G-Strings, fake bodies, what lubricant to use, and which angle looks best on camera, these are all things Tony knows. What he doesn't know is how to pursue a real relationship, one outside the industry that's making him retire and leaving him behind. Tony DiMarco, aka Ting Tang Tony, made a big name for himself-- regardless of being small--in an industry where size truly does matter. He's had a long career hiding behind a camera lens where his shortcomings didn't affect him at all. At 38 he's forced to find a real life where hopefully size doesn't matter. The last place he thought his life would change is in Florida.
Tripping over the gorgeous and upstanding, Emily Grant, snaps him out of the pity-pot he is just about to take a bath in. However, having never dated outside the industry has him second-guessing everything. How would someone possibly want his "little engine that could"? Can Tony open up about his playboy-style career, and more importantly, can he overcome the insecurities that he's shoved aside his whole life?
Tony's got his work cut out for him, he needs to penetrate the walls Emily's built to protect herself and her own insecurities. Will she be able to handle Tony's crazy double life he's trying to hide from her, the one he lives back home in L.A.? There's a small chance it might work, that it might fit—something Tony certainly isn't used to. This may be his one opportunity to find that missing puzzle piece he's only been able to fantasize about.
The whirlwind journey these two set out on will keep you rooting for the underdogs, and teach you that it's not always the size of the package that's important—it's what's inside that matters most.
Genre: Romantic Comedy
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The air in Tampa tonight was sticky, and it felt like I was wading instead of walking my way down the sidewalk as sweat began to bead up across my skin. Welcome to fucking July in Florida. One of the only places where it can be pitch black outside and still feel like you walked out into a sauna. Why we didn’t have this pornfest reunion near our homes in southern California, where we normally filmed, was beyond me. I guess it was a good excuse to get away. I found it interesting that our industry gravitated to the only other state that sported as many fake tans, hard bodies, and augmentations as our home base.
As I rounded the corner I saw the modern lines of my hotel ahead and I had one thing on my mind: lying in bed. Ironic, because that’s what pretty much culminated my entire career. Tonight there would be no wild scenes or naked women screaming as they felt my skilled tongue licking up their waxed and bleached out holes.
Tonight I was alone. I only had a moment to wallow in my pity pot because my feet were suddenly lost under me as I tripped over something. Looking back I said, “Sorry man”, expecting to get an ear-full from a homeless dude pitching a cardboard tent for the night, but I sure as hell didn’t see anyone in my line of sight. I shook my head. I hadn’t drank that much, but to be fair, I was sort of daydreaming or living in my newly acquired and lonely retirement. I looked down to see what—or who—I tripped over, and saw a petite raven-haired woman. Apparently my tall ass just plowed her over. Fuck she was tiny—literarily she could have passed as one of Santa’s helpers, but in a sexy kind of way. I pushed aside the scantily clad, naughty elf images to gather my manners because I couldn’t leave her sprawled out on the ground dusting off the hem of her black mini-skirt. I followed the direction of her hands as she smoothed her skirt and noticed that, for a small woman, her legs were toned and perfectly shaped. I extended a hand, but it swallowed hers when she took my offer for help, and it took little effort to pull her upright. I hoped she wasn’t hurt. Damn, now I felt like a big dick. Guess there was a first time for everything.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Shit, that was generic, but to be honest, I wasn’t thinking with the right head.
This woman barely came up to my chest. I was serious about the elf-sized thing…. She just smiled at me and shook her head, her long dark hair trailing over her shoulders.
“No, I’m sorry! I guess I had a little more to drink than I thought. Crap. I mean, geez, a couple glasses of wine shouldn’t bother me that much.” She laughed, and then stopped herself by clapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she was showing me a nervous tell of hers. It was one of the cutest things ever. This girl was getting flustered—over me?
“ Yeah, that happens too when I drink.” Her face scrunched up in frustration again, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Blabbering or whatever she called it, I was eating up everything that came out of her sweet mouth—well at least I think it was sweet, her hand was still over it.
“You know, I’m gonna just chalk this up to office party side effects, continue like it never happened, and blame it on the alcohol.” She dropped her hand and smiled a genuine smile, her entire face illuminating and reflecting the light from the sad streetlamp and neon lights in business windows along the street. I wished I could see what color her eyes were. I wished I knew what she smelled like. Hell, I wished I knew a lot more things about her, but I was sure I already looked like a complete bumbling idiot—a clumsy bumbling idiot standing here open mouthed just staring at her.
I tried to play cool, but I may have been a bit buzzed too, or at least now I felt a little light-headed. “Hey, that sounds good to me. Well, um, have a great evening.” I started to move past her, continuing on to my hotel but a nagging feeling in my gut had me worried about her walking home alone. What if some other dude tripped over her and wasn’t half the guy I was? “Hey, do you want me to walk you home?” I offered, stopping my progress.
Her brows furrowed and an “O” shape took over her mouth, looking a little scared before she quickly masked it to a calm, normal one. She was probably thinking I was gonna try to take advantage of her, which I wasn’t planning on because I was far too much a gentleman to follow through, but I can’t deny that I wasn’t thinking about doing some very naughty unspeakable things to this adorable pixy-sized woman. I quickly amended, “I just mean, there’s a lot of weirdos out here, you okay to walk home?”
She took a few steps back and stammered out, “Uh, no I’m fine. Really, I don’t live that far.” She looked around as if canvassing the area. “Really, I’m okay. I do this all the time.” She tucked some of that long, dark hair behind her ear. “I mean, I don’t walk home drunk all the time. Crap.” She sighed. “Okay, I’m just gonna go.” Turning away, the clicking sound of her heels quickened as she attempted to walk fast in the other direction. I noted the long pointy heels did little to bring her to an average height. I really couldn’t explain the knot of worry I had tangling in my stomach over her walking home by herself.
I watched for a minute longer and as she rounded the corner I caught her looking back over her shoulder. I was sure she was making certain I wasn’t following her. I shook my head. Don’t worry. I’m not a creeper, just a washed up porn star with a little dick and a gifted tongue.
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Rod Stick—though his birth certificate says Rodney Moore— has everything a top-notch porn star ever wanted. Friends are his new family, money satisfies his every wish, and endless lines of willing and ready women fulfill any voids his jaded childhood left behind. Drugs and alcohol patch the remaining leaks those things can’t fix.
However, things are beginning to change. His friends and their bachelor lifestyle are fading in the hot L.A. sun. Irresponsible decisions and self-destructive actions have his career on the rocks. Like his best friend, Tony, he worries he’s going to be the next “has-been.” To complicate things further, a certain sexy and dangerous amber-haired stripper is changing him into another person—one that he isn't sure he can handle. They say you can’t make a “ho into a housewife.” But two hoes? There are better odds in Vegas.
Can Rod find the solace he searching for in his own private dancer, Crystal Amber? Settling down with her might close the door on that dark chapter of his life forever—the one he’s been running from since he was a kid. Or, will he lose himself and everyone else around him instead creating his own version of hell?
Sometimes our own light is hiding in dark places. Will Rod find his?
Genre: Romantic Erotica
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Born and raised in California, she graduated with a degree in Fine Art, which introduced her to a number of creative outlets. She dabbled in various jobs ranging from teaching art, to working in the finance industry. Ultimately, she found her passion in writing. Now, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and children, where she follows her dream of writing romance novels.
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Kristin Leigh Jones is the wearer of many hats—not literally—although she does look good in one. From being a full-time mom, wife, chef, maid, dog walker, litter box scooper to owning a photography business and working as a freelance editor ... She now adds writer to her long resume. Between juggling all these tasks she squeezes in as much time as possible for snuggling her babies, reading, and watching football on Sundays in the fall. Da Bears! Hailing from the Midwest her whole life, she fully appreciates the change of seasons but admits to really only enjoying it less than 5 months of the year.
Kristin is very thankful to have found another half of her brain in her dear friend Kat. Who, might be thousands of miles away, is never farther than a text or a phone call. Together they make up the dynamic duo writing and producing the hilariously romantic and sexy Has Been Series.
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