Author Name: Pat Henshaw
Book Name: Behr Facts
Series: Foothills Pride
Pages or Words: 90 pages
Categories: Contemporary, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: AngstyG
Release Date: October 28, 2015
Big, burly CEO Abe Behr is dismayed to discover someone—possibly a family member—is stealing from Behr Construction, which primarily employs Behr relatives. Abe takes the unprecedented step of hiring an outsider, likeable CPA Jeff Mason, to go over the books and help find the culprit. They are drawn to each other as they talk to workers, including Abe’s two younger brothers and their shifty cousin.
Since he has sacrificed romance all his life to build the business, Abe’s surprised by his feelings for the handsome Jeff. He’s even more shocked when they are confronted by bigotry in the Sierra Nevada foothills community, which is being inundated by gays moving from the San Francisco area. As he and Jeff get closer, Abe must come to grips with coming out to a family and community that aren’t very tolerant. Fortunately, being the head Behr helps him find his footing and grab onto love when it bites him.
Review by: multitaskingmomma
My Rating: 4 of 5 Stars
This is a bear story. Not the shape-shifter kind. This is about Abe Behr who gave up everything personal to guarantee his family's success. Family includes the extended and not so thankful kind. He is the man to go to for a job, the man to ask money from in time of need, the man to steal from in time of...
Abe is finally done with all of that. He either gets everything into shape once more and family be damned or loose everything he worked hard for all these years. He needs a little help and it is from someone who his family does not approve of because of some forgotten reason (well, it's not forgotten but it should be).
Jeff Mason was recommended by a friend when Abe asked for someone good who could help him get his financial status in shape. Finding the thief or thieves would help. Jeff more than lives up to his job, he lives up as the friend Abe soon relies on.
Their romance does not happen. At least, Abe thinks it does not. Jeff hopes it's happening... Abe just has to get his head out of the ground and begin seeing what life is offering him. When he finally does, Abe realizes how much he had been missing out.
Are there fireworks? No. Is there thunder and lightning? No.
What we read is a slow-to-realization love affair that the quiet Abe finally sees as his future. Just like any good businessman, he quietly analyzes and decide. Thankfully, he does it in a manner that is typically Abe and we get to smile through his whole process of discovery.
This is good and romantic. There is none of the flash, boom, bang we usually get but it still leaves us with a sense of satisfaction. Recommended for those who love sweet stories between a bear and a hunk.
“You ever come up the bank to sit under my tree? Looks like a much more comfortable place to fish. Not as rocky at any rate.” Jeff took a drink of his beer as I again scrambled to keep up. “My dad called it the Fishing Tree. He seemed to think fish congregated off the shore there.”
We sat in silence. It was my turn to talk. I’m pretty good in business situations. Not so much in social ones. At social events, mostly I hold up walls. Shake hands. Grunt a lot. Let others carry the conversational load.
Lorraine set our meals in front of us. The full burger with everything for him. The grilled mountain trout and steamed vegetables for me.
“You do a lot of fishing?” I managed after a long silence.
“Not really.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “My dad said fishing couldn’t be taught. He said it was something intuitive. I never had any idea what I was doing. So I never saw any use in fishing. I never saw any fish either.”
Again, silence as I processed and caught up. “It’s not rocket science. You figure out what kind of fish you want. Where it lives. Lure it to you. Then catch it.”
He looked skeptical and almost self-conscious. “It can’t be so easy,” he said with a little laugh.
“What about the different rods, lures, tackle, stuff?” He looked so serious, as if I were missing the point. As if I didn’t understand. He was right. I didn’t.
“Look. You can catch fish with your bare hands. If you want to. The extra stuff is just extra stuff.”
“If you say so.” He shook his head, a smile still on his lips. “Have you ever caught a fish with your bare hands?”
I lifted my hands and looked down at the mess that were my paws. Calluses, nicks, cuts, punctures, blunt fingers, the bandage now off the one with the splinter. These were the hands of a man who’d framed houses as a tall, rangy preteen and had lived in construction ever since. Could I catch a fish with my bare hands?
“Yeah. All it takes is absolute stillness and patience.” I sighed. “Not a whole lot of people have both together. Somebody once told me it’s all about Zen.” Somebody else said the only reason I could do it was because I was too stupid to know it was impossible.
“Zen.” His tone said he was surprised I knew such a word.
“You know, like the Eastern religion,” I answered. “Though why we still call it Eastern is beyond me. It’s really Far West, not Far East to us.” I was grumbling and rambling. Avoiding for some reason.
He rattled me. Nobody ever rattled me. I’m Abe Behr, the big Behr.
He was studying me as intently as I was him. He appeared too beautiful, too perfect, too unscarred. I just hoped his accountant skills were as perfect as he looked.
“What kind of fish you want to catch?” I asked. Staring at him wasted our time.
He pointed his fork to my plate. “How about that? It’s good, right?”
“Trout,” I agreed. “Lots of different kinds of trout.”
He looked like he’d never eaten any in his life.
“This is trout from our lake. Have a bite.”
He’d finished his burger but didn’t make a move on my fish. His expression was split between wanting to dig in and reluctance to do so.
“Just taste it,” I growled. “It won’t bite.”
His eyes snapped up to meet mine. His puzzled stare asked if the stupid bear had deliberately made a joke or not. Then he gave a happy, hearty laugh, and his fork raided my fish.
“So? What do you think?” I asked after he swallowed.
“I think you made a great joke,” he said with twinkling eyes. “And the trout is delicious. Is this why you threw your catch back? Did you know you’d get it cooked perfectly here at the cafe?”
“Naw. I was stalking the pie. Fish was a bonus.”
“They have good pie here?”
“Wait and see.”
Meet the author
Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, was born and raised in Nebraska and promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California. Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.
Now retired, Pat has spent her life surrounded by words: Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.
Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion. Fortunately, her supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.
Tour Dates & Stops:
Parker Williams, BFD Book Blog, The Jena Wade, 3 Chicks After Dark, Divine Magazine, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, Jessie G. Books, Bayou Book Junkie, Happily Ever Chapter, MM Good Book Reviews, Charley Descoteaux, The Hat Party, Elin Gregory, V's Reads, Vampires, Werewolves, and Fairies, Oh My, Molly Lolly, Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews, Multitasking Mommas, Mikky's World of Books, Inked Rainbow Reads, It’s Raining Men, Michael Mandrake