Anyone who knows me, knows my love for gay fiction. I love reading and writing it. So it's no surprise when I found DJ Manly and her splendid writing style. Melting Ice was her first work I read and fell for Ice *pant* It was also easy to follow this story and get absorbed by it until I didn't want to stop reading until I was done.
If you like M/M romance fiction and especially about cops, yeah, this book is for you :D
by DJ Manly
Publisher: Mojo Castle
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Length: Bedtime Story
A young cop, in the closet and isolated, is transferred to the bikers squad, where he is betrayed by a higher ranking officer. When Brian Fuller finds himself in the middle of a field surrounded by a group of notorious outlaw bikers, he is in for the fight of his life.
He wakes up battered and bruised, only to discover that he is the hostage of the gang's leader, the infamous, brutally handsome Ice. At first, Brian doesn't understand why he is still alive. It turns out that the man who murdered Ice's family, is the same one who left Brian for dead... and Ice intends on trading Brian's life to get him as soon as Brian is strong enough. In the meantime, while Ice waits for Brian to heal, a raging sexual heat between them begins to fuel.
Melting Ice is a story of great passion, sizzling sex, and above all, a love story laced with the unexpected.
I wasn't sure who he was, but within a few minutes of seeing him, I was sure that he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. Now remember, I wasn't exactly in cruising mode. I was frustrated, enraged and in pain, and still the man facing me took my goddamned breath away. He stood at least six-foot-four. The tight jeans and T-shirt he wore weren't intended to be sexy, but they were because he had a luscious body; hard, compact, muscular and lean. His hair was coal black and hung over his broad, square shoulders, settling on his back about halfway to an ass that could only be described as a delight to behold. And yes, I could see his ass, because he walked into the room and stood between me and the mirror. His eyes, well, they weren't brown, or even black. In fact, they looked blue, cobalt blue, and at the moment, it seemed as if there were sparks flying out of them.
I don't know who was angrier, him or I, but through the maze of all that hostility, my heart beat like a drum in my chest when he approached. "I believe you wanted to see me," he said. "I'm Ice."
When he spoke, his voice was deep and steady. I couldn't detect an accent, but from the creamy tan colour of his skin, he was definitely of Latin origin. My mind quickly reviewed the descriptions I'd received of him. Tall...yes, dark...yes. But the eyes were blue, damn it, dark blue, and as for the large package, umm...well, that appeared to be a fact. The jeans did nothing to disguise that he was hung like a horse.
"Fuller, I'm talking to you," he said. "What do you want?"
I snapped back to reality; the anger that had been simmering inside me now making a full recovery. "What in fuck is going on here?" I had some difficulty rising to my feet from where I sat on the bed. My leg hurt like hell. "How long do you intend to keep me cooped up in this room?"
He looked me over, then walked around the room as if he were appraising it. "What's wrong, cop? You're not happy with the accommodations?" He gave me a cheesy grin. "You prefer the Ritz?"
"Very funny. Why didn't you just kill me? What use am I to you?"
He lifted his hand for a moment. "I have no reason to kill you."
"You have no reason to bandage me up and feed me, either."
"Maybe I do," he said softly. He came to stand in front of me. He let his gaze move over me again, then slip back to my face. I think I blushed. I felt as if he'd just undressed me, raped me, then lit up a cigarette. "You're pretty fucked up, Fuller."
"I probably need a doctor. I might have a bullet in my leg."
"It went right through. You were lucky, it didn't hit the bone," he said without blinking.
I let myself study his face for a moment. It was a beautiful face, smooth angles, almost sculptured. Michelangelo would have wept painting him; creamed his pants first, then wept.
"How in the hell do you know that?"
"A doctor took a look at it."
"A doctor, too? Why go to all that trouble?" I eyed him suspiciously.
"Maybe I was concerned."
"Right. Now, what's the real reason?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You need a cane. I'll make sure you get one," he said, turning toward the door.
"Oh no," I said, reaching out and grabbing his arm.
He didn't yank it away, just turned around and glared at me. "Don't you ever grab me again, or I'll break your neck."
He never raised his voice. It still retained that calm, soft tone. Only his eyes gave him away. His emotions were written in those eyes of his, releasing lethal sparks again.
I let go of his arm and took a step back. "Fine. Just know this. I'm not staying in this room another day. So either kill me or let me out of here."
He pursed his lips for a moment, considering what I'd said. He nodded. "You'll sleep in my room."
Want more of DJ's books? Visit her website at http://www.djmanly.com/index.html