Ready for a Sizzling Winter Night of Passion?

Mmm – aren’t we all? I love sharing passion with sexy men in front of a roaring fire. Think perhaps a bearskin rug, a bottle of wine, some sinful toys and a frosty winter night. Don’t you have a sensual moment in the making? Well the holidays are here and I thought while you’re planning your big turkey dinner and the next shopping trip, you might enjoy a sassy read. I love writing m/m stories and my latest collection is a hot one. So without further ado – 



Ty McBane is a prizefighter and loves the limelight almost as much as being inside a ring. For the upcoming fight in Las Vegas just after the holidays, his manager secures several outstanding press conferences. The coveted heavyweight belt is something that has eluded him now four times and he’s determined to break the losing streak. His second stop Jackson Hole Wyoming, he’s shocked he has such a huge following of locals. Jazzed from the spectacular moment, he heads to a bar to celebrate and to drown his sorrows. While he could have any choice of suitors for a night or more, he’s never found the right man and money no longer takes away the pain. After all, who the hell could tolerate a brooding black man hell bent on getting the shit beaten out of him? Then again, he has dark secrets in his family and ones he’s determined to fight against, no matter what the ugly decisions he’s prepared to make means to his life and his livelihood. This fight he is going to win.

Shane Brant has seen just about every type of man and women enter his bar after several years of employment. Playing bartender and pseudo psychologist allows him creative fader for the characters in his books. The extra money earned from their sales he squalors away for his real dream – opening a camp for underprivileged children – something he’s never told anyone. When he meets a larger than life athlete, he’s instantly incensed by his callous behavior. That is until the hulking giant starts to open up. Realizing there’s much more to the sexy hunk, he invites Ty back to his apartment and suddenly sparks fly. During a sizzling winter night of passion Shane reveals his hidden desire. Waking alone with a Dear John note, he’s furious and vows never to trust again. As he attempts to get over the heartache, he receives a phone call that might just change his life – if he can learn to believe again.


“Why don’t you finally figure out about who you are and the man you were?”

“I know who I am, damn it!” Ty snapped and then shook his head as he glanced at his sister.

“Uh-huh. I can really tell.” Inching closer, she placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled. “I love you and want you happy. You simply need to find something that gives you contentment and allows you to honestly be you.”

“I have. Boxing makes me happy. The sport fulfills me.”

Giving him a heated look, she raised her eyebrow. “Does it really? Being beaten to shit, receiving constant injuries is all you want out of your life? Really?”

“Boxing is all I know, Tessa. It’s all I know.”


“Are you sure there’s going to be anybody in that room or am I going to be standing in the middle of a freaking snowstorm talking to myself?” Ty McBane growled as he sniffed and paced the back room of the conference center. Glaring at his manager, he wasn’t certain the trip was worth his time away from intensive training. In order to be in top shape for the upcoming fight, he had to train hard every day. This alone was going to \
cost him a minimum of four days away from the gym. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and groaned. Training. Yeah, the one constant in his life. Suddenly he couldn’t get his sister’s words out of his mind lately. Maybe Tessa was right. Self-doubt had now become a way of life and a strangling nemesis. And still he wasn’t happy or satisfied with either himself or life in general. Something was missing.

“Would you freaking relax? I wasn’t pitched off the turnip truck just yesterday for God’s sake!” Agitated, he glared at Ty.

“Oh come on, Jarvis. We’ve been in these two bit towns before. I stand around looking like a dumbass chump, while the pretty blond take pictures and coos, asking me all the wrong questions about boxing. Like I’m going to the next Wrestlemania throw down! And you know I need to train.”

Huffing, Jarvis folded his arms and shook his head. “For a winning prize fighter you sure whine like a baby.”

“Fuck you!” But he grinned. So the prima donna look wasn’t his prettiest. Still, he was nervous as hell about the fight scheduled on New Year’s Day. Some said if he couldn’t beat Michael “The Killer” Brennan, his career was toast. Sadly the odds makers in Vegas had him down in the odds pools as two hundred to one already. And it was only going to get worse from here. Oh yeah. By the time of the fight he’d be considered less than the underdog. Worm sweat somehow came to mind.

“Look, I think you might be surprised and this isn’t some foreign country. They do have gyms here. Besides, having some time off is probably a good idea, given your nasty mood as of late. You’re unfocused and training isn’t going to do you a damn bit of good unless you are.”

“My nasty mood? Unfocused? Jesus Christ. You know what, if I wasn’t harangued every day by some reporter insistent on getting the back story on why the heavyweight title has eluded me for so many years, I’d be in a damn good mood! Think about just how well I could focus with a little bit more support!” Ty snapped. Unfortunately he wanted to win the upcoming fight more than any match in his entire career. Hell, he wanted to win the match more than fame or fortune or any of the damn trinkets he’d purchased with his winnings over the years. This single fight was paramount to his manhood, at least in his mind.


“Yeah, whatever,” Ty huffed, tension racing between then.

“You know what you need?” Jarvis asked, his eyes twinkling.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler, he shook off the excess ice clinging to the sides and resisted snarling. “I know you’re going to enjoy the hell out of telling me, so just go on.” He yanked off the cap and took a long swig.

“You need to get laid, rough and tumble style. Big cock up your ass would do you some good.”

Spitting water all over the front of his shirt, he growled and stared incredulously at his friend and the man who’d been solely responsible for dragging his ass out of the gutter time and time again. They’d seen each other through the good and horrendous times and Jarvis never mentioned his sexuality to anyone, including the prizefighter determined to keep his private life completely out of the press. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You need a stiff dick in your mouth and up your ass to remind you that you aren’t all that and a bag of chips.”

“How about just a little bit louder so the entire group of say ten can hear you announce I’m gay.” Ty wiped away the remnants of water and sighed. Jarvis was right on the money though. He hadn’t had an intimate moment with a man in… Hell, he couldn’t remember. While he could have any arm and eye candy afforded a man in his position and wealth, he only toyed with women for the cameras and the majority of men were terrified of him. Then again, at six foot six of all big black mass, no wonder he was leered at in dark alleys. After the last failed attempt at something called romance he’d given up, placing all his efforts into perfecting his craft. Since making the determination to train hard until he was completely ready to take the title, he hadn’t looked back. Yep, he sucked at romance.

“Look, I think this is good for you just to be here. We honestly have a hell of a lot of press waiting to talk to you and support you. Could even get a big story or two out of this. Before you say anything, you just never know.”


“Good. Glad to see some sense can still be kicked into that ugly mug of yours,” Jarvis said as he grinned. “Now all you have to do is stop acting like the brooding loser. In other words act your ass off. Then you can enjoy a relaxing day or so and go back refreshed. Spend the remaining time before the fight simply fine-tuning and you’re gonna kick The Killer’s ass. I promise you that. You’re ready. You’re solid muscle and all moves. The guy can’t take you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Not unless you let him anyway.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Ty thought about the last time he’d met Michael in a ring and the damn event had been brutal. He was lucky he hadn’t landed in the hospital for the amount of bruising covering his body and internally. Then again, admittance wouldn’t have been his first and certainly not his last. That is not unless he quit. Groaning, he clenched his fist. Suck it up, boy or move into retirement. Retirement was exactly was he was headed for and the entire world knew it. “Act, huh? That I can do.”

“Excellent. That’s the guy I knew in college, the one who would go and snag the world by that balls at any costs, taking on every asshole who stood in his way with a vengeance.”

“That’s still me. Kind of.” Giving him a quick smile Ty burst into laughter. “Well, maybe I’m trying to get him back at least.”

Patting him on the back, Jarvis smiled. “Put your game face on, suck it up, flirt your big black ass off and make certain when you leave that room out there everyone knows you’re a winner. Got it?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Finally, you respect the title,” he said as he wagged his finger.

“Only on Fridays.” Grinning, Ty polished off the water, pitching the trash into the wastebasket and smoothed his tie. The one aspect he enjoyed about the limelight was looking good in suits, Armani man by choice. The covering was very much like a mask and he certainly continued to hide his true self from the public when at all possible.

“It’s time, champ.” Walking toward the door, Jarvis gave him an intense glare and then plastered on a grin.

When the door was swung open Ty was floored. There had to be a solid five hundred or more people in the oversized conference room. “What the hell?” As flashes popped, one after the other and the rumble of people crowding closer floated around him, he sucked in his breath. This was more than any other press conference he’d had since the very beginning when he was actually winning fight after fight.

“Mr. McBane! Over here.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed and have a wonderful holiday!

Kisses  xxx



About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
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