Ryan Jackson doesn’t expect too much from his weekend at the Shadows and Souls fan convention in Tahoe—he wants to meet his online friends, engage in a few heated debates about the plot for the upcoming season, and maybe shake the hand of the TV show’s star, Johnny Marlowe. But his weekend goes off course almost immediately after his arrival. First, the hotel loses his booking. Then Johnny Marlowe talks to him like they’re actual friends. And while his head is still spinning, a ghost attacks him in the elevator.
Despite fighting ghosts every week on television, Johnny Marlowe does not believe in the spirit world. He does, however, believe he should get to know Ryan better. Fan or not, the man is not only gorgeous, he’s down-to-earth, fun, and makes Johnny forget about the fake life he’s forced to lead and the ex-boyfriend who refused to participate in the charade. Unfortunately, every time Johnny tries to get close to the handsome ginger, something explodes or the earth shakes or lights blink out—and none of that is as sexy as it sounds.
Johnny doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he knows he has to get to the bottom of this haunting if he ever wants to get close to his biggest fan.
Despite fighting ghosts every week on television, Johnny Marlowe does not believe in the spirit world. He does, however, believe he should get to know Ryan better. Fan or not, the man is not only gorgeous, he’s down-to-earth, fun, and makes Johnny forget about the fake life he’s forced to lead and the ex-boyfriend who refused to participate in the charade. Unfortunately, every time Johnny tries to get close to the handsome ginger, something explodes or the earth shakes or lights blink out—and none of that is as sexy as it sounds.
Johnny doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he knows he has to get to the bottom of this haunting if he ever wants to get close to his biggest fan.
Genres: Gay/Paranormal/Ghosts/Hauntings/The Arts/Suspense/Thriller
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (37k words)
Length: Extended Novella (37k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...The elevator had been installed at least forty, if not fifty, years earlier, and it was quite narrow. It shrunk even more as soon as Ryan stepped inside the tiny car, his head suddenly full of the smell of Johnny’s cologne and leather jacket. He tried to keep a respectable amount of space between them—an impossible task given Ryan’s large frame and the confines of the car. The walls were mirrors, but it didn’t give the illusion of space. It made Ryan dizzy as he stared at the repeating image of his idol.
“It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”
Ryan’s face instantly flushed red, but when he risked a glance at Johnny, he saw the other man was trying for lighthearted banter, not some sort of accusation.
“Thank you again. What you did for me is…really cool. I mean, I always knew you were really cool, but this is just…you know….”
“Cool?” Johnny supplied with a grin.
“Exactly the word I was looking for.” Ryan could have stared at Johnny’s smile forever, but his pleasure was very abruptly cut short when the slow moving car came to a screeching halt. It sounded like the end of the world and Ryan braced himself for the sudden plummet to the ground—are we high enough to die?—but the car remained frozen. Ryan had time to see the needle hover between three and four on the old-fashioned dial before the lights flickered out.
“Shit.”
“You’re not scared of the dark, are you?” Ryan meant the question to be light, but his voice sounded thin, the words shaky. Maybe you’re not afraid of the dark, but apparently I am.
“Um, is there a phone or something in here?”
“I don’t know, let me…” He reached out, intending to feel along the panel, but instead of cold buttons, he touched something very, very warm. And instead of pulling his hand away immediately, he let his fingers linger.
“That’s not—”
“Oh, sorry.” He jerked his hand away. “I’ll check my cell.”
“Good luck. I haven’t had any reception for the past hour.”
Ryan had no idea what his reception was like. He fumbled through the side of his bag, finally closing fingers around the ancient Nokia. He held down the power button until the screen flashed, surprisingly bright in the confined space. He heard Johnny on his right, breathing in a slow, even rhythm, felt his body heat against his arm. All of his senses were attuned to the man to his right.
And yet, there was clearly a man standing directly to his left.
Ryan stared without blinking, waiting for the apparition to fade, or for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was just a reflection. It had to be. Except the only light in the elevator came from his phone, and that was barely enough to light a few inches away, let alone outline the dark shape beside him. He shouldn’t be able to see anything at all.
“So?”
Ryan jumped at Johnny’s question. “What?”
“Do you have reception?”
“I…do you…”
“Do I what?”
Ryan shook his head, remembered Johnny couldn’t see him, and muttered, “Nothing. No, I don’t have any bars.”
“How long do you think it’ll be until we’re missed?”
Ryan barely heard the question. The figure had moved, was now standing directly in front of him, so near he should’ve been feeling breath fan across his lips. He’d never been claustrophobic, but the walls were moving in tighter, and Johnny felt closer than ever, and Ryan needed a drink. Water. Whiskey. Something. Sweat poured down his brow and the back of his neck, clustering in giant, itchy beads.
“Hey, buddy? You okay? Don’t freak out on me, okay, big man?”
“I’m not.” He rasped the words, too busy freaking out to realize how freaked out he actually sounded...
“It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”
Ryan’s face instantly flushed red, but when he risked a glance at Johnny, he saw the other man was trying for lighthearted banter, not some sort of accusation.
“Thank you again. What you did for me is…really cool. I mean, I always knew you were really cool, but this is just…you know….”
“Cool?” Johnny supplied with a grin.
“Exactly the word I was looking for.” Ryan could have stared at Johnny’s smile forever, but his pleasure was very abruptly cut short when the slow moving car came to a screeching halt. It sounded like the end of the world and Ryan braced himself for the sudden plummet to the ground—are we high enough to die?—but the car remained frozen. Ryan had time to see the needle hover between three and four on the old-fashioned dial before the lights flickered out.
“Shit.”
“You’re not scared of the dark, are you?” Ryan meant the question to be light, but his voice sounded thin, the words shaky. Maybe you’re not afraid of the dark, but apparently I am.
“Um, is there a phone or something in here?”
“I don’t know, let me…” He reached out, intending to feel along the panel, but instead of cold buttons, he touched something very, very warm. And instead of pulling his hand away immediately, he let his fingers linger.
“That’s not—”
“Oh, sorry.” He jerked his hand away. “I’ll check my cell.”
“Good luck. I haven’t had any reception for the past hour.”
Ryan had no idea what his reception was like. He fumbled through the side of his bag, finally closing fingers around the ancient Nokia. He held down the power button until the screen flashed, surprisingly bright in the confined space. He heard Johnny on his right, breathing in a slow, even rhythm, felt his body heat against his arm. All of his senses were attuned to the man to his right.
And yet, there was clearly a man standing directly to his left.
Ryan stared without blinking, waiting for the apparition to fade, or for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was just a reflection. It had to be. Except the only light in the elevator came from his phone, and that was barely enough to light a few inches away, let alone outline the dark shape beside him. He shouldn’t be able to see anything at all.
“So?”
Ryan jumped at Johnny’s question. “What?”
“Do you have reception?”
“I…do you…”
“Do I what?”
Ryan shook his head, remembered Johnny couldn’t see him, and muttered, “Nothing. No, I don’t have any bars.”
“How long do you think it’ll be until we’re missed?”
Ryan barely heard the question. The figure had moved, was now standing directly in front of him, so near he should’ve been feeling breath fan across his lips. He’d never been claustrophobic, but the walls were moving in tighter, and Johnny felt closer than ever, and Ryan needed a drink. Water. Whiskey. Something. Sweat poured down his brow and the back of his neck, clustering in giant, itchy beads.
“Hey, buddy? You okay? Don’t freak out on me, okay, big man?”
“I’m not.” He rasped the words, too busy freaking out to realize how freaked out he actually sounded...
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