Today we are happy to welcome Eli Easton to our blog. Eli stops by to share an Exclusive Excerpt on her new release
“A Second Harvest”.
Welcome Eli 🙂
A Second Harvest
(Men of Lancaster County #1)
by Eli Easton
David Fisher has lived by the rules all his life. Born to a Mennonite family, he obeyed his father and took over the family farm, married, and had two children. Now with both his kids in college and his wife deceased, he runs his farm alone and without joy, counting off the days of a life half-lived.
Christie Landon, graphic designer, Manhattanite, and fierce gay party boy, needs a change. Now thirty, he figures it’s time to grow up and think about his future. When his best friend overdoses, Christie resolves to take a break from the city. He heads to a small house in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to rest, recoup, and reflect.
But life in the country is boring despite glimpses of the hunky silver fox next door. When Christie’s creativity latches on to cooking, he decides to approach his widower neighbor with a plan to share meals and grocery expenses. David agrees, and soon the odd couple finds they really enjoy spending time together.
Christie challenges the boundaries of David’s closed world and brings out feelings he buried long ago. If he can break free of the past, he might find a second chance at happiness.
“I can help clean up,” David said nervously. He started to pick up his plate, but Christie grabbed his wrist, keeping him from getting up.
“You can talk to me, David,” Christie said quietly.
You’re one of the only people I’ve ever been able to talk to. Even so David wasn’t sure he could talk about being gay. Not yet. He had to figure things out on his own first. He felt like he should make something clear. “I know…,” he started haltingly. “I don’t expect…. I know I’m way too old for you. But I very much appreciate being your friend.”
Christie stared at him, his pupils large and black. He softened his grip and moved his thumb, just once, along David’s wrist. “I keep telling you forty-one is not old. And I find you seriously hot. You have no idea.”
“Hot.” Christie nodded adamantly. “You’d be dishy anywhere, even in New York.”
David pulled his hand away so he could run it though his hair, nervously. “Thanks. I…. Hmmm.” He didn’t believe that, but it he was grateful if Christie really thought so.
He got up and started clearing the table.
They worked together to take all the dishes over to the sink. They had to walk in and out of the large sand flat Christie made, and it was weird for his feet to go from sand to linoleum and back again. It felt like his life, actually. Being with Christie was like stepping into the sand—exotic, interesting, almost a fantasy. Then the linoleum came, the everyday, ordinary, inescapable reality of his life that underlay it all.
Walking between the two was damned messy.
“I’ll do the dishes later,” Christie said when the table was clear.
“I can help.”
“No, really. I’m so not in the mood to do them right now.”
Christie’s voice was warm and low. It made those eddies stir up again in David’s stomach and groin. “Okay.”
He stood in the kitchen with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. “Thank you for going to all this trouble. The meal was delicious too. I’ll never forget it.”
“It was my pleasure.”
With a determined look, Christie linked his arm through David’s and walked him toward the door. When they got there, Christie took David’s coat from the rack and held it out for him, much like David did for Christie all those weeks ago. David let himself be helped into it. Christie seemed anxious to get rid of him, which stung a little. But the meal was over, after all, and maybe they could both use some space after what they’d talked about.
Christie tugged the sides of David’s coat closed, his mouth set in a firm line. He was so close. “There’s something I want to say.”
David took a shaky breath. “Go ahead.”
Christie raised his eyes to look at him. They were unusually dark and deep, almost the turquoise of the sea in Bora Bora. “I like you, David. A lot. I don’t want to lose our friendship, no matter what. I know this is complicated for you. I get it. But if you want more, I would like that. I would really, really like that.”
He closed the distance between them, slid both arms up around David’s neck, and kissed him.
David’s eyes slid shut and his knees went weak. He couldn’t summon an ounce of resistance. His hands slipped around Christie as if they knew what to do. His mind blanked out and he let it. Just this once he wanted to feel without questions or self-recrimination. This time the kiss wasn’t a shock, and he was very aware he was kissing a man. He reveled in the texture of Christie’s lips and was more than ready to open for Christie’s tongue. David savored the taste of coconut and spice, man and sin. He kissed back with everything he had, drawing hungrily on Christie’s tongue and tilting his head to seal them together more tightly.
Lord, it felt so sexy. Kissing Christie was as good as his food, as surprising as his conversation, as luminous as his eyes. Want pushed through David with the suddenness and strength of a heart attack. Oh. Oh Lord. He never imagined he would feel lust like this, powerful and raw and bound up somehow with love and admiration and hope. Had he ever felt anything so good with another person in his arms? No, never.
If this was wrong, David would go to hell gladly because nothing ever fed his soul like this. He almost sobbed at the thought of how long he’d denied himself this pleasure.
Christie pulled back, breaking the kiss and staring at him, breathing hard. “Right. I thought that might be pretty damn tempting. I…. We should take this slowly. I think?” He sounded doubtful.
“Yes,” David agreed. He didn’t want to take things slowly. He wanted all of Christie now. But another few breaths brought a clearer head and waves of nervousness and even a little guilt. Christie was right. He didn’t want to blunder into this and regret it in the morning—or have Christie regret it. He still had to come to terms with acting on his desires in the flesh with the idea that he wouldn’t be taking advantage of Christie—or vice versa. David reluctantly let go, his arms falling to his sides.
Christie gave a rueful smile. “Text me when you want to do dinner again. Okay?”
“I could pick up food tomorrow. Italian?” David offered. He didn’t want Christie to feel like he had to cook all the time, but he didn’t want to skip seeing him either.
Christie thought about it, then nodded. “That sounds good.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” With a wistful look, Christie opened the door, and David walked through it.
As he walked down the dark lane back to his house through the crusty remains of the last snowfall, David wanted to shout for joy. He wanted to store this moment, and this feeling, in a bottle like a magic tonic. He wanted to spin like a child and praise a god who probably wasn’t all that thrilled with the development.
This. Somehow this incredible thing had come into his life when he’d given up hoping for anything exciting to ever happen again. And he couldn’t find it in himself to be even the least bit sorry.
About The Author
Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, an organic farmer and a profound sleeper, Eli is happily embarking on yet another incarnation as a m/m romance author.
As an avid reader of such, she is tinkled pink when an author manages to combine literary merit, vast stores of humor, melting hotness and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, three bulldogs, three cows and six chickens. All of them (except for the husband) are female, hence explaining the naked men that have taken up residence in her latest fiction writing.
You can find Eli at