Books Are My Life: Available Now!

Our desires align in a way I've never experienced.

Mine, an all-new age-gap, dad’s best friend, M/M romance from bestselling author Riley Hart is now available!

For as long as I can remember, I've craved submission, but have struggled to put my wants into words. Then along comes a man online that I know only as Sir, and the connection is instant. Our desires align in a way I've never experienced. Anonymous or not, Sir is exactly what I'm looking for.

After several intense online sessions, no faces involved, we finally agree to meet. Except the man waiting for me isn't a stranger—it's my dad's lifelong best friend, Marshall.

Marsh

John's my chosen family, my safe space. The only thing we don't see eye to eye on are my personal needs in the bedroom. So, when his son, JT, turns out to be the first person who’s excited me in longer than I can remember, I'm devastated. John would never forgive me if I let this happen.

And I try to stay away, I swear, but I can't.

What starts out as simple fulfilment of physical desires grows into something more. The trust JT and I share, his submission...it reaches me on levels I didn't know were possible. He makes me crave forever.

JT is mine, but to claim him, I’m sure to lose everything else in the process.

Mine is a dad’s best friend, steamy romance. Naughtier than most of my books, please use the look inside feature to check the content warning.

Content Warnings:

Dad’s best friend, Age gap, Dominance and Submission, Light Impact play, Light watersports, Praise, Humiliation, Chastity, Enema, Orgasm Control,

One MMM play scene

Start reading today!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon: https://amzn.to/4gCpMoB

Add Mine to Goodreads: https://tinyurl.com/mine1gr

Keep reading for a look inside Mine!

The front door slams, shaking the house. That means he went outside, wanting to leave, but she’ll try to get him to stay. If I hang around any longer, they’ll be making up, and I definitely don’t want to hear that part.

I can go to John’s. I know that. He’ll probably be pissed at me if I don’t. John is the kind of guy who wants to be everything to everyone. He can do anything, but he’s also not a dick about it, which I don’t think happens very often. But damn, I feel like a loser having to depend on him, always knocking on his window in the middle of the night so he can let me inside. For his parents making extra dinner in case I show up.

When Mom and Lyle stumble back into the house, her bedroom door closing almost as hard as the front door had moments before, I get out of bed. Hearing your mom have sex? That’s never fun, and in our tiny two-bedroom house with its thin walls, I hear everything.

I tug on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. I have clothes at John’s that I can wear to school tomorrow, and I keep toiletries there too, so I just pull my shoes on, grab my backpack, and head out. Mom won’t notice I’m gone, or if she does, she won’t think twice about it. She’s not the type of parent I have to check in with and tell her what I’m doing.

Even though I’m seventeen and have my license, I don’t have a car, so I jump on my bike and ride to John’s. I’m hoping to save enough money to buy a cheap used vehicle soon.

All the lights are off in John’s house, and I stand out front for a moment, studying it. The house has two stories, with a fresh light-blue paint from last year. There are flowers out front and a garden in the back. John’s basketball hoop is in the driveway, where we spend a lot of time shooting. Their whole street looks straight out of a family TV show, one where there might be a little drama sometimes, but at the end of each episode, everything is tied with a nice, perfect bow. They’ll always come together and do what’s right while supporting each other.

I head around the side of the house, surprised when I see the lamp on beside John’s bed, through his downstairs window. It’s late, and we have school tomorrow. He’s usually in bed earlier.

I knock gently, and a moment later the curtains pull apart and there he is—brown hair messy like he’s been running his fingers through it, the way he does when he’s nervous. John wears his heart on his sleeve, especially around me, so I immediately know something’s wrong.

He opens the window, and I jump up and climb inside. There’s no reason not to use the door—his parents would never care about John having me in—but this is just something we’ve always done if I come over at night.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m freaking the hell out.” John sits on the edge of the bed, his leg bouncing up and down.

I frown. “What happened? Is it your mom?”

“Callie’s pregnant.”