Fake Date Flip-Flop

A Williamsville Inn Story

Fake Date Flip-Flop cover

The first family wedding after a painful breakup. A milestone high school reunion. A hotel with a history of romantic meetings and happily ever afters.

While checking in at the Williamsville Inn, Nash and Tobias meet and feel an immediate spark of attraction. During an impromptu shared dinner, they commiserate about being single for their weekend events: the wedding of Nash’s niece, and Tobias’ thirtieth high school reunion.

When they hatch a plan to be each other’s fake date for the weekend, neither man realizes that while they’re pretending to be an item to satisfy nosey family and inquisitive friends, they just might end up falling in love for real.

This story is set at the Williamsville Inn and is part of the Williamsville Inn Series of gay romance stories.

Excerpt:

Who had a wedding on a Sunday in January?

"Cheaper," Nash muttered to himself as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He went through his suitcase, assessing and discarding shirts.

Maybe the blue chambray that brought out his eyes? “What the hell am I doing? It's not a fucking date."

Shaking his head at himself, he chose the navy cashmere V-neck pullover he'd brought for the rehearsal dinner and tugged it over his head. Any other shirt he'd brought could work for the dinner.

But it doesn't matter because it's not a fucking date.

“You’re treating it like one, though.”

He pulled on the pair of casual winter walking boots, grateful he’d packed them considering how much snow he'd have to deal with all weekend. And which, according to Tobias, was just the beginning. Why did people live in this region?

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When there was a knock at the door, Nash checked his watch. Thirty minutes right on the dot. That was a good sign.

Not that it means anything because you're not going on a date. It's dinner with a guy you just met.

And how is that not a date?

Nash grabbed his coat and pulled the door open, stopping and staring as Tobias stared right back.

Tobias wore a flannel shirt over a black T-shirt, both tucked into a pair of jeans that had to have been altered to accentuate his amazing ass. Nash couldn't seem to pull his eyes up from Tobias's ass, until he realized Tobias stood turned slightly sideways to show off his profile.

Cheeky bastard, showing off that delicious ass he probably spends three days a week working on at the gym.

"Wow." Tobias caught himself and tried to act more casual as he leaned in and said, "Is that cashmere?" He attempted to look like he was studying Nash's sweater but seemed instead to be ogling his pecs and the chest hair sticking up through the neckline.

"It is. Is that pure flannel?"

Tobias grinned and set off down the hall. Nash noted he really did have a fantastic ass. “One hundred percent, baby. I graduated in the 90's. It's all about the grunge."

Nash followed and pulled on his coat as he asked, "Is it really grunge flannel if you tuck it into your jeans?"

The grin widened into a bright smile, and Tobias nodded as he pressed the call button. "All right. You've got some sass and snark underneath that Gruff Daddy exterior. I like it."

"Gruff Daddy?"

Tobias gave him a look. "Oh, please. Don't even try to pretend like you've never heard that before."

Nash sighed. "Fine. I've heard it before."

"How often?"

"A lot."

"I'm sure you have." Tobias look him up and down, taking his time, and Nash’s stomach did a little somersault. It had been a long time since anyone had checked him out like that.

The elevator arrived, and Tobias stepped inside. Nash followed, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into.

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Murder Most Deserving

Murder Most Deserving Cover art
Part of the Lacetown Murder Mysteries series:

An acoustic music festival comes to Lacetown, and with it, another dead body—this one found at Fleishman’s Funeral Home. Michael recuses himself from the autopsy, handing the job over to his arch-nemesis from a neighboring county.

Luckily Michael and local hairstylist Jazz are closer than ever. Between a trio of funerals, a blowout BBQ, and a couple of trips on Beulah, Jazz’s beloved scooter, Michael and Jazz do some sleuthing of their own. With the first gruesome murder still fresh in their memories, they can’t help but wonder if notorious murderer and famous author Russell Withingham might be targeting them from jail, where he’s awaiting trial.

The festival, however, brings in a veritable lineup of potential killers, including a familiar—and most unwelcome—figure from their past. As the murderer circles ever closer to Jazz and Michael, Sheriff Musgrave is quick to remind them that everyone’s a suspect until Sheriff Musgrave says they’re not!

The Cupid Crawl

A Williamsville Inn Story

Book Cover: The Cupid Crawl

A hook-up app serial dater. A Valentine’s bar crawl. A day that will change their lives.

Carter Walsh will be alone on Valentine’s Day, and his plans include a candy sampler of hook-ups. But once he learns about the Cupid Crawl—a bar crawl covering a half dozen bars, both gay and straight—he decides on a change of plans.

At the first bar, Carter meets Harry, a divorced dad coming out later in life, and he’s far from impressed. Harry’s definitely not the type of guy Carter would ever swipe right for. But as the Cupid Crawl hops from bar to bar, the two seem to naturally gravitate toward each other, and before he realizes it, Carter’s succumbed to the magic of Valentine’s Day and ditched the hook-up app to spend all his time with Harry.

The Cupid Crawl is a funny, sweet, and steamy opposites attract, divorced bi-sexual dad, slight age gap story that takes place in the Williamsville Inn series world, and features characters from the Christmas stories Snowflakes and Song Lyrics by Hank Edwards and Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn.

Excerpt:

Vic, the organizer, led the way, squeezing past the men and women standing in the doorway and forging a path for Carter to follow. At first, Carter thought he was way overdressed. The men he slid past were shirtless, some wearing just white loin cloths or even cloth diapers along with feathered wings strapped around their broad chests. These men gave him a brief glance, maybe a quick smile, but were busy talking to each other or women who were also baring a lot of skin. Didn’t these people realize it was February in Boston?

When he reached the bar, Carter was relieved to see people wearing shirts and pants instead of just diapers and short shorts. Vic leaned in over the bar and said to the bartender, “Don, this is my good friend, Carter. Put his first two drinks on my tab.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Carter insisted. “I have money.”

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“Happy Valentine’s Day, Carter,” Vic said. “The first two drinks are on me to help you relax. I’m going to make a round of the bar, but when I return, I hope to find you talking with someone, and not just leaning on the bar all alone.”

“I know how to socialize,” Carter said.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Vic winked again before threading his way through the crowd, greeting people as he slid past them. Carter ordered a beer from Don, and then fished a couple of singles out of his wallet for a tip. He lifted his bottle to salute Don and had just taken a swig when a piercingly high voice shrieked from just behind him. The sound startled him so much he choked on his beer and started to cough. He turned, coughing and sputtering, and squinted through his tears at the woman standing behind him.

Auburn hair done up tall, bright green eyes that could be nothing other than colored contact lenses, a pert, upturned nose, and a broad mouth filled with teeth laser-whitened to solar flare level.

Carter’s heart stuttered with surprise and dread as he struggled to clear his airway.

“I saw you walk in and had to come over and see if it was really you!” she exclaimed.

With a final clearing of his throat, Carter managed a smile and said, “Lizzie. Hello! What a treat to see you.”

Lizzie’s smile widened even further and she crossed her arms. It was then Carter noticed she wore what looked like a sports bra with a pair of white wings strapped to her shoulders, and a sheer white shift around her waist that showed off a pair of black panties trimmed with lace.

“As I live and breathe,” Lizzie said with a shake of her head. “Carter the Farter.”

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Snowflakes and Song Lyrics

A Williamsville Inn Story

Cover image showing a singer wearing a hat and holding a guitar.
Part of the The Williamsville Inn series:

A hotel room with an overactive heater. A rising star struggling to write a Christmas song. Song lyrics written in secret.

Will Johnson is shocked to discover his hotel room window overlooks the courtyard patio of one of his favorite gay singers, Rex Garland. Even more amazing, Rex seems interested in Will too.

When Will overhears Rex struggling to write an original Christmas song, he is struck by a flash of inspiration and drafts an anonymous note with song lyrics. Will is sure nothing will come of it, but the Christmas magic swirling amidst all the snow in upstate New York is about to change both their lives forever.

This funny, sweet, and heart-warming love story about a boy-next-door and the celebrity of his dreams is set in the Williamsville Inn world.

Excerpt:

The Williamsville Inn had seen better days. Most likely sometime back in the 1960s. The early 1960s.

Will entered his room after a long first day on the job, and the heat nearly made him pass out in the entryway. It had to be ninety degrees! He desperately pulled off clothing as he searched for a thermostat, but by the time he was down to socks and his boxer briefs, he’d had no luck.

“So I’ve died and gone to Hell, and this is what I have to look forward to for eternity?” Will muttered.

The heating/air conditioning unit under the window—a long metal contraption with a number of vents set at an upward angle—made a thumping noise followed by a quiet hiss. Will sidestepped to the end of the bed and peered down at the thing. A stamp with the brand name Rest Easy was affixed to one corner, and warm air gusting out of the vents blew the sheer curtains away from the windowsill.

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Will approached the unit and discovered a small metal flap on a hinge at one end. Underneath was a small knob with a faded line painted on it. The knob was turned all the way over to COOL, and Will sighed. No more cool setting to try, apparently.

“So much for resting easy, I guess.”

He pulled the flimsy white curtains aside and inspected the window. Happiness filled him when he discovered the age of the hotel at last worked in his favor, and one side of the window was a slider he could open for some fresh air. The locking mechanism was old, however, and took some struggle before it finally released and allowed him to shove the window open with a squeal of the metal frames scraping together.

Will closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air. He released it slowly and opened his eyes to look down into the courtyard. His room was on the top floor of the three-story building, and the first-floor rooms across from his all had small patios outside a sliding door. Metal café tables and chairs were provided for each room, and all of it was covered in snow. A quartet of lights in the style of old streetlamps, complete with large round frosted glass shades, provided gentle illumination to the area.

Just as he was wondering if the first-floor rooms cost more because of the tiny patios, one of the sliding doors almost directly across from his window opened, and a man stepped out.

He was tall, with dark hair and a matching full beard. A flannel shirt covered a white tee that hugged his broad chest and flat stomach. The cuffs of tight black jeans had been tucked into black Doc Martens. Something about the man seemed familiar, and Will guessed he’d seen him around the hotel. Someone like that would have definitely caught Will’s eye.

But then the man turned to call to someone still inside the room, and the sound of his voice tripped recognition in Will’s brain.

Rex Garland.

Will sucked in a breath and stared down into the courtyard, watching Rex pace around the cafe table, leaving a path in the snow. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, and he seemed to be muttering to himself.

A burning in his chest reminded Will to let out his breath and pull another one in.

Rex Garland was staying at his hotel. Would he be here for the entire run of his appearances at the Side-Eye? Will’s heart pounded, and a fresh sheen of sweat covered his body. Even the bottoms of his feet were damp!

A man joined Rex out on the patio, and the two of them spoke in low tones. Will watched, lips slightly parted as he absently rubbed a hand through the fine hair covering his chest. He couldn’t make out any words of their conversation until Rex threw his hands in the air and said, “I know I need to get it done, okay? Back the fuck off.”

The other man held his hands up in a sign of surrender and went back inside the room.

Rex’s paces around the small café table picked up speed, and Will could hear him talking to himself. He hated to see his favorite singer in such a state.

Suddenly, Rex stopped and stared across the courtyard. Will pressed his forehead to the glass in an effort to see straight down, but he wasn’t able to. When he looked back, he discovered Rex looking right up at his window. Realizing he must look pretty fucking creepy standing in front of his window in his underwear, Will dropped to the floor and lay there for a moment listening to the heating unit rattle and hiss.

Shit. Now what?

Will rolled onto his belly and did an Army crawl away from the window until he’d reached the far side of the bed. He got up and hurried into the bathroom where he sat on the lid of the toilet with his head in his hands.

Rex Garland was staying at his hotel.

Rex Garland was having a hard time with something and had shouted at one of his team.

Rex Garland had more than likely seen Will standing in his boxer briefs at the window and watching him.

His best friend Carter was going to love this story.

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Love and the Floppy Musketeer Hat

Romance can blossom in any genre: contemporary, suspense, fantasy, or paranormal. Hank Edwards has dusted off eleven of his favorite Story Orgy tales and gathered them into a brand new collection. For those new to Hank's work, the Story Orgy was a group of authors who crafted stories based on writing prompts. Some of Hank's stories from that time period are already available, such as With This Ring, Mistletoe at Midnight, or Cross Country Foreplay. The stories in this collection have only appeared once on Hank's blog, so if you've been following his work for a while, hopefully you'll enjoy revisiting these freshly edited gems. But if you weren't a Story Orgy follower, kick back and read about love showing up in a wide variety of places.

Excerpt:

From the story Pressure:

A fine autumn sunrise greeted me, and I cracked the kitchen window to let in the crisp air. I set up the coffeepot and then glanced at the wall calendar to see what I had planned for the day. My smile came from nowhere, surprising as it arrived before any caffeine. Written on the day's square was this lovely note: Winslow's Sprinklers.

I had used the same sprinkler service for the last five years, and every year I looked forward to one visit. It wasn't the young, cocky kid who came out to set up the sprinkler system and inspect the heads and make sure everything was aimed right. He was cute, but he wasn't my type. Too young, too brash, just home from college and eager to show off his "guns" and start on his summer tan. Oh, he was fine to look at, and I’d probably giggle like a schoolgirl if he ever gave me a second glance, but I wasn’t into the young hotshots of spring and summer.

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I liked the autumn visit the most. Hal Winslow himself would come to blow the water out of the lines. All the young guys he employed for the summer would have fled our area for college once again, leaving him to close up shop with his customers.

And Hal Winslow was a fine, furry hunk of man beef, just the way I liked 'em.

He was at least six foot four, usually sporting two or three days of red-gold whiskers on his square jaw. Clad in a blue flannel barn coat, faded jeans, and scuffed work boots, he would stomp through the yard, all business, his bright blue eyes noting every nicked mower and misaligned sprinkler head.

And for forty five minutes every autumn, he was all mine.

I showered and dressed butch-casual, hoping to attract Hal's attention. The year before we had talked about how badly the Emerald Ash borer was decimating the trees in our area, Hal looking at the barren branches stretching toward the sky. Then there had been a moment, a quick, quiet pause in the conversation in which our eyes had locked. A flutter had started low in my belly, and I had just opened my mouth to invite him inside for a cup of coffee when his cell phone had rung with an emergency call.

Dammit.

This year, I was determined not to miss my opportunity. I was going to invite Hal in for coffee before we started talking. And maybe I'd offer to blow out his line.

COLLAPSE

The Cheapskate

A Story Orgy Single

On a rainy night in New York City, Bryce meets up with a group of friends for dinner and is introduced to Colin. Sparks ignite between them and soon the two are dating. But Bryce quickly discovers that what he had at first thought of as responsible frugality on Colin's part is, in actuality, just Colin being a cheapskate. Bryce tries to overlook the reused water bottles, Colin's failure to pick up a check, and his penchant for Dumpster diving, hoping for a shot at true love. But before too long it becomes clear that Colin can't seem to grasp the fact that he only pays for what he has to. Bryce confronts Colin and puts his heart, and their relationship, on the line, hoping that, in the end, they can find a happy medium and continue to see each other. But it's going to take a lot of effort on both of their parts to get his bad boyfriend to change his ways.

Cross Country Foreplay

A Story Orgy Single

Sparks fly when Preston, seasoned technical lead, and Brady, a young software coder, head out on a cross country corporate road trip. After a flash flood pushes their professional relationship into personal territory, the revelation of an unfortunate office nick name threatens to tear them apart.

Hotel Dick

A Salacious Single

Harry works as a hotel detective -- a hotel dick -- at The Bradford. During one late night shift, he is called on to quiet down a suite rented by Jester Maddox, a well-known rock star. Jester Maddox is nothing like Harry expected, and even through his hangover, he can see that Jester likes what he sees in Harry. Can this hotel dick and hairy chested rock star come to some terms of agreement to keep the peace?

Exchange Rate

A Salacious Single

Bill treats himself to a trip to Ireland in an attempt to get over his cheating ex-boyfriend. When he meets Sean at the exchange rate window, something clicks between them. Can this butch Irish lad be the very thing Bill needs to help him move on?

Double Down

A Salacious Single

After a winning streak at a casino blackjack table, Rick gets lucky in a posh hotel suite with his new friend, Steve, and their card dealer, Doug, who brings a whole new meaning to the term "double down."