It's kind of funny. When I started the book, Blue Moon, I had no idea it would be part of a series. It's a short series (three books), but still. I envisioned a short story about two guys, one who is dead and one who hasn't gotten over the death. The story line came out of a conversation with someone about dealing with the loss of a dear friend. I've had some friends come and go, but I haven't lost anyone super close to me (fingers crossed, knocking wood, etc). But I've helped others through this particular crushing time.
During a recent event where a close friend of mine dealt with the death of a beloved pet, I had the characters of Tristan and Paul come to mind. Paul was very, very sad. He had his black cat, Snowflake, to help him grieve, but even she didn't help him deal with losing his partner and best friend, Tristan. All of this didn't come out right away. Paul had to go through the grieving process.
When he first showed up, he was angry and denying his partner had been killed. He'd only talked to Snowflake at the time. Then he moved on to bargaining and depression. If only Tristan would come back, things would get better. The bargaining didn't last long, but the depression did. Blue Moon is his way of accepting and possibly moving forward.
Sounds like it would be a depressing as hell story, doesn't it? I'm not going to lie. Having the conversations with Paul in my head were...heavy. I went through a bout of malaise at the time. Nothing seemed to gel and I just...it was rough. But I got into his headspace and understood where he was coming from. This was tough stuff. The man he loved had died...on Halloween and wearing a cheesy devil costume.
Are you wondering what happened next? Well, there is a demon, a bargain and some hot sex involved. The order of those events, well, you'll have to read the book to find out. I don't want to give too much away.
Blue Moon by Megan Slayer
Part of the Scare This collection
MLR Press
M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation
Contemporary, Paranormal, Ghosts
Short Story
The
ghost at my door claims to be my ex-boyfriend, back from the dead. Yeah, right.
Ghosts don’t exist. I know they
don’t. Why? I’ve never seen one. I’ve seen everything else—from Sasquatch to hell hounds and
more…even vampires, but I’ve never laid eyes on a ghost.
Go figure. It’s Halloween. All sorts
of stuff happens on the spookiest night of the year. There will be plenty of
people out having a good time, scaring each other and begging for candy.
They’ll try to get me involved, but I know better.
Have I mentioned I hate Halloween?
Two years ago on October 31st, my world fell apart and I know it’ll
never be fixed. No ghost can ease my broken heart and bring my boyfriend back
to me. None.
Available here:
AllRomance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-bluemoon-1660780-340.html
EXCERPT:
©Megan
Slayer, 2014, all rights reserved
“Bitter isn’t a good color on you.”
Paul tapped the remote, silencing the
television. He could’ve sworn he heard someone besides the people on the screen
talking. The voice sounded like Tristan, but that was impossible. Tristan Evans
had died two years ago.
“Come on, Paul. Hasn’t it been long
enough?”
Damn it. That had to
be Tristan’s voice, but from where? He glanced around the room. With the
exception of the cat, he was alone. He’d locked the front and back doors and
checked the house to ensure everything was safe. Right after Tristan had died,
he could’ve sworn he’d heard Tristan talking to him. The shrink dismissed the
voice as being a figment of Paul’s imagination and longing. Paranoia, the
shrink called it. Paul only lasted the rest of the session before finding a new
psychiatrist.
Hearing Tristan had to be a figment
of Paul’s imagination—again.
“If you won’t properly speak to me,
I’ll stop coming to you.”
Paul squeezed his eyes shut. In his
mind he saw Tristan leaning against the bedroom doorframe. He wore his favorite
ratty, body –hugging blue jeans, no socks or shoes and the old
Flashes shirt he loved. The muscles in his arms bulged and his dark hair
flopped over his forehead. His blue eyes blazed as he tipped his head
to the side. Even as a memory, he sent warm shivers through Paul’s system.
“You’ve got to stop hating the
holiday we both loved. Hate won’t bring me back.” Tristan strode towards him
and hooks his thumbs in his front pockets. “Cheer up. Please?”
Tears slipped down Paul’s cheeks. The
hurt he’d bottled up for the better part of the last two years came back in a
rush. “I know I should, but I can’t. I lost you and seeing all of the Halloween
decorations makes that loss so fresh and raw. I can’t do it. I love you, but I
can’t keep ripping myself open.”
“Then keep loving me.”
Paul wiped his face and opened his
eyes. He needed to get his shit together. Talking to a figment of his
imagination wasn’t going to help his situation. Still, the words poured out of
him. “How? How do I forget the man I love?”
Tristan sat opposite him on the bed.
“You keep my memory alive, thus keeping me alive.”
Paul blinked. He’d opened his eyes.
There was no way Tristan could be on the bed with him. No way. He’d buried his
lover. “You’re a ghost. Ghosts don’t exist. What the fuck is going on?” He
scrambled off the mattress and landed on the floor with a thud. One of the
pillows flopped over onto him and he shoved it away. His mind had to be playing
tricks on him. “No. Ghost do not exist.”
“Technically I’m not a ghost, but you’d
be surprised.” Tristan—or what sure as
hell lookedlike Tristan—sighed and stood. He turned his back on Paul. “It all comes down
to rules and you know how much I hate rules.” He glanced over his shoulder and
smiled. “I found a way around the rules.”
Paul rounded the bed and placed
himself between Tristan’s ghost and the cat. No one hurt Milo—not even a crazy ghost who claimed to
be Paul’s ex-boyfriend. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but
the joke is over. You had your fun and old Paul looks like a moron. You won,
now get the hell out of my house.”
“Aww, honey, I’m not trying to dupe
you.” The man strolled across the room to the bed. “Paul, I’m here.”
Megan Slayer - It's Always Fun to Squirm
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