Release Date: You Always You by ME

Title: You. Always You

Author: ME

Genre: M/M Romance, Adult Romance

Release Date: September 15, 2020

Publisher: Perin

Summary:
Whatever happened in your past, did not happen. And I am your only future.

I am obsessed with you; you’re obsessed with me.

You hurt me to comfort me.
You break me to put me back together.
And I do the same to you.

I am addicted to you; you’re addicted to me.

You told me this would be a bad idea.
You warned me of the heartache.
And I did it anyway.

I like you; you like me.

When I see you, my sun rises.
When I see you, it is summer in Berlin.
When I see you, I can still hear us laugh.
But I wasn’t gonna go, and you weren’t gonna stay.
I wonder if your heart aches when you see me.
I wonder if your sun rises when you see me.
I wonder if you smile …
And if you do, will you stay?
Or will I go?

You. Always You. is a steamy 44k vignette about a toxic love story between two men. It features elements of romance, humor, hurt/comfort, a dash of violence, mild age play, and Daddy play. Approach with caution. You’ve been warned.

My little puppy
I frown down at you while you stare up at me with your big, dark puppy eyes. “What are you still doing up? It’s past eleven.”

“I was waiting for you, Daddy.”

I smirk, like I’d fall for that. “You know the rules.”

“No, really!” Suddenly, your voice sounds almost childish. You’ve turned little right in front of me. You push your laptop carelessly off to the side and blink up at me. “I was waiting for you, Daddy.” You jump up to stand, hands going for my shirt.

I shake my head, “Uh-uh.” I know your games, your excuses. You’ve been watching something on your laptop and lost track of time. It’s always the same … the longer you stay up, the longer you’ll sleep in. Or not sleep at all. It’s not good for you, which is why we have the 10 p.m. bedtime rule.

“Daddy,” you whine, fingers curling in my shirt to pull at me. You can tell that I’m disappointed, yet you lie once more, “I was waiting for you. I cannot sleep without my Daddy …”

I stand still, watch your well-practiced innocent act play across your face and then reach down to unclasp your fingers from my shirt. “Take off my sweater.” Your eyes grow wide as I say that. I usually love seeing my clothes on you. Especially when we’re around other people. “Take it off.”

“But—”

“Now,” I growl, snapping my fingers as if that would make you move faster. It doesn’t.

Instead, you keep arguing. “I’ll be cold!”

“I said … Take. It. Off.”

“Why …?” you mumble as you finger the seam of the long sweater; it’s black and warm.

“You don’t deserve it.” I can hear the whine emanate from your throat, spilling past your lips. I could spank you. I could forbid you to watch any movies next weekend, but instead, I choose this. It’s a greater punishment for you to shed something that so clearly marks you as mine. “I’m taking it back.”

“No, no, you cannot do that!” You lunge forward again, tugging at my shirt while I stand above you like a statue. Tall and imposing. “You gave it to me, Daddy. It was a gift.”

“I take it back.” A pained sound escapes your lips, unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes turn glossy. It pains you, deeply. But it also angers you, I can feel it simmer below the surface.

“Fine,” you snap.

“Fine what?” I probe as you take a step back, still not taking off my sweater. In fact, you cross your arms like a petulant child.

“I watched something on Netflix because I didn’t want to go to sleep,” you admit, mumbling every word; it’s almost adorable. But mostly amusing.

“There you go,” I say and sit down on the couch while you still stand beside it. You turn back to look at me over your shoulder, arms still crossed.

“I am keeping the sweater,” you announce; it makes me chuckle. I am already thinking about how I can punish you. This is always the best part. Punishing my little puppy.

“You lied to me. Liars must be punished.” Shuffling on your feet, you move to face me completely, the sleeves of my sweater covering your hands because you pulled them all the way down.

“But-but I confessed ...”

I arch an eyebrow and shake my head at you, “Not good enough.” A few moments tick by before I tell you to kneel. You kneel. I order you to take off my shoes, you do that too.

I always enjoy watching you down there, between my feet, placing my shoes neatly below the coffee table. Like I’ve trained you to do. The first time you’d just tossed them aside. Bad little puppy. No more sloppiness.

Author Bio:
M.E. are the initials of the two men who’ve created this story. One being the writer, the other being the muse.

Their story is brought to you by Perin from Quin & Perin.

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Release Blitz: Broken News by Sara Dobie Bauer

Title: Broken News

Author: Sara Dobie Bauer

Genre: M/M Romance, Mafia, May/December

Release Date: August 22, 2019

Cover Design: Quin Perin

Summary:
He was supposed to hurt him. Ruin him. Instead, he fell in love.

In the big, bad city, Eric West holds the reins. A mafia king, he is feared, ruthless, and obsessed with a man half his age.

Will, his favorite whore, is young, beautiful, and the only person to ever bring him to his knees.

Will is a man to kill for.

A man to change for.

But what if Will isn’t what he seems?

***Broken News is a standalone M/M romance featuring age gap, detailed adult content, violence, hurt/comfort, and mentions of rape/dubious consent.***

Miss Catherine paused. “He’s been waiting,” she whispered and walked away. The only evidence of her presence was the sound of velvet dragging on carpet as she disappeared barefoot, back to her other guests.

The rest was up to Eric. Of course he’d flown first class from London but hoped he didn’t smell too much like airplane upholstery and cheap wine. He straightened his tie and adjusted his suit. He ran the palms of his hands over his slick, blond hair and took one long, deep breath before opening the door.

The room was as he imagined, cast in shadows of firelight, and a man stood facing the front window. He had the edge of a heavy curtain raised as he stared into the city’s night. At the sound of the door closing, the man turned—if he could be considered a man. He more resembled a wide-eyed teen, but beautiful, so very beautiful.

Eric sighed, smiled, and shook his head. “My God,” he said.

Dark eyes appraised him. “I could say the same.”

They both took steps forward, which brought Eric’s new whore further into the orange light. Pressed to guess an age—and knowing Le Chateau only hired whores at least twenty-one or older—Eric guessed twenty-two at most. He wore the body and face of a youth but bearing of a confident man. His hair was black—short on the sides, long on top—and shined with the midnight luster of a thoroughbred’s flank. His eyes were shining, dark pools in the firelight but probably brown in the sun. He had high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and skin the color of untouched morning snow. Despite the poised demeanor, he was small in stature and frame, dressed in a black suit Eric imagined had been sewn for him, stitch by invisible stitch. Despite all the young man’s beautiful accouterments, it was his mouth that deserved worship, possibly idols built: a mouth so full, lush, and decadent, Eric was already half hard.

He stepped into the stranger’s space, towering almost a foot above the young whore, and opened the man’s suit coat. Eric ran his palms over slim sides and thumbed at the tops of jutting hipbones. Then, Eric bent forward with his mouth half open and sucked one wet, gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He smelled like spicy cologne and scotch.

“What’s your name?” He ran the tip of his nose over the stranger’s earlobe.

“Will,” he said.

“My name is Eric.”

“I know.”

Eric pulled back enough to see a small smile on Will’s face. His teeth were white and perfectly, perfectly straight.

“You must have cost a lot of money,” Eric said.

Will stepped forward and rubbed his nose across Eric’s carved chin. He practically breathed his response into Eric’s mouth: “And worth every penny.”

With that mouth so close, Eric was done talking. He slid one of his hands behind Will’s head and took hold to the back of his neck. His thumb was lost in soft black hair as he pulled Will even closer until their lips met. Eric moved slowly and savored the pliant softness. Will opened his mouth and allowed Eric’s tongue inside. Not only did he smell like scotch but tasted like it, too—something expensive with a lingering edge of vanilla. Eric’s other hand went to Will’s lower back and pressed their bodies together, which earned him a deep, delightful moan from his new toy.

Author Bio:
Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, mental health speaker, and LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she lives in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is author of the Bite Somebody series and Escape Trilogy, among other sexy things.

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Release Blitz: Wanderlust by Quin & Perin

Title: Wanderlust: Bundle

Authors: Quin & Perin

Series: Wanderlust #2

Genre: M/M Romance

Release Date: August 13, 2019

Summary:
Please check the warning section inside the book.

I knew all the regulars. I knew their drinks. Their complaints. I knew everything that went on in this little town. But they didn't know me.

And I didn’t know him.

Momma always told me to be kind to others, so I didn’t even think twice when I invited him into my house, into my life, my heart.

I was happy being alone, until I wasn't.

Little did I know that once you get a taste of happiness, nothing will ever taste the same. Especially when it is taken away.

***WANDERLUST is a slow burn romance, featuring hurt/comfort and friends-to-lovers elements as well as detailed adult m/m content

Juste
Every day here was the same. Al came to the bar at the same time, the same exhaustion clinging to his body. He sat on the same seat. Drank a shot and two beers. He asked how I was doing, not expecting a real answer, and then I asked how his family was, not expecting a real answer. He didn't tell me that his daughter was struggling out in the city. Wouldn't mention the rumors of her doing less than savory things for cash. He wouldn't mention that boy of his, the trouble he'd gotten into. And he wouldn't mention how Sally was really doing. Pale and weak. Growing frailer by the day.

Just like Sally wouldn't say anything when she stopped by. She'd wear one of her good floral print dresses and a sun hat. Her blond, thinning hair tucked back in a low bun, and she'd have a basket slung over her arm. She'd smile at the men in the bar, her blue eyes bright despite the dark circles under them. Talk to her husband's friends, sweet as pie and light as cotton. Then she'd come up to the bar and ask for a glass of water before promptly presenting me with several jars of jam.

Sometimes it felt like I was living in a TV show on repeat, the tape getting more and more worn out as it played over and over again. It had been like this ever since I came back to town fourteen years ago when my father got sick. No one had changed. Nothing had changed. Same songs on the jukebox. Same people wandering through life. Rare excitement. It was peaceful, and it was mind-numbingly dull at the same time.

Al finished his first beer, and I grabbed the bottle, tossing it in the trash before grabbing him another. My bottle opener came out of my pocket, and I slid it across to him. “I think I'm fixin' to head up into town this next weekend,” I told him casually. My one escape was driving nearly two hours to the nearest big city every two or three months. Usually, I'd try to be helpful when I could. Pick up things that people needed and promised to pay me back for. They often didn't, and I never brought it up.

With a nod, he leaned back on his stool and groaned. “I think we're good on everythin' right now, but I'll ask the missus when I get home.”

I flashed him a smile before turning away to give him his peace. There wasn't much to do in the bar. Al was my only customer at the moment, and it wasn't likely to get much busier. On the weekends it was more lively. I'd play music, and some people would get drunk enough to dance. For now, though, it was the two of us.

I was kneeling below the bar when I heard the door open again, and I popped up, expecting a familiar face. It was not. The man who walked in the door was...a stranger. In the best possible way. Not like anyone I'd ever seen in a small town. Damn near took my breath away.

Light eyes, so light that it was hard to tell their color in the dimly lit room, glanced around with ease. One hand was hooked in the back pocket of a pair of faded jeans, the other holding onto the strap of a backpack that looked ready to burst. My stranger was tall. Bout as tall as me. Body sturdy. Shoulders wide. His complexion was darker than mine, darker than anyone else in the town. Not entirely black but more than tan. Soft and smooth with an almost golden glow. Black hair was curly, and there was several days growth of beard across a sharp jaw, but it did nothing to hide his full lips. If he'd been a bit cleaner, he would have looked like someone from the movies. As it was there was a couple days worth of dust on his clothes to match the beard. And his eyes drooped faintly. Like he'd been traveling a long time. Despite the way he looked, I recognized him. Recognized his skin. A hitchhiker. Going to somewhere or away from something.

Long limbs loose, like he had no cares in the world, he headed toward the bar, mine and Al’s eyes fixed on him as he lowered himself onto a stool a couple spaces over. His bag was set on the floor by his feet.

Those lips twitched into a crooked half-grin. “Howdy,” he said. His voice seemed to shake the room. Deep as thunder yet smooth as cream. It made the skin prickle on the back of my neck, warmth flushing through me.

“Well, hey there, stranger.” I didn't know how I managed to find my voice, but I did, heading over to him and placing my hands on the counter in front of him. “What can I get ya?”

His tongue ran over his lips, and he looked around, at the small display of bottles behind me. “You don't happen to have any food here, would ya?” he asked. “Didn't see anywhere else open on my way through town.”

“Nah. No food here,” I admitted. “Just lots of drinks for whatever ails ya.”

A low chuckle and he shrugged his shoulders. “My empty stomach is ailin’ me right now. More than my thirst. You wouldn’t happen to know any place ‘round here that would be open?”

Shaking my head, I put on an apologetic smile. “Fraid not, everywhere closed up early,” I informed him. “Heck, it's bout near my closing time too.” I usually shut everything up once Al was gone.

“Ah, all right.” His shoulders slumped faintly, but that easy smile didn't fade from his lips. Poor fella was trying to be positive, but it couldn't have been easy with an empty belly.

One thing that I had learned from my daddy that I took to heart was the need to help your fellow man. My daddy was a mean drunk, but he never hesitated to help someone who needed it. When he was sober, he could have given Jesus a run for his money. God rest his soul. People ‘round town liked to joke that I was like him because of that, which was fine by me. I wasn't much likely to turn someone away if they needed a hot meal.

I tapped my fingers against the bar and shrugged my shoulders. “If you ain't got nowhere to be, I'll be closing in ‘bout thirty or so, and I've got a stew simmering at home,” I said. “If ya want.”

Author Bio:
As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels. Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that will leave you full and satisfied.

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Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Rich Kids by Quin & Perin

Series: Rich Kids #1 & 2

Author: Quin Perin

Genre: M/M Romance, Taboo, Dark Elements, Dub Con

Release Dates: #1 - April 17, 2019

#2 - July 11, 2019

👀RICH KIDS is a forbidden love romance, featuring

enemies to lovers as well as detailed adult m/m content👀

Rich Kids #1
Summary:
Please check the warning section inside the book.

What if someday you wake up and the one person you can’t have is the one you want the most?

My name is Nathaniel Preston. Second son of the Preston estate.

I've been raised to be perfect, to be ahead of every game, not to do wrong. Sem, my crass and vain older half-brother, is the complete opposite of me. All he seeks is his next high. To get there, he cheats, blackmails, and seduces.

Which wouldn't be a problem, if one day he didn't decide to tape me in a very compromising position...

Rich Kids #2

Summary:

I am Semuel Preston, eldest son of the Preston estate.

I have cut all cords to my family except for him: Nate. He is the only good thing to come from the Preston name. He’s the sun to my sky, the apple of my eye. And a thousand miles away. Still, I bring him to his knees. I am his King. His God. Forever?

PART 1
With a last drag on my cigarette, I pushed the door to the kitchen open. And once I did, silence broke. I could hear something. Sounds that sparked flames inside my gut, twitching to life. The kitchen’s old chimney was connected to the one on the upper level, the one in father’s bedroom.

I heard moans, grunts; I heard furniture move, scrape across the hardwood floor. Goosebumps spread across my skin, making me forget what I was here for. I put out my cigarette and tossed the rest of it into the sink. Someone was fucking in his house, in our father’s bedroom. I just had to find out who.

With a grin in place, I took off, back down the hallway, up the stairs. I used the railing to pull myself up faster. I felt like a child, so fucking excited that my mind raced to all kinds of options. Perhaps it was one of our maids or the gardener. But Jesus, in my father’s bed? That was quite bold. I loved it. So forbidden. So taboo. My favorite kind. I couldn’t stop grinning as I headed down the hallway to his bedroom. My heart thundered in my chest as my hand closed around the door handle. I counted to three, listening in on the lewd noises that were so much clearer now. So much louder. Unhinged. Like in a really dirty dream. Or a porno.

In one quick move, I yanked the tall door open, and my heart almost stopped. Jesus Fucking Christ. There were three men in the middle of the bed. Two blonds, lean, tanned, on either side of...Nate.

PART 2
I needed Nate, and he needed me.

To breathe, to stay somewhat sane. Which was funny because before we began seeing each other, we’d both been running around like headless chickens. Or cocks? Roosters. Anyway. Now, almost two years later, we’d settled into a routine. Something I thought I would hate. Routine. But with him, it was never predictable. Never boring. Nate kept me on my toes. Ever the brat I left behind. And while he’d begged me not to go and called me crazy for telling him to fuck other guys, I knew better. Nate was a cockslut. Mycockslut, but one nonetheless. He would venture out eventually, most likely when we were fighting, which happened rather frequently. Then he'd fuck around and crawl back on his hands and knees when he was done — begging for forgiveness.

It was how he worked. How he functioned.

He loved sex, but he craved the control he could gain from it.

To hurt me. To make me mad. To be the hunter, not the prey.

So, I figured, I’d best give him rules, make it less taboo, a game we both played, before he could act out and destroy both of us in the process. He was allowed to fuck anyone if (1) he told me about it, (2) live streamed or recorded it, and (3) played safe. No one was going bare with him. No one.

Author Bio:
As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels. Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that will leave you full and satisfied.

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Rich Kids #1

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Rich Kids #2

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