Fireside Romance Book 4: Glowing Embers

By Drew Hunt

Simon Peters and his partner Mark Smith face a number of challenging life events in the fourth and final volume of this heart-warming saga.


Because of his time working on the streets after being kicked out of home by his father, Mark worries he may have contracted HIV. Despite knowing the lack of treatment options if he were to test positive -- this is the late 1980's before the age of retro-viral drugs -- Mark is determined to know his fate.


Things become complicated when Mark receives a letter from his father wanting to re-establish contact. Roy entering their lives presents further challenges, ones which ultimately threaten Simon and Mark's continued happiness.


Gay teens Sam and Billy play an increasingly important part in Simon and Mark's lives, often regarding the older men as surrogate fathers/big brothers. Can this unconventional family pull together and become stronger, despite all the world has thrown at them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781611523935

Drew Hunt

Having read all the decent free fiction on the net Drew could find, he set out to try his hand at writing something himself. Fed up reading about characters who were super-wealthy, impossibly handsome, and incredibly well-endowed, Drew determined to make his characters real and believable. Drew lives a quiet life in the north of England with his cat. Someday he hopes to meet the kind of man he writes about. Readers can contact him at [e-mail].

Book preview

Fireside Romance Book 4: Glowing Embers

By Drew Hunt

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2013 Drew Hunt

ISBN 9781611523935

* * * *

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Fireside Romance Book 4: Glowing Embers

By Drew Hunt

Chapter 1

Noel, the kitten who'd shown up on our back doorstep the night before, was happy to see Mark and I when we opened the kitchen door Boxing Day morning.

Noel's meows let us know he was hungry. As he'd done the day before, Mark chopped up some leftover turkey and added a little gravy to it.

I think we should walk round to Mr Patel's corner shop after breakfast to get some proper pet food, Mark said, looking down at the black and white kitten who was enjoying his breakfast.

I looked around to see if Noel had left us any little messages on the floor. There were a couple, but the cat had used the newspaper I'd laid down, so it took only a matter of moments to clean up.

Once the cat had had his fill, Mark took him outside to do his business.

Are you going to do poo-poos for daddy?

I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh.

Once Noel had done his thing, Mark scooped him up and praised him for being such a good boy.

Do you just want toast and cereal this morning? I asked Mark when he'd tried, and failed, to interest the cat in a bowl of water.

He nodded. No doubt we'll be making pigs of ourselves later.

Helen and Paul Bates, our next door but one neighbours, had invited us round for dinner.

You only want us to help eat all your leftovers, I'd told Helen.

How did you guess? she'd said, laughing.

The boys must have decided to have a lie-in, Mark said as we sat at the table, munching our toast.

I nodded, remembering how I'd often sleep away half the morning during school holidays when I was their age.

Sam Bates and his boyfriend Billy Tranter were regular visitors to our house, sleeping in the loft conversion whenever their parents permitted it.

I left the breakfast plates in the sink to soak. The boys would soon be adding more. Going back into the front room, I got on with the dirty but ultimately rewarding task of cleaning out the fireplace. I carried out the ash in a bucket, returning a minute later with some sticks, an old newspaper, and a fresh bucket of coal.

We might as well leave the fire unlit till this evening, I said.

Mark nodded his agreement.

The central heating did a good job of keeping the house warm during the day, but there was nothing better than relaxing in front of a real coal fire during long winter evenings. The fireplace had been a major selling point for me when I'd bought the house a few years earlier.

Morning, Simon, Sam said, rubbing his eyes as he entered the living room.

Morning, I replied. Sleep well?

Always do when I'm with my man. He grinned. Any chance of breakfast?

I smiled and shook my head. You know where everything is. Mark and I have already eaten.

Thanks. Billy should be down in a few minutes, he's just finishing up in the bathroom.

After the boys had had breakfast, they decided to go back to Sam's.

We're running a bed and breakfast hotel, I told Mark.

The boys laughed.

We'll be round later, don't worry, Billy said.

When you're hungry again. Mark smiled at them.

We're all eating at ours, Sam reminded.

I nodded.

* * * *

There you go, little man, some proper kitty food, Mark cooed as he knelt on the floor, trying to coax Noel into eating the cat food we'd just bought.

Noel, however, wasn't interested. Nor had he seemed all that impressed by the washing up bowl we'd gotten him as a litter box.

Just leave him to it. He's probably still full from breakfast, I said, rubbing Mark's back.

We went into the front room, Noel joining us a short while later. But he soon grew bored with our company and went off to explore his new home.

* * * *

Charlotte was holding on to the furniture and taking a few experimental steps when we entered the Bates's living room.

You're a clever little lady, I said, kneeling next to her. She gave a few happy baby-type gurgles in response. Do you want to come and sit on Uncle Simon's knee?

I took more of the happy baby sounds as a 'yes', so I carefully picked her up and bounced her a few times on my knee. She giggled away.

Okay, everyone, Helen announced, coming into the room. The feeding frenzy may begin.

I carried Charlotte to the kitchen where Helen took over and strapped the baby into her highchair.

Did you have a good day yesterday? Steve, Helen's brother, asked Mark and me.

Yes, thanks. It was our first anniversary actually.

Really?

Mark and I told him an edited version of how we'd bumped into each other on the street, how we'd met up a number of times after that, how Mark had hurt his hands and had come to live with me so I could look after him.

Staying with matters medical, I nodded to Steve, your job sounds fascinating. Why did you choose orthopaedics?

It is. I went into bones because the professor at university made it really interesting.

I nodded, remembering how a good teacher could make any subject fun.

Steve chewed for a moment, swallowed, and then continued. It's possible to make a huge difference to a patient's life, give them back their mobility, and relieve some or all of their pain. And the results are usually fairly quickly achieved.

A kid down our street broke his arm last year, Billy put in. He had to wear a plaster cast for about six weeks. Apart from his arm looking a bit thin for a while after the plaster came off, his arm seemed to be as good as new.

Steve nodded. Bones heal quicker when you're younger.

He then told us he was looking around for another job. I'm about the right age to think about becoming a consultant.

That would be nice, Helen said, handing her brother the plate of bread and butter he'd requested. Then maybe you could find yourself a nice man to settle down with.

Steve rolled his eyes. I sensed his job was more important to him than a partner. Each to their own.

I've applied for a post in a hospital near York.

Helen and Sam were all smiles, but Steve brought them back down to earth by telling them that it was rare for someone to get such a position on their first attempt.

But it'd be great if you did get it, Sam said, laying down his knife to shake more ketchup on his chips. We'd see a lot more of you. Scotland's too far away.

Helen nodded her agreement before taking the bottle from her son. That's enough.

Well, we'll see, Steve said, giving his nephew a sympathetic smile.

It turned out the hospital Steve had applied to was the same one our friend Tom had been admitted to when he'd been stabbed. Tom was a postman and had been attacked for the unemployment cheques in his bag.

I haven't seen the hospital yet, but it has a good reputation, Steve said.

We told him about the peeling paint on the walls, the dreadful hospital food, and the battle-axe of a ward sister we'd had the misfortune to encounter.

Sounds like your typical NHS hospital, he said, making a chip sandwich.

Philistine, Helen said when she saw what her brother was doing.

Sam grinned and started to make one for himself, earning a glare from his mother and a snort of laughter from his dad.

What made you go for a job up in Scotland in the first place? I asked Steve, feeling it was wise to move the topic away from unusual eating practices.

Wanted to get as far away from Mum and Dad as I could. He put a pickled onion in his mouth, chewed for a moment, swallowed, then added, But that was a mistake.

I raised an eyebrow.

I've missed out on seeing the other members of my family. Smiling at his nephew, he added, And of course I've missed out on seeing Sam grow up.

I've missed seeing you, too, Unc.

Another reason for wanting to move is my current boss, Mr MacDonald. He's a complete bast... Steve shot a quick look at his sister before saying, He isn't very supportive of the gay lifestyle.

I'd have thought medicine would be fairly accepting, I said. It being a caring profession and everything. Then I remembered the battle-axe in Tom's ward.

Some branches are, but surgery, or at least certain surgeons, definitely aren't.

Steve told us about a patient of his who was brought in with several broken bones as a result of a gay bashing. My boss, when he reviewed the case, came out with a load of homophobic vitriol. Basically he said the patient got what he'd deserved.

I take it you're not out at work then? Mark asked.

Only to a few colleagues.

What are your chances of getting the job in York? Helen asked.

Steve shook his head. Don't know. As with many other things in the good old NHS, it's not what you know, it's who you know.

We'll keep our fingers crossed for you, Paul said, laying down his knife and fork. Great meal, love, He leaned over and kissed Helen's cheek.

As everyone else had finished and no one wanted dessert, save Sam and Billy, the adults retired to the front room.

We can't stop long, Mark said, declining a glass of brandy.

Oh? Paul asked, offering the brandy to me.

I shook my head.

We've got a kitten, Mark said.

I filled Paul and Helen in on Noel. He seems to be settling in pretty well.

Hope nobody comes round to claim him, Paul said.

Mark nodded. I'd cautioned him that that might happen.

The conversation moved on. I played a game of mini skittles with baby Charlotte, but she was tired and soon lost interest.

Mark was starting to fidget; I could tell he wanted to get home to Noel, so we began to say our goodbyes.

We'll see you two later then? I asked Sam and Billy, who had come into the front room after eating most of Helen's mince pies.

It'll just be me, Sam said.

Mum and Dad want me to stay at home with them tonight. Billy smirked. They said they'd like to be reminded what I look like.

* * * *

Back at home, we tried to convince Noel to use his new litter tray. I didn't really want him going back outside; he might run away. Once he got older and was more used to our house being his home I thought we'd put in a cat flap so he could come and go as he pleased.

Come on, baby, time for wee-wees,

I rolled my eyes at Mark's continued baby talk. You'll make him nervous if you keep bending over him like that. I doubted I'd be able to pee if someone was watching me.

Mark nodded and straightened up.

* * * *

As it was still a nice day--by December standards--Mark and I decided to go for a walk.

The woods? he asked as we turned the corner out of our street.

So long as you promise to give me a kiss when we get there, I said, nudging his shoulder with mine.

The woods it is then. Mark returned my shoulder nudge.

Once we'd reached the thickest part of the wood, Mark stopped walking, turned to me, and opened his arms. I walked into his hug and we exchanged a few kisses.

Out of the sun it soon grew chilly, despite the fact we'd wrapped up well.

Want to walk some more? Mark asked.

I nodded and we held hands as we negotiated the various tree roots.

A few minutes later, we heard someone coming towards us, so we reluctantly moved apart.

Merry Christmas, Mark called out.

The newcomer grunted. It was Mr Wagner. He and his family lived a couple of streets away. I'd had a number of run-ins with the Wagners at the library where I worked. Although, as I didn't get out onto the floor as much since being promoted, I hadn't seen Mr Wagner or any of his unpleasant brood in a few months.

You seen a kitten round here? he gruffly asked.

A kitten? I asked. No, sorry. Why, have you lost one?

Wouldn't be bloody asking if I hadn't.

I saw Mark tense.

Got the bloody thing for our Cindy for Christmas and it buggered off yesterday.

I shrugged.

Can't say I'm sorry; the bloody thing kept pissing on the carpet.

Oh, right.

Scrawny little sod it was. Black with white paws and a white patch on the bottom of its face. It's probably got itself run over.

It seemed he was describing Noel.

I shrugged again.

Cats, Mr Wagner continued, not realising the conversation was one way. Can't stand them. So part of me hopes the sodding thing did get run over.

I shivered involuntarily; I was glad Noel had gotten away from the obnoxious Mr Wagner and his equally unpleasant family.

Sorry, can't help you, I said, turning my back on the man and walking away. Thankfully, Mark, who had been silent throughout the brief exchange, followed me.

Once we were a reasonable distance away, Mark took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Thanks.

"There was no way I'd let