Adore (Hidden Creek Season 2, Book 6) by E. Davies
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Length: 60,000 words
Cover Design: AngstyG
Hidden Creek Season 2 Buy Links:
Blurb
“I’m gonna go from twink to twunk.”
Tired of hookups, Caspian Grey is hitting the gym, though he can’t decide who he’s trying to impress—the sexy gym owner, or his dating app buddy, Bi Unicorn. If he can pack on some muscles, maybe a man will finally overlook his quirks and hold onto him.
Matt Rowan owns a safe, welcoming gym, but his bank account and love life are equally empty. Matt is too shy to ask out members—even the intriguing new guy. If only he could talk himself into meeting Swishy Like Wine, who seems like a perfect fit for the hole in his heart.
When homophobic protesters harass Matt's gym members, things risk falling apart completely, but Caspian supports his decision not to give them an inch. If they can learn to open up face-to-face, they might both be exactly what the other man needs.
Welcome to Hidden Creek, Texas, where the heart knows what it wants, and where true love lives happily ever after. Every Men of Hidden Creek novel can be read on its own, but keep an eye out for familiar faces around town! This book contains blush-inducing text messages, sassy church ladies to the rescue, and two badly timed gifts.
Excerpt
It was one of those weirdly busy evenings—several groups of friends arrived, a big group of athletes who lived closer to this gym than their usual rec center, and a few newbies who needed spotting.
Busy was good, though. Busy paid the rent.
After Matt locked up, he realized he’d almost forgotten his charging phone. He had to sprint back inside for it and just beat the security alarm before getting the door closed again. His adrenaline still racing, he glanced at his alerts and raised his eyebrow.
Someone had messaged him on Grindr a few hours ago. Goddamn, it was probably too late. If they were after a quickie, they would have found someone else by now.
Still, he paused after buckling up, but before pulling out of the lot. With a swipe of his finger, he opened the app and waited to see what the message was.
swishy like wine: Hey there. I was in the area and spotted you. Nice abs! Mind if I ask how you got them?
That was probably the most creative opening line he’d seen in months, which spoke volumes about the kind of interaction Grindr encouraged.
Granted, his profile picture was a headless torso shot, which was basically a signal for f*ck me but don’t talk to me in the morning, but it wouldn’t kill a guy to try now and then to boost his ego, at least. He liked Swishy already.
Smiling, Matt tapped out a message.
bi unicorn: Hey, sorry, I was at work. No problem! My routine’s pretty simple if you’re up for diet + exercise.
He checked the guy’s profile. The name already had him laughing. Swishy’s profile was pretty plain, with no photo, but he did say in the profile text that he wanted to meet fun people, not just for fun.
Judging by his stats, he was probably scrawny—he described himself as slim, which was the closest descriptor you could get on Grindr.
It wasn’t uncommon for guys to ask Matt about his routine. Back in Houston—when he’d lived there for college before he’d gotten sucked into 24/7 business ownership life—it had led to friendships. Why not try that again?
If Swishy wanted to meet for wine sometime, Matt occasionally let himself break his diet. Drinks might lead to more, they might not. At least it wasn’t another boring, secretive hookup in the dead of night. And it sure as hell beat sitting around at home, alone, staring through the TV.
He was home before he had his answer. He kicked his shoes off without even looking and dropped his keys on the table, too busy reading the response.
swishy like wine: I can do both… hopefully. Last time I lifted weights I nearly broke a toe.
The candid honesty had Matt laughing out loud. Not only did Swishy write complete sentences, but it was already easy to tell he had a wicked sense of humor.
bi unicorn: OMG. I don’t know about this then. I don’t want to send you to the ER.
swishy like wine: Worth it for abs like yours. ;)
Matt snickered and headed for the kitchen to grab half a gallon of milk and his dinner. “To hit on him or not to hit on him…” By the time he’d heated up the chicken breast, beans, and broccoli, he had his answer. “Definitely hit on him.”
He grabbed his phone and cracked his knuckles.
bi unicorn: Well, before I give you advice, I want to see what I’m working with. ;)
swishy like wine: I bet you think you’re smooth ;P
bi unicorn: I know I’m smooth! how close did you look at my photo?
swishy like wine: I plead the 5th
Matt laughed even harder this time. The flirting endorphins had kicked in, making him feel like he was floating between the microwave and the dining room table as he took his dinner there. He tried to come up with witty things to say as he ate.
bi unicorn: This is about your close shave, not mine. Are you going to break a nail if you lift?
swishy like wine: Excuse you? This better not be some masc4masc sh*t bro. I can hack a good workout
bi unicorn: God no. I know femmes who can kick my ass… in heels
swishy like wine: Me too. Maybe we know the same people :)
Matt finished dinner and put away his plate as he debated where to take the conversation next. But before he could, Swishy sent him photos.
None with his face, which was unfortunate. Matt liked to see people’s eyes. It was a good indicator of who they were—however people tried to hide themselves, their eyes told the truth.
Then again, Swishy had been pretty open already. And these photos weren’t very subtle. He wore tight shorts and he was shirtless.
And he couldn’t help but notice as he zoomed in on the abs to check for definition and separation—there was none of either—the lace peeking up from the waistband.
Matt was pretty sure he liked the implications. In fact, he was a hundred percent certain he liked them.
Now what the hell was he going to do?
About the Author
E. Davies grew up moving constantly, which taught him what people have in common, the ways relationships are formed, and the dangers of “miscellaneous” boxes. As a young gay author whose role models were characters punished for their sexuality, Ed prefers his stories lightly dramatic, full of optimism and hope.
Now out and proud, he writes full-time, goes on long nature walks, tries to fill his passport, drinks piña coladas on the beach, flees from cute guys, coos over fuzzy animals (especially bees), and is liable to tilt his head and click his tongue if you don't use your turn signal.
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