Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::

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Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::

Book Info

Title: Neon Saturday Night

Author: Julia McBryant

Series: Low Country Lovers

Publisher: Self Published

Published: 23 September 2019

Cover Design: Lee Quill

Length: 15,275 words

Keywords : Contemporary, New Adult, Erotic Romance, Erotica, Gaylit, beach romance, bodyguard/guardian angel, coming of age, forbidden love, healing power of sex, hurt/comfort, love can heal/redemption, true love, uncommunicative masculinity,

Add To: Goodreads | BookBub

Warnings: descriptions of past child abuse, depictions of past violence

Purchase Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Book

Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::


Audie and Calhoun continue their long-distance relationship through college. They sneak off to Myrtle Beach. Audie drives to Charleston when Calhoun gets the flu.

They meet for a fake fishing trip on the Outer Banks. But Audie needs to belong, and because of his traumatic past, he feels like he has little to offer in a committed relationship. While he and Calhoun have fun together, they also have a difficult time negotiating Audie’s need to give as much as he takes and build an authentic relationship together.

Calhoun says his job is to learn to be loved. But Audie wants to be more than a fun top and a tragic boyfriend.


Series Blurb

The Southern Seduction series chronicles the interconnected lives of a group of well-off, high society young adults in Savannah, Georgia, most of whom have known each other since kindergarten. Their complicated relationships (and unconventional sexcapades) form the meat of the series, along with a careful attention to chronology, character, and prose. More than romantic erotica, the Southern Seduction series details a fully realized world of drama, theme, and most of all, memorable characters.

Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::

Exclusive Guest Post

  1. I have/will be getting any day now Calhoun Chatterton’s tattoo on my wrist. It means a lot to me personally, and having Calhoun get it was sort of the impetus I needed to get the ink. I want to get Audie’s on the bottom of my left inner calf, just above my ankle.


  1. I first went to Myrtle Beach, like Audie, with a friend who swore that since I’d never been there, I absolutely had to go. I saw a piercing studio with a Confederate flag bikini hanging in the front, looked at my friend Smith, and said, “I’ve run out of blasphemy, baby.”



  1. I worked at that enormous purple hotel at the end of the strip, which shall remain nameless. They’ve tamed the color, but that baby used to light up fuck-me-purple at night, and it was glorious.


  1. Myrtle Beach really does have the highest concentration of putt-putt per square mile of anywhere on earth, and it’s spectacular, unless you’re Audie. The Kurt Russell god is 100% REAL. The owners of that place do not endorse this novel. They do not endorse me. I do not endorse them but you should totally go there for the wall art alone. Like Audie, I stole a golf ball. I still have it in my kitchen and look upon it fondly.



  1. I wrote “The Sharks Create the Ocean” while I was staying in Nag’s Head, NC. That’s why the road names, the pier, etc. are all so accurate. I didn’t have to think about it.


  1. My husband had to detail all the fishing information for me, which he found hilarious. He said it was the equivalent of him being grateful for me telling him the word for “horse chair” was saddle. But yeah, WTF is bucktail? Cut bait? Spanish mackerel are ugly creatures. I had to ask what the hell a sand spike was called. The only reason they drink Modelo: my husband drinks Modelo. And every morning on Nag’s Head, there’s always guys on the beach fishing who have clearly been drinking beer and fishing all day.



  1. If you walk up and down the beach at Nag’s Head in the afternoon, some bastard’s always blaring Sublime’s “Santeria” or “What I Got”  on the radio. Audie would call them “the songs playing when the pledges get alcohol poisoning.” I tried desperately to work that in there and couldn’t manage it.


  1. We plotted half this story on the beach when the kids and everyone else was out of earshot, in pieces. My husband’s never helped me as much which another one. He’s the one that came up with the Johnny Cash line. But the Whitesnake was all mine. I love Jax so much.



  1. The reference to playing NIN while Henry and Jax do it is actually longstanding in my universe: it comes up in Wills’s and Crispin’s novel, I think, when Crispin complains about it. I wrote that before this. I feel like that’s the kind of dick move Wills would manufacture to get back at his brother, and Crispin would just sort of go along with it, and that the songs Calhoun plays (“Staf*ckers, Inc” and “Closer”) would have been Wills’s choices, along with “Head Like a Hole”.


  1. I have literally never written a story in which no one has actual, man-on-man sex. “Here We Fucking Are” was a first for me, and I still worry about that one, because it’s more of a meditation on love and how love works and actual romance than real erotic romance. Even if Audie does get off. Twice.
Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::


 “You know what it means to be hurt,” Jax says finally. “I don’t know what hurt you, not really. Same’s I talked around it and didn’t tell you all of it, not the whole truth or the real part of it. But you know. You saw it right away and so did I. Henry and Calhoun don’t know what that means. That’s why they can try to put us back together and maybe it’ll work and maybe it won’t.”

“I’m afraid of sharks,” Audie says suddenly. He can’t hold it suddenly, can’t stop it. “But I’m really just afraid of the ocean and I swore I’d never get in it again.”

Jax cocks his head at him. “Someone did something to you.”

Audie tells him about his father and the pontoon boat in the Charleston harbor, about being eleven years and told to swim, just swim to his daddy and they could go home, about the four hours of sheer terror, the thirst and his father’s laughter. ‘

“You’d get in, if you made that go away,” Jax says.

“I can’t.”

“You can. And you need to tell Calhoun this story.”

“I’m not telling Calhoun this. I never should have told you.” Audie casts again. He tosses an empty back up above the high tide line.

“Henry taught me I owe him the truth.”

“I told him the truth. I have a shark phobia.”

“You didn’t tell him shit and we both know it, Currell. Same’s I told Henry I slept around. I told him something. I never told him why. Never told anyone why.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Jax looks over the horizon and squints into the sun. “I was fucking lonely, Audie, the hell do you think?” He straightens up. “How deep will you go?”

“My knees.”

“Go out to your thighs. I’ll go with you.”


“I’m not your father and you’re not eleven. Do you trust me enough to tell me that fucking story?”

Audie hesitates. “Yes.”

“Did I trust you enough to tell you why I slept around?”

Audie stares at the vast expanse of water and wonders at its secrets. “Yes.”

“Then trust me enough not to get your ass eaten. I’ll go ahead of you so you know there’s nothing there.”

Audie begins shaking. But he looks at Jax and realizes that he’s right, for some goddamn reason he does trust him. Jax takes his hand. It’s not sexual; it’s not the way you hold the hand of a lover. More the way you’d lead a blind man, or the way Audie imagines a preacher leading someone down into a river. But Jax holds Audie’s hard firmly and takes him into the water, one step at a time. Audie looks down anxiously, watches his feet. Jax suddenly laughs and points. “See the teensy ray?” he asks, the water at their knees. “Like a little pancake.” And it is, small and gray. They keep going until they stand up to their waists when the waves come in. “You’re safe,” Jax says. “Look how clear the water is.”

Audie stops. Turns. He can see in every direction. He looks. There are no sharks. None that he can see. He knows there are sharks, knows it in his bones: this is Nag’s Head, the Carolina coast, sharks up and down it, black-tips and makos, duskies and sand tigers. But the sharks are far away, and the chances of them hurting him so small. He stands and dives. Stands. Dives again. Suddenly he’s swimming, swimming strong, the way he learned as a boy in the Low Country, in the creeks and estuaries of the Cooper River. Jax swims next to him. Audie flips, backflips. He rides the waves and swims under them, a part of this vast, mysterious thing, just one more creature in this strange universe governed by the pull of the moon. A world of undrinkable water, of whalesong, of menace and beauty, crashing whitecaps and glass-calm. Jax doesn’t leave him alone. They finally swim back to shore.

“You aren’t eleven anymore,” he says quietly.

“I’m not,” Audie says.

“And you never have to be again.” 

They share a towel.

“Your trunks are wet,” Calhoun says, when Audie comes into the living room.

“Do you want to go swimming?” Audie asks.

“But —”

“I’ll be fine, if you go with me.”

Calhoun scrambles to his feet. “I’ll put my suit on.”

They hold hands as they walk into the waves. When the waves roll at their chests, when the water is clear, after Audie looks around them, he wraps around Calhoun, tips his chin to the side, and kisses him hard. They hold each other as the saltwater crashes in front of them, as they bob in the waves. Audie feels Calhoun harden in his suit, tent it out. “That was the best kiss ever,” Calhoun says, when Audie sucks his lower lip and pulls back.

Audie does a backflip. “Why?” he asks, when he comes up.

“Because you weren’t afraid anymore.”

Calhoun touches the bottom and leads him out of the water. They walk right to the bedroom and take off their suits. Audie sheds his rashguard.

“Now we can,” Calhoun breathes.

“Yeah,” Audie says.

“You’ll taste like saltwater.”

“So will you.”

They fall into the bed, side by side, hair still soaked. Audie wraps around Calhoun and kisses him. And he tastes like seawater, oh god he does, like the ocean, like all the secrets of undiscovered whales and unknowable depths, of dolphin names and even the distance tang of shark menace. But Audie knows now you can’t have one without the other: the fear makes the beauty bloom, magnifies it from the everyday to something wild and perfect. He sucks Calhoun’s lower lip the way he likes. Audie doesn’t close his eyes to Calhoun’s beautiful sun-browned skin, blond beginning to streak his wet mermaid tangles.They press against one another, both hard, Audie almost overcome by the sudden depth of his need.

Neon Saturday Night by Julia McBryant :: New Release :: Exclusive ::


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Author’s Bio

Julia McBryant is, as the saying goes, Southern born, Southern bred, and when she dies, she’ll be Southern dead. When she’s not riding her horse or writing, Julia likes to play with her German Shepherds and rescued greyhounds, make all the crafts (especially those involving glitter), and hike, especially in the North Carolina mountains. She is grateful her husband tolerates both the dogs and the glitter.

However, for the most part, when she isn’t writing, she’s writing. Her favorite authors include William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Pat Conroy, and Flannery O’Connor. She knows next to nothing about pop culture, and always loses at Trivial Pursuit but can kick your ass at Scrabble.