Happy news! I've got four of my previously released MM erotic hockey books back! They've gotten a beautiful new cover and have been bundled into one reasonably priced collection.
There’s no sport quite like ice hockey. The speed, the action, the physicality, the blood, and the rabid fans. Add in sizzling hot M/M romance and you’ve got the setting for some amazing romance tales! In the four stories contained in this collection, you’ll experience the ups-and-downs of finding that one true love through the eyes of four different men, ranging in age and experience, from collegiate players to the pros.
Readers should be over 18 due to mature language and gay sexual situations. The set includes:
Crashing the Crease
Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/y7dz7kzc
R-rated Excerpt: (From Crashing the Crease)
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm secretly harboring lustful desires for you and so I hide them by hurling cutting comments at you."
I spun around to find his dark eyes latched onto me. While the acidity of his words could have eaten through a Sherman tank, the lust in his gaze was anything but corrosive. The knowledge that this man actually wanted me made my blood thump in my ears. My shoulders tensed.
"What are you, five years old or something?" My fingers tightened around the hand sanitizer.
"If you had pigtails I would dunk them into an inkwell," J.D. countered. We stood facing each other. Something was crackling in the four feet of space that separated us. "Or maybe I should just jack you up against that tree and kiss you until you beg me to fuck you. You do know that's how it will be, right? This antagonistic 'I hate you!' crap is just a cover that we're both using because we want to get at each other. Yeah, you know. I can see it in those blue-green eyes of yours."
My breath hitched. I took a step in reverse. J.D.'s mouth curled into a predatory smile then he stepped closer.
"I have a boyfriend." It rolled out of me before I could think properly. The sensual smile that had been playing over his lips disappeared. "And you are not my type."
"You're lying," he said as he reached up to stroke my cheek. The feel of his fingers moving over my whiskers made my skin prickle. "I just can't figure out if I should pretend to believe that you don't like men who take charge or if you're just scared about meeting the first man to ever tell you just how shit will be."