Today I am so pleased to welcome Erin Russell to Joyfully Jay. Erin has come to talk to us about their latest release, Stupid Dirty. They have also brought along a great giveaway. Please join me in giving Erin a big welcome!
It completely blindsides me when a hard body barrels into mine and pins me against the wall.
His face, which is usually so full of joy, is currently radiating fury and barely an inch away from mine.
“You reckless fucking asshole! What the fuck are you doing here? Didn’t fuck me up enough on the track so you came here to finish the job?”
His fingers are fisting my shirt and his entire body is leaning into me, pressing me into the wall. I was right, earlier. He really did get bigger. Now that he’s only in a t-shirt—which is also bright pink, I notice—I can see the thick, sculpted muscle of his arms, covered in tattoos, and all that muscle is being used to hold me up.
I’m not a small guy. And as much as he’s grown, I’ve grown more. Even though we’re about the same height, I’m a lot broader. I’m intimidated by a lot of social situations, but not physically intimidated by people very often.
Anger is pouring off Cade like smoke and there’s fire behind his eyes. This. I forgot he had this temper. It didn’t happen often, but when he snapped, he was ferocious.
It makes my stomach swoop in the weirdest way. I can’t tell if I’m more intimidated or impressed.
He’s waiting, breathing hard, and I eventually realize he asked me a question that I don’t understand.
He frowns briefly, then shoves me harder into the wall with a growl.
“Don’t play dumb, robot boy. You took me out when you passed me and it was totally unnecessary! You could have easily made a clean pass, instead you took out my front wheel and sent me face-first into the dirt.”
I look at his face, and briefly get lost in the slate gray of his eyes. For the first time, I notice some bruising around his left eye, and guilt hits me like a brick wall. I don’t remember doing it to him, but he doesn’t deserve to be hurt like that. My hand comes up of its own volition and I touch his face, my fingers gently tracing over the bruise, which confuses both him and me equally.
I might be a little drunk.
I stop, and my fingers hover awkwardly in the air in front of his face. He stares at them and then looks at me, flicking his eyes back and forth like he’s trying to crack a code.
“How drunk are you, Silas?”
Moving my thumb and forefinger until they’re about an inch apart, I make a face. Just a little.
“Fuck,” he practically groans, but still doesn’t let me go. I don’t really care, though. This is the most physical contact I’ve had in months, and every time his fingertips brush my chest through my t-shirt, it makes me shiver. It’s not quite as good as a hug from a loving parent or something, but maybe picking fights with strangers is as close as I can get.
Possum Hollow Series, Book 1
I always thought of Silas Rush as my biggest rival on the track and a stuck-up loner off it. But he and his fancy pro career left our crappy hometown in the dust before high school even finished, and then I didn’t think of him much at all.
I was too busy trying to keep my little sisters from turning into addicts like our mom, and myself from turning into a rage-junkie like our dad. All while keeping food on the table.
Now he’s back, reminding me of all the things I don’t have, just like he always did.
Except now we’re both adults. And when I… y’know… talk to the guy for once, it looks like my teenage self might have been too distracted to see all the things that Silas didn’t have as well.
After catching him at his lowest possible moment, my heart goes out to the guy I used to hate. All my anger turns to guilt, and instead of a rival, I somehow end up with a socially-awkward new best friend that’s just as screwed-up as I am.
Which I can handle. I can admit when I’m wrong. As long as things between us don’t get any more complicated or confusing, I can handle it.
I have a very camera-ready smile. Dad always told me if I wanted to make my pro motocross career stick, I needed to get over all the awkwardness and anxiety that ruined high school for me and learn to act like a real boy for the public.
Never mind that I didn’t want to be a pro rider, or smile for the camera, or live life with Dad on the road and never know what it’s like to have a real friend or – gasp – relationship. Years and years of motocross training, publicity training, and all-the-rest-of-it training; I still don’t have a life and one stupid mistake has left my precious career in the toilet.
The last person I expect to pull me out of this hole is Cade Waters. I’m pretty sure everyone hated me in high school, but Cade was front and center. Which sucked, because with everyone else, he was sunshine personified. I was always the only person who sparked that anger in him, and I never even knew how I did it.
So, when Cade not only swoops in to help me in my darkest moment, but decides to abandon our childhood rivalry and adopt me as his newest bestie/pity project, I’m not sure how to take it.
What I do know is that after a lifetime of having nothing I really wanted, all it takes is one glimpse of Cade’s life to get me hooked. He’s a mess, sure, just like I am. But all that sunshine… I want to grab onto it with both hands and never let go. No matter how confusing that feeling may be.
Stupid Dirty is a high-heat, high-angst M/M romance about dirt bikes, childhood trauma and figuring out how to love someone the best way you can.
Erin Russell is a queer author living in Los Angeles. They love to write romance and horror, which overlap more often than you’d think. Especially when reality is the real horror story. Stupid Dirty is their debut novel.
- Instagram: @erinrussellauthor
- Newsletter: https://erinrussell.eo.page/s1v5j
- Website: www.erinrussellauthor.com
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