Title: The Deep of the Sound
Cal McCorkle has lived in Bluewater Bay his whole life. He works two jobs to support a brother with a laundry list of psychiatric diagnoses and a great uncle with Alzheimer’s, and his personal life amounts to impersonal hookups with his boss. He’s got no time, no ambition, and no hope. All he has is family, and they’re killing him one responsibility at a time.
Avery Kennedy left Los Angeles, his family, and his sleazy boyfriend to attend a Wolf’s Landing convention, and he has no plans to return. But when he finds himself broke and car-less in Bluewater Bay, he’s worried he’ll have to slink home with his tail between his legs. Then Cal McCorkle rides to his rescue, and his urge to run away dies a quick death.
Avery may seem helpless at first, but he can charm Cal’s fractious brother, so Cal can pretty much forgive him anything. Even being adorkable. And giving him hope. But Cal can only promise Avery “until we can’t”—and the cost of changing that to “until forever” might be too high, however much they both want it.
Author: Amy Lane
Other books by this author that we've reviewed: Amy Lane, Lights, Camera, Cupid, Christmas Kitsch, Selfie
Series: Bluewater Bay #8
Other books in this series that we've reviewed: Starstruck, Hell On Wheels, Lone Wolf, The Burnt Toast B&B
Published: June 15, 2015
Genres: Male Male Romance
See the title at Goodreads
Purchase your copy: Amazon
Visit the Author's Website
I do love visiting Bluewater Bay with each new author that contributes to this amazing series. This author did an especially good job of mentioning almost all of the characters from the previous stories. It is not necessary to have read them to enjoy this book, however. This author also did an excellent job writing this so it would read well as a stand-alone story. That being said, I am just so in love with every one of these stories, that I would recommend any of them. But I may be a bit prejudice! I so want to live in Bluewater Bay, and not because they are filming Wolf’s Landing there. I love that part of the country. The community that each author has so lovingly created sounds like a really neat place to live. And the people who live there – well I want to be friends with all of them.
I am simply floored each time a different author introduces another couple in this community. They are each so different and came to be there for different reasons, whether they are local or came because of the TV show, but they fit so seamlessly into this quaint community.
The Deep of the Sound shows us just how close to the fantastic Puget Sound Bluewater Bay is. This story features an honest to goodness fisherman, Cal McCorkle. He has only one small boat, and barely makes enough to feed his family, but he gets up before the sun and goes fishing, selling his catch to the local hotel. I have been to Pike Place Market and watched them throwing the fish around, and I have met a couple fishermen – though they went on the big fishing ships out of Alaska. But I can’t say I knew any one man boats that actually used a net and hand sorted his catch in the effort to only sell legal fish. I personally found it fascinating to share this experience with Cal.
Avery seemed to enjoy it too. It helped him have a better understanding of who Cal was and what he was all about. I rather liked Avery. I could identify with him in many ways. I got to discover the beautiful Pacific Northwest in somewhat the same way he did. Though I must admit, he did have a couple more adventures than I did in getting there. But, I think that is why I like this series as much as I do. Not only are the characters fun and interesting, but the authors incorporate the location in the story. I love it.
I was a bit disappointed that Avery didn’t press charges – I so would have – but in the long run, he had so much more going for him that he was right now to. He remained true to himself and retained his “honor.” I thought that was actually rather cool when it was all said and done.
Avery and Cal developed a lovely romance. The author did a very nice job developing these characters, giving each of them very different, but equally traumatic, challenges to overcome before they could have their happy ever after. This couple spent a bit of time just talking and getting know one another, supporting each other in some of their daily life drama. It made for a nicely paced, enjoyable story.
If you haven’t visited yet, you really should check out Bluewater Bay. The Deep of the Sound would be a nice place to start.
Amy’s Adventures in the Pacific Northwest—Part 5
Road Trip By Amy Lane
It’s funny. In all of those years vacationing with my parents in Brother Bus—which did not look like the world’s most reliable vehicle—I don’t remember ever breaking down. We came close to overheating a couple of times, and had to stop at a gas station and let the poor guy cool off, but there was never any cases of Bus-Not-Go. And in spite of my dad’s tendency to push things to their utmost limits (including his family’s patience with things like rest rooms and “I’m gonna puke if you keep taking curves like that”) I don’t remember running out of gas, either.
But as an adult, I’ve broken down plenty of times, and the results have always been frightening. There is something unutterably helpless about being on a freeway with a car that won’t go, or being stuck in a strange place without a way to get out. Especially as a woman, I think—because yes, we’ve all had the self-defense classes that start with, “Never be helpless next to your defunct car in a strange place.”
Which means that being on a stretch of road over seventy miles wrong with no gas stations is a terrifying proposition.
About a year ago, Dreamspinner Press was holding a conference in Portland, and Julianne Bentley, Ginnifer Eastwick and I decided to take a road trip from San Francisco (where Gin’s plane from Germany would arrive) up along the California coast, and then cutting inland from Crescent City to Portland. I’d been on this road a few times in my life (and have the blog tour to prove it!) and I can tell you that the California coastline is gorgeous, simply gorgeous. Our trip up the first day was lovely. We stood on poetic cliffs and took beautiful, happy pictures. The next day, we made a stop at Glass Beach, which is sort of what happens when Mother Nature gets hold of our trash pile and makes something useful out of it. That morning we spent there was enchanting—we sorted through surf sanded pebbles of glass, looked at the oxidized form of an old tractor, generally appreciated the tide pools and the surf. But we had to be in Oregon the next day, so we made our way to Crescent City, where we stopped for dinner and then?
A classic blunder.
See, there used to be gas stations on the road between Crescent City and Medford Oregon—in physical fact, there are still gas stations on this road, but none of them are operating anymore. And Julianne, when asked if she wanted to fill up now, said, “Well, why? I’ve got half a tank left?”
A half a tank looks great at six o’clock on a summer evening, when the sun is still up and you’ve just had an awesome hamburger for dinner. About three hours later, when you’re winding your way between trees on a black road underneath a sky so bright with stars you wonder if you’re on another planet?
That eighth of a tank you have left is bloody fucking terrifying.
The stretch of highway between Crescent City and Medford really does have the potential to be the scariest road on creation—at least for suburban dwellers such as we were. No lights. There were no lights on that road. Not just “no light pollution”—quite simply, no lights. And just when you got used to the idea that all the world was darkness, and your eyes could adjust to the infinite and shadowed black, you’d catch a glimpse of a three-hundred foot redwood tree stretched up against that carpet of stars and your world would truly turn upside down. The sky would open at your feet and you’d realize how close you were to falling in.
The three women in the small car took driving this road in the dark with a depleting gas tank with varying stages of aplomb.
Gin is a practical girl. She’s the wife of an engineer, the daughter of an engineer, has been a schoolteacher and is Canadian by birth. She’s not inclined to panic and hysterics are not in her vocabulary. She was very cool and collected as she assured Julianne and I that the car had more than enough gas to get to Medford, and we could relax because there would be no need to stop in this deserted coal-black wilderness to discover resources within ourselves that we weren’t sure existed.
I’m fairly practical myself—but I’m also a worst-case scenario thinker, because it comforts me to assess a situation and figure out how I’m going to make it through. I figured that, worst-case scenario, the car would run out of gas, we’d spend a reasonably uncomfortable night sleeping in it, and someone would be along to help us get gas in the morning.
Julianne was on the other extreme. As we drove along this dark corridor of imagination, she was already making a barter with the gods—which one of us was going to be murdered, which one of us was going to be maimed, and which one of us was going to have to endure the touch of monster or man to barter our way out of horrific otherworldly bondage.
Her agitation was made painfully apparent when we passed a sign indicating a side road.
“What?” she snapped. “What was that street name?”
I didn’t want to tell her. “Uh, Butcher’s Knife?” I mumbled.
“Who does that? WHY would you name a street that? What in the hell were they thinking?!!!”
Gin and I did have to admit—it gave a particularly noir-ish feel to the whole experience, that was for sure.
We did of course make it to Medford—with probably another twenty miles to spare in the tank. But when you’re writing a book from the brightly lit sanctuary of your kitchen table, and you have a young man venturing on a road trip to Washington from L.A., you sort of have to wonder. What would have happened if we’d run out of gas?
Well, Avery finds out. Let’s just say that since I’m the one writing the book, he did not get violated, maimed, or murdered—but he did get to pee in the woods, and that was scary too.
Amy Lane exists happily with her noisy family in a crumbling suburban crapmansion, and equally happily with the surprisingly demanding voices who live in her head.
She loves cats, movies, yarn, pretty colors, pretty men, shiny things, and Twu Wuv, and despises house cleaning, low fat granola bars, and vainglorious prickweenies.
She can be found at her computer, dodging housework, or simultaneously reading, watching television, and knitting, because she likes to freak people out by proving it can be done.
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Facebook group: Amy Lane Anonymous