RN First Assistant Chris Bottoms enjoys being a bottom. Though abused by his stepfather as a boy and conditioned to enjoy sex only one particular way, he’s come to make the most of his life. And he enjoys bottoming—to the hilt—whenever and wherever he can.
As if colorectal cancer wasn’t enough of a trial, the subsequent botched surgery robs him of normal bodily functions—no more prostate massage for Chris. In the middle of his medical drama, his best friend, Mickey O’Donovan, accepts a promotion that brings him to live in Jacksonville. Roommates in college, they’ve remained friends and occasional fuck buddies ever since. Chris’s crisis brings their relationship to a new level, though, and long-suppressed feelings are revealed.
Chris and Mickey settle down together and life is good, even though they can no longer indulge in their favorite sexual position. But Chris can’t seem to catch a break. When his past rears its head, Chris and Mickey must face a new challenge, together.
This was a good story with, I'm sorry to say, rather bad writing. The dialogue was stiff and inorganic, and the narrative felt dry and boring, and in some cases read like a glossy brochure advertising the city of Jacksonville, Florida.
Which is sad, because it's the location of the story that drew me to it initially (I'm very familiar with the city), plus the major plot point that's being hinted at in the blurb. But OMG, do your research. Nobody who just had a part of their colon and their rectum removed, and a colostomy bag attached is going to eat a freaking hamburger, even if it's from The Loop. That is major freaking surgery, and no hospital, not even a crappy military one, will allow that. Also, while we're talking about hospitals, St. Vincent is, if I'm not completely mistaken, the local Catholic hospital, and while I don't know this for a fact, I had to question the possibility of them hiring someone who's openly homosexual, as that might go against any morality clauses in their contract. I also questioned the validity of someone who's going to have to wear a colostomy bag for the rest of his life, serving as a surgical RN in a sterile OR.
While the author had pretty much all the landmarks down pat, I didn't need to be told (even if I hadn't lived there and knew all this already), that the Fuller Warren was once a draw bridge on an Interstate, and how the bridges across the St. Johns River are painted in different colors, and how all those special areas of Jacksonville are all so very special. Okay, so the anecdote about the Baptist Church being directly across from the Bathhouse was funny ironic, but that was about it. Leave the advertising for the city to the travel folks. It's one thing for an author to make a few points about a city you love (and where you possibly live), but driving that home again and again and again just makes your story boring and your writing stiff and annoying.
And oh, the dialogue. I don't know anyone in their late thirties who talks like that.
"Irv, old buddy. How the heck are you?"