As all of you know, I want a blurb button in Microsoft Word. So, I thought I’d share with you the Sinner’s Gin blurb and a sneak peek of the book. Here’s hoping it gets picked up. Now on to Dirty Laundry *winks*.
There was a dead body in Miki St. John’s Pontiac GTO and he had no idea who put it there.
When Miki returned to San Francisco after a tragic car accident that killed his band members and left him injured, he’d planned to lick his wounds and wall himself up in the brick warehouse he’d purchased while on tour. He didn’t plan on someone killing the man who abused him as a child, dumping the remains in his vintage muscle car or for Kane Morgan, a rugged Irish SFPD Inspector, liking him for the murder.
Kane’s suspicions turn out to be unfounded but the danger to Miki’s safety escalates. Soon, the bodies begin piling up and the attraction between the former rock star and police detective heats up, threatening to consume them both. Can Kane keep Miki safe long enough to catch the killer or will the singer be the murderer’s final victim?
You act like I’m the only sinner you know.
And say I’m someone who sets your skin on fire.
But I know different, little girl.
I know other men who’d call you a liar.
— Empty Promises
The damned dog was back.
He never seemed to be there when Kane showed up to open his studio but it was like the dog had radar. He showed up solely to haunt the shop Kane leased from the art co-op.
But then so did the man who owned the damned thing. Well, at least he haunted Kane’s mind.
Something about the younger man tugged at Kane’s guts. His green-gold eyes were enormous with a faint slant to them, ringed black with heavy lashes and a heated challenge in them that gripped Kane by the balls and pulled. Fuck with me and I’ll tear you a new asshole, that hazel glare said, but the simmer did nothing to hide the anguish lingering there.
“And I know him from somewhere,” Kane swore to himself as he unpacked a set of chisels he’d gotten shipped to him. “Damned if I haven’t seen him before.”
He’d been too pretty to forget. Not a delicate face, Kane thought, but vulnerable and beautiful. Those high cheekbones and full lips had been nearly hidden beneath the man’s shoulder-length mane but when his long fingers pushed the dark brown strands out of the way, Kane had forgotten how to breathe. Now, Kane caught himself wondering how the man’s wide mouth would taste or if he could chase away the faint pain lines around the younger man’s lips.
The belligerent young man needed at least ten more pounds on him and the kanji characters inked on his upper arm were splotchy and uneven, more like an old prison tattoo than calligraphy. The tips of his fingers ghosted over the ink, obviously an old habit and the motion drew Kane’s attention to the man’s bared chest and the whorl of down around his flat belly button. The faint trail led down, disappearing under the younger man’s loosely tied cotton pants, the jut of hip bones barely holding the waistband in place.
“No, last thing I need is that kind of trouble,” He’d scolded his brain then found himself fretting about the faint blue cast around the man’s mouth and his shivering, half-naked body. The guy was definitely trouble and despite the lean muscles and long legs, much too skinny for Kane’s tastes. Too skinny and far too memorable.
The dog was still a menace and its presence was a constant reminder of the pale, pretty-faced man next door. Sitting right outside of the workshop’s rolling door, the mutt woofed and scratched and panted like a blond furry harbinger of doom.
It also reeked like it took a dive in the River Styx.
His focus shrunk down to the spinning block he’d set into lathe clamps and the small red-brown curls he coaxed from the wood. The sweet smell of the curled chips seduced him and Kane quickly lost touch with the rest of the world. He didn’t notice the chill biting through the air when the sun dropped behind a wall of clouds and he didn’t hear the dog’s ruffling snores as it chased something in its sprawling sleep.
When the cramping in his hands became too much to bear and a bead of sweat tickled his eyebrow, Kane finally pulled back from the burl and took his foot off of the pedal, letting the lathe spin down so he could inspect his work. Running his hand over the carved wood, Kane felt for uneven spots in the grain.
“Look at the cop doing some work.” A deep voice much like his own jerked Kane’s attention up. “Hey, where’d you get the dog and why’s he eating your lunch?”
Kane glanced at the corner of the studio where he’d last seen the terrier only to find it chewing on the remains of the ham sandwich Kane left on his work bench.
“Fucking dog,” Kane swore loudly.
“Nice,” Quinn drawled. “You kiss our mother with that damned mouth?”
“Sure I do. She likes me best. ‘Zup, Qbert?” Kane returned his younger brother’s broad grin. Flicking the lathe off, he began to shake off the curls covering his shirt and thighs. Nodding his head to the scruffy dog, Kane said with an ironic chuckle, “That’s not my dog. He’s from next door. So far, he’s stolen some koa, a screwdriver and now, my sandwich. Don’t leave your wallet out where he can get it.”
“Ever thought of… I don’t know, rolling the door down…to keep the dog out?”
“Yeah, it crossed my mind,” Kane drawled. “But I like the fresh air.”
A year separated them and the second and third Morgan boys spent much of their youth being mistaken for one another. Now older, subtle differences made it easier to tell them apart. Kane’s collar-length hair, the tiny scar cutting through Quinn’s right eyebrow from a Hot Wheels accident and the opposite-angled slight breaks in their noses gave their mother something to focus on when she needed to know who she was scolding.
Of all his siblings, Kane was closest to Quinn. They’d spent their boyhood years sharing a room until Connor moved out and Kane claimed the converted attic for his own. A few months later, Kane helped Quinn move his things into the long room since he spent more time in Quinn’s new room than he did in his own. The rest of the Morgan children spread out through the remainder of the rooms, quickly establishing their own territories in case their older brothers changed their minds.
It was Quinn who Kane called the night his wife left him and it was Kane that urged Quinn to come out of the closet he’d been hiding in. Quinn spoken his older brother Kane about his sexuality first, needing to find some footing in the emotional turmoil he was going through and Quinn merely nodded when Kane confessed he’d tried marriage to find himself. It was also Kane who helped him weather the storm that hit when Quinn told their traditional Irish Catholic family that he preferred men.
It was Kane who told their family he’d considered the occasional man as well and if the younger brother was to be damned for it, the older would be damned for it as well.
Quinn reached up and rattled the guide chains to the bay door over the dog’s head. The terrier ignored him to chew on a stray bread crust. “Mom wants to see your ugly face at the dinner table on Sunday. She’s a bit pissed off it’s been missing of late.”
“With you around, I’m surprised she can see past your ugly to miss mine.”
“Keep it up, brother mine, and I can take care of what little pretty you have left.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” Kane growled. “Sunday. Got it.”
“Doesn’t have a tag,” Quinn studied the dog again. “Want me to call Animal Control and ticket the owner?”
“Really?” Kane stopped cleaning the tips of his chisels and looked up at his younger brother. “I’m a cop. You think I need a history teacher to call in a stray dog?”
“Just saying, if the dog’s bugging you…”
“Yeah, I don’t need my baby brother to take care of it for me.” He put away the tools in a work cabinet and locked the doors. “You want some dinner or something? Or are you heading back to the college?”
“Let me check on something and we can meet up at Leong’s later,” Quinn said. Sliding his phone out from his jacket, he tapped the screen. “Unless that welding glove the mutt just took isn’t all that important.”
Kane turned in time to see the terrier trotting off with a long white glove he used while stacking rough woods. Taking a deep breath, he tilted his head back and exhaled slowly. “God, I hate that dog.”
“Leong’s then?” Quinn asked. “Half an hour?”
“I’ll either see you there or I’ll call you for bail,” Kane muttered. A quick twist of a key opened the gun safe where he’d put his badge and Glock. After holstering the gun onto his belt, he shrugged on his leather jacket, covering the weapon. “That guy’s got to do something about his mutt.”
“Offer to run it in still stands,” Quinn offered. “Or I could shoot it. I’ll have to borrow your gun though. I don’t have one.”
The younger Morgan chuckled at the poisonous look Kane shot at him. Shrugging, Quinn returned to his phone and stepped aside as his older brother closed and locked the rolling door.