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The Escort
Are you a book reviewer? -- EXCERPT: Joe Cavendish swallowed a groan as he stared at the tantalizing ass ten feet from him. That little tease. I’m sure he’s doing it on purpose. “Do you have to be on your hands and knees for that?” he said with a sigh. “It’s not exactly as if I’m a fucking slave driver, you know. I did just buy one of those ridiculously expensive mopping robots for the staff to use.” Ethan Skye looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Joe where the latter sat at the bar drinking a coffee. “Your robot knows dick about oak floors. And I’m not cleaning. I’m fixing the scratch that asshole made when he dragged that metal case in here yesterday. I mean, who the fuck lugs that kind of shit around? And, FYI, his gin tasted like crap, so we’re not getting it.” Joe arched an eyebrow and glanced around Saron’s opulent interior. “You do realize I own the place, right?” Ethan gave the floor a final wipe with a polishing cloth and rose to his feet. “And I’m your best bartender. What’s your point?” He placed his toolbox on the counter and studied Joe with a haughty expression. Joe couldn’t deny the truth of his words. Although Saron had rapidly gained a reputation as the most exclusive gay club in Tokyo since he first opened for business four years ago, part of its phenomenal success of late had a lot to do with the stunning blond with the captivating green eyes who had waltzed into his club eleven months ago and demanded he give him a job. It wasn’t every day that someone made Joe Cavendish look at them twice. Ethan Skye had made him look twice, three times, and a dozen more after that. That fact alone should have had Joe running hell-for-leather in the other direction. He couldn’t recall the last time his body had had such an immediate, visceral reaction to a stranger, even during his years working as an escort. Still, he’d found himself unable to deny the demand in the mesmerizing green eyes that had bored so intensely into him and had reluctantly invited the young man back for an interview the week after. Surprise had darted through Joe when Ethan had pulled out his résumé and asked if he could do the interview there and then, offering the club owner a foretaste of his bossy nature. Joe had taken the professional, double-sided sheet and studied it with a frown. “Says here you’re a Stanford business graduate.” He’d looked up into Ethan’s cool expression. “Why the hell would you want to be a bartender in Shinjuku?” “I’m not made for a city job. Besides, I almost flunked business school.” Joe had bought that cock-and-bull story about as much as he believed in Santa Claus. He’d been around the block enough times to tell when somebody was harboring secrets. After all, he had some pretty dark ones of his own. Ethan had passed his interview with flying colors and didn’t even blink when Joe challenged him to make Saron’s trademark cocktail and give it his own personal twist. One sip of the intoxicating drink Ethan made was all it took for Joe to realize he shouldn’t let the cocky blond slip out of his hands and into a competitor’s clutches. In the months since Ethan had been at Saron, the bartender had become a key member of his staff. He got on with everyone, including the normally taciturn doormen, and had charmed all the patrons with his quick wit and exquisite drinks. The fact that he was goddamn easy on the eye didn’t hurt either. Had Joe known at the time the fresh hell he would be inviting into his life by giving Ethan the bartending job, he would probably have refused the young man. Joe knew a lot of the club’s patrons would kill to get their hands on Saron’s newest bartender. Not only was Ethan drop-dead gorgeous, he had also been blessed with a naturally athletic physique; just enough muscle not to be brawny and the entire package perfectly toned in all the right places. Places Joe had been aching to touch for months. As days turned to weeks and weeks to months, the spark that had been there between them from the start had ignited into a maelstrom of full-blown lust that had Joe’s cock aching most times he came within twenty feet of the alluring bartender. It didn’t help that he’d once walked in on Ethan in the staff changing room and gotten an eyeful of the delicious body he’d been fantasizing about. Joe had wondered for days afterward how many men had kissed the mole he’d glimpsed on Ethan’s right hip, just above his low-riding briefs. And how many more had tasted his honey skin and claimed his tight ass. The fact that Ethan wouldn’t refuse Joe made their situation all the more bittersweet. He had made it abundantly clear he was gay from the first day he started working at Saron. And just as Joe’s eyes seemed to gravitate to Ethan whenever they were in the same room, Ethan always tracked him with his heated gaze in return. But even though Ethan had turned the carefully ordered life Joe had built over the last few years upside down and had become the source of some of Joe’s filthiest fantasies, hooking up with the young man was the one thing the club owner wouldn’t let happen. He’d had his fingers burned once before when he’d mixed business with pleasure, and he’d made it a rule never to do so again. Unfortunately, Ethan didn’t seem to agree with him on the clear dividing lines Joe had set from the start of their working relationship. He was constantly pushing at the boundaries, testing the limits of Joe’s patience and his raging libido. Just as he was doing right now. “I’ve spoken to our regular gin supplier,” Joe said with a grunt. “It seems the shortfall we’re experiencing is going to last some time. We need to find another company to get our stock from.” He hesitated. “Eveline can probably—” “No!” Ethan snapped. The mere mention of the name Joe had just uttered made the bartender grit his teeth. “Give me a day. I’ll get you another supplier by tomorrow.” Joe bit back a frustrated sigh at Ethan’s stormy expression. He still didn’t know how Ethan had discovered his connection with Le Secret, the internationally renowned, upscale escort service Joe used to work for before he started Saron. It sure as hell hadn’t come from one of Joe’s other staff, who knew nothing of his past. The brainchild of Eveline Claude, a former escort and professional dominatrix, Le Secret catered only to the wealthiest of clientele—from politicians and royalty, to movie stars and billionaires. With clubs in five cities around the world, the business advertised itself as offering a strictly social service, even though a lot of its clients were really after sex. Eveline had always made it clear that what happened behind closed doors was a private matter between client and escort, and she’d kicked out plenty of both over the years who hadn’t followed the strict rules she laid out for her clubs. Though he was no longer in Eveline’s employ, Joe still accepted the odd gig from her. After all, she was the one who had saved him from the nightmare he’d been living in when he worked in the shady underworld of New York’s sex and strip clubs between the ages of fifteen and twenty-four. He also owed her big time for the loan she’d given him to set up his own business, money he’d paid back within a year of opening Saron’s doors. That most people would find his background and previous lifestyle distasteful was not something that kept Joe awake at night. Yet Ethan’s reaction when he’d first challenged Joe about the jobs he still took on for Le Secret’s owner had stung. It wasn’t judgment Joe had read in Ethan’s eyes that day. It was resentment and frustration that Joe could willingly sleep with a complete stranger but not lay a finger on him. Joe considered the young man presently scowling at him; he knew not to disbelieve the words he had just spoken. Ethan had made similar promises in the past on the rare occasions Joe had been in a fix and always delivered on them. Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’d really like to know who your source is.” The corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted in an insolent smile that made Joe want to kiss him hard. “I’m afraid I would have to kill you if I revealed that information.” A bark of laughter left Joe’s lips at the threat. His groin tightened at the torrid image that flashed across his inner vision. Of Ethan slowly and sweetly killing him with his exquisite body while he straddled Joe and rode his cock, his sexy hips undulating with every hard thrust of Joe’s dick while his filthy mouth opened on throaty cries and moans. “Here, pour me another coffee.” Ethan rolled his eyes. “Yes, master.” Joe swallowed another groan. Yup, he’s doing it deliberately.
GIVEAWAY!
One Night
by A.M. Salinger (Night Series, #1) Publication date: January 12th 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
Synopsis:
One night was all I asked for. For him to show me how good it can be. — Gabe One night was all I promised. To give him the best time of his life. — Cam Gabe Anderson wants nothing more than to overcome the scars of his past. Moving to a new city halfway across the world is one thing. Walking into the most exclusive gay bar in town to hook up with a perfect stranger is a whole new ball game. Cam Sorvino doesn’t do relationships. Period. Having buried his dark childhood behind him, he lives life to the fullest and likes his sex hot, dirty, and for one night only. Though Cam’s instincts tell him that Gabe isn’t the one-night kind of guy, he can’t stop himself from approaching him. When Cam discovers the true extent of Gabe’s harrowing secrets, he makes him an offer he cannot refuse: one night of mindless pleasure to help him overcome his phobia of intimacy. But when morning comes, will Cam be able to let go of the one man who is able to stir new feelings inside his cold, dead heart? If you like sweet, sexy men with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to win their hearts, then you’ll love this first novella in the hot, contemporary romance series Nights by A.M. Salinger. This is a MM romance with a HFN. Cam and Gabe’s HEA is coming mid 2018!
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36642986-one-night Purchase: https://www.amazon.com/One-Night-Nights-Book-1-ebook/dp/B077Q4H3LR Extra: One Night Special Preview on Instafreebie https://www.instafreebie.com/free/Kz0jq
Excerpt:
What the hell am I doing here? Gabe Anderson scanned the crowded club in the mirror opposite the bar before looking down into his scotch with a self-deprecating smile. This had seemed like such a great idea an hour ago, when he’d been staring at an empty weekend in an even emptier apartment. Saron was located in a side alley, a short walk from Shinjuku’s main club strip. Despite its somewhat shady location, the place oozed style. Gabe had hesitated when he’d seen the suited doorman guarding the entrance and wondered if access was by invitation only. He only knew of Saron from overhearing his clients mention it a few nights ago. From what he’d made of their excited conversation, it was the place to hang out in Shinjuku if you were of a particular sexual inclination. The doorman had checked Gabe over for all of three seconds before wordlessly unclipping the rope from the stanchions framing the steel doors. He had obviously passed some kind of test, though what it was he didn’t know. Beyond a foyer with a cloakroom manned by a male attendant who looked like he’d walked straight out of a GQ shoot were a set of shallow steps leading to a wide, sunken floor. Despite the butterflies churning his stomach, Gabe had stopped and stared appreciatively at the decor. As a consultant for one of Chicago’s biggest design firms, he could tell how much money had gone into giving Saron its unique look. The club was drowned in deep reds, dark purples, and rich earth tones. Scattered across the oak floor were Brazilian cherry wood tables and armchairs boasting plush velvet upholstery and satin cushions. Discrete booths dotted the walls and afforded privacy to those who needed it, although the muted lighting provided enough of that as it was. A polished mahogany counter with wine-red leather and walnut stools ran the length of the bar on the right. At the far end of the room, a woman in a black cocktail dress stood on a raised podium. She was crooning a song in a sultry, deep voice, her eyes closed and her glossy ruby lips glistening in the mellow spotlight. Behind her, cymbals vibrated gently, a piano tinkled, and a saxophone hummed, the sounds somehow rising above the voices of the men packing the place. It was as he’d made his way to the bar that Gabe had realized why the doorman had let him in. From the looks of the club’s patrons, Saron catered exclusively to an upscale clientele. He was willing to bet a week’s wages none of the suits in the place cost less than five hundred dollars. “Ah, fresh meat.” Gabe froze in the act of sitting on a barstool, his gaze swinging up to meet a pair of amused green eyes on the other side of the mahogany counter. “Excuse me?” he said stiffly. The bartender, a striking blond in a slate, silk tuxedo vest and crisp white shirt, flashed him a grin. “I’ve not seen you around these parts before. What will it be?” Gabe swallowed, wondering whether the man had seen straight through him and grasped the reason he had come to Saron. “What will what be?” he mumbled, unable to mask the apprehension in his voice. The bartender pursed his lips and observed him with a shrewd expression before leaning across the counter. “Relax,” he murmured in Gabe’s left ear. “I can tell it’s your first time in a place like this. If you keep up that deer-in-the-headlights look you’ve got painted across that pretty face of yours, you’re gonna be a target for every sleaze ball in this club. And, trust me, they might be wearing thousand-dollar ensembles, but some of these assholes are nothing but dirty pigs in suits.” An involuntary bark of laughter left Gabe’s lips at the mental image the bartender’s words had conjured. The sound carried along the counter, drawing stares. The knot of tension that had been sitting between Gabe’s shoulder blades ever since he ventured into Shinjuku eased as he smiled at the bartender. “I’ve never been called pretty before.” The guy winked. “Trust me, you’re the hottest thing on legs in this place right now. Besides me, of course.” Gabe chuckled and ordered a scotch, his confidence boosted by the compliment. Two months had passed since he’d relocated to Tokyo from Chicago. When his bosses had sprung the offer on Gabe in early spring, the chance of a fresh start in a place void of the dark memories that had plagued him for eight years was too much of an attractive proposition for him to reject. He’d left Chicago with two suitcases and five crates full of books and artwork, the only things he had to show after a decade in the city. Though he had been prepared for the culture shock, life in Tokyo had still come as a surprise, albeit an invigorating one. He had always had an interest in the country and its intoxicating mix of traditional and contemporary customs ever since he made his first business trip to the Japanese branch of the firm four years ago. Luckily, his new position suited him to a T. He had thrown himself into his first assignment with his usual drive and passion, leading the team under him to make good on a project, one which his predecessor had only made a half-assed attempt to complete. He had delivered on time, on budget, and on schedule, despite the nearly impossible deadline. The crazy hours and weekends he had put in had not gone unnoticed, and the praise lavished on his team at the grand opening of their client’s luxury hotel earlier that week was all the acknowledgment Gabe needed to realize he had made the right choice in moving to this city. The fact that the money he was making could easily afford him a two-bedroom condo in the exclusive neighborhood of Meguro didn’t hurt, either. Yet, despite having relocated thousands of miles to the other side of the world, his mind would not let go of the bite of his past. Which was why, when faced with the prospect of his first free weekend and the boxes he had yet to unpack, he had looked up Saron’s location on the spur of the moment and decided to take a gamble. He had promised himself this move would not be just a fresh start for his mind, but for his body, too. That he would start taking risks in his personal life again. That he would not let the bastard who had made it impossible for him to ever have a satisfying physical relationship win. Fifteen minutes into his first drink and Gabe wondered whether he had made a bad choice. So far, Ethan, the bartender, had helped him field a burly, yakuza-looking type with tattoos up the side of his neck, three old men with sweaty palms and bald patches, and a couple of young guys who looked barely past the legal age of drinking. With his lean build, dark hair, and blue eyes, Gabe knew he was an attractive prospect. Add in that he was a foreigner and he was coming to the conclusion that he had become a beeline for all the men in the bar who wanted to make a conquest out of the white guy – a white notch in the proverbial bedpost. They all wanted to fuck him or be fucked by him. A cynical half-smile twisted his lips at that thought. If only they knew. He raised a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the warm spot that had been bothering him for a while. Something made him look up from his drink then – call it instinct or that subconscious voice that warns of imminent danger. Movement in the mirror opposite the bar caught his gaze. Or, more precisely, a lack of it. Stormy gray eyes pierced him from the other end of the club. They locked on him, a beam of light in the gloom. Transfixing him. Immobilizing him. Gabe’s breath caught in his throat, every muscle in his body tightening in fight-or-flight mode. The man sat apart from the crowd, alone at a table that could have accommodated three, a tumbler full of dark liquid clasped casually in his left hand. His red silk tie was crooked, as if he had slipped a finger through the knot to loosen it. The top two buttons on his white shirt were open, revealing tan skin covering toned muscles and a hint of curls. Gabe couldn’t tell whether his hair was dark brown or dirty blond. It was hard to say in the dim light. What wasn’t hard to see were the subtle and not-so-subtle stares the other men in the bar were giving the stranger. With his stubbled face, smoldering looks, and what appeared to be an incredibly ripped body beneath a custom-tailored charcoal suit, the man looked like a king sitting on a throne, commanding a roomful of servants. Servants who appeared more than willing to either get fucked by him or fuck him if he so much as lifted his little finger. And a man like that would not have to ask twice. Envy and irritation flashed through Gabe at that thought, shattering the spell he found himself under. He broke eye contact, shocked by the feelings suddenly flooding him, and glared at his half-empty glass. It seemed to mock him, as if it were a reflection of his own life. A half-empty, broken shell. Incapable of touching someone or to be touched. Gabe lifted the glass and downed the rest of the drink with an angry flick of his wrist. Fire singed his throat. He welcomed the burning sensation, hoping it would calm the pounding in his chest and the tightness in his belly and groin that told him his body had reacted to the stranger. A full glass of scotch appeared next to his empty tumbler. Gabe looked up at Ethan, puzzled. A remorseful grimace flashed across the bartender’s face. “Looks like we’re no longer the two hottest bastards in this joint. Here, compliments of the King.” Gabe stared at the drink before slowly looking over his shoulder, his pulse picking up speed. Gray Eyes raised his glass in a toast. A teasing smile played on his sculptured lips before he knocked back his drink. You’re kidding me. Gabe tried to block out the heated tingle running across his skin at the stranger’s cocky smirk and the way his powerful throat muscles worked when he swallowed. He turned to Ethan. “That’s his actual name?” Ethan grunted. “Well, no. But the asshole sure acts like one.” There was movement in the mirror opposite Gabe.
Author Bio:
Ava Marie Salinger is the pen name of an Amazon bestselling thriller author who has always wanted to write scorching hot contemporary and erotic romance. In 2017, she finally decided to venture to the steamy side. NIGHTS is the first of several sizzling series featuring sweet, sexy men and women with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to fight for their hearts. When she’s not dreaming up hotties to write about, you’ll find Ava creating kickass music playlists to write to, spying on the wildlife in her garden, drooling over gadgets, and eating Chinese.
Want to be the first to know about Ava’s new releases and get access to exclusive content, sneak previews, sales, and giveaways ? Then sign up to her Reader Group here.
Here are some other places where you can connect with her: https://www.amsalinger.com/ https://www.facebook.com/AMSalinger https://www.instagram.com/authoramsalinger/ https://www.bookbub.com/profile/a-m-salinger https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17356624.A_M_Salinger https://www.pinterest.co.uk/amsalinger/ |
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