Can two very different men turn an intense holiday romance into lasting love?
Blurb
Jude
I shoot my mouth off and hide behind my smile as I try—and fail—to fill the void inside. Nothing has felt right since I was medically discharged from the army. Can there be more to life than a dead-end job and meaningless hook-ups?
Kasper
I didn’t expect to win a Cuffd Destinations holiday, let alone meet a sexy guy who’s fun to be around. Jude doesn’t think he’s a Daddy, but I’m going to prove him wrong. Who knows what we might discover along the way?
Crazy Little Thing Cold Love is part of the Destination Daddies Season Two multi-author series. It features an emotionally scarred army veteran, a bubbly boy who sees the world in a unique way, summer snow, lots of steam, and a happy ending. Each book can be read as a standalone, but there are so many destinations and Daddies to discover, why not grab them all?
Trigger warning for mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, and nightmares.
Excerpt
I found a spare stool at the bar and ordered a drink. It took me about thirty seconds to notice I was sitting next to a muscly guy with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had his back to the wall while nursing a tumbler of scotch on the rocks as he surveyed the room. He was Hollywood’s definition of gorgeous. Not that it would matter if he didn’t have a personality to match his roguish good looks and body builder-scale muscles. I hadn’t talked to him yet, which meant another twizzle stick was about to be mine.
“Hi,” I said, gesturing towards his lanyard. “I’m mint leaves, and you are…?”
“Light rum.”
Flashes of hot pink ignited at the edges of my vision, dominating the other colours already dancing there. The colour of his voice was beautiful, which was a good start.
“Really? That means that together, we’re a mojito.”
The man laughed. “I think we’re missing a few ingredients.” Vibrant pink swirled and undulated with the rhythm of his words.
“Maybe a mojito in potential?”
He laughed louder while I motioned to the barman.
“Light rum and mint leaves,” I told him.
He nodded, checked off our combination on a list, and gave us a twizzle stick. Twenty-four. I had more than hot-pink guy.
“How come you’re not mixing?” I asked.
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Now you are, but you were alone when I came over.”
“I needed a breather.”
“Yeah, me too.” I turned around to face away from the bar and leant against it. I’m Kasper, by the way.” I held my hand out.
“Jude.”
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Tropes: Gay awakening; rich sports star meets poor student
Themes: Coming out; competitive cycling; overcoming adversity; perseverance; HEA
Heat Rating for the series: 3 - 4 flames
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
The books are standalone but the reader would benefit from reading them in sequence to fully appreciate the setting and supporting characters of Clydesdale, a fictitious town in the California Sierra mountains.
American cycling sensation and heartthrob Clifford Du Frey is riding the wave of success. Brand Du Frey is a multi-million-dollar business, and during the Tour de France, Clifford is mobbed by fans wherever he goes. The superstar must focus on winning the Tour de France and maintaining his fan base. But Clifford has a secret. He has fallen hard for Gabe O’Reilly – the dreamy art student from San Francisco whom he met on a summer’s day in Paris. Can Clifford and Gabe’s budding relationship withstand the media storm and other forces arraigned against them? Can the grit and determination that propelled Clifford to the top of his sport help him break out to find true love and happiness?
You will root for Clifford and Gabe as they take you on a steaming hot ride through France and all the way back to their native California.
LOVE AT LAKE CLYDE, BOOK 2
Book Title: Master of the Wild
Author and Publisher: Aiden Ainslie
Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Length: 88 500 words/ 364 pages
Release Date: January 27, 2022
Genre: Contemporary MM Romance
Tropes: Opposites attract; roommates to lovers; protect your bruised heart by never falling in love again; rich guy poor guy; proving oneself in a strange environment
Themes: Fairy tales; clash of city and country; wilderness challenge; meddling townsfolk; HEA.
Heat Rating for the series: 3 - 4 flames
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
The books are standalone but the reader would benefit from reading them in sequence to fully appreciate the setting and supporting characters of Clydesdale, a fictitious town in the California Sierra mountains.
IT whiz, Conner O’Reilly, moves from London to California to lick his wounds and recover after the break-up of a bad relationship. He is determined to find a job and start a new life. The last thing he needs is another romantic entanglement. But Conner hasn’t bargained on meeting Ewan Driscoll. Wild, tattooed, gorgeous, messed-up Ewan, who has more baggage than a freight train.
Will Conner be sensible and get his life back on track, or will his heart lead him into the wilderness?
Excerpt from “King of the Mountain”
GABE
Cliff stood in the shallows. His pale skin gave him the quality of a Michelangelo marble statue. His body had magnificent, classical proportions. Every muscle was clearly defined as though chiseled in stone and smoothed to perfection under the loving hand of a master sculptor. I wondered if he realized just how beautiful he was. And I still found it hard to believe that he was giving me the gift of his time.
He watched me as I strode toward him and, when I shook the water out of my hair, he warned, “Don’t you dare splash me. I like to get in slowly.”
“I won’t splash you,” I said as I stopped in front of him. His eyes were unbelievable. The aquamarine of the water reflected off his blue eyes. I had the sensation of looking into a kaleidoscope of colors yet to be invented. I placed my hands on his shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks.
He was startled but did not back away. “What was that for?” he asked.
“We have not had a chance to greet each other yet – the French way. The way you taught me. And,” I continued, “to say I’m sorry.”
I gave him my sweetest smile.
“Sorry for wha….”
He did not get to finish the sentence because I folded one leg behind him and, in the most basic of wrestling moves, tipped him backward into the water.”
The look on his face was priceless, and I burst out laughing when his head emerged, spluttering and cursing.
He reached out a hand and said, “You can at least help me up.”
I took hold of his hand and found myself yanked off my feet with Cliff dunking my head underwater. I shook myself free and rose from the waves to see Cliff making a run for the beach. I lurched after him, tackled him, and dragged him back into the water. He laughed and spluttered till he gained his footing and rounded on me, grabbing my waist. His hands stroked over my hip bones, and I started laughing. He had inadvertently found my weak spot, the most ticklish part of my body. Cliff was not one to let such an advantage pass him by. He held me tight with one arm curved around my chest while his free hand tickled my hip bone without mercy. I giggled and squirmed helplessly in his arms.
We horsed around in the water like a couple of drunken teenagers. Drunk on sunshine, drunk on life, drunk on L… I did not dare to complete the thought. Who was I to think a man like Clifford du Frey would fall in love with me? For all I knew, he was straight as straight can be. Sports stars let off steam by horsing around with their teammates. And after the grueling days on the road, he sure needed some fun to relax and unwind.
I reminded myself that a man could bathe in the warmth of the sun, but that did not mean the sun cared about the man’s existence. He was an international celebrity, a superstar. As unattainable as the sun itself. And we all knew what happened to those who flew too close to the sun.
After a few more minutes of splashing and laughing, I got his glistening body in a half nelson and made him concede that I was a superior wrestler.
Cliff stood bent-over, panting. I beat my chest like Tarzan and hollered at the waves, “I, Neptune, King of the Sea, have conquered the one and only King of the Mountain.”
He smiled his most disdainful smile, came to stand right in front of me, and said, “Just wait till I get you up into the mountains.”
“What are you going to do?” I teased, “Drag me into your castle and tie me up?”
His nostrils flared, and his face showed such a mixture of emotions that I was at a loss to interpret them.
“For starters,” he said, “I’ll whip your ass….”
I caught my breath.
He continued, “…at skiing.”
He drew himself up to his full height, which meant I was looking directly at his lips and the stubble on his chin. I ached to reach out and feel that roughness. I did not just want to feel it with my hands; I wanted to feel it on my neck, my chest, on every square inch of my body. He parted his lips, and I imagined the sweet, salty taste they would leave on my tongue.
My throat was suddenly dry. I licked my lips and looked up at the eyes that were waiting to bore into mine. Our chests were only separated by a minuscule air gap and two thin layers of water that were rapidly evaporating under our bodies' heat. I stood motionless; my heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure Cliff could hear it. I had the sensation of my chest hair vibrating to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
About the Author
Aiden Ainslie lives in the Diablo foothills, east of San Francisco. When he is not writing or listening to audiobooks, he likes to cycle and hike. During those solitary pursuits, he dreams up the characters and plots for his MM Romance novels.
Aiden and his family have two dogs that keep him busy and he also enjoys zipping around town on his motor scooter, drinking coffee at the local coffee shops, and watching people to get inspiration for his writing.
According to Aiden, "Setting and mood are critical parts of a romantic story, hence I am always taking pictures of romantic settings to be used in future novels".
Deception is new to Greyson and Morgen, but they’ll soon learn it has surrounded them all along.
Blurb
Greyson Variusdraconis is a newly shifted dragon searching for purpose. Growing up in the Consilium Veneficus, his tutors taught him not to trust Fate. Raised by his elder brother who serves their king directly, Greyson still lives under his sibling’s roof. King Varius recently signed a treaty, so Greyson’s job is guarding wizards. Greyson finds it boring, and he worries his brother will never accept his desire to avoid a political arranged marriage.
As a child, Morgen Bassett struggled to find his footing. Two centuries later, the wizard works in a tiny library, lacks family, and has a rented room barely large enough for its furniture. Although Morgen’s early education included mentions of matebonds, the split between the Council of Sorcery and Shifters and the Consilium changed everything. With no promise of his other half or anything else, Morgen is doing little more than surviving.
On an otherwise normal trip to the supermarket, Greyson and Morgen meet, and neither man is prepared for the force of their connection. Not long after the sparks fly between them, Greyson accepts a mission to infiltrate the Draconis High Court of D’Vaire. The pair will have to find a way to stay together. Should they be successful in gaining entry, they’ll also need to learn how to unearth all the D’Vaire secrets. However, Greyson and Morgen will soon find that nothing about their lives is what it seems.
Excerpt
Morgen was poking through his options, looking for the smallest cuts of meat, when he suddenly got an erection.
It was senseless, and Morgen was so hard, his mouth fell open in surprise. Before he could register any further response, the scent of Earl Grey tea filled his senses. Out of every type of tea he’d tasted, nothing pleased him more than Earl Grey.
The package in his hand slipped out of his grasp, but Morgen never heard it plop onto a pile of wrapped meats. His gaze swept down the aisle, and Morgen didn’t have to wonder for long what he was searching for. The most handsome man he’d ever seen stalked toward Morgen with a smile gracing his overtly masculine features.
Morgen’s brain screamed that the man was a shifter of some sort as he noted his impressive height and broad shoulders. His raven hair was messy but artistically cut and hung past the tops of his ears in the front and nearly to his collar in the back. High cheekbones drew Morgen’s attention to his scaly grey gaze, which told him the stranger was a dragon.
For a moment, there was a flash of iridescence in his irises, but Morgen though that might’ve been a figment of his imagination thanks to the lack of blood flow to his brain. While he stared like a ninny, he had forgotten to breathe, and he forced oxygen into his lungs as the man came to a standstill a few feet from him. Morgen had ignored Fate for centuries, but she apparently hadn’t disregarded him.
The Consilium taught their people that matebonds were silly and useless. However, as Morgen stared up at his other half, he knew that was bullshit. Sizzling through his veins was an undeniable connection, and Morgen wanted to embrace it fully.
“Hi, I’m Grey.”
“How did you know you smell like Earl Grey?” Morgen asked dumbly.
The grin on his face grew larger, and his lovely eyes twinkled with humor. “I didn’t, but that’s kind of incredible. My name is Greyson, though most call me Grey.”
“Oh.”
“Are you going to give me your name?”
“Bloody hell,” Morgen muttered. “Yes, of course. I’m Morgen.”
“I thought wizards were all colors on the rainbow, but your eyes are brown. Are you a type of dark wizard like the High Arcanist in the Council?”
Although Greyson appeared friendly rather than condescending, Morgen had dealt with too much nonsense about his lack of color in his life.
“No,” Morgen stated coldly. “I’m a colorless wizard, and I no longer practice magic.”
The smile fell from Greyson’s perfect lips. “Apologies if I’ve offended you.”
“It’s a question I’m asked often, but no offense was taken.”
“Believe it or not, I understand a bit. I’ve shifted into a dragon, which makes some uncomfortable,” Greyson confided.
“Your eyes are grey. I know little about dragons, but I’d heard that grey and brown were the most common colors.”
“And so they are,” Greyson remarked. “But I’ve a strange belly that’s an iridescent whitish color. If the sunlight hits it, you can see a rainbow, though it’s paler than the ones you see in the sky. Perhaps Fate was trying to tell me I have a wizard mate.”
“I’ve always been fond of rainbows.”
Greyson reached out and, to Morgen’s shock, pushed aside the blond hair hanging over his eyebrows.
“I thought when I first glanced at you that you had brown eyes. Now I see it’s not so simple. You have several shades of brown that radiate from your irises. They’re beautiful. It’s much like your hair, which is a lovely mix of browns and blonds.”
“Thanks. Everything about you is beautiful,” Morgen murmured as he tried to extract some level of intelligent thought from his flummoxed brain.
Meeting his mate in a supermarket hadn’t been on his agenda, and he’d never given thought to having one at all. If he had, Morgen wouldn’t have pictured someone so handsome and pleased to see him. It shamed him that he’d given up on Fate, and Morgen dared not make that mistake again.
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.
Variant children are vanishing at an alarming rate. It will take a uniquely mismatched pair of trackers to untangle a web of conspiracy and misdirection to find them.
Blurb
In his isolated cabin, variant Damien Hazelwood avoids human contact as much as possible to prevent attacks of blind berserker panic. But his rare talent as a locator makes him the go-to contractor for tricky missing person's cases and when agents bring him a troubling contract involving missing variant children, he finds it impossible to refuse.
Licensed tracker Blaze Emerson can't help being irritated when he's expected to follow the strange, twitchy locator's lead on his latest case. He works alone, he's damn good, and as a variant sparker, he has both the fire and the firepower to take on anything out there. Though he has to admit there's something intriguing about a man who can find people with his brain. With vastly different temperaments and backgrounds, Damien and Blaze need to negotiate quickly how to work together if they're going to crack this case. Add in the sudden appearance of Blaze's outlaw ex, the perils of tracking in the wilds, and a maddening lack of discernible motive or method, and they soon find themselves in as much danger as the kids they're trying to rescue.
Variant Configurations takes place in a future Earth where humanity is reclaiming its spot in a gradually healing world. This book contains mentions of past abuse, action-adventure style mayhem, and the beginning sparks of a slow burn, series-spanning relationship.
Excerpt
The ice around the weed bed glowed blue as first morning rays stretched tentative fingers across the lake. Even the sun was smart enough not to rush out of bed on a cold-as-a-penguin's-pecker Vermont morning. Damien, however, apparently suffered from some intellectual deficiency since he was out on the lake already with his ice chisel, chipping away at a likely spot for a fishing hole.
His breath ghosted in front of him, every gulp of air biting into his lungs. It wasn't that he liked the cold or enjoyed the self-sufficient, mountain-man lifestyle. He hated it. His hands always hurt. He was always hungry. It took him forever to warm his lonely bed at night no matter how many pairs of socks he put on, the frame rattling with his shaking for an hour or more.
Chip-chip-chip. The ice chisel on six-inch lake ice echoed back to him off his cabin in a strange, one-sided conversation.
The move wasn't for his health or even part of a dream of a better life. He had left Raleigh to escape. Yes, he could have taken it a step farther and vanished. Away from the coasts, out in the abandoned wilds to the west, he might have found somewhere to hole up. Much of the land surrounding the Mississippi was still poisoned, but farther out toward Kansas, the remains of chemical skirmishes diminished.
The life of a wilding was dangerous for a lone person, though, and the constant need to be on high alert against scavengers who roamed the wastelands would have worn him down to nothing within a few months. Here, he was close enough to civilization for relative safety, far enough away for some peace. He'd given a promise for a promise, after all—his promise to Dr. Parma that he would still take the jobs he was uniquely suited to and her promise that he would be a last resort.
Mostly, the arrangement worked.
Up here, they couldn't hound him so easily with every minute need. Up here, anyone seeking him out had to go to considerable trouble to reach him. They knew where he was, of course. The inconvenient locale enforced the mandate that they think long and hard before paying a call, and now they only showed up when they had exhausted other options.
So he pretended not to hear the crunch of the snow-crawler's treads as it trundled up the snow-crusted hill accompanied by the whisper-hum of its solar battery engine. Then he deluded himself a few more minutes with the fantasy of late-season sport fishermen. The voices, when they reached him, shattered his careful illusion.
Chip-chip-chip. If I ignore them this time, will they give up and go away? Probably not. Please go away.
"That's him? He's kinda puny," an unfamiliar voice rasped.
They hadn't sent Cummings? What idiot was in charge now? They'd sent some stranger as the messenger, someone who didn't understand him?
"Variants come in all the usual shapes and sizes, Wirth."
There was Cummings. Thank God for small favors.
"But Sledge—"
"Is just one guy," Cummings snapped, obviously losing patience with what had to be a rookie.
Footsteps crunched through the snow toward him. Damien tried to block them out, but his muscles tensed. The terrible sensation of having someone walking up behind him crawled up his back on millipede legs.
Chip-chip-chip.
"Wirth, hold up! You don't want—"
Something touched Damien's elbow. The millipede crawling up his spine leaped into his brain and exploded in a thousand spiny pieces. He whirled, snarling, and swept the ice chisel at whatever had put a hand on him without permission.
"Holy fuck!" A dark-haired man leaped back from the makeshift halberd. He fell on his ass and scrabbled backward on the ice, his eyes cow-patty huge in shock.
"I tried to warn you," Cummings said calmly from the bank. A squared-off man with salt-and-pepper hair, he was the perfect bland-faced federal agent. He stood with his hands in his trench-coat pockets, stance relaxed and nonthreatening. There was a reason they usually sent him alone instead of sending a team or someone from the Guild, as they'd done once or twice. Cummings didn't judge. Cummings understood Damien's boundaries. "Maybe you'll learn to listen now."
"He tried to fucking kill me!" The intrusive man, presumably Wirth, still scrambled backward as he failed to get his feet under him.
"No. You invaded his space without warning. You don't do that. I might kill you if you don't stop acting like a jackass," Cummings grated out, shaking his head. Then he gave a nod to Damien and said more evenly, "Hazelwood. Good to see you."
About the Author
Angel Martinez is the pen name of a writer of several genres who writes both kinds of queer fiction – Science Fiction and Fantasy. (What? There are others?) Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware, (and full time inside the author's head) Angel has one husband, one son, at least one cat at any given time, a changing variety of other furred and scaled companions, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.
Our parents may have fallen in love, but there’s no love lost between us.
Even though I know he hates me, I think he hates that he wants me more than anything else.
And what he doesn’t know, is that I think I want him too.
About the Authors
Yolanda Olson is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.
Ally Vance is an International Bestselling Author who writes in the Dark Romance & Horror genres. Ally has been writing since she was a teenager, and it had been a long-time dream of hers to finally become a published author. Ally lives in Kent, in the United Kingdom, with her husband, son, and their two crazy kitties; Kian and Declan.
He’d risk his life to find his brother. But he never expected to risk his heart.
Blurb
Three months since his brother went MIA, and Lane Matthews is tired of waiting for answers from overseas. Calling in a favour from his CO, he gets a posting to Jeddah—his first overseas deployment and where his brother was stationed—and the opportunity to try to find him.
Life in a foreign land isn’t quite as he imagined, and neither are his duties. And while his first encounter with his housemate, Tristan, may be memorable, it’s for all the wrong reasons.
Tristan catches him off guard but falling for the hot—straight?—soldier is definitely not in his future. Tensions rise as Lane gets closer to discovering the truth behind his brother’s disappearance, but even the best-laid plans can get swept off course and lost like a grain of sand in the desert.
This MM military romance from Beth Laycock features an age gap, a bratty MC, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, and of course a HEA.
Excerpt
The driver parked up, and I clambered out of the car as if I were waking from a dream—the heat a slap in the face after the blast of the AC. My CO, or who I assumed was my commanding officer, strode my way, every inch the army man with the stiff walk and straight back.
“Matthews?” He thrust a meaty hand at me, and I shook it as he crushed my palm in his.
“Yes, sir. Lane, Lane Matthews. The Duke of Lancaster’s regiment.”
“Major Tibbins. Glad to have you here. I won’t lie; we struggled to cover the last guard’s shifts when he left, so we’re happy to have you here.”
Guard? What guard? He released my hand and clapped me on the back. I staggered under the weight, catching myself before I stumbled.
“We’ll start you on gate duty in the hut you just drove past, but you’ll probably be able to rotate with the others soon. Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you, but I’ll let you get settled in. Reception has your accommodation details and duty roster. You’re not on until tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll swing by before then. Any questions, just let me know. I’m here to help you settle in.”
He waited a beat, but when all I could do was nod in response, he strode off, leaving me to stare after him, more than a little shell-shocked.
I shuffled into reception and waited as the man behind the counter spoke to a woman with a kid sat on her hip about the nursery. Army wife? Another woman popped up behind the desk before I could give it more consideration.
“Hi, can I help you?”
After a whirlwind of paperwork, I left with a set of keys and a folder of documents. I grabbed the map and followed the tarmac path-slash-road into a housing complex. I wound my way through the houses until I found mine in the corner and fumbled the key into the lock as I finished reading my roster.
After more years than I wanted to consider in the reserves, my first proper assignment would be as a guard. A glorified fucking babysitter. What the fuck? This was not how I imagined my first overseas posting with the army. Not leaving the compound all day. I wouldn’t be a soldier like my brother. How the hell was I going to find out what had happened to him—if he was even alive still—if I would be stuck in a hut all alone?
I needed to find the soldiers he served with, question them. Find out what they were doing to locate Jake. I couldn’t just wander onto their base, and I knew none of his teammates to ask. I was screwed. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Steve, my CO back home, and maybe my dad seeing as he went way back with Steve, had had a hand in keeping me on the compound. Probably with how Steve had helped me get posted here in the first place.
I slammed the front door shut with my foot, still staring at the goddamned piece of paper, and flung my rucksack to the floor. It knocked into the console table and rattled a can of pens. I slapped the handle of my suitcase down so hard the case fell over and crashed against the wall. A groan of frustration slipped out as I slumped against the doorway and buried my hands in my hair.
“You quite finished taking your tantrum out on my home?”
The deep voice had me jerking away from the wall as my eyes flew open. I’d thought I was alone. Why was there someone in my house? Wait, his home? “I wasn’t having a tantrum.”
One thin eyebrow arched in response and, yeah, sounding like a spoilt brat wasn’t my best defence. But then all reasonable thoughts disappeared as the surprise of someone else being there wore off and I took in the man standing before me.
A man I could’ve conjured straight from my spank bank: a couple of inches taller than my six feet and much, much broader than me. With his bare chest, it was all too easy to see just how ripped he was, and I licked my lips in response. His dog tags nestled in the valley between his pecs and my gaze wandered lower over each peak and dip of his abs and traced the veins disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts.
He cleared his throat and my gaze shot up to his, meeting dark brown eyes that seemed to mock me. Do not blatantly check out guys you’ve just met, Lane. Unless you want to get punched. Especially not a straight guy, if the edge to his glare was anything to go by. I gulped.
“It sure sounded like a tantrum.”
“I didn’t know anybody else was here.”
He smirked and a dimple appeared, softening the sharp angles of his jaw that was accentuated by the hard bristles of his beard. “So, it’s not a tantrum if you’re alone?”
About the Author
Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.
As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.
Beth’s books range from sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always guaranteed.
Twenty-two-year-old artist Jayden Barron is summoned home from New York City by his father to assist in the family business of painting and selling replica art to international rogue buyers. Nothing prepares him for what he encounters when he arrives, however, his entire family is missing.
Those his father has been dealing with rarely return missing people alive. The family attorney sends Jayden out of the country for his protection, straight into a haunted castle with a singing ghost who leaves him lilacs in the middle of the night. Fortunately, the castle also has Harlan Wendell.
HARLAN WENDELL
Affluent, generous, thirty-two-year-old, German interpreter, Harlan Wendell has every material possession he could want, but no love in his life. He hires young Jayden to recreate his family portraits lost in a fire. It isn't long before he realizes that Jayden is much more than an employee to him, and they begin a relationship that fulfills both their desires.
When events take a dramatic turn and secrets are revealed, can Harlan protect Jayden and their love?
Age Gap, Rogue Artist, German Translator, Haunted Castle, Missing Family, Secrets, Steamy, MM Romance Suspense, HEA, KU
Excerpt
Harlan unlocked the door and let them inside the room. He wanted to know why Harlan had called him to the Fireplace room. He had dismissed his guards and his assistant. What does he need to discuss now?
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you some wine?”
“I’d like a full glass,” Jayden said as he relaxed in a very comfy chair.
Offering him wine right away made him worry he had bad news. He couldn’t take any more sadness, especially about his family. Something positive would help. Getting drunk would also help, but Harlan didn’t allow his employees to drink to oblivion. Right now, he wished he could meet his Academy friends for a drink at the English pub in Greenwich Village. He should have told his father no; he had his own life to live. He might have been in New York, not here with a deliciously sexy man acting like a world leader.
Harlan poured red wine into two crystal goblets, handed him one, then sat in the other plush chair.
“Is everything okay so far?” Harlan asked.
“Not exactly. Some strange things happened last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this morning?” Harlan crossed his arms.
“I had to check some things out first.” He didn’t look like he had a lot of patience. Why does he act like he’s a king?Get over yourself.
“Tell me now,” he ordered.
“When I was sleeping, someone came in my room and put a vase of lilacs on my dresser. My door was locked.” For some reason, Harlan didn’t look a bit shocked. He behaved as if it were a normal occurrence in the castle. Then he remembered what Mr. Wagner had told him about the castle being haunted. At the time, he hadn’t believed in such things as castles haunted by ghosts. Someone could be living here without Harlan’s knowledge, but he seemed to be a man of details. Nothing would get past him.
“I didn’t put lilacs in your room. The only other people with the keys to your room are your guards, and I doubt they would do that as a joke.”
“I don’t think they would either. Maybe a ghost did.”
“A ghost! It could very well be. Stranger things have happened around here in the past. No one has ever seen a ghost, but doors slam and sometimes, things break without an explanation. It’s been like that since I was a child.”
“Why don’t we look for who is pretending to be a ghost?”
“So far, we haven’t had any problems. If it’s a ghost, it’s a friendly one. I don’t think about it that much anymore.”
“I’d like Blaine to bunk in my room, so I’m not alone.”
“Blaine is only seventeen. He can’t sleep with you.” He clenched his teeth and shot Jayden a death stare.
“Did I say anything about sleeping with him? There’s a smaller bed along the wall.” Jayden raised his voice more than he had wanted to.
“I’m not allowing it.”
“What do you think will go on in my room with Blaine?” Jayden scrunched up his face in anger, puzzled by Harlan’s unfounded jealousy.
“Don’t you see how he looks at you? He admires you a lot more than you realize.”
“And how is that?” He thought Harlan was overreacting and imagining something that didn’t exist.
“He wants to have a relationship with you.”
“That’s nuts. We’re not going to fuck. Are you jealous of Blaine?”
Harlan threw his wine goblet at the fireplace; the shattering glass pained Jayden’s ears. For a moment, everything blurred after his outburst.
Jayden teared up from Harlan’s behavior. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong, but Blaine just wants to be friends.”
Harlan frowned at Jayden. “He’s not staying in your room. I’m not a fool.”
Jayden stood up and wiped his tears with the back of his hands. “Fuck this shit. I’m out of here. I don’t understand why you’re talking shit about me or Blaine.”
“There will be consequences for your blatant disrespect to me. I don’t allow anyone to speak to me in that manner.” He glared at him.
“And I don’t allow anyone to break shit out of anger around me,” Jayden shouted back at him.
“You will do what I tell you to do, so I can keep you safe. You’ll be punished for being disrespectful to me.”
“Punished. I don’t get punished.” Jayden gulped the rest of his wine.
“You will when I discuss the consequences for breaking the rules after you sign a contract.”
“What are you talking about?” Jayden was beyond confused. If he continued to act like this, there would be no contract. He was so immature and jealous for no reason.
About the Author
I am from Huntington Beach, Ca. I taught various subjects at a Continuation High School in Los Angeles, California for 27 years. I obtained a Bachelor’s of Arts Degree in History, Secondary Social Science Credential and a Master’s Degree in Secondary Reading and Secondary Education from California State University, Long Beach. I also enrolled in some creative writing classes at UCLA.
