Comics, conventions, M/M romance, spandex, and a touch of Dom/Sub sound good to you? If so then you'll want to grab a copy of my new release Bound, Boarded and Bagged which is already an ARe bestsetller! Here`s a blurb and an excerpt. Excelsior!
All Romance eBooks--https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-boundboardedandbag…
Darren Caldwell thought he was in for another routine day at work sorting the new shipments of comics, dealing with customers, closing shop and then heading home alone with only a copy of The Blue Barracuda to entertain him. Never in his wildest fantasies—and a man who owns a comic shop has some good spandex-filled fantasies—did Darren expect to see a man like Connor Smith enter his shop.
Before Darren can duck the POW! of love, he finds himself inviting Connor along to a weekend comic convention. One smoking-hot road trip later and Darren is tumbling head over heels for, and into bed with, the one man who brings out a submissive side Darren never knew existed. Lucky for Darren, he’s got a long weekend, a hot, comic-book collecting Dom and the adventurous spirit to figure out if his new kinky tendencies are the stuff of heroes or villains.
Cookie was the one who pointed him out to me first.
“Darren! You have got to check this man out!”
I sighed, then returned to the daunting task of trying to sort out the Wednesday morning shipments. You might think running your own comic book shop is a dream job. Just sit around all day, reading comics, sipping on highly sugared soft drinks, discussing who would win if The Crimson Nuthatch went up against Plum Raider. I wish.
“Darren, come on! He’s going to be out of range soon.”
I glanced up from the work at hand—fifteen boxes filled with comics that needed to be sorted, boarded and bagged before we opened the doors at ten.
“Cookie, really?” I asked, holding out ten issues of Piranha Girl. My manager/assistant/employee kept her upturned nose to the window. I had a moment where I thought about going over, grabbing the two long, red ponytails atop her head, then pulling her back to the mess that the UPS man had left. I could probably handle her. Okay, maybe not. She might only be five feet tall but Cookie Price was tough. And smart. And knew more about comics than any dude that had applied when I opened my shop, Your Weekly Pull, five years ago. Thank you Grandpa Caldwell for the stipend. It was just enough to get me the hell out of those economics courses at community college and into the profession I had dreamed of since I had read my first comic at the age of five. “Can we leer at passersby after we have at least one box emptied?”
“Come on, stop being so you.”
“You want I should be someone else?” She threw a glower over her thin shoulder. I tossed Piranha Girl aside. What the hell? We only had eight hundred comics to sort through in an hour. Why not fritter away another ten minutes gawking at some guy on the sidewalk?
“I want you to be someone who isn’t still hanging out in Mourning Town about that disastrous romance with Ronald.” She shuddered dramatically as she said “Ronald”. She was so wrong. I was not living in Mourning Town. I had moved out of Mourning Town and now lived in Loathingville, where all the citizens, me, spent hours hating a douche-radish named Ronald Aster, my ex. The cheating ass goblin, jerkwad, pickle-dicked…
Was that a tiny spark of bitterness in my voice?
“Is his ass as fine as two scoops of chocolate ice cream?
“It really is.” She put her hands on either side of my head then cranked my line of sight to the left. I had to rest my forehead on the window so I could see around the poster of Captain Independence taped to the glass. “He’s that tall, handsome man with skin the same color as Arabica beans.”
Squinting into the morning sun I finally located the delicious coffee-skinned man standing at the corner.
“Damn,” I said on an exhalation. He was fine. More than fine. He was stunning. His profile revealed a striking nose, plump lips and an intelligent brow. When he glanced back up the sidewalk I saw that his cheekbones were cut into his face as if by a laser. “Damn,” I said again just because it needed to be said. He wore his black hair cut close to his skull. He had a thick neck, broad shoulders, lean waist, long legs and an ass cradled in soft, blue denim that made me cross-eyed. I would say his skin-tone was more like a dark chocolate Ghirardelli square. Was he filled with raspberry goodness? My mouth filled with saliva. He wore a familiar looking short-sleeved teal shirt. I tried to turn my head. Cookie still had me locked into place. She snorted in amusement then slowly turned my head for me. Her pug nose and my rather pointed one were an inch apart. “Does he work at the pool place?”
She nodded, her long ponytails bouncing to and fro as a devious smile lifted up the corners of her lips.
“He’s been walking by every morning at exactly ten of nine for the past two weeks. I thought you might like to check him out. Isn’t he much hotter than Ronald?”
She forced my head to go up and down. I swatted at her until she let go. I did glue my brow back to the warming window though, just to make sure I had seen what I had seen. Oh yes. I had. Tall, dark, and handsome was jogging across the intersection then, sadly, he disappeared from sight. I leaned back, then folded my arms over my chest.
“Why are you pointing him out to me?”
“Because you’re despondent.”
“Pfft,” I said. My retaliatory verbal skills were really the stuff of legends. “Secondly, I am far from despondent. I just went out on a date last week, if you’ll recall.”
“Bingo with your mother doesn’t count,” she said, affecting the same pose I had.
“I’m trying to be more selective.” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Darren, you’re not being selective, you’re being comatose.”
“I do not have time for this,” I said, then stalked around her. I began ripping at the clear plastic tape on the morning delivery.
“Hey, I know how bad it hurts. I mean, it took me like a year to get over Brad. It’s only been six months since you were dumped. I think you’re doing real good!” She patted my back. Sadly, her attempts at succor did little to give me comfort. There was really no good reason to even look at a man like Studly Teal-Shirt. That sort of male was so far above my sort of lover it wasn’t even funny Like that stunning homage to African perfection would give a guy with dull brown hair, lackluster blue eyes and little to no rump a second look. I weighed one forty soaking wet. I spent no time in the gym. I did lift comics to my nose though, and every Monday night I walked from my place to my buddy’s apartment three blocks over to play Caverns & Creatures. Fear me. No wonder Ronald had gone off with that Cuban wrestler.