• Misha Horne

Josh and Damon are Back! (On December 26th) But You Can Preorder Now!

Yes, you heard that correctly! Josh and Damon are back! (In just a few more days. Sorry, I'm a horrible tease.) Book Two in the Not So Series, Not So Nice will go live on December 26th!

These poor guys try to maneuver their-relationship-that-is-not-a-relationship while dealing with the messes in their own lives. They're stubborn, and they struggle, but they finally get headed in the right direction. ;) 

This weekend only, you can preorder Not So Nice at a special preorder price, and if you haven't read book one in the series, Not So Smart is on sale as well! These do need to be read in order, and Not So Nice picks up right where Not So Smart left off, so if you're the rereading type, now is probably the time! :)

“I do not have feelings for Damon Price.”

JOSH Not the kind he wants me to, anyway. Just because I agreed to stick around for now doesn’t mean I’m interested in more than just a good time. This is still purely physical, no matter what he thinks.

Yeah, I like how possessive he is. But I’d rather break his rules than follow them. And I like how demanding he is. But only when it comes to the bedroom. If he expects things to be different now, just because I maybe, sort of like him a little, he doesn’t get me as well as he claims to.

I know exactly what I need my life to be like to keep from going off the deep end. I need to be in charge. I need to be in control. Even when I’m on my knees. Maybe I had a moment of weakness and let things get personal. Maybe it even felt good. But I never wanted that before, and I’m not going to let him change me.

I don’t do boyfriends. I don’t date. And I sure as hell don’t sleep over. I’d like to see him try and make me.

“I do not have feelings for Josh Holloway.”

DAMON I shouldn’t, anyway. Not if I had any self respect. But apparently, when it comes to him, there’s a lot more I want than just a good time. Even if I’m not sure why.

Yeah, I like how obnoxious he is. Even if it makes me want to smack him. And I like how he’s up for anything, anytime, anywhere. As long as we’re naked. But if he thinks I’m going to let him keep me at arm’s length much longer, he’s sorely mistaken.

My last couple years have been hell. When I wasn’t barely hanging on, I was too numb to feel a damn thing. But now suddenly a kinky, mouthy brat practically falls into my lap, and I feel everything. Things I don’t know how to feel, and yeah, I’m a mess. But, I am not going back to being miserable.

I don’t do boyfriends. I don’t date. I sure as hell don’t beg guys to spend the night. Until now. I’m going to make him mine and make him love it. I’d like to see him try and stop me. ————— In the second book in the Not So series, Josh and Damon struggle to find a way to peel away some of the layers between them while still keeping their walls up and their hearts safe. Figuring out what they want from each other is almost as hard as figuring out what they need from themselves.

The 110,00 word romance features two damaged college guys who absolutely, positively are not boyfriends, a date that is not a date, some kink discovery no one’s quite ready to talk about, belts, bookstores, brownies, and a heavy dose of angst as they both do their best to try and gut it out through holidays they’d really rather ignore without falling apart and needing each other.

Please note, this book includes some scenes of characters still learning how to deal with lingering grief during the holidays. 

**This book is NOT a standalone and this series must be read in order. Not So Nice is a direct sequel and picks up immediately where Not So Smart ends. Not So Nice ends on a soft cliffhanger. Josh and Damon’s story will continue in Not So Bad.

An angsty virgin who might be a little twisted. A moody manwhore who might be a little lonely. All they wanted was to use each other for one dirty, kinky night.

Feelings were never supposed to be part of the plan.

Need to catch up with this the Not So Series? Discover how Josh and Damon first got together in Book One of the series, Not So Smart-- on sale for just 99¢ this weekend!

Hey Peeps,

So, on a personal note, I just want to thank everyone who stuck by me while I finished this book. I know it took much longer than expected, and some of you have been waiting quite a while. While I always draw from my own life in every book, I found myself in a strange situation where my life suddenly mirrored a character's struggles so closely it became too raw and difficult to write about. Getting back to a place where I could finish it was challenging, and took me on a detour through two other books (Working Out the Kinks and Looking for Trouble) before I could get there. I'm so proud of how it ultimately turned out, and I'm thrilled everyone seems to be excited for this book despite the long delay. You're all the best! (Except that person who emailed me over and over to call me a lazy c*nt. You really suck.) My beta readers have called this the most emotional book I've written to date (and also called me some very not so nice names for making them have feelings, lol. ;) ) so I really hope you all enjoy it. It's filled with kinky, sexy times and surprise sweetness, and some humor, but there's some heavy stuff there too. It's definitely not a fluffy holiday read (nothing new there, lol) and the guys do their best to deal with some lingering grief and family issues. That's not the point of the book, but it does shape who they are and how they act, and figuring out how to deal with stuff like that while falling in looooove is part of their story. If tough emotions aren't your thing during the holidays, that's totally fine, and I've been there. It's what kept me away from this book for so long, TBH. Take care of yourselves, this time of year and always. <3

So, Misha, when do we get Book 3??? Excellent question, imaginary internet audience. Book 3 in the series, Not So Bad, is already at 60k-- it's shaping up to be even longer than this one, so it's probably about half done. Release date is TBD at the moment, but ASAP, at the earlier part of 2019 is the goal! Not gonna even skirt around it, Not So Bad is already my favorite of the three. Yeah there's more tough times. Yeah, there's some of that kink they were starting to think about exploring in Not So Nice (you'll know the one in a few days!) and yeah a lot of feelings finally get spilled when they get forced to do things that are super outside their comfort zones. These guys don't make it easy, but I promise their hard fought HEA is gonna be SUPER WORTH IT. :)

Anyhow. How about a sneak peak of Not So Nice Chapter One!? :) This picks up immediately following the end of Not So Smart, so, spoilers, I guess, lol. And it won't make much sense if you haven't read book 1!

Sneak Peek of Not So Nice!


He really thought he could sneak out without waking me up.

Like I’d sleep through hours of his shallow, anxious breathing, and through every joint in his body popping when he climbed out of my bed. Sleep through him swearing under his breath when he knelt down and banged into the bedside table, looking for his tie— crumpled on the floor, no doubt, where I’d dropped it after I untied him. Not much chance he was wearing that thing to Thanksgiving dinner now.

I knew he hadn’t slept a second more than I had, which was none. I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to sleep again, because that would involve not obsessing over what I’d just done or wondering who the hell I was to be acting this way with him.

I’d really had no fucking idea how to respond to him not grabbing his clothes and bolting when I told him I wanted more than he was giving. Last thing in the world I expected was for him to say I’ll try instead of Fuck you.

I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d wanted something enough to ask for it, and sure didn’t remember how I was supposed to act when I got it. For all my I don’t chase guys bullshit, I’d been enjoying this game more than I wanted to admit. Hell if I knew what we were playing now.

I wasn’t sure I’d explained myself so well, saying how much it hurt to be around him, how much I didn’t like having to feel this way, didn’t want to keep wanting him so much. He seemed to understand. At least not enough to run. Enough to give me something, and when I was used to getting nothing, something felt like a hell of a lot.

And fucking him long and slow and lazy, working him up until I knew he liked it too, that was fucking everything.

Still didn’t mean we knew what to say to each other once I turned out the light. For a while, we’d shifted around a little, sharing my bed in silence. Just regular quiet at first, and then it got stupid and then awkward and then fucking ridiculous. But I’d gotten what I wanted out of him, and I was afraid to give him any opening to leave or change his mind, because having a warm body next to me, talking or not, was too good to gamble with. I was scared as fuck to say another word about anything.

So, I’d just laid there listening to him breathing, and to me breathing, and to the music thumping up from the neighbors underneath me who always complained about my goddamn music, and let more hours pass that way than we’d probably ever spent together total.

Wondering if he thought I was sleeping. Wondering what he’d do if I really was sleeping because I was a bed hog that sprawled all over the mattress, who woke up about a dozen times a night to pace around the house, and I was pretty sure I might snore in the hours in between.

I was probably the worst guy in the world to sleep with. Except sleeping with someone wasn’t really the same as sleeping next to them. I didn’t actually have any proof of that, but it seemed like if you were sleeping with someone, you could get close, and whisper, and touch and say things ways you maybe wouldn’t in the daytime. Seemed like sleeping with someone could maybe feel pretty good if you did it right. Which we obviously were not.

I’d had him right there, that fucking close, and I’d stalled out. Couldn’t get up the nerve to just roll over and put my goddamn arm around him.

Just like I couldn’t get up the nerve to ask him where the fuck he thought he was going, sneaking out of my bed a few hours later. Instead, I just stayed still, kept acting like I was sleeping, watching him move around in the dark like I was some kind of creep.

I’d never gotten around to hanging the curtains anywhere but my bedroom, and the cheap sheets tacked up through the rest of the place didn’t do much to block out the light— moonlight, or neon, or other. One day I’d fix that, finish what I’d started and stop living like I didn’t give a shit about anything. Maybe. But laying there while Josh attempted his quick, quiet exit that was somehow awkward and smooth at the same time, like everything about him, I was glad I hadn’t gotten motivated to hang more curtains yet.

The light that bled in through my open bedroom door made his pale skin just about glow. Made every cut of muscle, every bump along his spine, every shadow in every curve look high contrast, like an old newspaper photo. Made him look sleek and slick and fragile and beautiful standing there, and who the fuck would choose curtains and darkness over that?

He stretched his long arms up over his head, naked and perfect, and I watched him loop his wrinkled tie around his neck, the same way I’d watched him do it hours before, in that asshole men’s clothing store. Knotting the silk with the same bored flicks of his fingers, reminding me that the whiny, pushy, fumbling brat I knew was only one sliver of who he actually was.

There were so many parts of him— almost everything— that came up blank for me when I tried to fill them in. I didn’t know where he was running to before the sun even came up, didn’t know who he was putting that tie on for. Though, all you needed was a calendar to make a pretty good guess. Some people still dressed up for Thanksgiving dinner. Blond brats who carried Prada backpacks to school were pretty likely those people.

He worked a little shimmy as he adjusted the knot, a wiggle that showed off his bony shoulders and smooth back and bouncy, biteable ass that I was so not finished with. Watching him get ready to leave from beneath my barely open eyelids made me ugly-lonely, that way that makes your stomach echo and bile burn up your throat. I wasn’t sure how much of that really had to do with him and how much was just me being slowly poisoned by another year coming to a close like everything was normal.

Either way, it sucked.

Wasn’t like he was meant to fill the empty feeling in my gut, or that I wanted him to. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, today of all days. And yet. I sure did wish he would stay. That we could blow off a stupid holiday that nobody even liked anyway, and just roll around in this disaster and sort it out. Just forget what day it was and fuck for hours until we couldn’t keep our eyes open and then practice sleeping with each other.

I might not have known what the hell I was trying to start with him, but I knew I didn’t want him going anywhere. I wanted to grab him, pull him back under the sheets, move backwards through time and reacquaint myself with every inch of his body, look over all the damage I’d done.

All the damage he’d done to me.

But, instead of opening my mouth and saying Don’t go yet, or When will you be back, or even Just let me fuck you one more time real quick, I watched him walk out my bedroom door, wearing nothing but that stupid tie, not even glancing back in my direction. Like he couldn’t care less about leaving.

My chest hurt again and my heart beat too fast as I laid there in the dark trying not to move, straining my ears to pick out every sound he made as he crept around my living room like a burglar, finding his clothes and getting dressed in a rush that made him clumsy. I could hear his feet stuttering on the hardwood as he tripped over himself, and the sound made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut because god, he was just irresistible when he was awkward and what was that even.

So fucking not my type.

When he sat down on the couch and it creaked like an old haunted door, I swear I heard his tiny intake of breath, like he was panicked he might wake me. Or maybe I just imagined I heard it. Didn’t matter. I knew damn well it happened.

That would have been an excellent time to force myself out of bed. Go in there, say something, anything, before he finished tying his stupid fancy shoes and left. But, that would have involved words, and I still didn’t have any.

The best thing I could do, the smartest thing I could do was let him leave. Not give myself any early morning, overemotional opportunity to fuck up this bizarre, precarious thing we’d built, whatever it was. I was already fucking stomping on thin ice. My next move needed to be calculated first. Weighed out word for word so I didn’t end up looking like the in-way-over-his-head asshole that I obviously very much was.

I wasn’t desperate. I didn’t think. But true or false, I was already asking for too much, and it wasn’t anywhere near enough. So, I left it alone.

I felt almost numb listening to him stealth out my front door, the chains rattling as he pulled it shut behind him, putting a time stamp on the end of the night that felt more final than I liked. I hated the way I ached to go after him, chase him down the stairs and ask him what the fuck he was doing just leaving me.

Didn’t even need to have my eyes open to see sad cliche tattooed all the fuck over that.

* * * I knew I needed to get up, make sure the door had caught right, since it stuck sometimes. Needed to turn the deadbolt, pull the chains, do the things people did to lock the door behind someone when they left. But when I slid across the bed and the side Josh had pretended to sleep on was still a little bit warm, that was as far as I could seem to move. The last of his heat, the last of his scent held me there.

I settled into the spot where he’d laid for hours, absorbing the sweet smell of sex and sweat and too much damn hair product— the gluey mess that lingered on my hands after I grabbed his hair and pulled it hard through my fingers, that was becoming one of my favorite smells in the world real damn quick.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for leaving, and for having somewhere to go, and for wanting to be there more than he wanted to be laying in bed with me.

I slid my hand down my stomach and curled it hard around my dick, imagining my fist was his fist. His mouth. His tight, hot ass squeezing me so hard it hurt in the best goddamned way. I closed my eyes, and imagined his lips on me, licking and sucking, slow and thorough like I’d done to him, and Jesus Christ, how had I ended up here? How did one rough fuck to make sure my dick still worked turn into this?

Alone in the dark, I could feel his smooth skin that I’d suddenly become too afraid to touch. Taste the mix of me and sour candy on his tongue. Hear the soft, uncertain way he’d said I’ll try when I’d asked him not to be my boyfriend. Whatever that meant.

Just what the fuck kind of mess was I even into?

Not So Nice Goes Live December 26th!

Preorder now!

And have an excellent end of the year! <3

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