Goldie and the Three Bears: Storybook Editions, #2

By Romeo Preminger

Goldie is staying at his grandmother's house between his junior and senior year of college. He's living life carefree, meeting boys, and soaking up the sun in what he's calling his slutty summer. When he happens upon a secluded house in the woods, it's about to get even sluttier.

A Storybook Edition based on "Goldilocks and the Three Bears."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Romeo Preminger
• Release date: Jun 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463268858

Romeo Preminger

Thanks so much for checking out my page. I go by Romeo because I'm holding down a not-so-steamy day job while writing steamy gay stories. So I have to be a bit cagey in my bio, but I do love interacting with readers. I've been fascinated by the psychology and emotionality of gay relationships ever since I had my first crush as a teenager, and I think the truth is love and attraction can be a hot mess. When two men get together, it's triumphant, transcendent, and life-affirming while also scalding, stupefying and even enraging at times. That's the kind of relationships I write about because the journey to happily-ever-after isn't all pretty, and when it comes to love stories, the more drama the better, right? I write three series that each have their own flavor and texture in addition to standalone high heat level romances. Guilty Pleasures Editions is a branded series of high octane romantic thrillers. The Arizona series is a Southern gothic set in the 1980s and 1990s. Last, Storytime Editions are retold fairytales with lots of humor and graphic sex. Otherwise, what I can say about myself is that I'm married to a great guy, and I believe in happily-ever-after. Scratch me a little, and I might tell you more!

Book preview

Chapter One

HOW WAS IT I’d never noticed that big old Victorian house before? I stopped my trek through the pine woods and drew up to its yard, staring at the place curiously. True, I’d taken a different trail up from the beach, gambling on a shortcut through the woods to my grandmother’s house. The house before me was a tall and stately: two stories, a finished attic, steepled roofs, and a ginormous screened-in back porch. Its wood shingles were painted baby blue, and it had white gingerbread trim all around.

I’d been in town for almost a month and thought I’d seen everything. Not that the seaside village where my grandmother lived had much to offer. The well-kept mansion I’d happened upon must’ve been set back from the main roads, hidden in the scrub forest outside of town. I could see no other houses in the vicinity. The owners sure didn’t have to worry about neighbors. It was a quiet and cozy location. Well, new discoveries were pretty much the theme of the summer.

I was staying with grandmother between my junior and senior year of college. I loved the beach, and Grandma loved the company. I’d told my parents I’d get a summer job like a responsible adult, and I had put in some applications at restaurants and tourist shops. Nothing had panned out so far, and I wasn’t complaining. I probably sound like a spoiled brat, but I figured after graduation, I had my whole life to work shitty jobs. Meanwhile, I was a twink in my prime. I slept in every day, parked myself at the beach by noon, and followed mischief wherever it led me. I was calling it my slutty summer.

I’d been meeting boys at the beach, boys at the gym, even boys at the gas station bathroom I’m not too high and mighty to admit. A horny young bottom on a budget has to get it where he can, and my grandmother’s quaint, New England town was hardly a gay metropolis.

Presently, I was wearing a scandalously skimpy swimsuit and a pair of flip flops with my canvas backpack strapped over my shoulders. I had dyed my hair platinum blond and kept it buzzed on the sides and long and messy on the top. I’d gotten barbell nipple piercings and a tramp stamp above my crack that read: Boys only. It wasn’t a look the locals were used to, but I was finding it got me the right kind of attention. You might be surprised how many blue-collar townies and hockey dads on family vacation have bi-curious streaks.

Or maybe you wouldn’t be.

As I ambled around the wooded property, I discovered one of its residents was right there in the yard, outside the big, wood-shingled garage. A man, and just the type to catch my interest. A ginger bear. He was half-wearing a pair of overalls, unfastened from his well-shaped torso and hanging loosely from his hips. He was shellacking some piece of furniture set up on a work-horse.

Maybe it would be more accurate to call him a ginger otter. He looked to be about my age,