Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon

It's been quite some time since I had a new release with Loose Id -- almost six months. I'm delighted to say Don't Look Back has just gone live. It's an m/m romantic suspense, but it's really more about needing to find your true identity before you can find true love.

Not to get overly dramatic here! It's also an entertaining and sexy little mystery, I hope.

Anyway, here's the blurb:

Author: Josh Lanyon
Price: $4.99
Genre: LGBT Suspense
Length: Novella

He was chuckling, a deep, sexy sound as he pushed Peter back on the satiny cushions. Was this for real? Was he going to go through with it? Peter blinked up as his tie was unfastened, tossed aside, his shirt unbuttoned, laid wide. The evening breeze -- scented of smog and jasmine -- felt cool against his overheated skin, like the lightest breath…

Peter Killian, curator at Constantine House in Los Angeles, wakes in the hospital to find himself accused of stealing a tenth century Chinese sculpture. Peter knows he’s not a thief -- but that’s all he knows. Why is hot and handsome Detective Mike Griffin so sure he’s guilty -- and so hell-bent on seeing Peter arrested?

And why is Peter having these weird dreams about an unseen lover who somehow reminds him uncomfortably of Michael Griffin?

And here's the excerpt:

Peter left his office and walked to the end of the short hall in time to see Detective Griffin crossing the main exhibit room. A group of special-ed students was touring the museum, and one of the boys was making loud bird sounds.

Griffin watched them without expression.

Peter said, “You’re here bright and early.”

The hard blue gaze turned his way like an artillery battery zeroing on a target. “I heard about your break-in.”

“And you think I faked it in order to throw suspicion off myself.”

Griffin laughed. Not only was his laugh unexpectedly appealing, something about it struck Peter as…familiar. “I admit it doesn’t really seem like your style.”

“What do you think my style is?” He threw that over his shoulder as he started to turn away, but his attention was caught by Griffin’s expression.

He hadn’t been sure before, but now -- something about that lazy, knowing appraisal -- he was certain Griffin was gay.

Griffin said, “I think you don’t like to take chances. I think you’re careful and that you think before you act. You’d know enough not to knock the glass out on the wrong side of the door.”

Peter grimaced. “I did knock the glass out, but it was an accident.”

They reached his office as Griffin responded, “Right. But I don’t think you have a lot of accidents. Which is why I have trouble with the scenario of you happening to walk down to the grotto at the exact moment thieves were yanking out that mural.”
“Coincidences happen.”

“Not to guys like you.”

“Careful. Thoughtful. Crooked.”

Griffin smiled that lazy smile again. “Anyway, that’s not why I dropped by.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I have news. Good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

Peter said honestly, “I don’t know if I can take bad news right now.”

Griffin gave him a long, unreadable look. “You have a partial alibi for the night of the robbery.”

Peter sagged back against the wall. “I do?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised I have an alibi. I’m surprised you bothered to look for it. I didn’t get the impression you had any interest in proving me innocent.”

“It’s not my job to prove anything. My job is to collect evidence and arrest the most likely suspect.”

“Which you’ve decided is me.”

Griffin stared at him for what seemed like a long time. “You think I’m being unfair to you? Trying to railroad you?”

He probably got excellent results with that intimidating stare. Peter refused to be intimidated. “I don’t know. You seem to have your mind made up about me.”

“I consider myself a pretty good judge of character.”

“And you think I’m a thief?”

He was surprised when Griffin didn’t immediately answer.

After a pause, Peter asked, “What’s my alibi?”

“You were at Griffith Park horseback riding with friends who you later went to dinner with at Viva Fresh Mexican restaurant. Apparently that’s how you spend all your Thursday evenings.” He managed to make it sound like the kind of lame-ass thing Peter would do.

The relief was considerable. Except…the look on Griffin’s face was not reassuring. In fact, if it weren’t so unbelievable, he’d have said Griffin looked slightly sorry for him.

He made himself ask. “So what’s the bad news?”

“Donald Herschel, a local pawnshop dealer, identified you as the man who’s been coming in for the past twelve months selling items that showed up on the police report you filed.”

A perfect and utter stillness gripped Peter. Somewhere, a long way off -- possibly in another lifetime -- he could hear that kid in the main exhibit room squawking like a frightened bird. Farther in the distance, a phone was ringing, muted and musical.

His lips felt stiff as he said, “It’s not true.”

Griffin simply looked at him.

Peter was shaking his head, denying it, denying the panic that was threatening to close him down. “There’s some mistake.”

“Maybe. He picked you out of a photo lineup, but we’d like to see how he does with the real thing.”

“The real thing,” Peter repeated numbly. “A-a lineup, you mean?”

“Right.”

He swallowed hard. His throat felt fossilized.

“At a police station.”

“Yep.”

Peter couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Griffin’s. He said finally, dully, “I need to get a lawyer, don’t I?”

Griffin eyed him dispassionately for what felt like a very long time. “Yes,” he said. “You do.”

Buy it here.