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

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.

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.

As far as I can tell I don’t have a submissive bone in my body. So why do I like it so much when Marshall calls me his good puppy? I’ve made some impulsive decisions in my life, but signing a contract with the K Boys to shoot an Introduction to Kink series may have been the biggest impulse ever. Sure, the intimate part of it doesn’t faze me, but the rest is way more intense than I had expected. Luckily, there’s Marshall, the consultant who oversees all the shoots. He’s so calm and steady, and he’s there for me when I panic.

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.

Sex has never been my main priority. Not what people expect to hear from someone who’s been head camera man for the single best studio in the kind of industry I work in. I thought I’d seen it all working for the Ballsy Boys, but helping to build the Kinky Boys from the ground up seems like it’s going to be an eye opening experience. A man has never turned my head before, so why can’t I stop checking out Daddy? Sex might not be the height of excitement for me, but watching subs kneel for their Daddies certainly has me wondering....

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.

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.

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?

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.

Saying I've had a crush on my best friend's older brother, Pax, most of my life is like saying the big bang was just an explosion. It's true, but I'm not sure that quite captures the essence of its true enormity. I don't think my advanced physics knowledge is going to help me figure this one out. But I think for once I'm okay with not knowing, as long as Pax and I don't know together.

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.

When I was 16, I was afflicted with a terrible curse...I fell in love with my straight best friend. I never thought I'd move past my feelings for Nash and find someone who could love me in return - until the day a gorgeous marine plopped himself down in my chair and asked me to ink him. I'm falling fast for Zade, but my feelings for Nash are still very real. When life starts getting complicated and Nash speaks the words I never thought I'd hear, the only thing I want is for us to find a way to make this work...together.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.