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    Heat Wave: Colorado Springs
    Heat Wave: Colorado Springs
    Heat Wave: Colorado Springs
    Ebook69 pages1 hour

    Heat Wave: Colorado Springs

    By Michael P. Thomas

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Just when barbecue boss Spencer Worthington is convinced nothing in the world could be hotter than Colorado Springs this summer, along comes Ethan, sizzling ribs with his dad at a rival booth. Just looking at him makes Spencer sweat, and when Ethan’s dad reveals himself to be a homophobic heckler, Spencer’s temper flares. Conflict erupts, and a passerby proposes a civilized solution: a reality TV cook-off -- such as the one she happens to produce -- to settle the score. May the best meat win.

    Seeing an opportunity to win a cash prize and Ethan, Spencer signs on. But when his secret sauce goes missing at the height of the competition, all signs point to sabotage, and he neglects to look before he leaps to conclusions. Now the money and Ethan are both on the line, but how can Spencer keep his cool in this heat?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJMS Books LLC
    Release dateJul 19, 2015
    ISBN9781611528190
    Heat Wave: Colorado Springs
    Author

    Michael P. Thomas

    Michael P. Thomas is a former flight attendant whose mid-life career change to 911 operator has shown him that the widespread fear of sharing and receiving love is a real emergency. He writes to spread love and encourage others to do likewise. And a little bit to scare the gay-haters. For more information, visit facebook.com/GoReadMichaelPThomas.

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      Book preview

      Heat Wave - Michael P. Thomas

      Heat Wave: Colorado Springs

      By Michael P. Thomas

      Published by JMS Books LLC

      Visit jms-books.com for more information.

      Copyright 2015 Michael P. Thomas

      ISBN 9781611528190

      Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

      Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

      All rights reserved.

      WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

      No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

      This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Published in the United States of America.

      * * * *

      For Jared, who’s always the hottest guy in the room.

      * * * *

      Heat Wave: Colorado Springs

      By Michael P. Thomas

      This was his first time, but he knew at once it would not be his last. He had friends who couldn’t get enough of it; they’d practically begged him to try it, and when the opportunity presented itself here in the park he figured, What the hell? It was longer than he expected, and so meaty; salty and fragrant, with a tongue-prickling tang. He tried to ease into it, with little licks and nibbles, but he found he couldn’t resist the urge to gobble at it, inch by inch, until, to his surprise and delight, he had the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head as he slurped and moaned. Hard as he tried to savor every splash of sticky-sweet runoff, rivulets trickled out—he got some on his shirt, he had it all over his chin, and he was pretty sure some had splattered into his hair, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He knew it was piggish, but as soon as it was over, he craved his next. Any dude who’d never had one of these in his mouth was definitely doing it wrong. His friends were right:

      This rib from Bone Lickers was far and away the best barbecue he’d ever eaten.

      * * * *

      "You know what? I hope I do go to Hell for being gay. In fact, I’d kinda like to go right now, cuz I know it ain’t this hot."

      Are you saying you’d like a break from the grill? Spencer asked. Carter did insist on being a drama queen.

      I need to rehydrate, Carter said, stepping away from the smoking slab of flaming meat. He wiped his hands on the carpenter’s apron that doubled around his minute waist like an over-pocketed mini-skirt, then stuck an open palm out to Spencer, who’d been manning the cash box. Beer money, please.

      ‘Bout time, Claudia chimed in. She’d been standing in the puddle of shade under the umbrella that kept the sun from cooking the meat while she prepped it for the grill, but she also clocked in at two-ninety-five—she would have been hot even if she wasn’t slaving away in a barbecue pit at one-thirty in the afternoon on the Hottest Sunday in History.

      Fine, Spencer said, fishing a twenty out of the front pocket of his own apron and slapping it into Carter’s eager mitt. But bring big ones.

      Carter tsked. You and that one-track mind.

      Spencer affixed a faux scowl to his face and pointed over Carter’s head, across the park to the beer booth. Go. When you come back, I’ll take the grill for a while.

      Thanks, Boss. And off Carter flounced. He bopped through the crowd, his bottle-blond Mohawk rotating like a radar dish as he ogled every male of the species that crossed his path. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer was pretty sure he saw the middle-aged bald dude at the rib joint across the path flailing his hands and twisting his hips in an unflattering impression of Carter, but he let it slide. It was Pride, for one thing; he could have been mocking any one of a hundred mincing passersby. More to the point, Spencer realized he had probably imagined the rudeness, merely one of several unseemly qualities he had attributed to the oaf since he’d started setting up his annoyingly competitive stall that morning. It’s not like Spencer thought he was the only grizzled prospector who’d ever set out to find his fortune grilling meat for money in the summertime, and he knew his secret-recipe ribs were unbeatable, but it would have been nice if the Pride planning committee could have separated the two barbecue booths by more than the length of a side of beef.

      Plus Spencer

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