nature.
Index
The Rest of Forever
About the Author
More Kate Aaron Titles
What He Wants
Christo's life fell apart when his partner of eight years walked out on him. A fling with sexy, arrogant Damien might be just what he needs to help him get over his ex. But letting someone in is never easy, especially not when you're two alpha men both used to being the boss.
Dom on the Side
When a one-night stand makes Ryan Jessop a casual offer to introduce him to BDSM, he discovers in Jim a skilled Dominant. Sameer Farouk is the right guy at the wrong time, and as far as Ryan can tell, not kinky. Torn between them, Ryan must decide if he's prepared to gamble everything on one man, or if he'd be better off with a vanilla boyfriend and a Dom on the side.
Blowing It
Writing a YA bestseller was the worst thing to ever happen to Owen Barnes. Out and proud for years, he suddenly finds himself back in the closet. Building surveyor Magnus Cassidy is the first man to catch Owen’s interest in almost two years, and he's not going to allow his agent to erase Magnus from is life. Can Owen find a way to reconcile his public and private lives, or has he already blown it?
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About the Author
Born in Liverpool, Kate Aaron is a bestselling author of the #1 LGBT romances What He Wants, Ace, The Slave, and other works.
Kate swapped the North West for the Midwest in October 2015 and married award-winning author AJ Rose. Together they plan to take over the world.
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About this Story
The Rest of Forever was written for the Love is Always Write event, sponsored by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group. For more on the group and the event, visit their Goodreads page
http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/20149-m-m-romance
For Cheri
THE REST OF FOREVER
Kate Aaron
Copyright 2012 Kate Aaron
Croft House
Eight o’clock Sunday morning in the middle of February and I’m jogging around my local park. I hate Sunday mornings, and I hate jogging. So why am I here? Because he is: Paul Adams, my best-friend-forever, the guy I’m totally, heartbreakingly, nauseatingly in love with.
I know, I know, I’m a total cliché. What gay guy doesn’t grow up and fall in love with his best friend, right? I’ve read enough sappy romances in my time to know I’m not alone. There should be a support group or something. And in all those stories the supposedly straight (they’re always straight) best friend suddenly wakes up and realises he feels the same. Cue sunset.
Except my best friend isn’t straight. And, once upon a time, he did feel the same.
Not so sympathetic now, are you?
I was named Jackson by my mother in a fit of Gaelic traditionalism, that being her maiden name and her being an only child. I guess she didn’t want the line to die completely, and at least my dad stuck around long enough to bestow us with his name—Campbell—saving me from the ignominy of being christened Jackson Jackson. You’d think with ancestry like that I’d be all peaches ’n’ cream with a shock of curly red hair, but I’m not. Coal black, my hair is, like soot. So black it shines blue in the light and everyone thinks I must have dyed it. Guys fall over themselves to tell me they love it—black hair, blue eyes, skin pale as marble. Like a Disney prince, they say. They think I’m lucky: I’m not. I live in fear of going grey—at twenty-five, a possibility that gets more likely by the day—because I know when I do I’ll look like a fucking badger, and then I’ll have to dye it.
I quite like my eyes though, blue-green like the sea on a hot summer day. I just wish my lashes weren’t so damn long, like a girl’s, so thick you’d swear I was wearing mascara and kohl. To compensate I keep my stubble rough, not so long I look like one of the
