The Romance Reviews

Thursday, June 3, 2021

The man’s jeans rode low and Blake followed the V of his slim hips into the frayed top with greedy eyes. #gayromance #gayerotic #MMromance from author E. D. Parr @parr_books for a #pridemonth #FirstChapterFriday


First Chapter Friday from 

The Thief of Hearts, gay romantic erotica

Thirty year old, lawyer, Blake Aster gazes from his high-rise office window wondering if this summer he’ll find love, but deep inside he doubts anyone will ever want him again. He can’t forget the scar he has running the length of his handsome face.

Hunky, daring, Alex Ryan is cleaning the building windows. Struck by the mythical beauty in the Blake’s looks, fun-loving Alex sets out to get Blake’s attention. Maybe a striptease outside Blake’s eighth floor window will do the trick. 

Chapter One


“Blake, Blake, can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes … sirens. I can hear sirens.”


“Mr. Aster, welcome back.”

Blake opened his eyes. His head hurt. His face hurt. He raised his hand to touch where the pain was. His fingertips met some kind of covering.

“Do you remember what happened?” The doctor leaned forward. “I’m going to shine a light into your eyes. Don’t worry the glare will fade. Follow the light with each eye in turn.”

Blake winced at the brightness of the penlight as the doctor looked into first one and then the other eye.

He drew away. “Tell me what you remember.”

With a rush, the memories of the attack overwhelmed him. He stared at the doctor. “How bad is the cut to my face?”

“There are a number of stitches, but you’ll heal. I can recommend a good plastic surgeon when you’re ready. You’ll be here a couple of days. You’re not concussed, but we’d like to keep an eye on the wound. There’s a detective waiting to interview you. Do you feel up to it?”

Still shaky, and with the words ‘plastic surgeon’ giving him a surge of anxiety, Blake tried to reach the water on his bedside table.

The doctor poured for him and handed him the glass. “Take it easy.”

Blake sipped. “I’ll talk to the detective.”


Eight months later


“Can I get you anything, Blake? I’m going down to the bakery on the corner.” Kathy, his assistant, hovered by the wide oak desk with her glasses as usual sliding halfway down her nose. She pushed them up in a gesture Blake recognized as habit.

He smiled gently as he answered having become fond of the older woman who often treated him like a son. “I have a lunch meeting, so better not indulge in pastries today. Thanks for asking.”

“Is it in the diary? I don’t remember a meeting.” A concerned frown deepened the wrinkle between her brows.

“It’s not business, well not a case that will earn us money. I’m going to do some pro bono work. You’d be surprised how many people desperately need help.”

Kathy’s expression of concern deepened to horror. “Blake, the last time…”

He cut her off. “The last time isn’t likely to happen again. I’ll take care. I appreciate you worrying about me.” Blake gave her an especially affection laden smile.

Her shoulders drooped. “Okay.” She practically backed away and then went through the door with a grunt as if it had suddenly become too heavy for her to pull open.

Blake gazed at the closed door considering Kathy’s reaction. Hell, I can’t not do the work I want to, just in case anything unpleasant happens. I’m not even going to think about it.

He checked his coffee. Cool enough to drink. Kathy made the hottest coffee ever. It escaped Blake how she did it. He picked up his favorite stoneware mug and wandered to stare out at the day through the enormous plate glass windows of his eighth-floor office.

He cradled the mug in both hands. A weak sun filtered through dove-gray clouds. Blake longed for summer. Spring was cool and rainy this year. It echoed his forlorn mood most of the time. Summer meant he walked to work and sauntered home in the light evening, stopping to eat at one of the cafés, bistros, or restaurants along the way. Summer meant he might meet a guy in one of those places, if he was lucky. Blake sighed and drank some coffee. It was about time he met a guy and yet he lacked the confidence that anyone would ever want him again. I don’t have the heart to go to bars anymore, and I might run into John.

Lost in reverie, and shielded by the noise reducing double-glazing of the building, he didn’t hear the approach of the suspended scaffold containing the window cleaner. The cradle appeared before him on the other side of the glass and a gorgeous guy stared right at Blake.

Blake’s heart pounded. He had no idea why, except that the young man’s eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen, and the smile that slowly spread over the window cleaner’s face contained undisguised appraisal.

Blake took a step back from the window. He’d moved too quickly and some coffee lurched out of his mug. He shifted sideways to avoid it splashing his pristine white shirt. With a murmur of annoyance, he glanced at the young man on the scaffold.

The blue eyes held mirth, twinkling at him from the deliciously handsome face. The smile became a moue, and the window cleaner gave Blake a hands-out shrug.

Blake read the whole gesture as sympathy, but far from it helping him, he felt like a fool doing a dance of surprise and desperation. He looked down at the dark wave shape on the carpet made by the coffee and sighed. Am I so lonely that the sight of a handsome man turns me into an idiot? Yeah…

In an effort to gain control, Blake dared to lift his gaze to the man outside. He’d expected water to smear the glass, but the guy hadn’t made any effort to clean the window so Blake had a clear view of the striptease the window cleaner engaged in. He lifted the t-shirt he wore at the hem and in a tantalizing move slid it up his torso.

Blake’s mouth watered at the sight of the smooth, muscular chest on display. The man’s jeans rode low and Blake followed the V of his slim hips into the frayed top with greedy eyes. Blake caught his breath at the bulge in the front of the blue pants as the man thrust his hips a little taking the t-shirt over his head before he dropped it beside him onto the cradle floor.

Blake stared in open appreciation of the broad shoulders and muscled arms before him. A sigh escaped him. This man gave him butterflies. Blake’s cock stirred as the guy leaned close to the glass and blew him a kiss. A smile spread over Blake’s face as happiness took him over. He didn’t even care if the guy was mocking him. He allowed himself to enjoy the show.

The window cleaner’s movements as he cleaned displayed his delectable body. The bulge in his jeans grew as he worked.

Blake soaked up the sight. Hell, he’s hung like a horse, and now—now I reckon the way I’m ogling him is turning him on. Blake couldn’t stop the shimmer of joy that crept over him as he considered this. Maybe I’m not so ugly after all. Then Blake’s lack of confidence kicked in and he sagged. The guy must be used to adoring gazes. He probably does this stuff for the girls downstairs in the magazine design office. I bet he takes his shirt off and unbuttons his pants. I bet he flashes the top of his black CK’s at the accountant on the next floor.

He turned away from the window, carefully held his coffee mug, and went back to his desk. Blake used a laptop most of the time, but on the side of his desk, a flat screen monitor stood wired into the network. He pulled the monitor along and slid the keyboard across his desk.

Blake hid behind the flat screen to write up some case notes for the rest of the morning. He resisted the tug of desire to check on the window cleaner. Several times he had to force himself to concentrate. The sight of the hot guy outside his window unsettled Blake. He’d forced away acknowledging his acute loneliness and desperate need to feel a man’s hard body against his own, but now both overwhelmed him.

He read the sentence he’d just keyed into the document. A ridiculous typo halfway through brought a curse from Blake. He fixed it, saved the document, and stood. I’d better get going to that appointment. He flicked his eyes to the time on the computer toolbar. Good thing I suggested the restaurant. I’m short of time. Blake figured the social worker didn’t get many invitations to lunch at the French place he’d chosen. Her eyes had lit up when he’d told her it was his treat. She knew he was gay so there was no mistake. Even though she’d told him to forget the scar on his face, that he was still an attractive man, it was the food she fancied and not him.

Copyright E. D. Parr, Evernight Publishing.

BUY the BOOK N.B This book contains explicit gay love scenes

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