Fires of Crete – an excerpt

Fires of Crete

(#eroticromance #gayromance #MM #contemporary)

firesofcrete_cover_smUnexpected, instantaneous, and combustible attraction. Two strangers meet online sharing a passion for Minoan history. An invitation to holiday on Crete. Andrew Larson, a studious university professor, and Stephanos Angelika, an attractive up-and-coming young Greek executive, finally meet, and an undeniable need blazes to life. They have two weeks to explore this heady level of their relationship. Is it lust or something deeper?

Andrew, adopted as a child, has only a medallion that ties him to his Greek heritage. And a faded photograph of a young woman, the name of a village scrawled across the back. He sets upon a journey of discovery, but finds even more than he bargained for when he sees Stephanos awaiting him at the airport on Crete.

Stephanos leads a cautious, solitary life as a young gay man leery of living his lifestyle openly, already estranged from a family that has disowned him. It’s a huge leap when he invites Andrew to visit. Upon seeing Andrew, Stephanos knows everything will change.
The friendship that began online erupts into something far stronger and lasting. Will the weight of past wounds destroy the deepening bond they have come to share? Or will it be love that triumphs?

EXCERPT

Stephanos left the apartment at dawn, before Andrew was up, in order to walk the silent streets and clear his head. He had to come to a decision; the sexual tensions that existed between him and Andrew had reached breaking point. He came to the steps of a Greek Orthodox Church. He often wound up here either late at night or early in the morning, when he was particularly conflicted. Something drew him to climb the steps and walk into this sacred space. Perhaps he would find that elusive answer he searched for in regard to his relationship with Andrew.

He studied the Byzantine-inspired architecture, focused on the cross affixed above the archway, and then walked inside. He inhaled the incense-scented air, the aroma of polished wood, studied the rectangular stained-glass windows for a moment, then sat down in the last pew and allowed the peaceful spirituality of the atmosphere to envelop him. His father had lived by the creed of this church. Had Stephanos wandered so very far away? He closed his eyes and bowed his head, instinctively reciting the prayers he had memorized as a child. They were a comforting ritual, and slowly the tension eased. All the memories of his youth came flooding back. Bittersweet now. He opened his eyes and stared up at the cross mounted above the altar, waiting for an answer.

He jumped when a hand settled on his shoulder. He glanced up, was shocked when he saw Andrew staring down at him.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered as he slid deeper into the pew.

“I heard you leave, and I decided to follow. Call it a hunch,” Andrew said quietly.

Stephanos stared at the cross. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted out loud. “I think I am a coward.”

Andrew reached for his hand, and Stephanos gripped it tightly. More tightly than he probably should have.

“What do you want to do?” Andrew asked.

Andrew’s steadying touch felt right to Stephanos. His presence was steadfast and necessary to Stephanos’s happiness and well-being.

“I don’t want to push you away. But I want more than friendship. I don’t want to lose the camaraderie we have established and exchange it for something less…substantial and fleeting, Andrew. Our relationship is too important to me.”

Andrew squeezed Stephanos’s hand. “Realistically anything beyond friendship can’t last. I have to return to the States in less than two weeks. But I’ll admit that I want more even though I know it can’t last.”

“I don’t know what to do. It seems I’ve waited all my life for now—for meeting you. And now I’m paralyzed. What if it’s not right? We can’t go back.”

“Everything is a risk. You could have stayed in the mountains, with your family, and never known something of the world. Do you regret what you did?”

“There are some days that I do, yes.”

“Because you’re alone now? But you know who you are, don’t you? Better than you did before? Do you really want to go back to that naïveté?”

It didn’t take Stephanos long to consider his answer. “No. Even with being disowned, I couldn’t change it if I wanted to. It’s inside me, and I can’t alter who I am, although some would think that would be an easy thing to do.”

“Risks are part of life. They’re scary, but they make us feel alive. Don’t you think?”

“Alive,” Stephanos repeated. “Yes, but I want more. I want to be free.”

“Come home, Stephanos. I want to be free too. I want to fly. With you.”

Stephanos looked at the angled fresco on the domed ceiling. Again, he thought of Icarus and how high he flew, how close to the sun he got. Was it worth it to feel the fire, to soar that close to a flame so bright? Wasn’t there always a price to be paid? Perhaps wounds borne? Stephanos twisted around to look at Andrew. He smiled and then stood up.

He got the answer he’d come for. Maybe not in quite the fashion he’d expected, but it was a response he embraced.

The sun was just beginning to ascend in the sky as they made their way back to Stephanos’s apartment, walking slowly. Stephanos still gripped Andrew’s hand, afraid to let go.

It was as they rounded the corner of Stephanos’s building that he pulled back and dragged Andrew into his arms. It was at the corner of his street where he kissed Andrew, thrusting his tongue deep into Andrew’s mouth. It was in the elevator that Andrew cupped Stephanos’s face with both hands and claimed a kiss, tongues clashing, lips fused, until the bell dinged and the elevator doors silently slid open when it arrived at Stephanos’s floor.

But it was inside the apartment when the fire roared out of control. Hardly had the door slammed shut when the inferno consumed them with the hunger of suppressed lust now freed as a wildfire racing across a drought-ridden field too encompassing to even think of quenching before it consumed everything in its path. And more than anything, Stephanos wanted to be engulfed by the fires of Andrew’s passion. Anogia and Andrew’s search for his past would have to wait another day.

In their own world now, sequestered from prying eyes, passion knew no bounds. Hands and tongues and bodies fused and mated. There was unleashed urgency to their movements, to their ravening hunger. And there would be no stopping the firestorm that erupted with full force.

firesofcrete_banner

Now available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KCNDGFW

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

The Drifter – an excerpt

The Drifter

#old west #historical #erotic romance #MF

the drifter_smThe post-Civil War west brings Slade McCord, a haunted, scarred man, brutally betrayed by love and almost destroyed by life, to the wild Arizona Territory on a mission. Lillian Manchester, the sheltered daughter of a rancher, yearns for adventure and dreams of the love and companionship of a strong man–the only one that can tame her restless, wildfire heart.Like a fresh breeze across the arid desert, Lillian’s indomitable spirit and zest for living breathe renewed life into the shell of the man, and Slade is seduced by his desire for the fiery, sensual beauty of a desert flower meant for him alone.

Can he break free of the chains that bind him to the past to accept what Lillian offers? Or should he ride away and forget he was ever offered a second chance to live…and love?

EXCERPT

She hated being here, hated her dress, the need to act like a lady, to hide her feelings and pretend she was happy when she was dying inside little by little.

Walking toward Neptune’s stall, she was determined to saddle her and leave, just ride out into the night, free of it all, needing to feel the wind carry her away.

“Here to meet one of your lovers, Miss Lillian?”

About to open Neptune’s stall, Lilly’s hand stilled and she stiffened, her breath caught in her chest. “Slade.” She turned toward his voice, the swishing of her skirt and petticoats the only sound in the dim, silent barn.

She saw a flicker of a match as he lit the end of a cigar, smelled its pungent, smoky odor. The moon was full and its glow filtered through the long windows. She could just make out Slade’s shadowy figure as he leaned against an empty stall several feet from Neptune’s.

“I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” Her heart pumped furiously in her chest. Had he followed her?

“Sorry if I’m ruining a private party, ma’am.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Lilly was puzzled by his apparent need to try to hurt her. How could he think Lilly would let another man touch her after what they shared? But she wouldn’t let him know his words wounded. She lowered her lashes, trying to hide her expression.

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Would you care?”

He shrugged. “What you do is your business. I have no say, but you wouldn’t want to get a reputation for being fast and loose.”

Lilly wanted to lash out at him, hurt him the way he tried to hurt her. “Maybe I’m just trying to build on what you taught me, gain a little more experience.” Her voice quavered slightly, but she forced herself to steady it. “Men like experience, don’t they?” She taunted him, knew she would be sorry, but couldn’t stop.

Her gaze followed the lit end of the cigar as it dropped to the floor, a booted foot stomped hard, extinguishing the end, and Slade strode toward her. He grabbed both her arms in a cruel grip, and yanked her close to him. His scent filled her, his anger was tangible.

“Is that what you’re looking for, Lilly? More experience?” He bit out the words between clenched teeth, words that smashed into her, seconds before his mouth crashed down branding her.

Eagerly she surrendered, opened her mouth, and welcomed him. His taste was smoky, male, tinged with a hint of whiskey. It intoxicated her. His hands moved suggestively over her breasts, dropping to her waist. His fingers bit into her hips, yanking her to him.

“If experience is what you want, I’m more than willing to oblige.” He pulled her toward the empty stall, out of sight of the main part of the barn, then pulled her into his arms again.

Lilly knew he thought he punished her, that she would run from him, but she reveled in his touch. It would never be enough. What he wanted–any way he wanted it–she willingly gave to him.

She’d never seen him angry before, but could taste the raging fire now. Had she managed to rouse the jealous beast with her unrestrained flirting? Surprisingly, the consequences of her actions didn’t frighten her. Instead, Lilly was elated she’d managed to breach his defenses. She’d goaded him, challenged him, and now she would reap the results of her words. Eagerly she submitted to his demands, anything to break through the wall that guarded his heart.

Roughly, Slade turned her to face the wall, pushing her forward, he yanked her skirts up, and her drawers down, ripping them in the process. She stood submissively, her hands flat against the wall, breathing fast in anticipation. Hard hands at her waist lifted her, and she felt his thick shaft at her entrance. Lilly inhaled sharply at his abrupt thrust as he impaled her, driving deep. There was no pain, she was slick with arousal, ready for him, and felt his forceful possession of her all the way to her soul. A pleasurable pain erupted through her entire body. She felt like a sparkler lit on the fourth of July, bursting with fire, as she met his savage, deep thrusts willingly.

“Jesus, woman, why do you do it?” he groaned against her neck, his thrusts halted with him fully buried inside her.

He nibbled at her sensitive neck, grazed his teeth along her exposed shoulder and she whimpered with desire.

“Damn you, Lilly, damn you for making me feel. Damn you for making me want you, need you the way I do.”

 

thedrifter_banner

Buy Link on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BQMG4T3

Also a #kindleunlimited selection

 

 

Sexual Chemistry

Erupting Sexual Chemistry Between Nathaniel and Elijah in Knave of Hearts

knaveofhearts_smIn Knave of Hearts, Elijah and Nathaniel seem very different from each other. Nathaniel is high-powered and all about business and the end result. Elijah is all about emotion and people. Elijah’s guardian, Charles, the head of a very thriving business empire,  is dying of cancer. Elijah, a sound engineer, has returned to Seattle to be with him during his final days. He could care less about the business, he’s here for Charles, and is dealing with a range of emotions concerning the loss of his only family.

Nathaniel seems almost a mirror of Charles in that he also is the head of a thriving business. He’s come to Seattle to help assure the security of Charles’s empire as a transition of leadership must occur without incident. Nathaniel is all about the business and emotion does not play into his life. Not that he hasn’t had his share of lovers. But lovers in Nathaniel’s world usually involve an ulterior motive.

The twelves steps of intimacy rears its head at a most inopportune moment. At least for Elijah it is. His focus in on Charles and his guardian’s needs during these final days. His emotions have everything to do with love for his guardian, and nothing to do with sex or have a short-term affair to ease tensions. Until the night of Charles’ birthday party–his last. And everything changes when one man walks through the door of the hotel ballroom.

Chemistry is what erupts. Eye to body. When Nathaniel first lays on Nathaniel, not even knowing his name he is intrigued. Eye to eye. Interest sharply deepens when they come face to face a little later in the evening, but not close enough to speak. Yet eye contact is achieved. The eyes can say a great deal. Voice to voice. And when a moment of respite from the party brings Elijah to the reception area for a moment of quiet, he gets anything but peace when Nathaniel finally initiates a conversation between them.

“You’re with Charles Ballard.”

Elijah’s head shot up. He must be dreaming. He blinked. Nope, the image didn’t go away. He got to his feet in order to face the gorgeous stranger. No socialite clinging to his arm. He was making conversation with Elijah. Elijah took a deep, shuddering breath. Oh, shit. Had he ever been less prepared for an encounter than this?

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Now what did he say? This was not the impression he wanted to make. Where was the brunette? Was he maybe just being polite by dancing with her? Oh, man. “Are you a business associate of his?”

“You might say that. I just arrived in Seattle. I received the invitation and thought I’d stop in to the party for a bit. But as I said, I’ve only arrived in town. I was just getting ready to go back to my hotel.”

“Oh.” Too bad. “Will you be in Seattle long?” Perhaps the question was a bit too eager.

“A while. A few weeks at least. Perhaps a month. It will depend.”

Too bad Elijah was leaving with Charles, so it was kind of a moot point. Though he would have liked to get to know this man better. Then a desperation to not lose the connection kicked in. He needed something normal…like a little flirtation, to keep him sane. He saw a discarded cocktail napkin on the table. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket, and scribbled his name and cell number. This was not something he did every day, but these seemed to be unusual circumstances. He had no idea if the guy was interested or not. If his business had anything to do with Charles directly or not. Whether he was just trying to make small talk or find out more about Charles. Frankly, it didn’t matter. Not one whit.

“If you happen to find yourself at loose ends, why don’t you give me a call?”

The stranger glanced at the napkin, then back at Elijah. “But you’re with Charles.”

Elijah nodded. “Yeah. I have to leave or I’d ask if you wanted to go for a coffee. Charles is getting a little tired and he needs to get home. But maybe another time, while you’re in town. You gotta name?”

The stranger seemed to be sizing him up. He reached out for the napkin. “I do have a name.” He glanced down at the phone number, then slipped the napkin into his breast pocket. “Elijah.” The way he said it was slow and drawn out. His tone was low, his voice soft and deep. Elijah recognized the tone. He gave Elijah a mysterious smile. “And if I decide to call, perhaps I’ll give it to you. Goodbye for now.” And then he turned and strolled away toward the front door of the hotel.

That Nathaniel, he is a smooth one all right. But don’t underestimate Elijah. He’s no pushover and he’ll give Nathaniel a run for his money–just as soon as he finds out the damned man’s name. And we still have like nine steps of intimacy to go. Oh, boy, was this story fun to write.

knaveofhearts_banner

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07963HDWN

Excerpt from Caution: Wet Paint

Caution: Wet Paint

#erotic romance #menage #bisexual #multicultural

Caution_WetPaint_smLove defies boundaries as three passionate lovers, torn apart by circumstances, are reunited once again.

Artists Arturo Cipriano and Prince Samir Zahi first met four years ago and discovered shared passion, both in art and in bed. Yet it wasn’t until these men found their muse—their perfect woman—in the form of Clara Simms, that their world became complete and their shared flame burned the brightest. But eventually, Samir was recalled to his war-torn country, separated from his lovers and his passions. For three long years, Arturo and Clara had tried to go on without him, but nothing was quite the same.

But now Samir returns, and no reunion has ever been as blistering. This time, will their love triangle last, or will it once again be torn asunder?

EXCERPT

Clara Simms had taken a dare four years ago and had posed nude for an art class while she was in college. How could she ever have thought it would lead to the most devastating and passionate love affair she would ever have? With two men who had loved each other as much as they seemed to have loved her. At the time. Neither she nor Arturo were ever the same after Samir’s disappearance. How could something so right have gone so wrong? It wasn’t that she didn’t still love Arturo, nor that he didn’t have feelings for her. But with Samir gone, something had changed.

The painting brought it all back, a dam burst with memories, images of passion, the feel of artistic expression, the rampant desire that would not allow her to rest.

Too many times she’d woken up in absolute agony, remembering her loss, only to discover the spot next to her empty, Arturo sitting in a corner of the darkened room, smoking a cigarette, and gazing at a blank canvas. Understanding had not made it any easier. Samir had been so much a part of both of them.

Arturo still painted, but some of that passion was missing, and it often left him frustrated and difficult to be around. It’s one of the reasons they still kept their separate apartments. She remembered the night he had walked out, and the agony in his expression as he’d looked at her. Even that memory still caused her pain. And loneliness.

She worked, she lived, she breathed, but she somehow felt distanced, living on the fringes of life. Arturo still painted, but he never used her as the model she was created to be for two men who, together, should have taken the art world by storm. That intimacy was missing and there wasn’t a day that passed that she didn’t yearn to reclaim it.

She so missed the intimacy of that summer three years ago. Clara couldn’t bring herself to return to the site of her complete surrender. Not just of her body, but of her soul. They had owned her, bound her to them. Molded her into something more than she had been, a living piece of art who could not survive without them.

And yet, much to her surprise, she had survived without Samir, as had Arturo. And done well enough. Clara Simms, the daughter of an oil baron, didn’t need to work. There was plenty of money to do whatever she liked. An only child of globetrotting parents, raised by nannies, she had never wanted for anything. Material, that is. She had never felt loved. Until Arturo and Samir.

Money truly could not buy happiness, or love. But she’d learned that too much time on her hands was not a good thing. She’d found a job, went to it religiously every day. And then home every night. Well, almost every night.

“So you know him, Clara? Does he have anything at your gallery? I want to see more. It’s as though I can’t get enough. I want to climb right inside. Do you know who the model was?”

It was a personal thing. Not to be shared. The relationship she had with Arturo and Samir was not for public consumption. Few would have understood it anyway. Even Clara’s best friend.

“No, we don’t have anything at the gallery that was done by the two of them. This is the first piece I’ve seen in years. I wonder who’s handling the work?”

Maggie, her friend since they’d both attended St. Mary’s private school, looked at her in surprise. She worked as a buyer at the exclusive store next door to this one. Every Friday, they met for lunch. “Now you’ve shocked me. I thought you knew every artist there was to know in this town.”

That was the worst part. She’d spent years trying to track down what had happened to Samir with absolutely no success. She wanted to know he was safe and happy. That he had wanted to go. Arturo had refused to talk about what had happened when Samir left.

Heat threaded through her as memory took over. Her nipples screwed into tight beads. She remembered that first encounter. Both Arturo and Samir had been seniors, sharing an apartment at that point in their lives. Just like her, both had been living on generous allowances from their families…although she doubted their families knew of their intimate relationship. At least at the time. Clara so belied her name. A puritan name for a not particularly puritan heart once she got to know them.

Hard, naked bodies pressed her between them. Hands sweeping across her skin. Touching her. Fingertips brushing across her lips, her nipples.

Oh, God, she didn’t want to remember. Not now. Her whole body ached.

Through the whole session, while she posed, she’d flirted silently with the two hot-looking, black-eyed young artists on the left side of the room. By the time the session was over, her body was burning up, her pussy soaking wet. And she knew there was something more going on with the two men than strictly modeling. But she’d not known how tightly woven together the art and the sex would be.

And then panic shoved all other thought out of her head. Did Arturo know the paintings had resurfaced?

“I have to go, Maggie. I’m sorry.”

“But we haven’t had lunch yet.”

“I know, I know. But I forgot an appointment. I’ll catch up with you later.” Clara fled from the department store. She had to get to Arturo.

 

Caution_WetPaint_banner

Now Available

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BQLLM1L

Aristaeus, the Original Beekeeper of Myth

Aristaeus, the Original Beekeeper of Myth

bee_flower-9665Although Ambrosia is an original creation orchestrated with the assistance of my muse, it is based on the belief held by the ancient Greeks and Romans that honey is the nectar of the gods. Did you also know that the name for honey comes from the Hebrew word for Enchant?

Legend has it that Aristaeus was a shepherd, the son of the water nymph, Cyrene. It is said that he was the first to teach the art of beekeeping. When Aristaeus’ bees perished (it is unknown whether it was through disease or accident of nature), he went to plead help from his mother. In agreeing to assist him, Cyrene led him to the Prophet Proetus who revealed to him a ceremony he must perform that would help him to rebuild his hives. Aristaeus did as Proetus directed and his hives were restored. Hence, the first beekeeper and the origin of the legend as told through the voices of ancient belief.

The recipe I offer in this delightfully delicious story is based on the ancient art of ambrosia_smstorytelling. “What if” I combine the “nectar of the gods,” with a fickle goddess as guardian, add in an “enchanting” beesinger named Ambrosia with a vow to fulfill, and one handsome lord with a desperate mission to save his people? For flavoring, mix in the biology of bees with the reviving spirit of a sweet magical elixir, and one has the recipe for an intriguing erotic fantasy romance. My result was Ambrosia.

One last tidbit to leave you with. Did you know that honey comes in many variations of color and flavor? Several factors can influence the taste and look of honey such as the variety of flower, the soil chemistry, and the honeycomb quality. It can have the look of gold, red, or even green. What a delicious combination–sweet, colorful…and sensual. So be sure to enjoy the story…and the food.

Ambrosia, now available at these fine ebook retailers:

Find it on Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N9736YH
Books2Read Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/4Aglyp
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/705901

 

 

 

 

Breathless Peaks – Excerpt

Breathless Peaks

(#eroticromance, #contemporary #MF)

BreathlessPeaks_smWho do you trust? Eleven thousand feet above the ground, in the company of a rugged, masterful man experienced in climbing to the highest peak. The mountain and the man is what Heidi remembered and yearned for still. And what she had shunned so long ago.

Now she’s back and he’s more than ready to take her to the breathless peaks she remembers so well. But first there’s the matter of a little discipline for leaving in the first place.

Kolton Harris is the type of man who demands her personal best and will accept no less. How far will she go? Heidi has returned, but does she have the courage to accept his demands? And to admit her own needs and desires?

EXCERPT

Heidi remembered one particular climb on the mountain. It was that afternoon the mountain and the man had claimed her so completely.
——
“Climb, Heidi. Get a grip. You know you can do it. Feel the mountain. Learn it. Accept it.” She pressed herself against the face of ragged rock, closed her eyes and attempted to absorb the vibrations pressing against her body.

“Submit to it. You’re fighting it and she won’t yield to you that way.”

“Like you,” she whispered against the unyielding granite gouging her cheek.

She felt Kolt drag himself up behind her. Felt his body heat press into her, his breath against her cold, exposed cheek, his firm hand, steadying her, traveling up over her buttock to anchor at her waist, holding her steady. Her breathing grew raspy. She was pressed between him and the mountain, neither one yielding, both wanting her submission.

She felt Kolt’s hands like brands upon her body. “You’re fighting it, Heidi. You’re too stiff, too unyielding. She won’t bend for you, you have to decide whether you’re willing to give her what she wants. Only then will she share her secrets with you.”

Her teeth chattered, but it wasn’t from the cold air at this elevation. “What do you want, Kolt?”

“From the mountain?”

“No. From me.”

She felt him press closer, felt the rock face dig into her flesh. Felt his hard cock press between the cheeks of her ass. She hated to admit that the dual sensations were driving her to distraction. He had made her so needy for his touch that she couldn’t concentrate. It was a good thing the harness was attached to a strong rope because she had a feeling the mountain had lost her attention. Her gloved grip tightened on the anchor she had just set in place.

“Hold tight, Heidi.” He positioned himself behind her, his breaths pluming hotly against the side of her face.

“What are you going to do?”

“Help you with your concentration.” One of his large hands slid inside the front of her pants as he plastered himself to her body, and she sucked in cold air.

“You can’t do that here. Someone might see us.”

His fingers drifted closer to her stiff clit, folding back the lips of her labia. She couldn’t help it when a groan escaped her lips.

“You like that?” he asked as his cool fingertips feathered over her lips and around her clit. “You’re wet, Heidi, so wet.”

“Kolt,” she tried to deny the desire he was banking inside her.

“Keep your hands on the anchor and your feet notched on the ledge. Don’t move, Heidi. Not an inch.”

Two fingers entered her vagina. “Nice, Heidi, very nice. You’re so hot and wet and tight. Spread your legs.”

She inched her feet out, felt the passion building to a roaring blaze that could melt the snow on the peaks above. She was finding it hard to control her breathing. She shuddered with pleasure as his fingers sank deeper.

“I won’t let you fall, Heidi. Do you trust me?”

Showers of sparks leaped before her eyes. “Yes,” she gasped. His fingers curled inside her and she groaned again. “I can’t take much more.”

“Yes, you can. Hold that thought. Don’t you dare topple over the edge until I tell you.”

“I don’t think I can hold on.”

“Of course you can. Give yourself to me. Completely.”

“I am.”

“No, I can feel you holding back. Relax and yield. The mountain won’t hurt you. And neither with I. Do you believe that?”

His fingers were spreading her, her juices flowing. He touched a spot and she thought she was going to die from the pleasure, right there. “Do you?” he demanded an answer.

Now available on Amazon

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

 

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DN37VRX

Camaraderie – An Excerpt

Midnight Pearl Brotherhood: Camaraderie

(Ep. 2, Midnight Pearl Brotherhood) (#fantasy, #MM, #submission)

MidnightPearl_Camaraderie_Ep2_smThe ancient myths of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl tell of an island formed from the depths of the ocean, in the midst of a sea of mystical, sapphire beauty. It is an island paradise built on love and devotion to a common belief, a society made up entirely of handsome and desirable men. And Alonzo Smith is on a journey to discover his place among them.

In this story, Alonzo has passed his initiation, but now he and the other initiates await their guide who will take them across the Titan Mountains and into the city. These men discover more about themselves, and each other, than they ever expected. In particular, Alonzo finds that there are depths to his sexy comrade, David, that he never anticipated…

EXCERPT

“I think we should go. How long are we expected to wait?” Helmer asked on the fourth night as they sat around the fire, having just feasted on a supper of steamed clams and crabs, none of the young men having been able to spear a fish today. Smart little creatures to have eluded them so. But not so lucky were those buried beneath the shores or scampering across wet sand. Parker, the Silent, as he’d been dubbed early on, was already cleaning up the discarded, broken shells with an eye toward burying the remains farther along the beach. Each of them had been trained well in maintaining cleanliness surrounding the area where they lived.

“Not a good idea,” Krispin, the Immaculata, said as he worked to clean his teeth with the end of a twig he’d cut from a tree at the edge of the jungle. Krispin certainly had a creative knack about maintaining his personal hygiene. No matter how primitive the circumstances, he found a way to always keep his appearance at its best. Alonzo had taken a lesson or two from the Immaculata. Krispin spit into the fire before continuing. Though his appearance was immaculate, there was something to be said for his manners. Alonzo was relieved he didn’t pee into the fire—he’d been known to pull that stunt a time or two.

“If you haven’t learned anything else from staying in these bloody huts,” Alonzo said, “I would have thought you’d learned that patience is one virtue those in authority admire most.”

“Hardly think he’s learned that bit,” David, dubbed the Steadfast, said. “I think he rather likes the punishments his squire meted out to him. That’s what you really want, isn’t it, Helmer? Get us all in trouble just because you prefer the spankings and the whippings.”

Helmer, who had acquired the moniker “Prick,” just grinned back at David. The nickname was meant more to needle Helmer than anything else. Helmer had shown himself to be a most impatient fellow right from the start, giving rise at most inappropriate moments. The group had shared more than one of his “reprimands” during training. In more than one instance the word had been mumbled by men rubbing their sore asses all thanks to him. And that obviously hadn’t changed one iota. A cheeky fellow, too. Not in the least as respectful as he should be. “Maybe. Never have been very good with patience. Not my strong suit.”

“Perhaps,” Alonzo suggested, “you’ll enjoy serving the Painmaster.” He shuddered inwardly at the thought of serving such a harsh man of authority. But here on the island there were all types, to suit every taste.

“Mmm,” Helmer said. “My squire spoke with me at length about apprenticing with that particular man of authority. I will say it does sound rather intriguing. I wouldn’t ever have to worry about getting enough…if you get my point. I’d think he’d be delighted having a man like me apprentice to him. Someone who rather enjoys being bad, more than being perfectly amenable…like our lad Alonzo here.”

Not the most wondrous nickname, but rather that than some other. Amenable Alonzo. And it had been the damned Prick who had thought it up.

“I’m not perfect, Helmer. In fact, I’d say I rather enjoyed the odd whipping from Squire. He has a very good hand. But I’d rather not have a steady diet of it, such as you’d enjoy, I’m sure.” He settled back between David’s thighs and felt the stiff presence of his friend’s cock poking insistently between his shoulders. He rubbed against that alert presence. David softly groaned. “I wonder who we’ll all end up serving once we make it to the city? I have a feeling it may not be who we think it is. But I must say, I am looking forward to the challenges that await us there.”

“First we have to get over the mountain,” Parker said, as he came back and dropped down cross-legged onto the sand. “My Squire said it’s not going to be any picnic crossing the Titans.”

“Yes, mine said the same,” David injected. Alonzo closed his eyes and David kneaded his scalp, combing his fingers through Alonzo’s long, dark hair. “He said we should get plenty of rest because we’re going to need every bit of stamina we can muster.”

“Well, this waiting around is killing me,” Helmer complained.

Parker leaned toward the pile of driftwood and picked up a sturdy stick. He directed the end toward Helmer. “Would you like some help? Just so you can sleep better, of course.”

Now Available

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0763NHDBZ
Books2Read Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/4jwRdk
Smashwords Buy Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/796398

Azurene: Divine Seduction, an excerpt

Azurene: Divine Seduction

(#futuristic #eroticromance #MF)

Azurene_DivineSeduction_cover_smPassion awaits on the Northern Shores far from the arid heat of her desert home. Lessons in pleasure from a water-dweller awaken a desire that is doomed from the beginning, because Elita Watende, youngest daughter of the High Lord of the Desert Borders, has been promised to the Lord Guardian of the Northern Shores. The match is tied to an important treaty for Elita’s rebellious tribe, and it is a union she cannot refuse.

More danger than she can possibly imagine awaits her beyond the desert borders. When the fiery-haired Elita rides one last time in her beloved homeland she is captured by the minions of Kadin, the Dark Underlord, whose plan is to use her as a pawn in a battle for control of the planet.

Elita believes all is lost, but before the dark minions can mark her as the property of the underlord, a fierce blue warrior from the Northern Shores descends upon the horde, freeing Elita from their clutches. He serves Lord Raoul Duarte, Lord Guardian of the Northern Shores, and Elita’s future match.

Yet he is so much more. For he is also an instructor in the arts of Amak, a mysterious man whom Elita knows only as Teacher who will school her in the knowledge of love for her union with another man…

Excerpt:

She saw the darkling nod and her body shifted as someone behind her began to tear at her clothing. In moments every piece of material was ripped away, exposing her to the night and to these devil’s minions.

He removed a glove, letting it drop to the ground, and she shuddered when he reached out to stroke a clawed hand over her breast. The touch was hard and cold as death.

“I’m going to take my time with you, pretty. You will grovel at my feet before we leave this place. You will beg for mercy. Our lord will see how well his new possession can be tamed for his pleasure.” He touched her chest, just above the full swell of her breasts, a spot that would be front and center visible for all to see. “Right here,” he said as he pressed the palm of his cold hand flat against her skin. There would be no way to hide such a horrible mark that would be seared into her skin forever.

Elita had never been so frightened in her life. But it wasn’t death that she feared, so much as living. A quick death in battle she understood. But looking at this creature standing before her, the smile on his face a parody of pleasure, she knew she would have an eternity in hell to regret her impetuous actions.

She had played on her father’s love and guilt in arranging a match she did not want, to get him to allow her to ride one last time in the desert. His guilt and her desire for freedom had overridden caution. And she would forever suffer for that act.

“You might as well relax, pretty, because there’s nothing you can do. Your pitiful guards all dead, no one to alarm your weak father to your disappearance until long after we have reached the labyrinth. And once inside, no one would dare to enter. Count your moments of freedom, for they are fast dripping away.”

She knew very well about the labyrinth to the cavernous kingdom. There was only one way to navigate it and that was through the benevolence of its underlord. To meld body and soul with the darkness, accept him as master.

She was to be used as a pawn, as a taunt to her father like a yellow banner to a ferocious minnocat. Her father could die because of her thoughtlessness.

She felt the tears threaten, but she refused to let this creature see her fear. She swallowed them down, forced the rage to burn inside her. It was the only way she could fight the pain she knew she was about to experience when that brand iron touched her flesh, searing and burning its way toward her soul.

The creature lifted the hand holding the iron, and she closed her eyes, then flashed them open again as screams rent the air. All around her were flashes of blue light swirling and arcing. The creature dropped the iron and turned to engage in the battle.

A tall man dressed in silver battle garb ran toward her, the thick blue plume on his helmet and the azure silk material emblazoned with an emblem she couldn’t quite make out marked him as the leader. He raised the sapphire blade of his sword and brought it down across the chains that imprisoned her legs. Sparks flew, his actions a blur.

He curled a strong arm around her waist as he chopped at the chains imprisoning her hands, and he steadied her as she dropped into his arms.

He slashed at the underworld wraiths as they made their way through the battle. As his blade ran through them, Elita was shocked to see them dissolve into black dust at his feet.

She wanted to yell, “Give me a sword, I can fight,” except she was still gagged and he had her imprisoned so tightly in his strong, muscled arm she couldn’t reach up to remove it without causing him to lose concentration. And she knew, as most women in this kingdom did not, that loss of concentration for even a second, could mean death.

The battle was over quickly and then the warrior picked her up and strode into the darkness beyond the scene of battle. She saw a pale shadow in the distance. As they drew closer she recognized the lines of a gigantic white battle steed. The warrior pulled a blue velvet cloak from the saddle and wrapped her in it. Then he removed the gag.

She worked her jaw to ease some of the ache. Before she could say a word, he had mounted and she was secured before him.

“Who are you?”

He looked down at her, the molten glitter of his strange eyes pinning her like a bird caught in the sites of a hunter.

“I serve at my lord Duarte’s command.”

She gasped. “You’re from the Northern Shore? But I thought you weren’t due for another week.”

She saw the shadow of a hard smile split the hard lines of his face. “My lord has heard of your headstrong ways. It was his intention to offer you protection in case something like this happened. It appears he was correct in his assumption.”

“I didn’t plan this,” she said mutinously.

“Nevertheless, it happened.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To safety. To where the underlord would not dare trespass.”

azurene_divineseduction_banner1

Buy Link on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JJ1VTHT

Currently a #KindleUnlimited selection

Trumpeter Swans and the Development of Swan’s Lake (Primal Magic)

Trumpeter Swans and the Development of Swan’s Lake (Primal Magic)

swans6croppedI love Trumpeter Swans. And this is prime wintering season for Trumpeter Swans here in the Pacific Northwest. Shallow wetlands being prime nesting grounds, they should feel right at home in this area of Washington.

Research and foundation are prime requisites in creating story and there must be time devoted to discover and relate elements and symbology to create an engaging and fully-realized three-dimensional story that is able to draw a reader into my world, as I see it.

“She is very beautiful.”

Reynaldo couldn’t look away from the view of the serene lake surrounded by the lush forests. So different from the barren fields and fallow grounds on the other side of the estate.

At one time, the lake had been just as stagnant as the dried up land. Before she came. But only the lake and the surrounding woodlands seemed to have been affected by her magical appearance.

He felt Satrius’s presence behind him, but Reynaldo was focused on the beauty of the swan who was about to take flight. He watched as her powerful wings extended and she glided across the lake, her mirror image reflected in the shimmering, clear blue water, and finally soared into the air. His gaze was glued to the arc of her neck as she stretched out, and he could almost feel the wind against his own face, the freedom of the sky as he followed the perfect symmetry of her form. He felt his soul reach out to her, yearning to soar with her.

swans-0748Swan pairs mate for life and usually form pair bonds on the winter grounds, often where the pen (female) was hatched. The pen will choose the nesting site, the cob (male) will defend it. A Trumpeter Swan’s life expectancy can span as much as 20 years. If one mate dies, the other with find another mate.

“He will destroy you, Martine. If you do not act soon, it will be too late and Satrius will find a way to be rid of you. Of all of us.”

She turned swiftly to face one of the elder shifters, Arwen. He was a gruff old man, but beneath that she had come to determine he had a heart of gold and he meant well. He led the northern flock, those who had arrived in the first week. Yet all seemed to look to him for guidance. News traveled quickly in this magical world, and when word reached them of a strange swan maiden from the other land, they had begun arriving daily from throughout Valliana. Usually a bird or two at a time, but within Arwen’s flock there were at least eleven.

“I cannot act too quickly, Arwen. I know the urgency—you have all more than made that clear.”

“You are the chosen one. We all knew it when we heard of your arrival from the other world. What we attempt here has never been done before. For a swanshifter to mate with one outside our species—we do not know if it can even be done. Not even in Valliana.”

Martine Cullen, the swan maiden, is of of Celtic descent; Reynaldo Donata, lord of Terragatto, is a shapeshifting predator, who is lord of the castle in this realm. A dark magic has settled over Valliana, and only Martine can break the spell of Satrius, a very powerful warlock, who has cast a spell over Reynaldo.

swans-1540When I’m researching, I usually start with symbology, and in this story, I wanted to know what the swan symbol represented. What I found is this: Swan is a symbol of gracefulness and intuition. In alchemy, it is a symbol of hermaphroditism, being either male or female, It is a marriage of opposites – perfect for my story. But, of course, as any writer will, we take great liberties with the what-ifs, at least jumping one step farther. What if this, what if that? I’ve never been good at taking just one step…

She again turned toward the water and gazed out at the shifters resting there. It was then she came up with a dangerous alternative. Would any of them agree? Could she accept it, herself?

She whirled back toward Arvin. “What if we could give him what he seems to desire? It would be taking a chance, but if we can break the darkling magic it might be worth a try.” Suddenly, it all became clear. “That’s it.”

“What are you saying?”

She laughed and a weight lifted from her shoulders. There was a way to beat Satrius and possibly to break his hold over Reynaldo. “It has never been done before—not among the swanshifters.” Would it be such a sacrifice for her to accept another into the pairing? She felt a tingling begin between her thighs at the idea she was considering. It was a desperate chance, but one she was willing to take if the others could agree.

“You can’t be considering what I think you are.”

“Would it be so wrong? Help me, Arwen. You have told me how dangerous it would be for a child of Reynaldo and Belinda to be brought into this world. If it was not so, this gathering would not be taking place.”

“It is dangerous. If you have not found a cob to your liking thus far, what makes you think you will find one acceptable for the relationship you are considering?”

“I was not thinking of a cob instead of Reynaldo, but someone who would enhance our pairing. Help me find the right one. One to tempt him from Satrius—one he could not deny. Please.”

“You ask a great deal, Martine.”

“I know. I know he wants me, but he holds back. If we present him with something more, something he cannot deny, strong enough to turn him away from the evil. Offer him so much pleasure he is blinded by it. If Belinda is allowed to bear his child, the chasm of evil will rip wide open. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not.”

“You know the flocks better than I. Help me find the right cob who could bond with two others for a lifetime. One who is strong enough to help me woo Reynaldo away from his sinister lovers. Yes, he seems to want me, but it isn’t enough.” She again turned to scan the waters. “There must be one among the many—one who would welcome this strange pairing.”

“You are asking that he submit to another. It will not be easy to find one that will accept the sharing of a pen. This is far beyond anything that has been attempted before. For you to share yourself between two—is this really what you want?”

She turned to look up at him. “I must pair with Reynaldo. To lose this chance, could mean all of our deaths.” She touched her abdomen. “In here, I know this is right. What we plan is the path I must follow. That we must follow.”

One step farther. Our Martine is a very clever woman. And it will take an adventurous, determined shapeshifter to save Reynaldo and this world, one who isn’t afraid to break boundaries, to bend mating rituals long followed in the past.

Thus, we have the story of Martine and Reynaldo, shifters who will break all the laws of their respective kinds in order to save their world.

 

SwansLake_banner

Now available on Amazon.com

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑