Lysander is a mage more used to commanding earth, metal, and wood than people. How is he to be master of a slave, and the slave’s desire, when Lysander hasn’t fully mastered his own?
Blurb
Lysander is a gentle mage who wants a warrior slave to save his family. Wyl is a betrayed prince who wants his freedom and what was taken from him. Their hearts and desires collide amidst storm, steel, and magic in the desert. Lysander can master the elements, but can he master his desire for Wyl? Can Wyl fight for, let alone love, any man that dares to own him? (Revised Edtion)
Excerpt
Arms numb, Wyl sagged against his restraining post.
His thick, dry tongue cracked his lips, searching to find a hint of moisture hidden in any recess in his mouth. There was no relief to be found.
He leaned his head back, wincing as the coarse rope around his neck chafed against his raw skin. He stared at the unfamiliar sky above. Home was cloudy skies and cool, wet winds from the sea. This sky was clear blue with a relentless sun high above. He let his head fall forward to his chest. This sky was as cruel and foreign to him as this ancestorless city.
How long had it taken the slave ship to travel the southern lands, let alone Tandir? What had made his father think slavery was more merciful than death?
Why did I not foresee D’ara’s treachery? Takesh! If I had the spit, I’d gladly waste it on the sands to dishonor the thought of her.
She had cost him everything: his freedom, his home, his family, and even his connection to the ancestors. He would get it all back. He would not be one of the forgotten!
About the Author
Rose lives in southern Indiana. When she isn’t writing, she can be found gaming or out with friends. Nearby conventions are also familiar haunts. She’s especially fond of coffee shops and cats. However, no matter what she is up to, her muse diligently takes notes, seeks inspiration, and weaves together plots and ideas.
Jeremy Brookes is having a mid-twenties crisis. After losing his mother, he’ taken up his father’s offer to move from Canada to London to start a new life. The problem is, he has no idea how to do it. His billionaire father as some ideas…
Once Jeremy is installed in the exclusive neighbourhood of Queens Crescent, he will have to sort his life out pretty damned quick if he’s to avoid a lifetime at the pharma company where his father is CEO and his stepmother rules HR.
Jeremy isn’t cut out for that life or that of a spoiled rich kid, worrying where his next designer label is coming from. Then he happens upon Stuart Monroe, the handsome Scottish florist with a shop around the corner. As the only socialist in Kensington, Stuart’s lowly background makes it a challenge to be surrounded by such wealth. Instantly drawn to this rebel in their midst, Jeremy decides to do the sensible thing: go undercover as Stuart’s new shop assistant to get to know the enigmatic stranger better.
Jeremy Brookes dragged his massive suitcase off the carousel. It nearly knocked him over, but he’d refused to pack light.
“Welcome to London Heathrow,” a cut-glass accent sang out over the tannoy.
Tired passengers and frantic staff were weaving in and out around him as he looked at the doors which led through customs. A whole new life was waiting beyond them. A wave of panic flooded through him for a second. He had come this far and he would look pretty f*cking stupid if he insisted on going back home at this point.
You’re twenty-six years old, Brookes. Take control of your life. For f*ck’s sake.
With a deep breath he stepped forward.
The automatic doors opened, and a sea of faces greeted him. Signs were held up for people and families were dashing to each other and, standing at the end, his father, Wade Brookes, grinned at him.
Despite himself, tears welled up inside Jeremy. As he reached Wade, that kind face which had saved him from countless childhood nightmares greeted him.
“Dad.” Jeremy let his father wrap his arms around him. Surrounded by happiness, he still sobbed into Wade’s chest.
“Hey now,” Wade said soothingly. “I’m here. You’ve been so brave, but I’m here.”
It felt good to be cared for. It had been a long time. Jeremy pulled away and wiped his eyes. He must look a total idiot in the Arrivals lounge. Especially in England. They weren’t known for their public displays of emotion. He looked around but no one seemed to be bothered. “Sorry,” he said, laughing nervously. “I didn’t think I’d do that.”
Wade pulled him in for another hug. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get home.”
Taking control of Jeremy’s case, he led him through the crowds. It gave Jeremy the time to get himself together.
“You look well,” Wade said once they’d got in the elevator.
“Thanks,” Jeremy replied.
“A little tired,” Wade continued. “No wonder though. I’m so glad you gave me the chance to care for you for a while.”
Jeremy shrugged. “There’s nothing left for me at home now. Yeah, I’ve got friends and stuff. I don’t know, it felt right to have a fresh start.”
Wade grinned. “And that’s what you will have. Honestly, I have so many plans for us. Cassie is excited too.”
Jeremy’s stomach sank. If his father noticed, he chose not to say anything. The elevator dinged and Wade was leading him out into the car park where a sleek black Aston Martin Vantage waited for them.
“Jeez, Dad,” Jeremy exclaimed. “Nice wheels.”
“Cassie says it’s a mid-life crisis,” Wade replied.
I thought she was the mid-life crisis.
After a struggle, they managed to squeeze Jeremy’s case onto the back seat.
“Sh*t,” Wade said. “I should have thought about that. I was too keen to show off.”
Jeremy climbed in. The leather interiors made it instantly cosy. “I don’t mind being a bit squashed,” he replied. “I’m arriving in London in style. Drive on.”
Wade laughed and fired the car into action. The engine was low and sexy. Jeremy wondered how long it would take to gain his father’s trust to let him take this baby for a spin.
“You won’t be driving this,” Wade said, as if reading his thoughts.
“It never crossed my mind,” Jeremy replied as innocently as possible.
They set off out of the huge car park. Jeremy couldn’t wait until they cleared the concrete jungle of the airport, and he could get his first glimpse of England proper.
“What’s it like here?” he asked.
“You’ll love it. There’s a ton of culture and history. We’ll show you round of course, but I really want you to explore by yourself too.”
“I really am grateful, you know.”
“You’re my son.” Wade turned the radio on. An impossibly English voice was reading the news. “Of course, I’m going to help. Your life has been on hold for years, Jeremy. “
Rage exploded within him. “It’s not like I had a choice, is it?”
“I know that, son. Believe me, it shows what a wonderful soul you are. But this is your time now, to decide who you want to be.”
“Better late than never, eh?”
“You’re hardly in an old people’s home.”
“I’m closer to thirty than twenty, Dad. I’d look a bit stupid as an apprentice.”
Wade frowned. “People will understand why.”
Jeremy burst out laughing. “I’m hardly going to put ‘I nursed my mother through cancer’ as a previous job.”
Wade shifted uncomfortably. The gallows humour Jeremy and his mother had shared made others squirm. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll back you. I’ve got a few ideas, but all in good time. You need to settle in first.”
Jeremy sighed. For the first time in ages, he had started to look past that day. It felt nice. Then the guilt came in like an oil slick.
They had cleared the airport now and were on the motorway. Jeremy stared out of the window at green fields and trees. It looked beautiful yet completely alien. “She feels a long way away,” he said, quietly.
Wade squeezed his knee. “I know, son.”
Jeremy fought the tears that threatened to completely overwhelm him. They drove in silence which he was grateful for. He passed the time taking in the huge fields that slowly merged into high rises as they sped toward the city.
“It’s not that different to Toronto,” he said.
Wade chuckled. “I suppose not. Some parts are.”
“Tell me about your neighbourhood. Queens Crescent sounds very grand and English,” He had been sent endless photos of the little white street. It reminded him of the scene at the start of Act Two in Oliver! when everyone was selling their wares.
“It’s lovely,” Wade said. “I think you’ll be impressed.”
Carra's Review
Jeremy has been through a lot with his mother’s passing, and presents as a sympathetic character. Heading to another country for a fresh start seems like just the thing he needs to figure out what he wants to do with his life, and it doesn’t hurt that his father is rich or that Jeremy will have some money coming in himself which will help him get started again.
Stuart is not a fan of people with money, which does make his choice of location for his florist shop interesting since he’s right in the middle of a high-end area. On the surface, the two of them don’t seem like a match. But Stuart isn’t aware that Jeremy doesn’t lack for funds, and Jeremy—knowing Stuart is not likely to give him the time of day if he were to find this out—doesn’t mention it. Right there you know there’s going to be conflict down the road, but Jeremy presses on regardless.
I did have a hard time feeling a true emotional connection between Jeremy and Stuart. The story didn’t really cover a long enough time period to allow for a lot of relationship development, so while the two did click when working together I wasn’t feeling that same connection for their romantic relationship. There’s also some minor conflict between Jeremy and his father, but it never really gets resolved within this story.
This does work as a holiday read though since it is set at the end of the year, so if you’re looking for another story set during Christmastime this one will fit the bill. This book is meant for readers 18+ for adult language and sexual content.
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of Christmas at Queens Crescent, Kristian is giving away a signed Paperback of the release!
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!
I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters.
I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into.
Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it.
Asa might be the head coach, but he’s a man first.
Blurb
Coach Asa Dawson has fallen wildly in love only twice in his life.
First with football.
Then with Scott Callaway.
But Scott isn’t just the one who got away.
He’s the one person—the one man—Asa hoped might finally show him how all-consuming passion could be.
Instead, fate (and football) intervened and they never got the chance to explore their attraction. Their friendship ended in ruins, Scott left, and Asa’s been torn between hating him and loving him for the last seven years.
Asa doesn’t think he’ll ever see him again, but when his bad habits catch up to him and he doesn’t have a choice but to accept help, he’s horrified—and exhilarated—to learn Scott’s been hired to assist him.
With the final stretch of the Piranhas season falling during the holidays, maybe what Asa and Scott have needed this whole time was a little Christmas magic to remind them the most important job isn’t to win the season—but to finally win each other’s hearts.
Excerpt
Scott’s hands were still trembling.
It was like being plugged back into a socket, after so long without electricity, being in Asa’s presence again.
Since he’d gotten the call from Beau, he hadn’t really let himself consider what it would mean. What it would feel like.
He’d only allowed himself the worry.
Asa was sick; he was struggling and in the goddamn hospital. Beau had reassured him, more than once, that he’d be fine, that the doctors weren’t particularly worried, they only wanted him to change his lifestyle.
Sleep more. Eat better. Work less.
That, Beau had said, was where he came in. He didn’t know anyone else who’d be able to convince Asa to relax the reins.
Scott had agreed, because after how things had gone seven years ago, how could he not? How could he not be there for Asa when he needed him, more than anyone else?
But he didn’t tell Beau that he wouldn’t be able to convince him of jack sh*t now.
Asa was, understandably, still pissed.
Scott couldn’t even blame him.
He was still pissed at himself.
He’d known the moment he landed in Washington that it was all wrong, that he’d made a mistake, that instead of trying to be so f*cking noble, he should have just taken Asa’s hand and kissed him and learned how to be happy.
No matter what that meant.
But he’d committed to leading Washington’s program, and he’d done that, for six years.
Then a year ago, they’d let him go, and he’d gone home, not to Tennessee, because Asa was still there, and the whole damn state didn’t feel big enough for the two of them, but back home to Alabama, to the small town he’d lived in before he’d gone to college.
“You alright?” Beau asked as they lingered at the front of the conference room, the rest of the coaching staff taking their seats, grumbling all the way.
It was deep into the season, it was the Monday after a game, and they were all tired.
Scott remembered exactly how it had felt, on those Mondays, even though he’d only ever coached in college, never in the NFL.
“Yeah, fine,” Scott said automatically.
He was not fine.
Not even remotely.
He’d thought . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d thought, exactly. But he hadn’t imagined that he and Asa would meet again like this. He’d imagined running into him—sorta, kinda, on purpose—on the Tennessee campus. He’d imagined making things right.
The part of the imagining he’d purposefully forgotten was that Asa was going to be justifiably pissed at him.
Carra's Review
I was so glad when I found out Asa would be getting his own story. This has several elements that I really like - older main characters, second chance romance, bisexual awakening - and it’s all in the setting of the Miami Piranhas.
While getting the backstory between Asa and Scott, I’ll admit I was a little frustrated with Scott and the way he left Asa behind the first time around. When they’re thrown together again here seven years later, there are plenty of pent-up feelings on both sides until finally that dam breaks. Even then, there’s still some unresolved issues, particularly when it comes to Beau, Asa’s son…just enough to add a bit more drama to their story.
Asa and Scott are fantastic together, and thanks to the circumstances the first time around and the setting with the team once Scott comes to Miami, their reunion makes for some pretty entertaining reading. There’s some laughs thrown in thanks to the Secret Santa the team is doing, and if you’ve already been reading the series, all the guys are here again as the supporting cast so we get to visit with some of our favorites from the rest of the stories.
Winning the Season was a solid 4-star read for me, and I’d absolutely recommend it to any romance fan (with bonus points for sports romance fans). While this is the fourth book in the series, you could read it on its own…though you’ll enjoy it even more if you read the books in order so you have the other characters’ own backstories. This book is meant for readers 18+ for adult language and sexual content.
About the Author
A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.
An oblivious prince wishes for his knight in shining armor. His knight has been under his nose all along, will he claim him before it's too late for them both?
As deeply as he craves his own fairy tale happily-ever-after, resort owner Cody Prescott doesn't have time for a relationship. That doesn't stop him from crushing on most men on Piedras. Luckily for him, they're emotionally unavailable or already taken, so he doesn't have to worry about getting attached.
Wade Buckner, the island's handiest handyman, is tired of waiting for Cody to wake up and realize Wade is the man for the job. He's ready and willing to rescue Cody from just about anything, even questionable hotel guests.
The Harvest Feast is the kick-off for the resort's one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary and they have a full house. But something sinister is afoot at the resort, something that even his knight might not be able to rescue Cody from.
Are they trying to kill him, put him out of business, or both?
#grumpy-sunshine #FamilyHistory #OnlyOneBed
The Real Thing, book five in the West Coast Forensics series, is dual POV and follows Cody and Wade all the way to their happy ending. Can be read as a standalone but might be better enjoyed if you start with Real Trouble, first in the WCF series.
Wade knew one thing though. He was making some changes and it was starting with Cody Prescott. After today.
After today, he wasn’t rushing to Cody whenever he called. That era was over. In the last six months or so, it had become painfully obvious that Cody Prescott had no idea Wade existed except as a walking tool box.
Except the fact that he suggested you move in with him, that irritating voice reminded him.
Cody was always about to fall in love or mooning over a random hot guy he’d seen on the ferry. Once it was the new Food Services of America sales bro with his RayBan sunglasses. And his brown eyes lit up when Chief Flynn stopped by for the biannual safety inspection, in a way Wade knew they never did when Cody looked at him.
Leaving his bulging rucksack locked in the truck, Wade slammed the door, jiggling the handle so it would shut properly, and jammed his hands into the extra-thick semi-weatherproof Carhartt hoodie Cody had given him as “sort of a bonus” after Wade had complained about how f*cking drafty his studio was.
Yeah, and the socks too. So, he does think about you, his inner voice snarked.
Whatever. However Cody thought of him, it wasn’t the way Wade wanted him to. Just one of these days Wade wanted Cody Prescott to look at him with the same hunger in his eyes that he had when a suited-up or otherwise expensively dressed guy with sunglasses on his head and a Rolex on his wrist strode into the resort, brandishing their American Express Black cards and platinum wives or girlfriends.
Bitter much?
Wade was rough. His hair was longer than the guys Cody looked at wore theirs. After separating from the military, he’d sworn he would never keep it short again. His razor hardly ever saw use. Wade’s clothing came from Costco, his work boots from Red Wing, and he didn’t have designer soap or fancy aftershave. He was plain old Wade Buckner, a low-end model for a boyfriend.
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of The Real Thing, we're giving away an e-set of the West Coast Forensics Series so far (5 eBooks)!
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!
Elle Keaton writes contemporary gay romance and MM romantic suspense set in the Pacific Northwest. Elle’s books are known for their hot mm romance, complex characters, and unique sense of place. The men start out broken, and maybe they’re still banged up by the end, but they always find the other half of their hearts.
Elle published first in 2017, now she has over seventeen books available for you to read or listen to.
She loves cats and dogs, Star Wars and Star Trek, pineapple on pizza, and is known to start crossword puzzles with ballpoint pen.
Love always wins, thank you for supporting this indie author!
Getting involved with a mafia don was a horrible idea. Falling in love with one was worse.
Blurb
Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.
But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.
It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen.
If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.
Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat. He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back.
It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.
There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.
Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute. He’s a cop for the NYPD.
Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.
Excerpt
“Quit staring.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, you are, honey, and I don’t blame you. Those shoulders go on for dayzzz.”
“I feel like you said that with a ‘z’. Possibly multiple of them.”
“Oh, I did, sweet pea. And that ass. I have one word for it: yum.”
“You literally sound like you’re drooling. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been staring, Tessa?”
“Of course, I have been!” She didn’t sound the least bit ashamed about it either. “Look at that gorgeous specimen of a man. If he’s not the offspring of some Greek god’s bastard, I will chop off my right tit.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”
Even as he pretended to gag over his partner’s declaration, however, Micah found his gaze – and attention – drifting back to the man they were discussing: the supposed descendent of a Greek god.
He was tall, at least a couple of inches past six feet, and the suit jacket he was wearing clung to the expanse of his impressively broad shoulders. Said shoulders tapered off to form a trim waist, under which matching pinstripe pants gripped onto thick thighs – which Micah hadn’t known he had a thing for until now.
Seriously, even from a distance, Micah knew those things had to be ripped. The man’s entire body looked rock-solid. Micah couldn’t quite make out any facial features, but if there was any justice in the world, the man must have had the epitome of a butter-face.
Still, Micah could probably look past it, considering, as Tessa had so eloquently put it: “that ass”.
“Micah,” Tessa hissed into his earpiece. (Speak of the devil.) “I said to quit. You’re not even trying to hide your ogling now.”
“You also said to look,” he couldn’t help but point out, but he obediently dropped his gaze to the ground, anyway. He was wearing a pair of shabby red Converse. There were holes on the top of the right one where his toes threatened to peek out, and the left had a loose outsole that liked to flap when he walked.
Not exactly his usual style, but it wasn’t like Micah had picked them out himself. In fact, he hadn’t picked out any part of his current ensemble.
“I meant metaphorically. You’re in the middle of an undercover operation. You can’t let yourself be distracted by every hottie that walks by; you need to keep your wits about you.”
Okay, first of all, that wasn’t just any hottie. Secondly-
“You’re my handler,” he pointed out. “You need to keep your wits about you.”
“Oh, you don’t worry about my wits, honey. I’m not the one that’s thirsting after some babelicious stranger, completely ignoring the potential john coming in at three o’clock.”
Micah tensed, subtly peeking in the direction she’d indicated.
Tessa was right.
A man dressed in a cheap suit was quickly approaching, the graying hair near his temples and the deep-set wrinkles of his brow indicating he was probably in his late forties or early fifties. His uneven gait and the stumble in his step meant he was probably drunk.
Micah tried not to grimace as the man got closer and he spotted the wedding band on his finger. The guy didn’t really fit the profile they’d come up with for their perp – he was too old and looked to be married to boot.
Most likely, he was just another asshole going through a midlife crisis – not the serial killer going around killing male prostitutes they were searching for.
Micah voiced his thoughts aloud, muttering lowly into the mic hidden in his shirt – if the obscene, canary yellow crop top he was wearing could even be considered a shirt. “I doubt he’s our guy, Tess. Too sloppy.”
“Probably not,” the woman agreed, “but you never know. You of all people should know that looks can be deceiving. Let him pick you up. If nothing else, you’ll be able to arrest him for solicitation.”
Resigning himself to do as she suggested, Micah let himself sink into the brick wall he was lounging against near the mouth of an alley. He winced as the brick scratched against his exposed lower back where his shirt didn’t quite cover the skin, but he forced himself to school his expression as the man moved closer.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected to be picked up within the first fifteen minutes of his shift.
“How much?”
Apparently, Mr. Midlife Crisis wasn’t one for small talk. Which was unfortunate because Micah needed him to actually say the words. “How much for what?” he asked.
“Don’t be coy, you little tart.” Micah fought the urge to wrinkle his nose when the man took another step forward and the stench of alcohol hit him straight in the face.
He wasn’t intimidated – or, at least, that was what he told himself when arms braced themselves on either side of his head, effectively trapping Micah against the brick wall. Sure, he didn’t have his Glock, but Tessa was watching out for him. Not to mention the fact that he was well-versed in hand-to-hand if worse came to worst.
“$100,” Micah said, knowing he was highballing the man even before his bloodshot eyes widened in disbelief.
“$100?” he repeated, scoffing. “For a loose hole like yours? I’ll give you $50 if you can even make me bust my nut.”
This. douchebag.
Micah had planned on just wrangling the man’s hands behind his back and arresting him as soon as he’d said enough to incriminate himself, but now he was pissed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were asking after my mouth,” he retorted. “If you want a piece of the filet mignon, the going rate’s 300 bucks.”
He heard Tessa sigh into his earpiece, and judging by the dull thud that followed, could perfectly picture her banging her head against the steering wheel of the undercover van she was parked in across the street.
“300 bucks?” Mr. Midlife Crisis sneered. “Who do you think you are? Sluts like you are hardly worth the time it takes for you to get me off.”
“You’re the one who approached me, buddy,” Micah reminded him. “Must be worth something.”
Admittedly, he wasn’t expecting for the guy to take him by the hair, backpedal him into the alley, and smash his head against the wall. The hit wasn’t hard enough to make his ears ring, but Micah’s eyes watered involuntarily when the man’s grip on his hair tightened, and he leaned his face into his personal space. “How about this, you little bitch? Since your ass is apparently off limits, why don’t you get on your knees so I can show you how you ought to be treating your customers with that smart mouth? Consider it a free lesson. If you manage to bring me to finish, I’ll even think about leaving a tip.”
Alright, play time was over.
This guy was more than just your typical drunkard looking to pick up a hooker – he clearly didn’t give a rat’s ass whether Micah was willing to blow him or not, he was going to make him. The fact that there were real people out there working the streets and being treated this way – probably pretty regularly – made anger burn hot in Micah’s gut. He was about to elbow the asshole in the throat and force him to his knees so he could slap the zip ties he had hidden on his person for just this reason around his wrists when Mr. Midlife Crisis was abruptly pulled off of him-
“Get your f*cking hands off him!”
-and punched in the face by the man he and Tessa had been ogling but five minutes earlier.
Micah watched, taken aback, as the Greek god lookalike pulled back his fist and pummeled the man again. And again. His assaulter fell back onto his ass after the third hit. He scrambled backward awkwardly, attempting to shield his bloody face from more attacks while simultaneously doing the crab walk.
Micah may have laughed if he weren’t so stunned.
Carra's Review
I usually stay away from stories with mafia characters as I’m not a fan of main characters who willingly engage in unsavory illegal dealings. Something about how Damon was introduced in the blurb snagged my attention though, and I decided to give this story a chance. I’m so glad I did, because this was such a good read!
I loved Damon’s protective caretaker personality, and how he considered Micah’s needs first. Behind his rough mafioso exterior he’s more like a teddy bear when it comes to Micah. As for Micah, he can take care of himself…though he doesn’t let Damon know that. They do make a great couple though, I really liked the two of them together, even when I was frustrated that Micah wasn’t telling Damon who he really was.
Along with the mistaken identity and enemies-to-lovers themes, there was the mystery of the serial killer to solve, so there’s drama to go along with the romance. More drama entered the picture from certain family members as well. All of it was plenty to keep my attention from page one through the end, and made this an engaging story.
Pretty Policeman was a strong 4-star read for me, and was a great M/M romance debut from this author. I wound up being okay with the more distasteful aspects of Damon’s life, mostly because of that soft side he exhibited with Micah. I think both hardcore mafia romance fans as well as those like me who are not really fans of the genre will both find a lot to like about this story. I do recommend this for readers 18+ for adult language and sexual content.
About the Author
Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.
When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance. She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity. She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.
While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.
Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling. (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)
