I’m pleased to announce that Dreamspinner Press has my sixth
novel, Daddy’s Money, in paperback and all eBook formats. You can also find all
my books on Amazon.
Blurb: Everyone needs a little help now and then. For gay Muslim Sayen
Homet, that help first came from his understanding mother, who brought him to
America from the Middle East. Now that he’s working his way through Stanford
Medical School, his help comes from a secret sugar daddy. But Sayen might be
able to end their arrangement soon now that he has a boyfriend he can depend
on, A student Campbell Reardon. Campbell is more than willing to support Sayen,
even if it means coming out to his conservative family.
But
when Campbell takes Sayen home to meet his parents, everything falls apart.
Campbell doesn’t realize how his boyfriend pays for school… and neither of them
knows Sayen’s sugar daddy is Campbell's father, Blake Reardon.
While
everyone involved struggles to overcome their shock, it becomes obvious Blake
will do anything to keep Sayen. Campbell and Sayen love each other, but in the
face of so much hurt and betrayal, love might not be enough to hold them
together.
Excerpt: Campbell Reardon watched a woman’s face,
red and dripping with sweat, scrunch into a mask of pure agony. Her breathing
became loud, frantic, crescendoing into a scream. “Oh God! What’s happening?”
Her panting accelerated, wet sobbing breaths on the verge of hyperventilation.
She leaned back on the table with a sheet draped over her elevated knees.
Her husband held
her hand, stroking her forehead. “Breathe, sweetheart. Concentrate.”
The woman’s
moans built into another scream.
On the far side
of the room, Nurse Peggy Warren prepared bathwater and blankets. She had a
bird’s narrow lips, bottle-red hair with forties-era bangs, and a Carolina
accent that always sounded slightly pretentious. Beside Campbell, crusty old
Dr. Crill studied his wristwatch, timing the pains. Campbell was feeling his usual sting of
resentment that came whenever he had to work with Dr. Crill. The dinosaur should have retired when I was
in diapers. He was convinced that the reason Crill treated him with disdain
was not the fact that he was a handsome twenty-six-year-old with wavy blond
hair, perfect teeth, and brimming with life, but rather that everything about
Campbell spelled money—manners, posture, grooming. Everything except the
nervous expression he could feel on his face at that moment.
“Late again,” Crill
snapped. “How many times have I warned him?”
Crill glared at
Campbell with hard, unfathomable eyes until good manners forced Campbell to
look away. He turned his head to stare out a bank of windows overlooking
Stanford campus, but what caught his attention was a moth with squiggly yellow
markings on its wings battering itself against the inside of the windowpane.
“I’m sure he’s
only moments away, Dr. Crill.” Campbell continued to watch the moth, somehow
hoping it would find a way back outside, to break free and ride the wind. He
yearned for a miracle, and he knew that his desire had more to do with Sayen
than the moth.
The woman in
labor screamed again as agony arched her back off the table.
“Be strong,
sweetheart,” her husband crooned. “Breathe deeply.”
She reached up
and slapped her husband’s face once, twice. She tried for a hat trick but he
pulled out of her reach. “Don’t tell me to breathe you turd… DO SOMETHING! Make
them give me the fucking shot!”
“We have plenty
of time here,” Dr. Crill said to Campbell. “I’ll be at the nurse’s station
checking on other patients. Send the nurse for me if the baby crowns.”
Campbell nodded.
“And Campbell,
if Sayen is not here by the time I return, I’m washing him out of the program.
We take medicine seriously on this campus, and that means showing up on time,
every time.”
“We don’t know
what’s keeping him,” Campbell snapped, his anger leaping into the red zone. “It
could be an emergency.”
The expression
on Crill’s face revealed he did not like the tone the conversation had taken.
He closed his eyes, obviously trying to determine if he was over reacting.
“What do you think he’d prefer, Campbell, washing out of the program or setting
him back a year?”
Campbell turned
his attention to the windows. The moth still battered itself against the glass.
“Are those the only choices, killing his dream or throwing him deeper into debt
and delaying graduation by a year? Well, thanks. I’m sure he’ll be humbled with
gratitude.”
Crill’s eyes
narrowed as they followed Campbell’s stare to the window. “As well he should
be. Few people get to choose.” He stood silent, no doubt waiting for a proper,
reverential response. When none came he said, “Very well.”
Crill picked a
pad of paper from a nearby table, strolled to the window, lifted the pad, and
smashed the moth.
Campbell willed
his face into neutral as his anger turned into shame, which stemmed less from
ingratitude than from the dangerous way he had allowed himself to reveal his
contempt when it could have been so easily concealed. That was a weakness that
could get him drummed out of medical school, and he vowed never to allow
himself that response again. His only hope of becoming a doctor was to placate
Crill and all the other arrogant bastards like him in a self-effacing manner. And that I will do, no matter what.
Campbell’s chest
squeezed tight. His lungs labored and his eyes watered. He reached into his
pocket for his inhaler and lifted it to his mouth. One squirt brought sweet
relief, and that helped calm him.
As Dr. Crill
breezed out the doorway, another wave of pain rocked the patient. She grabbed
her husband by the shirt-collar and squeezed. He fought to suck air into his
lungs. As the pain rolled away, the husband pulled back, gasping for breath. He
staggered to Campbell and clutched his arm. “Doc, you gotta give her that
shot.”
Campbell glanced
at the doorway, thinking he should probably go after Crill, but clearly not
wanting to. “I wish I could, Mr. Bishop, but I’m a student here. I’m not
allowed to administer drugs without a doctor’s supervision.”
“There must be
something you can do. I mean, look at her. She’s in agony!”
Mr. Bishop
clenched Campbell’s arm so tight he was in pain himself. Campbell could feel
beads of sweat breaking onto his forehead. “Dr. Crill will be back any second.
As soon as he’s here, I’ll administer the shot. I promise.”
Another scream
sent Mr. Bishop back to his wife’s side to dab her forehead with a damp cloth.
Nurse Peggy
turned on Campbell like an attack dog. “Her pains are under a minute. I’ll get
Dr. Crill.”
Campbell rushed
to put himself between Nurse Peggy and the door. He held out a hand to stop
her. “We have to wait for Sayen,” he choked. He gave himself another blast from
his inhaler.
The patient’s
groans were constant. Her screams grew razor sharp. “Please, Doc,” Mr. Bishop
pleaded, “do something.”
“I’m not making
that poor woman suffer another second,” Nurse Peggy snapped.
“Peggy, no.
Please don’t!”
“Screw Sayen!”
She hurled past Campbell and jerked open the door, but then froze by what she
saw in the corridor. Campbell cocked his head to the left so he could see out
the doorway, and what seemed to fill the long hallway was Sayen on his
skateboard, flying toward them like a charging bull.
“Hold the door,”
Sayen yelled only moments before he rocketed into the delivery room. He leaned
back on the board, screeching to a halt, then popped the board up and caught it
with expertlike ease.
Sayen returned
Nurse Peggy’s glare as the ends of his mouth lifted. “Hey, Pickles, you look
more sour every time I see you. Lighten up and enjoy life.”
“Stop calling me
that.”
Campbell stepped
close to Sayen, and as he did, he felt that familiar weakness come to his
chest, that feeling of awkwardness he always felt around this beautiful man.
Sayen had a long face, bushy eyebrows suspended above deep-set eyes, the
suggestion of a moustache set over impossibly thin lips, and a prominent Adam’s
apple that constantly battled against his starched collar. “Crill is ready to
wash you out. I’ve been stalling for time.”
Sayen grabbed
Campbell’s wrist and turned it to check the face on Campbell’s Rolex. “I’m
exactly on time.”
Campbell felt
the heat from Sayen’s fingers on his wrist. He was always amazed at how this
lovely man generated so much energy, as if he held an entire universe of
burning life deep within, a brilliant comet streaking across an empty sky. “On
time for Crill means ten minutes early. You know that.”
Another scream
from the patient sent Nurse Peggy hurrying out the doorway.
“We both know
that decrepit boob can’t even see his watch,” Sayen spat. “This has nothing to
do with being late, and everything to do with him being a homophobic swine.”
“No argument
there.” Yes, Campbell knew the truth of it all too well, and he felt a wave of
admiration for this Muslim man who had the courage to be completely out. He
also felt a tiny twinge of shame for not having the same pluck. In Sayen’s
excited state, he had yet to let go of Campbell’s wrist. “If you’re timing my
pulse, let me assure you, now that you’re here my heart rate has doubled.”
Sayen dropped
Campbell’s arm. “We better scrub up before Pickles comes back dragging that
knuckle scraper.”
They walked to
the sink, rolled up the sleeves of their lab coats, and, side by side, soaped and
scrubbed. Campbell felt waves of
coziness. He seldom had the chance to be this close to Sayen. He could feel the
energy radiating from him, and that warm strength comforted him. He nudged
closer, but Sayen moved further away.
“Have dinner
with me tonight,” Campbell said in a low voice.
Sayen glanced
up, lifting one eyebrow. “You know I’m in a relationship.”
“Ah yes, the
mystery man. Nobody believes he’s real.”
Sayen rinsed his
hands. “He’s real alright. He just travels in different social circles.”
“He’s married?”
“Fuck off.”
Sayen grabbed a towel and dried his hands. He turned his back on Campbell and
slipped on rubber gloves.
Campbell cast
his towel aside and lifted a glove. “I’d show you off regardless if I had a
wife. Don’t you think you deserve better than that?” He stared into Sayen’s
eyes. It never failed to amaze him that a man of North African ancestry, with
thick, jet-black hair on his head and fine hair covering his arms, would have
eyes the color of the sea. But then a purple spot below Sayen’s lips caught his
attention. “You have a smudge of jam on your chin.”
Sayen held up
his gloved hands, hesitating. Campbell felt a burning desire to lean forward
and lick that sweet jelly off that bronzed skin, but instead he pulled a white,
monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Sayen. He smiled.
“Keep it.”
Sayen hesitated
again, until Campbell said, “It’s only a hankie, not an engagement ring.” Sayen
dropped his head, taking the handkerchief and cleaning his chin, then he slipped
it into his pocket. He glanced at the patient, at her spread legs. His head
jerked back to Campbell, a mask of panic etched his face.
“What’s wrong,”
Campbell whispered.
“That’s my
undergraduate-English teacher, Miss Bishop. Jesus, I can’t do this.” He pulled
the white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead, leaving a faint
line of purple.
In the three
years that Campbell had known Sayen, this was the first time he had ever seen
the man so unnerved. He laid a calming hand at the back of Sayen’s neck,
gentling him like an unbroken colt. “I thought you’d jump at the chance to rip
the guts out of a homophobic Bishop.”
“This is no
joke. She and I were really close. I can’t deal with her like this.”
“You can’t walk
away from the people you care for, Sayen. She’s a woman in pain, and we’re
going to help her bring new life into the world. Just focus on the baby.”
Sayen glanced at
her spread legs again as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Shit, it’s crowning.
What should we do?”
Campbell shrugged
his shoulders. “You’re going to deliver a baby, what else?” He walked to the
patient’s spread legs and lifted the sheet higher. He moved to Mrs. Bishop’s
side and took her hand. He nodded to the husband, then to her. “Looks like
someone is anxious to see its parents. It won’t be long now.”
Gloved and
masked, Sayen advanced on Mrs. Bishop’s spread legs, but then he froze.
Campbell, aware
that his friend’s distress had deepened, came to his aid. “What now?”
“There’s blood
oozing out.”
“For Christsake,
move over.” Campbell shoved Sayen aside and bent between the patient’s legs.
Mrs. Bishop’s constant cries could shatter glass, but Campbell stayed calm,
working to support the baby’s head as the tiny body emerged into the world.
“Mrs. Bishop, I need you to push now. Push as hard as you can.”
Sayen turned
away as more blood appeared. He continued to dab his face with the
handkerchief, which became completely damp.
“You owe me
dinner for this,” Campbell said over his shoulder, “and I’m hungry for sushi.”
Sayen leaned
over the sink but managed to hold his stomach down. He glanced up at his image
in the mirror and visibly tried to pull himself together. “You know I can’t
afford sushi. How about Mickey D’s?”
Campbell shook
his head, secretly please that he had gotten a dinner commitment out of this
lovely man. “My dime. Sushi To Die For on 3rd Avenue, seven-thirty. And don't
be late.”
Campbell pulled
the baby away from the mother. “It’s a girl, Mrs. Bishop,” he said, holding it
up for the parents to see.
Campbell held
the infant while Sayen cut and tied the cord. They stood together at the foot
of the bed while Campbell tried coaxing the baby into breathing. It didn’t
respond.
“Slap it’s
butt,” Sayen hissed.
Campbell shook
his head. “We don’t do that any more. That was covered in one of the many
classes you missed.”
“Fine, Mister
Adorkable, do something!”
On her own, the
baby balled her tiny fingers into fists and let out a cry that let the whole
room know she was a fighter.
Relief swept
through Campbell. He held that tiny bundle of bawling life in his hands as he
gazed into Sayen’s fatally blue eyes, and he felt something pass between them,
something so warm and natural it felt, well…loving. There was no other word for
it. Caught in the wonder of seeing new life emerge into the universe, so frail
and so dependent on him, he felt his infatuation for Sayen blossom into
something deeper, some unknown force he could only call love.
They moved
together as if joined at the hip to the waiting bath water, and worked as a
team to fastidiously wash the tiny, pink body. Campbell felt warmth pour from
Sayen as they fawned over the infant. It seemed as if their three bodies became
one glowing force of nature, bound by some invisible strength. But even caught
in this cocoon of heartfelt feelings, Sayen seemed to pull back.
“I can’t believe
you’re so hot to be strapped down with one of these,” Sayen said. “I mean, they
cry, keep you up all night, cost a fortune, and they smell.”
The baby
continued to cry as Campbell lifted it out of the bathwater. “They give you
unconditional love, which is something I’m in short supply of lately.” He
wrapped the infant in a blanket and handed her to Sayen. Nuzzling into Sayen’s
protective embrace, she stopped crying. Sayen pressed his cheek to the baby’s
forehead, humming a soothing tune.
The baby seemed
to smile. Both men shared a wonder-filled moment, drawn close to each other,
with the baby between them. They could almost kiss.
Sayen broke away
from the moment to cross the room and press the baby into its mother’s arms.
Mrs. Bishop’s tears were now joyful. She cuddled her infant, then grabbed
Sayen’s hand and pulled him toward her like a fish on a line, kissing his
cheek. A line of red moved up from Sayen’s collar to cover his entire face.
Mrs. Bishop
grabbed her husband and kissed him. “It’s a girl. Honey, we have a baby girl. I
love you. I love you so much.”
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