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Release Blitz, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Pretty Policeman
By Fifer Rose

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Pretty Policeman, Book 1

Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.

But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.

It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen.

If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.

Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat. He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back.

It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.

There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.

Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute. He’s a cop for the NYPD.

Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.

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Exclusive Excerpt:


Micah grabbed the iPhone he’d been using to communicate with Damon and mindlessly took a picture. He wasn’t stupid enough to include his face in the shot, so it only showcased him from the neck to just below his knees.

In the picture, Micah’s chest was splotchy with arousal, but it was the panties that stole the show. The fabric stretched across the outline of his cock, a little spot of dampness towards the top where precum must have stained the fabric.

If one looked closely, they could see a little hint of his cock head peeking out.

Looking at the picture, Micah couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Damon imagined when he got off.


The thought of Damon masturbating to Micah was too hot to handle, and dropping the phone back onto the bed, Micah returned his attention to his dick. One leg hoisted up on the mattress, Micah used his unoccupied hand to shove the frilly fabric to the side so he could roll his balls between his fingers, then reached back further still until his fingers were brushing up against the pucker of his entrance.

Micah closed his eyes, imagining it was Damon’s hands touching him like this, worshipping his body and whispering dirty things in his ear, telling him what a “good boy” he was, and how “pretty” he looked for him like this, satin fabric twisted around his thighs, as he worked himself to orgasm.

Micah set a punishing pace, yanking on his cock as he toyed with himself. He pushed against his hole, breaching the hot channel with little more than a fingertip, but it was enough. Micah’s stomach clenched, and he half-grunted/half-whined as he came, spurting against his stomach as stars exploded against the black of his eyelids.


Heaving, Micah allowed himself to collapse backward onto his new bed, careful not to get his spunk on the sheets, even in his delirium.

Maybe it was the post-orgasm bliss, or maybe he really was just a complete dumbass, but for some reason, when Micah picked up the iPhone and saw the picture of himself in panties again, some part of his hindbrain decided it would be a good idea to share the photo with Damon.

Still dazed from his release, and working mostly on autopilot, Micah sent the picture to the man.

It wasn’t until Micah’s breathing had slowed, and the post-orgasm high had worn off, that Micah really comprehended what he’d done.

He tensed all over. Then sat up, ramrod straight.

What the fuck? Why?!

Micah fumbled with the phone. Maybe by some miracle, it hadn’t sent. Reception in his apartment was sometimes spotty. But, of course, the state-of-the-art iPhone Damon had given him for work purposes (not sexting purposes, you moron!), had had no issues sending the picture message.

Worse, it had already been “seen”.

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About the Author:

Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.
When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance. She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity. She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.
While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.
Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling. (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)

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