Endless Summer

By J.M. Snyder

It's the summer before his senior year of college, and the last thing Jason Mizzoli wants to do is spend it with his parents. But when his mother books a month's stay at a family friendly resort, she won't let him talk his way out of going.

Jason's determined not to enjoy himself ... until he sees sexy resort employee Travis. After a chance encounter over breakfast, Jason thinks Travis might be just as interested as he is in getting to know each other a little better. But hooking up is easier said and done.

It isn't until Jason's mother signs him up for a stupid dance class that Jason learns what exactly it is Travis does at the resort. Now that they've found each other, finally, the summer stretches ahead of them with the promise of first love.

There's only one little problem -- Jason isn't out to his parents. What will happen if -- and when -- they find out about Travis?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jun 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781611523157

J.M. Snyder

An author of gay erotic romance, J.M. Snyder began self-publishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has worked with several e-publishers, most notably Amber Allure Press and eXcessica Publishing.Snyder’s short fiction has appeared online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Eros Monthly, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies released by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, and others.For more book excerpts, free fiction, and purchasing information, please visit http://jmsnyder.net.

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Endless Summer

By J.M. Snyder

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2012 J.M. Snyder

ISBN 9781611523157

Cover Credits: Andrei Vishnyakov

Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Endless Summer

By J.M. Snyder

A month at the lake in a leaky cabin at a tourist resort is my parents’ idea of the perfect family vacation.

Yeah, right. I’m going into my senior year at college, and my ideal vacation is anywhere my parents aren’t. But I still come home between semesters, so I’m considered part of the family. I try talking my way out of it, but no dice. When my parents pack up the car with their suitcases, my mom throws mine in, as well.

So much for a summer I’ll remember. This is sure to be one I hope I can forget.

The week before we left, I scrambled to find alternate living arrangements. Called up my frat brothers, my roommate—hell, even the girl I dated for a few months my freshman year, until she caught me with her brother. No one would take me in. They all have plans of their own…plans that involve hot sun and skimpy bathing suits on exotic beaches, languid days tanning by the pool, endless nights with fruity cocktails and all the alcohol they can drink.

Me? I’m in the back seat of my parents’ stationwagon, my iPod up as loud as I can stand it to drown out my parents singing along with Johnny Cash up front. Shoot me now.

My last ditch effort to bail on the trip earlier that morning didn’t work—before breakfast, before hello even, my mother told me under no uncertain terms there would be a family vacation and I would be going. Jason, you’re going, she said and, as far as she was concerned, that was the end of the discussion. "You don’t have to be happy about it, but you aren’t going to ruin my good time."

Then let me stay home, I told her. I have things to do here.

She just shook her head, and when Janice Mizzoli does that, no amount of arguing will dissuade her. "You need a vacation. Some time away from the books, you know? Get out and live a little before you have to be a responsible adult. You’re going."

Then I got the sob story. We’ve been doing this family vay-cay since I was little. Same car ride to the same lake house at the same tourist attraction. Just another cottage in a small, summer-camp type place with a well-trained staff and enough water to boat, swim, fish…whatever you wanted. My mother liked having a month off from playing house, and my dad liked the free rounds of golf and boat drinks on the deck as the sun set.

I won’t deny it—when I was little, I liked going to the lake. There are tennis courts and volleyball nets and swimming, boating, hiking…it’s the perfect place for a family getaway. But I’m no longer eight years old, and my idea of fun isn’t throwing back Jell-O shots with my parents looking on. I don’t want to occupy myself with campy activities, and I sure as hell don’t want to hobnob with my parents every evening.

I’m determined this will not be fun. I can think of a hundred better ways to spend the summer—to ‘get out and live a little,’ as Mom puts it—than at some cheesy lakeside resort, playing poker with my parents and learning to line dance and play shuffleboard.

* * * *

After an indeterminable amount of driving time, we finally pull to a stop in front of our cabin. It’s weather-beaten and rundown, qualities I found enchanting as a child, but now I just hope there aren’t any daddy long legs crawling around in the bathroom. Or anything living in the bedroom, field mice or flying squirrels or the like. First thing I see rustling around in my sheets that isn’t me, I’m out of here.

My dad turns off the car and gives me a big, shit-eating grin in the rearview mirror. Here we are, sport.

As if I don’t know. As if I’m ten years old and actually excited about being here. The glare I give back to him does little to dull the edges of his manic smile.

Help your mom with the bags, will you?

I roll my eyes and kick open the car door. And now I’m the valet. Perfect.

Jason Mizzoli, my mom scolds, scrunching up her face at me in that way she has that always made me feel like an ungrateful child. "Unload the trunk, would you be a dear? I’m going to air out