About half my time is spent as a corporate writer, and the other half riding a train of WTFery that sometimes results in a finished book. Beardless, I look like the uke in every yaoi manga in existence bearded or not, I sound like Barry White. I’m cuter than Hello Kitty, more bitter than the blackest coffee, and able to trip over cats in a single half-asleep lurch I’m what happens when a Broody Antihero and a Manic Pixie Dream Boy fight to the death, and someone builds a person from the scraps left behind.
Tall, bi/queer, introverted author of a brown-ish persuasion made up of various flavors of Black, Asian, and Native American. My pen names are multitudes, my nicknames legion. Whatever you want to call me both are true, and both are lies. He only knows, as he faces the hardest decisions of his life.the only thing that can save him is the love of his cocky valet.Īuthor's Note: If you're reading this, you likely know why this book exists. Ash can't quite understand why it feels so good to put himself in Brand Forsythe's capable, commanding hands. The sweet taboo of being submissive to the man in even the smallest things. The shivering thrill of surrendering to Brand.
Domineering and controlling, Brand quickly puts Ash's life in order.Įven if by day Ash has to project authority, leadership, and night he's discovering the breathless pleasure of giving up control.
Icy, detached, nearly twice Ash's age, the massive monolith of a British valet is impossible to deal with and like no servant Ash has ever met. He's spent his entire adult life playing fast and loose with his life and his loves, but when he's dragged into a position of responsibility with the fate of the company on his shoulders, he goes spinning into freefall.Īnd Brand Forsythe is the only man to catch him. At twenty-three years old, he's suddenly the head of a multibillion dollar global corporation he is in no way equipped to run.
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