Art of Death (Lychgate: Book 1)
Gay Supernatural Murder Mystery with a Side of Dark Romance
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Mystery/Suspense, Gay, LGBTQ
Series: Lychgate (Book 1 of 3)
Published by: DSP Publications
Release Date: September 3, 2019
Available in: Ebook, Paperback
Amazon | Barnes&Noble | Kobo | IndieBound | Publisher
Starving artist Riley Burke refuses to be dependent on his rich older boyfriend—hence his second job as a nude model at the local art school. When the famous artist Coliaro requests him for a private modeling session, he jumps at the chance to earn some real cash.
But then Westwood, a mysterious stranger, warns him to steer clear—it’s said Coliaro is undead. That his worshippers perform rituals to fill him with life energy. That every time he paints a male nude, the painting transforms to depict a gruesome murder. And that shortly after, a young man turns up dead.
Riley dismisses the rumors—until they start to play out before his eyes. When he becomes a target, Westwood comes to his aid. But Westwood is secretive and dangerous himself… which just makes him more attractive to Riley. Riley is in over his head, and even his tenuous alliance with Westwood might not save him.
Out Now in Ebook and Paperback!
Amazon | Barnes&Noble | Kobo | IndieBound | Publisher
5 Stars – Joyfully Jay
“The writing is excellent, the characterization — especially of Riley — is strong and so very human; the world building, the careful drips and drops of hints and exposition kept me guessing“…
5 Stars – MM Good Book Reviews
“I must say I was impressed with how well thought and descriptive this story was. There were twists and turns throughout that I never saw coming.“
5 Stars – Reviews by Jaye
“I was glued to every page, even when I wanted to look away. It was the perfect combination of horror, suspense, and mystery, and I wanted more.“
4 Stars – Paranormal Romance Guild
“‘Art of Death’ is an engaging paranormal novel with characters who have readily recognizable lives including the push and pull of relationship dynamics, career snags, and trust issues. Just when you think you have a firm hold on that, along come the undead and their adoring but fanatical minion whose introduction hints at the edge of your seat action to come.“
Excerpt
After a week of being chauffeured around town in Nick’s spacious Jaguar with supple leather seats and the perfect new car smell, Riley was surprised at how happy he was to reclaim his secondhand 1994 Corolla that smelled of curry and shoes. Freedom, it seemed, was the ultimate luxury. But with only forty-five minutes before he had to pose for his next class, there wasn’t enough time to celebrate his freedom with a drive home and back for lunch. And if pressed, he’d have chosen to suck up all of Siesta Key’s sand through a straw before resorting to a meal in the school’s dining hall. The food was tolerable as long as you got it on Monday. Any other day, you’d be eating Monday’s leftovers.
It was Wednesday, and the last thing Riley wanted was food poisoning in the middle of a three-hour pose. He headed across the street to the Nanday Café, where the worst he could expect was a curly hair in his sandwich. It was small and dim, with weathered plastic seats and no sense of interior design, but it was the best choice for anyone looking for something edible within walking distance of the campus.
The café’s logo was a hideous cartoon depiction of a nanday conure, a species of small parrot that could sometimes be found in feral colonies in Sarasota. Riley had seen them a few times; the birds were much cuter in real life than the illustration suggested. As he stood in line staring idly at the neon-rimmed logo on the wall behind the counter, he wondered at the fact that someone had actually been paid to draw a parrot with biceps that rivaled Popeye’s while he was stuck posing naked every day to make ends meet.
He was at last spared the agony of brooding over his pitiful career when he reached the front of the line and gave his order. Soon after, he headed to a secluded corner of the café with a bowl of vegetable soup and a turkey sandwich, settled in, and pulled out his cell phone to check his messages.
He was hoping Nick had sent him a text. It was a sweet ritual the two of them had begun about a year ago: leaving a silly text or voice message around lunchtime relaying a set of fictitious events that had happened at work that morning. He navigated through his finicky phone, which told him he had a new message but refused to bring it up for him to read.
Absorbed in the pixelated screen before him, he didn’t notice a man taking a seat at the other side of the table until the man cleared his throat. Riley raised his head and jumped back in shock.
The guy looked to be in his midthirties, richly tanned, with chestnut hair done up in spikes. His chiseled face was intense, his eyes so dark they could have been pure black. Even in a T-shirt, he looked somehow impressive, perhaps due to the defined musculature Riley couldn’t help but gawk at.
His gut reaction was to scan the room to make sure Nick wasn’t around to see them together. While Riley thought it was silly for Nick to feel threatened over someone like Porter, this guy was a different story.
He turned back to the man. “How long have you been sitting there?” he asked, embarrassed at the squeak in his voice.
“You’re the figure model, right?” the man asked, ignoring Riley’s question. “Riley Burke. The one who Coliaro wants to paint.”
“That’s me. It’s like I’ve become famous overnight. People are even starting to recognize me with my clothes on.”
The man chuckled, and the rumbling vibration of his laugh made Riley’s heart flutter. It was the kind of laugh he would have loved to feel against the back of his neck….
He forced the thought out of his mind, cursing at his overeager imagination and plastering on a neutral smile.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day?” the man asked.
“Yeah.”
“And I hear you’re doing a private session with him in the evening.”
Why did this random hot guy know so much about his plans with Coliaro? Riley shot him a questioning glance. “I’m sorry—who are you?”
“Ah, I didn’t introduce myself.” The man held out a large brown hand. “Westwood. I teach illustration.”
Riley shook the man’s hand, and something about that warm, powerful grip made his breath catch with anticipation. Once he realized he was gawking again, he shook his head and tried to collect himself. “You teach at Prestwick?”
“That’s right.”
Riley picked up his spoon, nervously rubbing his thumb along its dipped interior. He took a closer look at Westwood’s face, examining his unique features. Angular eyes, heavy brow ridge, full lips. Riley couldn’t have even guessed at his ethnicity, but he was stunning. “I studied illustration at Prestwick. It’s been a few years, but I think I would have remembered you.”
“I’m new,” Westwood said. He looked around before leaning in and lowering his voice. “So I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors about Coliaro?”
“Yeah, I know. Serial murders linked to his paintings and so forth.”
Westwood leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m not talking about that rumor.”
Riley resisted the urge to lean in as well. He set his spoon down and began twisting his napkin into an absorbent little spear—anything to keep his hands busy. Fidgeting was a nervous habit of his that always drove Nick crazy. “What other rumor is there?”
Westwood didn’t reply right away. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if he enjoyed making Riley squirm. After he’d milked the silence for as long as he could, he finally answered, “People say that he’s undead.”
“I’m sorry….” Riley opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shook his head in almost irritated disbelief. “People say he’s what?”
“Undead,” Westwood enunciated, as if the only problem was Riley’s lack of hearing.
Why did the devastatingly sexy ones always turn out to be complete nutcases? Riley wanted to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and assume he was joking, but he looked dead serious. Glancing around, Riley wondered if any other café patrons were close enough to listen in. “You said you teach at Prestwick?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Hmm.” Riley tossed his twisted napkin onto his tray and began running his fingernail over the serrated edge of his plastic knife. Click-click-click-click. Click-click-click-click. At last he asked, “What does that mean? ‘Undead’?”
“He was mortal once, but then he died. And then he revived. And now he’s immortal.”
“You mean like a vampire?”
Westwood balked. “Vampires aren’t real.”
Riley sucked in a slow, patient breath.
Westwood continued as if he hadn’t noticed Riley’s skepticism. “Simply put, the undead are beings who have risen after death. They have unique superhuman strengths born from the way they lived or the way they died. And once they rise, they’re nearly impossible to kill for good—unless you know their secret weakness.”
“Superhuman strengths and secret weaknesses. So… they’re like superheroes?” The glint in Westwood’s eyes turned sly, almost mischievous. “More like supervillains.”
Art of Death (Lychgate: Book 1)
Out Now in Ebook and Paperback!
Amazon | Barnes&Noble | Kobo | IndieBound | Publisher
Want to learn more? Check out all my blog posts about Art of Death and the Lychgate series!