Kia Ora...

The search for a rental is continuing...it's also frustrating. There are more people wanting rental properties than there are properties available.and then the forms they want you to fill out... it's far easier to buy a house. But hopefully we'll manage to secure one soon as I'm eager to get my office set back up and have all my books to hand. Also my daughter will finish semester one of uni in June so she might need a bed to sleep by then.

Updates

Naomi Aoki

• No current wips.

Mandy Greenwood

• I have finished the rewrite of A Baby for Albie (Silverdale City 2). It still needs to have the formatting finalised, but I've chosen to leave that until I've finished with book 3, Love You Forever, Drayce, which I have already started the revisions of.
• I have an anthology piece to write under this name and will share more details about it closer to it being finished.
• I have already started thinking ahead to Bishops (Crime Lords 5) and where the story line will be heading.

MJ Green

• Love Unpicked (House of Bolton 6) has passed 25k words and Connor has uttered/composed two pieces of poetry... The only problem with having a mafia poet is that I have to write it. I haven't written poetry since I took creative writing papers at university. There will be a spin off novella for this book as two secondary characters are pretty much begging for a book.
• Defrocked (House of Bolton Novella) is 600 words off the 10k word point and the story has finally discovered a little bit of plot. So far, it is a lot of Killian (Father McDonald) spending time on his knees...and not for prayer.
• I have two anthology pieces to be written under this name, though one piece isn't due until next year--phew--so I have a bit more time to figure out the relationship dynamics between the characters.
• I have also updated the logo for MJ Green. The first one was only ever meant to be temporary and knocked together in a rush. As you will see, the new one is much brighter!

Meet the Characters

If you're a member of my readers group, Greenwood's Groupies, then you'll have already been introduced to the two main characters from Defrocked (House of Bolton Novella)...and will have read a few excerpts from their book too. But for those who haven't... then let me introduce Nicoli Beltrame, and Father Killian McDonald.

Bookfunnel Promos

• Monthly Menage Promo
• Asian, Asian-American, and Pacific Islander Awareness Month
• Unveiling the Forbidden - Bad Boy Romance
• MM Romance Childhood Friends Promo - Weekend Only

Chapter Fifteen

Mike’s anxiety hadn’t disappeared entirely. It wasn’t the overwhelming, chest crushing, and panic-freezing that had reared its head when Jordan pulled into their garage, but he was still off-balance. Hated too, this unsettled feeling when this house was something he’d been proud of once. A place that he and Jordan had chosen for themselves, and Mike had insisted on having the kitchen remodeled to suit his tastes. And he knew that his current feelings toward this place were understandable…but that still didn’t mean he had to like it.

He gripped Jordan’s hand a little tighter as they walked into the kitchen, his breath hitching at the sight of his beloved countertops. The black marble had been hard to source, Mike wanting it to be shot through with something other than white quartz. Mike released Jordan’s hand and walked further into the kitchen, his fingers running of the top of the countertop while his gaze took in everything sitting on top of it. Every appliance they’d bought…that they’d argued over the benefit of having—did they need a two-slice toaster or a four-slice one, and did they need a fancy coffee maker or one that took pods?—still sat in the exact same place as when Mike had walked out.

Pausing in front of the pantry, Mike glanced over at Jordan and smiled. “So, if I open this will there actually be anything edible inside?” His hands gripping the doors, hesitant to throw them open.

Jordan snorted and leaned against the breakfast bar where they’d eaten most of their meals as they rushed between home and practice. “Define edible.”

“Okay… maybe I need to rephrase that question.” His hands still trembled while a smile had slipped onto his face and showed no sign of disappearing. “Is there anything in this pantry that could be called healthy or nutritious?”

“Yeah… probably not.” Jordan laughed.

Mike arched an eyebrow and shook his head. None of that really surprised him knowing Jordan wasn’t the most competent of people in the kitchen. And even if Jordan had learnt to cook more than he’d been capable of in the past, creating a meal for one person was never easy…hard to maintain the motivation to do so. He could understand that too having resorted to the same eating habits he’d reprimanded Jordan for during the last two years. The difference now, of course, was that Jordan was a pro-athlete and needed to eat accordingly while Mike was nothing more than a washed up has-been who didn’t to worry about his diet any longer.

He opened the pantry and blinked hard as he stared at the shelves, his lips moving around words while no sound came out. Mike wasn’t sure what to say. A few expletives came to mind, along with a demand that they head to the supermarket before he cooked anything for dinner. Hell, he was afraid to check the fridge and freezer, worried that their contents weren’t going to be any different despite Jordan’s early assurances.

“Jordan… I thought you said you’d gone grocery shopping?” Mike released his grip on the pantry doors and picked up one of the cans sitting on the shelves. He blew the dust off that had accumulated on it before attempting to read the faded label. “Like in the last few days… not in the last two years.” Because seriously, Mike would put good odds on everything in the pantry having come from the last grocery shop he’d done…two weeks before he’d walked out.

Jordan smiled at him, but it wasn’t one of those happy ones that could fill a dark room with a brightness that could rival the sun. This one was softer, smaller, and tinged with a sadness that made Mike’s heart twinge. “I haven’t touched anything in the pantry for the last two years,” he finally admitted, pushing off the benchtop and walking past Mike to reach the cupboards closest to the oven. “Anything new gets put in here.” Jordan opened the double-door cupboard that had once housed Mike’s favourite cooking pans to reveal its haphazardly organised contents.

Mike sighed and closed the pantry doors; its contents would need to be disposed of later. He scrubbed at his jaw and stared at the contents in the new cupboard and tried to work out what Jordan had been subsisting on for the last two years. Definitely lots of tinned foods—fish, beans, fruit—and bags of par-boiled rice by the looks of it. None of it what Mike would’ve recommended Jordan eat…and he imagined if the team’s nutritionist saw this, he wouldn’t be very happy either what with the poor carb to protein ration Jordan’s diet.

“This is barely more edible than what was left ignored in the pantry.” Mike closed the cupboard not needing to see anymore. “And I must admit, I’m beginning to fear what I might find in the fridge or freezer. Are the contents going to walk out under their own steam?”

“No. Definitely not,” Jordan said adamantly. “Not even I could live with a fridge that looked like some weird ecology experiment. Both the fridge and freezer have been stocked recently.”

He shook his head in disbelief and walked the two steps it took to reach the fried. Mike yanked the door open and couldn’t hide his glee at finding the contents just as Jordan described. The freezer revealed the same level of rewards with several roasts, a selection of other red meat cuts, and fish, plus a variety of frozen veges and desserts.

“Where’s the white meat?” Mike asked closing the freezer and turning back to Jordan, a teasing smile on his lips.

“There’s white meat,” Jordan said with a pout. “I bought fish.”

“Yeah, no. You bought salmon and tuna… they aren’t exactly white meat. But there’s no chicken or pork.”

Jordan’s shoulders slumped and Mike chuckled. “Just be thankful it’s not all ready-meals and processed meats,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, true.” Mike spun back to the fridge and pulled out the salmon fillets that Jordan had left aside in the fridge. Salmon had always been Jordan’s favourite food regardless of how Mike chose to cook it. “Now… bake or fry?” he asked placing the fillets on the bench next to the oven.

“Bake.” Jordan replied with a massive grin. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had salmon that wasn’t stuck on top of a finger-bite sized pile of rice.”

Mike shook his head and crouched down to reach into a cupboard, grabbing out a baking dish to cook the salmon in. His knee protested the movement, but not enough to send him scurrying for painkillers… liked it even less when he pivoted without standing up and grabbed out the baking paper along with a bottle of oil from the cupboard directly behind him.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed softly, his voice infused with heat. “Did you have to do that?”

“Do what?” Mike asked, grabbing the edge of the bench as he slowly straightened up, a wince not too far from his lips.

“Crouch down like that in front of me,” Jordan muttered, scrubbing at his face and yet it did nothing to hide the pinking of his skin.

“And why’s that, Jordan,” he asked, closing the distance between them and caging Jordan against the bench.

Jordan dropped his hands and released a slow frustrated breath. “Because it makes me remember things… makes me think of dirty things.”

“Dirty things?” Mike tipped his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I guess we did some downright filthy things at times… risky too,” he said while remembering the time he’d blown Jordan in the dugout after practice.

“And I always loved these”—his hands drifting over back of Mike’s thighs before sliding around to grab a handful of his arse, “Your thick muscular thighs… your tight round arse… and nothing displayed them better than you were crouched behind home plate.”

Mike groaned as Jordan pulled him closer, their hips pressed together and their cocks hardening. His body trembled as arousal surged through it again, familiar, and overwhelming. Mike clutched at Jordan, his fingers digging into his husband’s waist, head buried in the crook of his neck while Mike’s breath came in ragged gasps. Not quite a panic attack… but somewhere caught between the desire to keep this going and needing to call a stop. Two years… it had only been two years since he’d held Jordan like this, and yet it felt so much longer. Mike hadn’t realised how starved he was for it, the intimacy of this connection…just being with Jordan full stop. His decision to disappear had robbed him of so much…robbed Jordan too, and it still surprised him at how willing his husband was to forgive him. Mike could barely forgive himself, that’s why he’d drowned all his hurt and guilt under an ocean’s worth of booze.

Jordan pressed a kiss to the side of Mike’s head and rested his hands on Mikes chest, palms flat as Jordan gently pushed them apart. “It’d be so easy to fuck you right now… to lead you by the hand to our bed, lay you out on it and show you how much I love you…” his voice trailing off as he took a deep breath.

“But it’s too soon,” Mike replied, finishing the sentence. As much as it hurt to have Jordan push him away, Mike knew he wasn’t in the right mental space to resume the physical part of their relationship. Cuddling, kisses… those he could handle, but anything more would have to wait.

“Yeah, it is.”

Mike smiled, squeezed Jordan’s waist, and then pressed a chaste kiss to his husband’s lips before stepping away from the temptation that Jordan was. “I should cook dinner then.”

“Yeah… that’d be great.” Both of them chuckling as Jordan’s stomach rumbled in agreement.

*****

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