At the tender age of twenty-one, Kade Hutchins is at a
crossroads, having endured enough hardship to last a thousand lifetimes. With
money tight and career at a standstill, he's running out of time and options.
The day he applies for a job that isn't exactly in his field of expertise and
meets his new boss, Mr. Preston, is the day his fate is changed irrecoverably.
Luke Preston is the kind of man others envy. Rich,
successful and unattached, his no-nonsense, ‘take no prisoners attitude’ has
made him one of the highest profile litigators in Manhattan. He’s also a man
with secrets. Secrets he wants kept under wraps since tragedy rocked his
privileged existence to the core. When Kade, a man some fifteen years his
junior steps foot inside his office, Luke wonders if his heart will survive.
EXCERPT:
I brushed an errant piece of fluff off my shoulder,
straightened the hem of my shirt, and took a deep breath. Not that it did much
good. By the time the elevator doors opened on the tenth floor, my nervousness
was at an all-time high.
With less than a minute to spare, I stepped inside the
plush, modern offices and was met by the sight of a striking woman sitting
behind a large reception desk. Though she appeared business-like, what didn’t
make sense was the way she seemed ready to pounce the second she saw me. I was
surprised she didn’t fall flat on her face, considering she wore a pencil-thin
black skirt and high-heeled shoes and was on her feet and running toward me
like a crazy person.
“Thank God you’re here!”
“Um, what?” I took a wary step backward. She was kinda
scary.
“Please tell me you’re Kade Hutchins.”
“Oh. Yes, I am.”
She held out her hand and when I took it in mine, I was
impressed by her firm, assured grip. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see
you.”
“Uh, thanks?” The warm smile she gave in response
caused her round, hazel eyes to sparkle, while her hospitable attitude made me
feel at ease in an instant. As she released her grasp, I couldn’t help but grin
back
“The name’s Kimberly O'Connell. I’m the paralegal around
here.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. O’Connell.”
“Oh, please, call me Kimberly.”
“Okay.”
She pointed a manicured finger at the closed office door
located behind the desk. “Come on, Kade. Let’s get you in to see His Highness.”
Covering her mouth, she giggled. I stopped myself from joining in, but it
wasn’t easy. She had an infectious laugh.
“Who?”
“Luke Preston. The ass you spoke to on the phone.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know whether it was appropriate to agree with
her or not, but decided it would be best to err on the side of caution.
“Sorry about him, by the way.” Kimberly knocked, before
lowering her voice to a faint whisper, and adding, “I had no idea he was going
to answer the phone when I went to make his coffee. He usually lets the machine
pick up, but I didn’t think to switch it on since I was only going to be gone a
few minutes.”
The moment I let out a quiet chuckle, the door to Luke
Preston’s office flew open.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a strong jaw, high
cheekbones, and dark brown hair slicked back so not a lock was out of place.
That, coupled with the way his body filled out the navy suit he wore, made Luke
Preston look more like a model than a lawyer. My guess was that he was in his
mid-thirties, but holy shit, did he wear it well. Startling emerald eyes
fringed by long, dark lashes stared at me with such intensity that, for a split
second, I forgot to breathe. His sharp features were softened by flawless, pale
skin and full lips, and I wondered what they would feel like pressed against my
own. In that briefest of moments, I knew I was in trouble as my head began
waging a war with my heart so fierce, I didn’t know whether to pull him in for
a kiss or run for my life.
All I could do was wait for him to say something… anything
to break the tension.
On June 12, 2016, the most horrendous mass shooting in US
history and an unfathomable act of hate was directed at the LGBT community in
Orlando. The horror of this tragedy reverberated around the world, leaving
millions shocked and appalled at the senseless violence that destroyed so many
innocent lives. In a display of solidarity with the victims and survivors of
the Pulse nightclub shooting, a group of LGBTQ+ and straight allies, from all
across the globe, came together to produce a collection of poems in celebration
of love and acceptance. The resulting Love is Love Poetry Anthology is
dedicated to the families and victims of the shooting and all proceeds of this
work will be donated to Equality Florida's Pulse Victims Fund.
In this small way, the authors, along with the readers who
purchase this work, seek to contribute to the lives of those who still suffer
from the consequences of the malice directed toward them, and offer some positivity
and compassion in the face of such bigotry.
Contributing Authors:
AC Benus, Aditus, Andrew Jericho, Ann Anderson, Ash Marie,
Asta Idonea, Betti Gefecht, Cam Kennedy, Cynus Eldranai, Darren White, dughlas,
Eddy LeFey, Eden Winters, EmiGS Em, F.E. Feeley Jr., Gelybi , Headstall, Jack
L. Pyke, Jana Denardo, Jason Frazier, Jay Rookwood, J.L. Merrow, Karina Rye,
Kathy Griffith, Kay Ellis, Kaye P. Hallows, Kit Loffstadt, Laura B. Damone,
Layla Dorine, Lily G. Blunt, L.J. Harris, L.M. Somerton, Louis Stevens, L.S.K
Harris, L.V. Lloyd, Lynn Michaels, Maggie Chatterton, Maria Siopis, Monika De
Giorgi, Parker Owens, Patricia Nelson, Pelaam, Petra Howard, Ravyn Bryce, Rick
R. Reed, Ruski, Valik and Addy, S.J. Davis, Skylar M. Cates, Star Brady, Steve
Baldry, Susan Crane, Tamara Miles, Tash Hatzipetrou, Tim Landon, Tracy Gee,
Vicki Tubridy, Victoria Kinnaird, and Wendy Rathbone.
This story was originally included in the SECOND CHANCES
Anthology released in August 2012.
Days after arriving in Australia for a working holiday, Zack
Doherty is blindsided by the connection he instantly feels to Heath Connors,
but circumstances don’t work in their favour. Zack is uncharacteristically
forward in pushing Heath to accept a date when fate gives him a second
opportunity.
Heath has only recently had the courage to admit his true
self, walking away from his marriage and a good job when he could no longer lie
to himself. The attraction he feels for a stranger that fleetingly crossed his
path confirms he made the right choice.
Will Zack be the one to mend Heath’s heart of glass?
EXCERPT:
Zack Doherty
IT WAS EARLY on Friday morning, and I was beat. Ever since
I’d touched down in Sydney on Tuesday, I’d been sleeping during the day and
lying awake at night, having not quite adjusted to the time difference.
Although the jet lag was literally killing me, I needed to start the newest
phase of my life, and my first plan of action was to get the hell out of bed
and look for a job.
I already missed the life I’d built back in San Francisco—my
family and friends, even my crappy job at a local bar I’d taken after cutbacks
forced me to leave the job I loved. But after suffering a bad break-up
with Trent Forster, the man I thought I’d one day marry until I found him in
bed with his ex-boyfriend, I had needed a little time and a lot of
space to rethink the direction my life was headed.
It had been more than six months since that day, yet I still
hadn’t managed to move on. Everywhere I’d looked, Trent had been there; our
social circles colliding so often that his and his lover’s presence had worn me
down. Eventually deciding enough was enough, I’d packed my bags, my tail tucked
firmly between my legs, and departed for Australia for a working holiday,
leaving behind the only life I’d ever known.
My father had returned here to Canberra, south-west of
Sydney, the place he was born, when I’d moved out of the house to finish
college, a year or so after he and Mom divorced. I was looking forward to not
only making a fresh start but also reconnecting with him, having only managed
to visit a mere handful of times since he’d returned here ten long years ago. I
was giving myself six months to find a job, and if I liked it, I’d probably end
up extending my stay and finding a place of my own.
Dad had returned to the job he loved since coming home. It
was the very same job he’d had when he first met Mom—working in public affairs
for the US Embassy—and it kept him extremely busy. So busy, in fact, that he
rarely had the opportunity to take his beloved Mustang out for a spin,
especially since the Embassy provided him with a car for work purposes. I’d
only been in the house for a few minutes when he handed me the keys to the
Candy Apple Red ’67 Fastback, telling me it needed to be driven around town
from time to time to keep it in running order.
After a quick reviving shower and shave, I grabbed the car
keys from the dish on the sideboard, happy that I finally had the chance to
oblige him.
It had been five years since I’d sat behind the wheel of
this particular vehicle. No matter how many times I opened the door and jumped
in, the familiar smell of tobacco, mint, and leather never failed to invoke
many happy memories ... so many, in fact, that I had a hard time keeping a
smile off my face whenever I slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
But when I decided to go for a drive and check out Dad’s
place of work, stopping off at the store on the way to buy a newspaper so I
could check out the local job market, I thanked the gods for their gift,
because if not for my father’s generosity, I’d never have encountered
... him.
He was washing car windows at the traffic lights. He
was tall, tanned, and lean with broad shoulders. I could tell his hair was
long, thick, and wavy by the wisps of light brown hair that peeked out every
which way from underneath his black, woollen hat. A smattering of stubble
across his jaw and his long, narrow nose enhanced his features perfectly, and
when I caught sight of his bright blue eyes as he moved closer, the most
beautiful eyes I’d ever seen, roving over the entire car before they met with
mine, I was hooked in an instant.
I had to suppress a laugh when I noticed he was wearing one
of those god-awful green glow-in-the-dark vests, and as he stood there, holding
a squeegee in his hand and looking at me like I was something to eat, a strange
but exhilarating combination of embarrassment and elation flowed through my
every cell. Even as the light turned green and the traffic began to move,
I continued to devour every inch of him. Shooting him a nervous wink for good
measure, I watched as he turned and walked away, his ass swaying hypnotically
with every step he took. It was in that moment as I sat there, ogling the most
handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, that I felt as though I’d been struck by
lightning.
BLURB
A trip to the dentist has never been so... interesting
Aiden Cooper, a workaholic banker with little time for a personal life, let alone romance, finds himself in a bit of a pickle when his wisdom teeth start giving him trouble. Upon visiting a new dentist, he ends up getting quite a bit more than he bargained for.
Sebastian Gibbs makes no apology for who he is or what he wants. The moment a patient walks through the door of his dental surgery he wonders if, for the first time in his life, he can have it all.
EXCERPT:
“BOLLOCKS.” I
winced at the effort it took to swallow the wedge of pickle-covered cheese that
had lodged in the back of my throat. It was Tuesday, and yet, as I sat at the
bar of the Thistle and Lion, unable to avoid the accompanying pain as I tried and
failed to eat my ploughman’s lunch, it felt like the week had already begun to
drag.
I’d had the
mother of all headaches for two days, and throbbing gums for three, the pain so
bloody awful I’d been forced to take time off work. Inhaling ibuprofen hadn’t helped
much either, while a good night’s sleep had continued to elude me. In a
nutshell, I was tired, cranky, and everything above my shoulders hurt.
Even my
sodding hair.
Henry
Anderson had been my dentist since I was a lad, but had up and retired earlier
in the year. Since I broke into a cold sweat at the thought of a check-up, let
alone anything more invasive, I’d never quite gotten around to finding a replacement
for the only man able to deal with my phobias.
It was
fortunate for me that my sister, Rachel, had managed to secure an appointment with
a dentist who’d opened a new practice down the road from her place of work. She’d
been gushing nonstop about how wonderful the bloke was, too, so I figured there’d
be no harm in giving him a try. It wasn’t as though I had much choice in the
matter. I’d contacted every other practitioner in the area, and they’d all been
booked solid several weeks in advance.
Giving up on
the idea of a decent meal, I ordered a pint of lager, hoping the added alcohol
would help keep my hunger at bay. Maybe even provide a bit of Dutch courage. Once
I’d downed my last mouthful, I headed for the men’s bathroom to floss and brush.
It was torture, yes, but no sense in grossing out the new dentist with beer-and-pickle
breath.
~~~
London sun
shining and the air brisk with mid-October winds, I made my way across the
cobbled alleyway that was a stone’s throw from the city centre. A few moments
later, I was standing in the foyer of the Holistic Solutions Clinic. After checking
the directory, I climbed a single flight of stairs, passing by chiropractors, acupuncturists,
and everything in between.
I was certain
the name on suite door number ten, Acacia Dental Spa, was a contradiction in terms.
I doubted anything
on offer came close to being spa-like.
With a deep
breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Décor a soothing green, covering
the entire wall behind the reception desk was a rippled panel of glass, the
water as it flowed down its surface creating a tranquil ambience. The adjacent
waiting area was filled with comfortable-looking chairs where several people
sat, most of them appearing quite relaxed.
“Aiden
Cooper, is it?” The bespectacled, pretty redheaded nurse regarded me, her kind
expression helping keep a handle on my nerves.
“Yes.”
Whimpering, I ran a finger along my tender jaw.
She tapped a
few keys on the computer. “You’re here to see about getting your wisdom teeth removed,
correct?”
“Yes,” I
repeated.
“We’ll do our
best to take care of that for you. This way, please.” File in hand, she stood
and directed me to follow her to the last room at the end of a long hallway,
sliding said file into a pocket on the back of the door the second it clicked
shut. After instructing me to take a seat in the faux-leather dental chair, she
clasped a paper bib around my neck.
“Dr. Gibbs will
be along in a moment. In the meantime, try to relax.”
She opened
the door to a small refrigerator and took out a pitcher of water, then poured
me a glass.
“Thank you.”
“You’re most
welcome.” When she picked up a small remote and pressed a few buttons, the
chair began to vibrate, while several nodules kneaded the tense muscles of my
back.
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