Coming Soon: Donovan's Deal, Truth or Dare 6

Donovan's Deal

Release Date Dec 21

Buy Links: TBA

Creating a family is harder than keeping house. 

Donovan's patience is wearing thin, but Mischa needs time to make things right. 

Mischa Blake needs the relaxation of the Blake brothers' weekly poker games now more than ever as he feels the pressure of his responsibilities as a parent, partner, and student multiplying. When one of his siblings proposes reviving their game of Truth or Dare, Mischa revolts. Instead, they all agree to share a truth, and Mischa has to decide how much of his domestic situation to share with his family.

The frantic pace of life is overwhelming, and Mischa has begun to let things slide. With the holidays just around the corner, he figures his current situation is a temporary thing. When he misses one of his son's soccer game that Donovan left work early to attend, time runs out.

Upset by the hurt in their son's eyes, Donovan decides that something must be done. He's worried that he's pushed Mischa into doing things at the wrong time, pushed his dreams on his young lover, just pushed too hard for too much in general.

In a desperate attempt to get Mischa to think about what he wants instead of what Donovan wants, Donovan issues an ultimatum. He sends Mischa away with orders to think about his priorities.

  

Excerpt

"Where have you been, Mischa?"

It took a moment for the impact of the question to soak into his lust dazed mind. But he got it. Furious, he pushed Donovan's hands off and stepped back. "What do you mean where have I been? Last time I checked, I was an adult capable of coming and going as I pleased."

"That's funny. Really. Because last time I checked you and I were partners, the next best thing to married and the fathers of a disturbed child who needs structure, routine and love."

Donovan's voice lost its reasonable tone and his anger was clear. Tough. Fury coursed through Mischa's veins. Was Donovan suggesting somehow that he was at fault? "I am still your partner, and Matt's father. But that doesn't mean I don't have other responsibilities and can just hang around here picking up after the two of you."

"Is that how you see us? Responsibilities? I guess that answers me pretty neatly, doesn't it?"

His jaw worked furiously. Fist clenched at his side, Mischa opened his mouth to speak.

"Just...stop. Whatever clever, rebellious retort you're about to make, hold on to it. Don't say something you can't unsay, just, please listen to me." Donovan interrupted him.

Mischa drew in a long deep breath. Yeah, what he'd probably been about to say might have hurt someone's feelings...but what about his feelings? He nodded.

"I pushed you into too much, too quickly. The last three years should have been you enjoying college, us enjoying each other, and instead, I pushed you to adopt and be a parent. It was too much. But I could swear that you loved him as much as I did the moment we set eyes on Matt."

Heart aching, Mischa whispered, "I did." What the fuck was going on? Why did it sound like Donovan was breaking up with him?

"The thing is, Mischa. We're adults. We made all the choices and Matt got pulled along with us. Now, I understand how you could want to be free, to hang out with your friends, go to parties and..." He waved a hand. "Do whatever you want."

A warming flush spread over his face and Mischa lost all interest in sex. "What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to be here to go to the soccer game with us. You said you were going to the library. You disappeared. Ran off with Dex and Trick without even bothering to tell us where you were going, because I'm damn sure you didn't take those two to the library with you! How do you suppose that made me feel? How do you think it made Matt feel?"

Biting his lip, Mischa stared at his lover. "I..."

"I'm an adult and I can handle it, Mischa. But Matt is a child and he's been hurt by enough people who are supposed to care for him. I can't let you keep hurting him like that."

"I love Matt. I'd never hurt him."

"Your not being here hurts him, Mischa." Donovan met his gaze steadily. "You need to take the weekend and think this through."

Christmas Hop

Merry Christmas to 

Urb, Cornelia, Beth, Judi and Chris! 

I picked a few extra winners since I was delayed...

Thanks to everyone for stopping by, I wish you all a fantastic holiday season. 

Hey, we're hopping along again this holiday season, and I know you've got a lot more stops to make and only a few days to do it it in, so I'll make this quick...

There's something about the holiday season that makes us all just a little less cynical, a little more inclined to sympathy and good will. To me the ultimate expression of the holiday spirit is found in my favorite holiday movie, It's A Wonderful Life. You're probably familiar with it... a handsome Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, the banker whose fund are lost through no fault of his own. Clarence the angel shows a despondent George what the world would be like without his presence...and George learns a valuable lesson. Like all good Christmas movies, everything turns out happily ever after.

Because, as Clarence says, "Remember no man is a failure who has friends." The friends George has garnered through being a nice guy all these years end up donating, a dollar here, a dollar there, until they've collected enough to bail George out of trouble.

More than anything the holiday season is a time for remembering that we are not alone upon this Earth. This year in particular I have seen people reaching out to others, in ways big and small, making an impact. The other day I stopped to get gas in town and a grinning boy came out of the convenience store pleased as punch because a customer had purchased his chips when he was a dollar short. Stories are all over the internet of long lines of people paying it forward, picking up the tab for other's drinks, groceries, Christmas shopping, and so forth.

Angles are getting their wings in record numbers this year, and not because bells are ringing, but because people are giving generously, selflessly, willingly.

Thank you for stopping by my little corner of the blog hop. Please leave a comment and enter to win a copy of your choice of ebooks from my back list. Three winners will be chosen. You MUST leave an email address so I can contact you if you are chosen. Winners will be announced on this page on Dec. 18. Prizes not claimed by DEC 25th will be forfeit. 

Check out the other authors participating at http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

Crawl in Bed With Chris Quinton

Crawling Into Bed With Chris Quinton

And a Good Book - Dark Waters

*crawls across bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

Finest cotton, it feels so good on the skin. Silk is clingy and slippery...

Yes, I much prefer crisp and cool to clingy and slippery. What are you wearing?

Um, do you mean for real? Or what I would be wearing in my imagination?

Only the classiest French perfume. [Or maybe a very baggy cotton nightshirt.]

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

Rich, dark chocolate wrapped around brandy-soaked cherries, washed down with a fine red wine.

Oh that sounds awesome. I'm going to have to go find some of those. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?

Chocolate-coated brandy-soaked cherries? In Real Life, my notebook and pen for nighttime inspiration, my Kindle for those nights without inspiration, and headache tablets.

Hehe...let's go with the cherries, though we may have some use for that Kindle. Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?

Both. Be warned, I am a very restless sleeper ;-)

Just don't smack me in the eye and we'll be fine. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?

Of course you can, hon, if you're not that attached to them. Or any other delicate bits.

Okay, then. I'll just...er... scrunch up over here. What are we reading?

Dark Waters, an historical shapeshifter murder mystery, leaning towards the more traditional shifter of the Highland legends...

Flein is a wanderer by instinct and need, roaming the known world as the fancy takes him. In the Highland village of Glenfinnan, women have been raped and brutally murdered. The killer is a waterhorse, a monstrous shapeshifter by all accounts. But when Flein meets Donnchadh, first in its equine form, then its man-shape, he knows the waterhorse is innocent. Flein is drawn to the shapeshifter, but he finds it difficult to acknowledge it's more than a monster.

Donnchadh, though wary, shares the same attraction. They join forces to hunt for the real murderer, but time is short.  They must find the killer before more women die. Then suspicion is turned on them and the hunters become the hunted.

Excerpt

"Lindos," said the each-uisge, an implacable note in its rich velvet voice.

"Lindos," he echoed, "and while I'm talking, I'll do something about that mane of yours. It's a knotted mess. Have you no pride in your appearance?" He didn't wait for a response, just shifted off his boulder and knelt behind the creature. He took a handful of matted hair and began to tease the strands free. It was a clean mane, he discovered, just raveled by wind and water to wild elflocks, damp from the loch and scented like a clover meadow.

The tale of Lindos and Rhodes led onto other Greek islands. To Crete and Knossos and the story of Theseus, then on to Jason, the voyage of the Argo, the siege of Troy and Ulysses' wanderings. Donnchadh sat silently, not moving, not even when a tangle needed a sharper tug on his scalp.

Lost in his stories, aware only of the silk flowing ever more easily through his fingers, Flein forgot the binding and he forgot to feed the fire. Until a charred log slumped and he looked up to see only faintly glowing ashes and the full moon low in the sky. Dawn was only an hour or so away.

The pale light glowed pearlescent on the each-uisge's skin, brought strange highlights to its hair. Slowly, Flein gathered a double handful of mane and parted it to reveal the vulnerable nape with its curling infant-fine down. It drew him forward and he gave in to the temptation. He pressed his lips to the warm satin skin that smelled of clover and pine and woodsmoke, and his desire was an aching hunger deep in his belly. Donnchadh shivered but did not pull away.

His heart pounding, Flein stroked his hands across the wide shoulders, feeling the slight quiver in the muscles at the contact. He nuzzled the hair aside and sought the strong throat and Donnchadh's head tilted, letting him find the lobeless ear and suck—

Then the each-uisge moved with blinding speed. It tore itself free and was across the dying fire, facing him, broad chest rising and falling with its unsettled breathing. Its cock stood out, thick and heavy, the half-revealed head glistening with moisture.

"Donnchadh," Flein said, coming to his feet. It backed away, fading into the nightshade beneath the pines. "Donnchadh!"

No answer. Water lapped the shore, wind whispered through the trees, an owl called once, and Flein knew he was alone in the night.

Buy Link - https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/new-release-c-1/products_id/1214/?zenid=5766c9714e85773c4126b9cb5d54e925