Thursday, June 30, 2011

30 days and couting....."Simple" teaser

Somewhere in the strange complexities of the cosmos, this might be a good idea. Nevertheless, John couldn't think of a single place, real or imagined, where it was a good idea for him to be going out to a club, dance club no less.
He was going to have to have a serious talk with Luke about his power of persuasion. A night out meeting friends for drinks, a little steak dinner, and taking in a Red Wings game was his idea of a good time. He wasn't even adverse to a local pub, throwing back a few beers, or maybe a game of darts or pool. But dancing? Really? He didn't dance, at least not where anyone could actually see him. He hated the crowds and the constant slam of strangers against him. What he hated the most about dance clubs was by the end of the night, the dancing reminded him more of an orgy to music than dancing. Not that John was a prude by any stretch of the imagination; he just thought there was a time and place for everything. In his opinion, the middle of a crowded dance floor was neither the time nor the place for fucking.
One minute he had been holding his own, forcing Luke to back down, the next, BAM, dance club plans. He could pinpoint the exact moment he'd lost the battle. It coincided with him agreeing to anything as long as Luke shut the hell up about the disaster known as Jacob. Jacob was a period in his life he wanted to erase.
John stood in front of the mirror studying his image with a critical eye, trying to see himself as others might. He kept his thick chestnut hair neatly styled. Some might say it was a little long, since it had a tendency to curl around his collar, but he rather liked it. His eyes, once described as sea foam green, were just green in his opinion. They were okay. His mouth may be just a little too big for his face, lips a little too full, giving the impression that he wore a pout, but at least he had great teeth, thanks to his Dad being an orthodontist. Four years of braces could do amazing things. He'd been blessed with his mother's clear olive skin and he worked hard at keeping his six-foot-two frame in shape. He wasn't bulky with muscle, but what muscle he had was well defined. He'd do someone who looked like him. Hell, he wouldn't even have to use a bag.
"Listen to yourself!" He glared at the reflection in the mirror. "Your looks have nothing to do with not being good enough for Jacob. You simply aren't." He turned from the mirror, threw the damp towel in the direction of the hamper and stalked out of the bathroom.
With little thought to his attire, he dressed in a comfortable pair of worn jeans that hung low on his hips and a soft green button-up shirt, adding brown leather shoes and matching belt. That was the extent of 'getting ready.' He had no plans to try to impress anyone tonight. He didn't even plan on dancing. Luke wouldn't need much company. He'd give him an hour, maybe less, and Luke would be off in search of his next conquest. Luke, with his over confident charm and absence of emotional connection, was the typical Playboy. Find 'um, fuck 'um, and forget 'um was the motto Luke lived by. John could quietly sneak out of the club when Luke was otherwise occupied and be back home, stretched out on the sofa with the remote in his hand in two hours tops. If lucky, he wouldn't even have to miss this week's episode of Supernatural.

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Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Innocence to the Max - teaser

Dear Author,

This boy wants it all: bondage, pain, punishments and rewards given to him by his first real crush. But he is so young and so confused; he's never done anything like that before. It doesn't help that the guy he's after is a vampire... (who in turn is secretly in love with the beautiful young man) ;)

a hauntingly beautiful young man has a harness draped over his shoulder

Please, help the boy tell his story! Thanks :)

Sincerely,

Mammarella

~*~*~*~*

The Spanish name Francisco-- from the Latin Franciscus, meaning "free man." A strange name for a boy who yearns for nothing more than to be owned.

        They’d just pulled up at a light on the corner of Martin Luther King Boulevard and Ninth Street trying to decide which direction to go, when Cisco turned to stare out the window and, in the blink of an eye, knew it hadn’t been what but whom he had been waiting for his whole life. Leaning against a doorframe, partially hidden in the shadows stood a tall, broad shouldered man, dressed in tight black leather pants, black thigh-high boots and a white, elegantly ruffled, nobleman’s shirt. His face was lost in the shadows, but Cisco could feel the man staring at him, looking inside him. A chill ran down his spine and his skin tingled as he felt the man’s gaze as a soft touch against his skin. Drawn to the stranger, Cisco’s breath hitched, heart raced and he felt compelled to leave the car and go to him. Mine, a voice whispered inside his head like smoke swirling, touching every part of him, the meaning elusive, difficult to understand and eluding capture. 

        Before he had the chance to leave the car, his trembling hand still reaching for the door handle, the light turned green and Benny stomped on the gas.

        “No!” he screamed, wrenching his neck back, trying to keep contact with the mysterious man. “Turn around, Benny! We gotta go back.”

        “What the hell are you talking about?”

        Benny kept driving, and Cisco lost eye contact. No, No, No. “That was him, turn around.”

        Cisco grabbed at the door handle and yanked at it, but the door wouldn’t open. Panic made his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the lock, but before he could get it undone, Benny grabbed onto his arm and yanked him away from the door.

        “What the hell has gotten into you? Jesus, Cisco, give me a minute and I’ll turn around. Who did you see?”

        He met Benny’s concerned-filled eyes as panic continued to bubble just under the surface of his skin causing sweat to dampen his brow and his hands to shake. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know it was him.”

        By the time Benny could make it through heavy traffic and back to the corner where Cisco had spotted him, the stranger was gone. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over at the loss. Sixteen years he’d been waiting and as a red light changed to green, he’d lost it before he even knew what it was that he had found.

  Short story part of Hot July Days coming to M/M Romance Group. Check it out here

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Great Books added to my TBR list this week!

 
Description:

Popular college professor Gabriel Galan has a job he adores in Boston, a hot young lover, and a buddy who goes along on pub crawls and Star Trek nights alike. But Gabriel wants more.

When Gabriel's stubbornly independent father needs help managing his Parkinson's disease, Gabriel takes on more than he bargained for, and his smooth-cruising life is about to take a sharp turn as he teeters on the edge of a new crush on Adam, his father's physical therapy dance class instructor.

Gabriel has always yearned for a co-pilot on his journey through life, but first he needs to take the lead and navigate the troubled waters of his own heart.  GET YOUR COPY HERE

Description:

In the rough desert country of New Mexico, Ben Johnson runs a horse ranch called the Bar J. More than a business, the ranch is home to a collection of drifters, gamblers, drunks, and gunslingers, all of whom have found a second chance at life. What’s more, the ranch is a haven for men who prefer the company of other men, like Ben himself.

He and his young lover, Obie, deal with the everyday running of the Bar J and try to keep their ranch hands out of trouble. But when the arrival of strangers brings threats from without and within, Obie and Ben find out who their friends truly are and whether the strength of their love can see them through. GET YOUR COPY HERE



Description:

A year after his husband is killed in a hit and run, the only thing keeping Parker Adams going is his work and their son, Nate.  When his regular child minder moves away, he hires a live in nanny to give Nate more stability.  Due to a mix up with the envelopes, it isn't the petite Melanie that turns up on his doorstep. Opening the door and finding six feet six of Jake Walsh on the stoop fills Parker with panic.  Not that Jake wasn't perfect for the job; he was. A little too perfect, with his dark brown eyes and easy going nature.  Which is why Parker had purposely decided to give the job to the other candidate.  In the half an hour of his interview, Jake Walsh had awoken feelings in Parker that he had thought were gone forever.  How was he going to cope with the man under his roof twenty-four-seven? GET YOUR COPY HERE


Description:

Bangkok is a hedonist's paradise and sex is big business. But Philadelphia lawyer, David Elliot isn't interested in the sinful pleasures Bangkok has to offer. His only concerns are real estate and conglomerates. His personal life might be shit, but his professional life is on track and that's all he cares about. On his first night in town, he spots a young Thai man in the hotel bar and there's an immediate connection between them. Kai brings a joie de vivre into David's life that's long been missing, but after a few blissful weeks, Kai disappears. David is hurt but he knows it was never meant to be anything more than a pleasant diversion. He returns to the states but he can't help feeling he's left something very important behind.
 
Kai was rescued from a life on the streets only to become a virtual sex slave to a wealthy expatriate who deals in sex and drugs. When Rick finds out Kai has been seeing David he punishes him and locks him in the house. Kai is in love with David but resigned to a life with Rick. There was never a future for him and the American, and knowing what Rick is capable of, he fears for David's life. GET YOUR COPY HERE

Monday, June 27, 2011

I'm curious....

I just returned from a short 5 day vacation to DC and the amount of catch up I have to do has me wondering if the vacation that was so sorely needed was in the end worth it. I'm completely out of sorts and trying to get reorganized and back on track this morning seems to be a monumental task.
I've spoken to a lot of different authors and everyone seems to have their own system. Many write only one book at a time while others can have multiple books in the works at the same time. Readers seem to follow this as well. It always amazes me that someone can be reading more than one book, listening to another on audio, when I have to give one book my sole focus. Than again, I blow my friend away that I sometimes have three or more books in the works at the same time. I find that when I try to focus on one book my muse gets a little testy. He tends to side with the characters who are screaming the loudest that morning and I am completely at their mercy. If I try to work on what I want and force my opinion on my muse he turns into a naughty little thing who will just clam up and run away until I agree to give in to his demands.
Solution....let him have his wicked ways with me and kiss a little muse butt :) 
So my question of the day is.....How many authors have more than one WIP going at a time and how many can only write one?  Readers.....Do you read one book at a time or can you switch back and forth from more than one at a time?  Inquiring minds want to know :)

Sunday, June 26, 2011

New Author Sunday - Sam Leonhard

Description:
Gabriel Jordan lives a lonely life on the streets, taking the rare job that usually means spending hours in the cold, waiting for a chance to take a photograph of a cheating spouse. That’s how he meets Dr. Aleksei Tennant—who he sees suspiciously jumping from a window of a woman’s apartment. Tennant introduces Gabriel to the hidden worlds, magical worlds connected to this one by portals. Gabriel is eager to learn the runes for opening them, Tennant is eager to teach, and a fragile friendship develops amidst a series of murders.

These aren’t just any murders. The killer has a grudge against the mixture of other races: he doesn't kill humans, only those of the hidden worlds who are producing children of tainted blood. When the killer attacks them directly, Gabriel and Tennant have to team up to find the murderer, even though they’re putting themselves, their love, and any chance at a future together, in danger.

GET YOUR COPY HERE

Friday, June 24, 2011

Another Sneak Peek Excerpt from Loving Luke Vasquez

GHOSTS could be quite comfortable in a place like the armory, full of cubbyholes and closets, corridors and large, echoing chambers. Sonny found a few of his own ghosts: shades of youth, hours of work, moments stolen for trickster substances and dark, secret sex. Discovery. Not of what he was—queer, artist, vulnerable—but of what he might make of those materials. Most of the Sonny Bly James that had come of it, he liked. Some things he’d do differently. Some things he’d change now if he could.

Like Delsyn. He’d take better care of the boy if he could go back. He wouldn’t let him run wild. He wouldn’t let him take chances with his life. He wouldn’t have to worry and wonder if this time he’d come back in time, or never again.

He stepped through the corridors almost blindly, remembering his days at Western, the university that technically owned the building. Remembering the way he’d neglected his young cousin while he spent time there at the armory. With every step, he fell deeper into that past,
seeing everything in the old, oddly-used ruin not as it was, but as it once had been, until Luki gripped his shoulder and turned him around to face him.

“Slow down,” Luki whispered, so quiet the sound fell away before it reached Sonny’s ears. “And stay behind me!”

Feeling guilty, Sonny nodded and let Luki pass. His ghosts vanished as he marshaled his attention to the here and now, treading carefully, feet—even breath—as close to silent as he could make them.

A flash of movement behind a half-lit, half-glassed door. Luki put his hand out to hold him back, stepped toward the door, gun in hand, and pushed it open. The man fled, but not before Sonny, closer behind Luki than he should have been, got a good look.

“That’s him,” he said. “That’s the guy who stabbed me.”

*
Luki registered Sonny’s meaning before he finished speaking. In motion immediately, he laid a forearm across Sonny’s chest, stopping him before he could step out, then flying after his target, relaxing his body, freeing his muscles to move without hindrance. Without ever increasing the tension, he reached his target and kicked, striking behind the knee.

The man—no, another kid, maybe as old as Josh—went down and rolled over, putting an arm over his face as if fearing a blow.

“Mr. K? Are you Mr. K? I’m sorry I ran. I got scared. Please!”

“Damn,” Luki said. And wanted another cigarette. “What’s your name?”

“BJ. I’m BJ, like I told you before. That’s what everybody calls me, I mean. Please, I did what you asked. I did the best I could. I—”

“BJ, just shut up for a minute.” He locked the safety on his gun and holstered it, looked at Sonny, who was staring at him and looking a little out of his comfort zone. “What are you looking at?” he asked, which drew a little smile from Sonny but apparently confused BJ.

“I’m not, I mean, please, Mr. K—”

“Not you, BJ! And stop calling me that. I’m not Mr. K. Now stop talking until I ask you to start.”

“Okay, Mr.— “

“What did I just say?”

BJ got the message and made a lip-zipping motion, which made Luki want to laugh. He didn’t, of course. He gentled his voice a bit. Here he was again with a kid who wasn’t likely to be the real bad guy.

“Is there anyone else here, kid?”

“No! I did like you said, Mr.— “

“I’m not Mr. K!”

“I came by myself!” A shred of a sarcastic adolescent attitude peaked through, and he added, “Whoever you are.”

“Whoever I am, I’m probably not as sleazy as Mr. K,” Luki said, “but I could probably be scarier. Information, BJ. For now, that’s what I want from you. First, are you still expecting this Mr. K?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so. I got here late. I think maybe he was already here and left.”

“Lyin’ little shit,” Sonny said, his voice not at all patient or kind.

It wasn’t hard to understand why Sonny might be less than happy with the boy, but Luki was pretty sure a modified game of “good cop, bad cop” wouldn’t get them what they wanted. He gave Sonny a glare.

When BJ started to edge away toward the door they’d just come in, Luki kept his glare on Sonny while pulling his pistol smoothly, slipping the safety, and pointing it unwaveringly straight at BJ. “We’re not done, BJ.”

The boy went still, but Luki’s glare seemed to have no intimidating effect on Sonny at all. He began to wonder if he should have played it the other way—gun on Sonny, glare at BJ. Too late now. “Sonny, perhaps—”

“Don’t bother, old man. I get the message. But I won’t be listening to you comfort that junky scum.”

“Sonny, stay close,” Luki said, but the door had already closed behind him. Luki turned his attention back to the “junky scum.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Think what?”

“Why,” Luki said, the strain on his patience about to surpass what it could handle without a cigarette, “do you think he was already here and left?”

“Because,” BJ whispered, wide eyes shining in the dying light.

“Because of what I saw in that other room.”

Luki had it on the tip of his tongue to ask what he saw, but he thought twice. Whatever it was, it had the kid so frightened he could barely speak of it. And when he spoke of it, he gestured with his chin toward the door Sonny had just gone through. Luki holstered his gun and in a fluid motion reached behind him and snapped a pair of nylon cuffs from their concealment on the inside of his belt; without even hesitating, he gathered the kid’s arms and slapped the bindings on.

“I’m under arrest?”

“I’m not a cop,” Luki said as he pulled the struggling boy toward the door. “But listen to this: if you can’t be still with those cuffs on, I can hitch your hands to your ankles behind your back and string you from a coat hook.” Nice, creative, empty threat, Luki congratulated himself, especially since BJ seems to believe it.

He pulled his captive out into the corridor, where he found a lot of shadows that were not harboring Sonny and some crates that Sonny was not sitting on. Luki held his breath, fighting down an uncharacteristic blast of adrenaline—something close to panic. Which I could fight down much easier with a cigarette. But there was no time for that. Mouth gone dry, he rasped, “Take me to this other room.”

BJ pointed with his chin again. “It’s that door, right there.”

Following that direction, Luki strode down the hall, heedless of the stumbling teen he was practically dragging behind him and making no effort now to keep his feet silent on the hardwood floor. Pushing open the wide, heavy door, he found a cavernous space that must, he
figured, be against the building’s outer wall. Blue light, streetlamps or moonshine, flooded in from a bank of high windows to his right. The high ceilings were lost in darkness, and in the opposite wall, wide double doors, the kind you might see on an old garage, stood almost
closed against the cool night air.

Which had nothing to do with the chill that crept up Luki’s spine.

Sonny stood like a marble statue in silhouette against the almost light flooding the room. At the sound of Luki entering with BJ, he let out a long, slow sigh and turned his head so slowly he might have been an apparition, the only break in his dark form a hard glint in his eyes. Luki recovered his power of thought and sat BJ down in a corner. “Don’t move,” he said.

“No, sir,” BJ answered, teeth chattering.

Luki knew exactly what had the young man so frightened. He could smell it. He switched on his flashlight, careful to keep the light low and shielded.

A slick on the floor as if someone had been dragged through a puddle. A smear on the partially-tiled wall under the windows—with a double handprint clearly visible near the baseboard. And almost at Sonny’s feet, a small pool of dark liquid, drops splashed around its edges.

And smeared across the wall: FAGGOT. FAGGOT. FAGGOT.

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Sneak Peek Excerpt from Loving Luki Vasquez

Leaning back on the low balcony wall Luki gazed through the glass. Inside, an electric fireplace threw orange light and blue shadows over the room, casting Sonny’s shoulders in bronze. Luki found himself imagining the rest of Sonny’s bare skin glorified in that light. He went back inside and stood at the foot of the bed, couldn’t help it, stared at Sonny’s sleeping form, chewing his lip.
“What are you looking at?” Sonny asked, apparently not sleeping and always the jester. Luki almost laughed. Sonny seemed to be trying to find some moisture in his drug-dried mouth, so he took him a glass of water. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched him swallow.
Sonny managed to deposit the water glass on the night table without a major spill, then met Luki’s eyes again, more serious this time. “What are you thinking about?”
Luki waited, feeling his breath go scarce, his heart insisting on heating his blood. “You,” he said. After his treatment of Sonny that morning, speaking his mind now felt like a frightening plunge. “I’m thinking about putting my mouth all over you.”
Sonny returned his gaze. Faint, sober smile. No jokes, no words.
Luki leaned over and kissed his mouth, sweet and soft. “Yes?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Luki started with another kiss, sucking honey from Sonny’s lips. He visited tender, fleshy earlobes, dusted the lightest of kisses over fluttering eyelids. He feathered his lips and tongue over the line of Sonny’s jaw and down to the dip at the base of his throat. Sonny moved as if to participate. Luki held him back, gently pushed him down. With tongue and teeth and lips he paid tribute to every beautiful curve and hollow and rise of Sonny’s body he could reach without causing his wound to hurt. He kissed the hollows behind his collarbone, gently nipped taut nipples, poked his tongue into the dip of his navel. Then, the miraculous valley inside each hip—there he started at the fold of Sonny’s thigh and blazed a trail of kisses to the place that made Sonny dig his hands into Luki’s hair.
Once more, on the other side.
Sonny shifted again as if to participate, but Luki took hold of his hands and paused to meet his eyes. “No,” he said. “Be still.” Sonny’s belly clenched and he gasped, as if he thought the words, all by themselves, were sex play. His prick had hardened to the point that the tight skin pulled it almost flat against his belly. Luki ignored it, except to run his tongue beneath to collect the pool of pre-cum that had gathered there, brushing across the head of Sonny’s penis in the process. Downward again, inside the thighs, behind the knees, the sensitive toes and arches. Slowly, then up again, until he came once more to the center of Sonny’s excitement, pleasure, and despair, and began to address the heat arising there. He spread Sonny’s legs, burrowed his hands beneath his ass to hold him still.
Sonny grabbed at his hair again, said, “Luki, please.”
“No,” Luki said. “Wait.” Thick, wet lips, the flat of his tongue, a long, light kiss. He teased at the small, diamond-shaped tenderness just behind the head of Sonny’s penis, circled the smooth coronal ridge with his tongue, closed his mouth over the taut, curved head. Pleasuring. Or perhaps, judging from Sonny’s struggling breath, torturing.
“God, Luki, please,” he panted.
“Wait,” Luki said. He stroked the length of Sonny’s cock, squeezing, and with thumbs gathered the lubricant that emerged. Again cupping Sonny’s ass in his strong hands, he used the now slick thumbs to massage the sensitive rim of Sonny’s anus, sucking at his firm testes before moving his mouth once again to his erection. Sonny felt good to him, tasted sweet. Luki rejoiced in every touch he applied to Sonny’s gorgeous skin. But what drove him on his quest was a deep, unfamiliar desire to please at all costs. Luki applied all his experience and skill, relentless, merciless, demanding, but slow and sweet. Sonny’s breathing became ragged and his grip on Luki’s hair turned desperate, insistent, almost violent.
Luki dropped his mouth over Sonny’s shaft, opening his throat, and then sucked upward, slow and hard, at the same time pushing his two thumbs just inside, just past the pliant opening.
To Luki’s overwhelming pleasure, Sonny responded just as intended. He moaned long and low, almost silent, and the first hard pulse of orgasm shook him, splashing semen against Luki’s swollen lips.
After a while Sonny’s breathing calmed. Luki flared his nostrils to draw in the smell of Sonny’s sex, like saving it up.

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