Summary:
A demanding chef and a straight former soldier: Taking orders has never been so hot!
Veteran and bar manager Tyler Hewitt has too much on his plate. His old Army buddy is hanging on by a thread, his father is recovering from surgery, and he’s temporarily running the Hawk Point Tavern while the owner is away.
Chef Donovan Ryan is always the one in charge—in the kitchen and in the bedroom. So it doesn’t sit well when he has to answer to Tyler. They’ve always butted heads, but without a buffer, the tension has never been higher.
Until one night when their sparks go up in flames.
Tyler is sure he’s only into kink if he’s the one dishing it out, but Donovan’s control leaves him hungry for more.
Hooking up is one thing. Love is another.
Can Tyler embrace taking orders from a civilian, or will Donovan have to give up his dream of a collared submissive to keep the man he loves?
Made to Order includes: hot tempers, CBT, breath play, kinky kitchen implements, and nosy grandmothers.
Summary:
A silver fox Dom, a sweet sub, and a feisty switch: could three be the perfect number?
Logan Shaw is a divorced dominant with a bag full of toys and no one to play with. He loves the construction company he built from the ground up, but he’s been longing for a submissive to make his life complete.
Tony Christensen hates running the family towing business but his father's illness left him in charge of the company with no time to follow his dreams or find a Dom to love and praise him.
On the surface, chef Jude Maddox leads a charmed life, but his restaurant renovation is a mess and he can't seem to find another switch to make his kinky dreams come true. Jude is smitten with the perfect sub he met through a kinky hook up app, but he knows he can't be the full time Dom Tony needs. When he meets a sexy older dominant on that same app, he never dreams it's his father's best friend—or what it will mean for the three of them.
As a switch, Jude can finally indulge in both sides of himself. Logan has two subs to guide, tease, and torment. And Tony? He's about to get all the domination and praise he yearns for. But when their explosive chemistry turns to love, will what they've built together be strong enough to withstand the forces that would tear them apart?
Flipping the Switch contains a sweet cinnamon roll of a sub, scorching hot MMM scenes, impact play, praise kink, DP, and, a visit from everyone’s favorite, Grandma June.
Preston's Christmas Escape #5
Summary:
Actor Preston Graves' Kinky Secret Exposed!
Preston Graves is a household name among the TV-watching masses. Handsome, accessible, relatable. But when his not-so-vanilla personal life goes public, he high-tails it back to his home state of Michigan for the holidays—to the man (and Dom) he once loved.
Blake Aldrich tried love, twice. When it didn’t work, he retreated to focus on his pottery. He finds success but he’s never forgotten what he lost. His lover. His submissive. His best friend. Now Preston is back, invoking a childhood pact and dragging a Hollywood-sized mess into Blake’s tidy life.
The lure of a sub in Blake’s woodland retreat tempts him and the lacy surprises under Preston’s clothes are a present he can’t resist unwrapping. The heat between them ignites and their old feelings come rushing back, but Tinstletown is still calling Preston’s name.
Blake will have to choose whether to follow the man he’s always loved, or be left out in the cold.
Preston's Christmas Escape contains predicament bondage, lingerie, paparazzi, and a second chance at love. Although set in the Pendleton Bay world, it can be read as a standalone story.
Made to Order #3
ONE
“Have you found any new men to tie up lately, honey?”
Donovan Ryan rubbed his forehead. “Grandma June, can we not discuss my love life? Please.” This was not the first time they’d had this discussion, nor would it be the last, he suspected. June Frazier was the sweetest, loveliest human being on the planet. But she had no filter whatsoever.
“I just worry about you.” She took a seat at the table across from him in her sunny yellow kitchen, a gentle frown wrinkling her skin.
“You’re worried your grandson isn’t getting kinky enough?”
She shrugged, the bangles on her arms clanking musically. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a perfectly normal part of life and sexual expression. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know that. And appreciate that you’ve always been so supportive. But do we have to talk about it?”
“Pffft. Your grandfather and I—”
“And you can stop right there,” Donovan said with a chagrined smile. “I am thrilled and delighted that you and Grandpa had an amazing sex life together, but I do not need to know the details.”
“Fine. But my question still stands. Have you met anyone?”
“I haven’t.” He nibbled on a lemon shortbread, enjoying the sweet-tart hint of sugary zest in the midst of all the buttery richness. “I work all the time.”
“I know you do.” Her frown deepened. “I don’t like that. You should get out more.”
These days, Donovan’s grandmother had a much more active social life than he did. She was the one out with her friends most days of the week. Despite her age of seventy-eight, she was spry and mentally sharp. She still drove, and so far, he hadn’t seen any issues with her reflexes slowing, thanks to the yoga and Zumba classes she attended at the studio downtown. He was convinced that one of these days, he’d have the wrestle the car keys out of her hand. She’d probably be 103 before it happened, but for now, she was healthy, active, and a social butterfly.
“You know I love the restaurant,” he protested.
“Yes.” She smiled proudly at him. “And I couldn’t be more pleased you’re executive chef at the Hawk Point Tavern now. Not to cast aspersions on Frank, but the man only knew one technique: frying.”
“They only had the bar side open then and he was a fry cook. He did his best.”
The owner of the tavern, Rachael Bradford, had inherited the business from her father, David. Apparently, at the time of David’s death, it had been a nice little bar. David’s dreams to expand from bar food into a full sit-down restaurant had gone unfulfilled until a few years ago, when Donovan came on board.
Frank had been happy to retire, and together, Donovan and Rachael had renovated the previously vacant half of the building and opened an adjoining restaurant. David Bradford hadn’t lived to see his own dreams become a reality, but Donovan was glad he’d been able to help Rachael fulfill them for her father.
Since they opened, the restaurant had quickly flourished into an upmarket place serving a seasonal menu of new-American cuisine in downtown Pendleton Bay.
Donovan had grown up in the nearby city of Fort Benton, Michigan but he’d spent most summers in Pendleton, staying with his grandparents while his parents went off to work. He hadn’t minded.
Donovan had loved to run along the beach of the bay, enjoying the cool waters of Lake Michigan and collecting the shells that washed ashore. He’d loved baking with Grandma June and going fishing with Grandpa Harold.
He remembered the sizzle of butter in a pan and the sharp scent of lemon and fresh herbs, along with the aroma of roasting freshly caught rainbow trout. His grandparents’ kitchen was where he’d discovered his love of cooking and they had both encouraged him to pursue a career in it, even when it meant defying his parents.
“I still appreciate you helping me get to this point,” he said. He reached out and took his grandma’s hand. She squeezed it, her blue eyes twinkling brightly behind her hot pink glasses.
It wasn’t that Kate and Phillip Ryan were unsympathetic to the idea of their son chasing his dream of becoming a chef. They’d just worried about him. The long hours. The low pay. The career that was worlds away from their day-to-day lives as defense attorneys.
They’d struggled to understand why anyone would be willing to work under the conditions of a restaurant kitchen. They’d encouraged him to find something more stable. To go to a university instead of culinary school. It hadn’t been a dramatic thing, no threats to cut him out of the will or anything like that, just a pervasive sense of concern and disappointment.
Which was also difficult. Donovan had wanted to make them proud. They’d come around eventually, particularly when he’d been hired as the sous chef at Plated, an upscale place in Fort Benton. And they certainly were proud of him now, as part owner and executive chef of the Hawk Point Tavern. But it was his grandparents who had been his staunch allies from the get-go, and Donovan would always be grateful.
June smiled at him. “Of course. You know I support you no matter what. Which is why I worry you work too hard. It’s all well and good for you to love your job, but if you can’t have a social life …”
Donovan groaned. “I know, I know.” But he spent six days a week in the kitchen. Sunday evenings and Mondays were really his only time off. And even then, it wasn’t unusual for him to stay late or come in when he was supposed to be home relaxing. The arguments against his career had been valid but Donovan had never been able to imagine doing anything else. His worst day as a chef was better than any he could ever hope to have in an office. He came alive in the sizzle and heat. In the chaos, he found peace.
“It’s not like I have time to go out and meet people. And my, uh, tastes do limit my options,” Donovan admitted.
His grandma had found out he was kinky in the most awkward fashion imaginable. Well, maybe not the most awkward fashion. He’d been fully dressed at the time, at least.
“Happy twenty-eighth birthday,” Grandpa Harold had said, giving Donovan a hug. “Thanks again for inviting us.”
Donovan had smiled warmly at his grandfather. “Of course! I wanted everyone who mattered to me to be here.” His friends and family mingled in the apartment, chatting and laughing over the food he’d made, and a swell of happiness went through him. They teased him about catering his own party, but cooking was his way of letting them know he loved them. That he appreciated them in his life.
“We should probably get going. It’ll be dark soon.” Harold looked around. “Where has the love of my life gone off to this time?”
“I’ll go find her,” Donovan said, patting his grandfather on the back. Not that his grandmother could have gone very far in his condo, but she had a tendency to wander off to read the books on his shelves or poke around in his kitchen. He slipped out of the living room where everyone else was gathered, brushing his fingers against Jude Maddox’s as he passed him.
His boyfriend turned to him with a smile, grabbing his hand and squeezing briefly before letting Donovan continue. He peeked into the dining room, then the guest room to find them empty, before discovering his grandmother standing in the bedroom he and Jude shared.
She had a thoughtful expression on her face as she stared at the wood and leather trunk at the foot of the bed.
“Is that a Joseph Lynch piece?”
Donovan’s eyes widened. “Yes. How do you know his work?”
“Well, he sells it at the farmers market and the craft fairs around the area. He’s quite well known.”
Right. Joe made wooden furniture and accessories that weren’t kinky. Donovan had a few of his olive wood cutting boards, spoons, and spatulas in his kitchen, but in certain circles, Joe was better known for his gorgeous paddles and spanking benches.
Or, in this case, furniture that was kinky and vanilla. A spanking bench/storage trunk that looked perfectly tame. The straps along the sides looked decorative instead of useful for restraint.
She turned and smiled at him. “I haven’t seen this design before but he does brilliant work. So multifunctional.”
“Yes, the storage and seating is nice.”
She gave him an unamused look over her turquoise glasses. “Sweetheart, I may be old but I’m not enfeebled. I know what these are used for.”
“Spare pillow storage?” he said weakly.
“Bondage.”
“How do you—” He gaped at her for a moment, then shook his head. “No, scratch that. I don’t want to know.”
She chuckled. “Your generation thinks you invented being kinky. BDSM practices have been recorded as far back as early Mesopotamia. That’s 4000 BCE. This is nothing new. There’s just more information out about it.”
Donovan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re a former sex-ed teacher, but this is not something I want to talk about with you.”
She shrugged, amused. “You always were too much like your mother.”
Which meant tightly wound. Kate Frazier-Ryan was a fiery redhead with a low tolerance for bullshit—just like Donovan—but significantly less free-spirited than her mother.
“Anyway, Grandpa wants to head out. I came to fetch you.”
“Yes. He does hate driving late at night now.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t embarrass you further. But let me just say, this isn’t the first time I suspected you were kinky. You think those pamphlets and books got left out for no reason?”
Donovan thought of the ones he’d surreptitiously snuck into the guest bedroom to read under the cover of darkness as a teenager, wanting to understand why he felt a pull to the things he fantasized about. His head had spun with information as he read about consent and safety, all informative and non-judgmental. It had helped guide him toward being an ethical Dom and sadist, while most people in his shoes were fumbling their way through it with a wing and a prayer. He was grateful. He’d just had no idea her providing it was intentional.
“I thought they were for school,” he said weakly.
“You think Pendleton High would have let me teach high schoolers about BDSM? No. I had to fight to get as much info about AIDS and contraception into my lesson plans as I did. I battled it out with the school board more times than I could count. No, my dear, I left those out for you.”
Donovan couldn’t fathom what had made his grandmother realize that about him, before he’d really been sure of it himself. It had gone a long, long way toward making sure he got some good, healthy information instead of whatever he gleaned from porn. But it was still vaguely horrifying to realize.
Donovan cupped his grandmother’s face. “I love you for that. But please, let’s never, ever talk about this again.”
Now, ten years later, she smiled at him from across the kitchen table. Clearly telling her that hadn’t worked. He suspected it never would.
“No munches around?” She took a sip of her coffee.
“The closest is in Fort Benton. And on a night I have to work.”
“There are apps, right?”
Jesus, she even knows about kink apps. Which was even more alarming when he thought about the fact that she’d been widowed almost a year now. She’d loved his grandfather to pieces, but Donovan also knew she was a vibrant, active woman and … No, Donovan was not going to let his brain go there.
“There are,” he admitted. “Not as big a selection of people on the apps here as there was in Fort Benton. Smaller town, smaller dating pool.”
She let out a little sigh. “I was so sorry to hear about you and Jude.” She reached out her hand, resting it on his, her fingernails a vibrant shade of pink that matched her glasses.
“Me too,” he said with a sigh. “But we wanted different things.”
She looked at him shrewdly. “In the relationship or in the bedroom? Or were those two things intertwined for you two?”
“They were intertwined,” he admitted. “We weren’t meeting each other’s needs anymore. And it got ugly.”
She frowned. “I am so sorry. He seemed like a good man.”
A lump rose in Donovan’s throat. “He is. I loved him a lot. But …”
They’d just no longer worked. Jude’s switchiness and desire for an open relationship chafed at Donovan’s dominance and desire for monogamy. And after a while, working together at the restaurant and trying to navigate an increasingly fraught romantic relationship had spilled out into an ugly argument over a rack of lamb.
Donovan had quit his job and ended his decade-long relationship on the same night. So ugly.
So very, very ugly.
He still cringed thinking about it. His bridges in Fort Benton had been burned, accelerated by a jilted ex with an axe to grind and an executive chef suddenly short-staffed.
Donovan Ryan was persona non-grata in Fort Benton these days.
So, he’d retreated to Pendleton Bay, lured in by the soft comforts of his grandmother’s understanding and the promise of a new direction for his career. It had been a good change, if a little lonely.
He covered his grandma’s hand, trapping her soft fingers between his. “I’ll find someone when the time is right,” he said.
She smiled at him, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, or the feel of cutting into a perfectly poached egg yolk. “I know you will, sweetheart.”
Flipping the Switch #4
ONE
Jude Maddox took one look at the empty storefront and resisted the urge to kick something. The front door should have been propped open while a construction crew streamed in and out. They were supposed to be tearing up the old flooring and laying new, but the door was tightly shut, the lights were off, and there wasn’t a workman in sight.
“Goddamn pieces of shit,” he muttered.
This was the second time this week. It had been happening for nearly a month, in fact, and Jude didn’t have to pull up the calendar on his phone to know they were behind schedule. He’d been worried last week. Today, he’d officially flown right past worried into stressed out and pissed off.
He stuck his key into the lock and a flake of paint fluttered down from the door to hit the concrete sidewalk. Damn it, they were supposed to already be done with the exterior work. The weather was only going to get worse, and they were running out of time.
The storefront along 1st street had been vacant for a while. The vacation town of Pendleton Bay was thriving, but according to his real estate agent, a family illness had led to the previous owners closing up shop. They’d always planned to reopen but as the years stretched on, it had never happened, and they’d finally decided to sell. Jude had come along at just the right time to open his restaurant.
If he could ever get the damn construction finished.
He chewed at his lip a moment, debating what to do next. He’d tried talking reasonably to the project manager. Then resorted to wheedling and cajoling. Last week he’d gone for stern, which had gotten him no further. His lawyer was currently digging through the contract to see if the company was legally in breach but the thought of the headaches that would cause made him cranky. And the idea of trying to find someone new filled his stomach with dread.
Jude just couldn’t understand what he’d been doing so wrong.
He was paying them plenty of money. Why wouldn’t they just work?
Jude paced as he contemplated his options. His father, Jackson Maddox, was a real estate mogul, so he had plenty of experience flipping properties and dealing with contractors, but if Jude went to him, he’d have to admit he’d failed.
That he was in over his head and had no fucking idea what he was doing.
He was a chef, for god’s sake. He should have just partnered with someone and let them deal with the headaches of getting the business portion of the restaurant off the ground.
The problem was, Jude had very specific ideas of what he wanted, and he wasn’t always great at compromise.
He scrolled through his phone contacts, looking for someone who could talk him down from the ledge of panic. Most of the numbers were old and out of date. At least half were former hookups or play partners, essentially useless now. He stopped at Preston’s name and considered calling and bitching to his closest friend.
Preston Griggs was a childhood friend. He and Jude had grown up together, lost contact for a little while, then reconnected at a munch in Fort Benton. Both Jude and Donovan—Jude’s boyfriend at the time—had been struck by Preston’s green eyes, dark brown hair, and chiseled jaw and had invited him to play with them.
They’d had loads of fun with Preston—or at least Jude had—but long after they’d stopped hooking up with Preston, and Jude and Donovan broke up, Jude and Preston had stayed in touch.
Even after Preston became a household name.
One day Preston was working as a barista, the next he was being flown to Hollywood for a screen test. Now most of the world knew him as Preston Graves—an actor with a recurring part in a popular TV show.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be much help with Jude’s current dilemma. Preston had years of experience at listening to Jude bitch, but while he was a good, loyal friend, he was busy as hell and knew fuck all about construction.
Jude sighed and kept scrolling, pausing again when he reached Archie Shaw’s name. Jesus, he hadn’t talked to him in years either. Preston, Archie, Jude, and their friend Blake had all grown up together and Archie had always been a nice guy.
Archie and Jude’s fathers were best friends and their families had vacationed together when they were kids. Jude and Archie had often spent time together in the summers. Swimming or—as they got older—going out on the boat. Jude remembered lying out on the deck of the Shaw family’s sailboat, smoking weed with Archie and talking about their plans for the future.
Archie had also ignored the family business—construction as opposed to real estate—and gone into medicine.
At least his family was proud of him.
Wait. Jude stilled. He and Archie might have lost touch after they’d graduated, but his father, Logan, had been running Shaw Construction Corp. since before Jude and Archie were born.
They worked on high-end corporate buildings, often in Fort Benton, Grand Rapids, or Chicago, but Logan definitely had the experience and the industry knowledge to give him some advice on how to proceed. Jude had always liked Logan, and found his easy-going demeanor welcome. At the very least, Logan would have an idea of how to deal with these people and get the ball rolling again.
Hmm. Jude should still have Logan’s number somewhere in his phone. He’d used it liberally when he helped his mother plan his dad’s fiftieth birthday party. Which was seven years ago almost, but he’d kept in contact with Logan via text after. It had been a while since they’d exchanged messages though. Maybe a year or more.
Jude made a triumphant noise when he found Logan Shaw’s number buried in his contacts. He hit dial and held his breath, crossing his fingers Logan hadn’t changed his number.
It rang several times but just as Jude thought he might need to leave a message, someone picked up.
“Jude Maddox.” Logan’s tone was warm. “Good to hear from you. How’ve you been?”
“Not great.” Jude dragged a hand through his hair. “But let’s leave my love life out of this.”
Logan laughed, which was exactly why Jude had said it. “It can’t be that dire.”
“Oh, I assure you it can. But setting that aside, I’m in a pickle and it’s construction-related.”
“Ahh, now I know why you called me out of the blue.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“So, you didn’t just want to hear my voice?” Logan teased.
Jude chuckled. “Well, maybe that too.”
His relationship with Logan was interesting. Not flirty per se, but they’d always joked and bantered a lot and that had only increased as the years passed. He remembered a particularly enjoyable conversation at his father’s birthday party, in fact. But he hadn’t seen Logan since.
“Tell me your construction woes so I can figure out how to fix them,” Logan said, drawing Jude back to the present.
“Did my parents tell you about the restaurant I’m opening?”
“No, they didn’t mention it.”
Jude looked skyward, annoyed but not surprised by the news as he stared at the dusty exposed ductwork. His father had never been what could be called enthusiastic about his career as a chef, so it wasn’t a shock that he didn’t brag about his son’s accomplishments to his friends. Opening a restaurant in Pendleton Bay was nothing to brag about. Chicago, maybe. But a small vacation town in Michigan wasn’t impressive enough for his tastes.
“I bought a property in Pendleton Bay,” Jude explained. “It’s in a great location and the town is booming. I ran all the numbers, and the projections look great. The problem is my contractor’s dicking me around and I’m tired of it. I have a deadline and—”
“I get it. Not everyone is as reliable as yours truly.”
Jude chuckled. “They’re not.”
“So you need me to come fix this mess for you?” Jude could picture Logan sitting in his office, feet up on his desk, a hand rubbing his short hair. His dark brown eyes would be warm and his smile easy.
So maybe Jude had always had a teensy little crush on Logan Shaw. But that was beside the point. “I do,” he said, his tone earnest rather than flirty. “I don’t want to fuck this up before I even get started.”
“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Logan said. “I promise, everything is fixable.”
“Sure, for a price.” Jude grimaced. He’d inherited a good chunk of change from his grandfather but even for him, money didn’t grow on trees. He could absorb the restaurant operating at a loss for the first year or two, but if he didn’t turn a profit eventually, he’d be in deep shit.
Which would lead to a lot of ‘I told you so’s.’ Jude had always been the fuckup of the family. While his sister, Katrina, had embraced the Maddox family destiny of getting involved in real estate, marrying up, and popping out two-point-five happy blond children, Jude had gone another route.
Chef. Gay. Unable to settle down.
Jude immediately twisted his thoughts away from that topic. No, now was not the time to think about his ex-boyfriend Donovan Ryan and how badly that had gone. Was it pathetic Jude had ended up in the same town, opening the restaurant he and Donovan had always planned to build together?
“Jude?”
“Hmm? Sorry. Just got up in my head about something,” he admitted.
“Well, focus on me for a moment. I need you to listen.” There was a firm command to Logan’s tone that made Jude straighten his shoulders. It also caused that little flutter of interest that always perked him up when he thought about someone else taking charge. Not that Logan was getting bossy with him for kinky reasons, but at this point, Jude would take a bit of dominance in his life any way he could get it.
He was making a fucking mess of things on his own.
“Yes, sir,” Jude teased.
“Hey now, watch it there.”
Jude grinned, even though Logan couldn’t see him through the phone. “I’m listening.”
“Are you free this afternoon?”
“Yeah. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be,” Jude said with a sigh. He’d quit his job to work on this restaurant opening, but he was hemorrhaging money and had way too much time on his hands. A dangerous combination.
“Text me the address of your new restaurant and I’ll come by to check out the space and figure out how to get the ball rolling again. I have a meeting at one, but I should be able to hit the road by two.”
“Thank you,” Jude said, feeling a little of the anxiety about this project slip away. “This is a huge weight off my mind.”
“I won’t let you flounder, I promise.”
“I mean it, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Glad to help. I promise, we’ll get you up and running in time for your grand opening, Jude.”
Logan made it sound so easy. Like he’d just swoop in and fix all Jude’s problems. God, if only he would.
Jude thanked him again, then hung up and took a seat on a discarded stack of flooring nearby.
Logan might be able to fix the unholy mess Jude’s restaurant was in. But fixing the rest of Jude’s issues? That was too big of a job even for Logan Shaw.
Several hours later as Jude waited for Logan to arrive, he sat in the empty storefront window and scrolled his favorite kink app in search of a hookup. Not that he had any immediate plans for anything, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. And while a blowjob or a good hard fuck wouldn’t fix his problems, they wouldn’t make them any worse, either. At least he’d be less tightly wound.
Jude might have been heartbroken after things went to hell with Donovan, but that didn’t mean he’d been celibate. As far as he was concerned, it was possible to be sad and getting laid at the same time.
He winced when he saw he had missed a couple of messages from BigSubbyBottom, or Tony, as Jude knew him. He lived up to his username and was gorgeous to boot, with a sweet, shy demeanor that was an intriguing contrast to his muscular body. Jude had thoroughly enjoyed playing with him, but he had a vague memory of seeing his messages come through and clearing the notifications with the intention to get around to them later. He hadn’t, because life had gotten crazy and his head was too full of this renovation to think about anything that wasn’t immediately on fire.
Guilt stabbed at Jude. Tony was a complete cinnamon roll of a guy and he deserved better than Jude’s half-assed attention. He glanced at the clock but it was only five minutes to his appointment with Logan. Not enough time to message Tony without fear of interruption so Jude made a mental note to message him later tonight.
He glanced up from his phone in time to see a man pause on the sidewalk across the street.
Jude perked up at the sight of the snug-fitting blue suit, perfectly tailored to show off the man’s muscular body. He was half-turned away, but his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight and a matching short beard set off a strong jaw. That was about all Jude could see from here but what he could see looked nice.
Hello, silver fox—please come my way.
A moment later the man pivoted, heading straight toward his restaurant. Jude’s jaw dropped as he realized just who the man was.
Woah.
That smokin’ hot silver fox was Logan Shaw.
When did that happen?
Logan had always been attractive. As a young gay kid, of course Jude had noticed. He’d looked up to Mr. Shaw as a teenager and found him appealing in every way. But the last time Jude had seen him a few years ago, he’d looked handsome if a bit tired, and starting to go a little soft around the middle.
Which, hey, no judgment, but this current version of Logan? Wow.
Logan must have caught a glimpse of him in the window, because he smiled, lifting his hand in greeting. Jude scrambled to his feet to unlock the front door as he approached.
“Hey there,” Jude said with a relieved smile.
“Hey yourself. It’s good to see you.” Logan leaned in for a hug and Jude enjoyed being pressed up against his firm chest and the rich scent of his cologne. That was new too. Rowr.
“So, you look good,” Jude said. “New workout regime?”
Logan laughed softly, dragging a hand through his silver-shot hair. Jude had always liked Logan’s face and his square jaw, but the beard made him a least three hundred percent hotter.
Woah, down, boy, Jude reminded himself. That’s your dad’s best friend you’re perving over and he’s here to save your sorry ass, not fuck it. But Jude couldn’t resist teasing just a little. “I like the hair and beard too. Very nice.”
“Ahh yeah, well I decided to change things up a little after my divorce.” Logan gave him a little shrug.
Jude had known Logan and Ann had divorced but he hadn’t seen Logan since then. They’d texted occasionally but Jude hadn’t seen him in person and it had been ages since he’d spoken to Archie or snooped around on his social media.
“How’s that going? Dating anyone new?” With looks like that, money, and a great personality, Logan had to be drowning in sexy younger women.
He shook his head. “Sadly, no. I’m a little bit rusty at all this.”
Archie’s parents had been married as long as Jude’s, and Jude tried to imagine what it must be like to date again after thirty-odd years of marriage. Yikes. It had been hard enough for him after nearly a decade with Donovan and they’d had an open relationship. Well, sort of. Open-ish.
It was complicated.
“Ahh well, with looks like that, I’m sure you’ll find someone in no time,” Jude said with a wink.
Logan made a face. “That’s a conversation for another day. Tell me about this place of yours instead. The outside needs some work, I see.”
“Ugh.” Jude made a face too, but for a totally different reason. “The outside, the inside … I am pretty sure there’s a fifth dimension here that needs to be worked on as well. I’m afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
Logan glanced around the empty room, a contemplative look on his face. “I don’t know. The bones are good.”
“The bones are good,” Jude agreed. “I’m just afraid the rest of the carcass is a hot mess. Possibly decaying.”
Logan grinned. “You always had a way with words, Jude.”
“Gotta have a fallback when the years of eating my own delicious food obliterate the six pack and all my hair falls out,” he said with a sigh.
“Wow, look who’s gotten jaded and cynical.” Logan’s dark brown eyes twinkled.
“Nah, I’ve always been this way.”
They both laughed but Logan sobered. “Okay, walk me through the place so I can see where we’re at.”
“Sure.” Jude gestured to the front of the space. “This will obviously be the dining area. I’ve got blueprints you can look at later but for now I’ll just give you the basics.” Logan listened intently as Jude described the dining and bar space, nodding and asking intelligent questions. But he grimaced when they reached the back. “You don’t have a kitchen.”
“Ahh, no,” Jude said. “I don’t.”
“Kind of important in a restaurant, isn’t it?” Logan shot him a concerned look like he thought Jude might have really lost his marbles.
Jude winced. He might be right. “We’re building it from scratch.”
Logan whistled softly. “Shit, that’s a hell of an expense.”
“It is.” Jude sighed, thinking about the numbers he’d been quoted. It would have been so much cheaper to buy a restaurant and renovate but spaces in Pendleton were rare. There were casual restaurants, Asian, Thai, Mexican, sushi, and of course sandwich shops and a few cafes in the area. There was a dive bar on the south side of town and the tavern where Donovan worked was to the north. There was a brewery with a restaurant that apparently had taken over the old steakhouse a couple of years ago too. But that had maxed out all the available property, so Jude had decided to focus on a place with a great location that he could customize. He was beginning to think he’d made a huge mistake.
“Okay.” Logan looked around again. “Well, I think I need to take a look at those blueprints now.”
Jude located a set the project manager had left and rolled them out on the makeshift table that had been set up, a sheet of particle board over a few sawhorses. A few discarded tools served as weights for the curling paper and Logan studied the plans for a while, silent and intent as he bent over them.
Jude tried not to let his gaze drift to Logan’s ass. That was new too. He’d been lean and fit for most of his life, but Jude was one hundred percent sure he’d have remembered an ass so muscular he could bounce quarters off it. Or, preferably, his face.
“Okay,” Logan said, clearing his throat. “So, I see your dilemma.”
Jude guiltily tore his gaze away and stepped forward to look at the blueprints again. He knew every square millimeter of them but at least getting caught staring at them wouldn’t make things awkward.
Logan had always been easy-going about Jude’s sexuality but no good would come of Jude making Logan feel weird.
“So, I’m fucked?” Jude said as he braced his arms on the rough table and wondered if he should just throw in the towel now. He’d been trying for teasing, but it came out a whole lot more desperate sounding than he’d intended.
Logan settled a hand on his back, his palm warm. “You’re not. I want to take a look at your contract, but I think these guys are probably in breach. It depends a lot on the wording, but I’ll look it over for you, if you’d like.”
“I’d like,” Jude said, feeling a wash of gratitude. “The lawyer is reviewing it now but any extra sets of eyes would be appreciated.”
“I could stick around for a couple of days too, if you want. See if we can put the fear of God into them, or, if not, come up with another plan.”
“You’d do that?” Jude asked, turning to look at him.
“Of course.” Logan squeezed his shoulder. “I won’t leave you twisting in the wind, Jude. We’ll figure out a solution and get you back on track.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” He bit his lip. “Could you not mention this to my parents? I want to prove to them that I have my shit together and you having to swoop in and rescue me …”
“Of course. I get it.”
Jude sighed gratefully as he straightened. His life might be a little bit of a disaster right now, but he wasn’t going to have to admit defeat to his father. He trusted Logan to deal with the unholy mess he’d gotten himself into and figure out a solution.
Jude was unrepentantly switchy but for the umpteenth time since his breakup with Donovan, he realized how much he missed having the steady, calming presence of a Dom by his side. Logan might not be inclined that way, but he had all the traits of a great dominant.
And these days, Jude would take what he could get.
Preston's Christmas Escape #5
One
A glance at the sleek designer watch on Preston Graves’ wrist told him he was running late. He dashed through the house—equally sleek and designer—in search of his phone and finally found it on the kitchen counter next to the fruit bowl where he’d tossed it last night when he’d stumbled in around 4 a.m. Battery was definitely dead. Ugh, of course it was.
He’d just stuffed the device in his pocket when the intercom crackled to life and Allie Barnes’ voice came through. “Preston, I’m here but—”
He hit the button to open the gate before she could finish. “For once you’re on time,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll meet you out front.”
“Wait, Prest—”
No, he wasn’t waiting.
She did this every damn time. She came in, saying she had to pee, and got distracted, then an hour later when he finally herded her through the door, they’d missed their reservation. Not today. Preston strode to the front door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. A bright flash of light and sudden roar of noise made him flinch.
What the fuck?
Eyes watering, he blinked and instinctively reached for the sunglasses on top of his head. But when the flash of cameras and the shouted words finally registered, he stumbled back, blindly feeling for the doorknob. It had automatically locked behind him and he pressed against the sun-warmed wood, the onslaught of voices and words and flashes of light dizzying and disorienting him.
A reporter thrust a microphone in his face. “Do you have any comment, Preston?”
Another shouted, “Would you like to comment on the photos?”
“What is your response to your fans’ reactions to the news that you’re kinky?”
“What were you doing at a BDSM club?”
“Is it true that you’re gay?”
“How long have you been involved in kink?”
“Has Allie Barnes been your beard this whole time?”
He recoiled as the questions came faster and faster, the voices beginning to overlap, melding into a cacophony of noise and chaos. His heart raced out of control, his brain frantically scrambling to think, form a plan, but there was just helpless, panicked bleating inside his head.
Oh God, what the fuck happened? How did they find out?
Terror clutched at Preston’s throat, making it impossible to move or speak and the shouted words became white noise as he went lightheaded with fear.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, making even the paparazzi stop and turn. They parted enough for Preston to see a bright flash of blue from an SUV. A familiar voice shouted, “Preston, get in!” and he went limp with relief when his brain came back online.
He used the momentary distraction to shove his way through the crowd, and Allie threw the door of her SUV open just in time. He dove in, scrambling gracelessly into the seat and yanking the door shut as she pulled away with a squeal of tires.
“What the fuck was that?” he yelled.
“You’ve been discovered, Preston.” Allie’s voice was calm, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the steering wheel. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“No shit I’ve been discovered,” he snapped. His fingers trembled and it took him three tries before it clicked into place. “I’d figured out that much. How?”
“You had no idea?” She turned the corner sharply, throwing him against the door and leaving rubber in her wake.
“No! I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I got in around like four in the morning and crashed. I woke up with just enough time to shower and get dressed. My phone has been dead all morning.”
He fumbled in his pocket then plugged it in using her charging cable.
She glanced over. “Use my phone if you need to. It’s there in the console.” She rattled off a passcode and he reached for the sparkly pink thing and punched it in.
He held his breath as he searched for his name. A slew of lurid headlines greeted him, one jumping out immediately.
Actor Preston Graves' Kinky Gay Secret Exposed!
He groaned when he saw what site it was on. CelebGossip was the worst.
“I’m not fucking gay,” he muttered. “I’m bi. You’d think they could get it right in the headlines.”
“Yeah well, we know how concerned the gossip sites are about the accuracy of reporting,” Allie said with a roll of her eyes.
“Seriously.” He took a deep breath and kept reading.
Preston Graves built his career on a squeaky-clean image, but the CelebGossip site exclusive photos below show a whole different side of the Saving Hollywood actor.The images below are shocking and graphic depictions of the actor in an underground kink club in L.A. Sources say that Preston was spotted playing with a Dom for hire and that he had an ongoing relationship with the man, who goes by the name of Master Lawrence.The discovery of Preston Graves’ secret life as a gay submissive throws his entire relationship with co-star Allie Barnes into question.Though fans have shipped their relationship for years, neither of the stars nor their representatives have made an official comment confirming or denying it. The couple is frequently spotted enjoying cozy brunches and dinners at the hottest L.A. restaurants. Often seen on each other’s arm at parties and red-carpet events, the notoriously private stars’ behavior has led to public speculations that they are dating.Is his relationship with Allie Barnes just for show?Check out the exclusive photos below and decide for yourself. We certainly think so.
Allie swerved again, twice in quick succession, and Preston’s stomach lurched dangerously.
“Oh, God, I’m going to be sick,” Preston groaned. He dropped the phone into the cupholder and covered his mouth.
“Not in here,” Allie said firmly, “I just got this thing detailed. Let me be sure I’ve shaken our tail and I’ll find somewhere to pull over.”
“We’re being tailed?” he yelped, craning his neck to see behind them.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m driving like this?”
“You always drive like this,” he muttered.
“I do not!” She landed a swat on his arm and the car veered to the right.
He yelped again. “I don’t want to die like this!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” She swerved left around another corner, then an abrupt right at the next light.
He gulped, stomach protesting again at the sudden, dizzying direction changes, and he clutched at the ‘oh shit’ handle, closing his eyes.
Oh God, no, that was worse. He opened them again, watching in terror as she wove through traffic.
“You’re not a stunt driver, Allie,” he reminded her. “I know you had a few hours of training for driving the ambulance on the show but that doesn’t count!”
“Gah, you ruin all my fun.”
But she slowed a little and his stomach settled enough for him to safely take a few breaths.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said in a dry tone as he unclenched his fingers from around the door handle, muscles aching from the white-knuckle grip. “Is my panic ruining your enjoyment of the crisis I’m currently in!”
“Yeah, just a little bit.” Her tone was cheerful, and he shook his head. If he didn’t know her so well, he’d be fucking annoyed, but she was always like this. Sarcasm was their love language.
Platonic love language, that was. Much as fans did ship them hard, they’d never been a couple in real life. Oh, they’d implied it, but it had never been confirmed or denied by either of their PR teams or the network, and that was what they all wanted.
Allie wasn’t his beard, per se, any more than he was hers. But they had a mutual agreement that both of their lives were easier if fans were focused on the “are they/aren’t they” of their relationship.
They played it up sometimes, just for fun.
It gave Preston enough of a cover to do his own thing quietly and discreetly—or so he’d thought—and for her to do the same. And he didn’t mind the steamy on-screen scenes they did together. They’d just never lead to anything off screen.
Some fans shipped his character with that of his co-star Jay Morton as well. Preston and Jay got along well on and off screen, but they’d both been downplaying the “I date men” part of their sexualities, so they’d never let it develop into anything.
Hell, Preston hadn’t dated anyone in years. It was easier that way.
“I am grateful for the rescue,” Preston admitted to Allie, slumping against the seat as the adrenaline began to wear off.
He was even more grateful when she pulled in behind a convenience store and put the vehicle in park. They were well-hidden enough that they could probably hide out here for a few minutes. Preston let out a relieved groan that they were no longer moving and then the enormity of what a mess he was in, hit.
“Oh fuck, how did this happen?” He unclipped the seatbelt and turned to face his friend. He caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror, face chalk-white, shell-shocked expression. Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.
Allie twisted in her seat and gave him a look.
“Well, you took your clothes off and got tied to a cross by a big, strapping man, who beat you and shoved a dildo up your ass, and someone got pictures of the whole thing.”
The queasiness in Preston’s stomach returned three-fold and he clutched his midsection.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” Allie asked.
“No?”
“I had to find out you were kinky on Twitter.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. “Rude! I thought we were close.”
“It’s on Twitter?” he said weakly.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s everywhere.” She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. “You better give Vanessa a call. I’m sure you have about four hundred messages waiting from her.”
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Part 1
Author Bio:
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.
SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST / SCRIBd / B&N
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com
Made to Order #3
Flipping the Switch #4
Preston's Christmas Escape #5
Series
