Heya guys! It's been a while! Life following GRL has been hectic with new projects, submissions, and getting ready for this new release. For those I got to meet when I wasn't sick at GRL, it was lovely. For those I missed I promise tackle hugs next year! I have several new things coming up for y'all in the first quarter of 2014, but we must finish with the business of 2013 first! And this next release was one that I worked a long while on just because it was pretty intense for me so I needed to step back and re-evaluate a few times. But I'm super proud of Logan & Gianni and hope you love them as much as I. So without further ado, I present the fantastic cover Dar Albert hooked me up with, the blurb and an excerpt from
Prologue
“Daddy, I’m fine. Would y’all stop worrying?” Logan
attempted to assure his father
“Well, you know how your Mama is. She’s missing her
baby and afraid that big city is gonna eat you up.” Logan would have called his
father on that blatant bullshit, but his Mama got there first.
“Now, Nicholas Marshall you sure do lie real fancy
for a preacher man.” Logan laughed at his father’s grunt, then heard shuffling
and his mother’s mumbled “pain in my butt” as she took the phone. “Logan,
honey, don’t you listen to your Daddy. He’s been whining for a week. You know
you can’t go so long without calling home.”
Logan sighed. He knew his parents worried, but what
grown man called home every day.
“Mama, I said I’d try to call once a week,” Logan pointed out.
“Well, you miss your Sunday call and your Daddy has
been ticking off the ways you could have been hurt on his fingers. You know his
heart ain’t good, child.”
“Mama, I have a job that requires a lot of my time.”
And Logan wasn’t kidding. He’d moved to New York City to go where his degree in
Social Work was needed. He knew there were places closer to his home in Texas,
but after trying to balance helping his daddy on the ranch and working for
their hometown welfare office, he’d lost his mind.
He needed a change, and if
he was going to make a drastic one, it needed to be somewhere that really
needed him. So when his resume was accepted by New York State’s Department of
Children and Families in Manhattan, he’d jumped on it. His parents had flipped
when they’d heard the main area he’d be working in was Spanish Harlem, but
Logan loved it. The area was exactly what he’d been looking for. The cases were
challenging, sometimes downright hard as hell to handle, but he was happy to
help. He’d stepped into chaos, and it hadn’t been even close to sorted out in
the year he’d been in the city.
“Just like your Daddy, I swear. Gonna work yourself
into an early grave, the both of you.”
“Mama, it’d be just as busy if I’d gone to San
Antonio or Dallas.”
“But you’d have been closer to home,” she said in
that tone that was created just to put guilt in Logan’s heart.
“We’ve been over this. They didn’t call me back until I’d already moved, and I’d have been working
twice as hard, because Daddy would have had me pulling projects on the ranch on
the weekends, on top of my case load.”
“Are you sure this wasn’t just to get out of the
ranch? You know your daddy would have backed off if you’d just told him.”
Logan hated for his mom to even ask that, but it was
the millionth time he’d heard the question in some form or another. No, he
hadn’t wanted to leave the ranch. He loved the small town in the Texas
panhandle where he’d grown up. For all the crap people talk about the area,
he’d actually had a great time growing up with the open fields and the horses.
He’d been raised by wonderful parents. They’d had Logan later in life -- Mama a
teacher and Daddy a preacher, as well as a rancher. He’d never had a hard time
with his sexuality, and neither had his parents. Kids in his school had been
harsh at times, but he’d found refuge with his church friends. His Daddy
preached at Mt. Vernon’s Methodist. Their church was as liberal as it got in
small town Texas,other than the one two counties south with a gay pastor at the
head.
All in all, life had been good, and he knew he had
many reasons to be thankful.
“Mama, you and Daddy taught me to work hard, have
empathy for others and to go where I was called. This has been my calling and
I’ve been fulfilled doing it. I miss y’all, but this is a good thing.”
She sighed into the phone. “If I didn’t know you had
that big ol’ heart of gold beating in that chest of yours I’d think you were
just buttering me up. You’re about as smooth with your words as your Daddy, I
tell you. Both of you are trouble.”
Logan snorted. One thing he’d never been called was
trouble by anyone other than his mama. He was the good kid who never smoked or
skipped a class, and always attended bible study and did mission trips. Now, he
was no saint, but his family wasn’t that
kind of Christian. His parents knew he’d enjoyed his partying in college, but
neither cared much, having been a pair of honest-to-goodness hippies back in
their college days. They had even met some of the boyfriends he’d had in
college, which they always called “fixer-uppers”. Logan was chronically
addicted to guys who probably weren’t good people, but Logan could see the
heart of the child they’d once been and refused to give up on anyone. Problem was,
they were usually closet cases, and that’d never turned out well.
Logan’s roommates, Cole and Emma, wandered out of
their rooms, laughing until they saw Logan still on the phone. They both made
exasperated noises and pointed to their wrists to indicate the time. Logan
pulled his phone away from his ear and grimaced. “Hey, Mama, tell Daddy I love
him. But I gotta git. Me, Cole and Emma are headed out.” And Logan wasn’t
missing a night out. He’d been working in some way for the last two weeks, so
this was the first night he’d be able to stay out late, and have the next day
off to recover. Not that Emma and Cole
would have let him out of going out tonight, anyways. They were as bad as his
mama, fussing about how much he worked and how he was never able to enjoy the
city.
“We sure are glad you could fit your old folks into
your busy social calendar,” his mother teased. He wondered if it was teasing,
though. And if they thought he had any semblance of a social life, they were
sadly mistaken.
“Mama…” He sighed.
“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you, honey. Y’all
go out and have fun. Tell those roommates of yours we said hi and I’m sending
up some more preserves.”
Logan’s roommates loved his mother’s preserves. His
mother wasn’t really all that domestic, but she loved gardening and putting
together her preserves. She said it didn’t make her feel as old as if she’d
taken up crocheting like her mother. And Grandma Velma was always clicking
those needles with a fierceness.
“Okay, Mama. Love you. Have a good night.”
“You too, honey. Use condoms!”
“Mama!” Logan’s cheeks heated. His mother was a
health teacher, so he’d heard it many times, but for her to know that’s exactly
what he was headed out to do always made his face burn with embarrassment. His
mama chuckled into the phone, and he rang off with a grunt that sounded just a
bit too much like his daddy for Logan’s taste.
Cole, dressed in his tightest pants and smallest Sorry Girls I Suck Dick t-shirt,
delightedly bounced up and down. “Did she have the condom talk again? I love it
when she has the condom talk. Your face gets so red.”
“Shut up, Cole.” Emma and Logan said at the same
time, getting a pout from Cole’s plump, glossed lips. Logan had never
considered hooking up with Cole, but the man was beautiful. He was city elegant
to Logan’s down home good looks, and he was confident enough to know it. Then
there was Emma, who was dressed to the nines in a little black dress, with a
dangerously low neckline and heels that Logan had a hard time imagining her
dancing in.
“Ready to go?” Emma asked, looking in the mirror
hanging on the living room wall, coiffing her sleek, black mane.
“Let me get some shoes and we’re out of here,” Logan
said, feeling the giddiness of a night out sinking into his pores. It’d been at
least a month since he’d had time to really
go out, and he intended to have a good night. Hopefully, he’d be having a really good night.
****
Gianni Rodriguez had let his friend Marco talk him
into a lot of stupid, boring ideas but this one was the most stupid and the
most boring yet. Gianni did not fit in with the yuppies at this loft party in
Manhattan. Hell, he wouldn’t fit in at any
loft party. Yeah, he was gay, and this party was full of gay men and their hags,
but this was not his scene at all.
Marco looked wonderful. In his silk shirt and black
slacks, he fit in with the gallery owners and schmoozing artists. Marco had
assured him this wouldn’t be a bullshit night, and that Gianni was sure to meet
someone interesting, but Gianni wasn’t sure that was going to happen. The crowd
was overwhelmingly white and overwhelmingly upper crust. Gianni felt like an
idiot in his baggy jeans and his nicest polo. He was vastly underdressed, and
Marco hadn’t even warned him when they’d met up.
Marco meant well, like every other time he invited
Gianni to go along somewhere. They’d been friends as long as he could remember,
having grown up in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn. They came from similar
backgrounds, though Marco was one-hundred percent Italian, while Gianni was
only half. Gianni’s Italian mother married his Puerto Rican father, so to the
white-bred party-goers, Gianni looked more like a street thug than one of their
own. You are a street thug, Gianni
reminded himself.
Marco, on the other hand, fit in easily. But Marco
had made it out of the neighborhood after high school, which had been fine with
Gianni. Marco was not only Gianni’s only friend who hadn’t been sucked into the
life, he was also his only gay friend. They’d only ever revealed this fact to each
other and Gianni’s cousin, Wendy. Marco was Gianni’s escape. No one questioned
when Gianni and Marco went out on the town looking for tail, that tail being
decidedly male. None of the other guys wandered into Manhattan where Marco
lived now, much less the gay clubs they visited together. After Marco graduated
from college, he’d stayed on the Island and developed quite the gay social
group, one he kept trying to pull Gianni into. But the looks Gianni got and his
less than desirable lifestyle made him highly incompatible with all of Marco’s
buddies.
Gianni wanted to ditch the party, if it weren’t for
Marco’s excitement. Like every party, Marco promised this would be the one.
The one where Gianni would make a friend that would inspire him to change his
wicked ways. Poor, deluded Marco. It was nice to be the real Gianni for a
night, though, just kicking back, turning off the criminal lurking in his mind,
and spending time around people who weren’t carrying a piece in their waist
band.
Gianni wandered over to the wet bar for the
umpteenth time, receiving a sympathetic smile from the female bartender who’d
been leering at him all night. She’d obviously pegged him as the one straight
man, and between his clothes to his bored attitude he figured she had reason,
though she was very wrong. She flirted with him a little as she passed him a
drink. He coolly ignored her advances, receiving a pout that was so skillful,
he wanted to just say “I’m gay, fuck off.” He couldn’t remember ever openly
saying those two words and he wouldn’t waste his first time on a horny cocktail
waitress. He usually just got the point across when he bent a guy over a table,
which sounded really good about now.
Damn that Marco, Gianni thought as he turned from
the bar, cocktail in hand. That cocktail gracefully flew through the air as a
queeny little shit ran straight into Gianni because he was too busy
gesticulating with his hands to pay attention to where he was going. Gianni
growled, and the guy stopped still. Gianni stopped scowling when he saw those
pillowy lips and the slender body of the smaller man, who now had both hands on
one of Gianni’s arms, apologizing profusely. He was cute. Gianni could
definitely see owning this guy tonight, and the gleam in the guy’s eyes said he
wanted Gianni to do just that.
“I’m so
sorry,” the guy said with a seductive lilt then lickint his glossy lips,
smiling coyly at Gianni. Gianni thought those lips would look much better
wrapped around Gianni’s eight inches.
“It’s all good,” Gianni used his most street-wise
swag, sensing the guy was digging the whole hombre
vibe. Gianni knew it should annoy him more that guys wanted him for the
fantasy of being with the Latino Gangster, but hey, if it got him balls deep in
that throat, he’d play it up.
“Let me get you another drink,” the guy ran a finger
down Gianni’s forearm.
Gianni smiled seductively at him, and shamelessly
ran his eyes up and down the sexy young thing. Those tight pants and too-small
t-shirt did wonders for Gianni’s cock and the guy didn’t miss a beat as he
brushed up against Gianni, putting a bit of shake to his pert ass as he
requested the bartender give him two of whatever Gianni was having. The woman
rolled her eyes at them both, finally catching on. See, they always figured
out.
“Guess that leaves me on my own,” a voice mumbled
from behind Gianni. The man wasn’t talking to him, and Gianni really didn’t
want to peel his eyes away from the twink’s tight ass, but he decided to at
least look apologetic to the guy whose— date?—Gianni was now stealing.
Hot
damn.
Gianni had only thought the twink was who he wanted
for tonight. But goddamn! His friend was the real deal. You really couldn’t
even compare the two. It was almost a game of eeny-meeny-miny-homo in Gianni’s
mind. Did he want to own that sexy little twink or did farm boy here need to be
shown exactly who was in charge? The farm boy was an inch taller than Gianni’s
five-feet-eleven and was built sturdy. Those lips were as pillowy as the twink’s,
but they were harder around the edges Those eyes, though. Fuck. Gianni had
never seen such an interesting color of green. It wasn’t bright. They were like
a sea-foam or mossy green that stood out among thick black lashes, matching the
so-dark-brown-it-was-black hair.
Farm boy caught Gianni’s appraisal and scowled.
“No.”
Gianni shook his head, confused. “’No’, what?”
“We don’t do threesomes,” Farm Boy said drily. Holy
shit, that deep southern accent.
Gianni gave his cockiest grin. The guy gave him a
hard glare. Oh, farm boy has balls. I
like him.
“Well, who said I needed three?” Gianni drawled.
“Dude, he saw you first. And if you’re trying to
play friends against each other I don’t think you’re much my type anyways.”
Damn, but farm boy was cute when he was being judgmental. Gianni raked his eyes
over Farm Boy much as he’d done with the twink. Farm boy’s jaw ticked, and he
started smoothing his green and blue plaid shirt. He made plaid look fucking
sexy.
“What does him seeing me first have anything to do
with me wanting you more?”
“It’s called bro-code, asshole,” the twink said
bitchily, passing Gianni his drink and rolling his eyes. Oops. Twink took Farm Boy’s arms and said, “Forget it.” Gianni was
stunned as they both walked off. He’d never been turned down by a bro-code. Yeah, he’d had friends scrap
over him once or twice, and that went straight to his cock, right before both
friends settled it by both hitting their knees for him. He wasn’t an asshole
really, but getting laid was hard enough in his line of work, so he had to take
whatever he could when they offered it.
A hand landed on Gianni’s shoulder, and he turned to
Marco who was laughing at him.
“You dog, you fucked that one up good.”
“Fuck off, Marco.”
“I tell you to make friends, and you go trying to
get another cat fight started in your honor.”
“Well, they didn’t bite did they?” Marco huffed,
annoyed, and downed his whiskey and coke in three gulps. “When can I blow this
joint?”
“Oh, hell no. We’ve only been here like an hour.”
“Well, that’s the closest I’ve come, and now that
I’ve pissed them off, I’m betting it’s the only one I was gonna get.”
“That dude in the plaid got you good, huh?” Marco
laughed again. Gianni just glared at him. “You’ve never been dismissed like
that. It was a thing of beauty, I tell you.” Fucking Marco.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m out of here.” Gianni sucked
down his drink, set his empty rocks glass down on one of the bistro tables
scattered around the loft for that purpose, and shook Marco off. Marco laughed
and called his name but Marco didn’t turn back as he made his way out of the
loft and into the elevator.
He was almost settled in for the ride down as a
familiar voice yelled, “Hold the door!” Gianni obliged, but he sure wasn’t
getting any thanks from Farm Boy. He got a glare. “I’ll catch the next one,”
Farm Boy said with that damn dry tone that still sounded sexy in that accent.
Gianni glared right back. “Just get on the fucking
elevator. I won’t bite, white boy.”
Farm boy glared for a moment, but the elevator
started buzzing, so he let out a huff and stepped on. Gianni leaned against the
opposite wall from the guy and looked him over again. Damn could Farm Boy wear
a pair of jeans. Thick thighs and a firm ass were easy to see in the worn pair
of honest-to-goodness Levi’s. Where did this chulo come from?
“Your friend find another dick?” Gianni asked tactlessly.
Farm boy just glared. Gianni put his hands up in
defeat. “Hey, no talking. I get it.”
They had twelve floors to go down, and it seemed
like it was taking forever. Gianni noticed a couple of times that Farm Boy
would glance at him from the side of his eye. Gianni smiled. When the doors
opened to the lobby, Gianni put his hand on Farm Boy’s arm, firm enough to stop
him but not so hard as to be threatening. He turned with a scowl.
“Hey, Farm Boy, let me make it up to you.” What the hell are you doing?
“What?” the guy asked incredulously. Gianni wasn’t
sure himself. He was like a fiend, though. The guy was sexy and ballsy. Gianni
had never wanted to chase someone, and it’s not like he could offer any more
than a good time, but he thought a night with Farm Boy might be worth the extra
effort. He had this guileless look that Gianni never saw in…. well, he couldn’t
remember seeing it ever, honestly. He felt like a vampire trying to drain a
little of the guy’s innocence for himself, but he had to have some, like a drug
promising a better tomorrow. It’d wear off, but tonight, that’d be okay.
“I was a tool. Let me make it up to you. Plus,
there’s better shit to do in this town.”
Farm Boy looked like he wanted to say no, but Gianni
gave his flirtiest smile. “I know a place with good music and beer in red solo
cups. If you find a better offer, you’re welcome to ditch me.”
Again, Farm Boy just stood there studying Gianni. He
rolled his eyes and grimaced after a really cute gamut of emotions played
across his face. “Okay. But I’m not saying I’m sleeping with you, okay? I
wanted a night out, and my damn roomies ditched me.”
“Assholes.” Gianni smiled teasingly at the guy. You’re teasing him. Really? Gianni
didn’t recognize himself for a second.
“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta get laid, I guess.”
Farm Boy looked annoyed.
“Well, let’s go, then!” Gianni led farm boy out and
hailed a cab.
Gianni would always remember that first night. Farm
Boy—Logan, he would later find out— loosened up and they danced and drank cheap
beer. Gianni forgot for a minute, in this man’s presence, that he was the dark
to Logan’s light.
He didn’t care about this when they ended in Logan’s
bed. And, as he slipped out of the apartment that night, he told himself he’d
stay away for Logan’s sake. It’s not like Gianni ever did second helpings,
ever. Like any drug, though, he knew he was lying if he thought he’d actually be able to stay away.
