Drunk on love.
Like a well-aged whiskey, master distiller and old-money entrepreneur Malone Kensington is elegant and refined. Unfortunately, he’s also a perfectionist who is more dedicated to the success of his generations-old company than his own love life.
That company needs a public spokesman.
What Colton Hale lacks in sophistication, he more than makes up for with the charisma that’s allowed him to survive on the street from a young age and charm his way into the lucrative—if overwhelming—public position at the Kensington Distillery. When Mal takes Colt under his wing, hoping to polish off his rough edges, opposites attract and a passionate romance blossoms despite the differences in age and background. But can it survive a Kensington Board of Directors who believe Colt is nothing but a gold digger and a kidnapper determined to profit from the love of Mal’s life—dead or alive?
Currently it has 85 ratings and a 4 star average. The ranking today is
Best Sellers Rank: #495,111 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
#7,006 in Gay Fiction
#11,682 in Gay Romance
#15,983 in LGBTQ+ Romance (Books)
When it was release it was in the top 5000 over all on Amazon Kindle.
“May I?” He was greeted with a collective nod. Spreading the papers out like giant playing cards, he talked as he worked. “I worked in Kensington’s Place Saturday night and had the chance to talk with a number of customers who were in town for an interview here. Except these guys usually go to auditions.” Colt stopped and looked around at their stunned faces. “You invited a bunch of guys in their twenties who live off their looks to a distillery. And gave them free drinks. They drink, they talk. What did you expect would happen?”
“He’s got a point,” Mr. Krems said. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
“Because you’re honest people,” Colt said softly.
“And you’re not?” Jeffery snapped.
“No, sir, I’m honest. But as Miss Hollan already knows, I’ve lived on the streets since I was fifteen. You learn a thing or two and have a different perspective on some things.”
“Go on,” Bodyguard said. He was standing very close to Colt, and the heat he gave off was distracting.
“They told me their names, some of the other jobs they’d held, things like that. I remembered the details, and yesterday I went to the library and looked them up. A few of them I found simply by remembering what they looked like and searching through pictures. You put out a call for actors to play the face of this company.” Colt moved some of the papers around. “The problem is, anyone looking any of these men up will find them on databases and in write-ups. These are men looking for work in a specific field. They’re out there. Pictures, resumes, everything. This guy here was in a soap opera.”
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French
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Already translated.
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Italian
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Margherita Leone
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Davi Dallariva
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Talía García
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