About The Book
The original Powertools crew is back in a brand new series!
When James was a kid, he aspired to be a superhero’s sidekick. He’s never enjoyed being the boss. Not on while working for the Powertools and not in his love life. Fortunately, his husband and wife are far better at assuming control than he is.
With each of his spouses stepping up to be the foreman of their own crews, James is left wondering what there is for a cute, hyper-organized, former construction worker to do in Middletown. Sure, he could play house husband for his spouses, and the rest of their sometimes lovers, while taking care of their ever-expanding family. But after decades of swinging a hammer for a paycheck, he’s hungry for a higher purpose.
James has read enough comic books to know he should be careful what he wishes for. Because when someone threatens one of their own, he will do anything—including calling in some of their more qualified friends to help—in order to figure out who wishes they would turn around and go home before they’ve barely unpacked their moving boxes.
This is a standalone book set in the Powertools universe. All your favorite Hot Rods and Hot Rides characters will be making appearances as well. So come make new book boyfriends or hang out with old ones!
Additional Information
Sign up for the Naughty News for contests, release updates, news, appearance information, sneak peek excerpts, reading-themed apparel deals, and more. www.jaynerylon.com/newsletter
Shop for autographed books, reading-themed apparel, goodies, and more www.jaynerylon.com/shop
A complete list of Jayne’s books can be found at www.jaynerylon.com/books
1
James sat behind the steering wheel of the sensible hybrid sedan he drove to and from work. He’d just pulled into his driveway after a never-ending day. He didn’t have the energy to get out and inspect the damage he’d done to one of his spiffy retro hubcaps when he’d accidentally backed over a four by four on his construction site earlier that afternoon. It was probably just a scratch. At least that was what he’d told himself as he’d turned up the radio to obscure the metallic grinding noise the wheel made during his trip home. He’d have one of their mechanic friends at Hot Rods take a look at it the next time he was over at their garage.
He didn’t want to give his husband or wife the satisfaction of saying I told you so since they’d gently pointed out that his teeny vehicle might not be that well-suited to his profession.
Okay, so its low clearance and stock tires were better suited to the paved parking lots of upscale organic markets than muddy, raw terrain dotted with construction debris. It reminded him of a termite trying to lift an entire log by itself—underpowered, out of its league, and too cute for all that mess and chaos. But then again, so was he.
James posing as a foreman of his own crew… It just wasn’t a good fit.
No matter how hard he tried to force himself into a hard hat mold, it ended up more like attempting to stuff that square four by four he’d turned into a speed bump into a round hole that also just happened to be his ass. He winced, imagining being impaled by mega-splinters and the mortifying emergency room visit that would ensue if he tried something so unwise. Cringe.
Even a stunt like that would still be less painful than compelling himself to get up and go to a job he despised, day after day after day.
He’d barely survived today and it was only Monday. The thought of having to do it over again in another twelve hours made his stomach churn. Dread sapped energy from him, leaving him deflated. His forehead drooped onto his arms, which were draped over the steering wheel.
The twenty years or so he had left in him before retirement seemed like an eternity when he considered it might be like this all the damn time. He collected what scraps of motivation he had remaining and attempted to muster enough give-a-damn to propel himself into the house, but it was no use.
He probably had been sitting there for nearly a half an hour when his wife Devon rolled into the driveway of the house their friends Joe and Morgan had rented, which they were all sharing for a bit until they could figure out the long-term logistics of their move to Middletown.
Devon emerged from the monstrous black pickup she’d purchased. Somehow the sprays of mud over its sleek paint job seemed like artistic decorations instead of like battle wounds as they did on his car. They’d had to invest in three separate vehicles now that James, Devon, and their husband, Neil, needed to get to their individual construction sites each day. He’d much preferred it when they’d shared a ride for all the years they’d worked on the same crew together.
Despite his foul mood, James perked up at the sight of Devon. She was sexy as fuck for a pixie of a woman—who made him seem almost normal-sized since he was miniature compared to the rest of the hulking, studly men on the crew—and tougher than he’d ever attempt to be. Despite her diminutive frame, she hopped out of the truck without bothering to step on the shiny chrome running board, as he would have.
A cloud of dirt puffed from her construction boots, making James even mopier. She’d been doing sweaty things, bossing people around and being capable in charge and he hadn’t been there to see it.
Neil pulled up a moment later, lurching to a stop faster than was wise on the other side of James’s relatively micro-mobile. James might as well have been at the bottom of a canyon between their two behemoth pick-ups.
Out of place.
No longer a pea in their threesome pod. Instead he felt like a turtle trying to cross a highway. One that was about to get flattened. He wished he could pull his head inside his shell and hide, but that wouldn’t save him from the reality barreling down on him.
This wasn’t going to work. He simply couldn’t do it. His guts knotted.
When Devon realized he wasn’t getting out of the car, she rounded the hood and tapped on the window. “You okay?”
No. No, I’m not.
James nodded. He forced his ten-ton arms to unbuckle his seatbelt and somehow summoned the power to open the door before swinging his legs out.
Neil was there, laughing, to scoop James up and toss him over his shoulder like a sack of cement. “A hard day at work, huh?”
James grunted, though he didn’t squirm out of Neil’s hold. Not when all he wanted was to get closer to the other man. He hugged Neil’s back as if there was any chance his husband would drop him.
“I have to admit, I never gave Mike enough credit,” Devon chimed in as they approached the house, still blissfully unaware of James’s rising panic and despair. “Being a foreman takes a lot of mental energy, to handle the management part of it all and then be a member of the crew in addition. It’s a lot.”
“Whew. It really is.” Neil groaned. “We owe him a turn being in the center of attention next time the whole crew gets together.”
James didn’t argue with them. Not when he could hardly lift his head. Then again, this had never been his dream. Worse, he wasn’t sure what had been. He’d sort of fallen into the crew, following along with his friends, and he was willing to admit now that being with likeminded partners had been the glue that had kept him there, not some burning desire to build shit or work with his hands.