#SpotlightSunday - Remaking Raine (Pine Ridge #3) by Shae Michaels


This week's #SpotlightSunday shines on Shae Michaels' and the latest in the Pine Ridge series, Remaking Raine.

From the Blurb:


I have a job I tolerate but don’t really like—where my ex also still works and finds constant reasons to harass me. My love life is… depressing. Including a recent ‘boyfriend’ who thought I was just a convenient booty-call. But the final straw came when I showed up for a dinner at my parents’ house dressed in the same clothes as my middle-aged father. It was time for a whole new Raine Morrison. Being the logical man I am, I made a list. First up… getting a tattoo to symbolize my commitment to crafting a new me.


When he showed up for an appointment at my tattoo shop, I for sure thought the guy was lost or a government lackey come to bust my balls. Instead, I find out he’s just a guy looking for… something. To figure out who he is. I can sympathize. I spent so many years crafting my external image to be who I want people to think I am, to the extent that I still hide parts of myself—even from my closest friends—and I’m no longer sure how much of who I am is real or pretend. But Raine makes me feel like I don’t have to pretend. I can just be. And as our friendship grows… it seems like we might just find out who we really are… together.

CW: Mentions of parental homophobia, estranged relationships with parents, mention of parental and spousal abuse—not depicted on page—between relatives of one of the MCs, on-page workplace harassment, mention of cheating by an ex, and on-page alcohol usage to the point of intoxication.


Chapter One

I think I’m almost out of creamer. I should make sure to add that to my grocery list.

My mental survey of the contents of my fridge and what I needed to remember to get at the store was interrupted when I suddenly recalled where I was and what I was doing—or rather what I was supposed to be doing—when Chaz let out a particularly loud gurgling groan above me. Oh, that’s right, I was in the middle of having sex with my latest boyfriend. I’d spent an exhaustingly long time blowing him—which was something he only very rarely returned the favor on—and we’d since moved on to the “main event” and I was supposed to be in the moment, enjoying the way he was pounding into me, striving to reach orgasm. Supposed to be…

That whole situation would probably have been helped if Chaz’s version of sex didn’t largely consist of jackhammering into my ass, while somehow managing to completely avoid hitting my prostate. Every. Time. Really, how was that even possible? It’s right up in there. As was his cock. Which was a perfectly adequate cock. …Or at least it would’ve been if he actually knew how to use it. So, really it shouldn’t have been that difficult for him to find my prostate and nail it as he fucked me. And yet, he didn’t. At all.

I’d almost think he was doing it on purpose just to be a jerk, but I kind of doubted that he was smart enough to come up with such a devious ploy. Nor did it seem like he was doing it to edge me or draw out our encounters. Not to mention, it never really seemed like he noticed he was failing to pleasure me as we fucked. Post coitus, Chaz always had the smug air of a man who thought he’d done a good job. So, I was left with only one conclusion, which was that he was just kind of sucky in bed.

And—as mentioned previously—not in the good way.

But, resolved that I needed to at least attempt to do my part in this whole bedsheet-partner-dance—per the old maxim that it does take two to tango—I reached down to grab ahold of my only mostly still interested cock and started quickly stroking myself. Hoping that I’d have the chance to finish myself off before—

Nope. Never mind. Too late.

With one last squealed groan—really, Chaz’s sex noises weren’t all that sexy—and one more hard shove in, I could feel Chaz coming.

My hand was still on my dick when Chaz rolled off of me and flopped onto his back on the bed with a loud grunt. Should I even bother…? Nah. With a sigh, I let go of my dick, deciding that I was nowhere near my own climax and that trying to jerk myself off now would probably take way too long and be kind of awkward with him just lying there beside me. I doubted that he’d really care, but I didn’t want to chance the possibility that he might take it as a comment on his rather lackluster sexual talents. Bedroom critiques—even if they were non-verbal—probably weren’t the best way to keep a boyfriend happy.

“Thanks Ray. I needed that,” Chaz said as he lightly thunked my hip with his closed hand.

I opened my mouth to remind him that I didn’t particularly care for that nickname, then closed it again with another sigh. I’d already told him that several times. And nicknames were something a boyfriend was supposed to give you. Shortening my already one-syllable name to a one-syllable nickname was… cute? Right? At least that’s what I kept telling myself each time he did it. And it’s not like you can demand what nickname your partner gives you, can you? You just have to roll with whatever they decide to call you. That’s all part of being in a relationship with someone. Accepting the things about them that might… on occasion… more often than not… really frequently… annoy you. After all, nobody’s perfect.

“UHhmmm…” I hummed back at him.

I really wasn’t the best at… Well, lying might be too strong of a word. Stretching the truth to spare his feelings? I just didn’t have the energy or interest to feign being satisfied and happy with how our most recent bedroom interlude had gone.


What the hell…? I was initially puzzled by the odd, loud noise that had just blasted through my not at all awkwardly and uncomfortably quiet bedroom. Until I saw Chaz roll over and reach for his phone—laying on the nightstand on the far side of my bed—when the sound went off again.

That was when my not-as-innocent-and-sheltered-as-everyone-seemed-to-think brain caught up and placed what that sound was.

Motherfucking hell. It was the Grindr notification noise.

What the hell was that app doing on my boyfriend’s phone? And why the hell was he getting notifications? We’d been seeing each other for a couple of months and I’d deleted the app off of my phone over a month ago, figuring I wouldn’t be needing it anytime in the near future.

“You’re checking Grindr? Really? Right now?” I questioned as I waved a hand at both of our still-naked bodies. For fuck’s sake, Chaz had only just ditched the filled condom that had been covering his dick. “And why in the hell are you even still on Grindr?”

While I acknowledged that Chaz wasn’t the brightest man I’d ever met and dated, the baffled expression he sported on his face as he turned to look at me had me re-evaluating my already low assessment of his intelligence.
“We’re done here aren’t we?” he perfunctorily asked. “And, of course, I’m still on Grindr. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have a boyfriend?” I slowly explained to him, leaving off the heavily implied ‘duh’.

“Boyfriend?” he asked incredulously. “You’re not referring to yourself, are you? We’re not boyfriends. Just ‘cause we’ve been hooking up for a couple of months doesn’t make you my boyfriend. Come on Ray, you can’t be that naïve.”

Not wanting to admit out loud that I apparently had been that naïve, I shot back with, “We see each other three… four… times a week.”

“Yeah. Because you always put out. And it’s a short drive from my place to yours.”

“So… that’s it? I’m easy and you’re lazy?”

“I guess.” Chaz shrugged as best he could, considering he was still laying sprawled on his back in my bed. “And, no offense Ray, if I were in the market for a boyfriend… which I’m not… I’d like to think that I could do better than someone who dresses like a middle-aged accountant and with a personality like wall-to-wall beige carpeting. I mean… sure, it gets the job done, but in the least exciting and interesting way possible.”

“First… my name is Raine, not Ray. And second… I am an accountant. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. But… Shit. Doesn’t mean you have to dress like one. And are you sure your name’s not Ray? Pretty sure that’s what you told me it was.” Chaz shrugged again, seemingly completely unconcerned that he’d just found out he’d been calling me by the wrong name for months, and went back to thumbing through his Grindr account.

“I know what my own fucking name is,” I shrieked, pissed at both him and myself. I couldn’t believe that what I’d shrugged off as an affectionate symbol of our—apparently non-existent—relationship was actually just a sign of how little Chaz cared about or paid attention to me. “And… you know what? I think it’s time that you were going. For good.”

“Aw. Don’t be like that, Ray— Shit. I mean… Raine. So you thought things between us were more serious than they are. Now you know better. Doesn’t mean things between us need to change.”

“Herrmmm…. Pretty sure that they do.”

I rolled off of the bed and scrambled to get my clothes back on. I really didn’t feel like continuing this discussion or ushering Chaz out of my house while I was in nothing but my birthday suit and while my sexually disappointed and limp cock flopped to and fro. Bending over, I grabbed ahold of my boxers and khaki pants from where they were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor and yanked them back on. Then, as I was pulling my shirt back on over my head, I heard the rustle of my sheets as Chaz started moving around.

“Fine. Whatever. Be that way,” he muttered.

Once I had drawn my shirt over my head, I could see that Chaz was now sitting on the side of the bed and had grabbed his own pants and was jerking them on as he continued to irritatedly mumble under his breath.
“I will be that way,” I sharply informed him. “From now on consider my willing self and conveniently-located apartment to be off limits for you. Lose my number. Delete our texts. Block my profile on Grindr. ‘Cause I sure as hell will be blocking yours.” You know, once I redownloaded the app. If I decided to even bother doing that.
Chaz finished pulling the rest of his clothes on and stuffed his feet into his untied tennis shoes. “Like I said… Whatever. It’s not like you’re the only ass in town.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s the problem. I don’t just want to be an ass. Or a mouth. Or a hand. Or any other body part to just be used.”

As Chaz stomped out of my bedroom, I couldn’t help but reflect that this entire past year it seemed like all of the men I’d met and tried to date—whether it was on Grindr, at the bar, at the grocery store, or even at my dentist’s office for fuck’s sake—had treated me like little more than a warm body with an available orifice. I wasn’t so bitter that I was ready to subscribe to the notion that everything boiled down to all men being pigs only interested in one thing. After all, I was a man. I was interested in finding more out of life than just a willing sex partner. So, what was it about me that was drawing all of these losers to my orbit?

Frustrated with my sad love life and, at that moment, angry with Chaz in particular, I followed after him. He was just about to close the door to my apartment after him when I couldn’t resist telling him—yelling to make sure he, and my neighbors, could hear me—“If all I’d wanted was to be somebody’s hookup, I would’ve at least held out for a man with a more talented dick that could actually find my prostate!”

The slamming of my door seemed an appropriate punctuation on that particular chapter of my life.

Remaking Raine is available for purchase on Amazon and as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription.