My body goes red-hot. “Every night I picture that,” I say, skin burning, pulse surging.

  “Every night?” he asks, full of dirty wonder.

  “Every night since I met you,” I answer.

  You can find TURN ME ON everywhere at a discount right now!

  Here’s a little more about HEART THROB!

  It’s not true that movie stars can have whoever they want. I have the worst crush on the guy who grew up next door to me. But, he’s off limits in every way. For starters, I just hired him…

  On top of that, he has no idea that I’m wildly attracted to him AND that I have zero experience with men. Instead, I’m drooling over the sexy contractor as he fixes my home, all while I try to juggle my life as a single dad.

  Oh, did I mention I just figured out I liked guys at the age of twenty-nine?

  I can only imagine how well that nugget will go over. By the way, Mister Hottie with a Toolbelt, I’ve never even kissed a guy. Want to show me how it’s done?

  I’ll stick to my fantasies for now, thanks.

  Only, they’re quickly becoming more real when he starts staying in my guesthouse most nights. Chatting with me out by my pool. Then, having dinner and drinks with me when my kids aren’t here. Quickly, too quickly, I discover he’s easy to talk to, caring and the best listener.

  And I wonder if my life could be a film. The kind where my character’s daring enough to say – would you be my first?

  Since I’ve got a long list of things I’ve been wanting to try…

  * * *

  You can order HEART THROB everywhere.

  * * *

  Be sure to try all my USA Today Bestselling MM romances!

  * * *

  Men of Summer Series

  * * *

  One Time Only

  * * *

  A Guy Walks Into My Bar

  * * *

  The Bromance Zone

  * * *

  Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

  * * *

  Author’s Note

  * * *

  Dear reader: Everyone’s experience of anxiety is unique to the individual. Beck’s experience is loosely inspired by moments in my life recently where I faced anxiety. His treatment choices are also informed by modalities that worked for me and that I continue to practice regularly—meditation, breathing exercises, and cognitive behavioral therapy. If you or someone you love struggles with anxiety, please seek help. There are many options and choices for dealing with anxiety, and what worked for Beck and me may or may not work for you. Please know you’re in my thoughts as you work through any struggles with anxiety. Here is a list of resources I compiled in partnership with a licensed therapist and a Mayo Clinic nurse.

  -- National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) 1-800-950-NAMI (6264)

  -- Panic Disorder Information Hotline 1-800-64-PANIC (72642)

  -- Crisis Text Line: text CONNECT to 741741. When you text this helpline, you’ll be connected to trained counselors for individualized support.

  -- Mental Health America 1-800-273-TSLK (8255), https://www.mhanational.org/get-involved/contact-us

  -- Smart Recovery https://www.smartrecovery.org/

  -- Anxiety & Depression Association of America https://adaa.org/find-help/support

  -- 7 Cups https://www.7cups.com/, online services

  -- The Tribe Wellness Community https://support.therapytribe.com/

  -- Daily Strength https://www.dailystrength.org/group/anxiety, this is an online support group with various postings.

  * * *

  You may want to contact your primary care provider (PCP) for a referral to a specialist in your area. If an attack becomes acutely debilitating, please seek assistance at your nearest emergency department. Seek out a friend you can talk to without fearing they will judge you.

  Behind The Scenes

  Dear Reader:

  * * *

  Every story goes through edits, as it should! And every story winds up with scenes that simply no longer fit. With The Boyfriend Comeback, a number of scenes wound up on the cutting room floor. As I explored Beck and Jason’s romance more scenes than usual were cut, likely because of the complexity of the characters and the way Beck surprised me as I dug deep into who he is.

  * * *

  But I also had to shelve some of the sex scenes I started to write. I didn’t cut any sex scenes, but I did revise and reframe several. I’m including some deleted sex scenes here, as well as other scenes from the book along with a behind the scenes look into why. Let’s start from the beginning of the story!

  * * *

  In Chapter One, when Jason and Nate gather Jason’s dad, the three had a longer exchange and so did Jason and Nate on the way to gather Dad. I still love it, but it was slowing down the opening and slowing down getting to Jason and Beck, so I had to cut this, but I imagine this is what Jason, Nate and Jason’s Dad discussed when Jason finds his dad and walks him to his car post-game in Chapter One . . .

  * * *

  Here’s the scene from Jason’s POV:

  * * *

  After I’ve done my best to wash off the stink of defeat, I escape the dreary locker room with Nate as fast as possible.

  “There’s only one thing to do tonight,” I say as we head up the steps from the locker room level to the stands. I’m eager to float my new plan to forget that game. Maybe a casual night with some of the guys will do the trick. “What if we—”

  “—Never order your Good Luck Smoothies again?” Nate asks drily.

  And the cheerleader routine dies a swift death. “Sorry man,” I say, heavily.

  Nate slugs my arm. “Jay. I’m just messing with you. It’s not your fault or the mango’s. It’s one game.”

  I get that on a big-picture level, but I’m frustrated that I failed so horribly at engineering attitude. I push open the door to the stairwell, then out onto the first level of the stadium. “I got ahead of myself. I was trying too hard,” I say honestly. At least I don’t have to put on a front with him anymore.

  Nate pats his chest. “I’m right here with you, buddy. I feel the pressure, too, this season.”

  “Yeah? You do?” I felt so alone for the last few weeks. While I don’t want Nate to stress over Coach, I’m selfishly glad I’m not the only team captain who’s edgy these days.

  “Absolutely. I feel like it’s my responsibility to catch every pass, even the ones you throw to other receivers. So I understand the pressure. But I also know you can’t keep taking it. Maybe ease up on yourself tonight?”

  Nate has the right attitude. He possesses the perfect amount of chill. I should try to adopt some of it. “Why don’t we just break down the game over a bite to eat, and then move the fuck on,” I suggest.

  Nate smiles, wide and genuine. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  For the first time all day, I feel like I can turn things around, and maybe I don’t have to use brute-force will to do so.

  “I’ll text Devon and Orlando to join us,” he adds. That’s our usual crew — Orlando’s the tight end and Devon’s the other wide receiver, so we tend to stick together. “I vote for burgers and karaoke at The Spotted Zebra. We’ll pick new karaoke tunes for the regular season. How’s that?”

  I do enjoy crooning the Backstreet Boys or Elvis. “I’m in,” I say as we reach my dad’s section.

  We find him in his seat with his head dipped low, his nose probably in a book. I glimpsed the title as I was getting him into the car—The Girl in the Hotel. He’s addicted to those psychological thrillers. But, when I reach his seat, the book’s not open. He’s resting his tablet on it instead, answering emails.

  He’s such a workaholic. “Dad, did you bring your book just for show?” It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve busted him for working at all hours. He doesn’t work while I play, but I bet he was on email during commercial breaks and timeouts. The guy is obsessed with his business, making sure he answers every district manager’s questions, and responds personally to vendors for his nationwide cookie business at all hours.

  He flips the device closed, muttering. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  “Mister McKay,” Nate chides. “When are you going to learn Jason has excellent vision.”

  My dad laughs. Nate might be his favorite comedian. “You don’t say.” Then to me, “I finished the book. I swear I just checked email in the last few minutes.”

  “Right. Sure,” I say, then offer him an arm.

  “Here.” He hands me the book and tablet, then hobbles up the steps. “What do you boys have planned for tonight?”

  “Stallions and Studs. Want to come, Mister McKay?” Nate asks innocently.

  “I’d have to get some change for my big bills, but I’m in,” Dad replies, going toe-to-toe with my friend.

  Dad would probably come along to be a good sport if we were really going to a gay strip bar, and really inviting him.

  I’ve been out to my dad since I was seventeen and he’s only ever been supportive of me. Like he is in every single way.

  I suppose that does make me lucky.

  When Jason goes to the gym in Chapter Three after the call with Reese, he originally ran into Nate outside the gym and they had a funny exchange about dating. I cut the Nate bit because it was slowing down getting to Jason and Beck, but it also needed to be cut when I realized midway through the book that Nate was not a swinging single stud, but in fact a young athlete struggling with his marriage to a guy who didn’t get him. As such this was cut, but Nate is pretty funny.

  * * *

  Here’s the scene from Jason’s POV:

  * * *

  I hang up, passing the familiar mix of high-end and hipster boutiques on this hilly street as I try to figure out why I don’t want to do Zena’s offer, besides the obvious—do I really want to be the face of a dating app? If I am, that would mean getting back on the apps. I flirted with a few in the off-season, went on a couple of dates, but they all fizzled.

  Nate watches me, head tilted, as I join him in front of the coffee shop. “Why so serious?” He sounds just like the Joker in Batman.

  Dating is no joke, but Nate is definitely the person to talk to about my dating dread. I dive in without preamble and ask, “Do I want to get on the apps?”

  He blows out a big breath. “That’s a bigger question than whether it’s fair that both teams aren’t guaranteed possession in overtime.”

  That’s an endless debate. “Yup.”

  “Do you want to date and all that it entails?” His earnest question calls up memories of awkward not-coffee dates and blocked phone numbers.

  I shudder.

  With a laugh, he pats my shoulder, and we set out for the gym. “There’s your answer.”

  “Dating is awesome and terrible at the same time,” I say. Sort of like when I reconnected with my college boyfriend a couple of years ago. Wyatt and I rekindled the college flame and had a good thing going for a while. That was great.

  Until we split. That was awful.

  Learned my lesson. Don’t take another ride on the ex merry-go-round. They chew you up and fling you off.

  Plus, after my winter on the apps with nothing to show for it, I’m not sure I want to go again. Sex, though? I do miss that.

  “There’s only one problem,” I tell Nate as we stop at a crosswalk. “I did not get laid last year.”

  Nate frowns in real terror. “Why are you telling me a horror story?”

  I laugh as we cross. “It is kind of scary. But then, so is dating.”

  His horror turns to excitement like he’s having a Eureka moment. “Wait. Maybe I didn’t have enough sex last year either. What if that’s why our football season sucked? What if we just discovered the secret to success? We all need to get laid more often. I bet Steve Jobs was getting his dick wet constantly when he founded Apple.”

  I crack up as we near Fillmore Fitness. “And you, sir, just earned two points for that.”

  Nate doffs an imaginary hat. “Thank you very much.”

  I do miss sex. But I’m not in the mood for the bullshit that comes with sex—in the form of dating. Football is my first love, and it deserves all my attention.

  My dick will just have to stay in time-out.

  We head into the gym, pop music blasting and weights clanging. The gym is huge, with row after row of machines, and a faintly chlorinated scent drifting in from the adjacent pool. Smells like hard work and discipline, two of my favorite things.

  I spot Harlan and Carter at the weights. Harlan retired more than a year ago from the Renegades, and Carter’s in his prime for that team, but while we don’t trade playbook secrets, we’re all friends.

  When Nate and I join them, they’ve stopped lifting. They’re standing by a weight bench, crowding around Harlan’s phone.

  I set down my water bottle and try to get a peek at the screen. “What’s cooking?”

  Harlan looks up, a proud smile on his face, and spins his phone around faster than he ran to catch a football. “My little daughter Mia started crawling today,” he says, showing us his cute nine-month-old.

  The kid is seriously adorable. “She’s a doll,” I say.

  Nate leans in and coos. “Someday, I’m going to adopt one of those cutie pies.”

  That’s news to me. “You are? When?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Later, Jaybird. I’ve got football and founding Apple on my mind.”

  Carter scratches his beard, confused. “Hate to break it to you, Nate, but Steve Jobs already took care of that.”

  Nate snaps his fingers. “Damn. Guess I’ll focus on football and benching more than your sorry ass.”

  The two receivers continue their trash talk as they hit the barbells.

  The first time Beck and Jason have penetrative sex after the Halloween party, I got a little lost in the rabbit hole—hee hee, I said hole—of all the details. Beck was feeling adventuresome, and he wanted to know how to eventually top Jason, so before Jason topped him, I meandered down the path of Beck fingering Jason. Why? I was exploring Beck’s curiosity. But ultimately, this was a distracting segue from the main attraction. But here you go!

  * * *

  Here’s the scene from Beck’s POV:

  * * *

  So good, I have an idea. “Can I play with your ass first? I want to know how it feels to fuck you with my fingers.”

  He grins, then shudders. “You are the most fearless fucking man,” he says, then tosses me the lube, drops a hand towel on the bed, and flops to his back.

  I climb over him, settling between his legs, overwhelmed with the view. Jason parks his hands behind his head, spreads his thighs, inviting me to get him riled up.

  I pour some lube onto my hand, slick up my fingers. “Tell me how you like it,” I say.

  But he does me one better. He stretches out an arm, reaches for my wrist, and guides me down to his cock, then to his ass.

  He covers my hand with his, a move that sends sparks skittering across my flesh, then he pushes my finger against his hole.

  He shuts his eyes, breathes out hard, and then . . . moans.

  It’s long, and low and sensual.

  It guides me on.

  “That. Do that,” he urges, then he lets go of my hand, falls back on the bed, and watches me.

  He’s on his elbows, staring down at me fingering his ass. He’s hot and tight, and I’m burning up everywhere. Especially when he tells me to go deeper, then to crook my finger just so, and then he grabs at the covers and groans.

  But soon, he bats my hand away, then wipes his hand. In seconds, he grabs my shoulders, jerks me against him, and plants the most devastating kiss on my mouth. He’s hot and hungry and I know—I fucking know—he’s about to rock my world.

  “On your back, baby,” he tells me when he breaks the kiss.

  I comply, then spread my legs, like he did. “Finger me,” I say, demanding.

  “Someone knows what he wants,” Jason says.

  Then, he gets between my legs, lubes up his finger, and presses one against my ass. He pushes in, and I wince at the intrusion, but not for long. “Keep going.”

  He goes deeper, then crooks his finger, and my entire . . .

  I STOPPED HERE AND REALIZED THIS WASN’T THE SCENE I WANTED! Instead, Jason preps Beck by sucking him and fingering him at the same time!

  * * *

  Also, when writing that first time scene, I tried putting Beck on top of Jason and riding him. You’ll recognize some of the words and dialogue because I rewrote this and reframed with Beck being on his back and Jason topping him missionary style.

  * * *

  Here’s the scene from Beck’s POV:

  * * *

  But Jason bends, whispers in my ear. “Want you on top,” he says, then he lies down, grabs my hand, and tells me to straddle him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  How can he even ask? “You know I do,” I say, plainly, baring my whole soul.

  “Then ride my dick, baby. It’s gonna be so much better for your first time.”

  First time. Those two words reverberate in my mind as I straddle him, line him up, then slowly, ever so slowly, sink down.

  And yeah. Wow. Holy fuck. That hurts. That’s a stretch I never expected.

  I wince, gritting my teeth.