Friday, 8 May 2015

Release day for Angela Castle's KEEPING KATIE.

We would like to welcome Angela Castle to BDP. Angela is the multi-published author of many works, including the Warriors of Kelon series. Today marks the re-release of her book Keeping Katie.

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Summer in London has never been this hot, and it’s getting hotter with Jack Cullen and Jordan MaKensy taking their relationship to the next level. They’ve found their perfect home, or at least it will be when Jordan finishes the renovations, but there’s one more thing that would make their dreams come true: Jordan wants a family. It’s doable—they’re not strictly gay, adoring women as much as they do each other—but Jack worries they may not be able to find the right kind of woman to share their dreams.

Aussie girl Katie Weston has come to live in London with her only remaining relatives to make a new life for herself. Keen to earn her keep, Katie takes on two jobs. What she doesn’t count on, though, is meeting not one but two gorgeous and intriguing men. Jack and Jordan sweep her into a world of sensual pleasure that only two men can provide. Yet, despite how they make her feel, she resists their attempts to win her heart.

Enjoy this excerpt from Keeping Katie:

THE THRILL and excitement of getting to fuck Jordan hadn’t diminished in the slightest since they had found each other more than six months ago. Jack fondly remembered when they first met. He had been woken early on a Saturday morning by a loud banging, followed by the high-pitched squeal of some kind of electrical equipment coming through the walls of his flat. Jack stormed out of his building in search of the noisemaker, ready to verbally flatten them. Outside the long hours at the firm, he reserved weekends for himself.

“Oh, good morning, Jack.” Jack froze, seeing his elderly neighbour standing outside her door in a floral pink dressing gown, her white hair still up in yellow curlers. Jack wasn’t about to yell at her; she’d been nothing but nice to him ever since he had moved in three months ago.

“Having some repairs done, Mrs. Maldon?” he asked, realising he was standing in the street with just boxers and a T-shirt on. It was freezing, and Jack shuddered.

“Nice look,” a voice said, behind him. Jack spun around, looking into a pair of handsome hazel eyes that matched the speaker’s handsome boyish face. His light-brown hair was cut in a haphazard choppy style. He stood a few inches shorter than Jack, who was six two. The stranger had the build of someone who worked out regularly, his hard, defined muscles showing though the tight knit polo work shirt. Embroidered across his right chest was the name Makensy Restorations.

Amusement sparkled in the man’s hazel eyes. Despite the cold, Jack felt his temperature rise along with his cock. The hazel eyes glanced down, taking note of the tent in Jack’s boxers. Jack’s erection hadn’t escaped his notice. Fuck! A sexy smile lit the handsome face, making him harden even more.

“Be careful. Some tools can get you arrested,” he said with a wink before walking around Jack. He was carrying a large toolbox in one hand and several bathroom tiles in the other. It afforded Jack a look at his tight arse covered in dark-blue denim jeans. Jack licked his lips. He wanted a piece of that.

“Come on in, Jack, have a cup of coffee. My son always likes his coffee when he comes over to visit,” Mrs. Maldon said.

“Give me a moment, Mrs. Maldon, I’ll make myself decent.” Jack was never one to miss an opportunity.

He raced back inside and pulled on a longer-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that would help hide his hard-on.

Mrs. Maldon’s flat was cluttered with ornamental figurines and more photos than a photo exhibit. Jack knew the people in the photos were her extensively large family. Mrs. Maldon seemed to be some kind of Maldon family matriarch.

He sat in the kitchen as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

“My boy Clint likes this stuff. I keep it for when he visits. He’s living in America you know.” Jack was half listening as she chattered on.

“Mr. Makensy. Come have a cup of tea, love.” The handsome handyman reappeared from the bathroom. There was a slight smile on his face as he glanced at Jack.

“Almost finished. Those tiles were hard to match, but I found a place near Brentford, who stock a great range,” he told her, taking a seat directly opposite Jack at the kitchen table.

“Jack Cullen, this is Jordan Makensy, one of the best restorers in London. One of my boys recommended him. He’s fixing up my bathroom. I have a heap of tiles that keep coming loose,” Mrs. Maldon explained.

“That’s what all the noise was then,” Jack said, leaning over the table to shake Jordan’s hand. Jordan mimicked his move and placed his hand into his. He liked the feel of Jordan’s warm hand. Jack definitely wanted to feel other things of Jordan’s. By the look Jordan was giving him, so did he. Jack let go of Jordan’s hand and sat back down.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Have you got anything that needs fixing?” Jordan asked, his tone suggestive if somewhat shy.

“I just may have. You could come over when you’re finished here and have a look.”
Jordan’s shy smile sent more blood rushing south.

Hastily drinking his tea, Jordan went back to fixing Mrs. Maldon’s bathroom tiles. Jack thanked Mrs. Maldon before he headed back to his flat. He wondered how long Jordan would take to finish, and if he really would come over.

An hour later Jack was sitting on the sofa with his laptop, finishing some legal notes, when a knock sounded at the door.

Jordan stood with his hands in his pockets looking somewhat apprehensive. Jack opened the door wide to invite him in.

“I know you don’t need anything fixed.” Jordan raised his hazel eyes to meet Jack’s dark-brown ones. Jordan took several steps inside the hallway and paused. Jordan’s shy apprehension made Jack want him all the more.

“That depends on the perspective.” Jack said closing the door. He leaned on it to sweep an appreciative gaze over Jordan, enjoying his boyish good looks.

“I don’t do one night stands,” Jordan blurted out. Jack smiled. He really was too beautiful.

“Neither do I.”

“I’m not gay.”

Jack pushed off the door, stepping forward to run his hand up the hard muscle of Jordan’s arm. Jack felt him tremble at his touch. “Neither am I.” He curled his hand around the back of Jordan’s neck to tug him forward. Jordan didn’t resist.

“I mean. I really like women, a lot.”

“So do I.” Jack saw Jordan was just as turned on by him as he was by Jordan. There was an irresistible pull between them, which neither could deny. Jack’s mouth came down on Jordan’s; their tongues met, both battling to be in control. Jack groaned at the perfection of his taste.

Their first time together had been frantic, standing in the hall entranceway of his flat. Clothes were hastily tugged off. Jack felt like a fumbling teenager. He wanted to touch Jordan’s beautiful solid body everywhere at once. Jordan was breathing hard and his body trembled. When Jack reached for Jordan’s cock, Jordan came all over his fingers. Jack laughed as Jordan looked mortified.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” Jordan gasped.

Jack tugged him closer and whispered into his ear, “Oh god, baby, you’re so hot.” Jack grabbed Jordan’s hand, placing it on his cock and came himself.

It seemed from that moment on Jack couldn’t seem to get enough of Jordan’s body, cock, arse, or his playful, bright character. After a few weeks of Jordan spending most his time at Jack’s place, he had invited Jordan to live with him. Neither of them had looked back since.
Jordan had shared his visions with Jack: aspirations that included having a home and family of his own.

“You know we would need a woman for that.”

“I know. We just need to find someone who can love us both for who we are.” A hopeful expression crossed Jordan’s face. Jack knew finding an accepting women would be slim to none. But Jack wanted to see Jordan happy, and Jordan’s dream sounded pretty damn good to him also.

“We’ll find her.” Jack wanted to share Jordan’s optimism. Experience had taught him some hard lessons in life. Hope wasn’t always a good thing to believe in. But for once he prayed he was wrong.

Angela Castle © 2015

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