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New Amsterdam #4
Earthquakes
Ellis Parker is a lucky man: he escaped his persecuting family, survived his tour of duty, and met Maxwell Clark in the city of New Amsterdam. Clark showed Ellis more than the ropes; Clark helped Ellis figure out who he is -- a gay submissive with a massive fixation on a beautiful, mysterious ballet dancer named Bryn Rothe. Ellis knows a Good Man when he sees one, and he wants nothing more than to score a first date with Bryn.
Little does Ellis know Bryn has a violent past that is crawling out of shallow graves to haunt him. Even his hectic schedule and beloved stage aren't enough to distract him. It's impossible for Bryn to figure out how he feels about Ellis with his demons between them, but when Ellis saves Bryn not once but twice, Bryn is forced to admit there's something about Ellis Bryn might not merely want but need.
Together they journey to the scene of Bryn's original crime: Charles Towne, South Carolina. There they will dig up secrets that might explain Bryn's tortured life, but might also be his -- and Ellis's -- undoing.
Little does Ellis know Bryn has a violent past that is crawling out of shallow graves to haunt him. Even his hectic schedule and beloved stage aren't enough to distract him. It's impossible for Bryn to figure out how he feels about Ellis with his demons between them, but when Ellis saves Bryn not once but twice, Bryn is forced to admit there's something about Ellis Bryn might not merely want but need.
Together they journey to the scene of Bryn's original crime: Charles Towne, South Carolina. There they will dig up secrets that might explain Bryn's tortured life, but might also be his -- and Ellis's -- undoing.
228 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 29, 2016
2 people are currently reading
85 people want to read
About the author
Kelly Wyre
14 books150 followersKelly enjoys reading and writing all manner of fiction, ranging from horror to romance. She used to work in advertising but is now happily chained to her writing desk. Kelly enjoys the soft and cuddly and the sharp and bloody with equal amounts of enthusiasm. She's a coffee addict, a workaholic, a chronic night owl, and loves a good thunderstorm. Currently Kelly resides in the southeastern United States.
She only bites when asked. Nicely.
She only bites when asked. Nicely.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
March 9, 2016
Oh, the disappointment. So much potential. Even after a rocky start, things were looking up, but then the train wreck of Bryn's life happened and then the book just. Ended. I was left unsatisfied and confused.
Bryn Rothe is a fucking Mess, with a capital M. Mommy issues, Daddy issues, self-esteem issues, shame and disgust over his sexual orientation and kinky preferences and more! He is definitely redeemable, especially with the lovely, kind, dependable, super-kinky Ellis in his corner, but the redeemable part of Bryn's story was completely off-page. At about the 95% point in the book, Bryn has a total meltdown. He's practically catatonic. I was so excited to see how Ellis would save Bryn from his many demons, but everything healing was done off-page. The next thing you see is all of the New Amsterdam cast of characters at a ballet performance of the newly minted, happy Bryn. Damn, that sucked! There was hurt, there was healing and there was comfort, but all we got to read on-page was the hurt.
For those of you who loved Daniel and Clark's story in Hearts Under Fire as much as I did, this one will be a big disappointment.
I cannot recommend this addition to the wonderful New Amsterdam series. It doesn't even come close to capturing the glory of the original books.
You will notice that I only rated the flames a 2. That was because the sex here was terrible! Not loving, not particularity kinky, just a few cold, emotionless encounters that left me feeling sad for Ellis. Poor Ellis.
This review is also posted at Gay Book Reviews
Bryn Rothe is a fucking Mess, with a capital M. Mommy issues, Daddy issues, self-esteem issues, shame and disgust over his sexual orientation and kinky preferences and more! He is definitely redeemable, especially with the lovely, kind, dependable, super-kinky Ellis in his corner, but the redeemable part of Bryn's story was completely off-page. At about the 95% point in the book, Bryn has a total meltdown. He's practically catatonic. I was so excited to see how Ellis would save Bryn from his many demons, but everything healing was done off-page. The next thing you see is all of the New Amsterdam cast of characters at a ballet performance of the newly minted, happy Bryn. Damn, that sucked! There was hurt, there was healing and there was comfort, but all we got to read on-page was the hurt.
For those of you who loved Daniel and Clark's story in Hearts Under Fire as much as I did, this one will be a big disappointment.
I cannot recommend this addition to the wonderful New Amsterdam series. It doesn't even come close to capturing the glory of the original books.
You will notice that I only rated the flames a 2. That was because the sex here was terrible! Not loving, not particularity kinky, just a few cold, emotionless encounters that left me feeling sad for Ellis. Poor Ellis.
This review is also posted at Gay Book Reviews
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March 1, 2016Many thanks for the interest! Hope you enjoy. :)
Oh! And have an extra snippet from the novel on me. :D
EARTHQUAKES - A NEW AMSTERDAM STORY:
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fuck off, I hate people, go away, you bother me, whatever. You ever going to share why the hell you put holes in targets every Monday?”
Today was apparently the day to quiz Bryn. “Because I like it.”
“I like cake. I don’t get up early and skip massage for it.”
“You would if you could.”
Medea snorted, and Bryn breathed a quiet sigh of relief at her waning interest. “So next question.”
“Joy.”
“You going to the Benefit for the Center thing?”
Bryn looked up from his legs. “What?”
Medea rested on her stomach, starting to stretch out her hips. “The benefit. At the Bel. Wednesday. Champagne. Food. Movers and shakers and donations galore?”
“I’d…” Bryn panicked. He’d been counting on the days between ballets to catch up on his rest. His knee had been feeling loose, though it was deemed fine by the physical therapist. His shoulders were solid sheets of tension thanks to all the lifts in The Firebird. Jules was a miniature human, but raising and lowering over a hundred pounds on rinse repeat took its toll.
“You’d forgotten.” Medea smirked. “Well, remember. You have to be there.”
Medea was right. Bryn would be on parade at the benefit, shaking hands and talking politely to ancient ballet enthusiasts who loved dance. Not to mention the old husbands who kept staring at Bryn’s ass.
Jules would be there to keep him company, and it had to be even worse on her. Forget the old-man leers. Competition in the ballet world was beyond fierce; it was bloodthirsty. Jules had a few more years before the younger dancers would start looking better to choreographers, but she still felt the pressure. It came from a long history of family conditioning to be perfection itself. Bryn could relate. Jules would have made his mother proud.
“…ringing.”
“What?”
Medea rolled her eyes. “Your phone. Is ringing.”
Bryn tugged the other earbud out of his ear. A hissing chorus of monster rock chattered through the speaker, and without the noise to cover the sound, Bryn heard his Apocalyptica ringtone. He dug the phone out of his bag, saw the name, and shut the phone off completely.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Medea teased.
Bryn didn’t bother to reply. His insides were momentarily watery, so to shake it off, he stood up and walked to the barre. Medea followed, not so easily swayed. She positioned herself in front of and facing him. “So guess who gets to go for five hours without a break today?” she asked.
“Do I have to?”
She flashed the wicked grin again. “Yes.”
“You.”
“Good one. You’re no better, though. They’ll run you through all of The Firebird and start talking The Sleeping Beauty.” She sighed dramatically. “I hate the story ballets.”
Bryn stretched his feet. “How can you hate them?”
“Oh please. Not everybody is as gay as you, for one.”
“Bitch.”
“Yes. For the other, the cast is damned huge. There’s no room to show the world I’m better than them all.”
“You’ll have your solo.”
“For like six seconds.” Medea growled. “Asshole.”
Medea’s jealousy was legendary. “You’d be up there with me in a heartbeat.”
“Just show me who I have to kill.”
Bryn gave a breathless laugh. “You’re even more screwed-up than me.”
“I win that competition every day.” Medea quirked her head, her eyes round as saucers, and Bryn chuckled again. Satisfied, Medea smiled. “Thanks for noticing, dickwad.”
“You’re welcome, bitchcunt.”
“Oooh, nice one.”
The last few dancers straggled in with coffees or teas in hand. Bryn nodded to Jules, who looked hungover but was undoubtedly just exhausted. Dennis hit a note on the piano in the corner and banged on the key to announce the arrival and readiness of Karen, the head ballet mistress. Class started with the barre, and as the class moved in unison through the positions of pliéss, there was a chorus of cracking joints. Bryn babied his knee, testing it, and it seemed fine.
By the time he was stretching forward after the ronde de jambes, there were rivers of sweat running along the lines of his body. He shed a layer, tossing the clothes onto his bag as the class moved the barres out of the way to make room for center work. Bryn had a chat with his body, soothing it and encouraging it. The jumping now would help the jumping later, he knew. He never wanted to do his real warming up on stage. The stage was reserved for out-of-body experiences. The classroom was where the work happened.
For a blissful forty-five minutes, there was nothing but the beat of music and the execution of combination after combination. The last jumping combo was killer, and Bryn debated on whether or not to do it. He’d need his energy later, but in the end, his sense of competition and love of a challenge outdid him. The tours en l’air went on forever, and when he was done, he was soaking wet. Karen announced the end of class, which was cut short thanks to performance season. Bryn checked the clock. He had a break until one and then rehearsal until five.
Time enough for body work, coffee, and lunch. Bryn raced down the stairs to the third floor and made his way to the therapy room. Tables curtained off like ER suites lined two walls. There were ultrasound machines, lasers, and all manner of devices designed to keep dancers held together with science, duct tape, and prayers. Bryn had no trouble getting a table, and Sharon, an MD specializing in the field of dance medicine, examined his knee and hip and pronounced him capable. He wasn’t that worried, really, but it paid to be careful. He requested a psoas muscle release because he knew it’d help him with the jumps and lifts later. He breathed while the masseuse pushed deeply with her fingertips into his lower abdomen, and when his eyes were closed, his thoughts drifted back to the redhead at the range. How had a farm boy ended up in New Amsterdam? Military family? Probably. Or just military, period. Most men at the ranges Bryn frequented had some experience in the armed services. Or maybe Ellis had come to NA with hopes of some crazy career. Acting or singing or God only knew. Though Ellis didn’t strike Bryn as the performance type. Too much stuttering and honesty. Bryn would give the guy that much: Ellis did earnest like nobody’s business.
“Good, good,” the masseuse said. Her name was Rachel, Bryn remembered. She eased off, and Bryn exhaled. “Want me to work on your shoulders?”
“Yes,” Bryn said and rolled over. His belly rumbled with hunger. His thoughts tumbled around the Reuben on rye he could get from the deli a block away from the Bel, and mixed in the daydream tangle was more Ellis. Bryn gritted his teeth. It seemed the gun boy was not going to go easily back into his box. Well, okay, then. Bryn could let the fantasies take over for a few minutes. If it was a crush, it’d be easier in the long run to let the possibilities and sexual whatevers skip through his brain on their way out the door than to lock them up in their own cage. He might not date, he might not deal with his dick on anything close to a regular basis, but despite his best efforts, his humanity sometimes got the best of him.
Doing anything with Ellis was out of the question. Any man who persisted like Ellis was not the kind of guy up for a fast blowjob or quick fuck. Even if Bryn was misreading the signs and Ellis surprised him, there would still be that unspoken question of would it happen again. And Bryn couldn’t let it happen often enough to start to like it. Bryn didn’t do people. No exceptions.
So fucking Ellis would mean Bryn would have to change ranges, and he wasn’t going back to Shoot Fast. He certainly wasn’t caravanning for longer than an hour to squeeze off a few. He’d take up archery before he crossed state lines. Hell, basket weaving. Knitting would be better, for Chrissakes.
Still, he couldn’t deny the need flickering to life and surging through him. Surely it had more to do with how long it’d been and nothing to do with a random redhead at a shooting range. The last time he’d gotten any had been months ago, and it’d been that kid at the bar. The one with black hair and a lip ring. Medea had talked Bryn into going out, and the boy had been barely legal and dying for a dick in his mouth. Bryn had obliged after one too many gin and tonics.
Bryn wasn’t keen on the idea of going out again with Medea, hunting for warm bodies with willing orifices. Every time he did, she pushed him and his boundaries to the point of breaking. Or fucking, as the case might be. Bryn wasn’t about to sleep with anyone at the Bel. He’d made the rookie mistake of fucking corps boys back in the day. That led to drama and screaming fits in the wings during rehearsals.
So that meant he’d have to come up with some other way to cope. He could hit up a random bar, find a guy and a convenient bathroom stall, or log in to one of the dozen apps he had on his phone. None of the prospects sounded good.
Fuck.
Damn Medea, damn boys, and damn him. He didn’t have time for this shit.
“Better?” Rachel asked, finishing up.
“Much,” Bryn lied. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Pleasantries out of the way, Bryn bundled up in his layers once again and headed first to his dressing room to drop off his bag. He shared the room with a soloist who’d been out for over half the season—Achilles tendon.
Bryn tossed his bag onto his dressing table, began to turn, and his breath lodged in his throat. His heart beat wildly against his breastbone, and he froze in place, unable to move.
The flicker was there. He’d seen it. Just in the edges of his vision. Right beyond his conscious awareness. A shadow darting into a corner; a body gliding on invisible ice; the last threads of a nightmare fading from a dream.
Bryn counted to ten and breathed before he whirled. His breath whooshed from his lungs as he studied the empty dressing room. After a moment, he raced to the adjacent bathroom. One toilet behind a single door, and nobody was home. He spun again and yanked the costume rack to one side, checking behind it. No one was crouching, waiting to jump and give Bryn another heart attack.
There was absolutely no one and nothing in the room except Bryn.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
With shaky resolve, Bryn tugged his wallet out of his bag, shoved it into a pocket, and stomped out of the room. He made it out of the Bel and across the street in record time, and when he pushed his way into the coffee shop, the sweet aroma soothed his nerves. He was just beginning to relax when something struck his shoulder. Bryn jumped.
“Jesus,” Medea said, lowering the hand she’d used to slap-greet Bryn. “Maybe you’ve had enough caffeine for the day, freak.”
“What are you doing here?” Bryn said breathlessly, kicking himself for being such an idiot.
A little girl behind them tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, she jumped line.”
“Yes, she did, sweetie,” said the mom with clear disdain. Tourist. Had to be. “She’s rude. We don’t like rude, do we?”
“No.” The little girl put fingers in her mouth, and Medea stuck her tongue out at the pair before turning around to face front.
“Um, same thing I do every day? Getting a refill and stalking you.”
“At least you admit to your obsession,” Bryn said mildly.
“Yeah. I do. And by the way?” Medea nudged Bryn’s arm. “I’m on to you.”
Bryn’s nervous system fritzed. “On to… What do you mean?”
Medea flashed a wicked grin at the customer’s back ahead of them. “I mean, I figured it out. Why you go shooting, why you never hang out, why you’re pissy, all of it.”
Bryn was caught between wanting to strangle Medea or running out the door, and possibly never returning. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me, why don’t you?”
Medea snorted. “You’re fucking somebody, regular like.”
Behind them, the little girl gasped. “Mommy, she said—”
Medea looked over her shoulder. “Can it, babycakes. This is New Amsterdam. Cutting and fucking happen. Get used to it, or get the fuck out.”
The mother and daughter left the line, leaving Bryn alone with Medea and boxed into a tiny room of sheer disbelief. “You think I��m—”
“Yeah, I do,” Medea said.
“But—”
“The last time we hung out, you were up for a fuck. That’s been months ago. The same months, coinci-fuckin-dentally that you’ve been going to that new range you told me about. ’Cause the old one sucked ancient man junk or whatever.”
“Ancient…man…”
“Yeah. Balls. Taint. Wrinkled bits.” Medea slapped her reusable cup on the counter. “Regular. Black. No whip, no cream, no sugar, no glitter. Yeah?”
“Got it,” said the barista.
Medea grabbed a straw and tore the end off with her teeth. “You miss massage for this shooting shit. You go every week. You show up this morning pissed off more than usual and not answering your phone.” Medea gave Bryn a slow smile. “So the fucktoy fucked up and you, my friend, didn’t get any, and here we are.”
“There is no fucktoy,” Bryn said slowly so as not to antagonize the crazy person.
“Mmm-hmm.” Medea accepted her coffee and paid in cash.
“There isn’t.”
“So you’ve upgraded him to boyfriend?” Medea hissed through her teeth. “No wonder you’re in knots over it.”
“There is no boyfriend,” Bryn said, attempting not to shout.
“What can I get you?” the barista asked.
“Iced coffee, skim, no sugar,” Bryn bit out in irritation.
“You’re blushing.” Medea smugly sipped her hot coffee. Through a straw. The woman couldn’t have any taste buds left.
“I am not blushing.”
“Yes, you are. Those two little pink spots come up on your cheeks anytime you’re embarrassed.”
“Or pissed off,” Bryn insisted. He snatched his coffee out of the barista’s hand and tossed money at her.
“Fine.” Medea led them to a high top next to a window. “Who’re you bringing with you to the benefit?”
“No one,” Bryn replied, exasperated.
“See?”
Bryn stood next to a chair and waved one arm. “How is me coming alone somehow proof I have a boyfriend?”
“Seriously?”
“No. Now I’m kidding.”
Medea scoffed. “My friend, if I had a dick, was gay, and looked like you, not only would I never be lonely, I’d never dance again ’cause I’d never get my ass out of bed. Or my prick out of my six boyfriends, for that matter.” She sipped her coffee thoughtfully.
“You’ve always been nuts, but now you’re completely out of your mind, Medea. There’s no one. Nobody. Never. Not happening. Can’t.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Why was he even having this conversation? “It’s…it’s better this way, okay?”
“Your shrink tell you that?”
Bryn had to sit down before he leaned too hard against the chair and crashed it against the glass.
Medea’s mouth fell open. “Holy fuck, you do have a shrink, and he did tell you that, didn’t he?”
“For mercy’s sake, Medea.”
“Your Southern accent totally comes out when you’re aggravated, you know this?”
“Fuck off. Please?”
Medea ignored him. “But why would anybody tell you to be by yourself? That’s, like, completely the opposite of normal, isn’t it? I mean, in a shrink’s perspective?”
Bryn put his coffee down and his head in his hands. Medea had always been nosy and bossy and a gossip from hell, but this was so far out of hand, Bryn couldn’t count the ways. “Medea. There’s nothing here. Find something else to obsess about. What about Mallory? Isn’t she still—”
“Fucking Brigit? Sure. After hours in the rehearsal studio, no less, but that’s boring. This isn’t.”
“How can this not be boring? There’s nobody! He means nothing!”
Bryn knew his mistake the instant the words were out of his mouth. Medea, for her part, showed restraint. She merely reclined in her chair, crossed her arms and legs, and waited. The told you so was clearly spelled out in her expression.
“Okay,” Bryn said to the table. “Ask.”
“Name?”
“Ellis.”
“Age?”
“I don’t know. Twenty? Thirty? Not forty.”
“Race?”
“You sound like a fucking driver’s license application.”
Medea widened her eyes at Bryn.
He sighed. “He’s white. Pale. Red hair. Light eyes.”
“Pierced dick?”
“No! How the fuck should I know?” Even as he protested, Bryn couldn’t help but remember that he was pretty sure Ellis had pierced nipples. Snug shirts. Cold rooms. Attention could waver. It happened.
“So, you’re trying to fuck him and he’s turning you down?”
“Medea, I know this is hard for you—”
“Not as hard as it is for you, apparently.”
“—but there is nothing going on. He works at the range. I see him there. He’s got a crush. I’m ignoring him.”
“Why, for God’s sake, would you do that?” Medea made a face. “Is he like bad ginge? You know, the ugly kind with the squashed nose and all the fucking freckles?”
“Yes,” Bryn lied.
Medea narrowed her eyes at him. “Nope. He’s not ugly. It’s something else.”
“Okay, I get that you need shit to spread around the Bel for your own twisted mind fuckery, but—”
“Hey!” Medea wagged a finger under Bryn’s nose. “I only tell shit on people I don’t like. Which is, for the record, everybody but you. This interest right here? This is I’m-the-only-friend-you-clearly-have interest.”
“We’re friends?”
“Bitch, we’d better be. Everyone else thinks you’re an asshole.”
“I am an asshole.”
“I didn’t say they were wrong. I’m just immune to your anti-charms.”
“Why?” Bryn whined.
“Because I’m a bigger asshole than you’d ever hope to be. Now, listen.” She leaned forward. “Seriously, what gives? Everybody figured you had to be in therapy. Always the quiet ones. But why no dating? You an addict?”
“Like an AA for quitters addict?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Huh.” Medea sipped thoughtfully. “So none of that houseplant, then dog, then boyfriend shit. So?”
Briefly, Bryn shut his eyes. He pictured Ellis with that grin, and his insides wavered like his atoms were going to split any moment now. He’d seen Medea on the hunt hundreds of times. She was a pit bull with a burglar between her jaws. “If I tell you the truth and buy you lunch, will you shut up and leave me alone?”
“For now, yes.”
“And you’ll somehow keep this to yourself?”
“Again, you’re the only human I tolerate in my presence when not on a stage.”
“Okay. It’s like this.” Bryn licked his lips. He saw the flicker again, a shadow moving among the tables, and he jerked his head away as though he were suddenly fascinated with the people on the other side of the window. “Some bad shit happened when I was a kid, all right? Seventeen,” he answered, and Medea shut her mouth on the question she’d been about to ask. “It was before I came here. After I got here, I was out of the bad shit, but some of it followed me, so I started seeing somebody. He told me I need an outlet. A way to blow off steam, concentrate, focus, whatever, and it couldn’t be ballet for whatever reason. That’s why I shoot. The other thing he told me was that he thinks it’s generally better if I steer clear of relationships. But long before the shrink said anything, and even if he hadn’t thought was a bad move, I wouldn’t be involved with anybody for longer than a night because of the bad shit.” The flicker was weaving among the outside crowd now, so Bryn looked at Medea instead.
“So there’s nothing. Not with Ellis, not with anybody. And won’t be. All right?”
Medea’s poker face was impossible to read. At long last, she nodded, just the once. “Okay. I’m starving, bitch. Where you buying me lunch?”
Copyright © Kelly Wyre
Oh! And have an extra snippet from the novel on me. :D
EARTHQUAKES - A NEW AMSTERDAM STORY:
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fuck off, I hate people, go away, you bother me, whatever. You ever going to share why the hell you put holes in targets every Monday?”
Today was apparently the day to quiz Bryn. “Because I like it.”
“I like cake. I don’t get up early and skip massage for it.”
“You would if you could.”
Medea snorted, and Bryn breathed a quiet sigh of relief at her waning interest. “So next question.”
“Joy.”
“You going to the Benefit for the Center thing?”
Bryn looked up from his legs. “What?”
Medea rested on her stomach, starting to stretch out her hips. “The benefit. At the Bel. Wednesday. Champagne. Food. Movers and shakers and donations galore?”
“I’d…” Bryn panicked. He’d been counting on the days between ballets to catch up on his rest. His knee had been feeling loose, though it was deemed fine by the physical therapist. His shoulders were solid sheets of tension thanks to all the lifts in The Firebird. Jules was a miniature human, but raising and lowering over a hundred pounds on rinse repeat took its toll.
“You’d forgotten.” Medea smirked. “Well, remember. You have to be there.”
Medea was right. Bryn would be on parade at the benefit, shaking hands and talking politely to ancient ballet enthusiasts who loved dance. Not to mention the old husbands who kept staring at Bryn’s ass.
Jules would be there to keep him company, and it had to be even worse on her. Forget the old-man leers. Competition in the ballet world was beyond fierce; it was bloodthirsty. Jules had a few more years before the younger dancers would start looking better to choreographers, but she still felt the pressure. It came from a long history of family conditioning to be perfection itself. Bryn could relate. Jules would have made his mother proud.
“…ringing.”
“What?”
Medea rolled her eyes. “Your phone. Is ringing.”
Bryn tugged the other earbud out of his ear. A hissing chorus of monster rock chattered through the speaker, and without the noise to cover the sound, Bryn heard his Apocalyptica ringtone. He dug the phone out of his bag, saw the name, and shut the phone off completely.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Medea teased.
Bryn didn’t bother to reply. His insides were momentarily watery, so to shake it off, he stood up and walked to the barre. Medea followed, not so easily swayed. She positioned herself in front of and facing him. “So guess who gets to go for five hours without a break today?” she asked.
“Do I have to?”
She flashed the wicked grin again. “Yes.”
“You.”
“Good one. You’re no better, though. They’ll run you through all of The Firebird and start talking The Sleeping Beauty.” She sighed dramatically. “I hate the story ballets.”
Bryn stretched his feet. “How can you hate them?”
“Oh please. Not everybody is as gay as you, for one.”
“Bitch.”
“Yes. For the other, the cast is damned huge. There’s no room to show the world I’m better than them all.”
“You’ll have your solo.”
“For like six seconds.” Medea growled. “Asshole.”
Medea’s jealousy was legendary. “You’d be up there with me in a heartbeat.”
“Just show me who I have to kill.”
Bryn gave a breathless laugh. “You’re even more screwed-up than me.”
“I win that competition every day.” Medea quirked her head, her eyes round as saucers, and Bryn chuckled again. Satisfied, Medea smiled. “Thanks for noticing, dickwad.”
“You’re welcome, bitchcunt.”
“Oooh, nice one.”
The last few dancers straggled in with coffees or teas in hand. Bryn nodded to Jules, who looked hungover but was undoubtedly just exhausted. Dennis hit a note on the piano in the corner and banged on the key to announce the arrival and readiness of Karen, the head ballet mistress. Class started with the barre, and as the class moved in unison through the positions of pliéss, there was a chorus of cracking joints. Bryn babied his knee, testing it, and it seemed fine.
By the time he was stretching forward after the ronde de jambes, there were rivers of sweat running along the lines of his body. He shed a layer, tossing the clothes onto his bag as the class moved the barres out of the way to make room for center work. Bryn had a chat with his body, soothing it and encouraging it. The jumping now would help the jumping later, he knew. He never wanted to do his real warming up on stage. The stage was reserved for out-of-body experiences. The classroom was where the work happened.
For a blissful forty-five minutes, there was nothing but the beat of music and the execution of combination after combination. The last jumping combo was killer, and Bryn debated on whether or not to do it. He’d need his energy later, but in the end, his sense of competition and love of a challenge outdid him. The tours en l’air went on forever, and when he was done, he was soaking wet. Karen announced the end of class, which was cut short thanks to performance season. Bryn checked the clock. He had a break until one and then rehearsal until five.
Time enough for body work, coffee, and lunch. Bryn raced down the stairs to the third floor and made his way to the therapy room. Tables curtained off like ER suites lined two walls. There were ultrasound machines, lasers, and all manner of devices designed to keep dancers held together with science, duct tape, and prayers. Bryn had no trouble getting a table, and Sharon, an MD specializing in the field of dance medicine, examined his knee and hip and pronounced him capable. He wasn’t that worried, really, but it paid to be careful. He requested a psoas muscle release because he knew it’d help him with the jumps and lifts later. He breathed while the masseuse pushed deeply with her fingertips into his lower abdomen, and when his eyes were closed, his thoughts drifted back to the redhead at the range. How had a farm boy ended up in New Amsterdam? Military family? Probably. Or just military, period. Most men at the ranges Bryn frequented had some experience in the armed services. Or maybe Ellis had come to NA with hopes of some crazy career. Acting or singing or God only knew. Though Ellis didn’t strike Bryn as the performance type. Too much stuttering and honesty. Bryn would give the guy that much: Ellis did earnest like nobody’s business.
“Good, good,” the masseuse said. Her name was Rachel, Bryn remembered. She eased off, and Bryn exhaled. “Want me to work on your shoulders?”
“Yes,” Bryn said and rolled over. His belly rumbled with hunger. His thoughts tumbled around the Reuben on rye he could get from the deli a block away from the Bel, and mixed in the daydream tangle was more Ellis. Bryn gritted his teeth. It seemed the gun boy was not going to go easily back into his box. Well, okay, then. Bryn could let the fantasies take over for a few minutes. If it was a crush, it’d be easier in the long run to let the possibilities and sexual whatevers skip through his brain on their way out the door than to lock them up in their own cage. He might not date, he might not deal with his dick on anything close to a regular basis, but despite his best efforts, his humanity sometimes got the best of him.
Doing anything with Ellis was out of the question. Any man who persisted like Ellis was not the kind of guy up for a fast blowjob or quick fuck. Even if Bryn was misreading the signs and Ellis surprised him, there would still be that unspoken question of would it happen again. And Bryn couldn’t let it happen often enough to start to like it. Bryn didn’t do people. No exceptions.
So fucking Ellis would mean Bryn would have to change ranges, and he wasn’t going back to Shoot Fast. He certainly wasn’t caravanning for longer than an hour to squeeze off a few. He’d take up archery before he crossed state lines. Hell, basket weaving. Knitting would be better, for Chrissakes.
Still, he couldn’t deny the need flickering to life and surging through him. Surely it had more to do with how long it’d been and nothing to do with a random redhead at a shooting range. The last time he’d gotten any had been months ago, and it’d been that kid at the bar. The one with black hair and a lip ring. Medea had talked Bryn into going out, and the boy had been barely legal and dying for a dick in his mouth. Bryn had obliged after one too many gin and tonics.
Bryn wasn’t keen on the idea of going out again with Medea, hunting for warm bodies with willing orifices. Every time he did, she pushed him and his boundaries to the point of breaking. Or fucking, as the case might be. Bryn wasn’t about to sleep with anyone at the Bel. He’d made the rookie mistake of fucking corps boys back in the day. That led to drama and screaming fits in the wings during rehearsals.
So that meant he’d have to come up with some other way to cope. He could hit up a random bar, find a guy and a convenient bathroom stall, or log in to one of the dozen apps he had on his phone. None of the prospects sounded good.
Fuck.
Damn Medea, damn boys, and damn him. He didn’t have time for this shit.
“Better?” Rachel asked, finishing up.
“Much,” Bryn lied. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Pleasantries out of the way, Bryn bundled up in his layers once again and headed first to his dressing room to drop off his bag. He shared the room with a soloist who’d been out for over half the season—Achilles tendon.
Bryn tossed his bag onto his dressing table, began to turn, and his breath lodged in his throat. His heart beat wildly against his breastbone, and he froze in place, unable to move.
The flicker was there. He’d seen it. Just in the edges of his vision. Right beyond his conscious awareness. A shadow darting into a corner; a body gliding on invisible ice; the last threads of a nightmare fading from a dream.
Bryn counted to ten and breathed before he whirled. His breath whooshed from his lungs as he studied the empty dressing room. After a moment, he raced to the adjacent bathroom. One toilet behind a single door, and nobody was home. He spun again and yanked the costume rack to one side, checking behind it. No one was crouching, waiting to jump and give Bryn another heart attack.
There was absolutely no one and nothing in the room except Bryn.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
With shaky resolve, Bryn tugged his wallet out of his bag, shoved it into a pocket, and stomped out of the room. He made it out of the Bel and across the street in record time, and when he pushed his way into the coffee shop, the sweet aroma soothed his nerves. He was just beginning to relax when something struck his shoulder. Bryn jumped.
“Jesus,” Medea said, lowering the hand she’d used to slap-greet Bryn. “Maybe you’ve had enough caffeine for the day, freak.”
“What are you doing here?” Bryn said breathlessly, kicking himself for being such an idiot.
A little girl behind them tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, she jumped line.”
“Yes, she did, sweetie,” said the mom with clear disdain. Tourist. Had to be. “She’s rude. We don’t like rude, do we?”
“No.” The little girl put fingers in her mouth, and Medea stuck her tongue out at the pair before turning around to face front.
“Um, same thing I do every day? Getting a refill and stalking you.”
“At least you admit to your obsession,” Bryn said mildly.
“Yeah. I do. And by the way?” Medea nudged Bryn’s arm. “I’m on to you.”
Bryn’s nervous system fritzed. “On to… What do you mean?”
Medea flashed a wicked grin at the customer’s back ahead of them. “I mean, I figured it out. Why you go shooting, why you never hang out, why you’re pissy, all of it.”
Bryn was caught between wanting to strangle Medea or running out the door, and possibly never returning. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me, why don’t you?”
Medea snorted. “You’re fucking somebody, regular like.”
Behind them, the little girl gasped. “Mommy, she said—”
Medea looked over her shoulder. “Can it, babycakes. This is New Amsterdam. Cutting and fucking happen. Get used to it, or get the fuck out.”
The mother and daughter left the line, leaving Bryn alone with Medea and boxed into a tiny room of sheer disbelief. “You think I��m—”
“Yeah, I do,” Medea said.
“But—”
“The last time we hung out, you were up for a fuck. That’s been months ago. The same months, coinci-fuckin-dentally that you’ve been going to that new range you told me about. ’Cause the old one sucked ancient man junk or whatever.”
“Ancient…man…”
“Yeah. Balls. Taint. Wrinkled bits.” Medea slapped her reusable cup on the counter. “Regular. Black. No whip, no cream, no sugar, no glitter. Yeah?”
“Got it,” said the barista.
Medea grabbed a straw and tore the end off with her teeth. “You miss massage for this shooting shit. You go every week. You show up this morning pissed off more than usual and not answering your phone.” Medea gave Bryn a slow smile. “So the fucktoy fucked up and you, my friend, didn’t get any, and here we are.”
“There is no fucktoy,” Bryn said slowly so as not to antagonize the crazy person.
“Mmm-hmm.” Medea accepted her coffee and paid in cash.
“There isn’t.”
“So you’ve upgraded him to boyfriend?” Medea hissed through her teeth. “No wonder you’re in knots over it.”
“There is no boyfriend,” Bryn said, attempting not to shout.
“What can I get you?” the barista asked.
“Iced coffee, skim, no sugar,” Bryn bit out in irritation.
“You’re blushing.” Medea smugly sipped her hot coffee. Through a straw. The woman couldn’t have any taste buds left.
“I am not blushing.”
“Yes, you are. Those two little pink spots come up on your cheeks anytime you’re embarrassed.”
“Or pissed off,” Bryn insisted. He snatched his coffee out of the barista’s hand and tossed money at her.
“Fine.” Medea led them to a high top next to a window. “Who’re you bringing with you to the benefit?”
“No one,” Bryn replied, exasperated.
“See?”
Bryn stood next to a chair and waved one arm. “How is me coming alone somehow proof I have a boyfriend?”
“Seriously?”
“No. Now I’m kidding.”
Medea scoffed. “My friend, if I had a dick, was gay, and looked like you, not only would I never be lonely, I’d never dance again ’cause I’d never get my ass out of bed. Or my prick out of my six boyfriends, for that matter.” She sipped her coffee thoughtfully.
“You’ve always been nuts, but now you’re completely out of your mind, Medea. There’s no one. Nobody. Never. Not happening. Can’t.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Why was he even having this conversation? “It’s…it’s better this way, okay?”
“Your shrink tell you that?”
Bryn had to sit down before he leaned too hard against the chair and crashed it against the glass.
Medea’s mouth fell open. “Holy fuck, you do have a shrink, and he did tell you that, didn’t he?”
“For mercy’s sake, Medea.”
“Your Southern accent totally comes out when you’re aggravated, you know this?”
“Fuck off. Please?”
Medea ignored him. “But why would anybody tell you to be by yourself? That’s, like, completely the opposite of normal, isn’t it? I mean, in a shrink’s perspective?”
Bryn put his coffee down and his head in his hands. Medea had always been nosy and bossy and a gossip from hell, but this was so far out of hand, Bryn couldn’t count the ways. “Medea. There’s nothing here. Find something else to obsess about. What about Mallory? Isn’t she still—”
“Fucking Brigit? Sure. After hours in the rehearsal studio, no less, but that’s boring. This isn’t.”
“How can this not be boring? There’s nobody! He means nothing!”
Bryn knew his mistake the instant the words were out of his mouth. Medea, for her part, showed restraint. She merely reclined in her chair, crossed her arms and legs, and waited. The told you so was clearly spelled out in her expression.
“Okay,” Bryn said to the table. “Ask.”
“Name?”
“Ellis.”
“Age?”
“I don’t know. Twenty? Thirty? Not forty.”
“Race?”
“You sound like a fucking driver’s license application.”
Medea widened her eyes at Bryn.
He sighed. “He’s white. Pale. Red hair. Light eyes.”
“Pierced dick?”
“No! How the fuck should I know?” Even as he protested, Bryn couldn’t help but remember that he was pretty sure Ellis had pierced nipples. Snug shirts. Cold rooms. Attention could waver. It happened.
“So, you’re trying to fuck him and he’s turning you down?”
“Medea, I know this is hard for you—”
“Not as hard as it is for you, apparently.”
“—but there is nothing going on. He works at the range. I see him there. He’s got a crush. I’m ignoring him.”
“Why, for God’s sake, would you do that?” Medea made a face. “Is he like bad ginge? You know, the ugly kind with the squashed nose and all the fucking freckles?”
“Yes,” Bryn lied.
Medea narrowed her eyes at him. “Nope. He’s not ugly. It’s something else.”
“Okay, I get that you need shit to spread around the Bel for your own twisted mind fuckery, but—”
“Hey!” Medea wagged a finger under Bryn’s nose. “I only tell shit on people I don’t like. Which is, for the record, everybody but you. This interest right here? This is I’m-the-only-friend-you-clearly-have interest.”
“We’re friends?”
“Bitch, we’d better be. Everyone else thinks you’re an asshole.”
“I am an asshole.”
“I didn’t say they were wrong. I’m just immune to your anti-charms.”
“Why?” Bryn whined.
“Because I’m a bigger asshole than you’d ever hope to be. Now, listen.” She leaned forward. “Seriously, what gives? Everybody figured you had to be in therapy. Always the quiet ones. But why no dating? You an addict?”
“Like an AA for quitters addict?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Huh.” Medea sipped thoughtfully. “So none of that houseplant, then dog, then boyfriend shit. So?”
Briefly, Bryn shut his eyes. He pictured Ellis with that grin, and his insides wavered like his atoms were going to split any moment now. He’d seen Medea on the hunt hundreds of times. She was a pit bull with a burglar between her jaws. “If I tell you the truth and buy you lunch, will you shut up and leave me alone?”
“For now, yes.”
“And you’ll somehow keep this to yourself?”
“Again, you’re the only human I tolerate in my presence when not on a stage.”
“Okay. It’s like this.” Bryn licked his lips. He saw the flicker again, a shadow moving among the tables, and he jerked his head away as though he were suddenly fascinated with the people on the other side of the window. “Some bad shit happened when I was a kid, all right? Seventeen,” he answered, and Medea shut her mouth on the question she’d been about to ask. “It was before I came here. After I got here, I was out of the bad shit, but some of it followed me, so I started seeing somebody. He told me I need an outlet. A way to blow off steam, concentrate, focus, whatever, and it couldn’t be ballet for whatever reason. That’s why I shoot. The other thing he told me was that he thinks it’s generally better if I steer clear of relationships. But long before the shrink said anything, and even if he hadn’t thought was a bad move, I wouldn’t be involved with anybody for longer than a night because of the bad shit.” The flicker was weaving among the outside crowd now, so Bryn looked at Medea instead.
“So there’s nothing. Not with Ellis, not with anybody. And won’t be. All right?”
Medea’s poker face was impossible to read. At long last, she nodded, just the once. “Okay. I’m starving, bitch. Where you buying me lunch?”
Copyright © Kelly Wyre
March 11, 2016
So....where to start....there are so many great things going on in this book! I love the depth of the characters. Each one has their own personality and style and it is though I can hear their unique voices when I am reading. Then of course there is the hot, kinky sex....that's pretty great ;) So, the story is about an ex-military guy that works at a gun range that becomes enthralled with a guy who comes in the gun range and happens to be a ballet dancer. Ellis is the ex-military guy, Bryn is the ballet dancer. Bryn has a crazy, haunting past that keeps him from getting close to anyone, Ellis wants to get close to him....chaos ensues. I loved the entire story and couldn't put it down. I think this is the best story from the New Amsterdam series yet!!!!
March 5, 2016
I only ever read Kelly Wyre's stuff in this genre, and sometimes af henley, (they write together sometimes) so I guess I can't really say it's better than anything else out there, but it is really, really good. I rec it to anybody I can. It's got a plot and real men and characters I just like. Read it. you won't be sorry you did
May 5, 2016
I received a copy of this title to read and review for Wicked Reads
3 stars.
Kelly Wyre is a new-to-me author, & I read Earthquakes as a standalone, as I didn't realize this was book 4 in the New Amsterdam series when I agreed to read for review. However, I wasn't in the least confused. But Earthquakes did make me curious about its predecessors.
I will admit I had a difficult time getting into the novel. With a ton of inner monologue and ruminating, the writing style is more descriptive than I enjoy, with not only the scene set with the environment and clothing and appearances, but also action- example: I walked across the room, got a coffee mug out of the cabinet, and poured myself a cup of coffee. That sort of description, which always has me trying to find the plot and character development buried beneath.
Even though the writing style wasn't to my tastes, I was eventually able to fall into the story. But I won't lie; I will admit I found myself skimming pages at a time of inner monologues and descriptive action and appearances. My imagination was able to fill in the blanks of each step involved for every action the narrator did, so I skimmed the play-by-play.
Obviously I came into some difficulty when past narrators cropped up, as this is the only book I've read in the series, but I was able to roll with it. I do fear it subconsciously effected my overall enjoyment, as I was not emotionally connected with these characters yet. They were strangers to me.
As for the plot and romance, I had a hard time buying their mutual attraction, after having no conversations with one another. It was creeping up on 40% before they truly spoke to one another, and I mean more than the grunts Bryn provided at the shooting range. Half of a book based on romance between the narrators, when they never shared a scene with one another, while Ellis engaged with his friends.
Ellis was speaking to his friends about how much he was in love with Bryn, while also ruminating about it at length in his thoughts. Yet he knew nothing of this man, a man who gave him no inclination that the attraction was mutual. In retrospect, that type of thinking was a bit off-kilter and stalkerish, entitled perhaps. Thinking the Bryn would just be okay with this fantasy Ellis was building up in his mind.
Obviously, since this is 3rd person duel-narration, we hear from Bryn, but if we didn't, Ellis's fixation was a bit creepy. Not his lust at seeing Bryn, but the fantasy he was creating in his head. I love Bryn (even though we've never had a simple conversation and I know nothing of him personally, and he's refused to engage me every time I've tried. But I'm going to keep thinking about how much I'm falling in love with him- creepy) You have to know someone to love them- you have to fall in love with the specifics, not the fantasy you're building up in your mind. That's false- your imagination building up a person who doesn't exist, because you don't know them enough to accurately portray them in your private thoughts.
This was 40% of the book.
Bryn was a highly interesting character, but I was disappointed as most of his story was off-page. More telling than showing. It had much potential, and I would have loved to truly immerse myself into Bryn's backstory/story, but it was just written away when it was the most intriguing part of the books itself.
Truthfully, as I read Earthquakes, I never dialed into the narrators, and the entire time I was more curious about the 3 books I'd missed and the stories those characters had to tell. In my downtime, I may look into book 1 before I make a decision on whether or not this author's writing style doesn't suit with my tastes. As another reviewer stated the other books were more involved.
Recommended to fans of the New Amsterdam series, MM romance fans. But beware, you should most definitely read these books in order, as even to the last page I just wasn't feeling it.
3 stars.
Kelly Wyre is a new-to-me author, & I read Earthquakes as a standalone, as I didn't realize this was book 4 in the New Amsterdam series when I agreed to read for review. However, I wasn't in the least confused. But Earthquakes did make me curious about its predecessors.
I will admit I had a difficult time getting into the novel. With a ton of inner monologue and ruminating, the writing style is more descriptive than I enjoy, with not only the scene set with the environment and clothing and appearances, but also action- example: I walked across the room, got a coffee mug out of the cabinet, and poured myself a cup of coffee. That sort of description, which always has me trying to find the plot and character development buried beneath.
Even though the writing style wasn't to my tastes, I was eventually able to fall into the story. But I won't lie; I will admit I found myself skimming pages at a time of inner monologues and descriptive action and appearances. My imagination was able to fill in the blanks of each step involved for every action the narrator did, so I skimmed the play-by-play.
Obviously I came into some difficulty when past narrators cropped up, as this is the only book I've read in the series, but I was able to roll with it. I do fear it subconsciously effected my overall enjoyment, as I was not emotionally connected with these characters yet. They were strangers to me.
As for the plot and romance, I had a hard time buying their mutual attraction, after having no conversations with one another. It was creeping up on 40% before they truly spoke to one another, and I mean more than the grunts Bryn provided at the shooting range. Half of a book based on romance between the narrators, when they never shared a scene with one another, while Ellis engaged with his friends.
Ellis was speaking to his friends about how much he was in love with Bryn, while also ruminating about it at length in his thoughts. Yet he knew nothing of this man, a man who gave him no inclination that the attraction was mutual. In retrospect, that type of thinking was a bit off-kilter and stalkerish, entitled perhaps. Thinking the Bryn would just be okay with this fantasy Ellis was building up in his mind.
Obviously, since this is 3rd person duel-narration, we hear from Bryn, but if we didn't, Ellis's fixation was a bit creepy. Not his lust at seeing Bryn, but the fantasy he was creating in his head. I love Bryn (even though we've never had a simple conversation and I know nothing of him personally, and he's refused to engage me every time I've tried. But I'm going to keep thinking about how much I'm falling in love with him- creepy) You have to know someone to love them- you have to fall in love with the specifics, not the fantasy you're building up in your mind. That's false- your imagination building up a person who doesn't exist, because you don't know them enough to accurately portray them in your private thoughts.
This was 40% of the book.
Bryn was a highly interesting character, but I was disappointed as most of his story was off-page. More telling than showing. It had much potential, and I would have loved to truly immerse myself into Bryn's backstory/story, but it was just written away when it was the most intriguing part of the books itself.
Truthfully, as I read Earthquakes, I never dialed into the narrators, and the entire time I was more curious about the 3 books I'd missed and the stories those characters had to tell. In my downtime, I may look into book 1 before I make a decision on whether or not this author's writing style doesn't suit with my tastes. As another reviewer stated the other books were more involved.
Recommended to fans of the New Amsterdam series, MM romance fans. But beware, you should most definitely read these books in order, as even to the last page I just wasn't feeling it.
March 27, 2016
This novel starts with a character that caught me instantly, and who refused to let go once he got his lonely, dreamy, hopeful self into my head. Ellis has friends, Ellis has Scene partners, and Ellis has coworkers. They love him, he loves them back, but they're hardly enough for a heart that can love as deeply as Ellis's can. He wants more; he wants a relationship like he's witnessed with Clark and Daniel (see: Hearts Under Fire). Enter Bryn—"Beautiful Bryn" of the dancer's body and the distant, troubled soul.
This is a story about overcoming – fear, anxiety, bad choices – about overcoming demons. It's a journey that goes beyond self-awareness and into self-understanding, digging into the dark corners where the memories and difficulties crouch in order to drag them into the light and expose them. The character studies are as riveting as the sex scenes are hot; you will hate the villains and adore the heroes be it small player or main character. But it is the journey that each of these characters take towards the truth (as it seems that they all have their own, and they are embroidered throughout the story in a pattern that you don't really see until you get to the final stitch) that cinched this novel as one of my favourite stories in the New Amsterdam series. It's honest and it's accurate: people make mistakes, be it in their action or in their perspective of the past, and carrying the weight of those mistakes does nothing except drag a person down.
Some heavy stuff for a romance, right? But the romance is there. Around this life lesson is a beautiful and sexy story about a heart making the effort to reach out, about another heart coming to the realisation that is okay to open up, and these two hearts coming together to make for a brighter future.
This is a story about overcoming – fear, anxiety, bad choices – about overcoming demons. It's a journey that goes beyond self-awareness and into self-understanding, digging into the dark corners where the memories and difficulties crouch in order to drag them into the light and expose them. The character studies are as riveting as the sex scenes are hot; you will hate the villains and adore the heroes be it small player or main character. But it is the journey that each of these characters take towards the truth (as it seems that they all have their own, and they are embroidered throughout the story in a pattern that you don't really see until you get to the final stitch) that cinched this novel as one of my favourite stories in the New Amsterdam series. It's honest and it's accurate: people make mistakes, be it in their action or in their perspective of the past, and carrying the weight of those mistakes does nothing except drag a person down.
Some heavy stuff for a romance, right? But the romance is there. Around this life lesson is a beautiful and sexy story about a heart making the effort to reach out, about another heart coming to the realisation that is okay to open up, and these two hearts coming together to make for a brighter future.
May 13, 2016
~~I received a free copy of this book to read and review for Wicked Reads ~~
This is part of a series, and as I read it as a standalone, I fear I have missed some of the background. I would recommend that you read them in order, because I am certain that my experience was less good, because I wasn't fully aware of the dynamics of this group.
I love stories involving dancers, so was immediately attracted to the blurb. Certainly we get a good feel for the pain and commitment that a dancer of Bryn's stature has to endure. Ellis we know mostly from the chatter in his head, and to which we are party. At times, I would have liked him to be more expressive to others, because I found chunks of the story to feel very passive. There was passion, and desire, and a plot that was engaging, but certainly the beginning is rather dry. It set the scene well, in that the clear-of-issues lifestyle that Bryn had adopted, affected all around him., and lessened the happiness dramatically. But persistence pays off, and overall I am pleased that I read the book, and got their story, or at least story so far...
This is part of a series, and as I read it as a standalone, I fear I have missed some of the background. I would recommend that you read them in order, because I am certain that my experience was less good, because I wasn't fully aware of the dynamics of this group.
I love stories involving dancers, so was immediately attracted to the blurb. Certainly we get a good feel for the pain and commitment that a dancer of Bryn's stature has to endure. Ellis we know mostly from the chatter in his head, and to which we are party. At times, I would have liked him to be more expressive to others, because I found chunks of the story to feel very passive. There was passion, and desire, and a plot that was engaging, but certainly the beginning is rather dry. It set the scene well, in that the clear-of-issues lifestyle that Bryn had adopted, affected all around him., and lessened the happiness dramatically. But persistence pays off, and overall I am pleased that I read the book, and got their story, or at least story so far...
March 7, 2016
3.5 stars
July 4, 2016
I was completely sucked into Ellis and Bryn’s story. I started Earthquakes at 11pm and read until my eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer. As soon as I woke the next morning, I started right back up on it. I had to know what Bryn’s secret was. I had to know why Bryn kept seeing Jared (okay, I pretty much guessed the why – but I wanted the details). I wanted to know why Bryn’s mother kept calling and why he wouldn’t answer the phone. I had to know if Ellis was going to be able to scale Bryn’s walls. I had to know if he did, would Bryn let him help break down those walls. I had to know more about Ellis. I had to know more about Bryn. I had to know if there would be a Bryn and Ellis, or if Bryn would succeed in pushing Ellis away.
Although I haven’t read any of the previous books in the New Amsterdam series, Wyre has written the book in such a way that I was able to read it as a standalone. That said, after reading the blurbs from the previous books, I imagine that series fans will enjoy seeing Ellis find his match because it’s clear that this is a close knit group of men and while Bryn is new to the series, Ellis is not. Even though I haven’t gotten to know Ellis over the course of the series, I connected with his character almost immediately. There was just something about him that I adored. Perhaps it was Ellis’s need to draw out the obviously wounded Bryn and his subsequent need to protect the man even as he wanted to submit to him, but it made for a rather heady combination in a character.
As for Bryn, the man was just as fascinating in his brokenness that conflicted with his need to dominate. Unfortunately, because Bryn’s issues and how they affect his behaviors drive the story, I cannot discuss them without spoiling the book. Suffice it to say, I was utterly enthralled by Earthquakes. Watching Ellis’s earnest efforts to get Bryn to notice him and feeling Bryn’s confusion and Ellis’s strength when their first true encounter occurs. Witnessing their first standoff on the gun range the following Monday (hot!). Ellis comes to Bryn’s rescue time and time again, and I was absolutely humbled by Ellis’s ultimatum to himself and his refusal to continue to subject himself to Bryn’s rejections indefinitely. Even before he accompanied Bryn to his family home in South Carolina, Ellis understood that Bryn had received little to affection in his life, that Bryn needed to be shown that he was worthy of love – but Ellis also understood that love was not enough to rid Bryn of his demons, that Bryn had to want to help himself. As for Bryn’s mother, I have no words to describe that woman, at least no words I can put in a review. And the secrets! The secrets that Bryn learns are so devastating, yet enlightening for Bryn because they altered the way he saw his childhood – both the good and the bad. While I would have enjoyed seeing more about Bryn’s healing process, I appreciated that the author included references to Bryn’s recovery – both with his therapist and with Clark. There is no doubt that Ellis’s love and support helped make huge inroads in Bryn’s improvements, but with all that was plaguing him, I’m glad that the author didn’t try to present it as a “love heals all wounds” scenario. I thoroughly enjoyed Earthquakes and Wyre’s writing style, and I hope to find time to read the previous books in the series so that I can get the other men’s stories, especially Clark’s.
I received a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
Reviewed by Angela at Crystal's Many Reviewers!
Although I haven’t read any of the previous books in the New Amsterdam series, Wyre has written the book in such a way that I was able to read it as a standalone. That said, after reading the blurbs from the previous books, I imagine that series fans will enjoy seeing Ellis find his match because it’s clear that this is a close knit group of men and while Bryn is new to the series, Ellis is not. Even though I haven’t gotten to know Ellis over the course of the series, I connected with his character almost immediately. There was just something about him that I adored. Perhaps it was Ellis’s need to draw out the obviously wounded Bryn and his subsequent need to protect the man even as he wanted to submit to him, but it made for a rather heady combination in a character.
As for Bryn, the man was just as fascinating in his brokenness that conflicted with his need to dominate. Unfortunately, because Bryn’s issues and how they affect his behaviors drive the story, I cannot discuss them without spoiling the book. Suffice it to say, I was utterly enthralled by Earthquakes. Watching Ellis’s earnest efforts to get Bryn to notice him and feeling Bryn’s confusion and Ellis’s strength when their first true encounter occurs. Witnessing their first standoff on the gun range the following Monday (hot!). Ellis comes to Bryn’s rescue time and time again, and I was absolutely humbled by Ellis’s ultimatum to himself and his refusal to continue to subject himself to Bryn’s rejections indefinitely. Even before he accompanied Bryn to his family home in South Carolina, Ellis understood that Bryn had received little to affection in his life, that Bryn needed to be shown that he was worthy of love – but Ellis also understood that love was not enough to rid Bryn of his demons, that Bryn had to want to help himself. As for Bryn’s mother, I have no words to describe that woman, at least no words I can put in a review. And the secrets! The secrets that Bryn learns are so devastating, yet enlightening for Bryn because they altered the way he saw his childhood – both the good and the bad. While I would have enjoyed seeing more about Bryn’s healing process, I appreciated that the author included references to Bryn’s recovery – both with his therapist and with Clark. There is no doubt that Ellis’s love and support helped make huge inroads in Bryn’s improvements, but with all that was plaguing him, I’m glad that the author didn’t try to present it as a “love heals all wounds” scenario. I thoroughly enjoyed Earthquakes and Wyre’s writing style, and I hope to find time to read the previous books in the series so that I can get the other men’s stories, especially Clark’s.
I received a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
Reviewed by Angela at Crystal's Many Reviewers!
April 7, 2016
Review can be read at It's About The Book
3.5 stars
I admit I might have liked this a tad more if I had read the others in the series first. I was certainly intrigued enough by the characters to go back one day to read at least Lucian’s story. I’m sure there’s a lot of Ellis’s, one of the MCs from Earthquakes, history I missed out on but I do feel like I had a good grasp on who he was as a character. His history may have helped me understand why he was so willing and able to fall for someone as damaged as Bryn. Totally my fault for reading out of order but I never felt lost. Just like there was back story that might have helped me connect to the group of friends that Ellis has supporting him.
That group of friends are part of New Amsterdam elite. Not only are they rich and somewhat powerful, they’re also part of an exclusive BDSM club. The premise is they’ve all helped each other work out their issues through BDSM and friendship. They may have all hooked up at some point. It may have been sex or just a scene. Either way it was intimate and formed bonds between them all that they take very seriously. This may be the part that had me disconnected from them as I missed out on how their dynamic came to be. It’s obvious they’re very close. Almost family like. Ellis basically was adopted by this group through a support group for veterans.
Ellis is an ex-military man works at a gun range. He’s got a good job. Great friends. A healthy sex life. Now that he’s worked through his issues he’s decided to face what everyone else seems to already know. That he’s got a big crush on the enigmatic ballet dancer that comes to his shop once a week. Ellis tries to chat him up but Bryn wants nothing to do with making friends. Ellis finally pushes for more and intrigues Bryn despite the walls he’s built around him. Ellis gets an invite to an event where he plays savior to Bryn after he mixes cocktails and pills. It’s at this point Ellis realizes that Bryn has real deep issues and demons he’s battling. Ellis realizes just how much he cares for Bryn and that he wants to be there for him. No matter what it takes.
Ellis was a very likable guy. Again I think I missed out on some of his back story and the struggle that made him who he is. I still really liked him. Bryn on the other hand wasn’t very likable. He was cold and brash. Always self medicating despite being a disciplined successful dancer. Bryn’s character was an overabundance of drama and angst. For the majority of the book I wanted to know what was so bad that this poor man tortured and punished himself so badly. When we finally get to see into his past it’s a lot to process in a short time. It was also all resolved way too easily IMO considering how messed up he was. I guess it all didn’t piece together for me. I went from intrigued to drowning in drama with a too tidy ending. There was also a BIG bomb dropped on us that for me was never really resolved in regards to Bryn’s history with Jared.
Another issue I had with this book is the sexual healing thing. I’ll admit to it being a pet peeve of mine. It kind of works with the BDSM theme but Ellis and Bryn barely explore the why’s behind their kink and how it works into them being who they are as individuals and as a couple. I got the feeling other characters in this series may have had more in depth explanation in regards to this. While I liked the characters and was intrigued by the bond between the friends I can’t say I loved this story. I liked it, but for me it had problems.
3.5 stars
I admit I might have liked this a tad more if I had read the others in the series first. I was certainly intrigued enough by the characters to go back one day to read at least Lucian’s story. I’m sure there’s a lot of Ellis’s, one of the MCs from Earthquakes, history I missed out on but I do feel like I had a good grasp on who he was as a character. His history may have helped me understand why he was so willing and able to fall for someone as damaged as Bryn. Totally my fault for reading out of order but I never felt lost. Just like there was back story that might have helped me connect to the group of friends that Ellis has supporting him.
That group of friends are part of New Amsterdam elite. Not only are they rich and somewhat powerful, they’re also part of an exclusive BDSM club. The premise is they’ve all helped each other work out their issues through BDSM and friendship. They may have all hooked up at some point. It may have been sex or just a scene. Either way it was intimate and formed bonds between them all that they take very seriously. This may be the part that had me disconnected from them as I missed out on how their dynamic came to be. It’s obvious they’re very close. Almost family like. Ellis basically was adopted by this group through a support group for veterans.
Ellis is an ex-military man works at a gun range. He’s got a good job. Great friends. A healthy sex life. Now that he’s worked through his issues he’s decided to face what everyone else seems to already know. That he’s got a big crush on the enigmatic ballet dancer that comes to his shop once a week. Ellis tries to chat him up but Bryn wants nothing to do with making friends. Ellis finally pushes for more and intrigues Bryn despite the walls he’s built around him. Ellis gets an invite to an event where he plays savior to Bryn after he mixes cocktails and pills. It’s at this point Ellis realizes that Bryn has real deep issues and demons he’s battling. Ellis realizes just how much he cares for Bryn and that he wants to be there for him. No matter what it takes.
Ellis was a very likable guy. Again I think I missed out on some of his back story and the struggle that made him who he is. I still really liked him. Bryn on the other hand wasn’t very likable. He was cold and brash. Always self medicating despite being a disciplined successful dancer. Bryn’s character was an overabundance of drama and angst. For the majority of the book I wanted to know what was so bad that this poor man tortured and punished himself so badly. When we finally get to see into his past it’s a lot to process in a short time. It was also all resolved way too easily IMO considering how messed up he was. I guess it all didn’t piece together for me. I went from intrigued to drowning in drama with a too tidy ending. There was also a BIG bomb dropped on us that for me was never really resolved in regards to Bryn’s history with Jared.
Another issue I had with this book is the sexual healing thing. I’ll admit to it being a pet peeve of mine. It kind of works with the BDSM theme but Ellis and Bryn barely explore the why’s behind their kink and how it works into them being who they are as individuals and as a couple. I got the feeling other characters in this series may have had more in depth explanation in regards to this. While I liked the characters and was intrigued by the bond between the friends I can’t say I loved this story. I liked it, but for me it had problems.
June 4, 2016
So I’ve not read the others and wasn’t so much confused, as I felt that I was missing too much of the back story of the World they lived in. Who these characters are, how they got there. How the BDSM club came to be, what role did Ellis actually play with Clark. And so on.
Overall it was a pleasant read. Not one of favorites.
Bryn, is a very quiet character, I’m not sure when we actually got more then one or two single word answers out of him. As we learn more, we start to understand, but how can they or we bound a relationship if no words?
Ellis on the other hand is full of words, problem is most are in his head. And he’s created this pre relationship with Bryn before they’ve even had a real conversation. Little on the stalker/creepy side if you ask me. And then just on a personal level, being a military BRAT and knowing way too many ppl with PTSD, I just couldn’t get my head around this person that was injured, active duty, with PTSD working at a gun range? Loud noises, flash backs? IDK, doesn’t work for me.
Once they cross that bridge and Ellis takes the matter in hand, we can see the bond, unique as it is form for these two. Not sure in real life how healthy it was for Bryn, but it is fiction after all.
I was given a copy in exchange for an honest review by Crystals many reviewers
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