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    Easy Evenings
    Easy Evenings
    Easy Evenings
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    Easy Evenings

    By Mary Calmes

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Mangrove Stories

    Lazlo Maguire doesn’t do relationships—he does transactions. Six months of the year, he’s an expensive rent boy in Manhattan, and he moves so fast that settling down could not, would not, ever enter his mind… except for once. Britton Lassiter he meets man to man, not as hustler and mark, and it’s too good to be true when the lawyer wants to keep Lazlo even if he has to share him with the job.

    But Lazlo has his reasons to walk away from the man he’s grown to love. The other six months of the year, he is laid-back Laz, a shopkeeper in the sleepy coastal town of Mangrove, Florida, where the artist he never allows himself to be in the Big Apple shines through. He lives for his time by the ocean, the place he hides his secrets and nurses his broken heart.

    Then fate intervenes, and Laz gets the surprise of his life when he spies Britton in Mangrove—but it’s not meant to be… not until Britton sees the change in him and wants to be a part of Laz’s new life so that every evening can be easy… together. Hopefully the secrets that tore them apart won’t come back to haunt them.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateNov 18, 2015
    ISBN9781634765916
    Easy Evenings
    Author

    Mary Calmes

    Mary Calmes believes in romance, happily ever afters, and the faith it takes for her characters to get there. She bleeds coffee, thinks chocolate should be its own food group, and currently lives in Kentucky with a five-pound furry ninja that protects her from baby birds, spiders, and the neighbor’s dogs. To stay up to date on her ponderings and pandemonium (as well as the adventures of the ninja), follow her on Twitter @MaryCalmes, connect with her on Facebook, and subscribe to her Mary’s Mob newsletter.

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    3/5

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    • 2/5
      I probably wouldn't have bought this book if I had known about the "surprise child that is yours and she literally has NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD so you have to adopt her" trope; I just really, really don't like it. I don't think it works out well, and it felt really poorly done in this novella. Especially since her conception made little sense; why in the world would some rich woman whose boyfriend had paid Lazlo to fuck her while he watched the kid that was the result? You know you could die literally at ANY TIME due to a brain tumor and you decide to leave your kid in the hands of the prostitute whom you know practically nothing about? Didn't she have any friends who would raise the kid? Honestly, in her shoes, I might take the chances with the state foster care system, as horrible as it can be. The whole thing felt entirely implausible. The kid was, of course, ridiculously adorable and precocious, which they always are in this trope, and I was not feeling it at all.I didn't really feel much for the character of Lazlo, even though he obviously had a shitty childhood and young adulthood. I never felt like I connected to him. And I felt even less for Britton, who seemed like some sort of shadow character without any real depth. Also, I super hate that Britton had barely known the kid for a day and he was already calling her "their" kid. Dude, you don't even know her, and less than twenty-four hours ago she was saying how she hated lawyers. Simmer down. Also, Britton served Lazlo with a restraining order when he moved to Mangrove, but Lazlo kept trailing him? What the fuck. That's stalking, you moron, and not cool at all.I didn't buy the romance. Most of it did occur off page, but it still felt like they barely knew one another, and then they were talking about U-Hauling it after making nice. LOL I thought only we lesbians did that? ;DNo sir, I didn't like it.

    Book preview

    Easy Evenings - Mary Calmes

    Easy Evenings

    By Mary Calmes

    Mangrove Stories

    Lazlo Maguire doesn’t do relationships—he does transactions. Six months of the year, he’s an expensive rent boy in Manhattan, and he moves so fast that settling down could not, would not, ever enter his mind… except for once. Britton Lassiter he meets man to man, not as hustler and mark, and it’s too good to be true when the lawyer wants to keep Lazlo even if he has to share him with the job.

    But Lazlo has his reasons to walk away from the man he’s grown to love. The other six months of the year, he is laid-back Laz, a shopkeeper in the sleepy coastal town of Mangrove, Florida, where the artist he never allows himself to be in the Big Apple shines through. He lives for his time by the ocean, the place he hides his secrets and nurses his broken heart.

    Then fate intervenes, and Laz gets the surprise of his life when he spies Britton in Mangrove—but it’s not meant to be… not until Britton sees the change in him and wants to be a part of Laz’s new life so that every evening can be easy… together. Hopefully the secrets that tore them apart won’t come back to haunt them.

    Chapter One

    I DIDN’T like lying to my friends, but it was necessary. When Hutch and Kelly asked me about the restraining order Britton Lassiter, the new attorney in town, served me with, I said I didn’t care. I told them that since it didn’t affect me or my business in Mangrove, Florida, he could leave it in place, for all I cared.

    The problem, though, was that I really did care. I cared quite a bit.

    As a rent boy in Manhattan, I had hundreds of clients, all different, all with different sorts of kinks. But the straight-laced attorney had distinguished himself because of the trust he’d placed in me from our initial meeting. We’d met as equals, just two guys, and because of that, ours had never become a relationship in which he paid me. Britton knew what I was, but he was excluded from having to know anything about my business. When we met, he put himself in my hands, did everything I asked, and was truly submissive in bed. It was the missing component from all of my other encounters. I had never been entirely trusted before. He was the only one I truly ever saw.

    People thought the yearly masquerade shindig was really just a big orgy, but it wasn’t. The Halloween party I met Britton at—it was a far more upscale event than that. There was wait staff, alcohol, and whatever the hell kind of drugs you were into. The warehouse in Tribeca had been all done in a gothic theme, which I myself found ridiculously cheesy but apparently got people in a certain mood. There were black birdcages everywhere—with candles burning inside them as well as inside the faux fireplaces in the rooms set up with moveable red-painted walls. The furniture was all black: a Belle de Fleur sofa, a carved mahogany Louis XV Bergère armchair, an Absolom Roche chair, as well as the chandeliers, sconces, antique lanterns, and the many bookcases. The place was draped in black velvet, damask, and red satin. I felt like I was going to a party at Tim Burton’s house—or Dracula’s—but more upscale and Hollywood, less 7th grade Halloween dance.

    I was invited as a party favor, paid to be there as one of the pretty people who lured others deeper into the maze, fucked them, and then moved on to the next. It was all for bragging rights, having the party everyone wanted an invitation to year after year.

    It started out as billionaire Aaron Sutter’s New York Masquerade Ball, and he flew in from Chicago to host it. The jet set and the glitterati would have died to be seen at that ball. Now it was run by Geneva Grace, a socialite whose father built casinos all over the world.

    It was a sordid affair, the masks given to everyone only adding to the illusion of fun without consequences. Obviously some people at the event would not be fucking in private rooms—two at a time, three, maybe four—if they weren’t hopped up on something or didn’t have their faces covered. So with the masks, no one would be able to pick out anyone in a lineup later, even if a life depended on it.

    I was prowling around when I spotted him: tall, built like a swimmer, broad shoulders, a wide chest, the whole V-shape, long legs, and a perfectly tight, round ass. Even through the black lace mask, I could tell his eyes were a stunning shade of brilliant ocean blue. I was immediately drawn across the room, and the closer I got, the more I realized how ridiculously uncomfortable he looked. In the middle of all the debauchery going on around him, he had a tightness to the set of his mouth, an obvious hesitancy, and most of all, more than anything, he was intimidated. It made no sense; he was the focus of three stunning men and they were all pawing at him and letting him know in no uncertain terms that any of their asses were his for the taking. As I reached them, I heard the dry sound of his laughter and realized it was forced. He was trying to scramble free of their hands, push the one guy off his lap and slip away, get out as fast as he could.

    I didn’t want him to go.

    Move, I commanded the long, leggy twink in the assless red leather chaps wiggling around in his lap. It was obvious he was hoping to grind over a cock straining to get free of dress pants, but the man in question was not hard in the least.

    Oh, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.

    You will if you want your nose to stay as perfect as it is now, I warned, my voice going low and scary.

    He climbed off, and I removed my mask and waited.

    Oh, the twink purred, hands on my black Armani suit jacket and then under it to the black dress shirt seconds later. Maybe you want to play?

    Not now. Maybe later, I said, dismissing them all with a wave of my hand before flopping down beside the beautiful man.

    Thank you, he said after a moment, his sharp exhale not lost on me. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but they needed to go.

    I nodded and did a slow pan to him. Can I get you a drink?

    His eyes were shiny, and he licked his lips. I already had a few, thank you.

    We should move so no one else comes along and attacks you.

    He scoffed. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem now that you’re here.

    No? I fished.

    He cleared his throat. No. You’re, uhm, clearly the pretty one between the two of us.

    You think?

    Quick nod.

    That’s very flattering.

    He caught his breath, and I felt the nervous tension rolling off him

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