Tuesday, December 26, 2017

#New #Release Sin & Saint #Executioners #Series #Poly #Gayromance

Eric and Ellison Gant, better known as Sin and Saint, were opposite sides of the same coin. They epitomized the nicknames given to them by their friends in the band Executioners. One thing Sin and Saint did well was fight, and being inseparable meant they had a lot of disagreements, but one thing they agreed on was that Sheriff Camden Pelter was theirs. The older, stoic man didn’t agree, yet they were determined to change his mind.

Camden Pelter had the daunting job of turning the Powers Sheriff Department around. The residents of the Georgia town didn’t have much faith or respect in the deputies serving them. That’s where he came in, and he was determined to do his job. That was easier said than done with two annoying brothers, Sin and Saint, who dogged his every step. No way in hell was he getting mixed up in the chaos that was the Gant Twins. Now if only he could get them to listen and realize they didn’t have a chance of changing his mind.




Everyone saw him as the leader. The one who would throw down his life for his team, but he was in a different universe at Brawlers bar. His cousin, Scary, owned the place with his husbands, Tank and Elijah. The biggest and most dangerous man he’d ever met was at a corner booth with his arms around his men, and fuck, he was jealous. Camden Pelter raised his perspiring beer bottle to his mouth and took a long draw. He couldn’t remember the last time he relaxed enough for a beer or simply to hang out.
He’d come here for an operation, and he was supposed to be right back out of town. That was two days ago. The Powers, Georgia, Sheriff had been into some shit. He came to town to help bring the corrupt fucker down before the racist and homophobic bastard tried to take out Scary’s crew for good.
He and his cousin weren’t on the best terms. The last time they’d butted heads, he’d locked Scary up, and their grandmother had nearly disowned him. When Scary and his crew went silent after the shooting of the Sheriff, he thought he was going to have to threaten Scary again, but Elijah had come to the rescue by brokering a bit of a deal. He did like his cousin’s extremely handsome husband. How the fuck Scary got him, he didn’t know and sure as fuck didn’t understand it.
“Hey, handsome, can I get you another.” Twitch leaned on the bar.
The tiny man was married to a beast named Crave. He’d never met a man he’d call beautiful in his life, but Twitch was so much so, it made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t in the closet, but he didn’t advertise. In his line of work, the testosterone and machismo went right along with the homophobia. He needed to depend on his team to have his back when shit went nuclear during operations. A split-second hesitation could end with a suit showing up to notify your next of kin.
“Your man already threatened my nuts if I even smiled at you, beautiful.”
Twitch’s super sweet and lovely smile was enough to make someone nauseous.
“How else will I make my tips if I don’t seduce them with my overwhelming gorgeousness?”
“Darlin’, even on your worse day you probably turn heads.”
 “You do know I’m married, right?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view, ain’t that right?”
He couldn’t contain his smile at the sweet little blush that spread across Twitch’s tanned cheeks. How a man married to Crave could still blush fucking shocked him. The kid was cute, and from what he’d seen, Twitch was genuinely sweet and caring. He didn’t see that much anymore.
It was nice to flirt even if he knew the boy was taken.
“There’s a few boys appreciating the fine form sitting in front of me right now.”
“Doubt that.”
Soft fingertips touched his stubble covered cheek and turned his head toward the stage. Executioners, they were the house band and made up of the roughest sons of bitches he’d ever met. That’s when he noticed them, perfect and blond, even more beautiful than Twitch and they were staring right at him. He gripped Twitch’s wrist with a gentle pressure and slowly lowered the man’s hand to the bar.
“I don’t do jailbait.”
Just looking at them had his jeans fitting too fucking tight and he released Twitch to bring his attention back to his drink.
“Twenty-one isn’t jailbait. Sin and Saint are grown men.”
“Not grown enough for a forty-three-year-old man.” He darted another glance at the stage, but luckily those two boys weren’t looking at him. Fuck, but they had him thinking shit he shouldn’t. Like if their blond hair would be as soft as it looked wrapped around his fist. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away.
“You old men pay too much attention to age or is your sexy ass still in the closet?”
“Would I be here if I was in the closet?”
“I don’t know. Your cousin owns the place.”
“I’m not in the closet, but I don’t advertise either.”
“Maybe you should. You’re single.”
“I like being single.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t that he minded being single, but his existence had become pretty lonely since his SWAT days. He didn’t have the time to invest, and his undercover assignments didn’t allow for time to spend with a partner. In his mind, that hadn’t seemed fair to someone who could potentially mean a lot more to him than a casual hookup.
Twitch snorted. “Those glances at Sin and Saint say otherwise.”
“Sin and Saint, don’t they have real names?” Even though the names seemed perfect, he didn’t like them, and he wasn’t going to call his—nothing his was in this bar.
“Sin is Eric, and Ellison is Saint, but I don’t think they answer to them. Last I heard their mom started calling them Sin and Saint too.”
“I won’t be calling them Sin and Saint.”
“Does that mean you’ll be calling them because they’re headed this way. Good luck.”
He nearly hollered for Twitch when the little man darted away. He was a grown ass man so he could handle two pretty boys. Their platinum blond hair tousled around their beautiful faces. Fuck, he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar, and he looked old, well, ancient compared to them. The silver patch in his goatee stood out starkly and reminded him he wasn’t in his twenties or even thirties anymore.
Just don’t be an asshole, Camden, he ordered himself. His hand locked tight around the bottle as the most beautiful men he’d ever seen flanked him on either side. Their slim bodies pushing in beside him, and he instantly knew which one was Sin. The boy pressed in tight to his side, while Ellison, Saint, kept a bit of distance. In his peripheral, he noticed the innocent pink that stained Ellison’s cheeks and he wanted to reach for him. Chase the spreading color under the pads of his calloused fingers.
“Well, hello, sexy, you’re new.”
Eric’s soft fingertips stroked up his bare arm only being stopped by the rolled cuff of his dress shirt. His stomach tightened.
“You’re Scary’s cousin.”
Ellison’s voice was softer than Eric’s, and tinged with a hint of shyness that made him want to turn to him.
“Why don’t you come home with us, Camden?”
“Why don’t you go play with someone your own age, boy?”
He didn’t know where the brusque tone came from, but he didn’t want to be some notch for boys with Daddy issues. It was a rage in his abdomen. An emotion he’d never experienced before burned through his veins, and he couldn’t think beyond getting as far away from Eric and Ellison as he could. Part of him wanted to put them over his knee for propositioning some strange man in a bar. The other part, the one he needed to rein in, wanted to take them home.
“Twitch,” he called for the bartender and pulled enough from his pocket to cover his few beers, plus a generous tip.
“Goodnight, boys.”
Eric looked at him like he was insane to turn them down and maybe he was, but he was a grown ass man, and he knew what he wanted. Ellison avoided glancing at him and instead of embarrassment or shyness, the young man looked ashamed. He pushed back from the bar and started to walk away.
“Goodnight, Camden.”
Ellison’s sweet voice called to him, and he imagined what it would sound like when the boy screamed his name as he was buried balls deep. Angry with himself, he strode toward the door.
He knew what he wanted, something or someone only his, someone to care for and make happy. A quick fuck he wasn’t and twenty-one was too fucking young for what he had in mind. That didn’t keep his mind from wandering to the twin temptations he’d left back at Brawlers, and it didn’t disappear even as he drove in the opposite direction of Powers, Georgia, and from the things he knew he couldn’t have.


J.M. Dabney is a multi-genre author who writes mainly LGBT romance and fiction. She lives with a constant diverse cast of characters in her head. No matter their size, shape, race, etc. she lives for one purpose alone, and that’s to make sure she does them justice and give them the happily ever after they deserve. J.M. is dysfunction at its finest and she makes sure her characters are a beautiful kaleidoscope of crazy. There is nothing more she wants from telling her stories than to show that no matter the package the characters come in or the damage their pasts have done, that love is love. That normal is never normal and sometimes the so-called broken can still be amazing.


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