Aaaaand another one for you...

I got two of the nicest comments recently, both asking for another excerpt of Never Too Early: Full Circle. Since Chris and I reached 50k on it yesterday and still have at least another 10k to go, there is no shortage of good snippets to choose from. Here's a little piece for you, and happy Sunday.

***

"Where's the paper targets?" Tucker crouched down to the blanket and searched around. "These can go on the trees." Three or four tall oaks were a good bit of distance away.

Chance jogged to the trees and fastened the targets, then returned and squinted at them. "Good enough?"

"Yep. Tucker, go for it. Make Kentucky proud."  Tor leaned against the truck to watch, liking the sun on his shoulders. "Chance, are you good with handguns?"

He nodded. "Better than with a shotgun, actually. I never shot a rifle until a few years ago. The ones you have are nicer than anything I've used."

Tor stage whispered, "Jake can be a little tight, but he invests in good guns."  He ignored the dirty look he got for that. "You're doing fine. Shoulder it again for me, let me see your stance. Just don't try Jake's. It won't work for anyone but him."

Chance did as requested. He brought the gun to his shoulder, and Tor was amused to note that Chance had a stance that, if not identical to Jake's, was strangely similar. Then he realized why.

"Okay, surfer boy. I'm going to get up close and personal." He smiled and slotted himself behind Chance, hands on Chance's hips. "No wonder Jake didn't suck on a surfboard. Okay, move your hips back, like this, and let your lead foot come on back." He used his hands to square Chance's hips a bit and pulled him back tight to his own body. "Oh, hello there. Jake's right -- you smell good."

Chance turned his head to the right and looked over his shoulder at Tor. Their eyes were just about level, although Chance may have been slightly taller. Jake had also been right about Chance's eyes changing color, Tor noted. They'd been a soft hazel this morning, but now they matched the bright green of the patchy grass around them. "Jake put some stuff in our shower. It says it smells like ocean, but I don't think whoever made the soap has actually been to the beach."

"Well, whatever it is, it smells good on you." Tor winked at him and went on. "Now, hips back here, feet firm on the ground. Rifle to shoulder. How does that feel?"  He didn't step back. The sun was warm on his back, and Chance was warm on his front.

Chance cleared his throat. "Good. It feels… good." He didn't move either. "But I feel like I could step off balance as soon as the gun kicks. Should I try a shot?"

"Go for it, I've got you." Tor was braced, mirrored like Chance, hands still on Chance's hips. "Just aim and squeeze."

Tor felt Chance tense a moment before pulling the trigger. The blast was loud in his ears. The back kick of the barrel rocked both of them, and Chance nearly took a step to the side. He managed to keep his balance at the last second, but in doing so, pressed himself even more firmly against Tor's chest. He lowered the rifle and stared straight ahead at the target. "Like that?" he asked, his voice low.

"Mmhmm. More or less.  Want to try again? Find your balance?" Tor was feeling more than a little off balance himself. He took a breath and tightened his grip on Chance's hips. "Careful now." He might have been talking to himself.

It's autumn, right?

California does not know what season it is. Well, that's pretty much true all the time, but right now my state REALLY does not have itself together. We're in the middle of a serious drought and there is no rain in sight. Rain is the only way we know it's fall or winter. Here's hoping the end of the month brings cooler temps and wet weather. I have a lot of hoodies I didn't get to wear last year.

Now that that bit of scintillating information is out of the way, let me tell you what you probably came here for.... no new snippets today from Never Too Early. I know, I'm sorry. But the good news is that release day is only 24 days from now! And if you're really hankering for some more good stuff about Jake and Tor and Chance and Tucker, my good friend Keira Andrews was nice enough to host a character interview.

Go HERE for that, and while you're there, take a look around her site. She's an excellent author and one of my favorites.

As always, you can click the covers below to buy Bareback and Heat so you're all caught up on the boys' backstories before November 5. See you in a week or two with more goodies and a contest!!

Sunday already?

All right, SO. I know my last few posts here have mainly centered on the novel I have coming out in November, but honestly, my co-author Chris Owen and I are so excited about it. I can't tell you how many times I wished some of my favorite books/movies/comics/TV shows would cross over with each other! Well, Chris felt the same way, so we finally decided to do something about it.

Never Too Early: The Beginning is the first book in a series starring her cowboys, Jake and Tor from Bareback, and my firemen, Chance and Tucker from Heat. If you haven't read either of these, that's a good place to start. Necessary backstory! Then you'll be ready on November 5 when this book is set to be released.

I've given you some little snips before, but here's another scene just to give you an idea of the chemistry cowboys and firemen can have when they meet each other. Feel free to let us know what you think.

***

He was about to make a joke of his own about the bourbon from Knob Creek when Tucker nudged him. "Well, I’ll be damned," Tucker murmured in a low voice. "Lookit who’s here."

Chance glanced up in time to see two familiar men standing at the hostess stand. Their hats were in their hands and the one named Jake was running fingers through his hair while Tor spoke to the young girl.

"Huh," he said out loud, then purposefully turned his attention back to the drink menu. It was a weird coincidence, that was all. And judging from the reception that Tucker’s invite had gotten last night, Chance was pretty sure Jake and Tor didn’t want to be bothered.

Within two minutes, however, a gray hat entered the edges of his field of vision. "Evening."

Before Chance could look up, let alone collect himself, Tor was joining in. "Enjoy your winnings last night?" he asked happily.

Chance cleared his throat. "Tucker enjoyed my winnings."

"Pfft." Tucker rolled his eyes and looked at Tor. "Listen to this one. Like he didn’t drink just as much as me. Like he didn’t practically go down on me in the restr--"

"Tuck!" Chance interrupted sharply, giving Tucker an elbow in the side. It didn’t deter him much, however. Tucker grinned at Tor and raised his eyebrows.

Jake stood quietly, Chance noticed, although he had definitely shuffled his feet when Tucker started running his mouth.

"A healthy relationship, then," Tor said, laughing out loud. "Good enough." He narrowed his eyes a little at Tucker. "You've got the accent. Have you eaten here before?"

"Shit. I don’t got no accent. Y’alls the ones with the accent. And you bet I been here before. Anyone who likes bourbon’s been here." Tucker waved the drink menu at him. "I can recommend some."

"How about the food?" Jake put in, one eyebrow up.

For once, Chance was grateful that Tucker was carrying most of the conversation. He studied Jake and noted how close he was standing to his partner. Possessiveness again? Chance didn’t know. Tor didn’t seem to mind.

"You like steak?" Tucker asked Jake.

"Of course." Jake nodded once and then added, "And all the stuff that goes with it. But we raise our own cattle so I'm a bit fussy about my beef."

"That's the polite way to put it." Tor sounded like he'd been around Jake when he was unhappy with dinner once or twice. "Completely a bitch is the other way I'd say it."

Chance surprised himself by laughing. "That’s not very nice," he admonished. "If a guy doesn’t like the way his meat is cooked, then send it back until it’s right."

"Yeah," Tucker added, with a smile that only Chance knew was sarcastic instead of agreeable. "Send it back. Again. And again. And maybe once more, because there prolly ain’t enough of the waiter’s spit in it yet."

Chance looked over to find Jake giving him a small smile. "Well?" Chance asked him. "Am I right?"

"You're right. Of course you're right. Who wants to eat a meal that isn't just the way it should be, especially if it has a price tag on it?"

Tor rolled his eyes so hard that Chance thought it must have hurt. "People who can relax and enjoy a meal someone else cooked, that's who."

"You eat your way, I'll eat mine. So, anything on the menu that stood out the last time you were here?" Jake looked at Tucker expectantly. 

***

Check back here in a couple of weeks and there might be more... happy Sunday, slashers!

Solo Flight

The official reveal should be coming soon, so I can't share the lovely cover art with you just yet, but stay tuned to my blog over at www.piaveleno.com for the full details on Solo Flight sometime this week.

In the meantime, check out Loose Id's Tumbler for a contest LI is running alongside the release of these wonderful books. Yes, plural, Solo Flight  is part of the Eostre's Baskets release. There will be several books by several wonderful authors. As each one is revealed each it will be listed HERE, on the Eostre's Baskets page of LI's website.

Oh, and I didn't forget... You can read about the contest and how to enter on Loose Id's Tumbler page by clicking HERE.

Happy March, dear readers, and don't forget to pop in later this week at www.piaveleno.com for art, blurb, and release/buy details for Solo Flight.

~PV

Dahlinks!

It seems like it's been forever since I've posted. Which is probably true (thank you for not beating me up about it) but I have to admit, life's been so calm and normal that I haven't had anything to share! I'm sorry. Next time, I'll just give y'all pictures to ogle instead of abandoning you. I promise.

Next time! This time, I come bearing excerpt! YAY! Which seems to be the trend for the last two posts as well so I'm on the right track. The story chunk I'm sharing is the last of a mini series very dear to my heart. The first story of my Asher series is also the first story I ever published. That was three years ago when I was 18! I love saying that. I got to achieve a life goal at 18. How many people can really say that? Also, the title makes me giggle at myself because I can still see my 18 year old self, wide-eyed that the story was even read let alone accepted and thinking there would be no others.

Asher and the Elevator Romp. Can you tell I was thinking one shot? Either way, the characters, particularly Asher, gained a lot of love, bringing up the second story, Asher and the Threesome (subtle, I so am it), followed swiftly by a third, Promise. Promise is a free story but my site is down for redesign and maintenance so unfortunately, I can't link to it right now but you can still read on and come back for it later :) But after Promise came Unreal, which is in the process of being re-released and that's when I realized that I had made a real series here, even if it was a miniature version.

Bear in mind that right up until this last story, all the others had been short shorts. Then came No Man's Land (my title - it could change!). It's to date the longest thing I've written, which for me, is a fantastic accomplishment. It's a lovely-sized novella full of angst and drama and relationship. Wee! So, here it is, the end of my little series that could. Thanks for all the love, folks. The boys and I appreciate it :)

This is an unedited piece - forgive me for errors!

All the booze in my belly roiled into one big ball and shot up. I moaned and started sliding off the couch.

Hector swore, moving toward me but Derek was somehow there first, gathering me up in familiar arms. I snuggled against him out of habit then almost hit him when he ruined it by speaking. “C'mon, princess, don't puke here or you're cleaning it up.”

“F-F-Fuck...” I tried to cuss at him but my throat was clogging up with something disgusting and I moaned instead. The room became a blur as Derek ran for the bathroom. My bedroom flashed before me, pitch black save for a gray-blue gleam of moon and snow and city light from the window. Then my bathroom lit up and there, oh there, was the toilet.

Derek set me down and I shoved the lid up just in time. My stomach cramped; I heaved so hard. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gagged until there was no way anything could still be in my stomach....and then I kept gagging. When my body finally stopped trying to turn inside out, I fell backwards onto my butt and Derek flushed the toilet, slapping the lid down as well.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back until I nudged something solid but kinda bumpy. I peeked, noted the shower door and closed my eyes again before speaking. “'Kay. Maybe I'm a li'l drunker than I thought.”

“Ya think?” The whip of sarcasm stung but I was too out of it to care.

“Where's Hector?”

“Left. Probably to hold his own drunk lover over the toilet,” Derek grunted and his voice was a lot closer than it had been. I cracked my heavy eyelids and found Derek crouching in front of me, frowning hard.

I sighed. I wasn't up to another fight. Not with the nastiness on my tongue. “Please, yell later. Help me brush my teeth?”

“I'm not going to yell,” Derek protested but he helped me to my feet. I think we both held back a flinch at the sight of only two toothbrushes in the holder. He got my brush all gelled up since my hands were shaky and it was all I could do to stay upright.

“Yesh, oo ar',” I mumbled as I brushed. I spit. “You look ready to bust a nut and not in the good way.” I shoved the brush back in to start the whole process over again.

Standing beside me, clearly ready to catch me if I somehow managed to fuck something this simple up, Derek crossed his arms defensively. “You were only supposed to get your hair taken care of and maybe shoot the shit, not get fucked-up wasted.”

I spat for the last time, put the brush back and cupped my fingers beneath the water. “One, body started hurting and I forgot my pills so I had to do something. Two, I haven't seen Philip in awhile so we got carried away.” I drank some of the water then swished the rest in my mouth before spitting again. Feeling refreshed and actually kinda sober, I shut the water off and turned to grab my towel from the rack. My foot slipped as I moved and Derek grabbed the back of my shirt, saving me from face-planting on the floor.

Okay, yeah, only kinda sober.

“Is there a three?” Derek kept hold of me and in resignation, I dried my wet hands on my jeans.

“Do you think there is?”

“It's never just two reasons.”

No, it never was. I tipped my head forward and sighed. “And three, I'm really, really tired of being mad.”

He reeled me back until my back lined up against his front. Perfect. I'd forgotten how perfectly we fit. “So don't be mad.” Derek nipped my ear and I shuddered on contact. “I'm not mad.”

“You were.”

“Not anymore.” His tongue dipped into the curve of my ear then slid along the rim, I arched into his touch, startled at the sudden shift in action. But my dick didn't care. It swelled up fast enough to make my wobbly brain even dizzier.

I swallowed, my newly-cleaned mouth going dry. “D-Derek?”

His mouth went from my ear to my neck, his teeth threatening to do more than just graze. I went onto my toes and moaned. “I miss you, Ash.”

“Bedroom please,” I whispered, unwilling to argue with whatever change had hit him. If this was an alien in my boyfriend's body, at least it'd still be his dick. Drunk logic, oh yes, it was the best kind.

I come bearing manlove

Greetings from Katrina Strauss! I'm flattered, honored, and just plain tickled to be the newest member of Slash & Burn. I'll be posting here every other Thursday, and look forward to talking shop with readers and authors alike on all things M/M.

I was told the party's BYOB, as in Bring Your Own Boys, so I brought along an image that inspired my upcoming Amber Allure release, May/December contempo Sonoran Heat. The age difference looks a little more narrow between the hotties in this photo than between my characters Tony and Josh, but it's still an inspiring image with some lovely contrast, don't you think?


While I was at it, I thought I'd post a sneak peek from Sonoran Heat as well! Enjoy!

Blurb:
Tony sees a chance for a fresh start with 21-year-old Josh, but worries chasing a man half his age will lead to heartache. It’s hard to resist when Josh intrigues him on an intellectual level -- and fires his libido hotter than the Arizona desert they call home. As the desert nights heat up, Tony and Josh explore possibilities in and out of the bedroom, but when each man faces a difficult choice, they must decide on the future -- together, or apart.

Excerpt:
Josh looked out across the desert vista. Tony followed his gaze. The sun had dropped behind the mountains, silhouetting them against a purple velvet backdrop streaked with ribbons of red. As the colors deepened, Tony poured himself and his guest a second glass of wine. In silence, they watched the bright star of Venus blink to life, while the crescent moon turned a fiery shade of orange.

“We’ve shared one sunrise and one sunset,” Josh said. “What’s next?”

“Meteor shower?” Tony joked.

Josh’s laughter chimed in the cool evening air. He sobered and looked at Tony, point-blank, his face shadowed alluringly in the soft twilight glow. “I meant, what’s next now that dinner’s over?”

Tony shifted in his seat. What’s next indeed? “How late can you stay?”

“A while.” Josh shrugged, but his gaze grew more intent. He downed his last sip of wine and set his glass beside his empty plate.

Tony wondered if the wine had bolstered the boy’s bravado. He finished his own, letting the final sip linger on his tongue. As bad as he wanted to get in Josh’s pants, he didn’t want it courtesy of an alcohol buzz.

He scooted his chair back and rose. He held out his hand. “Let’s go inside.”

Josh’s fingers wrapped warmly around Tony’s palm. The current that had been growing between them thrummed stronger. Josh stood, and their bodies drew close, just shy of contact.

Tony’s lips hovered over the other man’s mouth. The promise of a kiss was enough to send pleasant tremors down his spine. He pulled back an inch, realizing he wanted to savor the buildup a little longer.

“What’s stopping you?” Josh murmured, his breath sweet with the scent of the vine.

“You’re the first since…”

“Your ex?”

Tony nodded.

“It’s okay,” Josh said, squeezing his hand. “I have all night.”

“Me, too.” Tony turned and led Josh inside. The dishes could wait.

*****
Excerpt from Sonoran Heat
Copyright 2010 by Katrina Strauss
Coming September 5th from Amber Allure!
*****

Sneak peek of Inestimable Blessings

Here's a sneak peek of my upcoming release, Inestimable Blessings.

Lee Calder’s life is right on track. He has a small circle of close friends, a career he loves, and a baby on the way via a surrogate. Mr. Right is nowhere to be found, but Lee isn’t about to let that little tidbit rain on his parade. He’s more than willing to thrust his other needs aside and focus on fulfilling his lifelong dream of being a father.

With his love life in the gutter, Lee turns to fantasies of his hunky neighbor, Finn Alexander. His daydreaming is merely a harmless diversion until Finn comes to Lee’s rescue on a dark and stormy night.

To Lee’s surprise, the chemistry they shared in his imagination is nothing compared to the real thing. Finn is as hot between the sheets as Lee always envisioned. Better still, they get along famously outside the bedroom. The only things standing in the way of Lee having it all are the bundle of joy due any minute and Finn’s apparent aversion to children.

Excerpt

Lee hustled into Peckers Bar and Grill and cast a frantic glance around for his friends. Spotting them off to the left in the corner booth toward the back of the room, he waved and hurried over, conscious of the fact that he was once again late for their weekly powwow. He smiled as he slid into the booth beside Ted, opposite Jimmy and Sal. “Sorry I’m late. The snow made traffic hell between here and Asheville.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Jimmy picked up the pitcher of beer sitting in the middle of the table, filled another glass, and slid it across the table toward Lee. “At least you made it before the first pitcher disappeared this time.”

Lee caught the glass, making foam slosh over the rim and spill on his hand. He lifted it and brought the rim to his mouth, taking a small sip. “Thanks.”

“So”—Jimmy leaned in over the table—“how’d it go?”

“Things were fine.” Lee tried his best to tamp down his enthusiasm. One or the other of his friends was always giving him hell for hiring a surrogate, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to any negativity, not when he’d just spent the day with Dawn.

Ted pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his narrow nose. “Just fine? That’s the best you can do?”

“All right.” Lee beamed at Ted. Thank goodness he had at least one buddy on his side. While he’d known Ted a shorter duration than Sal and Jimmy, both of whom he’d gone to college with, he and Ted shared a love of children. Whereas Lee had never given up on having kids of his own, Ted never dared to dream that high. Instead, he taught English at the local high school. “Well, since you asked and all, today was fabulous. I went to Dawn’s OB/GYN appointment and got to see the baby again. My little peanut has grown to about the size of a honeydew melon, if you can believe it. The doc says he or she is about four or five pounds now—which explains why Dawn’s belly is so huge. The whole day was just amazing. Really, really amazing.”

Sal groaned. “You just had to get him started on the procreation issue, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy added. “Now he’ll never shut up about vaginas and uteruses and fetuses, oh my!”

Ted snickered. “I don’t know, buddy. I think it’s great that you’re going through with having a kid of your own, but they kind of have you pegged.”

Lee rolled his eyes and took another long gulp from his glass before he bothered to respond. “I’m not that bad.”

“Dude,” Sal exclaimed, waving his hands, “last week you brought the week-by-week pregnancy book and tried to show us the diagrams. That shit is disgusting. If I wanted to know about the female reproductive system, then I would fuck women.”

“Come on, guys.” Lee looked as his friends and tried to will them to see things his way. “I admit I may go a little overboard sometimes, but this is a huge event for me. I’m going to be a dad. Can’t you be just a little happy and supportive?” God knew he had supported them through one drama after another, from helping them get rid of manipulative boyfriends to lending a hand to retrieve toys lost in orifices Lee could’ve gone his entire life without exploring.

“Oh honey.” Ted patted Lee’s thigh. “I’m totally happy for you.”

“So am I,” Sal added. “I think it’s great that you want to spit in the eye of convention and do your own thing.”

Jimmy lifted his beer. “I support you too. I just don’t necessarily want to hear all the gory details.” He nodded, as if to cement his statement, then chugged back half a glass of beer.

“Hear, hear.” Sal clinked glasses with Jimmy. Then both men turned their glasses up and drained the contents.

Lee shook his head and smiled in amusement. Some things never changed. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were still in their early twenties instead of verging on middle-aged. “Well, I’m starved. Who wants to split an order of hot wings and cheese fries?”

“That would work.” Ted waved over the server. “I could use something to help soak up the alcohol.”

Lee placed the order for what he wanted, remembering to ask for extra ranch dressing and the blue cheese Ted preferred. Sal and Jimmy ordered a second pitcher of light beer and a plate of nachos. While they waited for their appetizers to arrive, the men caught each other up on what was new in their lives.

Before the other men could get a word in edgewise, Jimmy launched into tale about how his latest trick left him.

“Can you believe Biff said that I was shallow? Me?” Jimmy’s narrow and overly waxed blond brows rose to a comical level.

Lee snorted. “Personally, I can’t believe you were sleeping with someone named Biff. Who would hate their kid enough to name them something so ridiculous?” In spite of himself, the sound of Jimmy’s nasal voice shrieking “oh, Biff, harder Biff” popped into Lee’s mind and sent him into a round of totally inappropriate laughter that had all his friends staring at him like he was crazy.

He waved away their questioning looks. “It’s nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something that happened earlier.”

“Uh-huh.” Sal wadded up his drink napkin and threw it at Lee. “If you’ve been smokin’ the good stuff, the least you could’ve done is share with the rest of us.”

“As if.” Lee rolled his eyes. “I haven’t touched anything of the sort.”

“That’s probably what’s wrong with you,” Sal replied. “You need to loosen up a little.”

“Or get laid,” Jimmy added. “When was the last time you sat on a big fat one?”

Ted groaned. “Could you be any more crude?”

“Thank you,” Lee said. Some things just didn’t need to be discussed in public.

Jimmy leaned forward. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Sal laughed. “Please do. I want to hear this.”

“Fine. It’s been a while. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Yes.” Jimmy nodded. “Just once I’d like to hear about you scoring some tail. I know you. You can’t be happy all by your lonesome, with nothing to keep your bed warm except your hand and fantasies about your hunky neighbor.”

“I have so much happening right now. I don’t need the added drama of a boyfriend.” He had a life plan, damn it, and he didn’t need a man to help him make all his dreams a reality. A lover would be nice—he wouldn’t lie about that—but he was satisfied on his own.

Jimmy chuckled. “Who said anything about a boyfriend?”

“I want to hear more about Mr. Hunky.” Sal rolled his beer glass between his palms. “Just how good-looking are we talking here? And more importantly, is he gay?”

“Spare me.” Lee shot Sal a dirty look. “The last time I checked, you’re the only one of us with a steady lover. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. He’s just some guy who moved into the house next door a few months ago.”

“Oh come on,” Sal said. “You have to do better than that.”

A spectacular lie was on the tip of Lee’s tongue when the server arrived with their order and saved him from answering. Rather than give him any more hell, his buddies discarded the conversation in favor of tucking into the grub. Lee was thankful. He didn’t need any more reminders of how much better his life would be if he had someone special to share it with.

Coming Soon: Just a Game

Oh, lookie, its my day. Well, for once I'm prepared. Got a short story coming from Cobblestone in November. So, I brought the sexy cover for y'all to ogle and a snip.

Enjoy :)




“What’s so wrong with getting a flight tomorrow again?” There was a quiet...something in Sid’s voice that made Charlie’s spine shudder.

Charlie thumped his head against the glass and almost jumped out of his skin when lightning zigzagged across the sky, illuminating the gray world outside. “Shit,” he hissed, blinking away the edge of white dancing around his vision. “I just have a schedule.” Charlie tossed the words in Sid’s general direction. “We handle the surfboard people out here, get home tonight, and then start wearing down that ditzy heiress-turned-fashion designer tomorrow.”

Charlie didn’t need to see Sid’s face to know his mouth had twisted in that familiar smirk.

Sid’s voice rang with barely leashed mockery. “For someone who makes a living pulling ideas out of his ass, you’re awfully worried about something so easily adjusted.”

Charlie’s shoulders went tight no matter how hard he tried to keep them from doing so. “Don’t do this, Sid.”

“Don’t do what?”

The sound of feet thumping carpet should not have been so loud. Charlie stared hard out the window as Sid’s heat eased closer. This time, he didn’t jump when lightning flashed, but that could have been because Sid’s mouth was dangerously close to his ear and Charlie had gone blind to the chaos outside. Instead, he watched Sid’s reflection close in. The room’s light threw them into a slight shadow, but he knew that face well enough without illumination.

“Don’t follow your little rules anymore? This self-imposed fucking distance? Guess what, Charlie boy. You can’t run away in a hotel room.” There was a nasty smile wrapped in Sid’s words as he drove in the fact that Charlie had been so desperate to ignore. “You can’t run away at all anymore.”

Fuck.

Forsake Not by Maura Anderson (Unedited Excerpt)

This is a new story, to come soon from Aspen Mountain Press as part of it's Because of the Brave anthology. I don't have a release date yet but will update you when I do.

---------------------------------------
FORSAKE NOT
by Maura Anderson

Leo watched the roiling grey clouds move overhead and clenched his hands on the steering wheel of the small rental car, savoring the ache of his bruised and torn knuckles. His world, or what was left of it, was poised to tumble down around his head but he couldn’t find it in him to regret beating the crap out of Barker. The bigoted asshole deserved it, or worse, for what he’d said about Terry.

Terry.

Nausea rose in his throat and he fought it back. He would not puke in the parking lot at Arlington, dammit. He’d come here to pay his respects and he would do his goddam duty and do it right. It was the least he could do for his fellow soldier, his fire-team mate, his best friend — the man who’d given his life for those of the rest of the squad. After two tours in Iraq and less than three months before they were done with this tour and all Hell cut loose in a rain of blood, shrapnel and shards of bone during a routine op.

One by one, he forced his fingers to uncurl and release from the steering wheel. He wiped his sweaty palms on the stiff denim of his new jeans and took a few deep breaths to steady himself before he cracked the door open. The heat of the mid-summer Virginia day rushing into the car, quickly overwhelming the chill of the air conditioned interior. The humidity made it a lot harder to breathe than the dry heat of the middle east, even though it was cooler here. He was glad he’d decided not to wear his Class A’s or a suit. Just the long-sleeve dress shirt would be hot enough.

The smells were different, too. Gone were the rancid smells of the desert, the base, the machinery and even his fellow infantrymen. Instead his lungs filled with the scent of new-mown grass and the nearby river.

Leo climbed out of the car and quietly shut the door behind him. It seemed disrespectful to slam the car door in this place. The car locked and double-checked, he threw his shoulders back and began the long walk to Terry.

The now ingrained walking cadence mindlessly carried him forward and allowed for far too much time to think. To remember. He passed other people but carefully avoided looking at them. What could he say? What would they say? He couldn’t deal with other people right now - he wasn’t sure he could deal with himself right now.

The weight of those he walked among seemed huge. The true meaning of freedom and its cost exposed through the acres and acres of graves that stretched over the grounds of Arlington. Each one paid a heavy price - some by choice, some not. What would they think of what he’d done? Of what he was? Of the lies he’d told to be allowed to continue his service to the country he loved?

All too quickly, he reached the round brass marker that indicated Section 60. He stepped carefully between the ranks of the graves, treading as lightly as he could among the fallen. In the next to last row, he spotted the name he sought.

“Terrence Ray Olson.” His whisper was the last straw and he fell to his knees in the soft grass next to the grave. The white marble marker made it so final. His gut churned again at the memory of the last time he saw Terry, bloody and torn apart by the IED he’d thrown himself on top. He’d been the first to Terry and when he’d turned him over to start first aid, his head had almost fallen off.

Bitter bile filled his mouth as he fought back the urge to puke.

“I’m sorry, Terry.” His voice strengthened a bit. “You saved us all and I couldn’t do a damned thing for you.”

He rubbed his hands on his legs again. He kept feeling the blood coating them, no matter how long it had been or how often he’d scrubbed them.

The tombstone was gleamingly new, stark white with precise black letters spelling out Terry’s information, including the medals he’d been posthumously awarded. Such a few words to encapsulate a life. Part of a life, anyway. The part the military recognized. A few small momentos sat atop the marble stone.

“I made a big mistake, man, and I think I’m in deep shit now.”

He settled down cross-legged in the grass by Terry and bowed his head to speak quietly to where he imagined Terry might hear him. “Barker is such a fucker. He got assigned to our fireteam, on entry, after you were… killed. Shithead couldn’t see a haji if he was wearing neon robes and dancing in the middle of the road waving an AK-47.”

He plucked a few blades of grass near his knee and tore them slowly to bits. The scabs on his knuckles pulled with the motion. “He can’t even do his damned job. Instead he spends all his time hating on everyone else. I kept trying to just do what I’ve always done and stick to doing my job and ignoring Barker whenever I can. The man would make a much better FOBBIT. At least there he wouldn’t be as much of a liability.”

Leo tossed the shredded grass to the side and plucked some more. “He keeps going on about fags and queers. On and on and on. When we got home, I went out for a drink with the squad before we all went on R&R and someone told him you were gay. When he started talking about how you deserved to die for being a fag, I lost it.”

He caught himself picking at the scabs on his knuckles and forced himself to stop. He didn’t need some sort of infection on top of everything else.

“I jumped him, Terry. Went right over two other guys and started swinging. I don’t remember a lot about the fight itself, just that Barker fights like a fucking girl. Star and Helling pulled me off him and I remember asking him how it felt to have the crap beat out of him by a fucking fag.” Leo sighed and shook his head. How stupid could he be. His entire career in exchange for a brief moment of vengeance?

“There’s no way he won’t report it, Terry. No way in Hell.”

A huge hand seemed to grab his chest and crush it. What was he going to do? It wasn’t as if some of the squad didn’t know he and Terry were gay. It had just never been an issue. They put on a good show of being straight, everyone else made a show of believing it and they all did their damned jobs.

Memories flooded through him of the two tours they’d shared and their friendship. Funny moments, scary moments, even nights on a pass when they were unable to sleep and instead shared their tales of home, growing up gay and how they coped with the Army regulations. Each moment seemed to replay itself.

“Excuse me. Sir? Excuse me.” His head jerked up at the sound of the quiet voice. A thin, sad-looking woman stood on the other side of Terry’s grave, looking at him with swollen, red eyes and a tentative smile. “The cemetery closes at seven and it’s 6:30. I didn’t want you to be interrupted by the guards instead.”

“Thank you.” His voice choked up and he cleared his throat to try again. “Thank you. I’ll wrap it up for today.”

The thin woman nodded and caressed Terry’s cold, polished headstone with one hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She turned and slowly walked away, shoulders slumped with the weight of her own grief.

Leo knelt and ran his fingers gently over Terry’s name. “I miss you, bud. Thank you for what you did. You saved my life, you saved all our lives.” Tears welled up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to hold them back. “I brought you something.”

Coming to his feet, he examined the items on top of the headstone. A small pile of pebbles gathered on one side, flanked by two glass pebbles but next to those was a set of rubber edged dogtags, facedown on the marble and still on their chain. Curious, he flipped them over and saw they belonged to a Skinner, William R., USMC. The social security number had been carefully cut out of the tags but they were worn and dinged up. They’d seen use.

He carefully placed them back as he’d found them and reached into his pocket for the challenge coin he’d brought for Terry. The heavy brass disk had the Army Emblem on one side and the crossed rifles of the Infantry on the other. He’d carried it since he’d decided to enlist as a teen but after Terry died, he’d bought another for himself so he could give his friend this one.

Caressing the enameled coin one more time, he set it on top of the headstone to join the other tokens. “I forsake not my country, my mission, my comrades, my sacred duty.” His voice choked out the final words. Unable to continue, he snapped a salute and turned to make his way back to his car.

World Domination via Cover Awards, and other filler

If you're in the Norfolk, Virginia area this afternoon, I hope you'll fight your way through the MacArthur Mall to the Barnes and Noble. I'll be signing books and handing out free chocolate. Mistletoe is extra. I'm group signing with a number of Phaze authors, and hopefully finding a good lap afterward for revealing my wishlist.

It's my personal goal to see that Phaze Books wins every GLBT Ariana award from here on out. We won last year for L.E. Bryce's Dead to the World, and this year it was for L.E.'s The Water Lovers of Sirilon, which I think is even better, and I'm speaking as the one who designed the first cover. To think, too, the Arianas are judged just on the front graphic. You should see the full wrap of the print version of Sirilon:

I don't know how we're going to top that next year, but I think we have a good start. These covers haven't made the publisher site yet, but there are number of great M/M titles to look forward to in 2009:

Two very different stories, each with a fitting, lovely cover. 2050 is a futuristic suspense with some paranormal elements added - very tense but powerful. Conflict is a Civil War era drama, the sequel to Woods' Cane. Looking forward to both of these.

Sneak peek of The Hard Truth

Good morning, folks. I'm eyeballs deep in deadlines this morning, so I thought I would drop a sneak peek of my next release, The Hard Truth to entertain you. The Hard Truth is the much anticpated sequel to Secrets & Lies, which debuts at Loose Id on January 20th. Hope you all enjoy this first glimpse of Cadge and Red's tale.

*

An Excerpt from Amanda Young’s The Hard Truth
© Amanda Young, All Rights Reserved

Red stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The plush blue carpet and beige silk décor melted away as his gaze zeroed in on the naked splendor of the only man he’d ever loved.

Cadge stood facing the window. The way he held himself -- the inward turn of his broad shoulders and the downward-tilted angle of his proud chin -- screamed of discontent. Silver moonlight illuminated his bare chest and shoulders in dim light. Shadows clung to his muscular back and long, athletic legs. The rounded curve of his buttocks and the shaded dip between groin and thigh teased Red with what he couldn’t make out -- what he desperately wanted to see and touch. And taste.

Without any prompting, his feet carried him across the room and into the open doorway between the sitting room and bedroom. His body clamored for him to move closer, his balls tight from no more than a glimpse of Cadge’s nudity.

“I’m not complaining,” Red said. “But why are you naked?” It wasn’t everyday he got to see the object of his fantasies come to life. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Cadge in nothing but skin.

No, that isn’t exactly true. He could recall the last time, although he hadn’t been able to take the time to fully appreciate the view.

Close to a decade earlier, not long before Cadge had hooked up with Adrian, they’d had quick and dirty sex in an alley outside of a pub in London to celebrate Red’s promotion to head regulator. They wouldn’t have been together then if they hadn’t both been drunk off their asses on blood laced with opium. The entire encounter had lasted less than twenty minutes, and they hadn’t even gotten completely naked. Thanks to a lack of lube, Red’s ass had burned and ached for hours, but he hadn’t regretted a single second of the encounter. Cadge never said a word about it afterward. Red wasn’t entirely sure he even remembered it.

Cadge shrugged. “I took a shower and didn’t have anything clean to put on.”

“I’m sorry, Cadge. I forgot all of your things are still in the SUV. I’ll have to get them out for you.”

“What difference does it make?” Cadge questioned, without turning away from the window. “Isn’t this what you want? Me, vulnerable and at your mercy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Red wasn’t sure how to take Cadge’s offhand comment, so he let it go. Cadge had always been a little flippant, even in the best of times, and he had to be stressed out after everything that had happened in the last week. Not to mention the little show downstairs.

Red’s arms itched to enfold Cadge and smooth away the other man’s worry. He wanted to hold Cadge close and promise him everything would be okay. Maybe if he meant it from the bottom of his heart and tried his hardest to convince Cadge, he’d be able to believe it himself.

“Do you want to talk about whatever’s eating you?” He stepped behind Cadge and wrapped his arms around him, placing his own forearms underneath the hard ridge of Cadge’s where they crossed under his heart. “If you’re worried about the meeting, you shouldn’t be. The council is always a bit stuffy.”

“It isn’t that.”

“What is it, then?” Red inhaled the musky scent of Cadge skin, the slightly fruity scent of soap and shampoo, and fought like hell to resist the urge to bury his face in the shinning waves of Cadge’s dark hair. An embrace was one thing; sniffing Cadge like a rutting dog was another. He couldn’t help the hard-on pressing against Cadge’s ass. It was a product easily explained away by lust. Red didn’t mind letting Cadge think he was hot for his body; he couldn’t stomach revealing the depths of his feelings. He could take having his sexual advances rebuffed. Having his heart stomped was another matter.

Cadge’s pulse picked up. Red could hear it beating hard and fast, the blood pumping through veins and arteries in a fast rush of sweet, succulent life. His gums tingled from the mere thought of being able to taste the other man’s essence burst over his tongue.

Before he realized he was moving, Red’s mouth was pressed tight against the velvety skin of Cadge’s throat. Cadge’s pulse thundered against Red’s lips, egging him to take what he craved, to sink his teeth into Cadge’s flesh and drink. His glanced down over Cadge’s shoulder and watched the rise and fall of firm pectorals. The proof of Cadge’s desire jutted from his groin, stiff and heavily veined. The thick shaft bowed under its own exceptional girth, the swollen head ripe with juice that caught the dim light and glistened like manna from Heaven. Red’s mouth watered against Cadge’s neck.

Cadge cleared his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Red pinched his eyes closed. He brushed his lips over Cadge’s jugular in a gentle kiss, trying to make it seem as if that had been his intention all along, and lifted his head.

Cadge’s chest rose and fell, although he remained perfectly still otherwise. “Let go.”

“Why?” Red loosened his grip on Cadge and ran his hand down the cobbled surface of the other man’s abs toward the hard staff between his legs. “You obviously like it.”

“Just because my cock gets hard for you doesn’t mean I want your hands on me.”

“I would say that’s exactly what it means.” Feeling brave, Red clasped the base of Cadge’s dick and gave it a squeeze. He’d come this far. He may as well do what he wanted. “Why don’t you quit playing hard to get and give us what we both want? It’s just sex.” He dropped his other hand and cupped the heavy weight of Cadge’s balls. “It doesn’t have to mean anything more than two friends helping each other out, and it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

Cadge jerked his shoulders, breaking Red’s hold on him, and walked out of the room without a word. Red followed, his gaze drawn to the firm mounds of Cadge’s ass as it flexed with each step. What he wouldn’t give to bury himself balls deep between those succulent cheeks, to hear his name spill from Cadge’s lips in pleasure. Making love to Cadge, their panting, writhing bodies locked as one, was the closest thing to a homecoming he could imagine.

It was a damn shame Cadge didn’t feel the same way.

A sneak peek at ALL SHOOK UP

My next novella from Amber Allure will be published July 13th. Here's a sneak peek at All Shook Up.

BLURB:
The year is 1883. Eduard van De Lier is a Dutchman overseeing a spice plantation on the island of Java, in the South Pacific. His obsessive attraction to dark-skinned men is just one of his many secrets. His wife Marien knows of his indiscretions, but as she's content with their Colonial lifestyle, she stays silent.

Until a former lover of Eduard's shows up in their parlor with thoughts of blackmail.

Reza was a crewman on the ship that brought the van De Liers to Java. During the passage, Eduard spent many a night in the younger man's arms. Two years have passed, and the last person Eduard expects to find in his drawing room is Reza, a letter in hand that could destroy the life he and Marien lead.

Seeing him again ignites Eduard's lust for his first dark lover. He hopes to retrieve the letter, either through seduction or subterfuge, and the longer Reza eludes him, the more his desire grows. But they're on shaky ground, and before things can heat up between them, their world explodes ~ literally ~ when the unstable island of Krakatoa erupts.

EXCERPT:
Eduard entered the drawing room, carefully closing the doors behind him. "Good day to you, sir." He gave the man a slight bow, which earned him a nod from the stranger. "I do apologize for the delay. I was attending to household drudgery. I'll not bore you with the details."

When the man spoke, his deep voice rumbled through the room. "Dealing with a servant, perhaps?" Eduard's eyes widened, and the man chuckled. The sound was like thunder, sending shivers of delight down Eduard's spine. "They all speak so highly of you. Word on the street is you're more than generous with your ... affections."

The suggestive way he said the word made Eduard grin. At least he wouldn't have to dance around the issue with this one. Motioning to a sidebar near the fireplace, Eduard asked, "May I get you a drink, mister ..." He gave an affected laugh and dared to wink at his guest. "Mercy, where are my manners? We've not been properly introduced. I am Eduard van De Lier, Hollander."

The stranger's slight smile didn't fade as he watched Eduard give him another bow, this one a bit sharper than the last. But he didn't take the bait, and didn't bother to introduce himself. After a long moment, Eduard prompted, "And you are?"

Though the smile stayed in place, some of the light in the stranger's dark eyes died, hardening his gaze. "Do you not know me?"

"Surely a man such as yourself is hard to forget," Eduard countered.

It wasn't an answer, but it bought him some time. He studied the man as he tried to think. Did he know him? Should he?

"Perhaps this will refresh your memory." The stranger reached into a side pocket on his pants.

For one breathless moment, Eduard dared to hope the man would ease the fabric aside, allowing him a glimpse of the thick cock Eduard imagined hidden beneath. Though he doubted he'd know the man by his assets alone, he'd gladly fall to his knees before him, move the rest of the material out of the way, and take whatever length the stranger offered into his mouth. His interrupted libido stirred to life again, and adrenaline shot through his veins like a heady drug. He was addicted to other men, and since settling in Java, native skin had become his obsession. "This room is so open," he said, his gaze never leaving that hand in the pocket or the front of the stranger's pale pants. "Perhaps we could retire to my chambers ..."

But the man only extracted a bit of parchment, nothing else, and Eduard felt his disappointment catch in the back of his throat as he watched the stranger unfold the paper. Amid the folds, he saw a seal he thought he recognized, and his heart stopped. "No," he whispered. It couldn't be.

Unconsciously he drifted nearer, drawn by the page in the stranger's large hands. When it was completely unfolded, the man held it up for Eduard to read, the paper stretched open in front of him. The flowing script was familiar, and if Eduard closed his eyes, he knew he could probably recite the words written in fading ink without hesitation. It was a letter he'd last seen two years earlier, during the sea voyage that brought him and Marien to this part of the world. A letter he'd thought destroyed. He had read it, and reread it, hope rising within him at the implications, the opportunity presented, and then he'd copied it, meticulous, angling his handwriting to mirror that of the original letter writer. He could vividly recall the candle flickering low across the wooden desk where he sat, hunched over two pieces of parchment. The sway of the ship beneath him, which made his hand unsteady and his progress slow. The rustle of sheets on the bed behind him, and a low voice that still managed to startle him, coming as it did from such a young, slim man. "Are you not finished yet? I'm bored ..."

The voice resonated through Eduard's memory, attaching itself to a name. With difficulty, he raised his gaze from the paper to look at that face again ~ the haughty facial structure, the fleshy lips, the deep-set eyes. A few years had passed, strengthening the features, and the once-idolizing eyes were now harsh, calculating. Softly, Eduard murmured, "Reza?"

Coming July 13, 2008
All Shook Up by J.M. Snyder

A Bevy of Releases

With a total of six new releases this month, May has been busy for me ... and this past weekend moreso than usual! Here's a look at what's out now, and a sneak peek at what will be published next weekend.

Working Man Book 9: Speed Trap
When Mark Peters is stopped for speeding, patrol officer Lt. W. V. Tench lets him off with just a warning. Now Mark can’t get the sexy cop out of his mind. When his friends jokingly suggest he drive around until he gets pulled over again, Mark thinks that’s a great idea.

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

Some Gave All
Stories by four very different authors in honor of those who made the ultimate sacrifice for God and country. My story, "For the Boys," is the only gay romance. Set during the Korean conflict, it's a story about a young Army warrant officer who falls in love with a USO performer.

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

Before the Show
A college student by day, drag queen by night, Devin Elliot loves his job. Chuck works as a bouncer at the club where Devin performs, and he has it bad for the hot drag queen. Nothing turns him on more than watching his boyfriend become Devine.

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

Forever After
Visit two very different worlds where love conquers all. Forever After is for readers of speculative fiction who enjoy stories in which love prevails, whether in a dystopic future or a distant fantasy land! Contains two e-book novellas, Persistence of Memory and The Regent's Knight.

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

The Positions of Love Book 6: Cowboy Position
Matt diLorenzo has a secret fetish ~ he loves to watch a man eat. Good thing his lover Vic Braunson has a voracious appetite. hen Vic finds out just how turned on Matt can get watching him eat, he suggests they share a quiet, indoor picnic. Something sinfully sexy, for just the two of them.

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

With This Ring
Matt's ex, Jordan, confesses all to a tabloid, telling the world Matt's secret ~ something in his semen gives his sexual partners super powers. After the article appears, Matt receives a call from a research scientist at a condom factory who claims to have a solution to his little "problem."

Read an excerpt on my site, or buy your copy today!

First look at "Conflict of Interest"

On Saturday, my first novella length story with Torquere Press will be published. Conflict of Interest is one of my favorite stories. When Alex Hitchner signs up to volunteer at a local youth shelter, he is not prepared to be introduced to Jamie Owens, an 18 year old boy with a bad attitude. Just two years younger than Alex, Jamie is nervy, precocious, and damn sexy, to boot.

But Alex sees himself as a mentor to Jamie, someone to look up to, someone to prove to the kid that being a gay man does not mean casual sex in crowded clubs. He tries to keep his distance, both physically and emotionally, but Jamie becomes a part of his life in a way Alex doesn't expect. Alex must choose between giving into his desires or leaving the program ~ and Jamie ~ behind.

EXCERPT:

When Alex pulled into the parking lot of a downtown deli, Jamie jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop and stretched languidly like an animal just released from a cage. As he climbed out of the car, Alex noticed a few people nearby glaring at Jamie's torn shirt. It may have fit in back at the shelter, but here it made Jamie look like a punk. Opening the trunk, Alex pulled out a heavy flannel shirt his roommate had left in there. "Here," he said, holding the shirt out to Jamie. "Put this on."

Jamie frowned. "I don't want to."

"Jamie," Alex warned. In his mind he could already see the scene Jamie would make when they entered the deli, only to be turned away because of Jamie's raggedy tank top.

But Jamie shook his head. "It's too hot for that. I'm not wearing it." To prove his point, he crossed his arms and leaned against the car. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

"It's torn," Alex pointed out, as if Jamie didn't know. "You look like a bum."

"I like the way I look," Jamie glared at an older woman who edged by them on her way into the deli. "What's your problem, bitch?"

The woman turned away quickly and kept walking. "Jamie, stop it," Alex hissed. "You can't go in there wearing that shirt. They won't serve you."

"Well I'm not wearing that," he said, nodding at the flannel shirt in Alex's hand. "Let's just go to McDonald's or something, okay? A drive-thru somewhere, eat in the car." With a wink he added, "I'm a cheap date. I don't mind fast food."

Try to do something nice, Alex thought with a sigh, tossing the shirt back into the trunk. He dug through blankets and empty plastic grocery bags until he found an old T-shirt of his. The cotton was faded and worn but in one piece at least, and he held it out to Jamie. "How about this?"

After a long moment, Jamie took the shirt. "This yours?" he asked, holding it up. It was short sleeved and thin ~ Alex waited to hear his excuse for not wanting to put it on.

"Yeah," Alex said as he watched Jamie study the shirt. "It's been in the trunk for a while but it's clean. Are you going to wear it or not?"

"I'll wear it," Jamie said.

Before Alex could say anything else he stripped off his tank top, pulling the torn fabric up over his head. Alex found himself staring at the muscles along Jamie's chest, the golden skin so heavily freckled, he looked perpetually tanned. Alex shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching the boy ~ he could imagine what those hard nipples would feel like beneath his fingers, the way the thick gold chain that hung around Jamie's neck would look pooled into the hollow of his throat, the way the ridge of Jamie's collarbone would feel between his teeth. God ...

Then Jamie pulled on the T-shirt, hiding the freckled muscles from view, and Alex managed to look away. "It's kind of snug," Jamie said, flexing his arms. Alex heard the tiny sound of a seam rip, and Jamie laughed. "I like it."

"You would," Alex muttered. He pointed into the trunk and Jamie tossed his tank top inside before Alex slammed it shut. "You look much better."

"Do you think so?" Jamie asked.

When Alex nodded, Jamie unzipped his jeans. "Jamie!" Alex cried, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," he said with a wink, stuffing the T-shirt into the waistband of his jeans. "I ain't taking it all off. Much as you'd like to see it, I'm sure."

"Jamie ..." Alex closed his eyes as Jamie's hand smoothed the shirt down flat over the bulge that poked through the open zipper, but not before catching a glimpse of light red hair that trailed into his briefs as if pointing the way. Why couldn't this be easy? "Jesus."

He heard Jamie take a step closer, and then he felt hot breath along his neck as Jamie moaned softly into his ear, the sound accompanied by the quiet hiss of the zipper. Alex could feel the press of metal against that budding erection as Jamie zipped up his jeans, and in his pockets his hands clenched into fists, nails eating into his palms because he wasn't going to touch this boy, he wasn't going to let him get under his skin. Too late, his mind whispered as Jamie sighed, and Alex could smell the sharp scent of his sweat when he drew in a shaky breath. "You can look now," Jamie breathed. "I'm decent."

Excerpt: Live Action Hero 1 Mission: Carnal

Live Action Hero 1- Mission: Carnal
Mary Winter
M/M Urban Fantasy
RELEASE DATE: February 29, 2008
Changeling Press
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=816

BLURB:
Adrian turned his passion for action figures into a thriving comic shop, The Fantastic Five. After spending most of his life in the world of super heroes and aliens, he’s not surprised when the action figure he’s repairing comes to life. He’s more surprised by the instant attraction he feels to the man—and the fact that it’s mutual. These guys are supposed to be Real American heroes. But right now, Adrian wants him to be his hero.
Mack’s waited a long time for a reward. He’s come back wounded from a brutal mission, but the Toymaker upstairs promised him a new life and a new mission. When Adrian repairs his broken body, his gentle touch also repairs Mack’s broken heart. Now it’s Mack’s turn to repay Adrian, by teaching him about living your wildest fantasies and making your dreams come true.
EXCERPT:
Adrian blinked as the numbers on the spreadsheet blurred. Automatically, he reached for his tepid mug of coffee, wincing at its chill. He’d calculated the numbers backwards and forwards, not liking the decline they showed. Just past January first, he should have showed a boost in fourth quarter sales. After all, they had the holidays, then the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day to spend holiday money. Comics had been flying off the shelves. Several hot new releases had patrons queuing in line even before The Fantastic Five had opened.

Adrian shook his head. He rose to his feet, his gaze catching, as it often did, on the broken action figure sitting on the corner of his desk. The man sat there, his feet lost probably during some child’s “battle”. One hand had been almost torn from its wrist. Looking at it, he couldn’t tell, but Adrian knew if he picked up the figure, started to move the jointed limbs, he’d find the tear. He’d intended to start working on it tonight.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, then smiled when he realized he spoke to a toy.

Adrian stood. He reached for his mug, not quite able to pull his attention from the figure. Adrian had found this toy in a box at a garage sale a few blocks over while out on his run. Although the figure had a production date in the mid-nineties, something about the toy had drawn Adrian. Normally, he wasn’t overly fond of the modern figures.

The plastic soldier sat there, stubble covering his cheeks and jaw. It gave him a surly look, as if he were a grizzled soldier who barked orders at his men all day. Short, dark brown hair was cut with military precision. His brows were dark slashes over his piercing blue eyes. Broad shoulders, perfectly muscled body, he looked like the real American hero his now long-gone packaging had declared him to be.

“As soon as I get through these numbers I’ll take care of you.” Adrian frowned at his nearly-empty mug. The clock on his computer told him it was after ten pm. Way too late to continue the caffeine drip he’d been on all day. If only he could pinpoint the source of the store’s drop in earnings. Then, he’d have some answers for his friends and partners.

Not that they needed them. Dean would be leaving for a windsurfing vacation tomorrow. Van and Hugh trusted him with the day-to-day operations of the store. Hugh worked on marketing and promotion. Van provided legal assistance and spent a lot of his time scouring for action figures to restore. The Field Medic operated as a subdivision of their store restoring vintage and modern action figures.

With a shake of his head, Adrian went to the kitchen. Moments later he returned with a cold bottle of water.

“Forget about the numbers,” a whisky-rough voice said in his mind.

Adrian stared at the figure. He’d been known to make jokes about what toys would say if they were real. But this was real enough as to be spooky. The voice sounded exactly like he guessed the toy would sound, a kind of Tommy Lee Jones commanding tone that always made Adrian’s cock stand at attention. He debated about answering, but decided what the hell, he was only talking to a toy. No one needed to know. “I’d like to,” he replied. “Then again, if you were real, there are a lot of things I’d like to do.”

Adrian allowed his mind to wander, imagining the figure as a real flesh and blood man. He figured he slipped deeper into a sex-deprived insanity with his musings, but it’d been ages since he’d been laid. Adrian knew he would drag his fingers through the man’s silken hair. The figure’s broad chest demanded an exploration with lips and fingers. Long, muscled legs and a tight ass. Just thinking about how he would look had Adrian’s cock hardening. He reached down and cupped his hand over it. His erection strained the denim.

“What do you want to do?” That gravelly voice filled his head again.

Adrian wanted to put those lips to better use. He shook his head. Damn it, he had numbers to go over and a plan to create. He didn’t have time for idle fantasies.

“Give me half an hour, all right?” Adrian arched an eyebrow at the mute figure.

“All right,” the voice barked back.

Adrian gulped half the water bottle down. Capping it, he turned away from the figure that had possessed so much of his thoughts. He should be focusing on his business. He must be losing it if he were having a fake conversation with a broken action figure. Rubbing his eyes, he vowed he’d get through these numbers come hell or high water. Or the distractions of a certain action figure sitting on the corner of his desk.

What he needed was to get laid. His dick swelled just thinking about a wet, willing mouth. The heavy length of a tongue stroking him, watching a man hollow his cheeks as he sucked hard. Adrian sighed. Yeah, that was exactly what he needed.

“Me, too, man,” the gravelly voice replied.

“Will you stop it?” Adrian asked. He snarled, realizing he’d copied the same column of figures three times. “Focus. You can do this.”

“I could do you.”

Adrian whirled in his desk chair. He was going fucking nuts! Some claimed masturbation caused dementia and blindness. Perhaps that was his fault. He’d hand-jobbed himself into a psych ward. He snorted, thinking his friends would laugh at that. They were always telling him to quit being so picky and just pick up a man. They teased him that he was like the profit and loss sheets he worked with.

Okay, that was it. One more pass through the numbers, and that was it. He had to get out of here.

He had to get laid.

Sneak peek at "The Bonds of Love"

This weekend will see the release of my first novel-length story featuring my "superhero" characters Vic and Matt. I'm quite excited, for several reasons, not the least of which is that these two seem to have taken on a life of their own. And it's my second paperback that I didn't publish myself, which is always nice!

What started out as a short story has morphed into 16 short stories, a novel and a novella between two series, and thoughts of a third series on the way. And I'm getting ready to launch a website that will focus solely on these two characters. I have big things planned for them.

Me! Who ever thought I'd write a series?

THE BONDS OF LOVE by J.M. Snyder
Coming February 3, 2008 from Amber Allure Press

BLURB:
Vic Braunson has a special kind of problem ~ his lover, Matt diLorenzo, somehow imbues him with enhanced superpowers every time they have sex. It's something Vic has learned to live with in the years they've been together, and something he won't let stand in the way of their relationship. Matt hates the powers, particularly when they put Vic in danger, but what can they do?

When Vic stops an armed robbery at a local convenience store, his picture appears in the morning paper. Later that day, Matt gets a phone call at work from Jordan Dubrowski, a guy he knew in high school. Jordan was his first, in every way ~ it was through him that Matt discovered his ability to transfer superpowers to his lovers. Jordan had a taste of those powers, and after reading about Vic's role in the hold up, he's decided he wants them back.

But Matt is in love, and Vic won't let him go without a fight. Still, Jordan will stop at nothing to get what he thinks rightly belongs to him.

EXCERPT:
One image flashed in Vic's head, undeniable. A gun, crammed down the front of the black guy's jeans, the safety off. At least one of his friends had a knife, folded in the fist balled in his hoodie pocket. Crossing to stand behind his lover, Vic lowered his voice so no one else would overhear. "Come on, Matty. Time to go."

His lover started, "I'm ~"

Vic quieted him with a hand on his back. "Now."

Matt glanced around the store, confusion on his face. Opening the mental connection they shared, Vic pointed out the gun and knife. "Shit," Matt whispered. As he reached for the Slurpee lids, his hand hit a stack of the cups and they clattered to the tiled floor.

The noise set the gunman into action. "You fuckers on the ground!" he hollered, waving the pistol in the air. The cashier screamed and dropped behind the counter, out of sight. Cat food cans went rolling, the freezer door slammed shut as the customers hurried to obey. The cat food lady sobbed. Matt sank to his knees and tried to gather up the offending cups.

"On the floor," the gunman barked. He turned full circle, gun leveled, looking for a reason to shoot. When he saw Vic, the gun swung to a stop between them. "You, asshole. Didn't you hear me?"

Vic stared at the barrel, unperturbed. A strange feeling of calm descended over him and he stepped in front of Matt to block his lover from the gun's aim. "I heard you."

His low voice infuriated the gunman. "Then get the fuck on the floor!" When Vic didn't move, the guy shook his head in disbelief. "Motherfucker."

"Get on the floor, man!" one of guy's friends pleaded, the one with the knife. "We ain't gonna kill you, dude. Just get down and no one gets hurt."

Somehow, Vic didn't believe that. "Change of plans," he said, popping another chip in his mouth. He took a moment to chew it ~ in the silence of the store, broken only by quiet sobs and Matt fiddling with the cups, the sound that the chip made as he ground it between his teeth seemed unnaturally loud to his own ears. Choosing his words, Vic announced, "Give me the gun. And you, the knife."

The kid gaped, surprised Vic knew of his weapon. ::I know,:: Vic added mentally.

The kid's jaw dropped. "Who the hell are you?" he whispered.

"Hand them over," Vic replied, ignoring the question. "And no one gets hurt. How's that sound?"

For a breathless second, he almost hoped it had worked. The kid with the knife had it out now, but he held it by the hilt, ready to drop it and run. The third friend stayed by the door, waiting for the signal to bolt. But this was the gunman's show, and he wasn't ready to call it quits just yet. "What're you gonna do?"

Vic took a step to close the distance between them. "You stay right there!" the gunman warned, his voice ratcheting up a notch. "You hear me?"

As if he didn't, Vic moved closer. If he could just reach the guy, he knew he could bring him down~ the strength that flooded his system ran like adrenaline through his veins, energizing him. If he could just get close enough to tackle him ...

The gun went off. Vic saw a lick of flame, smelled the acrid odor of gunpowder and smoke, and heard the deafening rapport a second before something small and hard and metal punched him in the center of his chest. The energy in his body flared to life ~ the gun shots rang out, two, three, each accompanied by another hard knock that rattled him down through his core. The energy swirled through him, in him, around him, dazzling like bright light. Far away he heard Matt cry out for him, the sound of his name like anguish in his lover's voice.

Then the light washed over him like the tide, and everything disappeared.

Coming Sunday!