And it's finally here!
my first m/m erotic novel.
www.EllorasCave.com
After a seven-year absence, only a catastrophic event could bring Trace Tilton home to Farley Gulch — like his father having a heart attack. Once Bud's on the mend, Trace plans to leave the Triple T Ranch again. He's certain his gruff father will never accept his…lifestyle.
Triple T foreman Nash Stokes thinks Farley Gulch is the ideal place for a man to live a simple life — and keep his sexual preference a secret. A hot roll in the hay with his boss's gorgeous son is the last thing he expected.Before long, scorching passion and small-town rumor find both men taking a Hard Ride Home.
Excerpt:
What had possessed Trace to ask Nash to the bar?
If he tried, he could convince himself he'd made the invitation to provide a barrier between him, Colette and the rest of the town. He didn't want to rekindle past friendships. Maybe if he planned to stay, but realistically it wouldn't work. He enjoyed men, liked to work out at the gym with his friends, enjoyed a good meal at a nice restaurant. And if he went on a date and the night ended in bed, all the better.
Heading down the hall to his old room, he passed by the cracked-open bathroom door and froze. Steam clouded the mirror. Pipes rattled under the water pressure. There was no mistaking Nash on the other side of the glass shower door. His head tipped back, water and shampoo suds sluicing over his body.
Trace couldn't turn or walk away. Breathing became difficult. His heart hammered in his chest. The man was fucking gorgeous. Solid muscle, long legs with heavy thighs and dark whorls of hair on his pectorals. A thin ribbon of hair trailed down his stomach and surrounded a beautiful cock. Christ. Nash's balls hung heavy in a dark sac. He swallowed hard. Nash reached down and shut off the water.
Trace turned away and leaned against the hallway wall. He tried to quiet his labored breathing. But his heart raced and chills broke along his skin. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The shower door opened and the creak of the towel rack gave Trace a perfect idea of what was happening on the other side of the wall.
The last thing he needed was for the rough cowboy to discover him with a hard-on in his pants. He quickly walked down the hall to his room.
Opening the door, he realized his hand shook.
Well, hell. Apparently, he didn't have a room anymore.
Trace glanced down the hall toward the bathroom. Nash stood a few feet away with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair. Several strands clung to the bronzed skin of his neck.
"You moved into my old room?"
Nash approached. Trace liked the way the towel parted, teasing him with a glimpse of thigh. Black hair on his calves and shins also covered his upper legs. Trace liked manly men. Nothing feminine. He wanted aggression, testosterone and a big tool. Nash had it all in spades.
"Didn't know this was your room." Nash brushed past him and Trace caught a whiff of soap and male. He stopped just inside the room and turned to Trace. Their eyes locked.
A lump the size of a boulder lodged in Trace's throat. Normally he wasn't at a loss for words. Yet he stood at the threshold of his old room filled with Nash's belongings and tried to think of something to say—anything—because Nash waited there naked with the exception of the terrycloth towel. Clean-shaven, wet hair slicked back and his skin carrying a healthy flush from the hot water.
Awkward silence stretched between the two men. Trace couldn't help noticing the growing bulge behind the towel. Picking up guys in a gay bar or introductions made through friends didn't require a declaration of sexual preference. But shit if he could tell what rumbled around in Nash's head. Normal intuition failed. He wasn't getting the vibe. The one that expressed interest.
Yet, straight men didn't tend to make eye contact with other men when wearing a towel and sporting a boner.
"I'm getting dressed." Nash loosened the towel.
Trace forgot to breathe. His heart pounded and his cock jumped. Muscles in his ass clenched with need. Saliva filled his mouth with want of sucking Nash off. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth—hard.
Nash's eyebrow rose in question. "Did you need something?"
Leave me a comment, tell me who you think sounds yummier, Trace or Nash, tell me your plans for the Holidays or tell me what you want for Christmas. Any comment will do. :)
KyAnn
