Blaize and the Paramedic (MM) by Cara Adams The Millionaire's Grandsons book 3

Blaize and the Paramedic (MM) by Cara Adams
The Millionaire's Grandsons book 3

Just as everyone had predicted Michael Carmichael’s outright refusal to listen to common sense led to a huge cyber security breach. Locke Parkes’ crippled brother Prince relies on his laptop for social interaction. He’d been surfing the Carmichael Industries website at the time the cyber security was breached and his laptop froze. Locke takes the laptop to the company asking for help from their IT staff to get it working again.
Blaize Carmichael is determined that those whose electronics were damaged will be helped, no matter what his grandfather says. When he sees Locke, he offers Prince the loan of an old laptop until Prince’s can be fixed.
Neither of them ever expected to see each other again. After all a millionaire’s grandson would never have anything in common with a paramedic. Besides, Locke would never leave Prince, not even for his own happiness.

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/blaize-and-the-paramedic

STORY EXCERPT

Blaize left his grandfather’s office and marched to the elevator. It was waiting at the top floor, and he took it all the way down to the ground. He noticed a man standing by the reception desk, talking to a security guard there, and the receptionist and security guard shaking their heads at him. Normally he would have continued walking straight out the door, but something in the resigned slump of the man’s shoulders made him change direction and cross over to the desk.
“Is there a problem, Henry?” he asked the security guard.
“No, sir, Mr. Carmichael. This gentleman is just about to leave.”
“Carmichael? Mr. Carmichael?” The man turned huge, pleading, dark brown eyes toward him.
Blaize couldn’t resist those eyes. He stuck out his right hand and said, “Blaize Carmichael. Can I help you?”
The man juggled an old-fashioned laptop bag onto his left arm and shook Blaize’s hand. “I’m Locke Parkes, Mr. Carmichael, sir. My older brother has cerebral palsy and is wheelchair-bound. He spends most of his time on the Internet where he talks to his friends and, well anyway, he was browsing the Carmichael Industries website at nine a.m. yesterday looking for one of your original engineering designs, when—”
Blaize instantly knew what was coming next. His laptop had become infected with one or another of the many viruses the IT company was still busy cleaning up.
Exactly as he’d guessed, the man continued, “His computer is completely locked. Something on your website has infected Prince’s laptop, and it’s unusable. I hoped your IT people could fix it for him.”
“I’ve already explained to the gentleman, sir, that his brother’s computer problems have nothing to do with us,” said Henry.
But Blaize was very much afraid that this man’s computer problems, and possibly dozens of other people’s computer problems as well, were indeed going to be their problem.
“It’s okay, Henry. I’ll take Mr. Parkes up to IT.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. Having access to the Internet means everything to Prince. Since he’s wheelchair-bound, and I’m at work all day, the Internet is how he communicates.”
Blaize nodded, not really listening. He was already convinced their damn website had probably infected any number of people’s devices, and fixing the problem was going to be hellishly expensive. Damn Grandpa’s obstinacy. The man’s a public nuisance!
The IT department should have been half-empty since the departure of his brother, Quade, and Quade’s second-in-command, PJ, but the IT company, still hard at work cleaning up their data and computer systems, seemed to fill every inch of the spacious room. There were snaking lines of cables along the floor, half a dozen open laptops with data scrolling across the screens, and four IT techs, their heads bowed low over their own computers.
Parkes stopped still in the doorway looking down at his feet, but Blaize picked his way through the room to the head geek, cleared his throat, and said, “Rick, we have another problem.”
The head geek stared at him. Blaize knew the man was about the same age as him, thirty-four, but he looked as if he was barely out of high school with pimples on his cheeks, forehead, and nose, huge black-framed eyeglasses, and battered athletic shoes on his large feet. Still, he was making headway against a vast number of viruses, scams, phishing attacks, and hell only knew what else, so Blaize didn’t care what he looked like as long as he could save Carmichael Industries’ data.
“What’s the problem?”
Blaize beckoned Mr. Parkes over. “Tell Rick your story.”
Parkes’ curly black hair bounced as he nodded and said, “This is my brother’s laptop, sir. He was surfing the Carmichael Industries’ website at nine a.m. yesterday when it locked up, and he can’t use it. His laptop is his entire life, sir. He has cerebral palsy and is wheelchair-bound, and I work all day and can’t be with him, so all his friends and activity is via the Internet. And now his computer has been damaged by this company’s website, and I hope, I need… please, sir, you have to fix it. He’s completely alone and helpless without it.”
“How does your brother know it was this website that caused it? Maybe it was something else he had open at the same time?” said Rick.
Parkes shook his head. “No, sir. Prince only has the use of his right hand and almost never has more than one window open at once because toggling between sites is difficult for him. Besides, his laptop is no longer new, and it’s too slow if too many browsers are open at once. He has all day and nothing else to do, so doing one thing at a time is perfect for him. His hand doesn’t ache, and he can get full enjoyment out of each individual step.”
Blaize stared at Parkes, closing his mouth with a snap. What an incredible attitude this man—and presumably his brother—had, making his disability into something that gave him pleasure. Instead of moaning about an old laptop, or about not being able to use both hands, here he was reveling in going slowly and enjoying the journey. In that moment Blaize determined to help him, even if it wasn’t a Carmichael Industries problem. Although he was almost certain it would be a company problem. The whole “nine a.m.” thing was the key. That was the exact time the IT security program had expired.

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/blaize-and-the-paramedic

Devin and the Dancer (MM) The Millionaire's Grandsons Book 2

Devin and the Dancer (MM) by Cara Adams
The Millionaire's Grandsons Book 2

Blurb: Devin Carmichael goes to the gay bar to clear his head after arguing with his grandfather about the old man refusing to accept advice. First his cousin Quade, then the head of IT, and now Devin himself have tried to make the old man understand the need for advanced cyber protection. But the owner of Carmichael Industries isn’t listening. When a lithe, attractive man asks Devin to dance he isn’t going to say no.
One glance at Mr. Dark, Dominant, and Delicious has Ty Glenn determined to meet him. He’s just the kind of man that makes Ty’s pulses flutter and his blood pump. The chemistry between them extends beyond just their hot and sexy dancing. Booking a room upstairs to get to know each other better in private is the obvious next step...

Buy Link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/devin-and-the-dancer

STORY EXCERPT

He had a thick head of black hair, heavy black eyebrows over dark brown eyes, and looked as though he’d be deliciously dominant in bed. Mr. Dark, Dominant, and Delicious was just exactly what Ty needed to make the evening perfect.
Ty walked over to the bar, where the dark-haired man sat on a stool facing the dance floor, not the bar itself. Ty stood as close as he dared to his quarry, his knees almost touching the bigger man’s. “Hi, handsome. Wanna buy me a drink?”
“Do you dance?”
“I love dancing.” That was the absolute truth. In his early teens, Ty had even considered making dancing his career, but he wasn’t sufficiently talented. However, that hadn’t quashed his love for dancing and the pure, unsullied enjoyment it gave him.
“Good. I’ll buy you a drink after we’ve danced.”
Ty grinned. He loved a masterful man as long as he wasn’t an asshat. Masterful and Alpha men were fascinating creatures. An asshat was almost as bad as an asshole and was a bully, rather than masterful.
A dance would be more than long enough to check that this man was just what he wanted for the night.
Mr. Delicious left his drink on the bar and lightly took Ty’s hand, leading him to the edge of the dance floor. Instead of standing opposite him to dance, he pulled Ty firmly against his body until they were pressed together and Ty could feel the heat of the other man through both their shirts.
His dance partner slid a leg between Ty’s and began to dance. He was definitely in charge, but Ty was happy with that. His partner led clearly and definitely and so was easy to follow. They swirled around the dance floor, Mr. Delicious casually maneuvering them both around the other dancers. At the end of the first dance, he smiled at Ty and said, “You dance well.”
“It’s not hard. You’re quite clear about what you want.”
During the second dance, Mr. Delicious tried a few more ambitious moves, but Ty hadn’t wasted his years at dance class and twisted and turned in his partner’s arms, really enjoying the opportunity to stretch himself and show off his skills a little. He’d never been good enough to make a career out of dancing, and, so far, not even out of teaching others to dance, but he still was much better than average, and he loved to dance. This was very much his happy place. Dancing with someone who knew what he was doing.
When the set of music ended, Ty was surprised when people clapped them as they left the dance floor. He grinned at Mr. Delicious and said, “I guess that means you owe me a drink.”
“It does indeed. I’m Devin.”
“Hi, Devin. I’m Tyrell but prefer Ty.”
“Ty it is. What would you like to drink, Ty?”
“Champagne.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Aren’t you ready to celebrate our meeting each other?” Ty gazed steadily into Devin’s face, almost daring him to say goodbye instead of getting them both a drink.
Devin nodded abruptly and waved in the direction of several empty tables. “Grab us a seat, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Once Devin’s back was turned, Ty heaved a sigh of relief and headed for a table beside the dance floor. He’d enjoyed their dance and intended they’d do that again before Devin took him to bed. And he was determined that would happen as well. Devin stirred all his juices, ticked all his boxes, and all the other clichés about picking a partner for a one-night stand. Damn, he’d almost consider foregoing another dance to get to the bedroom faster, but not quite.
Devin returned with an ice bucket, holding a bottle of champagne, and two champagne flutes. He poured them each a glass and then said, “To getting to know each other better.”
Ty grinned. “Hell yes. I’ll drink to that. Start by telling me a little bit about yourself.”

Buy Link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/devin-and-the-dancer

The Millionaire's Grandsons. Book 1, "Quade and the Glazier" is out today!

Quade and the Glazier (MM) by Cara Adams
The Millionaire's Grandsons book 1

Blurb: Working for his grandfather is far too frustrating. The old man refuses to change with the times or to delegate anything. Business is slipping away from them. Good clients want instant decisions, not to wait weeks for the CEO to reply to them. Necessary upgrades and new equipment aren’t forthcoming. Quade can’t stand being ignored and belittled anymore. It’s time for him to leave Carmichael Industries and build a new life of his own.
Barton Dwyer owns Dwyer Glass. He’s an only child who has always loved being alone and surrounded by silence. He really ought to take on an apprentice or a helper because the business is getting to be too much for him, but he can’t bear the thought having another person always beside him all day long. So why is he attracted to redheaded Quade Carmichael who knows nothing about glass and is completely under the influence of his grandfather?

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/quade-and-the-glazier

STORY EXCERPT

Barton Dwyer owned Dwyer Glass. It was a tiny company, but it was turning a profit, and it was all his. Actually, it was turning such a good profit he really needed to hire an apprentice to help him so he could take on some of the jobs he had to turn down from lack of time, in case his good clients started using other companies. But he was an only child who liked to be alone, had solitary hobbies, and had worked by himself for so long he was wary about adding another person into his daily life. Even little things like would they want the radio on in the truck as they went from job to job or, horror, as they installed glass somewhere. He’d passed work sites with music bellowing out from them, and it made him cringe. The only time he ever turned on his car radio was if he was stuck in traffic and needed to find a better route to wherever he wanted to go. As for listening to music, a few songs on YouTube, and he was over it for another week, or even a month.
So the whole need for a helper was sitting on his to-do list, and he was busy ignoring it. Unfortunately the window he was supposed to bid for was a huge damn thing, and today, someone to hold the end of the damn tape measure would have been very useful. Right then a rather good-looking redheaded man of about his age appeared and handed him a diagram with all the measurements carefully written onto it.
“Quade Carmichael. Here you go.”
Damn. His voice was as sexy as his face. “Barton Dwyer, Dwyer Glass. Why are you giving me this?”
“My grandfather demanded three estimates for the job, and I can’t find three companies to come out and measure and quote. One lot will do it over the Internet though, so I got maintenance to measure the windows for me. You might as well benefit, too.”
“You wanted security glass, right? You realize that stuff”—he pointed to the shards remaining around the hole, currently covered up by plywood—“is not security glass.”
“My point precisely. If it had been, the window might not need repairing.”
The man was as smart as he was good-looking. Barton laughed, hooked his tape measure onto his tool belt, and took out his notepad, pen, and calculator. The window was big and would be a bitch to do alone, but somehow he wanted to do the job instead of taking the sensible option and quoting too high so he didn’t get it. His decision had nothing to do with Mr. Sexy though, of course.
“It’s for both windows. Grandpa agreed to security glass in them both.”
Well damn. He couldn’t possibly do two of them alone. It’d take too long. Unless… He finished his calculations and handed the bid to the redhead. “I can do it on Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“I’m pretty busy right now.” And maneuvering that large sheet of heavy security glass will be a bitch of a job alone.
The redhead looked at his estimate and then pulled out his cell phone, typed something in it, and said, “You’re hired. What time Saturday so I can ensure maintenance is here to remove the plywood?”
Barton kept his face still, but he was surprised to have been hired so easily. Companies like this, especially ones where someone else made the decisions, which it sounded as though this man’s grandfather did, often took several days to get back to him. They must have been in a hurry to get the glass repaired. He mentally ran through his costs and checked he hadn’t left something out of his bid, but the figure he’d quoted was correct. “I’ll be here at eight. First job of the day,” he said.
The redhead made a note in his cell phone and nodded. “Great. Thanks.” Then he hurried back inside the building.
After admiring the man’s back view and tight ass, Barton licked his lips, shrugged and walked back to his truck then headed out onto his next job, five miles from there. But thoughts of the redhead swirled in his mind all the rest of the day. The man had been polite and friendly, had a nice voice that sent ripples up his spine, and was well built. Unfortunately he was clearly subservient to his grandfather, yet for some reason Barton found himself liking him. Weird.
Even weirder was the way thoughts of the man’s short red hair, chiseled jaw, and smiling brown eyes came back into his mind again and again as he fitted new windows into a house being remodeled. It was ridiculous. The man meant nothing to him. He’d never see him again. Management types didn’t hang around the office on Saturdays. No, they were on the golf course or taking Junior to soccer. Likely he just needed to get laid. It’d been a while.

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/quade-and-the-glazier