Las Vegas is a special brand of crazy. Some say it’s the intense desert heat that triggers the madness. Others say it’s the promise of gambling riches or the lure of decadent pleasures.
Known the world over as Sin City, the party never ends, but neither does the threat to the public. The uniformed men who are charged with keeping the city and its inhabitants safe are unique to the challenge.
Firemen, police officers, SWAT, paramedics, CSI, military—they all band together to make sure the job gets done. Join them as they work hard, brave danger and love with a fierce abandon
Negotiating Love #5
Summary:
Can the kinky billionaire owner of Dark Fantasy Resort Casino capture the heart of a muscled SWAT officer with a secret fetish?
SWAT Team Hostage Negotiator, Steve, wonders why he can’t stay away from the spoiled rich Allistair, owner of Dark Fantasy Resort Casino. They have mutual kinks - ones Steve can’t find with other lovers—but there’s something else about the emotionally detached, beautiful man that calls to him.
Billionaire Allistair stays alone in his luxury penthouse apartment at the top of Dark Fantasy, terrified of the real world and of opening himself up to genuine emotions. He takes lover after lover, all of them allowing him to do whatever he wants to their bodies, in the hopes that they can scam something from him.
One night is all he ever shares with a plaything—he knows they only want the money and luxury he can offer them and nothing more. But the down to earth Steve is different. They share the same kinks and are explosive when together. But could the muscled law officer ever want more than the lust-filled encounters that have become such an addiction?
As they grow closer, they discover they also have to find a balance between Steve’s everyday world and Allistair’s entitled world before they can truly find an ever after. They also have to make sure Allistair stays safe. Filthy rich playboys are too tempting to those who seek the ultimate payday—and who aren’t afraid of hurting someone to get it.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of BDSM and fetishism.
Searching for Shelter #6
Summary:
Teen shelter volunteer Rich searches for love until Diego, from LVMPD Search and Rescue, finds him.
After declaring his love life officially dead, Rich wonders if maybe he should stick with his shifter book boyfriends instead. It’s not as if he has much free time to date anyway. Between working long hours at a coffee shop, guarding his sodas from his hygienically challenged roommates, and running the programming at the Vegas LGBTQ teen shelter he founded—how could there ever be space for love in his life?
Diego Espinoza enjoys taking his downtime from working Search and Rescue, at the Lucky Cup coffee shop. He can set up his laptop, peruse good sport climbing spots and observe the blond barista he’s been pining over for a while. He imagines that the pretty boy has more offers than he knows what to do with, so it takes Diego time to work up the nerve to approach him.
Rich isn’t so sure about the rough looking Diego—even if he’s always thought he was hot—but once he decides to gives Diego a chance, there’s an immediate heat and connection that takes him by surprise. As they learn more about each other and try to find the way to a future together, strange and scary things start to happen.
It isn’t until Rich is injured in a bizarre accident that it becomes clear that there’s someone out there who not only doesn’t want Rich to find love—they want him dead.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of light bondage.
Strip Search #7
Summary:
A sexy stripper attempts to escape his dangerously obsessed boss while searching for his missing younger brother.
Stripping used to be fun, lucrative and a place for Dakota to practice for his professional dancing career. But the owner of Glitter Boys wants Dakota for himself and will stop at nothing to possess him. When his thirteen-year-old brother runs away from home to escape their abusive father, Dakota is determined to find him before something awful happens to him on the streets.
Patrol officer Reed hasn’t been attracted to a man in a very long time, but when he’s called to an assault in progress at the LGBTQ teen shelter, a young man approaches him, begging for help in finding his missing brother. An instant spark occurs, but he pushes it away. When the same man is attacked outside a strip club later that night, he discovers the desire is mutual.
As the two men learn more about each other and become closer, the specter of his obsessed ex-boss remains. In addition to that, Dakota has to fight the system to gain guardianship of his brother and keep him out of foster care. Dakota doesn’t know if the hunky cop he’s fallen so hard for can handle a relationship with an ex-stripper struggling to raise a teenager. But, will Reed be able to give up dating women for good and dedicate himself to their new family?
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of sexual intimidation, scenes of mild physical assault and threats of sexual violence.
Publisher's Note: This book can be read as part of a series or as a standalone novel.
Negotiating Love #5
“Mr. Richmond requests your presence. If you would follow me, sir?”
Steve arched his eyebrows, careful to turn his head slowly to face the voice that had resounded next to his ear. The cacophony of the dance beats in the club made normal conversation impossible, so the bulky form of one of Allistair’s bodyguards stood very close. Too close. The man’s arms were crossed and his bland expression implacable. Like all of Allistair’s staff at the Dark Fantasy resort casino, the guard was impeccably dressed in what was no doubt a ridiculously expensive black suit. Steve idly wondered what the man thought about trolling for Allistair’s playmates.
Whatever.
Steve gave the guard a curt nod then followed him through the dense crowd, most of them moving to the rhythm of the driving music. The blackness of the large club was punctuated by swirling lasers and the bright lights illuminating nearly naked men and women gyrating in sparkling cages. It was a place Steve could get lost in, get swallowed up by the crowd and the noise and the dark and let the sensual energy carry him away.
It was the perfect respite from the events of the day before when he’d almost lost a young man determined to fall to his death from the top of the Trump International Hotel. He’d thought his fellow SWAT team member and best friend Cole had fucked it out of him. He’d been wrong.
How does Allistair always manage to spot me in the crush of people?
It’d been at least a couple of months since he’d even been by the club. After his last encounter with Allistair, he’d promised himself to stay away for good. Despite the fact that the powerful casino owner had made it clear that he only wanted sex from Steve, there’d been something about him. He was that indescribable mix of harsh and soft, salty and sweet. There was no point in getting wrapped up in someone who only wanted the occasional fuck.
When the near suicide he’d negotiated the day before wouldn’t stop plaguing him, his first thought had been of Allistair. Being a hostage negotiator—as well as a patrol officer for LVMPD—was a constant stress-fest and somehow, the usual release he got from Cole hadn’t been enough. It was odd, considering that Allistair was essentially a stranger. For whatever reason, he’d yearned for him when the need to purge his demons became too unbearable. He counted himself lucky that Allistair apparently had the ability to spot him after all.
And that he’s still interested.
The guard unlocked a door that was almost invisible unless one knew it was there. It was located near the main elevators, but blended in with the blood-red and gold velvet flecked wallpaper. Like the previous times he’d been invited to be Allistair Richmond’s entertainment for the evening, Steve knew the private lift would open up on the top floor where his lover for the night lived.
Steve chuckled, which garnered a sideways glance from the typically stoic guard.
I wonder if Allistair actually is a vampire.
It would be too perfect. He dressed the part, had the mannerisms. Detached, unemotional, elegant and sexy as fuck—he’d make the ideal Dracula.
Steve mused as to whether his appearance was how he’d gotten the idea for the theme of his casino, or if he’d matched his look to it instead. Dark Fantasy had a gothic ambience that played to the vampire theme alongside allusions to Edgar Allen Poe, fallen angels and wicked fairies. It was unique within the equally unique Sin City. Allistair had certainly struggled to get the resort casino opened. When it had initially been under construction, it had been the target of a crazed group of vigilantes purportedly cleansing the city of immorality. They’d attempted to burn it down, but the damage had been minimal. The same group had also tormented the rest of the city over the span of a few months.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a large foyer boasting black marble floors, solid red walls and grand gold urns overflowing with what appeared to be black ferns. Two more beefy guards flanked the locked entrance to Allistair’s residence. Steve worked hard to control a smirk.
How do these guys manage to take all of this so seriously?
If Allistair hadn’t been the most amazing fuck ever, Steve would’ve mocked the whole thing and told the guy to go find another bottom to play sex toys and bondage with. The stray thought nagged at him. It was possible he was lying to himself to keep from being too disappointed if Allistair were to tire of him for good. Something spoke to him about Allistair, made him want to know more than what the man could do with his amazing dick and talented tongue.
Steve wasn’t like his fuck buddy, Cole. They’d been best friends for over fifteen years—ever since their days in the military. But unlike Cole, who claimed he needed to wait until he was off the force for the real thing, Steve was ready to walk away from the casual nights. He was ready for someone he could build a life with.
Being enamored of certain kinks had made it difficult for him, however. Not all of his proclivities were what would typically be associated with someone as big and built as he was. He’d lost more than one long-term relationship prospect that way when a potential partner would assume he’d be a take charge top in bed. Allistair was a perfect match for him sexually—the only man other than Cole who’d ever tripped all his triggers. Unfortunately, his expressed interest in the occasional fuck was only at Allistair’s discretion, and not what Steve ultimately wished for anyway.
So what the fuck am I doing here?
The man who’d led him out of the club held up a hand for him to wait. Steve pressed his lips together. He liked being told what to do by a lover—as a matter of fact, it turned him way the fuck on. But Allistair’s hired guns always got under his skin for some reason. It wasn’t anything he could specifically point to—just that there was a manner to them that suggested they thought Steve was the same as a rent boy—not worthy of any real consideration. Then again, Steve imagined that Allistair likely procured some of his lovers that way and that most of the rest were there to see what they could scam off the unbelievably rich casino owner.
He let out a low sigh, refocusing his thoughts on what deliciously perverse things Allistair might have in store for him that evening.
The guard who’d led him to the penthouse gestured from the open door for him to come inside. Steve’s first inclination had been to make a snide remark about the lack of verbal communication. As a negotiator for SWAT, he was all about the need for properly voiced exchanges. He reminded himself that he was there to get fucked by a virtual stranger, not teach someone how to interact appropriately with other human beings.
He passed by the guard with no acknowledgment, and entered Allistair’s home. It was still breathtaking even though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. The expansive space was all glass on one side, the night-time view of the overwhelming neon lights of the Strip spectacular. The rest of the main area was done in elegant black and white, with the occasional splash of red. A crystal vase, a few throw pillows, an original painting of skeleton Day of the Dead lovers, scattered roses.
Steve had first been invited to Allistair’s private lair on opening night of Dark Fantasy’s Club Seduction. It’d been wild, insane. Cole had been out on a date—Steve had had no idea with who, which was all fine and part of their arrangement—but he’d been horny and bored. He’d wanted something outside the realm of what he usually did. Somehow, Allistair had found him and invited him upstairs for a night of incredible debauchery. He grinned to himself, his cock stirring with interest at the memory of some of the dirty activities they’d shared together.
“It’s good to see you again, Steve.”
Searching for Shelter #6
“Uh, thanks anyway. But I’m just going to go inside now.”
Rich’s third—no, maybe second—worst date of all time attempted to shove his hand down Rich’s pants. Again.
“No means no, asshole.”
The air whooshed out of Rich as Jay slammed him against the door of the small house that Rich rented with two other guys.
Where’s Frank when I need him?
One glimpse of the big bruiser’s ponderous bulk typically had most men coming to the conclusion that Rich wasn’t that cute. Not that Rich was a total wimp, but despite being pretty tall, he was lean. He’d also been attracting an unusual amount of desperate, grabby men with horndog testosterone strength lately.
Rich continued struggling to keep Jay’s fingers from traveling any farther than a couple of inches past his belt and into the danger zone. The guy was determined. Rich’s pants were tight as fuck. Jay had been placing wet, sloppy kisses—that Rich figured were supposed to turn him on—up and down his neck while he persistently searched for gold.
Is that the bleu cheese from the burger he ate that’s on his breath?
“Seriously. Get offa me!”
Furious and more than over it, Rich shoved Jay back as hard as he could. Something seemed to have permeated Jay’s lizard brain, because he stepped off.
“What’s your problem?”
“My…?” Rich huffed and crossed his arms angrily. “Oh my God. Just go.”
Jay stared at him as if Rich was insane. Rich gave him the ‘are you even listening to me, you idiot?’ expression with arched eyebrows and a toss of his upturned hands.
Jay let out a derisive snort. “Fine. But you’ll be missing out on this.” He grabbed his crotch, jiggling his hand in emphasis.
And your breath that reeks of moldy dairy products.
“I’ll try and get over it.”
“Fuck you!”
Rich sniffed. “Not if you were the last cock on earth.”
He turned on his heel, thrust his key in the lock, then rammed the door with his full weight to bust it open. There was a loud smacking sound as if the largest piece of Velcro ever made had just ripped open as the door hurled inward and banged against the wall. It had a tendency to stick at certain times of the year. Rich slammed it shut, locking himself safely inside. More weird smells accosted his nostrils. He was pretty sure it was a combination of Frank’s socks and Chan’s rather impressive collection of old fast food bags with the contents mostly consumed. Mostly.
God, I keep telling them if they’re going to be gross, to at least keep the doors to their rooms shut.
As the resident homo, he was constantly told it was his sexual orientation that dictated his need for cleanliness. He reminded them that he wasn’t a stereotype, just a man who didn’t appreciate having the urge to vomit every time he entered his own home.
Rich tossed his light cardigan on one of the rickety dining table chairs. He couldn’t complain about the tacky garage sale furniture, since it’d already been there when he’d answered their ad for a roommate two years before. He meandered into the kitchen then checked the fridge to see if any of his Pepsis had survived being unguarded for the three hours of his life he’d wasted on his so-called date.
Nope.
Letting out a defeated sigh, he considered being vindictive and taking one of their Red Bulls or Snapples.
Dammit.
He couldn’t do it. It was beyond him why he couldn’t convince his inner good boy to let him have one lousy cold drink. He straightened, letting the refrigerator drift closed on its own. Rich took two steps toward the cupboard that held the plates and glasses then reached up to retrieve his favorite Star Wars cup. He held it under the tap, turning the spigot. He didn’t bother checking to see if there was ice. No Pepsi equaled no ice. He knew the drill.
After grabbing his sweater, he took that, along with his tepid glass of water, to his room. It was the first one at the beginning of the hallway, across from the bathroom he shared with Chan. Frank was the original renter, he and Chan were merely the rentees. Frank occupied the room with the master bath.
Once he’d entered it, he shut himself in then lit one of the Glade air freshening candles. The stink of the house always seeped under his door, and he refused to begin stuffing towels in the jamb. He tried to make his personal space as soothing as possible, his own little sanctuary from his semi-crappy job and the teen shelter where he volunteered.
His gaze traveled to the traitorous laptop. It’d promised him untold riches of boyfriends and the one guy who’d light up his world. The one who’d hold him every night, tell him about his day, care about what Rich did during his and finally, build a life with him that would last forever. Oh, and they’d be madly, passionately in love and fuck like bunnies.
Instead, RealRomanceForMen.com had turned out to be worse than Grindr. He’d lost count of how many pointless first dates he’d gone on, but he knew it’d easily soared into the double digits. He’d only turned to it after the last guy he’d met in a non-virtual setting and had really liked a lot, had not only never given him a chance, but had found someone else.
Brett.
He was super sexy, not too much older than Rich’s twenty-six years, and was all about helping people. He’d even ended up being hired as the Executive Director at the new LGBTQ shelter that was close to being completed, which was how they’d met originally. But Brett had found his one true love. Or Cole had found him. Either way, no one had found Rich.
After eyeing his computer suspiciously one more time, he tossed his sweater over it as if declaring it dead. His Kindle called to him. If nothing else, he could at least have a book boyfriend.
Strip Search #7
“Dakota, you’re up next. Jasper called in.”
Ted, the crusty old stage manager and generic maintenance guy at Glitter Boys, stood at Dakota’s dressing room door, idly scratching his crotch while loudly smacking his gum. Dakota averted his gaze so that Ted wouldn’t catch him making a face of disgust. He loved to burst into the room unannounced when Dakota was changing, and also had the disturbing habit of suddenly appearing from the shadows backstage. It was like working with Nosferatu.
Careful not to make eye contact when he spoke, Dakota fussed with a purple rhinestone-studded G-string that he’d just dug out of his dance bag. “I just got here. I haven’t even done my makeup yet.”
“You want me to go tell Yuri that?”
Anger built under his skin. He didn’t mind dancing at a strip club, loved it actually, but the people who owned and ran Glitter Boys were the true definition of lowlifes. Dakota and all the talent at the club were treated like whores who didn’t matter to anyone unless they brought in bundles of cash. It made an otherwise beautiful and showy strip club a nightmare to work in.
Few more good months then I’ll have enough saved up for pro aerial dance classes. Then I can go to one of the smaller clubs where they don’t treat people like shit, get away from these psychos.
“Well? You going out there or what?”
He pressed his lips together. Yuri would be furious no matter what he did. If he wasn’t fully glammed out he’d yell. If Dakota told Ted no and didn’t go on stage, he’d yell. Dakota picked not going on stage. He hated it when he didn’t look his best.
“Nope. No makeup. No dancing.” Dakota finally lifted his gaze. “And I don’t care what you say to Yuri.”
Heart pounding, Dakota hurriedly turned away—mindful to keep his head down so Ted couldn’t read his anxious expression in the mirror. But Yuri and the other goons in charge weren’t much different from feral animals. He couldn’t show fear or they’d attack.
Ted inched his way into the room. The stench of Ted’s putrid, booze-enhanced sweat encroached on him. Ted touched his shoulder and he shrank away, grateful that he still hadn’t removed his Ziggy Stardust tee. Skin to skin with Ted, no matter how minimal, was the last thing he ever wanted to experience.
Add Yuri to that.
His stomach lurched. He shouldn’t have had the French fries on the way over, but a drive-thru snack was all he’d had time for. He hadn’t eaten all day and there was at least a six-hour shift ahead of him. He figured he’d have plenty of time to work off the grease.
“Now, don’t be that way, baby. I’ve told you before, if you’re extra nice to me, Yuri doesn’t have to know shit.”
The door slammed against the wall. Yuri yanked Ted away by the collar of his shirt, then backhanded him. Ted stumbled wildly before falling over one of the folding chairs that littered the room. He cried out in pain as he crashed to the floor.
“You have lots of fucking nerve, piece of shit!”
Rage contorted Yuri’s face, his skin flushed red as he jabbed his finger down at Ted, who lay in a heap of tangled chairs, feather boas and a riding crop or two. His Russian accent always made his words seem so much more menacing. The shouting also added to the genuine terror Dakota felt whenever Yuri had one of his fits.
Ted whimpered, holding his arms over his face as if he expected Yuri to strike again. Dakota agreed with Ted’s assessment. The probability was high that Yuri would continue manhandling and beating him. Dakota was safe from the punches. After all, it wouldn’t do to damage the merchandise.
Dakota gasped when Sauron’s eyes flashed over to him. Yuri was the ultimate doppelganger for the dark lord of Middle Earth. It was in everyone’s best interest to slink by him and not draw his gaze.
“And you. Why not getting ready?” Yuri grabbed the G-string Dakota still clutched in his hand. “You’ve worn this how many times? Huh?” Yuri hurled it into the trash can next to the lit vanity. He got right into Dakota’s face, glaring. He pinched Dakota’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “This isn’t cheap place! Customer expect hot guy, but also sexy, exciting costume. Not always same shit.”
He let go of Dakota by shoving him away. Dakota grasped the edge of the dressing table to keep from following Ted’s path to the carpet. Yuri returned his attention to Ted, who was attempting to disentangle himself as well as rise to his feet again. The sound of applause and the DJ announcing that Jasper was up next threw Yuri into another fit.
“God damn it!” Yuri shoved Ted again. “Go out there. Quick. Tell Noah two more numbers before he’s done.”
Shit. I didn’t know it was Noah on stage. Dakota always snuck in the back way. It helped to prevent the pre on-the-clock groping.
“Just one song, Yuri. I can—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Yuri lunged at him as if he’d strike. Even though Dakota knew it probably wouldn’t happen, he still flinched. He prayed he’d have enough money saved up to get out of Glitter Boys soon. He was sure that Yuri would eventually make good on his implied physical threats.
Ted had already scampered away to do Yuri’s bidding, which left him alone to face the club owner by himself. Yuri regarded him, let his gaze rake Dakota’s body clad in the tight T-shirt and skinny jeans. If Yuri wasn’t such a detestable human being, he’d be quite a stunning man. Almost ethereally handsome, he had the appearance of a deadly angel with white-blond hair and cruel blue eyes. Even though he was clad in an Armani suit, it was easy to discern his strong and muscular physique. He could’ve snapped Dakota in half.
“Hurry up.” Yuri’s voice had dropped in volume, which chilled Dakota even more than the yelling had. “Ten lap dances minimum tonight, understand?”
“But—”
“Understand?” Yuri had gritted it out.
“Yes, Yuri. I understand.”
“And we talk before you leave. No sneaky stuff like other night. I turn around”—Yuri shrugged—“Dakota’s disappeared.” Yuri leaned in. “Like he doesn’t want to speak to me. Me. The man who’s given him everything.”
Yeah. Right.
“Now I give you much more. We talk later.”
M/M Erotic Romance author Morticia Knight enjoys hot stories of men loving men forever after. They can be men in uniform, Doms and subs, rock stars or bikers - but they're all searching for the one (or two!) who was meant only for them.
When not indulging in her passion for books, she loves the outdoors, film and music. Once upon a time she was the singer in an indie rock band that toured the West Coast and charted on U.S. college radio. She is currently working on more installments of Sin City Uniforms and The Hampton Road Club, as well as the follow-up to Bryan and Aubrey's story from Rockin' the Alternative.
FB GROUP / DREAMSPINNER / KOBO
EMAIL: MorticiaKnight@gmail.com
Negotiating Love #5
Searching for Shelter #6
Strip Search #7
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK
B&N / KOBO / PRIDE PUBLISHING
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Series
B&N / KOBO / PRIDE PUBLISHING
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Series
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
