Even though I read the content warning I wasn’t prepared for how this book started out and what happened in the Prologue. But it was so well done and so necessary to the rest of the book. I can’t even find the words to describe how much this book made me feel things. I don’t think I’m even going to address much about the story itself other than to say it’s told in first person with Gil and Holden taking turns telling the story.

I was bawling my eyes out the last couple of chapters of this story but they were happy tears. Gil had suffered so much but he had also come so far in his healing journey that when I saw the HEA coming it just did something to me that’s hard to explain. Maybe it was just the mood I was in while reading it but I think most of the credit goes to the incredible storytelling / writing that is the hallmark of a Jay Hogan story.

The attraction that Gil and Holden feel for each other is acknowledged by each man to themselves but it’s more than 40% into the story before they acknowledge it to each other. So, I think this this is properly considered a slow-burn romance. 😊 However, once things heat up, they really heat up. 😊

While so much of this book deals with serious subject matter and feelings, Jay Hogan still manages to lighten things up from time to time and the following was one of my favorite bits. This is from a conversation that Holden and his employees are having. Charlie is a woman and Alek is Russian, both are shepherds who work for Holden. After Charlie makes a reference to budgie smugglers, Alek asked what they are.

Charlie pushed her hair off her face and regarded Alek with a widening smirk. “They’re speedos, gorgeous. Those tight nylon swimming togs guys wear in competition. The ones that hug every nook and cranny of a man’s—” She cleared her throat. “—wet appendages.”
“Oh.” Alek flushed to the roots of his black hair and the furrows on his brow deepened. “Why . . . budgie smuggler?”
“Well.” Charlie clapped her hands together far too gleefully. “A budgie is a small soft bird about this big, right?” She made a budgie-sized shape with both her hands. “And if you shove that sucker down the front of a nylon swimsuit . . . and maybe even imagine it moving—”
“Ooooooh!” Alek’s blue eyes flew wide and his mortified expression caused everyone to crack up. He scowled, muttered a string of Russian expletives, and lugged his pile driver on to the next upright. “But—” He looked directly at Charlie with his finger pointing downward. “Al-ba-tross, not budgie.”
Which left us all gaping in stunned silence.

I can’t forget to say how emotional and wonderful the epilogue is; it’s set 6 months after the main story concludes and I absolutely love it when authors write epilogues like this one. I was also very happy to learn that Zach and Luke will be the featured couple in the next book, The Mechanics of Lust. So that’s it from me other than to say again that I loved this book.

Reviews for Jay Hogan

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“Hang on, Tuck.” I lowered the phone from my ear and squinted at the dusty blue Hilux pulling in at the kerb. It had Miller Station stamped on its door, windows rolled down, and music blaring.
The driver killed the volume, pushed his sunglasses up his nose, and leaned across the passenger seat to speak through the window. “Are you Gil Everton?”

“Yep.” I raised a tentative hand in greeting.

“Cool. I’m Holden Miller. Let’s get you on board.” His full mouth curved up in a high-wattage smile that made my stomach do a weird-arse, vaguely familiar flip.

Oh boy. Attraction. Just freaking dandy. Eighteen months with my libido on military-grade lockdown, and it chose that moment to wake up and get with the program. Not only that, but I already knew Holden was gay from my conversations with Emily. Go fucking figure. It was a wrinkle I sure as hell didn’t need in my reboot plan. I hadn’t been laid since Callie’s death and I wasn’t looking to change that state of affairs anytime soon even if I had been able to summon any interest, which I hadn’t . . . for a while. So, yeah, there was that. Which was why my reaction to any man was . . . surprising.

“Gil, are you still there?” Tuck called through the phone as Holden disappeared back into the cab and the driver’s door opened.

I raised the phone to my ear again. “Yeah, but I’m gonna have to—” I stopped abruptly as a ruggedly handsome dark-haired beauty with a mass of lazy brown waves bouncing around his ears emerged from the Hilux. And since I was a hot mess but not dead, I drew in a sharp breath and whispered, “Wow.”

“What?” Tucker interrupted my gawping. “What wow? Gil?”

I cleared my throat and mumbled. “Nothing. I’ll call you in a day or two. Say hi to Gail and the kids for me.”

“They don’t like you either.”

I laughed. “They love me.”

“Fuck it. You’re right.”

“Bye, Tuck.”

“Wait, Gil. Gil!”

I hung up on Tuck’s protest and shot to my feet, by which time Holden had circled to the back of the Hilux and was busy opening the hatch. It gave me a few seconds to appreciate the way his dusty jeans hugged a pretty spectacular arse, and an equally dusty black T-shirt showed off lean muscular arms sporting a golden tan.

Holden caught my eye and that broad smile widened, no doubt because I was standing there staring at him like a total idiot. “First off, let’s exchange numbers,” he said. “I think you only have Mum’s. I tried to call to say I was running late, but whatever I had in my phone didn’t work.”

“Oh.” Shit. Great way to start. “Yeah, I ah, changed my number, sorry. I updated your mum, but maybe you’ve got my old one.”

“No problem. Here.” He gave me his phone and I corrected the number he had stored and then he sent me a text.

I called him back to make sure we were right, and Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” rang out through the carpark.

I bit back a smile and raised a brow. “Really? I think I should be offended.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be. Besides, it was before I met you and it kind of fits, right? You’re from the big smoke. You’ve even got your Roberto Cavalli’s on.” He pointed to the label on my jeans and heat rose in my cheeks. “Pretty fancy for a sheep station.”

I narrowed my gaze and fired back, “But you recognised the brand which says you have an eye for those things.”

He grinned. “Of course. They’re a great jean. Just don’t wear them in the woolshed.”

I laughed. “Kind of goes without saying.”

“Are those it?” He nodded to four bags of varying sizes siting in a tidy line at my feet.
I gave a mute nod, because I was well-educated like that, and wiped my hot palms down the front of my jeans.

“Great.” He sauntered over in that loose-gaited way perfected by many farmers like they had all the time in the world. About a metre away, he stopped, lifted his glasses onto his head, and a pair of dark coffee-brown almost black eyes locked with mine.

And just, damn. I was in trouble.

Then he smiled. “Welcome to Mackenzie Country, Gil.”

Mackenzie Country Series

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