{"id":29793,"date":"2018-01-30T08:30:33","date_gmt":"2018-01-30T13:30:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/?p=29793"},"modified":"2018-01-25T12:01:34","modified_gmt":"2018-01-25T17:01:34","slug":"release-day-blast-with-excerpt-a-crack-in-everything-cracks-duet-book-one-by-l-h-cosway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/?p=29793","title":{"rendered":"Release Day Blast with Excerpt: A Crack in Everything (Cracks Duet Book One) by L.H. Cosway"},"content":{"rendered":"

A Crack in Everything<\/strong>
\n(Cracks Duet Book One)<\/h4>\n

by L.H. Cosway<\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Released January 30, 2018<\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Available now!<\/strong>
\nAmazon<\/a> | iBooks<\/a> | B&N<\/a> | Kobo<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blurb<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Life used to be simple.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was a city girl with humble dreams. Then Dylan O\u2019Dea broke into my flat, held me against the wall and told me to stay quiet.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was like in the movies, where the universe zeros in on a single scene. I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to change me.<\/span><\/p>\n

For Dylan, the sky was always falling. He showed me how our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right Probably. But we weren\u2019t typical. We both had our obsessions. Mine was growing things, Dylan\u2019s was scent. He taught me how to use my nose, and I introduced him to the magic of flowers.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had no idea that one day he\u2019d build an empire from what we started together. But before that, there was love and happiness, tragedy and epic heartbreak\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

My name is Evelyn Flynn and I\u2019m going to tell you about the crack in everything.<\/span><\/p>\n

*A Crack in Everything is Book #1 in L.H. Cosway\u2019s Cracks duet.*<\/span><\/p>\n

Find\u00a0A Crack in Everything<\/em> on GOODREADS<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Excerpt<\/strong><\/h4>\n

One<\/b><\/p>\n

Inner City Dublin, Ireland. 2006.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Waiting for a flower bud to open was one of my favourite things. <\/span><\/p>\n

It started out like a closed little pistachio. The next day its petals moved. The following day they spread. The day after that they spread a little bit more, and then finally the flower blossomed to its full potential.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was waiting for the buds on my pink hibiscus to open, but they still had a few days to go yet. I poured a little water into the pot with a plastic bottle then screwed the cap back on. I was just about to place it on the shelf when someone hammered on my door.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a panicked knock, one that demanded attention. In this neighbourhood, it didn\u2019t always bode well to open the door to knocking like this. I squinted through the peephole and recognised a boy I went to school with. His name was Dylan O\u2019Dea, or was it O\u2019Toole? Anyway, I was pretty sure he lived one or two floors below me here at St Mary\u2019s Villas.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t let the \u2018Villas\u2019 part fool you. There was nothing villa-like about this place. St Mary\u2019s War Bunker would\u2019ve been a more appropriate title. Everything was grey. The windows gave the barest minimum of light and every single flat smelled vaguely of mildew, no matter how much you cleaned or aired the place.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan looked sweaty and desperate, and there was something about his panicked gaze that had me unlocking my door for him. Before I even had the chance to say a word, he barrelled in and slammed the door shut behind him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell!\u201d I exclaimed, at once regretting my decision. I lived with my aunt Yvonne, but she was at work and wouldn\u2019t be home for hours.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan stared me dead in the eye, his chest heaving, and raised a finger to his mouth in the universal gesture of \u2018be quiet.\u2019 I closed my mouth and a second later noise sounded from outside. People banged on doors the same way Dylan had been banging on mine. Our eyes met again, and he must\u2019ve sensed I was going to say something because he came at me. He backed me up against the wall until his frame surrounded mine and his hand went to my mouth. I instantly struggled but then he whispered in my ear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, don\u2019t make any noise. Some people are after me. I just need to hide here for a few minutes and then I\u2019ll leave. I promise.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I glared at him and lifted my foot to stomp on his ankle. He swore under his breath but didn\u2019t loosen his hold.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you,\u201d I mumbled past his fingers. \u201cGet out!\u201d It sounded more like, \u201cFup Ooo. Et oot.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, Evelyn. I need your help.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My heart hammered. He knew my name. Although it wasn\u2019t so strange since most people knew each other\u2019s names around here. It just felt odd for him to address me so familiarly, because we\u2019d never spoken.<\/span><\/p>\n

The sincerity in his dark blue eyes made me pause in my struggle. We stared at each other for another long moment, and goosebumps claimed my skin. His chest was wide and solid, and he smelled like cloves.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf I lower my hand, do you promise not to scream?\u201d he asked very quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

I nodded slowly, and his hand left my mouth. \u201cWho\u2019s after you?\u201d I whispered, worried he\u2019d brought trouble to my door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA few lads from the McCarthy gang. They\u2019ve been trying to recruit me. I told Tommy McCarthy to go fuck off and now they want to give me a hiding.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShite,\u201d I breathed.<\/span><\/p>\n

The knocking came closer. Whoever it was reached the flat next to mine and hammered on the door. I held still, barely breathing. My eyes traced Dylan\u2019s face, his dark blue eyes, masculine jaw, and gruff expression. He wore grey jeans, black boots and a navy padded jacket. His sandy hair was somewhere in between blond and brown, and it had a slight curl to it. It was clipped short, so the curl didn\u2019t have much room to . . . be curly.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was very attractive, but that didn\u2019t take away from the fact that he\u2019d basically broken into my home. When my neighbour came out and started talking to the lads who were looking for Dylan, I whispered, \u201cWhy did you come here to hide?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He made a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowing in a way that made him look like a grumpy bear. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou could\u2019ve gone into any flat, why this one?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a beat of silece, then finally he whispered back, \u201cBecause you\u2019re the only person on this row who wouldn\u2019t feed me to the wolves.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I arched a brow. \u201cYou don\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

You don\u2019t know me.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Before he had a chance to reply, the banging started on my door. My chest seized, clutched by fear, because I knew the type of blokes who were out there. <\/span><\/p>\n

Poor. Hard. Brutal.<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, Dylan was on me again, his hand on my mouth, his body holding mine in place. This time I didn\u2019t struggle, instead I held still and stayed quiet. A shiver trickled down my spine at his closeness. I wasn\u2019t often this close to people I hardly knew.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnswer the bleedin\u2019 door,\u201d a male voice shouted. \u201cOr I\u2019ll knock it the fuck down.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe I should answer and tell them you\u2019re not here,\u201d I whispered against his fingers.<\/span><\/p>\n

He glanced down at me, probably because my lips were on his skin. He tilted his head, like he found it in some way interesting, then said, \u201cNo, they\u2019ll come in and ransack the place.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I let out an anxious breath. He was right. And I couldn\u2019t do that to Yvonne. I couldn\u2019t have her come home from her shift at the bar to a wrecked flat.<\/span><\/p>\n

More banging ensued. I startled when a head appeared at the window, though thankfully Yvonne\u2019s net curtains shielded us from view.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not in there,\u201d someone said. \u201cHe probably ran down to the Willows.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The Willows was a dilapidated block of flats about five minutes away. It was where people went to drink and do drugs. If you were homeless, it was where you went to sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d the same person said and the guy peering in the window disappeared. Dylan let go of me, took three strides across the room and looked out through the curtains.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re gone,\u201d he said and exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, now you should go, too,\u201d I said, on guard again. I felt on edge having a strange boy in my flat who I\u2019d never even spoken to before. Though \u2018boy\u2019 wasn\u2019t exactly the right term. Dylan was probably about a year older than me, eighteen maybe, but he was built like a man. Soon his shoulders would get even broader, his features more defined. He\u2019d be a sight to be reckoned with then, I was sure.<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned back to look at me, one eyebrow arching as he stared me down. He didn\u2019t do anything for a long moment and then his attention moved about the living room. His tension faded, and something like fondness, or maybe amusement, took its place.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBig fan of New York?\u201d he asked wryly, taking in all the posters and memorabilia.<\/span><\/p>\n

I cleared my throat. \u201cNo, my aunt Yvonne is. She saw <\/span>When Harry Met Sally<\/span><\/i> and became obsessed. She\u2019s saving up to move there in a couple years.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan\u2019s mouth formed an attractive, thoughtful line. \u201cAnd what about you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWill you go with her?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t think so. Probably not. My grandma lives in the retirement home in Broadstone. We\u2019re all she has. I couldn\u2019t leave her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan took this in, his dark eyes softening, then stepped to the front door. \u201cThanks for letting me hide here. I owe you one,\u201d he said, ducking his head to make sure the coast was clear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I said, not knowing what else to say.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked back at me one last time. \u201cSee ya, Evelyn.\u201d And then he was gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, but I\u2019d sell my own mother for a night with Jared Leto, no question,\u201d said Sam as we walked to English on Monday.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre we talking <\/span>30 Seconds to Mars<\/span><\/i> Jared Leto or <\/span>Jordan Catalano<\/span><\/i> Jared?\u201d I asked. \u201cBecause those are two entirely different kettles of fish.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c<\/span>30 Seconds<\/span><\/i>, of course. You know I can\u2019t resist a man in eyeliner,\u201d he said then winked. We reached our lockers when a familiar head of sandy brown hair emerged from the crowd.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan. <\/span><\/p>\n

He must\u2019ve sensed my attention, because his eyes flashed to mine. I sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of him. He had a purple bruise beneath one eye, and there were various other cuts and grazes all over his face. Jesus.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sam followed where I was looking and made a crass comment. \u201cLooks like Dylan O\u2019Dea likes it rough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

So it was O\u2019Dea. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think he got that beating on the streets, not in the sheets,\u201d I said, chewing worriedly on my lip. Those McCarthy fellas must\u2019ve caught up to him yesterday. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood one.\u201d Sam chuckled, but I didn\u2019t share his humour.<\/span><\/p>\n

A pang of concern hit me square in the chest and I moved toward him automatically, leaving Sam by his locker. Dylan saw me approach and stopped in place, his attention skittering over me. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and let out a gruff breath. \u201cWhat?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey got you, didn\u2019t they?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He shifted from foot to foot, seeming uncomfortable with my concern. \u201cNah, walked into a wall.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be cute.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Another sigh. \u201cYeah. They got me, blondie. Probably better to get it over with anyway. Now maybe they\u2019ll leave me alone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I nodded slowly, not sure how to react to his endearment. It wasn\u2019t very original, but it still made my breastplate tingle. \u201cYou think?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI hope, but who knows.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHave any teachers asked about your bruises?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He gave me an incredulous look. \u201cWhere do you think we are? Nobody gives a shit here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I hated that he was right. The teachers at this school were either too mean or too downtrodden to care about students\u2019 home lives. In a way, I didn\u2019t blame them. Even the nice teachers eventually got so sick of being bullied and verbally abused that they shut off all their emotions. This wasn\u2019t a soft place to grow up, but I liked to think I still had a heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t think before I said my next words. \u201cWell, <\/span>I <\/span><\/i>give a shit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I\u2019m not an unfeeling rock, that\u2019s why.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan stared off over my head and shoved his hands in his pockets. \u201cYou probably should be,\u201d he said, then walked by me and disappeared back into the crowd.<\/span><\/p>\n

Huh.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh <\/span>blondie<\/span><\/i>, get your bum over here,\u201d Sam crooned, and I turned back to my friend.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know you and Dylan O\u2019Dea were acquainted.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I frowned. \u201cWe\u2019re not. Not really.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He folded his arms and pursed his lips. \u201cSure sounded like you are.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe was being chased by some blokes who wanted to beat him yesterday and I let him hide in my flat. That\u2019s it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOooh, racy. Did he happen to hide in your bedroom by any chance? And did you share a sexy moment once the coast was clear? How did he express his gratitude?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Trust Sam to turn everything into some sort of risqu\u00e9 soap opera. Although thinking about it, the way Dylan held his hand over my mouth did give me a flutter in my belly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe told me he owed me one,\u201d I replied with a shrug. Sam\u2019s eyes glittered.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat means he owes you a good rogering.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSam!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be disgusting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNothing disgusting about sex with a fella like that, Ev. Besides, you need to lose that flower of yours before it shrivels up and dies.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I scrunched my face. \u201cPlease don\u2019t call it a flower. And anyway, I\u2019m not the only one who needs to lose it, so you can quit talking like you know it all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He gave me a sassy look. \u201cIf I were as straight and as pretty as you are, I\u2019d have lost it years ago. It\u2019s not exactly easy to find gays in this neck of the woods.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot easy to find gays who are out, you mean. Just wait for the next person who throws some homophobic slur at you and there\u2019s a good chance he\u2019s in the closet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm, I do get a hint of an angry sex vibe from Shane Huntley sometimes. Maybe you\u2019re onto something.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Speak of the devil. A few seconds after Sam mentioned him, Shane walked by with his ever-present posse of arseholes, usual sneer in place. I wondered why the meanest kids always seemed to have the most friends. I didn\u2019t have a mean bone in my body and the only real friend I had was Sam. Shane walked on, not acknowledging us aside from his sneering expression, and I turned to neaten up my locker.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI found a book on Freud in Yvonne\u2019s collection,\u201d I told him. \u201cHe had this theory that when we see the things we dislike in ourselves in others, we hate on it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm,\u201d said Sam. \u201cCould be some truth to it. But anyway, back to the luscious Mr O\u2019Dea, when are you going to cash in on that debt?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I chuckled. \u201cNot sure. Maybe the next time I need some help moving furniture. The boy\u2019s got some serious shoulders on him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll the better for throwing you around the bedroom with.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shot him an irritable glance. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to quit with this, are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His answering wink was pure devilment. \u201cNot in this lifetime, blondie.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Don’t miss Book Two – Releasing February 6, 2018!<\/strong><\/h4>\n

How the Light Gets In
\n<\/strong>(Cracks Duet Book Two)<\/h4>\n

by L.H. Cosway<\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Releasing February 6, 2018<\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pre-order today!
\nAmazon<\/a> |\u00a0iBooks<\/a>\u00a0| Nook<\/a> | Kobo<\/a><\/strong><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blurb<\/b><\/h4>\n

He came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven\u2019s Symphony no. 7.<\/span><\/p>\n

We parted amid tragedy, so it seemed poetic. Dylan O\u2019Dea, my childhood sweetheart, had once\u00a0<\/span>meant everything to me. Now we were strangers, and honestly, after eleven years I never thought\u00a0<\/span>I\u2019d see him again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I lived in the world of the average, of getting paid by the hour and budgeting to make ends meet. But\u00a0<\/span>Dylan, he lived in the world of wealth and success. He\u2019d achieved the great things I always suspected\u00a0<\/span>he would. The dissatisfaction he\u2019d felt as a teenager had obviously been an excellent motivator.<\/span><\/p>\n

He started a business from scratch, pioneered a brand, and created perfumes adored by women\u00a0<\/span>across the globe. I was just one of the people who\u2019d been there before. Now he was living his best\u00a0<\/span>life in the after.<\/span><\/p>\n

And me, well, I\u2019d been in a dark place for a while. Slowly but surely, I was letting the light back in, but there was something missing. I was an unfinished sentence with an ellipsis at the end. And maybe, if I was brave enough to take the chance, Dylan could be my happy ending.<\/span><\/p>\n

*How the Light Gets In is Book #2 and the concluding installment in L.H. Cosway\u2019s Cracks duet.*<\/span><\/p>\n

Find\u00a0How the Light Gets In<\/em> on GOODREADS<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

About the Author<\/strong><\/h4>\n

\"\"L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories. L.H. is represented by Louise Fury at The Bent Agency.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

FACEBOOK<\/a> | TWITTER<\/a> | INSTAGRAM<\/a> | WEBSITE<\/a> | <\/strong>PINTEREST<\/strong><\/a> <\/span><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A Crack in Everything (Cracks Duet Book One) by L.H. Cosway   Released January 30, 2018   Available now! Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo\u00a0     Blurb Life used to be simple. I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":26256,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[290],"tags":[721,90,348],"class_list":["post-29793","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-news","tag-cracks-duet","tag-l-h-cosway","tag-release-day-blitz"],"yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/LHC-Crack-in-Everything-Cover6x9_HIGH-1.jpg?fit=150%2C234&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7gaNL-7Kx","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29793","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29793"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29793\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/26256"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=29793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=29793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}