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Lost but Not Forgotten
Lost but Not Forgotten
Lost but Not Forgotten
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Lost but Not Forgotten

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Aryan Gregor the II is the lead singer of the loved and hated band, the Cum Buckets. When a member of the audience whacks him over the head with a beer bottle, he finds himself struck by amnesia. He can’t remember the band, his friends, or his lover, Dante. As a psychotic pigeon-lover vows to end his life, he must navigate a world where his dad is pushing him to be what he was and Dante is helping him discover who he is. He comes to realize love transcends all, and that even if his memories never come back, he can fall in love with Dante all over again.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherEvernight
Release dateAug 25, 2023
ISBN9780369508713
Lost but Not Forgotten
Author

Penelope Rivers

Penelope Rivers is a bestselling author of erotica, romance novels and short stories. A hopeless dreamer, she spends her day thinking about all things fantasy, romantic and hot. It is her view that when you start choking on the occasionally dry bread of life, you need something sinfully delicious to chase it down with. Currently, she lives in Utah with an abnormal amount of pets.

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    Book preview

    Lost but Not Forgotten - Penelope Rivers

    Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

    www.evernightpublishing.com

    Copyright© 2023 Penelope Rivers

    ISBN: 978-0-3695-0871-3

    Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

    Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

    WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

    This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    LOST BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

    Cum Buckets, 1

    Penelope Rivers

    Copyright © 2023

    Chapter One

    When Aryan woke up, his head was pounding. The last thing he could recall was his most recent case buying property from unwilling homeowners, and his date with Griffin. Groaning, he opened his eyes, and his pounding headache was only made worse by the glaring white light all around him. It took him several moments to realize he was in the hospital. What the hell had happened to him? He blinked, trying to clear the spiderwebs from his head, before fastening his gaze on a tall, thin man with messy auburn hair and pale skin. A man he didn’t recognize.

    He groaned before mumbling, What the hell happened?

    Thank God, the man said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it so tight it almost hurt. Someone threw a beer at you during the concert, and it knocked you out and gave you a hell of a concussion.

    He pulled his hand from the other man’s grip, not wanting Griffin to see this and think for the umpteenth time that he was cheating. I’m sorry, he said, his voice hoarse for some reason. Who are you again? And why would I be at a concert? I’m a lawyer.

    If the man had been pale before, it was nothing compared to now. His face matched the starched white sheets of the hospital bed. I … I’m Dante, your boyfriend of three years, and you’re the main singer of Cum Buckets.

    What? The news alarmed him to the point that he sat up suddenly in bed, but the result was a dizzying flash of pain. He took a shuddering breath as Dante pressed the call button on the bed, alerting the nurses that they needed assistance. You’re not my boyfriend. Griffin is my boyfriend. And can someone call my parents? My dad will be pissed that I can’t work tomorrow.

    Before Dante could answer, a nurse bustled into the room, her salt-and-pepper hair curling around her ears. A grin crossed her face at the sight of his open eyes, but it was gone in nanoseconds when Dante turned toward her, serious. He doesn’t remember me. Us. The band.

    I’ll go get Dr. Stephen, the nurse said, licking her dry, cracked lips.

    Silence fell, as heavy as the weight he’d been bench-pressing at the gym last week. Aryan didn’t know this man, yet he was gazing at him with such sad, loving eyes. It almost frightened him, though he wasn’t sure why. The doorknob turned and the thin, wiry doctor who looked like he ate nothing but string beans and smelled of cabbage soup came bustling into the room with the nurse.

    I need to examine him, the doctor—presumably Dr. Stephen—said.

    I’ll call his parents. Eyes downcast as he stood, Dante dug around in his pocket and pulled out a phone. He backed up, swallowed, then disappeared into the hall.

    Meanwhile, Dr. Stephen ran his fingers over his head. Aryan cringed when the man’s fingers caressed the sensitive lump on his head, made by a beer bottle. Or so the man, Dante, had said. What is the last thing you remember?

    Though it felt like even thinking caused severe stress on his brain, he squeezed his eyes shut, recalling yesterday. I went to court and won a case. Gave a talk at the law school. Had dinner with my boyfriend. That’s it.

    The doctor whispered something to the nurse, then nodded at him. All right, sounds like you have some amnesia. I’ll talk to Mr. Hung Lee and see what tests we can run. This is a surprise. The damage to your brain from the beer bottle was minimal.

    Hung Lee? Who’s that? Amnesia. No. So, he’d really forgotten all about his life? He thought of Dante and his tousled auburn hair. The man caused his blood to stir, but he couldn’t believe he’d given up on Griffin, a man he’d swore to both him and his father that he would marry. And what was this nonsense about being a singer? He’d never had vocal talents. Hell, he hadn’t even taken choir in school. The thought that he’d given up being a lawyer, even though it was a job he disliked, shocked him. He sat in silence, twisting the sheer white sheets of the bed in his tense fingers. A moment later, Dante reentered the room, his eyes downcast, his brow furrowed.

    His parents are coming, Dante said, heading over to the bed. He made a motion to grab his hand again, then thought better of it and stopped himself. This was something Aryan was thankful for. Dante, though he was his boyfriend, was a stranger to him. Regardless of what had happened in the last three years, he was no singer. And he wasn’t sure if

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