Dawn started out hobby writing fan fiction back in the 70’s and has had a few things published in fanzine form and on fan-fic websites. She has written a weekly column for a county newspaper and has had a few magazine articles printed.
Dawn is engaged to Scott Flemington, a retired HS English teacher and sometimes co-author on stories. They are life-long Michiganders and between the two of them, have five children, seven grandchildren, two adopted senior dogs, a fat sassy cat, two stray, but equally sassy kittens and a turtle who is the boss of all of them. They are highly active with their local GLBT and BDSM community.
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EMAIL = dawnflemington@dawnflemington.com or dawnflemington@gmail.com
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Bruce Deirmann has lost everything. His job, his house, his children and his partner. The holidays are fast approaching and even though he has a well-meaning ex-wife cheer leading him on and his daughter’s wedding in the wings, he still feels hopeless. At the end of his rope, he is challenged to make an early resolution – to start living again.
Jorry Nelson is a quirky dog walker who’s made a few resolutions himself. Alone in the world, he is determined to better his life and get out of the illegal job he is trapped in. A childhood friend of Bruce’s children, he enters Bruce’s life at the right time and the attraction on both parts is immediate.
Love blossoms like May in the cold of December. However, trouble follows Jorry and though he and Bruce are working on a new beginning for the both of them, will Jorry be able to leave his past activities behind? Or will they haunt the couple and tear them away from each other before true love and happiness have a chance to live?
Excerpt:
“Bruce! You didn’t break for lunch again. Get your ass to my office now.”
“Yes, dear.” Bruce ended the call and picked up his tools, which surrounded the snowmaking cannon, wondering again if working for his ex-wife was such a hot idea.
Not that he wasn’t grateful. After twenty-five years of employment, his old firm had sold out. The company underwent a major overhaul, and the new management decided to take a more youthful approach. Unfortunately, Bruce didn’t fit the fresh image, and forced early retirement became a reality six months ago.
It was through their two adult children, Kelley and Kerri, that Gail found out about his predicament. She and her current husband, Warren Windom, had hired him as maintenance for their golf and ski resort located on the outskirts of Gaylord. The job had its merits—his department was always busy repairing something, and the job brought in a decent paycheck. However, the downside was spending the major part of his week with a well-meaning yet domineering ex-wife, who made it her business to watch out for him, whether he wanted it or not.
After washing the grease from his hands, Bruce left the maintenance garage and headed up to the resort office. The secretary’s chair was empty, but the adjacent door stood wide open. Behind a large cherrywood desk, a plump woman sat with a phone to her ear. She glanced up and waved her bejeweled hand, motioning for him to sit. As he entered the office, Gail’s two corgis—Gingersnap and Snickerdoodle—bolted out from under her desk and danced around Bruce.
“Yes. I’ll expect that holiday shipment no later than Friday. Good-bye.” Gail slid a deli sandwich across the desk and leaned forward in her leather-padded chair, her full attention on him. “Bruce, you haven’t been clocking out for lunch.” She licked her lips and tore open her own deli sub. “You know how I feel about that.”
Bruce rolled his shoulders with indifference. “I haven’t had an appetite.”
“You have to eat. Keep your strength up and all that crap.” Gail spoke around a mouthful of food. “Besides, the wedding is coming up in less than seven weeks. We need to make sure you’re healthy enough to walk our daughter down the aisle.”
He unwrapped his ham-and-cheese sandwich and bit down, ignoring the two pair of brown doggy eyes following his every movement. Leave it to Gail to cause drama where there was none. “I’m doing fine.”
“To hell you are.” She glared at him over her rectangular reading glasses. “You’ve lost at least seventy pounds, and on your six-foot-four-inch frame, it looks terrible, like a refugee from one of those starving countries over in Africa.”
Bruce sighed. His weight loss was not that severe, though it had rid him of his beer gut. “Anything else wrong with my appearance?”
“Now that you mention it, yes. Your eyes have dark circles underneath, and the gray hair at your temples makes you look much older than you are. And what’s up with the beard? You’re like somebody’s grandpa.”
Bruce tugged at his scraggly beard and declined to answer. “The circles are because I can’t sleep at night. The hair”—Bruce brushed at his hairline by his ears—“makes me look distinguished.”
Gail snorted. “Says who?”
“Robert.”
At the sound of the man’s name, both corgis whined and placed their heads on their paws. Gail’s stern features softened. “Hun, Robert has been gone for two years.” When Bruce did not answer, she reached over the desk and touched his hand. “I know there’ve been many changes in your life recently. I understand.”
“You understand? I don’t think so.” Bruce shoved her hand away and tossed his sandwich aside on the desk. “Three years ago, our children moved out of the nest. Two years ago, my partner of fifteen years died of cancer. This year, I lost my career, and I’m packing and moving out of a house I grew up in. What’s left?”
“What’s left, indeed.” Gail brushed sandwich crumbs off her lips, causing the matte red color to smear off on her fingertips. “Think about it. You have a new job. You have a chance for a new residence, with no ghosts. Our son will be graduating U of M soon, our daughter is getting married, and you still have me for a friend.” She carefully wiped her chubby fingers on a napkin. “That’s a lot to be thankful for.”
“I’m thankful for those things. It’s just…” Bruce bowed his head.
“What? Come on, now. Don’t clam up. Keeping things inside isn’t good for your health.”
“I’ve never felt so utterly alone.” Bruce rose from his chair and stared out the vertical blinds at the overcast skies and barren trees. “It’s like forever winter in my life. Cold, dreary, and barren.”
“Stop.” Gail walked around the desk to sit on the corner. “You’re depressing me.”
“Well, you asked.”
“So you’re living in December.” Gail leaned back thoughtfully while the short little bodies of her dogs danced at her dangling feet. “What you need is the fresh breath of May to fill your hungry heart.”
Bruce shook his head. “Oh, no. Don’t even go there.”
“Go where?”
“Suggesting I need a love life.”
“I was thinking more of a new life resolution.” Gail crossed her arms, pushing her ample breasts forward. “However, you bring up an interesting point. What better way to get back in the game of life than to have a new love interest?”
The mere thought of dating again set his teeth on edge. The pool of men was dwindling in his age bracket, not to mention all the time and effort it would take to invest in another relationship. “I can’t.”
“Why not? You know Robert wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your days alone and withdrawn.”
“I know.” The thought of Robert panged his heart, but not nearly as strongly as it had in the past. Bruce slid his hands into his back pockets with a loud exhale. “But I’m too old, weary, and have nothing to give.”
Gail stuck her tongue between her lips and blew. “Pishaw. You have plenty to offer a potential partner. You have to want to get off this melancholy merry-go-round and get your”—she swiveled her arms in the opposite direction of her hefty derriere—“groove back. And what better time to start? The holidays are almost upon us. Everybody is searching for someone to be with. I say make it an early New Year’s resolution. Start living again.”
Gingersnap and Snickerdoodle woofed their agreement.
Bruce knew his ex’s intentions were good, but he did not want to deal with things of that nature at work. He noted the clock on the wall with much relief. “Lunch is over. Time to get back to work.” He grabbed his sandwich and, without a good-bye, rushed out the door.
Gail called after him, her voice loud enough to travel into the hallway. “Tell me you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
Bruce did not reply.
Buy Links
http://www.loose-id.com/may-in-december.html#product_tabs_description
http://www.amazon.com/May-December-Dawn-Flemington-ebook/dp/B00RM9EKOE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1423270502&sr=1-1&keywords=May+in+December
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