Title: Tender with a Twist
Series: Rainbow Cove #2, but stands alone well
Author: Annabeth Albert
Publisher: Annabeth Albert
Release Date: October 2, 2017
Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 79,000 words
Genre: Romance, Contemporary, May-December, BDSM (light), Small Town
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Synopsis
One kinky wood carver. One younger chef
looking to try new things. A series of lessons that bring both men more than
they bargained for…
Curtis Hunt has made a name for himself
as a chainsaw wood carver, winning national competitions and operating a small
business in Rainbow Cove, Oregon. As winter whittles away his tourist traffic,
his goal is just to survive the season and try to not get lost in grief for his
dead lover. It’s been two years, but he’s sure he’ll never be over the love of
a lifetime. However, his body has a certain restlessness that he doesn’t quite
know how to calm.
Logan Rosner knows a thing or two about
restlessness. It’s what drove him to Rainbow Cove to be a chef at a bar and
grill run by his friends. And it’s what drives him to a single sizzling
encounter with the local legendary lumberjack. Both men get far more than they
expected and learn that first impressions aren’t always accurate…
But when Logan proposes a series of sexy
lessons, Curtis must decide how much he’s willing to risk. He knows he can’t
afford to get attached to Logan’s good cooking, his easy smiles, or his
caretaking, but he keeps going back for more, even as deeper emotions become
involved. Soon, Curtis must decide whether to risk his heart again or risk
losing Logan for good.
Tender with a Twist is a 75,000 word
stand-alone gay romance with a May/December theme, featuring a second chance at
love, opposites attract, loads of sexy times with mild BDSM elements, and one
emotionally-charged, guaranteed happy ending with no cliffhangers.
Excerpt
Logan
The crazy woodcarver was shirtless.
Again. It was a sleepy Thursday in January on the Oregon Coast which meant most
sane people were in flannel and jackets and bundled for the sharp bite of the
wind. I was wearing fleece-lined bike pants and a long-sleeved cycling jacket
myself as I celebrated the first good ride of the year, and I was still chilly
when I stopped my ride near the jewelry store on 101—the main highway running
through Rainbow Cove. I told myself that I’d stopped for some water from my
bottle, but I knew it was a weak excuse. Really, I’d been transfixed by the sight
of Curtis Hunt carving up a giant tree trunk with his chainsaw.
For all that rumors flew about his
eccentricity, the man was an unparalleled artist, and watching him do his thing
was a true pleasure. Sweat dripped from his head and back despite the cool
temperature, and he worked like a man possessed, moving this way and that
around the piece, dancing almost as his chainsaw flitted about with the sort of
grace I’d expect from the jeweler, not this buff lumberjack with heavy
machinery.
He wore sawdust splattered jeans, heavy
boots, safety googles and ear protectors, but his red flannel shirt lay
discarded on a nearby sculpture of a falcon, showing off his shimmering muscles
and tats that even from a distance were impressive. For all that the guy had probably
fifteen years on me, he was in amazing shape. Hell, if I had ink and muscles
like that, I wouldn’t keep my shirt on, either. All the muscles made something
warm unfurl in my gut, but I dismissed the low thrum of arousal as a
never-happening-in-this-lifetime thing. Chances were very high that he’d laugh
at any of my fantasies, especially the ones involving him, some rope, and his
usual intense stare replaced with something closer to supplication.
But, a guy could still look. And want.
So I took my time drinking my water, watching as the outline of a bird slowly
emerged from the raw tree trunk.
In a town as tiny as Rainbow Cove, the
rumor mill worked overtime, and I knew all the rumors about Curtis. Knew he’d
lost his longtime lover a year or two ago and that the two of them had been
mythic fixtures in the area. Curtis had apparently gotten more eccentric since
the other guy had passed, moving into the old gas station he used as a gallery
for his carvings, growing his own food, and going notoriously cranky about
change.
And change was what had driven me to
Rainbow Cove. Change was what my restaurant represented—hope that the area
economy could find a new foothold in tourism. So it wasn’t surprising that
Curtis didn’t seem to like my friends and me any. Probably wouldn’t appreciate
me looking at him like he was a lumbersexual Tumblr all queued up for my
viewing pleasure. But damn, those
muscles…
I gave myself last look before I pedaled
away, heading away from the center of town, taking the turnoff that would lead
me to the narrow residential road that skirted the beach to the south. I was
alone on the road, glorious, vast gray skies and sprawling blue ocean my only
companions. This was what I’d come to Rainbow Cove for, the space to be alone,
the quietness that I’d only ever found before in a dojo. Portland was crowded,
and not just with people. My parents’ expectations always loomed large, as did
past mistakes and hurts, and the general hustle of the area made it hard to
catch my breath, hard to think and breathe and simply be. The traffic. The
noise. The demands. All of it had gotten to be too much for me, and when my
friend Mason had proposed the idea of the bar and grille here on the coast, I’d
leapt at the chance to start fresh, especially since I’d loved the coast from
some of my earliest memories of family weekends away.
Eventually, my ride returned me to the
tavern where Mason was signing off on a meat delivery from a local farm.
“Chef!” The driver greeted me with a
wave as I locked up the bike. “We’ve got some new fillets in. Think you might
want some for a special this week?”
My mind immediately flitted away the
shirtless woodcarver and back to my real passion—cooking. I loved being the
chef here, the guy who made the decisions and the specials. I’d had years of
sous chef positions in Portland, growing ever more eager for my own menu, one
where I could play with sauces and presentation and choose my own local
ingredients.
“I’m picturing a peppercorn crusted
fillet with red wine reduction.” I inspected packages Mason was loading into
the freezer and fridge. We’d do most of our business with the endless stacks of
burger patties, but I loved changing things up with my daily specials, too.
“Don’t know if anyone will pay fillet
prices.” Mason shook his head. The slow winter season was starting to wear on
my friend, who also served as our business manager. “You can try it as a
special, but let’s not over-order.”
I reluctantly took a small order of
fillets, ceding to Mason’s wishes, and rounded out my weekly specials plan with
cheaper options like shepherd’s pie.
“How was your ride?” Mason asked after
the delivery guy was on his way.
“Fine.” I didn’t feel the need to report
on my perving of the woodcarver. It had been a little personal indulgence. Not
to mention the fact that Mason’s police chief boyfriend, Nash Flint, was close
friends with Curtis, which meant I’d be in for double the teasing if I let on
that I’d let my eyes wander in that direction.
“You’re not too lonely, are you?” Mason
pressed. “It’s your first winter on the coast, and I know that can be hard.”
“Not lonely,” I said, truthfully. I was
so happy to be free of all the voices of Portland—my well-meaning parents, my
ex, my aikido master, my many opinionated friends, the executive chefs and
restaurant managers who hadn’t seen fit to promote me. The silence of the off
season meant that for the first time in my life I was finally free to figure
out my own direction, and I intended to seize that. I wasn’t telling Mason, but
that was my New Year’s resolution—be the person I’d been reluctant to embrace
in Portland. It was high time I took a chance on myself.
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Meet 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 children.
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