A warm welcome to author A.D Ellis joining us today to talk about new release “Take Me Home”.

Blurb:

Can a city boy survive exile to a small town? Will falling for a hot, older country boy make the situation better or worse?

Marc Kingsley is the best in his big-city family business. When a medical issue gets Marc temporarily banished to a tiny country town, he’s certain the experience will be a nightmare.

Jordan Moore is living the dream on his farm. When his best friend’s grandson begrudgingly comes to town, Jordan’s simple life gets turned upside down.

Can Marc and Jordan find a brief, shared happiness even when they’ve accepted they’ll eventually have to walk away? Or will both men end up nursing broken hearts?

Take Me Home is a male/male age-gap, opposites-attract romance with plenty of steam and a scene that will make you appreciate camouflage and work boots.

Buy Link:

Amazon

Chapter 1

Marcus Kingsley

The place was a total dive, but I figured I was better off there than in my new—very temporary—town of residence. The problem with your family owning a tiny country town named after them was the total lack of anonymity.

Not that anyone in Kingsley actually knew me. But they would soon enough. Hell, Gran was probably at the local bar, Darts, Balls, and Beer—classy and creative—

at that very moment telling her crew all about me coming to stay. How that woman ever made it in the city with Gramps was beyond me; she was a country girl through-and-through.

Coming to Kingsley was not my idea, and I was having a bit of trouble coming to terms with my new habitat. So, I’d given Gran a hug, tossed my luggage into my new room at the Kingsley Bed and Breakfast, and told her I needed to get some air.

I’d driven forty-five minutes away to a slightly—very slightly—bigger and better establishment. My hopes of an anonymous quickie had dimmed a fraction when I walked in, but I wasn’t one to give up without a fight. The large circle of social acquaintances I had back in the city—I didn’t actually have many friends other than my sister, Marissa, and maybe a couple people I was friendly with at work—knew that once I set my mind to finding a man to warm my bed, I wouldn’t be going home alone. Totally metaphorically, of course. I never took a hookup home with me. That’s what luxurious hotel rooms were for.

I sipped my extremely domestic beer and mourned the fact that no one within a fifty-mile radius seemed to know the blessed glory of an import. Glancing around the bar, I recognized that the usual twinks who flocked to me in the city were noticeably missing from the night’s crowd of locals. Not all that surprising; in a Midwestern small town, I didn’t expect to find a lot of open acceptance for flashy, beautiful twinks.

Even the aloof, slick closet cases who always seemed to find me an intriguing challenge were absent from the crowd. Again, not surprising. The neighboring town of Shilesville where I’d found myself that night likely wasn’t a mecca for rich, ladder-climbing entrepreneurs.

No, on my first full night in and near Kingsley—tiniest of tiny Midwestern towns; seriously, blink and you’d miss it—I was surrounded by mostly young farmer looking types, a couple flirty women, and old men gathered around a table drinking frothy beer and talking about the good old days.

Ugh.

Gay bars in the city were so much easier. At least there I almost always knew a wink or a long glance or a lift of the chin meant something.

Here? A Shilesville or Kingsley wink or long glance or lift of the chin could mean anything. I knew I looked out of place. Surrounded by an overabundance of camo—really, any amount of camo was too much—flannel, and work boots, my dress pants, dress shirt, and dress shoes definitely stood out like a sore thumb. In my defense, I’d left for Kingsley straight from work—and I really didn’t have any clothing that would have fit in anyway. Which was something I very likely needed to remedy as soon as possible. Pretty sure helping Gran run a bed and breakfast called for clothes that were decidedly not business attire—at least not the type of business clothes I owned.

Did all the patrons wonder who I was? Just some city slicker stopping by for a beer before traveling to the next flashy, luxurious destination? Or maybe the long glances were the result of me pinging a few homophobic radars?

Either way, I wasn’t going back to Kingsley just yet. Even without a hookup, I needed a break and time to clear my head.

I scoffed into my beer. A break?

Hell, I’d been in Kingsley less than twenty-four hours—actually less than six hours—and I already needed a break?

Fuck. That didn’t bode well for the next three months.

Three months.

It was only three months.

Double fuck.

Thank God I loved my Gran to the moon and back. Without my love and devotion for her, I probably would have already flown the coop. To where? I had no clue. Not like I could go back to Rockhurst. My apartment and job were in Rockhurst, but so were my father and Gramps. And Doctor Barret.

Gran, Gramps, and my father—how that asshole came from two amazing people I’d never know—had heard every word Doctor Barret, our family doctor and their close friend, had said about my health and immediately banished me to Kingsley.

Overworked.

Stressed.

Exhaustion.

Anxiety.

Working himself to death.

Doctor Barret hadn’t held anything back in his assessment of my health—the appointment wasn’t my idea, I was forced to attend—and his following summary of my health to my family didn’t paint a pretty picture. Unfortunately, the whole crew had been in my office when I called Doc back to clarify a few things from the appointment. I’d thought maybe he’d tell me to get some more sleep and prescribe me a pill.

But, no. Not even close.

Doctor Barret said two months away from my high-stress sales management position. Dad had thrown a disgusted and disappointed glance my way and returned to his office. Gramps and Gran had glommed onto the idea and assured the doctor that I would get two full months away from Rockhurst and the stress of my job.

Two. Fucking. Months.

Gramps had assured me my bills and apartment would be covered despite my extended absence from work. I appreciated that. I had no wish to lose my glamorous apartment. But what in the hell was I going to do with myself if I wasn’t at work twelve hours a day?

I wasn’t given a warning or time to adjust to the sentencing. The day of my doctor visit, I went back to work to finish the day, but Gramps told me to gather my things and go home. Gran was already headed to Kingsley and expected me there within a day.

When my dear sister came to me in tears right before I left to let me know she’d screwed up big time, I assured her I’d take the blame and keep the heat off her. After all, I wasn’t going to be there to get berated by my father. I swear, that man spent most of my life letting me know I was a colossal disappointment.

Maybe my father was right, maybe I was a complete idiot, because I certainly hadn’t thought about how badly covering for Marissa would backfire.

“Marcus,” Gramps had placed a strong but loving hand on my shoulder, “let’s make it three months just for good measure. Within that time, we’ll have your mistake cleared up, your dad will move on to being pissed at something else, and you’ll have had a relaxing three months with Gran.” He smiled. “She’s looking so forward to your help and your company. I gotta tell you that I’m grateful you’ll be there to help her. She still tries to do it all, but she’s not as young as she once was. Knowing you’re there will help ease my worry.”

While my mind whirled and my gut churned, I couldn’t help but smile fondly at the mention of Gran. She had spent forty years—my entire life plus another decade—running a seasonal bed and breakfast in her namesake town of Kingsley. Sure, the town was originally owned by and named after Gramps’ grandparents and then his parents, but it was every bit as much Gran’s town now.

“I seriously can’t fathom how you’ve never been to Kingsley,” Gramps muttered as we strode toward the bank of elevators. Our family business, Kingsley Sales and Logistics, took up the entire twenty-third floor and I couldn’t believe I’d be gone from the place for three months.

Three. Fucking. Months.

“In thirty years, you’ve never gone to Kingsley even once?” Gramps continued.

“It’s open March through September, right?” By it, I referred to the bed and breakfast. The town was obviously open and inhabited year-round for the most part.

Gramps nodded as the elevator opened.

“Spring was school, theater, and tennis. Summer was life guarding and interning. Fall was school and cross country. Then I was off to college. Never had time.” I shrugged. Dad had been sure to keep me as busy as possible in hopes of normalizing me.

“But as a child? You never wanted to go with Marissa? She spent so much time in Kingsley. I guess I’m as bad as your father for not realizing you never went to visit.” Gramps paused at the building exit.

“First, you are nothing like him.” I shook my head. “Marissa was an introvert and book worm. I had a social life by the age of eight—even though it was forced on me. Before that, Mom and Dad were likely too busy screaming and hating each other to think I might want to go. Besides, I’ve never been one for a nature-filled, laid-back lifestyle.” I wrinkled my nose. “Dad probably thought a BnB would make me even more gay, so he kept me busy with sports and socializing with his business partners’ kids.”

I’d been different—and known it—since a very young age. Despite my father doing his best to make me normal, I’d always embraced my true self and never hid who I was.

“Well, Gran is beside herself to get all this time with just you.” Gramps pulled me into a hug—he never had fit the image of a business tycoon—and patted me on the back. “You rest and take it easy. This will all be here if and when you decide to come back.”

“If?!” I’d squeaked, causing Gramps to chuckle. “Oh, I’m coming back. I’ll be ready to scratch my eyes out just for something to do by the time three months is over. Probably by the time three days are over,” I assured. “You know I don’t do downtime well.”

Gramps hummed. “Kingsley has a way of changing a person. You never know.”

“Yeah, by making them die of boredom. I’m a city boy through-and-through; there’s no way I’m not coming back,” I said.

“Don’t be afraid to like the place.”

“If it’s so great, why didn’t you stay?” I pushed.

“I don’t trust your father to treat my employees right,” Gramps answered with no hesitation. “If your Gran wanted to move there permanently, I’d pack my bags, work remotely, visit the city and office as needed, and never look back.”

My eyes widened in response. “Really? You like Kingsley that much?”

He nodded. “I do. It gets in your blood; good for the heart and soul.”

I’d never really known Gramps felt that way. “Well, Rockhurst is in my blood and this city boy is coming back after his three-month banishment.”

Gramps had just nodded with a slight smile and gave me a wave as I’d headed out.

“You one of those beer readers or something?” a voice to my left pulled me from the memory.

“Huh?” I grunted as I turned to take in the hottest man in the bar—possibly one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. If you liked the rugged farmer type. Which I usually did not find myself attracted to, but this man was gorgeous with a kind smile to boot.

“Like a person reads tea leaves? Just wondered if you read beer. You were staring pretty intently into your mug for a long time; thought maybe you saw something in there.” Hot country boy’s kind smile hinted at something close to devastating. No, boy was the wrong word. Man. He was at least ten years older than me—evident by the laugh lines around his eyes and the slight silver in his chestnut hair—but his gleaming chocolate brown eyes and killer smile made him appear younger. He was just slightly taller than me, broader in the chest, but we shared a long, leanly muscled build.

“Nah, just lost in thought,” I said.

Country boy gave a slight nod, his eyes meeting mine over his bottle of beer as he took a long swallow. When he shifted to lean against the bar and his elbow lightly brushed my arm, I took action—and prayed that interested translated in the country the same as it did in the city.

“You want to tell me your name and kill some time over a beer,” I asked in a low voice, “or are we gonna keep our names to ourselves and get out of here?”

For one fleeting moment, as a look of shock crossed his face, I worried I’d overstepped and read the situation completely wrong. But then he schooled his features, drained the rest of his beer, and gave me a nod.

“I’d prefer to keep the names and get out of here,” he said with a wink.

I tossed a bill down on the bar that would cover my two beers and a hefty tip. “Let’s go.”

When we reached the parking lot, I had to laugh at the line-up of vehicles. “I guess you can tell which one is mine.” I indicated to the lone car in a sea of big pick-up trucks.

Country boy chuckled. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”

I shook my head. “You live here?”

“Close enough,” he answered. “We can take my truck.” He gestured toward a shiny black Chevy Silverado.

I gave a nod and walked to the passenger side. Briefly, I thought of how different this was for me. Usually I was driving. Usually I took the guy to a hotel. Usually I got fucked and then left. But I shook the thoughts away. I was in a new place. No fancy hotels to go to. I’d have to trust country boy to get us where we were going. Trust. That word bounced in my head for a moment as I glanced toward him. Yeah, for some reason, I automatically trusted the man. Which was strange because I was often leery of new people. But I had a good read on people in my line of work, so I’d learned to trust my gut.

“I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of accommodations out this way?” I asked.

“No,” he answered with an easy smile. “But I know a place.”

We drove in a comfortable silence for a while.

“You pick guys up at that bar often?” I asked.

Country boy smiled, shyly this time, and shook his head. “No. I usually go a few towns farther away. There are some gay bars around—not many, but a couple. Honestly, I was just driving through tonight and wanted a beer before I went home. Saw you and something told me to say hello.”

“Well, for a split second, I thought I’d totally blown it. Hookups in the city are a lot easier to read.” I watched the trees, bathed in a soft glow from the full moon, rush by as the truck drove away from the bar. And away from my car. “You’re not taking me out in the middle of nowhere to kill me, are you?” I joked with only the slightest tinge of real nervousness.

Country boy threw his head back and laughed. “You caught me. I’m a farmer by day and a serial killer by night.”

A.D. Ellis is an Indiana girl, born and raised. She spends much of her time in central Indiana as an instructional coach/teacher in the inner city of Indianapolis, being a mom to two amazing school-aged children, and wondering how she and her husband of almost two decades have managed to not drive each other insane. A lot of her time is also devoted to phone call avoidance and her hatred of cooking.

She loves chocolate, wine with friends, pizza, crocheting and naps along with reading and writing romance. These loves don’t leave much time for housework, much to the chagrin of her husband. Who would pick cleaning the house over a nap or a good book? She uses any extra time to increase her fluency in sarcasm.

Find all of Ellis’ contemporary romance and male/male romance at www.adellisauthor.com

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