Click on image to enlarge.
|
A Good Neighbor
by Clare London
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Dylan admits it himself, he's a relentlessly single man in a small town, consoled only by being a good teacher and a devoted nephew to his Great-Aunts. When the Aunts take a hand in matchmaking him with Josie, the girl down the street, Dylan doesn't tell them what kind of soulmate he's really looking for--and the fact that he's already found the man in question, Josie's brother Neal. But a secret affair can't go on forever, can it? Faced with a heart-wrenching decision when his chance at love seems to be moving even farther out of his reach, Dylan knows it's time for him to own up to what he wants...and what kind of man he really is... Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Romantic Comedy
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: January 2010
 
33 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [74 KB]
Words: 15317
Reading time: 43-61 min.
"...A charming short story of life and gay love in a small town. Dylan has lived most of his life in this town and fears losing his job as a teacher, if he publicly acknowledges that he is gay. Neal is open about his sexuality but respects Dylan's wishes to hide their affair. Clare London has created a pleasurable story with a standard man-love theme...The aunts are amusing, which contributed enjoyment to this lighthearted saga."--Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews
"4.25 Stars!...Both characters were exquisitely drawn and this is typical of Clare London...Clare had a lot of fun with Dylan's outré aunts. I won't describe them because you have to experience them for yourself. All I will say is that they were priceless and had many surprising facets to their personalities...I loved this book and I think you will too if you read between the lines. By the way the sex was smokin'. This story is told in the 1st-person POV from Dylan's perspective. Definitely recommended."--Wave, Reviews By Jessewave
I smiled to myself and clutched the overblown bunch of blooms Bess had insisted I take with me. I felt hot and awkward in my jacket and smart shirt. Hoping that Mitzi might have tired of staring at me, I ran a hand through my hastily combed hair, ruffling it back up. Damned if I couldn't hear in my mind Bess's snort of disapproval at my slovenly behavior. The door opened abruptly. For a few seconds, I just stared. My heart was hammering, fierce as anything. But the smile that greeted me was broad and mischievous and full of a welcoming love for life. It was also very familiar. Dark, strong features. With a mental nod to the Aunts, I stepped inside. My sight began to adjust to the change, the hallway furniture throwing elongated shadows across the pale, waning sunlight, and then the front door slammed behind me as if cutting me off from the life outside... And I was plunged into another one. I never had a chance to speak. The bouquet was snatched from my hands and flung onto the low table by the door. I was pushed back against the wall and a hard, flat chest pressed against mine, hot breath panting in my ear, hands reaching to push my jacket off my shoulders. Strong hands. Impatient. "Fuck." The voice was harsh and masculine. A man's face brushed against mine, the jawline rough with a half-day's stubble, the eyes gazing hungrily at me. "You're early! I thought we said tomorrow." I laughed aloud, partly from protest, partly from the sheer joy of the touch. He was a few inches taller than I was, his body stocky, his shoulders broad. As he opened his arms to wrap them around me, the faded fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his chest, accentuating the sinewy planes of his torso. "The Aunts insisted I come over today. I didn't know when you were planning to arrive. If you were. Look, I can go..." "Don't you fucking dare!" he snapped, but his eyes danced with pleasure, not anger. The hallway smelled of furniture polish and the lingering aroma of warm toast. Up close, I could also smell strong coffee on his breath, but then he always drank too much of it, a symptom of his commitment to ridiculously long hours of writing and traveling. His face nuzzled into my neck, his skin warm, his thick curls uncombed and brushing his shoulders, just the way I liked it. I ran my fingers into it, tangling tightly, tugging back his head. Hard, just the way he liked it.
|
)
