Holiday yumminess

Well, it's that time of year again.... time for way too many rich holiday treats. I personally love to see a table laden with desserts, but maybe that's just me. In any case, allow me to present to you the recipe I'll be making today and bringing over to my parents' house tonight.

Apple Cobbler with Nilla Wafer Crust

8 cups granny smith apples, peeled and thinly sliced
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar, divided
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided
1/3 cup old fashioned oats or 1/3 cup quick-cooking oats
1/4 cup cold margarine
25 nilla wafers, crushed (about 1 cup)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

Toss apples with 1/4 cup of the brown sugar and 1 tsp of the cinnamon. Spoon into 8- or 9- inch baking dish. 

Combine oats, the remaining brown sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon in medium bowl. Cut in margarine with pastry blender or two knives, until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add wafer crumbs, mix well. Spread crumb mixture evenly over apples. 

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until apples are tender. Serve warm or cooled. Top with whipped topping.

Trust me, with the Nilla Wafers? Delish. Happy baking!

The Brain of Morbius

Congrats to anyone who recognized that as the title of a Doctor Who episode from the Tom Baker era. You win many, many geek points and a fangirl high-five from me. Doctor Who doesn't have anything to do with my post, but when I was thinking about a title to go with my evil brain theme, that's what my geek brain came up with.

Yes, my brain is evil. Sadistically cruel. It wants me to suffer. You see, I've been writing this fun series set in Baltimore. The third book comes out in April and I love it to pieces. (For those of you wondering it's about Quinn's friend Jamie. If anyone was worried, Peter isn't in it.) But to return to my evil brain issues, while I was writing Bad Attitude, my story brain birthed an awesome plot bunny for the fourth book...or so I thought. (Cue melodramatic incidental music.)

Basically, number four, which has the working title of Bad Habit (no, no nuns, and no Peter. He doesn't deserve an HEA.), is about Silver, Eli's tall blond friend. Apparently, my brain decided that I'd been having way too much fun with the previous three books and decided to give me a conflict that would be a almost impossible to resolve. I came up with an idea for a reunion romance and let me tell you, there's a serious reason it didn't work the first time. Wrongs on both sides. It sounded awesome. Just the kind of thing to use as a carrot to urge me to finish Bad Attitude. Delighted, I dove in to book number four.

And found out someone drained all the water from the pool.

Ow ow ow.

Sadistic brain. It's up there laughing at me while I am bleeding on the bottom of the drained pool.

Damn. Great idea in theory but this sucker is hard to write. Like Regularly Scheduled Life hard. But just like with that book, when I try to put it aside to focus on something else that might come out a little faster than a sentence every hour, my brain goes right back to that idea. It won't let it go. And that's why I say it's evil. I mean, don't I give it a happy playground full of imaginary friends? How could it do this to me? Why does it want me to suffer?

Maybe I should take a cue from another Fourth Doctor episode, be reduced to virus size and injected into my brain so that I can tame the evil lurking in my head that wants to make me tell this story. Or at least force it to tell it faster.

And for the Whovians who stayed with me, yes, that one is The Invisible Enemy. And if you know which companion was introduced in that episode, you win all the geek points and why aren't we friends already?

In the holiday spirit

It's actually beginning to feel festive around my house these days. Last year, we visited family overseas so there was no decorating done at home. This year, we're here, so I put away the autumnal decorations and pulled out some of the ol' red-and-green. We even got a tree yesterday, which we haven't done in about four years. I LOVE IT! Pretty multi-coloured lights and a moose puppet as a topper. (Hey, you have your traditions, and I have mine.) I plan to get more accoutrements out later today to continue festive-ing up the place. :-D

And since it is almost Solstice, I think you should go check out my old holiday freebie short story with Jimothy and Ricky (stars of my first novel The Ballad of Jimothy Redwing). It's called Wand'ring Home and if you click that title, it'll take you straight to the pdf. (Ignore the cover art. It's fine, but it's generic, and the only thing it has to do with the story is that boys kiss each other. I've been so busy I've not gotten around to updating it.)

Happy Holidays!

False Dawn Re-release

Good news! I re-released my space opera novella False Dawn this past weekend! I'm quite proud of the cover I put together. I loved the original one so much that I did my best to honour the original image. I hope you like it!

Here's an excerpt, too, and it's not the one I usually use for this book. It's a bit steamier than that. ;-)

***

"Hi!" Galen barely got the greeting out before Dayan was through the doorway and on him.

Dayan grasped him by his broad shoulders and pulled him into a searing kiss. Startled but willing, Galen opened his mouth to Dayan's searching tongue, and Dayan took full advantage. He swept his tongue along Galen's teeth and tickled the roof of Galen’s mouth, reveling in the taste and feeling, the warmth and the wetness.

When at last they came up for breath, both men were panting. Galen's brown eyes were nearly all pupil, and Dayan was more than ready to fall into them. He'd waited all damned day to show his lover just how proud he was of that promotion.

"Congratulations, Detective," he said, his voice a husky purr of desire.

"I take it you don't want to go out to celebrate." Galen's expression and tone were wry.

Dayan returned the look with a lascivious, one-sided grin. "What do you think?" He pressed his hard, aching cock against Galen's thigh, just below the hip joint, and rolled a little from one side to the other. Galen groaned and leaned in for another devouring kiss. Dayan happily obliged.

Again, they only parted when they had to stop for air. Gasping, Galen smiled broadly. Dayan loved that wide mouth, those straight, white teeth, and dove in for more before either of them properly caught their breath. His head felt light, but whether from lack of oxygen or overload of lust, he didn't know. Didn't care.

Dayan pushed against his lover until they were brought up short by the couch that stood against the outer bulkhead. Dayan released him again and gave him enough of a shove that Galen lost his balance and sat heavily. Without a pause, Dayan straddled him where he sat and began to undo the buttons on his new dress shirt--as much an indication of his new rank as the badge that glinted at Dayan from his belt.

The release of each button was followed by a kiss, a nip, a bite, of Galen's dark, smooth, muscled chest. When Dayan reached the waistband of Galen's tailored black trousers, he tugged the shirt tails up and out, found the last button, and, bent double over his lover's lap, placed a kiss over Galen's navel. He alternately circled it with the tip of his tongue, flicking at the little indentation, and sucked a mouthful of flesh around it. Galen squirmed and shook, just as Dayan knew he would.

Dayan sat up straight, one hand on the clasp of Galen's belt, the other fondling his lover's balls through the taut fabric of his slacks. The outline of his erection was hard pressed just to the left of the fly, but Dayan held off from grasping it. He's been anticipating this all day; he had to take a little revenge and make his lover wait a bit, too.

He leaned in and whispered in Galen's ear. "Is there anything you particularly want tonight?" A gentle squeeze on his sac that made Galen gasp and groan.

"Any...requests?" A tender nibble at the shell of his ear. "Or do you trust me..." Nip. "...to make you..." Nuzzle. "...scream?"

Galen's breath came in short gasps, and Dayan knew he had him. They'd played this game many times, and Galen had never once turned down that particular offer. He looked up into Dayan's gaze and grinned, equal parts defiance and fervor.

"Dare you."

***

You can buy it now from Amazon or for your B&N Nook!

Excerpt, Man Whore

It’s been a whole month already? Damn…

November was spent with my head in the Day Job. Between the year-end rush of client calls and wrapping up a project started when I had more time available, I’ve been flat out busy with the Job That Pays the Bills. Despite this, I’ve managed a little more work on the still untitled sequel to Man Whore. It’s almost finished. Well, no, it’s almost ready to query. Then the work will start all over again. I know.

Anyway, because my functional non-day-job time is scare, I’m going to keep this short and sweet so I can really query that manuscript this year. Instead of listening to me ramble today, enjoy an excerpt from Man Whore, and then hold me to querying its sequel by year end.

~*~

Morgan Desrosier slipped through the heavy black door sporting the name HIM in two-inch, white chipped letters above the handle: the only identifier that anything existed beyond its walls. As he strutted up to the bar, the bartender wrapped up his conversation with current customers and poured a glass of whiskey, leaving it in front of Morgan as his gaze circled the crowd.

"Slow for a Thursday," the bartender said.

"Very," Morgan agreed. Men mixed and milled about, sure, but none of the bodies elicited interest from his. Several men looked him over. Morgan discounted their hungry stares. He dressed to draw attention— fishnet crawled down his arms peeking out from beneath the elbow-length sleeves of his charcoal tee, black jeans with green-stitched seams, sized snug enough to leave little to the imagination, black plastic hoops in his ears matched the impressions under his shirt of little circles piercing his nipples. To complete the look, his chestnut brown hair sported random black and green tips. He lined his eyes the same, black smudges hugging crisp, green lines, colored around emerald eyes openly judging any man bold enough to meet them.

After draining his drink, Morgan wove through the bodies on the dance floor, avoiding groping hands until he reached his intended marks. Yes, plural. The twins turned in unison, beaming wide smiles of perfect white teeth at him.

"Our favorite slut," said Cayne. Or, maybe, that was Layne.

"Looking for company?" asked Layne. Or maybe Cayne.

They preferred the mystery and Morgan couldn't be bothered to unravel it. To him, they were one. To him, they were The Twins. He didn't bother trying to guess which one was Layne and which was Cayne because, when he did, he inevitably guessed wrong. His hips swung as he approached, dancing himself between them. Their hands welcomed him, one twin wrapping his arms around Morgan's waist while the other draped fingers around the back of his neck, tickling and teasing.

"You know I'm always looking for company," Morgan said.

Exactly the same, he didn't care if the lips pressing to the back of his neck belonged to Layne or Cayne. Each had thick, sandy brown hair that fell over his face as if playing a game of hide-and-seek, and the most unusual amber eyes with outer edges of muted green. They dressed anywhere from conservative and casual to seductive to purely flamboyant. Tonight, they wore ripped Levi's and maroon shirts with the buttons separated to their navels. Morgan, with one arm around the shoulders in front of him, slipped his free hand down a bare, smooth chest.

The twin tilted his head, his hair falling over his eyes as they reflected mischief hidden in his thoughts. With a smile he said, "Take us home, M."

"You know my rule."

"And you know ours." The whispered words eddied around his ear and then dove down to his balls.

"Once," Morgan said.

"Once," they agreed in unison.

"And you won't be weird about it later."

The twins chuckled. The one behind him pressed his hips to Morgan's ass while his brother grinded against him from the front. "We promise," said Cayne. Or maybe Layne. "It won't ruin our friendship."

"Just play," said the other. "Just pleasure. Just once."

"Unless you request more."

Morgan laughed. "Cocky fuckers."

"Yes," purred Layne. Or maybe Cayne.

"We know what you like, and we know what we like." The other gave him a faux coy wink.

"And that," said the first, "is dancing with you, M."

"And teasing me," Morgan added.

"No teasing." The tongue wet his ear before continuing with words. "Promises."

Morgan dropped his hands to the waist in front of him and yanked the man closer. His response was clear and firm in his pants. The twin nodded. On Morgan's shoulder, he felt the other nod in reply. "Oh boy, what did I just agree to?" Morgan asked.

"Every man's wet dream," answered the tongue in his ear. "Twins in his bed."

~*~

Available in ebook or print format from Silver Publishing, or your favorite 3^rd party distributor.