Blurb:

Jake and Dave lived and loved for over fifty years. During that time, they campaigned for gay rights. They married each other three times until, finally, in 2013, the United States Supreme Court declared DOMA to be unconstitutional and thus legalized their union. They made a family and raised four beautiful children together. When he loses Dave to a massive stroke, Jake feels his world has ended. Join him as he relives a life well-lived through memories triggered by photos of his and Dave’s years together. Jake feels as though Dave is still sitting beside him. As each picture is described, he reminds Dave of when and where it was taken. The reader is then taken to that time and place.

Buy Link : Amazon

About the Author

A. T. Weaver is the pen name of a Kansas City grandmother of ten. She lives with her cat, Cleopatra, in downtown Kansas City, MO. When she was growing up, the word gay meant happy and carefree and homosexuals were called queer or ‘one-of-those’. However, she never heard those terms until she was married and a mother. In 2003, through a TV show called Boy Meets Boy, A.T ‘met’ over 3,000 gay men in a Yahoo group. These men educated her as to the inequalities suffered by the LGBT community and she became a staunch ally. She visited one of the men in San Francisco who lived just up the street from the Castro. As he showed her around, they stopped in front of what was once Harvey Milk’s camera store. Her question, “Who was Harvey Milk?” started her education into Gay history. A. T.’s aim is to move you in some way. Whether you laugh or cry, love it or hate it, she welcomes all comments, whether good or bad.

http://ahttp://alixtheweaver.wordpress.com/

http://atweaver-writer.com/

mailto:alixtheweaver@yahoo.com

 

Guestpost:

Why I write what I do.

 

When I was growing up back in the 1950s, I don’t ever remember hearing the word homosexual. Maybe I was just sheltered, but I didn’t know such people existed. Early in my marriage, my husband and I lived in a mobile home court in St. Charles, MO. Two men moved in down the street and my husband informed me they were “as queer as three-dollar bills” and I had to ask what he meant. They seemed to be nice men; in fact one even gave me a ride to work in St. Louis a couple of times after my husband wrecked our car. One of the other young mothers raised a fuss about them, but I never saw anything wrong.

We moved back to Kansas City in 1965 and lived in the HeartMobileVillage out on 40 Highway. A few years later, two men moved in across the street from us. To me they were just two men. Again my husband had to say something about them being queer. Their names were Drew Shafer and Mickey Ray. Mickey became, if not a close friend, a friend. When we moved to Prairie Village, we still went back to see Mickey in his plays. When my son was fifteen, he decided he wanted to be an actor. Mickey came to Prairie Village and took him to an audition and he got the part. My friends thought it was terrible that I let my teenaged son go with ‘that queer’.

We lost track of Mickey and Drew. In 1991, I was working for an organization that had several gay employees. I asked one of them if he could find the guys. He came back with the news that Drew had died of AIDS and Mickey had gone back to New York. For twenty years, I assumed Mickey had also died. It was with joy that I discovered in 2010 that he is still alive.

Now the how and why I became a writer. In 2003, there was a TV show on Bravo called Boy Meets Boy. It was billed as a gay version of The Bachelor with a twist. I had watched both The Bachelor and The Bachelorette and was thoroughly disgusted with them so decided to see what this show was like. Well, it turned out the twist was that half of the contestants were straight. About halfway through the show, I found a Yahoo group of fans of the show and started messaging with the other members. At the high    point, there were nearly 4,000 members (only a handful were not gay men). After the show was over, several of us stayed in the group and corresponded for almost two years. I became educated to the inequity between gays and straights as far as the laws go.

A couple of the guys invited me to spend a weekend in San Francisco. Since I wasn’t working and my mother lives in Turlock, CA, I went. I met three of the guys and stayed at the home of the man I now call my GBF. The first day I was there, he took me on a tour out The Castro. We stopped at a spot with a small plaque on the sidewalk. When he said, “This is where Harvey Milk had his camera store”, my response was, “Who’s Harvey Milk?” I soon learned. Not only who Harvey Milk was, but also about Stonewall, Matthew Shephard and a lot of other things.

It was to Steve I mentioned my desire to someday write a romance novel. He said he would love to read a book where “the boy gets the boy and they ride off into the sunset together.”

And that’s what I write. I do not write erotica. Although my books are not “G” rated, they are not porn. I try to show that gay men are just like everyone else. In the words of Danny in The Boss’s Son, “I want someone to laugh with me when I’m happy, cry with me when I’m sad and someone to grow old with.”

Both Acceptance and First Impressions have a little message. In Acceptance the families of the two men act completely opposite when they find out their son is gay. In First Impressions (although I didn’t realize it until after the book was published) every time Dave and Jesse encounter homophobia, there is a straight ally to stand up for them.

Although my characters are not truly based on anyone, a lot of the situations that occur are based on stories told to me by gay men.

Julia A. Flowers

a/k/a A. T. Weaver

EXCERPT:

When they pulled into the driveway, Chrissy got out of the back seat and helped Jake out. She hugged him and said, “Goodnight, Daddy. See you in the morning.”

He said, “Goodnight,” and walked toward the cottage. He stopped, pulled a knife from his pocket and cut a rose from one of Dave’s bushes planted on both sides of the walk and held it to his nose.

“That’s weird,” Chrissy said as she got back into the car.

“What’s weird,” Brad asked.

“For one thing, Daddy wasn’t crying. He always cries at the least little thing.” She frowned. “Plus, ever since I can remember, Daddy and Papa both, when they say goodnight, it’s always ‘Goodnight, see you in the morning.’ He didn’t say it.”

“Honey, he’s hurting. After all, he and your Papa were together a long time.” Brad placed his arm around her. “He’s probably in shock.”

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed.

* * *

Jake walked into the cottage, laid the rose on the hall table, removed his jacket and hung it on a hook inside the hall closet. He took Dave’s green sweater from a hanger, slipped it around his back and hugged himself with the sleeves. The scent of Dave’s favorite aftershave filled his nostrils. My dear one, what will I ever do without you? He picked up the rose, stuck the stem through a buttonhole on his shirt and went into the kitchen. He took two glasses from the cupboard and pushed a button on the refrigerator door. Ice and green tea flavored with honey and ginseng poured into the glasses. He frowned at the glasses and set one on the table. I guess I only need one glass. His shoulders drooped and his feet shuffled as he walked to the living room. He felt much older than his seventy-six years. He set the glass on the table next to his favorite chair, sat and pushed a button on the arm of his chair. Across the room a huge screen nearly the size of the wall rose up and displayed a menu. He pushed another button and an old-fashioned photograph appeared on the screen. Memories flooded his mind.

 

A T Weaver actively participates in a charity walk every year, and this blog tour is in honour of all those in the walk and to raise funds for the walk and help AIDS charities.

http://www.aidswalkkansascity.org/ATWEAVER

 

 

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