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EXCLUSIVE: free sample and bonus scene posted below! Just scroll!

Currently, it's listed at a preorder sale price despite being much longer than Longwoods #1
so take advantage of the offer if you're interested because it may go up later.

To those who have read Bow-Tied (Longwoods #1), you kind of know what to expect but this novella is a completely different story (much more angst) although some characters from Bow-Tied will make an appearance
*cough Uncle Tasha cough cough*

I want to also take a moment to thank everyone who's read Heartless, Bow-Tied or any of my fanfics.
This past month, I saw a huge increase in readership,
here's a screenshot from Amazon reports to give you an idea... You all continue to amaze me!
I know most of you are interested in only Arshi stuff --and don't worry IPPKND readers, I'm not stopping fanfics *daydreaming about Omega* but it's nice to see so much love for Luca & Ash, Elena & Tasher, Lia & Aman etc.
I have so many stories in my head (and on my laptop lol) and hopefully, one day I can share them all.

By the way, anyone else feel a sudden gust of sandy air? Hear some horses stomp and neigh in the distance?
Well, that's expected because as I mentioned previously, Desert Heat is coming... and soon! My goal is for it be released next month and be free on Kindle Unlimited.

For now, here's a bit of what Leather-Strapped is all about... enjoy free sample and an exclusive bonus scene below


Bonus Scene

Alessandra’s Sixteenth Birthday
I turned sixteen on a cloudless, humid day in mid July, the middle of a week so no one noticed--or so I told myself.
My dad was out with his friends, working for a man who went by the name Boris. I had no idea what his last name was and neither did I want to know. It was easier to pretend my dad hadn’t sunk from one low to another, trading cheap plastic liquor bottles for more expensive ones and handguns--the kind I’d found scattered in the strangest locations around our apartment.
The few friends I’d made at school lived too far for any of them to want to come over for some box-cake mix and well, not much else. I tried to keep the apartment as clean as I could, but all it took was one of my dad’s moods to have it looking like it was: a dump.
The distinct smell of something burning curled beneath my nostrils and I yelped, shooting up to my feet. Throwing the oven door open, I coughed and wheezed, pulling out the cake I’d placed there forty minutes back.
It was ruined.
There was no other way to describe it. It was one horrible, charred mess--a monstrosity compared to the glowing picture on the box.
I let it rest on the counter, opening the windows to let the smoke out, and then carefully began sawing off the burnt bits with an old steak knife--the same one I’d once used to intimidate Grant. The memory made me smile and at the same time, long all the more for my best friend. My guardian angel.
Sweat beaded my brow and I knew that if someone had been around to celebrate my birthday, I would have asked for some relief from the heat wave gripping Chicago. Not even an AC unit. A hand fan would do, like those fancy ones I’d seen in Chinatown, dragons and orchids embroidered on rich, vibrant colors.
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it. His voice was embedded in my bones. I would recognize it anywhere. But he couldn’t be here. He was in Iowa, on some college campus far from the Draberly Apartments or the Drabs as everyone who lived within a ten-mile radius called them.
I rushed to the front door as fast as my feet could carry me. I wrenched it open and promptly forgot to breathe.
Because standing there was Grant.
My Grant.
My bestest friend in the whole wide world.
“Grant!” I threw myself into his arms and he laughed.
“I wondered if you were home when you didn’t answer. I hope you’re not back to not speaking with me, little one.”
I smacked his chest, releasing him. “Don’t call me that!”
He was all smiles and so was I. It felt so good to laugh, I’d almost forgotten how to without him around.
“Fine,” he said. “I won’t. At least not today. Happy birthday, Alessandra.”
“Thank you...” My voice trailed off and I could only stare at him. Gone were his tattered t-shirts and basketball shirts, Grant wore jeans and a nice black shirt, no holes visible. His face looked a bit older, more narrow and his body more muscled, but his smile--God, his smile---was the same. “You came? All the way from Iowa?”
“It’s not that far, Al. Come on, let’s get out of here before your dad gets back.” He helped me to lock up the apartment and curled his arm around my shoulder as we walked down the grimy hallway that smelled perpetually of cigarettes and cat litter. I blamed that on the couple in Apt 6B. They seemed to have a new stray every time I ran into them.
“How have you been?”
“Same.” I shrugged. My life had hardly changed. High school, at least for me, wasn’t all that much different from junior high. Just people were a bit taller and nastier--generally speaking.
“What about you? How did you get here?” I asked him. I didn’t care what he said, Iowa was far. To me, who’d never traveled beyond Chicago’s south side border, it was otherworldly.
“I had some time off. It was no big deal.”
Grant always did that. Always downplayed everything.
“Have you decided where you’ll be playing after college?” I was no expert by any means of the world of basketball, but through Grant I’d learned first-hand how hard it was to crack the elite bracket. Even with all his innate talent and my dad’s training, it had taken him a year to be accepted to any college team.
He’d played a few months for a school in Washington state before transferring to Iowa. He pushed open the old gate, allowing me to exit first. “It’s still early yet. You’ll be the first to know once it’s a done deal.”
I tried not to drown him with all my questions, but it was hard. Nearly six months had passed since I’d last seen him. Phone conversations had been long banned by my dad, but Grant wrote to me every couple of weeks, just to make sure I was doing okay.
Pigeon mail, he called it.
He winked at me. “To our favorite restaurant.”
I laughed, my hair flying all over the place thanks to the wind Chicago was infamous for. “Cluck’s?”
His smile widened. “The one and only. I brought some of my friends from school along. You’ll like them.”
I wanted to like them.
But I couldn’t seem too.
The two college boys I could have dealt with, but when Grant introduced me to the gorgeous redhead named Gillian, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
“This is Gillian, Al. My girlfriend.”
She shot me a smile that was as fake as her eyelashes and snuggled into Grant’s side to such an extent, she was basically half sitting on his lap. And Cluck’s booths had never been made for that. The wood screeched as if objecting. Grant set her off of him a tad and waved to someone behind the counter.
I felt my throat constrict as a two-tiered chocolate cake was set before me. Happy Sweet Sixteen, Alessandra, it said in pink piping.
Grant pulled out a lighter and a single candle from his pocket. His dark eyes met mine across the flame.
“Make a wish, birthday girl.”
As much as they all tried to make me admit what it was, I never told anyone. No one except the pages of my diary. It was there that I confessed that my wish had been for Grant to not leave me.
It was pathetic and childish.
But it was all I wanted, even if it meant Gillian and her fake lashes would stick around.
I didn’t like her, but I’d deal with it. I’d put up with anything as long as it meant he would be nearby.
Because Grant Alexander wasn’t just my best friend. He was also my biggest teenage crush.
My secret crush.
One that could never happen.
No matter how many times I wished for it, how many birthdays rolled by, he would never be mine.