A Family For Christmas

by A. T. Weaver

A Family for Christmas - A.T. Weaver
Editions:Paperback: $ 9.99
ISBN: 978-1518667169
Size: 6.00 x 9.00 in
Pages: 160
Kindle: $ 2.99
Pages: 112

Tom is 23 and has been disowned by his father. Ken is 48, and after losing his partner of twenty-five years two years ago, is starting to think about finding someone to spend the rest of his life with.

When they meet, each worries about the age difference. They first become friends, and over time, they find their common interests overshadow the age problem. Tom moves in with Ken and over Christmas learns what a loving family means.

This book is on:
  • 2 To Be Read lists
Publisher: Independently Published
Cover Artists:
Pairings: MM
Heat Level: 2
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 46-65
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, May/December, Age Difference
Word Count: 26800
Setting: Kansas City, MO USA
Languages Available: English

The next weekend after the movie marathon, everyone except Tom had left. He walked over to the coffee table, stacked five plates on top of each other, and started toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Ken asked. He strolled over, took the plates, and set them back on the table.

“I thought I’d help clean up a bit before I left,” Tom said. I’m taking a chance. That’s what I’m doing. “That way you won’t have so much to do in the morning.”

“It’s already morning.” Ken placed his hand on the side of Tom’s face.

Tom looked at him. “What?” Butterflies erupted in his stomach.

Ken pulled his face closer and kissed him.

Tom put his arms around Ken’s waist and returned the kiss. He pulled back and fingered the highest fastened button of Ken’s shirt.

“What are you doing?” Ken asked. He nuzzled Tom’s neck.


“Something I’ve wanted to do since the first morning I woke up on your couch.” He unbuttoned another button.

“Careful. You could get into trouble doing that.”

Tom continued opening the buttons until he got to the bottom. He spread the shirt open, nuzzled his face in the soft hair of Ken’s chest, and breathed in the musky smell. “Just like I thought. Soft and silky.” He took another deep breath. “You not only feel good, you smell good.”

Ken took Tom’s chin in his hand, lifted, and claimed Tom’s mouth with his.

Tom placed his palms against Ken’s chest and softly kneaded it like a kitten kneads its mother’s belly while nursing.

When they finally separated, Ken said, “Tommy, you can leave now or in the morning.”

“Morning, please,” Tom said.

Ken took the bottom of Tom’s t-shirt, lifted it over his head, and pulled him close until their bare chests meshed.

Tom lifted his mouth for Ken’s kiss. Their tongues played with each other. He lifted one leg, wrapped it around Ken, and brought their groins together.

Ken moaned and pulled away. He took Tom’s hand and headed upstairs.

Reviews:Jan on https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01804FTMQ wrote:

A May/December couple meet and become friends. They are wary about making it more serious because of the age difference but decide to take a chance. A sweet story set in the holiday season that I enjoyed very much.

Jeffery M Brown on https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01804FTMQ wrote:

It was a quick and fun book to read for the Christmas season.

About the Author

My real name is Julia Flowers. I am a 70+ year-old great-grandmother and live with my two cats, Cleopatra (who is 15 years old) and Kiyah the devil cat (who is not quite 2), in downtown Kansas City, MO. I either tell people I live next door to the church with the gold dome, or I live at the northwest corner of Bartle Hall. I have four children, nine blood grandkids, two extra, and one great-grandson.

Two questions I am often asked are:

1. Why a pen name and where did it come from?

When I began writing at the age of 60, I didn’t want my kids to be embarrassed by their friends knowing their mother wrote gay fiction, so I decided to make up a pen name. When I got my first computer and set up an email account I had a hard time finding a username that wasn’t already taken. I’d been a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism for several years, and my SCA name is Alisaundre Muir, and I dye, spin, and weave wool. Alix is a nickname for Alisaundre and I came up with alixtheweaver. Thinking about a pen name, I thought, ‘Weaver is a good last name’, and so I became A(for Alix) T(for the) Weaver.

2. Why would a straight great-grandmother write gay fiction?

When I was growing up, the word gay meant happy and carefree and homosexuals were called queer or ‘one-of-those’. However, I never heard those terms or knew what they meant until I was married and a mother. When two men moved in down the street from us in St. Charles, MO, I didn’t think anything about it until my then husband told me they were ‘queers’. I didn’t know what he meant.
Later on, after moving back to Kansas City in the late 1960s, two men moved across the street from us. Again, I thought nothing about it. One was an actor, and we went to several of his plays. I was later to learn that one of them was the driving force behind the gay movement in Kansas City. Of course, at the time I knew nothing at all about the LGBT Community.

In 2003, there was a TV show on Bravo called Boy Meets Boy. Having watched The Bachelor and Bachelorette and being totally disgusted, I decided it couldn’t be any worse and watched. In the middle of the show, one of the ‘contestants’ set up a Yahoo group for fans and I joined. I have to admit, my record with guessing who was gay and who was straight wasn’t all that good.

At the peak, there were over 3,000 members of the group. After the show as over, several of us continued to ‘talk’ daily. These men educated me as to the inequalities suffered by the LGBT community, and started me reading gay literature and watching movies. On a trip to see my mother in Turlock, CA, I visited one of the men in San Francisco who lived just up the street from the Castro. As he showed me around, we stopped in front of what was once Harvey Milk’s camera store. My question, “Who was Harvey Milk?” started my education into Gay history. When I mentioned I’d like to try writing. His response was, “I’d like to read a book where the boy gets the boy and they ride off into the sunset together.” I said, “I can do that.” This was in 2003 – before Brokeback Mountain, and before the advent of gay erotica.

I was unable to find a publisher who would even read my story and paid $500 to have it published. Since then, I use self-publishing. My first few books were mildly erotic, but since, I have chosen to put the sex behind the bedroom door.

I’ll never make even a little money, but if I can move you in some way, whether you laugh or cry, love it or hate it, I’ve accomplished what I aim for.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. Cyril Connolly (1903 - 1974)

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