Mostrando resultados por autor "K.M. Neuhold" en Todas las categorías

Austin never realized he was painting his life with shades of gray, until Keaton came along and injected a rainbow of color. Keaton is a tornado of chaos and paint, which turns out to be more exciting than I ever would’ve imagined. I love my organized, predictable life...or at least I thought I did. But what started as a casual hookup is slowly becoming so much more, and I find myself loving the beautiful mess more than I expected. Can two people so different really make it work once feelings get involved?

Most people on the island avoid the hot-tempered chef, but he doesn't scare me. Sure, he's prickly, but I've also caught him feeding a stray cat, so I know there's more to him than the sky-high barbed-wire fence he's built around himself. When Storm's ex-husband shows up unexpectedly during the off-season and refuses to go home, pretending to be Storm’s boyfriend is apparently my new job. Faking it with my grumpy boss should not be this much fun, especially since the last thing I need is to make a fool of myself by falling for anyone else on the island.

I definitely overestimated my own handyman skills when I bought this fixer-upper. I have to say, the view from my new place is worth it though. Especially around seven o'clock every morning when my big, furry bear of a neighbor drinks his coffee shirtless on his back porch. He's dedicated to the bear thing too. Growly, grumpy, and as it turns out, he really likes belly rubs. Am I a sucker for a touch starved grump? Yes. Am I sorry about it? Absolutely not.

Was pretending to sleep with tons of men to keep my crush from hooking up with them a Dirty Trick? Sure. Do I regret it? Not one bit. Telling Boston I have a thing for him would’ve been the logical thing to do. Unfortunately, logic hasn’t always been my strong suit. I decided to go the—“get under his skin until hostility turns into affection”—route instead, and I think it’s finally working.

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.

Polyamory. The first time Riot says the word, it feels like everything slots into place. Maybe I’m not greedy for loving both of my best friends at once. For most of my life I didn’t think I could ever have the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of, but somehow a sexy bartender with a major sweet tooth is making it all seem possible. Maybe Riot is right, our capacity for love is bigger than most people let themselves see. But will Leo and Hudson feel the same? Will they be willing to try to build this beautiful, complicated life with me?

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.

Sometimes, I’m so lonely I swear I can’t breathe. I bring men and women into my bed to chase away the ache, but it never seems to help. I want something real, something lasting, but I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life. If I have nothing else in my life I can count on, at least I have my best friend, Cas. If I have nothing else in my life that feels solid, at least I have Cas. Until one sad smile from a beautiful man tilts my world on its axis.

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 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.

A drunken wedding to a man who already rejected me once? Check. A hefty bet about how long it will last? Check. My feisty new husband, determined to make our friends pay up? Double check. I've never managed to make a real relationship last nearly a year, and there's no way Daniel will stick around long enough to win this bet.

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.

What will happen when my secrets are exposed? I’m lying to my mom about how I make my living. I’m lying to the Ballsy Boys about my life. I’m lying to myself about who I am. I pretend to be Campy, but I am Cameron. But does anyone even know the real me? When I meet my new roommate, a sexy Texan cowboy and break-out TV star named Jackson, all my lies start to come out. He makes me want to be myself, but I’ve spun so many lies that I don’t even know who I am anymore.

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.

It started with an anonymous post by someone who didn't want to live anymore. I read it over and over again, unable to get it out of my mind. What if my brother Johnny had posted something like this before he'd taken his own life? Would someone have been able to save him? I've been living a lie for 16 long years, and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep it up. And when a beautiful, broken man walks into my tattoo shop asking for a second chance at life, I know I'll never be able to turn him away.

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.

We haven't spoken in 15 years, and Marlon is the last person I expected to run into in a bar on Bourbon Street. He's not my gangly internet pen pal anymore; he's all muscles, body hair, and temptation. Our friendship feels like it never faded, but the heat between us is brand-new. We're both in different cities every few weeks, hustling to build our careers and soaking up all the perks of being young, hot, and untethered. But our paths seem to be crossing more and more often.

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.

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.

All my life, I’ve dreamed of one thing: the perfect movie moment. I want a man and his boombox outside my window; I want kissing in the rain; I want a romantic hero who will take my breath away. Switching mail with my cute neighbor didn’t work. Swapping coffee with a hottie at the coffee shop just got the poor barista yelled at. And bus guy? Total bust. I’m starting to wonder if Hollywood got the whole meet-cute thing wrong. Sacrilege, I know. Is it possible the perfect leading man has been living in the apartment above me the entire time, playing the role of my best friend?