A Texan in Ireland

April 2, 2014

Yeah, a Texan in Ireland. :) I was lucky enough to take a vacation in Ireland in 2012, and the seeds of this novel sprouted as I was on the plane coming home, having some ‘what-if’ fantasies. You see, unlike the bolder character of Hank, I was a good boy and stayed with the tour group. So I could only imagine what I might have found had I struck out on my own.

You guys ready for an excerpt?


Chapter 1: Scene 1

Hank wandered deeper into the National Museum of Ireland, freezing in his tracks when he saw the metal feline on display. A skilled artist had crafted the beautiful piece from circular bands of brass and bronze. He slowly stepped closer to the case for a better view. The pattern of the yellow-orange metal designs made the figure look remarkably like a life-sized marmalade tabby cat sitting on his haunches on top of a wooden shoe box. The cat’s head angled to one side, as though he were preparing to lick his shoulder. The figurine’s eyes, cut from some kind of green gemstone, glowed with fiery life in the up-lit case.

As he neared the display, Hank glanced at the placard which indicated this was a clockwork piece entitled “Dancing Phouka” by Cona Philmo. Recognizing that name from working in his parent’s antique business, Hank knew of the renowned watchmaker of the 1920s era, but he’d never known the Portuguese artist also made clockwork pieces.

What a strange thing to find in a Dublin museum, Hank thought as he examined the cat through the glass. Well, it didn’t look exactly like a cat. Proportionally, his tail seemed a little too short and his shoulders seemed a bit too broad for a typical feline. Maybe those were just structural concessions the designer made to accommodate the moving metal gears and bits inside.

Hank noticed a small button installed next to the sign. As he reached out his hand to the button, a movement from the edge of the room snagged Hank’s attention. Ignoring the sudden chill he felt, Hank glanced at the corner, but saw only dark shadows. He peered around the rest of the small alcove and saw he was alone.

Hank pushed the button.

A movie of the clockwork in action appeared on a screen along the back wall of the display case. The metallic sounds of a music-box rendition of the song Greensleeves tinkled out as Hank watched in awe. The metal phouka first stretched out a paw, then tiny metal claws extended from its paw-pads before the clockwork cat stood up. With an hypnotically smooth movement, the phouka figurine then lifted to stand on his back legs. While the tune still played, the clockwork cat rotated his hips and lifted his front paws, like a slow-moving belly dancer. Hank watched in fascination.

As the song came to an end, the clockwork figure dropped back to all four paws before returning to the sitting position. After a slight flick of its tail, the music ended.

Hank stood in stunned silence. Granny would have loved this. Even though his eyes welled up at the thought, he smiled. It had always been his Granny’s dream to visit the homeland of their ancestors, but circumstances had never allowed for it before she passed on. Hank had scheduled this trip partly as a memorial in her honor.

Blinking heavily, he turned and read the descriptive placard.


Reported to have been the first work ever created by Cona Philmo, this clockwork music box is a shining example of early 20th Century craftsmanship.

The Phouka, thought to be the mythical cousins of Leprechauns, are often said to hide amongst humans in various disguises. Folklore speaks fondly of phouka, who were believed to be playfully benign, and sometimes even beneficial to humans. Cona could often be heard bragging that a live model posed for this unusual work.

(1969) Due to the delicate nature of the metalwork, the museum no longer runs the music box. Instead, please enjoy the movie of the clockwork in action.


Glancing at his watch, Hank saw that he still had about twenty minutes before it was time to meet the rest of the tour group in the museum’s front lobby. He scrunched his tired toes inside his sneakers as he looked at the small bench by the wall. He walked over and sat down to rest his feet before heading back through the maze to the front doors.

He stretched out his legs and flexed his ankles with a soft groan. Then, he lifted his feet and scrunched his toes again, working the tired muscles of his calves. Not that Hank hadn’t enjoyed every minute of his tour through Ireland, but he decided that next time he traveled, he would rethink the whole “tour bus” idea. He reached down and put his finger under the laces of his right sneaker and pulled up on the knot to try and loosen the shoe’s grip a little. The problem with the bus was how the group scurried so quickly from one town to the next, leaving Hank feeling as though he never had time to catch his breath in any one place. Or rest his feet. Maybe he was getting too old for a week’s worth of walking around.

He pulled at the knot of his other shoe before glancing up again at the glowing green eyes of the bronze and brass figurine. From this angle, the phouka’s eyes seemed to be gazing back at him.

Fighting the strange feeling that someone was watching him, Hank peered around the empty room again. His gaze snagged briefly on the shadows in the dark corner, but he failed to see anything. Quit being goosey, he scolded himself. I’m just tired, he thought reassuringly.

He stood and took one last admiring glance at the Cona clockwork before walking out of the room.



Wrapped Up in Chains Release Party – Excerpt and giveaway.

March 14, 2014

I’d like to thank you all for coming by and hanging out with me today. I’ve loved sharing with you and hope you’ll enjoy the story. Andrea M you’re the winner of the free copy and I will will have the lovely people at Dreamspinner add it to your bookshelf by tomorrow.

And here’s the excerpt that will hopefully whet your appetite:

DEVON WALKED into Mystique looking every inch the Master of the world. The truth wasn’t too far off. Inside his club there were many who called themselves Master, but here in this place, they all answered to him.

Tonight he wore black jeans and a dark red silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His black jacket and boots completed the look. Devon didn’t favor the leather and chains look so many in his community seemed to be stuck on unless he was in a scene.

He radiated power as he walked down the hall and into the main room of the club. He was used to most eyes turning his way as he entered the room. The fact that they didn’t tonight was Devon’s first indication that something was wrong. When he looked to see what had captured people’s attention, his green eyes flashed with anger.

There was a crowd of people gathered around the raised stage in the middle of the club, watching one of the young men who worked there as a Dom beat a young man who was tied to the St. Andrew’s cross that sat on the platform.

Most of the people watching looked horrified but made no move to stop the torture.

The unfortunate sub had been beaten so badly that his back was bleeding in half a dozen places, and it was obvious this was some kind of punishment instead of a scene. He was limp in his bindings, and the pain in his shoulders must have been excruciating as the muscles were stretched to the limit when his legs failed to support him.

Devon spotted his manager standing uncertainly to the side. This was the man who should have been putting a stop to the chaos in front of him, but Devon could see that he was intimidated and trying to decide whether or not to stop it. He took the choice out of the manager’s hands.

Striding quickly to the stage, he caught the eye of the DJ as he went, and the music died. All eyes were finally on Devon as he shouted.


The Dom had just pulled his arm back to administer another blow and was startled when Devon yanked the flogger out of his hand.

The man spun to confront whoever had dared to interfere and visibly paled when he saw it was his boss. Devon smiled coldly at the man.

“Matt, I’d like you to explain to me what this poor sub has done to merit being beaten half to death.” He moved around so he could see the bleeding man’s face. Devon’s fury grew. The man wasn’t much more than a boy.

“He struck a Dom, sir.” Matt’s voice shook.

Devon gently pushed the hair back off the young man’s face and was gratified when he opened his eyes. However, the pure terror in the hazel depths made Devon even more furious. He ran his fingers through the man’s hair, trying to calm him down a little.

“Why? He obviously didn’t hit him for no reason.”

Matt just shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see what happened. One minute the Dom was talking to him, the next he was flat on the floor with a broken nose. Don’t worry, sir, Jason took him to the hospital.” He made it sound like Devon should be proud of him for taking care of the Dom.

“And you didn’t ask why the kid hit him? Did it occur to you that he might have had a reason?”

Matt scowled. “Subs don’t hit Doms, sir. It’s the rule.”

Devon pulled himself to his full height. “In case you’ve forgotten, Matt, I make the fucking rules here! And rule number one is consent from all parties for everything! Are you telling me this man consented to this?”

Matt flinched even though Devon hadn’t raised his voice. When Devon lifted the flogger to look at it, his anger almost overwhelmed him.

The whip was actually a cat-o’-nine-tails that was about two-and-a-half-feet long. It was one of the nastier versions Devon had seen, with knots tied at intervals along the tails and the ends cut at an angle, all designed to cause the maximum amount of pain and damage.

“You used this weapon of torture on someone in my club? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Devon’s voice was starting to get louder, and as it did he could feel the sub shake harder. He knew he had to calm down and get the injured man taken care of.

Taking a deep breath, he threw the flogger across the stage to land at the feet of his manager. “You are not a Dom. You’re just a fucking bully. Now get the hell out of my club. You’re done here.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak but stopped when two of the bouncers who had been with the club since it began stepped forward at a gesture from Devon. With a giant man on either side of him, Matt had no option but to move in the direction they wanted him to go. He went quietly.

Devon turned back to the sub. He’d started moaning in pain, although Devon could see that the man was trying hard to be quiet.

“If the rest of you wouldn’t mind, could you please step back and give us some room to work?” He looked over his shoulder and saw Andy and Joe walking toward the stage. They must have just arrived or this wouldn’t have been happening.

“Could you two give me a hand here?”

“What in the hell’s going on, Dev?” Andy’s eyes widened when he saw the sub’s back. “Who did that? I’ll fucking kill ’em!”

“Someone who is no longer employed here. We’ll talk about it later.” Dev leaned in to talk quietly in the sub’s ear.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He couldn’t resist tucking a lock of hair behind the other man’s ear. His face was so innocent he couldn’t imagine him lashing out at anyone in anger.

“Chase, Sir.” His voice was wrecked, hoarse and raw from screaming.

“Chase, we’re going to get you down from here and figure out what’s going on, okay?”

Chase nodded. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

Devon rubbed the back of his knuckles gently over Chase’s cheek. “Shhh, just be quiet for now, sweetheart. We’re gonna take care of you.”

Looking back at Andy, he motioned for him to start untying Chase while Joe ran off to grab the gurney they kept to help move patrons who were sometimes overwhelmed in intense scenes.

Devon stood beside Chase, moving in front of him and holding his weight when Andy finally got both the limbs on one side untied.

Chase was trying hard to hold himself up, but Devon knew he was seconds away from collapsing. “It’s okay, Chase. You can lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

Chase put his forehead on Devon’s shoulder, both arms hanging down by his sides, apparently too weak and in too much pain to grab on to anything.

“Who’s your Master, Chase?”

Chase trembled at the question, and for a moment, Devon didn’t think he was going to answer.

“James, Sir, James Kingston.”

Devon sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Joe came with the gurney then, and they managed to manhandle Chase onto it, laying him carefully on his front. Once he was settled, Devon looked at the crowd.

“Did any of you see what happened?” He needed to get to the bottom of this. If Chase was seriously hurt, this little shit show could cause him real problems.

Everyone shook their heads, but Devon knew some were lying. He watched as a pretty little dark-haired sub he recognized leaned in to whisper in her Dom’s ear. Her Dom looked at her in surprise before nodding at her.

She walked up and stood in front of the stage, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her until he spoke.

“Yes, Katie?”

“Pardon me, Sir, but I saw Chase’s Dom walk him in and sit him at the bar. He whispered in his ear and then walked to the booth in the corner, leaving Chase alone.” The poor girl was shaking, but she bravely kept talking.

“The Dom and his friends watched as people came up to Chase and talked to him. Chase always said no to offers of company, and they walked away. But then one of the men from his Dom’s table came up and wouldn’t leave him alone. I don’t think Chase knew the man was with his Master, Sir. He couldn’t see the booth from the bar.

Devon was pretty sure he knew what had happened next, but he nodded for her to continue. She was nervous, and he was happy when her Dom came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, offering her comfort.

“The man pulled Chase off his stool and tried to push him to his knees, and that’s when Chase hit him.” She looked up at Devon, begging him to understand. “Sir, I don’t think Chase meant to hit him, he just… panicked. He’s shy, and his Master doesn’t take him out much. Please don’t be too angry at Chase, Master Devon.”

Devon walked to the front of the stage and crouched down to smile at her. “I’m not mad at Chase, Katie. He’s not the one in the wrong here. Thank you for telling me. Do you know where his Dom went?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir. When everyone started freaking out, he just left as fast as he could, leaving Chase behind.” The look on her face told Devon exactly what she thought of the cowardly asshole who’d abandoned his sub.

Devon leaned in and kissed her on the forehead and nodded gratefully at her Dom. They were a couple who came in often, and Devon knew they were a devoted pair.

“Don’t worry, Katie, we’re going to take care of Chase, I promise.”

She smiled at him, tears causing her eyes to shine a little brighter. She turned in her Dom’s arms, and he held her and soothed her as they walked away.

Devon looked over to where Andy and Joe were trying to tend to Chase’s injuries. He stood and walked off the stage to join them.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t know. He won’t let us get close enough to look and keeps insisting he isn’t going to see any doctors.” Dev could see the frustration on his friend’s face.

Dev crouched down so he could look Chase in the eyes and started stroking Chase’s dark, sweaty hair. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?”

“Master said no one touches what’s his and no doctors. They ask too many questions.”

Devon continued petting him, running his fingers down the back of Chase’s neck to try and ease the tension there. “I’m touching you.”

“You’re the Master here. This is your place. It makes it okay, I think.” His voice was so quiet it was hard to hear, and Dev could tell he was struggling to make sense of things.

Dev smiled encouragingly at him. He knew he had to help Chase feel comfortable so that he’d let them help him. “Let’s get you to my office and get you checked over. If I decide you need to go to the hospital, you’re going, no arguments, all right?”

Chase nodded, and Devon stood up. He could see the other man making an aborted move toward Devon’s hand, and his heart twisted in sympathy. Chase was terrified and had apparently attached himself to Devon without his Dom to turn to. He laid his hand over Chase’s, smiling when the injured man turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers around Dev’s almost painfully.

Devon looked toward the crowd. “Please feel free to continue to enjoy yourselves, but keep this in mind. I won’t tolerate this kind of brutality in my place. Remember, these amazing people put themselves in your care, and it’s your duty as their Doms to make sure they’re safe while they’re with you. Don’t abuse the gift they’ve given you if you want to keep it.”

The last was said as a warning, and the Doms in the room knew James Kingston was going to be sorry for ever trying this kind of brutal game in Devon’s world.


My First Time

March 7, 2014

Not what you’re thinking … this is my first release and wide-audience blog. Sorry it’s a little late in the day, but got called into work and while I love writing, it doesn’t quite pay the bills … yet.

I’m JR Shelley, author of the newly-released ‘Forever Fantasy.’ It’s my first M/M novella, so I’m kinda nervous at its reception. Thought I’d start off with an except, give you guys a taste of the story.

“I’m just not used to someone wanting to spend time with me and….” Logan paused, running his finger along the rim of his mug.

“And what?”

“And not want something in return.”

RJ put his hand over Logan’s. “I do want something in return.”

Logan stared at him. “What?”

“I want your friendship. I want to help you deal with your demons.”

Logan gave him a half-smile. “Thanks. How about a walk on the beach? I find the ocean very calming.”

“Romantic, too.”

“I don’t know much about romance.”

“Simple gestures can be romantic. My favorite is to be surprised with breakfast in bed.” The waiter brought their food out.

“Look, I probably should have asked earlier, but… you have someone waiting on you back home?”

RJ let out a sigh. “No, not anymore. Another reason I came out here. He… he died.”

“I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a little over three months. He was someone I met in the military. He couldn’t… he couldn’t deal with his demons.”

“He treated you to breakfast in bed?”

RJ smiled, even through the sad eyes. “Always on my birthday. And a few times just because.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever, you know, find someone.”

“I hope you do.”

They finished breakfast and headed toward the beach, hand in hand. The skies were turning a bit gray, a hint of rain in the air.

“You sure you want to head out? Looks like the sky’s going to open up.” RJ stopped to look at the clouds on the horizon.

“A little rain won’t kill us. Anyway, isn’t rain romantic?” Logan waggled his eyebrows.

“You can be corny sometimes, you know that?”

“Part of my charm.”

“Okay, Prince Charming, lead the way.”

They got about a half mile down the beach toward the outcropping of rocks when the soft rain started. RJ leaned up against a large boulder, rain plastering his clothes to his skin.

Logan put his hands on either side of RJ’s head, dipping his own head in close, then back out, the lightest of kisses between them as the rain fell. Soon they were exploring each other’s mouths, their bodies touching chest to groin.

Logan was about to give in to the sensation of RJ being so near when RJ pushed him back. “Not now.”

“Being groped on the beach in the rain not doing it for you?” Logan stepped back.

“No, it’s not that. I want more for you.”

Logan wrinkled his brow. “More for me?”

“Not a quick hand job or blow job on the beach. Tell me, what do you feel right now?”

“Honestly, a little tight in the pants and it’s not all because of the rain.”

“No, how do you feel, up here?” RJ tapped Logan’s head.

“What am I supposed to feel?”

RJ looked pained. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You don’t feel anything? Nothing for me, nothing for the beauty of the moment?”

“I know I want to make you feel good.”

RJ shook his head. “What do you want?”

Logan stepped back even farther, almost like he’d been struck. “Why would it matter what I want?”

RJ pulled him back, wrapping his arms around him. “It matters. You matter to me.” He turned them, with Logan now against the rock. “Feel me. Feel me… loving you.” RJ claimed Logan’s lips, sending him a passionate kiss. “Tell me what you want, right here, right now. Don’t think about me. Just tell me what you want.”

“I… I want you. To feel your lips on mine, your hands on my body.”

“That I can do.” RJ kissed his lips, nibbling down his neck while he slid his hand up under Logan’s wet T-shirt. He gently caressed Logan’s chest. “Just feel. Don’t think about me, be selfish. Enjoy being loved.”
That’s a bit from the story. I hope you like it.

Here is the buy link at Dreamspinner: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4754

I’ll be back later, hopefully to run a contest to win a copy! :)

And a big shout out to DW Skinner for his great photography on the cover and Paul Richmond for his art direction. You guys rock!
Forever Fantasy Cover

Final Excerpt from Sunrise Over Savannah by Scotty Cade

February 18, 2014



Okay, Guess who???

I’m here with the last excerpt and question. Good luck everyone. Remember, don’t posts your answers any earlier then two o’clock, EST. I’ll see you at the cocktail hour with a drink and three winners in hand. For you not familiar with cocktail hour, that’s 5pm EST. This so exciting!!!!



Hank was standing over the stove with a wooden spoon in each hand as the sound of Norah Jones wafted through the house. He was swaying and humming along to Norah’s sultry version of the “Tennessee Waltz” while stirring a pot of yellow cheese grits with one spoon and a sauté pan of jumbo shrimp and Andouille sausage with the other. A thought suddenly hit him, and he turned his head to one side, deciding what to do about it.

He lowered the flame on both burners, picked up his cell phone, and opened his contacts, choosing the contact he’d programmed earlier that day for Garner. While the call connected and started to ring, Hank found himself swaying again to Norah’s soulful sounds.

He stopped when he heard Garner’s voice. “Hey, Hank.” Garner had obviously checked the caller ID before he answered.

“Hey, man, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Thompson and I just finished checking in the last arrival, and I’m about to head down to the boat to unwind for a second and then shower.”

Hank felt a wave of panic and looked down at his watch. Six forty-nine. He went over his mental checklist. He still had to finish dinner, set the table, shower, and pick up Garner, and he had just over an hour in which to do it all.


“Yeah, I’m here. Boy, do I need to get a move on, though. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t allergic to shellfish or see if there was anything else I should know about your diet.”

“Nope. No food allergies that I’m aware of.”

“Okay, good. Gotta go! See you at eight.”

“Okay,” Garner said with a chuckle.

Hank ended the call and went back to the stove. He dipped his spoon into the simmering grits and brought the cheesy mixture to his mouth. “Ummmm, perfect. One down.”

He turned off the burner, covered the pot, and turned his attention to the shrimp and sausage mixture.

As he pushed the shrimp and sausage around in the pan, listening to Norah sing “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today,” he thought about Thompson for some reason. Garner mentioning his name on the phone triggered a couple of memories that had stuck with him all day and he wasn’t sure why. For starters, he’d stopped by the marina midmorning with some bagels for Garner and Thompson. When he’d found the office empty, he’d approached the large window and found them coming up the dock, Thompson’s arm slung over Garner’s shoulder and both of them laughing hysterically. The scene had struck him as odd because ever since Caroline’s death, Thompson had been very reserved and mostly closed off. In fact, Hank hadn’t seen him crack more than a smile for as long as he could remember. But then they’d stopped laughing suddenly, and it looked as though the mood or conversation had taken on a more serious tone. They had continued up the dock looking like each of them had more to say, and, not wanting to get in the middle of anything, Hank had slipped out unnoticed.

Then when he’d come back to the marina on that call, it looked like they were into something heavy again, so not wanting to interrupt this time either, he’d said hello, but chose not to stop and headed right for his boat. But as he was on the water leaving the marina, he saw Thompson throw his arms around Garner, saw Garner make some move to get free, then Thompson’s arm was around Garner’s neck, and they were walking up the dock laughing again. I wonder what is going on with those two? Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Holy shit! Am I jealous?

Hank realized that he really liked spending time with Garner. He didn’t know where it was headed, but he liked him enough to go along for the ride. He hadn’t felt any type of connection to anyone in such a long time, and he was damned excited about it. Garner was smart, good-looking, sexy as hell, and had a wicked sense of humor. All the traits he liked in a man. Some of the excitement waned a bit with his next thought. Six weeks, Hank! He’s only here for six weeks. Be careful and don’t go getting your heart broken.

The sizzling sound of the food brought him back to reality, and he decided to push the thoughts to the back of his mind for now. Besides, he could ask Garner what was going on between him and Thompson tonight.

Hank tasted one of the shrimp. “Just about done,” he said under his breath. “I think I’ll let them marinate for a while and finish them off right before I serve them.”

He turned off the gas burner, moved about the kitchen getting dishes, silverware, and placemats together, and headed for the dining room. “That Yankee isn’t going to think twice about Thompson Gray when he gets a taste of my famous Southern Shrimp & Grits. A way to a man’s heart through his stomach and all that.”

When the table was set, he stood back and admired his work. He glanced at his watch again. Forty minutes to go. Not bad, Hank. Not bad at all.


Garner was standing outside the marina entrance when he saw the white F150 round the corner. He waved as the truck pulled up and stopped. The power window came down and the driver leaned out. “Hellooo, sailor! Looking for a ride?”

“If you’re going my way,” Garner retorted.

Hank grinned and winked. “Oh yeah, I go your way.”

Hank put the truck in park, hopped out, and stole a quick kiss on Garner’s cheek.

“Thanks,” Garner said. “You look great, by the way.”

Hank was wearing a nicely pressed blue chambray shirt over a bright-orange T-shirt, khakis, and brown driving shoes.

“Thanks. You too.”

Garner felt underdressed in his amber-colored V-neck T-shirt, blue jeans, and blue-and-gold Nikes. He ran his hands down the front of his shirt. “This old thing?”

Hank laughed and opened the door. “Yes, that old thing. I like the way it brings out the blond in your hair. Now get in there, silly.”

Garner watched Hank run back around, jump in, and buckle his seatbelt. He moved with a confident grace and Garner liked it.

As the truck sped up, Hank leaned over and patted Garner’s thigh. “How was the rest of your day? When I came back from my call, Thompson said you were out.”

“Yeah, he asked me to run a marina guest up to West Marine to pick up a replacement bilge pump.”

“God, I love that store,” Hank said. “If I ever sold my business, I would really like to work there. The only problem I can foresee is I’d buy so much shit, I’d owe them money at the end of every pay period.”

Garner nodded in agreement. “Me too. I’m afraid I’d be right there with you.”

The short ride back to Hank’s place was filled with the usual back-and-forth banter they’d become accustomed to in the short time they’d known one another.

In less than ten minutes, Hank pulled into the driveway of a beige bungalow-style home boasting a white wraparound porch with a swing, white wicker furniture, and green-and-white striped upholstery. Dark-green shutters and a pale-yellow door finished off the exterior. Garner thought it looked like something out of a magazine. The landscaping was perfectly manicured and the outdoor lighting was spot on. There was soft lamplight coming from all the windows, and the entire place looked warm and inviting.

“This is absolutely charming,” Garner said, taking it all in.

Hank put the truck in park, rested both hands on the steering wheel, and stared at his house as if he was seeing it for the first time himself. “Thanks, I’ve owned it for about a year and just finished renovating the entire thing.”

Garner opened his door. “Come on, I can’t wait to see the inside.”

Hank hopped out of the truck, apparently as eager to show off his place as Garner was to see it. They walked into a spacious foyer with at least twelve-foot ceilings. There was a round leather-inlaid drum table in the center with a bouquet of fresh flowers and a secretary with a Chippendale chair against the back wall. A powder room was recessed in the back right corner. Garner turned to the left and saw a formal dining room, complete with romantic table set for two. He stepped into the room, admiring one thing to the next. He stopped when he saw a large antique cupboard in the far corner loaded with some type of porcelain. “Everything is lovely, but this piece is spectacular.”

“Thanks. It was my grandmommy Ellen’s, right down to the very last piece of porcelain inside of it. It’s one of my two prized possessions.”

“And the other?” Garner asked.

Hank’s very being seemed to be filling with pride as he took Garner by the hand and led him across the foyer to the formal living room.

“And this is the formal living room,” he said with the wave of his hand.

Garner followed in awe, certain his mouth was hanging open from the sheer beauty surrounding him. There was a royal-blue tone-on-tone striped camelback couch sitting in the center of the room with two tapestry-upholstered Martha Washington chairs flanking a large fireplace. End tables and other accent pieces effortlessly placed here and there donned the room and created a comfortable but elegant feel. There was a hall at the far right, which Garner assumed led to the bedrooms, and closed double french doors across the back wall. But before he could ask where they led, he spotted a triple mahogany chest of drawers with shiny brass pulls against the back wall. “That’s got to be the other piece.”

“Bingo,” Hank said. “You have a great eye.”

He ran his fingers across the top of the long chest, admiring it. “I don’t know about that, but it’s hard to miss this example of fine craftsmans—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Hank’s lips were covering his. It was a long, deep, and slow kiss. Hank’s tongue explored every crevice of his mouth, and when it ended, it left Garner breathless and wanting more.

Hank brushed the side of Garner’s face with the back of his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you early this morning.”

Garner smiled at the compliment. Then something didn’t sit right with that statement. He thought for a second. This morning? I didn’t see him until this afternoon. “You mean this afternoon?” Garner corrected.

“Nope. This morning,” Hank restated with a nonchalant tone.

Suddenly, memories of an earlier time back in New York when he’d had an overzealous admirer that had turned into amateur stalking flooded Garner’s memory. Stop it, Garner. He doesn’t appear to be the stalker type. And besides, if he were really stalking you, would he tell you about it? He pushed those ridiculous thoughts out of his mind, but he must have still had a concerned look on his face that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain over dinner,” Hank volunteered.

Garner opened his mouth to protest, but Hank held up a finger. “It’s really nothing. I promise.”


Question: What color was the camelback couch in Hank’s living room?

Second Excerpt of Sunrise Over Savannah by Scotty Cade

February 18, 2014


Sunrise Over Savannah


Good Morning Again,

Scotty Cade here again with your second excerpt and question. Remember, you have to answer questions correctly from all three excerpts to be eligible to win.




Doctor Garner Holt stepped through the companionway of his fifty-five foot sailboat, AquaTherapy, carrying a hot cup of coffee and a plate containing a stale cinnamon bagel and what little cream cheese he could scrape out of the container. “Guess it’s time for a grocery stop,” he said to himself as he examined his breakfast. He balanced the plate and cup, trying not to spill either as he made his way onto the bow and took a seat. There was a gentle breeze blowing out of the east and the sun was now peeking just above the horizon. He looked up out of habit to check his rigging and was amazed how the impending sun was causing the lingering dew to glisten like little diamonds. He caught movement to his left and saw a very regal blue heron perched on an old log along the bank with its long beak hovering just above the water, waiting for breakfast to swim by.

His gaze was interrupted when he heard a splash and turned to see a pelican floating right off the starboard bow with its head tipped up and a lump wiggling as it went down its throat. “Damn, even the bird’s breakfast is fresher than mine,” Garner chuckled, taking a bite out of his bagel and chewing and chewing and chewing. After he swallowed, he inhaled the fresh air and sighed. Despite his breakfast, there was beauty in every direction, and he savored the simple moment. “I could never have seen this stuff from my office window at the hospital,” he mused.

For the last nine years before his early retirement, he’d been the head of psychiatrics for the Mount Sinai Medical Center. Back then he’d been a very career-driven man, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. In the beginning, the grueling schedule had been exhilarating, but over the years it had proven to be very detrimental to any sense of a personal life. His job had always come first, which didn’t leave much time for a healthy relationship, though in the beginning he’d tried to juggle both. One failed attempt after another had convinced him that he just wasn’t cut out for relationships, and eventually he stopped trying. Ultimately, the burnout he’d heard about started to descend on him, and the last two years had been a real struggle. One morning he looked in the mirror and realized he no longer recognized his own reflection. He had deep circles under his eyes. He was pale in color and looked much older than his thirty-six years. That morning, he’d decided enough was enough. In the weeks that followed, he’d resigned his position, sold his apartment and all of his belongings, and started to simplify his life. Growing up, he and his dad had been avid sailors. He’d always enjoyed the isolation and quiet pleasure it brought and had dreamed of sailing off into the sunset one day. The day he bought his shiny new Beneteau Oceanis was his “one day!” That had been almost six months ago, and as he made his way to points south, he’d not once regretted his decision to trade his hectic job for a life of exploration on the water.


Garner looked around again and mentally complimented himself. He’d made a great choice yesterday afternoon when he’d chosen to anchor in this very secluded cove just north of Savannah. He’d been on the water for a few months and recalled his journey, which had started in Manhattan. On his first day out, he’d followed the East River to Sandy Hook, New Jersey, spent a few days on the beaches of the Jersey shore, and then sailed the Atlantic Ocean to Cape May, where he entered Delaware Bay. From there, he’d made his way down to the Delaware River and through the manmade waterway connecting the Delaware River with the Chesapeake Bay called the C&D canal. He’d taken his time and enjoyed the many great anchorages along the Chesapeake, eventually ending up in Norfolk, Virginia, where he entered the Intracoastal Waterway, or the “Ditch,” as boat captains call it.

His plan would take him along this well-traveled waterway as far south as Biscayne Bay, where he would again venture out into the Atlantic Ocean and head for the Florida Keys. When he was tired of the Keys, he would head east to the Bahamas and eventually the Caribbean and the Virgin Islands.

Garner finished breakfast and rubbed his aching jaw. “I’ve got to get some groceries before my jaw gives out.”

He went down below, stowed his gear, secured the cabin, and headed topside again to raise the anchor and get his day started. He pressed and held the engine heater button for ten seconds, then pressed the starter. The Westerbeke diesel turned over several times, but it didn’t start. What the hell? She always starts immediately.

He gave it a few seconds and then tried again. Still nothing. “Damn,” he hissed. “This day is going downhill pretty fast.”

Garner glanced at the fuel gauge and mumbled to himself, “Half full.” He checked the other gauges. Engine temperature. “Good.” Oil pressure. “Good.” After verifying everything topside, he went down below and opened the engine compartment. He checked the oil and coolant, and both were well within the normal operating ranges on the dipsticks. Next he checked the fuel filter. It appeared to be clear. Lastly he inspected the water intake strainer to make sure it wasn’t clogged, and it was clear as well. He went topside again and gave it one more try. Nothing. The engine easily turned over so he knew it wasn’t the battery.

He put his hands on his hips and stared at the starter buttons, willing the damn things to work. It just doesn’t seem like the engine is getting any fuel.

“Fuck it,” he said as he went down below again and searched his boat files for his membership card. “That’s why I pay a yearly fee for a towing service.”

He unclipped his cell from his belt and dialed the number, requesting a tow to the nearest marina. He gave the guy his name, his boat’s name, and his GPS coordinates, then ended the call.

While he waited for the towboat, he checked his waterway guide and found the nearest marina was the Thundercloud Marina, about three miles north of his present location. He once again retrieved his cell phone and dialed the number from the waterway guide and waited. After several rings, someone answered.

“Thundercloud Marina, this is Thompson.”

“Good morning, Thompson, my name is Garner Holt. I’m anchored off the Intracoastal a few miles south of you, and I’m having some engine problems.”

“Sorry to hear that, Captain. How can I help?”

“I just requested a tow from BoatUS,” Garner shared. “The guy said he would be here in about an hour, and we’re approximately three miles south of you. Do you have a mechanic on site who can take a look?”

“Yes, sir, we do,” Thompson said. “What type engine?”

“A seventy-five horsepower Westerbeke diesel.”

“Got it,” Thompson said. “I’ll have someone standing by when you get here.”

“Thanks, man, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Garner ended the call. Nice telephone voice.


Questions:  What horsepower and make was the engine on Garner’s sailboat?

Win a copy of Sunrise Over Savannah by Scotty Cade

February 18, 2014

Good Morning,

Sunrise Over Savannah

My name is Scotty Cade and I’m looking so forward to chatting with you today. I’d like to introduce you to my latest novel, “Sunrise Over Savannah,” which released yesterday over at Dreamspinner Press. Here’s a link if you want to take a quick look. http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4716.

This book is very near and dear to my heart and was inspired by a real life person named Thompson and an event that happened at a marina where Thompson worked in Savannah GA. Here’s the Reader’s Digest version:

On one of our many October trips down south on our boat, my husband and I, traveling with our best friends stopped in Savannah GA for an overnight stay. The deck hand who greeted and docked us was one of those young, gorgeous, friendly, and charismatic guys you stumble onto every once in a while. He had shoulder length blonde hair, emerald green eyes and a smile that might, if bottled up, finally achieve world peace. Although we had just met him, we were all instantly drawn to him and knew he was the type that you and everyone else wanted to hang out with. He was just that amazing. As I mentioned, his name was Thompson and the best thing about him was that he seemed oblivious to his charm and good looks or the affect he had on the people around him. Now imagine four homosexuals on a boat, Kell and I in our mid fifties and our friends in their mid seventies all making conversation and batting our eyelashes at this kid. He didn’t blink an eye, just smiled and chatted us up for over an hour. I knew immediately that I wanted to write a book about him, the only issue was the plot line.

Much to my surprise, it didn’t take very long for that to present itself either. The next morning just before sunrise. I was awake early, as we were leaving at first light for our next day on the water, and I always checked my charts and the weather, you know, all the nervous nell stuff boat captains do. So I was on the fly bridge of our boat listening to the marine weather loop sipping my coffee and saw a man standing on the edge of the dock holding his own cup of coffee watching the sun peak over the horizon. For most of the time, all I could see was his back and even with my limited view, I recognized his well, defeated stance . His shoulders were slumped and his head was tilted to one side. It wasn’t until he turned and made his way past our boat that I really saw the solum and forlorn expression he was wearing. The sight took my breath away and haunted me for a long timer. The whole thing left me feeling empty and yearning for answers. I asked around a little, not wanting to pry and no one knew the guy or had even seen him, so I never got the answers I sought. But the image of him on that dock watching the sunrise??? It stayed with me and still today, it is as clear as if it happened yesterday. And for anyone who knows me, if something like this stays with me, it will surely end up a novel or at the very least, in a novel of mine. Weighing heavy on my mind, the story unfolded rather quickly, practically wrote itself and I’m very proud of it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Much to my dismay, when we stopped at the same marina on our latest trip, he was no longer working there, apparently chasing an acting career. Go Thompson! See you in Hollywood!

So with all that said, today I will be giving away three copies of Sunrise Over Savannah eBooks and here’s how I’m gonna do it. Over the course of the morning, I will post three excerpts from the story. At the end of each excerpt, I will ask a question related to that particular excerpt. Starting at two o’clock this afternoon, you can posts your answers and everyone who answers all three questions correctly will be entered in the drawing. At five o’clock I will posts the correct answers and announce the winners.

You’ll need to check in multiple times because you have to get all three answers correct to be entered into the drawing.

Good Luck!



Excerpt from Flare by Posy Roberts

January 13, 2014

To say Kevin, Hugo, and the kids had a bad six months in book two of North StarFusion, is an understatement. In Flare, they are coming out of that funk and trying to live again. Hugo has started to take more work because Kevin hired a nanny, Rowan, and insisted Hugo take more jobs… better jobs. That brings about a whole new set of stressors, and Summer wants to help give the guys a break while sharing the great outdoors with the kids.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Ten of Flare.


SUMMER AND Russell had insisted on taking the kids camping up north in the Iron Range. Rowan begged to go along too once she heard where they were headed. They’d be spending a week in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, portaging from one body of water to another, cooking over an open flame, and camping in the wilderness. Kevin had been more than pleased they hadn’t asked him to join them—at thirty-six years old, sleeping on the ground rather than in a bed was not what it had been at sixteen. He also made sure Rowan knew what she was truly getting into before she agreed. Apparently her time in Montana had toughened her up to roughing it, and she was looking forward to a week in the forest.

“There’s been enough crazy, in a bad way,” Summer had said as a way to convince Kevin to agree to their plans. “Now Brooke and Finn need crazy in a good way. They need to see all the beauty that’s out there for them to explore.”

“Says the nature girl who’s gonna wear makeup every day she’s camping.” Hugo teased her despite all the time Kevin had heard him refer to Summer as his Earth Mama.

“Shut it, Cherrie. You love makeup just as much as I do,” she retorted, and Kevin couldn’t help but laugh at the good-natured banter between best friends. It was even funnier when Hugo shrugged, clearly giving the points to Summer on that argument, and then he watched Hugo pull out his pomegranate-raspberry lip balm and dramatically spread it over his lips, then smack them in Summer’s direction. Hugo could be a sassy little tease when he wanted, and apparently right then, he wanted to be. Kevin pulled his head back into the original conversation about camping, pushing out his desire to lick and suck at Hugo’s glistening lips.

“But you’ll be out in the middle of nowhere without cell phone coverage,” Kevin said, airing his fear of not being able to get in contact if something went wrong like a nightmare or injury.

“That’s part of the beauty, Kevin. Kids nowadays are too connected. Getting them away from electricity will be good for ’em. How else will they learn about how hard life is without power? And we’ll take care of everything else. Seriously,” Summer said with such conviction as she held out a complicated compass in her palm as if the antiquated tool should somehow remove all doubt. Kevin relented because he trusted her. Summer was a teacher, after all, taking care of twenty-odd kids on a daily basis. And there were Rowan and Russell as well.

Of course, Kevin had also gone to REI and spent far too much money on camping gear for his kids, demanding the best of everything. Hugo had laughed, reminding him about the time in high school when they had literally slept outside on one of their fishing trips because Kevin had forgotten the tent in his garage beside his dad’s car.

“They’ll survive without GPS and platinum sporks. I promise,” Hugo teased as they waved good-bye to the kids while Russell drove away.

Kevin and Hugo, on the other hand, were spending their second to last week of summer at the lake floating on the water, water-skiing, and trying to make the most of their time together. Lulu lazed about, sunning herself on the dock and then moving to the shady part of the deck, even getting in the water and swimming about to cool herself off.

It had been a trying few months with all the legal bullshit and the time Hugo had spent away from home. Despite his concerns over his kids being in the wilderness, they were with three responsible adults, and he honestly needed to have some time to relax.

As soon as it was dark out, Hugo had stripped, unsurprisingly, and jumped off the end of the dock.

“Always skinny-dipping, aren’t you?” Kevin joked.

“Always following me in, aren’t you?” Hugo looking up at Kevin who was still standing on the dock fully clothed. It was so dark out, just a sliver of the moon and tiny pinpricks of stars dotting the sky. Kevin could barely see Hugo from the nipples down because he was treading water. His pale body floating atop the dark surface was another story altogether, and moments after that thought flew through Kevin’s mind, he was dropping his clothes to the wooden dock.

Kevin jumped in the cool water and swam close to Hugo, then wrapped his arms and legs around his torso so Hugo was forced to tread water for both of them. Hugo drifted closer to shore and was soon planting both feet on the lake bed rather than struggling against the water. He held on to Kevin’s ass, holding him up, pulling him in tighter.

“I am always following you, you know that?” Kevin said.

“I’ve noticed, but why?” Hugo gave him a sly, sweet smile.

“Something about you always knowing where you’re going or some such nonsense.” Kevin smirked as he tugged on Hugo’s North Star pendant.

Nature is a huge part of North Star, and Hugo and Kevin find many ways to relax outdoors: fishing, swimming, ice skating, water skiing, hiking, boating, to name a few. I’ve been many places to relax, and water is one of the best tools to help me feel calm.

Where was the most serene place that helped you truly shed the worries of your world? What was it about that place that made it so relaxing? Or is there a locale you want to visit that you think will be “your spot”?

Cupcakes, the naughty excerpt

January 9, 2014

I do love my smut, so of course I’m going to share a ‘naughty’ excerpt of Cupcakes.

(And forgive me if I’m overusing the cover, but I adore it!)


Naughty Excerpt:

A moment later, Allen hung up and turned to him. “They’ll be about forty-five minutes.”

“So we have forty-five minutes to kill, eh? Whatever shall we do?” Bit grinned at Allen.

“Pool? TV?” Allen’s eyes were dancing.

“Pool has potential. Especially if I need you to show me a move or two.”

“You’re taller than me. You’ll have to show me.”

“As long as we’re snuggled up together, I’m not picky who’s showing who.”

Nodding, Allen moved to the cue rack and picked one out. Bit joined him, standing close. Allen’s tight, tiny ass pushed right up against his cock. Groaning, he pushed right back, let Allen feel him firm up for the man.

“Mmm. B. You’re warm.”

“Getting downright hot, actually.”

That happy little chuckle made him smile, and he slid his hand down to wrap around Allen’s hip.

“Are you going to show me how to play?” Allen asked.

“Mmm. I do believe I am.” Leaning down and over Allen’s shoulder, he rubbed their cheeks together. Allen felt like heaven underneath him, stretching and shifting. Wanting Allen to feel just as good, he let his free hand drift to rub Allen’s belly. “You smell good.”

“Do you think so? It’s just soap and shampoo.”

“And you.” Burying his nose in Allen’s neck, he breathed in deeply.

“Oh….” He felt Allen shiver, ass rocking back against him.

He nodded, licked the neck he’d been sniffing. “God, I want you, Allen.”

“Oh.” His tiny little ass rolled again, Allen rubbing against his cock.

Pressing his hand against Allen’s package, Bit pulled Allen back against him. Hard, heavy in his pants, Allen’s prick pressed toward Bit’s touch.

“Let me touch you,” he murmured, lips moving on Allen’s skin.

“Yes. Yes, please.” Allen nodded, head bobbing. He reached one of his hands down, sliding the zipper open.

After moving his hand long enough to let Allen undo the zipper and pop open his top button, Bit slid his hand into Allen’s underwear, moaning as his fingers connected with hot, silky flesh.

The touch got him a soft cry, the sound desperate and hungry. He was willing to bet no one but Allen had touched this flesh since his lover had died. Wrapped his fingers around Allen’s cock, Bit tugged it out into the air.

Thick, eager, Allen’s cock pushed along his palm. Moaning against Allen’s neck, he rubbed across the tip, revelling in the hot drop that pushed against his thumb and spread around the head. He could smell Allen now, musky and male, wanton.

Licking his way up Allen’s neck to his chin, Bit brought their lips together as his hand slowly worked the velvet flesh in his hand.

The pool cue clattered to the table, but he ignored it and began stroking Allen faster.

“Oh. Oh God. B. B, please….” Sweet, hungry man.


You’ll have to pick up a copy to see how it ends! Cupcakes is here.

Sean Michael

smut fixes everything – www.seanmichaelwrites.com



Jurassic Heart – Excerpt

December 27, 2013


Jurassic Heart by Anna Martin - http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4542


Chapter 1

“So, Eric White thinks he’s found a velociraptor skeleton in Alberta.”

I leaned back in my chair with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder and propped my boots up on the desk, appreciating the heavy thunk as they set down and the cloud of dust they emitted—dust that would have been invisible were it not for the late-May sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Eric wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow.”

“Arse? You’ve been in London for too long, kid.” Sam’s accent, on the other hand, was broad New Jersey. I was silently amused at this. “Call Mim.”

“Miriam is eight months pregnant and can’t bend over to put her socks on, let alone bend over a dig,” Sam said.

Shit. I should have known that. “She’s got a few weeks left, just send her up there. Quick peek, nope, it’s a triceratops, send her home again.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Nick. You need to go.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” I said, keeping my voice airy and disinterested. Fucking with Sam was one of my favorite activities. “I quite like London, you know. I might stay here.” When he snarled, I laughed. “I have ends to tie up,” I warned him. “I can’t pack my bags and leave tomorrow.”

“But you’ll go?”

“What’s the pay?”

“Standard consultant rate. I can get you five hundred a day.”

“All right,” I said. Really, both of us knew this would be the outcome of the conversation right from the start. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Sam said. “I’ve booked your flight and e-mailed you the details. You leave from Heathrow on Saturday. Don’t miss it.”

“Damn it, Sam,” I yelled down the phone, but Sam’s response was the steady beep of the dial tone.


Nick – who’s the main character of Jurassic - isn’t your average romance novel hero. He’s the dorky, antisocial, science-mad Jewish kid who grew up into a hipster hottie. He’s quite self-depreciating, which I find enormous fun to write, and as my editor put it, a “flawed first person narrator”.

To balance Nick out, I knew I wanted someone earthy where Nick is scientific, romantic where Nick is practical, broad and physical where Nick is skinny and slim. That’s Hunter. Right from the start I saw him as a First Nations character (the book is set in Alberta, Canada) who’s a little older and wiser than Nick. The two men rub up against each other in all the wrong ways to start with – their moral compasses point in entirely opposite directions and their respective outlooks on life is at odds with each other.  It takes an outside threat – to them both – for the boys to start to bond.

I couldn’t possibly write about characters without mentioning Boner. I think naming a paleontologist “Boner” was supposed to make my good friend Tush (writer Melanie Tushmore) laugh. It did. George Tsakoumis, to use his full name, is Nick’s best friend who turns up on the dig to help out. I love Nick and Hunter, but I LOVE Boner. LOVE him.

If you’d like to see the characters as I imagine them, I’ve got a Pinterest board with all their pictures. Let me know what you think!


Release Day Special Excerpt (#nsfw, #mmromance) Jaded by @emlynley

December 11, 2013

Today is the release of Gingerbread Palace at Dreamspinner, but I wanted to share a little taste of my last DSP release. I didn’t get a chance to do a blog party for JADED, since I did a Facebook chat.

JADED is book 3 in my Precious Gems Series. It’s “Indiana Jones Meets Romancing the Stone–only gayer.”  If you like some mystery/suspense, adventure and globetrotting, this one is for you.


Precious Gems: Book Three
Sequel to Italian Ice

Gay-romance writer Trent Copeland finds his life in a rut while his boyfriend, Special Agent Reed Acton, is away on an undercover mission. After attending a special course at FBI headquarters in Quantico, Trent’s eager for another challenge. He jumps at the opportunity for a trip to Japan to oversee appraisals of two art collections to be sold at the gallery he co-owns. But the trip isn’t all cherry blossoms and Hello Kitty. When one of the collectors he meets—rumored to be the head of a Yakuza gang—turns up dead, Trent is accused of the murder and thrown in jail.

Reed drops everything to help find out who really committed the crime. He’s in unknown territory in Japan, forced to navigate Tokyo’s sex underworld to unravel the truth and save Trent. He poses as a “host” at a seedy late-night club. When Reed’s undercover activities place him at a ruthless Yakuza leader’s sex party, he must be willing to go to any lengths to secure Trent’s safety and freedom. But trusting the wrong people brings both Reed and Trent to the Yakuza leader’s attention. If they’re ever to have a happy ever after, they’ll first have to call on every skill just to stay alive.



“Ready for breakfast?” Trent called from the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Reed rubbed a towel over his wet hair and hung it up in the bathroom. He didn’t bother to put on any clothes for breakfast. It was part of their routine when he came home. First twenty-four hours were clothing free, unless they were going out.

He walked into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Trent’s bare ass as he stood in front of the stove. The ties of an apron around his waist curled down over the pale globes of flesh.

“Mmmm,” he half growled as he came up and pressed himself to Trent’s back.

“Apparently you didn’t take a cold shower. But I like that.” Trent turned his head and met Reed for a wet kiss. “Sit down, it’s almost ready.”

“I’m hungry.” Reed didn’t want to let go of Trent, but he sat at the table.

Trent flipped pancakes from the skillet onto plates and set them down.

“Smells great. But you know the rules.” He pointed to the apron. It was pretty small, just enough to protect from the dangers of cooking while nude. He liked the way Trent’s cock pushed it out and away from his body. Trent hadn’t had a cold shower either.

Trent presented his back to Reed and bent over just enough to tease. Reed slipped his hand between Trent’s legs and cupped his balls with one hand and untied the apron with the other. “Now you can eat.”

“Thank you.” Trent sat and put a dab of butter and a drizzle of syrup on his pancakes.

Reed looked down at his plate and noticed the pancake had a little smiley face. A sort of smiley face. The mouth was crooked. “I think this guy needs to go to the dentist.”

“Oh, you do? How does it taste?”

“Delicious.” Reed chewed and smiled.

Trent ate his pancakes in silence.

“Can you make some more? Reed asked.

“More? You want more?” Trent stood up.

“Yes, please?” Reed pulled him in with an arm around his waist. He kissed Trent’s navel and intended to move lower when Trent disengaged himself. He went back to the stove, sans apron. Reed enjoyed the scenery.

“Here you go.” Trent brought the skillet over and flipped the pancake out onto Reed’s plate.

He stared. It was shaped like a dick, with two smaller round pancakes at one end. “That’s cute.”

“That’s for you, you dick. Complaining about my smiley pancake. Dick!” Trent dropped the skillet in the sink and it sizzled as it hit water. “That’s the only dick you’ll get in your mouth this weekend. Enjoy it!” He strode out of the room.

“Trent, I’m sorry. It was cute. I liked it. Thank you.” Reed got up and followed Trent. He was in the bedroom putting on underwear. “That’s against the rules.”

“Those rules don’t count when you’re being a dick.” Trent turned his back to Reed.

“I don’t remember that, Trent. Dickery doesn’t cancel out the no-clothes rule.” He heard a muffled sound. Trent was trying not to laugh. He put a hand over his mouth, and Reed spun him around. Trent’s eyes betrayed his mirth. “You’re going to have to take them off, Trent.”

“Make me.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” Reed grabbed for the waistband and Trent moved out of his reach but fell onto the bed. He put up a token amount of resistance, but Reed got the shorts off. The struggle had Trent panting slightly and he was half-hard. Reed leaned down and took Trent into his mouth, completing the process. “Delicious.”

“Please, sir, may I have some more?”

“Do you deserve it?”


And he did, so Reed obliged.

 * * * *

Order Jaded from Dreamspinner Press

Use coupon code LynleyBlog for an extra 25% off December 11 and 12.