Blog Tour with Excerpt: Sweet Nothings by T. Neilson!





Will a bitter bite from the past spoil a sweet romance?


Tristan Love, the youngest of seven brothers, is back in his hometown. He’s left the New York food scene and an abusive relationship behind him, but he holds his love of French pastries close to his heart and is determined to put his skills to use in a bakery of his own.


Returning to his childhood home means his meddlesome brother Simon will butt into his business, but before the bakery even opens its doors, Tristan’s delectable creations have the town’s mouths watering, and Jake, a cute mechanic, asks Tristan out. It all seems worthwhile….


That is, until the bakery burns down, Jake’s criminal past comes to light, and Tristan’s nasty ex rears his head where he is decidedly not wanted.



Book Details:


Release Date Apr 3, 2018

Type Novel

Genre MM Contemporary Romance

Words 63,173

Pages 248

ISBN-13 978-1-64080-248-3

File Formats epub, mobi, pdf



Buy Links:







EVEN at eleven and even close to the lake, the air outside the cold concrete garage was like a curtain of heat. The road shimmered under the sun, and the cars parked in front of the garage re ected the light until it was nearly blinding after the hours he spent in the dark con nes of the garage. Jake patted his pockets and realized he’d forgotten his sunglasses. Great. So Tristan has a date with a mole man.

He headed doggedly across the street to the bakery and stopped at the front door. The music was still blaring, and he knew from watching Christopher that knocking would probably make his knuckles sore and nothing else. Jake ducked around the corner and into the alley where the café and the bakery’s delivery doors both still stood open. He avoided the café door and let himself into the bakery without bothering to knock.

The back-of-house kitchen and of ce were empty. The big work table where he’d tasted the tarts stood scrubbed clean, and the dishwasher was hissing and steaming and gurgling through a cycle. It seemed likely that Tristan would be nearby. Jake wandered through the kitchen and into the front-of-house area where, oh yeah, there was Tristan. He took a moment just to appreciate the sight in front of him.

Tristan was assembling the shelves. At least that’s what Jake gured he was trying to do. He was in the middle of the oor, all the tables and chairs pushed out of the way to make space for the spars and beams of the shelving unit. And the bakery—what with the brick oven, and it being summer, and the shimmering heat, and the dishwasher running, and the fridges running, and one door closed—was pretty warm. Tristan had stripped to the waist, which gave Jake a view of his back, the V descending toward his hips, and the way his jeans clung to his ass. He was on one knee, facing away from Jake, and it would have been very nice to walk up behind him, slide his arms around those hips, and maybe nuzzle the short hair at the back of his neck a little.

Jake made a low noise in the back of his throat, but the music was loud, and Tristan didn’t seem to hear it. Besides, he was completely engrossed in the diagram of the shelves that he was holding in his hand. He was frowning at it, and even from a distance, Jake could see he’d mistaken one of the side pieces for a top piece.

“Hey,” Jake said at last. Tristan jumped.

“Christ,” he yelped as he spun around. “Don’t sneak up on a guy when he’s putting furniture together.”

“Sorry.” Jake leered. “I was enjoying the view.”

Tristan glanced down at himself and then back at Jake. Pink blossomed, rst in his face, and then his neck, and then….

“Oh Jesus,” Jake murmured. “Does that beautiful blush go all the way down?”

Tristan mouthed something and then laughed softly. He looked at himself, suddenly shy, and then, just when Jake wondered if he’d moved too fast, Tristan looked up again and met Jake’s eyes. “Maybe you should check,” he murmured.


About the Author: T Neilson writes flirty, silly, contemporary m/m romance featuring recovering addicts, mental health problems, and abuse survivors. Honestly, honestly, the books are silly. I swear.


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