|Parameters of Product: Ebooks|
|Flame Rating:||4 Flames|
|Cover Artist:||Angela Waters|
|Release Date:||November 15, 2010|
|Genre:||Futuristic, GLBT (m/m), Romance|
Reeve Taylor has hit his prime. Outwardly, he's physically fit--actually in the best shape of his life. He's got a great career, he came up smelling of roses after the invasion, his subordinates worship the ground he walks on and his lover's an attractive man with political clout. Life seems to be a fairytale, just perfect. What more could anyone want?
The sharpshooter's never measured success by money or an occupation, but instead by personal aspirations. Reeve wants it all--the kids, the house and the white picket fence. Driven by an insatiable need and tired of living in Slade's shadow, he begins to demand more out of their relationship than the swordsman is capable or perhaps willing to give.
Slade has walked this path before with the arguments and grief. He assumes Reeve's midlife crisis is just a blip, but it quickly becomes apparent this time his lover has crossed the line, alcohol, deceit and possible infidelity threaten the life they share. The sharpshooter's in trouble, his life's spiralling out of control. But can Slade forget the past and forgive him before it's too late?
Reeve’s lips curled into a disappointed frown. “Yep, nothing.” He gestured with a large hand. “What kind of person needs six cans of whipping cream? That’s just weird. We should get the hell out of this dump and grab some lunch, before I pass out from lack of nourishment, sweet cheeks.”
“Agreed.” Slade grimly eyed him. “Frig man, I’m not a girl!” When Reeve laughed, the commander caught the fridge door before it closed. He had an idea and swiped a tin of the whipping cream. “I know what this is for.” He started to shake the tin.
The cowboy’s chuckling abruptly ended and he cautiously backed away from his lover, that tin and the evil smirk on Slade’s face. “Hey now—wait just a bloody minute, blade boy! I know what you’re thinking, but we’re here to look at the house not christen it…”
Slade wickedly laughed and shaking the can of whipping cream, pressed a finger to the serrated tip and the semisweet white spray hit Reeve’s face.The cowboy ducked and dove at him, pinning his body to the dining room table in the adjoining room. The tables wooden legs let off a high-pitched screech, scraping the tiled floor.
Slade struggled with him to keep control of the tin, then he swore as Reeve shot the sticky foam under his shirt.
Reeve chuckled while mashing it into the material with a flat hand. It was cold and Slade cuffed him. His chest and stomach were coated. “You bastard…shit!” Reeve howled holding his gut. Slade looked like a kitten with two balls of whipping cream on either side of his head and foam on his nose.
Slade grumbled, then smirked, lifting his shirt up. “Oh man, Reeve, I’m totally stuck here!” The large man grinned and yanked each of his boots off. The commander blinked staring at him. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He gripped the waist of his jeans, cursing as Reeve persisted on pulling them off his body. “This isn’t the time or place, cowboy!”