Beau’s Baby, A New Sunset Club Book

Google+_SunsetClub Beau’s lying, cheating, son of a bitch, ex-boyfriend Beau has committed suicide after his wife, Meredith, dies in childbirth. He leaves the sickly baby, Isabella, to Jack. Jack has been dating Carlo and so far they’ve kept it casual. Can Carlo be in it for the long haul?

Blurb:

Right after Jack Romano killed in man in the line of duty, he found out that his bemoaned first love’s wife has died in childbirth and his ex-lover killed himself leaving the sickly newborn to Jack. Carlo Del Monte has been chasing Jack for nine months and sees the baby—Isabella, Bella for short—as an opportunity to get Jack in his house as well as his bed, permanently. The two of them set up housekeeping with the help of friends and Carlo’s big Italian family then little Bella ends up in the intensive care since she lacks immunity to childhood diseases because her mother was never vaccinated,

Can Jack and Carlo find their way in their new relationship? Partners, husbands, fathers? With the help of
family and friends, the two will form a strong bond and an even stronger family.

Excerpt:

BeausBaby_432Four Years Ago
“Beau, get your lazy ass out of bed. I have the afternoon off.”Jack Romano went to the fridge and grabbed a beer and with a smile in his voice he continued, “Unless, of course, that’s where you’d like us to spend our afternoon… Beau? Where are you? Beau?”

Jack walked back to the bedroom of his and Beau’s apartment following the sound of voices. Figuring it was one of the soccer team, Jack walked through the door and glanced around looking  for his man. He found him. Beau was fucking Meredith Simmons in their bed.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, Jack. I’ve been trying to tell you, but…” Beau got out of bed and started to dress.”Tell me what? What is this?” Jack’s voice broke. “This is a mistake. You’re gay. We’ve been together since high school.”

“Meredith, get dressed. We’ll be in the living room. Finish your beer, Jack.”
“No, I don’t want to fucking finish my beer. I want to know what’s going on.”

“No, I don’t want to fucking finish my beer. I want to know what’s going on.”
“It’s pretty straight forward, I’m in love with Meredith and I’m going to marry her.”

“It’s pretty straight forward, I’m in love with Meredith and I’m going to marry her.”
“Honey, I’m leaving so you can get this mess straightened out. Don’t let him corrupt you again.” Meredith let herself out, the door closing quietly behind her.

“Honey, I’m leaving so you can get this mess straightened out. Don’t let him corrupt you again.” Meredith let herself out, the door closing quietly behind her.
“How long?” Jack asked needing to know.

“How long?” Jack asked needing to know.
“Six months, maybe more.”

“Six months, maybe more.”
“But we made love yesterday.”

“But we made love yesterday.”
“We fucked yesterday. Let’s get down to business. Meredith and I would like this apartment so we’d appreciate it if you found somewhere else to live.”

“We fucked yesterday. Let’s get down to business. Meredith and I would like this apartment so we’d appreciate it if you found somewhere else to live.”
“No fucking way…it’s my name on the lease, and you’re the one who’s leaving.”

“You’ll be sorry you’re doing this. I was planning on seeing you on the side once Meredith and I are married. You know I love you but I can’t get ahead at work being a fag, I need a wife.”“No, you’re wrong. Gays are accepted everywhere. Please, we

“No, you’re wrong. Gays are accepted everywhere. Please, we can work this out.”

“We can’t. I won’t put my future in jeopardy.”

“You’re gay. You aren’t going to change that.”

“Actually, I’m bi.” Beau came up to put his arms around Jack.

“You love me. We’ll talk about all of this when I get back.”

Jack broke Beau’s hold and with tears streaming down his cheeks said, “Get the hell out of my apartment. You can move out tomorrow. I’ll sort out your things tonight.”

“You can’t do that.”

“As I said, my name is on the lease. Get the fuck out. You’re leaving me.”

“Jack, be reasonable, we can be together when I come home from the honeymoon. We’ll have to sneak around but—”

“Do you really think I’m capable of that? Helping you cheat? No, just no.”

“You’ll change your mind when I come home. I’ll be back.”

“Get the fuck out, get out of here, right now.” Jack’s voice broke again. Beau slammed the door on his way out. Jack sat down on the sofa that he and Beau picked out for the living room seven months ago, put his head in his hands and wept.

“Beau, Beau, how can I live without you? But I can’t be with you as long as you’re with her.”

Bobby and Keith’s House
Thursday in June, Four Years Later
Eight in the Morning

Jack was distraught when he came back to Bobby’s. Carlo was with him.

“They’re not doing anything to you because you shot Billy are they?” Reggie asked obviously worried. Reggie and Mark were staying with Bobby because of the fire.

“No, but any officer-involved shooting requires a hearing. The captain already called it a good shoot. The rest of the procedure is all technicalities…” Jack still had storm clouds over his face. He and Carlo sat down at the kitchen table and Marla poured them some coffee. Jack appeared dumbstruck.He finally blurted out, “Meredith died in childbirth three days ago.” Jack’s voice broke. “She had a little girl. Beau killed himself yesterday and left custody of the infant to me in a new will he made after Meredith died. They tried to contact me yesterday, but I was busy with the Billy business. I have to go sign paperwork at Social Services if I accept custody. No one has been there for

 

“There isn’t anyone else.” Jack’s shoulders shook.

“I have to go see her at the hospital if I accept custody. There is no family. If I don’t take her, she’ll go into the foster system. I have to make up my mind right away.”

“What?” Bobby screeched in anger.

“You heard me. Carlo came to my apartment when he heard about the shooting. He’s going to help me with the legal mess. I’ll take that security job with you, Keith, if the offer is still open. Now that I’m going to have a child, I need steady work that doesn’t require me to place my life on the line.”

“Of course, the offer is still open.” Bobby put his arm around Jack. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it. They’re holding a note for me from Beau at his lawyer’s office.”

“Do you need any baby things? I have Kitty’s things, although they’re not the best quality,” Jason offered.

“I have to get some stuff from their apartment. Meredith probably bought things for the baby. I’ll need to purchase a house. My apartment has only one bedroom.” Jack’s face scrunched up in worry.

“Do you need money?” Reggie asked.

“I don’t know Reg. I promise I’ll let you know.”

“The two bedroom across the street from us is for sale. It’s small, but there is plenty of property if you want to expand later,” Jason said. “Stella is going into Assisted Living.”

“I might be interested. Carlo needs to look at Beau’s finances. I’m going to visit her at the hospital now. They’re keeping her for a while, she’s underweight.”

“How much underweight?” Bobby asked.

“She weighs only three pounds even though she was full term. Although she’s finally breathing on her own and just started sucking the bottle, they told me she can’t go home yet. Meredith wasn’t eating much. She wanted to keep her figure,” Jack said, the disgust plain on his face.

Bobby’s jaw dropped. “What a bitch.”

“Carlo’s coming with me. The Billy mess is cleaned up, now I have one of my own.”

Bobby reached out and touched Jack’s arm. “You don’t have to take her. An infant girl is greatly prized on the adoption market. She’d get a home quickly.”

“I have to keep her. She’s all I have left of Beau. I’ve got to go,” Jack choked on a sob. He left with Carlo and the door closed behind them.

“Goddamn Beau, he’s sabotaging Jack’s relationships from the grave,” Jason cursed.

“It’s clear that he’s not going to change his mind about keeping her. Carlo was doing more than a flyby here. I wonder how he feels about this.” Keith poured more coffee.

“Not you, baby, you’re on medication, remember, Greg said limit your caffeine,” Reggie told Mark. “Have juice with Bobby.He’s on meds too.”

“We’ll all have to help him do this. The little girl is an innocent, she can’t help that her father was a lying, cheating, son of a bitch,” Bobby said eyes moving from Jason to Reggie.

“It isn’t like we haven’t taken care of little girls before, we have Kitty-cat. As far as Carlo is concerned, he was interested. We’ll find out how invested he is now. Let’s see how this all plays out.” Reggie moved to the sofa and sat down in a huff.

Bobby lifted his juice. “A toast to Billy’s fortunate demise. As for Beau, may he rest in peace, if that’s possible for a liar and acheat whose only good deed was offing himself?”

“Here, here…” They men clinked their coffee cups and glasses.

“We’ll know more about what Jack wants to do once he and Carlo will take care of the legalities,” Keith observed.

“I don’t know about you, but to me it looked like Carlo was all in,” Zach noted.

Jason’s face was rife with speculation. “I believe you’re right.”

 

Coming 6/19 – Remy’s Painter Excerpt Follows

Google_RemysPainterThe following is an excerpt from Remy’s Painter, the second book in the Werewolves of Manhattan Series. It will be released on June 19 from MLR Press and Amazon and All Romance shortly after that.

Prologue

Friday, the last week in April

The April rain drizzled down on Ian Sullivan as he stood over the caskets of his father and brother. They were killed in a car accident on their way home near an intersection by the Queens-Midtown tunnel. Ian didn’t think their deaths were an accident. His brother, William Thomas Sullivan, Junior, owed over a hundred grand in gambling debts to Salvatore Ferrara, a loan shark connected with the local mob. Sal and his minions roughed Billy up once or twice, but the last time they told him to either pay up or else. Billy was frightened and told Ian that he was going to ask their dad for the money. Ian could have told him how fruitless an endeavor that would be.

William Senior had refused and reported the transaction to the police. Their dad was with Billy when the accident occurred. The police labeled the accident as suspicious.

Worse, the mob still wanted their money even though his brother was dead. Sal showed up on Wednesday night at the wake. “You, kid, your brother owed me a hundred grand. Somebody needs to pay up, so I’ll be collecting from you.” Sal stared him down.

“I don’t owe you any money. Billy did, and now he’s dead.”

Sal shoved Ian against the wall. The funeral home was empty. Ian was the only family member left, so no help was forthcoming.

Ian was scared. “I don’t have any money. The house, the accounts, the business, it’s all caught up in probate.” Ian’s voice was thin, reedy.

“You must have some money, kid. You live at home, you work and have no expenses, I checked. You’re going to get the house and the business, take a mortgage, the interest on your deadbeat brother’s loan is accruing as I stand here admiring your pretty face. I want to be paid.” Not letting go, he squeezed Ian’s arm until Ian knew he was going to bruise badly. Then he went for Ian’s crotch. Ian rotated his hips out of the way of Sal’s hand.

“Billy owed you money. You say I have to pay Billy’s debt. I’ll try, but I don’t owe you that.”

“We’ll see.” Sal leered.

“Please, I told you, everything is in the courts. It will be two months before I see a dime. I don’t have any money. What I had, I spent on the funeral.” Ian started to shake.

Sal stepped back. Ian’s legs were rubbery. He almost fell to his knees.

“I tell you what, kid, I feel sorry for you. You come up with five grand by next Friday as a gesture of good faith.  I’ll wait for the rest until the house sells, but the chip keeps growing, so it better sell fast, or I’ll be taking it out in trade.” Sal put his hand around Ian’s neck and put some pressure on his larynx.

“I’ll be here on Friday, and you already know what will happen if I’m disappointed. I’ll take you instead of the money.”

Ian nodded his head like an automaton. “Friday, I’ll give it to you on Friday.” Sal left with his goons, and Ian sat down trembling with fear.

Ian was a house painter, just like his brother and father. All of their outstanding jobs were completed, and there was only one customer left that needed an estimate. Ian prayed he would get the job, or he would face Ferrara’s goons or worse, Ferrara himself. He didn’t know if he’d make it out alive because he refused to have sex with a man like Sal Ferrara.

Since he was only twenty-one and not his father’s favorite son, his salary from the business was a pittance. His father said he didn’t need more because he lived at home. Now, he was alone with no work scheduled in the coming weeks except the estimate he had to write up tomorrow. He tried to get money yesterday afternoon and was told by the bank that he couldn’t access the bank accounts even for the funerals, so that came out of his pocket.

Ian knew the job that needed the estimate required the type of custom work that very few painters could do. His ability was the reason his father kept him on the payroll after finding out Ian was gay. He was the only one who could work with frescos and faux finishes. He was Sullivan and Sons resident artist, and his artistry was the only reason they got upscale work. However, you would never have known that had you listened to his father complain about his youngest son.

“My son, the faggot,” was how his father referred to Ian. He hadn’t used Ian’s name once since he found out the truth. Billy was a gambler, a drunk, and sometime addict, but he was the good son. Now, because of Billy’s excesses, Ian had to sell the family home and rape the business to find enough money to pay his brother’s debts if he wanted to stay healthy and out of Sal’s clutches.

His father’s will left everything to Billy. Fortunately, he made no provision for the circumstance of Billy’s death. Despite his many flaws, Billy still loved his brother, and his will left everything to Ian. That, however, left everything in probate, and Sal still wanted his money.

He needed the new job, and he was going to have to do all the work himself because he couldn’t afford to pay a helper and still pay off Billy’s debts. He also needed the money to live on for two months and pay the loan shark. He wondered how he was going to eat.

As he threw dirt on both lowered caskets, inwardly, he cursed his brother for his stupidity and himself for not leaving his father’s business and striking out on his own three years ago when he first came out. If he didn’t get the job tomorrow, they would be digging his grave next because he wouldn’t become Sal’s boy toy.

 

Chapter One

Saturday, Last Week of April, Early Morning

Ian pulled up into the alley behind the address his father left. The house was huge. Ian surveyed the five stories plus a walk out basement. He desperately needed this job, and he didn’t think he had the chance of a snowball in hell once they found out there was only one painter instead of three.

His father paid him a pittance for the work Ian did for him. Most of the jobs the painting contractor bid on, they received because of Ian’s skills doing textured walls and custom paint. Ian wasn’t a martyr, however, and had been secretly collecting reference letters from customers who saw how hard he worked and watched his father treat him like shit on his shoes.

He had almost enough money to move out and had put out resumes to find other work before they both died, and now he was sucked into taking care of their affairs. Billy’s stupidity left him with no leeway. He had to get this job.

Gazing up again at the house, Ian sighed. Working by himself, the job would take him twelve to sixteen weeks if the house was empty and he could work twelve hour days, six days a week. And that was only if they wanted plain paint. If they wanted textures or faux finishes, it could take longer. He hoped like hell they didn’t want anything special and weren’t in a hurry, or he would surely lose the bid and maybe his ability to work if Sal Ferrara’s goons got him.

* * *

Rémy Clavier, the new second in command to the North American Council of Werewolves, sat in his new minimally furnished mid-Victorian townhouse on Columbia Heights in Brooklyn waiting for the painter. He bought the house when his friend the Chief Alpha of the council for all of the North American werewolves, Armand La Marche, requested that he take the position of COO of Garou Industries to replace the disgraced La Farge who was probably painting outhouses in Siberia at the tender mercies of the Russian council. So now Rémy, instead of commuting to council meetings from his pack lands in the Catskills for one week a quarter, had to be in New York City at the Garou corporate headquarters two weeks out of every month necessitating a city home.

When Armand first asked him to take the position, he told him, “Please, Alpha, I don’t want it.”

“That’s exactly why I want you to take it, my friend,” Armand said. “You’re not power hungry and will do the best job you can for our people rather than line your pockets and favor your own pack over the others.” Since Armand was one of his dearest friends, he acquiesced.

Armand had found his true mate, Sean, an Omega with the gift of the Voice. Sean and Armand were visiting all of the North American packs where Sean helped the bitches with childbirth because weres had difficult pregnancies and many stillborn pups. Sean’s gift eased the problems the bitches experienced with pregnancy and the birth. The Voice was the reason for most of the live births in the North American packs and the pups, once born, thrived.

Sean was a gifted potter, and he planned to study Native American pottery on their trip from pack to pack so Armand was basically on a yearlong honeymoon and when he returned, since he had a mate, he wouldn’t want to put in all the hours he used to work leaving Rémy to pick up the slack.

Rémy wished he was touring with them instead of staying in the Catskills and Brooklyn. He longed to find his true mate, and he thought touring the packs was the best way to find him.

“You can find your mate at anytime, anywhere,” Armand assured him.

Rémy raised his eyebrow at him dubiously. Armand laughed. “I found Sean on the street running away from a murderous Russian were.”

So far, Rémy hadn’t found his mate on pack lands in the Catskills or in the city. So here he sat, waiting for the painting contractor to give him an estimate to paint the walls of his seventy-eight hundred square foot home when he desperately wanted to be elsewhere.

The house overlooked Manhattan Harbor and was everything you could want in a house, but that was small compensation for Rémy, to give up his hunt for a mate for a five-story townhouse.

The real estate agent told him, “The kind of home you want is rare in the five boroughs and almost impossible to find in Manhattan.”

Rémy persisted. He needed a lot of bedrooms because unless he could buy houses nearby, his Betas would stay in the house with him along with Luc, his factotum, and his wife, Marie Claire who acted as his housekeeper. Luc and Marie Claire would need separate quarters with a sitting room and a full bath. His Betas had to have large bedrooms with a bath attached plus room for a television, an easy chair, and a king sized bed. Wolves were generally not small.

He wanted to be in Manhattan, but when the realtor showed him the house in Brooklyn, he fell in love on sight. If he had to stay in the city, he wanted it to be here. The house was beautiful, with seven bedrooms and eight full and three half baths. There were separate quarters for Marie Claire and Luc and rooms far enough away from his suite for the Betas to live their own lives. The house had a media room and wine cellar in the basement and there was a view of the bay and the Manhattan skyline from two terraces. After he closed on the house, Rémy found out that the rundown house next door was for sale, he bought it for his Enforcers. There were other smaller houses in the neighborhood for sale with four bedrooms each that he was in the process of purchasing so his Betas would eventually have their own homes and the excess bedrooms in his house could be used for visiting pack members or Alphas on the council.

Right now, he was staying in Alpha La Marche’s home in the Village, and he couldn’t wait to move out into his own space. The pack’s house in the Catskills, bought by his predecessor when he moved his headquarters to the Catskills from Quebec, didn’t feel like it was his although he’d lived there for sixty years.

The former Alpha took the main house as his own, modernized on the cheap, and added on to the guest cabins, so that most of the new pack that moved with the Alpha could stay together. He retired to Quebec at the age of four hundred and fifty, and Rémy, as the only Alpha in Training in his territory, took over the pack at a very young age.

As a wolf, he was young to be the Alpha of a region. Rémy was only seventy, but he was well trained for this job by the Chief Alpha himself. It was a tribute to Rémy’s acumen that he was asked to serve on the council as Alpha not only for his pack but also for the Northeastern Canadian and American packs at such young an age. He would have been content to stay as Alpha of the Catskill wolf pack and within his own territory, but destiny and the gods had other ideas. There was no one else to sit on the council and be in charge of the packs. Rémy was it.

Rémy sat in the kitchen. He heard Roland go to the front door only to find the painter had gone to the rear. The painter is here. He seems too young to be able to do such a large job. He’s at the kitchen door. He parked in the alley. Roland told him through the Alpha link.

I’ll answer the door and let him into the kitchen. Young or not, the company comes highly recommended.

Rémy opened the back door and stood by the stairs. Ian Sullivan stuck out his hand to shake Rémy’s. Rémy smelled green apples and cinnamon. They’re fingertips touched and Rémy’s inner wolf said, Mate—Mine.

Bull hates Twinks — Jaime is a Twink–Jaime wants Bull, Oh My

 

BullsWhip_432 (1)Bull’s Whip, the fourth novel in the BDSM Series, Indiscreet will be available from MLR Books and Amazon on January thirty-first.

Bull Raleigh is looking for a submissive, but he doesn’t want a twink; Jamie O’Hara is a beautiful raven haired twink who wants no one but Bull as his Master, oh my.

Bull Raleigh hates twinks since one outed him to his Marine Special Operations Commander before the end of DADT and lost him his officer’s rank, his career and his pension. Now he spends his time as the Dungeon Master at Indiscreet where Jamie O’Hara, a beautiful raven haired twink works as a house sub. Jamie wants Bull, Bull wants no part of Jamie. Bull’s nasty attitude gets Jamie involved with White Slavers with Bull as his only protection. It remains to be seen if Jamie can break down Bull’s barriers and make him see Jamie as a man, not a type.

Here is an excerpt:

Jim and Brian had tea every weekday morning at precisely ten. When Jim didn’t have to work, they were at his and Reed’s cottage; other days they spent Jim’s break in the kitchen at Indiscreet. Jaime stood in front of both men looking sheepish. This wasn’t the first time the ebony-haired twink had bothered Bull, the Dungeon Master of the exclusive club. Bull trained all the Masters and the subs or they couldn’t get through the door.

Jaime had finished training two months ago and his crush on the Dungeon Master was on its way to becoming legendary. Bull was looking for a sub and Jaime was determined to fill that position. The trouble was, Bull didn’t do twinks and Jaime looked like the textbook definition of the word. Jamie was five foot four inches to Bull’s six foot three. Jaime, although buff, was slender with the build of a runner while Bull had played as a linebacker at Annapolis and kept his body in peak condition. Jaime had hair as black as midnight, pulled back in a pony tail that reached his waist. Bull didn’t style his blond hair; he wore a military buzz cut.

Jamie’s big blue eyes and fair skin along with his slight build made him look as if he would blow away with a strong wind and misrepresented his true age of twenty-two. He looked sixteen on a good day, and on a bad one, nowhere-near-legal. Bull was thirty and had been a captain in the Marines who was outed by his lover before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed.  In that debacle, Bull lost his military career, his health care and his pension. Bull was a bitter man. This made him a very tough Master and few subs wanted to take him on, even the big, burly, ones that he favored.

When Jamie and the other new submissives were introduced to the club, there was another twink and two other men, Masato and Greg. Jamie knew that Bull made an offer for Greg. Luckily for Jamie, Greg wanted Cisco de Loria, and Bull didn’t offer for anyone else.

Despite that, Jaime O’Hara wanted Bull Raleigh as his Master with a ferocity that belied his looks and status as a service sub.

“Bull goes for a completely different type,” Brian tried to tell him as he helped Jim put the tea things away.

“You can’t make someone love you.”  Jim stood in front of Jamie, hands on his hip showing his exasperation.“More importantly, you can’t even make him like you. Bull doesn’t do twinks.” Brian put the cups and saucers in the rack to load into the dishwasher.

“But I’m not a twink…” Jamie claimed.

“Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, has duck feet…just saying,” Jim took  a kitchen wipe to the counter.

“I may look like a twink, but I’m not one. I can take pain. I’m not a pain slut; but I can take it. I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I have my own money, a legacy from my grandma. It doesn’t make me rich but it keeps me comfortable. Outside of the way I look, I meet none of the typical criteria for twinkdom.” Jamie said, getting in Jim’s face.

“All right, all right, but it’s not me you have to convince, it’s him and he can’t see past the way you look.” Jim sat down on his stool behind the counter.

“It’s not like I run after him, I just put myself in a position where he will notice me.”  Jamie’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “He’s noticed and complained. Reed and Bear haven’t paid any attention to his protests, but the club can’t afford to lose its Dungeon Master.” Jim sighed. “You’ll have to tone it down. There must be another way of getting him to notice you other than pushing yourself into his face every time you see him.” Jim leaned on the counter and put his hand under his chin.

“It’s not like we don’t want Bull to find someone, we do. Plus, we like you and don’t want to lose you either. But if it comes to a choice between the Dungeon Master and a service sub…well you know the answer to that.” Brian patted Jamie on the back.

“What if I join the club as a paying member? Would that make a difference?” Jamie asked thinking out loud. “It would prove I can pay the freight.”

“It would, but it would also leave you unemployed and unless your legacy was very large, it won’t keep you very well in New Jersey and living off it is the surest way to lose it. You never touch the principal. You live off the interest and if there isn’t enough interest, you work. Unless you want to do something else for a living…” Brian’s voice trailed off.

“I have a degree in accounting. I can do something else for a living, but I wouldn’t be able to see Bull every day.” Jamie said cocking his head to the side.

Brian abruptly stood up and paced, “I have an idea. Wasn’t Reed complaining the club was doing so well he couldn’t keep up with the paperwork?”

“Yeah,” Jim sat up, waggled his eyebrows and drank his tea, “I’ve had to listen to him complain for over six months.”

“Stop that, just stop with the eyebrow. You know it annoys me because I can’t do it.” Brian plopped back down on the stool.

Jamie giggled. “Getting back to what you were saying about Reed…”

“Jim, why don’t we suggest to Reed that Jamie act as his assistant?  If Jamie can do the books and relieve Reed of the general paperwork, Reed could manage the club more efficiently.” Brian was excited.

“You’re right. Then if Bull complains, Reed and Bear would have an excuse not to listen. You’d get paid more money and on top of that have more time to work on Bull.” Jim tapped his fingers on the counter.

“This could really work; but you still have to get Bull to like you, never mind collaring you.” Brian observed with asperity. He got up and moved around the counter to start the dishwasher.

“Both Bear and Reed are upstairs. You stay with Brian, Jamie. I’ll go up and see what I can do about a new position for you.” Jim pushed open the swinging door of the kitchen and went upstairs.

****

Bear was drinking his Kona coffee and eating blueberry muffins from Greg’s recipe. Reed sat behind his desk with papers stacked all around him. “Bear, we have to get someone to handle the paperwork. I’ve got to deal with the new members and running the club, I don’t have the time to fill out the proper government forms, do payroll and taxes.”

Reed looked up to find Jim standing at the door. “Master, I think I have an answer for you.”

“…so we give Jamie the job as our accountant. He’ll still have access to Bull but won’t be able to bother him constantly. I talked to Jamie. Even though he looks like a twink, he’s not. If Bull could get over Jamie’s size and looks, they’d be a good fit.”

Bear scratched his chin. “Jim said the kid was going to quit and join as a paying member? He must have some money. Membership here is cheaper for subs but still costs a pretty penny. Does he have his own funds? Bull’s got a thing about his sub being a leech.”

“He has a legacy from his grandmother— that and working keeps him what he calls comfortable. He was willing to spend the legacy and risk unemployment to get Bull to pay attention and if we hire him as the accountant, membership would be included. May I sit, Master?”

“Go ahead, Jim. I’m interested. Bull is short with everyone since he lost his bid for Greg. It’s not like he was in love with the man, just that Greg was the type that Bull thought he wanted. Thank God that Bull knows enough to stay away from Greg now that Cisco has him. Cisco has turned out to be one jealous son of a bitch.” Bear said sipping his coffee.

“Yeah, who whoda thunk?” Jim remarked with sarcasm but ruined the effect by giggling.

“I figured he would be. He is proprietary about the hospital, what made you think he would be any different about someone he came to love? In fact, with a lover, it’s worse. I should know. Seeing you with that Caleb character set my teeth on edge.” Reed got up and started going through the papers.

“What do we pay him?” Reed asked Bear. “The club is doing well. I don’t want to cheap out but I don’t know the going rate.”

“I can find out from Mavis how much we currently pay junior accountants and we’ll add ten percent. Does that sound reasonable?” Bear finished his coffee and put the cup and saucer on the coffee table between the chairs.

“Call her, Bear. Now that Jim came up with the idea; I find myself anxious to get rid of all of this.” Reed swept his arm over the papers. “Although we have a problem; we only have one room to use as an office and it’s right next to Bull’s lair.”

Bear doubled over in laughter. “That’s perfect.”

I hope you enjoyed reading the excerpt pick up Bull’s Whip along with the rest of the Indiscreet Series, A Matter of Trust, Jack’s Back and Cisco’s Boy from MLR Books and Amazon.com.

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Shattered Glass Released in Paperback & other Big Stuff

Shattered Glass is now available in paperback…


Shattered Glass is now available in paperback from Captiva Press at www.captivapress.com; Barnes and Noble at www.barnesandnoble.com and at amazon.com.

I’m so happy to be able to share Milo and Liam’s love story with all readers.

I’m very late blogging. (Blush and apology). The reason is twofold.  The third week of November I went back to visit my nine grandchild scattered over New Jersey and Pennsylvania.  They sent Grams home with hugs, kisses, gifts and bronchitis. Up until today I was coughing, wheezing, had chills, shakes, fevers.  Today I’m finally promoted to the chair with cough and wheeze.  Thank you doctors and nurses at the Presbyterian Health Center in Rio Rancho, ER.  Until they took care of me my husband feared I would cough hard enough to bring up a toe!

Today is a special day for the Southern United States.  It is the day that South Carolina seceded from the Federal Union.  Today there are parades celebrating States Rights as the issue that caused the war, despite the fact the the secession document mentioned Slavery nineteen times.  Hmmm – history re-write?

Another interesting piece of news, the survey from the members of the US Military came back overwhelmingly positive in favor of gay soldiers and the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.  Despite the fact that the courts have spoken, the joint chief of staff has spoken, the congress and the president has spoken and the service members themselves have spoken, John McCain is calling for a do-over.

Since the Senate is still braying for us to wait to,  despite the majority of the voting public really want the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, the senate is merely braying their own bigotry out loud. Didn’t their mothers’ teach them how to play nice with other children. Or did Mr. McCain and company spring straight from the head of Medusa like snakes in the grass.