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After 30+ years as my mother's 24/7 caregiver she passed away this past January and since then I have become my dad's primary caregiver so November being National Family Caregivers Month has always been important to me. Not because I want personal recognition for what I do but to help show people that caregiving is more than just medical assistance, it can also be emotional, physical, psychological, that it effects every aspects of a person's life, it can be temporary, short term, long term, chronic,. I would have given anything to make it so my mother had not needed the assistance and now my dad but that isn't possible so I do this so he can have the best quality of life and still live in his own home. So I realized that there are stories out there that have caregivers and whether it's a big or small part of the plot doesn't matter, they help show people what caregivers provide all within very entertaining romances and reading experiences.
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Saint Brothers #3
Matt lives a pretty simple life. A physical therapist, he helps people to heal and become their best selves once again. When he’s offered a live-in position at the Saint residence, he accepts easily and for a while, things go smoothly. But then there’s a drunken night…and a possible stalker. Matt is really starting to miss that simple life.
Nick likes computers more than people…except maybe his twin brother. Matt living with them for months on end doesn’t affect him much…until one weird night. Now Nick sees Matt in a different light, and when someone else starts looking at Matt in a very dangerous way, he is filled with a need to help. But will Matt let him? And who is stalking Matt?
When the situation begins to escalate and it appears that Matt’s life may be on the line, Nick refuses to stand on the sidelines—he calls for his family to step in and help. As Nick and Matt get closer in every way, so does the threat. Can Nick and Matt keep one step ahead of danger, or is luck not on their side?
Mine to Keep is book three in the Saint Brothers Series. While the story is a standalone, characters from past books appear in this story so for the full experience I suggest reading in order Book one: Slay Ride. Book two: Kill Me Sweetly.
Original Audiobook Review October 2025:
Once again I listened to an audiobook the same year I first read the ebook, definitely a rarity for me. That alone speaks volumes as to how much I love this series. I'm all for unicorn and roses when it comes to romance but if I'm completely honest with myself, dark elements make the romances even better. Well, Davidson King has a knack for just that style of storytelling.
As it's been with the other entries, Darcy Stark and Alexander Cendese bring not only the characters to life but they make the whole Saint Brothers universe realistic, so much so that I feel I'm not just a fly on the wall hearing Nick and Matt's journey but part of it. And as it always is with dual narration, I don't know which reads which part but it doesn't matter because they are all so authentically done it makes a great story a very pleasant listen. That statement sounds odd, saying "pleasant" in regards to the dark setting but it's true, it is so easy to listen to that it truly is the whole package.
Original Book of the Month Review April 2025:
Davidson King brings everything to the kitchen and delivers a 5-star meal once again with Mine to Keep. The title gives you an idea the featured subject: stalking and she shines a spotlight on so many disturbing emotions felt when one is stalked. I don't speak from personal experience but from everything I've watched and read on the subject over the years, is within the pages of Mine. I certainly hope the author speaks from research and not experience but either way the respect for the topic is shown on every page. Don't get me wrong, there are many scenes of humor, generally between the Saint brothers and their loving banter we've come to know them for, to help balance the overall story.
I gotta say it. Mine to Keep freaked me out more than the first two entries in the author's Saint Brothers series. The first two were definitely more violent, more action-packed, frankly they bordered on horror as much as you can without a paranormal or slasher element in my book. To be honest, Mine was less bloody, less gory, less in your face violent mayhem and yet it terrified me more, or at least more deeply, it spoke to the fear inside me more. Stalking is scary and creepy on multiple levels but it is also something that happens every day, can happen to anyone at anytime. Does it happen that often? More than you probably realize but no, not often. But it can. Stalking speaks to the inner demon that we all have, of course only a select few actually act on it but the idea it can happen on any given day to any and every one you know, that is what makes it such a horrifying event. This is why Mine to Keep scared me more than the first two.
Really the above statement is surprising because just as you think Davidson King might have went a little soft with this entry, she kicks back, kicks butt, and terrified me to the very core. The author's last release in February did something that I wasn't expecting, it gave me moments of respite from the grief of losing my mother. I mention this not because the books are related as that was a standalone nor am I making any kind of content comparisons but because today I'm still grieving but also preparing to find a job and dealing with health issue with my dad so I'm crippled in fear most days. Davidson King has once again given me moments of respite so that I can step outside my inner fear and yes, she has catapulted me into a fear-filled realistic fictional world but it is so entertaining and so heart-grabbing that it was a distraction from my reality fear. For all the fear Matt and Nick face you allowed me to recharge here and there and I can't thank you enough, Davidson King for those moments that allowed me to breathe.
I want to mention Matt and Nick but I don't want to spoil anything so all I'll say is I wanted to wrap Matt in a giant Mama Bear hug to protect him just as Nick does but I also wanted to shake him to make him listen to Nick and his family before things escalated too far. As for Nick, well how can you not love him? He has super mad computer skills, which come in handy in this case, and he just wants to protect Matt even before they connect. The Saint brothers may not see him as family at first, but as JJ's physical therapist helping him heal after what occurred in Kill Me Sweetly(book 2) Matt is as close as one can get without a romantic connection but not so much as they want to break the family rules of voting on interfering. Even vigilantes have a playbook😉.
I feel like I've descended into rambling here so I'll finish with this: Mine to Keep will hit you in all the feels that will keep you hooked till the end and guessing right to the reveal, I know I was wrong. A winner on all fronts.
Summary:
Belonging #1
Twenty-two-year-old Alessandro Silva knows that returning to tiny Perch Creek to help his foster mother was the right thing to do. With no degree and a delinquent's reputation, he's lucky to have landed a job waiting tables. But not everyone is happy he's back, and the only thing keeping his move home from being a total bust is his boss's hot brother.
Jaime Winters spent most of his life watching the world go by, first from a series of hospitals and then from behind big stacks of textbooks. Studying is easier than facing the fact that years of heart failure means he's still a virgin at twenty-three. Until the new waiter in his sister's diner awakens desires he'd long ago given up on.
The last thing Alessandro wants is to fall for someone as fragile as Jaime. And Jaime may have a new heart, but he's scared of what giving it to another person would mean. Their no-strings-attached, instructional approach to sex keeps emotion safely at bay, until a secret from Alessandro's past forces them to confront their feelings in the present.
Mine to Keep by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
One Month Ago
Matt
“I’m so happy you finally agreed to come out with us.” Joan’s violet-painted lips were wide, her eyes glassy. She’d been drinking a lot since we arrived…which had been only an hour ago.
“Sorry. I wanted to hang sooner, but this new client, he was in bad shape. I had to be more hands-on than normal. The first month was a lot of recovery, but they still needed me there. By the end of every day, I was beat.”
She nodded. “Camie gave you that assault victim.” She snapped her fingers. “J something.”
“He’s a great guy—he’s come a long way. I know Camie gave him to me, thinking I’d quit when I found out it was in-house physical therapy, but it’s cool. Pay is amazing, and the house is gorgeous.”
“This the house with all those guys living there…brothers, right?” Lewis, who worked with me and Joan, came to the table with a cold beer.
“Saint brothers. Yep, that’s them.” I pursed my lips as I thought about those men.
It was a huge house, and they were all foster brothers except for the twins. Those two were blood related. I hadn’t seen a lot of them—mostly just my patient, JJ, and his boyfriend, Shepard. I’d been there every day, even the weekends, until recently. JJ was doing a lot better. Another month and he’d cut down to maybe two days a week.
Joan fanned herself. “That’s some serious hotness. They run that bakery, Saintly Sweets. Delicious food—even yummier owners.”
I rolled my eyes. “Joan, go dance and work off some of that…” I made a figure eight with my hand. “Whatever that is.”
She laughed, pulled Lewis up, and dragged him to the dance floor. The Alibi was our favorite club. I loved its diversity and while loud at times, there was never any drama, fights, or major issues.
“All alone?”
I looked up to see Darnell holding two drinks. “Joan forced Lewis to dance.”
Darnell sat and pushed one of the drinks over to me, then sipped his own. “They need to just fuck and be done with it.”
I guffawed. “Lord, no. That can’t happen.”
Darnell hummed. “She’d eat him alive.”
“True facts, my friend.”
Darnell, Joan, Lewis, and I worked at Rybelt Physical Therapy and Sports Management. Once a month, we’d get together at The Alibi and decompress. This was the first time I’d been able to join them since I’d started working with JJ.
“I gotta ask.” Darnell leaned forward. “What’s it really like being in a house with all those guys?” He jerked his head toward Joan and Lewis. “I heard them talking to you about it.”
I had to be careful. While Darnell was my closest friend at work—hell, we’d dated for a few months a while back—I still had to maintain privacy.
“It’s different. I hadn’t done live-in therapy before, so if I’m being honest, it took me more time to adjust to that than to get to know any of them.”
“Well, what’s a typical day for you?”
I sipped my drink, wondering what I could say to appease him. “Get up, eat, then usually meet JJ. We do morning routines, break, and after that do afternoon ones. In the evening, it’s mostly massage and relaxation—things like that. Then I pass out.”
He nodded. “Was that why Tony and you broke up, you not being around?”
I snorted, thinking about that asshole. “No. I mean, it wasn’t the final straw for him, but Tony and I were never going to work. He was demanding, a serious control freak, and closed-minded.”
“How so?” Darnell cocked his head.
“About two weeks before I’d started working for JJ, I came out of the shower and he was looking at one of my photo albums. And not just any—the one Trinity made me.”
“You just had that laying out there?”
“Nope. It was in my closet. But that’s the least of it. He pointed to a picture of Trinity and said, what’s that?”
“That?” Darnell whistled.
“Mmmhmm. Trinity was dressed up in one of their awesome creations, and I told Tony they were my ex, Trinity. He slammed the book closed and yelled that he thought I was gay.”
Darnell held his hands up. “Whoa, he looked at Trinity and…I don’t get it.”
“You know how Trinity hates labels: pangender, nonbinary. I told him Trinity was fluid, didn’t conform to one gender, and in this picture Trin was wearing a dress and makeup.”
“And he thought they were a woman?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter; I didn’t feed into it. I just told him that I never said I was gay, and that I was, in fact, pansexual. Then I explained that Trinity was nonbinary, and did my best to educate him as well as I could. He shook his head and was all, ‘No, there’s only straight, gay, or lesbian.’ ”
“No, he did not!” Darnell pressed a palm to his chest.
“Oh, he did, and I explained that he needed to go home because if he felt that way, we weren’t a good fit.”
Darnell slapped the table. “Good on you. How’d that go?”
I chuckled. “We broke up, remember?”
“Shit…well, you dodged a bullet with him. What a dickhead.”
“For sure.” I drained my drink and stood. “I’m going to get another. I’d like to be drunk tonight.”
Darnell beamed. “Fuck, yeah. That’s why we Ubered it here. Go get all the alcohol.”
I headed to the bar to order myself and Darnell the next round of drinks since he’d gotten the last. While I waited, I scanned the club. Lewis and Joan were really going at it…Hmm, maybe they should fuck and get it over with.
“Here you go.” The bartender slid the drinks to me, and I tossed him a twenty.
For the next hour or so, I drank, danced, and drank some more. I had nowhere to be tomorrow, and I was going to stay in bed in my apartment. It was nice to have weekends back.
“Shots!” Lewis shouted.
“I’ll go up with you.” I followed Lewis cautiously. Seriously, the floor moved when my feet touched it.
“Four Nasty Nipples,” he ordered, and I glared at him.
“What the fuck is that?” I thought that was what came out of my mouth, but judging by the look on Lewis’s face, maybe not.
“Hey.”
I spun around…too fast actually, and stumbled. Steady hands gripped my arms. “Careful there.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly.
“Sorry.”
“I got him,” Lewis said as he tried to pull me away.
“I don’t need to be gotten.”
The stranger smiled with perfectly straight white teeth. Oh, he was lovely. “You carry the drinks; I can walk…what’s your name?”
“Matt.”
“I can walk Matt back.”
“Fine.”
We followed behind Lewis. No one else was at the table; I could see them on the dance floor.
Lewis took his shot and faced me. “I’m gonna let them know their shots are here.” He pointed at the stranger. “I’ll just be a minute.”
The guy chuckled. “He’s protective.”
I looked at the man. He was tall, built, and I tried to focus on his face but couldn’t really. “Wanna make out?”
The man grinned even wider. “Very much.”
I couldn’t believe that had worked. “Come on, fast, before Lewis returns.”
I dragged Hottie Stranger with me toward the bathroom. There wasn’t a great place for any quickies at The Alibi, so a stall would have to do. We were halfway down the hallway when I heard someone call my name.
We stopped and I turned to see a figure walking our way. There was something familiar about him.
“Matt, hey.”
“Hi?”
“You know this guy?” Hottie Stranger asked…and that was annoying.
“What’s your name?” I squinted so I could focus on his pretty face.
He smirked. “Steve.”
I was staring at him, feeling all warm and gooey inside, and then my bubble burst.
“Mattie, what’s up?”
Mattie, literally nobody called me that.
“Who are you calling Mattie?” I squinted at the man…Oh, he was pretty too. So many gorgeous specimens. He truly was familiar. I knew him from somewhere.
“Sorry, dude, I’m not letting you take him to the bathroom to do whatever it is you think you’re about to do.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Steve beat me to it. “I’d never do anything without consent, Matt invited me.”
Hottie-familiar-man quirked a brow…I think. “An inebriated person.” He eyed me from head to toe. “A very inebriated person invited you? Anytime someone is this drunk, there’s no consent.”
“Who are you to police his choices?”
This was right out of a fantasy. Two delicious guys fighting over little old me. I leaned against the wall…Oh, it was nice and cool.
“He can barely stand, shitdick, so if you want to keep your legs, face, and arms intact, I suggest you piss right the fuck off!” Familiar man was winning.
“Fuck this. No one is worth this drama.” Steve glared at me and stormed off.
“Bye, Steve,” I yelled, then ogled the hottie blond. “So, you win…Do I get my surprise?” I reached for his belt, but he backed away.
“I’m taking you home.”
“Pardon me? I mean…did I say pardon? Did that come out right?”
“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Come on, Matt, I already told your friends I’d take you home.”
“Who are you? They’d never let a stranger whisk me away to the whatevers.”
“It’s Nick, Matt. Nick Saint. You’ve been staying at our house for five months, and you can’t recognize me? You’re trashed. Let’s go.” He went to grab me, but I pulled away.
This of course made me spin, the room spin…my stomach spin, and that was when I threw up all over Nick.
No Such Thing by AM Arthur
Chapter One
Most days, Alessandro Silva would have walked right past a place like Baker’s Dozen. He’d seen and worked in too many like it since he was fifteen—a small, local hangout that catered to the same hardworking blue collars day after day, for lousy tips and long hours. The hand-painted sign outside Baker’s Dozen advertised, Breakfast Only! Open 5 am until 12pm, Closed on Sunday.
The little coffee shop hadn’t been there three years ago, the last time he’d been in Perch Creek, but that meant very little. A lot could, and did, change in a small town in such a brief amount of time, including businesses and who owned them. Nothing about Baker’s Dozen seemed special at first glance—not until Alessandro spotted the other sign in the window, scribbled out on a sheet of parchment paper.
He’d seen a lot of help-wanted signs in his day, but this was his very first Help Needed!!! sign. All three exclamation points included.
The sign stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk. He was on his way to the larger chain steakhouse down the block to see if they needed any help in the kitchen. Bussing tables wasn’t exactly a noteworthy profession, but jobs weren’t easy to come by for a twenty-two-year-old Brazilian-American with no college education. And he needed a job if he was going to stay in Perch Creek to help Eunice with her bills and the other kids.
Help Needed!!!
The bank of windows at the front of Baker’s Dozen was tinted, so he’d have to cup his hands and press his face to the glass to get an idea of the interior. Instead of being so obvious about it, he went in. Sleigh bells jangled on the inside of the door, and he stepped into a warm room full of chatter, clanging and the wonderful aromas of coffee and cinnamon.
The restaurant was long and narrow, with a counter in the rear and a few booths and tables set up along both walls. A freestanding sign said Seat Yourself. Most of the seats were full, and a white-haired woman was bustling around behind the rear counter, lording over what looked like a giant display case of baked goods, with a line of four people waiting to be served. It reminded him more of a bakery than a breakfast place until he saw the handwritten menu board over the counter advertising daily breakfast specials and flavored coffee.
He moved a few steps closer in order to observe. The white-haired woman was actually white-blonde and younger than he’d first guessed—probably in her early thirties, with a silver hoop in her nose and several piercings in each ear. She was stout, as well. Not overweight, but not exactly slim, either. She laughed and joked with the people in line as she bagged up items from one of the trays beneath the counter, then took the bag to a cash register.
Just as she handed both the bag and change to the woman in line, a bell dinged somewhere behind her and a distant voice said, “Six up!” The woman excused herself from the next person in line, dashed to the left and reached over what must have been a hidden counter. She came back with two plates of food that she sprinted to a booth near Alessandro. As she passed, she tossed him a sunny grin and a brief, “Hey, sugar.” She sailed right back to the register and helped the next person with their order. So far, he hadn’t seen a single other person working there—the disembodied voice of the cook didn’t count.
He got in line.
Two more plates of food came out before Alessandro made it to the front of the line, and three people were waiting behind him. The scents of apples, cinnamon, sugar, and various other things made his stomach growl and mouth water, but he wasn’t here for a muffin.
“What can I get you, sugar?” the pale-haired woman asked when it was his turn.
He gave her his very best smile, slightly startled to see how blue her eyes were. “I’m actually here about the sign in the window. Help needed?”
“Yeah? You got experience waiting tables?”
“Not waiting, no, but I’ve bussed in a lot of places and done some dishwashing. I’m a quick study, though.”
“What’s your name?”
“Alessandro Silva.”
Those startling blue eyes swept him up and down, and then she leaned closer. In a low voice, she asked, “You legal?”
Alessandro had long ago given up on being insulted when people saw his caramel skin and black hair and assumed he wasn’t born here in America—which he was, even if his parents had been illegal. “Perfectly legal in every way,” he replied with just a touch of sass.
“Good. Consider this your job interview.” She reached behind her, grabbed a green apron and notepad, then handed the bundle to him. “Tables are in numerical order, one there and count in a U-shape from the front. When Rusty shouts a number, it’s the table. Get the plates and deliver. Someone sits down, take their order. Menu is on the board, and the coffee is endless as long as it’s eat-in. Got it?”
Even though his head was spinning a bit, Alessandro nodded. He stepped out of line so he could tie on his apron while she served the next customer.
“Nine up!”
That was his first cue. He stepped behind the counter and down the short hall. A chest-high counter stood between him and the rest of the kitchen, which was commanded by a single, slightly grizzled man who looked as old as dirt and glared at him with suspicion. “Rusty?” Alessandro asked.
The old cook grunted. “You new?”
“Extremely.”
“Good luck, Paco.”
“Alessandro.”
“What kind of name is that?”
“My parents were from Brazil.”
“Mine were from Poland.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Alessandro blinked first. He picked up the white porcelain plates, both heaped with some kind of pancakes and bacon, then carried them back to the dining room. He started with the first table on the left, then counted to nine. He ended at a booth on the right side of the room, where two teenage girls were sitting, playing with their phones.
“Your food, ladies,” he said. He flashed them his most charming smile as he deposited their plates, which made them both blush and giggle. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Can I order your phone number?” one girl asked with a too-confident grin.
Alessandro placed a hand over his heart, faking sadness. “Alas, my dear, my heart belongs to someone else.” To another sex entirely, as a matter of fact, but he wasn’t going to advertise that when he hadn’t been officially hired. Being nonwhite brought its own unique set of problems, as did being a foster kid; being gay, too, was just an additional layer of complications in his already complicated life.
“Too bad,” his flirtatious teenage customer said.
“Enjoy the food.” He took a moment to survey the tables and take in the details. He spotted at least half-a-dozen ceramic mugs that screamed “in-house coffee” that needed refilling. Two other tables had no food at all, so he remained alert to Rusty’s shouts. Some patrons were eating muffins or baked goods out of brown paper bags with takeout cups of coffee, so he made a note to leave them alone unless summoned.
He could do this. No sweat.
The coffeepot was set up behind the counter, with two steaming carafes ready and a third brewing. One brown handle and one orange—regular and decaf, he’d bet. He took both, then did a quick circuit of the dining room, topping off mugs and chatting idly with folks he’d never met a day in his life. While he was pouring, an older gentleman came in and settled in the place’s only empty booth.
Alessandro gave him a moment to settle himself, then came over. “Coffee to start you off?” he asked.
“Sure, regular’s good.” The man turned over his mug and Alessandro poured. “Shannon got flapjacks on today?”
He glanced up at the board just to double-check himself before answering. “Stack of cakes with bacon, yep.”
“Sounds good, with one of her corn muffins on the side.”
“Got it.”
Once Alessandro had redeposited the coffee carafes, he wrote the order down on the pad, then took it to the rear counter. “New order?” he asked Rusty.
“There.” Rusty pointed his greasy spatula at a silver wheel with little clips on it.
Alessandro attached the order, then went up to his maybe-boss. “I need a corn muffin set aside for table ten.”
“Got it,” she said as she slid what looked like an apple fritter into a bag.
Two full hours passed like that and Alessandro never stopped moving. For such a small place, it did incredibly brisk business, and as the hands on his watch crept closer to noon, the baked-goods counter emptied out and so did the tables and booths. He was able to slow down and catch his breath. His apron pocket rattled with loose change and dollar bills—tip money he’d collected from the tables he’d also bussed. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Only two booths were still occupied, so he grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping down the tables. By the time he’d gone around, only one booth held customers. He collected two plates and mugs from the empty table, as well as a five-dollar tip. A hastily scribbled phone number went into the pool of syrup left on one of the plates. He added the plates to the bus bin on the back counter.
“You really are a fast learner,” the boss—who he guessed to be Shannon, even though she hadn’t introduced herself—said.
“I believe in truth in advertising,” he replied.
“You did good today and you helped me out of a real jam. Thank you, Alessandro.”
“Alè, please.”
“Alè.” She pronounced it like all white folks did, like alley, but he didn’t mind. “My name’s Shannon Winters. I own the place.”
“I guessed as much. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “It was definitely the most hands-on interview I’ve never had.”
“If you want the job, you’re hired.”
He blinked. “For real?”
“Yes, absolutely. It’s all morning work, though. We’re open six to twelve, so you’d work five to one Monday through Friday. I have a Saturday person, and we’re closed Sundays. You’d be doing pretty much what you just did, for six hours a day, five days a week. You game for that?”
His mind calculated the benefits of such an arrangement. Having set hours meant a schedule that Eunice could more easily work around. If she could figure out mornings, he’d be there every day when the kids came home from school. He’d have to get used to such early working hours, but he’d done worse.
“I’m game,” he replied. “I accept.”
“Fabulous. Welcome to Baker’s Dozen. We’ll do your paperwork after we close, yeah?”
“Okay.”
He kept himself busy by relying on his old busboy training—collecting dishes, cleaning tables, generally tidying up the place—as the hour hand crept toward the twelve. The last lingering guests seemed to understand they were getting close to overstaying their welcome. The pair tossed some money onto the wood table, then left. Alessandro hit the table and started cleaning.
He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the shop’s clock before, but at noon it chimed, then began playing strains of “Closing Time.” He laughed his way through scrubbing down the table.
The front door bells clanged, and he glanced up, a little startled. He hadn’t asked Shannon if he should lock the front door. A man about his own age came inside, wearing the worn clothes of a poor college student, a canvas cross-body bag slung over his shoulder. He was slim with thick brown hair and wide, blue eyes that stopped Alessandro short. He also had the most kissable red lips Alessandro had ever seen on a man. Not really handsome, but leaning toward the cute side, and those lips…
Alessandro’s dick twitched.
He’d take a phone number scribbled on a receipt from this guy any day of the week. Too bad. “We’re closed.”
Vivid blue eyes latched on and drank him in, taking just a split second longer to check Alessandro out than any perfectly straight man would have. “My sister owns the place,” he said in a slightly mocking tone. “She won’t mind.” As if to prove his point, Shannon’s supposed brother reached back and turned the door’s lock. “Who are you?”
Alessandro squared his shoulders, not at all intimidated by the slightly shorter, much skinnier man in front of him. “Alessandro Silva. Shannon just hired me.”
“Damn, that was fast. We only hung the sign three hours ago.”
“Right place, right time, I guess.”
“I guess. I’m—”
“Jaime, hey,” Shannon said. She came down the center aisle, wiping her hands on a towel. “You’re cutting it close, kid. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jaime replied. “I had to get some books from the library and lost track of time. You know I never miss a chance to scrounge for leftovers and harass you while you try to close up.”
“Go harass Rusty instead. Fill the dishwasher.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jaime tossed his bag onto a chair and strolled to the back of the shop.
Alessandro caught himself watching Jaime go, so he turned his attention back to Shannon. “Your brother?”
“Half brother, yeah,” she replied. “Pain in my ass, but I can’t seem to find any traveling sideshows that will buy him off me.”
He snorted laughter. The comment was sarcastic, but he didn’t miss the underlying affection in her words. “Have you considered selling him to science?”
She grinned. “Oh, I like you, Alè. I like you.”
They spent the next hour going over how the shop ran and the kinds of food they served. They were first and foremost a bakery, specializing in thirteen varieties of muffins every day, and they changed based on the time of year. Baker’s Dozen also served a variety of other baked goods. Everything was made from scratch in the morning—Shannon came in at three—and once it sold out, it was out. She also put food specials up, five dishes that Rusty could crank out quickly, and she prided herself on serving a great cup of coffee.
They discussed pay and tips, as well as his general responsibilities, while they cleaned and set up for the next day. He got a tour of the kitchen and the small back room that doubled as a break room and office space and the closet-sized bathroom. Once they sat down and started on his official paperwork, their conversation shifted from professional to a little more personal.
“So did you just move to Perch Creek?” Shannon asked.
“I grew up here, but I moved away for a few years.” His nerves jumped a bit. “I came back to help out at home.”
“Best reason to come back to a place is family.”
“Agreed.”
As he filled in his emergency-contact information, Shannon read over his shoulder. “Eunice Deforio? Hey, are you one of her kids?”
He looked up from the form, ready to defend Eunice and himself, but Shannon didn’t have “that look” on her face. That look of disappointment and suspicion he often saw from people who immediately distrusted folks who’d grown up in the foster-care system, as though the system bred criminals. She looked curious, even a little pleased.
“Yeah, I am. Eunice has been really good to me.”
“I heard about her husband passing away. I’m real sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Sullivan Deforio had been an excellent foster father and role model, and the polite platitude was a cruel reminder of the man’s recent passing.
“Eunice must be glad to have you.”
He nodded. “She’s a mighty strong lady, but she was married to Sully for forty years. It’s like losing a leg, you know? I’m doing what I can.”
“How will your work schedule here affect her?”
“I think it will work out good, actually. Eunice is home in the morning to get the kids on the bus, and I’ll be free to take them every day after school.”
“Excellent.”
They went through a few more legal documents. Shannon handed him a stapled printout of recipes. “Helps to know what you’re serving,” she said. “We don’t have gluten-free or vegan, but I do occasionally manage a low-fat muffin.”
“Thanks.”
“You got any other questions for me?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Excellent. Then I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”
“At five.”
He didn’t see Jaime again on his way out, which was mildly disappointing. But he had a funny feeling he’d see Shannon’s brother on a pretty regular basis from now on—and the idea made him smile.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur's work is available from Carina Press, SMP Swerve, and Briggs-King Books.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
Davidson King
AM Arthur
No Such Thing by AM Arthur
