Tow Trucks & New Year’s Eve Kisses
Title: Tow Trucks & New Year’s Kisses
Author: Lila Leigh Hunter
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: November 21, 2016
Sex Content: N/A
Orientation: Gay, Pansexual
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
A Jag with out-of-state plates is the last car Scott DeLaney expected to find when answering a tow call as a favor to his drunken godson. But, the tall man in the fedora seems like a nice reward until Scott finds out the stranger’s destination. Yes, he’d take care of the brooding man, but he has a selfish reason for it.
Finding himself in a ditch after dodging a deer is the least of Patrick Samuels’s problems when his rescuer arrives, wearing a tuxedo and driving a hot pink flatbed. Perhaps his older brother’s scheme will benefit Patrick after all.
Who knew that a New Year’s kiss is far more efficient than any boardroom strategy to seal a deal?
“Excuse me, sir. This is Scott. If you still need our services, I need you to stop talking and only answer my questions. If you continue with the yelling and the offensive language, I’ll disconnect the call.” His request was met with static. “Are you still on the line, sir?” Scott asked after a charged silence.
“Yes, I’m waiting for your insightful questions, sir,” the caller answered mockingly.
Scott chuckled. “Very well played, sir. Now, can you please let me know how we can help you, Mr…”
“Samuels. As I tried to explain to your incompetent employee, I lost control of my car after dodging a deer and ended up in a ditch.”
“Are you hurt? Do I need to call for an emergency vehicle to meet us?” Scott asked.
“No, Mr. Scott. I’m only bruised from the air bag. I need to get my car out and get a rental as soon as possible.”
“I can be there in about…” Scott stopped talking, to peer outside. The snow had started to come down, and a light blanket already covered the ground. Alarmed, he realized he didn’t know where Mr. Samuels was stranded. “Where are you, Mr. Samuels?”
“That inept man couldn’t even write down my information?” Mr. Samuels hissed. “I’m somewhere down Mill Creek Road. I was trying to go north on Highway Twelve and ended up lost in the middle of nowhere and half a candy store.”
The man was infuriating, but Scott loved the dark, rich tone of his voice, and his twisted sense of humor. Scott laughed, and Alissa, Evan, and Larissa looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. Perhaps he had, since he planned to go and rescue Mr. Difficult from the unexpected deer run-in at the candy-named streets. “I have an idea of the area where you are. I can be there in about forty-five minutes. Do you remember the last road you drove by?”
“How many towns over are you?” Mr. Samuels yelled. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here, and I haven’t seen a car go by in ages. And this stupid snow—”
“Which street, Mr. Samuels?” Scott asked, ignoring the other man’s tantrum.
“Pepper Candy something and Bubble Gum whatever before that,” Mr. Samuels shouted.
“Perfect. That’s Peppermint Lane and Bubble Gum Court. See you in forty-five minutes, Mr. Samuels, and please, stay warm,” Scott said before disconnecting the call. He pointed at Evan with the cell phone, making his godson flinch. “I swear, if you aren’t sober by the time I come back, our deal is off.”
“Dad! Leave Evan alone. He gave everyone the night off to be with their families and took care of the on-call shift,” Larissa said, interceding for her boyfriend.
“Give me your keys,” Scott demanded.
“Scott. You can’t leave. You’re the host,” Alissa chastised.
“Someone has to do it.”
“When was the last time you went on a call?” she asked.
“I have no idea, but some things never change. You know I worked with Bradford Sr. for years,” Scott answered. Junior, Evan’s dad, and Scott had worked their college summers at the towing shop. Though Junior managed the shop now, Scott had kept track of trends and new equipment. It might not be his job anymore, but he had helped his friend make the shop profitable beyond their expectations. “Evan, which truck did you bring?”
“Dad’s Missy,” Evan answered.
“Jesus Christ, Evan! You know what would happen if you scratch your daddy’s baby, right? And don’t get me started about drunk driving.”
“I was planning on getting some coff—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. I love you like the son I never had, and now I don’t even know if I can trust your decisions.”
“Please, Uncle Scott. I’m really sorry.”
The watery blue eyes did it for him. He pulled Evan forward and hugged him. “I know, son. Now, give me your keys and sober up. I want tonight to be special for my girl,” Scott murmured in Evan’s ear before kissing Alissa and Larissa good-bye.
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Lila Leigh Hunter is the pen name of a Puerto Rican author with a hyphenated surname. Born and raised on the island, Lila grew up making up stories her siblings pretended to like. But no matter what they say, as the youngest of six, she’s still their mom’s favorite. According to the dusty diplomas on her wall, she’s an architectural designer living in Southern Texas with her husband and four military brats.
She spends most of her free time writing homoerotic romances about middle-aged men finding happiness and the rest hiding from pesky house chores. When outside of her cave, she likes to observe people and try to guess their stories. Sometimes she wishes the voices in her head were real; going out with the boys in her books sounds like a plan made in heaven.
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