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AVAILABLE: Monday, February 23rd
[Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Alternative, MM, HEA]
SEVEN YEAR ITCH:
Oliver receives an unexpected Caribbean resort invitation requiring a plus-one. There is only one person that comes to mind. He just has to work up the nerve to invite Jackson, his brother’s best friend, to join him in paradise. Sometimes the biggest risks lead to the sweetest rewards.
OPEN SEAS:
Sammy’s grandmother surprises him with cruise tickets for his birthday. His roommate and best friend would be the perfect companion, except for one tiny problem. Elijah’s nightmare boyfriend. When shocking truths are revealed, Sammy decides to take the chance and confess his own truth he’s been hiding for so long.
LAST IMPRESSIONS:
Angel is so over dishonest men. He was dumped by his boyfriend who suddenly decided he was straight. Then he discovers his new boss has been keeping a significant secret. When he’s invited to a party Mitch is throwing, Angel must decide whether honesty delivered late is better than no honesty at all.
Lynn Hagen is a Siren-exclusive author.
STORY EXCERPT
My breath hitched.
Jackson.
Scrambling to my feet, I’d nearly cracked my skull on the sink. Jackson stood in the doorway, all six-feet-three of lean muscle and drop-dead gorgeous looks, wearing a faded Henley with the sleeves pushed up to reveal corded forearms dusted with dark hair. Sweet mercy.
“I…um…pipes.” I gestured at the sink then winced when the wrench in my hand whacked porcelain with a loud clank.
I never failed to impress myself around him.
“And…um…cobwebs.” Jackson stepped closer, lifting a cobweb from my hair, which probably had mad scientist vibes by now. I stood frozen, staring at his Adam’s apple, and covertly inhaling the rich, deep scent of Jackson into my lungs. “Did you use your head as a duster, Ollie?”
“Hazards of changing lightbulbs.” I forced myself not to lean in, not to nuzzle his throat.
“All gone.” When he stepped back, he wore a crooked smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement. I hated that I loved him. Hated the way a single smile caused such a deep longing inside me. If I knew how to turn off my feelings for him, I’d hit that switch in a heartbeat, because I was tired of aching for someone I would never have.
“Mind if I take a look? Cars and plumbing aren’t that different, when you get down to it.”
“Both involve things getting wet when they shouldn’t?” I immediately wanted to drown myself in the sink.
Jackson’s laugh rumbled out, feeding my addiction. “Exactly. Both involve cursing, praying, and gripping tightly.” His shoulder brushed my arm as he crouched to examine the pipes, and I just stood there imagining doing all three with him.
ADULT EXCERPT
Jackson's eyes met mine, dark with want. "Tell me what you need."
Words failed completely when his breath ghosted over my cock. My hands fisted in the sheets, body trembling with the effort of holding still.
"This?" His tongue traced a line from base to tip, and my vision whited out momentarily. "Been thinking about this. How you’d taste. How you’d sound."
Coherent response became impossible when his mouth engulfed me. Wet heat and perfect pressure, his tongue doing things that definitely violated several laws of physics. My hips bucked involuntarily, but his hands held me steady, controlling the pace with devastating patience.
"Jackson, fuck—" Language devolved into gasps and moans as he took me deeper, and the sight of his lips stretched around my cock was almost enough to end things immediately.
Pulling him off took monumental effort, but the confused, almost hurt look in his eyes made me rush to explain. "Want to taste you too."
Understanding dawned, followed by a groan that seemed pulled from somewhere deep. We rearranged ourselves on the bed, and then his cock was in front of me, hard and leaking, and my mouth literally watered.
The first taste of him on my tongue—salt and musk and something uniquely Jackson—made us both moan. His cock jumped in my mouth as I took him deeper, learning what made his breath catch, what made his hips stutter forward.
"Your mouth," he gasped, one hand tangling in my hair. "Fuck, Oliver, your mouth."
