Résultats de "K.M. Neuhold" dans Toutes les catégories

The thing about guys is that we communicate on a physical, primal level. A hearty slap on the backside just means “good game, bro”. Some good old fashioned roughhousing just means we’re comfortable with each other. Some late night stress relief? Just dudes being dudes… Right? We’re just friends. Just roommates. Just a couple of guys doing what guys do. So what if I can’t stop thinking about kissing him? Is there a way I can “no homo” my way out of this? If I'm really honest with myself, I don't think I even want to. So… maybe YES, homo?

Is there such thing as love at first bar fight? I may be small and pretty, but what I lack in intimidation factor, I make up for in violence. I made a vow five years ago that the motorcycle club responsible for my brother’s death would pay the price, and I’m finally ready to collect. May God have mercy on the men who hurt my brother, because I don’t plan to.

He hated me from the second he laid eyes on me, and I don't have the first clue why.... But, if he wants to hate me, I'm happy to give him a few reasons: mowing the lawn at dawn on the weekend, leaving garbage cans in front of his driveway, renting a petting zoo for my backyard...making a list of ways to drive him crazy is half the fun.

A drunken wedding to a man who already rejected me once? Check. A hefty bet about how long it will last? Check. My feisty new husband, determined to make our friends pay up? Double check. I've never managed to make a real relationship last nearly a year, and there's no way Daniel will stick around long enough to win this bet.

It took me over 35 years to admit to myself that I’m gay, another seven to find the courage to say it out loud to anyone else, and exactly 30 seconds to develop a massive crush on my daughter’s music teacher. It’s really not my fault. Have you even seen those cute bowties he wears? After everything it’s taken to get here, am I going to work up the nerve to come out to my ex-wife and my best friends?

Stud: A boss, knob, or nail head...or, you know, the hot guy who’s way too young to keep asking me out with that adorably earnest smile...It’s been three years since West walked into my bar and asked me out for the first time. I was relieved he stopped asking after the first few “no's" and a way-too-good-to-be-real kiss. He’s 15 years younger than I am; it can only lead to trouble.

The last place I expected to run into my childhood camp crush was at the local university, looking all kinds of cute in a tweed jacket with a nervous blush. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for the nerdy professor type. Demetri says he doesn’t date. I want to believe that it’s true and not that he’s not interested in a transgender man like me.

We couldn't be more different, but Lyric has always been the one that got away. My first love. My High Note. After 8 years solving the mysteries of the universe as a nuclear physicist, I burnt out. I needed a break, and spending a summer as a bartender on Palm Island sounded like the perfect cure. I expected the wild parties, strong drinks, and loose dress code. What I didn't expect was to step off the ferry and see the man I let get away nearly a decade ago. Lyric and I couldn't be more different. I'm an introvert, he's always the life of the party.

The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart. All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch. Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me. But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?

After more than a decade, the last person I expected to see walk into the Four Bears Construction offices as a new hire was Ridge. He was my first crush, and my first heartbreak when he started dating my sister. When he left her at the altar without so much as a note, I wrote him off for good. No amount of excuses and explanations can erase what he did. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. But when we end up being sent to a remote campground alone to spend a month rebuilding the cabins, it’s too easy to remember why I fell for him in the first place.

I’m everyone’s friend, but no one’s everything...I love working for Ballsy Boys, but when you make the kind of videos I do, relationships are pretty damn impossible. Guys find me sexy and want to either be with me or be me, but no one has ever cared enough to see the real me. Until I meet Troy...who shows up in a banana suit at my door. Long story.

Shallow pretty boy, conceited fuckboy, immature assclown. Take your pick, they all apply to Brewer. The world is his ass buffet, and we’re all on the menu. I’ve never hated anyone like I hate Brewer. But when Rebel pairs us to do a scene together, I have to admit I’m looking forward to taking all my irritation out on his...well, you get the picture. When one scene turns into a whole fake relationship, I’m not sure we’re going to make it out of this without some bloodshed.

Hockey star Diego Ferguson says he knows about the grind, but he’s about to learn that his new personal trainer, Callan, gives the word a whole new meaning. Everyone in Chicago has been following the news about Diego’s injury and the season he spent on the bench. It doesn’t hurt that he’s got a major sexy brood going on in every picture I see of him these days. The last place I expected him to show up was Sweat. But he’s looking for a personal trainer to help him get fully back in shape before the season, and I’m just the guy for the job.

I'm a list person. Lists make sense, they give a chaotic, unpredictable world order. Realizing I was gay at 30 definitely wasn't on my list. I guess I need a new list….

Blurb I’m just a nerd, standing in front of a bench press, asking it not to humiliate me in front of my gym crush I’ve never walked into a gym on purpose in my life, and I’m not sure which part is more shocking, the massive beefcake who immediately challenges me to arm wrestle or the fact that I kind of want to come back. I spent years of my life refusing to lift anything heavier than a textbook, and it shows. I never expected that coming to the gym and bulking up would give me more gender euphoria than all the T shots in the world.

I didn’t know the house I broke into belonged to a mafioso, and now my revenge arc is a lot more complicated. 7 years ago, I died. Nameless, forgotten, left in a ditch after an overdose. I don’t know who saved me or why. God? Satan? A good Samaritan whose name I'll never know? It doesn't really matter. I don’t know who I used to be. My name, my past, they were buried. But somehow, I'm still here. I'm not the only one the Sleepless Reapers have used and abused, but I will be the last, if I have anything to say about it. I don’t need the attention of a mafioso.

I feel like I've been fighting my whole life, and tapping out has never been an option. I can live with owing money to the Morettis. I can even live with the constant guilt that my brother is the one paralyzed in a hospital bed while I live his dream. What I can't live with is Elio Moretti, second in command to the infamous crime family, showing up to all my fights, sitting in the front row, watching me like he can't look away, and barging into the locker room to patch up my wounds and invade my space.

Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him. 

When half your face is covered in a big, blotchy birthmark, you get used to the staring and the whispers. You get used to feeling unwanted. Until he walks into my bar.... Tall, gorgeous, and all kinds of out of place. And the way he looks at me ain’t like no way I've ever seen before.

Love, pain, and ink. The men of Heathens Ink Tattoo Studio have a lot to work through, but they always do it together. From Ashes - I didn't have anything to live for, until a kind stranger pulled me back from the brink. With physical and emotional scars, I have nowhere to turn now but to that same stranger who saved my life without realizing it. But as my feelings for Adam grow, will I ever be anything other than a surrogate for the brother he couldn’t save? Am I even worthy of his love?