Tuesday, May 8, 2018

New Release Little (Trenton Security Book 2) #MM #Interracial #Romance

Series: Trenton Security Book 2
Word Count: 49,000
Publisher: Hostile Whispers Press
Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Editor: AlternativEdits


Insanity was in the eye of the beholder.

Harmon Little was a surveillance expert. He lived in the shadows, and he liked it there. There wasn’t a place he couldn’t get in and out of without detection. As usual with his mischievous nature, his current assignment went south, and he ran. He thought he was free and clear until he knocked someone over in a grocery store aisle.

Sanity wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Solomon “Solo” Poe was counting calories. Working out until he fell into bed hungry and exhausted. He was plain and pudgy, plus he couldn’t remember when he’d last gone on a date. He wanted more than the occasional, lights out, one-night stand. So, he was going to lose the weight and find himself a man. At least that was the plan, then a big man with a huge smile tried to kill him in a store aisle. There was one thing he was sure of, Harmon was his.




“Talk to me.”

“I like you.”

He didn’t know how he felt about the misery that stained those three words.

“I like you too. So what's wrong?”

Harmon didn’t speak just seemed to choke down the rest of his food, and he did the same. He stood and started to clear the table. He froze with the plates in his hands as Harmon grabbed his hips. He dropped them back onto the table with a clang and let the big man tug him down onto his lap. Harmon’s fingertips stroked across his cheek.

“You smell so sweet.” Harmon’s voice broke.

He closed his eyes as the tip of Harmon’s nose moved along his jaw and down to the side of his neck. A shiver worked through him.

“So soft.”

He felt a tug on his bow tie, and then Harmon started to work the buttons of his shirt loose.

“May I just touch you?”

He turned his head, his mouth met Harmon’s, and the man’s scruff was rough against his smoother skin. He realized with awe that he wasn’t the only one shaking. Harmon’s breath roughly shuddered over his lips. Harmon held himself so tense that his muscles strained and shook.

“Poe, please.”

Something about the begging tone tinged with too much desperation broke him. Harmon shouldn’t believe he had to plead for affection or the right to touch. As far as he was concerned, everything he was belonged to Harmon.


Harmon’s big hand slipped under the soft linen of his shirt. Harmon squeezed and stroked, pinched his nipples. The man didn’t hurry. It was almost as if Harmon savored the moments as if that would be the only time he’d allow Harmon to touch him. He wanted more than a make-out session or some one-night stand. They’d only known each other a few months, but he felt closer to Harmon than he had to anyone else in his life.

Taking chances hadn’t always worked in his favor, but he didn’t want to bypass the possibility of a relationship with Harmon because he was scared of ruining a friendship. He’d seen the interest and heat in Harmon’s eyes as the man studied him. Noticed all the aborted attempts at touching him. Harmon had reached out to him so many times only to stop himself and pull away in every way. The emotional retreat hurt him the most.

“I love touching. Do you want to touch me?”

He frowned at the fearful question. Harmon waited for him to say no and he had no intention of doing that. He stood, and the devastation on Harmon’s face broke his heart.

“Take your shirt off, Harmon.” Harmon hesitated, and he wasn’t having that. “Now.”

Harmon’s hands trembled as they picked apart the buttons of the wrinkled shirt he wore. He groaned as Harmon exposed his dark skin covered with thick curls. He cataloged scars and a single mole on his right shoulder. The man was physically perfect, and he still didn’t understand why Harmon wanted him.

He wasn’t going to question it because above everything—including his fear—he wanted to love on this sweet, adorable and insecure man. He didn’t close the distance between them until Harmon dropped the shirt to the floor. He moved in close until he pushed his knees against Harmon’s and the man parted his legs. He stepped between them.

He let his gaze move over Harmon from his bright jade eyes down to the man’s fisted hands on his thick thighs. He raised his right hand and pulled his tie off, and he held it out to Harmon.

“Do you want it?”

Harmon quickly grabbed it and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. Hiding it as if he’d take it away. He felt powerful and sexy at the heat of Harmon’s gaze observing his every movement. The curve of his belly, the slight softness of his chest didn’t matter as he removed his shirt. He dropped it. No one had ever looked at him the way Harmon was doing.

He brought his hands to Harmon’s scruffy cheeks and bent forward until his mouth touched Harmon’s.

Harmon sat stiffly with his hands still clenched on his thighs.

“Don't you want to touch me?”


“Then why aren't you?”

For the first time, he didn't feel insecure about his weight, softness or his thick-framed glasses. Harmon waited for his permission or orders. It was a powerful knowledge.

“I don't want you to go away.”

“I'm not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered before he took Harmon’s lips.


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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