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212 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 27, 2015
“It’s this boy, isn’t it?” [Brad's mother] nodded toward Danny with a look like she’d stepped on a worm and had to clean it off the bottom of her shoe. “Have you considered that he’s only after your money? He’s no better than a whore, using you for what you can do for him.”Pretty awe-inspiring, huh?
“You will leave my house. Now.” Mrs. Ortega stood and crowded close to Brad’s mother. “You will not come into my house and talk about my child this way.”
She jabbed her finger at [Brad's] mother and continued her tirade. “You are a disgrace. You are his Madre, no? He is your child and you talk to him of duty and money? What about love and protection? Not in my house. You will leave this minute.”
With every step Mrs. Ortega made, his mother took one back. “Out. Now. You will leave Brad alone. He deserves a Madre who will love him, not one who threatens him. And no one, no one, talks about my child in such a way.”
What if he couldn’t be the kind of boyfriend Danny wanted? What if he tried and nothing changed? Danny deserved someone proud to be seen with him, not someone who wanted to hide from the world.So Brad tries. And tries again. And keeps on trying, until he finally starts getting it right and the HEA finally starts looking like it will stick.
If Brad left, Danny could find someone better.
Oh, hell no.
The violence of his reaction surprised him. And told him he wouldn’t be going anywhere, not right away.
“Crap, crap, crap. Why are all these people out driving? Where are they going? I need to find a place to pull over, like right now.”And my personal favorite, while driving to a department store and Brad mentions lube, then Danny blurting like very few I've ever experienced before :
“You love me?”
“Shh,” Danny hissed. “Not until I park. Damn it, people,” he shouted at the cars on either side of him, “get the hell off the road! Ah, there!”
“Don’t say lube. You can’t say lube and expect me to keep driving. If you say lube I’ll think of sex. And when I think of sex, I think of you. I think of sex with you and my brain explodes and I become a throbbing mass of hormones, and I can’t be expected to pick out pillows when I’m a throbbing mass of hormones. I’ll probably jump you on the comforter display, or fall into a knife display because I’ll be daydreaming about you and lube and sex. You see how this is a crisis waiting to happen. So don’t say lube, okay?”And I'll add one last morsel, just in case you still need convincing, from outside Brad's brother's appeal as his mother makes another unwelcome appearance:
“He stays or I go,” Brad said simply, and re-laced his fingers with Danny’s.
Her eyes blazed at the connection. “Why do you persist in acting in this deviant way? I had hoped military school would have cured you of that.”
“Deviant?” Danny snapped, releasing Brad’s hand to prop it on his jutting hip. Brad bit his lip. Danny looked like the worst—or the best, depending on one’s perspective—gay stereotype. “You’ll watch your voice or you’ll see how deviant I can be. I’ll take my gay, Mexican ass into that room and flame so bright, the place will erupt in rainbows and glitter.”
