A man who never got to be a kid meets a guy who never grew up
Never by Tara Lain

NEVER is an opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers, raising-his-siblings, taking-on-the-bad-guys, fairy tale retelling, MM romance, where true love lives in Everland. Come join us now.

How Do You Get to Neverland? Second Star to the Right and Straight on to –-Brooklyn

In a subway tunnel at 2AM, buttoned-up Wendell Darling comes face to face with his divergent opposite, red-headed, elven-faced Peter Panachek.

Where Wen works 70 hours a week in an ad agency to support his brother and sister, Peter paints graffiti masterpieces on walls and sings rock and roll when he feels like it – just the kind of wacko that got Wen into his drudge of a life in the first place.

But Wen needs Peter desperately, and not just that way. With Peter’s art and rock band, Wen just might create an ad fabulous enough to keep the agency’s biggest client and his job.

Real life’s way different than Neverland, and Peter’s secrets and enemies threaten everything Wen loves. Everything Wen loves – including Peter.

Tara Lain Books
2nd Edition
September 1, 2020
251 pages
Available in eBook and Paperback formats

What People Are Saying About Never

4.5 Stars!

Another smash from a talented author that leaves you believing in the magic of the world.


The Novel Approach Reviews

Other Books in the Pennymaker Tales

Excerpt from Never


Descending the stairs like a flaming Baryshnikov came a guy as big as a sumo wrestler, wearing tight black jeans and a T-shirt that strained over the vast expanse of his chest and belly. Amazing, yes, but who could see him, because above his head, in a position like some flying ballerina, he held —a guy. What a guy. The boy—he looked to be in his teens, but then so did Wen, so who knew?—stretched out in the air with his legs raised and arms in Superman position. He wore black jeans, just as tight as Sumo Guy’s, and a brilliant green T-shirt that made Wen look at his shock of hair, so red it could have been painted, and his startling, captivating face. This had to be a leprechaun or an elf come to life. His wide eyes turned up at the corners like a cat laughing eternally, and they were so heavily lashed they looked enhanced with guyliner. His nose turned up, his cheekbones stuck out, there might be a cleft in his chin, and his mouth curved in a bow. Nothing on that face should go together—but it came out a frigging masterpiece.

Trouping down behind this Flying Wallenda act came three more guys, all dressed in black and managing to represent the ethnic mix of the entire world in their small group. One guy’s skin was black, and he was so handsome he barely looked real. One of them appeared to be a mix of African and Asian and something Middle-Eastern mysterious. One shorter dude must be a variety of Hispanic. Plus Parasol Girl seemed to be a member of the club.

Sumo Guy carried the elf in a wide circle as the boy flapped his arms. Then Sumo gave him a little toss, which made Wen catch his breath. The elf flew up and landed gracefully in Sumo Guy’s massive arms. He threw back his head, scarlet hair flying, and yelled, “Ta-da!”

Back on his feet, the elf proved to be maybe five foot eight or nine of compact perfection—wide shoulders for his small size, slim hips, and long legs. He bowed low to the applause of his band of merry weirdos and turned in a circle. Wen sucked a small breath. Look at that butt. High, round, and hard—definitely supernatural.

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