Monday, August 31, 2009


By Michelle Cary & Amanda Young

Walking away from the world's oldest profession was the easiest thing Cyndi Whitmore ever did. After five long years of selling her body to men, she vowed never to look back. Now, eighteen months later, her former "friends" are turning up dead and all fingers point to her as the murderer.

As if being framed isn't bad enough, her sudden attraction to the deputy working the "hooker murders" has her head spinning with confusion. Conditioned to be suspicious of the law, Cyndi finds herself torn between heart and mind when the sexy deputy is interested in her as more than just a suspect. If she has any hope of clearing her name, Cyndi knows she must overcome her fear and trust the only person willing to believe in her innocence.

Deputy Braden Andrews never expected to be dealt the task of catching a serial killer when he accepted the deputy sheriff's position in his small Nevada town. Nor did he expect his prime suspect to be a beautiful, alluring woman with a checkered past and secrets to hide. Braden works to gain Cyndi's trust in an attempt to pump her for information, knowing that she holds something important about the case. Instead, he falls hard for the auburn beauty. Despite his growing love for her, he quickly realizes there's a better than average chance she's being framed. But can he prove Cyndi's innocence before the killer strikes again?

In related news, the body of a young woman was discovered by passing motorists along Highway 160 last night, outside of Pahrump near the Nye-Clark County border.
The news anchor's announcement caught Cyndi's attention. She looked up at the TV screen. A picture of the highway where the body had been found—a slash of blacktop and speeding vehicles, surrounded by barren desert—was quickly replaced by a close-up of the newscaster's leathery face. The brothel where Cyndi had spent a chunk of her life was nestled along a side road not far from where Highway 160 met the county border. That spot was twenty miles from where she now resided.
The roaring rush of her pulse swirled and drowned out the room around her, until all she could see or hear was the broadcast.
The victim was identified this morning as twenty-nine-year-old Tracy Jones, reported missing earlier in the month. Although police have reported the cause of death as manual strangulation, they will not yet comment on whether there are any suspects at this time. Stay tuned to WBNC for breaking news.
Cyndi didn't know how to feel or what to think. Jesus. She hadn't seen Tracy—or any of her old friends from before—in almost two years. Not since she'd fled her shady past. That, however, didn't prevent sadness from welling up inside her now. Time and distance dropped away and returned her to the good times, few and far between though they were, and reminded her of the woman she'd once been close to.
Now her friend was gone, dead. Reduced to a crime statistic by a TV personality. Almost worse was the fact that she couldn't share her grief with her friends or her fiancé. Talking about it, associating herself with anyone from her past, would be too risky. She'd worked too hard, for too long, making a new life for herself to risk having it blow up in her face now.
Suddenly, Cyndi needed to get out of the tavern, to get some fresh air and time alone with her thoughts. She scooted to the end of the booth, snatched her purse, and stood. "I have to go."
Heather grabbed her hand, forestalling her departure. "I'm sorry, Cyndi. If it's something I said…"
"No, don't be silly. I, um…" Crap, she couldn't think of a good excuse. She'd never been good at lying. Cyndi avoided Heather's eyes. "I just remembered something I forgot to do earlier, is all." She reached into her purse, snagged her key ring, and grabbed her wallet. She quickly plucked out a few twenties and threw them on the table. "Here, have lunch on me and enjoy yourself. I'll call you later. Okay?"
Cyndi didn't wait for a reply. She couldn't. A building sense of dread boiled in the pit of her stomach. Later, she'd apologize to her friend for running out on her, but for now, Cyndi just needed to go.
She hustled out of the tavern and into the hot midday sun. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, she welcomed the heat beating down on her head and shoulders, warming her on the outside, but unable to touch the thick layer of ice over her heart.
What was happening? Tracy was the second of Cyndi's old friends to be murdered in the last few months. Kathryn's body had been dumped along Highway 160, also…ten miles west of Pahrump. Was it a warped coincidence that the bodies of both friends had been found along the same stretch of road? She couldn't bring herself to believe that notion. Yet, something sinister was going on. Something related to…
No, she couldn't think about that night. Nothing had happened.
A black SUV zoomed past her, kicking up dirt in its wake. A hot ball of dusty air and exhaust punched her in the face. The noxious fumes choked her, yanking her out of the doldrums. She wondered how much time had passed while she'd been lost in thought, staring into outer space.
Keys in hand, she jogged down the narrow alley between two brick buildings. Unable to find a parking spot on Main Street upon arriving at the tavern, she'd chosen to park in the rear. Now, she was anxious to be inside her car and on her way. A long drive, the music blaring through the speakers loud enough to drown out her thoughts, sounded like the best idea she'd had in a long time.
She reached the side of the building, expecting to see her blue Camry parked next to the dirty green dumpster, and found a large silver truck obstructing her view of the car. She walked around the long truck bed. Sure enough, squished between the truck and dumpster, was her car. She glared at the truck, which was positioned so close to her Camry she estimated there to be about six inches between the two.
Cyndi groaned. It was going to be fun squeezing her big butt through such a small space. A glance at the passenger side revealed a little more room, possibly a foot or so, between the dumpster and the door. Maybe she would have better luck entering her car on that side. She could always crawl over the console and break her neck in the process. That would be the perfect ending for her day.
With a huff, she tromped around her car and sidled to the door. She unlocked it and gently pulled it open, careful of the paint. It was already faded in spots from the sun. Putting a long scratch down the side wouldn't help its appearance.
A shadow fell over the area in which she stood. She looked up, wondering if it was going to shower, and saw only clear blue sky.
Rough hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. A shock ran down her spine.
She tried to turn and see who was behind her, to pull away, but it was no use. A calloused palm, ripe with the putrid smell of old cigarettes and gasoline, covered her mouth. At the same time, a bare arm, thickly corded with muscle, wrapped around her chest beneath her breasts, pinned one of her arms to her side, and held onto the wrist of her other arm.
Cyndi struggled against the man only to feel his grip tighten, like a band of iron, constricting her every move.
Random snatches from various martial arts classes she'd taken flitted through her mind. The scant images were useless. She panicked and began to hyperventilate, jerking wildly against her captor.
The hand spanning the lower half of her face clenched, the individual fingers biting into her skin. Cyndi winced and froze, her eyes filling with tears.
"Don't do this," she tried to say, only to have the words come out as little more than incomprehensible garble. She wanted to ask why. Why her and why now, just when she'd gotten her act together and was straightening out her life?
Rank air fanned the side of her face and neck. Slimy, wet heat licked a path up her cheek. "Give in, and I'll go easy on you. Put you down quick like those bitches you were friends with. Fight me, and I'll make your end slow and painful, until you'll wish you were dead."

Thursday, August 27, 2009

The Wedding Planner by G.A. Hauser


Though he was engaged to be married, handsome, thirty-year old stockbroker Jordon Buck never believed in the fairy tale romances or being ‘head over heels’ in love. Gorgeous, gay, twenty-eight year old, Tyler Holliday wasn’t keen on his current career as a wedding planner. Tyler aspired for something greater, but a ghost from his youth haunted him. The day he met Jordon Buck and Fawn Lea to help them plan the big event, fate met up with Tyler Holliday.
In the middle of a Manhattan summer, the two men become friends, and then something happens between them to change them forever. A four letter word called ‘Love’.


Alexa Snow, author of Clear Cut and Sleeping Stone, writes:
Jordon Buck is a straight man planning his wedding to the beautiful if slightly self-involved Fawn. When Fawn's mother makes an appointment for them to meet with Tyler Holliday, gay wedding planner extraordinaire, Jordon thinks nothing of it -- that is, until he comes face to face with said Mr. Holliday, a stunning example of a man. But Jordon is straight! He's getting married, and that proves it... doesn't it? But if that's the case, why can't he stop thinking about Tyler?
The Wedding Planner is a delightful novel from start to finish. The dialogue is both realistic and often edged with a sense of humor sure to make the reader smile, and all of the characters are charming. The two main characters, in particular, interact in many wonderful ways that aren't limited to the bedroom -- and, in fact, the unresolved sexual tension is drawn out to startling heights, which makes for a particularly delicious read. This is a story that's very erotic, but there's a lot more to it than the erotica -- at the core, it's a *love* story, and readers who want to rediscover what that means would be well advised to snap it up as soon as possible!


“I recommend mutual funds; forget commodities at the moment.” Jordon Buck tapped the keys on his computer, speaking into a telephone headset.
“The market is so volatile, Jordon. I don’t know what the hell to do.”
“Don’t buy gold or any commodities now. They've hit their peak,” Jordon replied, catching someone stepping into his office. He smiled at Adrian Tripp and signaled one minute to him. “Look, Harry, let me spend some time on this for you. I have a feeling the Big Board is in for a boost since the Feds have opened the Reserve.”
“Fine, Jordon. Just get back to me when you have an idea of what I should do.”
“No problem.” Jordon disconnected the call and smiled at the handsome, well-dressed man standing in his office. “Mr. Tripp, what can I do for you?”
Adrian sat seductively on the corner of Jordon’s desk. “You can admit you’re bi-curious and come out with me for a drink.”
Laughing softly, feeling his cheeks blush, Jordon replied, “I am not bi-curious, Adrian. I thought you and Brock Hart had a little ‘thing’ going.”
Ever since he met Daniel Wolf, Brock’s been off the market.”
“Oh? No more playing with him?” Jordon knew Adrian and Brock exchanged blowjobs weekly. Adrian made sure Jordon was aware, as if it would tempt him to the “dark side.”
“No. He’s gone exclusive on me. And since he’s quit work to travel the world, I’m seeking out a new friend with benefits.” Adrian gave Jordon’s crotch a good look.
Jordon covered his nuts in response. “Speaking about going exclusive, Mr. Tripp, I’m engaged and about to tie the knot.”
“Noose, you mean?”
“It’s not a noose if you love the woman.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Are you telling me there’re no other guys around here that want their dick sucked by a handsome millionaire?”
“Of course there are, Jordon. Plenty of men would kill for it. I just have champagne tastes.” Adrian licked his top lip seductively.
“I don’t know whether to be petrified or flattered.” Jordon smiled shyly.
“Be flattered, you gorgeous hunk. Your…What’s her name?”
“Fawn.” Jordon chuckled.
“Right. Fawn,” Adrian rolled his eyes, “must be very proud of herself for netting a man like you.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than seduce a straight guy?” Jordon loved it. It was fun to tease Adrian. The man was adorable and filthy rich. It had to be a compliment to even be in his sights. “A straight guy who’s in the midst of planning his wedding?”
“If I were able to get into your pants, Mr. Buck, I would consider it a triumph.”

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Going Deep by G.A. Hauser


Dylan Conway thought he had a chance at the big leagues when a pro football scout invited him to try out for the team. After a successful college career, Dylan figured it was a sure thing.

It wasn’t.

With his dream of playing pro ball shattered, Dylan takes a job in LA delivering pizza until he can figure out a new direction for his life. What he doesn’t expect is to be propositioned at every delivery, and to his amazement, he’s asked to work for a photographer of male nudes. He accepts, and begins his journey into a deeper, darker industry.

Sean Dean, AKA ‘Rippin Long’, is tired of working as a gay porn star. For seven long years he was the top earner for Tartarus Studios, but now he’s sick and tired of the demands. He yearns for a real life and respectable work.

But even the jaded Rippin Long is stunned to see the latest addition to the Tartarus studios stable of stars: The delectable Dylan Conway. To make matters worse, Dylan makes no effort to hide his instant attraction to Tartarus’ prized stud, and he’s after more than sex. Dylan wants a ‘relationship’, something Sean has avoided after continuously being idolized as the porn star, and not the human being behind the façade.

One man jaded and at the end of his porn career, the other fresh and just beginning a new life in the industry—the possibility for any kind of future between the two seems daunting. Yet, the two men collide on set, burning up the screen like no other men before them. Could there be a chance for a real bond between them? With faith, hope and a little help from karma, could true love bloom from what was once two broken lives?


“Dylan, these are ready to go.”

“Thanks, Carlos.” Wiping the sweat from his face from the LA heat, Dylan Conway checked the addresses for his pizza deliveries. With the list in his hand, he shouldered the hot boxes and left through the back door of the restaurant to his little pizza truck. Loading the pizzas into the tiny insulated crate in the back, Dylan mapped out his route.

A frown imprinted on his face, he drove through the traffic snarls. I’m delivering fucking pizza for a living Fucking twenty-five years old and delivering pizza.

He chided himself, “Four fucking years in college at Iowa State for what? Fucking driving a goddamn pizza truck in Los Angeles. So much for a football scholarship.”

Checking the time, Dylan ran his hand through his thick brown hair and peeked at his green eyes in the rear view mirror. “Fuck!” he shouted, slamming his hand onto the steering wheel in frustration when the cars slowed to a stop along Ventura Boulevard.

“Here’s the star quarterback for Iowa State University, sitting in traffic with four boxes of pizza to deliver,” he scoffed at himself. “Aren’t I proud?”

He knew the bachelor’s degree would be worthless. It hadn’t trained him for a thing. Did he really imagine he’d be selected to play pro ball for the Oakland Raiders?

“Me and my bright ideas. Come out to California!” he mocked himself. “Go talk to the managers of the football teams. Sure, Dylan. Sure.”

The traffic finally moved.

“Here I am. The famous professional pizza boy.”

Finally the first address came into view. Dylan climbed out of the car, shut the driver’s side door and retrieved the boxes out of the back, jogging up the front pathway. Once he knocked, he could hear women’s voices from behind the door. It swung open in front of him.

“Hi. Pizza delivery.” He shifted the boxes in his hands.

“Wow! Hey, girls! Check out the cute pizza guy!” she shouted over her shoulder as she opened the door wider.

His cheeks went crimson as five twenty-something females raced over to stare at him.

“Uh…twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents, please.” He handed over the pizzas, dying of embarrassment. He felt like a loser. Was this the pinnacle of what he could expect of his career? ‘Cute pizza guy?’ What a fucking life.

“Here. Here’s thirty. Keep the change, hot stuff.” The woman who opened the door smiled flirtatiously at him.

“Too bad he’s not a strip-o-gram!” Dylan heard shouted from another woman behind the first.

“Thanks. See ya.” He forced a smile and left, putting the money into a vinyl wallet and stuffing it in his pocket.

Once he was behind the wheel, he looked back at the door to their house. No one was left staring any longer. Rubbing his forehead, and cranking up the air conditioning in the truck, he checked the next address and prayed the traffic had let up.

Pulling up to a hair salon, Dylan parked illegally and hustled to get the next two pizzas delivered before the ubiquitous parking enforcement officers gave him a ticket.

Rushing in, he met the receptionist. “Hey. You guys order pizzas?”

“Yes.” She shouted to someone in the salon, “Larry! The pizza is here.”

Still holding the hot boxes, Dylan watched a very effeminate man skipping toward him with multi-colored hair, makeup on his face, and strung beads and bangles over his camp outfit. Larry made an exaggerated gesture of shock when he stood before Dylan. “De-lish!”

“Uh…twenty-eight dollars and thirty-five cents, please.” Dylan lowered his eyelashes shyly.

“Put them right there, honey.” Larry patted the receptionist counter.

Dylan set them down, avoiding the man’s bold stare.

When two twenty dollar bills were assertively tucked into the waist of Dylan’s jeans, he jumped in surprise and looked down at the man’s hand. “Jesus!”

“Keep the change.” Larry pursed his lips at him. “And come back soon. I’d love to get my hands into your err…hair.”

After taking a quick peek at the receptionist’s smirk, Dylan retreated, removing the money from his pants and sticking it into the wallet. Before he could even absorb the shock of the incident, he shouted in anger and raced to where a parking enforcement officer had just pulled up behind his truck. “Wait!”

The minute she raised her head to meet his eye, her snarl turned into a flirtatious smile. “Is this your truck?”

“Sorry. I just had to drop off some pizzas. I’m moving it. Sorry.”

Flipping her ticket book back into her Honda Civic, she smiled. “Okay. Just move it along.”

“Thanks. Honest. I appreciate it.” He quickly got into the truck.

She wagged a finger at him playfully. “You just better not do it again, or else.”


She winked and walked back to her car.

“Shit, that was close.” He signaled and merged into traffic, headed back to the restaurant for more orders.

* * * *

By ten p.m. he was exhausted. Fridays and Saturdays were the worst because of the late shift. At least he could sleep in the next morning and didn’t have to be back at work until one in the afternoon.

Coming through the door of his one bedroom furnished apartment in Los Feliz, he kicked off his shoes and socks, craving a shower to rid the smell of pizza from his clothing, hair and skin.

As he passed through his bedroom, he checked his answering machine. No messages.

Tossing his clothing into a hamper, Dylan stood near the tub waiting for the water to heat up, trying to make sense of his life. Finally under the refreshing spray, he scrubbed the aroma of food off his body, inhaling the musky scent of his shampoo in relief.

Once he had dried off and thrown on a pair of shorts, Dylan stood in the kitchen cutting up a salad for dinner. The last thing he wanted was pizza.



Leo discovers swinging isn't the same thing as love.

He kissed Aaron before the door was fully closed, flattened him against it as he engaged the lock, and frantically began to grind against him. "Are you sure?" he asked, not certain what he would say if the response was negative. Leo usually trusted his instincts about fuckable men. He reached between them to grip the other man though his pants and was inspired by the unyielding stiffness. He traced the length of Aaron's cock with one finger and roughly kissed him again. "Yeah, you're sure," he decided.

Either Aaron was a bit shy or Leo's dominating physical appearance and character had completely overwhelmed him. Leo and his twin brother, Pan, were regionally popular professional wrestlers and often encountered awed fans so he had learned to simply take charge in situations like this. A natural-born leader, Leo was good at easing tense situations. He was also proficient in escalating a confrontation when his temper flared, but that would not be a problem today.

Lips trembling, Aaron managed a short nod of eager consent so his host, who towered over him and outweighed him by at least seventy pounds, scooped him up and carried him into the bedroom. Depositing him on the bed, he rummaged through the dresser drawers until he found lube and a condom.

Aaron sat up and kicked off his shoes, leaned down to peel off his socks and quickly shucked his jeans. By the time Leo returned to the bed and began to undress, his guest was completely nude. His pale body was accentuated by the outline of a perfect ribcage that showed through lean muscle, slightly concave abs and a runner's ass. He looked good enough to eat.

"I like your style," Aaron murmured as Leo's more heavily muscled body was speedily unveiled before him.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009



In the continuation of Blood Eclipse, Rory finds himself hopelessly enamored with Carden and will
finally experience the rapture of loving a pure blood vampire. But there are those who are determined to
have Carden at all costs to satisfy their own self interest, and they won’t let anyone get in their way.

Carden still seeks the truth of what happened to his parents long ago, and he won’t rest until he finds
the answers. And when the discovery is made, and shocking secrets are revealed, all hell breaks loose
as Carden sets his sights on vengeance. And suddenly the fragility between good and evil will be blown
wide open.

Carden looked at him from over his shoulder. “Human life is precious. You should take more care
with it. You don’t want to get too close to me, I’m dangerous.”
“Then do as you said you would, and release me from this spell you say you have me under. Or
maybe you enjoy this kind of thing, the great and mighty vampire torturing us poor, unworthy mortal
“You think I’m having a good laugh at your expense?”
Rory picked up his pants and held them in front of him. “What would you have me believe? I come
here thinking that something in the way you kissed me told me you wanted me, and you send me
away like I’m some serf? Go now! Do you want money, is that it? Do I have to pay like everyone
else?” God, I’m so horny and pathetic and he’s standing there without anything on torturing me. I’m
insane, what am I doing here with a vampire?
Carden reached for his robe. He’d never been modest, and sometimes he was unaware of the effect
his nudity had on mortals. He put on the robe and tied it. Whoever it was who was nearby hadn’t
gone anywhere. He could still sense them. If he thought it safe to let Rory go, he would have sought
the mortal out, but he couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t play with Rory’s life.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Carden walked over and closed his bedroom door, turning the lock. He wasn’t sure that would keep
it out, but he knew now for sure he couldn’t let Rory leave here until he knew the threat had passed.
“What are you doing?” Rory demanded anxiously.
Carden came and stood in front of him, looking down at his face. He put his hands on Rory’s
shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rory, but I can’t let you leave here.”
“What? First you tell me to leave, now you…” Rory backed away from him.
“Oh Rory, don’t, don’t fear me, please.”
“What’s happening?” Rory asked him, looking around the room, watching as Carden walked over
and closed the balcony doors. “What are you afraid of? Is it Blane?”
“No,” Carden said, “It isn’t Blane.” He went to touch him, but Rory moved out of his reach.
“What is this, Carden? Talk to me.”
“I’m not going to drink your blood, Rory,” he snapped. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re
safe with me.”
“Why did you lure me here?”
“I didn’t lure you anywhere,” he sighed. “And it looks like if there was a spell, it’s worn off now.”
“Why would you cast a spell on me in the first place?” Rory glanced at the door.
“Maybe I like pretty boys who don’t understand me.”
“Are you trying to be cute?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” He stiffened suddenly, stood. “And don’t think of making a run for it, I’m ten
times faster than you.”
“Carden, what is going…?”
He put up a hand suddenly, placing a finger to his lips. He moved closer to the door.
Rory fell quiet, his eyes narrowing.
After a few minutes, Carden seemed to relax. He walked over and opened the door again. “It’s gone,’
he said without emotion. “You can go now.” He opened the robe and let it slip to the floor.
Rory was looking at him. “Have you ever used your body to torture a man to death before, Carden, or
am I your first victim?”
“Rory,” he said. “I told you, I’ve taken off the spell.” He quickly picked up the robe and put it back on.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Rory shook his head, dropped the pants he was holding, and moved in his direction. “There was
never any spell. You lied to me and I don’t know why. And if you’d wanted to kill me, I’d already be
dead. What are you afraid of?”
“It’s supposed to work the other way around, isn’t it?” he asked.
Rory moved closer again, and Carden backed up with each step Rory took. Now, he was standing
with his back against the wall. “Imagine that,” Rory smiled, “the vampire afraid of me.”
Carden didn’t say anything. He let his head lull to one side, watching Rory silently.

Diamond in the Shade 2 by D.J. MANLY

COMING SOON FROM Liquid Silver Books

Diamond in the Shade 2

Diamond and Shade
are still together trying to manage their relationship when suddenly there is
a vampire running wild, killing his victims, and leaving them everywhere. That is strange enough, but
what is even stranger, he seems to be a Destroyer, and he is connected to Shade


He agonized over where he and Sebastian would end up. He’d never been in love before, and on top of
that, loving a vampire wasn’t exactly easy. Although Shade had never bitten him, sometimes in
moments of passion, Sebastian had to take a moment to recover from the desire to feed off of him. And
the sex, incredible as it may have been was hopelessly one sided. He couldn’t even hope to give
Sebastian what Sebastian gave him in bed. He worried that Sebastian was left unsatisfied but then
again, he had to remember that Shade had spent many years in Tanus’s bed, a mortal like himself.
Maybe Shade found his sexual satisfaction elsewhere, with some other vampire. He sighed, deciding to
put it out of his mind. They had bigger problems right now, a destroyer gone crazy, possibility even an
immortal one. He wasn’t yet convinced that it was a destroyer, not an authentic one anyway. He’d never
heard of a destroyer losing it like that, and this immortal bit. It didn’t seem plausible.
He got up from where he sat near the window and walked over to the bed. He leaned down and kissed
Sebastian’s cool lips. He took a long, hot shower and contemplated going over to see Richard, his
overseer here in the city. It had been awhile.
There was no one around when he wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. He made himself some
toast and scrambled eggs and wolfed them down at the table. Everyone had a bedroom down here in
the back. Although he wasn’t sure who slept where. Wik slept in the traditional coffin, exclaiming that it
was classy.
A half hour later, he was ringing Richard’s doorbell.
“Diamond,” he said, opening the door, “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you. I was just about to call.”
“Any new information we can use?”
“Deb was here last night and I think we found something.”
“Deb eh?”
“No comments. It was working evening.”
“Yeah, okay,” Diamond smiled.
“How’s your vampire boyfriend?”
“He’s fine. How else would he be? It’s not like he can catch a cold or anything. What cha’ got?” He
walked into Richard’s office and eyed all the papers and books strewn across the desk.
“You might not like it.”
“He’s not really one of us, is he?” Diamond sat in the chair and put his boots up on the desk, lowering
them when Richard gave him a dirty look.
“Well, he was.”

Saturday, August 22, 2009



Soren Cannon and his best friend Mercedes are die hard Rocko fans. They have the opportunity to follow him all summer as he toured the neighboring states. At each one of the concerts Soren found that it was easy to be seduced when the beautiful, soulful music of Rocko provided the back drop.

Hot Summer Nights
Going up the stairs he stopped short as he looked up directly into a pair of amazing, sparkling blue eyes on a familiar face of a man exiting the restroom. Both of their mouths dropped open and then quickly closed. For what seemed like a long time they stared at each other, and then a small smile touched the man’s sweet rosy lips.
Holy shit, it’s him!
They continued to stare at each other for what felt like an eternity before Soren managed to smile back. A group of women started up the stairs behind the wall, talking loudly. His attention was taken from the handsome man as he watched them come around the corner and rush pass him. When he turned his attention back to the man he was gone and Soren’s mouth dropped open again. He rushed up the stairs and into the restroom, but he wasn’t there.
After using the restroom Soren washed his hands then hesitantly bent down to look under the stalls. Not seeing any feet he snatched the paper towel from the holder and walked out.
He moved to throw the towel away, but his hand stopped in mid air. Slowly he turned toward the calling sound and saw his mystery man sitting on the forbidden stairs leading to the blocked off balcony. He finished his toss throwing the towel away, but didn’t move.
The man called him over with a nod of his head.
Soren knew this game and liked it. He shook his head negatively.
The man stood up giving Soren a better look at him. It was they same guy alright. All his doubts faded at the sight of a full body look of him. He was beautiful, tanned and sexy. His casual lean on the banister made his dark blue jeans hug his full thighs and push against his impressive bulge seductively. That was the same bulge he felt pressing into his ass last month. He wondered if he was as skilled with it as he was with his hands. The memories sent shivers down his back and he could feel the first stirrings of arousal in his dick.
Soren continued to scan his body hungrily. The jeans hugged his long legs nicely and the tee shirt was smooth across his rounded pecs showing off his firm abs and large biceps. Soren reversed his gaze before he outwardly started to salivate and before he knew it his eyes were locked on the sexy stranger’s eyes once more.
The man watched Soren check him out with out a word. When Soren’s eyes returned to his he smiled giving him the ‘come hither’ finger. Soren wrapped his arms around his chest and then shook his head again. The man chuckled and held onto the railing as he leaned out as far as he could with a playful smile. He held out his hand reaching out to Soren asking him to come with his whole hand this time.
More laughter came from down the stairs. Soren moved to look around the corner then returned his attention back to the man and his ‘come hither’ became more insistent. Soren peeked around the corner again to see the women coming up the final steps to the restroom. He ducked back into the bathroom and stood against the wall.
What the hell am I doing? Am I really thinking of going that far with some strange guy…with a sexy body…and amazing eyes…that has already made me feel good?
Flashes of their last encounter in Kentucky went across his mind and he felt his dick jump in response to the memory again. He peeked out the bathroom biting his lip and watched the women go into the bathroom across the way. As soon as the women entered the rest room Soren ducked around the corner and took the man’s hand that was still extended and waiting for him.

Thursday, August 20, 2009



By Jaxx Steele


Khristopher Knight was a professional motorcycle rider. It was the greatest day of his life when he qualified for that inaugural race at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway until he realized he had no one to share it with.

Artis Kent had not seen Kris since they were in college together. The race at the Speedway was the first in 100 years. With his ticket he would have the chance to meet the riders and maybe open the lines of communication again.

When Kris and Artis met up again, Artis had no idea that his world would soar to the heavens, crash to the dephs of hell and then soar to the sky once more all in the span of 30 days. Can Artis's calm laid back life handle a love affair with the fast paced Kristopher Knight? Or will there be too many crash and burns for Artis to handle?


Artis chuckled slapping his friend five and then took his place at the end of the line. After almost two hours Artis could feel his heart pumping faster as only one person separated him from Kris. He looked fantastic. His hair was long, grazing across his broad shoulders and hung in thick damp strands. The white tank top that clung to his slender body invitingly was half tucked into his dark jeans and he held his jacket to his leg. Leaning against his bike he held the woman in his arms and gave the photographer one of his amazing smiles. When the picture was taken the woman rushed over to the photographer and waited for the picture to come from the printer. She returned to the table with the glossy photo of them and a pen. Kris signed the picture and handed back to her. She kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the tent. With a few deep breaths, Artis stepped up for his turn and stopped at the table. Kris looked up at him and smiled.
“Artie? Is that you?”
Artis let out a shocked breath and his heart swelled within his chest. His chest rose and fell so fast he could hardly get any air into his lungs. He tried to answer him, but he could barely breathe.
Kris left the bike and walked around the table to him. “Oh my God, it is you,” he said happily. He wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around Artis’s waist and pulled him into a hug. “I was hoping I got the chance to see you while I was here.”
Artis melted in his embrace. Although he was stunned at the turn of events he recovered quickly and returned his hug, loving every minute of it.
“I didn’t think you would remember me,” he finally whispered.
“Remember you? Oh, my God, are you kidding? I could never forget you!” he exclaimed holding his shoulders, laughing. He turned to Ralph full of excitement. “Ralph, this is my best friend, Artis. He lives here in town. We went to school together.”
“Hey,” was all Ralph said from behind the camera.
“Come on, Artie, let’s take a picture.”
Artis was elated. Kris remembered him and he was about to take a picture sitting on his bike and what a bike it was! The royal blue, Kawasaki Ninja was still dusty from the ride that made Kris eligible for the official race the next day. Artis slowly ran his hand over the crotch rocket as the memory from his first ride on a motorcycle came to mind.
“Go ahead and get up there, Artie. I know you want to,” Kris offered with a sly grin nudging him.
He didn’t hesitate to take Kris up on his offer and threw his leg over the powerful vehicle. A rush of adrenaline surged through him as he gripped the handles. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip.
“Take the picture, Ralph,” he heard Kris say through his heady daze.
After the bright flash he felt the bike drop from extra weight and his eyes popped open. To his amazement he felt Kris’ arms slip around his waist and his cock surged to life.
“Take this shot, too, Ralph. We would have had one like this years ago when I took him on his first ride, but no one was around to take the picture,” Kris explained.
His stunned face was surely captured on film. Kris’ arms around him for a second time was more than he could imagine would happen when he woke today only hoping to just talk to him. It was a dream come true. For years he wondered what it would feel like being held by his strong arms. Now he knew and it was wonderful. Strong and muscular, holding him close without crushing him and Kris’ face and torso was pressing into his back…mmm. An erotic shiver went through his body leaving behind a tingling sensation. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling. It was something he would never forget…and then it was gone.
“Did you get that it, Ralph? I want two copies of that one,” Kris said sliding off the back of the bike.
“Yeah, I got it,” Ralph replied staring at the printer waiting for the digital prints to come out.
He handed the photos to Kris who lingered over them before returning to Artis. “Here you go Artie.”
Reluctantly Artis threw his leg over the bike and stepped away from it. “Thanks.”
“Did you watch me qualify?”
“Of course I did,” he answered smiling. “You were amazing.”
“We have so much to talk about, Artie. There’s so much I want to tell you. So much has happened since we last saw each other.”
“Kris, they’re looking for us,” Ralph said with his phone to his ear.
“Okay, Ralph. What are you doing tonight, Artie?”
Artis’ eyes widened. “I—I, umm, nothing, well, nothing important.”
“Great! They are giving a party for the racers tonight at our hotel. They let us invite a date, but since I don’t have one you can come with me and we can catch up.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Kris, let’s go,” Ralph urged closing his camera bags.
Kris rushed around the table and pushed his bike upright releasing the kick stand. “We are downtown at the Conrad. The party starts at nine o’clock. I’ll leave your name so you can get in.”
“So I’ll see you tonight, right? Don’t be late. I can’t wait to see you--and dress up. Magazine people will be there,” he said cheerfully following Ralph from the tent leaving him with one of his killer grins and a wink.
Artis stood in the empty tent trying to absorb how much his life had changed in a matter of minutes. A slow smile touched his lips as he looked on the picture. Kris was holding him and smiling brightly and he didn’t look like some wide eyed stunned fool taking a picture with the great Kristopher Knight. He pressed the picture to his chest and laughed before putting it into his back pocket.
“This day turned out way better than I expected,” he said as he finally left the tent.

Jaxx Steele Putting a little XX in Man Love!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Incident at Shay Oaks by Sarah L. Colter


Incident at Shady Oaks

by Sarah Colter
18 pages / 7750 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony-optimized pdf

Eve and Charley are just like any other couple: two people in love trying to get by. They don't make any secret of being together; they have a bigger secret to keep. Eve has precognitive visions and she's rarely wrong. When a stop at a dingy motel fills Eve's mind with terrible pictures, it's frightening enough. But when Eve and Charley find out that the welfare of a motley little band of society's outcasts may depend on Eve's ability to solve the mystery behind her visions, Eve's secret may be revealed.


We had been on the road all day, the last four hours in the pouring rain. Having had less than four hours sleep the previous night, I was near exhaustion, and Charley hadn’t blinked for miles. Her vacant stare concerned me. She was usually an animated driver -- chatty, idly commenting on the blunders of other drivers, not quietly staring straight ahead. Was she sleep-driving? It was nearly midnight, and we were somewhere in central Kentucky. I was desperate to find a place to sleep.

In an area that bore no other signs that offered services, I spotted a partially burned-out marquee that read ‘Welcome to the Shady Oaks Motel.’ Pointing anxiously, I read it aloud. I was relieved to see Charley show signs of awareness. The word ‘vacancy’ was not lit up, but we took a chance and pulled into the parking lot, anyway. Yawning, getting soaked to the skin as we dashed from the car to the building, we entered the lobby of the shabby little motel and found an old man at the front desk. He had been peacefully puffing on a cigarette as he watched the rain through the glass door, but his eyes lit up with friendliness as we crossed the threshold.

The clerk was old and looked frail. Tall, thin, partly bald, he seemed amicable enough. Although the temperature had been in the upper nineties that day, he was wearing a hooded jacket zipped up to his chin. A large tin can on the counter was overflowing with cigarette butts, some still smoldering. Needless to say, the room reeked.

I could’ve cheered when he told us there was a vacancy. I had mixed feelings because of the smell, but in my weary state, I decided I could live one night with Eau Du Ashtray if a bed was part of the deal.

The clerk introduced himself as Gus, and began taking down our information. He was a talkative, accommodating man with trembling, withered hands, but he eyed me with undisguised interest. Charley was openly amused, but I was discomfited by the old fart’s lusty leer. Patiently enduring his painfully slow movements, we waited for him to get us checked in. Our wet clothes dripped on the linoleum, leaving large puddles around our feet.

I mused on whether to mention it to Gus, or to let him come shuffling around the desk where he could possibly slip and splat out on the floor, maybe break a hip or something. Old folks have brittle bones and a fall could easily cause a serious injury. I sighed inwardly. Though he was obviously an indiscreet, bawdy peeper who couldn’t take his eyes off my tits, I couldn’t let him get hurt. I wasn’t that petty. I pointed out the puddles. How could I feel bad about contributing to the safety of a senior citizen?

Without missing a beat in his rambling dialogue, he ambled over to a row of shelves that contained linens, chose a torn bedspread, and arranged it on the floor at our feet. As I watched the material soak up the mess, an ominous shiver passed through me. I had a flicker of an image of blood, brutality, rage, sadness and pain. Emptiness. In the spot where we were standing, a violent act had either happened in the recent past, or it would happen in the near future. A full-body shudder rocked me out of the partial vision. I leaned against Charley for support. As always, her arm immediately closed around me. I was thankful for Charley.


Monday, August 17, 2009

MASK by Jan Irving


Hiding behind the safe mask of Obsidian, his online persona, Kain Mitchell woos Nick Anders, an untouched artist. Nick tells himself that Obsidian is merely his erotic muse, but when Kain drags him down into his dark world, echoing the myth of Hades and Persephone, Nick discovers he wants to see him, touch him, and move beyond the limitations of masks. Because as seductive as Obsidian is, Nick senses Kain’s real isolation.

Implicated for the murders of young men matching Nick’s description, Kain lives under a shadow, and troubled by the mystery, Nick pushes to get closer. Driven to prove Kain’s innocence, Nick pursues the killer with Kain’s reluctant help—and strives to become the human submissive and tender lover needed by the lonely and otherworldly warrior.

For more details on the book, I have an excerpt up on the Mask page of my website here:

Saturday, August 15, 2009



Sometimes in life there are no happy endings.

Seventeen year old Peter Barnes is a student of Fair Lawn High in the 1970’s. His parents divorced after a violent marriage, his older brother Keith is constantly high on drugs, his younger sister Jackie seems the only one relatively sane, and Peter is lost.
Peter hides in plain sight, avoiding making friends for fear of the pain of separation.
Disaster strikes Peter when he meets a beautiful older woman, Wendy Saunders and loses his heart to her instantly.
Widowed, Wendy had married a rich old man and now craves the youth she missed. Unfortunately her yearning for Peter turns out to have dire consequences.
This story is set in two parts, Book One, Peter’s youth, and Book Two, ten years later.

Warning: This novel contains some scenes sensitive readers may find objectionable. If you are easily offended, do not purchase this book.

Sample Chapter for The Rape of St. Peter:

Keith stood in front of his mirror smoking a joint naked. After he held each breath, he leaned out of his opened window to exhale outside to prevent the smell from lingering inside the house. He snuffed the roach out in his fingers and placed it into a silver case.
Keith took a brush to his hair, fluffing it, shaking it full. He rested his hands on his dresser and stared at his face. “I wish my eyes were green.”
He jumped on his bed to be able to see his entire body in the mirror. “Yeah, nice bod.” He grabbed his cock and started to work on it as he stared at his reflection.
When the sensations rose to a climax, Keith closed his eyes, falling to his knees on his bed. He shot out ribbons of come and grunted and jerked his hand faster.
The sound of the door and a choking cough brought Keith around. Keith opened his eyes slowly to see Peter staring at him.
“Hello, pretty brother.” Keith milked his cock.
Peter jumped out of his skin like he was caught spying. “Sorry!” Peter backed away and shut the door.
Keith smiled wickedly and used his thumb to wipe the last creamy drop from his slit.
After he washed up, Keith rolled a few more joints and dressed in a tight pair of blue jeans and a black muscle T-shirt. He dabbed some cologne on his neck, then raised his shirt so he could rub some on his chest to his flat muscular belly. He ran a sock over his boots to polish them, then checked out his clean shaven face in the mirror and winked. Lastly, he found his leather jacket and strutted down the hall.
Keith stopped at Peter’s door and opened it quickly, trying to catch him in a similar act.
Peter jumped at the start.
“Reading? That’s what you do with the door closed?” Keith tilted his head at him comically.
Peter smiled awkwardly. “Well, I know what you do.”
“Heh, heh.” Keith grinned wickedly.
“Get lost.” Peter waved him out.
“Right. See ya twerp.” Keith winked at him and hopped down the stairs with a jubilant bound.
“Where are you going?” Louise asked, checking the time.
“Out. I’ll be really late, so don’t wait up.” Before his mother could respond Keith waved good-bye and walked out into the night air. He opened his joint case and stuck one in his mouth, lighting it. Inhaling and holding it in as long as he could, he blew out the smoke in a thin blue cloud.
Keith strolled passed a few houses as dogs barked at him in alarm. A car turned down his street, its headlights blinding him as he crushed the joint out in his fingers. It stopped and the passenger door swung open.
Keith climbed in and smiled at Steve. “Hey.”
Giving him a good once over, Steve licked his chops at the sight. “Hey back. You look positively edible.”
Knowing he did, Keith grinned and shook back his hair seductively, then he held up the rest of the joint. “Want some?”
“No, I don’t smoke it anymore. Trying to keep the lungs clean. You can though.”
“I already had a hit.” Keith stuck it back in his case put it into his jacket pocket. “So, where’s this party?”
“In the City. It’s at a very good friend of mine. Terry.”
When warmth covered his thigh, Keith glanced down at Steve’s hand. “Am I supposed to be your date?”
“Christ, I’m very tempted to turn around and have you all to myself for the night.” Steve said. “I’m thinking about it very seriously. God, you are too much.” Steve squeezed Keith’s leg tightly and rocked it side to side.
Keith flipped down the visor to stare in the mirror. “Yeah, I do look pretty fantastic, don’t I?”
“And modest?”
“Fuck modesty. How about honesty?”
“God, I love you.” Steve laughed.
“Christ! Now you love me?” Keith peeked down at the masculine hand that hadn’t moved from his leg and if anything was getting friendlier. “Anyway…what’s Wendy up to tonight?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Let me guess, a date with my old man?”
“Nah. I just might have to find myself a new babe at the party tonight. Mad?” Keith grinned demonically and stared back at Steve.
“Nah! Good luck.”
“There will be women there, right? This isn’t a queer party, is it?”
Steve’s smile broadened. “You should do very well. There will be plenty to choose from.”
Knowing Keith was cock-teasing Steve, Keith raised Steve’s hand from its grip on his thigh and stuck Steve’s middle finger into his mouth.
“Holy fuck!” Steve almost lost control of the vehicle he was so shocked.
Keith roared with laughter. “Shit. It takes nothing to turn you fags on.”
Steve caught his breath and focused back on the road as they merged onto Route 4’s entrance ramp. “Keith, you gorgeous motherfucker, you said a mouthful.”

Available now on ebook- The Rape of St Peter- The GA Hauser Collection

Keep It In The Closet by Remmy Duchene


Title: Keep It In the Closet
Author: Remmy Duchene
Length: Short Story
Cover By: Kato Rain - Arigato Designs
Status: Now Available at Red Eclipse Writers

Jason Higgin has very wealthy parents who are pillars of the community and having a gay son is just out of the question. When he comes out to them they told him it's quite alright, just as long as no one else knows. Jason settles for Erik Rhodes porn and brief booty calls out of town but other than that was sexless for over a year. He gets hired by the city's most eligible gay batchelor to do the cover for his new book. When Jason gets drawn to him, what is he to do.

Forget the fake 'gay dar' Mark Spalding doesn't need it. Mark has known Jason from high school and he knew that Jason was gay then and is now. He also knew Jason's talents with graphics and wants the best for his new book. He hires Jason and the moment the graphic designer walks into Mark's life once more, Mark knows he wants him. Will he be able to entice Jason from the closet or will Jason allows his parents to control his life and his happiness?


Contemporary Erotic Author

Tigra-Luna LeMar

Gay Erotic Author

Remmy Duchene

Hot Sexy Reads: Red Eclipse Writers

Friday, August 14, 2009

DRAGONHOPE LOVERS 1: BONDMATES by Auburnimp and Michael Barnette


Dragonhope Lovers 1: Bondmates by Auburnimp and Michael Barnette
A world of Dragonhope novel
Genre: Scifantasy Menage contains m/f, m/m/f
Heat Rating: Fire
Length: Novel, 56,000 words / 306 pages
Price: $6.00

All Starshine wants to do is live in peace with her lover Windspinner, but her father has other ideas.

Windspinner Bearbane thought he’d found his swordbrother and lover in Lakesinger. But Lake’s gone off with the notorious outlaw Darksky leaving him dispirited and unhappy. The only person that gives his life meaning is Starshine, his friend and lover.

Starshine wants to marry Wind, but her father has forbidden it since Wind doesn’t have a swordbrother, but when Starshine encounters an escaped slave named Riverspring their lives take a sudden turn.

Wind belched softly as he set his empty plate aside, giving Star a sheepish smile. “The food was good, and as usual I ate too much,” he admitted. “If I wind up fat and lazy in my old age you’ll be to blame.”

Star chuckled and shook her head. "You'll never be fat. You keep yourself too busy to get fat."

He grinned and reached for her. “I know something we can do to work a bit of that meal off me.”

She mock fought him off. "Oh do you now?"

His cock hardened at her struggles. The resistance, though token, excited him the way it always did. “Yes I do.”

Wind stood, grabbing her and swinging her onto his shoulder, intending to carry her to the furs and pillows where they slept, and did other, much more memorable things.

Star chuckled and kicked her legs as she pummeled Wind's back. "You beast! Put me down!"

“Good plan,” Wind remarked as he lay her on the pillows and furs that made up their bed, pinning her there with his weight, his erection pressing to her thigh as he held her down.

She was flushed, her hair in wild disarray, eyes bright with amusement. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her, then lowered his head to kiss her soft lips.

Star's arms wound round his neck and she pulled him closer as she returned his kiss, her mouth opening to let his tongue in.

Wind’s tongue sparred gently with hers, the touch intimate, tender. His heart raced, body responding to the rising passion. He touched her breast, felt the hard pebble of the nipple beneath his palm, her desire for him clear.

"Wind," she murmured against his chest, "I love you so much." Her hands began pulling at his clothes.

Click the link to buy

Michael Barnette and Auburnimp
Hot Plot with an Erotic Edge



Plague Dance by Michael Barnette
A Dragon Dance Cycle novella
Immortal Heroes Series
Genre: GLBT m/m paranormal erotic romance
Heat Rating: Fire
Length: Novella-25,000 words / 151 pages
Price: $4.50
Available from Shadowfire Press

A plague ravaged the world. Cory and Deshawn survived. But can they survive Roderik, the man who would be King?

After a mutated strain of Ebola ended the world as we know it, Staff Sergeant Deshawn Roberts finds himself alone and longing for companionship.

Cory Wilson, one time office worker, finds himself a captive of Roderick, King of the Lone Star Empire. It's a life of slavery worse than death, and Cory escapes to find himself on the run.

Brought together by chance, can these two men survive in the harsh reality of post Collapse America, and will they find the love they both crave?

Without thinking he leaned in and kissed Cory, the touch light, a gentle questing for consent. The warm lips under his parted, opening and receptive. Acceptance and welcome, his kiss was returned, Cory pressing himself tighter to Deshawn in response to the increasing passion awakening between them. Awakened by a kiss, despite the injuries they both had.

Passion confirmed in the hardness of a cock pressed to Deshawn's thigh.

He reached up, his arm awkward, not responding the way it should and he recalled that he'd been unable to use it earlier. Deshawn managed to get his hand to the back of Cory's head ignoring the way the muscles shook, how weak the arm felt. He held the blond deepening the kiss, exploring the sweetness of Cory's mouth. Their tongues tangled in a hungering dance that left the former army sergeant dizzy from lack of oxygen, his own dick throbbing with desire for Cory. Bad hurt, but he wanted the man with an intensity that erased the pain. The blond was returning the kiss with fervent enthusiasm his hands roaming along Deshawn's back, molding to the curve of his ass.

Deshawn broke the kiss to stare into Cory's hazel eyes to see hunger there, a flush of color across the blond's cheeks. Cory roused and wanting. Wanting him as much as he wanted Cory. There was a questioning look on the other man's face, and Deshawn smiled, leaned in and touched his lips to Cory's before retreating from the contact.

He caressed Cory's cheek, fingertips brushing over a few days' growth of beard stubble, and a streaks of dried blood that flaked away as he touched them. They'd both been injured by the explosion, a small scabbed over cut along Cory's cheekbone showing him where the blood had come from. His thumb touched the softness of Cory's lips which parted, the blond capturing the end of his thumb in a light, sucking kiss.

"You okay with this?"

Cory let go of his thumb and nodded. "Can't you tell?"

Deshawn smiled. "Now that you mention it, I guess I can."

Click the link to buy

Michael Barnette
Fiction with an Erotic Edge

Are you ready for m/m love and adventure on the world of Dragonhope?
Swordbrothers 1: Outlaw & the Brat available from Shadowfire Press

Apocalypse Dance by Michael Barnette


Apocalypse Dance by Michael Barnette
A Dragon Dance Cycle novel
Immortal Heroes Series
Genre: Paranormal (Dragon/Immortal) erotic romance (m/f)
Warning: Toys, role reversal, anal play, BDSM and D/s themes
Heat Rating: Shadowfire
Length: Epic-106,000 words / 608 pages
Price: $7.50

This book previously appeared with another publisher. It has been heavily revised, expanded and reedited.

For Nikki salvation is just a Dragon away.

With the world population decimated by a mutated strain of Ebola civilization as we know it has gone down in ruin. Warlords rampage across what was once the United States of America, killing, raping and adding to the misery and horror that has swept the once proud nation.

Nikki, once on her way to becoming a brilliant doctor, is being sought as a concubine by Roderik, self-styled King of the Lone Star Empire.

Now it's up to Nikki, her friends and an enigmatic blond known only as Bells to end his reign of terror.

The problem is, Roderik is an Immortal Dragon, and only another Dragon can stop him.

Going slowly, watching her eyes for any traces of panic, he pulled her jeans off, sliding his hands down her long legs, revealing creamy flesh, feminine perfection. Her sex was covered with a pair of silky pink panties, the color reminding him of the soft petals of a woman’s inner folds. The delicate satin of her most tender flesh. He knelt in to dip his tongue into her navel, then stood slowly, drawing a line of damp flame up her stomach and across her right breast. Her hand was still locked tightly in his hair, pulling, causing a tiny hint of pain that added a piquancy to the desire heating him. It felt good and he wanted more.

Her breath caught, and she shuddered under the onslaught of sensation. Her nipples peaked so tightly it looked like it should hurt. He drew the tip of his tongue around the areola, one hand pressed at the small of her back, holding her still for his exploration.

She tensed slightly and he eased his hold, sensitive to her reactions, both positive and negative, learning what she liked and what sent a dampening of desire through her on the wings of fear. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. He wanted her to know nothing but pleasure from his every touch, his every whispered breath across the silken expanse of her flawless skin.

“Bells....” She almost screamed his name as he closed his mouth around the stiffened nub, sucking, teasing it with the edges of his teeth. His cock throbbed with want for her, his own desire heightened by her cry. She wanted him, and even if it came down to nothing but the heat of the moment, her need for comfort, he didn’t care. He’d take this, savor it, use it as a balm to the nightmare memories that haunted him in the small hours of the night.

Pulling away, he met her gaze. Awakened passion warmed her sable eyes. “Do you want this from me?”

“Yes!” There was no reservation or hesitation in her reply, nor in the way she kissed him afterward, her entire being seeking what he offered with the same intensity he had sought her. Her answer was as immediate as her need, and just as heated as his own.

“Good.” He swept her off her feet and lay her down on the bed, kissing her breasts and throat, easing his weight down on her, gauging her reaction.

She froze, a look of rising terror in her eyes, and he understood what had been done to her. He shoved his own flash of wrath aside, ignoring the Beast as it snarled and raged, fighting the chains. Bells raised himself off of her to shower her soft body with kisses, driving away the panic, easing her terror.

He understood bad memories better than most people, voices and faces of people he should know, bits of broken memories plaguing his sleep. If he could help it he wouldn’t be a reminder of the past for her so long as it lay within his power. He wouldn’t hurt her, couldn’t knowingly cause her pain or fear.

“Please, please,” she gasped, fumbling with the button on his jeans.

Eyes burning, he left the bed, pulled his boots and pants off, his gaze locked on the beauty of her face, the perfection of her form. Female. Feminine. Delicate and beautiful. But she was strong of spirit. Capable. Courageous.

The Thing at the center of his being wanted her.

So did he.

Click the link to buy

Don’t miss the sequels available now:
Merry Christmas Mr. Dragon

Gift Wrapped Dragon

Games Dragons Play

Michael Barnette
Fiction with an Erotic Edge
Follow me on Twitter

Thursday, August 13, 2009

SWORDBROTHERS 2:FOUR WINDS by Michael Barnette and Auburnimp


Swordbrothers 2: Four Winds

Magic never lies.

Summerbreeze Warmwind is ostracized because of his blue hair. He never expects to find anyone to love him.

Sword Dancer is a wealthy weaponsmith who lacks for nothing, except a swordbrother to love him.

Trueflight Woodbender is a well known bow maker who isn't looking for love... until it finds him.

Zephyr Northernwind is the son of a camp whore, despised and living his life on the fringe of clan after clan. What man could ever love someone like him?

When the bond of swordbrothers unites these men to one another their lives change. But is it for the better?


The magic of a swordbrother's bond never lies.

"I'm going too fast for you, aren't I?" Sword questioned. His blue eyes were hot with lust.

They barely knew each other, yet the call of their magic, the pull of the bond, could not be ignored.

It could, however, be tempered with willpower which Sword seemed to possess as the smith took a deep breath, then gently pushed Breeze away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let the magic and the bond get the better of me."

Breeze let out a whimper of frustration and need and watched sadly as the wind and colors dispersed. He stared down at his hands, wondering if he'd imagined the magic due to his desire for Sword. It was very obvious the man didn't want him after all. "It's all right," he managed to say after a moment, "there's no reason for you to apologize."

Why would any warrior want me after all, sorry excuse for a man that I am?

Fingers stroked through his hair, smoothing it from his eyes, a spark of desire, a breath of wind followed Sword's touch in a second, feather light caress. "I want you as my swordbrother. I want it very much, but I also want to be sure it's what you want. It won't be said of me that I took advantage of anyone. So tell me, Breeze, do you really want this with me, or do you want to think it over?"

Sword's words, and the feel of the wind as well as his touch, made Breeze look up again, hope stirring in his chest. "I still think I must be dreaming," he said. "I'm no great catch as a swordbrother. I'm an adequate hunter, and a reasonable cook. I can skin and make good leather but that's nothing compared to your skills and talents. I'm not very good with people and I don't understand how you could possibly want me."

Sword's sensual mouth curved sharply downward. His dark brows pulled together, and the man frowned at him. The look lent Sword a seriousness, a very manly expression that only made the heat in Breeze's flesh, the ache in his groin worsen.

"The magic decides, Summerbreeze. We aren't a pair of men taking one another as lovers. This is the real thing, true love forged by magic and the power of our very souls." Sword brushed his thumb across Breeze's cheek, the power of the bond rising at the touch of skin on skin. A puff of wind moved through Breeze's hair, a tingle flowed through the contact into him.

All of the hurt and pain Breeze felt, after years of slights over his bizarre appearance and gentle nature, was expressed in his cry of, "Then why did you push me away?"

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulled him close, held him tight. "Not to hurt you. By the Ancestors, I never wanted to hurt you! Not you, Breeze." Warm lips touched his, the kiss gentle, soothing. A stronger wind tugged at their clothes, flickers of blue, ribbons of magical energy rose from Sword's body, from his body too.


Sword ended the kiss, gazed into the beautiful gold of his soon to be swordbrother's eyes. "You're precious to me, Breeze. Don't you realize that? I've searched for my swordbrother, my true love for ten years and never found him. Not until I found you." he explained, and showered gentle kisses on Breeze's face, his throat.

He wanted the young man, had wanted him since he'd first set eyes on the fall of his odd blue hair, the sharp curve of his cheek, the sensual form of his lips.

By the same token, he didn't want to force the issue. He didn't want to rush the younger man into his bed. He could tell Summerbreeze was uneasy, nervous as a virgin girl on her marriage night. He didn't understand it, but suspected that, like so many among the clans who were different in appearance, Breeze had been all but shunned by his own clan. He'd seen things like it before. Recalled how he'd seen other young men treated over some small difference. And blue hair like Breeze's was hardly a small difference.

Sword stopped kissing Breeze, the younger man breathless, cheeks flushed with what Sword hoped might be passion. It could just as easily be embarrassment. The two of them were in the middle of camp surrounded by people, some of whom were watching surreptitiously, while pretending not to pay them the slightest attention.

Not a few of them were young unmarried women. Sword sighed. No wonder he's nervous. All these people watching us, if I had any sense I'd be embarrassed too. Time for a change of scenery. "Why don't we take the food inside? You can cook our meal and we can talk about anything you like. How does that sound?"

He received a breathtaking and obviously grateful smile in thanks. Breeze gathered up his pot of tubers and the rack of meat and carried them into his tent. He placed them over the fire pit and got the firestones going underneath them before looking up and saying, "Thank you for being so understanding."

"Not a problem," Sword replied, giving the younger man a sheepish grin. "I should have done more thinking with my upper head, rather than letting the lower one get the better of me." He sat down beside Breeze, and favored him with a big smile. "Feeling the pull of the bond, and seeing how beautiful you are was too much for me, I'm afraid."

He touched the soft blue hair, twisting a lock around his finger, letting it slide up the digit, marveling at the color. "You're one of a kind, Summerbreeze. And I'd be pleased to have you as my swordbrother. That is if you'll have me. I really am sorry for making an ass of myself, but at my age I had given up on the idea I'd find my swordbrother."

Wednesday, August 12, 2009



It's hard to hide the heart in the high country as Bradford Thorne and Sheelinn MacNamara soon discover

When he breaks up with his controlling ex, sci fi novelist Bradford Thorne heads for the high country to work on his new novel. Specifically, he finds sanctuary at a horse ranch that breeds pintos.

Ranch owner Sheelinn MacNamara's a puca on the run from Hunters. Shapeshifting Linn can turn into a black stallion or a black wolf, but his secret keeps him from finding love.

Neither of them is anticipating the effect the other has on their libido, or on Bradford's ex, Victor. They're not looking for love, but it's hard to hide from the heart in high country.

Snow mantled the sharp peaks of the Rockies, the stark lines and ridges rising into the vivid blue of the sky. The road wended its way between the crags, the rental car rolling along on the pavement as the miles ticked by.

The view was spectacular, and the driver—Bradford Thorne, also known as Bradley Thornton, science fiction author—glanced this way and that as he drove higher and higher into the mountains. He kept watching for the turnoff onto the ranch road, but so far he hadn't spotted it.

He glanced at his watch. I should be there by now. He said about an hour from Boulder on Highway 36.

He ran a hand through his unruly mop of brown hair and sighed, anxious to get started on his vacation.

Some vacation. I've left the city, and though I plan to work while I'm here anyway, it will be a nice break from the usual grind. God, the mountains are spectacular, they really are.

He tore his eyes away from the beauty and grinned when he spotted a large white sign beside the dusty road that read:





At the bottom was a phone number he recognized as the one he'd called to rent the cabin where he'd be spending the next month. He slowed the car, put on his blinker, and made the turn with caution when the road turned out to be unpaved, rather than dust-covered asphalt. Even going slow, the ride down the dirt path was a bumpy one. He glanced at the laptop case on the seat beside him and hoped nothing rattled loose.

The last thing I need is a broken computer in the middle of nowhere.

He slowed more when he came to a rut running crosswise to the road, and the car bounced and rocked as it traversed the shallow ditch and climbed up the other side.

I guess they've been getting a lot of rain.

He loved the rain, and the thought of rain coming down in such beautiful country, the flash of lightning among the mountains, sent a chill of hopeful expectation through him.

This is going to be great! I've got four entire weeks for less than what two weeks cost me the last time I took a vacation. A vacation that had been a huge disappointment. Not only hadn't he gotten much writing done, but he'd also wound up with food poisoning from the buffet on the cruise ship. He'd spent four days of pure misery in the ship's infirmary along with two dozen other passengers.

This is going to be a lot better. I just know it will be.

Best of all, Victor has no idea where I've gone.

Victor Augustine, his former lover. He didn't want to think about Victor. Sure, it had been great…at first. But Victor had turned into a control freak about a month into their relationship, and by their six-month anniversary as lovers, controlling had turned into domineering shading toward abusive.

Do not need the drama.

He had enough stress dealing with his agent, his publisher, and the occasional appearances at conventions. The last thing he needed were problems in his home life.

The car rounded a thick stand of trees, and the ranch came into view. White fences corralled grazing horses, all of them patchworks in black, brown, gold, and white, with a few spotted horses in the mix. The house itself was large, a ranch style—of course—with a large picture window at the front. Several SUVs and pickup trucks lined the double-wide driveway.

He slowed even more and brought the car to a stop behind a rust-spotted blue pickup truck that was missing its tailgate.

A brown mutt with a shaggy coat ran up to the car, wagging its tail and barking up a storm. Not sure how friendly the dog was, Brad waited in the car for someone to come out of the house.

It didn't take long for someone to appear from around the back of the house. The man was lean and lanky, dressed in dirty, work-faded, and aged jeans and a T-shirt for some sort of horse-related event. Possibly a rodeo, or maybe a race, he couldn't tell because only the horse remained. The cloth was stretched tightly over broad shoulders and a well-defined chest that tapered to flat, ripped abs that were quite visible under the rather tight shirt. The sleeves of the T-shirt were gone, which showed off well-defined triceps and biceps and the deep sort of tan you only got from working outside. A cowboy hat and boots completed the man's attire. He moved with the assurance of someone who knew his place in the world and enjoyed the life he led. A thrum of desire rolled through Bradford as he watched the cowboy approach.

That's one very attractive man, he admitted to himself as the dog—which had been barking his head off since he drove up—left the side of his car and ran to the man. It began to jump up and down, excited, tail wagging so fast, it became a blur. Whether it was because of the cowboy's arrival or the strange car in the yard, Bradford didn't know.

The guy came around to the driver's-side door and leaned down to peer into the window. There were faint lines around his eyes, the sort that came from squinting in the sunlight. The eyes themselves were a light amber color that reminded him of a ring his mother used to wear, or maybe good-quality beer. I could sure go for a beer and something to eat. I should have stopped at one of those diners I passed. Too late now.

The cowboy smiled at him, which increased the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Make that damn attractive. He found himself staring at the man's smiling mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Okay, it hasn't been that long since you broke up with Victor, so it's not as if you haven't been laid recently. Take it easy. Besides, he's probably not even bisexual, much less gay. These rugged cowboy types are usually straight as they come. Too bad, though. I wouldn't mind a literal roll in the hay.

He reached for the button to roll down the window, but the smiling cowboy opened the door before he got the chance. Brad stepped out of the car.

"Hey, I guess you must be the guy who rented the vacation cabin." The cowboy held out his hand. "I'm Sheelinn MacNamara. Friends usually call me Linn." He motioned to the dog that stood near the car wagging his tail, tongue lolling from his mouth. "This is Dingbat, so named for the way he acts when visitors come by."

"I'm Bradford Thorne. Everyone winds up calling me Brad," he replied, taking the offered hand. The man's grip was firm but not hard enough to hurt. The warmth of the man's skin and his easy smile put Bradford at ease. He didn't think MacNamara had ever met a stranger; everyone was a friend in the making. At least that was the impression Brad got from the way the guy acted.

The rancher held his hand a little longer than necessary, and his amber gaze roamed over Brad from head to toe. Is he checking me out or…what? The man's smile widened into a grin. "When you told me you were an author, I expected a pudgy old guy," MacNamara remarked. "Not a guy in his early thirties who looks like he works for a living."

Brad chuckled. "That's what most people expect." He'd learned early on that mental work led to snacking, and he either had to control his eating with fanatic zeal or hit the exercise equipment daily. If he didn't, he got a case of author's gut from too many snacks and not enough physical activity. Working out meant he could have his midafternoon snack. "Believe me, writing is hard work. Using your mind to such a degree can be very exhausting. Especially when you finally glance at the clock and realize you've been at it for twelve solid hours."

"Well, I suppose any job tends to wear a person out by the end of the workday," Linn remarked. "There's no driveway around to the cabin, so I'll show you the way back there. I'll have some of the hands help you with your suitcases."

Brad shook his head. "No need. I've got them." He opened the trunk and got out his suitcase, retrieved the laptop from the front seat, and turned an expectant look on Linn.

"Okay then, follow me."

Brad followed the rancher around the house, which had hidden a pair of stables, and a few more fenced paddocks, where several more of the patchwork horses grazed peacefully. The smell of manure and animals made a pungent counterpoint to the crisp mountain air. It reminded him of summers spent with his grandparents on their Pennsylvania farm, though they'd had a couple of ponies and cows, not horses. He smiled at the memory.

"The smell's not going to bother you, is it?" the rancher asked. "We had a lady author here a couple years ago, and she was really unhappy. Said it stank so much she couldn't work."

"It's fine. I spent my childhood on a farm."

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Michael Barnette
Fiction with an Erotic Edge
My other books with Loose Id can be found here
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