“I loved Ruthie. A little shy, a whole lot caring and a wee bit lost, she and her little dog Pookie have a daily routine that gets blown out of the water with the arrival of handsome, charismatic and charming Q in their lives. Also, this time around, Cupid has matured a bit, he has learned some lessons, which was what gave this book a completely different feel. The giggles, the heartache, all the feels were still there. But that ending … is EVERYTHING!” –M, Goodreads
“Loved being immersed in the world and with these characters once again. You have another winner on your hands here!” –ARC Reader
“Maybe Into the Quiet is what all sequels should be – a story that doesn’t waste time trying to recreate the magic of the first one but instead stands on its own.” –Goodreads reviewer
Cupid’s punishment is far from over, and the stakes are higher than ever.
When Aphrodite inflames her son’s heart for Ruthie – a sweet, vulnerable, married Worthy – Cupid’s divine duty sets him on a crash course with the matrimonial laws of mortals. And his problems don’t end there. Seeking relief from his crushing loneliness, Cupid unwittingly damages his relationship with Pan, his best friend and lifeline.
Meanwhile, high above the mortal realm, Aphrodite bargains away her own son’s freedom in a brazen scheme to impress her fiery lover.
Book 2 of the Cupid’s Fall series draws the tormented God of Love into the terrible quiet of a neglected marriage, a fractured friendship, and a mother’s treachery.
Recommend reading book 1 – FIRST QUIVER – prior to reading book 2.
Chapter 1: GODDESS
The second time Cupid’s heart revved up should have been easier, and in some ways, it was. He recognized the stabbing pain in his chest right away, and he had a general idea what was expected of him.
But Cupid wasn’t particularly eager to relive the Mia experience—except for that one exceptionally nice part just before he blurted out he loved her, realized her heart wasn’t echoing his love beat, and vomited up his dinner. Also troubling, this signal was sharper than the first. The gods weren’t messing around.
Cupid heaved his body off the barstool. His knees buckled from the alcohol swimming in his system—or perhaps from the grim understanding that his next trial was upon him—and he pitched forward. Pan thrust out his hand and steadied his best friend as he’d been doing in one way or another since Cupid fell to Earth twelve days ago.
“Easy,” Pan said, his voice taut with concern.
Cupid dragged in a deep yoga breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.” He sure hoped he sounded braver than he felt.
“Where’s your shirt?”
Cupid’s gaze dropped to his bare chest. Right. That pretty boy he’d been dancing with had tugged it off him. Cupid turned toward the dance floor, one giant, tangled organism pulsating under the purple lights. “It’s buried somewhere in that pile of bodies.”
Pan tapped his nose. Locating Cupid’s scent would pose no challenge for the demigod of the wild even in human form. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Cupid had nearly wrapped his head around the here-we-go-again when his shirt came flying at his face. Pan was not one to coddle.
“Lead on,” said Pan.
“You’re coming?”
“Of course. My ass is on the line, too, or have you forgotten already?” Truthfully, Cupid had been working quite hard to put Pan’s ass out of his mind.
“Fine. This way.” Off they went, Cupid’s relentless heart-compass guiding the way with Pan trailing tight on his heels. Judging by the intensity of the churning in his chest, whatever Cupid was meant to find was right here at Versailles.
So intent was Cupid on following his heart, he nearly crashed into a raised platform that placed a dancer’s gold-covered bulge exactly at eye level. An impressive set of white feathered wings fanned out from the dancer’s shoulders and somehow fluttered gracefully while the lower half of his body popped and gyrated at his audience.
Pan licked his lips and stared, mouth agape. “Wow.”
“He’s all yours,” Cupid replied. “He’s not my Worthy.”
But Cupid was close; he could feel it. The signal pulled him along the edge of the stage and into a flock of wild women, screaming and stuffing money into the dancer’s pouch. Not this one, nope, nope . . . boom! Cupid stopped short, and Pan—distracted by the slicked-up, writhing angel on the stage—slammed into Cupid’s back, ramming him into the new love of his life just as she was tucking a bill inside the dancer’s thong.
The woman grasped at the fabric to regain her balance, but the measly garment was no match for her downward velocity. The pouch gave way, spilling money and genitals before Cupid could manage to grab the falling woman around the waist. A collective gasp went up around them—with Pan’s enthusiastic, “Oh hell, yeah!” loudest of all—before the angel could tuck himself and his tips back inside.
“I’m so sorry,” Cupid said, relaxing his grip around the goddess in his arms as she regained her footing. “Are you okay?”
She blinked up at him with a shocked pair of hazel eyes set into a deep blush. “I . . . I honestly don’t know.” But Cupid knew. The woman’s racing pulse, dilated pupils, and dry mouth were dead giveaways, and he was feeling quite the same.
She shook her head, freeing a tendril of spun gold across her cheek. Without thinking, Cupid reached in and gingerly tucked the loose hair behind her ear. The two sets of eyes locked, and neither would let go, dazzle-ee meeting dazzle-er and vice versa. She melted his insides with every shaky breath passing between her lips.
“Take your time,” Cupid said, finding himself in no rush to go anywhere or do anything except exactly this.
Need poured off this woman in hot, dangerous waves—waves that had already pulled Cupid under. She raised her hand to wipe the beads of sweat from her brow. Two rings dwarfed her left hand: a diamond the size of a robin’s egg with a solid gold band below. Married.
“Hey, what’s—” Pan stopped cold. “Oh boy. Q, we need to talk. Now.”
“Call me,” Cupid answered Pan, barely registering his presence.
Fully prepared to sweep his precious love into his arms, carry her to bed, and pleasure her for the rest of his days, Cupid remembered his circumstances and the horrible ordeal he’d gone through with Mia. He couldn’t draw another breath until he knew the truth.
Summoning as much focus as he was able, Cupid tuned in to the chorus of hearts beating all around him. He peeled them away one by one until he had distilled his beloved’s from all the rest.
No echo.
Frantic, Cupid placed an ear to her chest and listened with all his might.
In that terrible moment, Cupid understood. The goddess in his grasp was not his Right Love after all; she was his next torment.
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