Got Me Talking

GOT ME TALKING VET SHOP BOYS BOOK 7 CASEY COX Copyright © 2023 by Casey Cox | All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS Connect with Casey Synopsis 1. Jeremy 2. Montgomery 3. Jeremy 4. Montgomery 5. Jeremy 6. Montgomery 7. Jeremy 8. Montgomery 9. Jeremy 10. Montgomery 11. Jeremy 12. Montgomery 13. Jeremy 14. Montgomery 15. Jeremy 16. Montgomery Epilogue Also by Casey Cox CONNECT WITH CASEY Get cover reveals and exclusive excerpts in my newsletter. GET HERE > * * * Join my Facebook group for giveaways and shenanigans. JOIN HERE > * * * Follow me on Amazon to never miss a new release. FOLLOW HERE > SYNOPSIS What do you call a herd of rhinos? A crash. That about sums up my life, too. Having spent the last three years caring for my dying mother, I need a new leash on life. So I say goodbye to the UK and take a job opening at a small-town vet clinic in the US. Via a layover in New York. Where I get, ahem, laid over. With a man. Not something I've ever done in my forty-three years. Not something I intend on repeating. Which won't be a problem since I'll never see the guy again… Until I step into the local bakery. There's no way anything can happen between Jeremy and me. I'm lost, grieving, and, oh yeah, straight. He also happens to be fifteen years younger than me. So what is it about the sexy baker that's suddenly got me talking? Got Me Talking is book 7 in the Vet Shop Boys series and can be read as a stand-alone. Expect a silver fox British vet having a bi awakening, an adorable baker with a stutter, age gap, plenty of humor, found family, and a heartwarming happily ever after! JEREMY "I can't have sex with you." Six words no one ever wants to hear during a hookup. "Oh." Hope deflates in my chest. Luckily, we're not too far into proceedings. Shirts have come off, my pants are around my ankles, and Anthony's hand is on my briefs, cupping my cock. Which is also deflating. "Why?" I ask, dreading the answer. "Well…" he begins. "It's just… Your, uh… I've never had sex with a…" Our eyes lock. He was going to use that word. It starts with R and rhymes with on guard. Which is exactly how I am right now. I take a step forward, refusing to cower. I'm not going to let this asswipe reduce me to nothing just because I have a stutter. "Y-yes?" I challenge him to finish his thought. "I'm just… Not into you. The vibe ain't right. Okay?" The vibe ain't right? Cringe. For a second I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. "Fine." I pull my pants up. "Y-your loss." Grabbing my shirt off the floor, I slip my head through it. As I pull it over my chest, I deliberately slow the movement, letting the guy see exactly what he's missing out on. I may be a baker and enjoy sampling my creations every day, but my abs are rock hard and smoking hot. If I do say so myself. I leave his place without exchanging any more words. What's the fucking point? This is the story of my life. My parents took me to a speech-language pathologist right after my third birthday, worried that my stammering was something more serious than just the normal struggle kids face when learning to talk. Years of speech therapy followed, but despite trying everything and doing my best, I haven't been able to eradicate my stutter. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. It's a nightmare. My self-esteem. Shot to shit. My ability to make new friends. Non-existent. Finding a hookup willing to fuck me. Well, we just saw how that went. One of the worst, most frustrating things is that I know exactly what I want to say, I just have difficulty getting it out. People often mistake my stutter as a sign I'm stupid or shy or nervous, but in reality, it's none of those things. My mouth simply struggles to pronounce the word, sound, or syllable it needs to make. It's hard to describe, but it's like I can feel the disconnect between the word my brain is thinking of, and my mouth's ability to enunciate it. I'm powerless to do anything about it. I have no choice but to stand there like a fool, watching as people judge me, laugh at me, or downright reject me. I want love. I want a boyfriend. But it's not fair, or even realistic, to expect I'll ever find someone willing to put up with a guy like me. I've become so self-conscious about it I only ever let a very, very small group of people get close to me. People I can trust and feel safe and comfortable around. The bell jingles as I stomp through the front door of the bakery. "You're back," Tyler exclaims, spinning around. "How did it—" His face drops when he sees me. "D-dont want to t-talk ab-b-bout it." Fuck. My stutter gets worse whenever I'm tired, under stress, feeling hurried or pressured, or, as I am right now…angry. I wanted a hookup, not a one-way ticket into a spiral of self-doubt and loathing. Tyler used to be a vet at the clinic a few doors down. Then he met Daly, the owner of this bakery and my boss, and quit being a vet to work here. He's one of the few people I've ever met who didn't even bat an eyelid when I opened my mouth. He makes me feel seen… And heard. But even though he's become a good friend, I'm too raw now to open