Book Blitz for All the Way to Shore by C.J. Elliot (Excerpt and Giveaway)

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Title: All the Way to Shore

Author: CJane Elliott

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: 11/23/16

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 56,000

Genre: Romance, Contemporary

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Synopsis

Jonathan Vallen has never felt good enough. A gentle musician who loves to garden, he’s woefully unsuited to running Vallen Industries, the family business. When his father hires a hotshot executive, Marco Pellegrini, to save the company, Jonathan moves away and leaves his humiliation behind. A year later and forty pounds lighter, Jonathan runs into Marco on an LGBT cruise. Marco doesn’t recognize him, the sparks fly, and Jonathan pretends to be someone else for the week—Jonah Rutledge—someone good enough to be loved.

Marco Pellegrini has always been driven. He rose from poverty to the pinnacle of business success, and he’ll do anything to protect his reputation—including hiding his bisexuality. Having saved Vallen Industries, he’s weary of the rat race and ready for a more meaningful life. When Marco meets his soul mate for that new life—Jonah Rutledge—on an LGBT cruise, he prepares to stop hiding and start living.

Back on land, the romance crashes when Marco discovers his perfect man is not only a lie but the son of his boss, Frederick Vallen. Jonathan resolves to win Marco back, but Frederick takes vengeful action. Jonathan and Marco must battle their own fears as well as Frederick’s challenge to get to the future that awaits them on the horizon.

Excerpt

Jonathan eyed the moon and waited for Marco, who was getting something from the bar to bring back with them to his stateroom. He smiled up at the stars, heart full, ready to ride the wave of this fairy tale all the way to shore. Then a hand caressed his neck, and he turned to smile at his handsome prince. Marco smiled back, his pendant glimmering on his chest and a bottle in his hand.

“What did you get?”

“Courvoisier.”

“Nice.”

“I thought it’d be nice for an after-dinner drink as we listen to Debussy.”

They strolled along the deck. “We are almost too fancy for words.”

Marco chuckled. “I’ve never been accused of being fancy before.”

Jonathan eyed him, tall and elegant with his black curls and Roman nose. “You seem fancy to me. Or, well, sophisticated is more like it.”

“If only Mama could hear you. She’d know her bambino had made it in the world.”

“You’re funny.”

Jonathan followed Marco into his stateroom, letting his Jonah Persona take the lead lest he pass out from sheer nervousness. “Nice digs.” Digs? Where’d that come from?

“Thanks.” Marco picked up a large envelope that had been shoved under the door, glanced at the front of it, and tossed it to join a pile of others on the desk. “Work faxes. They don’t seem to get I’m on vacation in the middle of the ocean. They can wait.”

A shiver took hold of Jonathan, thinking of Father and how totally like him it was to be bugging his CEO in the middle of his vacation.

“You aren’t cold, are you?” Marco asked.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s good.” And I’m running off at the mouth. Cool it.

“Oh, okay. Good. Let me get the Debussy up on my iPod. They have a docking station with pretty decent speakers in here.” Marco sounded a little nervous himself.

As Marco fiddled with the iPod, Jonathan opened the Courvoisier and poured each of them a moderate amount, thinking they could both use some loosening up. “Do you want yours over ice?”

Marco turned. “No. That’s okay. There should still be some ice in the bucket if you like it that way. Here we go.” He pushed a button and Debussy’s La Mer started to play.

They sat in two armchairs at one end of the large room, listening to Debussy’s sensual and passionate music while sipping the brandy. The music swelled and crashed down in eerie imitation of the ocean all around them. With the curtains drawn back, they stared out at the real thing, moonlight dappling the midnight waves. Everything about this moment was surreal—a beautiful dream.

After a time, Marco set down his glass, his eyes burning into Jonathan’s. Jonathan gulped down the rest of his drink for courage and put his glass next to Marco’s. Marco held out his hand, and they rose from their chairs. As Jonathan followed Marco to the bed, his palms grew clammy and his heart raced so much he thought he might pass out. Now that his Jonah Persona had been successful in luring Marco to bed, performance anxiety crowded out everything else. God. It had been so long since he’d had sex. Did he even know what he was doing? Anthony’s voice chimed in on the proceedings. Relax, doll! It’s just like riding a bicycle. You never forget. Now, hop on that man and ride!

Purchase

Dreamspinner Press | Amazon

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Meet the Author

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After years of hearing characters chatting away in her head, CJane Elliott finally decided to put them on paper and hasn’t looked back since. A psychotherapist by training, CJane enjoys writing sexy, passionate stories that also explore the human psyche. CJane has traveled all over North America for work and her characters are travelers, too, traveling down into their own depths to find what they need to get to the happy ending.

CJane is an ardent supporter of LGBTQ equality and is particularly fond of coming out stories.

In her spare time, CJane can be found dancing, listening to music, or watching old movies. Her husband and son support her writing habit by staying out of the way when they see her hunched over, staring intensely at her laptop.

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One lucky winner will receive an ebook of their chose from CJane’s backlist.
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Release Day Blitz for ‘Tow Trucks & New Year’s Kisses (Cupcakes & Brews #1) ‘ by Lila Leigh Hunter (giveaway)

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Title: Tow Trucks & New Year’s Kisses

Series: Cupcakes & Brews, #1

Author: Lila Leigh Hunter

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 21, 2016

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 10,100 words

Genre: Romance, Gay, Pansexual, Cisgender

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Synopsis

A Jag with out-of-state plates is the last car Scott DeLaney expected to find when answering a tow call as a favor to his drunken godson. But, the tall man in the fedora seems like a nice reward until Scott finds out the stranger’s destination. Yes, he’d take care of the brooding man, but he has a selfish reason for it.

Finding himself in a ditch after dodging a deer is the least of Patrick Samuels’s problems when his rescuer arrives, wearing a tuxedo and driving a hot pink flatbed. Perhaps his older brother’s scheme will benefit Patrick after all.

Who knew that a New Year’s kiss is far more efficient than any boardroom strategy to seal a deal?

Excerpt

The rumble of an engine brought him back to his cold predicament. He adjusted his fedora and covered his mouth with his scarf as he moved closer to his brother’s Jag to signal the newcomer. It had been thirty-nine minutes. At least they had arrived before he froze his balls off. The truck lights illuminated the area, making Patrick cover his eyes. It took him a moment to readjust to the dark night after moving out of its reach. The flatbed was better than he had expected in a small town in the Valley. He did a double take when he realized it was hot pink, not exactly your everyday color. Well, that’s what he could see without being blinded again, anyway. The driver’s door opened, and Patrick moved closer. Before he could acknowledge the driver, Patrick ran out of words. A tall man in a well-tailored tuxedo stepped out of the truck, the lights reflecting on the shiny tips of his dress shoes. Patrick continued to gawk since the man was putting on some type of dirty work coat. He moved even closer, wanting to examine his savior’s features. They seemed to be about the same height, but the trucker had broader shoulders. Patrick was mesmerized by the geeky glasses and the long beard that concealed a hint of a smile. He wanted to run his tongue over the man’s thin upper lip and feel the coarse hairs partially hiding it.

The thwack of the closing door startled him back to reality, and the knowing smirk on the other man’s face made his body warm up for the first time that night. “About time,” he said, trying to cover his discomfort. He followed the trucker’s movements as he checked the time.

“I quoted you forty-five minutes, Mr. Samuels. I arrived with three minutes to spare.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Patrick said over his shoulder as he made his way back to the car. “You know you’re a little overdressed to respond to a tow call, right?”

“You’re correct, Mr. Samuels, but my superhero cape is at the dry cleaners. The tux will have to do for now.”

Patrick turned to berate the smartass but collided with him instead. The trucker held Patrick’s biceps, preventing him from falling, and once again, Patrick stared at the man’s lips. He shook his head to break the connection and winced at the pain instead. The cold and the bruises were getting to his brain

“You need to be careful, Mr. Samuels. You don’t want to hurt yourself any further.” The tow driver released one of Patrick’s biceps and traced Patrick’s bruised cheek with a long, cold finger.

Patrick shivered and immediately pulled away from the wanted but unnerving touch. “If you’re done manhandling me, Mr…”

“You forgot my name already? It’s Scott, baby face,” Scott said before tapping Patrick’s fedora.

The vibration traveled all the way to Patrick’s cock and back up to his nipples. The cold had been forgotten too. Even so, Patrick couldn’t believe his traitorous body’s response to the man’s forwardness. Yeah, if they were anywhere else, he’d be the one propositioning Mr. Scott, but they were in the middle of the boonies, for God’s sake. He couldn’t be that desperate. After looking into those hazel eyes again, he might have to change his opinion.

“No matter how much I’m enjoying this, we need to get moving before we have to ring in the New Year inside the truck.”

©2016 Lila Leigh Hunter
All Rights Reserved

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NineStar Press | Amazon | Allromance eBooks/OmnitLit | Barnes & Noble Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

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Meet the Author

Lila Leigh Hunter is the pen name of a Puerto Rican author with a hyphenated surname. Born and raised on the island, Lila grew up making up stories her siblings pretended to like. But no matter what they say, as the youngest of six, she’s still their mom’s favorite. According to the dusty diplomas on her wall, she’s an architectural designer living in Southern Texas with her husband and four military brats.

She spends most of her free time writing homoerotic romances about middle-aged men finding happiness and the rest hiding from pesky house chores. When outside of her cave, she likes to observe people and try to guess their stories. Sometimes she wishes the voices in her head were real; going out with the boys in her books sounds like a plan made in heaven.

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Three lucky winners will each win an ebook copy of Tow Trucks & New Year’s Kisses

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Check out the Last Splash of Summer with Beach Rental Anthology (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title:  Beach Rental, M/M Anthology

Author: M.T. Aspen, Asta Idonea, Dale Cameron Lowry, Lynn Townsend, Jamie Lowe, & Rob Rosen

Publisher: Torquere Press

Release Date: September 24, 2016

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32,000 Words

Genre: Romance, Contemporary Romance, Erotic-Romance

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Synopsis

In Drinks Over Sunset by M.T. Aspen, Vagabond Witt’s flight from his past is unexpectedly stalled by a gorgeous expat. But if Dean holds on too tightly, he’ll only inflict more pain on the man he loves. In Lick by Asta Idonea, Jay is unimpressed when his parents drag him on a seaside holiday to Bournemouth. However, the English summer heats up when he meets sexy ice cream seller Aland. In Pacific Rimming by Dale Cameron Lowry, Turning forty makes Mike feel old, so his husband, Ken, helps him recapture his youth in a ménage a trois with a gorgeous younger man. Can what started as a one-night stand transform into a threesome that lasts?

In Sea Salt & Chocolate by Lynn Townsend, Marriage is hard work, everyone knows that. Will a summer vacation lead to reigniting sparks between Eric and Temple, or will it tear their family apart? In Weekend Encounter by Jamie Lowe, Jackson may not be looking for romance during a weekend getaway with his friends, but that doesn’t mean romance isn’t looking for him. When Jackson encounters Logan, his plan to third wheel with his buddies is derailed in the best way possible. In Yin and Yang by Rob Rosen, An unexpected early morning encounter between a surfer and California newbie leads to much more than either ever expected along a deserted stretch of pristine beach. Love, it seems, is in the misty sea air!

Excerpt

Sea Salt & Chocolate

by Lynn Townsend

“The carpet’s stainproof,” Eric said, quiet under his breath as Temple stood over the spot while Miriam sobbed on the sofa. “We can just rag it up, not a big deal.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Temple retorted, very quietly. The sentiment was entirely sincere, for that moment in time, but not something he really wanted Miriam to glom on to and drag out as ammunition later in life.

“Ya always did have an uptight streak a mile wide,” Eric said. He had already fetched a washcloth and was blotting up the stain. Astonishingly enough, the white carpet was reporting back clean.

Miriam took advantage of her parents cleaning the carpet to flee the scene. By the time Eric had finished blotting up chocolate milk and carefully drying the spot, she was back from a complete exploration of the house—excluding, of course, her brother’s room, he had locked it against her, and even then, Temple could hear her banging on the door and demanding to be let in, along with A.J.’s crackling baritone denials—and declared “I’m bored.”

“We’ve been here for—” Temple checked his watch “—twenty minutes. You have at least another forty minutes before you’re allowed to be bored.”

“There’s nothin’ to do, Dad,” she complained.

“What would you be doing if you were at home?”

“Watchin’ YouTube.”

“Get me your phone and I’ll hook you up to the wireless,” Eric said. A.J. had registered a number of complaints about Miriam getting a phone so young, since he’d had to wait ’til he was twelve before they’d added his line, whereas Miriam got her phone only a few months back. Temple had gotten tired of Miriam constantly stealing his phone and playing Minecraft on it. It had been much easier, not to mention peaceful, to just let everyone in the house have a device.

Temple sighed, gazing down at his husband, who remained on the floor while he dealt with a six-year-old’s crisis. Eric had gone back to school, pursuing a degree in architecture, but he’d also taken on most of the household duties, including the emotional nurturing of their children, and at the same time, Temple had discovered himself shoved to the side. Their children went to Eric for comfort first, and Temple only when Eric wasn’t available. Oddly, Temple found he missed it. Missed little arms thrown around his neck, missed the trembly smiles after getting a Band-Aid.

And whose fault is that? He asked himself. You were eager enough to give it up, when Eric offered. Your family’s not broken yet, you can still fix it before it gets too far off track. And Eric’s right. I can’t remember the last time we had a lot of time together, without any responsibilities.

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Torquere Press

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Publisher of GLBT fiction books http://www.torquerepress.com to offer the finest in erotic LGBT romance available.

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In the Spotlight: Immortal Watch ( Godsbane Prince 2) by Olivia Helling (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title: Immortal Watch

Series: Godsbane Prince 2

Author: Olivia Helling

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: Sept 23, 2016

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 63,000 words

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Horror

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Synopsis

Bonded soul mates. Shocking secrets. Protecting the one he loves could destroy everything…

Ilyas defeated the Dark God and won the spoils of a lifetime: a new kingdom, a new soulmate, and a chance at revenge. Just when he has the chance to humiliate the brother who sold him out, Ilyas learns a closely-guarded secret. He has a son, and now he’ll do everything he can to protect him.

Jem’s life was pure loneliness before he met Ilyas. But with the Dark God thwarted, Jem is completely powerless. When Ilyas begins to devote his full attention to the baby, Jem becomes determined to win his soulmate back.

After allying with a powerful secret society, Jem conspires to deliver an uninhabited world where Ilyas’ young son can truly be safe. But Jem didn’t realize that his new alliance comes at a high price, one that may cost him the love of Ilyas forever.

Immortal Watch is a spellbinding LGBT dark fantasy novel. If you like rich world-building, captivating storytelling, and edge-of-your-seat action, then you’ll love this story of love and horror from Olivia Helling.

Excerpt

Ilyas cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”
I breathed deep to avoid stuttering. “What would be wrong?”
“Just that I miss that smile of yours.” Ilyas smiled in turn.
For a heartbeat, I expected him to clasp my cheek, to draw me close, to envelop me in an embrace, to kiss me breathless, like he had when I had awoken to find myself his tawam rohi . Ilyas closed the display box and returned it to the drawer under the berth.
I exhaled. Of course not. Ilyas had promised to teach me all about kissing, and more, but he’d spoken in the heat of the moment when I’d awoken. Perhaps the fantasy of teaching me excited him more than the reality. My stomach sank.
After all, I wasn’t a eunuch. When Ilyas had still been the prince heir of Nuriya, his harem full of buxom ladies and eager lads, the male form hadn’t seemed to displease him. So long as they were eunuchs, not proper men, as Nuriyite decorum dictated. Nuriyites heaped rules upon everything from eating to sex. Lumians didn’t care, especially when sex wouldn’t provide more mouths to feed.
Or perhaps the fault lay in me, as a person.
Ilyas sank onto the berth with a big sigh. His features seemed drawn and stressed. I perched on the bed next to him, reaching to pet his hair. He groaned, and I froze.
I wanted more. I wanted to learn how to kiss. I wanted to learn how to wrap my thighs around his waist. I wanted—
“It will be fine, Jem,” he said.
I never used to be so selfish. He shouldered the fate of Lumi, and I couldn’t help him. All I did was lie wide awake at night, planning to demand more from him, planning to distract him.
“We can play a game of Go,” he said. “And I will wipe the deck with you this time.”
“Like the last eleven times?” I teased him.
“This one is my game.”

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Meet the Author

Olivia Helling doesn’t believe in love at first sight… but maybe, just maybe, it blossoms along a few books. That is, after all, how she fell in love with her husband.

Olivia writes about the darkness and flaws from within, the struggle with self-confidence, self-perception and fear of failure, and fantasy and historical worlds that refuse to allow love between men. So be warned: happily ever after is not guaranteed.

The protagonist and love interest don’t always end up together by the end of one book. But when they finally come together, their love will be a thing of beauty.

Want to stay up-to-date on Olivia’s latest books? Sign up for her newsletter at: http://oliviahelling.com/snowmancer-emails

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Love Contemporary Romance? Check Out ‘Becoming Rory’ by Ashavan Doyon (excerpt/giveaway)

Title:  Becoming Rory

Author: Ashavan Doyon

Series Title and Number: College Rose Romances 4

Publisher:  Torquere Press

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Release Date:  6/8/16

Heat Level: 3

Pairing: M/M

Length: 75K

Genre/Tags:  New Adult, Contemporary, M/M Romance

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Synopsis

Rory Graeble returns to college determined to reinvent himself. Too many years have been wasted with masks, but becoming a student leader is a step Rory isn’t sure he’s ready for. A new identity takes more than just a new nickname, and Rory knows he has to take the chances that his old self would never risk. When that chance is a party that ends with an anonymous hot skater’s tongue down his throat and a phone number in his pocket, Rory knows what he has to do.

Danny Smits never expected to see stuffy lit geek Rory Graeble trying to be out, trying to be proud, trying to be… Rory. It’s damned sexy, and too much for the entrepreneurial skater to resist. When Rory calls him back the day after the party, Danny knows Rory has changed. But will Danny’s haunted past deter Rory? Or will Rory embrace the chance to experience everything the closet had stolen away? Danny believes in keeping things real, in a brutal honesty he knows means Rory will run screaming.

But this time Rory isn’t running.

Excerpt

It was quiet. Rory knew that wasn’t normal. He gazed out the windows. The angle of the building meant that one side was faced toward the campus, a miniature city full of towering buildings scattered in clumps, the other faced the mountains and woods. Two contrary images. It appealed to his poetic soul. That was a part of Lawrence he had no intention of letting go. It spoke to his core, that love of words.

Rory opened a window against the heat. Wentworth was an older building, and Rory half expected in winter that he’d have to keep the window open just to breathe. For now though, with no air-conditioning and a fan that did nothing except when pointed at bare skin, an open window was a welcome reprieve from the late August heat. There wasn’t enough of what he wanted Rory to be, not yet, for him to be comfortable with naked skin—at least not his naked skin.

His dorm room was taking shape. The books were on the bookshelf, two deep. An index card on the end of each shelf cataloged the books on the back row. They were books he wouldn’t want often, but when he wanted them, they’d be easy enough to find. Each shelf had a theme. On each shelf his favorites were in alpha order in front, and those he’d brought only out of fear his dad wouldn’t… Rory closed his eyes and took a long breath. There were reasons for his rebirth as Rory, and not all of them were here at school.

The boxes for the books were broken down and in the back of the closet. His clothes were hung up or carefully folded and in drawers. They spoke of Lawrence, not Rory, but they were what he had. It would be easy to fall back into wearing these. He’d have to for a little while. Clothes cost money, and for the first time in his life, Rory was not confident a call home would yield any more, not even for clothes. Especially not for clothes. What’s wrong with the clothes you’ve got? It’s what his dad would say. Probably his mom too.

With three beanbag chairs, the chair for his desk and the bed, that meant seating for five, at least. Anything over ten was considered a party. Not that he had any real hope of filling even the five spaces he had. Rory chuckled at himself. He could hope, but it wouldn’t happen. Still, he might get Stacy and Barry to join him. He walked up against the window, pinned between the steady whir of the fan and the tiny breeze from the window. It was comfortable. Well, not yet. Not really. But it would get more so over the course of the semester. He had to believe that.

On the desk next to his laptop, too hard to ignore from where he stood at the window, was his student leadership packet. The college had found some money somewhere. The portfolio wasn’t the cheap paper folder he’d expected. The mock-leather portfolio marked with the school seal—embossed on the cover, not just ink—had come with a lapel pin and a school pen. Okay, so the pads of paper inside were cheap, but that the school had done that for all the student leaders who arrived early? The communications major in him couldn’t help but analyze it for the message, and it wasn’t hard for him to guess. Take this seriously; they want us to take it seriously.

Rory wondered if they knew that the fledgling leaders were coming back in an hour as the sun finished its descent with the makings of a party. He wondered if Barry knew. Bronzed. Fit. Popular. Of course Barry knew. Rory glanced at the door he’d left open. He tried to pretend it was for something as mundane as airflow, but in his heart where the dull ache of the afternoon’s discussion still sat like a leaden brick, he knew better.

“This is where you do something stupid, Lawrence,” he whispered to himself. He knew what he wanted to do. Want is a strong term. Maybe it’s just the only way you know how to deal with it. And your name is Rory, dipshit. Lawrence is dead.

He looked again at the pile of leadership materials. How had Aidan talked him into this again? Oh, right. There was no one else. Aidan and Michael, they were gone. John Simmons was gone. All they had was a scattered and broken community.

Rory looked out at the slowly illuminating lights in the buildings across campus. It wasn’t like it would be when classes started. Right now it was just dots of light here and there. Athletes. Student government. Student organization leaders. It was getting dark. The party would start soon. As a leader, he’d been invited, quietly, with everyone else. Would the athletes be there to make him feel inadequate? Rory let out a breath, slow. Lawrence would never have gone. Maybe that meant Rory needed to.

He sat down at the desk and quickly flipped through the packet. Even on a cursory glance it was clear that the real requirement was to be present for the workshops throughout the week. The administration had scrupulously left the evenings to the students. It was a kindness, he noted, they had not extended to the residence life staff. He’d seen Becky and Barry earlier, making door tags for each of the residents. It would take them hours to do, and he’d wondered at the time why they’d started so early. But if Barry knew about the party… Rory sighed. Why did it matter if Barry was there? He wasn’t interested.

He’s comfortable. I’ll know someone. It’ll be bearable.

Rory closed the portfolio and pushed it away. His thoughts turned to how he could almost see skin under that too thin shirt of Barry’s. Also pretty uncomfortable.

He stood up and walked over to his closet. They were nice clothes, but they all fit into a particular mode. He pushed the hangers aside one by one. White shirt. Blue shirt. Pastel shirt. All of them button fronts. Then cardigans. One after another. Trousers and corduroys. Tweed jackets. Two business suits his parents had bought him for interviews. At least one of them was sleeker and more modern.

“They’re all Lawrence. All of them,” he muttered. He rested his forehead in one hand, massaging his scalp with his fingers to try to stall the oncoming headache. His eyes opened wide. “Maybe…”

He went back to the desk, trying to stay calm, and pulled out his laptop. Two quick searches and he’d found it: what good-looking fashion models could do with a cardigan. It wasn’t Lawrence at all. That was good. But could Rory pull it off? He was no top model.

He looked back at his closet. “Better than locking myself into being Lawrence again all year.” He combed his fingers back through his hair and closed his eyes again. “I can do this. I can choose to be Rory.”

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Torquere Press

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Meet the Author

Ashavan Doyon spends his days working with students as part of the student affairs staff at a liberal arts college. During lunch, evenings, and when he can escape the grasp of his husband on weekends, he writes, pounding out words day after day in hopes that his ancient typewriter-trained fingers won’t break the glass on his tablet computer. Ashavan is an avid science fiction and fantasy fan and prefers to write while listening to music that fits the mood of his current story. He has no children, having opted instead for the companionship of two beautiful and thoroughly spoiled pugs. A Texan by birth, he currently lives in New England, and frequently complains of the weather.

Ashavan went to school at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, getting his degree in Russian and East European Studies, with a focus in language and literature. He has two incomplete manuscripts from college that he goes back compulsively to fiddle with every so often, but is still not happy with either of them. He still loves fantasy and science fiction and reads constantly in the moments between writing stories.

Ashavan loves to hear from readers and can be reached at ashavandoyon@gmail.com.

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Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy of Becoming Rory

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Get A Bundle of Love with the ‘Love Off the Radar Collection’ by A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly (excerpt and giveaway)

 

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Title:  Love Off the Radar Collection

Author: A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly

Publisher:  Torquere Press

Cover Artist:

Release Date:  6/8/16

Heat Level: 5

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 119K

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Synopsis

Love off the Radar features fourteen tantalizing, otherworldly tales of love, romance, passion, and mystery, by the best-selling team of A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly. In Chaos, a fallen god looks for love at a truck stop. A young man hovers between love and death in Hardsex. Before Morning is an erotic, romantic, volcanic vampire tale set in Feudal Japan – with a serious twist. Mojo Rising is a scandalous tale of same-sex love set in the South Seas.

D.J. Manly addresses BDSM in Disciplining Baron, and the two authors join forces for the paranormal title story Love off the Radar. Which will kill Mo Dingley first? Love, or a curse? Speaking of curses, Have you ever read the personal journals of a werewolf, or a vampire? Now’s your chance! We’ve also got two very different love stories set in the time of Atlantis, and the sad but sweet Clean Monday, a coming-out story with a surprising hero. There are sexy, spicy tales involving zombies, where boys meet boys and almost…eat them. We have it all because love is love, and can’t always be wrapped up in a neat little bow.

Excerpt

From the title story Love off the Radar:

Mo should have suspected the universe was about to hose him when he arrived at the office and found the receptionist sniveling over her laptop. He’d assumed she was having some personal crisis. He felt a little guilty now that he’d uttered a brusque “Good morning” and had walked right by her.

When Jonathan Sampson personally buzzed Mo and invited him into the conference room for coffee, he’d assumed—again, stupidly—that he was about to be given a raise. He’d played the imaginary conversation in his mind as he quickly combed his thick, sandy-colored hair, straightened his bolo tie, and had run his fingertips over his unruly eyebrows.

He’d walked in, full of smiles, hoping to be commended for the brilliant job he’d done designing and overseeing a synagogue completely built out of recycled materials and powered by solar energy. It had appeared on the evening news, and Architectural Digest was featuring it next month.

Mo suspected that the big-bucks job hadn’t impressed Buckley and Sampson because the synagogue was a GLBT one. And gay didn’t go down too well in the company, even though their lone gay architect had, in three short months, brought them almost four million dollars in revenue.

No. What he got was a year in fingle-fangled Japan. It beat his last job where he’d spent a year in Kentucky designing the same ergonomic office spaces over and over again.

Mo stared into his still full cup of coffee, prepared for him by the sniveling receptionist. He wondered if she’d wept into his cup.

“Well?” Sampson asked.

“May I think it over tonight?”

Mr. Sampson looked disappointed. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. You’ll need to leave by Monday.”

Mo swallowed. Hard. “What about the accounts I’m working on?”

Mr. Sampson couldn’t look at him. “We’re going to hand them over to some of our junior executives.”

“But those are my accounts. My relationships brought in those deals.” Asshole. I just figured it out. They used me to get the contracts, now their straight account executives are going to complete the projects. They’ll never do the job I could do.

He left the office for the meeting he’d scheduled with the rabbi. He adjusted his black Stetson on his head, straightened his bolo tie and used a bristle brush to clean his black suit. Not that he needed it.

It was always good to make sure though. Sometimes when he morphed back into human form, he forgot himself and wolf hairs stuck to him.

Damned curse.

He stared down at his black cowboy boots. He’d come to California with three pair and these were his favorite, lucky boots. Well, they weren’t so lucky this morning.

Mo drove to West Hollywood in a daze, trying to imagine not being here anymore. He was surprised when he hit the turnoff on the ten for La Cienega Boulevard and headed south. On Pico, he found street parking and almost didn’t pay for the meter. Just out of spite. But it would be just his luck if a parking ticket haunted him across the Pacific.

He slid his credit card into the meter, paid for two hours, not that he thought he’d need it, then stood back to survey his golden beauty. From the outside, the synagogue looked very utilitarian. Inside, it was cozy, temperate, and gorgeous. As he strode into the building, he admired once again the carpet that had been fashioned by his ex-lover, Andrew, out of recycled jeans.

Each and every item used in the construction of the Temple Ruth Center had been a labor of love for Mo, and the artisans he’d brought in to help him with the project. Though not Jewish, he admired the rabbi, Beth Cohen, and the synagogue’s motto of ikkun olan (repair the world).

He believed in beautiful spaces. He believed in being responsible and being accountable. Even as he shook the rabbi’s hand and greeted the reporter from Architectural Digest, he knew his time in LA was short. He could sniff it out, like a coming Santa Ana wind and knew.

Mo Dingley was going to Japan.

He slept badly, falling into a restless snooze on the sofa whilst watching a design program on HGTV. He awoke to canned laughter and raised his head from the cushions tucked under his arm. Somehow he’d rolled over onto the remote and he’d hit an obscure cable station. An old episode of Seinfeld was playing. He’d never seen this one before, but in it, Kramer was renting out drawers in his bedroom bureau to stranded Japanese tourists. He watched as Kramer tucked them into their makeshift beds, wishing them a good night’s sleep.

I can’t sleep in a drawer! Are beds really that small there?

He hit the Internet and checked the address that Sampson had written down for him. He was astonished at how wonderful it seemed. The apartment, located in the neighborhood of Akasaka (Red Hill in English) in the Minato-ku district, was right near his new office, and two blocks from the American Embassy. According to the blogs he read, foreigners gravitated toward this area because of its international supermarkets. Almost everybody spoke English. During the day, it was a hard-working business area. At night, its restaurant and clubs ensured a busy evening, as well. Weekends, according to his research were much quieter, because the working men went to their own neighborhoods.

The ancient streets featured some geisha houses, which tickled him. He wondered if there were gay ones. How far was it from the gay district? And what was it called, anyway? He checked. Shinjuku Ni-ch?me. Popularly known as Nich?. Now that looked really cool. Saunas, coffee shops, bars. Beautiful men.

As long as he could escape into solitude each full moon, he’d be fine.

I think I could live there. He studied the apartment building. The Akasaka Tower building was so tall it made him dizzy looking at him.

This ain’t no mustang ranch, sport. He took a deep breath. He was able to view an apartment via virtual tour. It looked very modern and clean, with granite countertops in the kitchen and surprisingly huge windows overlooking the city.  The bedroom looked  big enough. It sure beat the heck out of being unemployed.

He eyed the time on his VCR/DVD player. Ten fifteen P.M.

On the TV, as Jerry and Elaine acted shocked about Kramer renting the Japanese tourists his bedroom drawers, Kramer defended himself by saying, “Have you ever seen the business hotels in Tokyo? They sleep in tiny stacked cubicles all the time! They feel right at home!”

He sighed at the racist overtones to the plotline. Maybe this was his opportunity to offer his input into ikkun olan. Maybe he could help in some way make a contribution to repairing the world.

Mo picked up the phone and called Jonathan Sampson. He wasn’t surprised when the man answered.

“I’m in,” was all Mo said. And then he started to pack.

Purchase

Torquere Press

Euphoria SquareMeet the Author

 

A.J. Llewellyn

A.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels.

A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.

D.J. Manly

I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not writing, I’m dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.

 

Social Media Links:

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Giveaway

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Will & Patrick Are Back in Will & Patrick Do the Holidays by Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths (contest)

  Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00075]

Will & Patrick Do the Holidays (Wake Up Married, Episode 3)
Author: Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths
Publisher:  Leta Blake Books

Release Date: November 23, 2015

Book/Buy Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK

Book Blurb

Follow Will & Patrick as they do the holidays in this third installment of the romantic-comedy serial, Wake Up Married, by best-selling author Leta Blake and newcomer Alice Griffiths!

A couple’s first holiday season is always a special time. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve are magical when you’re in love. Too bad Will and Patrick’s marriage is a sham and they’re only faking their affection for each other. Or are they?

Sparks fly in this episode of the Wake Up Married serial. Will the sexual tension between Will and Patrick finally explode in a needy night of passion? Or will they continue to deny their feelings?

Episode 3 of 6 in the Wake Up Married serial.
Length: 117 Pages
Pairing: M/M, Heat Level: 5!!!! Super hot!!

Excerpt

“Ah, the acrid smell of insulin in the morning.” Patrick’s voice is still gravelly from sleep as he turns on the shower and pulls down his black boxer-briefs revealing his tight ass.

Will looks quickly away and back to the syringe he’s filling by the bathroom sink. “I can never get the last dose to eject from the insulin pens. I always have to pull it out with a needle.”

“After living with you, I have an entire list of ways they can improve insulin pen injectors.”

“I should have my lawyer queue up an appointment for you with the pharmaceutical company.”

“You do that, puddin’-pop, and I’ll be there with a PowerPoint presentation. It’ll consist of four words over and over. ‘Do your damn job.’ If pushed, I might throw in a ‘Don’t make me do it for you’ as a closing argument.”

Will pinches a bit of fat from his abdomen and sticks himself quickly. He’s done this for years, but he never stops hating it. Especially syringes. They’re somehow worse than the insulin pens. “I’ll ask Owen to make that happen.”

Patrick snorts from behind the curtain. Will glances over and heat floods his gut as he notices the shadow outline of Patrick’s morning wood. “Oh, um, let me just—” He hustles to deal with the used needle and ends up dropping the syringe in the sink. The scent of insulin grows stronger. “Why does it smell like Band-Aids?” Will muses as he finally gets rid of the used needle and cleans up the syringe, tossing the now-empty insulin pen.

“It’s the preservative. Meta-cresol,” Patrick says. “Mmm, so clinical. So sexy.”

“And you’re so weird.”

“Nothing like the smell of a hospital to get my motor running.”

Will glances back at Patrick’s shadow behind the shower curtain. He’s still got a half chub flopping around as he washes his hair. Will clears his throat.

“Have you considered an insulin pump?” Patrick asks.

Will tries to drag his mind from Patrick’s erection. “I don’t want one.”

“Because?”

“I don’t like the idea of having something attached to me. All the time. Something I have to rely on to do its job.”

“You trust insulin pens have the right dosage, that the dial works, that they’re—“

“I know, Patrick. But I have the right to my own preferences when it comes to my medical treatment.”

“Fair enough. So what’s the deal with your daddy?” Patrick asks sans segue.

“What are you talking about?” Will packs up his testing kit and uses a black marker he keeps in his murse to make a dot on the back of his left hand. He can’t forget to drop by the pharmacy and pick up his replacement insulin pens.

“Papa Molinaro. What’s the deal with him and the holidays? He wasn’t around for Thanksgiving. Will he be dropping down the chimney on Christmas Eve with a bag full of presents for you and a nice hard dick for your mommy? Or what?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Thanks for that image.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He spends Christmas with his daughters. Or at least he used to. I don’t keep in touch with him.”

“Ah, the half siblings you’ve never met. So, no Christmas phone call from Papa?”

“No.” Will feels the familiar hot, impatient squirm of nastiness in his gut. Conversations about his father usually bring it on.

“No Christmas card stuffed with cash?”

“No card, no text, no Skype, no email.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“He’s obsessed enough with you to have you followed by mobster spies but he can’t pick up a phone. At best, that’s inefficient.”

“At worst?”

“At worst, Starshine, you have a deeply dysfunctional father/son relationship.”

“Wow. You really are a genius.”

Patrick barks a laugh and then begins to hum the new Madonna song he’s been singing off and on for the last two days.

“That’s still stuck in your head, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Better than ‘We Three Kings’ mixed with ‘Scarborough Fair,’” Will mutters. Finished with his morning insulin rituals, he starts the water in the sink to begin his shaving routine. “Tony doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and being a reliable member of our family was never something he was good at.”

“When did you last see him?”

“It’s been three years. It can be ten more for all I care.” Will pumps shaving cream into his hand and smears it on his face. “He sweeps in on a whim, wreaks havoc on our lives, and sweeps out again.”

Patrick is quiet behind the curtain and Will glances over to see that he’s rinsing out his hair.

“There’s no pattern, unless you count my mom getting serious with anyone. As soon as my dad gets wind of her being happy with someone else, he has to come to town and wreck it.”

“With his dick.”

Will sighs. “Everything’s about sex for you, isn’t it?”

“Nope. A lot of things. But not everything.” He turns off the water and throws back the curtain. Will averts his eyes quickly, but his hands are already shaking enough that he’s not sure he should be trusted to shave himself. Patrick goes on. “But it’s all about sex between your parents. The Hurting Times churns with scintillating tales of your mom inappropriately hopping on your dad’s pole.”

“Like you know anything about ‘inappropriate’.”

Patrick laughs. “Like I know about that time they banged in the bathroom at some old lady’s funeral. The Hurting Times forum had pages dedicated to that one.”

Will’s ears grow hot.

“And, hey, for the record, even I know a funeral home toilet is a bad place for sex. Public bathrooms are tourist destinations for germs.” He shudders and slings a towel around his hips, thankfully covering his dangling dick. “It’s not sanitary.”

“You are such a jerk.”

“So you tell me.” Patrick grabs a hairbrush and runs it through his wet hair. The dark auburn looks almost brown and glistens brightly in the overhead bathroom lights. “There’s evidence of a genetic component to addiction.” Patrick’s eyes go foggy as he muses, “But is it addiction or abuse? Both probably.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, mainly. But I’m also talking about them. If The Hurting Times gossip about the two of them is even half true, they are their own kind of addicts. Addicted to each other. Addicted to sex. Addicted to falling in love. Especially your mother. But it’s possible your father uses the intense sexual connection between them as abuse.”

“I…” Will’s fingers clutch at the razor and he drags it against his skin carefully. “I didn’t think you believed in psychology mumbo-jumbo.”

“I don’t believe in spiritual mumbo-jumbo. And, yes, psychology is a lot of bull-honky, but as a neurologist, I can’t deny that thoughts and experiences have physical effects on brain tissue. Dubious and whoo-hoo as most psychological theories seem compared with hard science. What’s your dad’s sign?”

“Really?”

Patrick shrugs and sidles up next to Will at the sink, examining his own face in the mirror.

Will sighs. “Early November. So, what’s that? Scorpio?”

“Ah. And your mother’s a Scorpio too.”

“How do you know? The Hurting Times again?”

“I know because I’ve met her.”

Patrick’s arm slides against his as he reaches for the can of shaving cream. Will moves slightly to the side but Patrick just scoots closer. Will can smell soap on his skin and shampoo in his hair. He wonders what those curls would feel like slick and wet under his fingers.

Patrick rubs on shaving cream and reaches for his razor. His naked chest slides against Will’s bicep.

Will tries to concentrate on shaving, but Patrick’s reflection in the mirror is distracting. His normally pale skin is flushed from the shower and his nipples are pink and peaked. Will clears his throat and scrapes his razor over his face again.

“Addiction,” Patrick muses on. “You didn’t stumble into that on your own. You drink…and your parents screw. That’s how these genes play out. And with both of them being Scorpios…”

Patrick’s arm rubs against him, and Will clicks his tongue against his teeth. Between this touching and Patrick’s speculation about his parents’ sex life, Will can’t tell if he’s going to pop an inconvenient boner or if his balls are going to shrivel up into his body.

“Two Scorpios can burn down a barn from the heat of their mutual orgasms.”

Ball-shriveling wins out. “Okay, well, this conversation has covered everything I never wanted to think about. I’m going to be late to work.”

Patrick studies Will in the mirror.

Will wipes his face clean of cream, decides not to care that he’s got one stripe of shiny skin on an otherwise stubbly face, and, grabbing his murse, leaves the sink to Patrick.

He dresses quickly. He really is going to be late. Not that anyone at Good Works would say anything to him.

“Do you have surgery scheduled?” Will calls out as he slides his wallet into his back pocket and hitches his bag on his shoulder.

“No.”

“Meet you here tonight?”

“Will there be more Capheus?”

“Yes. And more Lito.”

“It’s a TV date with the hubby, then,” Patrick says, stepping out into the room with his sharp grin in place.

The hubby.

“First person home calls room service,” Patrick adds. “Order stuff we both like. We can share.”

“Deal.”

“Oh, and Will? For the record, you’d still be hot even if you wore an insulin pump.”

“Thanks. But I’ll stick with the pens.”

Walking out of the pharmacy twenty minutes later with his new insulin pens, Will wonders what kind of sex Libras and Aries are supposed to have. You already know the answer to that. Hot enough to burn down a barn.

“God, just stop.”

He rubs a hand over his hair and decides to focus on the day ahead. He’ll take it one step at a time. Just like AA has taught him.

Genre:  Romantic Comedy M/M Romance
Tags:  gay, woke up married, tropes, rom-com, mafia, forced marriage, disabled heroes

Wake Up Married series:

Leta Blake

About the Authors

Leta Blake

Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.

You can find out more about her by following her online:

Alice Griffiths

A long-time reader of romance novels, Alice Griffiths finally took the plunge into writing, teaming up with best-selling author Leta Blake for the ‘Woke up Married’ serialized comedy. A lover of tropes, Alice enjoys mining old ideas and putting a fresh, funny spin on them. Formerly working in the newspaper industry, Alice is now an art curator. She lives in Sydney, Australia.

You can find out more about her by following her online:

Giveaway

Enter to win 2 copies of Will & Patrick Do the Holidays (Wake Up Married, Episode 3).  Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Link and prizes provided by the authors. and Indigo Marketing.

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Take a Early Morning Quickie with The Other Half Of Me by Lor Rose (excerpt and giveaway)

The Other Half Of Me Cover

The Other Half Of Me by Lor Rose

Author: Lor Rose
Title: The Other Half Of Me
Series Title and Number: Patryk’s Branch Book One
Publisher: Thirteen Below Press
Release Date: September 15, 2015

Purchase Links: eBook: Thirteen Below Press | Print: Thirteen Below Press

The Other Half Of Me Banner

Book Blurb

As a homicide detective for the greater Houston area, Detective Barrack Invar’s job was stressful enough without his Lieutenant breathing down his neck to do more, not to mention his girlfriend, Isabella. His partner, Calhoun, was a joke. It didn’t help that over the years Barrack earned a reputation as being a bit of an asshole at work. Things for Barrack didn’t look any brighter in the wake of a murder case with absolutely no leads at all. Until he came home to a wonderful surprise. His best friend since the age of three had finally come home. 

Willow only survived. His best friend since childhood, Barrack, was all that mattered to him. Willow craved any small scraps of affection Barrack was willing to give. Every look, every praise, every touch, tore Willow’s soul because he was constantly reminded of what he couldn’t have. Barrack. When Willow unexpectedly returned home his insides burned with the need for the man he loved. The need to give control…

Barrack found his feelings towards Willow slowly twisted and changed. He loved his best friend. A man. For Barrack it was a very simple thing. Willow on the other hand could not accept what Barrack was freely willing to give. Willow did the only thing he knew. He ran. 

Returning home, Willow’s fears were confirmed when Barrack refused to come with him. Barrack’s promises to follow seemed long in coming. Willow was left devastated feeling abandoned and alone.

Can Barrack convince Willow of his love? Will Willow allow Barrack to love him?

The Other Half Of Me Cover
Excerpt

The energy of the crowd and passion from the band was infectious. Barrack stood as close to the stage as he could. His body ached and his eyes itched with need for sleep after a long day at work then the concert, but it was worth it. Seeing him made it worth it.
He headed for the VIP line forming next to where NRG Stadium kept their performance stage when not in use. Other bodies ran into him, one group nearly running him over with their purple VIP passes swinging from their necks. Barrack shook his head. Purple badges like theirs only allowed them into VIP after-show signings, nothing special. Black was the next level up, with after-show backstage access and a gift signed from all the band members for Christmas. White, like his, allowed backstage access before and after shows, as well as the yearly gifts at Christmas and the holder’s birthday, plus special one-on-one time with the band at a scheduled party near Halloween.
The organizers broke up the white badges into groups of seven per party to allow more one-on-one time. Hence, only twenty-one people had a white VIP badge. If a white badge didn’t come to a white party more than twice in a row, they automatically lost their white VIP status since other people would use it to its full advantage, like him.
“Hey Barrack!”
He turned to see Bridge, the band’s head of security, waving him over, then shouldered his way through the crowd, slowly making his way to the front of the line.
“Annoying, isn’t it?” Bridge’s voice had a slight rasp to it. He was a tall broad man with a stern-looking face and jaw. His hair looked swept back by the wind.
The two clasped hands and Bridge pulled him into a one-armed hug, each patting the other heavily on the back. “If I had to deal with this all the time, then shit yeah. Doesn’t it get annoying?” Barrack asked and gave Bridge one more hearty pat on the arm before releasing him.
Bridge shrugged. “Not really, no. How you’ve been?”
Barrack smiled at his old friend. They had gotten close once a long time ago when they’d been undercover. When everything was all said and done with that case, the men had lost contact, only to be reacquainted a few years later when Emotio hit the scene.
He shrugged. “Same old, same old.”
Bridge shook his head. “Come on.” He opened the door to allow them inside. Barrack stepped into a much quieter but still busy space. Stage personnel hustled about doing whatever it was that they did. One was carrying a large stuffed rhinoceros—he didn’t want to know.
“Barrack.” Rex Louis Clark, the drummer waved and Barrack waved back. The man stood shirtless with raven black hair that shined blue in the light. A white stripe accented the side of his head. The tabloids had nicknamed him ‘Skunk’, and for good reason. He’d been known to have a bad temper. He was talking to Luxe, the band’s stylist. Why, he didn’t know since the man seemed to be allergic to shirts.
“Everyone else is in back,” Bridge said. “The public signing will start in half an hour.” Bridge patted him on the back and walked off, leading the way.
“That’s it?” Half an hour seemed like a short break after such a performance.
Bridge shrugged. “Aksel and Patryk wanted to be done early.”
“Wonder why,” he mused aloud while they turned a corner.
Bridge sighed, but it sounded more like a disbelieving tsk. He opened another door and walked inside with Barrack following behind.
“You know you’re the only fan we actually like enough to hang out with,” Bishop, the lead guitarist, said from the wet bar. His silk black pirate shirt caught the light, highlighting his exposed chest. His shoulder-length bleached hair sported pink highlights at the tips, which faded up the length.
“That one isn’t so bad,” Aksel, the bass player, said as he plopped on the couch. His purple Mohawk didn’t even move.
Titus, the piano or keyboard player, threw wadded paper at Aksel, which he caught. “Do ya mean Greg?” Titus’s slight Irish accent came through. His all white hair almost glowed in the fluorescent lighting.
“I hate him,” Bishop said as he took a long drink.
“That’s because—” Patryk Sama’el, the lead singer, walked in from another door on the opposite side of the room. “—he drinks just as much alcohol as you.” His hair was black, the sides of his head shaved into a military buzz, and the center was long, thick, and styled effortlessly to the side. A chunk of white highlighted his bangs. Diamond stud earrings decorated his ears. He had changed from his earlier outfit into skinny jeans and a loose rock and roll T-shirt. “And even we cannot afford that.” His comment won a round of chuckles and the finger from Bishop.
The singer shook his head and plopped on the couch next to Aksel. Heavy black makeup framed his eyes, as did an elegant gray and black masquerade mask. This air of secrecy heightened Emotio’s fame. No one had seen Patryk’s face, not even Emotio’s other members. Rumors soared over Patryk’s looks, but the man in the center of it all, Patryk, neither confirmed nor denied anything. Patryk Sama’el symbolized mystery, and mysteries were intriguing.
“Hey Barrack,” Patryk said with a tiny wave, looking relaxed but tired.
“Hey, guys.” Barrack entered the room while Bridge said his goodbyes. “You want a water?” Barrack asked Patryk who nodded. Barrack had to practically shove Bishop out of the way to get to the wet bar.
He retrieved two waters, then handed one to Patryk while he sat between Aksel and Patryk. “Where’s Dominik?” Another scan of the room confirmed the electric violinist wasn’t there.
Titus tossed him the wad of paper, and he tossed it back. “Good question.”
“Bathroom,” Patryk supplied with a sigh.
Barrack looked him over. Patryk seemed to have melted farther into the couch since he sat down, “Okay?”
Patryk nodded. “Just tired.”
“If I danced like you in them damn high heels, I’d be tired too.” Bishop twirled and went back to the bar for another drink.
Before anyone could answer, Dominik walked in from the same door Patryk had. He stopped short when he saw Barrack. “Hey.” On stage, Dominik was a force worthy of the band’s fame, but in that moment, he seemed tiny and timid, as if he were two different people.
His emerald-green hair had white accents. Dominik’s style was the most formal. A well-tailored suit showed off his form. The jacket was opened, exposing a white button-up shirt and loosened black silk necktie.
“You okay?” Barrack asked while getting up. “Here, sit. You look tired.”
Dominik smiled, but it seemed sad to Barrack. “I’m fine.”
“Please, sit.” He motioned to the spot he’d given up. Dominik meekly nodded and slowly made his way to the sofa. To Barrack, he seemed to move a little too gingerly. “Thanks,” Dominik said as he passed. Barrack’s gaze zeroed in on him pressing his arm to his side. A small bruise visible on Dominik’s knuckles made Barrack frown.
“Son of a bitch.” Rex burst into the room and chucked something against the wall, but Barrack didn’t see what it was. Barrack was too focused on Dominik’s barely there flinch and subsequent wince.
He covered it up well. “Lose a bet?” Dominik’s response was more subdued than usual as he sat.
Rex growled as he strode across the room to the other door. “Shut up,” he snapped. “I’m taking a shower.” The poor door almost groaned under Rex’s grip as he wrenched it open, and the reverberating slam when he left sent a crack throughout the room.
“Well he’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Bishop listed to the side with a giggle.
Patryk sighed, but Barrack could tell he was watching Dominik, too. “Stop drinking. We still have the signing to do.”
Bishop flipped him off again. “You gonna stop me?”
“And mess up this manicure?” Patryk waved black fingernails at him. “I don’t think so. Barrack can subdue your drunk ass.”
Bishop looked at him with bleary eyes. He must’ve been drinking on stage. “Wouldn’t mind ‘hat at all.”
“Barrack is off limits. He’s got that Willow fellow,” Titus said while still tossing the wad of paper around.
Barrack shook his head. “We’re not together.”
Patryk chuckled. “The way you talk about him sure makes it seem you are.”
Barrack moved and sat on the arm of the couch closest to Patryk. “Well, he does have a nice ass.”
Bishop spit out his drink. “You’re gay!”
“No.” Barrack took Patryk’s water and opened it, then gave it back. “Drink that,” he said under his breath, then turned his attention back to Bishop. “But I can appreciate a nice ass when I see one.”
“We have got to meet this Willow,” Titus said. “He’s all ya talk about.”
Barrack shrugged. “He’s busy.”
Aksel heaved himself up. “The fucker is always busy,” he said while retrieving his own water.
“Be nice,” Patryk said.
Aksel made a jacking off motion. “Suck me.”
Barrack laughed, but Patryk punched his thigh. “What?” He asked then took a drink of water.
“Don’t encourage him,” Patryk quipped, then took a swig of water.
A knock on the door stole everyone’s attention. Bridge stuck his head in. “Signing starts in 5. Where’s Skunk?”
Bishop giggled. “Ima tell you said ‘hat.”
“That’s great, where is he?”
Barrack nodded to the other door. “Showering, should be about done.”
Bridge walked into the room and to the other door. “You guys get out there and I’ll get him.”
“Better you than me,” Patryk said as he got up.
The rest of the band followed with their own brand of sarcasm except for Dominik. He sat on the sofa and looked a little pale. “You okay?” Barrack asked again.
“Yeah. Help me up.” Dominik offered his hand, and Barrack pulled him up. The man seemed too light even for his smaller physique.
Barrack watched Dominik walk. He had a slight hitch to his step. “If you ever need anything, I can help you.”
Dominik stopped and turned. The gaze that met Barrack’s could only be described as broken. “You’re a really good friend.” With that, Dominik strode off with Barrack following. They arrived at the signing and Dominik took his place between Aksel and Rex.
Bridge came up behind him. “Everything all right?”
He stepped back so he and Bridge were behind the band but out of earshot. “You know what I think.”
“Yeah” was all Bridge said, and the two lapsed into silence.

Genre: Contemporary
Tags: friends to lovers, gay for you, rock star, secret, detective
Heat Level: 4
Pairing: MM
Length: 50,434

About the Author

Lor is a snarky, over the top genderfluid polyamorous demipansexual with dark hair and pink highlights. Although, sometimes the color varies. She is almost constantly fighting with her muse, Animus, or referring the fights Lor Rosebetween Animus and Epicene, her other muse. Lor started reading very questionable M/M fanfiction at a very young age in the closet. Literally. Though that didn’t stop her from getting caught once or twice. This early love of things M/M sparked her writing career. Without a doubt, her Christian high school English teacher Mrs. B didn’t expect Lor to fall into the M/M genre. Mrs. B did know Lor would be a writer someday because when the class had a minimum, Lor had a maximum. It truly was unfair.
Besides writing, Lor may also be found with one of her two horses, the Chihuahua or her cat. Any un-caught typos are courtesy of the cat, who shoves Lor’s things out of the way when it’s her time for cuddles or playtime… Which is about every ten minutes.
Author Links
Facebook | Website | Twitter

Giveaway

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What Happens In Vegas Charity Blog Hop and M/M Short Story: ‘Waking Up Married in Vegas’ by Hunter Frost

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Welcome to the What Happens in Vegas Charity Blog Hop!

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to be a participant in this charity event and is hosting author Hunter Frost.  Welcome, Hunter.  Please tell us more about this event and your charity!

From Hunter Frost:

The Marriage Equality Blog Hop revolves around a bunch of authors, bloggers, and reviewers who want to celebrate the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to affirm marriage equality for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Americans. By featuring stories of love and marriage between LGBTQ couples and promoting charitable organizations that focus on assisting and empowering the LGBTQ community, we hope share our joy in an important historical moment.
The charity I chose to promote is The Center in Las Vegas. The Center is a full-service community center that serves the city’s LGBTQ population by providing educational programs, free HIV and STD testing, vaccinations, internet and computer stations, a lending library, and other helpful resources.http://thecenterlv.org By donating to the The Center here: http://www.thecenterlv.org/get-involved/rainbow-circle/donations you help support these highly desirable programs to the LGBTQ community in Las Vegas.

Now for Hunter Frost’s short story. Enjoy!

Waking Up Married in Vegas

By

Hunter Frost

Officer Reed Weston ran his hands through his hair as he exited the elevator on the twenty-fourth floor of the Golden Nugget, keeping an eye out for Grant’s suite number. It had been six months since that first fateful night on Freemont Street when they had met, and Reed still got butterflies before each rendezvous.

After their inaugural vacation together in Kauai, they decided to fly out to visit each other once a month, which soon turned into every other week, and finally every weekend. The traveling was tiring and expensive, but Reed couldn’t imagine any more time away from Grant. And he assumed Grant felt the same. Reed had never been this obsessed with a man before, but for some reason he welcomed the once terrifying concept.

He knocked on the proper door, wishing Grant wouldn’t spend the money on a room when they could just go back to his place. But Grant wanted to be as close as possible when Reed ended his graveyard shift. At least for one night of the weekend, he always said. And Reed couldn’t deny he appreciated Grant’s need to squeeze as much time out of their weekends as possible.

“You alone?” Grant called out from inside.

Reed raised his brow. Interesting. His ex had called him boring, but the man inside that room had been anything but since Reed had known him. “Um…yes?” Reed answered hesitantly.

Grant didn’t reply, but the sound of locks opening prepared Reed as the door swung wide.

And there stood Grant – completely naked with a massive hard-on.

“Fuck me,” Reed whispered at the beautiful sight. Sexy as all get out, Grant was even sexier in the buff. Lean and trim, he somehow avoided the spare tire that Reed found himself constantly fighting off. Maybe he should take up swimming, if it helped him look as fine as Grant did.

Reed wasted no time in striding forward to reach for him, as Grant jumped into his arms and wrapped his legs around his middle. Reed went in for a kiss when Grant yelped.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” Grant shifted in Reed’s arms and blew out a breath.

“What did you crush?” Reed chuckled. Next time, he’d remove his duty belt before lunging for a naked man…when not in the line of duty, of course.

“Nothing like that, just caught some skin on your gun holster.” He answered like it was something that happened every day.

“I’d be happy to kiss it better,” Reed murmured, as Grant tightened his arms around Reed’s neck. Reed had missed this – being able to hold him, smell him, and stare into his chocolate brown eyes. Grant’s bare ass in his hands didn’t hurt either.

Grant nibbled on his ear, making him shiver. “It’s really high up on my inner thigh,” he whispered.

If Reed wasn’t hard before, he was steel now. “Is that supposed to discourage me?”

Grant laughed, and Reed pulled him into a kiss that had both of them moaning. Before they got too carried away, Reed said against Grant’s lips. “I need a shower first. It’s been a long night.”

“No, I like the smell of danger and deviancy on you.”

“More like sweat and sorrow.” He could smell it. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“You’re kinda kinky.” Reed kissed him again with a growl in his throat and carried him over to the bed, reluctantly letting him drop. This is where he’d been dreaming of getting Grant since yesterday morning. He removed his duty belt and placed it on the stuffed chair beside the bed.

“Let me do the rest,” Grant said, as he untucked Reed’s yellow polo from his cargo pants. Grant rested back on his haunches as he pushed Reed’s shirt up. Reed pulled it off the rest of the way.

Damn, Grant’s hands drove him crazy as they traveled up Reed’s abs and spread across his chest. He circled Reed’s nipples – now as hard as his cock. “Jesus, if you don’t let my cock out, I might pop the zipper right off.”

“I’d like to see that,” he said, unfastening Reed’s pants with urgency and pushing them down with his boxers. “Next time.”

When Reed’s cock sprung free, both of them groaned. The tip was already dripping.

Grant used the pre-come to stroke him slowly and deliberately, making Reed’s eyes roll up in the back of his head. “God, that feels incredible.”

“And I know it’ll feel incredible in my ass,” Grant replied, reaching over to pick up a condom off the bed, where a handful of them had been scattered.

Reed arched a brow. “My you’ve become such a dirty, dirty boy. What happened to my boring accountant?” He smirked and unlaced his boots, removing them and the rest of his clothes.

Grant ripped the condom rapper open with his teeth, looking up at him with mischievous eyes. “It’s impossible to be boring around you. You encourage my wild side.” He grabbed Reed’s cock and stroked.

Reed bit his lower lip and slid his hand into Grant’s soft hair. “You bet I do. Any hot-blooded man would be a fool not to.” He kissed him hard and deep, needing to feel the crush of his addicting lips and the hot slick of his tongue.

Grant slid on the condom and massaged Reed’s balls, drawing out a guttural moan. Grant already knew so well how his body would respond to his intimate caresses.

Reed slid his hands down to Grant’s chest and broke the kiss as he pushed him down to the bed with a thump. Reed then slipped his hands under Grant’s ass, spreading his thighs with his face as he dove down to kiss and lick at his inner thigh, skirting Grant’s cock and balls. “Is that the spot that needed kissing?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” Grant grunted. “So much better. But there are plenty of other spots you can tend to…”

“How about this spot?” Reed asked, as he titled Grant’s ass forward, spreading his cheeks as he tickled the puckered hole with his tongue.

Grant gasped. “Oh, God, Reed…yes.”

Reed laved at his tender flesh, licking and nibbling, until Grant nearly writhed out from under him. Reed pushed his tongue in as far as he could manage, Grant’s panting and curses almost too much for Reed to take without spilling his own seed.

“Now, Reed. Please fuck me.”

Grant’s begging had Reed scrambling onto the bed, lining his cock up to that glorious hole. Considering the condoms were lubed and he had made a wet feast of Grant, he figured he could slide in fairly easily.

Grant groaned as Reed pressed his cock inside, so hot and snug. Reed gritted his teeth to hold back the orgasm that already had his balls tight and on edge.

“I could live in there,” Reed whispered.

Grant chuckled, his breath ragged, as he lifted his hips. “You could stay forever.”

Reed smiled back, matching Grant’s rhythm, wondering if they were still talking about sex. But his thoughts were cut short as he bit back his climax. “I’m gonna come, baby,” he managed to say, pumping faster into Grant, angling toward his prostate. He wouldn’t stop until Grant got off.

“Yes, yes…Do it,” Grant said, his face betraying his oncoming orgasm. “You know I’ll be right there with you.”

God, yes. As Reed thrust, his climax ripped through him, sending electric jolts through his entire body.

Grant grasped Reed’s hand tight, no different than the very first time they slept together. Reed realized he’d come to crave that intensity, that connection, which only Grant had been able to give him.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Grant yelled, as he shot all the way up to his neck. His body jerked under Reed, who stroked Grant’s leg with his free hand.

When they both finally relaxed, Reed moved to slip out of Grant. He kissed the hand that held his and got off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Grant asked, his eyes still closed. His legs were bent at the knees and spread wide, his expression spent and absolutely beautiful.

Reed shook his head to clear it. “Shower. Now, I really need one. And there’s no way I’m going to completely funk up the bed we’ll be sleeping in later.”

Grant chuckled. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#

Grant woke up with a start. Pressure on his shoulder and his name in a deep, hushed voice came from the dark mass next to him in the bed.

“Wake up, Grant,” Reed whispered, squeezing his arm.

Grant blinked his heavy eyelids, nerves suddenly on edge. “What? What is it? Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.”
“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Grant shifted to sit up and felt for Reed’s solid form, touching his body as if trying to find something out of place.

Reed sat up, grasping both of his hands in his. “No, it’s not that.”

Grant leaned back against the headboard, relief washing over him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Reed said, his thumbs brushing the top Grant’s hands.

The words slammed into Grant like a mack truck. Did he mean…them? Grant searched through the entire day in his head, wondering what had happened to provoke Reed’s change of heart. They had had a wonderful day as usual, ordering breakfast from room service after more sexy fun in the shower. Grant insisted Reed nap after that, considering he had met him right after his shift. Then they drove out to Red Rock and did a short hike since the fall weather finally made it bearable. Once they had dinner at Reed’s favorite local pub, they came home, fooled around and promptly fell asleep.

“What do you mean?” Grant asked, his voice higher than he expected.

“It means I love you and I can’t do this back and forth thing anymore. I must be losing it because I can’t even stand being away from you for five days.”

Grant’s mouth went slack. Boy, did he jump to the wrong conclusion.

But wait.

“Did you just say you loved me?” The silence following made Grant lean over and turn on the light so he could see Reed properly. “Did you hear me?”

Reed squinted. “Yes, I nodded ‘yes’.”

“In the dark.” Grant chuckled and Reed joined him.

“Sorry.”

Grant grabbed his face and kissed him quickly. “I love you, too.”

“Thank God,” Reed said, wrapping his arms around Grant’s waist. “But I’m sick of missing you. I want to be next to you, in the same city, the same house, waking up in the same bed.” He paused and visibly swallowed. His blue eyes darkened. “Marry me, Grant. I don’t care if it’s crazy. I’ve never felt this way about someone.”

Grant couldn’t get his eyes to work. Shock made them blink uncontrollably, while tears stung them from behind. “You’re serious?” He said, for lack of anything better. Of course he wanted to marry Reed. He was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Coming to Vegas to forget his ex may not have been the smartest thing he could have done, but it was by far the luckiest. To know that Reed felt the same about him made the tears fall.

“Are these happy tears?” Reed whispered, bringing his hands up to catch the watery trails with his thumbs.

“Of course they are, you big dummy,” Grant said, playfully punching him in his meaty chest.

“Is that a yes?” Reed asked, pulling him closer.

Grant nodded. “Yes, Officer.”

Reed groaned and then proceeded to kiss every ounce of life from his body, until he laid limp in his arms.

Grant didn’t know how he managed to speak after that. “Where will we live?”

“I don’t care. If you want me to move to Ohio, I’ll go. I could find work there. That’s the bonus of being a police officer.”

“What about your Mom and the Silva family and the rest of metro? They all need you.”

“You know my Mom loves you. And so does Silva, Allison, and the kids.” Reed smiled. “They’ll understand. Especially knowing how happy I am.”

Grant took a deep breath. He wouldn’t deny that he’d thought about moving in with Reed and even marriage, but he never expected it to happen so soon. Still, he knew what he wanted. “If you don’t care, then I’m moving here. I don’t think you’re done here in Vegas.”

“Really? Could you leave your parents and Lisa? Lisa won’t know what to do with herself.” Reed smirked.

“With the new baby coming, and my Mom so busy doting on her soon-to-be grandbaby, they won’t even notice I’m gone,” Grant grinned. “Besides, they can afford to miss me for a while. It’s about time I leave the nest.”

Reed chuckled. “You’re my brave little bird.”

Grant rolled his eyes and shoved him. “We could revisit the whole living situation every few years, just to make sure we’re happy with the arrangements.”

Reed wrapped an arm around Grant’s neck and kissed his forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Level-headed,” Grant corrected him.
“Then you’re going to freak out when you hear what I have to say next.”

Grant blinked. “What?”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Sex? Sure.” Grant trailed a finger down Reed’s chest. “You know I’m always game for that.”

“Not that.” Reed pressed Grant’s hand against his chest. “I meant, let’s get married right now.”

“Now?”

“This is Vegas. You can get married at all hours of the day or night and same-sex marriage is now legal in Nevada.” Reed’s blue eyes grew brighter as he talked. “Elvis could marry us, or…we could even get Captain Jack Sparrow to officiate. I know how much you love Pirates of the Caribbean. We’ve only watched every movie five or six times together.”

Grant gasped. “Captain Jack Sparrow? Really?!”

Reed nodded slowly, his smile widening.

Grant thought his head might pop off. First, Reed drops the bomb that he can’t do this, then he tells him he loves him, and last he proposes to him all in the span of a few minutes. But Captain Jack Sparrow? Oh my… Grant jumped off the bed. “We gotta shower. Do they rent tuxes this late? Or do these places provide pirate clothing?”

Reed laughed. “I’m sure these places provide anything we could need. You get in the shower first. I’ll call around.”

Grant ran towards the bathroom, but turned back to wrap his arms around Reed from behind. He pressed his lips to Reed’s ear. “I love you so much, Reed Weston.”

Reed grabbed Grant’s hand around his neck and nuzzled him. “And I love you, Grant Carroll.”

Grant squeezed his fiancé one more time before heading toward the shower. “Oh my God, I’m going to get married tonight…By a pirate!” He could hear Reed laughing as he closed the bathroom door.

#

Daybreak broke through the small slits in the blinds, waking Reed. He blinked lazily and smiled, watching the bright light play across Grant’s golden hair. His husband laid next to him, flat on his stomach and dead to the world. It had been a whirlwind trip, starting out as wonderful as always, and ending with the two of them married by Captain Jack Sparrow. He couldn’t believe he had been the first one to suggest marriage, let alone to suggest doing it right then and there. But this was no normal man snoring next to him. This was Grant Carroll – the boring accountant from Columbus, Ohio, who came into Reed’s life drunk and adorable, stealing Reed’s broken heart with the uncoordinated wink of his eye and the purity of his soul. And just maybe his fine ass.

Reed looked down at Grant’s hand, the silver band they had purchased at a pawnshop on his finger. Reed wore the matching one. The bands shined bright even in the dim light of the room, much like he hoped their lives would. And as Reed moved to cover Grant’s hand with his, he knew as long as he had Grant by his side, it all was worth it.

THE END

CHARITY

The charity that I chose to feature is The Center, a communal complex in the heart of Las Vegas that offers a variety of wonderful services to the LGBTQ community. I’ve visited this amazing place and immediately felt welcome and part of something much bigger than myself. Besides an extensive lending library, computer stations, and other educational resources, they provide free HIV and STD testing and vaccinations. It is a clean, safe place for anyone to visit if they desire. I wish there were more centers such as this to service the Las Vegas and surrounding areas.
http://www.thecenterlv.org

AUTHOR BIO

Hunter lost a bet at a blackjack table and begrudgingly traded temperate Southern California for the sweltering heat of Las Vegas. There she resides with an extremely tolerant boyfriend and two cats named after her favorite beverage, Latte and Java.

When she’s not dreaming of returning to coastal living, Hunter works at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, from where she recently received her Master’s in British history. In order to appease her muse, she writes the kind of fiction that keeps her sane. She adores romance in all forms, but prefers her stories with two heroes that find their happily-ever-after with each other.

You can find Hunter Frost here:

http://www.twitter.com/HunterFrostMM
http://www.facebook.com/HunterFrostMM
http://www.HunterFrost.net

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A Little Afternoon Talking Trash With the Don of Doms and the Submission (Submit for Redemption, #1) by Robert Cage & Kathryn Sparrow

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TITLE: Submission (Submit for Redemption # 1) by
PUBLISHER: Storm Moon Press
RELEASE DATE: April 17, 2015
GENRE: BDSM Romance

BOOK LINKS:  Storm Moon Press  | Goodreads |  Amazon | Barnes and Noble  |  All Romance (ARe) 

Submission Banner

Talking Trash with the Don of the Doms!  A Special Guest Post!

Hi everybody! I’m Robert Cage, one of the co-authors (along with Kathryn Sparrow) of Submission: Submit for Redemption, Book One. Thanks for hosting us today.

In the excerpt above, masochistic Army Ranger Everett Palmer meets His Grace, Finny Bainbridge for the first time. Finny has just rescued Ev from a violent assault by one of the more sex-crazed and disturbed patrons of Cuffed Links, an illegally operated underground BDSM club in Kabul Afghanistan. Hopefully you get a sense that there’s a lot of electricity passing between these two MCs. It only gets more intense as Finny draws Everett further into his illicit world.

Finny is a somewhat mysterious figure for most of Book One. He’s hiding a lot, mostly from Everett. Wanting only to capture Everett and coerce a confession from him, Finny finds himself falling deeply, inexplicably in love with the younger captain, which both thrills him and knocks him off balance.

We were lucky enough to get a transcription of a telephone interview conducted by Good Reads UK reviewer extraordinaire, Jessie Cox. Her mission, which she generously and gamely accepted, was to interview His Grace from his eponymously-dubbed Greek isle, Phineas, on the morning of his departure, with Everett. Here’s the interview in its entirety, Brit to Brit.

Jessie: Good afternoon, Your Grace. Thanks for dropping by.

Finny: Thank you, Jessie. How do you do? And call me Finny, my friends all do. I don’t often find myself on the other end of an interrogation, as you know [laughs]. Please—go easy on me.

Jessie: I’ll try, but I warn you I have Habib’s number in my pocket as well as a set of thumbscrews in case you’re stubborn.

Finny: Ouch! You’re ruthless—but a woman after my own heart.

Jessie: Quite right. So, what was your relationship with your parents like?

Finny: Right into the fray, eh? You don’t pull punches. [Pauses] To quote the Coen Brother’s delightful film Raising Arizona, it wasn’t Ozzie and Harriet. I lost my mother when I was young, and even when she was alive I believe I saw her once a day for perhaps an hour, after tea. It’s made it hard to even picture her face in my mind or hear her voice at this point. Father was a complete nightmare. When he was around, there was always something wrong it seemed, usually involving me. We never really connected. I was much closer to Habib, my father’s valet and now mine. Father used to have Habib discipline me when I was younger but it wasn’t very effective—we would both usually end up in giggles or tears, sometimes both. Habib never needed to strike me in order to get my nose back in joint. One stern look from him and the wind would exit my sails faster than you could say Jack Robinson.

Jessie: What accomplishment are you most proud of?

Finny: If I can’t name Finding the Love of my Life, in Everett, I’d say… well, that’s a tough one. To be frank, I’m not proud of anything I’ve done. Quite the opposite. I guess it would be a toss-up between starting to weed out contract interrogation jobs that are just wrong. Funny how that’s happened. I used to be such a terrifying son-of-a-bitch. Now, anytime I’m faced with a potential subject all I can see is Everett’s face. Pain is something I’m finding it harder and harder to take pleasure in, unless it’s with Everett, and in a consensual context. It almost feels a violation of our contract to share that with anyone else. Frankly, it has me a bit worried, but maybe it’s a cue that I’m in the wrong line of work altogether. Wouldn’t father find that funny? I’m proud of finally dumping Hector Ventana. What a disaster that was—he only brought out the worst in me, entirely the opposite of Everett in every way. Hector, if you’re reading this, it serves you right. Why are you still obsessing over me? As the yanks say, get a life!

Jessie: What is your most prized possession?

Finny: That’s another thing. Prior to Ev, I wouldn’t know where to start with the list—I have many beautiful things. But now they don’t seem so precious in light of having someone I can truly give my heart to. Though of course I don’t own Ev, not by a long shot. I don’t think anyone owns Everett. And—that bothers me a bit. Old habits die hard, you know. But in answer to your question, I think it would have to be a pair of antique watch fobs that date back a few hundred years, one of which I recently gifted to Everett. Though oddly enough, mine seems to have gone missing as of late.

Jessie: What was losing your virginity like?

Finny: Liberating. Terrifying—amazing. It was after a fencing match at Eton. I’d had my eye on this young man for some months and it was one of those things where each time I’d glance at him, I’d find he was doing the same. And not just glancing, our eyes were exploring each other. Granted, I think this happened quite a bit at fencing events—it certainly didn’t hurt that our uniforms were tight and clingy and we were always bathed in perspiration. This particular match was actually played on my family estate, so I had a very good lay of the land, as they say. Still, I was feeling more and more trepidatious as to what I would say to him—how could I express my feelings and not drive him away, yet also let him know how amazing I thought he was? And how would I get away with making a move on my home turf with forty or so staff roaming in and out of all those rooms. Turns out I didn’t have to say anything. He was waiting in the back of the hall for me just as I thought I’d lost him forever. We made love in a large dusty old closet—banging up against a stock of masks and foils—appropriate, isn’t it? [Laughs]. I spent god knows how many years getting up the nerve to come out of the closet and I find myself breaking cherry inside of one. That should have been a lesson, a harbinger of what was to come. Still, it was magic. My whole view of the world just opened up and a lot—not all—of my constant anger just seemed to leave me. Similar to how I’m feeling now, actually.

Jessie: Let talk more about Ev, since you’ve gone in that direction. What’s the biggest obstacle that you find in connecting with him? I assume you have your disagreements, as all couples do.

Finny: Oh yes. Right now, I’d say it’s trying to get him to see the forest for the trees, as they say. Ev comes from a simpler, more black-and-white world. He has had the responsibility of having many men under his direction in the Rangers but the effects of his decisions were always localized within his squad. The decisions I make can have ramifications all over the world, whether I like it or not. And when your scope of influence expands that far, you eventually hurt people as well as help them. That’s not something he understands just yet. Just as he doesn’t yet understand that I truly know what’s best for him. Not everyone is happy with our union, but I can’t speak too freely about that. He’s going to have to trust me as the road ahead may be difficult for him. But he should understand that, if he’s to keep to our contract as a willing submissive to me.

Jessie: Would you ever marry Ev? If so, where would you take him on your Honeymoon?

Finny: I get very nervous even thinking about that possibility. Not because I don’t want it, but because I don’t feel I’m quite worthy of him. Not yet, anyhow. And as I mentioned before, we still have a lot of hurdles to traverse. But where to go? The island I would think, seeing that it holds so many fond memories for us.

Jessie: The island you’re on now?

Finny: It does have everything we need. There are times I don’t ever want to leave it. Would be wonderful sometimes to just… stop the clock.

Jessie: What do you think is your biggest strength and your biggest weakness?

Finny: When I find something I want, I get it, no matter the cost. My tenacity is well-known. My weakness is that I sometimes don’t consider the cost of those things until it becomes too late. And there is always a cost—something I’m having a hard time learning. Sometimes that cost is monetary, but most often it’s emotional and even spiritual on occasion. I think spiritual cost is what’s taken its toll most on me, as of late.

Jessie: What is something sexual you haven’t yet tried but would like to?

Finny: [Pauses for several minutes, apparently in deep thought] No one’s ever asked me that. Outside of a few blatantly illegal, outright deviant acts, I can’t think of a damn thing. When I owned Cuffed Links, prior to giving it to Hector, I’d push the envelope in a number of directions. I used to take such pride in that. Now it all seems meaningless, a waste of time. The act isn’t what does it for me anymore. It’s hard to believe I’m even saying something like this. [Very long pause] The way I see it now, unless you’re with someone who means something to you, you might as well be banging a hole in the wall, a well-lubricated one, but still…. Why waste your time?

Jessie: Wrapping up, when you look into your future what do you see?

Finny: Everett and only Everett. Without him, there is no future—for me, anyhow. He’s the one thing I can’t afford to lose. And I can’t help wondering if there’s not a cost hidden in there somewhere that I’ve yet to encounter…. But, I must take my leave of you. Everett has quite a big decision to make this morning and we’re due back in Kabul today. Wish me well and it was wonderful chatting.

Jessie: Same here. I wish nothing but the best, Finny. Thanks again.

Contact either Kathryn or myself on Twitter or by email. We live to hear from readers!

Robert: @robertcage2 on Twitter or Robert@robertcage.com.
Kathryn: @KSparrowAuthor on Twitter or Kathryn@kathrynsparrow.com

BLURB:

When Army Ranger Captain Everett Palmer enters gay BDSM club Cuffed Links, he is seeking brutal punishment for what he perceives to be an unforgivable failure: allowing an entire squad of men under his command to dieSFR_book1_500 while he worked to defuse a bomb at his base. Everett initially wants only pure pain, which professional interrogator and jaded British aristocrat Colonel Phineas Bainbridge is more than prepared to give. Their meeting, however, is not at all by chance.

Phineas has been contracted to coerce a false confession from Everett, implicating the captain in planting the bomb. Phineas has tortured many men in the past, but there is something different about Everett Palmer, a man whose sheer purity of soul causes the colonel to question his every selfish, devious act and legion of war crimes.

In Submit for Redemption: Book One – Submission, erotic romance and spiritual redemption come from the most unexpected places – from the seedy extremes of a smoke-laden, neon-drenched bondage den to the tropical, hedonistic pleasures of Phineas’ private Greek island.

On this unbidden psychosexual odyssey, Everett and Phineas find exactly what they don’t expect: a chance to redeem their troubled souls and fulfil their every romantic ideal. But the clock is ticking. The deeper Phineas falls in love with Everett, the harder it becomes to finish his assigned task. If he succeeds, the consequences may be far more explosive than he ever anticipated.

TAGS: Gay, BDSM, Contemporary, LGBT, M/M, Military, Romance
HEAT LEVEL (1 being no sexual content, 5 being erotica): 4
PAIRING: Male/Male
LENGTH: 99,300 Words

EXCERPT

(NSFW – You confirm that you are 18 years of age or older by clicking on the link to continue reading).

AUTHORS BIO:

Kathryn Sparrow has had stories spinning around in her head her whole life and finally decided it was time to write them down. After working twenty years in the Software Industry, she has left the engineering world to be a chauffeur mom (because she doesn’t really get to stay-at-home). She lives with her fantastic, geek husband and her two adorable, sometimes infuriating daughters, who are too smart for their Mommy’s own good. If she had spare time she would spend it knitting, crocheting, cross-stitching, and doing any other handicrafts that catch her fancy.

Email | Website |  Twitter | Goodreads | Storm Moon Press Author Page
Robert Cage has been writing BDSM novels and short stories for close to twenty years, publishing on the Web through various e-book publishers. From 1997 to 2010 he authored four novels and one collection of short fiction under another pseudonym. He has always striven to make his fiction “more story and character-focused than much of what he sees published in the BDSM world.”

Robert has just released his first novel, which he coauthored with writing partner Kathryn Sparrow in the male romance genre. Available now in both Kindle and print formats from Storm Moon Press, it is titled Submit for Redemption/Book One: Submission and is the first book in a multibook series planned by Robert and Kathryn. Robert is currently busy at work on Just Desserts, a novel that is a prequel to Submit for Redemption/Book One: Submission. He and Kathryn also plan to release Submit for Redemption/Book Two: Domination soon, also from Storm Moon Press.

In addition to writing fiction, Robert collects books, music, and films avidly, and also contributes to a number of online film sites as a movie reviewer.
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