It’s Wednesday and I was supposed to be in Vegas but some annoying little germs put paid to THAT, so instead I’m entertaining myself with Tyler Robbins’s fantastic new book Heaven’s Just a Sin Away, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of erotic romance. Take it away, Tyler!
Having just lost his mother to cancer, eighteen year old, Blueford “Blue” Mason returned to their hometown of Danville, Texas to live with his reticent grandmother, Alma. The two struggle to bond while Blue undergoes a metamorphosis into manhood, discovering new things about himself, his sexuality, life, love and even heartbreak.
After leaving his former fire department due to intolerance of his sexuality, twenty-three year old, Jack West moved to Danville to work as an EMT for his uncle’s small fire department. He’d resigned himself to living a quiet life alone until Blue came along and turned his world upside-down.
Will the young lovers find acceptance in Danville or will shameful secrets from the distant past set this town ablaze when the people around them are forced to face their own shortcomings?
Heaven’s just a sin away for everyone, especially when every sin is created equally.
Goddamn. What the hell am I doing? Despite his first inclination to get up and leave the room as fast as his legs could carry him, Jack gave into Blue’s persistent movement. “Goddamn, Blue.” He was huge. Even through clothes, Jack could feel every inch of the thick, stiff shaft. He wanted so badly to unzip Blue’s pants and suck out every drop of cum he had to offer. He couldn’t though. Not like this. Not so soon.
Jack shook off the dizzying argument complicating his thoughts.
The way Blue looked up at him, Jack couldn’t ignore the desperate plea darkening those fucking bottomless sapphire-blue orbs. “What is it?” Concern nipped at the nerves along the base of Jack’s skull.
“I’ve never…” He pressed his lips together, his gaze cutting away.
What? He’s never… Jack’s mind instantly blanked as the revelation sank in. Holy shit. He’d suspected, but—Damn.
Despite knowing better, Jack moved his hand up and down, kneading Blue’s cock through his pants. He’d become even hotter in some twisted, erotic way. “Never?”
Blue slowly shook his head. “Never even been kissed until now.”
Jack had absolutely lost his mind. Nothing was more exhilarating or more dangerous than being someone’s first. But being someone’s first kiss, first jerk-off and possibly first everything else all in one fell swoop was riskier than running into an exploding high-rise inferno. Someone would definitely get burned before this was over. Jack knew it deep in his gut.
Blue put his hand on top of Jack’s and pushed down, encouraging him. “Don’t stop.” He jammed the back of his head into the sofa cushion with a deep, sensual moan as his body shuddered beneath Jack’s touch.
Jack couldn’t help it. He ground his groin into Blue’s thigh. He had to know. He had to feel each tremor, each twitch. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than witnessing this thing of beauty unravel under his touch.
Blue bucked upward, and that was it. That was all it took.
Jack rubbed harder, faster. “God, you’re fucking killing me here.” He memorized the blue-green veins protruding from the strained muscles in Blue’s neck and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. The subtle way his lips puckered and the way his brow hardened from what Jack knew was that erotic ache that takes over when on the brink of orgasm. “Give it to me.” He’d never wanted anything more.
Blue bit his bottom lip and grimaced, prompting Jack to forget all about his own pending explosion and focus on what Blue was about to experience. Jack searched Blue’s eyes. “You want this bad, don’t you?”
Blue nodded, his brows creasing even deeper until he squeezed his eyelids shut.
Jack kissed and suckled the curve of Blue’s neck then whispered in his ear, “Come for me.”
Blue thrust his groin upward and arched his back, lifting himself off the couch and up against Jack’s body. “Oh fuck.”
His body jerked, and Jack instantly felt the heat from inside Blue’s still buttoned khakis.
“Ung.” Blue gripped Jack tightly around the neck and fell back onto the cushions, dragging Jack with him.
Almost there, Jack only needed a few seconds more. He continued to grind into Blue’s leg, but Blue nudged him back and cupped Jack’s cock through his jeans. They both looked down and watched as Jack fucked the concave curve of Blue’s open hand.
Blue’s persistence surprised Jack. Maybe he had more experience than he’d led Jack to believe. Blue rubbed up and down, and Jack held his breath until—his balls drew up and a delicious tremor zinged across his body like a tiny earthquake, intensified by the young man beneath him and the way Blue so eagerly finished him off.
Where to Buy
About Tyler Robbins
Tyler Robbins, a.k.a. Robin Badillo, is a down to earth mother of four, born and raised in a small Texas town where she still resides with her nearly grown kids and a pack of spoiled dogs.
After years of being a wife and mom, complete with company picnics and fundraisers for the P.T.A., Robin found herself starting over when her husband of fifteen years suddenly passed away in 2006. With no particular skills to speak of, Robin took the advice of friends and family, and followed her heart and passion for writing into the publishing world.
A fan of paranormal and southern romance novels, Robin does her best to offer up a plethora of tasty morsels to satisfy her reader’s appetite. Whether mainstream and/or paranormal erotic romance or Tyler’s LGBT romance line, Robin strives to create characters who are endearing and relatable.
Adversity is Robin’s motivation, which explains why she’s a true believer that grey hair is simply God’s graffiti.
Where to find Tyler Robbins
A little bit of background about “Bully Boys” — I had just finished the BBC’s NORTH AND SOUTH when I saw the call for the antho, so I kinda had Richard Armitage in full Victorian fig lodged in my head when I sat down to come up with a story. Since I was already thinking Victorian, I figured, “Okay, let’s set it in Victorian London. Now what kind of shifter species would you expect to find in the Smoke way back then?”
Which is how I settled on bull terrier shifters. Personally I happen to adore pitties, but they’re tough dogs when threatened. I could see RA being able to shift into a Black Staffordshire bull terrier and leading a rough-and-tumble shifter pack in the slums of London.
Of course, then I had to come up with Gunner’s mate. *dimples* Let’s just say that I’m a fan of Peter Jackson’s latest trilogy and leave it at that.
When Victorian solicitor Arthur Finter is forced to cut down a dangerous London alley after work, he stumbles upon pit bull shifter Alpha Gunner Jones in the middle of a dogfight with a rival shifter pack. The hardnosed bully boy scents Arthur and recognizes him as his mate, but will events orchestrated by the other pack separate them before Gunner can lay final claim?
When Arthur awoke, he was in bed. The awful scene in the alley drifted through his memory, dim now from sleep. It was just a nightmare. Oh, thank goodness.
He tried to turn over, and couldn’t. Looking up, he saw that a length of hemp rope had been tied around his right wrist and woven with very little slack through an unfamiliar brass headboard. The other end of the rope had been attached to his left wrist, effectively pinning his arms wide.
Lifting his head as high as possible, he stared around his prison. It appeared to be a small bedroom, lit only by a coal fire in a blackened grate. A row of hooks on the far wall held various items of clothing, and an armoire hulked in the corner. A plain wooden table stood next to the bed, bare of anything except a candlestick with an unlit candle.
He flexed his feet and found that his legs were bound as well, with the same amount of slack given to his arms. To make matters worse, someone had removed his clothes before tying him to the bed and covering him with a thin blanket.
Panic set in, making his heart lurch. “Help!” he shouted. “Please, I need help!”
The door opened and his hopes were dashed as the handsome werebeast sauntered in, carrying a wash bowl and water jug. He’d taken the time to rinse the blood from his face and slick his hair back, and an old, threadbare towel hung casually over one shoulder.
“Someone’s up, I see,” he said in an East-End accent.
Arthur fought down his fear and gave the man his best glower. “Untie me immediately, sir!”
“Can’t do that. At least, not just yet.” The man approached the bed, giving him an appreciative look. Arthur belatedly remembered his nude state, and cringed under the cheap blanket that protected his modesty. “I suppose you want to know why you’re here, then.”
“Indeed I do,” Arthur said, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. “I am a solicitor, sir, and if you do not untie me this moment, you will find yourself in grave trouble with the law.”
The man shrugged. “Won’t be the first time. Doubt it’ll be the last.” He moved to the bedside table and deposited the jug and bowl on it, then sat down on the mattress. That blue gaze trailed over him dispassionately, but there was a flicker of something else as well, something that tugged at Arthur’s senses and caused his breath to come faster.
The man grabbed the edge of the blanket, dragging it down to just below Arthur’s waist. The solicitor flinched as the cool air of the room hit his skin, causing it to break out in embarrassing gooseflesh.
“You’re trim. I like that in a bloke,” the man said conversationally. “Don’t spend all of your time on your arse, do you?”
Arthur gaped at him. “I—how—that’s none of your business!”
“Oh, but it is my business.” His captor sounded amused about that. “Everything about you, Mr. Arthur Finter, is my business. Now that we’re to be mates and all.”
The bizarre comment would have made Arthur laugh in other circumstances. “If you mean we’re to be friends, sir, I can assure you that I feel no such friendship with anyone who ties me to a bed and terrorizes me in such a manner!”
The man tilted his head to one side, and Arthur was forcibly reminded of his other shape. “You’re tied to my bed to make sure you don’t run away,” he said. “I know you saw what happened in the alley, and I’ll explain it in good time. As for terrorizing you, it wasn’t what I had in mind for us tonight.”
He reached out and touched one of the tiny nubs on Arthur’s chest, tracing a circle on it. The caress caused Arthur to gasp, an indecent zing of pleasure arrowing down to his groin.
“Thought so,” his captor said in satisfaction. “You long for the touch of a man, Mr. Finter. I’ll be that man for you tonight and ever after. We’re mates, you and me.”