It's Raining Men

The Gay Rights Struggle in Russia - Outlawing Even a Whisper

2012-02-24T03:22:00.000-06:00

I know we talk a lot about marriage equality on this blog - and it's something I believe in with all my heart. But we have made great strides in this country with GLBT rights. There are countries where being gay is punishable by death. We're not talking about gay-bashing, we're talking about legal execution. And now Russia...

Next week, St. Petersburg could well pass legislation that will outlaw the mere mention of anything considered "gay". It would become criminal to speak, write, read or meet about anything pertaining to GLBT subjects. You could be arrested for reading the wrong newspaper.

This is the height of absurdity for a city that likes to think of itself as "International" and a cultural center. Their most famous native son, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, was gay after all. Does this mean you could no longer listen to his music? No Swan Lake? No Sleeping Beauty? No 1812 Overture?

This is madness.

The activist group All Out has a petition started to let the governing body of St, Petersburg know that the international community does not support this abhorrent legislation and will boycott the city as a destination if the law passes.

Take a moment to sign it. Equality must be global

www.allout.org/stpetersburg-dont-go

Author Spotlight Deanna Wadsworth

2012-02-23T14:17:00.000-06:00

Please enjoy this spotlight with my fave reader Sheila G and author Deanna Wadsworth

http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com/2012/02/author-spotlight-deanna-wadsworth.html

Saturday Spotlight - Remmy Duchene

2012-02-22T06:00:00.000-06:00

Good morning IRM. Today's Sat Spotlight is on Remmy Duchene!

Hey! Remmy Duchene here - It’s awesome being able to take over again...Thanks for having me. I thought I would do something a little different.

_______________________

Welcome once again to another episode of Night Air. I'm your dirty little secret Logan and this is WLUV radio. What happens when your most secret desires is tempted? What happens when those deep, dark yearnings have a chance to come to the surface? Would you run away or would you stick around and indulge? You have to be fierce about it, get up and go with it, get down and dirty with it--otherwise what's the point?

Are you with a lover tonight? You may want to find one in the next three minutes--because your letters have got me hot and bothered. Here's Janet Jackson, I get Lonely on WLUV.

_____________________

___________________________

Have you gotten someone yet? Yes? Then perfect. Now I get to reach into the email inbox here, and pull out the first story. Alright, let me see now--our first ever letter is from an Anonymous writer. He wish to be call Caine. The letter goes as follows.

Hello Night Air, Hello Logan. This is new for me--but I have to tell someone what I have done. It's not that I am overtly proud of it all, but I have to get it out of my system. At the age of eighteen, as if life wasn't complicated enough, I had to come to the realisation that I was gay. I mean I've experimented with women all my life but suddenly I just couldn't be with one. They are beautiful creatures but a man--there is just something so breath-taking about the hard, tone muscles of a man. I couldn't tell anyone what I was feeling. How could I? My father was the town's pastor, an upstanding citizen in town. My mother was a teacher and my brother was All american Jock. There was no way I could tell them because what I craved was something they could never understand. If I could barely understand it, how could they?

My first time with a man came the night after my eighteenth birthday. I was alone and just--not fitting in so I wandered away from our small town into the city on our borders. I roamed the streets, not altogether sure what I was looking for until I was invited by a bunch of guys into a club. The moment I stepped in I knew I was so out of my depths. It was as though someone had pulled me from the comfort of my mother's arms and tossed me into the deep end of the pool and I couldn't swim. The music was loud, the air was smokey for they were still allowed to smoke indoors then. I couldn't see much of anything but one of them was holding my hand, pulling me along. Someone asked if I wanted to dance and I frowned telling him I didn't even know his name. "Jeff," he said. "My name is Jeff."

Nodding, I allowed him to pull me into his arms. A sigh escaped my body as my neck seem to lose all strength. I slumped against him, resting my head against his chest as my eyes drifted shut. He smelled like my piece of the forbidden fruit and I didn't want to get away. I held onto him, allowing him to rock me to the soft sounds of what song I can't remember. I simply remembered everyone else disappeared leaving the sweet smell of his breath against my nose and the hardness of his body pressing into me. I was aroused--I poked him against the thigh and I was horrified. I tried pulling away then but he wouldn't let me go.

"I would be your first, wouldn't I?" he asked, softly against my ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
"Don't lie to yourself. I know I turn you hon."

I couldn't think straight. Dragging my body from him, I staggered my way through the crowed until I slumped heavily against the bar. The bartender walked to me and leant in. I wasn't sure what I wanted to drink but I knew what my body wanted to do to Jeff. I ordered a guiness though I was under age to drink and chugged half the bottle before Jeff reached me.

We have to take a break for some music. Here's Robyn and Dancing On My own.

______________________________________

He said nothing to me--simply took my hand and led from the loud confusion of the club. The bathroom door clanged shut just before the stall door slammed behind us. He pushed me against the wall, and while he held me to it with one hand braced against my chest, his other was busy unzipping me. When I grunted, he smiled and slipped down my body. Jeff crabbed my cock and even as he knelt before me I knew what he was going to do. Fear clutched my insides but not enough to freak--not yet. I wanted to feel what it was like to be tasted and savoured on someone's tongue.

He licked at me first before looking up into my eyes. I nodded, licked my lips and gripped the back of his head. I pushed his head forward until I was sliding deeper and deeper into his throat with my head pressed against the stall's wall. I was sorrounded by hot, wetness that I needed. A shiver danced through him as his throat squeezed he harder, trapping me in a silent scream.

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Delirium charged through me. I was groaning, shoving my hips forward and swearing, I was halfway to heaven. There was no better way to describe what I was feeling at that moment. He stood then...reaching into his back pocket while pinching my nipple through my shirt. I groaned, my body writhed in a kind of pleasure that threatened to knock me out. I loved it so much a smile spread crossmy face. He pinched, tugged, twisted it while whispered the nastiest words in my ear I'd ever heard. The sad part of it all was I enjoyed them, I enjoyed them so much I exploded all over the front of his pants, panting with my chest heaving. I pressed my eyes closed wondering who mad he was going to be but his laughter caused me to glare at him.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"You, are a virgin," he chuckled. "Which means, this is going to be a treat for you."

I frowned. "You're not going to fuck me."

"Who said anything about me fucking you?" He asked, giving my nipple one last twist. I groaned his name wanting more but he turned away from him, stuffing something into my hand. He stripped his pants off, pushing them down to his ankles, bracing his chest into the opposite wall and spreading his cheeks for me. He did not have to say anything. I knew what to do. Ripping the condom packet open, I dressed myself in the lubricated condom, aimed my dick for his hole and pushed forward.

The floodgate burst open. I clutched his hips, braced my feet securly against the ground and slammed my hips forward. Over and over I plunged into him, drilling forward, grunting. I wanted so much more--to go so much deeper. Leaning in, I opened my mouth sinking my teeth into Jeff's shoulder. He growled, reaching back and slapping my thigh.

I pulled from him and smiled as he turned around, held me into the wall and bit my ear. I laughed. "Frustrated Jeff?" I asked cheekily.

"Don't talk--fuck me," he demanded. "Make me cum."

Gladly, I obliged him. I drilled him good and hard, over and over. I watched him banged his fist into the stall's wall not caring if we were alone or not. With the desire charging through me, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I didn't care either. When he reached back and sunk his fingers into my thighs, I knew something had to give. Biting my lips, I waited, held my breath and waited.

I felt it the moment he started cuming. His hold grabbed my cock, held on and squeezed, milking me of ever drop of juice I had.

With his chest heaving, he eased off my abused dick, kissed my nose and pulled his clothes back in place. He then opened the stall and walked out, leaving me there sitting weakly on the toilet seat, desperately trying to recall how to breathe.

I still haven't told my parents what I am. I still can't seem to find Jeff again. What does that make me?

That, dear Caine, makes you human. It makes you remember that you were once young and that your body crave the fires of lust just like everyone else. Gay or not, you shouldn't deny yourself such raw, pleasure. That's all we have time for tonight my lovers.

I am Logan and this was WLUV radio...Can you keep a secret?

“My Dark Mystery Stud” - Chapter Three

2012-02-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

“My Dark Mystery Stud”

http://rainingmenamen.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-dark-mystery-stud-chapter-one.html

Chapter Two:

http://rainingmenamen.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-dark-mystery-stud-chapter-two.html?zx=1cc519616921f435

Chapter Three

Assuming that I’d never see that dark-skinned hairy soccer player ever again, I’d vowed on Tuesday night to forget him.

*~*~*

I was wrong. Early on Thursday morning, as I was walking Milo past the basketball courts, he was playing against three young black men who I knew. Marcus and Paul, were brothers who lived in my building, and who I’d known since they were born; in fact, I knew their mother and uncle since they were teenagers when the family had been the first black family to move into our building about 25 years earlier. Only the gay guys in our building were welcoming to the black family at first, so they quickly overcame their prejudices and stereotypes about us, especially when none of us made any kind of sexual advances on their admittedly beautiful son, who was working his ass off to qualify for admission to West Point. (A decorated officer, Paul is now an instructor up there, expecting his second child.) Now the daughter lived in the apartment with her sons and her mother, having divorced their father when she realized that he might be a middle-class, well educated black man, but he was still a major, cheating asshole.

The third player was a friend of theirs, Larry, who lived around the corner and who I had known since he was about ten. Much as they tried to look like “tough thugs” when “hanging with the homeboys”, they were actually very nice kids. All three viewed me more as a spare uncle; coming to me to talk about problems they were uncomfortable talking to their parents about. I helped them with writing assignments, being a professional writer. I had talked to them about sexual issues, including Marcus’ growing realization at 17 that he might be gay. I had NEVER seen them play hoops with an adult before, other than with their fathers and Uncle Paul. The mystery man was making baskets all over these kids who dreamed of becoming pro-basketball stars, already being stars on the local high school basketball team.

I stopped to stare at “my mystery stud”. Once more, the ball rolled to my feet. He ran up and gave me that heart stopping, hard-on producing grin when he saw me. “Hello there, again. How are you doing? And hello to you, too, Miss Milo.” She had begun to bark, taking playful poses at someone she’d already identified as a friend. Up close I noticed two things. He had very unusual dark gray eyes, with a slight blue tinge, and he really needed a shave, which just made him all that much more hotter. He also had the tiniest little cleft in his chin. Oh, how I longed to run my tongue over the roughness of that sweaty chin! And my favorite piece of foreplay in the world was a hot man with a great mustache who needed a shave eating my ass. I also observed that the crotch of his tight cut-off shorts was very well-packed; the man had to hung like a stallion!

I saw him glance at my cane, an eyebrow cocked. (It collapses, so I’d had it folded when I was sitting on the bench.) Then he gave my entire body a look over, appearing to like what he saw, although I’m no athlete. I look like the biker I was before the accident; a bit chunky, but unmistakably a man who could take care of himself when trouble came to him. When his eyes returned to my bearded face, his grin was even wider. I returned his greeting, but before I could try to introduce ourselves, Larry called out to him. “Hey, old man. You can talk to that old fart on your own fucking time. We gotta go to fucking school soon. Move you fucking ass, man! We want to finish the fucking game.” Grinning at them, I gave them the finger, which they returned with the same grin as he turned and threw the ball back. They must admire this guy and know him fairly well. None of these young men would ever curse at strange adults. All of them college bound on academic merit, they usually save that kind of language for “the homies”. Milo, needing to do her “business”, began to pull me away, so I was off with a wave, praying that the game would still be on when we returned. But five minutes later, all four of them were gone.

*~*~*

I considered calling Mike, but two booty calls in such a short time might look like I was trying to establish a relationship with him, which I was not. Hot as he was, I liked my men older and able to stand up to me. I’m basically a top, but I knew that I could only be in an ongoing relationship with a man who is my equal. I’ve actually had “slaves”, but never considered that a relationship, as close as we got. I never felt they were strong enough to risk opening up the secret corners of my soul.

I’d gotten the impression from his admiring looks that he WAS interested in me. Was this man one of those macho men who just wanted a blowjob, or a hot ass? At this point, he had me so hot that I’d be willing to service him that way, but I’d be very disappointed. I’d be equally disappointed if he begged me to handcuff him to the bed posts and fuck him raw after spanking him red. I’d have fun doing it, but I’d be disappointed. I wanted more than just hot sex with this stud.

I’d exchanged less than a dozen words with the man; I didn’t even know his fucking NAME, but I here I was, was imagining a future with him. I guess that’s the result of the primary job requirements for being a writer, as well as one of the dangers; a vivid imagination. Shit, I didn’t usually fall in love with a guy until long after the other man was obviously in love with me. I couldn’t be falling in love with a man who I’d only seen twice and whose name I didn’t know! Could I?

I decided there are some times a man just has to take matters into his own hands, literally and figuratively. For the latter, I decided that I would not let “my mystery stud” escape me before we introduced ourselves the next time we met. For the literal part: hell, I’ve been jerking off since I was 13. I preferred a partner, but I’d been almost as slow at Mike at coming out, having wasted some years mostly on women with some guilty hook ups with guys when drunk. I had learned to use that vivid imagination that served me so well as an author to get myself off. Hell, just before I finally admitted to myself that I was gay, the only way I could cum with a woman was to imagine that I was having sex with a guy.

While recovering from my accident, I had very few opportunities for action, having been dumped by my boyfriend a few months before getting hit by a drunken asshole in a stolen car while standing on the curb. Other than a cute gay home attendant who saw my “toychest” open and my porn laying out on the bed one day, and offered to give me some “personal service”, my left hand would have been my only companion. (For some unknown reason, although I’m a righty, there are two things I do left handed - use a computer mouse and jerk off.) Jose was not exactly any of my “types”, but he was an eager and willing mouth and ass who was also gentle with my injuries and at the same time, let me be as rough as I wanted to be with his beautiful body, realizing that I had a lot of rage at the fucking drunk driver who’d almost killed me.

Jose had no illusions about our relationship; as far as he was concerned, the sex we had, always after he called in off duty, was part of the personal care he was providing for me, just like the sponge baths. He told me that at times he offered single straight clients hand jobs when they popped a boner during one of his fantastic sponge baths. Most of them turned him down the first one or two times, and then begged him for one the next time. A few, realizing that a straight Latino home attendant would never offer a handjob, went as far as to ask him if gave blowjobs, which he gladly provided. He even let the really hot ones fuck his eager ass when they were strong enough.

*~*~*

Most of my apartment, where I had lived since graduating from college, consists by now of custom made furniture and other customizations. Alex, the first male lover to move in with me, 20 years before, was a sound engineer who introduced me to “beginner’s rougher sex”, as well as to group sex. My corner apartment on the top floor shares only one wall with another apartment. Alex had noticed how I had books in makeshift shelving all over. He soundproofed the entire common wall with insulation, then had a friend custom build a set of floor to ceiling bookshelves to cover the insulation, the books adding more soundproofing. Alex and I also did a soundproofing job on all the floors except the kitchen, foyer and bathroom, so that the other floors, with the thick carpeting that covers it, requires a step up now into those rooms that the is almost unnoticeable, thanks to the 11’ ceilings of my art-deco period building.

I had designed my bed ten years ago, which was built by a buddy who is a great carpenter and an ex-boyfriend. The king sized bed at first looks like a somewhat “western” themed four-poster. The uprights at the corners are heavy beams crafted to look like hand-hewn wood which are joined to four similar beams to make the sides of the top - which is mirrored, but with a black curtain which I can pull across in a slot if I don’t feel like looking at myself alone in the bed. The mattress appears to be supported by similar beams. The headboard is shaped like a half of a wagon wheel, and there is a wide, hand hewn shelf above it, attached to the uprights. The bed is a bit higher than average, making it great for fucking an ass from the side, also giving me storage space underneath. I was grateful for those long legs after my accident, when I needed the help to get out of bed.

I have two end tables. The first, my daily nightstand, is nearest the door. It has a drawer for daily needs, shelves for the books and magazines I might want and a shelf for my clock radio and landline phone, with a space to put in remote controls for the electronics in the room and a space to plug in rechargers for my cellphone, etc.

There was a stained glass lamp on top, it’s partner is on the other nightstand,
which has some narrow drawers next to the bed to hold small items like poppers, handcuffs, tubes of lube and titclamps. The top next to it opens to my toychest, where I store my larger, heavy duty sex toys. There are a few drawers underneath it for porn magazines and DVDs. Both nightstands have large ashtrays built in, glass inside hammered copper basses. A sign of how attractive I found Mystery Stud, and how much I wanted to develop a future with him was that I was willing to give up the stogies I’d been smoking since college if he was a non-smoker and objected.

I rarely use my sex-toys except with partners who want them, but I always let new playmates know that they’re there if I hadn’t met them in a leather bar or talked to them about rough sex before they came home with me. Often, I just leave some of the drawers slightly open to let them see some of the smaller toys as they climb into bed on that side. (There’s a place for guests to hang up their clothing on that side.)

The toy-chest had been open when I got home from my encounter with “my mystery man” and the teens, since I had used some of them on Mike, who had asked me to teach him about rougher sex, having liked the few slightly rough things we had already done. Ever since I had first seen the dark skinned stranger, my ass had been pulsing and itching - not a common thing for me since I had decided that I was a top when I was 35.

I looked at the toys across the bed as I stripped, finally walking to the guest side of the bed. There was a pile of used rubbers in the ashtray from my encounter with Mike, which I tossed in a trash bag. Taking out a plastic box with a number of smaller dildos and butt plugs, I placed it on the nightstand. I fired up one of my stogies. Ever since I was introduced to cigar-sex by my first bottom, who loved to suck me and ride my cock while I smoked one, one arm behind my head on the pillows, they had been a part of my sexplay, and really part of my solo sexplay. With the drawer open, I noticed some not too light tit-clamps. Sometimes I put them on when putting a pair on a novice, but other than that, I rarely used them on myself, but without thinking, I clipped them on my already stimulated nipples. Exhaling a loud moan, I picked up the bullet-shaped sniffer for poppers without thinking, taking a deep snort. I usually just keep them for guests, but this morning I wanted to really have a great sex experience.

I considered a porn DVD, but decided that the images of my dark mystery stud in my head were porn enough. I grabbed the smallest dildo, since the largest thing that had been in my ass in a year had been my doctor’s finger for about three seconds, and I gritted my teeth when he did it (and he’s a cute little fucker - but straight as an arrow!) I lay down, stogie between my teeth, my cut 9” cock drooling precum like I was sixteen again.

Spreading my legs, I greased up the dildo, and was surprised with the ease with which it slid in - my tight ass practically ate the fucking thing! After a few minutes, I skipped two sizes, and finally felt some real stimulation in my hot fucking ass. I lay there puffing on the cigar as I pulled on the chain of the tit clamps with one hand and fucked my ass with the other, watching my cock jump around, spewing precum all over my hairy body. I decided to do to myself what I’ve been doing to bottoms like Mike since AIDS had become a reality in my sex life: I rolled a non-lubricated rubber on my dick to catch my load and drink it later, pretending it was Mystery Stud’s ball-juices.

After ten minutes of that, I remembered the vibrator I’d used on Mike when he was sucking that last load that I spewed on his body. It was a bit bigger than the dildo in my hungry ass, and I’d be able to jerk off. The cigar was gone, but I always limited myself to one a session. I took out the vibrator, and just slid it in after removing the dildo and switching it on “high”. Man, that was it! I felt it on my assnut right away. Pulling down my legs as I pulled on the chain with my right hand, I wrapped my left around my pulsing dick for a slow jerk off. Every so often, I’d stop for some poppers to enhance the feeling of the vibrator on my assnut, and the pleasure/pain in my nipples. I came much faster than I wanted to, watching myself with fascination in the mirror. I had never done this before. I lapped up my bigger than average load from my rubber, lost in the fantasy that it was HIS load.

I ended up doing it three more times that day, eventually having to put those little circular band-aids no one ever knows what to do with over my sore nipples in order to wear a shirt when I went shopping between sessions!

OK. I had to admit it. If I wasn’t half in love with the fucking beautiful man, I was definitely totally under his spell. I’d even give up rough sex for him, if I couldn’t convert him. I don’t know why I was assuming he wasn’t into dominance sex. He looked lime he was built for it.

*~*~*

Meanwhile. I had a living to earn, and a deadline the next day: I had to create a treatment for a new novel for a series of young adult (translation: teen) novels which I wrote under a pen name about various problems faced by early adolescence. I decided to use my situation to my advantage. It was summer vacation in Novel-land. One of my stock characters, a young lady who had not “starred” yet in a novel, becomes aware of a handsome young man about her age who has just moved in across the street. He looks very different from all her friends, exotic even, and although she is not at all unattractive, she is afraid to approach him to meet him. Sound familiar?

That’s as far as I got before round three with the vibrator. After that, I just took Milo for an early walk, my eyes open for the mystery man. He didn’t appear, so I went to bed. I got up earlier than usual the next morning to work on the story, and took Milo for a long walk, hoping that my mystery stud would be playing basketball again. Not even my teenaged friends were around, so I couldn’t ask them about him. Reluctant to let them know how desperate I was to meet the man, I decided that if I didn’t find him by Monday, I’d ask them for more information.

So I went home for an early morning session with my toys. After two hours of jerking off with the vibrator in my ass, I decided to finish off by leaving the smallest butt plug I owned in my ass. Since I was obviously ready (who was I kidding? Eager!) to have such a big man fuck me, I‘d better be ready and stretched for a big fucking dick.

*~*~*

Next month: the studs finally meet, and the sparks fly. Remember - this is a paranormal romance, and it starts then.

Artwork by Mikesbliss - http://www.mikesbliss.com/

Riptide Post - Few Are Chosen Storm Grant CONTEST

2012-02-20T06:00:00.000-06:00

Good morning! Welcome to IRM.

Here we go with another post from fab new pub, Riptide. This time, well renowned author, Storm Grant. Please give her your undivided attention,

Buy link: http://riptidepublishing.com/titles/few-are-chosen

Be careful what you Google and also pee not on electrified fences

In my second novel, SHIFT HAPPENS, I wrote a scene in which a character tosses a rock at an electrified fence to make sure it's been turned off. "Nuh-uh" says my beta. "Doesn't work that way." (How the heck does she know this stuff?)

So back to the research mines I go. I recalled having heard some apocryphal tale of people peeing on electrified fences and thought that would fit great with the tone of the story. (What? What? It’s that kind of story.)

So off I go to google and... Ewwww! There should be a warning before you click on a link that takes you to a close-up picture of a charred and blackened penis! Yes, dear readers. That is what happens if you pee on an electrified fence. Remember that next time you're mad at your boyfriend and wandering around a military enclosure or some such. "Hey, honey. Let's see what happens if..."

No, no. Just kidding. Don’t actually let him do that!

I ended up finding info about touching a plastic-handled knife blade to two different bits of the metal fencing to get an arc, writing the whole scene, liking it, and then cutting it completely. I mean, why have them climb the fence you can blow the whole thing flat with a grenade? What was I thinking?

But still, there's a lesson to be learned here about googling penises. Or something.

Actually, the lesson is about world-building. And how it’s very important to ground a story with paranormal elements in the real world.

My latest book from Riptide Publishing, FEW ARE CHOSEN, is the story of a young man who’s led a protected life in our modern world. Some things he’s been exposed to, and some he hasn’t. For instance, he’s watched many, many times, The Lord of the Rings extended-edition box set special director’s cut in Blu-ray, but has never been kissed. He goes up against a demon in a cemetery… in downtown Detroit. The demon is using a portal from Hell to Earth because he’s out of beer. It’s a fine balance between normal and paranormal that makes a contemporary fantasy work. And screwing with that balance can make it comic.

Think of the scene in Buffy where she takes out an “undefeatable” demon with a rocket launcher in the middle of a mall food court. Now that? Is my inspiration.

I hope I’ve captured that balance of real and surreal, normal and paranormal in my latest stories, FEW ARE CHOSEN: Can there be a Chosen Two? And SUCKS & BLOWS, the epic (but short!) love story of a vampire and his dentist. If you like a cheeky story with laughs, love and plot twists, check these out at Riptide Publishing.

Storm Grant (also writing as Gina X. Grant)

Email / Website / Blog / Twitter / Facebook / Goodreads

---------------

BLURB:

FEW ARE CHOSEN by Storm Grant

Sparks fly between virgin teenage demon hunters when the Chosen One turns out to be… the Chosen Two?

Apprentice warrior Blake St. Blake is the Chosen One, raised by an ancient order to defend the world against evil. Well, maybe not the whole world, but at least his neighborhood in downtown Detroit.

When a dreaded reflux demon is sighted in a local cemetery, Blake is sent off to his very first battle, armed with his sword, his super-senses, his black leather duster, and a few well-rehearsed one-liners.

But another Chosen One gets in Blake’s way—an apprentice wizard named Shadow. While the boys argue about who’s the more chosen of the two, the demon escapes.

Blake wants to be angry, but it turns out he and Shadow have a lot in common. Besides, Shadow’s pretty cute, and Blake can’t help but think that the wizard’s skills (and hands and lips and other bits) might make the perfect complement to his. Blake and Shadow are brave enough to challenge the reflux demon in a second battle, but will they have the courage to tell each other how they feel?

Title Details

Publisher: Riptide Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-937551-22-3

eBook release: Feb 20 2012

eBook formats: pdf, mobi, html, epub

Word count: ~12,000

Page count: ~40

Heat Wave: On-screen, mildly explicit love scenes

Type: Standalone

eBook $2.99

* * * *

Contest:

Play The Name Game for FEW IS CHOSEN and win a copy of ALL THREE of these entertaining books from Storm Grant’s backlist: Gym Dandy, Shift Happens, and Tart and Soul. (Two full-length novels and a novella!)

1. What is Shadow’s real first name? ___ ___ ___ ___

2. What is Shadow’s mentor’s first name? ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

3. What is the name of the Order that raised and trained Blake? The Order of the ___ ___ ___ ___

How to enter: DO NOT POST YOUR ANSWERS! Instead, to qualify:

1. Email your answers to the three questions, above, to storm.grant@gmail.com.

2. Then post a comment to this blog stating that you’ve emailed your entry.

You may enter once for each stop on the blog tour, thereby increasing your chances of being the grand prize winner!

One grand prize winner will be selected March 5^th.

Blog tour, details here.

Forensics 201 (6)

2012-02-19T00:14:00.000-06:00

Niles briefly considered just turning tail anddisappearing into the trees. Only the fact that he knew his father could easilyfollow his trail in the deep snow kept him from doing that.

Shielding his eyes so thathe could see him, Nilessaid, "So what's suddenly so important that you had Gavin drag me up here?And why the hell are you driving a cop car?"

"Because I'm back todoing what I used to do well, before I blew it."

Niles frowned. "You're a cop again?"

"A detective on theJudicial District homicide task force. You met my partner this morning."Marks smiled slightly. "I pulled some strings, called in a couple ofmarkers, and then asked Detective Langston if he'd back me. He did, albeitreluctantly. I suspect it was more for your sake that his having any faith inme. Anyway there was an opening here and I grabbed it."

"And wrangled Gavininto bringing me up here." Nilesfrown deepened. "How did you manage that?"

Before answering Marksreached into the car and turned off the spotlight. "We don't need this, Ihope. And to answer your question I convinced him if he got you up here so wecould at least talk then I'd do my best to be a decent father to you, if you'lllet me."

Niles moved closer to the car and his father, wrapping hisarms around himself to ward off the cold. "Honestly, I don't trust you anyfurther than I can throw you. You walked out of my life twice. What's going tostop you from doing that again?"

Marks nodded to the car."Get in before you freeze your ass off, Niles."

"Only if you answer myquestion."

"After you're in thereI will." Marks folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Reluctantly Niles walked around the car to the passengerside and got in. Marks slid into the driver's seat then turned the heater upfull blast.

"Thanks," Niles said, not lookingat his father as he held his hands in front of the heating vents.

Marks leaned back, studyingat his son intently until Nilesfinally turned to look at him.

"Well?"

"I'm done with running,Niles. I'vebeen doing it too long. First away from the mess I made of things, and then totry and stop a killer."

"And then fromme," Nilesadded bitterly.

Marks gave a sharp shake ofhis head. "Not away from you; away from my fears. I've never done right byyou, I wasn't certain I could, not then. I'm not all that certain I can now,I'm way out of practice at being a father. But damn it I want to try Niles."

Looking at him Niles said caustically,"A card on my birthday if you remember, maybe a gift at Christmas, thoughtyou don't know me well enough to know what to choose."

Marks nodded, acknowledginghis feelings if not his words. "I know more about you than you think. Iknow you moved from Richmond to New Orleans to get away from an abusiverelationship. I know you have a good friend who seems to think the world ofyou. If you were straight I have a feeling you and Bessie would be a couple. Iknow you've got a mind like a steel trap when it comes to your studies and thatyou'll make a good forensics scientist and CSI once you get your degree. I'mfairly certain you're in love with Gavin for what he is, not as a replacementfor the father who hasn't been in your life."

Marks held up a hand to stopNiles impendingoutburst at that last statement. "There's no other way to phrase that.He's twice your age and everything you might have wished I had been. Theobvious inference when I first knew you two were together was thatsubconsciously you were seeing him as a parental figure. It didn't take me longto realize I was way off base on that. I can see how important the two of youare to each other. The love you two share is obvious."

Niles was silent for a long time; turning away to stareout the window although he wasn't really seeing what was there. His thoughtswere in turmoil as he considered what his father had said. That he knew so muchabout him was surprising even though his father had told him he'd kept track ofhim. He'd assumed that meant he knew when and where he was and nothing moreover all. Now he had a decision to make, accept that his father had changed andmeant what he said, thus taking a chance of being hurt again, or tell him toget out of his life and not bother him again.

Returning his gaze to MarksNiles said quietly, "If I decide to believe that you're going to... to stayin contact I guess since you're here and I'm thousands of miles away, thenwhat?"

"Then what? We take itslowly I suppose, until you realize I'm not running again." Marks said. "Phonecalls to catch up on things, or e-mails. I can come out there when I get avacation and maybe you can come here too sometimes, with or withoutGavin."

"With," Niles said immediately,and then regretted it when he saw a flash of longing on his father's face."Or without, so we can just do father-son things, whatever thoseare." He smiled. "I'm not big on tossing a baseball back and forth insome park."

"Be still my shatteredheart," Marks said, clutching his chest, "Isn't that de rigueur betweenfathers and sons?"

"Actually," Niles replied,remembering, "I think we did do that way back when, when I was just akid."

"We did. So,"Marks chuckled, "we can scratch that one. We can find other things to doI'm sure."

Niles nodded. "We'll figure that out when the timecomes."

"So... I guess thatmeans you're willing to try?"

"Yes. Yes I think I am.But I'm not cutting you any slack. The first time you disappear again withoutletting me know why and that's it. I'm taking a big gamble, or at least I thinkI am. I suppose I'll find out, won't I?"

Marks looked long and hardat his son before answering. "You will. You'll find out, finally, that I'mgoing to be here for you when you need me. I want this to work as much as youdo, Niles. I'mgoing to prove it to you no matter what." He muttered something then andpulled out his cell. "Gavin's going to shoot me. I promised to call himthe minute I found you."

"Oh hell. He's probablyhalf way to Denvernow if he went the opposite direction from you."

"He did." Markswaited until Gavin answered and then told him concisely that Niles was with him and they were heading backto town. Hanging up, Marks chuckled. "He knows a few interesting wordsthat no professor should."

"He's pissed, isn'the?"

"Yep, at both of us, solet's get you back." Marks patted Nilesshoulder. "I'll take the heat if he starts to go off half cocked."

Niles laughed softly. "You're first try at being afather. I like that."

"First, and probablynot the last," Marks agreed with a smile as he pulled off the verge ontothe highway.

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Saturday Spotlight - AM Burns

2012-02-18T14:00:00.001-06:00

Greetings fans. A lottle late today posting the Sat Spotlight but better late than never. Here is an emergency fill in. Author AM Burns is promoing his latest book. Let's learn more about this author.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing since high school, so almost thirty years.

What made you decide that you wanted to put yourself out there to publish?

Folks have always enjoyed reading my work, and after some of the …ah…interesting work I’ve seen on the market over the past decade or so, I decided it was time to push myself out there and see what the general public thought of my work. So far the response has been really positive.

What is your favorite subgenre to write?

Urban fantasy, it’s sort of the story of my life, and I can really get into minds of some of the unusual characters.

What is your opinion on the “chicks with dicks” analogy? In your opinion, is it wrong for your males to be emotional or romantic?

No, guys have to have emotions, it gives them more depth. I think I’m still working on getting really romantic characters, although folks say that I’m doing a good job on it. Emotion, that’s the easy part.

I’m of the opinion that erotica doesn’t have to be real all the time to make a good story, what are your thoughts?

Erotica doesn’t have to be real, but I don’t like finding anatomical flaws. I’m helping a friend of mine do some, and had to explain the way the male body works to her. Things like that can get irritating in a published work, but reality all the time in fiction writing gets boring.

Who are the authors that you look up to?

Some of the classics like Anne MacCaffery, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Robert Aspirin and Anne Rice helped set me on the path. Nowadays, I read a lot of Carrie Vaughn, Laurel K Hamilton and the like. I love the way Carrie Vaughn handles her books.

What are you working on now?

I’m working on a couple of sequels to novels that are out. “Perfect Trouble” the sequel to “Perfect Love” should be out shortly and right after that the sequel to “Blood Moon, Yellow Sky”

As a gay fiction or m/m romance author, do you feel that the trend is changing where it is becoming more mainstream?

Over the past few years we are seeing more and more gay characters showing up in fiction and in mainstream entertainment. I think the world is becoming more accepting, and readers are wanting to see more. The important part is that with an increase in gay fiction, we are giving people, particularly gay youth role models and examples to what gay men and women can be in society. I try very hard to portray very positive images in my writing to help that along.

What is your opinion as to why publishers only want to group all manlove stories under erotica? Do you feel this is a hindrance to our genre?

What baffles me is why so many people think it has to be erotica. Gay fiction doesn’t have to be hard core, even gay love stories don’t have to be hard core. Some of my work is and some isn’t. I have gotten complaints on the stuff that isn’t saying they enjoyed the storied but it needed more sex. Sex just for the sake of sex isn’t what we should be writing. We should be writing well crafted stories and if sex works into them great, if not, enjoy the good story.

Do you believe it’s important for you to know the gender of the author?

No. That said there are a lot of tale tale signs that can hint at the gender of the author. Little things like the word “anus” and “come”, sorry these are words/spellings that most gay men don’t use. Editors should be catching stuff like this and trying to make it more homogenous across the board. As long as they get it right, or close to right, why should it matter who writes a story?

What is your opinion about some review sites not accepting m/m books?

We shouldn’t want to force folks to accept something that they are not comfortable with. They would give it a bad review. That said some of the promotional sites that just list cheap or free books shouldn’t discriminate, they aren’t reading the book, just advertising it.

Fun questions pick at least 3

Name one celeb that you wish was gay and why?

Hugh Jackman is there any need for a reason???

Name two male celebs that you’d like to see in a hot make out session?

Hugh Jackman and Sam Worthington, a few clothes as possible.

Your favorite gay tv show or movie?

Judas Kiss

Website: www.amburns.com

Twitter : https://twitter.com/#!/AM_Burns

Facebook : http://www.facebook.com/pages/A-M-Burns/226547897358075

Buy Link “Blood Moon Yellow Sky”

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006O09KG0

Blurb: Tal O’Duirwood, dragon, enjoys his quiet life of solitude in the Colorado mountains. He never realized what was missing until his gets an assignment to travel to Yellow Sky, Texas and help a witch and her students there stop a vampire invasion. Once there, he finds that things were not as he was told. The witch is actually a werecoyote, and one of her students has eyes for Tal. Can Tal help stop the vampires in time to save his blossoming love? Will his heart, so long closed off from the world be able to open to the touch of the handsome young mage?

Excerpt:

My heart melted. Never in all my years had someone touched me the way this young mage did. I had to get this out now. “Alex, I’m half dragon.” My heart beat wildly as he stood there staring at me. That second seemed to go on forever.

“A what?” His tone didn’t change. He didn’t pull away.

“A half dragon,” I repeated. “My mother was a dragon and my father was a druid back in ancient England.”

He tilted his head slightly as if he were trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “How did that work? Were you hatched?”

I chuckled. The few people who knew my secret had all asked that question. “No, my mother was of the higher race of dragons that could shape shift. She was a woman when I was conceived and when I was born. For centuries the ancient emperors of China all had dragon blood.”

He let go of me and took a couple of steps away. “Are there a lot of you?”

“Unfortunately, I am the last of the dragons,” I shook my head, “at least to my knowledge. Humans hunted us down. Every so often there are rumors that one of my kind has been seen somewhere in the world, but it’s never been more than rumors.”

Alex stared out over the small valley. “How many people know?”

“Not many. I’m the biggest secret on the planet. More people know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried than what I am.”

Green eyes looked at me puzzled. “Who?”

I raised a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So can you change into a dragon?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Would you like to see?”

His face lit up. “Sure would!”

He wasn’t scared. Yet. I hoped he would still be interested in me after this. I hadn’t been so scared before a change since my first time, back when I turned twenty one. “Okay, stand back a bit.” The image of my dragon shape formed in my mind. The energy of the change surged outward. Seconds later it was done.

I towered over Alex. He looked up at me with more wonder on his face than he’d had when we first looked down into the valley. He reached out a large strong hand and touched my neck. Electricity passed between us as his skin connected with mine.

“Can you breathe fire?” he asked, continuing to caress my neck.

“No. I’m always looking for that secret,” I replied telepathically since it was impossible for me to speak in a way that humans would understand while in my dragon form. “There’s a scroll I just found, back at the library, that I haven’t had time to study yet. I’m hoping it might hold some answers.”

“Wow. But you can fly?”

I flexed my huge black wings. “Of course. Would you like to go on a flight across the valley? We have to stay low.”

“You bet.” He looked around.

Finn - The Pooka is Back

2012-02-17T03:22:00.001-06:00

No, no, we're not talking about that really odd version of a pooka in the Jimmy Stewart movie, Harvey. Finn is...well, Finn. The handsome shapeshifter. The mischievous Irish fae. The lost soul on the Brooklyn Bridge. The defender of humankind.

Really? That last one, too? Fine, not at first. But he does have his heroic moments, even when he's scared out of his wits.

Finn first appeared in mid-2009, in a lovely little fantasy the author truly had written as a standalone. Really. I'm serious. Problem was, some characters develop force of will, despite their author's best intentions. Finn demanded another story, and another, and another...

Due to an issue with a previous publisher, Finn was unavailable for a few months - believe me, he whinged and sulked the whole time. It was terrible. But, thanks to the lovely folks at Silver Publishing, our pooka is back, with all his friends and, er, not so friends.

Starting March 3 - the Endangered Fae series returns. New (lovely) covers. New editions.

This is Finn's world, where the fae have realized they might be on the endangered list...

3/3/12:

Finn, Endangered Fae #1

The story of a pooka lost in New York and the heartbroken man who rescues him...just don't call him a leprechaun.

3/10/12:

Finn's Christmas, Endangered Fae 1.5 (the holiday short story)

Finn comes to grips with several human oddities, including gift giving and *gasp* the importance of promises.

3/24/12:

Diego, Endangered Fae #2

Diego and Finn have their first real quarrel. Of course, those two can't just have an argument. They have to unleash unexpected forces with global consequences...

All coming in March from Silver Publishing (though they're up for pre-order now - just saying :) )

Come join us - there's enough fae to go around!

In Honor of Two Very Special Men...

2012-02-15T09:56:00.002-06:00

A Bear on Books on…Gay Weddings

I know, I know, it really doesn’t have anything to do with books or writing or the man on the moon, but it’s an important issue to me this month.

When I was a younger man, the thought of two men marrying was a fairy tale, so to speak. I was born in 1961, and can remember, vaguely, there still being subtle signs of segregation in the Pine Mountain area of west Georgia where my grandparents lived. They even still had a big bell hanging in the yard, and it had been used to call in the slaves from the fields for meals. So when I got old enough to understand what I was and what it meant, and what I was and what that meant, I figured a wedding just wasn’t in my future.

I lived through the late 60s and the 70s and Free Love and just as I got my courage up and started really being comfortable in my skin in my twenties, AIDS came along and scared the bejesus out of all of us. And killed so many of my friends and loved ones. Because didn’t we learn then, those of us who lived through the early years, that to be safe, you either were celibate or stayed in a committed monogamous relationship. But we still were denied the right to have that relationship legitimized.

I went to many commitment ceremonies in the 80s and the 90s. Some lasted, some didn’t. But I look at my seven brothers and sisters and see how all of them went through the same issues. Cheating, boredom, incompatibility. Whatever it is that breaks a relationship apart or strengthens it, I saw it in my gay and lesbian friends who were couples and in my straight friends and family.

Gee, what a concept. Sexual orientation doesn’t make us immune from the ups and downs of relationships, be they straight or gay or bi. The only difference is, straight couples had to pay the lawyers for divorce. Or have a wedding license that they can look at and remember why they committed in the first place. Or that’s what I thought for a while.

Then I met my ex, Sam. We met when I was 31, and from the first date were joined at the hip (keep it clean people, although there was a lot of joining in those early days).

Our first date was in February and our second on Valentine’s Day, and we talked every day from then until after we broke up 14 years later.

We were monogamous, bought two homes together, had kids (although they were the four legged kind that drank out of toilets), held each other when we had to have the first baby put to sleep after she had a stroke and cried ourselves to sleep that night.

He was there with me and my Dad and sisters and brother at the hospice when my Mom passed away at five in the morning, holding one of her hands with me.

When we split, for very personal reasons, the pain was no less than I had seen my sisters go through, or my good friends who were married.

So why was my relationship…less than?

And that’s when I realized, somewhere along the way, most people in my life considered us married. We had all the indicators – love, commitment, rings. But the State of Georgia didn’t recognize us as legally committed, other than the Living Wills and Powers of Attorneys we held for each other.

I was bitter about it for a while. It might not have lasted forever, but damn it, it was a marriage. And it just wasn’t right, wasn’t just, that I was denied that little slip of paper, that validation that said, your joining matters.

Then, states in the Union started passing laws that did recognize what we all know anyway. A committed relationship, regardless of the genders involved, deserves the sanctity and respect of recognition by the government we pledge to support.

It may not have worked for me this last time, not been forever, but now, now I can go within a few hundred miles of my home when Mr. Right comes along this. Pay our fee and get our license and stand in front of a minister or whoever and have the same right as my brothers and sisters did to be called, legally, spouses.

God bless you Kage Allen and Pookie, I wish you a happy marriage and many many years of wedded bliss. And while you might not throw a bouquet, I’d like to think I might catch it and be next…

Ike's Pet Peeves for February, 2012

2012-02-13T23:47:00.000-06:00

First of all – Happy Valentine's Day! As a gay man in a 30 year monogamous relationship, I'm partial to the day, but have trouble finding a new gift each year, since my sweet hus-bear is a diabetic, so no more candy. I hope you enjoy the artwork below, which was “borrowed” from an email group for wallpapers without the artist's permission, so please do not redistribute.

My second note: I am participating in my first blog tour! From February 27 through March 2, a group of bloggers of and about m/m fiction will be visiting each other for the first annual “Bear Talk Blog Tour”. There will be lots of discussion of what makes Bears such hot men, some samples of fiction, and oh, yes – prizes! Watch here for more details!

Now, this month's Pet Peeve: biology. (Hey, I've been complaining about that since puberty struck!) Warning: this topic is quite graphic. If anal sex offends you – boy, are you in the wrong place!

To be precise, my pet peeve is with male sexual anatomy as misrepresented by many of the biological females who make up a majority of the writers in this genre of “gay erotic romances”. I have no objection to them writing about men getting it on together and falling in love – most of them do an excellent job, but often I can tell when a “male” writer by name does not actually possess a penis. Or more specifically, a prostate.

One of the first dialogues that lead to the founding of this blog last year was a sort of lecture to a couple of these women writers, one of whom had asked me to comment specifically on the m/m sex scenes in a WIP. One of my comments was based on own own personal sexual tastes: to me, anal sex is something that is worked up to, and may not happen on a first date, unless my partner is a very eager bottom. (These comments are based on my sexual activities from over 30 years ago, when I was single and very active, and do not reflect my current LTR.) For me, mutual oral sex can be a totally satisfying sexual experience, perhaps for an entire relationship, depending on the partner. But some men, gay or straight, see oral sex purely as foreplay, even if it ends in an orgasm. These males only view penile insertion into a vagina or rectum (or being entered anally by another male) as a full sexual encounter. This kind of man will continue the encounter past an oral orgasms until an orgasm from penetration occurs. (Ladies, we've all dated the ape who wouldn't be happy with a hand job or a blow job.) I acknowledge the difference. I was just startled by the speed with which an engaged man who claimed to be basically straight was begging to be mounted by a man he'd just met. On the other had, being basically a top, I rarely understand the eagerness of some men to get fucked in the first place, and I made that clear in my comments to my friend.

What I did have problems with in the story was when the guy doing the fucking was surprised when his partner suddenly had an orgasm. Here comes secret number one of gay men, an anatomical fact that most heterosexual men are unaware of, unless they are one of the rare men who like to have a finger in their ass when getting a blow job and have a partner who is willing to bring them to orgasm that way.

A man's anal sphincter ring begins to spasm a short time before he orgasms.

Another man with a penis or fingers in that hole cannot help being aware of the impending orgasm. The strength of the contractions, and the amount of time before orgasm when they start varies based on a number of factors: age and health; the strength of the orgasm; the amount of time they've been leading up to orgasm; when he last had an orgasm; and how often and how much that hole has been used in the recent past, which can affect muscle tone. (Write to me if you can't figure that last one out.)

The point is that somewhere between a minute and fifteen seconds before a man getting sodomized has an orgasm, the man doing it to him will know it is about to come from a series of spasms that are quite enjoyable when the bottom has a tight hole and strong sphincter muscles. Having come out later than some gay men, and so having experienced sex with a number of women, let me tell you that there is nothing like it produced by a woman's body.

As I said, I do not personally enjoy anal sex often, due to a variety of very personal factors, but I do understand the anatomy that makes anal stimulation pleasurable for men. It is our prostate. If a man can relax, even a digital exam by his doctor can be pleasant, especially when his urologist is as hot as mine! (w) Of course at my age, “the prostate” usually becomes part of a long string of curses, but that's the subject for another clog. (Excuse me while I run tho the toilet to urinate.) But stimulation of that walnut sized organ, which controls a number of male excretory and reproductive processes, can be very pleasurable, and eventually causes the adjacent muscles, which include the anal sphincter or ring, to start to spasm in order to produce enough seminal fluid for an orgasm. It is also the reason why a man who is raped may have an orgasm, a little known fact which can cause great shame to newly imprisoned young men. If a man's partner is frequently rubbing or prodding his prostate (often referred to as an “ass-nut” or “joy-button” in some erotica), then he will get an erection from the stimulation, and eventually orgasm. (I'll bet you husband is unaware of that!)

This stimulation is what causes an orgasm, and that spasm in the anal ring.

Dies anyone have any questions, class?

Please leave a comment.

Civil Rights for All

2012-02-13T06:00:00.002-06:00

Greetings readers.

Since it’s black history month, I have a special post about the continuing fight for civil rights. Even though Dr. King’s speech was given back in 1963, the words still ring true today. In his famous speech, he talked about having a dream of racial equality and ending discrimination and as we sit here in 2012 there’s still a fight for those things to happen. Not only are people discriminated against for the color of their skin, but also their gender and or sexual orientation.

Perhaps Dr. King had a thought about that too when he spoke, but his main message was about blacks and whites getting along and marching together but there’s more to this. It goes deeper than that. In this day and age, people still have their prejudices, believing in stereotypes and because of radicals who wish for the world to be completely heterosexual, have continued to make it hard for members of the GLBT community to exist.

We won’t go into the various issues, we’re all aware. If you’ve been paying attention, there’s plenty of people in power who’d love to see the GLBT community erased. They care nothing about MLK’s words, some of them most likely putting on a front for racial equality but letting it stop there. All of them have some kind of hidden agendas, screaming against gay rights and these most likely are the same people who wanted to see DADT kept as a law.

Ridiculous.

Since when is it okay to discriminate against someone because of who they love? The struggles of racial inequalities and orientation inequalities are very similar. Someone is saying it’s wrong for you to be who you are! You were born that race and or born as gay, straight, bisexual, or transgender. Why can’t people see that you cannot change who YOU are?

Every day that we as a society continue to let the discrimination go on, bad things happen. Whether it’s another child committing suicide because they feel no one loves them or people spreading hatred to their kids and inciting them to bully because of the lessons they’re being taught at home; all of this is a vicious cycle.

The point is the civil rights movement hasn’t stopped and there should be more action to recognize that it’s more than just the color or race, it’s about recognizing that all of us have a place in this world, regardless of who we are as people.

When will we stand up for human rights? No one should be forced to live in solitude and without love because of prejudice. When will Dr. King’s words be heeded?

Only time will tell.

Thanks for listening

Forensics 201 (5)

2012-02-12T00:10:00.000-06:00

"How dare you," Niles spat out, pushingaway from the table. "Is he the ulterior motive?"

Gavin reached out a hand tostop him. "Niles,calm down, this was his idea. I only aided and abetted to get you here."

"Well both of you cango to hell! I'm not having my heart and emotions torn apart again, not by him,not now, not ever again." Standing so quickly that he knocked his chairover, he raced past his father to the door, almost barreling into a couplecoming in.

Marks watched him leave,pain written on his face. He turned to look at Gavin. "I never should haveasked you to do this."

"What you shouldn'thave done is walk away in the first place, but I guess you know that. Now wehave to find him and you have to convince him that you're not going to leavehim again." Gavin stood, putting some money down on the table to cover thebeers they never got, and then he and Marks left the restaurant.

"He could beanywhere," Marks said in frustration as he looked around the area thatheld the restaurant.

"He's not stupid, hewon't go trekking off into the wilderness back there so he has to be either atthe car or heading up or down the highway."

"As angry as he was,you don't know that." Marks headed to the edge of the property and thenbegan walking the perimeter, looking for any indication Niles had taken off towards the trees thatsurrounded it. Gavin came after him once he'd checked to make certain Niles wasn't at the car.

"Anything?" Gavinasked as he caught up with Marks.

"No, thank god. Fromthe footprints in the snow no one's gone more than a couple of feet off thepavement." He ran a hand through his hair angrily. "OK, I'll take mycar and head up the highway, you head down. He can't have gotten so far awaythat we'll miss him unless..." He shook his head as he started back to theparking lot.

"Unless someone gavehim a ride, but I doubt he'd do that." Gavin sighed. "At least I hopenot."

Marks nodded, stopping byhis patrol car. "If you find him, here's my number," he said, writingit down on a slip of paper.

Gavin gave him his inexchange before crossing to his rental car. 'Please,' he thought, looking up atthe dark sky above him, 'please let him be alright.'

* * * *

Niles ran out of the restaurant with no thought of wherehe was going to go. He just needed to get away from his father. He feltbetrayed by what Gavin had done but even more he felt afraid of his owndeep-seated emotions. His first thought when he'd seen his father approachingthe table was shock, followed by a need to reach out to him. Then his anger hadrisen to the forefront.

"How could you do thisto me again," he growled under his breath as he walked unseeingly acrossthe pavement to the highway. "Do you get off on hurting me youbastard."

He stopped when the glare ofheadlights from a car turning off the highway hit him, stepping back out of itspath. Once it was gone he moved forward again, hands clenched in his pockets ashe looked up and down the long stretch of road. Making a decision he turnedright and began walking.

Once out of reach of thelights from the restaurant's parking lot the highway was dark, lit only by themoon and the occasional headlights from passing cars. Each time the lattershowed he moved off the verge into the shadows of the trees. He knew Gavin andhis father would come looking for him. The last thing he wanted right now wasto see either of them. In point of fact if he never saw his father again itwould be too soon.

He heard yet another carapproaching just after he'd gone past a slight bend in the highway and thenheadlights lit up the trees across from him. He started to dart into those onhis side of the road when a siren sounded.

"Now what, could thingsget any worse," he muttered as he froze where he was. A spotlight hit him,blinding him so that he couldn't see the police vehicle itself. He heard a cardoor open and then footsteps approaching.

A figure stepped into view,silhouetted by the light and a gruff voice said, "Get into the car.Now."

"What have I..." Niles stopped as herealized who it belonged to. "Why the hell should I?"

"Because I'll cuff youand drag to the station if you don't."

"Yeah you'd probably dothat wouldn't you, you son of a bitch."

Marks voice softened. "Idon't want to, but if it's the only way to get you to listen to me then Iwill."

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Its Raining Men - 1st Anniversary is Coming Up April 1!

2012-02-11T07:46:00.000-06:00

Good morning!

This is Sharita L, not the muses, speaking about out anniversary celebration happening on April 1st. On and off for the past couple of weeks, we've been throwing around some ideas and we've come up with a couple of things we'd love to do.

This is the plan so far:

One fab author, Jean Joachim, came up with this awesome idea for us to make a contribution for every comment made on the blog. We're intending to do 2 groups of authors to split the amount evenly. So say if we get 150 comments for that week. A dollar towards each comment and there's 10 authors donating we each donate the amount to equal the total.

Awesome author Lee Brazil suggested this great charity http://www.pointfoundation.org/index10.html. We'd also like to perhaps do another week for It Gets Better.

For that month, we'd like to invite everyone to post and or donate, regardless of what genre they write. M/M, M/F, F/F, MMF, whatever just to give everyone the opportunity to contribute.

As it stands, we'll be doing 2 weeks of the charity and 2 weeks of giveaways from pubs and or authors doing non charity donations. In other words, something for everyone.

If you'd like to contribute in any way, please email me at michaelmandrake71@gmail.com to let me know what you can do. Publishers, if you can donate swag and or ebooks that would be awesome! Please let me know all thoughts here or through email.

Lets make the first anniversary a big celebration and a way to show our support for the GLBT community!

Thanks for your time!

Top 2 Bottom Reviews

2012-02-11T00:07:00.000-06:00

Title: Bittersweet
Author: Maura Anderson
Publisher: MLR Press
Pages: 54
Characters: Brandon Williams, David Sterling
POV: 3rd person
Sub-Genre: Contemporary Romance
Kisses: 4

Blurb:
Brand knew his appearance was atodds with his profession—a chocolatier who was also a tattooed biker. But afterbeing used as a sort of “bad boy” trophy by his former lover, he’d retreated tohis shop and his pets rather than be hurt again. Avoiding men in fancy suitswas his new game plan—until Dave arrived to pick up an order of weddingchocolates and the attraction flared hot and sweet, despite the fact theydidn’t have much in common.

Review:
Tattooed, tall, dark and handsome,Brandon Williams looks more like a bad boy than a successful chocolatier. Hiscandy shop has an excellent reputation for having delicious and creativechocolate confections, and he takes immense pride in what he does.Unfortunately, when it comes to his love life, his biker-bad-boy appearance hascaused other men to treat him more like a piece of meat than the gentle, caringperson he really is. Even his ex-boyfriend didn’t take him seriously; insteadhe chose to show Brandonoff to his friends as some troublemaker biker on his arm instead ofappreciating him for who he really is on the inside. Because of this, Brandon is oftenmistrustful of other men, particularly the smart, good looking, andwell-dressed ones. But when sexy, smart and immaculately suited up, DavidSterling arrived to pick up a particularly naughty order for a bacheloretteparty; Brandonis immediately attracted to him. He’s surprised and more than a littlesuspicious of David’s flirtatious behavior, instead choosing to believe thatDavid is just as superficial as the other men he’s met. As time goes by andbecause of well-intentioned friends, Brandonsoon realizes he was wrong, but will he be able to work through hisinsecurities and take a chance on finding something special with David afterall?

'Bittersweet' by Maura Anderson is afun, sexy, fast-paced story that I really enjoyed. Both Brandon and David arevery likeable, beautifully flawed and interesting heroes that breathe off ofthe written page. Although I really came to care for both men, I admit the Brandon captured my heartthe most. He’s gentle and almost wears his emotions on his sleeve, causing himto sometimes act first before he thinks things through. I really loved watchingboth men take that step to trust each other and what I hope is the beginning ofa very loving relationship between them.

I do wish the book was longer. Justwhen things get interesting between Brandon and David the story comes to an endand left me wanting more. Bittersweet, definitely screams to have a sequel, andI hope that Ms. Anderson will continue writing more about these fascinatingcharacters. I would also like to point out, because this is the beginning of arelationship, there is not a lot of sexual activity between the two characters.They do some very heavy making out in a bathroom and that’s about it. But thesexual chemistry between them does sizzle as the story progresses, and becauseof the buildup of Brandonin particular learning to trust again, it was still very appropriate andwell-paced, but I’m still going to keep my fingers crossed for a sequel.

Reviewed By: Gabbi

* * * * * * * * * *

Title: Ghost Flower (Banpaia 2)
Author: AJ Llewellyn and DJ Manly
Publisher: eXtasy Press
Pages: 116
Characters: Feng, Banpaia
POV: 3rd
Sub-Genre: Paranormal
Kisses: 5

Blurb:
In this sequel to Banpaia, Feng Lihas returned to his earthly life, going through the motions of each day. Butsomething is missing…something, out there, just beyond his reach.

Feng and Russell have made a lifetogether in LA’s Chinatown, except that Fenghas no memory of the centuries-old vampire, the imperious, mysterious Banpaia,who abducted, then returned them and dozens of other men to their everydaylives.

Feng had fallen in love withBanpaia, who also fell in love with Feng, only to allow the man he’d chosen tobe his life mate to return to Earth and try to live a human existence. AsFeng’s happiness and very life force ebb away each day, Russell is growingstronger. He remembers the great vampire and uses his memories to great manga.Time may be growing short for an increasingly despondent Feng unless he canremember his one true love and go to him willingly, before the next Halloween…

Review:
I have to say that this book is asintriguing and as well written as the first in the series. It starts off with avery depressed Feng and immediately has you wondering why? He got what hewanted most, he found his love, he has a place to live, and hardly no memory ofhis horrid past, why is this young man so unhappy? He’s lost interest in whathe used to enjoy, he goes through life battling to remember something, anythingand at the same time he is in a relationship with who he thought he loved,Russell who he lives with. However, this is not the case.

Fengs world is no longer filledwith the colors life has to offer, he’s not excelling in life as the other boyswho were taken in the mist by Banpaia. If anything, since he got back, he’sworse and he’s to the point that I as a reader really wondered if he was goingto just end it all. But Feng, he’s a fighter and he works hard at rememberingwhat he’d forgotten. Now, Russell, his lover grows stronger every single day,he’s become a famous Manga artist, very popular amongst the reading communitybut even he has something unsettling about him that we know has to do with thevampire he’d been with almost a year ago. He holds the answers to Fengsquestions, yet he doesn’t share for reasons known only to him. Perhaps itsgreed, jealousy? Who knows really. All we do know is that Russell went frombeing a pretty decent guy to a prick in almost no time.

Feng has until Halloween toremember Banpaia, he has just days to remember the love of his life, for if hedoes not, he’ll fade away just as Banpaia will.

The angst in this story is there,the characterization, the setting, the backstory, the set-up, the mystery andthe love is all here. You must pay close attention though and once you readyou’ll see why. There’s a lot going on here, and your heart will beat, it willfeel and you just may find yourself wanting to reach through your readers tograb Feng and hold him tight. He’ll need it.

Reviewed By: Michele

* * * * * * * * * *

Title: Vyper
Author: Kiernan Kelly
Publisher: Torquere Press
Pages: 204
Characters: Vyper, Toby, Bryron and Elizabeth
POV: 3rd
Sub-Genre: Historical
Kisses: 5

Blurb:
Vyper is a dashing pirate whose name strikes fear in the hearts ofblackguards and civilians alike. A fortuitous message in a bottle leads Vyperto the island of Jamaica, but soon entangles him in a web oflies, deceit, and double-crosses, and introduces him to the man who may plunderVyper’s heart and destroy his world.

Byron Caldwell is a handsome, titled British landowner, whose holdings includea thriving plantation on the island of Jamaica. The only shadow on hisotherwise brilliant future is his shrew of a sister, Elizabeth. It’s hisintention to marry her off as soon as possible, if only he can find someonewilling to take her off his hands.

Elizabeth wants one thing and one thing only,the key to the Caldwell fortune, and she’ll stopat nothing to get it, including arranging the kidnapping and eventual death ofher brother by hiring the most ferocious pirate she can find.

The events spurred by a seemingly innocuous message found in a bottle washedashore on a tiny island in the Caribbean soonset Vyper’s life on its ear, and may ultimately bring about his demise.

Review:
Okay, first let me get that hot sexy cover out of the way. Because it isjust that, looking at it makes my mind think naughty thoughts and pirates andbooty and…well you get the idea. So, A+ on the cover. And that sexiness on thecover is none other than Vyper. Who is described as a dashing pirate whose namestrikes fear in the hearts of blackguards and civilians alike. Makes thosenaughty thoughts even naughtier right? But wait it gets better. History tellsus that pirates for the most were a…well to put it nicely…well there is no wayto put what real pirates back in the day were like, so let me blunt. A rude,dirty, disorderly pack of men who often went without baths and pretty much tookwhat they wanted. No matter what it was. They killed another man withoutlooking back and discarding the body over the ship into the deep blue sea meantonly one thing to them. More booty.

Well in this story Vyper is indeed a pirate but he is one who has all hisextremities intact. He has nice teeth, beautiful complexion, awesome hard body,and he has a sense of honor especially to the men on his crew and mostimportantly to his cabin boy, Toby. Now, as we all know if we’ve done ourhistory homework on pirates and the way they lived at sea, we know that a senseof code/honor ran very low. One word of mutiny and guess what they were doing?

Living on a ship at sea, all that salt water and exposure to the sun doeswhat to the skin? Yes indeed. And let me hop back to the cabin boy, Toby. Backin the day generally women were not allowed on those pirate ships, they werebelieved to carry with them bad luck. Months at sea with just men and what doyou think went on? I mean sure they did dock at different ports and they foundthe nearest bars to hook up with the ladies but for the most part it wasnothing but men on a ship for months at a time. And the captain or the masterof the ship always had a cabin boy. Not only to clean up or to serve himdinner, or even just to shave him and dress him but he was also thecaptains….dare I say lover?

Well, in Vyper and Toby’s case, this was not the case. In fact, Vyperprotected Toby since the day he found him aboard another ship that Vyper andhis crew took over. He found a very young Toby, no more than 13 yrs old,perhaps younger chained in the captains quarters and yes, that wee lad underwentsome of the most horrid things anyone can think by the other nasty captain.Vyper and his crew made mince meat of that crew, saving only Toby and more orless adopting him.

Years go by and this is where we meet Vyper and his loyal cabin boy and therest of the crew on a tiny island resting when Toby finds a floating bottlealong the shore line. In that bottle is a note, and when Vyper finally readsthe note, as Toby has no education, he sees it’s a plea from an ElizabethCaldwell. She needs saving and is offering a kings ransom in gold to anyone whorescues her. Vyper is a pirate, you know he’s going after that gold.

What he and Toby encounter on the island of Jamaica is a whole hell of a lotmore than Ms. Elizabeth, the hell fire that she is, but also her brother Byron,who, bless his innocent self, has no idea what his sister is up to. And Vypersuddenly finds himself and other parts of his body very interested in the otherman. A small argument breaks out, Vyper and Toby take the both but Elizabethescapes them when an earthquake hits the island and runs off. NO time to wastethe other three make for the ship to safety.

A string of events happen then and at that point the story switches to thePOV of Elizabeth. Okay, so we are prepared to dislike her simply because wefind out she wants her brother dead so she can inherit the land, the money, allof it for herself. As the story progresses we spend a lot of time in her headand we see why she’s done what she’s done since she was but a young girl. Elizabethwas born in the wrong era. She really was. She wanted her independence, freedomto make her own choices, freedom to come and go and do and buy what she wanted.She hated that a man controlled her every waking moment. The actions she did,she did due to what’d been done to her and I don’t really blame her, too much.I mean don’t get me wrong, that woman would scare me if I met her, but shemakes an about face when she makes a deal with the devil and realizes not allis what she thought.

Kiernan has put together such an interesting pirate story that I reallyhated to see it end. To me, it was more of Elizabeth’s story though. I meanyes, Vyper finds the love of his life, Toby isn’t who anyone thought he was,and so much more. But it was a story of how one lady needed, required, andwanted independence from any man more than anything else in the world. To meshe’s like the Calamity Jane of that era.

We have an HEA for all involved and I’m really really hoping that Kiernan isworking on Toby’s story now. He needs it. I need it. This is a fun fast readfull of adventure on the seas and off. You won’t be disappointed.

Reviewed By: Michele

Prop 8? Just a start...

2012-02-10T03:22:00.000-06:00

I had been thinking about doing another shameless self-promotion post. I have a lot going on. But it's been a huge week in GLBT rights. Huge. You know I can't just let that go.

Let's recap...

On Tuesday, a three judge panel in California in the US 9th district Court of Appeals ruled that the Proposition 8 ban on same sex marriage is unconstitutional. Damn right it is. This decision orders the state to allow same sex marriages to resume.

On Wednesday, lawmakers in Washington State passed a bill that would legalize same-sex marriage in that state.

Also on Wednesday, a group of lawmakers introduced a Gay Marriage bill in the Illinois General Assembly that would not only legalize same-sex marriage in the state but allow for the conversion of existing civil unions into marriage as well.

These are big things. Change rolls in odd and often jerky ways, but it rolls. Like a Katamari ball, the right thing gathers mass over time.

Are these victories? No. I hate to say it, but no. These are beginnings. Opponents are already gearing up to file the appeals against the California court decision. Civil rights opponents in the state of Washington want to place the gay marriage issue as a referendum on the ballot in November. Illinois lawmakers face an uphill battle against conservative groups.

But these things would not have been possible, conceivable, not even imaginable twenty years ago. It has begun. Let the Katamari ball roll.

Lift Your Paddle for a Little Auction Action

2012-02-09T02:00:00.000-06:00

Auction Action is part of All Romance eBooks Perfect Strangers collection for 2012. It's being released on February 13. I had a ball writing this story. It was fun and I love auctions.

Art isn’t the only thing a man can find at an auction…

Frederick Holloway is a successful antiques dealer with a clientele that he likes to keep happy. When one of his most important clients asks him to attend a charity auction to buy a painting for her, Frederick agrees. What he didn’t expect was the Greek god with the face of the Marlboro man who is his auction competition.

Duncan is not expecting so powerful and commanding a man in such a small package. He likes it, really likes it, and he finds that Frederick can give him something he desperately needs. But are they playing around, is something deeper developing, or is Duncan still trying to get an angle on the portrait of his relative that he lost at the auction?

Pre-Order a copy from ARe:

Excerpt:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is thelast lot of the evening. Portrait of aLady, by Steven Jennings. Can I have an opening bid of fifty thousand?” Aman in front nodded and the bidding began… seventy-five, one hundred thousand. GreekGod bid one twenty-five, and Frederick immediately bid one-fifty. The bidsclimbed, and every time Greek God bid, Frederick immediately topped him. Two-fifty,three hundred thousand. Frederick had the bid, and the auctioneer called forfinal bids. Greek God bid three twenty-five and threw a smug look inFrederick’s direction, raising his glass.

Frederick nodded, and the auctioneerbegan once again calling for final bids. “Five hundred thousand,” Fredericksaid forcefully without raising his voice, and he saw Greek God choke on the champagnehe was drinking. The auctioneer called for final bids one last time, and no onesaid anything.

“Sold!” The auctioneer said with ahuge smile, and everyone in the room began to applaud politely, many turning tolook at Frederick, who simply nodded to acknowledge the applause beforedrinking the last of the bubbly from his glass. “Take that, Greek God,” he saidwith his eyes before making his way to the cashier. In the envelope with theinstructions had been a black credit card with his name on it. He simply handedit to the cashier, signed his name, and it was done. He collected the painting,which had been wrapped and properly boxed. Carrying it out the door, he sawGreek God staring at him. He nodded to him as the driver opened the door, andFrederick got inside, the car pulling away from the curb and winding throughtraffic to Frederick’s home.

“You can leave the painting with me,and I will take it to Mrs. Garlock,” the driver explained. Frederick wasn’tabout to do that without specific word from Saundra. On cue, the phone in thecar rang, and the driver answered it before transferring it through thespeakers.

“You were brilliant, Frederick,thank you. Leave the painting in the car and Cedrick will take it from here. Ifthere’s any place you wish to go, tell Cedrick. The car and driver are yoursfor the evening.”

“Thank you, Saundra,” he said witha smile.

“You’re welcome, dear boy.” Shehung up, and Frederick asked Cedrick to take him home.

“I need to change and then havesome fun,” he told the driver, and Cedrick nodded, pulling up in front ofFrederick’s home. He got out and hurried inside, walking up the stairs. Changingout of his tuxedo, Frederick pulled on a black T-shirt and tight leather pantsand boots. He may have been small, but he knew in these clothes he wasabsolutely eye-catching. He’d done well, and tonight he wanted to be noticed.

Leaving the house, Frederick gotback into the limousine and gave the driver the address of his favorite bar. Onething was for sure, when he arrived in this vehicle, he was definitely going tobe noticed.

The ride didn’t take long, andCedrick pulled up to the curb. Frederick got out, and Cedrick handed him a cardwith a phone number on it, which he shoved into the pocket of his pants beforewalking toward the club. One thing Frederick had discovered a long time ago wasthat regardless of how tall you were in reality, if you acted as though youwere six feet tall, that was how people treated you. And tonight Frederickwalked into the club as though he owned the world.

Once inside, he sauntered up to thebar and climbed onto a stool. When the bartender overlooked, him Fredericksimply grabbed the man’s leather harness and pulled the startled bartender downto eye level. He said nothing and simply glared into the other man’s eyes untilhe heard him moan softly. “That’s what I thought. Bring me a martini and I’llthink about it.” Frederick released him and the bartender couldn’t move fastenough to get his drink.

Frederick turned around, checkingout the room, meeting the eyes of anyone and everyone. It wasn’t long before heowned the room and he knew all the boys were talking about him. Turning backtoward the bar, Frederick finished his drink and ordered another. When hisdrink arrived, Frederick turned around once again and found himself lookinginto Greek God’s eyes.

“You know, what you did wasn’t particularlyfair,” the man said, and Frederick let his eyes wander over the man’s painted-onjeans that left nothing to the imagination and the T-shirt that clung to hiswide chest like a second skin.

“If you go into battle unprepared, you deserveto lose,” Frederick explained levelly before raising his glass and sipping hismartini. He expected Greek God to get upset or storm away, but what Fredericksaw in those deep brown eyes and the subtle way his stance widened with interest.Frederick kept that realization as well as his own gut-thumping desire off hisface. If he wanted to remain in control, and he definitely did, then Greek Godhad to make the first move, or at least the correct first move.

Anne Brook Riptide Contest

2012-02-08T23:59:00.000-06:00

The miraculous powers of place

It’s funny how powerful setting can be in a story, and how much it can change the way you write it. Most of my stories are set in places I know or have at least visited, although my fantasy fiction settings obviously have a whole different range of issues. I have to make those up from scratch for a start, and remember them! In the past I’ve written about London, where I lived for two years, Essex where I grew up, Devon as I’ve visited fairly often, Egypt (the product of one glorious holiday a while ago), and Godalming in Surrey where I lived for eighteen years.

And I think every story setting has its own special characteristics: the London fiction is dark and dangerous, Essex tales are quirky and have a close-knit sense of community, scenes in Devon are very much focused on the landscape and its spaciousness, and my Godalming novel has, I think, a feeling of being set apart and different from its surroundings. Well, that’s what can happen in small towns as they try to contrast themselves to the big towns nearby.

In The Heart’s Greater Silence, I set a story for the first time ever in Guildford (although it’s not named as such), one of those big towns I mention above and the town I work close to for three days a week. In some ways Guildford is quite a featureless place, or it feels so. There’s a strong club culture which gives it almost the air of being like parts of London but, at the same time, it’s surrounded by instantly accessible and rather beautiful countryside, and the steep High Street is charmingly cobbled. Though it does cause hell in winter …

It’s funny too as I usually feel very safe there during the daytime, if I’m shopping or suchlike, but it very much changes character during the night. There’ve been a couple of times in the past where I’ve arrived back at Guildford Station after an evening out in London and been very nervous indeed whilst walking back to my car – the station carpark isn’t that close. These days, I don’t get out to London much and, if I do, my husband kindly picks me up. However, it would be true to say I did feel safer walking around post-9/11 New York at night than I do walking around night-time Guildford. All very strange …

Places like this, however, can be a boon to a writer. Setting the story in a strangely featureless town with a variety of different and contrasting ingredients bubbling up in its melting pot means I had free rein to allow my two characters in The Heart’s Greater Silence to develop their own personal settings around them. Mark’s setting is very much the club-land and he lives, most of the time, in the edgier side of Guildford. On the other hand, Richard’s environment is in the safer areas and the reader only ever sees him in the church, which is in fact St Nicolas Church at the bottom of the High Street.

Most of the action in the story happens in the church, a place that Mark is both travelling towards and away from. I also feature a key flashback scene with Mark’s boyfriend, Craig, on the bridge which links the church to the High Street. I wanted, subconsciously, to provide a connection between the church’s shadowy sense of protection embodied by Richard, the ordinary naturalism of Craig (whose attention is at the time focused on the river, as well as on my hero), and the edgy darkness of Mark, who is very much part of the town’s club scene. It is here where all three men both meet each other and find an ending, of a kind.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read, and I hope it makes you think about the power of place in books, even if only a little. I’d also love to hear what you think about setting, both in The Heart’s Greater Silence and in other books too. Do you have a favourite fictional place? If so, where is it and what’s the special attraction? Over to you!...

Blurb from The Hearts Greater Silence:

Mark isn’t sure he believes in love, especially when he finds himself torn between two very different men: his reliable boyfriend, Craig, and his illicit lover and priest, Richard.

Mark knows what he should do, but he can’t bring himself to give Richard up. The sex with Richard is unlike anything he’s ever known with Craig, and he hungers for it as much as—if not more than—the truer intimacy he finds in his boyfriend’s arms.

When Craig discovers his betrayal, Mark is forced to look at his life more closely, but the path to self-knowledge is never an easy one. Richard seeks the way back to God, but Mark finds no solace there. Can he ever discover the truth of his own soul, or is he too afraid of what he will—or won’t—find inside his heart?

Read an excerpt and purchase The Hearts Greater Silence here.

Email address: albrooke@me.com

Anne's contest and prizes:

1. I have one contest per stop - with the prize being a backlist ebook giveaway for one commenter.

2. I also have a cumulative competition throughout the blog tour involving answering 3 questions from HGS - with the prize being 3 backlist ebooks for one commenter from the tour as a whole. The questions are

(a) What item of his trade is Richard wearing when Mark sees him in church?
(b) When Craig discovers Mark and Richard together, what does he do just before leaving?
(c) What action does Mark take at the end of the story?

3. One signed cover flat and magnet for one commenter per stop - with this NOT being the winner of Item 1 (see above)

4. One gift certificate to be drawn at the end of the tour - with this NOT being the winner of Item 2 (see above).

“My Dark Mystery Stud” - Chapter Two

2012-02-06T23:43:00.000-06:00

“My Dark Mystery Stud”

This is a monthly series, which began with the words: “The great love affair of my life started when New York City decided to totally rebuild the Parade Grounds, a large park which consisted only of athletic fields located across the street from my apartment.” To read the introduction to the series, and Chapter One, go to: http://rainingmenamen.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-dark-mystery-stud-chapter-one.html

Photo "Drama for gods" by Andrei Vishnyakov of Vishstudio, Russia. http://vishstudio.deviantart.com/

Chapter Two

I first noticed the man early in the spring when construction had just ended. Although not yet “officially” to be opened until almost summer, the Parks Department began to give permission to organized leagues to use the new fields, and the public was able to use some of them, too.

The “soccer” side of the Parade Grounds had been covered with artificial surf, so that during the spring and summer it would be reserved for soccer, while American football could be played there during the rest of the year. The other side had an interesting new configuration. Near the center was an official, full sized baseball field, complete with bleachers, brick dugouts, and a lighting system for night games. That caught my attention before construction was even finished; hardball is not played by children, but by adults, or at least by older teenagers. There were four softball fields like the former ones, while a field that was now too small for that due to the big new baseball diamond and some new basketball courts was turned into a “general use field” for public use. All the fields on this side are natural grass, to be closed during the off season to allow the grass to recover. The problem of cleats on grass had been solved.

The first softball game that I witnessed made me grin in sexual anticipation. It wasn’t Little League. In fact, they never did return to the Parade Grounds, but their equivalent in youth soccer leagues, including one for tots, began to use the artificial fields. This first softball game was by teams in a league sponsored by Latino bars and ‘bodegas’; all of them adult men! Although they all appeared to be escorted by wives and girlfriends, a few of the men gave speculative looks at some of the men watching the game from outside the fence. Although I prefer openly gay partners, I am tolerant of closet cases and hot bisexual men.

The first hardball game was disappointing - not teens, but college guys in their early 20’s. I had to admit they were all well built, so it had been worth watching a few innings as their beautifully built bodies moved smoothly on the field. Only one of the young men had any sexual possibility; even in his uniform, I could see he was a young fur-ball. I wondered what his father or older brothers looked like, and I hoped to have a chance to watch this young stud mature in the next few years.

That game was during the first weekend when the fields were in use.

Early on Tuesday evening, while the sun was still up, I was walking my dog when I noticed a very mixed group of men playing a pick up game of soccer in the “general public” field. Unlike the formal adult soccer leagues, which tend to be divided into teams of national origins, this group had all sorts of men, from a hairy redhead in fantastic shape who was probably about 50, to a tall, skinny black guy who lived in my building and I knew was about to graduate high school. I heard at least four languages I could identify yelled by the two teams, which had adopted the American system of “shirts versus skins”.

One stud stood out above them all. Literally stood out; he was at least 6’4”. At first, I thought that he was on the “shirts” team and wearing a black mesh t-shirt. Then the ball came rolling over against the fence right in front of the bench where I was sitting with my dog, a Rottweiler mix, quietly drooling over a few of the men. The tall stud came running towards me, wearing cut off shorts that revealed beautifully muscular legs, showing me that the “shirt” was one of the heaviest mats of man-fur I’d ever seen. Now, I’ve been looking at and admiring hairy men since I discovered men when I was 13, a total of 37 years of watching, hunting and fucking bears. I saw that his legs and arms were almost as hairy. This stud was built like the proverbial shit house. And then some!

I couldn’t help but stare at him as he trotted towards the ball. I usually know better than to stare at a strange man in public; I was only fag bashed once in my life, when I was 26, but that had taught me my lesson about ogling tough looking men in my blue-collar neighborhood. The ball had rolled a few yards along the fence. He bent to pick up the ball, and my heart almost stopped. I freely admit that I’m a fucking ass man. I have been most of my adult life. Even during the confused period when I was having sex with women well dreaming about man, I preferred women with big rears instead of big boobs. His shorts did little to hide the fact that he had one of the hottest, fuckable, muscular asses I’d seen in years, and I could see some of his hairy ass crack.

Standing up, he looked directly at me, and then the dog, grinning. He had a dazzling white, even teeth, framed by a heavy mustache and full lips. His skin was dark, like a deep tan, but my glimpse of his ass crack had shown me that this was his natural skin color. But his handsome features gave me absolutely no clue to his ethnic identity.

I grinned back at one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. My hand unconsciously fell to my chest, lightly touching my erect nipple through my t-shirt. A beautiful deep voice said “Hi, there.”. and I managed to answer without squeaking up to the top of my tenor voice, something which still happened when I was either nervous or very turned on - and I was both. My dog barked, her tail wagging in a playful way.

“That’s a really hot looking dog you’ve got there.” The sexy deep voice continued, revealing absolutely no accent other than the same slight Brooklyn accent which I have, leaving me with no clues to his ethnic group. We chatted a few words about my dog, Milo, until a Spanish curse reminded him of the game. With a wave and another dazzling grin, he turned back to the game without us having a chance to introduce ourselves. I muttered to myself: “Shit. He knows my fucking dog’s name but not mine! He’s wearing a gold ring on his wedding finger but I couldn’t tell if it was a band or no! Is he interested, or just friendly?”

I watched the perfect poetry of his beautiful body at play for a half hour more, although I don’t understand soccer at all, since it had been introduced to most of America when I was already an adult. He never looking in my direction again. Between this dark, mysterious, masculine beauty and the graceful, shirtless, mature, muscular redhead who did give me a couple of glances, and was almost as hairy and hot, I ended up with a painful case of blue balls. (I’ve always had a “thing” about redheads with red fur).

Rushing the dog inside, I called one of my construction worker fuck-buddies who I knew wasn’t working a new job yet. Mike was a brawny 5’8” muscle-bear, a hot little redheaded Irishman laborer with a great hairy body, who loved to be fucked hard and long. At 26 and recently divorced from a cheating wife, he’d finally accepted the fact that he was gay, so Mike had no interest in a relationship right then, wanting to “make up for lost time”. Best of all, since the divorce had happened just as he’d started working on the Parade Grounds project, Mike had decided to move to the area, so was living two short blocks away from me. He’d made it clear after our first few nights together that he was perfectly willing to get a “booty call” from me whenever I needed some action. I had taken him up on that a couple of times. Well, I really needed Mike’s eager and still tight ass!

He was home, horny and eager. He had no idea that the two big, hot loads this 50 year old man who has to walk with a cane shot in a rubber deep in his ass, and a third that I later licked up myself from his hairy chest was actually, in my mind, meant for the dark-skinned mystery soccer stud, a man who I assumed I’d never see again. Well, I’ll be honest; the third one had been inspired by thoughts of that hot red daddy-bear in bed with the mysterious dark man and me. Mike went home a contented stud, having matched me load for load.

As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if my dark mystery stud lived nearby, or just came by to use the sports fields with friends.

To be continued…

Vertigo Blog Tour Stop 6 - Multi Faceted Writer

2012-02-06T05:00:00.004-06:00

Good morning. Welcome to IRM today for day 5 of my gay male muse Michael Mandrake's blog tour.

This has been a fab experience with all the comments about how people love the concept, the excerpt, etc. I do too and I think about how this was something different as opposed to anything I'd done with any of my muses.

Again, Vertigo came from a short story I did for the Riding the Rocket Anthology when my editor, Sascha Illyvich was looking for sci fi/paranormal gay stories. When I wrote it over a year ago, I had no clue what my character David was. It wasn't till I recently finished the full book that I finally knew and it excited me to find out what kind of being I came up with.

I like that element of surprise when I write and as a reader, I love when my favorite authors try something different. Those that know me as a writer are aware that I write m/m romance and or erotica primarily but I’ve also delved into hetero. I think it’s important for authors to have a variety to what they write so their readers stay interested and even though M/M has been my primary focus, I do intend to publish my m/f series, African Sun but under my female pseudo Rawiya. I'd say the M/M is my preference because I enjoy creating stories about manlove but I do realize the backbone of erotica romance is still the vanilla. I don't see that changing either so if I have an idea for a story, I'll go with it.

I don’t claim to be an expert but me as a reader would like to see my favorite writers try something new. If you’re an M/M author and like sticking to it, then try writing a historical instead of a contemporary or dip into paranormals.

Of course, doing new genres or subgenres comes more research but that’s part of the fun. For my upcoming hetero novel series, African Sun, I did a lot of research on the continent of Africa. I found out many interesting facts about the country of Tanzania where the story is set as well as tribes and healthcare organizations that served in the rural regions. It was fascinating what I’d read and as I continue doing the series there will be more. All this because I love to give my readers a different look from me. The worst thing I want to be is predictable.

I’d like to thank you for giving me a listen. Readers, I'd like to know if you agree. Would you like to see some of your favorite writers try something new?

Thanks for your time

Ready to find out what he is? Please comment and you could win a copy of the book or my last book, ironically, the vampire short, Power of Muse and be entered into the drawing for an Amazon GC worth $25 dollars.

Booktrailer

Sizzler Buylink Amazon Barnes and Noble

After losing his lover to mental disorder, Dr. Hayden Curry throws himself into work, silently wishing he could experience something extraordinary in love. He finds his match in David, a creature Hayden revives after discovering him and hauling him back to his lab. Upon awakening, David asks Dr. Hayden’s help in discovering more about himself. Hayden agrees but senses secrets in David. Will he get to the bottom of things and be able to continue the special relationship he and David have, or will the secrets that come forward tear them apart?

Before I went to my haven, I glanced outside my window. Outside, the rainfall reduced to a drizzle, coupled by slow moving clouds over the moonlight. The trees blew after only a few gusts of winds, ripped the leaves off and made quite a mess on the grass underneath.

These would be the nights I would cherish with him most. After relishing in the afterglows of new inventions and glasses of wine, there were mind blowing affections to follow.

Such a good lover…

Once I got to my place of work, I immediately began searching for the vials I had for the latest concoction. When I did not see them, I lost my head rather quickly.

“Where on God’s green earth,” I screamed and walked from one end of my laboratory to the other. "Where are those samples I just had? Libertina!"

Immediately, the pale and slim maiden with dark hair ran to my aid.

"Yes sir, have you lost something again, sir?"

"I have Libertina. The tubes I examined the night before. They seemed to…oh."

Within moments, my dearest uncovered the missing necessities I searched for, right underneath my novel, The Bounded Scientist.

I shrunk back and smiled wryly. "Thank you Libertina, ahem, that will be all my sweet."

"Yes sir, if there is anything you need, I'll be tending to your clothes, sir." Quickly, she curtsied and scurried off, closing the door behind her.

Ah, what a fine young maiden I have. If I were more attracted to the ladies, then I might give her go, but only gentlemen tickled my fancy these days.

I could not be that upset even in this pitiful state. Not that many people understood me when they came to know me. Throughout the years, many thought they should have thrown me in the local mental ward because of the ideas I'd had.

Nevertheless, my determination and visions had made me one of the most recognizable names in London, apart from the fact I inherited my father's large fortune.

Still, even with all the money and notoriety, I had always felt something was missing from my life. I longed for something new to happen. Whether it was a new discovery or invention it had to be different from what I had already seen.

I looked at the experiment I had been working on for seemingly weeks in disgust. Things hadn’t been the same anyway since Lawrence departed but I was determined to move on with my life’s work despite what happened to him. I had to hold on to the hope he would return.

After around the fifteenth trial of not receiving my desired result, I retreated to my bedroom to sleep. Unlike times before, I decided not to read before bed but instead lay there until my eyes got too heavy.

I hoped the nightmares would not start again since after they occurred I stayed awake staring at the ceilings of my room, often needing a drink of the alcoholic variety to put me to rest. I felt myself becoming rather dependent on the beverages. Certainly, doing this sort of thing would cloud my senses and not allow me to function properly. Many men of science I knew had become like this and I refused to become one of them.

I’ll never.

I always reassured myself that I wouldn’t continue to down this dangerous path, however, everyday, being alone with only yourself to talk with could be a detriment to one’s mental state.

Although fully capable of doing everyday things, I’d come to accept that I was different. After all, for one, I wasn’t attracted to women. Two, I enjoyed reading more than being outside playing in games.

In fact my mom would frequently say that she wished I’d be like “normal” boys and go play ball instead of reading. This from the same woman who didn’t know how to read until after she birthed me. With the help of my caregiver, I taught myself how to read the written word thus showed my mum in the process. Still, even afterwards, she didn’t consider it as an important skill. “I’ve always had people to do things like read for me,” she said, giving illiteracy credence. Totally absurd but true.

If I wasn’t able to read and learn I might die.

Such is true of me, Doctor Hayden Curry. I preferred to have my mind stimulated before anything else. This isn’t saying that I didn’t enjoy the sins of the flesh because I did, but, books were like gold to me, more important than any penny I owned. I’d inherited most of it which allowed me to live the lavish lifestyle and work on experiments instead of seeing patients to cure their ailments. I wasn’t interested in short term solutions anyway. I wanted results that could change the world and mankind forever.

BIO: Michael Mandrake is a BRIT!

A 39 year old Brummie who loves to write tales of love and romance between two men that aren't afraid to show their sexuality. At least that's what this 39 year old mom from the US thinks he is. They talk on a regular basis, Sharita and her muse.

Now for the truth, Sharita, who also writes under Rawiya and BLMorticia is a happily married mom of 2 who loves everything about British culture and hopes to visit someday.

Michael M is her most successful pseudonym. To date, he is the only muse with 3 sole author books, 2 more coming before the end of 2012. He’s contracted through XOXO publishing, Sizzler Editions, No Boundaries Press, and does shorts through STARbooks Press. Michael shares Sharita's love for writing tales where the characters are comfortable with their sexuality and the plots are more of a mainstream romance as opposed to m/m. They aren't perfect and cross into new territory, resolving their struggles through communication coupled with mind blowing sex.

At the moment, Mandrake’s books are only small steps into what’s to come. Look for longer works from Sharita and the muse, Michael very soon.

The Literary Triad - http://www.thelitriad.com/#!

The Literary Triad on FB - https://www.facebook.com/TheLiteraryTriad
Michael Mandrake - http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com

Twitter - http://twitter.com/#!/rawiyamikembl

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSharitaLira

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Forensics 201 (4)

2012-02-05T00:45:00.000-06:00

Niles waited until they were well away from the sheriff'sdepartment before rounding on Gavin.

"Now would you mindtelling me why we're really here," he asked. "It's obvious they don't need your expertise, even I can tell that."

Gavin cocked an eyebrow athis irate young lover. "They did ask for my assistance, a lot ofsmall-town police and sheriff departments do."

"I'm sure they do butthat doesn't explain why you chose to comehere. Surely from the information they sent you you could tell they didn'treally need your help."

"Perhaps I just wantedan excuse to take a small vacation with you."

"Yeah, well if that wasthe case why didn't you just say so instead of coming up with this ruse. Youknow I'd have said yes to anywhere you wanted to go, including here." Thelook on Nilesface said he didn't believe what Gavin had said.

Gavin's mouth tightened ashe replied, "I should be upset that you don't trust me but," he spreadhis hands in acquiescence, "you're right; I do have an ulterior motive.Unfortunately there's nothing that can be done about it until tomorrow."

"Why didn't you justsay so instead of going through this elaborate charade?"

With a smile, putting hisarm around the younger man's waist, Gavin told him, "You'll see tomorrow.For now, since we have a whole afternoon to ourselves, I opt that we see howlong it takes you to learn to ski."

"No way, no how. Youare not getting me up on some slope, knee deep in snow, just to watch me make afool of myself."

"First off the idea ofskis is to keep you on top of the snow, not in it. Secondly I bet you'll bebetter than you think. We'll start you off slowly on the bunny slope and workup from there."

Niles sighed. "You're going to insist on this aren'tyou?" When Gavin grinned evilly Nilesshook his head. "OK, tell you what, I'll do it if I can learn to board,not ski."

Gavin gave him a horrifiedlook. "That is totally unsafe."

"Riiight. First off ifI can skateboard, and I can, then snowboarding should be easier for me thantrying to control two narrow slats of wood."

"You skateboard?"The horrified look on Gavin's face intensified.

Niles laughed. "I haven't in the last year or so butwhen I did I was damned good. Never broke anything and managed not to leave toomuch skin on the pavement."

Heaving a sigh, Gavin bowedto the inevitable. "Snowboarding it is. Just remember I'm not footing thehospital bills."

"Oh ye of little faith,it'll be just fine. By the end of the afternoon I'll be beating you down theslopes."

* * * *

"Told you," Niles crowed as he waitedat the bottom of the slope for Gavin to join him. "This is easy once youget the hang of it. You should try."

"I'll stick to skis,thank you very much. But I will admit you caught on fast. I suppose tomorrowyou're going to be trying tricks like the other young men and women Isaw."

Niles grinned. "Got it in one. I'd do it now but itwill be dark soon and I'm starving. Where are we going to eat?"

"I saw a decent lookingrestaurant on the drive over here. We'll try it and see."

Half an hour later they wereseated at a table that gave them an awe-inspiring view through a large picturewindow. The sun had dropped beyond the horizon, and the full moon stood out instark contrast against the deep blue sky, the snow-covered mountain peakssilhouetted against it, peaks silvered by the moon's light.

"I think, if it weren'tfor the snow and the cold, I could love living here," Niles said with a smile.

Gavin laughed. "Mightbe hard to do your boarding without the snow, but I agree it is a fantasticpart of the country. Maybe when I retire I'll think about living here, at leastfor part of the year."

"That would be neat,but a long way off."

"No that many years I'mafraid. If I retire. I think I'd go crazy without something to keep mebusy."

"That would beme," Nilestold him, grinning.

"Yes, I think you'd doa good job of it too." Gavin smiled but he wondered how long Niles would really be inhis life once he'd gotten his degree and was ready to put it to use. It didn'thelp his suddenly darkening mood when the waitress came over and asked what heand his son would like to drink.

Niles saw the look thatflashed over Gavin's face and reached out to take his hand, not caring whenthe waitress looked shocked as he told her, "I'm not his son, we'relovers, and we'll have a couple of beers for now."

When she left he looked atGavin. "I hope you don't mind I did that."

"I don't, but I thinkyou just broke her heart. She was hoping you were single and available."

"Single, yeah, for themoment at least; available, not in this lifetime. I have you."

"Someday..."

"Someday nothing,"Niles saidsoftly, leaning close, intending to kiss Gavin. "As long as you want me..." Hebroke off, eyes widening in shock and then anger as he glared at Gavin.

A Message about a Contest from SL and her company Romance First

2012-02-04T20:51:00.000-06:00

http://romancefirstpublishing.blogspot.com/2012/01/contest-coming.html?zx=d92be7e75122b27f

Saturday Spotlight- Ellis Carrington

2012-02-04T05:00:00.000-06:00

Good morning IRMer's, today we're happy to have Ellis Carrington with a guestpost today. Please give her your undivided attention.

The Perfect Valentine’s Day? By Ellis Carrington

My upcoming novella, Immortal Valentine, opens in Washington DC on Valentine’s Day evening. It’s a very sexy and slightly mysterious boy-meets-vampire story about what’s supposed to be a one-night stand. Now always when two people meet and hook up there are preconceived notions and plans…

Caleb literally runs into Angelo on the street, and thinks he’s in for some hot and steamy fun with a handsome stranger. Angelo is a vampire who comes out of hiding once a year on Valentine’s Day to find a human blood host. He’s lonely, and he’s the last living vampire that he knows of, so he does what he can to make it special. He has a standing reservation at the swankiest restaurant in town, and an even nicer hotel room where the bow-chicka-wow-wows can ensue. He finds a lonely stranger and tries to make it special for both of them.

Except this year, everything goes wrong.

So I don’t think I’m ruining anything if I tell you that the story ends happily—it IS a romance after all.

But sometimes I like to think of how my characters will continue to live out their lives, even after the story ends. Once they’ve had their HEA in Immortal Valentine, what will Caleb and Angelo do for Valentine’s Day next year?

Egads. Moreover, what will *I* do? I’m notoriously awful about coming up with romantic ideas, and the Chia Pet I picked up last-minute for my husband at CVS last year isn’t going to cut it a second time around.

So I’ve come up with a few romantic Valentine’s Day ideas for Angelo and Caleb, but they’re (mostly) suitable for humans and creatures of the night alike.

Picnic on the floor with your favorite movie (Angelo likes to make fun of The Lost Boys) while sipping your partner’s blood or a nice glass of wine.
Attend a Valentine’s Day concert : Caleb is a music lover and Angelo is an artist, so this could be right up their alley.
Dinner and a nice hotel room. They could recreate the plans they had that first Valentine’s night together that went so horribly awry.
They could go ice skating at the ice rink they first met in front of.
When in doubt, porn in bed? Hey, doesn’t have to be fancy to be romantic, and sometimes sex is the best way to connect. Right?

But please. Help me out folks, what are your ideas for a perfectly romantic Valentine’s Day this year?

Immortal Valentine releases 2/12 from Amber Allure:

After a heart-pounding brush with danger on Valentine’s Day, Caleb runs into a handsome stranger and decides to roll the dice on a one-night stand. But things don’t work out the way anyone intended when Caleb gets sick unexpectedly. He wakes up alone the next day, extremely confused and utterly embarrassed.

Angelo is an insomniac vampire who leads a solitary existence. He comes out of hiding once a year—on Valentine’s Day—to soothe one lonely human soul while drinking the blood he needs to survive. But when Caleb falls ill he winds up connecting with a human as he never has before, and putting his own life at risk when he does.

Find out more at EllisCarrington.com, on Facebook, or on Twitter.

A New M/M Science Fiction Novel? the crowd goes wild

2012-02-03T03:22:00.000-06:00

Heh. Well, I am, anyway. As a reader, I'm always looking for full-length SF novels with gay heroes and now I have one coming out myself.

I've written SF for years under my given name, mainstream, non-erotic novels and shorts, but Angel has been rather remiss in the SF department, preferring to play in the realms of fantasy.

Until now.

(Cue the shameless self-promotion fanfare...)

Coming 2/25/12 from Silver Publishing (available for pre-order now):

Gravitational Attraction

The classic story of boy meets boy, boy finds out boy is a military weapon gone wrong, mayhem ensues. You know. The usual. Oh, heck, I better let the blurb and excerpt speak for themselves before I cause any more trouble.

Blurb:

A distress call draws the Hermes to a drifting ship, empty except for the gore-spattered corridors and one survivor. Drawn to the traumatized man, Isaac offers the kindness he needs. But Turk harbors secrets, his brain a dangerous military experiment. It will take more than kindness to save them all.

Excerpt:

A terrible jolt yanked him from the dark. Shchfteru. Agonized screams. Rage coursing through every nerve. The white… blinding white… imploding suns… the terrible silence…

He had no wish to open his eyes again. There had been a face, a beautiful face, but he must have dreamt it in his madness. The silence remained. If he opened his eyes, he would see the cell again, the blood drenched walls, the gray horror of his floating tomb. No. Better to keep his eyes closed and see again those dark eyes set against flawless golden skin.

Wait. Sound. The soft sound of even breaths drawn. Not alone. Sweet spirits, I'm not alone.

His eyes flew open to find a miracle staring at him from across the room, the same lovely face from his vision. It must have been true. His body felt warmer and no longer as if he might go mad from thirst. Rescue… perhaps. But he needed to be cautious.

"Hey." The beautiful, golden-skinned man spoke, his smile reaching his raindrop-shaped eyes. "You recognize me?"

He could only stare, hesitant to believe the evidence of his senses. They had lied to him before in recent days.

"You have a name?" The voice rivaled the face in beauty, soft and warm, caressing his exhausted mind. "All right, we'll start with mine. I'm Isaac Ozawa. And I guess I could just call you the Marduk Rescuee, or maybe Ishmael—"

"Ishmael?" The word caught in his dry throat, barely a rasp.

"Yeah, you know, the sole survivor? And I alone survived to tell the tale? Oh, never mind. But it would be nicer to have a name."

He swallowed against the rawness, trying for more of a voice. "Turk."

"That's your name? Turk?" He nodded and watched in fascination as Isaac shook his head, dark hair fanning his cheeks. "Of course it is. No soft sibilants or lingual sounds for you. Oh, no. Nothing but hard, strong sounds. You probably have a last name that would hurt to say."

Turk drew a slow breath, trying to keep up with events. His head ached. "Always… talk so much?"

"Only when I'm nervous or pissed off."

"Which?"

"Which is it now? Oh, nervous, definitely." Isaac shifted, head cocked to one side. "Not that strange men usually make me this nervous."

"But… I do." He forced his attention away from the captivating face. Isaac was in uniform, burgundy with gold piping. He couldn't match the colors with any unit he knew. Whose hands had he fallen into? "Water?"

"Oh, shit." The beautiful smile fell. "Of course you want water. Damn. Hang on."

Turk eased his head back to the bed, waiting. Something pinned his hands and feet. In his weakened condition, he had little hope of breaking a magnetic or even a physical barrier. Isaac came back into view, water bottle in hand. A sharp, electric jolt ran down Turk's spine when an elegant, golden hand slipped behind his head to help him drink. He had no business thinking about those hands.

"Better?"

"Thank you." Why did he have to be so kind? It would make what he had to do so much harder. He closed his eyes on a sigh, gauging the remaining strength in his wasted body. "Back hurts. Need to…"

"Stupid restraints," Isaac muttered. "They should've at least left you one hand free so you could shift a little."

He chewed on a sensuously full lower lip, considering, as Turk watched in helpless fascination. Isaac's jaw clenched as he seemed to come to a decision. He reached over and pressed the pad to unlock Turk's left wrist. The moment he regained movement, Turk lunged. He seized Isaac by the throat, applying enough pressure to constrict his airway.

"What unit? What battle group? Whom do you serve?"

Isaac's fingers scrabbled at his hand, his eyes wide and desperate.

"Don't… please…"

"Who are you?"

"Not… military," Isaac choked out, his coloring edging up from pink to crimson.

"Liar," Turk growled. "Implant. Fighter pilot. Behind your ear."

"Ex-Altairian… fleet…" Isaac gasped, struggling to pull away. He was strong but not large enough to break Turk's grip. "Bad… implant. Discharged… this is… commercial ship… courier…"

His eyes rolled back and his body went limp as if someone had stolen his bones. Turk let him slide to the floor, his heart racing. With his free hand, he unlocked the rest of his restraints and rolled to peer over the edge of his bed. Isaac lay crumpled on the decking, the shadows of his thick, black lashes caressing his cheeks.

No insignia, no rank designation, a courier ship… what have I done?

"A Bear on Books" on...

2012-02-02T10:19:00.001-06:00

…what defines a romance novel.

I’ve been going back and forth this week between writing about something pithy (no, I didn’t suddenly develop a lisp) and light, and something that reared its nasty little head (Shut. Up. Kage.) earlier in the week. And I realized that the fact this issue kept turning itself over in my thoughts meant I needed to talk about it.

A thread on Facebook in the IRM chat, of all things, has me thinking about what defines an m/m work as “romance”. Because let’s face it, most of the m/m genre falls into two, maybe three buckets. Romance, erotica and porn. I happen to like all three, and they all have their uses. And I am not really sure how to differentiate between erotica and romance except, for me, it kinda sorta bridges the gap between romance and porn.

But I digress - back to the FB thread. It’s about how a book that featured rape, torture and, at best, dubious consent, had made a writer friend "disgusted". Said writer also had issues with characters, storyline and most everything else about the book, but it was the “R” word that was the hot button. And the feedback in the thread was pretty supportive of the writer and the facts as they were framed.

The writer who posted the comment also never finished the book, and stated that the reviews raving about it were mystifying. Why is this a problem for me? Because, dear reader, I read that book and gave it a Very Highly Recommended review on my blog. And my recommendation was partly the reason the writer had bought the book in the first place.

(I promise I’m getting to the point. Just circling the airport…)

I immediately went back and re-read my review to make sure I didn’t mess up and leave the rape and torture parts out. Nope, they were there. I even called it “intense”, “horrifying” and said I “was one sentence away from vomiting from the…dread”. I think I was pretty clear what the reader was getting into.

And hear me on this, if nothing else. I won't defend any review I ever write. Reading's a very personal matter for me. I like what I like, and my blog is about books that I read that touched me in some way. If you agree, great. If not, great. There are about a billion other blogs out there. Find one that you can get behind. Doesn’t have to be mine. I’m blessed that even one person thinks what I have to say mught be valuable.

But make no mistake, it’s my opinion. And like my Momma said, opinions are like assholes – everybody has one and they all usually stink.

I’ll land the plane now though. My point, convoluted as it may be, addresses – can books that have a controversial theme or feature taboo subjects like rape, torture, murder, even bdsm, child or domestic abuse be considered “Romance” within the genre?

As an example, Patricia Logan wrote an excellent novel, Captive Lover, which had as a villain a pedophile. (Dmitri, his victim, was the MC of her next book, A Very Good Year.) Were the acts of Marcus, the evil so-and-so, vile and disgusting? Did they make me want to strangle him myself? Did they make me want to put the book down in horror?

Are those novels m/m romance?

In my humble opinion, which with fiddy cents’ll get you a cup of coffee (God, that shows my age, but I ready can’t get my fingers to type four ninety five for a cup of coffee), the answer is yes. If the characters in the work form an emotional connection and enter into some kind of relationship, then it qualifies as a romance.

Now, I do have to qualify this and say that the focus of the work has to be on the relationship, and not on the gratuitous titillation of the subtheme. In other words, if the two guys use a feather in their play, and it adds to their relationship, it’s romance. If they use the whole bird just to shock the reader, not so much.

I think all books have to be taken individually and judged on their merits that way. In the case of the book I’m talking about above, the first two thirds were so uncomfortable to read that I really did get nauseated. The tension was so ratcheted up, for me, it made me twitchy.

But I had to ask myself, was it because of the subject, or the characters? Was I reacting to the situation, or did I care because I formed a connection to the people involved? That, more than anything, let me know I was reading a romance.

Because I cared about the boy who was, I thought, going to be killed. The character, not the violence, drove my reaction. The last third of the book went in a totally different direction with a twist, and made me re-evaluate some of my reactions to what I had already read. I’m sorry the author of the post missed that by not finishing the book.

But hey, bears are known for both their ferocity and gentleness. If I can be a contradiction, then a book sure as hell can be too. My advice – if you have a hot button issue, avoid a work with it as a theme. If not, expand your horizons. Love can be found in the most unexpected places.

Sharita, back to you at the anchor desk…

Tom

Guest Blogger: Charlie Cochrane

2012-01-31T00:06:00.000-06:00

So why does a straight, happily married mother of three write gay fiction?

The simple answer is that those are the stories which come into my head. And have done since I first started to make up tales to amuse myself. (I’ve always had an overactive imagination, and at last that has a constructive outlet.) I don’t imagine het romances or chick-lit or whatever, just gay men finding true love and maybe catching a murderer en route. I suspect that the seeds of things like the Cambridge Fellows Mysteries Series have been germinating in my bonce every time I’ve watched a film like “Another Country” or read a book such as “Death at the President’s Lodging” which has got some slashy scenes which left me wondering, “What if?”

The key thing which made those stories come out of my head and onto the page was discovering the Hornblower series of films. I defy anyone to watch them and tell me that Horatio and Archie aren’t in love. All those lingering looks and intense conversations... I (terrible confession ahead) started to write fanfic based on the series and, having cut my teeth on that, I began to create my own characters and settings. And, miracle of miracles, it turned out people wanted to read about those characters.

I’m clearly not a gay man (but then Tolkein was neither ent nor elf and I know Richard Adams isn’t a rabbit). I’ve always been absolutely up front about being a slightly crumbly mother of three whose choice of pen name was driven by taking two monickers she liked and putting them together. (Another author has my real name and my maiden name makes too smutty a pun for a writer of gay fiction.) I have to say that, given the e-mails I have from gay men who like my books, they don’t seem to have a problem with this.

So, how do these stories appear in my head and why do they seem to be accurate enough in their depiction of gay men to appeal? I think one of the contributory factors is that I’m a people watcher. Worse than that, I’m a people imaginer, by which I mean that I construct a story around the folk I see. “Where are they going, what are they doing? Are those two blokes who’ve got out of the car looking awkward because they’ve had a lovers’ tiff?”

I also have a magpie mind, so when I read biographies of or watch programmes about gay men (and I’ve read/seen plenty of them) I store away all sorts of things to use later on. A little scene from the life of Alan Turing or Wilfred Owen might appear in one of my tales, altered but at heart the same. I employ a litmus test by saying, “Is this behaviour consistent with what I know of Forster or Sassoon or Porter?” or whoever best fits the sort of era and setting I’m writing about. I hate stereotypes and there’s no such thing as a standardised gay male (nor indeed a het one) but I believe you have to create a credible characterisation. Gay men are not just women with willies. (And people who know me well will be falling about at my use of that word. I blame my daughters for being a bad influence.)

Which brings me to the last factor—the continual trail of young gay boys/men who’ve flitted through our house, one “gay best friend” or “gay housemate” after another, brought home by girls who, like their mama, appreciate the diversity of humanity. With inspiration such as them it would be a surprise if I didn’t write gay fiction.

Biog:
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries. She lives near Romsey but has yet to use that as a setting for her stories, choosing to write about Cambridge, Bath, London and the Channel Islands.
A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, and International Thriller Writers Inc, Charlie's Cambridge Fellows Series, set in Edwardian England, was instrumental in her being named Author of the Year 2009 by the review site Speak Its Name.

Links:
www.charliecochrane.co.uk
http://charliecochrane.livejournal.com/

Next release: Dreams of a Hero, Carina Press, 13th February.
Mild-mannered and unassuming, Miles is on a journey he never expected. After a visit to Greece with his partner, Roger, he begins to experience vivid dreams in which he travels back in history and takes on the role of avenging hero.
Roger notices Miles's newfound bravery during his waking hours and is concerned that his lover is changing into someone he doesn't recognize.
When they discover a gay-friendly café is being plagued by violent thugs, Miles is uncharacteristically determined to take action, no matter the cost. Roger argues it would be both dangerous and pointless to intervene, but Miles insists he's been called to fight an army, and now he's found one.

http://carinapress.com/blog/coming-soon/
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006IIX9VU

M/M Author Chat Recap on Blogtalk Radio

2012-01-30T03:00:00.000-06:00

Good morning. Welcome to IRM.

For those of you who missed the chat on blogtalk radio on Saturday, you missed a very lively conversation about how writers incorporate heroes, the characters they come up with as well as what happens during our various writing processes. I believe this is the 3rd one we’ve done and we’ve always managed to take up the whole 2 hours, talking about everything under the sun when it comes to writing world and the author’s market.

Cassandre Dayne, our hostess, asked us about our heroes and how we work them into our stories. I mentioned my newest story, You Don’t Ask We Don’t Tell writing as BLMorticia from Rebel Ink Press. My MC Cody McCayne is young southern man ashamed of his sexuality. Because of his affinity for a friend of his, Dari Kirk, he wants to do something drastic to change. In his words, to “get right” and become the man his overbearing father wants him to be. The hero I mention was the recruiter he meets, Justin Belevidere, who sends him to the right Army base, one where he’ll feel more comfortable and learn to accept his sexuality without fear.

To answer her question, I went further by adding my real life heroes are the gay men and women who’ve served in the armed force, still able to do their jobs, knowing they’d be under scrutiny of their peers and high ranked officers. In my opinion, it’s already hard enough to serve in any of the branches without the added pressure of a stupid law like DADT, just imagine what it was like with it hanging over your head.

All the writers which included our own Blak Rayne, Angel Martinez, along with Cassandre, Xakara, and Patricia Logan agreed that the heroes in our stories are everyone from everyday men who do hard jobs of fire men or policemen, to those who refuse to hide who they are. In addition, all authors agreed we like our heroes to be flawed, not pretty models all of the time, but with deep problems or hang-ups that drive the plot.

We also chatted about the method we use to come up with our characters. I mentioned how sometimes looking at a photograph might jar my imagination and I’ll dream of characters because they want their own story. Blak mentioned how music moves her more than pictures, and Xakara talked about how a picture limits her and she’d rather be inspired by music and or her surroundings. We delved into the lengths to which we go for our stories. How we research from reading things on the net, to actually going further just to achieve what our characters smelled, tasted, or heard. Xakara mentioned going to stories to find certain things just so she can describe it in her books. I found that fascinating because I’d never thought to do that.

As the conversation went on, we chatted about the differences of writing het, m/m, or ménage. For the exception of Cassandre and me, who have delved into the het arena, the others mentioned how it was somewhat of a chore. Recently, Xakara did an MFM and mentioned how hard it was to complete. Patricia applauded Cassandre for her efforts because she's able to jump back and forth with ease. I agreed, since my own het shorts were harder than I thought when I finished and even though I got them done, I still felt apprehension as to whether the story was completed to the best of my ability. Apparently, my peers think so as well so I’m not alone.

Lastly, we discussed boundaries of authors and publishers. How far would we or the company go to get the story published. Across the board, we agreed as long as it was done tastefully and was in the writer’s heart to draft, then by all means do it. Patricia brought up her book Captive Lover that has a pedophile as the villain. Despite the controversial plotline, the book was a bestseller for Patricia and I can attest, the novel is very well written. As long as there is a story for it then it should be done.

Throughout, I believe all of us learned a lot about each other, our styles of writing, how they are similar and different. A lot of good points were made and if you get a chance, please listen to it on podcast to hear what some of your favorite authors think and the next time we have them, make sure you join us onsite in the chat. Several fellow writers or readers have asked questions that Cass will bring up to the group to talk about; makes for a lively conversation for everyone involved.

Hope you enjoyed this small recap and go have a listen. Happy Monday!

Forensics 201 (3)

2012-01-29T00:12:00.000-06:00

"Good morning Mr.Smythe," said the officer when Gavin introduced himself, holding out hishand. "I'm detective Johnson, a member of the Judicial District homicidetask force. One of two," he added with a wry smile. "My partner isout of town at the moment."

"And this is NilesRichards, my assistant," Gavin replied. He looked around the small frontoffice of the sheriff's department. "I have the basic information you sentme but, obviously, would like full details and to see the physical evidenceyou've found."

"Of course, if you'llfollow me." Once they entered his office and were all seated he tapped athin folder before sliding it across the desk to Gavin.

"The body of Billie JeanOskarman was found face down in a snow bank on November second of this year.She was about 20 feet off the highway and several hundred yards south of theparking lot for a lookout point at the top of the pass. From all appearancesshe tried to fight off her attacker in the lot and then ran for her life."

Gavin nodded as he studied apicture in the file of the victim as she'd been found. "You're presuminghe'd been in the process of restraining her with plastic ties when thathappened?" He tapped the photo, showing Niles what he was referring to, the tie thatwas still on one of her wrists.

"Yes," Johnsonreplied. "He shot her to death as you can see. One gunshot wound to thechest, a second grazing her right breast, at a range of one to two feet."

"Who found her?"

"Tourists heading tothe overlook."

"Hell of a vacationmemento," Nilesmuttered softly.

"Indeed," Johnsonreplied before continuing. "Her keyring was found in the parking lot, sothe thinking is she managed to escape from the car and then she ran downhillbefore being confronted by her killer again."

"Any reason to believethat she actually did try to fight off her attacker?"

"Presumption based onthe fact that we found her bloodstained wool glove and a bloodstained tissueabout two hundred yards from the lot. We think she probably fell there from thelook of things. Why she removed the glove then, if she did, is unclear."

"Did she have a purseor backpack? Perhaps she was trying to get something out of it that she coulduse to defend herself."

"There was a backpacklying a few yards from her body but there was nothing in it I'd consider apotential weapon. There was also one orange sock close by. We haven'tdetermined if it was connected to her or left there by someone sometimeearlier in the day."

"What about the bloodon the glove and tissue?"

"From the same person,a male."

Gavin thumbed through thepictures in the file of the evidence which had been collected and scanned thereports. Finally he looked at Johnson. "Do you have any suspects sofar?"

"We have one possiblesuspect, her ex-husband. He apparently made some unspecified threats againsther during the divorce," Detective Johnson replied. "The problem is wehaven't been able to locate him so far. There's another thing to factor in aswell, she was last seen at the Quiki-Mart trying to thumb a ride down themountain. It seems she did that fairly often from what the clerk said. Cheaperthan driving up here herself but damned stupid. It's too bad one of our mendidn't see her. She'd have been sitting in a cell on hitchhiking chargesinstead of being murdered."

"Obviously then yourprimary suspect would be whoever picked her up. Did anyone see it happen?"

Johnson shook his head."It was getting dark so the clerk couldn't see her all that well becausethe lights were on in the store. She did see headlights pull up at least twice,and the next time she actually made it a point to see if Miss Oskarman wasstill trying to find a ride the woman was gone."

"All in all it looks asif you have things under control. If you want I'll look at the actual physicalevidence you collected but my first instinct it to say that you need to findthe husband and compare his blood type with what you've got on that glove. Andthat I'm certain isn't telling you anything you don't already know."

Johnson nodded. "Noit's not. I guess I was hoping you'd have some intuitive leap of logic thatwould say 'look at such and such a man as a person of interest'."

"You've run searchesfor similar attacks and homicides?"

"We have and nothing'sshown up that matches well enough to correspond one hundred percent."

Niles was listening intently to them, frowning. Gavin saw it and asked if he had come up with something. Niles shook his head, remaining quiet.

"Niles?" Gavin looked at himquestioningly.

"Really, I have nothingto add. I'll tell you what I was thinking about later."

Knowing he'd get nothingfrom him at the moment, Gavin nodded, turning back to Johnson. "May Iborrow this file so that I can study it at my leisure?"

"You can have it. It'sa copy of everything I've got so far."

"Thank you."Standing, Gavin held out his hand. "I'll go over it in detail and ifanything strikes me I'll call you immediately."

Johnson shook his hand,thanking him for coming, apologizing for the fact that it appeared to be afruitless trip.

"Not really,"Gavin told him. "If nothing else I'll consider it a mini-vacation. It'sbeen a while since I've been able to get away from everything and justrelax."

"You couldn't find abetter place than this to do it, especially if you like skiing," Johnsonsaid proudly as he walked with them out to the front door. "I'll wait foryour call, presuming you find something to call about, and hopefully youwill."

"We'll see." Gavinshook his hand. "But no promises."

Riptide Promo Rhianon Etzweiler

2012-01-28T02:00:00.002-06:00

Check out the previous excerpt over here at Ren Thompson’s blog (http://renthompsonishere.blogspot.com).

Chapter Nine: Dragulhaven

As it turns out, I was wrong in my assumption that Garthelle would entertain his guests at his flat. His formal residence is a massive stone construct on private grounds, crouching on a hillside overlooking the heart of the metropolis. It brings to mind pictures of castles in my childhood storybooks. No soaring spires piercing the sky or anything like that, but the embattlements are there.

As the limousine breaks through the tree line and crawls up the sinuous drive, the structure presents an imposing profile. It feels like a stone dragon nestled into the side of the earth, one who could at any moment decide to rouse from its nap, uncoil, and take to the sky. Perhaps that’s why, as I step out of the vehicle and wait for Jhez to join me, I feel compelled to whisper.

“Did you know this place was even here?” I hiss the question in her ear when she stops at my side to stare at the stone behemoth.

When she nods, I stare at her in disbelief. She turns to me, the beginnings of a frown tugging at her lips. “Only vaguely, but I remember references to Dragulhaven from . . .” Her sentence trails off and Jhez turns her gaze back to the building towering before us. “Years ago.”

Though I’ve no notion of what she’s alluding to, her tone doesn’t do anything pleasant for my nerves. With a quavering sigh, I grab her hand and give it a squeeze before heading for the entry. Jhez doesn’t resist, but there’s a distinct lack of willingness in her demeanor. Makes two of us. Guess I just have more guts than her. Or a weaker sense of self-preservation.

Polished heavy wooden doors groan faintly as they swing inward at our approach. A gust of air from within wafts past, carrying traces of incense, spices, strains of instrumental music, and muted voices.

The foyer’s sole source of light is a chandelier suspended from the domed ceiling, and the fixture threatens to overwhelm the castle’s architectural design. Obviously, whoever was responsible for the decor didn’t carry it out with the intention of historically accurate restoration. While certainly noteworthy, the chandelier is nothing short of gaudy.

A blatant pronouncement of the wealth in residence. Here there be dragons.

It doesn’t bode well for the décor in the rest of Dragulhaven, and I find it difficult to believe Garthelle is the responsible party. Every time I try, I end up with energy-memories of his black flat flashing along my nerve endings, flooding my senses. Of course, the residual incense in the air may very well be triggering them.

Though my knowledge of him is shallow at best, he doesn’t strike me as the gaudy sort. That chandelier? Not him. I want to think better of him than that. Despite the fact that he’s dangerous—or perhaps because of it?—I find myself attracted to him. It’s just simple lust, I’m sure. The intrigue of the unknown.

I lean toward Jhez so my words don’t echo through the vaulted chamber. “I wonder who else lives here?”

The corner of her mouth curls up in a smirk, but before she can respond, the staccato rap of footsteps on the marble floors announces someone’s approach. The corresponding thrum of the energy in my veins names it Garthelle. Like the faint tingling one feels as blood floods back in to circulate through a numbed limb. Perhaps that’s the only reason why I feel this inappropriate attraction. The lack of pain associated with his presence; to my body, he’s a drug.

When he appears through one of the archways on the far side of the chamber, he halts. An uneasy silence ensues. I don’t look at him. Instead, I make a deliberate study of the scrollwork edging the domed ceiling.

“The twins have arrived, Monsieur,” the butler behind us intones. “I was just about to come find you.”

“No need.” Garthelle’s reply is hushed but clearly audible.

The butler executes a very precise nod of assent, inclining his torso a fraction. I wonder if he practices that angle in front of a full-length mirror. His retreat is just as measured, heels clacking steadily on the marble. As the butler’s tread fades, it only intensifies the strain of the silence.

Odd. The vampire seems to be waiting for something. Reaching out with my aura, cautiously, only gains me the impression that he’s reluctant to venture any closer. That’s enough to make me frown. Granted, reluctance isn’t fear, but they’re close relations. I take a few seconds to get my facial expression back under control. Take a few measured breaths, hoping with each one that the next won’t be laced with incense. Damned energy-memories. One particularly deep breath causes the entire domed foyer to disappear for a heartbeat. Having the world flash black-lit black isn’t pleasant.

When I lower my gaze, his eyes draw mine immediately, holding my attention by sheer force of will. Given his ability to influence the energy throbbing through me, it’s not surprising. Such a simple form of torture it represents: Kill someone without getting one’s hands messy. Without leaving a single shred of evidence. Knowing what he can do, that newfound awareness of what his kind is capable of makes me fear him, all vampires, that much more.

He doesn’t look any different tonight, which strikes me as odd—on some level, I expected he would make an effort to impress his guests with his appearance. Yet the only alteration is his shirt, a black silk that shimmers in the chandelier’s light. And this evening he’s making full use of all but the uppermost button. A medallion rests against his chest, glowing silver nestled against the silk.

The vampire’s gaze pulls away from me, shifting to take in Jhez’s presence. “Good evening . . . shall I call you Black and Red, then?”

That has to be the most pathetic barb at our selection of attire imaginable.

“My name is Black.” Despite the abrupt surge of disdain crawling up my throat, I manage to keep my voice neutral.

“That would be an interesting gimmick,” Jhez deadpans. Her outfit, a dark and tainted hue resembling drying blood, was a selection she deliberated over excessively, in my opinion. Garthelle’s gaze flickers between us, considering. As if in the throes of an internal debate. His lips purse into a thin line and he appears to freeze, motionless. Beside me, Jhez clears her throat. I’m rather intrigued though, and tilt my head slightly, watching him. He blinks and studies my sister, then rolls his shoulders.

“I was prepared to offer you the use of the guest wardrobes. I can see now it’s not necessary. Come with me, please.” He pivots and walks back through the entryway from which he appeared.

Don’t forget to leave a comment with your email address to enter the drawings! See you tomorrow over at Literary Nymphs (http://literarynymphshotlist.blogspot.com) for the next excerpt, the second half of chapter nine!

And of course, if you just can’t wait, you can get your own copy of “Blacker Than Black” over here at Riptide.

For more info on Rhi’s writings:

Email address: RhiAnon.Etzweiler@gmail.com

Website: http://www.RhiAnonEtzweiler.com

Blog: http://RhiAnonEtzweiler.blogspot.com

Twitter: @musefodder

Facebook Profile: here

Goodreads Profile: here

GR Q&A group: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/58149

Amazon Author Page: here

Google+ Profile: here

Get “Dark Edge of Honor” here

BTB Promo Blog Tour Posts Index and Contest Details.

January 23 - Miz Love (guest post) - http://www.mizlovelovesbooks.com “Tools of the Trade”

24 – Dawn’s Reading Nook (interview) http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/

24 - Alex Whitehall (has info from delayed appearance during blog tour) - http://creative-whimsy.blogspot.com

25 - Amara's Place – interview and special (unrelated) excerpt (she has them.) http://amaras-place.blogspot.com

26 – Jadette Paige (guest post) “what’s in a name.”

26 - Top to Bottom (guest post) - http://top2bottomreviews.wordpress.com Excerpt #1, ch7

27 - Ren Thompson (gust post) - http://renthompsonishere.blogspot.com Excerpt #2, Ch8

28 - It's Raining Men (guest post) - http://rainingmenamen.blogspot.com Excerpt #3, Ch9Pt1

30 - Your own site – special post (I’ll think of something, I’m sure.)

30 - Literary Nymphs - See below for questions - http://literarynymphshotlist.blogspot.com Excerpt# 4, Ch9Pt2

31 - Louisa Bacio (excerpt or guest post, not explicit) - http://louisabacio.blogspot.com Excerpt #5, Ch10

Feb. 1 - Riptide Ripples - excerpt/cover/links - http://riptidepublishing.com/blog . Excerpt #6, Ch11Pt1

2 - Emme Addams - http://bitchfactor10.blogspot.com Excerpt #7, Ch11Pt2

Prizes:

Individual: One randomly selected commenter at each stop will receive a signed cover card and magnet. Open to all, regardless of location (winner selected from all comments posted to blog at 11:59pm EST).

Tour: Two winners to be selected at random from drawing of all comments on tour (entry ending Feb. 2^nd, 11:59pm EST – comments with date/time stamps after this time will not be counted). Restricted to mainland US and Canada only, for shipping purposes. First winner will receive an autographed tote bag and pen, signed cover flat, and large magnet. Second winner will receive a t-shirt (size XL), pen, signed cover flat, and small magnet.

Saturday SHOUT

2012-01-28T00:00:00.000-06:00

Here's some new books coming out this week.

If you'd like to submit your books for Saturday Shout, please email me at Michaelmandrake71@gmail.com

Post on the FB Raining Men Page

Angel’s Off The Beaten Track Reviews #2

2012-01-27T03:22:00.001-06:00

Cambridge Fellows Mysteries #8: All Lessons Learned by Charlie Cochrane

Why is this story here? Two reasons. First we have its status as a historical. I hear you. Historical romance is a dollar a dozen these days (sorry, a dime won't buy you a dozen anything.) But what we have flooding the market are endless Regencies and Victorians and Greco/Roman era romances. Most of the CF Mysteries are set in the first years of the 20th century, with this final one set directly after World War I, somewhat less trampled ground. The second is that it is neither traditional mystery not traditional romance. There is no budding relationship. There is no murderer to be found.

About a year ago, I fell in love with Jonty and Orlando, the Cambridge Fellows in question. Some of the mysteries were more engaging than others, some were more of a backdrop for other issues. There aren't a lot of action hero sequences (although both our boys have shown incredible courage from time to time) and neither one of our heroes could be described as the traditional romance Alpha. But the growth of these two young men, both their personal growth and that of their relationship has been fascinating to watch. It is through the dynamics of their friendship that we come to love them.

Charlie manages to recreate the gentility of the time period. The civilized and very British to the core nature of both setting and character are presented flawlessly. This is what historical fiction is truly about-the transportive quality that takes us out of our own time and allows us to sample another with all of our senses. Most of the CF stories have a light hearted core to them, even when there are serious subjects to deal with. This last one has very little of that. We begin the story with Jonty dead, after all. (And no, I'm not engaging in spoilership - this is quite evident from the book blurb already.)

There are two mysteries for Orlando to solve, one regarding the fate of a stranger and the other regarding what truly happened to his Jonty. His struggles, his turmoil, his need either to find some purpose or to give up altogether are all heartbreaking. But the whole subject matter is heartbreaking, the terrible number of young men lost to that war, particularly in the last year of it, war like none the world had ever seen. Certainly, war has always been a filthy, horrific business, but WWI raised the level of horror, with it's dreadful new weapons and the sheer scale and futility of trench tactics, to such a degree that we ended up having entire branches of psychology born from it.

And all of this, Charlie portrays so well, even though it's through the eyes of characters in the aftermath. If I have any niggles with the story, they lie in certain bits of contrivance, of a few things that are perhaps too convenient and too well-timed. But this story isn't about the mystery. You'll have most of it solved before Orlando does. It's about survival in the face of horrific damage to body and soul, about the strength of the human heart and the amazing resilience of the human mind.

I've messaged back and forth with Charlie a few times in loop chats and she asked me once if I preferred Jonty or Orlando. My answer was that Jonty appeals to the creative side and Orlando to the analytical, which is, in part, the truth. I love them both, the darling rogues.

A truly heartfelt 88% for this one. Have the tissues close by. You'll need them. But you won't regret it.

On that I'll leave you with a link to one of my favorite versions of Willie McBride. It's angrier than most, but I think that's more appropriate:

Willie McBride - Jake Burns

Spend Some Time On The Range

2012-01-26T02:00:00.000-06:00

Blurb:

The last thing Liam Southard expects when he flees his abusive father is to be taken in by a couple of gay ranchers. Soon he has a new job and a new perspective on his sexuality, and his life starts to turn around. Then someone pulls a gun on him.

In Troy Gardener’s defense, the gun thing was a mistake. Between his marriage falling apart and living in his uncle's isolated hunting cabin, he's been a little edgy. He wants to make it up to Liam, and once he discovers how much they have in common, he wants even more. But with Liam's father popping in unexpectedly and a mining company threatening the ranch’s water supply, the only guarantee is that life is never going to be boring.

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press

Excerpt:

“Is that a lion?” Liam could hardly believe his eyes.

Wally laughed softly. “We have three lions and four tigers right now. I try to find permanent homes for them with zoos and animal parks, but some of these guys are so old, no one wants them.” Wally stepped close to one of the doors and watched as a large male lion with an impressive mane loped over to him, yawning. “This is Manny. He’s getting quite old, but don’t let him fool you or think he’s a pet, because he’s a wild animal, and unpredictable. The first lion I got was Schian, and he loved to have his belly scratched. He was the only one I ever trusted enough to be in the cage with, and even then I was always wary. He died a little over a year ago.” Liam saw the loss momentarily in Wally’s expression, and he couldn’t help wondering what a full-grown lion looked like and sounded like when he had his belly scratched.

“What do you want me to do with them?” Liam took a step back from the cage as Manny let out a roar that echoed over the land before settling back down onto the ground. “You must think I’m crazy.”

Wally chuckled again. “You need to be wary and careful, but never afraid. Manny is just reminding himself that he’s a big boy. He thinks all these cats are part of his pride and that he’s the head honcho.” Wally moved to the next cage. “There are four enclosures in each group, with a shared exercise area. All you need to do is open the gate in the cage, and they’ll amble out when they’re ready. I try to give each one a chance in the yard every day.” Wally stopped at an enclosure with the most beautiful cat Liam had ever seen.

“Wow,” Liam mouthed.

“She’s impressive, isn’t she? That’s Shahrazad. She’s a Bengal tiger. She’s also the biggest bitch I’ve ever had. Don’t get too close to the enclosure under any circumstances,” Wally warned.

Liam had no intention of getting anywhere near her. “Then how do you feed her?” Liam asked tentatively, and Wally opened a chute in the back of the cage. “The food goes in here and the water here.” Wally showed him what he needed to do. “Once every few days, we enclose each animal in the common area and clean its cage.” Wally stopped talking and looked at Liam appraisingly. “Do you think you can do this? It requires vigilance and patience.”

Liam nodded slowly. “I never thought I’d be taking care of lions and tigers.”

“There’s more,” Wally explained, and he began to lead him away. By the time Wally had told him all about the care of big cats and the other exotic animals he had, Liam’s head was spinning. “I know this is a lot, so we’ll work together for a while. I’m not expecting you to do this alone, but I get called away, and I don’t want to worry about their care.”

“I can do it,” Liam answered with more confidence than he felt. If it meant food and a roof over his head, Liam could do just about anything. Manny roared again, making Liam jump slightly, and then all the other cats began growling, and Liam saw many of them pacing their cages. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. They sense something. Look at the way their ears are down and their hair stands on edge. Something has them all a bit spooked.” Wally began looking around; Liam did as well.

“There’s smoke,” Liam said pointing up into the hills surrounding the ranch. “The wind must be carrying the scent this way. It doesn’t look like the forest is on fire.”

“No, but that’s still a lot of smoke, and as dry as it’s been, that fire could spread and take out the entire ranch and half the valley.” Wally was already hurrying back toward the house.

“What are you going to do?’ Liam asked as he followed behind, and Wally stopped, like he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Like I said, I don’t think the forest is on fire—the smoke isn’t moving or spreading. If you tell me the way, I could try to go up there and see what’s up,” Liam offered. He didn’t want to sit around doing nothing when he could be of help.

“There’s not much up there. I think Dakota told me once that there was a track up there at the end of the road on the west edge of the ranch, but I’ve never been up there.” Wally turned and looked at the smoke again, worry plain on his face.

“Is it okay if I take one of the ATVs? I can ride out there and see what’s going on. It shouldn’t take very long,” Liam offered, and Wally nodded absently. There wasn’t any reason to assume it was anything other than someone camping up there, although it seemed to Liam that there was too much smoke for just a campfire.

“Go on, but be careful,” Wally cautioned, still looking worried.

Liam hurried to the equipment shed and hopped on the ATV he’d used before, grateful that he was doing something that didn’t involve animals that could rip him apart. He started the engine and pulled out of the shed, traveling along the road in front of the ranch before turning down a dirt road at the end of the range that went back toward the hills. The warm, dry air ruffled his hair as he opened the throttle until the road appeared to end at a path just wide enough to allow the ATV to pass. Liam slowed and began to climb steadily up the hillside. Through breaks in the overgrowth, Liam could occasionally see the plume of smoke getting closer and closer.

Liam dove carefully, mindful of washouts and limbs across the path. A few times, he had to move limbs before he could pass, and as the trail got thinner, Liam began to wonder how he’d turn around if he couldn’t go any further. Then the trail dumped him onto what looked like a two-trackthat appeared to have been used recently, and Liam turned. He hadn’t gone far before he began to smell the odor of something unpleasant burning. Liam wrinkled his nose as he continued up the path, the scent becoming more pervasive and strong enough that his eyes began to water and his nose to run. What in hell could be burning?

Finally, Liam rode to the edge of a clearing where he saw a large fire burning in a pit, the smell making him gag, and he tried his best not to throw up. Of course, he forgot all about that when he saw a man approach him, a rifle leveled at his chest. Liam didn’t know what to say and sat totally still as he watched the man walk toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“I… we saw the fire, and it was dry, so I was just checking it out,” Liam answered nervously and watched as the gun wavered for a second before slowly lowering.

“You’ve done that, so now I suggest you leave.”

Relieved that the man was no longer pointing a gun at him, Liam looked at him and felt his mouth drop open. He removed his helmet to get a better look. Beneath the rough clothing and hard eyes was the most beautiful man Liam had ever laid eyes on.

20 SEX FACTS - BELIEVE IT OR NOT?

2012-01-25T02:07:00.001-06:00

Most you're probably familiar with, but perhaps not. I just thought I'd list these for fun.

1–Supposedly,if a man watches several men and a woman getting it-on-together his sperm countincreases versus just watching women.

2–The reasonpubic hair only grows to a manageable length is due to its ‘growth program’. The‘growth program’ determines the duration of growth therefore also the length.

3–Spermprotein tightens the skin, helping to reduce wrinkles.

4–Sex canactually cure a headache by raising the level of endorphins in the body, whichact as a natural painkiller.

5–Thefirst condoms were made from animal intestine.

6–Sex ona regular basis can actually help you lose weight.

7–Womenwho have sex frequently have smoother skin, and silkier hair due to theestrogen boost.

8–Supposedly,85% of men who die of a heart attack during sex, regularly cheat on theirpartner.

9–1% ofthe world’s population claim to be asexual.

10–Humanshave the largest penis in the primate world.

11–The averageman will ejaculate 18 quarts of semen in life.

12–The average erectionis 5 ½ to 6 inches long; the smaller ones (when soft) expand more when erectthan the larger ones.

13–Dolphins have sex for fun.

14–Having sex a couple times a week can boost the immune system.

15–Supposedly, the man is more likely to be tied up during sex. (Givesus all hope lol)

16–Early civilization believed masturbation led to blindness.

17–King Edward VII was so big he had a special table built so he couldhave sex.

18–Roman Emperor Nero, used to dress up young boys in his dead wife’sclothes and have sex with them.

19-Male bats have the highest rate of homosexuality in the animal kingdom.

20-The black widow spider will devour her mate after sex.

Happy Yaoi Hunting!

Blak Rayne

http://www.blakraynebooks.com

http://blakraynebooks.blogspot.com

Book Review - "First Flames" (Fireside Romance, Book One) by Drew Hunt

2012-01-24T00:05:00.000-06:00

This month's book review is of the novel by Drew Hunt, a British writer from Northern England. I have had the pleasure of reading a number of Mr. Hunt's books in the last year, and enjoyed them all. However when I read “First Flames”, I was struck by the tenderness and honesty of this novel.

I would guess that just about every writer of male/male fiction, especially romances, has tried his or her hand in a story about a hustler, or his john, or both. (Not all of us bother submitting the results. I haven't!) Mr. Hunt's treatment of this theme is the most unique one I've encountered.

Perhaps what makes this story so powerful is that it is told from the point-of-view of Simon, a librarian in a small town in England who is openly gay, but lacks self-confidence. In fact, he has a very low opinion of himself as a man and has never had sex. Simon's entire world revolves around his work and his one friend, Mary, his coworker and best friend. His saving grace is a sharp sense of humor about himself and the world, which Mary shares. He makes himself laugh when he tells us: "Yes, I had low self-esteem. My confidence had pretty much reached rock-bottom, and had purchased a pneumatic drill and was beginning to excavate." I went around reading that sentence to people all week long, since I was so jealous that I had not written it :-).

The story begins with lonely Simon's decision to hire the services of a "rent boy" from the back streets of his town. He approaches a handsome young man, dressed in clothes that looks too small and inadequate for the weather, hiring him to spend two hours just talking, and perhaps kissing and cuddling. This hustler, who calls himself "Jim" is unfazed by this request. He appears to enjoy his time with Simon, which they spend watching a video of the movie "South Pacific". When the agreed time is up, "Jim" volunteers to stay longer at no extra cost, and they prepare and eat a meal together in front of the fire. The young man confesses that his real name is Mark; he uses "Jim" to keep a distance from customers, but he'd decided that he likes Simon, so he decided to tell him the truth.

The next day at work, Mary can tell that Simon is excited and happy. When he finally tells his best friend what he had done the night before, she is cautiously supportive. Some time later, Simon returns to the streets seeking Mark, who appears happy to see him, and they repeat their "date".

As Mary becomes less available after finding a boyfriend of her own, Simon "dates" Mark periodically, never approaching any of the other "rent boys". If he goes to the street where they met and Mark is not there, Simon goes home alone. As their unusual relationship develops, Mark reveals more about his background. Due to his regional accent, Simon knew that he was from another part of England, but Mark reveals that after his mother died of cancer, he fled from an abusive alcoholic father, arriving in this town penniless. He had not come there on purpose; it given all his money to the clerk at the bus station, and asked for ticket to wherever that amount would take him and that is how we ended up in that town.

He also reveals his fear of his abusive and violent pimp. Simon offers to help him escape “the Life”, but Mark fears for the librarian's safety, so refuses.

Shortly before Christmas, Simon seeks out Mark, becoming concerned when he does not see him for a number of days in a row on his usual street corner. Finally, he asks one of the other "rent boys" about Simon and is told that he is in the hospital following an explosion that killed the pimp. The boys don't know how badly Simon is injured, but the tell him which ward in the hospital he is in. Simon rushes there to find both of Mark's hands bandaged from chemical burns, otherwise uninjured; the pimp had decided to try to brew some drugs, and Mark had become burned trying to help him and the men with him.

Simon speaks to the nurse, discovering that the only reason Mark is still in the hospital is that there is no place for him to go, since his unable to care for himself. Simon insists on taking the young man home with him, offering to provide personal care for him until he is recovered while aware that this includes taking care of his body. Mark agrees, and a new period of emotional intimacy begins, with Simon vowing to never let his young friend know that he is in love with him. The librarian takes some vacation time to be able to provide constant care for the man he loves.

Mark reveals more details about his past which confirm his preference for men. He is affectionate and friendly, confusing Simon further. His mother had been dying of cancer over the previous two Christmas seasons, so Simon decides to make an exciting Christmas for them together, with some help from the very supportive Mary, whose boyfriend is away for the holiday.

Simon refuses to make Mark feel obligated to return his love, so he goes out of his way to "keep things light" between them. Mark is the one who finally says "I love you" on Christmas morning, inspired by the inscription Simon had written on a copy of "A Christmas Carol"which he had given to Mark as a gift. They spend the day together as Simon prepares the Christmas dinner, drawing for a while by Mary. Finally, Simon send Mary home, saying "I want to make love with my man here."

Mark confesses his total virginity and inexperience to his new boyfriend, who reassures him, saying "I want your first time to be perfect."

I knew from books by Drew Hunt which I had read previously that Mr. Hunt can write steamy sex scenes. I was struck by his bravery in ending this story without one. The book had started with a short dedication: "For everyone who crave sweets stories about love conquering all." He certainly delivered that.

I rate this story five stars for quality, and highly recommend it. If you're looking for a steamy story filled with sweetness and conflict by Mr. Hunt, try his "Drew's Cowboy", another winner.

Fireside Romance, Book One: "First Flames" by Drew Hunt is available from JMS Books' website at

http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29&products_id=237

The print version is available there, currently on a discount, at:

http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=7&products_id=238

Disclosure Note:

My last book, "My Big Brother", was published by JMS Books, LLC.

Manlove Monday - M/M Promo

2012-01-23T06:05:00.001-06:00

Good morning. So many great m/m romances are coming out these days, I can hardly keep up. o.0

So today I picked a few I'm looking forward to.

First, fellow NNP writer, John Simpson and his m/m romance, Pain and Revenge. Just released and already a Silver Star on ARe.

Read interview with John here.

Pain and Revenge

Gay/BDSM/Thriller/Suspense

Word Count: 15,767

Synopsis:

Rookie CIA agent James Elliot is sent to his first assignment in London, where he finds out that not only does the CIA know that he's gay, but that he's been brought in on an assignment precisely for that reason. James is thrown into a situation where he must seduce a Russian GRU Agent and find out what he's doing in England.

Warning: male/male forced sex scene that is intricate to the plot. Also spankings are the sadistic Russians specialty and the question is, "Can James Elliot hold out to finish the job?" The novella reaches a satisfactory conclusion as the answer to the question.

Excerpt from Pain and Revenge - John Simpson

I was just about to begin to fill him in on his assignment, shall I proceed?" Severs asked.

"Yes, by all means."

A photograph took up the entire screen at the other end of the table.

"This is Gregor Malakoff. He's just been brought in to the Russian Embassy as a "general trade," mission member but his real job is GRU, or the Glavnoye Razvedyvatel'noye Upravleniye also known as Russian military intelligence. As you know, the GRU is Russia's largest intelligence agency which also controls their "Spetsnaz," or Special Forces.

Here's what we have on him personally: He is 5'11, 190 pounds of solid muscle. He works out four times a week and is deadly when it comes to marshal arts. Brown hair, blue eyes. One more thing, he's gay. He has a preference for males of a slighter build, blond hair, blue eyes, on the submissive side, shorter or as tall as him but no taller, and between 145 pounds and 200. Oh, and he likes his men hung and preferably into leather type bedroom activities."

"And you're telling me all this detail, why?"

"Elliot, we know as the agency knows that you are gay. You have blond hair, blue eyes, are 5'10, 185, fairly well built. The only thing the agency doesn't know is if you're hung or not. Are you?"

"Am I what? Hung? Are you kidding me? You want me to go after this Malakoff sexually?"

"Are you hung?"

"Yes damnit! What if I weren't? Would that exclude me from this madness?"

"No, you would just have to try harder in other areas. Sorry to get so personal James, really am. However, it's vital that you become a honey pot for this man."

"A what?"

"It's an old expression in the spy business. Both sides would use good looking women who were agents to get next to their targets and suck information out of them as it were. This is the same principle using the male gender."

"Yeah, I understand. Only it won't be just information that I'll be forced to suck out of this dude."

"It's for the flag James, the women had to do the same thing and more."

"Why is this guy so important?"

"We need to find out why the GRU has sent a man here to London of all places. It's not the usual location for this type of agent. Your job is to find out how long he's going to be here, and why. You'll wanna get invited back to his flat since he doesn't stay at the Embassy, and find out what he has there. Your cover will be what it is. You're an accountant for an American company that imports both English and Scottish products to the states. It's all in your briefing file, including the bars this guy likes to hang out in."

"You'll be given the latest in listening devices so that we should be able to monitor you wherever you go and whatever you do."

"Wonderful. You said he was into leather stuff, like what?" James asked.

"He likes to frequent bars that engage in spanking and whips. London has about five such bars and he has his favorites."

"Oh my God! You mean to tell me that since I'm supposed to be submissive that this guy is going to be beating my ass on top of everything else?"

"It may come to that, yes I'm afraid."

"You're afraid? It won't be your ass or back that feels the beating. Damn!"

* * * *

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