He Woke With Blood on His Hands #mmromance #werewolf #erotic


Luke Leveraux hates seeing suspicion darken Jeremy St. James's eyes when he leaves for his monthly hunting trip, but some secrets just can't be shared.
            On the surface artist Luke Leveraux has it all: money, a fantastic historical home, talent. When his boyfriend Jeremy moves in, his life should have been perfect. But Luke's hunting expeditions are a cover for something much darker, and he doesn't dare expose his lover to this unpredictable side of his life.
            Art teacher Jeremy St. James has always known about his lover's hunting trips. He just expected that they would stop when he moved in with Luke. Or, at the very least, that he might be included in the monthly excursions.

Someone else knows Luke's secret, though. Someone determined to put an end to the situation.

"If you are looking for a romance with a unique spin on the everyday shifter story, Saint’s Curse: Luke is definitely the book for you! ... it has an interesting, freshness to the storyline and with the characters’ situation itself that kept me interested in the book from the very first page to the last word." Recommended. - Reviewed By: Gabbi at Top 2 Bottom Reviews

It was another of those mornings when Luke awoke, washing blood from his hands. He stared into the cracked sink basin and shuddered as trails of soapy bubbles and pink washed-out blood swirled down the drain. The blinding light from the single bare bulb above the small mirror hurt his eyes. He hated his face in that mirror more than the blood washing through the drain.
His muscles ached, his jaw clenched. His skin went clammy and a chill wave of cold washed over him. Luke's guts heaved and he lurched to the side, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. The churning in his belly intensified and he leaned over the toilet bowl, gagging and heaving as whatever the hell he'd eaten the night before came back up. Clutching tight to the bowl as wave after wave of nausea cramped his belly, he dropped to his knees in the tiny space. The cement floor abraded his bare knees, but he didn't care.

Shards of gritty bone and bits of sinew scratched his throat on the way up, and the coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils. He retched and gagged, flushing the toilet repeatedly, until acrid stomach bile was all that came up. Sagging, he rested his head on his crossed arms on the toilet. He craved nothing more than to sleep right then and there. Despite the weakness and lingering agony the transformation caused, he had to shower.

Luke dragged himself upright, leaning against the wall, and he stretched a shaking hand past the clear plastic shower curtain to turn the hot water on. Dried blood matted his hair, caked various parts of his body. The acid odor of vomit, mingled with the coppery scent of blood, made his stomach heave, but it was empty. He had to shower, and then clean up the bathroom and the rest of the cabin. He'd never sleep if the smell of blood stayed on him, in the air around him.

Joyfully Jay gives Saint's Curse 4.5 stars & says "...intensely hot lovemaking scenes, and the richly detailed inner emotions of the two men and their journey together. I highly recommend Saint’s Curse by Lee Brazil.  It is a beautiful story of love triumphing over the dark and well worth the read." Reviewed by Sammy at Joyfully Jay



In the mood for spooky, creepy, sexy Halloween fun? #mm #breathlesspress

Spooky M/M Erotic Treats!

Creepy Halloween Fun in this Anthology!


13 Creepy Stories by Best Selling Authors

I've got three super short spooky Halloween stories in this fabulous Breathless Press Anthology!

Death Day Anniversary
A newcomer to town follows urban legend to the cemetery- is he a willing sacrifice, or an unfortunate dupe?

Make me a Sandwich
When his roommate is away, distraction is just a horror movie away for Gregory...until the things that go bump in the night take over.

The Fog 
Starting afresh in a new home in the valley should have helped Jeff leave memories of his lost love behind. Instead his dreams are filled with a passion that is terrifying in the light of day.

Also includes these fabulous stories by my Story Orgy writing friends!
The Sum of His Parts by Hank Edwards
Scott Tallow awakens in a hospital, stitches holding him together. As a handsome doctor helps him heal, Scott comes to realize he's not quite himself.
Writing is a Socially Acceptable Form of Schizophrenia by Havan Fellows
Almost everyone has an interesting story to tell. I've got numerous—and they've declared war against me.

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi)

Get your copy today at


Books on Tour: Damian's Discipline (Collars & Cuffs #5) #mmromance #bdsm #pridepromotions

Book Name: Damian’s Discipline (Collars & Cuffs #5)
Author Name: K.C. Wells & Parker Williams
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: Paul Richmond

The man who pimped Jeff may be in prison, but Jeff is still living the nightmare, selling himself to men and relying on pills to manage. Then he meets Scott, a young American man who could easily have been where Jeff is now. Scott’s friends extend a helping hand to Jeff, and he grabs it.
Leo and Thomas bring Jeff to stay with Dom Damian Barnett until they can find him someplace more long-term. Still grieving from losing his sub to cancer two years before, Damian agrees to help. But when he glimpses the extent of the damage, Damian wants to do more than offer his guestroom. Jeff is not a submissive, but Damian can see he desperately needs structure in his life.  It’s up to Damian to find an answer.

He never expects that what he discovers will change both their lives.

Categories: M/M Romance, BDSM, Romance, Contemporary

General Excerpt:
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.”



I tried to read, but it wasn’t happening. I kept wondering about Jeff. Where was he? What was he doing? I put aside my laptop and walked over to the window. I gazed out at the cold February day, the streets still wet from last night’s rain, the wind stirring the branches of the trees.

It’s a big, bad world out there, and Jeff is back in it again. Movement caught my eye. I peered through the blinds toward the front door, and my heart gave a jolt.

Jeff was sitting on the front doorstep.

I rushed to the door and opened it. Jeff was staring at the ground, his shoulders hunched. He shivered now and then.

I stepped outside and sat down next to him, saying nothing. He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. I waited in silence. Whatever happened next had to come from him.

Jeff lifted his chin and stared ahead. “I don’t want to go.” He uttered the words softly, his voice cracking. I caught my breath as he turned to me, eyes wet with tears. “Please, Damian, let me stay.”

Tour Dates/Stops:
October 20: Love Bytes, Velvet Panic

Rafflecopter Prize: First four Collars & Cuffs books

Sales Links:

Author Bios:
K.C. Wells:
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 m̩nage 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 Рwriting 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:
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.

Author Contact:
K.C. Wells:
K.C. can be reached via email (k.c.wells@btinternet.com), on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/KCWellsWorld), on Twitter (@IslandTalesPres or through comments at the K.C.Wells website (www.kcwellsworld.com ) K.C. loves to hear from readers.

Parker Williams:


Free M/M Romance: Nothing to Forgive #mmromance #breathlesspress #free


Have a few minutes to fill?
Looking for something to read?
You can pick up my super short & sweet story, Nothing to Forgive for free!

Vic returns from a business trip and is shocked to find a hot young thing hanging on to his lover. Sure, he and Marc had a fight, but Vic figured they'd work things out. And how could Marc's new someone special be so young, when they fought about their age difference...?

 Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, Mobipocket (.prc), Mobipocket (.mobi), Rocket, Epub

Why not pick up a copy today at 



Story Orgy Presents: Heart of Clay Finale #mmromance #storyorgy

Good morning Story Orgy readers! Welcome back to Monday!

*sips coffee* Brad and Clay are having a slow time of it, aren't they? Wonder if they'll get anywhere this week? Let's find out...

Heart of Clay 

(c) June 2014 @Lee Brazil

Oct 6th - He hadn't seen anything like it.
A full, round moon glinted in the obsidian night sky when Clay finally gave up the pretense of sleeping and waiting patiently for Brad to cool off. Lying on his bed with just the whirring of an electronic fan for company served no purpose. Every time he succeeded in clearing his mind and calming himself enough to even consider sleep, the insidious voice of insecurity--an entity his co-workers and friends in the city would be surprised to hear he was acquainted with-- interrupted him with yet another “Yeah, but…”
Yeah, but what about your job? He kicked the sheet off and nudged it to the foot of the bed with his toes. Counted lines on the ceiling, and imaginary sheep.
Yeah, but what about the fact that you live in different places? The fan’s weak efforts at stirring the air sent a wave of warm air to taunt him. He sighed, and rolled to his side, shifted the pillow to find a cool spot for his cheek. The rasp of beard on linen sounded overly loud, startling him.
Yeah, but what if he doesn’t really love you? Outside, crickets chirped and small animals rustled the grass. A bird called in the distance, Whit. Tew Whit. Whit. Whit. Clay scrunched his pillow up and squeezed his eyes shut. Sleep wouldn’t come.
That one stung, quite a bit. And Clay realised that it was a big assumption, that he was putting a lot of faith into Bobby. Putting your faith in a ghost, which might just be a figment of your imagination, that was surely a ticket to disaster and heartache, right?
It didn’t help that he’d tried for over an hour to talk to Bobby. Without avail. The ghost hadn’t shown up, not in any of the places where Clay had spoken to him before, or in any of the dark quiet corners where he thought he might not be overheard, either. Apparently ghostly communication was a one way street. There was no way for him to call Bobby. He had to sit around and wait for Bobby to come to him.And he’d never really been a sitter. Clayton J. Merk was more of a doer.
If Brad thought he was an asshole, he wasn’t any more likely to believe in ghosts in the morning than he was at… quarter past midnight.
So he might as well do something. In a repeat of his actions on his first night home, Clay rolled out of bed in his boxers and dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt. Stepping into his sandals was the extent of his preparation. He wasn’t likely to encounter anyone but Brad- and the odds of Brad being down at the peach tree again were minimal, given that he was now convinced that Clay was a jerk.
“I don’t know how I’m going to convince him that I’m not a lunatic.” He closed the door of his room as quietly as possible.
Wary of the creaking floorboards, Clay cautiously crept toward the stairs. He didn’t want a repeat of the other day, waking Augie and disturbing his grandparents. As silently as possible he made his way down the stairs and out the back door. The night was dark and still. The sky a brilliant field of obsidian- polished and sparkly. He hadn’t seen anything like it.
As he walked, a spark of light shot across the sky, a shooting star. When he’d been a youthful idealist, the sight would have filled him with hope, and excitement. A star meant wishes granted, and adventures started. Now?  
A flash of light. Gone almost before you realize you’re seeing it.
Kind of like that short, intense moment when he and Brad had been on the same page, there in the truck when anything had seemed possible.
Now? Clay looked around him, not surprised to find that his feet had found their way back to the bench under the peach tree. Might as well end his visit home the same way he’d started it. He sank onto the bench and sighed. Time to accept defeat, and move on.
Wasn’t that what Bobby wanted? To move on? Brad had clearly moved on already. SO why not? Go back to the city, and instead of haunting clubs and bars, actually try to find someone who wanted a relationship? Someone like Augie Cruthers, but not Augie.
Augie was too young, too innocent and naive.
“You need to find someone your own age to settle down with.” He chided himself. Saying it out loud solidified the mess of thoughts that had sent him home in the first place. The dissatisfaction he’d felt with his life made sense. How could he be satisfied with frequent, brief affairs and one stands with men half his age, that mostly started in bars where let’s face it, he didn’t even understand the lyrics to the songs anymore?
“You need someone like yourself.” An owl hooted in the distance. Clay snorted softly. Maybe not exactly like himself. But definitely someone who was beyond infatuation with fads and appreciated a person for more than the size of his cock and the stamina he displayed in bed. Someone like Brad.
“Someone who is ready for the day to day of a relationship, not just looking for hot sex and expensive nights out.” Brad… responsibly employed, homeowner. Yeah, Brad would be perfect, but since Brad was out of the question… Then surely there were men in the city who had reached this same point? Where the talking and the watching television, and cooking and cleaning and showering together were as important?
“Can I apply for that position?”
For the second time in a week, Brad snuck up on him. “Didn’t think you were interested.”
“I...let’s just say I have reason to regret my hasty judgment.”
Reason? “You mean he finally broke through to you?”
“I can’t believe it myself,”Brad shook his head, then climbed over the fence. “I am really sorry that I didn’t believe you. But… you have to forgive me. You must realize how crazy it sounded.”
“I’m not in the habit of telling lies.” He had to stifle the instinct to hold the grudge. It would have been nice if  Brad had just taken his word for it, yeah. But the point was valid. “I will concede however, that some truths are best experienced rather than heard about.”
“He was...all transparent. And yet… I could see every expression, and ...Has he been talking to you all this time?”
Clay shook his head and scooted over on the bench, making room for Brad beside him. “No. Only since I got home. That night...After we…” Made love. He finished silently.
“I still can’t really believe it.”Brad sank onto the bench, hands clasped loosely in his lap. “He said it was my fault. I kept him here.”
Clay cautiously reached out and gaze Brad’s thigh a sympathetic squeeze. “I think… We all have to share some blame for that. I didn’t want to let go of the past any more than you did, and frankly, whether he wants to admit it or not, Bobby wouldn’t have hung around here waiting all this time unless he wanted to.”
Brad shook himself, then covered Clays hand with his own. “I don’t want to live in the past anymore. Neither you nor I was responsible for Bobby’s accident, and he did at least succeed in convincing me that he wanted us together.”
Relief never felt so good. Clay was almost limp with gratitude. “Oh thank God. I really couldn’t face going out there and … You know we’re too old for dating, right?”
“Speak for yourself!” Brad turned their hands over and squeezed. “I don’t want to date though. And I don’t want you out there looking for someone else. I was serious. I want to be the man who is there, all day every day for you. We can cook together, and do yard work, plant the fields and do the shopping. Share showers and--”
“Life.” Clay finished for him. “I think I’ve loved you forever, Brad. This isn’t just a thing. It’s always been there, and Bobby was right. I wanted you. I watched you. I loved you. That’s what made me feel guilty.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I loved you, too. But then, Clay?” Brad kissed him softly. “I don’t think that we’d be here now if we’d fallen into each other’s arms after Bobby died.”
“What do you mean?” Clay pulled away a little, so he could see deeper into Brad’s eyes, read his meaning. “You don’t believe this is a forever thing?”
“I believe it's a forever thing for the two of us now, as mature adults. I’m not so sure it would have survived all the issues of youth.”
Clay shrugged it off dismissively. “We’ll never know, will we?”
“It doesn’t matter. Come home with me now?”


If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

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