Well, I said I was going to do it and today seems like a good day for it. I have a lot of good things in the works, one of which is the sequel for my urban fantasy novel, The Nameless. I still don’t have a release date but I can say look for release to be this fall.
If you’re not familiar with The Nameless, I’ll share a few details that will hopefully catch your eye. This book is full of Fae intrigue. It was extremely challenging and fun to write my interpretation of the Fae. The dual-POV story follows twin brothers, Chance and Lucky, who managed get their real names stolen and a Fae curse laid on them over a century ago.
As children of Irish immigrants, the story touches on their history in anti-Irish, Prohibition-era New York and their journey to their present station in a three-piece, touring punk band. Their lives up to the book’s opening have been fairly free of the Fae, even the one who took their names. That is, until they meet someone who has strong ties to their past and they manage to catch the eyes of some powerful – and at times mysterious – Fae, and everything changes. Not only are there Fae, but I also wove in other aspects of Irish mythology that you’ll have to read the book to find. Can’t go giving away too much, after all.
Chance and Lucky are as different as night and day, which you might expect from twins. Not only are they fraternal, so they look different, but their personalities are opposite ends of the spectrum and their dynamic was a lot of fun to write. Chance is more low-key, analytic, and prone to moping. Lucky is a firecracker in every sense, keen and charismatic, obviously the front man for the band. The group is rounded out and grounded by their unassuming bassist, Johnny.
Alas, please enjoy this excerpt from Lucky’s POV from my upcoming sequel!
Magnetic is usually a descriptor I only use for myself. This broad, though, definitely owns the term. She knows it, too. As someone well aware of my effect on a crowd, I can feel it.
She’s currently and blatantly fielding my appraisal, which is admittedly pretty open. She’ll probably confuse it for the same puppy-dog appreciation she’s getting from the poor saps who are trying to turn her eyes to them even now. It’s not the same at all. My spotlight is not made for two. It’s getting smaller by the minute.
Her eyes are on me over the rim of whatever fruity drink was bought for her. Her head cocks to the side a little. If my read is correct, there’s a kindred sort of recognition in the way she’s watching me.
I smirk and take a lazy drink without looking away. Again, she’ll probably interpret it as flirting. That’s not exactly it. She looks pretty young. There’s no way she can measure up to my level and I will hand out a lesson in stealing glory if I need to. There’s no stage here but that’s never stopped me before.
She rests her drink on the bar along with an elbow. She’s utterly at ease and candid. Her gaze skates downward, lingers, then returns to my face. Her lips curl in an answering smile, every bit as foxy as mine.
I feel a rash of anxiety spike. It’s not mine. My dear, hopeless brother, probably still pining over Becka’s dismissal. I swear he’s such a drag sometimes. I won’t look his way and ruin my game now.
Mystery girl pushes away from the bar. She effortlessly parts the crowd around her. Her hips sway all the way to me and her eyes never leave mine.
The anxiety comes again and this time it’s almost strong enough to make me look. It’s too late now, ol’ girl is standing in front of me, close enough that I can smell her floral perfume. She leans in so that her lips are close to my ear but eye contact is maintained.
She says, “I’d ask for your name but I see you don’t have one.”
The smile melts from my lips and my body goes rigid. Chance’s static makes perfect sense now. So does her draw. Fuck me. I’ve let myself get trapped.
“Then you’ll be happy to know I wouldn’t give you my name if you asked,” I say. There’s steel in my tone that’s usually reserved for my brother.
“If you had it,” she says, her voice made of silk. She pulls away by a few inches and lifts her free hand, palm up and empty. She shrugs that shoulder.
Aj Elmore, Author 