by S. E. Harmon
I tried my best to distract him. “I meant to ask, how’d your meeting go with Tate?”
“It went.” He glared out the window as my father collected the tent and gave us a jaunty wave that we did not return. “Let’s just say she did a lot of talking, and I did a lot of listening.”
“And?”
“And she says against her better judgment, the PTU lives to see another day.”
“Against her better judgement?” I scowled, toweling off the cutting board thoroughly. “We solved a lot of open missing persons cases and brought a goddamned serial killer to justice.”
“We also almost fell off a building.”
“You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet,” I said indignantly. “It’s not a perfect science.”
“Turns out she’s not so keen when the eggs in question are our heads.”
I made an annoyed sound. “I'm guessing reimbursement for my watch is going to be a no.”
“It's going to be a fuck no.” He smirked. “And wasn’t that watch from an ex of yours? If anything had to go splat on the concrete that day, it had to be that watch.”
“It was a Rolex, Daniel. You just don’t throw a Rolex off a building.”
His shadow appeared behind me in the window as he wound his arms around my waist. He rested his face in the crook of my neck, and my mild irritation faded away to nothing. “Weren’t you talking about getting an Apple watch anyway?”
“I guess.”
We watched my father together for a few moments. Despite my reservations about setting up any sort of edifice for illegal activity, I’d offered to help. Danny had gone out there too, at least three times. My father had waved us both off, claiming he wanted to do it on his own and impress my mother.
“Can’t believe he’s still at it,” Danny marveled.
I chuckled, shaking my head. Frankly, I’d be happy if he couldn’t get the thing to stand. I mean, I’d saved a life. Wasn’t I owed some good mojo?
The tent finally popped in place and my dad punched his fist in the air.
As usual, my mojo was shit.
Danny leaned back to kiss the juncture of my neck, and I immediately missed the scrape of his stubble. “How’s your office working out?”
“Very well, thank you. I’m going to get a ton of ghostly shit done in there.”
“Good to know.”
I broke his embrace and secured his hand in mine. I was done with the parent-watching and ready for something a little more Rain-approved. I led him through the kitchen and made a beeline for the bedroom. He followed along docilely enough, a willing, eager captive.
He turned the tables on me when the bed was in sight and pushed me back on it. I landed with a grunt. A moment later, he pounced, powering me down to the mattress and doing his level best to devour my mouth.
When he finally moved down to nip and lick at my neck, I struggled for air. “Hey, we moved in together. We’re supposed to be an old, mature couple now.”
“Newsflash,” he said, pulling back to yank off my shirt. He leaned back down and started licking and gently biting my nipples into stiff peaks. “We are.”
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Here’s a newsflash for you. I find you hotter now than I ever did.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. Hotter than….” I lost my train of thought briefly as he worked my shorts off. “Hotter than a jalapeno pepper.”
I felt his smile against my stomach as he informed me, “They’re really not all that hot.”
I pulled at his shoulders until he came back up, so I could work on his belt buckle. His zipper was next, and in a less than a minute, I’d divested him of everything but his shirt. “Lose the shirt. Time to see where you land on the Scoville scale.”
He pulled the shirt over his head. His dick pulsed, hard and proud against his belly. “I’m at least a ghost pepper.”
I smiled, working my own dick with my hand. “Talk is cheap, Irish.”
Of course, Danny wasn’t all talk. He was, however, a controlling bastard. I wanted it fast and hard, but he wouldn’t give it to me. I wanted it on my knees, not on my back with my thighs spread wide. I wanted to touch him all over—instead he caught my wrists in his hand and restrained them over my head.
He wasn’t supposed to fuck me with his lips on mine, kissing me so deep and thoroughly it was hard to know where he ended and I began. Every time I broke our connection to cry out or beg for more, he recaptured my mouth again, determined to have his way. He wasn’t supposed to fuck me like I was his most precious thing, like he would shatter if he didn’t treat me like priceless china. And I certainly wasn’t supposed to come when he said I should. My lust-addled mind only had a few moments to reflect that surely that only happened in books before I came hard, shouting and then whispering his name, a benediction on my kiss-swollen lips.
He collapsed on me only a few seconds after. I rubbed circles on his damp back, congratulating myself on not complaining that he was heavy as fuck. After the work he’d done on my body, he deserved a little rest.
“That wasn’t spicy, you know,” I lamented. “That was so sweet it gave me a goddamned toothache.”
“What?” he asked blearily.
I gave him a poke. “I told you I never wanted to have Harlequin Romance sex.”
He huffed out a laugh, his nose buried against my neck. It didn’t seem like a position conducive to breathing. Hell, I wasn’t breathing all that easily with his bulk stretched out on top of me, but when he sighed and started to move, I locked my arm around the small of his back.
“Stay,” I whispered.
He murmured in agreement.
It was quiet, there in the darkened bedroom. Or at least, it was. As if on cue, the sound of an African rain stick drifted through the air. I sighed. My parents. I knew if I looked out the window, I’d see my mother on their tiny porch, legs folded in some impossible position as her delicate fingers worked the instrument. My father was probably out there too, laid out in a deck chair, a smile playing on his mouth. Having them so close was actually comforting—probably more than it should’ve been, considering my age. I decided to just go with it.
“You really don’t mind them next door?” I asked into the darkness.
“No.”
“And you’d say something if you did?”
“Yup.”
I chuckled softly. “Eloquent, Daniel.”
“You know me.” He sat up with a sigh, mustering the energy to roll us both so I was on top. Those big hands moved up and down my spine by rote, making me shiver. “Anything that makes you happy is fine by me.”
“You fought me on rugs for nearly a year.”
“We have hardwood floors, Rain. Beautiful, fucking hardwood floors.”
We. I smiled a little. “Yes, we do,” I murmured.
I’d almost drifted off when his voice broke the silence. “You never answered the question.”
It took me a minute to fight sleep’s hold and focus. “You didn’t ask me a question,” I said drowsily.
“You are happy here, aren’t you?”
Happy? Had I finally achieved that lofty goal? Surely some linguist put that term in our toolbox of emotions to describe a general sense of well-being. But it just seemed too simple. I was comforted. Peaceful. I felt like… like I finally belonged somewhere. Could I really just use one word for all that?
Yes, I decided. I mouthed the word happy, just trying it out. As a perpetual pessimist, it was foreign tasting on my lips, but no less meaningful. And I suppose if tech could boil down to a string of ones and zeroes—as Chevy continued to grouchily insist—then I guess my state of being could be condensed in a single word. Happy.
“More than I thought possible,” I finally said.
He yawned, clearly unbothered that such a simple question sent my brain into overdrive. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Funny. Because that’s all I needed to say.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I�
�d like to mention a few people who helped me whip this book into shape. Leslie Copeland and Jill Wexler, thank you for your awesomely fantastic beta reading and proofing skills. For the wonderful editing, I’d like to thank Kiyle Brosius, who probably already found six errors in this acknowledgment. Any logistical or grammatical errors in the book are mine, made for stylistic preferences or plain old stubbornness.
And a special mention to all the readers who loved Rain and Danny as much as I do. Thank you for all the harassment…er, encouragement that made me realize their story should keep going. Without you guys, this book would still only exist in my head.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Principles of Spookology! If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review. If you’re interested in reading more by me, make sure you follow me on Facebook, Amazon, or Bookbub, so you’ll be notified of new releases. You can also sign up for my newsletter to know what’s next in my fictional world.
Happy Reading!
S.E. Harmon
Kelly Cannon is satisfied with his life. He has friends, a wonderful family, and a great job. But his love life has reached a new level of pitiful. Why? Well, his heart decided to break all the rules. Don’t fall in love with a straight guy. And definitely don’t fall in love with your best friend.
NFL standout Britton “Blue” Montgomery has pressure coming at him from all sides. From his father, who’s only interested in Blue’s football career. From his coaches, who just want him to play without getting injured again. From the fans. From his agent. And from his mother, who has popped up on the radar after leaving his family years before. And now his relationship with Kelly is on shaky ground, and that frightens Blue more than anything.
When Kelly admits he’s in love with Blue, bonds are tested, and Blue has to decide what’s really important. He doesn’t want to lose the number-one person in his life, but the cost to keep Kelly close might be more than he’s willing to pay.
It’s a good thing his nickname is the Blueprint—it’s time to draft a new set of plans.
A year ago, Kelly Cannon couldn’t imagine he’d end up with his formerly straight best friend. It’s hard to believe he can finally kiss Blue any time he wants… as long as they’re in private. And there’s the rub. Despite Kelly’s promise to wait until Blue is ready to come out, he’s tired of sneaking around. The cracks in their relationship are starting to show, and there might not be enough spackle in the world to fix them.
Britton “Blue” Montgomery may not be the physics brainiac his boyfriend is, but he’s not stupid. He knows Kelly isn’t completely happy. But he’s not ready to be the poster boy for bisexuals and gays in the NFL. He just wants to keep his head down, play the game he loves, and go home to the man he adores. Is that too much to ask?
With the truth slowly coming to the surface, Blue must make a choice. If it means losing Kelly, there’s no decision to make…. He has to find enough courage to face the music and hope they’ll survive the fallout.
Man. Happily-ever-afters may not be just for Disney princesses, but they sure are a lot of work.
SSA Rain Christiansen used to be the agency’s golden boy. It just takes one moment of weakness, one slight, tiny, itty-bitty paranormal sighting, and all of a sudden he’s the agency’s embarrassment. His boss gives him one last chance to redeem himself—go down to Brickell Bay, play nice with the local police, and leave the ghost sightings behind. Rain is determined to do exactly that, even if it kills him.
Cold-case detective Daniel McKenna’s latest investigation is going nowhere fast. Five years earlier, high school student Amy Greene went missing after leaving her part-time job and was never seen again. Daniel is glad to finally have the FBI help that his department requested, even if it does come in the form of his ex.
It doesn’t help that Rain is pretty sure he’s falling in love with Danny all over again—if he ever stopped. Add to that the frustration of seeing ghosts at every turn while he works a case that’s stalled in its tracks, and Rain is starting to wonder if second chances and happy endings are just for fairy tales.
Private investigator Mackenzie Williams’s newest client is everything he’s looking for in a guy—charming, beautiful, intelligent, and successful. There's only one itty bitty problem—the guy’s not exactly gay. In fact, Jordan Channing is looking for a PI to follow his fiancée. The smart thing would be to thank Jordan for his time, turn Mr. Perfect away (don’t let the door hit you on the rump, thank you very much), and forget he exists.
Of course, Mackenzie has never been accused of doing the smart thing. Being smart aleck is more his MO. Relationships aren’t up his alley, never have been. So why’s he so inexplicably drawn to his new client?
Jordan has always been the high achiever, a man who lives in a focused, controlled, and carefully constructed manner. But for the first time in his life, he has to admit the impossible—another man is getting his engine running on all cylinders. Despite Jordan’s denial, it’s not long before he can no longer resist the strong undercurrents pulling them together. Now Jordan must decide if he can go against everything he’s ever known to have the only love he’s ever wanted.
Screenwriter Noah Ashley has a few four-letter words for his agent when she suggests he improve his script by shadowing a PI. Still, because he’s an artist dedicated to his craft and she knows where the bodies are buried, he agrees. Then he spends a little time with the gorgeous PI, and suddenly it seems like a really good plan. The PI doesn’t seem to entirely love the idea, but Noah has never been afraid to go after what he wants.
PI Drew Rodriguez is used to people depending on him. He’s the classic rock for his family. Responsible. Dependable. The classic rock would never succumb to the borderline sleazy temptation of friends with benefits, no matter how sexy that temptation is. Drew is looking for something enduring.
Despite Drew’s misgivings, it’s not long before they’ve got all the requisites for friends with benefits going. Friendly, good conversation? Check. Fun times in and out of bed? Check. Hot, electrolyte-sapping sex? Double check. Falling in love? Yeah. About that….
By S.E. Harmon
RULES OF POSSESION
The Blueprint
A Deeper Blue
THE SPECTRAL FILES
P.S. I Spook You
Principles of Spookology
THE PI GUYS
Stay With Me
So Into You
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S.E. Harmon has had a lifelong love affair with writing. It’s been both wonderful and rocky (they've divorced several times), but they always manage to come back together. She's a native Floridian with a Bachelor of Arts and a Masters in Fine Arts, and now splits her days between voraciously reading romance novels and squirreling away someplace to write them. Her current beta reader is a nosy American Eskimo who begrudgingly accepts payment in the form of dog biscuits.
Website: seharmon.weebly.com
Email: [email protected]