LINE BRAWL RELEASE DATE, PRE-ORDER, and THE FIRST CHAPTER of THIS MONSTER!!!!

All right, I kinda get why some people enjoy writing in all caps! lol! That was FUN!

Let's get right down to business, because, from all the messages, emails, posts, tweets, smoke signals...

A couple of people are waiting for an official release day for LINE BRAWL.

To make this announcement, let's bring out... Steve Harvey!!!!

Just kidding! <g>

LINE BRAWL (The Dartmouth Cobras #8) WILL BE RELEASED

MAY 30TH, 2016

For those who haven't seen the beautiful cover, I'll post it here. I'd like to give special thanks to Jen Leblanc, from Studio Smexy, for the photo shoot. Any authors looking for custom work should definitely give her a shout!

Also, special thanks to Robert Simmons, who posed for the cover. Something about this man's eyes and smile were just perfect for 'Easy' and I'm so happy he was willing to put up with me changing my mind every few minutes until I had the exact look I needed!

Also, everyone needs to go on FB or Twitter and wish Robert luck on his fight tomorrow, April 23rd, versus Chris Cagle! Maybe the best man win!

And now...

Here's the cover and blurb: 

Not all fights are one on one. In a team, no man should stand alone.
‘You can’t keep me.’
Shawn ‘Easy’ Pischlar has given his speech so often, it should be written on the white board in the Dartmouth Cobra’s locker room. Too many of his own teammates have heard the words.
And the games he’s played are finally catching up to him.
To hang on to his freedom, Shawn gave up on ever having someone to call his own. A young woman who expects nothing from him slips into his life and has him ready to toss the rulebook. While the man he loves tempts him to burn it.
Keeping them both would be easy, only…caring about them isn’t.
Because when he lets himself care, he remembers why he wrote the rules in the first place. Every lover, from the casual, to those who steal a piece of his heart, shouldn’t expect more than pleasure. More than passion.
Playing the game, on and off the ice, is his whole world. One he isn’t ready to change.
Except, life doesn’t stop for the game. And when old scars are ripped open, and he’s left bloody and beaten, the rules won’t help him put the pieces of his life back together.
To win this fight, he’ll have to break each and every one.

Pre-order:

Amazon: http://bit.ly/linebrawl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/linebrawlIB
Nook: http://bit.ly/linebrawlBN
Kobo: http://bit.ly/linebrawlK

 

***STOP HERE IF YOU WANT TO WAIT UNTIL NEXT MONTH FOR CHAPTER ONE***

 LINE BRAWL (The Dartmouth Cobras #1)
© Bianca Sommerland 2016
  *unedited first chapter*

Chapter One

Early May

Why had he ever thought it would just be an easy, no regrets, fuck?

Because everyone’s right. You are stupid.

Ian White stepped up to the door of his best friend’s apartment, a place he’d spent more time at than his own, and for the first time couldn’t bring himself to just walk in. He had the damn key, on the Deadpool keychain Pisch had given him, but he left it in his pocket.

Things were different.

I fucked up.

But this was freakin’ Shawn “Easy” Pischlar. Sex didn’t mean a thing to him, no matter who it was with. There were some lines that couldn’t be crossed though, and Ian had trampled all over them like the big, dumb meathead he was. Fine, Pisch had fucked other friends, but he didn’t see them all the time. He had his rules and made sure everyone understood them before he worked them out of their clothes and did what he was so fucking good at.

He was a damn good Dom because he was observant though, and he’d caught White’s slip when he’d said his name while they were…

‘Don’t fall in love with me or anything, Bruiser. I’ll break your heart.’

Love. Screw that. Falling in love with Pisch was the fastest way to get him to fucking disappear. And no way was Ian gonna risk that. Not for sex.

Not for anything.

They’d had fun. Shared a hot chick. That was over and now things could go back to normal.

Then why are you still standing in the fucking hall?

He jabbed his hand into his pocket to grab the key.

The door opened, revealing Pisch with a smirk on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe. “Finally grew your balls back, Bruiser?”

Ian scowled, staring at the center of Pischlar’s bare, tattooed chest, because he couldn’t deal with that damn arrogance aimed at him. Not now. “I just came to get my comic book. I wasn’t sure if you were still sleeping.”

“It’s past noon.”

“Yeah, but you were out late last night at the club.” Probably fucking some cute little twink some Domme—or Dom—had decided they wanted to share. Someone who wouldn’t get all fucking confused and imagine the man would want more.

Maybe Tyler again. He ground his teeth as he pictured the Dartmouth Cobra’s golden boy, Tyler Vanek, all small and wiry and in love with his Master and Mistress. Perfect for Pisch to play with.

You jealous?

He blinked at the weird little voice in his head he was sure had never been there before. He so needed to hack the source up into little pieces and bury it.

“Don’t think so hard, you’ll stress yourself out.” Pisch gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Come in. And don’t lie to me about why you’re here. You gave me that comic book as a peace offering.”

Yeah, I did. And he didn’t really want it back, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse, so screw it, he’d pretend he was desperate to get his hands on the damn thing. “I know, but I still haven’t read that one yet… Can I borrow it?”

“Sure.” Pisch’s brow creased slightly as he held the door open wide, waiting for Ian to pass. “Sorry for being an asshole. I thought you came to get laid.”

The laugh escaped Ian before what Pisch had said fully registered. He blinked, stopping with one foot over the threshold. He glared at Pisch. “Are you fucking serious?”

Careless expression smoothing all the lines on his face, Pisch lifted a shoulder. “Not that I’d have minded, but I had to mess with you a bit. Keep things light.”

“’Course you did.” Ian made his way across the hall, heading to the kitchen to grab one of the beers from the case he’d bought last week. He twisted the cap, taking a few gulps since his mouth was suddenly fucking dry and he couldn’t face Pisch yet.

This was why fucking Pisch had been the most phenomenally stupid thing he’d ever done in his life. He’d be shoved into the category of potential repeat fuck. So long as he didn’t get too comfortable.

He liked how comfortable things had been before.

“Hey, I thought we were good. What’s eating at you, White?” Pischlar’s voice came from much too close. He touched the small of Ian’s back.

And Ian almost broke another tooth on the lip of the beer bottle. He took a deep breath and managed not to jerk away. Or move closer.

This man should be illegal without a damn prescription. One with a warning ‘Might cause fatal addiction’.

His gaze went to Pisch’s bare feet first. Which was safe enough. He had a tattoo on one foot, barbed wire that looked pretty real, with 17 spikes and the words ‘Keep moving, even when it hurts’ in long, elegant script.

Deep. Pisch’s tattoo were all full of meaning—most of which Ian didn’t get—and people who paid attention to them might see him as a sensitive man. But he wasn’t. Pisch was damn tough. Ian was tough himself, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with the pain of a needle jabbing into his damn foot.

“There a reason you’re not looking at me, man?” Pisch put his hand on Ian’s shoulder, turning him fully.

Giving Ian no choice but to meet his eyes. Eyes that were an odd green shade, like fog over the lush green prairies where he’d grown up near Manitoba, Winnipeg. Eyes that never missed a thing, but hid so much.

Ian shrugged and glanced down at Pisch’s chest again. The man was freakin’ tight. Not bulging with muscles so much as carved with sharp definition; not a damn ounce of fat on him. Covered in wicked ink, nipples pierced, all bad ass and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude seeping from his very pores.

Ian had never lusted after a man in his life, but Pisch…Pisch wasn’t just any man.

He’s my best friend.

Forcing what he hoped was a smile to his lips, he brought his eyes back to Pisch’s face. “Just making sure you’re whole, buddy.”

Pisch smirked, like he wasn’t buying what Ian was trying to sell, then made a dismissive motion with his hand. “All good. So I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk about the fact we had sex?”

The beer that had been going down nice and smooth with that last gulp tried to drown him. Ian sputtered, coughing as the liquid hit his windpipe, handing Pisch his beer so he could cover his mouth while he hacked up a lung.

Gently rubbing his back, Pisch leaned close to whisper in his ear. “This would go so much easier if you admitted you wanted me.”

All right, that was fucking enough. Ian growled and latched onto Pisch’s forearms, shoving him against the counter by the fridge. The shock in Pisch’s eyes gave him some shallow satisfaction as he brought his lips close to the other man’s.

“You think anything about this is easy, Easy?” His whole body trembled as he struggled not to drop his gaze as Pischlar’s eyes hardened. He’d tried to remind himself he was straight, so this thing between him and Pisch couldn’t happen. The confused emotions were new and the playoffs were the wrong time to be exploring all this messed up shit.

But the man he cared about—the man he loved—more than anyone in the damn world beside his grandmother, was gonna turn into a stranger if they didn’t clear the fucking air.

So he considered all the things he hadn’t let himself really think about and just blurted out every single one. “When Sahara was with us, we were playing. It was a game and we both knew the rules. I don’t know the rules anymore, Shawn. I—”

“Don’t call me that.” Pisch flattened his hands against Ian’s chest and shoved. “And you might be a fucking caveman, but you manhandle me in my goddamn house again and it will be the last time you ever set foot past the door.”

Well shit. Nodding slowly, Ian backed away a bit more, giving Pisch some space. He’d gone and fucked up again. He hadn’t meant anything bad by grabbing the man, but maybe he should be more careful.

He dropped his gaze, staring at the barbwire again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. And I think I get where you’re coming from.” Pisch grabbed another two beers from the still open fridge and motioned for Ian to follow him to the kitchen table. He sat, waiting for Ian to join him, a relaxed smile sliding across his lips. “You’re not into guys, but you like all the things I do to you. And I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t warn you, you might start thinking there’s more between us because all the feeling good hits the right triggers.”

Maybe he’s right. But… “What’s that do to us being friends?”

“Absolutely nothing unless you let it.”

“Unless I—” No, Pisch was right. He was the one who’d gone all cold after they’d joined the mile-high-club and then almost died when the plane forgot how to fucking fly right. He’d figured out that much, which was why he’d given Pisch the comic book.

The best way he could think of to tell Pisch he was sorry without leaving any doubt that he meant it.

He shook his head, picking up his beer and taking a sip so he could consider his words carefully. “I love you, man.”

“I know. And I love you too.” The way Pisch said those three words was no different than him agreeing that Iron Man rocked. Or ACDC playing over and over on a roadtrip was an awesome idea. No big impact on life, they were on the same page.

One full of words that wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

Taking a deep breath, Ian ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “So where do we go from here?”

“That depends. You sure you didn’t come here to get laid?” Pisch arched a brow, then sighed when Ian shook his head again. “A shame. But we can chill with a movie or something. Two days, no practice. I’ve got plenty of time to seduce you.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “You hit a dry spell or something? Jesus, Pisch, go take a cold shower.”

“Why should I? You’re here and you’re being rather difficult, which is damn sexy. I like a bit of a challenge.” Pisch gave him a half smile over the lip of his beer. “Wanna bet I can put on your favorite movie and get you too distracted to watch it before the opening credits are done?”

“No, I’m good.” Actually, Ian had never been less turned on in his life. Whatever had been between him and Pisch the times they’d fooled around was gone. And he wasn’t sure why. “Can I ask you something as a friend, and not a fuck buddy or whatever you’ve decided I am now?”

Pischlar winced, inhaling sharply. “Bruiser, I’m not trying to—”

“Just answer the damn question, Shawn.”

Eyes narrowed, Pisch inclined his head.

“Do I get the talk?”

The edges of Pisch lips quirked up. “White, I will still train you if you want me to. I will suck your dick—hell, I’d be doing it now if you weren’t giving off ‘don’t fucking touch me’ signals.”

Tightening his grip on his beer bottle, Ian held Pischlar’s amused gaze. He didn’t move as Pisch came closer, close enough that the heat of his lips slid over Ian’s.

He brushed his cheek against Ian’s, speaking softly in his ear. “But you can’t keep me.”

* * * *

This game wasn’t one Shawn wanted to play with White. Probably wasn’t one he should play. But the second he’d met White’s eyes and seen the man looking at him that way…

A few guys and girls had looked at him like that before. Like he was a man they could fall in love with. That they were falling in love with. And he’d escaped every time without anyone getting hurt.

Too badly, anyway.

White had the advantage, because Shawn had started falling for him a long time ago, but his reaction after they’d fucked had set off alarm bells Shawn had promised himself a long time ago he’d never ignore again.

They could have great sex. Figure out how to hold on to their friendship. But if they tread down that muddy path toward an actual relationship, White would destroy him.

White was a good man. He cared about people, probably more than he should, but he wasn’t built to balance in the middle of the spectrum for long. He was only twenty-seven years old and one day he’d want a wife and kids. All kinds of normal.

As his friend, Shawn would make sure White got everything he could ever want. Now, and in the future.

What if you’re wrong? What if White doesn’t want all you’ve planned out for him? What if he really wants you?

There was no doubt that White wanted him. At the moment. Shawn was pretty impressed the man managed to front like he had no interest in getting off, but White was very responsive. The right touch would shut down all his objections and he’d be fucking putty in Shawn’s hands.

If they weren’t teammates, weren’t as close as brothers—which was pretty twisted, considering how often he thought about sliding his lips over the man’s dick again—he would use every trick he’d honed on those who meant nothing to him.

Instead, he made some popcorn and joined White on the couch, laughing at White’s scowl when he stole the remote. He put on one of White’s top ten favorite comic book movies, The Incredible Hulk. The newer one. White loved every comic books movie ever made, even the ones that tanked in the box office, but this one always got his full attention. He seemed to relate to the unstable hero.

Yet another reason Shawn had to keep him at arms length.

“Not so rough, Steve. That fucking hurts.” Shawn’s head hit the edge of his bathroom sink as his boyfriend slammed into him, his fingers digging into his hips. “Slow down. Why the fucking rush?”

“My girlfriend’s waiting for me, stupid.” Steve rammed in one last time with a loud groan—one loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but thankfully, no one was home. He pulled away, the sudden loss of support dropping Shawn to his knees. “I told you this would be quick. You’re not gonna be a total fag and cry about it, are you?”

“No.” Shawn dragged himself to his feet as Steve headed to his bedroom to get his clothes. He stepped gingerly into the room, his whole body aching. And not in a good way. “And you don’t get to call me a fag like you aren’t one, asshole. I might be the only one who knows, but—”

Steve closed the distance between them in three short strides, grabbing Shawn by the throat and holding him against the wall. “But what? You know that if you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you, right?”

“You know I won’t.”

“Good, then don’t talk shit, all right?” Steve loosened his grip, smiling abruptly. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Shawn rubbed his throat even as Steve kissed him. The other boy was the biggest, most popular, jock in their high school. He got why Steve was so paranoid, but he hated it when he got mean and violent.

Things would be different after they graduated though. Steve didn’t want to play football anymore. He was doing it for his dad now, but he wanted to be a doctor. And once he graduated medical school, he wouldn’t give a shit what anyone thought about the two of them together.

Shawn just had to be patient.

And Shawn had been very, very patient. Put up with more bruises than he could count. Not that Steve had been abusive, really, but the one time Shawn had slipped up about their relationship in front of the other players…

Well, that hadn’t been the first or last beating Shawn had gotten, but it was the one he’d finally learned from. He didn’t just get off on control, he needed it. When he shared with another Dom he trusted, he could relax his hold a little, but never with a sub who had a hair trigger and could snap without warning.

He trusted White, so he didn’t mind training him, but even in that, he’d have to set some very clear limits. If he planned to push White close to the edge, he’d likely restrain him.

If he let White in any deeper, he wouldn’t have that kind of control.

Are you afraid of him?

Shawn’s lips tightened at the thought. No, he wasn’t afraid of White. But the man had gotten physical with friends in the past. He’d gotten physical with Shawn in the kitchen. Something he would never do with a woman.

The man would make a good boyfriend, maybe even a good husband one day. To a woman he would treat gently, that he could protect with all those fierce instincts that were fucking sexy and terrifying all at once.

Yeah, you got issues, man.

True. Issues he was well aware of and had a handle on. Enough of one to avoid diving in deep enough to drown. He could wade into the wild current of passion with White. But he wasn’t reckless enough to let himself be dragged in all the way.

That settled, he let himself relax and admired the broad physique of his best friend. White was still wearing far too many clothes, but even in a T-shirt, he was a damn fine sight. Big muscles, a strong jaw, and warm blue eyes that didn’t hide a thing. They were crystal clear windows to his soul.

Windows revealing pure confusion when he glanced over and caught Shawn staring at him.

“Shawn?”

Fuck, he doesn’t listen, does he? Shawn arched a brow, leaned forward, dropping one hand down to White’s crotch to squeeze him through his jeans. “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

White’s lips parted. He began to pant as Shawn rubbed his swelling cock through his faded blue jeans. His eyes drifted shut. “Shit. I’m sorry, Pisch.”

“You’re forgiven.” Shawn shifted closer to White, brushing his lips up the side of his throat as White tipped his head back. “You into the movie?”

Shaking his head, then nodding, White groaned. “I…” He hesitated. Then opened his eyes and latched on to Shawn’s wrist. “Kiss me.”

Shawn blinked. He always remembered the hard limits of his subs. Fine, White wasn’t exactly his sub, but if he trained the man he would fall into the same category. White didn’t kiss his casual flings. Shawn had teased him about how ‘Pretty Woman’ that was, but he was curious how the man had avoided kissing the many puck bunnies he fooled around with.

Of course, if they had their lips around his dick, or his mouth on their cunt, they probably didn’t notice he was avoiding anything too intimate.

Which meant that was what White wanted from Shawn. Something more intimate.

He was a simple man, so he might think he wanted that now, but with the right distraction, he’d forget all about it. Shawn pulled his wrist free and snagged the button of White’s jeans. “Kiss you where?”

“Fuck this shit.” White pushed off the sofa and headed for the door.

And Shawn almost let him go, but he couldn’t. He was the one who’d fucked up this time. White was afraid to lose their friendship and Shawn wasn’t helping.

“Don’t go, White.” Shawn chewed at his bottom lip when White stopped, head bowed, shoulders stiff. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t want you to stop, I just…” White groaned, lifting his arms to laced his fingers behind his neck. “You know what, you’re right. This needs to stop. I want what we had before back. Can we just watch the movie?”

“Absolutely.” Shawn picked up the remote and skipped back to the scene he’d interrupted with his fondling. “Wanna grab a couple beers while you’re up?”

White laughed. “Sure.”

“And tell me if you change your mind about watching the movie?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, White returned with two beers and handed Shawn one. “I won’t.”

They managed to chill out without further issue. After the third movie—apparently they were doing an X-men marathon—Shawn teased White about having a man-crush on Wolverine. He offered to relieve some ‘pressure’.

But White’s answer never changed. He’d effectively shoved Shawn back into the friend zone.

Which fucking sucked.

PREORDER