Suncoast Society
Switchy
Em Woodland’s parents moved in with her three years ago, and it wasn’t her idea. Her mother’s meddling has killed Em’s love life. After her busybody mom calls the cops on the two new guys next door, Em has apologies to make.
Jarred and Garrison are thirteen months into grieving the death of their love and Owner, Janis. Then Jarred inherits his uncle’s house next door to single cutie, Em. They’re willing to overlook her mom’s antics for the welcome distraction Em brings to their life. As the three grow close, the men admit their desired dynamic to independent Em.
She’s willing to try it. Two hot and sexy Alpha hunks at her beck and call? Yes, please!
But family drama and deadly close calls take Em over the edge and leave her unable to care for herself. Can she let go and let her two switchy men take the reins and prove to her that they want her for life?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 85,855 words
SWITCHY
Suncoast Society
Tymber Dalton
SIREN SENSATIONS
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Siren Sensations
SWITCHY
Copyright © 2016 by Tymber Dalton
E-book ISBN: 978-1-68295-273-3
First E-book Publication: May 2016
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2016 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Switchy by Tymber Dalton from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Tymber Dalton’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Tymber Dalton’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
www.SirenPublishing.com
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
To Hubby and Mr. B.
And to Apache, a.k.a. Puppy. You were such a good boy. We’re always going to love and miss you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
While the books in the Suncoast Society series are standalone works that may be read independently of each other, the recommended reading order to avoid spoilers and to not miss any backstory information is as follows:
1. Safe Harbor
2. Cardinal’s Rule
3. Domme by Default
4. The Reluctant Dom
5. The Denim Dom
6. Pinch Me
7. Broken Toy
8. A Clean Sweep
9. A Roll of the Dice
10. His Canvas
11. A Lovely Shade of Ouch
12. Crafty Bastards
13. A Merry Little Kinkmas
14. Sapiosexual
15. A Very Kinky Valentine’s Day
16. Things Made Right
17. Click
18. Spank or Treat
19. A Turn of the Screwed
20. Chains
21. Kinko de Mayo
22. Broken Arrow
23. Out of the Spotlight
24. Friends Like These
25. Vicious Carousel
26. Hot Sauce
27. Open Doors
28. One Ring
29. Vulnerable
30. The Strength of the Pack
31. Initiative
32. Impact
33. Liability
34. Switchy
Some of the characters in this book appear in or are featured in previous books in the Suncoast Society series. Chelbie and Rich and Nick Hurst are featured in Sapiosexual. All titles available from Siren-BookStrand.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
About the Author
SWITCHY
Suncoast Society
TYMBER DALTON
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
“Wow. I thought your mom said we could move right in.”
Garrison Porter had stopped just inside the front door of a house that was now legally theirs—well, Jarred’s—and tried to take in the disaster area.
Okay, maybe disaster area was too harsh a descriptor, but the funky smell in the place sure as heck didn’t bode well.
Jarred Ilsen arched an eyebrow at him. “How long have we been together? You should have known better than to take her at her word. She has a tendency to gloss over stuff.” He also hadn’t moved past the entryway.
Jarred’s mom, Katie, was younger than her older brother by fifteen years. Bryant Simonson had been a childless widower who’d spent the last eighteen months of his life in a nursing hom
e. Katie was also the executor of his will, but he’d left a goodly chunk of his estate to Jarred.
Which included a three-bedroom, two-bath house that hadn’t been lived in since Bryant had fallen and broken his hip for the second time, and had required surgery. Complications from that surgery had forced Bryant to give up his independence, but he’d refused to sell his house.
The men stood there, staring.
“It could be worse,” Jarred finally said. “What the heck is that smell?”
“I don’t know.” Garrison finally walked through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, started to open the fridge, and immediately slammed it shut again. “Uh, okay. That’s definitely a good chunk of the problem right there.”
“Greaaat. I thought the power was on?”
“I think it is.” Garrison reached over and flipped on a kitchen light. “See? The fridge must have died. It looks like it’s as old as the house.”
“Okay,” Jarred said. “That’s at the top of the list, then. Rent a construction Dumpster, and buy a new fridge.”
“We could call Mark, Josh, and Ted.”
Garrison’s sister, Tracy, worked for the men, who had a commercial cleaning service, along with a side business of doing hoarder recovery. They also frequently appeared on a cable TV show on gO! Network that recorded the process. Jarred and Garrison considered the men friends, and had quite a few friends in common with them.
Jarred looked around, still not leaving the relative safety of the entryway. “It’s not that bad,” he finally said. “I don’t want to spend any more money than we have to fixing it up. I don’t want to dip into our savings. I mean, we can do all this ourselves. We’ll still need a Dumpster, though, for that. And for this carpet. Holy hell, that’s a nasty shade of green. And I never thought I’d think anything was uglier than Army green.”
Jarred’s uncle had also left Jarred a bank account with nearly twenty grand in it. His life insurance policy and a couple of other accounts had gone to Jarred’s mom, totaling over one hundred thousand dollars. The men had their own savings account, but they didn’t want to use any of that money for renovations if they didn’t have to.
Not after what they’d been through.
The future was now. They’d seen what could possibly happen, and the chaos it could wreak on their lives. Keeping a solid savings account was crucial.
“I think the official color back then was called ‘baby crap green,’ thank you very much.” Garrison returned to the entryway and wrapped his arms around Jarred. “The other option is we clean it out and sell it as-is. Flip it. No mortgage on it. Paint the walls, new fridge, bare minimum effort. Pocket the cash and do whatever.”
Jarred let out a sigh and rested his head against Garrison’s chest. “No, let’s do this. Maybe it’s what we need to get our heads out of this funk. Besides, we’d been talking about buying a house. Why buy one when we’ve been given one, free and clear?” Garrison stood a couple of inches taller than him, and leaning against him always felt right.
“You were given one,” Garrison corrected.
Jarred shook his head. “Stop that. It’s ours. Not my fault you won’t let me marry you yet.”
Jarred finally followed Garrison around the house as they examined their new abode. Well, what would be their new abode once they got it ready. They wouldn’t be giving up their apartment just yet.
“Okay,” Garrison said. “So why does the master bedroom and bathroom look like they’ve been redone?” Those two rooms, at least, had tiled floors, and the doorways were wider. There was also a large shower with handrails.
“He was a stubborn guy,” Jarred said. “When he fell and broke his hip that first time about ten years ago, Mom and his doctors were trying to make him move into an ALF then. He had this redone so he could get a wheelchair and walker around in them.”
“Ah.”
Jarred walked across the room to the sliders and opened the blinds. “Oh. Man, the backyard needs a lot of work.”
Thankfully, Bryant had also been paying a lawn company to mow every couple of weeks. But the backyard wasn’t exactly landscaped. It looked like more of a moonscape, with patches of brownish grass and clusters of Spanish needles and sandspurs running rampant along the fence in what likely had been flowerbeds. The yard didn’t have a sprinkler system, so it was a “lawn” only in a theoretical sense.
The front yard was, at least, green.
Ish.
“No pool, either,” Jarred said. “Kind of wish there was.”
“We could always have one put in.”
“Eh.” Jarred turned. “We can worry about that later. Our lease is due for renewal in three months. We have to let them know in two if we’re renewing.”
Garrison rubbed at the back of his neck. “We might not have it finished by then, but we can at least have it livable. Heck, it could be livable in a couple of days, if we bust our asses and get a Dumpster here.” He turned to Jarred. “No more asshole fighting neighbors.”
“True.” Their new neighbors had moved in two weeks earlier, and seemed to spend most of their time fighting. While Jarred and Garrison hadn’t called the cops on them—yet—some of the other neighbors already had.
Twice.
“Does that mean you’ve decided?” Garrison asked.
“You know, I think so. It would be nice to live someplace quiet again.”
Jarred realized there were still sheets on the bed. “Uh, that’s probably another source of the funk.” He pointed to some suspicious dark spots on the top sheet.
“Probably. I bet the AC filter hasn’t been changed, either.”
They found the air handler grate in the hallway and opened it. The filter looked dark and dingy, but the air seemed to be working, the temperature set to eighty degrees. Garrison snapped a picture of the filter with his cell phone so he’d have the size and replaced it for the time being, then adjusted the thermostat, bumping the temperature down.
The air kicked on almost immediately and started cooling the house.
Jarred held a hand in front of a vent and felt cool air blowing out. “Okay, so there’s good news. Might want to get a duct cleaning, though.”
“Yeah.” Garrison walked over to the door leading to the garage and opened it. “Oh, hey, look at this.” The washer and dryer looked almost brand new. “No more tiny apartment unit washer and dryer. Yay!”
“True. Hey, there.” Jarred pointed to three new AC filters, still wrapped in plastic, sitting on a shelf next to the washer and dryer. Garrison grabbed one and went back inside to change it.
Bryant Simonson hadn’t been a hoarder, just an average person with a normal life. His passing had left behind the detritus of that life for his family to clean up and deal with. Jarred’s mom had already gone through the house and retrieved the items she’d wanted, family heirlooms and whatnot. Since Jarred’s mom was Bryant’s only sibling, and Jarred being an only child, it wasn’t like there would be a family squabble.
The men had promised if they came across anything they thought might be of interest to Jarred’s mom that they’d hold on to it for her, but otherwise they were free to do whatever they wanted with the contents of the house.
The one-car garage hadn’t held a car since before Bryant’s death. His car had been sold soon after he’d moved into the nursing home. There were stacks and stacks of boxes and various assorted items to sort through there. If they were going to use it to hold their own possessions, they’d have to clear it out.
They returned to the kitchen. “Okay,” Garrison said. “Step one, order a Dumpster.” He tapped notes into his phone. “Step two, get all the paperwork from your mom and the probate attorney so we can change all the utilities over.”
“Get cable and Internet hooked up,” Jarred said.
“That’s part of step two. Step three, get insurance. Step four, we’ll need garbage bags and cleaning supplies and boxes and stuff.”
“New fridge.”
Garrison arched
an eyebrow at him. “I’m getting there. Step five, new fridge.”
The three-two house had been built in the late seventies. The roof had been replaced less than five years ago. Except for the fridge, it appeared that the worst they’d need for minimum effort would be a lot of elbow grease.
“Step six, price out flooring and paint.”
“Two steps,” Jarred corrected. “Paint first, then flooring.”
Garrison rolled his eyes even though the hint of a smile curved his lips. “Fine. Steps six and seven. How much of a battle is this going to be with you over that?”
“Over what?”
“Picking paint colors.”
Jarred shrugged, finally feeling like smiling. “You tell me. We’re both sadistic masochists. It could go on for a while.”
Garrison grinned back. “True.”
* * * *
“I’m telling you, we should call the cops. See something, say something. That’s what they tell you to do.”
Merylicia Woodland’s mother, Francis, was glued to their living room window.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Mom.”
Em, as she preferred to be called despite her mother’s insistence on calling her Meryl, was sitting on the couch and trying to work on her laptop that Monday afternoon. She’d spent most of the morning huddled in her home office, but then her mom had insisted on bothering her every five minutes despite Em’s repeated pleas not to interrupt her.
It was just one of those damn kind of days.
That’s when Em had moved out to the living room in an attempt to try to get some work accomplished.
And now…this.
“No, it’s not.” Francis turned from the window and hurried over to the house phone. “They could be robbing poor Bryant blind.”
Switchy Page 1
