Resultados de "K. M. Neuhold" en Todas las categorias

The thing about guys is that we communicate on a physical, primal level. A hearty slap on the backside just means “good game, bro”. Some good old fashioned roughhousing just means we’re comfortable with each other. Some late night stress relief? Just dudes being dudes… Right? We’re just friends. Just roommates. Just a couple of guys doing what guys do. So what if I can’t stop thinking about kissing him? Is there a way I can “no homo” my way out of this? If I'm really honest with myself, I don't think I even want to. So… maybe YES, homo?

In my defense, Saxon is a gorgeous, successful, big-d**k Daddy with a million SUBscribers drooling over his Daddy Cam. He probably has 10 boys a week on their knees...or over his. And I’m nothing but his nerdy roommate and oldest friend. Except, the way he looks at me never makes me feel that way. The way he looks at me makes me think that maybe he sees me too.

Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him.

Saying I've had a crush on my best friend's older brother, Pax, most of my life is like saying the big bang was just an explosion. It's true, but I'm not sure that quite captures the essence of its true enormity. I don't think my advanced physics knowledge is going to help me figure this one out. But I think for once I'm okay with not knowing, as long as Pax and I don't know together.

I'm a list person. Lists make sense, they give a chaotic, unpredictable world order. Realizing I was gay at 30 definitely wasn't on my list. I guess I need a new list….

We couldn't be more different, but Lyric has always been the one that got away. My first love. My High Note. After 8 years solving the mysteries of the universe as a nuclear physicist, I burnt out. I needed a break, and spending a summer as a bartender on Palm Island sounded like the perfect cure. I expected the wild parties, strong drinks, and loose dress code. What I didn't expect was to step off the ferry and see the man I let get away nearly a decade ago. Lyric and I couldn't be more different. I'm an introvert, he's always the life of the party.

The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart. All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch. Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me. But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?

I didn’t know the guy I picked up in the bar last night was Hero’s son. To be fair, he didn’t even know he had a son until today. I guess we’re all just scrambling to put on our poker faces. Keeping my hands off of Milo is hard enough thanks to his lickable dimple, flirty smiles, and virgin skin. But I swear this has to be a test. Why else would Hero insist that his son come to live with me? And why is it so hard for Milo to just keep his clothes on already?

I didn’t know the house I broke into belonged to a mafioso, and now my revenge arc is a lot more complicated. 7 years ago, I died. Nameless, forgotten, left in a ditch after an overdose. I don’t know who saved me or why. God? Satan? A good Samaritan whose name I'll never know? It doesn't really matter. I don’t know who I used to be. My name, my past, they were buried. But somehow, I'm still here. I'm not the only one the Sleepless Reapers have used and abused, but I will be the last, if I have anything to say about it. I don’t need the attention of a mafioso.

Blurb I’m just a nerd, standing in front of a bench press, asking it not to humiliate me in front of my gym crush I’ve never walked into a gym on purpose in my life, and I’m not sure which part is more shocking, the massive beefcake who immediately challenges me to arm wrestle or the fact that I kind of want to come back. I spent years of my life refusing to lift anything heavier than a textbook, and it shows. I never expected that coming to the gym and bulking up would give me more gender euphoria than all the T shots in the world.

As long as LonelyDaddy is on the other side of the computer screen, there’s a chance he could be the man Emerson has been dreaming of. I’ve gotten used to being alone, to disappearing inside the fictional worlds between the pages of a book, and letting my lonely life fade away.

Five years ago, the military returned me home short a leg with scars covering one side of my body. I learned to live with it, I built a new life for myself, and I found a way to love the new body I was given…there’s just one thing I can’t accept. I have no right to want someone as vibrant and beautiful as Nolan, not when a very vital part of my anatomy doesn’t always work anymore. Alden can’t seem to stop meddling between the two of us, and I hate to admit it, but there’s something about him that manages to fix what’s broken in me.

When half your face is covered in a big, blotchy birthmark, you get used to the staring and the whispers. You get used to feeling unwanted. Until he walks into my bar.... Tall, gorgeous, and all kinds of out of place. And the way he looks at me ain’t like no way I've ever seen before.

I definitely overestimated my own handyman skills when I bought this fixer-upper. I have to say, the view from my new place is worth it though. Especially around seven o'clock every morning when my big, furry bear of a neighbor drinks his coffee shirtless on his back porch. He's dedicated to the bear thing too. Growly, grumpy, and as it turns out, he really likes belly rubs. Am I a sucker for a touch starved grump? Yes. Am I sorry about it? Absolutely not.

Lewis. Clingy, needy, Too Much. Just a few choice words from men who never deserved me anyway. I'm not going to make the same mistakes again though. I plan to ride the motorcycle hottie of my dreams just until we both get bored. Besides, who has time for anything but a quick fling when the jerks at the tattoo shop next door insist on doing everything they can to annoy the hell out of me with some stupid prank war?

It's not a relationship, it's just a patchwork of tattoo sessions and sweaty secrets with a rock star. No big deal. I've been keeping this secret for four years, counting down the months in between visits from Onyx. To everyone else I'm “Hero” but he mostly just calls me “yes” and “more” while we trade heated kisses and wandering hands. I know it won't ever be anything more than a wild secret and eventually he'll get bored hooking up with a tattoo artist fifteen years too old for him from Nowhere, Wisconsin. But I'm more than happy to enjoy this while it lasts.

That Feeling when the man you just robbed and left tied up and blindfolded turns out to be in the mafia… I'm not proud of the things I've had to do for money to pay off my dad's debts and put my younger brother through college. But I'll never regret it. What I do regret is accidentally robbing a Moretti. Having to look over my shoulder and ducking every time a car backfires is bad enough, but when the man in question starts costing me business? Yeah, I think we’re going to have a problem.

I’ve spent my entire adult life working eighty hours a week, chasing money, security…success. When my recent start-up went under, leaving me with nothing to show for years of grinding myself down to the bone, I’m not sure who I am anymore. I never thought I’d be 48 with no money, living with my brother, trying to figure everything out from scratch. But, here we are….

I made peace with my hopeless crush on my straight best friend, Journey, years ago. It helps that he’s never in the country long and our relationship consists of sporadic texts and video chats at odd hours. Now Journey is back. Back in the country, in my space, sharing my bed, and something is changing between us.

He hated me from the second he laid eyes on me, and I don't have the first clue why.... But, if he wants to hate me, I'm happy to give him a few reasons: mowing the lawn at dawn on the weekend, leaving garbage cans in front of his driveway, renting a petting zoo for my backyard...making a list of ways to drive him crazy is half the fun.