Making The Grade

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 30,000
1 Ratings (3.0)

Will misunderstandings and shadows from their past sabotage Travis and Shane's hot new romance?

Travis is trying hard to make enough money to pay at least part of his tuition so he's not still paying off student loans with his social security checks.Enter Shane Bradfield, rich, sexy and sinfully good looking. Shane has never been attracted to cute little twinks, even those who look like Travis, but when Travis darts out in front of his motorcycle, he falls for Travis quite literally.They begin a hot romance, but shadows from their past, misunderstandings and Travis's notion that Shane is way out of his league all threaten to sabotage their budding romance.

Making The Grade
1 Ratings (3.0)

Making The Grade

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 30,000
1 Ratings (3.0)
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Excerpt

Travis

I wonder if there are meetings for people like me. You know, one of those where people stand up and confess to being addicted to something. Only it's not an addiction to alcohol or any other kind of drugs. It's much worse than that. I happen to be a card-carrying member of the walking wounded. The people who are totally in love with someone who doesn't love them back. And it's not even like I didn't know it. I expected it, really. As a matter of fact, I knew it from the first minute I saw him, from the first words he ever spoke to me.

"What the fuck, asshole? Are you fucking crazy?"

The answer to that, of course, should have been yes, absolutely. Because anybody in their right mind would have been somewhat justifiably offended by what he said, not stand there like a sap and think about how the sun picked out the blond highlights in his russet hair, and how very blue his eyes were when they glittered up at me like that.

Okay, so maybe those were not the words every boy dreams of hearing in his adolescent fantasies, but if you could have only seen him, sitting there on the pavement looking up at me. His gorgeous hair artfully mussed, his big blue eyes full of outrage and scorn, his full, pouty lips pulled down in a sneer. No? Well then, maybe I'm not telling it right.

Let me back up. We met, quite literally by accident. I was on my way to class, late as usual, running across the parking lot to catch the bus that would take me over to the North campus and Park Hall. My alarm clock failed to go off at the proper time…again…or more to the point, I forgot to set it to the proper time…again. If I was late for the first day of class, Professor Harggety was going to murder me in cold blood. I was his teaching assistant, and it didn't exactly set a good example for the rest of the class if I couldn't make it there on time.

When the alarm went off thirty scant minutes before I absolutely had to be there, I raised my head and stared at it in abject horror. Leaping out of bed, I jammed my legs into the first pair of jeans I came to in the mess of clothes on the floor, grabbed a T shirt from the pile and pulled it on. I'd been to my parents' house the previous weekend, and my mom had done my laundry, most of which still resided on the floor where I'd dumped it the day I got back to the dorm. Between my classes and my tutoring sessions, and now my work as a graduate assistant, I really didn't have much time left over for housekeeping chores. As a result, my room was a bit, shall we say, disorganized. Thank God I didn't have a roommate who would have either bitched about it or added his own mess to the mix. As it was, I was only a few bags of trash away from a health department intervention.

The fact that I picked up a blue Powerpuff Girls T-shirt that must have belonged to my little sister and got mixed in with my stuff didn't even register with me at the time. I was too frantic about getting out the door and making it to class. Not going at all wasn't an option. As I said, it was the first day of class, and I needed this job to help pay my tuition. I was also desperately trying to make a good impression on Professor Harggety and impress him with my knowledge of Victorian literature. That was certainly not going to happen if I couldn't even get there.

One more problem occurred to me as I grabbed my books--I hadn't reviewed the reading. The syllabus had been clear on the reading assignment, and the professor was sure to ask questions and begin a discussion. If the need arose, I wanted to be able to discuss the novel intelligently and maybe provide an insightful comment or two.

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