One more day until the weekend and 'Weekends'

Coming this Saturday, July 21st from Silver Publishing

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/877/

Marcus Hampton is a staid forty-year-old bookkeeper and a confirmed bachelor. When Demitri Costas, a young photographer, asks if he can take some pictures of Marcus, the older man is surprised but reluctantly agrees.

Demitri becomes infatuated with Marcus, despite the fact he believes the man is straight and married.

Slowly they become friends until each realizes the other is gay, at which point Marcus begins to pull away, certain he is too old for Demitri.

It will take everything within Demitri's power to convince Marcus he's wrong. If he can, and he is determined he will, one way or another, they just might find a future together.

Excerpt:

The Weekend Before Thanksgiving

Marcus stretched, checking the time before getting back to what he was doing. His fingers flew across the keyboard, his eyes following the scrolling information on the screen in front of him. It was all rote. Add this, subtract that, make certain part one equaled part two when he'd finished. He was sometimes tempted to move some of it to his own account just to see if he'd get away with it, but he was too honest to even try.

Honest as the day is long, and today seems very long.

He checked the time again.

Why the hell do I care? It's not like I've got anywhere to go other than home.

Running a hand over his short, graying blond hair, he sighed.

I'm a creature of habit and boring as hell, the stereotypical bookkeeper.

An hour later he jumped when someone tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, you planning on spending the weekend here?" one of his coworkers asked.

"Not if I can help it," Marcus told him with a small smile. He closed out the spreadsheet he'd been working on, shut down the file, and logged off. Grabbing his coat from the hook on one wall of his cubicle, he made it to the elevator just in time for the doors to close in his face.

He shook his head, pressed the 'down' button and waited, thinking, The perfect end to a perfect day, week, month, lifetime, then snorted softly. Not.

* * * *

Marcus arrived at his small house on the outskirts of the city to be greeted by a very petulant "Meow" from Daisy. She looked up at him with her full fluffy tail standing straight up and, stalked to the kitchen. When he joined her, she looked disdainfully at her empty food bowl then glared at him.

"Okay, sorry," he told her. Opening the cupboard he took out a can of her favorite cat food, popped the top off, and spooned it into her bowl.

"Now for my supper," he muttered, checking the refrigerator to see what was available, if anything.

Leftover lasagna or second-day stew, decisions, decisions.

The stew won out so he dumped it into a pan, set it on the stove to heat, and grabbed a beer before going to turn on the TV. The news was wrapping up, the weather report said it would be cold and snowy for the next few days, and his favorite team had just lost their best player to an injury.

So much for making the end of my day any better than the rest of it.

The smell of something burning had him rushing back to the kitchen. The stew was boiling over, the hot liquid hitting the burner. He rescued it, dumped the stew into a bowl and set the pan in the sink to soak with the hope he'd be able to scrape the burned residue off the bottom eventually.

As he sat down to eat he felt something soft brush his leg and seconds later Daisy had jumped up onto the other chair. She watched him avidly; meowing piteously as if she hadn't just eaten a whole bowl of her own food.

"I'm such a sucker for a pair of golden eyes," he grumbled, setting a small sliver of meat in front of her. She batted at it, sniffed it and then delicately ate it before looking at him beseechingly.

The game continued through the rest of his meal. When the bowl was empty he got up to take it to the sink, at which point Daisy knew she'd had all she was going to get and jumped down, walking sedately into the living room.

Marcus got there a few minutes later to find her curled up in her corner of the sofa grooming herself. He sat down at the other end, picked up the remote and flicked through the TV channels until he found something that might be worth watching.

* * * *

Halfway across the city Demitri Costas slammed his book shut, startling his roommate.

"Problems?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, no, I have no clue, which is actually the problem," Demitri replied. "I'm never going to understand this."

"Then drop the class. You still can, you know."

"And face the wrath of my father? Umm, no."

"Damn it, Mitri, you're twenty-three. It's time you got out from under his thumb."

"He's footing the bill."

"Do you really want to be an engineer?"

Demitri shot him a disgusted look. "What do you think?"

"I know you don't, so drop the class. Hell, drop out of school completely. You're too talented to spend your life slaving away for him." Jack pointed to the photos, which lined one wall of their living room. "Any one of those, sold to a gallery, could pay half the rent and then some and you know it."

Demitri scrubbed a hand through his dark, curly hair. "You keep saying that but…" He shook his head.

"But nothing. So help me if you don't do it, I will. Lacey knows several gallery owners, she can steer us to the right one."

A glance at the book he'd been studying made Demitri wonder if Jack had a point. "All right, I guess I can at least try. Find out from her which one would be the best and I'll see what happens."

Jack grinned. "They'll love them, you'll become rich and famous, and I'll be able to say 'I knew him when'."

"That or 'Yeah, he's the fool who thought he could make it' as you and your friends pass by me while I'm panhandling on a street corner," Demitri replied with a laugh.

"Not going to happen, Mitri. So, when do you want to do this?"

"As soon as possible before I lose my nerve."

"I'll call her and we'll go tomorrow."