The Game Series, #16 • Standalone • Duet • Book 1 of 2 • Hurt/Comfort • Family • Dom/Dom • Opposites AttractAsh and Nathan’s story begins on a blistering day in Philadelphia, with a rough-around-the-edges scaffolder yelling outside the office of a trauma specialist. Psychology major Nate decides to give this brute a piece of his mind.The friends who told me to move on didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Moving on wasn’t happening—and I knew that better than anyone after being trapped at the bottom of a heartbreak for an excruciating year now, where I had nothing but crippling anxiety and our memories to torture me. Everything we’d built, the family we’d created, the pictures, that damn National Parks passport, the ring on my finger, echoes of laughter and promises… I’d been there, watching you, being your test subject, as you’d become the rope rigger you were today. With amusement glinting in your eyes, you’d called me the OG bondage bunny. Me, the primal predator, who thought about chasing brats through the woods, your bondage bunny.We’d given each other laugh lines. We’d loved so damn hard. We’d stood in front of our friends and family and vowed to fight for us forever.Almost twenty years together. Four beautiful children.
What the hell happened, Nate?
You didn’t have to tell me. I already knew. I was a coward. I’d let my fears hold us back.
The question now was if I still stood a chance, because…frankly, living without you was impossible.
I’d do anything to get you back.
The Game Series is a BDSM series where romance meets the reality of kink. Sometimes we fall for someone we don’t match with, sometimes vanilla business gets in the way of kinky pleasure, and sometimes we have to compromise and push ourselves to overcome trauma and insecurities. No matter what, one thing is certain. This is not a perfect world—and maybe that’s why the happily ever after feels so good.
EXCERPT:
If his boss got off work at five PM, the yuppie should work similar hours, right?
I checked my watch and then squinted up at the building.
Five minutes past five.
A breath gusted out of me, and I ran a hand through my hair.
This was stupid. I should just head home, get out of my work clothes, and take a long shower.
And yet…I couldn’t shake the urge to smooth things over with the yuppie. In all the chaos earlier, and the damn heat, I’d misinterpreted what Garcia had said. Now I could recall his saying that several people had complained about the noise, and I’d applied it all to this suit guy. But all he’d mentioned was my creative use of words. He hadn’t technically bitched about the noise.
Hold up, is that him?
I held up a hand to shield my eyes from the late-afternoon sun, and I zeroed in on the guy coming out from the building.
It was him. He had put on his messenger bag, and he had a bike helmet in one hand.
Totally fit my impression of him. Yuppie on a bicycle.
I cleared my throat and trailed closer as he aimed for the row of bikes next to the stairs.
“Oi. Glasses.” I figured it was a better nickname than Yuppie.
Hey, it worked.
He threw a frown over his shoulder.
I gestured at myself. “The paste-eater from earlier.”
The frown faded, but he definitely nailed the standoffish vibe. “Now I remember.”
Okay, he had the biting, dry sense of humor down.
“I cut the goddammits and motherfuckers to a minimum after our productive chat,” I offered.
He unlocked his bike and stuffed the chain into his messenger bag. “My boss mentioned an improvement.” He side-eyed me. “Did you just get off work?”
“Half an hour ago,” I replied. “It’s possible I felt bad for how I acted earlier, so I decided to see if you were on your way out too.”
“I am. After a lovely day here, I’m looking forward to my evening shift at a hotel in Center City,” he drawled.
Oh damn. “That blows. I’m sorry about today, man. I won’t piss you off tomorrow, I promise.”
“Are you sure? You seem to have a knack for it.” He put on his helmet. Then he sighed and pulled out his bike. “Maybe I could’ve handled things better too.”
I smiled. “Water under the bridge.”
Except, now I kinda wanted this little meeting to run longer. He really was hot, and considering he’d checked me out before, it didn’t seem unlikely he was gay. A guy had to give it a go, didn’t he? My weekend was open.
“So, uh…do you have enough time to get something to eat before work?” I asked. “There’s a place down the street. They water down anything alcoholic, but their chips and guacamole are out of this world.”
He knitted his brows together. “You wanna spend happy hour with me?”
I’d prefer a date, but we could call it happy hour between two strangers.
“Of course.” I shrugged. “I obviously want a moment to explain myself. I didn’t fucking eat paste as a kid. I ate crayons.”
Fuck yeah, he actually smiled. “Okay. Happy hour sounds good.”
Author Bio:
Romance Across the Spectrum.
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
~Cara.
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