Out
Now! - Something Else by Nia Farrell
BLURB:
Grace Murphy is the local psychic medium who dreams of her
soulmates –Nico White, a bisexual American Indian musician, and J.T. Santiago,
an ex-Navy SEAL and former cage fighter with PTSD on top of the guilt that he’s
still carrying from other lifetimes that they’ve shared. J.T. is a dominant, but he’s never had a male
submissive and Grace and Nico are a package deal. It’s a learning curve for all of them, with
J.T.’s initiation into MMF and MM relations and Grace’s introduction to
BDSM. With Grace’s yin, J.T’s yang, and
Nico’s center balance, the three of them come together as far as J.T.’s PTSD
will allow, but forging a future means healing the past, however painful it
might be, in an interracial paranormal
MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.
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EXCERPT:
With
the appearance of him, I feel the shift in my own energy, like he’s a
generator crystal that’s amplified every sense, common or otherwise. My zipped
perceptions are razor sharp, dead on accurate, and delivered with lightning
speed. When half hour readings go to twenty minutes, I start giving discounts
and the line never ends, not until the ten minute warning that the fair doors
will be closing soon.
At five p.m. , one of the New Age shop assistants starts walking
the aisles, clearing the crowd and the room’s energy with a ringing pair of
Tibetan tingshas. I smile my thanks when she manages to herd the last hopeful
from my queue. Smile bigger yet when I see that my Latino angel has returned.
“Hi,”
I say, sounding rather shy for someone who’s had no problem all day, delving
deep into other people’s lives and issues.
His
lips tuck upward, and he nods his head toward the back of the room. “I promised
my cousin I’d help her. Lena says it’ll take an hour.”
“She’s
got to get home. Sick kid,” he explains. “Daddy’s challenged enough when
Ariana’s a healthy two-year-old. I’ll be free once Lena ’s
on the road. Will you be around? I can meet you somewhere. We could grab a bite
to eat. Talk. If not tonight, then later.”
Déjà
vu. Six months ago, I’d said nearly
the same things to Nico.
I
suggest O’Toole’s, two blocks east. “Do you know it?”
He
nods grudgingly, clearly not a fan of the Irish pub. Sensitive to his inner
turmoil, I offer an alternative. “Or Jerry’s?” It’s a local bar and grill,
edgier than sports and just shy of biker bar.
God,
his smile. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“Jerry’s,”
he says. “In an hour or so.”
I’m
still processing when Nico comes to check on me. He’s moved our vending van and
already has his stuff loaded, and I’ve done almost squat.
“Hey.”
He touches me, sliding his darker fingers up my ivory arms until they reach my
elbows. When his thumbs start rubbing circles in the bend of each arm, my root
chakra kicks into overdrive, and my fucking knees grow weak.
“He’s
here,” I whisper, damn close to trembling. “He’s meeting us at Jerry’s after
six. Help me pack so we can go get a table.”
That
time of night, on a Saturday, there’s usually a line out the door one or two
blocks long. I know I have spiritual helping hands at work when we get there
and are seated at a booth in the quieter back with only a fifteen minute wait.
I’ve
said nothing more to Nico about Lena ’s cousin. It occurs to me that I never asked and he
never offered his name. We’ll all know each other soon enough, and way beyond a
first-name basis.
Just
thinking about what’s coming makes my panties wet enough to stick my dress to
the worn wooden bench beneath me.
Our
waitress, Cherry, slides coasters on the table and sets down our drinks, a
bottle of pseudo beer for Nico and a glass of orange juice for me. I don’t want
anything, either brewed from nature or crafted in a chemistry lab, to dull my
senses tonight. No alcohol. No soda. Juice and water it is.
A menu
sits to my right, waiting for him to show. Across from me, Nico scans both
sides of the laminated page and sets it down, his decision already made. I take
longer, wrestling with my baser meat-loving self when I know I should shun it,
but really, where’s the fun in that? I turned vegan once in high school. It
lasted all of two weeks, but I stayed quasi-vegetarian for three years. Dairy,
eggs, and seafood gave me the protein I craved, but it took cutting out the
warm blooded meat to raise my vibration and get it to where I needed it to be.
Because that’s when the dreams started. Visions of the past lives we’ve shared.
Memories of the three of us.
Poised
on the brink of our next go-round, I have to wonder why we keep coming back
like this, like frigging musketeers. Is it because we’re stronger together, or
dysfunctional apart? Jesus, I’d like to think I don’t need them, but I know how
much more, how much stronger I am since meeting Nico. My body thrums to think
of what it will be like to have both of them with me.
In
me.
Fuck.
AUTHOR
BIO :
Nia Farrell has been writing for pleasure since junior
high. Now that she writes about pleasure, she can share the fantasy
worlds she visits and introduce readers to characters who remain with her long
after their tales are told.
When crafting a story, Nia draws upon a rich diversity of
life experiences, which include singer/songwriter, prize winning needle artist,
private pilot, Reiki Master/Teacher, crystal healer, psychic fair reader,
jewelry maker, physician’s assistant, factory worker, waitress, genealogist,
period reenactor, and children’s author.
If this life isn’t enough, there are plenty of others to choose from. Otherwise, she devotes hours of research to
subjects outside her realm, determined that her stories ring true.
Nia lives on a farm in Southern Illinois
(far, far from Chicago
Author page on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Nia-Farrell/1678898589004941?fref=ts
Author page at
Amazon US :
http://www.amazon.com/Nia-Farrell/e/B014HAAWLK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1440769158&sr=8-2
Author page at
Amazon UK :
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nia-Farrell/e/B014HAAWLK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1440767213&sr=1-1
Author page at
Dark Hollows Press: http://www.darkhollowspress.com/#!nia-farrell/c1mop
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