I absolutely loved this book. MY FAIR DORK is a sweet romance between two guys in college. Harold is a geeky, nerdy guy who never felt comfortable with his body, especially with his package. It is larger then
most and because of it he was tormented in high school by those who knew about it.
Owen is the school jock who is bisexual but never felt comfortable with his gay side after coming out to
his parents in high school he kept his sexual identity a secret and dated girls, but he always wondered.
Owen decides to make Harold his project by getting him to come out of his shell, but Owen is finding himself
attracted to Harold.
What I loved is that this could have easily been a traditional romance but it isn’t which makes it even better. Harold is so cute you just want to hug him and tell him he is not as horrible looking as he thinks.
And you cannot help but want to urge Owen and tell him that it is ok that he is gay.
You need to go and get this book now.
They say a guy can never be too hung. Well, Harold Jacobs doesn’t know who they are, but they’re wrong. Socially awkward for as long as he can remember, Harold feels his enormous package is just one more thing to be embarrassed about. Especially once hunky and popular
Owen McKenzie notices it in the showers.
Owen knows he’s bi, but he keeps that secret close to his chest. He likes Harold, and wants to help him shed his dorky image and maybe even find a boyfriend. Still, Owen can’t stop obsessing about Harold’s equipment. And much as he doesn’t want to flip-flop on his sexuality, Owen does want to test-drive what Harold has between his legs.
Their friendship erupts into full-blown lust. But can Owen accept the loss of his golden child status and be Harold’s boyfriend? And can Harold outgrow his insecurity in time to keep the man he loves?
“I was born in England. But I moved here when I was nine.” It had been too late to change Harold’s name to something more normal. But his mom seemed to think the move had been a good idea. She hated her ex-husband, Harold’s dad. And, apparently, she hadn’t been happy until there was an entire ocean between them.
“Wow. So you’re foreign? You don’t have an accent.” Owen sounded impressed, or maybe hopeful. Like Harold would pull out a smooth, James Bond burr and a tuxedo to match.
“I spoke with one when I first moved. But…” He shrugged. All the kids had made fun of how he talked when he started fourth grade. They thought he sounded posh. Some even said, “gay”. Harold didn’t know how an entire country—and all its former colonies—could be gay based on an accent. How would they make little baby Brits?
Of course, maybe the gay thing had bothered him more because at that age, he’d already realized he was.
“Too bad. Girls love a guy with an accent.”
Harold coughed, spraying a couple droplets of tea across his scone. He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Don’t think we have to worry much about that.”
Owen paused his assault on his eggs and looked up. His blue bell eyes were wide and confused. “What? Why?”
It felt surprisingly good to know something Owen didn’t. But it was silly, really. Harold figured everyone knew. “I’m gay.”
“Oh.” Owen did a double take, and raked his eyes over Harold’s clothes once again.
Harold guessed that Owen had to re-arrange his opinion of Harold’s clothes now that he had to match them up with a different sexual preference.
“Wow. It’s worse than I thought.” Owen stabbed a sausage and bit off half.
“What?” Harold looked down at his shirt, wondering if he’d managed to spatter tea on himself during his sputtering. No. It was clean.
“Aren’t gay guys supposed to be all stylish and hip?” Owen smiled as he said it—making it sound like he was flirting, or at least teasing.
Harold frowned. “Of course. And we all have lisps, and tiny dogs we spoil.”
Owen’s forehead creased in the middle, as if he wasn’t sure whether Harold was joking. “Nah.” He ate the other half of his sausage, and then picked up another. “I know that’s not true.”
Good lord. Harold closed his eyes and pinched his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Owen was so…he didn’t even know how to describe it. It was an optimistic innocence Harold had heard about but never seen in real life. Maybe it was a Midwestern thing.
“This guy I knew from the football team, Tank, he’s gay. And he isn’t like that at all.” Owen thought about it for a moment, staring past Harold’s shoulder to look off into space. “Though I could see him with a dog.”
Harold wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or joking. But since Owen was so earnest most of the time, he guessed Tank guy was the kind to pamper a Chihuahua.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn’t sure if she writes erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris’s dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.
She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men getting their freak on, and she’s never missed an episode of The Walking Dead
My website: http://www.thedaisyharris.com
Siren Page: http://www.bookstrand.com/daisy-harris
Book buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/my-fair-dork