The Southern Cross series from KC Kendricks

When I had Netting Neptune, Taming Triton, and Poseidon's Pleasure in the planning stages, I didn't realize how much I would like the end results. But by the time I got to the end of Poseidon's Pleasure, I didn't want to say goodbye to the six characters. So, like any good author, I'll just say...maybe I haven't said a firm and final goodbye to them. Ideas abound. Stay tuned.

KC




NETTING NEPTUNE
Contemporary gay romance
available now at Amber Allure
http://www.amberallure.com/NettingNeptune.html

Theron Bowman is in the throes of a mid-life crisis. At forty, he needs to make some serious decisions about his future. He splurges on a two-week vacation in the Caribbean, and like everything else in his life, things go horribly awry and he ends up working to pay for his room.

Forced by his father to break ties with his family, Colby Denton came to rest on St. Lucia, and opened an exclusive resort. To celebrate his tenth year on the island, and his birthday, Colby arranges for a series of festive beachside parties. When a sexy sea god swims out of the ocean in front of him, Colby has a brand new plan – netting Neptune.


To read an EXCERPT, please visit
http://www.amberallure.com/NettingNeptune.html
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-573-7
- - - - - -


TAMING TRITON
Contemporary gay romance
available at Amber Allure


Austin Michaels accepts his brother’s standing invitation for a Caribbean vacation at his island resort. Some time in the sun is just what he needs to map out a plan for his future. He gets lucky and meets a handsome teacher willing to have a little vacation fling with, as long as they can keep things fun.

Steve Guthrie’s secret longings have haunted him all his life. It’s time to face his questions and find the truth of who he really is beyond a staid college professor. His love of the sea prompts him to take a vacation at a Caribbean hide-a-way for relaxation and reflection. A sexy stranger with a tattoo tempts Steve to abandon his plans, enticing him to share a vacation romp.

Now Steve’s the student in a high stakes class of one, and to pass the course, he has to tame his very own Triton.


To read an EXCERPT, please visit http://amberquill.com/AmberAllure/TamingTriton.html
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-586-7
* * * * *



POSEIDON'S PLEASURE
contemporary gay romance
coming November 8, 2009
at Amber Allure.

Join the
Amber Allure mailing list at http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/AA_newsletters.html
to be notified as soon as the Poseidon's Pleasure buy link goes active!

Brett Houston triumphed over his life. Raised by an abusive father, Brett sacrificed his personal happiness to keep the ones he loved safe. Ready to make big changes in his life, Brett treats himself to a Caribbean vacation. To his surprise, he ends up at a seaside ball, wearing a G-string and presiding over the festivities as Poseidon, the God of the Sea.

Mark Matthews left behind his hometown, and his first love, to put down roots in California. With vacation time to use, or lose, Mark books a holiday on the island of St. Lucia, unaware of the surprise reunion Fate has waiting for him.

Brett cautiously examines the fractured bonds of the past, while questioning the possibility of a future with Mark. It’s simpler for Mark. He won’t settle for anything less than a future tending to Poseidon’s pleasure.

To read an EXCERPT, please visit
http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/PoseidonsPleasure.html
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-599-7
- - - - -

KC Kendricks
Visit my website at: http://www.kckendricks.com

Follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kckendricks
Join my mailing list at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/betweenthekeys
Read my personal blog: http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.com
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Sneak Peek At Maxie Briscoe, Werewolf

I am so excited for my January release, Maxie Briscoe, Werewolf, that I couldn't resist giving you a tiny sneak peek. I loved, loved writing this one, because it's all about a female werewolf, one who's not a four-legged wolf, but one who becomes a huge, hulking monster ala The Howling or Van Helsing. Bear in mind this is unedited so please forgive the mistakes, but I know you'll fall in love with her like I did. Enjoy!

Synopsis

The name's Maxie Briscoe and I am a werewolf. That's right, I'm a real live full moon loving Halloween icon. It's hard out here for girl like me. Besides the whole furry thing, I can bench press a car so the sex definitely has to be scaled back. You don't want to let go and accidentally kill your lover, it ruins the mood. So I muddle along as best I can until the night my neighbor is brutally murdered. Two hot as hell males wolves show up, claiming she was killed because someone thought she was me. Talk about getting your world rocked.

Sneak Peek
Maxie meets her two sexy wolves for the first time...

They materialize from the darkness, ancient hunters intent on their prey. Me. My breath hitches, the animal inside rippling beneath my skin. I’m nervous, but I refuse to let them see. This bitch rolls belly up for no one. I stride out onto my front porch, prepared to defend my territory. Dressed in loungewear, I am hardly the picture of a strong alpha female, but you go with what you got. I look them both dead on.

I fold my arms over my breasts. “What do you want?” I growl, my voice a low rumble.

“We’ve come for you, Little One.” His voice like muffled thunder, the taller of the two moves forward onto my lawn. Twisted steel with sex appeal about sums him up. His dark hair is pulled back in a tail, tee shirt molded to his cut frame. My nostrils flare, catching his scent, fresh like a mountain spring at first thaw.

Things down low quiver in anticipation, I want to coil myself around him like a python on a kapok tree, hugging every hard inch of flesh…I shove the urge down ruthlessly. It’s dangerous. Ulterior motives are written all over them and I just know one of them is to dominate me.

“It took us a long time to find you, Maxie.”

The whisky baritone draws my attention and I watch the other one emerge, lean and graceful, his muscles liquid precision. There was definitely hotness woven into the male half of the werewolf genetic code. His scent is warm and dark, like night in a jungle. My nipples bead with excitement as he lopes toward me, brushing past the larger wolf. He stops at the base of my stairs, conqueror etched in every line of his body. This was definitely the alpha of the pair.

I'll keep you posted as the release date draws closer. Have a great evening!

Melissa Bradley

Encore Performances is the title of my very first paperback book. I have been floating out near Jupiter since I got this beautiful cover a few weeks ago and now the time is nearly here. In a couple of short weeks, it will be on sale. I will finally be able to hold a physical book in my hands that contains my very own work. I cannot even begin to process. It means the absolute world to me, an attainment of a childhood dream that started at the small library on Chicago’s southeast side nearly thirty years ago.

Encore Performances contains two of my erotic novellas, Dream On and Love Haight. The title was inspired by the idea that the characters in these two stories came together for one night only and formed unlikely relationships. Here are the details…

One night… a heated glance and a seductive smile ignites a firestorm of ecstasy. Nothing matters except the pulse-pounding passion, the red-hot desire. What happens when one night is not enough to quench the searing flames? For two couples, it was only the beginning… Previously only available in electronic format, these steamy novellas of erotic romance have been combined in one paperback edition! Included are the tales…

Dream On

Nina Rozek has one big nightmare of a fortieth birthday. She’s overslept, is late for work and manages to get herself pulled over by the hottest young cop she's ever laid eyes on. Alex Torres feels the heat deep in his gut as soon as he locks eyes with the sexy speedster. But as a police officer, he knows using her info to get a date is oh-so-illegal... When the two unexpectedly cross paths at a rock concert later that evening, the intense attraction between them boils over into a night of scorching passion straight out of their wildest fantasies. In spite of their many differences, Nina and Alex forge an unlikely relationship that quickly changes everything…

Love Haight

It is 1967 and the Summer of Love has just begun to light up San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury. Lily Roberts, a Vietnam nurse, has come here to lose herself in the psychedelic scene and forget the horrors of war. For Joe Sullivan, a rocker on the rise, the vibrant atmosphere is the perfect place to launch his band to the heights of success. One searing night and they would go their separate ways, but those few heated hours change everything. Lily starts to feel emotions long buried and Joe can’t get her out of his mind or his heart…

Enjoy your day,
Melissa

An Exclusive Sneak Preview from BLUE MOON CAFE, My Work in Progress

I have written lots of horror, lots of stuff about vampires, serial killers, ghosts and things that go bump in the night. I have never written a werewolf story.

Until now.

I am hard at work on a new book called The Blue Moon Cafe. Set in my current home, Seattle, it's part horror, part romance, part erotica, and all can't-put-it-down. I hope it will be a draw not only for readers who like my horror, but for ones who like a good love story as well.

Here's a little taste. I hope you'll leave a comment and let me know what you think. Intrigued? Want to read more?

He’s hungry. He eyes a full moon above him through a caul of blood red. Its light is like the illumination of the sun: warming and energizing, heightening his senses. He sees with all of his senses and smell predominates. Before him, the streets of Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood stand out in sharp detail, silvery and shimmering from the moon’s light. Crisp; easy to track. And in the air, everywhere, are scents: the smell of beer, cigarette smoke, the pale fishy tang of Elliot Bay to the west, car exhaust. But what underlies all of this is sheer bliss—he lifts his snout to savor it: the smell of human flesh…and blood. Blood pulsing in the bodies of hundreds of carousers out for a Friday night revel, coursing in and out of bars, heedless and unwary, celebrating the beginning of the weekend. Their heat, movement, voices, and—most of all—aromas give him a paradoxically hungry and deliciously tingling feeling of anticipation deep in the pit of his gut.

His leathery black nose quivers, pulling the scent inside him, where he can savor it. His pale gray-furred ears point up to the moon, alert, listening for the sound of one alone, one that’s ripe. He wants to howl, but knows that such displays will draw attention to him as he sits, panting, in an alley behind a Vietnamese restaurant, shuttered for the night. Already a pair of men clad in jeans and tight T-shirts have wandered by and peered into the shadows the alley provides for him, wondering about him.

“Jesus!” One of them said. “Would you look at that? What is that? Some kind of dog? It’s huge!”

His friend had leaned over, further into the alley, far enough for the creature to catch the scent of the man’s sweat underlying the cologne with which he polluted himself. It had made his mouth water, his stomach growl, eager to pounce… But he knows he must be patient. The night affords plenty of time to hunt. Reward must always be balanced by a careful calculation of risk.

“Yeah, dude. I think it’s a German Shepherd…or a Husky. Somethin’ like that. Come on, let’s get to the Cuff.”

“I thought we were going to Neighbours.”

“The Cuff has hotter guys.”

The men had hurried off, unaware of how appetizing they were, how close they edged to their own demise. He licks his chops and stares up at the moon as a cloud passed over, partially obscuring its radiance.

But he has time to wait. Time to let the scents, sounds, and sights of the lively August night ramp up his hunger, his need, making the resulting feast all that much more succulent. There are practical reasons too for his patience. In the wee small hours of the morning (as the song went), there would be fewer witnesses to his impromptu al fresco supper of flesh and blood. The few people out—his prey—were more likely to be intoxicated and careless of heading down an alley just like the one in which he now crouched, waiting, every sense on alert.

Intoxicated…before dawn crept up over the Cascade Mountains, he knew that would be what he would feel. That, and a sense of utter satisfaction.

He circled a few times and lay down beside a Dumpster.

***

He has dozed off. When he awakens, the air is cooler and the night is quieter. The sounds of traffic, laughter, and voices have diminished to almost nothing. The rush of wind ruffles his fur as he gets to all fours, raising his snout to test the air.

Yes. There are humans close by. Two of them. He smells their perspiration and beneath that, their blood. Their warmth rides to him like a delicious current on the night breeze. He stands quietly, heart rate quickening, muscles tensing, tracking them. They are just outside the alley in which he waits and they are making noises, not talking. But there are definite sounds. He moves forward, silent on black paws, to the alley’s mouth. What is going in, a darkened doorway, is the sound of some kind of human mating. There are grunts, groans, and sighs. He sniffs, calculating: there are two men, one of them older, not as healthy, one young, vigorous.

Boldly, he trots out of the alley and crosses the street to watch from between two parked cars. The men do not even notice, they are so absorbed in what they’re doing and he’s so full of stealth that he might as well be a shadow gliding through the night.

The pair occupies the doorway of a storefront, cloaked in shadow. Human eyes, passing by, would not even register their existence. But he can see them: the younger one, the healthy one, the one he for whom he is already licking his chops, stands before the older one, jeans pushed down to his knees. His shirt is pulled up over his shoulders and behind his neck, exposing exquisite musculature and a constellation of inked skin. Throwing his head back, he whispers rapidly how “fuckin’ good” it all feels, while the older man kneels in front of him, his head bobbing up and down at his crotch.

The act takes fewer than ten minutes. The scent of sweat and semen hang in the air. The older man rises, looks around himself and stuffs himself back inside his pants and zips. He glances around again, although the creature can’t imagine why; there’s no one else to witness anything, and takes his wallet out. He digs in it, pulls out a few bills, and hands it to the younger man, the one with the shaved head, the bulging muscles, and the tattoos. The younger man snatches the money away and smiles. “Thanks.” He stuffs the money into his jeans pocket.

The older man begins to walk away and the younger one grabs his arm. “No kiss goodbye?”

They both laugh. The older man pecks the younger on his mouth. At the same time, the younger man pulls him closer as if to embrace him and reaches back, smoothly pulling the wallet from the older man’s pants. The other man, unaware, hurries off into the night, toward downtown.

“Muscles” counts the money, chuckling, then rifles through the wallet. He hears him whisper, “What story will you make up for wifey about how you lost your wallet?” He throws back his head and laughs out loud at the thought. He pulls the remaining cash from the wallet, extracts a couple of credit cards, and tosses the wallet to the ground.

The monster takes him in with all of his senses. He’s perfect.

He tracks him through the streets, uphill. He is beginning to question whether luck will be on his side when his prey ducks into an alley. He follows, amused that, after all these blocks, he has never once noticed the creature behind him. He watches as he pulls out his dick and sprays a bright yellow stream on the brick wall before him. He can smell the piss, ammonia-like, but it’s part of the man's essence and his heat. Mixed in with the smell of it is also the scent of his semen, left over from his prior business transaction.

Drool runs from the creature's mouth. He can wait no longer. He pounces, and without a howl, without a growl, without even a bark, he is upon him.

Tearing.

The man doesn’t even have time to scream.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AQP

Happy

7th

Birthday

AQP

March 2003 - WHERE'S MICHELLE - Romantic suspense, was my first AQP release.

October 2009 – REINCARNATION - Gay m/m erotic romance
My most recent AQP Release

And in the beginning, on the 1st day of October, 2002, Trace, Karin, Laura, Ingrid, EJ/Libby, Catherine/Caitlyn, Barbara/April, and a few others who’ve since moved on, gave birth to Amber Quill Press and launched it kicking and screaming (well, I’m sure Trace probably was ) into the wonderful world of digital publishing. The company’s name and trade mark color, a beautiful amber gold, has proved to be the perfect choice because here we are, seven years later, and the golden child is still marching right along in tune with my favorite new motto: ONWARD AND UPWARD.

I joined AQP as an author on September 29, 2002, after receiving an invitation from Trace—a “by invitation only” policy that is still in effect today and one, I suspect, that is largely responsible for the company’s success for the simple reason dealing with literally thousands of unsolicited submissions takes time, money and manpower a fledgling operation either doesn’t have or cannot afford to expend. There are also a number of other AQP policies that are still in place as much today as they were on Oct.1, 2002 such as the company being open and honest with its authors, treating them in the same polite, courteous way they like to be treated themselves, and always paying royalties on time. Probably one of the most important of these policies from the authors’ point of view is that since day one, all novel-length books have gone into paperback, and the company has never used a "sales quota requirement" to decide whether a book would qualify.

I still have a bunch of old emails from those early days (yes, I tend to be a bit of a hoarder), and it was fun to reread some of them and recall people and incidents I’d forgotten about. Like, for example, the start of the Heat Wave contest and a soap-opera style serial romance which, and probably for the best, died a very quick death.

But out of all the memories there is one thing that stands out in my mind from way back then, and that is something Catherine/Caitlyn did. As you may or may not know, the owners and staff of AQP plus some of its current authors previously worked together at another epub. Things were not going well, so Trace and the others quit and started AQP. However, in the time between them deciding to quit and actually leaving, it was business as usual and Catherine okayed the purchase of one of my books she knew would never see the light of day. So what did she do? Instead of keeping her mouth shut, which most people would have done in the circumstances because there’s no way I would have ever found out, she bought the rights to the cover of WHERE’S MICHELLE, my first release, from Trace (who owned them) and gave them to me as a gift. It was, is and probably always will be one of the nicest and kindest things anyone has ever done for me. Thanks, Catherine!

When AQP started out, 60,000 words was the minimum an author could submit, but then readers wanted hotter stories, short stories gained in popularity, and erotic romance with all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed became the NEXT BIG THING. I recall we had a lot of fun thinking up names to hide our real identities: such as Trixie Stilletto, and Christiane France. Remember Hot Clue, Beth Anderson’s aka? Although as far as I know she never did publish anything under that name. But back then we had to hide behind something, heaven forbid our families and friends should find out we were writing S M U T.

Now it’s 2009, AQP is 7, and we’re writing gay, ménage, and whatever else turns our readers on, the hotter and kinkier the better, and for the most part, our friends and families think it’s just great. At least mine do. They know what we write is fantasy, not real life, and that our aim is to entertain and amuse not to hurt or destroy.

So, please, join with me and lift a glass of cyber champagne to wish AQP, it’s owners, staff, authors and readers, A VERY HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, and here’s hoping, at the very least, for 7 more golden years.

Actually, today, October 28, is my birthday, and as my mom used to say when I asked how old she was, I’m as old as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth.

Have a great day everyone.

Christiane France/Chris Grover
www.chrisgrover.ca

V: The V in Vigilant by J.M. Snyder

V: The V in Vigilant
Book 3 of V: The Series

by J.M. Snyder

Buy your copy today!

The V in Vigilant is book 3 in my V series. When Vic has a rough day at work, his lover Matt puts their telepathic connection to good use, tapping directly into Vic’s needs to provide some relaxing downtime at home. However their sensual massage turns to serious talk, and Matt finally asks Vic the question he’s been wrestling with for the past few months.

The next day, Vic’s latest super power almost makes him call in sick. Then a disabled bus passenger is attacked, and Vic rushes to the rescue.

Buy your copy or read an excerpt today!

Exploring Paranormal Romances… Just in time for Halloween

Exploring Paranormal Romances… Just in time for Halloween
By Kelli Wilkins

Halloween is my favorite holiday, and as most everyone knows, I write in several genres – including romance and horror. Many people think that’s an odd combination, but I like to say that one half of my brain writes the horror, and the other half writes the romance.
So naturally, it was only a matter of time before I combined the two and started writing paranormal romances.

My first paranormal, Confessions of a Vampire’s Lover, is a contemporary with a gothic feel. My original idea for the story was: “What if a vampire went to the beach?”

Although the story is about a vampire, I wanted to keep the central focus on Brian and Cassie’s relationship and not on the ‘bloodier’ aspects of vampirism. I think there’s a fine line when blending horror and romance into paranormal romance. Too much gore or a “too terrifying” creature can snap the readers (and the characters) out of the romance and into a full-on horror story.

When I wrote my second paranormal, Beauty & the Bigfoot, I took on the challenge of writing a Bigfoot romance. My story idea was simple: “What if a girl fell in love with a Sasquatch?” I knew the subject matter and plot wouldn’t work with a “straight” romance, so I made it into a paranormal comedy.

While I was writing the story, I was concerned about two aspects: One was readers being turned off/freaked out by the idea of a woman being intimate (repeatedly) with a “monster” (or an “animal”); the second thing that concerned me was that readers wouldn’t “get” the wacky humor and unusual characterization of Tara and her father, Charlie.

I made sure I gave the Sasquatch a name, (Joe), and humanistic traits so readers can see him as Tara does – as a really hairy guy. I’m happy to say that Beauty & the Bigfoot has received several excellent reviews, so the story and humor are connecting with readers.

Several people have asked me if it’s hard to write horror and romance. Not really. I enjoy it. It allows me to change up my writing style, use different settings, and create characters you wouldn’t find in romance. My horror short stories are more psychological/spooky/creepy than gory, and I like to explore the darker aspects of a story and not always give the characters a happy ending (as I do in my romances).

If you’d like to read a short and spooky Halloween story, check out Kropsy’s Curse: http://ebooks.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook17627.htm

Meanwhile, here’s an early Halloween present – an excerpt from Confessions of a Vampire’s Lover:

Cassie draped her arms around my neck and pulled me close, as if she were hungry for my touch. Her wet lips met mine, and a shock coursed through my entire body. Cassie’s lips were soft and supple, but ice cold. It was the strangest kiss I’d ever experienced, and it stirred something primal in me.

I let out a throaty groan as a hot rush of blood surged to my cock. I stiffened in an instant and clasped Cassie’s buttocks hard. A burning desire to have her overtook me, and I fought the urge to push her down on the sand and shove myself into her—anything to release my raging need.
Cassie kissed me deeper and twisted her tongue around mine. The world seemed to spin, and once again I felt myself falling under her spell. I was hers, willing to do whatever she wanted. After a moment, she released me.

“Wait for me on the beach. I’ll let you take me any way you want,” she whispered, then dove back into the water.

I made my way to shore as quietly as possible and flopped onto the sand. My heart raced out of control and my stiff cock ached with every heartbeat.

I closed my eyes and tried to think. What was Cassie doing out there? Nobody could see in the ocean at night or safely swim with sharks after dark. Maybe Cassie was a mermaid. I chuckled at my own stupidity. Mermaids weren’t cold, they couldn’t vanish into thin air, and they didn’t hide from the sun. That was a—

“Look what I found.”

I opened my eyes. Cassie stood over me, holding something shiny in her hand. The gold ring gleamed in the moonlight. I took it from her and studied it. The stone was dark, almost blood red. I handed it back to her and she slipped it on her ring finger.

“You really should let me explore for awhile. There are a lot of interesting things down there,” she said.

I scowled. “How did you find that in the water? It’s pitch black.”

“Don’t ask, Brian.” Cassie straddled my hips and kissed me. She bent close, offering me her breast. I drew it into my mouth and sucked eagerly. To my surprise, she felt flushed and warm, and tasted salty, like the ocean.

Cassie gasped and arched her head back. “Make love to me, Brian. I want to feel alive,” she said as she unzipped my jeans.

I pulled off my shirt while Cassie stripped me. My intense need grew more powerful every second. I lay back on the rough sand, naked and ready. I expected her to mount me like she had before—but Cassie was full of surprises.

She stood up and walked a few feet away. “If you want it, come and get it,” she teased.

Her wet, naked body shimmered in the moonlight. There was no way I could resist. An image of me entering her from behind flashed through my head, and I rushed toward her…

Happy Halloween!
Kelli


PS: Happy Birthday to Dwight Yoakam!

MUSE - out now!

My extended Amber Kiss 'MUSE' is now on sale, and I'm thrilled to see it there.  Not JUST because that cover by Trace Edwards is superb and makes me feel warm every time I see it *lol*.  But because the story's theme of art and love intermixed is close to my heart.

BLURB: Gavin McGrath’s art career is in ruins, his health is failing, his wife’s left him because of his promiscuity, and he’s alienated people in the industry with his aggressive and arrogant behavior.

But when a full pot of red paint falls on his current canvas, apparently ruining it, it brings a change in his life he never expected. A strange, beautiful young man appears in his studio as his companion and Muse. Matteo is from another time but he understands artists all too well—and now his place is with Gavin.

Matteo brings devotion and inspiration across the centuries, forcing Gavin to take stock of his life and his behavior in the months he has left to him. Eventually Gavin realizes he must reconsider the capacity for love he’s always scorned—before it’s too late for both him and Matteo...

Matteo was inspired by a work by one of my favourite painters, Caravaggio, called “The Musicians”. Gavin’s art is more traditional, the sketching and painting of nudes, but his new project excites him in a way nothing ever did before – and so does Matteo.

So I’m no artist myself, but I’m an enthusiastic consumer, and I love when it moves hand in hand with other mediums.  I have tried to blend that in with my fiction on several occasions - and the poignant story of Gavin and Matteo is one that I'm very proud of.

We all work hard for our art, whatever form it takes. For me, visual art inspires a different response than fiction does. Fiction requires a longer attention time, and – if good - will build a path to your heart. But art generates a much more immediate response. I can admire the craft and skill of a painting, as I can a book – but my heart has already decided whether to love it.  I hope that my storytelling can bring those two emotional responses together.

Good art is not what it looks like, but what it does to us. (Roy Adzak)

And isn’t that what we all seek in fiction, as readers and/or writers? I know it’s true for me.

At the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since. (Salvador Dali)

I hope you are tempted to read Muse - and enjoy it!

Visit my website

and/or my blog.


Read an excerpt:



...Matteo yawned slowly, not self-conscious at all. Then, quite calmly, he dropped to the floor and settled himself cross-legged beside my easel. “You said it yourself. You can’t ignore the cries from inside your gut. That painting cries to me.”

Dear God. “And what does it cry to you, Matteo?” The sarcasm wasn’t as sharp as I’d intended. “You said I painted it from life, but that’s nonsense.”

He sucked thoughtfully on the orange, his nose crinkling every time his teeth bit into it. It was an innately charming, affectionate gesture. “It cries life to me. Hurt. Love. Warmth. Death.”

“Clichés,” I snapped. I was surprisingly disappointed in him. He was nothing but a high school critic, a pretentious mimic. No better than Ailsa and some of the other fawning idiots who came around, ostensibly to learn from me. A trespasser.

He shrugged again and reached for the other half of the orange. He’d sucked the first half quite dry and there were flecks of its flesh on his lower lip. He looked up at me from under thick, dark lashes. “It cries passion to me.”

My breath stilled in my chest. I’d have been scared by the fierce concentration in his gaze if I didn’t know all this couldn’t be real. “That’s not what I want. Not now.”

Matteo laughed as if we both knew I was talking complete crap. Other people had laughed at me in the past, but their laughter was full of scorn and dismissal. Matteo’s was…happy. Fond. After a moment, I smiled, too.

He snagged another orange and settled his back against the wall. He drew his legs up against his chest, well-developed muscles straining against the material of his pants, one hand resting on his knees. “But for now, you must also finish what you’ve started. All these paintings…” With the hand holding the orange, he gestured toward the stacked canvases. “You must decide on the good ones and make them better. Then sell them so you have enough money.”

I shook my head, astonished at his boldness. “You know nothing about it. They’re all crap, there’s nothing new there.” Or so my agent had said, both to my face and then in correspondence, because he was a coward. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew my bad temper had increased over the last few years. I’d scared the shit out of him more than once and also alienated most of the gallery owners in town. Even hardened art journalists thought twice about approaching me nowadays. What did I have to offer anymore? I was at the end of the road on so many levels. I’d never have admitted my failures to Ailsa, but here I was, baring my rather soiled soul to this weird, misguided young man.

Matteo laughed. Such a relaxed, untroubled sound. “But I’m here now.” He leaned his head back and planted his bare feet firmly on the floor, wriggling once more to get comfortable. “So now you must tell me about yourself, Gavin McGrath.” When I opened my mouth to protest again, he shook his head, his young, soft eyes a little grave. “While you paint, of course.”

It was nonsense. Didn’t I say so? All of it. It couldn’t be happening and it shouldn’t be tolerated. But I got up from my chair and picked up the palette. Matteo nodded at me, encouragingly. I stood at the easel and concentrated on the top section of the canvas. The red paint had bubbled there; the light in the studio caught the top of each bump, reflecting and refracting, blending the dips and shadows. I could see the opportunity there to paint the emergence of a life, bubbling into existence, raw and innocent and clean. My vision was much clearer than usual and the pain in my chest had eased. For one brief, shocked moment, I thought I caught the scent of the orange, hanging in the air of the studio, tart and sweet. And as I painted, I started to tell Matteo about myself.

Several hours later, he stopped murmuring replies to me. I no longer heard the creak of the floorboards behind me as he shifted to get comfortable. Was he asleep? I wiped a bead of sweat from my chin, but for some reason I was wary of turning around to look.

“Matteo?”

There was a slight whisper—it might have been a draft under the door out of the studio. I tried for a careless, cynical tone.

“You never said who your artist friend is.”

He sighed, then. “Concentrate on your work, Gavin. It’s not important. And maybe you won’t have heard of him? He uses the name of his town, where he lived and his parents died. It was before he came to Rome. He goes by the name of Caravaggio.”

And when I whirled around, Matteo had gone. I never heard the door either open or close behind him...

SOMEBODY TO LOVE - COMING SOON (no pun intended)

COMING NOVEMBER 14, 2009, FROM AMBER QUILL PRESS'S ALLURE LINE

Usually, one of Trace Edward Zaber's fabulous covers would be in this spot, but for now Blogger isn't accepting images, so we'll just see how that goes. Maybe it will later today. Note: As you can see, the image is here. I hadn't checked the Terms of Service box, so it wouldn't upload images.

I'm sitting in our enclosed patio, drinking coffee and watching the birds at our feeders just beyond the windows. I solved the problem of gray squirrels eating all the food before the birds could, but the feeder still spews seed on the ground when the birds step on the little loop supports. At least they hunt and peck what's fallen.

It's a beautiful, clear, warm day in southern California and I'm enjoying the treat of a day all to myself. My husband is in Palm Springs playing golf with his high school BFF. They reconnected at a reunion about ten years ago, and a few times a year they play golf together. The friend lives in the town where they grew up, which is about eighty miles inland from us. He has friends in the desert area, and because we live mid-way between his home and the desert course where they play, my husband is invited.

HERE'S THE STORY for my latest erotic gay contemporary romance scheduled for release November 14th.

Their relationship begins with a problem: Kevin Connolly, star of The Detective and newly spotlighted as TV’s “Sexiest Man of the Year,” works in Hollywood. Nate Marquette, his new love, works part of the year as a fireman in a mountain range not far from Los Angeles, but most of the year he operates his business as a helicopter logger in the deep forests of the Pacific Northwest and Canada. Complicating the logistics of getting together when they’re miles apart is the fact that it’s vital they keep their sexual preferences secret. Exposure as a gay man might ruin Kevin’s career, but it could mean death for Nate.

In the end, it’s not these challenges that threaten to tear them apart, but deeper issues of trust and betrayal. . .

CHOOSING MY CHARACTERS

I'd seen a television special on helicopter logging and found it different, intriguing and dangerous. There were YouTube videos to watch as well. Wouldn't a heli-logger make a fabulous strong lover? Yes!

Southern California, especially in the Los Angeles area, is steeped in the film and TV industry. We have adult children who work in what's termed "The Business," so coming up with an imaginary "Sexiest Man" and giving him the top show as lead actor was a natural. And fun.

EXCERPT

Nate had the barbecue fired up, the coals were glowing, and the corn and steaks were cooking when Kevin stepped out the back door. Most of the disguise was in the house. He wore the hat and the dark glasses. For all anyone knew, he’d shaved off his mustache and beard.

He stretched and sniffed. “That smells wonderful.”

“Feeling better?”

“A zillion per cent. Thanks.” In a low tone he added, “I’d show you how grateful I am, but we’re outside.”

Nate chuckled. The laugh rumbled out of a stockpile of happiness. “There’s beer in the refrig if you want one. Bring one for me, too, please.”

It was too cold to stay outdoors once the food had cooked, so they ate in the kitchen and talked. When the temperature dropped even lower outside, Nate built a fire in the living room. They finished their beers sitting in front of it. Kevin collected the bottles and took them to the kitchen.

Nate watched Kevin come out of the kitchen. Standing, he held out his hand. “Come here.”

Kevin sighed as Nate grabbed his butt and pulled him hard against his solid body. He loved feeling Nate’s cock locked against his as both dicks strained against the restricting pants, wanting to touch skin to skin as they had in the desert. Nate’s mouth closed on Kevin’s, and his lips were at first soft and sweet, but then they seduced deeper and fuller, building a hunger Kevin matched. Nate rubbed his groin across Kevin’s, setting alight a tingling all over his body.

“I want you, Nate Marquette.”

“So I’ve noticed. The feeling’s mutual. The couch is softer,” Nate whispered against Kevin’s mouth.

They tore off their clothes and clung together, chest to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock. With trembling hands Kevin fumbled in the pocket of his khakis for two foil packets, at last pulling them free. He held them up. “Grape or strawberry?”

“I don’t care. Just hurry before I cover you with cum.”

Kevin knelt, and Nate groaned softly from low in his throat as Kevin’s breath bathed his swollen dick. The groan resonated in Kevin’s belly and desire coiled tight in his core. Kevin unrolled a purple condom over the damp cock jutting toward his face. He denied Nate the pleasure of suiting him up because he knew he’d blow the minute Nate’s hands were on him.

Standing, Kevin whispered against his lover’s ear just before he blew softly on it and then plunged his tongue deep inside. “I hope you like strawberry.”

“I want my mouth on you--any time, any flavor at all. . .

Carolina Valdez

http://www.carolinavaldez.com
http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/SomebodyToLove.html
http://www.myspace.com/sensualstories
http://www.twitter.com/carolina_valdez

Passion - Heat - Ecstasy

Cave Creek Cowboy Trailer Trash

Cave Creek Cowboy Trailer Trash

by Brit Blaise
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-592-8 (Electronic)

What happens when a rich cowboy, broken by loss and life, meets a woman who thinks she’s trailer trash, not good enough for him?

Caren started down the wrong road in life when she became pregnant at fifteen. Now at thirty-four, she’s divorced and living in a dump of a trailer. She spent the last ten years of her life sacrificing for her child, yet her teenaged daughter hates her and wants nothing to do with her. So when a single night with a handsome cowboy presents itself, Caren jumps at the chance to forget her troubles and live a little.

J. R. is just trying to make it through each lonely night. He’s lost everything worth living for, and he’s not interested in starting over. He simply wants a good time with no strings attached. But when he meets Caren, he suddenly discovers his heart isn’t as dead as he once believed. After their night together, Caren makes him yearn for more.

But a one-night-stand can’t heal years of pain—or can it?

Buy today at 25% discount.
$3.00

Buy Now

If you love a mystery, anything set in Las Vegas, and m/m gay romance, I hope you also enjoy REINCARNATION, my new release from Amber Allure.

Christiane France


Reincarnation by Christiane France ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-585-0 (Electronic)
When past and present collide, it’s difficult to know what’s real and what’s not...
When Lee Stanger and Reno Jackson meet in a Las Vegas bar, they feel an instant and mutual attraction, plus the feeling they’ve met somewhere before. But they couldn’t have met previously, since Lee has never been to the west coast, and Reno has never been farther east than Denver. And both men have good reason not to go digging up the past in the hope of figuring it out.
Over the course of the evening, however, Lee has a series of fragmented and puzzling flashbacks about an event from his past that includes a man who looks like Reno. Or could he be confusing two unrelated incidents, and if so, are they connected in some way?
Until now, Lee has chosen to ignore medical advice and allow an unpleasant experience that happened eight years ago to remain a blank in his mind. But with details starting to resurface and a burning need to remember exactly what happened, he can no longer afford to suppress the memories, no matter how painful or traumatic. Whether he wants to or not, he knows it’s time to fill in the blanks...
NOTE: Don’t miss the exciting sequel, On The Run, available soon.

EXCERPT:

…“Anything in mind for later?” Reno asked after the waiter had taken their orders and departed. “Another bar, or a club maybe?”
“Sure, whatever.” Lee knew Reno was respecting his stated wish to go slow, and he appreciated the other man’s sensitivity. He’d never cared for the mindless, get it anywhere you can, mechanical, another notch on the bedpost type of sex that some people thought gay men liked. He’d known guys who actually preferred it that way, but it wasn’t for him. He liked his loving to have a little emotion and a lot of magic and that was the real reason why he never closed his eyes and jumped. If it meant losing out the odd time, it was no big deal.
But he didn’t plan to lose out this time.
Lee gave a small sigh of satisfaction that he’d finally met someone who also liked to stop and smell the flowers. Except his lifetime habit of being careful was becoming more difficult to remember with each passing second. He could so easily have taken up Reno’s offer back at the bar to see if a room was available. The thought of Reno’s hands touching and caressing his ass, then his dick…
He reined in his thoughts and gazed at his new friend through half-closed eyes, taking in his short dark hair, and the sexy trace of five o’clock shadow. The dude had good looks to spare—dark, intelligent eyes that held more than a hint of heat, high cheekbones and a wide mouth with mobile lips he just knew could take him to paradise and beyond. Instinct told him their feelings had been mutual—right from the moment he’d caught sight of Reno standing by the bar with that “come-and-get-me” look in his eyes. The silent message had been sent and received the instant their gazes locked, making actual words unnecessary.
Already, Lee could imagine Reno undressing him, and already he could feel the touch of Reno’s mouth and tongue, and the slide of his beautiful, long-fingered hands moving leisurely over his body, upping the tension while he concentrated on giving him the kind of total satisfaction he craved.
Lee swallowed a sigh. Yeah, man. And he wanted to give back every bit as good as what he got. He wanted Reno in a way he hadn’t wanted any other man for a very long time. Not since---
They’d stayed under the shower for what felt like hours, the hot water and the violet-scented soap soothing his battered body while the man’s clever hands kneaded and massaged away the knots and the pain with the kind of tenderness and caring and--
The waiter came back, put the bottle of wine they’d ordered on the table along with a basket of bread and managed to derail Lee’s thoughts in the process. After pouring them each a glass of wine, the man turned away, and Lee tried to pick up the thread, but it was useless. Whatever track his mind had been on had disappeared along with the waiter.
He took a piece of the bread and put it on his plate. The brief memory flashes were starting to bother him for the simple reason they made no sense. He didn’t know if they were scrambled, disjointed fragments resurfacing from that long ago attack in his hometown, prompted by the trip down memory lane—he’d been told that could happen when the victim buried a traumatic incident rather than face it head on. Or if it had to do with someone from his past who’d borne more than a passing resemblance to the man sitting across from him. While no one came to mind, he couldn’t swear a Reno look alike hadn’t crossed his path at some point. Annoying as it was, this wasn’t the first time Lee had seen someone he thought he recognized. Sometimes the answer came within a minute or so, and sometimes it never did.

www.chrisgrover.ca

The Tattooed Heart by JM Snyder

The Tattooed Heart
by J.M. Snyder

Available in e-book format!

Chris and Lee have been best friends since the fourth grade. Now in their thirties, Chris rents a booth at Tattoo 804 where he makes a living as a tattooist. His own art is hidden in a portfolio behind his desk-his clients always want him to copy a design or character someone else has drawn, and none ever ask for any custom ink. To satisfy his artistic cravings, Chris coerces his friend Lee to stop by after hours for free tattoos in exchange for letting Chris design whatever he wants.

Lee's body is a shrine to Chris's artwork. Every tattoo he has is a custom creation from his friend, whom Lee has loved for years. Though both are gay, Lee has never had the courage to let Chris know how he feels, and it pains him to watch Chris flit from boyfriend to boyfriend in search of Mr. Right when Lee would gladly claim that title.

Chris's latest boyfriend, Barry, is in a local band and sounds absolutely wonderful ... Lee hates him already. But when all Chris can talk about is Lee's latest tattoo, Barry feels like a third wheel and their budding relationship sours. What will it take for Chris to realize the lover he's looking for has been sitting in his tattoo chair all along?

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!