book tour

Book Tour & Review: Haven’s Creed by Parker Williams

Books, Reviews

Author Name: Parker Williams

Book Name: Haven’s Creed

Release Date: December 14, 2015

Pages or Words: 95,000 words

Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, Thriller, some romantic elements, some dark and violent imagery

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28017836-haven-s-creed

Publisher: Parker Williams

An act of violence destroys his family and ends the life he knows. To escape his haunted past, he joins the military, where, as a sniper, he is trained to kill with precision and detachment. When a covert organization offers him a new purpose, he becomes Haven, an operative devoted to protecting the innocent when he can and avenging them when he cannot.

After ten years of battling the evil in the world, the life no longer holds the attraction or meaning it once had, and he’s ready to walk away. Then he meets Samuel, a young man forced from the age of twelve to work as a sex slave. If ever a man had a need for Haven, it is this one.

Yet nothing about this growing relationship is one-sided. Sammy gives Haven a stability he’s never known, and Haven becomes the rock upon which Sammy knows he can depend.

When Sammy reveals something about the enemy Haven has been hunting for months, Sammy fears it will destroy what they’ve built and he’ll lose his home in Haven’s heart.

I have a lot to say about this book so bear with me. It’s not my usual genre—I tend to like literary slice-of-life stories, particularly focusing on family. So it was definitely a stretch, but I’m so glad I took the chance.

Fans of action/thriller/military will love this. It’s like a written form of the best of those types of movie, complete with lots of calculated violence and a form of chase scene at the end. The love story between Haven and Sammy is, in one sense, secondary to the take-out-the-big-bad plotline (though it’s also of significance and shouldn’t be discounted). At the same time, anyone who likes (as I do) a good hurt/comfort story should also be pleased—provided they’re not looking for something gentle and tender. Readers should definitely heed all warnings: there are graphically violent scenes throughout, and while there are no direct scenes of abuse of young children, the after-effects are mentioned unflinchingly.

There are no fluffy kittens to be found here. Haven and Sammy are both deeply damaged and conflicted individuals who need each other for different reasons. Haven is a phenomenal antihero. He is not really a nice person, and he has no regrets about taking out those he deems moral failures. There’s a thin line, alluded to multiple times, between revenge and justice, and Haven doesn’t hesitate to cross it. Sammy fills the typical role of “damsel in distress,” but interestingly, he doesn’t ever truly embody that trope. He’s far too strong for that, and we get to see his motivations. Typically, I would fall immediately for Sammy (I have a soft spot for the Wounded Little Boy stock character). But it was Haven who stole my heart and held it captive. I was utterly fascinated by both his real world and the one he creates for himself in order to be able to carry out his missions. He reduces the villains to flat people devoid of humanity, and he dragged me down with him until I was just as ready to take out the despicable people he’s after.

Haven and Sammy aren’t the only complex characters. Rook, Haven’s mysterious handler, comes to life more fully through his interactions with Sammy, which I thought was an interesting perspective. I developed a few theories about Rook, and there’s a part of me that hopes this isn’t the only book so we can find out more. Meanwhile, Kelly, who looks after Haven and takes care of his basic needs, is unwrapped slowly over the course of the book. I loved both of them for different reasons.

I’ll admit to being appropriately horrified by Valerie, the Head Evildoer. She is seriously the devil incarnate, and I have no remorse for wanting to see her dead for reasons I won’t spoil here. I did have to chuckle at her line when she says “guys are easy to twist around when sex is involved.” She’s pretty much the same way and seems really lacking in self-awareness on that point; pot, meet kettle. This tickles me no end and actually makes her a far better character. Too often, the femme fatale character is herself virtually sexless, only using the physical to manipulate the men in her path because they just can’t keep it zipped around her. Not so with Valerie—she obviously enjoys herself, a fact which gives her more depth. I would love to have seen Haven play with that (and the “fake bisexual” being a good guy instead of a villain would get my vote). Naturally, she falls into the usual round of “bad guy must explain life, the universe, and everything instead of just taking out the hero.” But her lengthy rant is worth the words spent on it and is highly entertaining.

I don’t wish to speak to the realism or lack thereof in the story. I don’t think it’s important; at least, it wasn’t for me. Because I’m reading with a literary eye, I chose to focus on the underlying themes and emotions. My guess is that it’s probably frowned on to rescue someone who’s been kept as a sex slave for a dozen years and then take him as a lover, but I think there’s something in the idea of rescuing and nurturing the wounded parts of ourselves and others while allowing ourselves to be changed by them. There’s beauty in that, and it makes the contrasting ugliness of the journey with Sammy and Haven worthwhile.

Where it loses just a little for me is in two ways. First, it definitely goes in the category of There Are No Decent Women. (Okay, fine, there’s one—the doctor is a woman, but she’s not in it much.) Now, I get it—it’s a gay action story, so women are not necessary. But I have a slight preference for no women at all vs. all of them being awful, dead, or both. Second, I didn’t really feel like I needed the epilogue (though I recognize lots of people will love it). I think the requisite Definitive Happily Ever After in gay stories is a holdover from the days where everyone either dies or goes back in the closet. So I’m totally okay with spelling it out because it’s obviously better than the alternative. I just thought the story was complete without it; it felt done after the last chapter, and I could have guessed at the rest. It’s personal preference, nothing more.

Other than that, this is a terrific read that held me hostage from the first page to the last. I’m giving this 8.5/10 fountain pens for tight writing that put me right in the moment, excellent characters, and well done twisting of common tropes.

Amazon eBook: http://www.amazon.com/Havens-Creed-Parker-Williams-ebook/dp/B0190XCAX2/ref=sr_1_1

AllRomance eBook: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-haven039screed-1940506-153.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/598547

Paperback: https://www.createspace.com/5921323

When I was fifteen, I killed my first man. Every time Arnie, the guy my mother was shacking up with at the time, drank, he got it into his head she was cheating on him. He’d start slapping her, and that turned into full-fledged beating within a few months. When he was done, he’d start on my sister.

There were nights she’d crawl into bed with me, sobbing. For the longest of times, she wouldn’t tell me what happened, but when I found blood on her pajamas, I knew. I’d tried to stand up to him, but he beat me badly enough that I couldn’t go to school for two weeks until the bruises faded. But I got off lucky. The things he did to Chrissy gave me nightmares. I’d hear her cry out and knew there was nothing I could do but hide in my bed, my pillow covering my head. He was bigger, meaner, and stronger than me, and he reminded me of that fact constantly.

The old lady never said boo about it. She always forgave him and tried to justify what he did by telling me how much stress he was under. How he was a good man and didn’t mean it. It was just the drinking, she swore. It was more like he was a bastard and she was his meal ticket.

I came home one night and found him whaling on her, my sister’s body crumpled in a heap, her head smashed in. The son of a bitch had a gun in his hand, slick with blood, and he threatened to kill them both, screaming he wouldn’t let her leave. She slapped him. It wasn’t hard, but it shocked him enough that he dropped the gun. I picked it up. He sneered at me and called me a weak-willed fag.

I looked at the gun I held in my hand. The instrument of my revenge. The means to saving my sister.

“Give me the gun, you fuck. It’s not a dick, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

The bullet I put in his forehead showed him how wrong he was. He lay on the floor, blood bubbling from the wound, and his eyes locked on mine as he took his last breath. I wanted that fucker to know it was the weak-willed fag who had done this to him.

Parker Williams believes that true love exists, but it always comes with a price. No happily ever after can ever be had without work, sweat, and tears that come with melding lives together.

Living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Parker held his job for nearly 28 years before he decided to retire and try new things. He enjoys his new life as a stay-at-home author and also working on Pride-Promotions, an LGBT author promotion service.

Connect with Parker on: Twitter: @ParkerWAuthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/parker.williams.7564

Or you can visit his website: www.ParkerWilliamsAuthor.com

Today I’m very grateful to be visiting A.M. Leibowitz’s blog. My name is Parker Williams, author of Haven’s Creed.

Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.

I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin with my husband, our four dogs, and three cats. For nearly twenty-eight years I was a server at a hotel in Milwaukee where I got to meet a lot of famous people.

How do you develop your plots and characters?

I would love to say I have all these grand ways to make my characters dance, but to tell the truth, the characters tell me what they expect from me. I try to give direction and they just shake their heads and laugh at me.

Who doesn’t love a good hero? Tell us about your protagonist. Was there a real life inspiration behind them?

Haven isn’t really a ‘hero’, more like an anti-hero. He does some really, really bad things, but with the best of intentions. He’s not a sweet loving person like in the other books I’ve done, he’s violent and takes the phrase eye for an eye to a new level.

What real-life inspirations do you use when world building?

The nice thing is that you can see a story anywhere you look. A couple standing on the street corner, hand in hand, who leans over and gives each other a peck. Are they going their own separate ways? Did they spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms? What’s their story and will it have a happily ever after?

Did you learn anything from this book and what was it?

I’m a sick and twisted individual. J This is further proof that writing what you know isn’t always a necessary thing. I can swear to you, I’ve never actually killed a person…at least not that can be proven.

It’s your last meal on earth. What do you choose?

A vegan pot pie. My husband makes one and it’s so damn good. The crispy crust, the gravy and tender bits of seitan inside. :sigh: Now I want one.

14-Dec

Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Multitasking Mommas, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, The Fuzzy, Fluffy World of Chris T. Kat, Cate Ashwood, Wake Up Your Wild Side

15-Dec

Love Bytes, MM Good Book Reviews, Book Lovers 4Ever, A.M. Leibowitz, 3 Chicks After Dark

16-Dec

Divine Magazine, Cathy Brockman Romances, Unquietly Me, Louise Lyons, KathyMac Reviews, Havan Fellows

17-Dec

Bayou Book Junkie, Inked Rainbow Reads, Happily Ever Chapter, Nephy Hart, Iyana Jenna, Lee Brazil

18-Dec

The Blogger Girls, Carly’s Book Reviews, Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, Mikky’s World of Books, Tara Lain, Emotion in Motion

19-Dec

Sinfully Addicted to All Male Romance, Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves, BFD Book Blog, Jessie G. Books

21-Dec

Joyfully Jay, Molly Lolly, Bonkers About Books, Open Skye Book Reviews

Rafflecopter Prize: $30 gift card from All Romance eBooks

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Book Tour: Holiday Want Ads anthology

Books

Author Names: Avery Duran, Shira Glassman, Emjay Haze, Kassandra Lea, Dale Cameron Lowry, G.O. Noce, Marie Piper, Rob Rosen, Angora Shade, Robin Watergrove. Edited by Deelylah Mullin

Book Name: Holiday Want Ads

Release Date: December 9, 2015

Pages or Words: 59,000 words

Categories: (Please keep in mind that as an anthology, not all stories will necessarily contain all categories.) BDSM, Bisexual, Contemporary, Erotica, Fantasy, Fiction, Gay Fiction, Humor, Lesbian Romance, M/M Romance, Ménage/Poly, New Adult, Romance, Trans

Publisher: Torquere Press

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Whether reading Facebook ads, Craigslist, or the classified section of the local newspaper, there’s always something interesting available in the want ads… if you’re looking. In our Holiday Want Ads Anthology, Torquere Press offers ten beautiful stories of found love from ten talented authors.

In Compatible Gardens, Angora Shade weaves a tale about strangers on a city bus. Emjay Haze reveals a little Elfin Magic in her workplace romance. Little White Lights, Marie Piper’s feature, highlights illumination as a gift. In Wrapped Up, Kassandra Lea brings readers a holiday storm full of anxiety for both the storm and a question’s response. Avery Duran brings us a winter ball, complete with a Prince Charming in Matzo Ball. Eitan’s Chord, Shira Glassman’s offering, brings readers a visit from three Chanukah fairies creating magic from their passion. Thank You, Craig highlights fireworks and the versatility of a fire escape. G.O. Noce tells about a Boyfriend for Rent, and both parties in the agreement get a lot more than they bargained for. Looking for a Soft Center, by Robin Watergrove, shows how articulating one’s wants is much harder than simply writing an ad. And Dale Cameron Lowry gives readers an ex-Mormon hiring a bartender who helps with a party and builds a friendship—possibly more—with his employer in Mi Alma.

Buy the book: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=200&products_id=4559

From Compatible Gardens by Angora Shade

Sweet mercy, I hate the bus. The university is a busy place, and no matter what hour of the day I find myself in need of transportation, the bus is packed. And it’s not just students. Teachers, local residents, and even businessmen from the surrounding area are regulars, not to mention the crazies who ride all day long and do nothing but stare. The bus smells the way intimate spaces usually do too—musty, stale air, mixed with a collage of too many personal scents—and the seats are stained, worn, and uncomfortable. I tell myself it’s time to invest in a bicycle as I watch the 60 West pull up to the curb. I grasp my sweater tightly around my chest, and force myself to believe Fate has opened a door for me today, and I have to walk through it.

The bus door closes behind me, and something squeaks loudly as the driver peels off the curb before I’ve sat down. My balance shifts, and I lurch toward a startled elderly man. He frowns at me despite my mumbled apology, and I stumble my way down the aisle over bags and shoes headed for the first available seat. I’m lucky there’s one up front where I’ve walked in. The seats here face inward like a bench rather than in pairs toward the back, and the extra space makes the ride more bearable. I pray today will be less crowded. I pray Fate will continue to behave.

Fate is why I’m here. This may be my last chance for finding a new apartment with a decent roommate, and the bus is the fastest way to my goal. The fall semester is coming to a close and the holidays are approaching, which has made my task much harder. Housing should be established by now, but I’m not happy. Remaining in loud dorms with inconsiderate, obnoxious jerks for a day longer than I have to would be torture. There’s no privacy, no calm, and hearing the sex noises my current roommate and her boyfriend make in our shared room makes me nuts, not to mention trying to share a bathroom with eight other girls. The food is terrible, nothing’s ever clean, and illness spreads like wildfire. It’s a joke. I’m a junior now anyway. I figure I’m past due to get out. I need space where I can breathe with a room of my own away from the garden of weeds.

Soon. Now. Pronto.

Parker Williams, The Hat Party, Bayou Book Junkie, BFD Book Blog, Dawn’s Reading Nook, A.M. Leibowitz, Charley Descoteaux, Iyana Jenna, Happily Ever Chapter, Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, Kimi-Chan, Alpha Book Club, Kirsty Loves Books, Bonkers About Books, MM Good Book Reviews, Divine Magazine, Inked Rainbow Reads, My Fiction Nook, Three Books Over The Rainbow, Molly Lolly

Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of ‘Holiday Want Ads’ anthology

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Book Tour: Maddy Christmas Anthology

Books

Author Names: Harper Jewel, S.A. Garcia, Meg Bawden, Chris McHart

Book Name: Maddy Christmas

Release Date: December 14, 2015

Pages or Words: 43,000 words

Categories: BDSM, Contemporary, Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27808353-maddy-christmas

Publisher: Rawmance Publishing

Cover Artist: Meg Bawden

Santa’s Naughty Elf by Harper Jewel:

Playing Santa in the local department store should be an easy way to make a few extra bucks, shouldn’t it? That’s what Brock Daniels, a victim or corporate downsizing, thought when he took the job at Larson’s. Once he finds out a handsome ginger—his one weakness—will be playing Santa’s elf, easy becomes complicated, even if it’s an enjoyable snag.

When Paul Martens discovers who’ll be playing Santa to his elf, déjà vu of an unforgettable night that took place almost two years ago comes crashing down on him.

The attraction between Brock and Paul grows to fevered levels while a runaway teen pulls at both men’s heartstrings. Will they be able to put aside their ardent attraction and channel some holiday magic in order to grant everyone’s Christmas wish, or will their stockings be filled with nothing but coal?

Paint Your Balls by Chris McHart:

The lives of the heavenly beings that have a one-day-a-year job can become a bit dull. But when Santa’s reindeer fall ill on Christmas Eve, his life becomes anything but, so he reluctantly turns to the Easter Bunny for help.

Bunny harbors a long-time, secret crush on Santa and decides to take advantage of the request for help by offering an exchange. He wants Santa in his bed. Little does he know, Santa has discreetly lusted after him, but the man in red decides to teach the attractive Bunny a lesson he won’t soon forget.

Who will make the next move, and how will both men play the game? Will they be naughty or nice? In the end, could both men finally get what they desire?

Catching Santa Claus in the Act by Meg Bawden:

It’s Christmas Eve and Rowan Wayne has the task of babysitting his nieces. While he’d rather be out partying and having a one night stand with a sexy footballer, his nieces have always come first.

The last thing he expects is a thief entering his brother’s house in the middle of the night. Except the thief claims that he isn’t robbing the house, rather delivering the presents because he’s Santa Claus. Rowan thinks the reasoning is absurd, until he discovers this Santa Claus is the sexy guy from college, Christian Kringle.

Finding it hard to fight his attraction to the handsome Santa, Rowan isn’t sure what to believe. What will he do when he finds out Christian is equally attracted to him?

The Duke of Dickdom’s Desert Sojourn by S.A. Garcia:

Porn star Jason Rapier, aka “The Duke of Dickdom,” is suffering a dreadful day. Romantic rejection, deer assault, and career chaos are topped by his Porsche dying in the desert on Christmas Eve. Happily a special present guaranteed to inject the ho-ho-ho back into Jason’s holiday season is a mere service station away.

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-maddychristmasanthology-1936032-166.html

The Duke of Dickdom’s Desert Sojourn by S.A. Garcia:

Jason gazed out the window watching the snowflakes drift on the strengthening breeze. He snuggled down deeper against the expensive mattress and male warmth. A quiet after-sex cuddle felt perfect. Sweaty on-set sex never involved cuddles unless a sensitive writer included the concept in the script.

A sensitive porn writer was a rare beast.

Xavier’s muscular body radiated heat against Jason’s right side. Mmmm. His fuck buddy’s raspy breathing sounded close to sleep again. After Jason arrived at Xavier’s last night, they ate a quick sushi dinner, hopped into bed, and fucked each other on and off, supplementing sex with naps. This morning a snooze appealed to him. Still watching the snow through half-shut lashes, he nuzzled against Xavier.

A vicious thud filled the air. A large black bird—Jason couldn’t tell a raven from a vulture—swirled away from its slam against the picture window. The ebony shape contrasted against the snowflakes. A few feathers stuck to the wet glass.

Xavier jerked awake, staring at Jason with crossed-eyed irritation. “Wafuckwas that?”

“Some huge black bird bashed into the window. How freaky.”

“Weird. It must have misjudged because of the snow. Too many stupid turkey vultures around here. Geesh, I’m tired. You wore me out, bitch.”

Paint Your Balls by Chris McHart:

“Please, you have to help me! I can’t do all the work alone. It’s not my fault the reindeer have such bad colds. They’ve always played in the snow, how was I supposed to know they were freezing? I’ve had them for years, and they were never sick.”

Bunny listened to Santa’s pleas, not really concerned. It wasn’t his problem the man had sick reindeer. Bunny would need to do his job again in a few months, and he’d have to do the work all alone. He also managed to look after his chickens without them getting sick.

It was stressful enough to deliver presents and Easter eggs to all the kids around the world once a year. He’d be nuts if he’d do it twice, especially when one of these events simply wasn’t his responsibility.

Besides, Santa usually ignored him, not even giving him the time of the day. But now that the man in seductive red velvet needed him, he suddenly showed up. Why should he help him? He didn’t see a reason. It was simple as that.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Santa tried again as he paced nervously back and forth on the cloud they stood on. They were outside in the sun, close to the reindeer stables and next to the room belonging to one of the Archangels.

Meg Bawden: Meg Bawden was born and raised in North Queensland, Australia. She’s loved stories since before she can remember and has always enjoyed creating characters of her own, even if it did begin with drawing faces on toilet rolls and giving them names. Writing has always been a passion of hers and she’s loved the M/M genre since 2004, the first book she read being Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez.

Writing M/M since 2007, Meg has never had the confidence to attempt publishing her own stories, but in 2015, she decided that it was all about to change thanks to the amazing friends she’s made in the M/M genre and their support and encouragement. So watch out, world, Meg Bawden is coming out to have some fun!

S.A. Garcia: Thirty-nine years ago, I started writing gay male romance. My writing remained a secret lest my friends thought me a freak. Writing about men inserting tab A into slot B didn’t seem the norm for a suburban female teenager. Reading Gordon Merrick, John Rechy, and Larry Kramer helped me fill in the informational gaps. No wonder I read those books in my bedroom.

As the years progressed, this lesbian still wrote gay male romance, although the stories moved from lurking in notebooks to hiding on the computer. I wrote fantasies, contemporaries, bodice rippers—I chugged along following Diva Faboo, my drunken, ornery muse.

Five published novels, assorted novellas, and spicy short stories have turned my life into a fun quandary of too many stories hindered by my slow typing skills. I accept the challenge and blunder onward into more trauma, drama, and humor. Once I train my wicked men to stop ruining my plots— face it, that will never happen. They refuse to listen!

Chris McHart: Chris McHart lives in Germany, with her husband, slave, Dom, partner in crime, and muse (all in one person, not even she’s that kinky!). She loves her husband, men in kilts and Scotch Whisky. Her idea of a perfect evening is to curl up with her laptop and write (the other options are not suitable to post in public).

Visit her blog or friend her on Facebook, where you can join her author group.

Harper Jewel: Harper Jewel lives in northeast New Jersey with her husband and 18-year-old daughter. She has three cats, enjoys reading, and taking trips to Walt Disney World. With her outgoing personality and vivid imagination, she is able to create characters and plots that are believable as well as memorable.

Although she began writing male/female romance/erotica, she has finally found her niche in Gay Romance. She thoroughly enjoys her male characters as they speak to her quite loudly while proving love is love. Being the first M/M author accepted at Lush Publishing is an honor she’s very proud of.

In addition to her writing, she uses her college education and background in English and Language Arts to work as an independent editor. She’s also expanded her skills to include formatting for Smashwords Premium Catalog, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Amazon, & All Romance Ebooks.

In September 2015, she created Slippery Fingers Press & Publishing Services and plans to use the company name for self-publishing as well as her editing and formatting jobs.

To find out more about Harper Jewel, visit her website at www.harperjewel.com.

Harper Jewel:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/harper.jewel/

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/HarperJewelAuthor/

Twitter: @harperjewel1

Blog: www.harperjewel.com

Meg Bawden:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meg.bawden/

Blog: www.authormegbawden.com

S.A. Garcia:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sagarcia/

Twitter: @SAGarcia_Writer

Blog: http://oscarsbruisedpetals.blogspot.com/

Chris McHart:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008256641886

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/chrismchart

Twitter: www.twitter.com/chris_mchart

Blog: http://www.chrismchart.com

Facebook Author Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/882598865132498/

Parker Williams

Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

My Fiction Nook

Happily Ever Chapter

Jessie G. Books

Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews

Cheekypee Reads and Reviews

Inked Rainbow Reads

The Hat Party

Velvet Panic, Molly Lolly

Elisa – My Reviews and Ramblings

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Book Tour: The Right Kind of Woman by Voss Porter

Books

Author Name: Voss Porter

Book Name: The Right Kind of Woman

Series: Southern Lesbians

Book: One

Release Date: December 10, 2015

Pages or Words: 79,450

Categories: Erotica, Fiction, Humor, Lesbian Romance, Romance

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27830176-the-right-kind-of-woman

Publisher: Dark Hollows Press

Cover Artist: Eden Connors

Just when free-spirited farm girl, Cara Spencer Holloway, feels the regulatory world of her closeted, Southern enclave will swallow her whole, her three miscreant brothers team up to carelessly throw her together with regimented, Northern software designer, Dre Martin, on a misguided stop en route to Florida. One steamy stop leads to another and soon the two women will learn more about what the right kind of partner can bring to life than they had ever suspected, but can Cara Spencer move forward and out of the pain of her past, or will she succumb to the doubts that have plagued her romantic life from its very inception?

http://www.amazon.com/Right-Kind-Woman-Voss-Porter-ebook/dp/B018ZMG10M/

http://www.darkhollowspress.com/#!voss-porter/c1a01

In the mirror over the pedestal sink, she saw Cara Spencer, hands on her hourglass hips, skimming the half-inch of exposed flesh just below her navel. The scent of lavender and yellow jasmine hung in the air around her and her stare was intense, however intense did little to describe the feeling of being nailed with her almond, obsidian black eyes. Severe? Critical? Daring?

Her deep and even breaths stole the air from the room and Dre put her hands to her own throat, heart racing.

What was it with this woman? It was like she’d never really been attracted to anyone before, never fully had any appreciation or desire for a woman’s body until the moment she laid eyes on the dominant female standing in the lone stall doorway with a paper towel in her hands.

“Hello?” Cara Spencer tittered. “You can’t possibly be that blind.”

“Blind?” Was something on her face? Shit, was she blushing? Shit, shit, shit…

“They’re all smitten with you, honey. All of the Holloway boys…Like you’re the last steak on the savanna.”

Gross. Dre didn’t want to be anyone’s steak, least of all the steak any man wanted to sink his teeth into. The one male experience she’d had, back at Northwestern, had been far less than satisfying, not that it was any of his fault. Greg was his name, Greg Fillman. The only guy dumb enough to think the girl who shaved her head and dressed in men’s pants would ever want to be his girlfriend. Nope. It had been the one time in her life that Andrea had convinced herself to try a penis and see if the sensation was one she could live with… Hadn’t gone well. Had gone laughably unwell. Had necessitated ringing up Tris in the middle of the night, after she’d driven Greg home.

“Your brothers aren’t really my… Type.” She slurred.

Cara Spencer winked. “Ya don’t say…” Her hips swayed past and she put her hand on the door. “And what is your type?”

“You are.” FUCK why had she said that? Why had Dre said something so stupid?

Fuck this was embarrassing.

Dre had never so much as approached a woman like this for a quarter at a pay phone (were pay phones even a thing anymore?) and here she was, doused with liquid courage (how many beers had she had now?), and flinging about pick-up lines in a public fucking bathroom. What the fuck?!

Thankfully, and by the grace of God, Cara Spencer laughed, and not in a mocking way. Not at her, but with her. Like it was a good attempt, not a corny attempt. Like it was a real pick-up line. Like she was really, in fact, picking her up and it wasn’t wholly unsuccessful.

Writing under the pseudonym of Voss Porter, I am married to an amazing woman, I am mother to two human children who keep me on my toes, and four canine progeny. I am a proud lesbian in an LGBTQ community that is yet undiscovered, and I have been a writer from the age of six. I am a passionate storyteller, a little bit of a nerd, and a complete badass.

Facebook Author Page: facebook.com/vossporter

Twitter: @vossporter

Website: www.vossporter.com

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Book Tour: The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb by Vicktor Alexander

Books

Author Name: Vicktor Alexander

Book Name: The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

Series: The Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm

Release Date: November 27, 2015

Pages: 304 pages

Categories: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gay Fiction, Historical, M/M Romance, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, *Trans, Interracial, Military

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27422380-the-servant-duchess-of-whitcomb

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: Anne Cain

Orley Garrick is known throughout Angland not only as the man with two dukedoms but also as the hero who survived a brutal kidnapping at the hands of Nafoleon’s army, never once betraying the secrets of His Majesty. Still haunted by his memories, Orley pushes his crippled body to dangerous limits, all in an attempt to run from the demons of his past.

Until he meets Chester Boland, a maid in his friend’s household. Orley is besieged by desire for this gorgeous male woman, and by a connection he cannot ignore. But there are those within the Remmington Realm who take issue with the Duke’s choice—especially given Chester’s Tafrican lineage.

Having stared death in the face and won, Orley proposes they steal away and elope. However, before they can begin their new life, they uncover dangerous secrets that go deeper than they could ever imagine—involving those they trust the most.

Orley and Chester must discover exactly how deep these secrets run before their enemies make sure Chester is removed from Orley’s arms… forever.

THE SHARP retort of gunfire exploded around Orley Garrick, Duke of Whitcomb, and he ducked, trying to avoid the debris and the bodies of fallen soldiers around him as he surged forward. The smoke from the countless rifles burned his eyes as he desperately looked for the person who had caught his eye. He heard the cries of the dying calling out to him as he rode his horse farther into the thick of battle. Using his sword, he cut down an enemy soldier who raced toward him, mouth open as he let out a battle cry. Orley closed his eyes against the spray of blood across his face and blocked out the sound of the man’s death gurgle as he fell to the ground beneath his own horse.

Orley raced on toward the figure in white who didn’t belong on the battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the woman to be careful, because there was no way a man would be on a battlefield wearing a long, flowing white chemise, free of dust and bloodstain, appearing almost angelic among the crowd of soldiers. The woman didn’t stop. Instead she walked straight toward the commander of the enemy soldiers, and fear filled Orley. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t know the woman, and yet he could not let anything happen to her.

At that moment, the woman turned to look at him, and Orley gasped when he realized the woman in front of him was not female as he’d suspected but male. Why in the world was a lady on the battlefield?

“You should not be here!” he yelled, trying to warn the male, but just as he got close enough to lift the woman onto the back of his horse, an enemy soldier plunged his sword through the woman’s back and out through his chest. Orley watched helplessly as the woman’s eyes widened moments before he collapsed to the ground, and a grief unlike aught he’d ever experienced ripped through him.

He was not sure how he knew, but the dying woman belonged to him, and someone had just taken him away.

Tossing his head back, Orley let out an anguished shout at the heavens.

ORLEY WOKE, panting and sweating, in the home of his friend, Heathcliff.

Holy. Shit. That one had been very different from his other nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as pain raced through his leg—the one that would never be the same. All because of war, a battle. All because of….

Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.

Someone knocked lightly on the door, and Orley winced as he realized his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap after his taxing journey out of Tlondon had turned into a deep sleep and a brand-new nightmare.

God, he hated sleeping.

“Enter,” he called out as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed he was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and Lucien for their country-house party. The door opened, and Orley turned to address the person standing there. He stopped short, almost swallowing his tongue as he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever been born.

Orley had been privileged to see many beautiful people in his life. Male and female, he was a lover of aesthetically pleasing images and didn’t discriminate. However, all of them paled in comparison to the lovely light-brown-skinned woman in front of him. Orley’s stomach clenched, his groin tightening as he inhaled sharply. The lovely scent of jasmine wafted up to his nostrils, and his eyes slid closed as he relished in the delightful fragrance emanating from the male who had just entered his room.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was sent to bring you a light repast and perhaps something to wash up with? His Grace the Duke of Pompinshire thought that perhaps you would like to freshen up before joining the rest of the guests downstairs.” The woman’s voice was soft and lyrical, with a slight lilt to it, and Orley wondered if perhaps he sang. He would have no problem lounging around on the settee listening to him sing or even just talk. Of course, as he took in the male’s appearance, he felt the desire to do much more than just listen to him.

“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant asked, and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.

“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts, I’m afraid. I appear to have overslept during my nap, and now I am feeling quite peckish,” he lied.

The woman nodded, his hazel eyes lighting with relief. Orley wondered at that. Was his well-being really of great concern, or was it just because the maid had been sent to look after Orley?

Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the young male’s form again, taking in every detail intently. He would like to have something to conjure up in his mind’s eye later on that evening when he put his hand to his already burgeoning erection.

Wearing the female black dress with a white apron, which was the maid’s uniform that was standard in most homes of the gentry, the young woman had honey blond hair that was currently pulled back in a very luscious chignon at the nape of his neck, and Orley could only imagine how long and thick it was. An image rose to his brain of that hair hanging down over his face as the young woman slid up and down his cock, and he pressed a hand to the sheets covering his waist. The young male’s skin was almond colored, and all Orley wanted to do was spend hours licking every inch of his body. He was not overly tall, only a few inches taller than Lucien, Heath’s husband, but still much shorter than Orley. And where Orley was all hard, thick muscles, the male maid before him was slender, though still with a lovely, toned body.

His slim-fingered hands held a covered silver tray, and Orley gestured him forward with a beckoning wave.

“Well, far be it from me to refuse such generosity from His Grace. You can just place it there on the nightstand,” he directed, watching the sway of the servant’s hips beneath the skirt of his maid’s gown as he walked toward the cherrywood nightstand. Orley shoved his fingers through his blond locks, messing up his hair and throwing his queue into disarray. He was unnerved as the vestiges of the nightmare faded from his mind, wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of Heathcliff’s maid, whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in his balls.

“Is there anything else that I can do for you, Your Grace?” the maid asked, his voice hushed, eyes downcast, and a slight tinge of red to his light brown skin.

Orley prided himself on being a man of honor, integrity, and character. As a matter of fact, his grandfather, Charles Edrick Garrick I, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him lessons and lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Anyone can strut around and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes honor, patience, gentleness, character, integrity, fortitude, knowing when to fight, knowing when to walk away, knowing when to love, how to love, and when to let go, and most importantly, knowing when to use your physical strength and when to be humble, that makes you a man.

Orley had always believed those words from his grandfather, had in fact lived by those words for his entire life. He’d only strayed from them when he’d served in His Majesty’s military and on those rare occasions when he’d allowed Blaine, Heathcliff, and Quincy to talk him into traveling down into the Lower East End to partake of the wares of the light-skirts. And while his grandfather’s words usually guided him, right now he was seriously considering doing something illicit.

He couldn’t believe the images that were passing through his mind. Flashes. Quick, as if they were memories like his time spent on the battlefield rather than the salacious, hopeful yearnings of a desirous, dry, fruitless attraction. However, the longer he spent in the company of the object of his mind’s current musings, the more it seemed his “dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And perhaps it was for that reason that rationality and his grandfather’s words of character, honor, and integrity grew softer and softer until they were suddenly silent. All he could concentrate on was how lovely Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the male woman’s derriere was. How slim his shoulders were. How graceful his neck was.

How full his lips were, and how much Orley desperately wanted to kiss them.

“I think I would really like to know your name,” he heard himself saying.

The maid’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly. “Me, Your Grace?”

Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no one else in the room but you and I, and I assure you that I already know my own name. Unless it has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”

The maid giggled and covered his mouth, shaking his head. Orley found himself even more enchanted. When was the last time he’d heard someone allow themselves to be so free that they just giggled? His life was constantly surrounded by danger, drama, gossip, backstabbers, and intrigue. He had a very small group of people he could trust, and they didn’t often have the time to smile, much less giggle. Being around someone who could giggle was a relief. It was like a bright ray of sunshine. Orley absolutely had to have the maid’s name.

“No, Your Grace. Your name hasn’t changed.” The maid glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then looked back. “My name is Chester.” He executed a flawless curtsy, and Orley rose from the bed and bowed low, smiling at Chester’s gasp. He knew Chester was surprised that a member of the gentry, and a duke no less, would bow to him, but he would soon learn that Orley was unlike every other duke out there.

“It is an honor to meet you, Chester. I am extremely happy to be in your presence and very happy that you will be serving me, and now….” Orley stepped close to Chester, looking down into the young woman’s hazel brown eyes. His heart was pounding, and his leg, for the first time in years, was not throbbing in pain—perhaps that was because only one thing on his body could be throbbing at a time, and his cock already had that covered. “I would very much like to kiss you.”

“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.

Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.

“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I would really like to kiss you. May I?”

“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”

Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with “men” of a certain ilk. He would be speaking with Heathcliff about those matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his energy and attention was focused on Chester.

“Of course I am asking you. You always have a choice. Not just with me, but with every single man in the world. You do not have to do anything you don’t want to do. At least, that is the way it should be in a perfect world. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.” Orley would be disappointed, he would be haunted for days, perhaps a fortnight, by the fullness of Chester’s mouth, but eventually he would get over it.

Chester nibbled on his bottom lip and then grinned. “I would love for you to kiss me, Your Grace.”

Orley wanted to let out a loud yell of triumph, but he held back and lowered his lips to Chester’s full, pillow-soft mouth. He was fully expecting the surge of lust that spread through his limbs. Maybe he was even expecting the tingle that spread through his fingers and toes. However, the lightheaded feeling that drowned him in peace and yet simultaneous excitement, and the way his heart sped up, were completely unexpected. He growled and pulled Chester to him, as close as he could possibly get the woman. He felt a bit like a ravenous beast, wanting to devour Chester whole.

He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened his eyes, and gazed down into Chester’s dazed ones. Chester smiled slowly up at him. Orley grinned back, rubbing his hand up and down Chester’s back and already preparing for the next round of kissing.

So he was surprised when he went to lower his head for another kiss and was met with nothing but air and the sound of his bedroom door closing.

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to BDSM to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

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Today I’m welcoming Vicktor Alexander to chat about writing, life, and their current project. Welcome! Let’s talk a little about The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb.

What inspired you to write this story?

I am a huge history nerd and the Regency and Medieval time period are my favourite eras after the American Civil War. I wanted to write a series set during the Regency time period, reminiscent of the Harlequin Romance and Harper Collins books of old. The kind where there are betrothals, forced marriages, pregnancies that lead to marriage, highwaymen who kidnap the young, virgin, lady and seduces her into a relationship, etc. However, I wanted it to be a gay romance series, paying homage to the transgender/intersex community, I wanted my “men” or my “males” to be able to get pregnant, but I still wanted to keep it historically accurate. So I figured out a way to do it. It all came because of a question I asked myself: “What if there were certain females in the Regency period who were called dukes and certain males who were called duchesses and could get pregnant? Then there would have to be females who could get their spouses pregnant… how would that work?”

In regards to this particular novel one of the things I love most about England’s history is that while people frowned on interracial relationships, they were never really illegal. So too, when it came to slavery, it didn’t really exist in England. There were plenty of noble gentlemen who were involved in the slave trade but they didn’t really have slavery. Actually having an African servant meant you were a person of great standing, and could afford to “purchase” and employ an African. There were many Africans who lived in the Lower East End and were barristers, blacksmiths, etc. So, knowing that I wanted to envision a pairing (or more) where someone who was part of the nobility married and had a child with an African male. What type of scandal would that cause? How would people react?

And because of the time frame the series is set in: 1811-1820, the Regency time period, there was also the added bonus of my being able to engage many of my characters in the tense, dangerous adventure of the Napoleonic Wars, which Orley is a wounded soldier of, and his friends all served in. So this book, this series gave me the chance to combine my love of writing history, with writing romance, and also paying homage to a community that isn’t often discussed or written about.

Is there a character you feel especially connected to? Why?

My assistant, Melissa, told me that Orley and I were the same. She said it’s because he’s possessive, loyal, strong, faithful, has endured hell but can still smile, he’s dominant, romantic, doesn’t care about crossing the lines that others have put out there because they don’t matter to him. I will say that of the characters I’ve written about so far, Orley is the one I connect with the most. Though I have a feeling that’s going to change later on in the series.

What was the hardest part of writing this?

The research is always the hardest part of writing a historical novel. Between that, the whole angst part of the story, and the fact that I wrote the book during NaNoWriMo, I was pretty stressed out, but I’m so happy that everything worked out in the end.

Choose a favorite line or short passage. What do you like about it?

He was wholly unprepared for the hearty chuckle that left the duke’s mouth or the way the man clapped before bowing before him. “Bravo, Lady Chester. I am glad you are not given to believe you are somehow less deserving of respect than I, just because I sleep in a certain room of the estate and you happen to clean it. I have said for decades that it was all a crock. Only to those who would find my words amenable, of course, and wouldn’t bluster at my upsetting what they think is their God-given birthright.”

Chester had a lot to process and ask about, or even to point out what was right and wrong about His Grace’s statement, but his brain had gotten stuck on one word in the duke’s entire diatribe. Lady. He called me a lady. Why, he is mad!

Chester shook his head. “Your Grace. I am no lady. I am just a maid. One whose mother is Tafrican.”

He dropped his gaze to the armchair he stood behind, taking in the dark green fabric and gold stitching. His erection was long gone. The skirt of his maid’s uniform now fell effortlessly over his groin, and Chester should have been relieved, but as he looked at his light brown, almond-colored skin, all he felt was an extreme disappointment. This was just another blight against his chance at happiness.

Had he actually been born a lady, perhaps he might have caught the duke’s eye at a ball, and they could have danced in each other’s arms. Maybe the duke would have courted Chester for a few months before asking his maldy for his hand in marriage? But, if his station wasn’t enough, he was also born half Tafrican. While many members of the gentry found him and his siblings quite exotic looking, often wanting them to come and work in their homes for aesthetic appeal, sneers and looks of disgust were tossed his way as well.

No. Whatever foolish notions his kiss with the duke had sprung from earlier that morning, they had to be dealt with and cast aside quickly. Those dreams led only to heartbreak, and Chester was quite sure he wasn’t strong enough to handle it.

He was startled by the soft touch of large fingers tilting his head up, and he found himself staring into the Duke’s pale blue gaze. The Duke of Whitcomb stood over a foot taller than Chester, and his broad-shouldered frame looked as if it could completely engulf Chester’s own slender one. He resisted the urge to press against the hard body in front of him as he stared into the duke’s eyes.

“You are more of a lady than most of the debutantes and women of the ton, Lady Chester. While you may not have been born into a genteel family, that does not mean that you do not deserve the title, nor the respect, because you should have both.” The duke’s voice was low. Sincere. It sent a flush of desire straight through Chester’s body, pooling in his groin and setting his heart into a pounding rhythm.

Without thought, he lifted onto his toes and pressed a kiss to the side of the duke’s lips, then stepped back. “Thank you… Orley.”

The duke bowed. “It was my greatest pleasure, Lady Chester.”

I love this passage because it’s here that Orley establishes the fact that he doesn’t see Chester the way that everyone else does. It’s where Chester realizes that he can have respect for himself, that he could dream, and dream big. This scene is the one where Chester decides to take a moment of happiness for himself with Orley, and this is where Orley shows that Chester is not wrong in desiring that, and that he would be receptive. For me, this is where Chester and Orley began loving each other. But that’s just for me, Orley and Chester don’t think so. LOL.

Tell us a little about any upcoming projects.

Well, there’s book 3 of this series: the Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, entitled: The Priceless Viscountess that follows a couple revealed at the end of this book (so I can’t share the blurb… sorry!). I’m also writing Happiness In All Sizes which is a novel with the main factors given to me from Kim Tyler who won the “Create your Own Story” contest by donating to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. Then there is The Beta Prince, the sequel to The Alpha King, Washington, book 3 in The Sevion Brotherhood which follows the book Michigan which released with MLR. And a host of other books/stories. There are a few I’m really looking forward to writing: Whatever It Takes, Miracle on John Young Parkway, and the full versions of the stories I’ve written for the Goodreads M/M Romance Group’s Don’t Read In The Closet event. These are just a few of the books, not all of them. At last count my WIP list was 270+ between all of my pennames, though most of them are M/M Romance. Though I am looking forward to writing I Am Jack, a historical, horror novel.

What subjects would you never write about?

I don’t really like to say “never” because usually one of my characters pops up and says “Oh… by the way…” but I can safely say that I don’t ever see there being a time when I will write about someone with a scat fetish, someone who is into necrophilia (and having that be a positive thing-there for titillation), or bestiality. –shudders-

Are there topics or issues you wish were more common in books?

I think I wish interracial relationships were more common in books, as well as minority characters as the MCs. I wish there were more transgender/intersex/genderfluid/genderqueer MCs. I wish there were more stories where the characters or the storyline was unlike what someone would expect, that would cross lines. For example, where the minority character was the teacher, or the billionaire, and the Caucasian character was the one in need of help. Something that was outside of the box. Maybe one where mates weren’t found by smell but by some other way, and mates weren’t forever. I love reading stuff like that. I also wish BDSM books that come from the perspective of the Dom was more common.

What is one subject you would really like to tackle in a story?

Usually anything I want to tackle I do, or have plans to, but I’d really like to tackle the two star-cross’d lovers. Sort of a Romeo & Juliet type of story where it’s a HEA but not in the way people expect.

Word sprints!

Plotter or pantser? Both. I plot out the book, but my characters end up making me a pantser
Musical theater or rock concert? Musical theater. I LOVE Broadway and Tyler Perry plays.
What’s your favorite food? Lasagna. Homemade the correct way.
What’s the best vacation spot? Or if you can’t go that far: Boston.
What are you currently wearing? LOL. I’m not so sure I can or should answer that…

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Cover Reveal: A Kind of Truth by Lane Hayes

Books, Covers

Author Name: Lane Hayes

Book Name: A Kind of Truth

Series: A Kind Of

Book: One

Release Date: January 8, 2016

Pages or Words: 82,000 words

Categories: Bisexual, Contemporary, Erotica, Gay Fiction, Humor, M/M Romance, Romance

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7125719.Lane_Hayes

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: Aaron Anderson

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Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=7251

Watching Will’s face turn pink then red was extraordinarily entertaining. I nudged his elbow playfully and tried to gain control of my smile before it threatened to take over my entire face. When I couldn’t take the building pressure of emotion, I winked at the girls then leaned in and kissed his lips, loving that I took him by surprise. The elevator doors slid open a moment later. Will stepped into the empty corridor and gave me a wide-eyed incredulous stare.

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

“What? Kissed you on an elevator? It’s not like farting, ya know.”

Will huffed a sigh that clearly said he thought I was hopeless before turning to walk down the hall. “I was talking about the underwear comment but yeah, the kissing part was awkward too. No one wants to watch two people going at in a confined space. And besides, we’re supposed to be playing this strictly straight while we’re in public.”

He stopped to unlock the door to the classroom then pushed it open, pausing to give me a perturbed look before he moved inside ahead of me. I barked a quick laugh as I set my guitar on the back table and shrugged my jacket off.

“First of all, that was hardly going at it. It was a peck. You were the one advertising I left my clothes at your place in front of a couple cute girls. And who said anything about playing straight?”

“Were we not in the same room two mornings ago talking about this?”

“We were. In fact, we were naked in your bed. Decidedly un-straight. But the way I remember it, I was one who was holding back the gay while you were the one going for it. But let’s go back to the elevator. I think you purposefully blew my cover back there with those girls. Were you jealous?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” he quipped as he made his way to the piano.

“Well, the next time you announce you’re holding my underwear hostage in a crowd, all bets are off, baby.” I gave him a lascivious once-over and waggled my eyebrows before tightening the strap on my guitar.

Will chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m pretty sure your tighty-whities never came up. My comment was perfectly innocent. There’s a big difference between hats and underwear.”

“I’m on to you, Will. You wanted those girls to know something’s going on between us. They’re probably talking right now. Bet they’re wondering if we’re in here having sex. Hell, they could be outside that door listening. Maybe we should give ‘em something to talk about.” I made a show of unbuckling my belt and the top button on my 501s. “Is there a camera in this room?”

“Keep your pants on. I’ve got two months left till graduation and I’d prefer not to get kicked out of school, please,” Will said primly, smacking my hand away.

“You won’t get kicked out. I doubt we’d be the first anyway.”

I rezipped my jeans and started to back up, but at the last second, I reached out to cup his chin between my thumb and forefinger. I traced his jaw and let my thumb roam higher to caress his cheekbone just under his glasses. His eyes fluttered shut. I loved the contrast of his fair skin and darker lashes and eyebrows. He was so damn pretty. And those lips. They were sensuous. That was the word. I leaned in and brushed my nose against his. I could feel his breath on my lips. The urge to plunge my tongue inside and take what I was very sure we both wanted was strong, but I waited for his permission.

When he didn’t respond, I let my hand fall to my side and started to pull back. Maybe he really was serious about propriety in the classroom. I wasn’t used to curbing my impulses to suit someone’s else’s sensibilities. I’d spent twenty-five years doing only what I wanted. Screw anyone else. Now here I was, attempting to hide my gay side publicly while trying to follow Will’s lead in private. It felt strange, I thought, just as Will launched himself at me.

I grunted in surprise when he wrapped his arms around my neck and crashed his mouth over mine. He softened the connection and tilted his head as he raked his fingers through my hair. I responded but let him control the tempo. Until he tentatively licked my lips. Fuck, he tasted sweeter than I remembered. Like peppermint candy or hot chocolate. I pulled him flush against my chest and slid my tongue alongside his, twisting and colliding in a passionate fusion. When he gasped for air I pulled back only to have him grind his hips into mine and lick my jaw. He swayed into me with a moan and lost his footing.

“Steady there.”

Will was sexier than he knew, which spelled potential danger for me. It was better to let the music take over for now.

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions in the 2014 and 2015 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and the coolest yellow Lab ever in an almost empty nest.