MM PHYSIQUE
The intimacy is on the page, and it’s written the way the lifting is: by breath, by grip, by what it costs.
The intimacy is on the page, and it’s written the way the lifting is: by breath, by grip, by what it costs.
An MM Physique Romance
In a sport that runs on the word more — more size, more chemistry, more — Eli has spent fifteen years on the opposite one: enough.
He competes natural, carving his body down to exactly what it should be and no further — a shape that has to win on proportion, because it gave up winning on size. He trains before dawn, alone — the hand at everyone else’s back on the last brutal rep, and no one at his.
Then Soren walks into his gym. Open-division, sponsored, engineered past anything a natural body can do — and still convinced, in the place no trophy touches, that he isn’t enough.
Rivals to lovers · 78,000 words · open door · no cliffhanger
An MM Physique Romance
Everyone looks at Cal. No one has ever seen him.
At twenty-eight, Cal is the face on the gym window and the body brands rent by the day. Then his coach sends him to a cold warehouse past the rail yards, to a man who takes one look at Cal’s stage-ready shoulders and hands him the lightest dumbbells on the rack.
Silas doesn’t want Cal’s shape. He wants what’s underneath it — and he’s the first person in Cal’s life who seems certain there’s anything there.
Age gap · slow burn · 74,000 words · open door · no cliffhanger
An MM Physique Romance
Four hundred thousand people watch Miles. One man sees him.
At thirty, Miles Vann is the machine’s favorite body — a competitor whose meals, mornings, and smile are all content. Then an errand takes him past the edge of his grid, to a cash-only gym with no wifi and no cameras.
Wade is fifty-two, and he is the gym. Every spring for twenty years he has cut himself to peak condition for a show a couple of hours south, and never once stood on its stage.
Age gap · the trilogy’s finale · 75,000 words · open door · no cliffhanger
Three years. Four days a year. He has never once spoken to him.
Reed competes natural, and he counts everything — reps, mornings, the exact ounce of water pulled before a show. What he counts hardest is the difference: Vaughn Adler’s June, minus his own.
He has never seen Vaughn’s kitchen. He knows the mole on Vaughn’s shoulder blade is new.
This spring, the numbers came out even.
Reads in an hour. It isn’t for sale anywhere — I give it to readers on my list.
You’ll also hear from me first when each book goes live. I don’t send much and I don’t send often.
CJ Ashworth writes MM romance set inside physique competition — the gyms at four in the morning, the food weighed to the gram, the years of it, and what men manage to do for each other in the middle of all that.
CJ started lifting at forty-five and first stood on a competition stage at fifty — then twice a year for the three years after that. The competing stopped; the training didn’t. Fifty-five now, and still five or six mornings a week, ninety minutes at a time.
The gyms in these books aren’t real gyms. The four a.m. is real, and so is the arithmetic.
MM PHYSIQUE is the first series. It won’t be the last.