Linchpin

April 11, 2017 by
Genre: , , ,
Release Date: May 2, 2017
Pages: 106

"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.

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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: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09ZLXQ43R

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Just Dex

January 4, 2021 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #1
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: January 19, 2021
Pages: 570

Dexter is rudderless and headed down a dark path. Cyrus knows the young man has great potential, but will Dex let him prove it before it's too late?

When Dexter Appleton’s best friend Huck commits suicide, it damn near kills Dex too. Huck was a bull rider with a chaotic life, and leaves behind a big house, and a ton of unanswered questions. But Dex is just a simple guy, just a Texas cowboy trying to scrape together a life, and he can’t handle much more before he breaks.

Cyrus Hughes is a therapist whose Lifestyle patients have very particular needs. He’s shocked to learn that Huck is gone after meeting with him twice a month for years, and he didn’t expect to miss a client so much. When he heads to Texas to pay his respects, he instinctively feels protective of Huck’s anxious and unlikely best friend, Dexter.

The attraction between them grows, even long distance, until Cyrus insists he needs Dex with him in New York. Clinging to his last bit of hope, Dex takes a leap of faith and moves what little he still owns in with Cyrus, hoping to find his place in the world.

Their path is full of trial and error, triumphs and misunderstandings. Cyrus and Dex will have to adjust their expectations to create a life together…one where Dex understands that he is not “just” anything.

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Excerpt:

Dex let himself into Huck’s house, his hand shaking so bad that he missed the lock twice.

Twice.

Huh, you’d think he was a drunk on a three-day binge.

Maybe he would be soon. Who knew? Maybe he’d run away from Salado, drive down to Galveston, up to Beaver’s Bend, away. Maybe he’d just go home and have a long nap. Maybe he’d head to Sixth Street and play with the college kids.

Maybe.

He could hear the alarm deal when he opened the door, distantly, and he wandered to the keypad, turned it off. Huck could do it from his phone—got a kick out of turning it on when he was house sitting, in fact.

Dex stood there in the foyer, the sun pouring into the house, lighting all the wood up, the dust making patterns in the air.

There was an alligator.

A tulip.

A longhorn.

A leaf.

A noose.

His knees buckled and he hit the floor, hands slapping down so hard it hurt.

Suddenly it was like he was Huck, hanging from his bullrope in a hotel bathroom, throat closed, body going heavy and swollen, nasty with gas and bacteria and flies and…

“No.”

The scream that wanted out was just a tiny squeak, but it proved he was here. Here in Huck’s house. Here, waiting for somebody—anybody—to tell him what the fuck to do.

His best friend in all the world—the face he’d known from the nursery at First Baptist, the first guy he’d ever kissed, the person who quit the baseball team when he got thrown out. Huck.

Huck was dead.

Jesus Christ, Huck McNamara was dead, and Dexter was…not.

 

***

 

Tuesdays were quiet enough that Cyrus could sit at the bar. He hauled himself through the front door out of the rain and stomped the water off his boots, shivering for a second as the air conditioning hit him. His iPad was stuffed under his jacket to stay dry and had been tucked against his side so hard he thought maybe he’d bruised something.

Ironic. He’d managed not to pick up any new bruises all day despite his client being particularly needy.

The bartender gave him a wave, and he waved back before hanging up his coat on the pegs by the door.

Tuesdays should be Greg behind the bar, but Greg finally got cast in some new off-Broadway show Cyrus couldn’t remember the name of and might be at rehearsal.

He set his iPad down on the bar at his usual spot with a good view of both the TV and the door.

“Mr. Hughes. Always good to see you.” A mug of hot coffee landed on the bar along with a bowl of pretzels.

Not Greg. Good for him. “Oh, perfect. Thanks, Perry.”

“It’s a fresh pot. I’m mainlining it tonight. I pulled a double yesterday and picked up Greg’s shift tonight. I’m toast.” Perry leaned against the bar, blue eyes shining in the lights. Such a lovely young man.

“Well, I won’t bother you much. I have a little work to do.”

“Bother me when you’re ready for a break. This place is dead with the weather.” Perry winked at him.

“Okay.” Sounded like Perry wanted some company. He’d just get the pressing stuff done, then he could chat awhile.

He took a sip of his coffee and hummed as the warmth chased the last of the damp summer rain away. Then opened up his iPad. His calendar was full. He’d had inquiries from two potential new clients, but fitting them in would be a challenge. He looked his week over and shook his head. The rest of this week was impossible but maybe—

Well, maybe next Thursday if Huck didn’t answer his phone soon. Cyrus had been calling him since he no-showed last week. It was the first time in nearly two years that Huck had missed an appointment; the cowboy was as regular as the sunrise. Twice a month on a Thursday since the very first time they’d met. It was more than a little worrisome.

He pulled out his cell phone and found Huck’s number, trying it one more time.

“McNamara’s phone. What can I do you for?”

Damn, that was…odd. Now he was definitely worried. And curious.

Okay. Discretion. He found his professional voice. He’d done this lots of times. “Hello. I’m looking for Huck. Is he available?”

“Oh hell’s bells, am I talking to his therapist? That’s what comes up on the phone.” So, another Texan—lover? Family?

Therapist was pretty common. He found the different ways people referred to him so interesting. “Yes, it’s Cyrus Hughes. Who am I speaking with?”

“Dex. Dexter Appleton. I—” There was a shaky breath, a pause. “Damn, Sam. This never gets easier. Never. I’m sorry, buddy. Huck hung himself in Nashville. He’s gone.”

“He what?” What? He knew something was wrong, but he was thinking rodeo accident or that Huck was in a wreck. Cy covered his other ear and listened. “I—I’m…sorry for your loss.” Hung himself. Cyrus would never have—he had no idea Huck was— “Shit.”

“Yessir. The funeral’s planned here for Monday. I mean, if you want to come out. You in Austin or Dallas?”

“New York,” he said absently. “I’m in New York.” Huck. Why didn’t you call me?

“New—What? Did you say New York?” The shock on the other end of the line was…huge. Like he’d said he was from the moon.

“Where are you? What was he doing in Nashville? How could he have hung himself?” Right. He needed to stop talking before this Dexter guy hung up on him.

“I’m at Huck’s house. We’re outside Salado. He was at a bull riding, and he used his motherfucking bull rope.” The guy’s voice started to crack, and he heard Dexter take a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry. You need to know where to send flowers?”

“I think—” I think I need to be there. “When… When did you say the service was? Is it in…you said Salado?”

Perry glanced at him and he shook his head sadly, which made Perry come over and give his shoulder a squeeze. That was kind, but he really had no idea what he was feeling right now. He was in shock, obviously, as Dexter probably was as well. It definitely felt like real grief though.

“Monday afternoon at one. No viewing. Broecker here in town. I’m burying him next to his momma. Hold up.” There was a pause, and then, “Goddamn it, y’all! I am trying to deal with shit. Take that beer outside!”

He typed the date and time right into his calendar and the name of the town and the place into the notes. “Got it. I’m sorry, I won’t keep you. My condolences, I’m really very sorry.” He started to say that Huck was a good man, but what did he know really? He’d learned better than to assume. You’d think after all this time he’d know, but he didn’t.

“Thank you. I’m sure he, uh, he…liked you?” A soft chuckle sounded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how that works—therapists.”

“He did. He trusted me.” In his world, that was the highest compliment Huck could have given him. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

He hung up and set his phone carefully on the bar.

Perry looked at him seriously. “You okay, Cy?”

Cyrus shrugged reflexively. “I lost a…a client.” It was really strange to think that a man with as much fight in him as Huck would hang himself. Sure, Huck was obviously frustrated, maybe angry, but suicidal? Wouldn’t Cy have seen that?

Should he have?

“Shit. I’m sorry, man.”

He tossed a twenty on bar and pushed off his stool. “I’m going to head home.”

“I get it. Safe home, Cy.”

He scooped up his iPad, tucked it under his arm and stepped out into the rain.

He was nearly home before he realized he’d forgotten his coat.

Fuck.

He’d go back for it tomorrow.

Title: Just Dex
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08S1R8J3C
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-38-3

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Refraction: A Collaborations Novel

May 14, 2018 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, B.A. Tortuga
Series: Collaborations #1
Genre: , , ,
Release Date: January 10, 2020
Pages: 260

REFRACTION WILL RETURN SOON!

Texas artist Tucker Williams arrives in New York City for a gallery showing of his work and finds the city blanketed in snow. He meets free-spirited underwear model Calvin McIntire on the steps of the Midtown library and is captivated by a wild beauty that manages to compete with the demons that occupy his soul and fuel his work with their lust for blood and erotic imagery.

Unable to deny a new inspiration, Tucker sublets a studio and finds the city’s energy almost as addictive as Calvin. Tucker is obsessive, barely holding on to sanity as his art consumes him, and Calvin is dealing with demons of his own, trying desperately to protect his soul in a business where only his appearance has value.

They each prove to be the perfect remedy for the other’s personal brand of crazy until, in the midst of stress and exhaustion, they discover that a promise Calvin needs is the one thing Tucker can’t give him, and their heaven turns to purgatory.

Can both men find a path toward wholeness in Tucker’s beautiful but chaotic Texas home? In order for them—and their passionate relationship—to thrive, they’ll need to adapt, share their psychoses, and find a true balance between New York City and rural Texas.

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

Tucker Williams leaned against the steps of the library beside the big stone lion and watched the white stuff fall out of the sky. Colder than he’d ever been in his whole life, he shivered, trying to figure out what the fuck a guy like him was doing all the way up here.

The logical part of his brain, the part not frozen solid, reminded him that he had a gallery opening tomorrow. A major opening. Right.

So he was up here touristing all by himself and freezing his nuts and his toes off and waiting to show up in his best jeans and jacket tomorrow night.

Go him.

Christ on a sparkly pink crutch, everyone here wore black, and no one smiled a bit. Surely there had to be somewhere here with friendly folks and heat.

Right on cue, one of those black-clad Yankees—this one in a black knee-length coat, black earmuffs, and chunky black boots—came trotting down the steps right past him. Like every other guy on the busy street, he was on the phone.

“That spread is mine, Michael. I want it. You make it happen. I’ve got the best ass of the bunch, and you know it.”

The man stopped two steps below Tucker. “I’m easier to work with too. You tell them, okay? I need to get out of the weather. Who ordered this shit? Later.”

Huh. Earmuffs were a thing. Go figure. Tucker had to admit, the whole pseudo-duster thing was pretty hot.

“’Scuse me, sir, but is there a decent place to get a cup of joe around here?” Tucker asked.

The guy turned his head, but Tucker couldn’t get a good look at him behind the collar he’d pulled up against the weather. He was squinting against the snow, and his hair was mostly hidden under a knit hat, but it looked like it might be blond.

“There’s no such thing as a bad cup of coffee in New York. You look like you’re freezing your ass off, man. Come on, I’ll show you.” The guy just took off down the steps, and Tucker didn’t have much choice but to follow.

Good Lord and butter, these folks walked like huge flocks of birds. Great big old flocks of ravens. Oh. Oh, he could—he could paint that, right now.

“Calvin.” He was offered a gloved hand. Black leather, of course.

“Williams. Tucker Williams. Pleased.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and shook.

“Not from around here, I take it?” Calvin gave him wink and a grin.

Cool. This one smiled. “No, sir. I’m a bit from home, but that’s obvious, I reckon.”

“I’ll say. In here.” Calvin opened a door, and Tucker was hit with the smell of baking bread and a beautiful blast of warm air. “We’re expecting a pretty good hit. How long are you in town?”

“Until Monday.” Then he’d go explore somewhere else for a few days. Although, he loved that bird image….

“Well, if you haven’t been in the city in a snowstorm before, and it looks to me like you haven’t….” Calvin laughed. “You should know that you can’t get a cab in the snow. Ever. Don’t even bother trying. Get some boots and take the subway. Just coffee? I’m gonna hang out for a bit and eat something.” Calvin pulled off his earmuffs and squinted at the menu. “Large almond-milk latte with an extra shot and the vegetarian chili… and…?” He looked at Tucker.

“Triple espresso and whatever y’all have that’s the darkest chocolate.” No way he was going underground to get on a train. No way on earth.

“Mmm, chocolate. That’s one way to warm up.” Calvin pulled off his gloves and then fished a credit card out of his pocket. “On me. Well, on my agent. It’s a work day.” He held his card up to the reader until it beeped, and the card disappeared into his pocket again. “I’m gonna grab a seat. You headed back out there?”

“I think I’ll just sit a minute. Defrost.” Eventually he’d figure out how to get back to his hotel.

“Do that.” Calvin glanced over his shoulder as he headed for a table, and this time Tucker saw a flash of bright green eyes as they caught the light. “Tell me why you’re up here in this shitty weather?”

“I have a thing I have to be at Saturday evening. Everyone told me to come up a few days early and explore. What kind of agent?” He had one too. Her name was Marge. She was something else.

“Oh, Michael. He’s a talent guy.” Calvin stuffed his gloves into his pockets. “So you came out in this weather just to visit the library? Did you get a picture with the lions, because that’s a thing. Patience and Fortitude.”

“No, sir.” It was a cool library, though, and he’d spent a couple of happy hours in the 750s, just looking. Sort of like he was just looking at Mr. Pretty here. “Are you from here?”

Their order arrived, and Calvin waited to answer. “I grew up in Vermont. But I’m from here now. Got here when I was seventeen.”

“Wow. I wasn’t ready for something like this at seventeen.” He wasn’t ready for it now, he didn’t think. Although that motion…. Tucker wondered if a guy could rent a studio space for, like, a week. Just to paint.

Calvin looked at him. “Oh. Did I say I was ready?” He laughed and picked up his latte. “No, I had a job, but I wasn’t anything close to ready for this town. I adapted pretty quick, though. It’s home now.” He sipped his latte and then spooned up some “chili.” Didn’t seem like a great combination.

Shit, he was fairly sure that vegetarian chili was a crime against nature, but he was a stranger in a strange fucking land, so he didn’t remark none on it.

“Where are you staying? Oh—that’s nosy, right? You don’t have to answer that. Sorry. I was just making small talk.” Calvin giggled.

Yeah, Tucker was pretty sure that qualified as a giggle.

“How’s your chocolate?”

“Dark.” He licked his fork and hummed, the bitter and sweet exploding over his tongue. “Possibly the best piece of whatever-the-fuck fancy-assed piece of cake I’ve ever had.”

Calvin put his spoon down. “You’re good at that.”

“At eating?” He’d hope so. Lord knew, he’d done it for years.

“No, the tongue thing. With your fork. Licking.” Calvin braced his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, eyes narrow and a wicked smile on his lips. “Do that again.”

“Listen to you.” Lord have mercy. That was hotter than the hinges of hell. Damn, how did that… how did something like that even happen?

“Yes, listen to me.” Calvin sounded playful, and he shifted, picked up his latte, and took a sip. “Do it again, Mr. Williams? Please?”

“Well, since you asked so pretty.” Lord, please don’t let me get my ass kicked here. He took another bite, his cheeks lit on fucking fire. He licked his lips clean, then managed to meet Calvin’s eyes. “Ta-da?”

Calvin laughed and applauded, the sound pure happy. “Oh. That was lovely! So hot. You’re a riot, Tucker. I’m glad I pulled you out of the snow.” Didn’t seem like he was too worried about people overhearing, but then he leaned in closer. “Also, I think your cheeks are warm enough to melt that shit right off the sidewalk.”

“Y’think? Shit marthy. I can’t believe this mess.” That he was flirting like he knew this guy, like this feller knew him from Job.

“Wait until tomorrow morning. Might be eight or nine inches.” Calvin leaned back again and dug into his chili. “Might even be a foot. Hard to get around in this weather. Personally, I like to stay in bed all day.”

“Eight or nine inches, huh?” He couldn’t have stopped his expression if he’d tried.

“Mmm. Last I checked.” Calvin’s look was absolutely deadpan. “The weatherman doesn’t always get it right, though. Sometimes it’s a better idea to check out the radar for yourself, you know?” He took another bite and winked. “That might be carrying the metaphor a bit too far.”

He had to laugh, had to, because not only was that true, but he hadn’t expected to meet someone to flirt with shamelessly while on one of his wanders.

Calvin laughed with him. He got up to put his bowl in a rack by the garbage cans, and when he came back, still giggling, he shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair. “Warm finally.” He had on a tight green sweater that left almost nothing to the imagination. Every ridge and line of his chest was plainly obvious, and the fabric stretched across broad shoulders.

Pretty, pretty. Tucker liked that Calvin wore a color. The green suited him to the bone.

He could eat that fine son of a bitch up, yessir.

“In all seriousness, shit’s gonna close tomorrow. But the Empire State will be open and the World Trade Center, if you’re looking for a view and some local history. I’ve never been up to catch the view in the snow. I bet it’s pretty cool. You won’t have the same pictures as everyone else, anyway.”

Calvin’s phone started ringing. “Excuse me a sec?” He pulled the phone out of his coat pocket. “A-yo. Hey. No, I want the—well, you know my angle, whoever will pay me more. Oh, I’ve never heard that joke before, Michael. Ever. Yes, go with Calvin. Thanks, man.” He hung up. “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t mean to be keeping you from anything. Honest.” A man had to work.

“You’re keeping me from going insane in this snow. Keep up the good work.” Calvin sipped his latte again. “My agent thinks Calvin Klein jokes are funny. You can keep me from that any day.”

“Calvin Klein jokes? Like the drawers?” Those were still a thing? Lord have mercy. “Or don’t they do perfume too?”

Calvin laughed. “Cologne. And yes, they do that too, but you don’t get paid as well as you do for the underwear ads. Is that what you mean by drawers? They do jeans too, if that’s what drawers are.”

“Yessir. I mean tighty-whities. Is that what you do? Model?”

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t say that earlier. Sometimes people get… sometimes they forget they’re talking to a real person when you tell them, so I like to hold off a bit.” Calvin winked.

“No worries. I work with models, every now and again.” For the most part, he found them patient as fuck.

“Yeah?” Calvin was flirting again. “What did you not say you do again?”

“I’m a painter—not houses.”

“Okay, not houses. What do you paint? Landscapes? People? Abstract stuff? I love art that you have to look at and think about.”

“Uh. It’s sorta… it’s a little weird.” He didn’t tell a soul at home about the paintings that he was showing here. Not a soul.

“This is New York, my friend. We make weird an art form all the time. But it’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. I’m nosy. I just ask questions.”

“I sorta make a living painting about horror, sex. Right now, birds. I’m very into birds.” He didn’t know why he did either, but he did, and he was, apparently, damn good at it.

“Horror and sex and birds.” Calvin nodded, looking thoughtful. “Can’t quite picture it. But birds are probably great subjects. They’re so aloof and knowing.”

“Yeah? Cool.” Okay, so Calvin didn’t run screaming or tell him he was going to hell; that was a plus.

“You have a pic on your phone? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Fair enough.” Did he? Lord, yes. His phone was his goddamn life. He scrolled through, finding the album of his paintings.

“Deal.” It took Calvin about three seconds to pull up a picture of himself on a rooftop wearing a pair of blue boxer-briefs with DIESEL printed on the wide black waistband and a white tank top that he was lifting up around his ribs with one hand. City office buildings were blurred in the background. “No laughing.”

“Well, look at that. You have a nice heinie.” He could tap that, no question. “Was it hot up there?”

“Fuck, yeah. It was like working in a frying pan. They would spray the roof with a hose to cool it off, and it would dry in three seconds, and then they had about fifteen seconds before I started screaming.” Calvin laughed.

“Lord. You got some balls, I swear. I got nothing but respect for the work y’all do.” He personally thought posing was hell. He didn’t do still. Ever.

“Well, thank you.” Calvin beamed at him. “I had ice cream that day as a reward, so it wasn’t that bad. Okay, your turn.”

He pulled up one of his demon series—a fierce horned beast appearing from between white feathers, the mouth promising pure decadence.

“Oh. Oh my.” Calvin reached out and took the phone from him to get a closer look. “Fuck, man. This is way hotter than ‘horror and sex and birds’ sounded. I mean, Jesus. Look at him. You do this? You look way more… I mean, not like this. I would never have guessed. Wow.”

“No one does. That’s probably good, hmm?”

Calvin flicked his eyes from the phone to Tucker’s face. “Yes and no. I mean, you should look how you want to look, but man, the artist that does this work? With a body like yours? You could seriously rock something… way darker.”

“I tend to work buck naked. Saves clothes.” Wait. Did he say that? Out loud?

Calvin’s eyes popped open wide, and he started to laugh. Hard. Loud enough that people looked over at them, and he had to wave his hand to apologize because he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

He managed to just drink his coffee, keeping a mostly straight face. This guy let folks take his pictures in his skivvies; working naked was nothing.

Calvin silently handed Tucker back the phone, fanning himself with his other hand. He finally got a deep breath and puffed it out, grinning. “Jesus Christ. I don’t know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. But that’s cool; I do some of my best work naked too. I just don’t get paid for that.” He winked and picked up his coffee. “Shit, my sides hurt.”

“When you get it from laughing, that’s okay, I think.” He pocketed his phone and finished up his sweet. So rich and good.

Calvin blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Honest, I’m not. I’m laughing at how stupid I am for looking at a fairly clean-cut, good-looking Texan, and… I don’t know. I got it all wrong, obviously, and for some reason that makes me absurdly happy.” The blush and a little humility made Calvin look younger, sweeter.

He grinned, that smile charming the hell out of him. “Shit, honey. I’m just tickled you didn’t ask if I was an axe murderer.”

Calvin’s eyebrows twitched. “I figured that would be rude since you hadn’t asked me that question yet.” He finished off the last of his coffee, tipping the cup up high to get the last drop.

“Rumor is you folks have all the axe murderers you need.”

“More muggers and thieves than axe murderers, actually. I don’t think I know anyone that hasn’t been robbed at some point. Especially people who look like tourists.” Calvin laughed. “You better watch your wallet.”

He arched one eyebrow. He didn’t think he’d take real kindly to that. Of course, who the fuck did? Seriously. No one just threw themselves in front of someone and said, “Fuck with me!” right? Right.

“I do, but thank you. I appreciate that warning.”

“For what it’s worth, crime usually goes way down in the snow.” Calvin slid his empty cup a couple of inches away. “I am all out of coffee.”

He leaned around the table and checked out Tucker’s boots. “Are those waterproof?”

“They do okay, yeah.” More waterproof than cold proof, for sure.

“Good. Come on.” Calvin stood up, looking more like a model now that Tucker knew he was one, and pulled on his coat. “Sorry. Unless you have plans, of course.”

“Plans? I have to be at the gallery Saturday night. That’s my plan.”

“That’s it? God, the things I could do with you for two days.” Calvin brushed a little too close as he stepped around Tucker and didn’t even pretend it was an accident.

They headed back out into the snow and retraced their steps to the library. The white stuff was starting to pile up, maybe three or four inches now.

Calvin didn’t say much on the short trip, but as he got close to the library, he poked Tucker with an elbow. “You’re gonna love this.”

He heard voices and laughter as they rounded the corner of the big building and headed into the little park next to it, where a small crowd of people was having one big snowball fight.

“You ready?” Calvin took a few steps backward and then started to run.

It took Tucker a second, but he figured what the hell? He hadn’t wanted to play so bad in a long damn time.

            Tucker gave chase, a redneck yell filling the air.

Title: Refraction
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B083KMZ83B

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

Honeymoon in the Cards

January 6, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Sapphic #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: December 19, 2023

A Summit Springs shared-world Novel.

Honeymoon in the Cards is an FF (lesbian) romance featuring opposites attract and second chance romance between a Texas-born tarot card reader and a New York City ad executive, set in the fictional small town of Summit Springs, CO.

When Marissa wins a holiday honeymoon package at a ski resort in small town Colorado, she knows she has to call them and back out of the trip. She's not getting married, after all, since her girlfriend turned down her proposal.

When the ski resort's marketing manager convinces her to come anyway to save his job, though, she can't turn down a well-deserved vacation, even if it means pretending to be engaged for the photo opportunities. What she really doesn't expect is for the other party of the fake engagement to be someone she used to know.

Rebekka shows up in Summit Springs to help her brother out, so it comes as a shock when she has to pretend to be engaged to her old college girlfriend, Marissa. They couldn't be more opposite. Mari is by the book, high dollar, and kind of high maintenance. Bekka is a tarot reading earth goddess type who's a little scatterbrained. Can the two of them learn that they've both matured and changed into people who can really care for each other, or will their relationship end when the fake honeymoon is over?

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~iBooks~~Publisher~~Kobo~~Smashwords~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

Chapter 1 

Marissa listened to the phone ring, still not sure exactly what she was going to say when someone answered. It wasn’t every day one had to cancel a honeymoon, especially not a free one. 

She supposed that the lesson here was not to put the cart before the horse. After three years though, she’d thought it was reasonable to propose. She’d picked out a ring, made dinner reservations, she’d even hired a limo to take them to a hotel after Josie said yes. 

But Josie didn’t say yes. 

How long was this phone going to ring? Shouldn’t she have gone through to voicemail or something by now? 

Finally, a chirpy voice answered. “Pines Peak Resort, how can I direct your call?” 

“Oh. Well, I won a honeymoon package and I need to talk to—” She looked at the business card stapled to the folder full of brochures and information. “To Bryan Harker about it.” 

“Oh, of course. I’ll get him for you. Just a sec!” 

God, was anyone really that happy? 

She wasn’t. 

Even the hold music was cheerful. How annoying was that? 

She was just about ready to drop her cell phone down the garbage disposal when someone finally answered. 

“Marketing.” 

“Bryan Harker, please?” 

“Yep. Hang on.” 

Oh god. She was being put on hold again. 

She was going to bite something. Hard. Hopefully hard enough that her cheating bitch of an ex felt it. 

“This is Bryan. Can I help you?” 

“Yes. Hi, Bryan. This is Marissa Martin. I won a honeymoon package at your resort. We are supposed to come next weekend.” 

“Hello, Ms. Martin. Or I supposed it’s Mrs. Martin by now? Congratulations. We’re looking forward to rolling out the red carpet for you and your wife.” 

Fuck. She was going to throw up. Her cheeks heated and the knot in her stomach started doing somersaults. She needed to get off the phone. “I’m uh—unfortunately I—we—” She forced herself to take a breath. 

Suck it up and get it over with Mari. 

“We didn’t get married. We’re not coming. It’s off. Everything is off.” 

“I—What?” That was utter shock. Just complete blankness, and if it didn’t suck so hard, it would be funny as hell. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for everything. Just send me a bill for…whatever you need to. It’s fine. It’s all fine.” She sounded like an idiot, which, obviously, she was. 

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about all of that but…you have to come.” 

What? “Excuse me?” 

“I mean…don’t you still need a vacation? We’d love to have you. There might be a few…logistical matters, but I’m sure we can work something out.” 

Had this guy lost his mind? 

“You heard me, right? I’m not taking a vacation with the bitch who didn’t marry me. Excuse my French.” Did she need to spell out how Josie had just flatly explained that she was in love with someone else? Mari wasn’t going away with that bitch. She didn’t intend on seeing her ever again. She was already packing her shit to go…somewhere. She’d figure that out tomorrow. 

“I—Okay. Okay, but… Shit. My job is on the line here. Surely there’s something we can do.” 

Do? What the hell were they supposed to do? 

“Well you can’t make her not have cheated on me, right? I’m sorry, but I’m not coming.” 

“I…wait. I know. I’ve got it.” Bryan paused, and she was about to say no again when he started taking a hundred miles an hour. “Yes. Come anyway. Just you, okay? Come have a wonderful resort vacation on us like you planned. You can ski, you can relax in the hot tub, all your meals are paid for. Free wine. Spa treatments. All I ask is that you let me take a few pictures like we’d talked about when you won the trip. Some promotional photos, that kind of thing. That’s all. You can do that, right? Just some PR?” 

She wanted to say no, but he kind of had her at free wine. She needed to get out of New York, clear her head, figure out what her next move should be. Why not do it at a fucking spa resort and get pampered while she was at it? She could handle a few pictures. No problem. 

She took a deep breath. “This will keep you from losing your job?” It made no sense, but whatever. 

“Yes. Yes, please say yes.” He couldn’t fake that sort of desperation. 

“Okay. Yes. I’ll come.” 

“Next weekend, as planned?” 

“Next weekend. Friday. Like the paperwork says.” 

“Perfect. You rock. I’ll have a car pick you up at the airport. You’ve saved me. Thank you.” 

And then there was a click. 

She stared at her phone where it sat on her desk, completely baffled by that entire conversation. She didn’t understand. But then, she didn’t understand a lot of things. Like how you sleep with someone for three years while you’re in love with someone else. 

Well, fuck Josie. She was going to soak in a hot tub, drink free wine, get a facial and take some hot woman back to her hotel room. A different one every night. That would show that cheating bitch. 

Sure, she should have maybe planned things a little better. Like, maybe proposed earlier. But she’d assumed…well she’d assumed wrong. But she hadn’t expected to win the damn “Honeymoon in Heaven” contest anyway. 

Lesson learned. No more honeymoons. 

She’d take a few days in heaven though. She could use them. She pulled out her phone to let her bestie know. <I called and talked to the Summit Springs people and decided to go alone. Don’t make it weird. I need some time by myself.> 

Ginny answered back in less than a second. <WHAT OMG IM CALLING!> 

Then the Macarena started playing. 

“Hey, Macarena!” She smiled at the FaceTime call. “I said don’t make it weird.” 

“I’m not. Are you okay? Are you going to do something stupid? Can I come?” 

“I’m mad and heartbroken and completely fine. What are you wearing? Are you going out? Do you have a date?” She wasn’t fine, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal either. 

“I am. She’s a stud—a chef. I’m wearing something warm but cute. Low cut, but with a scarf.” 

Ginny was hot and only kind of knew it. What she thought was cute, most people would drool over. “You look amazing. I love your hair. Go make yourself her favorite dish.” 

“I intend to. I need that Christmas Eve girlfriend, girlfriend.” She gasped. “Oh, god. That was tacky.” 

“So tacky.” But she giggled her head off. She missed Ginny. They hadn’t lived in the same place at the same time since college, but they’d always kept in touch. “Girlfriend.” 

“I love you, honey. Call any time except for after nine tonight. I hope to be busy.” 

“Nighty, you. Who needs sleep? Love you.” She gave Ginny a wave and they both hung up. 

Seriously, who needed sleep? She hadn’t slept well in a week. A nice soak in a hot tub should help, right? She went to pour herself a glass of wine and think about what to pack.

Title: Honeymoon in the Cards
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CPJWP3YK
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-96-3

The Trouble with Cowboys

January 6, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Sin Deep Series #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: February 6, 2024

When Kacey Lowe shows up at his friend Sam’s place in New York, it’s because he has nowhere else to go. He’s lost his shot as a bullrider, and he’s beat up as anything to boot. He doesn’t want to impose on Sam, and he and his buddy tend to get into trouble together anyway. That’s how he ends up at River’s place.

River McIntyre doesn’t really understand Kacey, but he wants to help the tough little cowboy with whatever demons he’s wrestling. He’s not sure he can, and he’s not sure Kacey can be everything he needs, but he sees past Kacey’s pain and insecurities, and knows they could have something special together if they can just figure it out.

The trouble with cowboys, River finds out, is that they might be speaking a different language than a city man like him. But if they can meet in the middle somewhere, it will be worth all the effort.

The Trouble with Cowboys is set in The Cowboy and the Dom universe and features a hurt-comfort, opposites attract, D/s romance in New York City.

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

 

Chapter 1 

 

“Come on, man. Answer your fucking phone.” 

Kacey Lowe tried hard to know certain shit—one, where his boots were, two, where his phone was, and three, where he was going to be able to sleep in a world that had little to no use for a broke-dick bullrider. He had two out of three. 

Now Kacey needed a couch to surf. 

Sam O’Reilly would let him stay, have a little fun, and not ask too many questions about the bruises, why he was in New York, and what the hell he was going to do next. 

“’lo?” O’Reilly sounded drunk. “Who’s this?” 

“Kacey. How you been?” He could handle drunk. 

“Fine as frog hair. Where the hell are you?” 

“Um… Times Square, I think. I’m pretty sure.” The place was so lit up it felt like daytime. 

“Like in the city?” 

“Well, I am totally in a city. The New York one.” The last ride was a flower delivery dude. He’d been cool, and they’d shared a spliff. 

“What? When? Why? How?” 

That was a lot of questions in a row. Sam hadn’t changed a bit. “In New York. Now. Because of life and things, and really fucking slow?” 

“Wait. Hang on.” The music in the background faded away, and Sam got back on the line with more questions. “Okay. Did you get hurt? How did you get here? Where are you staying?” 

He couldn’t answer the first two questions without opening a can of worms. “I was sorta hoping you’d have a couch I could use for a day or two while I’m visiting.” 

Or until he got his bell unrung. 

Sam O’Reilly had been his mentor on the arena floor when he was a junior, and the man had been fun to hang with the few times they’d been together on the circuit. 

“Yeah, of course. Not many of us with couches up here, huh?” He heard street noises as Sam put him on speaker. “I’m texting you the address. We’re not home… uh… I’ll just see if I can convince Mister—Thomas—to make it an early night.” 

“Is it a bad time? I can wait ’til tomorrow, dude.” He could walk around for hours, no problem. He had enough cash to eat for damn near a year, if he was careful, and he would do near anything to win a bet, so… 

“Right. Just stay on the street tonight, and I’ll see you after breakfast.” Sam snorted. “Get your ass over there. Tell the doorman you’re a friend of mine, and he’ll let you wait in the lobby. We’ll be there in a little bit.” 

“You sure, man? I know this is a surprise.” 

“Shut up. See you in an hour, give or take.” 

Oh, thank God. Kacey sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks, man. Just a day or two.” 

“Yeah, while you’re in town.” 

Okay. He had himself a place to stay. If he remembered right, Sam liked a bar so he might get to have some fun too, while he figured out what to do next. He looked at the text—he could walk forty blocks in an hour, right? 

If not, he’d text and say he was running late. He was good at that. 

He set his GPS and started beating feet. 

Lord have mercy this place was wild. Maybe a guy could have some fun here… 

He found the address and slowed down as he moved up the block. The building was big. And tall. Really fucking tall. There was a big white awning held up by gold posts and a dude in a jacket and hat hanging out near the front door and watching him as he got closer. 

“Move on,” the guy said in a deep voice as he slowed down even more. 

“I got me an invitation from a friend.” He wasn’t going nowhere. “Sam O’Reilly. You know him?” 

“Mhm.” The guy nodded. “You’re friends?” 

He arched one eyebrow, trying hard not to be a bitch. “Yessir. We rode together in Texas, couple times in Vegas.” 

“Understood. What’s your name?” 

“Kacey Lowe.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lowe. Mr. O’Reilly isn’t at home. You can wait inside if it’s cold out here for you.” 

“That would rock. Thank you. It’s damn chilly.” He held out one hand to shake, but the dude stopped before grabbing his fingers. 

Oh. Right. 

They were a little tore up from the last fight, and that one finger was…wonky. 

“You’re definitely a friend of Sam’s.” They clasped hands gently, the door guy shaking his head. 

“Yessir. Since I was a teenager, you know? He’s wild as anything.” And a great drinking buddy. “I’m looking forward to hanging with him.” 

“Mm. Wild.” The guy waved an arm and the doors slid open. “There’s a pot of coffee behind the desk.” 

“Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.” He headed in and grabbed a cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar and creamer. 

Calories were good. They kept a man warm. 

He hadn’t gotten one sip down before Sam came through the door, followed by a tall, handsome, very… hot…uh. Had he mentioned tall? 

“Kacey.” Sam came right to him with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Sam.” Damn, Sam looked so good. Healthy. Strong. Almost like a grown-up. Weird. “I missed your skanky ass, man.” 

“Hey now, I’ve cleaned it up a little since you saw me last.” Sam gave him a hug, and he was proud of himself for not wincing. “You look good.” 

“You appear to have been in a fight,” Mr. Handsome said. Was that a growl? 

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kacey, this is Thomas.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. Again. “And I swear, I haven’t been in a fight.” 

He’d been in a few dozen. 

Thomas took his hand, but not to shake it. He looked at it critically, turned it palm-side up and back again, then sighed. “You need to get some ice on that. I think I might have a splint for the finger. Come on upstairs.” 

“Dude, seriously? What the hell happened?” Sam grinned at him. “Tell me it was fun, at least?” 

“I wish I could, cowboy.” 

Thomas led them to the elevator, and when the big, shiny doors opened, they all got on. Thomas was… not really staring but looking him over. It was weird, but it wasn’t creepy. 

Sam nodded to him and rested a hand on his arm. “I’ll make us coffee.” 

Oh god, don’t leave me with him. “I’ll help.” 

“It’s no pr—” 

“I’ll so help.” Helping, helping, la la la. 

“Let him help.” Why did it feel like Thomas could see right into his soul? God, that was unnerving. 

“So… this is your… roommate?” He didn’t read like a roommate. More like a grumpy fuckbuddy. Possibly a sugar daddy. 

Dude. 

Dude. 

Did Sam have a sugar daddy? He had a decent belly, but he was a little un-twinkly and sparkly. In Vegas, boys like that had glitter. 

Thomas laughed as they stepped off the elevator but didn’t answer the question. “I thought you said he was a good friend, Sam?” 

“He is. He’s a rodeo buddy. He was a junior rider that I mentored.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Thomas here, he’s my lover. My guy. My… person, huh? If you’re not cool with that…” 

“Dude. I know you’re into dick. I just didn’t know you were into…” Big growly dudes with biker boots and a fancy apartment. “Permanent guys.” 

“Yes, he’s permanently into my dick.” Thomas was still chuckling as he opened the apartment door. 

“Kinky,” he whispered. 

Sam started chuckling, the sound started soft and built. 

And built. 

And built. 

Thomas leaned close to Sam and kissed his forehead. “I’m not touching that.” 

Sam led him toward an open kitchen, and Thomas went the other way down a long hall. 

“Lord, he’s a biggun. Pretty, though.” That seemed the most polite. 

“He’s amazing. I’ve never been happier.” Sam started making coffee. “What the fuck happened to you? And don’t say nothing, because I’m neither blind nor stupid.” 

“Did you just say ‘nor’?” 

“Neither… nor…” Sam shot him a look. “I asked you a question.” 

“It’s a long story, but the short version is, got dumped, got outed, lost my sponsors, got reminded that I ain’t supposed to be in Texas.” Hell of a short version. 

Sam puffed out a breath and went back to making coffee. “I’ve heard that story before. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Just been traveling. Seeing stuff. Wandering. I looked you up—sorry about your brother, by the way.” 

Sam nodded, took a deep breath. “Thanks. It was tough, but we caught the son of a bitch.” 

“That’s good. I hope he got what he deserved.” 

“Neosporin, band-aids, ice pack, Tylenol, and one finger splint.” Thomas appeared and set everything down on the counter one by one, then held out a hand palm-up. “Will you let me see?” 

Oh, how decent was that? Pretty damned, if you asked him. He held up one of his hands. They hurt pretty good, and that one finger needed something to encourage it not to fall off. 

He wasn’t a damn roper, after all. 

“Hm. I’ll be careful.” For the next few minutes, Thomas gently cleaned his hands up with damp cotton balls and covered the one bad cut with the cream and a band-aid. Thomas’s hands were warm, and those fingers moved over his skin like… like he cared. 

And the man never growled once. 

Okay, weird. Again. “Thanks. Seriously. I’ll slam the finger in the splint, if it grosses you out.” 

It grossed him out some, but it was easier to just do it, right? 

“Pfft.” Thomas shook his head. “I have a brother who has broken this finger three times, and several others more than once. Fists and walls don’t mix well.” There was a blinding light, and he was dizzy for a few seconds, and when he could see again, Thomas was wrapping tape around the splint to keep it in place. 

“Whiskey?” Sam asked, and he groaned. 

“Fuck me yes.” All the whiskey. 

“Rock on.” 

“You didn’t faint, and you didn’t lose your balance. You’re like my Sam.” He wasn’t sure how to read Thomas’s smile, but the man rested his hand on the counter and gave it a gentle pat. It was weirdly… what? Parental? Something. “All good.” 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate this. I’ll be on my way in a day or two. I just wanted to get a face-to-face with Sam-I-Am.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head. “I swear to God, Kacey. You carry trouble like a landed bass.” 

“I sure do try, yessir.” 

Thomas took Sam by the chin and kissed him. “I’ll leave you two to talk, sweetheart. Good night.” 

“See you in a bit, Mister.” Sam poured two coffees, calm as all get out. “Are the hands the worst of it?” 

“Nah.” No, the worst of it was in his soul, and what could he do about that now? He’d thought Mitch and him, they’d had something workable. Something nice, even, but when they’d been caught, Mitch had said he wasn’t willing. He’d never forced no one to do anything. Not ever. 

But that didn’t matter, and that wasn’t something he was ever gonna talk about. That secret belonged to him. 

Sam gave him a knowing smile, which didn’t hurt so bad, coming from him. “I didn’t reckon. The core shots are the ones that are the worst. Come on. Let’s sit and bullshit a minute.” 

Core shots. He hated that Sam seemed to know something he didn’t want to tell. 

“That I can do. I’m full of bullshit.” His laugh didn’t make that funny like it should have. 

“We all are. Sometimes, we find the thing that we need to empty us out.” 

That was damn near deep, and he didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatcha doing with yourself these days, buddy?” 

Sam shrugged, cheeks pinking. “Believe it or not, I got my damn PhD. I teach. I write books…” 

“Cool, man. That’s… wild.” Kacey felt himself shrink inside. Sam O’Reilly had retired, become a professor, wrote books. He wasn’t broke dick, but he had a couple thousand bucks, his boots, his phone, and a single silver buckle. Fuck, he needed to find another place to go. 

“Totally is. How’d you end up here?” 

Kacey curated what he wanted to tell Sam, and he finally settled on, “I was in Columbus, and the guys were heading west, so I came over. I was on a bus, googling, and happened on your name. Thought if I came here, I’d look your happy ass up.” 

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, then looked at him. “Why not go home?” When he didn’t answer, Sam added, “Rough weather?” 

“Yeah. My folks—” He waved one hand, because he didn’t know what say. He watched the coffee wave in his cup, back and forth, and finally words just fell out of his lips. “I fucked up, Sam. Bad. There ain’t no coming home from that.” 

Sam set his cup down. “Shit, Kace. Are you in trouble? We know people…” 

He shook his head, even as he desperately wanted to nod. “No. No, I ain’t here to fuck your life. I just need a day or two to rest, yeah? Then I’ll go traveling again.” 

“I’m telling you we can help. You rest, get your head right, but you think about it.” 

“Thanks for answering your phone.” He needed a friend, a minute to breathe. 

“Thanks for trusting me, man. Drink your coffee and breathe. You’re safe here.” Sam winked at him. “Thomas is way more badass than he looks.” 

“Is he a teacher too?” Kacey was betting on librarian more than teacher. 

“No, no. He’s the head curator for the Metropolitan Museum.” Sam sounded proud. 

“Damn.” Sam had just left his whole world behind like dust. “Good on y’all.” 

He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do to make money. He needed to google canned rodeos. 

Mechanical bull competitions. 

Daredevil shows. 

“You’ll figure it out. I was lost when I got here, and I couldn’t go back home. This is home now.” 

“I’m tickled shitless for you. You got work tomorrow?” You want to go find some trouble with an old friend? 

“I’m not teaching. I can skip a day of writing to hang, sure.” Sam tilted his head, lips twitching. “After all, it is Friday…” 

“Yeah? No shit? Surely we can find ourselves something to do.”

Title: The Trouble with Cowboys
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CSW7DS8F

Making a Mark, Triskelion Book #2

September 25, 2021 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Triskelion Series #2
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: October 5, 2021
Pages: 332

When Troy and Saul became lovers, they worried about a lot of things. There was their age gap, their younger Dom-older sub relationship, and Troy’s health, which was made worse by job stress. They managed all that and more with a deep commitment, and with a lot of help from Troy’s longtime best friends, fellow Dom and sub couple Carter and Geoff.

In fact, Saul seems to be what all three of the other men need to see what’s been there all along, and to provide the balance they need to deepen their relationship in a very meaningful way. They’ve already made their marks on each other’s hearts. Now it’s time to start living the life they’ve all been dreaming of.

Nothing is ever perfect or easy, though, and they all have to shift their perceptions. Geoff has to come to terms with his need for submission and desire to dominate Troy, and Carter must redefine the two most important relationships in his life. Troy struggles to understand why Geoff and Carter want this with him now, after years of watching from the outside. And Saul has to create a whole new definition of family. Can they all break the rules again and become something more special than they can even imagine?

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Chapter One 

 

“You want something to eat, or do you want to go straight home and sit in the hot tub, baby?” Carter Lee didn’t care, to be honest. He just wanted to get his ass somewhere and process what the fuck had just happened. 

More than that, he wanted to see what his husband had to say. 

Twenty-five years he and Geoff had been together, Dom and sub from minute one, and while they had experimented together more than once, they’d never acknowledged that Geoff was a switch. 

“I’m not hungry. Take me home?” Geoff leaned into him and massaged one palm thoughtfully, bangs still damp from his long tattoo session with Troy. 

“You got it.” Home wasn’t too far up the mountain, but it wasn’t the first time he wondered if they shouldn’t have bought down in Boulder like their best friend Troy. They’d chosen to renovate an old house they found away from their businesses so that they could leave Geoff’s tattoo parlor and his diner behind when they weren’t working. 

“Mmm. Good to me.” Geoff kissed his neck. “I’ll lock up.” 

The ride home was nearly silent. He assumed Geoff was processing the session as much as he was. That was fine; they’d climb into their hot tub and talk there. But instead of heading straight out to the deck when they got home, Geoff headed for the kitchen. 

“Smoothie? I’m thinking peach. Want one?” 

“Sure. I’ll start the water bubbling. I’ll meet you out there.” It wasn’t a request. They needed to chat, process, decompress. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Geoff accepted the order as it was intended, and a few minutes later, he appeared with two smoothies, garnished with lime and raspberries and fat, colorful straws. 

“Look at that. They look amazing.” Carter had to grin. Geoff made him happy—always had, always would. “You sure you don’t want to open a smoothie bar, babe? Yours are the best.” 

“These are only for you, love.” Geoff winked and set the smoothies down, grabbed a couple of towels out of an outdoor storage bin, stripped quickly and then stepped into the tub to get out of the cold air. 

Carter made sure their robes were in the outdoor warmer and turned the lights down before he climbed into the water. Oh, this was the best thing they’d invested in for forever. 

When they were settled, with hardly a hair between them, Geoff handed him a smoothie. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” He took a sip, the peach bright and sweet. He waited for Geoff to finish his sip and then he grabbed his boy, dragging him close for a kiss. 

“Mmm.” Geoff set his drink down hard on the edge of the tub and opened to his kiss with a sweet moan, molding into him, hands fluttering against his shoulders. 

Carter managed to put his smoothie down so he could grab his boy and take what he needed. Watching Geoff ink Troy had been hot, and making out with Troy’s Master? That had revved him up. 

Geoff managed a loud, surprised sound against his lips, and practiced fingers dove into the warm water, wrapping around his stiff prick. 

Hell yes. He wrapped his hand in Geoff’s hair, keeping his boy where he wanted him so he could plunder the sweet mouth. 

His boy’s hand sped, nothing subtle about the way Geoff worked to get him off, thumb sweeping heavily on every upward stroke. 

“Fuck.” Carter grunted, his fingers curling into fists. “More.” 

Show me what you have, boy. 

“I watched you kissing Saul, Master,” Geoff whispered in his ear, pressure and friction relentless. “You were beautiful together.” 

“It was time.” And soon it would be Geoff’s turn to kiss Troy. It had been on Geoff’s mind for years. 

“And this? Is it time now?” Geoff’s thumb burrowed through his slit. “Will you stand up, Master? So I can taste you? Please?” 

“Fuck, boy, you beg so pretty.” Carter took another kiss, intending to make Geoff wild and hungry before he pulled himself up out of the water, the cold air slapping his wet skin. 

Geoff clearly didn’t intend to leave him in the cold long; the boy knelt in the water, that hungry mouth taking him in, heat and suction just right. His boy’s fingers dug into his ass, keeping him close and making it hard to move. He put one hand on Geoff’s head—not holding on but keeping them connected. The hot water licked at his thighs, the steam filling the air and making it look otherworldly. 

He knew he was everything in Geoff’s world right now. The boy’s focus was completely on him, his need. Whatever he wanted. Geoff could get completely lost if he allowed it, and right now, as his nipples grew hard in the cold air and everything below the belt was on fire, it was tempting. But Geoff took him in deep and swallowed, the sensation rippling up his shaft as his body went tight. 

“Boy!” he barked out a warning, because after watching Geoff with Troy and kissing Saul, he’d already been close to the edge. His boy knew him, knew what he liked, and Carter arched, pressed deep, and shot down Geoff’s willing throat. 

His boy’s sounds were muffled and muted as Geoff sucked down everything he had to offer. “Master.” Then Geoff lapped at him, licked and sucked along his spent shaft, sending aftershocks through him, making his knees weak. 

“Damn, boy.” He blinked for a second, trying to clear his head. “I may have to keep you.” 

“If you must. I guess that would be okay.” Geoff coaxed him back down into the warm water and snuggled in. “You’re not going to ask me to sit by your feet while you work all day again, though, are you? Not. Happening.” 

He pinched one little nipple, laughing softly. “Don’t make me put you over my knee, boy.” 

Because he would, as soon as his bones solidified again, anyway. 

“Ow. Don’t fuss, sir,” his boy teased. “You’ll lose your buzz.” 

“Mmm. I don’t want that.” He wrapped his boy in his arms. He’d get Geoff off, but he could take it slow now. “You did good work tonight.” 

“Oh!” Geoff beamed at him proudly. “Did you like it? I spent a lot of time thinking about how to make it work. I think Troy was happy.” 

“I think so too. He floated out the door.” 

Geoff reached for their smoothies and handed his over. “It gets to be this really intimate thing. The first few minutes, it’s just like any other session, but then the way that Troy…” Geoff sighed and sipped his drink thoughtfully. “I don’t even know how to explain it. He has this energy, and it is about the pain but it’s also about the ink. It has a purpose, you know? And he craves that connection. It’s not him or me anymore; it’s us. We’re in it together. That’s what makes it addicting, and that’s what gets me high. He just turns his body over to me. He trusts me. He’s… for a little while, he’s mine.” 

His boy blinked the faraway stare out of his eyes and glanced at him. “Wow. Sorry. I kind of babbled there.” 

“Good. Your honesty honors me, and I want us to share your experience together.” He reached up, cupped Geoff’s jaw, thumb rubbing his boy’s bottom lip. 

“I’m just relieved that you’re a part of it again. It was too hard to think about giving it up, but I always felt guilty the day after. I never wanted to make you jealous or think…” Geoff bit that lip, still swollen from his kisses. “I love you.” 

“Boy.” Carter waited patiently for Geoff to look at him, easing that bottom lip from between his teeth. “I have never doubted you. You are my boy, balls to bones.” 

“I am. Thank you, sir.” Geoff swallowed and nuzzled into his neck. His boy’s anxiety was something they still dealt with to some extent, but he’d learned over the years how to handle it. What to say and how to say it. 

He held on, loving the contrast between hot water, cold peach, bubbling liquid, and smooth skin. 

“Did you like having Saul there?” 

Carter chuckled—softly at first, but the sound grew into a warm, full laugh. “Oh, babe. That was fun. I haven’t played with another Dom since…was it Rick and Tony we played with on the cruise?” 

“Yeah, remember that? That was a while ago. But kissing is tame compared to that cruise.” Geoff sat back and sipped his smoothie, giggling. “And I still want to know how you and Rick figured out which of you outranked who.” 

Shit, so did he. Making out with Rick had been like having a fight with a rabid grizzly bear. 

“Dom secrets, of course.” 

“Oh. Of course.” Geoff laughed harder. “Dom secrets. I wonder if Saul knows the same secrets? I can’t say that Troy and I do. But then we haven’t talked about that yet. We will though. I’m happy with this whole thing.” 

“Good. Troy really was floating.” He put his drink down and reached beneath the water to cup Geoff’s prick. “So were you.” 

Geoff gasped softly and gingerly set his own drink down too. “I was. I am still, sir. Some.” 

“Yes. Was it hard not to touch Troy? To kiss him?” He knew how much Geoff was affected by his words, by his voice. 

Geoff nodded slowly, prick filling fully in his fingers. “It’s always a temptation, sir. I’ve never told him that though.” 

“You can now.” He rubbed their cheeks together as he wrapped his fingers around Geoff’s shaft. He was still getting his head around their new relationship with Saul and Troy. He knew that Geoff and Troy already had a power-play arrangement between them that was intrinsic to the tattoo sessions, but he’d never imagined himself agreeing to such a thing in the past. Saul had changed all of them. “What do you want to do first, boy?” 

“I…” Geoff sighed in his ear, hips arching into his hand. “I want to kiss him, sir. Just lightly, something… sweet. I want to give him something that doesn’t hurt.” His boy’s words were so sincere. 

“You’ve given him pain and beauty, hmm? Now it’s time for pleasure? Such a thoughtful boy.” Carter kept his touches light, steady—not teasing, but not at all frantic. 

“And I—" His boy flicked his eyes away. Oh, that blush was something. Deep pink and the color ran long, right over the boy’s throat. 

He followed the line of throat with his lips, threatening with his teeth. “And you?” 

“I… Oh, sir.” Geoff arched to his mouth. “That. I want to taste him. Taste his ink.” 

“Your mouth is magical. You’ll make him lose his mind, boy.” He nibbled his way down to Geoff’s shoulder. “And what do you want from him, boy? Do you want him on his knees?” 

Geoff groaned. “God. I’ve never let myself think about that, but… I think I do.” 

“Mmm…” He thought he did too. While he was laying down stripes, maybe, or while Saul was fucking Troy. “You get to play with him once a month, boy. Plenty of time to plan a scene.” 

He bit down on the ball of Geoff’s shoulder, making his boy whimper and buck into his hand. “Together,” Geoff said, panting, that soft voice tight. “We’ll plan it together.” 

“Together. My favorite word.” He tightened his hand, driving Geoff that much higher. “I’d love to fuck you while you fuck his mouth, boy.” 

“Oh!” Geoff rocked against him, that pretty mouth going slack as his boy shot for him. “Fuck! Sir!” 

“Mmhmm.” Oh, very nice. Carter loosened his grip, encouraging the aftershocks to go on and on. 

“Sir. Thank you, sir.” Geoff found his mouth and kissed him between the panting and soft moans. When his boy finally relaxed, they sank back against the side of the tub together. 

“I love you, boy.” He kissed Geoff’s temple and handed his boy one of the smoothies. 

“I love you too.” Geoff took a long sip. “Do you think they’ll go for it?” 

“I have no doubt.” He grinned over. “Also, that’s one more swat for cursing.” 

 

Title: Making a Mark
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09GX963VV
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-64-2

Razor’s Edge

November 24, 2019 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Series #2
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: January 21, 2020

Razor's Edge, The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy, Book Two

Razor blades left by a murderer continue to remind Sam and Thomas of James, the man they lost to violence, whose killer is still out there and seems to be watching them constantly, biding his time.

Their carefully built relationship also teeters on the edge of a knife. Sam tries to be the full-time sub he thinks Thomas wants, but fails miserably, while Thomas tries to understand that Sam is unique and his cowboy’s needs don’t lend themselves to a formal BDSM lifestyle. They work through confusion, arguments, and stress, but when communication starts to break down, they struggle to reconcile their differences to learn what it means to be a “them”.

An emotional misunderstanding might be the last straw, or it might be the opportunity the killer has been waiting for to take Sam out of Thomas’s life once and for all.

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Excerpt 

Chapter One

“You want a ride home, little Sammy?” Angel looked tired, a little grumpy.

Sam got it. It was four in the morning and no one liked that time—just getting up or getting off work.

“You going that way? Toward Thomas’s, I mean.”

The big man looked over at him slowly, fingers combing his beard. “Thomas’s? At this hour?”

“Yessir. We cleaned out James’s place. It was time.” His late brother’s apartment had been hanging over the two of them for too long. They’d cleaned it out, then he’d moved in with Thomas. Crawling into bed with his lover was amazing. A lot of things he was learning these days were pretty fucking amazing. Hell, he could feel Thomas with him, feel the sweet sting of his Dom’s stripes right across his shoulders. It was proof they weren’t alone, either of them.

“What, really? Thomas was really ready to do that? You need a place to stay, I got an extra room.”

“That’s kind as all get-out. Seriously. But I’m okay.” Oh, maybe it was supposed to be a secret. Thomas had said it was important to him, to keep things where they belonged. God, he needed to keep his fucking mouth shut. “I-I think I’m going to go take myself to breakfast, man, get some reading done, but thanks.”

“Shut up, Sammy. It’s not like I don’t know he’s your Master. Are you and Thomas a romantic thing now? Is this supposed to be some big secret because he’s coming off a relationship with James? Don’t be stupid. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He didn’t know if it was a secret, if he was a secret. He hadn’t even considered it. He’d been so caught up in everything, so proud to be with Thomas, that he hadn’t been thinking.

In some ways he was always going to be a giant redneck.

“I’ll tell you, it’s a good thing you told me, because I was about to make a move myself. No lie. Leave it to Thomas to get two O’Reilly brothers. The little shit.”

Angel led him out to that big Harley.

“There seems to be something about him, yessir.”

About to make a move on him? Sleeping with Angel would be like sleeping with his big brother, Bowie. They were just alike, the two of them—huge. Sam trusted Angel with his life, but the idea of… Whoa. No.

He would let Thomas take him in every possible way. The idea of doing that with someone else made his butthole pucker.

“Hardly seems fair.” Angel climbed on and offered him a hand, grinning wide. “Well, at least I can still get you to ride bitch.”

“Absolutely. And you’re on the top of my list for fixing me when I’m broke.”

“If Thomas breaks you, I will break his head.” Angel looked back at him. “Not joking.” They took off down city streets that were much too bright for the darkest hour of the morning, and eerily deserted too. Angel didn’t seem to care much for stoplights or speed limits or really anything that might be considered obeying traffic laws.

He loved it, loved the adrenaline rush, the way Angel drove. It made him want to learn to drive a motorcycle.

Thomas lived on a more residential street, and Angel did back off the throttle a little so the Harley rumbled rather than roared, but Sam was still pretty sure they could be heard three blocks away. “You okay? You want me to walk you in?”

“Thomas will be sound asleep, I bet. I’d hate to wake him. Thank you, though.” Angel had been a dream, driving him home, making sure everything was good.

“We won’t. I won’t come in. I just want to make sure you get in all the way.”

He nodded. “Thank you. Y’all are all good to me.”

They got into the building, and the elevator crawled up. He blinked slowly, now that he was close to home, he wanted a shower and a bowl of cereal and to curl up with Thomas. Possibly on his belly. Get the fabric off his sore shoulders.

When the elevator doors opened, he chuckled as Angel walked him to the apartment door. Sam fumbled his key out, dropped it, and picked it up, sighing at himself. “Ready for a long nap and a day off.”

He put the key in the lock, grabbed the door handle, and bit out a “Fuck!” as a razor blade sliced into his palm.

“You okay? What the—shit, you’re bleeding.” Angel took the blade in one hand and opened the door with the other. “What the actual fuck?”

Sam stood there, staring at the razor, just stunned. No. No way. No fucking way.

He’d thought it was a prankster in James’s building.

“Sammy? You okay, man? Go inside.” Angel made him move, closed and locked the door behind them. “Hey. Sam.”

“I don’t understand.” God. This wasn’t a dipshit at the apartment. This wasn’t a trickster. No. This was about him.

It was about him, and now he’d brought it to Thomas. The asshole followed him to Thomas’s building.

Fuck. This was fucking about him.

His mind spun, and his heart pounded. “I need to see if Thomas is okay.”

“If…” Angel started to question him, but must have seen how serious he was. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

But before they made it halfway down the hall, Thomas called out for him. “Sam? Is that you? Everything okay?”

“We need you out here, Tommy.”

“Angel?”

“Now, Tommy.”

Sam just kept walking, his hand closed against his chest. He needed to see Thomas, to make sure he was…intact.

They met in the bedroom doorway, practically colliding in Thomas’s hurry to join them. “Sam? Angel? What’s going on? Sweetheart?”

Sam searched Thomas’s eyes, which were sleepy and worried, but his lover was whole.

Angel held up the razor blade. “On your door. He wouldn’t let me clean him up before he saw you.”

Sam had brought this to Thomas’s home. Him. Goddammit.

Thomas stared at it and sighed. “Fuck.” Thomas looked back at him. “I’m fine. You need to let Angel look at that, boy. I’m calling Colletti.”

“I’m sorry.” He headed to the kitchen and stuck his hand under the water, staring at nothing. He needed to…he ought to…he was…

Angel followed him, and he heard Thomas on his cell phone in the bedroom. “Who’s Colletti? Sam. Hey.” The water suddenly went ice cold.

His eyes flew open, his entire body jerking with the cold. “I have to take a walk. I’ll be back. I’ll bring back coffee.”

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Like hell you will. You’re in shock, Sammy. You need to sit down.” Angel took him by the arm. “Come on. You’re going to sit and let me see that cut.”

Angel sat him down, staring right in his eyes. This wasn’t Angel his buddy talking now; this was Angel the EMT. Angel the retired Army combat medic. “Breathe, Sammy. In and out. Just relax. You’re okay.”

He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay at all.

“Hang on.” Angel wrapped his hand up in a kitchen towel. “Sam? Do you know where you are?” He thought he felt fingers, pressure on his wrist.

“I need to get out of here. Somebody followed me.” Poor Thomas. God.

“Detective Colletti is going to call me back in the morning.”

Thomas.

“Is he okay?” Thomas knelt by his chair. “Sam, are you okay?”

“He’s tachy, pulse is high. Not really focusing. I’m gonna guess he’s altered. Special K probably, maybe on the blade. A little goes a long way.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

“He keeps saying he has to go.”

“Oh, Sam.” A warm hand pressed into his cheek. “Sam, look here.”

“I’m sorry.” He forced himself to stay perfectly still, because this was going to hurt. “I brought this here somehow.”

He was going to have to leave.

“Stop, Sam. He might just as easily have followed me. Or us. It was probably both of us when we were moving James’s things and your things. This isn’t on you. But we’re going to catch him now. Colletti’s on it. He’ll call us in the morning.”

“Shit, this is a thing? Like it’s happened before?”

“Sam cut his hand a bunch of times in the other building. Even I did once. And whoever mugged him took James’s coat and nothing else. This is real, Angel. Really fucking real.”

“Oh, fuck.” Angel looked like thunderclouds were forming in his mind. “I can’t fucking believe it. Let me see your hand, Sammy.”

Sam looked to Thomas, frozen where he was. He’d known Thomas would agree that he should leave. That Thomas would say it wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah. He’s out of it.” Angel just took his hand.

“Sweetheart, I’m right here. I’ve got you; you’re safe, okay? Angel says there was something on that blade that’s got you a little…stoned.”

“I don’t suppose you know when his last tetanus shot was?”

He heard Thomas snort.

“I’m going to call Gina. She’s on tonight. He needs a tetanus shot and some stitches. Take some blood. It’ll take a few. You keep him here and calm.”

“I need to—I’m sorry.” And scared. What if this was punishment for falling in love with Thomas? What if this was all his fault?

“I’ve got him. I’m just going to take him to the couch. Hope Gina doesn’t mind my boxer briefs. Come on, sweetheart. Come with me.” Thomas pulled him out of the chair, but walking was hard, so he floated a little and landed on the couch in Thomas’s arms. “You need to relax and stop saying you’re sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Sam took a couple of deep breaths, trying to clear his head, trying to focus.

Okay. Come on, Sam. Get with the program. Wake up. Focus. “I was going to take a shower.”

A shower, a bowl of cereal, snuggling.

“I thought he’d gotten in, gotten to you.”

“You were scared, huh? I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m fine. And you’ll be fine once this…shit…wears off. Colletti thinks this is good. He thinks we’ll catch him now.”

Thomas just held him still and close. It wasn’t snuggling, but it didn’t suck.

“I vote we electrify the doorknob.”

His words drew a harsh laugh from Angel.

“I like it, Sammy. Fry the motherfucker.”

“Security camera. There are some outside the building, a couple inside too. Maybe Colletti can get the recordings. We’ll put one on the door.” Thomas stroked his head, his back.

He felt the hint of ache, the buzz from where Thomas had marked him, and his body relaxed, his panicked thoughts slowing.

“Gina is on her way.”

***

His day with Thomas, work, the panic, the drugs—nobody was happier than he was when the EMTs quit poking at him and headed back out the door. Angel saw the paramedics out safe and promised to stop by the next day to check in.

Thomas locked the door, including securing a chain that he’d seen hanging but hadn’t seen Thomas use before. “You want that shower, babe?”

“I do. I smell like beer.” He stood up, telling himself he needed to act like a normal, functional human being, not a stoned, stitched-up, freaked-out asshole.

Thomas caught him under one arm with a smile. “You look a little like you’ve been drinking it.” They headed down the hall together, that arm through his sturdy and warm. “You need help? Or can you manage with that hand? Oh—or is that a dumb question because you’ve broken every bone in your body and somehow have managed to shower on your own for twenty-five years?”

“Almost twenty-six.” Did he need help? No. Did he want help? God, yes. There were terrors and guilt waiting in the back of his brain, and he didn’t want to be alone with them.

“God, you’re getting old. I better come help.” He got a kiss and a smile, and Thomas started helping him undress. “You do smell like beer. Wow.”

“It’s Saturday night. I had four thrown at me. It was great.”

Thomas just gave him a shake of the head.

He knew why his lover didn’t say anything, never did about the bar. It wasn’t disapproval, or a judgment on him. Thomas just didn’t like it. He hadn’t liked it from the start—since his initiation. But his lover seemed to understand that he needed the work and never asked him not to stay, never made a stink about his choices.

Thomas got the water hot and muscled him into the shower, then set his hand up on the tile to keep it dry.

He was already feeling less fuzzy—more tired and drained from the adrenaline rush, but those sensations he knew at least—and he just…well, he didn’t understand. Why him? Why James? Why them? Was it someone at the building? Someone he worked with at Mike’s? How could it be? James didn’t go to Mike’s, hadn’t ever. Someone at Thomas’s men’s club? Why him, then? No one knew about them, and Angel had just found out tonight.

Oh. Angel knew. He needed to apologize to Thomas about telling their secret. He also needed to remind Thomas that he wasn’t completely clear on all the rules and what was a secret and what wasn’t and, shit, Angel was a friend. A real friend. But still, he needed to figure out what was between them and the bedpost and what wasn’t.

Maybe he just needed a shot or twelve and a nap.

Was six thirty in the morning too late to start drinking?

“Earth to Sam. Give me your head. Where’d you go?” Thomas started scrubbing shampoo into his hair and massaging his scalp. Oh. Thomas was actually in the shower. Like, in it with him.

“I was caught in my brain.” He hummed at the touch and leaned. He’d never done this—been with a lover in the shower. He didn’t want to miss a second of it.

“Mm-hm. I’ve made it my personal mission to get you out of your brain. Or at least into the fun part.” Thomas tipped his head back into the spray and scrubbed the soap out. “Like this. This is the fun part.”

“Yes, Sir.” He closed his eyes and let the world tighten to right here with Thomas. He should be worrying, but he was just wearing down.

“We are going to finish getting you cleaned up, and you’re going to go to bed. And you’re going to stay there until this darkness under your eyes goes away and you have color back in your face. So tell me who I talk to at the bar, because you’re not going in tonight.”

“Daddy Mike.” He answered without thought, without argument, because the idea of bed and Thomas and rest captured him.

“Good boy.” Thomas spent some time with him, running gentle, soapy hands over his skin just because he needed it, not asking or expecting anything from him but that he stay present. They toweled off, and they both had a laugh as Thomas combed his hair. “This is a new one for me. Fun, but new.”

“Me too. My first shower with a lover.” He was living in a world of firsts.

“Really?” A kiss caught him by surprise, and Thomas winked. “You got ripped off. I’ll make it much more fun next time.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m not feeling like Super Fun Boy right now.” He tried for a smile. “Angel offered me a ride home; he does most nights. I told him I was staying here. He was shocked, and I didn’t realize I maybe shouldn’t have said anything. If I wasn’t supposed to, I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that he gets you home safely, especially tonight. Why shouldn’t you say anything? Are you worried about your job or something?”

“No. No, he just seemed like…” He closed his eyes as he tried to remember. “Like he was surprised. He offered me his spare room.”

“Hey.” Thomas took his hands, leading him back into the bedroom. “I’m proud of you as my sub, and I’m happy to show you off as my lover to anyone who is looking my way. Will some people be put off by it? Maybe, but it’s really none of their affair. Angel probably seemed shocked because the last he knew we were still essentially negotiating. You and I have grown together very quickly, and I just haven’t spoken to him since you moved in. That’s all. He didn’t know because I hadn’t had a chance to say anything, not because I don’t want the whole world to know you’re mine.”

“Good.” He leaned in, filling his senses with Thomas, letting it soothe the sore spots, let Thomas in to the tender bits that needed loving on. “I felt you with me, all night.”

Oh, Thomas liked that. That little growl, deep in his chest said it all. “Come to bed, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Sir.” He let Thomas settle him, propping him up and around with pillows and Thomas’s body until he could melt into the comfort. A deep sigh escaped him.

“You sleep and trust that I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” Thomas kissed him lightly. “Rest.”

“Got me.” He was gone before he could kiss Thomas back.

 

Title: Razor's Edge
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B083F4VR98

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

Hide Bound

December 28, 2021 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: January 18, 2022
Pages: 276

Peter Marshall has had enough of working for Parks and Rec when he comes across an opening for a real carpentry job and decides to give it a go. Building things is his passion, so even though the shop seems a little out there, and the owner seems pretty grumpy, Peter decides to go for it.

Brandon McPhail wishes he didn’t have to hire a new carpenter, but his current one is going out on maternity leave. He’s especially wary of this kid who can’t possibly be old enough to spell BDSM, let alone know what the lifestyle means. But Peter impresses Brandon with both his talent and his tenacity, so Brandon hires him on, reminding himself that he’s in a wheelchair due to his MS, he had a terrible experience in his last relationship, and despite how clueless Peter is about the lifestyle, he’s not interested in taking on another sub.

The chemistry between them is undeniable, though, and it’s not long before they’re exploring what they can learn from each other. Peter is a natural at fulfilling Brandon’s needs, and Brandon thinks he’s teaching Peter everything he’s eager to learn, but when danger threatens, they have to help their friends through it while trying to navigate their new relationship. Can they forge bonds strong enough to bind them together for life?

Note to readers: Each book in this series is a true standalone, so don't be confused when you discover that Hide Bound takes place before Just Dex in the "timeline". That was deliberate, and you don't need to have read one to read the other.

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Also in this series:

 

Chapter One 

 

“What are you looking at, Peter?” 

Shane, Peter Marshall’s tattoo artist, was also a professional piercer, and therefore one of Peter’s favorite people in the whole world. 

“Classifieds.” 

Peter spent so much time in Shane’s shop that it felt like he belonged there. Shane had been working on outlining and coloring Peter’s amazing sleeve and chest piece for a long while, bit by bit as Peter found the money. He’d almost taken off his shirt when he walked in the door this morning; it was a weird automatic thing to just strip it off every time he got there. 

But today he wasn’t getting more ink, he was getting snake bites on the left side of his lower lip. Two small, black horseshoe rings to match his septum ring, only these had little triangular ends that Shane called spikes. He liked that they sounded a little dangerous but weren’t really; they were just a little pokey. 

Shane put dots on his lip with a marking pen and showed him the placement. “Looking for work?” 

“Always.” He handed the mirror back to Shane. “That looks great.” 

“You’re a contractor, right?” 

“Yeah, but I’m really a carpenter by—” Shane startled him by tilting his chair back suddenly so he was reclining a little. “Whoa.” 

Shane grinned evilly at him. “Sorry, man. Did I forget to warn you?” 

Peter laughed. “Gosh, I guess you did.” 

“Okay, no more talking. I’m working.” 

He gave Shane a thumbs up and closed his eyes. 

He really needed a new job. Right now he worked for New York City Parks and Rec as a contractor, and he spent his time fixing things—gates and picnic tables, usually things stupid people broke. The older guys he worked with called it job security, but Peter didn’t feel like he needed to be fixing the toilets in the public restrooms in Central Park to feel secure. 

He was good at the job though; he could fix almost anything. He liked to say he knew just enough about plumbing and electricity to be dangerous, but he hadn’t actually blown anything up or hurt anyone yet. Anyone but himself anyway, and that was fine. 

He did like a few bruises. 

He felt the quick pressure and slight sting as the piercing went through his lip and his mind drifted just a bit. The second one stung more than the first and pushed him even farther away. He snorted when Shane teased him about the little grin he thought he was suppressing. 

“You like that, huh? You’re into pain, I know.” 

“Yeah, some. Sorry.” He was weird. But Shane wasn’t going to tell anyone. 

“No worries. You have to be willing to dish it out a little to do what I do, too. It’s all good.” 

Another reason Shane was one of his favorites. 

“I’m going to sit you up. Open your eyes when you’re ready and have a look.” Shane pressed a hand mirror into his fingers knowing he’d settle in a second and raised the head of the chair. 

After a time, he couldn’t be sure how long, he had a look. “Oh, perfect. I love the spikes.” 

“They’re great. Stylish and a little intimidating. Clean the outside a few times a day, don’t use mouthwash or kiss anyone for a week or so. You’re good to go.” 

He swung his legs off the table and stood up, blinking at the little surge of lightheadedness. Mmm, that was good. He offered Shane a hand. “Thanks, man.” 

“More ink next week? I’m itching to finish the outline across your shoulders.” 

Rent was due Friday so that was iffy. “If I have the cash, I’ll be here.” 

“Even if you don’t. I really want to finish that bit; it’s killing me.” Shane winked at him. 

He agreed and pulled his phone back out, reading the ad he’d been looking at for the fifth time. 

Midtown boutique seeks full-time carpenter for custom furniture builds. 

Real work. Custom work. 

Must have experience. Blah blah blah. 

No sweat. 

The place was called “Hide Bound”, and he figured it was one of those made-to-order places that built stuff to spec. It wasn’t design work, but it was a far cry from replacing yet another flush handle. 

So that was going to be his next stop. Him and his fat lip. 

He sent a little prayer up to the gods of job hunting that the position paid well enough he could say yes if it was offered to him.

Title: Hide Bound
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09PGKXTSK
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-68-0

Roped In

March 16, 2022 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: On the Ranch Series #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: May 10, 2022

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but sometimes distance makes people drift apart.

Rope Canutt has announced his retirement from bull riding and is making the most of his final year on the circuit, riding the big shows and resting in between so he can finish the season on a high note. He isn’t sure what’s next for him. He has no plan yet and nowhere to go, especially since his family sold their ranch a few years back.

Jude Sharpe remembers Rope fondly from their younger days in Austin. Mostly he remembers how hot the rodeo cowboy was and how much fun they had hooking up every time their paths crossed. That was a long time ago, and Jude’s been married and lost his husband to cancer in the years since they’ve seen each other. Now he’s raising a son alone.

When bull riding comes to New York City, Jude’s consulting firm uses their private box to entertain clients from Houston, and Jude brings his son Silas along to see the show. Rope is riding and Jude hopes to introduce Silas to a real bull rider. They’ve each lived a whole lifetime apart, and Jude and Rope aren’t sure how much they have in common anymore. So will they be drawn to each other when their paths cross again?

The books in this series are standalones and can be read in any order.

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Also in this series:

 

Chapter One 

 

“Can I get a hat?” 

“No, you don’t need a hat, buddy.” 

“Daddy! Everyone here has a cowboy hat on.” 

Ah, the familiar refrain of how life wasn’t fair. Jude shrugged. “I don’t.” 

Silas rolled his eyes. “Please?” 

“Not tonight, bud.” 

Jude could understand why Silas wanted a hat; what kid didn’t want to be a cowboy? At seven, Silas was right at that age where he was impressed with every kind of uniform. But growing up in New York, Silas had seen lots of cops and firefighters and construction workers. He hadn’t ever seen cowboys that weren’t on TV. 

It had been a long time since Jude had seen one too. In fact, he wasn’t all that comfortable being here tonight. But he and several colleagues were entertaining clients and their families to celebrate the closing of their latest deal and skipping out wasn’t an option. 

Usually the firm went for hockey or basketball games, but this client was a big investment firm based outside Houston, so the marketing team had given them the hospitality suite for night one of the annual bull riding event at Madison Square Garden. 

Bull riders. Yeah. That had been a lifetime ago. 

“See? They have hats too!” As they approached the suite, Silas pointed to a handful of kids with little plastic cowboy hats on. 

Now, that was a possibility. “You want one of those?” 

“Please, Daddy?” 

“Hey, Jude! We’re right in here.” 

The Beatles song played in his mind. Yes, even at thirty-four years old, he did it too. 

“Hey, David. Whoa, Silas! Look at all of this.” He led Silas inside and showed him the buffet, which was set up in front of a backdrop of a big red barn. At the end of the buffet was a stack of swag, including the plastic cowboy hats, pins, and T-shirts. 

“Hats!” Silas looked at him for permission, and he nodded. Free swag for the win. 

“Lord have mercy, this is a good spread.” One of the wives with cotton candy hair and smoky eyes smiled at him. “Seriously. This is wild—I came all the way from Texas to New York to see a bull riding.” 

Her husband had brought her here so he could sign what was probably the most lucrative deal of his career, but he wasn’t going to say that. Jack was a good client and a better person. “It’s a novelty here. Something we only get to see on TV. It’s popular though, they say it sells out every year. Have you been to New York before?” 

“No, strangely enough. I’ve been to Boston, DC, LA, but this is my first time here. It’s so fun. I’ve had a ball exploring.” When she bounced, her earrings and boobs bounced, but her hair didn’t move. 

He remembered this was work and didn’t stare, but that was fascinating. A cheer went up and he glanced toward the arena floor. Whoever that cowboy was must have made his eight. “I like that sound.” 

“Daddy! Daddy, that cow’s butt is dirty!” 

He glanced over in time to see a shit-covered bull backside up on the big screen. Yay. 

“Yep, that’s pretty gross.” He shook his head and grinned at Jack’s wife. She had a name. He’d been introduced, but he couldn’t remember. “Kids.” 

“Aren’t they amazing? I have five at home, so I totally feel you.” She winked at Silas. “At least it’s not smell-o-vision, right?” 

Silas wrinkled his nose. “Ew.” 

“Did you get a drink, Jude? Oh, hey, Camilla. Things are starting to heat up out there, I think Jack has a seat for you.” 

Camilla. He would never have remembered that. David to the rescue. 

David leaned over close. “Apparently between the sections, they’ll send cowboys up to make nice and sign things, so that will be exciting.” 

“Oh yeah? A bunch of Wrangler butts. Should be a good time.” And a little too close for comfort. “Probably not the celebrity types though, right?” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea. I’m just pleased that they are sending people up. It will go over well with the Texans, I think.” 

“Oh. For sure. Did you see Kevin’s email? He’s already gunning for more work with them.” David handed him a beer. “Thanks.” 

“I’m not sure bull riding is my thing. Most of these guys are just getting tossed.” 

“Sometimes it starts slow. It gets more exciting as the night goes on.” 

David raised a curious eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were a fan.” 

“I have…friends that ride. Had a friend. A while ago.” And it was time to shut his mouth. 

“Really? You? That’s—fascinating. Seriously. I wouldn’t have imagined.” David’s eyes went wide. 

“No, most people wouldn’t. It’s like you and your pre-grad school singing career.” He winked at David and held out his beer. “Cheers.” 

“Right. Cheers. That’s cool.” David rolled his eyes and looked out the window. “I’m going to go make sure everyone’s having a good time.” 

“Sounds good.” That worked like a charm. 

“Daddy, can we watch?” Silas had a huge hot dog in one hand and a Coke in the other. 

“Yes. Let me take that Coke.” He took it, and left it on the counter, trading it for a bottle of water instead and leading the way out to the leather-covered seats. “We’re watching in style, bud. Check it out.” 

“Whoa!” 

He let Silas choose where to sit and settled in next to him. 

“Have you ever been on a cow, Daddy? Do you think it hurts when they fall? How does the cow know what to do?” Silas was bright-eyed, watching everything from the gate pullers to the clown. 

“I haven’t been on one, but I can tell you that it definitely hurts when they fall.” He had no idea how the bulls knew what to do, but they definitely knew they had a job out there. 

He looked at the card that had been on his seat, which listed who was riding when, and scanned it, knowing he’d find the rider he was looking for. He didn’t know why he was so anxious about running into Rope Canutt again, because that was years ago. Another lifetime. But it had been less of a breakup and more of a fizzle, and he’d always felt badly for not ending it right. 

Apparently not badly enough to quit being a coward and pick up the phone, though. 

Rope was on the list, sure enough, in the fourth section of riders. Not at the end with the most famous guys, not at the beginning with the newbies, but in the middle. 

That wasn’t surprising; he knew Rope was retiring at the end of this season. Jude had been checking in over the years, watching him ride, following Rope’s career. Not like a hard-core fan, but with interest. At arm’s length. 

“Daddy!” A rider went down, the bullfighters doing their jobs, and Silas was out of his seat. 

He didn’t know that kid from a hole in the wall, but his heart started racing, and he gripped his fingers together to keep them from shaking. He made himself look away and just breathe, pretending to study the sheet on his lap, and after a few seconds he had everything under control. 

Okay. 

“All good, bud?” Jude picked up his beer and took a sip. 

“That was scary. Is he okay?” Silas glanced up at him, and he could see the hint of panic, just right there. 

Jude took Silas’s hand and pulled him back into his seat. “He’ll be fine. These cowboys are tough. They do this all the time. Did you get to see the bullfighters running that bull off? Pretty cool, huh?” He was the king of redirecting. 

“Yeah. Yeah, they’re brave, huh? Like you?” 

Well, that made him feel ten feet tall. “Even braver. Like you.” He put an arm around Silas’s shoulders and squeezed. Damn. It had been long enough that he hadn’t even thought about whether this would be hard for either of them. He decided that was mostly a good thing—there was a time when he’d thought about it constantly. 

Losing Nigel had been more than hard, closer to impossible, and he still wasn’t sure some days that he and Silas would be okay. 

They had to be, though. Especially Silas. “I heard there might be some cowboys coming up to do autographs, bud.” 

“Yeah? What will they sign?” 

“Anything you want. Maybe your program?” he suggested. 

“Can I get a picture too?” 

“Probably. I don’t see why not.” Silas wouldn’t be the only one wanting pictures. 

“That’s cool! A real cowboy, Daddy. We’re going to meet a real-life cowboy.” 

Okay, that smile was worth every second of this. “Awesome, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, awesome.” Silas grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “They’re going to go again. Are you ready?” 

Maybe? “Yes. Watch the gate.” He held on just as tight as the gate flew open and the bull leapt out. 

The cowboy flew off as soon as the bull cleared the gate. That was going to leave a bruise. 

“Oops.” He winced. 

“Ouch,” Silas said at the same time, and they looked at each other and laughed. 

“If it were easy everyone would do it, right?” 

“I guess so. I’d be scared, I think, to get up on one of those.” 

“I would too. That is definitely not a sport for me. Are you scared to watch too? We don’t have to if it’s not fun for you. It’s okay.” 

“No. I want to. I want to know how they do it.” That was his son—so interested in why and how things worked. 

“Okay.” He remembered watching Rope on event weekends, signing autographs. He complained about the adults sometimes, but never the kids. Maybe he could suck up his regret if… “Well, I think someone pretty cool is coming up in a bit. He’s a former champion, and he’s really good.” 

“Yeah? What’s his name? Do you know him? Is he nice?” Silas couldn’t figure out whether to look at him or the arena floor. 

“His name is Rope, and he is nice.” And fun and cocky and hot as hell. “I did know him a long time ago. Long before you and Dad, and even before I got my job.” He pointed to the floor. “Behind the gate, the rider is getting his rope all ready, the one that he holds onto. And the other guys are helping him get focused for his ride.” 

“So…he just holds onto the rope? He’s not tied in?” 

Silas was really thinking about this. It was kind of wonderful. “It’s wrapped really tight around a glove on his hand. He has to be able to let go so he can get off the bull. They can’t tie him in, right?” 

“No. No, that would be scary and dangerous, huh?” Look at those wide eyes. 

“That’s right. They do everything they can to make it less dangerous. You watch his head, and when you see him nod, the gate will open fast.” 

He remembered Rope, bragging in that way guys did at nineteen, telling him all about how everyone out there had a job to do. The guy pulling his rope, the guy holding his vest, the bullfighters, even the bull had a job. Eight seconds went by so fast everyone had to have their heads in the game. 

He got it a little bit, really. They’d broken up because they both had to have their heads in their respective games, and they couldn’t change that. 

Now that he was explaining things to Silas, he was starting to look forward to seeing Rope ride in person. 

“You’re going to have to have a cowboy explain all the spurring and the balance things… I don’t know much about how that’s done. I just know that the harder the ride, the higher the points.” 

“Don’t forget the bull is half the points. That’s real important.” 

Jude would know that voice anywhere. 

Anywhere. 

Rope Canutt stood there like a bent and broken angel, an ancient scar from a roping accident splitting the man’s lower lip. 

He stood and looked Rope over, finally meeting those green eyes that had fascinated him so long ago. He supposed he ought to see more age, but all he saw was the crooked smile and handsome face that he remembered. 

He had no idea what to say. 

And his mouth had gone dry anyway. 

He patted Silas’s shoulder. “Silas, this is Mister Canutt. He’s a bull rider.” 

Silas’s eyes grew wide. “For real?” 

“Yes, sir. For real. Rope, pleased to meet you, Silas. Are you enjoying the event?” Rope held his hand out to Silas, the smile warm. 

Jude had to smile back at the awed look on Silas’s face as his son shook hands with Rope. Silas nodded but didn’t say anything at all. 

“Silas is very curious about how it all works,” he offered, trying to help things along. 

“Well, you see them bulls? Stock contractors bring them up from all over the country. Buckin’ bulls are special types of livestock.” Rope kept jabbering, telling Silas how bull riding worked in that soft, lilting voice. 

Silas was riveted, listening to every word like it was so important. It was the first thing Silas had shown real interest in since they’d lost Nigel. 

“Can I see the bulls?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, bud. Rope is working, you know.” 

“Those beasts aren’t pets, but I might be able to introduce you to Harker’s horse, Jimbo, after the event.” 

“Really?” Silas’s eyes lit up. “Is that okay Daddy? Please? Can I?” 

He nodded. “If Rope can manage it, but you have to promise not to be upset if he can’t, okay?” Not that he really expected a seven-year-old to be able to keep a promise like that, but at least he could say he tried. 

“Okay! Thank you! Oh. I have to get a program so you can sign it!” Silas climbed right over the back of his seat and disappeared into the suite. 

“Harker won’t mind. He likes kids.” Rope held out his hand. “Jude.” 

“Rope.” He took the offered hand and shook it, grateful they’d had Silas as an ice breaker. “Thank you for all of that. It means more than you know.” 

“No problem. None at all. Good to see you, man.” He got this shit-eating grin. “You look fine.” 

“I was thinking the same about you.” He felt the tips of his ears heat up and he was surprised that Rope could still make him blush. “It’s nice to see you again. I’d ask how things are going, but I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” 

“Fixin’ to retire. Having my final year. Good stuff.” Rope smiled down at Silas and took a Sharpie out of his pocket, signing the program. “Here you go, little man. If you come down after the event, we’ll see Jimbo.” 

“Thank you!” Silas was so excited. 

“We’ll be there.” He wasn’t ready for Rope to walk away yet, but he wasn’t sure why. “Good ride.” 

“Every one you walk away from, yessir.” Rope shook Silas’s hand and his. “Looking forward to seeing y’all later.” 

He watched Rope go, enjoying the view of Rope’s ass in his Wranglers, and wondered if Rope was hoping he was watching.

Title: Roped In
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09VD8LB9T
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-72-7

Deviations: Domination

April 11, 2017 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #2
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 324

In this sequel to Deviations: Submission, Dom Tobias and Sub Noah are back, learning more about each other and their relationship, and testing the boundaries of what they can and can’t handle, both together and apart.

Tobias works at becoming more comfortable and finding his balance as a full-time Master again. His work brings out the true submissive in Noah, who faces some of his greatest fears, and his greatest secrets, finally confessing to Tobias about a terrible time in his past.

But Noah is 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 hold onto their balance together.

Dominations is a deep exploration of the BDSM scene, with secondary characters who enhance the story and a central romance that has the reader rooting for Tobias and Noah to work through their obstacles and come out stronger.

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Also in this series:

 

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: Domination
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839M66Z6
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-19-2

 

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Purchase it from Juno Publishing directly,
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