A warm welcome to author Jamie Fessenden joining us to share an exclusive excerpt of his new release “Small Town Sonata”.
Welcome Jamie 🙂
They walked down Birch Street in the opposite direction from town. Here, the houses thinned out until they were walking by open fields, small copses of birch trees, and stands of hemlock. As they neared the river, the road curved to the right, but they continued straight, walking into an overgrown field.
“I was afraid someone had built a condo or something here,” Aiden said.
Dean spread his arms wide to take in the field and the stretch of woods that followed the riverbank. “Nope. Old Man Peterson is still alive, believe it or not.”
“Jesus! He was ancient when we were kids.”
“He’s in his nineties now,” Dean said. “But he’s still sharp as a tack. And he refuses to sell this land. He wants it to go to his grandkids, when they’re old enough.”
The woods were mostly small trees like chokecherry, quaking aspen, and more of the ubiquitous white and golden birch found in northern New Hampshire, so there weren’t many trees more than thirty or forty feet high. The trunks were seldom more than a handsbreadth in diameter, if that. But there was plenty of cover near the river, with just a couple of walking paths through the undergrowth. It was a wonderfully isolated location for two teenagers looking for a place to make out.
When they reached the riverbank, Aiden exclaimed in delight, “The rope swing!”
One of the few really large trees along the bank—an oak—had a low-hanging branch that extended out over a moderately shallow, slow-moving part of the river. Long before Dean and Aiden’s time, somebody had tied a thick, knotted rope to the branch for people to swing out and drop into the water.
“I replaced it a few years ago,” Dean said. “It snapped and Kyle Davis nearly killed himself falling into the water headfirst.”
“Jesus!”
“Yeah… well, he didn’t. He just pulled some muscles twisting around in the air and sucked in some water. Fortunately, his friends were here to pull him out, and he was fine. But I replaced that old ratty rope with a heavy-duty, braided polypropylene one. That should hold a while.”
Aiden unhooked the bottom of the rope from the crotch of a smaller branch—the same place it had always been hooked when not in use. He looked out across the river, which shimmered in the fading light. In the center of it sat the tree-covered, uninhabited Buck Island, and beyond that, the opposite shore appeared to be nothing but forest in all directions. Berlin was somewhere to the north, but its lights were too distant to be seen.
“Remember the day we did this naked?” Aiden asked, giving him a coquettish look.
“I remember.” The spot was just isolated enough to make a little bit of skinny-dipping possible. Though it was still risky. Plenty of kids in the neighborhood swam there on hot summer days. Dean flapped one hand like the wing of a wounded bird. “I remember Little Aiden flopping around between your legs.”
Aiden laughed. “It’s not that little.”
“No,” Dean agreed, feeling a bit warm as more details of the memory came back to him. “No, it’s not.” God, that had been sexy as hell. It had been the first time they’d seen each other naked. They hadn’t done anything—it was all still new and exciting and a little scary—but the sight of Aiden’s ass and… everything… had fueled Dean’s masturbation fantasies for the rest of high school.
“Catch me!” Aiden said.
Then, to Dean’s surprise, he swung out over the water. Fortunately, since he was wearing clothes and shoes that wouldn’t be easy to swim in, he wasn’t dumb enough to drop off. But he hooted in delight. On his return swing, Dean reached out and snagged him by the belt. Dean staggered a moment, almost toppling forward and sending them both into the water. Then he managed to pull Aiden close.
Aiden dropped down and fell against his front. He was laughing, one hand still clutching the rope, the other hooking itself over Dean’s shoulder for support. Dean released his belt and grabbed Aiden’s waist in a bear hug. Then he tilted his face up, and somehow their mouths came together. The kiss was long and hard, their tongues intertwining, and their breath flowing warm and sensual from one mouth to the other. Dean felt Aiden’s hardness pressing against him, and he lifted his thigh up between Aiden’s legs.
Blurb:
Can the trusted town handyman rebuild a broken pianist’s heart?
When a freak accident ends Aiden’s career as a world-renowned classical pianist, he retreats to his New Hampshire hometown, where he finds the boy he liked growing up is even more appealing as a man.
Dean Cooper’s life as handyman to the people of Springhaven might not be glamorous, but he’s well-liked and happy. When Aiden drifts back into town, Dean is surprised to find the bond between them as strong as ever. But Aiden is distraught over the loss of his career and determined to get back on the international stage.
Seventeen years ago Dean made a sacrifice and let Aiden walk away. Now, with their romance rekindling, he knows he’ll have to make the sacrifice all over again. This time it may be more than he can bear.
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Jamie Fessenden is an author of gay fiction in many genres. Most involve romance, because he believes everyone deserves to find love, but after that anything goes: contemporary, science fiction, historical, paranormal, mystery, or whatever else strikes his fancy.
He set out to be a writer in junior high school. He published a couple short pieces in his high school’s literary magazine and had another story place in the top 100 in a national contest, but it wasn’t until he met his partner, Erich, almost twenty years later, that he began writing again in earnest. With Erich alternately inspiring and goading him, Jamie wrote several novels and published his first novella in 2010. That same year, Jamie and Erich married and purchased a house together in the wilds of New Hampshire, where there are no street lights, turkeys and deer wander through their yard, and coyotes serenade them under the stars.
Blog: https://jamiefessenden.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/349365308959423/