Sam
Singer’s latest book is now available to readers. I’m very pleased to offer a
look at it.
Blurb:
Craig
Ryan’s modeling dreams crashed and burned on the streets of LA. Still, a man
has to eat, and the escort biz pays well, and the sex isn’t bad. Actually,
Craig enjoys his new job and benefits. That is, until a client called Dee hires
him. Dee is a mystery. He keeps his face hidden and prohibits touching, even
when touching his mouthwatering body becomes Craig’s fantasy.
Falling for a customer was never in Craig’s plans. But wrapped inside Dee’s peculiar requirements, there’s a sense of loneliness and pain that strikes deep within Craig, awakening his own need for something more—something with a future beyond one-night stands.
Falling for a customer was never in Craig’s plans. But wrapped inside Dee’s peculiar requirements, there’s a sense of loneliness and pain that strikes deep within Craig, awakening his own need for something more—something with a future beyond one-night stands.
Excerpt:
The
elevator stopped and opened directly into the luxurious penthouse; it was huge
with an open floor plan, elegantly furnished, and smelled faintly of sandalwood
and leather. The kitchen gleamed with top-of-the-line chrome appliances. There
was a nicely sized, but not ostentatious, LCD television to the left of a
fireplace surrounded by built-in mahogany bookcases crammed full of books. The
floors were gleaming hardwood with beautiful, intricate Persian rugs here and
there. On the coffee table was an array of magazines—Time, Newsweek,
Men’s Health, GQ, The Advocate, and Details—along
with a book of erotic male photography. The entire west wall was made up of
floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a spectacular view of the city at
sunset, and there standing in front of them, looking out, had to be his client.
He
was big, not overweight, but tall, lean, and most likely muscular if the broad
shoulders were anything to go by. His hair was to his shoulders, dark, brown
probably, and thick. He looked to be impeccably dressed in dark slacks and
shirt—silk, Craig guessed. Despite a couple of years in the escort business and
being plenty jaded, Craig was intrigued. He wished the man would turn around.
He’d love to see if the front was as appealing as the back.
“I’m
Craig,” Craig said evenly.
“I’m
Dee,” his client said in a deep voice, not turning to face Craig.
Craig
took a few uncertain steps closer. “I hope I’m what you wanted.”
“You’re
fine,” his client replied shortly.
Craig
frowned and his brows knitted together in puzzlement. How could he think Craig
was fine when he hadn’t even turned to look at him? The first tendrils of
unease began to unfurl inside him. This guy was big, strong, and could easily
overpower Craig. Not that Craig was a slouch, but he didn’t have the muscle
mass his client seemed to under his expensive clothes, and this guy was at least
three inches taller than him.
There
was a low mechanical hum, and the curtains began to close over the windows,
shutting out the weak light from the setting sun. A second later the television
clicked on.
“Have
a seat, Craig,” Dee said, motioning to the overstuffed suede sofa.
Craig
swallowed and nodded even though Dee couldn’t see. He sank down into the plush
sofa but kept Dee in his line of sight. The curtains closed completely, and the
only light came from the glow of the television and the dim recessed lights in
the kitchen. Craig didn’t like this, didn’t like not being able to see his
client, not being able to judge his reactions.
“Do
you have a favorite genre of film?” his client asked, moving away from the
windows and over to sit beside Craig. Craig looked over at Dee but couldn’t
really make out any facial features because of the dim lighting, and Dee’s hair
was obscuring his face. It didn’t exactly make Craig feel better about this
situation.
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