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Monday, May 26, 2014

{Blog Tour} HIS TOUCH OF ICE by Kody Boye

Title: His Touch of Ice
Author: Kody Boye
Released: March 23, 2014
Genre: Paranormal | Erotica
Pages: 193 (Kindle)
Blurb: After being kicked out of college due to false claims of plagiarism, Jason's life has taken a turn for the worse. Swamped with student loans and unable to pay rent, he is literally at his wit's end when he meets Guy Winters. Everything about Guy is fascinating: his lifestyle, his appearance, his generosity. So when Jason faces potential homelessness, he agrees to move in, but it isn't long before he realizes that Guy seems different. He's vague about where he works, the temperature is always freezing in his home, and his touch renders Jason breathless beyond what any passion should.

After a home invasion leaves a man dead, a horrifying truth comes to life. Guy isn't human, and another of his kind is in Austin, leaving trail of bodies in its wake that frames both men for murder. With Jason’s fingerprints in the apartment and a gunshot that will have sent the police department scrambling, there's no time to explain. The only thing they can do is run.
GoodReads | Amazon

About the Author:

Born and raised in Southeastern Idaho, Kody Boye began his writing career with the publication of his story [A] Prom Queen’s Revenge at the age of fourteen. Published nearly three-dozen times before going independent at eighteen, Boye has authored numerous works—including the short story collection Amorous Things, the novella The Diary of Dakota Hammell, the zombie novel Sunrise and the epic fantasy series The Brotherhood Saga.

Kody is represented by Hannah Brown Gordon of the Foundry Literary + Media Agency.
You can find him here:

The jittering doorknob stirred me from sleep.
Splayed out along the couch with my head on a pillow and a thick wool blanket over me, I opened my eyes and to find it was almost dark and the rain had once again started up. My first inclination was that Guy was having trouble with his keys and had mistaken one for the other in the pale and somber light. Because of that, I rose and started crossing the distance between the door, head still fogged by sleep and legs struggling to maintain their balance.
“Guy?” I asked.
The doorknob stopped jittering.
I froze.
Something was wrong—very, very wrong.
The lock clicked out of place.
I lifted my head just in time to realize the bolt wasn’t done.
I slammed into the doorway the minute the door open, but I was instantaneously tossed away by the intruder’s brute strength. My back collided with the corner of the bar and I let out a stifled cry of pain as the shadowed figure entered the apartment.
His gun was drawn, pointed right at me.
“Not much you can do about a burglar when he’s got the master set,” the man said, clicking his tongue to the sound of the keys swaying in his hand. “Is there?”
I didn’t say anything. I was still struggling to take hold of my senses and block out the spiraling pain in the middle of my spine as he closed the door behind him, blocking out the sound of the traffic and rain.
“Now, listen here, rich boy,” the man said. “I want you to tell me where you keep your money—your cards, your cash, anything. And I want you to do it quickly, now, because I’m not stupid. I shoot, I don’t have time to look. So let’s make this easy… take me to the cash, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“I…” I managed. “I…”
The man flung himself toward me and shoved the gun under my chin. “I said—”
“Can’t… walk.”
“Well, then. Guess that sucks to be you.”
He yanked me to my feet and spun me around until the gun was pressed against the back of my neck, a cold hard cylinder through which one pull of the trigger could end my life. He didn’t need to repeat himself to let me know what he wanted. The problem was, I had no idea where Guy kept his money, if he kept it anywhere at all. His cards would be on him, his wallet and personal identification in his pocket, every internet account accessed through his phone and the keys to any safe on his keyring. Truth of the matter was: I was fucked. I just had to figure out how to bide my time to get the hell out of the situation.
“Well?” the man asked.
“Give me a minute,” I said.
He clocked me upside the head with the butt of his pistol and nearly sent me to my knees again. “You had a minute. Go. Now.”
I started toward the hallway that would lead to Guy’s room.
I closed my eyes, counting the seconds until he’d realize it was all just a big fucking joke.
Behind us, the door opened.
“Jason?” Guy asked.
“Look out!” I cried.
I hit the floor as the man spun to fire at Guy and rolled onto my back just in time to see Guy lunge. One arm flying up to deflect the gun, the other to smash the fat ring on his index finger into the burglar’s face, he slapped the weapon from the man’s hand before he could raise it to shoot again and lashed out with his one free hand.
His fingers snared around his throat.
The man’s eyes widened. “Wuh-wait,” he gasped. “I’m just getting paid to—”
A chill washed over the air.
The tiny globules of water dripping from the man’s raincoat crystalized before my eyes and shattered the moment they hit the carpet. His frantic legs kicking, his arms struggling to reach out and take hold of Guy, I watched in near-awe and horror as the skin upon his hands paled to a sheer gray, then as the tips of his fingers began to turn blue. Our breaths were but white shadows in the air and the man’s gurgling gasps were reduced to slight chortles as his body convulsed, then twice, before going still entirely.
In but a minute, it was over.
Guy dropped the assailant.
His head lolled about to face me.
His neck was a mass of swollen black tissue and his lips and skin the color of ice.
Trembling, the air about us returning to normal, Guy panted and took a deep breath before turning to look at me. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“You… you’re—”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Guy said, looking from me, to the corpse, the back again. “Oh God. Gawwdddddd.”
“You… you’re the one who—”
“We have to leave. Now.”
Guy hoisted me to my feet and began dragging me down the hall to his room. When he realized I’d been injured, he set me on the bed and began cycling through drawers, pulling from hidden compartments bundles of cash that numbered in the hundreds, possibly-thousands of bills, not to mention coins which appeared to have been smelted from real gold.
“We have to leave,” Guy said as he turned to face me, “because once they come in and find the body, they’re gonna think I’m the one who killed all those people.”
“What… what are you?” I managed.
“There’s no time, Jason. Please.”
I kept silent.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, falling to his knees before me. “Do you trust me, Jason?”
I looked out the open doorway, at the body of the man who no more than ten minutes ago had been completely intent on killing me.
I tilted my head down to stare at Guy’s face.
The rings around his eyes glowed with an illumination told only in legend.
“Yes,” I said, after a moment of startling realization. “I do.”
Truth was, I had no other option.
Without him, I was fucked.

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