New: Blurb for The Man Trap

The Man Trap

by 

Lee Brazil 

coming June 1 

m/m contemporary romance 

from Breathless Press 

BLURB

Simon Harris has proclaimed his bisexuality loudly since college, despite never having dated a man. While his family and friends laugh, he knows the truth: there is one man he's always been attracted to. Once, fear kept him from acknowledging that attraction. No more. The next time he finds himself wanting to kiss a guy, he's going for it.

Alexi Manetas has never gotten over his schoolboy crush on Simon. When Simon graduated, Alexi moved on. He may not have pined for Simon, but he never forgot, and  always, lurking at the back of his mind, buried deep in his heart there's been Simon and the hope that they would meet again.

A little help from an old lover and a busybody sister-in-law brings Alexi and Simon together, but Simon's fears might still tear them apart

Welcome Guest Sue Brown

I’m sitting on my sofa humming along to Hawaii Five-O.  Next to me the doggy is snoring. The kids are in bed. And I’m rambling because I have to discuss whether men can write romance.

Yes.

There we go.

Of course men can blinking well write romance. Are you insane?

Okay, well, what am I going to write for the next 450 words?

Look, if you know me at all you’ll know that I get really cheesed off when people say you can’t do something because of your gender.  Women can’t serve on the frontline, men can’t be nannies, women can’t write m/m, and men can’t write romance. It’s all tosh. Gender discrimination works both ways and it’s just as wrong whichever way it is applied.

Have you ever read something so beautiful that your heart feels like it’s been torn in two? No wait, that sounds wrong. It doesn’t sound romantic. But it was poetry to my soul. I wish I could have written it but my soul is not that romantic.

“I looked through your eyes with you, Dustin. Tried, from my

perpendicular perspective, to capture the same images you caught.

And I wondered as I looked with you, could I see from your

perspective? Could I abandon the passion that you have and still

nourish myself on the pain of that forfeiture? Could I hold my fear as

the highest of my emotions and line all others up behind it?

I could not, and when I realized that, you were gone. The cup

half empty, the croissant broken but otherwise untouched. Only the

motes showed me the trail of your passage.

And yet, here I am, still so desperately in love with you.”

I read this last night, from Listening to Dust by Brandon Shire. It is the most beautiful poetic love story. A traditional m/m romance, heck no, much more than that.

Do you think that men can’t write romance? They’ve been doing it a while.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; 
But thy eternal summer shall not fade 
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; 
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, 
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” (Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day)

Do you still think men can’t write romance?

You see, I could talk until I’m blue in the face, but then you won’t see for yourself. Lee Brazil *Hi, Lee*, Andrew Grey, John Goode and Christopher Koehler, are guys who write gorgeous romances. The range and depth of feeling in their books makes this girl’s (what! I can be a girl) toes curl. I could pick quotes from all of their books. But then I’d be rereading their books til midnight and I want to get some sleep. Sure, men write thrillers and crime, sci-fi and fantasy. But they can write romance as well and don’t let anybody tell you any different.

Sue’s Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

Complete Faith: sequel to Morning Report.

For Tommy Bradley, a hand working on the Lost Cow Ranch in rural Texas, admitting his sexuality is impossible, even if his bosses, Luke and Simon, are gay—Tommy has spent his entire life hiding the truth from his homophobic parents. Then Tommy meets pastor Noah Taylor in Luke’s father’s hospital room, and his difficult secret becomes that much harder to keep.

Noah is unlike any man of God—or any man—Tommy’s ever met. For one thing, his congregation is made up primarily of GLBT individuals and their families. For another, he isn’t afraid of the attraction he feels toward Tommy, and he makes his intentions very clear. But Noah won’t hide his sexuality or his love from the world, and he won’t start a relationship with Tommy while Tommy hides his, either. Faced with the choice of losing Noah or coming out to his parents, Tommy takes his first steps out of the closet.

 But Tommy isn’t the only one facing challenges. Thanks to an outpouring of hatred from Pastor Jackson and a group of ranch owners, Noah must cope with the possible loss of his church and his livelihood.

Tantalizing Tuesday # 4

Welcome to another Tantalizing Tuesday! 

I've got a little snippet for you today- a taste only...

"Come home with me."

If the words had held any passion, Jerry would have gone. But Max's flat voice indicated he could care less what Jerry's response was. Jerry avoided looking into his eyes, afraid they would be equally expressionless.

"I can't," he mumbled dejectedly.

"Because of Kelley?" Max continued to block his access to the door.

"We're just friends."

"Then why not come with me for the night?" Max extracted a cigarette pack form his pocket.

"I said no." Anger crept into his words. Jerry shifted, casting nervous glances at his window. If Kelley saw him, he'd never hear the end of it. His room mate knew how he lusted after Max.  It was stupid to let the opportunity to be fucked by the man of his dreams slip through his fingers just because he wanted to be special.  

"He waiting for you?" The cigarette pack scraped Jerry's jaw as Max pulled him close. "What will he think of this?"

Demanding lips crashed down on Jerry's and his lips parted of their own accord. Max's kiss was masterful, all encompassing...and not at all expressionless.

Max withdrew with a self-satisfied smile, and waved up at the lit window before leaving.

Enjoy my flash? 

Check out the others! 

Naomi Shaw: http://naomisfantasies.wordpress.com

Lee Brazil : http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com

Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/

Julez S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/

Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/

Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/tantalizing-tuesday-2/

Muffy Wilson: http://muffywilson.blogspot.com

Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.ca

ER Pierce: http://www.erpierce.com

Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Jp Arhcer: http://jp-archer.blogspot.com

Leann Mitchell http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com

Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca

Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/

Molly Synthia: http://mollysynthia.com

Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/

Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/

Sinful Sirens Blog Hop

And we have a winner! 


vitajex(at)aol(dot)com


has been notified by email. 


Thank you to everyone who stopped by and commented. 

SINFUL SIRENS BLOG HOP

Hosted by Guilty Pleasures and Under the Covers

Blog hop runs from 12:01 AM May15th through to 11:59 PM May 20th, 2012.

Are you a Sinful Siren?

Sinfully Scorching Reads?  

Oh yes...I've got some suggestions for you...

Try this one: 

The son of a wealthy business man, Mark Addison is an expert at chess and hiding. Mason Grant labors with his hands in a menial position; he's open about who he is and what he wants in ways that terrify Mark. Their paths shouldn't have crossed, but now that they have...

They came from different backgrounds, yet each adheres to his own version of family duty and responsibility. One would make any sacrifice for his family's well being. For Mason Grant that means leaving school at sixteen and working hard while living as a man of integrity to set an example for his brothers.

The other would sacrifice anything to keep his family life calm. If that means hiding who he really is from his high society, narrow-minded parents, then that's what Mark Addison will do. He just wants to run his shop, host a few tournaments, play a few games of chess.

When Mason meets fussy, precise chess tournament director Mark, he isn't expecting much more than a few hours of uncomfortable sleep in his car while his brother plays.

One disdainful look from Mark changes that. 

Buy Link: http://www.breathlesspress.com/marks-opening-gambit

Some sparks are flying in this one... 

So- on to the important part, huh? 

What are we giving away this week? 

I have a $25 i-Tunes gift card.

 (That's like cash!  You can get so many things from i-Tunes!) 

It could be yours. 

How you ask? Simple...

Leave me a comment, which includes the following:  

1.  Your email (must contact you if you win, right?) 

2.  Sirens are Creatures of myth- they lured sailors to their deaths...Tell me..what's your favorite mythical being? 

3.  Bonus Entry- Tell me the sirens weapon of choice in their destruction & the singer who could lure you to your death with the power of song... 

Find More participants here: 

http://underthecoversbookblog.blogspot.com/2012/02/heat-up-your-summer-sinful-sirens.html

The Man Trap June Giveaway

Good morning! Time to announce the winners! 

1st draw- pendant and ebook- Angel Martinez

2nd draw- ebook - jayhjay

Winners have been notified by email and 7 days to claim there prizes. 

Thank you to everyone who participated. AMara has more fantastic jewelry designs at 

http://www.etsy.com/shop/FreiaInguz

The Man Trap Fabulous Giveaway Contest Runs from May 18 to June 1st 1 winner will receive pendant and an e-copy of the book 2 winners will receive an e-copy of the book Hot Air Balloon Ride pendent.....   http://freiainguz.wordpress.com/2012/04/07/a-hot-air-balloon-ride-the-pendant/ Rules Must leave comment and email address to enter the drawing. Comment must answer the question: What would be your perfect first date? Entrants must respond to email contact within 7 days to claim prize Those who sign up for the news letter will be entered twice in the drawing. (This includes all current newsletter subscribers) Winners will be announced on the original post on June 1st, and notified  via email. (This Post!) Winners will be selected via random number draw.  The Man Trap by Lee Brazil Breathless Press Contemporary M/M Available June 1st, 2012 www.breathlesspress.com Alexi is the reason, other than an unrequited crush on Brad Pitt, that Simon can say with certainty that he is bisexual.  He let Alexi go once;  it's a mistake he's determined not to repeat.  Excerpt: Alexi and Simon's first "date" ... "Shouldn't I get to have a say in this decision you've made not to explore what's been between us since high school?" His voice was level and calm in the darkness, but I could tell by the tension in his grip my answer was important. "I just can't, not with a kid involved." The excuse sounded lamer and lamer every time I said it, especially out loud. "Let me be the judge of what's appropriate for my child, Simon. Turn here. I have a place in mind where we can go and talk." We drove in silence for a while. I followed Alexi's directions and steered into a parking lot. We had arrived at our destination. Bemused, I turned to face him. "A winery? At this hour of the day?" His joyous smile chased away some of the depression that had been my constant companion for the past month. A dreamy expression deepened the gray of his eyes. "Yes! This is something I've always wanted to do, and..." The determined look on his face made me brace myself for his next words. "You can't run away if we're up there." Up there? What the fuck did he mean? Never underestimate the power of a pretty smile. Forty-five minutes later, I clung to Alexi's hand, visions of death floating through my head. We sipped hot cocoa as a magnificent, terrifying, beautifully colored balloon inflated above the basket that would carry us and a few other passengers in an hour-long sunrise tour of the Temecula wine country. I am not afraid of heights. I fly regularly, look out the windows of high-rise buildings, and I've even stood at the top of the Washington Monument as it swayed under my feet while I gazed out across D.C. A hot air balloon, though, was something else. A fragile bit of nothing between me and a freefall through the frigid morning air to earth. No engine, no seatbelt, no protective barrier to prevent disaster. I forced myself to release Alexi and pretended interest in the inflating operation. The focus helped me gulp down the rising nausea. A few other couples stood about waiting as well and in short order we were on board and rising gracefully into the early morning gloom. As though by unspoken agreement, we all headed to separate corners, ensuring each couple the utmost privacy. The gentle breeze ruffled our hair, and I shoved aside my doubts about a relationship with Alexi, determined to enjoy the moment. The sheer ethereal beauty of the rising sun over the orchards and vineyards below swept fear away and I tugged Alexi back against my chest, resting my chin on the top of his head as together we absorbed the moment. Silky black curls tickled my nose and cheeks as locks of hair clung to the bristle of five o'clock shadow. The scent of his citrusy aftershave or shampoo, whatever it was, teased my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, pretending to myself that the fresh air was what sent ripples of pleasure through my body. I waved away the glass of champagne and orange juice, the traditional breakfast of balloonists, according to the pilot, but Alexi accepted it willingly. I held him in my arms as we floated leisurely above the rolling hills with their lush vineyards dappled with ranch buildings and country estates, all colored by the brilliant glow of reds and oranges from the rising sun. Drifting here and there, time had no meaning, and as we dipped close to the top branches of a gnarled citrus grove, the pilot harvested a few sun-kissed fruits. Sipping his champagne, Alexi turned in my arms and gazed up into my eyes. His touch skimmed along the bristle of my jaw, and I tensed a bit, and then relaxed under the soothing touch. He twined his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck and tugged lightly to bring my lips down to his. In this dream-like setting, I gave no consideration to the pilot, the other passengers or the flimsiness of the basket we stood in. I settled back against the edge and pressed our lips together. His were cool, wet and sweet from the icy champagne. As my lips parted over his, a few drops of the bubbly champagne passed from his mouth to mine, followed by tiny darting forays of tongue. I cannot deny Alexi's kiss aroused me, the evidence of my interest ground firmly against him, and a hard cock rubbing against my thigh left no doubt about how affected Alexi was. This kiss transcended the physical; Alexi in my arms felt right in ways no one else ever had. In this atmosphere, rejecting the possibilities the future held felt foolish beyond compare. In the glow of the early morning, with the peace of the dawning day before us, anything seemed possible. Alexi withdrew his mouth slowly from mine, pausing to breathe across my lips, words I could barely decipher over the noise of my heart. "I have more than a hundred different kisses I've saved to share with you, Simon. That was one." Feebly, my brain made a last attempt to force logic on my heart, "Gregory..." Warm moist lips trailed from my chin across my jawline, and I winced, seriously regretting the failure to shave. "Six months, you said." Six months? What the hell was he talking about? Mellowed by the experience, wits dulled by the passion between us, I couldn't fathom his meaning. "What?" "You said you never had a relationship that lasted more than six months. Give me six months. In six months, if we're still dating, we'll add Gregory to the equation. Until then..." He tapped a finger against my mouth to keep it shut, I suppose so he could keep talking, but apparently he overestimated my ability to function while he touched me, because I immediately stopped listening. That warm touch, the gentle pressure, enticed. I couldn't resist. I had to taste. I licked and curled my tongue around the digit, then sucked his finger gently into my mouth. His eyes widened and he stopped talking abruptly, before jerking away suddenly. I agreed. I would have agreed to anything at all to experience those hundred kisses. As our mouths came together again, I decided that instead of firing Jeannie, I would give her a raise. If you enjoyed this teaser, then check out these  Find me on Face Book at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001551666797   or feel free to drop me a line atlee.brazil@ymail.com

New Cover Art: Less Than All

Coming June 16th 

from Lee Brazil and 

Silver Publishing

Crawl in Bed With: Havan Fellows - Second Date

*Crawls across bed.* Hi, gorgeous. Guess I didn't screw up the first time too badly if you're letting me come again....

Well aren't I the lucky one? I get to crawl into bed with my muse again...but you always knew I liked repeats didn't you Lee? *giggles and grabs Lee's arm dragging him into the bed next to me* There you go...now I can get all nice and comfy cozy...*big shite eating grin*

*snuggles* I know.  It's awesome that we have an excuse to do this. Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

You are climbing into bed with me and the sheets are the important thing? *giggling* Okay, they are cotton...I'd love to have silk sheets but I've tried them before...if I'm gonna slip slide on my bed I don't want it to be because of the linens *winks*

*blinks* *Checks room for hidden cameras. * Okay. Um...If you're going to be naughty, I'll have to get the bag out. Let's get this interview back on track. What are you wearing?

Well, Lee honey...what would you like me to wear?

Oh? I get to choose, huh? then I want you to wear this. 

Oh...and this...I think this needs to be right about there....

Okay. Now that you're dressed properly, what are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?

The norm would be M&M's...but for you I chose something a little more decadent...fresh berries and real cream to swirl them around in...try one, I love to pop them in my mouth and suck the cream off...

* unbuckles belt*  Do I have to chastise you? Stay focused! If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?

*hangs head* well now you've done it...that particular nightstand drawer is boring...the extra remote for the television that never gets turned on, multiple pads and pens that never write, oh and yeah—those three golf balls are always in there, again don't ask *heads desk giggling*...but if you want toys...I keep my bag under the bed...hmmm

*chuckles* No. No, I brought the only toys I'll need. Let's get this little ritual finished so and I'll show you. Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?

Ever since last year I have a trusty blankie I sleep with *blushes*, so shoot me...but I don't roll up in it or kick it off...it drapes me lovingly...*giggles*...but my feet never stay under it...

Nice. This blanket...is it soft and fuzzy? Can we share it? Will it cover us both? Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?

Now haven't we discussed this? Your feet are welcome anywhere they want to go...not only welcome but encouraged too...hehe

*chuckles. Excellent answer. What are we reading?

Oh this is the good part...we are enjoying Emery's Ritches...my very first solo release...*cocks an eyebrow at Lee and smirks* Oh go ahead, I dare you to say what you are thinking...*giggles*

Now come on *pats pillow next to me and hold the kindle so we both can read* let's get this party started...

Emery's Ritches

Ritchie Lymings is wallowing in self-pity after seeing the man he loves—his best friend—reunited with his arch enemy. He's drowning his sorrows in coffee and caramel when an irritating stranger barges into his life, determined to make him smile. Even if this interloper is too dense to understand his faux pas, Ritchie figures he may be good for a quickie to get his mind off of his immediate situation. A simple round of love 'em and leave 'em sounds promising.

Emery Hutchins recognizes Ritchie immediately when he stops for his morning coffee and breakfast. His friend Ryder had been telling him stories about "the infuriating twit" for years. Fate and coincidence were two things that normally gave Emery cause for pause, but he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. Unable to relinquish control to fate though, he immediately devises a plan to make the deliciously snarky Ritchie his own, one hundred percent completely.

But for these two diverse personalities there is one major problem. How can Ritchie's attitude and Emery's meticulousness blend together, or is this an oil and water mess?

Excerpt:

"Oh wow, and here I feared the worst, that you would never break through that dark look and smile. Now that I've seen your smile, I'm pretty sure I never want to see you without it."

Snapping out of his daydream, Ritchie turned to the intruding voice and set eyes on the sexiest man he'd seen in a long time. Short golden hair on the sides, longer in front, clear silver-blue eyes, high forehead, and pouty cupid's bow lips. Hot damn, he's a god.

After a few tense seconds, Ritchie finally found his voice and attempted to put it to good use. "Can I help you?" Okay, not good use, but use at least.

"Most definitely, in so many ways too."

Ritchie's brows drew together and he couldn't hold back the growl. "Excuse me?"

The man smiled, wide and easy. "I wondered if I could share this table with you? This place gets busy in the blink of an eye. Plus I seem to have bought two coffees and two scones so I was thinking we could have breakfast together." And with that, he placed two cups and the single plate with two cinnamon chip scones he had meticulously juggled onto the table. He then proceeded to make himself at home in the chair across from Ritchie.

Ritchie glanced around and noted at least three empty tables, and pointedly glared back at his interloper.

That easy breezy grin didn't falter and the man didn't miss a beat. "That table wobbles, almost spilled a whole cup of their hazelnut all over me the other morning." He pointed to empty table number one. Then he directed his finger at empty table number two. "Sitting right next to that table you'll find Mrs. Glein. She's a widow and sweet as pie, but keeps insisting I meet with this mysterious grandson of hers named Stevie. Now considering she only has one grandchild, a beautiful woman named Stephanie, I figure she wants to convert me. I would rather skip that conversation this morning." Ritchie glanced over at the old lady. She smiled widely at the stranger and he waved and nodded back in acknowledgment.

Then he turned his attention to the third table that now housed two students with their laptops. "And darn if I didn't just miss that table by a millisecond. Good thing I got this seat when I did, huh?"

Ritchie took another sip of his coffee, trying to process how to lose this guy. He was obviously ill in some department no matter how hot he might be. Ritchie tilted his cup all the way back, then remembered it was empty. He set the mug back down a little too heavily causing a loud clacking noise that caused many of the patrons to look up with disapproving glares.

Then he looked back at his company, who held the extra steaming cup out to him. "Caramel latte, I believe?"

Begrudgingly, Ritchie took the cup and sipped some more. Damn near everything could be solved with the blessed combination of coffee and caramel. Staring into those clear silver-blue eyes from across the table, he stressed the damn near part.

"So, to what do I owe the great honor of your company?"

Grinning (of course, Ritchie mentally rolled his eyes) the man said, "You can owe the great honor to the fact that I didn't want to eat breakfast alone. Usually I don't mind, but when I noticed you so melancholy I decided today I minded."

Ritchie nodded. "Ah, I get it now. You're one of those do-gooders that just has to stick his nose where it isn't wanted. Come to turn my frown upside down, have you? Thanks, I appreciate the pity, but I'm doing just fine pitying myself. Don't need your help."

"But you did need my coffee and you do need to eat something." He placed one of the scones on a napkin in front of Ritchie.

"What are you, my mother?"

He winked at Ritchie. "Not exactly, I don't have the proper equipment for that. Though now I think I should start pitying myself that you didn't notice." And for the first time throughout this whole weird interaction, the stranger's smile turned into an exaggerated version of a pout.

Ritchie rolled his eyes for real this time, and against his will, he felt himself smirking in response to that pout.

"Ah ha!" Not surprisingly the pout disappeared. "I knew I would break down your defenses eventually. So who is he?"

"Excuse me?" Hadn't he already said that during this conversation?

"Who's the guy that's got you all knotted up? Only way for someone to look that downcast is when love's involved. Since you aren't all pissy and mad, well, not any more than what I assume's the norm for you," the man chuckled at his own joke, "I have to deduce that it's unrequited love. The guy obviously doesn't understand what a joyful gem you are. So I repeat, who is he? Shall I hunt him down and explain the error of his ways?" He popped a bit of scone into his mouth and managed to smile through the closed-mouth chewing process.

"I'm sorry, am I putting off a vibe saying that I'm a people person or something? Because if so, I need to fix my vibe-o-meter. What makes you think it's a guy anyway?"

New Cover Art for June Release: The Man Trap

Coming June 1

 The Man Trap

by Lee Brazil 

m/m contemporary romance

Breathless Press 

When former classmate Alexi Manetas wanders into his book store, Simon Harris seizes the opportunity to rekindle a flame he'd carelessly extinguished years earlier

Tantalizing Tuesday #3

Welcome back to Tantalizing Tuesday!  

Have a little bit of an issue this morning. *shakes head* 

These boys. Just an FYI- picture him with longer hair...

"I've got nothing to say."

"I have," Blayne snapped sharply. "Someone has to make you see the mess you're making of your life!"

Aaron tossed his head, sending waves of hair tumbling through the rough wood slats of the park bench. He clamped his lips shut, holding in the bitter retort that trembled on his tongue. Don't feed the trolls in the park;  they'll never leave you alone.

"Who answered your phone?" Blayne continued relentlessly. "A new trick? Can't you ever sleep alone?"

The unjust accusations struck especially hard since he'd spent the last three months very much alone. Fury and inexplicable pain roared to life. "Fuck you, Blayne. We spent one night together. Great sex does not entitle you to pass judgment. Think what you like; I am not a slut."

"Oh? So that wasn't you I picked up in that bar?" Blayne's lips twisted.

"I'm off." Aaron swung his feet off the bench and sat upright. He winced as the splintered wood pulled at his hair. He didn't give a damn about the physical pain though. "I wasn't alone in that bar looking to get laid. If that makes me a slut, then what does it make you?"

LIKE MY FLASH? CHECK OUT THE OTHERS! 

Naomi Shaw: http://naomisfantasies.wordpress.com

Julez S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/ 

Muffy Wilson: http://MuffyWilson.blogspot.com

Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/tantalizing-tuesday/

Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com

Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.com

Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/

ER Pierce: http://erpierce.com

Benjamin T. Russell http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/

Cassandre Dayne http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/

Leann Mitchell: http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com

Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com

Friends With Benefits

Try out Breathless Press's new program~

Friends With Benefits!                       Spend $1.00 and get 1 point.

Turn that point in for $1.00 off your next purchase.

Only at www.breathlesspress.com!

Crawl in bed with Andrew Grey

Crawling Into Bed With

Andrew Grey

And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?  Cotton for me.  I love soft and comfy.

What are you wearing?  Nothing at all.   Perfect for cuddling and… other activities.

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?  I rarely eat in bed.  It makes the sheets scratchy, but before bed, we fed each other apple spice cake with cream cheese frosting.

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?  Oh god.  You’ll find all kinds of crap including a few toys, lube, old papers and anything else I don’t want visitors to see. 

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night? Neither.  I often shift during the night but if I get cold, I either curl close or turn up the electric blanket so we both stay toasty warm

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?  Hell no.  No one put their cold parts on me.  In fact, I’m the one with cold feet and I’ll put them in all kinds of creative places to keep them warm, so be nice because pay backs are a bitch, especially when it comes to cold feet.  LOL

What are we reading? Right now, we’re reading parts of A Helping of Love.  I’m working on the follow up (A Slice of Love) and I need to make sure I have some of the details that need to fit with the other story correct.    If you’re good, I’ll read the sexy parts to you out loud to make sure things get going nicely.  Imagine your own person audiobook read by the author.

Here’s a buy link:  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2821

Excerpt:

Peter promised he would and hurried home as fast as the weather would allow. Once he arrived, he spent nearly an hour getting out of his wet clothes, drying off, and getting into dry things. He also dried off his wet chair and got on the road again. Thankfully, the rest of his day went better, and by the time he’d made all his calls, the skies had cleared. Peter decided he needed some exercise, so he stopped at home to change and get a different chair. He drove to the local high school and parked near the running track, getting out his chair—this one sleek and sturdy, custom-made for him. Peter slid into it and wheeled himself toward the running surface.

Getting into position, he began moving forward, his arms propelling the wheels on the racing chair. As he picked up speed, his chest, shoulders, and back came into play, and he zoomed around the banked oval. The chair was weighted for him and could turn on a dime. As he picked up speed, Peter’s blood raced through his body, heart pumping life through him. After a while, it felt as though he were flying around the oval, arms and chest throbbing, letting him know they were being worked. He passed a runner in a blur and continued moving, staying in one of the middle lanes, out of the way.

Peter kept moving, passing a few more runners and staying in the groove. Breathing through his nose and mouth, he reveled in the exercise, trying not to think about how he’d been before a drunk driver changed his life forever. But that was a while ago, and Peter pushed it away. It wasn’t hard, not out here in the evening air, passing runners like they were standing still. Twenty minutes, half an hour, forty-five minutes, each milestone passed with a small beep of his watch. Once he reached his goal, he slowed but continued moving to cool off. “Hey, dude, that was cool,” one of the runners called as he caught up with Peter, running as Peter kept pace with them.

“Thanks,” Peter said with a smile.

“Do you compete?” a familiar voice asked, and Peter glanced to the side to see Russ running along with the other guys.

“I want to, but I’m not sure I’m good enough yet,” Peter answered truthfully.

“I’d say you were. You looked like you were flying,” Russ told him, and as Peter slowed, he noticed that Russ did as well, the other guys getting ahead of them. “When I saw you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t hurt your legs, did I?”

Peter shook his head. “I have a slight bruise, not from you, but nothing worse than that. It’ll heal in time, but I have to keep an eye on it. How’s your arm? Does it hurt?” Peter noticed that Russ was wearing a pressure bandage on each arm to cover his wrists.

“No,” Russ said, touching one of his wrists. “I’m a bit clumsy, I guess.”

Peter didn’t argue, and they came to a stop off to the side of the track. Russ was as covered in sweat as Peter, his white T-shirt almost translucent, small nipples almost visible.

“Russ, are you ready to go home?” a man called as he strode across the grass, dressed in what looked to Peter to be a tailored suit.

“Almost,” he answered before turning back to Peter. “I’ll talk to you later in the week, and I think you’re good enough to compete.” Russ smiled before turning and walking toward the man who Peter assumed was Barry. The large man looked impatient, and as Russ approached, Barry hustled him toward a white Corvette, where Barry appeared to throw a shirt at Russ, obviously afraid to get the seat of his “compensating for my small penis” sports car dirty. Curious, Peter watched Russ strip off his shirt, and he stifled a gasp at what looked like black-and-blue marks on Russ’s shoulder.

“The man’s an asshole,” one of the runners said from behind Peter. “If he got anywhere near me, I’d shove that Corvette up his ass.” Peter laughed at the other man’s joke and looked away after Russ pulled on the fresh shirt and got into the car. Barry started the engine, revving it as loudly as he could before pulling out, tires squealing.

Peter rarely hated someone on sight, but Barry fell into that category. His very demeanor screamed self-righteous, sanctimonious asshole. Well, that was none of Peter’s business. Russ seemed like a really nice guy, but he was taken. Not that he’d looked at Peter twice. No one seemed to. “You like him,” the kid next to him said. “It’s okay, dude, I like guys too.”

Peter turned away from watching where Russ and Barry had left. “Do you know Russ well?” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Russ? He had someone already.

“Not really. He runs with us sometimes. The big dude always picks him up and acts like a superior asshole, but Russ is cool, always nice, if a bit quiet.” The kid said goodbye and walked back to where his friends had gathered, still recovering from their run. Peter held up his hand to the group, and they returned the gesture before turning as a group and walking across to the far side of the oval. Peter rolled to his car and drove home. He’d had a profitable day business-wise, but once again he was coming home to an empty house.

After his accident, Peter had lived with his parents, but he could see the burden of taking care of him was falling to his mother. And as her health deteriorated, Peter fought hard and long to become more and more independent. He got a job, bought himself a small house, and moved out on his own. Both his parents worried about him, but Peter needed to be self-sufficient. Before the accident, Peter had been an athlete, a track star with high hopes and dreams. All that ended when he’d opened his eyes in the hospital, unable to move his legs. Peter hadn’t given up, and he’d channeled his athletic discipline and drive into his recovery. When it became evident there was no hope for him to walk again, he threw himself into becoming as independent as possible. That independence had come with a price, and living alone seemed to be it.

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