Friday, October 30, 2015

Safety in Numbers by Jessie G

“Bros stick together no matter what.”
When Chris and Liam made that promise, they had no idea how important it would become or how it would be tested in the most brutal way. Nine years later, their bond cemented in blood, that relationship is all they have to hold on to. 
“No matter what happens, this friendship will be the one constant we can count on.”
When Billy and Owen made that promise, they knew exactly how dangerous the world could be. They survived prison by protecting each other and they survived freedom by holding that promise sacred. Now they want more than just to survive and they want it from the brothers whose bond is as strong as their own.
“We are stronger together than we’ll ever be apart.”
When Owen reaches his breaking point, Chris jumps at the chance to make things right for all of them. With the future in their grasp, will they realize their strength is in their numbers and finally become the family they crave?
Author’s Note: This is NOT a foursome, but the story of two couples that needed to be told together.

That silence hid a lot from their friends, but Liam knew Chris was plagued with memories far worse than his. That’s why they decided not to celebrate alone this year. Billy and Owen were expected any minute and it was the first time they invited anyone to join them. The anniversary was bittersweet for them and they chose to celebrate it because becoming brothers meant that much to them. “Do you think they’ll find it stupid?”
Chris just shrugged as if it was no skin off his back what they thought and Liam knew that was just bravado. Fact was, they both very much cared what the two men thought. “Liar.”
His brother sighed and dropped his head back. As if shit wasn’t fucked up enough, they fell for two bastards just as fucked up as they were. “I know you’re worried about Owen. The business with Colin is growing out of their control and I’m not sure why he thinks it’s a good thing. Is he trying to prove something? And the middle of the night phone calls from the FTR? He’s looking more and more fragile every day.”
Liam knew he wasn’t stating anything new. What he didn’t know was what Chris intended to do about it. Lately, when it came to Owen, Chris conveyed zero intent and seemed to be waiting for Owen to read him as effortlessly as Liam did. Their brother bond had been forged through blood and he was afraid Chris’s expectations of Owen were unreasonable. “Do you see his face every time he thinks he’s failed to understand you? The weight of it is crushing.”
Instead of regret, all Liam saw was anger in Chris. It wasn’t a common emotion for Chris and Liam could name every time he saw it. The fact that Chris knew what he was capable of if provoked had made him extremely conscious of that emotion and he often went to great lengths to contain it. 
Owen was the very definition of insecure. Just the type to inspire Chris’s protective instincts, which Liam knew for a fact Owen did. Hell, he inspired Liam’s protective instincts. Owen was stubborn though and he often distanced himself, keeping things bottled up until they manifested elsewhere. Like in panic attacks that felt like heart attacks, which he also tried to hide. Liam nearly lost it when they found out that Billy was keeping Owen’s secret.
Chris nodded slowly, as if he completely followed Liam’s train of thought and waited for him to connect the dots. And just like that, Liam understood. “You’re pissed because he doesn’t come to you when the panic sets in. That he hides it from you and they hide it from us.”
It made total sense, but he had to wonder if they were expecting too much. After all, they couldn’t call what was going on with either man a relationship. No, they were four fucked up bastards trying to come together in some romanticwhat? Not a foursome, eww…he loved Chris, but yeah, that just wasn’t happening. And Owen wasn’t his type any more than Billy was Chris’s type. But—always with the fucking buts, right?—what was happening was very definitely happening to the four of them, and Liam now had to wonder if that was the problem, because trying to come together was definitely not the same as being together.
Chris shook his head and shifted in his seat. No, he was right. It wasn’t just their brother bond that made it impossible to move forward as two separate couples. Billy and Owen had formed their own unique friendship in prison and were no more likely to move forward without the other one either. “Just once, couldn’t we have done something the easy way?”
The fire door banged open and Liam turned to see Billy and Owen, arms full of brightly wrapped packages, struggling to pull a huge cluster of balloons through the door. It was a shocking contrast to their dark thoughts and so uncharacteristically sweet of both men. Billy caught their surprised stare and yelled, “Is this where the party’s at?” 
“It is now.” It might seem silly, but it was exactly what they needed and exactly who they needed it from. Maybe they hadn’t been expecting too much at all. Liam rose to give them a hand and glanced down to see the look of longing in Chris’s eyes and thought maybe it was time they all expected more.

Monday, October 19, 2015

Promises by A.E.VIA

Duke Morgan owns and operates one of the largest bail bond companies in Atlanta. Not only does he bond criminals out of jail, he and his notorious group of bounty hunters will also track them down and ensure they show up for court.
Roman ‘Quick’ Webb is Duke’s business partner and best friend. Both men are in their forties and have given up on the happily ever after with the ranch-style home, and white picket fence. They’d both tried it and failed miserably. But they have their friendship and they have the business.
When Quick’s son, Vaughan Webb returns – after seven years - from studying abroad with his law degree in hand, he’s back to claim what he’s always wanted…his fathers’ best friend… Duke Morgan. Vaughan has always claimed to be a classic gentleman with an old soul. He didn’t party and screw up in school like his buddies. He was focused and dedicated to becoming the man worthy of Duke’s love.
It’s a complex and messy situation as Duke and Quick figure out how to still be best friends when one of them is sleeping with his friend’s one and only son. But when Duke is hurt on the job, all the unimportant trivialities fall to the wayside and Vaughan and Quick put their heads together to save Duke.
Part I of the Promises story is about Duke and Vaughan. Part II will be about Quick and his realization that it’s not too late for any of them to find love.

Author Bio

A.E. Via is still a fairly new author in the beautiful gay erotic genre. Her writing embodies everything from spicy to scandalous. Her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.
When she’s not clicking away at her laptop, she devotes herself to her family—a husband and four children, her two pets, a Maltese dog and her white Siamese cat, ELynn, named after the late, great gay romance author E. Lynn Harris.
While this is only her eighth novel, she has plenty more to come. So stalk her – she loves that - because the male on male action is just heating up!

Go to A.E. Via’s official website for more detailed information on how to contact her, follow her, or a sneak peak on upcoming work, free reads, and where she’ll appear next.


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Coming October 29th
Bear shifter Rob Colton is excited about the future, and after graduating, he is ready to start the next phase of his life. He never expects that life to include a frightened young man that darts out in front of his truck. But one whiff of Casey's sweet smell and Rob knows his future was going to be brighter than ever. He has found his true mate.
Orphaned at an early age, Casey Newton has been bounced from foster home to foster home, never quite finding a place to call his own. When a big burly man decides Casey is his true mate, the cold and lonely world Casey grew up in begins to change. For once in his life, someone wants him.
But wanting someone and keeping them safe are two very different things. When the man that has terrorized Casey for most of his life comes after him again, can Casey trust Rob to protect him or will he be tossed away like he has every other time in his life? And will the bond between mates be strong enough to withstand losing everything they hold dear?

Rob grinned when he heard his best friend’s unique ring tone blare on his phone. He tapped his Bluetooth earpiece, connecting him to the call. “Yo, dude, we did it.”
“Right?” Billy Ray Jenson replied.
“I can’t believe it’s finally over.”
“Yeah, man, school sucked.”
Rob couldn’t agree more.
“We still meeting out by the river tonight?” He couldn’t wait to celebrate.
He had wanted to drop out of school when he turned eighteen and go to work fulltime in his father’s construction company. His parent’s made him stay in school, and now he was glad they did, but the last few months had been the hardest.
Unlike the rest of the known universe, shifters had to attend an additional three years of school. Most humans assumed it was some sort of advanced college courses, and maybe that was true to some extent. The courses they took taught them about their bear history. It taught them how to control their beasts when they were faced with violence or situations that forced their bear to the surface.
It taught them how to be better bears.
 “You know it.”
“You and Jed grab the beer,” Rob said. “I’ll bring some steaks.”
Billy Ray was a man of few words, at least few comprehensible words.
“I need to swing by the house and grab few things then I’ll head out to the river.” And he wanted to talk to his parents now that he had finished school. He wanted to go to work for his father fulltime. He had been dreaming of working side by side with his dad since he was seven years old and picked up his first hammer.
“See you out there.” Rob chuckled as he disconnected the call. He was still reeling from the fact that he had finally graduated. It felt like he had been attending school forever and he had finally been set free. His bear wanted to roar.
“Holy fucking shit!” Rob slammed on the breaks, his eyes rounding as his truck slid to a stop mere inches from the small figure racing across the road in front of him.
Wide eyes the color of the warm caramel and edged with kohl peered up at him over the hood of the truck, big fat tears dripping from them down pale white cheeks. Time seemed to stand still as Rob sank into those big liquid eyes, drowning in them.
Then the man blinked, his dark thick eyelashes sweeping over his pale tear stained cheeks as he huddled further into his dark grey hoodie. He turned and started across the road again, the moment broken.
Rob stared after the lone figure, stunned by the overpowering emotions suddenly running rampant through him. He didn’t understand why his stomach clenched at the sight of those tears or why his dick became so hard he could have punched a hole through a steel plate.
But he was going to find out.
Rob growled as he drove his truck to the side of the road and turned the engine off. He jumped out of the truck and raced after the little man, catching sight of him hurrying down a dirt path on the side of the road that led into the woods.
He quickly caught up with his prey, barely panting from exertion. He grabbed the guy’s arm, his eyebrows shooting up when the guy instantly dropped to the ground and curled into himself.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” the man whimpered as he covered his head with his arms.
Rob growled, his gaze snapping back and forth as he scanned his immediate surroundings for signs of danger. Spotting nothing out of place, Rob lifted his nose and drew in a lungful of air. He smelled the forest—trees and dirt and the slightly musty smell of dead leaves.
And apples…cinnamon and apples.
Rob frowned in confusion. If he didn’t know better, he’d think someone was out in the middle of the woods baking an apple pie. God, he loved apple pie. It was without a doubt his favorite desert next to honey.
Nothing tasted better than honey.
Dismissing his wild thoughts, Rob turned his attention back to the man cowering on the ground at his feet. A deep mind numbing rage began to take hold of him when he noticed the bruises showing up through the rips in the man’s hoodie. There was even a trickle of blood at the corner of the man’s mouth, no doubt due from the cut on his fat lip.
Someone had worked this poor guy over, and hard.
Rob squatted down next to the smaller man. Jeez, he had to outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds if not more. The little thing was all skin and bones.
And bruises, there were a shitload of bruises.
“What happened, cub?” Rob spoke in his gentlest voice, which wasn’t easy when his usual tone was deep and rough. It matched his looks. He was big and fierce and made like a brick shit house. And for once in his life, he wished he wasn’t so intimidating.
The poor thing was going to shake apart.
“Sshhh, it’s okay.” Rob tried to sooth the man by rubbing his back. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
When a little of the tension eased in the man’s body, Rob lifted him up into a sitting position, surprised by how easily he could move the guy. He had lifted heavier bags of cement.
Big liquid brown eyes peeked up at Rob through a fall of honey blond hair. Rob reached down and gingerly touched the man’s swollen bottom lip, grimacing at the wince of pain that crossed the guy’s face.
“What happened to you, cub?”
“They took my bike.” The words were whispered in the sweetest voice Rob had ever heard. It wrapped around him like a blanket of tranquility he had never felt in all his years. If he had been a cat he would have purred.
He wasn’t a cat.
“Who took your bike, cub?”
“Casey,” the man said as his eyes flickered up for a moment before darting away. “My name is Casey Newton, not cub.”
Rob chuckled at the small flicker of defiance he could see in those warm caramel brown eyes. He knew who Casey was. While they didn’t run in the same circles, Rob had seen the man around town. He might not have known his name until now, but he knew who Casey was.
“I like cub.”
And he liked this particular cub. The draw to cradle Casey in his arms and hold him close, protecting him from all the evils in the world was riding him hard. Rob had felt the same way each time one of his siblings came into the world, just never to this magnitude.
He’d kill a rock for his mate…

Rob fisted a handful of Casey's hair and pulled gently until the man's head was tilted back and then he lowered his head, pressing their mouths together in a gentle kiss.
There was a quality to kissing Casey that was unparalleled to anyone Rob had kissed in the past. Casey didn't just press his lips to someone's and move them around a little bit. He leaned into the kiss and put his entire body into it.
It was a kiss for his tired soul to melt into.
As his tongue explored at its leisure, Rob gently stroked the lissome body pressed against him. Needing just a little bit more, Rob slid his tongue inside the warm heat of Casey’s mouth, tasting him, devouring what the man had to offer.
As he pulled back, he nipped Casey's bottom lip with his teeth.
"I ache, Rob." As if to emphasize his words, Casey rubbed against Rob, leaving no doubt as to what he meant. Casey's cock was like a steel rod in his pants.
Rob swallowed hard as the lust igniting in his gut burned away his ability to breath. He glanced toward the kitchen where he could hear his parents talking in low voices. He knew he would get his head handed to him if he took Casey upstairs and claimed him as he really wanted to do. But that didn't mean he couldn't take the edge off until he could.
He lifted Casey up in his arms and carried him out of the living room and down the hallway to the guest bathroom. He stepped inside and set Casey down on the bathroom counter before turning back and locking the door.
Once he turned back to Casey, he leaned in for another kiss. Their lips met again but this time it wasn't the slow tender and gentle thing it had been before. This time it was out of control, maddeningly frantic, needy. Blood pounded in his brain, leapt from his heart, and made his knees tremble.
Casey’s skin was flushed, his beautiful face transformed by the flush of desire. Rob hadn’t thought Casey could get any better-looking, but staring down at the man, he knew he had been wrong. His mate was breathtaking.
He was one lucky bear.
Rob leaned forward, inhaling Casey’s scent from collarbone to ear, taking in the scent of cinnamon and apples. The sweet fragrance rushed back into Rob in a wave of intoxication. Smelling Casey was hardening his cock. Rob loved the smell of the man, was addicted to his delicious flavor.
There was a pull that was almost maddening in his mind. Rob wanted to sink deep into the man’s soul and never come out. It was a need so strong that Rob let it wash over him and carry him under.
He glanced down at his mate, staring as he snaked his hand into Casey’s jeans and massaged the heated flesh tenting up his pants. It was hard, but felt like liquid silk under his fingers with the pre-cum leaking over Rob’s fingers.
Lifting his hand to his mouth, Rob sucked his fingers in, the tangy taste rolling over his taste buds like nectar to a bee. He groaned, licking each finger clean before he pulled at the waistband of Casey’s pants, chasing the material down Casey’s body until he could toss the fabric aside.
Casey lay there on the counter, stunningly naked, exposed to Rob’s appreciative eyes. He drank the man in as he pushed Casey’s thighs apart.
He found himself wanting to rub his scent all over Casey again. The urge was strong, compelling him to lean forward until his stomach was touching Casey’s erection. He rubbed his body over Casey’s length, feeling the pre-cum trailing over his skin.
“Rob?” Casey asked.
Rob grinned as he dropped down until his head was even with Casey’s weeping cock. He licked a path down Casey's abdomen to his cock. He nuzzled in the wiry curls before licking his way up the fully hard shaft and sucking at the engorged head to savor Casey’s pre-cum.
Casey groaned out his pleasure as Rob swallowed the erection to the root. Using his tongue, Rob laved the tender depression beneath the swollen crown and then tongue-fucked the tiny slit, licking away the salty taste of Casey’s desires.
“Please,” Casey hissed as he gripped the edge of the countertop until his knuckles turned white.
Rob placed Casey's feet on his shoulders and then pushed his knees apart. He wished he had a camera to take a picture of what was most definitely the most erotic sight he had ever seen. His jeans became tight, quickly growing uncomfortable.
Rob splayed his fingers over Casey's nicely rounded ass cheeks and pulled them apart before abandoning the man's cock and lowering his head to lick at his tight puckered hole. The high keening cry that came from his mate made Rob's bear rumble. The desire to take Casey and claim him was riding him hard and it was all Rob could do to keep his bear at bay.
He concentrated on pleasing his mate, which seemed to satisfy his bear. Making sure he left plenty of spittle behind, Rob swallowed the man's cock again. At the same time, he pushed his finger into Casey's ass, curving his finger up to reach that special spot.
Casey bucked, driving his cock deep. Rob sucked harder. He wanted, needed, his lover's seed in his mouth. When Casey cried out and filled Rob's mouth with his release, Rob swallowed greedily, savoring the salty taste of his lover's cream.
Rob fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, frantic. His balls burned, and at this intensity, Rob knew he wasn’t going to last long. He jumped to his feet and shoved his jeans down his thighs. Grabbing his aching shaft, Rob began pumping his hand at a frantic rate.
Rob's eyes snapped to Casey. He felt his balls draw up tight to his body when the man lifted his hoodie up to his throat, baring his stomach and chest. "Come on me. I want to smell like you."
His mate's simple request was all it took for Rob to find his release. Rob came with an incoherent, hoarse shout. He spurted hot jets of cum all over Casey's naked skin, marking him in a way that every bear would understand.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015



LGBTQ Romance Survey for Jessica Freely 

The results of the 2015 LGBTQ Romance Reader's Survey are up on my website.

Thanks so much for your time and your voice!
Jessica Freely


Monday, October 12, 2015

The Case of the Arms Dealers by Jenna Rose and Katey Hawthorne

Coming October 20th from Loose Id

Blurb: John Tilney--praeternatural pyrokinetic and mystery author--has noticed the bottom dropping out of the market for his usual gothic fare, so he goes to Lowell Kanaan, PI, for a crash course in noir. Lowell, the cranky wolf-shifter detective, isn't sure why he agrees to let John shadow him--though it might have something to do with John's weirdly endearing honesty... and pretty lips. John thinks he's found the perfect detective novel hero in Lowell, but it isn't long before he realizes he doesn't want Lowell for his book, but for himself.

As they become entangled in a supernatural whodunnit involving the Zombie Mafia, black market body parts, and shady insurance deals, their partnership grows closer--and hotter. But when it comes down to the wire, Lowell's wolfy protective side threatens to drive John around the bend, or at least out of the office. Good thing John's as much sunshine as he is fire; hopefully it's enough to help them catch a murderer before they end up in literal pieces, too.

John finished ordering a couple of coffees when Lowell appeared at the door of the diner. Looking dead cool, as usual: battered leather jacket, jeans (showed off his assets nicely, John had occasion to notice now and then, but far from his own preferred skinny cut), black shitkickers. Plus that serious expression of his, which might’ve ruined the sculpted prettiness of his face somewhat if it didn’t suit him so well.

Oh, that was good stuff. John pulled out his notebook and was already scribbling the description when Lowell got to the table. He did manage to say, “Hello, there.”

“Hey.” Lowell slid into the booth across from him.

“I’m glad you didn’t try to talk your way out of it,” John said, all cheerful. He punctuated his last sentence with a flourish, then cocked an eyebrow in a mockery of suspicion. “No, wait. You haven’t come to tell me we’re not going to see Ms. Quintus, have you? Or that you expect me to go it alone?”

“You’ve got me pegged, don’t you?” Lowell pulled a menu over. “We’re going.” There was another one of those tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Surprised?”

“Only very slightly.” John made a note, saying out loud as he wrote, “Susceptible to guilt and begging. Good to know.”

And then, before Lowell could do more than frown, John said, “I ordered coffee. So what’s our plan with Ms. Quintus?”

“Thanks,” Lowell said. Then without looking up from the menu, added, “Besides question her?”

John shoved his notebook back into his weathered leather messenger bag—a souvenir of a research trip to El Paso when he was sixteen—and didn’t bother to close it up again. It seemed far more important to purse his lips at Lowell. At least, as long as he could before he broke it with a chuckle. The grouchiness worked too; John could definitely use that in the book. “You know what I mean! What’s the order of operations? You talked to her. You said she seemed surprised no one had heard from or seen him. So do we start by asking her when the last time she saw him was? The police will have been all over her about it already. Will she be annoyed with us for asking again? And what then? Ask her about friends, other people to talk to? What’s your method?”

“I’ll—” Lowell stopped, then made John smile when he corrected himself to, “We’ll ask her if there’s anything she can tell us and then just let her talk. I like to let people talk first. It helps them get their thoughts in order. Then we ask questions. Cover anything she might have missed or that we want clarified or anything we find suspicious. A lie can be unraveled pretty quickly if you ask the right questions.”

Normally John liked to take notes about this kind of thing, but since he was about to see it in action, he’d just let it all congeal. Try living in the moment, getting the full Lowell Kanaan picture rather than trying to keep track of pieces. It was his first opportunity, maybe his last if this was the wild-goose chase Lowell expected. John had no intention of wasting it. “Start it out; then play it by ear, is what you’re saying. Keenly developed detective senses and all that.”

Lowell huffed a laugh, which made John rather proud. Lowell said, “Yeah, I guess that is what I’m saying.”

“Then I will take the opportunity to observe them at long last.” John looked up as the server brought the coffees, and gave her a smiling thank-you. After both men placed lunch orders, she disappeared. As in, literally. “Nice,” John said. “Not every day you get to see apportation in action either.”

“Full day for you,” Lowell said with a dryness John was starting to realize was humor.

John pointed at him, grinning. “And we’re just getting started.

“So, okay, we can’t plot and plan for this little meeting. Tell me something else. Tell me if there’s anything I absolutely should not do. Because you may not have noticed, but things tend to just sort of fly from my brain out of my mouth.”

Lowell swallowed a mouthful of black coffee and then said, “Be selective of how much you let on you know. It’s important to know when to withhold information and when not to. The same goes for any suspicions you might have. Know when to say something to them; know when not to.”

“Like writing a mystery.” John gestured with his spoon. “I always think that mystery and horror are the art of knowing what not to say, fantasy is the art of knowing how to say everything without sounding like an infomercial, and romance is the art of putting it all on the line.”

Lowell stared at John a moment. Not in a bad way, precisely, more what John would’ve called inscrutable. “Something like that,” Lowell said finally. “So maybe you know more about not letting things fly from your brain to your mouth than you think.”

John nodded. “I’ll put on my Man of Mystery persona. Never really had to do it in person before, but writing’s a lot like acting.” Much more exhausting in real life than on the page, probably because John had never been a very good liar on the few occasions he’d tried. Rather, the few occasions his mother had put him up to it, because he’d much rather expend his efforts elsewhere, given the option. But this, this was for the author in him. He could do it and get inside his hero’s head in the process.

Method writing. Excellent.

But now Lowell was arching an eyebrow at him, so John decided to move on with, “Right. So that covered, I was thinking the other day, and there’s one potential flaw in this case.”

“Just one?”

John pursed his lips. “Yes. One. I’m not entirely sure why Jones— What was his name again, really?”


“Right, him. Well, I’m not sure why he’d pay us to find his missing neighbor. Which leads me to wonder if we’re getting paid at all.”

Lowell folded his arms across his chest. “Why would you wonder that?”

“Well.” Not much liking the physical barriers going up—a sure sign Lowell was trying to get out of talking—John leaned forward. “Going through your files, I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t always get paid. Or if you do, you’re getting it under the table. Which is totally not your style.” Not that John was against tax dodging, obviously, but Lowell didn’t seem the type.

Sitting back, Lowell replied, “I don’t do it for me. Some people who come to me need help but can’t afford it.” A single shoulder lifted in a shrug. “So I do it pro bono or at half the cost.”

John settled his elbows on the table, attention rapt. “It’s not that I didn’t expect that answer, truth be told, but hearing you say it is somehow…” It was rare that John was at a loss for words, but this one was giving him trouble.

It was exciting, but that word seemed wrong somehow. He’d been excited about stories or characters before. And that’s what Lowell was—the perfect hero. The more John squeezed out of him, the more it became obvious. Grouchy on the surface, sharp-witted, clever, and careful at his job, and now more concerned about helping people than he was about paying the rent on his crappy office. Throw in the dark good looks against the bright grayish-blue eyes, and Lowell Kanaan was his biggest find in, well, forever.

Maybe that was it, then. Maybe that was why the excited sensation of fluttering had turned up in his stomach this time, as opposed to just his hands tingling to write and his brain revving hard, as usual.

Lowell’s brow knit. “Somehow…?” he offered, sounding like he wasn’t sure where John was going with this.

Which was fine, really, since John wasn’t either. He squeezed his shoulders forward in a kind of happy shrug. “Exciting. Exciting enough that the author can’t come up with a better word.”

Lowell looked away, then picked up his coffee and took a swig. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

John grinned. He had Lowell’s pattern now, though: say something sort of nice, but make sure to downplay it; say something bordering on rude when that was disallowed. All that remained was for Lowell to change the subject entirely. The man was absurdly charming, wasn’t he? If nothing else, this method of his explained how he’d managed to keep his life such a solitary one in spite of said charm. “Your clients have. I found a few records of payment plans too—”

“You know, if you want the people we question to take you serious as a PI, you probably don’t want to be flashing that around,” Lowell said, indicating the bright yellow Private Investigation for Dummies sticking out of his bag.

John cackled. “There it is!” Which probably didn’t make much sense to Lowell, who had no way of knowing John had predicted this tactic only seconds ago. John saw no reason to let him in on the joke; he’d got what he needed and was still remarkably excited, even for him, in the best possible way. “I’ll keep it in the car, then.”

The server reappeared with a magical pop and set their plates down in front of them. Lowell pulled his plate closer to himself, said, “That’d be a smart idea,” and tucked in.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

The Chosen Ones by Stormy Glenn

The Chosen Ones


Myth & Legend 1

AVAILABLE: Thursday, October 8th
[Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Ménage Romance, M/M/M/M/M/M, HEA]
Spencer Dawson is an artist. He's flighty, absentminded, and often lost in the clouds. He's also an incubus and in his world, that means he gets five mates to start his coven. Having found his first four consorts, Spencer's life gets turned upside down when he feels a bond to the one man who has the potential to destroy him.
Marcus Foster is the alpha of one of the largest wolf packs in the state. He's used to making the rules, having people jump to do his bidding, and having every order followed. He does not share. He especially doesn't plan on sharing Spencer once he discovers that the gorgeous little artist is his mate.
Convincing Spencer that he was fed a pack of lies by four humans bent on keeping him as a sex slave seems a lot less important when Spencer's life is in danger. Convincing Marcus that everything he thought he knew was a pack of lies becomes a whole lot easier when Spencer transforms into a creature straight out of myth and legend. Convincing those around them to accept their unconventional mating might cost them their lives.

Convincing Marcus Foster, one of the richest and most powerful alphas in the state to give up his entire life for one gorgeous little man wasn’t going to be easy. Especially since Spencer was so odd to the outside world.
He fainted at the sight of blood. If he wasn’t covered in paint or clay, he felt out of place. He forgot to eat if he wasn’t fed. Hell, reminding him to wear clothes was a constant battle. And he went days without sleeping when his muse struck him. And god forbid he didn’t get a cup of coffee in the morning. It was a nightmare of epic proportions.
Having a keeper was something Spencer needed just to function.
He was also the most loving, tender man Garret had ever encountered. Not once since the day they met had Spencer failed show his love and caring for Garret or any of the others. They all knew that they shared a part of Spencer’s heart, and they gladly shared just so that they could have a piece of the man.
Sharing Spencer was better than no Spencer at all.
Garret hurried to the window when he saw headlights pull into the drive. His heart sank when he saw a light browned haired man in hospital scrubs climb out of a red Jeep and hurry toward the house. He was waiting when the front door slammed open.
“Is he here yet?”
Garret shook his head and walked over to kiss the man. “No, bébé, not yet, but he should be here in a few minutes.”
Joe’s eyes quickly scanned the living room. “Where’s Philip?”
“He’s finishing things up at the gallery. He’ll be home soon.”
Joe rubbed his hand over his face. “God, I hate this shit. Philip should be here not at some stupid art gallery. Spencer is going to blow a gasket if Philip doesn’t get here in time.”
Joe was right. Spencer had a special soft spot for Philip. They all did. Philip didn’t have the dominating personality of Garret, Hayden, or even Joe. He was a neat freak, a tad OCD, and brainer than all of them put together.
And Spencer adored him.
Garret wrapped his arms around Joe, cupping his hand to the back of the man’s neck as he rested their foreheads together. “He’ll be here.”
“How do you do this, Garret?” Joe’s hazel eyes bored into Garret. “I’ve only been through Philip. You’ve been through all of us. How do you stand it?”
Garret smiled ruefully. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t hurt each time Spencer found another to love. “Do you remember how he was after he found Philip and brought him home, after Philip accepted him? How happy he was?”
Spencer had glowed for weeks.
Joe swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“That’s how I stand it.”Garret reached up and stroked his finger along the light stubble marring Joe’s face. “I may have been the first but that means I got see him each time he found one of you. I got to watch him love you, watch the light shine in him each time one of you loved him back. That’s what makes all of this worth it.”
Joe inhaled deeply then slowly let the breath out of his lungs. He chuckled softly when he was done. “I must seem like I’m a mess.”
Garret chuckled. “I imagine you are a mess. Philip joined the family only three months ago. We’re still getting used to having him here. Now, there’s someone else to worry about. And he’s a doozy.”
Joe frowned, leaning back. “Who?”
“Marcus Foster.”
Joe’s face instantly paled. “No!”
Garret nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so.”
“He’ll destroy Spencer.”
“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.”
“How?” Joe stepped back even further. His fists clenched and his face darkened as anger filled his features. “Marcus Foster doesn’t care about anyone or anything. He’s a fucking monster.”
Garret felt his stomach clench with worry and strain. He wrapped his arms around his waist and shrugged, trying to make light of the situation or at least like he wasn’t that concerned when he was terrified.
“The best that we can, I suppose.”
“That’s not good enough, Garret. I can’t lose Spencer.” Joe’s lips pressed into a thin line his anguish darkening his hazel eyes. “None of us can.”
“We won’t, not even if we have to tie Marcus Foster down to Spencer’s bed until he submits.” Garret could feel himself growing angry. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew in several deep breathes. He had to maintain control. Joe needed that from him right now, needed him to be strong. “We’ll find a way. Besides, do you know anyone that can resist Spencer for more than two minutes?”


Philip stood there with his mouth hanging open, wondering what it would feel like to be taken like he was the last man on earth and someone had a serious case of blue balls. Spencer was fucking Hayden as though he needed to be balls deep in the man’s ass just to breath.
And that might not be too far from the truth. When Spencer went into heat every full moon, he needed sexual energy to sustain him, like a vampire needed blood. Without it, he would die and Philip would willingly give up his ass to prevent that from happening.
Philip was a little amazed at the force behind Spencer’s thrusts. He was plowing onto Hayden’s ass at an alarming rate, which was odd in itself. Normally, Spencer was a bottom, preferring to be taken rather than to take. And god, he was glorious as a bottom, his moans of pleasure leaving no doubt that he enjoyed being with each and every one of them.
Philip had fantasized his entire life of having someone like Spencer to love. He was kind and considerate of others, even strangers. Giving and caring of those he loved. He was so damn beautiful he made Philip’s teeth ache.
And the man had no gag reflex.
But this...Philip had been on the receiving end of Spencer’s heat a couple of times but even then, the man had been loving and caring, treating Philip like a treasured gem. The massive man driving his cock repeatedly into Hayden’s ass was clouded with lust.
“Makes you wish you were the one on your hands and knees, doesn’t it?”
Philip glanced over to Garret as the man walked over to stand next to him. His face became warm and he glanced away, his eyes going back to the two men on the bed. “Yes.” He could freely admit that even if it embarrassed him a bit. “It’s like he can’t get enough.”
“He can’t,” Garret said, “not when he’s like this.”
“Does he always the top when he’s like this?” Philip was mesmerized by the flexing muscles in Spencer’s ass as the man pounded into Hayden. “Have you ever taken him in this form?”
“No.” When Philip looked at Garret again, the man was staring at Spencer.
Philip could see a glint of interest in his eyes. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“I am now.” Garret’s deep blue eyes rounded. “Could you imagine having all that power beneath you?”
“I’d rather find out what it feels like than continue to imagine it.” With more bravery than he thought he’d ever have, Philip grabbed the bottle of lube he had dropped earlier and headed for the large bed in the middle of the room.
Philip wasn’t exactly sure what had come over him. He wasn’t usually a take charge type of guy. But the thought of sinking his cock into Spencer’s tight ass when he was in this larger more aggressive form just about blew his mind.
Philip quickly stripped his clothes off, tossing them down on the floor. For once, he didn’t care where they landed. He was too intent on getting to his prize. He climbed onto the mattress and scooted up behind Spencer. He popped the cap on the lube and poured some out onto his fingers. When he slid his slick fingers between Spencer’s ass cheeks, the man growled, his head snapping around.
Philip stilled. Spencer’s usual sparkling green eyes were like dark shards of emerald colored glass. The stare was intense, making the hairs on the back of Philip’s neck stand on end. When Spencer’s eyes dropped to the bottle of lube in his hand, Philip swallowed the sudden fear that filled him, positive he was about to have his head handed to him.
Shock rendered him speechless when Spencer simply turned back around and spread his legs and then went back to fucking Hayden. Taking it as a sign—or an invitation—Philip slid his fingers back between Spencer’s butt cheeks and stroked the man’s tight hole.