Hey, Graylin! Thanks for having me. I’m here to talk about my new release Flipped, a contemporary male/male short story about two guys flipping a house together.
Here’s the house. Isn’t it nice? Okay, maybe it needs a new coat of paint, but the inside is really shaping up. Thanks to Mario and Carter’s weekend work on every room in the place.
Mario swears they’ll triple their money when they sell the place. Would you like an excerpt? This is during the awkward morning after, and they still have work to do:
“I’m not going to get a damn thing done today.” Carter spoke over the racket of the compressor’s motor and the stereo where Mario had plugged in his MP3 player.
Mario tossed aside the sweat-soaked T-shirt he’d just peeled over his head, and turned to look over his shoulder at Carter. Every window in the house stood wide open, but there wasn’t a breeze to clean out the stuffy air caused by drywall dust, the compressor for the air-powered tools, and the sweat and heat from two male bodies.
“Too hot for you?”
“Very hot.” Carter set the trowel down and took off his own shirt. “But I think I can handle it.”
Mario watched each muscle in Carter’s abs ripple back into place as he lowered his arms. The freckle on his hipbone peeked from behind his waistband, making Mario’s mouth water. “Maybe we should work in separate rooms. I think I’d get more done if I didn’t stop to stare and daydream every thirty seconds.”
Carter shook his head. “Nice try. I know you hate drywall, and this is your way of getting out of finishing this job.” He crossed the room, a dangerous glint in his eye.
“No… I swear. That’s not what I meant.” Mario dropped the tape measure onto the tarp-covered floor. “It’s just hard—”
Carter reached him then and pulled him into a kiss, smothering the rest of his words before they even made it from his brain.
“It’s hard, huh?” Carter’s hand curled around Mario’s crotch, cupping his balls through his jeans.
Mario bucked into the caress. “It’s getting harder.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Ahh… no. Wait. Yes. I mean… I can’t focus.”
“You’ve been focused all afternoon. Barely said two sentences in the last hour. Didn’t even sing along to that old Whitesnake song.” He jerked his chin toward the radio in the corner. “Now that’s focus.”
For more about Flipped, visit my website.
Thanks so much for having me, Graylin! I’d like to give away a copy of Flipped (or winner’s choice of my backlist) to one of your readers! If you’d like a chance to win, just comment here.