Author Name: Annabeth Albert
Book Name: Delivered Fast
Series: Portland Heat
Book: Three
Standalone: Yes! Each book is connected
by the city, and are all standalone
Publisher: Kensington/Lyrical
Cover
Artist: Fiona Jayde
Release
Date: May 26, 2015
Blurb:
Portland,
Oregon, aka Hotlandia, where the coffee shops, restaurants, and bakeries are
ready to serve everything piping hot, fresh, and ready to go—like the
hard-working, hard-bodied men behind the counters—with no reservations…
Sure, Chris O’Neal has problems. His restaurant is still co-owned by his ex. His flannel-and-tattoos style is making him accidentally trendy. He can’t remember the last time he went out and had fun. But he’s not lonely, he’s driven. And the hot bakery delivery boy is not his problem, no matter how sweet his buns.
Chris is old enough to know Lance Degrassi’s sculpted good looks and clever double entendres spell nothing but trouble. Lance is still in college—he should be hitting the clubs and the books, chasing guys his own age, not pursuing some gruff motorcycle-riding workaholic. Especially when he’ll be leaving for grad school in a few months. But Lance keeps hanging around, lending a hand, charming Chris to distraction. Maybe some steaming hot no-strings indulgence won’t hurt.
Then again, maybe it will…
Sure, Chris O’Neal has problems. His restaurant is still co-owned by his ex. His flannel-and-tattoos style is making him accidentally trendy. He can’t remember the last time he went out and had fun. But he’s not lonely, he’s driven. And the hot bakery delivery boy is not his problem, no matter how sweet his buns.
Chris is old enough to know Lance Degrassi’s sculpted good looks and clever double entendres spell nothing but trouble. Lance is still in college—he should be hitting the clubs and the books, chasing guys his own age, not pursuing some gruff motorcycle-riding workaholic. Especially when he’ll be leaving for grad school in a few months. But Lance keeps hanging around, lending a hand, charming Chris to distraction. Maybe some steaming hot no-strings indulgence won’t hurt.
Then again, maybe it will…
Pages or Words: 45,000 words
Categories: Contemporary, Erotica,
Fiction, Gay fiction, M/M Romance, Romance
Excerpt:
From Chapter One
of Delivered Fast
The delivery boy
had sweet buns. Not to mention prize-winning
rolls. He wore a pair of those fancy over-the-ear headphones and
shimmied around the white bakery truck, his hips and ass working in time to
what was apparently a killer beat. Even the way he climbed into the back of the
truck was a choreographed dance. I wasn’t usually one to get distracted by eye
candy, but that ass . . .
I’d propped open
the service door at the rear of my coffee shop about fifteen minutes earlier,
hoping to coax a cool breeze into the stuffy storeroom where I’d been working.
I leaned against the door frame, appreciating the unexpectedly fine view in the
alley.
When the guy
emerged from the truck—headphones around his neck, carrying a stack of pink
boxes—I pushed away from the door and met him at the edge of the concrete
steps. I tried to play it cool, like I hadn’t spent the last five minutes
perving on his world-class bubble butt.
“You’re not
Vic,” I said as I ushered him into the hallway that led back to the kitchen and
storeroom.
“Nope. I’m
Lance, Vic’s cousin. I’ll be handling your deliveries from here on out.” His
smile—a wide, toothy grin—was almost as adorable as his butt. The only
resemblance he had to my usual beefy delivery guy was in the chiseled facial
features and light olive skin. He looked like he’d be right at home playing
World Cup soccer for Italy with his wide shoulders, lean torso, muscular thighs
and legs. And that ass.
Which I was
going to stop thinking about right the hell now. He was too young—I could see
that even more clearly under the fluorescent lights of my kitchen. Early
twenties, if that. His gelled-up black hair fell across his forehead in
artfully bleached strands. Too high maintenance for my taste.
“I’m Chris
O’Neal. Here, let me help you with those.” Taking part of the stack from him, I
showed him the metal racks where I stashed recent deliveries.
“Nice setup
you’ve got here.” Lance looked around the cramped but efficient kitchen area.
“Thanks.” Most
of The People’s Cup square footage was devoted to the coffee bar and seating
area in the front, so I made do in the back with my organization system, which
bordered on the obsessive. I’d installed floor-to-ceiling shelving on every
wall, including over the cooktop and counters. The center prep table was where
most of the action happened, and its broad expanse was covered with the
beginnings of several dishes for tomorrow’s Sunday brunch.
“I’ve been here
before with friends from PSU—for your Sunday thing. And during the week once or
twice to study.”
I made a
noncommittal noise. Great. A college
kid. As if I needed to feel like more of an old, cranky perv.
“Let’s get the
rest of the boxes.” I herded him back out to the alley. I was eager to get him
and his distracting ass on his way. I had several more hours of staging work
ahead of me to prepare for Sunday’s buffet. During the week we were just
another coffeehouse, but we were known all over Portland for our Sunday brunch.
“So are you the
owner? This all yours?” Lance asked as he got another load of boxes from the
truck.
“Yeah. Mine and
my partner’s. Business partner.” I fumbled the stack of boxes he handed me. Why
had it felt so necessary to make that qualification? Like the kid would be in
any way interested in my messed-up business relationship with my stubborn
bastard of an ex.
Despite his
pretty-boy looks, the kid was probably straight; he had a confident swagger
girls his age likely found irresistible.
“I’ve been to
your other place, too—the one in Northwest. Did the delivery there earlier. I
like this location better.”
“Me too,” I
said, my voice drier than gin. “Randy give you any issues?”
Randy had his
location; I had mine. Our relationship had turned into something out of a bad
chick flick, except there wasn’t any cute ending coming.
“Randy? Nah. It
was some girl named Becky, with a nose ring and huge gauges.”
I nodded. That
sounded about right for Randy’s taste. And I was not going to care whether he was banging her or how long she’d last
as an employee. His shitty employee turnover wasn’t my problem. I’d washed my
hands of what happened at the 23rd Street store.
“You want a cup
of coffee for the road?” I asked before I could stop myself. It was the same
courtesy I’d always extended to his cousin and to most of our other delivery
people, but somehow my offer felt tinged with more than politeness.
“What do you
have on offer today?” His grin was more than a little wicked.
Wouldn’t you like to know? I bit back the
flirtatious retort. And what the hell was up with that? I did not flirt. Hell, anything other than
bitter and grumpy hadn’t been my MO for months now.
*****
Can Lance bring
out the softer side of this cranky chef? Find out in DELIVERED FAST!
Sales Links:
About the
author:
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking
romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance
out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper
shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and
funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves
finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights
supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a
rewarding day job and wrangles two toddlers.
Represented by Saritza Hernandez of the Corvisiero Literary Agency
Where to find the author:
Facebook
Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/annabethalbertauthor
Tour
Dates & Stops: May 26, 2015
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