Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance #2) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | R.G. Alexander |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
Ever had a crush on your best friend? That feeling when you’re a thirty-year-old gay virgin with no social life, nosy neighbors and a lot of awkward, secret fantasies revolving around your straight best friend? Yeah, that’s me right now. Brendan Kinkaid was there for me during the darkest period of my life, so when the sexy pilot shows up suspended and needing a place to crash, there’s no question that I’ll take him in. That’s when things get weird. He’s acting like a stranger. A stranger who wants to spend his two-week layover taking our friendship to another level. It's either the beginning of a great porno or a disaster waiting to happen. I’m tempted to give in, but no matter what he says, I know he’s not looking for a permanent place to land. And I’m not sure I can live with what I’ll lose when he flies away again. Warning: This book contains explicit m/m sex. Yep. Two guys getting naked and falling in love. With each other. Don’t act so surprised. It may also contain bungee cord bondage, exhibitionism, massages with happy endings, a large cast of characters, and Peruvian flutes. Did I mention the sex? *This book has characters from book 1 of the Finn Pub romance series as well as a few from the bestselling Finn Factor series, but it can be read as a standalone if you don’t feel like binging. | |
| Books in Series: | Finn's Pub Romance Series by R.G. Alexander |
| Books by Author: | R.G. Alexander Books |
Chapter One
Cupid Fail
Miller
A thirty-year-old virgin sits in a crowded pub, fondling his nuts...
Yeah, don’t get your hopes up—this isn’t the start of a porno. As usual when it comes to my social life, it isn’t as exciting as it sounds.
Why did I agree to this again?
“Earth to Miller Day.”
Glancing up from the bowl of bar nuts I’ve been absently sorting through, I freeze like a damn squirrel catching sight of a predator. There’s the look I’ve been dreading all night—Austen Wayne is on to me.
Desperate to delay the inevitable, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I was just thinking about turning over a new leaf. Going out more, you know? I could see myself being a regular at a place like this. A pub guy. Maybe I’d hang out with those three old men holding down the bar. Though from where I’m sitting now, I’ve got the perfect view of a group of off-duty fireman playing darts.”
I might as well stop selling, because she isn’t buying it. She knows me too well.
I’ll never be a pub guy.
“From where I’m sitting, Mr. Day,” she counters ominously, “you’ve only got two choices.”
Shit, where the hell are they? Brendan’s text this morning swore they’d be five minutes behind us, but Austen and I have been sitting here talking for over an hour with no sign of either of them. And they’re not easy guys to miss.
The longer we wait, the guiltier I feel about Austen. She and I have known each other for a year now. We met at Indulgence, the popular multi-level spa and salon where I work as a massage therapist. She rents space in my section, offering facials and beauty regime counseling, as well as her own line of skincare products. We’ve gotten to know each other between clients, and I genuinely like everything about her.
Which might explain why I’m feeling like an ass right now.
After all, I’m the one that invited her here on the pretext of brainstorming some ideas for her upcoming product parties. The truth is, this whole thing is a setup.
God, I hate matchmaking. Even thinking the word makes my skin crawl. Why did I let Brendan talk me into it?
Brushing the salt off my hands, I lean back, pretending an ease I don’t feel as I continue to bluff my ass off. “These are mixed nuts, Austen. There are four different varieties to choose from in this bowl alone. If we add that to the amount of men currently wandering around this bar, each carrying a pair while trying to get your undivided attention—”
“Oh, you’ve moved on from fidgety to funny now. That’s okay. I’ll wait.” She folds her arms fold gracefully on the table and stares me down, ignoring the half a dozen guys I’ve seen circling our table like hungry hyenas.
I can’t blame them. Austen is gorgeous, with flawless dark skin, eternally perfect hair and a smile that makes everyone feel seen and special. None of her current admirers would guess that the lovely entrepreneur who always dresses like she’s on her way to a fashion shoot also happens to have the soul of an inventor, a keen sense of humor—
And the tenacity of a gritty, B-movie vice cop when she thinks someone isn’t being straight with her.
Damn, I’m so busted.
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll bite—what two choices?”
“Confession or painful torture.” Austen narrows her eyes suspiciously. “There’s something going on with you, Miller Day. Confess.”
In lieu of confession, I’d much rather be at home eating the empanadas currently going to waste in my fridge. Or maybe watching DIY channels on YouTube as I map out my scheduled house project for the weekend.
Look out, Property Brothers—I’m comin’ for you with my mad home improvement skillz.
That’s about as wild as my Friday nights usually get.
“Nothing’s ever going on with me. Isn’t that what they say on the Mean Girl side of the salon?”
The stylists at Indulgence aren’t afraid to vocalize their disappointment when it comes to my lack of lifestyle. I don’t dress to impress, I don’t go clubbing, and I never have noisy, emotional breakups with hot boyfriends named Javier.
Miller Day, ladies and gentlemen—ruining gay stereotypes for catty women everywhere.
But I can’t help who I am. I like to be comfortable, I’d rather eat nails than go to a gay club, and the only guy I’ve dated in the last year was a mildly attractive middle-school teacher named Robbie. Regrettable Robbie, who showed me once and for all why I was better off working on my house than ever dating again.
“Forget those idiots and focus, Miller. Your mind is wandering and I’m about to solve a mystery here.”
I swallow my smile, take a drink of my water and nod obediently. “I’m all ears, Sherlock.”
“I just texted my sister while you were over there gathering wool, and she confirmed that there is neither a surprise party nor a family gathering happening here in my honor.” She points to my glass of sparkling water. “You rarely go out and when you do, you never drink, so bringing me to a bar—this bar in particular—instead of a diner or a donut shop to discuss taking my parties to the next level is highly suspect.”