Tono the sequel to Loving Edits is now available at Dreamspinner Press in either e-book or paperback format. You can find the link on my sidebar.
Here’s a short excerpt for your entertainment.
Paul picked up the mug and grimaced when he tasted the cold liquid. “Yuck.” He nuked it for about a minute, and when he turned back toward the counter, he saw that Tono was staring. The warmed coffee was good, but the tender look in Tono’s eye even better. Paul sighed in satisfaction.
“¿Esta bueno?” Tono asked.
“Yes, it’s perfect,” Paul said, not really referring to the coffee. He was basking in the look of love that was radiating from the Spaniard. “Tono, there’s been a new development, I’m not sure you’re aware of.”
“Is this why you’ve been trying to reach me?”
“What is it?”
“Mick wrote another novel I knew nothing about.”
“Si. I was aware that he was writing another story.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”
“I never meddled in his writing. I read his manuscripts if and when he asked for my opinion. He never asked me to read this one. In fact, I didn’t realize he’d completed it.”
“Well, he did finish it, and he’s left me specific instructions.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Paul explained,trying to rein in his impatience “is that he has certain stipulations we both have to agree with”
“Yes. That’s what I said before I read the manuscript. It’s brilliant.”
“He was so talented,” Tono said proudly.
“That’s a given, Tono. Nonetheless, you may have issues with this book.”
“It’s a romance, a gay romance about three men in a relationship.”
“You heard me.”
“He wrote our story?” Tono’s voice rose in disbelief.
“He’s changed our names, the setting is completely different, and he’s made us years younger, so no one will link us to this novel.”
“Are you sure? I have to read it.”
“I figured you would, so I brought a copy of the manuscript. After you read it, I’ll need your signature on the contract, and then we can get started. This book will be huge.”
“Why do you need my signature?”
Paul sighed, now losing all patience. “Because you were his partner, you have his power of attorney, and nothing can move forward without your approval.”
“Look, he wrote you a letter. Let me go and get it.”
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know,” Paul blustered, “it’s addressed to you.”
“Oh, I thought you may have read it.”
“Give me some credit, will you? I don’t open letters unless they’re mine. Besides, I already know what he wants.”
“All proceeds from the book sales will go into a fund for artists suffering from ALS; a foundation, bearing his name, headed by you.”
“What? I don’t know anything about this.”
“Apparently no one did but our darling, Mick.”
“That’s impossible. He would have told me.”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe he ran out of time.”
“I don’t want to head anything. What do I know about foundations?”
“About as much as I do, which is nothing,” Paul admitted. “We’ll find qualified people to help us.”
“Mick had his reasons, but unfortunately, he neglected to share them. Where were you when he was making all these plans? How could you not be aware of what he was doing?”
“He didn’t tell me,” Tono snarled, pissed off by Paul’s allegation that he knew nothing about Mick. “And what about you? You’re his fucking publisher. How come you didn’t know?”
“I don’t know, and now I never will. Nonetheless, here’s the bottom line: we’re sitting on Mick’s last novel, fighting over trivia, when we should be moving forward. Why don’t you just sign the papers, and we’ll get this over with.”
“I won’t sign anything until I’ve read my letter and the manuscript.”
“Christ. How long will it take you?”
“Oh, am I on the clock again? I’d forgotten what a time whore you are.”
Tono chuckled. “You know you’re anal about time. Now where’s that letter?”
Paul sighed. “I’ll go and get it.” He had to fish it out of his briefcase, which he found on the sofa in the living room where he’d left it last night. When he got back to the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Tono had thrown on some running shorts, a T-shirt, and his athletic shoes.
“I’m going running, rubio.” Tono took the letter from Paul’s outstretched hand, folded it in half, and stuck it in his back pocket. “Make yourself at home.”
Paul stared in disbelief. “Hey, wait a minute.”
“I’ll be back,” Tono smiled and walked out the door, leaving a sputtering Paul standing in the middle of the kitchen. Regardless of the circumstances, his blondie was back, which made Tono ridiculously happy