Hi there! Today I’m sharing a review for a newly-republished M/M Christmas romance from Josephine Myles. MERRY GENTLEMEN is a sweet and fun reconnection romance between two men who’d loved deeply but drifted apart several years before. Now they meet in the most unexpected of places, and the fire still burns…
About the book:
’Tis the season of goodwill to all men… even the one who dumped you.
Riley MacDermott is going places. Managing the annual Bath Christmas Market—which involves long hours in the cold and a whole lot of hassle—will secure the promotion he needs to afford to move out of his noisy, top-floor flat. Where not even his balcony is safe from an aggressive seagull.
The last stallholder he expects to see is his ex. Riley never recovered from their break up, and five years on the old chemistry still sparkles. Shame they can’t seem to manage a simple chat without arguing.
Stan never wanted to leave the love of his life, but the pull of the woods was too strong—and Riley wouldn’t hear of leaving the city. Reconnecting is painful, but Stan still jumps at the chance to stay with his old flame during the Market. And damn the consequences.
As the weeks pass, the two grow closer than ever. But despite scorching sex and cozy intimacy, they both know they face a cold and lonely future. Unless they can figure out a compromise.
Warning: Contains sex in a shed, a seagull with a grudge, glamping, awful Secret Santa underwear, misuse of an ABBA song, and as many wood-related puns as the author thought she could get away with.
How about a little taste?
You could lose yourself in Stan’s eyes. Well, I could. They reminded me of sun-bleached denim, with a deeper indigo ring around the outside. They were the kind of eyes that spoke of hard work in the great outdoors, and if it hadn’t been for the fact they’d been just the same back when he’d slaved away as a housing officer, I’d believe they really had been lightened by the sun. His hair certainly had. I’d always thought of him as a dirty blond rather than a honey one.
I still thought of him as a dirty blond, although not because of the colour of his hair.
Before my brain could get hijacked by thoughts of just how dirty Stan could be, I recovered my manners and stuck my hand out.
“Stan. Fancy seeing you here. I had no idea. Really.”
Stan stared at my hand like I was offering him a slice of mouldy pizza. I was just about to snatch it back when he grabbed it and held on.
“Ri? You look… You haven’t changed. Not one bit.”
Normally I’d preen a little at a comment like that. Make some allusion to Botox—not that I had any desire to freeze the expression out of my forehead, as how would I cope if I couldn’t do my patented single-eyebrow raise?
But right now, with Stan holding my hand in his rough, calloused—oh my God, he had genuine, honest to goodness callouses!—paw, I found it hard to do anything other than fight down my body’s instinctive response to him. I wanted to hit him and I wanted to lick him all over, and I couldn’t bloody well figure out which urge was winning.
Actually, right now I needed to stop paying any attention to my body and concentrate on keeping my cool. Couldn’t have Stan seeing me ruffled.
“Well, you’ve definitely changed,” I said. “You’ve got that whole rugged, outdoorsy vibe working for you now.” I didn’t need to hide the fact I was checking him out, thank Christ, so I took my time drinking in the sight of him. “Going back to nature really does pay off, doesn’t it? Shit, you never bulked up this well in the gym. And you’re tanned in the winter, but not a streak of orange to be seen. It’s a modern day miracle. Hallelujah.”
“I don’t need to fake it,” Stan growled, tilting his head back to look down at me and making the most of his three-inch height advantage. It was his arrogant-bastard pose, and he bloody well knew I was a sucker for it because I’d once made the mistake of telling him. Never, ever let a toppy git know just how much they turn you on, or you’ll spend your whole bloody life in a state of perpetual turned-on-ness. Was that even a word? It was now.
“What happened to your hair?” I said, reaching out for a lock. “Totally hot, but aren’t you getting a bit old for the whole surfer look? And you’re way too landlocked, down in deepest, darkest Somersetshire.”
“Piss off, Ri,” Stan said, but there was no heat in his words. The heat was all in his eyes, beaming out and frying me like a laser beam. They’d find me later, nothing more than a pair of melted boot soles on the cobbles.
Was that angry heat or turned-on heat? Couldn’t figure it out on him either. I had to face it, we both had ample reason to be pissed off with each other, but five years was a long time to hold a grudge.
“Much as I’d love to get on my way, it’s actually my job to check up on you. See if there’s anything you need any help with. Lend a hand, you know.” Jesus, could I have made that sound any more like a come-on? Clearly my mouth was in cahoots with my dick rather than my brain. I bit the inside of my lower lip, just to show it who was boss.
But Stan just carried on staring at me, while the sun-warmed denim of his eyes frosted over.
“Right. Just your job.” Oh, that guttural Slovakian accent! After the best part of a decade of living in the UK, Stan’s had definitely mellowed compared to when we’d first met, but it was still sexy as hell. “I’ll make sure I let you know if there’s anything you can help me with.” He stepped a little closer then, and tucked both thumbs into the waistband of his combats, hands framing his package like I needed any reminding of what was hidden in there. Well, not so hidden. Whereas I was a grower, Stan was most definitely a show-er, meaning his tackle was almost as big flaccid as it was erect. Not that that was a disappointment. More of a relief, really. If he’d got any bigger when hard, I’d have had to make like a snake and dislocate my jaw before giving him a blowjob.
And I really didn’t need to be remembering blowing Stan right now.
This is a republished work by the author, now that the original publisher is no longer in business. If you had purchased the original back in 2013, it is the same story…
Riley is still not over his intense love for Stan, the man who left him nearly five years ago. They wanted different things, it seems; for Riley it was an urban life, posh address and well-paying job–even if he hated it, while Stan relished outdoors activities and living off the land. As many times as Stan tried to talk with Riley about tempering his ambitions with some reality, it didn’t take. And so, when Riley refused to entertain the idea that they could build a new life together in a more sedate locale, Stan took off and built his dream house on 30 acres in Somerset, while Riley continued his life in Bath.
Not that much has changed for him. Well, he found a new job he didn’t hate quite so much, but he never moved and his last two boyfriends, nice as they were, saw the futility of building a life with a man who was clearly still hung up on “the one that got away.” Riley’s managing the two-week Christmas arts and crafts market in Bath, with an eye on his ailing boss’ position, and is gobsmacked to learn the last-minute addition to the market is Stan, selling his handmade woodcrafts. Their initial meet-up after five years of silence is unsettling. Riley’s just as attracted as ever, and mad about that.
Not so mad that he isn’t cordial. And a little flirty. And he appreciates when Stan helps him clean up from a rogue seagull spattering–Riley and the manky seagull are a sub-plot of the book, in truth. Riley’s trying so hard to entice Stan to recognize that he’s left such a good thing behind, and not seeing how much he let get away when Stan left. But he does see, even if it’s too late. They are still fantastic together and the love between them only swells as the days pass, especially once Riley invites Stan to stay in their old flat for the time he’s in town–and Stan agrees because his alternative was sleeping in his camper van. Though they don’t spend many nights simply sleeping…these two are a very rough-and-tumble pair.
In the end, Riley can’t live for a job that won’t hold him close at night, or challenge him in bed, or love him up with deep affection and Slovakian endearments. He needs Stan, and he needs to get over his hangups about country living if he’s going to have him. Even the seagull agrees, I think. It’s a sweet resolution for them, and I liked how Riley worked out a plan for employing himself within Stan’s new slow-paced world.
About the Author:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.
Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.