Grayson Hart isn’t meant to be at the elite masquerade hosted at the Westwood Estate. Crashing the event is a calculated risk—but one unforgettable dance with the host himself, billionaire Logan Westwood, changes everything.
Behind masks and under candlelight, their connection is instant—electric, unexpected, and undeniably real. But Grayson vanishes by morning, leaving Logan with only a memory… and the determination to find him again.
When fate brings them back together, sparks fly once more—but so do secrets. Grayson has a past he’s not ready to share, and Logan isn’t used to anyone saying no. As desire deepens into something more, both men must confront what they truly want—and what they’re willing to risk for it.
Set in the world of Private Encounters, Unforgettable Encounter is a seductive MM romance novella filled with longing, slow-burn heat, and emotionally complex characters. Perfect for readers who love billionaire romance, opposites attract, secret identities, and heartfelt, character-driven love stories—with just enough steam to keep the pages turning.
Grayson Hart isn’t meant to be at the elite masquerade hosted at the Westwood Estate. Crashing the event is a calculated risk—but one unforgettable dance with the host himself, billionaire Logan Westwood, changes everything.
Behind masks and under candlelight, their connection is instant—electric, unexpected, and undeniably real. But Grayson vanishes by morning, leaving Logan with only a memory… and the determination to find him again.
When fate brings them back together, sparks fly once more—but so do secrets. Grayson has a past he’s not ready to share, and Logan isn’t used to anyone saying no. As desire deepens into something more, both men must confront what they truly want—and what they’re willing to risk for it.
Set in the world of Private Encounters, Unforgettable Encounter is a seductive MM romance novella filled with longing, slow-burn heat, and emotionally complex characters. Perfect for readers who love billionaire romance, opposites attract, secret identities, and heartfelt, character-driven love stories—with just enough steam to keep the pages turning.
Well, here goes nothing. Grayson thought. How hard could it be to play James Bond for one night?
He had spent weeks preparing for this moment, ensuring every detail of his costume and persona was perfect. The grand masquerade ball at Westwood Estate was the pinnacle of exclusivity, spoken of in hushed tones among the elite. Invitations were scarce, granted only to those deemed worthy.
But tonight, Grayson Hart was not one of the chosen few.
His invitation was forged, the delicate strokes of ink on parchment a masterful imitation. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take.
The estate loomed before him as he stepped onto the gravel driveway. Lanterns cast a golden glow, their flickering light softening the imposing stone walls. The vast mansion, bathed in the full moon's silvery sheen, held an air of reverence, as if the very land remembered its legacy. And perhaps it did—the estate was more than a hundred years old, one of the few whose character had survived countless renovations untouched.
A crisp autumn breeze sent leaves skittering along the path as he approached the open iron gates. Around him, guests draped in opulence glided past, their identities concealed behind elaborate masks. The masquerade was more than an extravagant event; it was a stage where alliances were formed, secrets whispered, and opportunities seized.
Grayson slipped into the grand foyer, alert yet practiced in invisibility. He had long mastered the art of moving through places where he didn’t belong. The weight of unfamiliarity settled on him, but he carried it with purpose.
This wasn’t his world, but for tonight, he would pretend it was.
He surveyed the room, taking in the layers of wealth draped over every figure: silk gowns, tailored suits, and the unmistakable glint of real diamonds under chandelier light. The murmur of conversations, the clinking of champagne flutes, and occasional laughter drifted through the open doors, mingling with the music that swirled on the very air.
Grayson paused at the edge of the crowd, scanning the opulent ballroom. The throwback to bygone eras made the masks and costumes so elaborate it was almost impossible to tell where one person ended and another began. A man in a crimson jacket with black lace at the cuffs
wove through the guests, his mask an exaggerated lion’s face. A woman in a pale blue gown wore a delicate mask shaped like a bird’s beak, gliding across the floor with effortless grace.
He adjusted his own mask—a sleek, angular black design. It had cost more than he should have spent, but it was necessary. If he wanted to blend in, he had to look the part.
Then, he saw him.
Even masked, Logan Westwood was unmistakable. The master of Westwood Manor stood with effortless command, his posture unyielding, as though sculpted from the very marble of which the mansion was built. Behind him, grand portraits of the Westwood lineage looked down on their heir with silent approval. His mask, an intricate silver filigree, concealed most of his features but did nothing to hide the intensity of his gaze.
Grayson’s breath caught—not from surprise, but from the sheer force of memory.
He had glimpsed Logan often enough during their years at Penn, though they had never run in the same circles. Logan had been the golden son of Wharton, born into a legacy of power and prestige. Grayson had been the business major working part-time at campus events, keeping his head down while juggling coursework with whatever jobs paid that semester’s bills.
He remembered the quiet exhaustion of late-night shifts at black-tie galas, the ache in his fingers from polishing crystal and folding pristine linen. He remembered watching Logan from the periphery—the way he had carried himself, so at ease, so untouched by the strain that had defined Grayson’s own years.
Four years on the same campus, breathing the same air, and yet they might as well have been on different planets.
Grayson’s stomach tightened. He had built something for himself since then. His path after graduation had been anything but simple—consulting gigs, favors called in, long nights perfecting his craft. Now he was here, not as an outsider looking in but as someone who deserved a place in rooms like this. Or so he told himself.
And then, the crowd shifted. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met.
Something like recognition flickered in Logan’s gaze. But that was impossible.
Grayson felt his breath hitch, though he forced himself to remain still. Logan couldn’t possibly know who he was—not under the mask, not after years apart.
And yet, there was a sharpness in Logan’s stare, an assessment, as if he had already picked out the one person in the room who didn’t quite belong.
Grayson exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as the moment passed. Logan turned away, his attention already swallowed by the glittering sea of guests.
Still, something in Grayson’s chest tightened.
What was he even doing here? He’d told himself this was about networking, about finding opportunities, about stepping into a world that had always felt just beyond his reach. He had built something for himself—his boutique event planning business was growing, his instincts for crafting experiences were sharp, and he knew how to move through high society well enough to leave an impression.
But as he stood among the gilded elite, he felt, just for a second, like an imposter.
His tux, though it fit him well enough, was rented. His mask was elegant, yes, but simple, unembellished—lacking the heirloom quality of those around him. The people here didn’t just wear their wealth; they carried it in their posture, in the casual ease of their laughter, in the way they never once glanced around to see if they truly belonged.
And then there was Logan Westwood. Unshakable. Commanding. Moving through the space as if he had never once questioned his right to be here.
Suddenly, Grayson’s pulse steadied.
No—this wasn’t about feeling small.
This was about proving, to himself more than anyone, that he belonged.
He let himself drift through the crowd, listening, observing, picking out the subtle power plays woven into the conversations around him. Deals were being struck in hushed tones. Partnerships were being formed over idle laughter. Every glance, every handshake, every carefully chosen word was another piece in a game where only a few understood the rules.
Grayson had spent years watching from the sidelines. Now, he was here to play.
He had the freedom to be anyone.
A slow smile tugged at Grayson’s lips. For the first time in a long while, he felt free—untethered from the weight of the past, unburdened by the expectations that had once boxed him in. Tonight, he wasn’t just Grayson Hart, the boy who had worked campus events while men like Logan Westwood waltzed through life untouched. He was whoever he chose to be.
The ball was just beginning. And he was ready.
“You don’t belong here.”
The words sliced through the air, stopping him in his tracks.
Grayson turned, his pulse quickening as he found himself face to face with Logan Westwood.
Up close, Logan was even more striking—tall, broad-shouldered, his silver mask accentuating the sharp lines of his face. His expression wasn’t cruel, but it was assessing, as though trying to place a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.
Grayson’s spine straightened. “Neither does half the room,” he replied smoothly, keeping his voice light. “They just hide it better.”
Logan’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “A cynic. How refreshing.”
Grayson tilted his head. “And what does that make you?”
Logan studied him for a beat, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Amused.”
The way he said it sent a ripple of something unfamiliar through Grayson. It wasn’t mockery, nor dismissal—it was interest. An invitation to keep playing.
The waltz shifted tempo, the music deepening into something rich and consuming. Logan extended a hand, his gaze steady.
Grayson hesitated. He had expected arrogance. He had expected a brush-off. Not this. Not Logan stepping forward, drawing him in, offering something neither of them had defined yet.
“Do you make a habit of dancing with strangers?” Grayson murmured.
“Only the ones worth my time.”
Grayson took a breath, then placed his hand in Logan’s.
The touch was brief but deliberate. Logan’s grip was firm, his fingers warm against the cool night air. As they stepped onto the dance floor, the world around them blurred.
Logan led, but Grayson wasn’t content to simply follow. Their movements wove through the polished marble expanse, a silent negotiation with every step. Logan tested, guiding him into turns that required trust, but Grayson met each one with fluid precision, refusing to be easily outmaneuvered.
"This isn’t what I expected," Logan murmured, his voice barely above the music.
Grayson arched a brow. “What did you expect?”
Logan’s fingers flexed against his waist. "Someone easier to read."
Grayson huffed a soft laugh. “You’re not an open book, either.”
Logan’s gaze darkened—not with offense, but something sharper, more intent. The subtle shift in his grip told Grayson he’d surprised him.
Good.
The orchestra swelled, the music curling around them like a spell. Other dancers faded into insignificance. Whatever game had begun between them had moved beyond mere posturing.
The longer they danced, the more the world seemed to narrow to just this—just them.
As the final notes rang out, Grayson became aware of the hush that had settled over the crowd. The other dancers had paused, their attention drawn toward them. His pulse was unsteady. That had been… intense.
Logan, however, barely looked winded.
“Got you,” Logan murmured, his voice just for Grayson’s ears.
A thrill shot through Grayson, though he refused to show it.
Because in that moment, he wasn’t sure whether Logan meant the dance—or something far more dangerous.
Ryan Moore's specialty is quick, short, steamy M/M romances, and this book has got it going on! Just an hour of my time and I was captivated in the tension that is Grayson and Logan.
It starts with Grayson sneaking into a masquerade that billionaire Logan is hosting. The two find themselves sharing a dance.. and a kiss! Before Logan can figure out who Grayson really is, Grayson runs away. Much like Cinderella, Grayson leaves a little something behind which helps Logan on his search to find him again.
While the story was relatively short - about 60 pages, my attention was there the whole time. We didn't get much, if any, character development in this story. Since the plot line moved so fast, you didn't even realize that you didn't know anything about the characters. The only backstory that was given to us in this short story was that the two MC's went to college together and Grayson was a server at previous parties held by Logan.
While reading Unforgettable Encounter, it did feel like this is the middle of a series, and not the beginning. After some research, I did find there are two bonus stories - Unmasked (Grayson's POV) and Golden Chain ( Logan's POV) to help with the backstory. Although neither of these were mentioned prior to me reading this book.
I did like the Cinderella vibe, but with gay boys. I thought the writing was classy with their romance. The tension was hot, and the anticipation was even hotter.
I would recommend this book to others, as long as they are okay with reading a series. This book does not leave you with a final ending. You will want more of this story.
I hope to see more full length novels from this author in the future.