11/22/2014

En Francais, s'il vouz plait? Jacob hits #1! #mmromance #frenchedition

Many, many thanks to all of my wonderful readers out there!

You all are the absolute best! 

The French translation of Loving Jacob, 


has ranked highly on the Amazon Best Seller Charts! 


And...even more exciting? 


So a great big THANK YOU 
to all the French language readers out there! 
More translations are coming! 

11/21/2014

Book Blast New Release: Cranberry Pi A Contemporary M/M Romance #newrelease #mmromance #pridepromotions #giveaway


Cranberry Pi 
A Contemporary M/M Romance 
By Lee Brazil 
Publisher: Lime Time Press 
Cover Artist:  Laura Harner

Blurb:
As if starting a new job, picking up the reins of a disorganized former colleague, and moving back in with his parents while he saves for a down payment on a house of his own isn't enough, Cecil Trace has just discovered that part of the Art Director's job at the exclusive Linwood Academy is putting on a series of holiday pageants…with the first one celebrating Thanksgiving just three short weeks away.
He's got enough on his hands getting reluctant students ready to wow their parents and the community with their brilliance, and preparing a holiday showing of his own artwork at a local gallery, he doesn't need recalcitrant but brilliant math instructor Reese Cavelli arguing about every little detail.
While Reese understands the new Art Director's urgency, he can't allow Cecil to undermine his authority with the students. Reese can't help being an ass to the new art director, and he knows in part his behavior is due to his own insecurities, but it's also got a lot to do with the fact that the vibrant young artist is so damned sexy in his jeans and bohemian shirts. Every time he comes into contact with Cecil Trace, he finds himself

Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

Excerpt:
The store doors whooshed open and a wave of cold air enticed him inside. The silver gum wrapper nagged at the back of his mind, but he was determined. No more picking up after other people. Not after coming in early and staying late and spending all his planning periods cleaning up Torey Crowe's disaster of a classroom over the last week.
Pulling out his smartphone, he called up a list of items he needed and swung a cart out of the corral. He knew the store like the back of his hand, but it seemed unusually crowded this Sunday. Ducking into an aisle to detour around a woman who appeared to have at least six two-year-olds in her charge, he nearly collided with another cart. Cursing, he veered to the left quickly. Too quickly as he wound up hitting a hanging display of sandwich containers in gaudy plastic colors.
"Fuck!" Instantly, he backed up a little and bent to retrieve the objects that had fallen from the display. Something rammed into his backside and sent him sprawling forward onto the dirty linoleum. "Fuck!" he snarled, catching himself with his hands and pushing upright.

"Oh, excuse me."
The pleasant baritone irritated him even more, because it seemed familiar. Spinning about, he found himself face-to-face with the devil himself. Or temptation. The man who'd hit him with the shopping cart was stooping to pick up the sandwich containers, and Reese didn't have a very clear view of him, but what he saw was enough to make his cheeks burn even brighter and his heart falter just a bit before racing.
Golden hair, in a long, straight sheet fell forward over his face, long…too long for a man, really. Reese tried to sneer, but his fingers twitched again, and he wanted to reach out and push that hair back behind the man's ear to see what sort of face it hid. He had an impression of slenderness, caught a glimpse of faded denim, and a shirt that looked a hell of a lot like his sister's baby doll pajamas before his cock swelled. Embarrassed, he jerked his own cart and trotted down the aisle. "Watch where you're going!" he choked out, racing for the produce department.

Purchase Link: All Romance AMAZON

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11/20/2014

November Freebie: Ancient Rome Serial Centurion is #FREE at ARE this month only! #mmromance #serialfiction #

Good morning all! Just a reminder that Centurion, book one of my Ancient Rome serial m/m piece, is #FREE ONLY until the end of November, ONLY at All Romance eBooks. This is an ongoing serial, and the second part is already available. The next chapter is due out early in 2015.


CENTURION

"Can I be yours?"
Centurion Gaius Priscus has had his fill of war and death but knows no other life. When he meets the captive Salicar's gaze after battle, months of stringent self-denial catch up to him in a blazing rush of need.
Salicar is a healer, an educated man unused to battle but with his own experience of death. He should prefer death to captivity, but cannot find the courage to make it happen.

Will the hardened warrior, tired of death and destruction, deny his captive's plea?


Excerpt:
Paulius, a fairly new member of his century, dragged a man into the green, and threw him at Gaius’s feet.

"Sir, I found him in the far house, cowering in fear." Jerking his head toward a small cottage that the flames had just begun to lick, the soldier kicked at the man on the ground, who flinched.

A frightened cry was cut off abruptly by a second brutal kick.

Gaius looked down at the man on the ground, curled at his feet. He was thin, and his skin seemed untouched by age. One more soul to send to the land of the shades from the look of him. He certainly didn't have the look of a man accustomed to laboring from dawn till dusk. "Stand," he commanded, gesturing roughly for the soldier to raise the man to his feet.

Paulius grabbed the man roughly by the arm, jerking him upright. The man shook off the soldier’s grip and stood straight, thin shoulders set in challenge. He tilted his head and glared at Gaius from deep blue eyes, wide with fear and sparkling with defiance.

Gaius’s breath caught in his throat and he covered his reaction with a cough. A tangle of fine silky black hair hung to the man’s shoulders, his face was delicate and pale, his features reminiscent of the Greek aristocracy. Plump rosy lips set in a scowl. Months on the march without easing his needs caught up with Gaius in that moment as he stared into that face, his gaze traveling over a body that was lean and supple. Narrowing his gaze, he searched the figure before him for some sign of value, some excuse to keep him alive. The Greek was clothed simply in woven fabrics unadorned by gold or jewels. His elegant feet were dusty and bare. The rest of his person was clean though a bit unkempt. He might have some education or training that could be useful.

Hardening his voice he demanded, "Do you have some skill other than muscle?" Because there was no way that he could pretend this fragile slip of a man was fit for working the field. He was comely enough, he supposed to make a pleasure slave, and possibly intelligent enough to make a clerk, if he had the fortitude to survive the trek to the market.

He couldn't discern the man’s mumbled response, but the voice that uttered it was soft, sensual and pleasing to the ear as the man’s features were to the eye. Pretending that the indecipherable response pleased him, Gaius nodded decisively. "Put him with the others'" he ordered. 

Get your copy #FREE At All Romance

Part Two: Slave

When a Roman century is sent to put down a rebellion three days march from Syracuse, the village is destroyed. The few survivors are destined for the slave market, Physician Salicar among them.

Salicar has caught the eye of the soldiers' leader, Centurion Gaius Prius. Gaius is captivated by the man's dark curls and bright eyes, the purity of his face. Lust flares between them, a powerful distraction from Salicar's plight.

When Gaius offers him a choice, life as his pleasure slave or to join his companions on the auction block, Salicar is torn. In just twenty-four hours, he's already been seduced into forgetting that the centurion is his enemy and lost himself in pleasures of the flesh.

Does he dare take his chances on the auction block? Can he live with the knowledge of his own cowardice and the guilt of betraying his people for the rest of his life if he does not?

Excerpt:

The centurion shook Salicar roughly awake. "It's time."

He peeled his gritty and swollen eyes open and stared into the gloom, a little dazed by the abrupt awakening. "What? Is someone ill?" He fumbled for his bag in the darkness at the same time he realized that he wouldn't find it, because he'd been dragged from his own home the day before without any chance to gather his medicines and tools. Unaccustomed aches and pains gave him pause, and he winced. His feet and calves bore the brunt of it, but other parts, more intimate and sensitive were not so subtle reminders of his captivity.

A flicker of an indulgent smile—was it tinged with pride?—crossed the centurion's face. "It's time. We march toward Syracuse today. Dress yourself." His noble head jerked, and for the first time, Salicar noted a stoic-faced warrior standing in the tent's entrance. "Claudius will return you to the prisoners."

Shame filled Salicar, and his stomach twisted in revolt. He scrambled among the furs and blankets they'd slept entwined in to throw covering over himself, bewildered by the urge to modesty. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to being seen in the nude, he'd bathed in the same stream as his neighbors, and frequented bathhouses during his travels. He was a doctor, by Asclepius! The human form was as familiar to him as…and he had no cause to be embarrassed by his own…he was a bit skinny, in truth, but his form wasn't…Emotion made his cheeks flame and Salicar ducked his head to hide. In his secret heart, he knew it wasn't his shape or face that made him ashamed to be seen this morning. It was the tender ache in his ass, the muscles that sent pleasurable twinges of pain and reminders of ecstasy to distract his thoughts. It was lust and regret and shame at still living when so many had died.

What made him feel so differently this time, so exposed and naked and…promiscuous? was the fact that it was clear despite his expressionless face that Claudius the warrior knew exactly what had transpired in this tent over the night. He knew that Gaius had sheathed his weapon repeatedly in Salicar's body, and if he'd been close enough to hear Sal's unrepentant cries, he knew that he'd enjoyed it immensely.

At Gaius's amused chuckle, his embarrassment turned to full-fledged and dangerous anger. "You are a cur, by Jupiter!" He cringed as the laughter stopped and Gaius's face turned to stone in front of him. The twisting in his belly coalesced into a tight, painful knot of fear. "My apologies. I'm sorry, so—"

"Silence." Gaius cut him off with a slashing hand. "We march in twenty minutes. Keep the pace."


Slave only 99 cents at All Romance


11/19/2014

New Release! Are You Ready for Pulp Friction? The saga of Dagfinnr Lorensson and Cannon Malloy is complete! #pulpfriction #mmromance #serial #love

New Release: In From the Cold (Pulp Friction 2014 Compilation)

All 6 books for one low price!


Are you all caught up and ready for the December Finale of Pulp Friction 2014?

This compilation includes:

Cold Snap
 Professor of Literature Finn Lorensson is unashamedly a romantic. In his own words, he's a white knight in search of a charming prince to save. In fact, he's doing a good deed by stepping into the breach for his long-time friends and landlords at Mountain Shadows when a voice on the phone sends him tumbling headfirst into love/lust/fascination.
Four months later, a self-absorbed Dr. Cannon Malloy shows up in the flesh and has the poor grace to not remember their conversation. That could be because he's running from his past and too busy looking over his shoulder to appreciate what's right in front of him.
A winter storm and circumstance conspire to bring them together, but it'll take more than a charming smile and a pure heart to bring this frog-prince in from the cold.

Cold Comfort 
Prince Charming wannabe Finn Lorensson is living his own fairy tale. Sure, his intended is more frog than princess, but what's love worth if you don't have to slay a few dragons on the way?
Cannon Malloy is adapting…to life in Flagstaff, the cold, teaching…and to Finn. He's about decided that letting himself be loved isn't such a bad thing after all.
When an opportunist from Finn's past threatens both love and career, can the frog save his prince?

Cold Feet
 A visit from the fairy godfather has instilled in Cannon Malloy a newfound sense of self-appreciation. Radiating confidence and allure, he's drawn once again to Finn Lorensson's cabin. A night of passion is one thing…a life time of love another. How far will a little glamor go in changing a man's attitude?
Cannon's change of heart couldn’t have come at a worse time for Finn. The professor is facing an identity crisis his own. Since compromising his principles, Finn's armor weighs heavy and looks a little tarnished, at least in his own eyes.
How can a knight in dented armor resist dreaming of happily ever after when his frog prince is more charming than ever?

Taking Chances*

When a phone call to check up on an old friend ends in an abrupt "What the f*ck", Chance DuMont and his young lover, Rory Gaines, drop everything and fly off to Arizona to the rescue.
They've been through too much in the past year, and when it comes to the men they consider family, Chance and Rory aren't taking chances.

Out in the Cold 
They say all good things must come to an end, and Cannon Malloy is dreading the end of summer, the end of this job, and saying good-bye to Finn. So the frog prince makes grand plans to turn the tables, romancing and seducing his Prince Charming into waiting for him.
But Finn seems a little cold…a little distant, and a lot more eager for his departure than Cannon expected. Could there be something Prince Finn needs that Cannon isn't giving him?
Finn Lorensson is torn…while he'd like nothing better than to crawl in bed with Cannon and never come out, he's got real world villains to deal with, and Cannon is a lot safer in Atlanta. So he steels his resolve, and pushes Cannon away, feeling the pain of a broken heart is the just reward for his perceived misdeeds.
Sometimes, even the kiss of a frog prince isn't enough to repair a rusty suit of armor.

Cold Day in Hell

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs…
The long hard journey is over. Cannon Malloy's done hopping around, chasing after golden balls and elusive dreams. He's faced his demons, made his peace with his past. It's time to stop hiding, get out that suit of armor, try it on for size, and ride off into the sunset with his Prince Charming.
So why is Finn Lorensson suddenly more ogre than prince?
The beast on Finn’s back turned out more pathetic than ferocious, but still he can't break free from the chains that duty and self-image impose. He may be forced into the shadows, but it'll be a cold day in hell before this knight errant turns his back on love.
Because when you find that one in a million frog, who's a cursed prince in disguise…
Well, some things are worth fighting for.

PICK UP YOURS TODAY 



11/18/2014

FREE READ : CHANCES ARE #mmromance #serial #erotic


 FREE READS!


Start your adventure today!

Pulp Friction 2013

The beginning of a reading saga unlike any other!

CHANCES ARE
An ARE Best Seller

Excerpt:
"I have to go. Gerry leaves now. Sorry to leave you hanging." I had to get behind the bar. We do a steady business with the cops and the neighborhood people, and even though it was ten o'clock, I had four more hours until closing.

"Call me." His voice was husky and I fancied I heard just the slightest clink of that metal stud clicking against his teeth.
He wasn't the first visitor to my office, not the first face I'd stared at, trying to forget the one that was burned into my retinas, but he was different. I might have to get his name. Shit. I don't think I even gave him my name.

"I'm Chance, this is my place. You want me; this is where you can find me." I won't call. Been there, done that. Got the emotionally stunted psyche to prove it. I shoved him out the door ahead of me and let it close on our little interlude with a sensation akin to gratitude.
The problem with that, of course, was that it wasn't my name. My name was actually Aaron Dumont.

I picked up the name Chance as a kid when my grandma kept telling me "Chances are you'll come to no good, just like your pa." She had said it so often, it just kind of stuck. I've been Chance ever since. When she passed away and left me the remains of her estate, I sold everything but a few special items then invested it all in a nest egg for a rainy day.

I figured that's what she'd intended it for anyway. She'd said as soon as I joined the police force back in the eighties. "Chances are you'll come to no good there. It's a dangerous job and you're an accident waiting to happen."

She was right too. That nest egg came in handy after the not-so-accidental shooting that ended my career. After my injuries healed and the physical therapy was done, I loafed around doing nothing for a bit, sinking into depression and dying slowly inside of sheer boredom. Then I found the bar, and Chances Are was born. I don't know if the name was a tribute to the woman who loved and understood me or a fuck you to the one who ruled my childhood with an iron fist. Since they're the same ruthless, gently bred Southern lady, I don't spend a lot of time dwelling on the motivation behind the name.

Every night found me here, polishing glasses, pouring drinks, and soaking up the world. I got to talk shop with local law enforcement without being responsible for the paperwork. The neighborhood itself was eclectic and I got plenty of customers in on any given night who were prone to chat and flirt and sometimes, like the rookie, even a little more.

He was still there, watching me when he thought I wasn't looking, taking the ribbing his buddies were dishing out with a flush and a faint smile. I was impressed. Rory Gaines had backbone. I liked that. It kind of made me want to test his limits, crush his spirit, just to see if he'd let me, but I knew that was the bitterness of lost love, and I'd never actually do it. I don't think.

As I polished the shot glasses, I was giving serious thought to actually going back to my office and digging that business card he'd given me out of the trash can. When the front door burst open and smashed into the wall with a sound so akin to gunfire that several of the off duty cops in the room dropped to one knee and reached for weapons they weren't supposed to be carrying in my establishment, I forgot about everything else.
Available inAdobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi)

Get your free copy today at

Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955