Book Title: This or That
Author: Hope Irving
Publisher: Self-published
Cover Artist: Simon Franklin
Release Date: June 3, 2021
Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance; Bi Romance
Tropes: Enemies-to-lovers, gay for you, bi-awakening
Themes: Coming out, forgiveness, acceptance (self, family, friends), trust, friendship
Length: 54 000 words / 200 pages
It is a standalone story. The main characters are secondary characters from another one of my books, Omega Artist (A Cocky Hero Club novel) that takes place later. Omega Artist is a contemporary M/F romance. Both can be read as standalone novels.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Sometimes, a kiss can knock you out faster than a blow to the head, rendering you unable to think straight.
Blurb
Sometimes, a kiss can knock you out faster than a blow to the head, rendering you unable to think straight.
When drunken Michael Clayton stole a sloppy kiss in a Parisian club, he didn’t know that this would mean war. War, as in being taught a lesson by a shameless cowboy. War, as in being given a taste of his own medicine. War, as in being left dumbfounded and yearning for more. Blame it on the alcohol, right? Damn, Mike hated the guy for muddling his assumed straight orientation and raising unwelcome questions.
When noble Troy Hunter stole a revenge kiss from a despicable hot playboy, he didn’t know that it would be all but forgotten months later. Landing a gig on a Rio-bound cruise ship, the rising DJ is dazed when Mike strikes back with a vengeance during their second encounter, fueling his appetite for dominance. Blame it on the blazing sun, right? Damn, Troy hates the guy for pushing all of his buttons and rubbing salt in old wounds.
It shouldn’t have happened, but now all bets are off. Their feelings quickly escalate into something that they aren’t willing to label. It’s easier this way, until it isn’t… because life’s no cruise and some experiences are life-altering. Between Troy’s painful past and Mike’s unsettling present, their future together might be short-lived, unless their insane chemistry compels them to push their limits and each other. So, which is it? This or that?
This or That was previously part of a charity anthology entitled Anyone But You; it was originally published in early 2021. Since then, I’ve added new content, including a bonus epilogue! Same enemies-to-lovers storyline. Same hot and sweet characters. More focus on certain scenes. Discover or rediscover Mike and Troy’s story…
If you’ve read Omega Artist (A Cocky Hero Club novel), this is your chance to see how it all started for two familiar faces that you only briefly met since This or That is a standalone prequel.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I joke, letting go of clingy Mallory. The weight of her stare doesn’t escape me, and I incline my head to insinuate that she shouldn’t stick around. The perceptive girl complies; from our brief time together, she knows better than to argue.
Good! This is between Channing and me.
My brow quirks. “Small world, huh?” I taunt. Welcoming the breeze after spending hours on stage, I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my denim jacket.
The rest of the world, no matter how small, ceases to exist. Simply because what are the odds, right?
Should I be grateful or resentful at the trick that the universe is playing on us? Taking him in, I decide on the former. The guy’s as gorgeous as I remember. My attention is drawn to his sensual lips, and his green eyes bore into mine. The tip of his tongue darts out, licking his plump lower lip. Transfixed, I’m hurtled back to the club where I kissed him months ago. The taste. The softness. The fervor. He resisted, then leaned into the kiss that I stole from him. With that, my neck stiffens and so does my shaft.
Great!
Now I’m sporting a semi while ogling this beautiful stranger from the past. I can’t deny that his handsome face is part of the appeal and probably why I continue to be affected after all this time. Seeing him in the flesh, I’m swamped with a surge of conflicted sensations. I don’t believe in signs, but I’m an opportunist. It’s what landed me on this ship; I might as well take advantage of it.
It’s time to put some distance between us and the dancing zombies, bopping in unison to a recording that I put on during my break. Do they even care that I’m not live on stage?
For now, I couldn’t care less. I’m not sure what I want from him, but I refuse to let him escape quite yet. We have some sort of unfinished business to attend to. Pent-up anger. Maybe I’d like him to own up to acting like a jerk. Conflicted feelings. Maybe I’d like to kiss him again to flush him out of my system. Sinful thoughts. Maybe I’d like him to confess to enjoying the kiss as much as I did.
“We need to talk.” My tone is adamant, and I snatch his elbow to escort him away from the crowd. I expect him to refuse or argue, but he does neither; maybe he does want to say his piece. His longer legs give the false impression that he’s leading when I’m guiding the way. Entertained by how compliant Channing is, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my big mouth shut. He grunts, which boosts my
horniness. I try to remain calm. He needs to come to terms with the situation by the time that we reach my destination of choice.
A fleeting thought makes me question his sexual orientation; maybe he hit on Anna because he was drunk or closeted. For all I know, he may very well be bi because I clearly affect him, which pleases me immensely. My throat is parched as I debate where to begin. Passing the bar, he stops, guzzles his beverage in record time, and deposits the empty cup on the counter.
His eyes focus on the ground when he asks in a shaky voice, “Where to?” He looks both lost and determined. There’s something about him that intrigues me, and I’m not talking about his lips that glisten with whatever quenched his thirst. Something I felt in Paris, although his attitude had been less than honorable.
Curious, I behave myself and tilt my head in the direction of a relatively secluded corner. High on our proximity, I once again ignore the rush of warmth that unfurls in my chest. My breathing becomes progressively more ragged. I don’t give a shit if he calls me out on it.
“So?” he says simply, turning to face me, remaining a safe distance from the wall. His jaw clenches, and he crosses his muscular arms over his chest in defiance.
Or protection?
Speechless, I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding while I witness the utter confusion flash across his gorgeous face. “I won’t apologize,” I blurt.
One second, he’s shooting daggers, and the next, his pupils dilate; drugs have nothing to do with it.
So much for keeping your emotions at bay, pretty boy!
Hope Irving lives in Paris, France, with her supportive husband and creative teenage daughter. The French indie author spent a couple of years in Texas, where she earned her MBA. With many friends, relatives, and readers in the States, the US has a big place in her heart. Although French is her mother tongue, she chose to write her novels in English because it simply feels right for her characters. Hope’s suspenseful and complex love stories are modern fairytales that feature an unconventional Prince Charming and a headstrong heroine. A natural introvert, she enjoys tormenting her flawed characters with a hint of darkness and sometimes magical elements. Still, her heart melts when love conquers all. Her work has been described as “genre-defying,” “refreshingly unique,” and “an emotional rollercoaster read.”
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