Lone wolf by Aleksandr Voinov and L.A. Witt

LoneWolf_500x750-NoRoosh

amazon.com: amazon.co.uk: riptidepublishing.com

Blurb:

Hunter Easton is screwed. Fans, producers, and his agent are all chomping at the bit for the next book in his wildly popular Wolf’s Landing series, but he’s got epic writer’s block and is way behind deadline. Then he reads The World Tree, a fanfic novel by his online friend “Lone Wolf.” It isn’t just a great story—it’s exactly what the series needs.

Kevin Hussain is thrilled when “Wolf Hunter” wants to meet up after reading The World Tree. When Wolf Hunter turns out to be Hunter Easton himself, Kevin is starstruck. When Hunter tells him he wants to add The World Tree to Wolf’s Landing, Kevin is sure he’s being pranked. And when their online chemistry carries over—big time—into real life, Kevin is convinced it’s all too good to be true.

The problem is . . . it might be. The book deal, the sex, the money—everything is amazing. But fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and Kevin is left wondering if Hunter really loves him, or just loves his book.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Hunter Easton decided there was definitely something to be said about casually dating a man who loved showers, not to mention shower sex. The stall in Ryan’s bathroom was large enough to clean a truck in and the water pressure was oh-just-so-right. While Ryan dozed in the other room, Hunter positioned himself in the sweet spot that all those nozzles targeted and moved a bit to get his sorest areas massaged. Those between his shoulders. Not the other ones.

Over the sound of the water, he couldn’t hear a thing. Not Ryan’s soft snores, and certainly not Hunter’s phone. That little tyrant was still in the bedroom, and on purpose. His voice mail was rapidly filling up with messages from all the people who really wanted book eight because it meant another large deposit in their various bank accounts.

Ryan’s shower was damn near orgasmic, which was nice when his body had run out of the other kinds of orgasms. Hunter stretched under the water, then leaned forward against the lapis lazuli tiles to enjoy the massage jet hitting his spine. Nothing else existed. Only hot water, steam, his body, and a mind that was very slowly waking up. Yesterday he’d been stressed out, but Ryan had fixed that with a couple of hours in the gym, a steak at a friendly grill, and then lots of sex. Also, Ryan didn’t read fiction. He wasn’t dumb, just a bit of a meathead. If he cracked a cover at all, it was a fitness manual or a nutrition book. No time for paranormal thrillers.

Perfect fit.

Hunter’s brain was kicking into gear and with that came his to-do list. Get coffee. Drive home. Finish chapter ten. Probably return a few calls lest somebody leak to a reporter that he’d gone “missing.” His agent Leanne kept joking that he was the type of author who’d just vanish midseries to join a Buddhist temple in Lhasa. Preemptive mind control via guilt-trip. But it kept him somewhat on the straight (ha) and narrow.

He fully expected several voice mails from Leanne. More from her than anyone else. After all, she was the only one who’d caught on thus far that there might not be an eighth book because . . . because he had no idea what needed to happen next. He’d been beating his head against the wall for months, and he’d reached the point of avoiding his entire office for hours, even days at a time because he couldn’t stare down the barrel of that book anymore. Wolf’s Landing had pretty much poured out of his brain for seven and a half volumes, but now he didn’t know where to go with it. He hadn’t told Leanne what was happening—or not happening, as it were—but she’d caught on regardless. And he just couldn’t deal with her today. He couldn’t deal with anything. All the pressure and obligation was seriously getting old.

The water started to get cold, so Hunter shut it off and stepped out. He dried himself and dressed in the bathroom so he wouldn’t wake Ryan, but as he crept back into the bedroom, Ryan stirred.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Hunter slid his phone into his back pocket without daring to look at the screen. “It’s pushing noon.”

Ryan stiffened. He scrubbed a big hand over his face and glared at the clock beside the bed. “I’ll be damned. This is what happens when you keep me up until four.”

Hunter laughed as he leaned down to kiss Ryan’s scruffy cheek. “Well, it was worth it. I’ll see you on Thursday?”

“Mm-hmm. Mind putting the coffee on before you go?”

“Always do.”

“Thanks.”