About Full Release
by Marshall Thornton
268 pages / 79000 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-197-5
Ebook zipped file contains -
html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub
Studio accountant, Matt Latowski orders an erotic massage on the
one-year anniversary of a bad break-up, but is surprised when the masseur
calls him a couple weeks later to ask him out on a date. Unable to say no to
a freebie, Matt begins a journey that eventually leads to his becoming a
murder suspect.
As the police close in on him, Matt is left with no choice but to turn the
tables and become an erotic masseur himself in order to find the murderer.
Along the way he meets Detective Aaron Tripp. Sparks fly as Matt wonders
whether the detective might be the murderer, or worse, the murderer’s next
victim?
Review
Jane Davitt, author of Hourglass, writes: It might seem that a romance
and a murder don't fit well together, but in fact they're one of my favorite
types of book. There's something extra thrilling about falling for someone
when it's hard to know who to trust and your life might be in danger. 'Full
Release' by Marshall Thornton is a perfect example of how to marry the two
themes and I confess without shame that I didn't figure out whodunnit until
it was revealed. At which point I nodded wisely and murmured 'Ah!' to
myself.
The story is told from Matt's perspective and he's thrown into a situation
that seems to get worse with every turn of the page through no fault of his
own. I liked the realistic way he dealt with it. He didn't do anything that
required ninja skills or the ability to pick locks, speak a dozen languages,
and hack any computer, but he was still remarkably effective as he puzzled
his way out of the maze in which he found himself.
Of course, he needed help, and the book has many engaging secondary
characters -- and many whose sleaziness is depicted with a delightfully
acerbic touch. Matt's love life is complicated and some of his varied
encounters are very funny as well as hot. Detective Aaron Tripp is a great
foil for Matt, the professional who has access to sources Matt doesn't --
but Matt's holding more than a few aces himself. I liked how the attraction
between the two was handled and there were some intense scenes with the two
of them.
I read this in a sitting, totally captivated and entertained. A good
mystery, an intriguing romance, and a hero I liked a lot.
Sample
Eddie gave me his crooked smile, except this time it
was different. It was shy, almost nervous. Like he was afraid I wouldn’t
even let him in. He looked pretty much the same. Maybe a little tired. He
wore a tight pair of Levi’s and a thin brown turtle neck sweater. He hadn’t
shaved and the dark stubble made him sexier.
“You gonna invite me in?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, quickly stepping out of his way. “Come on in, please.”
He set the table and his bag near the front door, then grabbed my collar and
pulled me down for a quick friendly kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth
and explored. I allowed myself to enjoy this for a moment then pushed him
away. A date should have some kind of other activity before the sex starts.
As I led him into the house, he hooked a finger into my belt loop. I glanced
back at him and laughed.
“You’re nervous,” he said. “So am I.”
He didn’t seem nervous. In fact, he seemed completely in control. But why
would he feel like he was in control? This wasn’t--Wait, I was over-thinking
this, just like Peter said. I needed to relax and go with it.
“How about some wine?” I asked.
“Yum.”
I pulled together the bottle of wine, a corkscrew and a couple glasses.
Eddie was inches away as I did. I led him into the living room. Aside from
the disruption of the construction, the room looked pretty much as it had
since Jeremy and I moved in. Early on we’d spent an entire day on furniture
row in West L.A. in order to find the least expensive, most comfortable
black leather sofa the city had to offer. I complemented the sofa with a
couple of wooden, vaguely Chinese chairs I’d found at an import shop for a
very low price. Beneath, the chairs and the sofa was an area rug with a
geometric pattern. A glass coffee table and two Jackson Pollack prints on
the walls finished off the room. Trespassing slightly into the room was a
Danish modern dining table found at a garage sale. Jeremy and I had spent an
entire weekend recovering the chairs (with a fair amount of fighting) in a
pattern similar to the living room’s area rug.
"What happened to your kitchen?" Eddie asked, as I opened the wine.
Nervously, I dumped out the story of my thieving ex. I knew better than talk
about Jeremy, and not just because I’d just read it on the Internet, I’d
watched as previous dates had mentally stamped BAGGAGE across my forehead in
big red letters. Strangely, Eddie didn’t seem to care.
When I finished my story of woe, he said, "Wow, that sucks." Then he licked
his lips.
I focused enough to say, "Yeah, it does."
There was an awkward silence. I remembered to maintain eye contact. His eyes
were a pretty blue. A pretty blue distracting enough that I couldn’t think
of a single question to ask him. Finally, he said, "You’re staring."
"Oh sorry," I said, looking away.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
I did. But not yet. I changed the subject by asking the first question that
popped into my head. "So, why did you call me? Honestly."
"Necessity," he said. "Some times I need to see someone who’s not going to
pay me. It keeps me honest." Then he smiled. "Don’t worry. I won’t go all
Glenn Close on you."
I laughed at his joke, something the Internet had recommended. My laugh was
a little strangled though. I hadn’t been worried about him getting stalker-ish
until he’d said that. Should I worry? Oh, God, I should worry. To cover my
discomfort, I went into what remained of the kitchen and sent our dinners
for their final spin round the microwave. Eddie followed me like I had him
on a tether.
“Sixty more seconds,” I said as I hit start on the microwave.
“What can we do for sixty seconds?” He asked. “Oh, I know.”
He pulled me into a kiss. I was a sweet kiss, made sexy by the stubble
roughing up my face. I was hard by the time the microwave beeped. We took
our plates over to the table and sat down. He sat next to me and rested his
left hand on my thigh.
As we ate we chatted about the food, which wasn’t great but Eddie pretended
it was. I tried to find out more about him but he wouldn’t say much. Grew up
in the valley. Left home early, possibly under less than ideal
circumstances. When I tried to get specifics he turned the conversation back
to me, and my life.
Over the course of the evening, he found out a lot about me.
"What made you become a masseur?" I asked after I took the dishes into the
kitchen and set them on the standing butcher’s block that was my only
counter. I’d leave them there until I got around to washing them in the
bathroom sink.
He answered with a question. "What made you become an accountant?"
"I like numbers."
Eddie flashed his pretty eyes at me and said, "I like men." He’d been making
that obvious since I answered the door.
"I’ll bet there’s more to it than that."
"There is," he said simply but didn’t elaborate. He changed the subject
slightly by saying, "I see all sorts of men. Important men. Successful men.
Rich men. But when they climb on my table they’re all the same. Naked.
Vulnerable. Needing the...relief I have to offer."
"So you’re a humanitarian?" I suggested.
"Something like that," he said.
"You must have your share of bad experiences."
He didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled and kissed me again. "Let’s go play."