Influenced: A Small-Town M/M Romance
Table of Contents
Title page
Copyright
About Influenced
Looking to connect with Felice?
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Thank you for reading
About Felice Stevens
Looking to connect with Felice?
INFLUENCED
by
Felice Stevens
Influenced
April 2022
Copyright (c) 2022 by Felice Stevens
Cover Art by: Reese Dante
Cover Photography by: Ren Saliba
Edited by Keren Reed
Copyediting and Proofreading by Flat Earth Editing
Additional Proofreading by Lyrical Lines
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from Felice Stevens at www.felicestevens.com.
Published in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
About Influenced
A MILLION LIKES vs. ONE TRUE LOVE
Bryce Bauman is one half of a famous influencer couple…until his boyfriend dumps him and puts the whole ugly scene online.
Several months later, Bryce is at the end of his rope—he’s lost all his endorsements, along with his so-called friends. Licking his wounds, he escapes to the tiny town of Serenity, Pennsylvania, where he’s surrounded by too much nature and quiet. And…the hot as hell owner of the bed-and-breakfast who makes him think there might be life beyond what’s on a screen.
Matty Wilcox has no time for spoiled brats or social media. He must keep the business running, his grumpy grandfather healthy, and himself deep in the closet. In his little town, there’s no way to come out to his friends and family and have things stay the same, so he’s better off alone.
Except life is complicated now that Bryce is staying at the bed and breakfast—he’s entirely too tempting and not as silly and shallow as Matty first thought. Giving in to his desire could only muddy the waters of the life he’s so carefully built. Any slipup would be dangerous for his business, his friendships, and most importantly, his heart. Besides, there’s no place for small-town Matty in Bryce’s big-city life. The two of them, together, don’t make sense.
Then again, since when does anything make sense when it comes to love—the greatest influencer of all?
From Lambda Literary award-winning author Felice Stevens comes a sexy, slow burn, small town romance full of heat and heart. And a few ground hogs. And maybe a snake. But it’s a little one…really.
Looking to connect with Felice?
Find all my books on my website:
WEBSITE
Join my Newsletter and get a FREE BOOK!
Join me in my Facebook reader’s group where I always show off my covers and teasers first:
Felice’s Breakfast Club
Follow me on:
BookBub
Amazon Author Page
Facebook Author Page
Goodreads
Dedication
To my parents—the greatest influences on my life.
I miss you every day.
Acknowledgments
I have the most incredible support behind me. Thank you always has to go to my editor, Keren, who is unfailingly patient with me. To Hope and Jess from Flat Earth, we’ve come a long way, and there’s still so many more repetitions for you to catch. Thank you to Dianne from Lyrical Lines for always making those great catches. And to Reese, thank you for blowing my mind and always knowing what I want even when I don’t.
Chapter One
“What do you mean, I have to move out?”
Arms filled with groceries, Bryce Bauman stared in disbelief at Grant, his boyfriend of three years. He couldn’t have meant what he said. Careful not to drop the eggs, he gingerly set the bags down at his feet.
“I live here.”
“Scott and I are together now, and he’s going to move in. We couldn’t keep it from you any longer. It wasn’t right.”
Bryce began to shake, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep from flying apart. After only a month together, he’d moved into Grant’s apartment and had always hoped to be put on the lease.
“When we get married, baby.”
God, he really was stupid.
“Wasn’t right?” Bryce hated how his lips trembled. “What wasn’t right? Cheating on me? Fucking someone else? Our friend? You said you loved me.”
Supremely unconcerned, in that arrogant manner that grated on Bryce’s nerves, Grant examined his fingernails. “You know things haven’t been right between us. Not for a long time.”
“Right? You’re lecturing me about what’s right?” He paced the apartment they shared, passing by the cameras, lights, and various other equipment they used to make their Instagram posts and YouTube videos. “You thought it was right to keep hidden the fact that you’ve been cheating on me?” He pointed a finger at Scott, who sat next to Grant. “And you…you fucking traitor. We were…I told you things.…How could you?”
Bryce had met Scott at the gym two years earlier. They were both into lifting as well as dance. They’d connected immediately and spent almost every morning together, and Scott would hang out on the weekends with him and Grant. Scott had become like his brother. People often mistook them as such, as they were both around six feet, muscled, and had bright-blue eyes. His face burned, thinking of the long talks he’d had with Scott about his and Grant’s sex life and the things he could do to keep it fresh in bed. Almost fifteen years older than him, Grant had so much more experience, and Bryce had wanted to keep his man happy.
Ignoring him, Scott took Grant’s hand, and Bryce’s heart lurched seeing their fingers laced together. Scott stage-whispered so loudly they could probably hear him in fucking Paramus, New Jersey, “You were right to tell him here. He’d only make a scene in a restaurant, and it would be all over the Internet. He’s always so volatile.”
Bryce’s jaw dropped. “Volatile? What the hell are you talking about? How am I supposed to feel when I find out my boyfriend is fucking my friend?” He didn’t care that tears leaked down his face. “Grant. How could you? I loved you so much.” A sickening thought hit him. “Did you do it here? In our bed? On the couch? How long has it been going on? Weeks?” He gulped. “Years? Oh, my God.” He sank to the chair. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Lips pursed, Grant shook his head. “You make it sound so sordid. The simple truth is, I fell out o
f love with you. You’re so clingy—like a puppy. It was fun in the beginning, but it got boring. Scott’s a grown-up and gives me everything I need.”
“You never said I didn’t,” he whimpered. “You told me you loved me. That it was forever. We have a business together.”
GG and BB was the Instagram profile they’d cultivated, and their brand boasted over a quarter of a million followers. Everything he owned, everywhere he ate, his whole life revolved around being an influencer for products.
“You might be almost thirty, but you’re still a child, Bryce. I got tired of always having to watch your ass and make sure you didn’t say or do something stupid. Our business is going to be dissolved. I’ve spoken to my lawyers, and the paperwork is being drawn up.”
“You did all this behind my back even though we’ve been putting out content every day?”
Was he screeching? He couldn’t hear anything past the roaring in his ears. A cold fog descended over him, rendering him numb. At his feet, in pieces, lay the glass candy dish that normally sat on the coffee table. Did he do that? He must’ve, as Grant’s brown eyes were wide with disgust.
“Scott is right. You are volatile.”
“You bastard.” He swept his hand over the coffee table, and the designer collection of vases they’d been gifted crashed to the floor. On his way to the kitchen, he kicked the bags of groceries out of the way, sending the eggs, oat milk, and yogurt flying against the walls, then proceeded to smash every plate and glass he could find.
By the time he stopped and looked around, Grant and Scott were at the door.
“I want you out by tomorrow.”
After they left, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing.
He hadn’t been alone in years. What was he going to do now?
**
Two months later, Bryce held his glass up high, away from the mass of sweaty bodies inside the dance club. It was a sea of shirtless men, and usually he’d be at a table with Grant in the VIP section, doing a promo for the expensive bottles of liquor they ordered.
But Grant, savvy social-media promoter that he was, had used his Instagram to his benefit and had videoed Bryce in his anger and grief, trashing their apartment over the death of their relationship. He’d put it online with a lengthy story, claiming he’d left Bryce, in fear for his life. Grant’s friends, people he’d once thought were his as well, had come out in droves, sympathizing with Grant. Potential endorsements and modeling jobs that once flooded his inbox had now dried to a trickle.
Head spinning, Bryce downed the tequila and soda, his fourth of the night, and watched two guys kissing frantically, their hands all over each other. God, he was horny. It had been over two months without sex, and he missed the feeling of another body on his. Good thing he’d found this pillar to hold him up, because he doubted he could stand on his own.
“That’s hot, right?” a voice whispered from behind, tickling his ear.
Heat enveloped him, and Bryce almost whimpered. Three years he’d been with Grant, and he’d never thought about another man.
But Grant was gone, and he was here.
Alone. Lost.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then said, “Yeah? You want to do something about it?”
The man pressed against him and began to kiss his neck. Bryce’s breathing sped up, and he couldn’t help pushing his ass into all that hardness. Their teasing lasted for only a minute, until Bryce, out of his mind with desire, turned around to see dark-brown eyes and a shock of dyed-blond hair. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, but Bryce didn’t care what he looked like.
He wanted to feel.
Their lips crashed together, and though they were in public, Bryce was drunk and depressed enough not to care. “Fuck. Do it.”
The guy dragged him deeper into the shadows, between a tall palm tree and another towering pillar. Bryce didn’t even have to ask—Blondie was already unzipping Bryce’s jeans, pulling him out, and sinking to his knees. Bryce tangled his fingers in that mop of hair and rubbed the head of his dick against that full mouth. Hot, wet lips sucked him, and to his embarrassment, Bryce exploded after only a few bobs of the head and flicks of his tongue.
“Oh God, yeah.” His head hit the wall, and he saw stars.
The guy stood, opened his own jeans, and Bryce slipped his hand inside, gripped his length, and began a rough up-and-down stroke.
“Fuck, yeah. Harder. Harder,” Blondie panted out.
Their lips and tongues battled, sucking and licking, teeth biting. Hot liquid poured over his hand as the man came with a grunt and sigh.
Bryce withdrew his hand and wiped it off behind him. Blondie hitched his jeans up, and with a cocky smile, threw a thumbs-up to someone in the distance.
“You got that, Zane?” he called out.
What the hell?
Bryce peered into the crowd and saw a lanky guy with a ponytail holding up a phone. “Yup. Fuck, that was a scene.”
“What the hell did you do?” Trembling, he grabbed Blondie’s arm.
“You’re BB—Bryce Bauman, right? I recognized you. I’ve never done a celebrity before. Wait till I put it online.”
His heart sank when the nameless guy he’d let blow him walked away with that smarmy grin and joined his friend. Whatever was on the screen earned Blondie’s friend a slap on the back and a high five.
Shit.
That was fucking stupid of him. Damn Grant for leaving him so lonely and desperate he’d resorted to sex with a stranger. For a moment he wanted to walk over there and knock the phone out of their hands, but that would only give them more of what they wanted.
Sick to his stomach with humiliation, Bryce left the club and went home. He thought about calling Georgie, but considering how mean he’d been to him the last time they’d spoken, he’d probably burned that bridge. He and Georgie had grown up together and been best friends until Bryce jumped into the influencing life and let the glamour sweep him away.
In the morning, he scrolled through Instagram and winced at the flood of DMs. There were dick pics and nasty messages from people who used to be fans of “GG and BB.” Humiliated, he watched the grainy video of him and Blondie getting it on. His face was mostly turned away from the camera, and if you tried to zoom in, it pixilated to total blurriness, but the poster had made sure to tag him, with the caption: Hit up BB at the club. Nothing special. #TeamGGandScotty.
Throat tight with shame, Bryce tossed the phone away and buried his head under a pillow, but even that couldn’t drown out the sounds of the crying baby from above and the people next door moaning and groaning. The dumpy sublet apartment he’d found in a part of Brooklyn he’d never heard of was all he could afford after he and Grant had split their assets. As president of their company, Grant had taken a larger share of their fees from the beginning, and Bryce, starstruck over the fan adulation and so in love, would’ve agreed to anything. He’d had his head in the clouds and had trusted Grant implicitly to protect him.
What an idiot he was. He’d saved enough for about a year but not much longer, thinking the gravy train would last forever. Instead, his life had gone off the rails. Now here he sat, with no money coming in and nothing on the horizon, listening through the thin walls to his neighbors banging. He needed to come up with something, anything, to make money.
He had to.
Despite his vow to stay off social media, he couldn’t help scrolling through Grant and Scott’s Instagram. They were disgustingly affectionate, and Scott had no problem stepping into his role as Grant’s lover and partner.
“I just want to be there to console Grant. His heart is so heavy, and he wishes Bryce only the best as he tries to get his life together.”
Grant, the lying bastard, had put out a video and looked so handsome in his dark suit and bright-blue tie, it hurt to watch. With Scott at his shoulder, he’d put on his most sincere voice: “I spent years trying to help Bryce, but when it became apparent he wasn’t interested and continued to engage i
n self-destructive behavior that started to bleed over to me, I decided I needed to concentrate on myself and my mental health.”
“That bastard.”
After all the crying he’d done over the last two months, Bryce didn’t think he had any tears left, but after watching and listening to Grant’s lies, out they came in a great, big, wet wave. He had no idea how long he lay on the bed when a ping from his laptop caught his attention. He smiled as he read the email, and pumped his fist in the air. His agent, Edwin, was negotiating to get him a deal with a trendy men’s clothing and fitness brand. He would model as well as do promotion.
This could be a big break. His comeback. He wiped the tears off his face.
He’d heard the men’s underwear company was having a soft opening of a new store in SoHo and then an after-party, and Edwin sent him the details. As if it were an invitation to the Oscars, Bryce read and reread the one-line invite: You are cordially invited to the after-party for Todd Morrison’s UltraMod’s launch for his new men’s intimate line.
Only ten hours until the event. He needed to pick an outfit, get waxed, a spray tan, a mani-pedi, and his hair trimmed.
God, he hoped he had enough time. Everything depended on him making the best impression that night.
**
Two days later
“What do you mean, they canceled the contract?” Dumbfounded, Bryce stared at his agent. “Why?”
Edwin stared at him, perfectly microbladed brows raised in disbelief. “Honey, come on. You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As always, Edwin spoke to him as if he were a simpleton. “Bryce. BB. Sweetheart. Do you remember the after-party?”
He blinked. “Yeah. Kind of. I got a little wasted.”
Edwin snorted so hard, Bryce thought his brains would come out of his nose. “A little? You were plastered.”
“All right. So what?” He frowned, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. “I’m entitled to get drunk.”