Espresso Martinis - Sweet Cocktails Series Book #5

By Susan Horsnell

Ace Barrett is a barista by day and a mixologist at The Sweet Cocktails bar on George Street, Sydney, Australia by night.
He shares an apartment in the upmarket suburb of Darling Harbour with his lover.
But working two jobs means Ace rarely sees the man and their relationship is a disaster waiting to happen.

Duke Edmond is a man who is fed up with his life as a lawyer and his two-timing soon to be ex.

After Duke stumbles into the Sweet Cocktails Bar after a few too many drinks, demanding an espresso martini, Ace makes a decision that will change both of their lives.

 

Book #5 in The Sweet Cocktails Collection. A stand-alone read. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Horsnell
• Release date: Jun 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223071464

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

Book preview

Contents

Contents

Copyright

Disclaimer

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Nick & Noras Martinis

Chapter One

About the Author

ESPRESSO MARTINIS

Copyright © 2024 by

USA Today Bestselling Author - Susan Horsnell

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon, or similar organizations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

Disclaimer

This story is set in Sydney Australia and written in Australian English.

This is a work of Gay Romantic Fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Edited: Redline Editing

Proofread: Leanne Rogers

Published by: Lipstick Publishing

Chapter One

A martini glass with olives in it Description automatically generated

ACE

Friday September 4th

I dragged my tired arse from the lift, crossed the carpeted hallway, inserted the key, and unlocked the door to my unit in Darling Harbour, ten minutes from the City of Sydney.

I’d bought the place around ten years earlier at the age of twenty-three and used every spare cent from working two jobs to pay off both the unit and a café I co-owned.

My home was located in a building on the harbour front, and from my favourite living room chair, I enjoyed the view of boats coming and going. The vessels varied from metal fishing dinghies to impressive executive yachts that must have guzzled fuel at a mind-boggling speed. I loved watching as the larger craft effortlessly cut through the water, but I wasn’t envious. I hated being on or in the water. It was one of the many things about me that irritated my partner, Jamison. He loved the beach and being on the water and was always nagging at me to take him on a cruise.

Jamison had sweet talked his way into my life and my home three years earlier and allowing him to do so was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

My partner was lazy, demanding, and believed everyone owed him because his father had walked out when he was eleven years old, leaving him with an alcoholic, abusive mother. Lately I had felt like I needed an escape also. Jamison hadn’t been in employment for almost three years after telling the café owner who employed him that sweeping and mopping were beneath him and no longer acceptable.

Since his dismissal, Jamison had nagged at me to work in the café owned by me and my younger sister, Natalie. Perky Bean, as we’d named our business, was located in a shop on the ground floor of the building where I lived.

Natalie, four years younger than me at twenty-nine years old, had started working in fast food joints at the age of fourteen and saved every dollar she could to pay for half of our dream. We had started talking about owning a café when she was only twelve years old, and while I waited for her to finish school, I’d worked in a café by day and a cocktail bar by night. With money left to us by our grandmother, we were able to buy our units—Natalie’s was two buildings to the east of mine—and our much dreamed of café.

It went without saying that there was no way in hell that either of us would dismiss one of our loyal, hardworking staff to make room for Jamison. I could see it now…He would strut around like he owned the place, refusing to listen to either me or Natalie, giving orders to our staff, and upsetting customers while doing absolutely nothing that resembled work. Natalie had told me in no uncertain terms that she would never approve hiring him. She detested the man and had done so since first meeting him.

Over the past couple of months, my fear of being on the receiving end of Jamison’s temper by refusing his demands, had transitioned to anger at his ongoing disrespect for me.

Life had been one explosive fight after another with the arsehole who constantly complained about my working two jobs and refusal to hire him which would relieve some of the financial pressure he was under. I couldn’t get through to him that a position at Perky Bean was out of the question since Natalie had forbidden the possibility, which she had every right to do so being co-owner, and I needed to retain both jobs because I was supporting his arse by paying his car payments, buying expensive clothes he demanded, and giving him money to pay down his credit card debt which I suspected, for various reasons, he wasn’t doing.

For the millionth time, I wondered why the fuck I’d rolled over and allowed him to invade my life. From our first meeting, I’d barely liked the man and hadn’t wanted any kind of relationship, yet I’d allowed it to happen. I was a fool.

Around three years earlier, Jamison had admitted the real estate agent, who managed the property in Balmain where he lived, refused to renew his lease, and he’d begged me to help because he had nowhere else to go. That fact should have been a red flag. Who didn’t have friends or family who could help out in unfortunate circumstances?

Natalie had warned me to tell him I wasn’t interested in anything long-term, and that he wasn’t welcome to move into my unit. She insisted he was the very worst kind of parasite and I’d regret allowing him into my life.

Despite my sister’s warning, I’d relented and agreed to allow him to stay until he found somewhere else. Jamison had made no attempt to move, claiming we were meant to be together. After losing his job, and not bothering to find another, he had no chance of being approved for somewhere and I was stuck with the freeloader.

I pushed the unit door open to find clothes strewn over the floor in the entry foyer and frowned. Jamison was a slob and left things everywhere, but they weren’t clothes I recognised.

I dropped my keys into a bowl on a small table in the foyer, and hearing voices coming from the direction of our bedroom, headed in that direction.

I pushed the bedroom door open and found Jamison being fucked by a man I’d never seen before. Rage rose in me at the speed of a bullet train.

Get. The. Fuck. Out!

Both men shot out of bed, startled by the roar of my voice.

Why are you home so early? Jamison asked, accusation in his voice and not an ounce of guilt.

Get the fuck out of my home…NOW!

The stranger pushed past me, his eyes lowered and cheeks glowing pink with embarrassment. Minutes later the unit door slammed shut. He’d either dressed faster than some super hero, or he’d left the unit naked. I didn’t give a fuck which it was.

Jamison leisurely climbed from the bed, rummaged in his drawers and pulled on a pair of track pants and t-shirt before turning to face me.

I don’t know why you’re angry. It didn’t mean anything and if you were around more often I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.

Filled with almost overwhelming rage, and for the first time in my life, I felt the urge to lash out and punch him. Instead of lowering myself to commit violence, I crossed to my walk-in robe and yanked a large suitcase from the top shelf. I threw it on the bed, pointing to where it had landed.

Ten minutes and whatever you don’t pack will be on the street via a path from the window.

Jamison shook his head and smirked. Grow up, Ace. You and I know I’m not going anywhere. He shrugged nonchalantly. So I made one mistake, get over it.

Bullshit. You’ve been doing this for years, things are starting to make sense now.

I’m not leaving, I have nowhere to go.

That’s your misfortune. I pulled my mobile phone from a pocket of my pants, searched the number of the local police station and called.

When a male answered in a gruff voice, I explained. Hi. This is Ace Barrett. I need a trespasser removed from my home.

The officer took my address after I explained I’d asked Jamison to leave but he was refusing. He accepted my assurance that the unit was mine and verified Jamison was on the premises without my consent. I disconnected the call and watched Jamison frantically throwing his belongings into the suitcase.

You’re a fucking arsehole. I should have left long ago. You were always a lousy fuck which is why I needed to look elsewhere.

I wish you had left a long time ago. No…I wish you had never moved in, I certainly didn’t want you here.

A hard knock at the door sounded, and I left Jamison in the bedroom while I went to answer. I threw the door open and greeted the two police officers before inviting them inside.

We got a call you have someone trespassing on the property. The male cop stated.

Before I had a chance to respond, Jamison stormed to where we stood, wheeling the suitcase in front of him.

I’m leaving, he barked angrily.

We’ll escort you downstairs, Sir, the female officer advised.

I held out my hand. Keys.

Jamison reached into his pocket, withdrew a bunch of keys, and I waited