I signed my last contract a little over a year ago. Once that was edited and released, I spent the interim slowly editing the second Personal Demons book, and making fairly sad excuses about why I didn’t have time to write. Some of it was true – The Job That Pays the Bills took up a lot of my time over the summer and fall – and some of it was just that – excuses.

I’m breaking the habit this week. Personal Demons will still need to wait, and not because of the elephant in the room. My reasons are my own, and I know that makes for a boring blog entry, but I will say I’ve been working on a couple of other things instead.

CRANK, my free online story is one of my priorities this month. I’ve returned to a regular schedule posting chapters, with the next one going up today. Meanwhile, on my blog, I’ve been sharing writing exercises. I take quotes from different places (lyrics, a quote book, an overheard conversation, or wherever I stumble across them) and then write flash fiction from them. They’re not complete stories, and they won’t be edited, but I promise to share a couple each week.

As for books-to-be, there are three different couples meandering around in my head. I’ve been exploring their connections, getting to know them. Soon, I’ll settle on one couple to star in a new manuscript. I’m currently leaning towards a friends-to-lovers romance, but I’m also itching to write some horror. We shall see. Hopefully by the time my next Slash & Burn visit rolls around I’ll be knee deep in a chosen manuscript.

Have a great February, dear Readers!

Laying Ghosts out Tomorrow!

Its been a whiles since I've had a new release...but finally TA DA`

Laying Ghosts
By James Buchanan

available from MLRPress

Some families are haunted by tragedy. Some people are haunted by their pasts. Some men are haunted by who they are. Joe Peterson is haunted by all three. His parents' return from their mission, combined with a family reunion, forces Joe's kin to deal with his new life: out of the Mormon Church, out of the closet, and living with his lover Kabe. When a decades-old murder of a child lands on Joe's desk, digging into it dredges up long buried truths and festering secrets about folks Joe thought he knew -- including Kabe. Joe and Kabe must lay the ghosts of the past and bring closure to a family scarred by loss to move forward in their life together.

Excerpt: 
An old style fireproof and somewhat waterproof small document safe came out into the thin light. I blew the dust off the top to reveal an old badge sticker, the kind we still handed out to kids at parades and such, and a property tag taped down with evidence tape. Someone’s pencil scratch spelled out G.S.D. for temporary storage and gave the department’s address from before the new county courthouse had been built back in the eighties.

Temporary, my left nut.

I did not have the key. Likely no one at the station even knew whether the key even still existed. Since the box appeared to belong to my department and it seemed the type of box that you’d keep important files in, I figured I should get it open. The locksmith in town might have the correct bump-key to open it, so I got out my cell and made a call. He was out and nobody knew when they expected him. Well, the county had maintenance folks and they were on premises. Went upstairs, hauling the box, and tracked down Duncan.

“So what’s in the box?” Duncan played with a set of picks he’d pulled out of his kit. “It’s not going get me in trouble is it?”

“Naw.” I shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know what’s there, but I got a good suspicion it’s what I’m looking for.” While he worked, I rocked the chair I’d commandeered onto its back legs. “And if it ain’t something the department wanted opened, then we’ll re-key it and lock it back up.”

“Hum.” He let out the non-committal sound and focused back on the lock. Another couple minutes later, I heard the lock pop and Duncan stood up. “All yours.”

“Thank you, sir.” I pulled open the lid. Files. Old files. My hunch was likely right.

“If that’s all you need, I got to go fix the john in the jury room.”

Looked up from the files I’d already started thumbing through. “I’m good.” I, hopefully, was more than good ‘cause if this was what I needed I didn’t need to go back down with the dirt and spiders. “Can I use the room? Little more comfortable up here.”

Duncan saluted me as he opened up the door to let himself out. “Knock yourself out.”

Dragged the chair on over, pulled out the first file and opened it up. The details of an unsolved hit and run along the highway confronted me: serious injury, not a death case, from around seventy-five. Jackpot! I dropped that one back in and grabbed one from around the middle. Late sixties, commercial burglary with penciled in margin notes referencing the Ross boys, but again unsolved. Definitely the old case files I was supposed to retrieve. Fingered the edges of the files to find the place where I’d pulled the file. Went right past it and then my brain registered what I’d seen. I set the file I’d been holding on the table before pulling out the one that caught my eye.

Peterson, Rosalie - 1979.

Too much coincidence to be coincidence. I opened up the brittle manila folder. The first thing there, staring out at me, my sister Rose’s face. The same school photo that hung in the hall of my parent’s house, except at home a little card with Jesus and the children occupied one corner of the frame. Couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it. Rose drowned. Accident. Why was there a file for her? Accidental death, drowning, that’s a closed case. Solved.

Except, sitting there, holding that file and thinking back on my memories, nobody’d ever said direct that it was an accident. They’d just always sorta avoided the subject.

Wow, I missed my last Sunday! Funny how time really does get away from you. Well, when you're in Las Vegas, anyway. There are no clocks ANYWHERE except in your hotel room.

I was in Vegas to see the Tim McGraw and Faith Hill Soul 2 Soul concert at the Venetian. Totally worth it. Many, many writing ideas were spawned during that 90 minutes. Hopefully some of them will even make it to paper!

Not much else going on with me. California is pretty soggy and wet right now, but that's standard winter here. It does allow for writing time since I'm not tempted outdoors by the gorgeous weather. Still working on a sequel to By the Numbers with Chris Owen, so expect that sometime in late 2013. I have a re-release in March. Will reveal more of that as it gets closer.

Not all blog entries have to be brilliant, right? Because this one was not. Happy Sunday, slashers!

Clustering stories & Easter eggs

Apologies for skipping a few times - my day on the blog is Friday, and some Fridays are utter pigs in terms of workload, and sometimes I remember only on Saturday it was my turn. (This is not to talk trash about pigs - perfectly nice, tasty animals.)

I  also don't really believe in blogging when I have nothing to say. (Yep, it happens. I can spend days just sitting by myself, perfectly entertained without any need to talk about it or to anybody. I call those phases the introvert part of my cycle.)

Anyways. One fascinating question I've recently thought a lot about is - when we're creating worlds, are we really creating ONE world? To explain, I'm sometimes fascinated by the idea that characters from different books meet. Silvio could conceivably be in London, where I'm increasingly drawing my international characters - a weak imitation of the real diversity going on here. But it's a setting I know reasonably well, and London would be an attractive base for many of my characters (though Stefano and Donata decided to settle in Paris - just a short train ride away, really). Nikolai and Henri are definitely settling in London for the time being.

Stephen King did it. His stories were full of cross-references. You ended up with Stephen King's take on Maine rather than individual stories. (As a kid it annoyed me a bit - it could seem like an elaborate reference/joke that I could never work out.)

As an adult, I really like that idea. I like shared universes, too (like the Tucker Springs series by LA Witt, Marie Sexton and Heidi Cullinan), the idea that we're looking at something larger that exists outside the one book we're currently reading, but the current book is adding to it.

My own worlds are increasingly converging. Incursion is set in the same overall sci-fi set-up as Dark Edge of Honor (the Doctrine is just such a fascinating thing to explore - I can't stay away from the impact of totalitarian systems on human souls). There's a brief mention of the Doctrine in Incursion, which likely adds nothing to Incursion, but opens that large arch that invites the reader to see the bigger picture. It's an Easter Egg to discover and enjoy.

Mostly, I'm doing these in one genre - the Market Garden contemporary series (written with LA Witt) mentions characters who are the main characters of other parts of the series. While Tristan and Jared open the series in Quid Pro Quo, Nick is mentioned who is the main character in two novellas. In those, we mention the owner of the club, Frank. Who gets his own novel. It's fun. (And seems to spark further books on Frank's friends Mike and Geoff and Raoul in Frank's novel. Think of it as a literary daisy chain, where everybody gets to have fun...)

But then the real Easter Eggs: "Market Garden" of course is the name of a WWII operation. With the club owner something of a military... enthusiast, he's aware of that and chose the name as a bit of an insider joke. That all goes back to my WWII novels, which all happen in "the same version of WWII". All my main characters I set in WWII are taking part in the same war, and some have walk-on parts in the stories of the others. (Baldur of Skybound was the pilot who shot down my American pilot in an as-yet unpublished WWII novel, for example.)

Or another one: There's a part in a Market Garden story where our contemporary characters go to a museum to look at some paintings. These paintings showed up first in my WWII novel set in Paris. In the context of my overall work, the paintings are silent witnesses to a story that was never really told "in the real world", hopefully building a resonance, for want of a better word.

I see my stories as a kind of modern chorus ensemble - ideally, taken as a collective, they'll build more force and feed off each other, building harmonies and dissonances, but those are just my very "arty" concepts. I'm essentially hoping to mimic things I've observed about the "real world" and comment on history versus story versus reality, but wow, deep shit, and it should absolutely work without all those crazy meta ideas.

Maybe what I enjoy most is to cross genres there. Not only am I moving items and themes from the past into the future, but I'm firmly connecting my "literary" efforts to my "genre" work. Same brain. Same process. I don't like divisions here, and they are all happening in the same world. All I'm doing is apply slightly different tools and voices. You CAN play metal on classical instruments.

I'm just hoping that my faithful readers who read everything I do, enjoy finding these cross-references. It's the best I can do to map my own brain and creative processes - that express themselves in stories. Actually, in clusters of stories. Can't help it, that's how I roll.

7's Up

I'm always looking for something to write about that won't bore a reader to sad little reader pieces and Josephine Myles on Facebook tagged me for this. While I'm still trying to figure out how Facebook works, anyone stopping by here gets the benefit. 

What it is is seven lines from the seventh page of your current work in progress, then you tag seven other authors. (Um, Slash & Burn authors, consider yourself tagged!) 

So here's my seven lines from the seventh page of a historical that has seized my brain and won't let me work on what I'd been planning. I'm calling it Dead to Me right now. 

It takes place in 1896 in Cornwall. 

I disembarked at the Looe station in the early evening. The air was warm, scented with thick growth and cleansed by the sea. My blackened London lungs immediately rebelled in a violent cough, the hacking echoing through my rattled and aching bones.

The last stretch of track had been laid without regard for safety or comfort, either clinging to  cliff face on a steep incline or traversing a spit of land in salty marsh. I’d done far too much clinging to the hard wooden seat back in my third class carriage, damn Fred to the ninth circle of hell with the other traitors. It had been far too easy to become accustomed to a life of finer things and small luxuries such as clean linen and soft seating.

Informercial voice: But wait, there's more. 

Here's what I thought I'd be working on. Feel free to chime in with opinions and make my manuscript ADD settle. This is seven from page seven of the next Baltimore book, Bad Habit. 

Silver looked back at Marco, who, yeah, Silver had dragged up to Mount Washington. What a fucking time for Silver’s conscience to come back from the dead. He ran down the driveway.

It was easy enough to find the tools in the freakishly neat garage. Remembering how his father had never been happy when he sent Silver for tools, he came back with the wrench and three different-sized screwdrivers which he shoved into the arrogant asshole's hands before backing away.

Though Silver was fuck-all certain the only time Gavin looked under a car’s hood was in a gleaming showroom, the two older guys got cozy and flirty over the engine. It was all Silver could do to not roll his eyes.

Rediscovering a groove

I just got home from a short vacation where I had almost no internet access. I cannot tell you how good that felt! I got very little writing done while on vacation, but the trip did help me get back in touch with my writer self, and that's just as good for me at this point. I'm rediscovering what routines work for me as a writer; things that have fallen to the wayside over the past couple of years. I am digging out of my rut and stepping back into my groove, and what a good feeling that is! That said, it's a delicate balance between "researching" and "procrastinating". At least I got in about four hours of writing before I got sidetracked to all those pretty websites with all that interesting information. Today, I call that a win.

New Release!

I'm thrilled that Ascending Hearts is now available from Ellora's Cave! It's the next in my Tempting Tales series with Leta Blake, and is inspired by Jack and the Beanstalk. 

Rumors of treasure have long sent fortune hunters clambering up a magic beanstalk to a mysterious castle in the clouds. Survivors told of an evil giant who guards the gold with savage strength. No sane man would dare risk the climb—but Jack has nothing left to lose. Shunned for his evil red hair and abandoned by his cruel lover, he’s desperate to escape his life.

Rion isn’t a giant, only a man bearing the burden of protecting his family’s legacy. It’s a lonely existence, but he’s duty bound. Then Jack appears, and Rion’s world changes. After a blazing confrontation, undeniable lust sparks. Isolated in the clouds, Jack and Rion give in to their desire and growing connection. Soon they must protect the treasure—and each other—from a new threat. And they have everything to lose.

*

Also available at:

All Romance Ebooks
Amazon

Exciting Contract News!

I have wonderful news to share. For those who have been patiently waiting for the next book in the Chicken Ranch series, I’m thrilled to let you know your wait is almost over. The second book in the series, Recession, was recently accepted at Loose Id. I don’t know anything about when it will be released at this point, but I’ll be sure to give you updates when I know something more. Until then, here’s a sneak peek at the blurb. It’s unedited, so forgive any mistakes at this point.

Chicken Ranch: Recession

Garrett has fallen on tough times. Once a construction worker, he now depends on the desires of others to feed his little brother and keep a roof over their heads. As one of the many rent boys at Chicken Ranch, Garrett lives in constant fear, torn between making enough money to survive and getting busted for doing something illegal and immoral to pay the bills.

Miller is a workaholic with a chip on his shoulder. Memories of the past and the man who got away are his most constant companions. It isn’t until his beloved Grandma passes away that Miller dares to temporarily return home to the town he despises and the man he left behind.

Garrett never expected to see Miller again. In his worst nightmares, he couldn’t have foreseen his first love sweeping into town and trying to insert himself into his life by offering him a way out of prostitution. As much as he’d love the opportunity, he fears Miller will once again walk away and leave him hanging just like he did the summer after graduation. No matter how much he’d like to, he can’t put his faith and future in Miller’s hands when more than just his own welfare is at stake.

Their reunion comes with an abundance of complications and old feelings. Bitterness and anger swiftly turn into desire and a rekindled love that threatens more than their hearts. Although he never intended to stay in town, Miller finds himself longing to put down roots. Things are looking up until he inadvertently provokes a threat to Garrett’s custody of his little brother. Having already lost Garrett to familial obligations once, Miller fears they’re doomed to repeat the past, only this time Garrett will be the one who’ll walk away.

For the New Year

The New Year is not quite a week old yet. We all have our own ways of celebrating the retiring of one year and the birth of another. Some watched the ball drop on Times Square, others drank until they couldn’t remember last year, still others spent quiet time with family. Regardless of how you rang in the New Year, let’s make it the best one yet.

How? I’m glad you asked. Here are my ideas for 2013:

Look for the happiness and joy in your life every day. Maybe it’s a hug from your child, or and unexpected text from an old friend. Maybe it’s that chocolate bar you’d been saving for a special occasion, or freshly fallen snow painting your yard a pristine white. Look for it, acknowledge it, appreciate it.

Better yourself. No, not resolutions; something you’ll enjoy. Pick an instrument and take some music lessons. Learn how to snowshoe. Study a foreign language. Apply for a better job. Participate in a charity; pick one that means something strong to you.

Lastly, step away. So many of us spend way too much time in front of the computer. Social interaction online is simply not the same as taking a friend out for coffee, or going shopping with your sister. Get away from your computer and get some fresh air, and welcome smiles with friends and family, and do it often. Oh, and don’t check your smart phone while you’re doing it.

In 2013,

May you find what you seek. May you catch the dreams you chase. May you walk the path to your most desired life goals. May the New Year treat you with the same joy and love for life as you give yourself every day.

Happy New Year!

~Pia

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a fun and safe New Year's Eve! A year ago today I was flying home from Iceland. I expect today to be much more relaxed. ;-)

I'm not much for resolutions, New Year's or otherwise, but there are things that I'm excited about today, this month, and in the coming year.

Today: I have black-eyed peas cooking in the crock pot. I missed out on this Southern good luck tradition last year, so I was determined to make it happen this year. I hope it turns out tasty!

This month: I'm back to a new session of aerials and I am determined to accomplish what's needed to move up to the next level by Session 2. (I would bore you with details, but that would be boring--and possibly nonsensical--for you.)

This year: It's the 25th anniversary season for the theatre company I work for and I am beyond excited by the slate we have planned, especially King Lear. *swoon* (Yes, I said *swoon*.) Plus, the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is also doing Lear this year, and I already have tickets to see it in September. Woot!

This year, too: I have two books that will go out of print this year, and I'm determined to get them self-pubbed in a timely fashion. I'm already working on cover art for the first one, so yay for me! I have unfinished manuscripts on my computer that I plan to finish, too. Maybe it's just the sunshine out there, but I'm feeling productive today. Here's hoping it lasts.


Is there anything you're excited about this year? What delights does 2013 hold for you?

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.