Conquer
Fearless
2
Angelique
Voisen
Genre: MM romance
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: July 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-945193-06-4
Word Count: 25000
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Book Description:
Most people fear the dark. Some
embrace it.
Blackened windows, a 400-square
foot self-made prison, and a loyal Welsh corgi—that’s the extent of former
soldier Matthew Ash’s world. Matt’s tasted hell’s battlefield. He wears the
scars on his skin and soul to prove it. Matt’s agoraphobia keeps his demons out
and that’s all that matters.
Burnt-out MMA fighter Will Grove
is having the worst year of his life. His boyfriend broke up with him and he
just lost the fight of the decade. He moves to a new town, seeking a fresh
start. Everyone tells him to watch for the crazy recluse, but Will makes his
own rules. One glimpse of Matt is all Will needs to recognize a man whose mind
is fucked-up as his own.
Matt’s certain Will’s going to
run. Will’s out to prove this is one fight he’s not going to lose.
Excerpt:
I don’t like
small talk, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good with it. After half an hour, I
make up an excuse that I need to meet a friend. Before the Cumbers leave,
Martha takes me aside and says five strange words.
“Watch for the
crazy recluse.”
“Excuse me?”
Stuart winces.
“Unit 311, next to yours. No one has seen the tenant since he moved in six
months ago.”
“Ever? Even to
take the morning paper?” I ask, unable to hide the intrigue in my voice.
Martha shakes
her head. “He trained his dog to fetch it for him. These days, everything can
be ordered online, including groceries. I think he allows the delivery guy in.”
“Don’t tell me
we’re all holed up with a serial killer?” I joke, but they don’t find it funny.
They look dead serious.
“Once, Old Ted
from 312 came knocking. Tried to invite him to a floor party, but the guy
shoved the barrel of a shotgun at Ted’s face. Nearly gave the old guy another
heart attack,” Stuart says.
“And no one’s
reported this to the police?” I ask.
Martha shakes
her head. “He hasn’t hurt anyone yet. We thought he was secretly growing weed
in there, but the cops came out clean, shaking their heads.”
“Yeah, okay,
thanks for the tip.”
I close the door
and sit myself in my empty kitchen. Stuart’s right. The pie’s amazing. I finish
it off in a forkful of generous bites and down it with two bottles of the
town’s locally brewed beer. Something this sinful screws with my diet, but I
think I can afford a break. Later, when I have things sorted out, I’ll head to
the supermarket and buy my essentials in bulk.
“Damn,” I
mutter, still tasting the cold and smooth amber liquid down my throat. “They
never said they make good beers, too. Maybe self-exile won’t be such a bad
thing after all.”
Fuck. I might
even pick up some hobby. Gardening or some relaxing shit to pass the time. Get
my stress levels way down. Maybe, if I feel a little wild, I’ll swing by the
roadhouse I spotted on the way here. Time to strap on a pair of balls and see
if there are some rugged cowboys or lost young men looking for a night out.
My stomach
churns at the thought of being with another man other than Gary.
I’ve been out of
the dating game for half a decade, five fucking years down the drain just like
that. Sixty months of manufactured memories. In the end, Gary made it plain he
only valued me for one thing—for being a winner. It only took one loss for Gary
to sever the bonds and move on, not caring about the scars he left behind.
I only need to
look at my boxes to see bits and pieces of Gary poking out the cartons. Shows
what a pussy I am, keeping reminders of him without his knowledge. I flinch at
them all—Gary’s favorite Seahawks sweatshirt and the pair of cheap sunglasses I
bought him when we vacationed in Rio. The gun-shaped lighter he loved, along
with the button he earned from Nicotine Anonymous for staying clean for six
months.
It never stuck.
Gary doesn’t like consistency. He got his kicks then moved on, same with people.
Any therapist will tell me that all this is unhealthy behavior. Better to
forget the past and move on. I can’t. Gary’s things are puzzle pieces I need.
Someday, I’ll piece them all up and understand why he left me.
I’m hopeful they
might even contain answers on how I can win him back. For now, I’ll remain in
Oakville. Get lean and back in shape. Good enough to win fights in the rings,
and Gary.
The sound of
clanging pans startles me back to reality. I narrow my eyes. My body tenses,
ready to spring into action. A curse comes from next door, from the thin walls
separating me from the psycho living there. I stand and press my ear against
the wall.
A dog barks,
followed by a gruff voice. My mysterious neighbor begins coaxing his pet in
soothing tones. I can’t make out the words yet, but the stranger on the other
side sparks my interest. Is he an old grump, some misunderstood vet who wants
to be left alone? Can he be a disturbed young man, plotting something sinister?
I snort. “Look
at me. I’ve got nothing better to do than eavesdrop on my neighbor. Oh, and
talking to myself. All I need is to get a cat.”
Disgusted, I
pull away. A list. I need one to be organized and remain sane. It takes me an
hour to find a notepad and a working pen from my boxes. I plan what I need to
do for the next few hours, days, and weeks. Work’s good. It helps elevate the
pain and rage. Makes it easier to lock them up in a box and forget them for a
while. Sooner or later, I’ll need to take out that box. Confront my fears, but
not today.
Still, I check
my phone for messages or emails from Burt Green, my manager, or Gary. I hate
myself after, for allowing myself to feel self-pity.
“Home Depot then
grocery shopping,” I mutter, glancing at my list. I grab my jacket and car
keys.
Time to take the
first step forward.
“If I’m still
feeling lonely, I’ll stop by the pet shop and get myself a fat tabby to share
my misery with.”
Angelique Voisen is a bisexual,
twenty-something, type-2 diabetic and multi-pubbed writer who favors LGBT and
ménage pairings. She likes experimenting with different sub-genres and her
stories may include cogs, fangs, space battles, kinky magic systems and
happily-ever-afters. When Angel’s not writing, she’s gaming, watching B-rated
action movies, or enjoying teatime with friends while enviously eyeing their
cake.
For more information on other
books by Angelique, visit her website:
