Deviations: Submission

Series: Deviations
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen

Tobias is a skilled Dom, able to bring even the most hesitant submissive around. Noah is a man in need of just that. He wants to sub badly, but has yet to find someone he believes can take him where he needs to go. Through a series of encounters in the world of bondage and discipline, Noah reveals why he has trouble trusting, why he needs such a firm, steady hand. Tobias may allow himself to dominate, but he has trouble letting himself love. Still, Tobias can't resist Noah's charms, and the two of them set about making a scene for themselves, one that works for them and their unique set of problems. They learn to love, but can they stay together while they explore each others' secrets, in a world where all is laid bare and emotions run high? From authors Chris Owen, writer of the popular Bareback, and Jodi Payne, writer of String of Pearls comes a romance on the deviant side, where love is all tied up with the need to submit, the need to dominate, and the need to share a life of exploration and care. These two skilled authors create a world that's hard to resist, and a book that's even harder to put down.

 


Also in this series: Submission, Domination, Discipline, Bondage, Safe Words
Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT FROM SUBMISSION

There were many truths in this life, Tobias decided as he knotted his tie for the evening. Death comes to all, taxes must be paid, and fortieth birthdays were a reason for one's friends to buy nice wine, make lavish cakes, and throw dinner parties. Forty-first birthdays, on the other hand, went unremarked upon by all but one's nearest and dearest. As he had cards from a few friends and a message from Phan, he thought he'd just about exhausted the expected well wishes.

But turning forty-one did not mean he was dead or unable to make his own fun. He'd made his arrangements for the evening, planning with as much detail as he could—which, admittedly, wasn't much. He knew what to wear for his mood; he knew where he'd go and what he'd eat; he knew what he wanted. But there were an amazing number of variables at play, more than he usually allowed.

He was thinking about that as he straightened his dinner jacket and pocketed his keys. It was a highly planned evening of spontaneity that lay ahead of him, the novelty of which made him smile. Perhaps letting the fates blow once in a while was a good thing. In any case, he'd find out shortly; the worst he could do was have an evening of fine dining and a bottle of wine. The best would be far, far better, but it was rare to find exactly what he sought.

Tobias ran a comb through his hair one last time as he waited for his car, the light in the entry to his condo making the few stray silver hairs shine among the darker brown. Forty-one wasn't too old, he decided. It was a fine age to be, the height of his success and skill. He lacked for nothing, really.

Only someone to share his birthday with.

The phone rang and he pushed the thought away, startled to realize it wasn't the house phone signaling his car, but his landline. ''Dr. Vincent,'' he said as he answered. God, he hoped it wasn't an emergency—he really wasn't dressed to have a lamb be born, or to nurse a horse through colic.

''Good evening, Doctor, I'm sorry to call like this. I'm sure you have plans,'' came the smooth and cheerful voice of his elderly housekeeper.

''Oh, Mrs. Miller, hello. I do, yes—I'm just on my way out, but I have a few minutes.'' He smiled to himself ruefully; he would talk for as long as the lady decided, and he knew it. No matter how successful he got or how many birthdays he had, there would always be Mrs. Miller to defer to.

''I'm merely calling to wish you a happy birthday,'' she said, ''and to ask if you'll be out to the farm this weekend.''

Tobias’ smile grew. ''Thank you, Mrs. Miller, that's really very kind of you. And yes, I'm planning to drive out tomorrow afternoon until Monday.''

''Should I tell Peter not to come then, or would you like him to exercise the horses?''

''No, I'll do it,'' he decided. It was one of the best things about going to the country, and he wouldn't happily pay someone to do it for him when he was there. The house phone buzzed at him, two shorts. ''Thank you again, Mrs. Miller.''

''I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor,'' she said, and he could picture her grinning. ''Enjoy your evening.''

''I hope to,'' he said with a smile. He hung up, buzzed the front desk, and headed to his club.

* * *

The car pulled up in front of the building and Tobias lowered his window for the security guard. ''Good evening, Tobias,'' the man said with a smile that was entirely professional, despite his use of Tobias' first name. It was a club rule that all members were to be treated equally until there was an agreement in place between individuals, and as last names were not used at all in order to preserve anonymity, given names were expected.

''Timothy,'' Tobias said with a warm smile. ''When did you start out here?'' The last time Tobias had been to the club Timothy had been inside.

''About five months ago. I like it, though I'm called back inside if needed.'' Timothy made a note of the number on Tobias' membership card and smiled at him again. ''Have a nice evening, Tobias. And welcome back.''

The car moved slowly ahead and stopped at the wide front steps; by the time Tobias had opened his door the driver was there, and the front door was opening.

''Tobias! Timothy said you were here.''

Tobias shook his head and smiled again. ''I trust you don't mind me appearing again after all this time?'' he asked Bradford.

Bradford met him on the steps and shook his hand. Tobias' friendship with Bradford went back far too many years to count anymore, and even after Tobias’ long absence from the club, the man’s firm handshake felt as familiar and comforting as a favorite sweater. ''The day we turn you from here, my friend,'' Bradford told him with a warm smile, ''is the day I close the old place up. Now, come in! Eat. Enjoy your birthday. I have a room reserved for you, as you requested. You're not meeting anyone are you?''

The club had a small, exclusive membership made up of carefully screened Dominant and submissive men. These men had been screened not just for their level of training but also style and personality, thereby keeping the membership diverse and varied. It wasn’t a BDSM club in the common sense; it was more a place for men to meet, socialize and fulfill each others’ needs and fantasies in a safe and monitored environment. Bradford had taken over management of the club a number of years ago, and eventually assumed ownership as well when his mentor, a smooth, confident Dom who had also been a mentor of Tobias’, was ready to retire. Bradford was a natural host; he knew his membership well, and he had a knack for making everyone feel right at home.

Tobias shook his head again and allowed himself to be led inside. The solid doors closed behind him and he took a deep breath, immediately relaxing. There was just something about the dark interior, the plush fabrics and deep wingback chairs that called to him. Or perhaps it was the crossed whips decorating the walls.

''I don't have a guest, if that's what you mean,'' he told Bradford as they made their way to the small bar. ''But I'm open to possibilities.''

''I was hoping you would say that.'' Bradford suddenly looked speculative. ''In which case...''

''Wait,'' Tobias said, laughing. ''I'm not saying I want you to find me a date. I'm just saying I want to have a pleasant evening—a nice meal, people I like around me—''

''And it's been eight months since you've been here, Tobias. I know you spend your weekends on the farm and your weeknights in town. I'd certainly have heard if you had someone new.'' He shook his head sadly, making Tobias grin. ''No, my friend, you deserve to play. And I might just have the right someone for you.''

Tobias tilted his head and considered his friend. Bradford had been running the club for a number of years, had been an integral part of Tobias' own training. There was perhaps no one more capable of knowing the type of partner Tobias needed, liked... desired.

''Tell me,'' Tobias invited, accepting a glass of ice water from the bartender.

Bradford beamed at him, delighted. ''I can, and will do you one better. Come.''

Tobias had little choice but to follow as Bradford crossed the room with purpose to a small table. Tobias, being behind, could see little other than a man sitting alone. He rose quickly as Bradford made a direct path to him.

''Tobias,'' Bradford said grandly, ''I would like you to meet Noah. Noah, this is Tobias. It is my opinion that the two of you are well suited. Of course, you may decide otherwise, but I encourage you to at least discuss the matter.'' He then bowed his head and stepped back, wishing them good evening with a knowing grin before turning and walking away, leaving Tobias to face this stranger alone, knowing no more than his name.

Title: Deviations: Submission
Published by: Pretty Muses Publishing
Release Date: October 29, 2016 (Second Edition)

 

Submission is now available in AUDIO!
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Linchpin

"This was such an exciting read. It really gets your heart rate up and blood pumping with all the danger, testosterone between these two alpha men, and of course all of the hot sexy scenes... Definitely a book I will recommend to others." -- Gay Book Reviews

He’s sent in to clean up and is left with one very hot mess.

Randall Quinn has been a cleaner for the mob for over ten years, but a particularly violent scene sets him to drinking alone and contemplating his options. At thirty-nine, it’s possible this is just a mid-life crisis so he tries buying himself a flashy car to satisfy the itch, and agrees to take another job to test his conviction. He’s expecting easy money when he arrives at a seedy motel to clean up after what the Boss told him was supposed to have been a simple execution. But what he discovers in that motel room is anything but simple, and from that moment on, every decision he makes for himself makes his life more and more complicated.

Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT

Randall Quinn’s new ride was pretty sweet.

The BMW was fully loaded, including an in-dash navigation system, Bluetooth fucking everything, and a black leather and wood grain interior. She was comfortable and stylish, and her engine vibrated gently but powerfully, like a wild cat getting ready to pounce. Mrowr. Quinn tapped a button on the dashboard display and practically summoned up Zeppelin with the power of his fucking mind. Damn, the technology gods were good. He sped down the rural highway, Black Dog sinking straight into his psyche through the seven-speaker surround sound. Fuck yeah.

His new baby was paid for in full, and in cash. He’d finally laid by enough in savings that he could afford to spend with more freedom. He’d never gone in for such an extravagance before, but he’d been salivating over this baby at the dealership for a month and he’d eventually broken down and done it. She was a hot-red color—well, the dealership called it something stupid like Orange Metallic, but it was basically red—which, admittedly, didn’t fly under the radar the way she probably ought to, but Quinn didn’t care anymore. After over ten years in the biz, he’d fucking earned the right to show off.

He’d pulled in that stack of cash on a high-end hotel assignment he’d had a week ago. Swanky, several-thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suites were always a challenge, but this one was even more so than usual and had definitely warranted the boost in pay. The boys had made a royal mess of the place, so much so that Quinn figured they must have had some seriously specific and scary fucking orders. There’d been blood and fingerprints everywhere and Quinn had had to deal with stains in the carpet, on the wallpaper, and splattered across furniture. Even with a crew, the cleanup had been a pain in the ass and had taken almost two full days. He’d even had to replace the carpet and a fucking couch.

It was damn lucrative as far as such things went, to be sure, but Quinn had sat in a bar for a couple of hours alone afterward, and he and his bourbon had decided it was about time to call it quits. Quinn was coming up on thirty-nine and he was getting a little old for this shit. He’d kind of fallen into this line of work back in his twenties when he’d made his daily bread working for the coroner’s office and cleaned up crime scenes legally. It hadn’t been long before a particularly influential lover had shown him where the real money was, and Quinn had found himself literally seduced into a darker world by the fine art of cleanup to cover up.

“Aaaaaand, here we are.” This job wasn’t going to be as big a payday, but smaller gigs like this were simpler, and made up more of his bread and butter. He pulled into the motel parking lot, waving a hand across the display to mute the radio. So. Fucking. Cool. Slowly, Quinn drove along the length of the building until he found room three-twenty-nine. The location was perfect, way down at one end and on the first floor. Easy in, easy out. Seemed those muscle boys were finally learning. He turned around and headed back to the main entrance.

Quinn touched a button on the display and the sound of a ringing phone filled the interior.

“Found it?” a familiar voice answered—a fucking party in the sack.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.”

“Seriously, Randy? What did I tell you about work, man?”

Quinn laughed. Mikey had a lickable ass, but the rest of him didn’t interest Quinn much. “I’m here.”

“Got it. You’re on the clock.”

“Do I have resources?”

“Boss says he already cut the manager in. The boys told him you wouldn’t need a crew.”

“Did they, now? And what the hell do they know about it?” Seriously, you give someone a few too many steroids and put a gun in their hands, and they suddenly think they know everything. Those muscle boys were big and dangerous, no question, but they were dumber than a sack of hammers. Their combined IQ wouldn’t buy you a cup of coffee. Quinn, on the other hand, was an artist. What the boys did took brawn. His job was far more delicate. It required a keen mind and fastidious attention to detail. What could he say? It was hard to be humble.

“Make sure you talk to Davis. The room’s paid up for two days.”

“Perfect.” Unless those boys chopped their target into little pieces or pulled another Jackson Pollock, two days was more than enough time to set this derelict flophouse to rights. “I’ll check in again in an hour or so.”

“Later.” Mikey hung up.

Surveying the premises from the parking lot didn’t improve Quinn’s assessment one bit. This place was the very definition of shithole. The roof was warped, the siding moldy, and the main office wasn’t really an office at all—it was just a glass window with a fucking pass-through. Chances were good he was looking at bulletproof glass, too. Classy. He took note of the surveillance camera over the window as well.

Erring on the side of caution, Quinn left the car running and the driver’s side door open. He knocked on the thick glass, summoning a small man with greasy hair, dirty fingernails and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He squinted at Quinn. “Yeah?”

“I’m here for three-twenty-nine.”

The guy nodded. “Heard you was comin’. I’m Davis.” He slipped a key into the pass-through.

Quinn shook his head. “I’m not touching that. You let me in.”

Davis sighed. “I don’t want nothin’ to do with nothin’.”

“You wanna keep that paycheck?” Quinn asked, pulling his Beretta off his hip and holding it flat against the glass. “Or see what’s behind door number two?”

Davis sighed. “Right.” He took the key and disappeared back into the office, appearing again in the breezeway.

Quinn nodded and got back in his car. He’d be damned if he was going to let his baby out of his sight. He drove her down the length of the building again and parked outside room number three-twenty-nine, then pulled his kit off the front seat and got out of the car. “Don’t go anywhere, beautiful,” he said, polishing a fingerprint off the driver’s side door. Yep. Pretty sweet ride.

While he waited for Davis to catch up, he dropped his kit on the concrete slab outside the motel room door and took out a pair of latex gloves. After pulling them on with practiced ease, he tugged his gun from his belt again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Davis called nervously, picking up his pace. He’d gotten the wrong idea, but Quinn was fine with that if it lit a fire under his ass. Davis put the key in and hastily unlocked the motel room door.

“Thank you,” Quinn said, tapping the gun against his thigh for effect. “Now. The surveillance camera—”

“Hasn’t worked in years. It’s not even hooked up to anything. I just keep it there so people think—”

“Fine. You can go now.”

Davis turned and hurried back into the office.

Quinn chuckled. This really was a great location. If Davis stayed nervously respectful, his motel could see some repeat business. Davis could even make enough money to put some lipstick on this pig.

The metal door to number three-twenty-nine looked as though it had been kicked in more than once in its lifetime. The jamb was bent, the doorknob sat at a bit of an angle and rust had eaten through the olive paint in several places. Quinn gave the knob a turn and it protested weakly, but then the door swung away from him.

He held his gun up near his face, sighting down the barrel as he scanned the room. Satisfied, he put the piece back in his belt and went inside, closing and locking the door behind him. The motel room was a pit. The bed was hollow, the drapes hung unevenly and were a hideous shit brown, and the carpet was industrial, worn with the traffic of many feet, and looked like vomit. He noted the older model TV, a tall lamp in one corner and a ragged-looking lounge chair underneath that. He squinted at what he supposed was meant to be art hanging on the wall over the bed. He sure saw a lot of fucking shit in this room.

What he did not see was a body.

With a shake of his head, he moved to the closet and pulled it open. Nada. He figured that the target must be in the bathroom, which was certainly considerate of the boys, as it was much easier to wash away the evidence in there. He stepped through the bathroom door and turned on the light.

“Mmr!”

Quinn’s eyes flew open wide. “What the fuck?”

Title: Linchpin
Published by: Pride Publishing
Release Date: May 2, 2017

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!

 

 

Whence He Came

3When Elliot Cohen left his small town for college in the big city, he was expecting to do big things. He wanted to pull his feet out of the quicksand he called home and go where everything was bigger, brighter, and just moved faster. He planned to claim a little fame, a lot of money, and a high-powered, influential lover.

Well he found fame, he found money, and he even found a famous lover, but nothing turned out quite as he’d planned. And all the while, no matter how hard he tried, he never forgot Tony, the sweet, closeted boyfriend he left behind. He could even remember Tony's scent seven years later. So when the illusion that was his perfect life unravels and fame slips through his fingers, he knows just where he needs to go. Home.

But he's going to have to untangle the complicated and embarrassing web of lies he's woven and seek forgiveness if he has any hope of winning Tony back.

Genre: ,
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EXCERPT

Jenny laughed, though, saving him from having to reply. "You're embarrassing him, Daddy. Nobody wants to be famous all the time. He's just the same old Elliot here. Right, Elliot?"

"Thanks, Jenny." That's exactly what he wanted.

Mr. Davis snorted. "Well, welcome home, 'same old Elliot'. Glad to see you haven't forgotten the little people," he said, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Hungry?"

"My mother stuffed me with pastrami. How about some coffee?"

"You got it." Jenny nodded. "Come on."

He sat on one of the bar stools at the counter and watched Jenny pull a mug from the stack next to the coffee pots. She had always been a pretty girl. Elliot remembered her being shy and sweet, well dressed and friendly. She had been a cheerleader and played the flute in the high school orchestra, and she had always worked weekends for her dad at the diner. Her father had raised her by himself because her mother passed away when she was young. The fact that Jenny's mother had died was never a secret, but to this day Elliot had no idea know how or why, or exactly how old Jenny had been when it happened, despite how close they'd always been. It just wasn't a question he'd ever wanted to ask.

Jenny set a cup of coffee in front of Elliot and leaned across the counter. "So. You see Tony, yet?"

At his age, after everything he'd seen and done in the 'big city', after all the men he'd fucked and been fucked by, he'd have bet real money that he was too jaded ever to blush again. And yet, Elliot felt the heat rise in his cheeks as Jenny said Tony's name, as if she were privy to his private fantasies. A picture of Tony, smiling impishly and looking flushed, flashed through his mind and that only made the moment worse.

He tried to sound casual as he answered, despite the display. "He's still in town?"

"Oh, yeah. He's still in town." Jenny's tone made Elliot look up from his coffee. She was grinning at him in a knowing way.

"What?"

Jenny pushed away from the counter. "You'll see."

Elliot couldn’t imagine what she was up to. "Is he married?"

"No," Jenny laughed. "Oh, no."

"He's single?"

"At the moment."

"Is he still living up on Whitehall?"

"Oh, no." Jenny was slicing something that was half-hidden by the register and he couldn’t see. "No, he's got his own place now, a house over on Mulberry."

"Mulberry? Is that still a nice part of town?"

"Yep. He's got a big old Victorian. It's nice. He's doing well."

"What does he do?"

"He bought the hardware store from Mr. Barrett."

Wow, Elliot mused, Tony owned the hardware store. He had just walked right by there not fifteen minutes ago. "God, Mr. Barrett must be older than dirt now." Mr. Barrett had seemed old seven years ago.

"Ninety-three!" Jenny nodded, sounded awed. "Can you believe that? He still walks down to the store to check on Tony every day." She turned around and held a plate out in front of Elliot at about nose-height. It had an obscenely large piece of pie on it.

"Oh my God." Elliot's eyes went wide.

"Lemon meringue. Your favorite," Jenny sang, setting the plate down in front of him.

"Get a fork. You're sharing."

Title: Whence He Came
Published by: JMS Books LLC
Release Date: May 6, 2017

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!

Creative Process

Best-selling thriller author Reese Kelsey knows his career isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t work the normal nine-to-five, and sometimes his characters take hold and demand all his attention, causing him to neglect important appointments… and lovers. Rather than go through another heartbreak, Reese contents himself with his small circle of friends—fellow gay New York City artists—and his dedicated publicist, Chad.

Until he sees Owen Mercado lugging his cello toward the subway and impulsively offers him a ride.

Owen has worked long and hard for a career in the symphony, and success comes with a demanding schedule—something Reese understands. Their desires and lifestyles are surprisingly compatible, and Reese and Owen certainly set the bedroom on fire. They’re both carrying baggage, but they fit, and it’s hard not to hope for a future that once seemed impossible.

But when Reese’s work inevitably pulls him into its dark world and refuses to let go, Owen draws a hard line, and Reese discovers he can't rely on good intentions alone. He will have to control the obsession that drove his other lovers away or risk losing Owen as well.

Genre: , ,
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Chapter I

THERE WAS blood everywhere. It stained the walls, pooled on the floor, soaked into the duvet. Blood splattered violently over the nightstand and the windowpanes and seeped darkly into the curtains. A grisly trail led from the bed, across the rug, and through the door into what was likely a bathroom. The bathroom light was on, and a sliver of bright light sliced through the darkness of the bedroom, cutting past the partially closed bathroom door.

Detective Harris tensed and drew his sidearm. He stood in the entry to the bedroom and turned on his flashlight, aligning it with the barrel of the gun to get a closer look around the room. It was his third gory crime scene investigation in as many weeks and likely to be a vicious, senseless murder like the others. The brutal actions of a madman—a foul, premeditated murder in cold blood.

Harris held his breath as he searched the room for what he knew he was meant to find: the calling card of a psychotic serial killer.

He found it, of course: the photograph. A Polaroid shot of the victim the subject had pinned to the headboard with a scalpel that was stained from end to end, sticky with the woman’s blood. Below the snapshot the pillow was—

Below the snapshot the pillow was… what? The pillow was… well. He’d already used bloodstained, pooled, splattered, and trailed. What was left? Dripping? No, it wouldn’t still be dripping nearly twenty-four hours after it was shed. Tinted, drenched, colored, streaked, splashed?

Reese ran his hands through his hair. “Crap. Splashed, crusted, spattered…. Christ.” He planted both feet on the floor and shoved his chair backward. “Who the hell cares?” He stood up and walked away from his desk.

People cared, he knew. They did. People liked his books for the most part. Chad, his publicist, liked to remind him regularly that he was a “best seller,” a “genius,” and when Chad was feeling particularly cynical, “a cash cow.” The Ledger said his last thriller was “brilliant.” The Times called him “a pretty face with a deviantly twisted mind,” which, Chad assured him, was intended to be a compliment.

Reese paced behind his desk chair, up the length of the hardwood floor to the window that overlooked congested Sixth Avenue and then back again to the bookcase littered with reference materials, assorted jars of hard candy, and a shoebox full of hastily labeled flash drives.

His readers might like his work, but they didn’t sit in that chair day after day dreaming up images meant to make people cringe, to make men psychoanalyze the criminals and women double lock their doors at night. They didn’t go to sleep dreaming of sociopaths and wake up with visions of bloody bathtubs. At least he assumed they didn’t, or he’d be reading their work too.

Sometimes he hated it. Every time he finished a book he swore it would be his last, that he was tired of the twisted, tormented asylum of characters inhabiting his mind, talking to him in his sleep, in the shower, on the subway. But then a month, or six, or even a year later, another would take hold, and ideas would practically fly from him. His fingers would hammer on the keyboard at all hours of the day, words only lingering in Reese’s mind long enough for him to watch them appear on the laptop screen.

And other times, like right now, he would sit there, staring at the screen, trying to come up with a new way to describe insanity, depravity, and complete and utter gore.

Seriously, Reese yammered on in his own mind, how many ways could one describe—

“Congealed. That’s it. Congealed!” Reese scurried back to his chair and rolled toward his keyboard so hard that the armrests wedged themselves under the desktop. Fervently, he began typing.

…and below the snapshot, the pillow was stiff and heavy where the victim’s dripping blood had congealed.

“Or something.” Reese was fairly sure that congealed was the right word, but he flagged the sentence for his first round of edits. His cell phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. He ignored it.

Detective Harris holstered his weapon. The subject wouldn’t be here; that wasn’t his M.O. He’d have left roughly twenty-four hours prior and was, more than likely, already scoping out victim number four.

Harris pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the crime lab.

Reese’s landline started ringing.

“Evelyn, I need you. Again.”

Evelyn sighed heavily. “I’ll call the team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Reese swore. He took a moment to type:

[HARRIS/EVELYN (HILL) DISCUSS KNOWN DETAILS RE KILLER]

and then stood up, covering the expanse between his desk and the telephone in a few long strides.

“Hello?” He hated being interrupted.

“You’re late.”

Reese’s brow furrowed. “Chad?”

“Yes. It is Chad, your underappreciated publicist. Chad, the most handsome appointment book on the planet. Chad, your conscience—”

“Oh shit.” Reese hurried across his living room to the bedroom, where he stepped into a pair of loafers. “Where am I supposed to be?”

“Book signing. Eighty-Second and Broadway.”

“Right! I remember!” He didn’t. “At… that bookstore.”

“Barnes and Noble.”

“Right! I can be there in ten minutes.” It was only a few blocks away, but he’d have to run.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Christ, I’m coming, Chad! Stall for me. Be charming.”

“That’s what you pay me for, to be charming while I’m covering for your late ass.”

That wasn’t technically true. To the best of his knowledge, covering for his ass wasn’t in their contract, but if Chad wanted to believe it was, Reese had no plans to disabuse him of the notion. “Thanks,” Reese replied and hung up the phone.

REESE RAN. He ran so fast his loafers pinched him and the heels of his favorite but ancient leather shoes made loud scraping noises on the sidewalk. He ran until he was short of breath, until he got his shaking fingers on the tall, heavy door of the Barnes and Noble.

“Here!” he said to no one in particular, panting hard. “Made it.”

Then he took a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly in an attempt to regain his composure, straightened himself up, and went inside.

Mother. Of. God.

There were people—most of them women—everywhere. All over. A lot of people. People stood patiently in a seemingly endless line that snaked between rows and rows of books. The line turned a corner here and a corner there through the fiction section, wound around past the coffee bar, continued past the nonfiction and into self-help. There was a long table at one end of the store covered in tall stacks of his newest book, Tuesday, Bloody Tuesday, and next to that was a five-foot-tall rendition of the cover in all its red-and-black glory, the blood-spattered calendar and severed arm larger than life and twice as disgusting. Someday he’d get to have the actual final say on his covers. Chad promised blood sold his books, and his publisher seemed to agree, and since Reese hadn’t worried about a bill or checked to see if he could afford a vacation in over seven years, he had to assume they knew what they were talking about. Still, Reese wasn’t so sure he wanted the images on his covers to look like the stuff of nightmares, even if the writing actually was.

A hand hooked over his shoulder, and Reese turned to look, only to hear Chad’s urgent whisper in his ear. “Over here. Hurry, now, I’ve been able to keep the manager occupied rearranging the book table and planning some publicity shots, but I’m fresh out of small talk, Reese. It’s your turn. Do that voodoo that you do.”

Reese allowed himself to be dragged off to another table not far from the one where his books were stacked. He was maneuvered into a chair and handed a red Sharpie—bloodred, Chad thought it was cute—and then the onslaught began.

“Mr. Kelsey! Mr. Kelsey! Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m first in line. Oh God, I’ve been here since last night. I watched them piling your books on that table at six thirty this morning. I can’t believe I’m first. God, I love your books.”

He forced a smile. “Name?”

“Oh, Linda. Linda Hurley. Oh God. Oh! Wait!” Linda, as she called herself, reached out and stopped his hand before his pen hit the title page. “I brought a pen. A new one, because, well, you know. I hope you don’t think that’s too…. Well, of course you do, but would you anyway? Use mine? Here.” Linda held her own red Sharpie in front of his nose.

“Why, certainly,” Reese said smoothly, taking the pen carefully and ignoring his own little inner psychopath who was sending him images of Linda with the red Sharpie through her eye socket. He put her pen to use. Thank you for being first, and for losing sleep over me. Fondly, Reese Kelsey. His signature, if properly deciphered, actually read something more like Rs Kely, the letters in between scrawled to such a degree as to be completely illegible. Reese handed the book, and the pen, back to the woman called Linda Hurley.

“Oh! Oh. Thank you. Thank you! I just love your books, thank—”

“Next!” Chad bellowed from behind him. Thank goodness for Chad; Reese might have managed to go all afternoon without a headache had it not been for him.

 

AN HOUR or so later, Reese was getting punchy.

“Listen, sweetheart, here’s ten bucks. If you go over to that coffee bar right there and buy me a nonfat caramel macchiato and a big fudge brownie, I’ll make sure you get a poster. I’ll have Chad here sign it too.”

“Reese,” Chad protested weakly.

“Oh, wow. Okay!” The woman nodded and bounded off. He couldn’t remember her name. He’d signed maybe a hundred books or more, and all the women looked the same now. Linda, Susan, Christina, Abigail, Sarah, Margaret, Elizabeth… who knew anymore? As he signed the next few books and listened to his fangirls babble at him, he kept one eye on Errand Girl. She kept glancing over her shoulder and giggling every now and then while she waited for his coffee, and before too long she was making her way back toward him, goodies in hand.

“Pamela,” a woman said, holding her copy of his book out toward him. “If that’s too long you can just say Pam.”

Reese smiled at her. “Nonsense, Pamela,” he replied in a goofy voice. “You paid good money for my book. The least I can do is scrawl three or four extra letters in it for you.”

Pamela smiled back.

“Caramel macchiato!” Errand Girl sang and reached out to set the coffee down on the table in front of Reese just as he was handing the signed book back to Pamela-with-all-six-letters.

“You have a very—Oohhhhhh, shiiiiiit.” Everything suddenly went into slow motion. Reese shoved the book toward Pamela, smacking it squarely into the side of the cardboard cup of hot coffee. The lid popped off, sending caramel macchiato upward and outward away from Reese. Errand Girl’s arms flew into the air, and she screamed. Pamela screamed. Chad, damn him, also screamed. Pamela fumbled with the book but lost her balance, falling away from the table. Reese made a desperate dive for the cup of coffee as if he were trying to save the precious Heart of the Ocean from going overboard. Something, something that Reese later learned to be Errand Girl’s purse, smacked him squarely between the eyes. A flash of white pain hit him, and the world spun. The bookstore’s fluorescent lighting swirled, and then everything went black.

Pages: 206
Title: Creative Process
Published by: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: September 25, 2017
ISBN13: 978-1-63533-841-6

 

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Deviations: Domination

Series: Deviations
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen

In this sequel to Deviations: Submission, Dom Tobias and Sub Noah are back, learning more about each other and their relationship, testing the boundaries of what they can and cannot handle, both together and apart. Tobias works at becoming more comfortable and finding his balance as a full-time Master again. Meanwhile, his work brings out the true submissive in Noah, who faces some of his greatest fears, and his greatest secrets, confessing to Noah about a terrible time in his past. He's not the only one who has a rough time. Tobias breaks down and shows Noah he's not all dominance, too, which sends shockwaves through their romance, leaving them to wonder if they can keep it together. With a deep exploration of the BDSM scene, secondary characters who shine, and a romance that has the reader rooting for these men from the start, Deviations: Domination is one book you can't miss. Authors Chris Owen, writer of the popular Bareback, and Jodi Payne, writer of String of Pearls have done it again.

 


Also in this series: Submission, Domination, Discipline, Bondage, Safe Words
Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT FROM DOMINATION

Wednesday. It had been a long, drawn-out week, and Tobias couldn't believe it was still only Wednesday.

He'd had a full day, out of town as usual in the morning, helping a mare to foal. She threw a beautiful dark bay colt that presented very much like his particularly handsome sire, and Tobias had considered making a bid for him right then and there but restrained himself. He was already training Noah; he didn't need another colt to complicate their weekends. Things were busy enough in his life without adding a new horse to his stables, a new responsibility to his already full plate.

In the few weeks since he'd met Noah at his club, Tobias had swung from one rush of feeling to another. Sexually, they were more than compatible, Noah's natural submissive tendencies meshing well with Tobias' own need to dominate. It went deeper than just mere sex, however, and in very short order Tobias and Noah had signed a six-month contract binding them together in a more tangible power exchange.

It was serious, it was important, and it was very heady. Tobias found almost all of his time taken up with thinking about his new submissive, lost in plans and a fair number of daydreams. It made his hours working as a large animal veterinarian seem almost relaxing by comparison. He only hoped that Noah's daydreams were confined to when he wasn't in his patrol car -- a police officer with his mind on his relationship wasn't good for anyone.

When Tobias walked in the door of his uptown condo, he set his keys down on the hall table and hit the play button on the answering machine as he pulled off his boots. After a long beep a rich male voice began to speak. ''Hello, Tobias, it's Bradford. I haven't seen you or your boy around the club in nearly a month. I trust this is a good sign? I'd like to get together and hear about how things are going. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am checking up on you; don't get your knickers in a twist, friend, it's just that... well, I worry. Oh, thank you for sending me a copy of your contract, I've put that in your files. Give me a call, Tobias, and let's have dinner. I'd like to catch up.''

Tobias sighed ruefully and nodded to himself. On some level he'd expected the call, though he hadn't really thought about it in terms of Bradford checking up on them. Still, it wouldn't be a trial to talk about Noah and where things stood at the moment; in fact, he'd welcome another perspective. He had a plan for the weekend and it might be a good idea to talk it over with someone who knew them both.

After stopping in the kitchen long enough to determine that he needed to order out for dinner, Tobias picked up the phone and called Bradford's direct line at the club. If the man didn't pick up, he'd at least be able to leave a message.

''Hello?'' Bradford was a man who'd done very, very well for himself. Part of his success was due to the fact that he could always be relied upon to respect the anonymity and privacy of his members and guests. Case in point, he never answered the phone with his own name or the name of the club, just a simple, discreet greeting, giving away nothing until he knew who was on the other end of the line.

''Good evening, Bradford,'' Tobias said with a smile. ''I got your message, Mother.''

''Ah, sonny-boy, so good to hear from you.'' Bradford snorted. ''Don't give me that crap, Tobias. I set the two of you up, you're both important members, and I want to know how it's going for you. That's called integrity, hmm? Trust me, I haven't a maternal bone in my body.''

Tobias grinned, not buying it for a moment. ''Sure. Whatever you say. You can stop worrying, though; things are fine.'' He crossed to the big window in his living room and looked out at the city lights, counting blocks until he found Noah's.

'''Fine' is such a drab, generic word, Tobias. Tell me what you really mean,'' Bradford encouraged.

''I mean... fine. Good. Great. He's coming along nicely; we've established a base level trust, I think.'' He turned and leaned on the window sill, facing the room. ''He had dinner with Phantom last week.'' Tobias resisted the urge to cringe at the thought of the two men, his new lover and his past lover, chatting happily over dinner. They both tended toward the unpredictable, and that worried him.

''Oh, yes, I know he did. That's part of the reason for my call. I gather it went well? Phan thought he was 'hot.''' Bradford loved gossip and made himself privy to all the rumors around the club. At first glance one might call it catty, but Tobias knew better -- he was simply protecting his own.

''It seemed to go well. Noah was fine when I saw him later. Calm, steady... he seemed to think Phan was -- look, how deep do you want to go here? I'd rather do this in person if you're looking for a long debrief. If you're just needing quiet assurances, both Noah and I are fine. The weekends are going well, and we're in touch through the week as well.''

Tobias knew as soon as he spoke that he'd sounded snappish and protective and that Bradford wouldn't miss it. The trouble was, he wasn't sure why he suddenly felt like pulling back -- and that meant he needed to talk it out. He sighed. ''Damn circular logic,'' he muttered.

''Tobias,'' Bradford sighed and made a clicking sound with his tongue. ''Be my guest tomorrow night for dinner. Here. What would you like to eat? I'll make sure it's prepared for you.''

Tobias rolled his eyes, safely several miles out of Bradford's view. ''Something gentle. Linguini in clam sauce?'' He hoped the tacit acceptance would be enough.

''Done. I look forward to seeing you, Tobias, it's been long enough,'' Bradford said softly, and Tobias could practically hear the man's very genuine smile.

He found himself smiling in reply. ''I'll see you tomorrow night, old friend. Around seven, I think.'' He hung up and turned once more to look out over the city, watching the cars cruise along Lincoln, toward downtown and Noah.

Title: Deviations: Domination
Published by: Pretty Muses Publishing
Release Date: October 29, 2016 (Second Edition)

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Deviations: Discipline

Deviations Discipline Jodi Payne Chris OwenSeries: Deviations
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen

Tobias and Noah explore their relationships more deeply than they ever have, not just with their own dominance and submission, but with their friends. As Noah helps Tobias through the loss of someone dear, he finds Tobias helping him, too, leading him through some intense sexual games, breaking down the last of Noah's fears, and helping him face his biggest one. The cage. Meanwhile, Tobias' ex-lover, Phantom, becomes close friends with Noah as they discover and try to resist the simmering sexual tension between them. Their teasing turns to real support when Phantom reaches the breaking point thanks to the lack of a master in his life, something he desperately needs. While Bradford works to become that master, Tobias and Noah go to Paris, where they see the sights, go to sex clubs, and re-negotiate their contract. Returning from Paris to their own lives brings then all sorts of new difficulties, from deciding whether they should love together to trying to figure out just where Phantom belongs in their ever-changing relationship. Deviations: Discipline is the third book in the popular Deviations series, which begins with Deviations: Submission, and Deviations: Dominance. Chris Owen and Jodi Payne have another winner on their hands, a gripping, emotional tale that you won't want to miss!


Also in this series: Submission, Domination, Discipline, Bondage, Safe Words
Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT FROM DISCIPLINE

Tobias cursed as he came across yet another torn up intersection. Traffic was a mess all through the downtown core, and his frustration level was rising with every one-way street he had to navigate. He was going in a circle, he just knew it, and Lincoln Avenue was always just out of reach.

The trouble, he decided, wasn't so much the damn construction as the sheer idiocy of the drivers who simply wouldn't get out of his way and let him get home. "It's not even close to rush hour," he muttered, talking out loud in uncharacteristic frustration and trying to ease around yet another truck offloading dirt or equipment or something. He hit the gas and then the brakes as a woman in a PT Cruiser cut him off and gave him the finger.

"And you would think," he added, "that with all this crap going on... I could at least lose this fucking erection." An incredibly persistent one at that, one that had been with him to varying degrees since he'd woken up from a morning dream about Noah and new leather wrist cuffs that had complex and intriguing chains dangling from them. He'd been hard off and on since then, and his body was definitely settling on full hardness at the moment.

He took another breath and looked around at the traffic as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his irritation growing. "But no. Not today. Today, I'm cursed with an iron dick, a schedule that's opened up, a submissive at work, and endless traffic. God damn it!" He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and a miracle happened: the road in front of his car emptied.

So he hit the gas and took off, heading for home. The sudden siren and flashing lights in his rearview mirror made him glance down at the speedometer in dismay. "Ah, shit." With a sigh he pulled over and undid his seatbelt.

A chest in uniform appeared at the driver's side window. A knuckle tapped on the glass, and Tobias rolled down the window, stifling another sigh. The cop had one hand on his gun. As if Tobias could make a bid for freedom in this traffic.

"License and registration, please," a voice requested in an official tone, and Tobias dutifully reached for the glove compartment. "Wait a minute." The cop rested an arm on the door and ducked to see better into the car. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," Tobias groaned, his head falling back on the seat. "Yes. Too fast. Would you like to know why, Noah?"

"That's 'Officer Dolan,' sir, and, yes. Yes, I would." Noah grinned widely.

Tobias rolled his eyes. "Well, you see, Officer Dolan, I have a smart-mouthed lover whom I can't get out of my head." He pointed to his lap. "I was in rather a rush to call him. Or at least think about him in private."

Title: Deviations: Discipline
Published by: Pretty Muses Publishing
Release Date: October 29, 2016 (Second Edition)

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Deviations: Bondage

Deviations Bondage Jodi Payne Chris OwenSeries: Deviations
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen

Noah and Tobias come back from Paris with a renewed contract and a deeper personal bond. Too bad things don't go as smoothly at home. When they get back, they face a crisis that might just threaten their contract, and their personal intimacy.

The crisis has a ripple effect, but Tobias and Noah finally learn that they can evolve with it, instead of collapsing. They experiment with scene after scene, making them longer, deeper, which allows them to explore more than they've ever dared. They even explore moving in together.

When Noah is forced to face the danger of his job, he starts to question why he became a cop. Tobias is also questioning his job. Soon enough, their external life is changing enough that they're forced to lean on each other to sustain them. Can they achieve a comfortable balance between their outside life, their scenes, and their love?


Also in this series: Submission, Domination, Discipline, Bondage, Safe Words
Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT FROM BONDAGE

Noah didn't have much in the way of souvenirs from his vacation in Paris. He didn't have a tan to show off, or a tattoo. He didn't have a shelf full of knickknacks or a stack of postcards. But he did have a pair of worn-in chaps, a couple of very nice welts from his Master's whip on his back, and some great stories. Even his pictures, the few he had taken, had come out fairly well.

Dinner was spaghetti. It was a simple meal; after eating out every night for a week he was ready for simple again. He hoped Phan would bring his usual bottle of Coke, of course. Beyond that, he'd made no plans for the evening, thinking that Phan might have something to unload if things were shaky with Bradford, Phan's provisional Dom. When the doorbell rang, Noah found himself hurrying to answer it.

Phantom grinned and bounced at him as soon as he'd opened the door, the bag with the Coke thumping solidly against Noah's back as Phan hugged him. "Oops, sorry! Hey, missed you! God, it smells great in here," Phan babbled at him, all smiles. He was dressed in loose jeans, which was a change for him, and a fuzzy sweatshirt that smelled like incense. "Have a good trip?"

They were still in the hall, for God's sake.

Phan had a way of making Noah smile despite himself. Sure, all this happy cheerful energy could be covering something, but for now it was fun and Noah went with it. "Oh, my God, Phan. I've never had a vacation like that. Paris is beautiful, and one of the kinkiest towns I have ever been in." He took Phan's bag and headed for the kitchen. "Come in, come in!"

"Paris? Really? Ah, you've never been to Rio." Phan was hard on his heels, one hand skimming Noah's back. "So? Pictures? Shopping? Did you go to the Louvre? The Eiffel Tower? Tell me everything! Well, not everything, just the highlights, but tell me everything. And feed me."

"I've never been anywhere until now. Sit!" Noah laughed and went to the stove. "Pictures are right there on the table. The Eiffel Tower was my favorite touristy thing, I think; the view and the evening air, it was romantic and beautiful and I felt like such a kid in love. The Mona Lisa was cool, too, I guess. But, Jesus, we had to wait in this long-ass line."

"The lady still draws a crowd," Phan said absently and Noah looked over to see him rifling through the photos. "God, it's beautiful," Phan said, flipping to the next one. "Some of these are really nice, Noah."

"Thank you." Noah put a pile of pasta in the center of Phan's plate and then one on his own. "Did you check out the one I got the other American tourists to take of us? That's my only picture of Tobias and me together; it came out pretty good, huh?"

"Uh-huh. You both look insanely happy," Phan said with a grin. "And he should always smile. Well, unless he's whipping your ass; it wouldn't work so well then, but you know what I mean." Phan looked through a couple more photos and finally set them aside. "He looks good," he said simply. "So do you."

"Thanks." Noah smiled at Phan, who looked a little thin to Noah, but he couldn't be sure, so he decided not to say anything about it. "It was such an amazing week. I have a couple of other things to show off, but eat first." Noah handed Phan a serving pitcher of sauce. "That's homemade, but quickly. I didn't stew it all day like I should have. Hope it's okay."

"If it's got garlic, it'll be good. You worry too much." Phan grinned again and dug into his plate with flattering speed. "So, what's this other stuff you wanna show off? Sir buy you presents?" He winked outrageously and took another mouthful. "Mm. Good."

"One or two notable ones, yeah." Noah had planned to wait until they were done eating, but he was too proud of his marks not to show them off. "Look." He stood up, turned his back to Phan, and tugged his sweater up to his shoulders. "Bullwhip. In public, in this club that was so strict I wasn't allowed to speak at all."

There was dead silence behind him and then he heard Phan's chair scrape back. "Shit," Phan breathed, and warm fingers traced around the mark on his right shoulder. "That's... wow. Not at all? God, did you make it?"

"I don't remember breaking the rule, but Sir says that sometime after the whipping, when he finally let me get off, that I was begging. Honestly? All I remember is that I needed the fucking cock ring off, and then just feeling a lot better and waking up from dozing in his lap. Can you believe that?" He didn't turn around, letting Phan explore the marks. "It was tough. I didn't really like the rule. I mean, I get not speaking to other people, but not being able to speak even to him, or to respond to his crop or the whip, I didn't like that at all."

"Yeah, it's always better to yell," Phan agreed. He was tracing the other mark, his fingers gentle and soft. "Christ." A moment later he cleared his throat and stepped back. "Did you get punished for losing it at the end?" he asked, going back to his plate, a little slower than he had been moving before.

"Oh, yes. But not for a day or so; my ass was way out of commission for about twenty-four hours." Noah smiled as he remembered taking Tobias in the hot tub, but as much as he'd like to brag about it, that moment had been so intimate, physically and emotionally, that he couldn't bring himself to say a word about it. It was private, and better kept just between Tobias and him. He lowered his sweater and sat down again, then picked up the bottle of Coke and poured himself a glass. "It was just... an incredible trip.

"Sounds like," Phan said with a grin and a nod. "Shame to come home from something like that, sometimes. Oh, did you sign? Bradford wouldn't tell me anything." He set down his fork and reached for his own glass as Noah passed him the bottle.

Title: Deviations: Bondage
Published by: Pretty Muses Publishing
Release Date: November 6, 2016 (Second Edition)

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Safe Words: A Deviations Novel

Series: Deviations
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen

In Safe Words, which picks up where the Deviations series left off, Tobias, Noah and Phan are all working on finding their place, both at Bradford's club and in their personal lives. They're all living together, and Tobias has taken on the roll of full-time Dom, which he loves, but finds incredibly challenging. While Noah finds comfort in the new state of things and is looking forward to deeper submission, but Phan is finding it harder to strike a balance. Too many changes happening too fast are making Phan act out, and neither Tobias nor Noah are sure how to deal with it. Life is not perfect for Bradford, either, as he discovers new feelings for his sub Nikki. Can Tobias help his friend, manage his job teaching the other Doms, and his relationships with Noah and Phan, or will the house that he's built for himself fall down around their ears? The Deviations series includes: Deviations Submission, Deviations Domination, Deviations Discipline and Deviations Bondage.


Also in this series: Submission, Domination, Discipline, Bondage, Safe Words
Genre: , ,
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EXCERPT FROM SAFE WORDS: A DEVIATIONS NOVEL

Tobias leaned in the doorway, one shoulder against the jamb and his arms folded over his chest, watching silently. He was wearing riding clothes, intending to go for a ride on his horse, but he hadn't yet made it down the stairs to the lower level of the farmhouse.

Instead, while dressing, he'd heard the clink of free weights coming from the newly created workout room, and, a little too like Pavlov's dog for comfort, he'd gone there instead.

Tobias had a weakness for watching Noah exercise. Noah had kept himself in insanely good shape after leaving the police force, maybe even better than he had done while working for the law. He tended to do a lot of work without his shirt on since his change of employment, and while he wasn't ripped and cut, he was certainly firm and tight. Tobias rarely missed a chance to look his fill.

"You're in here early," Tobias said, watching Noah's arms curl so his biceps flexed.

Noah glanced up at Tobias briefly, then back at his biceps. "Nine, ten," he counted out loud. "Good morning. Thirteen..." He grunted his way through fourteen and fifteen, his teeth clenched and his brow furrowed.

Tobias found he had more than a passing appreciation for Noah's intensity, and he smiled to himself as he felt desire lick up his spine. It never failed -- Noah and weights, that was all it took. Well, Noah and just about anything, but the weights were a sure thing.

"I can't sleep alone," Noah explained, still panting. "In that great big bed." He gave Tobias a suggestive wink as he set the dumbbells back in their rack. "Plus, I'm heading into town today." He patted his face with a towel and smiled mischievously.

"I know." Tobias tried not to sigh. Usually, he had no issue at all with Noah having a day off from his duties as Tobias' submissive. Usually, Noah wasn't all sweaty and glossy from working out on his day off. "Do you and Phan have plans?"

Phantom, Tobias could hear, was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was his day off as well, but Phan didn't seem to think that Tobias was capable of making his own breakfast. Though why toast needed the noisy rattle of a frying pan on a gas range, Tobias didn't know.

"We do." Noah approached Tobias slowly. "Breakfast," he said, just as something clattered in the kitchen, "which you've no doubt noticed, and then shopping and a downtown, greasy dinner. This would be why I need the extra workout." He leaned close and kissed Tobias lightly on the lips. "Are you going to miss us?"

"I always miss you. Well, usually. There are times I'd happily send Phan to town just so he'd stop pinging around the house and making it hard for me to get paperwork done." Tobias slipped his arms around Noah and kissed him again. "But I suppose he does have a valid point that I'm supposed to do that sort of thing in my office and not here."

"Well, you did insist that Bradford give you that swanky office at the club and a very sturdy desk to keep all that paperwork organized. I have to admit I don't think of the farm as work, either. I tend to leave that mentality at the club. But I'm just a sub; who am I to tell my Master where to do his work, right?"

Tobias snorted. "You do it all the time."

Noah grinned. "But I pay the price."

"One of these days, I'll stop letting you get whatever you want." Tobias barely kept himself from laughing. Noah teased, but he was never actually bad; if there was something to discuss, they handled things far better that way than with mental tug of war. They both liked the teasing, however, and Tobias would have been bored with compliant and malleable submissives.

Even if having two of them was a bit of a handful at times.

Title: Safe Words: A Deviations Novel
Published by: Pretty Muses Publishing
Release Date: November 6, 2016 (Second Edition)

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Sexy To Go Gay Romance

Contributors: Jodi Payne, Avery Duran, Leigh Ellwood, Asta Idonea, Eva Lefoy, Dale Lowry, Shiloh Saddler, Sam Thorne, A.E. Wasp

Nine Hot M/M stories sexy enough to make your blood sing. Find shifters, hunky construction men, mythological heroes and everyday lovers who scorch the sheets with their man on man lovin’. From honeymooning couples to intense instant hookups, these gay couples remind us that love is always worth fighting for, no matter what the cost.

Handyman by Jodi Payne

Danny is haunted by memories of his ex, Peter, who moved out six months ago. He recognizes just how bad off he is when he wakes up to a flood in his condo, a problem Peter would have adeptly handled. Danny can't find the insurance paperwork, he doesn't know who he should call first, and he's about ready to strangle his stoner neighbors. His day starts looking up, though, when the workmen arrive to deal with the water, replace his breaker box and demolish the soaked ceiling. Ken, a handyman, shows up to handle the drywall, but can Danny handle Ken?

 

Genre:
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EXCERPT FROM HANDYMAN

"Well, everything is wet. I'll have to set up some blowers for a day or so, pull all the ruined stuff out, and then I can get back in there and put in some new walls and a new ceiling." Ken's voice was remarkably gentle for such a strong man. Danny would have expected it to be deeper and much more gruff.

"Okay," Danny said, still processing all the information. "What first?"

"First, I'm going to get you some blowers."

You'll do, Danny thought. "Okay."

"Tomorrow, I'll come back and see if I can start tearing out the old walls."

Danny nodded. "Sounds good."

"Mind if I use your phone? My cell died. It's charging in the truck. Damn battery won't hold a charge."

Danny pulled his cell out of his pocket. "No problem. Here."

"Hey, thanks." Ken nodded and smiled as he took the phone and Danny got a good look at his eyes. They were round and gentle, and blue as the Caribbean ocean. If Danny's cock could talk, it would have said, "wow," or maybe, "yes, please."

Ken dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. "Hey, it's Ken. Yeah, I need a couple of the big fans. Where? Yeah, okay. I'll come pick them up. Thanks." He handed the phone back to Danny. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Danny said much more smoothly than he'd thought himself capable of.

Ken tilted his head at Danny for a moment and then smiled, and Danny had a feeling that he'd just been made.

"I'm going to run out and get you those blowers," Ken explained, heading for the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

The first thing Danny thought was, 'I'll have dinner waiting, dear,' but he caught himself and just said, "Thanks."

"My pleasure," Ken looked him over from head to toe and then left.

Title: Sexy To Go Gay Romance
Published by: Sexy To Go
Release Date: April 1, 2017

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!