Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits Read online

  Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits includes:

  Tommy O’Shea is raising his seven younger brothers and sisters without any help from his drug abusing father and stepmother. Since he was fifteen years old, he’s managed to keep the children fed and out of foster care. It takes up every ounce of his energy and the last thing he needs is romance complicating his life further.

  Rookie cop Bobby McAlister doesn’t belong in Tommy’s harsh world, but Tommy can’t push him out. As their unlikely friendship turns into a tentative relationship, they weather the daily storm of Tommy’s life with a lot of laughs and more than a few arguments.

  Tommy isn’t used to trusting outsiders, and he’s never asked for help in his life. But when a tragedy strikes the O’Shea family and threatens everything he’s fought for, he’ll have to learn to do both to recover from the brutal hit.

  Private investigator Mackenzie Williams’s newest client is everything he’s looking for in a guy—charming, beautiful, intelligent, and successful. There’s only one itty bitty problem—the guy’s not exactly gay. In fact, Jordan Channing is looking for a PI to follow his fiancée. The smart thing would be to thank Jordan for his time, turn Mr. Perfect away (don’t let the door hit you on the rump, thank you very much), and forget he exists.

  Of course, Mackenzie has never been accused of doing the smart thing. Being a smart aleck is more his MO. Relationships aren’t up his alley, never have been. So why’s he so inexplicably drawn to his new client?

  Jordan has always been the high achiever, a man who lives in a focused, controlled, and carefully constructed manner. But for the first time in his life, he has to admit the impossible—another man is getting his engine running on all cylinders. Despite Jordan’s denial, it’s not long before he can no longer resist the strong undercurrents pulling them together. Now Jordan must decide if he can go against everything he’s ever known to have the only love he’s ever wanted.

  Jake Manning’s smart mouth frequently gets him into trouble. Because of it, he can’t hold a job. Combined with some bad luck, it’s prevented him from keeping steady employment. A huge debt looms over him, and alone he shoulders the care of his alcoholic mother and three younger sisters. When a housekeeping position opens, Jake’s so desperate he leaps at the opportunity. On landing, he finds his new boss, Patrick Stanford, a fussy, arrogant, rude… and blind man.

  Born without sight, Patrick is used to being accommodated, but he’s met his match with Jake, who doesn’t take any of his crap and threatens to swap all the braille labels on his groceries and run off with his guide dog unless he behaves.

  Jake gets a kick out of Patrick. Things are looking up: the girls are starting their own lives and his mum’s sobriety might stick this time. He’s sacrificed everything for his family; maybe it’s time for him to live his life and start a relationship with Patrick. When his mother needs him, guilt makes his choice between family and Patrick difficult, and Jake must realize he’s not alone anymore.

  With his fauxhawk, sleeve tattoos, and visible piercings, Ridley Corbin has the whole badass vibe going on in spades. The image serves him well as the self-proclaimed protector of the underdog, and he wants nothing more than to be Alex Firestone’s hero.

  Alex, a mild-mannered library assistant, has moved to Slater, a quiet college town, hoping to hide from his past. He keeps to himself, but that doesn’t save him from catching the unwanted attention of the campus bully. But not all is as it seems. Alex’s past comes calling, and it’s time he becomes top dog.

  The death of his wife four years earlier left Travis Bennett a shell of the man he used to be. With his dog by his side, Travis raises his three children, manages his business, and works as a ranch hand. But every day, every minute, is an aching emptiness.

  Wesley Ryan has fond memories of the small Ozark town of El Dorado. Seeing it as a safe place to put his failed relationships behind him, Wesley moves into his grandparents’ old home and takes over the local veterinary clinic. An early morning visit from Travis and his dog stirs feelings that Wesley seeks to push away—the last thing he needs is to fall for a man with baggage and three kids as part of the package.

  Life, it seems, has other plans.

  This work is dedicated to anyone who keeps trying,

  even after life knocks you on your ass.

  SPECIAL THANKS to my dear friend Debbie, not only for the encouragement to finish this book, but for all the technical advice when it comes to foster care, adoption, and dealing with the state. Your family and your journey are an inspiration. Thanks also to my own family that keeps me going and to my good friends Zach, Audrey, and Anne for the beta and support.

  LEANING HIS head back against the cool brick wall, Tommy O’Shea tried to block out the stench of the dumpster and the faint skittering sound to his left. He wasn’t a fan of rats. Or roaches.

  He heard a stifled groan come from the mouth slowly working his cock but didn’t bother to glance down. This was just another night, another trick to get off with after work before heading home to God only knew what. C’mon, I don’t got all night….

  It wasn’t the fault of the eager stranger on his knees. It was Tommy’s own racing mind. Hope Colleen remembered to turn off the stove when she finished dinner. And Jesus, if Mike didn’t do the dishes like I said, I’ll bust his ass in the morning. And so it went for several minutes, making things take much longer than they normally would.

  “That’s it…,” he finally whispered, swallowing hard as the guy—what was his name again?—took him down that extra inch, deep-throating him while playing with Tommy’s balls. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he added, more for himself than the other guy, forcing himself to rock his hips a little, trying to get into the moment and out of all the other scenarios spiraling through his head.

  Wonder what kind of bullshit I’m going home to tonight? He didn’t know what it would be, but he knew it would be something. Cheryl, his stepmother, might have made a few friends in whatever gutter she and his father were in and brought them back to the house. They could be shooting up on the living room sofa. The kids could be there, seeing it all, or hiding upstairs. He could get home to find the police already on their doorstep. It might even be the same two cops who usually showed up at the most inopportune moments. They’d been by the house so many times, dragging his parents home from the street or responding to another domestic disturbance, the kids all knew them by name.

  Officer Sanders was an older guy who didn’t seem to care one way or another as long as he wasn’t being shot at or pissed on. But Officer McAlister—Bobby, as Tommy had known him briefly in high school—was still a rookie and always seemed a little pained, a little worried every time he had the misfortune of dealing with Cal and Cheryl O’Shea.

  Bobby was something else, something pure and clean and pretty, with those striking blue eyes and that fair skin—even his hair was curly and blond. Christ, he was even a choirboy when they were kids. Real angel, Bobby was. Still an angel: guarding, protecting, concerning himself with the troubles of others. Tempting.

  Tommy thought back for a moment, remembered Bobby on the track at school, his skin slick with a sheen of clean sweat, his breath pounding out hard as his feet tattooed a heavy rhythm no one could touch. Tommy almost laughed. Hell, he even flies like an angel. The gently mocking humor died a second later as he remembered them both in the locker room after gym. Wet with soap and hot water, steam rising, muscles defined and sinewy….

  He came with a grunt, biting his lip so hard he nearly drew blood.

  The trick in front of him politely tucked him back into his jeans. Tommy started to wonder if he’d gotten his name to begi
n with, because for the life of him, he still couldn’t remember it. He was about to ask before his back pocket started to buzz. “Shit,” Tommy muttered, nodding a thanks to the guy and preparing to jerk him off for his efforts even as he tugged his phone free and flipped it open. “What’s wrong?” he asked, feeling tension creep up his shoulders as what’s-his-name dusted off his knees and looked expectantly at him.

  “Nothing’s wrong, exactly, but….”

  The soft voice of one of his younger sisters sounded hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if this was something worth bothering him over. She was barely eleven and the one with the tenderest heart of all of them. Tommy sometimes thought he worried about her the most, but really, he worried about all of them for different reasons on different days.

  “What’s goin’ on, Carrie?” He tried to ease his tone as he reached for what’s-his-name and started to pull at the button of the guy’s jeans.

  “Just…. Sorry to bug ya, but Max has been crying for half an hour and he’s pulling at his ear again, and Zoe has a fever. We’re outta the drops for them, and I don’t think—”

  Tommy still had his fingers wrapped around the guy’s cock, but his progress had stopped, even as the guy tried to shift and push against him. “How high is her fever?”

  “Hundred point two. It’s not bad, but…”

  “Yeah, Christ, the doc even said if Cheryl and Pop would quit smoking around them they wouldn’t get the damn ear infections. You haven’t been laying them down with their bottles, have ya?” He slowly pulled his hand free from the other guy and tried to look regretful.

  “No, swear to Christ, Tommy, we stopped that when the nurse down at the clinic said it would make their teeth come in rotten.”

  The babies were seven months old and there were so many dos and don’ts when it came to raising them, even Tommy had a hard time keeping it all straight.

  “Good girl, Carrie. I’ll be home soon and I’ll pick up some stuff at the drugstore. Can I talk to Colleen?”

  “She’s got Max and Zoe in a bath, tryin’ to see if it helps.”

  “’Kay, good, I’ll be home soon. Good job.” Tommy snapped his phone shut and looked into the face of a very disappointed stranger, thinking it would be really bad form to ask the guy to spot him a twenty until payday. “Sorry.” He shoved his phone into the inside pocket of his dark blue work jacket. “Hate to, well, leave ya like that.” Tommy managed to bury his smirk as he glanced down at the probably painful hard-on the guy was sporting. “Kids need me, I gotta get.”

  “What? Now?” The guy was a little indignant, but who wouldn’t be? “You’ve got kids?”

  Tommy did laugh then. “Yeah, seven of ’em. I’m tryin’ for my own baseball team.”

  And with that, Tommy O’Shea lit a cigarette and walked quickly out of the alley behind Smarty’s Pub where he’d just washed an assload of dishes and gotten his cock sucked. He rounded the corner into the early spring night, hoping to hell he could find a pharmacy still open.

  The closest thing he found between 212th and home was an all-night gas station, but they had a little convenience store attached. He hoped it would do.

  Squinting under the bright fluorescent lights, Tommy didn’t ask where anything was but milled around a little. He knew he had nearly eight dollars on him but had no idea how much the stuff would cost. He, like half the neighborhood, also knew the camera in the corner didn’t work. Convenient indeed.

  He thought he probably looked suspicious in his tight jeans and heavy boots, with his dark hair hanging in his face and covering his clear green eyes, but that couldn’t be helped. Tommy walked up the candy aisle and down the chip aisle, back to the sodas and then the small automotive aisle. Trying to come off as indecisive rather than like he was casing the place, Tommy grabbed a can of soda—on sale for less than a buck—and then a small bag of chips­—only a dollar there. Then he wandered over to the aisle with pain relievers and PMS relievers and pads and diapers. The guy behind the counter didn’t even bother to watch him, probably didn’t give a shit as long as no one pulled a gun. The little bottle of infant drops was over nine dollars.

  The electronic sensor on the door dinged as it opened. Tommy didn’t look to see who it was but grabbed two boxes of the acetaminophen and hoped the clerk had glanced over at the new customer rather than in Tommy’s direction. Indifference would only go so far and lifting something in plain view wasn’t a chance he wanted to take.

  As he slipped the boxes into his coat pocket, he heard a familiar voice and felt a warmth behind him.

  “Put it back, Tom.” McAlister. Christ. Of all the stop-and-robs in this shitty town, he had to pick this one?

  Tommy let out a sigh, shoulders dropping a bit. “I can’t.” He gritted his teeth, his cheeks flaming with heat, not over the fact he couldn’t pay for something like this, but because he’d been caught. And Bobby McAlister had just called him Tom in a husky whisper. His breath brushed against the skin at the back of Tommy’s neck.

  “Why the hell not?” Bobby asked quietly, standing a little closer than he needed to.

  Then he realized Bobby was blocking the clerk’s view of him.

  “Zoe and Max are sick and they need this shit and I don’t have enough to pay for it. Till I get paid,” he added with a defiant tilt to his chin.

  Bobby narrowed his eyes and stuck his hand out, demanding without a word that Tommy pass them over.

  “Christ, are you gonna run me in for this?” Tommy bristled, feeling angry now. His little brother and sister were at home and in need, and this guy—this guy he thought was an angel fifteen minutes ago—was standing in his way.

  The snort of laughter from Bobby was unexpected, and Tommy handed over the two little boxes. “Did I run you in when you beat the ever-loving shit out of the Hopkins brothers?” he asked, his lips twitching in a smile.

  “Hey, those guys had it comin’ for what they did to—”

  “To Colleen, yeah, I know. I looked the other way and didn’t push it when they didn’t press charges, right? Or the time I caught you and Mikey lifting spare parts off that dead guy’s car?”

  “He was dead, not like he needed them.”

  Bobby shook his head, but he laughed. He turned toward the front counter, the medicine in his hand. He stopped to grab himself a pack of beef jerky, a box of chocolate-covered doughnuts, and a pack of gum. Tommy thought absently it was probably what he’d come in for in the first place. With a little jerk of Bobby’s head toward the counter, Tommy walked up behind him, going to put the chips and soda back. “Those too,” Bobby told the clerk.

  “Hey, no… I got enough for these, it’s cool.”

  “My treat.” Bobby sounded amused, but at the same time he gave Tommy a look that made him put the things on the counter.

  Once they’d paid for everything and headed out of the store, Bobby walked over to his car—not the cruiser Tommy usually saw him in, but a little black Mustang that shone even in the dark. “I’ll give ya a lift.”

  “Nah, I’m good—just a few blocks.”

  Bobby raised the bag, reminding Tommy he still didn’t have what he needed. “Suit yourself.” Bobby clicked the remote to unlock the doors. He smirked as he slid behind the wheel.

  “Bastard,” Tommy muttered, rolling his eyes as he got into the car.

  “Changed your mind?” Bobby’s tone was playful, teasing, as he buckled his seat belt before starting the engine.

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “There’s always a choice, Tom.”

  Tommy didn’t want to respond to that. Other people had choices—he had got-to, need-to, and won’t-do. He expected the car to back up, for them to be on the road, but it sat there purring, as if Bobby was waiting for something.

  “What?”

  “Seat belt.”

  “Yeah? I…. Oh, right.” He couldn’t help rolling his eyes again as he reached across himself and pulled the strap down, buckling up. “Safe and secure, Officer. Or did you have a helm
et for me too?”

  “Hey, you have no idea how many morons I find with skin and hair in the windshield, teeth in the dashboard, just because they were too stupid or drunk or proud to put on a damn belt.” He started backing up, then added, “I’ve seen you, ya know. You always make the kids wear theirs.”

  “Yeah, well, Christ, they’re kids, I don’t want ’em to get—” Tommy cut himself off, not wanting to make Safety Officer McAlister’s point for him.

  Bobby only lifted an eyebrow, but his expression was full of smug triumph.

  THE HOUSE, normally dark and quiet at this hour, looked bright from the curb. Anxiety started to roil through Tommy’s system, knowing they couldn’t afford another doctor visit since Cheryl had been too high or too lazy—or both—to sign the forms to get the kids on medical and keep the food stamps. He’d filled it all out for her—all she’d had to do was sign the damn things.

  “Looks like everyone’s still awake,” Bobby observed as he turned the car off.

  “Christ, they shouldn’t be up this late, they all got school tomorrow. Davey’s got two tests and Carrie’s supposed to give a presentation in Science.” He was talking to himself, thinking out loud in his frustration, but Bobby looked over at him, his face unreadable in the dark.

  “It’ll be fine, Tom. We’ll get things settled in there.”

  Before Tommy could protest, Bobby was out of the car, bag in hand, and striding toward the front steps like he belonged there.

  The front door opened before they were halfway to the porch. Colleen stood with a baby on one hip and another curled around her leg. Dutiful to her core, she never complained, never thought for a moment about herself. Two days ago when she turned seventeen, Tommy had wished her a happy birthday—which was the most any of them got when birthdays rolled around. She had only looked at him as if she’d forgotten and then responded with a smile and a shrug.