Showing posts with label Jaime Reese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jaime Reese. Show all posts

Thursday, June 18, 2020

A Sweet Man

Title: A Sweet Man
Series: The Men of Halfway House
Author: Jaime Reese
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance (stand alone)
Release Date: June 16, 2020

Two men. One sweet dream of family and forever.

Gabriel "Bull" del Toro loves his fast-paced globe-trotting job, but aches for an honest relationship and the trust that comes with it. After a few too many heartbreaks, he’s nearly given up hope of finding that special someone. 
Until Ben.
Born deaf, Ben is used to working twice as hard for what he wants, but risking a newfound friendship on an impossible dream is scary. After all, there’s one lesson he’s learned: everything is temporary—freedom, friends, even family.
Neither man expects the undeniable spark between them or for every moment together to fuel that connection. For the first time, a happily ever after is within reach, but they must trust that the dream of acceptance, family, and a place to call home is more than a sweet fantasy. 
It can be forever.
------------
A Sweet Man is an interconnected standalone within The Men of Halfway House series. It is a story about the power of love, the meaning of family, and never giving up on a dream. It includes wounded hearts, an age-gap romance, and enough cake and sweetness to give you a toothache.


Chapter 1

Mid-January

Ben ran into the bedroom and swung the door shut. He leaned back against the door, gasping each breath while clutching the cell phone to his chest. Seconds. It was all he had before that bastard came barging in to take what he wanted.
Pushing off the door, he leapt over his still packed duffle bag sitting on the floor and wedged his body in the narrow space behind the bed. He grabbed the edge of the bed frame and pushed.
Damn bed wasn’t moving.
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, finally shoving the bed on its rusty wheels across the carpeted floor. With the bed bumped up against the door, he had a moment of reprieve to take a deep breath.
His eyes burned as he stared at the door and a memory flashed in his mind.
Once his parole had been granted, Sam had asked him to make a simple decision: Halfway House or this place.
Another stupid decision made.
He glanced around the room—at the peeling paint, dirty carpet, and iron bars on the windows. This place wasn’t Halfway House. Both houses were in Miami-Dade County and about an hour apart, but there was a world of distance between them.
Climbing onto the mattress, he knee-walked toward the foot of the bed. Carefully, he inched closer and flattened his hand against the worn faux wood. One pounding thump against the door vibrated against his palm.
Then another and another, each harder than the one before.
He gasped when the mattress shook beneath his knees.
A punch from Jake would cause some damage—he had a pulsing black eye to prove that.
He pulled his hand away. Even though he couldn’t hear it, he imagined each strike came with an accompanying yell. Maybe even a curse. Or two. He crab-walked backward, away from the door now visibly moving with each strike.
He retreated to the wall, keeping his eyes trained on the single point of entry in front of him. First day at the new halfway house and he already had to deal with bullies.
If he were at HH, things would be so different. The house owners would never allow violence under their roof. Julian would have swooped in like some super ninja and caught Jake’s fist midair.
Ben leaned back against the wall and slid down until his ass hit the dirty carpeted floor. He tightened his grip on the cell phone in his hand. The punch to the face had been a small price to pay if he still had his phone.
Correction… His lifeline.
Now he realized why Sam had to gain special permission for him to have one. Every place had different rules and having a cell phone was a violation of this house’s rules. That detail hadn’t clicked until two other residents had practically salivated at the sight of his phone when he had pulled it out from his back pocket to view the incoming text message. Like a pack of wolves, another resident had joined in. In true alpha form, Jake had pushed the three of them aside and taken the lead, delivering a punch to the side of Ben’s face that had shoved him to the ground.
They had expected him to quiver, give in, huddle into a ball or surrender his phone. They hadn’t counted on him tightening the grip on his lifeline or his speedy escape.
He banged his head back against the wall.
Bump, bump, bump.
He was tired of life kicking him in the nuts.
Tired of second-guessing every damn thing he did.
Tired of how he kept making the wrong decisions.
Five years ago, he had trusted the wrong people. Friends had used him as a scapegoat and that had resulted in a grand theft charge. The judge had shown him mercy during sentencing, splitting his time—twelve months in jail and four years on probation.
With the jail time completed, he had ended up at Halfway House while transitioning into his probation term. He had been on the right path afterward for almost two years. He had reconnected with his sister and had moved in with her. He had secured a steady job, working with Shaw. 
Until the day he had gotten into a friend’s car during his lunch break.
He hadn’t known the car was stolen. He couldn’t have guessed that one choice would have resulted in a probation violation that would send him to a state prison to complete the remaining two years of his sentence.  
He screwed his eyes shut, instantly wincing at the pain of his swelling eye.
He missed Julian and his partner, Matt. He missed Ryan and Shaw, the friends he had made during his stay at Halfway House. But he was too embarrassed to see any of them. Regardless of how many times he had analyzed the situation in his mind, it was his bad decision that had landed him in prison.
He wrapped his arms around his midsection. Times like these, he sought the comfort of his plush bunny. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but the worn plush rabbit was stuffed with family memories. Frayed and patched together like the sole survivor of a zombie experiment, the plush toy was likely lost, just like he felt. Or maybe someone had found it and discarded it with a cringe at its horror-movie-like appearance. It wouldn’t surprise him.
Everything was temporary.
His parents, the few people he thought were friends while growing up. The revolving door of families over the years.
His relationship with his sister.
He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, fighting back the tears. She had warned him to stay out of trouble. He hadn’t even had a chance to apologize to her before getting hauled away. He had burned that bridge. More like annihilated it with C4 for good measure.
After that, nothing had mattered. He didn’t care to see anyone else, even though Shaw had tried to visit him several times.
The sting in his eyes reappeared. He needed to look ahead and deal with this current situation. He shouldn’t have resisted Sam’s insistence on returning to Halfway House. But the thought of seeing the disappointment in Julian’s pale green eyes, or his partner’s sad smile, tore through Ben’s heart. He couldn’t risk disillusioning every person who might care. Matt would take Ben’s failure personally. And Julian would console his partner and share that pain.
He couldn’t do that to them.
The phone in his hand vibrated, pulling him from his thoughts. He swiped at the screen, blinking a few times. His heartbeat quickened as panic set in. His vision was a little fuzzy. Dammit. The black eye was going to be a problem. He needed the clarity. Otherwise, he’d have trouble reading text messages and other people’s lips. He pulled the phone closer and farther away, hoping to pinpoint a spot in his line of sight that would make the display clearer to read the new text message.
You didn’t respond. You ALWAYS respond. I’m on my way.
The knot in his chest lessened reading Sam’s words. His reintegration officer hadn’t given up on him after dropping him off at this nightmare of a house a few hours ago. He glanced up at the door when the bed shifted. Jake was pissed—pissed enough to hit the door hard enough to move the bed on the carpet.
He had to get out of here. Now.
He quickly texted a reply. I can’t stay here. His attention snapped up when the bed shifted again. He kicked out his feet and pushed them against the bed frame, hoping to add some additional resistance until Jake tired himself out. Please hurry, he wrote in another text before Sam had a chance to respond.
Life hadn’t been kind, but he managed the best he could, always trying to find the good in others.
But the people outside that door, in this place…there was no good here to find.
Ben closed his eyes and held his phone close to his chest, willing Sam to respond. He gasped when the phone vibrated moments later. He blinked a few times, focusing his vision, and releasing a shaky breath at Sam’s reply.
I’ll be there soon. I called Aidan. He’s on his way.
Ben’s shoulders slumped. Relief or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. He battled with the nagging tug in the back of his mind, worried about seeing the detective again, the one who had taken the time to help Ben reconnect with his sister after so many years.
But he’d take the embarrassment. Aidan was the only man who could likely stop Jake with a simple glare, and make a few phone calls to push Sam’s request through the system to move Ben elsewhere. Right now, he’d take the rescue any way he could get it. Welcomed it with open arms, even if he needed to beg or subject himself to a reprimanding lecture.
He wouldn’t survive here.
They would eventually take his phone and wouldn’t care about the damage they left in their wake. A black eye could easily lead to a broken arm or hand if he continued to resist. Without his phone or use of his hands, he wouldn’t be able to communicate in the hearing world. 
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. 
After leaving his childhood home, there had only been one place where he had felt safe.
Right now, that was exactly where he needed to be.
He just hoped Sam arrived in time to take him there.
Jaime Reese is the alter ego of an artist who loves the creative process of writing, just not about herself. Fiction is far more interesting. She has a weakness for broken, misunderstood heroes and feels everyone deserves a chance at love and life. An avid fan of a happy ending, she believes those endings acquired with a little difficulty are more cherished.


HOSTED BY:

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

A Chosen Man



Title: A Chosen Man
Series: The Men of Halfway House Series
Author: Jaime Reese
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance
(can be read as standalone)
Release Date: September 26, 2018
Photographer: Eric McKinney of 6:12 Photography


For Wall McCormack, actions speak louder than words. He’s giving and protective, loyal to his friends, and devoted to his job. While confident and powerful enough to conquer any challenge, his greatest strength lies in his calm nature. Until an unexpected assignment sends his world into a loud and colorful chaos he never could have anticipated.

Rejection. It’s something Dylan Vaughn has known his entire life. But he’s a tough nut to crack and refuses to break. Armed with a sharp tongue and brutal honesty, he pushes through life and at anyone who attempts to take him on. Except for the quiet guardian who piques his interest and dares him to want…more.

When Dylan’s past comes back with a vengeance and jeopardizes their growing connection, Wall will stop at nothing to protect the younger man and remain by his side. But convincing Dylan that someone accepts the real man behind the cocky facade might prove to be Wall’s greatest challenge yet.

With his freedom on the line, Dylan must trust the strength of their bond and confront the forces threatening their future. Only then will he realize the dream of acceptance is real and finally have a place to call home.








“You have other skills.”
“I doubt being bratty and having a smart mouth are next on the list of desired skills.”
“Why do you consider those two of your most glowing qualities?”
Dylan looked up. “Huh?”
“You mention them after your computer skills. So they are the traits you associate with yourself the most. Why is that?”
“Um…” Is that a trick question? “Because I have a smart mouth and most people say I’m bratty.” He should add snark and sarcasm as additional languages. Maybe that would beef up his resume.
“I’m not arguing that point,” Matt said with a ghost of a smile. “But it’s obvious you do it with a bit of…spite. So I’m wondering if it’s truly part of your nature or if you do it only because people expect you to.”
Dylan shrugged, not really liking the serious shift in the conversation. He didn’t know how to do this emotional chitchat crap, and Matt was in a sensitive state of mind after everything that had happened. He returned his attention to the book and flicked the edge of the pages against his fingertip, trying to busy himself.
“You’re not alone, Dylan.”
Dylan slammed his book shut. “Try telling that to all the nonexistent people standing around me.” He bit back his usual defensiveness. He saw something flash in Matt’s expression, but couldn’t peg exactly what it was. But he guessed Matt wanted to be his savior. Maybe it was his nature, and Dylan was probably wrong considering his track record with people, but he couldn’t help the feeling tugging at the back of his mind that this determination stemmed from what had happened to the other guys. “You didn’t fail, Matt.”
“What?”
“With the guys. The knife in the room. That wasn’t your failure. It was their choice.”
Matt frowned and ducked his head. He set his glass of lemonade on the ground beside the bench and clasped his hands together, taking a deep breath. “I could have guided them better.” Matt winced, probably realizing he had voiced that thought. “Robbie was at his father’s house for the weekend. Neil told the police that Robbie had mentioned his father would hit him when drunk. The knife was for protection. I should have—”
“Stop it,” Dylan said, with a little more force than he had intended. “How were you supposed to know something Neil told the police after the fact? Robbie didn’t share it with you, he shared it with Neil, and unless you’re a psychic, how the hell were you supposed to know that was happening?” Dylan shook his head. His people-meter might suck, but his logic-detector was fully functional. “You’re just like Sam. Not everyone wants to be saved. That’s a tough pill to swallow, but it’s part of life.”
Matt cocked his head. “Is that your story?”
“I don’t need saving.”
“No, you don’t. You’re obviously resilient as hell.” Matt turned on the bench seat to face him. “But don’t plan your future because of things in your past. Learn from them and consider them life lessons.”
“You should listen to your own wisdom. Don’t beat yourself up because the guys screwed up. That’s on them, not you. Consider it…a life lesson,” Dylan finished with a flourish of his hand and a raised eyebrow. “You offer more help than most, and if people don’t want to take it, then it’s on them.”
“Touché,” Matt said with a shake of his head and a hint of a smile.
“See? Told ya. I’m bratty with a smart mouth. Top of the list of my marketable skills. Tons of companies are going to beat down your door to hire me.”


Jaime Reese is the alter ego of an artist who loves the creative process of writing, just not about herself. Fiction is far more interesting. She has a weakness for broken, misunderstood heroes and feels everyone deserves a chance at love and life. An avid fan of a happy ending, she believes those endings acquired with a little difficulty are more cherished.




HOSTED BY: