A CUDDLY TOY #5
An Amazon #1 seller, LGBT Fiction
He
depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont: As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on
the rez. My boss was an unstable tyrant
who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan. I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo
hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted
and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what
decades of this poison was doing to the people.
And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own
deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever. I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out. And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist
me on this coming out journey.
Father
Noel: A cancer invaded our land. My parishioners were dying at a high rate,
their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless. But I never expected my crisis of faith to
come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack
bristling with scientific instruments.
He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands. Will he go up against the powerful
conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us? More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his
vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty.
At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a
sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control. He’s much more than that—he pushes back and
has me on my knees. I was sent here to
this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez. Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous
desert would be my salvation.
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A MUTUAL FRIEND #6
Courageous
lives forever.
King: I’m just a mild-mannered truck driver trying
to do right and make it through each day. When my rig was held up by neo-Nazi
thugs, they stole a shipment intended for the Bent Zealots MC. I need to make it right by the bikers.
During a rumble
at the clubhouse, I found myself brutally dry-humping a dark, smoky biker. Appalled by my behavior, I slunk off with the
racists, squatting in an empty office building.
Talk about hitting rock bottom.
Anton: Stinging
from the most savage breakup of my life, I took to the road in my new
occupation: demonologist. The Zealots
have just the job for me—figuring out what the fuck is eating Barclay Samples,
a Prospect who’s been slicing and dicing small animals to drink their healing
blood.
I found a new
partner in my quest to exorcise Barclay’s demon—the studly trucker who
manhandled me in the brawl. Our
attraction is one for the ages, made in heaven.
We can bring each other out of our shells in the accepting environment
of the gay MC, but the dark forces of the white power men and the devil
controlling poor Barclay have taken the upper hand.
King: Body
parts began appearing, both in town and in our kitchen. We have a mind-blowing choice: admit defeat or
return fire with every tool in our arsenal.
If
you have ghosts, then you have everything.
A LONG CON #7
The
true story of a giant fake.
BERKELEY. I didn’t
want to leave New York and return to Rough and Ready, the scene of so much
youthful horror. Who else would help my
mother, the queen of all hoarders, her garbage piles of home shopping network
crap, her mummified cats? Discovering my
one-month-old twin in the freezer was the crowning glory. On top of it all, someone breaks in and
steals our silverware. What.
The. Fuck.
I’m out for blood.
ROYAL.
I was just a former WWE wrestler with a traumatic brain injury running small-time
hustling ops when the most chiseled stud I’ve ever beheld comes tearing into a
Bent Zealots party. Berkeley’s chasing
my runner who has stolen his forks and knives, so I take him aside to soothe
him. Soon we’re in his bedroom between
stacks of junk, the walls adorned with his talented, stunning paintings. And we’re locked in a compromising position.
The brain injury gave me an immunity to fear. The only thing I’m terrified of is admitting
I’m gay.
I can resist everything but temptation.
BERKELEY.
Royal is my manager, selling my undiscovered Marcel Duchamp original for
straight bank. But when it goes missing,
we’re off on a crazy, fucked-up mission into the killing fields and sushi
restaurants of Mexico, the pink-painted deserts and Navajo rezzes of
Arizona.
I couldn’t have picked a better partner for this
quest. Royal is a shredded Christ on a
bike, though I’ll never admit I’m a bit in love with him. Why fall in love when I’ve got to go on the
run again?
You can't con a con. The longer I’m partnered up with this
musclehead, the harder I fall.
Publisher’s
Note: This
book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of graphic gay sex,
illegal doings, consensual bondage and discipline, frottage, Kinbaku, themes of
Daddy dominance, hunt clubs, deadly fugu,
and violence in general. It’s a full-length novel of 60,000 words. There are no
cheating or cliffhangers, and there are HEAs for all.
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They
do not apologize for a damned thing.
VAN. Revenge
for the death of my lover led me west, out of the Appalachian holler where
meth-making defined me. I was not that backwoods addict but a clean member of a
motorcycle club where violence and mayhem prevailed. My only outlet was
cruising the dating apps, and yes, catfishing juicy hunks under a fake profile.
Some sleazery just never vanishes. But I was trying.
Hunt.
As an astrophysicist and family man, I was seemingly living the good
life. But the persona I’d kept hidden for decades insisted on bursting forth. I
needed to handle the crazy, so I came out to my wife and children. A heart
attack showed me the path, and it led directly to the loving arms of Van Rossi,
a down-to-earth fellow hillbilly. His rustic persona brought out the lusty,
experimental side of me, and I’d follow him to any jackoff club at the end of
the earth.
Van. Dr.
Mountjoy is beyond my redneck reach. I loathe myself for scamming such an
upstanding academic—with such upstanding equipment. My stunning archangel has dropped from heaven
just for me, and I don’t deserve him. And when the Society’s Baggers come to blast
the Bent Zealots MC, Hunt will see the real me. I’m not even brave enough to
follow through on my revenge. How can this beautiful saint see anything in me
at all? I have my whole life to apologize for, but he doesn’t need to apologize
for a fucking thing.
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A DANGEROUS REALITY BOX SET Books 1-4