Unexpected Trust by Silvia Violet
Special Agent Hugh Cranford, better known as Sport, is conducting an off-the-record investigation. He’s after Danny O’Sullivan, a spy rumored to have assisted in the ambush of Sport’s former SEAL team. Danny claims he and Sport are on the same side, and the real traitor is the man Sport is working for. But Danny is a master manipulator. He’s also the most seductive man Sport has ever met. Sport can’t help being attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to trust him.
In his quest to bring down a few highly-placed traitors in the US government, Danny O’Sullivan has been keeping tabs on Sport. When Sport comes looking for him, Danny decides to bring Sport in on his secret mission and into his bed. Sport may not trust Danny, but he wants him. As the two men risk their lives to complete Danny’s mission, they discover neither is as strong as they like to pretend.
He closed the box and reached for another. Then he heard the whoosh of a door opening. No footsteps followed. Someone was trying to be silent. O’Sullivan? A security guard? It might be nothing more than a routine check but his instincts told him he was about to be discovered. He flattened himself again the wall next to the shelves.
Several seconds of silence. The hall door opened and closed again. Sport started to put his gun away.
Suddenly, the office door swung open and Danny stood there, aiming a Glock at his chest. Fuck. He hadn’t heard a thing.
Why hadn’t he waited to come back here? Based on what he’d seen of the security, he could have broken in easily after hours. He could hear his instructor at Quantico berating him for his impatience. Mr. Invincible. Mr. I’m-Better-Than-Any-Fucking-Spook. Look where that got you.
“Hello there,” O’Sullivan said. "Waiting for me?”
The Irish lilt went straight to Sport’s cock. Damn the man. "Just leaving actually,” Sport said, pushing away from the wall.
Danny shook his head. “Not yet. Get rid of your gun, and then we’re going to get to know each other better.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, O’Sullivan.” Sport dropped his gun on the floor. Danny kicked it away from him.
“Call me Danny. You’ve obviously been getting to know me already.”
“Can’t say that I have. Not much here to learn from.”
Danny walked to the desk and jerked open the drawer where Sport had seen the bug. Danny ripped it loose, dropped it on the floor, and smashed it with his foot, apparently no longer caring if whoever placed it realized Danny was on to them. “That’s better. Now we can have some privacy. So, tell me this, why did you bother poking around in this dusty old place when what you really want is right here?” Danny swept his hand down his body, letting it graze over his cock.
“It looked like you’d already found some company,” Sport said, keeping his face neutral. “I don’t do secondhand.”
Danny moved closer. "You’d do me. Any way you could get me."
Sport fucking hated him, and he hated that he wanted the man under him, begging for mercy. That would be a mistake though; he couldn’t trust a word a man like O’Sullivan said. “Cut the games. Either shoot me or step out of the way so I can get back to my evening.”
Danny took another few steps toward him. Sport could have reached out and touched him, made a grab for Danny’s weapon or.... something else.
Danny reached out and drew a line down Sport’s chest with the tip of his gun. Sport didn’t flinch. Danny wasn’t going to shoot him, not that night anyway. After a while, you learned to tell who was likely to pull the trigger and who wasn't. Danny had no intention of ending things yet. He was the type who enjoyed the game far more than the outcome. He liked pitting himself against other operatives and coming out on top.
Sport could make sure he enjoyed coming on the bottom too.
Fuck. Those thoughts needed to stop immediately. What was the right way out? A bargain? An exchange? Honesty? It was surprising how often the truth actually worked.
“What else does your busy evening entail? Going home to jerk off thinking about me?” Danny asked.
Son of a bitch! No. Hell no. “I don’t have time to compare calendar notes. And drop the accent. We both know it’s not real.”
“Ah, but I’m thinkin’ ya like it, me boyo.”
Of course he fucking liked it. Danny even sounded like sex. Smooth, slick, consciousness-altering sex.
Silvia Violet writes erotic romance in a variety of genres including paranormal, contemporary, sci fi, and historical. She can be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like "Do you write children's books?" She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she's actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinfully delicious treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading to her incorrigible offspring.
Connect with Silvia
Tour Dates: 7/28 – 8/1
7/28: Prism Book Alliance, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, MM Good Book Reviews
7/29: My Fiction Nook, Amanda C. Stone, Parker Williams
7/30: The Novel Approach, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Emotion in Motion
7/31: The Blogger Girls, Smoocher’s Voice,
8/1: The Hat Party, Love Bytes, Velvet Panic
Cover Artist: Najla Qambers Publisher: Self-published
““You’re not asking someone studied—you know? I guess the rough kind of good. Like when you floss your teeth till your gums bleed. Hurts a bit, but the taste and feel are good to you.”
My first “real” talk came from you in 1992. I was fourteen sitting on the edge of my father’s leather recliner watching you cut the edges off a peanut butter sandwich. You didn’t have any tattoos back then. You had on this red sweater with blue stripes swishing through it. That pesky string of acne was still running down your right cheek when you offered me half of the sandwich.
“Anna. Why do you want to know about sex—from me?”
I wanted to tell you that the walls in my house had grown thin. Even with the stretches of screeching cars passing by and gargled whispers from the Mississippi River outside, I could hear everything tiptoeing inside. The high pitched turned guttural shrieks the women in my brother’s magazines evoked. The sound of the calluses on his hands attacking flesh like rubberized sandpaper; then, the wheezing attack followed by a hushed “guuu-ah” and tissues sopping up warm ooze. The late-night lullaby to my summers had changed, and I wanted to know the words.” –Excerpt from Intellectuals Are Fools
Tour Date: 7/29/14
Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Cate Ashwood, Smoocher’s Voice, Emotion in Motion, Prism Book Alliance, MM Good Book Reviews, Havan Fellows, My Fiction Nook, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Kimi-Chan, Iyana Jenna, Michael Mandrake, Love Bytes, Velvet Panic
Author Bio: Jennifer Cie is a Tennessee native who loves taking aimless road trips, taste testing whiskey and low grade tequila—for science, and writing about social issues in everyday life. Self-proclaimed writer of “two cups of morning coffee” length books, Cie is the author of the fictional work Memphis Rain, creative non-fiction memoir Burn It, and the upcoming collection of short stories entitled Down On The Other Street.
When she is not getting lost driving across state lines, you can find her rambling about book formatting, poor life decisions, and everything in between on her blog: www.journeytopaperback.com.
Rafflecopter Code: a Rafflecopter giveaway
I used to hate baseball. When I was growing up it seemed everyone around me was fixated on the sport. I was horrible at playing it, I never understood the rules and when a game was on TV everything else stopped.
Then I grew up, went to college and found out there was more to sports than watching the event. There were things that went with the games, like discussions and parties, general socialization. I still didn’t like baseball, but I liked joining in on the things that went with it.
A little while later, I married a man who loved baseball of all things, and had children. Those children like their father, enjoyed baseball. I didn’t like baseball (or its cousin softball) but I was a regular attendee. Eventually I became a single mother. The entire time my kids were growing up one of the biggest challenges was to find things to do we all liked and that were affordable.
Attending baseball games (and later basketball) became our common ground. My kids played softball through school. When she was older my daughter was on a flag team for her high school band, so her brothers and I attended those sporting events as well. Many of the prizes the kids won in school were cheap baseball tickets. We live in Cleveland, Ohio. Indians tickets were cheap in the 90’s.
When my sons grew old enough to join an adult softball league I took the dogs and my daughter and I often went and watched. The half-naked, sweaty, in shape men on the softball teams had nothing to do with our interest—honest!
In one of my recent releases, Electric Candle, Jonas Forge is a 239 year old vampire who has been a vampire for a bit more than 200 of those years. He meets his soul mate, a 29 year old vampire, Blair Turner. Blair has been a vampire all of five years. While these two men may outwardly appear close in age there is actually a 210 year age span between them.
Talk about your May/December romance.
Forge and Blair begin their romance and relationship on shaky ground. The nature of their soul mate bond provides for attraction physically to one another and an emotional bond that grows into love.
It does not, however, help them like one another.
So often, in romance, we are so focused in the characters falling in love that we forget they also have to fall in like as well.
It was a challenge finding common ground for these two. They struggled to find a place for themselves as a couple. By the book’s end they’re still on shaky ground, but it’s not as shaky as when the book began. Blair has an passionate interest in history and Forge lived through quite a lot of history. While Forge is a movie fan, Blair is a graphic novel reader, but they both enjoy a good hero saga.
Forge and Blair gradually discover they each have valuable insight to offer each other. They also realize that their differences aren’t so great and they have much more in common than they first thought.
Then, of course, there is baseball.
A detail that didn’t make it into Electric Candle, but will probably show up eventually, is the fact both these guys are baseball fans. I suspect the teams they root for are going to be different and provide some interesting exchanges between them.
Go Tribe! (I’m now a confirmed Cleveland baseball fan).
Hello to Tara Lain. She brings with her today her latest book The Pack or the Panther.
Cole Harker, son of an alpha werewolf, is bigger and more powerful than most wolves, tongue-tied in groups, and gay. For twenty-four years, he’s lived to please his family and pack—even letting them promise him in marriage to female werewolf Analiese to secure a pack alliance and help save them from a powerful gangster who wants their land. Then Cole meets Analiese’s half-brother, panther shifter Paris Marketo, and for the first time, Cole wants something for himself.
When Analiese runs off to marry a human, Cole finally has a chance with Paris, but the solitary cat rejects him, the pack, and everything it represents. Then Cole discovers the gangster wants Paris too and won’t rest until he has him. What started as a land dispute turns into World War Wolf! But the bigger fight is the battle between cats and dogs.
Cole took hold of a branch a few feet from Paris. “Do you think the alliance will stand?” He shrugged. “Hard to say. I know everyone hopes so, so I hope so too.” Cole pulled his eyebrows together. “But you don’t really care.”
Paris looked up sharply. “Yes, I care. I care about my parents. They’ve been good to me and I owe them a lot. I’m a freak by wolf standards, and my father has never abjured me. I honestly believe he kept me separate for my well-being more than his own. He acknowledges me as his son even though I remind him of his greatest sorrow.”
“Your panther mother.” He nodded. “And Trixie isn’t a brave female. My existence is difficult for her, but she’s been nothing but good to me. She had to stand against the combined disapproval of a lot of other females for me. They didn’t know what I was, but they knew I was Merced’s first wife’s son. They weren’t kind. She was. I value her and want the best.”
Cole nodded. If there was one thing he understood, it was loyalty.
“And then there’s you.”
Cole glanced up. Look at that mischievous face. He’d switched from deeply serious to court jester in one second flat. “What about me?” He grinned.
The cat danced around his tree, unfastening buttons on his shirt with intricate skill. “You want the alliance and I want you. Isn’t that an Aristotelian principle? If A equals B and B equals C, then Paris wants Cole to have his alliance so Paris can have Cole’s big yummy cock in his ass. An ass, I might add, that’s been throbbing like a voodoo drum since I first looked in your silver eyes, wolfman.” He whipped off the shirt, leaving his upper body bare.
Wow. Even knowing what was coming, that sight was hard to believe. The cat’s skin glowed in the moonlight like so much alabaster formed into a work of art. If you liked bulky, you wouldn’t like Paris. But if the look of a black leopard stealing along a branch stilled your heart, this sight would do it for you down to the ground. Not really slim. More like lean, with muscles just where they should be, but as if they were made of silk rather than stone. Fluid.
Paris reached and grabbed a branch, then pulled himself up one-armed until he leaned over the wood on his belly. Flip. He circled and came up to sitting, his upper body glowing and long legs dangling. He spread his arms out for a second as if balancing on a tightrope. Then he reached in and started to unfasten his belt. Slowly, he slipped it from his trousers, then swung it over his head until it caught on an upper branch.
He pulled himself to standing and used one hand to slowly lower his fly. White showed in the gap. Oh my. Not white underwear. White skin. Cole shuddered. He wasn’t used to this kind of sexy. Hell, who was? This cat was one of a kind.
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 21. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Havan Fellows, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, My Fiction Nook, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Prism Book Alliance, Amanda C. Stone, Romance the Night, Redz World, Emotion in Motion, Cate Ashwood, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Hearts on Fire, Velvet Panic, Kimber Vale, MM Good Book Reviews, Iyana Jenna, Night Owl Reviews, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Kimi-Chan, Buffy’s Ramblings, Michael Mandrake
Hello and a big welcome to SA McAuley who is here to talk about her new book: Damaged Package.
Forced into early retirement from his career as a SWAT officer for the city of Detroit, James Deacon knew that when he failed it would be a fall of epic proportions. He’s been living life by the tips of his fingers for over twenty years, and his new gig organizing a group of misfit military types into a functioning team—including his reluctant ex-fiancée—won’t return him to stable ground anytime soon.
Trevor Barrow has been on the move for the last seven years—hitting the road when relationships became too real or too much work. He’s home now, working in the hazardous world of bike messengers in the Motor City, and the only one of his eight siblings who knows he’s returned is his sister Cat. It’s not as if reconnecting with them matters anyway, because it’s likely he’ll be gone again soon.
Both men are lugging some heavy baggage, but when they chance upon each other in a dive bar it’s hard to deny their flaws are more like symbiotic quirks. Trevor’s backpedaling instincts and Deacon’s dance-dance party past may just be intersecting at a time when things are about to get explosive in Detroit.
Deacon paid for their last-round of drinks and they stood at the bar as the lights clicked on. He reached out and swept back a lock of Trav’s fringe, letting his fingers linger against Trav’s sweat-slick skin.
“You gotta let me take you home,” Deacon said.
Trav scoffed and took a drink of his beer. “Worst pick up line ever.”
“I thought the worst was saying that I’d never seen you at Honest John’s before?”
“Yeah. You’re pretty bad all around.”
But instead of feeding Trav another line, Deacon made the conscious decision to give an honest reply. “Dating’s just not my scene.”
Trav tipped his head and studied him. “You know what? I don’t know if I’m supposed to believe you and be reeled in by how unconventional you are, or if this is all a game for you.”
He shrugged. Already he knew there was little he could do to sway Trav either way—Trav was perceptive. “I’ll give you time to decide that for yourself. In the mean time, though, I’m serious. Let me at least ride with you in the cab back to your place. I don’t live far from you and it will make me feel better to know you’re safe.”
“I ride a bike in downtown Detroit for a living, James. Pretty sure I can handle myself.”
Deacon’s lips curled into a smile at both Trav’s use of his first name and his brash confidence. “I’m positive you can.”
“Well, then… What? That doesn’t…” Trav pursed his lips together in a thin line and left the remains of his trailing thoughts unsaid. Trav took another swig from his beer, emptying the cup and setting it on the bar. “Whatever. Yeah, you can take me home. But I’m not inviting you up. Got it?”
Deacon would take it. He held out his hand and waited for Trav to decide it was okay to take this one small step. When Trav’s fingers curled around his after only a heartbeat of hesitation, Deacon worked through the lingering crowd to the front door, unable to wipe the triumphant smile from his face.
The ride back into the city didn’t take as long as it had to get out to Ferndale. The city became a ghost town after a certain time of night. And they’d passed that threshold hours ago. They rode in silence, with hands still touching if not intertwined, and when they pulled up to the Park Shelton, Deacon paid the cabbie and got out with Trav.
It took a moment for Trav to realize what had just happened. He watched the cab drive away, glared at Deacon, back down the road, then put his hands on his hips. “Whoa. Whatcha doing getting out of the cab? I distinctly remember not inviting you up.”
“Huh,” was all Deacon said as he pointed at the cab disappearing around a corner. “But there goes my ride.”
“I’m not a first date slut.”
Deacon groaned playfully, but his heart skipped a happy beat to hear Trav considered this a date, too. “You're not going to make me count out dates or something like that, are you?”
Trav’s fingers drummed against hips as he seemed to be considering his options. Yet barely restraining a smile at the same time. “Just for that response? Maybe.”
Deacon dropped to his knees on the sidewalk, and raised his clasped hands to the heavens, pleading to Trav in an overly loud voice, "Please, Trevor Barrow! What do I have to do for you to let me up to your apartment, Trevor Barrow? I just want to watch the History Channel or maybe So You Think You Can Dance, Trevor Barrow. I promise I have nothing lewd or lascivious—”
A group of female college students walking by giggled at his display, providing a running commentary as they eyed the scene unfolding on the sidewalk. “Dude, Trevor Barrow, you should let him up.” Then, “He's cute. He can come back to my place.”
Deacon couldn't have planned his public begging session better.
Trav blushed and laughed out loud. “Alright. Off your knees.”
“At least for now!” one of the girls yelled as they turned the corner.
Trav sighed, offered his hand and pulled Deacon up toward the front entrance of his apartment building. “You're going to give me a reputation, Deacon.”
“I earn every reputation I give.” Deacon smirked and held the door open for Trav once he’d swiped his key card.
“Where did the tears suddenly disappear to? The histrionics?”
He shrugged. “I got my way.”
Trav stopped in the doorway and looked up at Deacon wide-eyed. “Holy shit. You really are certifiable.”
Deacon ran his finger along Trav’s jawline, wanting nothing more than to kiss Trav. But whether Trav wanted to believe it or not, what happened between them next was up to Trav. “Cat’s completely right. She just should have waited for you to find that out on your own.”
Trav shook his head, his voice laden with sarcasm, but his stunning eyes crinkled at the corners in silent laughter, “Yeah, like that would've taken me long.”
A Little About SA McAuley
I sleep little, read a lot. Happiest in a foreign country. Twitchy when not mentally in motion. My name is Sam, not Sammy, definitely not Samantha. I’m a pretty dark/cynical/jaded person, but I hide that darkness well behind my obsession(s) for shiny objects. I’m the macabre wrapped in irresistible bubble wrap and a glittery pink bow, I suppose.
Tour Dates: 7/14/14
Tour Stops: MM Good Book Reviews, Parker Williams, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Havan Fellows, Prism Book Alliance, Nephylim, Velvet Panic, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Fallen Angel Reviews, My Fiction Nook, The Hat Party, Sinfully Sexy, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Amanda C. Stone, Love Bytes, Smoocher’s Voice, Dawn’s Reading Nook, Full Moon Dreaming, Pants Off Review, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, It’s Raining Men, Michael Mandrake, Iyana Jenna, Emotion in Motion, Kimi-Chan
A big welcome and lots of luck with your new book! Congratulations, Charley!
First I’d like to thank Pride Promotions for arranging this tour, Elizabeth Noble for inviting me to visit their lovely space, and D.W. Skinner and Paul Richmond for my gorgeous cover!
I’ve been writing for a long time, but The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds is the first full-length novel I get to share with the world. During all the years I spent writing, and dreaming of the day when I could say I am a novelist, I also made plans.
I don’t set out to write political or message novels, but after growing up in the Bay Area in the 70s and spending my share of time in the trenches, it’s hard to separate the activist from the author. Like many other writers, I have trunk novels that will probably never see the light of day (you’re welcome ;)). Each of those trunk novels included a plan for giving a portion of any earnings to a relevant charity.
The two main characters in The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds, Phil and Lee, have both been touched by depression and suicide—and since The Trevor Project is one of my favorite national charities, it seemed like a good fit.
I’ll donate $1 for every pre-order of The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds to The Trevor Foundation, in support of their efforts to provide crisis intervention and suicide prevention for LGBTQ youth.
Visit my blog for a running tally of pre-orders. I’ll update the tally every few days, and post the final total on August 11.
Thank you all for helping me raise awareness, and a little cash, for this very worthwhile cause!
Pre-order The Nesting Habits of Strange Birds through Dreamspinner Press.
All he ever wanted was to be a normal guy….
Phil Brask spends his days in the basement of his mentor's Victorian home, converting legal documents into electronic format. When the pipe feeding the water heater bursts, Lee Redding arrives in the plumber’s truck and draws Phil away from the narrow focus of his computer and camera lens. Lee gives Phil hope for a life beyond the walls he’s constructed using the nesting habits of migratory birds and dense legal files, a guided tour through a world filled with romance and music…maybe even family. But there’s a reason Phil retreated behind those walls, why he panics at a simple touch.
Lee has a good life—working with his uncle and on his mother’s farm, playing bass in a horrible metal band, and hooking up when he pleases—but he’s always suspected something was missing. When he meets the hot photographer with the icy-blue eyes, he knows exactly what that something is. Phil isn’t like other guys, but neither is Lee beneath his carefree exterior. Maybe Lee's the perfect guy to show Phil that everything doesn’t have to be done the hard way and "home" isn't a four-letter word.
Charley Descoteaux has always heard voices. She was relieved to learn they were fictional characters, and started writing when they insisted daydreaming just wasn’t good enough. In exchange, they let her sleep once in a while. Home is Portland, Oregon, where the weather is like your favorite hard-case writing buddy who won’t let you get away with taking too many days off, and in some places you can be as weird as you are without fear. As an out and proud bisexual and life-long weird-o, she thinks that last part is pretty cool.
Rattle my cages, I’d love to hear from you!
Connect with Charley
“Your pictures, they’re amazing.” Lee said, his voice calm and steady and filled with sincere awe. “What’s this in her beak?”
Lee carefully scrolled forward, and Phil realized Lee had thumbed through all the pictures from that morning and some from last evening as well. He’d been out of it longer than he thought.
“It’s a spiderweb. Hummingbirds use them to build their nests.”
Two sentences. Phil couldn’t remember when he’d last gotten two sentences out just the way he’d intended. He smiled and raised his eyes to Lee’s. They seemed to mirror what he was feeling. Relief; happiness; desire. The next thing he knew, Lee’s lips brushed his lightly. Phil trembled but didn’t pull away. Pride in his perfect speech along with the giddy feeling inspired by Lee’s smile allowed Phil to give in to desire, just for a moment, to take a chance it would end well. Lee leaned toward him, but not so their shoulders touched, and kissed him just a few seconds longer. He kept his mouth almost completely closed, but Phil tasted a hint of hot chocolate. Or maybe the heat came from Lee.
“Whoa,” Lee sighed as much as said.
Tour Dates: 7/11/14
Parker Williams, Hearts on Fire, Emotion in Motion, Love Bytes, My Fiction Nook, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Jade Crystal, Smoocher’s Voice, Full Moon Dreaming, Lee Brazil, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Iyana Jenna, Amanda C. Stone, Tara Lain, Redz World, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Fallen Angel Reviews, Romance the Night, Velvet Panic, Kimi-Chan, The Hat Party, MM Good Book Reviews, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Lee Brazil, Decadent Delights, Havan Fellows, Kimber Vale, EE Montgomery, Michael Mandrake, Cate Ashwood, Dawn’s Reading Nook
Please give a big welcome to Jackie Nacht. She's here with a excerpt and you can enter the rafflecopter drawing for some lovely prizes.
Knox seethed in the common area as Oren came over and sat next to him. He loved that Oren and Daegal had finally gotten their shit together and were happy, but he couldn’t stand being in this room another minute.
“How are you doing?” Oren asked.
Across the room, Knox watched as that fucker Duke was giving the small Omega, Myles, shit. Myles was one of the smallest shifters there, only five foot six and sweet, too. Yeah, that was the right word for him. Sweet, because even during his shift, the noises he would make while in pain were these little, Ow. Ow. Ow, while everyone else was screaming their fucking heads off.
“I fucking hate this. Every month, it’s the same.” Knox gritted out.
Knox watched as Duke grabbed a hold of Myles.
In an uncontrollable rage, Knox crossed the room. He was all over Duke, pounding into the Alpha, uncaring if he killed the asshole. He was thirsty to end this guy as his fists connected over and over with Duke’s face.
Shouts could be heard from a distance. Sloan, his best friend and Alpha, was there screaming at him, but he was lost. Lost to the anger, the smell of blood; he craved more.
Then, suddenly, Knox was pulled off. How dare they take him from his kill? A growl erupted deep within him and unleashed on those that interfered.
He was ready to go back at Duke when Malach came into his vision. The look of sorrow on his face had Knox baring his teeth. Malach pulled a syringe and struck him with it.
The world became fuzzy along the edges, and Knox suddenly had a little clarity. What the hell am I doing? That was his last thought before he fell into darkness.
Talk to Jackie!
Tour Dates: 7/7/14
Tour Stops: Velvet Panic, Redz World, Iyana Jenna, MM Good Book Reviews, SA McAuley, Kimi-Chan, Emotion in Motion, Night Owl Reviews, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Amanda C. Stone, Prism Book Alliance, Fallen Angel Reviews, Book Whores United, Love Bytes, Parker Williams, The Blogger Girls, Dawn’s Reading Nook, It’s Raining Men, Michael Mandrake
Today I welcome EE Montgomery, thank you for stopping by. I love creating book titles and can't write without having one. So, I was very pleased when EE offered some of her own insight on that same subject and brought us a wonderful book.
I find titles incredibly difficult to choose—or incredibly easy. I like to have a title that has some relevance to the story and resonates with it or me. I’m a character-driven writer and my titles reflect that. Generally, my titles reflect something about the character’s life or the core of their personality. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I get it very wrong.
Ordinary People, as a title, came to me within the first paragraph of writing. It had no other incarnations. Vinnie is such an ordinary person that you’d never think there’d be anything extraordinary about his life. He’s a study in contrasts from macro to micro, and I like that the title foreshadows the contrasts. It’s a good title and I can’t think of another one that would work better, but it would also be a good title for a series.My historical stories have been difficult to choose titles for. Both Between Love and Honor and The Courage to Love began life as something else entirely. Between Love and Honor was originally submitted as My Heart is Broken but luckily was changed before publication. The Courage to Love started life as From Over There, a disaster of a title. I didn’t settle on the current title until I’d finished the book and was onto the third version in my editing before submission.
One of my disaster titles is What About Him. That’s the question that ran through my head the whole time I was writing the story but it stopped me thinking beyond that question when it came to choosing a title.
Blurb: When Queensland Police Force Constable James Laramee raids a hotel room, he finds Vinnie Canterbury on top of a naked, dead man, covered in blood. Vinnie promptly vomits all over James’s shoes.
Thanks to a cocktail of horse sedatives and Hendra vaccine, Vinnie’s memories of his ordeal are fractured. Finding the culprits and the reasons behind his abduction will be a challenge. With his apartment trashed, his building set on fire, and his clothes, phone and wallet gone, Vinnie needs a place to stay. To his surprise, James not only takes him in, but also lets him cry on his shoulder. It must be true love. Vinnie has plans for his future with James all mapped out, and he hopes he can get James on the same page.
Excerpt: His bed was stripped to the mattress. The shredded mattress. Foam stuffing bubbled up between the slashes like pus weeping from an infected wound. He tore his attention from the bed to find his sheets and duvet scattered all over the floor. In pieces. He whimpered.
“I just bought that set.” He pressed his fingers against his lips. Even in his shock he recognized the inanity of his comment. His gaze was drawn to the freestanding full-length mirror beside the windows. Black writing marred the polished surface.
NEXT TIME DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD FAG OR THE SAME WILL HAPPEN TO YOU.
He turned to see Laramee beside him, his hand again clamped on Vinnie’s arm. “What was I told?” he whispered. “I don’t know what I was told.”
It was too much. He flung himself at Laramee, buried his face in the warm, slightly harsh fabric of his uniform, ignored the button digging into his forehead, and burst into tears.
“I don’t even know your name. I can’t sob all over you if I don’t know your name,” he wailed.
Tour Dates & Stops:
7/3 – Emotion in Motion
7/10 – Smoocher’s Voice
7/17 – Prism Book Alliance
7/24 – MM Good Book Reviews
7/31 – Velvet Panic
8/7 – Because Two Men Are Better Than One
8/14 – Decadent Delights
8/14 – Hearts on Fire
8/14 – Love Bytes
8/21 – Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
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Blurb: Archer Hehnier is a hard-core businessman through and through. He's not afraid to make the merciless decisions, to put in the long hours, to lose himself in his work for the greater good of his company and his clients…even if it means losing a piece of himself in the process. But when does a man with a mind always turning at two hundred rotations per second get his personal needs met?
Dalton is an uncompromising businessman, who could, no doubt, go toe-to-toe with Archer in the boardroom—but that's not the room Dalton wants to tackle Archer in.
With a little help from his friends at the premier BDSM club, The Sanctuary, Dalton hopes to fulfill every one of Archer's hidden needs.
**Previously released as part of the Don't Read in the Closet V.II M/M Romance Collection in 2011. Since then it has been reworked and edited for your reading enjoyment.
Cover Artist: Allison Cassatta
Publisher: Appleton Publishing Avenue
I watched him walk in exactly at seven. You could set your watch by him. I knew his routine—bar for a double scotch neat then a corner table for two, but only he would occupy it. As usual on Thursdays, he ordered the fisherman's catch: salmon, a spring salad with strawberries, and steamed baby veggies. The only starch he allowed to pass between those thin sharp lips tonight was a well-buttered roll, no potatoes for my man, and no alcohol with dinner either. He favored water with fresh squeezed lime and was very adamant with the server about the simple fact lemon was not a substitution.
Even at this late hour and having put in a full day of numbers, his attire was never mussed—Armani was safe on his capable body. I couldn't wait for him to roll in here Friday. It was my favorite day to see him. He broke away from his favored charcoals and wore color. The third Friday of the month…hmm…oh yes, green. Love him in his deep green suit with the lighter shade silk shirt and tie.
I always found it amusing how everyone maneuvered around his table, purposely walking on the other side of tables out of their way. My man had an aura about him, sort of a "back the fuck off before I eradicate you with just my thoughts" type of thing going on. Of course he wouldn't curse. Foul language was beneath someone who could make a grown man cry with just a cock of the eyebrow.
Yes…Archer Hehnier was a badass in constant control of his surroundings. All of them. From the strangers that walked in and out of his life to the paid help at his overpriced house. I even suspected that he had a way of turning all the traffic lights green on his drive home, but hadn't been able to test that theory yet.
So why did I eat at this same restaurant practically every night and memorize his routine? Simple, he had something I wanted, and I had something he needed. And I do believe that green Friday would be the day I explain this to him. That should be interesting.
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