Inheritance by Sean Michael | Cat's Release day Review, Excerpt & #giveaway @Dreamspinners @seanmichael09

3rd Edition

Cash McCord’s life is pretty much perfect. He owns the family ranch, loves his work, and invites the occasional cowboy into his bed. But everything is turned upside down when his brother Jack and Jack’s wife Val are killed in a car crash, leaving behind six kids.

Cash is made guardian of the children, along with Val’s brother, Brad Rafferty—a man who couldn’t be more different from Cash if he tried. A Yankee, Brad is a video-game developer who works twelve-to-fourteen-hour days at his desk. They lock horns as soon as they set eyes on each other. Neither man is happy to have the other around, but neither is willing to give up custody of his nieces and nephews.

It’s up to these two polar opposites to keep the kids together and give them a family again. But first they’ll have to keep from killing each other.

First Edition published as Inheritance in Family Matters by Torquere Press, 2008.
Second Edition published by Torquere Press, 2013.

Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon

Cat gives this one 4 Meows...

Warning: Grab some tissue!

Cash McCord's brother has died in a car accident with his wife Val leaving their six kids in joint custody to him and Brad, Val's brother. There are six children 13 and under...one set of twins. He finds out Brad is also gay. The problem is that Brad doesn't want to uproot the kids from their lovely home and school to hundreds of miles away to Texas and Cash doesn't want to lose the family ranch. They can't split up the kids.

Mix a sexy cowboy with a hot computer nerd, toss in six kids let simmer with some tears and humor, add the meddling grandma and toss it up, frost with some hot man-sex you have the recipe for one fun book!

Another warning---Tiny kids say funny things---don't eat or drink while reading. Your reading device will thank you for not spewing on it.

Excerpt...

He put the baby down and followed Brad down to the kitchen. Brad got them each a beer and then led him to the den and the matching easy chairs. Just right.

“You think this is going to get any easier?” Brad asked.

“There are six little kids that someone has to put through college. It’s not going to get easier.”

“Some sleep would help.” Brad took a long drag from his beer.

“Yeah.” Cash actually grinned but shook his head at the same time. “I want to take the kids home with me, man. Jackie loved the ranch.” Hell, he didn’t even know what Brad did for a living.

Brad shook his head. “Uproot them again, right now? Just like that? Take them away from everything and everyone they know?” Brad leaned in. “Val loved this house. Loved their life.”

“And she got everything she wanted, man. Jack moved for her, gave it up for her. I don’t have any family left.”

“No family? What are those babies? They’re yours as much as they’re mine.”

“That’s what I mean, man.” Cash leaned in too, meeting Brad’s eyes. “They’re all I got left. Let me take them home.” He couldn’t live up here in the midst of all these Yankees.

“I can’t let you take them. I love them too, Cash.”

“Well, then, what the hell are we going to do?” He couldn’t walk away from them.

Brad rubbed his face. “I don’t know, Cash. I just don’t know.”

“Well, at least we’re on the same page, huh?” He drank deep, letting the booze hit his throat. “Goddamn Jackie anyway.”

Brad nodded. “Goddamn them both.” Eyes closed, Brad sat back.

“So what do you do, man?” Jack never talked much about Val’s people, never let much on about the big guy.

“Software developer. Games.”

“Wow.” He guessed those folks needed to be smart. God knew he was the poor relation around here.

“It pays the bills. Val always said it figured I’d pick a job where I could keep being a kid.” Brad’s face twisted. “God, what I wouldn’t give to have her bitch at me one more time.”

“Yeah, she could rant and rave some.” He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Jackie was almost nineteen when our dad died. He… he was good to me.”

“Shit, he died in a car accident too, didn’t he? Jack didn’t talk about it much.”

“Yeah. Truck flipped.” He drank again, keeping his eyes open, not blinking a bit.

“Man, I’m sorry.” Brad finished off his drink. “How old were you?”

“Nine.” Same age as Belle.

“Damn. This has to be like that same nightmare all over again.”

“Something like that, except then I had Jack to help me.” Now he had those babies.

“Yeah, well you’re not on your own now either.” Brad chuckled a little. “Even if we’re not each other’s first choice.”

“I have a ranch. The family place.” There had to be something they could manage.

“Give it a rest, Cash. We don’t have to settle it tonight.”

“Bossy bastard.” He chuckled, though, head falling back against the cushions. “Shit, a week ago I was fixin’ to get laid by the sweetest little cowboy….”

“You’re gay?”

Cash looked over, eyebrows arching. He wasn’t in the closet, not with Jackie. “Yeah, and if you think for a goddamn second I’ll let anyone hold it against me….”

Brad snorted and shook his head. “Keep your pants on, Cowboy. I’m trying to figure out why it never came out. Up. Although given they obviously never told you about me either….”

“No. No, Jackie and I were always busy.” Always goofing off. Fishing. Riding.

“Yeah, well, now we both know.”

“Yeah, I reckon.” He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew.

Brad finished off his beer. “Man, I don’t think I can move. I might spend the rest of the night right here.”

“Yeah.” He understood that. “That should be okay, huh? The kids’ll find us.”

“The TV’s in here, isn’t it? They’ll be able to find us fine.”

Brad stretched out, body long, muscles in all the right places and showed off nicely in the boxers and T-shirt. Cash sighed, eyelids drooping as he gazed at Brad, and started to doze off. Soft snores threatened to keep him from actually sleeping.

“Christ, man. Don’t make me smother you.”

He didn’t have to, though; he was too tired to do more than crash.

A prolific author, Sean Michael takes notes dictated by the men who live in his head and shares their stories. Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to Chicago. A long-time writer of complicated haiku, Sean is currently attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate-spinning and soap-carving sex toys. Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark. To learn more about Sean, please visit: www.seanmichaelwrites.com.

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