GENRE: Gay Spicy Romance Anthology
LENGTH: 210 pages
RATING:

The temperature isn't the only thing HOT in these short stories by multi-published M/M author J.D. Walker! Collected together in this box set are 5 hot and heavy summer tales sure to set your pulse racing! Contains the stories:

Drowning in Neptune's Pool: Jimmy Fassett really likes his new friend, fiddle player Landry Flannery. They jam together in the evenings -- banjo and fiddle -- and it’s just perfect. But while Jimmy wants to take things a little deeper, Landry keeps putting obstacles between them. The two men argue, and Jimmy refuses anymore contact, until Landry forces the issue. Could things work out between the two men, after all?

Hot Dogs and Kisses: Darwin “Dare” Mancuso is a workaholic. He has high standards for both his business and his love life, and isn’t about to fall into bed with just anyone. When he meets Abel Messler, Dare is drawn in by his innocence. And when Abel loses his job, Dare does what he can to help Abel feel better. Which is why both men end up on a dance floor that night, and end up with more than they bargained for.

More Than a Suit: Ross: Ross Haven shares the news about his internship with EnerGen International, as well as the fact he’s gay with his family. Unfortunately, Ross is thrown out of the house and has to find a place to live, while somehow protecting his brother Rhys from their alcoholic father. Then, Ross meets Lee Pearce. He doesn’t know the first thing about love, but he’s willing to learn, if he can have Lee.

Sweat: Rico Davin can’t help but watch the trails of moisture on his best friend, Chance Raynor’s chest while he plays volleyball on the beach. Rico’s been in lust with Chance since they met freshman year in college, but knows he doesn’t have a prayer with such a fine specimen. But after Rico gets into an accident, feelings are revealed and both men find out whether getting sweaty makes it all better.

Wading in Neptune's Pool: Pete Crawford has a new pool client -- Corey Brennerman. A workaholic, Corey is anti-social at first, but a joint effort to catch a cell phone thief helps form a tentative friendship. A Fourth of July tryst adds something more, and when his father dies, Corey is forced to look at his life and make some changes -- for the better. Together, they build something that could last ... forever, maybe.

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

“How long was I out?” I asked, rubbing my face and wishing I had something to drink.

“Half an hour, maybe more. They said you have a mild concussion, and I need to keep an eye on you for the a few hours.”

I sighed. “Where’s my backpack? I need to check to see if my laptop survived. And I want to find my bike, too.”

“Everything’s in my jeep, Rico, including your mangled, useless bicycle. Stop worrying and let yourself relax for a change, would you?” Chance groused, and raised a hesitant hand to brush my hair to the side. “You must have hit something when you flipped over that car, ‘cause you have a nice-sized bruise on your forehead. Still cute, though.”

I thought I was hearing things, so I didn’t respond to that statement. “Can we go home? I need to lie down, and I’m thirsty.”

“Sure.” The paramedics came over and made one last check of my vitals, gave Chance some instructions, then let him drive me home.

I wasn’t interested in food, but I needed to eat something before taking the pain pills. After that, Chance settled me on the couch with a blanket and turned the TV on low so we could watch something, but I fell asleep seconds later.

Chance woke me up when the sun set. “How are you feeling?” he asked. He was sitting in front of me on the low table by the couch.

I moved my head a little. It didn’t throb as much and I wasn’t as exhausted as before. “Better. Sore, though,” I rasped, reaching for the water bottle he’d placed on the floor near my head. Thank you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” he said, and I was surprised at the slight tremor to his voice.

“I’m okay, Chance. Just some asshole driver not paying attention.” I reached out a hand to touch his leg briefly. “Stop worrying.”

“Well, if you had just admitted your feelings in the first place, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Did he just ... “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Maybe,” he replied, though he wouldn’t look at me.

“How is it fair that you’re bringing this up when I’m recovering from an accident?”

“It’s the only way I know to get your undivided attention,” he retorted, scowling at the floor.

Maybe it was the painkillers or the state of my head, but I murmured, “You’ve always had it.”

His eyes snapped up to me. “Are you kidding me? You’re admitting to that now, when I can’t take you to bed and fuck you the way I’ve been wanting to since the day we met?”

Some devil made me say, “It’s not like that’s stopped you from fucking everything else within a two-hour radius of here.” Chance’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I was in trouble.

“Please. You’ve known how you felt for three damn years and never said a word. How does that make me the bad guy?” Okay, point, but did he have to say it like that?

“Why would I think you’d even want to be with me at all? I’m nothing like the guys you fuck. They’re all beautiful and fit and have something to offer. No broken backgrounds, no need to pretend to the world that everything’s okay when inside, I always feel like a leper, like I don’t belong and should be ostracized. You have it so easy. You don’t even get it, do you?”

I turned over carefully and pulled the blanket over my head. “Go away. I’m tired.”

“We’re not done,” he growled.