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Cover art by Natalia Martinez, missn.a.martinez@gmail.com

Gym Dandy, novel-length gay romance coming November 2008 from MLR Press.

Mixed signals or glitchy gaydar? After a first kiss gone horribly wrong, out and outgoing personal trainer Victor Brighton settles for friendship with handsome new client Douglas Newkirk. But is Doug in denial? Each time the boys get close, something or someone interferes: ex-wives, ex-boyfriends, bitchy bosses, even the cable guy. There's a surprise twist you'll never see coming! The story concludes with declarations of love, bad puns, and the big bang that's well worth waiting for.

Gym Dandy is a romance novel about two thirty-something men falling in love despite external and internal conflicts. It's When Harry Met Sally, only this time, it's Victor meets Douglas, they fall in love and live happily ever after… but not before a novel's worth of troubles! It's funny, and angsty, touching on subjects both serious and humorous.

Gym Dandy is entertaining and a little erotic, featuring clever plot twists, endearing characters, and a happy ending. There’s even a dog!

EXCERPT

The Setup: Victor takes Doug to old-friend Maurice's 40th birthday party where they run into Victor's ex-wife Yolanda. The usually-sober Doug gets drunk and misbehaves. Victor takes him home.

Victor grabbed Doug’s hand and dragged him toward the exit.

Knowing the area well, Victor hauled Doug down a narrow alley that would bring them swiftly to the lot where they’d left the car. Victor was still sober enough to drive, having had fewer than two drinks, cumulatively. Doug, however, decided he liked this alleyway just fine and flipped himself back against the wall, using surprise and momentum to pull Victor towards him—into his arms, against his body, between his wide-spread legs.

“Don’t you want this?’ He murmured into Victor’s gel-crunchy hairline. “Don’t you want me?” 

Any protest died on Victor’s lips when he felt Doug rub against him, a smooth slide that ran the length of his dick and brought it to hardness quick enough to make his head spin. And he had had nearly two drinks.

Caution be damned. “Oh, yeah! Doug. Baby.” Ardent nonsense words escaped him, despite his resolve. After all, Doug had started this, hadn’t he? He grabbed Doug’s hips and mirrored the motion against Doug’s hard cock. Doug hissed between clenched teeth and threw his head back, smacking it lightly on the brick wall behind him. “Yes,” he hissed again, reassuring Victor before he could worry about the wall.

“Want you. Want you. Always wanted you.” Victor’s words spilled out, reassuring Doug and himself. He ground himself against his friend again.

Doug jabbed his hips into Victors, all staccato out-of-control: not sophisticated and sensual, but dirty and sexy and inexperienced enough to be an incredible turn-on.

“Ohhhh,” Doug moaned.

“Ohhhh,” Doug moaned again, but this one didn’t sound quite right to Victor. He pulled back, forcing himself to sober up as much as he could, stoned less on punch than on his own body chemistry: adrenaline, hormones, endorphins.

“Ohhhh, God. Going to be sick. Victor. Victor!” Doug started to lurch sideways down the wall. Victor grabbed him and bent him over so he’d miss their shoes--mostly.

Afterward, Doug sat shaking in the passenger seat, insisting he be dropped home rather than at Victor’s apartment as suggested. He clearly asked Victor to leave after he’d helped the no-longer-quite-so-drunk man to bed. Jack lay flat on the mat beside the bed, whining a little in sympathy as Doug moaned softly and complained about whirling rooms.

“Got the spins, huh, Doug? Welcome to the exciting world of alcohol. Any wonder why it’s so popular?” Victor moved the wastebasket close to the bed, putting two Aspirin, two Dramamine and two glasses of water on the nightstand.

“Not now. This is hardly the time for a lecture,” Doug groaned.

“Sorry,” Victor said, but he really didn’t mean it. He felt more than a little under-appreciated at the moment. None of this was his fault, after all. It wasn’t exactly flattering to have a guy kiss you, puke on you, and bitch you out all in the space of an hour. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone.”

“That’s just silly, Victor,” Doug snapped, the effect ruined by the slightly slurred speech. “Now, please. Nobody ever died of a hangover. Well, unless there was alcohol poisoning involved, but we don’t need to go into that right--”

Victor shoved the pills into Doug’s mouth, followed by a short swallow of water to wash them down.

Doug choked a little, grabbed the water and drank the rest of it. “Thank you, but I’d really just like to be left alone now.” In response to the whining coming from the side of the bed, Doug added, “No, you can stay, but I’ll have no lectures from you either.”

Jack quieted and returned nose to paws.

Victor hovered a bit longer, then, not entirely sure he was doing the right thing, finally let himself out of Doug’s tiny apartment. He didn’t feel so great himself, having been given the old one-two sucker-punch to the gut tonight, first by Yolanda, then by Doug. God, he couldn’t win for losing. He’d been thinking of getting a tattoo, what with them being so popular nowadays and all. Maybe something in a nice, Celtic “L”, centered on his forehead.

Shit. He’d have to call Maurice tomorrow and apologize. He headed home, where he almost gave in to the temptation to pull something hard and wet out of the liquor cabinet and get drunk himself. But years of experience with failed romance--Yolanda, Yolanda and Yolanda--had taught him that alcohol only made things worse. He washed the cigarette-scented gel out of his hair and climbed into bed. Sleep was a long time coming--even after he had, twice, with sad thoughts of lovers lost to keep him company on that lonely journey.

 The story continues...