Showing results by author "K.M. Neuhold" in All Categories

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.

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.

Forcing Salvatore Moretti to marry me at gunpoint isn’t the craziest thing I've ever done... I hate being desperate, being scared. It's a filthy, helpless feeling. I'd much rather be enraged, violent… unhinged. Salvatore watches me dance and calls me Angioletto, his little angel. He doesn't know the demons that haunt me. He's too blinded by my beauty to see the blood on my hands. Then again, he's a mafia capo, so maybe the blood wouldn't bother him anyway. My past is like fire licking at my heels, ready to consume me. But Sal won't let that happen, he’ll protect me. He has to.

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.

As long as LonelyDaddy is on the other side of the computer screen, there’s a chance he could be the man Emerson has been dreaming of. I’ve gotten used to being alone, to disappearing inside the fictional worlds between the pages of a book, and letting my lonely life fade away.

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.

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?

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?

When Gates shows up needing a place to crash , I offer him my spare room. Whatever happened between us nearly a decade ago is water under the bridge. I don’t lie awake at night wondering what could have been. Nope, definitely not.

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.

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. 

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?

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.

Casual fun with my emotionally stunted, overgrown frat boy roommate slash co-worker should be perfect, right? Shep seems to be just as allergic to commitment as I am to emotions, but that doesn't mean we don't need our stroker rods serviced, if you catch my drift. Now if he'll just stop looking at me with those dopey puppy dog eyes while I'm elbow deep in a diesel engine, and making my stomach flip with that smile of his, that would be great…

“Your life can change in an instant”~ Madden I never thought a night out could change everything. All I wanted was to dance, drink, maybe take a cute guy home for a night of fun. I met the guy, but the night ended as a nightmare. Screams, and blood, and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and...

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.

I definitely overestimated my own handyman skills when I bought this fixer-upper. I have to say, the view from my new place is worth it though. Especially around seven o'clock every morning when my big, furry bear of a neighbor drinks his coffee shirtless on his back porch. He's dedicated to the bear thing too. Growly, grumpy, and as it turns out, he really likes belly rubs. Am I a sucker for a touch starved grump? Yes. Am I sorry about it? Absolutely not.

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.

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.

I thought there was only one thing I needed to make me happy. I was so sure becoming a rock star would heal the dark corners inside me. But every time I walk onto the stage, with a roaring crowd screaming my name, all I can think about is the boy I left behind. All I want to do is rewind and make a different choice.