Monday, September 15, 2014

Story Orgy Monday...There Were Signs, cont'd pt. 7

Happy Story Orgy Monday!

As I was reminded yesterday—yes...yes I do have to return to Pip and Dwight soon...I can only leave them unattended for so long...lol...but darn it, they aren't talking to me and Dorian kinda is and the person who is screaming at me I can't write their book right now...*heads desk*...my noggin is full! :( lmao

So please enjoy Dorian for another week...and who knows what will happen next Monday...lol

This week's prompt:  It was his favorite book.

And now for your reading pleasure…


There Were Signs
pt. 7 (cont'd from 2012)
copyright © 2014 Havan Fellows

Dorian huddled down in the plush upholstered armchair he found in the back corner of the library. He had walked all the way across campus to the smaller, less used library only because he knew Wolfe utilized the larger one near Rigby Hall. Dor wasn't purposely dodging his best friend (and now lover?), he just needed some time to contemplate what the fuck had happened over the weekend. Well, besides the fuck part, that he understood perfectly.
"Little Red Riding Hood? Aren't you a little too old for fairy tales?"
Jumping at least a foot in the chair, Dorian quickly slammed the book closed along with his eyes. Did Justine really have to choose this moment in his life to be a bitch? He didn't even bother correcting her, he was reading the history behind Little Red Riding Hood, not the actual fairy tale.
"Jesus, Jussie, can't you leave a dude alone once in a while?" He looked over at his intruder who managed to sneak up on him in broad daylight. If he had Wolfe's wolf senses that never would've happened.
He groaned to himself over that thought. Really, what the fuck?
"Calm down, no biggie that you're reading a kid's book. It was my favorite book back when I was like four or something." She chortled while plopping onto the loveseat caddy-cornered to him and threw her legs over the armrest.
He stared at the chunky blonde as she smiled at him. He probably wasn't being fair to her. She always meant well, she just had a shitty way of phrasing everything that came out of her mouth, and she'd attached herself to him three years ago when they were freshman at the university.
"You do realize that the first versions of red riding hood weren't so kid-friendly, right?"
"Oh, are you reading the Grimm one?"
Dorian shook his head. "Even that one is nicer than Perrault's version—messier maybe, but oddly nicer. Perrault didn't bother to give us a happy ever after type of ending."
Jussie tilted her head and squinted her eyes, as if concentrating on something. "I don't know Perrault's one. I'm a Brothers Grimm fan myself."
"There's a shocker." Dor mumbled under his breath. Louder, he addressed Jussie. "What's your favorite wolf story?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "Jeez, Dor, I already told you I only read Twilight because my kid sis forced me, and I didn't even like it. When are you gonna give me a break on that one?"
"I'm not razzing about that. Seriously, if I were to question you on wolf lore, what one would you say was more...um...realistic?"
Justine swung her legs around and planted her feet on the ground, leaning forward to peer at him. "Realistic? As in if werewolves existed or something?"
Dorian hoped his shrug was nonchalant enough. "Yeah, you know? Less corny more factual type of stuff."
"Well, I wouldn't look at any of the fluff that's written about them nowadays. I think the whole paranormal movement has been too romanticized. If I ever came across someone who drank blood for sustenance you can bet your ass I wouldn't be looking at his crotch wondering if my blood could give him a stiffy. And no matter how much I may like alpha men I'm not looking for one that can bench press a Volkswagen bug for a Saturday night date. A hairy chest may be sexy but a hairy back sure the hell isn't."
"Well..." Again Dor kept his comment soft and to himself.
"I think Dracula threw vampires into the limelight, but there really isn't an a-ha book like that for werewolves. Not sure which one came first, but it seems that the whole big bad wolf thing is a lot more prevalent in folk lore and fairy tales than the I-want-to-suck-your-blood thing."
Dorian cringed at Jussie's deplorable attempt at an accent.
"Yeah. But that fact makes it almost plausible to believe there may be some truth behind the stories, right?"
"Dor, are you trying to tell me you believe in things going bump in the night?" Jussie's eyebrow arched, adding to the questioning look she gave Dorian. "You do realize tonight is the last night of the full moon. You might want to lock yourself inside if you believe in the baddies, don't they come out and play on the full moon?"
She hopped up and tried to pat his head. Dor easily avoided it considering that's how she ended all of their conversations. "Anyway, I gotta run. As always it is a mindfreak talking to you. Try not to get eaten by any stray werewolves tonight." She laughed as she disappeared down a row of books.
Yeah, he'd try. Problem was, he wanted the werewolf to eat him...


To be cont'd...
.
The fun is never over with just one turn – we are the Story Orgytm remember *big grin* – so head on over to the next pleasure blog and enjoy multiples with us . . .

Em Woods' story: click here
Lee Brazil's story: click here
Hank Edwards' story: click here

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Friday, September 12, 2014

Interview In Process: Love & Punishment @PridePromo @ SusanMacNicol7 #authorinterview #bookcontest


I love when I get to turn the spotlight on an author and *cough cough* grill them good...hehe

Please welcome Susan Mac Nicol to my blog today! She's been kind enough to agree to answering a few questions and giving us some goodies—both in the form of reading material and Rafflecopter!

So let us begin...oh Susan, did I mention this is a round of strip interviewing? *waggles and starts unbuttoning shirt* (and I wonder why no one ever likes visiting? lmao)

Tell us something we don't know about Love and Punishment.
This story was originally written with Flynn as a female. His name was going to be Elaine (which is my middle name by the way, a little bit of useless info for you). I had the whole book written as M/F and then as I wrote my first M/M, Stripped Bare, and saw how that went down, I just knew I didn’t want to write another M/F. So I changed all the work I’d currently produced into being gay male Romance. So Flynn once had a vagina :)

What taboo topics are you skittish about but secretly would love to tackle in a future book?
My taboo topics ? I guess anything with religion would be something I’d tackle, as I’m not in the least religious and have some fairly strong views on the topic. If I had the chance, I might write about something along these lines. However, as much as I’d like to tell people how I feel, I’m respectful of their own beliefs and think that everyone has the right to their opinion. There are caveats on this statement as well, which leads me into my forbidden topic so we’ll just leave it there.

What would your ideal man look like and what characters—if any—have you based on him?
Physically, I’m very into the slim, muscular build, with minimal hair, tight arse and wide shoulders. Hair, eye and skin colour isn’t an issue. I do have a thing for red heads of any sort though. And one of the features I love is eye brows. Strong, clean lines above gorgeous, knowing eyes…now there’s an image to make me want to pounce on a guy. My men have got to have a wicked sense of humour and be intelligent. I’m also into power, not physical but mental and emotional, and this whole combination to me is my ideal man. I think I may have created a few in my books just like this :)

Tell us about the hardest scene in Love and Punishment for you to write and why.
I think the scene that caused me the most angst was the torture scene between Blair and Marshall. It wasn’t the actual physical actions that got me, although my backside did clench in sympathy when Blair did what he did, but rather the rationale itself for that scene. I’m not into gratuitous violence or rape and I did have to think long and hard about what I wanted that scene to portray. It was a testament to Blair’s sociopathic nature, to the fact he’d actually be able to do what he did to a man he’d spent time with. Of course his trademark ‘something stuffed’ in the victim had to come into play and voila! The poor rolling pin got used to some rather nefarious purpose. I also wanted to show the compassion in Anthony towards a man he hardly knew, to give Marshall some dignity and empathy and build the trust in Marshall towards him that would eventually lead to Marshall supporting Anthony in their version of what went down in that room..that’s pivotal to the story line.

Five words to describe Love and Punishment.
Gritty, tender, erotic, controversial and sexy.

About Susan: Susan Mac Nicol was born in Leeds, Yorkshire, in the United Kingdom. At the age of eight, her family moved to Johannesburg, South Africa where she stayed for nearly thirty years before arriving back in the UK in December 2000. Currently, She lives in the rural village of Bocking, in Essex, with her family.

Sue is a PAN (Published Author’s Network) member of Romance Writers of America and a member of the Romantic Novelists Association in the UK. Also, she is a member of a rather unique writing group, called the Talliston Writer’s Circle, which in itself has a story all of its own to tell. She has written nine novels, two novellas and a screenplay since February 2012 and clearly believes in keeping herself busy. She has found herself wanting to stay in the sub-genre that is M/M Romance so more can definitely be expected.

Her plan is to keep writing as long as her muse sits upon her shoulder. Her dream is to make enough money to give up the day job and get that big old house in the English countryside overlooking a river, where she can write all day and continue to indulge her passion for telling stories.
  
Check Susan Mac Nicol out here:
website: www.susanmacnicol.com
blog: susanmacnicol.wordpress.com
facebook: www.facebook.com/susiemax77
twitter: www.twitter.com/SusanMacNicol7
pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/susiemax777/pins/
linkedin: http://uk.linkedin.com/pub/susanmacnicol/48/a44/602
tumblr: http://www.susanmacnicol.com/my-tumblr-blog/

Love & Punishment
Cover Artist: Boroughs Publishing Group
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group


We've got blurbage:
On the search for a serial killer, Detective Anthony Parglietto and Flynn Parker learn that every man must make a choice: to kill, to live, to love.

FROM DARKNESS AND LIGHT

Someone is leaving a trail of bodies throughout London, and Detective Anthony Parglietto is determined to end the violence. Then he’ll return to the man he loves.

Tough, street-savvy, and used to dealing with lowlifes, Flynn Parker is the last person Anthony thinks he has to protect. Then the Bow-Tie Killer strikes close to home and the world turns upside down. Right is wrong, black is white, and a policeman might become a monster. But in the name of love, justice must be served. In the name of love, pain can be endured. In the name of love, a man can taste the very essence that defines him.

Pick Love & Punishment up here: 
www.BoroughsPublishingGroup.com

Excerpt here:
Anthony walked down the hall. He reached the bedroom and gently pushed the door open. He saw Flynn framed in the light of the lamp shining from the lounge. He lay, apparently asleep, on the leather and wood divan Anthony had brought over from Italy. Its dark burgundy colour contrasted with what Flynn wore, which was nothing but a black thong lying stark against his pale skin. The divan was under the window. The bed covers were rumpled, as if Flynn had been sleeping. His robe was draped across the foot of the bed. Anthony moved towards the gleaming body of his supine lover.

Flynn’s face was turned away towards the back of the sofa. His dark hair was tousled and his arms stretched above his head to the right. He wore a blindfold. Anthony felt a stir in his groin seeing those lean, hairy legs stretched out wantonly, inviting him to run his hands up and over his groin. Even appearing asleep, Flynn had the power to excite him, to make Anthony hard and ready. He stepped towards him, watching the rise and fall of Flynn’s chest with their already hardened nubs. Anthony wanted to run his tongue over that chest, with its smattering of fine hair, to take Flynn’s nipples in his mouth and suck them until Flynn groaned in pleasure. As he got closer in the dim light he saw the hands with their bonds of silk. Green bonds lay dark against Flynn’s wrists, fastened to the wooden struts of the upright chair arm. His hands were tight fists. Anthony chuckled softly, a noise that sounded loud in the stillness of the room.

“Been waiting long?’ he whispered as he took off his jacket. ‘I tried to get home as soon as I could.”

Anthony knew the bonds would be loose so Flynn could break free if needed but he also knew he wouldn’t. It was the way the game was played.

Tour Dates
9/12: Havan Fellows, Elisa - My Reviews and Ramblings



And the Rafflecopter is waiting for you...



All of this and so much more comes to you by the sheer amazing force of nature that is...
Pride Promotions

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

I've got a visitor: Idolatry @PridePromo @R_Cohen_writes #guestblog #bookcontest

I love when people come and visit me...I get to dress up in as little clothing as possible and sit back and enjoy the company...

Please welcome Rebecca Cohen to my blog today! She's sharing an exclusive excerpt from her book Idolatry (Reagalos: Book 2 – Sequel to Servitude) and giving us an inside view of how she establishes her characters...

So Rebecca...here is the metaphorical mic, please take us away...

Lornyc and Methian, the two main characters in my Reagalos series, have come a long way from when I first started writing them back in 2004. I chose Lornyc’s name, and that of a number of his Reagalos family members from a list of known Roman names, as I first wrote his story after I had a dream of a black haired slave and a Roman general. However, while the name stuck the rest of the Roman ideas were scrapped and Lornyc didn’t remain a slave and instead became heir apparent to his city of Katraman.

In Servitude, the first in the series, Lornyc is a student living an easy life, albeit with a secret lover, Methian. His life changes dramatically as he ends up in a magical contract serving Methian. During Servitude, Lornyc abandons any hope of returning to his old life as the deaths of his parents means he has to take the throne of High Lord Reagalos. In Idolatry we now see Statesman Lornyc, leader of two of the Five Cities of Rystal Lake. The new responsibilities Lornyc now has  mean he has little choice to but to grow into his role of leader, and develop the political acumen he will need to survive. Lornyc is still a young man and this needs to be reflected in his character. He still makes mistakes, he has a temper and be prone to unreasonable outbursts, but yet he is starting to see that politics is a game that needs to be played, and played very carefully. I deliberately gave Lornyc normal height and slender frame, wanting to contradict the trope of the hero in fantasy stories being the muscular guy. Lornyc’s strength comes from his magic (that is also growing stronger) but also from the unerring support of his now husband, Methian.

Methian is a different character to Lornyc, he too is heir to a city, but has always taken life a lot less seriously than Lornyc. His name come from the Methian tribes of Ireland (c13th), and he is tall, broad, blond and handsome, the typical hero character, but it is Lornyc who rescues Methian in Servitude. He tries to pass himself as an affable, playboy, but Methian is smart, if not a little immature at times. This immaturity comes to a head in Idolatry as Methian obsesses over an ex-lover of Lornyc’s.

By the end of Idolatry, both Lornyc and Methian have changed from their first appearance in Servitude, and there’s still much for both them to learn, about each other, the political games they have to play and how outside influences can push even the loyalist person over the edge.

About Rebecca Cohen: Rebecca Cohen is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of Darjeeling in the other.

Check Rebecca out here:
www.facebook.com/rebecca.cohen.710
www.twitter.com/R_Cohen_writes

Idolatry
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Shobana Apu


We've got blurbage: Upon taking the throne as High Lord of Katraman and Liege of Scura, Lornyc Reagalos’s focus on rebuilding one city and reassuring another leaves little time for his husband, Methian. Added to that, he must contend with is the unexpected revelation that his grandfather, Romanus, set up his own religion and named an enigmatic figure called The One as its deity. Through some twisted interpretation of the signs left by Romanus, the Cerulean Cult comes to believe Lornyc is their god and invites him to sanctify the Cult as part of its five-hundred-year anniversary. During the Sanctification Ceremony, the Cult’s holy relic, an orb given to it by Romanus, is split, releasing an entity that tears a hole in the dimensions. The species that guards the dimensions, the Valen, force Lornyc to fix the breach, or they will have him extinguished.

Pick Idolatry up here: 
ebook: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5404&cPath=55_462

paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5405&cPath=55_462

Exclusive excerpt:
To Lornyc, those who tended to practice religion had signed up to a life of piety, introspection, and humility. But the now rowdy scene in the Orb Temple was nothing like his idea of quiet contemplation and reverence. The crowd was verging on frantic, close to throwing physical blows—each member of the congregation desperate to get the best view of The One and only kept in check by a line of burly-looking priests.

“Brothers and sisters,” called Halm above the noise, “please calm yourselves.”

The lights of the Orb Temple turned onto the crowd at their full intensity. The congregation fell quiet again, trapped under the influence of the glaring lights. Halm started to speak.

“I know you are all excited. Trust me, I understand your enthusiasm. We have waited for The One for so long.” Halm motioned toward Lornyc. “And now he is here.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but Halm clapped his hands firmly, and silence fell as the lights dimmed once more. Halm was caught in a single shaft of light.

“The Holy Profit sent us his Words of Consequence. His words have guided us for centuries, and now he will show us the way to the next era.”

From his pocket he removed a scroll and unwound it. “The Profit’s own words,” Halm declared, holding the scroll aloft and beginning to read: “Unfortunately, I am no longer physically here to guide you all through the period of change that will follow. Everything that occurs from now on will happen for a reason—and it is an important one.

“Vitam vivere ad beatitudinem,” continued Halm, his voice steady and well-practiced. “My followers, I speak to you through words scratched on a dry piece of parchment. I assure you that the time has come to embrace new things. Remember—stercus accidit.”

The Cult’s members repeated Halm’s divine words in a respectful whisper. Lornyc bit his bottom lip to prevent himself laughing at Romanus’s choice of words. His eyes darted to Methian, who was also trying valiantly not to smirk. Unlike the Cult members, they had remembered their childhood Latin lessons.

Halm continued. “I know my teachings are very different from many of the other false prophets and bogus religions, but remember these words when you are called to defend yourself and echo my sentiment, ‘Stulta superstitio tibi nihil curo.’ Never let those who disparage you get you down.”

Halm looked to the crowd and together, as if they all knew what the scroll contained, the congregation muttered as one: “Nihil dicit te amo similis vinum.”

Lornyc groaned in mortification. The whole ceremony was obviously another perverse manifestation of Romanus’s dubious sense of humor.

“The Cult will have followed my teachings. You will have listened to the elders and they will have interpreted my words to guide you. But from today onwards, the Cult has a new leader. Be prepared that he may have very different views on the future of the Cerulean Cult, but he will be what you need in order to flourish and spread your beliefs.”

In Halm’s office Lornyc had read “The Words of Consequence.” But now, in this setting, Lornyc realized that the speech, although mocking in parts, was not directed at his grass-root followers. In fact, Romanus seemed to be trying to bolster their confidence, to make them understand that they would face hurdles due their religious beliefs and it was something they should stand strong against. Lornyc found the ceremony so far more than a little unsettling. After this was over, thousands of people would look to him for spiritual guidance. The irony was not lost on him: the holy atheist.

“Veritas, lumen est,” proclaimed Halm, closing the scroll.

Halm stared around the congregation. “My spiritual siblings, I beseech you to hear and understand our Holy Profit’s words. From this day forth, the Cerulean Cult will change for the better. The One is among us, and he will be our guide on the long path ahead. Do not be fearful. There is no need to be scared. Our future is assured, and—believe me—it is in safe hands.”

Tour Dates
9/10: Havan Fellows
9/11: Love Bytes




And the Rafflecopter is waiting for you!



All of this and so much more comes to you by the sheer amazing force of nature that is...
Pride Promotions

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Crawl Into Bed With Lee Brazil And a Good Book...

On September 6, 2011 Lee Brazil started what would soon become one of the best series of interviews I've ever read—Crawl Into Bed With (insert author's name here) and a Good Book. Over the past three years I'd venture to say Lee's interviewed close to a hundred authors, asking them each the same seven interesting questions and getting such a myriad of different answers in return—and I loved reading every single one of them.

But I thought how unfair...Lee Brazil unselfishly crawls into all of these beds, and does it for us—his loyal readers—to bring us some of the best authors and hopefully some good books for our TBR pile...but never asks for anything in return. Thus, Lee's bed lacks the crawling so willingly given to all the other beds.

Well guess what...I will happily sign up for that task! hehe I will crawl into  bed with Lee Brazil...*winks*

The hard part (well one of them anyway...lol) will be trying to get me out once I'm there. What? I hear there's a very comfortable... um... mattress... *straightens halo* Oh fine *hangs head* I'll try to dial back my stalker status a few notches—but I make no promises!

Let's start with the icing on the cake, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Havan, Havan, Havan! *shakes head* What we have here are one hundred percent cotton sheets in a beige and rust pattern. Go ahead. Climb on up. It’s okay, you can keep your shoes on, the dogs are up here all the time, so … Now hold on there. That’s my pillow. So’s that one. That one too. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Scoot over to the other side and use those pillows. *grumbles* *climbs in bed and adjusts pillows*

*bounces on the bed* I like those pillows *snags a pillow back from Lee and sniffs it* What? Oh...um...soooooo whatcha wearing?
*glares* My pillows are sacred. Hand it over or my lips are sealed. *scowls* A grey long-sleeve t-shirt and sleep pants. Eeyore ones I think, in navy and gray. I know. Fleece pants aren’t really appropriate for the summer heat, but the SO likes to keep the air conditioning on high in here at night, and I usually end up freezing. So, I wear winter pj’s all year round. *covers eyes* Please...put the robe back on. Havan! Put that bag away! This is not that kind of sleep-over.

There are other types of sleepovers? Since when? And come on, the naughty bits are mostly covered...fine *sighs* Whatcha gonna let me snack on in this big comfy bed of yours?
You’re looking for cookies or brownies, aren’t you?
Um...okay we'll go with that...
Sorry. *hands over bowl* Tonight I have popcorn seasoned with ranch dressing.
Well that's a creamy type of mess...I do love the way your mind works when I'm around.
*SMH* No, not from a bottle.
Bottle? Oh...
You just pop it, toss it in olive oil, sprinkle the powder from a dressing packet over it, and then...toss again. Well, most nights I have popcorn. I actually prefer savory snacks to sweet, and sometimes we have crackers and cheese (I’m especially fond of those sweet potato Triscuits) or trail mix.

I promise to be all the sweet you need *bats lashes and giggles* Back to the fun...if I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
 If you open that night stand drawer, you might find a few things you’d rather not see.
That's what I'm talking about! *attempts to climb over Lee to get to drawer*
Not real sure, it's not mine, you see.
*stops* oh?
*Leans over* Oh phew. He cleaned it out. Yes, just as I suspected. Three Zippo lighters, some incense, a bottle of… hm. let’s take that out of there. A screw driver? I don’t know what that’s there for. A duct tape wallet… three pairs of nail clippers, two pairs of reading glasses, two combs. Not a real valuable haul. I’m kind of disappointed. Maybe we should have snooped through his dresser instead of the nightstand.
I'm sorry, was this a one drawer or the other type deal or can we hit up both?

Oooooh...we could add some fun stuff to it and make him really wonder next time he opens it...hehe *grabs bag again and holds it up to Lee* Well...we'll wait on that maybe? *puts bag of goodies back down* So, do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Actually, neither. I like a heavy weight of blankets to cover me from shoulder to toe, and I can’t stand to have them tucked in or anything around me. I don’t kick the blankets off, or roll up in them or anything. And I absolutely hate when someone else disturbs them. *glares* So I hope you brought your own.
Silly Lee, that's what you get for hoping...they're big enough and once I settle in they won't be disturbed...resistance is futile...just saying *winks*
Stop twitching! No pulling! Be still!

Now...can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
No. I however, will be putting my cold feet on you. What? I’m pretty sure it was in the contract.
Oh it is...in bold print on page one, italics on page three and a half and even in fine print at the back in the codicil...I'm all good for it! In fact...I'll get your feet all nice and warm while you start in with the first story.
Fine. But you're still not allowed to move. And did you eat that whole bowl of popcorn already?
*licks evidence off of fingers* um...maybe?

I hear you have a trio of terrific regencies that we are going to partake of tonight...*sighs*
Yep. I love regency romances with two male heroes, and I think it's the perfect era for m/m.
Nothing better than a good sexy regency and big comfy bed and Lee Brazil! *tugs on the blanket and cuddles in close for a fantastic night of wordage*


All about Lee Brazil:
Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it's nevertheless one hundred percent true.

Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.

Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don't belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don't fit?

Then turn the page and see… there you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.

I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now, it's why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it's why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.

If I'd had my way, I'd have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and that's the best thing in the world to be if you ask me, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.

 If I hadn't learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.

If you'd like to stalk Lee also...these are the best places *winks*:
Twitter: @leebrazil


A Gentleman Never Does
Blurb
Short of funds, Gareth proposes to wager for love. Does Gideon dare play out this hand?

Gideon Westwood is passing time at a debutante ball when he encounters a man from his past he'd give anything to avoid.

Unfortunately for him, Gareth Belmain isn't in the mood to be pushed aside.

A wager leads to a walk in the garden and a kiss to angry words.

Will a public challenge put an end to any hope they might have for a future together?

Excerpt
"If you're short of funds, I don't wish to gamble with you for money."

Gareth smirked, painted lips twisting. "Such an honorable man you are. Fine then, if we shall not play for money, then we play for love."

A chill washed over Gideon. He shifted on the delicate chair, fearing it might splinter if he abused it too much. "For love?"

Gareth whispered, "You were used to love me dearly. We could play for that." Gideon's dismay must have shown on his face, and again he cursed his inability to master the stoic boredom society expected of its young men and women.

"Or maybe not. What stakes would you care to play for, my Corinthian friend?"

The sardonic emphasis on Corinthian hurt a bit, as he had no doubt that Gareth intended it to. It angered Gideon that Gareth held such power over him still, to arouse his emotions, his body this way. Instead of answering the question Gareth had asked, he let his hurt and anger have sway. "Why are you without funds? Too many hours of shopping in Bond Street, my dear?"

Gareth's blue eyes flickered and his narrow jaw tightened. Gideon's gaze focused on the tight pinch of his full lips. Those lips had touched his... He bit back a curse as his pantaloons grew uncomfortably tight. "Fuck." The coarse word was a hoarse whisper that he hoped no one else picked up on.

Gareth's tension faded and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "No, dear heart. A gentleman never pays his tailor before his gaming debts. If you must know, I played a little too deep the other night at that new hell, off Curzon street."

The lure of cards had always been impossible for Gareth to resist. They'd often played together at school and through long rainy days at home. So Gideon knew that Gareth might be susceptible to the lure of the cards, but he wasn't a bad player. While losing wasn't unheard of, it was rare. "I can float you a bit till quarter day if you like." Gideon offered.

"Kind of you, but no. If you were inclined to lose to me, that would be one thing. But I am not in need of charity." The cards were snapped down onto the table sharply. "Cut."

Find A Gentleman Never Does here:

Less Than All
Blurb
Nicholas Danville doesn’t trust his lover to share the depth of his attraction.
He knows full well Victor must marry to fulfill his duty to his aristocratic family.

Assuredly marriage will mean the end of their liaison.

A youthful indiscretion leads to a humiliating encounter between Nicholas Danville and Lord Victor Ware. Nicholas is sent home in disgrace, and Victor continues life in the Ton. Years later, Nicholas's reproving parents send him to town to attain a degree of polish before he prepares for life as a member of the clergy.

A chance encounter with an old friend leads to a new confrontation between Nicholas and Victor. This time, the attraction between them burns brighter, Nicholas is old enough to know his own mind, and Victor is done with self-denial.

From ballrooms to gardens and opera houses, Victor sets about proving that a passionate liaison between two men is possible even under the narrow gaze of the Ton.

Excerpt
Peter had evidently taken the time to pull his glossy Hessians back on because Victor had swallowed half the glass before he heard the door click behind him. Lifting the glass to study the amber liquid in the firelight, he spoke without turning around. "I pay you an adequate allowance to cover your own establishment Peter, exactly because I do not wish to find hordes of drunken revelers have invaded my home."

"I'm glad for Peter's sake that you're a generous man, My Lord Ware. But I'd hardly call our little gathering a horde."

Victor whirled about to find Danville lounging in altogether too close a proximity. A single lingering glance impressed upon Victor the slender lithe frame, lovingly outlined by tight buff colored breeches, fine white linen shirt open at the neck. Both his discreetly embroidered waistcoat and his black tailcoat hung open. Danville’s inappropriate dishabille enticed him as the devil tempted sinners. He held up a hand as though to ward off the smaller man, but Danville stepped impossibly closer, and Victor groaned as his blood thrummed and his head swam.

Strong arms wrapped around his neck, tugging his head down, and soft wet lips pressed lightly against his mouth. "I've waited years for this moment, Ware."

Then Victor gave up listening, gave up fighting the response of his body as an agile tongue probed the seam of his lips, seeking entrance. He accepted Nicky's kiss, opened his mouth to suck at the questing tongue. He chased Nicky's tongue for what seemed like ages, his body hardening and heating with lust.

His arms closed around Nicky's slender waist, hauling the man close so he could seek solace for the ache of his prick in grinding against the silk of Nicky's evening breeches. The shattering of his whiskey glass on the hearth broke the mood, and Nicky pulled away, retreating to the door.

"I'm going now." He paused, hand on the doorknob. A strangely earnest expression crossed his face as he tilted his head to glance back at the stunned Victor. "Shall I return? Or do you forbid Peter's friends the run of your home?"

He slipped from the room while Victor struggled to frame a coherent response.

Find Less Than All here:

Randall's Romance
Blurb
When Randall Gretton's father leaves his family behind to seek out his lost love, Randall finds an unexpected sympathy in his father's actions. The dashing soldier takes completely to heart his father's advice to his children, "If you are fortunate enough to find love, then seize it."

Is a chance encounter at a masquerade Randall's chance at lifetime love?

Excerpt
He closed the door behind himself and turned the key in the lock. The book room was lit by a single porcelain candelabrum on the mantel piece. In the flickering candlelight he located Terence at the fireplace, swirling a snifter of brandy in his hand. Terence turned his head, tensing at the sound of the key turning in the lock.

"Never fear. It's just me. I'd about given up hope of finding you; there are so very many highwaymen present tonight. Next time you must choose a more singular disguise." Checking the room carefully for any other entrance, Randall realized Terence had chosen the perfect place for their encounter.

The highwayman glanced back at him, dark eyes glittering through the slits of his long mask. "I'd hate to draw attention." Hi voice was muffled by the mask, but Randall caught the faint foreign accent he aped and rolled his eyes.

Randall felt his blood heat as that hooded gaze traveled down his form. His cock stirred and this time he made no move to hide his interest. "Truth, Terence, attention is to be avoided, but there is something to be said for ease of recognition in these circumstances."

He crossed the Aubusson carpet to stand in front of his lover, drew the man to him. Terence came willingly enough into his embrace, but when Randall tried to raise the man's domino to reveal his features, Terence caught his hand in a gloved grip. "No. Just in case, we must be discreet."

"I did lock the door, you know." Randall buried his face in the fabric and tightened his arms, crushing Terence along his length. The man's costume was a miracle of tailoring, for he seemed to have even added padding to his narrow shoulders and lifts to his boots.

"Yes, but that might not be the only key."

Truly, Terence was more concerned than usual about being recognized! He'd even foregone his normal heavy drenching of spicy oriental scent in favor of a delicate sandalwood cologne that teased at Randall's senses quite delightfully. Reluctantly Randall released his crushing grip on the domino and let his hands slide down Terence's back to cup his taut buttocks through the thin pantaloons. "Very well, then. Come away with me for the night so we can be private."

"I cannot." Hard hands closed on his own buttocks, squeezed them meaningfully. Randall shivered. His cock thickened, his blood stirred. Terence pulled him closer still, so that their groins rested against one another. A few thin layers of fabric separated them, but the heat was as unmistakable as the thick ridge his prick rubbed against.

"But I leave tomorrow, I told you as much." Randall protested, grinding into the sweet pressure on his prick. "Never mind. If this is all the moment we have, then I want more than this." He wedged his hands in between their bodies, enjoyed Terence's gasp when he squeezed the man's prick through his pantaloons, and began working their garments open.

"You're very bold tonight." The breathless statement was followed by a swift, muttered curse as Randall caught their pricks in his hand and stroked them together.

"I?" Randall leaned into Terence and bit the man's ear lobe sharply. "I suggested we meet in the usual place, secure and behind closed doors. You were the one who had a hankering for challenging the ton. Is it turning you on, making you hot to think that just a few feet away the others are dancing and drinking and making merry?"

"Damn you, harder!" Terence's hand closed over his and Randall shuddered as the grip tightened, the rhythm roughened. He stared down between them, to where their hands slid up and down, squeezing drops of clear liquid from each prick that mingled and streamed down to slick the path of their movements. Terence's hand on his cock was more erotic than ever, and maybe it was the thought of being caught out, of the scandal that lurked, but his body was tensing, and beads of perspiration formed. He threw back his head, slipped his free hand down the back of Terence's pantaloons and into his small clothes. Terence trembled against him, Randall soothed him with a whispered word, cupped his buttock, and let his fingers trail along the crease of the man's arse.

"Have a care...we can't do that here."

"I am aware," he chuckled dryly, catching his breath. His fingers brushed over the puckered hole, Terence shuddered, his cock stiffening still further, the skin stretched so tight and fine Randal could swear he felt the man's heart beat in the blood that swelled his organ.

"Damnation...so very good." Terence was bucking into his grip, losing his rhythm. Randal rubbed the hole, pressed the very tip of his finger inside, and let the exultation flood him as Terence's seed spilled along his cock, in jet after jet.

"That's right." He murmured. "Give me your pleasure." He milked the softening cock of every last drop of seed, then wiped them both off with his handkerchief.

His cock throbbed with want, and he smiled at the man he'd come to realize was most decidedly not Terence. "At this point, Terence would drop to his knees and suck me. Are you of a like mind?"

"So you've realized I'm not your friend, have you?" The strange highwayman tucked himself away and refastened his pantaloons. "What happens now?"

"Now, I'm still in need of release, and you are a likeminded fellow it seems. If you cannot bring yourself to suck me, then your hand will do as well."

The black domino muted the man's laughter, but he obligingly dropped to his knees on the plush carpet and with a little deft maneuvering of his mask and Randall's cock, had him encased in wet heat and strong suction within moments.

Randall sighed and let his hands rest on the velvet of the mask, ordinarily he'd have twined his fingers in his lover's hair, to give his hands something to do. Idle hands are the devil's work his mother used to say, but then again...so was this sodomy. "You're very good at this," he sighed, sinking deeply into the wet mouth, enjoying the light scrape of teeth. His blood surged, an agile tongue toyed with the tip of his cock on each retreat, swirling and sucking, drawing rushes of pleasure from him as his body tensed, thighs stiffening. Heat pooled and exploded, and with it his seed pulsed into the receptive mouth.

Find Randall's Romance here:
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Tour Dates/Stops:
9/9: Havan Fellows, Parker Williams



Now I know that I'm under this big snuggly blanket with Lee and well...there are plenty of goodies here with me—in my bag, not under the blanket! Well, okay, there too but...um...I promised to behave darn it!—so let's get a good Rafflecopter bit of fun going on... :)




Oh...and don't forget to thank Pride Promotions for giving me yet another occasion that I get to manhandle Lee...yes, I know, I never truly need a reason to um...you know what, let's just leave it as a huge thank you to Pride Promotions! They are the bestest! :)