Both heroes in the story are manual laborers. Which means they're good with their hands...
Mario works as a construction foreman. He gets to spend all day supervising a crew of laborers.
Like this guy:
And Carter is a landscaper, so he can work without a shirt.
Carter and Mario have been best friends for years. They recently joined forces to flip a house. That means a lot of together time as they nail and screw.
But back to the original topic of this post. My new release! Here's a blurb:
Carter Hope would do just about anything for his best friend. When Mario gets the bright idea to buy a POS house together to flip and sell, Carter swears he’s out of his mind. Unfortunately, Mario Gutierrez is hard to resist. After one weird conversation at a bar, and one meaningful look across their empty beer bottles, Carter isn’t sure he’s not the one flipping for his friend.They’re both tops, so to make this work, one will have to give in and roll over. Will Carter’s past let him find new happiness with his best friend?
How about an excerpt?
"Good night, Carter."
Carter's feet shuffled to a stop. Shit. He said my name. He rarely used his name in a good-night, and now he’d used his entire name—not just the first syllable—in that sexy way that suggested all kinds of things they could do rather than sleep. Carter forced his feet to carry him forward and clenched his teeth all the way to the bathroom. He kicked the door shut, braced his arms on the vanity, and took a few cleansing breaths.
He listened as the water ran in the kitchen, then the clink of the drinking glass being set on the top rack of the dishwasher. Carter didn't have to watch to know every move the man made. He could picture the scene as clearly as if he stood next to Mario.
He'd run a hand through his hair, leaving tunnels in the thick black strands. Then he'd start undressing before he made it to the staircase down to his apartment. They'd been friends for a decade, and roommates for close to five years, so Carter knew every pattern the guy had.
Carter turned on the faucet. Partly for distraction and partly to splash some water on his face. Before he could lean over the sink, he had to unzip his fly and pull out his cock. He throbbed. Throwing his head back, he gripped his prick and pulled.
"Oh, fuck." Tingles began almost immediately. Every damn nerve ending in his body stood at attention and buzzed with the tension. Before another stroke, he let go and stiff-armed the countertop again. He sucked in huge amounts of air and blinked rapidly until his vision cleared. Okay, so he'd end the night with some solo play. But not here. He'd wait until he lay in bed with The Late Show turned up to cover his squeaky springs and his own moaning.
He shoved Mario's image out of his spank bank and focused on brushing his teeth. By the time he left the bathroom, his body had cooled down to a slow simmer, but not enough to rezip his fly, so he just tucked his dick into his underwear as best he could. Trying to keep his mind off how damn good his orgasm would be tonight, he crossed the living room to the kitchen because Mario had left the light on—as usual.
Once dark, the entire old house seemed to settle in, curl up like a cat in front of a fireplace. Carter stood in the kitchen, staring at the closed door that stood between him and his best friend. He wouldn't let the thought of walking downstairs and taking Mario into his arms form in his mind. Not going to happen.
So why wouldn't his feet move?
He relaxed his jaw to breathe through his mouth. His eyes started to water from staring at the dark door, but he seemed glued in place.
Go to bed, Carter. The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you can put this weirdness behind you. He repeated the order a few times before he took a step backward. Just as he did, the door opened.
Mario entered the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He kept hold of the doorknob. Even from across the room—lit only by the neighbor's back porch light shining through their uncovered windows—there was no mistaking the desire oozing out of every pore.
Carter squeezed his eyes shut. He could not imagine shit like this about his best friend. When he opened his eyes, the man stood close enough to touch.
"I'm sorry, Car. God, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be up here." His words blended together in one long syllable. A clear sign of Mario's anxiety. Some people talked louder when agitated; Mario talked faster. "I don't want to fuck things up between us. You're my best friend. You can tell me to leave. Just say the word and I'll go downstairs, and we'll forget I ever opened that door. We can blame the liquor. Or, God, please tell me—" Mario took another step until his breath washed over Carter's heated skin. "Tell me it's okay. Tell me you want this too, and let me kiss you." Mario's voice had never sounded so damn sexy. The rumble went straight to Carter's balls.
Carter couldn't speak, the alarms going off now drowned by the desire pumping through his veins. He reached up, hooked Mario around the neck, and brought their foreheads together."I want this."
If you'd like to read the first chapter, just visit my website.
Thanks for helping me celebrate my new release! Now I'm going to enjoy a nice cold lemonade.
Flipped from Silver Publishing