Hello, I’m Eli Lang. Welcome to the blog tour for my contemporary f/f romance, Skin Hunger. Join in on the discussion in the comments and have fun! Thanks for stopping by!
About Skin Hunger
Ava should be living her dream as the drummer for Escaping Indigo. The problem is, she’s secretly in love with her bandmate, Tuck. But he’s fallen for someone else. Being a drummer is still the best, but for Ava, every day is also a reminder of what she can’t have.
With her grandmother moving into assisted living, Ava figures it’s a good time to head home and help out. And if it lets her get some distance from Tuck and his girlfriend, all the better. But Ava hasn’t visited her family in years, and home isn’t really home anymore. Instead, it’s the place she’s been running from, full of memories of everything her parents wanted for her—and everything she didn’t want for herself.
But on the airplane, Ava meets Cara, and the two women feel an immediate connection. And when they bump into each other a second time, it seems like fate. Cara offers Ava something she’s never had—someone to love who loves her back. But to be with Cara, Ava may have to change her whole life around, and that’s something she’s not sure she’s ready for.
Escaping Indigo is a busy band, whether they’re playing edgy rock music in a darkened theater, touring the country together, or meeting up with other musicians at a summer festival. And they’re always writing new melodies, new riffs, and new lyrics to tell their stories.
Micah, a drummer, is hoping to leave the memories of his old band behind by going on tour with Escaping Indigo as a stagehand. But there he meets Bellamy, the lead singer, and he finds himself tangled in a romance that makes him face everything he’s lost.
Ava, drummer for Escaping Indigo, is hoping that time away from the band will give her a chance to sort through her complicated feelings for her best friend, who’s in love with someone else. But a chance meeting with a beautiful woman leads to an unexpected romance that makes Ava rethink her plans for her future.
From unrequited love to finding your way, old friendships to lost dreams, surprising secrets to unexpected encounters, Escaping Indigo has a song to suit.
About Eli Lang
Eli Lang is a writer and drummer. She has played in rock bands, worked on horse farms, and has had jobs in libraries, where she spent most of her time reading every book she could get her hands on. She can fold a nearly perfect paper crane and knows how to tune a snare drum. She still buys stuffed animals because she feels bad if they’re left alone in the store, believes cinnamon buns should always be eaten warm, can tell you more than you ever wanted to know about the tardigrade, and has a book collection that’s reaching frightening proportions. She lives in Arizona with far too many pets.
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To celebrate the release of Skin Hunger, one lucky winner will receive an e-copy of both Escaping Indigo, the first in the Escaping Indigo series, and Half, also by Eli Lang! Leave a comment with your contact info to enter the contest. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on November 18, 2017. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries. Thanks for following the tour, and don’t forget to leave your contact info!
I clenched my hand on the armrest. The fabric was rough and nubby beneath my palm, but thin enough that I briefly wondered if I’d tear it. There wasn’t even anything to be afraid of, and I kept trying to tell myself that, to use logic to get rid of the anxiety. But fear was an illogical thing. And squeezing an armrest to death would have more of an immediate effect on my fear than any reasoning ever would.
I thought about closing my eyes and pretending I was somewhere else, but I figured that would make it easier for me to picture something going horribly wrong. Better if I could see. At least it would give me the illusion of some control. I took a deep breath and wished, futilely and not for the first time that day, that I wasn’t alone. That Tuck, my best friend and the guitar player for our band, was here next to me, cracking jokes in an attempt to distract me. That Bellamy, our singer, and his boyfriend, Micah, were sitting in the seats in front of me, Bellamy’s voice drifting back while he worried about our instruments and equipment being handled correctly by the airline. I even missed Quinn, our sort-of manager, and his perpetual, overbearing protectiveness.
But instead I was by myself, flying somewhere I didn’t want to go, and scared before we’d even gotten off the ground.
I sighed and leaned my head back against the seat. Passengers were slowly making their way down the aisle still, bumping elbows and knees with bags that looked like they would never fit in the overhead compartments. No one had claimed either of the seats next to me yet—I’d snagged the window seat for myself, so I could see what was happening—and I hoped no one would. It’d be nice to stretch out, sleep a little, so that I wouldn’t be quite so groggy when we landed in the morning.
I changed my mind when a tall girl stopped at my row and casually hoisted her bag into the overhead compartment. She glanced down at me after she closed the latch, and smiled before she slid into the aisle seat.
I was staring, and probably being obvious enough that she’d notice, but I couldn’t stop. She wasn’t particularly striking. She wasn’t an average beauty queen. Her dark-blond hair was cut too short for that. It fluttered around her ears and her bangs drifted into her eyes. The length of it made her face appear almost too long, but not quite. Her makeup was heavy, dark, but it suited her, brought out the green in her eyes. There was something about the way she carried herself, though, that made me want to watch her move. She had an almost tomboy style going on, but she was elegant, graceful. She’d lifted her bag overhead like it was nothing, the slender lines of her wrists and arms delicate in their strength. Now she buckled her seat belt with the same smooth movement, her shoulders straight, fingers careful on the metal and cloth. Then she turned back to me. I was still staring, my brain screaming at me to look away. She brushed the hair out of her face with a flick of her finger, and I realized I must have been wrong before. They weren’t green, but blue—almost too pale but absolutely lovely.
“Hi,” I said stupidly. God, I couldn’t remember the last time this had happened to me, the last time I’d been completely stuck for words. I was objective. I didn’t get swoony over every attractive person I saw. Maybe it was because we were going to be stuck on an airplane together for six hours, but after that, we’d go our separate ways. Safe, or as near to safe as you could get.
She smiled back shyly. “Hi.”
Her voice was soft and sort of husky. She twisted toward me a bit in her seat, and the olive-green jacket she was wearing fell into perfect place. Even her clothes wanted to do the graceful thing. It was captivating. I hadn’t seen anything quite like her before.
Then I realized I wasn’t just staring, I was staring, and it was totally inappropriate and probably creeping her out. I wanted to say something, make that banal conversation you normally would when you were stuck next to a stranger, but I was too tired, my brain fried from the last few weeks of touring. Maybe it wouldn’t have helped anyway. Maybe she already thought I was a psycho with no self-control. I gave her a little nod instead, turned to gaze out the window, and tried to pretend that I wasn’t on the plane and this lovely girl wasn’t sitting two seats away.
My small show of boredom and indifference lasted right up until we were cruising down the runway. Everything was fine, fine, and I kept repeating that to myself like I could make the irrational part of my mind believe it. But when the plane tilted up, leaving the ground in that sudden way, letting loose that disturbing feeling of being completely untethered, I gasped. I had to keep staring out the window. If we were going to crash, I—perversely—wanted to see it coming. There was that idiotic imaginary control again, the idea that if I watched closely enough, nothing bad could happen. Or, if it did happen, I’d be able to do something about it.
A warm hand covered mine, thin fingers squeezing down, and any thoughts of watching for a crash flew right out of my head. I flinched and turned to the girl. She had her arm stretched out, and she was leaning over her own armrest so she could touch me.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, but I didn’t know what to say. My mouth was totally dry, with nerves from a host of different sources.
She gave me that same tiny smile as before, but this time it seemed more thoughtful than shy. “Sorry.” She started to move her hand away, moving back over the space that separated us. “You looked—”
The plane tilted the other way, and my heart leaped up until it was lodged somewhere just behind my tongue. I flipped my hand over, the movement desperate and completely unconscious, and grabbed at her retreating fingers. For a second, I felt the hesitation in her, the tension in her arm, as if she were trying to decide whether to pull away or not. But it was only for a moment, a short one. Then she did move, but it was to lean closer and to wrap her fingers around mine.
After another minute, the plane straightened out, and I could breathe more easily. I looked up at the girl. She was watching me, watching while I took deep breaths and tried to calm down, to slow my heartbeat, and when I met her eyes, I was embarrassed. My palm was sweaty and sticky against hers, and I knew I must look like a complete fool, panicking when no one else was, when there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I couldn’t help the fear, and I accepted it. Normally I was okay with it, because it was something that wasn’t pleasant or easy but simply was, and I could deal with that. But I didn’t want this girl to see me like that. I didn’t want to imagine anyone had seen me like that, but especially her, right now.