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 

Because You're You

Free from All Romance Ebooks. 

ABOUT THE BOOK:

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?
Sincerely,
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.
EXCERPT

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?

EXCERPT

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 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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

Blurb(s):

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.

Excerpt:

“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.

BUY LINK: 

Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy upon publication

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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

 

Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Bayou Book Junkie, The Hat Party, Love Bytes, Velvet Panic, Inked Rainbow Reads, 3 Chicks After Dark, Decadent Delights, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, Molly Lolly, BFD Book Blog, Amanda C. Stone, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Charley Descoteaux, Hearts on Fire, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews, Fallen Angel Reviews, My Fiction Nook, The Fuzzy, Fluffy World of Chris T. Kat, MM Good Book Reviews, Dawn’s Reading Nook, Elisa - My Reviews and Ramblings, Christy Loves To Read, Cate Ashwood

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:

Website: http://www.amandastonebooks.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amandastonebooks
Twitter: https://twitter.com/amandastonebks
Newsletter Signup: http://eepurl.com/ZF60L
Email: amandastonebooks@gmail.com

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

Today is your last day to pick up a free copy of The Old Soda Shop! In the spirit of the season, I'm giving away one of my very first stories- previously published in the very first Story Orgy Anthology- 

The Old Soda Shop

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

at 

All Romance eBooks  from now until December 31, 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 Shop! In the spirit of the season, I'm giving away one of my very first stories- previously published in the very first Story Orgy Anthology- 

The Old Soda Shop

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

at 

All Romance eBooks  from now until December 31, 2014

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.

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:

http://www.amazon.com/Mate-Jack-Heated-Beat-Book-ebook/dp/B00Q5HFTQM/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1418588435&sr=8-4&keywords=garrett+leigh

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5781

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

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Dates: December 23, 2014

Tour Stops:

Christy Loves To Read
Cate Ashwood

Parker Williams, Velvet Panic, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Bayou Book Junkie, Love Bytes, EE Montgomery, 3 Chicks After Dark, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Molly Lolly, BFD Book Blog, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, Carly’s Book Reviews, Charley Descoteaux, Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews, Sinfully Sexy, Fallen Angel Reviews, Dawn’s Reading Nook, MM Good Book Reviews, Up All Night, Read All Day, Elisa - My Reviews and Ramblings  

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:

https://www.facebook.com/garrettleighbooks

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Garrett-Leigh/484336074987986

https://twitter.com/Garrett_Leigh

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 

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS