tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67076627978437922152024-03-13T06:35:10.518-07:00 SJD Peterson ~ It's All in the TouchThis is where you'll find my current and coming soon books, as well as works in progress and other writerly stuffAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-18852653188969884222020-01-19T06:29:00.000-08:002020-01-19T07:44:15.998-08:00Major Changes Coming!!!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1UiYHEd8whA4saS8QL-ykX0JUhCbQzrvvPKTS7FFlHpvLBLkkKMwg0lOnErxnuSmMjshQxRd75t7YjqreMrM_Rcx5TZUOjkN8zf-Wlxn3AIqnFplWthCpYucbkDW0CMsDjsaibHsSw8k/s1600/UnderConstruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1UiYHEd8whA4saS8QL-ykX0JUhCbQzrvvPKTS7FFlHpvLBLkkKMwg0lOnErxnuSmMjshQxRd75t7YjqreMrM_Rcx5TZUOjkN8zf-Wlxn3AIqnFplWthCpYucbkDW0CMsDjsaibHsSw8k/s1600/UnderConstruction.jpg" /></a></div>
I hope you'll bear with me as this blog as well as my sjdpeterson.com site will be going through some major transformations. They reflect the changes I've had to make in myself as well as my writing career.<br />
The first thing you will notice is the links for some of my books will disappear and will no longer be available. Fear not, this will be temporary. They will be getting a good dusting and some much needed love before being reintroduced to the world. In addition, some new titles will make their debut. At the moment I don't have a date for when books will be available but as soon as I get that all worked out I will let everyone know. I am currently putting together a newsletter which will track the progress of the magnitude of changes. I will also post them here and on sjdpeterson.com.<br />
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I can feel great things coming in 2020. This will be my year. This is not a new years resolution. It's not a wish or hope. It's a fact because I'm going to make it my year! It's my dream and dammit I'm going to make it happen!!!<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i>~HUGS~</i></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i>Jo</i></h2>
<br />SJD Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065121528177528955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-84943338463203136922020-01-15T20:30:00.002-08:002020-01-15T20:30:37.496-08:00It's been awhile....<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've been contemplating my writing career for quite some time. First, I want to say that I'm sorry to those who followed me, supported me and read my books for walking away. I'm not going to go into all the details of the whys. It's a long story. Just know that I didn't make the decision lightly but had to for my own mental health. That, and the fact I had to pay some bills :) With that said, please know I never gave up on my dreams</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><img alt="Photo: " class="zfCshd" data-atf="false" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrVbTZG98qvvBC_AYa71bZkjk5h5qMtOGJ83ret7CtoUkFyDhg0IrNS0BfRHBCElZ56EEqtWAabXBiBBfPOTK_l-9bwpG90MZ2lpSyVp_kB0_wFpzc4IJHQg-1ttKFstBRJ8r5nRYBd0v/w413-h275/" width="275" /> </div>
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I still have plenty of stories to tell and I'm ready to dust off some old files and and bring them into the light. I will also be making some hard decisions going forward as to how those stories are delivered to you. All I do know at the moment, is that I'm ready to jump back into my writing with both feet (and hands). and whatever the future holds I will be doing it on my terms. This is my dream and dammit, no one will get to tell me how my story goes but me! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~Hugs~</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jo </div>
SJD Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065121528177528955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-64391406264486687562016-02-01T15:57:00.002-08:002016-02-01T15:57:41.220-08:00Romance A-Z Antonia Aquilanti<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRb4_y9gDyrvFi7BaP4B4Qou89EqqrrMphzo2Jma0ZFXRDJfbqvvAAwTfEau7NZQq4A4zJACmNtJ-l8QMLfnACygO1IUb0L4pdpC2bTQGTbEHdvED46UAXlinpQQbbNbSSbr98QwCVsHD/s1600/ArtistsMasquerade_color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRb4_y9gDyrvFi7BaP4B4Qou89EqqrrMphzo2Jma0ZFXRDJfbqvvAAwTfEau7NZQq4A4zJACmNtJ-l8QMLfnACygO1IUb0L4pdpC2bTQGTbEHdvED46UAXlinpQQbbNbSSbr98QwCVsHD/s320/ArtistsMasquerade_color.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px;">
<b>Blurb: </b></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #232323; font-family: "arial";">As
the first-born son of the Duke of Tournai and cousin to the prince,
Cathal has always tried to fulfill his duty to family and country,
including following through with an arranged marriage to Velia, cousin
to the emperor of Ardunn. But it’s Velia’s companion, Flavia, who
fascinates Cathal. Cathal doesn’t know that Flavia is really Flavian, a
man masquerading as a woman to escape Ardunn, a restrictive place in
which Flavian’s preference for men is forbidden.</span><b><br /></b></div>
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<div style="color: #232323; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px;">
Even
when Cathal discovers Flavian’s true gender, he cannot fight his
attraction to him. Flavian is intrigued by Cathal, but Cathal is still
betrothed to Velia, and Flavian worries Cathal is more taken with his
feminine illusion than the man beneath it. While both men battle their
longings for each other, spies from Ardunn infiltrate the capital,
attempting to uncover Tournai’s weaknesses. They are also searching for
Flavian, who possesses a magical Talent that allows him to see the truth
of a person just by painting their portrait—a skill invaluable to
Ardunn’s emperor.</div>
<b style="font-size: 13px;">Buy Link: Amazon: </b><a href="http://amzn.to/1Yv0xL8" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;" target="_blank">http://amzn.to/1Yv0xL8</a><br />
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<span class="im"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">ROMANCE <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IS IN THE AIR</span></span></b></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">R</span></b></span><span style="font-size: 18pt;"> -</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><b>Tell us the most Romantic thing you have ever done for that special someone.</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't have a special someone right now, so I'm letting my characters make all the romantic gestures.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">O</span></b></span><span style="font-size: 18pt;"> </span>- <span style="font-size: small;"><b>What’s the Oddest gift you’ve received on Valentine’s Day. What’s the Oddest gift you’ve given. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
can't remember anything truly odd that I've ever given someone or
received. Some silly little things but nothing really strange. Someone
did give a pair of Valentine's sock with hearts on them once, which is
probably a bit odd but they were cute and warm!</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">M</span></b></span> - <span style="font-size: small;"><b>You’re Making dinner for that special someone and want to impress them, what do you Make?</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pasta
or risotto probably. I love to cook for people. Most of my favorite
dishes to make (and eat!) are Italian, and risotto always seems
impressive. I'd have to make something for dessert too. Chocolate swirl
cheesecake sounds perfect.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">A</span></b></span> - <span style="font-size: small;"><b>After the holiday has passed, what little things do you do to keep the Romance in a relationship?</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="line-height: 13pt;">I'm a believer that all sorts of little, everyday things can be romantic, or you can </span><span style="line-height: 17.3333px;">have</span><span style="line-height: 13pt;"> little, romantic moments everyday, anyway. I think it's all about remembering to take the time and pay attention.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">N</span></b></span><span style="font-size: 18pt;"> </span>-<span style="font-size: 18pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><b>When getting a gift from a lover for Valentine’s Day, do you hope it’s Naughty or Nice? </b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm a romantic so I'm a sucker for the nice, sweet gifts. But I wouldn't turn down naughty...</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">C</span></b></span> – <b>C<span style="font-size: small;">andy
and flowers are the number one gifts given on Valentine’s Day. You’ve
waited until the last minute and both gifts are sold out, what is your
back up gift idea? </span></b></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
would probably bake a decadent treat of some sort. Maybe something
chocolatey to make up for the candy. Who doesn't love homemade baked
goods?</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">E</span></b></span> – <span style="font-size: small;"><b>The neck seems to be a very popular Erogenous zone. What spot on your body drives you crazy?</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 13pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; word-wrap: break-word;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's the neck for me too.</span></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKp6jNWgm5gQTCKc1zTHh851Bk5oQOXs1uRJTA4SDWGcOgz_NyMtyk1k7mNToMvJWE3QCktUkFXqpapl08qXSUgmLHAkXgyjR58e9ChL7RGd5PN-cds04UXjgU3RN4o7kcROcTUfBehVRZ/s1600/9082647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKp6jNWgm5gQTCKc1zTHh851Bk5oQOXs1uRJTA4SDWGcOgz_NyMtyk1k7mNToMvJWE3QCktUkFXqpapl08qXSUgmLHAkXgyjR58e9ChL7RGd5PN-cds04UXjgU3RN4o7kcROcTUfBehVRZ/s320/9082647.jpg" width="213" /></a><b> Bio: </b></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Antonia
Aquilante has been making up stories for as long as she can remember,
and at the age of twelve, decided she would be a writer when she grew
up. After many years and a few career detours, she has returned to that
original plan. Her stories have changed over the years, but one thing
has remained consistent - they all end in happily ever after.
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She has a
fondness for travel (and a long list of places she wants to visit and
revisit), taking photos, family history, fabulous shoes, baking treats
which she shares with friends and family, and of course reading. She
usually has at least two books started at once and never goes anywhere
without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to ebooks, she still loves
paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them residing
in her home with her.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Born and
raised in New Jersey, she is living there again after years in
Washington, DC, and North Carolina for school and work. She enjoys being
back in the Garden State but admits to being tempted every so often to
run away from home and live in Italy.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the New Jersey Romance Writers.</span><br />
<div style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
<b>Facebook: </b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/AntoniaAquilanteAuthor" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.<wbr></wbr>com/AntoniaAquilanteAuthor</a></span><b><br /></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
<b>Twitter: </b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/antoniaquilante" target="_blank">http://www.twitter.<wbr></wbr>com/antoniaquilante</a></span><b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Blog: </b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.antoniaaquilante.com/blog" target="_blank">http://www.<wbr></wbr>antoniaaquilante.com/blog</a></span></div>
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SJD Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065121528177528955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-53108499922305724092013-10-05T14:22:00.002-07:002013-10-05T14:23:37.055-07:00Read the Prologue and 1st Chapter from TAG TEAM<a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/TagTeam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Tag Team by SJD Peterson eBook" border="0" height="240" hspace="5" name="product4241" src="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/TagTeam.jpg" title="Tag Team by SJD Peterson eBook" vspace="5" width="160" /></a><br />
<div class="ttl" style="padding-bottom: 5px;">
<i>Description:</i></div>
<div class="pDescr">
<b><i>Guards of Folsom: Book Two</i></b> <br />
<br />
Following the death of their sub, the former owners of the Guards of
Folsom, Robert “Bobby” Alcott and Rig Beckworth, were left to pick up
the pieces as best they could. After seven years, these two Doms are
ready to move on and find the boy who will complete them. Their painful
past comes crashing back when they meet Mason Howard, a submissive who
just weeks ago lost his Doms in a car accident. <br />
<br />
Reeling from
overwhelming grief that’s complicated by a severe social anxiety
disorder, Mason can barely leave his home. When Rig and Bobby find him,
he’s hit rock bottom, believing life is no longer worth living. Bobby
and Rig set out to prove the younger man wrong. Fate has brought the
three men together, but they’ll have to face the pain of fear and loss
head-on before they can all truly live again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Get your copy <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4241&cPath=55_424" target="_blank">HERE </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b>Prologue</b><br />
<br />
“GOD have mercy on his soul.”<br />
<br />
God? There was no God, and there sure as hell wouldn’t be any
mercy bestowed on Charles Robert Jones. Mason wiped angrily at the tears
on his cheeks with his sleeve and glared at the priest who had come to
say a last prayer for the dearly departed.<br />
<br />
Neither the pastor nor the prayer had been Mason’s idea, nor
would Charles have wanted it. No one seemed to care what he or Charles
wanted. To the few family members who were in attendance—two sisters, an
aunt, and a couple of cousins—Mason Howard didn’t exist. He wasn’t
allowed to sit amongst them, relegated to stand at the back and away
from the casket—wouldn’t want to upset the <i>family</i> with his
presence. In fact, Charles’s older sister Maria had even gone as far as
to call Mason and say, “We think it’d be best if you not attend.”<br />
<br />
Mason hadn’t even dignified her with an answer, just hit the end
button on his phone and threw it across the room. He responded to the
request by not only showing up at the funeral home each day—he had been
the first to arrive at the cemetery, which was another thing Charles
wouldn’t have wanted. Mason shouldn’t be here; none of them should.
Charles had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to be cremated and
his ashes scattered over the land he had lived on and loved with Mason
and Gregory. Again, Mason hadn’t gotten a say in it and apparently
neither had Charles; the black casket about to be lowered into the
ground was proof.<br />
<br />
Charles’s family had finally been able to contain him in a shiny
box, the kind they could understand. The box, the setting, the words,
none of it was who Charles Robert Jones was. Now some man—a messenger of
a God long dead to Mason—was trying to redeem a soul
condemned—possessed by sin.<br />
<br />
Mason had tried to tell both Maria and Charles’s other sister
Carol what Charles’s last wishes were, but they’d refused to listen to
him. He’d fought as hard as he could for Charles, but he’d failed. He
had no legal rights. He didn’t get any say in what happened to the man
he knew better than all of them. It didn’t matter that he’d been the
only person, present company included, who had shared the man’s life
every single day for the last twelve years.<br />
<br />
That wasn’t true. There had been one other person.<br />
<br />
Mason tipped his head back, looking up at the changing sky with
tear-filled eyes. His chest tightened so painfully it stole his breath. <i>Oh God, Gregory</i>, he cried silently. <i>Look what they are doing to him</i>.<br />
<br />
In the distance a bolt of lightning cracked, splitting the
horizon. The clouds churned, gray swirling billows overtaking the
robin’s-egg blue of an otherwise peaceful summer sky. As if even the
heavens were manifesting Mason’s anger, bearing witness to Gregory’s
defeat, and reflecting the sorrow of Charles’s soul trapped in that pine
box.<br />
<br />
At least Gregory had been cremated as had been his wish. His
ashes sat on the kitchen table of their seaside home, waiting to be set
free. Mason choked on a sob as it hit him in the center of his very
being. He was putting one lover in the cold hard ground alone and
abandoning the other to the winds, when their earthly remains should
have been intermingled forever.<br />
<br />
The creaking of a winch pulled Mason from his musings just in
time to hear the priest say, “Unite us together again in one family, to
sing your praise forever and ever. Amen.”<br />
<br />
The choked sound of sobbing from Charles’s family inflamed Mason
as much as the priest’s hollow words did. These people with their
bullshit of <i>being together again in one family</i>, the fake tears,
caused rage to claw at Mason’s chest, bile to rise up in his throat,
and he trembled with the power of it. He wanted to scream at the
injustice of it, to howl, <i>Me! I’m his family. Me, who loves him unconditionally for who and what he was. He’s mine! He belongs to me and Gregory.</i> We’re <i>his family.</i><br />
<br />
Click. Click. Click.<br />
<br />
Mason covered his ears, the agonized screaming in his head not
enough to drown out the maddening sounds of the gears turning. Each
click took Charles farther and farther away. Soon he’d be out of reach,
gone forever.<br />
<br />
Click. Click. Click.<br />
<br />
<i>Stop them. You fucking coward, stop them. Do it. Do it NOW!</i><br />
<br />
Mason’s fingers curled in hair, setting off sparks of pain on
each side of his skull, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His heart
hammered in his chest, the adrenaline surged through his system, and he
couldn’t breathe.<br />
<br />
As the familiar signs of a panic attack coursed through him,
Mason sank to the ground against his will, his knees giving out as he
gasped for breath. The pain in his head, the screaming inside it, the
shiny black casket, the click, click, click of the winch, Gregory,
Charles, all of it pressed down on him, and his chest clenched, throat
constricted, he couldn’t fucking breathe.<br />
<br />
<i>Focus. Breathe.</i><br />
<br />
Somewhere in his haze-filled brain, he knew what he had to do. He
had to relax, breathe, and focus. It would pass, and if it didn’t, if
he couldn’t relax enough to get air into his lungs, his body would shut
down and override his fucked-up head. Waking up from a panic-induced
sleep sucked; the screaming headache would leave him dazed for hours.
He’d lived through hundreds, thousands of these attacks throughout his
life; he just needed to focus, listen for the soothing sound of
Gregory’s voice, the calming touch of Charles’s hands, because without
them to pull him back from the edge….<br />
<br />
<i>Dead.</i><br />
<br />
Mason tried to open his eyes to stop the haunting images that
blinked in his head, flashing like a strobe light. Twisted wreckage—
Mangled bodies— Blood.<br />
<br />
<i>NO!</i><br />
<br />
They would come for him. Gregory would talk him down. Charles
would touch him and soothe him, and the three of them would snuggle
together afterward. Mason couldn’t do it without them.<br />
<br />
They wouldn’t leave him.<br />
<br />
Ever.<br />
<br />
They had promised him when they put the collar around his neck.
He would forever belong to them, and Gregory and Charles had vowed they
wouldn’t ever leave him.<br />
<br />
<i>Open your eyes, boy. Focus right here. Open your eyes and look at me.</i><br />
<br />
At the sound of Gregory’s authoritative voice, Mason’s eyes flew
open, the edges of his vision dark. Mason blinked, trying to do as he
was told, but everything was blurry and his eyes closed of their own
accord. “Sir,” he managed to wheeze out. “Help—”<br />
<br />
Mason’s entire body trembled, and his oxygen-deficient lungs
caused an agonizing burn to spread through him, but he wouldn’t fail his
master. Mason pushed the pain down into the pit of his churning gut,
rose above the misery. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Gregory.<br />
<br />
Mason’s eyes fluttered open, and before him stood a figure
dressed all in black, its pale fingers curled into a fist. It all came
rushing back in a flash, every agonizing detail—his pain, his loss, his
new reality. Maria’s dark eyes bore into him accusingly as she opened
her hand and let the dirt fall into the grave.<br />
<br />
Darkness surrounded him like giant arms, welcoming him into its
embrace, and Mason gave himself over to it. He felt himself floating
away, the pain fading too. His last conscious thought: <i>Please don’t let me wake this time.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Chapter 1</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
RIG BECKWORTH was stretched out in his lounge chair, dark shades
shielding his eyes, skin glistening with coconut oil. He was the study
of a happy tourist. “Rest and relaxation,” he’d said. “Scantily dressed
boys,” he’d said. “We’ll have fun,” he’d said. Bobby glared at him.
“Does it look like I’m having fun?” Bobby grumbled under his breath.<br />
<br />
“What was that?” Rig asked sleepily.<br />
<br />
Bobby continued to grumble, cursing low as he adjusted the
umbrella in a feeble attempt to shield his body from the Florida heat.
“My popper is popped,” Bobby complained and then winced when sweat ran
into his eye. “Goddammit!” He wiped at his burning eye and wet face with
a damp hand towel.<br />
<br />
“Your what has popped?” Rig chuckled and rolled on his side to look at him.<br />
<br />
“My popper.”<br />
<br />
Rig cocked his head and lifted his shades, his expression confused.<br />
<br />
“You know the little plastic thing they stick in a turkey?” Rig’s
frown deepened, and Bobby waved him off and sighed heavily. “Never
mind, I forgot I’m talking to the king of pizza and TV dinners.”<br />
<br />
“Good thing I have you, then, huh,” Rig said with a smirk and lowered his shades.<br />
<br />
“If I have to sit out here in this heat, you’re not going to have
me much longer. I’m hot,” Bobby whined. “There is a reason Florida
doesn’t have bears, Rig. It’s too hot and we have too much fur.”<br />
<br />
“Aww, c’mon, baby, it’s not that bad,” Rig coddled. He lay back
in the lounger, tilted his chin up toward the sun. A broad smile spread
across his face, and Bobby suddenly had the urge to slap it off.<br />
<br />
Bobby’s eyes narrowed, and he gritted his teeth. Over the last
twenty-four years together, the only time Rig called him baby was when
he was a) fucking with him, or b)…. Nope, only when he was fucking with
him. Rig had never been overly romantic or one to use endearments.<br />
<br />
“I’m here so you’re not the only bear sweatin’ it out,” Rig added. “And this bear loves it.”<br />
<br />
“No. You’re a cub,” Bobby corrected.<br />
<br />
Rig was far from smooth. He had a head full of thick, dark curls
that brushed the top of his collar, and his sparse goatee and soul patch
were dusted with silver. When Bobby had first met Rig all those years
ago, he’d been tall, with lean well-defined muscles. Rig’s chest,
stomach, and limbs had been lightly covered in dark hair. He hadn’t
changed much, though the lean body was now softer. At forty-eight, he
wore the number of years he’d lived on his face.<br />
<br />
Rig rolled once again and turned his head to Bobby. “You could shave—”<br />
<br />
“Don’t even suggest it,” Bobby interrupted.<br />
<br />
“I’m not saying shave it off, but maybe instead of trying to look
like one of the front men for ZZ Top you could… trim it a little.” He
snapped his fingers. “I know, you could be like their drummer.” Rig’s
brow furrowed, and he considered Bobby for a moment. “You know, I bet
that’s not his real name.”<br />
<br />
Bobby ran his hand over his chin, pulled at the two-inch-long
hair. “Mine’s not even close to that length,” he said irritably. “And
what do you mean not his real name? Who?”<br />
<br />
“Their drummer,” Rig said with a hint of exasperation. As if
Bobby should have just known whom he was talking about. “I mean,
seriously, the two front men have beards that go halfway down their
torsos and the one guy in the group who doesn’t have one, his last name
is Beard? I don’t buy it. Remind me to google that shit when we get back
to the house.”<br />
<br />
A bead of sweat rolled down Bobby’s forehead, but he wiped it away this time before it could burn his eyes. <i>That’s it</i>.
He tossed the towel aside and sat up, sending the umbrella tumbling to
the sand. “How about we go google it now? Because seriously, this
weather sucks out loud.”<br />
<br />
“C’mon, Bobby, we just got out here and the locals will be
getting out of work soon. You don’t want to miss the pretty boy show, do
you?”<br />
<br />
Wakitta was a small southern Florida town, situated on the gulf.
It had a couple of great restaurants, collectable shops, and a bakery,
but without the commercialized tourist traps like many gulf-side towns.
The fact that Wakitta hadn’t fallen to the big developers was part of
its appeal for him and Rig—at least for Bobby it would be appealing in
the fall and winter, but summers in southern Florida sucked.<br />
<br />
<i>It wasn’t only the town’s charm that appealed to them</i>,
Bobby thought with a wry grin, but also the fact that the obscure beach
was a favorite among the local gay men. Still. He pulled his unruly
curls back into a small ponytail and secured it with a band.<br />
<br />
“You sit out here and bake,” Bobby said. He grabbed his towel,
draped it around his neck, and heaved himself out of the lounge chair
and winced when the hot sand burned the bottom of his feet. “Christ, I
hate this shit,” he growled and stepped into his flip-flops. “Tell me
again why I let you talk me into this ridiculous vacation?”<br />
<br />
“Because you love me and knew I wanted to come.” Rig grinned and
scooped up a bottle of suntan oil and poured a generous amount on his
chest and stomach.<br />
<br />
Bobby glared at him, but Rig ignored the irritated look as he
slicked up his torso and hummed happily. Once again Bobby felt compelled
to slap the damn smiling man, but he curled his hand into fists and
stomped off without a word.<br />
<br />
“You’re going to miss the show,” Rig reminded him again.<br />
<br />
“And you’re turning into one of those pervy dirty old men, Rig,” he said pointedly.<br />
<br />
“I’ve always been a pervy old man. What’s your point?”<br />
<br />
Bobby cursed and shook his head at Rig’s boisterous laughter as
he struggled in the soft, shifting sand. “I’m going to go explore.” In
the shade. “I’ll be back,” he tossed over his shoulder and headed for
the tree line.<br />
<br />
The area just off the beach was really more bush and scruff than
what he’d call a forest, but there were a few pines, palms, and some
kind of weeping trees with long strands of moss hanging from them. A
clearly defined pathway had been tromped down among the bush, the sand
and dirt well packed, making it easier for him to walk. The temperature
was still ungodly hot, but the shade did offer a slight measure of
relief.<br />
<br />
The farther Bobby made his way along the path, the more irritated
he became. Discarded condom wrappers, empty beer cans, and other trash
littered the ground, proof the area was a popular spot. He was all for a
hookup, a random fuck in the woods, but Christ, did they have to be
such pigs? He sat heavily on a fallen tree, huffed out a frustrated
breath, and wiped at his face. He kicked angrily at an empty beer bottle
and scowled at it as if it were the reason for his ill mood. It
shattered against a rock. Everything seemed to be irritating him these
days.<br />
<br />
Born Robert Alcott, Bobby had been a headstrong kid, a leader.
Hell, he’d taken charge of his kindergarten class. Throughout his life,
he’d always been in control. He thrived on being in charge, was good at
ruling others, knowing what they needed, and providing it. Being a Dom
was so ingrained in his genetic makeup that without purpose, someone to
control, care for, love, he would go insane. Now Folsom was gone. The
club he’d opened decades ago, passed on to younger, more innovative
minds and in the very reliable hands of Blake and Ty. Bobby’s whole life
had revolved around the place. It’s where he met Rig, and he did love
the man without question, but Rig, being an aggressive Dom himself,
didn’t need Bobby like a submissive did. Bobby needed purpose, dammit!
This life of vacations, retirement, boring days…. He was only fifty, for
fuck sakes, not eighty.<br />
<br />
Bobby closed his eyes and took deep calming breaths. He listened
to the lulling sound of the gulf waves in the distance, the gull’s cry,
but his gut still churned, pulse a little too quick from his troubled
thoughts continued. He couldn’t keep hanging out at Folsom, at least not
in the capacity he had been. What he needed, what both he and Rig
needed, was a sub. Not just a boy to play with for the night, one who
might be entertaining—because those were a dime a dozen. No, what he
needed to focus on was finding the third that would make him and Rig
complete.<br />
<br />
As the truth of it settled down on him, Bobby opened his eyes and
stared at the foliage overhead as it swayed gently, the lush green
highlighted by the pale-blue sky. In the distance, he could see the
darker blue of the water. A serene feeling washed over him as he looked
out over the beautiful landscape. He knew what he had to do. As soon as
they returned to New York, he and Rig would step up their search for the
perfect man to complete them.<br />
<br />
After carefully picking up the pieces of glass and wrapping them
in his towel, Bobby continued to follow the path. As he stepped past a
high wall of brush, the landscape opened up, and to his left, a set of
white, wooden stairs led up a hill to a small white bungalow with bright
blue shutters. Anyone standing behind the large picture window would
have a stunning view of the gulf.<br />
<br />
Movement near a small orange tree grabbed Bobby’s attention. A
man on his knees, dressed in a white tank top and blue shorts, examined
the orange he held in his hand briefly before placing it in a basket and
reaching for another. Squinting from the glare of the bright sun, Bobby
reluctantly left the shade of the trees and tromped up the steps. Might
as well do the neighborly thing and say hello.<br />
<br />
Closer now, Bobby got a good look at the younger man. Even in a
kneeling position, Bobby could tell he was slight, but the muscles of
his thighs and arms, while lean, were well defined. He appeared to be in
his early twenties. His hair was a dark chestnut brown, cut short, his
jaw clean-shaven, and his skin was a deep olive tone. Bobby couldn’t
quite make out the color of his eyes, but they were dark, possibly
brown, although it was hard to tell with the dark circles beneath them.
In profile he had a long, narrow nose, and his lips were full, kissable.
He was absolutely gorgeous. A warm spark of attraction and longing
warmed Bobby’s groin. He pushed down his desire and did his best to keep
it in check, despite the ripple of envy that settled in his gut, as he
took the last couple of steps towards the man. Some lucky son of a bitch
had already claimed this beautiful boy, as evidenced by the thin
leather collar around his neck.<br />
<br />
“Hi,” Bobby said cheerfully and raised his hand to wave. “I’m staying—”<br />
<br />
“Oh,” the man yelped when he noticed Bobby. His brown eyes—he had
been right, melted chocolate brown, in fact—went wide with shock as he
fell back on his hands and scrambled away, knocking over his basket and
sending the oranges scattering.<br />
<br />
There was more than fear in those brown orbs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean
to startle you,” he said regretfully and reached out to help the man to
his feet.<br />
<br />
The stranger ignored Bobby’s offered hand, rolled to his feet,
and took off in a dead run to the house, slamming the door behind him.<br />
<br />
Bobby stood there stunned long after the man had disappeared
inside. “What the fuck?” he muttered. His first instinct was to follow
the man, to beat on the door and demand to know what the hell was going
on. There was something about the situation that nagged him, there was
way too much sadness in him for someone so young—and the irrational
fear. Bobby wondered if the man’s Dom was possibly abusing him. Yet, he
hadn’t seen a single bruise, and Bobby was the trespasser.<br />
<br />
He continued to stare at the house, debating what he should do.
After a long drawn-out moment, Bobby sighed, resigned. He gathered up
the oranges, placing them back into the basket, and set it next to the
front door. He had the sneaking suspicion that he was being watched, but
when he looked toward the window, no one was there.<br />
<br />
He and Rig would be in town for another week. He’d make a point
to stop by, keep his eyes open, and then decide what, if anything, he
should do about the sad brown-eyed man.</div>
SJD Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065121528177528955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-26247098182912776462013-05-20T03:46:00.004-07:002013-05-20T03:46:42.800-07:00New Cover for Tuck & Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJ34TVKVu0lVWTuAWGqEflv3KpyQXH1ijJiAyDOsxEU3LV0id5MoBXniEvnkBE-ESf36tQg0GRi-qNxIGo3NfpsV9UCms0scGl1QHCA8w1BAWSH9Ec1NeENWvGINgLjUgGLRW8LERhl08/s1600/TuckandCoverORIG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJ34TVKVu0lVWTuAWGqEflv3KpyQXH1ijJiAyDOsxEU3LV0id5MoBXniEvnkBE-ESf36tQg0GRi-qNxIGo3NfpsV9UCms0scGl1QHCA8w1BAWSH9Ec1NeENWvGINgLjUgGLRW8LERhl08/s400/TuckandCoverORIG.jpg" width="266" /> </a></div>
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Coming to Dreamspinner Press June 5th 2013</div>
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<div class="pDescr">
<strong><em>2nd Edition </em></strong> <br /><strong><em>Battle Buddy: </em></strong> <br /><br />
At nineteen, Shane Tucker joins the army. Tucker is gay but not ready
to be open about it, and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell seems like a convenient
way to avoid dealing with his sexuality. <br /><br /> The army suits Tucker;
he does well from the beginning. Then, during boot camp, he’s assigned a
“battle buddy,” Owen Bradford. Owen is a walking, talking wet dream
with no concept of personal space. Tucker only survives the constant
temptation by venting to his diary. <br /><br /> Two years later, Tucker—now
in the Army Ranger program—is paired up with Owen once again. Getting
through training while ignoring the sexual tension between him and his
battle buddy might be the biggest test of Tucker’s military career. <br /><br /> <strong><em>Tuck & Cover</em></strong> <br /><br />
You may have read Tuck’s diary entries, but they don’t tell the whole
story. Tuck will argue the point, but he definitely got a few details
wrong—not that I blame him. He was, if you remember, a little sexually
frustrated at the time. He probably wasn’t thinking straight. I’ll never
get tired of teasing him about that. Anyway, here’s what really
happened. <br /><br /> Rangers lead the way! – Owen <br /><br /> <em>First Editions published by Silver Publishing, March 2012 (Battle Buddy) and November 2012 (Tuck & Cover)</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3899" target="_blank"> CHECK IT OUT HERE </a></em></div>
</div>
<br />SJD Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065121528177528955noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-960721626738955972013-05-13T05:23:00.003-07:002013-05-13T05:23:49.206-07:00Cover love for TAG TEAM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d_ygbAIYNPchWrvmp7MrCOKObQOwK1J_FVxFzXn9GEoSo_uXxK0d9cGxx5yJeT30CwSWNIXDbx6Pb0-bJxnAcUEKRa82ML2vTKBWLrlb_FpdkSjACR4BYaxdPtFsXsmjJ2Uqk-HTl71h/s1600/TagTeamORIG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d_ygbAIYNPchWrvmp7MrCOKObQOwK1J_FVxFzXn9GEoSo_uXxK0d9cGxx5yJeT30CwSWNIXDbx6Pb0-bJxnAcUEKRa82ML2vTKBWLrlb_FpdkSjACR4BYaxdPtFsXsmjJ2Uqk-HTl71h/s640/TagTeamORIG.jpg" width="426" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Model Seth Knight, created by Paul Richmond </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Coming to Dreamspinner Press Fall 2013</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-57782411466727663822013-05-04T05:24:00.001-07:002013-05-04T05:24:48.349-07:00PUP is April's best cover at Joyful Jay<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
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</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6ybyLX8Y5msRpkiaCTeIJtYLU7PBdrYdY3pU_hXeW_FFPq85cK6xCfLtwQj1TQ-VGUl-OEk_iFOpoi8pRKQApfrR0WHuj66RhrATdycV_52QZDOLliL9SWCD4u6V9VbRLpCwWwQ_URo/s1600/Pup5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6ybyLX8Y5msRpkiaCTeIJtYLU7PBdrYdY3pU_hXeW_FFPq85cK6xCfLtwQj1TQ-VGUl-OEk_iFOpoi8pRKQApfrR0WHuj66RhrATdycV_52QZDOLliL9SWCD4u6V9VbRLpCwWwQ_URo/s400/Pup5.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Joyful Jay has named PUP her favorite cover for the month of April. She says....</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Hello everyone! Here are some of our favorite covers from April. This
month we reviewed 60 books and here are the covers we loved the most
from that group.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And I bet you can guess my favorite one, right? Considering I slobbered all over it in both <a href="http://joyfullyjay.com/2013/04/review-pup-by-sjd-peterson.html" title="Review: PUP by SJD Peterson">my review</a>, and <a href="http://joyfullyjay.com/2013/04/interview-pup-book-covers-guards-of-folsom-and-cover-art-reveal-with-sjd-peterson.html" title="Interview: PUP, Book Covers, Guards of Folsom (and Cover Art Reveal!) with SJD Peterson">my interview</a> with author SJD Peterson. So yes, PUP was my top pick this month, but there were lots of other beauties as well." </span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You can check out all the beautiful covers for the month of April <a href="http://joyfullyjay.com/2013/05/april-favorite-covers.html" target="_blank">HERE</a></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Congrats to PUP and his amazing cover artist Paul Richmond </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-66022367801552283842013-04-20T03:15:00.001-07:002013-04-20T03:15:46.402-07:005 strawberry dipped chocolates and a indulgent award for PUP<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIFyRevPokSD4ILOx25sIkGZ28IgnXKeZDufyzadJkZY9DpG2bttdxpjpBt8juLxhwtiWK6BltX0AUwWVVHkYDGDpm1ecgZmLRryLKPw1Pd_Cf4A2I0zR8rTkSW6LAxrBUcql8TNSQ4do/s1600/Pup5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIFyRevPokSD4ILOx25sIkGZ28IgnXKeZDufyzadJkZY9DpG2bttdxpjpBt8juLxhwtiWK6BltX0AUwWVVHkYDGDpm1ecgZmLRryLKPw1Pd_Cf4A2I0zR8rTkSW6LAxrBUcql8TNSQ4do/s400/Pup5.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
This is a well written intense story whose characters will stay with you
long after you finish the book. If you like BDSM and seeing strong men
fall in love then Pup needs to be added to your library. I am excited to
see where this series goes next...will Bobby and Rig find their perfect
third or we will meet a new Dom and sub? All I know is that where ever
Jo takes us I am so going to be there!<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>BUY LINK</b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3756" target="_blank">Dreamspinner</a></b><br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEMHBRnOSM2Y_2XiAzd8XFi-v1LOkOzWUc2WNRbNEktbpb_onmMLREDP_J9oIN4s585ELElOo9DQKrZjxGEEKUkMDmEh4lS8nK54kIWZKBFgIVRU9Ty4SO7K-aFtxtzuDHCZHcgd5CF0/s1600/logo+chocolate+bar.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEMHBRnOSM2Y_2XiAzd8XFi-v1LOkOzWUc2WNRbNEktbpb_onmMLREDP_J9oIN4s585ELElOo9DQKrZjxGEEKUkMDmEh4lS8nK54kIWZKBFgIVRU9Ty4SO7K-aFtxtzuDHCZHcgd5CF0/s1600/logo+chocolate+bar.png" /></a></div>
<b>RATING: 5 Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries
This book was given to us by Dreamspinner Press. Many thanks.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Read the rest of the review <a href="http://networkedblogs.com/KpYkp" target="_blank">HERE</a> </b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-51656121845275685362013-03-29T17:05:00.004-07:002013-03-29T17:05:49.621-07:005 Hearts for Plan B<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/uploads/heartfire.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/uploads/heartfire.gif" /></a></div>
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<h1 class="title">
SJD Peterson – Plan B</h1>
<br />
<b>Author: </b>SJD Peterson<br />
<b>Reviewed by: </b>Nancy<b> </b><br />
<b>Publisher: </b>Dreamspinner Press<br />
<b>Genre: </b>M/M Romance<br />
<b>ISBN 13:</b> 9781623803384<br />
<br />
<strong class="rating">Rating:</strong> <img alt="★" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/plugins/xavins-review-ratings/hearts/star.png" title="5/5" /><img alt="★" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/plugins/xavins-review-ratings/hearts/star.png" title="5/5" /><img alt="★" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/plugins/xavins-review-ratings/hearts/star.png" title="5/5" /><img alt="★" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/plugins/xavins-review-ratings/hearts/star.png" title="5/5" /><img alt="★" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/plugins/xavins-review-ratings/hearts/star.png" title="5/5" /> <br />
<a href="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/plan-b.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="plan b" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-19070" height="150" src="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/plan-b-e1364086617440.jpg" width="99" /></a>"Both men are young, selfish, and wildly immature at times. They make
decisions hastily which creates a lot of unnecessary turmoil in their
relationship, but what can you expect from 21-year-old college students?
Since this story was told from Danny’s perspective, I could feel his
emotions keenly, reminding me of the confusion and chaos of my own
young life. I loved Danny and Lance, Bo and his girlfriend, Katie, and
all the fully developed colorful supporting characters. The tense,
heartbreaking and sad moments made the ending so sweet and satisfying.
This story was a joy to read."<br />
<br />
Read the full review <a href="http://heartsonfirereviews.com/?p=19105" target="_blank">HERE </a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-2097660930655402702013-03-07T05:53:00.003-08:002013-03-07T05:53:23.934-08:00Guilty Indulgence award for Plan B<h2 class="date-header">
<span></span></h2>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6707662797843792215" name="5586605756700517958"></a>
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
Plan B by SJD Peterson
</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSc_z6T_30onjvqv0hgq8fLijkCAun_b_pUrgk6yQhtiu9IC4BfTAQD8Pwgc-7XcfJ1cdIOEuG3hBKPN2qXqz3Gnn-emeEdUdPGne7_6oenGgMCe1X4owHlru96Vi63mF94ftNebCtMEI/s1600/17156198.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSc_z6T_30onjvqv0hgq8fLijkCAun_b_pUrgk6yQhtiu9IC4BfTAQD8Pwgc-7XcfJ1cdIOEuG3hBKPN2qXqz3Gnn-emeEdUdPGne7_6oenGgMCe1X4owHlru96Vi63mF94ftNebCtMEI/s320/17156198.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<b>Plan B, SJD Peterson, Dreamspinner Press</b><br />
<i>Danny Marshal has always lived his life out loud, but his androgynous
appearance is only a small part of who he is. One night at a frat
party, Danny meets Lance Lenard, football jock and apparent straight
guy. Lance is shocked when he's immediately attracted to Danny's
feminine side. Danny is happy to be the subject of Lance's first
man-on-man experiment—until Lance begins to struggle with the fact that
despite his appearance, Danny is indeed a man.<br />Lance's whole life has
been focused on his goal of playing in the NFL, and he knows those
dreams will be smashed if anyone finds out about his little secret.
Although Lance has come to hunger for Danny's touch, he's not willing to
give Danny what he's grown to crave: a boyfriend who's proud to love
him for every flamboyant and snarky cell in his body.</i><div>
<i>Life sends Danny and Lance in different directions, each of them
focused on his respective Plan A. But the best-laid plans of mice and
men often go awry.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<i><br /></i><br />
<b>REVIEW</b><br />
Have you ever read a book and wanted a character to be real just so you
could be friends with them? Danny is that character for me. I LOVED
everything about him...from his quirky hair to his fabulous boots! He
comes off as cocky and self assured, which for the most part he is, but
he also has his insecurities that make him real and likeable and the
kind of person you want in your life.<br />
<br />
This is a well written, emotional story with engaging characters that
will pull you in before you realize it. You will agonize and root for
these two and experience all of the angst and drama along with them.
This story will reaffirm that falling in love isn't easy and that
sometimes Plan B is the better option.<br />
<br />
It's hard to believe that I read my first book by this author only a
few months ago and she has moved to the top of my must read list.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://guiltyindulgencebookclub.blogspot.com/2013/02/plan-b-by-sjd-peterson.html" target="_blank">READ THE FULL REVIEW HERE</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEMHBRnOSM2Y_2XiAzd8XFi-v1LOkOzWUc2WNRbNEktbpb_onmMLREDP_J9oIN4s585ELElOo9DQKrZjxGEEKUkMDmEh4lS8nK54kIWZKBFgIVRU9Ty4SO7K-aFtxtzuDHCZHcgd5CF0/s1600/logo+chocolate+bar.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEMHBRnOSM2Y_2XiAzd8XFi-v1LOkOzWUc2WNRbNEktbpb_onmMLREDP_J9oIN4s585ELElOo9DQKrZjxGEEKUkMDmEh4lS8nK54kIWZKBFgIVRU9Ty4SO7K-aFtxtzuDHCZHcgd5CF0/s1600/logo+chocolate+bar.png" /></a></div>
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RATING: 5 Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-70861896644361607912013-01-27T06:20:00.000-08:002013-01-27T06:20:13.277-08:00Ty's Obsession awarded Best BDSM by MM RomanceI can't thank those who nominated me and voted for me enough. I am in
complete shock (in a very good way) to have Ty win Best BDSM book and
2nd place in Best Cowboy/Western Thank you so much to the M/M Romance
group and to those who voted. I am truly honored and humbled. Congrats
to all the nominees and Winners! <br />
<br />
<div class="ttl" style="padding-bottom: 5px; text-align: center;">
<i> </i><img alt="Ty's Obsession by SJD Peterson eBook" border="0" height="400" src="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/TysObsessionLG.jpg" title=" Ty's Obsession by SJD Peterson eBook " width="266" /></div>
<div class="ttl" style="padding-bottom: 5px;">
<i>Description:</i></div>
<b><i>Sequel to Quinn’s Need</i></b><br />
<b><i>Whispering Pines Ranch: Book Three</i></b><br />
<br />
Ty Callahan knew Quinn Taylor was special the moment he first laid
eyes on him. When the angry and heartbroken cowboy finally opens up, Ty
sees the real man inside, and for the first time in years, Ty is ready
to love again. There’s only one problem: Lorcan James. Although Lorcan
has owned a piece of Quinn’s heart for some time, Ty is convinced he is
the better man for Quinn and will stop at nothing to prove it.<br />
<br />
Then Blake Henderson, a strong, dominant cowboy, strolls confidently
into Ty’s life, offering an outlet for Ty’s anger, a chance to heal, and
an option for his torn affections. Can Ty look beyond his feelings of
rage and betrayal and find true peace, or will his obsession destroy
them all?<br />
Available from Dreamspinner Press <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2747&cPath=55_424" target="_blank">HERE </a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-3328817267466230842012-12-17T04:36:00.000-08:002012-12-17T04:44:56.886-08:00Riveted a free Ty & Blake short story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUy5z2w3mGbPK3Qicz_WMNBMjU_yGQ328w7QbfH6dSiiEoWUJEFgTwHqRYbgeIOpyuk5VvDpA9p4oYWOfHIm5arz7uECctlUB_rAcRcrgPi7Nww1KHsWeZ2034sO_uRgcteBhyphenhyphenUb8Emjp/s1600/RIVETED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUy5z2w3mGbPK3Qicz_WMNBMjU_yGQ328w7QbfH6dSiiEoWUJEFgTwHqRYbgeIOpyuk5VvDpA9p4oYWOfHIm5arz7uECctlUB_rAcRcrgPi7Nww1KHsWeZ2034sO_uRgcteBhyphenhyphenUb8Emjp/s400/RIVETED.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="text-decoration: none;">Riveted</span></b></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="text-decoration: none;">A
Whispering Pines Ranch Short</span></b></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">S.J.D.
Peterson </span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“When
trust is gone, a man no longer believes in humanity.” ~Ty Callahan~</i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6707662797843792215" name="freeText12480531034645688898"></a>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Ty left Pegasus for the big city, he knew he was falling for Blake,
but still wasn't sure if he could trust him. And Blake wasn't sure he
was ready to be vulnerable enough to take on another boy. Since
moving to the Big City, Blake and Ty have learned how to live with
each other, but are they ready to let go of their pasts and take the
next steps not only in the playroom, but also in life? </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">SJD
Peterson </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Riveted</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">©
2012, SJD Peterson </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">sjdpeterson@gmail.com
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED. Thank you for reading this free short story. This book
may be reproduced, copied, and distributed solely for non-commercial
purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">This
is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are
fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dedication</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For
all those who demanded Ty get his Happily Ever After</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This book can also be downloaded in PDF form</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16112878-riveted" target="_blank">HERE</a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">if y<span style="font-size: small;">ou wo<span style="font-size: small;">uld like a <span style="font-size: small;">pdf. copy s<span style="font-size: small;">ent <span style="font-size: small;">directly to you, please email me at </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">sjdpterson@gmail.c<span style="font-size: small;">om</span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter
One</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
older man sitting on the other side of the bar with a predatory gaze
wandering down his body was nothing new. Tyler Callahan, better known
as Ty, had seen that same look in many eyes as he stood behind the
bar, slinging suds and hearing a variety of propositions. He’d
heard them all, everything from the simplistic—wanna fuck?—all
the way up to ridiculous descriptions of how they would have him on
his knees, begging to breathe. That one had him snickering and
blowing nothing more than his tip. While Ty was flattered and more
than a little appreciative of the tips shoved in his pants, shirt,
and tip jar, not a single one of them even so much as tempted him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This
newest man, while attractive with his salt and pepper hair, dark
short-trimmed beard, muscular body, and an air of authority swirling
around him, was no different.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">C’mon,
boy. I can make all your naughty dreams come true.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
cringed hearing the word “boy” spoken from this man but plastered
a smile on his face and set the beer the stranger had ordered down in
front of him. “I’m not your boy and I seriously doubt you could
handle my dreams,” he responded confidently. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
started to step back but the man grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip,
not allowing him to move. “Oh trust me, no matter how kinky,
dangerous, or bizarre, I’ll leave you satisfied like no one else
ever could.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take
your hand off what’s mine and you might survive to make someone
else’s dreams come true.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
looked up to see Blake standing behind the large man, his hands
resting on the stranger’s shoulders. The grip on Ty’s forearm
remained as the stranger leisurely ran his gaze down Ty’s form
again then calmly turned his head back to meet Blake’s gaze. “This
is a private conversation. I don’t see any mark of ownership.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
going to ask you one more time to take your hand off what is mine,
the next time I won’t be quite so nice about it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
shudder went through Ty. He could easily shove off the hand on his
arm, but there was something about Blake, his quiet confidence,
possessiveness, and strength that caused Ty to hesitate and let his
lover deal with it. It warmed not only his heart to see Blake like
this, but also his groin. A one-two punch of sexy.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the year that Ty had been working at Folsom, he’d seen Blake in
this same situation numerous times, and his record was perfect.
Either the aggressive Dom found himself on his ass on the concrete
sidewalk outside the club, or they were smart and followed Blake’s
request. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
held his breath for the tense moment the stranger and Blake continued
to stare and size each other up. He let it out when he felt the hand
on his forearm fall away. Smart man.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He’s
not collared, and I assumed he was available. I meant no disrespect.”
The man held out his hand to Blake. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
accepted the offered hand, shook it, but did not release it. “You’re
new here so I’ll forgive your disrespect this time. In this club
you do not put your hands on a sub without his or his Dom’s
permission.” Blake’s voice was hard and brooked no argument. He
then released the man’s hand and took the stool next to him rather
than his usual stool at the end of the bar. His man was definitely
putting his ownership on full display.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Could
I convince </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>my</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
boy to get me a bottle of water?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fuck,
Blake was hot when he got all badass Dom, then turned loving eyes on
him. Another shudder shook Ty to his core. “You can convince me to
do anything, sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
pulled a bottle from the cooler, opened it, and set it down in front
of Blake. He wanted to lean across the bar and kiss him senseless but
he knew better. When they were in the club, Blake called the shots.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
studied the water bottle for a moment, and then looked up at Ty, a
brilliant smile on his handsome face. “Perhaps I should have
ordered champagne instead.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
knew exactly what that self-satisfied smile on his lover’s face
meant.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
had hated the fact that Ty had gone to work at the club, but Ty
refused to be a kept man and he simply wouldn’t have stayed with
Blake if he couldn’t support himself. The amount he made was
pennies compared to Blake’s wealth, but it wasn’t about the money
so much as his peace of mind. Maybe it was his need for an out just
in case things didn’t work out, or perhaps even his pride. Much to
Blake’s frustration, he hadn’t been able to change Ty’s mind,
so instead of continuing an impossible-to-win argument, Blake had
been in negotiations with the owners to buy the club. He and Blake
had had more than a few heated words over it, but in the end, Ty
understood Blake’s almost obsessive need to protect, given what had
happened to Eli. If he was completely honest with himself, he liked
it. For the first time in his life, someone actually cared enough to
want him around long term. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
take it your meeting was a success then, sir?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
is was, boy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Will
I now be sleeping with the boss, sir?” Ty asked teasingly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
stood, leaned over the bar, grabbed the collar of Ty’s T-shirt in
his fist, and pulled him close, their lips practically touching.
“That’s later. For now I’ll settle for a kiss.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Heat
infused Ty, the intensity increasing when Blake smashed their mouths
together, demanding entrance. Ty gave himself over to the possessive
kiss. He had no doubt this was for the benefit of the stranger who
had dared touch what Blake deemed as his than for Ty’s. Whatever
the reason, Ty gave up complete control, letting Blake explore his
mouth until he had his fill and left Ty breathless and hard as nails
when it ended. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
sat back on his stool and gave the man next to him a wide, cocksure
smile.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
older man nodded. “Now he does look truly owned.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake’s
smile grew impossibly wider. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You must be Blake
Henderson.” The man held out his hand again. “I do believe you’re
the reason I’m here. I’m Bobby’s friend and
how-to-hide-all-that-money advisor, Tackett Austin.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
accepted the hand and shook it again, this time without the
challenging glare in his eyes. “Right, right, Bobby has told me a
lot of good things about you. Nice to finally meet you.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well,
hopefully that will help make up for my less-than-stellar first
impression.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
a little possessive of my boy,” Blake said unapologetically. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
you should be. You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Henderson, he’s quite
lovely. May I?” Tackett asked, indicating his intentions with a nod
of his head towards Ty.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
I am,” Blake said confidently. “Be my guest.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tackett
held out his hand. “Tackett Austin.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
accepted the hand and shook it. “Ty Callahan.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nice
to meet you, Ty.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Likewise,
sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
winked at Ty and then turned his attentions to Tackett. The two of
them began discussing the sale of Folsom; Ty took the opportunity to
check on his other customers and service the new ones who were
beginning to stream in. Friday nights were always crazy busy, the
club beginning to fill up shortly after five when the work day ended
and completely full by nine.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
had just handed out a couple of bottles of water to one of the
regular subs when he looked up and spotted Micah, another bartender
he often worked with, stepping up behind the bar. That took Ty back.
Micah wasn’t on the schedule; Ty’d checked and didn’t expect
Caleb, his suds-slinging buddy for the night, until seven.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey,
Micah. Did you forget what day of the week it was again?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
was a beautiful man, thick dark curls and the palest baby-blues eyes
Ty had ever seen. He had started working at the club right around the
same time Ty had, coming from another club called the Whip. During
the first two weeks Micah had shown up three times on his day off,
he’d been so used to working that schedule at the other club that
it had taken him awhile to get used to the new one. Ty still loved
teasing him about it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ha
ha ha. Bitch, please.” Micah scoffed. “Your Dom was doing the
begging for a change.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
looked back over his shoulder toward Blake, who was still chatting
with Tackett. “I take back what I said about you,” Ty said,
unfazed. “If you got Blake to beg then you’re a better man than I
am.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
made Micah laugh. “Yeah, he begged me to cover your shift tonight.
You know he would only beg for you, you smug bastard.” Micah froze,
eyes going wide. “Oh sweet, Jesus. Now there is someone I’d love
to beg for.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
followed Micah’s gaze. It was directed toward where Blake sat. “You
mean, Tackett?” he asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tackett,”
Micah echoed. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He’s
like twice your age,” Ty said incredulously.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spank
me, daddy!”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
nudged him with an elbow. “It’s official. You’re even more
perverted than I am.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
shrugged. “I can live with that. So introduce me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
will if you tell me why Blake has you covering my shift? What’s he
up to?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don’t
know but I’ll make something up if I have to.” Micah never took
his gaze from Tackett. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lot
of help you are. C’mon.” Ty huffed and handed Micah a towel.
“Here, sop up the drool from your chin.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
grabbed the towel from him, tossed it aside, and shoved Ty toward the
end of the bar where the two men sat.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pushy
bastard,” Ty grumbled. “You sure you don’t have any dominant
tendencies?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why
don’t you bend over and find out.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
just shook his head at Micah’s antics. Once he reached the bar
where Tackett and Blake sat, he stopped and waited for Blake to
address him. He could feel Micah literally vibrating behind him. Ty
had seen many men come and go, but he’d never seen his friend so
affected before. Ty had actually begun to suspect that Micah wasn’t
really into the scene at all. Micah knew all the proper ways to
address the Doms with respect, eyes lowered, flirting and teasing
them, but Ty had never actually seen Micah go any further than that.
As far as he knew, Micah wasn’t seeing anyone so maybe he was just
extremely picky. Tackett certainly was a step above most men in the
looks department.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
met Ty’s gaze and waggled his brows. “Hey, you sexy beast! Got
any plans for the night?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well,
sir, I’m not really sure. Apparently, my new boss has just given me
the night off.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
tugged on the back of his shirt.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sounds
like you owe your boss a really big thank you,” Blake said, a sly
grin.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tackett
chuckled, and Ty bit his lip to keep from joining him. “Do you have
any suggestions for a suitable ‘thank you’ gift I could give
him?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah’s
tugging grew in strength and speed.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
do,” Blake said confidently. “But I think we should discuss this
in private. It’s a very, very special kind of gift.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
hungry look in Blake’s gaze sent a tingling sensation racing down
Ty’s spine and heat pooling in his groin. “Then it’s a good
thing I’m off work so we can privately </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>discuss</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
this gift.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
could you call and ask Thomas to bring the car around?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
club employed a driver and provided a black sedan for taking home
patrons unable to drive either because they were too drunk or, more
often, due to exhaustion and sedation. But he and Blake never used
the car. Blake didn’t drink and while they occasionally played at
the club, his lover preferred their own home. Ty found it odd that
Blake was asking for the car, but he didn’t comment on it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
didn’t respond either, just continued to stare at Tackett and kept
up his insistent, irritating tugging.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah,”
Blake said louder, making Micah jump and the hand on Ty’s shirt
halt.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What?”
Micah snapped and then turned red when he realized how he’d
responded to Blake. He glanced quickly between Tackett, Blake, and
Ty, the color in his cheeks deepening when he realized he’d been
standing there, zoned out with his mouth gaping.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sorry,
sir,” Micah said, lowering his eyes and releasing Ty’s T-shirt.
“What was it you asked?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
barely contained his laughter when he once again asked Micah to call
for the car. Micah gave Ty a panicked look before answering, “Yes,
sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
took pity on him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mr.
Austin, sir. This is Micah Slayde,” Ty said, pointing a thumb
toward Micah. “He’ll be replacing me as your server. Just let him
know if you need anything.” Ty arched a brow at Micah. “I’m
sure he’ll be more than happy to provide it for you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Micah
nodded vigorously. “Anything, sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank
you, Micah. I’ll keep that in mind.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After
Micah finally pried his gaze from the older Dom and went to call for
the car, Ty and Blake said their good-byes to Tackett and headed to
grab their coats. When they stepped out of the club, a bitterly cold
wind caused Ty to shiver. He was never going to get used to the
winters in New York. The snow was pretty in pictures or looking out
at it from inside a warm home, but being out in it was brutal on a
southern boy. Blake tightened the arm he had around him, pulled him
close and held him tight and they hurried to the waiting car.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank
God the heat was already blasting from the vents. Ty brushed the snow
from his coat and shook it from his hair. “Jesus, it’s cold. I’m
not sure I’ll ever get used to this.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
love winter,” Blake responded, wiping the snow from his own coat.
“Or rather, I love getting to warm you up. C’mere.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
climbed onto Blake’s lap, straddling his thighs. “Are we going to
discuss that special gift now, sir?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
grabbed Ty’s hips and pulled him forward, causing Ty to moan when
their groins came in contact. “I’m thinking talk is overrated,
don’t you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mmm
hmm.” Ty gripped the back of the seat, one hand on each side of
Blake’s head, and began to rock his hip, cock swelling. “I’m
definitely more of the hands-on kind of guy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
licked and nibbled at Ty’s bottom lip, teasing, “And I’m
definitely better at showing rather than telling.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
continued to grind against the growing bulge in Blake’s slacks as
the kiss deepened, groaning when Blake found his erection, cupping it
in his hand and squeezing.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh
yeah, much better at hands on,” Blake murmured against his lips.
“Lean back.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
sat back and Blake popped the button on Ty’s jeans and eased down
the zipper. Ty arched his back, pushing hard into the hand Blake
wrapped around his erection.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You’re
so hard for me,” Blake murmured, his hand speeding up, stroking
Ty’s cock in a firm grip.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dick
throbbing with need, a tingling sensation tickling at the base of his
spine, Ty thrust into that tight grip. God, he was so close already.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just
as the car came to a stop, so did the hand on his prick and then
Blake was wrapping a band of leather around the base, pulling it
tight and snapping it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dammit,”
Ty grumbled. “I should have known I wouldn’t get to come so
easily.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
love it.” Blake’s finger swiped across the head of Ty’s cock,
spreading the liquid seeping from the slit before bringing it to him
mouth and sucking the digit into his mouth. “And so do I.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
whimpered when Blake tucked his erection back into his jeans and
carefully zipped and buttoned them. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My
poor denied boy,” Blake consoled, the smug look on his face ruining
the effect. Ty huffed, causing Blake to chuckle. Blake then opened
the door. “I promise to make it worth your while.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Excited
to see what his lover had in store for him, Ty scrambled off Blake’s
lap and stepped out of the car. He groaned when he heard Blake behind
him say, “If you’re a very good boy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s1600/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s400/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter Two</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
stopped with his hand on the doorknob, head cocked as if he were
listening to a noise from within. “You may want to keep your coat
on for a bit.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
stopped with his coat halfway down his arms. “Why? Didn’t you pay
the heating bill?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With
his free hand, Blake reached out and stroked the prominent bulge in
Ty’s jeans. “We have company.” With that, Blake opened the
door.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
scent of basil, tomato, and warm yeast wafted out of the apartment,
and Ty quickly shrugged his coat back on, fumbling to button it up.
He’d recognize that scent anywhere. “Your mom?” he hissed.
Keeping his voice low, Ty grumbled, “You got me hard as fucking
nails and your mom is here?” Ty shook his head. “I say this with
the utmost respect, sir, you are one mean bastard.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
laughed, and then gave Ty a chaste kiss. “She isn’t staying.
C’mon.” He grabbed Ty’s hand and pulled him toward the kitchen.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
got a brief look at the dining room table as they passed: crystal and
china dinnerware, long white, tapered candles burning in silver
holders, and a matching bucket filled with ice and champagne. A
single red rose in a silver vase completed the romantic look, set for
two—thank God.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah,
there you two are. You’re just in time,” Martha said pleasantly
as she pulled a loaf of bread from the oven. “Everything is ready,
just need to slice the bread.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’ve
got it, mom,” Blake said appreciatively. He kissed her on the cheek
and took the potholders from her. “Everything looks and smells
great. Thank you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You’re
welcome,” she said sincerely, hugging her son briefly. “It’s a
special night, yes?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Very
special,” Blake assured her. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Martha
went up on tiptoes and whispered something in Blake’s ear, which
Blake replied to by a shake of his head. Ty’s gut rolled. He hated
surprises and he could tell by the look on their faces that they were
cooking up something—and it wasn’t just Martha’s famous
lasagna.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Martha
Drover was a petite, beautiful woman, and it was easy to see where
Blake got his good looks from. They both had the same deep brown
eyes, smooth olive skin, and dark hair, although Martha’s was now
streaked with silver. More importantly, she was just as beautiful on
the inside and had accepted Ty as the man in her son’s life from
day one. But while she had gone out of her way to make Ty feel a part
of their small family, he still held a part of himself back. Martha
seemed to know when he was taking a step back and would smile, pat
his hand, and ease off, but she tried harder the next time. The guilt
ate at him some days, but he just couldn’t silence the small voice
in his head that kept whispering this would all end one day. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty,
you look a little flushed, are you getting sick?” Martha hugged him
then reached up to feel his forehead.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
fine,” he assured her, wrapping his coat a little tighter. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Nope,
not sick. I’m in pain, my balls ache, and it’s your son's fault
with his obsession with cock rings, but really I’m fine. </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Good
seeing you and wow, it smells good in here. Lasagna?” he added,
trying to shift the attention away from his discomfort.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Martha
gave him a suspicious look, but nodded. “I know it’s your
favorite. Here let me have your coat. I’ll hang it up on my way
out.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
shot a panicked look toward Blake and clutched his coat. Thankfully,
Blake took pity on him—bastard should since it was his fault.
“Mom,” Blake said, coming up and wrapping his arm around Martha
and nudging her toward the front door. “I’ve got this. Thank you
for cooking for us. It’s the perfect way to celebrate.” Blake
helped her with her coat and gave her a hug. “I’ll call you
later, okay?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
heading to meet some friends for drinks. Call me tomorrow,” she
said with a wave of a hand. “I don’t expect to be home early.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hot
date?” Ty asked, waggling his brows.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hmm,
perhaps,” she demurred, but the smile that curled her lips was
telling. She reached to give Ty a hug; he accepted it but was careful
to keep his lower body away from her. He winced when he bent,
strangling his bound cock further. Before releasing him she tilted
her head and studied him carefully again. “You sure you’re
feeling okay?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He’s
fine, Mom,” Blake said easily. “You know I take good care of him,
and if he were sick I’d already have the chicken noodle soup
heating and him tucked in bed.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Martha
continued to stare at Ty. God he was going to kill Blake. He did his
best to give her a convincing smile. “I know,” she said, finally
releasing Ty and patting Blake on the arm as she pulled her gloves
from her coat pocket. “You’re very good to him. Speaking of
which, when are you two going to finally settle down and give me some
grandbabies?” She arched a brow at Ty.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
stopped him short and he coughed to cover up his shock. “Uh, don’t
look at me,” he sputtered. “I’ve got the wrong plumbing.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
laughed, shaking his head as he opened the door. “Good night, Mom.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Good
night, boys.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Martha
stopped just outside the door and started to say something, but Blake
interrupted her. “Love you, Mom. Call you tomorrow.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
the hell was that all about?” Ty demanded when Blake shut the door.
“Grandkids?” Ty’s gut rolled at the thought. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She’s
been on this kick ever since Ricky Martin adopted those twins,”
Blake said easily and helped Ty with his coat. “It will pass.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
better,” Ty grumbled. “I don’t want any kids. Does she realize
I’m a very needy man and don’t share my attention well?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
know, boy,” Blake said, his dark eyes sparkling, undeniably amused
at Ty’s rant. He pressed his palm to the front of Ty’s jeans.
“Very needy of my attentions.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
moaned and pushed into his hand. Then he remembered he was supposed
to be angry at Blake and narrowed his eyes. “I can’t believe you
got me all worked up and your mom, Jesus, your mom was here!”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
wrapped his arms around Ty, leaning in and nuzzling his neck. “Will
you forgive me if I promise to make it up to you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
don’t know,” he muttered, at the same time turning his head to
the side to give the man more room to work. “It was pretty mean.”
His complaint turned to a moan when Blake began nipping and licking
along Ty’s neck.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
snickered. “Okay I admit it was mean, but in my defense I thought
she’d be gone by the time we got home.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh,
please,” Ty said with a snort. “She takes every opportunity to
see you these days. I think she’s a little jealous of the amount of
time you spend with me at work.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speaking
of which,” Blake said excitedly, clapping his hands together and
rubbing them. “Let’s eat and pop the cork. We’re supposed to be
celebrating.” He leaned in and gave Ty one last kiss. “Then I’ll
do a little ass kissing when you're naked and on the bed,” he
promised, pulling Ty along to the kitchen.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once
they had set the lasagna and fresh bread on the table, Ty arched a
brow at him before taking his seat. “I’m going to hold you to
that, you know.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What, the ass
kissing?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
nodded and filled his plate.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh
trust me, I’m planning on it,” Blake said with a soft laugh, and
then pulled the cork from the champagne bottle, pouring them each a
glass. He handed one to Ty. “Here’s to new business ventures.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
clinked his glass against Blake’s. “Here’s to your promotion,
going from a guard at Folsom to warden.” He took a sip, the bubbles
tickling his nose.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Ty lowered his glass, Blake was staring at him with an odd expression
on his face. “What?” he asked, setting down his glass and picking
up his fork, Martha’s pasta calling his name.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
like it,” Blake said, nodding his head, looking thoughtful. He
filled his own plate, still nodding and seeming to get more excited.
“Actually, I think it’s a perfect name.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What,
Warden?” Ty asked absently. He shoveled in a large bite of lasagna,
chewing happily.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No.
Guards of Folsom.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And
we all know how you guard the place,” Ty drawled with a smirk.
“You’re right, it is perfect.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
fell silent for a moment, watching him before speaking again. His
voice was sincere when he said, “It’s not the club I guard, it’s
you. As should every Dom guard and protect their sub.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
sure showed your ownership of your sub with Mr. Austin tonight.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
don’t own you, Ty, and you’re much more than my sub,” Blake
said quietly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I’ve
never been worth owning.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
Fuck that was his truth. He’d been a throwaway his whole life. It
didn’t matter how hard he wished otherwise, it always ended. A lump
formed in Ty’s throat and he reached for his glass, wrinkling his
nose at the champagne. “I’m going to get a glass of water,” he
said, pushing away from the table. “Would you like some?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes,
please.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With
shaking hands Ty filled two glasses with ice and went to the sink. He
hated when his past came creeping up on him. No rhyme or reason, his
insecurities just seemed to attack whenever they had a mind to. He’d
had a great day, got the night off, a great dinner, Blake had gotten
his club, so why the hell was he shaking so goddamn badly inside and
out? It felt like he was suffocating.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
filled one glass and downed the water, which did little to help with
the lump in his throat and only managed to cause the churning in his
gut to intensify. He refilled it and the glass for Blake, setting
them aside. Shutting off the tap, Ty clutched the counter, took a
deep breath, and, closing his eyes, blew it out slowly. Tonight was
about celebrating Blake acquiring the club, not about him. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Live
in the moment</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">.
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Enjoy
what you have now</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">,
he reminded himself. The mantra was getting harder and harder to say
and even harder to believe. He’d been cast aside his whole life,
people always tired of him, and he should be used to it. But this
time, with Blake, Ty knew it was different, he wouldn’t only be
losing another home or a Dom, but his whole world.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Forcing
away those thoughts, Ty took one last deep breath and grabbed the
glasses of water. He plastered on a happy expression before heading
back to the dining room. Blake deserved this celebration.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Setting
one glass down next to his plate as he passed, he went and held the
other out for Blake. Blake stared up at him, those dark eyes
burrowing into him, looking past the fake smile and into Ty’s very
soul. Ty averted his gaze, clamping down on the tremor that
threatened, but it was too late, Blake had already seen the lie.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taking
the glass, Blake set it aside and pulled Ty onto his lap. Blake
pressed his hand against Ty’s cheek, thumb tracing his bottom lip.
“I hate these fake smiles,” he murmured. “What do I have to do
to win your trust?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
do—” Blake silenced him by pressing his thumb over Ty’s mouth.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do
you remember the first time I called you my boy?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Christ,
yes, he remembered it. It hadn’t come during a scene or because of
a chore well done, but during one those rare, special moments when
their passion turned to slow lovemaking rather than fucking. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>“My
boy,”</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
Blake had whispered against Ty’s neck as they both came down from
their orgasmic high. The memory was seared into his brain, causing
him both elation and dread.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
nodded, not trusting his voice.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
I said it, I mean it,” Blake said genuinely. “You </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>are</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
my boy, my lover, and the most important thing in my life. I need you
to believe that.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
wanted to. More than anything he wanted to believe that this time
would be different. He could say he did, but Blake would know that
the words were only to pacify and not heartfelt. Instead, he nodded
again and said quietly, “I know.” Because he did know that Blake
was trying; it was his own ghosts that haunted him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
also a very patient man, Ty. I’m not going to give up until you
believe me. Maybe this will help.” Blake pulled an envelope from
his pocket and handed it to him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
is it,” he asked, eyeing the letter suspiciously. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s
not going to bite you, just read it,” he encouraged, pushing the
envelope into Ty’s hand.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
glanced at Blake and narrowed his eyes. The thick envelope contained
numerous pages paper clipped together. As soon as he unfolded them,
he recognized it as legal documents pertaining to the purchase of the
club. Ty glanced back up at him and shrugged. “I know you bought
Folsom. Isn’t that what the champagne was for?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
took the papers and flipped the papers to the last page, a huge smile
on his face when he handed them back to Ty.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
scanned the page, his heart stopping in his chest when he read “Owner
Blake Henderson, Co-owner Tyler Callahan.” He shoved the papers
back at Blake. “No!” He tried to get up, but Blake held him
around the waist.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
do you mean, ‘no’?” Blake’s brow creased. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
not taking handouts from you.” Ty scrubbed a hand across his face,
trying to get his irritation under control before he spoke again.
“Blake, we’ve talked about this,” he said and met Blake’s
eyes unerringly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s
not a handout. It’s a sound business decision,” Blake responded
calmly. “You’re smart, good with the customers, and will bring a
lot to the club to help make it successful.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
still wasn’t comfortable with the idea and Blake must have picked
up on his unease, because he quickly added, “I’ll tell you what.
If it will set your mind at ease, we’ll set up a payment plan to
take a percentage of your profits until half of the down payment has
been paid. Fifty-fifty partnership.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Searching
Blake’s face, Ty tried to find any deceit in Blake’s eyes or
expression. He wasn’t as good at reading the man as Blake seemed to
be at reading him, but he knew Blake well enough to know when he was
being sincere or just pacifying Ty. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
sighed and finally relaxed again. “You’ll have the payment plan
drawn up?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
shook his head, posture falling in dejection. “There you go, not
trusting me again,” he said sadly. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
sorrow in Blake’s dark brown eyes tore at Ty’s heart, his need to
comfort was automatic, and he shifted, straddling Blake’s lap and
wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t
trust you with this, I swear. I just don’t want you feeling as if
you have to take care of me or that I can’t do it for myself.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Goddammit,
Ty,” Blake growled, grabbing Ty’s biceps in a tight grip and
shoving him back. “Don’t you fucking get it? I don’t have to
take care of you. I </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>want
</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">to take
care of you, and I want you to take care of me.” He crumbled the
contract in his fist, a fiery light burning in his eyes. “Fine,
don’t take my word for it that I want you around.” He shoved the
papers into Ty’s chest. “This is your written guarantee that I
want you around and not just today but long term, that you’re my
partner in every sense of the word.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
fight seemed to drain out of Blake, and he dropped the papers in Ty’s
lap, slumping back against his chair. “Tell me what I need to do to
prove it to you, Ty, and I’ll do it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
once again wrapped himself around Blake, pressing his face into
Blake’s neck. “Don’t leave me” slipped out before he could
bite down on his tongue to keep the words from passing his lips.
Fuck, he was a goddamn grown man and he sounded like a pathetic
child. He wished he could pull the words back into his fucked-up head
where they belonged.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
it was too late, Blake had heard them. To Ty’s surprise, Blake
didn’t mock him or shove him away in disgust for the weakness he’d
just shown. Blake just wrapped his arms tightly around Ty and kissed
the top of his head. “All I can do is promise you I won’t, but
only time will prove it to you.” He stroked Ty’s hair soothingly.
“I know our pasts have left their scars on us. I’m much more
protective and possessive of you than I was with Eli and I know I can
be a little smothering; it’s my scar.” Blake’s soft touch in
Ty’s hair tightened and he pulled Ty’s head back gently until
their eyes met. “I buried Eli and opened myself up to you. I need
you to bury your past and do the same for me. Trust me to handle your
scars.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m trying,” Ty
said sincerely. He blinked back the tears that threatened, refusing
to let them fall or to show any more weakness. “I don’t know why
I get so freaked out. It’s like it pops up when I’m happiest and
fucking chokes me. Most of the time I can push it away, but
sometimes…” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s not you,
Blake. You and your mom have done nothing but try to make me feel at
home since day one. But sometimes I’m too fucking weak to deal with
my childish abandonment issues and I end up doing shit that’s going
to make them become real.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
hand in his hair fell away, Blake soothing it down Ty’s back as he
chewed on his bottom lip, deep in thought. After a long moment of
silence Blake’s despairing expression melted away as a new gleam
started to light up his eyes. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
grabbed Ty's hair again to force Ty to look into his eyes. “Okay,
here’s the deal. You trust me with your finances, right?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
little I have is yours. You know that.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake’s
lip twitched, but he held back the smile, keeping his expression
neutral. “So, as long as I provide you with the proper legal
documents and repayment plan, you’ll be my business partner?”
Blake asked with a professional tone to his voice.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
thought of owning Folsom caused his gut to flutter, but in a good
way. Him, no-fucking-body Tyler Callahan, owner of a club. Christ, he
hadn’t seen that one coming. “Yes,” he said seriously, if not a
little giddily.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake’s eyes slid up
and down Ty’s torso, and then he licked his lips. “You trust me
with your body right?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s
yours,” Ty said without hesitation. Hell, there wasn’t much Blake
hadn’t done to his body. Bound it, beat it, fucked it, and loved
it. The answer to that question was a no-brainer. In all their time
together, Ty had never once had to safeword. That didn’t mean that
Blake didn’t push Ty’s limits. Christ, the man could push them
right to the edge where Ty was hanging on by the tips of his fingers
and barely keeping a grip on his sanity. However, he could also read
Ty like a book and always knew when to back off.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">His
bound cock was grabbed and massaged. Between the thoughts of Blake
pushing his limits, the hand on his dick, and the tongue that
demanded entrance into his mouth, Ty’s eyes rolled back in his
head, giving himself over to Blake and letting the stress and unease
that had gripped him earlier flow from his body.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Blake pulled back from the kiss, he leaned his forehead against Ty’s
as they breathed each other in for a moment. </span></span>“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't
you see? You are already my boy and my business partner. Trust me
that we can work on your scars together.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah,
I can do that,” he said, chasing those smiling lips, wanting more.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
laughed into another kiss, the vibration tickling along Ty’s
tongue, and he pulled Blake’s happiness into himself, giving his
own back.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now
that that is settled,” Blake announced and gently gave Ty a shove,
encouraging him to get up. As soon as Ty got to his feet, Blake was
on his and grabbing his hand. “Time for that ass-kissing I
promised.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hell
yeah! He hadn’t completely ruined the celebration. He was getting
another chance and this time Ty was going to make damn sure it ended
in one hell of a bang. Laughing, he followed Blake to their bedroom.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s1600/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s400/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter Three</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
Blake pulled Ty into their bedroom he couldn’t help but think that
his boy was going to drive him out of his ever-lovin’ mind one of
these days, he just knew it. One day he’d be laced into a
straightjacket and his mom would be visiting him in his
no-sharp-objects-allowed padded room and wiping the drool from his
chin.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
loved the man, the good Lord knew he did. Every inch of the
infuriating bastard, the good, the sexy, even the flawed parts, and
he had no doubt Ty loved him back. Ty may not have ever said the
words out loud, always hemming and hawing or distracting Blake when
he’d tell Ty he loved him, but Blake still knew it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Didn’t
matter really, love wasn’t words, love was actions and that’s all
he needed from Ty. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still,
the man drove him loco. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
understood why Ty couldn’t completely trust him yet, hell, it
hadn’t been that long ago that he hadn’t trusted Ty. And really,
their issues were pretty much the same. Ty was afraid he’d leave
him, and he in turn was scared shitless someone would take Ty away.
He’d spent many a nights having private conversations with Eli with
Ty asleep next to him, trying to walk that impossible line of living
in the past and looking toward the future. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
wasn’t until Eli's ghost nudged him—or maybe it was the way he
felt when he looked at Ty while he slept—that was the turning
point. Either way he knew that, had their fates been reversed, he’d
want nothing more than for Eli to find someone he could snuggle up to
at night that made him feel secure while he slept. He knew beyond the
shadow of a doubt that Eli would want him to be happy being that
security for someone.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Closing
the door behind them, Blake flipped the switch that would illuminate
the bedside table lamp. There was a soft smile on Ty’s face as he
looked up at him, but the events of the night—the elation, arousal,
falling into anger and guilt—left their telltale signs as weariness
in Ty’s eyes and the small crease in his brow. The emotional highs
and lows also left him pliable in Blake’s hands and he easily
allowed Blake to lay him across their king-sized bed without any
resistance or words.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Everything
about Ty fascinated him. Blake let his eyes roam leisurely along the
short, stocky man with his muscular, powerhouse body. Sometimes the
man was so cocksure he demanded respect and control of his world, yet
other times, he was that eight-year-old little boy being abandoned in
a small office of a courthouse and shedding tears for a little
chicken he’d named Charlie.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
loved everything about Ty, even if some aspects of his personality
were more difficult to deal with than others, but this side of Ty,
this submissive side, laid out before him to do whatever Blake
wanted, trusting him completely, this was the side that called most
to Blake. It appealed to both his dominant side and his
need-to-nurture protective side.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Popping
the button on Ty’s jeans and easing down the zipper, Blake held
Ty’s gaze, those pale blue eyes focused on each move Blake made. He
was thrilled at the notion that a simple touch could command the sole
focus of that fascinating mind.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Silently,
Blake carefully pulled the denim and silk away from Ty’s bound
cock, easing both garments down his muscular legs and tossing them
away. Ty’s cock was flushed deep in color, straining obscenely
upward from the black leather band secured around the base. His bound
balls shone with a purplish-red glow.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Christ,
you’re sexy,” Blake murmured, swirling a finger around the wet
tip of the flared cockhead. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
took in a sharp breath but remained silent, waiting. He wouldn’t
speak until either Blake asked him a question or he was ready to beg.
Here, behind closed doors, everything was easy. Ty didn’t have to
think, there was no past, present, or future, only his Master’s
pleasure. The anticipation of what Blake had planned for him was
evident in the slight trembling of Ty’s muscles and the excitement
gleaming in his blue eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pushing
up Ty’s T-shirt, Blake’s gaze feasted on the ridges of muscle
running across Ty’s belly; continuing to push the cotton material
up farther revealed the thick muscles of his chest, the little gold
rings in Ty’s nipples catching Blake’s attention. A temptation
too great to ignore, Blake leaned in and sucked one of the pierced
nubs into his mouth, tongue flicking the ring back and forth until Ty
moaned. Blake kissed his way across Ty’s breastbone to give the
other nipple the same attention, only this time adding scrape of
teeth.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah,
God,” Ty moaned, back arching.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty’s
nipples were extremely sensitive, with a twist to the gold, a bite of
pain to the pleasure, and Blake could make his boy come from just the
ministrations of his lips, tongue, and teeth to the little nubs. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
not tonight. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
leaned farther over Ty and pulled the T-shirt up and over his head as
he pressed his denim-covered groin against Ty’s cock, the abrasive
material causing Ty to hiss. Blake covered his mouth, taking the
sound in. He dominated the kiss, tongue thrusting deep, teeth
threatening, but Ty gave as good as he got. They devoured each other,
feasting until they were both breathless and grinning when it ended.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
do believe I made you a promise, didn’t I?” Blake asked, grinding
his hips into Ty, rubbing their erections together.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes,
sir,” Ty moaned, ass coming up off the bed seeking out even more
friction.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Straightening,
Blake slapped Ty’s thigh. “Hands and knees, boy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
nodded, his voice a little strained. “Yes, sir.” Ty flipped over,
knees on the edge of the bed with his feet dangling over the side and
planted his hands on the bed.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
took a minute to enjoy the sight of his boy on display for him. His
summer tan had faded, his skin now a light cream color over all those
strong, luscious muscles. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>All
mine.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
The thought made his cock throb.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
ran his hands lightly over each cheek of that perfect ass, squeezing
the meaty globes and pulling a grunt from Ty, the sound morphing into
a moan when Blake leaned down and pressed his mouth to Ty’s lower
back. He moved downward, teasing from the top to Ty’s crease with
lips and tongue, kissing each ass cheek before spreading them wide.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
always keep my promises,” Blake whispered and teased the tip of his
tongue slowly around Ty’s hole. “Don’t come, boy.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ahh,
I-I won’t, sir,” Ty panted.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
explored his boy’s ass painstakingly slowly, alternating between
kissing and biting at the muscular mounds and licking from the top of
his crease down to the delicate sac and back up to tease at Ty’s
tight little hole.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh,
fuck,” Ty groaned and pulled away a bit when Blake pushed his
tongue into him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
curled his fingers around Ty’s hips, holding him and not allowing
him to move away as he dove in with his tongue, fucking Ty’s ass.
Ty gasped, body tensing as he groaned and began babbling incoherent
nonsense as Blake went at his ass with single-minded determination.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No!”
Ty howled, pulling away when Blake slipped a finger deep in him.
“Ca-can’t. Jesus, I’m going to come,” he said harshly, head
dropping between his arms, chest heaving as he tried to get himself
back under control.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just
breathe,” Blake said lowly, instantly stopping all stimulation and
rubbing at Ty’s lower back. He wasn’t holding Ty’s orgasm back
to be mean or to punish. He wanted to keep his promise, yet be buried
deep in his boy when they came. “I got ya, deep breaths,” he
encouraged as he popped the button on his own jeans and pushed them
down his hips. “Wait for me, boy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">O…
yeah, okay,” he gasped. Ty took a couple more deep breaths, then
seemed to relax his body slightly, though the muscles still continued
to tremble and a fine sheen of perspiration covered his body. “Damn
that was close,” he chuckled and blew out another long breath.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There
was no way Ty was going to last long. Hell, with the gorgeous body
spread out before him, the needy sounds pouring from his boy, and the
taste of Ty, Blake doubted </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>he’d</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
last very long. They needed to take the edge off, and then he’d
spend the rest of the night showing Ty just how much he loved him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over
the bed,” he instructed, pulling at Ty’s hip, encouraging him to
place his feet on the floor while he spread the pre-come oozing from
his own slit down his shaft. Lining up his slick cock at Ty’s
entrance, he whispered, “Ready for me, boy?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">God,
yes,” Ty moaned pitifully. “Need you so fucking bad.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
know, need you too,” he murmured, nudging at Ty’s wet hole. Ty
opened up for him, accepting the invasion with a sigh and a moan.
Slowly, gently, Blake slid into him, until he was fully buried in
Ty’s body. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
stretched out, pressing his chest against Ty’s back and wrapping
his arms around him. “Love how tight your ass is,” he praised,
one hand splayed out over Ty’s chest, the other lightly stroking
Ty’s cock as they began to rock together. “Love how you feel
around me, against me—” He inhaled against Ty’s neck, taking
the musky scent deep into his lungs. “—the way you smell.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
moaned. “Need to be, everything for you. Everything. Always. Oh,
god,” Ty babbled. His words were disjointed as he began to rock
harder.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake’s
slow, languid thrusts sped, the tight, heat around his cock
demanding. “You are, Ty,” he whispered as he moved a little
faster. “You’re everything I need. You’re my beautiful, boy, my
lover, my breath. Everything I could ever want.” Blake’s fingers
curled against Ty’s chest, feeling his rapid heart rate. With his
free hand Blake tugged at the leather, releasing the band around Ty’s
cock and balls and letting it fall to the floor.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes…
so close.” Ty’s hands clutched the bedding in a white-knuckled
grip and threw his head back, back arching. “Please, please,
please! Love me, sir.” Ty’s voice broke on a sob.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Always,”
Blake growled and slammed into Ty faster, wrapping his fist around
Ty’s cock. “I’ll always love you. So fucking beautiful. God,
Ty, let me be your everything,” he panted. His climax built, moving
through him; his pulse roared in his ears, heart pounding.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes!
Oh, fuck!” Ty’s body went completely rigid, mouth wide in a
silent scream and cock throbbing hard in Blake’s hand. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">His
boy was beyond the point of no return, already beginning to fall into
bliss. One last, hard thrust, and Blake whispered, “Come for me.”
The wet heat fountained over Blake’s fist before the last word was
even out of his mouth.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah!
Yes, oh God.” Ty’s words were barely distinguishable, flowing
into a deep, satisfying moan, swaying, trembling, in constant motion
as he rode his orgasm.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
stayed buried in his boy’s ass, holding back his own need by pure
fucking orneriness, refusing to give in until every drop was pulled
from Ty’s body. The contractions around his dick caused his legs to
weaken and he locked his knees to keep from falling.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One
last thrust, the sounds of Ty’s whimpers, the smell of sex, the
vise grip around his cock all finally stripped Blake of the last of
his control and he came deep inside his boy, shooting pulse after
pulse, a growl filling the air. “Mine.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty’s
arms gave out and they both collapsed to the bed, Ty grunted as Blake
covered him with his full weight, but he sighed and melted into the
mattress, breathing hard. They stayed like that for long silent
moments as they each basked in the euphoria, Blake still buried deep
in Ty’s body.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
was sated and boneless and he didn’t want to move. But with his
pants around his legs and his knees about to give out, Blake finally
pressed a kiss to the side of Ty’s neck and forced himself to rise.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey,”
Ty protested as Blake’s cock slipped out and he lost the heat of
Blake’s body covering his own.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
smiled and swatted him playfully on the ass. “You’ll thank me
later. Up into the bed,” he ordered and kicked off his jeans. Ty
complied and Blake pulled off his shirt, throwing it haphazardly
behind him, and then turned out the light before he crawled beneath
the covers next to Ty.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
were right,” Ty mumbled, pushing up close and throwing a leg over
Blake’s hip and an arm over his waist.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
usually am,” Blake chuckled, kissing Ty’s nose. “But what was I
right about this time?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This
is way better than hanging off the bed with a nearly two hundred
pound man crushing me. Although,” Ty said regretfully, shifting his
hips until their softening cocks came in contact. “I do miss
certain crushing parts, sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If
you can get it up again, it’s all yours, boy.” Blake replied
seriously. Part of him hoped Ty would take the challenge, but it was
a small part. The majority of him hoped Ty would just snuggle close
and enjoy a little post-fuck basking, at least for a few minutes
anyway.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
laughed and kissed him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to bask,”
he said knowingly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh,
yeah, his boy knew him very well. Blake relaxed further, his body and
mind content. “You’re so good to me,” he said, cradling Ty
close.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
works both ways, sir.” Ty sighed softly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes
it does,” Blake said, kissing the top of Ty’s head.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They
lay together for a long while, just listening to each other breathe,
hands gently caressing backs and chests. If Blake ever had a shred of
doubt creep into his mind about whether he and Ty belonged together,
they were completely erased in moments like this. He knew Ty felt it
too. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Only
one last obstacle stood in the way of them being completely whole and
secure in each other and Blake would go to the ends of the earth to
remove it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s1600/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s400/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter Four</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
want to remind you once again, the chafing can be avoided by regular
care. I’d suggest making it part of your daily routine.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Phone
between his ear and shoulder, Blake scribbled more notes in the
margin of the instructions in front of him. “Morning and night like
clockwork I can assure you. I’ve got some last minute errands to
run so I won’t be at the club when you drop it off, but Bobby is
expecting you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let
Bobby know I’ll be there at noon.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shall
do. Oh and Jason?” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank
you. This means the world to me,” Blake said sincerely.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You’re
welcome, see you tonight.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
ended the call and folded the instructions, sliding them into the
folder and returning it to the desk drawer. Leaning back in his
office chair, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Damn he was nervous.
Tonight was a night of celebration with a few of their closest
friends. There wasn’t a damn thing to be anxious about he tried to
convince himself, but his queasy gut and jittery heart obviously
weren’t getting the memo.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pushing
back from his desk, Blake went in search of his boy. Ty wasn’t the
only one who would benefit from a day of heavy submission.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">*</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
sat silently in the passenger seat, eyes straight ahead, looking out
the front window as they headed to the club. Blake doubted Ty was
seeing the bright lights and commotion of the city as the car crept
along the busy streets. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
had kept Ty in heavy bondage, helping him find his headspace, and in
turn it had helped Blake find his own. Ty’s brow had creased when
Blake dressed him for the evening, but he never asked about the new
harness. The heavily studded leather straps came over Ty’s
shoulders in a V connecting to a large O-ring that in turn connected
to the strap that encircled his muscular chest just below his pierced
nipples. Another studded strap ran downward to another large O-ring
that anchored the strap around Ty’s waist, and still another strap
ran down to Ty’s groin, affixed to a heavy metal cock ring. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">God,
Ty was magnificent in nothing but leather and silver studs, heavy
cock bound.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
had taken every bit of his self-restraint to help Ty into his black
dress slacks and silk dress shirt when all he wanted to do was throw
his beautiful boy down on the bed and fuck him senseless. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Soon.
First they had an announcement to make to their staff.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
pulled up behind the club, putting the car in park before turning to
Ty. “Tonight is a big night for us, boy. Anything you want to say
before we go in?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
smiled at him and shook his head. “I just plan to follow your lead,
sir.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ty’s lips. “I plan to flaunt my
business partner's… assets, among other things,” he teased and
kissed his boy again before turning serious. “I’m proud to have
you at my side tonight.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank
you, sir. I’m proud to be there.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
smiled and stepped out of the car, hurrying around to open the door
for Ty. As soon as Ty was out, Blake entwined their fingers. “Our
public awaits, boy.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">****</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
was relieved when the bulk of the staff finally left, leaving behind
what Blake would consider his closest friends. The nice intimate
group meant he could finally sit back and relax. Everyone had been
great upon hearing the club’s transfer of ownership, and Ty and
Blake spent most of the night shaking hands and being congratulated.
Luckily for him, Blake had given the speech and laid out their vision
for the club, and he’d only had to stand at Blake’s side and
smile. He still wasn’t quite used to the idea of being an owner,
but he had to admit, the idea was growing on him. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He’d
just opened a bottle of water and taken a long pull, relaxing onto
one of the leather stools next to Micah, when Blake approached him.
Blake gave a curt nod to Micah before saying, “Follow me, boy.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
authoritative tone in Blake’s voice had him jumping to his feet. Ty
stole a glance toward Micah, who had a wide grin on his face.
Obviously his friend was privy to information Ty wasn’t, and he had
to fight the urge to stick his tongue out at the smiling bastard as
he hurried to follow Blake.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
could easily read Blake’s body language, his back was straight,
head held high, and his steps were measured. Ty fell back on his
training and walked to heel behind his Dom, posture perfect and eyes
low. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
led him to the center of the stage in front of a leather-bound bench.
“Strip and kneel, boy,” Blake ordered without turning away from
their small audience. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty’s
eyes went wide, and he hesitated as the shock of Blake’s words hit
him. He recovered quickly, however, keeping his eyes low as he
unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it while kicking off his shoes. A
tendril of unease and excitement trickled down Ty’s spine. Seldom
did he and Blake play in public. It wasn’t that either one of them
were modest, far from it. But Blake’s possessiveness ran deep and
unless the situation demanded it, Blake rarely put Ty’s body on
display in front of others. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Removing
his pants and socks, he swallowed down his confusion, putting his
complete trust in Blake, and went silently to his knees, careful to
ensure his posture was flawless.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today was a very
special day for me and my boy,” Blake said, addressing their
friends. “It means a great deal to us that you are here and were
able to share in our good news.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Out
of his peripheral vision, he watched Blake nod his head, and a man
he’d only just met tonight, Jason, got to his feet. Carrying a
wooden box just slightly smaller than a shirt box, Jason joined them
on stage and handed the box to Blake. “Thank you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason
nodded and then moved past his line of vision, his footsteps sounding
behind Ty a few strides and then stopping, before Blake spoke again.
“Today is special for another reason. In the last year, my boy and
I have had to face many obstacles, but we’ve overcome them
together. I’m so proud of him and before anyone can ever question
who he belongs to again, I’m collaring him.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Wait.
</i></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>What?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
word collaring was like a bomb strike Ty hadn’t seen coming and his
head started to lift, reeling from the shock, but he caught himself
at the last moment and kept his position. Holy fuck, he couldn’t
have heard Blake correctly. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
few times Blake had fastened a leather collar around his neck, he’d
loved the way it felt. Not in the physical sense so much, but the way
its presence made him feel. The collars he’d worn in the past were
for show, an accessory to complement the outfit Blake had chosen for
him, but with it on, Ty had walked a little straighter, a little
prouder with that small band of belonging around his neck. The
feelings the collar brought out in him, he could only assume, were
like those caused by a wedding ring, an outward sign of the
commitment made to another person.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty’s
skin prickled as goose bumps covered his body, and he fought to keep
his breathing even when Blake moved to stand before him. “So proud
of you, boy,” Blake whispered, running his hand through Ty’s
hair, and then did something that shocked Ty even more than the
statement of collaring. Blake dropped to his knees in front of Ty,
placed a finger beneath Ty’s chin and lifted his head until their
eyes met.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
smiled at him, a hopeful gleam in his dark brown eyes, and held out a
silver collar. “This is more than a sign of ownership, boy,”
Blake whispered for Ty’s ears only. “It’s a symbol of my
commitment to you and yours to me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Forcing
his gaze away from those soft brown eyes, Ty looked down and accepted
the collar. The silver-colored metal was heavy and cool beneath his
fingers as he ran them along the polished surface, but it warmed
quickly in his hand. When he turned it the lights reflected off the
gold that covered the inside of the collar. Ty’s breath hitched
when he read the inscription.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alongside
their entwined initials were the words: Forever His</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before
you say yes, know that once it’s riveted on, it won’t come off.”
Blake ran his fingers gently over Ty’s where he held the collar.
“It’s permanent and indestructible, Ty, just like my commitment
to you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
took a deep breath and wiped his eyes before meeting Blake’s gaze
once again. “Scars and all?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Scars
and all,” Blake echoed with a soft smile on his handsome face.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
helped him to his feet, he was a little off balance with the swell of
emotions surging through him, but Blake steadied him and took the
collar. “Jason, if you’d be so kind,” Blake said, holding the
collar out. “My boy has accepted.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
applause, shouts, and whistles from their friends snapped Ty back to
where they were and his cheeks heated, having forgotten they had had
an audience for such a private moment. The embarrassment was quickly
forgotten as Blake ushered him over where Jason stood next to a small
table. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Display,”
Blake ordered before he walked to the table and picked up a small
silver band. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty’s
hands went behind his back, shifting his feet slightly until his
position and posture were perfect. His body responded to the elation
of what was about to happen, his flesh warming and his cock
hardening. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
brought the band over and showed it to Ty. It was almost identical in
design to Ty’s collar, the same silver metal with gold lining, only
smaller in size. Blake tilted it and moved it closer so Ty could read
the inscription. It was identical to his.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
works both ways,” Blake said softly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
swallowed hard and nodded. Everything just seemed so surreal, or
maybe he was just dreaming. The last year had certainly been a
fantasy. Blake coming into his life, moving to New York City, he was
a club owner for God’s sakes, and now a commitment not just as
Blake’s submissive but as his partner in every sense of the word.
Damn, he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Both
emotions battled for supremacy and as an effect, Ty stood there
trembling with his heart in his throat. He more than likely looked
like a complete and utter fool since he was also aroused as hell,
watching as Blake sat in a chair next to the table where Jason had
his tools laid out.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake,
however, looked completely composed and sure of himself as he rolled
up the right sleeve of his dress shirt, winking at Ty as he laid his
exposed forearm on the table. “You don't think I would allow anyone
to do something to you I hadn't tested out first, do you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No,
sir,” Ty responded hesitantly. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">His
hesitation had nothing to do with the question. He knew Blake would
never do anything to him that wasn't completely safe, but he was
confused as to why attaching a collar would be dangerous or something
that would need to be tested first. A trickle of unease seeped into
him as he watched Jason run a thick strip of leather and a wide piece
of metal between Blake's wrist and the bracelet. Blake's entire
forearm and hand, except a small section of the metal around his
wrist, was then covered with some kind of heavy material. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty's
brow furrowed, his anxiety level rising, as he observed Jason reach
into what he'd thought was an ornate fire for decoration with a pair
of tongs and pull out a red hot piece of metal. Unable to keep his
eyes lowered, Ty looked to Blake in alarm. Blake, who could read Ty
so well, smiled and said soothingly, “It's okay, focus right here
on me.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There
was a loud sound of metal hitting metal and Blake winced. Ty shot a
look toward Jason and glared.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty.”
Blake’s voice was like the snap of a whip, one that couldn't be
ignored, and Ty focused his eyes back on Blake's.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Clenching
his fists where they rested against the small of his back, Ty forced
himself to keep his eyes locked with his Dom's. As much as he tried,
he couldn't completely ignore the sound or the steam billowing up as
Jason poured water over Blake's wrist to cool the metal before
setting the next rivet. Ty took a deep breath and held it. The effort
it took to keep still caused his tense muscles to vibrate. He'd
endure anything for Blake, any amount of pain—hell, he craved,
often begged, for the erotic pain his lover could inflict. The
thought of Blake being hurt, however, made him physically ill.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thankfully
Jason was quick and when he patted Blake on the shoulder and said,
“All done,” Ty finally let out the breath he'd been holding.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
absently muttered his thanks to Jason, already moving toward Ty to
stand behind him. “I'm officially yours, Ty, are you ready to be
mine?” he whispered, brushing his lips against Ty's ear.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
already am, sir,” Ty answered honestly and without hesitation. He
was Blake's in every sense of the word.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then
let's make it official.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
allowed Blake to lead him to the leather bench and help him lay out
in the proper position. The back of his head, neck, and across his
shoulders were draped in heavy leather, but Ty was barely aware of
what Jason was doing. Blake had gone to his knees in front of him,
those dark eyes holding his as Blake caressed Ty's cheek. Through the
entire riveting process Ty felt no pain, none of the heat. He wasn’t
even aware of Jason or anyone else in the club as he lost himself in
Blake's eyes and soothing touch.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He'd
spent his entire life yearning to belong, to be wanted and loved.
Even when he'd lost all hope of ever having a family, convinced
himself he didn't need one and people weren't worthy of trust, on
some level he’d never stopped dreaming, hoping.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
loved him, protected him, and brought so much happiness to his life.
Wasn't that what family did? As he continued to stare at Blake, his
eyes so warm, his expression one of pure bliss as Ty lay there
accepting his symbol of commitment, it occurred to Ty that it didn't
matter what kind of family you grew up in, the one you made was what
was important. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
tried to blink back his tears, but one escaped and rolled down his
cheek as he came to the realization that Blake and Martha had made
him part of theirs. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
wiped the salty droplet from Ty's cheek and whispered, “I love
you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And
Ty knew it. Felt it in the center of his being that Blake loved him,
and he in return loved Blake with everything he was. But he couldn't
say it, afraid he would lose it and break down and weep like a baby.
Instead he swallowed hard, keeping his teeth clenched, and nodded. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
the covering was pulled away, Blake helped him to his feet and Ty
nearly collapsed. There had been no pain, no physical hardship to
endure; it was the full weight of the commitment behind the metal
circling his throat that nearly drove him to his knees. He didn't
fall, however, but stood in the center of the stage; with Blake at
his back and in front of those gathered, Ty puffed out his chest and
proudly displayed Blake's collar.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although
this collar represents Ty's submission to me,” Blake announced.
“It’s also a symbol of my devotion and commitment to him and his
to me. It, as well as the band around my wrist, is a constant
reminder of the promise we made to each other. It is the promise of
forever, and I'll work every day to be worthy of him.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
everyone stood and applauded, whistling and calling out
congratulations, Ty reached up and lovingly stroked the collar.
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Forever.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
Ty gave into to the overwhelming emotions, throwing his arms around
Blake and burying his face in Blake's neck as the tears stared to
blur his vision. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake
held him tightly, giving him a minute to get his emotions under
control before pulling back slightly and lifting Ty's chin. “Go
show it off so I can take you home ”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ty
sniffed and grinned as he wiped at his damp cheeks. “Yes, sir.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
started to pull away, but Blake stopped him and leaned in close,
speaking against Ty's ear. “And when we get there, I'm going to
fuck my beautiful boy through the mattress.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
shudder went through Ty at the harsh growl in Blake's voice, and he
groaned loudly when his cock was grabbed in a tight fist and pumped a
couple of times. Ty practically ran off the stage. The sooner he
accepted the congratulations from their friends the quicker they
could go home. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake had seduced his
mind and demanded his focus, and in return Ty had given him his body
to command. Yet in the end, Blake had found his soul and given him
the home and family he was always missing, and Ty was his forever.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The End</b></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s1600/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWj0lDmcxQTErBa3pI0CmwD7vaET9W6GD2HbN4qC4pkIhJ3ojUqP-HY83XW7m0kJs5dk4rmNYYiCCGLXbatUUD-rBZqizAwrf11AWCSTC8uutddAbFvxoxDhHphw3RZsSy2DknxssKgNIY/s400/RIVETEDBoarder.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Authors Note:</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank you to everyone who
followed the Whispering Pines Ranch Series and demanded Ty's happily
ever after. I hope I was able to do Ty and Blake proud. These two men
have some very interesting friends who deserve to have their stories
told. Watch for a new series coming to Dreamspinner Press April/May
of 2013, called Guards of Folsom. Book #1 Pup, features Tackett and
Micah.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">~Hugs~</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jo</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">http://sjdpeterson.blogspot.com/</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-61700763923868756652012-12-04T08:44:00.004-08:002012-12-04T08:44:51.176-08:00Blog Hop Winner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.cortonawedding.com/graf/thankyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="http://www.cortonawedding.com/graf/thankyou.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A huge thank you to everyone who followed RJ Scott's holiday Blog Hop and for reading and or commenting on my post. Without further ado.... The winner of an ebook copy of </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Tuck & Cover </span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">goes to.... </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;">Laurie</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.treasurenet.com/forums/attachments/thinking-you/178823d1332663195-thank-you-birthday-clan-hands_clapping-1-.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.treasurenet.com/forums/attachments/thinking-you/178823d1332663195-thank-you-birthday-clan-hands_clapping-1-.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanks again everyone for your support</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">~<span style="font-size: large;">Hugs~</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jo </span> </span> </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-45087070941456329172012-12-01T02:21:00.001-08:002012-12-01T05:39:26.269-08:00A Soldier's Silent Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
At Christmastime while you are enjoying your time with family and
friends, remember the soldiers spending Christmas away from their
families and their country. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="module_header">
<h2 class="module_title " style="text-align: center;">
A Soldier's Silent Night </h2>
</div>
<div align="center">
<img border="0" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/226/479873382_85fdc01397.jpg?v=0" /></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/mO4cJdN-Q8o?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,<br />
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.<br />
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,<br />
and to see just who in this home did live.<br />
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,<br />
no tinsel, no presents, net even a tree.<br />
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,<br />
on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.<br />
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,<br />
a sober thought came through my mind.<br />
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,<br />
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.<br />
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,<br />
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.<br />
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,<br />
not how I pictured a United States Soldier.<br />
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?<br />
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?<br />
I realized the families that I saw this night,<br />
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.<br />
Soon round the world, the children would play,<br />
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.<br />
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,<br />
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.<br />
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,<br />
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.<br />
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,<br />
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.<br />
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,<br />
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;<br />
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,<br />
my life is my God, my Country, My Corps."<br />
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep<br />
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.<br />
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still<br />
and we both shivered from the cold night's chill.<br />
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,<br />
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.<br />
The the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,<br />
whispered, "carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure."<br />
One look at my watch and I knew he was right.<br />
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> Originally titled "Merry Christmas, My Friend" and written by Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt in 1987.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlujI-ioEWvBFppkRcXDSYQH4iPSNeLwnJXSl0owGvcRAlJ1hz1LrKK0PjfyKoGJIWbxQzhr2ou1hNYbavxUaaCPu2_rd5cT3XcI4hXPekeWkACgTaUDAXX48LWepWjv-bRewRdLx6O9q/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlujI-ioEWvBFppkRcXDSYQH4iPSNeLwnJXSl0owGvcRAlJ1hz1LrKK0PjfyKoGJIWbxQzhr2ou1hNYbavxUaaCPu2_rd5cT3XcI4hXPekeWkACgTaUDAXX48LWepWjv-bRewRdLx6O9q/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What are you thankful for this holiday season? Leave a comment and be entered to win a Ebook Copy of Tuck & Cover <span style="font-size: small;">(Owen and Tuck are lucky enough to get to spend CChristmas together this year)</span></span><i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNFedJnKqtW34AwW-PzcoNh3ek1qhn6KmCgvp2430R-ptAROtxM0P59ZQZrF0QNfOibNxreuENu0EMowKQcZigM02RbwkPBN1-o3iTLwFK26pUy7KocsqASsqKxUcBDfTcf5hDqIx57q0/s1600/Tuck%2526Cover200x300%253B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNFedJnKqtW34AwW-PzcoNh3ek1qhn6KmCgvp2430R-ptAROtxM0P59ZQZrF0QNfOibNxreuENu0EMowKQcZigM02RbwkPBN1-o3iTLwFK26pUy7KocsqASsqKxUcBDfTcf5hDqIx57q0/s1600/Tuck%2526Cover200x300%253B.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="ui-tabs-panel ui-widget-content ui-corner-bottom" id="tabs-1">
You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled <i>Battle Buddy</i>. Some of the events he didn't get exactly right. Here's the way I remember it going down.<br />
<br />
<i>You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled </i>Battle Buddy<i>,
but he didn't get all the details exactly right. Tuck will argue the
point; but I assure you, a few facts he definitely got wrong. I don't
blame him or claim that he lied intentionally. At the time he was, if
you remember, a little sexually frustrated; and it may have skewed his
thinking just a wee bit. To this day, I still tease him about it. This
is my take on our wild and crazy ride.</i><br />
<i>"Rangers Lead The Way!"</i><br />
<i>Owen</i><br />
AUTHOR'S ADVISORY: This book contains Badass Army Rangers having hot sex!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/You%20may%20have%20heard%20the%20story%20of%20my%20time%20in%20boot%20camp%20and%20Ranger%20School%20in%20Shane%20Tucker%27s%20published%20diary%20entitled%20Battle%20Buddy.%20Some%20of%20the%20events%20he%20didn%27t%20get%20exactly%20right.%20Here%27s%20the%20way%20I%20remember%20it%20going%20down.%20%20%20%20%20You%20may%20have%20heard%20the%20story%20of%20my%20time%20in%20boot%20camp%20and%20Ranger%20School%20in%20Shane%20Tucker%27s%20published%20diary%20entitled%20Battle%20Buddy,%20but%20he%20didn%27t%20get%20all%20the%20details%20exactly%20right.%20Tuck%20will%20argue%20the%20point;%20but%20I%20assure%20you,%20a%20few%20facts%20he%20definitely%20got%20wrong.%20I%20don%27t%20blame%20him%20or%20claim%20that%20he%20lied%20intentionally.%20At%20the%20time%20he%20was,%20if%20you%20remember,%20a%20little%20sexually%20frustrated;%20and%20it%20may%20have%20skewed%20his%20thinking%20just%20a%20wee%20bit.%20To%20this%20day,%20I%20still%20tease%20him%20about%20it.%20This%20is%20my%20take%20on%20our%20wild%20and%20crazy%20ride.%20%20%22Rangers%20Lead%20The%20Way!%22%20%20Owen%20%20AUTHOR%27S%20ADVISORY:%20This%20book%20contains%20Badass%20Army%20Rangers%20having%20hot%20sex!" target="_blank">CHECK IT OUT HERE </a></div>
<i><br /></i>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://rjscottauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/christmas-blog-hop-for-glbtq-authors.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOIWiq-pJNmHKfPKlopzxvJuTaXpGcQxlH2KPg86rcUaVXaPNDMDk_4M8o8bETHpS1ee4KA156vzzLsLs_TALeN86cpF-9dChgMnlepOV5sjFsrREtWMpM93-PutS0XvMXVKl77Yb_0Xj/s320/RJScottxmasBloghop.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://rjscottauthor.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=48771194e4e37308" target="_blank">Click HERE to be taken to the Blog Hop.</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;">Why not check out this weekend's Christmas Blog Hop for prizes, free reads and blog posts!</span></b><br />
<table align="Left" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" id="DataList1"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
1. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281255" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://lmbrownauthor.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-christmas-blog-hop.html">* L. M. Brown - The Christmas Blog Hop - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
2. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281275" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://authorsamcauley.wordpress.com/big-shiny-boxes-and-fluffy-bows">* S. A. McAuley - Big Shiny Boxes and Fluffy Bows - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
3. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281276" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com/2012/11/rj-scott-holiday-hop.html">* Lee Brazil - RJ Scotts holiday blog hop - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
4. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281307" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://sjdpetersonwrites.blogspot.co.uk/">* SJD Peterson - Holiday Spirits - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
5. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281321" target="_blank" title="Linked to: oscarsbruisedpetals.blogspot.com/">* S. A. Garcia - Misplaced at Birth: a Tale of Two Elves - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
6. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281325" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://amariemay.blogspot.co.uk/">* Anna Marie May - Christmas Spirit - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
7. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281364" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://silviaviolet.com/blog/2012/12/01/christmas-blog-hop-needing-a-little-christmas">* Silvia Violet - Christmas Blog Hop: Needing A Little Christmas - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
8. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281560" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://galestanley.blogspot.com/">* Gale Stanley - Christmas Blog Hop: A Ride Through Wonderland - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
9. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281580" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://www.ajllewellyn.com/site/blog/">* A. J. Lewellyn - Bah, Humbug - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
10. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5281633" target="_blank" title="Linked to: sarayork.blogspot.com">* Sara York - Holiday Fun</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
11. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5282339" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://freddymackay.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-very-snowy-christmas-wish.html">* Freddy MacKay - A Very Snowy Christmas Wish - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
12. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5282404" target="_blank" title="Linked to: charliecochet.blogspot.com">* Charlie Cochet - Welcome to Charlies Holiday Hijinks! - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
13. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5282487" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://tonigriffin.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/a-very-holland-christmas.html">* Toni Griffin - A Very Holland Christmas - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
14. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5282601" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://dcjuris.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/rj-scotts-christmas-blog-hop.html">* DC Juris - RJs Blog hop - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
15. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5282660" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://allisoncassatta.blogspot.com/2012/11/dreaming-of-white-christmas.html">* Allison Cassatta - Dreaming of a white Christmas - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
16. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5283707" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://rjscottauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/christmas-blog-hop-for-glbtq-authors.html">* RJ Scott - My Christmas Top 5 - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
17. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5283709" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/3348279-celebrating-december">* Serena Yates - Celebrating December - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
18. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5283729" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://nrwalker.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/rj-scotts-blog-hop-free-read-sixty-five.html">* N. R. Walker - Sixty Five Hours Christmas Outtake - Free Read</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
19. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5296931" target="_blank" title="Linked to: lillianfrancis.blogspot.com/">* Lillian Francis - Just the facts, ma’am (aka, Sometimes Wikipedia does get it right)</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
20. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5297250" target="_blank" title="Linked to: lworrall.blogspot.com">* Lisa Worrall - RJ Scotts Christmas Blog Hop - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
21. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5299516" target="_blank" title="Linked to: lexiander.blogspot.com/">* Lexi Ander - Holiday Memories - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
22. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5437601" target="_blank" title="Linked to: vonalogan.blogspot.co.nz/">* Vona Logan - Celebrate Christmas For Real - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
23. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5439695" target="_blank" title="Linked to: chrisquinton.com">* Chris Quinton - A Christmas Memory - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
24. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5442598" target="_blank" title="Linked to: www.michaelbarnette.com">* Michael Barnette - Holiday Blog Hop - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
25. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5442882" target="_blank" title="Linked to: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/sues-christmas-and-year-we-ate-bing.html">* Sue Brown - Sues Christmas and year we ate Bing - includes competition</a></div>
</div>
</td> </tr>
<tr> <td style="border-color: #E4E4E4; border-style: Solid; border-width: 1px;" valign="top"><div style="white-space: pre-line;">
<div style="float: left; font-size: 80%; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width: 28px;">
26. </div>
<div style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 1.15; margin-left: 34px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;">
<a href="http://www.linkytools.com/click_linky.aspx?entryid=5444948" target="_blank" title="Linked to: talesfromthewritingcave.blogspot.com">* Cherie Noels - Christmas Tales from the Writing Cave - Free Reads</a></div>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-80480581671373825102012-11-23T12:17:00.005-08:002012-11-23T12:17:56.422-08:00Do you like sexy Military Men?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8qhKlAAkjbAvGGhuJc8YpkEA6fgPKdb6x9os11Ei7sk99Zf_KKx2rfOVQnmibWWUHQ1IldJP4q4Ry0HFkMi1F15tCOVR_9jQvLQYstStOeZmQuCHBcO4iMdXtdYEJFodIyBwebsuWsE/s1600/!cid_part13_08050308_08080107@wi_rr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8qhKlAAkjbAvGGhuJc8YpkEA6fgPKdb6x9os11Ei7sk99Zf_KKx2rfOVQnmibWWUHQ1IldJP4q4Ry0HFkMi1F15tCOVR_9jQvLQYstStOeZmQuCHBcO4iMdXtdYEJFodIyBwebsuWsE/s320/!cid_part13_08050308_08080107@wi_rr.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
(Thanks Will for the great photos)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">What about sexy Army Rangers?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then you'll love Tuck & Cover</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Coming to Silver publishing TOMORROW! November 24th</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="ui-tabs-panel ui-widget-content ui-corner-bottom" id="tabs-1">
You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled <em>Battle Buddy</em>. Some of the events he didn't get exactly right. Here's the way I remember it going down.<br />
<br />
<em>You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled </em>Battle Buddy<em>,
but he didn't get all the details exactly right. Tuck will argue the
point; but I assure you, a few facts he definitely got wrong. I don't
blame him or claim that he lied intentionally. At the time he was, if
you remember, a little sexually frustrated; and it may have skewed his
thinking just a wee bit. To this day, I still tease him about it. This
is my take on our wild and crazy ride.</em><br />
<em>"Rangers Lead The Way!"</em><br />
<em>Owen</em><br />
AUTHOR'S ADVISORY: This book contains Badass Army Rangers having hot sex!<br />
<br />
Buy Link: <a href="https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/1309/">https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/1309/</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-82412120802602072032012-11-20T15:51:00.000-08:002012-11-20T15:51:03.644-08:00Snippet from WIP Wrong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://media.weirdworm.com/img/life/9-people-you-dont-want-to-meet/semion-mogilevich02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://media.weirdworm.com/img/life/9-people-you-dont-want-to-meet/semion-mogilevich02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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like a man?”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This nobody. A trick. In his expertly tailored
dark suit, Ferragamo lace-up shoes, and black cashmere overcoat. Slumming on
the wrong side of the tracks to fuck men in dark, rotting alleyways. He had
dared to think I wasn’t man enough? </span></div>
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<![endif]--><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-3975136053987304122012-11-20T08:59:00.003-08:002012-11-20T08:59:33.347-08:005 star review for Tuck & Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
SJD Peterson’s TUCK AND COVER is the sequel to the first book in the
Rough Rangers series, BATTLE BUDDY. I love what she has done with these
two books and their POVs, and let me tell you why.<br />Books told in the
first person give you an inside look at the motivations and thoughts of
one of the MCs. I’ve read books that use first person for two different
characters and if not done very skillfully that can confuse the reader.<br />BATTLE
BUDDY is told in first person from Tuck’s POV. When I read this book
and reviewed it I admit I was a little bit tangled up by why Owen joined
the Army and why he pursued Tuck, who was always angry at Owen.<br />Ah
ha! Those questions are answered in TUCK AND COVER, which is most of the
same ground covered again but this time from Owen’s POV. It was great
to see events from a different perspective and see everything coming
together.<br />SJD Peterson remains one of my favorite authors because she
has a clear style of writing, develops characters who are so realistic
and endearing I want to meet them, and ties everything together with a
plot that flows smoothly.<br />Please see my complete review on Release Day, November 24, 2012 at <a href="http://mrsconditreadsbooks.com/index.php/?p=8557" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://mrsconditreadsbooks.com/index....</a><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-60036429703553426852012-11-17T01:39:00.002-08:002012-11-17T01:43:24.485-08:00A Birthday Party Bash<div id="rpuCopySelection" style="color: black; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/A%20Birthday%20Party%20Book%20Bash!%20Labels:%20BlogHop,%20contest,%20guest%20Happy%20Birthday%20to%20Me!%20Today%20I%E2%80%99m%20celebrating%20turning%20forty.%20Woo%20Hoo!%20I%E2%80%99ve%20never%20been%20bothered%20by%20getting%20older%20and%20I%20think%20it%E2%80%99s%20because%20I%E2%80%99ve%20always%20been%20surrounded%20by%20older%20people%E2%80%A6%20I%E2%80%99m%20the%20youngest%20sibling%20of%20six%20and%20all%20of%20my%20friends%20have%20all%20reached%20this%20mile%20marker%20and%20are%20eagerly%20waiting%20for%20me%20around%20the%20next%20curve%20and%20to%20be%20honest,%20so%20much%20respect%20comes%20with%20age.%20So%20here%E2%80%99s%20forty%20cheers%20to%20turning%20forty.%20%20I%20invited%20some%20of%20my%20author%20friends%20to%20celebrate%20my%20birthday%20with%20me%20in%20an%20on-line%20birthday%20party.%20And%20can%20I%20just%20say%20I%20was%20totally%20overwhelmed%20by%20the%20response%E2%80%A6%20some%20great%20authors%20have%20joined%20me%20today%20to%20share%2040%20really%20fabulous%20books%20with%20you.%20Be%20ready%20to%20add%20some%20to%20your%20TBR%20Lists!%20%20%20Be%20sure%20to%20read%20all%20the%20way%20to%20the%20end%20because%20we%E2%80%99re%20also%20giving%20away%2040%20Books!%20Consider%20it%20your%20present%20for%20stopping%20in%20to%20celebrate%20with%20me.%20Paloma%20%20Romance%20Beckons%20(http://s.tt/1tsoD)" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPO_AEyceZNH71SWeG6_-fmw_UPAMiXpahatkiDt8C61tWTgqupOmvr5gXel7hkYxuuGJGa-oTvZyygjG3_k-63yCxYJ5JlA8rPZ6lHKaotkRn-M6TXwkw_L7ctM8OumZGSymMlAMQ30/s400/banner+birthday+bash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="color: #a64d79;">A Happy Birthday Message from Paloma</b><br /><i>Today I’m celebrating turning forty. Woo Hoo! I’ve never been
bothered by getting older and I think it’s because I’ve always been
surrounded by older people… I’m the youngest sibling of six and all of
my friends have all reached this mile marker and are eagerly waiting for
me around the next curve and to be honest, so much respect comes with
age. So here’s forty cheers to turning forty.</i></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br /><i>I invited some of my author friends to celebrate my birthday with me
in an on-line birthday party. And can I just say I was totally
overwhelmed by the response… some great authors have joined me today to
share 40 really fabulous books with you. Be ready to add some to your
TBR Lists! </i></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><i><br /></i><i>Be sure to read all the way to the end because we’re also giving away
40 Books! Consider it your present for stopping in to celebrate with
me.</i></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><i><b><span style="color: #a64d79;">Paloma</span></b></i></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Check out the blog by clicking the banner above or typing in this link: <a href="http://romancebeckons.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-birthday-party-book-bash.html#.UKdYCIZicuI">http://romancebeckons.blogspot.com/2012/11/a-birthday-party-book-bash.html#.UKdYCIZicuI</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-24500047853236427882012-11-11T06:25:00.000-08:002012-11-11T06:25:50.806-08:00Anthology Announced!! I've been posting little snippets of a story I've been working on called "Wrong" teasers as they say. What I didn't mention was what my plans were for this story. This morning Eric Arvin let the cat out of the bag on his blog!!<br />
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PREPARE YESELF!! Big announcement here. In the works now, a new anthology featuring work by<a href="http://tjklunebooks.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> Tj Klune</a>,<a href="http://authorsamcauley.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> S.A. McAuley</a>, <a href="http://sjdpeterson.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sjd Peterson</a>, <a href="http://www.abigailroux.com/" target="_blank">Abi Roux</a>, Cyndie Hastey, and yours truly. Unconventional stories by unconventional writers. The title is <i>Crack the Darkest Sky Wide Open </i>and is set for release this May.<br />
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<br />
Eric also has some more exciting news for other projects he's working on. You can check out the complete list <a href="http://ericarvin.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-list-big-things-ahead.html" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
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<br />
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You can't imagine how honored I am to be included with this amazing list of authors. I am truly humbled they have allowed me to be part of this project!! So go check out Eric's announcements and I'm going to go do a little happy dancing around the house!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>~Hugs~<br />Jo</b></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-41911696332998218092012-11-05T04:01:00.001-08:002012-11-05T04:01:10.482-08:00Another Sneak Peek - Tuck & Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Standing outside the
hall with a dozen other soldiers, I waited for orders that would start my
journey with the Fourth Ranger Training Battalion. Not a single man said a
word, but as I studied each one, I could tell they were doing the same thing I
was, sizing each other up. One short, stocky soldier stood shuffling nervously
from foot to foot, wringing his hands. His hazel eyes shifted constantly, never
settling on one thing. I didn't bother reading the name stitched on his shirt;
he wouldn't be making it through the first phase. A tall soldier, though still
a couple inches shorter than my six foot, four inch height, sneered at me with
cold gray eyes when I met his gaze. I wasn't the least bit intimidated. I
cocked my head, my lip itching to curl into a smile. I had to give this guy—Thompson,
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The sound of a vehicle pulling
in behind me grabbed my attention. Checking out the newest recruits would be
more exciting than giving this joker any more consideration. I smiled and
winked at him, fighting back laughter when his scowl deepened, and I swear I
could hear him growl. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All bark and no
bite</i> was the first thing that popped into my head. I controlled the urge to
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The bus pulled to a
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for a man I barely knew flew out the window as a sexy soldier with sapphire
blue eyes stepped off the bus.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v11-ouSx6_zJ0qiNobnS1l3h6dOT_xFZ5xeuheyWlO8E_wBfsYB2cRy7Zq5FoKhyphenhyphenFT3Yj8RIxNG6QHQ2VLeIe4577Yx0EeYSQ8u-L_F2gb6bhpRsrq0wZmxg9-KG6vmAHp_t7dO8hSf6/s1600/army.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v11-ouSx6_zJ0qiNobnS1l3h6dOT_xFZ5xeuheyWlO8E_wBfsYB2cRy7Zq5FoKhyphenhyphenFT3Yj8RIxNG6QHQ2VLeIe4577Yx0EeYSQ8u-L_F2gb6bhpRsrq0wZmxg9-KG6vmAHp_t7dO8hSf6/s200/army.jpg" width="159" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well I'll be a
son of a bitch, Tuck!" I yelled excitedly before thinking better of it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tuck froze, his eyes
going wide, and then a strange look crossed his face. Was it disappointment? I
pushed the thought aside. Tuck's mouth was moving as he shook his head slightly,
but I couldn't make out what he was saying. My body was on the move before I'd
even given it permission to do so. A couple long strides and I had Tuck wrapped
in a bear hug. My body instantly went from warm to scorching hot the instant
our bodies connected. I ran my hand down the sinew of his back, swallowing a
moan that threatened to rise; my other hand fisted in Tuck's shirt, and I pulled
him closer. My heart rate went nuts as blood heated and rushed through my
system on a fast track to my groin, and I needed a minute to get myself under
control. It was a losing battle when Tuck's unique scent enveloped me as my
arms surrounded him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tuck stayed stiff
against me, and I felt a weak pat against my back before I was shoved roughly
backward. "Owen, I ummm…" Tuck brought his hand to his mouth and
coughed. A fake smile played across Tuck's lips, and I could hear the struggle
in his voice to keep it neutral when he said, "Hey Bradford, didn't
realize they let people like you into Ranger School."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I couldn't help but be
amused by Tuck's discomfort, my eyes roaming down his body appreciatively
before I met his gaze again. I licked my bottom lip, the message clear when I
teased, "Guess that makes two of us they let in."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A CO standing on the
steps to the hall began barking orders. I turned my head for only a second but
when I turned back around, Tuck was shouldering his bag and practically running
toward the barracks. Sighing, I turned and walked back to my own duffle and
picked it up off the ground. Just as I stood, Thompson brushed past, his
shoulder bumping mine.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRhXktxjRQfap7q8Sv7VPjusu_k793cXhuq050Vb7vzISfxaF7fv-Btof1oTPYLjz-9NtP5YX78GQeznvSin-GQjaoYGY5b9i0Bpkp5XsZXj4YQa628bwVvWOAH8drQQYKv0eJPMaOCjA/s1600/MP900443309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRhXktxjRQfap7q8Sv7VPjusu_k793cXhuq050Vb7vzISfxaF7fv-Btof1oTPYLjz-9NtP5YX78GQeznvSin-GQjaoYGY5b9i0Bpkp5XsZXj4YQa628bwVvWOAH8drQQYKv0eJPMaOCjA/s200/MP900443309.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"I take it that
was your faggot boyfriend," he said vehemently as he passed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I stiffened but reined
in my shock quickly. I wasn't about to be baited. When the dumb shit glanced
back over his shoulder, I was smiling broadly and winked. Laughter burst out of
me when Thompson's face deepened to an angry shade of red. He then turned back
around and stomped off in the direction of the barracks. I headed in the same
direction, my mood apparently much better than his as I continued to laugh.</span></div>
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<div class="ui-tabs-panel ui-widget-content ui-corner-bottom" id="tabs-1">
<em>You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled </em>Battle Buddy<em>. Some of the events he didn't get exactly right. Here's the way I remember it going down. </em><br />
<br />
You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled <em>Battle Buddy</em>,
but he didn't get all the details exactly right. Tuck will argue the
point; but I assure you, a few facts he definitely got wrong. I don't
blame him or claim that he lied intentionally. At the time he was, if
you remember, a little sexually frustrated; and it may have skewed his
thinking just a wee bit. To this day, I still tease him about it. This
is my take on our wild and crazy ride.<br />
"Rangers Lead The Way!"<br />
Owen<br />
AUTHOR'S ADVISORY: This book contains Badass Army Rangers having hot sex!<br />
<br />
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Book #2 in the Rough Rangers series Coming November 24th - Now available for Pre-Order</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/1309/" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Battle Buddy ( Rough Rangers, #1)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Available Now</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLskaOWJKpijHJX6kODOUUOBLWwD0BTjzNcF7l3sRbNWKl3OcLeZ_Bygx3OBr1l7CrBhHNftV5qIKwS07Ijkasqjg4OTlrqAAiTNYOw0KpxcOUkbxk3MNYP_mhyphenhyphenyx0jM94ErKz4H8vEIif/s1600/Battle_Buddy-SJD_Peterson200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLskaOWJKpijHJX6kODOUUOBLWwD0BTjzNcF7l3sRbNWKl3OcLeZ_Bygx3OBr1l7CrBhHNftV5qIKwS07Ijkasqjg4OTlrqAAiTNYOw0KpxcOUkbxk3MNYP_mhyphenhyphenyx0jM94ErKz4H8vEIif/s200/Battle_Buddy-SJD_Peterson200x300.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Shane Tucker joined the Army to hide behind "Don't Ask, Don't Tell".
It was working too, until he was paired with sexy Owen Bradford as his
Battle Buddy. If boot camp doesn't kill him, the temptation of Owen's
sinful body surely will.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
Shane Tucker joins Uncle Sam's Army at nineteen. Tucker is gay, but not
ready to be open about his orientation and "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"
seems like a convenient way to avoid having to dealing with his
sexuality.<br />
<br />
The Army suits Tucker; he does well right from the beginning. Things
get harder for Tucker during boot camp when he is assigned a "Battle
Buddy". Owen Bradford is a walking, talking wet dream, with no concept
of personal space--he especially likes being in Tucker's personal space.
Tucker barely survives boot camp living with the constant temptation
that is Owen Bradford.<br />
<br />
Two years later, Tucker--now in the Army Ranger program--is paired up
with Owen once again. Getting through training while ignoring the
sizzling sexual tension between him and his "Battle Buddy" might be the
biggest test of Tucker's military career.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Get your copy <a href="https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/glbt-contemporary-c-53_54/products_id/806/" target="_blank">HERE</a></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-5132449663126559952012-11-04T05:47:00.000-08:002012-11-04T05:47:15.154-08:00Beyond Duty - More Photos of Mac & Gunny<div style="text-align: center;">
The goodreads M/M Romance group did there annual group anthology, This year the event was called, "Love is Always Write." I searched through the photos and letters and found this photo posted by Virginia:</div>
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asking that their story be told. I fell in love with the photo and was lucky enough that no one had chosen it and Mac & Gunny's story was told in Beyond Duty. I recently found some more photos of Bo Ladashevska (the one facing us) and Guy Primeau and had to share. (The site gives permission to post them and you can check it out <a href="http://www.m2minfocentre.com/free-sexy-downloads.php" target="_blank">HERE</a>)<br />
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I hadn't seen these photos until just recently but now that I have, I'm shocked at how well they work with the story I told and shows Bo aka "Gunny" as the submissive. I can't think Virginia enough for inspiring Beyond Duty and a HUGE thank you to all those who have read and rated "Beyond Duty" on All Romance Ebooks. Five months after it was published it's still listed in the top 5 highest rated BDSM books. Thank you! <br />
(If you haven't read it you can check it out <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-beyondduty-820729-145.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> for free)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-44760091513294950522012-11-03T11:27:00.001-07:002012-11-03T11:28:39.344-07:00Micah aka "PUP" The story I am writing for NaNoWriMo is entitled "PUP" and is the first book in the Guarding Folsom series. A spin off based on Ty & Blake's life and friends in New York. I'm right on track with the word count which is awesome and now I have found my PUP What do you think?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX9BWr95LjkH8NFNM34iC_BVd-UEWa-VJqB3-ns742Gdpxh3QLPSH8p37oo6EznofhWnvuwIvXs-DvKp1VCHBgYFwi2noMH2EF7S-fWIJN17yhKSNkKEIz8s128xX6dVP-CVW371urDhg/s1600/Mario-Blanco-by-Shadtoto-Prasetio-MaleModelSceneNet-04a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX9BWr95LjkH8NFNM34iC_BVd-UEWa-VJqB3-ns742Gdpxh3QLPSH8p37oo6EznofhWnvuwIvXs-DvKp1VCHBgYFwi2noMH2EF7S-fWIJN17yhKSNkKEIz8s128xX6dVP-CVW371urDhg/s320/Mario-Blanco-by-Shadtoto-Prasetio-MaleModelSceneNet-04a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mario Blanco is my inspiration for Micah</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At time's he looks so sweet and innocent, the perfect little "sub" boy</div>
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But beneath that sweet and innocent exterior. MY OH MY has he grown into a very naughty "PUP"</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-19272855767170642952012-11-02T02:49:00.000-07:002012-11-02T03:10:05.022-07:003 weeks till Tuck & Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled </i>Battle Buddy<i>. Some of the events he didn't get exactly right. Here's the way I remember it going down. </i><br />
<br />
You may have heard the story of my time in boot camp and Ranger School in Shane Tucker's published diary entitled <i>Battle Buddy</i>,
but he didn't get all the details exactly right. Tuck will argue the
point; but I assure you, a few facts he definitely got wrong. I don't
blame him or claim that he lied intentionally. At the time he was, if
you remember, a little sexually frustrated; and it may have skewed his
thinking just a wee bit. To this day, I still tease him about it. This
is my take on our wild and crazy ride.<br />
"Rangers Lead The Way!"<br />
Owen<br />
<br />
AUTHOR'S ADVISORY: This book contains Badass Army Rangers having hot sex!<br />
<br />
Available November 24th. Now available for <a href="https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/products_id/1309/?zenid=ae2c6e7063feb0e1c72b02a1277dac77" target="_blank">PRE-ORDER HERE</a> <br />
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Sneak Peek Excerpt:</div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter
One</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Sua Sponte<b>, </b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Latin for "of their own
accord" <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">were my first spoken words.
At least they were if you believe Col. Robert Owen Bradford II. I'm more
inclined to agree with my mom who swears my first words were probably "mama</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> or </span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dada</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">, but it really
is quite pointless to argue with the Colonel. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Being the only son of Robert and Sally Bradford, I've been conditioned
since birth to become the next in a long line of men to serve in the United
States Army, more specifically as an Army Ranger. My father and his father
before him were both members of this illustrious group of soldiers, and I was
expected to<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">strive for and reach no less of an
achievement<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">,</i></span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> in the words of dear, old dad. Try growing
up with those expectations. Worse yet, try being reminded each time Grandpa
Bradford came over that, </span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Owen,
it's your legacy. I was part of the assault landing on the Dog White sector of
Omaha beach in 1944<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i></span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> By the age of five, I knew the drill when he
would ask me, "What outfit is this<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">?</i>"
To which I would reply, "Fifth Rangers, sir."</span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Well, goddammit,
if you're Rangers, lead the way!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Now, having a grandpa
that was present at the birth of the Ranger motto is a hell of a big set of
combat boots to follow. For me personally, with grandpa having dinner with us
weekly, by the age of twelve I was beyond bored with it; but I was, and am, going
to do my best to fill those boots.<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I'm not an only child. I have two sisters: Jenny, who is two years older
than I am, and Megan, three years younger. However, in the Colonel's eyes, they
have less <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">value</i>. Not that my father
is a bad husband to my mother or even a bad father to my sisters; but like
those from a time gone by, the Colonel believes that, while a woman is to be
honored, loved, and protected, it is the male child that is the coveted prize
or attestation of his manhood. More specifically, the son has the honor of
carrying on his father's legacy. I have the added burden of being a second son
and my dad's last hope of carrying on the tradition. The firstborn would be my
brother, Robert Owen Bradford III. He died from a heart defect when he was only
a few hours old. Hence the simplicity of my name: Owen no-middle-name Bradford.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I knew exactly what I was in for when I arrived at the Harmony Church
area of Fort Benning, Georgia. Where Tuck got the bright idea to join the Army
when he turned nineteen and spent a couple of months training to prepare for
his journey, I joined at twenty with twenty years of training. For me, the only
thing I wasn't prepared for was my reaction to a six foot, two inch, one-hundred-seventy
pound teenager. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Leaning against the wall and running a hand over my new buzz cut, the
short lengths tickling against my palm, I looked up and froze. Like dead-fucking-froze,
hand on my head, mouth gaping open, and body tensing pleasantly when I spotted the
sexiest man I'd ever seen as he stood in line waiting for his turn in the
barber's chair. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Well hello, soldier,</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> I muttered under my breath, careful not to
be heard.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Head full of shaggy brown hair, Tuck had that dumbfounded look that the
majority of the other recruits were sporting. The look of docility on the man's
face definitely called to my more dominant side. The moment I got a glimpse of
eyes so fucking blue they looked like dark sapphires and a face that seemed to
take every facial feature I'd found attractive and placed them together in one
perfect piece of work, I was captivated. When my eyes wandered down that lean,
muscular body to a gloriously tight, round ass, I knew I had to have some of
that. I caught a few other glimpses of Tuck while we were stuck in the reception
battalion, better known as Purgatory, but I never got a chance to talk with him—feel
him out, so to speak. But, I kept my eye on him. Tuck is one of those people
you can't help but stare at. I spent the next two weeks watching and waiting
for my opening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">It was on that first day of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">real</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> training—right after a period in The Reception Battalion, aka Purgatory—
that I happened to be standing in the yard and, therefore, watching as the
Sergeant stomped up to Tuck—who was the last off the bus—and screamed, </span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Are you always this goddamn slow, Private?</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">No, Sir,</span>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> Tuck responded in confusion, looking around the yard.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Oh, shit! The man obviously hadn't seen too many military movies, since
even films make jokes about calling a sergeant, sir. I just shook my head and
did my best to hide my smile. I mean, really, who hasn't seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stripes</i>?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">"Sir?" the sergeant roared. "I work for a living, boy! You
call me Sergeant Croft."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Tuck then made the classic mistake of meeting the Sergeant's eyes, and I
coughed to cover my laughter but was obviously unsuccessful. I received a brief
death glare from Tuck just as Croft got in his face and went off on an
impressive rant about eyeballing. I figured it was my lack of sympathy at Tuck's
discomfort, or maybe the snort that snuck out of me, that set the tone for
further interactions between us. Tuck never stopped glaring at me or doing his
best to avoid any interaction with me. His dismissal of me only fueled my
desire to want to fuck with him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I finally got my chance during the final week of Phase I when those
glorious words were uttered by Sergeant Croft while assigning Battle Buddies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“Bradford with Tucker.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Tuck's eyes were wide; sweat glistened on his brow in the early morning
sun. His hand trembled as he scrubbed it across his face. I watched, curious,
as his shocked blue eyes wandered down my body and back up. Heat infused me at
the lust obvious when our eyes met once again. It gave me all the encouragement
I needed. I'm cocky and tenacious when I want something. I don't go after the
impossible, but I also knew I wasn't the only one affected.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The way Tuck tells it when I was assigned as his Battle Buddy he set out
to fuck up more than usual just to piss me off. Ah, no, that isn't how it went
down. When our names were called out together, it was all the proof I needed
that first, the curse my ex-fuck Kyle had tried to voodoo on me which involved
bad karma following me for dumping him, hadn't worked. We screwed twice, for
Christ's sake, both times in a bathroom stall; and he started talking about
picking out curtains. Yeah, Kyle's curses were about as potent as his sexual
charms. Secondly, and more importantly, when my name was called along with Tuck's,
it was like a sign from the higher-ups that they were answering the little
prayer I'd said involving me, locked doors, lube, and Pvt. Shane Tucker. From
that moment forward, I added a new goal to my life. Not only would I become a Ranger;
come hell or high water, I was tapping Tuck’s ass.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The funny thing about Tuck is he thought I was straight when he first met
me. I've known since I was young that I was gay, but by the time I figured it
out, my whole life was already planned. The military has no place for 'mos—homosexuals—and
I wasn't about to disappoint my grandfather, father, or myself, for that matter.
I wanted to be a Ranger as much as my father wanted me to be one. I had tried
to go the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">straight</i> route, even dated
a girl in high school; and before you ask, yes, we had sex. I know your second
question is going to be, "Did you enjoy it?"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, my answer is
yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the record, that doesn't make
me bisexual; it makes me experimental. Once. Now, men? I experimented with men—a
lot. I am not confused, I haven't a shred of doubt that I'm gay, but I'm also a
member of the Unites States Army and damn proud of that fact. I don't pretend
to be something I'm not. I am cocksure and arrogant as hell—and pure-fucking-manly.
The only thing I hid was who I slept with. I wasn't looking to settle down, get
married, and buy a dog. Therefore, why would I let who I slept with keep me
from my dream? I wouldn't. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">They didn't ask, and I didn't tell.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-33242528525108139182012-10-31T06:17:00.001-07:002012-11-01T09:04:17.544-07:00Count down to NaNoWriMoToday I'll be plotting and planning my novel for NaNoWriMo "Pup" only 15 more hours and I'm already itching to play with Tackett and Micah!! Just have to get through the hell of trick or treat then I'll be good to go!!<br />
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Happy Halloween Everyone!!</div>
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Enjoy and stay safe</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">~Hugs~</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jo </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVDPs-bFLoUckVd8fHE4VnauHtgPYGdSz2Yt3s-HLLO0elH4N_4JHflNifiktI6YBSclI8MfW1E4rmzdcolyEYNBFpDBUTSojXdKb5F9zASZ1XjK9T-Y6FxiFI_1M-FG7HUKOBEitVLTZ/s1600/6a00d8341c2f0953ef012876b33129970c-500wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVDPs-bFLoUckVd8fHE4VnauHtgPYGdSz2Yt3s-HLLO0elH4N_4JHflNifiktI6YBSclI8MfW1E4rmzdcolyEYNBFpDBUTSojXdKb5F9zASZ1XjK9T-Y6FxiFI_1M-FG7HUKOBEitVLTZ/s320/6a00d8341c2f0953ef012876b33129970c-500wi.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707662797843792215.post-59596353888376596642012-10-28T09:22:00.001-07:002012-10-28T09:22:53.270-07:00Ty & Blake have their series!!!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uuLcjQrI1i3Wz1vQ0U6kwXU8mU2ZtLYd2i3R4N36igF5JVsnxIvM6TQ28_jm074QM20wNrtF7eGiDNHQa952okVThK6LI7Dg_JWEpSz5_ZYC_BgZFFoBZeS6Eqk-XHacGW3EV13DwukN/s1600/RIVETED+Medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uuLcjQrI1i3Wz1vQ0U6kwXU8mU2ZtLYd2i3R4N36igF5JVsnxIvM6TQ28_jm074QM20wNrtF7eGiDNHQa952okVThK6LI7Dg_JWEpSz5_ZYC_BgZFFoBZeS6Eqk-XHacGW3EV13DwukN/s320/RIVETED+Medium.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A FREE short story coming December 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yesterday I spent some time with my good friend S.A. McAuley and we talked about Ty, Blake and their series. She and Tj Klune started tossing names back and forth and thanks to the two of them we now have a series name.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Guards of Folsom</span></div>
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Given Blake's past history and what happened to Eli, it's only natural that the club he is associated with caters more to the protection of the sub rather than the Dom hence the name. While sometimes scenes can seem harsh to outsiders, Blake at his core, sees subs as precious, to be celebrated, protected and loved. </div>
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Book one will be entitled "Pup" the story of an older Dom who finds himself taming a naughty pup.</div>
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Book two will be entitled "Tag Team" This is the story of Jase, Bobby and Rig.</div>
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That's all I have planned...so far.... but I do believe that Aiden James will be making an appearance at some point in the series. I'm very curious about that man :) </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_aiuvsGWjLPEJbQmPfppplgHAlPq6e6JuiBq0aXuJPGIn9ZfyhvVA2w2teLqD46Bmaef1m1C5jnUEna8N6JWc8zYsPsssKj-JRRpfkT2nCRDsmg7oe9_8LjTiLuhIU7EpinWBUHzkbY/s1600/Modified_Confused_Smiley_by_Prince_of_Powerpoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_aiuvsGWjLPEJbQmPfppplgHAlPq6e6JuiBq0aXuJPGIn9ZfyhvVA2w2teLqD46Bmaef1m1C5jnUEna8N6JWc8zYsPsssKj-JRRpfkT2nCRDsmg7oe9_8LjTiLuhIU7EpinWBUHzkbY/s320/Modified_Confused_Smiley_by_Prince_of_Powerpoint.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sometimes I have to shake my head at some of the crap I do. Once the name for the new series was settled, I then had a conversation with someone I've never met, in public, on speaker phone about riveting, total sensory deprivation and spanking benches. Yes I am nuts and yes I take my research very seriously :)<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">~Hugs~</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jo</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09777537280889315995noreply@blogger.com4