Blowing
Smoke
Sean
Michael
Genre: Gay, dragon shifter, BDSM * Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: August 1 2016 * ISBN: 978-1-945193-23-1
Word Count: 50000 * Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
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Book Description:
Do dragons have soul mates?
Brinley Adams is pleased to get a
job as assistant to elusive and reclusive billionaire Lindrom Drage. That the
job requires him to live in the man’s home in the country is only a bonus.
While he’s not exactly running away, he’s trying to leave behind a crazy,
stalking ex, and Drage’s isolated home might be just the place to hide.
Lindrom Drage, known at home as
Dragon, just wants an assistant who works out for longer than a month or two.
He’s already gone through several in the last year, and he wants someone who
can do the job and put up with his refusal to deal with anything that takes him
out of his home. But when he meets Brin, he suddenly wants so much more than
just a work assistant.
Brin doesn’t know his boss is
actually a dragon. The trick is going to be convincing Brin that neither of
them is crazy, and that not only are dragons real, so are soul mates.
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Excerpt:
Brinley
Adams looked at the huge wall, at the gate made to keep people out, and the
grounds which seemed to be like something from a fairy story—rows after rows of
red roses, with a path leading into the darkness, he assumed toward the
mansion. He’d spent a fortune on the taxi to get here, the place well out of town
with nothing around it for miles.
Oh,
man. He wasn’t ready for this. He’d thought he was. Hell, he’d researched
Dragon for weeks—the companies, the corporate takeovers, every single ounce of
information anyone had ever whispered online about the reclusive billionaire.
Aside from the public information about his business dealings, there was
surprisingly little to learn.
He’d
had five phone interviews, and three in-person interviews with the man’s
business managers. The final one with a sharp-eyed woman who’d made him sign a
non-disclosure agreement before she’d even interviewed him, then another, more
binding one, when she offered him the job.
Now
he was here. Shit. He swallowed hard and forced himself to take some deep
breaths. He finally gathered up the nerve to hit the button on the intercom.
There
was no answer for long enough that he was contemplating either pressing the
button again or just leaving altogether. He could start walking and see if it
got him back to civilization enough to find another taxi or a bus or something.
“What?”
The voice was impatient. Annoyed.
Brin
swallowed again, took another breath, and went for it. “Good afternoon. I’m
Brinley Adams, the new personal assistant. I was told to report here at one.”
It was ten till. Given he’d had no clue just how long it was going to take him
to get here, he thought he’d done well.
“You’re
early.” It came at him like an accusation.
“Yes,
Sir.” His father had always stressed punctuality as a virtue, both in business
and personal dealings. It was better to be ten minutes early than even a minute
late.
There
was a grunt, then, “How unusual. Show me your ID. Just hold it up to the camera
on your right.”
“Yes,
Sir.” Brin pulled his license out of his wallet and held it up. He looked good,
he knew he did. Professional, but classy. On trend, but not chic. Neat and in
no way a challenge. His driver’s license photo reflected that as well.
Another
grunt sounded, then a buzzer, the gate unlocking with a loud thunk. “Come
straight up to the house and make sure you shut the gate firmly behind you.”
“Yes,
Sir.”
He
grabbed his suitcase and his laptop bag. The rest of his things would come via
mail once he knew this was going to work out. It wasn’t like he had tons of
stuff. Four boxes. He’d pared down. It hade been made clear in his interviews
that room and board were included along with a generous salary and that he
would not need to bring a lot with him. The implication had in fact been that
the less he had to bring, the better.
Brin
slipped through the huge gate, then put down his bags and made sure to pull the
gate shut behind him. He had to pull hard as the gate was heavier than it
looked, which was a good trick as it looked pretty damn heavy. The lock latched
with an almost ominous sound. The path already seemed darker now that he was on
this side of the gate, too. He shook his head to dispel the doom and gloom
gathering around him—it was all in his head. He picked up his two bags again
and squared his shoulders.
This
was it.
Brin
took the path that ran next to the long driveway, the roses giving way to trees
that joined a couple feet above his head, making a ceiling of sorts, letting
the sunshine through in patches, enough to light the way but not enough to be
called bright. He was fascinated by the canopy formed by the branches, way
above his head. Wow. It was like... like a fortress.
Dragon—real
name Lindorm Drage—had the reputation for being a recluse. There were no
pictures of the man anywhere, and this whole driveway into darkness and covered
by a tree-roof just added to the mystery.
The
path curved slightly to the left and became overgrown, forcing him over onto
the road, which did not look particularly well-used in its own right. He looked
back, but the curve in the road had been enough to put the gate and the public
road beyond it out of sight. No sight of the house in front of him yet, either.
It increased the sensation of being in a fairy tale, and again he had to shake
off the notion. This was just an ill-used road and an overgrown forest, not
some scary path to a witch’s lair, and he wasn’t some innocent who should have
been leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind him. Although, he had to admit, the
lack of birdsong made him think that at least if he had left a breadcrumb
trail, it wouldn’t have been eaten.
He
kept going, his bags growing heavier as he walked and walked. He was soon glad
for the lack of sun and the cool breezes that danced in the shade of the tress,
keeping him from overheating.
The
road underfoot became untidier. He looked back again, startled to realize it
didn’t really seem like he was following any sort of path—there appeared to be
only trees and brush behind him, as if the overgrown road had become even more
so in the time that it had taken him to travel it. He faced forward, continuing
gamely on, though his steps were a touch more hesitant now. Just when he was
sure he must have slipped off the path altogether and was wandering aimlessly
through the forest, he came upon the house.
It
looked more like a castle than anything else, made from large stones with a
huge tower in the middle that rose a whole story higher than the rest of the
place. The front doors were a dark wood, banded with steel bars across it. He
was almost surprised that there was no drawbridge over a moat, but the place
lacked both. There were, however, two gargoyles guarding the front steps
leading up to the massive, and intimidating, door, and another gargoyle head
was the knocker. There was no bell.
Wow.
Was this place even real?
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About the Author:
Best-selling author Sean Michael is
a maple leaf–loving Canadian who spends hours hiding out in used bookstores.
With far more ideas than time, Sean keeps several documents open at all times.
From romance to fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi, Sean is limited only by the
need for sleep—and the periodic Beaver Tail.
Sean fantasizes about one day
retiring on a secluded island populated entirely by horseshoe crabs after
inventing a brain-to-computer dictation system. Until then, Sean will continue
to write the old-fashioned way.
Website: http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com/
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelWrites
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/SeanMichael09
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Tour giveaway:
3 winners to receive ebook of
Healing Fire by Sean Michael.
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