SAVE ME FROM MYSELF
by Cassie Stevens
M/M Erotic Romance - Short Contemporary
July 2010
Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure
ISBN 978-1-60272-720-5
Reid Hansen has always had a "thing" for Marines. But not for former Marine, now up and coming fashion designer, Jackson Tate. In fact, Reid would rather see Jackson dead.
Jackson Tate has more success than he'd ever imagined, and all the stress that goes with it. Who better to help pull him back from the edge than Reid Hansen? But his fateful and unexpected presence in Jackson's life resurrects the ghost of the Marine Reid once loved, the Marine Jackson served with, the Marine who died saving Jackson's life, and it's quite clear that Reid has no intention of offering Jackson the salvation he seeks. In fact, it seems Reid would rather deliver that final shove that destroys him. Jackson is the last man Reid wants to meet. Their lives first intersected on an Iraqi desert years before. Now, finally face-to-face, resentment, anger, and guilt put them at odds. Grief and the truth bind them. And then there's the unrelenting want fueling their actions. A craving neither can deny. Yes, Reid's the one man who could save Jackson from himself. But who is saving whom? To read an excerpt of this book, click here
What The Reviewers Are Saying FOUR LIPS! Save Me From Myself by Cassie Stevens is about two people who have to overcome a tragedy and find their way to love. Both have scars from the war in Iraq. While Jackson’s are more physical, Reid’s are emotional as he's still grieving the man he thought was the love of his life. When he meets Jackson the sexual electricity between them makes Reid feel unfaithful to his late lover. But the more the two get to know about each other and when Reid learns the truth of what really happened in Iraq when Stan died, they begin to think that perhaps they are what the other needs after all.
I loved the journey these two took in Save Me From Myself. I didn’t feel like their relationship was rushed or forced, which was really nice. Reid had some real feelings to get over before he can find love again, and I am happy to have seen his journey from darkness to light as he fell in love with Jackson. – Tina, Two Lips Reviews Excerpt Few things rattled Reid Hansen. He
never walked into any situation, personal or business, without being fully
informed and prepared for anything. He prided himself -- no, pride was a word
filled with hubris waiting to happen. Reid racked his brain looking for a
similar comparison. That he'd allowed his thoughts to stumble tonight was yet
another signal of how easily even the most prepared could fall from grace. Reid knew how to read people, how
body language broadcast feelings, emotions, and needs. He shuddered to think
what he'd see if he dared glance at himself in one of the floor-to-ceiling
mirrors ringing the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd cut off his view. Why
couldn't the crush of people cut off his view of the man of the hour -- Jackson
Tate. Even from a distance, the impact of seeing Jackson cut Reid's heart into
ribbons of fire and pain. Other than the occasional photo
spread Reid had stumbled upon in the newspapers, he hadn't seen Jackson in more
years than he wanted to admit. They'd never officially met, but the animosity
was there just the same. Reid was a fool to think he could be in the same room
with Jackson now. One glance dredged up all the pain and grief like it'd
happened yesterday. He'd wanted the man dead then, wanted Stan back and Jackson
Tate's blood and guts strewn across the Iraqi sands instead. Seeing Jackson
now, in all his supposed glory, Reid still wanted him dead. Jackson's broad shoulders filled
out the tuxedo he'd designed. After all, if a man couldn't wear the clothes
he'd designed, what would that say about his label? He'd also managed to tame
his shaggy blond hair into the semblance of gentleman tonight. Jackson's night
to shine, all eyes were on him, on the clothing line unveiled hours before.
Wealth and all the prestige that went with it were a hand grasp away. But Reid knew. He could read the
man like a book, like every other man and woman in the place. It was Reid's job
to read people. Every facet of his life required that talent -- business and personal. What he saw in Jackson was
a mirror to Reid's own grief. A man on the cusp of the pinnacle of success, haunted
by the monster he'd created -- the clothing line everyone clamored to have for
their closets. God only knew what else lurked behind those brown eyes. It sure
as hell wasn't joy, despite the blinding white smile Jackson flashed to those
around him. He'd been given a gift -- life. He'd been give a talent -- designing. And
what Reid saw was a man ready to throw it all away, wasting the precious
moments fate had given him while Stan's body lay six feet under. Damn,
I thought I was better than this. Apparently not. Apparently, old
ghosts were easy to resurrect. Control was Reid's middle name. He'd be doing
good to exercise a bit of that on himself. Failing that, he knew a fellow dom
or two who could help him exorcise the hate festering inside. "Something wrong?" Reid blinked away the emotion
crushing him and managed to give Cabot Logan the semblance of a smile. "A
little distracted with some of the court cases coming up." He hid the lie
behind a feigned sip of golden champagne. He hated champagne. Grabbing a flute
at these events gave everyone the impression he was part of the party while it
gave Reid something to hold on to while he mingled. Rarely did a sip actually
pass his lips. "I appreciate you coming tonight. I
know how busy you are." Was that sarcasm in Cabot's voice? "Come on" -- he clapped Reid on the
back -- "I want you to meet Jackson." Reid wanted anything but. He
ordered his feet to follow Cabot through the tangle of guests and models -- both
male and female -- and keep his eyes off the exit doors somewhere behind him. Cabot was the best of the best.
He'd made himself Jackson's benefactor and head cheerleader, singing the man's
praises, wearing his clothing. Cabot had been trying to get Reid to meet
Jackson for months. Reid had agreed to come to the show tonight; he couldn't
very well walk out now without explaining more than he wanted about their past
connection. "Great show tonight," Cabot said
over his shoulder. "Yes, I saw all the A-listers in
the front row." And, yes, that was
sarcasm in Reid's voice. Somehow, Cabot had managed to get all of Mesquite's
wives front and center, Reid's sister included. It was one of those rare photo
ops of the heartbreakers who'd married the rock band brothers. "He'll be the go-to man for all the
award shows now," Reid added. Cabot paused to let Reid walk
beside him. "And he'll hate every minute of it." His voice was low, as if he
shared a great secret or the key to a conspiracy brewing. "You have no idea
what it took to get him to agree to this tonight. He was very much about making
affordable clothing for the average person. Now this..." Cabot waved his hand over the crowd. "He's not happy with me
at all." He's
not? Reid pulled his shoulders back and dared a look in Jackson's
direction. He couldn't see him for the crowd. "Then why did he do it? Why did you insist?" Reid felt stupid for
asking. He knew Cabot well. The man did nothing without a good reason. He was
methodical in his business practices. "Because" -- he started walking again,
drawing Reid with him like a well-caught fish -- "being on the red carpet, with
celebrities clamoring for his designs will have the average person haunting the
stores for his affordable line of clothing. We're not talking shoddy junk here.
This is a good, quality product at a price people can afford. His business will
soar and all those people he wants to help will benefit. And his goal is to
help a lot of people...everywhere." Well...perhaps Reid couldn't resent
the man too much. As if by decree, the crowd parted
before them, giving Reid and Cabot a clear path to Jackson Tate. Deep brown
eyes glanced in their direction. Half-filled champagne flute was poised before
his lips. The gold liquid highlighted what little tan Jackson had. Long fingers
pinched the glass awkwardly, his little finger thrust out to balance what
appeared to be an unwieldy burden. "Then why the long face?" Reid
asked Cabot. "He looks like a deer caught in the headlights." Like Bambi's mother. "Because that's how he feels."
Another conspiratorial tone against Reid's ear. "Like many creative people,
Jackson prefers to cave-up and be left to his own devices. He is the consummate
introvert, more comfortable on his home turf. Stock prices for every antacid on
the market have quadrupled since this show was conceived. I thought another
friendly face would help get him through the night." Reid almost told Cabot that his
face wasn't it. That Reid was just as likely to exploit Jackson's weakness and
have him curled in a ball at his feet, sniveling like a baby...all for the sheer
sin of having survived an Iraqi firefight when Reid's lover did not. But then Jackson set the champagne
flute on the tray of a passing waiter, his gaze still on the men headed his
way. He dropped his hand to his side, fingers flexing in and out of a fist.
Reid wondered if he was getting ready to take a swing at him. Though why he'd
dare was a mystery. They'd never met. If Jackson knew Reid at all in connection
with Stan, it was that they were friends, not lovers. In the heat of battle,
however, don't-ask-don't-tell could have easily given way to deathbed
confessions. Once a Marine, always a Marine, and Jackson could very well have a
serious prejudice, which he should have gotten over long ago, considering his
line of work. That's when Reid spied the telltale
quiver in Jackson's hand. The man was scared. Cabot breached the remaining few
steps with outstretched arms -- one to Jackson, the other to Reid. "Jackson Tate,
Reid Hansen." Smiles, nods for those watching.
Their hands came up at the same time. Clasped in the standard greeting.
Jackson's grip tightened. Then he gripped both hands over Reid's in a double
shake that sent tremors up Reid's arm. "I'm so glad to finally meet you
face-to-face. I've heard a lot about you over the years." He squeezed Reid's trapped hand a
little harder, like it was his lifeline. Relief washed over his strained
features. His smile softened. Reid's heart slipped to his throat.
"Nice to meet you as well," he replied. Now...where the hell was that exit? The
last thing he wanted was to be this man's lifeline, or to be his friend,
or...anything else. "When was the last time you had a
decent meal?" Reid asked. Yeah...some habits were too hard to
break. He'd asked the question out of habit; after all, it was his job to see
others got what they needed. Clearly, that trumped everything else. Plus he'd
always had a soft spot for Marines...even those who'd formerly served. Problem
was, there wasn't anything soft about how he felt right now. And that was the last thing Reid
wanted to feel for Jackson Tate.
