Happy July 31st! I’d like to start by thanking Delilah for allowing me to guest today. She and the entire writing community have been extremely warm and welcoming to this newbie. I am in awe of their generosity and kindness!
Three Confessions of a Newbie
I am smart enough to know that I am ignorant. It’s true; no matter how much you know, there is always more to learn, a lot more. Being a writer can be a lesson in humility or an educational adventure, depending upon how you look at it. Readers are smart and savvy so authors have to know their stuff. I can’t mistake Athena for the Goddess of the Hunt, call a famous Samurai a ninja or mix up Princess Joanna of Castile for her sister, Mary, Queen of Hungry. With writing, there is no fake it ‘till you make it so I find myself researching subjects far and wide from ancient mythology, the Bible, military hierarchy, state laws, Asian history, the Vatican and everything in between. I won’t even get into all I don’t know about the publishing industry, but I’m learning more every day.
I’m terrified! I haven’t been writing as long as a lot of other authors my age. I’ve had stories bubbling and brewing in my head all my life, but I never wrote any of them down until sometime in 2013. At first, I was just amusing myself, but I developed a love for writing. Suddenly I dreamed of becoming a professional author. When my first book, Do Geek Girl’s Dream of Electric Sweeties? was published June 5, 2015, I was thrilled, but now I’m scared of turning my dream into a nightmare. Sometimes fear and self-doubt weigh heavily on me, but I think maybe those negative feelings are important to the process. What else could motivate me to re-read and edit a manuscript 100+ times just to make sure it was everything I wanted it to be? Besides, over the years many amazing authors and artists have confessed to the same thing so at least I’m in good company.
My process owns me, not the other way around. Those stories rolling around in my brain make me run for my laptop, and the chapters pour forth, but when it’s over, it’s over. My muse might give me everything but chapter six out of sixteen, but I won’t get chapter six until she is ready to give it up. Meanwhile, that muse has started cooking a few more dishes. I just have to move on and write what she tells me until ding, ding, ding—Oh, so that’s how chapter six is supposed to read! Currently, I have two stories submitted to publishers, four partials at varying degrees of completion and a couple of rough outlines I’m not sure when I will get around to writing. Which story gets finished next is up to that persnickety muse, but either way, I still love the process.
Do Geek Girl’s Dream of Electric Sweeties?
Graphic novel artist and author Mary Allison is a lot like the famous candy that melts in your mouth—a sexy, sassy outer shell hides her sweet and creamy, geek girl center. Holden, her strict, uptight editor, would personify nails across a chalkboard if he weren’t so good looking. She finds herself attracted to him but is certain they could never mesh romantically.
Unbeknownst to Mary Allison, Holden has been enthralled by her from the start, even going so far as to stall his career to continue working with her. On the verge of becoming lovers, they’re impeded by interruptions and misunderstandings. The geek girl and the stuffy editor must learn to communicate and connect before fear and confusion keep them apart forever.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
Short Excerpt: Mary Allison decided to give Holden a little push and see if he was really interested in her or if he actually came all the way over to her place just to watch TV. Without a word, she leaned into him, resting her body against his side and tucking herself underneath his strong, muscular arm. Now the ball was in his court and Mary Allison hoped he would take it and run.
Holden didn’t miss a beat, quickly moving his arm to hold her securely in place. He even turned his head and nuzzled into her hair. “Well what do you know?” he said cryptically before adding, “It was you all along. Every damn time I came here that scent drew me in, and it was you. You smell delicious.”
Author Bio: Sierra Brave is a southern girl with a love of fantasy fiction and well-written yarns spun from everyday situations. She thoroughly believes the characters should carry the story. If the hero, heroine and supporting characters are interesting, it doesn’t really matter where the action takes place.
Her love for erotic literature started when, as a senior in high school, she managed to snag a copy of the old classic, Fanny Hill. Sierra still remembers how deliciously naughty she felt carrying her copy in her book bag and hopes all her readers will feel just as daring and liberated while reading her books.
Ms. Brave lives in the deep, down, dirty south with her husband, three children, two little black dogs and one feisty orange cat.
When Maggie Spencer is mysteriously transported to the Scotland of her ancestors, she is stunned to come face to face with him. Dominic Dundragon, the man she’s been half in love with her whole life. A man who’s been dead for 700 years.
They both have enemies aplenty. Will she have a chance to win his love, or will this adventure end in disaster?
Read an excerpt
Maggie yelped as, without warning, the burly warrior named Declan whipped her up into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder. To her horror, she lost the hold on her locket.
“Wait,” she cried. She wriggled to get free, but his grip was too hard. When she pummeled his back with her fists as he strode from the circle of stones, he chuckled. The beast. But to be fair, he was so large, it would have felt like a kitten batting him. “Put me down.”
“I willna,” he said. “The Mackintosh will decide how you die.”
All right. That shut her up. For a minute. “Die? Why do I need to die?” What the hell had she done to him?
The man following, an enormous blond with a scar tracking his cheek bent down to peer at her. “The Mackintosh’s doona tolerate spies.”
“I’m not a spy.” Seriously. She wriggled more and Declan smacked her ass.
Smacked her ass.
She’d kill him when she got free. Just kill him.
“Yer wearing the Cameron colors,” the blond said. “And the Mackintosh’s doona—”
“Right. I know. The Mackintosh’s doona tolerate spies.” Her head was starting to spin from being upside down and jounced around with each step. Her temper was on a short leash. “But honestly, if I were a spy, would I wear the Cameron colors? It seems a little counterproductive in my opinion. I mean, if I’m spying and all. I might as wear a sign that says, oh, I dunno, honk if you love spies.”
His brow rumpled but he didn’t respond. At least, not to her. “She speaks strangely,” he complained to Declan.
Her captor snorted a laugh. “She dresses strangely too.”
“Aye. She does at that. I’ve heard the Cameron lasses are a wild lot, but I had no idea—”
“I’m. Not. A. Cameron.” She reached out and smacked the blond, but only because he came close enough. He reared back and gaped at her—as though he’d never been smacked before—and then he quickly moved out of range.
It hardly mattered, because, apparently, they had reached their destination, a camp on the edge of the woods. The sounds of nickering horses and clanks of pots gave her her first clue—she was facing the other way, after all.
Her second clue was that Declan dropped her on the ground. She landed with an oof. She glared at him. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Go get my brother, Ewan,” he barked, and the blond trotted off to one of the larger tents.
When she stood and brushed off her jeans, Declan bristled and she shot him a sardonic glare. Did he think she was stupid enough to run away? For one thing, these enormous men had her surrounded. For another, she never ran. Not if she could help it.
Instead, she made a quick survey of her surroundings. The camp was little more than a huddle of tents with the forest on one side and a sweeping plain on the other. A small herd of horses were hobbled to one side and a deer roasted over a pit fire. An entire deer. Before she could silence the thought—she often had that problem—she said, “You killed Bambi.”
Declan’s brow rumpled. “I dinna kill anyone.” And then he asked, “Who is Bambi?”
“Never mind.” She crossed her arms and turned away pretending to ignore them. But she wasn’t. She was aware they were all staring at her like she was a curiosity in a zoo, but she was taking in tiny details as well. Like the fact that their clothes were all handmade and simple. Their hair appeared to have been cut with a chainsaw and their beards were scraggly and long. Their weapons were what made her mind really start to spin though.
One held a crossbow that dated from the thirteenth century. Another had a Mackintosh dirk that resembled one she’d seen in a museum once. Declan had a simple calfskin sporran tied to his belt.
Odd. Could she have wandered into some renaissance faire? But no. It had been evening when she stepped into the woods and now it was daytime. Early afternoon. And the acres of woods around the house belonged to the family. It couldn’t be—
“So.” She flinched as a deep, melodious voice wafted to her on a hint of humor. Shivers danced through her, along with a prickling sense of premonition. “You’ve captured a Cameron spy?”
She turned slowly and froze as her gaze landed on him. On that so-familiar face. Broad, handsome, savage. Much more captivating than the sketch had been. Much more captivating by far.
She must be hallucinating. She had to be.
He was the hero of her dreams come to life.
Dominic Dundragon, Laird of the Mackintosh clan.
Large, looming and in the flesh.
Her head went woozy. Her vision blurred. And then, for the first time in her life, she fainted.
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.
UPDATE: The winner of the free download of this story is…Liberty Ann Ireland!
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This week, I’m busy writing the next Uncharted SEALs story—this one’s about an ex-sniper on vacation in Cancun trying to figure out what’s next for him. He meets a very sexy woman and things get hot and heavy fast, but she has some secrets… I’m nearing the end, and a good thing—Through Her Eyes comes out August 4th!
So, in the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from the first Uncharted SEALs story, Watch Over Me. 🙂
Leave a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free copy of WATCH OVER ME!
Watch Over Me
When Deke Warrick accepts an unsanctioned detail to keep tabs on a congressman’s niece while she vacations in the Caribbean, he expects the only dangers he’ll face are sunburn and a rum hangover. Determined to keep his distance, his resolve is challenged by a chance encounter with the beautiful Nicky Martir—and then shattered when she’s snatched from their hotel room.
She arrived at her door breathless and slipped him her key card. Once he’d opened the door and done his little safety check, he directed his attention back to her, laser focus sliding over her body, head to toe, leaving her feeling singed everywhere his gaze touched.
He turned on the lamp beside the bed then strode to the overhead light switch, turning it off. Then he went to work on his buttons, jerking his chin in her direction. “Get those off.”
Although she’d never been spoken to like that before by a man, she didn’t need to be told twice. His delivery was harsh and graveled, his words straight to the point—and she found she liked it. But she didn’t dare betray her inward grin. She couldn’t have him feeling too confident. Already once tonight, he’d taken her to the edge of her endurance. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to reveal the extent of her desire. She narrowed her gaze and took her sweet time stepping out of her shoes, removing the few pieces of jewelry she’s worn—earrings, a thin bracelet—and setting them on the bedside table. By the time she reached for her zipper, she saw he was already nude and he’d folded his arms over her broad chest.
Her fingers went still as she stared at him. Her mouth dried. In the golden glow of a single lamp, his body was a beautiful, burnished brown, except for the pale stripe of skin across his hips. Her gaze went straight to his sex, already fully awakened, and jutting from his groin. Perfectly proportioned with his large, muscular body. Oh my. Her thighs pressed together at the renewed urgency cramping her core.
He strode toward her, more intimidating naked than he’d been clothed, and she fought to breathe, lifting her hair clear of her zipper as he circled behind her and slid down her zipper. She trembled as he quickly pushed her dress to the floor and hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties to drag those off, too.
Standing naked, she shivered in the cool conditioned air as he circled her again, his head bent as he studied her body. Not politely, either. His hands touched everywhere his gaze went, smoothing over her bottom, her hip, lifting her breasts one at a time. Slipping between her legs to cup her mound. Feeling as though she’d been thoroughly inspected, she didn’t know whether she should feel flattered or outraged.
Just woke up and it’s hard to be creative when all I want to do is crawl back under the covers. I was having this wonderful dream. A much younger William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy were at a convention, and I was one of the lucky fans selected to have dinner with them. I brought my camera with me to get photographic proof James T. Kirk was at my table, but every time I clicked a shot the picture was overexposed. What a nightmare! 🙂
So, that got me thinking. Frustrated fantasies have to be pretty common in Dream World. So do dreams about famous celebrities.
Hi Delilah! Thank you for having me as your guest today!
July 27th is National Creme Brulee Day. To celebrate, I’d like to share my grandma’s recipe and then share with readers how to download my newly released paranormal novel for free.
Grandma’s Creme Brulee
Ingredients: 2-1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons brown sugar
6 tablespoons white sugar
Prep time: 10 minutes.
Cook time: 30 minutes.
Total time: 2 hours and 40 minutes
Preheat oven to 300°F.
Separate eggs, discarding whites and retaining yolks.
Combine egg yolks, four tablespoons white sugar, and vanilla extract in a mixing bowl and beat until thick.
Heat cream in a saucepan over low heat until simmering. Before it comes to a boil, remove from heat.
Stir cream into the egg yolk mixture and mix until combined.
Pour mixture into the top pan of a double boiler. Stir over simmering water for three minutes. Remove from heat.
Pour mixture into a shallow baking dish.
Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes.
Remove from oven and cool to room temperature.
Refrigerate for an hour or more.
Preheat oven to broil.
In a small bowl combine two tablespoons white sugar and brown sugar. Sift sugar evenly over custard. Place dish under broiler until sugar caramelizes (approximately two minutes). Keep a close eye on it so it doesn’t burn.
Remove from heat and cool.
Refrigerate until custard is set again.*
*Serve with blueberries, strawberries, or peaches.
Author: Melissa Thomas Genre: A New Adult paranormal fantasy Published on: June 15, 2015
Centuries after the fallen angels left heaven to live among humans, their Nephilim descendants dwell in secret, hidden from the modern world. Once, a charismatic leader known as the Phoenix led their people, but he vanished centuries ago. The few surviving Great Houses are in decline, bickering over petty rivalries while a handful of faithful warriors battle to keep the forces of evil at bay.
Eighteen-year-old Aiden McLachlan devotes her life to her studies and pursues her lifelong goal to become a full-fledged Watcher. But everything she knows of her life is a lie and everyone a liar. Through a strange twist of fate, she finds herself caught up in an ancient prophecy.
The stars predict the rebirth of the Nephilim leader, but the mystery must be unraveled or the Phoenix cannot rise. With a soul-eating demon, a coven of ancient vampires, and a hardheaded Celtic warrior competing to subvert the Phoenix, Aiden doesn’t know where to turn or who she can trust.
All of the serial parts of Phoenix Contract (Parts 1-5) will be FREE on Amazon Kindle JULY 27TH:
He’d always had the worst of luck, and the day he died was no different.
Thrash stared into the chasm of space between the building roof and city streets, contemplating the eighty-story drop. It was a long way down. The city’s lights glimmered against darkness, millions of fluorescent stars. Surrender did not come easily to him, and it tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d spent his life training to fight, but what could he do against an enemy that could shape shift at will?
Six-foot-six and muscular in the manner of body builders, Thorton David Aston III or Thrash to his friends, was an albino. He was born without skin or hair pigment, his skin perfectly pale, his hair white. He rivaled the city lightscape for its clean brightness. He disliked the attention his condition attracted, so he’d cropped his hair short and dyed it metallic blue.
Thrash’s athletic body thrummed with tension. Perspiration beaded on his pale forehead and made his palms clammy.
The Soul Eater was coming for him.
“I won’t help you,” Matthew said, “no matter what you do to me.”
“Oh, but I think you will,” Daniel disagreed. “Once I turn you, then you’ll be more than happy to help.” Lightning swift, the vampire lashed out and seized Matthew’s wrist, forcing the priest’s arm down.
Matthew cried out in pain as Daniel squeezed his wrist until his hand opened and the crucifix dropped to the ground.
Aiden shouted and swung her crucifix around to protect Matthew, but she was too slow. Daniel dragged Matthew away and thrust the priest toward his minions.
“Hold him,” Daniel said.
Immediately, the carrot-topped boy and the policewoman caught hold of the priest.
Aiden expected Daniel’s attack, but that didn’t prepare her for the vampire’s speed. Daniel rushed her, progressing so fast his contorted face filled her vision. She kept the crucifix level and aimed for the vampire’s eyes, but Daniel caught hold of her wrist with disturbing ease. Then he twisted her arm, causing a wrenching pain in her shoulder. Against her will, Aiden bent over to avoid having her arm torn from the socket. She lost her grip on her crucifix.
“Let her go!” Matthew shouted. “She’s done nothing.”
Daniel immobilized Aiden, ignoring her struggles. He forced her head to the side and exposed her throat. “Oh, I don’t think so. I want you to suffer, Matt,” he said. “As a self-styled Lord of the Night, I’m rather pleased with the revenge I’ve concocted. So I’m going to eat your pretty daughter and make you watch.”
Magnus loomed over her, attempting to inspect her injuries. His fingers were hot and alien against her skin, and she flinched from his touch.
“Stay put while I retrieve the crucifix,” Magnus ordered. He moved away from her. A moment later, he returned carrying the crucifix.
Aiden shook her head but stayed still. She automatically tried to place his accent and failed. There were too many layers. “Where are you from? I can’t quite place your nationality.”
“I’m Averni.” He sank to the ground beside her, and those six-fingered hands touched her again, causing her flesh to crawl.
“The Averni were a Celtic tribe,” Aiden said. Her foggy mind recalled little else other than the Averni had been from the region of Gaul before it became France.
“That’d be correct.” The Celt reached out with his strange, strong fingers and pushed Aiden’s head to the side to expose the wound. He removed her hand and examined the bite. His glittering gold eyes were intelligent and inhuman. Up close he smelled earthy and sensual, a suggestive scent which caused Aiden to flush and look away.
“Why is your name Latin?” she asked.
“My mother was Roman. Stay still,” he replied.
“How bad is it?” Matthew asked.
“Not too bad.” Magnus threaded the crucifix’s chain through his fingers so the holy symbol rested in his palm. He opened the silver flask and poured holy water over the crucifix.
Aiden felt excited and afraid and so tense she wanted to crawl out of her skin. “Are you really immortal?”
“Yes,” Magnus said. “This is going to hurt. I’m going to have to hold you down.”
Author Bio and Links:
Melissa Thomas breathes life into her dreams, bringing imaginary characters and fantasy worlds into our reality. She loves her characters so much they become her alter-egos, enacting the exciting adventures she envisions for them. She is a resident of San Francisco, California and adores the picturesque city by the bay. Her hobbies include surfing and scuba diving.
UPDATE: The winner of the free download from yesterday’s post is…Linda!
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Hey there! Yesterday’s contest is still open. And if you post on this blog today, that will give you a second entry! In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from my story inside the upcoming 12-Alarm Cowboys! Believe me, you do not want to miss this box set! It’s sssssmokin’!
AFTER THE FIRE by Cora Seton
When a series of fires keeps bringing him to her door, a firefighter must uncover his ex-girlfriend’s secret or risk losing her forever.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE (A Cowboy Way Novella) by Becky McGraw
Cowboy Austin McBride follows a herd to a new town, but firefighting is his passion, so he applies at a local station. Standing between him and the job is a blonde bombshell who thinks she’s a shoe-in.
SADDLES AND SOOT by Cynthia D’Alba
Rancher and volunteer firefighter extinguishes a grass fire accidentally started by the town’s sexy temporary veterinarian but there’s something about her that ignites a fire inside of him.
CONTROLLED BURN (Cowboys on the Edge, Book One) by Delilah Devlin
Rancher and volunteer firefighter assigns himself to watch a reformed firebug during a controlled burn but she lights the fire inside him instead of the dead grass around them.
HIS FIREFLY COWGIRL by Beth Williamson
When an arson investigator returns to her hometown she clashes with the firefighter cowboy who broke her heart. Embers turn to sparks between a cowboy and his firefly cowgirl.
HER VOLUNTEER COWBOY (Book 6: Harland County) by Donna Michaels
Sparks reignite when one-nighters reunite. Can the firefighter/Guardsman convince the reforming bad girl she’s worth fighting for, or will she leave before he finds the courage to volunteer his heart?
COWBOY’S MATCH by Lexi Post
When a cowboy firefighter works a fire at a nudist resort, he’s sure his ex-girlfriend, the bookkeeper, is to blame. But as he investigates her, his gut tells him he’s going to get burned.
HELLFIRE, TEXAS by Elle James
A Cowboy-Volunteer Firefighter helps a runaway city girl put out a car fire only to find himself embroiled in a hot little mess of ex-boyfriend persuasion.
REKINDLED (Dallas Fire & Rescue, Book One) by Paige Tyler
A hunky firefighter rescues his best friend’s sexy sister from a hotel fire set by her psychotic ex-boyfriend who’d rather see her dead than with another man.
TEXAS WILDFIRE by Sable Hunter
Honored VFD hero is no angel. In love with his Captain’s wife, all hell breaks loose when Titan learns Makenna is abused. The firestorm their love ignites is so intense no one will emerge unscathed.
HOT IN THE SADDLE – Randi Alexander
When a rancher/volunteer firefighter is injured saving the life of a female stockcar racer, she stays to pay her debt of gratitude. Will he regret risking his life when he learns why she came to Texas?
COME HELL OR HIGH WATER by Sabrina York
When offered a second chance to seduce his high school crush, cowboy/fireman Cade Silver cannot resist. Despite her resistance, he is determined to win her, come hell or high water.
Excerpt from the opening of CONTROLLED BURN:
Caldera, Texas had been aptly named by its founders. Although technically late winter, the air was unseasonably warm—hot as a witch’s cauldron, and the town just as cursed.
Or, at least the place was so far as Carly Lohan was concerned.
Carly closed her car door and drew a deep breath, thinking she’d as soon have a root canal as walk into the midst of the people gathering inside the community center. All gazes would turn her way. They’d nudge their friends, and the ugly whispers would begin.
She might as well have had a big “A” branded on her forehead, but not for adultery like Hester Prynne—her crime was far worse. Arson wasn’t something folks around here would ever forgive.
Not that she thought of herself as an arsonist. However, a charge like that, even against a minor, clung like skunk spray. Which was why she’d headed to college as soon as she’d graduated high school and now lived a town away. Tonight, she had to face Calderans one last time.
Gripping her purse like it was a shield, she strode toward the door. Before she even reached the steps, she heard a whistle sound from behind her.
“Well, would you lookie there. If it ain’t Carly Lohan. Long time, no see.”
If she were ninety, she would have recognized Tater Johnson’s nasal twang. He’d taunted from her first day in kindergarten and had been the biggest thorn in her side all throughout school. The fact she was here today was partly because of him. She forced a smile and turned. “Good to see you, Tater.”
He smoked a cigarette while sitting on the edge of his truck bed. “Burn up any canyons lately?” he drawled.
Wow. He didn’t even take a second to work up to that. Carly stopped the automatic wince before he could see it. The last thing she should do was rise to a single one of his taunts. “Not lately. You going to the meeting?” she asked, tilting her head toward the open doors.
“Course.” He tipped back his cowboy hat and gave her a narrowed stare. “Keepin’ Caldera Canyon safe is important to me—which is why I’m wonderin’ what the hell you’re doin’ here.”
Carly felt her face heat. Before she could think of a more mature reply, she shot him the bird and turned on her heel. Good Lord, she’d only been back for five minutes and was already reverting to her old ways.
His grating chuckles followed her inside the large hall. The instant satisfaction she’d felt at giving the rude gesture faded as she entered and searched the rows of metal folding chairs. All seats were taken—of course, except for a couple right in front of the speakers’ table. Shit.
She didn’t have a choice. She’d be sitting across from the current sheriff of Caldera County. Her gaze snagged on the man sitting beside him, Jeremiah McCord, and her stomach sank at the glare he leveled. Shit-shit-shit.Read the rest of this entry »
I can’t wait for August 11th to come! Know why? Okay, you can probably guess by the title of this post and the great big, in-your-face cover below.
Hotter with A Pole releases on August 11th!
So I have releases all the time. Why am I so excited by this one? It’s my first strictly male-male romance. And it’s smokin’ hot and strangely sweet, and I can’t wait for you to read it!
I love my Memphis set books. The five Delta Heat stories were filled with kink and fun. But then I decided to add a little touch of dangerous doings and real-life action into the Firehouse 69 sequel series. The added conflict certainly upped the angst for Hoyt and Noah in HWAP. And again, I can’t wait for you to read it!
I’ve provided an excerpt below and the links where you can pre-order the book. I do have the feeling you’re going to love it.
What’s your favorite piece of a firefighter’s equipment? Have fun!
Hotter With A Pole
When your heart is stuck in the wrong gear, a quick fix isn’t going to cut it.
When Noah buys a classic ’68 Camaro from a fellow firefighter’s widow, he hopes it will ease some of the grief crushing his heart. But the grinding noise under the car’s hood sends him straight to a mechanic. Something about the burly, imposing Hoyt sparks Noah’s interest, and it’s not just Hoyt’s ice-blue eyes and bad-boy biker looks. It’s the mutual interest they have—Club LaForge.
After losing his partner to cancer a year ago, Hoyt never thought he’d feel the same kind of rush with another man. But his reaction to Noah throbs deep in his body like the rumble of his Harley.
LaForge seems like the perfect place to meet and work off some sorrow, to feel alive again. But the flood of desire quickly gets hot enough to melt their emotional barriers into unexpected connections.
Connections Hoyt isn’t sure he’s ready for…especially since history has a scary way of repeating itself.
Warning: Get your motor running for a Harley-riding hunk of muscle who doesn’t give a damn about the rules of being a Dom, and a firefighter who can take the heat. Buy a case of your favorite coolant. You’re gonna need it.
“My bike’s parked outside the back exit. Do you need to tell anyone goodbye?”
Noah shook his head, his stomach filling with those odd fluttery feelings again.
Hoyt walked to Noah’s clothing and handed him his pants. As Noah dressed, Hoyt’s gaze slid over his body, more intimately than it had before, lingering on his cock, his chest, then rising to meet his gaze.
Noah knew where this was going. Knew they might skip a ton of preliminaries, but he didn’t need them. His body was already tightening again. The sooner he was alone with Hoyt, really alone, he knew things would happen quickly, and he didn’t really want time to consider what any of this meant—this wild attraction, this need that centered in his chest, because he thought maybe Hoyt was every bit as lonely as he was. That there was something painful in his past. The hints of bleakness he’d seen in his eyes the day before had seemed to mirror his own pain.
For Hoyt to be this transparently intense, this eager to climb right over everything he was—a man, a Dom—to get straight to the intimacy of being with him, pointed at something.
And Noah was more than just curious now. He wanted to know who Hoyt was, what drove him, what secrets lay behind his hooded gaze. He tucked his cock inside his pants and reached for the shirt Hoyt handed him, only Hoyt didn’t let it go. Instead, the other man tugged on it, pulling Noah closer.
Noah drew a shaky breath and let himself be reeled in until they stood so close one deep breath would cause their bared chests to meet. His nipples tightened. When Hoyt leaned toward him, he closed his eyes.
A firm mouth glided over his. Noah opened. Hoyt thrust his tongue inside and then licked along Noah’s tongue, coaxing Noah’s to come into his mouth where he then sucked on it.
Noah groaned, closed the gap between their chests and went with his instincts, lifting a hand to grip the other man’s hips and aligning his clothed cock with Hoyt’s.
Hoyt clutched Noah’s ass and the back of his head and growled deep in his throat as he rubbed up and down Noah’s shaft.
Noah was in good shape, knew what a hard body felt like, but Hoyt’s muscle was more than hard, it was bulky, hot—and trembling against him.
When Hoyt broke the kiss, Noah fought the urge to follow him. Instead, he stood close, their cocks still aligned, and he knew with an unwavering certainty, he was ready for this. For Hoyt. “Let’s go,” he said.