Crawling Into Bed With A.J. Llewellyn
And a Good Book
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton. I would slip and slide on satin sheets. I have enough trouble staying in bed as it is. You wouldn't think cats take up much room, but they do. Sometimes I wake up clinging to the edge of my mattress and they are sprawled out...livin' large!
If I had satin sheets I'd be a human torpedo!
*chuckles* Try sleeping with a Great Dane and a cat and a moderately sized man. What are you wearing?
Um, a black T-shirt and undies.
And is that a good look on you ! *blushes* Oops. Sorry. Back on topic. Didn't mean to sound like a bad pick up artist. What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Carrot sticks. Heh heh heh…had you fooled, huh? I don't usually eat in bed. I am neurotic about my teeth, but for you I'll make an exception. We're eating Violet Crumbles, the sexiest candy bars in the world!
Oh my, I don't think I've ever had or heard of those! *runs off toGoogle* Okay…chocolate is good. Thank you! If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Two Archie comics (I love Betty and Veronica double digests and I adore Jughead), books on meditation, a vibrator, ooops, I mean, a prayer book, and matches. I burn a lot of candles.
*eye roll* Please. Like I haven't seen one of those before! Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
No, but you just gave my cats some cool ideas…
Hah. They've been thinking about it all along, I assure you. In fact, you're probably lucky if that's all they've been plotting. *glances at cats* Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Of course you can, if I get to see you naked!
*blinks* Naked is a reciprocal thing. What are we reading?
We are reading one of my books. It's called Back to Black and it's a fun, sexy, romantic, erotic murder mystery set in Hawaii. I enjoy reading my own books. Do you read your own books, Lee?
Well, I sometimes get lost in the stories while I'm supposed to be editing, does that count?
Anyway, I loved writing this book! The hero, Quinn Novak, is a Honolulu Police Department detective who lives on Don Ho Street (yes, there really is a Don Ho Street) and his love life is about to take a paranormal turn. This is the first in my new series, Makaha Beach Detectives.
Honolulu detective Quinn Novak has to enter another realm to find scorching-hot sex. How far does he have to travel to find true love?
Quinn Novak is a Honolulu Police Department detective working an unusual case. A string of robberies have taken place in homes tented for termites in the economically depressed town of Makaha Beach. A gang of thieves appears to be trailing pest control units then breaking in, so Quinn is assigned to watch over a particularly important dignitary's home late one night. Quinn has a problem, however. He's afraid of the dark.
He's never told a soul and seems to be coping with his phobia until he spies two men breaking in and follows them, despite of the dangers of the pesticide--and the dark.
Once inside the house, he appears to enter another realm--one filled with hot men who want… him. Quinn has the most incredible threesome of his life, but then must leave the house. How the heck does he get back in? And can he? Now, suddenly, he wants to get back to black… back to the dark and the two men he left inside the house. Can he ever find them again?
"I don't think there's a single clean cup here," I told my partner, as I rifled through a motley collection in the makeshift kitchen of the Waianae Police stationhouse. "They're all pretty disgusting. I wouldn't put my lips on those. You might catch something."
Jackie gave me a withering look. "You know... I really don't give a fuck, Quinn," she said.
That shocked me. Jackie Howe was usually the sunniest person I knew. She poured herself a cup. To be honest, the coffee smelled pretty good. I was about to change my mind and gamble with my gastrointestinal health when she nudged me.
"Grab us a couple of seats. I'll see if I can scare us up a donut or two."
I did as I was told. The briefing room was filling up and I was lucky to put my hands on a pair of comfy-looking swivel chairs. Almost everybody else had plastic lawn chairs. I nodded at a few of the faces I knew and stifled a yawn. We'd come off the night shift on our usual beat, District One in Honolulu. I'd caught a few hours' sleep. I wasn't sure about Jackie. She seemed miserable. She joined me a few moments later. It was hard to tell if her mournful expression was due to the lack of carbohydrates or something more serious. I had a feeling it was the latter and I felt bad for not noticing sooner than this morning.
"You okay?" I asked her, touching her elbow. She dipped her head, turning her face from me.
"Attention, ladies!" The loo's voice boomed over our chatter. All conversation stopped. He sure knew how to get a roomful of cops, half-asleep, mostly macho guys at that, to shut the fuck up.
We were all curious, all wondering why we'd received emergency text messages at five am, demanding our presence at Waianae Police Station at seven.
I leaned forward in my seat and caught a whiff of hazelnut-flavored coffee as Jackie took a long slug of the hot liquid steaming up from a mug bearing the words, I'd Rather be Kayaking.
I knew I would.
Dang. I'd passed on the opportunity for coffee and now I needed a java fix. To cap off my grumpiness, Jackie seemed to be symptom-free and enjoying her brew. Maybe disease would hit later. I felt bad for even thinking that way. Poor Jackie was having a rough time of things lately. She'd been sullen and uncommunicative. Actually, I realized in that moment that something really was wrong. Normally, she drove me barking mad with her non-stop monologues.
Lieutenant Kalika flicked a switch and the room went dark. It was a damned good thing, because it hid all the filth. This was the dirtiest stationhouse I'd ever walked into. In fact, the whole building had looked grungy when Jackie and I had rolled up a few minutes before seven as directed. Trash overflowed from a garbage bin out front. The building was a long, flat dun-colored thing that could have used a fresh coat of paint.
It hadn't escaped my attention that a crumpled banner for a community pride event lay, tossed aside, outside the front door. It was now seven fifteen and I noticed we were crowded into the briefing room with a cross-section of cops who, like us, didn't belong on the leeward side of the island.
I tried to focus on what the loo was saying, but my gaze had fixed itself out of the window on the exterior of the police station. Waianae was a tough neighborhood. I watched a kid getting beat up by two others right outside the station with another kid recording it all on his cell phone.
"Am I boring you, Novak?" the loo asked.
Yes. "No, sir. I was just wondering if we shouldn't intervene in the beat-down going on out front."
All eyes turned and the lieutenant muttered something before marching out of the room. We all sat in the near-dark and I felt grateful for all the bodies around me. I have a pathological fear of the dark I have never confessed to anybody.
Breathe in, breathe out.
A couple of uniformed officers rushed outside and like I said, Waianae is one tough place, because even in police presence, the two bigger kids kept unloading on the smaller one. He fought back, surprisingly. The kid recording it all suddenly took off. The cops reached under the pile of legs and arms and retrieved the smaller guy, who'd done a pretty good job of defending himself in the melee.
We were all silent, watching the pitiful scene outside.
"You okay?" one of the officers asked the victim, whose mouth and nose bled. I could hear his voice faintly. The kid said, "Yes," but he seemed devastated. He walked off. Only when his back was turned on the others but facing us in the briefing room did we see his face collapse in grief.
You can find it here:
Thank you so much for this opportunity, Lee!
A.J. Llewellyn is an author whose obsession with myth, magic, love and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.'s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. AJ has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste-test every cup cake in the universe to produce over 130 published gay erotic romance novels.
A.J. wants you to read them all.
You can find this author lurking on Facebook and Twitter - part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.'s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Diner Dash.
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