12/25/2014

#FREE M/M Romance for the Holidays! My gift to you


Just a reminder there's only one week left to pick up your free copy of The Old Soda ShopIn the spirit of the season, I'm giving away one of my very first stories- previously published in the very first Story Orgy Anthology- 



You can get your Free copy of this sweet, sexy, tale of lovers reunited
at 




Former college roommates Matt and Sam have a history.

Will a chance encounter in the street lead to a second chance at love?

Years ago, art student Matt Gilray's world turned on its axis when his lover Sam rejected him at their favorite hangout. He's spent the years since learning to be a businessman and an artist, letting go, forgetting a love affair that brought him more pain than joy in the end.
Sam Balantyne’s last minute realization that his college fuck buddy had turned into a lover wasn’t enough to stop the headstrong business student from chasing his dreams. When his ambitions flounder, Sam returns home and buys the derelict soda shop where they used to hang out. He isn't looking for a second chance; he just wants to enjoy a memory.
In the process of “freeing himself to pursue his dreams”, has Sam tarnished them beyond recovery?


EXCERPT

Sam Balantyne trudged down the slushy sidewalk of the historic district of Greely, Colorado, gazing unseeing into the falling slush. The gray sky suited his mood. Very few people were foolish enough to be out walking in this mess. Most people had the sense to be at home or somewhere warm. Not Sam. No, thanks to his flaky, thoughtless sexy roommate, he walked down an icy street in a part of town where even bikes were frowned upon just off campus. It was safe enough not to look. No random cars would splash murky water on unwary pedestrians. No cars were permitted on the brick work streets of Old Town.
Sam knew where he was going and exactly how many steps in the icy slush it would take to get there. An hour ago, he’d been contentedly lounging on his bed, studying for midterms next week, when his flighty roommate called. He curled his hands into fists inside the deep pockets of his navy wool pea coat. Fucking Matt. Such a goddamn pie-in-the-sky dreamer. How did I end up with an art student for a roommate in the first place? Every month turned into a damn race against the clock to see if Matt would be able to pull together his share of the rent, or the cable, or whatever. Bad enough that Sam perpetually fed the man, now this.
Apparently Matt had gotten the rent money but couldn’t be bothered to come home and give it to Sam. No. Sam had to meet him at the soda shop off Fifth Street because Matt had other things to do. Ordinarily, Sam loved the soda shop. He and Matt had spent many great sunny afternoons there, sitting on the patio, guy watching and laughing, even occasionally sharing a lemon Italian Cream Soda.
The bitter cold wind cut through the thick wool of his coat, and Sam caught himself wondering if Matt had had the sense to wear a jacket when he left the apartment that morning. Probably not. The sun had been shining then, and Matt never could see beyond the moment.
Someone, possibly even Matt himself, had put a colorful knitted ski cap on the head of the old stone lion that guarded the occult book shop next door to the soda shop. The lilting notes of a sexy little jazz number drifted from the tiny bar on the other side of the soda shop. The music and the light from the window created a perfect backdrop for the vision that met Sam’s eyes when he looked up. In the golden glow from the soda shop window, he saw Matt sitting at a tiny table for two on the front patio of the shop. He wore a thin leather jacket and Sam’s navy blue wool beanie tugged down low over his ears as he sat on the tiny black iron chair. His booted feet rested on the other seat. Matt puffed on one of the little clove cigarettes he favored and cupped hands covered in fingerless gloves around the tiny source of heat. The little table in front of him held an ashtray and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate into which the slushy snow fell.
Sam shook his head. Smoking cloves was bad enough, better than tobacco scent-wise by a small margin, but who the hell sat on the patio in this freaking weather? Airheaded art majors, that was who. “God damn it, Matt! How many times have I told you to dress warmly when you leave the house? You’re going to get sick! And…” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, a ludicrous tirade that his own mother would have cringed to hear. He snatched the cigarette out of his roommate’s hand. “Smoking this shit will kill you!”
Matt turned to look at him, and Sam nearly groaned. The heavy feeling in his heart, the anger at Matt’s foolishness, seemed to melt away as he caught the expression in those bright blue eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find his own heart beating faster, stirring with desire despite the cold. He was surprised by the lilt of happiness that brightened the gray of the late winter day. Fuck. He didn’t want to feel this way, to let anyone have the ability to create sunshine in his day with a crooked little smile. Especially not Matt. Matt drifted along perfectly content, dreaming and painting and starving for his art. Sam dreamed of bigger things. He wanted success, the bright lights of a big city, and by big he didn’t mean Denver! He wanted all the luxuries life could afford. And that look in Matt’s eyes… had he always looked at him that way?
Matt removed his boots from the seat with a grimace.
“No, thanks. I’ll pass. Look. I’m going home this weekend.” He hadn’t planned to, but a weekend in Denver with his mom and dad, siblings running all over, would screw his head back on straight. “You keep the rent money. Use it to find another place to stay, okay? I can’t keep doing this every month.”
Matt protested instantly, the shock on his face heart-wrenching. “Sam, I promise. It won’t happen again. I got a job. That’s why I couldn’t come to the apartment.”
Sam shook his head, schooling his features to hide his feelings. “No. It’s just not working out for us.” But it could, his heart argued. He shut it down instantly. Not taking that chance. Better to end things now, before either of them got any more involved and while they both still had the chance to make their dreams come true.
“Sam, I love you. I don’t want to move out. Just, please, give me one more month to prove I can do this?” Matt’s voice cracked on the words he forced out. Sam couldn’t tell if tears or melting snowflakes caused the dampness on his pale cheeks.
Hardening his heart, Sam continued, “That’s just it, Matt. I don’t want to be loved. I don’t want to love anyone. I just wanted to get laid a little. I need freedom to pursue my dreams, and taking care of you, it’s a burden I don’t want. I thought it was all just fun. You’re taking things way too seriously. So, please, do us both a favor and leave before I get back Monday afternoon?” His dad would lend him the money for the rent this month.
Unable to meet those blue eyes without throwing his arms around Matt’s slim shoulders and hugging him tight, without promising that they could try again, without swearing he would never be such an ass again, Sam turned and stumbled against the stone lion, knocking the knit cap into the slush, where eddies of muddy liquid blurred its bright colors. He whirled and tromped back up the street he’d just come down, ignoring Matt calling his name behind him as he went.

12/23/2014

Book Blast : My Mate, Jack #pridepromotins #mmromance #giveaway

Book Name: My Mate, Jack

Goodreads Link: My Mate Jack

Author Name: Garrett Leigh

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: G.D. Leigh



Blurb(s):
Will Barter’s been in love with his best mate Jack for as long as he can remember. They’ve shared everything: love, life, laughs, even Will’s first kiss. But Jack’s straight, and Will’s long-buried infatuation means nothing until their last summer together draws to a close.

Then one night, everything changes, but with Will bound for university in Leeds, and Jack for his dream DJ job in Ibiza, there’s no time to explore their blurred lines. Before long all that’s left are secrets, lies, and misunderstandings.

In the months that follow, anger and hurt overshadow fifteen years of friendship, and Will must dig deep to remember Jack is his mate… his best mate, and nothing matters more than that, right?

Categories: Contemporary, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

Excerpt:
“So, are you game, or what?”
Will blinked. “Eh?”
Jack laughed. He lay back on Will’s bed and folded his arms behind
his head, all dark eyes and shaggy hair. “You’re such a dreamer. No wonder you don’t notice any blokes. I was saying we could practice kissing if you want. You know, so you’re not nervous next time the bottle lands on you.”
This time Will couldn’t stop the beer going down the wrong way. He coughed. “Next time? What are you going to do? Out me to the whole school by snogging my face off? I’d rather smooch the girls.”
“Liar.” But Jack looked sheepish all the same. “Okay, maybe we shouldn’t mess around in front of other people, but I still reckon you should try your techniques out on me. Ginny says I’m the best kisser in the whole school, and she should know.” Jack swooned and pitched into a fit of weed-fueled giggles.
Will dove at him and pushed him off the other side of the bed. “It’s not funny, arsehole. I’m the only gay in the whole bloody town. I’m going to die a virgin at this rate.”
Jack hit the floor with a thump. He lay there a moment, still laughing, then hauled himself back onto the bed. “Chill out, mate. No one said anything about bonking.”
Will tried to grin. Chill out. Yeah, right. Jack had been taking the piss since that stupid bloody bottle had put the idea of them kissing in his daft head. “You’re not funny.”
Jack sobered and stared with an expression Will couldn’t decipher. “I wasn’t joking, at least not about the kissing part. We’re friends, right? Ginny and Meg snog all the time.”
He had a point. The girls were always messing around with each other, and Will had often watched them and maligned the fact that girls had it easy... from his point of view, at least. They could do whatever they wanted and no one cared. It would be a different story if Will jumped on Jack in the middle of the park. Snogged his face off and squeezed his arse.

So why not do it here? No one will ever know.
Sales Links:

Rafflecopter Prize: E-book Copy of ‘My Mate, Jack’

Tour Dates: December 23, 2014

Tour Stops:


Author Bio:
Rainbow Award winner Garrett Leigh is a British writer and book designer, currently working for Dreamspinner Press, Loose Id, Riptide Publishing, and Black Jazz Press. Her protagonists will always always be tortured, crippled, broken, and deeply flawed. Throw in a tale of enduring true love, some stubbly facial hair, and a bunch of tattoos, and you’ve got yourself a Garrett special.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible. That, and dreaming up new ways to torture her characters. Garrett believes in happy endings; she just likes to make her boys work for it.

Garrett also works as a freelance cover artist for various publishing houses and independent authors under the pseudonym G.D. Leigh. For cover art info, please visit blackjazzpress.com
Where to find the author:

12/22/2014

Story Orgy Presents: Urbex: City Secrets Part Three #mmromance #serial #blogstory



Good morning and welcome back to Story Orgy Monday! I'm sorry to have missed last week, but I was caught up in the finishing of the Pulp Friction Finale- which by the way is now with the editor- so here today we have part three of City Secrets. Please enjoy!



Dec 22nd - His voice had never sounded so cold.
 City Secrets
Part Three

“Fuck! Shit! God damned…” Jordan wanted to die of embarrassment as his arms windmilled the air, his feet slipping and sliding on the icy ground. He was going down...in front of this pretty man with the most kissable lips he’d ever seen, he was…
Crack.
His ass hit the ground and his head slammed back soon after. Sharp pain exploded in the back of his skull. The stars overhead danced for a minute, then everything came back into focus.
“I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”
He turned his head to the side, wincing at the pain in his neck. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?” Lester looked worried, and that pleased Jordan. Made him feel good, like … like he was an idiot. He pushed himself up on his elbows, grimacing as the cold seeped through his work pants.
“Yes.” A rueful smile played with the full lips, capturing Jordan’s attention again. “I um… just landed in a bit of brush. Broke my fall. I think you hit your head on a rock or something.”
Jordan reached up to the aching spot on his head, rubbed it gently. There wasn’t a knot, but sure enough he felt the thick wetness of blood. Not a heavy flow though. “It’s no big deal, just a scratch.”
He struggled to his feet careful to avoid contact with Les who was maneuvering himself upright as well. “Are you always this…” He trailed off realizing how rude the words he’d planned would sound.
“Clumsy?” Les had reached his feet, and stood about a yard away from Jordan. He seemed a little twitchy, as though he wanted to reach out and help Jordan, but wasn’t sure his assistance would be welcomed. “Believe it or not, no. I am ordinarily quite graceful. All those cotillions and ballroom dance lessons, I suppose.”
Jordan finally managed to get secure on his feet and took a minute to process that. Ballroom dance? Cotillion? He glanced at the Audi again. It was a pricey piece of machinery, and if the clothes Les wore were as costly as the car he drove...or the camera he cradled in his arms like a baby, then yeah. Lester Bergman, gay or straight, was way out of his league. “I’ll take your word for it, but I think it’s best if you...keep your distance, for both of us.” Mostly he meant that warning for himself, but he saw how it affected Les, and felt a little guilty. Unavoidable.
“I was going to see if I could buy you a cup of coffee, to thank you for your trouble.” Les ducked his head, tucked the camera under one arm and brushed at the snow on his pants with the other.
He’d hurt Les’s feelings, clearly, but Jordan couldn’t worry about that. He hardened his heart. He had to look out for himself, and protect his own… fuck. He was attracted to Les, more than he should be for such a short meeting, more than a lust for the body he couldn’t quite make out beneath the winter clothes. What was it about Lester Bergman that made his heart and mind retreat? Because even as he couldn't’ tear his gaze away from Les’s full red lips, creamy pale cheeks and bright blue eyes, barriers were slamming into place and warning bells were going off.
Lester Bergman was dangerous to him.
Dangerous with a capital D. And not just because he was clumsy.
“Fuck.” He whispered it, but knew Les heard. “I’m on my way home. It’s been a real long shift. And the only place for coffee is back the way I came from.” Or you could invite him to your place for coffee.
“To be honest, I’m quite concerned about that head injury.” Les straightened, looked him square in the eye again.
Jordan felt it like a punch to the gut. Lust seared through him… Powerful, consuming. And Les felt it too. He drew in a sharp breath, hoping the painfully cold air would counteract the sudden rise of heat in his body. “It’s nothing.”
“You could have a concussion.” Les pointed out. “I’m a lawyer. And...well, legally, I’d be responsible if anything happened to you.”
Snorting, Jordan stared at the smaller man. “You expect me to believe that you’re afraid I’m going to sue you? For a little knock on the head in the course of doing my job? I have insurance if there’s any problems.”
“But you’re not going to the doctor, are you? You could go home, go to bed and just not wake up.”
Jordan took a cautious step forward. “I don’t have a concussion.”
“You might.”
Stubborn. The man had seemed mildly timid, pretty and ineffective. Jordan hadn't known what to think when the lights in the field turned out to be this handsome stranger instead of the kids he’d fully expected to find.
 “Possible, but not likely. This isn’t the first knock on the head I’ve taken. I’m fine.” Jordan gestured to the parked cars, trying to hurry the man along. His ass was uncomfortably wet and cold, and even so all he wanted was an equally cold shower.
“Okay. Can I be honest?” Les’s head tipped to the side, and he peeked up at Jordan through thick lashes, a sultry, sexy maneuver that seemed completely innocent, unless you counted the glow of heat in the depths of his blue eyes that spoke of knowledge and primal urges.
“That implies that you haven’t been so far.” His voice had never sounded so cold. He noted, narrowing his eyes and swiftly re-examining the stranger, looking for some signs… drug paraphernalia? Maybe he was out here meeting someone for a buy? Had Jordan been played? Of course there was no truly innocent reason for a man from the city to be out here in a field in the middle of winter, was there? Maybe he’d been burying a body. And maybe you’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds.
“Oh… No. I mean yes. I have been, mostly.” Les heaved a breath so deep that his jacket expanded and shrank visibly. “I’m going to get in that car and drive home, and even though home is only thirty minutes from here, I have a feeling we’re not ever going to meet again, and…”
At that moment, desire outstripped restraint. “And that would be a terrible thing, wouldn’t it?” He could do one night. Take Les home to his house, pour them both a beer...or coffee...let the impulses he’d been stifling take control. One night, because as Les had said, their paths weren’t ever likely to cross again after that. He was getting a little too old for the one night stands, but living out here made boyfriends and relationships challenging.
“It would.” Les nodded.
“I have coffee at my place, and its only a few miles up this road. Follow me, and I’ll make you a cup.” His voice grew deeper, huskier, as images played out in his head of just how they could spend the rest of the night. He didn’t quite like the way it made him feel about himself...like an opportunist taking sex where he could...but Jordan had a feeling...a shy, slinky, not quite out in the open ready to be analyzed feeling, that with Les he’d regret not taking what the man was so clearly offering.
Licking his lips, Les agreed. “I’ll follow you.”
Jordan waited while Les climbed into the Audi, which had been purring with the quiet elegance of an expensive engine in the background all through their talk. Once Les was safely behind the wheel of his car, Jordan turned back to the 4 wheel drive SUV he drove.
This is a bad idea. He climbed inside, buckled his seatbelt and waved to Les in the rear view mirror.
Since when is getting laid a bad idea? He turned the key and the engine roared to life. The cd player blared, filling the chilly interior of the vehicle with the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Under the Bridge. Lonely as I am. His gut clenched, the warmth of arousal faded.
Lonely. Was that why Les was so irresistible? Was Jordan so lonely that a stranger’s touch, a few hours in a stranger’s arms, were worth risking himself?
Risking what? What was he risking? More loneliness? Heartache when there wasn’t any morning after? No call back? No further contact?
“No expectations.” He said fiercely, shutting off the cd player and letting silence clear the air, and his mind before he backed up, turned the SUV around and headed back to the highway. “There won’t be any heartache, because this is all there is going to be, and I know that, and he knows that.
Just sex.
“It’s just sex with a hot stranger. Nothing you haven’t done a hundred times before.” He muttered as he entered the highway, glancing in the rearview again to see Les’s headlights, right there, following.
The sight didn’t warrant the relief he felt. A hundred was an exaggeration. He’d been having sex… in some way shape or form… since he was sixteen, and even if he counted college, he’d fall far short of that number. A half a dozen boyfriends, in twelve years wasn’t that many. And the one night stands… well they lacked something that his spirit craved, so he hardly ever indulged unless he really needed the release.
A hundred? He’d pulled the number from thin air with a desperate need to make this feel right. And failed.
His house appeared on the left a lot sooner than he was ready for, and he swung into the drive, pulling all the way forward so that Les could park in the cleared section of the driveway. Briefly, he contemplated driving on… over the field behind his house to the county road it butted up against on the other side, leaving Les behind. Not like the Audi could handle that off-road terrain. Instead, he pulled himself together. One night. Deal with the fall out in the morning.
So he pasted on a smile, and knew as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle and bumped into Les in the drive that focusing on the physical and ignoring the strange emotional chaos wasn’t going to be a problem.

His feet had barely found the ground before les was there, in front of him, face tipped up as though inviting a kiss. Jordan firmly shut out his turmoil and took the offered lips, moaning softly as the heat exploded from that simple touch of lip to lip. Yes… no problem until morning.



TO BE CONTINUED 

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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