Sweet Free Read For January: Because You're You #mmromance #free #giveaway #allromanceebooks

Starting the New Year Off Right! 

This month I'm offering readers the opportunity to download 

Free from All Romance Ebooks. 


Early 2011, it all began with a letter and a picture in the Goodreads M/M Romance Group.

Dear Author,
My marriage ended badly but I have no regrets as I now have a wonderful son. I wonder what's next for me, though, and if I'll ever find true love?
A Reader

And from those two sentences a story was born. 

This is that story. 

Devyn Strake's tattoos and piercings are sexy as hell, but what really attracts Sully Moore's attention is his new neighbor's tender care of his infant son.

Devyn shouldn't let his attraction for his handsome neighbor distract him. He's in trouble, and he has to make baby Kail his chief priority.

How does a good cop find love with a bad boy in trouble?

**Please note: This is a newly edited version of a previously released short story.

Furious, Devyn Starke stalked up the overgrown path to Kayla’s apartment. It was his weekend to have Kail. Devyn was stuck with this stupid visitation agreement, Wednesday nights and every other weekend, alternate holidays. He should have had full custody, but instead, the judge had decreed that a boy of eight months needed his mother more than his father. Bullshit. Kail needed him as much as he needed Kail.
2C. He hadn’t been here before, but, surely Kayla could afford better on the amount of child support and spousal support he’d been required to pay?
He knocked politely on the door, a sharp rap. A noise from inside drifted through an open screen window. It only took a moment to recognize the sound as the pathetic cries of a baby. He pounded his fists on the grubby door, calling out, “Kayla! It’s Devyn. I came to get Kail for the weekend.” There was no response, no sound from within but the continued cries. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Kayla had claimed he’d threatened her, asked the judge for a restraining order. The judge had eyed him up and down, noting every piercing and tattoo, and the order had been granted. His expensive lawyer and his dad by his side in his Armani suit had counted for nothing. He looked like a thug, therefore, he was a thug.
Then again, Kayla was supposed to bring Kail to him for his visits at a prearranged public place. He’d waited at the McDonald’s for over an hour past the time they were to be there. When he couldn’t reach Kayla on her cell phone, he’d given in to the anger and headed over here. She could have all the money he could get his hands on, but Kayla wasn’t keeping him from his son anymore.
He could hear Kail’s frantic cries from inside the apartment, but other than that, there was no sign of anyone being home. It was his weekend to have Kail, and Kayla was fucking nuts if she thought she was going to get away with not bringing him to the meeting place again. Restraining order be thrice-damned.
Pain ripped through him as his son’s cries grew louder on the other side of that door. He looked around frantically. Either Kayla had gotten a lot more tolerant than she used to be or she wasn’t in there. If she was, she was passed out. He had to get to Kail. The manager’s office had an out to lunch sign on the door. No help from that quarter. No one else seemed to care about the noise he made or the noise his son made.
Devyn bent forward to peer in the window, hoping to catch sight of Kayla or Kail through the window. He couldn’t see Kayla, but he saw Kail right away. The little boy stood clutching grimly at the bars of the playpen, screaming and crying, face red with exertion. Tears had etched shiny tracks down his face, and he was nude except for a bulky-looking diaper.
Desperate to get to Kail, he pulled from his pocket the Swiss Army knife his dad had given him for his fourteenth birthday. The window to the left of the door was raised just a bit. Kneeling down, he used the sharp blade of the knife to cut the screen away from the frame. Peeling the screen back he raised the window, talking as soothingly as he could to Kail. “Daddy’s coming, big boy. No need to cry. Daddy’s here.”
When Kail turned to the window and caught sight of his daddy climbing through, his shrieks subsided to sobs. The tear-drenched dark eyes ripped another hole in Devyn’s heart. Fuck. He landed on the floor under the window, knocking a withered plant over on the way down.
Without Kail’s cries, the apartment was eerily silent. Kayla wasn’t here. Devyn rose shakily and hurried to the playpen. Kail reached out to grab him, striving to climb out on his own. “Shh…I got you.” He pulled the squirming little body close, grimacing as hot liquid seeped through the soggy diaper and wet his own T-shirt. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of piss. Poor tyke hadn’t been changed in a while.
He searched the dingy room for diapers and wipes, relieved to find them and a diaper bag on the floor by the battered sofa.
On the way over to the sofa, the sticky tapes on the side of the current diaper caved to pressure and it fell off to land with a sickening plop on the floor. He left it there. Bitch could clean it up when she got back. He set Kail down on the sofa, and held him in place with one hand while he knelt next to the sofa. He patted blindly with one hand, reaching for the wipes and a diaper.
A sudden sharp prick of pain in his finger and he glanced down in disbelief. No freaking way. The thin glint of metal caught his eye. Way. A needle. His gaze zoomed to the grungy coffee table and took in the other paraphernalia there. Shit. Fuck it. He whipped his T-shirt off over his head and wrapped it around his son. Fuck this shit.
Grabbing the diaper bag, he hoisted Kail into his arms and headed for the door. He clutched his little man to him with one arm, heart aching at the baby’s desperate grip on his neck, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. A few quick zoomed in shots of the drug stuff, a few wide angle shots of the whole room, and he was on his way. If Kayla walked through the entry while he was on his way out, he’d mow the bitch down.
Bad enough to leave the little man alone in the apartment for god knows how long, but to be using again?

He slammed the door on his way out, not caring who saw him as he cuddled his son in his arms and headed to his car. He fumbled his cell phone and hit speed dial. “Dad? I’m coming over. Bringing Kail. We need to talk. Call the lawyer.”


New! First Time in Paperback: The Park at Sunrise #mmromance #sexy #smellthepages

The Park at Sunrise
 by Lee Brazil

Now in Paperback

Limited # of Autographed copies can be purchased direct from author for the low price of $6.00
(includes shipping and handling)     

Also available through Amazon and Createspace for 7.99 plus shipping and handling. 

First they were three, now there are two. Can Jason and Morgan make a relationship work without Paul? 

For years the three of them had been inseparable, first as friends, then lovers. It's been ten years since they parted for what was supposed to be a year apart to pursue their dreams. This isn't the reunion they planned then. It's nine years too late for one thing, and they are one man short for another.

In the years since Paul's death, Morgan hasn't exactly been waiting for Jason to reach out to him. He's been too busy trying to forget, to move on. Until Jason sends the right message. Is the painting just an excuse to see his ex again?

The park at sunrise. How many nights had we ended up here? Coffee from the all-night truck stop in Jamestown in hand, steam rising as we walked, searching for that most exclusive private spot where we could see but not be seen. The bench that was sheltered by just the right number of trees, with the best view of the pond and the flagpoles and the sunrise.

Nights of parties, concerts, hanging out, or working had all ended in this spot. When the fun was done, we sobered up as the sun rose here. When we were exhausted from working those double shifts and pulling all-nighters, the sunrise reminded us why we worked so hard. When we were flying high on concert-induced endorphins, it spun wild dreams in our heads that spilled from our mouths in raucous harmony. The three of us, wrapped in one blanket, sipping from one bottle, from one cup, contemplated that sunrise. In snow and rain and heat and cold we huddled here. For four years, this place colored our lives in ways we couldn't imagine.

The bench we'd claimed as ours drew me onward. My feet recognized the path, if my mind did not. In the inside pocket of my too-thin-for-the-Colorado-cold-but just-right-for-California black leather jacket, the crinkle of paper jabbed at my soul. As much as anything else, it was why I was here.
When I found it, the bench was still the same with its old, wrought-iron rails and splintery wooden slats. I stopped. Progressing from here would be harder. The cold seeped through the inadequate leather soles of my knee-high black boots, chilling my feet. Once I'd known how to dress for the cold. Once cold hadn't mattered. I'd had their warmth to keep me warm. For years I'd had a vision, locked in my head. This bench, this park, the sun rising in the background. The first flakes of falling snow drifting down. On the bench, two men whose heads turned as I approached, who jumped to their feet with open arms and welcoming smiles. The first time we met here, the last time we met here.
Today, I had a memory. A sunrise that would start soon. I forced myself forward, placed one booted foot on the seat and hoisted myself into the familiar position, buttocks perched on the topmost slat of the bench. Splinters prickled against the seat of my 501s, but the first changing light as the sun made its appearance caught my gaze. Since the last time I'd sat here, the last time we'd been together, I hadn't sat through many sunrises. I'd observed a lot of sunsets on the Pacific coast, but the sunrise had become a time of regret.

As I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and prop my chin in my hands, the crinkle of the envelope in my pocket and the crunch of dead leaves on the grass behind me competed for my attention. I drew the envelope from my inner pocket as the footsteps approached. I knew who it was. Had realized he would be here, though how he had known I would be was anyone's guess. It appeared to me that I hardly knew what I was doing, catching that plane, leaving behind friends and commitments. Me. Mr. Responsible. Reliable. Dependable. Had I even called in and told the principal I wouldn't be there for the last week of classes? I couldn't recall. He'd figure it out when the Calc I kids showed up for the key to the classroom, no doubt.

The sudden drag of a wool cap being tugged down over my long hair startled me. It shouldn't have. I should have predicted he'd be in this "taking care of Morgan" mode. At twenty two it had been endearing; at thirty two it pissed me off. Deep, calming breaths kept the anger manageable. Come here, do what needed to be done, get on the next plane back to California, back to emotional stability.
"I see you're dressed for the weather as always, Morgan." Jason's voice was husky, hesitant.
A pair of black knit gloves landing in my lap tipped me over that edge from making a snide remark to throwing an uncalled-for hissy fit.

My jaw clenched tightly. Screw breathing deeply. I yanked the cap from my head, pulling long strands of black hair from the band at my neck, and winced at the tiny pain. I flung the cap to the ground in front of us and looked up the black denim-clad legs to the black pea coat and beyond. My mouth opened to swear, but no sound came out. The hissy fit drained away to something else entirely. My pulse still raced, but for an entirely different reason.

How fair was that? How fucking fair was it that after ten years apart, my hair showed silvery streaks and my face showed my age, but Jason was still the slender, boyish youth of years gone by? Yeah, he'd shaved the dirty blond dreadlocks. Those wire-rim glasses were new, but he appeared as youthful and vibrant, untouched by life, alive as he had when we'd all parted years ago to make those sunrise dreams reality. His black jeans had the telltale smudges of paint, and I'd be willing to bet that underneath those leather driving gloves lurked more paint.

This wasn't the reunion we planned then. It was nine years too late, for one thing. We were one man short, for another.

The bench creaked as he perched next to me on the top slat, and instinctively I grabbed his knee to anchor both of us so we wouldn't topple backward. His hand covered mine before I could jerk it away, and he refused to relinquish it when I tugged. I gave in with ill grace. Jason’s touch stirred physical responses that I’d rather not experience.

"I sent you an invitation to my gallery opening last year."

"I got it."

"You couldn't make it." No judgment. Levelheaded, easygoing, that was Jason. I didn't even understand how he knew to send the damn invitation to the school in the first place. For all I knew, he still lived with his parents and painted in that fucking unheated studio over their garage.

I handed him the envelope. The envelope that had brought me here, as he had known it would, when nothing else could. "I want to buy it."

He shook his head. "It's not for sale. That's not why I sent it to you."

Heat pooled at the back of my neck, and the tiny, irritating noise of my own teeth grinding warned of a potential headache in the offing. I turned, made eye contact for the first time. "Then why? Why send it? Fuck, why paint it? How the hell could you even stand to paint that picture? It kills me that you could have done that, like it doesn't mean fucking anything to you." By the time I spit out the last words, my voice had risen enough to scare off the waterfowl in the pond.

The expression on his face was one I'd never noticed before. I thought I had all their expressions memorized, his and Paul's. Oh, Christ. "Paul." The name slipped out, the memories in. I dropped my head to my knees again, breaking eye contact. I had to create mental distance since physical wasn't possible. I was empty, raw. My stomach tightened and my eyes burned.

"Morgan, it means everything to me. It's all I have. That painting, it's the heart and soul of who I am, who you are, who Paul was." The hand clutching mine drew away, and I nearly protested as cold took its place. Then I felt him fussing. I rolled my eyes as he loosened the band from my hair and combed his fingers through it before gathering it back into a neater ponytail, smoothing the hairs pulled loose by the wool cap. It felt too good to be cared for like that again. I jerked upright and away.

"Damn it, Jason, I don't want to go there. We can't recapture the past! You are not my mother. You are not Paul." I narrowed my eyes and gave him the look that intimidated school board members and recalcitrant football players alike. "Why did you send it if you won't sell me the painting?"

"Were you here? May twenty-sixth, two thousand one? Because I was."

I stared at him. My anger was fading, heart rate returning to normal. The heat from earlier was replaced by a chill that had nothing to do with the low temperature. Surely he was kidding. "Why? Why did you bother? Paul was dead by then. You had to know I wouldn't come."

"No, I didn't. See, somehow, I never thought it was all about you and Paul. Somehow, I thought it was all about you, me, and Paul. I guess I naively believed that without Paul, you and I would need each other even more."

I couldn't speak, but the shock must have shown on my face. With an impatient sigh, Jason jumped from the bench. I automatically steadied myself, swaying slightly as the bench protested the sudden movement.

He tossed the photo from the envelope into my lap. "I have it crated and ready to ship. Pick it up at my parents' house any time. I won't be there."

I didn't look up. I didn't speak. I listened to his footsteps, muffled now by the snow that had fallen on the crunching leaves. As the colors changed and faded from the morning sky, I stared at the photo of the painting that had brought me here. Three men on a bench in a park at sunrise, three heads pressed together, three hands clasped. If one of the images was a little blurry, I couldn't tell if that was the artist's intent, the tears in my eyes, or the snow that fell on the photo.

ISBN-13: 978-1505678796
ISBN-10: 150567879X
Also available through Amazon and Createspace

Friday Five: Books, Music...All the Good Things in Life #authorshavelives? #rockon

Spent yesterday writing to the rocking rhythms of one of the 80's Ladies of rock...

Joan Jett. 

I wanted her hair. 

But she said all the things I wanted to say to my first boyfriend...only better. 

So my Five Favorite Joan Jett songs?

Crimson and Clover 

Bad Reputation

Hate Myself for Loving You

I Love Rock n Roll

You Don't Know What You've Got 

Top Five Books on my TBR this week?

The Half of Us - Cardeno C 

Deuce Coop 2 - Laura Harner 
(Yeah- you won't find this one out for a few months, but ooh whee it is hot!)

Pitch - Will/Parker
( I forget what he wrote the book under) 

Candy Man - Amy Lane 

Heaven Sent - Jet Mykles 
(Yes. I read it already. But it is SO worth the reread!)

And now... Five lines from my current WIP: Syracuse (Centurion #3)

His hands stroked over Sal as they would a lover, sensual and pleasing, promising passion to follow.
Sal nearly purred under the soothing touches as they massaged his sore muscles, bringing relief to cramping thighs and calves strained from the hours of unaccustomed walking. Such tender care he had never known, not since he'd left his mother's side.
Life as the centurion's catamite… even if he was no equal but a slave, would have its compensations. His lonely home had not fed these needs, soothed these wants the way the centurion's touch did.


Happy New Year! "Just Because the Sun is Shining" #giveaway #mmromance #are

Attention everyone! *blushes* Just wanted to let you all know that I have managed to get rafflecopter to choose the giveaway winner. HB is the winner of a $10 ARE gift card. I've sent you an email, H.B.! 
Thanks to everyone else who stopped by and participated! 

Happy New Year Friends! In honor of the year, I'm going to do a "Just Because the Sun Is Shining Giveaway" this weekend. *
(In all fairness, contest will run from Jan. 2 to Jan. 9 to give all interested parties time to enter)

“Not knowing when the dawn will come
I open every door.” 
― Emily Dickinson

PRIZE: $10 All Romance Gift Card 

Remember, there are three ways to enter! 

Cover Reveal: The Adventures of Cole and Perry by Amanda C Stone #mmromance #giveaway

The Adventures of Cole and Perry

 Amanda C. Stone

Release Date: Mid-January

It all started when Cole met Perry in a bar. Over three years they had some exciting adventures, and misadventures. The six stories included in this book are all about their journey from bar to wedding.
The Anniversary
Another cancellation of plans by his boyfriend forces Cole out to the neighborhood bar. Not long after arriving he meets Perry. Even as exciting as Perry is, he's unsure how the night will end.

The Fight
Cole and Perry are struggling to make time for each other and constantly at each other’s throats. A fight to the death will decide who is right or wrong in their arguments. But Cole really doesn't want to shoot Perry.

The Threesome
Deciding they want to spice up things in the bedroom, Perry wants to have a one-time threesome. Cole's nervous and doesn't want to ask any of their friends to join them. Perry finds the perfect solution.

The House
After two and a half years together, Cole and Perry want to buy a house. Once they find the perfect house, they get to spend their first morning together in their new space. Perry will have to help Cole decide which room is his favorite.

The Baby
Both Cole and Perry are exhausted. Taking care of a three month old is hard when she's up all night and is always hungry. If only they could find where they put the bottle warmer.

The Wedding
Cole is ready to make his commitment to Perry life-long. After careful planning, they created the perfect event. What could possibly go wrong? If only Cole didn't ask the same question.

“Cole. I have a surprise for you. I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”
Cole looked up from his magazine at the doorway Perry’s voice drifted in from. He put the magazine on his nightstand and closed his eyes.
“They’re closed,” he called out. He wasn’t sure where Perry was in their apartment, but he sounded close.
Rustling and a strange squeaking noise reached his ears. Cole furrowed his brows trying to figure out what Perry was up to and what he was hearing.
“Okay. Go ahead and open your eyes.”
Cole popped his eyes open. He closed them and then re-opened them again. Nope, he still was seeing what was in front of him.
“Perry. Why is there--?”
Perry cut him off before Cole could finish his thought.
“So, we had talked about fantasies and things like that. I told you this was mine. So I’d like to introduce you to Freddy. Freddy, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Cole.”
Cole smiled at how nervous Perry was. His boyfriend was adorable trying to be brave with his ideas.
“Nice to meet you, um, Freddy. Perry, where did you meet Freddy?”
Perry had a small smile on his face that showed Cole he appreciated he was alright with what was happening.
“Online. I found Freddy on some website. Can’t remember the name now.”

Cole was stunned. His boyfriend didn’t go to those types of websites for any reason. Just meant Perry wanted to have the threesome and was willing to do it without asking one of their friends. Cole was so happy Perry had found a way to have his fantasy.

Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy upon publication

Random Facts About Amanda

Favorite type of dessert?
Any of them as long as they’re sweet.

What’s the most embarrassing gift you ever received?

Wedding night attire. Which doesn’t sound embarrassing until you learn that it was gifted by my MOM! How many shades of red can one face get? Too many to count.

Find out more of Amanda's deepest, darkest secrets, strangest quirks...or random weirdness. Follow the tour.
Tour Dates: January 1, 2015

Author Name: Amanda C. Stone
Author Bio:
Armed with her Batman notebook, fourth grade Amanda C. Stone was ready to start writing stories about unicorns, family members, and her imaginary friends Pink Amanda and Blue Amanda. Today, Amanda is armed with a new notebook, along with a laptop, and a never ending supply of caffeine. Her stories are about all kinds of things, but the most important aspect is people falling in love.

Where to find the author:


Last Chance! Get your copy today! #mmromance #free #erotic

Today is your last day to pick up a 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

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