Two Divorces and a Dare

A Double Bi-Awakening MM Romance
by Jace Wilder

Available at all major retailers

Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Double Bi Awakening, Friends to Lovers, Divorced Dads, Dare / Bet Romance, Praise Kink, Touch Starved, Body Worship, Secret Relationship, Found Family

Thirty days to experiment. Twenty years of wanting.

For twenty years, Dominic Mercer and Rafael Torres have been each other’s designated escape route.

They met because their wives were close friends. They raised their children together, shared vacations, repaired one another’s homes, and became the people each called when marriage, fatherhood, or life felt impossible.

Then both marriages ended within the same year.

At their joint divorce party, Dom draws a dare card: Kiss the person in this room you trust most. Everyone expects him to kiss one of his kids. Instead, he crosses the room and kisses Rafe. The room goes silent. Then Rafe kisses him back.

After the guests leave, the men agree the kiss felt too good to ignore. Rafe proposes a controlled experiment: thirty days, one new dare at a time, no shame, no assumptions, and no promise that attraction automatically means a relationship.

The rules sound sensible. The dares do not remain sensible for long.

What begins with dancing at a queer bar and admitting long-buried fantasies progresses into nights spent learning one another’s bodies, experimenting with praise and control, and discovering how much desire can grow from decades of trust.

Dom wants the freedom to explore without assigning the experience a permanent identity. Rafe wants the truth, even if it destroys the safest friendship he has ever had.

As the thirty-day deadline approaches, both men must decide whether they are recovering from divorce together — or finally becoming the partners everyone else quietly understood them to be.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Two mature heroes over 40 with gray hair and dad bodies
✅ Double bi awakening with twenty years of emotional foreplay
✅ Divorced dads, joint divorce party, dare-kiss inciting incident
✅ Thirty-day dare structure that gets progressively filthier
✅ Praise kink, switching, body worship, and touch-starved heroes
✅ Graphic, explicit, emotional heat (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️)
✅ Supportive ex-wives, adult children, found family
✅ No cheating, no “gay for you,” firm HEA

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including switching, anal sex, praise kink, possessive dynamics, and body worship), strong language, divorce themes, identity exploration, mature heroes over 40, temporary breakup, and family conflict. Intended for readers 18+.

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Chapter One: Final Decrees

His hand didn’t shake.

Dominic Mercer had expected it to. He’d expected something — a tremor, a hesitation, maybe a dramatic pause where his entire adult life flashed before his eyes like the closing credits of a film nobody stayed to watch. Twenty-two years of marriage. Two children. A house he’d rebuilt with his own hands, room by room, until even the bones of it knew his fingerprints.

All of it reduced to a signature on a line marked with a yellow tab.

He signed. The pen was a cheap ballpoint, the kind that skips if you press too hard. He pressed too hard. It skipped. He signed again, cleaner this time, and the attorney — a brisk woman in her fifties who’d handled enough divorces to stop pretending each one was tragic — flipped to the next page and pointed to another yellow tab.

“And here.”

He signed.

“And here.”

Again.

“Initial here, please.”

He initialed. DPM. Same three letters he’d carved into the corner of the workbench in his shop when he was twenty-six and drunk on cheap beer and the certainty that life was going to be exactly what he’d planned.

The attorney squared the papers, slid them into a manila envelope, and stood. “That’s everything, Mr. Mercer. The decree will be filed with the county by end of business today. You’ll receive a certified copy in the mail within ten days.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There was nothing else. That was the whole point.

He stood, shook her hand, and walked out of the office into a hallway that smelled like carpet cleaner and someone’s reheated lunch. The fluorescent lights buzzed. A water cooler gurgled. Somewhere down the hall, a phone rang three times and stopped.

The most anticlimactic moment of his life, and the building didn’t even have the decency to be quiet about it.

Anne was waiting in the parking lot.

Not waiting, exactly. She was leaning against her car with her arms crossed and her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, the way she always stood when she was trying to look casual and wasn’t.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Done?”

“Done.”

She nodded. He nodded. Two people who’d shared a bed for twenty-two years, standing eight feet apart in a parking lot, nodding at each other like acquaintances at a school function.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He put his hands in his pockets. Took them out. “You?”

“Yeah.” She smiled — small, real, tired. “I thought I’d cry. I had tissues in my purse and everything.”

“Are you going tonight?” Anne asked.

“I’d rather rebuild a collapsed porch.”

“Dominic.”

“Go to the party, Dom. You survived the marriage. You can survive the celebration.”

She got in her car. He watched her drive away.

The house was too quiet.

Caleb appeared in the kitchen doorway — seventeen, lanky, dark-haired, wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt from a band Dom had never heard of.

“Rafe called,” he said. “Twice. Said if you don’t show up tonight, he’s sending Isabel with a dolly to wheel you there.”

Then he pulled out his phone and called Rafe.

“Tell me you’re coming,” Rafe said, instead of hello.

“Come tonight,” Rafe said. Quieter now. “I’m not asking you to celebrate. I’m asking you to not be alone.”

“Fine,” Dom said.

“Wear the suit.”

“Which suit?”

“The suit, Dominic.”

“Tonight we celebrate surviving, Dom. That’s all. Just surviving.”

Rafe was standing outside Foundry House.

Silver at his temples catching the light from the strings above. The scar through his left eyebrow, pale against his skin. His jaw. His hands. The rings he wore on his right hand.

He looked up when Dom approached. His eyes moved from Dom’s face to the suit and back again, and his expression did something that Dom didn’t have a word for.

“You wore the suit,” Rafe said.

“You told me to.”

“You look good, Dom.”

“I look old.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Dom followed him inside. The music got louder. The lights got warmer. And somewhere in the back of his mind — quiet, formless, easy to ignore — a thought surfaced that he’d been pushing down for longer than he wanted to admit.

He said I look good.

Why does that matter?

He didn’t answer himself. He walked into the party instead.

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Day Twelve — A scene TOO HOT for retailers

The lake cabin dock. The moonlight. The moment Dom stopped thinking and started taking. What happened between the midnight swim and the morning — the scene that didn’t make it into the book because even retailers have limits.

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