Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits includes:

  Weber Yates’s dreams of stardom are about to be reduced to a ranch hand’s job in Texas, and his one relationship is with a guy so far out of his league he might as well be on the moon. Or at least in San Francisco, where Weber stops to see him one last time before settling down to the humble, lonely life he figures a frog like him has coming.

  Cyrus Benning is a successful neurosurgeon, so details are never lost on him. He spotted the prince in a broken-down bull rider’s clothing from day one. But watching Weber walk out on him keeps getting harder, and he’s not sure how much more his heart can take. Now Cyrus has one last chance to prove to Weber that it’s not Weber’s job that makes him Cyrus’s perfect man, it’s Weber himself. With the help of his sister’s newly broken family, he’s ready to show Weber that the home the man’s been searching for has always been right there, with him. Cyrus might have laid down an ultimatum once, but now it’s turned into a vow—he’s never going to let Weber out of his life again.

  A Being(s) in Love Story

  Arthur MacArthur needs a job, and not just for the money. Before he dropped out of school to support his younger sister, he loved being a research assistant at the university. But working for a dragon, one of the rarest and least understood magical beings, has unforeseen complications. While Arthur may be the only applicant who isn’t afraid of Philbert Jones in his dragon form, the instant attraction he feels for his new employer is beyond disconcerting.

  Bertie is a brilliant historian, but he can’t find his own notes without help—his house is a hoard of books and antiques, hence the need for an assistant. Setting the mess to rights is a dream come true for Arthur, who once aspired to be an archivist. But making sense of Bertie’s interest in him is another matter. After all, dragons collect treasure, and Arthur is anything but extraordinary.

  Love’s Value: Book One

  For Josh Brooks, it’s a summer of wishes come true. First he gets his dream horse from a rival trainer. Then his brother’s Army Ranger buddy, Dane Keller, comes to work on the ranch and Josh meets his dream lover too. Dane is hot, competent, and fresh out of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Everything would be perfect—except nobody knows Josh and Dane are gay.

  All Dane wants is a quiet life in a less claustrophobic closet and a ranch job where he can earn a living. But when his best friend’s little brother, the one who wrote the letters that kept their spirits up in Afghanistan, turns out to have grown up in all the right ways, Dane can’t help wanting more despite his fear of commitment.

  While Dane and Josh are busy trying—and failing—to keep their hands to themselves, someone else is watching, biding his time. Then he strikes, first at Josh and then at the prized horse. When all of their secrets and fears are exposed, Dane is determined to protect Josh, even if it means leaving him behind.

  State trooper Brandt’s new assignment to infiltrate a sex-cam operation puts him in a very uncomfortable position, especially since he’ll have to perform naked on camera for his audition. Fortunately his partner and best friend, Donnelly, has his back—whether that means helping Brandt shop gay boutiques for sexy underwear or offering Jäger and encouragement while he researches porn.

  Despite his mortification, Brandt gives the audition his best “shot”—and becomes an overnight sensation. But to meet the man behind the operation, he’ll have to give a repeat performance, this time live on webcam opposite the highest bidder. Donnelly makes sure to win that auction for his partner’s sake, but their plan has a flaw: faking it is not an option.

  In the aftermath, Brandt is a humiliated mess trying desperately to come to terms with what he’s had to do for the job and his own mixed feelings. But Donnelly has been on a journey of discovery of his own. Suddenly everything the two men thought they knew about themselves and each other gets turned inside out. Meanwhile, they still have a case to solve… but it may not be the case they thought it was.

  Logan Sellers’s parole officer has issued three commandments: stay sober, stay employed, and stay out of trouble. At first Logan thought those three simple rules would be easy to follow. But that was before he accepted a side job assisting his boss’s housebound agoraphobic nephew, Caleb.

  Caleb is deceptively normal for a guy who hasn’t left his apartment in three years, and his friendly, caring personality tugs on heartstrings Logan didn’t know he had. But hitting on his boss’s nephew is asking to be unemployed. Logan has enough problems with booze on every corner and a supervisor trying to jump into his bed. He doesn’t need to work out how to free Caleb from the anxiety that keeps him in his apartment; he needs to keep his nose clean, attend his AA meetings, and make a fresh start—alone.

  If only his heart would get with the program.

  Chapter One

  IT WAS pouring when I walked outside to use the pay phone. I was so close; I could stop or just catch another bus depending on how he sounded on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  Not Cy, someone else, and it was noisy wherever his phone was. I checked my watch—eight o’clock on a Friday night. He was probably at a club or a bar or even dinner. I was interrupting.

  “Hello?”

  I cleared my throat. “Uhm, sorry, I… is this Doc’s phone?”

  “Doc?”

  “Sorry, I mean Cyrus.”

  “Yeah, this is his. He just had me answer it ’cause he’s putting things away in the fridge. Who’s this?”

  I swallowed instead of hanging up like I should have. “This is Weber, and I—”

  “Weber who?”

  “Weber?” My name was repeated distantly.

  “Hey, Cy, do you know anybody named—”

  “You know what,” I started to say at the same minute there were sounds on the other end of the line, muffled, and then a quick bang, like something dropped, maybe the phone.

  “Weber?” He sounded breathless, and my name, because he was the one saying it, sounded amazing.

  “Hey.” I smiled into the phone even though the water was coming in under the booth and soaking through the bottoms of my worn cowboy boots. “Sorry to be interruptin’ whatever you’re doin’. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

  “You’re not interrupting anything. Where—”

  “Are you at a party?”

  “No, I’m just at a friend’s house, and we were about to have dinner.”

  “Then I’ll let you go and—”

  “It’s just a big group, Web, it’s nothing,” he assured me. “Where are you?”

  I was starting to shiver. “Not far, so I thought I would—”

  “Yes—” He cut me off. “—come see me. I’ll go home right now.”

  “Oh no, you—”

  “Web.” He caught his breath. “Please. Meet me there.”

  “I’ll meet you in the morning,” I told him, because I realized how exhausted I was, and I wanted to shower and shave before I saw him. I always showed up looking like hammered shit, in clothes I had slept in for a week. He deserved better.

  “Weber, I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Nothing to be sorry for.”

  There was a long silence, and after a minute I got it. I wasn’t that bright, but even I could figure things out. “I’m not punishing you. I just look like hell, and I’d like to look better this time. I promise I’ll be there.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yeah,” I said as my teeth started to chatter.

  “Oh God, you’re freezing. Are you… where exactly are you?”

  “At the Greyhound bus station in Oakland.”

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “You’re that close?”

  “Doc—”


  “Weber.” His voice cracked. “Please don’t make me wait until tomorrow. I don’t give a damn what you look like. Just let me come get you… please.”

  “I don’t wanna interrupt your—”

  “Web.” He sounded so serious, and I loved it. “I’ll beg—do you want me to beg?”

  “You don’t need to beg for nothin’, ever.”

  “Listen,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “just…. I’m so sorry about the last time.”

  Seven or so months ago I had been through on my way to Reno, and when I was ready to go, he had given me an ultimatum. Stay forever or go and never come back. He was tired of waiting, which I had no idea he’d even been doing, and he wanted me either to remain with him or lose his number. I had actually forgotten the fight until that very moment. I tended to remember only the good times with him and none of the bad.

  “Oh shit, Doc.” I trembled. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Web—”

  “God, I’m such an ass,” I groaned, feeling more than stupid. Talk about a needy bastard.

  “No!”

  No? “Darlin’, are you—”

  “Weber Yates, don’t you dare hang up this phone!”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I want to see you!”

  He had to be making a spectacle of himself at whoever’s house he was at. “Calm down and stop your yellin’. I don’t want no one lookin’ at ya like you’re crazy.”

  “I don’t care! Jesus Christ, Web, just—”

  “Are you sure you wanna see me?”

  He made a strangled noise. “Yes, please. So sure.”

  “You ain’t mad no more?”

  “No, baby, I’m not mad. I was never mad.”

  I coughed softly. “Was that the guy?”

  There was a silence before he answered me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, last time I was here you said you were fixin’ to get serious with a guy who wanted to have one of those commitment ceremonies with you and so—”

  “No, that wasn’t him. I tried to make it work with the man you’re talking about, but… turns out you can’t love someone just because you should.”

  “So it’s over?”

  “Yes, it’s over; it’s been over for the last six months.”

  “’Cause I don’t wanna mess nothin’ up for ya. I reckon I put you through enough.”

  “There’s nothing to mess up, I assure you. I’m so sorry for how we…. Baby, I’m so sorry for what I said.”

  I realized between his tone and how shaky his breathing was that maybe I made a mistake. “You know, I’m kinda tore up. Maybe this wasn’t such a good—”

  “It was,” he snapped at me. “It was a great idea. Really nice of you to not let me feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

  I took a deep breath. “You’re not an asshole.”

  “But how I pressured you, the things I said…. I went after you, but you were already gone.”

  “You did?” I brightened because that was nice to hear.

  “Yes. God, Weber, I really am so sorry.”

  “Forget it. I’ll see you.”

  “When?”

  He knew me well for someone who had seen me maybe fifteen times in a three-year period—he knew to ask for a definitive timeline. Because when I said I would see him, it could mean either today, tomorrow, or before I died.

  “Weber?”

  I took a breath. “Well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I reckon you could come fetch me from the station here.”

  Deep exhale from him. “Okay. I’ll be right there. Don’t leave. Please.”

  “It ain’t like you to worry.”

  “No, I know, I just… I missed you, and I never have any way to reach…. I’m just so glad you called. You have no idea.”

  And because I knew him, I knew he really was.

  WE MET in Texas when I was breaking horses on a ranch between rodeos. He and some friends had come to hunt quail, and the guide was held up with another party, so my boss at the time asked me to run into town and pick the men up and drive them out to the ranch. I never thought the brown-eyed, chestnut-haired, golden-skinned man would take a second look at me. Even under the merciless Texas sun, he’d looked like a million bucks. Crisp, polished, pressed, the tailored dress suit and shirt that cost more than all my earthly possessions put together clung to the long lines of him and accentuated the muscles underneath. I could barely breathe.

  In the SUV, I stared at the road, kept quiet, and concentrated on not fidgeting. When they all piled out of the car after I rolled up to the huge ranch house, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. And then almost came out of my skin moments later when there was a hard tap on the glass. I rolled down the window, swallowing hard, my mouth bone dry.

  “What was your name?” the god asked me as I tried for the life of me to remember.

  I coughed. “Web. Weber Yates,” I managed to answer. “What’s yours?”

  “Cyrus. Cyrus Benning.”

  I smiled at him, taking in the swirl of gold in the milk chocolate eyes that you only noticed up close. He had long, dark, feathery lashes; chiseled features; and broad shoulders. The man was just mouthwatering and by far the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

  He nodded, and I watched his eyes narrow as he wet his lips. “I don’t normally—” He cleared his throat. “—and you’re probably not… but do you think you might want to have dinner with me?”

  I would not make it through dinner. “Or we could just find a motel and fuck,” I said before my brain kicked in. The man’s mouth, his full, sculpted lips, had made me want things I shouldn’t have. Looking at him, I got brave.

  He nodded, his smile wicked and wide. “We could do that, but I would also love to feed you if you let me.”

  “That’s not real safe in this town.”

  He nodded again as he leaned against the door and reached toward me, sliding the back of his fingers up my throat. “Okay then, room service and sex it is. When?”

  “I get off work at six.”

  “So, seven then?”

  I managed to nod.

  “Where?”

  I gave him the name of the best place in town. “I can get the room,” I said, even though it would bankrupt me and delay my exodus another two weeks. But it would be well worth it to crawl into bed with a man who would fill my daydreams for the rest of my life.

  “I’ll get the room,” he assured me, the curl of his lip intoxicating. “So, seven for sure?”

  “Seven would be just fine.”

  His eyes were all over me, and I heard his breath catch. “God, I really hope you’re a—”

  “Top,” I said, needing that to be clear from the get-go. I had never trusted anyone enough to bottom for them, and I certainly wasn’t going to start with some stranger I wanted to fuck, no matter how hot he was.

  “Yes.”

  “I am,” I assured him.

  He nodded.

  “Should I bring rope?” I teased him, to see how far I could push it.

  “Whatever you want just as long as you fuck me.”

  It was going to be a hell of an evening. “No worries about that. Until tonight then.”

  “Until tonight,” he said but didn’t move.

  Everyone else was inside, and the SUV sat parallel to the drive and was big enough to obscure every view from the house. So I leaned forward out of the window.

  “You wanna have a taste of me now?”

  In answer he dropped the duffel bag he was holding, grabbed my face with both of his hands, and looked at me.

  “Give me your tongue,” he ordered, and I realized for a bottom, the man was damn bossy.

  I had a second to smile before his lips met mine, open-mouthed and greedy, crushing and rough, just how I liked it. My gasp of pleasure was cut off, leaving me to moan deeply into his mouth, a sound that brought a rumble of desire up from his chest.

&nb
sp; He took what he wanted, and I let him, the kiss demanding and hard, his tongue stroking, tangling, pushing in deeper as he tasted and nibbled, ravaging my lips like I belonged to him.

  When I shoved him back, we were both panting.

  “Jesus,” he gasped, his big soft brown eyes wet and hot, his lips swollen and dark as he swallowed over and over.

  “Step back,” I ordered him, feeling better, empowered, and no longer like a poor substitute for the prince he was obviously kissing frogs to find. As he moved to allow me to open the door and get out, I remembered that I was actually good at this part, the fucking part. Romance? Long-term commitment? Forget it. But right now, hot-and-heavy, living in the moment—that I could do.

  “What are you—”

  “Come here.” I grabbed his bicep hard at the same time I slammed the car door, wrenching the man forward almost off his feet and dragging him after me.

  “Where are you taking—”

  I turned so fast he nearly walked into me, stopping fast, having to lift his hand so he didn’t hit me, and laying it flat on my chest. “You want me to fuck you or not?”

  He nodded, and I turned and pulled him after me, around the side of the house, down a short hill, through some bushes toward the barn where the machinery was kept. I took a left and shoved him up against the side of a smaller shack where the hand tools were kept. No one came down there in the middle of the day, in the heat, even though it was shaded where we were. I would hear anyone to the left walking over the gravel, and to the right was thick brush. We were safe.

  “Get those pants down,” I told him, pulling a lubed condom from the back pocket of my Wranglers. “And that shirt off.”

  He was shaking, but he did it, stripping on my order. The second I saw his hard, sculpted body, chiseled abdomen and chest, and watched the long, beautiful, cut brown cock bob free, I sank to my knees before him and took him down the back of my throat.

  “Holy fuck,” he groaned hoarsely, hand instantly fisted in my ginger hair, which fell thick and straight to my shoulders.