Two years after his life fell apart, Will Dawson moved to Florida to start over. His job in the tech department of Idyll Fling, a gay porn studio, is ideal for him. When his boss forces him to take on a new hire, the last person he expects is Dallas Greene—the man who cost him his job and his boyfriend back in Connecticut. He doesn’t know what’s on Dallas’s agenda, but he won’t be blindsided by a wolf masquerading as a runway model. Not again.
Dallas might have thrown himself on his brother’s mercy, but his skills are needed at Idyll Fling. Working with Will is a bonus, since Dallas has never forgotten the man. A good working relationship is only the beginning of what Dallas wants with Will.
But Dallas doesn’t realize how deep Will’s distrust runs, and Will doesn’t know that the man he’s torn between loving and hating is the boss’s brother. When all truths are revealed, how can a relationship built on lies still stand?
Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon
Cat gives this one 4 Meows with a 3 Purr heat index...
Will is a Teck manager for a porn studio. He is overwhelmed with all the work and rarely has time for anything else. His boss keeps on him to hire more help, but Will doesn't want to risk someone young man coming in and stealing his job. Again. So he keeps all the work to himself burying himself deeper and deeper.
Dallas is down on his luck, having lost his job, boyfriend, and kicked out of his family. He has just had surgery and is broke and homeless. He turns to his half-brother, Stefan. Stefan gives him a place to stay and hires him to help his tech manager at his porn studio, not knowing the extent of their past.
Plaid Versus Paisley is the 2nd book in the series. Though this is Will's story, I suggest you read book #1 first ( I didn't) and was lost at times. From the description of Tartan Plaid book # 1, it doesn't sound like Will is mentioned, but I think I would have enjoyed this more if I had read the first one first.
Having said that. I really liked this book. I loved Dallas especially. At times Will grated on my nerves, but a good character should evoke emotion in their reader. I did understand his change in personality and why he would not want anyone else in his workspace. Sparks flew the moment these to reconnected, and that made the flames hotter when they connected physically.
I love a good enemies-to-lovers book, and that's why I chose this one. I wasn't disappointed either. It is also Older/man younger man and workplace romance two more of my favorite sub-genres. If you like any of those genres and love a good romance with some hot man-sex Oh, I forgot to mention they work at a porn studio, so there are lots of hot studs, you will like this book.
DALLAS GREENE turned off the car and slumped over the steering wheel. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. He’d been on the road for twenty-four hours, including a couple of naps at rest stops. Please don’t let this be a mistake. All he’d done recently was make mistakes like they were his greatest skill, compounding each error with another bad decision. But sitting in the car would only delay the inevitable.
With trembling fingers, he pulled the keys from the ignition and got out. A couple of joints popped, and his muscles protested. Surely other twenty-four-year-old guys didn’t feel like they’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler, but then, he hadn’t been at his best for two years now.
He stared at the house. It wasn’t what he expected. Bigger. Nicer. Then again, he knew for a fact his parents had been lying when they’d told him his half brother, Stefan, was destitute, diseased, depraved, and at death’s door. It had been a surprisingly lyrical rant, what with all the alliteration, but this house wasn’t any different than any of the others he’d passed on his journey from the interstate. No pickets or protestors. No slanderous graffiti. No junkies or thugs. Just a house like any other in an affluent suburb, although not nearly as affluent as his parents’ community.
After locking the car—it and its contents comprised the entirety of his possessions—he trudged up the drive. Each step made his stomach twist and roil. If he’d eaten anything in the past… oh… day or so, he’d be worried about puking.
The bright midafternoon sun beat down on him, the humidity almost brutally oppressive after the chill of the A/C in the car. It had been months since he’d felt warm all the way to his toes, though, so he wasn’t going to complain. Maybe he should have rethought wearing a suit for his impromptu drive to Florida in September. Who would have thought it would be this hot, when part of his drive down had been through fall foliage?
Most of his wardrobe consisted of business professional, and he wanted to make a good impression. And also because he’d left Connecticut yesterday wearing one, not having realized when he woke up that he’d be making an eighteen-hour drive plus stops because his life had taken yet another turn toward the shitter.
He rang the doorbell. There was a wide window to the left of the door, with decorative and functional bars curling throughout the glass. Opaque white fabric sheathed the window from the inside, and Dallas suspected that under no circumstances would anyone be able to even spot shadows of people moving within.
Antsy and anxious, he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of his gray suit jacket before he glanced down at himself. His suit was as wrinkly as a bulldog’s face.
If he had the energy, he’d sprint for his car and drive away, change into less wrinkled clothing, but odds were against him getting to the car before someone answered the door. Hell, he might just faint first.
After a minute or two, he rang the doorbell again. Then he frowned.
Shit. It was Thursday. Stefan had a job, unlike Dallas himself. Not that Dallas had a lot of details about Stefan’s business, but it stood to reason he wouldn’t be at home right now.
Fuck. Dallas leaned against the window with its protective iron curlicues and slid to the concrete. What was he supposed to do now? Go to a coffee shop and haunt it like a ghoul until evening? And what if Stefan was out of town or on vacation or something? He was so fucking stupid.
Dallas stared out at the bright afternoon. Florida was too fucking cheerful for his state of mind. His eyes started stinging, and he scrubbed at them with the back of his hands. He looked rough enough without adding red eyes to the mix; if he was going to haunt a café, he didn’t think a drugged-out meth head look would encourage anyone to let him loiter for the price of a cup of coffee.
Beside him, the door swung open, and a dark-haired man stuck his head out.
Dallas froze. Double shit. How had he fucked up enough to end up at the wrong house? Perhaps if he didn’t move, the guy would close the door and Dallas could escape this fresh humiliation with no one the wiser.
Someone from inside the house called out, “Who is it?”
“Don’t know, darling, but they left a fully packed piece-of-shit car in the driveway.”
Although his cheeks flamed in embarrassment, Dallas couldn’t bring himself to say anything. But he must have made a sound or something, because the guy glanced down and raised his eyebrows.
“Uh, hi.” Not the most stellar response Dallas could have given, but how exactly did one extricate oneself gracefully from a situation like this? If his mother had ever mentioned the appropriate etiquette, he hadn’t been paying attention.
“If you’re here for a job interview, this isn’t a good time. You really need to go to the office.” The man paused, giving him a more intense perusal. “And I’m not sure you’ll have enough stamina for this job, honey.”
Dallas’s cheeks got hotter; he knew he looked like hell. As for the other part of the man’s statement, well, it hardly mattered. The judgment in the guy’s tone gave him enough energy to get to his feet.
“Who is it?” The voice inside was closer, but muffled. “What job interview?”
Another man, wrestling a T-shirt over his head, stumbled across the threshold.
Dallas cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m going.”
The second man’s head cleared the neck of the shirt, and despite the sandy hair swirled into bedhead and freckled skin sporting serious beard burn, he was clearly recognizable.
“Stefan?” Dallas asked.
Stefan blinked. “Dallas? What are you doing here?”
Dallas opened his mouth, but there were no words to be found. One small hiccup broke the dam. Between the relief at having found the right place and the sheer hopelessness of his life, he lost control over the tears he’d been suppressing for hours.
“Oh, jeez.” Stefan just grabbed him and wrapped him in a tight hug, letting him cry soundlessly.
The other man retreated into the house, leaving them to whatever privacy could be had on the front porch of Stefan’s house in the middle of the day.
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