Showing posts with label school 2022. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school 2022. Show all posts
Sunday, September 4, 2022
📚Sunday's Safe Word Shelf(Back to School Edition)📚: Date in a Pinch by Brigham Vaughn
Summary:
Naughty in Pendleton #1
A sweet geek and an experienced Dom: someone’s about to learn their lesson …
When chemistry teacher Neil Greene gets an unexpected delivery at Pendleton High, he's mortified when his fellow teacher and crush sees the contents that hint at the adventurous love life he’s dying to explore. Curious but inexperienced, Neil has no idea how to live out his fantasies until the hot lit teacher offers a helping hand.
Alexander Ford likes to be in charge in the bedroom and he’s happy to tutor Neil in all things naughty. But when Neil asks him to pretend to be his date for the Sweetheart’s Game at Pendleton Bay’s Love Fest, Neil may be the one teaching Alexander about love.
Warning: Date in a Pinch includes impact play, bondage, and a Dom who isn’t quite ready to admit he’s found the love of his life.
Note: Date in a Pinch was re-released in April 2021 with a brand new cover and an additional 11k of steamy new content.
ONE
“Excuse me, Ned.” The words flowed over Neil Greene just as a warm hand gently touched the center of his back. It sent a shudder down his spine, even through the layers of the chambray shirt and lightweight black sweater he wore. Not only was that an incredibly sensitive spot on his body, the voice—and presumably the hand—belonged to Alexander Ford. “Just need to grab my mail.”
“Neil,” he corrected automatically. Oh God, was that a quaver in his voice? Why couldn’t he just act like a professional around this man? Neil had been a mess ever since he walked past the door of Alexander’s classroom and heard him reading a poem by the 13th century Persian poet, Rumi. Not that at the time Neil had known who on earth the poem was by—world literature wasn’t exactly his forte. But he’d heard Alexander’s melodious, smooth voice reciting the line, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it,” and been completely done for.
Neil had lingered in the hallway, despite the fact that his planning period was nearly over and he’d desperately needed to get back to his classroom before students started filing in. The last time he’d dawdled, he’d found students lighting something on fire in the drawers of the lab tables. But despite the urgent need for Neil to supervise his unruly 5th period students, he’d slowed to a stop at the sound of Alexander’s voice, letting the words wash over him.
They’d trickled through his mind, setting off a chain of fantasies in his head that had picked up steam like an unchecked chemical reaction with no inhibiting agent in sight.
And of course, now Neil had confirmation that Alexander didn’t even know his name. He stifled a sigh. Well, that was depressing.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The heat against Neil’s back disappeared and he blindly reached for the stack of papers in his mail slot. He hoped it was his, anyway. Alexander’s proximity flustered him so much he felt completely upside down. “I thought someone said your name was Ned Greene. I must have misheard.”
There was genuine remorse in Alexander’s voice, and Neil turned to face him, the irritation and disappointment fading away at the earnest look on Alexander’s classically handsome face. Neil had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his jaw from dropping open at the sight of him. No one should look that sexy in khakis. No one. Alexander even wore a crisp, light-blue button-down with a preppy little pattern. He was always starched and polished and so handsome it made Neil’s teeth ache. Not to mention other places, but this was really not the time or place for his wayward fantasies.
Neil realized Alexander was staring at him with a quizzical look in his hazel eyes and he cleared his throat. “Ahh, yes. Neil … Neil Greene. Never gone by Ned.”
“My apologies. Neil it is.” Alexander’s smile was disarming. As was the perfect stubble highlighting his perfect jaw and framing his perfect lips. All capped off by perfectly styled medium-brown hair that was never out of place, unlike Neil’s darker and much more wayward hair.
“Alexander Ford, right?” Neil managed.
As if he didn’t know. As if he hadn’t obsessively looked through every single yearbook and previous edition of the community paper—plus Google—to learn more about him. Which hadn’t yielded a whole lot, to be honest. Alexander was frustratingly elusive online, and he’d only been hired three years ago, so there wasn’t much to go on in the school’s history.
“Yes.” Alexander held out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve ever officially been introduced.”
His firm handshake made Neil’s mind wander to what his palm would feel like on other parts of his body. Namely, his ass. Neil went hot under the collar at that thought. A lot of his fantasies had involved getting spanked while Alexander read poetry to him. Which, Neil was fairly sure wasn’t a thing that Alexander—or anyone else, for that matter—did, but how would he know? He had no experience with kink. At all.
Alexander leaned against the wall, smiling. “How have we not met? You started at the beginning of this school year, right?”
Neil nodded.
“I thought so! I noticed you around and meant to introduce myself, but there’s always some student needing help with something and …” He gave Neil a rueful little shrug, like, ‘You know how it is,’ but, unfortunately, Neil didn’t exactly have the same experience.
Neil was well-liked enough. At least as far as he knew, he didn’t have the reputation for being the kind of teacher students hated. But they adored Alexander. They crowded around his classroom when his class was over, waiting for a chance to talk to him. Teenage girls looked at him with adoring eyes, hanging on his every word, and a few boys—the braver ones—did too.
Not that Neil blamed them. He’d stare at Alexander and find excuses to be close to him too if he could get away with it. The kids hanging around Neil tended toward the nerdy chemistry geeks—like attracted like, after all—and the LGBTQ+ students. He adored them all but it wasn’t like the attention Alexander got. Which reminded Neil, he was supposed to be having a conversation out loud, not all in his head. He was not always good at that.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I sponsor the LGBTQ+ student org, so I have quite a bit on my plate too.”
Alexander’s expression brightened. “It’s great that you do that. Are you an ally or …?”
“Or,” Neil said. “I’m—I’m gay.” He’d been out since college so it wasn’t like it should be hard to say aloud, but it always was. Especially around handsome men he was crushing on.
“I thought I’d heard rumors to that effect,” Alexander said with a little wink. “But you know this place. Always something to gossip about and since it’s rarely accurate I didn’t want to assume.”
Neil nodded. “True. And you?”
“I try never to gossip,” Alexander said, his gaze earnest, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“No. I, uh—I meant …” Neil licked his lips, suddenly finding it difficult to force the words “your orientation” past his lips. “Never mind.”
Understanding flashed across Alexander’s face. “I’m bisexual.”
“Sorry.” Neil’s face heated. “I wasn’t trying to be intrusive or—”
“You’re fine.” Alexander rested a hand on Neil’s arm. There was a gentleness to his tone, but his gaze was very intense as he scrutinized Neil’s face. “I’m very open about it.”
“That’s great!” Neil said. He winced when he realized it had come out much, much louder than he’d intended. “I mean, it’s great for kids to have that representation. I mean, especially for bisexual students. They just don’t see that, especially in men, as often, so it’s really, really helpful for them to have a role model like you.”
A slow smile crossed Alexander’s face. “Maybe I should drop by your club meetings one of these days.”
“Well, it’s not my club,” Neil pointed out. “The students run it. I’m just there to make sure nothing goes too off-the-rails. But yes, that would be—that would be great.” He fumbled the last part, flustered by the idea of Alexander in that space.
“I look forward to it,” Alexander said. For a moment, they stared at each other until someone pushed past them. Two more teachers entered the mailroom in quick succession and Neil glanced at the clock on the wall. With a start, he realized what time it was. Students would be arriving soon, and he wasn’t prepared for the day.
“Oh! I should go,” he said. “I’ve got first period to get ready for and—”
A surprised expression crossed Alexander’s face as he looked at the clock too. “So do I. It was nice chatting with you, though. I look forward to seeing you around more, Neil.” Alexander touched his arm again before he turned to the bank of shelves. He snagged a pile of mail, then disappeared out the door with a little smile.
Neil smiled down at his own mail for a moment after he was gone. Had Alexander been flirting? No, that was crazy. Neil couldn’t possibly be Alexander’s type. Even if he was interested in dating a fellow teacher, it was crazy to think he’d be interested in Neil. But he’d been friendly. Neil hadn’t gotten close to many people since he’d started here—despite it being his hometown—and it would be nice if he could just be friends with Alexander.
Of course, he was ludicrously out of Neil’s league romantically. Not to mention Neil’s interest in things that weren’t very school appropriate meant that most people he dated were either baffled or disgusted by him. And the people who weren’t, well, they weren’t the type to be interested in him. Which meant he was perpetually single. Usually sexually frustrated. And that was all on top of being a chemistry geek. Neil sighed and shook his head. No, Alexander Ford was way, way out of his league.
But if Neil could get over his stupid crush, maybe they could be friends or something.
“Everything okay, Mr. Greene?”
He looked up to see Sonya Waters—the high school principal staring at him with a concerned frown on her face. Sonya had been a teacher at Pendleton High when Neil had gone here as a student and had stepped into the role of principal a few years before Neil was hired. He’d never had her as a teacher, but at his interview, her kind smile and no-nonsense approach had put him at ease.
“Ahh, yes,” he said with a smile. “Just got lost wool-gathering. Thinking about the day ahead. I came to grab my mail.” He waved it between them, only then noticing that it was not addressed to him. “I seem to have grabbed the wrong stack though,” he admitted.
He definitely wasn’t named Maryanne Grondin. That was the freshman earth sciences teacher. He stuffed the letters back into her mail slot—the one immediately below his and reached for the correct one.
“Guess it’s time for more coffee,” Sonya said with a laugh. She pushed her dark brown hair over her shoulder as he passed her, heading toward the door.
“Guess so,” Neil agreed.
She wished him a good day and he replied with the same, distracted by the thoughts of Alexander. He’d been so warm, so open. Neil had half-hoped a conversation with him would make Alexander less interesting, but unfortunately, it’d had the opposite effect.
As Neil left the main office and turned right, heading toward his chem lab, he passed Alexander’s classroom. Students were beginning to arrive, and the door was open. Alexander looked up and a warm smile crossed his face. He gave Neil a little wink that made him trip over his own feet.
Damn it all to hell, he thought as he hurried away, cheeks blazing bright. I have got to avoid that man at all costs before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
Monday's Musical Melody: Three Shots
Author Bio:
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com
Date in a Pinch #1
Saturday, September 3, 2022
📚Saturday's Series Spotlight(Back to School Edition)📚: Life Lessons by Kaje Harper
Summary:
Mac's three goals: keep Tony safe, catch the killer, don't come out.
Tony Hart's a dedicated teacher, though he's not much older than his high-school students. Between his profession, a few good friends, and plenty of books, he's content with his quiet life. Then the murdered body of another teacher falls into the elevator at his feet, and Tony's life becomes all too exciting.
Jared MacLean is a homicide detective, widowed father to a young daughter, and deeply in the closet. But from the moment he meets Tony's blue eyes in that high school hallway, Mac can't help wanting this man in his life. Mac's not out ― can't afford to be out ― but Tony makes him want the impossible.
Mac isn't the only one with their eyes on Tony, though. As the murderer tries to cover their tracks, Mac has to work fast or lose Tony, permanently.
(This is a rerelease of the 2011 original with light editing.)
Summary:
Sometimes one moment defines a man.
For homicide detective Mac, it's been a good year. Having Tony to go home to makes him a better cop and a better person. For Tony, it's been hard being in love with a man he can't touch in public. Evasions and outright lying to friends and family take a little of the shine off his relationship with Mac, but Tony is determined to make it work.
As the Minneapolis Police Department moves into a hot, humid summer, Mac is faced with a different challenge. A killer has murdered two blond women, and the police have no real clues. Mac hates to think that another murder may be the only way they'll make progress with the case. But when that murder happens, it hits close to home for Tony. And suddenly Mac faces an ultimatum: come out into the sunlight and stand beside Tony as his lover, or walk away and live without a piece of his heart.
Summary:
Murder, trauma, and raising children - who said love was easy?
Mac and Tony thought the hard part was over. They’re together openly as a couple, sharing a home and building a life with their two kids. It’s what they dreamed of.
But daughter Anna struggles with the changes, Ben is haunted by old secrets, Mac’s job in Homicide still demands too much of his time, and Tony is caught in the middle. It’ll take everything these men can give to create a viable balance between home and work. Especially when life refuses to give them a break.
(This is a lightly edited rerelease of the 2012 original novel.)
Mac is afraid he won't recover enough to go back to being a cop; Tony's afraid that he will.
Three months after being injured, Detective Jared MacLean is healing, but he's afraid it may not be enough to go back on the job. He won't give up, though. Being a cop is written deep in Mac’s bones, and he'll do whatever it takes to carry his badge again.
Tony used to wish he could have Mac safely home, but watching his strong husband battle disabilities is far from Tony's dream come true. When Mac is asked to consult on a case involving one of Tony's students, both men will have to face old demons and new fears to find a way to move forward together.
(This is a lightly edited rerelease of the 2013 original, bringing Mac and Tony to their HEA. - content warning for a domestic abuse case, suicide)
Life Lessons #1
The elevator came to life with a grinding rumble, and a thump as it arrived. The door opened, its faint ding almost erased by a familiar low buzz as the janitor began buffing the floors somewhere down the hall.
See, you’re not the only poor sap left in the building.
Tony stepped in, stabbing at the third-floor button and the close-doors button with weary impatience. One more load of books and he could head home. That first beer of the evening beckoned in his mind, cold and crisp, and the Vietnamese place down the street would deliver. He could taste the spices now. For a city smack in the middle of the Midwest, Minneapolis had great Asian food.
As the elevator ground its reluctant way upward, Tony gave himself a mental pat on the back for the result of his students’ book drive. They’d collected over two hundred books for the children’s library project they were sponsoring. Most of those had already been brought down and stowed in his car by helpful— in other words, forcibly drafted— members of his last English class of the day. He’d been about to drive away when he remembered one more box stowed away in the classroom closet. He’d almost convinced himself to leave it there till Monday, but he wanted to get this project done. The stupid ankle hadn’t crippled him. He could handle one damned box.
The third-floor indicator chimed. As the doors began to open, Tony stepped forward impatiently and was caught unprepared when a big man stumbled backward onto the elevator. The man’s elbow thumped Tony’s chest and drove him against the wall.
“Damn it, Westin! Watch where you’re going!” he snapped, recognizing the wide shoulders and trademark tweed. He grabbed for the side rail as his weight landed on his sore ankle. Ouch! Damnit! “Let me get off first.”
The big man grunted and lurched against him again, the back of his shoulder whacking Tony’s chin. Is he drunk? Or just obnoxious? Tony shoved Westin off irritably and reached out to block the doors as they began to close, but Westin’s reaction to his shove was a slow, sliding collapse down the wall of the elevator to the floor. As Tony watched in dismay, Westin rolled towards him, face sheet white, and mumbled something. He coughed, and blood, shockingly bright in the fluorescent elevator light, sprayed and bubbled down his chin. He coughed once more, wet and muffled, then lay ominously still.
Oh, Jesus! What the hell…
Tony dropped to his knees beside the man, reaching for him, imagining a heart attack or stroke or pneumonia or… but then his eyes and brain caught up with each other. The handle of a knife protruded from Westin’s blood-covered chest.
Tony’s pulse pounded in his ears. Shit, shit, shit! Westin wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. Tony realized the pounding wasn’t just his heart; running footsteps echoed down the hall. For an instant longer he knelt, frozen in place, as the elevator doors closed on Westin’s trailing feet, dinged their displeasure, and sprang open again. By the time he lunged forward and stuck his head out of the elevator, the hallway was empty. The north stairwell door was swinging shut.
I could run after whoever it was. I should try to catch them.
Instead Tony reached for Westin’s wrist, then his neck, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. The man’s shirtfront and jacket were soaked with blood, liquid and red, still trickling out around that blade and pooling by Tony’s knees on the elevator floor. The smell of urine and bowels loosening filled the elevator. Tony gagged and lunged out the doors, reaching back in to pull the emergency button and block the obscene squeeze and release on Westin’s feet.
Phone. Nine-one-one.
He reached without much hope for his cell phone. Sure enough— no service. The whole school was riddled with dead zones. That did have the benefit of keeping the students off their phones, except this time it has no fucking benefit at all. The classrooms would all be locked at this hour. He had no master key, only his own. Tony hovered one more moment, torn between Westin’s body, the stairwell, and his room way off down the corridor, with its landline.
No brainer, you stupid git, he told himself impatiently, you can’t help Brian Westin, you’re not going to catch the guy on the stairs, so call for some help.
He hobbled for his room, at the far end of a hallway that’d never seemed so long. His lock resisted the key when he jammed it in. Then there was his desk and his phone and he could finally dial nine-one-one.
“What’s your emergency?”
Amazing how good someone else’s live voice sounded right now. “He’s dead!” Tony blurted. Idiot! “I mean, one of the teachers has been stabbed, here at Rooseman.”
Breaking Cover #2
A tinny version of the theme from Dragnet woke Jared MacLean out of a sound sleep. With a now-practiced reflex, he reached for his cell phone on the nightstand with one hand and put his other hand over his bed partner’s mouth. His lover said a muffled “Mmph?” against his palm while Mac flipped the phone open.
“Hey, Mac, you awake?” Oliver’s voice demanded, much too alertly for whatever damned hour of morning it was.
“Am now,” Mac muttered. He glanced over at where Tony lay, eyes now open and shining in the faint light from the clock radio. Tony nodded slightly and Mac withdrew his hand.
“Well, drag yourself out of bed and tell her you have to go,” Oliver ordered him. “We’ve got a dead one.”
“Tell who what?” Mac asked. It was too early for what passed as his police partner’s sense of humor.
“The gal you’ve been banging. The one who has you coming in with a smile on your face lately? Tell her there’s no rest for homicide detectives and get your ass in gear.”
“There’s no girl in my fuckin’ bed,” Mac grumbled. “No fucking girl in my bed either.” “Not that there was no fucking in his bed, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his partner.
“If you say so. Here’s the address.” Oliver reeled off a street location. Mac recognized the area as one of the rougher Minneapolis neighborhoods. “Second floor, apartment twenty-two. Female victim, related to something we’ve worked on. That’s all I have so far. I’ll see you there.”
Mac shut his phone and stretched, wincing at the tightness in his shoulders. His muscles felt stiff from too many laps in the community pool yesterday, while Tony sunbathed in a lounge chair. There were reasons he hadn’t wanted to get out of the water. As long as he was waist-deep, no one would notice where his, um, interests lay. Wet swim trunks didn’t hide much.
The cause of his reluctance sat up in bed next to him. The clock’s glow outlined a slender, bare, twenty-five-year-old body. A body that’d looked much too good half naked beside the pool. Tony’s dark hair was cut shorter for summer, but those black curls still looked sleep-tousled above his steady blue eyes. If Mac turned on the light, he’d see the blush of too much sun on Tony’s fair skin. And that soft, full mouth… Mac glanced away.
“That was your work calling,” Tony said. It wasn’t a question. They knew each other’s personalized ring tones by now.
“Yep. Oliver says we’ve got a case. I’ve got to go.”
Tony glanced at the clock. “Three AM. No chance you’ll be back this morning, then. Will I see you tonight?”
“If not, I’ll call,” Mac promised. “I’ll probably be pretty late.” He leaned over and kissed Tony softly, opening his mouth for their tongues to meet. Tony slid his arms around Mac’s neck and leaned pliantly against him, but when Mac pulled back, Tony let go immediately. So far, he’d been pretty understanding about the demands of Mac’s job. So far.
“Stay safe,” Tony told him.
Mac kissed him again, hard and fast, and rolled out of bed before his body could remind him how wonderful it would be to lie back down. “Go back to sleep.”
Home Work #3
Tony Hart silently counted to ten and knelt in front of the hall closet to look directly at Mac’s daughter Anna. The tiny five- year-old stared back at him with no hint of yielding in her dark eyes.
“Anna. If you don’t wear the snow pants, you won’t get to go outside for recess. You’ll have to sit in the hallway while the other children play.”
“Don’t care.” She held the offending pants out between her thumb and forefinger, like a diva handling a dead mouse. Theatrically, she opened her fingers and let the pants fall to the floor.
“I know you like the blue ones but they’re in the hamper. You got them all muddy.”
“You should wash them. Aunt Brenda always washed my things right away.”
Aunt Brenda didn’t have another job. Tony took a breath. Not Anna’s fault that she was still adjusting to the big changes in her life. Whatever Brenda’s faults, she clearly hadn’t stinted in the care she gave Anna. Sometimes Tony wasn’t even close to measuring up. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself he was doing his best. “I’ll get to them. But there’s no way to do that before school starts this morning. You need to wear the black ones.”
“No.” Anna folded her arms and stuck out her chin.
Behind Tony, his foster son Ben grumbled, “We’re going to be late for before-school snack time. Again.”
“We’re not going to be late. Shi…shoot. Okay, Anna, you’re choosing to miss outdoor playtime if you won’t wear those pants. So be it. Get your jacket on.”
Ben kicked the doorframe. “And my boots are too tight.”
“What?” Tony straightened and turned away from Anna, who was docilely putting on her coat now that she had won her argument. “Ben, those boots can’t be too tight. We just bought them a month ago. Not even.”
The dark-haired six-year-old shrugged one shoulder, in a move clearly copied from Mac. “They pinch my toes.”
Tony closed his mouth firmly on vocabulary not fit for tender ears. “I’ll look at them later, okay? If you need new ones, we’ll get them. Later. For now, everybody get dressed. Coats, hats, mittens, not optional today. It’s really frigid out there.”
Both kids dug in the closet for hats and mitts. Tony helped Anna thread the zipper on her jacket, and located Ben’s stray mitten. He held the apartment door for them and did inventory. Warm clothes—check; lunch boxes—check; book bags—check. He grabbed his own backpack, gloves, keys. It wasn’t until they were halfway down in the elevator that he realized he’d put on his own sneakers instead of boots. To hell with it, we had ice, not snow.
The world outside was as beautiful as it was treacherous. A thick layer of ice glistened on every surface, refracting the street lamps in a thousand points of light. Every naked branch and dark pine bough shone as though polished.
“Look, Anna!” Ben took two running steps and slid on the glazed sidewalk. “It’s fun.”
Tony made a grab for Anna’s arm before she could imitate him. “Those who don’t wear snow pants don’t get to slide on the ice,” he told her. “And Ben, once was enough. You’re going to fall.”
“No, I won’t. It’s like skating.” The boy shuffled faster and spun in a little circle. His next slide stopped abruptly at a patch of bare concrete, spilling him on the ground. The boy hit the pavement hard on his hands and knees.
“Ben! Are you okay?”
“Sure.” Ben got up carefully, rubbing his hands painfully on his thighs. “It’s not so bad. I fall down skating too.”
Don’t fuss. Even after four months, Tony was still working on that part of the parenting thing. What was overprotective and what was just keeping the kid safe? Kids fall. Ben’s fine. Tony decided not to ask to see those hands. “How about if we walk carefully to the car?”
Tony kept hold of Anna’s hand as they crossed the parking lot to his Prius. When he hit the unlock button, Ben got in the back and buckled his seatbelt but Anna frowned. “I want to sit in the front.”
“You can’t. You know that. Not in my car.”
“I sit in front in Daddy’s car.”
“No you don’t.” Ben said. “We sit in the back, same as here.”
“When I’m alone with Daddy, I sit in the front.”
Tony sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. And it’s only seven a.m. “Your dad’s car doesn’t have front airbags. Mine does. It’s not safe.”
“Then maybe my Daddy can come home and drive me to school.”
Ah, that was the real issue. Mac had gotten called out of their warm bed before five that morning. Anna had not been pleased to find her father already gone when she woke up. Tony rubbed his eyes. He was tired himself, and his fuzzy brain wasn’t coming up with any parental pearls of wisdom. He told her, “Your dad won’t be home until tonight.”
“He’s never home. He never drives me to school. He never picks me up.”
Tell me about it. Mac’s schedule varied, and it didn’t mesh with the kids’ school well. Not that Tony’s was a great fit, with the high school starting an hour before the elementary. But at least there was pre-school care available, which the kids usually enjoyed. Tony could drop them off and make it to his first class. At first, he and Mac had tried to take turns whenever possible, but Mac was prone to last-minute calls. It was just easier for Tony to do the transportation. It seemed like it was just easier for Tony to do a lot of things lately.
“He’s home as much as he can be. He doesn’t do the school run but he does lots of other stuff with you. Now get in the car or we’ll be late.”
Anna’s lower lip was close to tripping her, but she climbed into the back of the car and snapped the belt across her booster seat. Tony tossed his bag in, dropped into the chilly driver’s seat, and turned the key. Bless the Prius, it started right up despite the flesh-eating cold. Tony pulled out of the parking space slowly, feeling the shaky traction on the glazed pavement. Traffic was moving carefully, already heavy despite the early hour. He waited for a comfortably large gap to pull out onto the road, and was glad of his caution as he felt the rear end fish-tail. His hands tightened on the wheel.
“If we drive this slow, we really will be late,” Ben complained. “The only good part about before-school care is the Pop-Tarts.”
“You know what? This is as fast as we can safely go. In fact, since the road is kind of icy and I really have to pay attention to my driving, I’m going to put on some music and we’ll have silent driving time.” Tony hit the CD button, and the light strains of Owl City filled the car.
Ben muttered, “I hate this music.”
Tony decided the comment was quiet enough for him to pretend he hadn’t heard it. He eased off the gas to increase the distance from his car to the one in front, and then grimaced as a more impatient driver slid over into the resulting space. Maniacs, everyone drives like a maniac lately. Tony took a glance in his mirror at the precious cargo in the backseat and slowed again to increase his following distance. Having the kids in the car made him drive like a little old lady. He couldn’t help it.
Traffic stopped for a light. Tony raised his eyes back to that rear-seat mirror mounted below his rear-view for a longer look. In the fish-eyed reflection, Anna was frowning, still turning over some grievance in her mind. Ben was staring out the window, singing along softly to the CD despite his complaint. Neither child was his own flesh and blood, and yet they were inescapably his. His with all the bone-shaking love and fear and pride and frustration that entailed.
He and Mac and these two kids were a family. That was something he’d wanted for as long as he could remember—a partner and children and a life. Not that he’d expected it to happen quite this way, with the lover dragged unwillingly from the closet, and one child gifted to him by the tragic death of the boy’s mother. But they were making it work. Tony couldn’t imagine his life without any of them now. Especially that big cop, out there chasing down murderers, who would come home to Tony in the evening and wrap him up in strong arms and keep them all safe. Mmm, yeah, Mac’s arms…
Tony dragged his attention back from daydreaming about his boyfriend. And from wishing there was a better word for Mac than boyfriend. He was driving. Not the time and place for getting distracted. He took another glance at the backseat and saw Ben nudge Anna with his elbow. Anna stuck her tongue out at her brother. He kicked her ankle and she yelped. Tony sighed, feeling the good thoughts of Mac slipping away. Yeah, he had a family all right. And I can’t wait to drop them off at school for the day. Ahead of them, the light finally turned green.
Learning Curve #4
Tony glanced up from the stove as Mac came into the kitchen. “There you are. You almost missed dinner. Luckily for you I got behind schedule.” He took a longer look. Mac’s expression was odd, at once happy and very anxious. “What have you been up to?”
“Um. Busy.”
Tony would’ve let that go, except for the way Mac wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was probably cheating to say, “You don’t have to tell me,” in a disappointed voice, but it worked.
Mac hesitated a minute longer, then said, “Oliver asked me to come in for a little while.”
“In… to the precinct?” Tony was proud of how casually he said that. “What for?”
“There was a witness who would only speak to me. He asked me to sit in on the interview.”
“Okay. This was someone you knew?”
“Something like that. Probably just a one-time deal. It was kind of fun to be useful again.”
Mac wasn’t looking at him. Tony dished out carrots and pork chops with a steady hand. “Tell me later. Would you call the kids please?”
“Sure.”
Mac seemed suspiciously happy to duck out of his line of sight and bellow up the stairs for the kids. Tony added potatoes to each plate and carried them to the table. Ben and Anna clattered down the wooden steps, the noise loud overhead. Tony mentally put “carpeting the stairs” on Mac’s to-keep-him-busy-and-not-crazy list. Maybe they could get a cheap runner carpet.
They sat in their seats and began eating. Mac had a good appetite, Tony noticed, and he seemed really interested in the kids’ accounts of their day. Really interested. He almost never looked Tony’s way. Tony ate his pork chop and plotted interrogation by blow-job for the evening. Something was definitely up…
I get asked about my name a lot. It's not something exotic, though. “Kaje” is pronounced just like “cage” – it’s an old nickname.
I live in Minnesota, where the two seasons are Snow-removal and Road-repair, where the mosquito is the state bird, and where winter can be breathtakingly beautiful. Minnesota’s a kindly, quiet (if sometimes chilly) place and it’s home now.
I’ve been writing for far longer than I care to admit (*whispers – forty years*), mostly for my own entertainment. I mainly publish M/M romance (with added mystery, fantasy, historical, SciFi…) I also have a few Young Adult stories released under the pen name Kira Harp.
My husband finally convinced me that after all that time writing for fun, I really should submit something, somewhere. My first professionally published book, Life Lessons, came out from MLR Press in May 2011. I have a weakness for closeted cops with honest hearts, and teachers who speak their minds, and I had fun writing the four novels and three freebie short stories in the series. I’ve been delighted by the reception Mac and Tony have received.
I now have a good-sized backlist in ebooks and print, both free and professionally published. A complete list with links can be found on my Books page.
I also have an author page on Goodreads where I do a lot of book reviews. You can find me to chat there– I hang out on Goodreads a lot because I moderate the Goodreads YA LGBT Books group there. I also post free short YA stories on that group, more than 50 of them so far. Or find me on Facebook.
Life Lessons #1
Breaking Cover #2
Home Work #3
Learning Curve #4
Series
Friday, September 2, 2022
📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘: The Gnomobile by Upton Sinclair
Gnomes are rare these days - which is why so few people ever see them. But Elizabeth and her Uncle find two forlorn little people, the last of a tribe of California Redwood gnomes. When they hear Glogo's sad story, they get in Uncle Rodney's shiny car (The Gnomobile) to search for another tribe of gnomes and a wife for young Bobo. But curiosity seekers cause one problem after another until something really terrible happens... Bobo and Glogo are gnome-gnaped!
This is the wildly amusing tale of two gnomes, Glogo and Bobo, who travel to America in the company of two human friends in their custom gnomobile...
CHAPTER ONE
In Which Elizabeth Meets Bobo
LITTLE girl was walking in a California forest. It was a forest containing some of the biggest trees in the world, and the little girl had never seen anything like it. She was wandering on, in a sort of daze, hardly able to believe her eyes.
They had been talking in the car about the “big trees,” the “giant redwoods”; but the words had not meant much to the child. They had been rolling along the highway, twisting and turning on mountain grades, in bright sunlight of a spring day; and suddenly the sunlight was gone, there was twilight, and a solemn hush, and a forest made of the largest of living things.
They had stopped, and got out of the car; and now, by an unusual chance, the little girl was alone with the trees. It would have been no fun with Mama, who would have said: “You will get your shoes dirty,” or “There may be rattlesnakes.”
By the roadside was a tree with a great hole cut in it, and a tavern inside, in which you could sit at a table and drink a glass of beer, or of soda water—“Believe it or not,” said the sign. There were picture postcards of this, and Mama’s traveling companion, Miss Jellife, wanted some to send to friends in the East. Mama was helping her to choose them; the chauffeur was getting some gas; and so Elizabeth was left to gaze at the trees and to walk among them.
Beyond each giant was another, seeming even more marvelous, so that one was drawn on by a magic spell. There were some so big that fifty little girls might have clasped hands and made a ring about their base. The bark was gray-brown and deeply fluted, it looked so soft that you would think to squeeze it with your hands, but it was iron-hard. Under foot was a carpet several feet deep, soft and yielding, made of dust which had dropped from these trees for thousands of years. About the spreading bases of the trees were masses of frail greenery, with faint glimmers of sunlight playing over them; a feeble sunlight, coming from far away, a sun almost played out and dead. Over it all lay a hush as of twilight, of Sunday, the inside of a cathedral—every kind of solemn thing of which you could think.
Beauty and wonder absorbed Elizabeth completely; she went on, softly, reverently, lured by this new sight and that, forgetting the rest of the world. Every tree was different; the ones in the distance seemed bigger than those near at hand. She had been brought up in a city, and knew only shade trees, and woodlands planted by man. Now she had come suddenly into a new world that broke all the rules.
She was not so much surprised at what happened next. If in this forest there were the biggest of all living things, why should there not also be the smallest? Anything was possible where a hundred million years of history confronted you, and the forces of nature were freed from restraint. Elizabeth came upon a tree with a great fire-blackened hole straight through it, a hole so big that Mama’s limousine could have been driven through without being scratched. She started to peer inside, but it was so dark that it frightened her, and instead she tiptoed around the trunk. On the other side was a rock, over which the tree had grown; on the top of the rock was a fringe of lovely plants, azaleas, and oxalis, and ferns; and peering out over the top of these was a tiny face.
A face about the size of your fist, unless you have a very big fist. It might have been the face of a squirrel, of course, or of an owl, or of a bear cub. But as it happened, it wasn’t any of these: it was a face in all ways human, except that it was so small. It had bright, round, rosy cheeks, tiny blue eyes, hair the color of cornsilk, and above it a tiny little peaked brown cap. It was a startled face; and Elizabeth stopped dead still, and the two of them stared at each other.
At last the little man spoke, in a tiny piping voice. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said; and Elizabeth said quickly: “No, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
The little man studied her gravely, and at last remarked, “You look like a very nice person.” She answered: “Mama is satisfied most of the time.”
The little man studied her some more, and at last inquired: “You do not hurt things?”
“Not if I can help it,” said Elizabeth.
“But do you cut down trees?”
“Oh, no! Truly, I have never cut down a tree.”
“But you will do it when you grow bigger?”
“No, no, I assure you, such a thing would not be ladylike.”
The little man seemed pleased. “That is a pretty dress you have on,” he said next. “Where do you get such things?”
“This came from Marcel’s,” said Elizabeth. “It is a place on Fifth Avenue.” She added: “In New York.”
The little man shook his head. “I have lived all my life in this forest. I am very ignorant.”
“I am sure,” said Elizabeth politely, “you must know lots of things that would be interesting to me.”
“I would be glad to tell you,” said the little man. He added anxiously: “If I were sure that it is right for me to talk to you.”
“Why shouldn’t it be right?”
“You are the first big person I have ever spoken to. I have never been allowed to speak to one.”
“Who is it that forbids you?”
“Glogo.”
“And who is Glogo?”
“He is my grandfather.”
“And what is the matter that you cannot speak to big people?”
“He says they are all murderers.”
“Oh, surely not!”
“They murder the trees. They destroy the forests, and that is the end of life.”
Elizabeth pondered. “I suppose it does seem that way, when you come to think of it,” she said. “But please believe me, I have never hurt even the smallest tree. And as for the big ones—how could I, if I wanted to?”
“You will be bigger some day, will you not? You are not a grown-up person. How old are you?”
“I am twelve.”
“How strange to think that you should be so big, and only twelve years old!”
“They call me small for my years. How old are you?”
“I just had my hundredth birthday last week.”
“And yet you do not look at all old!”
“Glogo is more than a thousand years old.”
“Oh, how wonderful! He must be as old as these trees.”
“These trees were here before Glogo’s grandfather. No one knows how old they are.”
Elizabeth looked at the trees again. So they really were as old as they seemed! Her eyes followed the giant columns, turning red as they ascended—up, up, to the very top of the world. There were spreading branches, and a roof of green, so far away that one could not see what it was made of. There was flickering sunlight, red, green, golden, all magically still, enchanted. Her eyes came down the trunk again, to the great base, fire-scarred, torn by lightning, patiently repaired with new buttresses, outworks of bark a foot deep. Just beyond was a shattered stump, with new trees growing out of it; and beyond that a column which had fallen a thousand years ago, and lay proof against every form of decay, with only a light crown of ferns along the ridge.
“This is really a most interesting forest,” she said, “and I am glad to learn about it. Would you mind telling me what you are?”
“Grandfather says that we are gnomes.”
“I have read about gnomes, but I did not know they were real.”
“I am quite real,” said the gnome.
“I am sure you are very kind and well-bred people. Are there many of you?”
“So far as I know there are only two, Glogo and me.”
“Oh, dear me! What has become of the rest?”
“That I do not know. They have disappeared, one and then another; we do not know where they have gone. Glogo says it is because men have cut down the forests.”
“That is truly terrible. I never thought about it.”
“Glogo is very sad,” continued the gnome. “He is sad about many things, and does not tell me the reasons. I have been much worried about him. For a long time I have thought that I should ask some big person for advice. Could you help me?”
“You must understand,” explained Elizabeth, “that I am only a child and do not know very much. But I will tell you anything I can.”
“Have you ever heard of a person sitting by himself all the time, and looking mournful, and not wanting to eat?” “Yes, I have,” said Elizabeth. “It was that way with my Aunt Genevieve. They had to get all kinds of doctors to advise her. What they call specialists.”
“And what did they say?”
“They called it neurasthenia.”
“I don’t think I could say a word like that,” said the gnome.
“It’s a way the doctors have,” said Elizabeth. “They make up such long words, it frightens you.”
“What did they do about your aunt?”
“They did all kinds of things: mud baths, and massage, and baking with electricity, and pills, but it didn’t do much good. In the end they told her that she must have a change of scene. Mama said it was because they were tired of her.”
“Did the change help her?”
“We don’t know. She’s in Europe now. She sends us postcards.”
“I wonder if it would help Glogo to have a change of scene. We have been in all the forests around here.”
“I should think that in a thousand years he would have come to know the forests, and everything in them. Maybe he needs a change of diet. What do you eat?”
“We live on fern seed.”
“And what do you drink?”
“We drink honeydew from the flowers.”
“My, how interesting! It sounds awfully nice; but doesn’t it take a lot of time to gather enough fern seed and honeydew?”
“We gnomes have plenty of time.”
“Maybe a change of diet would help Glogo. Maybe it would do him good to see the world.”
“How could it be done?” asked the gnome anxiously.
The amateur doctor stood in thought. “Let me tell you about my Uncle Rodney,” she said. “We are going to visit him and his father—that is, my grandfather—in a big city called Seattle. Maybe you don’t know what a city is; it is a place where a great many people live. Rodney is older than I am, but not so very old; he has been to college, and knows a great deal more than I do. Also he is kind and good; he has never cut down any trees, so perhaps Glogo would not mind meeting him.”
“I don’t know,” said the gnome. “It would be hard to arrange.”
“Rodney—I call him that, he says that ‘uncle’ makes him feel so old—is very good fun. I mean, he says such funny things, he would keep Glogo happy. Another thing, he has some money, and I haven’t.”
“What is money?”
“Well, it is hard to explain. It is what you get things with—I mean among us people. You would have to have money if you were going to take Glogo to see the world.”
The gnome pondered all these ideas. “Would Rodney come to see Glogo?” he inquired.
“I am sure he would. He has probably never met a gnome, and would be much interested.”
“I will tell you what I think. It will be better not to say anything to Glogo. He might be very angry; he might go away into the forest, and never be seen again. Let us get Rodney to come and talk it over with me, and we will then find some way for Glogo to meet Rodney by accident.”
“Oh, that will be fine!” exclaimed the girl.
“When do you think he will come?”
“We expect to get to the city tomorrow. I will talk to Rodney, and we will come, three days from today. If we do not, it will be because he is away, or sick, or something.”
“You will surely come?”
“Oh, yes, indeed. It is most interesting. It is really educational. Even Mama would admit it—that is, she would if she could believe it. I don’t think I shall tell Mama; she says I am imaginative, and would think that I have made you up, and scold me about you.”
Elizabeth stopped, as if she thought it was not quite proper for a little girl to know so much about her mother.
At that moment the peace of the forest was broken by the sound of an automobile horn some distance away. “That is the car,” said Elizabeth.
“One of those little houses that I see running by so fast? What is it that makes it go?”
“It is the engine,” said Elizabeth. “Rodney will explain it to you better than I can. He has one of his own, and will bring me in it. I must go now, or Mama will think that I am lost. She is calling.”
Voices were heard in the distance; and Elizabeth put her two hands to her mouth and gave a loud “Yoo-hoo—” a sound which caused the little man to put his fingers in his ears. “My, what a terrifying voice you have!”
“I will use it to call you,” replied the girl. “You have not told me what name I shall call.”
“My name is Bobo.”
“Bobo and Glogo. What pretty names! Mine is Elizabeth.”
“That is a long name,” said Bobo, and repeated it slowly. “I will learn to say it before you come back. You will surely come?”
“I’ll come,” called Elizabeth, already running toward the sounds. “Good-by, Bobo!”
The little round face disappeared behind the greenery, and Elizabeth hurried as fast as she could to where the two anxious ladies were waiting. “Oh,” cried Mama, “you have ruined your shoes!” And she added: “Don’t you know there are rattlesnakes in those woods?” Miss Jellife said: “You might have had a glass of soda inside a tree.”
“I am going to learn to drink honeydew inside a flower,” replied Elizabeth.
Mama sighed, as they were getting into the car: “This child is so imaginative!”
Release Date: July 19, 1967
Release Time: 84 minutes
Director: Robert Stevenson
Cast:
Walter Brennan – D.J. Mulrooney/Knobby
Matthew Garber – Rodney
Karen Dotrice – Elizabeth
Richard Deacon – Ralph Yarby
Tom Lowell – Jasper
Sean McClory – Horatio Quaxton
Ed Wynn – Rufus the Gnome King
Jerome Cowan – Dr. Ramsey
Charles Lane – Dr. Scoggins
Norman Grabowski – Male Nurse
Gil Lamb – Gas Attendant
Maudie Prickett – Katie Barrett
Cami Sebring – Violet
Cast:
Walter Brennan – D.J. Mulrooney/Knobby
Matthew Garber – Rodney
Karen Dotrice – Elizabeth
Richard Deacon – Ralph Yarby
Tom Lowell – Jasper
Sean McClory – Horatio Quaxton
Ed Wynn – Rufus the Gnome King
Jerome Cowan – Dr. Ramsey
Charles Lane – Dr. Scoggins
Norman Grabowski – Male Nurse
Gil Lamb – Gas Attendant
Maudie Prickett – Katie Barrett
Cami Sebring – Violet
Author Bio:
Upton Beall Sinclair, Jr. was an American author who wrote close to one hundred books in many genres. He achieved popularity in the first half of the twentieth century, acquiring particular fame for his classic muckraking novel, The Jungle (1906). To gather information for the novel, Sinclair spent seven weeks undercover working in the meat packing plants of Chicago. These direct experiences exposed the horrific conditions in the U.S. meat packing industry, causing a public uproar that contributed in part to the passage a few months later of the 1906 Pure Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act. The Jungle has remained continuously in print since its initial publication. In 1919, he published The Brass Check, a muckraking exposé of American journalism that publicized the issue of yellow journalism and the limitations of the “free press” in the United States. Four years after the initial publication of The Brass Check, the first code of ethics for journalists was created. Time magazine called him "a man with every gift except humor and silence." In 1943, he won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.
Sinclair also ran unsuccessfully for Congress as a Socialist, and was the Democratic Party nominee for Governor of California in 1934, though his highly progressive campaign was defeated.
Film
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