BDSM UNLEASED & HOT JOCKS IN JULY BLOG HOP

**NOTE** A scheduling mishap on my part made it so my blog is in 2 hops at the same time. The only way I could think to fix this is by doubling up the prizes! The First Blog hop ends July 17th, so I will announce the first winners then. Thanks for your understanding :) 

This is so the perfect Blog Hop for the Dartmouth Cobras! What makes it even more fitting is that these particular Cobras develop a very different relationship through the course of the 3rd book in the series, BREAKAWAY. I could tell you more, but I think I'll let the excerpt speak for itself! ;)  
Check out the bottom of the post for prizes and don't forget to comment for your chance to win! 

Rubbing his lips as he shook his head, he moved towards a bookshelf and picked up the first familiar book, Strangers by Dean Koontz. On another shelf he found a bottle of Jamaican rum and a tumbler which he filled before bringing the book and the glass to the chair. Not like he'd be able to sleep anyway.

"I have sports books."

Luke arched a brow as Seb slipped into the room and gave him a dry smile. "No picture books? With real big words?"

"I'm afraid not." Seb came to stand in front of him and lifted the book to see the cover. "I wouldn't have taken you for a fan of Koontz. This isn't one of his best."

"It's my favorite. All those people trying to piece together the weird shit that's happening to them. Lots of suspense. Couldn't put it down once I picked it up. Shocked my mom and read it in just three days."

"So you haven't read it recently?"

"Naw, when I was thirteen." Luke took a sip of rum, then gestured to Seb with the glass. "I hope you don't mind that I helped myself?"

"Not at all. I'd tell you to make yourself comfortable, but you've done that already."

"Yeah, sorry, bad habit." He grinned. "Bunnies hate it when they bring me home and find me checking out their Vagisil and shit in the bathroom. I figure, once I've had my tongue up your ass, 'privacy' is kinda a mute point."

Seb's eyes widened. Then he chuckled. "Well, since I haven't had that pleasure, should I assume you won't invade my privacy?"

Choking on a mouthful of rum, Luke stared at him. "You had your hand on my balls—aaannnd, umm, yeah, let's not talk about that. Want to talk about the playoffs? Think Mason's knee is solid enough?"

"I never discuss the playoffs until twenty-four hours before the game. It's superstitious nonsense, like—" He grazed Luke's scruffy cheek with his knuckles. "Not shaving during the playoffs. I noticed you started early."

"Yeah, well I shaved twice as often before, hoping it would help my beard grow faster once I stopped." He swallowed, unable to help leaning into Seb's touch. "You think it will work?"

"It's hard to tell." Seb crouched to eye level and traced Luke's jaw with his fingers in a way that made him shiver. His thumb brushed his bottom lip. "The growth is pretty even, no patchy spots that I can see. I doubt you'll make the rankings for worst playoff beards."

"Thanks."

"So, why was your mother so shocked that you finished the book quickly?" Seb straightened and leaned a muscular forearm on the back of the chair. "She must have seen you read like that before?"

Luke grinned and shook his head. "Nope, not unless it was for school, and I grabbed the movie for reports every chance I got. My grades were sucky and my mom threatened not to let me play hockey anymore if I didn't get them up. My English marks were the worse, so I made her a deal. I would write an extra report, and if I got an A, she'd let me play. My English teacher agreed, under one condition. I had to choose a book over four hundred pages."

"You took that as a challenge?"

"Damn straight I did. And I got my A. My mom was so happy, she nagged my dad until he got me two new sticks. And not the cheap ones." He thumbed the pages of the book and smiled, recalling how every single one of Koontz's books had sat in a box beside the sticks on the kitchen table. "You see, my dad played hockey most his life—only made it to the minors though. He didn't finish school and had no other plans. So when he got injured, he couldn't get a good job. My mom was scared I'd do the same thing. She cried when I graduated high school, and cried some more when I got a scholarship to the University of Minnesota. Made her happy that she didn't raise a dumb jock."

"And your father?"

Finishing off his rum, Luke shrugged. "He didn't care whether or not I was dumb, so long as I played good. He showed up when I was drafted—five years after filing for divorce to chase some young tail, walking out on my mom and me—telling me he was so proud. I wanted to deck him. My mom worked her ass off as an orderly in a local hospital to pay for all my shit. Me making it had nothing to do with him."

"But you had your mother's support. Which is all that matters." Seb squeezed his shoulder. "Would you like another drink?"

Lips pressed together, Luke handed over his glass. "You gonna get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?"

Seb laughed. "I will never take advantage of you when you are drunk, semental. Whatever we do, you will have to face sober."

"Remind me to keep a flask on me at all times."

The dark look Seb gave him stilled his heart. He inched back into the chair as Seb returned, glass in hand, and loomed over him. "You may drink tonight. And tomorrow night. After that, you will be sober, niño. At all times. To be otherwise will disappoint both me and the team and you are better than that."

Yeah, I am. But I don't need you telling me what to do. Luke took a long, burning gulp of rum and scowled. "Are you under the impression that I give a fuck what you think?"

Placing his hand over the glass, Seb leaned over him, lips close enough to kiss. His accent thickened his tone as he spoke. "I know you care what I think, Luke. And I know you are fighting, very hard, not to. When you're done fighting it, let me know."

A brief, hot brush of lips and Seb moved away, leaving the room without looking back. Luke pressed his fingers to his lips and ground his teeth.

I. Don't. Care.

It took an insane amount of effort to choke down what would no doubt be one of his last drinks for awhile.

But that doesn't mean I care. Just means he's right.

 * * * *

Now for the prizes! Those who comment about the excerpt with their email in the comment will be entered for one of 4 chances to win a copy of their choice of one book from my backlist OR a copy of BREAKAWAY in the format of their choice the day of its release. Out of these 4 winners the 2  best comments will win Puck Bunny t-shirts. 

For even more awesome chances to win, click on the badges below. And GOOD LUCK!