The Barn: Zeke and Wesley

May 12, 2025 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Barn #1
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: May 20, 2025
Pages: 270

Zeke and Wesley is an opposites attract romance set in Alaska at a resort for queer men. It features a professional songwriter who is haunted by a past relationship and a fundraiser/event planner who is looking for an adventure.

Wesley Dugan raises money for other people for a living, has finally decided he needs to spend a little on himself for a change. He wants an adventure, somewhere that he can indulge his appetites without making promises to anyone. The Barn is an exclusive Alaskan resort that is highly regarded in the scene and promises kinky delights, assuming Wesley can brave his fear of flying to get there.

Zeke Burrell is about to celebrate a major anniversary. At nearly a thousand days, he imagines he’s spent more time at the Barn than anyone but the owners. To Zeke, the resort is his home and his sanctuary, where he can write music and find peace in his routine.

When they meet, Zeke is surprised to be so curious about the resort’s newest guest. Wesley doesn’t expect to become so infatuated on the first day of his vacation. While their desires brought them to the resort for the same reasons, the rest of their lives couldn’t be any different. Zeke prefers quiet and solitude, while Wesley enjoys the company of others and a good party. Zeke has a complicated history, but Wesley’s couldn’t be more straightforward.

Is it possible for them to find the balance they crave both in-scene and out?

Buy the Book: Amazon

Chapter 1

 

Wesley was still feeling wobbly when he stepped off the plane. The Xanax he’d taken before he left Sacramento ought to have worn off long ago, so he assumed what he was feeling now was the gin.

He hoisted his backpack higher up on his shoulder and took a few more steps, following the signs for the baggage claim. He didn’t remember taking off, or the stop in Seattle where he fortunately didn’t have to get off the plane. He did remember ordering a drink, though he couldn’t say whether it had been his first, and he remembered the incredible scenery as they approached Juneau.

He’d never seen anything like it. Huge blue and white glaciers lined with black sediment cutting through rocky, snow-capped mountains and spilling into smooth, green water. And all within clear view of the airport.

He was relieved to be on the ground, though, and the unfamiliar surroundings, the strange airport, and what was left of his buzz reminded him that he was finally on vacation in a place where he could be himself, away from the eyes that judged his every move.

“Mr. Dugan, sir?” A blond man in a canvas field coat and hiking boots gave him a wave. “Are you Mr. Dugan?”

He nodded, realizing that this must be the driver he was promised. “I am.”

“Was your flight okay? How are you feeling?”

“I don’t remember much of it to be honest, and I'm still a little…” Drunk, most likely.

“Not to worry; we have an hour or so to go.”

“Let’s hope that does it.” And if not, he’d check in and take a nap.

“No stress, Sir. No one will expect you to be on as soon as you check in. This is a wild trip to Juneau. Everyone needs time to adjust.” He got a warm smile. “I’m Caleb, by the way, and I’m happy to help you out.”

“Thank you, Caleb. I appreciate the help, especially at the moment.” It had been rude of him not to ask the young man’s name, but he’d put his issues with flying in his personal statement, and Caleb seemed to understand that he wasn’t at his best.

He pointed out his suitcase, and Caleb retrieved it, then led him out into the beautiful, cool spring day. There was a luxury Jeep waiting for them, and he was already feeling like he might live.

No stodgy black car, no city traffic to wade through, and when Caleb called him “sir” it wasn’t because Caleb didn’t know his name or because he was the boy's employer. It wasn't even because he had money. Caleb was deferring to his status as a Dominant. Just like his reference to “boy” was about Caleb clearly being a sub.

So fucking refreshing.

He climbed into the front seat and pulled out his phone, intending to check his texts now that he’d landed, but instead, he thought better of it and shut the thing off.

He wasn’t that man here. Not entirely anyway. He took a deep breath to shake off the remaining cobwebs, glanced at the sub in the driver’s seat and smiled. “I am so ready for this.”

“Yes, Sir. I can tell you the Barn is a lovely place to unwind.”

“So, do you work for the management as a driver, or were you instructed to pick me up today? I have to admit, I’m not clear on all the details. I’m here on a recommendation from a friend.”

“I work for management, and I asked to come. I love driving, and it’s a glorious day. There are a couple of other boys who pick up guests, but one has the day off, and I won at Roshambo.”

He gave Caleb a nod and a smile. “Congratulations. And I think you made the right choice. It’s a perfect day to be out in all of this scenery. The view from the plane was stunning.” Even if it had made him anxious. He’d left his window slightly open for the fresh air, though, and was just about clearheaded now. “Thank you for the ride.”

“It’s absolutely my pleasure. Is there any place you’d like to stop in town before we head up into the resort?”

He went with his first instinct. While it was true that he’d slept most of the trip, he was still pretty beat. “I don’t know anything about Juneau, but I assume I’ll have the opportunity to come back and explore at some point. I think I’d like to go get settled in.”

“Yes, Sir. Just lean back and relax. It’s about an hour and a half out, maybe less.”

“Thank you.” As long as they were on solid ground, he didn’t care how long the drive was. He was in fucking Alaska. Everything his eyes landed on was something he’d never seen before.

Title: Zeke & Wesley
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0F7N1TRY3

Wholly Trinity

January 15, 2023 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #3
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: January 31, 2023

Dr. Isaac Daniels and Detective Neil Thrope have been on and off Dom and sub since they met a few years ago. Isaac is all in but he’s not everything switch Neil needs, so good as things are between them, they both know it’s not enough.

Being in the BDSM community, Isaac and Neil were there to help when sub Alain Remy Broussard was assaulted by a pair of Doms who didn’t ascribe to the notion of safe, sane, and consensual. Their friend, Dom and therapist Cyrus Hughes offered Alain a place to stay, and has been working with the boy to help him regain trust. When Cyrus is called out of town suddenly, he calls on Isaac, who agrees to take Alain in while he’s away.

Isaac feels instantly protective of Alain, but it’s Neil who quickly bonds with the sub. With Alain in the house, Neil might have found the balance he craves but thought was too much to ask for. Isaac, though, has only ever had that kind of connection with Neil. Will the Dom be able to get on board and love both men as they, and he, deserve?

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

Chapter 1 

 

“I appreciate this, Isaac. I apologize for the lack of notice.” 

Lack of notice? It wasn’t like Cyrus could possibly have known that his client was going to die, let alone when. Tragedy wasn’t something to be scheduled, though it was just like Cyrus to wish he could. Isaac put his cell phone on speaker and set it on the desk, then opened his briefcase beside it. 

“Don’t worry about a thing, Cyrus. Alain can stay with me while you’re in Texas, and until you’ve got your balance back. It’ll be fine.” 

He started stuffing files into his briefcase. He was going to have to get some work done at home tonight, and possibly reschedule some of his patients tomorrow, but Cyrus Hughes was the sort of man who helped everyone else; it was a rare thing that he asked for help himself and there was nothing Isaac wouldn’t do for him. 

“Thank you. I can’t predict how the next few days will go, but—” 

“Cy. Alain will be just fine with me. I understand his needs, and I’m happy to do this. Just focus on yourself for a few days, for god’s sake.” He knew what Cyrus was going through losing a client; he’d lost a few patients over the years himself. Those feelings could be incredibly difficult. 

Cyrus sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Yes. I’ve got some…things to work through.” 

He snorted. “Feelings, Cyrus. They’re called feelings. Give it time. Go get your closure.” 

Cyrus cleared his throat. “Thank you, Isaac. I’ll be in touch.” 

“Take care. Safe travels.” Isaac hung up the phone, closed his briefcase and headed out. Once settled in his cab he called Neil to see if he was available. This would be easier as a two-man job. 

“Hola, Guapo.” 

Isaac rolled his eyes at the nickname. Neil Morrow had latched onto the compliment upon their first meeting, and he absolutely refused to give up on it. 

“Hey, there. What’s your schedule tonight? Are you free? I need you to help me with something…or, well, someone.” 

Neil chuckled softly, but there was something raw about the sound. “I’m on a week’s leave without pay, thanks, so I’m in. I just got to my apartment.” 

A week would work, but…what? He was going to have to unpack this with Neil more formally later. “Without pay? Sounds like we have something to talk about. But I have to be honest, it’ll have to wait, because this is a bit of an emergency. Can you meet me at Cy’s place? Alain’s going to stay with me for a bit.” 

“Sure, man. No worries. You want me to drive over or not?” 

“Yes, please. We’ll have to pack a suitcase for him. Cy will be gone when we get there, because he had to fly to Texas for a funeral.” Cy said the doorman was expecting them and would let them in. 

“Texas? Like my Texas? Who died?” 

Neil’s Texas. Seriously? 

He could hear the door close, and Neil started heading down the stairs toward the garage. 

“No, Texas, New Jersey. Yes, idiot. Your Texas. One of his clients hung himself. A sub.” Most of Cyrus’s clients were subs. Maybe all of them. 

“Oh fuck. That sucks hard, man. I’m sorry. Seriously. Did the little bit know the guy?” 

It did suck. “I didn’t get that impression. Cyrus had no intention of taking him along. He just doesn’t want Alain to be alone overnight.” He didn’t even know what Alain knew, or how the boy was going to feel about being dragged out of Cyrus’s place. “I hope he’s cool with this. I have no idea.” 

“If he freaks, I’ll call Peter. We hang out quite a bit.” 

“I love that your subby half has little friends,” he teased. He couldn’t help it. Peter was a good boy, and very, very taken. 

“Fuck off, Guapo. You don’t know what to do with me.” Neil’s laughter was warm, and Isaac could see Neil’s expression in his mind’s eye. 

If he was being honest, Neil was the handsome one. But he wasn’t planning on being that kind of honest today. “Oh yes I do. And I’m looking forward to what I get to do with you once we discuss why you’re on leave without pay.” 

His cab stopped at the curb, and he punched the button for a receipt out of habit. He didn’t need it; he wasn’t getting reimbursed for this house call. “I’m here.” 

“I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t scare the kid. He’s just a baby.” 

He rolled his eyes again. “Seriously, Neil? I’m not scary,” he replied, knowing damn well he could be a scary Dom if he wanted to be. Right now though he was just a friend. Maybe a doctor if need be, but mostly a friend. 

“Yeah, right. Terrifying. I’m the good cop. Mostly. See you in a bit.” The phone went dead. 

“Butthead.” He climbed out of his cab and went inside, where the doorman practically fell over himself to make sure he got into the apartment right away. Cyrus must have given him the fear of god or a big tip. Or both. 

Isaac hung his coat up and set his briefcase down in the foyer. Cyrus had a nice place, and this front area was where he greeted his clients so it was formal and tidy. “Alain?” He called out as he made his way down the hall. “It’s Isaac. Master Cyrus said you’d be expecting me.” 

The young man came out, expression more than a bit worried. “Dr. Isaac! La, did you hear? Poor Master Cyrus, losing that poor man.” 

“I know. He’ll be okay though; he’s going where he needs to be. You look good, Alain.” Worried, sure, but stronger. 

“Thank you, Sir. Master Cyrus has been a dear man. He’s taught me a lot, yessir. I’ve been working on finding a job, something good so I ain’t leaning all the time on the good men in my life.” 

“That’s admirable. Do you think you want to wait tables again?” New York restaurants were loud and full of people, and he wondered if Alain was ready for that after everything he’d been through. 

“No, Sir. I was thinking about cooking. I make some good southern food, me. Gumbo, jambalaya, shrimps, muffuletta—I know it all.” There was a confidence in the boy now, a tentative happiness that was new and appealing. 

“That sounds great. I remember Peter told me you liked to cook. You should cook for me sometime, I’d love that.” Okay, now for the hard part. “Did Master Cyrus explain what was going on? I need you to pack a bag so you can stay with me for a little while.” 

“He did, yeah. He said he didn’t think I was ready for a weekend all alone.” 

Poor kid. “He cares about you. He just wants to make sure you’re looked after, because that’s what a Dom does, right?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a little full-time Dom life for a few days. 

“Yes, Sir, and I’m grateful that you both care about me. Thank you ever so.” So polite. 

And pretty too, with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “It’s my pleasure. Let’s get you packed up.” He put a hand on Alain’s shoulder and steered him toward the guest room Alain had been using. 

The room was simple, but comfortable, with a bed and dresser, a green quilt over a rack. Alain seemed to be living out of a duffel instead of the drawers that Cyrus had provided, and it only took seconds to grab hair- and toothbrush. 

“Neil’s coming for us, bringing his truck. We’ll get you settled at my place. My guest room isn’t this big, but it has a nice view. This is…this is everything?” He’d have to talk with Cyrus when the man returned from Texas. 

“It is. There weren’t much left in the apartment, eh, and Peter dealt with what all was there.” Alain offered him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach the dark eyes. “Are you hungry? I can cook you something…” 

Right. Alain and Peter’s apartment had been ransacked after Alain was assaulted at that club. Neil had told him all about it. What an awful thing. It had to make everything feel so much worse. “Thank you, boy, but it’s late. I think we should get you settled in so you can rest. I’ll take you up on that tomorrow night though, how does that sound?” 

“Whatever you need, Sir. I’ll be good as Granny’s couche-couche, hmm?” 

He chuckled as he nodded. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds dirty.” He assumed it wasn’t, but man… Alain literally spoke another language. 

“Yummy, more. Although, it’s good for a lazy breakfast after getting it on, eh?” 

“That sounds like a good morning to me.” Good Lord. The way Alain said “getting it on” was the next best thing to the actual act. How did Cyrus live with this delicious boy without losing his mind? 

“A la! I hear that. Master Cyrus don’t have no sexy times. He ain’t into me one bit, but he’s been so dear, and me? I learned all the things, I swear.” 

“Master Cyrus is a good man.” A good man with blue balls apparently. “Once you learn things, then you have to go out and use them though. Right? I’m interested in hearing about what you’ve learned.” 

A submissive’s work was Cyrus’s specialty, and that meant addressing someone’s whole self. Helping them figure out what they needed and then giving it to them. 

The buzzer went off in the hall. 

“Oh, that’ll be Neil. Are you almost ready?” He hurried down the hall to tell the doorman to let Neil up. 

“Yes, Sir. You want to meet him down there?” Alain looked so little carrying that big duffel. 

He looked little because he was little. He was like half of Neil. “That’s a good idea.” He hit the intercom. “Ask Neil to wait, please. We’ll be right down.” 

So there, Neil. He thought smugly as they got in the elevator. I didn’t scare him or make him cry. 

The big, buff blond waited at the bottom of the elevator. “Hey, y’all. Lord, give me that duffel, kiddo. You’re gonna collapse under the weight.” 

He’d known Neil would offer to get Alain’s bag, which was why he hadn’t. “Hi.” It was tempting to kiss Neil’s cheek, but things with Neil were…complicated right now. Hell, Neil was complicated all the time. With Alain here, Isaac wasn’t even sure which Neil he was dealing with. The switch was really good at walking that middle line. 

Sometimes they were friends, sometimes Dom and sub, sometimes one or the other with wild benefits. But he wasn’t everything Neil needed. That just wasn’t possible. 

So, no kiss. Just a smile. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Any time.” Neil didn’t look at him, just took the bag, and when Alain gasped, Isaac was totally surprised. 

“Lord have mercy, what happened to you, Jole Blon?” 

“Fistfight. I won.” 

“Sure you did. You come from Texas.” 

Won…and lost a week of work without pay. He wasn’t sure he’d call that winning. “Let me see, Neil.” 

“It’s no big deal, Doc…” 

Oh. Doc. That meant stitches. 

“Fine. Take us home. I’ll look at it later.” He didn’t want to argue in front of Alain. Now that he knew Neil was hurt, he didn’t want to argue at all; in fact, he wanted Neil to answer his questions with “Yes, Sir.” But that was going to have to wait until Alain was tucked in. “Car?” 

“Right here.” The big SUV was an extravagance, but Neil used it for work with the Special Victims Division, and at times like these, it came in handy. 

They got Alain settled in the back seat and headed home. “Are you okay? Did you start it?” 

“Seven stitches. He deserved it, and I’d do it again.” Neil’s lip curled. “I hate dirty cops.” 

He sighed. “Neil. You can’t save the whole world by yourself.” How many times had he said that? 

“You gon’ have a neat scar, Officer,” Alain murmured. 

“I can try, though. I can sure as shit try.” 

He rested a hand on Neil’s thigh and let it be. It was too soon; Neil was still too angry. “Alain’s right. You’re going to have a fancy Frankenstein scar.” 

“You’ll check the stitches and make sure they’re right. You always do.” Neil’s huge, bruised hand covered his. 

“I will.” I’ll take care of you. “Alain’s offered to make dinner tomorrow night. I hope you’ll join us.” 

“Sure. I got no plans but watching TV in my apartment for a week. Whatcha cookin’, Cajun?” 

“Couche-couche first, then whatever Mister Doctor Sir asks for.” 

“Yeah? I ain’t had Cajun breakfast in ten hundred years.” Neil chuckled softly. “I don’t know that Doc has cornmeal or a cast iron skillet, kiddo.” 

“Well, that might be the first thing we do tomorrow. Shopping. What do you think, boy? Are you ready to try some food shopping?” He thought maybe he had cast iron, but Neil did all the cooking in his kitchen, so he’d know better. 

“Oh, yes, Sir. I know groceries. I can fix you all whatever.” 

“I’ll leave the menu to you, boy.” Alain seemed happy to be going out. That was good. So tonight he’d deal with Neil, and tomorrow the boys would have a nice day. He glanced at Neil. “You know where to park.” 

“I do. It’s almost like I’ve been here once before.” Someone was pushing hard, daring him to take control and give Neil what he needed. 

“Then you know what to expect,” he replied. He didn’t snap, but his tone was a bit curt. Dry. Don’t test me in front of Alain, boy. Had he known Neil was going to be a handful, he might have handled his evening differently. But here they were, and he would deal it. He refused to let Neil ruffle his feathers while Alain was watching. 

“I do.” Neil chuckled softly and parked the SUV. “I swear, my head’s so big I’m going to explode with a terrifying kaboom.” 

“I’ll have a look at it. You get some ice and some Tylenol when we get inside, please.” He got out of the cop-mobile, grateful for his long legs, and opened the door for Alain, who climbed down like he was scaling Mount Kilimanjaro. 

Neil stepped out and went around to pull out Alain’s duffel, hauling it up on his shoulder. 

It was strange to be more concerned about Neil than Alain at the moment. Alain had recovered well from his assault physically, and it seemed like time with Cyrus had really helped him emotionally too. He and Neil had had long discussions themselves at the time to get past their own anger that someone could try to claim to be in their community and abuse a boy so terribly. Neil had saved the world then too and put the men responsible behind bars. 

He’d never asked what condition those assholes had been in when they arrived at the station. He really hadn’t needed to. 

“Alain, the guest room is here.” He stopped in the hall. “It’s pretty small. There are sheets in that chest against the back wall.” 

“It’s perfect, Mister Doctor. Thank you for letting me stay. I surely appreciate you.” God, that voice was sweet, lilting, and Isaac liked the way it reminded him of music. 

“I’m glad to have you. It will be good to catch-up.” He stepped aside to let Neil put the duffel down on the bed, then caught his sometimes sub by the arm. “Tylenol. Ice. Did you eat?” 

“Not since last night. Spaghetti.” Neil let him look, the stitches starting near his eye and leading across his temple, the gunpowder stippling obvious. 

Someone had shot at Neil, at close range. 

He swallowed hard against the sick feeling in his stomach and caught Neil by the nape, finding the hazel eyes and looking into them. He didn’t hide his frown or his worry and tried to say something, anything. He couldn’t find the right words, and gave up, pulling Neil into a tight hug. 

Neil trembled in his arms, arms wrapping around to hold him tight, and that spoke volumes, those heavily muscled arms keeping him close. 

“Jesus, Neil.” He told himself he was allowed to be upset for a minute. That gunpowder was fucking terrifying, and he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. “I’ve got you. You’re okay now.” 

Alain was doing his best to look invisible, sitting on the end of the bed with his nose in some magazine Isaac had obviously left there. Such a good boy. He wondered if he should ask Alain to throw something together for Neil after all. 

“Let me stay a minute?” Neil whispered, the sound so very soft. “Please, Sir?” 

“You’re staying the night, boy. I insist.” That was that. Neil had been clear, finally, so the rest was up to him. “Alain, could I trouble you to make something easy on the stomach for Neil, please? Just help yourself to my kitchen.” 

“Yes, Sir!” Alain’s face lit up. “I’m on it. Poor chou. That looks like it hurt.” 

“I’m okay, kiddo. Don’t you worry.” 

“I’ll cook. You’ll be so good. You see.” Alain grinned at them both and slipped past them into the hall. 

“The kitchen is at the far end.” 

Alain nodded and hurried down the hall. 

Isaac let Neil go but kept hold of one hand. “Let’s sit. I want to know what happened.” 

 

Title: Wholly Trinity
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09RLMLV4G

New Tricks

May 8, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #4
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: May 21, 2024

Kit Swann is starting over when he moves himself and his miniatures business to New York. Living on his own in the city can be lonely, so he starts watching the local gay bar from the coffee shop across the street, and he finally decides to take a chance on it, working up the courage to go inside.

Elijah Russo has been looking for a full-time lifestyle partner for a long time. So long he’s ready to give up on finding someone who can be everything he needs. He thinks Kit might be the one, but he knows Kit is inexperienced with some of his specific requirements.

While they learn to love each other, they must also navigate Elijah’s insecurity, Kit’s big secret, and the trauma left by the accident that left Kit a widower. If they’re going to bring their very different lives together, they’ll have to teach each other some new tricks.

Buy the Book: Amazon

Also in this series:

 

Chapter 1

How many bars had Kit walked into? 

It had to be a hundred, maybe more. Shit, definitely more. 

Honky-tonks on the bull-riding circuit. Dive bars when Kit was hunting a cheap drunk. Gay bars to get laid, to dance. 

Speakeasies and upscale lounges which had master mixologists with Ron. 

That thought made him grin. Jesus, Ron had been addicted to fancy-assed spaces with cushy sofas and perfectly coiffed cocktail waiters. 

This place, though? Man, it was just a friendly neighborhood gay bar—masculine and relaxed right now, but he could see the lights and mirrors, and he knew it wasn’t always that way. 

It was a weeknight, so he wasn’t surprised to find the dance floor empty. The tiny little raised platform probably meant there was live music sometimes, or comedians or something. 

He caught a quick view of himself in the mirrors along the dance floor but didn’t look too hard. Mirrors were for watching and flirting, and he was just here for a drink. 

“Welcome!” A tall man behind the bar called out over the music and gave him a friendly wave. The place was lively but not crowded, with most people—men—sitting in booths talking and drinking. 

“Hey, there. How’s it going?” He just wanted a beer, or maybe a whiskey neat, he thought. Something he could sip and sit with. 

“Well. Very well.” The man’s dark eyes seemed to swallow up the light over the bar. “And yourself? Out wandering on this beautiful night?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m new to town, and I saw this place from the coffee shop across the way. Looked friendly.” And he was friendly, mostly. Except when he wasn’t, he guessed. “What’s y’all’s specialty?” 

“Tonight, good whiskey and local beer on tap. On the weekends, we tend more toward vodka drinks in colors that don’t appear in nature.” The bartender set a glass on the bar and poured out a Jameson’s whisky before pushing the glass in his direction. “Welcome to New York. That one’s on me.” 

“Well thank you, sir.” He held out one hand to shake after slipping a twenty in the tip jar. “Kit. Kit Swann.” 

“Lester Gray. Les, like the neon says.” Les winked at him, and his handshake was firm and confident. “Where did you move up from?” 

“Northeast Texas, originally, but my last home of record was Monterey, California.” Lord, the owner. How cool was that? “You got yourself a nice place here.” 

“Thank you. It’s home. But I’ve been to Monterey. It’s gorgeous. I can’t imagine leaving if I lived there.” 

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous. The ocean is amazing.” And he was never going back. Not so long as he lived. 

Les gave him a nod, and he appreciated that the man seemed to know when to stop asking questions. “New York can be beautiful too, especially in the spring. If you can handle the rain, May and June are blue skies and flowers in the park and sparkling views of the river. You’ll get to like it once you understand it.” 

“I’m loving it. It’s so different, and there’s so much to do and see. I’ve eaten at a different restaurant every night.” 

“That’s a great start. The food is as diverse as the city. Do you have a place? What do you do for work?” 

“I have an apartment right around the block. It’s lovely, and I’ve got enough room to have a workspace. I’m a woodworker, of sorts.” A teeny tiny one. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s interesting. Like a carpenter? They’re in demand for sure.” 

“Sort of. I make upscale miniatures for collectors, movie sets, photographers, that sort of thing.” He’d started it as a hobby while he was job hunting in California and had discovered a real knack for it. He especially enjoyed making replicas of ornate pieces. He could lose himself for hours. 

“That sounds very cool. It’s different. Movie sets, huh? Oh. Excuse me a second.” 

Les pulled his phone out of his pocket, looked at the screen, and took a couple of steps away. 

“Hello, boy. Oh? And Master Cyrus is okay with this plan? You have my permission, but I need you at the bar by noon tomorrow, Milo… I know… I love you too. Be good. Good night.” 

Do not stare. 

Don’t. 

Do not embarrass yourself or this nice man. 

He wanted to, though, because he’d seen… well, he’d studied a lot. Fiction. Nonfiction. Blogs. Everything he could get his hands on. 

He’d never actually met anyone into BDSM, and maybe he still hadn’t, but he wasn’t going to be rude, regardless. 

He was going to sip his whiskey and chill. 

“Sorry about that. Some calls I have to take. You doing okay on that whiskey?” 

Of course he hadn’t noticed the silver key around Les’s neck until just now. 

“Yes, sir, and no problem. I’m just sitting a spell.” And he didn’t have that particular type of call anymore. 

He had, though. He’d had some amazing calls with Ron. 

Les leaned on the bar. “So you saw my place from the coffee shop, hm? How long were you checking it out before you came in?” 

“A couple of days.” He’d wanted to see who came in and out, and he’d enjoyed telling himself stories while he’d people watched. “It was interesting to see all your clientele.” 

“I bet.” Les snorted. “We get quite a range. I’m pretty proud of that actually, that pretty much anyone can be comfortable here.” 

“It’s got a good energy. Y’all pretty busy on the weekend?” He’d probably not try that for a bit, but maybe. Maybe just to be in the midst of all the excitement. 

“Very busy.” Les smiled and looked around the place. “The dance floor is open, there’s a band or a DJ, and I usually staff three bartenders, a couple of bar-backs, and at least one busboy. And if there is any excuse for a party, I’ll find it.” 

“Wow!” Yeah, he’d be a once or twice on a weekday patron. “Good for you. I know it’s tough, running a place.” 

“It used to be when I was trying to get it off the ground. There were a lot of sleepless nights and long days. But I have a good crew now—loyal, hard-working—and I love all the weekend chaos. It’s just who I am.” 

“Go you! It’s a thing, right? Know thyself?” Kit used to know himself, but he had changed, on a cellular level, so he was still working that out. 

“To the extent that one can, yes. We all change and grow… I assume that’s what you’re trying to do, moving three thousand miles across the country.” 

He might as well be honest, right? He nodded and took a deep breath. “I lost my husband two years ago. I needed to figure out who I am now that I’m not his other half.” 

Les sighed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I apologize.” 

“No. No, it’s okay. He wasn’t a secret. I’m sure I’ll mention him a lot.” He wasn’t ashamed of being a widower. He’d been well-loved. 

Les nodded. “I’m sure I’d love to hear about him.” 

“That’s the kindest thing anyone has said to me in a while.” Even if it wasn’t true, it was a lovely sentiment. 

“I’m a barman. I listen for a living; I like to hear stories and get to know people.” 

Kit chuckled and nodded to Les, tipping his glass. He didn’t even know where to start. “Ron was a software designer and brilliant. He was killed in a drive-by shooting near his office. He never even felt it. He was a great guy, and I loved him a lot.” 

“Damn. That’s a lot. I can’t imagine that happening to someone I love. My boy Milo? That would be devastating.” 

“It’s tough.” But he’d survived it. “So that’s why I left the West Coast. He was everywhere. Absolutely everywhere I looked.” 

Ron had hated the East Coast, so Kit was here. 

“I understand.” Something about Les made him believe that was true. “Can I offer you another splash?” 

“Just one, please. I have to find my way back home.” He winked at Les, then rolled his eyes dramatically. Like he was a lightweight. 

Les gave him a healthy pour in his glass. “Not to worry. I’m an expert at calling my guests an Uber. And I do hope you come back soon; I think you’ll find friends here, and I’m sure Ron would want that for you.” 

“He would. He would have loved this place. I’m glad to have met you, sir. Honestly.” He would be back. 

 

Title: New Tricks
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0D2WV6534

Lost Boy

January 11, 2025 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #5
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: January 28, 2025

Lost Boy is an opposites attract, sub top, size difference, BDSM romance featuring a strong but gentle veterinarian and a K-9 police dog trainer with a fiery temper.

Veterinarian and Dom Leo Aetos adores animals, has a great apartment in Brooklyn, and even has a favorite bar. The only thing he doesn’t have is a lover and a sub to share it all with. Finding that man is easier said than done because he’s searching for someone with very specific needs. He needs a sub who steps out of the stereotype and that's tall order. Much like he is, at well over six feet.

K-9 Police dog-trainer and sub Chris Kinney figures there’s no way he’d be anything close to what Leo wants. His last D/s relationship failed miserably and he is convinced it was his own fault. He just couldn’t be sort of sub his ex needed him to be. Worse, he struggles with his temper, and he’s not even sure he belongs in New York.

Leo wants to take Chris on despite Chris's misgivings, with some help from his friends at Les’s Bar. He knows pretty much right away he’s not going to want to let Chris go, but will he be able to convince Chris they can both get what they need, without the ex threatening their new relationship?

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Lost Boy – Chapter One

“Hello, is this Mr. Muffins?”

Leo walked into the exam room where a little girl was holding an all-black cat with gorgeous golden eyes. She nodded to him, her pigtails swinging around her shoulders.

“He’s getting fat.” She was very serious, but her father snorted a laugh.

“We’re not overfeeding him.”

“Okay, so, let’s see what’s the matter with him. What’s your name?” Leo took the cat and put him on the table. He was very well-behaved, well-socialized, and didn’t mind being handled. That was very helpful.

“Amy.”

He did a quick palp of the cat’s belly. “I think I may know…” He flipped the cat over carefully and had a look, pushing fur aside. “I have your answer. Mr. Muffins is pregnant. So…she’s not a Mr.”

“She’s having babies?” Amy looked absolutely thrilled.

“What?” The dad actually took a step forward he was so surprised. “He’s a she?”

Leo nodded. “The chart says she’s an indoor cat, but has she gotten out in the last couple of months? She must have, right?”

“Yeah, actually. She jumped out an open window, and we lost her for a couple of days. Amy was so upset. But he—she—turned up near our building, and my wife found him. Her.”

He wasn’t sure how no one noticed a cat in heat, or why she wasn’t fixed as a kitten, but none of that mattered now so he didn’t even ask. “Well, she is now Ms. Muffins, and she’s got some babies on board. Congratulations!”

“Wow. Okay. I was thinking tumor, so I guess this is best-case scenario.”

He put the cat in the carrier that Amy set on the table for him and closed the door. “On the way out, stop by the front desk, and pick up the brochure on dealing with pregnant cats. And once she’s had the kittens, bring her back to get her fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Aetos.” The dad stuck out his hand.

“My pleasure. Good luck.”

Amy skipped down the hall behind her dad and he followed. “Lexie? No charge for Mr. Muffins, and please change his name to Ms. Muffins and her sex to female in the chart.”

Lexie laughed. “You got it. You off the clock?”

“Yes. I am going home. But before I go, can you order me some more scrubs?”

“Sure. Let’s see… size super extra crazy tall, right?”

“You got it. And husky.”

Lexie laughed again. “Husky. I like it.”

“Do they have Minions?”

“Uh…” Lexie started scrolling. “Captain America?”

“I have those.”

Lexie pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes. “Kermit the Frog…”

“Got ’em.” He loved them too. They were actually fuzzy pajamas, not scrubs, and they were comfy.

“Sully?”

Hold up. “Ooh. Yes. Get me Sully. But do they have Minions?”

“I don’t see Minions except in normal big people sizes. Not Hulk.”

“I have the Hulk.” He had several pairs in fact, because people thought they were funny and gave them to him as gifts all the time. He would never run out of Hulk pants. He sighed. “You know, are Minions really too much to ask for?”

“Hey, they have Little Mermaid!”

“No shit? In my size?”

“They totally do.”

That was a no-brainer. “Well, I need those. Obviously.”

“Obviously. Is that enough for now?”

“I guess so. But I’m going to keep asking about Minions, so keep your eye out.”

“If I see them, I’ll just order them.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Lexie.”

“You got it, King of the Jungle.”

He rolled his eyes. There wasn’t a big, tall, or giant joke he hadn’t heard. Not one. But they were all in good fun, and he didn’t mind.

There was no reason to get all caught up in drama when there was so much joy out there to discover, after all.

He changed out of his Lightning McQueen scrubs and clogs and into blue jeans and boots making his six-foot-four frame even taller, pulled on a clean T-shirt and his jacket, and headed out into the still-cold early-spring evening.

He got on the subway and had two stops to make up his mind before the train took him home. If he got off and changed trains, he’d leave Brooklyn and head into Manhattan where he’d spend his evening at Les’s Bar.

Or, he could go home, curl up on his couch, and watch a movie.

One stop… two stops…

Oh why not? He got off and switched trains.

The bar would be warm, busy, and a decent place to spend an evening. There was something about Les’s—not fancy, but absolutely not a dive. It was simply a good place for men of his predilections to hang out.

The only drawback, living in Brooklyn, was the bar was a bit of a trip. But he always sprung for a ride home. He could afford it, and at the end of the week, he deserved a little treat.

He got off the subway and walked the last couple of blocks, arriving after happy hour, but it wasn’t too late to order a bite to eat. He smiled as soon as he walked in the door, glad he’d decided to come out. He was always so relaxed here. He glanced at the booths where they normally sat people that wanted to eat but walked right by them.

He just didn’t fit. He always ate at the bar.

“Master Leo! How’s it going?” One of the bartenders offered him a warm smile. “Good to see you.”

“Drew.” He smiled. “Always good to see you. May I please look at your menu?” He always asked to look even though he practically had it memorized. “And whatever cabernet you have open. Thank you.”

“Of course, Sir.” In moments, he had a glass of wine and a menu, along with a warm smile.

“Thank you, boy.” Drew was adorable, and every sub in here knew just how unattached he was, so he got a lot of hopeful smiles. He wasn’t that guy, though. He didn’t take just anyone home for some fun. He had a weird tendency to crush on adorable subs whether they were really suited to his needs or not.

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t just like people; he fell a little bit for almost everyone.

“Dude, did you hear about Master Neil’s friend?” One of the little ones was gossiping to his bar mate. “My Master took me to the diner, and we saw him. He’s crazy, man. You can see it in his eyes.”

“Boy.” He interrupted in an admonishing tone. “I don’t think that kind of gossip appropriate in this setting.” Neil probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

One of them whispered, “Dammit,” while the other said, “Sorry, Sir!” in a tone so bright it was ridiculous.

Neil was in law enforcement, if he remembered correctly. It didn’t seem like Neil would have an unstable friend who worked in a diner. But then, one of Neil’s partners was a shrink, so anything was possible.

They weren’t at the bar often, honestly. He saw them once a quarter, maybe. Isaac didn’t seem like the bar type.

He looked the menu over and put it down, waving Drew back to him. “Spaghetti and meatballs, please. And what is this about Neil’s friend? Is Neil okay?”

“Master Neil? Oh, they’re talking about Chris. He’s a dog trainer. He’s from… somewhere with mountains. His apartment flooded, and he’s been staying with the three of them. I’d question more if Master Isaac is okay…”

“Four of them under one roof? That’s a lot. A dog trainer is cool though.” It sucked to lose an apartment, though. “You’re probably right about Isaac; he’s a routine guy.”

“Yes, Sir. Very much, and Alain and Neil are up and out at four a.m., while Chris is a night owl, so…”

“Oof. That sounds terrible.” He shook his head. “Why are they saying he’s… unstable?”

“He’s a bit of a wild one, that’s all. You know, a little bit of a drinker, one of those ‘I’ll submit if you can force me’ types.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Oh yeah? So, no Dom of his own, I take it.” Interesting. He wasn’t sure what “wild” really meant though. “I’m sure Isaac loves that.”

Isaac could put his foot down, but he wasn’t one for a fight. He knew that much.

Drew shook his head, lips twisting. “No, Sir. They were in here a few nights ago, and Master Isaac took Alain home.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll give Neil a call and see if he needs some help.” He could take the boy out for an evening, give them all a break. He knew his way around a willful sub; they’d be all right for an evening.

“Somewhere with mountains” made it sound like the boy didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Oh, you are the sweetest man, Sir. Let me put your order in. Xavier’s in a great mood, so the food should rock.”

“Tell him extra garlic.” He wasn’t going to be kissing anyone tonight.

Leo pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to see if he had Neil. Neil was a switch, an interesting guy. They’d flirted a little once, but he backed off when he found out about Neil’s needs. He knew he had a problem with investing in subs, and that would have been a poor investment for both of them.

Neil was a fascinating person, though, and could tell stories about when he’d been a cop for days. Now that he co-owned a diner with his lover, Leo could only imagine how amazing the stories had become.

He didn’t have Neil’s number. Hm. “Hey, Drew? Can you find me the number for Neil and Alain’s diner? Or even Isaac’s number would work.”

“Let me get Les for you, Sir. He’ll be able to help you.” Oh, good boy—protecting their customers.

He ought to have known better. “Of course. Thank you.” Drew ducked through a swinging door, and Leo waited for Les. Just as well, because Les might have more details. Maybe he was overstepping by thinking he could help. It was possible that Neil wouldn’t want it, of course.

But Neil was capable of saying “No, thank you,” and being perfectly polite about it.

Les came out from his office, a smile on his face. “Dr. Aetos! Welcome.”

He stood and offered a friendly hand to shake. “If it isn’t the Les, of Les’s Bar.” He grinned. “Good to see you.”

Les bowed, then snorted. “It’s good to be seen. Sorry about Drew. We have rules about giving out information, and he is… scrupulously honest.”

“No, Drew did exactly the right thing, I ought to have known better. I overheard something about Neil having a challenging visitor, and I thought I might be able to help. I can contact him another way. Stop by the diner, maybe.” The food was amazing, it would be a worthwhile trip.

“Yes. Oddly enough, Isaac had to take Alain out when they were here, and I believe Neil and his company are staying in a hotel…”

“Oh my. That’s worse than what I’d imagined. Did you meet this friend when they were here?” Maybe volunteering to help was a poor idea.

“I did. He’s…” Les pursed his lips. “Not a man you would take as a submissive. He’s very willful, strong, hungry for a struggle and unapologetically so.”

Not a man he’d take as a sub. Interesting. “Is he actually a sub? Or is he just a guy with issues?”

“Neil seems… very sure. Incredibly sure.”

“Hmm. It sounds to me like Neil has a problem.”

“Yes, well—we do know that is an issue for our friend, don’t we?”

He nodded. “Do you have any sense how long this guy is going to be in town?”

“Oh, he worked with Neil. He trains K9 dogs for the police.”

That probably meant that Neil was going to get the guy a job. “So… permanently. Issac must be a wreck. I barely know him, but I know enough.”

Les rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. “Hopefully things will work out quickly. Isaac hates being at odds with Neil.”

“I’m going to drop by the diner. I kind of like the headstrong ones. They can be fun. Maybe I can give them a night off. Thanks for all the info.”

Drew came out with a plate of pasta and meatballs that made his mouth water from three feet away. “Oh. Come to papa.”

“Enjoy, Sir! Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Let me know how things go with Neil. I’m interested.” Les tapped the bar. “Enjoy your dinner. Always good to see you.”

He nodded and managed to say thanks around his bite of meatball.

Dinner at the diner tomorrow. That was a plan. The rest he’d play by ear. He didn’t mind. It sounded like fun.

 

 

Title: Lost Boy
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0DSCQQHM1

Sin Deep

July 17, 2022 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Sin Deep Series #5
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: July 26, 2022

Winter Love knows how to give. He gave himself his own name after all, and he’s given love to many young men who later moved on with someone they wanted more. Too many. So he’s stopped putting himself out there to be hurt by the young little birds he prefers, though he does still enjoy going to the gentlemen’s club where he has a membership. He’s older, old-fashioned, eccentric, and content to be more about people watching these days.

Harley McBride is new to New York City, having left his home in Texas for a more welcoming town. He’s hard-working, friendly, and has a curious nature, which means he’s having a great time meeting people. When his roommate takes him to an interesting new club, he decides to introduce himself to a man who is fascinating to him, even from across the room.

Caught off-guard, Winter takes a chance in return, and asks Harley to let him make up Harley’s dark eyes. Things begin to heat up, and the two of them connect in ways that neither of them could have anticipated. But Winter knows he needs to tread carefully, and Harley is used to being independent and handling things on his own. Will they be able to find a path that suits them both, or will their relationship stay simply sin deep?

Sin Deep is set in The Cowboy and the Dom universe and features an opposites attract, May-December relationship.

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Title: Sin Deep
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0B67GQK5F

 

Chapter One 

 

Winter Love wasn’t giving up anything for Lent; he never had and he never would, but he participated in Fat Tuesday every year as if he planned to starve himself until Easter. He’d pulled on a rich, green shirt, a gold tie, and a brand-new purple and gold masquerade mask for the occasion, and he was looking forward to a night out. Maybe Mardi Gras was a New Orleans tradition, but The Big Apple could give The Big Easy a run for its money. 

Along with the New Year’s Eve ball and the Halloween costume party, Mardi Gras was one of his favorite nights at Sin Deep. He’d been a member of the kinky club almost as long as he’d lived in New York. Nearly as long as he’d held his job at the public library. He’d started out as a young man, eager to experience new things, to lose himself in the scene. 

Winter studied his boots as he sat in the back of a black sedan. He’d been through countless pairs of chunky, authoritative black boots over the years—boots with buckles or zippers, punk and biker and military style, even a tall pair with silver studs going up the back when that was in fashion. The pair he’d stepped into tonight was new; he’d treated himself as an early fortieth birthday present. They had a nice western heel and toe and the leather was rich and soft. They were more stylish than intimidating, but possibly the most comfortable pair of boots he’d ever owned. 

They suited his almost forty-year-old image better too. He wasn’t eager now. He wasn’t cocky like he used to be, or forward, and he wasn’t one to pursue men anymore. He didn’t feast quite like he used to; he’d grown into a man who preferred to taste and savor rather than devour. He’d earned plenty of respect and was one of the establishment members now; he didn’t need to impress anyone. He liked to watch, have a drink, occasionally make an overture…and he was never turned down. 

Winter’s car pulled up in front of Sin Deep, and he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The tall, heavy front doors stole his breath for a moment as they always did and he instantly broke out in goosebumps. 

Who was he kidding? That confident, forty-year-old club elder was essentially a fantasy. He’d never hunted anything more than a drink at Sin Deep, and although he knew that man intimately in the privacy of his own mind, the persona vanished in a puff of awkward smoke every time he walked through the front doors, leaving little more than a facade behind. 

He needed the place though. It was the closest thing to home he’d ever had. He was never more present, more relaxed than when he was here. Sin Deep was his drug of choice, his pleasure and his weakness, and Mardi Gras was always a good party, even for wallflowers. 

 

Chapter Two 

 

“Lord have mercy, man.” Harley plopped down with a sigh, grinning over at his roommate. “I busted my hump today.” 

No one had ever warned him that Yankees were just as bad about ragging the little guy as any bunch of rednecks. He’d done proved himself—he was nothing if not strong as an ox and stubborn as a mule with a burr biting his butthole—but Giorgio and Miguel knew what he could do and drove him like a prize pony. 

Paid him damn well for following directions, carrying shit from one place to a truck, then from the truck to another place. All-in-all, he came home with cash, burning muscles, and the knowledge that his muscles didn’t come from a gym. 

Today was a harpsichord. Who the fuck used a friggin’ harpsichord? Who moved a goddamn harpsichord? 

This little gal with fake boobies, bright pink hair, and a tattoo of a bird on her goddamn face, that’s who. 

Oliver snorted. “You bust your hump every day. Jackson told me two things about you. He said we were going to get along great, and he said I would definitely not have to worry about the rent while you were subletting his room. I totally believe him. What do you do for fun?” 

“Sleep.” He sprawled out, as far as he could. “Uh…back home I went to a couple bars, hung out, I guess.” 

“Exciting.” Oliver rolled his eyes and wandered into his bedroom. The apartment was small enough they could carry on their conversation without even raising their voices. “What is your drink of choice?” 

“I drink Bud Light. Shiner if we’re being fancy. I been known to like a margarita too.” But that was something you drank with your momma or your cousins. Not with the guys, which was stupid, but true. 

“Oh no, no, no, Harley. Sweetheart. That won’t do. Why don’t you come out with me tonight and let me buy you a real drink?” 

That ‘sweetheart’ always made him blush. 

He’d come to stay for a couple months just because Jackson swore this was a friendly place, somewhere he could just be him, and he was having a ball. Especially now that Jackson had decided to stay in Rome for another couple-three months, and he could keep on keeping on. 

“Yeah? You want to?” He had a pair of pretty clean jeans. 

“Yes. Be my date. It will be an adventure. Trust me. Go get dressed.” Oliver came out of his bedroom in his signature skinny jeans and a shiny gold jacket. He didn’t comment on the gold high-heeled booties, but they made Oliver look tall and lean, and there was glitter in Oliver’s short but curly dark hair. “It’s a Mardi Gras party.” 

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” He put on his cleanest jeans and a black t-shirt with his leather jacket and his boots. He didn’t wear his Stetson, because he’d learned quick that meant getting knocked around a ton. He had a cap. 

“Oh, you look so handsome! No hat? Are you sure? Would you like some glitter for your hair?” Oliver held out a mask covered in purple sequins. “And here. You’ll need this.” 

“No glitter, thanks.” Lord, could anyone imagine? “I’ll wear my cap.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might pop out. “Suit yourself. Take the mask, though. You ready? My Uber is here.” 

“I am.” He grabbed his wallet and the mask. “Let’s hasta.” 

He did like him an adventure. 

The car ride didn’t take that long, but that didn’t mean he had any idea where they ended up. “My guess is you’ve never been to a party like this one, sweetheart. Just stick with me for a bit until you get your bearings.” 

They got out of the car and walked up to a set of crazy tall doors that looked heavy but seemed to open by themselves anyway. 

“Is this, like, a funhouse? It seems like something in an amusement park.” That would be cool. He was up for it. 

“It can be. Tonight it’s just a party.” Oliver took his hand and pulled him inside. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting and by the time he had, Oliver was taking off his jacket. “I’ll check your coat with mine, okay?” 

Harley blinked, staring at Oliver, a little agog. “Dude! You are sparkly!” 

And wearing, like a…a…tube top. A sequined Harlequin tube top where his nipples showed, which made sense, since Oliver didn’t have himself boobies. It was like nothing he’d ever seen, but it was so totally Oliver that he just grinned and applauded. 

“Do you like it?” Oliver beamed and turned for him, showing off. 

“Oliver!” A guy in a purple vest and a feathered mask gave Oliver a hug. 

“Jesse! Oh, Jess—can you tighten me up?” 

“Of course. Let me see.” Jesse moved around behind Oliver and tugged until the top Oliver was wearing went taut across his chest.” 

“Ooh. Perfect. Jesse, this is Harley. He’s subletting while Jackson is in Rome.” 

“Harley? Like the motorcycle? I’m Jesse. Like the outlaw.” Jesse offered a hand like he expected Harley to kiss it. 

Harley shook, careful not to squeeze, because he wasn’t an asshole. He’d figured that out, and he wasn’t interested in seeming mean. “Pleased to meet you, sir. How goes?” 

Jesse laughed. “He called me ‘Sir’, Oliver. Where are you from, honey?” 

“Just west of Fort Worth, and I mean no offense.” He winked over. “Polite is part of my charm, I’m told.” 

“Oh my god I love him!” Jesse stepped between him and Oliver. “Welcome to the club, darling. Do you want to dance?” 

“Jess—” 

“You hush, Ollie. You brought me a handsome cowboy.” Jesse leaned a little closer to him, big blue eyes flashing, and he got a whiff of sweet cologne. 

“Now, can I trust you to keep me safe? Because Oliver’s told me to stick to him…” 

Jesse’s eyes went wide. “This is a very classy club, Mr. Harley. But don’t you worry, you’re safe with me.” 

“He is; his virtue on the other hand…” Oliver laughed. 

“I will be very, very careful with the cowboy, I promise.” Jesse took his arm. “It’s just a dance. You can dance, can’t you?” 

“Believe it or not, I can, and I like it.” He could do everything from wild flailing to waltz. He wasn’t fancy, but he wasn’t going to embarrass himself or his dance partner. 

“Charmer.” Jesse pulled him into the crowd. Oliver shouted after them that he’d be at the bar. “Is this your scene? How long have you been in town?” 

“Three months, two weeks, and five days.” Harley winked, laughing at himself. “And I don’t know that I have a scene yet, but this is absolutely my first time here!” 

And it was electric—sparkling and loud, exciting and overwhelming in the best way. 

Jesse laughed as they wove through the crowd, finally finding the dance floor. The lighting was purple and green, shifting with the music. “I can tell. You’re not dressed like you expected to be here tonight. I’m not complaining though, that t-shirt fits you just right.” Jesse’s hands slid over his chest before finding his shoulders and staying there. 

“Oliver didn’t need me upstaging him in his…top.” His hands landed on Jesse’s hips so he could find the man’s rhythm. “This okay?” 

Jesse nodded, stepping closer. “So okay. Go on and lead, honey. I can follow.” 

They started dancing, laughing as they figured out how not to murder one another’s toes. Three songs in, the DJ played a slow song, and he didn’t know Jesse that well, so he backed off. “Want to get a drink? I’m dry as a bone.” 

“That sounds—” 

“Jesse.” 

Jesse froze for a second and gave the tall man in a mask that covered half his face a sheepish look. “Oh, hi.” 

The man crossed his arms, silently, and Jesse looked at Harley. “Oops! I think I’m in trouble.” Jesse winked at him. “But you were a lovely dance partner. Tell Oliver to buy you that drink for me.” 

“Now, Jesse.” 

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. Coming. Bye, Harley!” 

The tall man caught Jesse by the nape and steered him away. He started to go after Jesse; that couldn’t be right. Was Jesse okay? But only made it one step before a hand caught him in the chest. 

“Let them be. It’s okay. This is their thing.” 

“You sure? We just met. He knows my roommate.” His brain insisted he needed to make a fuss, but his gut wasn’t near as sure about that… 

The man that stood there wasn’t so tall he was staring at his bellybutton, but at his chest, and the green eyes were sparkling at him. 

“I’m sure. I’ve known them both for years. You’re here with Ollie.” It wasn’t a question. The guy offered a hand. “I’m Winter.” 

“Winter.” That was a great name! “I’m Harley. Pleased to meet you, sir.” 

Winter. That was something else. Green-eyed Winter. 

“Hello, Harley. I don’t want to keep you from your friend. It was good to meet you. Enjoy your evening.” 

“Have a good evenin’!” He braced himself to head toward the bar, which was sure a crush of folks. There were more people in this building than in his whole hometown. 

Oliver wasn’t hard to find, being taller than most men and colorful too. “You’re back! I thought Winter might have scooped you up.” Oliver tapped the bar “Two whiskey gingers, Leighton.” 

“He wasn’t interested.” That was okay. He’d met two guys in five songs. One that was wanting to be friends was fucking great odds. 

Oliver snorted, eyes darting to the crowd and then back to him. “No? He’s been watching you all night. He’s watching you now.” 

“Stop it.” He was the least sparkly guy in a universe of glitter. A damn accidental black hole. “If he wants a drink, I’ll buy him one.” 

“He doesn’t.” The bartender sat two drinks down and pushed one toward each of them. “He’ll nurse the one he’s got for a while. And he’ll watch, it’s what he does. He’s definitely watching you.” 

“Thank you, sir. What do I owe you?” Now that the guy mentioned it, he could feel eyes on his back. 

“Nothing. A good time. You’re off to a good start. Did you have fun with Jesse?” 

“He’s fun, yeah. Have y’all been friends long?” He sipped the drink, finding it smoky and spicy, but with bubbles. He approved. 

“I guess. Maybe…five or six years? He’s been with Theo all that time. Very taken. So naughty.” Oliver sipped his drink. “He cooks too. Oh my god. Amazing. And this is a silly party night, but you should see him on a regular night. He’s beautiful. He’s just… I mean, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

“He likes to dance. I didn’t know he was with someone. I don’t like to be rude.” It wasn’t in his makeup unless he was fighting. 

“No worries. He liked you, but he was just playing, showing off for Theo. And even if you’d known he was taken, it was just dancing, Harley. Just fun.” 

“Cool. I just don’t know all y’all’s rules. If I can dance with him, that was good.” He thought it was something—how every group of folks, every single one, had their own sets of rules, and if you figured them? Then things worked easier. 

“Everyone’s rules are different, but in here everyone is family. No worries. You can’t get in trouble for having fun.” Oliver sipped his drink. “So Jackson says he’s staying in Rome for a while; are you staying in New York?” 

“I intend to, yessir. I think we do okay, rooming, you and me.” In fact, Oliver seemed happy as a pig in shit. 

“We’re good, sweetheart.” Oliver sipped his drink, then looked at him with a slight frown. “You know he’s not there alone, right?” 

“Jackson? Did he hook up with someone out there?” How fucking cool was that. Then he’d have a reason to go to Italy sometimes. It was always good to have a buddy to visit. 

“No. He went with his partner, Harley. He didn’t tell you he had a boyfriend?” 

“Nope. I mean, he never said one way or the other.” Which was sort of weird. They’d talked a lot about Jackson’s schooling, about Oliver, about the restaurant that he waited tables in, but not a lover? 

“Oh. Well. I’m sure he had a reason.” Oliver shrugged, and he had to wonder if Oliver knew what the reason might be. “Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be back for a while. Last I heard from him he was happy.” 

“Good. I’m all over happiness. He’s my good friend, you know?” He’d worry about whether or not he needed to worry about things later. 

Maybe Sunday. 

“Oh yeah, for sure. He talked about you a lot.” 

“Hello again!” Jesse was suddenly there, grinning widely with hands full of Mardi Gras beads. “I’ve been tasked with handing these out. Here, cowboy, you need some bling.” Jesse hung a handful of them around his neck. “Oh, much better.” 

“Good lord and butter.” He rolled his eyes, but he’d play along. No one’d asked to see his titties to get them, and he could use them to decorate his room. 

Jesse hung a handful around Oliver’s neck too. “See? I was careful with the cowboy.” 

“I appreciate it. He’s delicate.” Dude, butter wouldn’t melt in Oliver’s mouth. 

“That’s me. Like blown glass and shit.” 

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I want to see you dressed up. Dress him up next time, Oliver. Don’t you think he’d be beautiful?” 

Oliver nodded. “Go easy, Jesse. He’s new-new.” 

“Oh.” Jesse nodded. “Don’t worry, cowboy. You won’t be new forever.” Jesse kissed his cheek and moved down the bar, hanging more necklaces on people as he went. 

No. No one was new forever. He was going to enjoy all the fun of this, new or not.

The Trouble with Cowboys

January 6, 2024 by
Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Sin Deep Series #6
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