Sneak Peek: Any World That I’m Welcome To (Suncoast Society)

Here’s a sneak peek at Any World That I’m Welcome To (Suncoast Society 53, MMF, BDSM) by Tymber Dalton. Releases on Friday, 6/23/2017!

http://www.bookstrand.com/book/any-world-that-im-welcome-to

Blurb:

Neil isn’t just Tamsin’s gay best friend and roommate—he’s her Dom and adopted family. While she jokes she’d love to watch him and Dexter, her fiancé and Dom, together in bed, she knows that’ll never happen.

Dexter isn’t jealous of Neil. As a paramedic, Dexter frequently spends days away from Tamsin. Plus, the older Dom is as much a mentor to Dexter as he is a friend. Neil’s never made a secret about his attraction to Dexter, even though he knows nothing will ever happen since Dexter’s straight.

Then a drunk driver shatters their world, leaving Neil to step in and pick up the pieces for Dexter and Tamsin. They might never get her “back,” but Neil’s sworn to take care of her. Now the men are forced to forge deeper, stronger bonds both to take care of Tamsin…and each other.

As their love grows, one question remains unanswered: What happens to them if or when Tamsin wakes up?


Chapter One

“Well, this is something I’ve never quite seen before,” Dexter snarked.

He and fellow paramedic, Wade, stood beside the road and stared up at the large oak tree.

Currently wedged in its branches, about twenty feet up, was a small Acura street racer. From the extremely vocal pleas for help coming from the two occupants, they suspected the men were likely miraculously lacking in life-threatening injuries.

But Wade and Dexter couldn’t get up there to assess them until the guys on the truck got a ladder positioned and ropes securing the car so they could climb up and check on them.

“Get us down! Please!”

Wade held up a hand to the driver. “Are you injured?”

“No, I don’t think so. The air bags went off. Can’t you get us down?”

“Noooo,” Dexter softly muttered. “We’re going to leave your drunk asses up there as a warning to other idiots. Dumbasses. What do they think we’re going to do?”

Wade held out a fist for a bump and Dexter returned it.

The passenger puked out his window, barely missing the firemen below trying to position a ladder.

Wade shook his head. “Yeeeaaah, I’m not going up there, sorry. They can bring their puking asses down first. They’re moving around. They aren’t seriously injured. Shelton’s an EMT. He can evaluate them while he’s up there.”

Twenty minutes later, the two men, both of them nineteen and highly intoxicated, based on the smell of their breath, were being carefully helped down a ladder.

The driver, once on the ground, promptly puked on a deputy’s shoes.

Dexter snorted. “Yeah, that’ll help,” he whispered to Wade.

Other than facing a slew of charges, starting with DUI, underaged drinking, reckless driving, and street racing, all of which would probably cause revocation of their driver’s licenses and a complete and utter obliteration of their and their parents’ bank accounts, they were relatively unharmed. The passenger had a small scalp lac from where he’d bumped his head on the window, but it was easily patched up.

This could have been infinitely worse and horrific.

“I almost wish we didn’t have to transport the idiots,” Wade said. “I’d love to see how they get that freaking thing out of the damn tree.”

Dexter snorted. “In this neighborhood? Strap it to the tree so it can’t fall out, and it could be called an art installation.”

They exchanged another fist bump.

“How much do you have to drink, exactly, to get your car into a tree from a flat road that’s at or near sea level?” Wade asked.

“Way more than my liver can safely absorb. That’s for damn sure.”

* * * *

Fortunately, once he and Wade checked out the two knuckleheads and discerned that they weren’t seriously injured, the sheriff’s deputies handcuffed the kids and took over transporting them to the hospital.

That meant they could sit there and wait and enjoy the show, presumably in case anyone got hurt trying to get the car out of the tree.

“This livened up a boring Tuesday night, huh?” Wade asked.

Dexter nodded. “Sure did. Nothing I like more than sitting on a street at two a.m. and watching wrecker drivers seeing if they can turn a tree into a car catapult.”

He saw two wrecker drivers who’d received the rotation call staring at the tree, one of them talking on a cell phone.

“Bet they have to get one of those semi wreckers in here. One of those big ones with a boom on it.”

“Yeah?” Wade asked.

“Sure. Drag it out.”

“At least they didn’t land in a canal or in a retention pond or something.” Wade shuddered. “I had to handle one of those a couple of weeks ago when you were off, you lucky bastard. Eighty-three-year-old woman hit the gas instead of the brake, ended up backing into the water hazard at the golf course across the street from her house. Water up to my hips. Fortunately, she survived. It was shallow. Fucking alligators and water moccasins. Blech. That’s my big fear.”

“Yeah, I hate those,” Dexter said. “Swampy area on a golf course last month. Nearly lost a damn shoe.”

“I heard about that one.”

“What is it with golf courses?” Dexter asked.

“I dunno. We have a shit-ton of them around here, that’s for sure.”

A few minutes later, sure enough, a third wrecker arrived, and the three drivers conferred, along with the lead deputy on the scene and a firefighter, about the best way to proceed.

Wade nudged him. “Five bucks says they take out that fire hydrant trying to get the car down.”

Dexter craned his head to look. “Oooh. Won’t take that bet. I think you’re right.”

Twenty minutes later, the car was out of the tree…and fortunately Dexter and Wade had the sense of mind to move the ambulance farther down the block before they’d attempted it.

The water company was on the way to shut off the water main and repair the broken hydrant. Which Dexter knew would truly endear the two little shit drivers to all the residents along the road who’d be without water coming up on morning.

But at least they were now free to return to the station.

“They had a pretty good first bounce there, though, when the cable slipped,” Wade said as he drove. “That’s got to be worth at least an eight.”

“Yeah, but the Russian judge would have deducted style points.”

They both laughed.


ICYMI:


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