Book: Living On Air by Susan Mac Nicolcategories: Book, Circus, Aerialist, War, Photographer, Journalist, MM Romance, Circus Life, Dancer, Gay Romance
Susan Mac Nicolabout this book: This book took me a while to write because it was a real challenge. I went so far as to join a circus for four days and live in a caravan in the winter cold, a caravan that had no running water, no flushable toilet and was as chilly as the heart of a Siberian worker. It was an awesome experience and seeing how a circus operates behind the scenes was a real eye opener.
You can find out more about my visit there (with my husband Gary and see some real-life pictures here
I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful friend who was my muse for Cary. He's called Dr Chris Talbot and you can read more about him on my website.
LIVING ON AIR
For aerialist, Cary Stilwell, aside from performing forty feet in the air, life holds little comfort until he meets Rhys McIntyre, who punctures all of Cary's defences.
PIERCING THE NIGHT
Cary Stilwell has been existing since he was ten years old, and each year it gets harder to find meaning in his bleak life. The only exception - his work. As a top-billed aerialist in a popular travelling circus, he enjoys accolades and applause, but little else. When notable photographer, Rhys McIntyre, joins the circus to catalogue its inner workings, Cary fights the attraction that hits him from the moment they meet. But a kind soul wrapped in a beautiful body has a way of battering all the walls Cary has built around his cold, dark heart.
Rhys McIntyre is on his third iteration of reinventing himself. Once a hotdog financier, he embraced his passion for photography and became an eminent war photo journalist. Until one too many bullets lodged in his body, and he gave up the front lines for the softer side of chronicling life. When he accepts the assignment to record life in a circus, the last thing he expects is to find the man crush of his dreams. Except Cary Stilwell is a cold, tortured man who seems incapable of any warm emotion, never mind love. But Rhys is known for his persistence, and this time the pay-off might be more than he could have ever imagined.
The photographer with Julien made me nervous. He dwarfed Julien, so at my five-eight, I'd look even smaller beside him. The man's broad shoulders were pronounced against his tight tee-shirt, his shock of dark hair streaked with copper glinted in the sunlight, reflecting like light off a bronze sculpture. His casual ensemble of tight-fitting brown jeans and a pale pink shirt made him a study in rose and scarlet. And while he was beefier in stature, he resembled the friend I'd loved and lost.
Cameron had loved wearing pink too.
Something needy unfurled in my belly and I wasn't prepared for it. Seeing this photographer sparked something inside me I thought was dead and rotting.
And when the man turned and levelled his gaze toward me, his bright green eyes greeted me with equal appreciation. The sudden flit down my bare chest to my tight, fabric-encased groin suggested the man was of my persuasion or bi. Greta's unerring instinct was spot on, as usual. Her gaydar was accurate from ten miles away.
I willed the thing in my belly to curl up tight and hide away. Such thoughts and feelings led to despair, hurt, and nothing good.
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