Butch Enough for Two
Sapphic Romance
by Isla Wilde
Available at all major retailers
Pairing: FF (Sapphic)
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Butch/Butch, Rivals to Lovers, Workplace Proximity, Competence Kink, Praise Kink, Power Exchange, Switch Dynamic, Slow Burn, Blue Collar
Two butches. One building. A private war over who melts first.
A tattooed motorcycle mechanic and a stoic ex-military security guard keep colliding over control of a shared makerspace and garage. Each thinks she’s the more competent butch in the room — until late-night arguments turn into a private competition over who can make the other melt first.
Frankie Alvarez runs a custom motorcycle shop with grease under her nails and a swagger she uses like armor. She doesn’t take orders. She doesn’t back down. And she definitely doesn’t need some clipboard-wielding security guard telling her how to run her building.
Dani Mercer is ex-Army, ex-everything, and trying to build a civilian life one patrol route at a time. She’s disciplined, meticulous, and impossible to rattle — until the mechanic in Bay 3 starts challenging her authority with a grin that makes her forget every rule she’s ever set.
They argue about fire exits. They trade barbs about clipboards and grease stains. They meet on the roof at midnight and pretend the tension between them is professional. It is not professional. It is the furthest thing from professional.
When a storm traps them in the building overnight, the friction ignites — and what follows is a battle for control that neither of them expected to lose. Because Frankie has never let anyone hold the reins. And Dani has never let anyone past the armor. And the discovery that they both want to — that surrender can be chosen, not forced — changes everything.
But secrets in a small building don’t stay secret for long. And when a theft ring threatens both their livelihoods and an ultimatum forces them to choose between the job and each other, they’ll have to decide: keep it professional, or fight for the realest thing either of them has ever built.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ Butch/butch sapphic romance (no femme-ing either heroine)
✅ Rivals to lovers with explosive workplace tension
✅ Praise kink and power exchange that goes BOTH ways
✅ Two switches figuring out who holds the reins (and when)
✅ Blue-collar setting with competence worship
✅ Emotional vulnerability under tough exteriors
✅ Graphic, explicit heat (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — 10 heat scenes, each doing emotional work)
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic FF scenes including power exchange and restraint), strong language, workplace conflict, a break-in/theft with minor injury, depictions of grief and PTSD/hypervigilance, and references to a homophobic hate incident. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
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Chapter One: New Lock on the Door
The Sportster is trying to kill me.
Not literally—though I did take a face full of coolant last Tuesday, and the scar on my knuckle from a snapped exhaust bolt in ’22 still pulls when it rains. But this particular 1998 Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200 Custom has a blown head gasket that’s been fighting me for two days, and I’m starting to take it personally.
“Come on,” I mutter, torquing the head bolt in sequence for the third time. My arms are slick with sweat and my back is screaming from the angle. The creeper under me smells like old rubber and WD-40, which is basically my cologne at this point. “Just seat. Just fucking seat.”
The AC died yesterday. Middle of July in a metal-roofed garage in a city that treats summer like a personal vendetta. I’ve got two box fans going and neither of them does shit except move the hot air around faster. My tank top is soaked through. The shop radio is playing Tom Petty and the reception keeps cutting out so it sounds like he’s singing underwater, which is fitting because I feel like I’m drowning in my own sweat.
This is my life. I love this life. I also hate this life. Usually at the same time.
I give the last bolt a final quarter-turn and slide out from under the bike, blinking at the fluorescent lights. Bay 3 of Alvarez Custom—my bay, the one I’ve spent six years building into the best motorcycle restoration shop in the tri-state, or at least in this building, on this block, in this specific reality where I’m too stubborn to die.
“Frankie.”
Reese is standing in the bay door with two iced coffees and the expression she gets when she’s about to ruin my afternoon. I’ve known her since trade school. I know all her expressions. This one is her bad news, but I brought a bribe face.
“Whatever it is, no.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know that face.” I grab the shop rag off the workbench and wipe my hands, which accomplishes nothing except redistributing the grease. “That’s your the landlord did something stupid face.”
Reese hands me the iced coffee. She’s wearing a sundress and lipstick and her nails are done, because she’s the half of this business that clients actually want to talk to. I’m the half that makes their bikes run. The system works.
“The building owner is bringing in a security company,” she says.
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
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Moving Day — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon
Dani officially moves into Frankie’s apartment. Shaw helps carry boxes. Reese brings champagne. And the second everyone leaves… the christening begins. Every room. Every surface. The filthiest, most joyful night of their lives.
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