Flying Blind

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: East Meets Western #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: July 28, 2020
Pages: 427

Flying Blind

An East Meets Western M/M Romance

Sometimes the best thing about living in New York is leaving it.

When January Bell takes a risk on a business trip to Denver and introduces himself to the hot as fire rodeo cowboy across the bar, he has no idea what he’s in for. Hawk is like nobody he’s ever met, and Jan finds he is intrigued enough to want more than just one night with the deceptively complex man.

Hawk Destry is working hard to wring every moment he can out of his bull riding career. He’s used to beating the eight second clock, but he is slowly losing his eyesight and he doesn’t have a lot of years left in the sport.

None of that seems to matter, though, when Hawk meets January, who treats him like he’s worth more off a bull than on one, and who’s willing to work just as hard to be with him.

The two men have to deal with distance and traveling, unexpected challenges when Hawk visits New York, family on both sides, and neither of them saw any of it coming. Eventually even Hawk’s dangerous job is thrown into sharp relief when tragedy strikes. How will January and Hawk find their way if they’re flying blind?

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Chapter One

Sometimes the best thing about living in New York City was leaving it.

“What can I get you?” The hotel bartender was burly and handsome, with deep-set dark eyes under a heavy brow and an easy smile framed by a carefully trimmed beard.

January smiled at the man and slid a credit card across the bar. “Do you have Glenlivet?”

“Yessir, twelve okay?”

“That’s fine. A double.”

The bartender picked up his card and glanced at it. “Running a tab, Mister Bell?”

“Yes, thank you, uh…”

He got a friendly smile. “Alex.”

January nodded. “Good to meet you, Alex.”

“What brings you to Denver?” Alex pulled the bottle down from a high shelf and set a glass on the bar in front of him. “Business? A wedding?”

He grinned and shook his head. It was a hotel bar and he was wearing one of his favorite suits. Either one of those things was a good bet. “Just a couple of business meetings.” He wasn’t going to say much more, he didn’t like to talk about his philanthropy. But his foundation was always searching for new opportunities and sometimes he had to travel to find them.

Alex poured him a generous double, put the cap on the bottle and left it within easy reach. Good call.

A pair of women waved to get Alex’s attention and the bartender inclined his head. “Excuse me. We’ll get busy here in a bit. Wave when you need me.”

“Will do. Thank you.” He swirled his whiskey and sniffed it, sighing as the rich, warm scent filled his nostrils, making his mouth water. The weather report was on the TV over the bar and he was surprised that despite the altitude, it wasn’t much cooler in Denver than it was back home. Even so, the Mile High City was much more pleasant than the Big Apple tonight.

January touched the glass to his lips, savoring the burn as that first jarring sip soaked into his tongue and slid down his throat, setting him tingling. They’d split up months ago, but this was only his second trip without Lucas and, although the bar was lively, he still felt lonely.

Or no.

Not so much lonely as alone.

He was bad at alone. He’d been both blessed and cursed with a strong, extroverted personality. He could talk to anyone, but he really did need someone to talk to, and his first glass of whiskey was always too quiet.

A raucous band pushed and bounced through the door—cowboy hats and jeans and an amazing array of sports tape and IcyHot and bruises.

“Yo, Alex!”

“Guys, Coors Light all around?”

“All but for Charlie here, man. He lost his fight with Railrunner.” One of the cowboys bellied up to the bar, damn near blinding him with a wild, excited shit-eating grin. “Let’s make him a virgin something frozen.”

Cowboys. One more reason to love Denver.

“You got it.” Alex set four silver cans on the bar. “One fakey Pina Colada, coming up.”

January glanced at the cowboy over his glass. “Somebody is on the good drugs, huh?” This cowboy seemed pretty beat up too.

“Got his ass trampled in the dirt, yessir. Made his ride, though.” God, that smile—part Dennis the Menace, part Mathew McConaughey.

Made his ride? Come on, Jan. You’re a smart guy. The pieces were floating around but he wasn’t putting them together. Injured cowboy, summertime, Denver.

Trampled. Did cowboys do MMA? January tilted his head, failing to get a look at the eyes shadowed by the man’s hat, though he caught the bright blond hair well enough.

“Railrunner, huh? Son of a bitch.” Alex peered over his shoulder at the group of men in hats as the blender whirred. “Is Charlie still on the roster for tomorrow? My girl got tickets for the show. I might have a little money on him.” Alex grinned at the cowboy sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Tickets.

“Sure he is, but you wasted your money. I’m in a solid third, and I’m taking the short-go and the event, you watch.” The guy didn’t seem to be worried in the least, or offended.

“It’s no fun to go after the easy money.” That was an obvious tease. “I guess I’ll see how you do tomorrow, won’t I?” Alex shut the blender off, poured the frozen mixture into a glass and set it on the bar. A couple of arms reached between January and the cowboy and pulled all the drinks off the bar, leaving one beer behind.

I’ll take rodeo for five-hundred, Alex. “Bulls?”

“Oh, these crazy bastards are bull riders. Good guys, great tippers, but rowdy? Wow.”

Wow was right. But they were just having fun, which was good by him. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a bull rider.”

“You want me to introduce you to Hawk there? He’s hilarious. He’s like talking to someone from a movie or something.”

He did like the accent. The shoulders too, if he was honest. And the cowboy’s ass, if he let himself go there.

And why not go there?

“Sure. I’d love that.” He’d talked to celebrities before, even straight ones.

“I’ll make the intros when he comes to grab his beer.” Alex nodded to him, like he did this every day, which January supposed he did.

“Cool. Thanks.” Well, that would never happen in New York. He sipped his drink, enjoying the warmth and watched the group of men out of the corner of his eye. So much testosterone standing in those boots. It was hot as hell.

Hawk did, in fact, come for his beer, nodding to Alex as his hand wrapped around it. “Charlie says you did good, man. Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, you met Mr. Bell here? He’s in on business.”

“I haven’t.” Hawk turned to him, eyes hidden behind thick, little round glasses, and held out one square, scarred up hand. “Hawk Destry, pleased to meet you.”

It only took him a second to decide it wasn’t worth the risk of getting his ass kicked, so when he shook Hawk’s hand he was careful to keep it all business, despite the allure of that stubborn chin. “January Bell. Good to meet you too. Alex says you’re a bull rider?”

“That’s the rumor.” Hawk climbed up on the barstool next to him, the man laughing at himself. “Some days I do better than others.”

January grinned. “Didn’t you say you had this one in the bag?”

“I sure did, and I stand by that. Assuming I get a good draw, my bull rope doesn’t pop on me, and I keep riding like I have, I’m golden.” Hawk chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Good thing I tend to ride good late in the season, huh?”

He wasn’t sure how Hawk managed to pull off arrogance and self-awareness at the same time. It was fascinating. Maybe the smile kind of smoothed out the edges. Whatever it was, January liked it. “Your draw is what? The order you ride in?”

“The bull you ride. The order goes by ranking. Right now I’m sitting in third. We’ll see if I can’t improve it.”

He’d love to have this cowboy in the bag. “Are any of these guys ahead of you right now?” He knew he was wasting his time, but January dared to lean in a little anyway and took a sip of his whiskey.

He swore he saw Hawk’s nostrils flare, the man tuning into him. “Charlie is, but he’s hurting bad.” The words were a fascinating mixture of sympathy and complete lack of care. “Tell me about you, now. Here on business?”

“Yes. I’ve got a couple of meetings, then I head back to New York.” He tossed out a bone. “Just three nights.”

“New York, huh? I been there a couple times for events. It’s huge and shiny. Lots of folks.”

“It’s both of those things. I love it, though the hustle and the crowds can get a little much sometimes.” Thankfully he had a little sanctuary on the Upper West Side with a view of the park. He spoiled himself, he knew. Even his suite at the hotel was a splurge. “Did you like it when you visited?”

“Sure did. I like seeing new stuff. My job keeps me on the road a lot, so it’s a good thing.” Was Hawk checking him out? Surely not. They didn’t make gay cowboys, did they?

“I get away once a month or so. More in the summer if I can find an excuse. It’s hot in the city. I like the mountains, even if I don’t get there as often as I’d like. I have a great view from my suite though.” He turned on his stool and swept the hem of his suit jacket off his hip to give Hawk more to glance at, if in fact the cowboy was looking. “Do you drink scotch? This is a nice one.”

“Is it?” That smile flashed again. “Let me buy us a round, then. See if our tastes mesh.”

Oh ho. So cowboys do come in gay. Sweet.

January caught Hawk’s arm as the man reached for his wallet, trying again to get a peek at Hawk’s eyes. The glasses were adorably geeky, incongruous under the hat. “Let me, please.”

There was a sizzling moment where the air between them burned, and it was blistering, dangerous, and sexual as hell. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He let go of Hawk’s arm and waved the bartender over. There was no reason to play games with the pull so strong and clear between them. “Alex? I’ll take the bottle, and I’d like to close out my tab please.”

Alex seemed a little confused but nodded and punched something into the register. “You got it.”

January dipped his fingers into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a business card and a pen, and wrote his suite number on the back.

“Sign here, Mr. Bell. I hope everything is all right?”

“Just fine, thank you.” He wrote in a generous tip and signed his name, then lifted the half-full bottle of whiskey off the bar and handed the business card to Hawk. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“Give me two shakes to finish my beer.” Hawk lifted the bottle and saluted him before he headed over to his friends, moving slow and giving him a chance to see.

“Making new friends with a sh-uit, Hawk?” Charlie was slurring a bit, but between the bruised jaw and the drugs that wasn’t surprising. “What is he, a sh-ponsor?”

Hawk looked back at him, winked, then turned back to the group, giving him a nice view at a tiny, perfectly framed ass. “He ain’t with the tour, man. I thought maybe he was a fan. Y’all going to get Charlie here up to his bed?”

He was definitely a fan. Just not of the rodeo.

He left Hawk to finish his beer and make whatever exit he needed to make and took his bottle of scotch upstairs to his top-floor suite, where he poured himself another shot of liquid courage. He didn’t feel guilty or awkward; those weren’t things he had time for. But it had been a while since he’d quite so obviously let his dick do the thinking.

It wasn’t long before a knock sounded on the door, shave and a haircut. Hell, even the knock was brash, bold. He set two glasses next to the bottle on the dresser and went to answer the door.

There was a cowboy at his door all right. Boots, hat, jeans, square shoulders, bravado and all. Something about the way Hawk was standing felt a little like a challenge.

“Hey. Come on in.”

“Thanks for the invite. I appreciate it.”

“It’s… good to be appreciated.” He’d heard a lot of pick-up lines, but that was a new one. He stepped aside to let Hawk enter, laughing gently as he closed and locked the door behind them. “Do you not get many invitations?”

“I’ve had a couple three. Just needed to make sure we understood what I came up for.” Suddenly Hawk was right there, solid as a rock, one hand on his hip.

“Scotch?” January teased.

Jesus. Hawk was giving off more heat than the sun. And with that touch on his hip, whatever electricity had passed between them at the bar was back, only this time without the restraint of public eyes on them, January could do what he’d wanted to do then. He reached for Hawk’s shirt and tugged it out of the well-worn wranglers, slipping a hand under the hem to rest on warm skin and the hardest set of abs he’d ever felt. “Damn, cowboy.”

“I live and die on core strength.” Hawk found one of his nipples through his dress shirt, thumb dragging over his skin.

Nothing like finding one of his hottest hot spots on the first try. January hissed and leaned into the touch, fingers going to work on Hawk’s shirt, buttons sliding open one by one from the bottom up. He inhaled deeply, the scent of hungry man making his balls ache. He reached up with both hands and touched the frame of Hawk’s glasses, raising an eyebrow. “May I?”

“Sure. Put them somewhere safe.” The stroking turned into a firm pinch.

His toes curled. That was fucking right. “Easy, I don’t want to drop them.” He took Hawk’s glasses, folded them carefully and set them behind him on the dresser, right next to the bottle of scotch. Didn’t get much safer than that. He bent a little, but he still couldn’t get a look at those eyes, hiding under the brim of Hawk’s hat.

He shrugged his jacket off catching it with one hand and tossing it over a chair.

“Where was I? Oh right. Here.” He fanned his fingers out across those abs again. “Living and dying.”

“Mmhmm.” Hawk put his hat, brim up, on the end table, exposing a short-cropped mass of white curls, and light blue eyes that were almost crystalline. Impressive. And lovely.

He pushed the shirt off Hawk’s shoulders and took a light, tentative kiss, wondering, asking. Not every man he’d known was into kissing a one-night stand. The answer was straightforward and direct—Hawk kissed him like he was storming a beach at Normandy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. It was so on.

He helped Hawk get the shirt off while they fought for tongue positions and with each other’s buttons and zippers. He got his fingers under Hawk’s waistband and cupped a smooth, hot ass cheek that was nearly as muscled as the cowboy’s abs. Fuck, that was hot. He worked out, but January felt like a marshmallow next to this guy.

Hawk was like a marble statue come to life—chiseled and hard, but still burning with his need. Burning he understood. He shouldered Hawk toward the bed. “Sit.” He gave Hawk a light shove to make his point and tugged the man’s jean’s over his hips.

“Let me get my boots, or I’ll be caught at the ankle.”

“Boots? Oh.” He stepped out of the way and watched as Hawk wrestled with the boots and the denim. Huh. He’d file that under things to know before fucking a cowboy.

He kicked off his own shoes while Hawk dealt with footwear drama and tossed his shirt aside with them.

Hawk stripped down, showing off a heavy cock, icy pubes, and a set of feathers inked over his collarbones.

“I hadn’t planned on bringing a stacked, sexy cowboy to my suite tonight, you know. I thought I’d be finishing another glass or two and watching a game on TV.” He kicked everything aside and stood at a short distance, letting Hawk have an eyeful too. Hawk seemed so young, naked and blue eyed and without that hat. He felt a little old.

“Mmm, that would be a waste. Look at you. I could eat your happy ass alive.”

He was a little more interested in Hawk’s happy ass, frankly. He moved forward, the proximity making him burn and his fingers long to touch. Hawk’s blond curls were baby soft as he ran his fingers through them and long enough to tug.

So he did. “How about my cock instead?”

“Oh, I do like a man that knows what he wants.” Those icy eyes flashed up at him. “You going to get it up again and fuck me like I need?”

Wow. Those eyes. And talk about knowing what you wanted. “Not to worry. I’m only offering you a taste, cowboy. We had an understanding, I think.”

“Only a taste, hmm? We’ll see about that. I’m pretty damn good at what I do.” Hawk cupped his balls, squeezing enough to bring him up on his toes.

Okay sure good whatever you want. He leaned into the touch. Something about this guy made him so ready to let go. But he had plans too.

“Humble. I’ve heard that about cowboys.”

“Meek. Mild. Salt of the earth.” Hawk understood how to unfasten another man’s slacks.

“Four for four.” He watched Hawk’s scarred fingers work, thinking they were surprisingly delicate for someone that spent most of their time with thousand-pound animals.

“You forgot hard as nails and twice as tough.”

He sucked in a breath as his cock and the air-conditioned room met. “Oh, now you’re talking about me.”

“Mmm, look at this fine bit of rope.” Hawk measured him, base to tip, then did it again, lips opening to take his tip in.

January sighed and reminded himself to be patient, but his fingers made a fist in the cowboy’s hair anyway, blond curls popping up between his knuckles. He knew without asking that Hawk would be more than ready for whatever he wanted to dish out, but he was still a gentleman despite all appearances at the moment.

First times and all, right?

Hawk cupped his balls, rolling them and making him gasp, even as Hawk’s mouth dropped down and down, the blistering suction surrounding his prick.

“Mmm.” All right, it seemed like Hawk did have something to brag about. January spread his feet wider and arched his hips forward, his eyes glued to that hungry mouth. Hawk went down on him like a Hoover, taking him in to the root and swallowing hard before moving back up to work his tip.

He closed his eyes to feel for a minute, enjoy Hawk’s heat. Hawk’s mouth was heaven, he could let the cowboy take him all the way like this for sure. Sometime, when he was with a lover he knew he’d see more than once, he would let himself indulge again. But he wanted Hawk. He wanted that strong, muscled body underneath him.

Soon. January shivered and groaned as Hawk swallowed, throat going tight around his prick. Maybe soon-ish.

In a minute.

First, he needed to enjoy what this cowboy could teach him about flying.

“Jesus.” He opened his eyes again. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me when you win tomorrow night.”

“Mmhmm…” The hum sent vibrations all the way through to his bones. Fuck, Hawk was too good at this.

Too Goddamn good, and he’d had a little scotch. “Enough.” The word came out softer than he’d intended, raspy in his dry throat. He tried again, with more conviction. “I said a taste, cowboy. That’s enough.”

He tugged on Hawk’s hair, and his cock popped out of Hawk’s lips. They both groaned at the loss, with Hawk swaying on the mattress.

“That’s it.” He did appreciate a man that enjoyed giving head. “Crawl on up there and let me see that ass.” It was a thing of beauty in blue jeans, and Hawk obviously knew it. January was looking forward to what the denim had been hiding.

Hawk crawled up to the head of the bed, pretty little ass swaying back and forth to tease the fuck out of him.

“Mm-mm.” He reached across the bed to give one round cheek a love-tap, then slid out of his trousers. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a perfect ass?”

“Oh, flattery will so get you laid.” Hawk knelt up tall, ass cheeks clenched tight.

“Proud of it, are you?” He knelt right behind Hawk, coaxing Hawk’s knees open a little wider with his own, and slid his hands along the line of Hawk’s hips until they met, stretching wide again across those killer abs.

“You know it.” He could feel the way those muscles worked to keep them both upright.

He pressed close to Hawk’s back, letting his cock nestle into the warm cleft of that fine ass, and tasted a scarred shoulder with his tongue. That earned him a soft moan, and Hawk rocked back, ass teasing the hell out of him.

“There’s a little black bag next to your hat on the nightstand. Can you reach it?” So, he hadn’t made plans, but he was prepared anyway. Nothing put a damper on a spontaneous tryst like stopping in the hotel gift shop for a rubber, or worse, discovering it was closed.

“You got it.” Hawk settled deeper, thighs parted as he balanced and reached. Oh. Oh, that was the promise of pure sex. He slipped a hand through that inviting gap and cupped Hawk’s balls. They were silky and heavy and filled his whole hand.

Even better, they were shaved, smooth as silk, making all sorts of promises, each one better than another. Something told him waxing wasn’t cowboy standard issue. So intriguing, this man. A tangle of stereotypes and contradictions that Hawk simply owned, without shame or apology. It was sexy as hell.

“Tada!” Hawk straightened up, chuckling as he did. “That’s a right obliques workout. I’ll have to remember that.”

“I know I won’t forget it any time soon,” he teased and unzipped the little pouch pulling out what he needed. “That was a truly memorable view.”

Hawk put his hands on the wall behind the bed and arched, showing off shamelessly.

He swallowed hard. “Damn, Hawk.” January slicked a couple of fingers and touched the cool lube to the cowboy’s beautifully presented hole.

“Guy’s got to know how to get what he needs.”

“You don’t have to beg me, cowboy. I’m all in.” He slipped one finger inside, twisting it and circling the rim before adding a second.

Tight. He could only imagine that heat around his cock, working him. Milking him.

And Hawk was definitely focused and clear about what he needed. Jan was looking forward to blowing the cowboy’s mind a little. “I’m so ready for you.”

“Bring it on.” Hawk was so fierce, so in control of what he wanted.

January moved in close and lined up, wondering for a second if it would be rude to remind the man to breathe. “We’ll start easy.” He hooked one hand around Hawk’s hip and used his body weight to start to push inside, groaning as he met the natural resistance of Hawk’s body.

He heard the soft, shaky exhale, the first hint of any vulnerability at all. The truth of it was beautiful though and it made him shiver, the chance to own a piece of the cowboy’s swagger, even for an hour, giving him a thrill.

“I’ve got you.” He bent over Hawk’s back and rocked forward, sinking deeper into that incredibly tight heat. “Breathe. It’s good.”

“Yeah. Fucking A it is.” Hawk leaned toward him, hips moving in a steady rhythm that threatened to steal his breath.

He worked with Hawk, picking up the cowboy’s rhythm and taking it deeper, stronger. The way it built up on its own was so sweet, made him ache just right.

“Oh honey, like that. Just like that.”

That was better. That sounded like need.

“Yeah.” January focused on Hawk, his own need slowly building. “You’re going to lose your mind before I’m done with you.”

“Promises, promises.” Hawk gripped him, squeezing hard enough to steal his breath.

“Fuck,” he managed to bite out, followed by a deep grunt. Hawk was way too fucking together. He reached under and caught the cowboy’s thick prick in one hand, gripping it tight.

January felt that response, all around his cock, and the soft grunt that he got from Hawk proved that he had the cowboy’s attention.

“Hot.” He stroked hard several times before letting go and taking hold of Hawk’s narrow hips with both hands instead. He picked up the pace and drove in deep, moving beyond Hawk’s direction and taking them where he wanted to be.

Hawk reached down with one hand, pumping himself hard. With the couple of brain cells not busy, January managed to be impressed with Hawk’s balance.

That was the end of rational. He hauled back on Hawk’s hips. The sound of their bodies coming together over and over filled the room along with their rough breathing. He was determined to hold out for Hawk, but that sweet ass clung to him, hot and tight, and it took all his concentration.

“Come on. Harder. So fucking close.” The words weren’t a plea; they were a demand.

“Pushy fucking cowboy.”

He set his jaw, stared down the back of Hawk’s damp, blond head and thrust hard enough to send both of them rocking toward the headboard.

That was it. That earned him a cry, but nothing coherent at all.

So there.

January took a breath and focused on Hawk, dishing out more of the same until Hawk gave up trying to counter him. The cowboy melted around him, the heat increasing as Hawk gave in.

It was hard to resist the draw of Hawk’s shining skin and tired muscle; he could lick the man all over. And he might, later. At the moment his body was screaming to let go, and it was all he could do to keep up his nearly savage pace.

Hawk’s shout echoed as he shot, every pulse of pleasure echoing around his prick.

“Yes!” Oh sweet fuck yes. He fought through the tight grip around his hungry prick and took the last of what he needed—a handful of quick, shallow thrusts—and followed the cowboy over with a long, relieved groan.

Hawk slumped toward the wall, panting hard under him. It felt good, knowing he gave Hawk what he needed.

He shivered as he pulled away to ditch the condom, then he got a little of that taste he wanted, dropping kisses across the cowboy’s back. “Lie down with me. Stay a while.” He’d never kicked anyone out. People left and he got that, but he liked it if they stayed.

“Yeah? I can do that.” Hawk exhaled, settling down, turning toward him.

Score. He was happy to hold that body for a while. He extended an arm, inviting Hawk to move in closer. “You good? Okay?”

“Better than. I may have lost a few brain cells with that orgasm.”

He huffed, a weak laugh about all he could manage. “Well, they’re happily somewhere with mine. That was great.” He inhaled as Hawk settled in, more intrigued by the cowboy’s scent than he should be. He was truthfully more intrigued by Hawk in general than he should be.

Cowboy. Seriously, he’d had the orgasm of the year with a rodeo cowboy in Denver.

“Nap? Stay as long as you want. The suite comes with a killer breakfast.” He wanted Hawk to stay, and not because it was more food than he could possibly eat alone.

“Does it come with a round two?”

Oh. Heck, yeah. He wanted that too. “Are you kidding? That’s hours from now. We’ll be on three by then at least, don’t you think? Four?”

“Oh, I do like how you think.” Hawk snuggled right in with a moan.

He circled his arm over Hawk’s shoulders. “I’m told I snore a little,” he teased, talking through a huge yawn.

“I’ve been rooming with cowboys for fifteen years, honey. You could be the Latvian chain saw drill team and I could rest.”

He laughed, or thought he did. He tried anyway. And January fell asleep with an arm full of studly, irresistible cowboy.

 

Title: Flying Blind
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08CL2H4MR
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-34-5

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Deviations: Discipline

Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 312

Tobias and Noah explore their relationships more deeply than ever, not just through their own Dominance and submission, but by engaging with their friends. As Noah helps Tobias through the loss of someone dear, he finds Tobias helping him too, leading Noah through some intense sexual games, breaking down the last of his fears, and helping Noah face the biggest one of all: the cage.

Meanwhile, Tobias's ex-lover, Phantom, becomes close friends with Noah and they discover and try to resist the simmering sexual tension between them. Their playful teasing turns to real support when Phantom reaches the breaking point due to a lack of consistent Master in his life; something Phan desperately needs.

While Bradford decided he has to stand in as that Master for a while, Tobias and Noah go to Paris, where they see the sights, go to a sexy club, and re-negotiate their contract. Returning from Paris to their own lives brings them all sorts of new difficulties, from deciding whether they should live together, to trying to figure out just where Phantom belongs in their ever-changing relationship.

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EXCERPT FROM DISCIPLINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Title: Discipline
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839N7PBF
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-19-2

 

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Wholly Trinity

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?

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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, muffulettaI 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

Seeds and Sunshine

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: East Meets Western #4
Genre: , , , , , , ,
Release Date: September 19, 2023
Pages: 211

Shiloh Williams lost his husband in the bullriding ring two years ago and hasn’t been able to move on. It’s been so long since he was happy he’s forgotten how to be. After making the long drive up to Vermont to visit friends, he finally decides that getting out of Texas might be the only way to leave the hard days of his past behind.

Tate Dutton is a high school math teacher in Burlington, and a part time driver for a local brewery in the evenings. It takes more than his teacher’s salary to keep his small dairy farm afloat, but he loves it so much, he doesn’t mind the extra work.

Shiloh has taken up residence in the back booth of a local bar where he’ll nurse one whiskey all night long. Tate has seen the cowboy many times, as it’s his favorite hangout too. The first time Tate stumbles into a conversation with Shiloh it doesn’t go so well, but Tate doesn’t seem to get the hint and before long Shiloh has no choice but to indulge the younger man.

Is there any hope for these two? Time will tell whether the grumpy Shiloh or the sunny Tate proves to be more stubborn, or if friends will interfere and bring them together.

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Chapter 1 

 

Jesus, Matty. I can’t do this anymore without you. I’m trying, I swear to God, but I’m…lost. 

Shiloh Williams stared into the two fingers of whiskey he’d been nursing for an hour. There was just enough for a sip left. Enough for him to swoosh around and pretend that the lights swirling madly were because he was drunk and not because his eyes were filled with unshed tears. 

He came in here to this little hole in the wall every night and sat at the back of the bar. He handed Kris a twenty, took his whiskey to the back booth, and stayed until closing time when it would be too late to disturb Skyler with a phone call, too late to do anything but walk down to the weird little apartment he’d rented on the fourth floor of one of the old downtown buildings. 

An apartment, baby? Seriously? You’re in a shitty efficiency apartment? My gardener? My baby that could spend hours in the yard, in the garden? In the greenhouse I had built for you? 

“Shut up, Matty,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking tired.” 

Shiloh had been exhausted for twenty-six months now. Worn totally to the bone since Percy’s Mission had managed to buck Matty off and hook a horn under his vest. Just as Lane Frost had died, Matty had been gone before they got him off the arena dirt. 

Matty’d been gone by the time that Shiloh had climbed into the ambulance. 

It was like his soul had bled out with Matty’s heart, in Dallas. 

Eventually he’d had enough of Texas. Maybe that was why, after damn near two years of insisting there was no possible way, he hadn’t argued much when Sky invited him up north for his charity event again. 

Now he was here, and he had stayed in Sky’s guest room for a month before he’d just sold everything barring the things that Matty’s folks had wanted to take and rented himself a place up here. He had all the buckles, the pictures, the shirt Matt had worn the day they got married and the one he’d died in. That was enough. 

“Hey, man.” 

Shiloh knew that kid. He came in with his friends a few times a week and played darts or pool or watched the TV. By this point, he knew a lot of faces, mostly because folks would wander by on the way to the head. This kid was the only one that acknowledged him, though, always giving him a wave before disappearing into the men’s room. 

He tipped his hat, offering the kid something that should look like a smile even if it didn’t feel like one. He got a sunny smile in return, so he must have faked it well. 

“Whoops. Occupied.” The kid backed out of the back area where the bathrooms were, chuckling and leaned against his booth. “That’s always so embarrassing, you know? Going for the doorknob and trying to turn it like four times, and by the time you figure out it’s locked someone’s shouting at you to wait a minute, which you didn’t hear over the music, and you’re like, sorry man! Ugh.” 

He arched an eyebrow, but he got that. “Nice thing about this seat. I know when someone comes out.” 

The kid blinked at Shiloh sort of like he’d grown a second head or something. 

You okay?” If this kid was fixin’ to have a stroke, he was leaving without his last sip. 

“Oh!” The kid laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking how brilliant that is.” 

That wasn’t something that he’d ever heard about himself. “Well, thank you kindly, sir. I appreciate that.” 

Now go on and let me wallow. 

A man hurried past them headed back toward the bar. “You’re welcome. My turn!” The kid pushed off the booth and moved away. 

He caught himself chuckling. Jesus, what a dork, but there was something harmless about him. 

Across the bar the guy’s friends were playing darts and one of them did something to make everyone cheer. He couldn’t see what it was, but when the kid came jogging out of the bathroom, they pounced on him. “Next round is on you, Tate!” 

“What? Dude, Dave did not win while I was gone. Someone cheated. This is a setup!” The kid—Tatewas laughing, eyes wide, but he was already pulling out his wallet. “I demand a rematch.” 

“Rematch! Rematch!” 

Christ, he remembered being that young and happy. Sort of. A long time ago. 

Maybe. 

Shiloh sighed softly and finished his drink. Time to go. He had reruns of Iron Chef America to watch.

Title: Seeds and Sunshine
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CG4VJGQS

Rich Girl

Contributors: Jodi Payne
Series: Sapphic #4
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: January 30, 2024

A Summit Springs shared-world Novel.

Rich Girl is a secret heir, opposites attract, millionairess and single mom romance set in the fictional universe of Summit Springs Colorado.

Scarlett Lennon died in a skiing accident five years ago, leaving behind secrets she’d been keeping to protect herself, her inheritance and her fiancée, Ella.

Single mom Ella Anderson works as a dispatcher for the mountain rescue squad in Summit Springs, Colorado. She is doing her best to make ends meet while she raises her five year old son on her own. She adores little Theo, and although she would never complain, she doesn’t have time for anyone else.

Natalie Lennon, is the youngest daughter of the Lennon family, who owns Pines Peak ski resort, and whose great wealth is well known in town and beyond. She has no career, no girlfriend, and no direction. What she does have is a lot of money. She’s grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth, not understanding at all what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck.

The two meet by coincidence in the Emergency Room late one night, where Natalie uses her clout to get Ella’s feverish and very sick little boy seen quickly, even insisting that Theo be seen ahead of herself.

Ella remembers Natalie, even though Nalatie doesn’t recognize her. The chance meeting touches off something bigger than either woman is ready for. Not just an unexpected relationship, but a dive into the past that shines a light on Natalie’s big sister Scarlett’s secrets, and the truth about Theo.

 

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Title: Rich Girl
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CPH5L1XM
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-98-7

New Tricks

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.

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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

Bigger Than Us

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Higher Elevation #4
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: November 23, 2021
Pages: 240

When Daniel McCaverty gets the call that his best friend and mentor up in Vermont has cancer, he expects to have plenty of time to go help. He never expects that Adam will be gone before he can get there, or that he will suddenly be in charge of Adam’s two small children. He’s a loner, an artist, and a wanderer. What’s he supposed to do now?

Mitchell Brown is a white-collar kind of guy. Organized. Careful. He has a plan in place for Adam’s kids long before Daniel arrives, and is shocked when Daniel is given custody. But for Vicky and Emory, he’s willing to put his hurt and confusion aside to help Daniel figure things out, to make the whole situation work.

Daniel and Mitch have to deal with a tidal wave of grief while getting one kid started in school, and keeping up with their work. But they’re going to have to figure out their unexpected attraction to each other if they’re going to build something together that’s bigger than either one of them alone.

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Chapter One 

 

“Jesus, Adam.” Daniel McCaverty had made it through the five a.m. flight from the Sunport, through Dallas and O’Hare. He’d made it through baggage here in Burlington and through the fucking line at Enterprise. He’d managed to drive about a mile before he looked around this place that was familiar but not, and had to pull over, sobbing against the steering wheel while the radio played. 

Daniel hadn’t understood when Adam had called last month and said, “Kiddo, I’ve got cancer”. He’d thought, oh, surgery and chemo and radiation. It would be tough with the kids, but he could come out after he’d delivered his last canvases. He would help for a few weeks and, one day, they would laugh together over how Adam’s thick black and silver hair had been gone during that terrible time. 

That was what was supposed to happen. 

Not a phone call early in the week that he’d missed because he was up on Angel Fire, and there was no signal. And then when he’d called back three days later, scared at Adam’s voice, Adam’s words, Adam’s goodbye, it was over. 

Fuck him. He hadn’t understood. 

Adam had told him not to worry. 

He never once thought Adam would actually die. 

After the storm had passed, Daniel pulled back onto the road, making the trip to Adam’s neat house. He’d helped Adam and Tina with adding a bathroom and another bedroom one summer. Another year, they’d put the deck on. He’d painted the nurseryfirst with Adam and Tina, then with Adam alone. 

Little Vicki would know him, but the baby? Shit, he’d been brand new before Daniel had left to work for a few months. 

“What the fuck happened, Adam? Seriously. Nobody dies from cancer anymore! It’s all about surviving. Don’t you fucking watch commercials?” His words echoed in the car, and he rocked with the intensity of them. 

He could almost hear Adam snort at him, saying “You can’t believe everything you see on TV, Dan-O.” 

Yeah. Yeah, like he even owned a TV. That was what he got for trying to be ironic. 

He pulled into the long driveway, the Escalade rumbling through the ruts. Someone needed to grade this before winter. 

The trees around Adam’s place were turning colors, some of them already orange and red like fire. That, he’d seen before, but Daniel hardly recognized the man sitting on the front steps. It had to be Mitch Brown underneath the beard and the baseball hat, but the last time he’d seen Adam’s business partner, Mitch had been clean-cut and in a sharp suit and tie. 

Damn. 

He probably looked like a wild man. He hadn’t bothered to change from his work clothes, and his jeans were spattered with paint. Daniel parked and opened the door of the SUV. “Mitch? Hey. IHey.” 

Mitch looked up and stood slowly. 

“Uncle Daniel!” Little Victoria dropped the hula hoop she’d been playing with and ran toward him full tilt. 

“Vicki. Baby girl. C’mere.” He opened his eyes, the sweet little black curls shining in the fading sun. “I missed your pretty face.” 

“You came! Daddy said he had to go, but that you would come, and you did!” She squeezed him tight, little five-year-old arms circling his neck. 

“Of course I came.” He should have come earlier. Sooner. Weeks ago. He blinked hard, fighting his tears. 

Mitch cleared his throat. “I guess you had a long trip. Would you like some coffee? Vicki, baby, why don’t you take Uncle Daniel to the porch? 

“I started at three this morning. Coffee is great. I don’tI’m sorry, man. Y’all had been friends a long time.” 

“Yeah. Um…yeah. Not as long as you. I know thisit was pretty shocking andhard.” 

“Uncle Mitch fixed the porch swing.” Vicki pulled on his hand, tugging him toward the porch. “Emory is napping. He sleeps all the time. Babies do that, but it’s boring.” 

“They do, and it is. Do you still like those genie toys? I have a color book of them in my backpack.” 

“For me?” Vicki smiled at him like he’d hung the moon, as if she hadn’t just lost her father. Five had to be so complicated. 

“Yeah, for you. I’ll grab them in a second.” He’d brought a suit bag and his backpack. 

“Have a seat, I’ll get us some coffee.” Mitch disappeared into the house, leaving him there with Vicki. 

“Did you know my daddy died?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I just found out last night. I came straight away.” 

“He was really sick. He slept a lot, like Emory.” Vicki climbed up on the porch swing. “He missed you though. He told me so. I knew you’d come.” 

“He was my best friend, and you’re my god-girl. Of course, I came.” Jesus, Adam. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was? 

She patted the swing next to him and leaned hard once he sat. “Good.” She sighed and flopped over, lying her head in his lap. 

She was asleep by the time Mitch came back with two mugs of coffee. “She’s been waiting for you. Adam’s” Mitch bit his lips together and shook his head, handing him a mug before sitting in a rocking chair. “The promise was important to her.” 

“I came as soon as I knew. I had no idea it was so bad.” 

“Well, to be fair I don’t think he really believed it would be so fast.” Mitch’s voice was rough and dry. Anyone could see how tired he was. “I should have just called. He wanted to do it himself, but I should have. It’s just that I was here with the kids and helping him deal with his doctors and I… I’m sorry.” 

“I am too. I would have come to help. You have to know that. I would have come.” He wasn’t a shit. He loved Adam and these kids to death. 

“You know Adam. He was private, and he didn’t even like me helping. I think he wanted people to remember him healthy.” Mitch sipped his coffee and tugged his ball cap down lower. “This isso fucked up.” 

“Yes. More than. Did heis your business stuff okay?” He knew Mitch and Adam had run an advertising agency, but that was really all he knew about that. 

Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know. We have good people working for us, so I’m going to hope, but these last few weeks I haven’t… I checked out of work.” 

“I can only imagine.” He sort of wanted to give the guy a hug. More than that, he wanted to leave, find a hotel room and drink. He wouldn’t, because obviously Mitch had been working his ass off dealing with shit and needed a hand, but that didn’t alter his wanting. 

“I’m just going to try to look ahead now. The kids need that. I need to get them a new routine. It’s a couple of weeks late but I can still get Vicki into kindergarten, and I guess I’ll find a nanny for Emory. They need some stability. Then I can get my head back to work.” 

“Wow. Kindergarten? Already? She’s just so little…” Surely she wasn’t that old yet, right? 

“I know, but she turned five in July. I remember Adam saying at one point that he was going to sign her up but hedidn’t.” Mitch glanced at him under the brim of his hat. “So, how’s the…your art going?” 

“It’s good. I got my last show in on time.” He always felt weird talking about his paintings. He always had. It just felt strange. 

“So that’s going on now, without you there?” 

“Yes. My manager deals with the sales and the galleries. I just paint the canvases. I spend most of my time searching for the right environment to inspire.” It was an oversimplification, but it was still true. 

“Sounds nice. Where did you fly in from?” 

“Albuquerque. I was up on Angel Fire. I called as soon as I got signal. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have” He wouldn’t have missed saying goodbye. 

“I was with him when he called you. He said he knew you were busy doing what you loved. It made him smile. He didn’t” Mitch cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his voice was even rougher than before. “He didn’t call anyone else. Just you. I’m sorry, I haven’t really processed any of this, I justthese kids are so important. I’m just a little tired.” 

“It’s okay. You can bewhatever you need to be. I’m serious. You can feel whatever you have to.” He didn’t know how else to do it. 

Mitch glanced up, blue eyes searching his. He wondered what they were looking for. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I do.” 

Daniel stroked Vicki’s hair. “You poor baby. You had to lose both your folks, didn’t you? Well, you got people that love you more than the world. Don’t you worry.” 

Adam had obviously intended for Mitch to take the kids, so he’d send money and stay as long as they needed. He wouldn’t let them hurt for anything. 

“It sucks. It just sucks. But they have me. You. Friends. They have people. I didn’t.” 

The baby started wailing somewhere inside the house. “Emory. He’ll be hungry.” Mitch hauled himself out of his chair. 

“Do you need help?” He wasn’t sure he could move. Hell, he didn’t want to go inside that house. 

“Yes. Stay right there with Victoria.” Mitch touched her cheek, then headed for the front door. “That’s the deepest sleep she’s had in days. I’ll bring Emory out once he’s fed.” 

“Okay.” He swung with her, singing for her, random songs that he knew. He spent a lot of time in life singing along with the radio. This much he could do. 

Title: Bigger Than Us
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09KWNL6P9
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-66-6

Thawed Out

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Merry Everything Series #4
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: November 26, 2024

Thawed Out is an opposites attract, second chance romance featuring an established couple on the edge of divorce, a ferocious snow storm, precocious children and a healthy dose of holiday magic.

Kiren knows there is a storm coming when he goes to the cabin to deliver divorce papers to his husband Flynn, but he doesn’t plan to stay long. He hates that it’s come to this, but they just can’t seem to do anything without arguing anymore. When he finds Flynn looking so skinny and unhappy, he ends up staying to talk.

And maybe to try harder not to break up their family.

Flynn knows Kiren is just as tired as he is. They both work hard. They both take care of their two kids. He doesn’t want to give up, but between his long hours and going to school, he always seems to be in trouble when gets home.

Before they know it, they’re snowed in with nothing but time on their hands. The two of them decide that they don’t want to be frozen in the worst time of their married life. But can they work together to find the balance they need to start again?

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Chapter 1 

 

Kiren sat in his car at the bottom of the winding Cedar Road. He’d been idling for a bit, reading the road sign over and over and working up the nerve to keep going. He glanced at the envelope on the passenger seat again, then sighed and took the right-hand turn toward the cabin where he was meeting his husband. 

His soon to be ex-husband. 

It was hard to believe all their arguing and hurt feelings and drama had been reduced to just a few words on paper. The end of their marriage felt heavy as hell but didn’t look like much. 

He needed this over with. He was worn out. Emotionally, physically, just done. They needed to put this behind them and move on. 

The road was bumpy, tree-lined, and narrow in spots, but in others it was wide and cut through open pastures with amazing views. Usually. Today it was cloudy and really cold, and the visibility was very low. The bumpy road was covered in packed snow. It never got steep enough that he needed chains or anything, but he was glad for his all-wheel drive. 

He finally made it to the cabin and parked in the guest space where his parents parked when they visited. Flynn’s truck, which they usually drove up here as a family, was parked out front. 

He shut the engine off and took a breath, and then another. It wasn’t the papers that had him anxious; it was seeing Flynn. The wild, mixed emotions of the divorce had become so confusing that it actually made his stomach ache. 

Get in, get the signatures, get out. You’ve got this. Easy. 

He took one more breath, dragged the envelope off the passenger’s seat, then climbed out of the car. 

The front door opened, Flynn’s face ashen under his tan. He’d gotten damn near gaunt in the last year, and his flannel shirt and jeans drowned him. “Is everything all right with the kids?” 

He sighed. In Flynn’s defense—for all that Flynn didn’t need defending—cell service was spotty up here even in good weather. “They’re fine. I texted you.” He waved the envelope. “Papers.” 

“Jesus.” Flynn stared at him a second then turned to head back in the house. “I guess it’s fitting.” 

Fitting? What the fuck did that mean? 

He was going to be sorry he did this, wasn’t he? He should have just waited for Flynn to come back from hibernating in the mountains or whatever the fuck he was doing up here alone and let the lawyers handle everything. Hell, he could have just sent a courier up here. 

But no, the one thing Flynn was right about was that he could be a bit of control freak. He knew that much about himself. He needed this done, and the best way to make sure was to do it himself. 

He snorted as he climbed the steps. Maybe that was what Flynn meant by fitting. 

Touché. 

Fuck. 

He opened the screen door just after it slammed shut behind Flynn and went inside. 

Flynn headed straight for the kitchen and the coffee pot, pulling out a second mug before filling them. 

“Do you have a little cream?” Flynn hadn’t gone far. The kitchen was tiny and open to the living space. “I’m not staying long.” 

“I do. No? You’re going to have to wait for me to read everything, so you can drink a cup of coffee.” 

“Mhm.” And they didn’t have to talk while Flynn was reading. He took the mug from Flynn, trading it for the envelope and took a sip. Flynn made a good cup of coffee. “Take your time.” 

He wandered around with his mug, noting the tequila on the kitchen counter and the blanket and pillow on the couch. He stopped to look at the pictures hanging on the wall. A couple of them were family pictures from Flynn’s grandfather, but most of them were of just two of them, or of Jasper and Cassidy when they were tiny. 

Good memories. 

God, he hated this. 

Flynn’s grandfather had willed him this cottage, and Flynn adored it. 

It wasn’t muchone bedroom, a huge front room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a tub filled from the cistern and a composting toilet. The electricity was solar, so it was a little touch and go, and the heat was a pellet stove, but it was remote, the deck was to die for, and it was the quietest place he’d ever been. 

He’d always loved it here, but not today. Today it felt like hell on earth. There wasn’t enough air in the place. 

“I should—you want me to take a little walk?” 

Flynn’s eyebrow went up, lips tightening, and he could almost hear the snarling words that had to be zipping through the man’s head. “Whatever turns you on, babe.” 

Well, fuck, He’d thought Flynn would appreciate the space, but now? Now, he needed it. “Uh-huh.” He zipped his coat back up, picked up his coffee, and stomped out the back door into the cold. 

It was really cold. He pulled his hood up and zipped his coat even higher. It was pretty out here though; the woods were snowy and it was still and quiet. His coffee was going to get cold fast out here, so he took a big sip. 

The wind was beginning to blow, and the sun didn’t want to filter down through the trees, not even a bit. 

He thought about texting Mom or maybe Walt, just to get some sympathy, but he had no signal. Dammit. 

He tried to check the weather too, but no luck there either; the wheel just spun and spun and nothing ever loaded. No matter, he’d be leaving shortly, and if he really needed to know, there was a radio in the cabin somewhere. He’d go back in soon. He wasn’t sure he trusted Flynn not to leave him standing out here just for the amusement factor. 

He’d probably do the same. 

He stepped off the wide deck and walked along the path Flynn had shoveled like always. It went out into the woods a bit to a firepit and some log benches. It also went all the way around the cabin, which was great when the kids needed somewhere to run. 

By the time he got back his fingers were pretty well frozen, so he stomped the snow off his boots and stepped out of them as he came back inside. 

“Mm. Warm in here.” 

“Yeah. It’s chilly today. We have to talk about this. I’m not letting the kids go for half the summer.” 

But he had summers off. This kept them out of daycare for five weeks. “Wait. What? Why not? We definitely talked about this. I’m off in the summer.” 

“I’m not going without them for weeks at a time. I can’t, and I’m not going to give in on it.” 

He understood; he wouldn’t want to either, but it was practical. “Flynn, it just makes sense. It’s not ideal, okay, I know, but I can be home. It will save us money, and we can plan vacations. It’s only half the summer.” 

“Okay, then I want winter and spring break and all the school holidays.” 

Flynn was just being spiteful now. “Spring break, fine. The rest—you’re out of your mind. We’re trading off.” 

“So what? You get the babies for five weeks, and I get one in exchange?” Flynn shook his head. “How the fuck is that reasonable?” 

“Because you do shift work, and you need to find childcare in the summer, and I don’t. If we split the cost of summer care, we’re saving money. Or doesn’t money matter to you anymore?” Was it fair? Maybe not. But it was practical. 

“Oh fuck you! You think I’m busting my fucking ass to get my physician’s assistant’s license for fun? I started this so you could keep your fucking dream job with the students!” That was the most fire he’d seen from Flynn in a year. 

He used to love it when Flynn was passionate about something. But he lowered his tone because he couldn’t take the yelling anymore and went back to the coffee maker without looking at Flynn. “Wow. Pardon me. I thought this license was something you wanted. My dream job happens to be the job I have; I didn’t know I needed to apologize for that.” 

Flynn slapped one hand on the table, making the coffee cup jump and rattle. “Seriously? You’re going to be all… I left the circuit because we wanted kids. I worked nights at the ER because of the money. I started school so that I could keep the salary and work days. I’m fucking tired, man!” 

He jumped, startled enough by the sound that his heart was pounding, then turned and stared at Flynn, not bothering lower his voice this time. “Right. How could I forget that you’re the only one who has sacrificed for our children? You’re always reminding me! Meanwhile, I obviously have plenty of time, plenty of money, and am totally well rested! Lucky fucking me.” 

If he wasn’t driving he’d grab that bottle of tequila. 

“I know we took a hit on the money. It was for two motherfucking years. You couldn’t have my back for two years?” 

“I did have you back for two years, Flynn. Jesus Christ.” He sighed and turned back to the coffee maker. “Fine. We’ll share the summer. Just write in whatever you want, and I’ll have the lawyers fix it. I can’t… I just can’t do this. I can’t argue anymore.” He was exhausted too. Just completely out of spoons. “Whatever you want.” 

“I want my fucking life back!” The coffee cup went flying, smashing on the floor as Flynn stormed out, the entire cabin shaking. 

“Fuck.” Me too. 

He watched the coffee run across the floor and sighed. It would be a shame if it made it over to the little rug Flynn’s grandmother made. He looked found a broom and a towel to clean up, then threw all the pieces in the garbage. 

The divorce papers were still on the table, and he didn’t touch them. 

He lit a lantern, hating how dark it was, but it was the longest night of the year, so… 

The door opened up, Flynn’s arms filled with wood, his lips blue. 

“Jesus. Are you okay? Put that down.” Kiren grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, helped Flynn put the wood in the holder, then sat him in a chair near the stove and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “I’ll get you more coffee. Your fucking lips are blue.” 

It was a testament to how cold Flynn was that he didn’t argue. He simply sat and shivered. 

He brought a hot mug of coffee back and put it in Flynn’s hands, not letting go in case Flynn had trouble holding onto it. “Sip slowly.” 

Flynn took a sip, and dammit, the tears that had frozen on Flynn’s eyelashes thawed, shimmering before they fell. 

He pretended he didn’t notice, but he definitely had, and it made his chest ache. Through all of this bullshit he’d never figured out where they’d lost each other and become something unfixable. They used to finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s thoughts. Now he was lucky when Flynn threw a mug because at least that was something he could understand. 

“Thanks for the drink.” Flynn’s voice was raw, rough as a cob. “Sorry for breaking the cup.” 

Like he cared about a coffee mug. “I’m sorry I sprung this on you. I did text, but I should have known better.” 

“I needed a break. I finished finals and needed somewhere the phone couldn’t find me.” 

“I get it. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll take off as soon as you thaw out.” He stood and peered out the window. He’d thought the darkness was due to the weather, but no, it was plain old night out there now. “Shit. It’s really dark. Well, I’ll be careful.” 

“What?” Flynn frowned and stood up. “No. No, you know those roads aren’t safe in the dark, especially not without a four-wheel drive.” 

He did know that; he and Flynn had learned that the hard way about six months before Jasper was born. It was sweet that Flynn seemed so worried about him doing something stupid. He sighed. “Yeah. Crap.” 

Flynn stared at him for a long minute, then breathed deep. “Are the kids expecting you home? Do I need to get the sat phone?” 

“I guess we should tell Mom I’m stuck for the night, yeah.” That was going to open another can of worms, but she was going to have questions either way. 

“No reason to worry everyone. Jasper worries.” 

Yeah, their six-year-old was absolutely anxiety boy, worrying about everything. 

“I know. Sorry about this. It’s obviously not the downtime you were looking for.” 

Flynn waved his words away. “It’s fine. You need to be safe. Tomorrow you can run down the mountain and all.” 

He nodded. “I can take the couch.” He’d head out in the morning and do what he should have done in the first place—let the lawyers handle this shit. 

“I’ve been sleeping there, if you want the bed. I can’t—I haven’t been sleeping in the bedroom.” 

That was how he felt about the house, especially when the kids weren’t there. “Sure. Okay.” He assumed the stuff he’d left in the closet and the dresser were still here. He probably even had a toothbrush. 

“There’s soup if you want it. Bread.” Flynn stood up, wandering over to where theirthesatellite phone was plugged in. “Call your mom. I’m going to warm this place up.” 

“Thanks.” He took the phone from Flynn, ignoring the tingle where their fingers touched, and made the call. He had enough juice in his phone to read a book for a while so, when he was done, he’d just tuck himself in and leave Flynn alone for the evening. 

He dialed and waited for the call to connect. 

Title: Thawed Out
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0DL3X7WWM

Outfoxed

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: On the Ranch Series #4
Genre: , , , , , , ,
Release Date: April 22, 2025
Pages: 224

Outfoxed is an opposites attract, hurt/comfort, found family romance featuring an injured bull rider at the end of his career and a widower single dad derailed by a mental health crisis.

Bull rider Trent James might be a little broken. He’s a cowboy recovering from a terrible wreck, going through the grind of surgeries and physical therapy and trying not to have a meltdown. Thank goodness for his friends and neighbors Rope and Jude, who keep him up and moving and getting better.

Callum Fox is broken for a totally different reason. When he heads to Texas to visit his friends, he’s looking to get away from too many hours as a CEO and too many memories of his late husband. He wants to spend more time with his daughter, and he needs to figure out what he's going to do with the rest of his life.

The two of them come together and find kindred spirits in each other. But sometimes it’s tough to glue the broken parts back together, and they have to find out where they fit and what they can do to support each other, even when the storm gets bad. Can Fox and Trent make a life together, or will they be unable to mend their shattered pieces?

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Chapter 1 

“Trent, buddy. You gotta get your shit together. You gotta wake up, because you’re worrying folks.” 

Trent tilted his head, or he tried to. Okay, that hurt. Let’s not do that again. All right? 

All right, he told himself. What was the very last thing he remembered? 

He was in… somewhere. Nashville? He thought it was Nashville. 

Maybe New Orleans? Could be New Haven. Somewhere with an N. 

Surely not New Mexico? Hmm. 

No, it was definitely Nashville. The sidewalks singinghe remembered that. 

Okay, good. And then after that? 

He took a deep breath. Oh, yeah, that hurt too. 

So, he must have been riding. Hurting like this meant a wreck. 

He couldn’t smell dirt, so that was probably good. 

Of course, if he couldn’t smell dirt, he didn’t know where he was, and he had to wake up? 

That meant he was either in the hospital or in an ambulance. Both of those were bad. 

Didn’t sound like an ambulance. Didn’t feel like one either. They tended to be tight and loud and jostly, and someone was always bugging you. 

“I’m serious, Trent. You wake your happy ass up. I will kick your butt.” 

Okay, that voicehe knew that was Rope. His best buddy. His traveling partner. His neighbor. If Rope was here, it was serious. 

He licked his lips, wondering if he should ask for a drink or what the hell had happened to him first. 

“Thirsty,” was the word he croaked out. 

Well. That was fair. His body decided what it wanted to do, and fuck his curious brain. 

“Yeah? How about some ice chips? They don’t want you puking.” 

“Surgery?” he asked, because that was the answer to no puking. 

“You know it, buddy. You got yourself all tore up. Shoulder. Collarbone. Your right arm. Got some good bruises too. But they pretty much had to put that whole right side back together. It’s gross. Silas will be over the moon to see.” 

“Ice chips.” 

So, the shoulder blade and the collarbone break explained why it hurt to nod. At least his mouth wasn’t wired shut. That always sucked. 

“Did I win any money?” 

A sliver of ice slid over his lips, and he moaned. Oh, that felt so good. So damn good. 

“No, sir. Not a dime. Gonna make some money off talking about this wreck, if you’re lucky.” 

He should have retired last year. 

“Home.” If Trent was broke, he needed to be home. 

“Day after tomorrow. I rented a van. We’ll just drive it.” 

“Jude?” 

Rope snorted. “We got a baby coming, man. Any day. He’s at home. Just in case.” 

“The boy?” 

“I am not bringing my son out here to drive. He’s not old enough to help with that part. No, he is in school. You gotta focus, man. It’s April. He’s in school.” 

“Right. Sorry.” He wasn’t going to say that he didn’t need Rope to drive him home, or that he was going to manage it by himself or any of that shit because they knew each other well enough to know better. He’d driven Rope more places than he cared to admit, and his buddy had done the same for him. That was what traveling partners were for. 

Not that Rope was riding. Rope was retired. Rope had been retired for something like… two years, right? 

They hadn’t gone backward in time, surely. 

No. Rope said there was a baby coming, and they’d just done that, seemed like. Back last summer? Maybe they started back in the spring, after talking to every damn human being in Texas about having a baby. 

The simple fact was that Rope was still retired. 

“Man. I’m here for the sponsors. I was doing a signing and introducing that new bull.” 

This was why a man had a riding partner. 

Because they knew each other, and they didn’t have to ask stupid questions. 

Rope would just give him stupid answers. That was how it ought to be. 

“Did we go in on yaks together?” 

Rope cracked up, the laughter covering up the constant beeping. “You fucking know we did. You know how much yak butter sells for? You know how funny it is to watch cowboys try to milk a yak?” 

“Want to go home.” 

“I know. When you get the tubes out of your arms and out of your dick, we’re on it. We’ll just drive home, and get you settled.” 

“Swear to God?” 

“I swear by all I hold holy, man, and I got a lot of that.” Rope chuckled and leaned down, kissed his forehead like he was a little boy. “It’s time to hang your bull rope up, man, and come home. We’ll raise yaks and horses and cows and be happy.” 

Rope was right. He hated to admit it, but he might have done ridden his last ride. 

Maybe it was time to become an old cowboy with the ranch.

Title: Outfoxed
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0F2JNV1Y4
ISBN13: 978-1-963644-11-1

The Soldier and the Angel

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Series #4
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: June 23, 2020
Pages: 342

In this stand-alone companion story to The Cowboy and the Dom Series, Sam’s only remaining brother, Army Ranger and EOD Specialist, Jim Bowie O’Reilly, suffers an injury in the line of duty, and is sent home to the family ranch in Texas to recuperate.

But sometimes you can’t go home again.

Thomas and Sam welcome Bowie for a visit in New York, but their D/s lifestyle doesn’t easily lend itself to long-term house guests. Enter Thomas’s trusted friend, EMT and former combat medic Gabriel “Angel” Rogers. The two men met once before when Bowie visited Sam for his birthday, and it doesn’t take the men long to admit they had an instant attraction. They soon discover their desires overlap as well and they set each other on fire.

But two big men need space and, as neither is in love with the city, Bowie invites Angel back to Texas to vacation in one of the run-down beach houses he’s flipped. On the eve of their departure though, Angel’s coworker and friend is gravely injured in an accident leaving his ambulance crew shorthanded, and Angel stays behind to help his team get back on their feet.

The distance might be more than either man can handle. With a whole country between them, they manage to derail something that had been going so well and it takes a risky intervention to stop them from ruining the best thing they’ve ever had.

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CHAPTER ONE

Gabriel never had a bad day.

He had some weird days, days that wiped him out, days he saved a horrible person or couldn’t save a good one, a day here and there that he’d like not to repeat, thankyouverymuch—but never a bad one. Nope. There wasn’t any such thing as a bad day if you made it home from Afghanistan.

Today had been like a nine out of ten though, man. They’d had winners on the bus: babies on the way, kids that were more scared than hurt, a little old lady with a busted hip that said she was a princess, a homeless guy named Augustus that could recite Shakespeare backward and was going to get a bed and three squares for a night or two. He’d take more todays if he had a say.

He fought his way through the crowd at Mike’s, just trying to get to the bar because, goddammit, he was going to toast this day with a beer. The biker bar was always a madhouse on Saturday nights, but as the weather got warmer even more fools came out, and tonight he wasn’t sure there was enough room for him anywhere.

Fortunately, his six-foot-four frame made him easy to spot.

“Angel!” Darla shouted to get his attention.

He waved to the bartender, and she pointed at a bottle of beer crowd-surfing its way over to him. He grinned and blew her a kiss, grateful for friends who always had his back.

She waved back at him, all smiles and boobs. Lord, that woman could work her butt off.

He grabbed the beer, giving the guy who handed it over a high five, before taking a deep swig. Oh, hoppy goodness. Hell, yes. All he needed now were his two favorite people on earth. He pulled out his phone, texting Sammy and Tommy. One of them would answer. Mikes or club?

Mike’s. I’m half into a grenache already. Where are you?

Into a what? He swore sometimes Tommy just said shit to confuse him. Tell me ur not in this swarm

Lounge

Thank fuck. Omw

He finished his beer before he stomped down the stairs and, with thick fingers, punched in the code for Mike’s little private lounge. It was a sweet setup—couches and a few tables, quiet and peaceful, a place where men and women of their persuasion could chill out.

He closed the door behind him, and all the noise stopped. “Ah. Better.”

“That was quick.” Tommy was his usual vision all in leather, sitting in a deep chair, his boy curled against one leg. “I guess angels really can fly.”

“Ha!” He laughed, the sound echoing off the ceiling tile and making him wince. Shit. Inside voice. “You look comfy.”

Little Sammy smiled up at him, the look warm and happy. Someone was in a fine mood—new haircut, old jeans, loose button-down that was two sizes too big. In a fine mood and had been busy too.

His fingers twitched. He wanted a hug. Sammy gave the best hugs. Then—talking about friends that always had your back—Tommy leaned over and whispered to Sammy, and the boy slowly got to his feet.

“Angel.” Sammy launched into his arms, hugging him tight. He grabbed the boy by his hips, because if Sammy was moving that slow, his back was probably well-striped. He wanted to see. Tommy did the best work, and Sammy was built like a tiny brick shithouse.

How about that? An ancient princess, a beer, a hug from Sammy, and everything was right in his stupid little world. Right on. “Hey, Sammy. You feeling good?”

“So good.” Sammy looked up at him, and there was zero question his friend was on cloud nine. “You need anything? Water?”

“Yeah, water would be great. You wanna show off your stripes?”

Tommy jumped in. “Only if you want to, sweetheart.”

“Oh. Yeah. Only if you want to.” Please let Sammy want to. Thank you. Amen.

Sammy blushed but nodded to him. It was still so new for Little Sammy, but he was blooming, working and happy, and making Tommy more relaxed in his own skin than Gabe had ever seen.

Sammy got him a bottle of water along with one for Tommy. Then Sam carefully removed the loose, soft shirt, turning so Gabe could see Tommy’s work.

Oh, yeah. Tommy was so good with a flogger. The boy’s skin was flushed red, and the lines from the flogger’s falls were consistently deep and evenly laid out. It was Tommy’s favorite instrument, and it totally showed. “Looks like someone was a good boy.” He smiled. “Very pretty, Tommy.”

Tommy gave him a nod. “My boy’s inspirational, as you might imagine.”

“Looking good, Sammy.” Really good. He patted a spot on the boy’s arm, well away from any marks.

“Thank you.” Sammy returned to Tommy, leaning hard against Tommy’s leather-clad legs. Tommy rested one hand on Sammy’s nape, the act possessive, the “mine” clear to anyone who looked.

Tommy and Sammy met after Sammy’s brother, James—Tommy’s sub and lover—was murdered by a jealous bartender who worked at Tommy’s BDSM club. They’d come a damn long way since that day. Sammy had seemed little more than a hotheaded cowboy then, and Tommy had always spent his time deep in the tradition and formality of the lifestyle. Apart from their shared grief over James, it seemed like the two had little in common.

Gabe would have bet money it wouldn’t work out, and he was happy to be wrong. Mostly. He’d take Little Sammy off Tommy’s hands in a heartbeat.

Heh. Who was he kidding? He loved them together. And he’d found a real friend in Sammy.

“Sit, craning my neck is uncomfortable.” Tommy laughed and pointed to a chair nearby.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He plopped down and sprawled, nodding to a married couple and their boy held between them while they played a game of cards.

“So how’s things? Work good?” He asked about work because it was polite and all, and work was important to Tommy, but he was always in over his head once Tommy—and Sammy too, for that matter—started talking. He tended to hear art and money and research and donor and blahblahblah and he tried, but after a while he’d kind of tune out.

“…reception for the photography exhibit, and I’m trying to find a list of donors that would be willing to…”

Whoa. Yeah. He’d ask about football next.

Sammy grinned at him, eyes twinkling and wicked, like he knew.

“That’s about it I guess. You?”

“Same old, same old with me. It was good day today, though. Met a guy who could recite Hamlet backward.” He hadn’t read it since…a long-ass time ago, but it sounded like Hamlet.

Tommy laughed. “That’s a talent.”

“He was funny. Sick, though. Bad flu, I think.” He’d had better stories as a field medic, but he liked being an EMT. He was good at it, he met tons of people, and no one was shooting at him.

“I don’t know how you don’t catch every bug in the city.”

“Masks, gloves, don’t touch your eyes.” He grinned. “I did in the beginning actually, but I’m pretty sturdy. Aaron’s still getting sick every other week, but he’s a baby.”

“You’re just old.” Sammy was a turd. Adorable, but a turd.

“Didn’t you bring something to hit him with, Tommy? You know, nipple clamps are great for occasions like this too.”

“Actually, I like it when he says that. It makes me feel younger.”

Gabe snorted. “If the pair of you got any younger, you’d be in diapers.”

“Hey, I’m over thirty.” Tommy pretended to be offended. Or he thought that was pretending.

“Yeah, by the seat of your Pampers.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, he made a little tick mark in the air, and they all started laughing. Sammy most of all.

Tommy sipped the water Sammy brought him and caught his eye. “So, have you heard about Clint’s new bartender yet?”

“He already hired someone?” He was still working up to going back to the club. He would. He probably could now that things were settling down.

“It’s a bar, Angel. How long did you think he’d be able to go without?” Tommy picked up the buzzing cell phone on the arm of the chair and looked at it. “Stephanie is calling me.”

Nothing like a call from your mother-in-law while hanging out at Mike’s.

Sam lifted his head, that frown immediate. “Answer. What if it’s Daddy?”

He caught the look between them, and Tommy answered. “Hello, Steph—yes, he’s right here, is everything all right?…Oh…bad?…Oh…of course, Momma, hold on.” Tommy held the phone out to Sammy, looking very much like he’d gotten bad news. “Sam.”

“Is it Daddy?” Sam reached up and took the phone.

Tommy shook his head no. “Talk to your mother.”

After James was murdered, Sammy’s dad had a stroke. But Gabe thought the man was recovering well. If it wasn’t Sammy’s dad, then it had to be…shit. Sammy’s big brother, Bowie, the Ranger, was deployed overseas. Fuck. He leaned forward in his seat, watching Sammy closely.

“Hey, Momma. What’s…oh. Oh, damn. How bad?…Okay. Germany. Right. Well, let me talk to Thomas, and I’ll call you back. Love you.…Yeah, yeah. I love you. Bye.” Sam hung up and shook his head. “It finally happened. Bowie lost to a bomb.”

Gabe sighed. Lost to a bomb. Bowie was a specialist. That could be some ugly shit. “How bad?”

Tommy slid off the chair to the floor beside Sammy. “What can we do?”

“He was lucky. He knew it was going bad. He was running. He’s got some damage to his left leg. They think they can save it.” Sam grabbed Thomas’s hand. “He’s in a hospital in Germany. How do you feel about going over to see him?”

“I’ll do anything you want, sweetheart. You tell me where and when, and I’ll get the tickets.” The look that passed between them was so intense; Tommy just took it on for Sammy without any thought at all.

It was hard not to be envious of that. Not of them, but of that look. That kind of connection. He cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll get you guys a car, sneak you out the back. It’s a zoo up there.”

“Thank you, Gabe.” Tommy nodded to him. “Can you water the plants? We’ll text you when we know when we’re leaving.”

That request was not in any way, shape, or form meant to rub salt in a wound, but fuck if it didn’t anyway. What was wrong with him?

“Of course, man. Whatever you guys need, you know that. Hang here, I’ll text you when your car is outside.”

Tommy was getting Sammy up, putting that shirt back on the boy. “I’m real sorry, Sammy. You tell him thank you for me.” He gave Sammy’s shoulder a squeeze.

“He’ll be fine. I swear. I know he will.” Sammy sighed. “I guess this means he’ll be going home.”

For a lifer like Bowie, that might be harder to deal with than whatever happened with the leg. “He’s a tough nut. I’ve got faith.” That was about all Gabe was going to say. In his experience, the words “bomb” and “fine” didn’t cross paths that often. He headed upstairs to get some air and call an Uber.

 

Title: The Soldier and the Angel
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B089R7DYSW
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-31-4

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