The Boss’s Son

by A. T. Weaver

The Boss's Son - A.T. Weaver
Editions:Paperback: $ 16.99
ISBN: 978-1482368017
Size: 6.00 x 9.00 in
Pages: 176
Kindle: $ 2.99
Pages: 183

After coming out to his family, friends and classmates, the only thing Danny wants is what everyone wants. Someone to love. Someone to spend the rest of his life with. Then he meets Mike who fits the image of the man of his dreams. But Mike has a problem

Mike’s been alone since his partner committed suicide two years ago. He’s always heard the old adage ‘marry the boss’s daughter to get ahead’. There’s a big problem. How does he tell his boss that not only is he gay, but he just spent the night with the boss’s eighteen-year-old son?

This book is on:
  • 1 To Be Read list
Publisher: Independently Published
Cover Artists:
Pairings: MM
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: May/December, Age Difference, Coming Out / Closeted, Coming of Age
Word Count: 39800
Setting: Kansas City, MO USA
Languages Available: English

Things came to a head a few days later in the locker room after practice. Kyle Johnson showered and started back to his locker with a towel wrapped around his waist. As he walked past Ralph Davis, the goalie reached out and pulled off the towel.

Ralph pointed at Kyle’s privates and smirked, “Hey, look guys, he does have a dick. He is a boy after all. You can’t tell when he has his clothes on.”

Kyle grabbed for his towel. “Leave me alone, Davis.”

Ralph held the towel over his head out of Kyle’s reach, “The way he acts and dresses, he must be a faggot. I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I don’t want to share a shower room with a faggot.”

A couple of the others nodded their heads. Danny’s eyes met those of Coach Simms in a mirror behind the row of lockers.

Kyle blinked as he held back tears. He ignored the comment, straightened his shoulders, walked to his locker and started to dress.


Danny walked up behind Ralph, grabbed the towel out of his hand and tossed it to Kyle, “Leave him alone, Davis.”

“What?” Ralph asked incredibly. “You sticking up for this fag? Maybe you don’t mind having him on the team, but I don’t want to be on a team with a faggot.”

Danny shook his head and calmly said, “I wish you wouldn’t use that word. It’s very degrading. I mean, you wouldn’t call Jack or Leon the ‘n’ word, would you?”

“What? Faggot? It’s what he is, and like I said, I don’t want to be on the same team with a faggot.”

Danny’s usual easy-going attitude snapped. He knew it was time to stand up and be counted. He drew back his fist, and before Ralph knew what happened, Danny punched him in the nose. Blood spurted everywhere.

“You broke my frigging nose,” Ralph screamed as he grabbed a towel and held it to his nose.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Gary, one of Ralph’s buddies, start toward him.

Jack stepped in front of Gary and blocked him. “Way to go, Danny,” he cheered.

Danny said, “I told you not to use that word. Also, I want to know what your problem is. You’ve played on the same team and shared a shower room with a faggot for the last three years, and it hasn’t bothered you.”

“What do you mean?” It was hard to understand Ralph through the towel.

Danny looked directly into his face and accented every word. “I mean I’m gay. That’s what I mean. Want to make something of it?”

“You’re not gay.” Ralph said unbelievingly.

Jack laughed. “You mean you didn’t know? Wow, you’re dumber than you look. Come on, Danny. Let’s get out of here. You coming, Kyle?”

Kyle grinned as he tied his sneakers and grabbed his t-shirt, “Right behind ya.”

Reviews:AA on Amazon wrote:

I liked this book. It was a very sweet story, probably because I identified with Danny a lot. I made my decision to come out after reading this book.

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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