by TA Moore
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He nudged Tommy back into the bathroom—one hand pressed flat against his hard, wet chest—and let the door close behind them. Mallory was fine. She was sad, but that was natural, and Jason had to properly thank Tommy for his present. “And that you’re going to scrub my back.”
THE BEST present ever snored in Mallory’s lap. It was past noon, but she was still in her pajamas, too enchanted with the dog to even make it upstairs. She wasn’t happy, exactly—there’d been tears she wouldn’t admit to in the bathroom—but she loved the dog.
It was called Ben, after her dad. So there’d be no leaving it behind in the country, he supposed.
Jason glanced down at Tommy, who was sprawled half on him and half-off. He’d made it back half an hour before, all yawns from the night shift and with a pizza he brought home from the station.
Not the most traditional Christmas dinner, but it would do.
“It’s not even a cute dog,” Jason muttered. He gave Tommy a nudge with his knee to make sure he was listening. “What is it, anyhow?”
“A beagle-corgi cross.”
“Dear God.”
Tommy snorted.
“He’s the best dog in the world,” Mallory interrupted. She scrambled to her feet, fat puppy overflowing her arms, and sniffed loftily. “You’re just being horrible because he doesn’t like you. I’m going to get dressed. Merry Christmas, Tommy.”
He waited until she left and then sighed a correction. “Tom.”
“Give it up. Everyone can tell you’re a Tommy,” Jason said. He thought of the bold scrawl of letters in his book. “So when do you want to do it?”
Tommy twisted around to look up at him. “I don’t think Mallory’s going to take that long to get changed.”
“No.” Jason took a deep breath. “Moving in with me.”
“What?” Tommy spluttered. He pushed himself up off Jason and frowned. “Very funny.”
It was an easy out, but for once, Jason didn’t want to take it.
“You’re the love of my fucking life, Tommy,” he said. The air felt dry in his throat as he took a breath. “I’m not going to let you go again. So one of us is going to have to move, and since I live in San Diego, otherwise known as paradise, and you live here? I think the choice is obvious.”
“It’s been one night. I can’t move in with you after one night.”
Jason laughed and pushed Tommy back down onto the sofa, their positions swapped as Jason sprawled on top of him. “You know that’s not true.” He kissed Tommy for a long, sweet moment. “It’s not just one night. It’s too many years apart.”
He got distracted by Tommy’s hands as he skimmed them up his thighs and cupped his ass. It didn’t matter. There was no asshole dad, no dying dad this time. If Tommy really didn’t want to move to San Diego, although that made no sense, Jason supposed he could come back here. Now that was something he never imagined he’d hear in his own head.
“I’ve had offers to put my own name on stuff. I’ve always said no. I didn’t want the commitment, and it was safer not to try, not to want something and have it taken away.” He kissed him slowly and sweetly. “It’s time I write my own love story, Tommy. Our love story.”
In the background he could hear Mallory giggling.
TA MOORE genuinely believed that she was a Cabbage Patch Kid when she was a small child. This was the start of a lifelong attachment to the weird and fantastic. These days she lives in a market town on the Northern Irish coast and her friends have a rule that she can only send them three weird and disturbing links a month (although she still holds that a DIY penis bifurcation guide is interesting, not disturbing). She believes that adding ‘in space!’ to anything makes it at least 40% cooler, will try to pet pretty much any animal she meets (this includes snakes, excludes bugs), and once lied to her friend that she had climbed all the way up to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, when actually she’d only gotten to the beach, realized it was really high, and chickened out.
She aspires to being a cynical misanthrope, but is unfortunately held back by a sunny disposition and an inability to be mean to strangers. If TA Moore is mean to you, that means you’re friends now.
Website: www.nevertobetold.co.uk
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TA.Moores
Twitter: @tammy_moore
By TA Moore
Bone to Pick
Dog Days
Ghostwriter of Christmas Past
Liar, Liar
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ghostwriter of Christmas Past
© 2017 TA Moore.
Cover Art
© 2017 Alexandria Corza.
http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-313-8
Published December 2017
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
