Friday, April 29, 2016

Release Me by Faith Gibson - Pre-Order Blitz with Giveaway

Title: Release Me
Author: Faith Gibson
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: April 30, 2016

Fifteen Years…
For fifteen years, Cade Anderson, drummer for the world-famous rock band 7’s Mistress, has been in love with his best friend, the band’s lead singer. Even though it’s been years since they were lovers, Cade still wants the man. When his best friend falls in love with someone else, life as Cade knows it is over. The band breaks up and Cade has to figure out how to move on.
Ten Years…
For ten years, Mal Wilson has hidden who he really is from the small-minded people of Arlo, Kentucky. The family farm is dwindling down to nothing, and the bar he owns is draining him dry. When it looks like he’s going to lose both, Mal has to figure out where to go from here.
Three Months…
For three months, Cade has been drinking and f*cking his way across the country, trying to forget about his former friend and lover. When he finds himself at a redneck joint in the middle of nowhere, he is drawn to the handsome roughneck tending bar. Something in the man stirs Cade for the first time in years.
One Night…
When Mal ends up in a hotel room with the handsome blond man who sat in his bar for hours, the man asks for one night together. When Mal wakes up, he knows that one night will never be enough, but it has to be.
Two men…
One musician, rich and famous, out and proud of his sexuality. One cowboy, poor as the dirt under his boots, hiding who he is from the world. It’ll never work. Or will it?

“Faith is an amazing author!!! This is not the first book I've read by this author and certainly will not be the last.” ~Ashley (Goodreads Review)
“I really loved this book! It was so much more than I ever dreamed it would be! I love opposites attract book and this one was perfect!!” ~Melissa at Alpha Book Club

The Neurotic Prophets were finishing up their encore, and it was almost time for Cade to take his seat. Never had he been more nervous playing a show than he was tonight. Mal had heard him play guitar and piano and knew how he sounded when he sang. But this was Cade in his element. Cade baring his soul to the world. Mal would probably never see this again, and Cade wanted it to be perfect.
Finally, the sets were swapped out, and it was time. Cade inserted his ear monitors and adjusted the box on the back of his jeans. The guys huddled as they did before every show and wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders. No words were said; they allowed their combined adrenaline to seep into the person next to him. Reed released his arms first as always, and Cade walked over and took his place behind his massive drum kit. Mal was somewhere in the crowd. Since the floor was standing room general admission, he could be anywhere. Or nowhere. Cade cleared his mind of Mal, and set up the beat for the first song as the others made their way to the stage. 
Time crawled, yet at the same time, it flew by. As the band stood on stage after their encore, Cade tossed sticks into the crowd. He didn’t try to find Mal or Bryan in the sea of bodies clambering for a souvenir. He waved at no one in particular and headed to the side of the stage. The men walked to their dressing rooms together with their body guards. Too many crazy fans were able to slip by unnoticed no matter how good security was. Before Cade stepped into the room Carl had secured for him to use privately, he told Reed, “You’re probably not going to see me at the after party.”
“No problem. We’ve all had those nights,” he responded and cupped Cade behind his head. “You do what you have to do.”
Carl opened the door for Cade, and he was immediately accosted by an excited Bryan. “Man, what a fucking show! You were phenomenal. And your drum solo? Oh my god! How do you play for that long without needing a break? Seriously, that was the shit!” 
Cade couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s excitement. He considered both Bryan and Andy friends. They had kept in contact these last few weeks even if they wouldn’t elaborate on Mal’s well-being too much. Cade grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck. “Practice, my man. Lots of practice and gym time. How are you?” Cade asked. He turned toward the sofa in search of the cooler he kept full of Gatorade for after the show. Mal was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. 
Cade couldn’t move. Mal was even more handsome than he remembered. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who took extra care with his looks for this moment. Mal’s normally smooth face was scruffy, like he intentionally forgot to shave for a couple of days. His dark hair was cropped close on the sides but longer than it had been on top. His jeans gripped those slim hips snugly, and his Divining the Dark t-shirt stretched taut over his chest and biceps. Cade was pretty sure he was drooling. Mal was picture perfect and would put any cover model to shame. If he’d really wanted to be tormented, Cade would’ve asked him to turn around so he could get a good look at his ass. There was something about his cowboy in a pair of Wranglers.
When he raised his eyes to Mal’s face, the blue orbs staring back at him took him by surprise. This wasn’t a man who looked like he was going to break things off. Mal looked like he was ready to drop to his knees and blow Cade. He looked around to make sure Roarke was nowhere near, and it was then he noticed Bryan and Carl had left the room. 
Mal found his voice first and said, “Hi.”
That one word just about knocked Cade to his knees. It was music to his soul. His soul that was soon to be crushed.
“Hi,” he croaked. Cade cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi, Mal. You look good.”
Mal pushed off the wall, and before Cade knew what was happening, Mal had his neck in a vice grip and was crashing their mouths together. Surprise had Cade gasping, and Mal took advantage of the opening to slide his tongue home. Home.

Faith Gibson lives outside Nashville, Tennessee with the love of her life, and her two-legged best friends. She began writing in high school and over the years, penned many stories and poems. When her dreams continued to get crazier than the one before, she decided to keep a dream journal. Many of these night-time escapades have led to a line, a chapter, and even a complete story.
When asked what her purpose in life is, she will say to entertain the masses. Even if it’s one person at a time. When Faith isn’t hard at work on her next story, she can be found playing trivia while enjoying craft beer, reading, or riding her Harley.


Lime & Tangerine by Kevin Caucher - Blog Tour


The post-apocalyptic world has changed. Colors have changed.
The skies are now red, and the seas fandango pink.
There are those who’ve acquired skills as “squinters”. By narrowing their eyes, they can see people in different colors—colors by which they can define their mood.
Senlin was born a squinter. A child of the foster system, the lack of love  has left him with casual views on sex.
When Sicong recruits him into SQX, a squinter organization, Senlin wants nothing more than to jump his bones, but Sicong’s detachment makes Senlin believe his feelings aren’t reciprocated.
Senlin and Sicong’s relationship begins to grow as they undertake missions together.
That is, until an enemy of SQX turns his attention upon them.

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FROM THE SNIPPETS I’d heard from the different families I’d stayed with over the years—not that they’d ever cared to share much—a couple of generations ago, due to a steel shortage, most industries started to wane. It was said that it came down to such a degree that all the seeming essentials in life were erased. I was skeptical of that, because as far as I’d noticed, electricity, water, even televisions and cars were still in existence. However, one thing I’d heard from the grandparents of the families was that skies used to be blue instead of cardinal red, trees green and brown instead of khaki or teal, and seas usually blue as well, instead of fandango. The granny who’d told me this said that everything had changed color after the industrialization breakdown; she’d experienced it herself. I believed her, because she was the only one who took the time to speak to me in my youth. Truth be told, though, however dramatic the color change was for her, since I’d lived with the new colors all my years, it didn’t affect me at all. As for other aspects of life, even she said that seventy years after the breakdown, they now were similar to before.
I did, however, know something that might be related to the breakdown. I’d always been afraid to squint when I was young, because whenever I did, all the people I saw changed into different colors. Some were brown, some red, and occasionally some pink. It seemed a bit funny. I didn’t know what that meant. In order not to get confused, I stopped altogether. I’d thought I was just weird that way, until I heard the story about the breakdown. Now I loved to squint. Though I’d yet to learn what colors meant, I did discover how the color change could be useful.
I worked in a pub, Tingo; not that the pub knew about my business. I was a “part time drug dealer”, with part time meaning I helped drug dealers determine who in the pub was in need and from whom the dealers needed to stay away. I never did drugs myself, but I helped out when I was in need of cash. The job was easy. I’d squint my eyes and those in orange would be the ones to approach, instead of those rare yellow ones. It worked every time. From what I’ve heard, many of those yellow ones were undercover cops. The dealers often got caught when I didn’t help.
Away from the occasional “helping-out” in the pub, my real interest there was actually the cute guys. I got great satisfaction from looking at all the hot men, talking to them, and consequently taking them to bed. It wasn’t always easy, as one would know, but it was so much simpler with my “special ability”. My prey would also be orange when I squinted, but a less reddish shade, more like tangerine. When I spotted one I liked, I’d squint my eyes and whisper to myself, and almost to him, “You want to come home with me.” In no more than ten minutes, the man I wanted would magically come to buy me a drink, and we’d later end up at his place or mine, doing what I loved. That, again, worked every time.

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About the author

Growing up in China, KEVIN CAUCHER never thought he’d grow up loving to write; never did he expect himself ending up in Australia either. He is now happily partnered in NSW Illawarra area and writing.
Kevin’s writing is mainly influenced by his growing up as a gay Chinese; he also sometimes pops out totally random stories that has nothing to do with his growing up.
Besides his passion for writing, Kevin has also opened a cafe in December 2015. “There, the cliché of authors writing in a cafe.”

KEVIN CAUCHER can be found at:

On The Outside by Louise Lyon - Book Blast with Giveaway

Author Name: Louise Lyons

Book Name: On The Outside
Publisher: Louise Lyons
Cover Artist: Simon Searle

Release Date: April 30, 2016


When Craig Ferguson is released from prison after a year’s sentence for fighting, he returns home to his father and brother, and the family business. Throwing himself back into the life he left, with family, work, and women, Craig tries to forget his time on the inside, but there’s one thing he just can’t get out of his mind.

Cell mate, Rocky Kirk, still has six months of his sentence to go, and after a year together in a tiny cell, Craig misses him more than he cares to admit. He does his best to forget, but when Rocky is released, and arrives on Craig’s doorstep, homeless and hurt, everything that happened between them comes flooding back.

Craig’s family takes in Rocky, now known as Kirk, and gives him a home and a job, but he’s reluctant to join in with their partying, and never seems entirely comfortable in their home. A few months later Kirk announces he has to leave, and when Craig presses him for an explanation, Kirk blurts out that his unwanted feelings for his friend are hurting him too much to stay. His admission changes everything, but Craig’s uncertainty, and fears of his father discovering their secret, threatens to ruin anything that could develop between them.

Pages or Words: 34,000 words

Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance


I turned away from him, barged past Dad, and took the stairs two at a time. The bathroom door shook in its frame when I kicked it shut behind me. My temper rapidly subsided, and I risked a peek at myself in the mirror above the sink. The color in my face faded, leaving me pale and wild-eyed, breathing hard. What the hell just happened?

I replayed the scene in my head, starting with the almost-kiss between Stuart and Catherine. Was there something between them? Was it really nothing? Was I pissed off because she was supposed to be dating me, or was I actually hurt? I didn't feel hurt. It didn't seem that important anymore. She probably wouldn't want to see me again after my outburst and I wasn't convinced I minded all that much. What the fuck did that say about us? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was only angry with myself, mostly because when I’d finally got what I wanted, I didn’t want it that much anymore.

"Craig?" A gentle tap came on the door. Kirk.

My rapid heartrate escalated, and I scowled at my reflection. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, that hand needs looking at."

Sighing, I sat on the edge of the bath. "Come in."

Kirk slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just fucking brilliant."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"You know what I mean. Do you think there's anything going on with her and Stuart?"

"How the fuck should I know? It looked like it, didn't it?" I shrugged and blew my breath out hard. "I don't fucking care anyway."

"I thought you liked her."

"Yeah, well. Maybe I should have stuck with the one-nighters."

"You don't mean that. I thought you wanted a relationship."

"I don't wanna talk about it." I didn’t want to think about it anymore either. My hand stung like a bastard, and I noticed for the first time that blood was dripping all over the tiles under my feet. Before I could move, Kirk grabbed a folded towel, placed it on my knee and laid my hand on it, palm down.

"There's a lot of glass in there."

"You reckon you can get it out?"

"I'll try." He found tweezers and tissues in the bathroom cabinet, and dropped to his knees at my feet. Some of the droplets of blood soaked into his jeans and I grimaced.

"You're getting blood on you."

"It'll wash." He dabbed carefully at the back of my hand, and the tissues turned red. "This looks bad. You might need stitches."

"I'll be all right." I clenched my teeth as he plucked out the first glass splinter and looked around for somewhere to put it. I reached for Dad's can of shaving foam and flipped off the lid. "Put them in there."

Kirk dropped each tiny piece of glass into the lid, and I counted eighteen pieces before Dad spoke from outside the door.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No. Thanks. Kirk's fixing it."

"Right. Good." His feet thudded on the stairs as he returned to the football match.

"I'm missing the match."

Kirk looked up at me and grinned, his brown eyes twinkling. "You'd rather bleed to death than miss the football?"

"Yeah, probably."

"I think I got it all."


"The glass. I think I got it all out." I dropped my gaze as he dabbed at the myriad tiny wounds with the wad of tissue. "Does it feel like there's anything still in there?"


"I think I saw some bandages in the cabinet." Kirk got up and rifled through the cupboard. I stayed where I was until he kneeled down again and placed a dressing on the back of my hand. "Hold that there a minute."

"Were you a paramedic in a previous life?"

"I did a first aid course a few years ago. I can remember most of it." He wrapped a bandage around my hand, binding the dressing in place and making a surprisingly neat job of it. When it was done he stayed where he was, and I realized he was holding my bandaged hand in both of his and stroking my palm with one thumb. A few strands of hair had escaped the knot on the back of his head, and I had a sudden urge to tuck them behind his ear. I held my breath, staring at the top of his bent head. The only sound in the room was his breathing, and the intermittent drip from the bath tap that had needed fixing for a while.

"Thanks." The word came out croaky, my mouth so dry I could barely speak at all.

"No problem." Kirk jerked away, dropping my hand as if it had burnt him. Snatching up the wad of tissues, he tossed them into the toilet, and used the bloody towel to mop the floor. I stayed where I was until he opened the door and left me alone. His bedroom door opened and closed, and I made my way downstairs. I felt less concerned about my likely imminent break-up with Catherine, than I was about the moment in the bathroom.

What the hell happened? Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Did he still think about what happened between us and try not to? Jerk off and try not to remember me fucking him? Did he feel anything when he held my hand and stroked my palm, then jumped away? Jesus Christ. My heart hammered, and this time when I told myself it didn’t mean anything, and that I just kept remembering the person I’d been close to on the inside, it didn’t work.

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Meet the author:

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy. Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of eight, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties.

Posting stories based on some of her favorite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races into the house afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and joy, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

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Rafflecopter Prize: eBook from Louise’s backlist, plus a $5 Amazon gift card

The Spider's Web by Sophia Beaumont - Book Blast with Giveaway

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Author: Sophia Beaumont
Title: The Spider’s Web
Publisher: Torquere Press
Cover Artist: Kris Norris
Release Date: May 4, 2016
Heat Level: 1
Pairing: m/f
Length: 59,000 words
Genres/Tags: Contemporary, Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

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After being released from a Toronto psych ward, Evie decides that her life needs a drastic change. Moving 500 miles east to stay with her aunt in Montreal, however, is not turning out as expected. Though she loves the city, she can’t outrun the problems that drove her to the edge in the first place. Recovery might be a little easier if not for Micha. Handsome, kind, always willing to help Evie or cheer her on--and completely invisible to everyone else. He seems to think he’s some kind of guardian angel, and she might need one now that things have gone from bad to just plain weird. It started with the spiders--ghostly spiders that showed up out of nowhere, swarming over Evie while she was home alone. Then the owls started following her. Her search of answers dredges up past lives, secret societies, and one very angry goddess. She’s going to need help from some very powerful friends if she wants to make it to her next birthday, but when one of those friends is the goddess of the underworld, she might need more help than a guardian angel can provide.


The shawl was nearby. Practically laying on the ground, I reached out a hand for it. The girls were too busy kneeling in rapture. The gathering had taken on a feeling of a tent revival, except instead of healing the sick they were planning on turning me into bar-b-que. Kelly's eyes had taken on the same ethereal glow as those of the owls; she was beyond the cares of the mortal world. Whatever she was doing, it seemed to be having an effect.

I threw the shawl. It hit Kelly full in the face. She stumbled, her words becoming incoherent as she tried to pull it off, but it clung there like a wet towel and wouldn't let go, tangling into her short hair and catching on the sequined collar of her dress.

In the split second distraction, I rolled away from the initiates and barreled through the women behind us, knocking them down by crashing my shoulder into their knees and hips. They were packed so closely that where one went down, another two would follow.

I came up sprinting, diving for the elevator with them hot on my heels. I slammed my hand against the button, but the door didn't open. There was no way that I'd be able to wait for it come up from the lobby, but there were no stairs that I could see from this side of the cafe.

Miraculously, Kelly was still trapped in the shawl, the knitting forming a net that covered her from head to toe.

I thought of my torn poncho, and the things that Kelly had said about my former incarnations powers.
I don't know how I did it, but the next thing that I knew the green and white awning had collapsed, trapping half of them in a makeshift net. I was so close to the wall that I was barely spared injury.

The elevator door dinged open behind me. I dove inside. As soon as the door shut, I ripped off my heels. When it reached the first floor, I bolted out the door barefoot, ignoring the stares of the people around me, pushing past shocked tourists and horrified locals.

I ran straight into traffic as I shot down the street, narrowly missing being run over by a bus. I was certain that the owls were overhead, tracking my every move. I had to get off of the street.

Places d'Armes Metro station. I was through the doors and taking the escalator two steps at a time down to the platforms.

They knew where I lived. They'd found me there before, and their creepy spiders--their legion--had been in the house.

The train pulled up as I careened onto the platform. I skidded to a halt, catching myself on one of the poles inside. I collapsed into one of the hard plastic orange seats. I had the car to myself. I covered my face, trying to catch my breath and figure out what my next move would be.


The air beside me cooled noticeably, drawing goosebumps on my skin. He knelt in front of me and took my hand.

"What do I do?" I asked. I was tapped out. My mind had stopped working, drawing a blank.

"I need a safe place. But where can I go?"

The only other person that I knew, that I trusted in the city, was Adam. I didn't want to put him in danger, but I didn't know what else to do.

I got off at my usual stop, but walked down to his building, just two streets over. One of the lights in the upstairs windows was still lit and from the backyard I could hear what sounded like another party. 

I knocked on the front door. No one answered.

Peering around back, I saw that I was right. Probably twenty people were gathered in what appeared to be an impromptu end-of-the-year bash. Strings of lights were hanging from the trees. Beer bottles were all over, coolers open to the night air. I hid in shadow for several moments, watching, until I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was only a beetle, but for a second I thought it was a spider and nearly panicked.

Adam appeared on the back deck, beer in hand, peering at me over the railing. I saw him and nearly broke down. "Evie! Are you alright? I thought-"

"I tried to come here, first, but he didn't understand me," Micha said.

"It's okay." I squeezed his hand.

Adam came down the steps and lead me towards the back door. "Inside. Come on." He ushered me in without so much as a word to the party goers.

"Come on. Up here." He pulled me into what I assumed was his bedroom. Closet sized, with posters from comic book movies on the walls and an old Mac desktop in the corner, and a tv propped up on milk crates housing DVDs and video game cases.

He sat me down on his bed. As soon as the door was closed I started to cry. I bawled. I don't know for how long. Adam knelt beside me and put his arms around me. I was shaking. When I could breath enough to speak coherently again, I spilled out the story of the evening and how it had all gone terribly wrong. Adam stared at me, wide-eyed in complete disbelief. I don't think he would have taken me seriously at all if not for his power.

"Don't worry," he said. "Just...don't worry for right now."

He laid me down, stroking my hair. "Just relax. It'll be fine. They won't find you here," he said.
I felt my muscles relax. My mind was still worried, but it was distant.

My eyes drooped. He covered me with his blanket. "We'll talk in the morning. We'll get this figured out."

That was the last thing that I remember..


Torquere Press

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Meet the Author

Author and designer Sophia Beaumont has long dreamed of faraway places, both real and imagined. She writes from her home in Ohio and hopes to one day live somewhere with a palm tree in the front yard.

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Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy of The Spider's Web 

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Thursday, April 28, 2016

A Mended Man by Jaime Reese - Release Day Blitz

Title: A Mended Man
Series: The Men of Halfway House #4
Author: Jaime Reese
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 28, 2016 Photographer: wagnerLA Photography
Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Detective Aidan Calloway is rock-solid strong. He's a man of justice—loyal to his friends, family, and job—even if it requires bending a law…or two. He shields himself behind an abrasive, fearless facade, until a phone call one night chips his armor and throws his perfectly planned, hollow life into a tailspin.
Jessie Vega is the epitome of optimism. His carefully crafted attitude of hope and positivity protects him from a past filled with too much pain. When a ghost from a dark time resurfaces and nearly breaks him, he must tap into his inner strength or risk losing everything he's worked so hard to build.
But Jessie can't do it alone. He must fight to break through Aidan's ironclad defenses to reveal the heart of the man hiding beneath the tough surface and mend his damaged spirit. Only then can they truly heal and become strong enough to battle the demons that haunt them and threaten their chance to finally be together.
***This book contains scenes and subject matter some readers may find distressing.***

Although part of a series, this book can be read as a stand-alone.

“This book is wonderful and beautifully worded. Jessie has a gift with words.” - Reader Review 
“This story is not only an emotional roller coaster but it is full of action and mystery as well. There are several different stories all coming to a proverbial head in this book, and the outcome is excellent.” - Alpha Book Club
(This is taken from a scene between Aidan and Jessie.)

"You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when it comes to you. No."
"Jess, I'm not easy. I have more baggage than the underbelly of a cargo plane."
"Then I'll set my bags right next to yours."
He shook his head. No one had ever been this relentless to be with his miserable ass.
"I've got one last question for you," Jessie said.
Aidan turned his head slightly toward him but refused to make eye contact.
"Do you…" Jessie hesitated and rubbed his hands on his thighs again, revealing a hint of that introverted, vulnerable side others usually saw when they looked at him. "Do you want to be with me?"

Point-blank. That was the million-dollar question that determined how this conversation would end. Even if he did have enough energy to erect his shield, he couldn't lie to Jessie. He exhaled heavily. "More than anything."

"Then that settles it."

"Jess…it's not that easy."
"Don't make it harder."
Aidan sighed. "I'm not used to this," he said, gesturing between them with his hand.

"Talking or having a relationship?"
"Either. Both. Fuck if I know."
"Okay. Well, you've never had a problem talking to me before, so we'll work up to the big stuff. One detail a week. I'm not going to stress you out with a one-a-day quota. One detail we wouldn't share with anyone else."
One a week. Aidan forcefully rubbed his hands together. He could handle that. Maybe. Sorta.
"And as far as the whole relationship thing, I'm not an expert. But, we kinda already have something. Don't you think?" Jessie looked over to him with a hint of a smile playing in his expression, cocking his head.
He definitely wasn't an expert in relationships, but if Jessie thought this defined a relationship, then maybe he could totally handle this.
Jessie bumped his shoulder. "We're just missing out on all the fun stuff."
Aidan groaned. It drove him nuts when Jessie teased him.
"I'm not saying it'll be easy. I know…" Jessie hesitated and rubbed his thighs again. "I know we're both very different from each other and from what other people usually see when they look at us. But…I see you, not the guy you want everyone else to see. And you're worth it, Aidan. It bothers me that you don't recognize how amazing you are, but I'm willing to give this a shot. I just…I hope you think the same of me." He quieted for a few moments then subtly nodded, concluding some internal conversation. "You work at things so you can appreciate the success at the end."
Aidan shook his head and scoffed. Jessie and his inspirational poster lines…too fucking cute to deny. His ability to take a mountain and turn it into a few pellets of dust always amazed Aidan. Jessie was bossier than people could imagine and far more of a control freak than anyone suspected.
"You're totally worth it."

Jaime Reese is the alter ego of an artist who loves the creative process of writing, just not about herself. Fiction is far more interesting. She has a weakness for broken, misunderstood heroes and feels everyone deserves a chance at love and life. An avid fan of a happy ending, she believes those endings acquired with a little difficulty are more cherished.

The Men of Halfway House A Better Man A Hunted Man A Restored Man A Mended Man …More to come…