Whatever He Needs
Publication date: August 24th 2021
Genres: Contemporary, LGBTQ+, New Adult, Romance
When both lovers have daddy issues, it gets complicated.
Heir to the McAllister Construction fortune, Liam is focused on maintaining the myth that he is exactly the son his father wants. When he falls for Dimmy—a heavily inked go-go dancer—he fears revealing the romance, certain it won’t go over well with his upper-crust family—especially his father, who seems obsessed with building a family legacy.
Dimmy’s father, Gregory, is bent on making Dimmy earn his keep by any means, no matter how unsavory. He puts his barely legal son to work dancing provocatively at the seedy bar he runs and finds Dimmy work on the side providing masseuse services—and more—to club clientele. Gregory has Dimmy twisted into believing he can do no better, and Dimmy does it all in hopes of a pat on the back from dad.
Though Liam is but a few years older, Dimmy sees him as a man who might take care of him as his callous father never has, and reluctantly lets his guard down. But Liam, though he’s falling hard and fast for Dimmy, still hides his blossoming relationship from his family. A crisis ensues when a clash between the two fathers’ business interests put Dimmy at serious risk.
When the right side of the tracks meets the oh-so-very wrong side, will Liam set his priorities straight in time to keep Dimmy from harm, or will fear shatter their lives?
**Whatever He Needs is a self-published rerelease of a book that released earlier this year (May 4th)
Dimmy follows me from room to room. Gradually, he loses himself to his interest in the intricate patterns of the wallpaper and fabrics and Mother’s unique design choices. He’s particularly enthralled by the billiards room that boasts, of course, a retro pool table. There’s also a jukebox and a full bar. There’s even a small dance floor.
“It’s like a mini, super-classy version of All the Feels. But no cube for me to dance on.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. “Would you like a beer?” I ask.
“Nah. I’m…uh, only nineteen.”
“Are you trying to tell me you follow all of society’s rules—like some choirboy?”
He shakes his head. “I stay away from drinking and drugs. They screwed up my mom real bad, and…well, I figure being high won’t do me any favors in the thinking department.” He knocks on the side of his head.
I hate it when he talks himself down this way. “Don’t sell yourself short. Just recognizing that drugs and alcohol affected your mother negatively—and making the decision to stay away from them—shows you’re an intelligent and disciplined person.”
Dimmy’s mouth falls open, and it occurs to me that nobody has ever told him that he’s made a reasonable decision in his life. But then he lets out a raucous spurt of laughter, as if I told him the world’s funniest joke. He steps out onto the tiny dance floor, parts his legs, and sticks out his ass. I can’t lie: the ensuing sensual performance affects me.
“This is what you like about me, isn’t it?” Dimmy slurs. He knows what he’s doing when he rolls his hips and shimmies his shoulders.
I know what he’s doing, as well: Dimmy is testing me. As he administers his test of my restraint, he doesn’t stare at the ceiling like he does at the club. He fixes his seductive gaze on me.
I shift my weight to hide my unwanted arousal. “Dimmy…”
He seems to expect this reaction. “You got me alone. Aren’t you gonna make your move?”
“No.” I don’t provide an explanation. “Let me show you to your bedroom.”
His eyebrows curve. “O-okay.”
My gut is screaming at me—demanding that I take Dimmy into my arms. But I refuse to do anything that will spook him. So I lead him to the stairs, and once we’re on the second floor, I select the bedroom that’s decorated all in creams. Tonight, Dimmy will fall asleep wrapped in virginal white sheets. All alone.
Surprisingly, the idea soothes me far more than it frustrates me. His eyes pop wide, and he releases a breath of relief from deep in his chest. And one more time, he begins to tremble. The unnerving events of the evening have caught up to him.
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children--all named after saints--and five nonpedigreed cats--all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don't ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.
Mia Kerick focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men within the boundaries of blossoming, supportive relationships. She believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. And Mia's stories are centered around a certain theme: even heroes can be sweet. Sweet, but not completely innocent.
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