Hound Dog & Bean! It is on Sale Today at Amazon! Read an Excerpt Right Here!

Hello my friends. If you were thinking about buying my new book, “Hound Dog & Bean,” today sure would be the day to do it. Today on Amazon it is $5.38 instead of $6.99! That is one HELL of a savings! Gay men saving sweet little animals including my own Sarah Jane. 
Please don’t let it slip down the charts! http://www.amazon.com/gp/bestsellers/digital-text/6487829011/ref=pd_zg_hrsr_kstore_3_6_last#

Bean sat in his office, feeling like utter shit. He sure hadn’t expected his day to go like this. Poindexter had changed his towel and gotten him some ice, which he held against his nose and face. He leaned back—trying to feel even a little bit better. It was a losing battle, but at least the ice helped. 

Bean felt conflicted about that. He would love to see the young man again (how old is he?) and was surprised he did want to see H.D. When had he last felt like that?

But he sure didn’t want the guy to see him like this!

He had to look like shit. Bean wasn’t sure because he was afraid to check himself out in a mirror and see how bad the damage actually was. Wuss, he told himself. Go look.

He rose carefully to his feet, head held back slightly while holding the makeshift icepack in place. Luckily, there were two bathrooms, and he didn’t have to go back into the cafe itself, scaring customers with his bloody nose and maybe black eye. He made it to his goal without incident and tugged the cord that hung from the ceiling. The harsh light revealed an image that, happily, wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Yes, his nose was swelling a bit, and there was some bruising, but his eye wasn’t too bad, and not puffed up in the least. Not bad considering the hulk who had knocked him out.

Bean still couldn’t believe it. Punched. He’d been knocked out! Who’d have thought something like that would happen? 

But he’d never been in a fight. Not even in high school. No one had even cared that much when he came out at seventeen. 
Maybe he was getting old? Was thirty-five old?

Bean headed back to his office, accidentally kicking a box of something heavy on his way and stubbing his toe. Hell!

This was not his day.

It had started well enough. Beautiful, indeed, and he’d taken his bike to work, enjoying the sun and the lovely, cloudless blue sky. Then a beautiful man showed up in the cafe and actually caught his attention. When was the last time he’d really noticed a man? Only to get his lights knocked out five minutes later.

That’s what you got for looking.

He was better off without.

But then…

… then Bean remembered how nice the guy had been—H.D., wasn’t that what Poindexter said he called himself? H.D. had fought for him, and how many people could Bean say had ever done that? The young man had been sweet. And apologetic, even though the incident hadn’t been his fault.

It would be nice to at least talk to H.D. See if he was half as nice as he seemed.

It surprised Bean how attracted he was to H.D.

“I mean, dreadlocks?” Bean muttered. 

But oh, H.D. was so pretty with those huge blue eyes that crinkled at the corners and that wide mouth that could transform into the most dazzling smile…. And he was so slim and had the sweetest little bubble butt and—

“—and stop!” Bean commanded himself. “He’s not coming back. Forget about him. Out of sight, out of mind.” That’s me.

“There you are, boss!”

Bean let out a cry of surprise and spun about (which caused another little wave of dizziness—God, had he gotten a concussion?) to find Poindexter standing there.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She had one eyebrow raised and a bemused look on her face.

How much had she heard?

“There’s somebody out here to see you.”

He started to shake his head, then thought better of it. He closed his eyes. “Tell them I’m not here.”

“You sure?” she asked.

Bean opened his eyes.

She shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll tell H.D. you went home—”

“Wait!” Bean cried. He pushed past her, surprising even himself at the speed with which he’d moved. Then he froze. He turned back to Poindexter. “I look like shit, don’t I? Don’t I look like shit?”

She smiled. “Not as bad as you could. Maybe splash some cold water on your face, and I’ll stall him?”

Suddenly, he felt like a teenager. “Thanks, Mara.”

He headed back into the small bathroom, feeling silly and dorky and lighthearted all at the same time….



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