Just A Taste - A Blurred Lines Series Introduction: Blurred Lines Series

By Peyton Landry

Every great love story has a beginning…

When Corbin Macintyre is asked by Shellie VanDerBeek to have sex with her bi boyfriend, Corbin appreciates the novelty of a reckless charge into adulthood after the burden of almost four years of university.

The wild couple's erotic fantasy of selecting a bed partner for each other is to be one night of abandonment, with four bodies sharing a room and a bed. Corbin is to sleep with Brent. Shellie is to sleep with the guy Brent picks for her.

Corbin's biggest concern is the straight funk he'll witness in the process of helping the couple fulfill their fantasy, having no idea he will meet the man who will steal his heart and become the brightest part of his future after graduation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peyton Landry
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781775083498

Peyton Landry

Peyton Landry is a Canadian author of blended romances, merging gay and straight love stories into one amazing book. She lives just outside of Toronto with her high school sweetheart, two teenagers, and two rescued cats. She spends most of her writing time outside in her yard, lounging in a Muskoka chair no matter the Canadian weather, and her love of Canada and hockey keeps her novel settings genuinely Canuck, and the score usually in favour of the Maple Leafs. 

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Just a Taste © 2019 Peyton Landry

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise – without prior written permission from the author, Peyton Landry:

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Duplication of licenced art materials via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright laws and is subject to prosecution. Finalized art materials copyright is held by the author, Peyton Landry.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are a product of the authors imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Cate Ashwood Designs © 2019

Edited by Ann Attwood Editing and Proofreading Services

ISBN  978-1-7750834-9-8  First Edition

www.peytonlandry.ca

Just a Taste

Peyton Landry

Chapter One

Toronto, Ontario, Canada,

Ryerson University Campus

Corbin Macintyre

THE BOTTLE OF ORANGE juice on my blue lunch tray topples over when I dodge a backpack being swung over someone’s shoulder in the crowded caff. The bottle rolls, and I angle the tray to keep it from flying off. As the bottle comes toward me, I tip the tray back, and I wait for it to take out the greasy chicken fingers and fries I’ve purchased on Ryerson University’s meal plan—a meal plan that will be the death of me.

Sorry, the guy says when he sees he’s almost dumped my lunch.

No biggie. I got it, I tell him, still trying to corral the out of control juice with only one hand on the tray, the other gripping my backpack at my side, keeping it responsibly under control and out of the air.

I ignore the guy’s stupidity and head in the direction of our typical table, happy to see Spencer Hayes waiting for me.

Let me see, he says, taking a sip of his coffee and motioning to my arm.

I toss my pack on the seat beside him and slip my tray onto the table. When I roll up the right sleeve of my black T, Spencer’s crystal blue eyes dance, and his smirk shows his amusement of my latest move toward independence.

Mom seen that yet? he asks.

I grin, studying the large black Celtic knot now blazoned on my shoulder cap as a drunken nod to my parents’ Irish heritage. No. Haven’t been home since I got it done. I can hardly believe it’s there.

And will be forever, Spencer says. He shakes his head while running a hand through his short blond hair, in shock with such a permeant exhibit.

I shrug. No matter what you or Mom thinks, I like it.

How long?

I chuckle, rolling my sleeve down. Four hours in the chair.

Painful?

Not as painful as the last time I got drunk.

Spencer laughs at my weekend escapades. I bet. And I’m glad I wasn’t around to witness the nipple ring.

I jerk back, laughing with him while narrowly missing his hand when he snaps it at my left pec. What’s a little pain in the pursuit of masculine beauty. All I need is a bit of Jameson Irish whiskey and I’m set for anything.

Corbin, the whiskey will be the death of you if the food here doesn’t get you first.

We both gawk at the crap on my plate. I’d prefer to eat better. I’d prefer to have my own place where I can cook, but while living in residence and finishing off this last year of my four-year architectural degree, this crap is the best I can afford.