Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Silver Flash - Skinny Jeans


Time for another flash fiction. One again we had two prompts to choose from:

"So what exactly is going on here?" or  "Are you ever satisfied?" Read on to find out which prompt I chose.



Skinny Jeans
Copyright © 2011

“Come on, Steve, I need your help.”

“I hate shopping.”

“I do too. That’s why I need you to be there.” Jon gave him a pleading look.

Steve sighed. He could think of better things to do on a Friday night. “Fine.”

Jon beamed at him then looked down and cursed. “Where the hell is my other shoe?”

Steve watched as he got down to look under the couch.

“Aha!” Jon had to go down on his elbows and stretch out one arm. His ass stuck up in the air. Steve took a good long look and changed his mind. If Jon wanted his help to shop for new jeans, who was he to argue? 

Once they hit the mall Steve regretted his decision. Most of the stores were blaring music, trying to complete with the neighboring stores. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d been playing the same style but country clashed with rock, which clashed with electronic.

Teenagers clustered around the movie theater entrance, talking and swearing loudly. Steve mourned his quiet Friday night watching TV and cuddling with Jon. “Are you sure you have to do this tonight?” he asked.

Jon grabbed his arm and dragged him into the Levi’s store. “Look.” He held his shirt out of the way and turned slowly. “These are the best jeans I’ve got and they’re almost threadbare.”

“Okay, okay.”

A sales woman approached, her too-wide smile fixed permanently on her heavily made-up face. “Can I help you?”

Jon smiled back. “Yes please. I need some new jeans.”

“What style did you have in mind?”

Steve stood silent as Jon stared at the floor to ceiling wall of neatly folded jeans. He frowned and shifted his weight. “I usually get 501’s or 505’s but I wouldn’t mind trying something new.”

Steve grit his teeth as the saleswoman gave his boyfriend a thorough visual inspection.

“You’d look great in skinnys.”

Jon beamed. “I would? Don’t you think I’m too old?”

“Not at all. You have a very youthful look. Lots of men in their twenties are wearing them.” She eyed Steve. “Of course not everyone can pull it off. Some men are too...muscular.”

Jon bounced on his toes. “I’d like to try them,” he checked her nametag and smiled, “Jennifer.”

Jennifer pursed her lips and tilted her head as she examined Jon. “I’m guessing a size twenty-eight?”

Steve grumbled under his breath. Jon was actually blushing. “I’m more of a size thirty.” 

“Skinnys are supposed to be worn tight. Why don’t I find you some in a couple of sizes?”

“Well…okay.”

“What length do you prefer?”

Jon stared at her goggle-eyed. “Huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She wants to know your inseam.”

“Oh. Thirty-two.” Jon’s face was scarlet.

The saleswoman started pulling pairs of folded jeans from the shelves. “We have medium and dark colored denim in those sizes. You should try them both. I think we have black and red too.”

The stack in her arms grew larger. Jon gave Steve a ‘help-me’ look.

“I’m going to look at shirts.” Steve strode off.

A few minutes later he made his way over to the fitting rooms. “Jon?”

“In here.”

“Where?”

“In here. Come here, quick.” Jon unlocked the cubicle’s door and stuck his head out. He grabbed Steve and yanked him into the cubicle, shutting the door behind him.

“Whoa! You look…” Steve bit his lip.

“Fucking stupid! I know.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck.

“No.” Steve stared at Jon, checking out his ass in the three-way mirror. “You look sexy as hell.”

Jon’s head shot up. “I do?”

“Hell, yeah.” Steve moved closer.

Jon backed up. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea. I’m having problems.”

“It’s a great idea.” Steve kissed him long and hard as Jon responded enthusiastically.

They broke for breath and Steve grinned. “I can see your problem.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“No?” Steve watched his hands in the mirror as they kneaded Jon’s firm, round ass.

“The zipper’s stuck. Seriously. I can’t get them off.”

Steve reluctantly let go. “Let me try.” He grabbed the zipper but it wouldn’t budge.

“Hold on.” He held Jon in place with one hand and wiggled the zipper pull with the other.

“God.” Jon put his hands on Steve’s shoulders for balance. “These jeans are way too tight for a hard-on.”

“Excuse me, Jon? How are you making out?”

Steve and Jon froze and stared at each other.

“Jon?” The saleswoman knocked on the door, which swung open under her hand.

Steve saw how it must look to the saleswoman. “We’re not making out,” he growled.

The saleswoman put her hands on her hips. "Right.” She sounded skeptical. “So what exactly is going on here?”

Jon dropped his arms and backed up. “The zipper’s stuck.”

“Are you sure? Do you need some help?”

“No!” Steve and Jon said in unison.

The saleswoman blushed. “No, of course not. Sorry.”

She stood in the doorway. “They do look very nice on you. Perhaps another pair—”

Steve stepped in front of Jon, shielding him. “Go and get him some 501’s and some 505’s in a size thirty. I’ll get him out of these jeans.”

The saleswoman stood, hesitating.

Steve stared her down.

She turned and fled.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Jon bit his lip.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s not your fault.” He wrenched the zipper down. “Your boxers were caught. You can’t wear boxers with jeans this tight.”

“I guess not.” Jon’s shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to try something new, you know?”

“I know. Listen, why don’t you get two pairs of jeans? Get the kind you normally wear and a pair of the skinnys too. Maybe a size up.”

Jon perked up. “You like them?”

“I like you in them.” Steve kissed Jon and nibbled on his lip. “When we get home you can model them for me and then,” he grinned, “I’ll help you out of them again.”

The end
   
Author Note

Jon and Steve appeared in another flash fiction called Cops and Rubbers. If you’d like to read it, here’s the link. Cops and Rubbers

If you liked this flash leave a comment. Don’t forget to check the rest of this week’s Silver Flashers. Click on the links below.

Julie Hayes (m/m)

Lindsay Klug (m/f)

Ryssa Edwards (m/m)


Sunday, June 26, 2011

Special Guest, Lee Brazil


I have a special guest today. Lee Brazil’s here and he’s interviewing Mischa from Keeping House. Welcome Lee and Mischa.


Sit Down With Mischa Blake


Hey, readers!  We're here today with Mischa Blake from the recently released Keeping House.  If you haven't read it already you can find it here or here.  He's going to tell us the inside scoop on how his brother Terry managed to land Dex and Trick. 



Some might say that you played matchmaker in this story.  Is that true?

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.  They did meet at my house, I think everyone knows that.  The first time I remember noticing anything in particular between them was at the barbeque we held right before we went to pick up Matthew.  But if you want to accuse anyone of matchmaking, I think it should be our brother Dan.

But, you encouraged them to get together?

Again, I wouldn’t say that.  I invited them to my home at the same time frequently.  I would say I gave them the opportunity to be together.  I thought for sure that Terry was going to fuck it up, too.  Damn it!  You made me cuss.  Twice.  Now I owe fifty cents to the cuss jar.

Uhhuh.  Cuss jar?

Oh please.  Like you don’t’ know what one is?  Donovan and I cuss, a lot.  Well Matthew repeated the words he heard at school, and we had a lovely family conference.  So now, whenever anyone cusses, they have to put a quarter in the cuss jar.

Okay.  So, you gave them the chance to meet at your house.  What about sending Terry off to that particular club?  You don’t think that was pushing things, just a little into the matchmaking realm?

Oh, by then I was doing everyone a favor!  Honestly.  Terry was getting impossible to be around.  He was edgy, grouchy, morose and frantic in rapid turnaround.  I’ve never seen him like that in my life before.  You have to understand, Terry is the most prosaic of guys.  Or at least he was.  He never got excited, never got angry, never went to any extremes.

Were you worried about setting him up with your friends?  Knowing the situation they were in?

Not worried about him.  I knew it would be the best thing for Terry.  He showed more interest in Dex and Trick than he ever showed in any of the women he dated over the years.  I worried about them, yeah.  They’re…fragile.  I guess.  I didn’t want them to be hurt. And I really can’t go into any more of this right, now.  Matthew has soccer practice and it's our turn to provide the treats.



Telling the Truth

Terry Blake loses a hand of cards to his brother Mischa. Payment is Truth, and Terry's honor forces the admission of a deeply held secret.

Terry has lived his life according to the guidelines...studying accounting, getting an MBA and working for the family business. And while handling the family and business finances has its own rewards, Terry has been missing some of the excitement he sees his less inhibited brothers, Mischa and Dan, enjoying.

A losing hand of cards on a Wednesday night gives Terry’s youngest brother the chance he’s been waiting for.   Terry can handle any dare his brother dishes out, but Mischa’s demand for Truth is a different matter.

Terry has a lot of truths he’s hiding - chief among them that he, like his youngest brother, is gay. Unable to hide behind his pristine reputation and fancy business suit, Terry's honor demands he divulge secrets he’s been ashamed to admit even to himself in the privacy of his own bedroom.

The Hyatt twins, Dex and Trick, have finally found acceptance for their relationship in the homes of their friends Bella and Mischa. They would never do anything to upset their new friends, and fooling around with Mischa’s prissy, domineering, oh-so-sexy older brother is completely unacceptable. A one night stand might be ok, and the boys happily indulge, but then close ranks afterward, pushing Terry aside.

Terry isn’t going to take no for an answer. He’s convinced that Dex and Trick are meant to be his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make them realize all the safety and protection they might need can be found in his arms.


Available from:  https://www.breathlesspress.com/, Amazon and All Romance eBooks

Wow, Lee. Telling the Truth sounds great. I'm sure I'll enjoy it as much as Keeping House.

Thanks to Lee and Mischa for stopping by.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Special Guest Blogger Catriana Sommers

Today I have Catriana Sommers on my blog. To celebrate her new release, Catriana's visiting a few blogs today and she's having a giveaway. Those that leave a comment will be entered to win a free e-book copy of Destined.


And the Series Just Keeps Growing...

Initially, The Arcanus Series started with 3 books. Then grew to five. With the addition of certain characters, the series jumped up to seven books. In my head, I thought this was perfect, the series would end and all is right with the world.
Then, Ci'hame was born.
In my series, there are four 'demon' - I use the term 'demon' loosely here - Kings, each representing a cardinal point. The Northern King is the oldest, and yet he had no children. I'm not revealing too much to say he does eventually have a child, and her name is Ci'hame.
With her birth, the series went from seven to nine books, with the potential for more. So how does something like this happen? Well, to tell you in this particular case would be too spoiler-ish, but as an author, I can tell you my series grows due to the characters and how involved I end up becoming with them.
Everyone has their methods of expanding their series, how all depends on the focus. For me, I tend to focus heavily on my characters' development, making my flaws lack of environmental description(thank goodness for friends and editors). I conjure up a background for them, motivations and how they could impact the series. Since everyone can't be a main character, most of the people I create are side or secondary characters. Sometimes, however, one stands out more than the others.
In the case of Ci'hame, she popped up into my head and all but demanded I give her the attention she is due as daughter of the Northern King. So now she will have her own adventure, albeit much later in the series.
Hopefully, the series will remain at 9 books, but who knows? Maybe another smaller adventure will emerge. Either way, I do have a few short stories lined up, so The Arcanus Series, isn't going to be ending anytime soon.


Destined is available through Silver Publishing
Blurb: Raised together, Sarnaiel and Naliel are as close as brothers could be, until the dark elf Sarnaiel decides he wants them to be something more. Only after he reveals his intentions does he learn of an arranged marriage that stands between them and their happiness. Unable to stand the idea of the one he loves with another, he vanishes, leaving Naliel alone...or so he thought.

But someone has been watching the young half elf from the shadows, and without Sarnaiel's presence he makes his move in the most brutal of ways. Naliel survives, but his mind and body are broken. Sarnaiel returns to pick up the pieces, mending and nurturing and rebuilding their bond, but once again their relationship is thwarted by the birth of Naliel's bride.

Once the source of his greatest joy, Sarnaiel becomes Naliel's torment. For Sarnaiel, when hurt, strikes back twice as hard and viciously. It doesn’t matter who it is. He almost goes too far and through that, finally learns what should be truly important to him. The oath they make that day is what seals their already unbreakable bond, and the two grow older, and wiser, together. For no matter what happens, no matter what they face, even if it's their own kin, they live by their promise:

"It was us from the beginning, and it'll be us until the end."

Excerpt: The angle of light filtering through the leaves overhead indicated midafternoon by the time they found their prey, a lone male hubrion. Due to the beast's extreme temperamental and territorial nature, these large creatures were normally a hunter's last-resort game. There were typically only two reasons why one would wish to hunt such an animal--desperate starvation, or having something to prove.
Two young elven males, Sarnaiel and Naliel Liunos, happened to be in the latter category. Perched high in the trees, they looked down as the creature grazed the branches to their right. What had started out as a simple conversation amongst peers had turned into a daring bet against the two social outcasts. Pride and egos at stake, the two naturally accepted. Their peers were currently a good distance away, quietly observing in the dense forest.
Naliel frowned thoughtfully, brushing aside his long midnight hair. He reached behind for his bow as the hubrion turned, presenting the perfect angle to hit the vital spot just beneath its jaw.
Something flashed just outside the corner of his eye, distracting him. Naliel turned to his childhood friend, whose fingers moved rapidly in silent communication.
Jumping in one minute. Naliel nodded right as Sarnaiel melted into the shadows of the forest, leaving nothing but a small stream of black smoke in his wake.
Naliel counted the seconds, readied an arrow, and took aim. Enchanted clothing and natural elven abilities kept him from making a single sound and alerting their prey. The creature had yet to change its angle, continuing to chew on fresh leaves, oblivious to its upcoming demise.
At fifty-nine seconds, Naliel shot the first arrow and struck the target dead on. A blood-curdling roar erupted from the beast and three more arrows struck deep, seconds apart. The hubrion swayed, disoriented.
Once the fourth arrow hit, Sarnaiel seemed to emerge out of thin air, flying down through the shadows, wisps of dark smoke trailing from his clothes. He latched onto the creature's long and slender head, gloved fingers digging into rough hide. Before their prey could even contemplate trying to shake this newest annoyance off, two swords appeared in the elf's hands, slicing open the creature's throat. The hubrion flung its head, and Sarnaiel let go, fading back into the shadows.
The beast thrashed weakly, choked attempts at a roar coming from its mangled throat as it drowned in its own blood. Bloodshot orbs rolled to the back of its head as the body fell sideways, dead the moment it hit the ground.
Silence reigned in the forest as Naliel jumped from the perch and made his way towards the creature. Sarnaiel emerged a moment later, a triumphant grin on his handsome face. Turning to the woods, the dark-skinned elf shook blood from his blades before sheathing them. "All right you bastards, pay up!"
Slowly, the rest of the elves came out of hiding, annoyed expressions on most of their faces. However, even they were unable to hide the awe and grudging admiration in their gazes. Two of the golden haired females, Niona and Ralina, glanced at the hunters, impressed and intrigued. They were the only ones to have smiles on their lightly painted lips despite the fact they were out quite a bit of kon.
A blond-haired male, taller and unusually bulky for his race, approached the victors, fixing Sarnaiel with a hard glare. "So you succeeded," Mironel Liunos said.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Sarnaiel raised a pale eyebrow, smirking smugly. "I dare you to claim we cheat now. As you can see, the two of us are better than all of you combined and I assure you, it's all natural skill."

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Silver Flash

This week we had a choice of two prompts. "The ticket felt hot in his [her] hand. How the hell had he [she] managed this. It was like a dream come true..." or "The difference is that I lie for a reason."

Since the only ticket I could think of was a traffic ticket I went with the second prompt. Of course now I can think of all kinds of tickets and scenarios.

No More Lies 
Copyright ©2011 


 Tyler lounged on the steps and enjoyed the warm spring air. He watched Megan as she sat on a bench. She was very pretty — if you liked girls. Tyler didn’t and he really didn’t like this one, but he waited.

A few minutes later Jordan walked across the quad. Megan saw him. She smiled and called out a greeting.

Tyler sipped his coffee and watched Jordan as Megan stood on her toes and kissed him hello. They’d been dating for two weeks. If Jordan were true to form he’d be getting ready to move on.

Jordan glanced around and saw Tyler. He bent his head and spoke to Megan, too softly for Tyler to hear him.

Megan stiffened and pulled away. Jordan continued to speak.

“Fuck you, Jordan.” Megan walked off, her head held high.  

Tyler hid his smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. Jordan came over and flopped down beside him on the steps. He grabbed Tyler’s coffee and drank.

“That went well.”

“Fuck off, Tyler.”

Tyler grinned then sobered. “Why do you keep dating girls? You always dump them after a couple of weeks.”

He watched Jordan run his fingers through his soft-looking  hair. Copper strands gleamed in the sun.

Jordan’s green eyes met his then slid away. “I’m trying to be happy.”

“You’re not going to be happy with a girl.”

“You don’t know that.” Jordan sounded weary.

“After that little experiment you had with my roommate, I think I do.”

Jordan flushed. “It was just once. I wanted to…”

“Wanted to what? See if you liked another man’s tongue in your mouth? His hand down your pants?” Tyler tried not to sound bitter but he couldn’t forget walking into his dorm room to see Jordan and Pete tangled together in a make-out session. “I saw how much you were enjoying Pete’s attention. If you still think you’re into girls you’re lying to yourself and them.”

Jordan turned to face him. “It’s not easy for me. People have certain expectations.”

Tyler knew Jordan was talking about his family. “It isn’t easy for anyone, but it’s harder for some.” He gave Jordan a sympathetic pat on the knee. “I’m not saying you have to come out right here, right now. I’m just saying if you really want to be happy you should be honest, at least with yourself. Admit that you’re into guys and find someone you want to be with for more than a week.”

Jordan shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not ready.”

Tyler retrieved and finished his coffee. “It’s okay to need some time. Just don’t waste your whole life pretending to be someone you’re not.”

Jordan stared at him but didn’t answer. He got to his feet and started walking.

Tyler struggled into his backpack and caught up. “At least stop stringing the girls along. It’s not fair to them.”

“You lie too.”

Tyler shrugged. “Everyone knows I’m gay.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about being out. Pete says you keep telling him you can’t fool around because you’re in a relationship. That’s bullshit. You’re not in a relationship. You’re just like me. Lying to someone who likes you.”

Tyler felt his face flame. “Pete doesn’t like me. He just wants sex. Anyway, it’s not the same.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” Jordan’s calm was infuriating.

They were at the dorms now. Jordan opened the door to his room and paused. “Explain it to me then. Because it sure as hell looks the same to me.”

Tyler followed him into the room and slammed the door behind them. “The difference is that I lie for a reason!"

“Is that so.” Jordan dropped his bag and stood with his arms folded. “What’s the reason then?”

“What?” Tyler’s anger evaporated as suddenly as it came.

“What’s your reason for lying to Pete?”

Tyler licked his lips. “I don’t want to fool around with him.”

“That’s obvious.”

Tyler pressed his lips together and stayed silent.

“Why not Pete? He’s—”

Tyler cut him off. “I like someone, but he isn’t interested in me. Okay? You satisfied?”

“How do you know he’s not interested?”

“I just know.”

“Have you let him know how you feel?”

“No.” He wished he’d never started this conversation.

“Tyler.”

Jordan moved closer and Tyler took a step back. His backpack bumped the door and he bounced forward, right into Jordan’s arms.

Jordan held Tyler by his shoulders. “Tyler, look at me.”

He raised his head and stared into green eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Jordan had bright patches of color on his cheeks and Tyler could feel him shaking, but he didn’t let go. He held Tyler’s gaze and spoke deliberately. “You were right. I like men. One man in particular.”

“I should go.” Tyler’s voice was almost a whisper.

He stared straight ahead at the neck of Jordan’s t-shirt. If Jordan started dating his roommate he’d have to switch rooms.

“No way. You said I should stop denying who I am so now you have to listen.”

Jordan eased Tyler’s backpack off and let it fall to the floor. 

“Tell me the truth, Tyler. Do you like me the way I like you?”

Tyler’s head shot up. “What?”

“I don’t need to find a guy I want to be with. I’ve already found him.”

“But you made-out with Pete.”

Jordan pressed closer. “I wanted it to be you, but back then I didn’t know how you felt about me.” He brushed Tyler’s hair out of his face. “I need to hear it from you, Tyler. Who do you like?”

Tyler couldn’t look away.

Jordan cupped Tyler’s face and touched their foreheads together. “Please. Say it’s me.”

“You. It’s always been you.” Tyler kissed him. He grabbed at Jordan as if he was drowning.

Minutes later Tyler asked, “I never told anyone. How did you know?”

“Pete says you talk in your sleep. Especially when you’re…dreaming.”

“Oh.” Tyler flushed.

Jordan took his hand and tugged him over to sit on the bed. “No more lies. Not to ourselves or each other. Okay?”

Tyler nodded.

Jordan pushed him onto his back and kissed him thoroughly before pulling back to smile at him. “I think I’m going to like being honest with you.”

The end.

This week's Silver Flashers are: 
Lindsay Klug (m/f)



Victoria Blisse (m/f)
http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

RyssaEdwards (m/m) 
http://ryssaedwards.blogspot.com/

Monday, June 20, 2011

Guest Blogger Berengaria Brown

Today's special guest blogger is author, Berengaria Brown. Welcome.




My name is Berengaria and I’m addicted to reading.

My father taught me to read when I was very young, and would never permit anyone to place boundaries on what I read. He always said if I understood what I was reading, there was no sense in preventing me from reading it, and if I didn’t understand it, there was no need to stop me reading it, since I wouldn’t understand it!
Consequently, I read a lot of books children my age had no idea even existed.
He even let me use his library card so I could take books out from the adult shelves at the library. Actually, by then I’d read all the children’s books anyway.
And since I read MM, FF, ménages and everything from sweet to extremely kinky, it’s not surprising that I write across all the genres too. But I do have a special love of MM. Who could resist a couple of yummy werewolves?

“Were the Hell?” 

Blurb:
Septimus, is sent to a pack across the country to see if they have a solution to why almost no females have been born into his pack in over 30 years.
As soon as he walks into the meeting room he smells his mate. The lust between them is instant and fierce. By day they try to solve the problem of the gender imbalance, by night they fuck each other's brains out.
Septimus finally gets a lead as to why there may be no females born in his pack. An old man, Arthur, remembers a wizard threatening to curse his pack. Septimus and Arthur speak to a very old woman, Richenda who gives them some trails to follow.
Septimus’ duty is to help his pack. But he’d much rather be in bed with Dai. And is the situation even solvable anyway?

Excerpt PG 13
Septimus had sometimes wondered if he'd only ever been sexually attracted to other males because there were so few younger females in his pack, and the few there were didn't light his fire. But the minute he walked into the meeting room with the weres from the Forest Hill pack, he knew he was genuinely, one hundred percent gay. He could smell his mate.
His cock stood up and fought to get out of his jeans, stretching the fabric so tight that he was going to have blue balls for a week. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck were also standing straight up. His skin tingled, electrified with sexual arousal. And the scent of his mate was overpowering him, dragging him into the room with almost physical force.
His nose led him unerringly to his mate: a tall, lean man of about thirty, with tanned brown skin, dark brown hair, and liquid chocolate eyes. Those eyes were staring at him, the man's strong nose was flared smelling his scent and from the huge bulge in his pale cargo pants, the man was every bit as aware of him as he was of Mr. Tall, Tan, and Delectable.
As Septimus walked across the room, his cock leading the way, the man moved to meet him. Their gazes were locked, and Septimus was totally oblivious to everyone else in the room and the task he'd been sent to do. He was about to put out his hand when the other man reached him and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in for a hard, body-blending hug.
"I'm Dai. We're mates." The words were harsh, bitten off, said almost as a challenge.
"Septimus. I know."
The Alpha of the Forest Hill pack stood just a few feet away. He coughed, cleared his throat, then said, "Gentlemen, let's get this meeting underway. Dai, you should sit next to Septimus, not in your usual place."
So even the Alpha smelled their attraction. That certainly proved he was not being misled by his cock. Damn! His dick had never been this big before. If only he could undo his jeans and give it some room before it broke his zipper.

Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=78_91&products_id=3165

Berengaria Brown
http://berengariabrown.webs.com/

Berengaria has over 30 published erotic romance books: MM, FF, ménages, and even two MF stories. Something for every taste!

Thanks for visiting, Berengaria.




Monday, June 13, 2011

Special Guests Xavier Axelson and his muse

Today I have Xavier Axelson on my blog and he brought someone with him.

This is your MUSE calling
I’m not going to write as Xavier today, in fact this isn’t Xavier at all.  It’s HIS muse.  Nice to meet you, you should know I bite…hard.  Xavier wants me to let you know that I also don’t play fair or nice.  That’s exactly what he likes most about me.  The luxury of being a muse is exactly this, we don’t HAVE to do or be ANYTHING.  That’s YOUR job writers, artists, painters, sculptors, etc.  You have made contact with us; we have not made contact with you.  Let me give you some pointers; I should say that I have passed these kind words of wisdom onto Xavier and for the most part he abides by my rules, when he doesn’t he gets slapped hard, usually across his occasionally good looking face.
Be kind to your muse; nurture her/him and for fuck sake don’t rape us.  Let us regrow once you have plucked a fruit from the idea tree.  If you don’t let us recharge, regroup and reconnect it won’t be us who is up at 3:00am trying, begging and crying for the next idea to fall into our laps.  We have the ideas.  Well I do, I can’t speak for any other muse, as we are all different, not unlike Cabbage Patch Kids.
 Might I suggest a notebook?  Xavier adopted this idea many moons ago and has just recently realized the power of being able to pull one of said notebooks off his over stocked bookshelves and being able to utilize any number of written pages to use for inspiration, blogs, articles, and let me just say, something you wrote ten years ago may just save your overcommitted ass.  Don’t believe me?  Just ask Xavier, who does, most certainly have the uncanny act for over committing.  A quality he shares with Anne Shirley of the fabled Green Gables.  Don’t ask.
 You may also find physical activity a tonic to ease an overworked muse.  Physical exertion often clears the mind and like Zeus’s lightning bolt, it can electrify exhausted neurons/electrons and protons, not to mention grey matter.  Try it and see.  I like giving Xavier little bits of pieces of inspiration while he sweats; it keeps him on his toes.  Xavier also finds an occasional (weekly) visits to a spa also soothes a frazzled Muse.
 If none of this works, which it may absolutely NOT, might I suggest a good healthy sexual romp, of whatever flavor you so choose.  There are after all so many other flavors besides Vanilla.  Just ask Xavier.
 I will turn this over to Mr. X now; he has some promo stuff to get off his chest. So I will let him.
Hey everyone I’ve got a new novella called “The Incident” coming this summer to Seventh Window Publications, be sure and check it out! Feel free to drop by my website and sex advice column over at examiner.com

Thanks Xavier (and your muse too). That's some good advice. I've learned the hard way that a notebook works way better than jotting things down on scraps of paper. I no longer have to turn my house upside down looking for paper napkins and post-it notes. Maybe I'll try the spa idea too. :)

Thanks to both of you for stopping by.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Silver Flash

Here's the last installment of I'd Do It For You. I've got to warn you, it got pretty romantic. :)

We had several prompts to choose from this week but the one that worked for me was:
"You have ten seconds..."
I took the ellipsis to mean we could add whatever we wanted to complete the sentence.

When we left off last week Eric had fallen asleep (literally) on his date.
The last two sentences of Part IV were:


“But I should be awake. We should be kissing while you’re holding me.”

Nikolai smiled and tilted Eric’s chin. “If that is what you wish.”

Hope you enjoy this weeks flash. 



I'd Do It For You
Part V
Copyright © 2011

Eric blinked. “Oh. I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, his face filling with heat. The other man must think he was an idiot.

Nikolai was still cupping his chin. His thumb caressed Eric’s lower lip.

“May I kiss you, Eric?”

Eric swallowed. “If you want to.”

Nikolai held his gaze, his blue eyes reminding Eric of a cloudless sky on a summer day. He moved his palm slowly over Eric’s skin, caressing his jaw, the nape of his neck.

“I have wanted to kiss you for weeks. Since the first time I saw you.”

Nikolai’s gaze drew him in and Eric felt himself lean forward.

Their lips brushed. Eric felt the rasp of stubble against his skin, warm lips on his own; gentle pressure. It felt so good. There was nothing else like kissing. Nothing so intimate.

He moaned softly as Nikolai licked at his mouth, slipping inside, stroking, tasting. Eric shuddered and Nikolai stroked his back, kissed his throat, his neck.

Nikolai's words echoed in Eric’s head. It was so nice to be wanted.

Wait. Eric disengaged. “Weeks?”

“Pardon me?” Nikolai looked dazed. His cheeks were flushed and his lips reddened.

“You said weeks but we only met on Monday.”

“Ah. That is true.” Nikolai’s color increased and he rubbed his palms on his thighs. Eric eyes followed the movement, his gaze drawn to the other man’s groin. Nikolai appeared to be just as aroused as he was.

Nikolai met Eric’s eyes. “Please forgive me, Eryu. I may have misled you.”

Eric’s stomach clenched. Was the big Russian playing him?

He spoke through gritted teeth. “You have ten seconds to explain.”

“We met on Monday but that was not the first time I saw you: That was three weeks ago. We rode the elevator together. It was crowded but you stood out. I was drawn to you like a plant is drawn to the sun.”

He gazed at Eric, his expression earnest. “You did not notice me but I noticed you. I had to know who you were. I discovered where you sat, learned your name. I hoped we would meet, that we would talk.”

Nikolai bent his head and Eric stared at his pale blond hair as he spoke. “I did not know your orientation or if you already had a lover. These are things I could not ask another.”

He took Eric’s hand, his thumb stroking Eric’s knuckles. “When I saw your request for service I volunteered. I wanted very much to meet you. I hope you are not angry with me, Eric.”

It was so sappy, so romantic. He loved it. Eric shook his head. “I’m not angry. I’m flattered.”

Nikolai leaned in. “If you wish to leave I will not beg you to stay, but I am glad you are here. Many times I have thought of you, dreamed of you here, in my house.” He stroked Eric’s face. “In my bed.”

Nikolai kissed him again, their tongues tangling before he withdrew, encouraging Eric to follow. Eric chased Nikolai’s tongue, taking his turn to taste and explore.

They broke for breath and Nikolai smiled. “I want to make love to you but I will not try to persuade you to do more than you are willing. If you need time, if you wish to be courted I will gladly do this for you.”

Nikolai caressed him with his gaze and Eric almost purred. Were all Russian’s this passionate? This romantic? He was being swept off his feet.

“I don’t need to be courted. I want the same things you want: To be here, in your house…” Eric flushed but he raised his chin and continued. “In your bed.”

Nikolai swallowed and licked his lips. “Eryu. If you are sincere…if you desire me as I desire you…” He still held Eric’s hand. “I will be so gentle, so loving. I will love you as you deserve to be loved.”

Oh my God he was so far gone. Eric wasn't sure if Nikolai was talking about sex or emotions, but either way he was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he was falling hard.

“You have no idea how you affect me.” He looked at Nikolai from lowered lashes. “What did you say to me that day, after lunch, when you spoke to me in Russian?”

Nikolai blushed. “It is a Russian saying. I will try to translate.” He frowned, concentrating. “Kiss me and we will see stars; love me and I will give them to you.”

“Wow. That’s…” Eric trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Nikolai looked chagrined. “It is too much?”

Eric stood and pulled Nikolai to his feet, towards the door and the bedroom beyond. He let his eyes travel slowly over Nikolai. “It’s not nearly enough.” 

The end.

Check out this week's Silver Flashers.

 
 
 
 
Ryssa Edwards (m/m)
 

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Guest Blogger Heather Lin


 Today my guest blogger is Heather Lin. Welcome Heather.

On Pen Names by Heather Lin


Why do authors use pen names? For some, it's to stay anonymous. It's akin to a stripper name. You never want to be at work and have someone say "Oh, I know that name! You write about sex!" just like you never want someone to say "Oh, I know that name! You're my favorite stripper!" It's just plain awkward. And, for some, it can interfere with a day job and/or embarrass family members.

I was never really worried about any of this. My family is far from conservative, and I started writing sex while I was in college, where everyone's pretty much obsessed with sex, anyway. The big shocker was that I was the quiet, virginal one who seemed to have no interest in the risqué. But, of course, it's always the quiet ones. ;)

No, my personal predicament came from the fact that I don't only write sex. I also write poetry, science fiction, and when I was twelve my dream was to write the next epic fantasy novel. That dream never quite escaped me, so my purpose in using a pen name was simply to separate my erotic works from my non-erotic works. For erotica, I'm Heather Lin, and for everything else, I'm Heather Smith.

Sounds simple, right? Not so much.

What about cross-genre? What if I decide to write erotic poetry or horror with erotic elements? What about my latest release, Westridge, which is about 1/20th sex? I had to make the decision that any story including any type of graphic sex would go under Heather Lin; everything else would go under Heather Smith.

 But does this pose another problem? Readers who are used to seeing page after page of graphic sex may be surprised to read Westridge and find it to be more romantic than erotic.

How do you feel on the subject? Do you like reading different heat levels, or do you like being able to expect the same thing from the same name?

I hope you'll find time to voice your opinion.

Also, be sure to stop by my blog for your chance to win a Country Chic gift set from Bath & Bodyworks in celebration of Westridge's release!

I hope you'll find time to voice your opinion.

Also, be sure to stop by my blog for your chance to win a Country Chic gift set from Bath & Bodyworks in celebration of Westridge's release!

 Buy Link


 Blurb

Gabby Jones and Jason Dawson were born only months apart in the small, country town of Westridge. For the next eighteen years, they were inseparable, but after their high school graduation, Gabby got on a bus to the city, leaving Jason with a weak explanation and a broken heart. After five years of making it a point to avoid her old flame, Gabby comes home for a funeral and, thanks to meddling parents and circumstance, she and Jason are thrown together again.
But now Jason is an auto mechanic with an ex-wife and a daughter, and Gabby owns a successful flower shop in the city. Even if Gabby is able to admit she still loves Jason, and even if Jason is able to convince her to tell him the real reason she left, will they be able to get past the changes and broken pieces in time to start over?

Excerpt (Unedited)

"What do you mean you can't pick me up?" Gabby Jones asked in disbelief, trying to balance her purse, suitcase, ticket, and cell phone as she boarded the bus.
"I'll send someone to get you. I'm busy helping with the funeral arrangements," her mother replied.
"What about Dad?"
"He's busy, too. We'll send someone."
"Mom," she said unhappily. "I know who you're gonna send. You can't."
"Oh, you're gonna have to see him at the funeral, anyway. And just because you disowned all of your friends when you moved away doesn't mean I have to."
Gabby had left the small town of Westridge five years ago. In Westridge, the nearest mall was forty-five minutes away, and "got stuck behind a plow" was the most common excuse for tardiness. The kids hung out at Walmart or the diner during their downtime and talked about how they couldn't wait to get away from the stupid small town where everyone knew everyone else's business. They didn't want to be stuck in the same routine, seeing the same people their whole lives, and Gabby had felt the same way — trapped, bored, insignificant. At least, that's what she'd told Jason two days before getting on a bus to the city and not looking back.
Ever since, she'd made a point of avoiding her old friends whenever she returned to visit her parents. Of course, her mother always updated her on Jason whether Gabby wanted to hear it or not. Mrs Jones had complained about the girl Jason dated after Gabby, discounted their quick marriage, gushed over their new baby, and gloated when they got divorced just a year after her birth. It had hurt Gabby to hear the news, but there was no way she'd ever admit it to her mother. Gabby tolerated her mother's gossip and was grateful she'd managed to avoid her high school sweetheart in person, if not in conversation. But this visit would be different.
Her parents and Jason's had been best friends since high school, and none of them made a secret of wishing Gabby and Jason would get back together. Sending him to pick her up today was a perfect setup. For them. Gabby rolled her hazel eyes in annoyance, even though her mother couldn't see.
"I didn't disown anyone," she said. “I just went on to bigger and better things. People drift apart. It happens."
She found her seat and threw her bags onto the rack above it. Her neighbors didn't look particularly happy about the twenty-three year old talking away on her cell phone, but she ignored them.
"Bullshit," Mrs Jones admonished. Only her mother could make cussing sound like a gentle, motherly act. "You loved it here. You were perfectly happy until—"
"Mom!" Gabby interrupted, not wanting to hear what her mother would say next.
She'd become a master of denial over the years and couldn't handle anyone breaking through the fog of her self-induced memory loss. Her mother sighed. It was a heavy sound, and Gabby didn't like it. It made her seem old.
"You're right. It's fine," Gabby's voice softened. "I'll have to see him soon, anyway."
"It'll be okay, baby. I love you. I have to go now."
"Love you, too, Mom."
She snapped the phone shut and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes to fend off a tension headache. But all she could see was an eighteen year old Jason: blue eyes full of disbelief, face pale, fists balled.

* * * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jason demanded, slamming the door to his truck shut.
"I'm leaving."
Gabby had to work hard to keep her chin raised and her lips from trembling.
"Just like that? And all I get is a note in my locker on the last day of school?"
He threw a crumpled piece of paper at her feet. Her parents had dropped her off at the bus stop, but they were long gone. If that goodbye had been painful, this one would be excruciating — which was exactly why she'd tried to avoid it.
"I told you in the note—"
"And now you can tell me to my face."
He was making a scene. Gabby was embarrassed, and the tears she'd tried desperately to keep at bay burned in her eyes.
"There isn't anything to do in this town. I just need to see what else is out there."
"This is bullshit, Gabby. A few months ago, we were talking about getting married."
Her voice rose as she lied desperately through her teeth, trying to keep control.
"Well, I changed my mind."
The bus pulled up, and Jason's anger turned to pleading.
"Don't, Gabby. If you need some time away from this place, I'll go with you."
"You belong here, Jason."
"I belong with you."
"Not anymore."
Then she turned and boarded the bus, ignoring the stares. She managed to hold the tears back until he was out of sight.

* * * *

The pain of the memory was scorching, surprising Gabby with its intensity. She opened her eyes. She had to get a hold of herself. She looked past the old man reading a magazine, her gaze falling on the houses outside. They were reaching the suburbs, but her destination lay far beyond that. Gabby groaned and firmly pushed the last image she had of her high school sweetheart out of her mind. The next few days were going to be hell.


Thanks Heather. I enjoyed your blog and Westridge sounds great.
Readers, don't forget to stop by Heather's blog for your chance to win a gift set from Bath & Bodyworks. Here's the link: http://heatherlin88.blogspot.com/