They say opposites attract. Can a geek and a hunk find happiness among the ghostly apparitions at Whisker's Seaside Inn?
Two very different men with one shared problem.
Frankie Nelson is a computer geek with a problem. He's caught his life partner cheating on him, and the socially awkward side of him is not sure how to deal with it. He decides to get away and clear his head, winding up at Whiskers' Seaside Inn, the Oceanside home of his Aunt Delia.
Raul Herrara is a sporty outdoorsman who doesn't even own a computer. When he meets Frankie it's apparent they have little in common—other than a mutual deep lusty desire for each other. Just when Raul realises he's fallen for the shy nerd, Frankie's partner comes to claim him. Unless Frankie can speak up for himself, the new relationship may be over before it's really begun.
About the Author
Jenna thinks everyone deserves a happy ending, and loves to provide as many of those as possible to her gay, lesbian and hetero characters. Her favourite quote, from a pro-gay billboard, is “Be careful who you hate. It may be someone you love.”
Jude's imagination frequently leads her astray and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble, or at least, not get caught. For those of you who know her, you'll know that's not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. Her male characters run the gamut from the dominant male ruling his women with an iron fist, to a simpering purple-clad boy-toy whose only desire is to please. As diverse and as richly depicted, her women find themselves in a myriad of exotic and erotic situations.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Jude Mason, Jenna Byrnes 2013. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
The Blue Goose was exactly how Frankie Nelson remembered it—small, smelling of greasy burgers and decorated with all manner of blue paraphernalia that could possibly be connected with the ocean. The tables were scratched and stained, probably from years of children and teens who thought paying the bill meant they had the right to mark their territory. What a goose had to do with it was anyone’s guess.
Outside, Cape Harbour could’ve been a town caught in some kind of time warp. When he’d driven down Main Street, he’d honestly felt as if he’d stepped into the eighties, perhaps even earlier. The only giveaway of the present was the cars, and not all of them. Some looked as ancient as the berg. He smiled—like he knew anything about cars. He gave his head a shake and thought of his Auntie Roo, and how much he’d loved visiting her here when he was a child. Times had changed, but he hoped their relationship hadn’t.
"Can I get you another cup of tea?" The calm voice of the waitress dragged him back to the present.
He looked up at her pleasantly. The woman was middle-aged and had pulled her hair back into a bun. The way she’d overly made-up her face was a definite step into the past. The bodice of her polka-dot dress stretched over a bust that reminded him of two soft dinner rolls and the stark white apron hiding most of the woman’s cleavage didn’t help. A chuckle escaped, and he quickly said, "No, no, thank you, ma’am." He picked up the cup of cool tea he’d been sipping for the last half hour and promptly spilled it on his shirtfront.
The woman gasped and grabbed the towel she had draped over her shoulder. Leaning forward, she dabbed at this chest, while he sputtered about being clumsy and grabbed his netbook before it got soaked. When he was sure he couldn’t be more embarrassed, she said quietly, "At least it wasn’t your slacks. Just rinse your shirt later and the tea shouldn’t stain." Without another word, she placed his bill on the table then turned and made a beeline for a table at the far end of the room.
Frankie blinked and pushed his glasses up his nose, again. He picked up the last of the dry napkins and patted his netbook down, while trying to restore as much of his dignity as he could. Certain the computer was all right, he got to his feet, ready to leave. He thrust his free hand into the back pocket of his slacks, fishing for his wallet, determined to give the woman a decent gratuity. With the Acer in one hand and the bill in the other, he looked down at the remains of his sweet roll, the empty cup and the small pile of damp napkins.
"I’m such a klutz," he muttered and hurried to the front of the café, suddenly eager to be on his way.
His waitress arrived and he fumbled his bank card out then handed it to her.
"That’ll be six twenty-nine, sir," she said, now sounding more tired than anything. She punched buttons on the machine then handed it to him.
Frankie tapped in his pin and added a nice tip for the woman, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. Once she’d given him his copies of the transaction, he nodded gratefully and left.
Outside, he took a deep breath of the sea air, again hoping his decision to take a break from life was the right one. Auntie Roo had always been his favourite, so he was glad she’d agreed to let him come and stay for a while.
He’d parked about half a block away on the street and was headed that way when he saw a brilliant, candy-apple-red sports car driving towards him. He stopped, admiring the sleek beauty of the car.
Frankie blinked. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at the handsome hunk behind the wheel. Light brown skin and thick, shaggy black hair were the first things he noticed. Standing on the kerb with his mouth agape, he realised the hunk’s dark eyes were trained directly on him.
The car moved on, but Frankie’s gaze remained glued to the man behind the wheel, until he was lost to view. Across the back of the car, he spotted the words Cayman S.
Frankie sighed, and felt his face grow warm. He was blushing, a habit that drove him crazy. The sudden tightness in the front of his slacks was another reaction he suffered through at the most inopportune moments. He glanced around, hoping no one would notice. There was no one close, and he hurried to his sensible blue Corolla.
Once he was behind the wheel, he felt comfortable enough to readjust the front of his slacks.
"Oh my." He grinned, thinking of the sexy man who’d caused his flush and the hard-on jutting from his middle. He placed his netbook on the passenger’s seat, started the engine and put the little car in gear. After a final look in the direction the red sports car had taken, along with its hunky driver, Frankie pulled onto the road.
The journey to Whiskers’ Seaside Inn was both familiar and new. He’d travelled the winding road along the coast many times in his youth, but he’d never driven it. Years of traffic had worn the pavement, but the view of the sea would always be the same. Trees had grown, a new house or two along the way made for distraction and the wide expanse of beach with its variety of rocks and fallen trees gave his journey some interest he hadn’t been expecting. When he pulled into the inn’s parking lot, he was glad to see the place hadn’t changed. Even the paint colour was the same.
He parked in front and tucked his netbook under his arm, then climbed out and got his suitcase from the backseat.
The walk from his car into the lobby was like taking a momentary step back into his youth. Standing just inside the door, he blinked and gave his eyes time to adjust from the brilliant glare of the sun to the more subdued inside lighting. He quickly spotted a pair of very good-looking men standing behind the desk talking to each other.