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.”

Darkness—

“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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It's #FirstChapterFriday on the #MMromance blog with chapter one from new release #gayromance Night Song @evernightpub @parr_books

 

First Chapter Friday

from new release

Night Song

Chapter One

 

Oliver Honeycutt ran along the corridor, his piece of toast gripped between his teeth, reading glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. He’d received a request from the shop floor to find a pair of bronze designer jeans for a prized customer. The call had come just as he’d taken a seat at the lunch table with slices of toast on which he’d intended heaping chocolate spread, but Oliver gladly gave that up to take the stockroom task. He’d stuffed dry toast in his mouth and taken off.

Just the name Zane Highwood gave Oliver a rapid heartbeat. No matter what Zane requested, Oliver would be the first to leap into action. These days the other stockroom assistant didn’t raise his face from his smartphone or put down a coffee cup. Oliver and Eddie had somehow reached an unspoken agreement that Oliver took any job concerning Zane Highwood.

The fashion store sold big name brands of what the owner, Anton, smilingly called rock star garb as well as his own designs. Only six people had face-to-face contact with customers. Specially skilled and drilled in serving the discerning clientele, these six never ventured into the stockroom to find an item. They called Oliver or Eddie on the internal phone. Once the item was located, either assistant placed it in a tiny service elevator and sent it to the sales floor.

Oliver had never spoken to Zane, but he put his heart and soul into fulfilling Zane’s requests. Oliver never attended Zane Highwood’s gigs, held in clubs where he knew he’d feel out of place. He couldn’t let himself become creepy, but a smile would spread on his lips when Zane appeared in the press wearing the clothes he’d provided from the stockroom. Oliver took care not to let his admiration for the dark-haired, slim-hipped singer become an obsession. Even though Oliver was only twenty-five, he’d long ago given up hoping for a man who would love him, especially one as handsome as Zane. Instead, he looked on Zane as beautiful, a dream to hold dear as the kind of man he’d love in his life, but not to hopelessly covet.

Oliver pulled the requested garment from a stack. The bronze jeans would look good with a particular belt, and Oliver added that to the tray in the mini elevator. He pressed the button and it descended.

Eddie glanced over at Oliver from his perch on a stepladder, having taken the subsequent request for a garment from a sales colleague. “Why’d you bother?”

Not understanding, Oliver gave Eddie a puzzled look.

Clearly, his colleague understood the implied question in Oliver’s expression. “With the extra stuff—a belt, a t-shirt, a scarf. I mean, you don’t know if the customer even sees whatever it is. No one downstairs ever comes up and says, hey Ollie, great job.”

Oliver shrugged. “I enjoy doing it. I’d like to dress the windows or the store models—put things together. Maybe even become a personal stylist.”

Eddie pushed the flat box he’d looked in back on the stack, then turned to Oliver. “Yeah, looks as if you have a flare for it. You should ask Anton.”

Oliver sighed. “He’d say no. The artistic team does it.”

Eddie shrugged. “Up to you.”

Darkness had fallen before Oliver left the store that day through the side door onto a covered alleyway squeezed in between two tall buildings. Tuesdays and Sundays were the only evenings the store didn’t open until eight thirty to accommodate the huge variety of clients and entertainment customers. Oliver adjusted his collar to keep out the December wind. He glanced up at the night sky as he met Main Street and lost the shelter of the arched roof afforded by the alley. A flurry of sleet scattered huge dark splashes onto his overcoat. Soggy ice lodged in his hair and wet his face. Oliver licked it from his top lip. Hunching his shoulders, he strode to the station.

As it was Tuesday, Oliver could catch the early express to his small house. He hurried along. The traffic swished on the road that was fast turning slippery under the coating of slush. Streetlights, their poles wound around with bright lights to ward off the winter gloom, threw glitter onto the puddles. Shops lit the sidewalk, their seasonal displays twinkling as he passed.

Oliver dashed through the crowds. A man carrying an enormous cardboard box charged right at Oliver. The man could barely see around the box. Oliver sidestepped the collision with a grin. Somebody will bump into him for sure. His avoidance brought Oliver into the gutter, and a passing cab honked. Oliver rolled his eyes and jumped onto the curb, where he slid along for a few seconds. The cab’s proximity threw slush into Oliver’s shoes and wet his socks, but not much could diminish his happy mood. He smiled as he entered the station and swiped his travel card through the machine at the turnstile. Tonight his brother was Skyping him from across the world.

To say Oliver missed his older brother, Eric, was an understatement. When Eric’s journalist career took him to Indonesia and then Australia, Oliver was bereft. When Eric married an Aussie girl and made Melbourne his home, Oliver grieved for a year. He simultaneously wished them every happiness and wished Eric had never become a journalist. Even after three years, tears welled up in Oliver’s eyes when he recalled their childhood and teenage years spent together.

He tried not to let memories creep into his mind. His loneliness and regret at losing Eric didn’t sit well in his mind. He saw the feelings as inappropriate and maybe indicative of resentment, although Oliver didn’t envy Eric. He loved him. Oliver had never been able to fill the hole that opened up when Eric left his life. Eric was the only person in the whole world who knew Oliver was gay.

Their mom had left her house in a suburban neighborhood where the boys had grown up, for a visit to Eric, his wife, and their new baby a couple of weeks ago. Australia was far away, and the journey took a long time, so she would be staying with them for ten weeks. When Oliver had last visited her, he sent presents for the baby, genuinely enchanted when Eric had displayed his daughter wrapped tight in a blanket the last time he and Oliver Skyped.

He pushed his hands into his overcoat pockets as he strode along the outer city street in the cold night. He unlocked his front door, flipped on the hall lights, and, after levering off his wet shoes and discarding his overcoat, Oliver dashed to his study and booted his laptop. He went to the kitchen and hurriedly made a cup of instant coffee, which he took to his study and placed on his desk. Dinner could wait until he’d talked with Eric.

Copyright E. D. Parr December 8, 2020 Evernight Publishing

Night Song

Twenty-five year old Oliver Honeycutt has no idea how handsome he is. He’s creative, brilliant at his job, and underused in the designer fashion store where he works. Behind the scenes, Oliver takes special care with orders for customer, rock star, Zane Highwood. When Zane is to be the main attraction in the store’s Christmas party, fashion show, Oliver hopes Zane will notice him.

Multi-millionaire, twenty-five year old, Noah Somersby, made his first million before he was twenty-one and now owns a number of casual-chic menswear stores. He’s a designer, gorgeous, and desperate to find a man who will love him for himself and not see dollar signs as they kiss.

Noah doesn’t often take the train into the city, but one rainy day he does, as he settles into a seat opposite Oliver, the two men exchange interested glances.

In fact, Noah is super attracted to Oliver and Oliver thinks Noah is gorgeous.

As the store holiday season party approaches, can serendipity bring them together?

Evernight Publishing  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/night-song-by-e-d-parr/

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For #FirstChapterFriday who's ready to be showered with love ? #gayromance #MMromance #LGBT @parr_books @evernightpub

From, Shower You With Love

Chapter One

Chris hummed the catchy melody of a song he’d heard in the store where minutes ago he’d bought some groceries on his way home from work. He’d chosen his boyfriend’s favorite wine to drink with dinner in an effort to apologize for being late again. His meeting dragged on way past the expected time of conclusion, despite his efforts to curtail it. Surprised there were no lights on in the little brownstone he shared with his lover, Chris fished in his overcoat pocket for his house key. He juggled the paper sack of pasta, tomatoes, and wine as he fumbled the key in the lock. The half-stick of French bread somehow leaped from the bag and landed at his feet.

Chris succeeded in opening the door and flipped on the hall lights in a move that had his key falling to the tiled floor. He called out. “Andrew? Hey, are you home?” He strode to the kitchen and placed the paper sack on the table, then went back to pick up his house key and the bread stick. There’d been no answer from Andrew and he closed the front door. An unfamiliar emotion gripped him and his heartbeat sped up. Is Andrew sick? Chris took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom they shared. “Andrew?” He knew in his heart his lover wasn’t there. He switched on the pendant instead of the bedside lamp wanting to flood light on what was happening.

A note lay on the bed.

Sorry Chris. You must know we’re over. I’ve changed my phone number to avoid any uncomfortable conversations. Andrew

Chris read the note twice before he checked the closet. Andrew’s clothes and shoes were gone. Chris clicked off the light and, note in hand, went down to the kitchen. Andrew had never brought many belongings into the place other than clothes, shoes, and a handful of DVDs, but he had bought them both a coffee mug that proclaimed their love. Chris saw them, rinsed and upside down on the sink drainer. The sight brought tears to his eyes. Chris went to the fridge and took out a beer. He slumped on a kitchen chair, still wearing his overcoat, and heaved a sigh.

He turned over every loving moment they’d shared over the last six months until his head hurt. He looked among his memories for signs he could have missed that Andrew was so unhappy he’d just leave. He found nothing. I wish I’d paid more attention, but I thought I’d shown my affection, care… After an hour staring into space, he finally drank some of the beer, placed the bottle on the table, stood, and went to the hall, where he hung his overcoat on the hallstand.

Chris wandered back to the kitchen and made a cold chicken sandwich, only half of which he ate. He gazed around. The place felt very empty. There was work he could do, but he’d left important notes at his office, meaning to give Andrew his full attention that night. He went into the living room and put the TV on. Nothing captured his attention as he flipped through the channels hoping to fill the hollow that ached in his chest.

Sleep evaded him that night and he dragged into work the next morning feeling wrung out. He met his best and oldest friend, Phil, that night for a meal and ended up staying with him for the remainder of the week in the penthouse Phil rented with his girlfriend in the city. Phil and Kathy let him drone on about Andrew until something startling happened. Chris discovered he’d not been in love. True, he’d enjoyed being with Andrew, cared for him, but although he’d not expected Andrew to suddenly up and leave, he’d not expected them to last forever. In fact, he’d not given any thought to their future. He asked Phil as guilt flooded him, “Is that awful—am I a horrible person?”

Phil had glanced at Kathy, taken her hand as she sat beside him on the couch, and slowly shook his head. “If something is going to be forever, you know. It’s there practically right away.”

Two weeks later, Chris moved out of the brownstone into an apartment closer to his office. He’d always worked hard, now he worked harder.

Copyright E. D. Parr, Evernight Publishing, 2020

Chris Everhart attends his best friend’s weeklong wedding festivities. He meets handsome, enigmatic, Owen, and in a haze of attraction ignores the strangeness surrounding Owen. Convinced he’s falling in love, Chris spends every moment he can with Owen, until on the final day of his best friend’s celebrations he discovers a heartbreaking and shocking truth. He and Owen can never be together.

Traumatized, lonely, Chris can’t settle into another relationship, and then, after two years of wishing he could feel the way he felt for Owen with another man, fate intervenes. He meets gorgeous, gentle Matthew.

Spooked, Chris is about to run from Matthew who reminds him so much of Owen, but Matthew asks Chris to dance with him.

In Matthew’s arms, Chris can’t ignore the feeling of belonging that rushes over him.

Will he take the risk to love again, or continue to yearn for a ghost?

BUY the book 

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Valentine sets out to charm and capture Dale in his sparkling aura. #FirstChapterFriday #gayromance #MMromance #modern #scifi

Fashion photographer Dale Walker takes a train to his hometown, relocating there after nursing a broken heart for six months in another city. His train makes an unscheduled stop to take on a mysterious passenger.

For a long time, Valentine Steel has hoped to meet a man who will love him. When he sees Dale on the train, he’s overjoyed to find a vacant seat beside Dale.

Dale’s immediate attraction to Valentine has him on edge. He doesn’t want another broken heart, and yet Valentine is so magnetic Dale’s frozen heart begins to thaw.

Valentine sets out to charm and capture Dale in his sparkling aura. He can’t let the chance to have Dale’s love slip away. 
Be aware MM sex, explicit love scenes, a love story with HEA

Chapter One (18+ language)

“Sorry, I, er, I never meant you to find out like this, Dale.” Jack’s voice held only the tiniest note of contrition. He threw the quilt over the naked guy who sat with his cock erect and a glimmer of a smirk on his face in their bed—the bed Dale chose for Jack and himself nearly two years before—the bed Jack had sworn was his favorite place on earth as long as Dale was naked in it.

“Why, Jack? I thought we had something special.”

Jack shrugged, and the tip of his dick bobbed on his stomach as he took a step toward Dale.

“Look, I just got bored…”

The guy in their bed knelt and sheathed his cock in one hand. He slid his fist up and down the hard column. “Hey, babe, don’t keep this hard-on waiting.”

Dale turned away. “Babe?” He shot Jack a look full of pain. “I’ll come back for my stuff next week—Wednesday. Don’t be here. I’ll put the keys on the hall table when I leave then.” He strode out of the bedroom to the front door of the apartment.

Jack followed him halfway. “I’ll keep in touch. We can still be friends.”

Dale spun around. Sadness and fury mingled. “Don’t fuckin’ bother. I’ve been gone four weeks, four fuckin’ weeks, and you couldn’t wait for me…” Tears burned behind his eyes. Disappointment made his voice tremble. He raced out of the door and took the elevator to the street entrance of the building as nausea rose in him and his throat constricted with sorrow. He stood on the sidewalk with his cases of camera equipment and duffle bag. It was hard to breathe. He looked around. A cab cruised along behind a couple of cars. Dale flagged it down with a shaking hand. He gave the address of a hotel he’d once stayed in a couple of blocks away. He bundled his luggage into the cab. His chest felt raw as if he’d been running a long way.

The strange feeling only dissipated when he sat on the small couch in the hotel suite he’d taken and sobbed.

Copyright E. D. Parr , Evernight Publishing

Erotic gay romance, modern scifi, HEA

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/falling-star-valentine-by-e-d-parr/

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From the author:

The story ‘Falling Star Valentine’ was inspired by shooting stars. We all know shooting stars are falling meteorites, but the romance remains when one streaks across the midnight blue sky, and when two, in close succession, zoom over the night vista as you stand on your hotel balcony, it’s a sight to behold. I travel a little with my day job and in the autumn of 2016, I had to travel a lot more than usual. One night when I couldn’t sleep because I was churning worries around, I went out onto the balcony of the hotel room I was staying in and stared up at the sky. The night sparkled cold and the sky displayed an array of stars suddenly seeming only meters away a shooting star flew across my line of vision, then another as if it followed the first.

I’m a die-hard romantic and immediately my sweet but sexy character, Valentine Steel, had formed in my head. He’s Falling Star Valentine on his way to visit earth. Will he find love?

Find E.D.Parr

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MM romance for #FirstChapterFriday , Snowflake Wine, Who is Jamie Snow?

First Chapter Friday

18+ Erotic gay romance 

Hunky Nathan Bloom works late for the company putting up the town Christmas lights and decorations.

Gorgeous, enigmatic, Jamie Snow works late forecasting the weather from his desk in the meteorology office.

Nathan sighs over the prospect of a holiday season with no one to love.

Jamie wonders if he’ll ever find a man to love who will accept his mysterious origins and talents.

One cold night, as Nathan finishes hoisting the wreath lights up the building where Jamie works, they meet.

The brilliant festive lights aren’t the only things to sparkle as the two men connect on a deep level.

Be delighted by a delicious, contemporary, gay romance with an edge of fantasy this season. Sometimes being different is awesome.

Chapter One

“Come away from the window, Jack.”

Five-year-old Jack ignored his mother. He loved the way his breath and fingertips made ice patterns. He gazed down at the busy street below and blew on the glass again. Swirls of frost flower tendrils leaped there and outside a thin white covering grew along the sidewalk.

****

Time and distance became Jack’s friend as he stopped loving his strange ability and learned to hide it. His frost duties reduced to a minimum as the miles between him and his people lengthened, and he changed his name. It still maintained the coolness of his inherited family name but the occasional teasing from his peers just about disappeared. Jamie Snow became a meteorologist. The profession suited him.

On some winter mornings, when he’d indulged in his fairy legacy during the night, he experienced a longing to be able to tell someone he was responsible for the glittering hoarfrost and sparkling icicles that shone in a valiant sun on the barren trees. Most of all, Jamie wished for love. His longing gaze traced the handsome faces of men in the commuter crowd as he dashed to work. He dreamed about meeting a kind, loving man that would accept him for the eccentricity of his fairy heritage.

This season I’ll try to find a boyfriend. I can’t go on like this. He’d only experienced two relationships. They hadn’t lasted long. Somehow, he drove both guys away. Jamie Snow really didn’t know how, but he suspected he’d been seen swirling twinkling frost onto the winter dark leaves of the potted box shrubs on his patio. Yes, Christmas is a good time to find someone at parties, bars, seasonal fetes, and … and. His thoughts halted. He didn’t socialize much and he knew it. Still, he promised himself, as his loneliness bit deep, I’ll ask out the first handsome man I see whose attitude even only hints at being gay. Hmm … that might not be wise … I’ll, I’ll be able to see in his eyes that he’s gay, that he wants me … yes…

Jamie stared at his computer screen. The isobar maps came into focus as he stopped daydreaming and concentrated on his work.

****

Nathan Bloom gulped some of his rapidly cooling coffee as he swiped the screen of his phone with a practiced thumb.

“Will you take care of the office building lights again this season, Nathan?” Tom handed out the jobs for the coming month.

Nathan glanced up from his smartphone. He put down his coffee mug. “I guess so. Will I be covering the night repairs for the main street, too, this time?” He didn’t know why he asked this because he usually scored the repair job, but the faint hope that someone else would take on this part of the job in Christmas week flamed bright.

“Well, that would be great.” Nathan’s boss, Tom, tried a smile.

Nathan guessed it was to soften the blow that everyone knew he was the only guy in the company without a family or a relationship. It made him a target for working anti-social hours on most holidays. Nathan didn’t want to fight about it. If he was honest, and not fooling himself that he’d get out and meet a gorgeous loving guy, on some nights repairing a light or two in the huge festive displays was the only outing he’d taken. “Sure. It’s okay.” He gave Tom a quick smile.

Relief entered Tom’s eyes. “Thanks. You’ll be paid.”

Nathan looked back at his smartphone screen, even though there were no messages. It was a given he’d have a little extra in his salary for the holiday work. What really bit at Nathan was the fact that yet again, he had no loved one who’d cuddle up with him for Christmas. His one remaining close friend from college was off on a tropical vacation to escape the cold. Something Nathan couldn’t afford after buying an apartment the year before. Nathan’s dad had long since cut ties with him. It was the usual scenario for holidays.

Nathan picked up his tool belt from where he’d stowed it under his seat, stood, and strapped it on.

Yvonne from accounts watched him again. Nathan gave a sidelong glance in her direction. Her hopeful gaze raked him from head to waist and on down his thighs. Nathan looked away quickly. He wished he could tell her there was no way she’d fulfil her hope. He loved guys. Always had, always would.

Nathan longed for the comfort of strong masculine arms around him. He went to sleep at night reliving the one kiss he’d shared with a hunk in the last six months. Somehow he’d become isolated from a gay crowd. Most of the guys he’d known in college split for other cities. Nathan stayed behind. His sick mom needed his company. She’d passed two years ago. Nathan’s dad had snubbed him at her funeral. A gay son wasn’t his idea of—anything.

As he exited the staff lunchroom Nathan decided that this year he’d attend every party, request to get a beer after work no matter how casual, and festive celebration. This holiday season I’ll find a guy to love.

Copyright Elodie Parkes, Encompass Ink

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For #FirstChapterFriday we're in Spain where Aiden meets Santiago #gayromance #MMromance #paranormalromance @parr_books

First Chapter Friday is from recent release

Dear Heart

Aiden Flint goes on vacation with three friends to Pamplona, Spain. Seeking excitement, they will run with the bulls in the festival of St. Fermin. As the four friends enjoy the nightlife, they notice an attractive man watching Aiden in the bars they visit. In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches the handsome man.

Enigmatic Santiago Arista is sexy, kind, desperate for love, and achingly lonely. He’s just about given up on finding love, until one warm, summer night, sitting alone in a bar, he sees gorgeous Aiden. He’s elated when Aiden joins him at his table.

Deep attraction swirls between them. At the end of the night when they share a kiss, Aiden can’t believe the bliss that enfolds him, but have both men found someone to love just when fate is about to throw Aiden into mortal danger?

Chapter One

Darkness characterized Santiago’s earthbound world. He lived in it and with it weighing heavy in his heart. Centuries passed without a break in his solitariness. He no longer used his special gifts. He left weeks between his visits to the markets, until hunger forced him out for fruit and bread. He ventured into the nightlife less and less, convinced he’d never find a companion to ease his loneliness in venues he’d haunted for decades.

Then one night, driven by despair into the bars dotting the Spanish city where he currently dwelt, Santiago laid eyes on a man whose looks set his thoughts and heart racing. Who is he? How can I meet him? Could he ever want to know a sorry soul like me? He is beautiful.

Santiago sat with his vodka melting the crushed ice in the tall glass he favored and always ordered. He gazed at the young man with yearning growing in his heart until he ached. Santiago named him “dear heart” so that he could daydream that they were together, a couple—lovers.

Dear heart sat with his friends, but on that first night he glanced at Santiago a few times, his clear blue eyes searching Santiago’s face. When dear heart visited the restroom, he openly stared at Santiago, and in his gaze, Santiago read interest, sexual attraction—pure need.

Long empty of positive emotions, Santiago’s heart filled with hope. He hardly took his eyes from dear heart. He savored every contour of muscle beneath the young man’s t-shirt, and sighed over dear heart’s thick, dark hair, wishing he could run his fingers through the softness. When his chosen one left the bar with his friends, Santiago followed, to the next bar, and then the next, until dear heart smiled at him as he passed where Santiago set up his watch, holding a chilled glass in his equally cold hand. The smile warmed Santiago as nothing ever had. Amazed, he left it too late to return the smile—dear heart and his friends disappeared onto the night street thronging with vacationers.

Santiago combed the bars each night thereafter until he found where dear heart drank a beer with his friends. Then he would sit and soak up the sight of the beautiful stranger, desperate to talk to him, but afraid of rejection.

****

“That guy’s staring at you again, Aiden.” John jogged his elbow, forcing a wave of golden beer to slap on the side of the slender glass he carried. Drops flew into the air headed for the colorful tiled floor, and Aiden steadied his pace so as not to spill more.

His friend raced ahead to the other two men in their vacation party.

“Wait, you two.”

Aiden stole a glance over his shoulder at the man John had mentioned. Bright eyes captured his gaze. Aiden’s stomach clenched. Mystery, sex, and attraction radiated from the handsome man. Aiden’s mouth dried up. He tore himself away and hurried to the table where his friends sat laughing.

“He’s interested in you for sure. Crap, he’s still staring.” Noel leaned forward giving Aiden a wide-eyed, and yet salacious grin.

Jason put down his beer and punched Aiden lightly on the upper arm. He used his pet name for his friend. “Why not approach him, Aidey? There’s no one in your life. How many times have you bleated about your single status in the last six months? Have a holiday romance.”

Aiden’s shoulders drooped. He was the only single guy in his small group of friends and the only gay guy. He knew Jason was sincere, but Noel and John often made fun of him. Not malicious fun, but a gentle constant teasing that sometimes wearied him. Noel used it to mask his tendency to homophobia. John was the friendship group’s clown. Aiden picked up the beer he’d placed on the table and sipped at it.

In a day’s time, on the seventh of July, the first “running with the bulls” event would take place. The friends had come to participate in the Saint Fermin summer festival in Pamplona, and intended running with the bulls as many times as their nerve let them. Noel had raised the idea one night as they met for a meal and drinks in their favorite bistro. He’d lamented his mundane existence, and somehow the others in the group had commiserated enough for them all to agree to vacation in Spain that coming summer expressly to run with the bulls.

Aiden blinked away his trepidation at actually fulfilling the now imminent intention. He put down his beer, and in an attempt to chase away his fears, he turned and smiled at the gorgeous man whose stare just about penetrated his denim shirt.

Astonishment spread on the man’s face, and then he returned a shy smile.

Aiden took a deep breath, summoning his nerve. He stood, gave his friend Jason a tiny wave, and walked to the man’s table.

Copyright E.D. Parr 2019 Evernight Publishing

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