GENRE: Gay Paranormal Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 9,853 words
RATING:

How would you react if you woke up one morning to find you were in bed with your favorite rock star? More to the point: how would the rock star react?

Animal rescue worker Sam is content to dream of rock sensation Cain Shepney. Trouble is, his meddling mother Lillith thinks he deserves to have all his dreams come true -- and she isn’t above performing a little magic to achieve her ends! Sam’s shocked to wake up one morning to find himself actually in bed with his celebrity crush -- but that’s nothing to how Cain feels about it! Suddenly Sam’s got to deal with an irate, naked, and very distracting rock star in his bed.

Cain has it all -- he’s good-looking, famous, and adored by millions. But his life takes a turn for the surreal when he wakes up in bed with Sam. Expecting everyone to be worried sick by his disappearance, Cain’s horrified to find his manager -- and even his mum -- insisting he’s an imposter, and the real Cain Shepney is right where he belongs.

Sam just wants to help, but with Cain convinced he’s a crazed, celebrity-kidnapping stalker, Sam’s got his work cut out for him. Can he get the object of his affections to trust him long enough to find out just what the hell’s going on?

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

I swung my legs off the bed, glad I'd slept in my boxers. “Um. Would you like some breakfast while you wait?”

Cain glared at me. “You think I'm eating or drinking anything you give me? I should have you arrested. Bloody date-rapist!”

We both jumped when the phone rang. Cain snatched it up. “Hello?” His face drained of colour, completing the Goth look. “What? What the hell do you --? No, of course it's not a bloody hoax! Well, did she check? Neil? Neil?” Cain stared at the phone for a moment, then put it down without looking. It missed the bedside table and hit the carpet with a dull thud.

“Look, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, here,” I said cautiously, “but -- car not coming, after all?”

Cain looked at me, his eyes deep pits of despair, blacker than the kohl that surrounded them. “He said he'd rung my mum, and she'd told him the real Cain Shepney was snoring in his bed over at hers, just like he was supposed to be.”

I gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Mothers, eh? Look, you've got this all wrong, you know. I haven't got a clue how you ended up here, either. And, you know, I don't think anything actually happened last night.” At least, I bloody well hoped it hadn't. I'd be gutted if I'd shagged Cain Shepney and then forgotten all about it. And I'd seen enough to be damn sure I'd have remembered it if he'd shagged me.

I stood up and stretched. Cain stepped back and pulled the duvet more tightly around himself. Possibly because, standing up, I was taller than him by around a foot. Or, you know, it could have been the raging stiffy that was doing its best to poke through my boxers in a way that could, in the circs, conceivably be viewed as threatening. “Er, sorry about that,” I said, looking down. “It'll go away in a mo. I just need to think about my mother for a bit.”

“You sick bastard,” he muttered.

“Hey, not fair! Sick would be thinking about my mother to get a stiffy --” Oh, fuck. Thinking of Lilith had made me remember that bloody doll.