Love in the spotlight is not made to survive. Will we?
Blurb
Reed: Tate Aduma is a Hollywood actor that everyone wants and no one really knows. Our first meeting as young dreamers sparks a decade of incredible highs and lows.
I’ve loved him, I’ve hated him, and I can’t live without him.
But I know that love in the spotlight is not made to survive.
Will we?
Tate: Reed Larkin is the only constant in my chaotic life of movie sets, parties, and nameless lovers. But while being on stage is second nature, being myself in real life is a role I struggle to play.
Then I’m offered the biggest part of my career, working alongside Reed as my co-star, and my love interest.
This time, however, neither one of us is acting.
Co-Star is a best friends to enemies to lovers, MM romance filled with combustible chemistry, indelible love, and a HEA a decade in the making.
About the Author
Ava Olsen writes steamy and dreamy contemporary romances filled with heartwarming characters, cheeky banter and swoony moments.
For years, I’ve lived by one rule: Don’t Mess With The Ex.
Blurb
For years, I’ve lived by one simple rule: Don’t Mess With The Ex.
It was an easy rule to follow when Laurence Kensington III was on the other side of the country.
Now that he’s shown up out of the blue to tell me we’re still married? Not so much.
I followed my heart into a whirlwind romance with him once, and it ended in a heart-breaking annulment. Or at least, I thought it did. I don’t know what to think of the news we’re still hitched.
I’ve vowed to never be so impulsive or reckless again. But when he brings me a proposal that will help me achieve my dreams for Granville *and* refuse his entitled family something they want, I’m once more put to the test.
Laurie is as handsome as I remember, and so damn tempting. His sweet gestures, generous spirit, and open heart make it a challenge to stick to my rule.
But then, maybe messing with the ex wouldn’t be all bad. Maybe it’s time to write new rules.
Is it really so wrong to follow my heart if my heart was right all along?
Don’t Mess With The Ex is Book 2 of Rules We Break, set in the small, quirky town of Granville, where nosy residents meddle in one another’s lives, great friendships are made, and silly innuendos are a way of life.
Excerpt
When Laurie and I got married the first time, it had been a speedy elopement at a courthouse. I hadn’t cared, beyond a flicker of guilt that my mother would be disappointed. I’d never been one to want a lot of fanfare. But seeing everyone come together for us—everyone believing in us—made my stomach flip with a mix of nerves and excitement.
Laurie and I are just beginning to get to know each other again, I reminded myself. All of this is a performance.
But it didn’t feel that way, especially when my mother stood and raised a plastic glass filled with champagne. “To Tucker and Laurie! I’m so glad you boys have found your way back to each other. I don’t have to tell you to treasure each day together after nearly twenty years apart.”
LeRoy called from the crowd, “Imagine the fun of making up for all that lost time though!”
Everyone laughed, and I turned toward Laurie, a joke poised on my lips. The words evaporated and my heart nearly stopped at the sight of him.
The man’s smile was fucking magic, his eyes glowing with promise. This wedding reception might be for show, but I hoped we’d be enjoying a hell of a wedding night anyway, because I was done fighting this pull between us.
My mother scolded us playfully. “I know I don’t have to tell you two to never get married in secret again,” she said, wagging a playful finger at us. “You’re just lucky Laurie is such a delight, or I’d really be in a tizzy.”
“She was in a total tizzy,” my dad called out. “Don’t let her fool you! I heard about it for a solid week!”
My mother waved him off, wrapping up the speech with something a little more heartfelt. “I’m so happy to be able to celebrate this night with you, Tucker. And you too, Laurie. I’m so happy to witness this new chapter for the both of you and to see you looking so happy.” She lifted her cup again. “Let’s all drink to the next twenty years that Tucker and Laurie will spend side by side as true partners. I know you two are taking it a day at a time, and that’s good. It’s how all the best marriages work. I have no doubt, seeing you together like this, that you’ve got a very happy life ahead.”
We all dutifully sipped our champagne. The ringing of a bell sounded, followed by the chant of “Kiss kiss kiss.”
Well, hell, I wanted to kiss him anyway. I wanted to kiss him every minute of every day. I always had, since the very first moment I saw him on Hunter’s lawn, but now I could finally give in to the craving.
I leaned in, brushing his lips with mine—and even with the whole room watching—sparks shot through me and I had to fight the desire to deepen the kiss. Laurie caressed my jaw, his touch so loving and sensual I wanted to drag him beneath the table right here.
“Awww,” my sister crooned, rudely interrupting our moment. “Aren’t you two just sickening?”
I pulled away with a little laugh and shot her a mock glare. “Jealous?”
She glanced at Laurie. “Well, to be honest, a little. Laurie is one fine man.”
“Hey!” Her husband, Rusty, wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. “Maybe we’ve been together all fifteen years of our marriage, but don’t even think about trading me in for a flashier model.”
She turned a killer grin on him. “Just making sure you appreciate me.”
“I could help with that.” Wes Potter strolled up, a flirtatious smile on his handsome face. He usually wore grass-stained jeans and faded T-shirts, but he’d cleaned up fucking nice in a suit that molded to his muscled arms and chest. “Care to dance, Julie?”
His stepbrother, Beckett, was a step behind him, a scowl on his cute, freckled face. “Don’t the grooms get the first dance?”
Wes turned with a shit-eating grin. “My bad. Laurie, care to dance?”
Laurie tilted his head, gaze panning up and down Wes’s fine form, while Beckett looked skyward and shook his head, as if he was not the least bit surprised by Wes’s shit-stirring.
“Don’t even think about it,” I practically growled as I pushed my chair back and grabbed Laurie’s hand. “He’s dancing with me.”
Laurie chuckled good-naturedly, allowing me to drag him around the table. “I’ll have to send Wes a thank-you card.”
“For inviting you to dance?” I asked in disbelief.
“No,” he said, smiling up at me as we took our position on the dance floor. “For making you jealous enough to go all caveman on me.”
“Shit, sorry,” I said, glancing around self-consciously. “I might have let all this go to my head.”
Laurie took hold of my jaw, guiding my gaze back to him. “All of this?”
“The celebrating, the toasts, the congratulations. It feels…”
“Real?”
I nodded.
Laurie leaned in to brush a kiss to my cheek. “For me, it is.”
“Laurie…”
He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing close, and spoke in my ear. “No, listen. I know we’re starting over and you’re not ready to make any promises. But we didn’t get this the first time, and…maybe we deserve to enjoy it. Just a little? What do you think?”
I gazed into his eyes, full of love for me. Full of understanding too. I was still a little afraid, taking this step, but Laurie knew where I stood. He accepted me and my reservations gracefully, just as he’d accepted my rejection, as flimsy as it was.
Every step of the way, Laurie took me as I was, I realized, and was grateful for whatever I offered.
And it was time I offered honesty. He deserved that much.
“Let’s enjoy it,” I agreed, dipping my head to kiss him. “I want to enjoy every moment we have together from now on.”
“Good, then go fucking caveman over me anytime you feel the urge,” he said, eyes hot. “Don’t hold back anymore. Please.”
The note of desperation in that plea nearly did me in. The reception was far from over, and all I wanted was to get this man alone and finally relearn the lean, gorgeous body that I’d once known so well.
About the Author
DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
Asa might be the head coach, but he’s a man first.
Blurb
Coach Asa Dawson has fallen wildly in love only twice in his life.
First with football.
Then with Scott Callaway.
But Scott isn’t just the one who got away.
He’s the one person—the one man—Asa hoped might finally show him how all-consuming passion could be.
Instead, fate (and football) intervened and they never got the chance to explore their attraction. Their friendship ended in ruins, Scott left, and Asa’s been torn between hating him and loving him for the last seven years.
Asa doesn’t think he’ll ever see him again, but when his bad habits catch up to him and he doesn’t have a choice but to accept help, he’s horrified—and exhilarated—to learn Scott’s been hired to assist him.
With the final stretch of the Piranhas season falling during the holidays, maybe what Asa and Scott have needed this whole time was a little Christmas magic to remind them the most important job isn’t to win the season—but to finally win each other’s hearts.
Excerpt
Scott’s hands were still trembling.
It was like being plugged back into a socket, after so long without electricity, being in Asa’s presence again.
Since he’d gotten the call from Beau, he hadn’t really let himself consider what it would mean. What it would feel like.
He’d only allowed himself the worry.
Asa was sick; he was struggling and in the goddamn hospital. Beau had reassured him, more than once, that he’d be fine, that the doctors weren’t particularly worried, they only wanted him to change his lifestyle.
Sleep more. Eat better. Work less.
That, Beau had said, was where he came in. He didn’t know anyone else who’d be able to convince Asa to relax the reins.
Scott had agreed, because after how things had gone seven years ago, how could he not? How could he not be there for Asa when he needed him, more than anyone else?
But he didn’t tell Beau that he wouldn’t be able to convince him of jack shit now.
Asa was, understandably, still pissed.
Scott couldn’t even blame him.
He was still pissed at himself.
He’d known the moment he landed in Washington that it was all wrong, that he’d made a mistake, that instead of trying to be so fucking noble, he should have just taken Asa’s hand and kissed him and learned how to be happy.
No matter what that meant.
But he’d committed to leading Washington’s program, and he’d done that, for six years.
Then a year ago, they’d let him go, and he’d gone home, not to Tennessee, because Asa was still there, and the whole damn state didn’t feel big enough for the two of them, but back home to Alabama, to the small town he’d lived in before he’d gone to college.
“You alright?” Beau asked as they lingered at the front of the conference room, the rest of the coaching staff taking their seats, grumbling all the way.
It was deep into the season, it was the Monday after a game, and they were all tired.
Scott remembered exactly how it had felt, on those Mondays, even though he’d only ever coached in college, never in the NFL.
“Yeah, fine,” Scott said automatically.
He was not fine.
Not even remotely.
He’d thought . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d thought, exactly. But he hadn’t imagined that he and Asa would meet again like this. He’d imagined running into him—sorta, kinda, on purpose—on the Tennessee campus. He’d imagined making things right.
The part of the imagining he’d purposefully forgotten was that Asa was going to be justifiably pissed at him.
About the Author
A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.
Can Sami and Joakim’s relationship survive accusations of cheating, a thrown wineglass, and eight months of silence?
Blurb
Hurtful words and a thrown wineglass in a fit of jealousy tear Sami and Joakim apart; fiery tempers and stubbornness keep them from making up. But then, after eight months without a single word, just as Sami is about to make the first move, Joakim shows up, eager to make things right.
Can they overcome accusations of cheating and eight months of silence? Are conversations, confessions, and planning for the future enough? Will the love they still share conquer all?
Excerpt
I must have stood by the front door like an indecisive fool for longer than I realize because Joakim steps out of the kitchen—eyebrows drawn together, asking did you sneak out?—and approaches carefully, as though he’s unsure of whether I’ll flee like a spooked antelope or attack like a hungry tiger.
When he’s within reach, he hooks his index finger in the belt loop of my jeans and tugs once. Gently. “Come, please. I’ve made tea.”
I don’t even like tea, and I don’t know why I drink it, but I let him lead me by the tiny scrap of fabric to the kitchen. I don’t object when he nudges me into my spot and hands me a steaming mug. I wrap my fingers around it and take a careful sip—he always makes the tea too hot—and the earthy flavor of the chamomile finally loosens my tongue. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk, don’t you think?”
I take another sip and allow myself to look at him. He doesn’t quite meet my eyes and the lines above his nose have deepened. He’s surprisingly pale, which is unexpected for him in August after a warm, sunny season. He’s an outdoorsy guy, his smooth skin always turns golden in the summer, but looking at him now, I’d think it was February, after many long months of cold and darkness.
He presses his lips together as though he’s trying to stop himself from speaking, as though he’s waiting for me to say something.
And he’s right. I should say something, but I’m still reeling from him showing up on my doorstep when I was about to call him.
Has he, too, spent sleepless nights fighting with himself on whether to call or not? Has he felt utterly alone and miserable? Has he walked by my building, has he stood on the street below my apartment and looked up, trying to find the courage to take the first step? And if he has, how come he did it today?
“Why now?” I ask.
“It was time.” He shrugs. “Long overdue really.” He scooches his chair closer and lays his hand next to mine on the table, hooking his pinkie in mine. “We should never have let this stupidity go on for this long.”
The hairs on my neck rise to attention at his light touch, and I want more. I want his entire hand covering mine, his arms wrapped around me, his body crowding mine. I want him to stake his claim, growl at anyone who looks at me with interest, I want him to take my breath away.
My eyes start to prickle. I try to blink the feeling away, but my vision grows blurry, and I let my eyelids fall closed. “You’re too hot-headed,” I mumble, voice thick.
“And you’re a stubborn fucker.” He squeezes my finger.
He’s not wrong.
Neither am I.
“Eight fucking months.” What was meant to be an angry roar comes out as though I’m choking back tears. But I can’t be; I’m not a crier. I haven’t cried since I was five and fell off my bike. I didn’t cry when my grampa died, I didn’t cry when Joakim left—or rather when I realized he wasn’t coming back—so I’m not going to cry now.
Joakim sighs. “I needed time to cool off.”
“That usually takes you eight minutes, not eight months.”
“Would you look at me?”
I shake my head, refusing his request. The prickle is still there—more intense now— and I’m not risking anything by looking at him.
“My blood was fucking boiling, Sami. I was afraid I’d say something I could never take back.”
“So instead, you said nothing.”
“You didn’t say anything either.”
Finally, I find my roar. “You called me a liar and a cheat. I was fucking hurt.” I rub my knuckles over my heart.
“I was hurt, too,” he roars back.
About the Author
Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)
Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.
Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.
Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.
Tropes: Lovers to enemies to lovers, second chance romance, race to uncover dangerous secrets
Themes: Fast-paced suspense, ex-cop with little left to lose, protective lawyer who loves too hard, hurt/comfort, broken trust, forgiveness (or not), family found, new start, Two men falling in love while dodging bullets and chasing bad guys
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 81 000 words
Crossing the Line is Book 2 in the Jake’s Bar series. It is a standalone romance with a satisfying end for the mystery. It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Holden Wright had it all—and lost it. Five months ago, he was on top: a decorated detective with a bright future. Then his father’s gambling destroyed everything. Left with nothing, Holden works nights at Jake’s Bar with no idea how to get his broken life back on track.
Brent Northwood has it all—except the man he loves. Brent made a deal with the devil to become a well-respected lawyer, but success doesn’t turn out to be all he ever wanted. His love for Holden started with a wild, crazy hookup in the rain, but it all came to an abrupt end when Brent lied—with best intention—but a lie is a lie and Holden can’t forgive.
Holden needs the successful lawyer back in his life about as badly as he needs the bullet hole his father put in his shoulder. But with secrets from Holden’s past threatening his future, Brent is the only one who can protect him. The two men forge a volatile truce to stay one step ahead of danger, but is it enough to mend the broken trust between them? Can they risk a second chance for love knowing what’s at stake?
But none of that matters if they can’t find out who is trying to take Holden down…
Series: Crossing the Line, Book 2 in the award-winning Jake’s Bar series, is a steamy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. So, download today, and get ready to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.
Excerpt
Holden topped off the beer and slammed it on the counter in front of Grey. The grungy mechanic tore his eyes away from a green-haired twink across the room. “What crawled up your ass tonight?”
JD’s was a gay bar and prime hookup spot, so there were a few dozen suitable answers, but Holden wasn’t feeling any of them. His mind was fucking with him—flashing lust-filled images from a past he’d buried deep in a box labeled “mistake.” For the past hour, while he was serving drinks and cashing out people as it got late, he had tried hard to ignore the man in a dark suit sitting at one of the high tables away from the crowds. It had been a good night until Brent Northwood showed up.
Grey took a sip and licked the foam off his lips with an exaggerated swirl of his tongue. On the other side of the bar green-hair rolled his eyes and turned away to follow his friends back to a booth. Grey had tried to get the guy’s attention a few times now and had consistently been shot down.
“You’re not Kyle’s type,” Holden said helpfully as he wiped down the beer taps.
Grey pulled a face. “It’s a shit night. The place was hopping for a while, but lately it’s been slow. I think Jake is in trouble. He hit gold when that blogger made a big deal out of JD’s, but there was just no way that was gonna last. JD’s doesn’t offer enough. In the end, it’s just a dingy corner bar.”
Then what the fuck are you doing here every night? Holden swallowed his acrid reply. Grey was a bit of an ass, however Holden was pretty sure that nothing but an empty apartment waited for the guy at the end of the day. Five months ago, he would have been quick to judge and discard JD’s regular, but these days, they had too much in common.
Before he could stop himself, Holden threw a glance across the room to the lanky man sitting motionless in the dim light. As always, Brent looked like he’d just stepped out of a courtroom. Impeccably dressed in an Armani suit. A face with square angles and full lips with a cupid’s bow. The dark five o’clock shadow was the only imperfection, but it enhanced his classic charms. Holden had always known he was bi. He’d experimented with both men and women, but Brent Northwood, almost ten years older, serious to the point of severe, wasn’t even his usual type. Still, nobody had ever been as irresistible.
Elbows resting on the table, the lawyer nursed a whiskey in his hands. He seemed lost in his thoughts. Luckily, Grey picked up their conversation again before Holden was caught staring. “Somebody must have bought the rundown movie theater next door. They’re renovating. The dumpster takes up half the parking spots on this side.”
“Yeah, Jake’s been talking about them hammering all day long. He’s pissed about the noise,” he replied.
“If that’s turned into a bar, Jake can bag it,” Grey said with gloomy delight. “I’m telling you, this is only the beginning.” He waved around the mostly empty place.
“Bullshit. It’s Tuesday. Tuesdays are slow.”
“And you’re stuck with Tuesdays.” Grey wasn’t done stirring shit up. “Maybe you should talk to Jake. You must be hurting for money after losing your cushy detective job—”
A hand came down on Holden’s back. “Grey, shut your mouth,” Jake growled at the mechanic. “Nobody needs your poison. Told you that before. If you can’t be civil, get the fuck out of my bar.”
It wasn’t an empty threat. Jake had zero tolerance for hate or stupidity, and he was fiercely protective of his staff. Jake grabbed a few empty bottles and tossed them into a crate under the bar. “Where is Jazz?”
“It was slow, so I sent them home a few minutes ago. They’ve got an exam tomorrow. Talked about it all night. I’ve got it covered and thought they could use a few extra hours of sleep,” Holden replied.
“Makes sense to take advantage of a nice, peaceful night,” Jake said with a happy sigh. He was the only bar owner Holden knew who got into a pissy mood when his place was packed with people. Jake loved peace and quiet, and most nights, JD’s Bar was anything but.
Jake stopped abruptly and squinted into the dimly lit taproom. “What’s the damn fixer doing here?”
“Northwood?” It was petty, but Holden took some perverse pleasure in the fact that Jake didn’t like Brent.
“Yeah, Brent fucking Northwood.”
About the Author
Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.
When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.
Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.
Tropes: Friends to lovers, second chance romance, rockstar
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: approx 45 000 words
It is book one in a new series. It does not end on a cliffhanger for the couple, but there are some unresolved conflicts that will reappear later in the series.
Vance Jamison Black. Lead singer for the band Maxim, and my first love. He broke my heart to follow his dream. Now, six years after the heartbreak, he is my job. I’ve worked hard for this internship and to get close to him again, but it doesn’t take long to realize we can’t be anything more than friends. Not when Maxim is so close to the success they’ve been chasing all this time.
Jamison I never knew how much I missed Vance Martin until I saw him in the last place I expected. He is my heart. Always has been, always will be. I’m his client, and he’s determined to keep me in the friend zone. A place I refuse to stay. I might have left my heart behind six years ago, but I won’t let him go again.
Jamison is the first book in the Maxim series. An MM Rockstar, best friends to lovers, second chance romance with two stubborn main characters, a too observant, witty and flamboyant interfering coworker, entertaining bandmates and friends, and a fake girlfriend who has forgotten her love isn’t real.
Excerpt
“Hey, you should come out with me tonight. I know this great club.” Klaus interrupts my thoughts about working with one of the biggest and most well-known record labels.
“Sure, why not?” I agree. I need to make friends and Klaus, with his big personality and flashy attire, seems to be the most welcoming. Besides, I should get to know the man if we are going to be working together for the next few months. What can it hurt? He’s harmless, right?
A few hours later, I’ve resigned myself to the knowledge that Klaus is anything but harmless as he drags me inside a crowded club. Every head turns in our direction, and while I’m not ashamed to be seen with him, it means I garner just as much attention for being at his side. The tight leather pants and black see-through top he’s wearing leave nothing to the imagination. Every man and woman we pass can clearly see the size of his package and the piercings in his nipples. I look and feel out of place in comparison with my jeans and an old Nirvana t-shirt.
When we reach the bar, Klaus orders a couple of shots and some fruity concoction for the two of us. I look around, taking in all the people. My eyes drift across the club, over the dance floor, and up to the second floor.
A glass wall surrounds a balcony sitting area where the VIPs avoid the crowd of commoners literally beneath them. Sitting at a table in the corner is a face I would recognize anywhere, even at a distance. I blink and he’s gone. Did I imagine it?
Klaus hands me a shot and I toss it back, letting the burn that slides down my throat bring me back to reality and the here and now.
“Here.” He hands me one of the fruity drinks. “Let’s dance.”
Maxim’s latest hit plays over the sound system and the buzz of alcohol and the steady beat of the music flow through me. The sexy, gravelly voice of Maxim’s lead singer lulls me into a sexually charged state. I close my eyes and let the rhythm take over, my body swaying in a dance learned years ago.
Jamison Black’s voice has seduced me, consoled me, and left me wanting since I was a teen. His rockstar looks: long dark hair and ice-blue eyes lined with kohl stirred my libido before I fully understood my attraction to men. Late night fantasies of his talented mouth on my skin, fantasies that still claim me when I’ve gone too long without release, flash through my mind.
The DJ switches songs, and my Jamison-induced spell is broken. I open my eyes and take in the club. Klaus, in all his flamboyant splendor, is dancing between two well-dressed men, probably corporate businessmen here to unwind. Too bad Klaus has set his sights on them.
I laugh and move from the dance floor to the bar for another drink. My inhibitions slowly drift away as the warm and sensual caress of alcohol unfurls in my veins. I glimpse myself in the mirror behind the bar. My cheeks are pink with the heat that permeates my body, and my hair is a ruffled mess from dancing.
The bartender hands me another of the fruity drinks Klaus had ordered earlier.
“Damn. That’s too bad. I’d hoped to make it over in time to buy you a drink.” A man that screams sleazy Hollywood moves to stand next to me. “I’m Chad. I hope I’m not being too forward, but are you here alone?”
“Uh,” I stall, searching the crowd for Klaus. “I’m here with—”
“There you are. I thought I’d lost you out there.”
The rich, melodic voice comes from behind and I close my eyes as an arm wraps around my waist, fingers gripping my hip.
“My apologies.” Chad sounds more annoyed than apologetic about the newcomer’s intrusion.
“No problem.” I can practically hear the forced politeness in his voice and open my eyes to tell Chad that I am not here with anyone but a friend. But he has since moved on to another target farther down the line of people at the bar.
Breathing deeply, I step away until the man’s arm at my back falls away, then turn to face a blast from my past. A sexy as fuck blast from the past.
About the Author
A.N. Waugh is an author of MM/MMM+ romances, a pansexual mess, and a firm believer that love is love.
For any chance at love, they must first be willing to trust.
Blurb
A proud fallen knight, Gentry Patterson likes to take people under his wing. Gifted with an easygoing nature, he makes friends effortlessly and, thanks to his love of cooking, often invites his inner circle over for meals. Gentry’s favorite week of the year is the annual retreat for his race, where he’s reunited with the many friends and colleagues he’s met through the years. The only thing that would enrich his existence is his mate, but he has yet to meet him.
Newly resurrected Tobias Kinsler wants to put his training behind him and make his superiors proud. However, Tobias is struggling. He keeps it to himself because he lacks people he’s willing to trust. With a mere few months of life under his belt, Tobias attends the fallen knights’ annual retreat and discovers his other half.
The two men have a sizzling connection from the start and waste no time binding their souls. Unfortunately, they will soon learn that secrets lurk beneath their growing friendship, and those secrets fracture the tenuous bond between them. As they chart an uncertain future, Gentry and Tobias must decide if they’re still willing to honor Fate.
Excerpt
Gentry relished the last bite of his dessert and grinned at Toby. “Did you want to dance?”
The room had filled with soft music, which was perfect to sway to. Many couples were already near the stage, moving to the melody.
“I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you. We don’t have to do anything crazy,” Gentry assured him.
Toby’s nerves and his lack of guile when it came to admitting everything he had no clue how to do endeared the fallen knight to Gentry.
“Slow dancing isn’t too difficult,” Gentry said.
“This will sound crazy, but I’m not the best at physical stuff.”
“Oh, come on, only Juris Knights suck at physical stuff,” Gentry said with a laugh.
Toby leaned toward Gentry so no one would overhear him. “The Juris Knight at our table doesn’t seem to agree.”
“He’s frowning, but it’s true. I’m a fallen knight, I can’t lie.”
“I can’t tell if you’re lying.”
“Yeah, I think Fate did that on purpose. It’s so I can lie to you if you have on a truly horrible outfit. I’ll assure you it’s wonderful.”
“Please tell me if I’m wearing something horrible.”
“If you insist,” Gentry said. “You sure you don’t want to dance?”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises that we won’t embarrass ourselves and the entire Order of the Fallen Knights.”
“Not being perfect at something doesn’t mean we’re letting down our entire race,” Gentry said as he stood. Once again, Gentry held out a hand to Toby, who didn’t hesitate to take it after he rose. Gentry weaved between the tables with Toby in tow until he reached the cleared area that served as the dance floor.
“Okay, what do I do?” Toby asked when they stopped.
Gentry turned to face Toby and put an arm around him. It brought them closer, and Gentry sternly warned his dick to behave. Without the need to be told, Toby mirrored his actions. Since they hadn’t let go of each other, Gentry raised his other arm so they were in the proper position to dance.
“Just move your feet from side to side. We don’t have to do anything fancy. Follow my lead.”
“I can do that.”
Within a minute or two they synced their footsteps and were moving slowly to the lovely music piping through the speakers.
“I told you it was easy,” Gentry said.
“I like being close to you.”
“We’re killing this mate thing so far.”
“You’re the first person who doesn’t make me nervous to be around them,” Toby confided.
There was such earnestness in his pretty eyes that Gentry unconsciously came to a stop.
“Are you okay?” Toby asked.
“I’d like to kiss you.”
Without a word, Toby raised up onto his toes, and Gentry wasn’t stupid enough to deny the invitation. Their lips met with exquisite tenderness. It was a moment frozen in time, and Gentry vowed to remember it for eternity. When Toby tilted his head, Gentry didn’t bother to resist darting his tongue out to deepen their caress.
Toby moaned softly as they explored each other. While couples milled around them, Gentry lost all awareness of the outside world. He was steeped in Toby. They broke apart slowly, and Gentry stared into Toby’s stunned gaze.
“I’m glad I waited for you to be my first kiss,” Toby said.
Gentry smiled at him. “I’m glad you did too.”
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.
Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
Trope/s: Friends to lovers, second chance romance, rockstar
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: approx 45 000 words
It is book one in a new series. It does not end on a cliffhanger for the couple, but there are some unresolved conflicts that will reappear later in the series.
Vance Jamison Black. Lead singer for the band Maxim, and my first love. He broke my heart to follow his dream. Now, six years after the heartbreak, he is my job. I’ve worked hard for this internship and to get close to him again, but it doesn’t take long to realize we can’t be anything more than friends. Not when Maxim is so close to the success they’ve been chasing all this time.
Jamison I never knew how much I missed Vance Martin until I saw him in the last place I expected. He is my heart. Always has been, always will be. I’m his client, and he’s determined to keep me in the friend zone. A place I refuse to stay. I might have left my heart behind six years ago, but I won’t let him go again.
Jamison is the first book in the Maxim series. A MM Rockstar, best friends to lovers, second chance romance with two stubborn main characters, a too observant, witty and flamboyant interfering coworker, entertaining bandmates and friends, and a fake girlfriend who has forgotten her love isn’t real.
Excerpt
“Your music has garnered you a growing fan club, and I think you’re on the verge of hitting it big.” Lance Macallister, owner of Twisted Records, always starts these meetings the same: compliments on our music—because let’s face it, we’re good—followed by a reprimand for our behavior. Or, more accurately, Alex’s behavior.
“But?” I ask, prompting the reaming we’re all here for.
“But,”—he meets each of our stares—“we have to do something about the band’s image if you want to go any further in your careers. Ronnie spotted your talent that night six years ago, but talent only gets you so far.”
Ronnie offers me a polite smile. The man has been our manager since we won a battle of the bands contest in some hole in the wall bar, but he lacks any of the aggressiveness needed to keep a band of young twenty-somethings in line. Especially as he’s not that much older than us.
“What do you need us to do? I thought me dating Marcy was enough to eclipse any bad publicity coming our way.” The last time our lead guitarist, Alexander Gregory, pulled a stunt that got us called into this conference room, he’d trashed a hotel room and punched a bellhop. Macallister’s solution was to throw the popular up-and-coming actress, Marcy Dixon, at me. By redirecting the attention to my relationship with the popular starlet—no matter how fake it is—Macallister had kept Alex’s destructive behavior from the press. I’d do anything for Maxim, and it’s not as though pretending to date Marcy is a hardship. She’s gorgeous, and the sex is good. Our relationship may be fake, but I’m still a man with needs. Marcy understands that it’s all for show with a little fun on the side to ease the tension once in a while.
“It is. For now. But you’re gaining in popularity with your new single, ‘For Tonight’. It won’t be long until your faces are all over the entertainment rags. And when that happens, they’ll show the bad alongside the good.” Jude Thomas, Macallister’s friend and business partner, glares at us like the heathens he likely considers us. The man hasn’t had a smile for us since we met. Ronnie assures me he likes us, but that’s hard to believe when all he does is look down his nose at us and glare before rushing from the room after each meeting.
“Jude is right. We need to keep ahead of any potential disasters,” Macallister says. Meaning we needed to get Alex to fall in line before we lose the label any money. “I’ve hired a PR team specifically for Maxim. They’ll be here in two days for introductions before you leave for tour.”
“Yes. You’ll be opening for Tainted as they tour the country. I’ve also taken the liberty of hiring a stylist. He’ll be heading on tour with you and the PR team.”
I look at my bandmates to gauge their reactions to the news. Alex looks pissed. What else is new? Anders looks indifferent, ready to go with the flow of whatever we decide to do. Thierry Lachlan, Maxim’s drummer, and Rierdan Hughes, bassist, are both looking to me, concern for the band’s future clear on their faces.
“I’m sorry, okay.” Alex grits out the words between clenched teeth.
“You’re always sorry, Mr. Gregory,” Jude throws back at him, his tone clearly saying he doesn’t believe Alex deserves another chance.
“Which is why you will be required to attend anger management sessions. Since we can’t postpone the tour, they will be held virtually and to ensure you follow through, we have assigned a member of the PR team to attend alongside you.” Macallister gathers the papers sitting on the table in front of him. “I’ll see you in two days, gentlemen. Try not to get into any trouble before then.”
Jude hightails it from the conference room while McAllister and Ronnie leisurely take their leave. No one says a word until the door closes behind them.
“Fuck! Alex, you need to tame whatever the hell issues you have.” Thierry shoves a hand into his dark blond mane, gripping the roots and dislodging the hair tie holding his bun in place.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Thierry’s right. If you don’t get yourself under control, Maxim will suffer for it.” Even Anders, the usually carefree, go with the flow guy, is noticeably frustrated with our guitarist.
“I think this anger management Macallister has planned will be good for you, Alex,” I tell him, and I mean it. He’s always been the angriest of our group, but the past few years have seen him move into a wave of hostility I can only describe as self-hatred.
Alex grunts his disapproval but doesn’t argue. He wants Maxim to be successful as much as the rest of us. After six years, we’re finally getting a chance to prove we’re worthy of all Twisted Records has put in to get us here.
Rierdan slams his palm down on the table, jerking my attention to the smile stretching his face. “We’re going on tour. Maxim is going to be headlining for fucking Tainted!”
About the Author
A.N. Waugh is an author of MM/MMM+ romances, a pansexual mess, and a firm believer that love is love.
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