Hump Day Humps – Oh! Hoaley Night!


Sometimes going home is clarifying. Sometimes it’s just plain deadly!

Adam travels to Candlelight, Indiana to visit his parents for Christmas. When he arrives he discovers somebody has killed a man and dumped him in the manger of the living crèche at the local church. Unfortunately, all signs lead back to Adam’s father as the murderer. A Sheriff with a grudge and a small town more interested in gossip than reality, convince Adam that it will be up to him and the gang to clear his father’s name.

Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble
Hoaley Ill-Manored
Hoaley Inexplicable

* * *

Adam yelled through the bathroom door, “What are you doing in there?”

“You’ll see.”

He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, waiting for his chance at the sink. Dirk had been in there a suspiciously long time.

Walter’s snoring wafted through the room, originating from the jumbled comforter on the bottom bunk. It looked like Adam and Dirk would have to share the top bunk again.

His cock jumped at the thought.

The door opened and Adam pushed away from the wall. “Finally—” His words caught in his throat at the sight standing before him. Dirk was wearing his robes from the living crèche event. But the front of the robe was nicely tented, the neckline open and a wide expanse of smooth, golden skin showing beneath it.

Dirk’s sexy green gaze sparkled, the full, pouty mouth widening in a smile as Adam’s boxers bulged from the sight. “I had a little trouble getting the beard on right. Usually Camille, my makeup girl does it for me.”

Adam swallowed hard. “The beard?” Adam’s gaze lifted to Dirk’s face. “Oh yeah, that bushy brown thing on your face. I barely noticed.”

Dirk’s chuckle was deep and husky, filled with heat. “How do you think it will feel on your balls?”

Adam made a soft sound of need in his throat. “Suddenly I’m looking at the beard in a whole new light.”

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Hoaley Ill-Manored

Book 2: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Book 2: Hoale Construction Mysteries

A 200 year old manor house, a questionable death, and a cache of stolen jewelry. Who will kill to keep their secrets?

The gang flips a 200 year old manor house in the beautiful, rolling hills of Brown County, Indiana. Unfortunately the house is the site of a suicide, the result of a broken romance, and is rumored to be haunted. Adam and Maddy get caught up in the story of the young couple who were torn apart by family, local events, and something sinister that still seems to be stalking the house. It might not be a ghost, but whatever it is, it has the potential to be deadly.


“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight, honey?”

Adam dropped his sleeping bag over the camping cot he’d brought with him and nodded. “We’ve got the bathroom working and I have a refrigerator with beer in it…” he pointed to a small fridge he’d plugged into the wall, “…and Walter’s bed. What more could I need.”

Maddy swatted at a mosquito and grimaced, wiping the bloody results on her jeans. “I don’t know, mosquito netting, air conditioning, a four-poster bed with foam topping…”

“Don’t be a priss, Mads. If you had any hair on your chest at all you’d stay here with me.”

She snorted. “I’ll let you lay claim to the soft curlies on your chest. I’ll console myself with my comfy bed and fifty-two inch flat screen TV.”

Adam grimaced at that. “Hurt me. I have my entertainment too.” He held up his iPad.

Maddy kissed him on the cheek and started toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning partner. Don’t let the air bugs bite.”


Walter started out the door with Maddy. “No you don’t, Walter. You have to stay with me.” The big dog whined, dropped to his butt on the dusty floor, and stared longingly after Maddy. “Sorry, buddy. We’re a team, you and me. You go where I go…never leave a man behind…all for one, one for all…that kind of thing.” Walter dropped to his belly with a groan and stared at Adam, accusation running deep in his big, brown eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re a dog. You have your bed, your favorite rawhide, and the great outdoors to poop and pee in. You won’t even miss the fifty-two inch TV.” Adam’s gaze slid to the door Maddy had just gone through. “Or the bug free comfort of your bed. Or a big, fat, juicy steak…” Adam snapped his mouth shut and pushed the thought of food away before it weakened him. He would go into the nearby town of Ashville, Indiana for dinner later. But first, he and Walter would take a walk down to the lake. That is, if Mike and Sue would let them.

The Phantom of the Opera started playing behind him and Adam sucked in a breath, trying to decide if he wanted to answer it. It was Dirk. They were currently not speaking. Well, if Adam answered the phone they would in reality be speaking. But Adam determined he wouldn’t enjoy it.

Dirk was the biggest reason Adam was hiding out at the Bilsworth flip. He didn’t admit that to himself but deep down he knew it was true. They’d been doing so well for weeks, and then Dirk had returned to California to tape his latest film, Dance of the Copper Goddess, a fantasy about a king who pushed everyone away he cared for because he thought loving only one person would limit the potential of his life.

Adam thought Dirk might have immersed himself just a little too deeply into that role. With a sigh, he rummaged around until he found his cell under the pillow he’d carelessly thrown on top of the cot. “Hello.”

“Hey, Ads.”

Dirk’s familiar voice made Adam’s throat tighten with sudden need. He’d fought that need for weeks, trying to convince himself he didn’t need Dirk Williams to survive. Until that moment he’d actually believed he was making progress. “Hi.”

“It’s really good to hear your voice, babe. I’ve missed you.”

Adam dropped onto the cot, fighting to keep the angry tremor from his voice. “Really? I’m surprised.”

The short beat of silence told Adam Dirk hadn’t been expecting his anger. He really didn’t understand why, the last time they’d spoken they’d had a huge fight over the man Dirk had been spending way too much time with in Los Angeles.

Franklin Spence was a Hollywood producer. He was also openly gay. Dirk had been attending a lot of parties with the man and, if the news clips Adam had seen were accurate, weekends at Spence’s mountainside ranch and at a certain oceanside hideaway in the Cayman Islands.

“What does that mean? I always miss you.”

“Yeah. You told me that. Once. Is there something you need, Dirk?” As soon as the words left his mouth Adam cringed. He should never give his ex-lover an opening like that. Because Dirk would invariably come back with something that would wrench Adam’s heart right out of his chest.

“I need you, Ads.” And there it was.

“I wish I could believe that. Unfortunately I don’t. I told you I need a break from us, Dirk. I meant it. Please don’t call me again.”

“Where are you?”

“That’s not important.” Adam disconnected the call and threw his phone onto the cot, suddenly filled with nervous energy. He knew a quiet walk around the property was exactly what he didn’t need at that moment. More time to think was a bad thing. “Change in plans, Walter. Let’s go into town and see what kind of dinner we can scare up.”

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Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble

Hoaley Inexplicable



Hump Day Humps – SIZZLED!

SizzledCoverFinalWarning! SIZZLING M/M Excerpt!

Heat pounded down onto the black sand, radiating up to put a sexy sheen over Falen’s golden skin. The vibrant ball of light in the sky painted golden highlights in the Marshal’s wavy, auburn hair and brought out a sexy spray of freckles on his skin. Cliff’s fingertips nearly sizzled from the heat his lover was putting off as he rubbed him down. Despite his relaxed posture, Falen’s muscles quivered under Cliff’s hands, taut with expectation. His big hands clutched the edges of his over-sized towel, his toes dug into the dense, heated sand.

Cliff skimmed his palm down Falen’s long, lean back, sliding it over the golden mounds of his lover’s perfect, naked buttocks. Falen sucked in a breath as Cliff’s fingers slipped into the delicious valley between them. The towel tore under his grip.

Cliff smiled, his hand sliding even deeper, to cup the warm sac between Falen’s legs.

The Marshal widened his legs, giving Cliff room to play. Cliff moved between those strong legs, his hands skimming out of the inviting crack to glide across muscular thighs.

“You’re killin’ me, Blood.”

Cliff’s chuckle was husky with prolonged need. “I’m killing myself.” He reached down to stroke his rock-hard dick, groaning softly at the delicious wave of pleasure that spun through him.

Falen stirred, lifting his head to grin over his shoulder. “I can help you with that.” He lifted to his knees and spread his legs farther, exposing the rock-hard heft of his big cock hanging between them. Cliff took a deep breath, grabbing the sunscreen from the sand and coating his fingertips with it. He slathered the enticing pucker Falen had opened to him with the sweet-smelling lotion and slipped a finger deep.

Available August 8th!


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Hoaley Inexplicable

Book 3: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Book 3: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century should have been fun. But the dead guy draped over the weight machine definitely took the joy out of it!

The Hoale Construction gang has taken on the task of bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century. But the dead guy hanging from the new lat machine is putting a serious crimp in their timeline. When Bobby becomes the number one suspect for the murder, Adam and the gang are forced to try and clear him. But who is the guy? And was Bobby really the last one to see him alive? Questions only seem to multiply the deeper they dig. Until they uncover a connection with a group of thugs who call themselves the Indiana Mobsters. Things just continue to spiral downward from there.


The guard behind him shoved him inside and the other guard slammed the door closed. He heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and ran to the door. The knob wouldn’t turn. He pounded on the door with his fists. “I want a lawyer!”

“That won’t be necessary, Señor Hoale.”

Adam whipped around, his heart in his throat. A man stood at the back of the room, half in the shadows. He wore an ugly dark blue uniform with a wide black belt around his waist. A black, military style hat dipped low over his face, showing only a square jaw and strong chin, which was decorated by a sexy little goatee. “Who the hell are you?”

The man pushed away from the wall and started toward him, his gloved hands coming into view. He held a short, black leather whip in one hand. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

The bad movie line was delivered with a decidedly Hispanic accent. Had Adam somehow gotten on the wrong side of the Mexican police? Not easy to do when you live in Indiana. He swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on…”

“Shut up, Señor Hoale.” The man’s gruff voice seemed somehow familiar and Adam tilted his head, trying to get a better look at him under the hat. The stranger walked with a slight limp, his right leg not bending as well as the left. Adam frowned. He didn’t know anybody with a limp.
The other man stopped in front of him and stuck the whip under Adam’s chin, forcing his gaze upward. “Nothing you can say right now will help and you’ll only piss me off so I’d advise you to keep your mouth closed and listen.”

Adam experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. He tried to lower his chin to get a look at the man again. The whip tightened against his chin. The man pressed closer, his lips stopping close enough to Adam’s ear that it tickled when he spoke. “You are a very sexy man, Señor Hoale.”

Adam blinked, frowned, and started to rebuke the other man. But when the stranger cupped his crotch in one, black-gloved hand, Adam coughed out a laugh, finally realizing why the words and the persona seemed so familiar. It was corrupt Police Commander Cristiano Inocente from Dirk’s last action film, Murder Especial.

Adam grinned. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Commander.”

Dirk’s tongue slipped out and tasted the rim of Adam’s ear. “I don’t think so, guapo. You will scream like a girl as I take you from behind.” The whip slipped down his throat and shoved past the buttons on his shirt, rubbing his nipples until they were rigid.


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Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble, Book 1
Hoaley Ill-Manored, Book 2