EM Lynley writes gay romance. She loves books where the hero gets the guy and the loving is 11 on a scale of 10. She has worked in high finance, high tech, and in the wine industry, though she’d rather be writing hot, romantic man-on-man action. She spent 10 years as an economist and financial analyst, including a year as a White House Staff Economist, but only because all the intern positions were filled.
Her Precious Gems series is best described as “Indiana Jones meets Romancing the Stone”—only gayer. The Delectable series is Gay Romance with Taste. Her books are available in print and e-book from Amazon & other book distributors.
Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:
I’ll post a snippet from one of EM Lynley”s books with the character names asterisked out.
Your mission is to guess which of EM’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to me, zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. Winner gets an ebook. It’s that simple! Come play along…
HERE’s the snippet:
“Hi, ####,” **** said. The guy was always smiling, even though his business had burned down. No one could be that cheerful, especially at six thirty in the morning.
He had a towel slung loosely around his waist, and his hair was still wet, bangs falling into his eyes. He looked far too much like that shower dream #### had had—more than once.
“Morning.” #### tried not to stare at the firm, smooth chest and the nipples that haunted his daydreams. **** didn’t have a gym physique, but clearly he got a decent workout from all the lifting and carrying he must do in the bakery. His pecs were nicely shaped, and he had some definition in his shoulders and biceps.
“You’re here early.” ****’s hand was still bandaged, with a big Baggie over it. He pulled the plastic off and grabbed a can of shaving cream from the counter and turned toward ####. “Not talking? That’s okay. I like the strong, silent type.”
That got ####’s blood boiling. Why was **** being such a tease? “Will you cut that shit out? I’m not interested in you.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone your secret. Stay in the closet.”
“I’m not—” ####’s hands balled into fists before realized it, and he tried to pull himself together. He didn’t look at ****. As if not seeing him would make him go away. Why didn’t he just leave? In the mirror he saw **** shake the can of shaving cream. The towel slipped off his hips. #### couldn’t help staring. ****’s cock, which hung down past his balls, was worth staring. Five inches now? What would it look like hard?
**** didn’t pick up the towel. “Go ahead. I don’t mind if you look. Like I said, I won’t say anything. But I don’t believe your protests.” He put the shaving cream down on the counter and walked up close to ####. “Tell me again you’re not interested.”
#### pushed **** back a pace, intending to leave, but once his fingers grazed ****’s warm, damp skin, his brain stopped communicating with his feet. **** put a hand on ####’s belt buckle, and all hell broke loose in his shorts. He couldn’t stop the erection, and he felt the blood filling his cock until it almost hurt. It would be completely obvious in the fitted uniform trousers.
**** looked in that direction and smiled. “At least part of you isn’t lying. The important part.”
Thank God no one else was around for this. #### grabbed ****’s wrist off his belt, and instead of pulling it away, he pulled **** in close and ####’s other arm went around his waist, almost of its own accord. With ****’s body pressed against his, #### leaned in for a kiss. **** opened his mouth and let #### in. He tasted like toothpaste and smelled woodsy from the station’s body wash. His lips were soft, yet firm, and his tongue danced around ####’s.
He could feel ****’s cock hardening against his own, and he took the kiss deeper, devouring ****’s mouth like he hadn’t kissed anyone in months. At least no one he wanted as much he craved ****. He liked the way **** curled his arms around ####’s neck. #### slid a hand down to squeeze ****’s ass. Nice and round and firm. ****’s cock responded to ####’s touch.
Then ####’s brain kicked in, and he let go of **** and pulled away, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. What the hell was he doing? Fooling around in the station was number one on his list of “don’t out yourself” activities to avoid, and here he was, letting this guy—Dumbass Bakery Guy—push all his hot buttons
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Thanks for joining us, EM!