(Portland Heat Series, #4)
by Annabeth Albert
It’s no secret that Portland, Oregon, has some of best restaurants, shops, and cafés in the country. But it’s the hard-working men who serve it all up that keep us coming back for more…
One of Portland’s hottest young baristas, Brady is famous for his java-topping flair, turning a regular cup of joe into a work of art. Every Wednesday—aka “Knit Night”—hordes of women and their needles descend on the coffeehouse, and Brady’s feeling the heat. Into the fray walks a tall, dark, and distractingly handsome stranger from New York. His name is Evren, and he’s the sexy nephew of Brady’s sweetest customer, the owner of the yarn shop down the street. He’s also got a killer smile, confident air, and masculine charm that’s tying Brady’s stomach in knots. The smitten barista can’t wait to see him at the next week’s gathering. But when he tries to ask Evren out, his plans unravel faster than an unfinished edge. If Brady hopes to warm up more than Evren’s coffee, he’ll have to find a way to untangle their feelings, get out of the friend zone, and form a close-knit bond that’s bound to last a lifetime…
Available for purchase at
KNIT NIGHT by Annabeth Albert Excerpt 2
“Why? Am I turning you on?” My hand wandered over my fly. Not stroking, just firm pressure. We’d danced past sexy talk, far out of the friend zone, now meandering into something dark and heady. I pressed hard against my aching erection as I waited to see how far Ev would let himself go.
“Perhaps. I told you some things, now you tell me. What is your favorite thing?”
“Uh. The long, slow grinding ending in oral that you just described sounds amazing and hits a lot of my buttons. For the record, I’m totally good with…mess. And I like giving oral. Love getting my throat fucked. Being pinned down while grinding or getting my throat fucked, that gets me going.”
Ev was silent a long moment. Perhaps I’d pushed him too far. “Tell me about this throat fucking. How do you like it?”
Aw yes. I’d never had phone sex, but I had a feeling we were about to head in that direction. “Where are you right now?”
“In my bed. With a closed door. Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?”
“Knitted underwear?” I laughed as I headed for the bathroom—the one room with a lock. My usual jerk-off method was a locked door and a longer-than-necessary shower.
“Sorry to disappoint. Pajama bottoms. I worry Hala Mira could need me in the night.”
“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I share a room with a ten-year-old. I’m going to the bathroom now, though. And locking the door.”
“You require a locked door to tell me about giving head?”
“I require a locked door, a quiet house, and about three hours to show you,” I countered. “Fuck, Ev. I want you to wear me out.”
“Oh, I could. Do not doubt that, Brady. You want me to wear your throat out? Use you so much you need me to feed you some gelato after?”
“Fuck yes,” I whispered. “I’d like it if you were on the bed or in a chair and I were kneeling in front of you. Or you were standing in front of me. Me on my knees is the key thing.”
“You ever try with your head over the edge of the mattress? It happens that this bed is the perfect height for that…”
“Oh yes. Tell me more. I want to jerk off while you fuck my throat like that.”
“Ah. But I don’t want that. Perhaps we will need to find other occupation for your hands.”
Oh man. Ev knew how to turn my crank big-time. “I’m good with having my hands tied.”
I could tell from his inhalation that it worked for him, too. “How flexible are you?”
“Bendier than I look. I had to do yoga stretching exercises to rehab a skateboarding injury. Turns out I dig it.”
“Nice. Very nice. I like your mouth very, very much.”
“Like the beard? Because if you want my mouth more…exposed, I can work with that. Beard is pure Northwest laziness on my part.”
“The beard is…part of the appeal. Your mouth is very full and your beard always seems like it’s…teasing. I think I want your hair down, though, yes?”
“Go for it.” Getting into it, I pulled my hair free of the ponytail, let it flop against my shoulders. Spit gathered in my mouth like I really was about to get a go at Ev’s cock. Fuck. Just the thought had me throbbing. I unzipped to get a little more breathing room. “I want to—”
Knock. Knock. Knock. “Brady, are you in there? I don’t feel so good,” Jonas called through the door.
Fuck. I kept my curse to myself. “Just a minute, buddy,” I called.
“You need to go?” Ev said in my ear. “I understand.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“Another time, Brady, another time.”
Even if he just meant the phone-sex version of the fantasy, part of me thrilled to his words. And I was pulling hard for the in-person
The Portland Heat Series
About The Author
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
You can find Annabeth at