The Eighth Night: Eclectic Novelettes

By Caraway Carter

A Chanukah Secret Admirer Romance.

 

Davi has eight nights to try and convince his former professor that he should break his rule: no students for lovers. Dr. Sol Gerber has another plan in mind. After the first night, Sol goes out of town and arranges for someone else to get the gifts. That someone else is his TA, Jon Ellis, a hot blond grad student in Literature.

 

Over eight nights, Davi delivers gifts ranging from socks to a hotel room key. In between chance meetings and the secret admirer gifts, the two men connect, finally meet. and sparks fly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caraway Carter
• Release date: Dec 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393631637

Caraway Carter

Caraway Carter has worn numerous hats. He’s been a furniture salesman, a dresser, a costumer, an actor/waiter, a rabble-rouser, a poet and most recently a writer. He loves words and stringing them together, he loves sex and sexy men, and he writes relationship fiction that reminds you–it’s never too late for love. And he has lived his tagline. He married his husband on Halloween, at the age of forty-nine, and they are the loving parents of an adorable cat named Molly.

Book preview

The Eighth Night

The Eighth Night

Caraway Carter

The Eighth Night

Copyright © 2017 Caraway Carter All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

The moral right of the author has been asserted. First Edition 2017

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Dedication

To Adam, for keeping it real and pointing out what worked and keeping me on track.

To Samuel Delany, whose writing has taken me places I wish existed and whose words helped my main characters find their

connection.

The Eighth Night

Davi Hartmann

Oh, come on Heather. Spill. I pestered my best friend every afternoon at Brown University when I should have been interviewing people for the Brown Daily Herald. I had to know about Dr. Sol Gerber, she was the department secretary, and she knew everything about everyone. Heather might have flunked out as a student, but she was A+ as an administrator.

Last time you said he was single. I shrugged and threw my hands up in the air like every old Jewish Rabbi I ever knew.

Davi. Heather pulled the stack of files into her lap and nodded her head. I already told you that. Three times.

So, I shouldn’t have much trouble. In Hebrew Lit last year, he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

She looked at me. Her full head of curls shook with her when she laughed. "Davi, he’s got a rule. You know that."

I know, but maybe he’s forgotten it? He’s so cute; that little beard and those hairy arms.

I'd found a picture of him from a department party. He was wearing a Christmas shirt that had I've been a bad boy this year

Untitled

stitched on front. I'd figured if I knew everything about him, I might get a better grade.

Did you see Dr. Gerber’s photo on the website? I thought he was Jewish.

He is . . . Wait, was it the Christmas bad boy shirt? She added pages from another pile into the folders and tossed them on the counter when she was through.

Yes, he’s grinning like a dirty old man.

Right, that was our ugly Christmas sweater party. His was a T-shirt.

"Well, he is Jewish." We both laughed.

I dropped my voice to a near whisper. In lit class, he’d stand near my elbow, and I swear I could feel the warmth emanating from him. Leaning against the door jamb, I stared down the hallway toward Dr. Gerber’s office.

Ok, that’s too much. I don’t want to have him in my mind like that.

I sighed. Did you know that haircut makes you look like a young Halle Berry? I walked back to her desk and pulled up a chair.

She giggled. When I saw her on the Academy Awards, I knew I had to get it too. I love it.

Can I help you with something? I’m stalking again, aren’t I? Davi, do you have anyone to interview today?

I mean, I do, but I’m sick of the story I’m working on. I pulled out my notebook. I’ve got an appointment with Dean Fitzhugh at two thirty.

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A couple of voices echoed in the hallway. I could have sworn it was Solly. That was my pet name for him. Not that I ever called him that to his face. I could just imagine Solly kissing me, that beard warming my face, scratching it. My fantasies were like every