Taylish Morgan hasn't told anyone he's gay. His dad is a preacher. His own life is centered around being a good cop, saving lives. When he meets Daniel, he learns that being a good cop sometimes means being a good man. This book contains Shadow of Wishes, Daniel Morgan's Christmas, Arrested Kisses, Cigarette Smoke, and a sneak peek at August and Anderson.
Excerpt
Excerpt from Daniel Morgan's Christmas:
I don't know why he doesn't like this holiday, but there are a lot of things I don't understand about this holiday, or even this whole country I've come to live in. The only thing I have to really compare things to, are video games and the culture of Royal's gang. I tell you, I was sheltered. But--I'm talking about Christmas today.
Royal's uncle, Francis, had been my guardian when I was a kid. We lived on a country estate and most of that period of my life is a big, gray blank. I don't remember, and no matter what my therapist thinks, that's a good thing. The first mention of Christmas I remember was in my World History class. Charlemagne was made Holy Roman Emperor on Christmas 1025. The Holy Roman Emperor. Yeah. Well, the world has changed a little since then and my stately ideas of what Christmas was all about went to hell in a hand basket.
The depression hit Taylish first, subtle, so quiet. He worked more hours, as if I'd even thought that was possible. His head tipped more when he was home. And sex. What does Christmas have to do with sex? It must have something because someone's developed an allergy to it. I hadn't thought that was possible either.
Peace has gone manic. He's out of the shelter every afternoon and singing... songs. Odd songs, about reindeer and some German saint. I hadn't thought Protestants went for saints. The shelter smells like pine and cinnamon and Karen keeps asking me what my favorite color is. That's right up there with, 'You don't look blind!' Duh. I don't have a favorite color anymore.
I have favorite textures. I like cashmere and velvet, and denim, marble and keyboards. Peace hung a sock on my office door. A sock! And not even the kind you can wear, some fake anime shaped sock. Karen says it's so that Santa Claus can put my treats in it. Really. I don't want anything from an old German saint, and nothing shoved in my socks while I'm sleeping. Really.
I don't understand the obsession with things. How do you get to be a saint by giving toys? I guess I just don't get it.
With Tay's sulking and Peace's mania, neither is as bad as Maya. Maya is spending. How I ended up with her on these shopping trips, I don't know. I promise you any place that offers shopping carts with engines that shoppers can ride around, any place that large, well, it has nothing to do with the great stately coronation of Charlemagne. An entire shopping center that sings manic songs about reindeer, it really makes me wonder where I've come to live.
Maya is a police officer and she was arguing with some other woman over a sweater that was on sale. I doubt the three dollars they were about to save was worth the energy they put into fighting. And when she realized I wasn't buying anything, that energy turned towards me. Well, yes, I do have money that's not from Taylish's bank account, thank you. It quickly escalated into an inquisition. I think... something is wrong with this holiday, so... I came up with an idea. Maybe Maya just seems worse because I'm stuck out here with her and I don't know how to make her calmer.
What this holiday needs is a party, a party that's like I imagine it should be. Christmas full of warmth and laughter and a promise that the darkness wouldn't last forever. I want a Christmas that is relaxed, with great food and a fire, and maybe I can imagine giving toys to little kids. Yeah, I can see that, toys for children, so they can play and laugh. It makes me want a toy to keep back the darkness, too. Can you imagine some cottage, with a warm fire, everyone tucked up inside away from a snowstorm?
Well, I'm told it doesn't snow in California. I'm waiting to see.
Martin Powers wanted an ironing board for Christmas. Instead, he got . . . Matthew Kieler, a non-returnable gift, but a gift that kept on giving. A powerful tale of survival, compassion and unapologetic love in the time of AIDS.
