Eli Easton on A Second Harvest ~ Exclusive Excerpt Rafflecopter Giveaway

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Title: A Second Harvest
Author: Eli Easton
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Bree Archer
Genre: Contemporary
Release Date: 07/01/2016


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. He married, had two children, and goes to church every Sunday. Now with his kids both 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 that he’s thirty years old, 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 and get his life back in order. His aunt left him a small house in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and he heads there to rest, recoup, and reflect.

But life in the country is boring, despite glimpses of the hunky silver fox next door. When Christie’s exuberant creativity latches on to cooking, and he started gourmet-ing up a storm, he decides to approach his widower neighbor with a plan to share meals and grocery expenses. David agrees, and soon the odd-couple find they enjoy spending time together. A lot.

Christie challenges all the boundaries of David’s closed world and brings out feelings he’d buried long ago. Can he find the courage to break free of the past and take a second chance at happiness?


Christie had hoped taking David out of his environment might grease the wheels on their relationship, ease whatever clog was preventing David from acting on their mutually admitted attraction. But he was still surprised to be quite so right.

Not only was David enthusiastic company on their trip to Philly, but he was attentive. Like, boyfriend attentive. Once he worked up the nerve to take Christie’s hand, there was rarely a moment for the rest of the day when he wasn’t touching Christie somewhere—placing gentle fingers on the small of Christie’s back as they went through a door, resting a hand on his arm, or standing close enough to brush against each other if they weren’t actually holding hands. At the restaurant he pressed his thigh into Christie’s the whole meal.

Christie thought a trip to the city might help David move forward, but what he didn’t reckon on was it would make him move forward too, or rather, make him fall another devastating dozen feet on his own slack line above the abyss.

It was one thing to imagine being with David on the farm. That had the tinge of pure fantasy. It was another to be out with David in a real city with David all handsome and glowing and interesting and treating him like he was something beautiful and fascinating. How the hell was he supposed to handle that? To not want that forever?

The mood was somber when they got on the train to go home. Their relationship had become a lot more real in just the past few hours. They stayed longer than Christie had planned, and it was four by the time they got on the train. The car they were in was almost deserted, and the sun set not long into the ride. That left them in a compartment with only dim running lights and not a soul visible from their seats.

They sat side by side, silent in a contented way. David had his hands in his coat pockets. But when Christie leaned against his shoulder, he shifted to put his arm around Christie and pull him close. They were nearly the same height while seated, and Christie laid his head on David’s shoulder. And then he couldn’t resist the temptation to tilt up his chin and nose along the ruddy skin of David’s neck. He smelled like the crisp winter air of the city, with earthy, salty base notes. Christie took a little taste with a soft, openmouthed kiss, skimming his tongue over the barest trace of stubble on David’s neck.

In an instant the mood shifted. What was relaxed and contented, introspective, and even a little weary flared into molten heat. David tensed, his breath hitching. He titled his head to the side, inviting Christie’s exploration. What could he do but oblige?

He let his lips travel up and down the corded muscle. His eyelashes brushed David’s jawline and the tip of his tongue made a wet trail that raised gooseflesh. He brushed aside the collar of David’s shirt and sucked just above his collarbone, rhythmically.

David made a low noise and pulled Christie tighter to his neck with the hand that was wrapped around his shoulder. He shifted his hips restlessly in his seat. Christie managed a glance down and saw a magnificent bulge visible under the denim.

Oh God. Christie was filled with suffocating desire. Tingles of heat washed from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, which he curled in his shoes.

Now, his body demanded. Want you right now.

He placed his hand on David’s jaw to urge his chin down and met David’s lips.

This kiss wasn’t hard and tight like their first kiss at the table, or tentatively passionate like their second kiss at the door. No, this was all lush, sensual greed, laving tongues and hitched breath. It was heaven. David pulled him tighter so they were practically chest to chest, his tongue perfectly slick and urgent in Christie’s mouth. Christie put a hand on David’s thigh, squeezed, and let it drift higher. He wanted to feel David so badly he thought he might die.

He’d just brushed the warm, rigid bulge with the palm of his hand when David hissed and pulled away from the kiss. He grabbed Christie’s hand. Which, fair enough, Christie hadn’t been about to stop touching.

“We’re on the train,” David whispered in a wrecked voice, as if Christie had somehow forgotten.

Christie chuckled. “You don’t say. You know they have really big bathrooms on these Amtraks.”

He reached out his fingers again for nirvana, but David held his wrist and moved over to the far side of his seat. His expression was fierce. “I want you in a bed, Christie Landon. This is important to me.”

Part of his insistence, Christie knew, was a plea for mercy. Because if Christie pushed, tempted, touched, he could have David, right there on the train. And God, Christie wanted that. But it would be incredibly selfish.

It was not only their first time, he reminded himself, but David’s first time with a man, or with anyone other than his late wife. And he deserved all the care, attention to detail, and romance Christie could bring to it. Or at least a damned bed.

Christie took a few breaths, trying to fight his urge for here, now, more, and drew away his hands. He sat back in his seat and looked at the ceiling. “You’re going to kill me. Literally. I have no blood left in my brain. Possibly the opposite of a stroke could happen. Would that be fainting? Yes, I might faint.”

“We’ll be home soon. You can’t possibly want this more than I do.”

Christie turned his head to argue the point, but then he took a good look at David. He was staring out the window at the dark, arms folded hard over his chest, and there was a sheen of dampness on his brow. He was flushed and tense and looked like a loud noise would have him plastered on the ceiling.

Yeah, he was dying for it too.

Christie stood up. “Right. I’m going to go get us both a cup of coffee in the café car because I want you wide, wide awake later. Possibly all night.” With a smirk he moved down the aisle. They both could use a little space.


A Second Harvest on Goodreads
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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.

Her website is www.elieaston.com

You can email her at eli@elieaston.com

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