Title: Full Disclosure
Series: Real Estate Relations: 1
Author: DJ Jamison
Publisher: DJ Jamison
Release Date: Sept. 14,2017
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 73,906
Genre: Romance, mystery/suspense, contemporary, small-town romance, LGBT
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Synopsis
A new real estate agent gets more than
he bargained with his first client ....
Camden
I'm desperate to make a fresh start as a
real estate agent after leaving my alcoholic boyfriend of way too long. Getting
a call to list a house while parading as a hot dog for a few bucks seems like
my lucky break. Then things go sideways. My apartment is broken into and
burglarized. Getting caught half-naked while squatting in my own listing is a
low point. Seeing the sexy-voiced stranger who is now my client -- and his
gorgeous, cold boyfriend? -- major bummer. But hey! I might sell a house ... if
we can ever get it in decent shape for the market and all the odd questions
surfacing about my client don't get in the way.
Reid
I'm a washed up US marshal turned
bodyguard, and even that's lost its appeal. A leave of absence to deal with a
house I inherited from my great-uncle seems like a good opportunity to get my
head straight. But then my boss pulls me aside and asks me to take on a witness
in danger. We'd be off the grid, so to speak. The guy is a criminal, but he's
young and gay, so we set up a cover as a couple. Might seem risky in Kansas,
but all the gossip about those gay guys will make a great smokescreen to our
true secret: Lee is a target of the Dragon Boyz gang, and I have to keep him
safe until trial. Of course, I wasn't counting on the gorgeous blond, blue-eyed
Realtor who makes me want something more in my life. When he starts asking
questions, do I set him straight or risk losing him for good? And then there's
still those gang members to think about.
Story includes inappropriate attire,
gunfights, flirting while in a fake relationship and male/male naughtiness.
Excerpt
Camden
I shimmied my hips, which in turn shook
my moneymaker.
Sadly, I wasn’t on the dance floor,
swishing for attention. I was wiggling and jiggling to reach my phone, which
was inconveniently positioned in the waistband of my briefs.
The phone rang — and vibrated — turning
my shimmy into a spastic hop.
People stared. Though that might have
been caused by the hot dog costume encasing me in a sweaty, straining mess
rather than the bun action going on. (See what I did there? Bun action. Ha, ha.
No, seriously. My life is a joke.)
The sidewalk baked under my feet, and
the thick, humid heat of Kansas summer hung heavy in the air. A fan inside the
costume kept me from heat stroke, but sweat still poured from my body. The
phone slipped and slid against my skin, evading my grasp.
My shoulder twinged with pain, but I
managed to pull the dang phone free.
“You’ve reached Camden Lewis,” I
answered breathlessly.
With luck, I sounded at least a bit
professional. I didn’t intend to be the hot dog in Dogs N Stuff’s marketing
campaign a minute longer than necessary.
I had already launched my new venture,
as a real estate agent, but business was a little slower getting off the ground
than I’d hoped. And my safety net — i.e. my well-paid boyfriend, Austin — was
no longer a viable option.
Thus, the humiliating, poorly paid work.
“You’re the real estate agent?”
“Yes!” I responded with a little too
much excitement. Clearing my throat, I tried to rein myself in. “Yes, sir, I
am. How might I help you today?”
“My name is Reid Bishop. I inherited the
place on Ivy Lane, owned by my great-uncle, Robert Winters? Have you heard of
it?”
Nope. “Yes, sir. Are you looking to sell
then?”
Please please please!
“I am. I live out of state, and I have
no idea what condition the property is in presently. I need an agent I can
trust to go check out the place and advise me on any steps I need to take to
prepare it for market. I will be coming to town in a week or two. I’m not sure
of the timetable just yet.”
Score!
“I can absolutely help you with that,
Mr. Bishop. There’s some paperwork to get the process started, even if you’re
not ready to go on market. I could fax that to your office?”
A loud, nasally voice interrupted my
surprise sales call.
“Cam! I’m not paying you to talk on the
phone!”
Damn. Dogs N Stuff’s manager, Mike
White, who thought supervising a fast-food restaurant made him hot shit, was
crossing the street at a jog.
“Fax works. Should I give you the number
now?” Reid Bishop asked, his deep baritone smooth as coffee in my ear.
I could listen to that voice all day.
But I didn’t have all day, or even all of a minute. Edging down the sidewalk, I
put more distance between me and Mike while talking fast.
“Actually, Mr. Bishop, I’m driving. On my way
to a showing. You know how it is, all work for us busy real estate agents! But
if you want to text the info, I’d be happy to get everything started when I get
back to the office.”
“Sure, sounds good. I normally do more
homework and check reviews, but I’ve got my hands full.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Bishop. If you’re not
satisfied with my work, you can withdraw the listing and work with another
agent. There’s very little risk.”
“Well, you sound like you know what
you’re talking about. Thank you.”
Yesss. Score 1 for the art of
bullshitting.
“Thank you. Talk to you again soon, sir.”
I ended the call not a second too soon.
“Cam!” Mike bellowed as he grabbed my
arm. “I pay you to work, not take calls. Hot dogs don’t have cell phones!”
I turned an irritated look on him. “Hot
dogs don’t have legs. Do you want me to cut off my legs?”
“What? No—”
“It was an emergency call. It won’t
happen again.”
God, please let it happen again.
If someone else called, maybe I’d
finally have enough clients to leave the hot dog business.
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