I hope it continues to do well and that those who read it enjoy Nate and Dan as much as I do.
Here is the cover and an excerpt different to the one provided on BDP and the seller sites.
DANIEL FLETCHER’S THROBBING head proved he was at least alive—not that he was sure he wanted to be—and although he was in his own bed, Dan had no idea how he’d gotten home. The pain that rushed through his body at the memory of why he had drunk himself into oblivion the night before, made not only his head but his heart hurt as well.
He glanced at the clock on the side table. The illuminated numbers were hard to make out in the bright morning light, but he squinted and moved his head a little to get a better angle, groaning when he saw that it was close to ten-thirty—shit! So much for being at work on time. His inner sarcasm wasn’t lost on himself. Fuck! Even the word, screamed silently inside his head, hurt. Why? he pathetically mused. Well, he knew why; seeing Adam out with that guy—the guy he’d walked in on him fucking in their bed two months ago—had hurt. It had hurt like a bitch. And even if he’d thought he was starting to get over the man and the end of the three-year relationship they’d shared, yesterday had torn open wounds that had only begun to heal. Rationally he knew he was better off without the traitorous bastard, but rationality didn’t always play a fair game in matters of the heart.
Dan pulled himself out of bed and stumbled for the bathroom. His bladder was painfully full, but it wasn’t his only motivation for dragging himself out of bed. He needed Advil and about a gallon of water, and then he needed to call his assistant, Beth. At least he’d had the forethought to send her an email last night—well, he thought he had. He’d have to check his phone when his head stopped spinning.
After relieving himself, he turned to the sink, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He had no doubt that he looked like shit, just another reminder of the reason he had written himself off the night before, and it was better to avoid that right now. Instead, he turned on the faucet, leaving the water cold, and bent his head down into the bowl, first of all splashing water over his face and neck, and then cupping one hand under the flow of the water and drinking about a pint of it. It felt good, immediately invigorating him. He opened the mirrored wall cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Advil, popped the lid and tipped three caplets into his hand. Hopefully, they’d work quickly, because he felt as if his head were about to explode on his shoulders.
Clutching the small white tablets in his hand, he walked from the room, not caring that he was naked since there was no one there to see him—that was either a good or a bad thing—and made his way to the kitchen. The world seemed so quiet in his apartment. There was none of the frenetic activity he generally associated with this time of the day on a Friday. Today it was just him alone, with his hangover and his misery.
“Screw you, Adam,” Dan yelled in an attempt to break the eerie quiet surrounding him, instantly regretting the action as his head thumped its discomfort. “Screw you,” he mouthed dejectedly, hating the man he had once loved so much for causing him all of this pain. Hating that it still mattered, hating that Adam still had such a hold on his heart. He knew two months wasn’t long, not really, especially considering that he hadn’t seen Adam’s infidelity coming—he’d been totally blindsided. Dan had been in love and had thought that his love was returned.
What a horrible night.
Adam had begged for Dan’s forgiveness, claiming he did love him more than anything in the world, but he’d also admitted that it wasn’t a first-time thing when Dan pressed him on it. Then he’d had the audacity to put the blame on Dan, telling him it only happened because Dan worked too hard, that his hours were too long. It was all bullshit.
His eyes immediately teared up, and he leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a moment to draw in a few deep breaths to steady himself. He knew he needed to forget Adam and move on, and it had been getting better, day-by-day, until yesterday at least, until he’d seen them together. He wasn’t quite back to square one, but he hated that he’d slipped back . . . again—screw you, Adam. It was easy in the light of day to be rational, to try and make his head rule his heart, but knowing and doing were two very different things.
An hour, three Advils, a long warm shower, and a greasy breakfast of bacon later, Dan finally felt reasonably human again. He’d called and told his assistant that he’d be working from home for the day, which she’d expected because he had, in fact, emailed her the night before, claiming that he was coming down with something. She hadn’t pressed him during their call, but they knew each other well enough that he could clearly hear the doubt—and the gut-wrenching tone of sympathy—in her voice.
Jesus! He didn’t want people’s sympathy; all that did was prolong the pain. If they weren’t constantly reminding him that he felt like shit, then maybe he’d be able to get past it.
Dan rolled his eyes at his own patheticness. If there were such a word his name would be the definition.
Get over him, dickhead. Stop wasting time on the cheating bastard and go and find someone who can take your mind off him. A good hard cock and a nice long fuck should do the trick.
His inner voice was spot on. Maybe that was just what he needed. Finding someone to screw had certainly made Adam’s transition a smooth one, if the little punk hanging off his arm last night was any indication of how good Adam had it now.
Dan got himself a hot cup of coffee and carried it into his study. The plan was to follow up on the reports Beth was sending him, and then deal with his own emails and his clients after that. Nothing different really than what he’d be doing if he were in the office anyway. And he could do all of that sitting in his boxer briefs. It seemed rather win-win.
Dirty Martini is available now from all major ebook sellers and from the BDP shop. Find it here.
Bye for now, Bette.