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290 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 20, 2015
Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. He has lived all over and along the way, he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director... but writing has ever been his bread and butter. He has been happily partnered for over a decade with the most loving, handsome, shrewd, hilarious, noble man to walk this planet.
Beyond romance fiction, Damon is an award-winning author who has been writing for print, stage, and screen for over three decades, which is both more and less glamorous than you might imagine. He's won some awards, but he counts his blessings more often: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.
Damon would love to hear from you... you can get in touch with him here.



“Ten bucks he’s some Wall Street gonk who’s seen too many thrillers. Scariest thing he deals with is silicone titties and erectile dysfunction.”

Their muscle and bone settled together by degrees, their bodies shifting subtly to accommodate each other. The fused strength, weight, and friction felt too right to put a price on. For the first time in his life, Ruben understood exactly what greed meant: a need so painful that it made the cost irrelevant, any price tag nonsensical. And not knowing the price, Ruben had no plan. Whatever came next, he’d take it and pay for it.


Never in his life had he made love so recklessly, reaching into someone while they reached back into him. This wasn’t getting off, but getting in or getting to each other. A gleaming bridge over acid and alligators. Their bodies knotted together surely, but something else besides: a terrible, bright knowing that made him feel broken and mended at the same moment.
I never knew.
"Easy, wonderbread."




["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>“S’good.” Bauer grunted. His fingers pulled the shirt tighter across Ruben’s chest. His ash-brown hair smelled like fresh bread.
A murmur in his ear and the scent of fresh bread.
Even rinsed Andy smelled like fresh bread.
Andy bumped him, smelling like fresh bread.
He could smell fresh bread and imagine lips against his neck.
He caught himself raising his hand to his nose and inhaling as if the fresh bread scent would linger, as if it had mingled with his own musk.
The bread smell was stronger with his face buried in Andy’s duvet…
In the dark someone moved toward him. A fresh bread kiss.


[Ruben contemplating a bunch of female strippers in an upper class night club]
Even the makeup had evolved into an exaggerated uniform war paint that made them all look like cloned sisters in some satanic cock-mangling sorority.
“Mr Bauer, you have something on your jacket.”
“Wha-?”
“Me.” Pressing close, Ruben kissed him and pushed his tongue into the surprised mouth.
The afterlife has the worst cell reception.
“Andy, I look like a convict.” He glanced over. “And you look like something convicts use to clean the john.”
“Man, you’re such a tool, they ought to sell you at Home Depot. I would like nothing more than to shove that chair up your ass sideways in front of all these nice people.”
“You think we’re joking? By the time the feds get to you, they’re gonna need a wet vac to clean you off the wallpaper.”

