- Reviewed by: Scott
- Print Length: 169 pages
- Posting: Romance, Mystery, Action, Comedy
- Publisher: PubRight (August 11, 2014)
- Book Provided by: Author
- Author: Nya Rawlyns
- Posting Date: September 17, 2014
- Rating: 4.5 Star
This is definitely turning into one of those must read series, and I think you should start with Book 1, Curling Iron. Book 1 flows into book 2, Pumping Iron so it will be much easier to understand the characters.
One of the things that I really enjoy when reading a Nya Rawlyns book is that her male characters exude testosterone. One of the other things I really enjoy and more so in this series is how well she writes the characters, as the reader I am easily drawn into the story because the characters feel real to me, real in their characterizations, how they interact with the other characters and how well they are integrated into the story.
Action and Adventure? Mix in an attorney that Sean and Mike are supposed to keep entertained in the Hamptons and away from Boston for a week. Add in the back story of Sean, that we slowly learn about and the tensions get higher. Speaking of back story, I so enjoyed the way that each character comes with there own set of baggage. Even though this baggage may not necessarily deal with the scope of the story, it adds to the relationships that are characters have formed. This goes back to my previous statement that referenced how easy it was to get drawn into the story.
Great job, again Nya, as a reader I’m thankful that we have authors such as yourself bringing us such entertaining stories.
Amazon: Pumping Iron (A Bad Boyfriends Novel)
Amazon UK: Pumping Iron (A Bad Boyfriends Novel)
All Romance eBooks: Pumping Iron (A Bad Boyfrieds Novel)
The R Rated Excerpt:
Sequestered at a beach house in the Hamptons, charged with keeping Lovett Junior occupied while his law firm does damage control over Junior’s peccadillos, Mike and Sean find it difficult to grab some private time.
Junior’s little secret was that of all the splendid things one could do with one’s time, watching young men fucking each other, in the flesh, was the ultimate viewing experience, and the only way Junior had a chance of coming. It was hit or miss, the coming part, but the watching for pleasure apparently hit the spot all the time.
If he had even the remotest clue we were going at it hot and heavy, he was going to guilt us into letting him voyeur his way into my checking account. My take on ten large per diem wasn’t
insubstantial, and there was the added bonus for keeping him happy and off Boston’s upscale, high end streets until Monday earliest.
It wasn’t going to buy me financial independence but it feathered a nest in desperate need of new options, including paying off a debt that had driven me to Bad Boyfriends in the first place,
hocking my cock and acting abilities while hiding in plain sight.
My mini-meltdown had taught me one thing: I could act my way out of a paper bag but that didn’t make me a good card player.
“You done?” Mike was standing, cock at full alert, arms crossed. It was a good look on him.
It would look even better with me hammering his ass until he cried uncle, something I suspected wouldn’t happen all that easily.
“Don’t say it.” He smirked. He was thinking it … I think too much. Apropos of nothing, I observed, “We’re naked. How do you propose to do this?”
He pulled me off the bed and dragged my bare assed carcass to the door, opened it and pointed through the wall of trees.
“What the hell am I looking at?”
“Stairs to the upper deck.”
He tiptoed along the sandy path, his junk bobbing with the exaggerated movements. Putting a finger to his lips, he shushed me, then made a dash across the open space to the near side of the house and an attached ladder leading up to the second floor deck. He was up and over the railing before I’d even taken the first step. Not sure if I was supposed to wait while he secured the booty, or follow him and Tarzan my way up the ladder, I hesitated. He waved me to come up and join him.
Cottage. Single bed. Jerking off alone. Or king-sized bed, high thread count, condom and me buried deep into nirvana fucking a man I might be falling in love with? No contest. I dashed, I
climbed, I conquered.
Giggling like schoolgirls, we barged through the patio door, with Mike sprinting to the bathroom. When he came out, I was sprawled on the bed, wallowing in comfort, stroking myself because it fucking hurt not to. He tossed a wrapper to me. It landed on my belly. I ignored it, liking the look in his eyes as he watched, eyes so filled with lust it damn near derailed me.
Taking pity, I said, “Lie down. I want to see your face when you come,” and made room on the bed while tearing at the wrapper and making quick work of rolling the damn condom on. I almost came right then and there. From the grimace on Mike’s face, he was so close it was clear this first one was going to be a quickie, for both of us.
He tossed the lube and drew his knees up, exposing himself to my tender ministrations, my finger easing in carefully. If it had been a while, he needed prep and not me going in like a battering ram, though everything inside my gut screamed for me to do just that.
You’re a professional, Rourke. You can control yourself. Do it right. Do it slow.
Mike hissed, “That’s enough. Just fucking do it already.” So I did, inch by slow inch and when he groaned, “Oh, fucking hell, Sean, fuck that’s good,” I moved, moved in the hot channel, lava hot with him clenching my cock tight, so tight I near exploded at the sensation.
Stretching his legs back, bending him almost in two, I watched his face, his eyes rolling back, felt him tense. And from the corner of my eye I caught Junior staring through the glass panel,
I rasped, trying to catch my breath, “He’s watching.”
Mike clenched his teeth, wadded the twelve hundred thread count Egyptian cotton in his bear paws, and bellowed, “Then give him his fucking money’s worth.”
So I did.
The Book Description:
Book 2 in the Bad Boyfriends Series
What does it take to bring a slow simmer to a rolling boil?
Sean Rourke is hiding in plain sight as a Bad Boyfriends A-list escort, hoping to dodge the bullet from a few career missteps.
Mike Douglas’ financial backing and very special negotiating skills have him partnering not-so-silently at Bad Boyfriends, as well as running a training center for athletes and gym rats.
Eying each other at a distance is all they’ve allowed themselves until a joint special project at a seaside retreat in the Hamptons, entertaining a wily Boston attorney, shows them exactly how well they fit together, in more ways than simply business as usual.
The Social Links: