Bewitched by the Barista By Jason Wrench
Book 2 in the Up on the Farm series
General Release Date: 27th September 2022
Word Count: 74,034
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 282
Genres:
CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI
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Book Description
Finding love and coffee in the unlikeliest of places…
After finding him in bed with another man, Roger Havemeyer needs to escape his life and his ex. Dale Devereux, an old friend of his now lives up near Woodstock with his boyfriend Talgat. After visiting Dale and Talgat one weekend, Roger decides a change of scenery may be just what he needs. Roger’s job as a marketing executive allows him to work remotely now, so he puts in an offer on a house. One evening, while deleting a slew of emails, he accidentally clicks on a link to a website called CammBate. Not familiar with the website, he finds himself really drawn to one of the young models, which surprises him, since he rarely likes younger guys.
Wesley Phelps is a twenty-year-old college student paying his way through college. He has a small apartment that he shares with his best friend. A friend of his told him that with his good looks, he could make a lot of money on CammBate, so he started performing. Even as the money starts rolling in from his online sex work, he keeps his job as a part-time barista at the local coffee shop, Java Junkie Café & Roastery.
After closing the deal on his house, Roger walks into Java Junkie Café & Roastery and almost has a heart attack when he recognizes Wes. Of course, Roger is used to their ‘relationship’ being completely one-sided. Wes finds himself drawn to the attractive forty-year-old but isn’t even sure if the older man knows he’s alive.
Roger and Wes must work to get past their twenty-year age gap, and Roger also must learn how to cope with Wes’ jobs…both of them.
Reader advisory: This book features online sex performance.
Light from the corner of the window poked into my room and crossed my face. I’d shut the blackout curtains, but a sliver of sun poked through and hit me right in the eyes. I groaned a little. I wasn’t exactly hungover, but that didn’t mean I was in a good place. It’s moments like these—as I threw back the covers and slung my legs over the edge of the bed—when I realize how old I feel. My lower back aches, my neck aches and my mind is screaming to dive back under the covers. I forced myself to stand, then walked the few short steps into the bathroom as my bladder called.
After washing my hands, I headed back into the room. Walking over to the window, I pulled back the curtain to peek outside and see what the morning looked like. There was a nice coat of white covering the city outside—not enough to make it dangerous, but just enough to make it look pretty. I hoped it would all be gone by noon. I wasn’t in the mood for pretty. I knew I sounded like a jaded old Scrooge, but since three Christmas spirits hadn’t visited me in the night, I figured I could be cantankerous today. I closed the curtain, slipped back into bed and went back to sleep. It wasn’t exactly like I had plans.
I woke up again around eleven and felt even sorer than I had the first time. This time when I got out of bed, relieved myself and looked out of the window, most of the snow had already melted. It was still quiet outside. I did the healthy thing and decided to go for a run. I’m not what you would call an avid runner. I’m not one of those guys who’s like ‘look at me and my runner’s high’. I’m one of those guys who goes for a run only because I know that without them, my body will call it kaput when I turn sixty.
I put on my new jogging attire, a sleek Under Armour number from head to toe. I grabbed my iPhone and AirPods. Thankfully, I’d plugged in the phone the past night when I’d gotten to my hotel room. I slipped a single credit card and my hotel key into the zip-up pocket inside my shorts before stepping out into the hall. I walked to the elevator and was glad no one was out and about on my floor, because I wasn’t yet in the mood to plaster on the fake smile.
The elevator dinged as the door slid open. There was a lone guy, who looked like he might be a custodian, standing in the back corner. He looked up, nodded his head and went back to playing with his phone. I stood in the opposite corner and did the same.
I had several text messages from Jeremy. They had started off apologetic.
I’m so sorry. I love you. I won’t ever do it again.
That one had been sent almost immediately after I’d left the apartment. As the evening had gone on, the messages had turned to denial.
I have nothing to be sorry about. I’m a gay man with needs. Anyway, let me know you’re okay.
By the time I’d already passed out, the texts had become belligerent.
Go fuck your sanctimonious self. If there’s anyone to blame for all this, it’s you.
The last text was from twenty minutes before.
Heading over to my parents for Christmas. You still joining me?
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grumbled.
“Excuse me?” the custodian asked, glancing in my direction.
“Sorry,” I stammered. “Dealing with the idiocy of my soon-to-be-ex.”
“Oh,” the guy said as he raised his eyebrows. Apparently, that’s all he needed to hear.
The elevator door dinged again, and I exited the elevator into the lobby. I took the stairs to the street level, where the doorman on duty stood wearing a cap and a full-length black wool coat. He looked at me in my jogger’s getup and shook his head.
I nodded and gave him a half-smile as I headed outside. I fiddled with my iPhone for a second before turning on my exercise playlist. I was questioning the sanity of wearing jogging shorts in this cold weather. It wasn’t crazy cold or anything, but it was definitely cold enough to not be shorts weather.
My new pair had a cell phone pocket in the back of them, so once the music was pumping in my ears, I zipped up my cell phone and jogged. I turned left and headed toward Eighth Avenue, figuring there would be less pedestrian traffic in that direction. Once there, I turned north and started running toward Central Park. Before I knew it, I’d passed Columbus Circle and kept going north. When I finally hit One-Hundred-and-Tenth Street, I crossed the backside of the park and headed back toward The Time on Fifth Avenue.
I liked the steady feeling of the concrete sidewalk beneath my feet with each stride. I wasn’t trying to win a marathon or anything, but I wanted to keep moving. It was as if I knew that when I stopped, I would have to face my life. I wasn’t ready for that yet. Some three-and-a-half hours and ten-plus miles later, I got back to the hotel door. The same doorman let me inside. Of course, by this point, I was a dripping, soppy mess. I headed upstairs to the lobby, caught the elevator up to my room and got inside without interacting with anyone else. I pulled my iPhone out of its pocket and hooked it back up to the charger. I made sure I stretched a bit, because the last thing I wanted was for my muscles to tense after that amount of exertion. Once I was sufficiently cooled down, I headed into the shower.
At some point, I ended up sitting in the shower
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Jason Wrench
Jason Wrench is a professor in the Department of Communication at SUNY New Paltz and has authored/edited 15+ books and over 35 academic research articles. He is also an avid reader and regularly reviews books for publishers in a wide number of genres. This book marks his first full-length work of fiction.
Find out more about Jason at his website.
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