K.C. Wells & Parker Williams
Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C.Wells always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way.
K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, where the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings – writing about men in love was even hotter...
K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career.
The laptop still has no idea of what hit it... it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes.
Parker Williams began to write as a teen, but never showed his work to anyone. As he grew older, he drifted away from writing, but his love of the written word moved him to reading. A chance encounter with an author changed the course of his life as she encouraged him to never give up on a dream. With the help of some amazing friends, he rediscovered the joy of writing, thanks to a community of writers who have become his family.
Parker firmly believes in love, but is also of the opinion that anything worth having requires work and sacrifice (plus a little hurt and angst, too). The course of love is never a smooth one, and Happily Ever After always has a price tag.
I LOVED it when it was evening and all was quiet and peaceful. No traffic noise intruded into the house, and in the lounge, the only sound was the slow ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Give me a mechanical clock any day. Not that I had anything against more modern timepieces, but there was something soothing about the sound. The clock had been my grandmother’s, and I took loving care of it, making sure it was oiled and wound. Right then my evening was perfect: the tick of the clock, a glass of Cabernet on the table next to me, and a worn, hardcover Sherlock Holmes novel in my hands. I’d lost count of how many times I’d read The Hound of the Baskervilles, but re-reading a favorite book was a warm, comforting experience. The wine created a warm glow inside me. I took another sip.
And then my phone rang.
The temptation to ignore its clamoring call was huge. I was happy, comfortable, and anyone ringing me at home during the evening had to want something. All my friends knew my routines, especially since Oliver....
I closed my eyes. I could almost hear that edge of amusement in his voice. “You going to answer that, Sir?” And yes, I could see the gleam in his eye as he awaited my reaction, tense in nervous anticipation. Brat loved pushing my buttons. With a sigh, I picked up the call.
“Damian? It’s Leo. We need your help.”
I placed the wine on the table. “What can I do for you?” My interest was piqued immediately. It had been quite a while since the co-owner of my BDSM club had called me at home.
“Sorry to disturb you, but you were the first person I could think of. We have a boy. He’s nineteen, and he needs help.”
Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Romance the Night, My Fiction Nook, Inked Rainbow Reads, 3 Chicks After Dark, Cathy Brockman Romances, Dawn’s Reading Nook, Twinsie Talk, Emotion in Motion, Prism Book Alliance, MM Good Book Reviews, Love Bytes, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Sinfully Sexy, Havan Fellows, Multitasking Mommas, Cate Ashwood, Fallen Angel Reviews, Nephylim, Iyana Jenna, Smoocher’s Voice
This week I'm very excited to host not one but two friends and their newest releases on my blog. Today I welcome Shira "The Diva" Anthony and another installment in her wonderful Blue Notes series.
British lord Cameron Sherrington has hit rock bottom. The love of his life, opera sensation Aiden Lind, is marrying another man, and Cam knows it’s his own fault for pushing Aiden away. Then someone tries to set him up and take away his family business. Facing arrest by US authorities on charges of money laundering and with no money to return to London, Cam decides to run. But with no money and no place to stay, it’s not exactly the Hollywood thriller he’d imagined.
When Cam hears Galen Rusk play in a lonely subway station, he’s intrigued. But his assumptions about Galen are all wrong, and their unusual relationship isn’t exactly what Cam bargained for. Add to that the nightmares that dog him nightly, and Cam’s world is shaken to its core. Cam figures he had it coming to him, that it’s all penance due on a life lived without honesty. He just never figured he might not be able to survive it.
Note: Blue Notes Series novels are standalone stories, and can be read in any order.
CAM SKIPPED down one of the gravel paths past the privet hedges that led from the terrace to the grounds beyond. He whistled a song he’d learned in school a few days before. He felt proud that he’d learned to whistle when Jane Ravenel and Paul Vestry hadn’t been able to do more than blow air and spit when they’d tried. He’d said he’d teach them. He, Cameron Sherrington, could do something they couldn’t do. He’d be a good teacher and they’d like him for it, wouldn’t they?
He reached the edge of the forest a few minutes later. His father had promised to build him a tree house, like in Winnie the Pooh, but he’d died before they’d had a chance to plan it. He’d asked his mother, but she’d told him he was too old for tree houses. He’d picked out the perfect spot for it too—a huge oak that grew on the edge of one of the fields where the horses often grazed.
He whistled and ran faster until he reached the pond with the ancient boathouse. He tossed his shoes into the grass and dangled his feet in the water. He didn’t notice the dark cloud overhead until everything around him grew black.
Cam shot up in bed, panting. A dream. It was just a dream. He looked around the room and tried to remember where he was. Slowly, it came back to him. Sleeping in the subway. The FBI. The music. Galen.
He dry-scrubbed his face, then took a few more deep breaths. He hadn’t had a nightmare since he was a kid. He slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, relieved himself, then splashed a bit of cool water on his cheeks. The face that greeted him in the mirror looked tired. Older than usual, even. The dark circles under his eyes always looked ten times worse against his pale skin. The bruise on his cheek had blossomed purple. He touched it gingerly and winced. At least the muggers hadn’t broken anything.
He stood, just looking at himself, for nearly ten minutes. Days before, he’d been assessing himself in the mirror to make sure his hair was just right. Now he barely noticed the tousled mess. He didn’t recognize himself in the reflection. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see himself looking back. No deep thoughts accompanied this strange, surreal appraisal. Through the haze of sleep and with the slightly edgy memory of the dream still lingering, he saw every line, every imperfection magnified. The small scar on his right cheek from when he’d fallen from a horse jumping far beyond his abilities. The lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. The tiny birthmark by his nose.
The sensation of something pressing against his leg brought him back to himself. The dog, trying to get his attention. Cam looked down, shook his head, then walked back to bed. Once under the covers, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. But it was nearly light outside when he finally drifted off.
Purchase from Dreamspinner Press
In her last incarnation, Shira was a professional opera singer, performing roles in such operas as “Tosca,” “i Pagliacci,” and “La Traviata,” among others. She’s given up TV for evenings spent with her laptop, and she never goes anywhere without a pile of unread M/M romance on her Kindle.
Shira is married with two children and two insane dogs, and when she’s not writing she is usually in a courtroom trying to make the world safer for children. When she’s not working, she can be found aboard a 36’ catamaran at the Carolina coast with her favorite sexy captain at the wheel.
8/8 - Prism Book Alliance
8/11 - Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
8/12 - Smoocher’s Voice
8/13 - Fallen Angel Reviews
8/14 - The Hat Party
8/15 - Amanda C. Stone
8/18 - Tara Lain
8/19 - The Novel Approach
8/20 - LeAnn’s Book Reviews
8/21 - Kimber Vale
8/22 - Full Moon Dreaming
8/25 - Love Bytes
8/26 - Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves
8/27 - Hearts on Fire
8/28 - Wicked Wolves and Dreaming Dragons
8/29 - Velvet Panic
9/1 - Decadent Delights
9/2 - Rainbow Gold Reviews
9/3 - My Fiction Nook
9/4 - Emotion in Motion
9/5 - BONUS DATES: MM Good Book Reviews, Book Suburbia
Meet Laura Harner
Raised in California, Laura likes it hot, which explains why she ended up in Arizona via such diverse places as Japan, Maine, and Florida, and many more places in between. After retiring from the US Navy, she found a niche working for land management agencies, including the National Park Service and the Bureau of Land Management. Though she has held many jobs around the world, her favorite was working and living in Grand Canyon National Park. Working (and eating) in New Orleans was a close second. You will find many of her books are set against the rich backdrops provided by coastal Louisiana and northern Arizona.
When asked how she started writing, Laura tells of waking on Boxing Day a few years ago, with a woman named Elena MacFarland yammering in her dreams, demanding her story be told. Despite never attempting to write fiction before that morning, Laura ignored all of the holiday visitors and the Highland Destiny series was born. She doesn’t believe it was a coincidence that the great grandmother who died when Laura was just a baby was named Elena MacFarland. Destiny does play a hand.
Laura became a full-time writer in 2012, and now she spends her time writing, watching her Arizona Diamondbacks, and working on her very own version of the Willow Springs Ranch in northwestern Arizona. She is a multi-published author of erotic romance, mystery, and urban fantasy and her books can be found at all major online retailers.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, cowboy,” Jamie whispered. Even while his heart was busy trying to put on the brakes, his traitorous hands slid to Remy’s waist. He leaned up to steal another kiss. The slide of slick tongue, the wet heat, familiar taste all insistently telegraphed the same message. This is right.
Jamie arched toward Remy, tugging at his shirt, sliding hands along the hot flesh, pulling him closer. Returning the kiss, Remy made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl, then took a commanding control, forcing his head back, their tongues dancing in an addicting blend of white-hot urgency.
Just like the first time they’d kissed, the effect of Remington’s kiss was like no other. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was an assault on his senses that left his head spinning and his lungs desperate for oxygen. Even his toes tingled. Intense. Passionate. Perfect. They fit together in a way he’d never been able to duplicate with any other man. Yin and Yang. Black and Tan. Fish and Chips. Breaking their kiss, Jamie nearly snorted with laughter.
Immediately, Remy dropped his hands to his sides and took a giant step backward. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean to—” His eyes were heavy, the lush lips swollen from their kisses, the dress shirt untucked and rumpled. Jamie wanted to finish undressing him, to use his mouth to ravish that beautiful body.
Trying to focus, Jamie said, “No—it’s not that. I was thinking—”
“Always dangerous with you,” Remy interrupted.
Jamie laughed again. “Too true. I was thinking about how perfectly our kisses seem to fit together. The things you do to me are like no one else…then I lost the thread.” He repeated his thoughts.
“Like fish and chips? Seriously?” Now Remy was laughing, too. “How do I go from being your best kiss to being compared to a piece of cod?”
Jamie shook his head. “I don’t know. Nerves, maybe?”
Remy nodded. “I’ll go back to my room.”
“No,” Jamie practically shouted. Remy tilted his head and blinked. The man probably thought him mad. Maybe he was.
“Jamie, help me out here. What can’t you do? How can I help?” Remy took Jamie’s hand and started to lead him toward the couch. Jamie tugged him to the bedroom instead.
“I don’t want you to leave, Remy. Really, I don’t. Let’s go to bed.”
“Jamie, you don’t have to do this. In fact—shit, I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I’d rather we not do anything if you’re not sure.”
“That’s just the trouble, Remy. I’m sure I want this.” He used two fingers to point back and forth between them. “What I’m afraid of is what happens afterward. I’m not sure I can…survive watching you walk away again. And God, I’m so sorry. I know it’s way too soon for both of us—too soon after Miggy—too soon for this to be something you can commit to. That’s what scares me.”
Remy pulled Jamie so they both sat on the edge of the bed. Their hips touched, but Remy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the position he always assumed when he needed a bit of self-protection. “I get that. I’m scared, too, you know. It nearly killed me to watch you walk away in Phoenix. And you’re right, it’s too early to search out Elvis and put on wedding bands. But Jamie, I don’t think it’s too soon to say we can try.”
Jamie’s stomach twisted, and his heart thudded erratically. Remy turned his head, and gave him a half smile. “Miggy…his death was ugly, beyond senseless. It was a fucking bomb, set two years ago by that asshole Cortez. And we never knew. We all went about living our lives—never once considering we were running out of time. All of us, Jamie—not just Migs. But here’s the thing…I don’t regret the journey, even if I hate the ending. But I have to wonder, what other time bombs are waiting for us? What regrets would we have if one of us died tomorrow?”
The words released the binds around his heart. As if someone opened the starting gate, Jamie surged forward, knocking Remy back onto the bed with an oomph. Like the crazed man he was beginning to suspect he was, he fumbled until he managed to get Remy’s shirt and slacks open. He was making splendid progress until he was distracted by the warmth of the big hands that slipped under his shirt and the roll of Remy’s hips. Even through their remaining clothes, hard length pressed against hard length.
“Jamie,” Remy said his name like some sort of incantation, weaving a spell with his voice. Jamie cried out when he was flipped over, his back landing on the mattress with a thud, and he was pinned by the weight of Remy’s body. His mouth was plundered as Remy tasted and pulled back before tasting again. So much like their first time.
Breaking their kiss, Remy rose to his knees and tugged his shirt over his head, then stood and gave Jamie a long look. Jamie remembered the taste of those finely pebbled brown nubs, the scrape of the coarse brown chest hair, the heat of the golden skin. Still Remy waited, thumbs hooked inside his waistband, the zipper unfastened, more than a hint of cock showing, since he’d obviously gone commando. Jamie licked his lips and glanced up to meet Remy’s heavy look. Only then did Remy finally let his slacks drop to the floor. Jamie unfastened his own pants, but Remy pushed his hands aside and finished undressing him, adding his clothes to the growing pile. Then they were pressed naked together and Remy’s mouth found his once more.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
Jamie smiled. “Remy,” he mumbled against the warm lips that branded him as claimed. “Remy. Remy.”
“Fuck, Jamie. I love the way you say my name,” Remy whispered.
Cover Artist: Laura Harner Publisher: Hot Corner Press
Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Cate Ashwood, Love Bytes, Havan Fellows, SA McAuley, MM Good Book Reviews, EE Montgomery, Iyana Jenna, Emotion in Motion, Amanda C. Stone, My Fiction Nook, Lee Brazil, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Prism Book Alliance, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Fallen Angel Reviews, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Smoocher’s Voice, Jade Crystal, Dawn’s Reading Nook
Rafflecopter Code: a Rafflecopter giveaway Rafflecopter Prize: The Separate Ways series – All Four Books!
“Are you wanting factory original or an upgrade to a catback?”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Which’ll make it run better?”
“Well, it depends. The cats give a great sound, but the Borlas? They’re loud and I love the look from the rear. It’s a matter of money and taste and sound.” Kendall headed to the office, rambling on about all the different types and prices and options.
“I like a good-looking rear,” the guy told him when he’d done talking.
“Then you might consider the Borlas. It’s a little pricey, but fine. This is my boss, Pete. He’ll hook you up.”
“Oh, I’d rather you hook me up.”
Was that as suggestive as it sounded?
“I… Okay. Okay, I can help.” He’d done a few custom orders, but Pete would have to approve everything.
The man held out his hand. “Barton Willis, the Third.”
“Kendall. Pleased.” He held out his hand, then pulled it back. He was a grease monkey after all. “I’ve been working, man.”
“I imagine I can wash my hands.”
“Yeah, I tell myself that a lot, but the grime’s pretty deep.” He was not flirting. Not.
“Nothing wrong with a dirty boy.”
Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago".
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
Parker Williams, Decadent Delights, Amanda C. Stone, Havan Fellows, Full Moon Dreaming, SA McAuley, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Tara Lain, Prism Book Alliance, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Jade Crystal, Book Reviews and More by Kathy, Fallen Angel Reviews, Smoocher’s Voice, Redz World, The Hat Party, Emotion in Motion, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Love Bytes, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Sinfully Sexy, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Iyana Jenna, Kimi-Chan, Reviews and Ramblings, Michael Mandrake, It’s Raining Men, Boy Meets Boy Reviews, MM Good Book Reviews, Velvet Panic, My Fiction Nook, Cate Ashwood
Rafflecopter Code: a Rafflecopter giveaway Rafflecopter Prize: $20 Amber Quill Certificate
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
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
Connect with EE Montgomery
Give a big welcome today to Havan Fellows!
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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