Thursday, February 26, 2015

Visiting Author: Mia Kerick with Inclination

Today I'm featuring an intriguing YA novel by Mia Kerick.I picked up Beggars and Choosers a few years back, and I've enjoyed most of her work since, so I am very happy to feature her newest eBook coming out with Cool Dudes Publishing very soon!

Sixteen-year-old Anthony Duck-Young Del Vecchio is a nice Catholic boy with a very big problem. It’s not the challenge of fitting in as the lone adopted South Korean in a close-knit family of Italian-Americans.  Nor is it being the one introverted son in a family jam-packed with gregarious daughters. Anthony’s problem is far more serious—he is the only gay kid in Our Way, his church’s youth group. As a high school junior, Anthony has finally come to accept his sexual orientation, but he struggles to determine if a gay man can live as a faithful Christian. And as he faces his dilemma, there are complications. After confiding his gayness to his intolerant adult youth group leader, he’s asked to find a new organization with which to worship. He’s beaten up in the church parking lot by a fanatical teen. His former best pal bullies him in the locker room. His Catholic friends even stage an intervention to lead him back to the “right path.” Meanwhile, Anthony develops romantic feelings for David Gandy, an emo, out and proud junior at his high school, who seems to have all the answers about how someone can be gay and Christian, too.

Will Anthony be able to balance his family, friends and new feelings for David with his changing beliefs about his faith so he can live a satisfying life and not risk his soul in the process?

My thoughts:
   Sexuality and religion go hand in hand, mostly due to the intolerance many 'faithful' have toward people who don't fit into a certain mold written thousands of years ago. Well, most of wouldn't fit in then, so adhering to those sorts of views and standards has never seemed logical to me. You can be a good person and not agree with a church. 

  Even stranger might be my interest in this book. At one point, as a kid, I voluntarily went to church on my own and had both good and bad experiences with faith and the faithful. At the age of 11, I decided I couldn't do it anymore, and left to find my own path. My path doesn't ascribe to a god or gods, but I still enjoy some aspects of faith and can enjoy reading about those who seek to find what matters most to them. 

  In Mia's story, Anthony is on just such a journey. Fitting in as a teen is never easy, but when you're different inside and out, it can seem like an impossible struggle. I haven't had the chance to read this yet (it's almost out!!) but I can't wait to do so. Mia's often insightful characterizations and plots come across different from my own experiences, and I love seeing the world through the eyes of the people she creates. I'm sure Inclination will be just as good as her past work I've enjoyed! 

Buy Links:


CoolDudes Publishing

All Romance Ebooks

Author Bio

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty-two years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young people and their relationships, and she believes that physical intimacy has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press, and CreateSpace for providing her with alternate places to stash her stories.

Mia is a social liberal and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights, especially marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
      Mia Kerick's Facebook                                Mia Kerick's Website              

Books published by Dreamspinner Press
Beggars and Choosers

Unfinished Business

A Package Deal

Out of Hiding

Random Acts

Here Without You

Books published by Harmony Ink Press

Not Broken, Just Bent

The Red Sheet

Us Three

Published by Mia Kerick
Come To My Window

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Wednesday Briefs: Lost Inside Part 19

Time to focus on the search to find out what's really going on with Schvesla's machine! This week's flash was inspired by the prompt: use cheek, floor, hammer. Enjoy!!

Fortitude Part 19

“One of these days I’m going to knock my brother to the floor and give him a drubbing he won’t forget,” I snapped, once we’d left the house.

“Just turn the other cheek, Will. You can’t change him.”

Teddy acted like he didn’t care when my brother tried to hammer his supposed inferiority into him. But Teddy’s dad was far better at it than my brother would ever be. That didn’t mean I would allow either of them to make him believe he was anything less than the amazing man I knew him to be.

“We’ll prove him wrong. We’ll prove they’re all wrong, about both of us.”

I smiled when Teddy nudged me, quite rudely, and then he grinned. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “So what are we going to do first?”

“There was nothing at the museum, but your questions about Schvesla’s journals reminded me of something I’d read in one.” I steered him toward the transport station.

“And this place is far enough we need a carriage?”

“We do.” I didn’t want to talk about it more outside, but once we were in the carriage we were able to speak without being overheard. I deposited a few coins in the wall below the conductor’s bench seat; I knew exactly how many it took. “We’re going to the scrap yard.”  

“Why the scrap yard?” Teddy was too far away, even though we were safe from prying eyes, so I held out my hand to him. It pleased me when he took it, scooting across the velvet padded seat to curl into my side. Being able to touch him as more than friends soothed the ache I’d felt inside for years. “What could possibly be there?”

“Schvesla’s journals said it was his favorite spot as a child. It actually gave him the idea for his machine. The perpetual spindles gave him the idea on how a single surge of Beta power could create untold power—safe, clean power unlike what we have to use now.” My eyes were burning from the carriage engine. The people who lived in the lower areas of the city suffered more from the low haze that never really went away.

“You think he hid something there?” Teddy ran a finger down the pinstripes on my trousers.

A trail of heat followed the path of his finger. I’d always reacted to Teddy; I had more power around him than when I was alone. “He hid something at his house that led us out of the city to another one—one that has been empty for hundreds of years. Yet people had been living there since before Schvesla’s time, according to Anna. He gave us clues in his journal, but we have to find them.”

“Do you think, if you were to get Schvesla’s machine running, that you could power it by yourself?” Teddy asked. “You said it only took a little. But a little how often? Once a day? A fortnight? A year? And how much is a little? Anna said there were Betas who’d escaped the city, but never anyone with much power.”

I pondered his question. “I don’t know.” It pained me to admit that. I’d never really thought about that part of it; I’d been too lost in my dreams of creating a life with Teddy.

A rap on the roof startled us both.

“We must be here.” The carriage had gone faster than I expected. As soon as I climbed out, I saw why. It was pissing down rain, a cold drizzle that was going to infiltrate my clothes in minutes.

“Ew.” Teddy turned up his collar and tugged down his hat, shielding his face.

“Indeed.” Well, at least the scrap yard was empty. The carriage driver turned around, and was soon off, the iron wheels clattering along the cobblestones in a horrible racket. “We may be in for a wet walk back, though.”

“I just hope there’s no lightning.” Teddy shivered. “Where do we start?”

Large metal shapes, sculpted into different forms from small benches to towering statues formed three times larger than life populated an out of the way corner of the city that had once been the most popular park in the city. “There’s the gazebo Schvesla commissioned in the northwest corner. We’ll start there, and maybe the rain will ease off if we have to look elsewhere.”

Since he commissioned its build, it would make sense for the clever man to have hidden another compartment in the gazebo. But could we find it?

Teddy began running his hands over the columns, rapping here and there with his knuckles. I stared at the cast statue of Schvesla sitting on one of the benches that his father had built after his death. “Where would I hide my clues, if I were you?” I mused aloud. I studied him. He had jointed elbows, wrists, and fingers, but they’d long since rusted in place. It even looked like a hole was crumbling the palm of one of his hands, left upturned on his knee.

What did I know about the man himself?

He was a beta. His best friend has been a gamma, too. That’s one of the reasons I’d always felt so connected to him. There was a plaque on the side of the gazebo that mentioned Murci. His life had been cut tragically short in an accident. The metal was inscribed by the simple eulogy Schvesla gave at Murci’s funeral.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I turned. “What are you doing?”

“Checking the floorboards.” Teddy finished walking one direction, took a step sideways, and began walking a straight line back. “Checking every inch, right?”

“Right.” Where would I trust something precious to me?

With Teddy.

I hurried over to Murci’s plaque. I ran my hands over the edges, looking for a gap. Nothing. I studied the metal border. Cogs! And they moved.

“I think I found it!”

What do you think they'll find? While you wait to learn that next week, go check out more flash by the other Briefers.

Briefers Website

Monday, February 23, 2015

Author Spotlight: Andrew Q. Gordon's exclusive excerpt from The Last Grand Master!

Please welcome a good friend and fellow author--and fan of fantasy--Andrew Q. Gordon with his wonderful (I've read it several times) novel newly re-released with Dreamspinner Press!

The Last Grand Master


PUBLISHER: DSP Publication

SERIES: Champion of the Gods

RELEASE DATE: 10th February 2015

LENGTH: 370 Pages

BLURB: In a war that shook the earth, the six gods of Nendor defeated their brother Neldin, god of evil. For three thousand years, Nendor and the Seven Kingdoms have known peace and prosperity and Neldin's evil was nearly forgotten.

But then Meglar, wizard king of Zargon, unleashes the dark magic of the underworld and creates an army of creatures to carry out his master's will. One by one, the sovereign realms fall as a new war between the gods threatens to engulf Nendor.

Leading the opposition to Meglar is Grand Master Farrell. Young and untried, Farrell carries a secret that could hold the key to defeating Meglar—or it could destroy the world.

Farrell is joined by Nerti, queen of the unicorns and Miceral, an immortal muchari warrior the Six have chosen as Farrell's mate. As Farrell and his new allies make plans to counter Neldin's evil, Meglar forces their hand when he invades a neighboring kingdom. Rushing to help their ally, Farrell and Miceral find themselves in the middle of the battle. Cut off from help, Farrell attempts an untried spell that will either turn the tide or cost he and Miceral their lives.

“Farrell?” He turned when he heard his name, scanning the crowd for the speaker.

Miceral pointed to their left just as Ostert and Lillian made their way through the throng.

“Congratulations on entering the ranks of the joined.” Ostert clapped Miceral on the back while Farrell gave Lillian a hug. Reaching for Ostert’s hand, Farrell stepped back.

“A dress tunic and no sword?” Farrell smirked. “You even wore your uniform when we came to dinner. I didn’t know you owned anything else.”

Lillian rolled her eyes and shook her head. “If you only knew the effort it took to get him to wear this today.”

Miceral reached out to hug her. “You only have yourself to blame for the monster you created.”

She nodded. “I know. You remind me every time I complain. If I hadn’t let him wear the uniform to our union ceremony, he wouldn’t think it’s acceptable everywhere.”

“At the risk of upsetting you”—Farrell pulled out a chair for Lillian—“I think he looks rather handsome in the uniform.”

“Thank you.” Ostert gave his wife an exaggerated nod. “But I still don’t find you attractive, Farrell.”

Farrell laughed, remembering their conversation when they first met. “That’s a good thing, since you’re about to become a father soon. I would hate to have your lovely wife vexed at me.”

“Hey.” Miceral poked him on the upper arm. “You should be concerned about your new life partner. Telling other men you think they’re handsome on our union day is not the best idea.”

Realizing the mistake he’d made, Farrell couldn’t think of a good comeback. He must have looked as confused as he felt because Miceral pulled him closer for a long kiss.

“Do that some more and I won’t even notice other men exist.” Farrell leaned in for another kiss before he let Miceral step back.

“Were we that bad?” Ostert asked his wife.

“We? No, we weren’t, but you were worse.” She smiled at him.


“Oh yes.” Farrell pointed at his friend. “For days after the ceremony, you wore a smile as wide as your face.”

“So how’s the baby?” Miceral asked.

Ostert’s face broke into a grin. “The healers say he’s doing great.”

Farrell turned to Lillian. “He? I thought you said you didn’t want to know the sex.”

She let out her breath and turned to her husband. “I didn’t, but I agreed to find out if he agreed to dress properly for today.”

Miceral laughed. “I think she played you.”

Turning from his wife to Miceral, Ostert looked deflated. “Really?”

Putting an arm around his friend, Miceral shook his head. “If she really didn’t want to know, do you think she would have bargained just to get you in a tunic? She obviously didn’t mind finding out but used it to get you do something she knew you’d resist.”

“Miceral!” Lillian’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her stare on him. “You’re not supposed to tell him my secrets.”

Gently taking her hand in his, Miceral brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “My apologies, Lillian. Ostert is like a younger brother to me. Someone has to teach him what to expect.”

In the process of taking a sip of wine, Farrell choked and sprayed the red liquid all over the table. When he recovered, he waved his hand to clean up the mess. “You’re teaching him the ways of women? Where did you come by this knowledge?”

Turning Ostert away from Farrell, Miceral glared at his partner for a moment. “Don’t mind him. Just remember to ask me next time.”

DSP Publication -

AUTHOR BIO: Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write.

He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his partner of nineteen years, their daughter and dog.  In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. 'insiders', Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and seeing how much coffee he can drink in a day.


Twitter:  @andrewqgordon



Thursday, February 19, 2015

eBook ARC Review: Bratty Angel by Chris T. Kat

Today I'm featuring Chris T. Kat's newest release, Bratty Angel. I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.  Okay, I don't have much to say about this book... except go buy it now! It's a great fantasy, with a mythological twist I really enjoyed. Good and evil aren't quite so clear cut in this tale. Nope, no siree. You find that out when you learn a hellhound and angel are hanging out. And the angel's harassing someone for some pleasure.

Reading this story caused me to snicker like crazy. Love-stick--totally priceless! There's a lot of great snark in the story, which I always love. A story that makes me laugh is always appreciated. But then I sank into Bratty Angel as it revealed a lot more depth. There's a whole mythos to discover in the short story which makes it feel longer... but still not long enough.

I think there's a lot more of this that should come next. Chris has created a storyline that must go on. So buy the eBook, read it, review it, and do what I'm doing now... tell her to write MORE!

Blurb: A bratty angel…
First Patrick is accosted by a hellhound with a yen for fries and ketchup. Then he encounters a beautiful, but bratty angel who doesn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘no’… or personal space. Not to mention he demands Patrick pleasure him, which Patrick refuses to do. So why does Patrick feel a connection to this unruly seraphim? And why can’t he forget him?
Two weeks later, the brat is back, making more demands. But Patrick makes it clear he doesn’t do demands. That should be the end of it, right? Or not… Maybe there’s more to this bratty angel than meets the eye. If Patrick has the patience to get past his bratty ways.

Buy Link: Extasy Books

Excerpt: Patrick rounded the corner fast, almost too fast. He barely kept his balance, groaning when his left knee twisted, reminding him that his ability to outrun anyone or anything had taken a turn for the worse. If that damn thing he'd only snatched a brief glimpse of got him, he'd be mauled and killed.
The huge, nightmarish thing panted as it chased after him, gusts of his surprisingly clean-smelling breath wafting to him. As Patrick raced through the deserted streets—because who the hell took a shortcut at this time of the night—he searched for a hiding spot. A fire ladder would work too, or whatever. Anything really, so he could put a safe distance between himself and the grotesque creature. He could have avoided all of this but, damn him, he'd indulged in his human body's desire for junk food. Next time he was going to order his food in—if he lived long enough.

Patrick's lungs burned, and his leg muscles screamed bloody murder at him. Fuck the universe for rendering him incapable of flying. He’d been trapped in this human body for twenty-three years already, and no one would ever think he'd once been strong and—best not to go there. Nothing good ever came of his memories.

Patrick stumbled, and a hot gust of air tickled his neck. He plunged face forward to the ground, all air rushing out in one short pained gasp. Reflexively he put his hands behind his head to protect his vulnerable neck.
The freaking thing growled and yanked at the bag containing Patrick's junk food. Patrick yelped when the bag tore open, spilling its contents all over.

Curled up on the ground, Patrick peeked over his shoulder when a chuckle drew his attention. Someone hunkered down next to him before gentle fingers pried the last string of the bag from his hand. Patrick gritted his teeth, wishing he was in possession of his power instead of lying there, almost whimpering in fear.
“Don't worry, he's not malicious. He just wants your fries,” a soft, melodious voice informed him. The fries-loving beast growled, sending goose bumps up Patrick's spine. The voice added, “Right. He wants your fries and your ketchup. You see, the ketchup is majorly important.”

The person who'd spoken to him withdrew, and the creature's paws clicked on the ground as it followed the voice. Whoever it was rustled the wraps of his food and talked soothingly to the yipping beast. Carefully and slowly, Patrick turned on his side to take a look. His heart thumped painfully hard against his ribcage, almost causing it to burst.

In the corner of the badly lit alley crouched something that seemed to be a mix between a large dog and a wolf, but the size of a pony. That wasn't even the strangest characteristic of the beast. No, the strangest characteristic was the dark brown, folded wings on the beast's back. That couldn't be!

Patrick's gaze traveled to the hands that dumped his fries on the torn bag, generously spreading ketchup all over them. The beast licked the hand in a grateful gesture before it dug into the food.

Patrick's breath caught when he observed the naked man who knelt next to the creature. The man's face was beautiful, no doubt about that. Patrick's gaze slid along a slender throat, finely toned shoulders, and a slight frame. A white, feathery wing covered the man's crotch.
An angel.

Chris T. Kat
Chris T. Kat lives in the middle of Europe, where she shares a house with her husband of many years and their two children. She stumbled upon the M/M genre by luck and was swiftly drawn into it. She divides her time between work, her family—which includes chasing after escaping horses and lugging around huge instruments such as a harp—and writing. She enjoys a variety of genres, such as mystery/suspense, paranormal, and romance. If there's any spare time, she happily reads for hours, listens to audiobooks or does cross stitch.



Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Wednesday Briefs: Fortitude Part 18

Whew, another week! It's been beautiful here--so obviously I've been hiding indoors away from the wicked sun. Great for my writing. I hope you'll enjoy this week's update to Fortitude inspired by the prompt: "Would you like a little coffee with that sugar?"

Fortitude Part 18

“Mother, Father.” We stopped beside the places Bettice must have set for us. I gripped the back of my chair. “Good morning.”

My father looked away from the sheaf of newsprint he was reading. My mother was directing Bettice as she laid out the platters. “About time you showed your face,” my father said. “People might start to think you have some quarrel with Michael. I will not have you embarrassing us.”

Busy whispering to his wife and making a pretense at ignoring our presence, I saw my brother smirk at the reprimand. My parents were not nobles, but they enjoyed a certain prestige amongst their friends for having a Beta son, as well as the fact that Michael’s wife was the second cousin of a minor duke’s wife. They fancied themselves the cream of the crop, and relished the attention.

But of course, that came with obligation to act properly. I held in my grimace. “That was not my intention, of course. I apologize.” The words were bitter gall in my mouth, but we couldn’t afford additional scrutiny. My father watching my every move would just not do. “The festivities are going well, I’ve heard.”

I had heard some talk of a lot of liquor and exotic foods being served at the parties. I wasn’t sure where the funds were coming from for such extravagance, but I could see the excesses weren’t really agreeing with my brother. He looked a tad sallow around the edges.

Teddy sat down when I nudged him. We placed our napkins in our laps.

“Father is sparing no expense. The fete is for more than just my anniversary; Cecilia is carrying their first grandchild, which you’d know if you’d been here.”

“Congratulations.” My brother was going on about a son to carry on the family name, but I ignored him. I was hungry, and the meal was almost ready. Mother oversaw Bettice as she began at the head of the table with my father, carefully serving each dish over the left shoulder as we each indicated what we’d care for.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, William-Henry. You wish to become a part of the peerage, yet you have no genteel manners. One does not thank a servant for performing their duties at the table.” How could I have missed how desperate my parents were for the very thing they mocked me for? I’d been blind about so much.

“Sorry, Mother.” Did I really want to become a noble here in the city? More and more, I was unsure of what I really wanted—aside from Teddy, who ate silently at my side. My brother glanced at him, and I bristled, waiting for him to say something unkind. His comments about being able to provide the family with new blood to carry on came back to me with new meaning.

I narrowed my eyes at him. What did he think he knew?

Michael said nothing, and I gradually relaxed as much as was possible during a four-course breakfast. “You should be paying close attention to the fete, William-Henry. You reach majority in two months, and we must celebrate it in true style,” my mother said. “I will desire some input from you.”

There’d been no talk of fete for my coming of age. Where were my parents obtaining the funds for such things?

“Breakfast was delicious, Mother,” I said, after the coffee was served. I passed the sugar to Teddy. He took several heaping spoons to sweeten the bitter brew.

“Would you like a little coffee with that sugar?” Michael asked snidely.

I grit my teeth as Teddy blushed and dropped the spoon back into the bowl. It took all my control to carefully pick up the final spoonful he usually added and pour it into his cup without scattering the sweetener. “I take mine plain, so there is plenty for Teddy to have his coffee the way he wishes. I daresay you would be better off watching how much mulled wine your wife is partaking of this morning, rather than worrying about what is in Teddy’s cup.”

A tipsy spouse often led to fractious babes, and Michael’s wife did like hers morning, noon, and night. It was one of the reasons I believe she married my brother after he finished his apprenticeship at one of the leading wineries in the region. I couldn’t see what else they had in common. I barely ever heard her speak, even to him.

I sipped my coffee, glaring at my brother as an uncomfortable silence fell over the table. My father was back to his papers, and my mother was pretending like nothing was happening, as usual.

“Better watch your friend so he doesn’t slip off into a fugue state and get hit with a ball. We’ll be playing croquet on the lawn this afternoon.”

Teddy’s cup shook as he set it down in the saucer with a soft clink before he dropped his hand into his lap. Under the cover of the tablecloth, I covered it with my own, squeezing his fingers gently.

“I’m afraid we must miss the fun activity,” I said. I wiped my mouth and folded my napkin and placed it precisely on the table next to my half-empty cup. At least Teddy finished his. “We have previous appointments we cannot, in good conscience, reschedule for games. I’d hate to do anything that would give anyone a bad impression of the family name.”

Michael snorted indelicately. “Sure you do.”

“Excuse me.” We stood.  

“Thank you for the lovely meal,” Teddy said softly to my mother. He bowed in her direction. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder as we walked out, needing contact to ground me after the bout with my family. The vitriol had more effect on me than usual. This was not the life I wanted for us, so I was going to change it.

So does seeing Will's family make his personality a little more clear? We are partially a product of our environment, I believe. But can he overcome their influence? We'll see more next week! Now enjoy more flash fiction from the other Briefers!

Briefers Website

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Author Interview: Jon Keys with Razor!!

Please welcome Jon Keys to my blog. He's been kind enough to do an interview and also shared some information on his new release, Razor.

Who do you like best, Jerry or Tom?

Oh, Jerry without a doubt.

What are you wearing (and no fibbing!)?

Snow clothes! Yesterday it snowed all day and dumped on us. So…I’m wearing flannel lined pants (which are becoming favorites), a black and red flannel shirt, a baseball cap (to cover the hat hair from the stocking cap) and snow boots. Pretty stylish huh?

Are you a person who makes their bed in the morning, or do you not see much point?

Don’t see the point. Although, I do love crisp clean sheets. Maybe I need to reexamine the stance.

Name one entity you feel has supported you in your writing endeavors outside of family members.

I guess it’s not exactly the question, but it was the early fans who kept me writing. I started because I wanted to tell a different story of rural characters. I was apprehensive about the response, but the readers were supportive and loved the work. Nothing like appreciative readers to get the creative juices flowing. Now…now I’ve gotten some of the harsh criticism. I’m glad I went through the supportive ones first.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Beginnings! Oh my, I rewrite beginnings so many times. I’ve thrown out whole scenes, started in new places, just about everything. I eventually get them, and some are easier than others. But yeah, opening scenes and I have a few words before we decide to work together.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

You know, I think I’ve always considered myself a writer. I have a favorite podcast and they are always saying “a writer writes” and I think that’s been my philosophy too. I wasn’t a published writer, but I was a writer.               

How did you come up with the title?

Well I like it when the title of the work is successful on several levels. Razor works at a literal level, because a razor plays heavily in the story. But James and Micah are also walking the edge of the razor in their lives. It’s also a sense of masculinity lost. So, several different levels.

What sort of coffee would your characters order? Simple coffee, complicated soy-non-fat-extra-espresso-half-caff-nightmare?

That’s pretty funny, because I know exactly which would have what. James would be strong black coffee, the kind you could clean automotive parts in. Micah would definitely be the soy-non-fat-half shot of espresso, and be picky that each part was right.

What was your favorite part of the story?

Oh, wow. That’s tough. I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. There are a couple of scenes that choke me up, even after as many times as I’ve read it. There is a scene with elevator sex that makes me laugh every time. I like the first meeting outside of the bar too. I love the image of the doorman.

What are your future projects?

Well, my first fantasy novel, Obsidian Sun, has been submitted and I’m doing the impatient author dance. It’s a rescue story in a world where the magic is based on weaving and a symbiotic relationship between the weavers and spinners.

I have another fairytale retelling that I’m working valiantly to finish editing. This one is a retelling of Cinderella, but of course Cinderella is male…and a cowboy. I think it’s a fun read. I have another novel that I’m editing too. It’s being more difficult though. It’s a country mouse/city mouse plot, with a few serious twists.

The others are in that mystical folder named “new ideas”. Obsidian Moon, the sequel to Obsidian Sun, is in the planning but about all I know about it is there will be a triad that are assassins. But who knows what will have the biggest draw on my attention when I get ready to write something new.

Now on to some story details to whet your appetite for more!

When the world crashes down around your ears, sometimes all you can do is punt and hope for the best. That’s exactly what James and Micah decide to do when one of them is diagnosed with cancer, and the other discovers a serious heart defect. When the doctor tells them to start working on their bucket lists, the two take a trip in an effort to create some good memories, and forget the ugly truths, while they focus on their time in each other’s arms.

Their vacation turns into much more than they anticipated when they find themselves drawn to a club like sailors to a siren. Several sexy waiters, some unforgettable lap dances, and one whip-wielding stud later, they stumble upon the answer to their prayers. Their sex is wild again, and the pair find themselves living for tomorrow. But with every answer comes questions, and Micah’s search for more may destroy them both.

Will they be able to recover from his thirst for the truth? Or will the men always live walking on the edge of a Razor?
Buy Links:  Decadent Publishing  Amazon   iTunes   Kobo
Micah made the landing and stood watching James ascend. A few seconds later, he reached the top and looked around. They found themselves outside a door almost as dark as the night, set into a wall of Cimmerian brick that disappeared into the gloom on either side. The doorman standing beside it was equally striking. He stood taller than James’s six feet, and wore only a black leather kilt and heavy boots that seemed to consume the lower part of his muscular legs. No one would dare challenge the man. His torso rippled in ways James had never seen before. His face was rugged, covered with a few days’ scruff trimmed precisely along his jawline. Before he could think of what they should do, the doorman spoke.
“Welcome to Razor. What’s your pleasure tonight?”
James stood speechless as the deep bass of the man’s voice resonated through the night. “The music. The music is wonderful. We caught it from a few blocks off and wanted to hear more.”
A smile emerged on the man’s face and changed him from executioner to guardian. “Of course, the music. You’ve found the right place. Just in time, too. Tonight is drawing to a close.”
He grasped the bronze door pull that was easily as long and thick as James’s forearm and opened the massive door with little apparent effort. He motioned them into the portal with a wave. “Go. Enjoy yourself.”
The pair moved toward the opening and peered inside. The room was dim, except for an empty stage bathed in warm light. James noticed the musical trio creating the instrumentals that had lured them through the foggy night. They glanced back to the grinning bouncer who encouraged them forward with a nod.
They stepped into the room and paused to take it in. From the elaborately carved dark mahogany bar lined with every imaginable type of liqueur, to the lovingly worn floor that had seen thousands of pairs of feet during its existence, it was all club. The couple moved inside as the door closed behind them with scarcely a whisper.
As they studied the room, two things struck James. First, they were the only customers. Second, everyone else in the room wore very little and were male. Their smiling waiter stepped to their table. James swallowed hard as he looked at the man standing before him. He dressed in the same boots as the bouncer, which were buckled to just below his knees. The remainder of the waiter’s clothing consisted of a black leather jockstrap filled to capacity.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Wednesday Briefs: Fortitude Part 17

It's Wednesday again, woo hoo! This week we have a VERY titillating chapter for you. About time, right? Read on to see what I came up with, inspired by the prompt: Only you could pull it off.

Fortitude Part 17

Will inched forward, the sheets rustling the only sound in the room. It had to be perfect. This was his first chance to touch Teddy the way he’d always wanted to. He swallowed hard, darting his tongue out to wet his dry lips.

This close, he could see Teddy close his eyes just before their lips touched, but Will couldn’t look away. He wanted to see everything.  He wanted to feel everything.

It was bliss.

Teddy’s lips were firm but soft. Will brushed his lips across Teddy’s, sucking gently on his bottom lip. They parted on a long exhale, and Will did what he’d been dreaming of for years. He slipped his tongue in Teddy’s mouth, tasting him for the first time.

He moaned.

Their tongues tangled together, the kiss consuming Will on for long minutes. But he needed more. Teddy was clutching his night shirt and one of his hands. Will broke the kiss, pulling back.

“What? Did I do it wrong?” Teddy asked breathlessly. His breath puffed over Will’s lips, tantalizing him and making him want to start kissing Teddy all over again.

“No, god, not at all.” Will panted, uncertain about asking for more, but he was seizing the moment. There was no way to know if it would ever come again. “I just… I wanted to ask….”

Teddy untangled his hand from Will’s shirt. He reached up and cupped Will’s cheek. “Whatever it is, yes.”

Will whimpered, pushing his hips forward. Teddy’s eyes grew huge and his breath stuttered as their groins met, rigid erections brushing together. “Will!” Teddy shuddered and moved back, just until they weren’t touching anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He desperately needed to move, to push against Teddy, to find the friction he needed to stop the aching need between his legs, but maybe it was too much. Will trembled, fighting the urge to thrust forward.

He didn’t stand a chance when Teddy slammed against him from chest to knees, their bodies separated by just two thin night shirts. Every speck of his being was consumed with touching and feeling Teddy. He splayed one hand across Teddy’s low back, pulling him in as he thrust back.

“Will!” Teddy was like a man possessed. He guided Will’s lips back to his. They panted and groaned, teeth clicking together as they sought forbidden pleasures. Will’s heart was racing, his head spinning, and he wished it never had to end. He couldn’t hold out for long, though; his entire body was primed and throbbing like a live wire.

With a hoarse grunt, Will lost all control. His seed poured from him in pulsing waves. Teddy strangled back a cry against Will’s shoulder, and the musky scent of their spend filled the room. They shuddered in each other’s arms. Will began to recover his senses first—the orgasmic white noise fading until he could focus once more.

“That was amazing,” he croaked. His throat burned and sweat stung his eyes. Their night clothes were a sticky mess, and yet, Teddy rested against him, not jumping up to immediately wash up in the basin. Once, Will had pretended to be asleep at Teddy’s house, and he’d felt the bed move with the furtive touches his best friend made so carefully, and smelled the scent of Teddy’s seed for the first time. The second his arm stopped moving, Teddy had gotten up and poured water from the pitcher into the basin, scrubbing furiously.

It had been too dark, and he’d had to keep his eyes mostly closed, so Will didn’t get to see Teddy’s private parts. He still hadn’t. But Will had made him feel so good, Teddy wasn’t even freaking out over soiling themselves just after they’d gotten clean.

They hadn’t even touched each other. What would it be like when they did more, things like in the forbidden book Will had found?

He couldn’t wait.


The next morning, Teddy was shyly avoiding his eyes when Will rolled over to greet him. “Hey,” Will said. He rubbed his thumb over Teddy’s bottom lip. They were just slightly swollen, the only outward sign he could see of their late night passions.

“Good morning.”

“Hmm, it will be, if you’ll kiss me again.”

Teddy sucked in a breath. “It’s morning.” Like that had anything to do with kissing.

“No one will see,” Will whispered. “My door is locked. Just one kiss.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

For all his aggression in the night, Teddy’s kiss was a simple press of their lips together. Warm and loving, they met and parted several times. It stole Will’s breath until he was forced to stop in order to breathe so he wouldn’t swoon. He pressed his forehead against Teddy’s.

“I promise, when this is over, we’ll be together,” he said. Teddy didn’t argue with him, but his silent doubt wrinkled his forehead. Will could believe enough for both of them. “I love you.”

Teddy smiled. “I love you, too. I don’t know if it’s really possible, but if it is, only you could pull it off.”

“Speaking of, we have a lot to do. We need to clean up and dress.” Teddy’s stomach growled. Will grimaced. “But first, breakfast with my mother and father. Maybe my brother will be there hungover, irking my parents, and keep the attention off us.” It was unlikely, but a man had to have some dreams, and the rest of Will’s were already coming true. He refused to be anything less than optimistic.

“Cleaning up, oh yes.” Teddy made a face, plucking at his night shirt. “Can you warm the water?”

Will got out of bed. His shirt was crusty and stuck to him in some places. It was gross, but worth it. “Give me a few moments.”

Sooooo, a nice little interlude. Was it worth the wait? ;) Okay, more flash fiction for you to enjoy--just go check out the other Briefers!

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