検索キーワード： 著者 "J.R. Gray" すべてのカテゴリー

I should have been on top of the world but I was trapped, suffocated by fame. My life wasn't my own. I belonged to the fans and the media. Too famous to leave my house without attracting a crowd. Fame and anxiety prevented a connection. I was doomed to stay a virgin forever, or so I thought until I fell for the one person forbidden to me: My director.

Quellcrist wasn't new to fame or the effect it had on a relationship. He'd been married in the spotlight for as long as he'd been famous. But that was before Hale. He knew it was going to test him, but even he hadn't known the toll that months apart would take on his fledgling relationship. Long days of shooting, different time zones, calls every day dwindled to days without calls, and rumors were all over the rags. Through it all Quell had to battle his own worst enemy, but he didn't know how to win against something inside him.

Finding out the guy I hooked up with is on my team isn't the way I saw my first week of coaching going. My name is Anthony Hawke, and I used to be a rising star in the NHL until someone purposefully tore my ACL, ending my career. I went from the top of my life to nothing in a matter of months. I take a coaching job a thousand miles away as a fresh start, only to ruin it before I start. Three months ago, I met him in a bar. Sexy and funny and built like a God—no names, just the best night of my life.

First day of college, everyone is settling into their rooms, and in walks Jeff Woods—the blond bastard. He’s arrogant, smart and an elite swimmer. Worst of all, everyone loves him. Only, he’s also insufferable, flirty, and a sex god. He pushes every button I never knew I had—all with an air of indifference—like he doesn’t know the effect it has on me. Did I mention he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on?

My soul mate is my natural enemy. Or close enough. He's a vampire and I'm a wolf. Our kinds are at war. A centuries-old blood war. I can't stay away from him. I hate him, but I want him. Our love is a standoff. For every inch I take, he pushes a mile.

A guy in a skirt wouldn't turn a straight guy on, right? I spent the last decade performing next to him. I've never looked at him as more—until I walked in on him in a skirt. He's as broken as I am. We survived our childhood together. And when he's finally trying to embrace the parts his father tried to beat out of him, I can't handle it. He's taunting me with smeared eyeliner and a filthy smile, singing to a sold-out crowd, and it's getting too hot under these stage lights. I can't look him in the eyes. I can't be with him—not like that—but I can't stop thinking about him.