Despite a life-threatening injury sustained in a vaulting accident, top gymnast Christopher Allen is determined to get back to his former perfect condition and compete again. Brian Rainings is a coach in need of someone to believe in, and he takes Chris on, admiring the spirit and determination that drives Chris to succeed. And admiring the sturdy, muscled body Chris maintains.Admiration soon leads to something much hotter as they train together. From their scorching first kiss, Brian and Chris’s chemistry is obvious, but they have a long road ahead to get Chris back into shape. Months of hard work lead to success, with Chris gaining strength every day and finally finding the elusive sponsor he needs for financial support. Secrets, hidden dangers, and family troubles plague them, though, and they have to face the fact that Chris might never compete again and score that perfect ten.
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Cat gives this one 3 meows with a 4 purr heat index...
Chris was a big name in gymnastics until was injured. Now after back and shoulder surgery he is determined to get back in the game. His coaches and sponsors have dumped him. Brian was into gymnastics, blew his knee out in Tennis and is coaching at a private girls school. He is hoping Chris will take him as a coach and they can make a name together. But Chris isn't divulging one big bit of information.
This story had loads of potential. I liked both Chris and Brian. I loved Chris'determination and strength. I just wish the story had delved into more than Chris injury. It felt like the story had just got good and came to a halt. I would have loved to seen Chris at an actual event not just preparing. Having said that, the story is good. It is a story of courage and strength and love. If you like sports romance, gymnastics, and some hot man-sex you will like this.
Excerpt...
Chapter One
BRIAN STOPPED in front of the diner and looked at the door for a moment.
It was one of those silver-bullet, old-style diners, the chrome dull with age, the windows shining clean and bright. Kind of a strange place for a job interview, but that’s essentially what this was.
He’d heard through the grapevine that Christopher Allen was trying to make a comeback after his vault accident, despite the fact that his coach and corporate sponsorship had bailed on him. He’d also heard it was a long shot, that the guy was lucky he wasn’t in a wheelchair, let alone even thinking about competing again. Scuttlebutt said Christopher was too old to start over, too injured, too past it.
And too stubborn to admit it.
Brian liked that in an athlete.
So he’d called and asked for a meeting. He hadn’t told Christopher he’d have to fly in just for this meeting. He’d kept it casual—let’s have lunch at that little place on the corner of Smith and Fifth.
This could change Brian’s whole life. Not that he didn’t like coaching the girls at the private school where he was working, but he missed men’s gymnastics, missed being involved, the feeling of the powder on his hands, the shaking in his muscles as he pushed himself past the point of his endurance….
His own glory days, such as they were, were over, but he had a chance to coach someone else into that sweet place where hard work and achievement met.
He had to convince Christopher Allen that he was the man for the job.
Brian took a breath and went in, the sounds of the street replaced by the sounds of people talking, china and silverware clinking, and the smell of grease filling his nose.
He scanned the booths, looking for Christopher.
It took him a second to find the guy, the signature blond hair dull and overgrown where it was bent over a menu, the square jaw hidden by a scrappy beard. The man had lost some weight, some form, but Brian could see the musculature still evident through the tight T-shirt.
Brian made his way over slowly, that feeling coming over him, the one that said this was a moment he wanted to remember, one he wanted to be sure to live in.
He stopped at Christopher’s booth and cleared his throat. “Christopher Allen? Hi, I’m Brian Rainings.”
“Hey there. Call me Chris.” Chris stood, unfolding himself from the booth, the motion a little awkward, a little stiff. “Nice to meet you. How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks. What about you? How’re you doing?”
“Doing good. Doing real good.” One square hand was offered over. “Have a seat, man.”
Brian shook Chris’s hand. Chris had a good grip, warm and firm, not overbearing. “Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to see me.”
Chris might have been on the injured list and abandoned by his people, but the buzz around him had been incredible before the accident, and Brian figured he couldn’t be the only one who wanted this job.
“Sure. You and I competed together once, a long time ago. Back when I was a junior and you were on top.”
“Yeah, I do remember. The buzz in the locker room was all about this blond kid who was going to smoke everyone in a few years.” The vinyl seats were surprisingly soft, like they’d been well taken care of.
“Yeah. Talk’s probably still the same, just for another kid.” It was a little unnerving looking at Chris. One eye was a bright blue, the other a deep, dark green.
“It always is. Everyone wants to discover the next big thing. Of course, I might be sitting right in front of him.” Brian grinned, knowing he was laying it on thick.
Chris chuckled, eyes dancing. “You do know I had back surgery, yeah?”
“Oh, you’re that Christopher Allen.” Brian winked and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I also know you’re looking to come back.”
“Looking to, yeah. I’ve been working on the trampoline, stretches, getting up to speed. I want to be ready.”
“Sounds good. You tried any of the equipment yet? The vault?”
“The rings. The bar. No landings yet.”
“How’s it feel?” He still worked out using some old routines himself—it was a hard thing to give up, pushing your body to its limits and beyond like that, feeling high and free.
“Stiff. I’m loving the tramp work. I can’t do much else—nowhere wants a guy without a coaching staff doing much training.”
He nodded. “Yeah, they don’t want the responsibility. So you still need a coach, then?”
“Yeah, Harry and Jeff moved on. They got Les Martin and both Evvie and Jean Parsons. Three for the price of one, you know?”
“Sounds like a good deal. For them. Kind of left you in the lurch, though, yeah?”
Man, that was a practiced shrug. “It’s a business. I’m not a sure thing.”
“Neither are they. What if there’s another accident? Harry and Jeff going to move on again?” Brian held up his hands. “Sorry, loyalty’s a dying art, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. You want a burger? Chili dog?”
“Chili dog. With fries. And I hope they’re greasy.” And a milkshake. Brian loved diner food. “What about you? Burger? Chili dog? Coach Rainings?”
Those eyes caught his, curious, questioning. “You haven’t even seen what I can do yet.”
“No, but I know what your heart is. You had every reason in the world to give up—between the surgery and losing all your support—but you didn’t. You’re still out there working, getting ready. I know I’m not a big-name coach, and I haven’t proved myself yet. I’m sure you’ve had a number of offers, but I promise you, I will meet you heart to heart, and I won’t let you down.”
Chris nodded, stopped as the waitress came up. “I want a cup of black coffee, two beef patties with cheese, and a salad.”
“Chili cheese dog, fries, and a chocolate milkshake, please.”
“Mmm. Chocolate.” Chris chuckled, winked. “Where do you like to work?”
“Well, frankly, I’d prefer somewhere small, quiet. You don’t need the pressure of a high-profile gymnasium with big names. There’ll be pressure enough without that.”
“Yeah. I’d prefer to fall on my ass in private the first few zillion times.”
“There’s a facility in Monterey. I know the guy who owns it. It’s a beautiful town, weather’s nice, and it’s off the beaten path as far as gymnastics goes, but it’s still close enough to a lot of the big meets.”
“Monterey? Like California? Man, I don’t have any sponsors. I can’t afford an apartment out there.”
“Well, all it takes is one. Have you made any calls?” Brian started sorting names through his mind. Mars used to sponsor him; he bet if he gave Bob Silmon a call, he could work something out—they were good people.
“No. No. I…. Well, I sort of hoped that Harry and Jeff would….” Christopher stopped, blushed. “No, not yet.”
The waitress came with their drinks, and Brian said, “Thank you,” waiting until she’d gone again before answering. “They aren’t going to, though, are they? But I’m here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not caught in the past, man. I’m not.”
A prolific author, Sean Michael takes notes dictated by the men who live in his head and shares their stories. Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to Chicago. A long-time writer of complicated haiku, Sean is currently attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate-spinning and soap-carving sex toys. Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark. To learn more about Sean, please visit: www.seanmichaelwrites.com.
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love the excerpt and cant wait to read
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Thanks for the review & excerpt!
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