He has far too much nerve. He can blow things up with his mind. He’s got anxiety. Yeah. The world should probably brace itself for this one.
Blurb
British superheroes, melodramatic Mages, snarky secret agents, one hell of a found family, and a whole load of weird people.
Also, there's a duck.
This is the painfully bizarre origin story of Rexley Nova.
When Rex was four years old, he became one of the world’s first superhumans.
When Rex turns twenty, he feels the drive to use his scientifically given abilities to protect the world. He leaves home to become a member of the Secret Superhero Security unit, alongside three of his friends and Danger City’s own superhero, Polaris.
Rex fights murderous Mages, evil organisations, criminal mafias, his agency appointed psychiatrist, his own anxious brain, and the most frightening of all, his attraction to a certain blue-eyed superhero.
Excerpt
“Come on, North,” I say, coaxing, spitting blood out of my mouth. “Don’t be nice.” I get as close as he’ll let me. “Treat me like you’re paying for it.”
Damon’s nose flares, and his lips curl to form a jagged snarl. His expression changing from robot to human in zero point five seconds flat. He makes a low sound that’s just the right side of threatening to be a problem for me. And not in the way it should be a problem for me.
Damon catches my arm at the right angle and twists me around so my back is pressed against his front. He wraps an arm securely around my waist, hauling me in even closer. A blaze of heat singes along my nerves when Damon runs his hand under my T-shirt, his fingers dragging over the hot skin of my belly. I try to kill it dead, the vulnerable quiver his intimate touch invokes, but that just makes it worse.
A full-on no-shit bonfire lights up inside my stomach. It sends a fucked-up message to my head, which in turn sends an even more fucked-up message to my cock. It’s like my body is playing telephone with itself.
You’re not supposed to want to get off with the bloke who’s making you bruise and bleed. Not without a serious discussion about it beforehand, anyway.
Pretty sure Damon and I aren’t going to be doing anything that sensible. Especially since the most sensible thing would be letting go and walking away before we can make this situation any worse.
Damon wraps his other hand around my throat, fingers digging in lightly, his thumb pressing against the edge of my jaw. He tilts my head to the side, exposing more of my throat to him. I resist the urge to lean my head back on his shoulder. Because I’m not mad.
My chest rapidly rises and falls as I struggle to breathe. It’s not really because of all the hits I’ve taken. I’m having more trouble dealing with Damon’s proximity than I am to what he’s done to me with his hands. A sign that maybe he was pulling some of his punches.
“You,” I say, barely getting the words out through all the tightness and the pain and the blood, “have got some serious control issues, North.” I shift against him, and he tightens his hold in response. I smile, oddly charmed by it.
“Might want—” Another few unsteady breaths. “—to see somebody about that.”
Damon feels like solid stone against my back, his body so tense I’m worried he might shatter if I tap the wrong spot too hard. As if in response to my thoughts, Damon’s arm around my waist changes from tight to crushing. His fingers press into my neck with clear intention. Not enough to choke. Just a reminder. Or a warning. A warning to be careful where I’m going with all of this.
My pale skin bruises easily. I can tell I’m going to have some on my throat. I don’t hate that idea like I should. And something about it being Damon who made them, whose fingers dug into my skin and left behind a mark, speaks to a primal part of my brain.
Damon’s mouth skates along my jaw, either by accident or on purpose, I’m not sure which. It doesn’t really matter. A short, bitten-off moan leaves my throat in a rush. I clamp my lips together to try to contain the rest of it. But it’s too late. Damon heard it. A shudder runs through him, a ripple of feeling and skin and warmth. An answering wave rolls through me, my body set to quaking.
I need to stop.
Damon bends his neck to speak directly into my ear. Our height and size difference aids him in making me feel completely taken over, enveloped, held in place, swallowed up and overwhelmed by my temporary loss of autonomy.
“Is this a game?” Damon asks, and he sounds, it beggars belief, genuinely upset by the idea.
About the Author
BL Jones is a twentysomething British author who spends all her free time reading and writing and taming her three little brothers. She lives in Bristol with a temperamental bunny named Pepsi. She’s been writing stories since she was five, rarely sharing them with anyone except her numerous stuffed animals. BL has had a difficult journey into discovering and accepting her own queerness, and therefore believes that positive, honest, and authentic stories about queer people are very important. She hopes to contribute her own stories for people to have fun with and enjoy.
Ah, I’m so terrible at this part. Talking about myself. I could ramble on for days about my characters. Myself? Not so much, ha!
Ok, so. Stuff. Here goes.
I live in England with my girlfriend/unofficial CEO and founding member of the BL fanclub/unpaid beta reader/incredible human being, and our moody little bunny called Pepsi.
I’ve been writing ever since I can remember. I was a bit of lonely kid, and I was really bad at. Like. People-ing. So instead, I made up stories where I could do anything and go anywhere and become anyone.
I realised it was more fun to create characters. To send them on adventures. To help them develop and fight their demons. To build friendships and find love in whatever form that may take.
My only real goal is to write books people will want to read and hopefully enjoy. It gives me a genuine buzz to be able to share my characters and stories with you all. There aren’t words to describe what it means to me that anyone would give their time to read my books.
How long have you been an author?
I’ve been writing ever since I can remember. There are probably notebooks somewhere full of my sparkly gel pen scrawl from when I was seven years old. I’ve always loved stories, both reading them and creating my own.
I fell in love with the freedom of writing fiction. I can create entire new worlds, full of characters who can be whoever I want them to be. In writing, the potential for surviving adversity and heartbreak and pain, for experiencing adventure and victory and hope, is truly without limit. That feels like a gift to me.
Tell us about your new release. What inspired you to write it?
Rex, my current MC, is a character I first created when I was about eight years old. So yeah, he’s been inside my head for a long time. I’ve written countless stories with Rex at the helm. He’s been everything-fairy tale prince, warrior hero, supernatural badass, rock star, snarky villain, best friend. Sparkly angel assassin in space.
I thought it was about time I gave him his official spotlight moment. I know it will sound a bit silly, but I wrote Rex as a hero, because to me, he really is. He got me through some difficult times in my life.
And I guess I’ve always thought the idea of superheroes was inherently very queer, like, just in general.
I also think there’s something very absurdly fun about people running around in costumes to fight crime, and I wanted to have my weird characters exist in that equally weird universe.
How did you decide on the title?
I think the title sums up my MC, and the Nova family, pretty well. In regards to Rex specifically, it has a couple of different meanings depending on where you’re at in his story/the series. Rex is an incredibly strong person, and passionate about the things and people he cares for. He’s a fighter who isn’t afraid of pushing back or standing his ground. He has a lot of grit, which is a good thing, because he really needs it throughout this series.
What are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
This is from later on in the Liquid Onyx series.
“I can feel Damon, the unrelenting heat of him. He burns. He burns so hot. My scar stopped hurting a long time ago, but I can still feel a twinge there, born of ingrained memory and unforgettable pain. He has all that blue light inside of him. Blue star fire, blazing like a flame, like a thousand different flames, scorching his blood and bones, singeing along his nerves.
When Damon knocks my hand away from his chest and cups my face with both of his, dragging me toward him and slanting his mouth over mine, that blistering heat transfers from him to me. It races along the skin of my jaw and neck and lips, spreading throughout my body with overwhelming speed and intensity.
It feels like. It feels. It feels. Like. Well. Not like anything else. Damon is touching me and it hurts and it burns and I never want him to stop doing it, not for anything. I want him to do more, touch me more, touch me all over, to push and press and roam until no corner or patch of skin is left unseared by his fingers and mouth.
Damon parts his lips and mine follow suit, opening up under his without any further prompting. I want him inside, in any way that can be allowed to happen. Damon doesn’t hesitate to snatch up my freely offered surrender.”
What is the hardest part of writing any book?
One of the hardest things I had to learn as an author was when to give a great idea the boot, for the sake of making the story better overall. If an idea, no matter how much you like it, isn’t jiving with the rest of the story, it has to go.
Do you have a favourite character and/or book you've written? Who, what and why?
I feel like I’m betraying my MC Rex by saying this, but I think my favourite character in this series is one of Rex’s friends. His name is Tate, and he’s partially based on a real mate of mine. Tate is a giant teddy-bear of pure sunshine who likes history facts, classic pop songs, fantasy books, white chocolate, and cuddles. He is also, doubtlessly, The Smart One of Rex’s group. Both academically and emotionally, he schools ‘em all. He’s the only one who knows how to people, is what I mean. I defy anyone to dislike this man.
Do characters and stories just pop into your head, or do you take your time thinking about and planning them?
The characters come first for me, pretty much always. I’m a character person at heart. For this series especially.
I’m more a planner than anything else. Mostly for the sake of motivation. I need to feel like my story is going somewhere or I’ll lose interest in writing it.
I do, however, leave myself space to make changes when necessary. Sometimes characters grow on you and become a bigger part of the story than anticipated. Other times, a plotline becomes too difficult to wrangle and needs to be cut to save the rest of the story.
It’s a bit like pulling weeds. They might look pretty on the surface, but they’ll destroy the underground of your garden if you let them.
If you could choose any superpower or magical ability, what would it be and why? What would you do with it?
I’d choose talking to animals, because I want to be friends with lions and cows and sharks. That’s it. That’s the reason. I want animal friends. I’m a simple person with slightly bizarre needs, ok.
What would I do with it? I don’t know, start an animal army and raze this world to ground in the name of reclaiming it for my animal pals, I guess.
Would I be a supervillain if I got super powers? Yes, yes I would. Without hesitation or much forethought, I would fling myself into quirky evildom.
If you could go anywhere in the world, all expenses paid, where would you go, who would you take with you, if anyone, and why?
I’ve always wanted to visit Iceland for some reason. I just think the views would be amazing. I’d take my girlfriend, because she’d never let me forget it if I didn’t, and our bunny, Pepsi, because that spiteful little fluffball would have chewed a hole through everything I own by the time I got back.
If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things (or people) would you want there with you?
The Doctor and the TARDIS to get us off the island, and my girlfriend, because she is better at convincing people to do things/kickboxing her way out of trouble.
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