Showing posts with label snippet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snippet. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Teaser Tuesday: Body Rocks (Off Beat #1) Snippet

For this week's Teaser Tuesday, I'm offering up a snippet from chapter two of my upcoming book Body Rocks, the first in a new series with SMP Swerve. This is my first rock star romance, featuring heroes Dominic Bounds and Trey "Coop" Cooper. 

I had a lot of fun writing these two and their friends, and I'm having twice as much fun writing book two, Steady Stroke.

In this scene, Dom and Coop have only recently met and are hanging out doing guy stuff, like racing go karts around a track. And flirting. Lots of flirting.

#######

“So you play bass and keyboard, and you have an amazing voice,” Dom said. “Anything else I don’t know about?”

“I have a pretty cute ass, too.”

The flirty remark made Dom’s dick twitch with interest. “Is that your personal opinion, or is this coming from a secondary source?”

“Both.” Coop’s lazy smile combined with his very open appraisal of Dom’s body kind of made Dom want to skip the go karts and find a private place so he could nail Coop’s cute ass. “You want to find out for yourself?”

“Oh, I am definitely finding out for myself.”

Coop’s gentle laughter sent excited shivers down Dom’s spine. 

The go kart track was on the west side of town, tucked in behind a bunch of chain stores. Bright lights all around the perimeter and in various places inside of the fenced in area made it practically daylight. Half a dozen karts were racing around the far side of the track. The humid air had lost the scent of the ocean, replaced by burnt rubber and gasoline.

Coop took the lead, man-hugging a guy their age that he introduced as Gray. Gray set them both up with helmets and karts, then showed Dom how to run the thing. Seemed simple enough. He got it going and followed Coop out onto the main track. It seemed pretty crash-proof, with bumpers on both the kart and the edges of the track. Wide enough for three karts at a time. 

“Ready, set, go!” Coop said, then hit the gas.

He shot off. Dom jammed his own gas. The kart surprised him with the power of the initial lurch, and he belted out a sound that was half-fear and half-laughter. Once he figured out how to apply pressure, he started to enjoy himself. Coop slowed down so Dom could catch up, and they began a high-speed dance around each other. Dom would lead, then Coop would take over. Every time he caught a glimpse of Coop’s face, Coop was grinning like a fool.

Dom was having a blast, too. They were probably supposed to have a time limit, but they raced around the track for what felt like hours. Dom lost himself in the chase, until Coop signaled that they pull over. Coop’s eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed, and Dom had never seen someone so completely alive from something as simple as go kart racing.

Dom pulled off his helmet, grateful to get the heavy thing off and some air on his face. 

“So what did you think?” Coop asked. He bounced on his feet like an excited puppy.

“It’s killer, man, I loved it.”

“Sad you waited so long to try it?”

“Nah. Then you wouldn’t have been able to pop my cherry.”

Coop’s eyes widened briefly, then he laughed. “Happy to help.”

On their way back to the car, Dom asked, “Anything else you want to do?”

Coop leered at him. “Anything  you want to do?”

Blood started going south, and Dom was glad they’d reached the car because he didn’t want to be walking through a parking lot with a boner. “Dude, your ass better be ready to cash the check your mouth is writing.”

“Oh it’s more than ready.”

Dom unlocked his side, climbed in, then reached across to unlock the other door. “You know a place we can go?”

Coop glanced at Dom’s lap, then licked his lips. “Up the highway there’s an old, overgrown drive-in. Great place for parking.”

“Yeah? Been there a few times?”

“No, but one of my roommates has. She told me about it.”

Dom kind of wanted to call bullshit, but Coop had no reason to lie to him. And who cared if Coop was a total slut or pickier than a vegan in a steakhouse. Dom was getting fucking laid tonight, and he was very, very eager to judge Coop’s cute ass for himself.

He would have totally overshot the entrance to the drive-in if Coop hadn’t pointed out the rusty old sign half-covered by bushes and wisteria vines. There wasn’t really a road anymore, mostly narrow tracks through thick underbrush, as if someone had taken a Hummer and plowed through it all to make a path. Dom kept as much of his attention on the non-road as he could, but Coop decided to distract him by rubbing himself through his shorts. That simple image got Dom’s own dick straining against his already tight jeans. He cranked up the air conditioning, because things were about to get steamy.

The forest finally gave way to a moderately open space that had been mostly overtaken by nature. The remains of a small shack was off to the right, and the remnants of a movie screen were straight ahead, full of holes where it had fallen apart over time. The place had a slasher movie vibe to it that was at once creepy and exciting.

Dom shifted into park, but left the car idling for the air. The last thing he wanted to do was open the windows and end up with mosquito bites all over his ass.

Coop wasted no time curling strong fingers around the back of his neck and hauling him into a kiss. Dom’s surprise fled the instant their mouths clashed. Something electric surged between them, so strong he actually gasped. Coop licked at his parted lips, then slipped his tongue into Dom’s mouth. He tasted like lime and spice and everything nice, and goddamn he knew how to kiss. Dom cupped both sides of Coop’s neck, as much to keep him there as for balance because kissing Coop was a little like falling.

He could have sat there and kissed Coop all night.

Coop pulled away first, his cheeks red and eyes glistening. “Backseat.”

“Yeah.”

Dom was tall and the space between the seats wasn’t huge, so climbing over it had both of them laughing by the time they collapsed on the backseat. Coop tugged his shirt off, revealing a slightly tanned torso, a nice little happy trail, and a tattoo of a Gerbera daisy on his left pec. Defined abs, but not super-cut, which appealed to Dom a lot. Meant Coop wasn’t a gym rat. And he loved that Coop had ink.

Coop tugged at Dom’s shirt, and he let Coop pull it off. Coop’s bright smile was worth the reveal. Dom was crazy proud of the tattoo that spanned across his abdomen. Coop traced a finger over it, and the touch sent goose bumps across Dom’s shoulders. “What’s it represent?” Coop asked.

“An artist friend created it for me. It’s a combination of the national emblem of Italy and the Philippine eagle. My birth mother was from the Philippines, my birth father from Italy.”

“Birth mother?”

Dom nearly slapped himself. “I’m adopted. All of my siblings were adopted by our parents.”

“Oh wow. Have you ever met your birth parents?”

“Nope. No desire to, either. I know and embrace my heritage, yeah, but I also know who my parents are, and they’re the people who raised me.” Dom touched the daisy tattoo on Coop’s chest. “How about this? Special meaning?”

Coop’s smile dimmed. “Someone I loved who died too young.”

“Sorry.”

“It was years ago.” He surprised Dom by swinging his leg over and straddling his lap. 

A hard cock ground into his. Dom tugged Coop into another kiss, his body aware and sparking everywhere they touched—mouths, hands, legs, groins. So good. Dom shoved both hands into Coop’s shorts, past the elastic of his briefs to clasp warm skin. Coop gasped into his mouth. Dom squeezed and kneaded, urging Coop to rock into him. Coop pulled off to lick and nibble his neck.

“Shit,” Dom said when Coop found a sensitive spot. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

Coop straightened, his green eyes so intense in the near-dark. “Tell me you brought stuff.”

“I brought stuff.”

Sunday, December 21, 2014

The Truth As He Knows It: Snippet #2

I've got a new snippet for you from THE TRUTH AS HE KNOWS IT (Perspectives #1). It's from the start of Chapter Three. Noel is out for lunch with his best friend Tristan, and he runs into a familiar face.



Mineo's had been busy every time Noel stopped in, and today was no different. A line of at least six people stood between them and the cash register. You placed your order, paid, took a number, then waited for it to be called, because everything was assembled to order. Besides deli sandwiches and hoagies, they also offered wraps, soups, a variety of personal sized pizzas, and six different kinds of wings.

Noel perused the vast menu board of options, unsure what he was in the mood for. "What are you feeling?"
            
"I don't know. You decide."
            
Tristan seemed genuinely perplexed, and it struck Noel that for the last few years, Tristan ate the food that was put in front of him. He didn't have to make a choice. Noel thought back to college and the things Tristan liked to eat.
           
"How about the turkey club?" Noel said. "You like mayo, right?"
           
"Yes. Okay, that sounds good."
           
"Excellent."
            
By the time they reached the register, Noel had decided on corned beef on rye with mustard. A classic combination. He gave their orders to the girl at the register, plus two large sodas they could fill at the dispenser. She slid his debit card through the machine.
            
A dark head of hair slipped past behind the counter, the owner wearing a blue Mineo's apron. He sidled up to a sandwich station, then grabbed two red baskets. Lined them with waxed paper. Noel stared, willing the man to turn around. He took his debit card by rote, then his order number the same way.
            
Reaching for a bag of rye bread, the man in the apron showed his profile, and surprise sent Noel's heart racing. Shane. The stripper from the party. Shane turned back to his sandwich making quickly, but Noel had seen him.
            
Tristan touched his elbow, cluing Noel into his holding up the line. They filled their soda cups, then found a table as close to the service counter as possible. Noel sat facing it. He couldn't explain his newfound fascination with Shane. He hadn't honestly expected to see the man again, assuming that no one would strip at a party in a town they lived in. Assuming, again, that Shane lived in Stratton. Which was a logical assumption, since he worked at Mineo's.
            
So many assumptions when the object of his interest was assembling his lunch less than ten feet away.
            
And Tristan, bless him, noticed. "Do you know him? Do I know him?"
           
"No, you don't know him." Noel tried not to stare. "I barely know him. We crossed paths the other night."
            
"He's cute."
            
"And probably taken by an equally cute girl."
            
Tristan angled himself to study Shane, his sharp gaze so like his old self when they'd go out looking for action. "Dunno about that. I'd lay odds he swings our way."
            
"Based on what?"
            
"Instinct." He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. "You know my gaydar has always been better than yours."
            
True.
            
"Number four-oh-six!" Shane's shouting voice made Noel jump. He glanced down at their order number: 406.
            
Noel stood to fetch their order. Shane had the tray in his hands. His eyes widened briefly when he saw Noel, startled. Trapped. He blushed, then dropped his gaze to the tray. The two feet between them suddenly felt like a chasm. Noel took their food without a word, unwilling to speak up and embarrass Shane further.
            
"Okay, I don't know how you know him, but that was kind of awkward," Tristan said when Noel sat back down. "You two hook up or something?"
            
"No, nothing like that." He couldn't make himself tell Tristan about Shane. The entire situation was too personal—not for himself, so much as it was for Shane. Noel could read people pretty well, and he'd seen the shame in Shane's eyes. The fear of people knowing too much.
            
Lunch passed pleasantly enough with inane chatter. Noel didn't see anyone he really knew. He'd lived in Stratton for about two years, but his overnight shifts left little actual interaction with the town, and he wasn't a social butterfly. The few friends he had were fellow officers, including his weekly workout buddy, and that was okay with Noel.
            
He couldn't help a few more glances at Shane. Even though he'd seen the man practically naked, he was just as stunningly handsome in a polo and khakis. He worked with the precision of someone with years of practice, reaching for ingredients almost blindly. Noel found himself insanely curious why Shane made sandwiches by day and played stripper by night.

            
It wasn't the time or place to ask.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Sexy Snippet: The Truth As He Knows It



Over on Twitter, I promised that if I made it to 400 followers by Saturday that I would post a sexy snippet from my upcoming release, THE TRUTH AS HE KNOWS IT. I am so freaking excited for this new book and new series. I really think you guys are going to fall in love with Noel, Shane, Tristan, and their friends. Especially Tristan.

So Happy Halloween, and enjoy the start of Shane and Noel's first date.

(Warning: adult language ahead.)

#*#


Blood pulsed into Noel’s cock. He couldn’t stop his hard-on now if he tried, and the khaki shorts he’d picked out weren’t going to hide it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Shane’s gaze dropped below Noel’s belt, and his feral smile went absolutely lustful. “If it’s about that, then the answer is yes.”

A rumble of nervous laughter cut off Noel’s question. “It’s tangentially related.”

“Oh?”

“Are you out?”

Shane’s eyebrows jumped. “Yes. I mean, I don’t run around advertising it, but I don’t lie if someone asks. My brother knows, and so do my coworkers. The important people. Are you?”

“No.”

“But you are gay?”

“Yes, I’m gay. I just…it’s hard being a gay cop, and I’m still pretty young. Still finding my feet and my place in the department.”

“There’s already a gay cop on the force.”

“Yeah, but he’s like a decade older with a lot more experience. And rumor is he played football in college. No one’s going to give him shit about it.”

“You’re afraid they’ll give you shit.” Not even a question.

The statement of fact made Noel’s arousal dim a bit. “Yes, I am. I’ve been bullied before.”

Something in Shane’s gaze shuttered. “I get that, and I don’t want to out you, Noel.”

“What is you do want?”

Shane’s nostrils flared. He took three long strides that put him right in Noel’s personal space, and Noel fought to stay still when instinct suggested he take a step backward. Shane’s right hand landed softly on his hip. Suddenly having Shane in his home didn’t seem so strange after all. It felt absolutely right.

“I want the same thing you want,” Shane whispered, silky seduction in his voice. “To find out what you taste like.”

Noel’s heart skipped. “I know what I taste like.”

Shane’s lips twitched. “Let me rephrase then. I want to know—”

Noel gave him what he wanted. He had no intent with the kiss, other than the action itself. Grabbing Shane and hauling his hard, lean body close, hips to hips, had the added benefit of allowing Noel to wrap his hand around the back of Shane’s neck. No softness. No exploration. Only two mouths demanding inside the other, and goddamn Shane tasted good. Mint and spice and everything nice.

Shane thrust his tongue into his mouth, licking, exploring, while hands plucked at Noel’s waistband. Beneath. Cool fingers met skin, and Noel shivered. His cock pulsed with want, and while he hadn’t expected their date to start with sex—end with, hell yes—he wasn’t going to say no to eating dessert before dinner. Shane directed him backward a few steps, and then Noel’s back hit the wall. Shane crowded into him, surrounding him, their hard cocks pressed close together. Noel rocked his hips, the friction sending happy signals to all nerve endings. Shane bit his lower lip.


Noel made a helpless, needy noise, because he fucking loved that, so Shane bit again. Noel tugged Shane’s head to the side and attacked his neck, licking and tasting the smooth skin that still smelled vaguely of shaving cream. Shane sighed, fingers digging into Noel’s hips, until Noel found a spot low on his neck that made Shane gasp. He played with that spot, teasing it with his lips and tongue, enjoying the various sounds Shane made. The way Shane thrust his hips, rubbing their cocks together, and there were too damned many clothes in the way.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Snippet: Stand By You


Since this book that I love so much is coming out in less than two months, I wanted to share a bit with you guys. This scene is the start of chapter five. Brendan has offered to help Romy get into better physical shape, and they're going to Brendan's place for their first workout session.

#*#

Brendan didn’t even have to ring the door buzzer Friday morning. Romy was sitting on the stoop outside waiting for him when he pulled up by the curb, left leg bouncing up and down. He practically leapt off the step, dressed in a too-big wife-beater and baggy gym shorts cinched up as tight as he could get them.
Borrowed clothes. Brendan hadn’t even thought about that when he asked Romy to work out with him—that Romy had nothing except what Ezra and Donner bought for him. Romy’d probably had to ask for another favor.
Crap on a cracker, Brendan had already messed up.
“Hey, Roe,” Brendan said when the passenger door opened up.
“Hey.” Romy slid into the passenger seat. His leg started bouncing again once he buckled his seatbelt. He didn’t look nervous. Kind of curious, maybe. “So where do you live, anyway? I never did ask.”
No reason he should have asked. Brendan pulled back onto the street. “East of 95, near Brandywine.”
“Okay.”
The even response told him nothing. Maybe Romy wasn’t as familiar with Wilmington’s neighborhoods as he should be, or he’d know they weren’t heading to the best area. Affordable, yeah, but every night somebody was out on the streets selling crack, H, meth, and/or sex. No one pestered Brendan. He was sure to make nice with his neighbors, and the one time a dealer didn’t take no for an answer, Brendan broke his nose.
Message received.
“Is it far?” Romy asked.
“Ten minutes, I guess. Depends on traffic.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t know the city good, do you?”
Romy shrugged, attention going everywhere as he took in their route. “I mostly take the bus when I have to go someplace. I’ve never owned a car. Hell, I don’t even have a driver’s license.”
“You don’t? At twenty-two?”
“So?”
“Just askin’. Lotta city folks don’t get a driver’s license, not if you can walk all places or use public trans.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone would call Wilmington a city. Not compared to Philly or New York. Trust me, I’ve lived there.”
The personal information—tidbits he hadn’t previously known—tweaked Brendan’s curiosity. “How’d you get from there to here?”
“Bus tickets.”
Sounded like code for I don’t want to talk about it.
He searched for a less invasive conversation topic. “You done any weight training before?”
Romy snickered. “Hell, no.” He flashed wide black eyes at Brendan. “We’re lifting weights?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“No, I guess I thought working out meant, like, jumping jacks and stuff.”
“Nah, that’s crap exercise. Weights are good for you. You run?”
“Only if I’m being chased.”
The flirty way Romy said that made him chuckle. “Running is good cardio. Good for everything.”
Romy hunched down in his seat. “Are we running today?”
“Nah, not today. Some day when we got more time.”
“Oh joy.” He rolled his eyes.
Brendan smiled. “It’s hard at first. Once your legs get used to it and your lungs are trained, it feels great.”
“Ezra runs. He says it’s one of his favorite things.”
They’d made it five whole minutes without a mention of the bottle-blond object of Romy’s crush. “He ever take you running?”
“No. There’s no time. Since he fell head-first into the café, I don’t think he’s managed more than once a week. He likes running out by the Brandywine River.”
“I usually go to the indoor track at my gym. Better in summer. Not so sweaty. Even ground is better on my knee.”
“Right.”
The closer they got to Brendan’s neighborhood, the more jumpy Romy got. His left leg was thumping on the floorboard like crazy, and both hands were twisting around each other in his lap. He was way out of his comfort zone. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Usually a funny text would distract Romy, calm him down. He couldn’t text and drive—even if it wasn’t against the law, he wasn’t good at it, and the last thing he wanted was to crash them both into the guardrail. New plan. Brendan reached out. Squeezed Romy’s left knee with his hand. The movement stopped instantly. Even his hands stilled. He glanced at Romy, who was looking at Brendan’s hand. All dark chocolate on Romy’s pale skin.
How about that? It worked.
“Nothing’s gonna happen out here,” Brendan said. “People know me. They won’t mess with us, okay?”
Romy’s left hand snaked out and landed on top of Brendan’s, a warm weight he really liked. “Thanks, Bren. I’m kind of a basket case most days.”
“Nah. You’re feelin’ your way through, is all. It’ll get better.”
“What will?” Something in Romy’s expression went dark, stormy. “My anxiety? The nightmares? The fact that I’m a big fucking failure in life?”
Those words punched Brendan in the chest. Romy thought he was a failure? No way. Not a chance. And nightmares? Anyone who’d been through what Romy survived would have nightmares, but this long after? Hell. The anger swirling in his gut made him want to beat the shit out of Carlos.
Again.
He pulled his hand off Romy’s knee, because his fingers were itching to make a fist and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Romy. Not even by accident. He clutched the wheel with both hands and glared at the taillights of the car ahead of him on the road.
Twenty-two. Romy was too damned young to feel so old. To think he’d already failed. Brendan had blown out his knee at twenty, wallowed in misery at twenty-one, and by twenty-two he’d met Jake Street and gotten his first post-injury job as a restaurant dishwasher. Maybe he’d never moved in with a sadistic asshole who beat him every night for fun and sexual thrills, but Brendan could sympathize with hitting bottom and clawing his way back out.
Romy had a lot of life left to live.
“You aren’t a failure.” He turned onto his street. “No way.”
“I’m not?” Romy made a distressed noise. “I can’t even be driven across town without freaking out. I’ve never had a job before that didn’t involve hand or blow, and I have zero idea what I want other than to never, ever fall for a guy who will hurt other people. Not again.”
Brendan’s hands went tight around the wheel, and the leather creaked. Hell. Brendan had been in more fights than he could count. He’d loved tackling another guy to the ground during football, whether game or practice. He had gloried in beating the shit out of Carlos for what he’d done to Romy—a fact he’d never told Romy. Sure, everyone knew that somebody handed the bastard his ass not long after Romy’s rescue, but Carlos had never reported him.
He’d wanted to tell Romy so many times, but he never wanted Romy afraid of him, not for any reason. He would never look at Brendan the same again if he found out.
His mind raced for something else to say. Something positive. “You made the phone call, Roe. You had enough and you called for help. That’s brave.”
“That was desperate. I was scared he—” Romy’s mouth snapped shut. His hands started twisting around each other.
Brendan parked in an empty space near his building, then let the engine idle so they’d have air. Romy hadn’t finished the thought, and Brendan really wanted to know what Carlos had done to push him over the edge. When he, Donner and Ezra had found Romy, he had been dehydrated, underfed, bruised, naked and bleeding from his rectum. Romy had refused to be taken to the hospital, and it had taken every ounce of Brendan’s self-control to not storm back to Carlos’s place and kill him where he stood.
Romy had been so fragile, so desperate for safety and love, that Brendan had stayed until it was necessary to leave. He hadn’t understood what compelled him to want to protect a boy he’d just met—only that Romy needed strength and that he had plenty to spare.
Two days later he’d gone and handed Carlos his ass.
Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t matter why you did it,” Brendan said. “Only that you did. And now you’re safe, ̓kay?”

Romy swallowed hard, his black eyes a little too shiny. “Okay.”

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Snippet: Maybe This Time

I can't believe I can finally say MAYBE THIS TIME comes out next month! I've been saying it for a while, but I really do love this book and I can't wait for Donner and Ezra to get their chance to shine. So I'm posting a little snippet to tide you over until July 21.

@*@*@

Donner tried to pay attention to too many things at once—two drink orders, three other bartenders and the conversation happening between Ezra and Tag. The sight of Tag approaching Ezra had sent a buzz of something through his bloodstream. Annoyance, maybe, or protectiveness. He wasn’t sure. His nerves didn’t settle until Tag moved away, leaving Ezra alone with his drink. Ezra didn’t look upset, so Donner pushed the whole encounter aside and concentrated on his job.
He couldn’t explain his overt interest in Ezra, beyond physical attraction and an itch that hadn’t been scratched in too long. Donner usually went for older tops when he wanted to be fucked well, but Ezra had a good reputation among his conquests. Maybe a change of pace would do him good.
If Ezra stayed unattached until closing time, which wasn’t likely given the glances being thrown his way.
Donner ignored a slight pang of jealousy and reached for a clean shaker to make another round of Cosmos.
The second time Ezra came to the bar, he ordered only one drink. “So do you ever take a break?”
“Yeah, I get one.” Donner poured tequila, unable to explain why he liked that Ezra wasn’t also buying a drink for someone else.
“When?”
He glanced at the clock behind the bar. He’d been on shift for about three hours. “Anytime.”
“We’re going to grab a booth and order some loaded nachos in a bit. Join us.” Ezra phrased it as a gentle order, not a question.
Donner grinned. “I may do that.”

“Oh, sugar, that wasn’t a request.”