5/04/2013

New Extended Excerpt: Loving Jacob




Enjoy a sexy new expanded excerpt for Loving Jacob

Prologue

Malcolm Jenner kept one eye on the silent, dark-haired man standing at the rear of the room as he made his way toward the glass door leading to the riotous explosion of color that was Penny's garden. Jacob didn't look like he was doing very well. Against the smooth blue paint of the walls his face was pale, his violet eyes red-rimmed and damp-looking. Disarrayed dark curls testified to the fact that he'd been running his fingers through them, a habit that Malcolm remembered well from their time together. Malcolm had no intention of allowing Jacob to leave the reception until he'd spoken to him, but the other man did a very creditable job of keeping people between them and avoiding eye contact with Malcolm.
Malcolm eased his way around the room, dodging chatting guests in their wedding finery and caterers in black pants and white shirts alike, moving ever closer to his target. He'd asked his brother Rick, the neurosurgeon, to keep Jacob occupied and unobtrusively lead him to the patio doors. They now stood engaged in conversation. Rick watched Malcolm's approach and attempted to keep Jacob from noticing him.
Malcolm slipped behind the other two and reached out to grasp Rick's hand in a quick shake. "Thanks, Rick, I'll take him from here."
Jacob whirled around, dark curls scattering. He raised his face and Malcolm's heart ached at the pain in his eyes. He extended a slightly shaky tanned hand to brush the hair away from Jacob's forehead, but pulled it back quickly when Jacob flinched.
"Jake, baby, I'm so sorry. I know how hard it must be to be here without Peter. Come outside and talk…" He trailed off as Jacob began shaking his head.
"No. No, I can't be around you right now. I don't want to talk to you, Malcolm." Tears leaked in a tiny silvery stream from Jacob's eyes and his slightly muscled frame appeared to vibrate.
The slender hands that had once stroked his flesh with urgent need rose to push him away, then ran again through the long black hair nearly touching his shoulders. Malcolm wanted to embrace the other man, to absorb all the hurt this day had brought his beloved, and replace it with warmth and security.
"I have to talk to you. There are things you need to know; things we need to discuss." Malcolm's heart broke for many reasons: to see the desolation on Jacob's face and because he knew that deep inside he actually felt a glimmer of happiness that Jacob was unattached again. He knew it had to be difficult for Jacob to be here, surrounded by Peter's family at his sister's wedding. He had a distinctly uncharitable wish that some of the obvious sorrow and anxiety Jacob so clearly felt was on his behalf.
"Not today, Malcolm. I’m here today because Peter would have wanted me to come. He'd have been here himself." Jacob didn't seem like he could handle much more stress on top of the wedding and Malcolm was willing to wait; he had, after all, been waiting for Peter and Jacob to end their relationship for the past five years, hadn't he? He had been highly skeptical that it would even last that long, had been positive that Jacob's relationship with Peter had been a deliberate attempt to hurt Malcolm. He frowned. He hadn't ever wished for Peter's death, though. The car accident that had taken Peter's life a year ago had been traumatic for Jacob and he'd wished fervently that he could've been there to help the other man through the devastation of the loss. Loss was something he had felt fully capable of dealing with.
"I was surprised that you accepted the invitation. Penny and I both were. We appreciate your coming." Malcolm cast a nervous glance over Jacob's shoulder into the garden. Especially since it gave me the chance to be here with you, to establish contact again.
"Of course I came. This is about family. Peter would have wanted me to come. Family was everything to him," Jacob replied, his voice steady. "Penny practically raised him, you know, after their parents died."
Malcolm understood that too. How could he not? For so many years family duty and responsibility had been his guiding force. Every decision he'd made had been considered from their perspective. What would his father, the neurosurgeon, think? What would his mother, the society wife, have to say? How would their society friends and neighbors view his actions? Since he'd married Penny twenty years ago, her brother Peter had been a part of his family. At one time, he'd considered his responsibilities to his family more important than even this man before him today. That time had passed, though it had taken a boot in the ass from an unlikely source for him to see it.
"How about if I come by in the morning with breakfast? Will someone be staying with you? I don't think you should be alone after this." Attending Peter's sister's wedding without his husband of five years had been a surprising action on Jacob's part. He and Penny had fully expected that Jacob would say good riddance to bad rubbish without a backward glance at his deceased spouse's remaining family. Hardly a charitable view, but Jacob had plenty of reasons to dislike him and Penny.
Jacob nodded and gestured toward a fair-haired man in his midthirties. "Peter's cousin, James, is staying at the condo with me. He's taking care of things." The condo he referred to had been Peter's when they first met and Peter had kept it as a vacation rental property after moving to Vermont to teach in the education department at the University of Vermont.
As though sensing he was the topic of conversation, the blond man turned in their direction, and upon seeing Jacob talking to Malcolm, broke off his conversation with the group of people where he stood and headed in their direction.
"All right, early tomorrow morning. I'll bring you breakfast from the Black Forest Deli. I really want to talk to you and clear the air between us." He wanted more than that, but was unwilling to speak of the want and desire that pulsed through him in the blond man's presence. Mentioning the gooey cherry stollen from the deli they had frequented as a couple was a deliberate and, he admitted, slightly underhanded way of bringing their past to the present. In the months that their affair had run hot, he had made a habit of gifting Jacob with the sweet treat on lazy Sunday mornings after long nights of steamy sex.
"Excuse me," the blond interrupted them. "Jacob is needed in the other room."
"Thank you, James." Jacob nodded and took the other man's hand in a white-knuckled grip that didn't escape Malcolm's notice. Good, Jacob had feelings for him still, even if they weren't the warm, fuzzy kind of feelings he'd once denied wanting from Jacob. That white-knuckled grip denoted the strength of the feelings involved. Given half a chance, he'd turn Jacob's hatred into love again. He could battle anything but indifference.
"I'll see you in the morning, Malcolm."
James's blue eyes burned into Malcolm's. He possessively raised Jacob's hand to press it into the crook of his arm. Stepping fractionally closer to the younger man, he smiled disdainfully. "Not too early, Jenner. We need our sleep."
Malcolm followed the other two men with his gaze as they left the room, locking on that spot where the two hands clasped together. Fuck. Had Jacob already moved on from Peter's death? Not again, he vowed. You're coming back to me, where you belong. He wouldn't take a backseat to another man in Jacob's life ever again. Once before, that beautiful man had been his and he would be again. Malcolm had learned a lot in the last five years and most of that learning had been done the hard way.
He'd never felt for another man the same level of attraction he felt for Jacob.  Just being in the same room with the slight dark-haired man sent prickles of awareness rushing through his body and thickened his cock in anticipation. Though he'd tried like hell to deny it, he'd known when he first set eyes on the younger Jacob, newly hired to work in the technology department at his office, that they were meant to be together, and this time he would do anything and everything in his power to guarantee that outcome. He'd made the mistake once before of putting another's needs before his love's; of believing that only he could direct their future. The duty and responsibility that his parents had drummed into him from birth to carry on the family name had been fulfilled. The price it had cost him had been more than he would have willingly paid if he'd been aware of the consequences of honoring his family name above all others.
So yeah, he'd bring up the past any chance he got, remind Jacob as often as possible how good things had been between them from the start.
Chapter One
Five Years Earlier
Malcolm gritted his teeth and reminded himself that an office fling with a man who had to be at least ten years his junior was out of the question. He and Penny had long since relinquished any pretense of monogamy in their marriage and reached an amicable agreement to conduct their affairs discreetly out of respect for their son and their friendship. Fucking purple-eyed twinks in the elevator at work? Not discreet.
He kept his gaze focused on the gleaming silver metal of the doors as the elevator made its excruciatingly slow way up to the third floor. His glance flicked to the reflection beside his. The younger man stood casually, shoulders propped against the wall, licking pink lips. His purple gaze in the hazy reflection was focused…fuck…on Malcolm's obvious erection beneath his dark dress pants. Discretion. Discretion. He snarled at his libido. There will be no casual hookups with people from the office, he warned his eager cock. He shifted to the side slightly, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal from the other man. Damn it. That kid had the sexiest eyes he'd ever seen. He wanted like hell to see them glaze over as he fucked the tight ass hinted at by the khaki pants he wore. He didn't go much for the intimacy of face-to-face encounters, but for the sight of those eyes and that mouth in the throes of orgasm, he'd make an exception. His tendency toward quick casual encounters disguised his preference for male partners and kept word of his homosexuality from getting back to his parents, his partners in the firm, and out to the public.
A law office, like any other place of business, was a microcosm of the world at large. Malcolm knew from being on the receiving end of gossip from his secretary Marge that every action and interaction between employees was fodder for the gossip mill. Being the subject of water cooler gossip lacked appeal and offended his sense of dignity, as did the knowledge that he apparently couldn't control his urges around the tech guy.
He threw in the towel and gave up the fight against his attraction to the young man from the technology department. Malcolm caught that sultry purple gaze on his cock for what must have been the hundredth time. The slight young man brushed against him in an intentional teasing slide while he tried to exit the elevator on the second floor.
Impulsively, Malcolm grabbed Jacob's hand and pulled him back inside the otherwise-empty space. He kept that small, soft hand locked in his own as he allowed the heavy metal doors to slam shut and the elevator to rise to his own floor. There he slapped his palm against the button that prevented the doors from opening. He'd had all the titillation he could stand. Malcolm swept the young man into his embrace. He tilted Jacob's head upward with one hand and dropped his mouth passionately, almost brutally, to kiss the other man. His other hand tangled in the black curls that had taunted his senses over the past weeks. He forced the soft pink lips apart, then swept his tongue inside. Instantly he was absorbed in the heated, slick haven of Jacob's mouth. The honeyed sweetness drew him further in and his tongue eagerly sought the textures and flavors that had been hidden there. Fuck. He could drown in the wet heat he found behind those soft lips. It was addictive. Jacob didn't even try to escape the kiss; in fact, he seemed to be doing his best to encourage it. He brushed his tongue against Malcolm's, sweeping it gently along the roof of his mouth, seeking and finding the sweetest spots. Both men were panting heavily when they separated.
Malcolm pulled back and spoke harshly. "Is that what you're after, little boy? You want a quick fuck in the elevator to start the week off right?"
Jacob gasped and tried to pull away, but Malcolm wouldn't let him. "No! Well, yeah, but that's not all I want." The young man seemed to be a bit dazed and shook his head as though to clear it. His shaking hand rose to push through the tangled black curls that Malcolm could picture so easily coiling around his cock while Jacob knelt on the dull gray carpet sucking him off, as he had every intention would happen very shortly.
"Well, that's all I'm offering. Take it or leave it." Malcolm drew his hand down the length of his cock, which had pulsed to aching life during the elevator trip. Jacob wore light, spicy citrus cologne that seemed to linger in Malcolm's nostrils long after the encounter between them had ended and being in the elevator with the sexy younger man had a predictable effect on his dick.
"Look, I'm very busy. I have a few minutes for you now, but…" He let his arousal-roughened voice trail off, waiting to see if Jacob took the bait. Jacob's purple-hued gaze locked on his hand gliding up and down, pressing against his throbbing cock behind the zipper of the black dress pants he wore. That gaze was an added caress that fired his blood even hotter and he swore softly. "Fuck. You want it. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in you every time you come near me."
Jacob licked his lips, but remained silent. Malcolm flipped open the button of his pants and began lowering the zipper carefully. The metallic clink of the zipper filled the spaces between their labored breaths. He spoke harshly. "I have a meeting with a client in ten minutes. I need to take care of this. You can watch, or you can help; take your pick."
He pushed aside the black cotton of the briefs he wore and drew his thick cock out of his pants, watching that silky pink tongue slick over Jacob's lips again. He wanted to feel that tongue tracing his shaft and flickering over its sensitive crown. Slowly he trailed his hand up from his heavy swollen balls to the precum-slickened head and squeezed gently, his eyes still locked on Jacob's face. The younger man breathed heavily, eyes hot, molten purple liquid. Malcolm stroked himself more quickly, silently urging Jacob to his knees, willing him to take his dick into his mouth.
He groaned in approval when Jacob dropped in seeming obedience to the unspoken command. Malcolm pulled his hand away from his cock and wound his fingers through the wild curls that had teased his senses since he'd first noticed the boy. He used his handful of silky hair to guide the pink mouth where he wanted it, rubbing the soft, moist lips against his tip before pressing, gently seeking entrance.
"You have done this before, right?" He couldn't help asking as the youthful innocence and enthralled look of wonder in the purple eyes gazing up at him gave him pause. A blow job from a novice might not be the best idea. He could wait to feel those sweet lips closing around him if he would have the privilege of teaching this gorgeous man how to suck a man's cock.
Jacob's tongue flicking in a velvety caress, first across his lips, then Malcolm's swollen crown, vanquished any intention of preserving that innocence. "No teeth…" was all he managed to choke out before a blazing hot mouth engulfed his hardness with enthusiasm. Rough swirling strokes of Jacob's tongue along his crown and under the rim convinced him that giving in to his urges made sense. He groaned his pleasure as the silken heat of that agile tongue burned wet trails from the rim of his cock up, over the throbbing head and down again to the base. He jerked, hands pulling and clenching tight in the silky black curls. Malcolm guided Jacob in a rhythm that set his balls to buzzing and a hot warmth spreading out from the base of his spine. The sensations rocketed up through his aching length and he found release in a series of convulsive spurts of cum that Jacob sucked up and swallowed without pause.
Enough experience guided those lips and that tongue to erase any doubts Malcolm may have had about starting something with Jacob. However innocent Jacob may appear, he was clearly old enough and knew enough to satisfy a lover in this way. Malcolm felt absolutely certain that this was just the start of something.
As the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through his body, Malcolm pulled Jacob to his feet and brought him in for another kiss. He fastened his trousers and then set the other man aside before pressing the button to open the doors of the elevator. He strode forward, leaving Jacob gasping for breath as he collapsed back against the wall of the elevator. He looked back over his shoulder and bit back a groan at the sexy sight of those dazed purple eyes, the wildly tousled black curls, and the passionate flush on the delicate cheekbones. So much for discretion.  He'd just have to hope the last ten minutes hadn't caught anyone's attention on the security cameras. Not that anyone in security would gossip about anything seen or heard on the security tapes.  Confidentiality was key in legal work and anyone who discussed the surveillance tapes or shared their contents without being legally obligated to do so would be terminated.
"Meet me here at six." He tossed the directive over his shoulder and hurried past the empty reception desk to pause at the office suite marked with his name on a brass plate. That shiny brass plate signaled his only rebellion to date from parental control. His father, the neurosurgeon, had wanted him to go into medicine and join his practice. In an unprecedented act of rebellion that had earned him a few frosty glares, Malcolm had elected to attend law school. Difficult as his parents had found it to accept, the sight of blood made him physically ill. A career in medicine was not an option. Announcing his desire to practice law had been difficult, but his family had accepted his career choice before he graduated law school. After all, it was an entirely respectable career with prospects for public service and prosperity. He was sure that announcing that he was gay wouldn't have gone over nearly as well. His brother became the neurosurgeon in his place with alacrity. In every other aspect, his life followed the blueprint the Jenners had laid out for their eldest son at birth: excel at school and in sports, attend prestigious universities, get married and have children, and above all, do nothing to embarrass your parents.



REVIEWS
 
Mrs. Condits gives Lee Brazil's Loving Jacob FOUR & a HALF Sweet Peas -".... Loving Jacob by Lee Brazil completely threw me for a loop and I loved it!..." Mrs. Condit Reads Books


    Pick up the Sequel to Trapping Drake today! 



    "I"m not the type of guy who lets someone else control my life, Jesse."

    5/03/2013

    New Release: Randall's Romance


    On May 1st, My latest Regency novella released from Evernight Publishing! 

    This sexy m/m regency is part of a series I'm working on with the fabulous Raven McAllan! Look for her contribution later this month in Celia's Claim. 





    When Randall Gretton's father leaves his family behind to seek out his lost love, Randall finds an unexpected sympathy in his father's actions. The dashing soldier takes completely to heart his father's advice to his children, "If you are fortunate enough to find love, then seize it."

    Is a chance encounter at a masquerade Randall's chance at lifetime love?


    EXCERPT



    He closed the door behind himself and turned the key in the lock. The book room was lit by a single porcelain candelabrum on the mantel piece. In the flickering candlelight he located Terence at the fireplace, swirling a snifter of brandy in his hand. Terence turned his head, tensing at the sound of the key turning in the lock.
    "Never fear. It's just me. I'd about given up hope of finding you; there are so very many highwaymen present tonight. Next time you must choose a more singular disguise." Checking the room carefully for any other entrance, Randall realized Terence had chosen the perfect place for their encounter.
    The highwayman glanced back at him, dark eyes glittering through the slits of his long mask. "I'd hate to draw attention." Hi voice was muffled by the mask, but Randall caught the faint foreign accent he aped and rolled his eyes.
    Randall felt his blood heat as that hooded gaze traveled down his form. His cock stirred and this time he made no move to hide his interest. "Truth, Terence, attention is to be avoided, but there is something to be said for ease of recognition in these circumstances."
    He crossed the Aubusson carpet to stand in front of his lover, drew the man to him. Terence came willingly enough into his embrace, but when Randall tried to raise the man's domino to reveal his features, Terence caught his hand in a gloved grip. "No. Just in case, we must be discreet."
    "I did lock the door, you know." Randall buried his face in the fabric and tightened his arms, crushing Terence along his length. The man's costume was a miracle of tailoring, for he seemed to have even added padding to his narrow shoulders and lifts to his boots.
    "Yes, but that might not be the only key."
    Truly, Terence was more concerned than usual about being recognized! He'd even foregone his normal heavy drenching of spicy oriental scent in favor of a delicate sandalwood cologne that teased at Randall's senses quite delightfully. Reluctantly Randall released his crushing grip on the domino and let his hands slide down Terence's back to cup his taut buttocks through the thin pantaloons. "Very well, then. Come away with me for the night so we can be private."
    "I cannot." Hard hands closed on his own buttocks, squeezed them meaningfully. Randall shivered. His cock thickened, his blood stirred. Terence pulled him closer still, so that their groins rested against one another. A few thin layers of fabric separated them, but the heat was as unmistakable as the thick ridge his prick rubbed against.
    "But I leave tomorrow, I told you as much." Randall protested, grinding into the sweet pressure on his prick. "Never mind. If this is all the moment we have, then I want more than this." He wedged his hands in between their bodies, enjoyed Terence's gasp when he squeezed the man's prick through his pantaloons, and began working their garments open.
    "You're very bold tonight." The breathless statement was followed by a swift, muttered curse as Randall caught their pricks in his hand and stroked them together.
    "I?" Randall leaned into Terence and bit the man's ear lobe sharply. "I suggested we meet in the usual place, secure and behind closed doors. You were the one who had a hankering for challenging the ton. Is it turning you on, making you hot to think that just a few feet away the others are dancing and drinking and making merry?"
    "Damn you, harder!" Terence's hand closed over his and Randall shuddered as the grip tightened, the rhythm roughened. He stared down between them, to where their hands slid up and down, squeezing drops of clear liquid from each prick that mingled and streamed down to slick the path of their movements. Terence's hand on his cock was more erotic than ever, and maybe it was the thought of being caught out, of the scandal that lurked, but his body was tensing, and beads of perspiration formed. He threw back his head, slipped his free hand down the back of Terence's pantaloons and into his small clothes. Terence trembled against him, Randall soothed him with a whispered word, cupped his buttock, and let his fingers trail along the crease of the man's arse.
    "Have a care...we can't do that here."
    "I am aware," he chuckled dryly, catching his breath. His fingers brushed over the puckered hole, Terence shuddered, his cock stiffening still further, the skin stretched so tight and fine Randal could swear he felt the man's heart beat in the blood that swelled his organ.
    "Damnation...so very good." Terence was bucking into his grip, losing his rhythm. Randal rubbed the hole, pressed the very tip of his finger inside, and let the exultation flood him as Terence's seed spilled along his cock, in jet after jet.
    "That's right." He murmured. "Give me your pleasure." He milked the softening cock of every last drop of seed, then wiped them both off with his handkerchief.
    His cock throbbed with want, and he smiled at the man he'd come to realize was most decidedly not Terence. "At this point, Terence would drop to his knees and suck me. Are you of a like mind?"
    "So you've realized I'm not your friend, have you?" The strange highwayman tucked himself away and refastened his pantaloons. "What happens now?"
    "Now, I'm still in need of release, and you are a likeminded fellow it seems. If you cannot bring yourself to suck me, then your hand will do as well."
    The black domino muted the man's laughter, but he obligingly dropped to his knees on the plush carpet and with a little deft maneuvering of his mask and Randall's cock, had him encased in wet heat and strong suction within moments.
    Randall sighed and let his hands rest on the velvet of the mask, ordinarily he'd have twined his fingers in his lover's hair, to give his hands something to do. Idle hands are the devil's work his mother used to say, but then again...so was this sodomy. "You're very good at this," he sighed, sinking deeply into the wet mouth, enjoying the light scrape of teeth. His blood surged, an agile tongue toyed with the tip of his cock on each retreat, swirling and sucking, drawing rushes f pleasure from him as his body tensed, thighs stiffening. Heat pooled and exploded, and with it his seed pulsed into the receptive mouth.
    As soon as his senses returned he withdrew politely. The stranger rose to his feet as Randall tucked himself away again. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me your name, highwayman?"
    "You don't suppose correctly. Unless, of course, you'd like to tell me yours, Robin of the Hood? No? I thought not." The man swept a deep bow and waved to the door. "After you, my lord thief."

    5/02/2013

    Crawl in Bed with Elyzabeth M. VaLey




    Crawling Into Bed With Elyzabeth M. VaLey
    And a Good Book

    Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
    Cotton, soft yet not too slippery. 

    What are you wearing?
    I like to keep things simple and comfy: a band t-shirt and black undies. Did I mention I’m braless? 

     What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
    White chocolate with bits of coconut. Mmmmmm

    If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
    Nightstand drawer? I have none of that, just a regular little table with lip balm, alarm clock, hand cream, lamp, notebook, pens, glasses case, water bottle and oh, wait, no, where are you going? Come back! Hey, no, there’s nothing to see inside my closet. Come here! No, no, don’t open that drawer! Stop!

    Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
     Depends on the season, but I tend to burry myself in the duvet like a burrito. 

    Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
     Sure darling, but be aware that I might ask for something in exchange. *wink*

    What are we reading? (include your cover art, buy links & excerpt)
     A Dragon’s Heart, A Demon’s Blood

    http://elyzabethmvaley.weebly.com/uploads/9/2/0/3/9203950/9486432.jpg


    Buy links:







    Excerpt:

    Glimpsing the tent in his jeans, she gasped.

    “Already?”

    In an instant, he was upon her, his mouth devouring hers and making her legs weak.

    “You make me lose control, sweetheart, and I’ll be damned if that hasn’t happened in years.”

    His hands slid down her waist over her hip and onto her thigh. Her breath hitched as she searched Adrian’s dark eyes.

    “Already, you ask?” He sneered, his calloused fingers rising higher and caressing the junction between her legs. His fingertips skimmed over her labia, finding her wet entrance. His grin became smug. Adrian’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed red as he dipped two fingers inside her, wringing out a breath she’d not been aware of holding.

    “You’re already wet for me, sweetheart.”

    Bringing his lips down to her, he stole another short kiss that had her whimpering against him.

    “Adrian.”

    She hugged him, bringing him closer and searching for his warm touch again. His eyes scanned her face, his gaze softening.

    “You don’t want this, sweetheart.”

    “Yes, yes I do,” she replied pushing herself against his hand. His thumb brushed over her clit. Victoria tensed. Her orgasm hung from a cliff, ready to fall.

    “I do want it.”

    Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled him to her mouth, teasing the seams with her tongue. He groaned and she tasted him with longing.  Sucking on his tongue, she made love to it as he pleasured her with his fingers. Her body became a mass of over-sensitized sparks as he coordinated his thumb with his seesawing digits. His hand on her waist, held her in place as she humped against him.

    “Come on, sweetheart.”

    His husky baritone triggered her release. Victoria cried out, her pussy convulsing in short waves, hot liquid dripping onto Adrian’s fingers. Her towel fell to a heap on the floor as she lost control, the cool breeze doing little to soothe her heated skin. She wanted more. She wanted all of him.

    Victoria moved to embrace him but he stepped away from her. Drawing his fingers into his mouth, he briefly closed his eyes emitting a barely audible sound of pleasure. When he opened them again, she gasped. Red sparks danced in his green depths.

    “No, Victoria. You don’t want this.”

    Shaking his head, he turned around and strode out of the room. Victoria stood rooted to the spot, watching in shock as he left the apartment, the main door slamming shut. Tears dampened her vision. Picking up the t-shirt he’d given her, she put it on. More tears trailed down her cheeks as the smell of detergent mingled with his scent. Taking a deep breath, she hastily brushed them away.

    “Get a grip, Vicky.”

    Wrapping the discarded towel around her wet hair, she strode to the kitchen, her stomach growling. She didn’t think she’d find anything edible in the small kitchen, but luckily Adrian kept a box of cereal and a few cartons of unopened milk.  Digging into the meal, she shivered slightly as an unsettling feeling grew in her chest. The watchful eyes were back.

    Please include any links you'd like to share with readers.






















    Pick up the Sequel to Trapping Drake today! 



    "I"m not the type of guy who lets someone else control my life, Jesse."

    5/01/2013

    Recipe Theme of the Month: Quesadillas

    When I was a kid, Taco Bell was new. Let that soak in for a minute. Yes, I am that old. My mom made tacos for dinner every once in awhile, and we loved it. But all that other cool Mexican food ? Burritos, enchiladas, quesadillas? Yeah. We didn't have those until we moved back to Texas when I was a pre-teen.

    Tex-Mex quickly became a favorite staple of our family meals, and still is. Today we use our imaginations and go beyond where we started of course. A quesadilla isn't just a grilled cheese sandwich on a tortilla instead of white bread. 

    This month I'll be sharing a few of our favorite quesadilla recipes.  

    This first is adapted from an Emeril Lagasse recipe. 


    BLACK BEAN & CORN QUESADILLAS

    2 teaspoons olive oil, plus more for cooking quesadilla
    1/2 cup diced red pepper
    1 cup frozen corn
    1/2 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained
    ¼ cup minced onion
    1 tablespoon diced green chiles
    1 teaspoon ground cumin
    1 lime, juiced
    10 flour tortillas
    1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro
    3/4 cup grated Monterey jack cheese   

    Directions

    Heat 1 olive oil over medium heat. Add vegetables and seasonings. Cook until heated through.
    Add the lime juice, stir to combine, and remove from heat.

    To assemble: Lay one tortilla in a hot skillet. Add 1/4 cup filling and then top with 2 tablespoon grated cheese. Top with another tortilla and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until slightly browned on the bottom tortilla. Flip and cook on the other side until slightly browned and the cheese has melted.

    Cut each quesadilla into six triangles and serve warm with salsa, sour cream, or guacamole.



    Pick up the Sequel to Trapping Drake today! 



    "I"m not the type of guy who lets someone else control my life, Jesse."

    4/30/2013

    On Writing : Perseverance

    Seems like every time I think I'm getting close to the end of a project... it all goes away. Pfft. Nothing. I sit at the desk and stare at the blank pages and the words just don't come. 

    What to do?

    Seek inspiration. 
    Watch a movie. 
    Read a book. 
    Take a hike. 
    Bake a batch of cookies.
     Listen to anew album. 

    Come back refreshed and remember...

    “The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.” ~Rocky Balboa~



    And so I'm heading back to the writing cave and working on my new contemporary piece :) Y'all have a good one. 


    Pick up the Sequel to Trapping Drake today! 



    "I"m not the type of guy who lets someone else control my life, Jesse."

    4/29/2013

    Top Five : Kissing Quotes

    Top Five Kissing Quotes 

    Breaking away from the music today to visit another source of inspiration. As anyone who knows me well can tell you, I love kissing. Kissing to me is a language all its own. In many ways I find kissing to be more intimate than most sex acts. 

    So, here are a few of my favorite kissing quotes, again, in no particular order! 

    1. A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years. -Rupert Brooke 
    2. Happiness is like a kiss. You must share it to enjoy it. -Bernard Meltzer 
    3. Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss. -John Keats 
    4. The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer. -Oliver Wendell Holmes 
    5. We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine. -Eduardo Galeano 


     





    Click HERE to Pick up the Sequel to Trapping Drake today! 



    "I"m not the type of guy who lets someone else control my life, Jesse."


    4/28/2013




    Don't Miss This...This is a great and fun way to give karma a kiss—a good sweet endearing 'thank you' kiss...here’s what it’s all about...Post a link with a snippet of a book, blog, new release, award...anything, as long as it is NOT ABOUT YOU. Include anything about the book: why you liked it, favorite character, great cover...whatever you want.

    My choice this week is ePistols at Dawn by ZA Maxfield


    This is the kind of story that grabs you right away and won't let you go until you're 100% sure that the characters are going to quit being assholes and get their shit together. I kept covering one eye and shaking my head, going, no that's a bad idea. Don't do that, don't say that... 

    But you know what? They did. 


    Description
    Choose your weapons.

    Jae-sun Fields is pissed. Someone has taken the seminal coming-out, coming-of-age novel Doorways and satirized it. He’s determined to use his Internet skills and his job as a tabloid reporter to out the author as the fraud and no-talent hack he’s sure she is.

    Kelly Kendall likes his anonymity and, except for his houseboy, factotum and all-around slut, Will, he craves solitude. There’s also that crippling case of OCD that makes it virtually impossible for him to leave the house. He’s hidden his authorship of Doorways behind layers of secrets and several years’ worth of lies—until he loses a bet.

    Satirizing his own work, as far as he can see, is his own damned prerogative. Except now he has an online stalker, one who always seems several steps ahead of him in their online duel for information.

    A chance meeting reveals more than hidden identities—it exposes a mutual magnetic attraction that can’t be denied. And pushes the stakes that much higher, into a zone that could get way too personal…

    Warning: This book contains large Korean men; Will, the houseboy, factotum, and all-around slut; hot sexy manlove including oral sex, and serious ass play. (Jae’s note to self: OCD + socks + mouth = BAD.)

    Chapter One



    Jae Fields sat in front of Adversary editor-in-chief Alonso Vega’s desk, picking a piece of imaginary lint off the sleeve of his military-inspired coat. Vega leaned back in his expansive leather chair and drummed his fingers on the plushly upholstered armrest. “And this is newsworthy? Who cares about romance novelists?” He sat up. “Don’t you have something more important to write about?”

    “This is important. We always, always out the actor or politician who pretends to be straight for filthy lucre. Why not out someone doing the opposite?”

    “Because it’s a harmless dodge and one that doesn’t have any significance with how people perceive homosexuals.” Vega was almost through with him. Jae could tell by the way he glanced at the clock on the wall.

    “It just pisses me off. Fraud.” He tried to look suitably idealistic.

    “I see. This woman is a poseur so she’s newsworthy. I hate to tell you this but you can’t swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a poseur. I’ll give you two days to come up with a better reason to go after her than that she pisses you off, Fields. Find something that makes some sort of damn sense. Like she’s advocating the use of unsafe butt plugs or something. Anything, because a personal crusade isn’t what we do here.”

    Jae contemplated this. “I thought that crusade was exactly what we do here.”

    “Yes.” Vega stood, clearly intent on ushering him out of his office manually. “But we have to pick our infidels, don’t we?” The door closed in Jae’s face before he could reply.

    On the way back to his cubicle Jae saw Shannon Israel pop like a prairie dog from behind an oatmeal-colored partition. “What did he say?”

    “I’ve got two days. I have to make my case in two days or I can forget it and he’ll assign me something else.” Two more heads popped up to his left.

    “Have you read the book yet? It’s actually good. Hilarious. Here…” Bill Parker pulled his copy of Windows up from behind the wall like a puppet and waved it. He read an excerpt that made Shannon blanch. “He kills me.”

    Jae gave her a hard stare, but she cursed soundly. “Oh, if that were only true.”

    “Shannon?” said Bill.

    “What?”

    “Shut up.” His head dropped below the cubicle visibility line. Shannon’s followed it down.

    “Sorry to rain on the gay-pride parade,” she muttered, a disembodied voice floating over the rows of partitions. “I’m just saying… That’s all I’m saying.”

    “And yet,” Bill snarked, “you continue to say it, over and over, until we’re all sick to death.”

    “Not me,” Abby, Shannon’s office BFF called out, from somewhere beyond the first line of industrial partitions.

    “Thanks, baby,” said Shannon.

    “’Course, I hate to say it,” Abby continued, “but I loved this book. I howled with laughter. It kind of reminded me of Tom Jones, or Fannie. Sorry, Jae. Love you.”

    Everyone’s desktop pinged at once, and when Jae got there he had a global instant message that read, “Suck up,” from Bill.

    He noticed his own copy of Windows lying on his desk. It wasn’t the book. It wasn’t even the writing, which, he had to admit, if you took it as satire, was…extremely funny. It wasn’t even, though he could make a case, that the book had been written from a gay man’s perspective by what was obviously not a man at all.

    No.

    It was that she’d called it Windows, a not-so-subtle reference to the one and only thing Jae still held sacred from high school years he’d rather forget: Doorways, the coming-of-age novel by Kieran Anders.

    Jae had read the cover off that book by the time he was sixteen and knew it practically by heart. So when someone he knew mentioned to him that the book Windows by Kelly Kendall could be considered an affectionate homage, he’d picked it up, in print no less, rather than e-book format, and had been appalled to see that it was less an homage than a blatant rip-off, a travesty of bad taste and worse writing and just plain porn.

    Jae read it in horror, cover to cover, exhibiting the very inability to put down a book, no matter how bad, which formed the heart of his desire to write. He’d finished it and shaken it out of his hand with the vague sense that it clung there like something sticky and that everyone else could tell he’d read it simply by looking at him.

    It’s not that he wasn’t a big fan of porn. He was. Maybe the book even gave him a boner or two. But no one, no one messed with Doorways on his watch.

    It was time to share the love, he decided, launching his web browser. He’d had to search out Kendall’s email address from the woman’s publisher, Diabolique Press. Unlike most writers, she had no website or blog that Jae could find. She was apparently reclusive in the extreme. There was a tiny blurb about her, and when asked, by one Sberryfields, Jae’s porn-buying alter ego, her publisher had given him an email address and directed him to write to “Kelly Kendall” there.

    He felt Shannon ease up behind him and absently reached out a hand to pat her.
    “This guy really bugs you, doesn’t he?” she asked.

    “She does. Yes.”

    “What makes you so sure it’s a woman? It might be he’s just exactly what he says.” She put a fresh cup of coffee by his elbow and he smiled up at her in thanks.

    “No way a gay man is going to send up Doorways.” Jae shook his head. “It’s…like…the holy grail of coming-out novels. Catcher in the Rye for those of us not destined to be homicidal assholes.”

    Shannon smiled. “Ah. The sacred author Kieran Anders.”

    “Yeah.” He turned back to the computer. “I’m on my sixth copy. My first disintegrated from adolescent tears, the next three I inscribed and gave to the first three boys I thought could be ‘the one’, the fifth was stolen by a certain film star who didn’t exactly remain anonymous after he spent the night with me, and the one I have now? I keep in a safe.” He sighed. “I guess you could say it’s special to me.”

    “So our Mr. Kendall treads on sacred ground.”

    “Yep.” Jae tapped a few words out on the edit profile screen. “Should I be SberryFields, or go to the full-length StrawberryFields?”

    “What about KillingFields?”

    He grinned. “That’s my profile at LiveJournal. I’m making something up that sounds girly for MySpace so I look like any other fangirl if Kendall decides to check me out.”

    “Oh, SberryFields then, it has fewer letters to type.”

    “Got it… I thought so too. Thanks.”

    “You going to just write a fan letter?” She leaned her hip on his desk. “Going under cover?”

    “Yep.” He didn’t look up. “See me. See me squee.”

    “Go get her, tiger.” She moved away after a moment and he was glad. This was personal somehow and he wanted to get on with it.

    Jae smiled. Oh yes. Let the word go forth to those rapacious enough to pimp the book Doorways for their own financial gain. Jae-sun Fields was not about to stand idly by and watch that happen.


    * * *


    Kelly Mackay was up to his balls in the sheer pleasure of being Kelly Mackay. Will Lanier, houseboy, factotum and general all-around slut was rubbing his shoulders, having just brought in a steaming mug of tea. The appointment with his tax accountant was postponed due to illness and he’d beaten the deadline for his latest screenplay by twenty-four hours. That meant he was free to spend the whole, entire, luxurious day doing nothing. He could read a good book, answer emails, lie in bed all day watching Doctor Who on video, or just lie naked on the living room floor and count the cobwebs on the ceiling. If Will were the type to let any linger.

    Will’s magical fingers kneaded out any remaining tension.

    “You’re sure you got it right?” Kelly asked. “The appointment has been cancelled?”

    “Yes. I got it right. The man has the flu; he could barely talk. He said he’d see you next week probably. Maybe longer.”

    “I hate to hope it will take him a long time to get better.” Kelly frowned.

    “But you do.” Will thumped his back and started picking up the books Kelly had been looking at the night before. They were all over his elegantly spare office. On the floor, covering the large mahogany desk, lying open, spines up, even though Will lectured him endlessly. It was the one thing he did that was careless, leaving the books like that.

    “Not that one, I’m still going over it.” Kelly held out his hand and Will handed him the book. Kelly smacked Will’s luscious ass with it as the younger man leaned over a file box to retrieve a magazine. “I have a ton of—”

    “Nothing doing.” Will leaped neatly out of the way before Kelly could land a second swat. “You are going to relax if I have to bend myself over every piece of furniture in this house to get you to do it.” He demonstrated a deep forward bend, with not a little shimmy in it, and winked from between his legs.

    That drew a look from Kelly. “Excuse me?”

    “Figure of speech.” Will stood.

    “Wishful thinking.”

    “Ouch.” Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Somebody’s pissy this morning.”

    “I’m not pissy.” Kelly got up and moved to the window. “Sorry.” He held his arm out to Will and the kid slid under it. At five ten Kelly wasn’t the tallest man, but Will was half a head again shorter. He had close-cropped bleached hair and eyes that had seen some pretty hard times. When he’d first met Will, Kelly hired him to do odd secretarial work on the recommendation of an older friend. Since then he’d wondered if the older man wasn’t passing along a beloved pet he no longer felt up to caring for.

    Will didn’t talk much about his past, except to say that he’d survived it. The pain of that hadn’t quite left him yet. Since Will moved in Kelly had been awakened at all hours by the sound of Will’s nightmares, sometimes even sobbing, coming from the next room.

    Kelly gave the kid a squeeze and a kiss on the top of the head.

    Kelly had experienced an instant affinity for Will, whose outlandish behavior was the perfect antidote for his own inflexible personality. Will disengaged himself and started out of Kelly’s office. They’d been true friends, with benefits off and on since the beginning. Mostly Kelly encouraged Will to find friends his own age to play. Still, watching that ass swing out of the room…

    Will turned as if he knew. “Okay, if you’re not going take me up on my generous offer, I’m going to clean.” He shot Kelly a look as he left.

    “It’s not that I don’t love you.”

    “I know. But you’re old and you don’t have it in you. I understand,” Will called from the kitchen.

    “Hey.” Kelly was stung.

    “I’m kidding you. I’ll make your favorite for lunch as an apology. If you can’t resist me then, it’s okay too.”

    “I’ll keep it in mind.” Kelly shook his head and closed his office door with a snap. “Thirty-eight isn’t old,” he muttered. “I’ll give you old, you little pisher. I jogged five miles on the treadmill this morning. Old…”

    Kelly opened the first of about a hundred emails that crowded his inbox, then acknowledged the sender and kept on, answering questions, fielding mail, finding ways to keep from revealing himself when asked revealing questions. He worked in this way for about an hour, amazed, as always, that he should be the object of such speculation. Furthermore, what was most alarming, that he should have become, almost overnight, the focal point of a rapidly growing readership of interested women.

    Women.

    That was what came from writing a gay porn novel, for fun, because at Will’s urging, he’d penned a simple parody of his own novel Doorways. In it he’d transformed its confused hero into a kind of boy Collete √† L’ecole of epically energetic proportions. He’d gently satirized himself, which as far as he could tell was his own damned prerogative, and suddenly, inexplicably, he’d gotten hundreds of email responses from, of all people, women. Most of whom hadn’t the faintest idea he’d written the first book at all. Or that it even existed.

    If he’d known that this would happen, he’d never have let Will set up an email account for him. He’d been content, since computers had been invented, to confine himself solely to the word processing software that came with them. Even that had been a stretch, as he’d preferred to use a yellow legal pad and a number two pencil, sharpened to a lethal point (but only if it still had a perfectly pristine eraser).

    Kelly enjoyed getting the letters. He just had no idea what to do with people who were really complimentary, always wanting to look behind the email for a gag. Like he was being punk’d. His own insecurity notwithstanding, he was afraid that might have something to do with the nature of the book.

    Sure, he’d had fun writing it. But it was largely done as a dare with his tongue firmly between his cheeks. It was actually the best time he’d ever had writing anything, because he’d shared it with Will, his one true friend.

    The last email was…arresting. Someone named SberryFields wanted to know if he was planning to continue what she called the “Freddie Legacy”, and in the email she postulated a number of possible future titles. She was loquacious and articulate, and alarmingly chipper, and he slumped into his seat with the awful feeling that this was all his life would hold for him from that moment on.

    “Will?” Kelly shouted, only to find the very man in question a mere few inches away reading the email from behind him. Kelly put a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart. “When did you get here?”

    “Just now, when you called.” Will glanced up at him with clear blue eyes. “What’s the problem?”

    “Were you aware, when you got me into this mess, that Windows would be the most popular work of my entire career?”

    “I’m sorry, honey.” Will gazed at him with sincere sympathy. “But seriously. Have you read your other stuff?”

    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