Recent Release – Public Enemy, Undercover Lover by Amanda Meuwissen #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Public Enemy, Undercover Lover

Author: Amanda Meuwissen

Publisher: JMS Books LLC

Cover Artist: J.M. Snyder

Release Date: May 23, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, BDSM, Interracial, Crime

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, Redemption arc, Found family, Sexy dad

Themes: Second chances

Heat Rating:  5 flames

Length: 60 782 words

It is a standalone book.

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Second chances come in many forms – career changes, criminal reformation, fatherhood, even sex with a former enemy.

Blurb 

Isaac Ford seeks help from the detective who put him in prison — now security consultant, Andrew Wen — after an unexpected prison break weeks before his release. Despite an almost twenty-year age difference and being on opposite ends of the law, the attraction between them culminates in a one-night stand that teeters Isaac between turning himself in and returning to a life of crime. His decision is made for him when he discovers a young man waiting for him at his safe house — the son he never knew existed.

Months later, Isaac has been reconnecting with his son, Dalton, and started a security consultancy of his own, looking for a fresh start. His past catches up to him, however, when he runs into Andrew at the police station, both seeking information on a new thief. Andrew isn’t happy Isaac left that night or that he’s been encroaching on his business, but the passion between them rekindles as trying to one-up each other turns sexual. Neither plan to let anything more come of their tryst until Andrew finds out about Dalton, who he knew in college, and a theft at Dalton’s job forces Isaac and Andrew to work together.

Dalton playing matchmaker complicates things. What’s worse is how easily Isaac and Andrew keep giving in.

 

 

Excerpt 

The warmth that spread through Isaac’s chest surprised him, but he didn’t have much time before Dalton would be back, and Andrew discovering he had a son was just as bad as any enemies.

Then a bitter thought crossed his mind. “Did you track me again?”

“No. I just come here.”

That might be true. This was closer to the persona Isaac remembered from when Andrew was a detective. Sympathetic, earnest, almost sweet. It was just as well that he’d found his way off the force.

He looked like he had half a mind to take the empty seat in front of Isaac but hesitated with a bite at his lip. “I know we’re still at odds professionally, and I’m sure you’ll infuriate me to no end trying to steal more jobs from me in the future, but … I never actually apologized for Christmas.”

“Andrew –”

“I get why you left,” he pushed on. “I wasn’t exactly hospitable, and you still kept your end of the bargain. You’ve been a model citizen ever since. You know, besides shameless shenanigans in uniform and invasion of privacy,” he whispered. “But I won’t talk if you don’t.”

The smile that alighted Isaac’s face in response surprised him too. He tried to think of a comeback, only for Andrew’s eyes to fall to the empty seat again and notice the second drinking glass.

“Are you on a date?”

“No,” Isaac said too hastily. “It’s not a date.”

“If it was one of your associates, you wouldn’t care, but you’re anxious. Stealing more clients from me already? Or maybe you are planning a job, and you just use security as a front.”

He was teasing again, Isaac could tell, but that’s what all the naysayers said: that Isaac was faking it. Once word of the new thief finally spread, they’d all say it was him. A few skirts of the law were one thing, but he couldn’t risk going back to jail, not when he had Dalton.

Dalton — who was out of the bathroom and headed for their table!

“Listen, now isn’t the best –”

“Andrew?”

Andrew spun around when Dalton called his name.

When Dalton called his name.

“Dalton? Oh my God, how are you?”

They hugged, completely unabashed in their open display of affection.

“Why are you never on Facebook?” Dalton squeezed Andrew tightly. “I can hardly keep up. Did I hear you quit the force?”

“Almost a year ago now. I started a security firm.”

“That’s awesome! And kind of funny. My dad does security too. Dad? What’s with the face?”

Dalton’s eyes landed on Isaac, and when Andrew turned to see that no, there was no other man in line of sight to be the bearer of that endearment, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Dad?”

“Do you and Andrew know each other?”

“How do you know each other?” Isaac threw back, because if they’d slept together, he would have an aneurism right there in the café.

“Andrew tutored me in Art History in college. How do you know him?”

The actual answers flitted through Isaac’s mind.

He was my nemesis.

He’s the detective who put me in jail.

We fucked on his living room sofa half an hour before I met you, and I helped him through two orgasms yesterday.

“We … dated,” Isaac sputtered — and what the hell was he thinking?! “Briefly.”

‘WHAT?’ Andrew mouthed in disbelief, but he must not have been able to think of a better answer either, because he screwed his face into embarrassed shock for Dalton’s sake and said, “Yeah! Very briefly. Boy, that must sound super weird since he’s your dad.”

“Not … weird,” Dalton said, glancing stoically between them. He had Isaac’s knack for hiding his emotions unless he wanted others to know them. “I mean, we’re all adults. You’re a good guy, Andrew, and Dad’s –”

“A criminal,” Andrew blurted, unable to keep his floundering word-vomit under control any better than Isaac had. “That’s why we broke up! Detective, thief … you know …”

“Conflict of interest,” Isaac saved him.

“Exactly!”

“Sure.” Dalton nodded as if that made perfect sense, which it did, but that didn’t alleviate any of the awkwardness.

 

About the Author 

Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual and happily married 35-year-old geek. Primarily an M/M romance author with a focus on urban fantasy, she has a Bachelor of Arts in a personally designed Creative Writing major from St. Olaf College and is an avid consumer of fiction through film, prose, and video games. Amanda lives in Minneapolis, MN, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.

 

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New Release – Tread: Kink Files 2 by A. G. Carothers #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Tread: Kink Files 2

Author: A. G. Carothers

Publisher: A. G. Carothers

Cover Artist: Amai Designs

Release Date: April 20, 2020

Genre/s: BDSM Contemporary MM Romance

Trope/s: Daddy Kink, Age Gap, Boot Worship 

Themes: New to BDSM, Overcoming Fears, Taking Chances

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 26 000 words

It is book 2 in the series, but can be read as a standalone.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Darius could tread on my body, but he’d never trample my heart.  

Blurb

Abel Kensington the Fifth, aka TheFifthAbel – Accountant, Germaphobe, Service Submissive turned Daddy Dom, and resigned to being alone.

Mired in his routines that keep the worst of his fears and obsessive behaviors at bay, Abel has given up finding someone who will look past his sanitized bubble. Little does he know that someone is watching him and has a plan to slip into his world and take care of him for a change.

Darius MacLeod aka JuicyDare – Coffee House Owner, Scottish Transplant, New Daddy Dom, and finding love is the last thing on his mind.

While his roots are still firmly in his homeland, Darius has started a new life in his father’s hometown. When a seemingly shy and prim older man starts frequenting his café, Darius’ interest is piqued and his instincts kick in. Wanting to get past the barrier that Abel has erected, Darius dives feet first into a whole new world he knows little about.

Abel and Darius will both need to find sure footing on this new path before them as Abel gets back to his submissive roots and Darius explores a new but natural lifestyle.

Attention: This book contains depictions of dominance, submission, boot worship, trampling, and adults in footie pajamas

 

INSTAGRAM 2

 

Excerpt 

From Darius POV:

About a month after Abel started coming to the café, he said something to my day manager, Santos, which had intrigued me and really spurred my desire to know him better. 

He had come in, as usual. I’d watched his lithe body as he set up his area and then move to the counter. He tugged on the sleeves of his shirt to straighten them—like always. That day he had worn a hunter-green button down. It was always a solid color with all the buttons done, even the top one, but no tie. He always kept his black hair short on the sides with a little bit of length on the top. I suspected that if he let it grow, it would curl a little. It looked thick and soft. I often wondered what it would feel like between my fingers. 

I had watched from just inside the kitchen as his hazel eyes roamed the menu board on the wall behind the counter. He had scrunched his freckle-splattered nose in the most adorable way as he thought. 

Santos placed a plate with his usual carrot and zucchini muffin in front of him on the counter and started inputting his order into the computer. Abel had registered the movement and focused on him. 

“One muffin, a latte, and a Grasslands Juice. That’ll be fourteen thirty-six, as usual, Mr. K.”

Abel had looked down his nose at Santos and arched a thick but sculpted eyebrow. “It’s admirable that you remember what I have ordered the last five times I have visited this establishment, but it is rude to assume.” 

Santos had opened his mouth and closed it, which was good because Abel wasn’t done.

“I appreciate your wanting to be efficient, but what if today I want a banana nut muffin instead?”

“Do you want a banana nut muffin instead, Mr. K?”

“Abel, please. And, no, I do not, but that’s beside the point. It is not good service to anticipate what I may want. It is, on the other hand, good service to know how I like it or want it done when I tell you what I want or need. For instance, Darius always remembers how I like my sandwich made. He’s very thoughtful.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. K—I mean, Abel, sir. I’ll remember that. What may I get you this morning?”

Abel had tugged on his sleeves again. I had a feeling that was more of a compulsion than anything else. A nervous habit maybe?

“I’ll have a carrot and zucchini muffin, a latte, and a Grasslands Juice.”

I had to stifle my laughter as I went about making his juice.

 

 

About the Author 

A. G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you. A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.

 

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Review Tour – Served with a Twist by Jet Lupin #KindleUnlimited

REVIEW TOUR

Book Title: Served with a Twist

Author: Jet Lupin

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: December 28, 2019

Genre/s: Sci-Fi D/s M/M Romance

Trope/s: Clash of Backgrounds, Opposites attract, Man in Peril, Meet My Dysfunctional Family, Size Difference

Themes: Kink, light BDSM, light D/s themes, collaring

Heat Rating: 4 flames 

Length:  74 000 words

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Amazon Link 

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The pretty ones were always trouble…

Blurb

Cut Jones knows Samson from his work, but not really. He knows he’s got money, that he likes his whiskey sours extra sweet, but that’s where his knowledge ends. Samson’s come into the bar every few days for a year but has hardly said more than five words at a time, but Cut didn’t mind. Samson was out of his league. So imagine his surprise when Samson asks for his help with a very personal issue.

The pressures of owning his own company and the expectations of his father had Samson Ba walking a razor’s edge. It was only a matter of time before he tried to find a release, but when he does it’s in the worst way. And he’s found by the last person he wanted to see him this way. But things aren’t all bad. Cut offers to help him relieve his stress, and Samson’s sure he’s just being nice, but some opportunities are too good to pass up. 

 

 

About the Author 

Stories longing to have words put to them were in Jet’s heart from an early age. Jet enjoys exploring the connections and similarities between people whether they be shifters, vampires, or aliens, rendering the unknowable very knowable indeed.

Jet’s days are spent toiling away at a keyboard, slumped over a pen and paper hunting for those words, or playing around on twitter with a partner, and two rambunctious cats for company in the temperamental North Eastern US.

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook Page  |  Facebook Reader Group  |  Twitter

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New Release – Served with a Twist by Jet Lupin

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Book Title: Served with a Twist

Author: Jet Lupin

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: December 28, 2019

Genre/s: Sci-Fi D/s M/M Romance

Trope/s: Clash of Backgrounds, Opposites attract, Man in Peril, Meet My Dysfunctional Family, Size Difference

Themes: Kink, light BDSM, light D/s themes, collaring

Heat Rating: 4 flames 

Length:  74 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Add on Goodreads

 

 

Buy Links

Universal Amazon Link 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

The pretty ones were always trouble…

Blurb

Cut Jones knows Samson from his work, but not really. He knows he’s got money, that he likes his whiskey sours extra sweet, but that’s where his knowledge ends. Samson’s come into the bar every few days for a year but has hardly said more than five words at a time, but Cut didn’t mind. Samson was out of his league. So imagine his surprise when Samson asks for his help with a very personal issue.

The pressures of owning his own company and the expectations of his father had Samson Ba walking a razor’s edge. It was only a matter of time before he tried to find a release, but when he does it’s in the worst way. And he’s found by the last person he wanted to see him this way. But things aren’t all bad. Cut offers to help him relieve his stress, and Samson’s sure he’s just being nice, but some opportunities are too good to pass up. 

 

 

Excerpt 

Samson shifted his gaze to Cut, scanning him from boots to the dark blue locs on the crown of his head. Cut shifted, smoothing out invisible creases in his jeans before Samson said, “You look good to me.”  

He seemed so sure; Cut felt he had to trust him on this. At least, if he was wrong, they’d get thrown out together. Nothing took the sting out of embarrassment quite like sharing it.

Samson stood aside and Cut preceded him into the restaurant, but then he scampered on ahead to talk to the host, making the whole exercise useless. They whispered among themselves, giving Cut ample time to verify that his ass was just as amazing in jeans as dress pants, before the host escorted them to a secluded corner meant for a party of six or more. The other patrons had enough class to pretend that their meals and conversations were more engrossing than the out of place strangers getting a whole section to themselves.

His anxiety subsiding as they took their seats allowed Cut to take things in properly. He saw the wire brush marks on the metal of the sconces that illuminated the room. When he flicked his gaze up, he saw the hand turned wires on the ornaments hanging from the chandeliers. On the glasses, the stems were so delicate and thin, yet when he picked up his to test that theory, it didn’t feel fragile in the hand. Everything was so refined and well-made in a way that made him feel small and cheap. But he’d push through it for now. 

Cut claimed the bench against the wall, preferring to see anything coming his way, while Samson took the chair across from him, his back to the rest of the dining room. He shrugged out of his jacket and set it beside him. Cut took Samson’s when he divested himself of it and did the same. Samson picked up the thin tablet that served as the menu and swiped through it. Cut gave an appreciative glance to those wide shoulders and the bit of collarbone peeking out from the open neck of Samson’s shirt before turning his gaze down to his own menu.

“I recommend anything but the fish. Issues with the suppliers. The beef is very good, though.”

“You really know your stuff.” Of course someone like Samson came here regularly. A high class spot for a high class guy. Cut carefully sipped water from an elegant crystal glass.  

Samson put down the tablet, grinned. “I should. I own the place.” 

Water dribble down Cut’s chin when he nearly choked on it. He quickly mopped it up with his sleeve. It was better his stubble got a little wet than spraying Samson’s face. 

“You own this whole place? By yourself?”

“I hope you don’t mind me showing off a little. Everything you get will be gratis, of course. So go nuts. I needed you to know that I really can pay whatever you ask. I’m serious about this.” 

Cut moved to the edge of his seat. Just because no one was blatantly watching didn’t mean they weren’t listening. “Explain what you mean by this? I have an idea, but we’ve got to be on the same page.” 

“O-of course.” Samson wet his own lips with a little water. 

He seemed a little flustered. That was the last thing Cut wanted.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

 “It’s a bit much to say over the table.” But it had to be said. If they didn’t have honest, open communication from the beginning, there was no point in starting at all. 

But if Samson had concerns about being overheard, Cut had a simple solution. He scooted over on the bench. “Join me. There’s plenty of room on this side.”

Samson froze and swallowed so hard Cut swore he heard it. He thought that might have been a step too far, but Samson came around to his side of the table, and they sat hip-to-hip. The cushion was wide enough to accommodate both of them with room to spare. A server rushed over and repositioned Samson’s place setting before disappearing as quickly as they came. 

There was that scent again, sweet and thickened by Samson’s natural aroma. Cut was suddenly aroused and uncomfortable. He shifted to adjust his cock into a more comfortable position, and his thigh brushed against Samson’s. The bigger man snapped his leg away for an instant before he relaxed again. Somehow, knowing he was nervous too helped Cut relax. Maybe too much. 

He rested a hand on Samson’s knee and squeezed. When he realized what he’d done, Cut pulled away and set both his hands on the table.

“So,” he coughed. “Let’s start with the alley and why you were there.”

 

convo-blank

About the Author 

Stories longing to have words put to them were in Jet’s heart from an early age. Jet enjoys exploring the connections and similarities between people whether they be shifters, vampires, or aliens, rendering the unknowable very knowable indeed.

Jet’s days are spent toiling away at a keyboard, slumped over a pen and paper hunting for those words, or playing around on twitter with a partner, and two rambunctious cats for company in the temperamental North Eastern US.

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook Page  |  Facebook Reader Group  |  Twitter

  Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  Pinterest 

 

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here

 

New Release – Damaged by Tricia Owens #KindleUnlimited

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Book Title:  Damaged

Author: Tricia Owens

Publisher:  Self-Published

Cover Artist: Tricia Owens

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M romance, BDSM

Heat Rating: 5 flames (Graphic scenes of rough sex, BDSM)

Length: 44 000 words

This is a standalone story

Release Date: February 12, 2019

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Blurb

After Detective Jack Beckam’s partner is killed during the line of duty, Jack retreats to a small Indian casino in the Colorado mountains to deal with his guilt. There, he encounters the mysteriously hostile casino manager, Taylor Brant.

Jack is on a downward spiral. Unfortunately for him, the strange forest surrounding the casino only increases his desire to do something reckless. Something desperate. Taylor Brant is not only dangerous, he’s damaged. He’s someone Jack should steer clear of. Yet Jack, hurting and needing to pay penance, tumbles into a series of dark, highly charged encounters with Brant which threaten to shatter them both.

 

Excerpt

Amusement briefly lit Brant’s gray gaze. “You’re an interesting man, Jack. Under other circumstances I’d enjoy feeling you out.”

“I thought you hate cops. Sounds to me like you’re flirting with one.”

He was immediately embarrassed for having said it. Taylor Brant was one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen, much less had dinner with—but Jack recognized the nugget of fear rolling around in his own gut. He was in foreign territory, literally and figuratively. All his experience as a detective, all his street smarts, meant next to nothing when it came to his occasional and unwanted attraction to specific men. It was like a flare-up of a rash—unpredictable, unwelcome, and woefully incurable.

“I’d be reckless, wouldn’t I,” Brant said, “to flirt with a detective?” Brant’s gaze grew intent. “I’m not reckless.”

“Sounds to me like you’re a masochist.”

“Would it take one to know one?”

The restaurant was emptying out. Jack wished it were busier. Louder. He wished that the waiter was intrusive. He could feel himself sweating and felt ridiculous; he was only sitting there eating dinner.

Brant didn’t appear to be all that relaxed, either. The casino manager was tense. Nervous. Jack was too experienced in studying people to miss the signs. Was Brant regretting his boldness? Maybe they were both stumbling around in the dark in their own ways. It was strange to look at Taylor Brant and consider him anything other than one hundred percent sure of himself.

Or was it? He was well groomed and sophisticated, yet the broken nose hinted at his past experience with abuse. The book, too, suggested deep waters and a hint of vulnerability.

But Jack wasn’t completely sold on Brant being a man you could easily take advantage of. Maybe back then, back when Brant had dated those cops, he had been a man like that. But not any longer. The man sitting across from Jack had been honed by pain, anger, and disappointment. Brant had gone through hell and come out the other side as a more powerful man. It was there in those steely eyes, a hint of the danger he presented: he needed to control every situation he entered because he would never allow himself to be at anyone’s mercy again. He was using his fear to become something—someone—unbreakable.

Jack’s cock pulsed at the prospect of being under Brant’s control, even for an hour. It wasn’t something he’d ever experienced, and the fantasy of it was probably better than the reality. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d react to someone attempting to take the upper hand with him. There was a good chance he’d throw a punch.

About the Author

Tricia Owens has been writing m/m fiction since 2000, after stumbling onto the term ‘slash’ and thinking it referred to horror stories. She is the author of the Sin City, A Pirate’s Life for Me, and Juxtapose City series, among several others. She lives in Las Vegas.

 

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Book Blast – The Signal Box by Lazlo Thorn

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Signal Box

Author: Lazlo Thorn

Publisher: MLR Press

Cover Artist: Lex Valentine

Genre/s: Gay Romance / Erotica with some BDSM themes

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  34,000 words / 75  pages

Release Date: April 5, 2018

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

“When you tie me like that, when I’m sure I can’t get free,

well it’s like everything becomes still.

I’m still. Everything is calm.”

Blurb

Autumn, 1913. Wiltshire, England. Davy Buckland, a boiler cleaner in the engine shed at the local railway station, was nineteen when he took a shine to the signalman at nearby Oakwood Junction. He didn’t know much about Nathaniel, but he recognised a man who could show him the ropes and how the isolated signal box in the Edwardian countryside where he worked, could provide the perfect hideaway for their clandestine games. By the time the Great War had started and these two ordinary men had become lovers, it wasn’t only the trains that were greased up and running on a good head of steam. But just how long could they keep this affair a secret? And what would the consequences be, if their unusual sexual liaison was ever discovered?

Buy Links

MLR Books

Amazon US 

Amazon UK 

B&N 

Excerpt

He bounded up the steps enthusiastically and entered the signal box still dressed in the dirty overalls he’d worn while working on the engine that morning. By contrast Nathaniel Bixby, the signalman, looked clean and very smart in his dark black railway uniform, white shirt and company cap with the copper SWR badge. He was a tall, clean shaven man with hair the colour of a rusty firebox, handsome in an ordinary way. His uniform suggested broad shoulders and enhanced his capable bearing. His military background made him used to wearing a uniform well and his only concession to civilian life was a loosened tie. As Davy entered, he stood proudly by the rack of eight tall metal levers, some red, some yellow and some black, each the height of his chest, that dominated the area in front of the big window. He had a dirty rag draped over his shoulder. He looked at Davy then checked the time using the big pocket watch he kept in his waistcoat.

“You’re early,” he said.

“Sorry, Mr Bixby. I thought I’d come straight here,” Davy replied.

“So I can see,” Nathaniel said, studying the dirt all over Davy’s face and overalls. “Throw a log on the fire. The pot’s hot. Make yourself a cup of tea. Let me get the thirteen-twenty out of the way and then we’ll get started.”

Nathaniel dutifully returned to his job and using the old rag to improve his grip began pulling some of the levers to switch the points and set the signals, taking particular care to set the stop signal on the branch line to ensure a clear passage for the impending express that would shortly reach the junction.

Davy opened the small, black stove in the corner of the signal box, poked the embers and put another log in it from the nearby basket. Then he brewed a cup of tea in a stained tin mug. He observed as the older man deftly made light work of the heavy-duty engineering in his office. A couple of bells rang a rhythmic beat in code with a message from a neighbouring signal box along the line. Nathaniel responded in kind. With the rack set, he waited, leaning casually on one of the levers while looking up the line for signs of the express. Then right on cue and with a piercing whistle the train he had been preparing for came thundering round the bend, past the box and into the cutting. The windows rattled and the surrounding trees vanished in volcanic clouds of steam as the fire-breathing monster made off into the distance and once again the little clearing in the woods was quiet. Nathaniel returned the levers to their original settings and, as was his custom, hung the old rag over the one on the end. He turned to Davy.

“It’ll be quiet now for a bit,” he said with a grin.

Nathaniel took off his waistcoat and company cap, put them on a nearby chair next to the desk in the corner of the room and locked the door. Next, he rolled up his sleeves revealing the strong, hairy forearms that gave him the strength to make such light work of the heavy, clunky levers in the box.

Davy gulped down the rest of his tea while Nathaniel retrieved an old canvas rucksack from under the desk. He unfastened the bag and took out a short length of rope. Davy lay face down on the hard, wooden floor and—in a by now well-rehearsed routine—placed his hands behind his back where Nathaniel bound them. First his wrists and then his ankles. Then more rope, longer this time, firmly around his upper body and shoulders and finally that cruel ligature that drew his ankles right up to his wrists rendering Davy immobile and blissfully helpless. Davy watched as Nathaniel stood up and studied his handiwork for a moment. Then he replaced his waistcoat and cap before he silently returned to his post at the lever rack.

Lying motionless on the floor, Davy could feel the rough floorboard against his cheek. He glanced over to where Nathaniel was standing with his back to him, watching out of the window and vigilantly minding his station. From this angle, Davy could see the scratches in the heels of his well-worn black leather boots and the backs of his tall, strong legs. After a moment, Davy tested the ropes, but as usual Nathaniel had been very thorough, careful to put the knots out of the reach of his nimble fingers and to place the coils around his body where the contours of his own muscles blocked any prospect of easy slippage. He rolled. Now, he was facing the back of the box. Once again, he tried flexing his arms and legs, pushing against the ropes but if anything, the struggling only seemed to make everything feel even tighter, even more of a tangle. So, he wrestled with the restraints some more, relishing the sensation. He knew from experience that being tied up like this it would take him hours to get free. He was a prisoner, just the way he liked it.

About the Author 

Lazlo Thorn published his first novel (The Signal Box) in 2018. In his work he explores themes about life, death, love and sexuality, set against the social mores and prevailing attitudes to gay sex at different times and in different places.

His forthcoming novel (Pain and Promise), due for release shortly, takes the reader to a small town on the Adriatic coast of Italy where two love stories, separated by almost forty years, become linked in an unexpected way.

He has nursed an ambition to be a writer for a number of years, but has only recently been able to make sufficient space in his life to begin committing some of his ideas to paper. The author has lived and worked in various countries and travelled widely in Europe and beyond.

Today, he lives in England with his husband, in a quiet seaside town on the south coast.

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