Please say hello to A.M. Arthur and
Come What May
Jonas needs Tate. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Or at least, he doesn't want to admit it. Because there is no way Jonas Ashcroft is gay. He’s a straight, carefree frat boy player, just like any good son of a conservative state senator. If only his struggle to convince everyone—especially himself—didn’t leave him so miserable. No matter how many girls or bottles he drowns himself in, Jonas can neither escape nor accept who he is.
Enter Tate. He’s smart, confident, and instantly sees right through Jonas’s surly exterior. Sure, he’s done things in life he’s not proud of, but he knows who he is and what he wants. And what he wants is Jonas. As their easy friendship intensifies into something more, Tate introduces Jonas to a life he’s never known. One filled with acceptance and sex and a love that terrifies and excites them both.
But some inner demons refuse to be shaken off so easily. When Jonas’s old life barges in, he faces a shattering choice, one that could destroy everything he and Tate have fought so hard for. Sometimes love just isn’t enough—and sometimes it’s exactly what you need.
“It’s small,” Jonas said.
“Better than a cardboard box or foster care.” The sharpness in Tate’s voice echoed in his frown.
Jonas had never known anyone before who’d been in foster care, and saying so would probably make him the biggest douche on the planet. It also took the edge off some of his irritation over the total mindfuck that was Tate Dawson. “It’s way better than both of those things. You worked hard for this place, Tate. I haven’t worked hard for anything in my life.”
He blinked. “You do?”
“Yes, I do. I think you work very, very hard to convince yourself and the world that you’re something you’re not. I think you work very, very hard to be perfect when no one is, and the only thing anyone should ever do is just be her or himself. Be true to you, not to what others want from you.”
Jonas’s throat squeezed tight. “I can’t.”
Tate took a step closer, bringing a gentle waft of sweat and something sweet. “Why not?”
He saw the barest reflection of himself in Tate’s glasses and he didn’t like it. He stepped back. Tate snagged his wrist and held him there. The touch sent awareness buzzing across his skin, down his spine and straight to his balls. H needed to pull away before this got out of control.
And then his rebel brain decided it was a good idea to glance at Tate’s pink lips. Lips that Tate, the asshole, licked with slow swipes of his tongue.
Jonas yanked away his hand away so hard Tate stumbled. “I’m not gay, so you can get that ‘fuck the frat boy’ fantasy out of your head right now.”
Instead of being cowed, Tate planted both hands on his hips and said, “Who are you trying to convince? Because it’s just you and me in this room, and I’m not the one who brought up your sexuality. You did.”
Damn him. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
Tate’s gaze drifted over his face as he sought for words. “Because every time we’re together I can tell you’re struggling with something. You put up this lone wolf front to keep people at arm’s length so you don’t have to work so hard to pretend, but it’s exhausting you. Jonas, you can be yourself with me. Whoever that is.”
“I can’t.” Talking was getting harder around the lump in his throat. His heart was kicking too fast and his chest ached.
“Look me in the eye.” Tate closed the three strides between them, then curled a warm hand around the back of Jonas’s neck. “Look me in the eye and say you don’t want to kiss me right now.”
Get the book:
Hi A.M. Thanks for joining us today. Please ask your characters to tell us about a typical day in their life.
Tate: So, hopefully you’ve read our book, Come What May, before reading this little interview, or you’re going to be kind of spoiled.
Jonas: It’s a romance novel, though, right? They kind of know we get together in the end.
Tate: Still. Spoilers!
Jonas: Fine, okay, spoilers ahead.
Tate: So our schedules are really weird, because of the hours I work at All Saints House, the homeless shelter that I co-direct with my best friend Marc, and another great guy named Dave. Sometimes I only go in for a few hours at night to do intake, sometimes I stay the whole night.
Jonas: Those are the worst for me, because the bed’s empty.
Tate: Hey, I come home to an empty bed, too, buster.
Jonas: Well, yeah, because I’m working daytime hours. I’m a temp assistant for a lady who works with nonprofits. We set up fundraisers, raise community awareness, all kinds of things. I really love it. I feel like I’m doing something useful with my life. So with my nine-to-five, and with Tate’s weird hours, we see the most of each other on weekends.
Tate: Yes, weekends are definitely when we have the most sex.
Jonas: Did you really have to say that?
Tate: They asked for a typical day. In a typical day, we may sneak in a blow job or something, but full-on, bed-breaking sex? Weekends.
Jonas: *hides face in hands*
Tate: What did I say?
Thanks. We think. Also, hahahahahaha!
Meet the author:
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur's work is available from Samhain Publishing, Carina Press, Dreamspinner Press, and SMP Swerve.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
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