Saturday, April 30, 2011

Special Guest Julie Hayes

My guest today is fellow Silver Flash Fiction writer, Julie Hayes.  Julie's here to celebrate the release of her latest novel, Leonardo di Caprio is a Vampire, which is available as of today, April 30th.

Smile though your heart is aching 
Smile even though it's breaking. 
When there are clouds in the sky 
you'll get by. 

Actor/director/composter Charlie Chaplin wrote the music for this song in 1936 for his film Modern Times. The lyrics weren’t added until 1954. In the film, Chaplin’s best known character, the Little Tramp, struggles to survive in a highly industrialized world. Although the film is ostensibly a comedy, it is also a commentary on the life of the common man, and the struggle faced by many people during the Great Depression. Even though by the time that the words were put to the melody, the Little Tramp had made his last film—The Great Dictator, in 1940—the message is one that was always taken to heart and displayed by the character throughout his career, displaying the dichotomy which existed within him. The tragedy within the comedy.

Not only is there a fine line between humor and drama, the same precarious balance exists between love and hate, life and death. And sometimes little to distinguish between them. Yes, Chaplin’s films are comedies, certainly on the surface, but dig a little deeper and what do you find? Much much more. Who can ever forget the scene in The Kid, when the orphaned boy whom the Tramp has taken under his wing and loved and cared for, is being wrenched from his arms? He’s crying, the Tramp’s crying, it’s a heartbreaking moment. Who didn’t cry? I did. Or what about the tender love which the Tramp displayed for the poor flower girl in City Lights? How hard he fought to help her, and how much he loved her, never knowing if that love would be or could be returned?

What am I trying to say? Basically, you can’t have one without the other. Your character does not exist in a world solely composed of all comedy or all drama. all love or all hate. He or she has to have layers because in the real world, people are not one-note wonders. Successful characters need to be much more. You can tell when a character doesn’t work—when his motives are unrealistic or his personality is too wooden. When he’s too perfect to be real. That can be a definite fatal flaw to a story, one that is sure to make us close the book and not bother to finish. Sure, we like to write about our pretty boys, and how wonderful they are. But make them interesting – give them flaws, give them hobbies and interests (outside of sex, please!) Make them human, and make them believable.

Chaplin’s Little Tramp wasn’t necessarily much to look at—with his trademark bowler, tight coat, oversized shoes and cane, but you know what? He was instantly recognizable. Sure, your guy has abs and buns of steel, but so does every other hot hero on the block. Give yours something that makes him stand out in the crowd, in the line that’s vying to get all the readers’ attention. I think this is why vampires have their Achilles’ heels, the rules and regulations they must conform to, because otherwise they’re all powerful and where’s the challenge in that? The reader is going to remember what’s in your hero’s heart and soul a lot longer than what’s in his pants. Also, lots of sex doesn’t necessarily equate to a good story.

If you smile through your pain and sorrow 
Smile and maybe tomorrow 
You'll see the sun come shining through 
For you. 

Let’s take this a step further, shall we? If we make it too easy on our heroes, if everything comes easily to them because of their great beauty and gorgeous physique, then what are we reading about? Stories need conflict, so to satisfy the reading public, you have to torture your hero in some way. Give him obstacles to overcome, problems to solve, tragedies to survive. Make him human—even if he isn’t. He’ll thank you for it. After he gets over being mad.

Give them goals, give them dreams, give them something to live for. The path of life can be a rocky road, but it makes for better reading than the story of a person whose life gets handed to them on a silver platter.

In Leonardo di Caprio is a Vampire, Fisher Roberts thinks he has his life laid out pretty well—he has a good job, he co-owns his own home, along with his best friend Hunter Long, he does the things that society says he should, and he’s good to his mother. What more could he want? Maybe to be honest with himself about how he feels about his best friend and about what he really wants out of his life?
His life starts to unravel at Halloween, a holiday that Fisher does not enjoy, but Hunter does. Fisher has promised to attend a Halloween party he has no wish to go to, his job may be in jeopardy, and Hunter is acting stranger than usual. At the party, Fisher learns something that potentially threatens to tear their relationship apartment for good.
And then things proceed to get weird.

Remember to make your characters multi-dimension. Give them personalities beneath their pretty faces. And throw some boulders in their paths when they’re skipping down them. You’ll be glad you did!

“Tis the night before Halloween, and Fisher Roberts wishes it was over, not being a fan of this or any other holiday.  But he tolerates it because his roommate/best friend Hunter Long takes a childish glee in all things Halloween.  And Fisher has a vested interest in keeping Hunter happy.  If only he could find the nerve to tell his childhood friend that he loves him, and has for a very long time.
Fisher thinks Hunter is carrying things a bit far this year, though.  First Hunter claims to be a vampire, and he just won’t let the silly joke go.  Then he forces Fisher to go to a costumed Halloween party which Fisher would rather avoid, especially when he realizes where it’s being held, and whose house it is. Things at Fisher’s job might just be going south, too, when he receives a mysterious summons to report to the editor’s office the next morning.  And then Fisher goes and does something stupid—like kissing Hunter!
Bad leads to worse when Fisher ends up at the Halloween party from Hell, and he learns something that threatens to destroy his and Hunter’s relationship forever.  Running from his fears, Fisher encounters a strange young man with an unusual resemblance to Leonardo di Caprio, who shows him things he never realized before, truths about his life and the people in it.
Can Fisher find his way back to Hunter, and can he find the courage to do what his heart wishes?
“Did you know that Leonardo di Caprio is a vampire?”
Fisher Roberts stopped in mid-chew of a mouthful of fibrous cereal to cast a wary, disbelieving glance at his best friend and roommate Hunter Long on the other side of the table.  Wary, because he wondered what in the world Hunter was going on about so early in the morning.  Disbelieving, because he only had so much time for breakfast before he had to get going to work, and he had a bad feeling that Hunter was trying to eat into that time.  Why he wanted to do that was beyond Fisher.  Of course, a lot of things about his roommate were beyond Fisher, despite the fact that they’d been friends since they were—well, too young to actually remember how long they’d known each other.  But for as long as Fisher could remember, he and Hunter had been best buddies.  And he’d learned over the years that, with Hunter, longevity did not equate to knowledge-ability, far from it.
Now, Fisher could react in one of two ways.  He could ignore his roommate and keep eating.  Pretend he’d heard nothing.  But from past experience, that would only cause Hunter’s performance to escalate.  Which would entail taking more time to decipher what he was saying, and in the process make Fisher even later to work.   Or he could simply bow down to the inevitable and give in by asking him the question he was doubtless waiting to hear.  Even if it brought about that smug smirk he was so fond of wearing.
Fisher finished chewing, swallowed, and managed not to roll his eyes as he reached for his juice to kill off what was left in the glass.  Waste not, want not.  “What do you mean?”
Hunter Long might be six foot two and possessed of a body that many a male model would kill for—at least that’s what Fisher heard the girls who flocked around him say—with the palest of blue eyes that twinkled all the time, and a smile that could and did light up a room.  But honestly, he had the capacity to be an overgrown child at times, and this was one of those times.  Fisher chalked it up to it being that time of year.
“Well,” Hunter replied, “look at him, going on forty, and he looks just like he did what, fifteen years ago?  It only stands to reason he must be a vampire.  They never age, you know.  I mean take a look at us.  We’re almost his age, but over the years we’ll grow up to be little old men and he’ll still be playing sweet baby-faced guys even when he’s collecting social security, know what I mean?”
“There are no such things as vampires,” Fisher made his typical logical reply, “and just because it’s Halloween tomorrow night, and you’ve got the house all decorated for it, doesn’t mean you have to bring it to the table.  Know what I mean?”  He arched a no-nonsense brow at the other man.  This was not Fisher’s favorite time of year.  Neither was Christmas, come to think of it.  Or any other holiday.  Ironic that he should write articles for a living that meant he was forced to expound on such seasonal topics for Midwest Home and Fantasy, a regional online magazine with a growing fan-base, when he had no real interest in them himself, being a practical, no-nonsense kind of a guy.
“I’m a vampire.” Hunter smiled, leaning across the table toward Fisher.  “Want to see my fangs?”

Thanks for being here today Julie, and congratulations on your new release.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Contest Winner

The winner of the Silver Flash Fiction Scavenger Hunt Contest is ... Loh Ah Mooi!

Congratulations! Your fabulous collection of prizes is on the way.

Thanks to all the readers who participated. Hope you continue to enjoy the Silver Flash Fiction Wednesdays.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Silver Flash Fiction and Amazing Scavenger Hunt

It's Wednesday again. That means it's time for another flash fiction, but this week we flashers are doing something a little different.

This week we're hosting a scavenger hunt and we're hoping you'll join us. Visit each of the blogs listed below between Wednesday, April 20th and the end of the hunt on Tuesday, April 26th, send a list of the blog authors with at least one of their main characters names to, and you'll be entered to win this awesome prize package:

One travel bottle of Bath & Bodyworks Sensual Amber body wash and Sensual Amber lotion from Heather Lin
Several handmade bath bombs from Victoria Blisse
One book thong from Lindsay Klug
One ebook from RJ Scott
One ebook from Lily Sawyer
One ebook from Pender Mackie
One ebook from Julie Hayes
One ebook from Ryssa Edwards
One ebook from LM Brown
One ebook from Xavier Axelson

That's right. One lucky hunter will win ALL of these items, generously donated by the Silver Flashers. The drawing will take place on Thursday, April 28th and will be posted by midnight on Friday, April 29th.

And now this week's flash fiction. The prompt was "Wouldn't that be romantic?"

I'd Do It For You
Copyright © 2011

“God damn it!” Eric glared at his computer.

“What’s up?” Lena leaned over their shared cubicle wall and rested her arms on the top, waiting expectantly.

“I can’t send this email. I keep getting stupid error messages.”

“Do you have the right address?”

“Of course I do. Shit! I don’t have time for this.” He drew in a couple of calming breaths. “Sorry. Yeah. It must be Outlook.”  

Lena grinned. “Awesome! Call I.T. Maybe they’ll send that new guy. He’s Russian and apparently uber sexy.”

Eric squinted up at her. “New guy?”

“Nikolai something. I haven’t seen him but Emily in H.R. said he’s so hot he shimmers.”

“You want me to call I.T. so you can check out the hot Russian,” Eric said slowly.

“You bet!” Lena’s curly hair bounced with her enthusiasm. “Come on, Eric, we can both check him out. I bet he’d fuel your fantasies.”

"Not so loud," Eric scolded.

Lena batted her eyelashes. “Come on, Eric. I’d do it for you.”

Eric grumbled but made the call, wincing as he sat through an instrumental version of Taking Care of Business. He dutifully wrote down his I.T. ticket number. “It’s in the system. We’ll probably see I.T. sometime next week and it’ll be the geeky guy.”

Lena made a face “Ugh. His teeth always look like he’s just finished eating an egg-salad sandwich.”

Eric smiled and opened an Excel spreadsheet. It would serve Lena right if egg-salad guy asked her out.


“You are Eric Kendrall?”

Damn it. He’d been building this macro for an hour. Trust I.T. to show up at the worst time.

Eric looked up, and up. It wasn’t the geeky guy. The man standing in his cubicle looked like something out of a book on mythology. He was tall, muscular and his short hair was very blond.

Blue eyes stared straight at him. “I understand your Outlook is faulty.”

Eric bristled. “My outlook's fine.”

“Yet you are unable to send emails.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Eric flushed.

“May I see?”

“Sure.” Eric saved his work and scooted out of the way. “Here, use my chair.”

He stood, watching as the big blond sat and began tapping at his keyboard. On the other side of the cubicle wall Lena caught his eye and fanned herself. Eric rolled his eyes and turned away.

He felt bad they’d started off on the wrong foot and it was awkward just standing around. “I haven’t seen you before. You’re new?” 

Hot I.T. guy stopped typing. He turned in the chair and scrutinized Eric. Finally, when Eric thought he wasn’t going to say anything, the guy held out his hand. “Nikolai Asimov.”

His accent made his name sound even more exotic. Eric thought he heard Lena sigh.

“Eric Kendrall.” He watched as his hand was swallowed in the other’s, wincing as he anticipated his bones being crushed. The other man’s grip was firm, but not painful.

“I already know your name.”

Eric blinked.

“It was on your request for service.”

“Oh. Right.” Why was that disappointing? Eric leaned against his filing cabinet. He wasn’t interested in Mr. KGB. Was he?

He watched as Nikolai turned back to the computer. The guy was pretty hot. With that short, almost military haircut and those muscular shoulders he’d look great in uniform though Eric wasn’t sure if the KGB had worn uniforms: Probably not.

And he had the most intense gaze. Eric bet he’d be right at home shining a bright light in someone’s face, interrogating him or her.

The words from an old BB Gabor song popped into his brain, Nyet, nyet Soviet. Soviet Jewelry. Wasn’t that slang for handcuffs?

Eric wouldn’t be surprised if Nikolai had some soviet jewelry. Nikolai’s hands were broad and strong looking; perfect for wielding handcuffs. Why did he find that idea mildly exciting?

“Are you related to Issac Asimov, the writer?” Eric asked.

Nikolai spared him a brief look before turning back to the screen. “No.”   

Obviously small talk was not tall, built and blond’s forte. Eric bit back a sigh and straightened. He opened his filing cabinet. Might as well organize his next task.

“I have read him though. He is a very good writer.”

Eric turned around. Nikolai was watching him.

“Have you read him, Eric?”

With that accent everything Nikolai said sounded sexy. Even the way he said Eric’s name. He felt a frisson of excitement begin low in his belly and travel up his spine.

 “Yeah. I’ve read everything he ever wrote.”

“It is amusing. You are a lover of science-fiction yet I am the stereotypical computer technician.”

“There’s nothing stereotypical about you,” Eric blurted. He clamped his lips together. Why the hell had he said that?

Nikolai smiled and Eric almost groaned. That smile was sexy as hell.

“I believe that is a compliment. Thank you.”

Nikolai cheeks were tinged with pink. Was he blushing? Holy fuck, was he interested? Eric felt his face burn. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “You’re welcome.”

Nikolai met his eyes and smiled again. He turned back to the computer.

Lena walked over to the printer. She winked at Eric as she walked past. Eric ignored her.

“It is done.”

Eric jumped. “Oh, great. Thanks.”

Nikolai stood and moved closer. He stared at Eric with his intense eyes. “You have a much more serious problem, Eric.”

“Really?” Eric took a half step back.

Nikolai leaned in. “You have memory leakage but I will take care of it for you.”

“Okay.” Eric swallowed. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing. I am happy to do this for you.”

“Good. Great.”

“I will come back tomorrow. Yes?”

“Yes,” Eric agreed.

Nikolai scrutinized him then smiled again. “Tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and left.

Lena jumped up. “Oh my God, he’s hot: Scary though. He was totally flirting with you.”


“Maybe he’ll try to seduce you. Wouldn't that be romantic?"

Eric wasn’t sure romantic was the right word but it sure would be interesting.

To be continued.

Here's the rest of the Silver Flashers for this week. Don't forget to visit their blogs and take part in the scavenger hunt.

Julie Hayes (m/m)

Heather Lin (m/f)

L. M. Brown (m/m)

Victoria Blisse (m/f)

Lindsay Klug (m/f)

Sui Lynn (m/m)

Lily Sawyer (m/m)

Nicole Dennis (m/m)

Ryssa Edwards (m/m)

RJ Scott (m/m)

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Special Guest L. M. Brown

Today my guest is L.M. Brown who is blogging about something I’m sure all of us have thought about at one time or another. 

Hi Pender and anyone lingering at this blog today.  I’m L.M. Brown and rather than blog about one of my books today, I decided I would get on my rather dusty soapbox for a little while.  I hope you don’t mind.

As one of many writers with an “Evil Day Job” I often find my lunch hours filled with running around town like a maniac trying to get everything done and queuing for ridiculously long times in various shops.  Generally when I am stuck in one of those lines I find my mind wandering to characters, plots and my writing, all the time cursing that I am not going to get near my laptop for several hours, by which time the inspiration will probably have left me.

Yes, I do carry a notebook in my bag, but unfortunately finding it amongst the rest of the junk I seem to carry round with me is a bit of a lost cause. 

But sometimes the inspiration does stick with me, especially when I see something that stays with me for a long time afterwards, like the events of this particular day did.

In my efforts to save time during the Christmas shopping madness a couple of years ago I got into the habit of buying my lunches in Boots.  For those that don’t know, Boots is a chemist with vague aspirations of a convenience store rather than my footwear.  The idea was that I could pick up toiletries, makeup, wrapping paper, stocking fillers and my lunch at the same time, rather than trailing all over town for the various things on my list.

Now, for some reason my local Boots has something like six or eight cashiers at the main payment point in the store, however I have yet to see more than three people on at a time, which, as you can imagine is rather frustrating when the line of customers is crawling through the aisles like a many-legged monster.  This means, as you can probably guess, an interminably long wait.

My local store also has a habit of keeping at least some chocolate goodies right near the tills with the last minute things you might have forgotten – tissues, headache tablets, condoms – though how anyone can forget the chocolate is beyond me. 

As a total chocoholic, I found myself looking anywhere except at the tempting display at my side.  There was going to be far too much fattening food coming up at Christmas as it was.

So, instead of looking at the chocolates I found myself looking at the people in front of me in the queue.  There was a mother with her push chair complete with a toddler trying to grab at anything in reach on the bottom shelf; other workers like myself, tapping their feet and checking watches impatiently; and two couples. 

The first couple was a teenage boy and girl, who were so engrossed in each other they nearly lost their place in the queue when their turn to be served came round.  They were, to put it simply, all over each other.  I am sure everyone has seen a couple like this at some point, whether it is at the local train station or on the dance floor of the local night club.  They were pretty much oblivious to everyone else in the store, and no one batted so much as an eyelid in their direction.

The second couple was two men who I would guess were in their early twenties.  Unsurprisingly, they weren’t snogging in the middle of the store, and I doubt very much they would have done so as teenagers either.  They stood close together and at first glance they didn’t even seem like a couple.  After all, in the days on the run up to Christmas the stores were packed and we were all squeezed in like sardines. 

But what gave them away was the simple gesture of one of the men reaching up to push back the hair of the other, his fingers lingering just a shade longer than necessary. 

It was such a small thing, but there was enough love and affection between the two of them to make it obvious to anyone who was observing them. 

What makes me sad though was when the second man pulled back he looked frantically around the store in case someone had seen, and the moment passed.

Meanwhile, the two teenagers were still locked at the lip, without a care in the world.

Even in this modern world, in a country where same sex unions are allowed (at least in the form of civil partnerships, if not yet marriages), two men who were obviously in a relationship, couldn’t even show simple affection for each other without worrying about what everyone else in the store would think. 

Now I readily admit that I like to put my characters through all sorts of trials before they find their happy ever after.  Whether their problems relate to the difficulties of sex in the backseat of a car (Driving Me Crazy), or one of them being long since dead and lingering around as a ghost (Touch of a Ghost), my heroes have their work cut out for them.

It is a shame that solutions to the various problems of my heroes are easier to find than remedies for the real life society problems faced by same sex couples.

Perhaps one day though, same sex couples will be treated the same as het couples, and then the trials of discrimination and rejection by families, friends and societies in general will be relegated to the genre of historical fiction.

Thanks Pender for letting me blog with you today. 

Oh, and for those who don’t know me that well – by the time I got to the tills some fifteen minutes later, yep, the Cadbury’s Dairy Milk Chocolate Bar was in my basket… of course!

Thanks L.M. for a thought-provoking blog. It's sad but true that even in the twenty-first century, same sex couples often feel the need for caution when displaying affection in public. 

You can visit L.M. Brown's blog at: or website at:

Don't forget tomorrow is the kick off for the Silver Flashers Blog Contest. Details will be posted with tomorrow's flash fiction. You could win some great prizes. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Silver Flash Fiction

Hi everyone. This is a two-in-one post.

I'm on Silver Publishing's website later today and posting a new chapter of Silver's on-going blog story "Out of the Dark".  Normally I write contemporary romance but I had a lot of fun writing about vampires and dungeons. Maybe a little too much fun. I might have got a bit carried away.  If you want to know what happens to Ethan, Angelo and Alexei head over to Silver's Blog and click on "blog story" in the sidebar.
Hope to see you there.

And now the final installment of Every Man's Fantasy. Last week we left off with Rob and Sam in the kitchen. Rob had just said, “Oh, Sammy, ... That will come back to haunt you.” 

This week's prompt was a choice of  "What's that noise?" or 
"Um . . .  why don't you try taking the wrapper off first?" Read on to find out which one I used. 

Every Man's Fantasy 
Part Four
Copyright © 2011
“Really?” I’m trying to sound sexy but I just sound hopeful.

The hand under my t-shirt strokes up over my ribs: Rob's thumb is circling my nipple; light touches that make my skin tingle and the nub harden. He’s staring into my eyes as if he’s checking for something. I stare back. Whatever he finds there satisfies him because he tugs, bringing me in for another kiss. I’m moan into his mouth and press so hard against him that he steps back for balance before thrusting back. Eventually we come up for air. His lips are red and swollen-looking. I’m sure mine are too. My legs feel weird so lean against the counter.

“Maybe the kitchen isn’t the best place to make out,” I say.

“I don’t want to make out.”

“You don’t?” I sound confused but not nearly as disappointed as I feel. 

Rob slips his fingers through a belt loop on each side of my jeans. He pulls me closer and I go willingly. “Are you sure about your rule?”

“Rule?” I’m so hard I can barely think. I’m trying to figure out what he means so we can stop talking and get back to kissing. He’s hard too so I’m pretty sure he still wants to kiss even if he doesn’t want to do more. “Did you park in the fire lane? You’ll have to move your car.”

He laughs. “Very funny, Sam.” He rubs his erection against mine and I groan. “You said you don’t fuck on the first date. Of course, you could count the coffee shop as our first date. I hung out with you almost all the time I was there.”

“It's not written in stone,” I say. I’m glad he thinks I was trying to be funny. He’s still undulating against me. I’m panting and gripping his forearms, probably hard enough to hurt. I try to relax my hold.

“You want to show me your bedroom?”

I can barely answer. I’m not even sure how we get there but he pushes me onto the bed and climbs on after me. Then he’s kissing me again, pausing only long enough to pull off my t-shirt and yank off his own. I’m kissing back, trying to worm my way out of my jeans and get him out of his at the same time. There’s some frantic contortions then we’re both naked and he’s touching me. I arch up into his fist. It feels fantastic but I’m too close.

“Rob, wait. Wait.”

He backs off and sits on his heels, checking me out. “Shit. You’re even hotter than I thought you’d be. Do you top?”

“You don’t want me to bottom?” I can’t believe he’s asking. In his movies he was very assertive in bed, even as a bottom. I didn’t think he’d bottom for someone less dominant. Right now I’m not dominant or even assertive. I'm just ... desperate.

“Yeah. I do, but later, okay? You’ve got supplies?”

Later? Oh my God, I can’t believe this. I’ve never been with someone so sure of himself; so sure of what he wants.

I nod and get off the bed. I don’t have a nightstand so I keep my stuff in my dresser. When I turn around he’s on his back, legs splayed, one knee bent, foot flat on the bed. I almost drop the stuff. 

He looked amazing in the video but he’s so much better in real life. Thank God I bought some new lube. I’d die of embarrassment if I had to pull out my mangled tube of no-name lube. My performance anxiety is back. He must be able to tell because his expression softens.

“Come here, Sam.”

I get back onto the bed, still clutching the supplies.

“It’s not a movie. It’s just you and me, okay?”

I nod again. He pulls me down beside him.

“It’s hard work fucking in front of other people, making sure you don’t block the camera; switching positions every couple of minutes and remembering to pull out for the money shot.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that. His hands are moving over me, he’s kissing my skin in between words and I’m getting into it again.

“I like you, Sam. You’re hot and sweet and I want you to fuck me. This isn’t for anyone else’s pleasure. It’s for yours and mine; because we want each other.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I’m a lot calmer now, and very excited. I fumble with my fancy new lube. It’s in some kind of canister and I can’t get any out.

"Um . . . why don't you try taking the wrapper off first? It’s got a safety seal." 

“Huh?” I squint at the flip top. Damn.

Rob’s biting his lip.

“I know. You’re not laughing at me, you’re laughing with me,” I grumble.

“That’s right I—“

I put the lube to good use and he shuts up. After that everything goes amazingly well. Rob’s not greedy. He gives as much pleasure as he receives, maybe more. 

It’s better than the videos because he’s moaning my name; telling me how good I make him feel. He makes me feel good too, more than once and in a couple of positions I’ve never tried before.

I’m still replaying some of the things we did long after he’s fallen asleep with his face mashed against my back. I shift around, trying to get comfortable without waking him.

“Stop wiggling, Sam.”


“It’s fine.” He slides a leg between mine. “Unless you want to grab another condom.”

“Um …”

“It’s okay. I’m worn out too. Tomorrow I’ll take you for dinner first, okay? Steak; for energy.”

He’s asleep again before I can answer. I lay awake for a bit longer. I may not be dating a porn star, but he’s got the stamina of one.

He’s different than I imagined: Maybe he’s not every man’s fantasy, but he sure as hell is mine and I think, maybe, I’m might be his too.     


Check out the other Silver Authors flashing this week. Hope to see you over on Silver's Blog later today.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Scent of Attraction Released Today


Hi everyone. Scent of Attraction is out today and I'm over at Silver Publishing's Facebook page to chat. Stop by if you have a chance. I'll be posting some info about Shawn and Graham from Scent of Attraction. Later on I'll let you know how you can win a free copy.!/silverpublishing

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Silver Flash Fiction

It's Wednesday again. Time for another flash fiction and Part Three of Every Man's Fantasy, featuring Rob and Sam. The prompt this week was, "That will come back to haunt you."

And by the way, if you like my flash fiction pieces, my book, Scent of Attraction, comes out on Saturday April 9th. If you're interested, click on the book cover on the left sidebar for the buy link.

Every Man's Fantasy 
Part Three
Copyright ©2011

I push my plate away and sigh contentedly. My coffee table is littered with empty cartons, stray noodles and dirty plates. Two guys in their twenties can put away a lot of food.

I look over at Rob. He’s almost finished eating and is leaning back on the couch. He’s a lot more relaxed now, but it’s probably more to do with the beers and all the MSG than our little heart to heart chat.

I wriggle around to get comfortable and close my eyes. We didn’t say much once the food came: We were too busy eating, but before that, while we were waiting for delivery, we traded info. We actually do have some things in common.

Rob listens to some of the same bands as me and we both like horror movies, the cheesier the better. He works in a trendy, independent video store and he’s into classic cars. He’s fixing up some old BMW — a 2002ti — whatever that means. He got pretty excited when he was telling me about it. I got a little excited too, but luckily he didn’t notice.


“Hmm?” I open my eyes lazily. Rob’s moved closer. My heart picks up speed and I’m much more awake. 

“Don’t you want your fortune cookie?” He’s holding the cookies in his outstretched hand.

“Oh. Yeah.”

I grab one at random and pop it out of the plastic wrapper, then break it in half. I pull out the slip of paper, read the fortune, and snicker.

“All right! What’s yours say, Rob?” I look up. He’s got a funny look on his face. “Rob?”

“It’s kind of weird.” He reads it out. “Hard words break no bones, fine words butter no parsnips. What do you think that means?”

I think about it and shrug. “Beats me. It doesn’t make much sense, but it’s probably something that got lost in translation.” I’m more interested in my fortune. I’m dying for him to ask me what my fortune was.

“What’s yours say?”

“A thrilling time is in your immediate future.”

“That makes more sense than mine.”

“Ah, but it’s much better than that.” I grin. “My family always adds the words ‘in bed’ to the end of every fortune.”

I watch his face as he runs my fortune through his head and adds the phrase.

“I think I got the better fortune,” I say.

He’s laughing. “That’s because I let you pick, Sam. That fortune should have been mine.”

I’m laughing too. “I’m willing to share.”

He stops laughing and we look at each other. I’m trying my hardest not to jump him. He’s close enough to see his freckles and honey-gold lashes. He’s so very, very sexy. 

His gaze never wavers as he leans in, closing his eyes at the last minute. I’m worrying if my lips are sticky and doing my best deer-in-the-headlights impersonation. That is, right up until his lips touch mine and he sucks gently on my bottom lip. He releases my lip and I surge forward, licking into his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders. He makes a surprised-sounding noise, then kisses me back just as eagerly.

Some guys don’t like kissing but Rob does and he’s good at it. Actually, he’s great at it. From what I saw in his movies, he’s great at pretty much anything to do with sex.

He pulls back, flushed and a little breathless. “Wow. Sam.”

I jump up and grab the dirty plates. “Better get this place cleaned up.”

I’m speed-loading the dishwasher when he comes into kitchen a minute later. He’s silent as he shoves the empty containers in the trash and washes his hands. Is he angry? Maybe even hurt? I don’t want him to think I’m not interested, that I’m rejecting him, but I’m freaking out a little. I’ve developed a sudden case of performance anxiety. 

I wipe down the already-clean counter. I need to go wipe off the coffee table. “So what do you want to do now? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow. “Not one of yours. I mean, we could watch a horror movie or something. Or watch TV. Whatever you want.” Shit, I’m screwing up, big time.

“I think you suggested something else earlier.”

“Right, well I don’t want to pressure you—”

He interrupts me. “There’s no pressure. You said so.”

“Yeah, I did.” I’m trying to calm down. He must be confused as hell. A minute ago we were enthusiastically swapping spit and now I’m suggesting we watch TV. If I were him, I’d be thinking WTF?

He’s looking at me as if he’s trying to figure it out.  

I talk a good game, but he’s more experienced, probably way more experienced. I’m not trying to be a prick. I don’t care that he’s done a couple of movies but he’s been with pros. I’m not sure I can measure up. I don’t have any special skills and I want him so much I’m in danger of blowing my load the minute he touches me. Pretty lame huh?

His expression clears. He's smiling faintly. “It’s okay. It’s like you said. There’s no pressure.” He gives me a look from under his lashes. “So what do you do, Sam?”

My heart is careening crazily around in my chest, using my ribs like the bumper pads on one of those old pinball machines. I swallow loud enough for him to hear. “Anything. Everything.”

He smiles a slow smile and moves closer. “Anything?”

“Yeah.” My voice gives out so I nod. I’ll take whatever he’s offering. I want him and he knows it. The balance has shifted. Now he’s the one that’s surefooted and I’m floundering.

He reaches up and places one hand at the back of my neck. The touch goes straight to my dick and I bite back a moan.

His other hand moves to my waist, slipping inside my t-shirt. “Oh, Sammy,” he says smiling. “That will come back to haunt you.”

 To be continued.

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