Every bartender should follow one simple rule—don't go home with the customers.
That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar—also known as me.
Still, I’m not keen on breaking my own rules since I know where that can lead—no place good.
But when that man makes his case with one bone-searing kiss on the streets of London, I throw resistance out the window.
What could go wrong with a hot, dirty, no-strings-attached fling before he leaves town in five days?
Trouble is, soon our nights together lead to days, to long conversations, to getting to know each other, and to something I never expected—falling ridiculously hard for a man who’s getting on a plane to America when I live a world away.
My life is here. His is there. And no amount of falling or feeling will change that one big problem.
Warning: contains hot hotel nights, loads of dirty talk, PDA all over London, and two sexy, witty, charming alpha heroes…
A Guy Walks Into My Bar is a sexy MM standalone romance! The other standalone romances in The Guys Who Got Away series include the MF romances The What If Guy, The Dream Guy Next Door, and Thanks For Last Night.
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Let me make a few things clear. I didn’t go to the wedding intending to dance with the best man, to dare him to show me a very sexy pic on his phone, or to accidentally kiss him in the hotel elevator after the reception ended.
But you know how it goes. Things just happen at weddings...
The next day, Crosby and I agree to put all those shenanigans behind us. The fun-loving, stupidly gorgeous, all-star baseball player might be my brother’s best friend, but he’s my friend too and has been for years, so it’s easy to move on, especially because I have a high-profile business to run.
But since he’s newly single and I’m always single, it turns out we both desperately need plus ones. We agree to “publicly date” over the next two weeks of galas, parties and events before his baseball season begins.
The only trouble is the more time I spend with Crosby, the more I keep imagining how much I want him to take my V-card.
And when I broach the possibility with Crosby, his answer surprises the hell out of me.