Friday, February 28, 2014

BEAUTIFUL BÉLA By Stormy Glenn & Lynn Hagen

BEAUTIFUL BÉLA By Stormy Glenn & Lynn Hagen
Phanta City 1
Available Now!
Count Vladimir Dracul never suspected that the human he found hiding in his stables would change his life and the way he saw the world. But once he found Béla, Vlad couldn’t give him up. Fighting prejudices against humans, a vampire Count wanting his blood donor back, and a threat from an old enemy seem like small battles compared to the one he has to fight to win Béla’s heart
Béla was terrified of the vampire that found him and decided to keep him. His experience with vampires has never been good so he had no reason to trust Vlad, even if he wanted to. But when his former owner comes looking for him, Béla has to find the courage to save the one man that has come to mean more to him than his freedom.
With the help of a few crazy friends, a werewolf mob boss, and two insane brothers, Vlad and Béla just might have a chance at happiness…if the Ministry of Paranormal Affairs doesn’t get to them first.
Count Vladimir Dracul tilted his head a minute inch as the scent of leather and hay filled his lungs. He scanned the interior of his stables for the source of the soft thudding he could hear. The rapid beat called to him, enticing him to hunt it down like prey to a predator.
But the beat was unfamiliar, no scent to go with it to identify the cause. Vlad couldn’t even hone in on a thought pattern. It was as if that which he hunted was just out of his reach, teasing him…taunting him.
“Boris, all is well in the stables?” Vlad’s fingers smoothed over the long neck of his favorite stallion as he turned to look at his stable master. “My horses are all in good working form? No illness or anything?”
“Oh yes, my lord.” Boris’s ruddy cheeks wobbled as he spoke and nodded at the same time. “Your horses are in the best of shape, sire, couldn’t be better.”
“Hmm.” Vlad glanced toward the back of the stables once more, positive that was the direction the heartbeat came from. He stepped away from his horse, wondering why the beast wasn’t concerned over the slight disturbance Vlad could feel in the air. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He started toward the rear of the stable, his steps slow and measured, his head slanted to the side to catch the slightest sound of movement. Strangely enough, there was none, just the soft, but persistent beat of someone’s heart.
When Vlad neared the back wall, he pinpointed exactly where the heartbeat was located. He shook his head and pursed his lips. In the far back corner was a stack of hay bales. There was nothing unusual in that. Vlad was standing in a stable, after all.
What was starting to alarm Vlad—no easy feat considering he was the prince of his coven—was the fact that one of the hay bales was moving. Vlad stared at it in bewilderment, watching little bits of straw dislodge and float to the ground.
When curiosity—and the cold chill starting to creep up his back—became too much, Vlad reached over and pushed the hay bale, using all of his inhuman strength to send it flying. What he found behind the hay bale made Vlad's mind race.
A creature, covered in mud and grime and torn clothing…and little bits of hay, scurried toward the corner as he hissed at Vlad like a feral cat. Vlad stood to his full height of six foot one, not huge but enough to intimidate the little creature cowering in front of him.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my stables?” Vlad asked, baring his fangs.
Vlad wasn’t positive until the little thing tried to race past him what he was dealing with but the panicked emerald-green eyes told the story. Vlad swung his arm out and caught the guy around the waist to prevent his escape.
He immediately knew that might not have been his best choice when the creature started biting and scratching every bit of skin he could reach. Vlad wrapped both arms around the little spitfire in a protective hug, trying not to hurt the creature but keep himself from being hurt as well.
“Restrain yourself!” Vlad snapped as he shook the man in his arms. Vlad’s eyebrows shot up when the guy went as limp as a dishrag.
He didn’t trust the quick compliance.
Vlad’s eyes darted around the stable until they landed on a saddle blanket hanging over the edge of one of the stable doors. He carried his capture to the hay that had scattered over the floor when he flung it out of the way. Vlad gently laid the creature down then went to grab the blanket.
Vlad heard the faintest rustle of straw and spun before he took a step. Vlad's surprise gave the creature enough time to dart across the room. He squatted down and pressed himself back against the wall as if trying to make himself the smallest possible target.
Vlad moved as well, putting himself between the scared little thing and the door. Despite his concern for the fear he could see in the man’s deep-green eyes, Vlad knew letting him leave was the last thing he should do. Taking a slow step backward until he could reach over and grab the horse blanket, Vlad tossed the scratchy material at the intruder.
“You appear cold.” Hell, the creature looked downright frozen. The man’s skin held a pale blue tint that worried Vlad. While Vlad could hear the man’s heart beating at a rapid pace, his chest was rising and falling so quickly he looked ready to pass out.
And what would Vlad do with an unconscious human?
At least, he smelled human.
Sort of.
The sad little thing smelled like a whole lot of other stuff too, stuff that reeked. Vlad really didn’t want to get too close. Although, as he glanced down at himself, he realized that his brief encounter had gotten dirt and grime smeared on his crisp, clean clothes. Vlad smelled like a dung heap, which meant the human was a hundred times worse.
 Vlad motioned with his hand for the human to come toward him. “Follow me. We both could use a bath and I will find some food for you.”
Wide panicked eyes just stared at him.
Vlad gestured again.
The terror already swimming in the man’s eyes grew the moment Vlad moved forward. The creature's eyes darted wildly around the small space, and Vlad knew the human was looking for an escape route. And Vlad knew the moment the little thing realized he had to move around Vlad to gain his freedom.
For a fraction of a second, the man’s shoulders slumped as if he was resigning himself for the fight to come, but then he seemed to bolster himself. Vlad cocked an eyebrow when thinly developed muscles tensed.
Did the little human actually think he could beat a vampire?
Did he have a death wish?

“Bela not share Vlad?” Clearly it was a question and not a statement. Béla wasn’t brave enough to make it a statement.
“I should hope not!”
Béla was so overcome with joy that he grabbed Vlad’s face between his hands and kissed the vampire. It wasn’t until he felt Vlad’s tongue brush against his own that he realized what he had done, and he slowly pulled back, watching Vlad’s reaction carefully.
“Don’t stop now, Béla,” Vlad said with a grin. “That was just getting interesting.”
Never before had Béla even considered taking such liberties. He had never wanted to. Sex had been nothing more than grunting and mounting. It was Vlad who had taught him that sex could be tender, not rough. Taking in a deep breath, Béla leaned up and closed his eyes, brushing his lips over Vlad's the same way the vampire had done to him.
"Béla." Vlad's voice was a mere whisper, but held so much passion, so much fire that Béla threw caution to the wind and grabbed tufts of hair, pulling Vlad closer. Vlad's breath skimmed across Béla's cheek before Béla closed the distance, pushing his tongue inside the man's mouth.
Vlad let out a low groan, the razor clattering to the sink as Vlad wrapped his arms around Béla's body. The shaving cream smeared between their faces, but Béla was too lost in the aching need coursing through his body to care. The only thing he cared about was being in Vlad's arms.
"I need you, my beautiful Béla."
A shiver of sensual heat had Béla moaning in agreement. His cock was a wedge of hard steel, straining in his pants as he opened his mouth to say, "Béla need Vlad."
Vlad licked at his lower lip, his hands gripping Béla's hips tightly. A sharp breath exhaled from Béla's lungs at not only the sensation of Vlad's erection poking him in his side, but at the heat he could see scorching the man's eyes.
Vlad's tongue trailed down Béla's neck, making Béla arch back, letting out a low moan. There was nothing so sexy, so completely filled with driving lust and sensual excitement as the man kissing his way across Béla's throat.
His breathing became ragged when Vlad pulled away and spun Béla around yanking Béla's pants down to his ankles. He could have sworn he hear an animalist growl fall from Vlad's lips.
He was bent over the counter with his ass pushed out and his hard cock jutting between his legs. Béla heard Vlad's zipper lower, and then the man grabbed Béla's hips.
Vlad's hands were shaking.
Béla had never been more turned on in his life. His body ached to be filled, to feel Vlad's hard cock pounding deep in his ass.
"Hard and fast, Béla," Vlad panted as his fingers dug deep into Béla's hips. "Brace yourself.”
Béla groaned as Vlad's cock sank into his ass. His head spun and his pulse raced as his skin stretched wide. Béla's lips parted as small, panting noises escaped.
Vlad had the best dick in the world. It wasn't too big, wasn't too small. It fit perfectly inside Bela's ass, filling every inch of him until he wanted to scream out his pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked into the mirror, seeing the sexual haze in Vlad's red eyes. A course of lust shot through Béla groin, making his cock throb with his heartbeat as Vlad's fangs became prominent.
Béla had to slap his hands against the tiled sink backdrop to keep from sliding forward as Vlad slammed into him from behind. The hands digging into his hips only added to the pleasure rocketing through Béla.
The scent in the air was wild, untamed, and pulled at Béla's heart. He had gone from hating vampires to loving Vlad to the depth of his soul. Pushing his legs further apart, Béla damn near climbed onto the counter, wanting to feel Vlad go deeper.
"You are truly a beautiful creature," Vlad said as he scrapped his fangs along the nape of Béla's neck. "So exquisite."
"Vlad, please," Béla groaned as he reached back with one hand and wrapped his arm around Vlad's neck. He wanted to feel Vlad's fangs sink into his flesh. He wanted to be claimed again.
Béla cried out when Vlad's teeth sank into his neck. His cock jerked once then painted the front of the counter with copious amounts of cum. Pleasure inflamed Béla until spots danced in front of his eyes.
"Béla!" Vlad shouted as his thrusts grew faster, deeper.
Béla grunted as he felt pulse after pulse of Vlad's release filled his ass. There was nothing else on earth like knowing he had brought his vampire pleasure. It was a heady feeling, a powerful feeling.

Monday, February 24, 2014


Raised in the outskirts of Pittsburgh in a slum known as The Hollow, has both Mick and Cara stuck at a dead end. Tired of taking second place to his brother who's up for the next NBA draft, Mick plans his escape. Having concealed his feelings for Cara since childhood, thinking he'd never be able to give her what she deserves has him recruiting her, making her part of his plan for the future. Cara, who's just been going through the motions of a mundane life escapes her harsh reality through fiction romance, often wishing she could live the life of the characters she reads about. As Mick and Cara set out on their journey there are bumps along the way. As Mick struggles, waiting for the right time to confess his feelings he discovers the method of Cara's escape. When Mick decides to rely on Cara's  fictional world to assist him with the expression of his affections, real life and fiction collide. Will Mick learn how to be the expressive man Cara wants on his own? Will Cara accept his overtures as genuine while the two attempt to gain stability and have a life together, leaving the grime and grit of The Hollow behind?

“Where did you get that?” Cara asked. Her eyes widened at the wad of cash Mick had clenched between his fingers. He straightened out the bills, fanning them in her face like a deck of cards.
“It’s my old man’s, or it was,” Mick said. A cunning grin formed on his full lips.
It was more money than Cara had ever seen, aside from standing in line while at the bank.
“I found it stuffed behind the fucking insulation down in the basement,” Mick told her. “Fucking asshole ... says he never has any money. Well, now I’ve got a little over three G’s.”
They huddled in the dark alley, shuddering from a bone- chilling wind that tunneled around them.
Mick’s eyes flashed as he pushed the black wool cap back over his brows, displaying features that could easily swing between expressions, and at the drop of a hat. Cara had seen both sides, how Mick could look wonderfully handsome, as well as extremely intimidating.
He kept his dark hair buzzed close to his scalp. Mick had intense hazel eyes that seemed to change with his expressions, often looking as dark as cocoa with a leafy green incorporated in. Those unique eyes were paired with a strong, square jaw. His cheeks were always shaded with a hint of growth.
Checking both ends of the alley, Mick rolled the bills up, returning them to the safe confines of his pocket.
“What are you going to do with that money?” Cara pulled her hood over her head. 
 “It’s what we’re going to do with it,” Mick told her, his features sobering. He scoured the length of the alley once more, his voice lowering. “We’re getting the fuck outta here.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Cara felt her entire body go tight. The look on Mick’s face had her mind racing.
“Just look at our folks.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “There’s no future here. We live in The Hollow, remember?” Mick’s hand reached for her. His fingers dug into her arm. His grip seared through her heavy coat. Mick shook her, jarring her with the brutal truth of his words. “If we don’t get out of here now, we’ll never leave,” Mick whispered, his tone now dripping with an empathy Cara wasn’t familiar with. “There’s better, and I don’t need to become a goddamn basketball player to get it,” he said sharply.
Cara knew the resentment Mick had for his brother ran deep. All Mick’s parents cared about was Theo’s athletic success and what it could buy them later. Theo had won a scholarship for college and was now being considered for the NBA draft.
Mick had always fought to tame his jealousy, only ever getting the leftovers. He’d never been praised for his good grades. His father always told him there was never any money for him to even consider taking a night class at the local community college.
Mick was a short-order cook at the local diner, and a good one, but Cara knew his aspirations were always trying to reach higher.
They’d both been living day-to-day in The Hollow. Mick had been vowing since graduating high school that he was going to split. Cara had underestimated him. She thought this day would never come, assuming Mick shared her own fears about leaving, fears that were connected to failure, only having to return and admit defeat. Silence hung around them as dead leaves swirled in the wind before skidding across the asphalt.
They were already twenty-two years old. Mick was right. Very little had changed. Had Cara become so numbed by the same daily routine that she hadn’t noticed?
She’d been sloughing in a dead-end job, assembling pegboards at Rothmans’ Millworks. As Mick presented this blinding reality, Cara’s thoughts reverted back to her mother. Though Cara had always had shelter and food, her mother was foolish, shacking up with a new man every week.
 A gust of biting wind stung her eyes. Mick’s voice clawed its way through the shadows.
“We only get one fucking life, and this isn’t how it’s gonna be,” he said, jamming the toe of his sneaker into the concrete.
“Why do you want to take me?” Cara asked, her heart tripping at her own question. She and Mick had been what Cara always thought of as “survivor mates.” This was a radical move. Before she agreed to anything, she needed to know.
“No way am I leaving you here,” he told her through an irritated breath, his jaw tight. “It’s now or never. It’s this one second of indecision that can easily turn into many minutes. Minutes that turn into the hours of days, days that you can never get back. Faltering can do years of damage.” Mick swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing.
“Why does this feel like a top-secret mission?” Cara asked. “I can’t leave without telling my friends.”
“If we say the slightest thing all people will do is laugh,” Mick said, his tone scathing. “They’ll say our plan will never work, and we’ll be back. I will not listen to their fears of failure. People are also going to question where I got the funds to leave. I’d probably be arrested for stealing, knowing how gossip travels around this place.” Mick shook his head. “Tomorrow night is the night. Are you in, Cara?” 

JC Szot- Author

Monday, February 17, 2014

My Lover, My Dom by H.C. Brown

My Lover, My Dom by H.C. Brown

H.C. Brown’s long awaited Club Whips Series takes the reader into the no holds barred Whips Gay BDSM Club. With cameo appearances from some of the more colorful characters of Club Floggers, H.C. Brown introduces more of the Doms and delicious subs from the exciting world of rock n roll and big business.
Brad Morrison is a sub pure and simple. He wants Jett Silver, manager of Cold Heat but their yearlong friendship is just that . . . friendship, until Brad’s arranged marriage of convenience ends.
Jett Silver has waited patiently for Brad to find himself. Being his gym buddy has been agony but now he plans to train this delectable pup and collar him. With Jett’s best friend Nash Mage and his sub Paul on hand to help, Brad’s life becomes a living fantasy.

ALL Romance:

The cold tiles pressed into Brad’s chest. The exquisite thrill of pain followed by his Master’s tender touch undone him. He hovered on the edge of tears, need seared through him, burning flames of desire caressed his balls and shot up his shaft. He opened his stance and pushed his ass toward his Master. He wanted more and his knees shook in expectation of Jett’s hot tongue on him. He longed to sink into the wet warmth of Jett’s mouth but he craved more of his Dom. What would Jett be like inside the dungeon? A shiver of delight licked his balls. I can’t wait. Jett slapped again and the sound of his large hand hitting flesh echoed in the small room. Pain sizzled and Brad’s cock scraped against the wall. He rocked his hips and heard Jett growl. Oh, Lord! His Dom slid inquisitive fingers down the cleft of Brad’s ass. Hot breath brushed his cheek. Brad swallowed the moan of delight. The next moment Jett spun him around. He gazed into his Dom’s eyes. “Oh, fuck, I’m losing my mind. I want your mouth on me so fucking bad... Sir.”

The Foster Family by Jaime Samms

Blurb Growing up in foster care has left Kerry Grey with little self-esteem or hope for his future. A college dropout, Kerry scrapes by on a part-time job at a garden nursery. His friendship with his boss and working with the plants are the only high points in Kerry’s life. He’s been dating the man who bullied him at school, but when his boyfriend abandons him at a party, Kerry wanders down the beach to drown his sorrows in a bottle of scotch. 

Malcolm Holmes and Charlie Stone have been together for fifteen years. Despite Charlie's willingness to accept Malcolm's unspoken domination in bed,something is missing from their relationship. Early one morning, they rescue a passed out Kerry from being washed away by the tide and Charlie immediately senses a kindred spirit in the lost younger man. When Kerry’s roommate kicks him out, Malcolm and Charlie invite him into their home. As Charlie and Kerry bond over Charlie’s garden, Malcolm sees Kerry may be just who they have been looking for to complete their lives. All they have to do is show Kerry, and each other, that Kerry's submissive tendencies will fit their dynamic. 

But someone is sabotaging Kerry at every turn. As he struggles to discover the culprit, he fears for the safety of his new friends. If Malcolm and Charlie cannot help, their lifelong search for their perfect third may not end with the happily ever after they imagined.
Excerpt FUCKING HELL, it was freaking cold. Matthew had been in my room again. He must have, the bastard. He liked coming in and opening all the fucking windows to “air the place out.” He’d even open the one right over my bed when he figured I was hungover or aching from a nighttime visit from Andrew. It must have rained all night this time, because I was soaked. “Worst. Fucking. Roommate. Ever. Goddamn hotshot grad student can fucking well buy me a new fucking mattress now.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone swear that much.”

“You think we should wake him?”

“What the fuck!” I jolted upright. Grit scraped against my palms. Light speared my eyeballs, and I shuffled back toward the cold wall. Only there was nothing there, and I tumbled onto my back again. Chill seeped up around my shoulders to swallow me.

“Careful, now.” A hand reached for me, inserting itself into my narrow view of the too-bright world. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I fucking well am not! Who?” I finally pried my eyelids open and glared around. “Where the fuck am I?”

Two blurry men in shorts and sneakers and a lot of bare skin stood over me. They both had the right outline against the clear, torturous blue of the sky to be buff. Shirts trailed from the waistbands of their shorts. They both reached down big, tanned hands to within my nearsighted circle to steady me.

“These yours?” one of them asked, holding up a dark, squiggling blur.

“Gimme my fucking glasses.”

White split across both fuzzy faces.

“You have a special pair just for fucking?” One man tilted his head slightly. “That’s kind of kinky, isn’t it?”

“Charlie.” The other of the men glanced in the speaker’s direction. His voice was slightly admonishing, but not without humor. I just wasn’t sure if the amusement was being directed at me or not.

“Give me my fuc—” I let out a huff. “Can I please have my glasses?” I held up a hand, fully expecting it to get slapped aside and laughter to follow.

I knew how these things went. As soon as they realized I could see fuck all without the lenses, they’d keep them just out of reach to see how desperate I’d get to have them back. It was a common tactic, and a lot of experience with being on the wrong end of it reminded me that just sitting there being polite was the quickest way to get them too bored to continue the torment. Eventually they’d toss the glasses off somewhere and leave me alone.

Instead, a warm, strong hand gripped mine, and an even stronger tug encouraged me to scramble to my feet before I got my arm yanked out of my socket. As it was, my foot slipped again and I landed, face-first against a broad, sweaty, slightly hairy chest. I was not handed my glasses. They were gently set in place on my face, and once I had blinked the world back into focus, I found myself confronted by two very good-looking men, probably close to ten years older than me, arms crossed, faces almost stern as they studied me in turn.

“Missed the bus to the hotel, did you?” the one not named Charles asked.

I blinked at him again.
“The party last night, kid,” he said, indicating with a wave the golf course clubhouse down the beach. “You miss your ride home? Because I gotta tell you, sleeping on the beach, not such a stellar plan. Your suit’s toast, for one thing.” He gently straightened one of my lapels and pulled the drooping flower I’d stolen from a bouquet free of the pocket. He tossed it with a flick into the waves.

I looked down at myself and the three inches of water lapping around my feet.

“Tide’s coming in,” he went on. “I mean seriously. We’ve caught couples still necking on the boardwalk this early in the morning, but waiting to get washed out to sea? It was just a dance. Even if your girl left you on the dance floor, it can’t be that bad.”

“What the hell would you know about it?” I muttered.

They glanced at each other, then back at me as I patted my pockets for my keys and phone.

“You okay, kid?”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, going a little frantic when I found nothing but empty pockets. “Sorry I slept on your precious beach. Later.” I turned to go back the way I’d come the night before, hoping I’d find my missing life somewhere in the sand, but the way was impassable. The tide had devoured the beach right up to the stony cliff face that jutted out toward the sea about fifty feet off. It had claimed another inch of my pants as I stood there. My back was caked in saltwater and sand from lying on the ground, and my feet felt like ice inside my shoes.

“You’ll have to come up through the garden,” not-Charles said. “You can’t get back to the club along the beach now, and in another fifteen minutes, this section will be about six feet under water.” He turned to slosh through the ankle-deep water to a set of steps leading up through a carved-out section of the cliff. “Coming? Because you can stand there all day, but”—he tilted his head—“I don’t like your chances. You’ll be under the waterline.” He pointed to the evidence on the cliff face.

“I’m not short,” I protested.

They both smirked, but facts were facts. Six feet of water was about eight inches more water than I could comfortably stand flat-footed in and still be able to breathe, and since swimming in a suit was beyond stupid, I followed them up the steps.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Killian's Claim by Tyler Roberts

Killian’s Claim:
Six years ago, Quinn Kelly barely escaped the brutal murder of his parents. Now the lone-wolf is searching for a place to belong. Well aware of his proclivity for men, his nomadic life hasn’t allowed him to find anyone to call his own, until now.
Wolf-shifter and future alpha of his own pack, Killian Masters wants nothing more than his father’s approval. After meeting Quinn, he’s more determined than ever to make his father see who he is and how deeply he loves.
Captivated by their growing passion, the young lovers have a rude awakening when the vengeful alpha who murdered Quinn’s parents, finds him, and vows to destroy anyone who gets in his way.
Some say the battle between good and evil is determined by which power is fed the most, but in nature, no power compares to that of an alpha’s claim.

ARe Café/All Romance Books Author Page:

ADULT Excerpt:

He stood frozen in place, fists balled tight and his cock throbbing with ungodly need. He’d never been balls deep inside another man before, but the longer he stood there, the more he wanted it.
Killian kissed the curve of Quinn’s neck then began to suckle.
Quinn squeezed his eyes shut. How much more could he possibly take? Chills skittered across his skin causing ripples of goose-bumps to coat his tingling flesh. A sensual moan vibrated in his chest as he shuddered from the thrill of Killian’s touch.
Killian pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Follow your instincts.”
Quinn took a deep breath then clutched the back of Killian’s neck. “Like this?” No longer able to hold back, he lunged forward, engulfing Killian’s mouth with his while pushing him back toward the sofa.
Killian tripped over his own feet, and toppled onto the couch.
Quinn stood over him. His engorged cock jerked as Killian’s hungry gaze zeroed in. He slowly unzipped his jeans, taking his time. He then reached in, squeezed his prick and winced from the ache. His experience with blowjobs had been limited to quickies here and there, and even those were awkward, and over before he’d had time to savor the moment. Getting sucked off by some guy he’d never see again was much different from what was happening now.
Killian sat up, licking his lips, his gaze still fixated on Quinn’s crotch.
Courage he hadn’t expected suddenly engulfed Quinn as he offered his cock to Killian. “Take it.”
A devious grin spread across Killian’s face.
Quinn’s eyes rolled back, and his hips naturally bucked as Killian removed his cock from his jeans. Warm hands gripped it firmly, but not too hard. Quinn sucked air in through his teeth, shuddering as Killian began to stroke him. Slow and easy. Up and down.
He jolted when Killian took him in his mouth, hot and wet. “Fuck.” Never had anything felt so good. He peered down, then twisted the back of Killian’s hair into his fist, guiding his head back and forth as Killian took more and more of his cock into his mouth.
Killian gripped the base of Quinn’s shaft, quickening his pace, sucking and stroking simultaneously.
Quinn’s knees buckled, and he grabbed Killian’s shoulders to steady himself as heat flooded his groin. His cock pulsed, and he struggled to hold off as long as he could. He wanted so badly to lose his load in Killian’s mouth, but doing that would end the pleasure far too soon.

Tyler’s Naughty Notions:
Tyler’s Facebook Author Page:
Robin/Tyler’s Main Facebook Page:

Robin Badillo                    Tyler Robbins

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

WHATEVER HE DESIRES (Tribal Bonds 4) by Stormy Glenn

Tribal Bonds 4
Available now!
Drew Hamilton didn’t know why his lover suddenly left him. He just knew that he left. And Drew’s heart had been slowly dying ever since. When he attends a party with his roommate, he never expects to find his ex-lover, or discover the world Garret had been hiding from him from the moment they met.
Garret LaGaffe never wanted to leave Drew but he felt he had no other choice when he was ordered home by his Electus. Drew is human and bringing him back to a vampire tribe could endanger Drew more than Garret was willing to allow. Giving Drew up was a better choice…or so Garret believed until Drew showed up at a party hosted by his tribe.
Misunderstandings and hard decisions add to an already dangerous situation as Garret tries to find a way to have Drew in his life without putting the man in danger. When all of his effort results in the very thing he was working so hard to avoid, can Garret put aside his fear long enough to rescue his anamchara or will he lose Drew to his fears?

“Dance with me.”
The soft, sultry words danced over Drew’s skin like fireflies in moonlight. He leaned back against his lover, the man’s hard muscles rigid and firm against his back as he swayed gently to music only they could hear.
He felt uneven breathing on his cheek, a hardness pressing against his ass as his lover held him close. Drew closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the arms holding him close, the man that owned him heart and soul.
A thick arm wrapped around him, offering him the comfort of his lover’s body. A hand brushed through Drew’s silky strands as his temple was kissed, words of tenderness and affection murmured against his skin.
Drew’s skin tingled where his lover touched him, drawing a deep moan of pleasure from him. He was addicted to his lover’s touch, his thick, muscular frame and wide shoulders, the way his powerful well-muscled body moved with such easy grace. He had a ruggedness and vital power that attracted Drew from the very instant their eyes met over a crowded bar. It hadn’t abated in all the time they knew each other.
A hand roughened and callused from hard work gently gripped Drew’s chin, tilting his head back until firm lips could cover his. The brush of lips on Drew’s mouth and the longing in his body set him aflame.
The hands gently caressing his body were beautiful, long-fingered, and strong. They gave Drew a sense of protection from the outside world, and yet they brought him so much pleasure that he reeled every time he felt their sweet touch. He was a beautiful, strong, powerful man, and he wanted Drew.
He towered over other men by several inches, easily spotted in any crowd. He carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence that drew the eye of everyone around him. Men and women vied for his attention.
And yet, he picked Drew.
Drew would never understand how he ended up being chosen by the handsome, virile man behind him, but he would forever be grateful. He had never been happier than he had in the months since he met his lover.
Time had stood still. It was like the world around them stopped moving just to stare at the lovers. They moved together in perfect harmony, each man knowing what would please the other and wanting nothing more than their complete happiness.
It was pure bliss, a dream that Drew never wanted to wake from.
“The phone, Drew.”
Drew laughed as he pressed further back against his lover. He had no intention of bursting his euphoric bubble by answering the damn phone. “Let it ring,” he murmured as he turned his head and pressed his lips against his lover’s salty skin. “The answering machine will get it.”
“The phone, Drew!”
Drew frowned at the more aggressive tone. It wasn’t like his lover to use that deep, assertive tone with him. He was always gentle when speaking to Drew.
“Damn it, Andrew! Answer the freaking phone!”
Drew’s pleasure-filled haze was shattered as he opened his eyes and realized he stood in his kitchen all alone, no lover wrapped around him, touching him, caressing him…loving him.
He stumbled in his haste to grab onto the kitchen counter before he collapsed to the floor, the memories of what he had had and what he had lost drawing every last bit of strength from his body. He leaned against the counter, burying his face in his hands, his despair so heavy it almost pulled him under into the abyss.
“Fuck, Drew. Is there some damn reason you couldn’t answer the phone?” Sam asked as he stomped into the kitchen and grabbed the phone of the hook, one hand holding his pants up. “A guy can’t even take a piss around here without the damn thing ringing off the hook.”
Drew blinked, his emotions still chaotic and muddled.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Hello?”
Needing to feel numb again, Drew scrambled to open the cupboard above the stove and grab the bottle of whiskey he kept there. He started to twist the lid off of the bottle when Sam reached over and snagged it right out of his hands.
“Yes, that will be fine,” Sam said into the phone as he rolled his eyes and poured the alcohol down the sink. “We’ll see you at eight then. Good-bye.” Sam hung up the phone and tossed the empty liquor bottle into the trash at the same time, and then he turned to glare at Drew. “You do not need to get drunk—again.”
“No!” Sam held up his hand, stopping Drew, his eyes narrowed in anger. “I’ve seen you drunk enough in the last few months to last me a lifetime. It’s going to stop, Drew.”
Again, Sam held up his hand. “No, Drew. It stops now.”
Drew’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t intend to get drunk. I just—” He shrugged because he really didn’t have words to explain why he had been drinking so much. It wasn’t as if he wanted to become an alcoholic.
There were just times when the memories became too much and he needed to get away from them…or move closer to them. He was never quite sure what would happen when he started drinking. Either he would forget his lover ever existed or drown in memories of him.
Both tore at Drew’s soul.


The soft brushing of Garret’s fingers against his collarbone made Drew’s breath quicken with need.His resistance to Garret was paper thin. When Garret’s fingers trailed up the soft curve of his neck until the he could cup Drew’s jaw and tilt his head, Drew didn’t even try to stop him. He just leaned his head back until it rested on Garret’s shoulder as they started swaying back and forth, dancing without moving a single step. They had done this often when they lived together.
Drew missed it.
“I missed you, chara.” Garret’s voice rumbled in Drew’s ear, sending a shockwave of lust radiating throughout his body. “I’ve been so cold, Drew. I haven’t been warm since I last held you in my arms.”
Drew almost smiled at Garret’s admission. The man had always run a little on the cold side. When they live together, Garret would wrap himself around Drew like a blanket every night when they went to bed. Drew woke more than once feeling like he had been caught by an octopus.
He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Garret left.
Before Drew could form an answer, Garret’s lips slammed down over his. Drew groaned when Garret ran his tongue quickly across his lips before diving into his mouth, kissing him for all he was worth.
It was a kiss of possession, pure and simple. And it was filled with so much need that Drew wondered if he had lost his mind somewhere along the way. If Garret wanted him this damn much, why had the man left? The hunger in the kiss alone was eating Drew alive and pulling him under into a raging sea of raw desire.
Drew’s hands clutched at Garret’s shoulders as he explored the depths of his mouth, running his tongue along the seam of Drew’s lips. He placed his hands on Garret’s chest, once again ready to push the man away…until Garret’s tongue swept inside Drew’s mouth.
He curled his fingers into Garret’s shirt, pulling the man closer, hitching one leg onto Garret’s side, wanting—no needing—him closer. Garret slammed his hands on either side of Drew’s head, pinning him to the wall.
Drew shivered, burrowing into the heat of the man’s big body. He should be telling Garret to fuck off. He should be telling Garret that he waited too long to come back, that he never should have left in the first place. Drew should be telling Garret a whole lot of things, but all he could say was, “Please.”
God, he was such a fucking mess.
“Do you want to get fucked, chara?”
A low and undistinguished sound left Drew’s lips.
Garret ran his fingers through Drew’s hair and then yanked the strands back, exposing Drew’s neck and sending shock waves through his body. The look in Garret’s eyes told Drew who was the predator and who was prey.
Drew swallowed hard.
Garret chuckled dark and low.
Drew knew he was in deep trouble.
When Garret stepped back, Drew bolted, running down the hallway toward his bedroom. As much as he wanted this, he wasn’t going to put on a show for his roommate. He heard a deep and sinister chuckle before the sound of heavy footfalls pounded behind him.
Drew made the mistake of looking over his shoulder.
Garret was bearing down on him.
With a shout, Drew picked up speed and headed straight into his bedroom, trying his damnedest to slam the door closed. Garret apparently wasn’t having that. He barreled into the bedroom, caught Drew around the waist, and lifted him off his feet. Drew went sailing through the air, landing on the bed with a large bounce.
Garret took a step back from the bed, damn near ripping his clothes from his body. All Drew could do was watch in pure fascination as all that tanned flesh was revealed to him.
“You have two choices, Drew. Willingly get undressed or have your clothes shredded.” The look in Garret’s eyes said he wasn’t joking.
Drew was so fucking turned on a wet spot appeared in the front of his pants. Garret inhaled deeply as if he could smell the drops of pre-cum dripping from Drew’s cock. His eyes drifted down Drew’s body, landing on the wet spot. Drew yelped a moment later when Garret grabbed him, flipped him over, and proceeded to tear his clothes from his body.
“Roll over onto your back, chara,” Garret commanded.
Drew twisted around and lay back on the mattress, scrambling to do as the larger man commanded. His skin buzzed with excitement at the knowledge that Garret was going to fuck him. He lay on his back and spread his legs wide, inviting the larger man to have his wicked way with him.
“Very nice, chara.”
Drew thrilled at the praise. He fisted the sheets as Garret crawled onto the bed, smoothing his hands over Drew’s legs. He was dying to move, to wiggle around and beg Garret to fuck him already, but he bit back his urges.
His eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head as Garret’s fingertips played over his skin, slowly making their way toward his hardened shaft. Drew almost whined at the slow pace.
“Has there been anyone else, chara?” The words were murmured against his skin, Garret’s lips ghosting over his throat and to whisper in his ear. “Has anyone touched you?”
Drew wanted to say yes, to make Garret hurt as much as he had when the man left, but he couldn’t. The aching need in Garret’s voice begged for Drew to tell the truth, and the truth was Drew couldn’t stand the idea of anyone except Garret touching him. It made his skin crawl just thinking about being intimate with someone else.
“No,” Drew whispered then sucked in his bottom lip and bit down on it to keep from making another admission—that he didn’t want anyone but Garret.

Strands of Silk and Fire by K.B. NELSON

To what extremes would you go to return humankind to its full creative potential after generations of game-leveling genetic tampering? 

For the followers of a martyred genetic engineer named James Illion, the answer is obvious—all the way to the very edge of the death of civilization itself.  Joshua 1011, the artificially created son of Illion, finds he is the carrier of a deadly and life-altering viral weapon.  As his lover, Matthew Dennon, and his sometimes-enemy Adam struggle to find a way to save Earth and themselves, an old intelligence stirs in the depths of a vast interstellar computer network.  It has worn many masks, evolving and changing over the course of centuries.  But its time to act has come because it, too, knows that the only way forward for all of life, both biological and man-made, will be a path both breathtaking and destructive, and that the cost may be the end of nearly everything that came before.

From sensitive m/m romance to high adventure, from a love-sick artificial life form to young men who begin to bridge multiple realities, Strands of Silk and Fire will lead you into a time where intuition must become the best defense, and imagination, the sharpest weapon of all.

Available in audio late Spring 2014 from audible iTunes and with narrator Gregory Peyton

Title is currently under a giveaway promotion until February 14 on to win one of three copies.


Adam wove himself quickly into the shadows of the bay, hunkered, watchful.  He knew there was no way L Group would have come at the medcenter from just one angle.  They were here, silent, waiting.  He just had to find them first.  Otherwise, game over in a very messy way.
I am going to give you new eyes, a voice in his skull murmured.  He knew that voice, the deep tones that the AI named Raven had chosen for himself.
A brief wave of nausea and vertigo swept over Adam and he crouched, his fingers touching the dusty floor.  It passed quickly, and he raised his head.
“Oh,” he breathed.  It was like he could see through twisted hulks of shuttles, cranes, and cement, could see the red heat signatures of L Groupers crouched and moving toward his location.  But everything was slightly off, as if something was interpreting angles from a higher location and then making adjustments for his current position.  “Security feeds,” he murmured.  “Nice.”
You don’t have to talk out-loud to me.  Just think it, clearly.
We need to move.
You mean you need to move, Raven retorted.  Fifteen steps to your northeast—a small hole you can block.  Metal casings will make any scans of that area inconclusive.  Go now.
Small hole?
Move Adam.  Move now or I will move you.
He could see the soldiers easing ever closer, the way they crouched and searched.  They knew they were looking for one of their own gone bad.  For one moment, he simply considered rushing them. They wouldn’t expect a head-on assault.  But before he could rise, his body dropped flat of its own accord and slithered over the debris. 
Stop it! Adam felt a piece of metal bite into his hand, and still Raven drug him forward. It was horrific, feeling his body animated by something outside of himself, as if he were just a ship following the commands of the central computer.  Another long tooth of cement caught his pant-leg, ripping it cleanly from knee to ankle and scoring his skin as well.
Let me go!
I will not let you die.
All right. I’ll go where you say, but let go of my body.  You’re leaving a bloody trail with parts of me, don’t you get it? A trail they can follow.
I am sorry.  My comprehension of motor control is obviously still evolving.
Adam fell flat against the ground as Raven left him again.  He heaved himself up and ran low and crouching.  He couldn’t see much cover in this direction—great slabs of heat-resistant concrete-Astazia blends gleamed even through the dust. 
That shadow line—can you see it now?
He could but he didn’t like it one bit.  Two plates of debris had slid over each other, one plunging downward, the other upward into a small ridge.  Right at that fault line he could see a narrow darkness.
There is a small space just under the lip of the lower debris plate.  Even if they shine light down, they will not see you and the Astazia ore will deflect heat signatures.  GO!
Adam crept over the lip, his eyes straining into the darkness.  He forced himself to slide in on his belly, and shoved himself up under the lip.  The rock and metal hung mere inches above his chest.
Your heart and breathing rates are accelerating in an alarming manner, Commander. Those soldiers won’t need special equipment—they’ll hear you.  You must calm down.
I can’t do this.  I can’t do…small spaces.  Adam shut his eyes, his hands knotted at his sides, burning with anxiety.  Just a little settling of the tons of weight above, and he would be just so much jelly.
Yes you can.  Remember your beach.  Think of the blue sky above you, the sound of waves.
It’s too close. I’ll be crushed here.  I’ll die here.  It’s a grave.  A fucking grave.
And then Adam felt a soft weight touch him.  He opened his eyes and could see only Raven’s face above him, gold-flecked eyes and wild tangled hair framed by the sky. One hand rested on his breastbone, light but steady, a living raft riding the wave of his breath.  Stay with me.  Just look at me.  Yes.  Better.  His lips didn’t move, but Raven smiled, his lips curving up enough to show just the edge of his teeth. 
They’ll find us. They’ll kill us.
No.  Just breathe. Raven leaned closer, his breath smelling of cinnamon and coconut.  Breathe with me, Adam.
What…what do you want from me, Raven?
The smile widened.  Maybe I want to work on my fine motor control.
Adam stopped breathing as the dark-hair illusion dropped closer and kissed him.  It was not hungry nor was it chaste.  It was a kind of tasting, lips murmuring against each other, then the barest tip of a tongue, running the fine line between soft skin and stubble. Erotically scientific, he supposed. Adam tried to turn his head away, confused, but Raven’s hand caught up his blond hair and held him firmly.
Kiss me back.
You want to, Adam.  It’s not like I have to second-guess you.  I can feel it, rippling in your brain’s pleasure centers.  Kiss me.
He supposed he couldn’t argue with that.  Adam felt his imaginary arms raise, folding around Raven and drawing him closer.  This was a delicious pressure, and he opened his mouth to the other, their tongues contending until he fairly lapped at the taste, the ridged peaks of teeth, the smooth gums.  Raven shifted lower, his whole body lengthening over Adam’s, and he could feel the arousal there, nudging his own.  Raven moved against him, a slow pelvic tilt as he continued to kiss and be kissed. His long body was so lean, the feel so much like Joshua’s had been, all muscle gliding beneath dark skin, sliding against his own strong frame. 
But there were still clothes in the way, just loose pants again, like in his beach dream.  He tried to reach down, to shove the fabric away, but Raven caught up his wrists, holding him.  Clothes do not matter.
What?  Adam struggled a little against Raven grip.
Raven lightened abruptly, his features smoking.  Adam could feel a presence extend into him first like a covering of silk, and then, sinking, as if Raven were pouring himself through the very pores of his skin.  Adam’s vision went dark, but he could feel Raven curling in his cock, his balls, riding along the lines of his bones, his lips, and then a bright light burst in his brain, brilliant, spacious.  For one moment, he sensed streams of data rushing at him as if he were standing just beneath a newly awakened waterfall.  He was looking up and almost cringed away, all those shards of brilliance crashing down on him, but they never hit—they flowed around him, swirling around him, now a swarm of fireflies and everywhere they touched there was heat and pleasure. He gasped, hanging in a place where every nerve ending vibrated with music, with light, and through it all, the sweet, cloying taste of Raven. 
The fire dropped into one center of his brain, and he could feel only his passion then, the need to take and be taken, a union and sweet contention.
He came then, his back arching but even then, he was held upright without his feet touching anything at all, his cock jerking yes, but that was incidental, far away.  The space, the light, it was all.  No boundaries, Raven and he dancing together, closer than any skin ever allowed two lovers to touch.
And then Raven was settling him back down in the sand, curling around him, laughing, petting him with human feeling hands, stroking him, chest and belly as he curled up in the crook of a machine mind’s arms.  Sleep, my Adam.  You must sleep.  But I will hold you. I will watch over you.
Adam couldn’t form a coherent answer, but sleep?  That he could do.  For days he had not really closed his eyes.  Despite the close ceiling and the L Groupers poking around above him, he let himself go.