A Fairy in His Bed by Aundrea Singer and Corinna Silver — Another Excerpt

October 16, 2010

Here’s another excerpt from A Fairy in His Bed by Aundrea Singer (taste_is_sweet on Live Journal) and Corinna Silver, available in the Myths And Magic: Legends Of Love Anthology. Here, Daniel finally meets the fairy Quinn face-to-face.

Daniel didn’t remember falling asleep, but he knew he had to be dreaming.

There was someone else in the room. It was a man–very, very obviously a man. He was naked, tall and lanky with hair that fell in soft, messy curls around his forehead and neck. The effect made him look both cherubic and dangerous, like a seraphim recently thrown out of heaven. His smile was as innocent and sweet as it was a direct, unmistakable invitation.

“What are you doing here?” Daniel asked, curious but unconcerned because he was so obviously dreaming. He sat up, letting the coverlet slide down his chest to pool around his hips. He felt languid and slow, like a cat curled up by the fire. Whoever this stranger was, Daniel was certain he meant no harm.

“I’m here to thank you,” the man said, moving onto the bed. He had a British accent, which made Daniel smirk at himself, wondering idly what kind of Freudian significance there might be in this man sounding like his mother.

“Thank me?” Daniel asked vaguely. He was too distracted by the man to worry about the answer to his question. At first glance the man’s hair had just looked like a warm chestnut brown, but now that he was closer Daniel could see that it was actually a rainbow of browns and reds, like leaves in autumn. His eyes were a mixture of green and brown, flecked with gold. Daniel realized he shouldn’t have been able to see the other man so clearly with only the streetlight barely illuminating the room, but it was as if the man was surrounded with light.

“You’re gorgeous,” Daniel murmured, distantly pleased with himself that he had such a great imagination. “What’s your name?”

The stranger’s laugh sounded like cool water rushing over smooth stones. “Quinn,” he said with his lilting accent. He was pulling the coverlet back while he spoke, exposing Daniel’s legs. “And you’re gorgeous, too.”

“Thank you,” Daniel said, which made Quinn laugh. Quinn had dimples in his cheeks, which only emphasized his veneer of innocence. “My name is Daniel.”

“Hello, Daniel,” Quinn said. “I want to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” Daniel said faintly. He’d gone to bed without a shirt and Quinn’s warm hands on his shoulders made him shiver. Quinn straddled Daniel’s legs, nestling their groins together. He moved his hands to the sides of Daniel’s face, then leaned in and finally kissed him.

A Fairy in His Bed by Aundrea Singer and Corinna Silver

October 16, 2010

Hello! I’m Aundrea Singer. I posted here last about my short story Skunk, Bryan, Spoon (And A Badger) in the Necking Anthology, which you can read about here. Now I’m extremely happy to be able to tell you about A Fairy in His Bed, a short story in the new Myths and Magic: Legends Of Love Anthology, which I wrote with the lovely and talented Corinna Silver.

A Fairy in His Bed was actually written for the Brush Of Wings Anthology, when we saw the call for submissions late last year. We thought it would be fun to choose an otherworldly being that wasn’t an angel, and ended up with Quinn, a fairy as whimsical as he is beautiful, and Daniel Tibbits, the cynical, heartbroken writer who accidentally inherits him.

Inherits? Oh, yes….

A Fairy in His Bed was created in an eight day whirlwind of brainstorming, manic typing and a lot of laughing. I’ve rarely had so much fun writing a story, and a story has rarely come so quickly or easily as this one. Writing with my best friend made its own magic.

Equally magical was the warm reception our labor of love received at Dreamspinner. They asked if they could use A Fairy in His Bed for Myths And Magic: Legends Of Love. We were thrilled to have our story included with so many excellent authors.

Corinna and I fell quite in love with Daniel and Quinn, and we hope you do too. Here’s an excerpt of the first time Quinn and Daniel meet, though Daniel doesn’t know it….

It had been one of the worst days Daniel Tibbits had ever endured, and that was before his stupid cats tried to kill him.

“God damn it!” Daniel swore as he climbed to his feet. He brushed uselessly at the wet snow that had ground into the knees of his pant legs. He glared at the three black and white cats who were circling him unrepentantly, head-butting whatever parts they could reach and bawling at him as if Daniel had been away for months instead of barely an afternoon. Dewy sniffed at his pant leg, apparently none the worse for wear despite nearly being kicked as she tripped him. Daniel started petting her automatically, glowering the whole time. He hit the cold-stiffened cloth of his jeans a little too hard and winced, since he’d managed to scrape off what felt like sixty layers of skin off his palms when his hands had hit the icy pavement. “This is exactly what I need,” he snarled at the cats, squinting at his upturned hands in December’s early dark. They were stinging, but at least he didn’t see any blood. “With my luck, I’ll probably get gangrene,” Daniel muttered. At least his agent might get off his back if he didn’t have any fingers.

“All right, already! All right! You’re hungry, I get it!” he said to the yowling cats. “Can you at least let me get inside the house?” The cats naturally ignored him. “For Pete’s sake, it’s not like I never–ah, fuck.” Daniel took a deep breath, then closed his eyes as he let out a heavy sigh.

He’d dropped the teapot when Dewy had tripped him, and it had smashed on the walkway. Of course.

Daniel sighed again. He rubbed at his face and pushed his snow-damp hair off his forehead. It was a standard ‘Brown Betty’ teapot, the kind everyone sung about in kindergarten: short, stocky and dark red-brown. The shards were still gleaming cheerfully, scattered amongst the freshly-fallen snow.

“Fuck,” Daniel said again. He picked up one of the larger pieces and used it as a receptacle for two smaller fragments. He started searching for the other bits, but the teapot had practically exploded on the front walkway. To do the job properly he’d need a broom, and some daylight. The dark shards were nearly impossible to see in the quickly deepening twilight.

“Fuck!” Daniel threw down the pieces he’d been holding, watching them burst with vicious satisfaction against the concrete. “That’s my life, right there,” he said. “And because I’m such a fucking hack, that’s the best metaphor I can come up with.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

Daniel shook his head. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He trudged the rest of the distance from the sidewalk to the wooden steps of his front porch, fishing in his jacket pocket for his keys. The cats followed him eagerly, still giving the occasional mewl as if making sure he didn’t forget them.

The house had been built in the 1920s. The floors creaked and all the doors stuck and the stairs were treacherous, but the lights Daniel had left on that morning were shining brightly through the windows and he knew it would be cozy and warm after the freezing night outside. Right then it was all Daniel had to look forward to. He opened the door.

A short puff of warm air blew by his cheek.


You can read Aundrea Singer’s Live Journal Blog here, and I’d love to get your email at aundrea.singer@gmail.com

Home excerpt #2 (PG)

September 13, 2010


Eli sat up on the bed, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He held his mop of dark brown hair out of his eyes and glanced at the clock face. Bollocks! He was running behind everyone else, so he quickly scrounged up some sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed his cane, and then went into his bathroom to splash some water on his face.

Looking in the mirror, he tried to recall the dream he’d been having. He smiled, realizing it had been about his and Alec’s first time. But even as the edges of the dream began fading and blurring, he clung to the memory of that walk the two of them had taken in the freezing November air and the heat they’d generated in bed that night. Something had happened after, later that night, but it skirted away from him as he tried to catch the memory.

He went back into his bedroom to slip on some shoes and smiled at the sunshine and fresh April breeze pouring through his window. The sounds of activity outside reminded him that the others had been up for some time already. Tony and Lyle were moving out today, and he didn’t want to miss their send-off.

Reaching the front doorway of the house, Eli cringed as he watched Alec and Dray preparing to lift a bureau into the rented truck.


“Lift with your legs.”

“One, two… lift!”

“This cannot be good for my back,” Dray said as he straightened up and walked backward, bearing his half of the weight. Alec remained on the ground, lifting the bureau above his head.

Convinced he could hear Alec’s muscles screaming, Eli bit his bottom lip, fearing permanent damage to his man. He smiled. My man. Alec’s shirt was wet at the pits and chest, with sprinkles of moisture on the back, and his dark hair hung stringy and dripping on his head. After the bureau’s four feet were firmly on the truck’s bed, Alec hopped aboard and helped Dray carry it deeper in and secure it for the trip to their friends’ new flat.

The two of them were out of sight for only a few moments, but it was long enough for Eli’s suspicions of what Dray might be trying with his boyfriend to nearly flare into action. He stopped himself. He trusted Alec, and they’d obviously been working together for hours without his supervision.

Still, he fidgeted uncomfortably as he waited. I forgot you were going to be here, Mr. Jenkins. Dray had been pursuing Alec relentlessly since meeting him at their annual Last Blast campout the year before.

The two men reappeared, Alec looking no worse for wear, and he hopped deftly to the ground and grabbed a bottled water, while Dray remained above, leaning against the inside of the truck and chatting amiably to him.

Panting from the exertion—or, as Eli suspected, for show—Dray stared down at Alec like a starving man looks at a cheeseburger with the works. Eli glanced at his boyfriend and knew he didn’t see it. Alec looked at Dray, at his casual body language, at his easy, relaxed demeanor, and saw only that. Eli’s eyes narrowed as he watched Dray. He doesn’t feel you watching him from the tall grass, you arrogant tosser.

“You stare any harder at Dray, and he’ll burst into flames,” Ilsa whispered in Eli’s ear, startling him.

“I’m… n-not.” Eli fought hard not to blush, but it didn’t work.

Ilsa eyed him skeptically. “Riiiight. And I’m not an ample, sexy sistah from Louisiana.” Eli smiled against his will. “Finish this for me,” she said, passing him a mug of hot coffee as she dug her keys out of her pocket. “There’s iced tea in the fridge, if anyone wants any. And there’s casserole left over from last night.” She kissed him on the cheek. “See you tonight.” She skipped down the front stairs and went to her car. “I hope they keep the party going until we get there, because I’ll be too tired to start it up again when I arrive.” She dropped behind the wheel and was gone before Eli remembered to wave.

He sipped the coffee and returned his attention to Alec and Alec’s stalker. Dray gripped the top of the truck with both hands, stretching, elongating his perfect torso and giving Alec an eyeful. A fine sheen of sweat coated his dark skin, most notably his shaved head, as he continued to smile down at Alec with that electric smile of his. His jeans were just tight enough to accentuate his package, while not hindering his activities.

He leaned down suddenly and snatched Alec’s water from his hand, then proceeded to gulp it down as Alec watched, apparently enraptured. Eli’s grip tightened on his cane. He swore he could see Dray’s throat working, even from this distance. Dray drained the bottle dry just as Alec glanced toward the house, catching Eli’s eye. They exchanged smiles. Dray followed Alec’s gaze and frowned slightly, tossing the empty bottle over his shoulder and into the back of the truck.

He gripped the red fabric handle of the sliding door and, after giving the contents one last look, leaped to the ground, pulling the door with him. It sounded like a gunshot and reverberated throughout their neighborhood, announcing that someone was leaving.

“I think that’s it,” Tony said. Eli turned to see him in the hallway, struggling with two canvases as he shoved two huge suitcases ahead of him with his knees.

“That’s it, huh?” Eli asked, laughing. “Are you certain?”

“Had a bit of a lie-in this morning, eh?” Tony asked as Eli joined him, draining his mug and setting it on the hall table before grabbing hold of one of the suitcases. “Don’t bother with that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Eli’s expression darkened briefly, but he leaned on his cane before lifting the case effortlessly. “I’m a lot stronger than I was last year.” Eli turned away from his friend. “I’ve been working out regularly.” He carried the bag to the front door, but paused, momentarily befuddled by the stairs he couldn’t manage.

“I bet you have,” Tony said as he watched Alec running toward them.

“Hey, I got these,” Alec said, relieving Eli and Tony of their burdens and running back down the stairs with the bags toward Tony’s car.

“He seems to have an alarming amount of energy,” Tony said, peering at Alec’s rather fit, retreating form before pulling out his sunglasses.

Eli went a bit pink, but he had no intention of sharing any intimate details with the artist. And it was probably best that Tony not know that he and Alec had fucked in nearly every room in the house since getting together last November—a feat difficult to accomplish with three other housemates who followed hectic, unpredictable schedules.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” Eli asked as he unconsciously rubbed his hipbone and considered talking to Ilsa about getting carpet for the living room.

Touch Me Gently Virtual Book Signing Cont…2

September 3, 2010

Second Excerpt:

Happy that he and Logan had the house to themselves, Kaden tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. Something had changed inside him that morning. When Logan had uttered those words to him in the hayloft, the final chip of ice on his heart had given way, melting away to nothing. He knew that he’d fallen in love with the big cowboy, a head over heels, fireworks-exploding-in-the-air kind of love. The realization left him with the desire to be closer to him, to explore another side of their relationship in the physical sense. His fear hadn’t just disappeared, and his hands shook as he washed the dishes from their dinner. Could he go through with it? It wouldn’t be fair to Logan if he started and had to stop in the middle. Determination to show Logan that he held complete trust in him stiffened Kaden’s spine, and he refused to allow his past to keep them from being together. He would just remind himself that Logan loved him, and would never hurt him, abuse him, or touch him with the intention of causing pain.

Logan could sense Kaden’s nervousness and wondered if his confession that morning had upset him. It caused him to doubt his certainty that Kaden felt the same, and as always, he couldn’t let Kaden brood over whatever had upset him, so Logan asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Kaden looked up from the dish he was drying only to find Logan’s eyes studying him intently. “N… no. Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think that?”

“You seem awfully jumpy if nothing’s wrong,” Logan commented.

Logan reminded Kaden of a detective. He had a way of seeing things most people wouldn’t. Or maybe he wore his emotions on his face like a coat on his body. Kaden had never been good at hiding his feelings. So he sighed and said, “Let me finish these, and then I’ll show you what’s wrong.”

Logan’s brow furrowed at the boy’s choice of words, but he shrugged and stood up to help him finish the dishes. Once they’d been put away, Logan took Kaden by the hand and led him into the living room. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Kaden didn’t know quite how to put it, but he supposed he should just come out with it. Taking a deep breath, he looked Logan in the eyes and said, “I want you to make love to me.”

“No,” Logan refused stiffly, standing up to move restlessly around the room.

“B-but why? Don’t you… want me?” Kaden asked hoarsely, fingering the hem of his T-shirt, his heart pounding hard and fast. He didn’t understand the cowboy’s denial of his request. Did Logan really mean everything he’d said? Or did Logan say those things about his body being beautiful just to give him confidence?

“Kaden, I want you more than anything else in this world, but I won’t let you force yourself into something that you aren’t ready for,” Logan said heatedly, fiercely. His green eyes flashed, and his lips were turning white around the edges with how tightly he pulled them in.

“How do you know I’m not ready?” Kaden demanded, standing up straighter and glaring at Logan. “Why do you get to decide that? It’s my body and my choice. I….” He softened his words, looking down at his shoes. “I want you, Logan. Truly, sincerely want you. Please.” His voice had dipped to a mere breath of a whisper, and he blinked furiously, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt further.

Logan warred with his inner mind. He wanted to accept Kaden at his word so badly that it hurt, but how could the younger man truly know what he wanted? Sighing, he moved closer to Kaden, taking him gently into his arms and cradling him close to his chest. He rested his chin on top of the kid’s head lightly. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”


He pulled back to gaze down at Kaden, a stern expression dominating his face. “If you feel afraid or uncomfortable, you are to tell me, immediately. Do you hear me?”

Nodding, Kaden beamed up at Logan, the grin beginning to fade as the emerald eyes darkened with passion. He licked his lips, wetting them and drawing those jewels to stare at his mouth. A squeak emerged from Kaden’s throat when Logan suddenly swept him up in his arms and started up the stairs to his bedroom. Logan slowly set Kaden on his feet, brushing a lock of dark hair back from his face before lowering his lips to cover Kaden’s. Kaden reached up to wrap his arms around Logan’s neck, his fingers twining in the sandy blond hair as they kissed.

Touch Me Gently Virtual Book Signing

September 3, 2010

Good evening, everyone! I’m sure if you’re here you already know my name is J.R. Loveless. Although some of you may know me better as LovelessSoubi from the website Aarinfantasy. At least, I hope that there are some readers from Aarin here tonight. Let me start off by saying how thankful I am to Dreamspinner Press for accepting my story and giving me a chance to fulfill a dream. Writing has been a part of my life since I was a child. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. DSP has made the possibility of sharing my work with everyone a reality. They are an amazing group of people to work with and I pray to have the chance to do so again!

If you’ve read my bio, you’ll know that I live in Florida, that I have a dog and a cat, and I am totally obsessed with Doctor Who. What you don’t know is everything you’ll be learning about me and my characters tonight. How I relate to Kaden, where he came from in my mind, and what he taught me as I put his story down on paper. I’m going to start off by giving a small excerpt from the book about Kaden, and follow it throughout the next three hours with a few anecdotes about me and writing, a couple of contests for free e-books, and another excerpt from the story. Feel free to comment, ask questions, and of course, request an autograph on your book. ;-)



Kaden James shot upright in bed, gasping for breath, his body sweating profusely and soaking the sheets around him. Terror pounded through him as he remembered what he had tried so hard to forget. His violet eyes wandered around the shabby one-room apartment he rented, searching for any demons hidden in the shadows. He slumped back down onto the bed, struggling to control his breathing and to stem the flood of terror. That day’s events had opened the door to his memories again. Nineteen now, he lived alone, and today he’d been fired from another job. Fear of large men always ended up getting him fired because he couldn’t control his panic attacks. Sighing, Kaden ran a thin, shaking hand over his face. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, he rolled out of bed to make himself a cup of coffee.

He flicked on a light and wandered over to the sink to fill the coffeepot with water. He set it to brew and sat down to wait, lighting up a cigarette. The apartment he lived in was all that he could afford, dingy and small with only one room that consisted of the kitchen, the bedroom, and a small adjoining bathroom that you could barely turn around in. His hand lifted to trace the ugly scar that ran from the corner of his left eye in a curve down to the corner of his mouth. No one wanted to hire him for anything other than grunt work because of his face. Most people found it difficult not to stare and wonder or be disgusted and turn away. Tomorrow he would have to go back to the labor agency and see if they had anything else for him. The manager had to be getting tired of him, but he couldn’t change the deep-seated fear that crippled him and sent him to his knees.

The coffee finished brewing as he stubbed out his cigarette, and he grabbed the only mug he owned, rinsed it out, and filled it with piping hot coffee. Sniffing appreciatively, he took a hesitant sip, wincing when it burned the tip of his tongue. He’d always been slender and almost feminine in some ways. His shoulder-length black hair, shaggy around his face, gave him an even more feminine appearance. It attracted men in a way he didn’t want. He might look tiny, only five foot six, but he was strong physically due to the many jobs he’d taken requiring heavy lifting. Despite the muscle he’d gained from those jobs, he still cowered when faced with dominating males. Emotionally unstable from everything that had happened in his life, he tried his best not to let those thoughts and memories control him.

Dawn spreading across the sky, Kaden rose to shower and dress in one of the few outfits he owned. Locking his door behind him, deadbolt and all, he trudged down the stairs, stepping around the drunken bum that lay at the bottom. The area he resided in couldn’t be considered the most sanitary, nor the safest, but it was cheap and the only thing he could afford. Traffic had already started flowing heavily along the streets of New York City as he slowly wound his way through the crowds of passersby toward the labor agency. When he arrived, he gave Terry Reynolds, the manager, a tentative smile.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, kid,” Terry admonished quietly. He didn’t know the kid’s story but he knew something bad had happened to him. The haunted look that shadowed the boy’s eyes told him that much at least.

“How many jobs has that been in three weeks? Five? Let me see if I have anything else,” he said with a sigh, and Kaden gave him a grateful look, plopping down into one of the cracked vinyl chairs in the front office while Terry wandered back into his own.

Thirty minutes went by before Terry returned to the front office. He’d come up with a great idea, at least he hoped Kaden thought so. “Listen, Kaden, would you be willing to get out of the city?”

“What?” Kaden asked, his voice hoarse. He didn’t use it much. No friends and fear of strangers kept him silent a good portion of the time.

“Well, I know you have trouble with big groups of people, but my cousin needs someone on his ranch in Montana. To cook and clean. Can you cook?”

Kaden stared at him in surprise. He was an excellent cook, if he thought so himself. He loved to cook and had been doing so since he was twelve. “I… don’t know what they would think. I like to think I’m a pretty good cook. But… Montana?” The idea suddenly appealed to him, getting out of the city and away from the huge crowds of people.

“It’s only for three months, though. After that, you’d have to find something else. You see, he has a lot more workers and ranch hands coming in during the next few months because of roundup season and all. So he needs someone who can make food and lots of it. Can I trust you to do this, kid?” Terry asked him softly.

Kaden nodded and then looked down at his hands. “What about my apartment?”

“You’ll have to let it go. But if anything, when the three months are up, you can stay with me until you find another one,” Terry offered eagerly.

“Will your cousin mind that I’m a… guy?” Kaden asked quietly.

“I already called him. He knows you’re a guy and doesn’t care as long as you can cook. It’s not like you’re going to be sleeping with him or anything.”

Kaden’s head shot up and his eyes widened with panic, but Terry’s words sank in, and he nodded. “All right. I guess that’ll be fine.”

“Good. You’ll leave tomorrow. There’ll be a plane ticket waiting for you at the airport,” Terry told him.

He stood up jerkily, unsure of what the hell he had just gotten himself into, and headed back to his apartment to pack up the very minor belongings he had. There were few personal items since the apartment had been partially furnished when he rented it. The only things he had to take with him included several articles of clothing, the coffeepot, and the journals that he wrote lyrics in. He loved to write songs, beautiful heartbreaking songs. Something to get his fears out, and his desire to be loved, even though he knew that would never happen because of the emotional and physical scars he carried.

Sleepwalking…in fiction and in real life, by Devon Rhodes

May 9, 2010

They say write what you know, and thus my short story in the Necking anthology, Neighbors By Day, Naughty By Night, was launched. It’s amazing what the subconscious can do, and I brought a lot of my own past experiences with sleepwalking into my story. Some readers may think: there’s no way someone could do that while asleep, but I’m living proof…check it out and decide for yourself!

Here is the blurb and an excerpt. Enjoy!

Normally, finding the hot neighbor in bed with your boyfriend would be the end, not the beginning, of a wonderful relationship.

Jason wakes up to find Marty in their bed, and it makes him wonder whether he’s made a big mistake in committing to Kevin. Marty’s mortified; he’s loved Jason from afar for years, but never had the courage to act on it. And Kevin is plotting something naughty that will give all three men what they’ve wanted all along….


Dawn gave way to morning, gradually and imperceptibly lightening the room. Jason rolled blindly toward still-sleeping Kevin to spoon up behind him, pressing his morning wood up against that perfect, unbelievably rounded ass as he ran a hand slowly down Kevin’s smooth flank. Kevin shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent, arching back against Jason with a sexy subconscious rub. Jason stifled a groan as the counter-pressure had him bucking forward, his lassitude instantly evaporating. Feeling a slight prick of guilt for waking his night owl partner so early, he justified the green light to himself: since it was the weekend, they could go back to sleep afterwards.

He slid his hand around to search for Kevin’s cock. But instead of that gorgeous, stiff prick he was expecting to find, his hand hit….

Jason’s eyes flew open as adrenaline jolted through him.

Another ass?

What the fuck?



His name being hissed urgently and way too loudly in his ear brought Kevin swimming up into a semblance of awareness.

He attempted to respond but only managed to make a slightly inquiring noise buried in the back of his throat.

He must’ve drifted right back to sleep again, because an increasingly pissed sounding, “Kevin, wake the fuck up right now,” speared through an amazingly vivid dream he couldnt quite remember, something about a truck….

“Kev, the phone. If we go skiing…”

“Mmm hmm. Go to sleep, Marty.”


Marty wiggled and settled back into sleep in front of him, but behind him, Jase wasn’t being nearly as cooperative, puffing and panting like the bull on that Bugs Bunny matador episode, and sending off palpable waves of upset. He really needed to relax. Chill out, babe. Sleeping here.

Jason’s voice was taut as a bow string. “Chill out?” Oops, must’ve said that out loud. Jason’s next whisper was just this side of a shout. “What is Marty doing in our bed?”

“Sleeping.” Duh. Kevin had a dreamy smile curving his lips, thoroughly enjoying finally being the melty stuff in the middle of a Marty/Jason sandwich. Seriously hot thought, that. Marty should put it on the menu, it’d be an instant best-seller. If only Jase would just settle down and let him savor it….

“Okay, that’s it.”

Tidal waves of jerky movement behind him finally brought Kevin up to speed. Oh shit, I forgot to warn him. “Jase, babe. Shoot.” He scrambled to get the necessary information across. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Jase was already yanking on discarded jeans from last night, forgoing the whispers as he continued at normal volume. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Shhh!” Kevin stage-whispered. “You’ll wake him up.”

Jason froze with his pants just below his crotch, and his jaw literally dropped. It wouldve been a comical look on him if Kevin didn’t know how upset Jase was right now. Mental snapshot for later. He could see how damning it looked to have Marty in their bed, but it was a truly blameless situation.

“You did not just tell me to shhh…”


Pop over to my blog for more excerpts including one from my June Midsummer’s Nightmare offering, One Wild Wish.

~ Devon

Skunk, Bryan, Spoon (And A Badger) by Aundrea Singer

May 8, 2010

Hello, Everyone. You can call me Aundrea Singer. I’m thrilled to have my story in the new Necking anthology by the fantastic Dreamspinner Press. Here’s a short excerpt:

“We need to talk,” Veronica said again. She put her little hands on her little hips and glared up at him like a vicious elf.

“We do?” Bryan asked, trying to stealthily make sure his now-waterlogged towel wasn’t going to fall off. The barracks were unisex, so Bryan constantly felt like he’d just walked in on his little sister in the bathroom. It didn’t help that Veronica’s own towel was only around her waist.

“We do,” Veronica said. She crossed her elfin arms over her teeny breasts and upped her glare a notch. Bryan shuffled back. “About Skunk.”

Bryan stared at her, making very sure to keep his eyes from drifting lower than her neck. “Why?”

“Because he’s insane,” Veronica said flatly. “He’s insane and almost got me and Spoon killed today, and if you don’t do something about it I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

Bryan kept staring. “Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re billeted with the guy,” Veronica said. She stepped forward and poked him in the chest. Bryan shuffled backward a little further. “And the way I see it, that makes him your responsibility.” She moved in for another poke. “You have until our next combat practice to calm him the hell down, or else.” She turned on her heels and stalked away.

Skunk sauntered in naked and dripping from the showers while Bryan was gaping at Veronica’s doll-sized back. Skunk smirked at Veronica’s black glower then snapped her in the ass with his towel as she passed him. Veronica squealed and jumped, then spun and tried to kick Skunk in the balls. Skunk backpedaled, laughing.

“Or else, Bryan!” Veronica yelled over her shoulder at him as she stormed off.

Needless to say, Bryan’s quick thinking under threat to life and limb ends up with him between a rock and a hard place–or make that a Skunk and a Spoon….

This story was a huge departure for me, which made it as much of a challenge as it was a heck of a lot of fun to write. I’ve written a lot of sci-fi, and a lot of m/m, but never m/m/m and never something quite so…aggressively erotic, shall we say, as this. This is definitely one of those stories where it felt like the characters were on their own adventure and I was just gleefully along for the ride. And what an adventure it was.

I want to thank Julianne Bentley for putting this anthology together and doing such a beautiful job under a tight deadline. I also want to thank Dreamspinner Press for giving me this wonderful opportunity.

If you’re interested, you can find me over at my Live Journal.

My email is aundrea.singer@gmail.com

Homecoming by Emily Moreton (Necking anthology)

May 8, 2010

Hi, my name’s Emily, and I’m thrilled to have a story in the Necking anthology. Though I’m learning to curb my enthusiasm for it at work, where I want to tell everyone, but find it a bit awkward to answer ‘oh, what about?’ with ‘actually, it’s an established threesome erotic romance’ – especially when it’s my boss asking! Although, who knows, maybe she’d like it.

What’s Homecoming about?
Ben, one-third of a stable threesome, comes home to find his lover Raul in bed with another man…their third partner, Matt, finally home after months working away. What should be a happy reunion mostly is—but Matt’s had a rough time while away on his job, trying to get into the head of a serial killer. He needs to reconnect with his lovers, and what better way to do so than in bed between his partners? Sex, though, doesn’t fix everything….

Read a little bit..?
Outside, Matt’s not hard to find: he’s sitting on their porch swing, wrapped in a green blanket over what look like Raul’s pajamas, legs curled up, Jess huddled into the curve of his body, his face barely lit by the glowing end of the cigarette in his right hand. He doesn’t look away from contemplating the darkness of their garden until Ben sits next to him, nudging the swing into swaying gently.

“Thought you quit,” Ben says softly. It still sounds loud in the near total silence that speaks to a much later hour than it actually is.

“I did,” Matt says, bringing the cigarette to his lips, the end flaring bright. “This is just habit.”

“That’s different from not quitting?”

“Yeah. I’m not doing it for the nicotine, I’m doing it for the ritual. I won’t want it in a couple of days.”

It’s an unusual opening, made more so by Matt turning back to look at the garden, his and Raul’s space, in the summer at least, the two of them looking like something out of a domestic porn movie while Ben pretends to work and enjoys the show. Matt’s free hand absently pets Jess, who seems to have fallen asleep, Raul’s kitten all the way after he rescued her from the side of the road and brought her home, dancing around the idea that they could use something other than each other to take care of.

“You just needed it for this case?” Ben asks.

Matt makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Something like that. Good excuse to get out.”

“You never said much about it, while you were away,” Ben prompts, reaching over to pet Jess mostly as an excuse to lean into Matt and offer some comfort.

“I didn’t want to think about it when I was talking to you guys,” Matt says. “I still don’t. It was pretty rough.”

Ben thinks that he should respect Matt’s right not to have them know, but also that he’ll Google the case anyway, because there’s a difference between what Matt doesn’t want them to know and what Matt doesn’t want to tell them, and he’s pretty sure this is the latter. Even if it’s not, he can understand that Matt needs them to be careful of his edges right now, and the only way they can do that is if they know where these are.

“Is it over?” he asks.

Matt sighs, drops the cigarette and uncurls enough to grind it out with his heel, wincing slightly at the movement. “My part is, until the trial.”

They fall into silence broken only by the slight creak of the swing as it gradually loses momentum, until Matt says, “I’m seeing the departmental psychologist Monday. It’ll be better after that.”

“Okay.” Ben shifts until he can kiss Matt’s cheek, but stops Matt before he can turn it into a kiss on the mouth. “Not till you brush your teeth.”

“Charming,” Matt says, laughing a little.

“House rules,” Ben says firmly. “You hungry? I was thinking about an omelet.”

Matt tilts his head to one side then the other, considering. “I could eat,” he says finally, and he sounds relaxed, for once, soothed by domestic normality.

“Me too,” Ben says. “All that exercise on an empty stomach.”

Matt laughs. “You can talk, you only came in at the end.”

“And what an end,” Ben agrees.

My blog

An American In Seville by Lenore Black

May 8, 2010

Hi! I’m Lenore Black, and it’s great to be part of the virtual release party for the Necking anthology today. I’m thrilled to have my story included in this collection with so many great authors. As soon as I saw the call for submissions, I knew I wanted to write something for it. I’d never explored a threesome before in anything I’ve published, and it was really interesting figuring out the emotional dynamics.

My story was inspired by an anecdote a friend shared with me from her vacation to Spain, an interesting moment she witnessed between a beautiful Flamenco dancer, the guitarist who seemed to be his boyfriend, and a very attentive American tourist in the audience. And then the story took on a life of its own from there!

Excerpt: An American in Seville

Alejandro plunks down next to Tony, his arm sliding along the back of the cushions, connecting them, until the world feels as small as this one piece of furniture. “I see you take Javier more seriously than you do me.” He holds up a hand to forestall protest. “No, no, that is how it should be.” He smiles at Javier, who has gone to the kitchen to fetch drinks.

Javier shakes his head, his expression a mix of what am I going to do with you? and fondness. He brings back a bottle and glasses. Alejandro and Javier tip back their drinks in one, smooth shot. Tony sputters when the liquor hits the back of his throat. His eyes water, and he swears he can feel the burn all the way down to his knees.

“I hope it is not too strong for you?” Alejandro raises an eyebrow inquiringly. “It is what we drink here in Seville, those of us who are traditionalists, anyway.”

Javier laughs, the sound light and musical as wind chimes. “Yes, you are such a conventional man, mi amor.”

Alejandro widens his eyes at Tony in mock consternation. “You see how he makes fun of me? But that is all right. I forgive him. So, you must tell us more about yourself. What do you do when you are back in America? Have you traveled to Europe before? Tell us everything we should know about you.”

Tony fumbles for something to say, but fear of disappointing battles it out with a sort of bleak resignation. He shakes his head. “I haven’t really done much of anything.”

Alejandro smiles. “Ah, well. There is an easy cure for that, no?”

It’s more matter-of-fact than suggestive, but that doesn’t stop Tony’s mind from splashing up pictures, naked and acrobatic. He glances away sharply, heat creeping up his cheeks.

Alejandro gently changes the subject. “Javier has been to America. There was a show in New York, a Broadway show. They wanted the best Flamenco guitarist they could find, so naturally they chose Javier. Tell him how they clapped for you every night, mi vida.”

Javier shakes his head. “The show was not on Broadway, but I cannot convince Alejandro of this.”

Tony swipes his palms on his pants, trying not to be too obvious about it, trying to ignore the fluttering in his belly. He’s suddenly nervous, suddenly too aware that his clothes hang on his body like a lie and make him feel wrong in his skin. “I—” He can hear his own heart pounding, and he’s not sure why. “I’ve never been to New York. Well, except to change planes.”

Alejandro tilts his head, considering, and then he leans in, deliberately enough that Tony could turn away if he wanted, and he brushes their lips together. Quick and soft, but it leaves Tony feeling as if he’s underwater, a roar in his ears, his lungs burning. “There. Now that’s out of the way. No more wondering when it will happen.”

Tony darts an anxious glance at Javier, an apology poised on his lips, but Javier smiles softly, his eyes warm. Inviting.

God. Tony is being invited. His belly clenches with want. His cock starts to take an interest. Or more of an interest, anyway.

You can find me online at lenorejblack.livejournal.com. Enjoy the rest of the party!

G.S. Wiley, joining the fun…

May 8, 2010

Hi! I’m happy to have my story “Bacon Bits” included in the Necking anthology. I don’t usually write threesomes, so this was a fun departure for me.

My story involves a nameless narrator, a bicycle courier in New York City, his Wall Street boyfriend and his longtime best friend, visiting from California…

Before Patrick, I was always a “fuck-em-and-leave-em” kind of guy. I figured I was young, I liked sex, why would I tie myself in knots by bringing “emotions” into it like some sappy old queen? Then Patrick Keenan waltzed into my life—or, rather, I bicycled into his—and suddenly I was thinking about shared apartments and joint bank accounts and a nice, tasteful upstate wedding with rainbow flag centerpieces and matching cufflinks. It was a hell of a shock. There were times when it almost sent me running in the opposite direction, but every time I got close to it, Patrick looked at me with those puppy eyes and I was rooted to the spot.

As soon as he heard Alex was going to be in town, he told me to invite him over.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Patrick said, coming up behind me as I looked out the window. He smelled like Old Spice, something I’d always associated with grandfathers until I met Patrick. “I’m sure we’ll get along great.” I wished I had his optimism. Before I could worry myself any sicker over it, the buzzer buzzed. Patrick kissed me on the cheek and released me, and I got up to answer the door.

“Hey, baby!” Alex threw his arms around me. He was wearing a pair of painted-on jeans and a shiny red shirt, more suitable for an eighteen-year-old at a rave than a thirty-year-old having dinner with friends. He kissed me wetly on the lips and turned to look at Patrick. “And you must be Prince Charming.”

“Most people call me Patrick,” Patrick said. He put out a hand.

Alex shook it. “I’m not most people, honey.”