As the two get to know each other better, they feel drawn together, and slowly they take tentative steps toward something real. Their attraction soon flares hot, but Greg’s fears overwhelm him, sending him running. It’s up to Keith to help Greg learn to trust in himself—and in the way they feel about each other.
Second edition.. first edition published as Accidental Love by Amber Quill Press, LLC/Amber Allure, 2012.
Buy links: Dreamspinner Press | Amazon
While Keith and Greg seem like total opposites, they actually have a few things in common. They're both college students, they're both gay and they both have a troubled past they are trying to put behind them... they both just want to move on. If they paid enough attention to each other, they'd know the pull to one another, the attraction is mutual as well. When Keith finally figures out Greg is gay, he lays the seduction technique on pretty thick. Will his charm pull Greg in? Or drive him away?
This was a fast paced read with a good bit of content for so few pages. I enjoyed the dash of suspense as the layers are slowly pulled back, learning what had happened to each young man that put them on the path that led them to each other. There were a couple of times that the story didn't connect well from one scene to the next, a bit choppy I guess you'd say. The shared chemistry and the heady scene when they finally stopped fighting the inevitable was very moving.
If you're looking for a fast, fun read with modicum of angst, you should consider grabbing a copy of Fall. I give this one 3.5 stars... but that's just my two cents.
AFTER MIDNIGHT Sunday, and still no sign of Keith.
Greg sighed and flopped over onto his back in the narrow bed. He reminded himself it was none of his business what his roommate did. He had more than enough to worry about with his own life. He didn’t need to start freaking out over Keith’s weekend activities.
But Keith had never been this late getting in on Sunday night.
During the week, Greg’s roommate was as squeaky-clean as they came. In bed by eleven, never missed a class, studied… studiously. (Greg rolled his eyes at himself, but his vocabulary always deteriorated as the night wore on.) Keith was friendly, neat, and cheerful.
But every weekend since the term started, he’d disappear, and every time, he came back with his clothes wrinkled, smelling of smoke, alcohol, and sex, and headed straight for the showers. A half hour later he emerged as the Keith that Greg knew the rest of the week, clean and smiling.
It wasn’t Keith’s fault that it was killing Greg not to know the weekend version of Keith. Or that he couldn’t sleep now, waiting for Keith to get home, trying not to think the worst.
The University of Illinois at Chicago hadn’t been Greg’s first choice. Not by a long shot. He started college in St. Louis, just an hour from his Missouri hometown, but after a year of wild parties, too much casual sex, and not nearly enough studying, his mother had sat him down and told him to leave.
“I love you too much to watch you throw yourself away like this,” she said, and for maybe the first time since he came out at fifteen, he believed her.
Greg sobered up, literally and figuratively, turned over several new leaves, and went off to Chicago the next fall, taking the first acceptance he received. Now he found himself sharing a room with one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen, but over a month had passed, and he still knew next to nothing about Keith’s private life.
What he did know could fit on a single page of his journal. (He knew; he’d written it out late one weekend night, alone in their room.) A sophomore like Greg, but majoring in graphic design instead of communications, Keith dressed conservatively, wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. Boxer briefs too, although Greg tried not to think about the few times he’d gotten a glimpse of those, and the not-insignificant package underneath. Keith kept his straight black hair short, but as it grew, it started curling around the edges. He had tawny skin, light brown eyes, a wide smile, and a deep, rich laugh.
About the only truly personal thing Greg knew about Keith was that he loved old movies. Once or twice a week, he’d watch an old film in their room, and he’d always try to get Greg to watch with him.
“C’mon, Greg, it’s All About Eve,” Keith said one typical night, trying to pull Greg away from the copy of The Savage Detectives he was reading for his Current Literature symposium. “It’s intrigue and backstabbing and Bette Davis. What’s not to love?”
“It’s old and in black and white,” Greg said, never lifting his gaze from the page. “Which is fantastic in book form, but for film? Not so much.”
Keith gave a much-put-upon sigh and settled on his bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm curled behind his head. Greg tried not to notice the four-inch strip of firm, ripped abs that peeked out from below the hem of Keith’s T-shirt, or the light sprinkling of hair running from there under the waistband of Keith’s low-slung jeans. He didn’t have that much willpower to spare.
Pulling his mind out of memory, Greg stared at the clock again: 12:37 a.m. He flipped over and stared at Keith’s bed, crisply made up and empty, when it should be filled with Keith’s long, lanky frame, twisted and curled to fit. Keith might be neat during the day, but at night, when he was sleeping, he was anything but. He sprawled, he contorted, he shifted and moved. Greg wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d fallen out of bed in the middle of the night, but that, at least, had yet to happen.
Greg pondered what to do. He couldn’t exactly call campus security or the cops and say, “Hey, my roommate, who’s gone every weekend to who-knows-where, didn’t come back at the usual time tonight, and I have no clue where he might be. Timbuktu, maybe?”
Right then and there, he resolved to find out something, anything, of substance about his roommate. If he was going to lie awake at night worrying, he at least deserved to know the person he was worrying about.
Just as that thought cleared his mind, the door opened, slowly, carefully, and Keith slipped inside. Greg slammed his eyes shut and tried to feign sleep as best he could, but it was hard when he could hear Keith moving around, trying to be quiet, even though both of them knew that was an impossibility in a room this small.
Shae Connor lives in Atlanta, where she works for the government by day and reads and writes about people falling in love by night. She's been making up stories for as long as she can remember, but it took her a long time to figure out that maybe she should start writing them down. Now, she usually has far too many stories in progress, but when she does manage to tear herself away from her laptop, she enjoys running, hiking, cooking, and traveling, not necessarily in that order.
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