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Donnie Bascombe has made a lot of people’s fantasies come true in his life, first in the bedroom, then on the set of his adult entertainment studio. But his best friend Logan Murdoch has just presented him with his tallest order yet—help plan the wedding of his dreams. Desire has always been Donnie’s forte. But lavish nuptials at one of Southern California’s premier oceanfront resorts? For that job, he’ll need a partner. And a mentor.

Richard Merriweather has devoted his life to planning fairy tale weddings for celebrities and royalty—only to have his own husband shatter his heart into a million pieces. Remaking the special events office at Sapphire Cove is just the distraction he needs to get his fancy and luxurious life back on track. But the groom’s brash and undeniably sexy best friend has a powerful attraction to Richard Merriweather he can’t keep secret. Problem is, Richard doesn’t do hookups, and Donnie doesn’t do relationships. The closer Donnie gets to Richard, the more he wants something different, something he’s never had before. Something that will force both men to confront the heartbreak in their pasts as they plan Sapphire Cove’s wedding of the decade and find an unexpected future for themselves.


Christopher Rice (writing as C. Travis Rice)


Book Series: 

Christopher Rice takes us back to Sapphire Cove—the luxury beachfront resort on the sparkling Southern California coast—with another unputdownable romance, and I have a little sneak peek for you. If you’ve been following this series, this is Donnie’s story.

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“Let’s focus.”

Load-in had completed hours ago, so the check-in table at the estate’s service driveway was mostly being used for staff arrivals. A few members of Harry Mitchell’s security team were hanging about, including a handsome new guy in a pricey-looking navy blue suit he didn’t recognize. But he didn’t see any sign of the porn star in question.

Because, upon a second glance, he realized the porn star in question was the handsome new guy in the navy blue suit.

With a now familiar, drowsy-eyed grin, hands resting easily in his pants pockets, Donnie Bascombe turned to face them. He’d trimmed his dirty blond scruff and styled his hair in a way that brought out its natural curl, a few of which draped his forehead, boyishly offsetting his gentleman’s attire. His tie was bright gold with an expensive luster. The suit’s rich blue fabric brought out the lighter blue of his eyes, making them twinkle.

Blue and gold, Richard thought suddenly, the same colors as my logo. He also thought he saw traces of highlights in Donnie’s hair that hadn’t been there during his first meeting, but he couldn’t be sure.

He didn’t want to be sure.

He didn’t want to be this excited about the fact that Donnie had followed his instructions.

He didn’t want to consider the implications of what else might happen if a guy as brawnily handsome and sexually uninhibited as Donnie Bascombe actually listened to him.

“I see no rodeo clowns,” Gabe whispered as Donnie started for them.

And Richard said nothing, because if this had been the moment he’d laid eyes on Donnie Bascombe for the first time—with no knowledge of his professional history—he would have grabbed the elbow of the person nearest him and asked if they had any details about the ruggedly handsome man in the designer suit.

Donnie grinned and raised his arms on either side. “So, what do you think? Do I pass muster?”

“You’re fine,” Richard said.

Clearly disappointed in Richard’s clipped, professional tone, Donnie reached into his jacket pocket and removed what looked like a small ring box. “Brought you a little something.”

Before Richard could get a good look at what Donnie was doing, his handsome shadow for the evening had fastened something tiny to Richard’s lapel. Having seized the moment of surprise generated by his dashing outfit, the artist known as Bo Bonin had pinned him like they were in high school.

Gabe was beaming.

Richard pulled his lapel out from his jacket and took a good look at the thing. Figuring if the initials DB—or BB—were staring up at him, he’d have a great excuse to remove it. Instead, it was the letter M, a loose, serpentine version of it that roughly mirrored the logo for Merriweather Events, which was the M in Merriweather rendered as wedding arches with billowing fabric forming the letter’s three stems, and tiny floral bouquets bursting atop the outside ones.

Tonight was his first night back in the saddle after a personal crisis. His trusted number two was doubting his ability to return to work, and as for the rest of his staff, he’d been greeted not with gifts, but with kid gloves. Until now. Donnie’s gift was the first kind gesture someone had done to commemorate his return to regular life. Of course, Donnie probably hadn’t figured out—

“It’s your first big event back in the States. Might as well do something to celebrate it. Something for you, I mean. Not Mr. Big Deal Birthday Boy with the monster driveway. Looks like he’s getting taken care of tonight.”

Godammit, he figured it out.

“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

The word thoughtful seemed to make Donnie’s brow tense. Maybe he’d been hoping for something more along the lines of, Take me, Daddy. “Hey, if you don’t like it, I can take it off. Just thought you should see how it looks before you make a call.”

“Oh my God, leave it on,” Gabe said. “It’s precious.”

Richard gave his number two a look that was supposed to say, I hope you won’t miss your skin.

Gabe patted Richard on one shoulder. “You boys have an amazing time together. Guest arrivals start in fifteen, so I need to go make sure valet’s in place.”

“Donnie, this is Gabe Sanchez. Without him I am nothing. I’m sure you guys will see each other again very soon.”

Donnie extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Gabe.”

And then they were alone together.

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