Top Shelf
A Seacroft Novel
Allison Temple
M/M Romance
Release Date: 05.20.19
Blurb
Martin is a ghost. Well,
not really, but he might as well be. Job gone, home gone, self-respect gone,
and no one even seems to notice. The only person who really sees him is Seb,
the artist who lives above the used bookstore.
Seb haunts the edges of
Seacroft in search of beauty. He knows how to excavate the hidden value in
abandoned things—whether it's in the pages of forgotten books or in Martin's
stuttering attempts to rebuild his life—and transform them into works of art.
Two lost souls, Seb and
Martin discover the strength they need to face eccentric townies and their
dysfunctional families together. But as friendship sparks toward something
more, neither man wants to risk what they’ve only just found. It takes two to
fall in love, but it will take the whole community to bring their beauty to
life.
Top Shelf is an 81k slow
burn friends-to-lovers MM romance. It features an anxious professor, a drama
queen artist, a bookstore that might be haunted, and a full-blown heart-eyes
HEA.
Amazon: http://bit.ly/Top-Shelf_
International: http://mybook.to/TopShelf
Review
Martin is a victim of a coverup that he could no longer keep
quiet about. When scandal hit the college he taught at and everyone, including
himself, was suspect Martin hid and then ran. The entire episode left him
damaged—a mere shadow of the man he used to be—not that he was all that
outspoken to begin with. Martin had always been quiet and reserved but now he
was lost and alone and trying his best to take small steps toward finding
himself again. His brother has given him a home in the seaside town of Seacroft
and Martin has started a job at the local bookstore. It’s there that he meets
Seb—an artist who speaks his mind and has no qualms about running roughshod
over Martin and nearly everyone else.
Martin finds himself draw to the man who creates magic out
of discarded books. But Seb has a lot of baggage he carries around from a
family that threw him away and who he has never forgiven. Can two wounded men
make a fresh start and put their past behind them or are they doomed to run for
the rest of their lives?
I am just going to state unequivocally that I absolutely
loved this novel. Top Shelf by Alison
Temple is a gorgeous hurt/comfort romance that I devoured in one sitting. Even
though Seb was prickly and some might even say unkind to Martin initially, it was
all explained later in the story so that we could understand what motivate his
callous demeanor. His family had hurt
him as a teenager when they could not understand his rebellious phase or the
fact that, like his brother whom they seemed to accept, he, too, was gay. My
heart wept for Seb and how much anger he still carried over the past. But it
was gentle, sweet Martin who really crept firmly into my heart and made a home
there.
Martin was such a victim—a person who was so overwhelmed by
the scandal that made he and every other professor on campus suspect and the
victims of a rabid group of violent, screaming protestors who laid in wait for
them to appear. He had done nothing wrong and yet, due to the college trying to
push it all under the carpet, he too bore the brunt of the student’s anger.
Martin deserved happiness as did Seb. When these two finally let go of their
defenses and begin to let the other in, the author creates a beautiful love
story for them. It was just perfect how these two fell in love and absolutely
shattering when it looked as though it was all going to fall apart.
Allison Temple is a new author for me but I definitely will
be watching for her future work—she is a top notch storytelling and I highly
recommend Top Shelf to you. I cannot
wait for the next book in this new series.
Excerpt
The distinct sound of footsteps had him freezing in place again.
Martin’s breath went shallow, and he clutched at the phone. Was it
inappropriate to call the police on his first day of work? There was someone in
the store, and Martin was very sure he had not seen anyone come in since
Cassidy had left.
He moved in between the shelves as his mind raced. What if someone
had snuck in? Broken in?
Why would someone sneak in to steal used books?
Martin grabbed a cookbook off a shelf labeled ‘Everything is
Better With Salt’ and hefted it, testing the weight. If someone was back there,
and that someone was up to no good, Martin could use the book as a weapon.
There was a soft sound of someone humming, and it made the hairs
on Martin’s neck prickle. He tripped at the edge of the next shelf.
“Cass, is that you?”
Martin froze with the cookbook half-raised to his shoulder. Every
part of him went on alert at the sound of a man’s voice, much closer than he’d
expected.
Another book dropped to the ground.
He peeked around a shelf. The first thing his brain registered was
white, and it was almost enough to convince him that he was seeing a ghost. His
fingers tightened around the cookbook.
A long pale arm reached up and lifted a book off the very top
shelf.
It was a man.
He wore faded jeans and a gray T-shirt. His hair was bleached
blond. If he was a thief, he was a terrible one, because he flipped through the
book, then let it drop to the floor next to what must have been the other ones
Martin had already heard fall.
He was a man though, whoever he was. Tall and solid. Not a ghost.
Martin lowered the cookbook. Assaulting a customer on his first day would be a
bad career move.
“Excuse me,” he said, but it was drowned out as the next book
thumped to the floor. Martin hopped back a step, but gathered himself and tried
again. “Excuse me. I’m closing up.”
“Sure thing,” the man said as he stretched up on his toes again,
reaching for another book. His shirt lifted from the waist of his jeans, and
the skin underneath was so pale it enhanced his ghostly appearance.
When Martin didn’t leave, the man glanced over his shoulder, and
his face made Martin’s heart stop. He wasn’t a ghost or a thief, but whoever he
was, he was handsome. Blue eyes flicked up and down once, like he was trying to
decide the kind of threat Martin might pose.
As Martin inhaled to assert himself again, the man turned back to
the shelf.
“You—” Martin swallowed hard, willing himself to stand firm.
“You’ll have to go.”
Those blue eyes darted toward Martin again, like a wrist flicking
at a fly. The man grinned, a slow sly grin that made Martin’s insides twist.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” the man said.
Martin’s ears burned. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.
“If—If there’s something you’d like to buy, I can help you cash
out. Otherwise, we’ll be open again on Monday at—” What time did they open? It
had been nine o’clock on Saturday. Was it the same time on weekdays?
The blond man frowned, and Martin’s heart lurched under the
stranger’s scrutiny. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had really
looked at him. For all his rising panic at the feeling of being alone in the
store earlier, he very much wanted to return to that solitude right now. It was
so much better than being the center of this man’s attention.
“How long have you worked here?” The strange man’s voice was soft
and low, rippling through the space between them.
Martin shivered and had to focus to keep his feet planted. “We’re
closing and—”
“Where’s Cass?” The man glanced over Martin’s shoulder, giving him
a moment to breathe.
“Cassidy? She went home.”
“What’s your name?” Those eyes were on Martin again in an instant,
making him light-headed.
“Martin.” Too late, he wondered if he shouldn’t have introduced himself,
particularly when the other man made no effort to return the favor.
“Well then, Martin.” The man took a step forward. “It appears no
one bothered to inform you—”
“I’ll call the owner.” Martin was losing ground and needed to fix
this quickly. Calling Mrs. Green to resolve a grumpy customer was absolutely a
bad idea, but he was on the verge of being run out of his own bookstore, so
there weren’t many options left.
To illustrate that point, the blond man’s eyes widened and his
lips formed into an ‘O’.
“No no. Please.” He held his hands wide, as his mouth pulled into
another grin. Everything about it made Martin want to shrink into himself until
he was nothing but a speck of dust on a bookshelf.
“I’m sorry,” he said, giving it one last go. “But we close at six
and—”
The man didn’t appear to hear him. He toed through the pile of
books at his feet.
Martin winced as pages bent under his shoes. “Please don’t—”
Thin fingers pinched the crumpled pages together and lifted them
in the air, the book’s heavy covers flopping to the sides. There was the soft
sound of paper tearing.
The man tucked the book under one arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.
I’ll pay for it.” He put a hand in one of his pockets, then actually swaggered
toward Martin, whose vision wavered as the man’s fingers brushed against his
own. Martin gasped at the hard weight of something metal in his palm. The
silence of the bookshop was broken by the sound of coins tumbling out of
Martin’s frozen hand and onto the floor.
“That should cover it.” The man whispered it low. The feeling of
his breath on Martin’s skin made him turn into a Martin-shaped statue, frozen
in place as the other man slid past him.
“Nice to meet you,” the man said. “I’m sure we’ll see each other
again.”
It felt like hours, but it probably was only a matter of seconds
before he trembled and broke out of his daze. The floorboards creaked as the
man walked away. Martin knelt and collected the coins he’d dropped. They were
all nickels and dimes, and they totaled up to just under two dollars.
A door closed and the shop fell quiet.
Martin wound his way back the way he’d come. Nerves boiled inside
him, and he hesitated around every blind corner between shelves, half expecting
the blond stranger to leap out at him like some deranged Jack in the Box. He
stumbled into the open space at the front.
He was alone.
Martin went to the door. It surprised him that the hinges hadn’t
made their booming wail as the man left.
His hand stopped as he reached for the deadbolt. It was still in
position. The door was locked.
Where had the man come from? And where had he gone?
Allison Temple has been
a writer since the second grade, when she wrote a short story about a girl and
her horse. Her grandmother typed it out for her and said she’s never seen so
many quotation marks from a seven-year-old before. Allison took that as a
challenge and has gone on to try to break her previous record in all her
subsequent works.
Allison lives in Toronto
with her very patient husband and the world’s neediest cat. She splits her free
time between writing, community theater stage management, and traveling
anywhere that has good wine. Tragically, this leaves no time to clean her house.
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