9/26/2014

Crawl in Bed with Benny Peters of Wet Paint


  
Crawling Into Bed With Benny Peters
And a Good Book: Wet Paint

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

Cotton. Definitely not silk. I’m completely vegan. Do you know how they make silk? :shudder:  I love the feel of cotton on my skin. There’s nothing else quite like it. Except for when Addy touches me. That there is the most indescribable feeling in the world.

What are you wearing?

I usually wear boxers to bed. I’ve thought about sleeping naked, but I’m not sure how well that would work while I’m at summer camp. Liam would probably have some comment to make.

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?

Apple slices and peanut butter. Protein and sweetness together. Way better than chocolate. But if you’re in the mood, there’s a shop nearby that makes a great vegan shake. I’ll run and grab us a couple. Did you want vanilla chocolate chip or raspberry nebula?

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Oh. Uh. Well. You see, I have some old textbooks in that drawer. I like going back to see where they got it wrong. Oh, and…um…(mumbles).

Sorry, Benny. What was that?

Benny sighs. “I am not saying for sure, but you might find some lube in there. Just don’t tell Addy, okay? I don’t think he needs to know that.”

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night? 
I usually start with them on and kick them off during the night. I hate being too warm, except in the winter. Then I love it.

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up? 
Dude, no. That’s…just no, okay?

What are we reading?
Wet Paint. Part two of the Transitions series by Will Parkinson. The first book, Pitch, was his debut novel.


Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Publisher: Harmony Ink Press
Blurb(s):
Although Addy’s heart and body bear the scars from his life before he was adopted by the Deans, he’s ached for something he thought he would never find. Until he met Benny. He isn’t sure how anyone can care for someone as broken as he is, even though he wants it desperately.

High school senior Benny Peters has his whole life planned out for him, until a chaste kiss at summer camp opens a new world of possibilities. Determined to erase Addy’s insecurities, Benny works to take away his boyfriend’s pain and replace it with love.

When Addy’s past intrudes on their future, it’s going to take everything Benny can muster to show that no matter what – or who – they face, they belong together.
Excerpt:
ADDY SAT in the car, worry creasing his brow. Not even an hour ago, he’d been so happy. Why was he so nervous now? His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with his dad. Would Benny still want him when he found out what had happened? Would he think Addy was too broken? Addy shivered. He tried to tell himself Benny would never be like that, but how could he know for sure?
“What’s up, little man? I can hear you thinking from over here.” Benny chuckled.
“Nothing, Benny. I’m okay.”
“Addy, c’mon. I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. I need to know what it is. I can’t help if you won’t let me.”
Addy took a deep breath. “I’m afraid,” he admitted. “Of what? Camp?” “No... of losing you.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you think you’d lose me?”
“Benny.” Addy sighed. “I need to tell you some stuff. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s really not going to be nice.”
Sales Links:
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Author Bio:

WILL PARKINSON believes that no matter what obstacles are thrown in the path of young love, it will always find a way to win in the end. He wants his characters to have their happily ever after, but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to come easily.
            None of this would have happened if he had followed the advice he was given many years ago. “What are you wasting your time on that for? It’s never going to amount to anything.” He believed it for the longest time, abandoning characters he’d created in his childhood.
            He picked up his very first m/m story by a writer named Eden Winters, who was an absolute joy when they corresponded. She asked him if he wrote and he told her the story. Eden explained to Will that the voices in his head would never go away and how he needed to let them out. With that thought in mind, Will put e-pen to e-paper once more. It was truly a liberating experience and one he has no intention of giving up again.
             

Author Contact:


9/24/2014

COVER REVEAL: DAMIAN'S DISCIPLINE by K.C. Wells & Parker Williams #mmromance #bdsm #coverreveal


Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Paul Richmond
Blurb(s):
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.

Excerpt:
Damian
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.”
Sales Links:


Rafflecopter Prize: $20 gift card to Amazon or ARe


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Tour Dates: September 24th, 2014


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:

9/22/2014

Story Orgy Presents: Heart of Clay pt 17 #serial #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 
Part 17


(c) June 2014 @Lee Brazil

September 22- It was over in seconds.

Violent thoughts- the urge to lash out, throw a punch, break something assailed Clay, but they were over in seconds. Fatigue took over, and slapping his hands on his knees he rose from the rocker cautiously. It slapped back down on the wood floor and rocked crazily before slowing to a halt. Sometime while he’d been contemplating his sins, darkness had fallen completely. The screen porch was cloaked in deep shadows and crickets were beginning their nightly chorus. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted.
“Clay?” Nan stood in the doorway silhouetted by the warm glow of the hall light, a concerned tilt to her soft chin.
“Yes, Nan?” His limbs felt heavy, his heart sharp, each beat seemed to slice a little more of his insides away. Soon he’d be just a hollow man, a husk with all the tender bits scraped out, dry and tough. Maybe that would be better, less painful.
“What happened to Brad? He didn’t want dessert?” Nan’s keen gaze flitted about the room, as though she might find Brad hiding behind a chair or under a bench. Wiping her hands on her apron, she entered the room, crossing to his side.
“Guess not.” Shrugging his shoulders was a monumental task. Glancing down at Nan, Clay continued, “ I think I upset him.”
“Tch. I hoped you two had gotten over this foolishness.” She fixed him with a stern eye. “First thing in the morning, you get on over there and apologize for whatever you did or said, you hear me?”
He didn’t need the prodding. He wanted Brad so much, yearned for his presence. He could lie, deny Bobby’s ghostly existence if necessary and beg forgiveness. Living with the lie wouldn't be any worse than living with guilt. “I hear.” Clay paused, would his grandmother think he was crazy if he told her? “Nan? Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Ghosts?” Her blue eyes narrowed slightly; her head tipped to the left in the gesture that usually meant she was thinking about what had been said. “What’s this about, Clayton?”
“I just wondered. Have you ever seen a ghost?” If she had, that might make it easier to confess his rather frequent encounters with Bobby. Then again, if she had, wouldn’t Nan have already told him? What if there was no ghost? What if it was all in his head?
“I haven’t.” Nan beckoned him with one hand to follow her back into the lighted hall and then on to the kitchen. “Come on. I’ve got a gallon of vanilla ice cream and some fresh, moist brownies. Just because Brad wants to cut off his nose to spite his face, doesn’t mean you have to as well.”
Clay trailed after her, wondering if he was about to get a lecture, a long rambling story, or a dose of tonic and an early bed-time. The cheery kitchen was redolent of chocolate and Clay’s stomach grumbled, his mouth watering. He hadn’t eaten much of his dinner, being distracted by Bobby’s presence. A stack of dessert bowls, an ice cream scoop and a bottle of chocolate syrup sat on the counter. He perched on a stool at the counter while Nan produced a pan of moist, still warm brownies from the warmer and set them on the counter.
“Cut those in sixteen pieces.” She handed him a dull knife and flat spatula then went off to the pantry to get ice cream from the freezer.
Clay pushed aside his troubles and cut into the pan of brownies. Moist, chocolatey temptation clung to the knife as he withdrew it after each cut, and finally he couldn’t resist any more. He scraped the brownie residue off the blade with one finger and popped it into his mouth.
A swift pop on the back of the head made his eyes water, but he just moaned dramatically and clutched the knife to his chest. “Nan,” he groaned. “These are awesome!”
“Oh hush,” she blushed and slapped the ice cream on the counter. “One scoop or two for you? I know that Pip wants two brownies and one scoop of ice cream.”
“I’ll do the same. You?”
“I never saw a ghost, Clay. But I believe they exist.”
The knife clattered from his hand, bouncing on the counter. “ugh.” He gurgled. “I thought you forgot about that?”
“ I didn’t ever see one.. Not personally, but… your great-grandfather, my father, he always said they were real. I often thought, because he was so adamant that ghosts were real, that he might have had an experience or two.” She put a scoop of ice cream on top of each brownie and then sealed the container quietly.
Clay decided to take a gamble on making a fool of himself. “What would you think if i told you I saw a ghost?”
“I’d think you had a troubled mind.” Her lips pursed in a thoughtful moue and picked up the syrup bottle, swirling a stream of it around the ice cream. “Did you see a ghost?”
“Bobby was here, at dinner.” He held his breath, then realized that was foolish and expelled it in a slow controlled rush. He picked up his dish and Pip’s and slid off his stool.
“I might have known that boy would haunt you if he had the chance.” Nan shook her head. Now, why couldn’t Brad have been that accepting?
“So, you believe me?”
Nan stopped and looked at him. “You’ve never lied to me, not that I didn’t recognize right off the bat.”


TO BE CONTINUED



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

9/15/2014

Story Orgy Presents: Heart of Clay Part 16 #storyorgy #mmromance



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 
Part 16


(c) June 2014 @Lee Brazil

Sept 15th - It was his favorite book.

Kicking off his boots, Brad stretched out wearily on the sofa. A soft knit afghan in three shades of green, another family treasured crafted by hand decades ago, lay across the back and he flicked it out over his legs. It  wasn’t that he was cold so much as that the weight of it felt reassuring, like the embrace of a loved one. It even held the faintest feminine scent still, a floral perfume that might have been his mother’s, or sister's or even his grandmother's for all he knew. He just knew that the afghan soothed some of the rage he felt, comforted him.
WIth a  sigh, Brad picked up a dog-eared paperback off the coffee table and let it fall open to any page. It didn't matter which. It was his favorite book, and wherever he started reading, page one or one hundred, he was instantly swept into the story- rescued from his own torments and caught up in the adventure as elves and hobbits alike journeyed far on a quest fraught with danger.
Only today, his comfort read didn’t work that way.
He couldn’t put himself in the place of the characters, couldn’t ignore Clay’s crazy claims or the niggling suspicion that if he’d only listened…
He wouldn’t be alone now. All by himself in a house full of ghosts… not real ghosts, not like Clay was talking about anyway. Ghosts were just memories, right? Listen to you. Real ghosts. You’re as crazy as he is.
Well, he had a house full of them, and thanks to his rash actions earlier, not even a beer to wash them away. Not that alcohol had done him any favors lately, not when every drunken dream brought nightmares … like Bobby fighting his way through a door. Thank god he’d woken up from that one. What would that have revealed? What was behind that door with Bobby? He shook off the half remembered dream and tried again to focus on the words on the page.
He knew this story backwards and forwards, it shouldn’t be this hard…
Maybe a movie. He could watch something… something with a lot of noise and lights and action that wouldn’t require thinking.  
“Ghosts,”he scoffed aloud, tossing the book to the other end of the sofa. As if. “Ectoplasm and emotion…” Visions of green slime and shadowy figures, thing he realized he’d picked up from horror movies he’d devoured as a teen, played out across his mind. What did the ghosts in movies do?
Hauntings usually meant violence, and strange, unexplained things like cold spots, and floating objects, or weird noises and shadowy attacks.
“Nothing ever happens like that around here.” He grumbled, stuffing a cushion behind his head and glaring up at the dated glass light fixture over head. “No flickering lights or moving objects. Sure as hell no one ever tried to push me down the stairs.”
Sitting up, he tried to remember everything he'd ever heard about ghosts, but couldn't come up with much more than he’d started with. Drafty spots… sure the house had some cold spots, but what old building didn’t?
The phone rang, and he ignored that too. Likely it was either CLay calling to apologize for his bad joke, or Nan checking on him because he hadn’t come back to the table. Either way, he wasn’t up to conversation.

Maybe a shower…
The hot water could wash away the sticky mire of emotion and clear his thoughts. Rising from the sofa, Brad stretched, letting his hands brush the ceiling, jerking back and glancing instinctively up as it seemed unusually cold on his fingertips. Idiot.  He sneered at himself. Just the air conditioning unit in the room above, chilling his room while the rest of the house accumulated the day’s heat.
“Ghosts.” He snorted again. If only it could be that simple. Find Bobby’s ghost, tell him how sorry he was how much he missed him, how much he regretted that his first instinct on Bobby’s death had been that he and Clay could be together.
“That’s it.” He pushed open the bathroom door and raised the window sash to let some air circulate. “That’s what I need to say…” He stripped efficiently, carefully putting his laundry in the basket in the corner.
“Need to make up for.” That’s what he’d been paying for all these years, wasn’t it? He turned the knobs on the tub until a needle pointed spray of hot water gushed through the pipes and pattered into the bottom of the tub.
Stepping into the stream, he immediately ducked his head into the hot water, let it sluice down his body and take away the tension. His eyes squeezed tight shut, he tipped his head up, and a light bulb went off.
Strange things happening? All around him the last few years…Things like strange letters written in the steam on a bathroom mirror? Like an irrepressible urge to go to the orchard, when the last thing he wanted was to see Clay Merk? Things like...
“Fuck!”
“Hello, Brad, you stubborn bastard, you.”



TO BE CONTINUED



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

9/11/2014

Pre-Order: Slave, Centurion part two

Hello everyone!

 I'm trying out the pre-order system at Amazon with my new chapter in the Centurion series.

Slave will be officially available at e-retailers on September 18th, but you can pre-order it at Amazon now.



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? 



Remember: This is part two of a serial story. Part one is titled Centurion and is available at ebook vendors on the web. 


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