Beauty. Danger. Survival.

Skinless is a literary psychological thriller told entirely in Charmay’s raw first‑person voice.

Lower East Side, New York City, 1999. Fresh from teenage homelessness, Charmay—a street‑smart, trauma‑bruised, velvet‑voiced singer—wants more than survival. By night she becomes Cindy, the seductive armor that protects her—and threatens to take over. By day she pours truth into song, turning pain to power.

Across two turbulent years—slipping from past to present—in the city’s underground, three forces converge: producer Eddie Cruise hears fire in her voice and pushes her raw; Sam Black—the Miami‑raised son of Cuban exiles—earns her trust, but his vendetta against a privileged partner draws danger; Rex Raven—a Wall Street financier who wants Cindy, not Charmay—opens glittering doors—and traps. Family ties pick old wounds. Hustles collide. Masks switch places. Chaos ricochets. Beats. Bullets. Bedsheets.

By the final chorus, Charmay must decide: cling to the mask that kept her alive—or claim the voice that could set her free. Honest, tense, and compassionate, Skinless is a psychological portrait of a woman fighting to overcome trauma’s scars—and learning that healing begins within. For readers of The Bell Jar, Just Kids, and literary noir.

“An eloquent crime novel… sentences vacillate between beauty and despair… Charmay’s raw will to live.” — Foreword Reviews, B. Welton

“Charmay is willing to be whatever she has to be to survive… wringing hope from the desire‑soaked streets of 1990s New York City.” — Clarion Reviews, D. Ballantyne

“Lyrical… with the grit of Jim Carroll.” — Goodreads review, D.H.

Charmay’s “seductive alter ego:”  Cindy.  

From the book: “But my mom named me after Cinderella. . .” Cindy eeked. That was a new story I had concocted. . .

Wall Street fianncier, depressed divorcèe. Obsessed with Cindy- not Charmay. Offers glittering doors- and traps.

A Lynchian current runs through everything—haunting, colorful, illusory, comedic. . .
      Surrounding Charmay is a family out of true: her parents unsteady her. Wanda, five years ahead, is aloof. Aidan, two years behind—is at the crux of the family drama. Hart the unabridged vocal coach pushes Charmay’s talent by shaking her raw.
     In Sam’s orbit, Eric—an ambitious friend and recent law school grad eager to go into business with him—stirs the pot. Comic detours arrive via Doctor Ski, Sam’s psychologist who meets with the couple once, and Doctor Doggie, the dog‑obsessed referral Ski sends Charmay to. Down in Miami, Sam’s Cuban‑American family—his parents and his sister Barbie—turn a visit into a fun loving fest.
     The city adds its own chorus: Rex Raven and his trio of business associates hold questionable court at Lucky Strike; a pop singer and a little wicked man slip between sets. At a Tribeca loft, Director O., a power filmmaker, is intent on wooing Charmay while Eric’s three friends swirl through the party. At Hudson’s, everyone leans comic: Felp, the unflappable manager, presides while Max, the droll maître d’, and Frank, a dutiful waiter with impeccable timing, turn service into a running bit; a jazz singer scores the room. Elsewhere, at Darling’s, Gil, the ever‑loyal manager, gives advice like a dad while an attentive waitress keeps the weave tight; a Chanel sales associate smooths the edges; and at Fortunoff’s, Stringbean, the comic diamond rep, performs a little act to land the sale. Across town, at La Trapeze—a crisscross club filled with colorful couples finding a secret hideaway to explore hidden fantasy—Medusa, the wild‑eyed manager, presides. The Morgan Hotel draws the Cali growers, showing up with loads to get off. Late nights at Nightingales bring Skinny on guitar and Bleu on bass, laying down a pulse that follows Charmay home, as Jesse’s college friends—wide‑eyed boys hungry to get into the hustle—crowd the tables.
     And through it all, characters from the past haunt the timeline—surfacing as echoes, run‑ins, and vivid memories that complicate the present. . .