Book Excerpts

Save Me by Beck Grey: Audiobook Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

December 17, 2021 by Denise

Deputy US Marshal Jamie MacDougall assumes his latest assignment is just another security detail, but when he finds himself falling for the gorgeous key witness he’s sworn to protect, it takes everything he has to keep things professional.

When Ashley Pandy enters the WITSEC program, with a new identity and a new life far away from Seattle and Jamie, he tries to move on, but a year later, with no hope of seeing him again, he still can’t forget the man who stole his heart.

Ashley walked away from love for noble reasons. Jamie let him go because it was the honorable thing to do. When a foolish decision gives them a second chance to be all kinds of wrong, can they finally get it right?

Amazon

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“Jamie.” I step close and slip my fingers into his curls, pressing against him from chest to hip. “I want this.” I nuzzle against his jaw, letting my need for him fill every word. “I want you. I have wanted you since the day we met.”

His whole body relaxes, and he pulls me further into the room, setting the lamp on the dresser. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

“Good. Then let me show you, too.” My fingers are back in his curls, my lips against his, our mouths sliding together, tongues and hands never still. I touch everywhere I can reach, chest, arms, back, ass, as I guide him towards the bed. When his calves hit the frame he stops, but I don’t, and we tumble onto the mattress.

He glances up at me, eyes dark, sparkling with amusement, his hair a mess from my fingers. Fuck, he looks edible. “Very smooth.”

I smirk and cock an eyebrow. “Wait ‘til you see my other moves.”

His beautiful eyes stare into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. “Show me.”

Beck Grey is an LGBTQ romance author who lives in the Northeastern United States with their partner and two adorable dogs. Weekdays are passed spending their employer’s money. Evenings and weekends are devoted to writing stories involving hot characters, favorite tropes, and happily ever afters.

Any additional time is spent laughing with friends, drinking red wine, printing and painting minis, and playing D&D. There might even be video games. If there’s cake involved at any point it’s a win!

Connect with Beck:
www.beckgrey.com
Twitter: @BeckGreyWrites
FB Group: Beck’s Blanket Fort https://www.facebook.com/groups/789307111722835/
Pinterest boards for Beck’s books: @Beck_Grey
IG: beckgreyauthor

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The Cuckoo’s Call by Lily Morton: Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

December 13, 2021 by Denise

Can a summer romance last forever?

Wren Roberts thought he’d found his fairy tale when he met Mateo Rossi on holiday in Majorca. The wealthy and successful older man swept him off his feet, and before he knew it, he’d thrown caution to the wind and was living in Mateo’s waterside apartment in Venice. It’s a far cry from his harsh upbringing and crummy flat in London.

But as the summer turns to autumn, cracks begin to show. Mateo’s family aren’t welcoming, and there doesn’t seem to be a place for Wren in Mateo’s world. He could have coped with all of that, but Mateo himself seems like a different person away from the sunshine island.

Should Wren have been more cautious in riding off into the sunset when he wasn’t sure what lay over the horizon?

From bestselling author Lily Morton comes a romance about two men who find that sometimes happily ever after doesn’t end there.

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited

Goodreads

I walk into the room and whistle. “Wow.”

Mateo sniffs disapprovingly. “This is the superior room?”

“Hmm. It’s quite poky, isn’t it? A bit like a prison cell with a nice view.” He glares at me, and I spread my hands. “What? You wanted me to point out the problems.”

He takes off his baseball cap and throws it on one of the beds. Will we be sleeping in here tonight? The beds are very close together. Somehow, I don’t think Mateo figured on that when he thought up this plan.

He puts his hands on his hips and looks intently around the room. He somehow manages to be dignified even with that atrocity of a T-shirt. I shake my head. Even in those cheap clothes, he’s hot. The tight T-shirt clings to his muscled torso and highlights the bulge of his biceps while the colour, which would be terrible on me, makes his olive skin glow. Even the shorts accentuate the tight fleshy curve of his buttocks.

He breaks the spell by moving over to the bed and lifting the mattress.

“Whoa,” I say. “What are you doing?”

He grins wickedly. “An old tip given to me by a hotel inspector. Lift the mattress and check for dust and dirt on the frame and springs. It shows whether it has been turned recently.”

“Aren’t hotel inspectors supposed to be secretive?”

He winks. “Not when they’re naked.”

I shake my head and move to his side. “Ugh. Look at that dust.”

He lets the mattress fall, wiping his hands on his shorts. “The mattresses are supposed to be turned every month.”

“I bet Julio Iglesias was in the charts the last time that happened here.”

He crouches and peers under the bed. “There is a condom wrapper under here,” he says in disgust.

“Open or sealed?” He raises an eyebrow and I shrug. “Well, it changes things. Open is bad housekeeping. Sealed is helpful.”

“It changes nothing.” He stands up and runs his finger over the top of a picture. He turns his finger toward me, showing that it’s covered in dust. “Housekeeping isn’t doing their job.”

“You remind me of an old foster carer I stayed with,” I say idly, opening the drawer of the bedside table. I remove a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and offer it to him. “Don’t hotels usually provide the Gideon Bible? I’m not sure whether this is an improvement or not.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s not the best read out there.” I grin. “I remember reading this. It took bloody ages to get a copy from the library. I wanted to know whether I was suited for BDSM. I decided in the end that I could cope with the odd smacked bum, but I wasn’t that keen on being told what to do. I mean, I might have been able to obey a handsome billionaire, but it didn’t quite work with Trevor from Wapping, who was telling me to go to Tesco for him to buy his beer.”

There’s a long pause, and his lip twitches. “No, I mean, why do I remind you of a foster carer?”

I look at him and burst into laughter. “Sorry,” I say when I’ve recovered. “This couple I lived with for a few months used to get us all out of bed at five in the morning and make us clean the house.”

I’m startled to see a look of rage on his face.

“How old were you?” he asks.

“About ten, I think.”

“That’s fucking terrible.”

I shrug. “I’ve had worse, and at least I know how to use a hoover attachment. I’m sure it’ll come in useful sometime.” I look around the room. “I could be in for a position with your housekeeping team with my superior cleaning knowledge. I’d probably be management material straightaway.”

Another win by Lily Morton. Should I be shocked? No. She never disappoints.

I hate to call him poor, but… how about a living paycheck to paycheck kind of guy, Wren is on vacation with his wealthy friend who ends up ditching him. Through a series of kismet like events, he ends up getting hired for a week by the owner of a chain of hotels to help him figure out what is wrong with each one. And it is almost always prejudice. Prejudice against people who aren’t well off. Or don’t look or act well off. Which is 100% a real thing so it was nice to see it addressed so thoroughly in a book.

They naturally have chemistry, even with their almost 20 year age difference and their difference in tax brackets. But Wren never expects a thing from Mateo and Mateo never treats Wren any differently than people with money. And after the week is over, Mateo invites Wren back to Venice for a month.

Then we REALLY see how awful people with money can be, save a few.

I loved Wren because although he was an orphan, zero family, very few friends, a dead end job and an apartment he shares, he is just a happy person. He doesn’t let much get him down. He doesn’t lament or dwell or stew. He just carries on.

Mateo is like two different people. Except when he is with Wren. Seeing his worlds collide and his eyes open makes for great story telling.

I, of course, adored Mateo’s grandfather and I really hope side character A gets together with side character B in the next book. As as Ms. Morton is wont to do, there is a very loose thread connecting Wren to a character in a previous book. That is also always fun.

Mateo is very romantic throughout, even though he refuses to fall in love. And Wren is smitten. They are very sexy and sweet together and the romance is swoony without being over the top.

I also enjoyed starting at the end (nearly) and going back to the beginning. I don’t usually like that in books but it was very well done.

Lily Morton fans, this is a must read. And if you’re new to her work, do yourself a favor. Jump in.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Lily writes contemporary romance novels, and specialises in hot love stories with a good dose of humour.

Lily lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom claim that they haven’t had a proper conversation with her since she bought her first Kindle.

She has spent her life with her head full of daydreams and decided one day to just sit down and start writing about them. In the process she discovered that she actually loved writing, because how else could she get to spend her time with hot, funny men!

She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations – chocolate Baileys! Her lifetime’s ambition is to have a bath in peace without being shouted by one of her family.

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Salvaging Christmas by Brian Lancaster: RB, Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

December 5, 2021 by Denise

For years they have kept the Yuletide Gay Club going with like minded friends until this year grim providence decides to stick in his ugly snout. But just as everything starts to fall apart, the son of the owner turns up and the real fun begins.

Tired with awkward family Christmases, Trevor McTavish and his best friend have planned a getaway each year for twelve close gay friends to enjoy the festive season together in remote country locations around Britain. Far from the maddening crowds. Beautiful Stratham Lodge in Scotland, hugging the shores of Loch Arkaig, is set to be this year’s rental destination.

Except this year, one by one, friends have dropped out. Against their better judgement, they decide to bite the bullet and forge ahead with a much reduced, and somewhat contentious party, which includes Trevor’s formerly gay ex-husband and his new girlfriend.

On the second day, Trevor realises this year’s break is going to be a disaster. But then the son of the lodge owner, Rudy Mortimer, appears and saves the day.

Reader advisory: This book contains mention of homophobia, domestic abuse and sexual assault.

Amazon

First for Romance

Trevor McTavish loved traditions.

Or, more to the point, new traditions built on old ones. After all, wasn’t that what most of them were, a blend of old and new, built layer upon layer over time? They provided a foundation, something people could rely on, even when everything else around them broke down, or changed unexpectedly, or disappeared entirely from their lives—which seemed to happen to him all too often of late.

Traditions ensured continuity, and even with the few hiccups this year had brought, Trevor loved the Christmas tradition he and Cheryl had created for their friends.

As the sullen driver of the prepaid cab steered in silence through the early morning streets of London, Trevor rested his head against the ice-cold window. Gentle vibrations from the hybrid engine massaged his skull. Already the sky had begun transitioning from purest black as the night shift packed up and daylight took over. Fully alert despite the early hour, he looked for homes with their Christmas lights still burning and gardens or roofs decorated with seasonal figures. A part of him instinctively knew he would get along with the person who had gone to all the effort to put them up, most likely done to make other people smile.

Nothing could shake Trevor’s upbeat mood as the cab turned into the familiar road where the Madison family lived. Since he’d packed last night, the sense of anticipation and excitement at the promise of a road trip with best friends had kept him pumped up and grinning like an inflatable snowman.

Six in the morning on that pre-dawn Friday in December, he climbed out of the overheated car and crunched down onto a pavement of overnight frost. After collecting his luggage from the boot, he pulled out a five-pound note from his wallet and tapped a fingernail on the driver’s window. With a smile, he held up the banknote, ready to wish the man a heartfelt season’s greetings. After all, if the poor guy had to drive a cab at this early hour, he obviously needed the money.

Without even bothering to acknowledge Trevor, the driver pulled away.

Left standing alone in the road, Trevor shrugged and put the fiver back. Perhaps the man had somewhere better to be. Not everyone shared his passion for all things festive.

Humming to himself, he manoeuvred his wheelie luggage up the broken-tiled garden path and prodded the front doorbell. Bing-bongs chimed from somewhere inside. Cheryl Madison’s mother opened the door in her furry-hooded olive parka and mismatching navy Wellington boots. Further at odds with the ensemble, her pink floral nightie peeked out from beneath the jacket.

Trevor almost let out a giggle.

Until he saw the expression on her face.

After a furtive glance at the staircase behind her, Mrs M nodded sharply towards the Volvo out front while handing him a small but deceptively heavy cardboard box. Hauling a larger one from the floor, she strode past him and he trailed after her, the wheels of his luggage clunking arrhythmically on the broken pavement. Only as she unlocked the hatchback and placed her carton inside did she reveal the predicament.

“Hannah’s not coming. She broke up with Cheryl last night. Met someone at their Christmas office party on Tuesday night. Supposedly.”

The way she articulated that final word said everything. Trevor dropped onto the tailgate—causing the car to bounce—and placed his container next to hers. Mrs M stood there studying him, arms folded, appearing to wait for his response. Instinctively, he mirrored her body language and sighed. Of all their friends, he understood only too well the devastating effects of being dumped. Right before their long-anticipated Christmas trip, too. Hannah had always possessed a selfish streak, an immunity to the sensibilities of others. She had often manipulated Cheryl but he’d never thought she would stoop so low.

“Shit. Poor Cheryl. How’s she coping?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Putting on a brave front. I tried to sound surprised when she told me, but something’s not been right for months. The important thing, Trevor, is that we’re down by one more guest.”

“Double shit,” he said, staring down at the road between his legs.

“I’ll let you think about that before I bring out any more boxes, and while I go and put the kettle on,” she said, before heading back to the house.

So much for the Yuletide Gay Club.

I loved the premise of this story. A group of people, LGBTQ+, taking an annual trip over the Christmas holiday as a way to be with people they care about, rather than the required time with family that often won’t go well, and makes you regret every life decision. And for the most part, this book provided that.

Trevor, recently divorced is determined to take this trip, despite all the drop-outs. His best friend goes, despite a recent breakup herself, her mother, who recently lost her long-time lover. Unfortunately, those that were unwanted also went, because Trevor was a bit of a pushover and wouldn’t say no. Trevor’s ex-husband, now straight-ish, with a pregnant wife, who was honestly not a nice person at all. And you couldn’t blame all that on hormones. Trevor’s ex got what he deserved there, to be honest, as no matter how he tried to spin it, he was a jerk.

Rudy, sweet and quick to laugh, but his own sadness from a breakup, was pretty much everything you envision from a man in the highlands…rides up on his trusty steed, shirtless, saving the day. This brought in some definite sexiness. It got hot and heavy at times once Trevor and Rudy took it to the next level.

There were a lot of characters in the book, which made it difficult sometimes to keep track of who was where. However, it felt like with so many characters there should have been a lot more dialogue, a lot more showing rather than telling. This book had a lot of long drawn out descriptions, leaving me skipping entire paragraphs, causing the book to drag in places.

3.5 pieces of eye candy

Brian Lancaster is an author of gay romantic fiction in multiple genres, including contemporary romance, paranormal, fantasy, crime, mystery, and anything else that tickles his muse’s fancy. Born in the sleepy South of England where most of his stories are set, he moved to Southeast Asia in 1998, where he now shares a home with his husband and two of the laziest cats on the planet.

Find out more about Brian at his website – https://brianlancasterauthor.com/

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Claim Me, Love Me by Jaiyde Thomas: Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

December 1, 2021 by Denise

The only way to fall in love is to take the first step.

For Caleb, that first step leads to fear, violence, and the death of the only boy he’s ever loved. He won’t—can’t—admit who he is to himself. How could he ever share his deepest secrets with someone else?

Josaiah has known he was gay since he was seven. He’s experienced in more ways than one—with sex, with other men, and as a Dominant. But love is something he can’t accept or give, and he’s walled himself off from any kind of affection.

Can Caleb confront his ghosts and learn to love himself and his new Dom? Will Josaiah remember how to love, and be loved in turn? As Caleb and Josaiah take the first few steps toward each other, their pasts threaten to overwhelm their future

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited

Goodreads

**NSFW**

“I licked over the slit repeatedly, then took his dick deeper into my throat. His thrusts told me that he wanted me to lie there and take it, but regardless, I was going to get mine! I grabbed Liam’s head as he began sucking hard, shoving my erect cock down his throat. He hummed appreciatively as it slid deeper, and I could feel the vibrations course through to my balls. Oh fuck, I’m about to explode! Moans and pants filled the air as we all reached our climax, and as soon as Cordell whispered his oncoming explosion, I suctioned onto his dick as if my life depended on it. At the same time, my balls were being rubbed and my dick was being sucked so ferociously that when the orgasm knocked the breath out of me, I “almost didn’t notice that we were all cumming at once. The moans and howls of pleasure faded to background noise as I floated on my own cloud of bliss, unaware of everything and everyone else.

Warm hands caressed my sweat-covered body, and I felt myself being cleaned. Then, I was lifted, and I smelled soap. I opened my eyes and smiled. These guys are taking care of me. I waited patiently as my face was washed and my dick, balls, asshole, and chest were wiped clean. Finally, someone handed me a cup of water, and I sipped it slowly, not liking the bland taste.

Jaiyde Thomas is a lover of words and languages. Though her heart is in Alabama, she was born and raised in Ohio. Her first experience with gay romance was when she offered to beta read her friend’s novel. Since then, she’s been hooked on the genre. Her inspirations are Gianni Holmes, K. C. Wells, and Parker Williams, and their books are the reason why Jaiyde started writing.
She loves a good story with complex characters, steamy sex scenes, and happily ever afters. Claim Me, Love Me is her first novel.
Please consider leaving a review, and to follow the author, visit these links:
https://jaiydethomasbooks.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/jaiyde.thomas2142
https://twitter.com/jaiyde_thomas
https://www.instagram.com/jaiyde_thomas

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Hex Work by TA Moore: Blog Tour, Exclusive Guest Post, Excerpt and Giveaway

November 24, 2021 by Denise

My name is Jonah Carrow, and it’s been 300 days since I laid a hex.

OK, Jonah Carrow isn’t actually an alcoholic. But there’s no support group of lapsed hex-slingers in Jerusalem, so he’s got to make do. He goes for the bad coffee and the reminder that he just has to take normal one day at a time.

Unfortunately, his past isn’t willing to go down without a fight.

A chance encounter with a desperate Deborah Seddon, and a warning that ‘they’re watching’, pulls Jonah back into the world he’d tried to leave behind. Now he has to navigate ghosts, curses, and the hottest bad idea warlock he’s ever met…all without a single hex to his name.

But nobody ever said normal was easy. Not to Jonah anyhow.

Title: Hex Work by TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Release: 23 November

Amazon

Hi! Can you believe it’s November already? I feel entirely adrift in the calendar these days. It’s 1934th of March! One thing I have managed to keep on track for, more or less, is the whole publication schedule for Hex Work…more or less!

Hex Work is NOT the book I was meant to be writing, but it’s the one that wanted to come out of my head. So I hope people like it in order to make the absolute shambles it made of my writing schedule worth it. I like it, so I guess that’s a good start!

Thanks for having me and I hope you enjoy the exclusive short story prequel to the Hex Work novella!

Read the rest of the story at TAMooreWrites.com

Stories of Babylon – Chapter Three

Wife growled at him. Jonah reached down to gently tug her ears and settle her down.

“That’s what I want to know,” he said. “Sorry about this.”

John opened his mouth to ask why and Jonah stuck his finger in his mouth. It felt like a corpse, clammy and dry and slack. Before John could react Jonah dug his finger down into the stiff flesh of the tongue.

“A nail, a thorn, and a splinter,” Jonah rattled off. “Fear not, the Lord take us home before winter.”

He pulled his hand back and absently wiped it on his coat. Ghosts didn’t have spit, or germs, but hags could be another story. Cut the last threads that kept this one tied to John’s identity—his name, his life, his favourite food—and that’s what John would be. Or already was, even if he didn’t remember just yet.

John stood there, his chalky face slack and almost peaceful. The way he’d look in the coffin, once his face had been rebuilt by the mortician.

“Time to go home, Johnny,” Jonah said. “Your dad is waiting. Come on. I’ll give you a lift.”

Johnny stroked Lot’s head as they drove. Lot leaned into the hex-reinforced touch and panted happily, while Wife disapproved from the back seat. She was a one ghost sort of dog.

Home wasn’t the neat, ranch-style house on the outskirts of town, with a basketball hoop mounted on the garage that already felt poignant. It wasn’t the undertakers either, where John’s body was laid out in a suit his parents had bought just to bury him in.

Those were for the living.

Home, now, was the caster who’d made John.

John and the Woman in White hag who’d killed him, and maimed five other teenagers dumb enough to answer a knock at the door after dark. Three boys, two girls – too young, dumb, and horny to know better. It had been bad enough that someone came to the Carrow house to pay far, far too much for a basket of odd eggs from Gran’s hobby chickens.

It was bad luck to ask for money to cast a hex, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a price. People in Babylon knew that. It was a lot cheaper to pay a grand for a basket of eggs than let Esther Carrow decide what she was owed.

Of course, once the money was in her pocket Gran was free to solve the problem how she saw fit. Which at the moment, while she was hobbled by gout, meant she subcontracted it to Jonah.

On your left, on your left, Johnny whispered suddenly. He had thinned out as they got further away from the site of the accident, just an outline of chalk and shreds of smoke.

Jonah was going to have to have the Plymouth cleaned when this was over.

He turned left onto the hard-packed, dirt Zoba Road and slowed down. Just in case he flicked the headlights off and rolled along in the dark. Lot whined, a thin noise, and lifted his head from John’s lap. There was a patch of chalk dust white on his chin and when he pricked his ears they passed through John’s fingers.

I don’t like scary movies, John said. His voice was strained and brittle as the hexes pulled at him. The faded imprints of the original conversations he was cannibalizing for this plea painted the edges of the words, reluctance and impatience and a general good nature. I’ll do it later.

Jonah thought about it for a second, but he had what he needed from John. He reached into the inner pocket of his coat with one hand, the other braced against the steering wheel to keep the car steady. The spool of thread he pulled out was almost finished. He made a mental note to rewind it from Gran’s sewing box when he got home.

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Website: www.tamoorewrites.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TAMoorewrites/

Twitter: @tamoorewrites

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New Year Not You by Edie Montreux: RB, Exclusive Excerpt, and Giveaway

November 23, 2021 by Denise

Last year, law student Brady Madison’s binge drinking left him naked, unconscious, and in trouble with the law. Now 350 days sober and with only two weeks to serve the last twelve hours of community service, Brady’s faced with another difficult choice: take an offer from the jerk who took the incriminating pics or spend the remaining hours in jail.

Tate Quinn’s snap judgment in Brady’s hotel room on New Year’s Eve ruined any chance he had of hooking up with Brady. Worse, his parents refuse to pay for another semester of grad school until he makes his mom’s New Year’s charity event a success.

Tate needs a volunteer to help him herd the cats, er, kids, at the New Year’s Eve afternoon party, and Brady has always been good with kids. Can they put aside their past anger and shame for six hours, or will these potential lovers turned enemies resolve to remain enemies in the new year?

New Year Not You is a 55k word enemies to lovers M/M Romance between a recovering alcoholic and a recovering man-child. This novel has an AA sponsor moonlighting as a DJ, a cold war between two moms, and two dudes who are not looking for true love (but find it anyway).

Title: New Year Not You
Authors: Edie Montreux
Length: 55k
Series: Standalone
Genre: Contemporary
Tropes: friends to enemies to lovers.
Heat: 4 out of 5

Amazon

It’s New Year’s Day, Brady was almost arrested for kidnapping and was charged with misdemeanor property damage and drunk and disorderly for accidentally overflowing a hotel tub and breaking a sink with his head when he passed out. In short, he’s had a bad day and it’s still early. He received some mystery texts from an unknown number, and now he’s going to call that phone to discover the owner:

Brady stared at the unknown number, his finger hovering over the green phone button. Should he, or shouldn’t he? He shouldn’t call, he knew he shouldn’t, but he had to know.

“Kara’s phone. This is she.”

Brady nearly dropped his phone. Tate’s little sister. “Kara? As in Super Girl?”

She giggled. “Only Brady calls me that.”

“Ha, you remember.” Warmth spread in his chest. He’d always teased Kara about her name, but she really was a super girl. Tate hadn’t been joking about her intelligence. She also had an uncanny way of just knowing things.

“How did you get my phone number?” she asked, sounding suspicious.

“Is your brother around?”

“You’re the boy trouble, aren’t you,” she accused. “What did he do this time?”

Brady was angry with Tate, but Kara had him beat with her level of animosity. He was grateful it was directed at Tate, not at him. “I’m not really sure, so I was hoping he could sort it out.”

“Tate! Phone!” Her breath came in puffs, like she was running, and he could hear the thuds of her footfalls on carpet.

“What?” Tate sounded sleepy. Brady was supposed to be waking up to that sleepy voice today. Fuck, everything had gone so wrong.

“Oh,” Tate said, probably when the phone was shoved in his face. “Oh no. Really?”

“Talk to him,” Kara whispered from further away.

“Um. Hi. This is Tate.”

“Hi, Tate. Brady Madison.”

A loud clatter made his eardrum ache.

“Shit. Sorry. Um. Hi.”

“Did you drop the phone?” Brady asked.

“Tate! That’s my phone!” Kara shouted from still further away.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“So,” Brady continued. “Last night. You stood me up.”

“I did no such thing. I was late, that’s all. Too late to keep you from fucking someone else.”

Brady had been drunk, but not that drunk. “Did you just swear in front of your little sister?”

“No,” Tate said. “I’m in my room, and she left and shut the door. Grounded, no thanks to you.”

“I don’t know how you got the impression I was fucking someone else.”

“Don’t lie to me. There were clothes all over your room.”

He’d been in such a hurry to impress Tate that he’d left his street clothes on the floor. He shouldn’t have bothered. The only option now was damage control. “How many people have seen those pictures?” he asked.

“Well, the police department, my parents, Sandi …”

Each word Tate said led to a new level of betrayal. Brady hadn’t exactly trusted Tate, but he hadn’t not trusted him, either. Now, he felt sick to his stomach. He’d have to work with the police department as a lawyer. He’d have plenty of charity functions with the Quinns. Sandi was the one friend he still spoke to from high school.

“That’s enough,” he said while Tate was still struggling with names. “Never call, text, or take another fucking picture of me again.”

“I’m – ”

Brady didn’t care if Tate’s next words were I’m sorry, I’m an asshole, or I’m too sexy. It didn’t matter. Brady hung up on him. His law career, hell, his whole life, was over.

Edie Montreux (she/her) is demisexual and an ally for all aspects of the LGBTQ+ rainbow. She loves her husband, Queen, dogs, and video games. Edie works full time to support her writing habit. Somehow, she still finds time to walk the dogs and protect imaginary worlds from fantasy creatures.

Connect with Edie:
Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/t7b1x6
Website: https://ediemontreux.com
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorEdieMontreux/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Edie-Montreux/e/B07LC56Z8J
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