by Brent Archer

Book Cover: Throuple Honey
Editions:Kindle: $ 4.99
ISBN: 979-8-9871256-6-3
Pages: 187
Paperback: $ 13.99
ISBN: 979-8-9871256-7-0
Size: 8.00 x 5.00 in
Pages: 226

After losing his husband, firefighter Shane Ward takes a job as a beekeeper far from the life he’d built in Seattle. Returning to his roots, he leans into farm life, and despite the guilt for looking at someone else, he can’t help his attraction to his two bosses.

Dante Sarcletti and Emmett Simpson are in a slump. Dante works long hours keeping the farm going while Emmett works late into the night on the business end of things. Hoping to spice up their relationship, they look to their new beekeeper for what should have been some no-strings fun.

As the summer goes on, their relationship grows, but a fast-moving fire threatens everything Dante and Emmett have built, as well as stirring up deep emotions in Shane. With everything at stake, they face the real possibility of all their lives going up in flames.

Throuple Honey is a stand-alone book loosely connected to the Rain City Tales Series.

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Taking a seat on the chair opposite the couch the man sat on, Emmett settled back. “What brings you out here?”

“I need a change from the city. Your beekeeper position would be perfect. My dad kept bees and sold honey. I used to help him when I was a kid.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re getting into.” Emmett heard the back door open and shut. “I think Dante just came in. He should be here in a couple of minutes.”

“No problem.”

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Emmett couldn’t help his curiosity about this guy’s story. The sadness in his eyes and the cautious tone of his words intrigued him, to say nothing of his smoking-hot features. Emmett guessed the guy to be well over six feet since Emmett clocked in at five-eleven. Dark, wavy hair and green eyes that matched his fitted, green button-up shirt. He had classic features, not unlike statues Emmett had seen in an Ancient Greece exhibit—the idealized male form the sculptors had created. Perseus had nothing on the man sitting in front of him.

“What do you do in Seattle?” Emmett caught the momentary wince, and another flash of sadness briefly crossed over his face.

“Uh, I was a firefighter. Like I said, I need something different.” He didn’t elaborate, and Emmett didn’t press him.

Glancing behind him, Emmett found his partner silhouetted in the doorway, staring at the man on the couch. He stood and crossed the room to stand at Dante’s side.

The man on the couch got to his feet. “I’m Shane Ward. I saw your ad about the beekeeper’s position. Thanks for interviewing me.”

Shane. That’s his name. Emmett realized he hadn’t asked, and Shane hadn’t offered. More curiosity flared at his guarded nature.

“Dante,” his lover said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. They met in the middle of the room and shook. “You’ve met my partner, Emmett.”

“I have now.” Shane stepped past Dante and reached out his hand. Emmett took the offered hand and shook. A firm grip, but Shane wasn’t one of those macho men trying to assert dominance. Up close, Emmett could see the true color of his eyes—hazel with the green prominent and a stunning yellow halo around the pupils. Even though he had a good five inches on Emmett, something about those eyes and his stature made them feel like he was on the same level.

Releasing Shane’s hand, Emmett cleared his throat. “I assume you have a lot to discuss.”

“You can stay if you want,” Dante said, his attention firmly focused on Shane.

He’d never felt jealousy toward handsome farmhands who’d come into their employ before, and Emmett found himself totally at ease with Shane’s presence. The three of them took their seats, Dante and Emmett in their respective chairs and Shane on the couch.

“What sort of farm experience do you have?” Dante asked.

Shane shifted on the couch. “I grew up on a farm. Dad grew strawberries commercially. He also kept bees and made honey as a side business.”

“So, you helped your dad in the berry patch?” Dante kept his focus solely on Shane.

“Part of being a farmer’s son. I worked in the fields when I was old enough to help pick, probably around five years old. The beekeeping came when I was a teenager.”

Though Emmett had fond memories of visiting his grandparents on their farm in North Dakota, he’d never acquired the skills for farmwork. He’d grown up a suburban kid, and once he’d moved to Seattle, his fate as a city boy had been sealed, at least until he’d met Dante.

“When did you become a fireman?” Emmett asked, more out of curiosity than as part of the interview. That slight wince happened again. If Emmett hadn’t already seen it, he might have missed the motion.

“About eight years ago. I trained with the Seattle Fire Department and worked out of Lake City. Last year, uh, I decided to go back to my roots.” Pain shone back at Emmett. Something had happened to Shane, but Emmett didn’t feel comfortable questioning him further.

Briefly glancing at Dante, Emmett couldn’t tell if he’d caught the wince. “Tell us about your family’s place.”

The tense line of Shane’s shoulders softened while they talked about his life growing up on the farm and his experience, specifically with tending bees and making honey.

Dante turned to Emmett. “Yes?”

“Absolutely.” Even though he’d agreed to let Dante have full control over hiring the farmhands, Emmett couldn’t help the flush of warmth he felt toward his lover for seeking his approval.

Returning his gaze to Shane, Dante grinned. “Well, Shane, the job is yours if you want it. Five hundred a month, plus we provide room and board. You’ll have your own tiny house. We have all the farm labor up to the house for breakfast and dinner, and you’ll have an hour or so off in the middle of the day to grab lunch or whatever.”

A smile cracked the stoic exterior of Shane’s face, and he rose to stretch out his hand again. “Thank you. When do you want me to start?”

Dante took his hand and shook it. “Anytime. We renovated your tiny house a few weeks ago, and it’s ready when you are.”

“Sounds good. The lease runs out on my apartment in a couple days. I’ll be back on Friday if that’s okay with you.”

“Works for us,” Emmett said, standing as well. He shook Shane’s hand. “Welcome to the farm.”

COLLAPSE

About the Author

Brent Archer was born in Spokane, Washington, and lived there most of his adolescent life. At 18, he left for Seattle to attend the University of Washington for Electrical Engineering. Quickly, it became apparent he wasn't cut out his physics and calculus classes, especially differential equations, so he switched his major to International Studies with a minor in history. After graduation, he got several accounting jobs as he pursued an acting career in musical theater and dance. Though he hung up his tap shoes and dancing boots a few years ago, Brent still performs in acapella singing groups and a folk band around the Seattle area.

Brent met the love of his life in 1992 in the locker room before dance rehearsal. In 2000, they bought a house together, and in 2013, they were able to marry when Washington state voted in marriage equality. Together, they've had many adventures, exploring other countries and cultures.

Though writing most of his life, Brent came to romance in 2012. With the support of his husband and his two romance novelist cousins, Brent embarked on a writing career. He’s loving the journey, finding inspiration and a story everywhere he goes, whether it be staring out the window at the local coffee shop, tucked in a booth at his favorite pub, driving through each of the fifty US states, or riding the train to explore the world.



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