Book Title: Daisy, Yellow
Author: Angelique Jurd
Publisher: Small Black Cat Media
Cover Artist: May Dawney Designs
Genre/s: Contemporary Gay Romance
Length: 177 pages
Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited
Just months after breaking up with his boyfriend, Noah Jenkins inherits his grandfather’s farm and he decides it’s time for a change of scenery. He packs his bags, buys a dog, and moves onto the property. When his Labrador puppy Daisy gets hurt he meets local vet Hunter Ross and life starts to look interesting again.
Hunter Ross has always lived in small, conservative Newton, in rural Illinois. At 39 he’s never been in love and never had a lover and may have neglected to tell anyone he’s close to that he’s gay. It’s never been a problem – until Daisy, Yellow and her owner, Noah, show up.
Is Noah’s love enough for Hunter to risk everything? Does Hunter have the strength to make the hardest choices he’ll ever make and survive?
Noah is woken early by a heavy weight on his chest and a wet tongue sweeping across his mouth. He opens his eyes to find Daisy staring down at him, her tail sweeping across his belly. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he dodges her tongue with a laugh and scratches her ears.
“Did you miss me?” Daisy slurps her tongue up the middle of his face and he falls back on the pillow laughing and spluttering. “Gross. Did you learn that at Hunters?”
At the sound of Hunter’s name, she cocks her head and thumps her tail again.
“Oh, you know who that is huh? Hunter?”
This time she barks at him and tries to lick his face again but he’s too fast and rolls her onto the side of the bed and scratches her belly.
“Yeah, we like him, don’t we?” Noah pulls himself up to lean against the headboard and reaches for his phone on the night table. Daisy inches toward him on her belly. “Too early to call him isn’t it?”
Daisy drops her muzzle on her paws and whimpers. If we’re awake, he’s probably awake.
“Text maybe?” Text. Call. Whatever. Just decide. Hunter will be awake. “Text.”
He hits send and swings his legs out of bed. Lets Daisy out and hits the button on the coffee pot. Maybe his dad is right; maybe he does tend to run away from the hard stuff. His mind wanders back to when he’d told his own parents. He was twenty and only told them because he’d been photographed at an LGBT event on campus and figured if he didn’t say something, someone else would. Especially as he was living at home still – oh look another easy out – and at least half a dozen people he knew were at the same university. If that hadn’t happened, would he have said anything? Would he have been any different to Hunter? He’s not so sure anymore.
That said, he’s not convinced it will be as bad as Hunter fears. People must suspect, surely. Isabella had. Once the news is out, he’s certain, it will be a twenty-four-hour sensation then they’ll move onto something else. People being people, he thinks.
His phone chimes and Hunter’s name appears on the screen.
Morning. Sleep well?
Grinning, Noah taps the screen.
Yes. Thought of you.
Within seconds the chime sounds again.
You’ll go blind. You coming over later?
He laughs and begins to tap a response but before he can get more than two letters, wet paws land on his thigh, leaving muddy prints on his sleep pants. Somehow Daisy has managed to find the one surviving puddle from an overnight shower and jumped in it. Her legs, belly, and tail are caked in mud.
“Seriously? It’s not even eight yet.” When she wags her tail, mud splatters across his pants, the cupboard door, and the floor. “Okay, out! Out! You’re getting hosed off before we do anything else.”
By ten o’clock, Noah has not only cleaned up Daisy and the muddy mess she left in the kitchen but done a load of laundry and washed his car. He goes inside, changes into dry clothes, boots up his laptop and begins working on the formal report for the past four days. Before long he’s buried in diagrams and templates and he pays no attention to Daisy as she wanders in and out. While he works she tells off the squirrel in the driveway, chases several birds from the front lawn, and unbeknown to Noah digs a small hole in the patch he has earmarked for vegetables.
At lunchtime he makes a sandwich and pours more coffee; he feeds Daisy his leftovers ignoring the scolding he’s sure a certain vet would give him despite there being no onions anywhere near the sandwich. He has just settled in to write up an invoice to send to the agency when Daisy begins to bark. He whistles then calls her name, but she ignores him, barks becoming more urgent.
“If you want to go and see Hunter and his demented cat, you need to let me finish,” he mutters as he goes to find her.
She’s not on the front lawn or in the driveway and when he checks, the back yard is empty too. Frowning he calls her name. The answering bark comes from the other end of the shed and he jogs over to see what is so exciting and new, that she can’t tear herself away. Rounding the end of the building he sees her, near the corner by the wood pile, tail straight out behind her like an arrow. She barks and shifts on her paws and he hears it before he sees it.
A dry, rattling sound, nowhere near as loud as the movies he watched as a kid had him believe. Heart in his throat he takes a tentative step forward, hoping she’ll let him pull her away. Coiled near the pile of wood, is a snake. Noah remembers Hunter telling him a couple of weeks ago to always try and pay attention to what they look like in case one bites you. He didn’t explain how you were supposed to do that; especially if your dog was between you and it.
About the Author
Author, acafan, Buddhist. Angelique is owned by four cats, three adult children, two temperamental computers, and a very patient boyfriend (not a partridge in a pear tree).
A former print journalist and editor, she has over the years, written about a wide variety of topics from politics to duck breeding to rock concerts. Her interest in fandom studies was sparked in 2015 when she watched Supernatural for the first time and she has been fascinated by the intersection between fans and creators ever since and is currently completing an MA (Media Studies) in the subject.
She likes cold champagne, hot coffee, neat whiskey, loud Springsteen, and the Winchester brothers kicking butt. When she’s not writing she likes to color, watch movies, and get more tattoos.
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