Puss ‘N Boots (50 Shades of Fairy Tales) by Madeline Apple

Meow! Madeline Apple is back with some sizzling man-love!


Author: Madeline Apple

When Henry Miller returns to his hometown of Westford, Connecticut, for the reading of his favorite aunt’s will, he’s surprised to find himself half owner of his aunt’s shoe boutique, Puss ‘N Boots. Unfortunately, his crafty aunt has clauses in her will that force him to work at the boutique for a minimum of six months if he wants to collect his inheritance–which means sharing space with his adopted cousin Kit, a gorgeous ex-model who seduced Henry as a young man. Before long, the fur flies…and the sparks!

Contains explicit and consensual m/m sex and pseudo-incest. Intended for an adult audience only.


“Hey, what’s new, pussycat?” I called as I came in the door of the penthouse apartment I shared with Leo. I tossed my keys down on the Queen Anne desk by the door and immediately went to the kitchen to get a drink of juice out of the fridge.

Most men my age would have gone to the wet bar that Leo and I kept for guests, but I made a point of not drinking alcohol or having it on my breath. Leo’s parents had been alcoholics, and I figured it was the least I could do.
I slid my briefcase along the kitchen counter, went to the Sub Zero, and got out some V8 juice. I checked my phone for messages. My secretary at the literary agency was always sending me “quick texts” about this client or that—which, essentially, meant I had to return to the office posthaste. Thankfully, I was text-free tonight, which was nice for a change. The week had been exhausting and I just wanted dinner and a movie, and to cuddle with Leo on the couch tonight. I drank down half a glass before calling out, “Leo, I’m home. What’s for dinner, hon?”

The stove was cold and none of the pots had been used. Leo was a part time chef down at Le Bistro Moderne on Second Avenue and I always let him cook dinner for us out of the fear that if I did anything more complex than open a can of soup, I’d likely kill us both.


I went into the living room. Empty. Then, my pulse flitting a little faster, the bedroom.

He’d left the envelope on my bureau. He knew the first thing I did when I came home was change and put my clothes away in the closet and my watch away in the jewelry chest he had bought me. He knew I liked things orderly and in their place. He’d made enough Felix Unger jokes to last a lifetime.

I slipped my reading glasses on and opened the envelope with shaking fingers. I slid the folded sheet of crème stationary out. The first words that popped out were “It isn’t you, Henry, it’s me…”

I read the letter through three times. Then I put the stationary back in the color-coordinated envelope. I put my watch away in the jewelry case, my glasses away in my breast pocket, and hung my coat up properly in the closet I had been sharing with Leo McFarley for eight years.

I caught a glance of myself in the bureau mirror, middle-aged, dark-haired, features pleasant if not remarkable. I thought of the eight years I had spent with Leo, the best years of my life. There were rings under my eyes from work, and now a permanent look of rage in my eyes.

I went over to the shelves of glass and porcelain lions I had been buying Leo ever since we met. He always said they were cute and clever and that was very much like me. I picked up the first one I had ever bought him, a finely painted porcelain import from India, white with orange flowers, and smashed it against the bedroom wall above our bed.

Then I smashed all the rest, stomped the glass and porcelain into the carpet, and went out into the living room to the wet bar to get very, very drunk.

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And don’t forget to pick up the first two books in the series:


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