検索キーワード： 著者 "K. M. Neuhold" すべてのカテゴリー

That Feeling when the man you just robbed and left tied up and blindfolded turns out to be in the mafia… I'm not proud of the things I've had to do for money to pay off my dad's debts and put my younger brother through college. But I'll never regret it. What I do regret is accidentally robbing a Moretti. Having to look over my shoulder and ducking every time a car backfires is bad enough, but when the man in question starts costing me business? Yeah, I think we’re going to have a problem.

It's not a relationship, it's just a patchwork of tattoo sessions and sweaty secrets with a rock star. No big deal. I've been keeping this secret for four years, counting down the months in between visits from Onyx. To everyone else I'm “Hero” but he mostly just calls me “yes” and “more” while we trade heated kisses and wandering hands. I know it won't ever be anything more than a wild secret and eventually he'll get bored hooking up with a tattoo artist fifteen years too old for him from Nowhere, Wisconsin. But I'm more than happy to enjoy this while it lasts.

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?

I’ve spent my entire adult life working eighty hours a week, chasing money, security…success. When my recent start-up went under, leaving me with nothing to show for years of grinding myself down to the bone, I’m not sure who I am anymore. I never thought I’d be 48 with no money, living with my brother, trying to figure everything out from scratch. But, here we are….

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….

I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

Pete doesn’t think he’s fit for island life, but he doesn’t know Palm Island like I do. He might think it’s all drinking on the beach and bed-hopping, but maybe if I can show him the beauty and freedom underneath it all, he might decide to stay.

I made peace with my hopeless crush on my straight best friend, Journey, years ago. It helps that he’s never in the country long and our relationship consists of sporadic texts and video chats at odd hours. Now Journey is back. Back in the country, in my space, sharing my bed, and something is changing between us.

Was pretending to sleep with tons of men to keep my crush from hooking up with them a Dirty Trick? Sure. Do I regret it? Not one bit. Telling Boston I have a thing for him would’ve been the logical thing to do. Unfortunately, logic hasn’t always been my strong suit. I decided to go the—“get under his skin until hostility turns into affection”—route instead, and I think it’s finally working.

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.

We haven't spoken in 15 years, and Marlon is the last person I expected to run into in a bar on Bourbon Street. He's not my gangly internet pen pal anymore; he's all muscles, body hair, and temptation. Our friendship feels like it never faded, but the heat between us is brand-new. We're both in different cities every few weeks, hustling to build our careers and soaking up all the perks of being young, hot, and untethered. But our paths seem to be crossing more and more often.

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.

Most people on the island avoid the hot-tempered chef, but he doesn't scare me. Sure, he's prickly, but I've also caught him feeding a stray cat, so I know there's more to him than the sky-high barbed-wire fence he's built around himself. When Storm's ex-husband shows up unexpectedly during the off-season and refuses to go home, pretending to be Storm’s boyfriend is apparently my new job. Faking it with my grumpy boss should not be this much fun, especially since the last thing I need is to make a fool of myself by falling for anyone else on the island.

I came to Palm Island two seasons ago, confused about my life and desperate for a change. The island drew me in, but I’m still not sure why. Maybe it’s time I cut my losses and go back home, back to med school like I always planned. But when the breathtaking, flirtatious, tattooed bartender I’ve been crushing on for ages offers to let me room with him this off-season, there’s no way I’m leaving now.

Five years ago, the military returned me home short a leg with scars covering one side of my body. I learned to live with it, I built a new life for myself, and I found a way to love the new body I was given…there’s just one thing I can’t accept. I have no right to want someone as vibrant and beautiful as Nolan, not when a very vital part of my anatomy doesn’t always work anymore. Alden can’t seem to stop meddling between the two of us, and I hate to admit it, but there’s something about him that manages to fix what’s broken in me.

Teddy is ready to pop the question, but can he find the perfect movie-moment proposal for Harlow? And, more importantly, will Low survive meeting the parents? Oh, the joy of Christmas. A missed connecting flight, inappropriate winter attire, and a kitchen fire…it wouldn’t be Christmas without some complications, right? I know Harlow is desperately trying to impress my family, but I’m a lot more concerned about coming up with a proposal worthy of his Hollywood dreams.

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.

All my life, I’ve dreamed of one thing: the perfect movie moment. I want a man and his boombox outside my window; I want kissing in the rain; I want a romantic hero who will take my breath away. Switching mail with my cute neighbor didn’t work. Swapping coffee with a hottie at the coffee shop just got the poor barista yelled at. And bus guy? Total bust. I’m starting to wonder if Hollywood got the whole meet-cute thing wrong. Sacrilege, I know. Is it possible the perfect leading man has been living in the apartment above me the entire time, playing the role of my best friend?

Austin never realized he was painting his life with shades of gray, until Keaton came along and injected a rainbow of color. Keaton is a tornado of chaos and paint, which turns out to be more exciting than I ever would’ve imagined. I love my organized, predictable life...or at least I thought I did. But what started as a casual hookup is slowly becoming so much more, and I find myself loving the beautiful mess more than I expected. Can two people so different really make it work once feelings get involved?

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.