Charlie’s cut himself off from the pleasures of life. After all, he was a drug addict who killed his brother and doesn’t deserve them. He also believes he should have never gotten out of prison, but he did, and now every day he struggles to do penance for his crime, and working at a shelter for homeless men in Katrina-ravaged New Orleans is his way of doing it. Devon is mysterious, dark, and dangerous. Especially to Charlie. Devon’s refusal to speak about what he does, his comings and goings at night, all lead Charlie to one conclusion—Devon’s a drug dealer. And for a recovering cocaine addict, a dealer is the last thing he needs in his life, because the need for the white powder is always there. But so is the physical and emotional need Charlie feels for Devon. Charlie fights his attraction, but he know he’s in a losing battle. He’s always been a sucker for a bad ass, and to him, Devon looks to be the baddest of them all. Can Charlie keep his internal pledge to pay for his crime, or will Devon destroy everything Charlie’s worked so hard to build? Or will giving in to Devon be the freedom Charlie’s secretly prayed for?
Author
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. (1)gay romance I’m from New Orleans, that’s N’awlins for those of you who speak the language. I grew up in the Riverbend, or Carrollton, for the old timers, but was a Quarter rat from the age of 11, taking 3 buses to go to art class on Burgundy Street at the Cabrini Doll Museum and NORD center. I attended University of New Orleans and have a BA in Fine Art. My mother worked at Tulane University, six blocks from our house and when we were kids my brother and I parked cars in our driveway for the Saints games at Tulane Stadium. We could get six cars down the drive, two on the front lawn, and two on the street and we only charged $2 a car. We made enough to buy a coupla roast beef po’boys at Comeaux’s on Hickory St. and a snowball over at Williams Snow Ball Stand. We lived 1/2 a block from a cemetery, but doesn’t everyone in N’awlins? We used to watch jazz funerals from our front porch. Now, my family lives in Katy, Texas. I have a “real” job, a truly supportive and understanding husband, two incredible kids, and a slightly neurotic dog. We used to have a guinea pig, but the dog killed it. Did I say slightly? My son is 15 and has Asperger’s Syndrome (high functioning Autism) and Crohn’s Disease, and is a constant lesson in patience, acceptance and managing expectations. He’s super smart, loves video games, fencing, movies, building with legos, and hanging around the house. Like me, he believes that it’s all about him. Sometimes, I wonder if I don’t have Asperger’s, too. Oh, and he’s very handsome. My daughter, 13, is so creative it’s scary- she loves to paint, draw manga and anima, build dioramas with any box she can get her hands on, create worlds with legos and then make movies with them, sculpt people, animals and objects with those little twist ties from the grocery store, does pottery, and wants to be a lifeguard. And she’s smart, too. And beautiful, inside and out. I write for a few hours in the evenings and on weekends as much as I can, without neglecting my family. (That laughter you hear is my husband) I attend a critique group, and do whatever the kids are into at the time.
