Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | One Night at Finn's (Finn's Pub Romance #1) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | R.G. Alexander |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B075ZHQ8Z3 |
| Book Information: | |
**A standalone romance from the Finn Factor World of New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author R.G. Alexander.** Ever been on a bad date? Hold my beer… My dry spell isn’t voluntary. It just happened. Or didn’t happen. And then... it didn’t happen some more. I’m not saying I’m looking for perfection, but is hot, sweaty sex with a genuinely decent guy too much to ask? When I meet the much older and newly retired Master Sergeant Carter Willis, he definitely fits my criteria. But after he rescues me from the worst of my dating mistakes, I can’t tell if he’s watching my back to protect it, or because he likes what he sees. Giving romance tips to strangers is easy. This feeling I get when Carter is around is making life complicated. It feels like a thing. A forever type thing. And if there’s one thing that scares me more than my accidental abstinence becoming a permanent condition… It’s trusting in forever. | |
| Books in Series: | Finn's Pub Romance Series by R.G. Alexander |
| Books by Author: | R.G. Alexander Books |
Chapter One
The Dry Spell Diaries
by JD Green
Dear Diary,
Confession time.
When I first agreed to publically document the arid Sahara that is my sex life, I had a few reservations. A few reservations, a few manly panic attacks, a few dozen arguments with my editor… But despite initial concerns, I promised to climb out of my hermit’s cave and go on a date or two, sharing the details in this diary for your amusement and edification.
I freely admit I was hoping to get something out of it in return. Based on the title, I think everyone knew what I wanted that something to be.
It rhymes with trucking.
I never imagined I would still be in this dry spell six months in. All men love trucking, right? Even more unbelievable is the fact that I’m starting to seriously think about giving up my search in favor of commitment instead.
That’s right. I used the C word. Not one of my old favorites like cock, copulation, concupiscent or cum. Commitment.
I’ve never been against it, but it wasn’t what these diaries were supposed to be about. Yet, here we are. I think I’m finally ready to start a long-term, monogamous relationship.
I might even be in love.
Sure, it’s with an Irish pub…but the heart wants what the heart wants.
*pauses respectfully for the incoming deluge of side eye*
It’s not exactly a lie. Hot men and cold beer make Green a happy boy. And Finn’s Pub has both in spades.
Longtime readers know about my macro obsession with microbrews and the man candy attached to this place via blood and marriage. Add a friendly LGBT atmosphere and some great local music? If this pub were a man I’d already be picking out cock rings.
With so much going for it, Finn’s should at least be—if not my inanimate soul mate—my perfect destination for romance. And by romance I mean mutual attraction that inevitably leads to… We’re all adults here, right? Can I stop saying trucking now?
Too bad that’s not in the cards tonight. At least, not with the guy I’m loosely calling my date.
The drought continues.
Nothing to see here but stilted conversation mixed with excruciating silences. I’m writing this during one of the many lulls so you can appreciate how bad it is in real time.
I can take a lot, but I’m not sure I’ll make it through this night without crying Uncle. Think I’m exaggerating? In the last hour, I’ve been considering worse forms of torture to make myself feel better.
I’ve gone through everything from having my balls slowly nibbled off by schools of carnivorous goldfish, to being trapped on a twelve-hour flight beside some nose-picking troglodyte underlining his fifth copy of (Blah) Racist Political Assertion (Blah) to pass the time.
Good book title. If it’s not already taken, I’ll write it in my spare time. All the spare time I won’t be spending having sex. Ever again.
Three strikes, T. You’re a dear friend and there’s nothing I love more than watching that Australian drama about women in prison with you snuggled up on Mr. Lumpy. (My couch, you perverts.) But sadly, you know nothing about what stirs this gay man’s soul.
Want to hazard a guess as to which soul I’m referring to? Yep. The one in my pants.
Which brings me back to the guy who will never get in my pants. I won’t name names, but his mullet wants me to call him Billy Ray. He is the last straw on the giant haystack in the barn of my matchmaking failures.
I went too far with that metaphor.
I’m done being set up. It never ends well. Sometimes it never ends at all. Seriously, has it only been three hours? If this night goes on much longer it might throw me into voluntary celibacy for the next seven years. In Tibet.
And now I’m thinking about Brad Pitt. You know, because he was in that movie Seven Years in…never mind.
Am I a magnet for the creepers of the world? Do you people look at me and think, “I’ve got a cousin who still lives with his mother and hasn’t clipped his toenails in five years because he wants to be Wolverine. Oh and he’s gay, so I bet he and Green would hit it off.”
It takes more than dick to make that my type.
That word might be the crux of my problem. Maybe no one can find me a match because I don’t think I’m an actual type myself. Unless None and/or All of the Above is an option.
I don’t know why it’s such a difficult question for me to answer. But because it is, I’ve decided to put it to you. If you had to choose, what type do you think I am?
Call it a challenge. I’ll share some stats and you can tell me what you think. Unless you believe—as I secretly do on days like today—that types are a fallacy concocted by the same charlatans who sold us Valentine’s Day and pheromone cologne? You’ll give it a shot. Think of it as contributing to a worthy cause.