Touched by tragedy, love is an elusive dream never to be realised by eighteen-year-old Jax Grady–until he discovers his secret admirer and receives the sweetest gift he could ever desire.
THE SWEETEST GIFT
Tragedy and horror shaped Jackson Grady’s life, leaving him orphaned and scarred. At eighteen he’s ready to claim his future, but who could love his disfigured face and damaged soul? Definitely not a big, burly, beautiful Irish Traveller who is entirely the stuff of dreams.
Dare Rowan didn’t mean to become obsessed with the blue-eyed man he first saw across a field, but that porcelain skin and innocent air demanded another meeting. Jax has the face of a wounded angel, and the rest of the young man is as heart-breakingly perfect. Jax is beautiful in every way and teaching him about love and life will be something Dare will embrace. Like unwrapping and savouring the candy at the shop where he works, Dare will show this young man everything Jax desired but never thought he’d have, and take Jax to new highs while he holds him through the lows. Between them, they’ll find out just how sweet life can be.
Jax joins us today with a fabulous list of things he’ll never do again. His list consists of a few things I hope to never do either. Read and enjoy!
Ha, okay. I can do this. Hi everyone, my name is Jax and I’m nineteen. I’ve been asked to tell you about some of the things I’ll never do again. So is this, like, an adult post? *waits* Oh, okay, good ‘cos one of the things might be a little too raunchy to share if there’s younger people about. *winks*
Right, well let me tell the first thing I won’t be doing again. My boyfriend Dare is a damn tease and he loves to play tricks on me. So, he works in this sweet shop and they sell the most disgusting things there. One of them are these jelly sweets called Sucky Sour Sizzlers. He told me he wanted to feed me a sweet, some sort of candy and I believed him. He asked me to close my eyes then stuffed one in my mouth. (I’d rather he’d stuffed something else in there but we can’t always get what we want, ha-ha)
I nearly hit the roof. The stuff was so sour, it made my eyes water and my mouth shrink. I swear, I’ve never tasted anything so vile. Dare thought it was very funny. Needless to say, he won’t catch me out like that again.
Another time we were having sex in this old gypsy caravan. The first time it was good, I loved it and we managed not to fall off the bunk. The second time though, we got a little over amorous and we both landed on the floor. I went down cock first and it was painful…you can only imagine being pretty aroused then landing on the flagpole. It was a real ouch moment. So no more sex on bunk beds like that. Not without a mattress on the floor anyway.
Lastly, ever fallen off a damn horse? I have and it wasn’t pretty. As you know I don’t see all that well, and sitting high up on a great beast of a gypsy cob when it decided to do a bit of galloping wasn’t one of my favourite moments. I held onto for dear life until Dare rode up and saved me. Yep, my boyfriend is like that. He’s the best. Anyway I kind of fell off as he stopped the horse from bolting further. I had a few grazes and a sore elbow but otherwise I was fine. I won’t be getting on a horse anytime soon. Not unless it’s at the fairground and tied to a carousel. 🙂
So, what kind of things would you not do again?
He wasn’t stalking his fantasy. He wasn’t.
Dare clamped his lips together mutinously as he hunkered down behind a towering oak. The tree lay on the outskirts, in the garden of a large Georgian house. From a distance, Dare watched as the beautiful blond man he’d been observing, thank you very much, tenderly placed what looked like flower bulbs in the rich soil. The man—whom Dare had first called Angel, though he now knew his name was Jax thanks to the younger kids playing in the garden yelling to him—leaned over. His pert jean-encased backside pushed out into the air and Dare swallowed, mesmerised by the enticing sight. A pang of guilt washed over his skin at the sneaking knowledge that yes, he could actually be deemed a stalker.
“I’ve only watched him a few times,” Dare murmured under his breath. “It’s not like I’m some pervert checking through the windows. I mean, the guy is in plain sight and there’s no boundary fence, so why shouldn’t I look? Anyone would. God, he’s gorgeous. A flawed angel with those blond curls and blue eyes.”
His wistful voice echoed in the quiet of the forest surrounding the large house called Castaways. It was some sort of place for homeless kids, Dare thought. He’d found this vantage point by accident one day when he’d been out gathering bits of greenery for his boss, Sally, an eccentric seventy-year-old woman who owned the sweet shop he’d managed for the past three years.
Some weeks ago, Sally had decided she wanted to display certain wildflowers in their place of work. She was also heavily into aromatherapy at the moment, so she sent Dare out each week to pick new blossoms and plants to further her ambitions to be a “flower child,” as Dare teasingly called it. He hadn’t minded. It had become a pleasant routine to take the short tube ride to Camden to perform what Sally loftily called his “ecological duties.” This secluded part of the woods around the area was the best place she knew of to find the flowers. Dare had caught sight of the beautiful man in the garden tending to a bunch of what looked like unruly kids, and now, having seen his Angel, Sally could send him out every day and Dare wouldn’t mind.
“But that would make me a stalker,” he said to himself. “So I’m not one now—yet.” He huffed and ducked back behind a bush as Jax turned to stare fixedly in his direction from underneath his wide-brimmed straw hat, an item Dare found rather endearing.
Susan Mac Nicol is a self- confessed bookaholic, an avid watcher of videos of sexy pole dancing men, geek, nerd and in love with her Smartphone. This little treasure is called ‘the boyfriend’ by her long suffering husband, who says if it vibrated, there’d be no need for him. Susan hasn’t had the heart to tell him there’s an app for that…
She is never happier than when sitting in the confines of her living room/study/on a cold station platform scribbling down words and making two men fall in love. She is a romantic at heart and believes that everything happens (for the most part) for a reason. She likes to think of herself as a ‘half full’ kinda gal, although sometimes that philosophy is sorely tested.
Lover of walks in the forest, theatre productions, dabbling her toes in the cold North Sea and the vibrant city of London where you can experience all four seasons in a day , she is a hater of pantomime (so please don’t tar and feather her), duplicitous people, bigotry and self-righteous idiots.
In an ideal world, Susan Mac Nicol would be Queen of England and banish all the bad people to the Never Never Lands of Wherever -Who Cares. As that’s never going to happen, she contents herself with writing her HEA stories and pretending, that just for a little while, good things happen to good people.
Sue is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association in the UK.
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