Category Archives: Gay Fiction

Black Snow by EAB Upcoming Release Blog Tour

black-snowTitle:  Black Snow

Author: EAB

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Publication Date:  11/7/16

Word Count:  162,045

Buy links: Dreamspinner Press

Amazon

B&N

Blurb: Prince Brier Snow has lived in the shadow of King Snow’s exalted memory. However, his fate changes when he nears his majority and Lirend’s steward queen attempts to dethrone him by exploiting an obscure requirement in the late king’s will: a yearlong sabbatical.

Brier travels to the desolate land of Aire to train under the Ceve guild, scorned refugees of war, including their guarded leader, Roland. Brier’s skillful master unlocks hidden potential, and what begins as a dutiful bond turns into ill-fated affection. When Brier returns to the capital, he’s carrying proof of his indiscretions with Roland—and his condition grows more apparent with each passing day. An affair with the huntsman is a scandal Brier’s enemies can use against him, but the birth of an heir is a burden even Brier is not sure he can bear.

Roland Archer, a man with a murky past, is skeptical of the contract to train the prince but willing to do anything for the guild’s freedom. Despite his best intentions, he is smitten by Lirend’s future king. Roland has resigned himself to solitude, but fate has other plans—for him, for Brier, and for Lirend’s oppressed subjects. Can Roland help Brier face a power-hungry queen and a country torn asunder? Either they will bring equality to a land that desperately needs it, or they’ll be thwarted by cunning enemies and an illusory curse.

Excerpt:

Prologue

“LONG AGO, there was a maiden with hair black as ebony and skin as white as the snow, so that they called her Snow White. Her lips were red as the rose,” Brier’s portly nurse told him, smiling.

“And she sang and danced. And she was very beautiful,” Brier added perfunctorily.

“Indeed she was,” replied Marietta. “She was kind and comely, and all the kingdom loved her, but the queen of the kingdom was jealous and wanted to get rid of her for good.”

“How?”

“She decided to have her killed.”

“Oh no!” Brier answered, tone darkening.

“Oh yes!” cried his nurse. “She hired a huntsman to kill her in the wood and bring back her heart, so that she could keep it forever.”

Brier slid his legs up and placed his chin on his knees, enraptured in the story about the fair princess whose name was like his own.

“The huntsman did as he was told and took Snow White to the forest. As they entered the forest, they came across a field of flowers. Snow bent down to pick a bouquet of wildflowers, and the huntsman crept behind her and lifted his dagger!”

Brier gasped, horrified. “But he should not kill her!”

“He could not,” corrected the nurse, excitement alive in her eyes. “For he had fallen in love with the princess and told her of the evil queen’s plan.”

“Good gods,” Brier exhaled, relieved.

“Snow White ran,” Marietta whispered, and Brier hugged his knees more firmly. “She had to run away deeper into the woods to escape the queen’s wrath. She found herself alone in the deep, dark wood. ‘Get out… out…’ the trees whispered all around her, and she was terribly afraid. And rightly so,” the nurse added, whipping her head toward Brier almost in warning. “The dark wood is a dangerous place. She tripped and fell into a great crack in the earth. As she fell, a nearby willow’s roots seized her and pulled her under.”

“Then what happened?” Brier whispered, breath hastening.

“Then she lost hope that anyone would ever find her. She thought that she was doomed to live out her days locked in the roots of the old willow tree. Starving, thirsty, and withering away like an old winter branch. However, this could not be further from her fate. Yes, she was stuck, but a passerby heard her cries in the tree roots. He stopped in his tracks and called his brothers to come investigate. Men that wore beards and were half the size of normal men. Some might call them dwarves. Six more dwarves stopped and listened to the cries coming from the old willow. ‘Chop it down!’ the eldest brother answered. And so they did, all seven of them. They cut the tree down, and Snow White was saved.”

“Hooray!” Brier shouted as he jumped on the pillow top mattress.

“When they took her from the tree, she was dirty and exhausted. The willow had cursed her in its last effort of revenge for cutting it down. She had a scar on her neck in the pattern of a tree leaf, but she was alive, and so they brought her back to their cabin, and they mended her to good health.”

“Did she dance and sing again then, Marietta?”

“She did. And how fair she was, thought the dwarves. They spoke of her beauty to other folk who came through the wood. But then, word traveled back to the evil queen. And she was furious! She called for the huntsman, and he confessed that he could not kill Snow White. Enraged, she ordered the guardsmen to kill the huntsman, and, with his dying breath, he confessed his love for the princess.”

Brier reached over to grab a pillow off his oversized bed and squeezed. He suddenly had the feeling that the story would take a turn for the worse.

“The queen decided to finish the job the huntsman did not with a poisoned apple. She disguised herself as an ugly elderly woman, and she came to the cabin that Snow White lived in with the dwarves. She showed Snow White the apple she poisoned, bloodred and perilous, but still Snow had the urge to taste it. The princess took a bite of the apple, and when she did, she died.”

“How dreadful.” Brier shook his head. “Why should the queen hate Snow White so?” he asked, incredulous. “I do not understand.”

The nurse chuckled and smiled at him. “Shall I continue?”

“Please do, Marietta. I should like to know the ending,” Brier replied with a sad smile.

“Well,” the nurse said in a warm voice. “The queen did think that she had finally rid herself of the fair maiden, but alas, there was a crack in her black magic, one that she could not foresee. The magic of the willow was stronger than her own, and it purged the strength of her poison so that Snow White did not die but slept for many years. The prince of the neighboring land did hear of a maiden sleeping soundly in the wood on a bed of wildflowers, in the cabin of seven dwarves.”

“And, I suppose, he too was handsome!”

“He was a handsome prince, I should say, though not as handsome as you, Prince Snow.” Brier blushed through his wide smile. “He came on his white steed, and he found Snow White sleeping soundly just as the rumors had told. Indeed, she was fair, and the prince decided that he had to have her in death or in life, and so he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to her rose lips.”

“What did happen then I wonder?”

“Then she did wake up, Prince Snow! Her eyelids fluttered open, and she rose from her bed made of daisies and baby’s breath! Oh, how happy were the dwarves and the prince. The dark magic that the queen put on Snow White fell upon herself! And she turned into the old and ugly woman she disguised herself as. The queen was so furious that she drove herself mad with rage. And so, Snow White married the prince, and the dwarves sang and danced and were happy. Princess Snow White had many children, and lived ever after.” When the story finished, the nurse stood up and helped Brier into the comforter. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but he pursed his lips and sighed.

“Did you not like the story, little prince?”

Brier bit the inside of his lip, struggling. “It is not that, Mar’, only that I feel sad for the princess.”

“And why should you? Did she not meet a happy end?” the nurse asked as she sat down on the corner of the bed.

“Mayhap,” Brier answered, considering. “But how did she come to love the prince who had only loved her for her beauty when the huntsman had loved her for her heart?”

The nurse blinked at the prince’s reply. “How indeed.”

“And the poor huntsman, who had died, rather than to disgrace himself with the blood of his beloved. ’Tis a sad story indeed, Marietta.” Brier pouted. “Although you said it was a happy end.”

“Well….” Marietta sighed, bemused. “I did not think of it in that way, little prince.” She tucked him in tighter as if swaddling a babe.

“I think that I should marry a huntsman over a prince,” Brier decided as he flopped his head into the mountain of pillows, smiling softly.

“And why not a princess?” the nurse questioned, crossing her arms.

“That is because I should like to be kissed by a huntsman,” Brier answered matter-of-factly.

Contact information:

E-mail:  Eabemie@gmail.com

Facebook: EAB Author Page

Goodreads: Goodreads

EAB’s BIO:

EAB is an airline steward/stewardess—depending on the day—who loves writing erotic fiction. This translates to serving Wild Turkey bourbon at 38,000 feet and writing smut at 3:00 a.m. EAB spends free-time role-playing and reading. While EAB’s true passion is writing, EAB also enjoys reaching high scores in nerdism, spending time with family (cats included), and watching anime. An East Coaster at heart, EAB loves New York’s Broadway and greasy, heartburn-inducing pizza. Feel free to drop a line or recommend some good reads! Always looking for a new book to devour!

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The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb Blog Tour & My Dreamspinner Facebook Chat

I am soooooo excited about the release of The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb tomorrow: November 27, 2015!! I have a blog tour happening with Pride Promotions and the information is from their website below (thank you Will Parkinson, you ROCK! He totally pulled everything together in like 9-10 days). There’s a HUGE giveaway also. 

And on Saturday, November 28th, from 1-3pm, I’ll be on the Dreamspinner Facebook Page from 1-3pm having a chat about the book, the characters, the series, my writing, etc. So buying the book (reading it) would probably be a good idea so you could ask all your questions on Saturday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author Name: Vicktor Alexander
 Book Name: The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb
Series: The Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm
 Release Date: November 27, 2015


Blurb:

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

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

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

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


Pages or Words: 304 pages
 Categories: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gay Fiction,
Historical, M/M Romance, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, *Trans,
Interracial, Military


Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

He was not sure how he knew, but the dying woman belonged to him, and someone had just taken him away.
Tossing his head back, Orley let out an anguished shout at the heavens.

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

Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
Someone knocked lightly on the door, and Orley winced as he realized
his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap after his taxing
journey out of Tlondon had turned into a deep sleep and a brand-new
nightmare.

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

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

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

“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant asked, and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.
“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts, I’m afraid. I appear to
have overslept during my nap, and now I am feeling quite peckish,” he
lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How full his lips were, and how much Orley desperately wanted to kiss them.
“I think I would really like to know your name,” he heard himself saying.
The maid’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly. “Me, Your Grace?”
Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no one else in the room but
you and I, and I assure you that I already know my own name. Unless it
has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”

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

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

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

“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.
Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.
“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the most beautiful woman
I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I would really like to kiss you.
May I?”

“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”
Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the
ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with
“men” of a certain ilk. He would be speaking with Heathcliff about those
matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his energy and
attention was focused on Chester.

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

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

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

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


Buy the book:

Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperbook| ARe| Kobo| Apple iTunes| Amazon

 Meet the author:

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


Where to find the author:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/VicktorAlexanderB
Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorVicktorAlexander
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/VVeeB
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/vicktora/
Other: https://www.instagram.com/vicktoralexander/
Other: http://www.vicktoralexander.tumblr.com
Other: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VicktorAlexander
Other: http://www.vicktoralexander.com
Other: http://www.authorvicktoralexander.com
 Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27422380-the-servant-duchess-of-whitcomb

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Anne Cain


Tour Dates & Stops:

27-Nov: Havan Fellows, Louise Lyons, Prism Book Alliance
30-Nov: Onwards, Upwards, House Millar
1-Dec: Jessie G. Books, Divine Magazine
2-Dec: Tempeste O’Riley
3-Dec: MM Good Book Reviews, Fantastical Worlds, Fiery Love
4-Dec: Mikky’s World of Books, Brightly Books
6-Dec: Love Bytes
7-Dec: Inked Rainbow Reads, BFD Book Blog
8-Dec: A.M. Leibowitz, Antonia Aquilante
9-Dec: Grace R. Duncan’s Blog
10-Dec: Bending The Bookshelf, Book Lovers 4Ever

Vicktor Alexander’s BIG Birthday Paperback Giveaway!

Hey everyone!!!!!
Woohoo!!! Welcome to my BIG Birthday Paperback Giveaway!

November Birthday Giveaway 15

Since it’s November 16th, my birthday and I’m turning 32 I decided to do a BIG paperback giveaway and… you know a normal giveaway as well. LOL. And when I was trying to figure out what to do for my birthday I found out that my dear friend, Shae Connor, had a book releasing today, on my birthday. Then I found out that another friend, Piper Vaughn, had a book releasing today as well, with Kenzie Cade. So I decided to do a BIG paperback giveaway where I am giving away to ONE winner: 1 signed paperback copy of Nobody’s Son, 1 paperback copy of Prickly By Nature, 1 signed paperback copy of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb, 1 signed paperback copy of The Alpha’s Beautiful Mate, and 1 signed paperback copy of The Alpha King, along with swag from Shae Connor and Vicktor Alexander, and a $32 Amazon GC. But the gifts don’t stop there!

To ONE winner: 1 ebook copy of Nobody’s Son, 1 ebook copy of Prickly By Nature, and 1 ebook copy of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb-gifted to the winner either through Amazon or ARe.

So my assistant, Melissa Kleen, will be choosing a winner by the 19th from among those of you who leave a comment, share the blog post on Facebook and Twitter, and leave us the link in a comment also. So check out the excerpts from the books from Shae, Piper, and myself below and leave a comment so you can be entered to win.

Good luck!

-Vic

Nobody’s Son

by Shae Connor

NobodysSonLGSequel to Wayward Son
Sons: Book Three

Who wouldn’t want a nice cup of tall, dark, and gorgeous? Shaun Rogers does. He’s working at the front desk of a clothing-optional gay resort when Conrad “Con” Brooks walks in. The sweet, funny, and smart IT guy is there to install a new network and security system, and sparks fly between the two men from the start. Trouble is, Shaun’s hiding his sexuality from his grandmother, the only family he has left, and that makes him reluctant to take the leap with Con.

Then a man claiming to be Shaun’s absent father shows up out of nowhere, throwing Shaun completely off balance. His life spiraling toward chaos, Shaun soon discovers that his “father” is hiding secrets of his own. When things come to a head between them, it’s Con who comes to Shaun’s rescue—but the incident could force Shaun into a decision he’s not sure he’s ready to make.

ISBN-13 978-1-62798-044-9
Pages 200
Cover Artist Maria Fanning

Excerpt from Nobody’s Son

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Despite everything, Shaun’s immediate reaction was to say no. “Con—”

“It’s just dinner,” Con pointed out, his deep voice smooth and silky. “Not a lifetime commitment.”

Shaun flushed and dropped his gaze. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s just….”

He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I’m not attracted to you would be a bald-faced lie. I’m straight would be too, even if he still couldn’t bring himself to admit to anything else out loud. Maybe I want it to be more than just dinner was probably closest to the truth, but they had to start somewhere, right?

Con waited, patient. It’s just dinner echoed in Shaun’s head.

“All right,” Shaun finally said. He lifted his head to meet Con’s gaze again. “Just dinner it is.”

“Just dinner” was good. Shortly after Shaun finished his shift at four, Con drove them the short distance down to Commerce and picked out a local bar and grill, nothing fancy. Their conversation over some pretty decent steaks and fries ranged from school to sports to music. Con had a computer science degree, no surprise, but Shaun hadn’t expected the master’s in information security. They both loved basketball, Con loyal to his alma mater, Georgia Tech, which was fine with Shaun, who supported Georgia State for the same reason but mostly cheered for whoever was playing against the University of Georgia. When it came to music, Shaun had a soft spot for his gran’s Motown favorites and the 1990s R&B his mother had preferred, and Con nodded approvingly at both.

By the time Con talked him into splitting one of the ridiculously huge, decadent, layers-of-chocolate desserts on the menu, Shaun had relaxed completely. All their “just dinner” talk aside, having dinner with someone when you knew you were both attracted to each other had to qualify as a date, even if nothing else came of it.

But it was fine. It didn’t matter that there was a man across the table from him. Yeah, they still couldn’t get into public displays of affection—not in a mostly rural area in the Deep South—but they didn’t need to. They could talk and laugh and share a gigantic slice of chocolate cake, and none of the rest of it mattered.

They continued chatting on the way back to the resort, Con asking how Shaun’s swimming had been going, Shaun telling him about taking a quick dip before work on Sunday and managing almost six full laps before his stroke faltered. But as Con pulled his car into a space next to his cabin, Shaun fell silent. His heart pounded, his skin flushed, and his palms went clammy.

Then Con touched his shoulder, one big hand gently turning Shaun to face him. “I know we said ‘just dinner,’” he said. “But—”

Shaun reached for Con with both hands and his mouth.

Con met him halfway.

ebook|paperback

Prickly By Nature

by Piper Vaughn & Kenzie Cade

PricklyByNatureLGPortland Pack Chronicles: Book Two

In the four months since hedgehog shifter Avery Babineaux started investigating the disappearance of a young female werewolf from the Portland Pack, he’s discovered his life’s passion. Now he’s apprenticing under established PI Corbin Reid. Avery hopes his training with Reid will help him finally bring Lacey home, but detective work isn’t without its perils, and the potential dangers strain his relationship with his new mate, Dylan.

Dylan Green would be perfectly content with his mating and his motorcycle shop if it wasn’t for his constant worry about Avery’s safety and the fact that Avery’s never home. Proud as he might be of Avery’s determination to prove his worth and fulfill his promise to Lacey’s father, Dylan can’t stand the thought of Avery being hurt. Yet what right does he have to demand Avery give up his job when it’s clear Avery’s found his true purpose? Still, Dylan wishes he could, and the appearance of a new police detective who sets his sights on Avery only adds to the tension.

Something has to give, but stubbornness runs in both their veins, and it might take a catastrophe for them to find a compromise they can live with.

ISBN-13 978-1-62380-161-8
Pages 260
Cover Artist Reese Dante

Excerpt from Prickly By Nature:

RUNNING NAKED through the woods was exactly what Dylan Green needed. Thank the weather gods they’d held back the rain for the past few days. At least the ground was drier. Although wet forest floors didn’t matter to Dylan’s wolf. He was ready to stretch all four legs. It had been too long. Even longer since he’d run with his mate.

“Can you not get this heap to move any faster?” Avery practically vibrated off the seat next to him. Good thing he’d chosen the Firebird over his bike today.

“Hey now. Phoenix is not a heap.” Dylan patted the pristine dash, brushing over the treated wood with love. After glancing at the speedometer, he said, “We’re going the speed limit.” Which, yes, he knew was an anomaly for him, but only when he was on his bike. Phoenix required more finesse.

Before he could say anything else, Avery snorted and cut him off. “Phoenix?”

Unabashed, Dylan kept his focus on the road. “Firebird. Phoenix. Phe and I have been through a lot together. She’s pa—”

“Did you just nickname the car you call Phoenix? And dear God”—Dylan grinned at Avery’s pronunciation of God. It came out more like “Gawd.” He loved how Avery’s accent took over when he was teasing or passionate or angry—“please don’t tell me you’re about to say this mash of metal, oil, and leather is part of your family, our family. I do not, nor will I ever, claim a hunk of junk as a child. You can bet your ass I won’t be wiping its behind.”

That, in fact, was exactly what Dylan was going to say, but thinking about it at the moment, he had to admit how ridiculous it sounded out loud. Though he’d never say so to Avery.

Avery continued, “And let me guess, you talk to your baby.” Dylan could practically hear the giggle Avery was working so hard to suppress. “Does Phe talk back?”

The road up to Forest Park was narrow and curvy, so turning to look at Avery would have to wait. However, he did roll his eyes and reach over to pinch Avery’s thigh. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Cars don’t have verbal skills.” And, yes, he did talk to Phoenix, because until Avery came along, Phe had been the one thing in his life he’d pampered and taken care of that had never let him down. So what if he talked aimlessly to a vehicle? He’d worked hard to build her. That bond was unbreakable.

He thought of Avery, then amended himself. Almost unbreakable.

Phoenix was his baby. She had seen him through many tough times, and he had done the same for her, but there was no connection stronger than what linked Dylan and Avery. Sitting only inches away and not touching, Dylan still felt Avery like a second skin. So much so that, as he turned off the road to park near one of the forest trails, he felt Avery’s mirth in his bones. Without looking, he knew his mate would have a sparkle in his earthy hazel eyes and a smirk on the lips Dylan craved so much.

He even knew Avery would chuckle before he did, but that had more to do with knowing the man than an actual feeling.

“So what you’re saying is Phoenix doesn’t talk back when you ask how her day went?”

Dylan pulled into an available spot, turned off the engine, and opened his door. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he replied with a wink and unfolded himself from the front seat.

“Aww”—Avery chased him from the car—“you say the nicest things.”

The brush of Avery’s palm over his ass had the ever-smoldering embers of need inside Dylan blazing to life, completely trumping the lighthearted teasing. How was it possible he wanted Avery more every day?

“You know,” Avery said in a low but conversational tone as they walked to where Lucas, Sawyer, and Kirk were parking their bikes, “I like it when you’re a pain in my ass. What do you say we blow this run and….” He trailed off, quirking his brow at the obvious.

Dylan groaned. Temptation had nothing on Avery Babineaux, and Dylan’s first instinct was to give in to the suggestion, but then he remembered why they were there in the first place.

In the months following Avery’s rescue from the warehouse and Melnyk’s entry into protective custody, Avery stayed true to his word. With help from one of Lucas’s ex-flings, Avery was currently a proud PI’s apprentice. It would still take months—many of them—for Avery to complete the hours of training needed to gain his own license, but he was well on his way. Corbin Reid, Lucas’s ex’s cousin, had taken Avery under his wing and in turn consumed most of his downtime. Dylan had only rare moments with his mate, depending on Avery’s busy work schedule—honeymoon phase or not. Visits to Wolfhound and even nightclubs with Avery were few and far between. Avery spent long hours immersing himself in the world of investigation and soaking up every little thing Reid was willing to teach. And when he wasn’t working, he was searching for Lacey.

By the time they’d broken the first link in the chain of the trafficking ring, Lacey had been missing four months. They had just crossed over into February, which made it six months, and from what they’d heard, the police were no closer to finding Lacey than Avery was. It didn’t help that Wallace, the shifter detective they’d been getting updates from, had gone silent once he transferred into the Human Trafficking Task Force.

While days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Avery hunted the dregs of every single lead he could scrounge up. Dylan watched helplessly as the effects of dead end after dead end weighed heavily on his mate. To say he felt useless was an understatement.

Then Mother Nature smiled down on them, with cloudless skies and sunshine in the middle of the wet season. It gave Dylan and Avery the opportunity for the one thing they both needed. Fun.

Dylan hadn’t enjoyed a run in weeks, and it had been longer since he’d played with Avery in the woods. A run was long overdue, and as great as a long hard fuck sounded right then, Dylan knew Avery’s hedgehog had to be aching for freedom too. Besides, having his mate naked and writhing under him was always a possibility when they got home.

Or in the car before they left the park. Dylan smiled, thankful he’d driven Phoenix, even on such a beautiful day. It was an inspired decision. He could definitely see some hot and dirty backseat action in his future.

Looking down, Dylan’s heart filled at the contented look on Avery’s face. All signs of worry and stress were vanquished for the moment. Dylan wondered, not for the first time, if they would ever have a break, ever have time to enjoy their new mating, or whether it would be a never-ending struggle, with outside forces constantly interfering.

“What?” Avery squinted, perplexed. Knowing Avery felt his concern warmed him.

Damn, Dylan didn’t think he’d ever get enough of his mate.

Avery’s nostrils flared, and Dylan knew he sensed his arousal as much as smelled it. He pulled Avery to him and brushed their lips together. As with most things between him and Avery, the kiss quickly deepened. Avery slipped his hand from Dylan’s hip to his chest and tweaked his nipple. Dylan groaned and pushed his tongue into Avery’s mouth, claiming what was already his. It was a battle of wills Dylan knew all too well as Avery’s perfectly orchestrated dance of want and desire balanced on a thin thread Dylan threatened to tear down each time. All of Avery’s taunting and flirting—it was foreplay, and Dylan could hardly wait for the fireworks. It was always worth the wait with Avery. Always.

“For the love of God, could you two get a room?” Lucas complained as he walked up. “Is it impossible to go five minutes without mauling each other?”

Dylan’s only response was a chuckle into Avery’s mouth as he pushed his fingers through Avery’s hair, holding him in place to prolong the kiss. He didn’t have to look to know Avery flipped off Lucas, mostly because he heard the laughter coming from their other friends.

When he pulled his mouth away, Dylan rested his forehead on Avery’s, breathing heavily. Christ, he loved the dazed, sated look Avery got when he was ready to drop to his knees, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen. All because of Dylan. Maybe Dylan should kick his own ass for not taking Avery up on his offer.

With another groan, Dylan touched his lips to Avery’s again, then stepped back.

Avery blinked, then shook his head. He turned to Lucas and graced him with a playful smile. Uh-oh. “No need to be jealous, Lucas. There’s plenty to go around.”

ebook|paperback

The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

Servant-Duchess-Of-WhitcombScandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm: Book Two

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

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

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

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

ISBN-13 978-1-63476-544-2
Pages 304
Cover Artist Anne Cain

Excerpt from The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he hated sleeping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ebook|paperback

Now Available: Super Gay!

Now Available: Super Gay, a free read.

When William “Will” Ladler shows up at the Radisson Hotel for the wedding of his best friend’s younger brother, he’s surprised to see the gorgeous, effeminate young man he’d danced with the night before at a club, standing at the altar dressed in a tuxedo as a member of the wedding party. Will watches as the younger man’s long auburn hair blows in the wind, missing the entire ceremony. He’s determined to not only find out the younger man’s name but to get his number and ask him out on a date, which is what he’d wanted to do the night before.

Derrick “Rick” Tramun is beyond shocked to see the gorgeous Will Ladler at his older brother’s wedding. Their night was cut short by a fight and Rick’s overprotective friends, who were determined to make sure that he makes it home by his curfew. After dancing with Will the night before and jacking off to the memory of it before bed, Rick is more than happy to take Will up on his offer for dinner, much to his family’s horror and against their objections. His family has always been super supportive of his lifestyle, so why were they so against his dating Will?

But when Will sees exactly how flamboyant and effeminate Rick is and Rick finds out exactly how much Will can “pass” as a heterosexual man, will the two of them be able to make a go of their relationship or is Rick too “super gay” for straight laced Will?

http://www.bookstrand.com/super-gay
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/mobile/details.html?pid=1186316&cat=145

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New Stuff

Okay folks,

You don’t hear much from me but I’m Lor, the trusty assistant thing. All the loveliness on this site is my fault. You’re welcome.

Anyway, I put up a Pre-Order page for your convenience in finding the latest things available from Vic. I’m also putting together a Coming Soon page for you, too.

The difference between the two pages is this:

Pre-Order = Cover, Blurb, Available for Pre-Purchase somewhere

Coming Soon = Cover, Blurb, projected release date (which is subject to change)

Any questions about something feel free to comment on this or email me at thelorofrose@gmail.com. You can also find me on my own website LorRose.com.

Now, I gotta go. I have shiz to write and releases to prepare for.

Tootles!

P.S. Man Candy….

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Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday: The Marriage Groups: Elian

Here is your Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday post from my (unedited) WIP (inspired by Cherie Noel and Dr. Porne) entitled: The Marriage Groups, Book One: Elian

 

Blurb:

Elian Glinkobia is the youngest son of his family. Born on the planet, Kardalusia, he is the only breeder, the only coração, born to a family full of Kartusian warriors and soldiers. He was born with no other purpose than to be the coração of a marriage group, there to serve them in every manner that they needed. Or so he thinks. Attending his final marriage soiree, Elian believes that he will not be picked by any marriage group and is destined to live his life alone, or as a prostitute. He is beyond shocked to find out that he was chosen by the royal marriage group the year before. He is to be the coração, the heart, of the three kings, Nevin, Corbin, and Gaige.

However, things are not always as easy as they seem. Before Elian can even settle into his position as The Royal Coração, someone attempts to murder him. Placed under lock and key in the palace by his husbands, Elian begins to discover that the gods of the Kartusians, gifted him with a lot more than he could have ever expected.

Will Elian’s special gifts come in handy when he needs them to save his husbands and their people, or was everyone right about his worthlessness?

 

Excerpt

Elian looked around the room and gritted his teeth against the moan that threatened to pour forth from his lips. It seemed as if he’d walked into every gay man’s fantasy. A room filled with sexy, muscled men, all looking for commitment. Elian should feel a little out of place. He was only 5’5″, the only black guy in the room and the only big muscle that he had was the one in his pants. He couldn’t believe how many men were there. His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed thickly in order to stop the drool from escaping his lips and spilling down his chin. He wanted to scream out that he was there, ready for someone, anyone, from one of the marriage groups to pick him, choose him, but from the group of fifteen unattached, marriageable men, it was only him and four of his friends left and he was the only one standing by himself.

He sighed in despair. His parents would be livid if he came home tonight. He was supposed to be chosen and married today. He was supposed to be grabbing his luggage from his room and going off with the three other men who would make up his marriage group. He was eighteen years old. Almost nineteen. And this was his fourth and final marriage soiree. If he wasn’t chosen tonight, he’d be forced into servitude, spinsterhood, or making his living as a prostitute. His fathers were already deeply upset with him because he’d been passed over three other times. Especially since he was the only one of their children not born as a soldier or a warrior or even as a doctor. Elian had been born as a breeder. That was it. His sole purpose in life was to lay on his back, his side, on his hands and knees and be fucked all day and night and give birth to more of the Kartusians.

He hadn’t asked to be born as a breeder. Hell, he hadn’t asked to be born into his family or as a Kartusian. It was a fucking luck of the draw. One that he was being punished for.

Looking around the room again, he sighed in despair. All the time that he’d spent gazing into nothingness and daydreaming and no one had approached him. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he been picked yet? He realized that all of his friends had been chosen and there were still four marriage groups left, none of which were even looking at him. Perhaps his dads had been wrong. Maybe he was a little too reminiscent of the females of their species that had died off over ten millenia before. Elian was aware that he was a lot smaller, thinner, his skin was a lot softer and his facial features a lot more pretty than any other Kartusian male in history. But once again, it was not his fault. It wasn’t as if he’d consulted with and pleaded for the God Alusia to make him this way. He hadn’t. Not at all.

At least, not that he knew of.

“So, why are you still here? I would have thought that you’d be off packing your bags, ready to leave with your marriage group,” the waiter standing next to him said as he placed his tray on the counter behind Elian.

Startled, Elian turned with a gasp to look up at the other man. The waiter was gorgeous. He stood about 6’1″ and had the most gorgeous pale green eyes that Elian had ever seen on a Kartusian before. So lost was he in the beauty of the man before him, that it took him a while to process exactly what he’d said.

“My what? I don’t have a marriage group,” Elian stated, hearing the sadness in his own voice. He glanced up at the clock, aware that in less than fifteen minutes the soiree would be over and he would once again be left alone. Though this time he would be alone and destitute.

The waiter looked confusedly down at him before pulling a picture out of his inner pocket. Showing the picture to him, Elian was amazed to see a picture of him from a year before.

“Isn’t this you?” the waiter asked.

Elian nodded before he responded. “Y-y-yes.”

Why the hell did the waiter have a picture of him from a year before? A picture that looked as if it were taken of Elian when he was unaware that he was being photographed. It looked like it was a picture of Elian walking to class, which was just…strange, who would want a picture of him, walking to class?

“Where the hell did you get this picture?” he asked the waiter, hoping that his voice didn’t sound as shaky and fearful as his insides felt.

“Why the new kings passed it out at the beginning of the soiree, letting everyone know that you were a part of their marriage group and were not to be approached with an offer,” the waiter said as if that explained everything.

It explained nothing,  however. Why the hell would the kings want him to be a part of their marriage group? And if that were true then where the hell were they?

As if his thoughts had conjured them, Elian gasped at the sight of the three kings, easily the tallest, broadest, strongest men in all of Kardalusia, walking through the door. As one they all turned towards him and made their way in his direction. Elian felt frozen in place. His eyes took in each of the three men. Nevin Cannington, the eldest of the three kings, the direct descendant of the previous kings, stood at 6′ 9″, had black hair that was trimmed close at the nape and sides, tapered to a slightly longer length on top, that rested at his ears, with gorgeous hazel brown eyes, had the widest grin on his face. He was dressed in a white royal suit, trimmed with gold embroidery, with a gold button up shirt underneath. His skin, which was deliciously tanned called to Elian and he found himself clenching his hands in order to prevent himself from reaching out to the older man who was at the very least, twenty years his senior. Corbin Dyer-Cannington, stood at 6’8″, just slightly shorter than Nevin, his brown hair hung in thick, luxurious waves to his shoulders, begging for Elian to run his slim fingers through them, while he too had hazel brown eyes, there seemed to be a spark of gold that flared in their depths when he looked at Elian. He was dressed in a white suit as well, though his was trimmed with blue embroidery and clung to his extremely muscled frame, though he wore no shirt beneath the suit, giving Elian a clear view of the tattoos that the other man had obtained during his training on Zarxion. Elian felt his cock thicken behind the slacks of his own black tuxedo pants, feeling a bit like a hobo next to the kings, his long black hair, that hung in black waves to his waist, suddenly feeling a lot heavier than it had just moments before. It was the sight of Gaige Nobriga-Cannington, however, the only king with a naturally caramel skin tone, that robbed Elian of his breath. Gaige’s 6’6″, thickly muscled frame screamed out danger to anyone who looked at him. His blond hair invited the curious to touch it, with its gloriously golden highlights and waves, it fell to just below Gaige’s shoulders. It was the sight of the scar on Gaige’s cheek that caused one to rethink their approach to him, however.

Elian had heard the story of the third king. Heard that he had “the sight”, that Gaige could see into the future. It fascinated him. Gaige was most assuredly a man who played by his own rules, dressed in a white suit, as was customary of royalty, he wore a red shirt beneath a black leather vest, underneath his suit jacket. On Gaige’s right wrist Elian saw a leather bracelet with diamond studs embedded within and a tattoo of a snake that wrapped itself around his left one. He felt himself shiver as the three kings all stopped before him, surrounding him in a semi-circle and he was distantly aware that every man in the room had knelt on one knee, showing honor to the monarchy. He knew that he should bow to his kings, that he should probably lay prostrate before them, but all he could do in that moment, was stare at them.

And hope he didn’t embarrass himself by begging them all to fuck him.

“You are ours Elian Glinkobia. Gather your belongings, you are now the coração of our marriage group,” King Nevin stated.

Man-oh-Man Monday: My College Roommate

Here is your Man-oh-Man Monday post entitled My College Roommate, not sure if it’s going to be an actual book or not, but we’ll see.

And the picture:

My College Roommate

Neil walked into the room and stared at me. I could tell by the hesitant look on his face that there was something that he wanted to say, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t saying it. I lifted my eyebrow at him and smirked.

“You got sumtin’ you need to say white boy?” I asked with the best imitation of a “hood boy” that I could come up with.

Neil choked out a laugh and shook his head at me.

“Give it up Emanuel, you will never be able to convince me that you are black. No matter how much you try,” he teased me.

It had been a longstanding joke between the two of us. Neil was Native American, though he knew next to nothing about his tribe, and I was African American, though I didn’t fit into the stereotype of being one. Neil was actually much more…ethnic, than I could ever hope to be and I knew more about Native American history and culture than he did. We complemented each other perfectly. Making up what the other one lacked in his own culture, but our relationship was strictly platonic. Even though we were both gay.

I’d met Neil my very first day at Berkeley College. He’d been standing outside of our dorm room, reading my name out loud, over and over, as if he were completely confused. I’d walked up behind him and started saying his name over and over again. When he’d turned to look at me, I felt as if someone had punched me right in the gut. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds, the air caught in my lungs and my cock got so hard that if anyone had touched it, it would have broken away from my body and crashed to the floor in a million pieces. Neil is fucking hot. With his tan skin and blue black hair, his wide grin and piercing dark brown eyes, I swear that I fell in love with him the very first time he looked at me.

I haven’t stopped loving him.

The problem is, Neil is learning about his heritage. He’s gone a spirit walk and has begun talking to a shaman about his soul’s mate. I’m pretty sure that his soulmate isn’t going to be some too-thin, nerdy black boy from Oakland. No matter how much I want it to be so. Besides, Neil didn’t find me attractive. Me, the one guy who spent most of his classes fending off the advances of some guy who was in the closet, just came out of the closet, or never knew that the closet ever existed, was not attractive to Neil. The one man that I actually wanted to be attractive to. Neil, the man who’d sleep with any man as long as he had a pulse and a cock…even if the cock lay in their bottom drawer. I didn’t know why Neil didn’t find me attractive. I didn’t know what I’d have to do to get him to see me as being attractive, but whatever it was, I’d probably already tried doing it. Now, three years after we met for the first time, looking ahead to our senior year, and living in the upper classmen co-ed dorms, I’d finally made the hardest decision of my life and decided to stop pursuing Neil. I’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to happen and that I needed to move on.

No matter how hard that was going to be.

Giving myself a mental shake, I returned to the present and grinned up at Neil when he paused beside my bed.

“Seriously. You look like you need to say something Neil, or ask me something,” I stated soberly, hoping that he would open up to me. Neil was my best friend and the thought of him hurting or needing something and not being able to tell me was like a punch to my guy. I swallowed thickly when Neil glanced down at me, his eyes darkening with some unexpressed emotion that I’d never seen in his eyes before. Was he angry with me? Was he hurting? What was wrong with him?

Sitting up and climbing up on my knees, I pulled Neil onto the bed with me, ignoring my rampant erection that screamed at me that we finally had Neil exactly where we wanted him.

“Neil? What’s wrong?” I asked.

Neil shook his head. He looked up at me through his thick lashes and I felt my breath catch in my chest again. I’d really never seenthat look before, Neil looked at me like he was hungry…for me. Like he wanted to…eat me or something. But eat me in a very delicious, very satisfying way…satisfying for the both of us.

“Nothing’s wrong Emanuel. It’s just that…Well…when you were taking a shower earlier, I sort of…you know,” Neil hedged, shrugging his shoulders shyly and while the look was absurdly cute on him, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why he was looking that way.

“You sort of what? Neil?” I asked him, trying to push him to open up and to tell me more.

I watched in fascination as my best friend’s face flushed red in embarrassment and I felt my new resolve to get over Neil crumble at my feet. Why in God’s name did he have to be so fucking gorgeous? I mean, I would think that in order to balance everything out, that if the Creator made him physically beautiful that He would ensure that Neil had the personality of a troll or a toad, but noooo Neil was both physically perfect and a really nice guy at the same time.

“Isawyounaked,” Neil said quickly, the words all running together.

It took me a while to decipher what he’d said but once I figured it out, I felt the cheeks of my own face burning and I knew that I was blushing too.

“Oh, sorry about that,” I apologized, not able to look at Neil when I said it.

“Nothing for you to be sorry for,” Neil assured me before clearing his throat. “The only thing is…well, I guess it was a little bit of a shock. I mean I know that we tease all the time, about you not being black and me being a white guy instead of Navajo Indian, but the thing is you are black and I am Navajo. So when I saw you naked, I just…I…” Neil blushed again.

I chuckled. Neil wouldn’t be the first one to mention this to me. People seemed to have an almost unrealistic opinion that all black men walked around with 13 inch cocks that were as wide as soda cans. First of all, there were some who were built like that, but not all black men. A lot of black men were more generously well-endowed than others, but that could be said for white men, Hispanic men, Native Americans, Asians, etc. And while I was by no means a peanut or a shrimp in the “Black Man Dick Department” or the BMDD, I didn’t have a cock that hung down to my knees like some other friends of mine.

“You didn’t expect me to be thin and only sporting a 7 inch dick huh?” I laughed at my friend’s bemused expression then shrugged. “Eh, it’s nothing to write home about, that’s for damn sure, but it does get the job done when I need it to. I think the biggest problem is that it’s not as pretty as some other cocks that I’ve seen, although my ex boyfriend Dontae seemed to think that it’s gorgeous.”

“Well, let me see and I’ll give you an honest opinion,” Neil offered and my mouth dropped open as my brain short-circuited. Did Neil just ask to see my dick? No! Of course not! He couldn’t have. Neil didn’t find me attractive, so he would have no interest whatsoever in seeing my cock.

“Wha-huh?” I asked stupidly.

I watched as Neil slowly stalked me across the bed his hand reaching out to grab the front of my blue checkered boxers as I tried to back away from him.

“I said, let me see your dick,” Neil said, his voice filled with amusement and…lust?

“Why would you want to see my dick?” I asked, ignoring said dick when it shouted at me to shut up, that we were in the middle of a fucking real life porno.

“Because I want to see if it’s really as gorgeous as your ex-boyfriend Dontae made it seem, plus I want to see if it tastes as good as he said as well,” Neil pointed out.

I was so stunned that I leaned back on one hand, stretching out my hand to grab Neil’s shoulder as he pulled back the front of my boxers and looked inside. I gasped as he chuckled low in his throat.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. I can’t wait to wrap my lips around that,” Neil stated before leaning over fully and doing just that. I keened loudly in my throat and felt the telltale shiver at the base of my spine as my best friend, the one man I thought didn’t find me attractive, deep-throated my cock. It was like getting my first blowjob all over again and I couldn’t last before I grabbed the back of his head with both of my hands and fucked his face quickly and with short, hard thrusts before shooting my sperm down his throat.

“OH SHIT! NEIL! HOLY FUCKING CHRIST ALMIGHTY!” I screamed out to the heavens, thanking every deity that I knew for this wonderful opportunity.

When I finally came back down to Earth, Neil was holding me in his arms, my head on his chest, as he rubbed my back with his hand with gentle strokes.

“Welcome back,” he chuckled.

“Smart ass,” I said back. The room got quiet as we both thought about what had happened, mulled over words that needed to be said. I knew that I wanted Neil. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath, but did he feel the same way? And if he did, did he want me enough to be with me forever, even if it meant giving up his quest to find his soulmate? And what would I do if he only wanted to be with me until he met his soulmate? Would I be okay with taking whatever time he could give me until he left my life for good? Just how much did I love him and how much did he love me, if he loved me at all?

Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday: Daddy’s Boy

Here is your Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday post from my novel: Daddy’s Boy.

And your warning: While this particular excerpt is not as dark and gritty as the rest of the book, this book is not for the faint of heart. This book deals with abuse, rape, prostitution, transgenderism, single parenting, sex slave trade, homosexuality, rent-boys, sex-for-hire, gold-diggers, paid companionship, men in the closet, men who cheat on their wives (adultery) and AIDS. I decided to break down barriers and cross lines….this book is truth in its grittiest of forms, but don’t worry romance, sex and a delightful happily-ever-after still await you at the end, but expect to have some war wounds by the time you finish, because the characters sure will.

If you’re still interested then please read on…….

-Vicktor Alexander

 

Daddy’s Boy

The sound of the multi-colored Venetian vase colliding with my white tiled floor caused every nerve in my body to jump.  More than just my body jumped at the sound, my heart leapt into my throat and I raced forward into my living room, falling to my knees, my hands reaching out desperately to grasp the sharp, jagged pieces of the priceless item.  I ignored the painful slices of the glass as the broken glass cut into my skin, I cared only for the remnants of this souvenir that reminded me so much of Jack.

Jack.  My breath caught in my throat.  My eyes burned with unshed tears and I inhaled shakily.  What the hell was I going to do without Jack?  I needed him.  More than I needed my next breath.  More than I needed to sleep or eat or do anything, I needed Jack.  I lowered my head, forcing back the tears, biting down on the inside of my cheek hard, the coppery taste of my own blood having no effect on my current state of mind.  I had to get up.  I had to get moving.  I absolutely had to go to this party tonight.  It wasn’t optional for me.  It wasn’t a suggestion.  It was a fucking requirement.  A need.  It was a goddamn law as far as I was concerned.  Jack had left me nothing.  My life ended the day I found out that he wouldn’t return to me again.  I had to go to this party and keep my life moving.  I had to keep my head above water somehow.  Jack wasn’t there to keep me lifted, so I had to lift my own damn head above this raging tide of bullshit.

With a sigh of frustration, I sat back on my heels before lifting myself gracefully to my feet.  I couldn’t even take pleasure in the knowledge that my dance and stripper classes had paid off so well.  I couldn’t care about those things.  I had to get ready.  I had to make myself beautiful.  I didn’t have much time.  I had to go and I had to go now.

I turned towards my kitchen, passing by all of the remaining knickknacks, treasures, expensive pieces of pure white furniture that lay professionally and artistically sprawled about my loft apartment.  I cared not about the rare paintings by Van Gogh or the priceless editions of works by Shakespeare or Chaucer.  These things were priceless, yes.  I was well aware of their monetary value.  I had catalogued each piece when Jack was still with me, but now?  Now they were only harsh memories and glaring reminders of what I was no longer in possession of.  They were priceless for a totally different reason now and I had to make sure that they were well-cared for, because if tonight didn’t go well…I gave myself a firm mental shake.  I wouldn’t even allow myself to go there.  Failure wasn’t an option for me.  I would be successful tonight.  I didn’t have a choice.

Having thrown away and cleaned up the broken pieces of the 2.5 million dollar vase, the cost of that one item punching me in the stomach like a hard fist, something I was extremely familiar with, I made my way upstairs to my master bathroom.  My feet were silent as I walked across the soft white carpet.  Usually I would be curling my toes into the thick, white carpet, a huge grin of delight on my face, happiness filling my being as I gloried in the sensation of the fiber beneath my feet, but there was no smile this evening.  Ice flowed through my veins.  My hands shook as I lifted my black eyeliner to the lid of my right eye and attempted to draw a straight line.

I was nervous and I hadn’t been nervous in years.  I was scared and fear was an emotion that I had long since choked the life out of and cast out of my entire existence.  The presence of these two emotions was daunting, unnerving and made me even more determined to make sure that tonight was a success.  I straightened my shoulders and exhaled, my eyes closing briefly as I centered myself.  Reigning in my runaway emotions and capturing every fucking butterfly that flapped its disgusting wings in my belly, I silently began chanting my mantra as I finished putting on my eyeliner and gloss, before returning to my bedroom to change.

I am beauty.  Beauty is me.  None can resist beauty and none can truly afford it.  But beauty can be earned through persistence and courage and a nice, fat wallet.  I chuckled silently as I remembered Jack’s expression of shock and then amusement the first time he’d heard me utter that mantra.  He hadn’t asked me questions, but I knew that I had to only utter those words to myself from then on.

Jack.  There it was again.  That same sickening feeling of dread filling my stomach with butterflies and my throat with nausea, causing my head to swim and my hands to shake.  I had to stop thinking of him, had to push Jack as far away from my mind as I possibly could if I planned on making tonight a success.  I had to focus on the goal, the finish line, the reason I was going out five days after Jack’s funeral.  A funeral that I wasn’t even allowed to attend.  This was a strategic move on my part.  But then again, everything had been a strategic move on my part, since the day that I turned seventeen.

I put one hand against my front door and put the other hand to my mouth, not recalling how I’d come to be back downstairs, completely dressed in a black button down shirt, white suit, slim white tie and black Italian loafers, trimmed in gold.  Shoes that Jack had bought me.  The last thing that he’d ever bought me.  I inhaled deeply and forced back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me and bring me to my knees.  I blinked back the unshed tears and reached for my trusty emotional guard.  I would need it this night.

With another deep inhale I picked up my wallet, apartment keys, car keys, gate access card, elevator key, and most important, a few condoms.  I had to make sure that I was prepared.  Prepared for any scenario, any play, any eventuality.  I walked out of my apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me and stepped towards the elevator.  I bit my lower lip nervously as my mind flashed with images of every possible occurrence, each one filling me with fear, hope, excitement and worst of all…shame.

What the hell was that about?

Stepping out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened into the lobby I walked slowly, seductively, purposefully towards the front entrance, nodding at all of those who said my name, hoping that they didn’t notice the fluttering of my pulse in my neck, nor the light sheen of sweat on my forehead.  When no one stopped me before I stepped out of the door, I knew then that Jack had been write about something else…again.

Jack had told me about faking confidence in front of people, about having the right shield up with different people.  Some needed the shield to keep them from prying in your life to gossip about you.  Some needed the shield to keep them from using the information that they gleaned against you.  But it was those last people, those horrible people that had so fully filled both him and Jack with an inexplicable surge of fear.  They were the people that you needed to have not only a shield against them but a moat, drawbridge and a fucking dragon, because they were the type of people who actually cared about you and what happened to you.

I didn’t need people in my life like that when Jack was still alive and I certainly didn’t need that type of person in my life now.  No, I had a plan.  I had a goal and nothing was going to stop me from meeting that goal.  Nothing.  It was how I got Jack, how I was so successful in every, single one of my previous goals and why I knew that my goal for tonight was going to go off without a hitch.

I smiled slightly at the doorman who watched me closely.  David Rush had never liked me.  He’d spent a fair amount of time telling me that I didn’t deserve Jack and that I was really just a gold digger.  The glares and condescending attitude was getting quite old and though I’d deny it even under threat of torture, it was all starting to hurt some small part of my heart, probably the only part that still existed, and it was making me angry and as if I wanted to cry.  Like failing, crying was also not an option.

“And how are you this evening Mr. Simpston?” David asked, not expecting a response from me, though he knew that I would give him one anyway.  David may hate me, but I hated him just as much.

I just nodded in answer, noticing the sneer that came to David’s face moments before he responded again.

“It’s such a horrible thing that happened to Mr. Binzington.  Isn’t it?  Have you decided if you’re going to stay here or move yet Mr. Simpston?” the doorman asked in a low voice and seeing that my taxicab was pulling around the corner, I squared my shoulders and hid my trembling hands into my pants pockets.  David would see my shaking hands as a sign of guilt, shame and fear.  He would only be a third correct.  I was fearful but not for the reason that he was thinking.  I was only fearful because of the unknown factors of the evening.  It was something that I would overcome.  Eventually.  I fiddled with the money in my pocket.  It was going to be $26.13 for me to take the cab to the home where the party was being held.  Giving a tip wasn’t necessary and in my case, it wasn’t my best option, nor even worthy of consideration, so I wouldn’t be giving one.

Stepping towards the awaiting cab I gave David a politely false smile and said, “I’m not going anywhere David.  I cared for Mr. Binzington, but I won’t have you trying to run me off because of it.”  With those words stated in a huff, I climbed into my red Ferrari and headed off towards the party.

Toward my date with destiny.

Toward the night that changed my life forever.