NEXT STOP, BOSTON by Iris Dorbian
I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the NEXT STOP, BOSTON by
Iris Dorbian Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About The Book:
Author: Iris Dorbian
Pub. Date: September 30, 2023
Publisher: Black Pawn Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 206
Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/NEXT-STOP-BOSTON
"This is a very entertaining
novel, with effortless writing, naturalistic dialogue, and a good dose of
humor. On the surface, it's a tale set in the glittering, frantic world of a
touring musical act. Dig deeper, however, and you'll find a story about flawed,
damaged characters searching for the light that will lead them out of the
darkness that has been created for, or by, themselves." - Wendy Lee,
author of The Art of Confidence, Across a Green Ocean, and Happy
Family (Booklist Top Ten First Novels of 2008).
Sixteen-year-old Geri Randall's life
is turned upside down when her late sister's fiance, Dez Deacon, a washed-up
rock star, is named her guardian. Whisked away from the only life she knew and
taken on a rock and roll tour, Geri is initially desperate to win Dez's
approval. That desire hits a sour note when Dez's treatment of her becomes too
much to bear. What ensues is a battle of wills between her and her
temperamental guardian, a collision course that will push Geri to do the
unthinkable to get what she wants.
Chapter One
Next Stop, Boston
Geri
April 2019
Her skinny fingers rippled across the strings. She
played a G chord, one of the few chords he’d taught her in between gigs.
She plucked it again, the twangy sound vibrating in her ears. It
was part of her nightly backstage ritual. Most important was polishing
and cleaning his guitar. He was persnickety in the way he liked it.
Lately, she had gotten the hang of it, but it had been rough going there
for a while, as he was never satisfied with anything he asked her to do.
Whether it was this task or another, she could never please him. Not
until recently.
She’d thought being on the road would be a lot more
fun. She didn’t hate it, but she didn’t relish it either. Time was a
blur; it was as if school and her other life never existed, with every
day seeming to stretch into an eternity.
She scanned the musty room, and when she was sure no
one was lurking, Geri picked up the Gibson again and pretended to play
the guitar like a rock god. Tossing her head back, she rolled her
right arm like a windmill and closed her eyes, faking the strumming
and picking motions.
It was dumb, childish as all hell. But, screw it. She
needed to let loose.
Of course, if he saw her doing this, she’d never hear
the end of it. “Gerrrrriiiiii!”
Fear gripped her.
Oh shit.
Immediately, she put the guitar down.
“Dez!” she yelled back, her lower lip trembling
slightly. “I’m in here. I’m in the dressing room.”
The door barged wide open as he blustered in. He sighed
loudly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snatched the guitar
away from her and started strumming.
“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly, her hazel eyes
bugging out. “I was just doing what you wanted me to do, what you told
me—”
“Shut up!”
Dez’s gaze meandered toward the ceiling as he played
the instrument, testing it before the sound check. His expression
fluctuated between pensive and poker-faced.
“Not bad,” he said, as he continued to strum. “Not bad
at all. Maybe you can actually do something.”
“Really?” She beamed, her smile radiating the heat of a
million suns.
She had been wary of him early on; now his approval was
all that mattered to her.
“Yeah.” He cocked his head, fixing his sapphire eyes on
her. “Really.” His lips curled into a reluctant grin.
Her luminous smile engulfed her oval face, giving her
peaches and cream complexion an almost Madonna-like glow. He rolled
his eyes, then placed the guitar back into the case before slamming it
shut. “Come here,” he commanded, in a tone not as harsh as before.
Unfolding his arms, he enveloped her so tightly neither of them could
breathe. “You stupid kid,” Dez mumbled as he stroked her hair, inhaling
the balsamic fragrance of the shampoo she’d used that morning. “I never
know what’s up with you.” Then he did something he never did: he kissed
the top of her strawberry blond hair, which she always clipped up in a
messy bun, making her look like a cross between a jailbait librarian and
an unkempt ballerina.
His lips on her head touched her like volts of
electricity. It felt like ages since anyone had kissed her. The sweetness
of that sensation encircled her in a ring of warmth that dissipated as
soon as he let go.
“You see how easy it is when you listen to me, Geri,”
he said, the sternness returning.
“I do, but sometimes,” she shook her head, “I get
confused.” “Because you don’t listen,” he shot back, a haughty
smirk shading his finely sculpted features.
She scratched her mouth. “Can I go back to the
hotel?” “No,” he snapped back, indignant. “You need to stay here.”
“But Dez—”
“What did I say? I’m not going to repeat myself.”
Maintaining his resolve, Dez crossed his arms. The sleeveless jean vest
he wore nicely accentuated his muscles. Those sinewy biceps always
distracted Geri, especially the tattoo that sported her sister’s name on
his upper left arm.
MICHELLE, 7/15/92–12/1/2018
Underneath her name and lifeline was a simple red rose.
Michelle had been Dez’s fiancée. If she hadn’t been killed in a car crash
in Milan, where she was modeling the latest Dior fashions, she and Dez
would have married last New Year’s Eve. Michelle had been in a car with
another model, Selene, on their way to the airport, when their driver had
been sideswiped by a drunken, middle-aged, off-duty police officer.
They’d all died instantly on impact.
Geri was going to be her maid of honor. Last summer,
while she was on her school break, Michelle had flown her to Paris for
a special fitting with Henri, the finest wedding couturier in the
business. Or so Michelle told her. She had modeled his designs in an
issue of French Vogue a year before and was so smitten with his work, his
name was the first that had popped into her head after Dez
proposed.
The wedding was going to be held in a private Swiss
chalet, a very small affair with a guest list that consisted of Dez’s
manager, Larry, acting as best man; Lanie, a model-turned-makeup-artist
who was a close friend of Michelle’s since their early go-see days;
and Geri.
She couldn’t believe it when Michelle had announced she
wanted her, not Lanie, as maid of honor.
“Me? You want me?” she’d cried.
“Of course! You’re my baby sister. Who else would I
pick? All we have is each other.”
Their bond, forged in DNA and loneliness, had been
an underlying theme in both of their lives.
Their father, Jack, had died of cancer when Michelle
was fifteen and Geri was five. Their mom, Lisa, had died four years later
of a stroke, although Michelle always insisted she’d died of a
broken heart, being that she and Jack had been as much in love when
he died as they had been when they’d first met at the University of
Colorado thirty years earlier.
Geri had been in the fourth grade at Grant Elementary
School in Boulder when she found out that Mom was never coming back
from the hospital. Michelle had flown to Boulder from New York City a
week before when Lisa’s health took a turn for the worse. She had been
waiting for her sister in the principal’s office.
“It’s just you and me now, kiddo,” Michelle told
her. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Their mom was an only child.
Both sets of grandparents had been dead for a long time. Jack did have a
younger brother, who, last anyone had heard, lived in Florida. They
hadn’t been in touch with him in so long, he might as well have been
dead.
Because Lisa had died in February and school wasn’t
over yet, Michelle had temporarily relocated from her Manhattan digs
where she’d been a rising, in-demand model to tend to her sister.
Her agency had almost dropped her until she’d reassured them she
would return to New York City once her sister was done with the school
year. Then Geri would move in with her and Michelle would enroll her in a
school conducive to her needs.
As Geri was dyslexic, she had attended a special school
for children with a myriad of learning and social disorders. It was
considered one of the best in Colorado, and in the country. That it was
close to the Boulder homestead made it even better.
Yet, as Michelle would tell Geri repeatedly, her sister
had made a promise to her dying mom that she would take care of Geri
and never abandon her.
“We’re in this together, you and me,” Michelle
reassured Geri on the flight that would whisk her away from Boulder
permanently to a new life in New York City.
Life had plodded along at a pleasant albeit unsurprising pace until Michelle met Dez. Then Geri’s life had imploded as the whirlwind courtship to end all courtships began, only to end in tragedy months later.
About Iris Dorbian:
Iris
Dorbian is an arts and business journalist whose bylines have appeared in a
wide array of outlets that include Forbes, Wall Street Journal, Reuters,
Crain's New York Business, Business Insider, Buyouts, Venture Capital Journal,
Investopedia, Playbill, Backstage, Dance Magazine, Theatermania and Stage
Directions, where she served as editor-in-chief for eight years. Her personal
essays have been featured in HBO's Inspiration Room, Boomer Magazine, Jewish
Literary Journal, Diverse Voices Quarterly, and Gothesque Magazine. Having
previously published "Great Producers: Visionaries of the American
Theater" (Allworth/Skyhorse) "An Epiphany in Lilacs: In the Aftermath
of the Camps" (original publisher: Mazo Publishers) and "Sentenced to
Shakespeare" (Sunbury/Milford House Prss), "Next Stop, Boston"
is her fourth book.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub
Giveaway Details:
1 winner
will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card, International.
Ends December 12th, midnight EST.
a Rafflecopter giveawayTour Schedule:
Week One:
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11/27/2023 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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11/28/2023 |
Excerpt |
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11/29/2023 |
Blog Spotlight/IG Post |
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11/30/2023 |
Excerpt |
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12/1/2023 |
IG Review |
Week Two:
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12/4/2023 |
Review/IG Post |
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12/5/2023 |
IG Review |
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12/6/2023 |
IG Review |
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12/7/2023 |
IG Review |
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12/8/2023 |
Excerpt |
Thank you for being a host on this blog tour of "Next Stop, Boston." Your support is greatly appreciated. Have a wonderful day and weekend! --Iris
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