Roan Parrish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Roan Parrish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:03:14 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Roan Parrish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-most-unusual-haunting-of-edgar-lovejoy-read-online-roan-parrish Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:03:14 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-most-unusual-haunting-of-edgar-lovejoy-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Gay, GLBT, Paranormal Authors: Roan Parrish Advertisement

Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)

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Jamie Wendon-Dale may design haunted houses, but they don't actually believe in ghosts—until they meet Edgar Lovejoy, who is tall, clever, beautiful…and 100% haunted.

A COZY, GHOSTLY LGBTQIA+ ROMANCE

Jamie Wendon-Dale creates haunted houses for a living. Haunting is their life—but nobody working New Orleans' spooky circuit actually believes in ghosts.

Edgar Lovejoy is 100% haunted. No, really. Ghosts have tormented him since childhood and he's organized his life around attempts to avoid them.

Opposites? Get ready to attract. But while Jamie's biggest concern is that Edgar sometimes seems a bit distracted, Edgar's fears are much greater. Not only is he scared of encountering the dearly departed whenever he leaves the house, but he's terrified of making himself vulnerable to Jamie. After all, how do you tell someone who believes ghosts only exist as smoke and mirrors that you see them everywhere you go? And how can you trust in a happy future when you can't even believe in yourself?

A little spooky, a little magical, and a whole lot The (Most Unusual) Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy will leave you feeling like you've found a brand new bookish family of your own

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Edgar

Beyond the beaded curtains of the Never Lounge was another world.

Light spangled every surface and caught in hazy shafts of perfumed smoke that plumed from the stage. Velvet-flocked walls, a cascade of velvet curtains, the velvet shred of a horn bellying low…the darkened club embraced Edgar before his eyes could adjust.

Someone called his name, and he blinked away the haze until he could pick out the familiar form of Helen Vang waving him over to the high-top table they were sharing with Veronica Deslonde and Greta Russakoff. Empty glasses, bottles, and cigarette packets littered the tabletop, and they whooped a greeting as he joined them.

Edgar steeled himself for the discomfort of socializing and tried to smile.

Helen turned to Veronica and held out their hand. With a humph, Veronica pulled a bill from her cleavage and handed it to them.

“You just cost me ten bucks,” Veronica said, but she kissed his cheek with as much welcome as she always did, the delicious honey-smoke scent of her calming him.

“I never doubted you,” Helen crowed.

Greta snorted and whispered, “They changed their bet three minutes ago,” as she hugged him hello.

“I come to stuff,” Edgar grumbled. But he didn’t grumble too loudly, because it wasn’t true, strictly speaking.

Carys, Greta’s partner, approached with an armful of drinks. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Oh wow,” she said, sliding the drinks onto the table. “You showed!”

But she elbowed Edgar teasingly, and he tried to relax.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Get you a drink?” Carys asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Edible?” Helen proffered an Altoids tin covered in glitter, and he waved it off.

“I’m good.”

As Edgar’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and his friends’ conversation picked back up around him, he began his habitual scan of the room.

The trick was to keep your gaze steady but unfocused, letting your eyes pick up on anything that unusual. The brain snagged on standout things more easily that way. Of course, at a queer burlesque show in New Orleans, there were standout things everywhere Edgar looked.

Lava lamps on the lip of the proscenium glowed with orange, pink, and violet globules that drifted, broke, and recombined in hypnotic pulsations; ostrich feathers riffled in the breeze of the overhead fans. Performers slunk through the crowd, eyes and mouths exaggerated or erased, hair pomaded slick or piled high, rhinestones and sequins and glitter twinkling in the light, bootheels and tap heels and high heels click-clacking a chaotic rhythm that underlaid the music’s driving moan.

The atmosphere caressed every sense, and a tingle began in Edgar’s inner thighs and flushed through him.

It was seductive, but allowing himself to be seduced meant his guard would be down, so he shook it off and forced himself to breathe evenly as he resumed scanning the room, searching, as ever, for things that shouldn’t be there.

Creatures that shouldn’t be there. Because they shouldn’t exist at all.

What he usually caught first was a glimmer—light catching their nonforms differently than the living, because they weren’t made of the same corporeal stuff. But in the dark, he couldn’t depend on that.

If not a glimmer, then sometimes it was a mirage—the air between him and the entity wavy like the hottest days of August. But with the stage lights and dim houselights and the smoke and dust motes catching in both, right now he couldn’t depend on that either.

A familiar itch of panic sparked, and Edgar inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, noting the glowing red exit signs as beacons of escape.

The conversation had moved to the new flavor that Helen, Veronica, and Greta were developing for Lagniappe Lemonade, the cocktail business they’d developed the year before. Edgar worked for them part-time, delivering the bottles of artisanal hard lemonade made with New Orleans–grown lemons and herbs and sweetened with the honey from Veronica’s bees. He’d quickly learned that Helen, Veronica, and Greta were as close as family, and—used to it from his own sister—he’d welcomed their sibling-esque meddling and prying with equanimity.

It was why he had come tonight. They invited him to things often. Dancing, dinner parties, game nights. He rarely attended, citing his other job or a family obligation or—as often as it was believable from someone they teased for having no social life—other plans. But he’d wanted to see the queer burlesque show that some of Helen’s friends were performing in. The boldness of burlesque had always intrigued him.

Now that he was here though, he regretted it. Even as he tried to remain calm, the air became thick in his throat, and his ribs clutched at his heart.

“Bathroom,” Edgar mumbled and made his escape.

He wound through the crowd, careful not to brush up against anyone if he could help it. If there was one of them in the crowd and he touched it by mistake, ice would slide down his spine and twist his gut.

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Shelter in Garnet Run (Garnet Run #4.5) Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/shelter-in-garnet-run-garnet-run-4-5-read-online-roan-parrish Fri, 15 Dec 2023 11:43:46 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/shelter-in-garnet-run-garnet-run-4-5-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, M-M Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)

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A Cozy Christmas in Garnet Run

River Mills loves working at the Dirt Road Cat Shelter in the cozy town of Garnet Run. They finally have a safe place to live and wonderful friends (feline and human), for the first time. But love? They’ve never had much luck … until gorgeous, confident Cassidy Darling bursts through the shelter door one night with an injured cat in his arms.
Cassidy loves all animals and when their lives are cut short, he loves honoring them through the art of ethical taxidermy. Craftmas, the local holiday art fair, is his biggest sales event of the year. When the cutie he met at the cat shelter the week before turns out to be running the booth next to his, Cassidy is thrilled. But River isn’t—taxidermy? Horrifying!
But as they get to know each other, River realizes that Cassidy is vulnerable and kind, and Cassidy learns River has the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met—just in time to share a Christmas full of sexy exploration, emotional connection, and, of course, cats.

*Shelter in Garnet Run takes place after the events of The Rivals of Casper Road, but can be read as a stand-alone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

River

Ten minutes before closing, headlights swept through the trees as a truck rounded the driveway and came to a stop in the parking lot of the Dirt Road Cat Shelter. People always did this—thought that as long as they dashed through the door before it was locked then they could take their sweet time playing with the cats.

Usually, River Mills didn’t mind. The chance of a cat getting adopted was well worth the loss of personal time. Not like they were really doing much after closing other than playing with the cats, anyway.

Tonight, though, they were exhausted. All they wanted to do was take a hot shower, smoke some weed, and have popcorn for dinner while they watched the final three episodes of Surprise, You’re Married. They were pretty sure three of the couples didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.

The doors flew open in a gust of cold wind, pine needles, and exhaust. A large, broad man who appeared to be wrapped in a blanket rushed toward them.

"I’m so glad you’re still open," the man said from inside his thick scarf. "I wasn’t sure where else to go."

River glanced up into concerned brown eyes. The man uncovered a bundle in his arms. The blanket wasn’t wrapped around him; it was wrapped around a small, trembling cat.

"I found it on the side of the road. I thought it was dead, but when I went to pick it up …"

The cat looked bad. Nearly frozen and undernourished, it probably would’ve died in the night if he hadn’t found it. River’s heart began to pound and a familiar tightness banded their chest.

"Bring it in here."

The man followed them without question as they found a box to keep the cat warm and turned on a heating pad. He placed the bundle in the box gently, stroking the cat’s ear with a fingertip before withdrawing.

River put the box on the heating pad and tucked the blanket around the cat. Better to warm it up first before checking for any other injuries or illnesses. The cat could sleep next to their bed so they could get up every couple hours and give it formula if it was strong enough to eat. Then they’d call Molly tomorrow morning and see if she could come take a look at the poor little thing.

River just hoped it would last that long. Nausea bubbled up in their gut. The last time someone had brought in a cat, it hadn’t made it. Too young, too weak, it had died in their arms three hours later.

"… Darling."

River tuned back in and the man’s hand was extended.

"What? Sorry."

"I’m Cassidy Darling."

Did you honestly think for one second that this dude was calling you "darling"?

They shook hands. The man’s palm was rough and dry, his fingers long.

There were people who introduced themselves with their full names, right off the bat. From most people, it seemed self-aggrandizing, as if their reputation preceded them. But from Cassidy Darling it struck River as anachronistic instead. A throwback to a time when a full name had the power to conjure an entire story.

"River."

They walked back out to the front desk, hoping he would get the hint and take off. But he stopped at the desk with them.

"Do you think it’s gonna be okay, River?"

His voice caressed their name and their scalp prickled pleasantly.

"Global climate change, inflation, the denial of bodily autonomy, and the rise of fascism suggest no," they muttered.

Excitement sparked in the man’s eyes and he unwound his scarf, opened his wool overcoat, and began to unbutton his gray flannel shirt.

"Uhh."

River froze, squinted their eyes half-shut, and held up their hand, as if they could ward off whatever was about to happen.

Their boss had definitely failed to address what to do if a patron strips in front of you in the employee handbook. Well. Less handbook and more pieces of paper covered in Rye’s cramped handwriting and River’s revisions held together with a paper clip in the bottom drawer.

Cassidy spread open his muted winter layers to reveal a bright yellow T-shirt that said Tell Me About It. He made a Vanna White gesture at the shirt.

"Um. Is that … Jokerman?"

"The font? I don’t know. My sister made it for me. I’ll ask her."

He was typing on his phone before River could say anything.

Ohh, he was agreeing with me. Via shirt.

"Her answer was a grin emoji. Does that mean it is?"

"I know it is. Never mind. I don’t know about the cat, but I’ll have the vet come take a look tomorrow."

"She says 'that’s the joke.' What the hell does that mean?"

Before, River had seen only a flip book of moods—worried, excited, confused. But when Cassidy looked up from his phone, River took in his features for the first time.

He had warm brown eyes and a short, full beard. When he smiled, it revealed a space between his two front teeth and smile lines around his eyes. A thin, gold ring gleamed in his nose and his brown hair was in a parted quiff with the sides faded.

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The Rivals of Casper Road (Garnet Run #4) Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-rivals-of-casper-road-garnet-run-4-read-online-roan-parrish Sat, 15 Oct 2022 22:39:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-rivals-of-casper-road-garnet-run-4-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: M-M Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

He’s in it to win it until he falls under his neighbor’s spell.

Bram Larkspur’s rugged, sexy looks belie his fear of all things horrifying. But as Casper Road’s newest resident, he’s excited to join the annual Halloween decorating contest. The competition is keen, especially from six-time champion, architect Zachary Glass. But when enigmatic Zachary sparks a prank war, it’s game on – until one sizzling kiss turns these rivals into allies. Now only one thing scares Bram: how quickly he’s losing his heart to Zachary.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Bram

He’d chosen it because of the name: Casper Road. Recently Bram Larkspur had felt like a ghost. At least a friendly one would be an upgrade.

After six months of working at Hollywell’s Tree Farm half an hour north and housesitting for its owner, he’d gotten a tip that Garnet Run was a nice place to be. Cheap, picturesque, and possessed of a more robust queer community than you might expect for a small town in Wyoming.

The money he’d saved was more than enough for first, last, and security, so he’d rented the small house on Casper Road and moved his meager possessions there the night before, arriving after dark and falling into an exhausted sleep.

The August morning dawned, lazy and warm, and Bram felt his heart settle just a little; felt it beat, snugged safe within the protective cage of his ribs.

For a while there, he’d worried it might be irreparably broken.

But that was six months ago. Now, he told himself, he had a new life in a new town on a new street, and he didn’t want to waste a minute of it.

He whistled and Hemlock, his yellow Labrador, pranced into the room, brown eyes warm and familiar. Bram scratched between her ears and Hem put her front paws on his knees, whuffling enthusiastically. He kissed her head and she licked his elbow, as usual.

“Let’s go explore,” Bram said.

Hem yipped with excitement.

* * *

Casper Road was a curvy three-quarters of a mile, ending in the cul-de-sac near Bram’s house. At the other end, it dead-ended into Hoot Owl Road. The houses on Casper Road were of all different sizes and styles, and the road seemed to have grown in order to connect the houses rather than the other way around.

The most notable thing about it, though, was the way most houses contained “Casper Road” in their address plaques. No “745” here; it was all “745 Casper Road.” A few even had ghosts next to the numbers.

Bram and Hemlock spent a pleasant half hour walking up and back the street slowly, noting the gardens and trees (Bram) and sticks and smells (Hemlock). When they got back to number 667, Bram fed Hemlock, made some dandelion tea, and took his tea and his whittling bag back outside to watch Casper Road awake.

Bram settled on the front stoop. Hemlock snuffed around the steps for a while, then settled beside him, half of her on each step.

Bram had been whittling since he was ten, the only one of his five siblings to catch the bug. He’d been transfixed watching his father transform chunks of wood into art. For years, he’d begged to try it, and had always been told, “Watch. Learn.” Then, on his tenth birthday, he’d unwrapped a chunk of basswood and a pair of thick gloves.

“Where’s the knife?” Bram had said, fingers itching to hold wood and blade.

“You get the knife when you promise us that you’ll always wear the gloves while you whittle,” his father had said.

“I promise,” Bram had sworn solemnly, and his mother had produced a knife from behind her back. She’d laughed with joy at his excitement and his father had said, “Carve me something pretty.”

They weren’t the same gloves, of course, but Bram had always kept his promise. Even a thousand miles from his parents, he pulled on his gloves before he picked up the knife.

“What are you going to be?” he murmured to the chunk of wood he’d plucked from the curb on their morning walk. He let his mind and eyes wander as he thought.

Bram didn’t know anything about architecture, but the black-and-white house across from his looked odd. It seemed to have flown together rather at random until you unfocused your eyes and then it was clear that its symmetry was diagonal rather than horizontal. Bram found it both ugly and intriguing, but the more he looked at it the more ugly gave way to intrigue.

Sometimes when Bram whittled, the whole world went away. Other times, it was just something to do with his hands. This morning, it was the latter, and he carved into the wood as he contemplated the diagonal house and the stirrings up and down Casper Road.

What emerged was a pelican, the swoop of its beak breaking the diagonal of the wood. Bram smoothed his blade along its back and Hemlock farted in her sleep.

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The Holiday Trap Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-holiday-trap-read-online-roan-parrish Mon, 12 Sep 2022 11:39:28 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-holiday-trap-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: GLBT, Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Advertisement

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >129

For fans of Alexandria Bellefleur and Alexis Hall comes a charming, hilarious, and heartwarming LGBTQIA+ romcom about two separate couples finding love over the holidays from acclaimed author Roan Parrish!

Greta Russakoff loves her tight-knit family and tiny Maine hometown, even if they don’t always understand what it’s like to be a lesbian living in such a small world. She desperately needs space to figure out who she is.
Truman Belvedere has just had his heart crushed into a million pieces when he learned that his boyfriend of almost a year has a secret life that includes a husband and a daughter. Reeling from this discovery, all he wants is a place to lick his wounds far, far away from New Orleans.
Enter Greta and Truman’s mutual friend, Ramona, who facilitates a month-long house swap. Over the winter holidays, each of them will have a chance to try on a new life… and maybe fall in love with the perfect partner of their dreams. But all holidays must come to an end, and eventually Greta and Truman will have to decide whether the love they each found so far from home is worth fighting for.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Chapter 1

Greta

Snow fell in fat, picturesque flakes, fairy lights twinkled around the stage, and the hum of excitement and cheer that always attended the Owl Island, Maine, Holiday Fair electrified the town square.

Greta Russakoff stood in the center of it all and contemplated precisely how she would murder her entire family one by one.

It had begun as the Holiday Fair always did: Valentine Johnson, the mayor of Owl Island, turned on the lights that illuminated the town square and all the businesses that lined the four streets creating it. She called the Holiday Fair to life amid cheers and whoops from a familiar crowd. And then she called up the volunteers for their annual charity auction.

This year, the charity was the Owl Island Library, and the auction was for a dinner date at Francesca’s, Sue Romano’s Italian restaurant.

Only this time, after Valentine had called up the usual suspects, another name rang out.

“Our final volunteer is Greta Russakoff. Come on up!”

The smile of holiday cheer died on Greta’s lips, and for one tremulous moment, she thought she’d simply misheard. After all, there were six other Russakoffs in town. They stood all around her: her parents and her four sisters.

But that hope died the same death as her smile when she saw the faces of her mother and her eldest sister, Sadie, who were looking at her with twin expressions of satisfaction.

Her father was pointedly avoiding her eyes, as was her older sister, Tillie, the peacemaker. Her twin, Adelaide, blinked in horror at her but didn’t say anything. Her youngest sister Maggie’s mouth dropped open, and she mouthed Oh, shit, the words swallowed by the murmurs of the crowd.

“What,” Greta bit off between gritted teeth, looking between Sadie and her mother, “Did. You. Do?”

“Greta, are you here?” the mayor crooned into the microphone. “Remember, this is for charity.”

Valentine was beloved on Owl Island. She had increased tourism and revenue for small businesses, including the Russakoffs’.

Greta added the mayor to her kill list.

Her heart sank as people began to reach out and pat her on the back and smile.

“Go on, Greta!”

“Get it, Greta!”

“Greta, yeah!”

Could you murder an entire town?

“Go get ’em, kiddo,” Sadie trilled, and Greta wondered, not for the first time, why Sadie gloried in messing with her more than with anyone else.

You could just leave, Greta told herself. Just turn around and walk away. You’re an adult now, and this isn’t the damned hunger games. They can’t make you.

Greta squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I didn’t volunteer,” she said confidently and prepared to leave.

Only her words came out as a croak, and she didn’t leave.

She turned to Adelaide, looking for a rescue or help or…something. But while Addie looked horrified on her behalf, she just shrugged, an I-don’t-know-what-to-do gesture familiar from every awkward situation of their childhood.

“Dude,” Maggie said to Sadie. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Greta, go,” her mother hissed. “It’s for charity!” Nothing scandalized Nell Russakoff like a lack of performative generosity.

Owl Island was a small town. Leaving would mean answering questions for weeks. Which would mean offending people about the auction, a beloved town tradition. Which would mean even more talking to people who’d known her since she was a child and still treated her like she was one.

Greta gritted her teeth so hard she felt a headache threaten and walked stiffly to the stage, taking care not to meet anyone’s eyes lest she perish from mortification or reveal previously unknown Medusa-like powers. She stood next to the other volunteers with what she hoped was dignity but would see in pictures later was the pose of someone who desperately needed to pee.

One by one, the volunteers were bid on.

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The Lights on Knockbridge Lane (Garnet Run #3) Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-lights-on-knockbridge-lane-garnet-run-3-read-online-roan-parrish Wed, 29 Sep 2021 10:33:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-lights-on-knockbridge-lane-garnet-run-3-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	The Lights on Knockbridge Lane (Garnet Run #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	0369710282 (ISBN13: 9780369710284)
Book Information:
Can one man’s crowded, messy life fill another man’s empty heart? Raising a family was always Adam Mills’ dream, although solo parenting and moving back to tiny Garnet Run certainly were not. After a messy breakup, Adam is doing his best to give his young daughter the life she deserves—including accepting help from their new, reclusive neighbor to fulfill her Christmas wish. Though the little house may not have “the most lights ever,” the Mills home begins to brighten as handsome Wes Mobray spends more time there and slowly sheds his protective layers. But when the eye-catching house ends up in the news, Wes has to make a choice: hide from the darkness of his unusual past or embrace the light of a future—and a family—with Adam. From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness. Garnet Run Book 1: Better Than People....Book 2: Best Laid Plans
Books in Series:	Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish

Chapter One

Adam

Everyone on Knockbridge Lane had a different theory about Westley Mobray. It was the first thing Adam Mills heard about as he introduced himself around last week, when he and August moved in.

The eight-year-old McKinnon twins next door said he was a vampire. Their parents, Darren and Rose McKinnon, scoffed at that, but said he could be a witch. Marisol Gutierrez three doors down insisted she’d seen him skulking around the neighborhood at night, hunting for animals to sacrifice to the devil. A teenager at the end of the street reported that anyone who looked him in the eyes would be hypnotized, and anyone who touched him would turn to stone. Mr. Montgomery on the corner just said freak.

Westley Mobray was never seen before sunset, though mysterious packages arrived on his doorstep often. He never spoke to anyone and never waved hello. And late at night, the windows of his run-down house glowed an eerie green.

At least, that’s what they told Adam.

So when he saw the man in question through the twilit haze of his own front window—with his daughter in tow—he was understandably startled. Especially since he’d thought she was playing quietly in her room.

He’d slammed two coffees to prevent it, but he’d been asleep. The kind of light, unsatisfying sleep he often fell into when he had a moment of quiet. Which was something that didn’t happen that often as the newly single parent of an eight-year-old.

His insomnia had been pretty bad since the divorce, and worse since they moved back to Garnet Run, where he was the only one responsible for Gus.

The knock at the door jerked him out of that strange sleep, and he scrambled for the door, stubbing his toe in the process, so that when he yanked it open he was biting back the kind of words that he tried with varying degrees of success not to say in front of Gus.

He focused on Gus first. She was all in one piece and was even smiling. It was her I did something bad and delightful smile, but a smile was good—at least when on a child who seemed to have been forcibly dragged home by an irate stranger.

“Where is your coat?” is what came out of Adam’s mouth.

Sometimes he tried to remember what it was like when he talked about things like the composition of his next shot, which restaurant’s tiramisu he preferred, or the latest cozy mystery he was reading.

Now he said things like “Where is your coat” and “Don’t take that apart” and “If you don’t stop making that sound I might have to throttle you.” Okay, he didn’t say the last one so much as think it. Often.

“It’s not that cold,” his wonderful, brilliant daughter said, her lips only vaguely blue.

Adam counseled himself to breathe.

Once he’d determined that Gus was all in one piece and frostbite wasn’t imminent, he turned his attention to the man who’d brought her home.

“Um,” he said intelligently.

Westley Mobray was tall and severe, with shaved dark hair and strong dark eyebrows over piercing blue eyes. Those eyes were narrowed slightly, either in anger or—if the neighborhood rumors were to be believed—because he never went outside when there was the slightest bit of light still in the sky, as it would, of course, burn him to ash.

“She broke into my house,” he said. His voice was low and rough with disuse.

“She’s eight.”

Mobray cocked his head as if unsure what that might have to do with Gus’ felonious misdeeds.

Adam sighed.

“Gus, did you break into our neighbor’s house?”

She squinted and screwed up her face in a way that said she absolutely had. Adam and Gus had a strict No Lying policy, which had resulted in Gus developing a keen sense of words and their exact meanings.

“I didn’t break anything,” she settled on finally.

Adam offered up a silent prayer to the universe that his daughter not end up in prison.

“Did you enter without being invited?” he clarified.

And the vampire hits just kept coming.

She bit her lip and nodded.

“You can’t do that, baby. It’s not safe for you and it’s not okay to intrude on other people’s privacy.”

She looked down at her toes, the very image of contrition. Then she peeked up at him with a glint in her big blue eyes.

“But he has lizards,” she said softly.

“Okay, let’s get you inside,” Adam said quickly. Once Gus got going on something that fascinated her—and lizards were the most recent addition to that list—she tended to forget any reason why she shouldn’t abandon all sense (or rules) to pursue it.

Adam passed her behind him and looked up at Westley Mobray.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he said.

“She climbed in through my basement window.”

Adam winced. Gus really was remarkably resourceful. And limber.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to her. She just, uh, really likes lizards. It started as a dinosaur thing and now... Anyway. Eight-year-olds.”

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Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run #2) Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/best-laid-plans-garnet-run-2-read-online-roan-parrish Sun, 28 Feb 2021 09:51:30 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/best-laid-plans-garnet-run-2-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	0369702883 (ISBN13: 9780369702883)
Book Information:
A man who’s been moving his whole life finally finds a reason to stay put. Charlie Matheson has spent his life taking care of things. When his parents died two days before his eighteenth birthday, he took care of his younger brother, even though that meant putting his own dreams on hold. He took care of his father’s hardware store, building it into something known several towns over. He took care of the cat he found in the woods…so now he has a cat. When a stranger with epic tattoos and a glare to match starts coming into Matheson’s Hardware, buying things seemingly at random and lugging them off in a car so beat-up Charlie feels bad for it, his instinct is to help. When the man comes in for the fifth time in a week, Charlie can’t resist intervening. Rye Janssen has spent his life breaking things. Promises. His parents’ hearts. Leases. He isn’t used to people wanting to put things back together—not the crumbling house he just inherited, not his future and certainly not him. But the longer he stays in Garnet Run, the more he can see himself belonging there. And the more time he spends with Charlie, the more he can see himself falling asleep in Charlie’s arms…and waking up in them. Is this what it feels like to have a home—and someone to share it with?
Books in Series:	Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish

Chapter One

Rye

After sixteen hours of driving and a miracle that prevented his car from dying, Rye Janssen was exhausted and slap-happy, but hopeful.

Around hour three, his cat, Marmot, had realized she could squeeze between the headrest and Rye’s neck and bat at his hair as he drove. By hour nine, Rye had consumed so much gas station coffee he was practically vibrating and Marmot had exhausted herself and curled up on the dashboard, snoozing in the sun.

As the road spooled out behind him and before him, Rye felt like he could breathe for the first time in years. He used to love Seattle. As a child, the city had felt like a world of possibility. When had it become claustrophobic?

His car stereo had broken ages ago, so Rye hummed to himself. Then he sang, loud, belting words he hadn’t thought of in years, letting the wind rushing by his open windows snatch the sound away.

When Marmot crawled onto his lap and looked up at him with her alien eyes, he realized he was crying. Marmot licked at his chin and he smiled.

“Best decision I ever made, pulling you out of that oil can,” he told her fondly.

And it was.

Rye only hoped the decision he was currently making turned out anywhere near as well.

* * *

When Rye had gotten the call three days before, informing him that he’d inherited a house from a grandfather he’d never met, Rye assumed it was some kind of scam. He hung up, irritated it hadn’t been someone calling about one of the many job applications he had submitted. But after several more hours of phone tag and internet research, eventually Rye believed it.

He had inherited a house in some town he’d never heard of in Wyoming, a state he wasn’t absolutely positive he could point to on a map.

In the end, the decision was surprisingly simple. Rye was broke. He’d been crashing with different groups of friends every week since he and his housemates had been evicted two months before. It had been his third eviction, and this time there were no more places to scrape together first, last, and security for.

Throw in the fact that he was pretty much out of cat-friendly couches when he wore out his welcome on this one, and suddenly a house of his own sounded pretty damn appealing. Maybe he didn’t know anyone there; maybe he had to google map it; but at least he’d have a roof over his head.

So Rye had packed his few belongings into his untrustworthy Beretta, grabbed Marmot, and hit the road as the sun set over the bay.

* * *

When he arrived at the address the lawyer had given him in Garnet Run, Wyoming, Rye thought he’d been punked. Hoped he had been, because if this was what he’d just left Seattle for, Rye was utterly screwed.

The house stood in a wind-blasted field surrounded on two sides by woods, with nothing around but a horror movie scarecrow clinging to its post and a pack of chipmunks that seemed intent on taking over the world. Were there tornadoes in Wyoming? Because it looked like one had hit the house.

Rye crept cautiously in the open front door, hoping the roof wasn’t about to cave in. Marmot sniffed delicately, sneezed, hissed at her own sneeze, then scampered off to explore.

The interior appeared to be held together by spiderwebs, dust, and a few rusty nails that looked like they’d originated in the Lincoln administration. The walls sagged, the ceiling sagged; the whole damn house looked like it was being pulled straight down to hell by some central sinkhole beneath it. To the right was a narrow staircase, presumably to the second floor, but Rye would be goddamned if he was setting one foot on that obvious death trap.

A doorway beyond that led into a small kitchen, and through that another door led outside, where a porch even saggier than the house drooped. From the back of the house, far away, Rye could see the peak of one solitary rooftop. Had he moved to some kind of ghost town?

He walked a little ways away (because, seriously, the house—god, his house—looked like it could collapse at any second) and sank into a crouch, hand clasped across his mouth to keep in the sound of his panicked breathing.

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Better Than People (Garnet Run #1) Read online Roan Parrish http://www.ilovenovels.com/better-than-people-read-online-roan-parrish Wed, 08 Jul 2020 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/better-than-people-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Better Than People (Garnet Run #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1488076847 (ISBN13: 9781488076848)
Book Information:
It’s not long before their pet-centric arrangement sparks a person-centric desire… Simon Burke has always preferred animals to people. When the countdown to adopting his own dog is unexpectedly put on hold, Simon turns to the PetShare app to find the fluffy TLC he’s been missing. Meeting a grumpy children’s book illustrator who needs a dog walker isn’t easy for the man whose persistent anxiety has colored his whole life, but Jack Matheson’s menagerie is just what Simon needs. Four dogs, three cats and counting. Jack’s pack of rescue pets is the only company he needs. But when a bad fall leaves him with a broken leg, Jack is forced to admit he needs help. That the help comes in the form of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen is a complicated, glorious surprise. Being with Jack—talking, waking, making out—is a game changer for Simon. And Simon’s company certainly…eases the pain of recovery for Jack. But making a real relationship work once Jack’s cast comes off will mean compromise, understanding and lots of love.
Books in Series:	Garnet Run Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish

Chapter One

Jack

If you had told Jack Matheson when he woke up this morning that he’d end the day at the bottom of a ditch, he wouldn’t have been terribly surprised. After all, his whole life felt like it was spent at the bottoms of ditches these days—what was one more literal one?

The nightly walk had begun as they usually did. As soon as he finished dinner and placed his plate and fork in the sink, the dogs had clustered around him, eyes hopeful and tongues out, ready to prowl. Bernard butted his huge head against Jack’s thighs in encouragement while Puddles hung back, waiting to follow the group out. Dandelion pawed at the ground excitedly, and Rat vibrated in place, tiny body taut with anticipation.

The cats cleaned themselves or snoozed on various surfaces, watching with disinterest, except for Pirate. Pirate twined her way through the forest of legs and paws and tails, back arched, sleek and ready.

“Let’s head out,” Jack said, clipping on leashes and straightening harnesses as he shoved his feet into worn boots and plastic bags in his back pocket.

Pirate led the way, trotting light-footed ahead of them, then doubling back like a scout. Huge, snuggly Bernard—a St. Bernard who’d been with him the longest—took turns walking next to each of the others, nipping and licking at his friends enthusiastically, and drawing back when he accidentally shoved them off their feet. Bernard didn’t know his own strength.

Dandelion pranced along, happy as always to snap at the breeze or a puff of dust, or simply to be outside.

Puddles walked carefully, his soft golden face swinging back and forth, alert for danger, and he jumped at every sound. Twice, Jack had to scoop him up and carry him over the puddles he refused to step in or walk around.

Rat took the lead, just behind Pirate, her tiny legs going hummingbird fast to keep ahead of the others. She kept her nose to the ground, and if she scented a threat, she’d be the first to take it on.

Their leashes crisscrossed throughout the walk, and Jack untangled them absently as he kept one eye on the animals and the other on the sky.

Summer had settled into autumn, and the leaves of Garnet Run, Wyoming, were tipped with red and gold. The air held the first promises of winter, and Jack found himself sighing deeply. Winter was beautiful here. His little cottage was cozy, his fireplace warm, and the woods peaceful.

But this year, for the first time in nearly a decade, he wouldn’t have work to occupy him as the snow fell outside.

Jack growled and clenched his fists against the fury that roared in his ears as he anticipated yet another night without a notebook in his hand.

Bernard snuffled against his thigh and Puddles whined. This—this right here was why animals beat people, paws down.

They were sensitive. They cared. They wanted to be loved and they gave love back. Animals never betrayed you the way people did. They were loyal.

“It’s okay,” Jack murmured. He scratched Bernard’s massive head and ran gentle fingers over Puddles’ tense ears. “I’ll be okay.”

Bernard gave his elbow an enthusiastic lick.

“I’ll be okay,” Jack repeated firmly, to himself this time, as a squirrel’s over-enthusiastic labors dislodged an acorn from an overhanging branch. The acorn rustled through the leaves and fell directly onto the soft fur between Puddles’ ears, where Jack’s fingers had stroked a moment before.

Puddles, skittish at the best of times, reared into the air, fur bristling, and took off into the trees, his leash slipping through Jack’s fingers.

“Dammit, Puddles, no!”

Jack tried to follow, but Bernard had plopped down on the soft grass at the tree line and was currently rolling himself in evening smells. It was useless to attempt to move Bernard once he was on the ground, even for a man of Jack’s size.

“Stay!” Jack commanded. Bernard woofed, Dandelion flopped down beside him, Rat clawed at the ground, teeth bared. “Pirate, watch them,” he called to the cat, even though Pirate had never given him any indication that she understood orders, much less took them.

Jack took off after Puddles. The thought of the dog afraid made Jack’s heart pound and he ran full-out.

Puddles had been a trembling mess when Jack found him by the side of the road two years before, and it had taken a month before the Lab would even eat the food Jack offered from his hand. Slowly, painstakingly, he had gained Puddles’ trust, and the dog had joined the rest of his pack.

“Puddles!” Jack called into the twilight. He heard a whine ahead and sped up, muscles burning, glad for his afternoon runs. Leaves crunched up ahead to his left and Jack zagged. “Puddles?”

Dark was closing in on the woods and Jack narrowed his eyes, hoping to avoid running smack into a tree. When he heard Puddles’ soft bark from up ahead he threw himself forward again.

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Where We Left Off Read Online Roan Parrish (Middle of Somewhere #3) http://www.ilovenovels.com/where-we-left-off-3-read-online-roan-parrish Wed, 17 Aug 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/where-we-left-off-3-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Angst, College, Funny, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 107949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Where We Left Off (Middle of Somewhere #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9781634776912
Book Information:
Leo Ware may be young, but he knows what he wants. And what he wants is Will Highland. Snarky, sophisticated, fiercely opinionated Will Highland, who burst into Leo’s unremarkable life like a supernova… and then was gone just as quickly. For the past miserable year, Leo hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the powerful connection he and Will shared. So, when Leo moves to New York for college, he sweeps back into Will’s life, hopeful that they can pick up where they left off. What begins as a unique friendship soon burns with chemistry they can’t deny… though Will certainly tries. But Leo longs for more than friendship and hot sex. A romantic to his core, Leo wants passion, love, commitment—everything Will isn’t interested in giving. Will thinks romance is a cheesy fairytale and love is overrated. He likes his space and he’s happy with things just the way they are, thank you very much. Or is he? Because as he and Leo get more and more tangled up in each other’s lives, Will begins to act like maybe love is something he could feel after all.
Books in Series:	Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish Books

Chapter 1

September

IT ONLY took one day in New York City for me to break every single resolution I’d made.

Even after a year of dreaming what it would be like—a year of slogging back and forth between Grayling Community College and my parents’ house—I hadn’t even come close to anticipating how it would feel to actually leave Holiday, Michigan, much less to arrive in New York.

Nothing in any of the movies I’d seen prepared me for the feeling of watching the city rise like the distant sun of an alien planet miles and miles before the bus would reach it. It was just there, out the windows on both sides, its size an announcement: you still have time to turn back. Or: once you enter you’ll never get out again. Or: anything you could ever need is waiting for you.

LATER, AFTER I’d found my way to the dorms, I helped people move in, since I only had two suitcases, a backpack, and my skateboard. They were bringing whole lives with them into their rooms when all I wanted was to leave mine behind.

I exchanged some variation on the themes of What are you studying, Where are you from, and Have you met your roommate yet about a dozen times in the process.

The first girl I told I was from Holiday wore black jeans, boots, and a short black jacket even though it was in the eighties outside, and she was so amused by the name of the town that afterward I just said Michigan. In fact, all my responses seemed to vaguely amuse people, and I could feel my smile become forced, the muscles in my jaw starting to ache and the skin around my eyes tight.

That was Resolution 1—Make a good first impression—scuttled.

I hadn’t slept much on the bus, and what with all the changing buses and layovers on the way to New York, it already felt like the world’s longest day even though it was still early. The mix of sleep deprivation and overstimulation had made me feel all fluttery and tweaked-out. I finally escaped back to my room, desperate to throw my clothes in drawers and veg with an episode of something on Netflix.

I wanted to rest up before Joseph, my roommate, arrived. Joseph and I had e-mailed all summer, planning to go to the new student orientation together, to scope out campus and the surrounding neighborhood and to locate all our classes before school started so we weren’t wandering around like idiots. He’d been nice and funny; safe. And it’d been a relief not to be facing a new school all on my own, to say nothing of a whole new city.

When I opened my computer to find something comforting to watch, though, I found an e-mail from Residential Life instead. Joseph had declined to come to NYU at the last minute and they would be assigning me a different roommate in a few days. My heart started to pound and I closed my eyes. It was a small thing, I told myself. Not a big deal at all. But I guess I didn’t believe myself because suddenly I was close to tears, and before I knew it, I’d done what I always did when I felt freaked out or overwhelmed, which had happened a lot this past year: I called Daniel. As friends went, he was pretty much it for me, though I constantly doubted whether he thought of me the same way.

I’d met Daniel two years ago when he’d moved to Holiday from Philadelphia to teach English at Sleeping Bear College in town. Everyone had been talking about him—at least, everyone who was part of the circuit of small business owners around Mr. Zoo’s, the jumble-shop-cum-music-store where I worked.

At first, I was just curious. The mythology that had bloomed around him was intriguing, and the fact that one of the rumors was that he was gay made him irresistible. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I had begun developing a plan for how I’d choreograph our meeting. It would be casual, of course, subtle. I’d come off as cool and mature, and he wouldn’t be able to help wanting to hang out with me. In the end, though, it hadn’t gone anything like I’d planned.

Before I could even start phase one of Operation: Nab Daniel, he’d found me, swooping in to rescue me from getting my ass kicked by some jackasses I’d gone to high school with, like the hero of my own personal movie, vanquishing the bad guys with a few well-chosen words and gestures.

He was all messy hair and flashing green eyes and tattoos, his shirtsleeves rolled up after a day of teaching. So, okay, I kind of threw myself at him, but it wasn’t just because he was hot. He was like a tornado I wanted to get caught up in—lifted and spun around and deposited in a world more colorful and magical than the black-and-white of Holiday.

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In the Middle of Somewhere Read Online Roan Parrish (Middle of Somewhere #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/in-the-middle-of-somewhere-1-read-online-roan-parrish Tue, 28 Jun 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/in-the-middle-of-somewhere-1-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Angst, College, Contemporary, Drama, Erotic, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance, Tear Jerker, Young Adult Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1634762126 (ISBN13: 9781634762120)
Book Information:
Daniel Mulligan is tough, snarky, and tattooed, hiding his self-consciousness behind sarcasm. Daniel has never fit in—not at home in Philadelphia with his auto mechanic father and brothers, and not at school where his Ivy League classmates looked down on him. Now, Daniel’s relieved to have a job at a small college in Holiday, Northern Michigan, but he’s a city boy through and through, and it’s clear that this small town is one more place he won’t fit in. Rex Vale clings to routine to keep loneliness at bay: honing his muscular body, perfecting his recipes, and making custom furniture. Rex has lived in Holiday for years, but his shyness and imposing size have kept him from connecting with people. When the two men meet, their chemistry is explosive, but Rex fears Daniel will be another in a long line of people to leave him, and Daniel has learned that letting anyone in can be a fatal weakness. Just as they begin to break down the walls keeping them apart, Daniel is called home to Philadelphia, where he discovers a secret that changes the way he understands everything.
Books in Series:	Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish Books

Chapter 1

February

I TOSS my bag in the door of my rental car and practically throw myself in after it. Once the door is safely closed, I slump into the seat, close my eyes, and curse the entire state of Michigan. If Michigan didn’t exist, then I wouldn’t be sitting in a rental car at the edge of Sleeping Bear College’s tiny campus, having a premature midlife crisis at thirty.

I just spent the day interviewing for a job at Sleeping Bear, a small liberal arts college I’d never even heard of until six months ago. My interview went well, my teaching demonstration went even better, and I’m pretty sure I never let my cuffs slide up to show my tattoos. I could tell they liked me, and they seemed enthusiastic about hiring someone young to help them build the department. As they talked about independent studies and dual majors, I mentally catalogued all the bear puns I could. Of course, what they’d think if they found out that I associate bears’ hairy chests and lumbering gaits with large men drinking beer instead of the college, the nearby dunes, and the animal they are named for, I can’t say.

I’ve been working my ass off to get where I am today, and all I can think is that I’m a fraud. I’m not an English professor. I’m just some queer little punk from Philadelphia who the smart kids slummed it with. Just ask my ex. Just ask my father. Ask my brothers, especially. God, what the hell am I doing here?

Sleeping Bear is the only college where I got an interview and it is in the middle of fucking nowhere—near some place called Traverse City (which is definitely not a city, based on anything I’ve ever seen). I had to drive for nearly four hours after I flew to Detroit to get here. I could have gotten closer with a connecting flight in a tiny plane, but I’ll be damned if the first time I ever flew I was going to crash into one of the Great Lakes. No, overland travel was good enough for me, even if the flight, the rental car, and the suit I bought for the visit put me even deeper in the hole than I was before. At least I saved a hundred bucks getting the red-eye from Detroit to Philly tomorrow night.

I shudder when I think what my credit card bill will look like this month. Good thing I can turn the heat off in my apartment in a few weeks when it gets above forty degrees. Not like there’s anyone there except me. My friends from school never want to come to my neighborhood, claiming it’s more convenient to go places near campus. Richard, my ex, wouldn’t be caught dead in my apartment, which he referred to as “the crack house.” Asshole. And I only see my brothers and my dad at their auto shop. Still, I love Philly; I’ve lived there all my life. Moving—especially to the middle of nowhere—well, even the thought is freaking me out.

Now, all I want is to go back to my shitty little motel room, order a pizza, and fall asleep in front of crappy TV. I sigh and start the rental car I can’t afford.

I have to admit, though, the road from the school to my motel is beautiful. All the hotels near campus are cute (read: expensive) bed and breakfast joints, so I booked in at the Motel 6 outside of town. It’s down a two-lane road that seems to follow the tree line. To my left are fields and the occasional dirt road turnoff with signs I can’t read in the near-dark. God, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since an ill-advised Dunkin’ Donuts egg sandwich at the airport.

It’s really cold so far north, but I crack the window to breathe the sweet smell of fresh air and trees anyway. It’s actually really peaceful out here. Quiet. It isn’t something I’m used to—quiet, I mean. Library-quiet and middle-of-the-night quiet, sure. But in the city there’s always noise. This is a quiet that feels like water and trees and, well, nature, I guess, like the time my parents took us to the Jersey Shore when we were kids and I hid under the boardwalk away from the crowds, listening to the overwhelming sound of the ocean and the creak of docks.

And peace? Well, never peace. If it wasn’t one of my asshole brothers starting shit with me, it was my dad flipping his lid over me being gay. Of course, later my lack of peace came in the form of Richard, my ex, who, while we were together, was apparently sleeping with every gay man at the University of Pennsylvania.

My hands tighten on the wheel as I picture Richard, his handsome face set in an expression of haughty condescension as he leveled me with one nauseating smile. “Come on, Dan,” he said, like we had discussed this before, “who believes in monogamy anymore? Don’t be so bourgeois.” And, “It’s not like we’re exclusive.” That, after we’d been together for two years—or so I’d thought—and I’d taken him to my brother Sam’s wedding.

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Out of Nowhere Read Online Roan Parrish (Middle of Somewhere #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/out-of-nowhere-2-read-online-roan-parrish Mon, 27 Jun 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/out-of-nowhere-2-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Angst, College, Contemporary, Drama, Erotic, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance, Tear Jerker, Young Adult Authors: Roan Parrish Series: Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
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Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Out of Nowhere (Middle of Somewhere #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Roan Parrish
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1634769031 (ISBN13: 9781634769037)
Book Information:
The only thing in Colin Mulligan’s life that makes sense is taking cars apart and putting them back together. In the auto shop where he works with his father and brothers, he tries to get through the day without having a panic attack or flying into a rage. Drinking helps. So do running and lifting weights until he can hardly stand. But none of it can change the fact that he’s gay, a secret he has kept from everyone. Rafael Guerrera has found ways to live with the past he’s ashamed of. He’s dedicated his life to social justice work and to helping youth who, like him, had very little growing up. He has no time for love. Hell, he barely has time for himself. Somehow, everything about miserable, self-destructive Colin cries out to him. But down that path lie the troubles Rafe has worked so hard to leave behind. And as their relationship intensifies, Rafe and Colin are forced to dredge up secrets that both men would prefer stay buried.
Books in Series:	Middle of Somewhere Series by Roan Parrish
Books by Author:	Roan Parrish Books

Chapter 1

THE FIST comes toward me in slow motion like some fucked-up cartoon, slamming into my jaw and knocking me sideways. My head hits the metal garbage can, and a few seconds later the blond guy’s load hits my neck and drips onto the cobblestones of the alley. Blond guy’s boots scuff cigarette butts, condoms, and wads of mucky leaves as he stalks toward the back door of the bar, cursing me out.

I didn’t peg him as being able to hit quite that hard when I chose him. He’d looked smaller in the bar, though once we got outside I realized he was about my height—six feet or so. Must’ve been the paisley shirt. Fucking paisley made him look like a wuss. I definitely ripped off a button or two when I shoved him to his knees in front of me, but he didn’t seem to mind. Didn’t mind when I shoved myself down his throat, either, staring past his light hair to the dark brick behind him and trying to pretend I was somewhere else… someone else. He minded being pushed away when he asked me to return the favor, though, and he sure as hell minded when I said I wasn’t a faggot.

My jaw gives a throb and my breath finally comes effortlessly. But it won’t last. It never does.

My vision’s blurry, but that’s probably mostly the whiskey. I drag myself up and stumble the few blocks to the subway, trying desperately to hold on to the calm and think of anything but the feel of another man. When my mind starts to wander to his firm chest and the rasp of stubble on my dick, I run through tomorrow’s transmission rebuild on Mr. Coop’s ’87 Volkswagen Fox until I can relax a little.

The calm’s gone by the time my dingy green-and-white awning is in sight, though, and the catch in my breathing is back, like I can’t quite inhale fully. Because I know what’s waiting for me inside. Nothing. An empty house filled with it. My quickening heartbeat throbs in the bruise emerging on my jaw.

Worse, I’ve sobered up on the walk from the subway and it’s still hours until I can go to work in the morning. The more aware I am of my breathing, the more labored it seems, and I bend slightly at the waist, taking a deep breath with my hands on my thighs. Desperate for something, anything, to distract from the quiet of the walls pressing in on me, I strip off and hit the weight bench. The familiar heft and clank of metal scraping metal and thudding on cheap carpet helps a bit. I lift until my muscles shake and my sweat smells whiskey sweet. If I’m lucky, it’ll be enough to let me fall asleep. But I’m usually not.

The second I flop onto the bed, still damp from the shower, the images start playing behind my closed eyes. Blond guy from earlier, but it could’ve been any of them, really—nameless, interchangeable, seen through a fog of whiskey and revulsion. Their mouths, their sweat, their dirty hands…. But I keep going back even though the thoughts make me squirm.

I GET to Big Jenny’s Dive around nine to meet Xavier. X has been my best friend since we played high school football. The guys on the team teased him for being a black kid from North Philly who loved hair metal instead of rap, and since I loved it too, we spent most of our time arguing about Poison, Mötley Crüe, Def Leppard (which Xavier contended was only pop metal but I worshipped), Twisted Sister, Van Halen, and, of course, since they were from Philly, Cinderella. We’d replace Nas and Goodie Mob with Quiet Riot in the locker room stereo and push Play just as our teammates got in the showers, posing and roughhousing; then we’d crack up as they were stuck doing so naked to the soundtrack of “Cum On Feel the Noize.”

X left for a few years to get his MBA and we lost touch. While he was in North Carolina, he got married and cleaned up a bit. Not that he had ever been into much. Just selling a little pot when he’d needed the money and pills when he could get them. He seemed different when he got back, though. More focused. He put it down to his wife, Angela. I never got the whole story, but I think she basically told him he was acting like a dumb kid and needed to grow the fuck up. Angela doesn’t like me. Xavier denies it, but I know it’s true.

We meet at Big Jenny’s most Thursday evenings to watch two cover bands battle it out, playing hits from the seventies, eighties, and nineties. How loud the audience sings along acts as an applause-o-meter, and the winning band gets free drinks for the week. Cover band night reminds me of singing along to the radio in our garage when Pop still worked at the other shop, my younger brother, Daniel, sitting on the steps into the kitchen watching me and trying to sing but getting all the words wrong.

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