You can read the first chapter on the book's page at Dreamspinner Press. The excerpt I've chosen to share brings them face to face.
Inked Music
Can a wealthy but bored businessman rescue a tortured musician from his self-imposed purgatory with a scorching kinky romance?
When Rene Conette attends an intimate performance at a local bar, the guitarist moves him enough that he attempts to go backstage but is stymied by the man’s bodyguard. Putting it down as not meant to be, he goes on with his life only to run into the man again, late at night at a bookstore.
Gavin Turner used to be a famous musician until an obsessed fan kidnapped and tortured him. Then it came out that he was into the BDSM lifestyle, and the court of public opinion ravaged him. He lost his Master and his self-confidence. Now he hides behind his ink and his bodyguards, who make sure he doesn’t come into contact with anyone or anything he doesn’t want to. Though it’s been years since he satisfied his needs, he doesn’t think he can trust again.
If Rene can work his way past Gavin’s defenses, they might find they complement each other perfectly.
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Excerpt:
Rene dropped Amanda at her apartment and pulled off his cravat before shrugging out of his morning coat . He tossed both onto the seat next to him. The fundraiser this evening had been a full-on shindig, and he’d played his part until the bitter end. Amanda was often his date at such events. A socialite, she wasn’t interested in a relationship right now, and it worked for both of them to be each other’s plus-one . He flirted like crazy at all the events—he had a reputation as a playboy to uphold after all. The joke, of course, was that he wasn’t even straight. Most people didn’t care to dig deeply enough to figure that out, though.
He sat in the car a few moments, his eyes closed as the engine idled. Bernard sat quietly behind the wheel, waiting for his command. The thing was, he didn’t want to go home. He was keyed up. He would never get to sleep like this, and it was too late on a Wednesday night to hit a club and find a sub for an hour or two, or even to have a drink and some conversation.
He wasn’t really in the mood for a random hookup anyway. He wanted… a quiet corner with a good book. The Book Refuge downtown was open twenty-four hours. He could wander the stacks, find something good to read, curl up in the huge chair in the back room, and then walk home from there whenever he was ready. Perfect.
Leaning forward, he touched Bernard’s shoulder. “The Book Refuge on Charles, please.”
“You got it, Mr. Rene.”
Smiling wryly, Rene sat back. He’d asked Bernard countless times to call him Rene and nothing more, but Bernard had made a huge concession by calling him Mr. Rene instead of Mr. Conette, and Rene had been unable to get him to budge any further on the formality scale. From a generation or two ago, Bernard believed in formality and manners. He also believed in keeping his mouth shut about his employer, which made him invaluable.
Traffic was nonexistent this late. If it had been a Friday or Saturday night, 1:30 a.m. would have been just the beginning of the real parties, but on a weekday it was a different story. Bernard pulled up to the curb in front of the bookstore.
“Thanks. You can go home.” Not only was he more than capable of walking the kilometer or so to the apartment, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be, and he didn’t want to keep Bernard out later than necessary.
“Are you sure?” Bernard asked, looking around with a frown.
“I’ll be fine. If I’m not up to walking home, I’ll call an Uber. Go on now.” He gave Bernard’s shoulder a squeeze and let himself out, leaving his tie and coat behind. As he entered the store, he undid his cuff links and slipped them into his pocket. He took a deep breath, already feeling better.
The lighting was low, giving the place a cozy feel, a sensation added to by the warmth and the pot of tea and cookies on the table to the right of the door. The Book Refuge really was a refuge, and if you were respectful and treated both the books and your fellow customers with care, the owner was happy to let you spend the night in one of the many chairs that dotted the store. Rene knew this because he was the owner in question, though it was a tightly guarded secret. He didn’t do it for notoriety or kudos. He did it because it was needed.
Drake Longhorn, the weekday nighttime manager, waved at him from behind the counter, and Rene gave him a nod before heading for the suspense section. He was in the mood to lose himself among spies and explosions.
He loved how the walls were lined with shelves, each one crammed full of books. It was like a library, and the fact that there was no music playing and the place seemed currently devoid of customers, making it very quiet, only added to that. Rene spent his time reading back covers until he settled on a few books that looked interesting, then headed over to his favorite alcove and the huge overstuffed throne of a chair there. He was almost at the chair before he realized it was already occupied, which brought him up short. Not so devoid, then. There was a lean man curled up on the seat, an old Stephen King book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other.
Rene was surprised enough to exclaim, “Oh.” He blinked a few times.
The man looked up at him, eyes so dark they were like holes in a blanket. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just didn’t expect to find anyone back here,” he admitted, fascinated by the skinny man in a faded T-shirt and even older jeans in front of him.
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll move.” The man stood, preternaturally graceful as he moved. “Enjoy your book.”
Rene felt like he’d met this guy before, but he couldn’t figure out where. Maybe it was the electricity between them that made him think he knew the man. “No, you were here first. You don’t have to go. There’s lots of chairs.” Of course this one was big enough for two.
“That’s fine. I know a longing look when I see it.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” He grinned, imagining a look of longing on the guy’s face. He was hit with a wave of desire. Damn. He hadn’t felt lust at first sight like this since… since that night at the club with the guitarist. And that’s where he knew this guy from. It was the musician himself. What a happy coincidence.
“Yep. Have a good night.” He got a nod, and then the bare feet padded toward the far back of the store. “I’ll be back here, Drake.”
“You’re fine, Gavin. Relax,” Drake called back.
Gavin. Now Rene knew the guy’s name.
Sean
smut fixes everything
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