If you’ve ever dated anyone, chances are you’ve had some version of the awkward, unpleasant, or just downright embarrassing version of the meet-the-parents experience. For me, it was the first time I met the woman who would become my mother-in-law: I had just slept over at her house, with my then-boyfriend, now-husband, Ben.
As far as I knew, his mother was fine with him having girl- and/or boyfriends sleep over. But I’d never slept with someone and then had to look their parents in the eye before. As far as my emotional state was concerned, embarrassment was an understatement. Like, what smalltalk was I supposed to make while standing in the kitchen of a woman I’d never met before, whose son I had just slept with. Also, I was in my pajamas. It is hard to feel like an adult in pajamas.
Like in Twelfth Night, when Michael has to admit to his parents that he’s dating someone seventeen years older than him, and John has to admit to his parents that his boyfriend is seventeen years younger than him...and a boy.
We love writing about people navigating romantic relationships and having awesome sexytimes (and Twelfth Night has plenty of both). But we also really like the fun, and farce, and yes, embarrassment, of people meeting their S.O.’s parents for the first time. Because no matter how embarrassing or awkward things get as our heroes try to introduce their boyfriends to their families, it makes a great story.
Michael and John, a May/December couple, navigated the repercussions of their gay-for-you love affair in the hothouse of a summerstock theater production.
Back in New York City at the conclusion of their show’s run, John is overwhelmed by his obsession with Michael and the difficulties of learning to date again after the death of his young son and his recent divorce. John gradually comes out to his colleagues, his football rec league friends, and even his ex-wife.
But when he invites his parents over for Christmas to meet the person he’s been seeing, the holiday—featuring Michael’s family’s amateur production of Twelfth Night—quickly turns into a French farce of potentially catastrophic proportions, forcing John finally to take the lead in claiming his evolving identity as he takes the next step in his relationship with Michael.
Erin McRae is a queer writer and blogger based in Washington, D.C. She has a master’s degree in International Affairs from American University, and delights in applying her knowledge of international relations theory to her fiction and screen-based projects, because conflict drives narrative.
Racheline Maltese lives a big life from a small space. She flies planes, sails boats, and rides horses, but as a native New Yorker, has no idea how to drive a car. A long-time entertainment and media industry professional, she lives in Brooklyn with her partner and their two cats.
Together, they are co-authors of the gay romance series Love in Los Angeles, set in the film and television industry -- Starling (September 10, 2014), Doves (January 21, 2015), and Phoenix (June 10, 2015) -- from Torquere Press. Their gay romance novella series Love’s Labours, set in the theater world -- Midsummer (May 2015), and Twelfth Night (Fall 2015), is from Dreamspinner Press. They also have a story in Best Gay Romance 2015 from Cleis Press and edited by Felice Picano. You can find them on the web at http://www.Avian30.com.
Social media links:
Joint Blog: http://Avian30.com
Joint Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/Erin.and.Racheline
Erin’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/erincmcrae
Racheline’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/racheline_m
Erin’s Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8323893.Erin_McRae
Racheline’s Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1015335.Racheline_Maltese
Erin’s Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Erin-McRae/e/B00M7A0SVC
Racheline’s Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Racheline-Maltese/e/B001JRVS2C
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25202261-twelfth-night
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Racheline_Maltese_Twelfth_Night?id=20VKCgAAQBAJ
John doesn’t expect Michael to be as weirdly taken with the ocean as he is with the wild woods. It doesn’t seem like his element the way the trees are. But he is mesmerized by the beach almost instantly upon their arrival, insisting they walk along the hard wet sand of the tide line. It doesn’t matter how many times John says their muscles will ache unhappily tomorrow from miles walked at the edge of the frigid fall water; Michael either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care enough to respond.
John is fascinated as Michael keeps a close eye on shells and rocks. One is shaped like a small egg, and he’s disappointed when it’s not. Still he makes John hold it for him, running ahead to a rock jetty to comb through the midden of mussel shells left by persistent and angry seagulls.
John tries not to be horrified, but the sight of Michael’s fingers picking through the dead bivalves and seaweed stinking in the sun is a bit much.
“What’s this?” Michael asks, eventually, holding out a shell, colored and swirled, to him.
It’s in perfect condition, and John is about to be impressed with the find until he realizes there’s still a creature using the shell as its home.
“That’s an animal in there.” He doesn’t actually know what kind. But it’s gelatinous and of the sea and not really a thing they should be messing with. They’ve seen dozens of jellyfish washed up on the beach already today.
“Does it go in the ocean or not in the ocean?”
“Ocean,” John says. He’s not 100 percent sure, but he suspects, like the jellyfish, the sun and the birds will eventually cook and peck it to nothing if it’s not saved by the sea.
Michael throws the shell back and returns to the tide line as they walk, gaze carefully on the ground and picking at every shell he sees that looks like whatever creature he just rescued. Most of them have their animals in them, and John suspects the coming hurricane that’s going to ruin their trip is churning them up.
As Michael throws each one back into the water, John is charmed that he’s trying to save creatures that have no spine, names he doesn’t know, and forms he’s never seen before.
Eventually Michael decides they can leave and reaches for John’s hand. John flinches away. It’s not the strangeness of the town this beach is attached to, half religious meeting town, half gay beach paradise. There’s even a club down the block from their inn that advertises “Less Lights, More Fun!” It’s that he can only think about whatever bacteria Michael is now coated in from all the dead mussels.
God, but he’s going to look like an idiot explaining that.
When he tries, stumbling through a mini monologue about seaweed and sea creatures and sand, Michael just listens with his head tipped to the side.
Finally John’s speech drags to a halt under Michael’s incredibly unimpressed gaze. He sighs and starts again.
“Okay. I swear the handholding thing has nothing to do with anything except your gross dead bivalve hands. But I think I may be freaking out.”
Michael blinks at him. “Did this start when we checked in and you had to deal with people who know we’re here to fuck?”
It’s sharp, but John knows he probably deserves it.
“You know I don’t mind being out in public with you,” he says cautiously. He wants to be honest with Michael, but he also doesn’t want to provoke anger by being less willing to be out than Michael deems sufficient.
Thankfully Michael considers John for a moment and then grins. “Somewhere in the romantic beach getaway, I got that.”
John lets out a relieved sigh and wraps an arm around Michael’s waist. He wants to prove his willingness to be fully in this relationship without shame, but life is also just better when they’re touching. Michael leans into his side, and they start walking down the sand again.
“But it’s something I can’t help being aware of,” John says quietly as they walk. “What we are and what people see when they look at me. Which apparently means I’ve found my internalized homophobia, and I am completely aware of how gross that is. I’m going to work on that, but there it is.”
“You still want to, like, go out to dinner tonight and make out on the boardwalk, though, right?”
“Oh my God, you have no idea. I want to tell everybody about you.”
Michael smirks. “So why don’t you?”
“Coming out at my age is kind of more complicated than it is at twelve. Or however old you were when you did.”
“I was fourteen, thank you.”
“So how did you come out to your parents?” John asks after they walk for a few minutes in silence.
Michael cracks up.
Michael buries his face in John’s arm and apparently can’t stop laughing. “You do understand how ridiculous this is, right?”
“I understand that I’m forty-two and have to come out to everyone in my entire life that I give a remote shit about, because you are addictive and fascinating and wonderful and also are sadly holding me to some pretty legitimate ethical standards. So help a guy out, okay?”
“I was making out with my first high school boyfriend in the living room, and my mom walked in.”
John is entirely not surprised. “So hey, when you meet my family, let’s not go with that plan, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Michael says, drawing the word out in a way that makes it clear it’s his turn to be defensive and weird.
John smirks, pleased to be off the hook for the moment. “You haven’t told them about us either,” he says smugly.
Michael mumbles something against John’s arm.
“What was that?”
“You’re really old,” Michael says. “And they’re going to freak.”
Who knew a welcome to the neighborhood gift could give Keith and Jason their chance at love?
Whiskers of a Chance
Other Books By Tempeste:
About the Author
Tempeste O’Riley is an out and proud pansexual genderfluid whose best friend growing up had the courage to do what they couldn’t—defy the hate and come out. He has been their hero ever since.
Tempe is a hopeless romantic who loves strong relationships and happily-ever-afters. Though new to writing M/M, they has done many things in their life, yet writing has always drawn them back—no matter what else life has thrown their way. They counts her friends, family, and Muse as their greatest blessings in life. They lives in Wisconsin with their children, reading, writing, and enjoying life.
Tempe is also a proud PAN member of Romance Writers of America, WisRWA, and Rainbow Romance Writers. Tempe’s preferred pronouns are they/them/their/theirs/themselves.
“Jason?” Keith asked after a few minutes of lying there quietly, holding Jason around his waist.
“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled into his shoulder.
Sorry? “What for?”
“I’ve never lost control like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continued. “Be still and I’ll clean you up.”
Jason lay there, trying to figure out what Keith was referring to, but his mind drew a blank. All he could think about was how wonderful and perfect being with Keith felt. When Keith returned with a warm cloth and a towel, he wiped the spend and lube off Jason from his navel to the top of his butt. He then produced another cloth and dabbed carefully along Jason’s hip.
“Ow!” Jason snapped and pulled away. Confused, he looked down and noted not only the marks he knew would be finger-shaped bruises shortly but also four puncture marks just above his hipbone. “What the hell?”
“I, um…. Be still and close your eyes for a moment,” Keith murmured, not meeting his gaze. “Please.”
Even with the evidence that Keith could, and had, hurt him, Jason still felt safe with Keith. He nodded and closed his eyes, unsure why he did so. He gasped a moment later when Keith’s tongue ran up his hip, slowly tracing the small cuts. Every time Keith licked him, he moaned as a flash of heat ran up and down his spine in a way he’d never felt before. The logical part of his brain wanted to push Keith away, knowing that human mouths and wounds didn’t mix; the rest of him told that part to shut the hell up and enjoy the moment.
“All better.” Keith’s voice was soft and tentative, which it hadn’t been since they’d met.
Jason opened his eyes and met Keith’s, again falling into the depths of the oceans within. “What?”
“I’ve waited for you, waited for so long to find someone like you, and when I do, I go off and hurt you the first time we’re together.” Keith whispered as if he were talking to himself, not Jason, which confused him even more.
“I don’t understand, Keith.”
“I know, just please believe me when I say it wasn’t intentional.”
Jason thought about it before he nodded. “It’s just a scratch, Keith. I’m the one who pushed you to be rougher. Now,” he added, looking around the room, “you think we could find a more comfortable place to cuddle than the floor?”
He didn’t want to move, but the cold tile wasn’t doing anything good for him. Keith helped Jason pull off the stubborn pants still clinging to one ankle. Jason then let out a yelp when Keith fluidly stood and proceeded to scoop him off the floor and carry him to the couch. Keith sat and pulled Jason between his thighs so Jason’s back rested against his chest and loosely wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist.
“Um, you have no drapes and we’re both still naked.”
“The only window with a view to where we’re sitting now is yours, so unless you have someone at home,” Keith rumbled, his tone turning possessive, “I don’t see the problem.”
Knowing Keith couldn’t see him, Jason smiled, pleased at the words and tone. “No, no one lives there but me. Not even a pet, unless you count my laptops,” he mumbled, post-sex lethargy claiming him quickly.
“Good—now rest, Jay. We can talk later.”
The last thing Jason felt and heard before sleep claimed him was Keith’s warmth and what he could have sworn was a cat purring.
Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing TS McKinney & BJ Grinder authors of Justice for Me
Hi, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.
We are fairly boring chicks who live in a tiny town in Tennessee. We use reading and writing as a way to escape the tiny-town boredom!! Our current book, Justice for Me, is the sequel to Wait for Me. It is a continuation of Malachi and Megan’s love story…with some naughty Justice added into the mix to amp up the drama and hot sexy submission!
What genre is your book and what drew you to this genre?
Justice for Me is a menage. We fell in love (absolutely in lust) with Malachi in Wait for Me but knew there would be problems in the future for him and Megan in the bedroom. Malachi has been (and always will be) a Dom. Megan doesn’t have a submissive bone in her body. We desperately wanted them to have a happy ending and decided adding Justice to their party of two would be perfect! We definitely aren’t saying it was an easy road for Justice and Malachi. What is it they say? Opposites attract. Yea, they are total opposites!
How many days a week do you write?
On average, how long does it take to write a book?
Writing the book usually takes us two months but that doesn’t include the editing and all the ‘not-so-fun’ stuff that it takes to make the magic happen!
Do you have a trailer for your book? If yes, give us the link. If not, do you think you’d like to have one done at some point?
We haven’t made a trailer for Justice for Me yet. There was one for Wait for Me, so maybe we’ll get there!
If I could be a character in a book, I would be _Megan!!______?
Two hot guys at your disposal? Heck yea!
“Take your sweats off.”
Malachi’s demand came in the sexiest sounding voice he’d ever heard. It was deep and husky, firm and unyielding. Prickling sensations started at his scalp and worked its way down the rest of his body, leaving him humming with the same feeling he’d gotten the minute Malachi had slapped those cuffs around his wrists last night.
“Wh…what? He stuttered like a stupid school kid. Instead of sexy like Malachi, his voice sounded several octaves higher than normal.
“Take. Your. Sweats. Off.” Malachi’s eyes swept the boy from top to bottom, loving the way his exhausted muscles were quivering and coated with sweat. A man’s body was always more beautiful after pumping iron; muscles standing out and begging to be seen.
Violet eyes challenged pale blue eyes. Shyness struggled with desire. Heterosexual battled against…what the fuck am I doing?
Sweat pants came off and were tossed aside. “Okay. Sweat pants gone. What now, Malachi?”
Malachi’s breath came out in a huff. The kid’s body was…
Damn, he wanted to dominate, punish, and fuck this kid so badly. More than that, he wanted Justice to want it.
“I’m going to look at you. Stay still; arms out to your side and legs spread.”
The kid moved into position without the slightest hesitation.
Malachi walked around him, admiring every detail in the work of art formally known as annoying Justice. The boy’s eyes glittered as he watched Malachi watching him. No; nothing submissive at all in that gaze…until Malachi demanded it of him. The defiance was…fetching. He’d never found it attractive in a sub before, but it fit Justice well.
His fingers grazed his shoulders, tracing the length of firmly muscled arms until he reached a wrist. He’d noticed the boy had a tattoo around each wrist, like a bracelet of some kind. Looking closely now, he saw it was decorative letters. FOCUS; on the right wrist. LET GO; on the left wrist. He also noticed the kid tensed up like a man at his first prostrate examination the minute his fingertips touched the first wrist.
“What do these words mean?”
“Nothing of importance,” Justice answered in a clipped voice that didn’t fit the boy at all.
“It must be important for you to permanently mark yourself with it. Private, maybe?”
Justice tried to offer a nonchalant shrug. He thought he’d succeeded, but he hadn’t. Malachi just decided to let it ride for now.
“I got them when I was seventeen. Everything’s fucked up when you’re seventeen so who knows what the hell I was thinking? It was probably the answers to some pop quiz I thought I was going to have to take.”
Malachi seriously doubted it. At seventeen, a parent had to sign off on a tattoo. “Let’s say we’ll revisit that one at a later date, okay?” He kept walking around the kid, admiring, commenting, touching with soft touches that he suspected was lighting the boy on fire. “You asked me this morning about last night; about it being…weird, I believe is the word you used to describe it.” He paused when he stood directly in front of Justice. “Why would you call it weird?”
Justice’s eyes darted to the left and then the right, a carefree smirk on his face. “Eh, maybe because I got turned on by a grown man spanking my ass,” he suggested. “Or maybe it was because I let a man threaten to fuck my ass…while giving me a hand job and I had the best fucking orgasm I can ever remember having?” He shrugged. “The last time I checked, I was totally into the babes. Dudes were off limits.”
A soft chuckle tickled Justice’s ears, making him turn what he suspected was a very feminine shade of fucking pink. The chuckle wasn’t Malachi laughing; it was Malachi laughing at him. Perfect.
“Not into dudes, huh?” Malachi asked. “You could have fooled me.”
“Yea, I get that,” Justice said between gritted teeth. “No need to keep waving that flag in my face, asshole. The fuck knows it has to be your looks because it damn well can’t be your personality that had me going all ‘ass-up’.”
The kid was refreshingly honest. Rarely surprised by people, Malachi couldn’t help but be shocked by how the boy kept surprising him; one time right after another. “Does it bother you? That you might ‘be into dudes’?” He had to ask.
Another shrug. “No…I don’t know. I have a lot of gay friends. I guess I just didn’t know I might be one of them.”
“I’ve seen you chasing skirts, Justice. I’m pretty certain you aren’t gay; maybe not even bisexual. It could be that your body just enjoyed the discipline…the domination, and you responded sexually.”
No, Justice was fairly certain that wasn’t it. Sure, there was no questioning the domination scene had gotten his body, mind, heart, and soul on fire, but it was more than that. It was Malachi. Every fucking thing about Malachi, how totally opposite he was from himself, had caused him to be on edge, hypersensitive to everything the man did from the first moment he noticed his posture and the strong glint in his eyes up until he’d tossed him over his shoulder and tied him up.
It would be easy to take what he would consider the coward’s way out and blame it solely on a physical response from getting what he’d been wanting for oh so long, but he wasn’t a coward. He could be accused of a lot of things, most of them not good, but a coward he was not. He faced outward demons without hesitation. It was the inner demons that always did him in.
If he was gay; he was gay. If he was bisexual; he was bisexual. Those issues didn’t worry him that much or at least probably not as much as they should. What did worry him was how he was going to convince the cold-as-ice man to keep playing with him, like he’d mentioned last night. This lifestyle…this playtime with Malachi was safe for him; his body got to submit and his head didn’t have to get involved. This wasn’t a relationship where he would have to try to maneuver around and read how people felt, what they wanted, if they really cared…
If he understood the little bit of research he had done on the BDSM lifestyle, Malachi was a dominant that wanted him to submit to him; nothing more, nothing less.
He struggled to come up with the right thing to say to the man that would push him into the direction he wanted to go. “It’s no doubt my body responded to what you did physically but I definitely didn’t get turned off by your touching me…sexually.” He cocked a brow at the bigger, much more confident man. “Are you afraid I’ll cry rape or sexual abuse to my daddy? Maybe after you tie me up, spank my ass, and do what-the-fuck-else ever to me, I’ll get the heebie jeebies and instead of admitting I liked it, file myself an FBI complaint?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry old man. It won’t happen. I accept the consequences for my actions.”
Malachi had remained silent as he watched the boy closely; watched all the strange emotions flicker across his face as he contemplated what might lay ahead between the two of them. It was fairly obvious the BDSM lifestyle was something he had considered prior to getting his ass hog-tied and whipped and his cock manhandled. All the signals that he had missed originally were out in the open now. The boy was virtually screaming to be initiated; to take a sample and see if he liked it.
There were other emotions dancing around in those wide blue eyes; things Malachi didn’t understand or couldn’t read. It was somewhat troubling but not enough to make him want to rethink what he and Megan had discussed. Justice seemed solid and self-assured. He had the feeling the kid tackled everything he did, from talking to learning to submit, with every ounce of energy bridled up in that lean body of his.
He would be fun. He would be exciting. He would be frisky. And, if Malachi wasn’t mistaken, he would be an excellent submissive. His body had responded marvelously last night. The sassy mouth on the kid seemed to vanish whenever an order was given to him. Justice, God bless him, looked like he’d be able to handle about anything Malachi threw his way…and follow it up with a ‘thank you, sir’.
“In your mind, Justice, what do you think is going to happen between us? I look at your face, into your pretty blue eyes, and you have all sorts of ideas dancing around in there. Tell me some of them. What do you see happening?” He needed to hear the boy say it with his own lips. For the first time in his life, Malachi wasn’t certain he trusted his own judgment regarding a potential submissive. Unsure of whether it was the fact that he’d met and fallen in love with his un-submissive Megan or maybe he was terrified that he just missed the lifestyle so damned badly that he was creating something that wasn’t really there, Malachi had to hear it straight from those perpetually swollen lips belonging to the boy.
Justice felt his teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he pondered Malachi’s question. Shit; could he even say it out loud? What if the man laughed at him? What if this was some big ‘pay-back’ for sneaking off? What if it wasn’t? “Well, I only know about the shit I’ve read on the internet, so I’m afraid you might not like my answer. I don’t want to say something wrong. I don’t want to say something that might make you decide not to want me…that way.”
Strange choice of words, Malachi thought as his eyes stayed focused on how the kid kept worrying that damned bottom lip. Because he knew it wasn’t purposely used to entice him, it made it one of the sexiest damn things Malachi had ever seen in his life. It was no wonder why the kid’s lips were always red and swollen like he’d just been thoroughly kissed or fucked in the mouth.
“Ah, the internet; the breeding ground for fools,” he said with a smirk but continued, “but it does manage to offer some educational benefit on occasion. Tell me, pup, what have you seen that made you think you might be interested in giving the whole BDSM lifestyle more than a passing glance?”
Justice felt his face burn red but his determination didn’t waiver. Focus on what you want. His fingers itched to touch the tattoo, but he wouldn’t allow it. “I…I liked the pictures of people being tied up; all sorts of ropes and locks.” His voice dropped even lower, as did his eyes, when he added, “In all sorts of positions.”
Not much in the world prettier than a pretty blushing for you, Malachi thought to himself. Justice had blushing down to an art. “So you think you would like being tied up? Is that why you got so calm in the vehicle on the way home last night? When I opened the back hatch, you looked very…peaceful. Was that because of the restraints?”
“I think so.”
A deep breath and another nibble of the bottom lip, followed by a swipe of a pink tongue across both lips, finished the boy’s thoughts.
“Excellent.” Malachi paused, wondering if he boy would have the courage to raise those pretty eyes and face him. No, it appeared he was still incredibly interested in the floor. “I like restraints. I like them very much, as a matter of fact.”
“Ummmm.” Well, fuck, that was an intelligent response.
“Do you want to try it, Justice? Do you want me to introduce you into my world; teach you some things? Let you try it and see if it is what you think it might be? See if your body will enjoy it as much as we both think it will?”
Blue eyes jumped up to meet his. Finally.
“Yes,” he answered softly. Then, more firmly, he said, “Yes, I do.”
About the authors:
TS McKinney lives in East Tennessee with her high school sweetheart/husband and all the countless dogs she picks up from deserted country roads. Her professional career has been in business but her heart has always belonged to the fantasy world found in books. Creating wicked worlds where one can meet the perfect hero – and then do anything to him that you want – has been a hobby that has brought her plenty of hours of fun and naughty entertainment.
When not working, reading, or writing, she loves to spend time with her family and forcing them (because they don’t really have another choice) to allow her to redecorate their houses…and listen to her naughty…sometimes sadistic stories.
BJ Grinder lives in Smalltown, Tennessee where the residents know everything and everyone (not always a good thing). She enjoys writing, zombies, and garage sales. She has an unhealthy relationship with her Kindle, which demands most of her time – at least what her 4 children don’t take up!
Tour Dates & Stops: August 13 – 19, 2015
Mikky's World of Books
Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
MM Good Book Reviews
Book Reviews and More by Kathy
My Fiction Nook
Inked Rainbow Reads
Up All Night, Read All Day
All I Want and More Books
Emotion in Motion
Prism Book Alliance
Happily Ever Chapter
Jessie G. Books
Rainbow Gold Reviews
Must Love Dogs, my latest novella from Dreamspinner Press, focuses on the emerging love story of Ben and Jay.
Since a mugging a year ago, Ben’s lived with blindness. Despite an art career on hold and a deadbeat boyfriend who left him because of his disability, he's finally getting his life back on track. Ben is gaining a new sense of independence thanks to his guide dog, Colt.
But Ben’s carefully balanced life is thrown into chaos when veterinarian Dr. Jay Connor hits Colt with his car. While Colt is on the mend and recovering nicely, Ben finds that Jay is not only fond of Colt, but also quite interested in Ben.
However, one overheard conversation might put a stop to their romance before it can grow into something more. Maybe Ben’s destined to go it alone in the dark. Or can Jay help him see there’s still a chance for happily ever after?
Ben is the main character, and he's been through a lot in his life thus far. He thought he had everything in line – a successful career as a painter, a wonderful home, and a loving partner. In one instant, though, all of that was taken away from him. A mugging gone bad took away his sight, which took away his ability to paint, and the strain of recovery took away his partner. Ben was at rock bottom and has been slowly making his way back up over the past year. He had Colt, he was surviving, and he wasn't looking for anything else. That is, until fate had a way of throwing him yet another curveball.
Coming up with Dr. Jay, I knew that I wanted him to be different than Ben. He hasn't gone through the tragedy that Ben has, but instead has been focused on his veterinary practice and his love of animals. Like Ben, he wasn't really focusing on his love life, but he was at least open to the possibility. And good thing he was, since Ben literally fell into his path, and Jay took that as a sign. Even when Ben was resistant to what may transpire between them, Jay was persistent and that persistence paid off for them all.
And finally there's the lovely Colt. He's the reason Ben and Jay got together, and he's the grounding point between them. Ben loves Colt, Dr. Jay does as well, and he is the third point in their triangle. He's a very good guide dog, committed to his job, but he's also a puppy at heart and very loving to those around him. For those wondering, Colt is a mix of Labrador and Golden Retriever breeds, which are the most common types used as guide dogs in the United States. Colt was a good student and a good match for Ben. Together, they're navigating the world around them and learning new experiences along the way.
Meet K. Lynn
K. Lynn has been an avid reader and writer since childhood. While in college, K. Lynn increased her involvement in LGBT issues and writing within the LGBT fiction genre. She has become a long-time fan of the authors that seek to explore the commonality that exists within all sexualities and genders. Most of K. Lynn's work features LGBT characters, many of whom are in established relationships and show how love perseveres through every trial and tribulation that life holds. She also has a particular interest in seeing transgender characters gain a larger foothold within the LGBT fiction genre, hoping that the market for these works expand in the future. Contact K. Lynn at email@example.com or follow her on Twitter @WriterKLynn
Will Tanner realize he's wrong and claim his mate before Finley's devotion is gone? Devotion Published by Dreamspinner Press Release date: September 11, 2015 220 pages Cover artist: Reese Dante Preorder: http://hyperurl.co/xje1c8 Blurb: Finley Cooper is tired of waiting for his destined mate to be ready to claim him. In deference to human laws, he’s already agreed to wait until he’s eighteen. But now his birthday has come and gone—and his mate has a new set of excuses. Finley doesn’t understand it any more than his wolf does, and he’s beginning to wonder if fate made a mistake. Tanner Pearce wants nothing more than to claim his mate, but he worries that Finley is too young. Tanner will never forget what happened when his best friend mated at Finley’s age, only to have that mate end up feeling trapped and breaking their bond. While rare, it can happen, and the fallout Tanner witnessed as his best friend tried to deal with the break has haunted him for years. When Finley finally has enough, he threatens to find someone who will claim him if Tanner doesn’t, and Tanner realizes he needs to come to terms with his fears or risk losing his mate forever. Excerpt: Finley fumed silently in the passenger seat the whole way back to his parents’ house. He was tired of waiting. Two years of being put off by his mate, the one the fates had chosen for him. Two years of intense sexual frustration—jacking off provided very little relief—knowing who he wanted, who he should have, but not being able to have them. He wasn’t about to go fuck someone else, not when he had a mate—even if he didn’t have the man—but he was tired of not having him, of not having anything. Two years of watching the one person who wasn’t supposed to be able to walk away from him… walk away from him. Time and time again. He held on to his anger as long as he could. He wasn’t going to give in to the other stuff until he was in his room, away from his parents and sisters, and Tanner had left again and was far enough away that it wouldn’t transmit over their bond. He’d always bemoaned the distance limitation of it, loving that feeling of connection, however light. But now he was glad for it because he couldn’t let Tanner know how all this was feeling. He couldn’t. He could not let Tanner see how much it hurt to be rejected over and over and over again. He was beginning to wonder if Tanner really wanted him. He didn’t understand why Tanner couldn’t see that he could get all those experiences and still be mated. That he didn’t want those without Tanner. That he wanted to be with Tanner when he succeeded in school, wanted to see Tanner’s pride in him for doing well. He knew, eventually, Tanner was going to be alpha, and, as the alpha’s mate, there’d be responsibility to go with that. But Tanner’s father wasn’t anywhere near ready to step down. It would be quite a few years before that was even an issue. As long-lived as they were, Tanner’s father, at forty-two, was still considered young as far as shifters go. They had time for that. So he couldn’t figure out why. Tanner’s excuses were just that: excuses. The only thing Finley could get from them was that Tanner didn’t really want him and hadn’t figured out how to tell him yet. Oh, he knew Tanner wanted him physically. The few times he’d managed to get Tanner to kiss and make out, he’d certainly felt Tanner’s response. Like in the club, Tanner was usually as hard as he was. But he couldn’t get so much as a mutual hand job out of the man, much less anything more. He didn’t understand it. He did get why they waited until he was eighteen before doing anything, even if he didn’t like it. There was no way they could end up in a human jail. Their wolves couldn’t take that kind of captivity, and when they spontaneously shifted from the stress… well, that just wasn’t going to work. So he’d waited, because he knew there was always the chance someone from the human high school he attended could call and even his parents couldn’t get them out of it. But the waiting was killing him. Especially since he had a lot more invested than his dick. He’d long since fallen in love with his mate, long since added his heart to the mix. And knowing that love wasn’t returned was eating at him. He’d started his little trips to the clubs right after he’d turned eighteen and Tanner had started giving his new excuses—college, experiences, the whole pile of crap. So Finley had decided he needed to try to push things, provoke something more out of Tanner. He wanted to see if he could get Tanner to do something. But so far all he’d gotten was the occasional dance, like tonight, and more often, annoyed looks, a lot of sighs, and being dropped back off at his parents’ house while Tanner went home. Alone. And Finley went to bed to jack off. Again. He couldn’t even seem to get anything possessive out of Tanner. Tonight, his grabbing the blond guy’s hand had been the first time anything like that had happened. Most of the time, Tanner just grabbed him and dragged him out of the club. Finley was tired of waiting. He was tired of dancing around this shit. He was tired of being put off. He was eighteen, hadn’t so much as touched another guy’s dick, much less had sex, and he was sick of it. Most of their kind were mated at this time. He knew some were waiting longer, usually because they went to college and the like. And Finley might have happily gone off to college and taken another four years—if he hadn’t met his destined mate and this hadn’t felt so urgent. But it did and he was going crazy from it. It was time to force the issue. If Tanner didn’t want him, it was time to find someone who did. He wanted his destined mate. He wanted the man he was in love with. But he could, and would, sever the bond that they’d started and form one with someone new. Someone who wanted him. Maybe it was time for a change of scenery. No one else in their pack was gay, much less interested him. In fact, the only other two teenagers his age had both been jocks in school and very much not someone he hung out with. His grandparents had been hinting that they’d love for him to visit, and his grandmother—who didn’t seem to understand the age thing either—had been going on and on about this new “pup” in their pack who was gay. When Tanner pulled up in front of Finley’s house, he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. He climbed out, slammed the door, and went in the house without looking back. He called to his mother to let her know he was home, then took the steps two at a time. Once he was in his bedroom, he stripped to his boxers, curled up on his bed, stared at the ceiling. He listened for Tanner’s car to pull out of the driveway; then he’d give in, let the memory of their meeting fill him as it seemed to do so much these days. And once Tanner was far enough away, he could let the rest of his emotions out.
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* * *About the author: Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica. A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind. As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art. Find Grace here: Website ◊ Facebook ◊ Twitter ◊ Youtube ◊ Goodreads
“You’re not going to die, Aaron.”
“You don’t know that. This sickness, ailment, curse…whatever the fuck it is. It’s gettin’ worse. And it’s changin’. Morphin’ into somethin’ scary. My nightmares lately have been horrible.”
“What kind of nightmares?” Of course, Jaret knew. They were the same kind all of them had during the change. Fire and ice as the body went through horrendous chills and soaring high fevers. They would only stop once the change was complete. For after that, there was no real sleep anymore.
“Bein’ caught on high mountains, pelted with snow. Of the forests here bright with orange fire. Of you—” His voice broke. “Callin’ out my name only I’m no longer here to respond.”
“Babe,” Jaret said in a soft voice, not understanding why but knowing he was closer to this drakyl than he had ever been to anyone. “We’re going to get you cured. Then you can come out with me at night. We’ll keep the place predator free while your cousins slave in the sun. How does that sound?”
A sad attempt at a laugh left the other man’s throat. “Promise me you won’t leave until I’m gone?”
Fury swept along Jaret’s veins. Anger at the sun, the fact the man next to him was terrified, and at Davis for not explaining to the poor man earlier what he was. But mostly, he was furious at himself for not telling Aaron the truth. Leaning in, he placed his nose against Aaron’s. “I promise you,” he said in a deep growl, “that you are not going to die, Aaron Drakyl. I won’t let it happen.”
About the author:
Thianna loves to write strong stories with even stronger heroes. While all of her books have an erotic overtone, it is the story that is the most important to her. “The story should be able to stand on its own. The erotic elements are an add-on.”
She enjoys writing about couples with kink, paranormal couples, and straight out strangeness. But more on that later… You can find her at mm.thiannad.com.
She also writes m/f under the name Thianna D.
Tour Dates & Stops: August 10, 2015
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Chaos reigns in The Sleepless City, and it’s really beginning to piss Detective Jonas Forge off. He’s got inner demons to battle and a life to build with his new soul mate, Blair Turner. Nothing is going right, and he already feels the universe is conspiring against him when a turn of events he never saw coming flips his world upside down.
Hallucinations grip the town and everyone in it, threatening to tear their precariously built family apart, and the only way forward is to bare all to each other. This means Declan and Blair need to learn to accept one another. Lucas Coate has to move forward without ties to his werewolf pack and live a monogamous life with Declan.
But while Forge and Declan confront horrors from their shared past, Simon learns a terrible truth about vampires—one he couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares.
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“What happened?” Blair asked. He turned his head toward the back door. A second later Moose was running to the back of the house.
Jonas strode in, jerked his jacket off, and tossed it down beside Ben’s helmet, muttering as he went. He stopped and faced them. “Those fools have decided I must be head detective.”
Lucas came to a stop behind Jonas, grinning.
“Wait, you’ve been pissed off all day because you got a promotion?” Blair asked.
Ben lunged forward and threw his arms around Jonas’s neck. “Sweet as! We have to celebrate. It’s about time they recognized you like this. I think it’s crappy you haven’t been promoted until now.”
Jonas pulled in a breath and stepped back from Ben. “I thank you, but it’s a fucking disaster.”
“Another of the Council’s tricks,” Declan added.
“They can’t do this, can they?” Simon said and sat down abruptly on the couch. “That’s against the Council rules.”
“What’s wrong with all of you?” Ben turned in a circle, glaring at each of them in turn.
“I can’t be the head detective.” Jonas took a DVD from the shelf under the television and put it in the player. He grabbed the remote control, aimed, and pointed. “This”—he waved at the scene appearing on the TV—”is why I can’t have this job.”
An image of Stewie in relation to some incident that, by the looks of it, had happened a few years ago appeared on the screen. Underneath were the words “Flint, Ohio, Head Detective Stewart Belle,” and Stewie was speaking to a reporter.
“Oh crap,” Blair said. He and Ben stood side by side.
“Yes. Oh crap covers it nicely. The head detective must be a human, has always been a human. You know, someone who can be seen by a camera and is available during the full moon,” Jonas said. “Before Stewie there was some dick by the name of Felton, and before that we had the oh-so-delightful Smyth.”
Ben nudged Blair and waved one hand between Declan and Jonas. “Have you noticed that between the thief and the cop, the cop is the one with the problems with authority?
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