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2012-03-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

Creators of Worlds: A New Take on an Ancient Legend

By G.R. Richards

Blurb

Haron and Wiskar have served Sky Holder as Creators of Worlds for millions of years, but their relationship has always been turbulent. Wiskar creates predators and scavengers like the wolf and the vulture, while Haron fashions gentler creatures like deer and rabbits. Though Haron is saddened to watch his creations hunted by predators, he can’t deny his attraction to Wiskar's strengths. Ready to return home and hoping Haron will leave with him, Wiskar challenges his partner to a test of individual strengths - but Haron has a different definition of victory than Wiskar, and this is one battle he’s determined not to lose.

Creators of Worlds is kind of a modern-ish adaptation of the Huron creation myth. It’s one part urban fantasy, one part ancient legend, one part gay romance, one part erotica. And, just in case you were wondering, YES there are talking loons. There are quite a few talking animals, come to think of it.

I wrote Creators of Worlds while spending a week at a friend’s cabin. He had a big book of Native American legends. There were a lot of creation stories, but I zeroed in on this one because it focused on two guys. Of course, in the creation myth these guys are twin brothers, one good and the other evil.

In my version, the men, whom I dub Haron and Wiskar, might not be brothers, but they certainly have the good versus evil dynamic going for them. Wiskar’s dead-to-the-world drunk when the story begins, and he lashes out at his partner in creation at every turn. Even so, Haron is attracted to him beyond reason.

But you know gay romance—bad boys are never really bad, now are they? They’re just misunderstood.

And the good guys? Well, they like to be bad once in a while too…

Creators of Worlds is available from Dreamspinner Press:

Guys growl for G.R. Richards Erotica

http://grrichards.webs.com

http://twitter.com/GRRerotica

Bring on the Magic!

2012-03-05T06:00:00.000-05:00

Neriah, the crown prince of Tazier, escapes his father’s deadly wrath with the help of a Jinn named Tamir. Knowing that the other Jinn would find and punish him for falling in love with a human, Tamir takes Neriah’s memories of their brief time together and leaves him with only a jade pendant as a token of his love. Tamir is then stripped of his powers and imprisoned for his crime.

Ten years later, Neriah is still on the run from the King’s assassins, but each night he dreams of a lover whose face he cannot see and whose name he does not know, but who fills his heart with peace. Tamir, freed at last from his prison cell, poses as a pleasure slave and offers to serve the prince. Although Neriah does not recognize Tamir, he falls in love with the powerless Jinn. But just when Tamir has earned Neriah’s trust, he is forced to betray it. There may be no hope of mending their broken relationship, but Tamir is determined to see Neriah on his rightful throne—even if it costs the Jinn his life.

I’ve always been a sucker for a good story about magical beings—sorcerers, wizards, witches, genies, and the like. So when I started writing gay romance, it was pretty much a no-brainer that my first book would incorporate both the magic and the romance. But I wanted to do something different. Something that hadn’t been done much.

A friend and fellow writer, Venona Keyes, suggested a “sand fic” ala “The Arabian Nights,” and the first thing I thought of were genies, or “Jinn.” With my friend’s help, I wrote a short story as a birthday present for a fellow writer, “The Prince and the Jinn.” It was a sweet story reminiscent of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” but with a gay twist. That story was the inspiration for my long novella: “The Dream of a Thousand Nights.”

“Dream” is my own personal fantasy. I totally admit it! Neriah, the handsome, tortured Prince of Tazier, is nearly killed by his father’s men and his mother gives up her life so that he can live. Tamir, the Jinn who falls completely and utterly in love with Neriah, is stripped of his powers for loving a human by the other Jinn. The story is written like a fairy tale, features plenty of sex, and a powerful force that intervenes to separate the lovers and threatens to destroy the sweet, sometimes naïve Tamir. There is a slave/dubcon element that runs throughout the story and plenty of angst to go around. Oh, and of course, my only prerequisite for a romance: a sweet HEA.

“The Dream of a Thousand Nights” is available on Dreamspinner Press’s website and at most other ebook outlets such as Amazon and All Romance. It comes in at about 45K words and 206 pages, just shy of “novel length,” so it’s a pretty substantial read for a novella. It was nominated for several Goodreads M/M Romance Group Best of 2011 awards, including “Best Cover (Anne Cain),” “Best Slave/Dubcon/Kidnapped,” and “Best Overall Book.”

– Shira Anthony

Excerpt: Chapter One

Forgotten

NERIAH ran down the narrow passageway between the hedgerows, stumbling over roots and rocks. His bare feet were now bloody, but he knew that he could not stop. The guards who pursued him had but one goal in mind: his death. His eyes burned with unshed tears at the memory of what he had seen as he fled his room in the palace. He swore under his breath that he hadn’t had the presence of mind to grab his sword. He was unarmed. Vulnerable.

Why are they trying to kill me? What have I done to warrant this? Why would Father-?

“Over here!” shouted one of the men.

He could hear footsteps close behind—the guards would soon overtake him. He brushed his long dark hair from his eyes and threw off the silk jacket he wore, tossing it under one of the large bushes. He followed this by removing his shirt and the silk scarf around his head—the bright fabrics were too visible. He pulled the gold earring from his ear and struggled to remove the rings from his fingers, shoving them into his pockets as he continued to run, panting, toward the high wall that surrounded the palace.

I have to get over the wall, he thought as his lungs began to ache from the strain of running for so long. At least on the outside, I have a chance.

The wall loomed above him now with its smooth, white stone, and he looked around in desperation, trying to spot something upon which to gain a foothold. And then he saw it—a climbing rose, ancient and knotty, unyielding. It stretched up against the wall, attaching itself tenaciously to the grooves between the stones. Beneath it on the ground were yellowing rose petals, the remnants of early summer now left to decay. He ran toward the vine just as the palace guards had spotted him.

“There he is!” one called to the others, pointing toward the garden wall.

Neriah grabbed the gnarled stem of the ancient rose, ignoring the pain of its thorns as they dug into his soft hands. He clambered up, clutching one of the smaller branches that climbed high above the garden. The branch bent with his weight, and he began to fall backward, managing at the last moment to get hold of another branch and steady himself. He felt his knees burn against the smooth stone as he struggled upward, reaching the top of the wall. Winded, bloodied, his face covered in dirt, he stood at the top and looked back at the palace, its deep blue and gold turrets silhouetted against the sky.

Mother, he thought as he fought back tears, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I promise I’ll avenge your death.

One of the pursuing guards began to climb the rose after him, causing the old vine to shudder and shake beneath the man’s weight. Neriah looked down at the street below. Several vendors had set up their stalls beneath where he stood, their booths covered with bright fabrics attached to simple wooden poles. There were more shouts from behind him in the garden as he teetered on the edge, trying to find a spot to land.

They’ll kill you if you stay, he reminded himself as he looked at the tops of the stalls and wished that they weren’t so far down.

He saw his mother’s face in his mind’s eye, recalling her battered body on the marble floor and the lifeless glaze of her eyes. They had been looking for him—he was sure of it—and she had refused to tell them where he was. Her sacrifice had saved his life. She wanted you to live, he told himself. He frowned and, gathering his courage, jumped.

“IS HE dead?” came a voice at the periphery of his consciousness.

“No. I fixed his body. He’s just asleep, Kuri,” replied a second voice, deeper than the first. “Bring me the blanket.”

“You’ll be banished for saving him, you know,” said the first voice. “We can’t help humans. Not unless we’re commanded.”

“I won’t let him die here,” answered the second voice. “Just bring me the blanket. Now.”

He heard the sound of footsteps, then felt strong hands tucking something warm around his aching body. He struggled back to consciousness and looked up into a pair of amber eyes that sparkled like sunlight and reminded him of the finest jewels his mother wore. The thought of his mother made his heart ache, but something in the compassionate gaze of those almond-shaped eyes put him at ease, and he felt the pain begin to recede.

“Don’t try to speak,” said the young man who leaned over him. “You must rest for now. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here.”

HE AWOKE again to absolute darkness. He struggled to sit up, panicked that the guards had found him. He imagined himself in the dungeons below the palace, his arms bound to his sides. But as the haze of sleep and exhaustion began to clear, he realized that his arms were held at his sides by the blanket that was wrapped around him.

“Please,” he whispered into the blackness. His voice was hoarse, his mouth parched. He felt himself pulled upward, and gentle fingers brushed his matted hair from his face.

“It’s all right,” came the reply. It was the same warm, high baritone he had heard before—the voice, Neriah guessed, of a young man. “Your body has been mended. But you haven’t had anything to eat or drink since I found you two days ago.” He felt the coldness of metal pressed to his mouth, the cool liquid soothing to his dry lips. “Don’t drink it too fast. Your body won’t tolerate it.” He slowed his gulps and relaxed, allowing his weak body to be supported.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding less rough.

“Can you sit on your own?” the young man asked.

“I think so,” he answered as he found the wall behind him and rested his weight against it.

He heard footsteps, then the sound of a small oil lamp being lit. He blinked to focus on his companion, who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen—his own age. “I am Tamir,” replied the young man, whose hair was a deep red in the lamplight. He wore simple cotton clothing—the shalvar kameez of a peasant—and his long hair was tied in a high ponytail with a piece of green fabric. Neriah found himself captivated by the exotic beauty of the boy.

“Tamir,” Neriah repeated, “you’ve been very kind to me.”

The edges of Tamir’s mouth turned upward in a tender smile. “When I found you at the edge of the market, I feared you were dead,” he said.

“I am called…,” Neriah hesitated, afraid to reveal his true name, “Sheva.” He hated to lie to his savior, but his fear was great, both for his own safety as well as Tamir’s.

“I’m pleased to have met you, Sheva,” Tamir replied, sitting cross-legged in front of Neriah. “Do you think you can eat?”

Neriah nodded, feeling his belly complain. Tamir handed him a small flatbread. Neriah tore a piece of the bread and began to eat it with relish. “I’m sorry I cannot offer you more,” Tamir said, pleased to see his companion’s fine appetite. “Perhaps tomorrow—”

“You needn’t apologize,” Neriah interrupted, gazing at his rescuer. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done for me.”

“Were you being chased?” Tamir asked as Neriah continued to eat the bread. “I heard that you were atop the palace wall—that you fell.”

“I…,” Neriah began, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell the other boy the truth—that he was a prince, that he had done nothing wrong, and that his mother had died to save his life—but he found himself oddly tongue-tied. Despite his unease, he felt a strange sense of peacefulness radiate from his companion.

“It’s all right,” Tamir said, “you needn’t tell me anything. I’ve been in a fair number of fights myself. Kuri said the Royal Guards were searching the marketplace.”

Neriah coughed on the bread, having inhaled a bit of it in his alarm at the news. Tamir put his hand on Neriah’s back and, with a deft flick of his wrist, hit Neriah between the shoulder blades. The piece of bread on which Neriah had choked flew out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Sheva,” said Tamir, looking wretched, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m fine, Tamir,” Neriah replied as he tried to calm his racing heart. “I guess I just ate a bit too fast for my own good.” Their eyes met, and Neriah took in the strong lines of Tamir’s jaw, noting the soft indentation of his cheek and the dimples at the edges of his mouth. He is beautiful, he thought, admiring the ethereal quality of Tamir’s eyes. His next thought was one of grief and self-reproach. How could you even think such a thing at a time like this? He felt tears threaten and clenched his jaw. He would not show weakness to anyone, let alone a stranger. He was, he reminded himself, still a prince.

“Something is wrong,” Tamir ventured, noticing Neriah’s hard expression. “Those men. Why were they after you, Sheva?”

Neriah wiped his eyes and frowned. “I… I stole something from them,” he lied as he forced the image of his dead mother from the forefront of his mind. “They chased after me. I thought they would kill me.” He looked at his hands and said nothing more. A lie and the truth. He hoped it would suffice as an explanation of how he had come to be injured.

Neriah needn’t have worried, for Tamir replied, “You don’t have to tell me more. You should rest. Tomorrow, when you are stronger, you can make your way out of the city, if you wish.”

Neriah studied the other boy’s face for a moment. If he’d wanted to turn me in, he would have done so by now, he thought. Still, he hesitated. Why would this boy—this commoner—wish to help him?

“I promise no harm will come to you while you sleep,” Tamir added, as if he had read Neriah’s mind. The effect of these words upon Neriah was almost magical. Neriah knew, in that instant, that Tamir spoke the truth. Too tired to argue with himself over the wisdom of this blind trust, Neriah just said, “Thank you,” and lay down upon the makeshift pillow once more.

NERIAH awoke sometime later, Tamir’s body pressed against his own, warm and comforting. Without thinking, he wrapped his hands around the young man’s chest, burying his head against Tamir’s back, desperate to think of something other than the dangerous future that awaited him outside these walls. He heard Tamir sigh, and he released Tamir from the embrace, afraid that he had overstepped the boundaries of their newfound friendship.

It was then that Tamir rolled over and reached for Neriah. Neriah could smell the other boy’s sweet fragrance, which called to mind jasmine and spices. They lay that way for the longest time, neither of them speaking. “I haven’t been truthful with you,” Neriah admitted, “I—”

“Shhh,” Tamir replied, pressing his fingertips to Neriah’s soft lips. “I do not need to know. I just wish I could ease your pain.”

The lamp, which had been burning since Tamir had lit it hours before, now guttered and died. Neriah reached for Tamir and ran lithe fingers through his crimson hair. It felt like silk in Neriah’s hands. “I am sorry to have put you through this,” he said. “I don’t deserve such—” But his words were cut short this time, not by Tamir’s fingers but by his lips, pressed against Neriah’s.

Neriah felt his pulse quicken. The kiss broke and Neriah began, “Tamir, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Tamir interrupted. “I should not have touched you. I beg your forgiveness.”

Neriah opened his mouth to speak, to tell Tamir that he had done nothing wrong, that he wanted this too. Instead, he kissed the redhead. He had never lain with another man before, but his need to possess those full lips was so great that he found he could not help himself.

Their kiss deepened, and Neriah’s desire for the young man beside him grew. His hands sought the smooth skin of Tamir’s chest of their own accord. He felt the hard muscle beneath the warm skin and, in the darkness, he kissed Tamir’s shoulder. He heard Tamir gasp in pleasure as Neriah’s hands probed beneath the boy’s cotton shalvar, and he felt Tamir’s hardness grow beneath his fingers.

“Sheva,” whispered Tamir, pulling Neriah’s hands away, “Please… let me pleasure you.”

Neriah tried to protest, but Tamir’s gentle lips met his own, and Neriah found that he had no will to resist him. Tamir pulled Neriah’s pantaloons away, tracing Neriah’s body with his fingers. Neriah felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the other boy’s touch. None of the women he had lain with had ever touched him in this way, nor had he responded to them so powerfully, despite their beauty. “Please,” he moaned, as Tamir began to cover his body with feathery kisses. He could not think—he didn’t want to think—he just wanted to forget the ache in his heart.

“Let me take away your pain, Sheva,” Tamir said, finding Neriah’s hard length and kissing it. Neriah inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. It was at once the sweetest and most stunning revelation of Neriah’s young life—not the fact that it was a man pleasuring him thus, but that he could feel anything so overwhelming, so wonderful, even as his heart grieved.

How does he know? Neriah wondered. And yet the truth was plain—Tamir understood the depth of his pain and his need.

When he thought he could stand it no longer, that his release would come at Tamir’s warm lips, Tamir freed him from his mouth and clasped his arms around him. Neriah, overcome, claimed Tamir’s lips once more and they held each other. And in that brief moment, Neriah knew he would never know anything as warm and reassuring as Tamir’s arms.

“Let me guide you,” Tamir whispered, licking his hand and taking Neriah’s erection in it. Neriah, understanding what was to come, did not protest, but moved to press against the tight place between Tamir’s buttocks. What followed was pure bliss, and Neriah’s sorrow evaporated as he lost himself in the warmth of his companion. Tamir’s soft skin was more beautiful than any woman’s, the way his body molded to Neriah’s like the most sensual of kisses. Neriah knew that Tamir, too, shared the same joy as he, for Tamir’s cries of pleasure mingled with Neriah’s own in the dark stillness of the night.

“Why would you do this for me?” Neriah heard himself say afterward, his breath ragged with release.

“Because I could,” came the answer, along with the arms that encircled him in blissful warmth.

“But you know nothing about me. You owe me nothing,” Neriah persisted, uncomprehending.

“But I do know you, beloved,” Tamir replied, his voice like the sigh of the wind through an orange grove in Neriah’s ear. “You are kind and brave and strong. It is the least I could do for you.”

Still entwined, the two boys fell asleep, Neriah’s head against Tamir’s chest.

Tamir awoke at daybreak and, for the longest time, just watched Neriah sleep. His eyes traveled along the prince’s well-defined jaw to his high cheekbones, following the hollow of his cheeks to the slender nose and dark eyebrows. Unable to contain himself, Tamir traced his fingers over Neriah’s graceful lips for a moment, then reached to pull a narrow gold chain from around his own neck. Dangling from the chain was a jade pendant, etched with a depiction of the moon and two stars. He fingered the pendant for a moment, and his eyes filled with tears.

“I cannot come with you, my Prince,” he said with great tenderness as he kneeled over the sleeping Neriah and placed the chain around his neck. “But perhaps, when you sleep, you will dream of me.”

He touched his hand to Neriah’s forehead and whispered, “Now, forget me.”

Magic, Mages and Werewolves, oh my!

2012-03-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

The very first story I ever wrote was supposed to be a straight contemporary. I’d heard horror stories of authors not doing their research properly, and I decided to stick with writing what I knew. Things I could see, touch, understand. I was only into Chapter Two when a ghost turned up and hijacked the book. By the time I was writing book two, and another ghost appeared, I was ready for it, and just went with the flow. After all, paranormals are a lot more fun. It’s not at all surprising I got hooked on werewolves. And when it came to Septimus and Dai, magic, mages, wizards, and all those sorts of things, immediately followed.

Magicians, sorcerers, wizards, enchanters, have been part of fiction since medieval times, maybe longer. Who hasn’t thrilled to a story of Merlin and Arthurian legends. I read Mary Stewart’s “The Crystal Cave” as a child and I don’t think I moved out of my chair at all until I’d finished reading the entire series!

Ursula le Guin’s “A Wizard of Earthsea”, was one of the few books I was told to read for school that I actually enjoyed. (Another was a biography of Queen Elizabeth I of England, but more of that in Ladies’ Month.)

And more recently? Think of the popularity of Gandalf in Lord of the Rings, and the outrage (SPOILER ALERT!) when something happened to Harry Potter’s Dumbledore.

There’s just something that tugs at a reader’s psyche, when it comes to magic.

Blurb:

Septimus, is sent to a pack across the country to see if they have a solution to why almost no females have been born into his pack in over 30 years.

As soon as he walks into the meeting room he smells his mate. The lust between them is instant and fierce. By day they try to solve the problem of the gender imbalance, by night they f*ck each other's brains out.

Septimus finally gets a lead as to why there may be no females born in his pack. An old man, Arthur, remembers a wizard threatening to curse his pack. Septimus and Arthur speak to a very old woman, Richenda who gives them some trails to follow.

Septimus’ duty is to help his pack. But he’d much rather be in bed with Dai. And is the situation even solvable anyway?

Magic and mages are central to this story. I began by wanting to write an MM werewolf book, but I needed there to be a reason why these werewolves, so incredibly Alpha, were gay.

I can’t give away the climax of the book, but I certainly can tell you that magic and mages are wound through it, inextricably entangled in the lives of one or more of the werewolves.

In stories, I find the potential of the paranormal fascinating. I have several other werewolf books, and also several stories with ghosts. This was the first time a mage insisted in getting involved in a book of mine.

This book, “Were the Hell?” just seemed to go in a different direction from my other werewolf stories. In each of the other two books the two men were more involved in sorting out their lives and relationship, wondering whether a future together was even possible. In “Dogged Pursuit” there are extra touches of the paranormal when Dwyer has to turn to save an elderly couple, even though he hasn’t quite gotten around to explaining to Nelson that he’s a werewolf. But nothing as magical as in “Were the Hell?”. And “A Little Light Loving” is all about the two men’s relationship and Dillon’s mistrust of werewolves. Trust is the issue between Cord and Dillon. But if you want magic with your werewolves, the book to read is “Were the Hell?”

Oh, and if you want to find out more about “Dogged Pursuit” and “A Little Light Loving”, you’ll just have to come back in April for paranormal month!

Excerpt:

Septimus had sometimes wondered if he'd only ever been sexually attracted to other males because there were so few younger females in his pack, and the few there were didn't light his fire. But the minute he walked into the meeting room with the weres from the Forest Hill pack, he knew he was genuinely, one hundred percent gay. He could smell his mate.

His cock stood up and fought to get out of his jeans, stretching the fabric so tight that he was going to have blue balls for a week. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck were also standing straight up. His skin tingled, electrified with sexual arousal. And the scent of his mate was overpowering him, dragging him into the room with almost physical force.

His nose led him unerringly to his mate: a tall, lean man of about thirty, with tanned brown skin, dark brown hair, and liquid chocolate eyes. Those eyes were staring at him, the man's strong nose was flared smelling his scent and from the huge bulge in his pale cargo pants, the man was every bit as aware of him as he was of Mr. Tall, Tan, and Delectable.

As Septimus walked across the room, his cock leading the way, the man moved to meet him. Their gazes were locked, and Septimus was totally oblivious to everyone else in the room and the task he'd been sent to do. He was about to put out his hand when the other man reached him and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in for a hard, body-blending hug.

"I'm Dai. We're mates." The words were harsh, bitten off, said almost as a challenge.

"Septimus. I know."

The Alpha of the Forest Hill pack stood just a few feet away. He coughed, cleared his throat, then said, "Gentlemen, let's get this meeting underway. Dai, you should sit next to Septimus, not in your usual place."

So even the Alpha smelled their attraction. That certainly proved he was not being misled by his cock. Damn! His dick had never been this big before. If only he could undo his jeans and give it some room before it broke his zipper.

Want a copy of “Were the Hell?” Go here:

Berengaria Brown

http://berengariasblog.blogspot.com/

http://berengariabrown.webs.com/

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Ending the month with a Masquerade!

2012-02-29T06:00:00.003-05:00

Hi Carson,

I am so excited to be included on your blog. I stopped in today to bloviate about my new book “The Slave’s Mask” which is book two of “The Masquerade Trilogy”. Okay, I won’t bloviate. I’ll just tell you a little about it. It takes place in 1863 during the American Civil War, though most of the story takes place in London. I like BDSM and if you have read any of my books, there is a little sprinkling of bondage through most of them.

“The Slave’s Mask” has more than most. I would classify it as a historical BDSM book. In “Slave”, one of my characters is a man who has the need to dominate other men during sex and in the time period that this book takes place, not only is homosexual a term that is taboo but BDSM would be thought of as deviant or perverse, most certainly.

I’ve read many books with elements from mild to extreme in their use of BDSM and I will admit to you, dear readers, more than one made me extremely uncomfortable. A wide variety of people enjoy the odd use of handcuffs or being tied to the bed and “forced” to submit as long as the players are consenting adults and the parties agree. There are many more extreme forms that have me wiggling on the chair, and not in a good way. “Slave” is not extreme in its use of domination and submission but it is a clear theme and most of my character’s bed play, involves BDSM in one form or another.

The theme throughout this story is the clear need of one character to dominate and the need of one character to submit to his “Master”. With both of these men, it is a “need” that they explore together and the balance that they find which is a perfect blend for these two men. I enjoy the journey of two men finding their way to love in a relationship, especially when one craves something but doesn’t really understand that this is a clear “need”. In this case, my submissive, “Slave” doesn’t even realize the need to be dominated and he must be led. It isn’t so much the arrival at the end, but the journey to get there and I just enjoy as an author, taking you there. I hope that I’ve done a good job for you and that you enjoy “The Slave’s Mask”.

EXCERPT:

“Bend over the bed and spread your legs. Accept your plug.” Master ordered. Slave moved to obey, still unsteady on his feet. Master noted that he trembled with fear. He moved away, walking to the sideboard and opened several drawers, removing an object. He knew that the minute he walked away, Slave’s terror would ramp up. There was a special bond between Slave and Master and it was the Master’s place to set the tone in their relationship. He had the responsibility to make sure that his Slave was well cared for but not at the expense of his absolute submission. He opened the bed table drawer bringing out the jar of cream he would need and then moved in behind Slave. He placed his left hand on the small of Slave’s trembling back. His hot red ass, blushed beautifully after his spanking.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Slave.” He bent to reassure the young man, knowing that as his towering form surrounded Slave’s back, his body would be very intimidating to the vulnerable sub. “I am going to insert a plug into your back hole. It will stretch you and it will hurt at first but you will become accustomed to it. You will stay aroused because it will press upon your gland, deep within and you will be ready for me whenever I desire you, stretched to accommodate me.” He felt his small sub shudder beneath him, but to his credit, the man didn’t utter a sound, not so much as a whimper. “Have you ever had a plug before, Slave?”

“No, Master,” came the shaky reply.

“Good, then I will be the first to do this to you, along with many other things that I have planned for the week.” He knew how smug he sounded and he waited for, and was rewarded by a tiny shiver. He ran both hands from the small of Slave’s back down to the blushing tight globes of his ass. He massaged them for a moment, drawing a whimper and then Master, separated the cheeks with his two very large hands. At the first glimpse of Slave’s tight hole, he went rock hard beneath his silky robe. “Ahh, you are very beautiful my Slave,” he growled.

“Thank you, Master,” came the muffled answer.

Master let go of the young Slave’s ass cheeks and picked up the plug that he had selected. It was curved at one end, designed to press constantly against the young man’s prostate and larger than the dildo he had used on Slave the night before. He had selected it for its size to stretch Slave for his own cock. Though Master was longer and thicker than any of the glass phalluses in the velvet box, he still knew that a man of his size would most certainly hurt a small man like Slave if he wasn’t very careful with him, and he had no desire to damage his beautiful cherub.

Master opened the jar of cream and spread a liberal amount all over his fingers and then slipped a finger into the crack of Slave’s ass. Slave jumped, probably because of the cold against the heated flesh. Master found Slave’s tiny hole and massaged it for only a moment before inserting it, sliding it deeply within as he told Slave to breathe easy and relax. He heard a tiny moan as he worked Slave’s hole, thrusting more deeply as he prepared him for the plug. Slave’s entire body began blushing and Master loved the sight of it. He ran a practiced palm up and over Slave’s bottom as he inserted a second finger. Slave gasped and Master leaned in and kissed the globe, he’d just been touching.

“It’s all right my pretty slave. You will take whatever I give you because you know it pleases me. You also know that I will push you to take more and more. Soon you will be begging for a good hard fucking. I have a large cock, Slave, and it will be hard for you to take, but take it, you will.” Slave moaned as Master scissored his fingers inside his back passage, opening him up as he gave him an internal massage. A few minutes later, Slave was riding the fingers. Master smiled to himself and slipped in a third, stretching him wide.

“Master!” Slave gasped. “Too much! It’s too much! Ahhh…”

“It’s not too much. You will take what I give you and though it may hurt, your pain brings me pleasure, so you will endure it,” Master growled low.

“Ahh, ahh, mmm… yes, Master,” Slave groaned quietly. He writhed on the bed in front of Master and began humping the sheets below.

Time to menage a cowboy!

2012-02-27T06:00:00.003-05:00

Thank you Carson for having me today to guest blog on your blog, Gus Who Like Romance!

We’re celebrating Valentine’s Day this month on the blog and that means all those sweet packages, BDSM, and a few little ménages. Which is why I am here to talk about one of my all time favorite books, Heart of a Cowboy. It features three of the hottest men I ever wrote about, a sexy shifter, an Indian shaman, and a wannabe cowboy named Derek.

For those that don’t know me, I’m Missy Lyons and writer erotic romance. I have been published for about six years now but have really been enjoying writing gay characters in my last few books. One of last romances released is a gay ménage with one of my all time favorite characters to write, Derek in Heart of a Cowboy.

But I wanted to say why Derek is one of my favorite characters when I’ve written about hundreds of people. You see like most of us, Derek isn’t perfect and neither is his family. He has a mother in a mental hospital and has therefore spent most of his childhood in foster care, and being gay made it especially hard to fit in with the other kids. Eventually he found it easier to live on the streets than to suffer the constant abuse and sexual exploitation. At least he had control of his life on the streets—or so he thought.

After learning more about him (because he was constantly in my head talking to me) I needed to see Derek got his happily ever after. He had to see life got better than living on the streets, and I believed love was the only road to get there.

Just a quick little something about the book:

Derek is only working for a month to pay off his debt to Jessie, but not everyone likes his openly homosexual lifestyle. He knows what it feels like to be beaten to within an inch of his life so he doesn't give a rat's ass what people think.

The attraction between him and the hunky Indian Ishwar is instantly satisfying. He finds himself begging for more every second he is near him, but when he falls into the arms of a stranger, things only begin to heat up, until an unforeseen peril puts him in danger.

Derek must prove he has the heart of a cowboy, and it will take every ounce of love and strength in his heart to make it through this ordeal alive.

*****

Please enjoy this excerpt from Heart of a Cowboy. Derek has just been bailed out of prison and this is his first day on the ranch.

Derek looked around the small room. It was small by anyone’s standards, barely large enough to hold the bunk beds and a chest of drawers, but it was his. He was lucky enough he wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone else. It felt good to claim the space as his.

“Can’t believe Jesse didn’t bring your clothes.” Luke shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “I know that boy has better manners than that. I helped raise him right. He should have dropped by your house to pick up your clothes before he came over here. I’ll take you home this evening if you want.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I told him not to bother.” Derek wasn’t going to admit he was too embarrassed to allow Jesse to see where he lived or how bad his neighborhood was. He would just get his stuff later, if he bothered to go home at all. Better to be thought of as homeless than to go back now. “I don’t have a home to go home to.”

“All right, I’m going to let that lie for now, but it’s okay to accept help when you need it. Around here, we like to think of each other as family.”

“Not me. I am more like the distant relative just passing through.”

“You might be surprised. You may find you like it here enough to call it home.”

“Maybe.” Derek didn’t want to argue with the old man, but he knew better than to try to think he belonged.

“Well, come along. I’ll give you the grand tour.” Luke motioned for him to follow, walking out of the small room down the long hallway, past many doors. Derek peered inside to find rooms similar to his, each with a bunk bed and a dresser. The only difference being they were lived in, and covered with pictures and personal items, not bare walls.

There was an office midway through, with a blond cowboy sitting behind the desk. He looked like he could be a twin to Jesse, with his large muscle-covered frame and those brooding blue eyes.

“Hey, Beau! Got a new boy to add to the payroll.” Luke spread his arm wide.

Derek couldn’t get over how similar the two looked. “You related to Jesse?”

“Hell no! Least not till he marries my sister, Angela.” He gave a playful wink to Derek and reached out to shake his hand. “Now who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

Funny, but Angela and this man didn’t look alike at all. Angela was clearly of some Asian descent and this guy couldn’t be any whiter. “Derek’s my name, sir.”

“Yeah, I heard about you. Call me Beau. I handle the books around here, and Jesse talked to me about the situation. Once you work off your debt, I hope you will consider staying. We could use another strong man around here. Jesse keeps talking about expanding his territory and increasing the head of cattle, but he needs more hired hands first.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was one thing to pay back what he owed, but he couldn’t imagine living here for good. He doubted he’d be welcomed that long. He had moved from home to home as a kid because his foster parents would never accept him as he was. They called him damaged goods. When they tried to change him into something he wasn’t, he acted out in more ways than one, taking self-destructive paths that ultimately led him to the group home downtown, and that dead end led to running away to hit the streets.

****

Heart of a Cowboy is available from Siren Publishing and other ebook distributors

To read more or pick up your copy please visit Book Strand

If you are interested in learning more about Missy Lyons you can visit her website here

Twitter: @missylyons Facebook:

Thank you for having me out today Carson. I really appreciate the opportunity to share about Heart of a Cowboy!

Lots of love,

Missy Lyons

Evrain stands out of the group!

2012-02-24T06:00:00.001-05:00

A Valentine for Evrain, is one of my favorite pieces. I wrote it in one sitting. He was such a determined and damaged character, I found his voice irresistible, dark and even cruel. I wasn’t sure it would be accepted to the Never Say Never Anthology but it was. The theme was “never say never to love” and so I found Evrain, or Evrain found me and he told his story. Love is not for him, but, oddly, he runs a small town chocolate shop where he not only seduces the locals but heals the broken hearted with his wares. He may not believe in love but his chocolate knows better.

I have read Evrain aloud at several live events and even read from it in a live web interview and have always found the audience receptive. There is a little S&M mixed into the sexuality of the story but it’s what was being told to me, I had to tell his story. Evrain is part of a collection about love and the power of hardened hearts finding love; he may be the hardest heart of all but…as we all do…he melts eventually and at the hands of a hot Latin lover. Boy, have I been, and continue to be there. Although not my most popular work, A Valentine for Evrain has a special place in my heart. It is honest, harsh and a little brutal, and aren’t those the things that make love complex, yummy and keeps us wanting more?

Blurb: Evrain runs a chocolate store in a small town and is not above using the storefront for hot encounters with local guys. But love is definitely not in the cards, at least until he meets Ambrosio. The Sexy Latino soon teaches Evrain a lesson in love that neither man will soon forget.

A Valentine for Evrain (Part of the Never Say Never Anthology)

also available in PRINT and Soon on AUDIO

Excerpt:
There was this assistant principal: sweet-lipped, early thirties, whose unconscious habit of wearing tight pants caught not only the interest of the town’s conservative population but mine as well, both for entirely different reasons. But I knew I'd bend him and, boy did I. He came in searching for something one night after school. He looked wild-eyed, caged; I know what a man wants when he looks that way. He said he was originally from the city, his eyes shifting hungrily, as if consuming the exotic spread of the store. I watched him inhale the sweet caramel smell of chocolate, cinnamon, lavender, and me. He did not know he wanted it, didn't know what it was that made his hands grip the counter, but I knew.

"I'm heading over to see this girl." His eyes scanned the counter top, the various chocolates underneath teasing him. "I thought she'd like something, thought it'd be gentlemanly."

I remember nodding, thinking, yeah, yeah I have heard it before, drop and give me 20. Instead I just smiled, cut two slices of dark-chocolate ginger bark and handed one to him. Ginger makes one think hard about heat, lust, fucking. I ate my piece and watched for his reaction. We both started to sweat. I wiped the back of my neck, and he grabbed a napkin from a stack on the counter and swiped it across his forehead. There is nothing hotter than watching a man submit to the unknown. I have heard that the thrill of skydiving is not so much in the jump, but in the fall.

"You ever skydive?" I asked him, as he began pacing my tiny sugar-infused domain. He didn't answer just kept sucking on the bark, his teeth gnawing at the confection as if it held the answer to the question I had just asked; the tight khakis revealed his erection. I could see the confusion in his face. He didn't know why he was hard. He looked down, betrayed by his body’s reaction. He knew I was staring and turned away; this only gave me a better view of what I wanted most. His ass was round, full, sensual for a man's body. I knew he’d never had anyone do anything to it. I spit a piece of ginger into the trash, reached down, and felt my own stiffening monster. I knew I'd fuck him the minute I laid eyes on him months before. He could pretend, pace, sweat—it was all gonna come down to one fateful moment: one push over the edge, falling, spiraling downward into a delicious oblivion. He would move back to the city, of course. He would learn he could not get what he really wanted from this place. I remember laughing at that moment, and his angry reaction.

"You think it's funny?" He spat, the ginger was working. "You think I like working in this shit hole. Small towns, small-minded backwards…"

"Hey there, this is my home you're talking about," I arched an eyebrow and reached for another piece of the bittersweet, dark-chocolate, ginger bark, "small minds, and all."

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Valentine's Day in Vegas? Hell yeah!

2012-02-22T06:00:00.003-05:00

Hi everyone!

Jaxx Steele here again to wish you all a Happy Valentine’s Day season. I for one like Valentine’s Day. I have heard many reasons on how the holiday came to be. Some say the day is a conspiracy made by the candy company to suck money out of people. Others say its conception came from honoring a gruesome massacre that happened somewhere. I think that’s kind of creepy that you would buy gifts for your loved ones to remember a day where so many were killed, but *shrugs* to each his own, right?

Anyway, I don’t care where the idea came from. I like to think some extremely busy guy was slacking on putting in the time needed to keep his lover happy came up with a special day he could put on his calendar and have his secretary remind him to go big with the gifts. LOL Either way I love it.

I love it so much that I wrote 3 Valentine’s stories. The other stories are, A Yeah-long Valentine (part of Dreamspinner Press Reflections of Love anthology) and Claiming Cupid (Silver Publishing) but today I will be focusing on my latest, Vegas Valentine.

Vegas Valentine is a sequel to my Christmas story, Hosting for the Holidays so it brings back my May-December couple Hector and Chad. This story gives a flash back on how they met and how Hector tries to make good on a promise he made Chad in Hosting for the Holidays. They are in Las Vegas for Valentine’s Day when they weren’t supposed to be. Neither of them are prepared for the day and have to make quick adjustments, but what better place to be when you have to come up with quick gifts!

This book became a reality by accident. Hosting for the holidays takes place from Christmas Eve to New Years Eve. When that story line was completed I thought I was done, but Hector had other plans. When he made the promise to Chad in Hosting he wanted the readers to know that he made good on his promise. Vain, right! Anyway, my fist thought was to like throw together a little mini thing and make it a free read. Again, Hector wouldn’t shut up so it got way too long for that and boom! Vegas Valentine was born.

*shaking my head*
Dag-gone shame how these characters run me sometimes, I tell you.

So, without further delay…Vegas Valentine!

Hector and Chad are back!

Hector gets a chance to combine work with pleasure while in Las Vegas. He imagines a fabulous little getaway when business is complete, but when his work seminar threatens to ruin his plans, Hector has to come up with an idea to make Valentine's Day a day Chad will never forget.

Excerpt:

Chad walked in the door and Hector all but pounced on him. He lifted him from the floor with a hug, swung him around then kissed him soundly in the mouth before putting him down again.

“Wow! Not that I care, but what was that for?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetheart, remember? That’s all the reason I need.”

Chad’s handsome features transformed from excited to distraught almost instantly.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry. I thought we would be home for Valentine’s since your seminars were supposed to be over before now. I’m afraid I left your present there,” he confessed sadly.

Hector kissed him again. “It’s okay, baby, the only gift I need is you in my arms.” He saw the relief in Chad’s face and smiled. “Now come, I made dinner.”

Chad let out a noise of mock shock. “You made dinner? Should I be afraid?” he asked, letting Hector pull him to the dinette area.

Hector laughed. “No, you shouldn’t. I did manage to feed myself for several years, darling, before you came into my life, you know.”

“Yes, but as soon as I came into your life you quickly relinquished the job to me,” Chad reminded him with a soft chuckle.

Hector snickered, but offered no further rebuttal. He sat Chad in one of the chairs at the table and lifted the silver lid from the plate in front of him with grand fan fare.

“Wow, it looks fantastic.”

Chad quickly sampled the food. Hector stood over him holding the lid against the table as he waited.

“Mmm, and it tastes wonderful. This has to be the best chicken parmesan I have ever had,” he praised.

Hector finally put the lid beside his plate and lifted his own. “Yes, well it’s just a little something I threw together,” Hector said humbly, finally taking the chair opposite him. “I just wanted to make sure dinner was especially good tonight.” He poured Chad a glass of red wine.

Chad lifted the glass and swirled the liquid within. “Oh yes, and it is. Is that why you got it from Perfecto Italiano?”

Hector’s jaw bobbed as he tried to speak, but no words came out. Chad’s eyes peered at him over his glass sparkling with mirth.

“What? No, what—“ He paused to clear his throat. “What makes you say that, Chad?” he asked, shifting his gaze to avoid making eye contact.

“Well, the fact that you have never made edible chicken parmesan since we’ve been together was my first clue. You always take me out for chicken parm because you know it’s my favorite and don’t want to mess it up.”

Hector blinked rapidly and lifted his own drink. “Yes, well—“

Chad held up a finger to stop him. “But the ticket in the lid was a dead giveaway," He finished tilting his finger to point at the lid.

Hector stared at him over his wine for a moment. “The ticket is still in the lid?”

Chad nodded with a grin. “Uh-huh.”

Hector pulled the silver dome to him and looked inside. “Damn. Who does that? You make the food, cover it then throw away the ticket. Not tape it to the inside,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Chad laughed. “You didn’t really think I’d believe you actually cooked this, did you, Daddy? You were putting a can of spinach on the eye of the stove to warm it up when we met,” he reminded him unable to hold back the chuckles that accompanied his reasoning.

Hector shrugged and sipped his drink. “Yeah, I knew it was going to be a stretch but I went for it anyway. I’m still going to take credit for this delicious feast. I picked it out, warmed it up and put it on the beautiful china courtesy of the New York-New York Hotel,” he expressed with a laughing grin, extending his hand across the table. “I did all the work. They just cooked it.”

“And you did a wonderful job. Presentation is a big part of the meal, too. Everything looks fabulous.” Chad patted his hand.

Hector gave him a raised brow look and they laughed again. “Well now that we are in agreement, let’s eat.”

A short while later, Chad dropped his fork and finished the last of his wine before sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

“That was great. You really made a marvelous choice.”

“You are too kind,” Hector said with a slight bow of his head. “I thank you, my love. Now it is time for dessert!” he announced, jumping to his feet.

Hector quickly gathered the dishes dumping them into the sink then returned from the kitchen with a smaller plate covered by a wide, black napkin.

“Did you get the dessert from Perfect Italiano, too?” Chad asked, excitement filling his voice.

“Nope. Some place totally different.”

“Really? Where?”

“This one is all me. Open it.” He leaned forward offering the tray to him with both hands.

Chad raised an eyebrow before leaning forward lifting the cloth dramatically from the lid. A small gasp left his lips as he dropped the top on the floor.

Until next time,

Jaxx Steele has left the building!

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Love is like a Dozen Donuts?

2012-02-20T06:00:00.008-05:00

Hello! Nice to be here on Guys Like Romance Too blog. *makes self comfortable* So today, I’m supposed to talk about why I wrote the story, Time to Make the Donuts and why I consider it a Valentine’s Day story even there there’s no mention of Valentine’s day.

Well I think of it like this, the title of my blog post is Life is Like Dozen Donuts instead of the famous line from Forrest Gump, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” To me, love is like a dozen donuts we get from the shop, we can pick and choose from many flavors. Some may be sweet, some not so much and even when you pick one you’re not satisfied with don’t you go back and try another kind? You might be a fan of a chocolate cake over glazed or powdered. Still, it seems you’ll go back and get another even though you’re not happy with your first choice.

Here’s a funny for you, I’m not the biggest fan of donuts but I do love to write romance. Since this is February, the month of love, my character, Christopher is seeking that partner. He’s been through several “bad donuts” and he sees one of the honey color variety walk into his shop. This is also book 2 of the Something New on the Menu Series. Why not write a book with love and something almost everyone likes?

During this month, we associate sweets like candy, cakes, etc with Valentine’s Day. Why not donuts? I’m sure there are some bakers who make heart shaped ones for the occasion.

There you go! See now the plot bunnies are screaming for me to give Christopher and his honey, Andre another short story, maybe I will, just for them.

So, what have we discussed today? How love is a wonderful thing, even more so in February and for us romance writers, we try our best to come up with a unique story for all readers to enjoy. I think I did. An interracial m/m romance involving something almost everyone loves.

Love is like a dozen donuts! You keep searching and trying them till you find one you like the most.

Blurb: Andre, a customer, comes in and pays him a visit. The two lock eyes and immediately connect on a personal level. Because of this, Christopher decides to pursue when Andre passes him his card. He wonders what the young man does for a living however, he’s so smitten by him, Chris doesn’t give it much thought.

Little does the shop owner know, Andre actually works for his biggest competitor as a secret shopper and has been told to use any method necessary to find out the secrets of the shop as well as convince him to sell his shop and become part of the national chain.

When Christopher finds out, he has a surprise for Andre and deals with him in a rather humorous way. Will he trust Andre once he finds out this fact? Will he give up his shop under the pressure the well-known franchise?

Excerpt

With the song Manic Monday by the Bangles playing on the overhead, Jesse stood behind the cashier Wanda, getting orders for customers while Christopher finished putting the third batch of donuts in the oven. The owner always felt better when the store officially opened for business making him forget about the lack of sleep he got from the night prior or the fact he’d been in the restaurant since two a.m.

He pushed the double doors open as he came from the kitchen, watching the customers lining up in front of the register. They were ready to give their morning rush orders of coffee and donuts or bagels. Others who had time sat at the long laminate counter waiting for one of the waitresses to take their requests. Bigger groups of people or those who liked to take in the atmosphere sat in booths to sample the diner’s finest delicacies. Part of the charm of Christopher’s place was it catered to everyone in some form or fashion while offering great service. Something he knew that other place could provide.

While waving at a couple of regulars, Christopher started to help Jesse bag a few orders. Unlike most owners, he always chipped in to help on the front lines regardless if it were busy or not.

Jesse smacked him on the shoulder. “Yo dude, you look like you haven’t sleep in weeks.” The husky redheaded woman poured a cup of coffee for a lady in front of her.

“Well thanks,” he frowned. “I’m still being bombarded by calls from that place to get me to sell. They won’t quit. Don’t they get the message?”

“Apparently not. They been callin’ ya at home?”

“No on the cell and all because that one girl that used to work here got employed by them. They thought by doing that, they’d be able to pick up some secrets or learn something new about me, or the restaurant. Didn’t they know I brainwash my former workers,” he laughed.

“You wish. You just don’t share anything important which is smart, now me on the other hand,” She cocked an eyebrow. “I could be an asset to someone if they swayed me to leave.”

Christopher stopped immediately and glared at her. “You’d never.”

She drew up her lips. Within seconds she guffawed and smacked him on the back pretty hard. “Babe, no, never. I’m just messin’ wicha. I’d never leave your side. I told you the day Jayson died I’d help you run the place till we couldn’t do it anymore and I meant it. You know I’m a rebel at heart. I couldn’t go anywhere and work for “the man” and feel comfortable. I ain’t wearin’ no suit and tie for nobody.”

Christopher choked a little from the slap and let out a small sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he’d do without Jesse if she left. Good thing she always had such a good sense of humor and because he liked her as his second in command, he vowed never to piss her off if he could help it. Yes, they’d had run-ins a couple of times over various decisions but he knew most of the time the two of them would come to an agreement in the end.

“Well I’m glad about that.” He straightened his tie and shrugged his shoulders. “I need you here, Jess. No bones about that. Most days, I’m not sure what I’d do without your intellect.”

She blushed and chuckled. “Aw, Christopher, I swear if I didn’t like women and you didn’t like men we’d be a match made in heaven, right?”

A woman with a baby in front of them giggled and took her bag.

Christopher sighed, “Jesse, we really need to stop talkin’ about our personal business up here, huh?”

“Yes, duly noted boss man. Sooo…maybe we should go in the back so I can ask you about the dude I hooked you up with last week.” She nodded and turned to him.

“Um, nothin’ really to tell. I’m sorry Jesse, he’s just not what I’m looking for.”

The manager rolled her eyes. “Just what the hell are you searchin’ for in a man, Chris? You gotta lower your standards just a little don’t you? Ain’t no pretty boy with money and a squeaky clean disposition comin’ into your life any time soon.”

“That might be true but, well, he just didn’t do it for me. I liked that he’s self-sufficient, he’s pretty burly which I, erm, well, I’m not into overly muscular men. He doesn’t have to be a model but he does have to be easy on the eyes.” Christopher paused, “Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to talk about my business up here?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh sorry, let’s go in the back a moment then. I gotta hear the rest of this. Wanda, you okay hon, since the rush is about done?”

The younger blond nodded, “Yep, I’ll call ya’ if I need ya.”

“Great.” Jesse gripped Christopher’s shoulder. “To the back then chief to get another batch ready then, huh?”

“Yep. We’ll be back, Wanda.” Christopher went through the doors and Jesse followed him. He really enjoyed when he and Jesse could work and talk at once. Made the day go by a lot faster. If only he had something other than his seemingly desperate romantic situations to converse about.

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Rawiya

RAWIYA is the more sensual erotica writer in the BLRawiya duo. Rawiya's first book, Time to Make the Donuts is available from Naughty Nights Press. She has several shorts in anthologies, the latest, That Thing in the STARbooks collection, Tall Dark and Delicious. A lot of her shorts are also on Every Night Erotica. She blogs regularly at Erotic Dairies and Wicked Sexy Writers. For more please visit the Rawiyas blog on Wordpress.

Has love ever walked in on you?

2012-02-17T06:00:00.002-05:00

Private Investigator Bruce Shannon was doing just fine without all that schmaltzy love stuff. Until someone left the door open…

Hi there! My name is Charlie and I’m a newly published author of M/M Historical Romance. I’d like to give a big thank you to Carson for having me, and to everyone stopping by. As February’s theme embraces all things love, I’m here to give you a sneak peek into my Valentine’s Day Sip: When Love Walked In.

Now, this isn’t a story filled with sweeping gestures of undying love (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but that kinda thing would have Bruce hitting the floor and digging his way to China). Nope, this is a sweet little tale about two fellas who find something neither were looking for and had no idea they were in need of.

Blurb:

Bruce Shannon is a Private Investigator dealing with case after case of missing persons and infidelity. None of which inspire warm, fuzzy feelings during the week of Valentine’s Day. Then again, Bruce isn’t exactly a fuzzy feelings kind of guy, which suits him just fine. He doesn’t need anyone anyhow, only his cat, Mittens. That is, until the handsome Jace Scarret wanders off the street and into Bruce’s life.

A little about Bruce and Jace, and why I wrote about them:

I wrote When Love Walked In because I wanted to tell a Valentine’s Day story about two regular Joes who each have something to offer the other, even if they don’t realize it themselves.

Bruce is older than Jace. He’s been around the block a few times and has the scars to prove it. Being a PI, especially during the Great Depression, isn’t exactly doing anything to help restore Bruce’s faith in his fellow man. And love? Well, he’s pretty much given up on that. As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t need it. In fact, he’s convinced himself he’s better off without it. Besides, he’s got his job, his friend Joe, Joe’s pies, and Mittens-- his black and white cat. What else could he possibly need?

Jace on the other hand doesn’t have any of those things. He’s recently found himself on the streets without so much as a penny to his name, yet despite his harsh circumstances, Jace has never lost hope. He gets by as best he can and is always optimistic that something better will come along. Jace is no stranger to heartache, and that heartache plays a part in where he’s been and where he’s heading.

Bruce is grumpy, a man of few words and fewer expressions. He’s a thinker who likes to keep those thoughts to himself. Anything you get out of the man will either be through rigorous interrogation or mind reading.

Jace is cheerful, tenacious, and frightfully honest. Don’t let that schoolboy charm fool you, Jace isn’t nearly as timid as he seems.

Sneak Peak:

Unaware of Bruce's ogling--thank goodness, Jace set a plate of toast on the table.

"I hope you don't mind, but I thought I could thank you by making you breakfast. I didn't know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything."

"You made all this?" Bruce asked, dumbfounded. He was pretty sure all he'd had in his refrigerator were a few eggs, a meager block of cheese, and a few strips of bacon.

"Yes. I hope you like it."

Jace poured them each a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. The first bite was enough to make Bruce melt. My god, the man could cook, unlike Bruce who had nearly burnt the place down once attempting to boil an egg.

"Where have you been all my life?" he moaned, enjoying another forkful. He glanced up and nearly choked on his eggs. Whatever reaction he'd expected, it sure wasn't the one he received. Jace was staring down at his plate, his cheeks a bright pink. It occurred to Bruce that there was something he'd like for breakfast far better than eggs. To make matters worse, when Jace met his gaze, it was all too clear the guy was happy to be that something. That couldn't happen. The poor fellow had enough problems without adding the complications of a tumble in the sack. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for Jace to think Bruce expected something from him after all.

Clearing his throat, Bruce turned his attention back to his breakfast. "This is really good. Thanks."

"Oh, uh, sure." There was a hint of disappointment in Jace's voice, but Bruce figured it was for the best. Definitely. Probably...

Can Jace show Bruce that maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t so lousy after all? Join them to find out!

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Thanks!

Charlie Cochet

Leather + lust = love? You betcha!!

2012-02-15T06:00:00.003-05:00

Welcome to the world of New Amsterdam: it's the NYC landscape, Chicago's political machine, and Gotham's darkness. Murder, mayhem, intrigue, and intimacy are the stock in trade on these city streets, and rarely is anything exactly what it seems.

The tale begins with Hearts Under Fire, continues in "The New Deal" and will further unfold in shorts and novels slated for 2012. Join me, Kelly Wyre, and my co-author, H.J. Raine, for a tour of leather, lust, and love.

Our books are available from Torquere Press and on Amazon, and Hearts Under Fire will be available in print later in 2012.

Much love and many thanks!

Kelly Wyre & H.J. Raine

Kelly's Blog

Kelly's Facebook

Raine's Blog

Raine's Facebook

Hearts Under Fire:

Ten years ago, Maxwell you-can-just-call-me Clark thought he would spend his life as a military man. But his world turned into a nightmare when a suicide bomber destroyed Clark's career. It's been a long road to recovery, littered with surgery, alcohol, and secrets, but Clark finally has peace. His bar, Glow, is the place to be in the city of New Amsterdam, the son of the mayor employs Clark as a confidential information man, and Clark’s side venture as part-owner of a BDSM club is quite the profitable release. Clark’s life is a good one, so long as no one gets too close.

Then a man walks into Glow who will forever change Clark’s rules and reality. Thinking Professor Daniel Germain is just another handsome face ripe for Clark’s kind of good time, Clark puts on his smoothest moves. When the professor turns him down, Clark goes on the hunt, and what he discovers shows him that even the deepest wounds can be healed by submitting to love.

"The New Deal" .

It's been a year since Clark and Daniel found one another in Hearts Under Fire, and the bartender and the professor have found harmony. However, Clark's work for Lucian Gray, the New Amsterdam Mayor's son and leader of an underground vigilante network, still continues, and it's not without danger. Clark knows it's only a matter of time before the risks become too great for Daniel to bear, and his prediction comes true when a BDSM scene turns into a captive discussion. Find out what happens when the men must balance life's passion with true love.

COMING FEBRUARY 8TH TO AN ONLINE STORE NEAR YOU:

"Luck in the Making" and "Swing Shift"

Valentine's Day New Amsterdam Tales.

"Luck in the Making"

For Jeffrey Ross, life is all about disaster management and recovery. Even a ride on the subway presents its challenges. Thankfully, though, Jeffrey works for Maxwell Clark, who not only notices difficult struggles and brave deeds, he believes in easing the first by rewarding the second. And this Valentine's Day, Clark's decided that Jeffrey is long overdue for some sweet strokes of manmade good fortune.

"Swing Shift"

Valentine's Day is just another day in the line of duty for Officer Ed Sorenson: investigate a murder, save a life, file the paperwork. But when Ed has to step out of the closet to help an injured boy and to be a role model for the New Amsterdam Police Department, Ed finds unexpected solace in a man who understands what it takes to keep the city and its citizens safe.

Milady? Yes, but our Lady, too!

2012-02-13T06:00:00.006-05:00

Blurb:

Think medieval times when honorable men must do what is required of them. Thomas Lancaster, a widower with bad memories of marriage and a young son he barely knows, is a hardened knight loyal to his king. In reward for his efforts fighting in the Crusades, King Edward gives him Middlemound Castle to hold for the crown. But he must marry the beautiful young widow of the castle's previous lord.

Lady Gloriana Stewart suffered brutally in her first marriage and has no desire to marry again. She has no choice and must protect her people and obey her king. All she wants is for her new husband to give her a baby. Thomas refuses to even consider it. Complicating the situation is Sir Rowan Montgomery, Thomas's first knight, friend, and lover. Complicating the problem even more, Gloriana has feelings for both her new husband and for Rowan.

Excerpt:

Thomas stood next to River Ure while his horse lapped water beside him. He looked out over the valley leading to Middlemound Castle. A faint breeze swept over him carrying the scents of sweet clover from the patches bursting with flowers nearby. Along with it, he drew in the heavy smells of sweat. His own and that of Rowan, who stood quietly a few feet away. He imagined all of his men—including his new men—smelled equally as unpleasant after these last long days of travelling.

“I suppose we should all bathe in the river before we head toward Middlemound.” He said the words without hazarding a look at his first knight. He dared not think about the roughly handsome man being naked anywhere near him as long as his other men were nearby. Even the mere thought of Rowan in all his hard-muscled glory, naked, had Thomas’s cock showing interest.

Understanding the problem, Rowan said, “Aye, I’m sure everyone there would appreciate not smelling the stink of our many days on the road.” He turned to head back to where they’d camped last night. “I’ll pass the word.” He hesitated before walking away. “I’ll go into the river farther upstream.”

As he heard his friend move off, Thomas felt the strain of arousal slip away as well. He and Rowan had discovered an appreciation for one another quite by accident almost half a year back. An appreciation that had quickly led to some of the hottest sex he could ever remember experiencing. At first Thomas had been shocked, not sickened or appalled, just surprised. He’d always loved being with women, quite lusted after them actually. He had a hearty appetite for sex and he’d never had any complaints from his more-than-willing bed partners. Yet he’d never been drawn toward a man before that time with Rowan. He still wasn’t drawn toward other men. Only Rowan fired up his need to make love to a man.

Any kind of romantic relationship can be tricky. Creating a story that combines two people with unique personalities, histories, preferences, and different views on life is complicated. Adding a third person to the mix makes it even more complicated. Then adding to that the historical elements from another time period and it can be a writer’s nightmare…or great pleasure. I very much enjoyed dealing with all of this while writing Their Lady Gloriana.

In writing a ménage a trois story, the author must carefully weave together the facets of interaction of three complex characters. The reader must be convinced to care about each of the characters and that each of the characters, in turn, cares about one another.

The following are excerpts showing how I set up each of the three main characters’ backgrounds, their mindset prior to the forming of the ménage relationship.

(Lady Gloriana’s life changing moment)

“Lord Middlemound will not be returning, my lady. He died over a month ago in the battles.” Relief filled her instead of sadness. But that was wrong. She would beg forgiveness for such an awful sin in her prayers later. Gerald caught her attention once more and said with clear unhappiness, “King Edward has decreed that you will marry Lord Montrose upon his arrival at Middlemound. He is travelling here with his men and with Lord Middlemound’s men.”

(Thomas, Lord Montrose’s life changing moment)

It still surprised him that Edward had commanded he marry Geoffrey Stewart’s widow. He’d met Stewart on more than one occasion at court and disliked him. He’d distrusted the man even more on the battlefields in Tunis. His death did not bother Thomas at all. But being ordered to wed the man’s young widow did. … He and Lady Middlemound need only be agreeable in bed together to please him. He would not seek out relief from maids or find a mistress. … Although he’d tried to convince his first to take over Montrose castle from him, Rowan refused. He’d also refused to accept a holding of his own offered to him by Edward. Rowan wanted only to become Thomas’s first in command at Middlemound. He didn’t want to leave Thomas. While Thomas was certain there could be problems ahead, he was grateful for the man’s loyalty both as a soldier and as a lover. For if Gloriana Stewart couldn’t fully satisfy his hungers in bed, at least Rowan could.

(Rowan, Sir Rowan’s life changing moment)

He wasn’t sure what he wanted, other than to stay here for a while. He’d been on his own longer than Thomas. As the bastard son of the Duke of Remington, he’d been a thorn in the powerful duke’s side. He’d been acknowledged but never accepted by the duke’s wife or his family with her. So he’d left where he’d been fostered at eight by his father and found another castle and lord to take him on. The lord had been hard on him, but he’d learned much and had become the seasoned warrior he was because of him. He’d drifted around from battle to battle, from castle to castle. He’d been a favored warrior by Edward for several years and more so after he and Thomas had joined together, fighting side by side. Being with Thomas was as close to settling down as he’d ever come. He wasn’t ready to give up their friendship.

Their Lady Gloriana involved not only the intricate drawing together of these three individuals into a ménage relationship, but also the continuation of a male/male relationship that had developed first. This was not a story only about a woman having sex with two hardened medieval warriors. And it is not a story about the intense sex between the two men. It is a story about three people learning to trust each other, finding peace with one another in a dark and difficult time.

Starla Kaye

website Book Trailer: Publisher: Amazon (Kindle):

What's your idea of romance?

2012-02-10T06:00:00.075-05:00

Ah, February…and Valentine’s Day. Chilly nights, warm fireplaces, two bodies pressed close together—the month is ripe for romance.
And if your idea of romance includes leather, submission, domination, restraints, and perhaps the electric shock of a whip applied to one’s skin, my story Fugue, published by Amber Allure, may be just the kind of twisted love story you seek.

I don’t write much BDSM, but this story called to me. I wanted to play with two ideas: one, the shifting of power in dominant/submissive relationships (dominance does not always equal power) and two, the idea that sex is never centered between the legs, but between the ears.

Who is the master and who is the slave?

In Rick R. Reed’s tortuously sexy short story, you might not always know. Fugue takes the brave reader into the dungeon playroom of a master and his boy. It’s the kind of place where “darkness skitters into corners, hiding in shadows where the walls disappear.” A boy is chained to the pipes along the ceiling. Hooded, he can only experience the sensations his master delivers with his whips, fingers, tongue...

But in the boy’s mind, a dream state takes him places even the master could not imagine...places where the established pecking order is turned upside down. As he’s being deliciously whipped, tantalized, and tortured, the boy takes a mental journey on a late-night train where his adventures are even more raw and erotic than what goes on in this very dungeon.

Come along for the Fugue...and answer for yourself the question: who is the master and who is the slave?

Excerpt

...Shackles embrace my ankles, keeping me anchored to the cool, damp floor. This sense of immobility ratchets up the tension and anticipation, and these feelings war within me, causing tingles throughout my body in much the same way as the restraints holding me in place do. I ache for something to happen, yet know I am powerless to bring anything about. Patience is a virtue I have learned, honed in its tutelage now for several years.

Ever since I met my master. That man of mine. The one I love. The seer and deliverer of pain, of pleasure, of love…and discipline.

Waiting. Anticipation pulses like a drug, pounding and surging through my body, binding me more thoroughly than these cuffs, chains and shackles. The air against my naked body is especially cool, its dampness almost like a second presence, like an icy caress. Part of the chill comes from the fact that I am bereft of hair; earlier, he shaved me clean, right down to the hair that sprouts between the cheeks of my ass. He has clamped my nipples, and the bite of the steel hurts and, at the same time, keeps me in a constant state of arousal. My balls hurt as well; he has pulled them low with metal cuffs that twist around the top of the sac, gripping and tugging….a constant, dull ache.

This is true love.

Yet all this dull sensation of pain is but a prelude to the full symphony of hurt that’s on its way. I keep my eyes shut tightly; a lazy smile moves across my lips, disappears.

Waiting. Anticipating. Almost overriding the pedestrian ache of my constraints is the roaring of my blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart, the quickening of my breath, all of these racing with each little noise I hear. My mouth is dry with want, with need. I almost ache to shout out into the murky light: “Hurry! Hurry! I almost can’t bear you making me wait like this. The anticipation is too much. It’s torture even I don’t want. Hurry!”

But I don’t dare. I keep my own counsel and stay mute. A good slave knows his place, knows when to groan, when to scream, when to whimper, and when to sigh. And now, in this waiting, is not the time.

Behind me, my master busies himself, arranging lashes on a table: cat o’ nine tails, bullwhip, riding crop, and even a wooden paddle with holes drilled in its smooth oak surface that transports me back to junior high school. I remember being in seventh grade detention, the paddle whistling through the air, singing through those holes as the gym teacher, Mr. Wright, brought it down hard on my adolescent ass, not knowing that the pain he was delivering was also filling me with the most delicious pleasure, or that my dick was hard and dripping in my jeans. Had he known, would he have continued?

Would it have been a kind of pleasure for him, too? Thinking about such a prospect makes my dick hard even now.

My master comes up to stand behind me, firm touch of his hand on my chest, then moving away. His hands are warm and strong. I am his.

I smell the leather: deep, musky, manscent.

Leather aroma deepens as he pulls my head back and I close my eyes. Leather fills my senses until it’s all that exists. My master slides the hood over my face, obliterating this dusky space where we will be together, making me his and his alone.

Darkness...

Available at Amber Allure: For Kindle: For Nook:

Note: “Fugue” also appears as part of my print paperback collection, ON THE EDGE, which is available here:

Contact Rick R. Reed

Facebook: Twitter: Website: Blog: Email:

And then there were 3!

2012-02-08T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hello, everyone!

My name is Tia Fielding, I’m an M/M-romance author and I’m here to pimp out my menage-novel, By Any Other Name, and its free Holiday-story The Great Escape. Yes, I understand it’s well beyond the Holiday season now, but hey, it’s free and sexy and fun! I will have to say that you should probably read By Any Other Name first, though, just to not spoil things for yourself.

By Any Other Name isn’t a new book, it was published in late August of 2011, but since there was a ménage-theme in here… Yeah, I’m going to ramble to you a little bit, but it won’t be about BAON, it will be about ménage-stories in general.

Now, when I had the idea for BAON, it was always going to be a ménage-story. There were three clear main characters bouncing about in my head and all of them wanted their voices heard. The story wasn’t your typical M/M/M-story, and how the ménage came to be wasn’t quite the usual story either. In fact BAON was the result of wanting to tell a story about abuse, friendship and belonging, but also make it a ménage-story without the usual rampant sexual content most M/M/M-books seem to have. Oh, there is sex in BAON, but I think the way I executed the smexin’ was different and fit the story just fine.

So when I finished writing another book (M/M, vampires) recently and got another idea for an M/M-novel, I pretty much thought it was going to be quite straightforward from there on. Wrong. SO WRONG.

As I was making my initial plans for the novel, sort of sending mental feelers to the boys in my head, I got a huge surprise. There weren’t just two guys in there in the story, instead there were three. Suddenly my easy M/M had turned into a very complicated M/M/M.

Now this future book of mine, if it ever sees the light of day, will be a love story between three very different people. In fact, when I began to ponder about really writing this particular ménage, I came to the conclusion that it might just be what I need after writing so many M/M-stories since By Any Other Name.

Sometimes it’s simple, other times not. This just goes to prove that us writers, we don’t really have as much control over our characters and stories as we’d like to think. But that’s half of the fun, isn’t it? Here a peek at By Any Other Name

Dru and Thom have been together for three years, and despite Thom’s occasional bouts of insecurity and Dru’s fear of rejection, their relationship is rock solid. Then Dru’s long-lost friend, Skye, suddenly reappears, shocking them both. Skye suffered years of inconceivable abuse before escaping it, and while he’s back on track, he has nowhere else to go as he begins to rebuild his life.

Dru, Thom, and Skye each want to belong somewhere, to belong with someone—or someones—with no fear of being hurt, set aside, or left behind. It’s a challenge with daunting odds, especially for Skye, who’s never loved before. He’s determined not to come between his two friends who so clearly belong together, and it will be up to Dru and Thom to conquer their fears and convince Skye to stay.

Excerpt from Chapter 3 - Skye

Funny thing, how life turned out. He had never really thought about the whole cycle of things, but it was there. He had left Rowan Falls and Dru, and now he was going back to some fifty miles from Rowan Falls and to Dru. He hadn’t been sure about going back at all. Hell, who knew what Dru would think about him and how he had just vanished? Maybe he had been torn and hated Skye for leaving like that? Maybe he had felt betrayed?

The train of thought led Skye to berate himself; who knew if Dru even cared after the initial disappointment? Or maybe he had been happy to get rid of the poor kid who always hung around him? Why would he do this, except out of charity? He wouldn’t, not when he had a new life and all. Skye had gone online too, to do some research of his own on Doctor Al’s computer. Dru had a business that seemed to be doing well, or so Al had said after gathering information online. He also had a boyfriend. Or a partner—that was probably the right word for what that Thomas person was. Not only would Skye be living with Dru but with this Thomas, whom he had never met. The thought made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat.

“Skye, you ready?” one of the nurses, Tim, asked from the doorway of Skye’s room.

“Yeah, I am,” Skye said, clearing his throat as he glanced around and grabbed his duffle bag from the bed.

“They want you in the cafeteria.” Tim grinned, and Skye rolled his eyes. Whenever someone was released from Haven because they were doing well and going home or wherever, there was a little party. The other nutjobs would say nice things about the one leaving, and there would be cake. No balloons, though, not after Mr. Skittles had gone nuts and run into a wall the year before, when Melinda was released. Damn, that man was crazy—and apparently had a fear of balloons. Reminded him of clowns. Coulrophobia was something not to laugh at. Even the thought of that made Skye snort.

When Tim looked at him inquisitively, he mouthed “clowns” and made the nurse chuckle too. They had had this conversation before. It wasn’t clowns or balloons Skye was afraid of. His fears had to do with darkness, basements, small spaces, being confined, and anything overly religious in the Christian way. It made him want to puke, run, and faint in no particular order.

Tia Fielding –

Website: Goodreads: Facebook: Twitter: @tiafielding

By Any Other Name can be found here:

Amazon (kindle): Dreamspinners Press (ebook): Dreamspinners Press (paperback):

The Great Escape – You can get a free copy from Goodreads. An additional download-link in the description.

February welcomes The Incredible Heidi Wasabi!

2012-02-06T06:00:00.017-05:00

Welcome to February, the month of kink and threesomes. Helgaleena's first original novel length erotic romance (for I am also the author of hundreds of fan-fiction slash tales and editor of scores of others) fits right in.

The Incredible Heidi Wasabi is an MMF-- but it also is based on a firm foundation of love. In fact, love is what turns the entire story from just the saga of how two rock musicians managed their differences and their screwy hobbies in order to stay together for their entire lives, into a mind-boggling evolution of consciousness for the third party, the one for which the book is named.

Rufus Dixon grew up in rural West Virginia and even though he put himself through folk music school, he's got some working-class attitudes when it comes to making a living at it that drive him into rock'n'roll, and eventually into heavy metal. Like many in the metal scene he parties hard and that means plenty of sex, more than most of us mortals require, with men as well as women. Thank goodness for self-gratification, and the rubber lady he nicknames 'Heidi'.

It's a step up career-wise when the European transplants Virgen Steel, whose sound includes folk-infused strings and whose stage shows include fencing and theatrics, take Rufus on. Bassist Steen Herren needs a front man because he keeps alienating them and overpowering them. Soon they're dueling onstage, literally, as well as taking it out on one another with their fists in the bar afterwards. If it weren't for the music, and some strange chemistry beyond that--

excerpt:

'It didn’t come as a great surprise to Herren when one of those drunken spats among the cigarette butts and puddles of beer in the wee hours got them both hard. But Dixon was looking at him like he’d never seen him properly before. He was merely shaking Steen, not pounding him on the bar floor any longer. Blue and hazel-green eyes, one rapidly swelling shut, managed to meet and lock for a crucial second. It gave the bouncer an opportunity to grab hold of them and throw them both out.

Once they were both on their feet in the alley, Steen pulled Rufus up by the leather jacket and kissed him, kissed the taste of his own blood off Rufus’ teeth and let his lower lip be seized and savaged by the singer’s massive jaws.

My man was in shock. Sure, Rufus the Rude had enjoyed both girls and boys in all his years with bands. But why was he sparking with Steen? The guy had three kids with Anna and another on the way. Yet there was more to Steen than most knew. Rufus had been to his Solstice services. The man was even consultant on that horror film Lunasad. That’s why he’d asked his advice on ‘astral beings’, trying to get a handle on what I was. Did Steen really want to do this or was he just trying to keep the Virgens from splitting up?

So he was tempted to use that reddish goatee for a handle and pry open Steen’s mouth but he did not. He let the kiss take its course and the fire it wanted to start die down. He was breathing like a bellows but he backed off.

Steen showed that he was a mind reader on top of everything else. He drew away too, when the stubble on Rufus’ cheek went combing though his little beard in reverse and their lips fell apart. “Don’t worry; Anna isn’t jealous about men,” he murmured then, and his split lip curled wryly into a smirk. His hips rocked hard into Rufus and rammed their cocks together.

That did it. Rufus grabbed his ass and spun with him, up against the filthy brick wall, taking more skin off his knuckles and trying to hammer them into Steen with himself. The Dane grunted and bucked them outwards again, hard enough to bruise, whereupon they began to rut until they were both trembling and wet like spent racehorses. Never even got their pants open.

I know. I was watching. That led to a time where Rufus didn’t see me much, even in dreams. But I wasn’t afraid of losing him like some meat woman would be. There’s only one Heidi. And I was still learning about myself and what I could manage in this world. Like getting around on the Internet. My goodness! If I was seeing to Rufus all the time, when would I blog? '

/excerpt

Steen's life in music is for him a way of practicing magic. He's lived rough, busking in the subways and doing things he would rather not recall, all to get to where he is today, enchanting audiences with electronics and lights, providing for his 'tribe' of offspring and hangers-on. He senses a spark of magic in Rufus as well, though what to do about it?

It turns out that the true magic is love, and it takes a third incredible person to balance things out. But she's pretty hard to explain. We'll have to let her do it, as soon as she knows how...

One chapter of the book is actually set on Valentine's Day, a very crappy day where Rufus has just found out his mother died. And the divorce from his cheating first wife Janie is not going well either. So what does he do? Tell his band mates what's bugging him? Nothing so simple for our redheaded redneck; he's got to pick a fight and lose it.

The chapter is called 'Heartseeds', and it is also available in our

Dark Roast Press seasonal anthology,

My Dark Roasted Valentine

You can read a PG excerpt of it here:

But I am betting that you would much rather learn the whole story of Heidi and how she became part of Rufus and Steen's happily-ever-after that even death cannot tune out. Buy it here:

love, Helgaleena

3 times the lovin' also means 3 times the drama!

2012-02-03T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hello everyone!

*waves*

I’m so glad to be here on Guy’s Like Romance Too, and a big thank you to Carson and Jaxx for having me. I’ve been writing for a few years now, and while I have some other works published there is one very close to my heart. It was one of my first books published, and not only does it fit into the theme this month, Lover’s Come Hither, but it’s also my first and only multi- partner story!

Dream a Little Dream was published in October, 2010 and although I’ve had other works published since then, this is still one of my favorites.

It started out as an idea I got while watching a creepy episode of CSI late one night. As I sat there on my couch, in my most comfy jammies, clutching a pillow to my chest freaked out by the grotesque scene set in a mental hospital, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be completely sane yet trapped in in a hell not of your own making. What would you do? That got me started thinking and the next thing I knew, I had pulled out my cell phone and began filling up my memo pad with ideas and a rough outline.

Originally my book was only supposed to involve a doctor falling in love with their patient. It quickly spun out into a totally different story, with a confirmed pair of lovers taking on a younger, abused man in need and teaching him the true meaning of love. Dr. Aiden Turner and his longtime lover, Officer Jacob Blackthorn take a quiet, withdrawn young named Cael Sumner, a former patient of Aiden’s into their home to help him deal with his past. But things are not always what they seem and Cael may not actually be as sane as everyone once believed. Throw in a abusive monster hell bent on snatching away my sweet little character Cael, add in a healthy dose of mysticism and psychic powers, and …BAM!

Dream a Little Dream was born!

Blurb:

Dr. Aiden Turner, and his lover, Officer Jacob Blackthorn, never dreamed of adding a third to their relationship. But when one of Aiden’s patients is abused at the hospital and his attacker escapes, the two men decide to take the younger man, Cael, home with them. As time goes by, the three men start to realize there is something more than doctor, patient, and protector between them.

Even as love begins, will it be ruined when a shocking secret of Cael’s comes to light? And what happens when Cael’s attacker comes back, bent on revenge? The three men must work together to save their dream of a life together, before it turns into a nightmare.

Excerpt:

“You made me a warrior,” Jake murmured when he got close, reaching out with one hand to trace down Cael’s cheek. A gasp escaped Cael’s lips at the warm touch before he could stop it. It was so good.

“Yes,” he whispered, unable to stop himself from leaning into the gentle touch. He jolted up right when he realized what he had done, knowing he was blushing as he cleared his throat.

“That’s what you are. I read a book once, on Native American cultures and the warriors were the protectors and defenders of the tribe. You helped me, were so kind and nice. You’re so strong, you could be mean but you aren’t…” Cael knew he was rambling but couldn’t seem to make himself stop. “You touch so nice and I had to paint you like I saw you. It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can hide it…I know how to hide them, so others don’t see. I can’t destroy it but I…”

That was as far as he got before a pair of warm hands cupped his face and scorching lips descended onto his own.

He mewled, arching into the sudden kiss with a gasp, his flailing hands clutching Jake’s broad shoulders, tangling into that, oh so soft, raven hair.

It was warm, oh so very warm. He’d never felt so warm. Like fire racing through his body, coming from where his lips were attached to Jake’s. Good, it felt so good; like nothing else ever had.

Don’t let it stop, please, don’t stop.

I hope you all enjoyed a brief insight into my thought process and one of my favorite books! If you really like it, you can purchase it over at Torquere Press. Or stop by my website and blog for more info on me and my other works!

-Amylea Lyn

How about some Alphabet Soup to start the month off?

2012-02-01T06:00:00.002-05:00

BDSM. Those are the letters normally used to abbreviate the stuff going on in my favorite genre: Kink. However, the abbreviation can mean different things - and that's the key point of my second book, Alphabet Soup.

When I was writing A Russian Bear (another kinky novel of mine), I wanted to incorporate a real life fetish of mine: Bookcases. Yeah, it's kinky, but I'm an author; what did you expect?

But anyway, I had one of my main characters (Mischa) give my other main character (Tom) a library as a present, and naturally, someone had to build that library. Enter Andy, the carpenter.

At first, I only meant Andy to be a means to A) enable Mischa to show some much needed sense of romance and B) show how deep into subspace Tom got while playing with Mischa. But alas, before I had a chance to do anything, I began thinking about this carpenter: Why did he react the way he did, what had happened to him before, and how would he react to meeting Tom and Mischa. Soon he was too interesting to let be. This is his story:

Andy has had a tough past. He thinks he knows exactly what he needs: scenes hard enough to take him out of himself. Then he meets CK, and everything is turned upside down. CK is relaxed and gentle and nothing like what Andy's looking for. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Andy's still attracted to the stranger.

CK is new to the city and the club, but definitely not to the scene. Andy's ideas of BDSM are very different from CK's, but there’s still something about the man that draws CK. Something fascinating and completely unpredictable. That results in amazing scenes as well as complete disasters. Andy is difficult to get to know, and CK has to work hard to find the reason for Andy's erratic behavior. CK is nothing if not stubborn, though. He's very determined to help Andy, and Andy's ready for it, but there's so much Andy's trying to forget.

Like the conscientious Dom he is, CK guides Andy's recovery, one scene at a time. Very much against his principles, CK finds himself falling in love with the man he's trying to help. Now he has to fight not only Andy's past, but his own conscience as well.

The thing is, Andy and CK have different opinions about the BDSM - mainly, what the abbreviation stands for. In Andy's opinion, it's Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, Masochism. At least that's what his abusive ex has (literally) beaten into him. But according to CK, BDSM stands for Bondage, Dominance, Submission, Masochism. That means that CK plays deep, but not necessarily hard. And that's exactly what Andy needs.

It was very different writing Alphabet Soup after writing A Russian Bear. A Russian Bear is pretty hardcore kink, and Alphabet Soup isn't. However, in my opinion, kink isn't about right and wrong; it's about finding something that works for you (much like literature, by the way). Pain works for Tom and Mischa in A Russian Bear; CK's mental games and bondage works for Andy in Alphabet Soup. I really enjoyed writing both stories, and I hope you'll like them as well.

Here is a peek inside Alphabet Soup

Excerpt:
"So, did I interrupt your plans for tonight?"

The tour of the club was almost over, and they were back in the big room. Andy cast a quick glance at CK, but there was no innuendo in what he said; he was just making conversation.

"Not really. There were only the usual suspects when I came here; not really what I'm looking for tonight." Andy had no interest in a repeat of last Saturday.

"No? What are you looking for?"

"Someone I can kiss." He had answered before he had a chance to think about it. CK seemed a little taken aback.

"You're looking for someone to make out with? Isn't it a bit hard to find vanilla sex here?"

Andy laughed. "I didn't say I wanted vanilla." He stopped and turned toward CK. "I still want someone to take control, I just don't want to be screaming my head off while I'm chained to a cross tonight. And sometimes you just want to be with someone you can kiss while you get your brains fucked out."

CK blinked. Then he smiled, a slow smile that changed his face completely. Into something very, very hot. Andy found himself transfixed by the look in his eyes, the only thought left that maybe this guy wasn't so far from Andy's type after all.

"You're right, sometimes you do. If you feel like it, I'd be more than willing to kiss you. You did show me around, after all."

Andy forced himself to remember how to talk. "So, you think your skills will be adequate to make up for the entire, uh..." He checked his watch. "...twenty minutes, I've spent on you?"

CK laughed. "They just might be." He got serious, and his eyes narrowed a bit as he inched closer.

Andy swallowed nervously as he was gently pushed backward until his back hit the wall. Then CK slowly took his hands and lifted them over his head, nailing him to the wall. The unhurried, deliberate movements went straight to Andy's dick.

"Was it something like this you had in mind?" CK's gray eyes were fixed on Andy's. Andy had to clear his voice to answer.

"I think it's just about right."

Before Andy could make any more clever comments, CK bent down until his lips were so close to Andy's that Andy could feel the heat emanating from them.

It was scorching hot, and so was CK’s warm breath on Andy’s face, feeling almost like a physical touch. He managed not to move, staring at the dominant man in front of him, desperately wanting the kiss and obediently holding himself still. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the seconds stretching out until he could hardly stand it anymore.

CK tightened the grip around his wrists, and then Andy had to break his stillness and lean forward, finally tasting those warm lips.

"Good boy." CK only pulled back enough to whisper those words and went right back in, letting a moist tongue glide over Andy's lower lip. For a moment, Andy was confused; he had no idea what CK meant. Then his thoughts were lost in the way CK gently probed his mouth, seemingly intent on driving any attempt at coherent thought out of him.

CK succeeded so well that when the man pulled back, Andy forgot about his resolution to hold still, following those lips until the grip around his wrists forced him to break contact. He made a little, frustrated sound, panting as he tried to remember what he was doing. CK smiled again, that slow smile that did something strange to Andy's knees.

"Like that?" CK's voice was low and his eyes intense.

Andy nodded, unable to talk.

"Good." Suddenly, the intensity in CK's face was gone and the big man gently lowered Andy's arms, letting go of his wrists. CK's hands slid up Andy's arms and massaged his shoulders. Andy blinked, swaying a tiny bit and trying to adjust his balance.

"Shh, you're okay."

Andy looked at CK without understanding. Of course he was okay; it was only a kiss. He felt a little dazed, though, struggling to find the light mood again.

"I think..." Andy had to clear his voice. "I think that was worth twenty minutes of my time." It wasn't the smoothest attempt at lightening the mood, but CK laughed anyway.

"Yeah? Glad to see that I haven't lost my touch." CK turned toward the room again, keeping one hand on the small of Andy's back. "Let me buy you something to drink. Then you can let me know if I can help you with the rest of your plans for tonight." He had a teasing smile on his face as he lead Andy toward the tables in the bar room.

CB Conwy

You can visit me at my website: and write me at here:

You can buy Alphabet Soup as an eBook from Torquere (also available from Amazon, All Romance, Fictionwise
To buy Alphabet Soup in print on Amazon

Is it odd to finish the month with ODD?

2012-01-30T06:00:00.003-05:00

Hello, everybody!

I am pleased to announce my upcoming release, ODD, is part of the All Romance Perfect Strangers Series. Now in it second year, the Perfect Strangers series delivers sexy stories of strangers encountering instant passion, and perhaps a happily every after. I think ODD fits well with this month's theme because it highlights one hero's first time engaging in a lust at first sight situation. If you've ever experienced that feeling, hopefully you'll relate to ODD and enjoy it!

I'm happy to share a preview of the story with you, and to offer one free download from my backlist to a lucky commenter. Good luck!

ODD will be available exclusively through AllRomance.com in February.

Synopsis: Greg Hargrove has a ticket to the hottest party in town: Drew Bradley's annual Odd Ball. Dressed for the theme as one half of a popular sitcom duo, Greg doesn't expect to meet his match and engage in a secret night of passion while the festivities rage on. When handsome Rick Wade falls on his radar, however, Greg decides to partake of more explicit party favors. Is Rick more than a one-night stand, though, or can Greg look forward to many passion-filled reruns?

Excerpt:

“In here.”

They found a door that led to stairs, which opened to a second floor of more rooms. Sconces of soft light illuminated yet another hallway, leaving Greg to wonder about the exact size of Drew’s house. Every turn seemed to extend the building, like something out of a Lewis Carroll fable.

Rick gestured him into a guest bedroom—a simple layout and décor with a double bed and windows overlooking Drew’s expansive backyard—and turned on a small bedside lamp. Greg gazed out to see thick-topped trees bordering an outdoor pool and greenhouse.

“You suppose maybe he’s growing weed in there, and that’s where he gets all his money?” Greg asked, still gazing out the window.

Rick laughed. “I told you, he owns a travel agency. Lots of huge corporate accounts.”

Greg snorted. “Then maybe it’s his private stash.”

The unmistakable rip of a zipper caught his attention, and he turned to see Rick’s pleated slacks now pooled at the ankles. Two awkward steps, with Rick grasping a bedpost for support, and he was free of them altogether. The tails of the Oxford shirt, however, covered Rick’s slim thighs and hid any hint of underwear.

Still, the man looked fit and Greg appreciated the view. “Nice,” he said. “Still don’t see any thong.”

Rick offered him a withered look, masked briefly when the sweater vest flipped up and over his head. It joined the pants, followed almost a minute later by the shirt, which Rick had slowly pulled apart button by button. If Rick had intended this as an attempt at seductive striptease Greg might have told him to move more quickly. The idea of seeing the man naked had already aroused him, and now the sight of nearly nude Rick at the cloth bulge between his legs hardened his own cock.

Greg eyed the silken blue crotch, supported by a barely-there string band. He twirled his fingers in a silent request for Rick to turn and the other man obliged. Greg sucked in a breath on seeing a perfectly smooth ass, tight and delicious. Even in the dim of the room, he clearly made out every curve and dip of the man’s body. No doubt he’d fit snug against Rick, and enjoy pounding into the man’s hole.

“Do I get to see yours?” Rick gripped the bedpost with both hands and pushed his hips upward in invitation. He craned back to smile at Greg, making Greg wonder if the man might try an impromptu pole dance. He bit his lip and tried not to laugh—he didn’t want Rick thinking he wasn’t interested, or that he considered this moment funny.

“I’m not wearing a thong,” Greg said, tilting his head, gaze fixed on that ass.

“Wasn’t talking about undergarments.” Rick’s voice pitched low to match the change in his expression. Heavy-lidded and groaning, he licked his lips and waited. Greg hoped the man liked to receive—the position he held seemed to indicate that.

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.”

He received a wide grin in response, and as Greg loosened the pull-string on his sweatpants he watched Rick inch forward onto the bed on hands and knees. The plaid comforter underneath dented and bunched with every movement, and Greg heard little disturbance in the mattress. Drew must have invested in memory foam all around, which suited Greg fine. Easier to fuck on that, more traction.

He took his wallet from a front pants pocket and plucked out his emergency condom before slapping both on the night table. He also didn’t waste time undressing, given the way Rick grabbed for the Queen Anne headboard and assumed a doggy position. One hand curled around the smooth, curved wood while the other reached behind him to prepare himself.

Mmm. Greg stepped to one side, out of the sweatpants puddle, for a better look. Watching Rick tug off his thong to play with his hole excited Greg, especially when the other man managed to dip three fingers inside without batting an eye.

“You’re eager to get started,” Greg observed.

BIO: Leigh Ellwood is an award-winning author of erotica and erotic romance fiction. Following the release of her first novel, Truth or Dare, in 2004, Leigh has since written several novels, novella, and short stories. She is an EPIC Award winner and has been nominated for many reviewers awards for her works.
Leigh welcomes reader mail at kspatwriter (at) yahoo (dot) com.

Links

Home – Blog – Twitter – AReCafe

Start the year with a hero

2012-01-27T06:00:00.002-05:00

Tian’s Hero

Firsts are always fun for me to write and read about. The wide eyed look at the world, the reminder of just what being brand spanking new at something is all about exhilarates me. This particular novel has the distinction of not only being chock full of firsts for my heroes, it is also the very first full length story I wrote. And it’s the first novel I will have published in 2012, as it’s coming out January 28^th 2011. It’s not the first story I’ve published, mind you, but definitely the first written. It is also the first novel of my Akanti series. That’s a fuck-ton of firsts.

Tian has his first sex. He gets kidnapped for the first time. He falls in love for the first time, and he’s not the only one. There are two other men in the story experiencing a bewildering array of first times, and though Kayron and Lewell’yn appear far more sophisticated and in control on the surface, both are every bit as wide eyed and awestruck on the inside.

I’ll let Tian and Lewell’yn introduce themselves with this little unedited excerpt.

**************************

The choking gasp above him—right where Lewell’yn stood—told Tian he’d said something out loud he’d really thought safely locked up in his own mind. His blush, which had begun to fade, crashed back over him, hotter and darker, burning him up from inside. He shut his eyes wondering what in all the worlds he had ever done so wrong fate would continue to put him into such—untenable—situations.

Perhaps if he kept his eyes closed Lewell’yn would take pity. Possibly the man could leave Tian to suffer his humiliation in privacy. Tian whimpered.

“Uuuunnnh”

The sound did not produce the effect he was hoping for. Lewell’yn moved alright. Instead of leaving though, the fool yanked Tian up from the floor, crushed him against a hard chest and took possession of his mouth and mind at the same time. The little slave forgot about Kayron, forgot about the lists, forgot everything but the hot, slick perfection of the mouth plundering his.

Lewell’yn pulled him closer, impossibly, splendidly closer, then spun and pressed him up against the one clear space on any of the walls in the whole kitchen. Tian whimpered again, pulling his legs up to lock his ankles in the small of the other man’s back. He pushed against Lewell’yn with his hips, needing to be closer, needing Lewell’yn to keep him from flying apart. Lewell’yn pressed the little man into the wall, holding Tian up with the weight of his body, leaving his hands free to wind tightly into the smaller man’s auburn curls. He used his grip to hold Tian’s head steady as he pulled his own away.

“Peaches…I have to hear the words Peaches. You have to say you want this. For fuck’s sake, tell me you want this—”

“Ah…p-please…”

“Please yes or please no Peaches?”

“Please y-yes…please more!”

Lewell’yn fiddled with something in his pocket, grunting as he accomplished whatever he was seeking to do. He eased Tian down to stand just long enough to strip the little man’s pants off of him, and to open the front of his own shipsuit. Then Tian was swept up again, delightfully compressed against the wall while being kissed breathless. Lewell’yn pulled his mouth away just long enough to ask a question.

“This your first time Peaches?”

Tian nodded. Before he could think of how embarrassing admitting his virginity was however, Lewell’yn was taking his mouth again, his hips rolling against Tian with just enough force to make everything else disappear.

Oh, lovely.

Tian felt the hands wound in his hair release, sliding down his neck. They followed an easy path, slipping along his side and into the small space between the wall and the arch of his spine. Dancing across his body, Lewell’yns hands were potent even through the clothing covering his torso. They burned him with a sublime fire, mapping out every sensitive spot they passed. They reached his ass as he found his mouth released. Lewell’yn nipped along Tian’s jaw to just behind his ear. He settled there, alternately licking and biting and…oh…oh blessed light, something right there must be connected directly to Tian’s cock, because every time Lewell’yn sucked right—there—Tian felt a shock of electricity race between the two points. He was so caught up sensation he didn’t notice just what Lewell’yn was doing with his hands until the man lifted his mouth to whisper huskily in his ear.

“Push out Peaches.”

Push out? Wha—oh.

Then he felt the hand pressed between his ass cheeks, a damp finger tapping against his hole. He sucked in a sudden lungful of air. Looking up into those stormy grey eyes he saw the lightning was back.

“I- I don’t. I can’t. I’ve never…”

“You can Peaches, and you damned well will at this point. I know you don’t know how to do this and you can’t think. I do know what to do. As far a thinking goes, if you’re thinking while I’m doing this then I’m fucking well not doing something right.”

Lewell’yn managed somehow to have one of his hands suddenly around both of Tian’s wrists. Tian pulled against the hold on his wrists, and found to his astonishment he was reassured by his inability to break free. Good. Lewell’yn took his mouth again. Tian whimpered. Lewell’yn took charge. Lewell’yn pressed Tian’s wrists against the wall above his head, pressed them hard, and then released them as he spoke.

“Leave them right where they are.”

The authoritative tone of his voice wrapped round Tian’s wrists as surely as his hands had. Easy to hold them where they were, to just lose himself in the surety of Lewell’yns voice. Tian let his legs slide from around Lewell’yn. He locked his knees and stood quietly in position with his arms still above his head, securely bound by six words spoken with absolute confidence. Lewell’yn reached into the cabinet standing open next to Tian’s head. He pulled a bottle of something off the shelf Tian could have sworn was empty not two minutes ago. As he pulled the stopper out he spoke again.

“Peaches?”

“Uhh?”

“Push now.”

Then there was a slick finger in him, burning and full and good. Tian pressed his wrists harder against the wall, making ridiculous noises. Should anyone ever bring them up in the future, he would deny them.

****************************

You can find more info on my upcoming releases and contact me at the following locations:

http://talesfromthewritingcave.blogspot.com/

cherienoel@yahoo.com

Play Along with Chancellor!

2012-01-25T06:00:00.002-05:00

Greetings everyone!

Today I’ve been given the opportunity to talk about my book PLAY ALONG, the first book in my AT PLAY series. I’ve spent a lot of time since the release of PLAY ALONG talking about Mark. He’s the first character I introduce you to, the character with the most history and the one I put in situations I’ve been in myself. In fact, I wrote his story as a way to heal from similar bad experiences in my own life. He is easy for me to talk about, and so I’ve done it frequently. Unfortunately, my focus on Mark has left Chance in the background- until now.

Because it is January- and here on the GUYS LIKE ROMANCE, TOO! Blog the theme for the month is “The Jump Off” - or ‘first time’ stories!

And PLAY ALONG is brimming with ‘firsts’ for Chancellor Marshall.

Chance experiences his first heartbreak, his first break-up and for the first time, he finds the courage to stand up to his domineering father. After walking in on his boyfriend, Alex, sucking off his father, Chance decides it is time to try something new. Fueled by hurt and rage Chance makes his way to his very first gay bar where he picks up an older stranger and loses his virginity- and his heart- to his first ever ‘one night stand!’

And here, for your reading pleasure, is just a glimpse of their encounter!

***

Not even the surprise of climbing out of the cab in front of his father's hotel dampened his desire for the big, sexy man. If anything, the possibility of being spotted or recognized only added to his excitement. Giving his ass up for the first time right here under his father's own roof only added to the irony. Even though he didn't recognize the clerk behind the desk when they crossed the lobby to the elevators, it felt good to flash him a smile and a wink before the doors slid shut.

Mark pressed him against the elevator wall, claiming his lips and kneading his ass hard with both hands. Mark's teeth sank into his bottom lip, biting and tugging on the tender flesh. Chance wrapped his arms around Mark's neck, vibrating with excitement. He knew they were putting on a show for the security guys, and that he might even be recognized. It was an unexpected thrill, the risk of getting caught.

Too soon the elevator came to stop on Mark's floor, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Both men groaned and reluctantly tore out of the embrace. Mark tugged Chance out of the elevator and into the hallway, grinning back over his shoulder while he dragged Chance toward his room. "Come on, baby. Just a little farther and we can try it again without clothes in the way."

Chance hurried into the room after Mark, and before the door even closed behind them, Mark was pulling off his leather vest and tugging the tee shirt out of his jeans. Chance reached for the buttons on his own shirt, but stopped and stared, watching while Mark bared his chest and abdomen to Chance's hungry gaze.

"You too." Mark stalked over and Chance reached out, running his fingers through the soft hairs that covered that broad, ripped chest. He hardly noticed his own shirt being tugged up out of his dress slacks. Mark fumbled over the buttons briefly before he lost patience and yanked the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room.

Chance shrugged out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor before attacking Mark's mouth with his own. A moment later, he was pressed up against the door with his legs wrapped around Mark's waist and his face buried in the wiry hair on Mark's sweaty chest.

Mark's musky scent, combined with the feel of skin against skin made Chance tremble with need. The hot, hard pressure of Mark's erection against his own was enough to send Chance over the edge.

With a cry of surprise he convulsed in Mark's arms, coming hard and flooding his underwear with the unexpected release. The aftershocks wore off, and Chance struggled for breath, burrowing his face more firmly into Mark's chest and clinging to his broad shoulders. Soft lips and sharp teeth nibbled at the lobe of his ear while the quiet rumble of Mark's laughter vibrated under his cheek.

That was twice tonight he'd given Mark reasons to laugh at him. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what, baby? Hell, that was hot!" The laughter was replaced by a more needy sound and Mark began rocking his own erection against Chance's groin. The lips and teeth backed off from his ear, replaced by a soft, wet tongue that danced to the same rhythm as Mark's cock, bumping against Chance's balls. "You make this old man feel young and sexy again."

"Yeah?" Chance finally looked up and saw a blissful expression on Mark's face. Anything else he might have said got cut off when Mark's mouth crashed over his, Mark's tongue invading his mouth. When Mark pulled back for breath, Chance used the space created to slide back onto his feet.

But he didn't stop there. He grabbed Mark's arms and reversed their positions, pushing Mark against the door and sinking down onto his knees. His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper hiding the impressive bulge of Mark's sex from his eyes. Within seconds he had Mark's erection in hand, the older man's jeans and underwear pulled down to mid-thigh.

Mark responded with a strangled gasp, pushing his massive organ through Chance's hold, shuddering when Chance tightened his grip and began to pump up and down the hard length. The tip of Mark's prick was dripping pre-come, and the sight and smell made Chance's mouth water. Unable to resist, he leaned forward, darting his tongue out to swipe quickly across the spongy end of Mark's cock. He pressed the tip of his tongue into the slit, looking for more of the intoxicating flavor.

"Oh, shit, baby! Good. So good…" Mark's fingers threaded into his hair and gently tugged him forward, wordlessly begging for more.

Chance obliged and parted his lips, inviting Mark into his mouth. Humming around the welcome intrusion, he let his tongue flutter along the prominent vein throbbing along Mark's length. With a quick breath he surged forward, taking Mark down the back of his throat and swallowing before backing off again to suckle gently at the tip.

Mark doubled over him, pressing his face into the back of Chance's neck and cursing softly. Chance ran the tip of his tongue along the indention below the head of Mark's cock and smiled around the mouthful. He and Alex hadn't progressed to fucking, but blowjobs? He was a genius. It was a heady feeling, getting so strong a response from someone new, someone as hot as Mark.

Chance gave Mark a few moments to recover, waiting until he straightened back up before sucking again. Turned on more than he could ever remember, Chance reached for the front of his own pants. He worked them open and shoved his hand into the sticky mess under the waistband of his boxers, fisting his own needy cock as he pleasured Mark with his mouth. He redoubled his efforts, wanting to give the incredible man his best blow ever, wanting Mark to enjoy it as much as he was.

He used every trick he knew, bobbing his head quickly along the hard length, sucking in a steady rhythm as his tongue danced in random patterns. His efforts paid off, and after a few moments Mark's hands gripped his hair tightly and held him while he thrust into his mouth. Chance stilled and hummed, allowing Mark to take what he wanted until the movements began to stutter and became jerky. At that point he pulled off and squeezed hard against the base of Mark's prick in an effort to hold off his orgasm. It was cruel, he knew, but he didn't want Mark to come yet, not like that. He had bigger plans.

Chance pressed against Mark's hip to still his desperate movements. Mark's hands tugged softly at Chance's hair and his body sagged back against the wall before he let out a long groan of frustration.

Chance had half expected him to protest, to force himself back into Chance's mouth and finish off the way he wanted to—the way Alex would have done. But no, Mark allowed Chance to take the lead, petting his hair soothingly while he gulped for air.

Chance pressed a kiss against Mark's thigh and released his prick, digging into his back pocket for a condom. Catching the edge of the foil packet between his teeth, he tore it open. Mark stared down at him through heavy lids and Chance met and held his gaze, quickly working the condom onto Mark's straining erection.

"I asked you to fuck me, remember?" Chance tugged at Mark's pants, pulling them down below his knees. "Off, please?"

Mark laughed and smoothed his hand along Chance's cheek before nodding and lifting one foot. "Yeah, okay. Off." He allowed Chance to pull off the heavy boots and socks before stepping out of his pants legs.

Chance sat back on his heels once the job was done and took in the glorious sight of Mark's nude body. A fine sheen of sweat glistened across his chest and belly, beading in his dark hairs and drawing attention to his undeniable masculinity. Chance leaned forward and swiped his tongue through the line running down from Mark's navel, following the treasure trail back down to his sheathed erection.

Now that they were headed for the fucking Chance had been longing for, he felt nervous. Nuzzling the impressive organ between Mark's thighs, Chance tried to calm himself, nipping at Mark's pubic hairs and tugging gently, looking for any available distraction.

Instead of putting things off, it seemed to fuel Mark's lust. In one quick move he hauled Chance onto his feet and pulled him flush against his body, taking his mouth in a fierce kiss, Mark's tongue pushing between his teeth while his hands slid into the back of his pants. Those hands squeezing his bare ass made Chance's head spin, and he nearly came again when Mark's strong fingers pushed between his cheeks and rubbed against his hole.

Chance groaned and pushed away from Mark, needing to put space between them before he really embarrassed himself. He had to keep it together or he would never make it to the main event. Mark stood watching him, panting for breath, his entire body flushed and his eyes eager. Well, of course—unlike Chance, he hadn't come yet.

Chance smiled shyly, trying to appear confident as he toed off his shoes and dug into his pocket again, fishing out a small bottle of lube. "Here, you know what to do with this, yeah?" He tossed the bottle over to Mark before pushing his pants and underwear down and off his legs. Naked, Chance turned away from Mark and crossed the room to the bed. He slowly crawled onto the center and positioning himself on all fours, hoping the move appeared seductive rather than scared.

He must have pulled it off, because Mark joined him quickly, one warm hand on Chance's ass and his mouth on the small of Chance's back. "Damn, Chance! So eager, that's so sexy!" Mark mumbled against his back before snapping the cap on the lube open. The sound seemed loud as a shot to Chance's ears and he tensed, then grimaced, hoping the older man wouldn't notice his reaction.

Mark squeezed one of his ass cheeks and rubbed a slick finger around his exposed hole. Chance dropped his head onto his arms and spread his legs wider, giving Mark better access. When Mark's finger pushed into him, fast and deep Chance hissed and bit the soft skin on his forearm to keep quiet. The stretch and the burn weren't bad, but unfamiliar, and knowing where this was leading made him nervous again. By the time Mark had worked a second finger into him, scissoring them and stretching him in earnest, Chance couldn't help tensing back up.

"Damn, baby, you're tight. Real damn tight—has it been a while?" Mark ran his free hand up and down Chance's spine and nibbled gently on the tender flesh of Chance's ass cheek. The concern in his voice sounded genuine, and he'd been nothing but kind. He deserved to know the truth.

Chance looked back over his shoulder and met Mark's eyes. Before he could change his mind, he swallowed back his panic and blurted it out. "It's been never, Mark. You're in uncharted territory back there… Where no man has gone before."

***

Let me conclude by saying thank you for stopping by! I would love to hear from you! Any and all questions and/or comments are both welcomed and greatly appreciated! I appreciate them so much in fact that if you take the time to leave a comment- here or through my website http://www.mathildewatson.com - I will enter your name in a drawing for a chance to win 1 of 3 great prizes! (There will be 3 winners- 1 prize per winner.) And the possible prizes are:

1 DVD copy of the film FINDING MR. WRIGHT

1 DVD copy of the film ROLE/PLAY
1 $20 e-gift certificate to Silver Publishing!
Just be sure to include your name and A VALID E-MAIL address so I can contact you in the event that I draw you name!

What makes a character real?

2012-01-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

Corbin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been late getting to the office….Lately, though, his work didn’t satisfy him. He’d had to drag himself out of bed then force himself to drive thirty minutes into the city.
This is an excerpt from my new release, Starting Over, from Decadent Publishing. In this introduction to one of the main characters you get a glimpse of a frustrated man. Many of us in the “real” world suffer such a frustration: running late, not being satisfied with what we do, going to the job anyway.

With a glance out the wall of windows overlooking the city on this cloudless, June day, he set his briefcase on the desk. He spared a smile as he noted Hazel had straightened his workspace. She liked things neat and tidy to the extreme; he settled for not a disaster.
In this excerpt we get another bit of characterization about this man. We learn Corbin is important enough to have an office with a view and that he isn’t a neat freak. Again, this last part shows a commonality with many people in how they keep their desktop, even handle their life.
Even after months of salvaging a friendship with his ex-wife, he (Corbin) still felt bad about failing her. He’d honestly tried to shove his secret desires aside and make the marriage work….She’d tried, too, even after she came to accept his bisexuality. Finally they both accepted that he really was more flat out gay than bi. They still loved each other, but they couldn’t be man and wife.
Now we are learning about his internal conflict: finally admitting to others that he is a gay man. And we see the external conflict: that he’d been in a m/f legally binding relationship, which had failed. A reader can sympathize with both Corbin and his ex-wife. He clearly didn’t want to hurt her because he loved her, just not as much as she deserved. He feels badly about letting her down and is also struggling with where to go now in his life.
I’ve given you a brief example of how a writer tries to bring a character to life, tries to make that character believable and seem “real” to a reader. By giving Corbin identifiable personality traits (dreading his job, forcing himself to do something anyway, being a bit of a disorganized office person), the reader can understand him to a certain extent.
When I decided to write this story, I wanted to focus on two strong personalities, both with having suffered obvious difficult moments in their lives. I also wanted to write about a man finally ready to take that big step, his first real step, into a lifestyle completely different from what he had lived for years. And, of course, I wanted to match him with a man truly worthy of being his first male lover.

Corbin was finally trying to ease into his new lifestyle. He was scared shitless, wondered what had possessed him to agree to this 1 NightStand arrangement. He’d spent years fantasizing about this. As he neared the long, lean man with graying hair a bit shaggy, a hard on pushing at the front of his swim trunks, and a sexy-as-hell grin, the dreams paled in comparison.
Matt had considered changing his mind about this one-night arrangement. But as the tall, well-built man walked across the pool area toward him, all thoughts of that fled. Those broad shoulders, the amazing pecs, the spattering of dark hair on his chest…all of it called to him. He wanted to touch it, play with it. He forced himself to calm down. This was a virgin gay man. He would be his first male lover and he would have to find the inner strength to take his time. Could he?

Excerpt:

Matt sat on a chaise lounge near the poolside bar, sipping on some fruity island drink the bartender had insisted he try. Not bad really, but he preferred beer. He’d been out here almost an hour and already had two women and a young stud make advances. He’d politely turned them all down, saying he was here with someone. Now he wished that someone would join him before he had to make excuses again to the Barbie-doll shaped woman heading in his direction.
She had no sooner wobbled up on her ridiculously high-heeled sandals than he spotted Corbin Bradley walking into the pool area. Well, well, well. Prime male and mine for the night. The thought surprised him, but he couldn’t deny the way his pulse raced and his body went on high alert. He grinned, glanced past the twenty-something blonde, and waved at his roomie. “Over here.”
Frowning her disappointment, the blonde walked off, muttering, “What a waste.”
He’d heard that kind of comment many times over the years and didn’t care a bit. He was comfortable with his homosexuality, even if others couldn’t easily see it until he revealed it. Unconcerned with her reaction, he studied the tall, well-built man making his way across the pool area. The photo he’d seen of Bradley didn’t do him justice. It seemed so wrong to ever hide those broad shoulders, the amazing pecs, and incredible six-pack beneath a suit, even an obviously expensive, tailored one. He longed to smooth his hands over what he saw, feel the muscles beneath his palms, play with the nipples and the spattering of dark hair on his chest. He wanted to…. God! Get it together. Stop salivating and be cool.
His cock had hardened and pressed the front of his trunks, so he lowered the hardback book he’d been reading and tented it over his erection. “Any trouble getting here?” A lame question, he knew.
“No.” He looked down at him and Matt saw uneasiness in his eyes. Yet he’d come all this way in spite of his rigid posture, the tightness in his jaw. He stretched out a hand. “Corbin, but I guess you know that already.”
Matt gave him a reassuring smile and shook it. Their hands, like their overall size, appeared similar, except his was callused from work. “Matt.”
With a slight nod of acknowledgment, Corbin eased onto the chaise lounge next to him, turning his head to take in the scene, the dozen sunbathers, the few people enjoying the pool. “I guess you can tell how nervous I am. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
Matt relaxed. “I didn’t come here with a lot of expectations other than getting away, seeing someplace new, sharing the experience with someone.” He held Corbin’s gaze and said, “I’m a little nervous myself, but I think we’ll be fine together.”
His dark brown eyes looked hopeful. “As long as you understand….”
“Don’t worry about it.”
As if he needed to make sure Matt knew what he’d meant, Corbin leaned closer and said so only he would hear, “I’ve never…well, never been with a man.”
The admission took guts. Until that moment, Matt hadn’t really intended to actually have sex with the date he’d been matched with, although he’d toyed with the idea. Now he intended to be Corbin’s first male lover. He would guide him into what could happen between them.

Available now at: Amazon Publisher

Starla Kaye
Website:

Carson's first

2012-01-20T06:00:00.042-05:00

Hello friends of Guys Like Romance!
Carson here to say I hope your new year has started off on the good foot and may everyone here get paid off their books this year! :)

I know this month's theme is firsts, whatever that first is for your characters, but we had an open spot when January 1st came in so I decided to pick an author in the gay romance genre that means something to me. He doesn't have a 'first' to share with us, but he was my first . The first gay romance I ever came across was back in 2007, All I want for Christmas and he wrote it. It was my first, but far from my last and I have been hooked ever since. Not just on his, but all of it!

So without further delay...multi-published, gay romance author, Remmy Duchene! Take it away Remmy!

Oh...new shiny place! I can be all bad and play with fire and everything *flics lighter*

Anyways, thank you my dear for inviting me here. I will try my very best not to burn the joint down. Though if I do, it's Jaxx Steele's fault *smirks* Before I did into my blog I would like to wish you all a very happy new year. I hope it brings you joy, booteh and laughter. It is a new year. 2012. I remember when I was just a little one running around, bare-footed in Jamaica and time seemed to go so slowly. Then I move to Canada, got to 16 and it was all down hill from there. Can you believe its 2012 already? Where did the past five years go?

Anyways, to the reason I'm posting. This post is about international locations used in my stories--the flavor if you will. For the most part, I've used Canadian and Jamaican locations as well as some exotic fictional places.

I LOVE cultures. I adore everything from the language to the foods to the mannerisms--everything that gives me a peek into far away lands. The internet is a wonderful place to research because you can sometimes speak with people from these places via webcam or microphone and even with the language barriers the wonderful thing is most computers come with a nifty translator. So viola! Problem solved!

My habit when I write in different countries is to use these tiny, remote places most of our culture has never heard of. I mean using a big city is easy--using a remote place is fun...exhilarating... A few years ago I started a story that takes place in China--it's a secret agent, espionage kinda deal...sort of like...Mission Impossible meets The Rundown. I still have it in my WIP pile because researching China isn't as easy as one would think and those maps--forget about it.

In the upcoming year, my releases take place predominantly in fictional towns. But I have two stories I'm researching right now, LEAKED and TAKA's FLIGHT.

LEAKED takes place in China, with two Secret Agents from CSIS on the run after they were burned (Idea came to me from watching Burn Notice). Actually, Chaz got burned. Leo who has always been in love with Chaz offers to go get Chaz and bring him home knowing any other agent who goes after Chaz would kill him. Now they are both on the run.

TAKA's FLIGHT takes place in Japan, along the Wangan Trail aka Route B and the Shuto, that same stretched of highway from Fast and Furious. It's about a street racer who after being disowned by his parents, and forced to repay his parents for dishonoring them (he's gay of course). And a business man accidentally came across his racing video on an underground website and decides to court Taka to be his new drifting team's driver. This one isn't as complicated as the one that takes place in China, but it still a problem.

Countries are huge, complicated places--especially if you've never been to said country. I've never been to China. But I looked it up and there is a ghetto in Shanghai--parts of Hongkong. This was a place some Jewish refugees ran to during the war from Germany. Who knew there was a Jewish community in China? Parts of this place, if you want to get lost and stay that way, this is the place to go.

These tales take a lot longer to write than others. My advice to you is do your research before you start the story--use google earth to plot things out. I probably should advise you NOT to use google earth when researching China. I may be a bit paranoid but just don't do it.

I have gotten emails requesting more of my Jamaican men. I adore writing these men. But the thing about Jamaica is, they aren't very open to the GLBT world. It is rampant in our music that homophobia is there. The thing is, even though I know this is everywhere, I find it really hard writing a happy story there. I've tried to ignore the rest of the bad--but so far the story is not coming out right at all. I could create a fictional place like Maroon Town where Gays are safe and allowed to be left alone, but what fun would that be? I don't know, I will write more of "Remmy's Jamaican Yumminess" (as one reader put it) but we will see how it all ends lol.

SLOW BURN will take place mainly in Jamaica. It is my second non IR but it will probably span to Martinique as the story goes along, who knows, right?

The truth is, writing IR is fun and putting in a foreign country is even better...I wonder what would happen if I wrote a sexy, Brazilian Capoeira dancer?

Thanks gang for letting me crash here...*hugs*

Remmy Duchene

Remmy's hangouts

website blogspot Kool Queer Lit Pillow Talk Tales

Lust in London

2012-01-18T06:00:00.005-05:00

Alex, who'd never been out of Kansas, jets across the pond to merry 'ol London. He's there for studying and working, but never planned on meeting Mason. The tall, handsome blond loves the attention of this young man and they form a quick, steamy relationship. But is it all a shill for Mason's secret passions? Is his heart already taken? Will Alex remember this trip as just lust in London or a lasting relationship?

In the same vein, this book is partial first love. Alex is a virgin and has never had a boyfriend, until he has an opportunity to jet across the pond from his native Kansas to merry 'ol London for a study trip. There he meets Mason, who catches his attention immediately. Mason is older, experienced, and has been in love before... whom he still talks about. He also meets two roommates...one who's never home, but another why is a homebody and takes care of the other two. But Alex is determined...he falls for Mason and after a few dates, he is deep into his world of lust, passion, jealousy, all things he's never lived before. It's a tug of war to the very end with a surprise ending and twist!

Again, love the young adults theme, college age. Alex is 21 years old, an adult, but still very young. He's still learning and growing... and finds out where true love lies, somewhere he dared not to even expect! A joy to write.

This story was inspired by a real-life friend of mine who went across the pond for a study trip...I teased him before he went wouldn't it be fun if he had an adventure? The rest...I made up and the story was born. He loved it!

Where can you find this book?

Amazon:

Smashwords:

All Romance Ebooks:

Silver Publishing:

Where can you find out more about me?

Here's my blog page:

Also on facebook:

Witness Brandon's first touch

2012-01-16T06:00:00.003-05:00

Lt. Seth Morrison has plenty of experience, but he's never been with a shifter before. He's wondered what it would be like. Who hasn't? How much of the animal would come through in the heat of passion? Would the hint of danger make the sex all that much hotter? He's curious, but he's never sought a shifter out. As a big man whose job forces him to stay fit and strong, Seth isn't sure how he'd like being with someone stronger than him, someone he couldn't easily pin down.

Then he meets Brandon, a bear shifter who runs a club and seems far too young and cool for him. But Brandon is interested. Really interested. Brandon introduces Seth to the pleasure of having sex with a man who is truly a bear, a man who could grow claws and rip him apart, a man he can't easily dominate.

A little taste of Brandon's first time with a shifter…..

Protect and Serve: Paws on Me by Silvia Violet

Blurb:

Lieutenant Seth Morrison loves being a cop, but with budget cuts and crime both on the rise, he’s stopped making time for anything but his job.

On the outside, Brandon Lord is an easy-going, flirtatious club owner. On the inside he’s a man trying to overcome a difficult past.

When a murder investigation brings the two men together, passion roars to life. They’re both willing to break the rules to be together. Because as mismatched as they might seem, each man is exactly what the other needs.

Excerpt:

“How’s your leg?” I mean to distract myself but as soon as I ask, I wish I hadn’t. I remember the feel of his thigh under my hand, hard muscles, soft flesh, coarse hair. So many textures to think about. Such a deep abiding need to lick and bite. Fuck. I can’t let him stay here.

“Better. By tomorrow I probably won’t feel much.”

“Good. I need to talk to you about the case. Maybe we should move to the living room.”

He looks so disappointed I almost change my mind, but I can’t let the longing in his eyes distract me. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed. The bandage catches on the sheet and rips loose, tearing away part of the scab and plenty of hair. “Shit!” he yells. Blood wells up and trickles down his leg.

Later, I can’t decide why I ran across the room. It wasn’t like he was going to bleed to death. Did my subconscious push me to make a move that would get us in bed together? Surely I understood where touching him again would lead. We reached for the bandage at the same time. My hand lay on his as we used pressure to stop the bleeding.

“That was dumb. I should have been more careful. I…” His words trail off. I look up. Our faces are inches apart. My heart pounds. I know how supremely stupid I would be to kiss him, but I can’t help it. His lips beg me to take a taste. I close the distance between us and swipe my tongue across his lips, savoring his woodsy flavor. “I need this,” I mumble against his lips.

“God, yes. So bad.” He opens his mouth, and we devour each other. I forget who I am, where I am. I forget that his leg is bleeding, and I’m supposed to be holding the bandage on. I sink to my knees between his legs and cup his face with my other hand, pulling him down so I can explore every inch of his mouth. I slide my tongue along his, growing more desperate for him every second. My hand tightens on his thigh, and he flinches, forcing me back to reality. I let go of him and sit back, breath coming in pants. “Fuck, this is so wrong.”

Brandon shakes his head and cups me under the chin, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever done anything this right.”

The intensity in his eyes scares me. I start to pull away. What am I doing? Wrecking everything I’ve worked for? I can’t fuck a man who’s involved in my case.

Brandon squeezes my arms, immobilizing me. “Stop thinking. Stop analyzing everything with that fucking cop’s brain. Just feel.”

I’m not used to being with anyone stronger than me. But I like the way he’s holding me, refusing to let me go. Having a man like him -- young, hot, cool, seductive -- wanting me goes to my head. He makes me forget all the rules, makes me let down barriers I’ve held in place my whole life. I can’t stop.

I kiss him again. My mouth is brutal in its assault. He could easily take control, but he opens to me, letting me have him my way. He tastes rich and smoky like a campfire, like fall. I suddenly want to do more than kiss and fuck him. I want to take him to my favorite restaurant, introduce him to the best coffee in the city, take him boating on the river. I want a fucking relationship.

The thought nearly frightens me into backing away, but he tastes and feels too damn good. I run my hands over his chest, enjoying the feel of his fur. I release his mouth and nibble his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. I sink my teeth into one of his muscular pecs. He growls and pushes his hands into my hair, pressing my face against his chest. “More.”

I bite him again, harder this time, sucking at his flesh, wanting to mark him. He digs his fingers into my scalp, groaning and rubbing his body against mine. I circle his wrists with my hands as I lick at the bruise I made. He lets me pin his hands to the mattress and keep them there. I slide lower and rub my face against the thick hair covering the center of his chest, loving the feel of it brushing my face and catching in my beard. I take a deep breath of his musk.

Then I drop to my knees. “Don’t move.” I release his hands.

Learn more about Silvia Violet at her website or on Facebook or Twitter.

Base jumping, sex and love: Oh my!

2012-01-13T06:00:00.003-05:00

Hello everyone,

I'm Lydia Nyx! Keeping with this month's 'first time' theme, I'm here to share my novella Risky, published in June of 2011.

When aspiring rock guitarist Turner Watts meets Luca Kennedy, the lead singer of a band named Salto, he finally gets his lucky break. Luca is a small man with a huge personality: enigmatic, eccentric, beautiful—and reckless. When one of Luca’s daredevil stunts goes awry, Turner has to hope he can convince his friend to stop endangering his life and take a new kind of risk—one that will enhance life rather than endanger it.

I wrote Risky for Dreamspinner Press' 'First Time for Everything' 2011 Daily Dose package. In Risky, several 'first time' elements are explored. For Turner, it's his first time exploring sex and a relationship with another man. For Luca, who is both an aspiring rock star and a BASE jumper, it's his first time trying to handle something in his life that's not wild, fast-paced, and dangerous. And by the end, they're both exploring another first for both of them: love.

I enjoy writing about complicated, sometimes dangerous characters with a slightly (or more than slightly) self-destructive streak. Luca is the very definition of all those things. Turner is the opposite: a grounding, level-headed force that can bring Luca back down to earth. Their dynamic helps each of them work out the issues that keep them from experiencing new, life-enriching moments.

Here's a peek inside:

THE first time Turner Watts met Luca Kennedy, he learned the true meaning of the phrase, “taken aback.” Luca wore dark aviator sunglasses, awkwardly big on his gaunt face, and looked like he had just come from rolling around in a yard sale down the street. Despite his small, wiry frame and being several inches shorter than Turner, he instantly conveyed the vibe he could eat worlds and slay giants.
“I’m sorry,” Turner said. “I don’t know what BASE jumping is.”
They were loitering in front of a coffee shop on Melrose Avenue, the trendiest people in the world drifting by, the California sun beating down hot. Luca explained to him that the name of the band he fronted, Salto, meant “to jump” in Portuguese, his cultural heritage. He then explained why he’d chosen the word.
“It”—Turner struggled not to sound foolish—“has something… to do with the military?” This sounded reasonable.
Luca grinned, flashing over-white teeth. His pale skin looked impossibly smooth, like whipped butter. Dark hair streaked with bleached-blond stripes hung to his shoulders, drawing attention to a long, slender neck above the collar of a ragged pea-green T-shirt.
“No, it’s just regular civilians jumping off shit like maniacs.” Turner’s new acquaintance and Luca’s best friend, Christian Holden, provided an answer. He stood next to Luca, and in stark contrast, Christian was dark, burly, tall, and tattooed. Turner himself presented a rather gritty figure—tattoos down his arms, spiky blond hair, someone who wouldn’t be caught dead in a business suit.
When Christian told Turner he would introduce him to his “best friend,” Turner had expected someone very much like Christian—a hardcore, leather-clad rocker—not a tiny, frail waif Turner suspected could scoop him up in one hand and fling him to the pavement.
“It is jumping off shit like a maniac,” Luca said. “But with a parachute. And for glory. I’ll tell you all about it sometime. Right now, we’re here for other things. Christian tells me you can play guitar.”
Weeks passed before Turner saw Luca and Christian again. Turner brought his guitar to a small, cluttered apartment in Beverly Hills, where Luca gave him his audition. Luca looked less like a homeless person this time, dressed in a slim black sweater despite the heat, jeans looking fresh off the rack, and beat-up blue Converse sneakers.
Luca sat in a chair behind a small table scattered with papers, and Christian hovered over him like a bodyguard. Turner played his guitar but couldn’t get over how ethereal Luca’s eyes were: a shocking color, blue bordering on violet, and impossibly wide.
He didn’t actually expect to get in the band.
“You need to have dinner with us.” Luca stuffed a piece of paper into Turner’s hand, on which he’d scribbled the name of a restaurant and an address. “Seven-thirty sound all right?”
In the years after, Turner could never remember the name of the restaurant. He could remember the way the light shone in Luca’s eyes, the way he moved as if he were only half there, like a phantom, like a beguiling angel. The restaurant served foreign fare and had a strange name. Turner could never bring himself to ask.
Turner also couldn’t bring himself to ask all the things he wanted to know about Luca. Every time they were together he found his tongue tied and couldn’t force himself to make even the smallest of small talk. Luca could be incredibly intense, sometimes even stressful to be around. He was always writing, or working out chords, or creating artwork, and his devotion to perfection bled onto everyone and everything around him. Practices were particularly painful, as Luca would make everyone stay until they had achieved a level of performance he found acceptable.
Sometimes they hung out in bars—after practice, if the session hadn’t gone on too long, or on weekends when Turner left work early. Even then, Luca would be writing in a notebook and never really engaged in conversation. Turner wanted to know about him—his family, his background, why he chose music, what the hell BASE jumping meant. But one look from Luca, one of his appraising stares that burrowed right under Turner’s flesh, and he couldn’t say a word.
Turner also thought Luca might be bipolar, given his frantic ups and downs. At times he became intensely focused and withdrawn, and then other times he became hyper, overly friendly, and giddy, clamoring for attention.
Turner asked Christian about his behavior.
“Is Luca on medication or something? He seems kind of manic.”
Christian chortled. “He sure is.” He mimed snorting something up his nose.
The revelation Luca might be an addict worried Turner greatly. Not for his future with the band, but Luca’s health. Turner kept himself clean because he’d seen too many people destroy their lives with drugs.
He realized, lying in bed one night, what all his worrying, and his desire to talk to Luca and get to know him better, meant: he had a crush on him.

From the time Turner began to have a sexual identity, he knew he didn’t just go for girls, though he liked girls just fine. However, he had never been what most or even he would consider a “practicing bisexual.” Largely because, growing up in his little corner of suburbia, being anything less than straight equated to being like one of those drug addicts he would later meet—certainly there were others out there, but you didn’t just go up to people and ask. The extent of his “practicing bisexuality” included fooling around with a few guys in high school and once going on a date with a guy. He wasn’t entirely sure the guy considered the outing a date, however.
He thought with despair, It’s just like you to fall for the bad boy.
Not long after Turner’s realization, the band played a show in a seedy little club, and seven people were nice enough to show up. After this failure, Luca dragged Turner to another, much busier club down the street. Luca didn’t seem at all depressed they had just done little more than annoy a handful of people. He was in one of his hyper states, and Turner wondered if he’d snorted up in the bathroom after the show.
LA clubs had not changed a bit since Turner had last been in one—when he’d turned twenty-one, three years before. Several friends, not even in his social circle anymore, had taken him out for his birthday. In the trendy California underworld, the worst things could be found in the best clubs. Turner stayed away from the back rooms, where too many things could go up his nose or into his arm—or in orifices, if he wasn’t careful.
Luca disappeared as soon as they arrived, saying he had to talk to some people. Awkward and out of place, Turner went to the bar. He ordered a whiskey and water on the rocks. The opportunity lay ahead to make a fool of himself, and he didn’t want anything stronger. Drink acquired, he tried to relax and remind himself he was still young, and young people hung out in clubs. The thumping music vibrated through his body, and he watched people gyrate on the dance floor. While lost in thought, circling a fingertip around the edge of his glass, he suddenly felt a jostling against his back and hands on his waist. He caught a whiff of familiar cologne.
“You are a beautiful boy,” Luca murmured against his ear. “Have I told you that yet?”
A tingle rushed through Turner, so hot and swift he thought someone had touched a bare electrical wire to his skin. He struggled to ignore the twitch in the crotch of his way-too-tight pants. “You haven’t, but thanks.” As Turner took a quick drink, Luca ground his narrow hips against his ass, and Turner almost choked.
“Come dance with me,” Luca said.
Turner arched an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. “You really want to?”
“Would I ask if I didn’t?” He tugged at his belt. “You’re always so uptight. Relax a little.”

Turner threw back the rest of his drink for courage and followed. He didn’t seem to have a choice. He would also kick himself forever if he didn’t comply.
On the floor, Turner got the impression Luca didn’t care if he danced, he just wanted someone to watch him dance. People were packed around them, writhing and jerking, moving to the insistent rhythm of the music. The air felt heavy, like a tangible thing pressed against Turner’s back and shoulders. Couples around them were making out. Turner caught glimpses of things he didn’t want to think about, things he didn’t want to want.
Luca looked amazing in the constantly changing, pulsing light. The colors ran over him like water, over his pale skin and fine cheekbones, glowing in his wide, shimmering eyes, ringed darkly with eyeliner. He tossed his hair and moved his hips, putting Turner in a trance.
He barely had his senses when Luca grabbed his hands and put them on his body. Luca wore vinyl pants and a silk shirt, and both fabrics felt exquisite under his fingers. He thought he might be dreaming. Then Luca turned and pressed his back against his chest, and he instinctively knew he had permission to touch wherever he wanted. He caressed his hands over Luca’s chest, down his hips, across his thighs, getting bolder as Luca responded positively. He couldn’t have hid his erection if he wanted to, and Turner didn’t even try, pressing fully against Luca’s ass.

Then, the music ended and Luca abruptly withdrew, saying he wanted a drink. Turner followed him to the bar, head spinning, aching with desire. To his dismay, when they reached the bar, Christian appeared. He seemed peeved they’d left him behind and started berating Luca. After this outburst, Luca turned all his attention on Christian. Turner, feeling like he’d had cold water thrown on him and not knowing what to do, bowed out and left the club.
He had scarcely got through the door of his apartment when he unzipped his jeans and started furiously stroking his cock. Despite the sudden damper, he’d stayed hard all the way home, the feel of Luca’s body emblazoned on his senses. He fell on the couch and closed his eyes, picturing Luca’s face in the club lights. When he came, he shot in hot bursts across his stomach, saying Luca’s name.
Luca never brought up the incident: no apology, no explanation, thankfully no declaration he’d experienced a drug-induced moment of bad decision-making. Like everything else about Luca, his motivation for driving Turner out of his mind remained a mystery.

If you're interested in checking out more of Turner's first you can purchase Risky here:

Lydia Nyx
website

Love’s First Kiss and why one woman can (and does!) write gay male romances.

2012-01-11T06:00:00.004-05:00

Hello, and thanks for stopping by for a look. I’d like to offer a huge thank you to Carson for hosting this site and giving me some time to ramble on about myself and my books.

One of the most commonly asked questions I get is: why do you, a straight woman, write M/M erotic romance?

Good question. At first I simply offered my answer of “I like it.” That was sort of stating the obvious and didn’t really offer much in the way of deep, thoughtful insight. However, I could almost see those reading my answer (the similar answers by other authors) sagely nodding their heads in agreement. It’s like asking the reader, why do you read this genre? Gee, ‘cause they like it, silly, would be the universal answer. For me the real reason goes deeper, more on that to come.

Another commonly posed question, or set of questions always revolve around the writing process itself. How do I come up with ideas, how do I plot a story? One of my most valuable tools in creating a book (or series) is my daily walk of the dogs. It’s quiet, no phone, no email, no distractions other than picking up the occasional bit o’goodness dogs tend to leave behind, so I get a lot of mental work done. During one of these walks while contemplating some plot points in my series, Sentries, the answer to that first question hit me like a sledge hammer.

This is January, the first month of our new year—Happy January! The theme this month is firsts, first books, first loves, first time. First!

What does this have to do with all that other stuff (points up) that I was just blathering on about? Funny you should ask, because today for the FIRST time I have an answer.

It’s not, however, short.

Marked Yours was a culmination of my life-long dream to be a published author, and I have to say it’s all I dreamed and a bit more. It’s a novel of firsts. My first novel, my first being tossed into the world of publishing, my first literary dream come true.

The book is chocked full of firsts and is the first in a series, Sentries. During the course of the story the main characters, our intrepid heroes Todd and Nick Ruger meet in person for the first time. They share a first kiss, which grows to first true love for both men. First kissing eventually leads to lots of first other things between the sheets.

Marked Yours in particular and the Sentries series in general isn’t about the sexual exploits of two men, though there is a bit of steam. It’s more about the course of their lives as a couple. Throughout they find danger, a boatload of action and adventure, and some big, bad nasty paranormal things to fight. Most importantly they find a bond and a love with one another. They find in each other a family.

However, before any of that could happen they had to share that first kiss, cement their bond and become the committed pair they are. Which brings me back to the question of why two men and more firsts.

Might want to get a snack and drink, I’ll wait.

Back? Good! Whew, otherwise I’d have to talk to myself—not that that’s ever happened before.

Sooo….I’m out walking the dogs one day, contemplating the affairs of my writing and while waiting on one dog to water some dead leaves when I stumble upon an epiphany about myself and why it is I enjoy reading and writing M/M romance. My answer goes much farther back to a time long before I became aware of gay romance or read that first story.

It’s because of my grandfather, who was, as far as I know, a completely straight, sort of conservative man. Interesting how things work out.

He also loved to read and watch television.

I was raised by this man, and lived in a predominantly male household. From the time I was a very little girl I was constantly telling a story and that evolved into writing them when I learned to string letters to words and words to sentences and sentences to paragraphs and…okay I can do this all day, you get the idea. As far back as I can remember this man told me I should be a writer.

I’m sure M/M romance is not what he’d had in mind, but I think he’d be happy knowing I was being published and people were reading and enjoying my stories.

My grandfather was a huge fan of reading the mystery, the more suspense and action the better. Throw in some political intrigue and he thought it was perfect. I grew up surrounded by books, literally hundreds that were in a basement library he built by hand. He was a woodworker by hobby, much like Todd Ruger as we find out when he and Nick are in their first home. All my grandfather’s favorite books had a common theme of two men, detectives or cops or whatever that were partners and friends. Men who cared deeply for one another.

Enter the male bonding theme, two men with a connection, deep love and respect for one another presented to me when I was so young I couldn’t even read.

Grandpa did more than read, he loved sports, but a physical problem kept him from being very active, so he watched television, often while reading. For years I watched football, baseball and basketball with him. In between there were shows that were staple of the television industry at the time, Combat, Five O’Clock High, Rat Patrol, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, Star Trek, Batman, the list goes on. They all had the commonality of men bonding, be they friends, fathers and sons or brothers it didn’t matter. I was immersed from a very young age in stories where the central characters were men. Men who loved one another, even if it wasn’t in the romantic sense.

My favorite was Maverick. I’ll still watch that show when given the opportunity. Two brothers who every week found some mystery to solve, or wrong to right or simply engaged in a good-guy/bad-guy chase down a deserted road and into a box canyon. From that show and those men I learned a love of a good (fictional of course) bar brawl, gun fight, chase, ghost story and an appreciation for taking a gamble in life. Times have changed and in the decades between Maverick and now there have been dozens, if not hundreds, of shows and books revolving around two men in some sort of close, loving relationship.

Okay, these guys weren’t in romantic relationships, but the groundwork for that next step was laid down and mapped out in my mind long ago and far away.

Is it really such a wonder that from there the leap to gay men and their close romantic relationships was made?

The main characters of Marked Yours are no different than the men of countless pieces of literature or viewing I grew up loving. They just have one more aspect to their lives and relationship: that of a bonded, mated, romantic couple. Todd and Nick are lovers as well as partners, with a great deal of love and respect between them. Now, how could you not like that?

For women to read, write and enjoy all male romance isn’t so strange. So, here I am, many (we won’t discuss the actual number, but those of you who know the shows of which I speak can work it out I’m sure) years later, a woman whose first novel is paranormal action/adventure with a healthy dose of romance between two men.

It makes perfect sense really, when you think about it.

I, for one, couldn’t be happier or more proud that my first published novel revolves around a theme that I loved before I knew what it was: Men loving one another, how doesn’t matter. That Marked Yours, and the books that followed were not only about the close bond men share, but one that allows them to take that bonding to the next level.

To answer the question of why the first novel I wrote and published was M/M romance, well it’s simple really, it’s what I love, it’s what fascinates me and fires my imagination. It’s what I grew up learning to love and I want to offer a big thank you to those that created those books and shows then brought them to life for one little girl to appreciate the male bond.

From the brothers Maverick, Cartwright, Simon and Winchester, to the buddies Matt Dillon and Chester, Starsky and Hutch, Jim Ellison and Blair Sandberg, Peter Burke and Neal Caffery, and a whole bunch of others, I learned how deeply men bond and love one another and came to appreciate that bond. Mostly I owe them my heartfelt gratitude.

Really, is there any other genre steeped in such tradition for me, or that would feel so natural, to write in and explore? Was there ever a question of what would be the subject matter of my first novel, Marked Yours? Hell, no!

Thanks again to Carson. I hope this month of your new blog is your first of many long and successful years. I’ve enjoyed your blog so far and hope this is my first of many entries I’ll be privileged to post here.

Bio:

Elizabeth Noble started telling stories before she actually knew how to write and her family was very happy when she learned to put words on a page. Those words turned into fan fiction that turned into a genuine love of M/M romance fiction. Being able to share her works with Dreamspinner is really a dream come true. She has a real love for all things sci-fi, futuristic, supernatural and a bit of an unnatural interest in a super-volcano in Wyoming.

Elizabeth has three grown children and is now happily owned by three mutts, and two cats. She lives in her native northeast Ohio. When she’s not writing she’s working as a veterinary nurse, so don’t be surprised to see her men with a pet or three. When at work she meets all sorts of interesting characters that often find their way into some story or another.

She also recently found and purchased the dvd set of Maverick. Go Amazon!

Elizabeth’s places on the net:
website:

buy Marked Yours at Dreamspinners Press:

The Stuff of Dreams

2012-01-09T06:00:00.003-05:00

The title for this blog post comes from the quote at the beginning of my novel Cat's Quill:

We are such stuff

As dreams are made on.

These words are spoken by Prospero in Shakespeare's The Tempest and work so well for not only for the characters in Cat's Quill but their story which is one of first love and the chance of a new life together.

Tomas Kemp has two successful novels to his name and the true belief that a successful sequel is only a matter of a little inspiration. When Tomas meets a mysterious stranger under the branches of an old oak tree, he feels compelled to tell him about a book he holds dear and the sequel he wants to read. But Cathal doesn’t share that deep belief that the sequel Tomas seeks ends happily. Cathal has seen enough of a world where stories are real to know that happy ever after is sometimes the dream that won’t come true.
But stories have never let Tomas down, and as he follows Cathal across the reality shift between their worlds, he learns that Cathal is right: Happy ever after is never just given—but sometimes, it can be fought for and won.

Tomas's search for answers also explores the fine line between imagination and reality, and between fiction and fantasy. What is reality, and do happy endings really exist, and more importantly will he be given the chance for one of his own? In order to try and make his own reality he has to find the courage to question not only himself, but what he wants of life. Tomas is not always a particularly pleasant character, due to his fear of being hurt but after meeting Cathal he finds himself beginning to thaw, as the realisation dawns that not only has he fallen in love, but there is a chance that it is returned. This is one of the facets of first time romance which I love, both as a writer, and reader – that chance the characters take, hoping that those feelings are mutual and finding out that they are. For Tomas and Cathal it's not just the emotional journey that goes with that but also taking a leap of faith to follow their dreams into another world and to grab the future you want with both hands and hold onto it.

To finish, a sneak peek at Tomas and Cathal's first kiss, as they show the magic of everything that comes with that far better than I can explain it:

Cathal wiped his palms on his trousers and then turned the page of the journal back and forth, his eyes scanning the words again. “Maybe I could help?” he suggested. “Can you tell me what the story is about so I can get more of an idea of what this kiss should, er… involve?”
“Involve?” Tomas’s voice sounded strained to his own ears. He coughed, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Umm, it’s about a writer who meets someone he thinks might be a muse.”
“I see.” Cathal nodded slowly. “Why does he think that?” He edged closer to Tomas, the book still balanced carefully on his lap.
“He’s drawn to this person he’s not long met.” The explanation sounded somewhat weak now that Tomas had to actually explain it to someone else. “It’s like they have a connection….”
“Like Alan and Roger in your other book?” Cathal frowned. “That doesn’t explain why—” He checked the name. “—Deimos might be a muse though, but then I haven’t read enough.”
Tomas opened his mouth to explain more, how Deimos seemed to appear and disappear out of thin air, how he seemed otherworldly, how Mark kept thinking about him all the time. Cathal placed one hand on Tomas’s knee, his breath warm against Tomas’s face. “Cat? What are you doing?”
“I’m getting into character.” Cathal reached over and brushed Tomas’s hair from his face. “You’re a writer, so you need to be Mark. That leaves me the role of the muse.” His voice was barely a whisper. “This scene is too good for it to be abandoned like the other one.” His eyes dropped to the page and back again. He licked his lips, his fingers tightening on Tomas’s knee. Tomas’s breath hitched.
“Yes, it is.”He swallowed again, reaching out his own hand to caress Cathal’s cheek, echoing Mark’s actions in his book. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his words following the script, his heart speeding up.
Cathal closed his eyes as he followed Tomas’s cue, slipping into a role that could have been written for him. “I think I’m in love with you,” he murmured.
Their lips brushed together, tentatively, awkwardly. Tomas pulled away, unsure, his breathing growing ragged, Cathal’s skin warm under his fingers, soft but for the slight stubble across his lower cheek, blond facial hair almost invisible. Tomas leaned in again, his lips parting this time in invitation as he pressed their mouths together. Cathal moaned softly, opening his own lips, leaning into it, his fingers threading through Tomas’s hair.
Wet skin, soft and inviting, tasting of coffee and something else Tomas could only describe as uniquely Cathal. It felt right, better than anything Tomas could have imagined. He whimpered, pulling Cathal to him, convincing himself for that moment they weren’t play acting, that this was real, that the man in his arms was someone who loved him.
The need to breathe drove them apart. Cathal’s eyes opened with a start, searching Tomas’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be.” Tomas traced Cathal’s lips with his fingers, committing the scene to memory, allowing himself a photograph he realized he wanted frozen in his mind forever. “I’m not.”

Cat's Quill is available at Dreamspinner Press

I'd like to give a big thanks to Carson and everyone at Guys Like Romance Too for this opportunity to blog and share some of my work.

Anne Barwell

Established relationships can still have firsts!

2012-01-06T06:00:00.009-05:00

Hi, everyone I’m Pender Mackie, an author of contemporary gay romance. I’m excited to be here promoting my short story, Wishful Thinking.

January is the first month of the year and appropriately, Guys Like Romance, Too! chose “firsts” for January’s theme: first date, first kiss, first lover, first “I love you” first…anything.

I have a friend who’s been in a stable relationship for years. Sometimes he’s a bit of a pessimist. One day, while we were out for a walk, he complained that being in a long-term relationship meant he’d never get to have another first.

I stood there with my mouth open as he tried to explain. After I got over the urge to smack him, I understood what he meant. He’d never get to experience the anticipation of that first kiss with a new lover.

It’s true, some firsts can only be once—I’m not trying to paraphrase Highlander, here—but there is only one first kiss ever, even if it wasn’t so great. Maybe you don’t remember that kiss. Or maybe you remember it only because the guy slobbered all over your chin.

But here’s something to think about. Even with firsts, sometimes we get a mulligan, a do-over.

If you’re not with someone right now, then you still have that first kiss with a new lover to look forward to—the racing pulse, the quick intake of breath, the almost physical jolt as lips touch for the first time. As long as you’re single, the possibility is there. Even if that kiss seems like it might be a while in coming.

If you’re in a relationship then you get the first kiss of the day. Pressing your lips to sleep-warmed skin, or against a damp, soap-scented nape as your partner dries off from the shower. You can have that everyday.

First kiss ever, first kiss with a new lover, first kiss of the day: they’re all something to look forward to. (I’ll climb off my soapbox now.)

When I wrote Wishful Thinking I tried to capture that “first” feeling. I’m happy with the way it turned out. It’s one of my favorites. Here’s the blurb and excerpt.

Quiet, reserved Derrick has never had a date. That doesn’t stop him from wishing and dreaming, especially when he’s working a boring shift at the coffee shop. On a cold, rainy evening, the shop is deserted, and Derrick daydreams about his fantasy boyfriend, Rory, a fellow university student. Derrick doesn’t know much about Rory. They’re not in the same classes. They’ve never even talked.

When Rory is his last customer of the night, Derrick comes face to face with the man of his dreams. The real Rory is even better than the fantasy and he wants more than coffee… he wants Derrick. By the end of his shift, Derrick will find out if all his fantasies can come true.

Excerpt

I looked up automatically when a figure walked past the front window of the coffee shop. The person kept going—head down, huddled under an umbrella—thank God.

I didn't want any more customers this near to closing time. My current customers looked as if they were finally getting ready to leave.

They were a young couple that had probably just started dating. They'd spent their entire time in the shop sitting quietly, holding hands, and staring dreamily into each other's eyes. They were so wrapped up in each other, I could have tap-danced on the counter and they wouldn't have noticed.

Not that I'd be likely to dance on the counter. I'm too introverted to draw that kind of attention to myself.

I'd be relieved when they left and not just because it was almost time to close. That level of mutual adoration is hard to take when you're single. Especially when you're pretty sure you're going to remain single, at least for the foreseeable future.

I pretended not to watch as the girl reached up and gently touched her boyfriend's face. He turned his head and kissed her palm. I envied them. I wanted that kind of intimacy with someone special.

I hadn't actually ever been on a date. The closest I'd been to dating was sneaking into the dugout at the neighborhood baseball diamond with Jaden Agostini a few times, back when we were both fifteen. I didn't think a couple of fumbling kisses and a quick mutual grope session met the official definition of a date. Even if it did, that had been over four years ago.

Four years without a date is a pretty sad state of affairs for anyone, but I'm kind of shy until I get to know someone. If I didn't feel so awkward around new people, it would be easier to meet a guy, talk to him, get to know him, maybe work up the nerve to ask him out.

I had a particular person in mind, but that was wishful thinking. It would never happen. Even if I had the confidence to talk to him, to dazzle him with my knowledge of obscure sci-fi trivia or my unusual sense of humor, he was far too friendly and outgoing to be interested in someone quiet like me.

The shop's door opened. A current of cold, wet air and a few aggressive raindrops escorted a last-minute customer across the threshold. The heavy rain had kept most people home tonight. I hadn't had any customers other than the lovebirds and now this guy, dripping his way across the floor.

Damn. Now that he was here, even if the couple left, I wouldn’t be able to close up a few minutes early. I'd be stuck here right up to the last minute. That would suck because I'd miss the ten o'clock bus and have to wait a half hour for the next one.

I didn't normally try to cut out early, but I had a paper due before the weekend and I was scheduled to work almost every night this week. I'm not supposed to be doing homework when I'm working, even if the place is completely devoid of customers, but if I'd ignored the rules and brought my computer, I could have at least proofed the completed part of my paper. I'd left my laptop at the dorm though, so instead of being productive, I'd spent almost my entire shift hoping for diehard coffee addicts to keep me busy, and daydreaming about my fantasy boyfriend.

Of course, now, when it was least convenient, I finally had the customers I'd wished for.

I leaned on the counter and watched resignedly as my latest patron took his time getting settled at the table in the corner—the big one with the L-shaped bench and all the cushions. Even though he was short and slim and wearing a hooded raincoat, which hid his face, I knew it was a 'he' and not a 'her' by the clothes and the build. He had a backpack too, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was a student.

Double damn. The coffee shop was close to the university. I'd served lots of students. They always ordered something inexpensive and then sat for hours pretending to study or reading the out-of-date magazines. Now I'd never catch the ten o'clock bus.

He took off the backpack and casually slung it onto a chair on the far side of the table, across from the bench. He peeled himself out of his sopping-wet jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Then he straightened and shook his hair out as if he were a wet dog.

As I stared at my customer my heart stopped, then started up again. It raced along as if I'd just guzzled a triple espresso.

I knew him. Well, technically I didn't know him, but I knew who he was. I'd seen him around. Seen him on the university's campus, hanging out, talking and laughing with his friends in the cafeteria or walking to class.

He was my fantasy boyfriend.

Wishful Thinking

Right Street, Wrong House

Scent of Attraction

Free Read - Dog Days of Summer

http://pendermackie.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pender-Mackie-Author

Thanks for reading and thanks, Carson for letting me do a little shameless promoting. J

Young Love for the New Year

2012-01-04T06:00:00.005-05:00

Ah, young love...

First love is the sweetest of all. Especially when it comes upon you unexpectedly. For Scott, he doubts he'll ever find love at all in his life. He's low on the self-esteem meter and has no friends. That is, until his math teacher pairs him with the worst student, jock Jared. He's drooled over the hot blond silently, but has said nothing. Now is his chance! Amazingly, (in Scott's mind) they get along great and form a wonderful friendship, but hold on...not everything is black and white...Jared hides a secret. Scott needles him to find out what it is, but he won't budge. Their friendship grows and grows, but the trust factor needs to also. Things progress and they find out each other is gay, which leads to Scott's first kiss! But there's still the secret...and Scott's insecurities. Will it last? Stay tuned to the twists near the end for this one.

Young love is one of my favorite topics to write about, which is why YA and teens are my favorite group. They are fickle creatures and can cause heartache, but that adds to the drama I crave as an author. I hope you enjoy Love by the Numbers!

Scott was the brainy geek with a heart of gold no one bothered to find. Jared was the school baseball star with a horrific home life no one else knew about. A twist of fate made them tutors... math. They discover friendship, then love... but is it enough?

Here's where can you find it:

Amazon Smashwords All Romance Ebooks

Where can you find out more about me?

My blog page: and facebook:

The first in the month of Firsts!

2012-01-02T06:00:00.012-05:00

Hey everyone and welcome to the month of Firsts!

*insert applause here*

Jaxx Steele back atcha to to kick off the year and the month with my first ski trip.
I always had the desire to ski. It looked like so much fun. Skiers look so cool swooshing down the snow covered slopes in those sleek looking outfits and the large shaded goggles over your face. I even fantasized about me rushing down with no poles speed skiing because it looked so cool when I watched it on the winter Olympics every four years. Let me tell you guys right now, all that came to a screeching halt when I actually tried it.

One of the things that attracted me to my boyfriend was he was a was a skier. He had the great skier body, strong, lithe and graceful. I had these grand visions of us dancing down the slopes side by side like I had seen people do when they roller skate. *shaking my head* Don’t ask. I have no idea how I even connected the two. Anyway, we had been together for almost two years when I had the bright idea to accomapny him skiing. He leaped on the thought because he hadn’t gone at all since we were together opting to spend the time with me doing other winter sports since I didn't ski.

Hou always took a long weekend visiting his family in southern Indiana when he went skiing. So the plan was set. We went to see his family for Thanksgiving that year and took a day trip to a resort with his cousins.

So there I was all keyed up looking forward to the idea all the way up the hill. When I looked down the other side my whole world started to spin. And this wasn’t even the real hill. It was the beginner slope. Elementary age children were buzzing pass me rushing excitedly down the hill and there I was--the only grown ass man on the kiddie hill--standing there with my knees shaking, trying not to throw up in the snow as I looked down the side. As I stare down this mountain all I hear is giggling all around me and screaming kids saying, "Go Mister, your holding up the line!"

the little demons

So, completely not ready, but refusing to be punked by this little kid, I decided to go for it. I did my fifteen minutes of ski class. What could happen, right? So, ignoring the caution signs in sweetheart's expression, I took the plunge. Remembering my teaching, I bent my knees, pushed off the poles and I was off. I even managed not to scream. The next thing I remember was realizing how blue the sky was and the air around filling with a crescendo of giggles and full blown laughter.

Yup. You guessed it. I wasn't on the slope a whole minute before I lost my footing and rolled down the hill head over feet landing on my back. Hou said it looked like I was purposely cartwheeling over the snow to get to the bottom. I’m convinced the only thing that stopped me from breaking my neck was that my tumbling ended quickly, but had the hill been bigger and had I gotten a little more momentum... Yes, well, that may have saved my neck and possibly my life, but it sure didn’t save my leg. I was broken in two places thus ending my skiing career.

I still watch the skiing and ski jumping competitions on the winter Olympics every four years, but that is the closest I ever want to get to it again. When Hou gets the itch to go skiing I continue to accompany him to Paoli Peaks or wherever else he wants to go. He hits the slopes having a fantastic time and I hit the club house with my hot chocolate and my Nook. He comes back all excited regaling me with his triumphs over this hill and that hill and telling me how good it feels swooshing through the brisk clean air. I nod my head attentively loving his excited expressions and the sound of happiness in his voice as I add another splash of cognac to my drink.

Because my first ski adventure didn’t quite turn out the way I planned it, I decided to write about Greg’s first ski trip to Lake Tahoe. His didn’t turn out the way he planned either, but it was a hell of a lot better than mine! LOL Enjoy!

Blurb:

Gregorio Santos was not like his co-workers. They rushed to the warm temperatures and white sand beaches of the Caribbean for vacation. He preferred the white cold of the ski slopes. Greg is single and determined to remain that way despite his loneliness. While on vacation at Lake Tahoe, an accident strands the sexiest man he had met in years at his cabin. Will his resolve to stay single outlast being trapped with a man that gives the term 'bringing sexy back' new meaning?

Available at Freya’s Bower

Excerpt:

Greg looked over into a grin on Thomas sensual lips that spoke volumes. He opened his mouth to say something, but another voice interrupted them.

“Tom! Tom, its Stephanie! Are you there?”

Tom chuckled at the startled look on Greg’s face. “That’s the radio in the other room. All of the cabins have them in case of an emergency,” he explained. He put his mug on the coffee table and rushed by him.

Greg shook his head and watched Thomas’s his long strides take him into a small room beneath the stairs.

“Yeah, Stephanie, I’m here.”

Greg followed and when he appeared in the doorway found Thomas sitting at a small desk, talking into an old hand radio. His soft blond hair fell forward as he leaned over to speak. When he turned his head to acknowledge Greg’s presence in the doorway, his profile was devastatingly handsome.

“Tom, the snow doesn’t seem to be letting up! It will probably snow throughout the night! What cabin are you in?”

“Number twelve.”

“Oh! Then you’ve met Mr. Santos. He’s a very nice man, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you stay there until morning.” The static filled announcement came, “We will not be able to dig you out until the snow stops.”

“Okay, Steph. Keep us posted on the weather, in case it stops some time tonight, will you?”

“Sure thing, Tom. Good night.”

Thomas released the connection button and turned to Greg. ”Well, its official,” he said throwing his hands up. “I’m broke down and snowed in.”

“You don’t say?”

He chuckled. “And you’re Mister Santos, huh?”

Greg smiled. “Oh, I never did tell you my name, did I?” He chuckled and left the room. “Sorry about that. My name is Greg, well it’s Gregorio, but I like Greg.”

“Then Greg it is. Nice to meet you, Greg. So, is it okay?”

“Is what okay?”

Thomas grabbed his hand, stopping him and turned him around. “Can I spend the night with you?”

Damn. Talk about your loaded question.

Greg slowly pulled his hand out of Tom’s. It had already started to tingle uncomfortably from his touch.

“Of course. What kind of person would I be to throw a man out in the snow with no way home?” He turned quickly and headed for the kitchen. “I came down to make something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“I’m hungry for a lot of things.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore Tom’s statement. “Well, I hope one of those things is hamburger.”

Thomas sat back down on the sofa with a chuckle. “Love them.”

“Good because that’s what I’m making for dinner along with some half decent tasting microwave fries. I wasn’t expecting company so….”

“Hey, you won’t hear me complaining. I will be grateful for whatever you decide to share with me.”

Greg sent a questioning look across the room and their eyes met. Tom’s crystal blue eyes were smiling at him over the mug while he drank. Greg lowered his gaze and flipped the burgers he put on earlier.

Easy Gregorio, calm down. No need to jump the gun. You just met this man. You are only together by sheer happenstance. Tomorrow when they come to dig out his truck, you will continue your vacation as planned and you’ll probably never cross paths again. That’s usually what happens when you meet fine men like Thomas.

Jaxx Steele

website

Blog

Who wants to spend Christmas with a House Elf?

2011-12-30T06:00:00.002-05:00

Hi all! Hope everyone isn’t already frazzled by the Holiday’s yet. LOL! And a big thank you to Jaxx and Carson for having me here. Being a relatively new author, I’m still trying to get my name and my work out there, so any kind of promo is a godsend. You guys are great! Huggles!

Now, about my new release. It’s a M/M Christmas short (6900 words) from Cobblestone Press called My House Boy Elf. Its conception was actually due to pure coincidence and a funny conversation I had on Facebook with another author.

You see, I hate housework. I absolutely loath it. So when the writing starts to get deep, invariably, so do the chores. And since it’s just me, the DH, and the dog, well, not many options remain for who is going to do what. Been trying to train the dog, but being male, well, he’d rather lick himself than keep his toys from underfoot. Anyhoo, the chores pile up, the DH complains, and the dog keeps right on licking. Not very conducive for my Muse, I can tell you. Especially when you have a fantastic love scene planned and you have dishes to wash and laundry to do. A real mood killer, that. *sigh*

So, there I was, elbow deep in dirty dish water and working out the scene in my head. It wasn’t working. The scene or getting the dishes done. I needed a break. Drying my hands, I got online and went to my Facebook page. There, I ranted a bit saying that I wish I had someone to do my housework and wouldn’t it be great if it was some gorgeous guy. Preferably naked. You can imagine the comments. Everything from naked twins to houseboys. Then a fellow author, Adonis Devereux, said wouldn’t it be nice if they were houseboy elves. Of course that gave me all kinds of ideas for a book. I just didn’t know how much until a couple days later when my pub contacted me about a new line for Christmas. Gawd, I thought my eyes were going to bug out of my head after I read that e-mail. LOL! It was Fate, had to be. I began coming up with different ideas that night and finally settled one a couple of days later. Unfortunately, it won’t be for the new line because I went over the word count, but my pub loved it and put it in their Wicked line. It’s all good though. The story turned out well and I couldn’t be happier with the response I’ve had so far.

The story has different elements in it. Christmas themed, of course, with a little paranormal and lots of hot man loving. You see, two of Santa’s elves (who are lifemates) are the guardians of a powerful artifact that can give the owner anything they desire. But the power can only be used at Christmas. Being elves and deeply in love, they want to share that good fortune with others. They also own a business called House Boy Services. Perfect for finding the right recipient for their gift. This year, it’s an old friend and former employee, Donovan Eliot. He owns a gay club and hasn’t had a lover since his died from prostate cancer three years prior. He’s alone and in deep need of someone to love. The artifact chooses House Boy Services newest employee, Trace Moore, as Donovan’s True Love. Young and on his own, his parents kicked him out at the age of seventeen for being gay. He’s not had it easy and has been notified that he has two weeks to find another place to live. The perfect Christmas gift, right? But Fate and two of Santa’s elves have plans for these two. Plans that involve letting go of the past and pushing aside insecurities to find a love to last a lifetime. Oh, and lets not forget about the really steamy man lovin’. *wink*

It's the Christmas season and two of Santa's elves have a very special mission. Bring two deserving souls together for the ultimate gift ~ True love.

                 Trace Moore has been alone and on his own since his parents kicked him out at age seventeen. Now 22, the only thing he wants for Christmas is a new place to live since he's being evicted.

                 Donovan Eliot has wealth, respect, and security. What he doesn't have is someone to share it all with. But losing his lover and best friend to prostate cancer three years prior has made Donovan wary of getting back into the dating pool.

                 That all changes when he spies a gorgeous little man dressed as a sexy elf working in his club.

                 The attraction is instant for these two, but can old wounds and insecurities be overcome?

                 With a sprinkle of Christmas magic, anything is possible.

Thank you again to Jaxx and Carson. Had a great time telling about the conception of My House Boy Elf and I hope those who read it enjoy it for the escape it is. And a very, Merry Christmas to everyone. Hope your Holidays are warm and filled with love. Hugs!

Kimberly Hunter

Stop by my blog for future releases and find out what I’m working on next.

Kimberly's Blog

Vampires and Werewolves in The Big Easy? Why not!?

2011-12-28T06:00:00.005-05:00

The Vampire & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Christmas

Blurb:
Vampires and werewolves don’t mix … or do they?
Before there were three, there were two. When a vampire swoops in to save Trevor from a rogue gang’s blood sport, the werewolf must fight his own inhibitions. The magic of New Orleans and the holiday season bring together these two unlikely lovers.

Such a pleasure to be visiting with Guys like Romance, Too! Do you have your hot cocoa with marshmallows? All snuggly by the fire? It’s hard to believe that 2012 lies just around the corner. Sigh. The year’s passed by incredibly quickly.

As a writer, there is some trepidation when delving into new territory. My holiday novella The Vampire & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Christmas serves as my first foray into the m/m genre. Yes, that means I’ve lost my m/m virginity.

Honestly, I’ve gotten to know my characters Lawrence and Trevor so well over the past year that they told me their story and I’m merely the scribe. All of my published work so far crosses boundaries. I’ve written m/f, f/f/f and m/m/f. (It’s an erotic alphabet!) The first book in this series, The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome starts off with Trevor and Lawrence’s relationship already established. We learn a little bit about their history, and how they met but there are five years that they spent together. After receiving a few letters from readers and feedback via reviews, I decided to share some of their backstory.

Researching Christmas traditions in the Big Easy was entertaining. While I’ve visited New Orleans a few times, it hasn’t been around the holidays. I consulted a few friends from the area, combed through local event websites and watched videos to capture the magic of Christmas at the Oaks. Although, I did take liberties with the twosome’s romp through the park.
Here’s a little appetizer of the tale:

Excerpt (unedited):

His limbs tensed with anticipation. The scent of pine needles and moist earth tingled his senses. Trevor flexed his muscles, loosening up, and trying to relax before they took off. Lawrence had suggested trekking out to The City Park for their escapade. While living in the city, Trevor had heard of the extravagant displays at Christmas at the Oaks, he’d never seen it for himself. He never had someone to share the moment with, let alone someone he loved.
Love. Yes, just thinking about the emotion used to set his heart to aching, wishing for a place to belong, and a family to call his own. Now, it made him think of Lawrence, and what they’d shared together. If anyone would’ve told him a month ago that he’d be living with a man, a vampire at that, in the French Quarter, well, who knows what he would have done.

As they drew closer to the park, the magnificence of the lights and rounded lanterns hanging from the trees drew Trevor’s attention. So bright that they blocked out the illuminations of the night’s stars. He marveled at Santa’s sleigh in red lights being pulled by a team of alligators. A surprised bark of laughter burst from his chest, and he covered his mouth, embarrassed at his outburst.
“Only in New Orleans would Santa enlist the help of gators,” Trev said.
“Helps him get through those soggy marshes in the bayou,” Law joked back.

Hope you enjoyed that little taste of The Vampire & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Christmas. Once again, thanks for the warm welcome. Happy Holidays!
Louisa Bacio

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HOW HOT DO YOU WANT YOUR MEN UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE?

2011-12-26T06:00:00.004-05:00

Did that grab your attention? And notice I say plural. I personally love my men in all flavors and tastes and those who know my writing know I write about almost anything. From BDSM to ménage and all levels of kink, there’s little I don’t enjoy. BUT…my favorite my far is writing m/m pieces. I find I achieve more satisfaction than writing almost anything else. Let’s face it – passion is passion and it doesn’t matter whether you’re in a hetero or homosexual relationship we all crave being the center of attention and getting that look from our significant other. You know the one I mean. It’s the one where a single look can steal your breath and make you crave one too many naughty things – whether above the covers or beneath. It’s the one that makes you want to drop to your knees and…

Whew! Is it hot in here yet? You know I don’t necessarily consider myself romantic but as I was writing a couple of blogs this morning I realized - eh, I’m hopeless. I think there’s a little bit of that in all of us and there’s something about the holidays that brings out not only the need to share moments with friends and family but also the very wicked side, right? Don’t you have those rather shameless fantasies about finding your significant other under the Christmas tree in nothing else but a large red bow and perhaps a thick hard on? Oops, I’ve done it now.

When I was thinking about penning a holiday piece I wanted to not only combine a touch of the naughty in my hot m/m piece but a lot of angst at worrying about being alone and what the family think – especially one who’s been trying to hook you up with the “right” girl for years. What would you do? Fake it or try for something else? Well, there’s a twist in this one of course. It wouldn’t be Christmas after all if there wasn’t. Tell me this - have you been a very good boy or girl this year? I haven’t and I’m proud of it. Nope. Call me the original wicked girl and you got my number. Are you willing to confess to something yourself? Purr-haps?

Take a taste of Mr. Mistletoe and see what you think.

MR MISTLETOE

RELEASING FROM NAUGHTY NIGHTS PRESS

Just what are you hoping for this Christmas?

SYNOPSIS

Brendon Cannon was ready to make a New Year’s Resolution early and it included seducing one hot chocolate bartender under the mistletoe. Making a proclamation in the middle of a bar to his best friend, too bad Brendon didn’t have to guts to follow through. Recently divorced and hiding behind a mask he was unable to admit to himself he was gay let alone to his family and the big Christmas event was just days away. But after a flirtatious night Brendon found himself embroiled in a moment of heated passion that set him on fire. Terrified of his reckless behavior he pushed away from Kris completely.

More than intrigued by the man Kris had no idea what to do until a little elf decided to intervene. A plan formulated it was going to take more than a bit of Christmas Magic to give Brendon the courage he needs to be himself. But as luck and bit of holiday spirit wraps around Brendon reminding him of what he desires the most, he’s given a special gift and one he will never forget.

EXCERPT

Eyeing the stunning bartender Brendon sighed and closed his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the fluttering sounds of Christmas music and laughter as people enjoyed a festive party and yet he only had shameless thoughts and sinful cravings in his mind. Smiling, he lifted his drink and licked the rim of the glass as he envisioned the very same dark skinned bartender as the tasty entertainment for the night stripping, his long, naked legs wrapped around a tall steel pole. Then sometime after the stud performed to the jazzed crowd he selected a person from the audience to drag underneath the mistletoe. Brendon could clearly see fantasy man beckoning to him with the crook of his finger as he grinned and licked his lips.

And he could imagine the way the man tasted like peppermint candy canes freshly yanked from the twinkling Christmas tree. Somehow Brendon could almost feel the touch of his skin as the carved flesh sizzled beneath his fingers. Inhaling deeply he savored the real scent of the man, musky and full of such sex appeal his cock begged to be freed. Sliding his hand down to his crotch he cupped his groin and let out his breath.

“Wow. That must be some wet dream, my friend. Given your rather heated reaction to whatever you have to tell me what you’re thinking about so that I can have the same sexy fantasy. Please. I’m your best friend here.”

Brendon allowed his breath to escape as he opened his eyes and focused on the bartender and somehow could imagine him lying naked on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire. “Jay, I’m making my New Year’s Resolution early. I’m going to fuck that hunk of a man for Christmas if it’s the last thing I do. I swear to God,” Brendon Cannon breathed as he his leg thumped aimlessly against the bar and eyed the stunning chocolate-laced man bartending behind the long mahogany bar.

Choking, Jay slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from spewing his drink. “Shit! That threw me. You never talk like that. Granted he’s hot and you have to be horny given your lack of sex latterly, but lord. Hell, you have me all hot and bothered and I’m not even into men.”

“Yeah well maybe it’s the desperate craving and the wet dreams I’ve been having every night since we first came into this hoppin’ joint.”

“Or maybe it’s the third bourbon and coke.”

Brendon resisted giving his best friend the finger. One of the only friends he’d allowed to know he was bi-sexual, Jay had never judged him. It could be because they’d seen each other through failed marriages and less than lackluster sex lives over the last several years. Alone and lonely he wasn’t sure he could face the damn holiday season going to his sister’s house which would be filled with family, holiday decorations and good spirits all the way around. Being the only unattached brother he was usually nailed to the wall with questions. Why don’t you have a girlfriend? Why don’t you let your sister fix you up with someone? Why do you like being single?

“I can see that look in your eye. Why don’t you talk to him? If I weren’t straight I might do him.” Jay gave Brendon a sly smile.

“How very cave man of you.” Brendon licked the rim of his glass and watched the man move in his tight black jeans and body hugging crimson tee shirt and his cock ached. Dear God he had it bad for the chiseled hunk with twinkling midnight eyes. “Talk? What the hell would I have to say? Hi, I want to fuck your brains out?”

“How about, hi I’m Brendon and would love to invite you out for a drink?”

“I doubt he’s gay.” But the thought had crossed his mind. He’d caught the hunk of a man gazing at him more than once.

“Well we could always get the two of you under the mistletoe down there and find out,” Jay teased as he pointed to the hanging plant tied in scarlet string.

Brendon slapped him on the arm and cringed yet the thought was indeed beguiling. “We’ll see what happens.”

“Jesus Christ you’re pathetic. You’re finally at a point in your life you can let people in on your little secret so you can enjoy going out and engaging in an actual relationship and you find a guy you’re interested in and attracted to but you won’t do anything about it. What’s wrong with you?”

Brendon snorted. “My family and the rest of our friends who won’t get it.”

“I swear to God I’m going to call your sister right now and tell her myself.” Pulling out his cell phone Jay turned it on and inched away from Brendon.

“You do and I castrate you!” Yet Brendon knew his friend was right. It was time to come clean. If his family didn’t like it oh well. Puffing out his chest he could envision the look of horror on his sister’s face and his brothers shying away. There was nothing like being from a huge Catholic family to stop you in your tracks. Nibbling on the freebie peanuts he shook his head. Not going to happen.

“Have it your way but I’ve heard Santa does grant wishes such as these.” Holding up his not quite empty drink he caught the bartender’s eye. “So we play a little. So we tease.”

Tease? Goddamn he’d love to wrap his mouth around the guy’s cock and suck until his cum filled the back of his throat. Narrowing his eyes Brendon couldn’t keep his gaze off the gorgeous man and he didn’t even know the bartender’s name. But as the six foot something all sculpted male sauntered in their direction Brendon wasn’t sure he cared if he ever knew the sexy hunk’s name. Thrill me, fuck me, fill me… Admonishing his ridiculous thoughts Brendon cleared his throat as the stud sauntered toward them.

“Another of the same or are you ready for something a bit saucier?” His deep voice reverberated across the bar.

Brendon opened and closed his mouth fearful the guy could read his thoughts. “Whatever you suggest.”

“Then I suggest a flame thrower for two sexy men such as yourselves,” the bartender cooed.

“A flame thrower?” Jay asked as he stole a glance in Brendon’s direction, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“Something to warm not only the cockles of your heart but somewhere much lower.”

Brendon swallowed hard as a trickle of perspiration slid down the back of his neck. Suddenly hot in the bar he was afraid he was going to pass out.

“I’m Kris by the way,” the chocolate hunk leaned over the bar, his voice dripping with sensuality.

“Chris with a C?’ Brendon squeaked. Why the hell did he care?

“With a K like Kris Kringle and I’m much naughtier,” Kris cooed as he cocked his head.

“We’ll take two,” Jay croaked as he brushed his hand through his hair.

“Good choice. Comin’ right up,” Kris said and eased back from the bar. Whistling Santa Claus is Coming to Town he grinned and swayed his hips back and forth.

Talk about full court press. Was Kris actually coming on to him?

“Shit! That was a blatant come on if I ever heard of one,” Jay said through clenched teeth.

WHERE TO FIND ME

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Email: cassandre@cassandredayne.com

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