Volley Balls

by Tara Lain

M/M/M Menage Contemporary

AVAILABLE July 1

Etopia Press http://www.etopia-press.net/

Excerpt PG-13:

David Underwood needs to go to AA – Alpha-lovers Anonymous, but his ogling of two Australian volleyball players on Laguna Beach gets him harassed and terrified he might be in for a repeat of his previous abusive relationship. Australian, Gareth Marshall needs to come out. A lifetime of hiding his orientation from his best friend and volleyball partner, Edge, as well as everyone else around him, has left him hurt and frustrated.When Gareth gets a load of David posing nude as the Micheangelo statue in the famous Laguna Pageant, he knows his hiding days are numbered. But Edge has his own secrets, and may just take them out on the two lovers. And David’s ex-lover has some nasty plans of his own. With everything stacked against them, can a flaming gay Laguna boy find happiness with an alpha male – or two?

Leaning against the wall by the door, blocking his exit, was “the friend.” The delicious, terrifying, dark-haired beach guy, sporting an inscrutable grin.

Holy shit.

David, half-scared and half-angry, demanded, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The grin got wider showing off white teeth that David kind of wished were the better to eat him with.

What was he thinking?

“I followed you.”

“You what? Jesus, get away from me. Let me out of here.” But David couldn’t force his leaden legs to get out the damned door. In fact, he stepped back a couple feet.

The guy pushed off from the wall and started toward him.

David put up his hands. “You’re nuts. You can’t get away with beating up gay men in Laguna. This isn’t some Neanderthal country. You’ll get arrested, do you hear me?”

The guy paused and frowned. “Who said anything about beating you up?”

“How about your fucking friend?”

The guy started toward David again. Shit, when you didn’t want them there were six guys in line at the urinal. Now? Nobody.

“Hey, he’s not me. Understand?” It sounded like understend.

The guy reached him and David pressed back against the wall. Trapped. Maybe he could slip to the side. David turned his head, but rough, callused fingers touched his cheek, then began a slow, exploratory caress over his cheekbones. “So perfect.”

David gasped. What did the guy say? “What?” He turned only his eyes toward the Aussie and saw him gazing at David’s face like some painting in his gallery.

“I saw you last night. At that art thingy. I thought you were perfect. These cheekbones, That ass. God, I wanted you so bad.”

What? What the fuck? Of all the fucking nerve… David shoved off the wall, hands firmly planted on his hips. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re gay? Running around harassing innocent people with that band of delinquents, and you’re a closet fag? Give me a break!”

“No, mate, give me a break.” And the guy’s hand slipped around David’s head and pulled him straight into strong arms.

A seeking mouth closed over his lips and the first touch robbed him of air.

David would have sputtered if he could breathe. His hands came up to push the guy away, but shit, the Aussie was strong. Those big hands held him still, not hurting him, but not letting him go, and soft, oh-so-soft lips stroked back and forth against David’s closed mouth. Then he felt a gentle tongue teasing at the tight seam of his closed mouth.

He tried to push away, honest he did, but oh my God…He moaned. This shouldn’t feel so good. The guy was a poser, an identity thief. David couldn’t want a man like this. Not again.… But he was hungry and those lips were a feast, a meal of luscious, delicious sweetness he hadn’t tasted is so-o-o long.

Maybe never. The tongue teased and pressed persuasively. Resist, resist…

Total surrender. David’s lips parted and that hot tongue pressed deep into his mouth. Every dormant cell flamed to life with heat and feeling, his cock leading the way. He couldn’t think. Too much smoke from the fire.

His hands slipped into that dark, silky mane as David fit his mouth more perfectly to the Aussie’s. That marauding tongue explored until it caressed David’s completely, teasing and dominating. A rough hand grabbed his butt and pulled him onto his tiptoes until his cock could fit beside the bigger man’s. Hard. Hot. They both went nuts, rubbing their cocks together. Oh shit, it felt good. He tasted so good. Pictures formed in David’s mind. Him dropping to his knees and sucking until the man’s eyes rolled up in his head. His body draped over the sink with the Aussie’s hot cock buried in his ass. Oh God, he wanted…

What the hell? What was he doing? Crap. No. No.

He ripped his mouth from the guy’s. The sheer unexpectedness of it gave David momentum to break away and take a few quick steps toward the door. “No, asshole. Get away from me. I do not do this. I don’t go with men who aren’t proud of who and what they are. Not anymore. Never again. Go back to your closet and play with your volleyballs.”

Find Tara Lain at -       http://www.taralain.com http://taralain.blogspot.com http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com Goodreads

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Between Sinners and Saints

by Marie Sexton

Publisher: Amber Allure
ISBN: 978-1-61124-121-1

Levi Binder is a Miami bartender who cares about only two things: sex and surfing. Ostracized by his Mormon family for his homosexuality, Levi is determined to live his life his own way, but everything changes when he meets massage therapist Jaime Marshall.

Jaime is used to being alone. Haunted by the horrors of his past, his only friend is his faithful dog, Dolly. He has no idea how to handle somebody as gorgeous and vibrant as Levi.

Complete opposites on the surface, Levi and Jaime both long for something they can only find together. Through love and the therapeutic power of touch, they’ll find a way to heal each other, and they’ll learn to live as sinners in a family of saints.

Buy “Between Sinners and Saints” by Marie Sexton: Amber Quill Press

Guest post from Marie:

I’ve been writing now for exactly two years. It’s a very short amount of time. I still feel like a novice in many way, but it’s long enough that I’ve begun to recognize the process I go through as my story goes from conceptualization to completion.

To date, I’ve published my Coda series, which includes three novels, two novellas, and a short story. I’ve also published a short story called One More Soldier, and my latest novel, Between Sinners and Saints. I have a fifth novel called Song of Oestend scheduled for release in August, and a novella about space pirates that is nearing completion. And through them all, I’ve generally followed this exact same pattern. I’m sure every writer has their own versions of these stages. I’d really love to hear how others differ. For myself, it goes something like this:

Stage 1: Conceptualization

The germination of the seed. The spark of life. Lights flickering in my brain. This stage is marked by me staring blindly into space for hours at a time. The TV, my husband, my child, the cat yowling at the door – nothing can break through my daze as I ponder characters and key moments in the story. I’ll go the grocery store and find myself standing in front of the shelves of ketchup, just swaying in the breeze. People look at me sideways and ask if I’m okay. (I’m not.)

This stage generally lasts anywhere from one to four weeks.

Stage 2: Taking the Plunge

This is the hardest stage for me, because it means COMMITMENT. In Stage 1, I can still allow myself to be distracted. I can pretend that maybe I won’t write this story at all. But once I sit down at the computer and start typing, everything changes. To date, I only have one book I’ve started but not finished, and I’m determined not to add to that number, and so I stall on actually starting for as long as I possibly can. Although this stage is huge hurdle for me, it’s short, and then it’s on to Stage 3.

Stage 3: Sex

Okay, it’s not really sex, but it is the FUN PART. If a book is like a baby (and in many ways, it is), then this stage is the lust-driven conception. Scenes come pouring out, frantic and sweaty and heart-poundingly exciting. They’re hot and fresh and sexy and just oozing with potential. They’re so great, I can’t wait to share them, and I find myself emailing bits and pieces to my long-suffering beta readers. This stage is like falling in love: the story is the last thing I think about when I go to sleep, and the first thing I think about the next morning. It’s perfect.

The duration of this stage varies. It generally lasts about as long as it takes me to write the first quarter of the story (however many words that may be).

Stage 4: The Grind

This is when reality sets in. This is when I start to realize how very much I still have to write. It’s also when I start to see the inconsistencies and the plot holes. This is the longest stage, but it’s not all bad. While many of the other stages are either very positive or very negative, this one is actually sort of a middle-ground. It involves more time staring into space. Frantic writing. Barely intelligible emails to writer friends. Many curses. But it’s good, because this is when I actually start to feel everything solidify. Characters start to be strong and true. Underlying themes and subplots begin to emerge and coalesce. I can practically feel the story taking form in my hands. This is the bulk of my novel-writing time, but eventually I emerge into…

Stage 5: OMG, I ROCK!!!

This is my second wind. It comes when the story is 90% complete. Everything’s in place. All that remains is some rounding of corners. Some smoothing of the rough edges. This is when the book is SO CLOSE to being complete I can hardly stand to sit still. It’s going to be great! I can’t wait to send it to my betas. I’m already imagining gushing emails from fans telling me that it’s my best story yet.

Unfortunately, this stage lasts a very short time before it devolves into…

Stage 6: The 3rd Trimester

I once wrote a blog post about the pure misery of this stage (you can read it here: http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com/2011/02/welcome-guest-blogger-marie-sexton.html). This is the point where I realize that the last 10% of the novel is probably going to kill me. It’s pure hell. I write and write and write, and yet I never get any closer to the end. Every morning when I get up, I say, “I’m going to finish this book today,” and every night when I go to bed, I say, “I’m never going to finish this mother f&*#ing book!” At this point, I’m ready to trash the entire thing. I hate the story. I hate the characters. I hate the entire world. I spend hours asking the universe why I EVER wanted to write a stupid book to begin with. I bitch and moan and gripe and complain, and my friends smile and nod and pat me on the head and push me onward until suddenly…

Stage 7: Ta-da!!!

Sound the trumpets! Break out the champagne! The first draft is complete! I send it off to my first round of beta readers with a mixed sense of pride and dread. And then, just like that, I’m on to…

Stage 8: EON (End of Novel)

EON is a term I stole from Heidi Cullinan, and it’s a really twitchy, neurotic time. First of all, I emerge from my writing cave to discover that my house has been visited by a hurricane in my absence. It’s a bit unnerving to realize the extent to which my writing has impacted my family. Dirty laundry is everywhere. Toys too. Every glass and coffee cup we own is dirty (but not pots, pans or plates, because I haven’t been cooking). My child has possibly not been bathed in a week and looks a bit like Newt when the Colonial Marines pulled her out of her rabbit-hole in Aliens. Unpaid bills are covering the countertop, and the only things left in the fridge are ketchup and styrofoam containers that hold leftovers I don’t remember bringing home.

But that’s not the worst part of EON. The worst part is the TWITCHES. Every few minutes I wander into my office. I sit down at my computer. I stare at it for a bit, waiting for something to happen. And I suddenly realize I have no idea what to do. The book is done. I have to wait for feedback before revising.

I check email. I check Twitter. I check Facebook. I check email again. I stare at the screen a bit more. I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I check my email one last time, and then I force myself to get up and do SOMETHING. And yet, a few minutes later, I find myself again at my desk, staring blankly at my computer. Luckily, this stage usually lasts less than a week, and in that time, I do manage to get my house back under control.

Stage 9: Editing, Revising, Submitting

Exactly what it sounds like. I love this stage. It’s very low-key, and I find it strangely satisfying. I can revise forever. I do it while watching TV, or between loads of laundry. I often let it drag out longer than I should, simply because I don’t want the journey to be over. But eventually I decide it must be finished. I grind out a blurb and synopsis. I address an email to whichever publisher or editor I’m sending it to. I stall some more. I revise some more. Finally, I take a deep breath and hit “send”.

Stage 10: Reboot

Unlike a lot of other writers I know, I rarely (if ever) have another project lined up. I have to kick back and wait for one to come to me. This stage is a bit like EON, but without the mess. I’m sort of twitchy, but sort of glad to be able to relax to. I watch a lot of TV. I catch up with friends. I spend time with my husband. Then one day, some random thought will snag in my brain, refusing to be swept downstream – a picture or a sentence or an idea. For Between Sinners and Saints, it was getting a massage and wondering if guys ever popped wood on the massage table. For Promises, it was nothing more than an image of two guys together in a hallway. Whatever it is, it piques my imagination. A light bulb goes on…

And then I’m right back where I started.

Buy “Between Sinners and Saints” by Marie Sexton: Amber Quill Press

About Marie Sexton:

Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular

young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and

enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along.

Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying

what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.

My website/blog: www.MarieSexton.net
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MarieSexton.author
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarieSexton
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3292500.Marie_Sexton
And be sure to join me for Coffee and Porn in the Morning: http://cupoporn.wordpress.com

Between Sinners and Saints

by Marie Sexton

Publisher: Amber Allure
ISBN: 978-1-61124-121-1

Levi Binder is a Miami bartender who cares about only two things: sex and surfing.  Ostracized by his Mormon family for his homosexuality, Levi is determined to live his life his own way, but everything changes when he meets massage therapist Jaime Marshall.

Jaime is used to being alone.  Haunted by the horrors of his past, his only friend is his faithful dog, Dolly.  He has no idea how to handle somebody as gorgeous and vibrant as Levi.

Complete opposites on the surface, Levi and Jaime both long for something they can only find together.  Through love and the therapeutic power of touch, they’ll find a way to heal each other, and they’ll learn to live as sinners in a family of saints.

Buy “Between Sinners and Saints” by Marie Sexton:  Amber Quill Press

Excerpt:  Between Sinners and Saints

The phone call had been a depressingly horrible start to his day. Several hours of surfing had driven away the worst of the depression, but left him feeling empty and tired. As he showered that afternoon, he realized how glad he was to be going to Jaime’s. This was his birthday, after all, and he was determined to enjoy the rest of it. A massage was exactly what he needed. He left his melancholy on the sun-soaked step of Jaime’s door. Just stepping into the dim back room of Jaime’s house made him feel better. The spicy oils he used lingered in the air and soft music played. Dolly came to greet him, despite Jaime’s good-natured scolding. And Jaime’s bright smile eased something deep inside his heart.

Jaime started the massage the way he often did, by putting his hands under the back of Levi’s neck and pulling gently, and Levi couldn’t help but laugh. “I think one of these days my head’s going to pop off while you’re doing that.”

“I hope not,” Jaime said. “It’s such a pain in the ass when that happens. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.”

It was easy to forget Jaime really did have a slightly dark sense of humor under his Boy Scout facade, and it made Levi laugh again. “Exactly how many times has it happened?”

“I’ve lost count to tell you the truth. But you’ll notice my garden gets a little bigger every year.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. On the bright side, my tomatoes love it. My neighbor keeps asking for my secret.”

Levi twisted back his head so he could up back into Jaime’s laughing blue eyes. “You really are sort of twisted and sadistic, aren’t you?”

Jaime smiled, but didn’t say a word.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You asking that instead of simply asking the question makes me inclined to say no.”

“Why do you hate to be touched so much?” He had his suspicions, but he wondered what Jaime would say.

Jaime’s didn’t meet his eyes, but Levi could see the wariness in them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Levi said, feeling that was an answer in and of itself. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m just wondering why you picked massage therapy as a career? It seems pretty counterintuitive to me.”

Jaime hesitated for a moment, and Levi thought he was going to dodge the question, but he sighed and said, “I’d probably be a hermit, if I allowed it. I’d sit in my house and do some kind of job on the computer and I’d never talk to anybody at all. But I know it wouldn’t be healthy.”

“So you picked a career that would force you to deal with people?”

“Exactly.”

“But you could have worked at the DMV, if that was all you wanted. Why something involving physical contact?”

“It’s not really like that,” Jaime said. “I’m not touching people. I’m just seeing flesh and muscle and bone. The body’s like a machine and sometimes it’s broken. And sometimes, I can fix it. That’s all.”

It was a sad statement. Jaime’s job was the only thing allowing him contact with people, and even then, he kept himself at a distance. Suddenly Levi knew exactly what he wanted to do. “You have any more clients after me?”

“No, you’re the last one of the day. Why?”

“You want to go out?”

Jaime shook his head. “Levi,” he scolded, “you’ve been so good lately. Don’t fall off the wagon now.”

“I don’t mean a date. I just mean, you know, two guys hanging out.”

Jaime moved around to his left side and started massaging his arm. He looked skeptical. “Why?”

“Because it’s my birthday.”

“It is not.”

“It is! You can check my license.”

Jaime moved down to his hand, rubbing the area between his fingers and then working his way down each one. It was one of Levi’s favorite parts of the whole massage, and he would have closed his eyes if he hadn’t been waiting for Jaime’s answer. Jaime’s gaze was intent on his work. “It’s Thursday. Don’t you have to work tonight anyway?”

“I took the night off.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my birthday!”

Jaime looked amused, but shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Fine,” Levi said with exaggerated disappointment. “I’ll got out for dinner alone. All by myself. Maybe if I tell the waitress it’s my birthday she’ll take pity on me and let me drink for free. Alone. On my birthday.”

Jaime dropped his hand and rolled his eyes as he moved around to the other side. “You’re going to guilt me into going with you?”

“Will it work?”

Jaime didn’t look at him, but he smiled a bit. “It might.”

Buy “Between Sinners and Saints” by Marie Sexton:  Amber Quill Press

About Marie Sexton:

Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular

young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and

enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along.

Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying

what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.

My website/blog: www.MarieSexton.net
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MarieSexton.author
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarieSexton
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3292500.Marie_Sexton
And be sure to join me for Coffee and Porn in the Morning: http://cupoporn.wordpress.com

Alphabet Soup

by CB Conwy

Publisher:  Torquere Press (April 27, 2011)

ISBN:  9781610402101

Andy knows exactly what he needs: scenes hard enough to take him out of himself. Then he meets CK, and everything is turned upside down. CK is relaxed and gentle and nothing like what Andy’s looking for. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Andy’s still attracted to the stranger. CK is new to the city and the club, but definitely not to the scene. Andy’s ideas of BDSM are very different from CK’s, but there’s still something about the man that draws CK. Something fascinating and completely unpredictable. The results can be amazing scenes or complete disasters. Andy is difficult to get to know, and CK has to work hard to find the reason for Andy’s erratic behavior. CK is nothing if not stubborn, though. He’s very determined to help Andy, and Andy’s ready for it, but there’s so much Andy’s trying to forget. Like the conscientious Dom he is, CK guides Andy’s recovery, one scene at a time. Very much against his principles, CK finds himself falling in love with the man he’s trying to help. Now he has to fight not only Andy’s past, but his own conscience as well.

Buy “Alphabet Soup” by CB Conwy:  Amazon

Guest post from CB Conwy:

Keep it real

Believe it or not, this has been my motto for a while now. Probably to my readers’ surprise. Because this world of ours – Romanceland – peopled by thoughtful, interesting, hot men is anything but realistic. These guys don’t have bad hair days, they don’t fuck up at work, and they certainly don’t have to spend the evening cleaning their kitchen. In Romanceland, floors are magically swept and morning breath is as fragrant as… Sorry, I’m all out of metaphors. Insert something flowery here; the author part of my brain doesn’t work during allergy season.

Let me get this straight: There’s nothing wrong with Romanceland. When I read a romance novel, I don’t want realism; I want to be in a world where there’s a kindred spirit as well as a happy ending for all of us. Yeah, it’s escapism. So what? Real life can be a bitch; sometimes you just want to run as fast as you can.

But I want it to be a good escape. I want my characters to be real enough that I can imagine meeting them on the train (I often do exactly that when I’m commuting, as a matter of fact. For your information, I’m not a crazy lady talking to herself; I’m talking to my fictional friends, thank you very much).

This is why my characters in my latest book, Alphabet Soup, are less than perfect. CK is an amazing man, but he fucks up. Badly. So does Andy, the other main character. And that’s the way I want it. I might want to lose myself in beautiful, hot, romantic stories, but they have to be convincing – whether I read them or write them. The characters might be larger than life, but they have to be believable. They have to feel real.

And hey, I still hope to meet my own personal Mischa somewhere, sometime.

I love to hear what my readers think of Romanceland, reality, and my books, so don’t hesitate to contact me at cbconwy@yahoo.co.uk.

Buy “Alphabet Soup” by CB Conwy:  Amazon

The Tradesman’s Entrance

by Cameron Vale

Publisher: Vagabondage Press LLC
Release Date: 23rd May 2011

Buy “The Tradesman’s Entrance”: Vagabondage Press / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

Virginal Stephen Patterson is suffering from writers block on his latest money-
spinning bodice-ripper, and his mood can only get worse when Dave the
plumber shows up two hours late, mocks him, and plunders his pantry.

But first impressions can be deceptive; Dave is a highly unusual tradesman
with an odd line in biscuit-based philosophy, an open-minded approach to
sex, and a cast-iron certificate in unblocking all sorts of pipes.

When Dave decides that it’s long past time for Stephen to unclog years of fear
and insecurity, Stephen may finally discover who he really is.

Buy “The Tradesman’s Entrance”: Vagabondage Press / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

Guest Post from Cameron Vale:

The origin of The Tradesman’s Entrance was a gig in London that I attended with a dear friend back in 2009. The support act – whom I won’t name to protect the brave but misguided – was a very rum do indeed. We’re talking theatrical costume changes, bizarre stage props, and po-faced pomposity. Not very rock ‘n’ roll, although I feel bad about saying that because I genuinely salute anyone who has the guts to get up on a stage, having been in a band myself. I’m sure many others at the gig thought they were the business. All art is subjective, and it’s impossible to please everyone. It just wasn’t my cup of tea on that particular night, that’s all.

Quite early in the set, the lead singer opened an umbrella and held it over his head while staring down the audience in silence. I suppose he was making some point or other about the shit that regularly pours down on any human being walking the earth, but frankly, after a couple of drinks in a pleasingly warm, dry, indoor venue after a long day at work, I couldn’t be arsed to go along with his fantasy. Meanwhile, some random bloke tripped onstage carrying a chair, proceeded to sit on it, then pulled a newspaper out of his jacket pocket and pretended to read. The umbrella-festooned lead singer took this as his cue to march purposefully to the mic and announce in a portentous voice, “This next song is called Tradesman’s Entrance!”

It was one of those moments where the incongruous steps forward and smacks you on the head. My friend and I collapsed in fits of giggles. To us, the unwitting double-entendre had just pricked the band’s arthouse, serious bubble. When I recovered, I turned to my friend and said, “I’m going to write a story called Tradesman’s Entrance.”

I suppose some of the pretentiousness of the band that night went into the Stephen character. And some of my mirthful reaction went into the Dave character. Stephen came easiest in the sense of knowing his territory. I felt for his loneliness, his self-criticism, his crippling perfectionism, also his anxiety, lack of trust, and damage. He was, in short, a writer! In contrast, writing the Dave character felt like a free-form adventure and a ton of fun. He was the kind of character that starts writing himself once you’ve thought him up.

I always start with the dialogue in any story because I love the rhythm of it. To me, dialogue is music. It’s my way in, if you like. With Plumber Dave, I couldn’t shut him up in my head once he started his biscuit-based banter. It felt like taking dictation. That can be scary too sometimes when a darker character starts to write himself. I have experienced that. But in this particular story, Dave was a joy to run with. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Everyone should have a Dave for his (or her) first time!

Now that I have some distance on the story, I think what pleases me most is that it’s a tale that focuses on the humour and ridiculousness of sex as an antidote to anxiety. We live in an age that takes sex far too seriously and I think that leads to all sorts of fears and neuroses. Really, it’s supposed to be fun and no big deal, whatever your persuasion.

Biscuits, on the other hand, now there’s a really serious topic! But I’ll save that for some other time.

I must thank Fawn Neun at Vagabondage Press LLC for believing in this story enough to want to publish it, and her colleague N. Apythia Morges for being such a sympathetic and astute Editor.

Finally, thanks for the guest post NBITB. Much appreciated!

About Cameron Vale:

Cameron Vale is one of the pen names used by a London-based polymath and autodidact who has thoroughly researched all the best ways to fall asleep on a keyboard. Cameron would like it known that although she may well have some Stephen Patterson in her, she has never ripped a bodice in her life.

Buy “The Tradesman’s Entrance”: Vagabondage Press / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

Unwind

by Tia Fielding

Publisher:  Dreamspinner Press

ISBN:  978-1-61372-039-4

Pub owner Sam and detective Jared have been together long enough to know each other through and through, so when the usually wordy Jared sends a clipped text message to Sam saying he’ll be late, Sam knows something’s wrong. If Jared is in a foul mood and wrapped up in a case that’s gone to court, he’ll be insufferable for who knows how long! Without some serious unwinding, their upcoming anniversary celebration might be ruined, so Sam plans something completely different for the evening: a foray that will take their lovemaking farther than ever before. With some luck and a little gentle coaxing, Jared should be unwound in no time.

Buy “Unwind” by Tia Fielding:  Dreamspinner Press

Message from Tia:

Hello – I’m Tia Fielding, a newbie author, nice to meet ya’ll.

I’m excited to give you this taste of my short story Unwind, which is part of Dreamspinner Press’s Daily Dose for June 2011. Unwind is a (hopefully) sexy, sweet, fun, and a bit daring story of two men in a long-term committed relationship. This story is about knowing someone’s buttons, and how to push the even ones you haven’t touched before. It’s also about how to stretch the limits, when it is something your spouse needs.

I’m hoping you enjoy this little excerpt and check out the rest of the story too.

Excerpt: Unwind

I moved closer to the bed smoothly, until I was practically stalking towards his naked form, which now lay on the bed. I had placed a towel on the bed, and he moved obediently on top of it, curious about what I was going to do. Every thought in his mind, I could tell. Poor thing; he was in for a surprise.

“See, I came to a conclusion today,” I said as I crawled on the bed toward him. “I’m not going to take any attitude before our anniversary. It’s almost here, and I want to stay in a good mood.”

We both knew that his mood affected me whether I wanted it or not.

“I get enough of that at the pub; the drunks are merry this time of the year,” I pointed out as I stopped next to him, kneeling close, but not touching. It was true; somehow the beginning of summer always brought out the local crazies. My grandpa had loved his patrons, but sometimes I wished the pub was located in a bit nicer neighborhood. It wasn’t easy for me; I hadn’t been born to run a pub, and it had taken adjustments. I could get really stressed at times, and I was lucky to have a partner who understood me.

Jared nodded, swallowed again, and looked down where my hand was now hovering over his erection. He was excited, even though I knew a situation where he didn’t have the control wasn’t exactly easy on him. My darling detective wanted to hold all the power in his hands at all times. He was a top, mostly, but I did top him too when I really wanted to. Usually there was no question; I enjoyed bottoming too much, but today….

“I think we’ll start by you showing me exactly how much you appreciate having your man waiting for you when you come home from work,” I stated and shifted closer to his head.

I wasn’t touching him, which for some reason made this even more interesting. Usually my hands were all over him as soon as I got him to the bedroom. Not tonight. He swallowed, thinking, trying to figure out what I wanted. I must have seemed a bit cocky, kneeling there next to him, waiting to be serviced in some way, but I didn’t really care. In fact, I liked this power play more than I had expected.

Sighing, I pulled the tank over my head. “This better? Give you any ideas?” I asked, and he looked at my body. The expression on his face made my cock twitch into full length. The jeans left nothing to imagination; they were so worn one could tell which way I normally dressed (left) and that I was now hard as rock.

Hesitantly, Jared reached his hands to my button fly and looked at me as if to ask for permission.

“Go ahead,” I nodded, and he tugged the buttons open, one by one.

He knew already I was going commando; the jeans rode low enough for him to see that. The lick of his lips that followed when my erection was freed was involuntary, but it made me groan a little bit. The cheeky man flashed me a smirk before licking my cock once, as much as he could with the jeans on.

“Wait,” I said and shifted back. “Lay back down, I’ll get rid of these.”

He did as told, though the glance he gave at my cock told me he wanted more of it. Perfect.

Buy “Unwind” by Tia Fielding:  Dreamspinner Press

About Tia Fielding

Tia Fielding is a 30-year-old Scandinavian. She is a self-proclaimed “queer girl”, lover of everything pretty, witty people, words, cats, sarcasm, autumn, and caffeine. Despite never having had any sort of age crisis and loving getting older, she vows to never grow up completely, because where’s the fun in that?

Website: www.tiafielding.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/tiafielding

Twitter: @tiafielding

NSFW Tumbr: http://tiafieldingwrites.tumblr.com/

Love On The East End

by Lily Sawyer

Publisher:  Wicked Nights Publishing

Gabriel Meyer’ s restaurant is a dream come true, but he gets more than he expected when in the course of his business he meets William Thomas, owner of Rolling Hills Winery. Food and wine more than come together on the east end of Long Island as they discover just how complementary Gabriel and William really are. Their seeming paradise is disturbed, however, when they meet young Ben Stewart—a troubled teen who is being bullied at school over his sexuality. Can they help this young man and fight the intolerance that lies on the east end of Long Island, or will it consume them?

Buy Love On The East End from Wicked Nights Publishing

Message from Lily Sawyer:

Hello, my name is Lily Sawyer and I never thought I’d be a writer.   I started off writing in fandoms.  My first was Star Trek.  After writing in other fandoms I decided to try my hand at writing an original story.    My very first book, “The Finest Thing”  is published with Dreamspinner Press  and can be seen HERE.

It opened up the creative juices and I’ve written two more books I am very excited to share with you.

Excerpt: Love on the East End

Gabriel Meyers looked at the empty dining room of his brand new restaurant.  He’d just opened the doors two weeks ago and already the place was packed every night.

While he loved the hustle and bustle of the lunch and dinnertime crowd, he appreciated the quiet the morning hours afforded him.  He used the time to do all the paperwork and phone calls, which were a part of running a place like Maven.

“Gabriel, we have a problem with the wine order.” Pierre came running into the room to inform him.  He was the restaurant’s sommelier, and Gabriel met him at the culinary school in Paris.  He was studying to be a chef and when he decided to open his own place Pierre was one of the first friends he told.

“Oh what now?”  It always seemed to be something, you’d think having your own place on the north fork of the east end of Long Island in the middle of wine country would mean having an endless supply of wine.  Sadly, it wasn’t the case.  Sometimes they had special clients that wanted certain things the restaurant didn’t always have on hand.  Like now they were looking for a special vintage of Riesling to go with the duck being served at a fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration, which was happening this weekend.

“The Pindar Winery won’t have any ready for about three weeks.”

“Have you tried the other wineries?”

“I tried the Rolling Hills winery, they said they’d give us a call back.”

“We can’t sit on our hands on this, we need that wine.  I’ll call them again to see if I can make any headway.  Thanks Pierre.”

Gabriel heard the phone ringing and ran back to the office to pick it up.  He wished he’d looked at the caller ID before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Gabbie!”

His stomach tied up in knots when he heard the dulcet tones of his ex-wife on the other end.

“Willow,” he said through clenched teeth.  “What can I do for you?”  He wished more times then he could count that he and the blonde with the blue eyes and movie star body had never crossed paths.

“Gabe, you don’t sound very happy to hear from me.”

Truth be told he wasn’t. Their marriage was the biggest mistake of his life.  They’d met in New York City, she was acting at a theater club and he was waiting tables.  They started off as friends, hanging out with friends and family.  Then ended up getting married.

Gabriel knew they had rushed into something that was never meant to be.  He did love Willow, but he was never in love with her.   He was gay; it took him a long time for him to admit it to himself, let alone to Willow.  He finally told her two years after they’d said ‘I do.’  She was stunned at first, then she told him she had a feeling something was different about him, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it.

They got a divorce, their story made the rounds with the tabloids.  Fortunately he was able to hide his secret of being gay, he was only too glad they left him alone and glommed onto her.

When one reporter intimated they’d split because Gabriel was gay, he asked an old friend from school if he could hang out with her to make it look like they were dating.  She was only too happy to help him throw them off the scent, even going so far as to make sure they were seen in public, holding hands and walking the streets of Brooklyn having brunch at a restaurant one Sunday morning.

“Willow, I’m kinda busy, what can I do for you?”

“Is that any way to talk to your ex-wife?”

He cringed when she said ex-wife, their divorce hadn’t been as clean a break as he would have liked.  She got nasty when he asked for the house on Long Island.  She had several properties; she barely spent any time there.  Her favorite spot was a condo on the upper east side of Manhattan.

“Well, I’m having a party to honor Chuck Scarborough, you remember my agent?  He’s celebrating thirty years in the business and I wanted to do something special.   He has a home not far from your restaurant and I want to rent out the back deck and hire a DJ and just do it up big.”

“How big?”  Despite how their marriage ended, Gabriel knew Willow could bring him a lot of big business with all the big wigs in the music and entertainment industry she could connect him with.

“About one hundred.”

“When?”  Maven could easily handle that many people.

“Weekend after next.”

It was spring and the weather was getting nice enough so they could start using the deck outside.  The restaurant faced Long Island Sound and on a clear day you could see Connecticut.

“How about I put you in touch with Annie, our party planner? She can iron out all the details. I don’t see any problem having the party here.”

“Thanks, Gabe, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of Maven for your party.”  They hung up.  He’d let Annie know about the party later, right now he had some Riesling to wrangle up.

****

William Thomas loved wine; there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about it.   His interest started when he took a trip to France and toured the wine country and it was like he finally found what he wanted to do with his life there in the middle of vineyard.   When he got back home he did everything necessary to begin his journey from a beginner everyone in the industry scoffed at to a well-respected wine maker.   Even his family, who were not thrilled with his decision to go into the winemaking business, became his biggest supporters.

Rolling Hills winery was the result of all the blood, sweat and tears.

William loved opening up the winery to tourists and often joined them in the wine tasting room.

Women came on to him all the time, he enjoyed the flirting.  But that was all it was ever going to be.    He wondered what these same women would think if they could see him dancing on the dance floors at one the gay bars on Fire Island.

He’d never had a serious relationship, content for years to play the field until he hit the big three-O six months ago.  Now he was looking for that special person, but it sure wasn’t easy to find him.  He decided if it was meant to happen it would happen.

****

Gabriel turned down the long linden-lined drive.   He parked in front of the quaint, Tudor style house at the end. He got out of the car, walked over to the fencing and looked at the rows of grape vines that went on towards the Sound.   There was just something about being out in the open air that made him feel so peaceful.

“Like what you see?”  A deep, sexy voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Oh geeze, you startled me.”  Gabriel put his hand over his beating heart, which beat even faster when he got a good look at the curly blond haired man that had snuck up behind him.

“Sorry,” the blond stuck out his hand.  “I’m William Thomas, owner of Rolling Hills winery.”

Gabriel grasped the proffered hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m Gabriel Meyers. I own Maven. I called about getting four cases of Riesling.”

“Ah yes my partner Steve told me you’d called.”

Gabriel didn’t know why hearing the word ‘partner’ bothered him, he’d just met William a moment ago and yet it felt like Cupid’s arrow had pierced him in the heart.

“I had them set aside for you.  They’re in the barrel room. How about I give you a tour of the place? I mean if you have the time.”  William flashed his pearly whites at him and Gabriel couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with the tall blond.

William must have been about six-one or six-two.  He didn’t tower over Gabriel’s own height of six feet, but he still had to crane his head just a little to meet the chocolate brown gaze.

“I have plenty of time, the restaurant doesn’t open until noon.”

“Well, then, let me give you the grand tour.” William led him to one of the pickup trucks parked next to the house. They took a drive around the vineyard.  William explained the different varieties of grapes they grew and what kinds of wine were produced from them. He even got a chance to watch one of the grape picking machines at work, carefully picking the fruit off the vine and separating out the stems.

“I can tell you, Gabriel, that is one expensive piece of machinery.  Had to get it imported from Italy.”

“Really? Wow!”  Gabriel was very impressed. He knew about wines, after all you can’t live in Paris like he had and study culinary arts and not learn about them.  He wasn’t an expert like Pierre, but he knew enough to know how to pair them with food and not embarrass himself.

As far as the growing end, he knew little but he sure was getting an education now.

“Has this winery been in your family for long?”   The wineries on Long Island had started up about thirty-six years ago.   No comparison to the centuries old vineyards in Europe but they still had made their mark in the wine making industry none-the-less.

William laughed. “No I’m the only one in my family interested in wine.  My father is a lawyer and my mom is a fashion designer.  My older brother is a screenwriter.   He ‘s worked on a few movies, and he lives out in LA.”

“What made you decide to go into the wine industry?”

“I was going to school in northern California and my friends wanted to spend spring break in Napa Valley.   I just fell in love with wines and wanted to learn the business.  I came back to Long Island and started my own winery.  Rolling Hills is the result.  We’re celebrating our tenth year.”

“Congratulations!  Your family must be proud.”

“Thank.  Well I can’t say they were thrilled, but they saw the passion I have and they’ve been very supportive.”

They parked next to the house and William took him to the barrel room.  One of the workers took the cases of Riesling and put the in Gabriel’s car.

“Do you want to stick around for lunch?”  William offered his new friend.

Just then Gabriel’s cell phone went off.

“Hello?” Gabriel walked a few feet away from the other man.  “What! No I know I placed that order a week ago, what do you mean they don’t have a record of the order?’  He paused.  “Shit, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”   He shut the flip phone closed.  “Damn.”

“Problem?”

“Yeah, I had a champagne order that was supposed to be delivered this morning and they have no record of it.  I need it for an engagement party tonight.”

“I think I can help you out there, just hang out here for a bit.”  After Gabriel told him he needed some Dom Perignon, William went inside the house.  He returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face. “It’s done, I got you the champagne you needed.  It should be delivered to the restaurant in about an hour.”

“How did you manage that?”  Gabriel was surprised.

“I know plenty of people around here. There’s a place on the south fork that carries some wonderful champagne.   I got you a case.  Unless you wanted more?”

“No, a case is fine.   I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

“Forget it, I was glad to help.”

Gabriel slid into the driver’s seat of his car and started the engine.   “Hey how about coming to our wine tasting event? We’re having it on Friday night at seven thirty.”

“Sure, sounds like fun. I’ll bring a good vintage from our special collection.”

“You can bring your partner if you want too.” Gabriel took off without waiting for an answer from William.  Truth be told he didn’t want him to bring anyone else, let alone his partner.   But it wouldn’t have been polite to invite him without his lover.

‘Why are the good ones always straight or taken?’ He asked himself as he drove, with a heavy heart, back to Maven.’

Buy Love On The East End from Wicked Nights Publishing

About Lily Sawyer:

Lily Sawyer has to credit her late mother for her interest in reading and writing. She used to take her to library and opened up to her the world of books. She took a writing class in an adult enrichment program and got hooked. She started off writing stories set in various fandoms she was interested in like Star Trek and Brokeback Mountain. After getting some encouragement from family members and friends, she finally decided it was time to write her own original stories. Lily recently returned to drawing and was in an art class. Also loves to garden and loves everything about nature. Including going to the beach and looking up at the stars.

Blog:  http://lilysawyerbooks.blogspot.com/

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000265729063

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2959790.Lily_Sawyer

Catch of the Day

by Lily Sawyer

Publisher:  Silver Publishing

ISBN: 9781920484132

Keeping House

by Lee Brazil

Publisher: Breathless Press

ISBN 9781926930466

ASIN B004ZMVRYW

Mischa knew his brothers were up to something. He didn’t know it would lead him to Donovan Holloway and change his carefree lifestyle forever.

Donovan Holloway, advertising executive, newly made vice president of the company where he’s worked for twenty years, grew up in a free love hippie commune, taking care of the parents who should have been taking care of him. He’s worked hard to put himself through school and achieve the American dream. All he’s ever wanted was a normal family life–house in the suburbs, two cars, two kids, a shaggy dog. A family to come home to–to care for, and to care for him.

Mischa Blake is the green eyed, liberally-pierced, black-haired, Mohawk-wearing spoiled youngest son of a Hollywood producer and his actress wife. Mischa has made a terrible mistake. In a fit of childish pique, he’s accepted a dare from his older brothers. The dare? Live on his own, supporting himself completely for a year without accessing his trust fund. No problem. Except Mischa has never worked a day in his life, hasn’t finished college, and has absolutely no skills that he can bring to the table.

So when he sees Donovan’s ad for a housekeeper/gardener, he has nothing to lose by applying, because really…how hard can it be?

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Guest Post from Lee:

Introducing: Keeping House~ A Story About Family, A Story About Love

Good morning Readers! After a glorious sunrise today, I’m sipping the coffee, and ready to talk about Keeping House. When I think back over writing this book, the scene I love most is when Mischa and his friends are unloading the U-Haul in front of Donovan’s house. Donovan, being the gentleman that he is, comes out to help them. Donovan can’t resist temptation, and kisses Mischa for the first time. First kisses are a magical thing in my book; I’ve always believed that kisses are more intimate a connection even than sex. After the kiss, Mischa thinks that Donovan was merely reacting to the display that his friends put on with their petting in the background. Ouch! That had to have hurt!

I’m from a large family, so I know exactly how the Blakes feel about their baby brother. Mine is over seas in the Navy right now, and I can tell you, there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t worry about him and what he’s doing over there. So, while I felt some degree of sympathy for Mischa and the plight he found himself in, I empathize most with Terry and Brandon Blake. Being an older sibling is almost as tough as being a parent. Terry and Brandon genuinely feel that they are doing their best to help Mischa, never realizing that their brother has dreams of his own that contradict their dreams for him. I know exactly how they felt, and that makes them less wicked manipulators and more men to be admired in my opinion.

I’m not sure where the inspiration for this story came from, except from the concept of family. As a family, my siblings and I often sit down to play a hand of cards or a game of some kind. Moments like that bind a family together. They are times for teasing, for sharing, for laughing and loving together. My fondest memories are of my Dad and Mom sitting down to play a rousing hand of cards with us. That’s where the poker game in the beginning came from. From there, it was natural to pair Mischa, a youth who didn’t really appreciate what a great family he had, with Donovan, a man who craved a family but didn’t really have a true concept of what family is.

BIO: I am a former English grammar and composition instructor who relocated from sunny Southern California to the countryside of Illinois a bit more than a year ago. I occupy my days here with gardening, reading and writing. Falling in love has been the biggest adventure of my life, and I hope to share that with readers through my writing.

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Keeping House

by Lee Brazil

Publisher: Breathless Press

ISBN 9781926930466

ASIN B004ZMVRYW

Mischa knew his brothers were up to something. He didn’t know it would lead him to Donovan Holloway and change his carefree lifestyle forever.

Donovan Holloway, advertising executive, newly made vice president of the company where he’s worked for twenty years, grew up in a free love hippie commune, taking care of the parents who should have been taking care of him. He’s worked hard to put himself through school and achieve the American dream. All he’s ever wanted was a normal family life–house in the suburbs, two cars, two kids, a shaggy dog. A family to come home to–to care for, and to care for him.

Mischa Blake is the green eyed, liberally-pierced, black-haired, Mohawk-wearing spoiled youngest son of a Hollywood producer and his actress wife. Mischa has made a terrible mistake. In a fit of childish pique, he’s accepted a dare from his older brothers. The dare? Live on his own, supporting himself completely for a year without accessing his trust fund. No problem. Except Mischa has never worked a day in his life, hasn’t finished college, and has absolutely no skills that he can bring to the table.

So when he sees Donovan’s ad for a housekeeper/gardener, he has nothing to lose by applying, because really…how hard can it be?

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

Hello Readers!

Excerpt: Keeping House

“So, tell me why you want to work for me.” That should give him pause.

“I don’t. My brothers dared me to get a job, and it’s been a lot harder than I expected. I just came from a McDonald’s where the manager had a guy with a BS cleaning the toilets and an MBA flipping burgers. The economy sucks.” Mischa sounded dejected.

“Ahh.” He wanted a job on a dare? What the hell? Who told a prospective employer they didn’t want to work for them? “Let me tell you a little about the parameters of the job.”

Mischa gazed at him quietly, waiting. Maybe the daunting aspects of the task would send the kid the way of the first applicant. “You’ll be responsible for preparing meals. I eat breakfast at six, daily, take a boxed lunch to work, and expect a minimum of a three course dinner. Sometimes I have guests, and occasionally dinner parties.” He didn’t really, but threw out the possibility anyway. For a moment, he was distracted by the amusing vision of a room full of elegantly clad clients and coworkers staring in horror as a Goth-garbed Mischa, hair spiked and piercings glittering in the candlelight announced that dinner was served.

“Got it. Cooking. I can do that.” Mischa seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Donovan of that fact.

“You’ll have to do the shopping. I don’t have time for things like that. Then there’s the cleaning. I expect the house to be spotless at all times.” He assiduously ignored the fact that the house was currently anything but clean.

Mischa wasn’t inclined to be so kind, though. He glanced pointedly around the kitchen, at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the debris from several takeout meals on the counter tops, and the unpacked boxes of kitchenware. “OK. Clean. I can do that.”

“I need the house put together, too. The boxes,” he waved around, “unpacked and stuff put away. The walls painted, furniture ordered and assembled and put in place.”

Mischa looked shocked. “You trust me to decorate your house?”

“No. I have the plans here.” He thumped the red leather-bound album that held the dream house drawings he’d labored on over the years on the marble counter. “I need my housekeeper to coordinate the workmen, decorators, deliveries and so on.”

More nods. “I can do that.”

Donovan stared helplessly at the kid. Stop calling him kid. It’s too pervy. What else? “References? Do you have references?”

Mischa bent over and the tight black t-shirt rode up as the skinny jeans inched down. Damn. All that creamy white flesh, hairless and smooth tempted him to reach out and touch, to examine the texture and resiliency. He wondered if there were any more shiny piercings hidden under that severe black garb.

“Hey,” Mischa was waving a handful of papers in front of his face, and Donovan flushed slightly. Could Mischa tell he’d been staring inappropriately at his exposed skin?

“I’ll, ahh, I’ll keep these. I need to call on them later.” He searched desperately for something, anything to turn the kid-man off the idea of working for him. Recalling the indignation and vitriol of the second applicant, he took a shot in the dark and threw it out there. “I’m gay.”

No response.

“I said I’m gay, a homosexual, a flamer.”

No response. Just inquiring green eyes locked on his face. Someone must have told the kid-man that eye contact was important.

“I sleep with other men?” Shit now he was making statements as questions.

The pierced brow rose slightly at that in an enigmatic gesture, but no response was forthcoming.

“This is a live in position. You don’t mind working for and living with a gay man?”

Finally, Mischa smiled. Donovan’s heart lurched at the sexy sweetness of that smile. The tiny silver hoop in his lower lip glinted seductively. Wonder how that piercing would feel when he pressed his lips to Mischa’s? It certainly drew attention to the swollen plumpness of the full red lower lip. Yeah–he really needed to get laid this weekend.

“No. I don’t mind working for a gay man, as long as you don’t mind hiring one.” Mischa’s smile was now a broad grin, and he settled back more comfortably on the barstool, as though he were suddenly making himself at home.

Sudden sympathy overrode Donovan’s concerns. Why not give the kid a chance? If Martin Weston hadn’t hired him to work in the copy room at his company all those years ago despite his being an underage gay hippie he wouldn’t be where he was today. He’d probably regret this, but it looked like the skater-Goth-boy/man had talked himself into a job. And the corporate advertising executive was sentencing himself to a series of cold showers.

Buy “Keeping House” at Breathless Press , All Romance eBooks, and Amazon among other online retailers.

About Lee Brazil:

I am a former English grammar and composition instructor who relocated from sunny Southern California to the countryside of Illinois a bit more than a year ago. I occupy my days here with gardening, reading and writing. Falling in love has been the biggest adventure of my life, and I hope to share that with readers through my writing. Not juicy enough for you? Well, I lived in the south for a while as a kid, and the southern really comes through sometimes. Most people already know I enjoy cooking, can’t dance, and read way too fast. My most common typographical error is to transpose the ng in words ending in -ing. Just kidding. That’s not juicy enough, either, is it? Oh, how about this? I believe kissing is the most intimate and meaningful act between lovers. I’ve made a study of it. *chuckles*

You can find me online at : Twitter Good Reads Face Book

Look forward to seeing you there!