The good news is the most gorgeous cowboy I’ve ever seen is moving in next door to me. The bad news? He’s not alone. Hanging on his arm is a very pregnant woman. Are they a couple? It sure looks like they are. So not only is he not gay, but he also has a girlfriend, or a wife, or whatever. Just my luck.
21-year old Trace Cotton is an artist who never shows his paintings to anyone. When cowboy Luke Wagner moves into Mockingbird Place with a very pregnant Ava, Trace believes he must fight his attraction to Luke since he’s taken.
When Ava collapses outside Trace’s apartment, he comes to her rescue. Things aren’t what they seem on the surface, but when Trace finds out the truth will it be too late for a chance at something real with Luke?
Warning: contains hot showers with singing, two sexy men kissing, and sexual situations taking place in a 10-unit Mediterranean complex filled with college-aged hotties.
“Yes, I recommend the series. Smokin’ hot and smart men who are not afraid to expose their feelings or get in touch with their emotional side. Well done, again, Mr. Cook! I look forward to the next book – impatiently!“ ~4 Star Review from Happily Ever Chapter
Panty Scorching: 4
Over All Rating: 4 Stars
Kindle eArc provided by Author
Reviewed by Robin
Trace is an art major at college which causes some problems since he has high anxiety about anyone seeing his paintings. Cowboy Luke just moved into Mockingbird Place with a very pregnant Ava. When Luke hits on Trace, sparks fly but Trace isn’t about to start something with someone already in a relationship. With all kinds of obstacles, will Trace find love and be able to share his talent?
“He knows me better than anyone. It’s hard for me when my emotions are so strong. I feel exposed.
‘Come on, Trace. Let me in. Please.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Fine. The asshole kissed me.’
‘What asshole? Luke?’
‘Yes, Luke. Can you believe it? The minute Ava is out of sight he starts flirting with me.’ I recount everything that happened. ‘So you see why I’m livid.’”
In Mocking Bird Place Book 2, we encounter more people having a rough time. Luke and Ava have just been through a tragedy and are still recovering. Luke also went through a very traumatic experience. I was touched at how the three of them worked together to help each other heal. We also continue to see how strong of a family unit the residents at Mockingbird Place are. This series is very sweet, and I love the interactions between the neighbors. I always get a lot of warm and fuzzy feels when I read this series.
If you also enjoy M/M, check out this cowboy’s love story and find out what’s going on with the quirky residents at Mockingbird Place. I know I’ll continue checking in with them and reading about what Jackson is up to in the next book.
I stand by my front window, where the light is best this time of day, gazing at the white void, praying for inspiration. The blank canvas taunts me. Where to begin? It’s always like this when I start a new painting. It has to mean something. I need feeling and life. Right now, all I have is emptiness.
My roommate and best friend, Jackson, always teases me about my process—or in his words my “idiosyncrasies.” My last painting took me over a month to complete, but the first ten days was like this one, staring at the canvas before I pressed a brush filled with paint to its surface.
Out of the corner of my eye, through the window, I see one of my new neighbors walking up the sidewalk. Ava Stone is pregnant and is carrying a big box. In her current condition I wonder if she should be lifting heavy things.
She and her good-looking cowboy, Luke Wagner, are moving into the apartment next to Jackson’s and mine—Unit E. That leaves Oliver’s old apartment, Unit F, as the only vacancy at Mockingbird Place. I met the couple at the complex’s yard sale when they were taking a look at the apartment. They were living in a motel so that Ava could start her classes at the university on time until they could find a place to rent. Ava and Luke’s new home had been empty for quite some time. Until now. I’m glad it’s finally going to be occupied and hope the new couple will be good neighbors. And most of all I have to stop thinking about one of them.
I’ve never been attracted to cowboys before, but there is something about Luke that I can’t quite seem to shake. But I need to. He’s obviously taken and straight.
When Ava smiles at me as she turns to go into her apartment, I wave.
Glancing back at my canvas, I feel so frustrated. I’m no closer to an idea than before. Why do I do this to myself? No one will ever see this work when it’s completed. This painting is for my eyes only now that Malcolm is gone. He was the only one I was ever comfortable sharing my work with. He got it. He knew what I was trying to say with each piece.
Like everyone else at Mockingbird Place, I thought he would live forever, even though he was eighty-two when he died. In June, we had his memorial in the courtyard and planted a tree in his honor near the pool.
I see Ava heading back to the parking lot and wonder how many more boxes she and her boyfriend have to unload. I decide to finish my coffee before I put my brushes away and help them.
I step back from the blank canvas. Should I paint another portrait of Malcolm? No. I just can’t bring myself to paint him again. It hurts too much. I need more time. Right now, I could use an idea for this canvas, but I’m at a total loss. Damn it.
My art continues to be therapeutic for me. When I was twelve years old my counselor suggested art therapy and I found my passion. I can place myself inside my paintings, feeling the breeze on my skin or hearing the crashing of the waves on the shore. I’m there and I don’t feel the pain. Still, my paintings allow me to gaze into the darkness of my past. They also help me release the tension and anxiety.
Actually, I wish all of my paintings could remain private. Each is so personal and carries its own meaning. Whenever anyone looks at my paintings I feel exposed and vulnerable. Dirty. I wonder if people can see my younger self weeping from the despair in my brush strokes. I definitely can, no matter the composition I’ve created, whether beach or mountain scene, whether wild animal or newborn baby, whether impressionistic or realistic. Each painting carries drops of the pain from my past.
Two of my pieces were on display for my professors to judge. I wonder if it was worth the As I got on both, because it nearly wrecked me until I was able to take them back to my storage unit. That’s where I keep my completed paintings.
This semester is so much better than last. I have a fantastic schedule and only have to be on campus two days a week. The rest of the week is mine. All mine. And the classes that I am taking don’t require students to create and present a work of art, unlike last semester.
As I put my empty cup down, I see Ava collapse and the box she was carrying crash to the ground.
A blast of electricity shoots through my body, and I toss my brushes aside and rush out my door.
“Ava. Ava.” I lift her head off the ground and start shouting for her boyfriend. “Luke. Get out here. Ava has passed out.” Where the hell is he?
Her eyes open. “What happened?”
“You passed out and fell,” I tell her.
“Oh no.” Ava rubs her hands over her belly. “Thank God, I just felt a kick. I think the baby is fine.”
Kick or not, I know she needs to see a doctor. “Where’s Luke?”
Before she can answer, I see him running up the sidewalk.
He kneels down next to me and shoves a sack in my chest. “My God, Ava, what happened?” he asks in his thick West Texas accent. “Are you okay?”