Sno Ho

Boone Daniels seems to have trouble finishing things. Along with the half dozen or so novels he’s started, only to abandon mid-way through, his love life could be best described as a series of drive-bys.

Boone has spent the past week staying at a ski lodge in the tiny mountain town of Summit City. He’s been using his time alone to write while waiting for his boyfriend to join him for their anniversary.

What happens to Boone when he winds up dumped on the eve of his one-year anniversary and ends up at a bar having one too many cocktails? Wade Walker.

NOTE: Second Edition – This is a previously published work.

Release date: 30 October 2015, Second Edition
Category: Gay Romance
Sub-Genre: Comedy, Contemporary, Erotic
Number of words: 34,182
Formats available: ebook and print
Heat level: 4 out of 5

a wonderful little diversion—makes you smile but also makes you laugh out loud. We do not get too many of those.

Reviews by Amos Lassen

My eyes fluttered open, and the overcast daylight filtering in from the huge picture window slowly came into focus. I was looking out over a panorama of snowy mountains dotted with sprouts of green from the evergreens that poked through the white blanket. The small mountain town of Summit City, Colorado, stretched out along the floor of the valley below. The light drizzle of snow was softly floating from sky to ground. I heard rustling coming from behind me and I sat up, realizing I didn’t know where I was.

I lifted my hand to my forehead as the dull, achy-throbbing began—my hangover waking up with me. How much had I had to drink last night? Not that it took much, but damn. I rubbed my temple and cringed as the swimming in my head began to settle—one more thing to blame on Phillip. I looked down, realizing I was naked, and was startled again by the rustling to my side. As I slowly turned my head toward the source of the disruption, my eyes widened, taking in the wide, expansive muscular back.

I quietly began to scoot toward the edge of the bed and winced from the twinge of pain coming from my backside. What the hell had he fucked me with? Christ on a cracker…my ass felt like it had been reamed, but good. I shook my head and continued to crawl over to the side of the massive bed. Probably another bartender, I thought as I finally made it to the edge. This happened every god damn time I drank. Why couldn’t I just leave a nice tip like a normal person? Honestly, Boone, do you really have to offer up your ass? Are you seriously that cheap? I reached back and rubbed my ass somewhat thankful I had no memory of last night considering it felt like this dude had seriously fucked the hell out of me.

Please let him have worn a condom,” I mumbled as I threw my feet over the side of the bed. I cringed as I looked down to see my foot had landed on a used rubber. I made some sort of ick noise as I lifted my foot, which now had the condom stuck to it.

“That is so not sexy.” I tentatively reached out, touching as little of the condom as humanly possible. I began pulling it off and closed my eyes, feeling the skin from the bottom of my foot peel away from the latex which I then tossed back onto the floor as a that’s-gross chill swept over my naked body. I looked around, disgusted and feeling all class as I took the edge of the sheet to wipe the sticky off the bottom of my foot.

I stood up too quickly feeling the bed move from behind me. My head was spinning a bit as I turned and looked down at the ass abuser that lay before me. He was massive, whoever he was. I imagined him being like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. He was now on his back and his hairless expanse of a chest was spread out before me. He practically requires his own zip code, I thought, as my gaze followed the sinewy trail of muscle down his abs. He was hot at least. I rubbed my head, desperately needing coffee and aspirin, while scolding myself for being the type of asshole that cared whether or not he was hot. I scanned the room trying to get my bearings. I spied my jeans on the floor which somehow made me feel less panicky.

I poked around the room and discovered that the bedroom was up in a loft which overlooked the living area below. I got slightly dizzy and nauseous as I peered over the railing. Knotty pine beams stretched out overhead and I caught a whiff of the fire below that was now probably nothing but embers. I felt a sudden chill and began to look around for the rest of my clothes. I spied a shoe and my briefs on the floor by the bureau.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I crossed the room and my mouth fell open. The back of my head looked as if someone had taken a comb and teased the shit out it. Spotting the huge-ass hickey on the curve between my neck and shoulder, I scowled and turned back to the bed. I was half tempted to chuck my shoe at him. Dirty bastard…all but branded my ass. My eyes widened as I quickly spun around, using the mirror, relieved to see there wasn’t a hickey on my ass.

I made a quick scan inspecting the rest of my body to make sure nothing else was…different. I gathered up all my things and crept naked down the stairs, clutching everything in my arms. A flash of the previous night popped into my head and I stopped, leaning against the railing for a moment for balance as I vaguely remembered clinging to Mr. Muscles while we made out, him carrying me up the stairs. I shook my head, feeling my cock stir a bit, almost able to remember what it felt like to have the guy’s tongue in my mouth. I let out a disapproving sigh, and continued down the stairs.

I stumbled into the living room, spotting my keys and cell phone on the coffee table next to two glasses, each of which had a tiny amount of red wine left in them. The room was decorated in what I assumed to be mountain-gay, bachelor-chic with its brown leather furniture, a solid-looking wooden rocking chair and dark mission style accent tables. It did feel lived in and homey, which was nice after Phillip’s sterile, everything-in-its-place condo.

The fireplace was massive, large stacked stones stretching up from the floor all the way up the two-story wall and disappearing into the ceiling. The five foot long mantle consisted of a long, thick, rough cut chunk of wood which was shiny from the multiple layers of varnish. I spied a flat screen through a cracked door in one the built-ins, on either side of the fireplace.

I smacked my lips, feeling the fuzz of drink and sex from the night before. God only knows what depraved acts I allowed myself to partake in with ‘the beast’. I experienced another achy-twinge in my ass as I meandered into the kitchen. I felt the texture and temperature change under my bare feet, going from the wood floors to the stone tile in the open kitchen and dining area. A picture window twice the size of the one upstairs in the bedroom provided another breath-taking view of the mountains which surrounded the valley below. I had to blink a few times in order to tear my eyes away, imagining I could become easily mesmerized by the sight, losing entire days—getting lost in the scale of it all. That was saying a lot, considering Albuquerque came with its own amazing views, thinking back to the warm, rusty-red glow of the Sandia Mountains baking in the late afternoon sun.

As my gaze ran over the gourmet looking kitchen with the smoky caramel stained cabinets and stone countertops which appeared to have tiny fossils imbedded in them, I paused at the professional grade looking stainless steel appliances. Maybe I’d fucked a chef and not a bartender for a change? That would be some type of progress. If given a dollar for every bartender I’d woken up with over the past thirteen years of my life, I’d be a rich man. The confusing thing was, I remembered the bartender from last night, unlike the man I’d found myself in bed with. Life really was a twisted bitch sometimes. I was jerked out of my inner thoughts hearing a noise come from upstairs.

I noticed a hallway off the back of the kitchen and headed that direction. I found a bathroom and took the longest piss of my life. It was one for the ages that piss, the kind that gave you chills and goose bumps all over your body from the relief of the release. I flushed the toilet before pulling on my briefs and jeans, then finally looking back over my hair as I yanked on my socks and boots. I turned on the faucet and did my best to dampen my scruffy, shoulder length, light brown hair back into some sort of submission. It was tangled all to hell, another reminder of what a good-time guy I was when I drank. They didn’t call me Low-Tolerance Tommy for nothing.

I usually don’t have alcohol unless my friends are around to try and keep me from doing things like this. Unfortunately I was up here in Colorado all by myself, thanks to Phillip. Happy one year anniversary, you cock sucking piece of man-shit. This was what I deserved for dating a surgeon. You think they’re all heroic, saving lives—making the big sacrifice. What I realized now was what a controlling, god-complex, piece of scum he was. Why do I never see it until it’s over?

I ran my fingertips over the hickey on my neck and let out a long sigh. Thinking back over the past year, there had been plenty of signs. Phillip never asked about me or my day. It was as if he never gave a shit who I was, only caring that I looked good on his arm and in his bed. That should’ve been the biggest clue. The fact that I’m a writer made him seem perfect. He worked long hours, which left me with tons of time to work. The sex was incredible. The vain god-complex worked for the son of a bitch, and his confidence in his abilities in the sack were well warranted. If nothing else good could be said about Phillip, he did have a can-do cock.

I laughed at my reflection in the mirror, thinking I’d actually convinced myself that Phillip had invited me up here, to the place we’d met a year ago yesterday, because he was going to ask me to move in with him.

“What a dumbass you are, Boone,” I said to myself, still worried in the back of my mind about why I hadn’t cried. Had I been broken-hearted so many times in the past that I’d now become desensitized to the pain of it? “Am I broken?”

I shrugged and picked up my t-shirt, flipping it inside out. Nope—Phillip sent me up here because he wanted to dump me, and the really sad part was that he didn’t have enough respect for me to do it face to face. He’d called instead, letting me know the cabin was paid up for another week and to stay as long as I liked. That he’d already dropped the few things I’d been allowed to leave at his house back off at mine and that my spare key was in the mail.

My response to what he’d said? “Thanks.”

I slipped on my shirt and went back out into the living room, trying to avoid the views from the large picture window. I snatched up my phone and dialed information, getting the number to call a cab. I scurried about when they asked where to pick me up, eventually snagging the address from the magazines piled up on the coffee table. I flipped through the stack as I hung up my cell. A Sports Illustrated, how butch, I thought. Funny that was on top…trying too hard, perhaps? That slightly critical thought brought a smile to my face. There was also an Advocate, an Entertainment Weekly, some skiing catalogues and a TV Guide. I read the name, which for some reason sounded familiar. Wade Walker.

I stood up and went back into Wade’s kitchen, rifling through the cabinets until I found a bottle of Advil. I poured out five and popped them in my mouth. I went to the sink and bent over, sucking in water directly from the stream coming out of the faucet. My eyes drifted toward that wonderful view. Whoever the big-dicked-mother-fucker Wade was, he was certainly lucky to have that view.

I wondered for a split second about the man sleeping upstairs. He was, if nothing else, strikingly handsome, sort of a more beefed version of Christopher Reeves with his wavy black hair and cheekbones to die for. I briefly considered the possibility of dating Superman and then rolled my eyes. I’d had enough drama in the past twenty four hours as it was.

“You just can’t seem to help yourself can you?” I mumbled. I loved men who were nothing like…me. My worst nightmare would be to end up marrying myself. I honestly couldn’t think of anything less exciting. I needed to be challenged, forced to look at things from other perspectives. I’m a writer damn it. I crave what I do not understand. And while I guess that always made for a very exciting love life, it had also been my very own little slice of hell at times.

Hearing a honk, I turned and dashed into the living room, snatching my things up off the table. I yanked my coat off the rack by the door and hurriedly slipped it on before yanking open the front door. I sucked in my breath, greeted not so gently by the cold as I tried to quietly close the door behind me. Catching some movement out of the corner of my eye coming from the top of the stairs, I panicked, slamming the door shut before running like mad for the cab. I was certainly in no mood, or condition, to face my alcohol induced mystery trick. I climbed into the cab and shut the door, asking the driver to take me back to the lodge. Back to the cabin Phillip had rented for us to spend our anniversary in. No more tricks for this kid, I thought, refusing to look back at the house as the cab pulled away.


As I slowly made my way down the walkway, struggling with the damn skis and poles, I cursed under my breath. This was stupid and I knew it. I’d never had the slightest interest in learning how to snow ski, but Phillip had insisted I learn. He’d set up these lessons and bought me all the gear and clothes, teaching me how to put it all on before I left. The sick part was he knew he was going to break up with me while he was doing it. I’d now come to the conclusion this was all part of my severance package, the trip, the gifts, the ski lessons. Phillip’s way of buying off his guilt I assumed, if he did indeed actually possess the humility for such an emotion.

I stopped, adjusting the skis in my arms. The army green pants I wore looked like normal old cargo pants, and I did like the matching parka with the faux-fur-trimmed hood. The warm snuggly layers of oatmeal colored shirts and sweaters, the ski boots—it had all cost him like nine or ten thousand dollars. It was nuts, a ludicrous amount of money, but if nothing else, at least I looked the part. I planned on selling it all on eBay when I got back home. Maybe I could use the money to buy myself a second vacation on a beach somewhere?

I looked up as a couple passed by me coming from the opposite direction. They barely noticed my presence as they giggled and stared at one another all googly-eyed, his dimpled smile and rosy cheeks, her long perky blonde curls bouncing. It was disgusting! I resisted the urge to call back at them, informing the ill-fated lovers it would never last, that their happiness was fleeting. The harbinger of love-death would soon be upon them! It made me smile to think it, even though I didn’t say it.

I lifted my skis, tucked them under my arm and continued walking toward the main lodge. The massive five-story building, with its new European-style architecture, seemed well matched to the natural environment. Despite being newer construction, the lodge seemed to fit in perfectly with the sleepy little Victorian mountain town that was Summit City. It had sixty or seventy rooms in the main lodge along with the smaller single occupancy chalets that dotted the grounds for those people, like Phillip, who enjoyed their privacy. Whoever designed the place had done a great job of taking advantage of all the views. There were two towers on the main lodge on opposite corners, one provided views of the valley and town below, the other of the mountain. I rounded the side of the lodge to find other guests and attendants, all busying about going to and from, while twisting the knife in my gut by laughing and having a grand old time.

“The tram should be back around any minute,” a young man called out to me from the entrance area.

I nodded and smiled, contemplating whether or not I should just walk up the road to the ski lift area. It wasn’t that far, and despite still feeling a smidge funky from my hangover when I’d left the cabin, the cool air and exercise appeared to be doing the trick. As I started to step off the curb the small tram rounded the corner. Already late for my lesson as it was, I decided to hop on and ride up after all.

As the glorified tractor/trolley bounced up the slight incline of the road, I let out a sigh. I knew exactly why I wasn’t all that upset about Phillip breaking things off, but I refused to admit it to myself. It seemed wrong to let the prick off the hook for the shitty way he dumped me. But I had indeed, come to realize that I hadn’t actually been in love with the man so much as the idea of him. What a waste of a year, I thought as the tram came to a stop at the ski lift area.

I hopped out, back into the snow and slid my skis and poles out, fighting with them as I tried to gain control with my uncoordinated limbs. This was a bad idea, and I knew it, but I’d spent all morning and my entire lunch trying to piece together what the hell had happened the night before. I’d driven myself crazy attempting to suss it out. So, despite having no interest in skiing, here I was. I needed a distraction from the gnawing nit-pickiness that was my over active brain. Skiing was one of those sports that looked easy, therefore I knew it was going to be ridiculously difficult to learn.

I finally started crunching my way through the snow and headed up to the ski shack to figure out where the hell I was supposed to be. I felt the scowl take over my face as my brain forced me back over the events I could remember from the night before. I hated losing time, so to speak, despite thinking it might be my subconscious way of removing any and all memories of my inner-drunken-sluttiness.

Apparently I had no issues being a man-whore so long as I could remember it.

I remembered the cab ride from the lodge down into the town. It hadn’t been my intention to drink, I just felt like being around people. After Phillip called and dropped the axe on our relationship, that intimate, luxurious cabin, which up ‘til then had felt romantic and dreamy, suddenly made me feel desolate and very much alone. I knew trying to write in my stunned capacity was pointless, so down the mountain I went in search of the comfort that only the closeness of strangers could provide.

The heat in the taxi hadn’t seemed to be working, so by the time I made it into the small pub called Staggs, I felt like a little gay-cicle. It was warm and cozy inside, the rolling and crackling fire, amber hazy lighting, and the chatter and laughter of the other patrons was pretty much the shot in the arm I’d needed. I sat down at the dark wood bar which was a square sitting in the middle of the room with tables spreading out like satellites as if orbiting around it. I immediately felt as though I’d been given a hug…it put a huge smile on my face as one of the two guys behind the bar came to greet me.

“Nice to see a smiling face,” he said, wiping the top of the bar in front of me. “You look a little frozen.”

I felt my smile fade, wishing he hadn’t drawn attention to it. Hello…supposed to be in mourning, dude! “Bitterly cold,” I got out, going through that odd state that was somewhere between freezing and warmth. When your cheeks began to feel hot but your teeth were still slightly chattering.

“How ’bout something hot,” the cutie asked as I did a double take noticing the other guy behind the bar was an identical twin. “I’m Chip.” He extended a hand across the bar. “My brother, Dean,” he added with a backward nod as if he felt I might actually need that type of clarification.

I laughed a little, shaking my head and raising an eyebrow. “Boone.” I took his hand and shook, taking note of the way his thumb lightly grazed the back of my hand. He winked and smiled devilishly before letting go, resting his hands on the edge of the bar.

I immediately inventoried his dimpled-cuteness as I smiled back. He had short hair, spiked up a bit into a point on top. Obviously the trendier of the two, he was in one of those form fitting t-shirts that looked as if it had an elaborate giant tattoo imprinted on it. His thermal underwear sticking out of the short sleeves, it fit snuggly enough to show off his tight little body. He was a little on the short side…compact, wearing low-rise jeans which showcased a nice bubble butt. Chip’s twin was wearing un-tucked flannel and jeans…either very straight or very lazy. Not in the door five minutes and already being hit on. Not bad Boone, not bad at all.

“An Irish coffee will warm you right up.”

I hadn’t realized Ireland grew coffee beans, but the combo of heat and caffeine sounded heavenly. “Sounds great, I’ll give it a try.” Take that, Juan Valdez, I thought, chuckling a bit figuring I was about to have the worst cup of coffee ever.

As Chip went off to get my coffee I thought about the state of my affairs. All in all my life was pretty cushy. I’d written seven novels…well started seven novels I should say. For some reason I couldn’t ever seem to finish them, but I kept plugging away at it, beginning a new one each time I’d get stuck on the last one. Someday I knew I’d finish them. I just needed—something.

I’d had an uncle who’d been an architect, my Mom’s brother. They were best friends, he was older than she, always looked out for her. I think Mom actually loved him more than she did my Dad. Uncle Barry had been killed in a car wreck my freshman year at University. He’d left me his estate, which consisted of a small thirteen hundred square foot remodeled Pueblo-style bungalow that he’d restored himself, and a BMW which I still drive to this day. It, of course, now appeared to be more rust than metal, teetering on the brink of falling to pieces from the next strong breeze. There had also been enough money to pay off said home and car, with plenty left over to afford college. Mom always thought Uncle Barry did it for her, but deep down, I knew he did it realizing he and I were each another type of family. His boyfriend had died with him in the crash. It was all very sad, although as sick as it sounded, I was a little glad he hadn’t been alone in those final moments. Somehow that made it seem less horrible.

I held a part time job working in medical records for the local hospital, which paid enough to cover my base living expenses and allowed me the luxury of writing books I couldn’t finish, while not having to worry about living on the streets. Worse than anything, was the knowledge I now had to go back home and see Phillip on a regular basis at work. I thought it was like fate or something, considering we met each other on vacation in Colorado, despite both living in the same city and working in the same hospital. My Dad had always told me not to shit where I eat. I was now seriously wishing I’d listened.

I felt a heat pass over my body and sort of wiggled on my bar stool. It was strange, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I was beginning to suspect something paranormal had just occurred when I looked around the room. That was the first time I saw him, the man who would be cast in the role of ass-abusing-trick before the evening had ended…aka Wade the man-wall. He was sitting across the bar in a booth next to the fire place. He was staring at me with a look that was unmistakable. Eyes full of wanton-lusty goodness. I noticed that it was difficult to swallow as I forced my gaze away from his. I exhaled, feeling my nipples constrict and my cock already reacting. I felt naked, unable to move as if I’d been pinned down to the stool, and if nothing else, my body was lovin’ it.

I jumped a little as Chip sat the coffee mug down in front of me. It had what looked like whipped cream floating on the top. I looked up and smiled weakly, still attempting to catch my breath.

“You don’t really want that,” Chip stated in a slightly pleading tone.

“Huh?” I was hoping he wasn’t referring to what I assumed he was.

“It’s just so…stereotypical.” He smiled with an orneriness that was adorable. “The big, hunky, muscled, über-hetero acting gay man? Really…you’re that guy?”

I felt my face burn slightly as I laughed. “And what would you suggest as an alternative?” I took a sip of my Irish coffee and nearly choked as I swallowed feeling the burn of the coffee mixed with the burn of the alcohol. “Good Christ, my hell!” Chip placed his elbows on the bar and folded his arms as my eyes began to water.

“Good?” he asked with a wink as I realized it wasn’t the coffee beans that made it Irish…it was the whisky.

“That’s some strong coffee.” I took a deep breath and looked down at the cup. “Fuck me.”

“If that was an offer then the answer is yes.” Chip gave me a half smile and looked into my eyes dreamily.

I smiled and took another sip, thinking Chip was downright adorable and feeling the alcohol and heat begin to make my brain all tingly. “So you’re offering yourself up as a willing sacrifice to keep me from making the biggest mistake of my life by bedding down the muscle-that-hustles over there?”

“I just think you need to really consider the alternatives.” Chip said, licking his full lips. “You could go with the glittery-chrome, all-American muscle car.” He motioned with his head toward his now perceived competition. “Or you could try something different…the unexpected choice if you will, by selecting the compact, yet much more fun and sporty convertible.”

All these automobile references were really making me wish I could afford a new car. “Fun and sporty is looking pretty damn good at the moment.” I took another sip, acclimating to the burn and watching Chip’s smile stretch widely, showing off his boyish grin.

He stood up straight and shot me a wink. “That long hair of yours is hot as hell.”

With that he moved on to the person a few seats down and took their drink order. That was where my memory began to get fuzzy. I vaguely remembered more flirting with Chip, and I’m pretty sure the all-American muscle car did at some point end up on the bar stool next to me. I think I remembered him laughing, a deep laugh, and maybe a few barbs back and forth between him and Chip?


I entered the ski shack, which was actually a very nice winter sporting-complex where you could rent snowmobiles, skis, snow boards, basically where you could fill any and all of your snow-related merchandising needs. I stumbled up to the desk and waited patiently in line behind two other people, finally getting some face time with the hot little red head that seemed to be in control of Winter World. She smiled at me in what felt like a forced attempt at ‘customer friendly’ and I was momentarily caught up in her skin. It was the creamiest powdered porcelain I’d ever seen, slightly brushed with a soft pink hue over the cheeks.

“Name please,” she said, in a voice that was one octave away from seeming cartoony.

“Boone Daniels.” I smiled my own version of faux-happy back at her.


I felt my eyes roll, though I hadn’t intended on doing it. Let’s just say I knew where she was going, and it wasn’t the first time this record had been played in my thirty three years on this earth.

“Sorry.” She smiled, cheeks reddening up, having obviously taken note of my irritation. “Guess you’ve probably heard plenty of Daniel Boone cracks, huh?”

I smiled to let her know I had indeed. Having glanced down to see that her name was Candy, I also felt she really had no room to cast any stones with names on them.

“Let’s see.” She clicked on her keyboard, and grinned. “Oh, well you’re a bit late, but let me page your instructor.” She quickly snatched up a phone and punched in some numbers before placing it back down on its cradle. “You have the absolute best instructor.”

“Of course I do,” I mumbled, though apparently not low enough as Candy seemed to overhear me due to the changed expression on her face. Phillip would in no way scrimp when it came to my severance package. I’d have the best his money could buy.

“He doesn’t really appreciate people being late, so when he mentions it, please ignore him. He’s all gruff and no bite—I promise.”

Great. I should just leave now. All I needed was some prick crawling up my already sore ass all afternoon as I tried in vain to stay upright. I eyed the skis thinking how frickin’ tired of lugging the stupid things around I was. I attempted to adjust the skis and pole thingies in my arms.

“Is this him?” I heard from a gruff voice behind me.

“He’s your two o’clock,” Candy said.

“You’re late.”

I began rolling my eyes as I spun around, mouth falling open as I saw Super Wade standing before me with what was at first a grimace, which quickly morphed into a slight smile as he adjusted his body, standing up straight. He resembled some type of skiing superhero in his bright red ski pants and parka. He was looking me up and down in what was unmistakably an ‘I know what you look like naked’ way. I immediately spun back around to face Candy, feeling my skin burn and the muscles in my ass twitch.

“Son of a…”

Reviews by Amos Lassen says—
“a wonderful little diversion—makes you smile but also makes you laugh out loud. We do not get too many of those.”
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5 Stars from Two Lips Reviews
“a delightful read”
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5 Stars from Hearts on Fire Reviews
“a wonderfully funny and romantic book – a totally engrossing read”
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4.75 Stars from Joyfully Jay Reviews
“I loved this story and thought it was great fun.”
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4.75 Stars from Reviews by Jessewave
“There is so much to enjoy in this book – a rollicking romantic comedy as only Ethan Day can write it”
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4.5 Nymphs from the Literary Nymphs
“a humorous first person commentary of the night before events”
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4 Stars from Gay Book Reviews
“This was my first book by author Ethan Day and I loved the snarky sense of humor infused throughout the book.”
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4 Stars from Gay Book Reviews
“Ethan Day continues to infuse humor and snark throughout the book making this for a fun follow up and entertaining read.”
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3.5 Stars from Love Bytes Reviews
“I did like this book, it’s fun and silly. I like Boone and Wade, they are so different but work very well together.”
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Elisa Rolle says
“the main aspect of Ethan Day’s story it’s the lightness and the “chic” atmosphere”
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