Everybody Wants Somebody
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by Shara Bloodstone
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: When writer Ken Harrison meets sexy, ultra-famous soap star Patrick Shaunessy, the passion between them is unexpected, but oh-so-delicious. Not only do they have much in common with jobs in the entertainment industry, they also have an opportunity to work together when Patrick and one of Ken's friends form an independent film company and ask Ken to write a screenplay for their first production. Ken is thrilled that his wildest dreams are finally coming true--he's found the man he believes is the love of his life at the same time his career goals are coming to fruition.
Patrick shares Ken's feelings, and would love nothing more than to be with the man he's certain is his soul mate. But Patrick's personal life is complicated and his professional life even more so. He's not out to his producers and his millions of female fans. And an old commitment of the relationship sort has a tight hold on him, with a constant threat of his secret being exposed if he tries to walk away from it.
Torn between their feelings for one another, their careers, what they want and what they know is right, the two men have to face the choice between losing each other, or risking everything to be together...
Genres: Gay / Contemporary / The Arts / Voyeurism / Exhibitionism / Public Places
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: February 2011
3 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [144 KB]
Reading time: 87-123 min.
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
"...I was attracted to this book because I liked the idea of a story set in and around the world of show-biz, and particularly that of the behind the scenes work that goes on with producers and writers...Short and pacey. The sex scenes were well written..."--Jenre, Reviews By Jessewave
Foster Price pulled his Beamer sedan up to valet parking. We both got out and strode into the Ritz-Carlton, one of Orlando's largest luxury hotels. A rush of energy and excitement gushed our way when we entered the lobby, as the place was teeming with conferences and meetings.
Foster rushed straight across the lobby's marbled floor, into a large, adjacent corridor. When he wanted to, he could really move that squat butt of his with incredible agility. I followed at a more leisurely pace and watched him shuffle up and down the polished marble floor, frenetically searching for the soap opera convention. Rather than follow him blindly, I stopped and scanned the announcements posted in gold frames beside each doorway. All I could discern were corporate names and keynote speakers, nothing resembling the glitz and glam of the soap opera world.
With arms folded in amusement, I watched Foster scamper from one meeting room to the next. He stopped before each sign and peered at them through his thick, black eyeglass frames. The way he scuttled along reminded me of a little black beetle searching for just the right leaf under which to hide.
"Foster, dude," I called out, "I don't see a sign for the soap convention. I'm going back to the front desk and ask."
He ignored me. I stood there another minute or so while he continued squinting up at signs flanking the highway to professional empowerment.
I sighed and strolled back toward the lobby's front desk. The lovely Asian American attendant stationed beside a massive vase of pink lilies politely informed me that the soap opera convention was in the ballroom downstairs. As I thanked her, I couldn't help but smirk at Foster's typical approach to getting things done, even when it came to running such an important errand as this. He tended to fly by the seat of his pants without reasoning things out ahead of time--as in this case. Here we were, in something of a time crunch to pick up a major soap star, and he was clueless about where to find him.
I sauntered over to the end of the corridor and stood next to a potted tree. Once I was certain Foster had spotted me, I waved. I knew at once he sensed my slightly smug demeanor, which indicated a minor victory for me over his kind of illogic.