Born of Air
Dragon Soul Series
Genre: Erotic Romance, M/M, Fantasy
Publisher: Carina Press
Date of Publication: 06/04/2018
Number of pages: 315
Word Count: 143,970
Meet the Beteferoce brothers: five dragon shifters, each with a strong elemental power. And each with a fierce desire to find his soul mate…
He said he was flying on a silver dragon. He called me “Markus-meine.” Who would know all that? Who? And how?
SWAT cop and dragon shifter Mark Beteferoce had—and lost—a soul mate. He’s finally at the point where he can get through the days without thinking about what used to be…until he tastes Quincy O’Brien’s doughnuts and takes him home to play.
Quincy O’Brien is a gifted baker, but at night he dreams of soaring through the sky on dragonback and being topped by the perfect Dom. Mark satisfies the kinky urges Quincy has only explored in his subconscious, pushing his limits and caring for him afterward.
From the start, their connection was more than sexual. It’s known; it’s familiar somehow. And it’s slowly driving Mark insane. What shouldn’t be possible most certainly is, and the bond between himself and Quincy runs deeper than either of them could ever have realized.
“We’re ready. Go
ahead and open for the day.” Quincy slid the last tray of doughnuts into the
case as his sister headed for the door, the smell of sugar thick on the air.
The Aerie Bakery
had been in business for four gen¬erations and it felt good every morning,
seeing the little line of people waiting for breakfast and coffee. Quincy felt
that this was what he’d been born to do. Kneading dough and feeding people came
as naturally as breath¬ing.
Barb warned him so he was braced for the first flood of customers. There was a line
today, as there was most mornings. The next hour was busy. Many of the
customers were regulars he and Barb knew well enough to ask about the latest
regarding work or family and friends. Maybe the chatter slowed the line down,
but only marginally and they more than made up for it with repeat customers who
really felt like they were valued, which they were. After the first hour, he
and Barb got a wee bit of a break, enough time for them to take a breather and
bring out the second round of trays.
“I think we’ll
be sold out by eleven, Quince.”
He nodded to
Barb. “I think you’re right.” That worked for him. He’d been working since
three a.m. to get things ready for the morning rush.
A couple of cops
came in, SWAT by the looks of their uniforms. One of them, Tom, was a regular
who came in for two dozen doughnuts almost every day. Not to be stereotyping or
anything, but the Halifax cops did love his doughnuts.
“I tell you,
Mark, you need to get laid,” Tom said, making his friend roll his eyes.
answer to everything.” Mark was huge: big, broad shoulders and a deep voice
that Quincy swore he felt in his belly.
There was no way
this guy had a problem getting laid.
He gave them a
smile. “It’s not a bad answer. Hey, Tom.”
It’s not a bad answer at all. It’s a great answer.” Tom chuckled and turned to
his friend. “Mark, this is Quincy—the baker of the most amazing dough¬nuts in
town. Quincy, this is Mark, he’s on the team.”
Mark nodded to
him. “Good to meet you. We do re¬ally like your doughnuts. They don’t last long
when¬ever Tom brings them in.” Eyes the color of a stormy sky took him in.
“I love to hear
that. You want two dozen assorted?”
“We do. And I’d
like a half dozen of the square ones with raisins in a separate box, please.”
“I am not. I
just know what I like.” Mark was look¬ing right at Quincy as he said it.
“That’s a great
quality in a man.”
About the Author:
Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to “Chicago.”
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He’ll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.