Thursday 28 February 2013

Hadn’t the Pleasure # 41

The books that have been collecting dust for so long they have become stained from it


Charles Larkin is finally happy with his life…for the most part. He’s happy with his new summer getaway—a rustic cottage he just bought on a small Wisconsin lake. He’s happy that his ex-wife, whom he divorced because he couldn’t play straight anymore, has become one of his best friends. He’s happy he can breathe again.

It’s only Kenneth, Charlie’s boyfriend of five months, who makes this new life less than completely satisfying. Charlie feels they’ve never been quite right for each other, and Kenneth cements that conviction when he makes a disturbing confession. Charlie knows their time together is quickly coming to an end. Problem is, Kenneth doesn’t know it. And he tends to be rather possessive.

Planning to spend a quiet, relaxing two or three weeks at Cloud Lake—fixing up his place, reading, even attempting to overcome his fear of water—Charlie is less than thrilled to discover his next-door neighbor is one hell of a looker. He doesn’t need that kind of distraction, especially since his issues with Kenneth haven’t yet been resolved. But there’s a ninety percent chance the neighbor is straight, has a wife or girlfriend, and could be leaving the next day. Charlie clings to those probabilities.

Only, Booker isn’t going anywhere, and he isn’t that easily ignored. And neither is his unexpected, none-too-savory baggage. And neither, for that matter, is Charlie's. But when two people care enough about each other, they figure out how to help carry each other's baggage…or cast it aside.

This novella explores good and bad relationships. It just happens to feature men who enjoy having sex with each other

Bastards and Pretty Boys by KZ Snow
First published 4 September 2009 by Liquid Silver Press
iBook, 121 pages
Contemporary Erotic Romance

One soiled, wet sock, frosted with duck squirt. Charred wood. A reeking heap of weeds that served as a bier for two dead fish. More crud, and still more.
  I felt like a crime scene investigator.
  “Cabo San Lucas it ain’t.” Kenneth, who’d shuffled through the sand with me, scanned the beach with a disapproving squint.

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