 Two romances. Two stories. Two timelines. Two mysteries solved. My teaser this week is from A Barlow Lens. Get the ebook for $2.99 and the paperback for $6.99!  When Kevin moved around to the driver’s side, Wyatt lunged across the seat, shoved Val’s door open, and pushed him out. Then he twisted around and kicked his door open, hoping it was timed right and that he moved fast and hard enough. The harsh grunt and thud from Kevin told him his move was right on the mark. Wyatt tumbled out of the car, landing on all fours. He would only have a few seconds before Kevin recovered. He heard Val scrambling to his feet, boots crunching on the gravel. “What the hell are you doing!” Wyatt wasn’t exactly sure if Val was yelling at him or Kevin. He didn’t take the time to figure it out either. He got his feet underneath him and charged. Kevin had dropped the tire iron, but it wasn’t so far out of reach that a short roll to the side and he’d have it again. If he got ahold of that damn thing again, Wyatt was in real trouble. Kevin twisted onto his stomach and kicked his legs at the same time, extending one arm, fingers brushing the tire iron but not grasping it. Wyatt darted in and landed two fast, quick punches to the back of Kevin’s head and neck. He didn’t care if the blows rendered Kevin unconscious or killed him. Kevin shouted and threw himself onto his back, abandoning the tire iron. He reached under his jacket. Wyatt tried to kick his hand and cause Kevin to drop the weapon he now had. The move didn’t work. “Shit,” Wyatt hissed as a flash of light from Kevin’s hands preceded a lightning bolt rampaging through him, and he dropped like a stone to the ground.  “I figured you could start working out on Sig. You know, to get back into things.” Val stopped and glanced around the room again, looking for some sign even though Wyatt wasn’t in this room, possibly he was in the building. “Has your dad been in to see you?” He rubbed the back of his head and didn’t meet Janelle’s gaze.
“He’s been in every day, but today he said he had some work to do.” Janelle shrugged. “You just missed him by about a half hour.” She took a sip from a glass of water on a table beside her bed, lifting her eyebrows and watching Val as she drank. “So whatcha been up to?” Val shrugged. “Work. Nothing exciting. Did you hear any more from the cops?” “No. Have you gotten out of the house at all, other than to go to work and come here?” “I went and watched the horses,” Val said and grinned. “You need to go out and have some fun,” Janelle said. Val leaned back in his chair and stretched. “You’re right.” “But? And I’m always right.” Val laughed, but didn’t have a ready answer for her. He stayed until visiting hours were over then headed for home, looking forward to the time he’d have his friend back. He was doubly looking forward to watching her race again. Val hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy watching the horses train, then watching them in actual races, and he immensely missed seeing his friend ride in races. Somehow horse races weren’t the same without Janelle being one of the jockeys. It was after dark when he arrived home and was surprised, then delighted to find Wyatt’s car sitting in his drive. Wyatt sat inside, with the window open and his arm bent and resting on the door frame. He waved casually and got out of the car as Val parked his truck. “I hope you don’t mind me just showing up?” Wyatt sounded hesitant, almost shy. “No, not at all,” Val said. Wyatt wore khakis and a polo shirt with the first few buttons opened. He had a sports jacket with him, but it was flung over one shoulder. Val’s heart stuttered a few beats as he watched the muscles of Wyatt’s arms slide under his skin. Normally he wore a sports jacket or longer sleeves, and Val hadn’t noticed how well built Wyatt’s arms and shoulders were. Val decided right then and there, he definitely had a thing for older men. “I was kind of hoping you hadn’t had dinner yet and would like to join me.” As Val got closer, he picked up a hint of cologne and saw a soft sheen on Wyatt’s salt-and-pepper hair, still damp from a recent shower. Warmth curled around Val’s belly and nestled between his legs and in his balls. “Um…I mean, I’d like to, but…you don’t….” Val’s throat and mouth were too dry for him to talk properly. Wyatt stepped closer, reached out with his free hand, and ran his palm lightly down Val’s arm to his hand, then took it and applied light pressure before he let go. “Val. I’m asking if you’d like to have dinner with me. For no other reason than I’d love to spend a few hours with you. And I’m hungry.”  This week my snippet is from A Barlow Lens, book 2 of the Circles series. A Barlow Lens is two, intertwining stories in one book. There is a story told in the present and a second story set in 1927. My snippet is from one of the 1927 chapters.  The first time was always fast, hard, and desperate. Particularly after waiting so many days. Later would come the slow passion when they took a back room inside the Canary. After night descended, Tom pointed out constellations and showed Philip his favorite views through his telescope. “Emma’s ma said she expects me for dinner again next week,” Philip said. He wouldn’t quite meet Tom’s gaze. “I’ll probably hafta marry her eventually.” Tom nodded. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing he, or Philip, could do about it. “I know. We’ll make do. Just like now.” “I wish—Tom, I don’t—you didn’t grow up in that neighborhood. Certain people, they expect….” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” “I grew up in a neighborhood. Same thing all over. Nothing we can do about it. Like I said, we’ll make do.” Read more fabulous snippets in The Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! A Barlow Lens is available from Amazon in eBook and paperback and is available in Kindle Unlimited.  My teaser this Tuesday comes from Jewel Cave, part of the Circles romantic mystery/suspense/thriller series. Clint took a few steps closer to the french doors. Phoenix stood in the middle of the living room, ruff and tail puffed out. He didn’t make a sound, but his attention was riveted to the kitchen and side door. “Griff?” Where is my phone? He’d had it in the kitchen while he made coffee. The goddamn phone’s still on the counter. All at once jumbled thoughts began charging through Clint’s head. Dogs don’t act like that with someone they know. That was followed by things Griff had told him over the years: “Don’t let on to an intruder there are guns in the house.” “Lamps, keys, even a pen is a good weapon.” “Cooperate.” “If you have the chance, take it and run.” “Look them in the eye.” “Don’t let anyone get you into a vehicle if you can help it.” “Make noise.” “Hey, cut this shit out right now!” Clint shouted as loud as he could. It was nice outside, the windows were open. Someone would hear him. Fern ducked behind his legs. Phoenix didn’t move. Clint looked around for something—anything—to use as a weapon. A creak came from the far side of the house. He could only see part of the kitchen and not through to the side door. Had the noise come from the landing, the basement steps, or the steps to the kitchen? Clint held his breath. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the signed baseball bat resting on a stand on top of his office shelves. It had been a housewarming gift from his grandmother when he and Griff had moved in. He could do a lot of damage with a baseball bat. Unfortunately, to get to the bat, he’d have to go back into his office and would lose the advantage of being able to see most of the kitchen and all of the living room. He had two choices: stand there and watch whoever was in the house come at him, or arm himself with a weapon he could use. Clint opted for arming himself. Moving as quietly and as quickly as possible, he stepped back into his office, mentally cursing when he hit a squeaky floorboard. He was almost close enough to reach up and grab his prize when he felt a presence behind him.  My taboo offering is from Home Coming, book one of Pain and Pleasure. Taren lightly smacked Ian’s ass with his hand. “You’ll probably want to hang on.” Ian barely had time to grab at the bars attached to the upper part of the cross before Taren removed the ice pack, codpiece, and plug. All were dropped onto the floor a few feet away. An enema blub, slick from lube, was pushed steadily into his ass. Ian heard the soft lob-lob as Taren squeezed the attached pump and filled the bulb, keeping it snug in Ian's ass. Ian bit his lip, fighting the urge to rock onto his toes. Ian knew the bottle of liquid Taren would attach held nearly half a liter. Taren used both hands on the bottle and squirted vinegar water into Ian with enough force Ian felt every bit of it as the stream blasted and cleansed his insides. Ian liked it the best that way. He allowed himself the luxury of a moan when the sharp, quick sting of pulsating liquid sluiced through him. With one of Taren’s big hands on his shoulder, Ian waddled to the bathroom to complete his clean out. Once Ian was prepared, he was guided back to the cross. He stepped up, gripped the bars again and rested his chest against the padded center piece. Taren took lube and a butt plug with three bulbs from the low equipment table against the wall. New batteries were inserted and Taren took up his position behind Ian, out of sight once again. As Taren inserted the plug, he turned it slowly, one way then another. Each of the bulbs was bigger than the one before it and the topmost bulb was elongated to a blunt, tapered end. The entire thing was curved in just the right way so his prostate would be constantly prodded. Once in place, Ian heard a faint click when Taren had turned on the device. Ian’s spine straightened without any commands from his brain and a shudder rippled through him when the low-level vibrations began. He’d be hard as a rock soon. Taren’s hands on his hips turned Ian so he was leaning back against the cross. Moving quickly, a thin, ribbed steel bar was covered with surgical lubricant and inserted into Ian’s slit. It attached to a narrow ring that fit snugly around Ian’s shaft just under his glans and was long enough to jab at his prostate. |
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