About the Author
J.L. Langley was born and raised in Texas. Which is a good thing considering that Texas is full of cowboys and there is nothing better than a man in a pair of tight Wranglers and a cowboy hat. She is fortunate to live with four of the most gorgeous males to walk the earth…ok, so one of those males is canine, but he is quite beautiful for a German Shepherd. When not writing, she can usually be found with a book in hand and chocolate in the other.
To learn more about J.L. Langley, please visit
www.jllangley.com
. Send an email to J.L at
[email protected]
or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as J.L.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/the_yellow_rose
.
Look for these titles by J.L. Langley
Now Available:
With or Without
Without Reservations
With Love
With Caution
With Abandon
Sci-Regency
My Fair Captain
The Englor Affair
Innamorati
His Convenient Husband
A temporary arrangement? Don't bet the ranch on it…
His Convenient Husband
© 2009 J.L. Langley
Innamorati, Book 1
At the tender age of seven, newly orphaned Micah Jiminez lost everything—and got lucky. The Delaney family opened their hearts and their home, treated him like one of their own. One Delaney in particular, though, became more than a brother to Micah. The handsome and protective Tucker is the man to whom he wants to give his love.
But after a single passionate night together, Tucker rebuffs him and hightails it to Dallas to pursue his dreams. Leaving Micah to pick up the pieces of his broken heart—and feeling like a fool.
The impending death of the Delaney patriarch brings an unsavory relative out of the woodwork, threatening Micah’s beloved adopted family. They’re going to need all hands in the fight to keep The Bar D from being pulled out from under them all—including Tucker. Micah steels himself to convince the man he can’t forget to come home.
To his everlasting surprise, it’s Tucker who comes up with the perfect solution: a marriage of convenience—to Micah. His gut tells him Tucker’s motivation involves nothing more than saving the ranch. Now he just has to convince his fragile heart.
This title has been revised and expanded by more than 10,000 words from its original published version.
Warning: This book contains threatening emails, imaginary sex, excessive use of antacids, non-homophobic cowboys, a bed being misused as a trampoline, male bonding during a gynecological examination of a pregnant mare, steamy manlove and a very hot-tempered Latino.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
His Convenient Husband:
“Okay, okay…” Tucker held his hands out in surrender. “Make noise.” Pushing himself up off the bed, Tucker locked the door and checked it by turning the handle. “I’m going to take a shower, but I’m not done discussing this.”
More like he wasn’t done trying to boss Micah around.
Wait.
Did he say—?
Ah,
dios mio
.
Micah closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Tucker in the shower, naked, dripping wet, right in the next room—
“What? Make noise?”
“Moan and grunt.” Tucker crossed the room and pulled the curtains, before going into the adjoining bathroom.
“Ugh.” Trying to get his heart to slow, Micah sat on the bed. What was Tucker doing?
“Micah…”
Micah opened his mouth to ask why, then snapped it shut. Why not just turn on the radio? Did Tucker really think Duncan was listening to them? Micah glanced at the door. There wasn’t that much space under the door, probably less than an inch. It was doubtful anyone was standing outside it. Micah went to the door, lay in front of it and looked under. His glasses shifted when the frames touched the floor but he could still see through them. It didn’t look like anyone was there.
“What are you doing?” Tucker kept his voice low and leaned against the bathroom threshold, a smirk on his handsome face.
“What’re
you
doing?” Micah got to his feet.
“Looking for shaving cream. Why aren’t you making noise?”
“Ugh!” Micah stomped his feet in place a few times.
Tucker rolled his eyes. “You sound like a dying cow.”
“I don’t think anyone is out there listening,” Micah whispered back, walking closer to Tucker. “The shaving cream is in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”
“Thanks.” Grinning, Tucker dragged a hand over his face and through his short, dark blond hair, and turned back toward the bathroom. “Try to sound like you’re having sex. Duncan’s in the room across the hall.”
“Oh.”
Oh!
Micah rolled his eyes at himself.
Dork.
Shaking his head, he went back to the iron-framed bed. He sat on the edge and bounced a little. The bed protested nicely. This could be fun. He pulled off his shoes and tossed them away. Bouncing again, he let out a long, ragged moan. Just like old times, he wondered why he let Tucker talk him into these kinds of things.
Oh yeah, ’cause you’re in love with him and would do anything for him.
Micah was really gonna have to stop that. He groaned, but it added to the sex noise.
“Oh Lord. Don’t overdo it. You just got out of the hospital, remember?” Tucker disappeared back into the bathroom.
Of course he remembered. Tucker wouldn’t let him freaking forget. “Oh, oh yeah. Mmm…” Crawling onto the bed, Micah hopped on his knees a little. The bed squeaked. “Oh yeah, baby.”
Take that, Duncan. ¡You
pendejo
!
The water turned on in the bathroom and Micah grunted, trying to cover the sound. He climbed to his feet and wobbled on the soft mattress. Bending his knees, he made the bed squeak again. Would the bed hold him if he actually jumped? He’d always wanted to jump on a bed. His mom would have killed him when he was a child. Jostling the bed, he glanced around the room. The floor was wood. If he jumped, would the bed be too loud? “Oh yes, yes, yes.” He moaned for effect. He really, really wanted to jump. “
Micah
,” his mother’s voice admonished in his head. He could almost see her shaking her finger at him.
Fuck it.
Micah’s feet left the mattress and the headboard
thunked
against the wall. “Oh yeah, baby, take it.” His glasses slid down his nose and he had to push them back up. This was fun. He’d wanted some fun back in his relationship with Tucker, but what an odd way to get it. Micah stifled a chuckle.
The water shut off.
“Oh yeah, take that cock.”
Tucker appeared in the doorway with half his face covered in shaving cream and his mouth hanging open. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
Holding his glasses with one hand, Micah jumped and lifted his legs, coming down on his butt.
Clunk, clunk, screech.
The bed walked back and forth on the wood. “Oh yeah, baby!” He hopped back up, grinning from ear to ear. “You said to act like I was having sex,” he whispered. Dipping his knees a few times, he made the springs bounce. Chuckling, he hopped in a circle. “You like that, baby?”
“Micah,” Tucker snapped out.
“What? You said—”
“I top. Stop with the ‘take it’ stuff. And quit jumping on the bed before you hurt yourself.”
What?
“
Dios mio.
”
Micah froze mid-bounce. When he came down, his teeth slammed together.
Ow.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re irritated because I’m pretending to top?”
“I always top.” Tucker crossed his arms and leaned against the door, staring at him incredulously.
Despite Micah’s resolve to get over his infatuation, the little giddy feeling started up again. The stark reminder of their one time together came crashing back. It had been good before Tucker had run out on him while he slept. There was just something about having a nice hard cock up—
Micah frowned. His irritation with Tucker was coming back. “Just what’re you insinuating?” He hopped on the bed a couple times in a row. He was not some wuss because he liked to get fucked, damn it. And he was getting really tired of the whole “you’re just out of the hospital” crap.
“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m stating a fact. I top. Always.” Tucker’s brow furrowed. It became apparent why opposing football players in college had feared him and why businessmen probably still did, but that glare didn’t work on Micah. “No one, especially my family, would ever believe otherwise.”
“Well, I get to top in imaginary sex.” Micah pushed the wire frames back up his nose and resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out.
“No, you don’t.” Pushing away from the door, Tucker strode forward, scowling now. He looked mean.
This was the most ridiculous conversation ever. Micah should just drop it, it was beyond silly, but he didn’t. “Oh yes I do.” He jumped a few more times. “Oh yeah, baby. Take. It. You like my big fat cock up yo—”
Tucker tackled him.
Beauty is only skin deep…until love reveals what lies beneath.
The Pharaoh’s Concubine
© 2011 Z.A. Maxfield
As mob boss Yvgeny Mosko’s open secret, Dylan Anderson is happy enough with a passionate, if loveless, arrangement that affords him a life of luxury. But at thirty-six, he wonders how committed Mosko will be to an aging lover.
He finds out when a rival gang kidnaps him in a turf war everyone’s sure to lose. Mosko unleashes deadly force, leaving no one alive except for a young man whose dark eyes tug at Dylan’s heart—and the conscience he thought he’d excised long ago.
Though he tried to stop the kidnapping, William “Memo” Escobar knows Mosko will use what’s left of him to send a powerful message to his rivals. When Mosko’s pampered pretty boy risks everything to help him escape, he can’t believe his luck.
William figures he’s better suited to life off the grid, but as the days go by he begins to realize Dylan’s beauty is more than skin deep. And as Dylan coaxes more and more beguiling smiles from William, he yearns for things—like family ties—he’d thought were best forgotten.
Yet behind their newfound happiness lurks the certain knowledge that no matter how careful they are, Mosko will come for what’s his.
Warning: This book contains a mob boss, a kept man, and a reluctant kidnapper who will never have to hear the words, “Size doesn’t matter.”
Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Pharaoh’s Concubine:
Dylan’s breath caught when he saw William’s nude body, the skin of his bare back golden and glistening, inviting in the low light even if his abominable tattoos reminded Dylan of things he’d rather forget. Yves had a mural of colorful tattoos, quasi religious in nature, each facet symbolizing some part of his life in prison, his status among his men, his years in the mob, reworked and added onto with each new turn in the road his life had taken.
William’s tats, with the exception of the enticing round one next to his cock, had been etched there as a beginning, the
once upon a time
of his story. Dylan didn’t doubt
he
was meant to have become part of the inked résumé—as a victim, had their attempt to ransom him been successful. Yet he could no more stop staring than he could have stopped breathing.
If only he could remember how to breathe at all.
Everything had changed with that earlier embrace. Dylan saw William with new eyes, and he hadn’t imagined William’s appraisal of him at dinner or the subtle sensual challenge he saw there.
After a silent moment, William spoke. “I could use boots.”
Dylan lifted his focus from William’s chest to find him watching, his gaze cautious but maybe a little smug.
William waited. “Maybe a hat and some shades like yours? That would be cool.”
Dylan’s soggy jeans were half undone. They draped precariously low on his hips. William’s gaze dropped to the line of pubic hair that showed above wet blue fabric. Dylan’s cheeks flushed. Any slight shift and William would see the effect his presence was having on Dylan’s body. Again.
Dylan grabbed up his towel and muttered, “Excuse me,” before heading to the bathroom.
Well, shit. What was that all about? Dylan wanted him. Why did he keep running away?
William was too fucking sore, cold and tired to worry about it. Walking had sucked the energy right out of him. He felt a little sick, like the mountain air really didn’t have enough oxygen in it for him to do more than lie on his bed and rest.