Honey Bunny Promos

Fire Balls by Tara Lain

2012-01-31T07:52:00.000-08:00

Rodney Mansfield is tiny, flamboyant and, oh yeah, a black belt in karate. He is also one of southern California’s greatest artists. Too bad the work of art he really wants is firefighter, Hunter Fallon. But the gorgeous “straight gay” guy could never want the Runtback of Notre Dame, so when Rodney’s handsome, surfer friend, Jerry, develops an unexpected passion for the beautiful firefighter, Rodney breaks his own heart by helping Jerry land his man. And then Rod makes it worse by embarrassing Hunter when he protects him from a firehouse bully. Hunter hates gay guys like Rodney – doesn’t he? Then why can’t he get the powerful pipsqueak’s face out of his mind… and his heart? And why does he risk his job and his life to rescue Rod from a burning building? Isn’t it time for him to admit he’s not an alpha male after all and that he is the property of the artist?

Available at Etopia Press Amazon

Rodney glanced over to see how his model was doing. Total heart stop and brain malfunction. Perfect. Every line and curve. Every angle. Hunter’s body was so lean that each muscle stood out against his tan skin like a piece of sculpture. The pose twisted his torso just enough to make his narrow waist seem even slimmer against the breadth of his shoulders and his hard, curved pecs. His legs were long and looked carved from marble. Even his feet were perfect. Oh God. Rod wanted to suck each toe in homage.

And in the middle of all this art, surrounded by light tan skin and at the end of a happy trail of silken dark hair, was a magnificent cock lying relaxed against Hunter’s right leg. He was a low hanger, a real shower. Long and graceful, framed by loose balls and a soft pubic nest, this was a penis of the gods. Rodney wanted to paint it all alone in every possible posture. Yeah, preferably erect. Shit, he had to quit staring, or at least pretend the staring was professional and not prurient. Sure, right.

Hunter’s cock might be relaxed but the rest of his body was vibrating with tension. Rodney tried not to think how much he would like that to be reversed. Had to put the guy at ease before he had a coronary.

He grabbed his camera from the worktable and started snapping. “Looks great, Hunter. Perfect. Just relax as much as you can while I snap some photos. I’ll use these to work on the painting when you’re not here. I can use the shots to get general massing and proportion but I like to have the model live to put in texture and shadow. Nothing beats life for that kind of detail.” He was babbling but he hoped it would help the guy relax.

The beautiful body seemed to melt into the daybed, his arm over his eyes relaxed, and his fingers opened. Rod drew closer to capture a close-up of that graceful, powerful hand, then hurried back to the table and grabbed the sketch pad, leaving the camera behind. God, those long fingers. He stared at the calluses that seemed in conflict with the dance-like beauty of the relaxed hand. Scribbling, he committed the pose to paper before shifting his attention. A fast interpretation of Hunter’s carved mouth, the top lip intriguingly fuller than the bottom, giving the architectural symmetry of his face an unexpected pout. A quick swirl to capture his cleft chin, then a loving sketch of the gorgeous collarbone that defined the hard, muscular shoulder.

Down and down. Rodney hummed. Hunter seemed unconcerned, his breath having slowed. Maybe he needed a good nap. Man, look at those abs. That was a twelve-pack, baby. Down the happy trail and…he stopped sketching in awe. What a cock. Had to capture it. His fingers flew over the paper as he quietly chuckled. Yeah, he’d like to capture it. In his hands or mouth. He did study after study glancing up to be sure Hunter wasn’t watching Rod fixate on that dick.

OK, enough. “Hunter, move if you need to,” Rod murmured.

“Huh?” The arm came off his eyes, and he raised his head. “Oh man, I think I was nearly asleep.”

“Sorry to wake you. Go ahead and sleep and I’ll just draw.”

He sat up. “No. I better stretch or I’ll get really stiff. Sorry. I just got off a double shift. Didn’t realize I was so tired.”

Rod pointed to a clothes tree beside the platform. “Need a bathrobe?”

Hunter gave a shy grin. A-fucking-dorable. “Nah, I guess not. We’re both guys.”

Rodney struck a pose with hand on hip. “But since we’re both gay guys the implications are slightly different, wouldn’t you say?”

Hunter shook his head. “No fishing in another guy’s pond.”

Rod’s heart tripped. “You mean you and Jerry?”

“No, I mean Bill. He seems like a great guy.”

Rod smiled. “He is, but we’re just friends.”

Hunter sat on the edge of the daybed, that gorgeous cock hanging down between his legs. Distracting much? Rod busied himself blocking out the figure on the huge canvas.

“I thought you two were on a date.”

“Yeah. Our first and last. Dutch from now on. We realized we make better pals than lovers.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Rod looked up. “Nothing to be sorry about. Not everyone fits.”

“But wouldn’t you have liked it to work?”

He stopped drawing. Would he? “I kind of have a thing for someone else. Unrequited. But it makes getting into a relationship harder.” He spoke the truth.

“You need to find someone who appreciates you. A talent like you doesn’t come along every day.”

“Yeah, well, maybe.” A small crack opened in his heart.

“Shall I lie back down?”

“Need the bathroom or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” Hunter lay down.

Rod looked away. Shit. He would not cry. Deep breath. He returned to the canvas and tried for a rakish smile. “Besides, I imagine Bill’s a top. We would have killed each other. He’d push me down and I’d fight and grab him. It would have been ugly. Blood all over, both of us trying to dominate.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Rod glanced up. Hunter lay in the prescribed position, arm over eyes. But his formerly relaxed cock had risen to half-mast. What had gotten him going? Bill? Being a top? Killing each other. Hmm.

Let’s find out. “I’d try to stick my cock in his ass, and he’d be trying to grab me and hold me down. What a battle.”

Sure enough, the slow rise continued. Rod edged closer. Crap, the fireman wasn’t just a shower. Look at that gorgeous thing. Closer. What would happen if he touched? He wanted to touch so badly. His hand rose as he took another step.

E-mail: tara@taralain.com

Website: http://www.taralain.com

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Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall

2012-01-31T07:38:00.000-08:00

BLURB: The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike.

It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball.

What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again?

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/behind-the-mask-ebook-p-729

EXCERPT:

/Valentine's Day 2011/

_ _

Gabe stared out of the window as the taxi turned off the country lane they had been travelling down and onto the beginning of the gravel drive that led up to Downe Hall. The music could already be heard through the open windows of the large country house and laughter spilled out with it. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this… albeit under duress.

The house looked as magnificent as it had on his first visit there four years ago, when he'd been talked into attending the event of the season. The Thomas Downe Annual Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball was legendary and people came from miles around to lose themselves in the splendour of it all; the music, the costumes, the chance to be someone else, for just one night.

The grass verge on either side of the drive up to the gates was decorated with life size sculptures of naked men and women, covered with strategically placed white fairy lights, heralding the way to the house.

"That'll be eighteen fifty."

Gabe looked at the taxi driver and blinked owlishly. "Huh?"

"The fare," the man repeated, nodding at the meter. "Eighteen pounds, fifty."

"Oh, right," Gabe replied scrabbling in the pocket of his costume for a twenty pound note. He handed it to the other man mumbling, "Keep the change."

"Thanks, mate. Nice costume by the way. You meeting someone in there?" The driver's question was innocent enough and Gabe knew that he couldn't know how those words made his gut tighten and his heart ache.

"Not this year," he replied and opened the door before the man could remark further. Gabe stood looking at the bridge over the moat to the large open gates. He'd spent a fortune on his costume and the ticket itself would have kept his fridge stocked for six months, even though he hadn't paid for it, so standing on the drive and watching other party-goers just sail past him was kind of stupid. And then there was the added concern that if he stood there much longer, the organisers might drape /him/ in fairy lights.

Besides, this was where it had all begun, it seemed only fitting that this is where it should end; where he should bury the past and move towards the future. He huffed a joyless laugh through parted lips. The future—/what/ future? Mike seemed to think he was ready to embrace a life without him… but Gabe wasn't so sure.

It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.

Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the /event/ of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side—before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.

Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.

Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger[CO1] <#_msocom_1> on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.

Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him.

www.lworrall.blogspot.com

Packing Heat by Kele Moon

2012-01-31T06:17:00.000-08:00

Blurb:

Firefighter Brad Archer secretly longs for his straight roommate, Police Officer Gavin Connolly. He usually holds the handsome cop at arms' length but a shooting at work leads to a wild night that changes everything.

http://www.loose-id.com/Packing-Heat.aspx

Dark and brooding firefighter Brad Archer has spent months denying his attraction to his roommate, police officer Gavin Connolly. Gavin is just the kind of guy he likes: tall, tough, and buff enough to actually handle Brad’s big size and rough nature.

To hide his real feelings Brad holds the handsome, seemingly straight cop at arms' length until a shooting at work leaves Gavin a little too vulnerable to ignore. What starts out as a simple attempt to comfort his roommate blows up into something wild, sexual, and wholly unexpected when Gavin wants more from Brad than a strong firefighter’s shoulder to lean on.

The sexual magnetism drawing the two of them together forces secrets to be revealed, and though the sex is mind-blowing it may not be worth weathering the storms their relationship could stir up. In order to protect him, Brad realizes he loves Gavin enough to let him go. The problem is—the stubborn cop may not let him.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: bondage, male/male sexual practices.

Excerpt

“I’m a big advocate for gay rights. I’d vote for gay marriage if it ever came up on the ballot.”

Brad took a long drink of his beer. “Don’t hold your breath on that one.”

“The point is”—Gavin turned around from his spot on the floor where he sat with his back against the couch. The television cast flickers of color over his handsome face as he stared up at Brad.—“I’m secure in my sexuality. I don’t care that you’re gay.”

“Thanks, Gav,” Brad said, the bite in his voice harsh even to his ears. “Right backatcha. Most gay guys avoid drunk, straight assholes who think they deserve some sorta stud medal for letting us be in their presence, but don’t worry, I’m secure enough to deal with the bullshit.”

Gavin blinked, the drunken flush to his tan cheeks growing more pronounced. “I said something wrong, didn’t I?”

Gavin’s light eyes were glazed. His black hair stuck up at odd angles. It was obvious even the hardy Irish blood that ran in Gavin Connolly’s veins couldn’t hold up to the binge he’d been on for the past eight hours.

“Don’t worry about it.” Brad took another sip of his beer, feeling like he needed it. “You’re drunk. I get it.”

“But I don’t wanna piss you off. I care about ya. You’re like a—” Gavin paused, turning to look blankly at the television as if searching for the right word. “Well, you’re not really a buddy. I mean, you are a buddy, but you’re more than a buddy to me. Much more. I don’t care if the boys at the station make fun of me. I’m glad we’re roommates.”

“Wow.” Brad widened his eyes at that disaster of an explanation. “You’re a really bad drunk.”

“I don’t drink that much.” Gavin took another swig of his beer and then mumbled against the rim, “Damn kid, why’d he have to pull a gun? So fucking stupid.”

“You didn’t kill him.” Brad sighed, knowing Gavin had a very good reason for the uncharacteristic pity party. “He’ll be all right.”

“Luck.” Gavin snorted. “It’s a fucking miracle that bullet missed his heart.”

“Maybe we oughta go back to talking about how awesome you are for having a gay roommate,” Brad offered with a wince.

“Do you know how much bureaucratic bullshit I’ve gone through in the past three days? All ’cause that damn kid pulled a gun. My name’s all over the news.”

“You’re a hero, man. Who knows what that asshole would’ve done if you hadn’t taken him down.”

“That’s just it.” Gavin turned back to Brad, a look of misery shining in his light eyes. “I don’t feel like a hero. I feel like a guy who shot a nineteen-year-old kid for making a bad decision.”

Forgetting about the distance he usually forced between them, Brad got up and kicked aside some of the beer bottles to sit next to Gavin on the floor. He wasn’t really sure why he did it. Maybe it was Gavin looking more like a kicked puppy than the cool, easygoing roommate he’d gotten used to over the past several months.

“You’re a good cop,” Brad said softly, leaning back against the couch. “And more importantly, you’re a good guy. It was a justified shooting. The shoot team’s gonna clear you to go back to work in a few more days. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“Thanks.” Gavin gave him a dazzling smile, as if forgetting his bout of melancholy. “You’re a real buddy. The best one I got. Talking you into renting me this room was the best thing I ever did. And you thought it wouldn’t work out.”

Brad remembered with stunning clarity the reason why he kept his distance from Gavin. He was too fucking handsome. The contrast between his black hair and light eyes was startling. His face was both beautiful and masculine with his hard jaw and full lips. And his body… Jesus. Brad turned back to the television, the chant of it’d be a mistake echoing in his mind.

Brad’s taste in men was dangerous. He was naturally drawn to broad shoulders, powerful muscles, rock-solid abs—the harder and more masculine the better. He didn’t have a problem with softer gay men. Pretty bottoms with floppy hair and slim bodies were fine. He just didn’t want to fuck them.

It was highly inconvenient that Brad’s line of work left him drowning in testosterone. If it wasn’t the other firefighters and paramedics he worked with, it was cops like Gavin. But Brad was thirty-eight; he had learned to separate his private and professional lives. The straight ones he kept his distance from, the gay ones—well, he could tell Gavin a few things about some of those guys he worked with. They were probably the same assholes laughing at him for having a gay roommate. Closeted gay men were the worst.

“I’m not really secure in my sexuality,” Gavin whispered over the hum of the television. “That was bullshit.”

Brad looked toward the ceiling, praying for patience. The only thing worse than a closeted gay man was one who had his head so far up his ass he didn’t realize he had the inclination.

Gavin, for example.

Straight cops didn’t beg and plead to rent a room from a gay firefighter unless they were looking for something. Not to mention Gavin was drop-dead gorgeous. He could get any woman he wanted, but the asshole didn’t date.

If Brad were younger and dumber, he would have rejoiced in helping Gavin solve his dating problems, but Brad wasn’t young and dumb. He was middle-aged and cynical. He didn’t need beautiful and buff Gavin with his pretty eyes and strong jaw. He wanted the hell out of him, so much so he hadn’t gotten laid in months because he’d rather play domestic with the most clueless cop in Tampa Bay, but he didn’t need him.

“Time to go to bed.” Brad reached over to pull the beer out of Gavin’s hand. “You’ve officially had one too many. I’m ending this pity party.”

“Do you think I’m handsome?” Gavin asked, eyes wide and glazed with liquid courage.

Fuck, yes.

“I think you’re unavailable,” Brad said evenly instead of voice his thoughts out loud. “Trust me, Gavin, you want to go to bed now.”

“I don’t see you looking at me,” Gavin mumbled rather than take Brad’s advice. He appeared genuinely disappointed with the lack of attention. “Maybe only women think I’m hot.”

Brad rolled his eyes at Gavin’s vanity that was oddly charming. Arrogant but unassuming—not many could make that work.

“It’s not only women,” Brad found himself admitting. “You’re hot; anyone would think so.”

“Would you think so?”

Brad took a long drink of the beer he’d stolen from Gavin and resumed his staring contest with the television. His cock flared to life, demanding he answer in the affirmative. His mind reminded him of the disaster it would create in the morning when the booze wore off. He was a little too old to do awkward to that extreme.

“Brad?”

He made the mistake of looking at Gavin when he heard the pleading desperation. Gavin’s eyes swirled with haunted uncertainty, as if Brad could somehow solve his life problems. That was a very dangerous look. It made Gavin seem younger than thirty-four, more innocent, and wholly tempting in a way that sucker punched Brad with yearning. He swallowed hard past the rush of desire.

“Yeah,” he whispered, knowing it was a mistake even as he said it. “I think you’re handsome. Happy?”

He closed his eyes and prayed for strength when his defenses were at an all-time low. He was so focused on finding an inner source of defense, Brad ended up blindsided when a hard male body suddenly pressed against him. A rough hand ran over his jaw. Warm breath brushed against his lips.

Holy shit! Gavin was kissing him. The logical thing to do was push the drunken fool away, but Brad wasn’t feeling logical. There was a crackle between them. The electric current of attraction was so overwhelming, Brad knew Gavin wasn’t the only one in denial. He had wanted this man for a long time now, and no amount of past baggage was going to let Brad deny it when Gavin was making himself this available.

He kissed him back. The excitement was palatable, reminding him of stolen, forbidden kisses between football players behind the bleachers. They were both frantic, needing to touch and feel everything at once. It was wild. It was sloppy. It felt unbelievably right when he knew it shouldn’t.

Gavin had him feeling seventeen again.

Brad seized the moment like a drowning man. He tangled his fingers in Gavin’s dark hair, wanting him closer. When Gavin straddled Brad’s hips, settling on his lap like he belonged there, Brad thought it was a minor miracle he didn’t come in his jeans.

He gripped Gavin’s tight ass, moaning against his lips when he felt hard muscle through faded jeans. He arched his hips up, making his lap more user-friendly as Gavin rutted against him. Gavin’s tongue thrust into his mouth to the intoxicating rhythm Gavin used to dry fuck Brad and the raw desperation that was addicting.

It wasn’t until the need for air busted through the haze that Brad broke the kiss. He tossed his head back against the couch while Gavin moved over him with an uncontrolled need, as if so starved for sexual attention he couldn’t even be bothered to remove clothes before searching for release. Brad’s body actually vibrated with how badly he wanted this, and he tightened his hand in Gavin’s hair, needing the lifeline.

“Get off on me,” he growled, more a demand than a request. “Fuck my lap until you come.”

“Yeah?” Gavin panted against the curve of his neck. He nipped lightly, his breath warm and soothing before his tongue laved over the wound. “Christ, I need this. I’ve had a bad week.”

“I know, baby.” Brad cupped his ass tighter, helping the grind. “You need it, take it.”

Gavin rode him with intent. His kisses were bruising, wild, and wholly male in a way Brad loved. He gave as good as he got. Brad slipped his hand past the gap in Gavin’s jeans, working beneath cotton underwear to grip the smooth skin of his ass. He wanted to feel his hole, to finger it and really get him off, but Brad knew he was dealing with his deeply in denial roommate. With every raspy breath, a part of him was waiting for Gavin to freeze in his arms and realize he was dry humping a man.

Gavin gasped as if catching Brad’s thoughts, the frustration heavy in his voice as he begged. “Please.”

Fuck it. Brad released Gavin’s ass, then sucked on two fingers, doing it slowly, being deliberate and seductive. Gavin eyed Brad’s mouth as his light eyes became glazed with longing. His breathing fell shallow like that of a starved animal while he watched Brad prepare his fingers to fuck his ass.

Brad released his fingers with a pop and demanded, “Take your dick out. I wanna see it.”

Gavin leaned back against Brad’s thighs. His hands shook as he worked on unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. He pulled down white cotton briefs, letting his cock fall hard and heavy into his hand.

God, it was a nice cock—long, thick, and cut—with the head flaring red when Gavin fisted it. Brad sucked on his fingers once more. He entertained the idea of shoving Gavin off him and swallowing that cock, taking it deep and sloppy in a way he was certain a woman never could. If Gavin wanted to play gay man, Brad might as well give him the five-star tour.

Gavin shuddered while Brad had a moment with his fingers. “Please,” he repeated, his desperation obvious. “You’re teasing.”

The harsh need was palpable with every raspy breath Gavin took.

Brad reached around Gavin to grab the back of his shirt and tug it up. With Gavin’s help they got his shirt off, giving Brad a view of hard muscles before Gavin fell over him and buried his face in the curve of Brad’s neck.

“Give it to me, baby.” Brad fisted Gavin’s hair once more. If he wanted it, he was going to have to work for it. “Show me what you want.”

Gavin shuddered so violently from Brad’s harsh demand, he was worried he accidently forced him over the edge. But then Gavin was shifting, his thighs sliding against the tile, pushing his bare cock tighter against Brad’s stomach.

With Gavin practically vibrating in his arms, Brad slid his hand beneath the gap in his jeans, finding his hole with spit-slicked fingers. He circled it a few times, enjoying the way Gavin shifted impatiently, trying to impale himself on Brad’s fingers.

“Shhh,” he said, still getting acquainted with Gavin’s ass. “Put your hands on my shoulders. We’re going slow.”

“Shit.” Gavin’s grip on Brad’s shoulders was tight and bruising as he moved back against Brad’s fingers once more. “Don’t go slow. I want it hard. Fast. Cruel. Make me stop thinking.”

Brad let those words burn through him as his hold tightened in Gavin’s hair. He jerked his head back to watch Gavin’s face as he gave him what he wanted. He thrust into his ass hard and mean. When Gavin gasped from the invasion, Brad curved his fingers up and rubbed against his prostate before he had time to adjust.

“Fuck!” Gavin’s eyes flew open, stunned pleasure flashing electric blue.

Brad’s grip on Gavin’s hair was unforgiving as he kept his head back, forcing him to put the deviant indulgence on display. With only spit for lube, the rub of his fingers in Gavin’s hot, incredibly tight ass was rough and gritty in a way that hit every kink button Brad had. He was in very real danger of coming in his jeans, but he didn’t give a fuck, because Gavin looked amazing thrusting back against his hand, furiously searching for relief.

Brad enjoyed the show, knowing it was going to be material for a thousand jerk-off sessions. Sexy and wanton, Gavin was still grinding against Brad’s jean-covered cock, desperate to come while Brad fingered his ass. He went back and forth between rubbing his prostate and stretching Gavin’s hole, assuming he liked the burn. He obviously did, because he released Brad’s shoulders to fist his cock.

“Oh no.” Brad narrowed his eyes as he stopped the torment of Gavin’s ass. “You want it from a man? You’re gonna get it the way I like it. Let go of your dick or go find yourself a girlfriend.”

Gavin shuddered and placed both hands back on Brad’s shoulders without argument. It was obvious he liked being told what to do.

Brad’s cock jerked inside his jeans, but he liked the bite of pain. It helped him keep control when everything in him wanted to bend Gavin over this couch and fuck him with something crueler than his fingers.

“Good boy.” Brad rewarded his obedience with another nudge against his prostate.

Gavin jerked in his arms, crying out from the shock of pleasure.

“Christ, Brad, please.” Gavin’s entire body was shaking with the strain for climax. He tried to move back against Brad’s hand, but Brad had him nestled tightly in his lap, taking his control. With Gavin’s head wrenched back, the pleasure and need etched itself over his handsome features as he pleaded, “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

“I don’t think so,” Brad said, stretching him even as he denied both of them, because he wasn’t going to fuck a man in denial when he was drunk. At least the rejection gave him a power buzz. “I will, however, enjoy watching you get off on my fingers. I’m gonna watch you as you come, Gav, and you’re gonna enjoy letting me.”

The defeat in Gavin was profound and fucking sexy as hell. Brad saw stars from the lust rush when Gavin became languid over him. Only taking what he was given, the tension was replaced with something much more erotic—total submission as he surrendered himself to Brad and the pleasure he was giving him.

More turned on than he’d been in his entire life, Brad finger fucked his ass with enthusiasm. He was eager to see Gavin come apart in his arms, and he wasn’t disappointed as the powerful cop quickly ended up panting and frantic for a release from the onslaught. His breathing grew more and more ragged as he got closer to completion. No longer fighting for it now that he’d given Brad control, Gavin jerked with the stroke that pushed him over the edge. His body curved into the wrench on his hair and the grasp on his ass. His cry of pleasure was savage and unrestrained.

Brad clenched his teeth and fought against closing his eyes at the feeling of Gavin’s ass clenching around his fingers. He watched Gavin’s face instead, the sheer decadence of tasting the forbidden mapping its way over his beautiful features. He was completely enthralled by the image, and it left more than his cock aching. His chest swelled with an emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time as he admired the physical evidence of pleasure he was able to give Gavin.

Jesus, he could fall in love with this asshole.

http://kelemoon.com

The Layered Mask by Sue Brown

2012-01-30T15:50:00.000-08:00

Coming Feb. 4, 2012

Blurb: Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London for one season to find a wife. While there, Nash discovers he is the lamb, the sacrifice of the society matrons, to be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.

During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Thomas calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash had hidden for years and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.

What will happen when the time comes for Edwin to return home with a suitable bride?

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/the-layered-mask-ebook-p-730

Excerpt: Downe held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked huskily, holding out his hand.

Eyes widening in shock, Nash swallowed audibly. He hesitated and then placed his hand in Downe's, allowing the older man to draw him to his feet. Downe gathered him into a dancing position, hoping that Nash would not pull away once he realised he was in the lady's role.

"You will have to guide me," Nash said, resting his left hand lightly on Downe's right arm, as he waited for Downe to take the first step. If this position did bother him, Nash didn't say so, as he smiled up at Downe.

Having Edwin Nash in his arms, warm and solid despite his slight form, left Downe breathless. Downe wondered if the young man was even aware of the effect he was having on him. Struggling against the urge to pull Nash hard against him, Downe hummed the music to a slow waltz.

They started dancing, Nash only taking a short while to grasp the simple steps, and suddenly Downe could see why the waltz was thought of as scandalous. They weren't touching except for their hands, but it was so intimate, a few inches between them instead of the width of a line. For once, Downe thought the moral brigade may have had the right idea. Being able to hold your partner so close was… he struggled to find the right word… sensuous. He was aware of every part of Nash’s lithe body, from the curls of his dark hair around his temple to his shapely legs almost, but not quite, pressed up against his.

Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

You can find me on my blog: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.com/

The Slave's Mask by Patricia Logan

2012-01-30T15:14:00.000-08:00

Coming Feb. 4, 2012

BLURB:

American blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running guns and other contraband between England and the Confederate States in 1863. He craves a young submissive man. Francois, a young prostitute, might be just the man to satisfy all of Anthony’s taboo desires.

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/the-slave-s-mask-ebook-p-731

Excerpt

Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.

Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?

naughtypassions.blogspot.com

What once was Lost by Stormy Glenn & Lynn Hagen

2012-01-30T03:50:00.000-08:00

WHAT ONCE WAS LOST

Lady Blue Crew 7 by Stormy Glenn & Lynn Hagen

Available now! http://www.bookstrand.com/what-once-was-lost

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Futuristic Sci-Fi Romance, M/M, shape-shifters]

Mo doesn't know what to do with Mykel. He's new to the future he's living in and doesn't understand half of what people tell him, let alone show him. When Mykel insists that they are mates, Mo's set to run in the other direction.

Mykel knows Mo is his mate the second he lays eyes on the sexy human. He packs up everything he owns and leaves his family to join his mate on board the Lady Blue. Life would be perfect if only his mate would accept him.

Trouble follows the crew of the Lady Blue crew with every turn, and Mo and Mykel are no exception. When plans backfire and go wrong, saving each other just might be easier than admitting that they belong together. But the past won't be forgotten, and when Mo goes on a wild mission doomed to failure, Mykel races to his rescue, refusing to give up on the one man that makes him feel whole. Now, it's just a matter of saving Mo from himself.

STORY EXCERPT

Mo sat on the bridge, trying to fit all the pieces together. He didn’t think the general was setting them up. In his line of work back on Earth, people sometimes put hidden meanings in their messages.

He had a feeling this was one of those times.

If the general was reluctant to meet with them, then just maybe he was trying to tell them something. Mo wasn’t a big believer in people doing the right thing. Most screwed you over in a heartbeat, but sometimes, every once in a while, a person grew a conscience.

General Merrick could be one of those people.

Mo rolled his eyes when the bridge door opened and Mykel walked onto the bridge. It wasn’t that he thought the little alien man wasn’t hot, because Mykel was drop-dead gorgeous, but mate? Mo didn’t know shit about mates, and the idea of having one nearly gave him hives.

Mo shivered at the concept of the word mate. There was no way he was being trapped into a forever relationship. Mykel may be hot, but in Mo’s opinion, the man was a galaxy away.

Mo frowned when Mykel set a small silver container down on the console in front of him. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the elaborately engraved canister.

Mykel’s jaw clenched for a moment as a shadow passed through his eyes before he spoke. His eyes darted around the room, not meetings Mo’s. “Hyberian Law of Mating, section thirty-four, states that it is unforgiveable for a mate to disgrace himself in front of his mate, claimed or unclaimed.”

Mo sat up straighter, his frown deepening when Mykel hiccuped a bit and his eyes watered. “Wha—”

“As I have brought shame to your house, you have the right to deny me and pursue another mate. I know my actions on Tronos have lessened me in your eyes, and I no longer deserve to belong to you. I beg your forgiveness, and I won’t stand in your way.”

Mykel bowed his head and left the bridge before Mo could utter a word, not that he knew what he would have said anyway. He was confused as hell. Had Mykel just let him off the hook? And why did that thought piss him off so much?

Mykel was supposed to be his mate.

Wasn’t he?

An overwhelming possessiveness encompassed Mo. He wasn’t sure where the hell it came from, but being dismissed didn’t sit well with him. He was the one who was supposed to say no thanks, not Mykel.

“Wow, did you just get your ass handed to you or what?” Tank snickered from the helm. “Sucks to be you.”

Mo stared down at the canister, wondering what the hell could be in it. He was scared shitless to open it. Could it be a bomb? He hadn’t a clue about any of this advanced stuff. He was from what everyone was referring to as Old Earth.

He wasn’t too sure about this advanced technology. Hell, he was having trouble working the food dispenser. Mo pushed the canister around with his finger, trying to see if he could hear any ticking noises.

“Go ahead and open it,” Tank said from across the bridge. “It may be a dandy little container to hold your balls in.” Tank barely got the last part out as he laughed hysterically. Mo glared at him and then cracked the lid open.

Colt walked onto the bridge just then, his steps faltering as he stared at Mo. “Where’d you get that?” He pointed to the container in Mo’s hand.

Mo slammed the lid closed before he had a chance to see what was inside. It was nobody’s business but his own what Mykel had given him. “My mate, why?” he asked with a bit of a bite. Mo’s head snapped back at his response. His mate? What the fuck? Was he claiming Mykel now?

He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so protective of Mykel, but the feeling ate away at his gut. Fuck, he was losing his goddamn mind. Maybe this traveling into the future crap had eroded his brain cells.

He needed to go see the ship’s doctor and have his head examined.

Colt studied Mo for a moment. He looked as though he wanted to say something and then shook his head. “Never mind.”

Mo waited until all eyes were elsewhere before looking into the small silver container. His frown deepened when he saw a small stone nestled inside. It was blue and green, the colors twisting and turning around each other, flowing seamlessly together. Why would Mykel give him a rock?

“Are you curious to know what that is?” Colt asked as he took a seat at his station.

Mo was, but he didn’t want to admit that he had any interest in Mykel. Hell, he hadn’t been here that long, and to find out he was already mated and tied down? Mo wasn’t going for that. He’d already lost too much as it was.

He wouldn’t be able to bear another loss. He barely survived the first one.

“It’s his ador,” Colt offered.

Mo sat the container down as he turned to look over at Colt. “His what?”

“His ador.” Colt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Our people have the ability to transfer our passion, our zest for life, into ritual stones. Usually, it is a way of saving the memories of loved ones before they pass, but sometimes, mates will exchange them and draw the ador into themselves so that they can be closer to their mates.”

“How?”

Colt smiled and glanced down at his hands. “Again, that is a ritual of my people. Needless to say, Mykel has given you his ador.”

“So, what?” Mo glanced at the small ornate silver box in horror. “I’m supposed to draw his ador into me somehow?”

“No.”

Colt sounded so ominous that Mo couldn’t help but look up at him. “Then what am I supposed to do with it?"

“I suppose you can do whatever you want with it. Leave it on the next planet we land on or shoot it out an air lock. It doesn’t matter now.” Colt shrugged. “It’s yours now to do what you want with it.”

“Can I give it back?”

“No, it’s too late for that.” Colt grimaced and turned away. “Once the ador stone has been given, it cannot be given back. It belongs to you now.”

“But I don’t want it.”

ADULT EXCERPT

“Tell me what you want, Mykel,” Mo commanded deeply. “Tell me what you want me to do with this sexy little body of yours.”

Mykel closed his eyes, praying for the right words to say. He had already shamed himself once by breaking the law. He didn’t want to shame himself once again while Mo was in the midst of claiming him.

“I want you…” He curled his lips in as his cheeks flushed.

“Tell me, Mykel,” Mo warned.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Mo’s grin was wide, making his entire face light up. “And what else?” Mo asked as he climbed off of the bed and stripped out of his clothes.

Mykel’s heart raced as his body flushed when he saw just how well-endowed Mo truly was. His body was ripped with muscles, his cock thick and long. The head was an angry purple, leaking with clear liquid as Mo tossed aside his clothes.

“I can’t hear you.”

His face felt like he was too close to the sun, heated, burning, and fiery red. “Can I taste you?”

Mo groaned as he climbed back onto the bed and hooked his hand around Mykel’s neck, bringing his lips to the head of his cock. “Taste me, mate.”

He hadn’t a damn clue what he was doing, but Mykel was determined to show Mo that he was a worthy mate. Parting his lips, Mykel leaned forward, taking the crown of Mo’s cock into his mouth.

The taste exploded across his tongue, making Mykel moan as his tongue twisted and twirled, tasting his mate for the very first time. His tongue ran the course of Mo’s cock as his mate’s eyes stayed locked onto Mykel, watching every move he made.

As Mykel became bolder, he pushed more of Mo’s cock into his mouth, taking as much as he could as he allowed his tongue to do whatever it wanted to.

“So good, baby,” Mo moaned as he held the back of Mykel’s head. “So damn good.”

Encouraged, Mykel reached up and palmed Mo’s balls, massaging them in his hand as he sucked and laved his mate’s cock.

“Not yet.” Mo hissed as he pulled his cock from between Mykel’s lips. “I want to come in your ass. Do you want that, Mykel?”

He nodded rapidly as he sat there, waiting for his mate to tell him what to do because he hadn’t a damn clue. This was his first time. It wasn’t like he had access to anything that would teach him back on Hyberian. His mother would have freaked out if she had caught him anyway, and he would never have risked such shame.

“Turn over, baby. Lie on your stomach.”

Mykel did, his entire body shaking as his ass was exposed to Mo’s perusal. He stiffened when he felt Mo’s callused hands run up and down his rear end and then dip into the crease of his ass.

Mykel just knew he was going to go up in flames when Mo’s finger circled his forbidden entrance, playing with it, teasing it until it was pulsing to be filled. His breath hitched when the tip of Mo’s finger breached him. Mo didn’t push it in any further. It just sat there as his mate kissed him up and down his spine.

“So sweet.”

Mykel shuddered at his mate’s sexy tone. He was praising him, telling him just how good his body felt, and that pleased Mykel more than anything. He wanted Mo to approve of everything about Mykel, even his body.

Mo stretched out beside him, kissing his shoulder as he slowly worked his finger into Mykel’s ass. He wasn’t sure when Mo had lubed his finger, but he could feel the cool gel as his mate stretched him.

“You’re beautiful, Mykel. So beautiful.”

The words were priceless to Mykel. No one had ever praised him like this before. His heart was soaring as Mo slid a second finger into him. Mykel sucked his bottom lip in as his eyes fluttered closed, breathing through the uncomfortable feel of having someone breach him and glorying in the feel of having Mo touch him so intimately.

The burn was quickly morphing into pleasure as Mykel began to whimper with pleasure.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch me.”

Mykel cracked his eyes open as he rolled to his side and turned his head, staring into Mo’s as another finger was added. They were stretched out on the bed, facing each other with Mo’s hand snaked over his hip, pressing his fingers deeply into Mykel’s ass.

Mykel pulled his leg up, laying it on Mo’s hip as he began to push back onto his mate’s fingers. The pleasure-pain was driving him into a place he had never been before and making him cry out as Mo pulled his hand free.

“On your belly, baby.”

Mykel turned over, once again on display for his mate’s approval. Large, warm hands caressed him before Mo pulled at his hips, bringing Mykel to his hands and knees. This was it. His mate was about to claim him.

“Relax,” Mo murmured as he pressed the head of his cock into Mykel’s back entrance, pushing slowly until the head breached him. He could feel it pop past the ring of muscles. The burn tore through him, but Mykel forced himself to relax as Mo had commanded.

“That’s it, baby,” Mo crooned as he inched in by tiny increments. “You feel so damn good.”

Mykel thrust backward, impaling his ass fully on Mo’s cock in his excitement. God, was that a mistake. He yelped as Mo stilled. Fuck if that didn’t hurt like hell.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Mykel.” The reprimand was light, with a hint of worry in Mo’s voice. He loved that his mate was worried, but Mykel had been so caught up in the excitement of the moment that common sense had fled from him.

“I’m sorry,” Mykel said as neither of them moved.

The pain finally ebbed away, leaving nothing but unimaginable pleasure in its wake. Mykel groaned, pushing back slightly, testing to see if his mate would disapprove.

“Ready?”

Mykel could hear the strain in Mo’s voice. There was an edge to it that told Mykel that Mo was close to losing it. He loved that he had that effect on his mate. He loved that his mate was just as lost in the moment as he was.

“Yes,” Mykel answered as he gripped the sheets, preparing himself for what he knew was coming, or what he suspected.

I'll be your Last by Jane Leopold Quinn

2012-01-28T14:31:00.000-08:00

I'll Be Your Last

BLURB:

Life dealt Mack Penchant a raw deal. He's hidden his sexuality, the secret he's carried since he was a teen, through the Marine Corps, and now as an undercover cop. The only relationships he believes possible for himself is the furry kind, with his dog Kiki. One young cop, though, drives him to a frenzy, and he fights his passions and needs every step of the way.

Woody Kane’s gaydar spots Mack the moment they meet. And even though Mack rejects him, Woody lusts after the perfect masculine body and wants him in his bed. Woody believes in commitment. Mack makes it clear he does not. Can Woody prove to Mack that he's worthy of love? After all, he adopted a rescue dog. Isn't that a start?

What peril will it take for Mack to accept Woody's love and join him in a committed relationship?

ADULT EXCERPT:

With quick, sure fingers, Mack slid Woody’s jacket and shirt down his arms and dropped them with a plonk onto the floor. They stood there, staring—almost glaring—into each other’s eyes, bare chests bumping and heaving for air. Mack’s blue gaze darkened with increasing arousal. Woody dropped to his knees to the place of real importance. His mouth was at belt buckle height, but, there was no belt. Just a snap and zipper, the hiss of it lowering agonizingly loud over their heavy breathing and Woody’s wolfish growls.

Woody unclipped Mack’s gun and holster, and his, too, while he was at it, laying both on the coffee table. Then, he palmed Mack’s hips, pushing his jeans down. Commando. Oh, the pure, intoxicating rapture of that. Then a glorious erection jutted right in his face. “God, Mack.” He groaned at the beautiful, thick, pulsing cock begging for attention. He couldn’t resist flicking out his tongue and licking the rounded head with its leaking drop of seminal fluid, the musky perfume of sex filling his head.

“Suck me,” Mack ordered gruffly, flexing his hips. “Suck my cock, kid.”

Woody jerked back, almost knocking Mack over. He stood, fists clenched at his sides, and lashed out in fury, “I’m no kid, and you know it. Call me that once more, and your dick can just stay dry.”

“I’m tired of standing. Where’s your bedroom?”

He glared daggers at Mack, his breathing roughening in his struggle to keep from belting the guy. This was bad. The feral expression on Mack’s face did nothing short of turn him on even more than he already was. This was going to be so good, so fucking raunchy.

Woody would prove he was no God damned kid. His nostrils flared in excitement, and he wasted no time in shoving a stumbling Mack toward his bedroom. They’d need to be there eventually for round two. Might as well get there now.

He shoved Mack onto the bed, yanking his shoes, socks, and finally jeans off, tossing them all on the floor. At Mack’s carnal, and surprisingly vulnerable, cobalt gaze, he froze at the sight of the beautiful naked body, the broad chest, narrow hips, flat belly, and muscular thighs stretched out on the white sheets. Roughly, he lifted and spread Mack’s knees, crawled between them, and stopped. His heart seized at the intimacy of seeing the balls and pucker on display, the asshole he’d dreamed of taking. He liked being fucked, and he liked doing the fucking. And this was one man he really wanted to fuck.

Narrowing his gaze, he taunted, “Does a kid do this?” Leaning down, he licked the thick head of Mack’s cock, rolled his tongue around, getting him all wet, probing the slit, nipping at it, scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

Mack groaned, and his penis swelled longer and harder, apparently responding to the rough treatment.

With a lavish lick at the salty drop slithering from the hole, Woody glanced up and, lifting an eyebrow, challenged, “Huh? Am I still a kid to you?”

Mack grunted, and with an evil smirk, he thrust his erection toward Woody’s lips. “Suck me off and swallow it, kid. You do that, and I’ll call you a man.”

“You son of a bitch!” Woody used Mack’s hard thighs as leverage to push himself to his feet and back away. “You’re just here for a blow job? I don’t need to suck you off to prove I’m a man.” He’d never been this furious before in his life. “I’m not playing games with you. Get the hell out of here.”

With all this testosterone and adrenaline working, he should have realized Mack just wanted a physical outlet. It would mean nothing to Mack. Woody would mean nothing.

Mack realized instantly he’d gone too far. “This isn’t a game.” He grabbed Woody’s arm and yanked him down on the bed beside him, gripping his jaw—oh yeah, his beard was soft—and slinging a thigh over his legs.

Woody’s long lashes rested on his cheeks. Then his eyes opened, his gaze intrigued and eager. Woody didn’t want to stop this any more than Mack did.

Their kisses had been much more addictive than he’d imagined possible. Woody’s lips held firm against his, the short hairs of his beard tickling. Mack licked, roughly working his way inside his mouth. Then Woody was his. Pressing his hairy chest on Woody’s hard one, the warm, sleek skin a comfort all its own, he took his mouth, scraped his teeth with the flat of his tongue, teasing the tip across the roof, suckling Woody’s tongue.

It’d been a long time since he’d felt this out of control. Breaking the kiss, he pushed up. “Where’s your stuff?” He was frantic to fuck the kid. “I want inside your ass.”

Woody’s expression was dazed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Drawer.” He pointed in the direction of the nightstand.

“You can’t be fucked with your jeans on.” Mack gripped Woody’s snap, lowered the zipper, and shoved the pants down long legs, leaving him in gray boxer briefs stretched snugly around lightly furred, muscular thighs. Muscular just like his. His heart stuttered with desperate need. Woody’s body was everything he wanted in another man.

The tight knit of the boxers barely hid Woody’s sizeable cock, erect and ready to bust out of the soft material. Mack yanked the shorts off and wrapped his fingers around Woody’s shaft, caressing his cock from base to tip. His eyes closed in the pleasure of controlling the hard heat, his mouth watering for a taste.

He had no intention of depriving either of them of that pleasure, and lowered his mouth to slide over the head. Nothing in the world was as delicious as another man’s red, shiny cock head, glistening wet with spit and pre-cum. He licked it like an ice cream cone, sticking to the tip, tonguing and nipping the slit the same as Woody had done to him. Mack needed the rough handling of his dick. He’d find out if Woody did, too.

With a shout, Woody jerked his hips off the bed, thrusting his cock full into Mack’s mouth.

His nose nestled in Woody’s pubic hair. Oh, yeah! Man scent made him hungry for more.

http://www.janeleopoldquinn.com

Better by Jaime Samms

2012-01-27T06:29:00.000-08:00

The past never goes away. Getting better is about learning to live with the truth.

Blurb:After filing charges that put his abusive ex-Dom behind bars, Jesse Turbul relocates across the country, hoping to escape his past—but, of course, it's never that easy. When Jesse meets third-year law student Aadon at the library where he works, their mutual attraction is instant and obvious.

Despite the sparks, they just can't seem to make it work. Aadon is mired in guilt over his inability to help his older brother, damaged by events far too similar to to Jesse's past. Jesse is stuck in his own desperate wish to forget the painful shadow that continues to threaten him and any hope of a happy future.

The only way to move forward is for Jesse to acknowledge he's broken and for Aadon to accept he can't make him better.

Buy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2739&osCsid=to1sc0u2342r40ga7qpjhjlvs6

Excerpt: Jesse watched his date for a while, waiting for the blond head to lift. Only when Mike came to the table a few minutes later did Aadon look up. He glanced at Jesse, turned to Mike and placed his order, waited until Jesse had ordered and Mike had left before quietly excusing himself from the table.

Jesse waited a long time, much longer than it would take for Aadon to use the facilities, before following him.

The heavy restroom door swung open on silent hinges, and the peculiar smell of a bathroom trying too hard not to smell like a bathroom engulfed him. Jesse drew in a silent breath and stepped inside.

Aadon leaned on the counter by the sinks, his back to the mirror.

“I’m sorry.” Jesse tried to make the apology light, tried to see into Aadon’s shrouded eyes.

Finally, Aadon looked at him. “Why?”

“I got a little defensive.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart, sheepish smile on his face.

Aadon stifled a groan. How could he be so fiery one minute, and this…adorable the next and not know how crazy it made him? He pushed himself off the sink and closed his hand around Jesse’s fingers, closing the space and kissing the fingertips. “Maybe that’s the point. As long as you feel you have to defend yourself around me, I have to be careful.” He closed his eyes, kept his lips pressed to his warm fingers.

God this was hard. He wasn’t doing Jesse any good, wanting him this bad, knowing he couldn’t—shouldn’t—and knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. He shouldn’t still even be with him. It was too much. He

just wasn’t what Jesse needed.

Jesse felt the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach even before Aadon spoke again and yanked his hand free, mouth open, ready to fill the void before Aadon could speak. Before he could say what Jesse knew he was

about to say. He was too slow.

Aadon took his face in both hands, tilting it up and looking into his eyes. “As long as I have to be that careful, this can’t work.”

“But—”

“Because I don’t want to be careful, Jesse,” Aadon went on, overriding his faint protest, passing a thumb over Jesse’s lips and backing him up against a stall.

“Then don’t.” The words warbled out past Jesse’s pulse fluttering in his throat. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be careful.” Aadon’s toned body pressed his against the cold metal. The rush of fear and excitement mingled, and he knew he’d lost the ability to tell which was which. He didn’t know if he cared.

“If I’m not, I could do more damage than Anthony ever did.” Aadon’s palm caressed his cheek, his fingers slid into Jesse’s hair, and he kissed; a light strike of his lips and tongue, there and gone too quickly to capture, but

expertly bringing him back down to where he could almost breathe normally.

The rush faded, and Jesse wanted it back.

He gripped the front of Aadon’s shirt, preventing him from moving away. “You’re not anything like Anthony, and I’m not who I was then.” He never would have demanded Anthony answer his desire like this. Kissing Aadon firmly, not hard or angry, just without compromise, Jesse closed his eyes, willed the other man to understand. He needed this so desperately. Needed to know he was wanted, desired. Needed to know Aadon could look

on him as a man and not a shattered thing.

A soft groan welled in Aadon’s throat and spilled out into Jesse’s kiss. It was so good. So sweet, and held so much conviction. It was, finally, too much to resist. He answered it, tongue stroke for tongue stroke, slowly

wresting control of the kiss from Jesse as he pinned him between his hard body and the cold metal of the bathroom stall. His big hands cupped Jesse’s head, his body an immovable weight against him, soaking in Jesse’s heat and desire, keeping him still and contained.

Jesse couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his fingers tightened to fists in Aadon’s shirt. This was exactly the kind of mindless surrender he’d always craved. Exactly what Anthony had never once given him. Because Anthony

had never asked for it the way Aadon was doing with his firm, gentle touches and his warm hands, possessive, but not hard or hurtful. Jesse let go of that last bit of control and felt his head impact the stall wall with a soft thud. His hands relaxed, his body heated and melted to conform with Aadon’s, and he opened that last little bit to feel Aadon’s tongue sweep in and possess him.

Jaime Samms

Where There's Smokeby L.A. Witt

2012-01-27T04:02:00.000-08:00

Link: http://loriawitt.com/Books_by_L.html#smoke

Blurb:

Anthony Hunter wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into when he agrees to manage an unproven candidate’s campaign for governor of California. As soon as he meets the gorgeous, charismatic—and married—politician, attraction gives Anthony’s rock-solid professionalism a run for its money, and Anthony knows he’s in way over his head.

Jesse Cameron doesn’t like the idea of putting himself out there as a happily married, wholesome candidate, but his retired senator uncle insists it’ll give him an edge over a challenging rival. The only problem is that Jesse’s marriage is over, existing only to maintain his heterosexual façade. Oh, and there’s that minor detail about his undeniable attraction to his smoking hot campaign manager. Or the fact that the attraction is very, very mutual.

Before long, temptation explodes into a sizzling, secret relationship, but under the microscope of the media and the relentless scrutiny of the voting public, Anthony and Jesse can only keep their secret for so long. And this is one scandal a campaign won’t survive…
L. A. Witt & Lauren Gallagher
Abnormal Romance Author
2010 Carnal Passions Author of the Year
Website * Professional Blog * Personal Blog * Webcomic * Twitter

Tempting Sin by Amber Kell

2012-01-23T19:18:00.000-08:00

Release January 28th Buy link

Blurb

Ex-mercenary Sinclair Alverston has no idea how celebrity chef Callum Turner will change his life. Callum doesn't know what to think about Sin's overprotective, domineering behavior, but the man is hot, and there's something delicious about tempting Sin.

When ex-mercenary Sinclair Alverston spots celebrity chef Callum Turner at a bar, he has no idea how the slim blond will change his life.

Callum doesn't know what to think about Sin's overprotective, domineering behavior, but the man is hot, so he succumbs to his attraction.

When a fan turns stalker, Callum has no choice but to let his lover take over and keep him safe. All he can hope is, in the long run, their relationship will thrive and Callum can continue tempting Sin.

READER CAUTION: This title is an expanded, re-edited release.

Excerpt:
Sinclair Alverston sat at the bar, nursing his scotch. Hot, sweaty bodies covered the dance floor, but his heart wasn't in the show. Watching the same men primp and preen to each other like a group of rutting peacocks each weekend was getting on his last damn nerve.

At thirty-two years of age, Sinclair was sick of one-night stands and ready to settle down with that one special man. However, as many times as he went out every weekend, he'd never found "the one".

Despite the horrific things he'd seen in his work as a mercenary, Sinclair knew, deep in his bones, that one day he would meet his soul mate. His best friend and business partner, Patrick, thought he was certifiably insane--not a new accusation--but that didn't stop him from optimistically checking out every man he met, gay or straight, short or tall. He didn't know how his soul mate would come packaged, but he knew some day he would meet the perfect man to fill the holes in his life, the parts so empty that some days he thought he could feel an arctic breeze rushing through his soul.

Depression dug at him with dull claws as Sinclair took another drink of scotch. His reflection in the bar mirror caught his eye. He wasn't a bad-looking guy with his dark hair and eyes. Sure his face was all rough angles, but a lot of guys liked that badass look. A rock hard body added to his appeal, carved to perfection by a strict training and exercise regimen. The t-shirt he wore advertised his muscles to anyone interested in looking.

Why couldn't he find a man worth keeping?

"Hello, Sinclair," a soft voice spoke beside him. "Long time, no fucking."

Sinclair turned to see a red-haired man sliding onto the stool beside him. He'd played with the guy before. His name was Nate, or Ned, or something. He gave the man a speculative look, trying to decide if it was better to cut his losses for the night and settle for Mr Get-Me-Off-Now or wait and see if there were better prospects. His mother always said "you don't find Mr Right at a skanky bar". Of course she said this to his sister, but the same rules applied.

He'd almost decided to take the man up on his offer when a stir in the crowd grabbed his attention. A slim blond walked through a group of dancers, and Sinclair felt his heart flip in his chest. Although he usually went for men in the six-foot and taller range, there was something sweet and vulnerable about the beautiful man who would only be six feet tall if he stood on a footstool and wore shoes with really thick soles. What he wore instead were black leather boots, a matching black leather jacket, and a pair of jeans so tight Sinclair discovered a new religion and was ready to worship at its denim-clad altar.

As he watched, the fascinating creature approached the bar and settled several stools down from Sinclair. Trying to be unobtrusive, he watched the new object of his obsession talk to the bartender. A moment later a cold bottle of water was passed over and money exchanged hands. The man moved with an unconscious grace, and Sinclair would've happily paid money to see the man dance. The blond's sleek, lightly-muscled body and smooth unblemished skin made Sin want to make marks of his own... with his teeth.

"No, thank you," he said absently to the redhead still waiting for a reply.

The other man followed Sinclair's gaze. "If you're holding out for Callum, you're wasting your time," he said bitterly.

Sinclair tore his gaze away from the gorgeous blond. "Why? Is he already taken?"

"No. He's just picky."

"Excellent. So am I."

He waved a hand, shooing the other man away. He didn't have time for jealous twinks, and having the other man near might deter the blond god of his dreams. As if he could feel Sinclair's stare, Callum looked up and locked eyes with him.

Sinclair gave the man a cool nod. He wanted to look interested, not desperate, despite the fact his cock was banging at his zipper and begging to come out and play.

For the first time in a long while, Sinclair felt the thrill of the hunt as the slim blond trailed his fingers across his bottle of water. He could almost feel the debate going through Callum's head on whether or not to approach Sinclair. Deciding a little encouragement might be needed, Sinclair crooked his finger at the little blond. There was no way he was going to let this one get away over a little miscommunication. Although he couldn't see the color of Callum's eyes, Sinclair could feel the heat of the man's stare.

After several moments of looking, Callum smiled and, like a slinky cat, sauntered toward him.

Halfway to Sinclair, the man's eye color came into focus.

Sea-green.

The man who'd caught his eye and, even rarer, his imagination, had brilliant green-blue eyes, an eye color Sinclair had never seen before. Fascinated, he watched the blond approach.

* * * *

Callum's heart beat with thundering speed. The sexiest man in the room was looking at Callum like he had an aching sweet tooth and Callum was made entirely out of candy. Keeping his steps slow and languorous, he approached the gorgeous stranger while trying to remember all the tips about walking sexy an ex-stripper once taught him.

Judging from the heat in the other man's eyes, he was doing everything right.

"Good evening," the handsome man said when Callum reached him.

Callum took a sip of his water to wet his suddenly dry throat. "Good evening."

The man stood up, and Callum took a surprised step back. Sitting, the man had looked big; standing, he was fucking enormous.

Callum's modest five foot nine frame barely came to the man's shoulder.

"I'm Sinclair Alverston," the dark-haired man said, holding out his hand. "But everyone calls me Sin."

Callum took a deep breath before shaking Sin's hand. The large man had a predatory gaze that would make a tiger feel like prey. A tingle went through Callum at the skin-to-skin contact.

Yum.

"Callum Turner," he said, trying to keep the excited tremor out of his voice. Sin was the sexiest thing he'd seen in a long while, and if the heat of their handshake was any indication, this man would be more than willing to follow him home.

Sin used their joined hands to yank him closer. Leaning over, he spoke directly into Callum's ear. "You are exactly what I've been looking for."

Callum swallowed the moisture suddenly flooding his mouth. Now he knew how it felt to be struck by lightning. Sexual energy arced between them, racing back and forth between their clasped hands. It took all of Callum's self-control to resist the urge to drop to his knees and worship the sexy god who'd chosen him for the evening. "People call you Sin?"

"All the time," the big man purred. "Want to come home with me and I can show you how I live up to the name?"

Callum shook his head. It might be a deal breaker, but his rule was firm. "I don't go home with strange guys. You can come to my house, but I don't go to strangers' homes. I had a bad experience once."

He suppressed a shudder. The memory still brought up nightmares when he got too tired.

Sin nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll leave that until we know each other better. Do you want to be with me tonight or not?"

There it was out on the table. Did he really want this dark-haired stud wearing leather pants and a tight t-shirt that showed off his massive arms and muscular chest?

Shivers of need went through his body.

Hell yeah, he wanted him!

Callum gave a shaky nod, grabbed Sinclair's wrist, and headed for the door, pulling the big man behind him. Before he'd gone more than a few steps, he was jolted to a stop. Callum turned his head as Sin pried Callum's grip off his wrist with a pointed look. Shit, he'd just met the man, and already he'd ruined it. To his surprise, instead of leaving, Sin wrapped an arm around Callum's shoulders. "Take it easy, honey. I don't like to be dragged."

"Oh. Sorry." Callum felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. All his manners had gone out the window at the thought of getting his mouth and hands on the gorgeous man beside him.

"Don't be sorry," Sin said, wrapping an arm around Callum and tucking him beneath his shoulder. "I like that you're so eager, but there's no hurry. We've got all night."

"I'll try to take it slow," Callum agreed automatically. He wouldn't really. The quicker he dragged this guy to his condo the better.

--
Amber Kell
Sit down and have a little read

http://amberkell.wordpress.com/

The Swimming Swan by Amber Kell & Stephani Hecht

2012-01-23T19:12:00.000-08:00

Available January 25th here

Fisher Cob sat on a log of driftwood and looked out over the sea. The waves crashed against the boulders, sending up bright sprays of water into the sky. Oceans called to him, they always had. Something about the movement of the waves, the smell of salty wetness and the feeling of utter peace the ocean gave him banished his homesickness.

As much as he loved the kingdom of Aria, he was going to miss Earth when he went home. Last time they’d talked, his brother Landon had said they were heading back to Aria soon. Although he would return when his brother, the future king, demanded, Fisher had mixed feelings about going home. The man he’d been dating on and off for the past three months wasn’t permanent material, Fisher knew that. Nonetheless, Jimmy had been entertaining. Fisher would miss the freedom to date whoever he wanted without the entire court watching. At least on Earth, he knew they dated him because they liked him, not due to his royal status.

Fisher wasn’t looking for something permanent, unlike Landon, who had the entire kingdom on his shoulders. Fisher just wanted to have a good time. Luckily, his relationship with Jimmy was winding down. He could tell by the fidgety way their dates had gone lately that his semi-boyfriend was looking for greener pastures. Since Jimmy’s disappointment in their relationship aligned neatly with Fisher going back to Aria, he didn’t really have any motivation to try and fix it. A bit selfish of him, he knew, but Fisher didn’t like confrontation. Another reason he enjoyed being second in line for the throne instead of first. He didn’t have the skills necessary to run an entire kingdom. No, he was content with being second and following his brother’s lead in life.

A shiver pimpled his skin, making him realize that with the sun going down, he should’ve brought a jacket. Shaking his head at his lack of preparation, Fisher stood up and skipped a stone across the water. His eyes followed the stone until he heard a loud, “Ouch.”

“What the hell?” Squinting his eyes, Fisher tried to make out anything among the waves. Was someone swimming out there? He couldn’t see a soul, and the sunlight from the setting sun reflected brilliantly across the water and prevented any good visibility. “Hello,” he shouted.

No response.

Huh.

If he hadn’t imagined the voice, the person must be all right. After all, if he’d knocked them unconscious with that little rock, they wouldn’t have been able to yell.

“Hey, Fisher.” Jimmy’s voice reached him over the sound of the waves.

He spun around in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Jimmy gave him a bashful smile. “I wanted to have dinner together. I knew this is your favorite spot when you have time to yourself. I thought I’d take a chance and swing by.”

Fisher’s stomach growled. Looking up into Jimmy’s friendly green eyes, he smiled. “Sure, that would be great.”

He knew Jimmy didn’t harbor any deep feelings for him. There was too much laid-back surfer boy in Jimmy to obsess about anyone. They might not have a hot romance, but there was nothing wrong with friends with benefits as Earth people called it. He went to the tips of his toes and let Jimmy tug him closer.

“Mmm,” he moaned against Jimmy’s mouth.

Jimmy wrapped his hands around Fisher’s hips and pulled him tight in an unexpected show of passion. Fisher tried to ease back. They were out in public, and Earth people didn’t show affection between men as openly as they did in Aria.

“What the hell!” Jimmy let Fisher go as a wave washed over the men, breaking them apart. “But it’s low tide,” Jimmy exclaimed as the water swirled around his calves.

Fisher laughed as their pants became soaked to the skin.

Ominous dark clouds rolled across the water. Fisher frowned. “Let’s get out of this weird weather.”

Arms looped through each other’s, they made their way across the sand and out of the tumultuous sea.

Jimmy laughed. “That was freaky.”

Fisher nodded, but he couldn’t help looking back. If they were in Aria, he would’ve suspected magic, but everyone knew that just didn’t happen on Earth.

--
Amber Kell
Sit down and have a little read

http://amberkell.wordpress.com/

To Urn her Love by Elaina Lee

2012-01-23T14:27:00.000-08:00

When Caylie Abrams brother, Kyle, says he has a gift for her, she never expected what he handed her... Or who the 'gift' previously belonged to.

Blurb –

Caylie Abrahms bad day gets worse when the teen brother she's responsible for proudly hands her a gift. Just wanting to show how much he appreciates all his sister does for him, Kyle steals what he believes is an ornate glass vase. The gift is anything but however, and now Caylie has to find the owner of an urn. Worst yet, she has to explain her dear brother stole someone's loved one.

Against all odds she learns the urn belongs to Rick Marshall, her best friend from college, the man she'd poured her heart out to and been rejected by. She never thought she'd see him again, let alone have to hand him back his father in glass. Will her resolve remain strong in his presence, or will she suffer another broken heart?

To purchase from:

Astraea Press
http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=1011841&mode=product&product=4810596 ($1.00)

Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/To-Urn-Her-Love-ebook/dp/B005D9TK4U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1326906110&sr=8-1 ($1.00)

Excerpt –

In silence, they walked the corridor flanking the stairs to the second story. Kyle stayed behind, digging through the plate of refreshments. They passed two doors and Caylie began to wonder just how large his home was. She dared not look around too much, afraid she'd grow jealous and feel even more insignificant than she already did. There were no disillusions in her life, she knew she was poor. Never before though had she felt impoverished. Until now. However, she did keep a roof over hers and Kyle's head and they never went without a meal. Those were at least things she could be proud of. He opened a door to the left and motioned inside.

ʺOn the desk. May I ask first though, who you're calling?"

With a sheepish smile, she held up the card. ʺA cab, I... accidentally locked my keys in my car this afternoon."

He stepped inside and closed the door. ʺI can give you a ride home."

Shaking her head, she took the card between both her hands and stared down at it. Anything not to look at him and his way too

handsome face and the body that proved he did hard labor. A few strands of gray stood out in his dark brown hair, slight lines appeared when he smiled, but other than that, the man was still dangerously good-looking. Only now he had a few years that took away that fresh-from-school look and a filled out frame that came with manhood. Alone in a room with him was so not where she wanted to be.

ʺI couldn't possibly ask for anything more from you. We have done more than enough."

ʺNo," he said softly and the light, musky scent of his cologne filled her nose as he moved closer. ʺYour brother has done enough.

You did nothing but return what was stolen, hours after it happened, I might add. You did me a huge favor, especially since my mother happened to show up to get a good look at the urn."

ʺSomething you wouldn't have even had to worry about if my brother hadn't taken it in the first place." She shook her head and put some distance between them, moving towards the phone. ʺI'm sorry, I can't accept anything else from you. Agreeing not to press charges and then giving my brother an opportunity to do some good...it's more than enough, more than I could thank you for."

Before she could reach the phone, his hand wrapped around her upper arm. His touch sent waves of longing through her body. Not wanting to feel anything stronger, she brushed his hand away, thankful he released her without hesitation. His eyes darkened with anger and something she couldn't place and wasn't sure if she wanted to.

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First Kiss by Elaina Lee

2012-01-23T14:23:00.000-08:00

First Kiss: A light hearted contemporary romance about forgiveness and
second chances.

Blurb –

A passionate night turns into something unexpected, a chance at
happiness. Until a cynical mistake and costly lie shatter everything.

When Michelle Seaborne is assigned Alexander Trent at the music label
she works for, she knows she's in for a rough time. Fifteen years ago,
Alexander was her first kiss. The moment, and his handsome face, have
haunted Michelle's dreams ever since. Of course, he doesn't remember
her. So, if she plays her cards carefully, he won't, and they can move
on with the project, her heart unscathed. What she doesn't count on is a
sensuous night in his arms, and the hope for something more. Any beliefs
for a relationship are dashed when Alexander hands her a box, a thank
you for a night, and a goodbye.

A man can only make so many mistakes, and Alexander is ready to stop
making them. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself. An
unexpected passion filled night changes everything, and unsure of the
future he can give, he does the only thing he knows how. He ends
anything before it can begin. Something about Michelle pulls at his
memory though. Despite her assurance they've never met, Alexander can't
help but wonder, how does he know her? As doubts about Michelle's words
grow, so do his feelings towards her. Only now, how does he redeem
himself?

Decadent
http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=240&osCs\
id=e095catnniavkt2odmcbu2iko1 ($3.99)

Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/First-Kiss-ebook/dp/B004UB0CTY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8\
&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1301522204&sr=8-1 ($4.99)

Excerpt –

Michelle stared at Emily, her heart raced. Oh God, she was going to be working with him! Alexander Trent had a terrible reputation for perfection. He wouldn’t settle for anything less. Michelle worked with perfectionists every day; she had very little control over creativity. This meant, for hours, she and Alexander would be alone, in a small mixing booth, listening to his powerful piano while she added what he wanted.

“Michelle? Are you all right?”

“What am I going to do?” she asked in panic. “What…am I going to do?”

“Yep, it’s official,” Emily said with a resigned sigh. “You have to introduce yourself now. Get it over with at this party. Use me as an excuse to leave his presence if you must. I won’t get mad.”

Her hands fisted at her side and she growled. “Ohhh, you’re so aggravating!”

“Go on, Mr. Gorgeous is waiting.”

Emily spun her around and gave a shove, sending Michelle stumbling into the throng of company guests. Perhaps if she looked at Alexander as a man who’d break her heart, she wouldn’t have such a hard time. Great, she settled the issue. Alexander would treat her like every other man, she’d take it, say thank you and carry on with her life. Perfect. She could do this.

What if he was different, though? What if underneath the now shorter brown hair, cute nose, sensual mouth, and tall, built frame, he cared…that thought had Michelle pausing.

After all, wasn’t he getting out of the Rock industry to start over? Maybe, just maybe, someone normal, like her and not Blondie over there, would fit the bill. With a shake of her head she frowned. Why was she doing this to herself? Unlike high school, fantasizing about him giving up the girl didn't work. Emily was right. Be professional, say hello, get the moment of torment over with, and go home to be with Muffie.

Ten feet from him, Michelle used every second it took to close the distance convincing herself she was better than the woman on his arm. Her five-foot-four, hundred and thirty pound frame had nothing on that stick figure. Her auburn hair was far prettier, longer even, down to her hips, without the bleach damage. Hah! She knew that hair was fake from across the room. And her face…well, some valued delicate features. Russian facial structures were so…mannish. Michelle smiled.

Quelling the butterflies in her stomach, she stopped behind him and readied herself to speak before he could turn around. Then the unthinkable happened. The room began to rise in a loud count down. Oh no! Ten…nine…eight…The first kiss of New Year’s…. Her sense of flight kicked in and she whirled around, but everyone in the room converged together, their glasses held up. The shouting intensified. Six…five…four…

The perfect kiss he would give the woman was too much for Michelle. She’d seen pictures of those lips kiss too many women, felt the stupid pang of unwarranted jealousy. All she wanted to do was cover her ears, disappear into the floor, willing the night to be over. She settled on simply closing her eyes and standing still. No one would notice her. They never did.

“One!” The room erupted into a loud roar.

Strong lips touched to hers, soft, caressing. Her eyes flew open as he pulled away, her stomach flipping in nervous disbelief.

Alexander smiled. “Happy New Year.”

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Written in Blood by Elaina Lee

2012-01-23T14:21:00.000-08:00

Written in Blood

Heat Level – 3

Buy Links:

Noble Romance - https://www.nobleromance.com/Books/203/Written-in-Blood ($5.99)

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Written-in-Blood-ebook/dp/B004GXAYZ8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1294165812&sr=1-1 ($5.99)

All Romance - http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-writteninblood-496834-148.html ($5.99)

Bookstrand - http://www.bookstrand.com/written-in-blood ($5.99)

Blurb -

Lyndi Crisdean is assigned one of the hardest cases in her career as a defense attorney. A serial murder case. Investigating is Alek Trevian, the lead investigator for the district attorney, and a handsome and supremely dangerous man. Lyndi finds herself in over her head when she chooses desire for Alek over common sense. If they're caught, Lyndi will lose everything she's worked for. Circumstances beyond her control pull her toward Alek, for he turns out to be the only one who can help when threats start to mount against her.

Lyndi may be the key Alek needs to bring down a murderous cult running loose in his city. When her beach house is broken into and a man begins to tail Lyndi, Alek can't help but reason Lyndi may be next on the cult's hitlist. The question is, will he discover the identity of the cult, keep her safe, and still win the case against the serial killer she's defending, all while losing a battle against the strong, untamable desire she alone ignites within him?

Excerpt -

Warmth and the faint, woodsy notes of his cologne surrounded her as he braced his forearm on the wall above her. She pressed her back into the wall. Her heart pounded. He leaned in, and his mouth brushed against her ear. The moist heat of his breath caused a shiver to race up her spine.

"You know, I don't think I can stop myself from kissing you when I get the chance," he whispered, and Lyndi squeezed her eyes shut as a tremor of desire rushed through her body. "Any objections?"

Words lodged in her throat. All she could manage was to open her lips. Just enough for him to take her silence as the invitation he obviously needed, for his mouth to crash onto hers.

Rational thought fled. Her purse and keys thudded to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body to his. Everything about this was wrong, so, so wrong. Yet she couldn't stop her mouth from opening. Couldn't deny the way his tongue sweeping past her lips brought a tremor of excitement she'd never experienced before.

His mouth slanted over hers, and Lyndi clung to him, her legs weak. With a heavy thump, her body hit the wall as he pressed against her. Cold air brushed her skin, and she realized he'd untucked her shirt. Feather light, his fingers brushed along the sensitive flesh of her side. When his mouth pulled free, she almost welcomed the reprieve. His touch brought a wave of teasing pleasure on the way toward her breast.

Agonizingly slow, his fingers trailed up her ribs. His lips worked their way down her jaw, to her neck, stopping over her pounding heartbeat. Lyndi dropped her head back, and a tiny moan escaped before she could stop it. Underneath the underwire of her bra, his hand finally settled over her breast. Her nipple peaked, and she arched into his grasp. His hand gently massaged and pulled.

"Perfect," he purred against her skin, and Lyndi almost melted to the floor.

Once again, his lips found hers. His tongue teased, exploring her mouth, but never allowing her control. Then his hand slid free of her bra, and she wanted to cry.

His hand slipped out and the cool satin of her shirt settled over her skin, reminding her of what used to be there, bringing attention to the tendrils of longing deep within her. Slowly, his mouth eased away from hers. She knew she should be thankful he stopped, but she wasn't. She wanted more. Lots more.

He bent down and picked her things off the floor. He handed her the keys and purse. "You be careful, and drive to work from now on."

All she could do was watch as he walked down the hall and then disappeared onto the elevator. Resting her head back against the wall, she tried to take a deep, calming breath. The effort was useless. The man was going to kill her long before anyone else would get the chance . . . .

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Special D for Three by Cooper McKenzie

2012-01-23T03:53:00.000-08:00

Special D for Three
Men Out of Uniform 3

By: Cooper McKenzie | Other books by Cooper McKenzie
Categories: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois/Quatre
Word Count: 25,906
Heat Level: SEXTREME
Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

PRE-ORDER!

AVAILABLE: Thursday, January 26th

[Ménage Amour: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F with M/M]

On her first day managing her mother’s Pennsylvania yarn store, Molly Potter finds herself caught in the middle of a blizzard with no supplies or way to get home. Before she can panic, UPS driver Ryan Carmichael arrives to play the hero by delivering her to the safety of the house he shares with his lover, Jake Grove.

As the storm rages beyond the walls of the Grove Mansion, inside the three find their attraction to one another sparks a bonfire that heats up the entire house. When the men tell her of Ryan’s trouble with the government, Molly finds herself in a position to help. Will she? Or will she walk away when the roads open?

A Siren Erotic Romance

Now Available!

Men Out of Uniform

Raven's Mark by Jade Archer

2012-01-17T18:35:00.000-08:00

Raven’s Mark – by Jade Archer

Blurb :

Book Two in the Sandpipers Series

Sometimes the strength to fight the past lies in the love and friendship of the present.

Mark Carter has taken care of himself and those around him since he was a teenager. But with his younger brother and sister now packed off to college, he finds himself suddenly alone. Throwing everything he has into his new position at Sandpipers Restaurant leaves little time for anything else. And that’s just fine by Mark. Then Raven stumbles into his life and everything changes. Mark can’t help wanting to know more about the mysterious man. Which is easier said than done. Raven is painfully shy, a single parent and stutters, especially when he’s nervous. But Mark is determined to get to know the warm, intelligent man he glimpses beneath the quiet exterior. The question is, will Raven let him?

Raven finally has a chance to start again. He’s determined to put the past behind him and do whatever it takes to create a normal life for his young son, Ryan. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He doesn’t have much acquaintance with ‘normal’, and the past has a way of intruding on the present no matter how hard he tries to escape it. Can he trust Mark with his secrets? And more importantly…should he?

Excerpt :

With a tired sigh, Raven pulled into a vacant parking space and stared up at the stark white facade of the optimistically named ‘Oceanview Apartments’ building. A dozen blocks back from the sea there wasn’t much chance of an ocean view, but right now Raven couldn’t have cared less. After weeks of aimlessly wandering and purposely backtracking, doing battle with a geriatric hatchback and more unpleasant rest-stops than he ever wanted to recall, he was exhausted. He just wanted somewhere safe and secure to settle and start again. He sincerely hoped apartment twenty-one of the building in front of him would be that place.

Admittedly, it had looked more impressive on the website. In real life, the structure wasn’t anywhere near as stately or pristine as the images suggested. Here and there small signs of wear and tear marred the weathered exterior, and from front on, instead of the more flattering side angle the apartment rental site had used, the whole thing looked rather squat and dated. But then that was usually how these things worked in his experience—reality was always just a little less bright and sparkling than advertised.

Seconds later, Raven had to amend his cynical thoughts. Above the faded red roof tiles, the sky was a perfect blue. No amount of Internet research prior to making the gruelling drive from Chicago had prepared him for the Southern California sky. Today there wasn’t a cloud to break the pale blue expanse that seemed to go on forever. It was breathtaking.

Finally dragging his eyes away, Raven continued to check out the building and surrounds. While definitely older, it looked solid enough. Along the front, the tall, thin trunks of a row of palm trees were lined up like soldiers guarding the entrance. Their rough, shaggy crowns towering high above cast splotches of shade across the front of the building. Even at ten in the morning, the summer sun was strong and bright. It would be interesting to see what the temperature was like inside. Raven noticed the grass was a vibrant green against the white of the sidewalk. The grounds were obviously well-tended. That was a good sign.

“Is this where we’re going to live now, Daddy?” Ryan, his four-year-old son and reason for making it out of bed each day, asked from the backseat.

“M-maybe.”

“Is there a swimming pool?”

“N-no. Sorry, buddy.”

“Okay.”

The lack of emotion in Ryan’s voice bothered Raven. He suspected most kids would have whined, or commented, or…or something. But Ryan just stared out the window.

The caregiver at the last day care centre Ryan attended up until recently had expressed ‘concerns’ regarding Ryan’s social skills and lack of engagement with others. They’d left Chicago not long after, but the comments troubled Raven more and more. They really needed to make friends or people might start asking questions. Worse still, they might find answers and decide he was an unfit parent and take Ryan away from him and…

“So w-what do you think? Do you l-like it?” he asked, desperately fighting down the spiralling panic attack closing in on him.

“Uh huh.”

“You w-want to see inside?”

As he looked up into the rear-view mirror he saw Ryan nod, but his son’s expression remained unreadable. Swallowing down the lump forming in his throat, Raven struggled against the inner voice that told him once again he sucked as a father.

“Okay. We’re just w-waiting for the property m-manager and we can go have a l-look.”

A fresh wave of fear washed over Raven at the mere thought. His heart began to pound, there was the familiar white-noise-like rush of blood in his ears and his palms started to sweat. He really wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. In fact, he’d give just about anything to get out of it. But it was a necessary evil if he wanted to rent an apartment.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his runaway nerves. Fortunately, with the help of the Internet, he’d narrowed it down to two possibilities—two places they could pretty much move into straightaway. Which was a good thing—they couldn’t afford to waste any more of their money on motels, and two appointments like this were about his limit.

“There’s a playground,” Ryan said.

“M-Maybe there are kids your age h-here.”

He studied Ryan in the mirror, hoping to get more of a response, or at least some idea of what was going on in his son’s head as the little boy continued to stare at the swings, slides, and bright red climbing frame just visible, tucked in against the side of the building. The opportunities to get out and about in Chicago had been few and far between for various reasons. His own fears and difficulties in dealing with other people certainly hadn’t helped. But here in sunny California things would be different. He’d make sure they were. If nothing else, it was a relief to see Ryan taking an interest.

“Do you think you’d like to l-live here?”

“Uh huh.”

It would have been nice to hear more of what Ryan thought of the place, but a vehicle pulling up a few spaces away instantly caught Raven’s attention. A slim woman with blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun got out. Her short black skirt, black tailored jacket and crisp white blouse contrasted painfully with the promise of another beautiful, hot summer day.

She tucked a portfolio under one arm, locked her car with the push of a button and stepped up onto the sidewalk, looking left and right before turning to face the street. Every instinct told Raven this was the property manager he’d been waiting for and he should get out and meet her. But his muscles were locked tight, pinning him in place.

He watched her glance down at her wrist and check her watch. Her expression grew pinched with exasperation before she looked back up and scanned the street again. She looked out of place in the neighbourhood that, while quiet and reasonably neat, was a million miles away from suit-and-tie. It only served to make her look even more intimidating.

Raven gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched white. He knew he had to get out of the car. If he didn’t meet the woman and jump through the final hoops, he wasn’t going to secure a place for them to live. But he couldn’t seem to move.

“Daddy, can we get out?”

With every ounce of courage and determination he possessed, Raven unbuckled his seatbelt. He had the feeling, as long as there were no rats, meth labs or gaping holes in the floor, they’d take this one. He couldn’t face doing this again.

“Sure th-thing, b-buddy. I think that’s the l-lady we’re supposed to m-meet.”

Raven bit back another sigh. It was going to be a really long morning.

Available from Total-E-Bound January 16th, 2012

Find Jade At: www.jadearcher.com

Cowboy Blues by G.A. Hauser

2012-01-16T10:58:00.000-08:00

Blurb for Cowboy Blues

Gay cowboys? Gay rodeos?

Rainbow Rough Riders Rodeo, is a small, newly formed group made up of a diverse selection of gay men who each have their own reasons for wanting to compete in the rodeo challenges and enjoy the fun of the celebration of the wild west.

Follow three couples; Ken Marsh, the forty-one year old founder of the group, his forty-five year old country music singer lover, Lyle Jackson; the two bearded cuddly bears who are the perfect couple, Rob Grafton and Victor Sarita, and the youngest of the bunch, Mike ‘Clint’ Wolcott and the object of his desire, Cheyenne Wheeler.

Six men, three complicated relationships, and all the thrill and hardship that goes with life on the road, moving town to town, riding bareback and enjoying a good hard buck! And that doesn’t even include the rodeo competitions!

Cowboys. The new macho sex symbols, or maybe not ‘new’, maybe just the sexiest men around. But being a cowboy sometimes is a hard road, and even Cowboys get the blues.

Sample Chapter; Cowboy Blues

Clint shook off his hands at the sink and took the bowl. “Thanks, Rob. Always good chow here.”

“That’s because you look so good in chaps, cowboy.” Rob slapped Clint’s rump.

“Yeah!” Clint moaned. “Never get tired of manhandling.”

Cheyenne and Victor exchanged glances, then Cheyenne set out a few bottles of beer on the table for anyone who wanted one.

“Still got some chili left, Rob?” Victor carried his bowl to the stove.

“You know me. I make enough for twenty men and you four eat all of it.” He ladled more food into Victor’s bowl. Victor peered back at the table and noticed Cheyenne and Clint staring at each other as they sat across from each other. “Will you two just fuck already?”

“How do you know we didn’t?” Clint laughed, the beer bottle to his lips.

“Because he knows we didn’t.” Cheyenne chewed his cornbread.

“What kind of man do you like, Shy?” Clint asked, quickly gobbling his food.

Victor sat beside Clint, where he had been when the men came in.

Cheyenne said, “I like all kinds.”

“Yeah? All kinds?” Clint’s blue eyes lit up in excitement.

Victor wondered why these two hadn’t slept together. They certainly danced around each other a lot. Victor knew Cheyenne and Ken created this rodeo group to give gay men a venue for what is considered a very straight, macho sport. Cheyenne worked as a card dealer in Reno when he and Ken met and thought of the idea for a gay rodeo group of their own. Clint was their most recent addition to the group. Though he was young, he was fearless and did most of the rough stock events.

“Men. Not boys.” Cheyenne managed to say it with a straight face.

Clint took a moment to think, having stuffed the chunk of cornbread into his mouth.

Cheyenne drank his beer. Nothing ruffled him.

After Rob fed the cat, he joined the men at the table. “What did I miss?” He placed a bowl of food in front of himself and Victor.

Victor could see beads of sweat on Rob’s bald head from his rushing around and cooking over a hot stove.

Clint said, “I think I was just insulted.”

“Oh?” Rob ate another bite of food.

Victor laughed and began eating his second helping.

“Yeah, Shy said he likes all kinds of men, then made out like I was a little boy.”

“Sweetheart,” Rob said, “You’re twenty. Most boys that age can’t even drink legally.”

“Y’all are not that much older than me.” Clint used the bread to soak up the rest of the chili.

Victor met Rob’s knowing glance.

“We’re all older than you, baby. And you’re young enough to be Victor’s son.”

Clint shrugged, appearing unruffled. “I’m good with it.” Clint stood, taking his bowl to the pot to get another helping.

Victor winked at Rob, who was smiling at the conversation.

When Cheyenne stood, loaded his bowl into the dishwasher and left the room, carrying a beer, Victor could see the disappointment in Clint.

“Ya can’t always get what you want,” Victor whispered to Rob.

“Nope. Ya can’t.” Rob took a bite of cornbread and smiled.

After he finished eating, Clint stood, bringing his bowl to rinse and load into the washer. He looked into the chili pot and found it empty. “I’m still hungry.”

“I made dessert.” Rob stood, helping Clint clean up the stove and wash the pots that were too big to fit into the dishwasher.

“What did ya make?” Clint wiped his hands on a towel.

“Coffee cake.” Rob added soap to the dishwasher and closed the door, starting it. It was full at the moment.

“Yes, please.” Clint looked around for it.

Victor tossed the empty beer bottles into a recycle bin. “He’s got it hidden.” Victor held up a plate covered with aluminum foil.

Rob chuckled but didn’t look, continuing to clean up the kitchen.

“Why don’t you bring some to Ken and Cheyenne?” Victor removed the foil and Clint could already see the cake was sliced up in squares.

“Sure.” Clint waited for Rob to load up a small plate with treats. As he did, Clint picked one up and stuffed it into his mouth.

Victor did the same thing, and then smacked Clint on the bottom as he left the room.

Clint held the plate steady after the slap and met Rob’s eyes. Rob was smiling. “It’s the chaps.”

“I know.” Clint chuckled. “Gay boys and cowboys. Like milk and honey.”

“Yup.” Rob held up another chunk of coffee cake to feed Clint.

Clint liked being the youngest. He was spoiled rotten by these men. He opened his mouth and Rob fed him.

“Now go. Behave yourself.”

“Not likely,” Clint said with his mouth full. He got another pat on the rump from Rob.

He made his way down the hall, eying the cakes, which were coated in cinnamon and sugar crumbles, and to die for. He pressed his ear to the door first, then knocked. “Got something for ya, boss.”

“Come in,” Ken said through the door.

When Clint opened it he spotted Cheyenne on the floor with a stack of paperwork and Ken seated at the computer.

“Rob made cake.”

“What kind?” Ken asked.

“Coffee cake. It’s excellent.”

Ken made room for the plate near his pile of work on the desk. “Thanks, Clint.”

Clint picked up a piece and crouched before Cheyenne. He held it up for him to bite. “You gotta try this.”

Cheyenne met his stare and said, “I’m good.”

“Are ya? I haven’t the pleasure of finding that out yet.” Clint heard Ken’s chair squeak as if he were looking at them. Since Cheyenne didn’t eat the cake, Clint stuffed it in his mouth, staring at Cheyenne while he did.

“The animals all set for the night?” Ken asked.

“Think so. Are they, Shy?” Clint held Cheyenne’s leg and rocked it playfully.

Cheyenne just stared at him silently.

“Go check if you’re not sure, Clint,” Ken said.

“All right, boss.” Clint tried to get a smile out of Cheyenne but it didn’t happen. He stood up, brushed his hands over his leather chaps and thrust his pelvis out slightly, showing off his bulge. When his actions got Cheyenne’s attention, Clint cupped his crotch and gave himself a good squeeze as a tease. He mouthed, ‘You want it.’

Cheyenne’s expression never changed.

Clint smiled at him and left, headed out to the barn. Nothing he loved better than taking care of animals. That and fucking.

He put his boots, hat, and coat on, and heard Rob yell from the kitchen, “Everything all right, hot stuff?”

“Yup.” Clint adjusted his hat and left the house.

Ken ate the cake and looked over at Cheyenne. “Should I tell Clint to cool it?”

“No.” Cheyenne gave Ken a wicked smile.

Ken started laughing and turned back to his computer screen, brushing off his hands. “I love you guys.”

Available now from the GA Hauser Collection, LLC

COWBOY BLUES

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