I dropped down to kiss him again, nodding as I went. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He stroked his fingers lightly over my back, a gentle, soothing caress. “I’m so goddamn lucky,” he whispered, his voice soft and reverent.
I pulled back, my eyes finding his. “I’m the lucky one, Elijah. You’re everything I never knew I wanted.”
And, later, when he welcomed me into his body for the first time, I told him it finally felt like coming home.
Want More Oliver and Elijah?
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A Note From The Author
I never intended to write this book. All through 2020, I worked on a handful of other stories, never quite hitting my stride with any of them. Then, The Bachelorette was back on our TV’s, and Clare Crawley was accusing her suitors of being more interested in bro’ing out with each other than pursuing a relationship with her.
That night, the kernel of an idea was formed: what if two men in a Bachelorette-style mansion spent so much time together that they forged a friendship stronger than their bond with the woman they were supposed to want to marry at the end of it all? And what if, over the many weeks they were sequestered together, that friendship morphed into something more? Would they give in to their feelings? And if they did, how would they keep up appearances? And ultimately, what would happen when they left the protective bubble of their seclusion? Would their relationship be able to survive out in the real world?
Thus, Oliver and Elijah were born. That first night, I wrote three chapters and never looked back.
As I sit here less than six weeks later preparing this manuscript for publication, I can honestly say this was one of the most enjoyable stories I’ve ever written. And I know it’s not currently fashionable to write something that is very simply about two people meeting and falling in love (I suppose I could have tried to make Oliver an NFL quarterback dragon shifter or had Elijah kidnapped by his evil arms-dealing employer and held for ransom), but for the year we’re in, I think we can all use a heartwarming, soul-affirming take on happily ever after. I hope you found that with my heroes.
Acknowledgments
This book literally could not exist without Jamaila Brinkley. There’s no one else in the world I’d want to send a text message to at midnight about all the ways I’m about to torture my characters. Her insight, suggestions, and gentle prods make me a better writer, and I’ll never be able to thank her enough for any of it.
My heartfelt gratitude goes out to the unnamed individuals who talked me through their own journeys of understanding and self-acceptance as I fine-tuned Oliver’s personality. You know who you are.
Thanks to Chris Evans for simply existing. Who would be my muse were it not for you?
And finally, a huge clap-clap-clap out goes out to my Uncle Larry for dragging me to so many UCLA football games when I was a kid that I was convinced they were the best team in the world. Over thirty years later, and I can still rattle off Troy Aikman’s stats like a boss. I may not watch football anymore, but I’ll never forget the memories we created tailgating at the Rose Bowl.
More M/M Romance
If you enjoyed Oliver and Elijah’s road to happily ever after, I want you to meet Liam Donnelly and Lachlan MacLeod. Their book TEST ME is an angsty, sexy M/M sports romance set in the world of professional rugby. Keep reading for a sneak peek …
TEST ME
(Dublin Rugby #4)
All my life I looked and I wondered. Could I? Would I? And then one night, I did. But when I sampled a taste of that forbidden fruit, my whole world came crashing down—my contract with Dublin Rugby right along with it.
So when the chance to play in Edinburgh comes along, I know it’s my best shot at putting my life back together. To go back to pretending I don’t need something more.
But one glance at Chef Lachlan MacLeod’s whiskey-colored eyes, the scruff dotting his jaw, and the colorful ink lining his forearms, and I want more than what’s on the menu at his famous restaurant.
I want him, but I don’t know if I’m brave enough to risk everything on something so uncertain. My head says no, while my body says oh hell yes. But it’s my heart that’s telling me life will never feel as right as it does when I’m in Lachlan’s arms.
Liam
My dessert—a molten chocolate cake cooked in a mug over an open fire at the back of the kitchen—had been cleared away nearly thirty minutes before. I’d also already paid my bill but hadn’t yet budged from my stool. Watching Lachlan work, I suddenly understood why cooking shows were so damn popular.
Or maybe it was just him.
Whatever this new fascination of mine was, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the hot, tattooed chef working in front of me.
Which probably explained why this was the fifth time I’d eaten at his restaurant in the last two weeks.
“When do you officially start training?” Lachlan asked, keeping his eyes on the food he was plating.
“Two more weeks.” I stretched my arms above my head and arched my back to crack my spine. While I may have revised my earlier opinion of celebrity chefs, nothing would ever change my mind of these damn bar stools they insisted on putting in their restaurants. After a three-hour meal, my ass was sore and my neck and shoulders ached. But despite this discomfort, I continued watching him work, getting to know him better. Letting him get to know me.
“You must be looking forward to it.”
I cracked my neck. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get back on the pitch. To get to know my new teammates.”
“Have you met any of them before?” he asked, passing the final plate of the night to another chef to add a thick red sauce that smelled like cinnamon and berries.
“Normally I would be familiar with most of the lads through league play, but with my injury last season I didn’t get as much game time as I would like. And with a lot of turnover on their roster, I don’t know as many as I should.”
I’d reached out to a few of the lads I knew in passing from playing against each other for several years and had gone to drinks with one or two of them, but by and large, I was walking into a new organization blind, something I hadn’t done since I’d played school rugby. For years, I’d been one of the elder statesmen for Dublin, and I’d never given serious thought to starting over again. At least not until it’d been a necessity.
“You follow the sport?” I asked.
Lachlan laughed and shook his head. “No, can’t say that I do.” Pausing to wipe down his station, his eyes—the same color as the whiskey I’d drank earlier in the night—locked on mine while he swiped the rag back and forth over the stainless-steel surface. “Maybe I’ll go to a match this season, though. See what all the fuss is about.” His gaze roamed my face, skated over my shoulders and my chest, and then dropped down quickly before flicking back up. He couldn’t see that I was sporting a semi beneath the counter, but when he licked his lips appreciatively, it seemed as if he knew exactly how he affected me.