Release Day! Masochistic Tendencies

Well it’s the release day for Part Five of the BDSM serial romance, Deena and the Professor. As I stated in the original description, I’ll next be bundling Parts One through Five to offer in a bundled pack. That will come out at the end of March.

I’m afraid there will probably be a slowdown of releases now; I’m in the process of writing Part Six, and things have gotten rather crazy. But fear not; this serial will be finished. I’m still hoping for Six to be released some time in April. Part Seven? That may be more like in June. On the good side? Part Five is the longest episode yet, at about 10,500 words, and a full BDSM scene with caning and whips. Enjoy!

Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Masochistic-Tendencies-Alpha-Romance-Professor-ebook/dp/B01CID8D0K/

Deena Five v1 copy 400 x 600

Description:

On her first day of college, Deena met the man of her dreams—her Psychology professor! He took control of her fantasies, showed her HARD DISCIPLINE, captured her FIRST EXPERIENCE and made a contract with her to teach her all the ways of submission and domination.

Each step into her sexual journey, Deena found she wanted more and more. Professor Alexander Sturm captured both her body and her heart. But this is only supposed to be a casual affair. Deena doesn’t want it to end. She’s falling for him, and hard.

Now she has a problem. In class, he ignores her. Is this a test? Or is she beginning to lose thing she wants most? Deena has to figure out a way to make him want to keep her. Permanently. Even if it means risking PAIN and PUNISHMENT at his favorite BDSM club.

EXCERPT:

On Monday morning, Deena still felt tender and sore from the things her Psychology professor had done to her over the weekend.

This time when she shifted her seat in class, it was because she swore she could still feel his cock in her ass, his mouth on her breasts. Yet her sexual training had done something else. Gone were her nerves and her guilt. She felt amazing, with more confidence than she’d ever had in her life.

It was all thanks to Professor Alex Sturm, a German immigrant in his thirties, with hair that was nearly black and eyes that were startlingly blue. He had on a blue shirt today with black slacks, and he seemed cool and at ease, going over the syllabus for the week, talking about personality disorders.

Sunday he’d nearly kissed her. Almost.

As he talked about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Deena narrowed her eyes at him, doodling in her notebook. You’re going to make me yours. You just don’t want to say it yet. If he wanted to be all noble and stuff, saying that she needed to experiment with other guys before committing to anything, that was fine. He could think that all he liked. Deena, however, knew how she felt. She’d been waiting a long time to meet someone like Alex Sturm, professor or no. She liked the air of authority he had over her, particularly as her teacher, both at the university and in the bedroom. But she wasn’t fooling herself. She’d like his air of authority even without those connections.

Deena yearned to be his girl. His naughty, submissive little girl.

“And that is why students must be careful in trying to diagnose either themselves or their friends, as they read this text. Because all men are narcissists at heart. That doesn’t mean they have NPD, however.” Professor Sturm’s words startled Deena out of her thoughts, and she could have kicked herself. She’d lost focus once again, and her notes were in shambles. She’d have to read the chapter extra closely now.

“Please write a five page paper on the personality disorder of your choosing, together with references on current research regarding that disorder and your reasoning for why you picked that particular topic. Papers will be due Friday,” Professor Sturm announced, and the bell rang, signaling the end of the class period.

As she gathered up her papers, Deena’s hands shook. Should she try to talk to him today? Or just let things be, and see if he’d approach her? This was getting confusing. On the one hand, she wanted to please him, but she didn’t want to come across as desperate.

On the other hand, she was desperate. A look, a touch, a smile; any of it would be good right now.

Deena moved slowly, giving the other students plenty of time to exit the classroom, her heart beating fast and her skin on fire, waiting to see if he’d call her name or walk over.

He didn’t. She heard the door to the back offices open and close, and when she looked up, he was gone.

Pain tore through her chest. Deena told herself it was all just part of the act; nobody could know that they were anything but teacher and student. Yet still it felt like a betrayal. She’d knelt on the kitchen floor in punishment for him. She’d allowed him to strap her into a sex sling and pour hot wax on her and stick ice up her cunt. Somehow, it seemed she deserved a little more consideration.

As Deena headed out of the classroom, she thought furiously about her next move. She looked down at her clothing, wondering if it was too demure or too young. He was several years older, after all, and one of the reasons he was holding back was because of their age difference. What if he saw her in a more mature outfit? Perhaps with her hair up?

Sexy and sophisticated, she thought. Yes, perhaps I first grabbed him with the young and sex-crazed, but to keep him, I’ll have to alter things a bit. Men always want what they can’t have, right?

She managed to get her assignment from one of her classmates, and forced herself not to visit his office, not to call him, not to do anything until the next class session on Wednesday. Besides, he had mentioned having some kind of special reading assignments for her, which he’d get to sooner or later. She didn’t want to look quite so desperate and available.

#

On Wednesday, she wore her hair pinned up, with a sexy silk top with a plunging neckline and a scoop back. She sat in the back rather than her usual spot in the second row, and chatted animatedly with some of the frat boys who were also taking the class, ignoring the Professor entirely.

Deena actually managed to pay attention in class, mostly because she had something to prove. Yes, she couldn’t help but think about Professor Sturm’s thick cock penetrating her every time he turned her way. And yes, his blue eyes were still just as devastating, and her first instinct was to grovel at his feet. But nope. Not today.

If he seemed bothered by her aloofness, he didn’t show it. The Professor was as charming as always, even going so far as to make a few jokes about their Narcissism assignments. She turned hers in, wondering what he’d think of it. No, she hadn’t added anything sexy. She understood he needed to take his job seriously, and she wasn’t about to jeopardize that. But there was some spice in the words she’d chosen for certain things, if he cared to read between the lines.

He’s testing my patience. Just like he tested me in the swing. For Deena, it was the only explanation for the professor’s standoffish behavior. By the end of class, she was sweating in her blouse, on fire with the need to touch him, to speak with him. Was he really going to be such an asshole to not keep her updated? She didn’t even know when her next date with him would be, or what she’d be learning!

When the bell rang, again Deena made a little show of packing up, giving him time to approach her. The worst thing about all this was that her body was used to having sex with him now, and her pussy was on fire, making it difficult to concentrate. Wasn’t that the problem she’d first come to him to solve? It was so much worse now, however.

Deena couldn’t help glancing over at Professor Sturm to see if he was going to leave for his office again.

Their eyes met. Deena thought she saw just the faintest glimmer of amusement in the professor’s eyes.

Then he turned away.

Deena clenched her fists, and screamed silently inside her head. That was on purpose! He knew she was waiting for his next words, that he’d awoken a fire in her that only he could extinguish. This was pure torture for the fun of it!

Once again, there were two options. She could try to ignore him back. But what good would that do, really? He was already proving to be better at this game.

Deena stood and walked over to him, making sure not to slouch, and to use all her body’s attributes. She pressed her breasts up against him brazenly, glaring at him. “Professor? Can I ask you a question?”

Was that a smile on his face? How dare he smile! And how dare her body betray her—her nipples were already hardening, her pussy growing wet. “Yes, Ms. Hancock? How can I help you today?” There wasn’t a trace of that heated intensity in his voice that he used when they were alone. Aloof and cool, yes, that was Professor Sturm today.

Deena saw red. “I believe we have some unfinished business that we need to schedule.” She was proud of the fact she could speak coherently, even professionally. She backed off a step, but kept up her “attack” by rubbing at her throat, letting her hand trail down to tug at her shirt and reveal even more bosom. There was something exciting and powerful about this game. Two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have dared confronting someone like this.

Professor Sturm was grinning now, standing with his arms crossed. “I see. A matter of some urgency, I take it.”

Couldn’t he just come out and say something? Or give her a note? Deena realized she was panting, she was so angry. “Yes. I believe you mentioned tutoring.” If this was a test on seeing if she could act like a normal student around him, then she thought she should get an A. All she wanted to do right now was tear open his trousers and start sucking on his cock. It didn’t matter where they were.

“Mm, yes. I believe I have some time on Friday. You know how to contact me.” Professor Sturm gathered up his papers. “Have a nice day, Miss Hancock.” With that, he headed back to his office.

Deena counted to ten, and then to twenty. She had half a mind to follow him, but she still had the feeling this was some kind of test. “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath. Friday, fine. She’d finger herself like crazy tonight, just to spite him. Maybe it wouldn’t be as good as the naughty things he’d been doing to her lately. But she’d be damned if she was going to just chase after a man who didn’t even act like he wanted her.

Even though she still wanted him like crazy.

Guest Post: New Release by Heloise West!

Today I’m  recommending this latest book from my fellow workshop writer, Heloise West, who is the most awesome critiquer ever. I’ like to add that I plan to grab this one, because it sounds right up my alley.

If I Were Fire by Heloise West

Dreamspinner Press September 16, 2015

IfIWereFireFS

In 18th century Siena, Count Salvesto Masello has returned home to find the family villa and his father’s estate steeped deeply in debt. In order to save it, he has been selling off valuable family heirlooms, but he is running out of silverware. Somewhere in the villa his deceased father had hidden the art treasures that will pay the debt, but Salvesto can’t find them anywhere.

Amadeo Neruccio has been on the run from the vicious pimp, thief, and pawnbroker Guelfetto, but his toughs finally catch him and bring him to the cellar where Count Masello is selling off his silver. When the count learns what fate Guelfetto has in store for Amadeo, he intervenes and trades the last of his mother’s dowry for the young man’s freedom.

Salvesto had left home over ten years ago to live the life of adventure he craved. He had also hoped to leave his broken heart behind. When he rescues young Amadeo, he does not expect to find love again, or that his adventures had yet to end.

Excerpt:

Seated in the shade of the loggia attached to the surgeon’s house, Amadeo waited for the conte, barely able to think for the pain in his body. Bone-deep pain, like a bad tooth. He sighed, but his breath hitched like an uneven stitch.

“Nerrucio.”

He jumped at the sound of his former lover’s voice. Glancing around, he espied Barone Malavolti standing in the narrow street beneath a chestnut tree a few arm lengths away; his expression was a mask of boredom, though he stood there without his hat, a little breathless and pink-cheeked. Leaning on a silver-tipped cane he did not need, he had dressed today in a beautiful dark gray velvet jacket and the long pale blue waistcoat beneath it embroidered with bright flowers, all held together with small ebony buttons. His creamy white linen shirt and cravat were spotless. All that fine cloth hid a mercurial character and a whippet-lean body that contained a fierce strength. Glossy black hair, brown eyes, and a slightly round, handsome face, the dark circles under his tired eyes spoke of a long night of debauchery. Amadeo turned quickly away, angry and embarrassed all at once.

“Don’t ignore me.”

“No, Barone.” Amadeo stood.

“I wanted to make sure you were—not dead, as someone said, murdered in Guelfetto’s cellar or sent off to Florence to pay your debt.” His clipped tone made Amadeo wince.

“It was never my debt!” He lowered his voice. “I came to you for help, but you did not believe me. He told everyone that I agreed to lose the race for payment. You believed that bandit over me.” Amadeo swallowed back his disappointment. “Me. Your bad habit.” It was terribly rude, but he had to sit in the shade and close his eyes, as the hot, bright sun pierced his skull and made his head pound even harder. To his surprise, Malavolti followed to stand beneath the loggia with him. Encouraged by that, Amadeo whispered, “You said you loved me, but you lied. How is what you think I have done worse than that?”

Malavolti said, “I am not a liar. And only a poet would see that as a crime.”

Amadeo truly wanted to shake the barone until his teeth rattled, but restrained himself. “Guelfetto had sold me to a bathhouse in Florence to whore for those stinking pig-dogs until I die. Conte Masello has rescued me. I do not need you anymore.”

Malavolti flinched. “What has Conte Masello to do with all this, Neruccio?”

“He was there….” Amadeo stopped and considered his words. Malavolti need not know the conte was there selling his mother’s silver plates. “He took pity on me when I said I would give myself to the Arno and paid my debt to Guelfetto.”

“Paid your price, you mean.”

Stubborn, prideful man! To think he wept at the lines I wrote for him and him alone. He believed me then, at least. Perhaps the new one in his bed has left him, and left him bitter.

“We have a bond agreement,” Amadeo said wearily. “I’m to be the new groom for the stables. At least I’ll be with the horses.”

“Ah, my poor poet,” Malavolti mocked. “Poor Cecco. ‘But to show wisdom’s what I never could. So where I itch, I scratch now.’”

A pet name for the famed Sienese poet of a long dead age, Cecco Angiolieri, and the old lines fell upon Amadeo’s ears like a slap. Malavolti had encouraged and supported his own poetic lines at one time, but no more. “If you do not believe me still, be gone, Gianni. No one torments me as much as I do myself, so you waste your time.” His grieving heart forced him to continue the lines: “‘I’m down, and cannot rise in any way; For not a creature of my nearest kin/Would hold out a hand that I could reach….’”

Except for one man.

The door to the house creaked open, and Malavolti turned away, continuing on his path up the street as if they had never spoken.

About the author:

Heloise West, when not hunched over the keyboard plotting love and mahem, dreams about moving to a villa in Tuscany. She loves history, mysteries, and romance of all flavors. She travels and gardens with her partner of 10 years, and their home overflows with books, cats, art, and red wine.

Social Media:

Dreamspinner: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/AuthorArcade/heloise-west

Blog: https://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heloise.west.1

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Email: heloisewest@hotmail.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/velvetpanic

Tumblr: http://heloisewest.tumblr.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8188216.Heloise_West

Preorder links:

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon.com

Kobo US

Barnes and Noble

Google Play

All Romance Ebooks

Guest post: Heather C. Leigh

 resist it's live

resist blog tour

Meet Gavin in Heather’s newest M/M standalone romance!

NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1GuqFq1

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1CQKs88

iBooks: http://apple.co/1DzOfHo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1HvCMnv

resist 5

Blurb

All Gavin Walker, bass player for the multi-platinum selling band, Sphere of Irony, wants to do is surf, play music, and occasionally get laid. The problem is that Gavin has a stalker. A potentially deadly one. The threats he receives always mention something about Gavin being gay, which isn’t public knowledge since the record label wants to keep it quiet.

Mitch Hale used to track serial killers for the FBI. A live-changing incident led him to quit the bureau and start his own company providing computerized security for Los Angeles’ wealthiest people. Mitch doesn’t know anyone when he moves across the country from D.C. to California, and all he has for companionship is a pathetic string of failed relationships with women.

When Gavin’s manager hires Mitch to find the stalker, the men instantly hate each other. Despite the constant fighting, attraction between the two blazes hot, confusing the former FBI agent. Spending time with Gavin forces Mitch reflect on what he’s denied about himself for the last ten years. Listening to Mitch’s plan to catch a madman thrusts Gavin’s personal life out in the open for the entire world to see.

Can Gavin and Mitch stop fighting long enough to stop a stalker before someone gets hurt? Or will they stubbornly resist the feelings that develop when they’re forced to work together?

This is book 3 in a 4 part series. It is a spin-off of the Famous Series. These can be read as standalones.

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Excerpt #1 :  Gavin Meets Mitch

Before I can ask any more questions, there’s a knock and the door opens a crack. “Mr. Evans, Mr. Hale is here.”

“Send him in please, Donna.” Ross stands and adjusts his suit, straightening out the cuffs and fixing his expensive tie until it lays just so.

I rake a hand over my hair, but it’s pointless. I’m lucky I bothered to shower this morning after my company left. I’m sure I look like shit—with the lack of sleep and the constant stress I’m surprised I don’t look worse.

Good genes, I guess. I frown at the thought of my father.

I can hear Donna outside. “Go right on in.”

The door opens and a man enters. No, not just a man. A gorgeous man. Stunning, actually. For the second time in five minutes, my jaw hangs open.

The man is a study in opposites. His hair, swept back from his face and so dark it’s nearly black, is paired with bright slate grey eyes, a color I’ve never seen before. He looks rugged and dangerous, as if he could kill a man with his bare hands. Yet he’s wearing a tailored and expensive charcoal grey suit that showcases his body to perfection. He’s rough and he’s polished.

And I can’t stop staring.

“Mr. Hale, thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”

Ross has circled the table and is shaking the man’s hand.

“Call me Mitch, please.”

Jesus, even his voice is hot. Deep and silky, it’s as smooth as fine whiskey.

“This is Gavin Walker,” Ross introduces me, stepping aside.

It takes both of them staring at me and an uncomfortably long silence for me to realize I’m still gawking. Embarrassed, I snap my mouth shut.

“Sorry.” Jumping up from my chair, I extend a hand. “Gavin Walker. Thanks for coming.”

He clasps his hand around mine, large and hot and coarse, and pumps it firmly. “Mitch Hale, good to meet you. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

He smiles and I have the sudden urge to rub myself all over his beautiful, hard body. Heat spreads up from our joined hands, sending a flush of pleasure over my skin.

Mitch clears his throat and glances down where I’m still clutching his hand. Shit. I let go, flinching back in humiliation. I jam my hand into the pocket of my jeans, fingering the smooth, heart-shaped stone I keep there.

“Let’s sit.” Ross directs Mitch to the conference table. “Drink?”

Mitch holds up a hand. “I’m good.” I catch the slightest twitch in one of Mitch’s intriguing eyes.

“Okay. Here is the file we have so far.” Ross pushes a folder across the table.

Mitch opens it, scanning the contents. Waiting for him to read about the stalker that’s been harassing me is humiliating, yet it gives me a chance to study the man further. I should resist staring, but I can’t. He’s too gorgeous to ignore.

I flick my gaze over to Ross, who is busy returning emails on his laptop. Good. I don’t want Ross to catch me ogling the new guy. When my eyes land back on Mitch, I have to hold in a groan.

This guy is trying to kill me.

As he flips through the pages in the file—photos, descriptions, police reports—the end of his very wet, very pink tongue pokes out between his lips. Every once in a while, it sneaks back in so he can pull that lush red bottom lip between his teeth, biting on it in concentration.

Jesus. As subtly as I can, I shift on the chair to adjust the semi pressing against my pants.

More contradictions. That tongue, the biting of the lip, both so playful and innocent against the serious image he projects with the suit and the perfectly styled hair and the—I inhale deeply—hint of designer aftershave.

Suddenly, Mitch closes the folder and sits up, folding his hands on top of it. I jerk away, sitting back in my chair instead of leaning halfway over the table like a besotted teenage girl.

“This man is not to be taken lightly,” he cautions, his intelligent gaze traveling back and forth between Ross’ and mine.

Ross closes his laptop, giving Mitch his full attention. “We’re not taking it lightly. Gavin has security with him at all times since the…” Ross glances at me, “the incident in New York.”

“And before that?” Mitch asks. I stare at the hard line of his jaw then drop my eyes down to the curve of his throat where it disappears into the top of his crisp dress shirt. I pray that he doesn’t see the way my hands shake or the heat prickling my face as lust washes over me.

“Before that we weren’t documenting anything we received, just throwing them away. They were mostly letters, gifts…” Ross trails off.

“But no involvement by law enforcement?”

My eyes bounce back and forth between the two men.

Ross sighs. “Not until the New York incident.” When Mitch scowls, a look that makes him look even more dangerous and a hell of a lot sexier, Ross elaborates. “Do you know how many crazy fans are out there? Hell, Adam gets over a hundred bizarre gifts and letters a week. That’s just the strange ones. Plus, keeping this out of the media is important to the record label.”

Mitch nods. “I understand. I’m not judging. I’m just trying to get a feel for what I’ll be dealing with. That includes how long law enforcement has been checking into this guy.”

“Not long,” I whisper, surprised to hear myself speak. I’m used to being discussed as if I’m not in the room. It comes with the job—decisions made for you without your input.

Two sets of eyes focus on me and I feel my cheeks blaze hot. That intense grey stare has me squirming, and this time it’s not from embarrassment. Another rush of heat ripples down my spine. I run my hands through my hair to catch the beads of sweat that have popped up on my temples.

Mitch opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut. He blinks a few times before speaking. “Tell me how this began, Gavin. What you’ve noticed personally.”

“Shit, how long do you have?” I scoff.

The corner of Mitch’s mouth quirks up. “I have time.” He puts two fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugs gently.

The subtle motion brings images of Mitch tearing off his clothes, sending another wave of sizzling need through me. Nodding, I take a sip of water to cool down the desire inspired by Mitch’s proximity.

Ross’ cell phone rings, startling me. I fumble with the glass, nearly spilling it.

“Damn. Sorry.”

This time, Mitch smiles. My eyes fixate on that mouth as his lips part to reveal two rows of perfect teeth.

“I have to take this,” Ross confesses. He glances over. “You okay to do this without me?”

No. I’m not okay. You’re going to leave me in a room with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen while I’m a nervous, blundering wreck.

That’s what I’m thinking. What I say isn’t even close.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Ross stares at Mitch. “I’ll be back to discuss the specifics of your contract.”

“No problem,” Mitch agrees. Leaning back in his chair, he crosses one ankle over his knee.

Holy—

Now he’s given me a direct view of his crotch, hugged tight by those tailored grey slacks. There’s a lot to look at. Jesus. If what I’m seeing isn’t an illusion, he is hung. I don’t realize that I’m staring right at Mitch’s dick until his leg drops and he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

Blinking, I look up to see those deep gunmetal eyes waiting patiently for me to respond.

“Ummmm, I’m not nervous.”

I am, but not for the reasons you think.

Mitch puts his large hands back up on the table, his eye twitching again. “Do you mind if I get a drink?” He gestures towards the tray Donna set out.

“Not at all.”

“So,” he continues as he removes his jacket, hangs it over his chair, and circles the table. “Tell me about the letters.”

Mitch picks up a mug, turning his back to me to prepare his coffee. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his perfect, round ass showcased by the tight grey fabric that clings to every curve.

“Gavin?”

I can’t do this here with him. Alone. With that ass, those eyes, and the scent of whatever cologne he’s wearing. My brain won’t function properly while bombarded from all sides by filthy sexual fantasies starring Mitch.

“I-I forgot. I have somewhere to be.”

Jumping up, I catch a surprised expression on Mitch’s face right before I bolt out the door.

resist teasere 3

Mitch dresses down for Gavin’s public appearance.

I catch the tail end of Gavin’s conversation and come down the stairs in time to see him hang up his phone.

“I need to discuss something with you in the car,” I mention as I hit the bottom step.

Gavin whirls around and chokes at the sight of me. His eyes bug out of his head like a cartoon character and his mouth drops open. Then… he bursts into laughter. The little shit. Honest to god, full belly, tears-in-his-eyes laughter.

“What?” I snap. If he hadn’t started laughing I would have sworn I saw desire on his face when I came down the stairs. Hell, his tongue practically rolled out of his mouth.

“W-what on earth? I-I mean…” The laughter continues.

I cross my arms and scowl, waiting for him to stop acting like a brat. “Are you done?”

Gavin wipes his eyes. “I don’t know, Mitch. What the hell?” He points at me, waving his hand up and down my body. “What are you wearing?”

I scoff. “We’re going to be late. Can I catch you up in the car?” Annoyed at the fact that Gavin is still giggling like a schoolgirl, I snatch my keys off the foyer table and stomp outside to wait on the front step.

“Oh god,” he whispers in a husky voice as he follows behind me.

“What?” I yell, whirling around until we’re nose to nose. I know I’m being unprofessional, but I can’t help myself. He’s being such a dick. “Am I too embarrassing to be seen with? Am I not good enough for the perfect Gavin Walker?”

“No!” Gavin responds to my accusations, holding up a hand to keep me from crashing into him.

I pull back, still furious. “I need to lock the door,” I snarl.

“Jesus, Mitch. What the fuck?” Gavin backs away from the door, heading towards the car.

I shouldn’t care what he thinks. This is work.

After locking up and pulling the car out of the driveway, I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

“Sorry for yelling,” I say at the same time Gavin mumbles, “Sorry for laughing.”

“Christ,” I chuckle. “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So,” I can see Gavin check out my clothing again from the corner of my eye. “What is with the outfit?”

“Is it that bad?” I ask, biting my bottom lip as I glance over at all six feet plus of beautiful blonde man reclining in the passenger seat.

“No! Not at all. I’m just not used to seeing you like…this,” he says, waving his hand at my clothes again.

“Like what?”

Here we go again. I’m getting all offended. And why? Because he doesn’t like my clothes? Why the hell do I care?

Gavin lets out a long, tortured breath. “All sexy, okay? Shit.” He looks out the side window, hiding his face. I see a crimson blush spread over the one visible cheek and ear.

“Oh.” I grin. “So I’m sexy?” I tease. That explains his mixed reaction.

Gavin barks out a laugh, still staring out the passenger window. “Yeah, like you don’t know that.”

He thinks I’m sexy? For some reason that has me inherently pleased. More pleased than I should be but hell, it’s not everyday you get your ego stroked by a rock star. A gorgeous one at that.

Aaaaand, I shove that right back into the nifty little space in my brain that’s storing up all the thoughts I want to deny ever having.

It’s getting crowded in there.

I clear my throat. “Honestly, the outfit is because I just couldn’t bear the thought of even one more day in a damn suit and tie.” I shudder. Gavin tilts his head in my direction. He’s listening, so I continue. “I felt like I was choking to death. It was too much like being back at the bureau. I just…Let’s just say I didn’t want any reminders of my time there, okay?”

“What does that mean, then? If you aren’t my bodyguard, and you aren’t management, who are you?” Gavin asks.

I force a grin on my face, feeling like I might just twitch right out of my skin. Gavin might not be pleased with my solution.

“I’m your date.”

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Incite (Book One) The Sphere of Irony Series

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1ALgfkw

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1dNhavT

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1GTREwg

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1ImHvOr

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Google Play: http://bit.ly/1ImHM3N

Strike (Book Two) The Sphere of Irony Series

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1HaMtNW

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1HaMTE2

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Gp8DfF

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1APfX1J

About the Author:

Heather C Leigh

After growing up in New England, I currently live just outside Atlanta, GA.

I love the Red Sox and hate the Yankees.

I love hot, sexy romance novels, but hate long, drawn out misunderstandings as a plot line.

I love book series, but hate cliffhangers.

I love alpha males, but hate when they borderline on abusive.

Mostly? I love love love chocolate.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Guest Post: Dean Pace Frech, Disappear With Me

Disappear With Me Spotlight Post & Giveaway June 14-21

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I am happy to announce that the Second Edition of Disappear With Me is available from Amber Quill Press!

Blurb:

Love is greater than hope or faith, but can Reverend Leander Norris convince a jury that the love he shares with another man is natural?

In 1910, the United Kingdom was in turmoil. King Edward died after only nine years on the throne. The social class system that upheld British society for centuries was being chipped away by social, political, and economic unrest across the Commonwealth. Amidst this backdrop, Reverend Leander Norris is accused of sodomy. After discovering his own self-worth and unconditional love, Leander finds the courage to stand up for what he believes is right and pleads not guilty to the charges. Throughout the trial, Leander’s past is revealed, including the temptations that bring the accusations against him. By the end of the trail, Leander is once again reunited with a romantic interest from the past, but it may be too late to rekindle any love that might remain, given the circumstances of the era and Leander’s likely sentence.

Excerpt:

“Are you not a scholar?” Weeks asked. “Do you not know the Bible that you preach from each Sunday?”

“I know it very well,” Leander answered. “But the Bible has many interpretations. I think you can guess that mine might be a little less than conventional.”

Weeks reclined back in his chair. He made a steeple with his fingers and rested them on his pursed lips. “You’re actually sitting here telling me that, as a man of God, you’re all right with buggery and feel you’ve done nothing wrong?”

“Mr. Weeks, do you realize you keep asking me the same question over again, using different words?”

“As your counsel, I need to be sure that I understand your position, the one you expect me to defend.”

“You sound shocked that I would suggest such a thing. I can’t have you defending me if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Reverend, my beliefs about the situation are irrelevant; it doesn’t matter what I believe. I need to be able to defend our position in court and hope our defense can refute what the prosecution will present.”

“I have to have conviction in my sermons each Sunday morning. I think you also know you need to have conviction when defending your clients.”

“And I can assure you that I have that same conviction to make sure that you receive a fair trial. I will do my best—”

“Do your best to what? Go through the motions and make sure that the I’s are dotted and the T’s are crossed so it looks like I’ve been given a good defense?”

Weeks didn’t answer and that was all the answer that Leander needed. After a moment, Weeks tried to start again. “Look, Reverend, I am your assigned counsel for this trial. I am on your side. I want to see you get a fair trial, but you must understand what we’re up against is quite overwhelming.”

“I know; I’ve never done anything the simple way.”

“Sir, you must understand that we are going up against laws that are rooted in two thousand years of Christian tradition and about as many years of British attitude.”

“Mr. Weeks, do you love your wife?”

Weeks let out an impatient sigh. “Of course, but here you go asking intimate questions about me that have no bearing on my defending your case.”

“Humor me, sir. Do you love your wife?”

“Yes, I very much love my wife and family.”

“What if you woke up tomorrow and a constable showed up on your doorstep and arrested you because they said the love you share with your wife was illegal?”

Weeks didn’t answer him. Instead, in a quiet voice, he said, “You know you and I are just two people. We’re not going to change these laws overnight.”

Buy Links:

Amber Quill Press

All Romance eBooks

OmniLit

Search “Disappear With Me” or “Dean Pace-Frech” on your other favorite sites to purchase romance books, Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, iTunes, etc.

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About Dean Pace-Frech

With inspiration from historical tourism sites, the love of reading, and a desire to write a novel, Dean started crafting his debut novel, A Place to Call Their Own, in 2008. After four years of writing and polishing the manuscript, it was accepted and originally published 2013. His second novel, Disappear With Me, set in Edwardian England was published later that same year. Both novels were re-released in May 2015.

Dean lives in Kansas City, Missouri with his husband, Thomas (legally as of February 14, 2015), and our two cats. They are involved in their church and enjoy watching movies, outdoor activities in the warmer weather and spending time together with friends and family. In addition to writing, Dean’s hobbies include reading and patio gardening.

Dean is currently working a standalone title, Need Your Love, set in 1966, and The Higher Law, a continuation of the story of Frank and Gregory’s family set in the 1930s.

Connect with Dean Pace-Frech

Email deanfrech@aol.com

Blog:  Dean’s Web Site

Facebook:  Dean Pace-Frech, Author page or send a friend request Dean Pace-Frech.

Twitter: @deanpacefrech

Google+: +deanpacefrech

Goodreads: Dean Pace-Frech

Pinterest:  Dean Pace-Frech

Giveaway:

In celebration of the wide release of Disappear With Me, I will be giving away 3 Ecopies of my first novel, A Place to Call Their Own, which is available from JMS Books.  Comment, follow me on Twitter, visit my author page, etc. to enter to win!

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Guest Post: Mechanically Inclined, by Jena Wade

Today I’m featuring one of the wonderful writers of the writing critique group I belong to: Jena Wade! She has a new release out (released May 25) from Liquid Silver Books, which already has a five star review on Amazon!  The details are below:

Amazon link:  Mechanically Inclined

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Blurb:

Cal Foster has sworn off men. He is never going to date anyone again, ever. But as the saying goes, never say never, because Josh Gibson isn’t just anyone. Jena Wade brings you all the passion you could hope for in her hot, new contemporary romance, Mechanically Inclined.

Excerpt:

Josh rolled up the sleeves on his teal dress shirt and flipped his tie over his shoulder. He took a deep breath. This needed to go fast if he was going to show up on time. Was there a certain way to take the bolts off? He couldn’t remember. It’d been a long time since he’d actually had to do this. It looked easy enough.

Ten minutes later, Josh had four of the five lug nuts off. The last one was causing him trouble. He placed the tire iron on the bolt and pulled with as much strength as he had left in him. It didn’t budge.

“Need some help with that?”

“Christ!” Josh let go of the iron and landed on his butt in the dirt. “Holy hell, man. Where’d you come from?” Maybe it was because Josh was on his back, but the guy looked huge. He loomed over him. A full dark beard covered his face, and his white button-down shirt stretched tight across his wide chest and muscular arms.

Did he hit his head when he fell? His dream man stood before him. Josh had been looking for the perfect man all his life. What were the odds that Mr. Right would show up on a country road in the middle of a cornfield?

Preview of things to come

My personal life has been kinda shitty lately, so I’ve just been focusing on writing. I’m very close to done on editing my first M/M novel, Murder One, which I’ll be sending out to traditional publishers. While I enjoy self-publishing some of my titles, I like the working with editors and marketing/promotions push that a good publisher can bring. I feel very fortunate that in the world of gay romance, there are quite a few to choose from.

So today I have for all my blog readers the first chapter from the book to enjoy. I’ll soon be working on the next book, after I finish the sequel to my short story “The Foreman.”

Derwin

Chapter One

A Terrible Night

Derwin Bryant never quit in a chase.

A light rain fell on the streets of the city of Nis, making the neon lights of the local porn shops and drugstores into pretty reflections on the asphalt. Derwin avoided a puddle as he ran down an alley, narrowly avoiding an overturned trash can. He grimaced at the smell of rotting food and old beer, wishing his heightened senses blocked unpleasant things like that. Up ahead, the alley was a dead end. No way that ol’ Jack was going to escape this time.

Continue reading

Claimed by Love by Skye Jones

I’ve got another promotion today, this time for another “House of Manlove” Yahoo M/M critique group member. Check out Skye Jones’s latest release!

Claimed By Love:

Release Date 22/12/14

Buy at Liquid Silver Books: http://www.lsbooks.com/pre-order-coming-soon-romance-books-c322.php

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Blurb: Kayley Edwards has spent the last four years closing herself off after a vicious attack by her lover left her scarred and terrified. After fleeing her native Alaska, she ran the length of the country and began a new life in Miami far from her family and friends.

When her cousin and his friends decide to vacation nearby, he invites her to join them, saying he has important news. Determined not to let fear rule her life, Kayley agrees to meet with them, only to have her world turned upside down. His friends include the two gorgeous men who’ve haunted her dreams for months, kindling her desire, and challenging her to take a chance on love.

Pack alpha, Luke Johnson, has sensed Kayley in his visions for years. He and his mate, Sean Wallace, know she is meant to be theirs. But how will she react when she finds out the world they inhabit is one she never dreamed existed? As passions collide, Sean finds himself acting as a bridge between his strong willed alpha and a skittish Kayley. But can they break through Kayley’s defenses and convince her to join their family?

Just as it seems the three may have a future together, a ghost from Sean’s past strikes at the heart of their happiness. They must fight for everything they hold dear to win their chance at love.

Excerpt: Sean Wallace stood on the decking, looking out at the perfect blue ocean where white tipped waves crested and crashed onto the shore. As he closed his eyes and turned his face up to the warmth of the sun a tingle started deep in his spine. His mate had returned.

He turned with a smile as the front door opened and voices echoed in the large living space. Julie’s rapid-fire words drifted to him through the open patio doors only to be picked up by the wind and scattered out to sea. He didn’t move to go inside. He waited for Luke to come to him, loving the way his partner would always seek him out before doing anything else. His need to see Sean would be strong.

Sean and Will had spent the morning unpacking and exploring the huge family home the group rented. Luke had taken Julie and Taylor to meet the leader of the local shifter pack, a common courtesy when wolf shifters traveled into new territory. Sean found himself left behind as the designated babysitter for their newest member, Will. He suspected Luke had also left him behind to avoid any other shifters touching Sean. His mate could be as possessive as hell. He let the rest of the pack touch Sean, but if anyone outside the pack even so much as slapped Sean on the back, Luke would get a hard look in his eyes that meant trouble.

Not that Sean minded. He loved Luke’s possessive side. Their life was near perfect.

“Hey.” Luke’s deep voice sent another shiver skittering up Sean’s back. “Miss me?”

“Always.” Sean turned and buried his face in Luke’s neck. As he inhaled deeply, he heard Luke do the same.

Soft lips nuzzled at him, moving down until they found the mating mark he’d placed on him when they’d bonded. Luke’s tongue laved over the spot, dragging a low moan out of Sean. It always hit him deep in his belly when Luke paid attention to the sensitive area.

“How did it go?” he murmured as Luke continued his ministrations.

“Crappy. The guy was a pain in the ass,” Luke said with a quirk of his lips. “I mean literally. Dude had this big old set of stone thrones like something out of a movie, and he offered me the one next to him. My ass went numb about twenty minutes in.”

Sean waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have to massage it later, bring it back to life.”

“Ass CPR?” Luke snorted. “Sounds…interesting.”

Author Bio: Author Bio: Skye Jones is an erotic romance author who loves a sexy, tortured hero. Her first story was about a talking hobby horse, but she’s moved on since then. Now she likes to write about that moment when lust and love meet head on.

Chat with her on: Twitter – @skyejromance

Or visit her blog: http://skyejonesromanceblog.wordpress.com/about-skye-jones/