I am excited to have my critique group partner, Chris McHart, and her new release from MLR Press, on the blog today!
Blurb
Jeff was raised to
believe love between two men is wrong. Or is it? Can love ever be wrong?
When Jeff meets the
much younger Dean, he only knows he wants him, consequences be damned. But
things are not as easy, especially after Jeff's ex calls and announces big
news.
And Dean? He thinks the
new neighbor is hot, but he's not interested in something more than a rebound
fuck. That's what he tells himself, at least.
But lust isn't a good
basis for a relationship, more so since Jeff isn't sure whether he can deal
with being gay.
Love is never wrong,
but can Jeff accept that?
Buy Links
Excerpt
What the
hell possessed me to buy so much shit?
I stood in front of my car’s open trunk, and
tried to work out how the hell to get all this stuff up to my fifth floor
apartment. Without an elevator, of course. The nice guy at the store had packed
most of it in bags, but there were about eight of them. Along with a few items
that were too big to fit into bags. I was going to have to make a lot of trips
up and down the stairs. Damn.
I should have bought a few things at a time, not
everything the first day. It figured
I’d go overboard, trying to make my new apartment as comfortable as possible.
Understandable though, since this was the first time I was totally, completely
on my own, but I might’ve gotten a bit too much.
“You’re my new neighbor, aren’t you?”
The deep voice, coming from behind me, shot
shivers down my spine. I turned. My gaze traveled up and down the man standing
in front of me, and holy shit. Short,
dark brown hair with grey at the temples highlighted the sharp features of his
good-looking, angular face. And he had a body that made me want to beg. I
didn’t know what to beg for, just that I wanted to. Damn. Muscles defined his arms, not too obvious, but clearly there.
Along with the slight padding on his hips, his appearance gave me the
impression that he might work out, but was definitely not obsessed with it. He
was somewhere around the age of forty, forty-five, if I guessed right. A man of
my tastes.
What I wouldn’t give to be allowed to run my
fingers over his stomach, trace the hairs that grew there, up to his chest,
where the dark curls peeked out from under his shirt. And then down to his
cock, likely nestled in the same coarse hair, standing ready for me. His matted
torso would contrast so nicely with my sparsely haired chest. The hairs would
tickle my nipples and my stomach, right down to where I wanted to feel his
touch most.
Author Bio
Chris McHart is from Germany and
while an accountant, writing is Chris’s real passion. Chris likes to spend time
with family and has way too many animals that demand constant attention. Chris
also enjoys landscaping and cooking.
Whenever Chris has a free
minute, it’s spent writing ona laptop, a cup of coffee in hand, deeply lost in
the world Chris’s muses have created.
When coming up for some air,
you’ll find Chris on a lot of social networks. Check out Chris’s website to see
where you can find out more. Chris looks forward to hearing from you!
Web: www.chrismchart.com
twitter: https://twitter.com/chris_mchart
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