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Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts

Sunday, November 22, 2020

Sneak Peek Sunday

I'm giving a sneak peek today of my Hammer Auction book for this year. I sat down to begin writing and who turned up to be a part of it but Xavier, the man who runs the club. I have had lots of requests over the years for his story, but he's been stubborn and I didn't even know what his story was. So I was thrilled to learn more about him and to share it with you.

Treasured

It’s that time of year again and the Hammer Club Christmas Auction is in full swing, the holidays ready to work their magic.

Fifteen years ago Xavier watched his one true love walk away, unable to follow the man on his need for adventure. In those years, Xavier has made a life for himself as manager of the Hammer Club. He has friends, he has purpose, he has joy and happiness. What he’s never had is a lover, his heart still taken.

This year, as he watches the auction, keeping everything flowing smoothly, he’s happy for all the couples, new and established, who are coming together and raising money for charity. The last thing he expects is for Marcus to announce a name he hasn’t heard in fifteen years.

Tyr didn’t want to leave Xavier behind all those years ago, but he knew if he settled down instead of going, he’d always wonder what if. Now that he’s back for the one thing missing from his life, will he be able to convince Xavier that this is real and not just the magic of Christmas?

pre-order links:

Excerpt:

Marcus and Billy were having a ball, running the holiday auction, with Jim and Tanny playing fluffer in the back of the house.

Xavier watched the money roll in, the subs and Doms pair up, and he couldn’t help his smile. So many great memories from the last fifteen years he’d been here.

So much magic.

So much fun.

Drew, one of his waiters, came up with a platter of food. “Are you hungry, Sir?” The boy was flirting with him outrageously.

“I’m not, boy. Thank you. You might see if Tanny or Jim are though.” He was ready for his vacation.

Drew looked disappointed that he hadn’t gotten the response he’d been hoping for, but he moved on, taking his tray of food toward the back where Jim and Tanny were working.

“We have someone new on stage tonight,” Marcus said from his spot at the corner of the stage, looking at his notes.

Oh, this was always fun. Always. Some pretty little twink finding a night of fun. And sometimes their special someone. The magic of Christmas.

“Ready to whisk the lucky winner away for a dinner at the very romantic Blue Skies restaurant, this is Tyr.”

Xavier frowned and glanced over at the stage. He didn’t know a Tyr, or he hadn’t in a long time.

The man who came out was no shy twink. No, this guy was a stud. Wearing only a tight pair of beat-up jeans, this man was tall and blond and boasting a magnificent chest and gun-show arms.

Xavier stood up, utterly shocked. “Tyr?”

No. No, that was his lover. His. He hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Is there an opening bid?” Marcus asked.

“He’s not for sale.” Xavier’s voice rang out through the club.

Dead silence fell over the club, and everyone’s head swiveled to stare at him, mouths dropped open. Not Tyr’s though. No that fine fucking son of a bitch was grinning like a loon.

It was Marcus who finally broke the stunned silence. “Xavier?”

“I said, he’s not for sale.” Xavier held Marcus’s gaze, and he didn’t back off it. There was no way he was playing a game, not with Tyr close enough to see.

Marcus nodded. “Very well. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be moving on to the next auction item. This is Brandon, a boy looking for a Dom for the night. It’s his first time…”

Marcus’s words faded for Xavier as Tyr jumped off the stage and headed toward him.

He watched every step, admiring the sight of the man that he had thought was his Mr. Right. He’d been wrong, but still—

Tyr was here. In his club. His. Club. There was no way that was a coincidence.

Tyr came to stand in front of him, and Xavier nodded. “Beer?”

“This first.” Tyr grabbed the hair at the back of his head and tilted him, then took a kiss that Xavier felt down to his bones. Hard and slow. Time stopped.



Sean
smut fixes everything

Sunday, July 26, 2020

Sneak Peek Sunday

The next book in the Sealed With a Kink series comes out on Tuesday! It's currently available for pre-order at Amazon and Kobo. On Tuesday it will be available at Turtlehat Creatives. Then on Friday at midnight it hits KU, so it'll be gone from Kobo and Turtllehat at that point.

I'm sharing an excerpt here today as a sneak peek!

Can a good flogging from the right man help a driven artist exorcise his demons?

Damien is a painter with demons. He spends most of his life working those demons out on his canvases, only leaving his studio when one friend or another shows up to drag him out for an hour or two. He’s tried everything to help him sleep through the night, and find some peace, but he knows he’s more than a little crazy and nothing has ever worked.

Trace has been dropping hints to Damien for a while that he’d like to be more than just friends, but Damien doesn’t ever seem to pick up on them. Believing he can give this beautiful man exactly what he needs, Trace takes the bull by the horns one evening when they’re both at the same bar and directly asks Damien to come home with him.

Is Trace right? Does he know exactly what Damien needs to give him some peace, and will Damien trust him enough to try, or is Damien doomed to be forever chased by them? Find out in this latest Sealed With a Kink book.

Buy links:
coming to Turtlehat Creatives on Tuesday


Excerpt:

Jesus, I’m bored.

I’ve been in the house for months, working, creating, and if Nels hadn’t thrown a temper tantrum and dragged me out to the bar, I’d still be doing it—throwing paint on the canvas and working out my demons.

But I’m here. I’m here with my beer, watching Nels dance with some little twink, and I’m waiting for it to turn nine o’clock so I can grab a car home.

I agreed to an hour. Nine makes an hour.

Someone sits next to me. I can feel that he’s a big guy even without looking. He feels solid, like suddenly there’s a brick wall right there.

I’m not looking. I’m not interested. I’m just waiting for nine.

So there.

The bartender comes over. “What’ll it be?”

“Coke, lots of ice, please.” His voice is like velvet dragging over gravel and it hits me in my balls.

Oh, damn. I need to pay my tab and go. Instead, I grin up at him. “Lots of ice?” My eyes go wide. “Trace? Hey.”

“Hi, Damien.”

I’d forgotten just how sexy his voice is, how warm his smile.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” I haven’t seen anyone in a while. I’ve been hiding.

“No, you haven’t been around. I was pleased when I walked in and saw you sitting here. Knew I had to come say hello.”

He’s making me hard just by talking.

Obviously I’ve been alone a while. I’ve known Trace forever. There’s never been a spark. “I’ve been working hard.”

“Too hard. You’ve got dark bags under your eyes.” He reaches out and gently touches me, right under my eyes, and it’s like he’s touching an electric wire to me.

“She’s a demanding mistress.” I am not gasping. I’m not. Nope.

“I know a thing or two about being demanding,” Trace notes. Have his eyes always been so very green? And intensely hot. That has to be new, right?

“Do you?” I take another swig of beer, trying to cool down.

“Yeah, I do. And I think you know exactly what I mean.” That timbre in his voice, that’s new too. So is the way he licks the moisture from his upper lip, tongue sliding slowly.

“H-how’s your Coke?” Stop it. You are not a virgin.

“Nice and cold. Exactly how I like it. How’s your beer?”

“Piss warm and nasty,” I admit. “I’ve been nursing it.”

“If you didn’t want it, why not order something else? A glass of water with ice would take a lot longer to get warm.”

“I was going to leave at nine.” A glass of iced water sounds amazing, though.

Trace nods at the barback, who comes right over. “Ice water, please.” Then he turns back to me, and I feel really seen. “You shouldn’t have to sip at warm beer for another ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” That’s—that’s kind. It feels like a balm, a little. Or maybe a lot.

“It’s the painting, right? Have you got something in particular riding your ass so hard?” The words conjure up a naughty image involving Trace and my ass.

“It is. I got demons, nothing big.” Just…being a worthless shit.

He touches my arm, and that zap from earlier is back like whoa. “Are you okay, Damien? I mean really.”

I go for casual and blithe, because no, no I’m not. I’m lonely, and I’m worn, and I’m more than a little broken.

He’s still staring at me, touching me, and I realize I haven’t actually said anything yet.

My cheeks heat, and I hide my face in the water. “I’ll be fine, honey. Thanks for asking.”

“I don’t think you are. And I want to help.” His tone is gentle, but there’s also a strength there.

“What? Why?” Why on earth would Trace care?

A wry smile quirks up one side of Trace’s mouth. “Because I’ve been interested in you since I first saw you and you’re getting deeper and deeper into your demons.”

“Oh, honey. I—I’m bad news. You have to know that, right?” I reach out and put my hand on his arm, and he’s so warm.

“You’re just… driven and probably a lot lost in what you call your demons. You need a master to take care of you. To help you… focus.”

“I wish.” But I’ve tried that. I’ve tried sex. I’ve tried pain. I’ve tried drugs. The only thing that works is, well, work.

“You could always think of me as your genie—granting you that wish,” Trace suggests.

He has no idea how tempting that is.

“I actually like you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Damien, do you really have so low an opinion of yourself?” He touches my arm again, and it lights me up, warms me to the bone.

“I just know me. I’m a train wreck.” Sad but true.

“Like I said, you need a master.” He’s still touching me, fingers stroking my arm now, leaving tingles behind.

“I tried the lifestyle. I wasn’t good at it. Ask Carlson.” Oh. Probably Trace had. Carlson and I never even fucked—I let him tie me up, spank me. All I could do was wait for it to be over.

“Okay, let me rephrase. You need the right master.” Trace smiled. “I can even refine that. You need me.”

“Did you talk to him? It was a bad experience. I wasn’t ugly.” Was it nine? It had to be…

“I haven’t talked to anyone, Damien. I’ve been observing you. And flirting, but I don’t think I’m very good at it as you don’t seem to have noticed. I’m better at direct.”

“I—” Okay. Stop this. Stop this right now. “Do you dance?”

Wait. What?

“I’m no Arthur Miller, but I enjoy moving to the music.” Trace stands and holds out his hand. “And I happen to really like this song.”

“I do too.” I take his hand, and he’s so warm, so tall.

He leads us out into the dance floor and I can feel Nels shooting me a shocked look.

I glare over. I can dance, can’t I? Just one? I’m not taken, for fuck’s sake.

Nels makes a face and turns back to the twink he’s with, but I swear I can feel him cutting glances at me. It’s none of his business.

“Damien. You’re with me. Ignore everything else, yeah?”

That’s more than fair. One dance. Trace deserves that—all of me for a dance. “You’re right. I’d be happy to.”

I push into his arms, trusting that he’ll lead. He does, and we move together like we were made for it. His hands slide down to cup my ass and hold me closer. His fingers are hot, and it’s easy to relax and lean into the rhythm. God, he’s like a jungle gym.

He hums, and the sound is not only happy, but it vibrates through his chest and into me.

“That’s nice,” I whisper. I feel it everywhere, making me shiver.

That makes him hum even more, and I like it. A lot. “For you,” he whispers back at me.

Maybe we could have a one-night stand. Maybe…just one orgasm, one night.

Like he can hear my thoughts, he squeezes my ass in one hand, his fingers digging in through the thick denim of my jeans.

“Uhn…” My eyes roll up in my head, and my toes curl. “Damn.”

“Let me take you home, Damien. We’ll hide you from your demons for the night.”

“One night.” I want to. I want to just relax and let the world disappear.

“When this song is over.” Trace continues to move us, our bodies rubbing together, and he’s hard, cock thick and stiff in his slacks.

I nod, because dancing tells you how good the sex might be. And the way things are going, the sex is going to be fucking good.

We keep moving, the music dictating our speed.

One song slides into another, and I don’t mind. This is sensual and sexual and right. His body keeps moving against mine, slowly ramping me up and making me ache.

“We need to go. It’s been a long time.” And I’m not going to embarrass myself.

“As you wish.” His hands leave my ass and he takes one of mine, leading me from the dance floor and out the door.

Nels comes running up. “Bud? Where are you going, man?”

“I—With Trace.”

Trace slides an arm around my waist and tugs me into his side. I fit there perfectly. Damn. Like the space was made for me.

“With Trace, huh?” Nels rolls his eyes toward me. “You’re cool?”

“I’m cool.” It is a lie. I’m burning up.


Sean

smut fixes everything


Sunday, May 31, 2020

Sneak Peek Sunday

Today I'm doing a sneak peek of my June release - Stephen, book one of the the BOY ISO series.

Look for the cover reveal tomorrow!

The excerpt is still raw, so please excuse any errors and look for the book on June 23, pre-order coming soon!

Stephen
BOY ISO book 1

Bad boy ISO someone to make me behave. Punishments welcome. Strict Daddy Dom necessary. Will consider a pair.

When Champ reads the ad on the internet, the dragon shifter is immediately intrigued and contacts the boy who wrote it. When a quick phone conversation leads to the boy sharing his address, Champ heads over, unhappy that a boy would not only leave his phone number on the internet, but then just give out his address. When he knocks on the door, he’s ready to show this boy exactly what kind of punishments he can meet out.

Stephen would like to be a boy, but he’s been burned, and badly, in the past, so he’s not in the lifestyle anymore. All that changes when he answers the door and meets Champ. It doesn’t matter that Champ was expecting to meet Stephen’s roommate Marc, the big Daddy falls for Stephen immediately and insists that while there was an initial mix-up, Stephen is the one he’s actually there for

Patience, kink, and confidence may not be enough for this Daddy to win his boy over, but add in the magic of love and dragons and it’s a whole other story.


Excerpt:

Chapter One

Bad boy ISO someone to make me behave. Punishments welcome. Strict Daddy Dom necessary. Will consider a pair.

Champagne purred as he read the ad, his prick taking notice. Oh yes, he was a strict Daddy and this boy sounded like a wonderful diversion. 

Bernoise raised an eyebrow and grunted at him. “What’s gotten your attention?”

Champ shook his head. “Nothing.” This one was his. Berny and France could find their own bad boy to punish. 

“You know I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged as he pocketed his phone. “That’s your prerogative.” He headed out of the penthouse apartment, and only looked at his phone again once he was in the elevator on the way down.

There was a phone number with the ad, so he called it.

It took a few rings, but then he heard a curious, “Hello?”

“This is your Daddy, boy.”

“Oh, fuck me. Seriously?”

Yes, and he wasn’t going to allow cursing, and he was going to blister his boy’s ass for putting his phone number online.

“Language, boy. I’m on my way over—I need your address.” He waited for his boy to suggest meeting somewhere and not just giving a total stranger his number .

“It’s 41904 Linc Avenue, apartment 8A .”

Son of a bitch, his boy wasn’t going to sit for a week. “I’ll be there in fifteen.” He cut the call off and stepped off the elevator, pulling up his Uber app. 

His phone rang, but he didn’t answer. He was going to go get this boy and show him strict punishments.

It was ridiculous. No safeword, no names, just here’s my home address, person I don’t know from Adam. Very strict punishments.

His car arrived in a few moments and he got in, sat back, planning how he was going to start. 
His boy obviously needed the firm hand he was asking for. He would introduce himself and find out what the hell the boy was thinking.

He arrived at the building that housed his boy, still worked up over the lack of care for his own safety this boy was taking. It made him glower and grumble. He took the elevator to the fourth floor, then went right, and there he was in front of 8A. He knocked firmly.

“Hold up! I’m coming!” The door opened, and a gorgeous young man, with copper hair, one light blue eye, one dark brown, appeared. “Can I help you?”

Time stopped. It simply stopped, and the glow around this man began to  pulse, calling to him.

Growling, he stepped in, staring. “Daddy’s here, boy.” 

“I—are you looking for Marc?” 

No. No, he was looking for this boy. His boy.

“Nope. You’re my boy—Daddy’s here. I just need your safeword.” 

“My safeword?   But I don’t know you…” The boy stepped away. “I don’t think you’re looking for me. I think you’re looking for my roommate, Marc. I’m Stephen.”

He wasn’t interested in any Marc. This was his boy. “I’m looking for you, boy. I’m Champagne and you can call me Daddy. Are you telling me you don’t have a safeword?”

“I used to. Not for a long time. I’m not a player anymore.”

“No, I’m not playing. Tell me your safeword.” This wasn’t some silly boy. This was his boy. 

“Bubbles.” Stephen stood and stared at him, and he could feel energy pulling them together.

“Bubbles it is. You didn’t put in an ad online, did you?” He knew the answer was no. It made him want to snarl, that this Marc would act so dangerously and then duck out, leave Stephen alone to face the consequences. 

“An ad? For what? I’m telling you, man, you’re looking for Marc.”

“I was looking for Marc, but then I found you.” Such a lovely boy, and the glow around him warmed Champ all the way to his bones.

“You don’t even know if I do guys…” Stephen was pouring pheromones, curiosity and hunger thick on the air.

“Boy, you are screaming for me with every inch of your body.” He knew Stephen could feel the pull—it would be impossible not to.

“I don’t even know you. You just showed up here.” Stephen groaned softly, cock tenting his soft pants. “Maybe…...maybe we could have coffee?”

“I was about to suggest that. Maybe something sweet to go with it, hmm?” He wanted to lick sugar from Stephen’s lips.

“Let me get dressed. Can I meet you at the Second Cup next door? Then we can talk.”

He didn’t want to leave without his boy, but he trusted that Stephen was a boy of his word. Besides, he knew where Stephen lived. And while he’d come in loaded for a spanking to teach the advertiser a message, this was clearly not the boy in question. 

“What can I get for you?” He liked the white hot chocolate at Second Cup himself.

“Can I please have a white chocolate latte? I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

“See you there.” He stepped back and let Stephen close the door, watching the glow of his boy until it was entirely cut off. Wow. That was… amazing. He couldn’t wait to start a relationship with his boy.
There was no doubt that this one was his. None.


Sean
smut fixes everything

Wednesday, May 6, 2020

Book Day Wednesday

I put Unlikely Hero back up on Kobo and Amazon - and it finally turned up on Amazon! So yay!

Unlikely Hero was a lot of fun to write, between the kidnapping, the former lovers, the kid, the hurt/comfort, it's got a little bit of everything in it! There's an excerpt below, and I'll do a smutty excerpt from it on Saturday :)

Unlikely Hero

When his three-year-old daughter is kidnapped, Eric Wilson doesn’t have many options, and time is running out. With nowhere else to turn, he reaches out to his ex, influential businessman Brock Vencenza, whose money and contacts might be able to save Josie.

Brock never got over Eric’s loss, and he’s more than willing to help when Eric needs him most. Together with law enforcement and private security, they embark on a twisting investigation to find the little girl—and who wants to hurt her and destroy both men in the process. Under the circumstances, confessing he still has feelings for Eric would be inappropriate, but Brock can’t deny what’s in his heart. He doesn’t know if their love can be rekindled or if he can even protect Eric and Josie. But one thing is certain: Brock’s determined to be the hero in reality that he is in Eric’s eyes.

Originally released by other publishers.

Buy links:


Excerpt

BROCK VENCENZA glad-handed the board members, smiling and nodding, making all the right noises. He just had to wrap this up and then he was off to the Cayman Islands for some richly deserved R & R. Deep-sea fishing, baby.

He saw the last concerned stockholder out the door and headed for his desk, closed down his computer, and tossed a few files into the in-box for Stephanie.

Speak of an angel; his intercom buzzed, Stephanie’s voice coming next. “Brock, there’s an Eric on the phone, says he has to talk to you. He won’t even give me his last name, sir.”

Brock frowned. Eric? Now there was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. Years. A lot of years. Enough years that it couldn’t be the Eric his mind had automatically pulled up.

“It’s probably just a salesman, Steph. Tell him I’m on vacation.” His yacht was calling to him. Calling.

“I already did. Brock, he sounds too upset to be a salesman.”

Brock growled. “Fine. Put him through.” Steph was getting soft if she couldn’t put off a nuisance call. He pressed the button for the outgoing line and barked out his name.

“Brock? Brock, it’s me. Please, love. I need help.” It was his Eric—his silly, goofy, soft-hearted, ridiculously idealistic to the point of absolute fucking madness Eric—with hysteria in his voice.

It might have been nine years and Eric might have dumped his ass hard, but Brock didn’t even hesitate. “What do you need?”

“Help. Someone’s kidnapped my daughter.”

Brock stood and grabbed his briefcase. “Where are you?”

“I’m downstairs. The security guard wouldn’t let me in. Please, Brock. Josie’s only three. She’s got to be so scared.”

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and nodded to Steph as he passed her desk on the way to the elevators. “I’m off. You know the cell number if there’s an emergency.”

“Have fun, Brock.”

He nodded to her again as the elevator came.

Two minutes later he was in the lobby, scanning it for his ex. God, nine years. That was a lot of fucking water under bridges that were long ago burned.

Eric Wilson stood there, looking completely out of place in the glass and steel modernity of the lobby, reminding Brock oddly of the Scarecrow from Oz—still as skinny as always, dressed in a button-down, a pair of khakis, a ball cap. Jesus. The man had no fashion sense and was all arms and legs and nose and huge blue eyes and…. Right. Zero fashion sense.

None.

And he looked like he was stressed to the gills.

“Eric.”

“Brock.” Eric ran over to him, face drawn, eyes shining. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

He put an arm around Eric’s lean shoulders and pulled him in for a quick, hard hug. “No problem, baby.” He drew Eric into a quiet corner. “Have you called the cops?”

“No. No, the note said they’d kill her. I just… it’s been almost two hours.” Liquid baby blues stared at him, pupils huge.

“You have the note?”

“I do.” Shaking fingers handed it over, the words already smeared with sweat.

We have your dotter, fag. We want $100,000 or she dies. We’ll call at 7. Have $$ redy. Dont call the cops or she dies.

“Okay, you need a scotch.” Or a Valium. Maybe both. “Come on.” He grabbed Eric’s arm and led him out to the parking lot where his Lexus waited.

“What—what do I do? I don’t….” Eric walked beside him, staying close. “God, if something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Brock opened the passenger door for Eric and then went around and got into the driver’s side. “We get you a drink. We pick up the money. We get my people on it.” He unlocked his cell phone and dialed the number for the company that did his security. He was friends with the owner; Gordon was a good man.

Eric clicked his seat belt on, reaching for his wallet.

Brock looked at him. “What are you doing?” Before Eric could answer, a cool woman’s voice said, “Bidden Security, how may I direct your call?”

“Anita? This is Brock Vencenza. I need to speak to Gordon. It’s an emergency.”

“Of course, Mr. Vencenza. Right away.”

The line went quiet, and then Eric handed over a picture of a beautiful, laughing little Chinese girl. “This is her, about a month ago.”

He handed the picture back and squeezed Eric’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re going to get her back.”


Sean
smut fixes everything

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Book Day Wednesday

I was inspired to write Daddy, Daddy and Me by a photo of a child's drawing that I saw and thought would make not only an excellent title, but also excellent cover. When the book moved from one publisher to another, I really wanted to have the same child's drawing, or a similar one and I was very happy with the cover that Alexandria Corva came up with - I especially loved the extra detail of the cover being done in alphabet magnets. Unfortunately I wound up having to ask for my rights back for the book a second time, so now it is self-published. But it still boasts the wonderful cover by Alexandria.

I've just put it back up - it's on Kobo and I will share the Amazon link as soon as they let it drop. I've included a nice long excerpt here, and there will be a smutty excerpt on Saturday!


Daddy, Daddy and Me

When Jeff agreed to be the sperm donor to his best friend Beth, he never expected a tragedy to leave his newborn and three-year-old motherless. Beth’s loss has totally thrown his life into chaos: his lover has left him, his house isn’t anywhere near childproof, and his boss feels the restaurant has been patient enough with Jeff’s time off.

Donny has always known he wanted to work with kids, and he just finished his degree in early childhood education. He didn’t count on the prejudice he’d face as not only a male nanny, but a gay one at that. Job-hunting has been frustrating to say the least, so when he knocks on Jeff’s door and is greeted by the sounds of things breaking and a pair of screaming children, he thinks maybe he can begin this particular interview with a trial by fire.

Becoming the nanny to Jeff’s children might be a dream come true for Danny and exactly what Jeff needs, but are either of them ready to really be a family?

Originally released by other publishers

Buy links:
Kobo
Amazon


Excerpt:

Chapter One 

Donny got off the bus and turned right, like his GPS was telling him to. The address was 3479 Blueberry Lane. Blueberry. He smiled and shook his head. When he’d first seen the ad, he’d thought it was a joke.

It wasn’t, though, and so he was going to give it his best shot. Since graduating with his degree in early childhood care, even his best shot hadn’t been good enough. He was a man, after all.
And a gay one at that.

He’d been interviewed for more jobs than he cared to count, and the only silver lining he could find was that at least he was now an expert at being interviewed.

When he got to 3479 Blueberry Lane, he’d expected it to look like a clone of its neighbors. But it didn’t. This one looked like someone had taken the time to do some planning before it had been built. It was beautiful. He couldn’t see anything in the fenced-off backyard, but the flower beds weren’t quite as neat and tidy as most on the block, and there was a little shovel and a pail sitting in the dirt. Of course, kids would do that to your lawn, leave you with no time to care about what was actually growing in the beds.

He made sure he was all tucked in and that he didn’t have anything stuck in his teeth before he headed up the walk and knocked on the door. There was a bell, but if there were little kids, there was always the chance they were sleeping, and he didn’t figure it would endear him to anyone if he woke the wee ones up.

“Just a second!”

Someone inside screamed, “No! No! No! Daddy Jeff. No!”

Then there was a crash, followed by the wail of an infant.

Good Lord.

He hesitated for no more than half a second before he tried the door; they clearly needed help in there.

A dark-haired little boy came squealing toward him, naked, screaming, covered in what looked like marker, followed closely by a man hopping on one foot, blood dripping from the hand wrapped around the foot in the air. “Robin! Robin, are you okay?”

Wow.

Donny closed the door quickly and went to his knees to catch Robin before the kid could streak by him. “Hey, buddy, slow down there.”

“No baths! No! No!” Bright blue eyes, filled with tears, met his. “I drawed!”

“I can see that. You know what the problem with no baths and using yourself as paper is?” The boy shook his head. “You run out of places to draw too quickly!” Donny looked past Robin to the good-looking, bleeding man and gave him an empathetic smile.

He got an exhausted grin, a mouthed “thank you.”

Robin frowned, chewing his bottom lip. “Daddy Jeff. Want bath. Now!”

“Okay, Robin. Okay. Let me grab your sister.” The man let go of his foot, and blood sprayed. “And a paper towel.”

“I can either get the little girl or help him with his bath, if you want?” Hands-on help would be an excellent way to prove that despite the fact he was a man, he could do the job and do it well.

“I-I don’t even know you. You—”

The baby started screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Watch the glass. The bathroom’s this way.”

“I’m Donald Gleason. I’m your three o’clock nanny interview.” He lifted Robin up over the glass as he followed Daddy Jeff down the hall.

“Jeff Roberts.” Jeff pulled a huge piece of glass from his foot. “Oh, better.”

God, blood was getting everywhere.

“Sit,” Donny ordered when they got to the bathroom. It wouldn’t kill the little one to cry for another moment as her father got his foot wrapped.

“I need to get Kimberley.”

“Daddy Jeff, you got blood everywhere,” Robin said, eyes wide.

The man sighed. “Yes, Robin, I know.”

“Sit and let me doctor that,” Donny said. “You’re not going to calm her down if you’re flustered.” He grabbed a washcloth, ran it under the water, and then wrung it out. He handed it to Robin. “I’ve got a really important job for you—can you hold this against Daddy Jeff’s foot while I find a Band-Aid?”

“I can. I’m big.” Robin beamed, bounced over, and placed the cloth on Jeff’s foot.

“The Band-Aids are in the medicine cabinet. There’s a lock thing. On the top.” Jeff sounded utterly wiped.

Donny got the child lock undone and found the gauze and the Band-Aids, then grabbed them and handed them over to Daddy Jeff. Jeff. He relocked the cabinet. “Just keep holding that there, Robin. I’m going to get your sister.”

He heard Jeff telling him he didn’t have to, but he followed the wails upstairs into a little room, half-painted, half-decorated, with the most beautiful, tiny, dark-haired baby in a crib, screaming her head off and kicking furiously.

“Well, hello there, beautiful.” He picked her up and leaned her against his shoulder, bouncing her a little. “Don’t you have a good pair of lungs?”

She hiccupped, sobbed a little, her baby head bobbing.

“Aw, sweetie, it’s okay. Things just got a little busy, that’s all. You weren’t forgotten, I swear.” He kept crooning to her, bouncing her as he headed back down the stairs toward the bathroom.

The bath water was running, Robin lecturing his father about temperature very firmly. “You have to make it right. Mommy says not too hot.”

“I won’t make it too hot, Robin.”

Donny hid his grin in the little girl’s hair. “Looks like things are almost under control here.”

“Yes. Let me get him clean and get her changed. I….” Tired blue eyes met his. “I fell asleep.”

“Hey, man, it happens. That’s why you’re advertising for a nanny, right? I’ll change her, and then you can hold her while I doctor your foot. Then we’ll get Robin de-markered. In the meantime”—he turned to Robin—“why don’t you get in and see how much water that tugboat can take on before it sinks?”

“Boats! Daddy Jeff taked me on a boat!” Robin splashed into the tub and almost fell, but Jeff caught him before he went down.

“Nice save.” Donny chuckled and set the little girl on the changing table in the corner, making quick work of her diaper. “What’s this beauty’s name again?” It was something with a K, he thought.

“Kimberley.”

Jeff stood and limped to the linen cupboard to retrieve a fresh washcloth. The bathroom was well-appointed, fancy and fabulous and marble, and incredibly not kid friendly. All that marble would be hell on falls and bumps. While there was a lock on the medicine cabinet, there wasn’t one on the toilet.

“What a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

He took the washcloth when Jeff gave it to him and cleaned her up, got a new diaper on her. “Sit back down, man, and I’ll give her to you, get that foot checked out. And Robin can tell me all about this boat you took him on.”

Robin was laughing and splashing, making a mess and generally ignoring him, which worked too.
Jeff sat on the toilet, held his hands out for the baby. God, the kids looked just like him, both of them.

Donny handed Kimberley over and kept half an eye on Robin while he took a look at Jeff’s foot; as long as Robin was making noise, he knew the kid was okay.

“This looks pretty deep. You should probably keep off it.”

“Yeah. He broke a lamp, and it just shattered.”

“You probably don’t need stitches or anything, though.” He smiled at Jeff. The man was good-looking.

“I don’t. It’ll heal. It has to—I have to work tomorrow.”

Donny decided the gauze would work best and started wrapping Jeff’s foot. “What do you do?”

“I’m the head chef at Dejeuner.”

The restaurant was a famous enough Ottawa spot that Donny’d heard of it, though he couldn’t afford to eat there. “Wow, that’s cool. What’s your wife do?” He finished wrapping and used a clip to keep the gauze in place before settling back on his haunches to look up into Jeff’s face.

“I’m not married.”

Not married. Well, no wonder he was exhausted. Toddlers were hard work; throw in a baby and you could kiss a decent night’s sleep goodbye, especially if you were doing it alone.
Jeff shifted Kimberley, and the baby gurgled. “This has got to be the weirdest interview for you ever.”

“It’s more like a trial by fire than an interview, eh?” Donny grinned up at Jeff, patted the baby on the butt, and turned his attention to Robin. “And how about you—are you ready to help me show your daddy that I know how to do bath time properly?”

“Yes!” Water went flying, the little boy as joyous as he had been hysterical. It was a beautiful thing about that age: emotions were big and swift, and bad moods were usually easy enough to take care of. 
Even when the “terrible twos” lingered into the threes.

Laughing, he wiped the water off his face. It was too bad he hadn’t brought along a change of clothes. He would next time. If there was a next time; he was hoping like hell that he was proving his worth right here and now.

Between the two of them, they got Robin clean, dry, dressed, and sitting at the kitchen table with a snack of apples and cheese. Jeff fixed Kimberley a bottle and then offered him a tired smile. “Would you like some coffee? Water?”

“I’m good, man. I can feed her if you want, while we do the interview.”

“It’s okay. You’ve helped a ton already. Come on, let’s sit at the island, and you can tell me about yourself.”

“Sounds good. This is a gorgeous kitchen,” Donny added as he sat on one of the stools next to the island. Of course, Jeff was a chef—it made sense he had a great kitchen. This one was bigger than most kitchens Donny had seen, though. A table big enough for six sat next to a large window that opened onto a covered porch, which held another table with four chairs around it. The island was fabulous, but the corners hadn’t been covered and would probably do some damage to a little head if it careened into them.

The counters were light marble, and the cupboards were dark with gold knobs. A double oven sat next to the stovetop, and the fridge had one of those ice dispenser things. There was a door out to the porch. The whole thing was bright, and while it was fancy, it was inviting to sit in, and he’d bet to cook in as well.

“Thank you. I had it built just last year.”

“Must have been hard with a little one underfoot.” He gave Robin a grin, the little boy munching away on his apple slices.

“Oh, they just moved in… three weeks ago? Kimberley was only nine weeks old.”

“I thought she looked little-little.” This was clearly not your standard family here. The kids were definitely Jeff’s—they looked too much like him not to be—but Jeff wasn’t married, and they’d only moved in a few weeks ago. “I’m not prying, but I do need to know the family situation if I’m going to work for you.”

Jeff sighed. “The kids were…. God, this is complicated. Beth wanted babies, and she was my best friend. I… I was the donor for both.”

“Okay.” That was a pretty big thing, no matter how good a friend the lady was. He gave Jeff an encouraging look.

Jeff looked down at the baby, rocking her. “She was doing great, was getting ready to go back to work, when….” He stopped, cleared his throat. “There was a fire. She got the kids out. But….”

Oh God. Oh damn. That was… God. “I’m so sorry, Jeff. Man, that’s… I’m so sorry.” What could he say?

“Yeah. It sucked. And I’m their godfather. They came to live with me.” The godfather and the actual father. It made sense, given the circumstances, but at the same time, wow.

“So how long have you had them?”

“Since March twenty-third. Three weeks. My sister, Jillian, she came for ten days at the beginning, but….” Jeff suddenly looked desperate. “My leave at work is short, and what if one of them gets sick? And potty training. He’s wet the bed since he came.”

Someone needed a nap. And it wasn’t Robin. Or Kimberley.

“Sounds like you really need a nanny. Good thing you put an ad in for one.” He gave Jeff a grin. “How many people have you seen?” Was he still in the running? How many of them could have displayed the hands-on skills he had right now? That had to put him in the running, right?

“Twelve.” Jeff sighed. “Ten people who told me I needed to give them to their grandparents, one who wanted to be my live-in lover, and one who lectured me on the evils of butter.”

Donny frowned. “People suck, man—how you decide to raise your children is your business, and dude, butter is awesome.” He thought he definitely had a chance here. For the first time since about his twentieth interview, he had hope that he might get the job. “I’ve got my degree in early childhood care, but no practical experience, unless you count being the coolest uncle to my sisters’ kids. I can start tomorrow—well, even today, I guess. What kind of hours are we talking?” If Jeff was a chef, he was going to work afternoons and evenings, right?

“I work from two in the afternoon to midnight, Tuesday through Saturday. I know that’s like a lot of hours for you, but I’ll provide room and board and a good salary. You’d have Sunday and Monday off, and….” Jeff trailed off. “Do you have references? I should probably ask for those.”

Oh, room and board—he wouldn’t have to bus it in every day, which was a relief if he was going to be here until after midnight on a regular basis. It meant he could bank most of his salary too.

“I do. I have written references in my bag, which I left in the hall, and you can call them too, if you want. It is a lot of hours, but if I’m living in, I’m saving transit time.” And money paying for his own place. “I’ve met the kids and like them, and they don’t seem allergic to me.”

“No. No, they don’t.” Jeff offered him another half smile. Robin was falling asleep in his snack, and the baby was sleeping again. “I’ve never done this before. She wasn’t supposed to die.”

Donny nodded. “Yeah, life has a way of throwing punches. I’d really like to take the job. I could stay the rest of the afternoon as a trial while you get some rest, if you want.”

“You don’t want to see your room or anything?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Jeff. I’ve been to a lot of interviews, and most of the time I barely make it past the first two minutes because I’m a guy. And if I do, well, then I tell them….” He took a deep breath, hoping like hell Jeff wasn’t a homophobic prick. “I tell them I’m gay, and they can’t get rid of me fast enough.”

“You’re family?” Jeff’s eyes went wide.

His own mouth dropped open at Jeff’s words, and then he grinned, nodded. “How about that?”

“I…. Seriously? Are you fucking with me, man?”

“Daddy Jeff! Bad word!”

Donny had to bite his lip, hard, to keep from laughing. “That was a bad word, wasn’t it?”

Robin nodded, then teared up. “Mommy says no bad words.”

Jeff’s eyes closed. “I hate four in the afternoon. He acts like it’s nap time, but then he won’t be able to sleep.”

Shifting his chair closer to Robin, Donny took the little boy’s hand in his. “Sometimes people forget they aren’t supposed to say bad words. That’s what Daddy Jeff did. He’ll try very hard not to say it again, okay?”

He got a solemn nod from Robin, the little boy still sniffling.

“You have any DVDS of the Teletubbies or anything like that? Something he can settle with and chill for forty minutes or so?” If Robin was resisting naps, he would still benefit from some quiet time.

“I bought a bunch of sh—stuff. They lost everything. It’s been crazy.”

“Okay, it’s all good. Why don’t you go put Kimberley down and then put your head down yourself? You look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a while. Robin and I will check out your DVD collection together.”

He’d bet this job that Robin would fall asleep in front of the TV if they found something gentle to watch. He would also bet that if Jeff got some sleep and relaxed, it would help Robin relax as well.

He really felt for them all, and suddenly he was glad he’d not gotten a job yet. These people needed him. He knew things always happened for a reason; he shouldn’t have stressed about it so hard.

“We’ll all come rest together.”

That was fair—Jeff didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. Donny had no problem with his needing a little more than a bit of help in an emergency to leave the kids alone with him.

Jeff led him to a huge great room, the furniture heavy and leather and masculine, the little child’s beanbag chair next to the dark brown couch looking incongruous. There were shelves full of books and DVDs, a coffee table, and a couple of little tables next to the each of the recliners that bracketed the couch. Knickknacks were all chest height and above, but Donny knew how easy it would be for them to tempt Robin into climbing the shelves to get to them.

He would have to sit down with Jeff after he had managed to get some sleep and talk about some of the things that needed doing to properly childproof the place. Clearly an attempt had been made, but it was amazing how much more was needed. Especially when the baby got old enough to be mobile.

Jeff sat on the couch, the baby on his chest. Before Donny could get a movie on for Robin, the man was sound asleep.

He found a Max & Ruby DVD and put it in. “Where should we sit, Robin?”

“I…. That’s my big boy chair.” Robin pointed to the beanbag.

“Oh, it looks comfy. Is it?”

Robin nodded, chewed his bottom lip. “You can’t fit.”

“No, but I could sit next to you? Or we could sit on the couch together.”

“Okay. With Daddy Jeff?”

At the sound of his name, Jeff twitched.

“Yeah, you can sit between us.” Donny sat on the other side of the couch and patted the space between him and Jeff.

Robin crawled up and settled beside him, little hand on his father’s knee. His thumb popped into his mouth.

Donny held his hand out by Robin’s thigh. “Hold my hand?”

The little boy stared at him for a long, long time; then the thumb came out, fingers placed in his. Donny smiled gently and curled his fingers around Robin’s, then turned his attention to the TV, to getting the DVD going.

Soon the gentle sounds of Max & Ruby filled the room. It took seven minutes before Robin cuddled into Jeff’s side and fell sound asleep. Donny nodded—nap time.

Donny looked at the three of them. The family he was here to take care of. He felt like this was meant to be; they were his family.


Pretty fu—no, not fucking—pretty darn cool.


Sean
smut fixes everything