Monday, March 7, 2022

Monday Morning's Menu: Corked by Brigham Vaughn



Summary:

A young, hotshot sommelier.

A redheaded wine distributor with a temper.

Lucas Spencer is determined to liven up the stodgy wine list at the restaurant where he’s recently been hired. His brash approach alienates Sean Powell, the restaurant's longtime distributor. There’s no avoiding each other though and the more they butt heads, the hotter the tension between them gets.

Blending their professional frustration and personal attraction without risking their careers isn’t easy though, and an eleven-year age difference makes Sean doubt that the feelings are mutual. A wine tasting trip to Traverse City, Michigan ignites jealousy and insecurities and finally forces them to decide if their relationship will age like a fine wine or if it’s corked.

Originally released in 2018. Re-released in 2020 with a new cover and minor editorial tweaks only. The story content remains unchanged.

Corked
Original Review May 2018:
With the horrendous day Sean Powell was having he was at least looking forward to ending it with a little chat with his friend and sommelier at Bistro Argent as they talked over the wine order, what he wasn't expecting was to discover his friend had retired and in his place was the young new sommelier Lucas Spencer.  Lucas is hoping to update the wine list at the restaraunt but his first meeting with the distributer doesn't go as he planned.  When Sean and Lucas can't deny their attraction any more will their love of wine be enough to build something lasting?

First and foremost, I have to admit to you all that I really hate wine.  Perhaps "hate" is a bit strong but I'd rather have a Tom Collins with my meal than a glass of wine.  Now, you don't have to enjoy wine to enjoy Corked but I think it speaks to the talent of the author when one of the characters(and yes I feel the wine is such a factor to the story that its a character all on its own) is not liked and the reader is still enthralled.

Speaking of characters, the chemistry between Sean and Lucas is immediate but the boys don't make it easy.  As for Sean, well some probably take an instant dislike to him but as someone who has had the horrendous kind of day that he had I can understand his gruff attitude.  Lucas is adorable, there's just no better way to describe him, he is simply and completely adorable.  Their passion may light up the page but its their inner thoughts that give Corked its heart.  Not everyone likes alternating POVs but personally, I love them.  Being able to see inside each character's soul just makes the story more realistic and emotional for me, it helps me connect to them.

I read Sean and Lucas' journey in its original novella form Wine Tasting Series and I loved it, the tweaking and additions Brigham Vaughn has made as she released it in one story, Corked, has only made it even better.  Some times when an author or director adds material to their original work it really only clutters the story but not this time.  If you loved their journey in the original series you will be head over heels with this version and if you never experienced Wine Tasting Series than you are in for a real treat.

Originally published as the "Wine Tasting Series":
Original Trilogy Reviews May 2014:
Spit and Swallow #1
An awesome read from an awesome author! Definitely check it out!

Aftertaste #2
Once again, she does it! How she keeps doing, I don't know but I'm so grateful she does.

Finish #3
Such a beautiful conclusion to this amazing novella trilogy.

RATING:



One
Lucas Spencer set an invoice on top of the pile of papers on his new desk, then watched in horror as the entire stack toppled to the floor with a loud rustle. It had been leaning precariously for the better part of an hour, and Lucas had meant to straighten it. Now he had to gather them all up again and hope none had landed on top of the other teetering piles dotting the floor of the cramped office. 

With a heavy sigh, Lucas sat back in his chair, tilting his head from side to side. His neck was stiff, he felt like his eyes were crossed, he had a headache forming, and there was nothing very productive to show for it. 

The sommelier at Bistro Argent being forced to abruptly retire was possibly the best—and worst—thing that had ever happened to Lucas. The best because he had been hired to take his place and working at a restaurant of the caliber of Bistro Argent was a rare opportunity for a sommelier so young. And the worst because the man Lucas had replaced was a packrat. And not an organized one.

In his defense, Roger Horner—the former sommelier—had been plagued with health issues for years. Lucas was trying to cut the guy some slack, but he’d spent three days trying to sort through the man’s office and make some sense of things, and he felt like he hadn’t gotten anywhere. 

Lucas stood with a groan and stretched. Something in his back popped, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if it had relieved the pressure or broken something completely. “Less sitting, more moving around,” he muttered under his breath. As an active person, spending this much time behind a desk was miserable. 

Lucas gathered up the fallen papers, deciding he’d take a break and get a feel for the bar. He’d done his research before he accepted the job and Bistro Argent had a reputation for having a solid—if not particularly exciting—wine list and a very boring cocktail selection. He had plans for the wine list. The bar was a still a big question mark in his mind. 

It was a Monday, the one day of the week when the restaurant was closed, and he was there trying to get up to speed before his first official day of work. A sommelier friend of the owner’s had been filling in for the past few weeks while they searched for Roger’s replacement. He’d done his best to bring Lucas up to speed, but Lucas still felt wildly unprepared. 

The building was deserted, and Lucas enjoyed the peace and quiet as he walked through the dining space. Snowy white linens covered the tables, and silverware gleamed under the dim lights. Brown leather banquettes and booths broke up the room and helped create a cozy atmosphere. Exposed brick walls, sparkling light fixtures, and a wood-wrapped bar gave it a hip, yet upscale vibe. The setting was perfect, the food was impeccable, and it was his job to find a wine and cocktail menu that would enhance both. 

Unfortunately, as Lucas slipped behind the bar to peruse the cocktail menu and the selection, his fears were confirmed. The current selection was pitiful. There was nothing wrong with classic martinis, manhattans, and cosmopolitans. In fact, they were crucial to the menu, but they needed some signature cocktails to liven things up. In an economy like the one they were currently dealing with, a restaurant had to do something to set itself apart from the competition. A staid, boring cocktail menu wasn’t going to attract younger patrons. The chef and owner, Richard Brayden, had done a wonderful job with the food—it was a fresh take on Parisian bistro fare, and he seemed open to the ideas Lucas had for wine pairings and cocktails, but it was always tricky starting out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be stepping on any of the bartenders’ toes by shaking things up a bit. 

Lucas leaned on the bar and scribbled a few notes for himself, lost in thoughts of herb-infused cocktails and artisanal mixers. The sound of someone clearing their throat made him jump. 

He turned, expecting to see Richard, the executive chef, or maybe Marilee, the head hostess and front of the house manager. 

A tall, red-haired man stood at the end of the bar. Lucas managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor, but it took a moment for him to do anything but stare. He had a weakness for redheads, and this guy hit all the right buttons. The height, the pale, freckled skin, and the blue-gray eyes, in addition to the shock of red hair, all added up to make a very, very attractive picture.

When Lucas realized he’d been staring long enough to make it uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and walked to the end of the bar. “Hey there. Can I, uh, help you with something?” 

Although, if Lucas wasn’t mistaken, the man was checking him out as well. He hoped the simple pair of jeans and the T-shirt he was wearing weren’t too casual. He certainly hadn’t expected to run into anyone here today, much less someone he’d like to impress. 

The redheaded guy smiled and held out a hand to him. “I don’t recognize you. You must be new.” 

“I am,” Lucas admitted, reaching out to shake. “I haven’t even officially started. I’m just here trying to get a feel for things.” 

His gaze flicked over Lucas with interest. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sean Powell with Metro Wine and Liquor Distributors. Do you know if Roger is around?” 

“Uhh,” Lucas said, “he retired.” 

Sean blinked at him for a moment. “He what?” 

“Retired. A couple weeks ago. A friend of Richard’s has been filling in, in the meantime, but I just got hired as his replacement.” 

Sean let out a disbelieving sounding snort. “You? You have to be kidding me.” 

“Excuse me?” Lucas said, bristling.

“You don’t look like you’d know the difference between a pinot gris and a pinot noir,” Sean scoffed. “Come on. You’re a bartender, maybe. But I have a hard time believing you’re qualified to apprentice for this job, much less take Roger’s place.” 

Lucas folded his arms across his chest and stared at Sean. “I am more than qualified. My name is Lucas Spencer, and I’ve been hired as sommelier for Bistro Argent.” His voice was as cold as the air in the industrial freezer in the kitchen. 

“Fucking great,” Sean muttered under his breath as he dug through the leather satchel he had over his shoulder. “They hired a pretty boy who won’t know shit about wine. That’s the last thing I need to deal with today.” 


Sean Powell’s day had been shitty from the moment he woke up to realize he’d hit snooze on his alarm and fallen back to sleep for an extra forty minutes. He’d cut himself shaving in the shower, dropped raspberry jam on his favorite shirt, and, as he went flying out the door, realized his phone charger wasn’t working. Things had gone further downhill with a fairly substantial client choosing not to renew their contract, a pricey case of wine that had needed to be returned because it had gone bad, and a flat tire on his SUV. He’d called roadside assistance to get it changed, but it had pushed back his schedule even further, and he’d wound up stuck in the usual snarl of Chicago area commuters returning to the suburbs, which he was usually able to avoid.

He was done. 

Thankfully, the last client on his list was Bistro Argent. He always enjoyed dealing with Roger, the sommelier there, and at least, his day should end on a good note. The men had known each other for years, and they often talked over a nice bottle of wine while they did business. 

Roger liked to come in on what was technically his day off and putter in his unholy mess of an office, and Sean tried to time his visits accordingly. It had been nearly a month since he’d had a chance to drop by, but he had a couple new wines he thought Roger might want to sample and put on the menu. He hoped anyway. If there was one bad thing about his friend—other than his disorganization—it was that he wasn’t as adventurous with the wine selection as Sean thought he could be. Still, he’d keep trying. 

The back door that led into the kitchen was unlocked as usual, and Sean immediately headed for Roger’s office. To his surprise, it was empty, and it looked like he’d been in the middle of sorting through his papers. That was a shock; in the eight years they’d known each other, Sean hadn’t once seen him make the smallest attempt. Rogert always knew where everything was, so Sean didn’t really care how much of a slob he was. Still, it would be nice to be able to take a seat without having to move stacks of paper around. 

Wondering where the hell Roger was, and what sudden compunction had compelled him to clean his office, Sean headed for the front of the bistro. To his surprise, instead of the rather rotund, middle-aged man with thinning gray hair he was used to seeing, he was confronted with the most spectacular ass he’d ever seen. Definitely not Roger’s. Sean stared for a moment, taking in the round firmness in a pair of snug dark jeans. Whoever the man was, he was leaning on the bar, and Sean had the sudden urge to walk up behind him and see if his ass was as pinchable as it looked. He cleared his throat at the sudden rush of arousal that flooded through him and watched as the man stood. He was tall—really tall—several inches over Sean’s six foot height, and built. Not huge and bulky, but he had impressively broad shoulders, muscled arms, and even in the plain black T-shirt he wore, Sean could tell his stomach was flat and toned. And that was just his body. His face was equally gorgeous. He was one of those guys who somehow pulled off the pretty but masculine look. His square jaw was covered in a hint of dark blond stubble, he had high cheekbones, stylishly-cut blond hair, and the most stunning blue-green eyes Sean had ever seen. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, and Sean tried not to whimper. 

Holy shit, he even sounds good. 

Sean introduced himself, assuming he was the new bartender they’d just hired. He didn’t normally flirt on the job, but damn. For this guy, he could make an exception. Richard would give him shit, but he really didn’t care. 

Unfortunately, the flirtatious banter he was expecting took a sharp turn when he realized that Roger had retired without telling him and that the hot guy wasn’t a bartender like he assumed but Roger’s replacement. Sean was none too happy to find that out. 

“Fucking great,” Sean muttered, digging through his bag to find his phone. He needed to get ahold of Roger and see what the hell was going on. “They hired a pretty-boy who won’t know shit about wine.

That’s the last thing I need to deal with today.” 

He finally found his phone and pulled it out, only to remember that the battery was dead. “Son of a bitch,” he swore. He looked up to see the other man still glowering at him. Lucas or whatever his name was. 

“Pretty boy?” Lucas asked scathingly. “Are you kidding me? And who the fuck are you to judge my abilities as a sommelier? I’ve been working in restaurants since I was seventeen, took sommelier courses, and passed with flying colors. I apprenticed under a Master Sommelier and have worked on my own for the last three years. I have every intention of becoming a certified Master Sommelier myself in the near future.” 

Though he didn’t say it aloud, there was a clear fuck you in his voice. Sean felt slightly abashed. Becoming a certified Master Sommelier was similar to getting a master’s degree in wine. Fewer than two hundred people worldwide held the title, and if this guy—who looked to be in his late twenties at the most—was aiming for the title; he was ambitious. Still, Sean had no intention of trusting the guy at his word that he knew wine. 

“I’ve known plenty of people with more training and experience than that with absolutely no taste,” Sean snapped. 

“Yeah, well, my predecessor clearly had taste but little imagination,” Lucas replied. “I’m going to be making some changes around here.”

Sean snarled at him, offended by the way Lucas spoke about his friend. And his arrogance. “Do you really think you can just waltz in here and shake things up for the hell of it?” 

“I’m not doing it just for the hell of it,” Lucas replied, bracing one arm on the counter and leaning in toward Sean. “The wine and cocktail menu is stodgy.” 

“This is the problem with you young people,” Sean sputtered. He groaned to himself the moment the words left his mouth. He sounded ancient saying that, but he was tired of restaurants hiring too-young staff who were more focused on trendiness than quality. 

“I’m thirty-one years old!” Lucas shouted. 

Okay, so he wasn’t quite as young as Sean had initially thought, but he was still eleven years younger than Sean. Just as well Lucas was an arrogant prick because no matter how attractive he was, there was way too much of an age gap there. Getting in bed with Lucas would really make him feel old. 

What a shame though, he thought wistfully. Even pissed off—maybe especially because he was pissed off—Lucas looked incredible. Sean could imagine all that snarling energy directed at him and he felt a little weak in the knees at the thought. The full lips bruising his with a hard kiss, the strong hands gripping his body tightly, the tight muscles bunching as he drove into Sean … Christ, if he wasn’t careful, he was going to have one hell of an erection to try to hide. 

Sean stuttered out an angry retort, promised to return on Thursday, and fled, confused, embarrassed, and aroused.


Sean Powell, or whoever the fuck he is, is an insufferable ass, Lucas fumed to himself as he stomped back to his new office. After insulting him, then staring at him like he was hoping Lucas would spontaneously combust, he had muttered something about coming back on Thursday morning and then disappeared. 

Lucas slammed his office door shut and watched in horror as another precarious pile of papers slid from the desk onto the floor. Resisting the urge to bang his head against the desk—because with his luck, it would upset more of the stacks—he muttered angrily to himself and knelt to pick up the papers. Again. Deciding he’d stay as late as it took to get things somewhat under control, he took a seat at the desk again and got to work again. 

Hours later, he was startled by a knock on his door. For the restaurant being closed today, there sure was a lot of traffic. 

“Lucas? You in there?” A familiar voice called out. 

“Yeah, come in,” he said, not even looking up from the paperwork in front of him. “Hey, Richard.” 

Lucas had been surprised by how casual Richard Brayden was. He’d worked with a number of chefs over the years and most had massive egos. In many restaurants, there was a clear delineation between the chef and the rest of the staff. Also, distance between the kitchen staff and the people working the front of the house. Ideally, a good sommelier bridged that gap and got everyone to mix, but a tyrannical and egotistical chef could make that difficult. The prestige of working at Bistro Argent was nothing to sneer at, but the urgency to get the position filled and the difficulty of sorting through Roger’s mess had nearly convinced Lucas to turn down the job offer. It was Richard’s firm but friendly demeanor that had been the deciding factor for him. He knew he was going to like working for the man. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here so late. I stopped to grab some paperwork in my office and was surprised to see you still here,” Richard said. 

Lucas looked up at Richard and forced a smile onto his face despite his sour mood. Richard had a concerned, almost fatherly air about him, and he was, in fact, old enough to have given birth to Lucas. “I’m still trying to get everything in order.” 

Richard sighed and lifted a stack of papers from the chair, glancing at Lucas to confirm that it was all right, before he set them on the floor. “I’m sorry you have to deal with such a mess. Roger wanted to get his papers organized before he left, but his doctors were adamant that he take things easy. His health is precarious right now, and he has some heart procedures scheduled for this week. You’re a saint for taking this on, to be honest.” 

“It’s … daunting,” Lucas admitted. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Richard offered, the concern in his tone palpable. “I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed. We’re all very grateful you’re here and working so hard to get up to speed.”

“I’m happy to be here,” Lucas said. “And once this is all straightened out, I think I’m going to love the job.” 

Richard beamed at him. “Excellent.” 

“You know,” Lucas added thoughtfully, “there may be something you can help with, actually. I have a couple questions for you.” 

“I’m pleased to help in any way I can. Go right ahead.” 

Richard answered the questions Lucas had, which did untangle a few issues he’d been struggling with. Knowing he could shred the older papers helped. At least, he didn’t have to try to find a place to store everything, which made his life easier. 

“We’ll get you some extra file cabinets, too,” Richard added. “In fact, I think I have some in my basement at home. Would you like me to bring them over?” 

“That would be fantastic,” Lucas said with a relieved smile. “I think this will be manageable now. Thank you so much.” 

“Happy to help,” Richard replied. “Now, I’m afraid I have to head out. I have a wife who’s probably going to be wondering what’s taking me so long to get back.” 

Lucas chuckled and stood. “I think I’ll head out as well.” 

“Wife or girlfriend waiting for you, too?” Richard asked as Lucas gathered his things.

He hesitated for a moment, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t cause any problems with his boss. But he’d been out of the closet for years, and he wasn’t about to go back in. “Well, in my case, it would be a boyfriend or husband. But no, I’m single at the moment.” 

Richard nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your freedom then. I love my wife to pieces, but sometimes, I miss my bachelor days.” 

Lucas felt the tension in him recede at the lack of reaction on his boss’s part. “I’ll be honest; I’m more of a relationship kind of guy, but it isn’t always that easy to meet people.” 

He and Richard chatted about relationships on their way out of the building. “You know, our wine distributor is gay,” Richard said. “He’s maybe ten or so years older than you, but he’s a great guy and single as far as I’m aware.” 

Lucas stopped in his tracks. “Sean? The redheaded guy?” 

Richard gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah. You met him? I mean, maybe he’s not your type, but I just thought I’d throw it out there.” 

“No, that’s fine.” Lucas waved off the fact that his boss was trying to set him up with a guy, which was a little surprising but not the biggest issue at the moment. “We met earlier today when he dropped by. But I’m afraid we didn’t have a great introduction. In fact, he was kind of an asshole,” he admitted.

“Sean?” Richard’s bushy gray eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “You have to be kidding me. He’s a pretty mild-mannered guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be a jerk.” 

“Yeah, well, I hate to speak ill of someone you obviously like,” Lucas said, starting to feel uncomfortable. “But he was pretty pissed at the fact that I took over for Roger.” 

“Oh, shit.” Richard blanched. “Fuck! I was supposed to call Sean about what was going on. Roger asked me to, but it must have slipped my mind. They’re pretty friendly, and Roger asked if I’d let him know.” 

“Hmm. Maybe that’s why he was so abrasive,” Lucas mused. “He didn’t think much of my plans for the wine and cocktail menus, either.” 

“Let me call Sean, and, hopefully, I can smooth things over. He is quite protective of his wines, so I think you just started out on the wrong foot. I’ll see what I can do to make things right.” 

“Thanks,” Lucas said gratefully. “I don’t want to piss anyone off or step on any toes. I just want to have a part in giving the diners here the best possible experience I can.” 

“And that’s what Sean wants, too,” Richard assured him. “I think you probably just ruffled his feathers. We’ll get it straightened out, and I’m sure you two will get along famously after that.” With a hearty clap on the shoulder, Richard headed toward his car. “It’ll be fine, Lucas. Leave it to me.” 

Lucas wanted to believe him and give Sean the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t help wondering if Sean was really as nice a guy as Richard thought he was.

Lucas chuckled to himself as he climbed into his car though. Richard had actually been right though; Sean was definitely his type. Well, other than being a complete jackass. The arguments were kind of hot though. He had a feeling that the more heated his arguments got with Sean the more he was going to end up fantasizing about him and he smiled to himself. 

Jerking off during his morning shower thinking about disagreement turning into passionate wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.


Author Bio:
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga.  She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.

Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.

To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.


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EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com 



Week at a Glance: 2/28/22 - 3/6/22

















Sunday, March 6, 2022

Sunday's Short Story: St. David's Day, 1848 by Frank W Butterfield



Summary:

A Nick & Carter Holiday #6
Wednesday, March 1, 1848

It's the dark and early morning hours of St. David's Day and Griffith Williams, nestled and cozy next to his dear friend, Gwyn, is abruptly awakened by a man who calls out in a strange voice.

"Great-grandfather?"

Griffy is startled to see the shimmering form of a handsome man with bright and shining eyes. And they're a color of brown he's not seen before.

The face, however, is more than a little familiar. With a dimple in the chin, it brings to mind memories of his late father, his tad, David.

Is it evil or is it good which has brought forth this ghostly vision?

Beyond the veil and away from the rivers of time, Paul Williams is organizing a small party.

A luncheon, if you will.

He has summoned Nicholas, his great-nephew, and Janet, his great-niece, and has asked their beloveds to join in the festivities.

The main course of their other-worldly meal will be a plain but sumptuous cawl cennin, a leek and potato soup, the perfect dish for a Welsh holiday.

And the guest of honor?

His very own father, Griffith Williams.

Paul has a message and the time, as it were, has come for him to deliver it.

On St. David's Day, no less.

This is a short story, set mostly outside of time, and containing about 5,100 words.


Again, having not read any of Nick and Carter's journey previously, I felt like there might be a question or two that went unanswered for me but they were "holes" that didn't effect this short story.  I was never lost.  Truth is, St. David's Day, 1848 is outside the era parameters in the series descriptions done in a way that is both dream and fantasy.    

I won't say too much for those who like me have yet to discover Frank W Butterfield's Nick and Carter saga but I will say, I loved the uniqueness of St. David's Day, 1848.  The blending of dream, fantasy, historical, and family really worked here and has furthered my hunger to one day read Nick and Carter from the beginning.  Short, sweet, and highly entertaining.

RATING:



Along the River Taff
Rhydyfelin, Wales
Wednesday, March 1, 1848
Early morning 
Nick walked aboard the boat tied up alongside the rickety dock and, ducking his head, made his way through the door and inside the cabin. He knew it was chilly inside. However, in the small kitchen on the forward end of the boat, he could see a bit of light coming from the stove. He figured there was some coal inside, doing its best to keep the place warm. 

In the dark, the interior looked older than he remembered from when he'd visited in his dreams. There was more junk, for one thing, and he had the sense that a kind of dank smell permeated the place. 

That made him think of Carter which, for whatever reason, seemed to light up the room for a brief moment. 

Smiling to himself, Nick turned and went into the aft part of the boat and found a narrow bed there, pushed to one side. It was covered with a thick pile of wool blankets, none of which were very clean. 

Under the heavy covers, he saw the blond head of the man he knew to be Gwyn Owen, his great-grandfather's close friend and lover. Gwyn was snoring, his head bent back a little and his thin nose pointing straight up. A little ball of spit was resting in the corner of the man's mouth.

Just tucked under his chin was the dark and tousled head of Griffith Williams, Nick's great-grandfather. 

Neither man was clean, to say the least, and Nick knew the room smelled to high heaven. He was glad Carter hadn't come with him. If he had, his ethereal nose would have been twitching in disgust. Thinking of Carter made the room light up, again. 

Gwyn frowned in his sleep and turned on his side. 

Griffy (that was the nickname Gwyn had used when Nick had met them in his dreams) shifted as well. Doing so made the covers slip off his face. Reaching up from under, he used a grimy finger to scratch his nose. 

"Great-grandfather?" 

Griffy sighed to himself but didn't open his eyes. 

"Great-grandfather?" 

Taking a deep breath and then coughing, Griffy shifted in the bed again. That movement made Gwyn mutter to himself. Nick had no idea what the man was saying. He couldn't tell if it was Welsh or just the sounds that a deep sleeper made when he was disturbed. 

"Griffy?" asked Nick. 

"What be?" muttered his great-grandfather, his eyes still closed. 

"Wake up." 

Finally, the man's eyes opened. He took one look at the Nick's ghostly form standing by his bed and frowned.


Nick Williams Mystery Series
In 1953, the richest homosexual in San Francisco is a private investigator.

Nick Williams lives in a modest bungalow with his fireman husband, a sweet fellow from Georgia by the name of Carter Jones.

Nick's gem of a secretary, Marnie Wilson, is worried that Nick isn't working enough. She knits a lot.

Jeffrey Klein, Esquire, is Nick's friend and lawyer. He represents the guys and gals who get caught in police raids in the Tenderloin.

Lt. Mike Robertson is Nick's first love and best friend. He's a good guy who's one hell of a cop.

The Unexpected Heiress is where their stories begin. Read along and fall in love with the City where cable cars climb halfway to the stars.

Long before the Summer of Love, pride parades down Market Street, and the fight for marriage equality, San Francisco was all about the Red Scare, F.B.I. investigations, yellow journalism run amok, and the ladies who play mahjong over tea.


Saturday Series Spotlights
Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Part 3
Nick & Carter Holiday Series
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!

This is a series of short stories with each centered around a specific holiday.

From New Year's Day to Boxing Day, each story stands on its own and might occur in any year from the early 1920s to the first decade of the 21st Century.




Author Bio:
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.


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St. David's Day, 1848 #6

Series


Saturday, March 5, 2022

Saturday's Series Spotlight: Guardian Angels Security by Sean Ashcroft




Guarded #1
Summary:
Hooking up with a hot bodyguard? Sounds awesome. Until you actually need one…

Miles: All I could think as I answered the door to my hotel room was jackpot.

Gray turned out to be a fun hookup—and a professional bodyguard, which was hotter than I ever would have admitted.

Then I suddenly needed one, and, well… who else was I going to hire? I didn’t think it was anything serious at first, but now my life is being turned upside down and I’m just as scared as I was when I was a kid. Gray’s more than just easy on the eyes—he’s safe. He makes me feel safe.

I know I can’t keep him when all this is over, I know he’d never want a skinny rich kid for a boyfriend, but it’s hard not to dream…

Gray: I’d given him my business card, hadn’t I?

Miles had been cute and fun when I first hooked up with him, and I’d been hoping for a call. What I hadn’t expected was for the call to end in a job offer, instead of another round in a hotel room.

But Miles really does need my help, and I need a new client to stop my fledgling security business going under. It’s a match made in heaven, right?

Or it would be if I didn’t want to wrap him up in a blanket and kiss him to sleep.

Guarded is a full-length, complete gay romance with a HEA ending, and the first book in the Guardian Angels Security series—wait until you meet the rest of the boys! It contains: a hotel room hookup, a self-defense dress shoe, a rainbow bookshelf, two jars of cookie butter, steamy sex scenes, a not-quite-mustache-twirling villain, and true love conquering all.



Gifted #2
Summary:
The last thing closeted musician Quinn needs is to walk in on his hot, British private investigator fresh from the shower before he gets his towel on.

And that's not even the most embarrassing thing that's happened to him today.

Quinn: Private investigators aren't supposed to be hot.

But with his sexy scar and devil-may-care attitude, Fox hits all my buttons. I'm not allowed to be gay, but he's perfect enough to make me want to break the rules. As if that wasn't bad enough, he's the only person who seems to care about how miserable I am.

With my career on the line and no one else to turn to, Fox makes me feel safe in a way no one else ever has. Maybe I can be myself if he's sticking around? Maybe the rules aren't as important as I thought they were.

If I can just finish this album and keep my contract, maybe I could keep him, too...

Fox: After all the hell I gave my business partner for falling into bed with a client, I'll never live down how much I like Quinn. Tiny and adorable, just my type, and in desperate need of someone to take care of him.

I want to take care of him in every possible way. Between his cruel uncle, callous record company, and whoever's trying to ruin his career before it even takes off, I want to bundle him up in bed and make him forget all about it for a few hours.

He's impossible to resist, and I've promised him everything's going to be all right. Now I just need to find a way to make that happen...

Gifted is a full-length, complete gay romance with a HEA ending, and the second book in the Guardian Angels Security series. It contains: an unfortunate incident with an adult video, multiple peanut butter cups, steamy scenes, a motorcycle named Blaze, a picnic under the stars, and true love conquering all.


Glittered #3
Summary:
Logan’s boss warned him this job was unusual, but he wasn’t expecting the client to be an upbeat drag queen with a strip of pink lace showing above the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s straight, but he’s left trying not to think about how nice Ashley’s butt is while he pretends he’s got this bodyguarding thing all figured out—despite having no experience with this kind of situation.

Ashley has a stalker, and he’s run out of options for escape. The only thing he can do is pack up his life in San Francisco and move back to his Arizona hometown. At his grandma’s insistence, Logan’s there to protect him until he can make it to safety. A strictly professional relationship.

But one drunken kiss leads to a sober one, and the more time Ashley spends with Logan the harder he is to resist.

To Logan’s surprise, he’s starting to feel the same way.

With the threat of the stalker hanging over them and Ashley’s moving date approaching, can they figure out their feelings for each other in time?

Glittered is the third book in the Guardian Angels Security series, but it can be read alone. It features a HEA, as well as: pink lacy underwear, a heart-shaped waxing job, multiple drag queens, drunken kissing, sober kissing, a dwarf lop rabbit, steamy sex scenes, a latent bisexual awakening, and true love conquering all.



Guarded #1
Miles 
All I could think as I answered the door to my hotel room was jackpot. 

The man standing in front of me was tall, broad-shouldered, muscular enough to strain the t-shirt he wore under a soft-looking leather jacket, and smiling like he had something to share with me. 

I really hoped it was his cock. 

“Gray?” I asked. 

It was hard to believe how lucky I’d gotten. My hookups never looked like this, and if they did, their face usually fell when they saw my skinny ass standing on the other side of the door. 

This guy’s pretty blue eyes lit up at the sound of what I assumed was his name.

“Hi there,” he said, voice low and rough and doing all kinds of things to the pit of my stomach. “You must be Miles.” 

“I must be.” 

I must be? 

Way to sound like an asshole in front of the most beautiful man I’d seen in recent memory. A beautiful man who’d come here looking for sex. 

Sex I was suddenly desperate to have with him. 

What had started as a need for company and contact that I would’ve liked to pretend didn’t exist was now a glowing coal of want in my gut. A burning ember of desire for this man. He’d said two words and I was already thinking about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth. 

That’d make this easier. I’d never really gotten the hang of casual sex with strangers, even though it was the only kind I’d had in years. I only did it when the loneliness got to be too much, when I just needed someone to touch me. 

I could already tell this was going to be different. 

“Think I could come in?” Gray asked, glancing past me into the room beyond. The hotel was barely a block from my apartment, a habit I’d gotten into after the first time I’d done this in someone else’s hotel room.

Hotel rooms offered a sense of anonymity. Like it wasn’t really me being desperate and broken and needy, it was just a part I was playing for the night. 

“Of course.” I stepped back from the door, my cheeks heating as he squeezed past me, two hundred pounds or so of solid muscle. The heat rolling off him was incredible. 

The door closed with a sharp click, making me jump. 

Get a grip, Miles. Highly strung much? 

Nervousness was probably normal, but I hated to show it. I wanted to seem confident. 

“How much preamble were you thinking of?” Gray asked. 

Straight to the point. Maybe that should have seemed callous, but I was relieved. At least one of us was going to treat this like the quick fuck it was meant to be. 

I couldn’t help thinking about all the things this man could have done to me. He could have thrown me over his shoulder and dragged me off to his cave to have his way with me. He could have lifted me clear off the ground and fucked me standing in the middle of the room. 

I wished I could trust him enough to let him. But we’d met twenty minutes ago, and I was never going to see him again. Trust took a lot longer than that to build.

While I was busy thinking about it, he closed the gap between us and reached out to my already-loosened tie. “I know I’m a big guy,” he said, lowering his voice to an intimate murmur. “So let me know if I get too rough. Not planning on hurting you.” 

That, for some reason, was enough to remind me where I kept all my confidence. 

I reached out, curling my hands around his shoulders and pushing him back until he hit the wall with a grunt. 

Then, I dropped to my knees. 

I’d started out my evening wanting to suck a cock, and there was a hot, willing man in my hotel room now. Why the hell should I pretend to be coy, or shy, or like I didn’t know exactly what I wanted and wasn’t going to reach out and take it? 

“Okay, straight to business it is,” Gray said above me, already a little breathless. Maybe he liked it when someone else took charge, maybe he just liked that I was doing it. 

Hell, maybe he just wanted me to blow him. Most guys didn’t say no to that. 

I shuffled forward, pressing my nose against his belly. He smelled clean and freshly showered, a generic masculine scent that was probably described as ocean breeze or something on the bottle. 

This was what I wanted. A nice, simple, anonymous fuck. No strings attached, no tender foreplay. Just enough human contact to tide me over until I needed it again.

His skin was warm to the touch as I pushed my fingers up under the fabric of his t-shirt, and I could’ve gotten lost in the feel of it if I hadn’t suddenly caught the edge of a scar. 

A big scar, I thought, but I shied away from tracing the outline of it. It’d caught me off-guard, and I wasn’t sure whether to ignore it or mention that it was hot as hell, so I figured pretending I hadn’t noticed was the best option. 

Instead of exploring further, I turned my attention to the buckle of his belt—simple, classic leather that was supple under my fingers, well-loved and rough around the edges, just like the man wearing it. Well, I couldn’t be sure about the loved part, especially if he was doing anonymous hookups in hotel rooms, but… 

He was definitely just the right amount of rough around the edges, callused fingertips exploring my freshly-shaved jaw and lighting up all the nerve endings under the already sensitive skin. 

His thumb brushed my lower lip and I seized the opportunity to suck it into my mouth, glancing up at him under my eyelashes. He tasted of salt and clean skin as I swirled my tongue around the tip, a needy whimper escaping me. 

I should’ve kissed him when I had the chance. If this was how his skin tasted, how much better would his mouth have been? 

Something about this guy made me want to be as needy as I felt, to not bother hiding it the way I normally would have.

He made me want to let go, and I was having a hard time doing anything else. 

“You smell great,” I murmured around his thumb, wondering if that was weird. I was never self-conscious about this. 

Gray smeared my own spit over my cheek as he moved his thumb away, and that had no right to be as hot as it was. Knowing he could have taken charge but was choosing not to was pushing buttons I didn’t even know I had. 

“You look good like this,” he rumbled in his gorgeous dark-chocolate voice. 

I did look good like this, and I knew it. With that thought in mind, I leaned in again, tugging his shirt up and away so I could breathe in the clean, freshly-washed scent of his skin, familiarly masculine but still unique. 

Gray’s fingers threaded into my hair, and goddamn did I hope he was planning on pulling it. 

I flicked the top button of his fly open, pulling the zipper down with anticipation making my gut flutter, like I was unwrapping a gift. 

Well, no, I actually hated doing that because I was never sure how to react to gifts, but this, I was sure of. I wanted him in my mouth. As soon as possible. 

The swell of his half-hard cock inside his bright green boxer-briefs was one of the most gorgeous sights I’d ever seen. Damn. I really had hit the jackpot this time.

“Promising,” I said, tongue darting out to wet my lips in anticipation. Hot arousal swirled low in my gut, my own cock starting to fill at the sight of him. 

Sometimes, I realized just how gay I was, and it always came as a surprise. 

This was one of those moments. 

“Never made a promise I didn’t keep,” Gray responded, his fingers sliding back to massage the base of my skull. That was actually kind of cute, a little affectionate gesture even though we both knew what we were here for. 

“I’ll bet.” 

The temptation to nuzzle him overwhelmed me as I was trying to decide how to start, my body moving before my brain had a chance to decide. Another jolt of arousal hit me in the pit of my stomach as my nose made contact with the line of his cock, lips following after, pressing wet kisses through the fabric of his underwear. 

His cock shifted as I licked a stripe over the front of his briefs, and I couldn’t have stopped myself from smirking even if I wanted to. I was good at this, and he clearly liked it. 

“Big all over,” I said, suddenly desperate to see his cock without the thin barrier between us. I wished even more now that I was brave enough to push him onto the bed and ride him, but that was too much. Too intimate. Too trusting. 

This was enough. I could fantasize about the rest later.

Too impatient to do anything else, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled down, pushing the fabric out of the way so it was caught behind his balls, putting him on full display. 

Big was kind of an understatement. Gray was… gifted. 

But not so big that I wasn’t going to give getting the whole thing in my mouth a shot. 

“See something you like?” Gray asked, laughter in his voice. 

“Not bad,” I murmured, so breathlessly that I knew it’d be obvious that what I actually meant was holy shit. 

“I bet all the pretty boys love this,” I added, leaning in to press a kiss to the base, letting my cheek rasp over the sensitive skin. Gray’s breath hitched, and his fingers tightened in my hair, so I figured I was moving in approximately the direction he wanted me to. 

“You tell me,” Gray rumbled, only the faintest hint of a strain in his voice. He was good. Unflappable. 

Which only made me want to wreck him more. 

He’d walk away thinking about this blowjob for weeks, I planned to make sure of it. 

The soft curls framing his cock tickled my nose as I nuzzled closer, breathing in his warm, masculine scent.

I looked up, holding his gaze as I licked my way up his cock with the flat of my tongue, lapping away the bead of precome that’d welled up at the head. The salt-tang of it rolled over my tongue, and I watched Gray’s pupils widen as he looked at me. 

Without breaking eye contact, I made a show of sealing my lips around the thick, dark head of his cock. The tiny moan I earned in response trickled all the way down my throat to the pit of my stomach, heat and tension there already making me squirm. My eyes fell closed automatically as I felt the weight of him on my tongue, velvet-soft skin sliding easily into my mouth. 

I couldn’t help a whimper as he spilled precome onto my tongue, the taste and scent of him filling up all my senses. It was almost embarrassing how much I loved doing this, and it was just as well that few men were likely to care or notice as long as they were getting their cock sucked. 

Wrapping one hand around the shaft of his cock while I took some time to warm up, I shoved the other one deep into the sweatpants I was wearing, gripping my own cock tight. 

Gray seemed to like the hiss I made as I touched myself, matching it with one of his own, his fingers tightening in my hair. Damn that felt good. 

“Take it easy, honey,” he murmured, stroking my hair as if to soothe me after pulling it. “No rush. Got me all night if you want me.” 

I really, really did want him all night, but that wasn’t how hookups like this went. He’d get off, then I’d get off, and then we’d say goodnight and go on with our lives.

But he seemed sweet, and I wanted to ease the sting of that by making the getting off part great for him. After all, he’d called me pretty. He was due a reward for that. 

In the interest of making that happen, I tugged on his cock a couple of times, swirling my tongue around the head. His breath hitched, grip tightening again, free hand landing on my shoulder. Already so responsive, and we’d barely gotten started. 

I couldn’t wait to hear what kind of noises he made when he was nudging the back of my throat. 

“Damn you look good like this,” he said. “So hot. I hope everyone tells you that. I hope you’ve got a guy in every town to tell you how good your lips look stretched around his cock.” 

My ears burned at the thought—I wasn’t that hot—but I loved hearing it. 

Unfortunately, Gray was about to lose the ability to form complete sentences, so I wouldn’t hear a whole lot more. 

I moved my hand, curling it over his hip instead of around his cock, and took a deep breath to relax my throat. It’d been a while, but the principle was always the same. Slow and steady. 

A tiny moan escaped me as I swallowed around him, pushing forward, feeling his hot, thick length fill my throat so perfectly I could have cried. The universe had sent me a random hookup who pushed every one of the buttons I needed pushing and a few more I’d forgotten about, and now he was stroking my cheek to feel himself inside my mouth, and I was pouring precome over my own hand, too turned on to think straight.

Not that now was the time to think straight. 

Gray’s fingers brushed against my cheek. He was definitely feeling his cock inside me, and the thought was hot enough to make my head spin and my gut ache with arousal. 

I hummed around him, jaw aching with the strain, my own cock twitching in my hand. 

Gray’s fingers trailing down to the top of my throat was enough to push me right to the edge, and I suddenly needed him to come in my mouth so I could follow him over. 

I swallowed around him, pulling back a little way so I could use my tongue to stroke just under the head, knowing how effective that always was. With the last of my focus, I forced my eyes open again and looked up at him, catching his gaze and holding it as I moved back and forth, taking him as far as I could on every stroke, letting him nudge the back of my throat. 

It was just as well I had my gag reflex under control by now. That came in handy more often than I’d ever imagined it would. 

Gray grunted above me, the hand on my shoulder tightening, his fingers stroking up and down my neck, making me moan around his cock. 

I’d be feeling this for a while, but I couldn’t wait. This was going to be the hookup that kept on giving. With so many details to revisit, it’d keep me warm for a long, long time.

“Gonna,” Gray gritted out, trying to pull back, but I had other ideas. I hadn’t gone to all this trouble to end up having him come all over my face by accident, I’d earned having him come in my mouth, and he was going to. 

I gripped his cock firmly, tugging on the shaft and still staring up into his eyes, hollowing my cheeks to suck on the first two inches with all the pressure I could manage, a wave of pleasure rippling through me as I tasted a telltale rush of precome. My own cock twitched, balls aching, head pounding with need. 

I was so close, I just needed Gray to come, and I could feel that he was teetering on the edge. The tension in his body was ready to snap, all I needed to do was give it one last, hard tug. 

Gray jerked into my mouth as the dam finally burst, hitting the back of my throat again. 

The sound he made as he came was going to be seared into my mind forever, the perfect broken moan of a man who’d been pushed clear over the edge and was suddenly in free fall, coming with a forceful spurt right down my throat. I swallowed around him, sucking hard as I came over my own hand in response. Stars burst and bounced in front of my eyes with the force of my own orgasm, a flood of pleasure washing down my spine and spilling out of my cock as I jerked myself off, too wound up to wait any longer. 

A long, low moan rumbled through me as I finished, hissing at how sensitive my cock was by the time I was done coming my brains out. 

Still wearing my pants.

If it hadn’t been as hot as it was, it would have been embarrassing. 

Gray’s head thumped against the wall as he rode out the aftershocks, fingers stroking through my hair, his eyes glazed and unfocused. 

It might have been a while, but I was still good at this. I’d worked hard on getting good, and I loved to see a man like Gray come apart in my mouth. There was nothing hotter than getting someone off like that for me. 

Gray had been so nice about it, too. He was clearly a sweetheart on top of being impossibly hot, and I was glad it’d been him. I was glad he’d picked me, even if I didn’t quite understand why. 

“Damn.” He sighed, hand finally falling away from my head. “I’ll, uh. I’ll get you in a second.” 

“Too late,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his hip and then pulling his underwear back into position with my clean hand. 

The look he gave me almost made me want to go another round, but I’d set myself a one-and-done rule for tonight. I wasn’t about to break it because this guy was pretty. 

Lots of guys were pretty, and I couldn’t afford to risk getting attached to this one. To any of them. Not now, maybe not ever. 

“I need to clean up,” I said, hauling myself off the floor, grateful for the thick carpet in this room. My apartment didn’t have carpets, and I usually hated them, but I could see one or two benefits right now.

“Nice meeting you,” I added, hoping he’d leave while I was in the bathroom. 

“Sure you’re not up for another round?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked so damn hopeful that I almost said yes. 

But I couldn’t. Not least of all because I was planning on going back home after this, and I didn’t have a change of clothes with me for work tomorrow. 

Much as I got away with a lot for being the boss’ kid, I could not turn up in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I’d never hear the end of it. 

“Gotta be up early,” I lied. “Don’t take it as an insult? You were…” I paused, looking him up and down, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. “You were exactly what I needed. Thank you, sincerely.” 

“No insult taken,” Gray said softly, his gorgeous, warm voice soothing the growing worry that I’d hurt him. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get hurt doing this. 

That was the whole point of the hotel room and the hookup app and the not getting too close. No one got hurt this way. 

“But if you’re ever in town again…” he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and plucking a card from it, holding it out in offering. “Feel free to text me.” 

I took the card, knowing I had no intention of texting him, but happy to enjoy the fantasy that maybe I would, maybe this would be the start of something incredible.

Grayson Ward 
Personal Security Specialist 

I traced my thumb over the winged shield above the name, embossed into the cardboard. Cute. 

“Huh.” I said, tucking the card in my pocket with a tiny smile. “Personal security like…” 

“Like a bodyguard,” he responded with a broad grin. 

“Hot profession, right?” “Hot profession,” I agreed. “Good night, Grayson.” 

Gray chuckled, his eyes soft and warm and inviting. I wished, right then, that we’d met differently. That I could maybe consider having a little more time with him. 

But I knew better. 

“Night, Miles,” he said, darting in and kissing me on the cheek, then slipping away, heading for the door as he buttoned and zipped his jeans. “Nice to meet you, too.” 

I watched the door swing closed behind him, and sighed. 

That had been enough. It had to be enough. 

It was all I was allowed to have.



Gifted #2
Quinn 
Scented candles glowing on the nightstand, toys set out, lube warming beside my thigh. I was more than ready for a nice, relaxing evening after the day I’d had. No more manager. No more record company. 

No more worrying about looming deadlines. 

A thrill of anticipation curled in the pit of my stomach as I opened my laptop. Lower lip caught between my teeth, I clicked on a new tab—one to add to the other forty-seven—and found the bookmark I was looking for hidden in a folder labeled recipes. 

The stress melted away as I scrolled through my options. Acres and acres of perfect skin stretched out before me, all mine to choose from. 

An old favorite, watched so many times I could almost picture the whole thing from the thumbnail, crossed the screen.

Yeah, that was the one. 

Tonight wasn’t a night for something new. I needed comfort, and what was more comforting than watching a tall, dark, and handsome porn star fuck someone I over-identified with until he came screaming? 

A lot of things were more comforting than that, but I didn’t have any of them. So, porn it was. Again. 

Decision made, I hit play with a tiny, shy smile on my face. I loved the way this one started, like it was their first time, with soft assurances that it’d feel so good. 

I knew they were actors. I wasn’t stupid. But it was so easy to believe that these two people were having a good time together. 

It was easy to imagine this being me, with someone I liked, about to have the same incredible first time. Gentle and caring and super hot. 

I flicked the lube open, the familiar click sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. My cock was already starting to show an interest. The routine was so familiar my body knew exactly what to do every step of the way. 

Pouring a bead of lube out onto my fingers, I let my eyes fall closed for just a moment, Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s deep, warm voice washing over me. I loved his voice the most. I loved voices, period. 

I hummed as I warmed the lube between my fingers, rolling onto my side to touch each of the three toys I’d gotten out. I was leaning toward the big purple one, but the others had their appeal.

Fondling the flesh-colored one that was a tiny bit softer, I stroked my cock idly, humming as it hardened under my fingers. 

I needed this. 

My two beautiful boys were stripping off, and I took the opportunity to stretch out and relax, going back to the purple dildo. It was bigger, which was good and bad—good because bigger, but bad because it needed more prep. Was this a take it slow night? Or more of a get off and get to sleep one? 

The sudden sound of my phone vibrating made me jump. I grabbed it with a huff, fumbling as I picked it up. Who the hell was texting me this late at night? 

If this was Dwayne—or anyone else at Harmony Records—they were getting ignored until the morning. I’d had enough of everyone for the day, and all I wanted was to get off and go to sleep. 

“Hello?” a man’s voice spoke. 

From my phone speaker. 

Oh no. Oh no. 

It wasn’t a text. My lube-slicked thumb had slipped and answered the incoming call. 

What kind of barbarian called at nine o’clock at night? 

Why had he called while I was watching porn? I didn’t deserve this. I was a good person.

I had to pause this video before it started getting loud. I knew how it went, and I was already cutting it close. Desperate, I lunged for my laptop. I had to shut the sound off before I got busted. 

My heart shuddered to a near-stop as the phone slipped out of my lube-coated fingers and onto the mattress. 

Right next to my laptop speaker. 

The cute little twink on screen chose that moment to moan like—well, like he was about to take a cock as thick as his wrist. Because he was. 

I froze. A total stranger was being exposed to my taste in porn. 

Fuck. 

I forced myself to grab the phone with my clean hand and hit the mute button on my laptop, still speechless. All I could do was hold the phone to my burning cheek and wish for California to choose this moment to split from the mainland and sink into the Pacific. That way, I’d never have to say anything. 

“Have I called at a bad time?” the stranger asked after a pause, calm and polite. 

Also, British? And with a voice like warm caramel. 

Which wasn’t helping the situation where I was sitting naked on my bed, half-hard, three different dildos leaning against my leg, porn still playing silently on my laptop screen.

“Umm,” my voice cracked as I tried to respond. 

Jesus, what did he think of me? 

“I, uh. No?” 

I couldn’t say yes, could I? I’d answered the phone, for a start, and while he probably wasn’t positive I’d been watching porn yet, he’d figure it out if I tried to make an excuse. 

I didn’t trust myself not to blurt it right out if I made any attempt to explain myself. 

“Are you quite sure? I know it’s after hours.” 

Goddamn he had a gorgeous voice. 

My dick thought so, too, judging by the way it twitched. 

We’re not having phone sex, get a grip. 

Phone sex with a voice like this would have been the highlight of my life. 

“I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve, umm. I’ve just. Had a long day.” 

And I was setting up to jerk off didn’t seem like the kind of thing I should confess to a stranger. 

“I see,” he said, still elegantly unaffected. 

He knew. He knew and he was being British about it. This was what they were like, wasn’t it?

He could have walked in on me while I had half of someone’s arm up my ass and just apologized. 

At least, he sounded like he could have. 

Fuck. 

I didn’t deserve this. Not after the day I’d had. 

Shit. Was this a new guy from the record company? I’d thought they were done yelling at me. Maybe they were sending in the charming British man, knowing my brain would melt the moment I heard his voice and I’d do whatever he told me. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” I said, desperately hoping it wasn’t someone from Harmony Records. Maybe it’d be the gas company calling to tell me about a special offer. That was about the only option I could handle, and even then, I’d never be able to call them again. 

“Ah, forgive me for not providing it. You’re welcome to call me Fox.” 

Fox. 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

This was the private investigator. The one from Guardian Angels Security. 

The one Harmony Records had hired. And told me would be in touch later.

Great. I wasn’t sure if that was better, or worse. 

“Oh, uh. Right. Yeah, sorry, I was supposed to be expecting your call, wasn’t I?” 

“I was given your contact information,” Fox confirmed. 

Worse. Definitely worse. If only because my dick was still really interested in every word Fox had to say. 

Private investigators weren’t supposed to be hot. This guy was supposed to be making me feel like a criminal, not making blood rush south. 

“Mr. O’Rourke?” he asked when I was silent for a second too long. I was still trying to get my brain to cooperate with my mouth, despite the fact that my dick insisted on doing all the thinking right now. 

The cute boy getting his ass pounded on my laptop screen wasn’t helping. 

“Please call me Quinn,” I managed, frantically wiping my hand clean so I could reach out and hit pause on the video. I could not watch this while I was trying to have a sensible conversation. 

I had to make a good impression on Fox. He’d been hired by Harmony Records to look into an album leak, and I needed to cooperate with him if I planned on keeping my contract. 

“Quinn, then,” Fox responded. “I hear you’re in a spot of trouble and you could use someone with a keen eye.” 

“Something like that.”

I barely held in a sigh of relief as I hit pause and closed the lid, which I should have done in the first place. Why hadn’t I thought of that? 

It’d been a long day. That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. 

“I, uh…” I continued, realizing that wasn’t nearly enough information. “I have a problem.” 

“I’ll try my best to have a solution,” Fox responded, practically purring. “Take your time. Start from the beginning.” 

Keep him talking, my brain demanded. 

Stupid, horny brain. 

Get it together. 

Okay. Okay, I could handle this. 

“Well, I… umm, to start at the beginning, I’m a musician.” 

“I’ve heard something to that effect from your record company,” he said. 

Right. He knew exactly who I was, because they’d hired him. How stupid was I going to make myself sound today? 

“Forgive me for being unfamiliar with your work.”

I licked my lips. “Believe me, you’re not the only one.” 

That was one of many things I didn’t get about this. I was a nobody. My first album had crossed the sales threshold my contract stipulated by about ten copies. 

I’d been lucky that some TV show had licensed a song from the second one or I would have been kicked out on my ass. 

So why did Harmony care who’d leaked it? It wasn’t as though they’d lost millions. I wasn’t worth much to them. 

“Okay,” I continued. “I guess you know that my last album leaked a full week ahead of release. I don’t… I mean, it doesn’t matter to me, exactly, but the record company is breathing down my neck about it. It can’t happen again. They’ll shred my contract if it does.” 

That was good so far. I hadn’t managed to make things worse. 

No guarantees I wouldn’t yet, but my hopes were starting to lift. 

“So you’d like to know where the leak came from?” Fox asked. 

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “No offense, but I’m not sure why you’re being hired at all. I’m just… cooperating. Not that you don’t seem nice, but I don’t get what the point is.” 

“Right,” Fox said, sharper than before. 

“I’m sure you’re very good,” I said. “I’m just…”

I’m not very good. 

I couldn’t say that, could I? 

“I’m sorry,” I said for what felt like the tenth time during this conversation. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and I’m kind of overwhelmed. Which isn’t your problem. Sorry.” 

A soft sigh traveled down the line. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Quinn,” Fox said, his voice all kindness and warmth. “I’ll do my best not to make things any worse. Okay?” 

“Okay,” I said after a slightly-too-long pause. A breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding flowed out of me, my whole body relaxing. 

For the first time since I’d been threatened with losing my contract if I didn’t keep this album from getting out, I felt like maybe things were going to be okay. 

Fox was soothing. 

“So I guess that leaves us with getting you to LA. I can… did the company offer to send a car? Because I could, or…” 

“If it’s all the same,” Fox interrupted. “I’ll get myself down. Could use the trip for thinking time.” 

“Oh. Umm. Of course. Sor-” I cut myself off at the last second before getting the rest of the sorry out. I’d been apologizing a lot over the course of this conversation. 

“Good lad,” Fox murmured.

My cock twitched again. As much as I wanted to listen to Fox talk all night, I needed to get out of this phone call and jerk off. 

“I’ll text you an address?” I offered. “Recording starts again the day after tomorrow. I was sick last week. So anytime between now and then would be great. Oh and, uh. You won’t need a hotel, there’s… well, I think the guest room is nice, anyway.” 

Fox chuckled. 

The sound made me feel like my spine had turned to jello, but I didn’t want it to stop. 

“Sounds lovely,” Fox said. “Tomorrow afternoon, then? So I can leave after the morning rush.” 

“Sure. Great. Tomorrow afternoon.” 

“And Quinn?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

I stared at the phone in my hand for long moments after I hung up. 

Everything’s going to be all right. 

I’d needed someone to say that to me for a long, long time. The fact that it was coming from a man with a voice like black silk who could maybe do something about it made my stomach flutter.

Huh. Voice like black silk. That was pretty good, I needed to write that down somewhere. 

Saving Fox’s number in my phone, I collapsed back onto the bed with a thump, making the bottle of lube and dildos bounce on the mattress. 

Everything was going to be all right.



Glittered #3
Ashley 
“Get those tucks taped, ladies. Ten minutes and you’re going out there, dicks hanging out or not,” Amanda called from the dressing room door, the huge curls of her wig shaking with the force of the shout. The new red patent leather corset was a good look on her. Black was classic, but Amanda could pull off something a little flashier. 

“Which one of you assholes moved my left boob?” Ivy asked, tape in one hand and what I assumed was the right boob in the other. “Not one of you can keep your goddamn hands to yourself.” 

“If I take an eye out doing this because you bumped my chair, I’m replacing your lash glue with Elmer’s,” I said, shuffling closer to the table. Ivy in a mood was a force to be reckoned with. 

Something happened to people the moment they put their wigs on. Gabriel Diaz, geriatric nurse at the memorial hospital, was a sweetheart when he was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Ivy Drip was the human equivalent of a hurricane. 

I wasn’t immune, either. Ashley Cooper lived in oversized hoodies he’d stolen from boys he was too femme to be seen with on the street and hoped no one was going to say anything about his nail polish. 

Arizona Tease could kill a man with her winged eyeliner and they’d thank her for it. 

Ivy laughed, leaning over to grin at me in the mirror. “Troy loves my eyes, you can’t break his heart like that.” 

I snorted. “You never miss a chance to bring up being engaged, huh?” I asked, trying not to blink as I lined my upper waterline. 

“When did I mention engagement?” she asked, flashing her ring again. It was only a thin platinum band, since her alter-ego had to wear it at work, but she’d managed to perfect catching the light. “Don’t you get your little Victoria’s Secret panties in a knot over it. Just because I found a man who can’t get enough of me…” 

“Put your brows on and find your boob,” I shot back. “Or you’re going out there without it.” 

I shifted closer to the table, nudged something squishy with my stockinged toes, and winced. “Oh come on,” I said. “This is the last time I share a dressing room with you.” 

As though it wasn’t like this every month. Nothing ever changed.

If something had changed, I would’ve been worried. 

Ducking under the dressing table, I felt around on the floor until my fingers curled around the rogue boob. 

“Here,” I said, holding it out. Ivy snatched the breast enhancer out of my hand, dusting it off with her nose wrinkled. 

“Too much to ask for a little professionalism from you two?” Helena asked. “This is the last time I share with the children.” 

Helena—Martin—was a preschool teacher by day, and Helena Handbasket by night. Well. One night a month, like the rest of us. He was the newest to drag, but he’d gotten into the spirit of the thing without hesitation. I’d never seen anyone do their makeup so precisely with their fingers before or since. Helena claimed it was all that practice finger painting. 

But one time when we’d both been a few drinks deep, Martin had confided in me that he’d learned by using his ex-wife’s makeup before she got home and had no idea what he was doing. I’d fallen a little in love with him then. 

“You’re turning forty next week,” Ivy said. “So you’ll be dead by the next time you need a dressing room, right?” 

Helena rolled her eyes. 

“They pay us in tequila,” I said. “Professional doesn’t even live in the same state as what we’re doing.”

“They pay you in tequila,” Helena said. “They pay me in single malt.” 

“Gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “That’s for old men.” 

“Honey,” Helena said. “Underneath this half-pound of foundation and glitter, I am an old man.” 

My eyes were as lined as they were ever going to be, and I still needed to get my lashes on. 

I plucked my lash case from the back of the dressing table, popping it open to choose a pair. 

“You’re not that old,” I said. “At least, I hope you’re not. I hear life begins at forty.” 

Helena laughed. “Sure hope it does. Maybe I should try to find a man before I leave my thirties, though. Either of you girls got any nice friends?” 

“Arizona had a boy over on Thursday,” Ivy said. “What happened to him, anyway?” 

“You can have him,” I said, holding my first lash in place with a pair of tweezers. “Selfish little prick. I had to finish myself off after he was done and he looked at me like that was somehow my fault.” 

Helena snorted. “We have got to introduce you to a better class of man, sweetie.” 

A knock on the door stopped me from responding. 

“There are a dozen red, red roses here for a certain Miss Arizona Tease,” Amanda said, holding out a pretty gold box filled to bursting with perfect, deep red rose buds.

“Me?” I asked, staring at the crimson petals. My legs moved without any input from my brain, crossing to the dressing room door with only one eyelash glued in place, the other one forgotten on the table. 

Who the hell was sending me roses? There was no one in my life who’d… 

My stomach flipped as I read the card. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I can’t…” 

“Whoa.” Ivy grabbed me by the arm. “You just went white as a sheet,” she said, pulling a chair over and easing me onto it. 

The card was still clasped tight in my hand. Helena pried it out of my fingers while Ivy fussed around me, holding my wrist to take my pulse. 

“I’m gonna throw up,” I said, my voice distant even to my own ears, like someone else was speaking. 

I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Amanda put a wastepaper basket between my feet. Ivy curled a hand around my shoulder, dipping down to rub my back as I bent over, my stomach knotting up.

“Roses are red, violets are—oh, shit,” Helena read from the card. My stomach clenched, and for a moment I thought I really was going to throw up. The feeling passed after a moment, Ivy’s hand on my back rubbing soothing circles. 

Grounding me. 

Ivy was my best friend in and out of drag, and I was glad to have that support right now. I needed it. 

“Roses are red,” I remembered. “Violets are blue.” 

The thought of the second part made my throat tighten. 

“Once you’re out of that dress,” I forced out, jaw tensing. “I’ll be seeing you.” 

Fuck, it was almost romantic. Without context, it would have been. A little wink after it would have turned it into something sweet and teasing. 

Whoever had filled the order at the florist probably thought it was. 

But everyone in the room knew what this meant. They’d been through this with me before. 

“He’s back,” Amanda said. “Son of a bitch. Ashley, are you okay?” Amanda knelt down in front of me. She was impossibly patient when she needed to be. 

Right now, I needed her to be.

“I can’t go out there.” I bit my lip, glancing at Amanda. Cutting my part of the show wouldn’t be easy, and I knew people came out to see me perform. Crazy as that was. 

But I couldn’t do it. What if he was in the audience? 

What if he was watching? What if my stalker really did do something this time, after two months of silence? I’d thought he was gone. 

“I can’t go out there,” I repeated, pleading. The thought of it made my whole body tremble, worse than stage fright, worse than any nerves I’d ever felt. 

“Hey,” Ivy snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Breathe,” she said. “Don’t make me use my nurse voice on you.” 

I swallowed down a mouthful of air, my lungs burning now that I’d noticed I was panting for breath and couldn’t fill them. 

Panic attacks weren’t new to me, but I’d thought I was over the worst of it. I had been over the worst of it. I’d had six good years in San Francisco and now ten months of this. Of never feeling safe. Of worrying about which pair of eyes in the audience was looking at me and plotting to hurt me. 

“You need to go home,” Amanda said, putting a hand on my knee. “Gabe, can you take him?” 

I must have looked pale if Amanda was calling us by our real names while we still had the wigs on. That was the rule—wigs go on, you’re whoever you are on stage.

Except in emergencies, which this was. 

“I need a minute,” I gasped, throat still tight. “Can I just… I need a minute alone.” 

“Clear out,” Amanda said without a moment’s hesitation, ushering Ivy and Helena out of the room. 

Being alone was worse. As soon as the door closed behind them, I wanted my friends back. They were all I had, the only thing protecting me from the world, and I’d just shooed them out of the room. 

Tears welled up in my eyes. This was why I’d shooed them. I knew I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I wasn’t up to crying in front of people who’d supported me without flinching since all this started. 

I couldn’t put any more of this on them. Friends were there to lean on, but I’d done more than my fair share of leaning. 

I dug my phone out of my backpack, fingers trembling as I scrolled through my contacts and came to the one I wanted. 

As soon as the call connected, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

A glance in the mirror revealed panda eyes and pathetic streaks of not-waterproof eyeliner running down my cheeks. I grabbed a baby wipe, wanting all of it off my face before someone saw me like this. 

Gabe was getting married. Martin didn’t need to deal with me crying when he dealt with crying three-year-olds all day, even if he was good at it. They didn’t need my bullshit spilling over into their lives. Not again. Not after we’d thought it was all over.

“Ashley?” Grandma asked on the other end of the line. 

“It’s me,” I said, my voice too quiet. She’d know I was upset. Grandma was the only person who’d ever really understood me. 

“Oh, Ashley. What’s wrong?” 

I burst into tears trying to peel my fake lash off. As soon as they started coming, I couldn’t stop them. My head hit the table, sobs making my whole body shake as fear and helplessness overwhelmed me. They dragged me off to a dark place in my mind where I was alone and defenseless and there was an unseen something coming for me, which was exactly how I felt. 

“Let it all out,” Grandma said. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay.” 

She was also the only person who’d ever told me that. 

“He’s back,” I sobbed into the phone. “He’s back and I can’t… I don’t…” 

“Shh, honey. Just breathe. Can’t have you passing out on me,” she said. “Not when you’re so far away. Is there someone with you?” A pause. “You’re getting ready for your show, huh?” 

I sniffed, nodded, and then realized Grandma couldn’t see me. 

“Yeah.” 

My voice sounded cracked and broken even to me. There was no way I’d recover in time to get on stage.

Not that Amanda would have let me. 

“I can’t—” 

“I know, sweetie,” Grandma said. “No matter how much I was looking forward to watching it in the morning. I’ve got lots of others saved.” 

The club uploaded every show to YouTube. It was good for us—some of us had gotten modeling jobs and public appearances and things out of it. Gabe and I had been booked for a twenty-first birthday once and had the time of our lives. 

I loved doing this, and I hated that it’d drawn the attention of someone who wanted to ruin my life. For what? What had I done? 

I wasn’t an angel and I knew it, but I tried not to ever hurt anyone. Did I deserve this? 

“I think it’s time you considered my offer,” Grandma continued. “Please, honey. It’d make me feel better.” 

My stomach flipped at the thought, but I couldn’t keep relying on my friends. Grandma was right. I knew what I had to do. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, okay. I think… yeah.” 

“Good. I’ll call in the morning. Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight?” 

“Sure,” I lied.

Gabe was staying the night with Troy whether he liked it or not. I wasn’t putting him in harm’s way. He’d taken a risk staying my roommate through all this shit, but this… this was different. We’d moved past creepy and disturbing into what felt like a direct threat to me. 

I’ll be seeing you. 

I didn’t want Gabe in the middle of it if something happened. 

It was time they moved in together, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little shove in that direction. I knew he wanted to and that he was only staying for my sake, because there was no way I could make rent on a two-bed apartment by myself. 

“Good,” Grandma repeated. “I want you to call me once you’re home and text me before bed, okay? And then again when you wake up. I’m not taking any chances with you. If I don’t hear from you by nine a.m. tomorrow, you’ll get a wakeup call from the police.” 

She wasn’t kidding, and I knew it. 

“I’ll call when I get home and text you both times,” I promised. “Thanks, Grandma.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for protecting you, honey. That’s what grandmas are for.” 

I jumped at a knock on the door. 

“I gotta go,” I said, spotting Ivy’s left boob still sitting on the dressing table. “Love you.” 

“Love you too, sweetie. Home safe.”

Home safe. 

I wished it was.

Author Bio:
Sean Ashcroft likes rainy days, white hot chocolates (don't knock it 'til you've tried it!) and boys kissing in books. He currently resides in Australia, all the way down at the bottom of the mainland in a sleepy little seaside town.

He writes sweet, hot books about sweet, hot boys who absolutely deserve each other.


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Guarded #1

Gifted #2

Glittered #3

Series