Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Blogtour: A Second Harvest by Eli Easton



A Second Harvest 
(Men of Lancaster County #1)
by Eli Easton



Blurb:

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.





         




Available in Paperback



Excerpt




The first time David came over to run with Christie, it was early November. They did an easy-paced five miles at eight in the morning, which was early for Christie, but apparently David had already done a bunch of chores by then.
Christie took David along his usual route. It went around some neighborhoods and along the backside of the town’s quaint main street. Christie wore compression tights and an Old Navy thermal half-zip, but David’s sweats were the old-fashioned kind—like something Sylvester Stallone wore in Rocky. He looked good in them, though. Manly. He had sexy narrow hips with a small belly. The sweatpants hung just right off those hip bones and over his round ass. Not that Christie was staring. Much.
They didn’t talk a whole lot. Christie got the feeling David was focusing on his gait and breathing, so he didn’t want to distract him. He was a good runner, not fast, but steady and solid. The few times he started to breathe too hard, Christie slowed down.
They got back to Christie’s place in just over an hour.
David was wearing at least two layers under his sweatshirt, but his front and back both had a deep V of sweat, and he panted, head hanging over his knees, in Christie’s front yard.
“This is… I should….”
Christie bent one leg up behind his back to stretch it. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
David nodded, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch his breath. “Cut your grass. Needs it.”
Christie laughed. “Stop judging my pathetically long grass. You’ll make me self-conscious.”
David gave him a disbelieving look, as if to say, You made me dress like this and run with you, and you feel self-conscious?
Christie rolled his eyes. “You did good, old man. Ran like a pro. Come in while I make a pot of coffee.” Christie led the way inside and headed right for the sink. He poured them both a glass of cold water and handed one to David before he went to the coffee machine. Water after a run was necessary, but coffee was what he craved. “I haven’t been able to get Aunt Ruth’s mower to run. It’s ancient, and apparently they no longer make the arrowheads or stone gears or whatever that it needs.”
David drank his water down in one long, mesmerizing draught. He wiped his lips on his sleeve. “I’ll come over with my rider mower and do it. It’ll take no more than a half hour.”
“You don’t have to do that. You already fixed the windows in my kitchen and my showerhead.”
“Gotta pay you back somehow for all the meals.”
“You do pay me.”
“Money. You’ve also earned the milk of human kindness.”
David’s eyes twinkled with humor. Christie smiled and turned away, trying to banish the lingering image of David’s throat as he drank the water. He fussed with the coffee pot. David was joking around more lately, and that was a good sign. He was so serious and solemn when they met, maybe even depressed.
My father was not a happy man. Maybe depression ran in the Fisher family. Only David didn’t seem depressed now.
Christie started the coffee dripping. “You just feel sorry for me because I don’t know how to do anything.”
“You know how to do lots of things, just not stuff that requires a screwdriver.”
“Mmm.” Christie turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter.
The coffee percolated with pops and hisses. David stood there in the kitchen in that gray sweatshirt, all sweaty and rosy -cheeked from the cold. His brown eyes were warm and his lips quirked in a smile. His close-clipped beard gave him a scruffy vibe, and his hair had gotten a little longer at the nape and curled against his ruddy neck, damp with sweat.
And suddenly Christie wanted him so badly it ached. He wanted to take a step forward and touch David, wanted to press up against that hot, sweaty body, feel the hungry slick of his lips. The pain of frustrated longing was sharp. His body reacted to the rush of lust in other ways as well. He turned back to the cupboard and started opening up doors randomly, as if looking for cups. Dear Lord, he so did not need an erection in these spandex tights.
Behind him he heard a chair pull out from the table. David had backed off. Thank God. Christie pulled out two mugs, his hands numb from the sudden evacuation of blood to parts south.
“Hey, mind if I grab the coffee to go? I need to get back for the dairy pickup.”
“Sure.” Christie pulled out a travel mug. By the time he’d filled it and put in a dollop of milk the way David preferred, he had his body under control. He turned and offered it, his face carefully blank.
“See you at six?” David asked. He was avoiding Christie’s eyes, though. Had he guessed?
“Sure. I was going to do shrimp and grits, New Orleans style.”
“Can’t wait.” David gave him a brief glance and a smile and was out the door.

Once he was gone, Christie banged his head against the fridge. God, he was way too young to be this horny and frustrated with no relief in sight. But he wasn’t sure he had a solution—at least nothing but a long shower and his good right hand.





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 

         




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2 comments:

  1. Really looking forward to read this new series and that cover is simply gorgeous!
    Thank you for the chance.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love Eli's books, so I'm eager to read this!

    --Trix

    ReplyDelete

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