Thank
you to Dawn, for the opportunity to tell you about my latest release J
Art
and Snowflakes by Sean Michael
So
I had this weird little artist show up in my head. His name was Jaxsom and he
told me that he’d been clean for a year after ten years of booze and alcohol,
and that he’d sort of lost those ten years. Before he’d really gone down the
rabbit hole, he’d had a man he loved with all he was, but he needed to follow
the art and it was leading him deeper and deeper into the haze.
Once
I had him, Dave wasn’t very far behind, telling me all about how Jax had been
it for him, but he couldn’t handle the drugs, not when they seemed to become
all that Jax cared about.
And
Art and Snowflakes was born.
Cover
(http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com/books/covers/artandsnowflakes.jpg)
Ten
years ago, Jaxsom left town and his lover Dave, following his whim and his art
through booze and alcohol. Now Jax is back, sober and clean, and with a wad of
cash in his back pocket from the sale of a dozen works of art.
A
chance meeting earns Jax an invitation back to Dave's place for dinner, and
soon, one thing leads to another. Now that Jax is clean, will Dave want to
rekindle their romance? And if so, can Jax find a way to have his art and Dave,
too?
Art
and Snowflakes is available at Amber Allure: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/ArtSnowflakes.html
Excerpt:
Jaxsom
woke up in the middle of the night, completely panicked. He jerked from the
bed, mouth dry, confused and lost.
Where
was he?
What
day was it?
When
was it?
Oh,
God.
Nothing
looked familiar or right or normal.
Nothing.
It
was dark but not pitch, and the shadows, they moved, like monsters just waiting
for him to make a wrong step.
Oh,
God.
Something—someone—shifted
beside him. “Jax?”
“I…
I… Do I know you?” Please be someone he knew. Please let it not be someone
terrible.
“Jax?
It’s Dave.”
“Dave?”
He spun around, relieved. “Oh, thank God!”
Dave’s
arms came around him and tugged him close. Dave was warm, so warm. “What the
hell?”
“I
just…I forgot.” It happened all the time. Waking up sucked.
“Oh.
Okay.” Dave rubbed his back, warming him up even more and encouraging him to
relax.
Jax
snuggled right in, totally trusting that Dave would keep the monsters away.
“God, I hate waking up.”
“Still?”
“Uh-huh.
I forget things.” Like where he was. Like what was real.
“I’m
sorry.” Dave’s touches continued, not letting him forget.
“It’s
okay. No big.” It just made waking up weird. And hard.
“I
never quite got used to that, the way you wouldn’t know where you were when you
woke up in our bed.”
“Me
either.” He never would.
Dave’s
lips met his in the dark, kissing him. Jax opened, surprisingly touched,
undone. The kiss was long and gentle, almost sleepy, and he let himself fall
into it, lean hard. Groaning, Dave deepened the kiss, hands wandering on his
skin with more purpose now—shifting from comforting to sexual.
Jax
pressed closer, lips opening to get more of Dave’s flavor. He loved kissing
this man more than he’d ever liked kissing anyone else. His whole body was
drawn in, Dave’s prick firming up against his thigh.
“I
feel you,” he told Dave. That amazing prick was a dream come true. It starred
in all his jack-off fantasies.
Dave
chuckled softly. “And I’m feeling you.”
“Uh-huh.
You are.” The joke felt so good, weirdly delicious.
Dave’s
laughter filled his mouth, his lungs. And it filled all of him. His fingers
itched for a brush, his canvases, and color. Dave always made him want to
paint. Always.
Sean
Michael
Smut
fixes everything
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