Welcome Julie Lynn Hayes

It's been a while since I had guests on the blog. I need to start inviting people again. Let me start with good friend and fellow author Julie Lynn Hayes with a post promoing her new book, When Will I See You Again!

Moon Musings

“O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb...”

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“Cold-hearted orb that rules the night 
Removes the colors from our sight 
Red is grey and yellow white 
But we decide which is right 
And which is an illusion?”

Moody Blues, Nights in White Satin/Lament

The Moon is one of the most highly anthropomorphized heavenly bodies, in poetry, music, and film. The moon is both villain and hero, blamed for the madness of men on the one hand and praised for her encouragement of lovers on the other. The word lunatic derives the old French lunatique, lunage, or directly from Late Latin lunaticus “moon-struck”, from the Latin luna “moon.” And of course we all know there is a man in the moon, who lives off of the cheese the moon is made from!

In Greek mythology, Selene is the goddess of the moon. Her siblings are the sun-god Helios and Eos, goddess of the dawn. Her name most likely derives from selas, the Greek work for light. Her brother Helios is often identified with Apollo, and is referred to as Phoebus, while Selene, identified with Artemis, is also known as Phoebe.

The ancient Greeks used gods and goddesses to help explain the natural world around them, such as the rising and setting of the sun and moon. The moon must have been particularly mystifying with her seemingly constant changing—waxing and waning as each month progressed, completely disappearing during the time of the new moon, and then reappearing in all her glory during the full moon.

Even today, there are people who believe that the moon is an influence on their lives, besides the pull she exerts on the tides. One example is the monthly cycle of women, menses sharing a common root with the Greek words for moon and month. Some people believe that the moon affects their moods.

And then there are other creatures that are more directly affected: werewolves.

What is it about the full moon that causes this phenomemon?

An Australian study among emergency patients with violent, acute disturbances comparable to werewolves found that a quarter of those admitted to a small hospital north of Sydney occurred on the night of the full moon, double the number for other lunar phases. Some people were reported to rub themselves with a special ointment, to induce the transformation to becoming a werewolf, an ointment often containing belladonna and nightshade—well known for their hallucinogenic qualities. In modern times, these ointments have been replaced by alcohol and drugs.

Werewolves are not necessarily just the stuff of legends. There have been reported werewolf sightings in Wisconsin that go back to 1936. Cases of people who believe themselves to be werewolves have been reported in various scientific journals, including The Canadian Psychiatric Association Journal. In 16^th century Germany, a farmer claiming to be a werewolf was dealt a very unpleasant death by frightened townspeople. As for literature, werewolf stories go back many years, including the epic Gilgamesh, written 4,000 years ago.

For a werewolf, the moon is a cruel mistress indeed, one he or she cannot evade. She must be obeyed on that night, for nothing short of death can stop the change. But what if there were a drug that could control the change, control the beast within? Would that make being a werewolf more palatable? More acceptable to society at large?

When Will I See You Again takes place in a time when the presence of werewolves and vampires among the general populace is known and accepted, largely because of drugs that control any baser animal instincts. SL57 is the werewolf wonder drug, short for SomnioLupus, otherwise known as Wolf Trank. In the small seaside town of Crescent Bay, people come to the famous nightclub Charisma, mostly because of the charismatic man who is one of the best-known supes in the area: Raoul Marchand. Raoul is a regular party animal, one who lives but to have a good time, and who cares for no one and nothing. But he hasn’t always been this way...

 Blurb: Raoul Marchand is the crown prince of Charisma, the infamous night club in Crescent Bay, renowned for its supernatural clientele. He has the pick of any and all men, but he cares for none. He uses them and throws them away again, and has done so for some twenty years, in the aftermath of a tragedy that robbed him of what he loved most in the world.

Alexx Jameson is an idealistic young would-be reporter with the Crescent Bay Chronicle. Presented with an opportunity to write a story on the Marchands, he eagerly grasps the chance to be a real reporter. His friend, Chronicle receptionist Miller Fenwick, suggests they go to Charisma to do a little research. Alexx isn’t sure that’s such a great idea. After all, he’s still under age, being only twenty. No problem, Miller can fix that! Added bonus, there’s a full moon tonight.

When Alexx first encounters Raoul, it isn’t exactly in the way he dreamed of, and he’s sure he made a terrible first impression. But Fate throws them together under unforeseen circumstances, and the attraction between them can’t be denied. Can Raoul let go of the past long enough to find his future with Alexx, or is he doomed to repeat past mistakes?

Excerpt:

Alexx drew in his breath in dismay. This wasn’t going well. Even so, he could not stop staring at Raoul. His eyes met the other man’s. Raoul’s were very golden; he wasn’t aware such colors even existed in the spectrum of the human eye. But then again, he didn’t have any friends that were werewolves either. He wondered if this was a sign that perhaps this man was about to change, right here and now?

The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.

Alexx’s vision telescoped until he wasn’t aware of anything but this gorgeous man in front of him. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Having lost all sense of the others in the room, he was surprised when he felt his chair yanked out from under him. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed the scruff of his neck, propelling him to his feet. He glanced at his companion; Miller was being subjected to the same surly treatment.

“You waste my time for this?” Raoul’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. Alexx found himself wildly attracted to him. “I have somewhere I need to be. Paolo, please show these gentlemen out.” Sarcastic much? He turned and reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it.

A shaggy blond with hazel eyes and a cheerful countenance stuck his head inside. “Hey Paolo—” He interrupted himself at the sight of the occupants of the room.

Alexx heard Miller’s sigh of relief, even as he too recognized the newcomer. He’d seen him around the Chronicle often enough, although he’d never really spoken to him. Foster Levine, son of the Chronicle’s owner—heir apparent and future newspaper magnate.

Alexx’s relief quickly changed to anxiety. What if Foster knew how old he really was? He couldn’t be sure one way or the other, but for the sake of argument, he had to assume he did. Would he out him to Raoul Marchand and his burly minion? Had they simply jumped from the frying pan to be scorched by the fire?

Author Bio:

Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her published works can be found at Amber Quill Press, Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books. She is also an editor at MuseitUp.  

My links:

Blog  http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com

Twitter @Shelley_runyon

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julie.l.hayes.7?ref=tn_tnmn

My Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3442231.Julie_Lynn_Hayes

Email: tothewolf.max@gmail.com

Welcome MA Church!

Good morning. Its been a while since I had guests. Please welcome MA Church to the party. 

Wrapped in Leather #5 Love of Leather

Fear can be a potent aphrodisiac.

~ Kele Moon

The distinct smell of leather has many traits. It can evoke memories of the best moments in life. Scent is a well-known trigger for memory. Leather can also be soft, yet exciting. Enticing. The richness of its scent can tease the senses, drawing out primitive reactions. The smell is alluring, beguiling. The strength of leather, the comfort it offers by its proximity to the body, can be reassuring, even while shivers erupt along the skin as it wraps around a wrist, ankle, or neck. Need floods the body as thick cuffs are secured, triggering that sense of helplessness and immobility. Leather can excite… being so natural, and again, so very sensual. Warm.

The scent of leather falls somewhere between masculine and feminine tones. Leather is one of the earliest notes in perfumery, rooted in the tradition of Gantiers Parfumeurs, a guild of Parisian glove makers who made leather gloves for the aristocracy. Scents like oils, musk, ambergris, and civet were used to mask the nauseating smell of dead animal skin. This re-odorized scent is actually what today describes our notion of the smell of leather.

~Photo courtesy of Gregory Anton http://rav-photography.com

Many thanks to the model, Ben. J

Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4567

Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4568

Release date: January 3^rd

Cover Artist: Paul Richmond

 Blurb:To celebrate his decision to take the next step with his boyfriend Ian, Toshi Baylor plans a romantic evening at their favorite steak house. Toshi starts the special weekend with a bang by surprising Ian at home with lunch. There’s a bang all right, but it’s between Ian and another guy. 

Jase Taylor’s auto repair shop and the BDSM club, Wrapped Up, keep him busy while he waits for Mr. Right, instead of Mr. Right Now. He’s a Dom, but playing with the club’s submissives isn’t providing the usual stress release. After a day from hell, he deserves a good meal at his favorite steak house.

Toshi and Jase find a mix-up with their reservations: a table for Baylor, not Taylor. When Toshi invites Jase to dine with him, they discover a mutual affection for leather and a shared belief that trust must be earned.

Before they can explore their common interests, Toshi suffers a series of attacks by vandals. Jase’s protective instincts kick in, but both wonder if it can lead to anything permanent.

Excerpt:

What a day from hell it’d been.

Toshi glanced through his windshield. Storm clouds, thick with rain, rolled across the heavens, rapidly blocking out the sun in their bid for ownership of the skies. Strong winds battered the car, shrieking viciously as they slammed against the small vehicle. Lightning streaked across the sky. The bolt jumped from cloud to cloud as trees swayed, limbs reaching out in morbid submission to the howling winds.

And it looked like hell wasn’t quite through slinging shit, either.

Boy, the weatherman sure missed the mark for today. A small chance of rain had turned into “going to rain its ass off” at any moment. That was the joy of living in the South—if you didn’t like the weather, just wait a moment and it would change.

“Hold off just a little while longer, just a few minutes longer. Please. I just had my car detailed.”

Toshi exited the interstate, heading toward the less populated area of the city where he lived. As city gave away to country, Toshi checked the skies again. When this hit, it was going to be nasty. Which was fitting—nasty weather for a nasty day. He loved spring, but he didn’t love this kind of weather. Frankly, he was ready for some warmer temperatures—and it was only the middle of March. Guess the kids were lucky Spring Break was last week.

Toshi stopped at his mailbox. He stepped out of his small car and grabbed whatever was inside, not bothering to look. The first splatter of raindrops hit him. He jumped back in his car and slammed the door before the wind could tear it off and hurl it away. Toshi pressed on the gas and hurried down the long drive to his house. The garage door creaked its way up, each passing second bringing the threat of rain closer. Just as he pulled in, the skies opened up and the rain came down with a vengeance.

“Ha! And with seconds to spare.” Toshi turned the car off and gathered his stuff. At least he’d managed to avoid getting his car wet. It was a small victory, but after the day he’d had, he’d take what he could get. Toshi let himself in, mail in hand.

“Junk mail, junk mail, bills… and—oh joy—more bills.”

Toshi threw the stack of mail on the kitchen table, along with his briefcase, and loosened his tie. I’m so glad this day’s over. First, he’d had to rush since he’d overslept—meaning he’d only had one cup of coffee before he left the house, which was never a good thing.

The next crisis involved tracking down his keys, then hurrying to work, only to end up behind someone going ten miles under the speed limit. He arrived at the high school parking lot, parked, and clocked in. He'd hurried to his hall, and the first thing he heard was the wave of noise coming from a classroom… his classroom, as it turned out.

Another teacher was standing in the hall, trying to watch his class and hers until he arrived. The temptation to turn around and walk right back out of the building was great. He was only thirty minutes late, but his students were already climbing the walls. After calming the kids down, he started them on their assigned reading and finally managed to sit—only to knock his coffee over some papers he had yet to grade.

That was all before nine in the morning. The day could only get better. Or so he'd thought until another teacher reminded him they had an after-school meeting. He wanted to scream. The meeting, of course, lasted much longer than needed.

Now he was standing in his kitchen trying to figure out what to cook for dinner. Nothing looked good, and he was tired, dammit. Gods, would this day never end?

My links:

Blog http://machurch00.blogspot.com

Twitter @nomoretears00

Facebook: M.A. Church http://www.facebook.com/pages/MA-Chur...

The Harvest FB fan page: https://www.facebook.com/#!/theharvest00

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5141393.M_A_Church

Welcome Avril Ashton!

Welcome fab author Avril Ashton to Michael's promoting her latest book, A Sinner Born!

I love a delicious fetish. Something fun, sexy and um, all kinds of naughty. I’d read any hot fetish and I’d always wanted to incorporate it in my own writing. When time came for me to brainstorm ideas for A Sinner Born, Book three in my Brooklyn Sinners series with Ellora’s Cave, I had just the thing. And I knew just who would have that particular kink.

Syren Rua was introduced in book one of the series. Readers have only seen one side to him, the sexy, flirty side. Beneath his delicate, gorgeous features and custom-made suits, our tortured Syren likes his girly drawers. I loved that. Loved how he embraced it, didn’t shy from it. It’s all a part of who he is and he lets his lover know if he can’t accept that part of Syren, they wouldn’t be getting on at all.

His love of women’s underwear isn’t one Syren broadcasts, obviously, but in the circles he runs, with the men he deals with; drug runners, gun dealers and sex traffickers, there’s added pressure. No way can he let that kind of information slip. Yes, in that environment, he keeps his secret safe, but in the home of the man he loves, the man he’s wanted for so long, he leaves it all on the kitchen floor. He’s taking a chance, showing himself to Kane, being as vulnerable as he is with him. Only one other time did Syren feel safe enough to do it, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. He’s afraid of Kane’s reaction, afraid to think his would-be lover would accept that part of him, that part of Syren so much at odds with who he should be, the image he projects.

Something tells me Kane is gonna surprise Syren. 

A Sinner Born

Book three in the Brooklyn Sinners series.

One man buried in secrets. Another still grieving the love he lost. Their worlds collide in a battle between memories, old and new, while trust hangs by a fragile thread.

Syren Rua is at war. He battles painful childhood demons and his intense need for the first person who makes him feel. As Faro, Syren makes deals with the worst while taking the steps necessary to bring his family’s killer to justice. He isn’t one to indulge in selfish needs, but he’ll make the time in this instance. Syren has been watching Kane Ashby, craving the grieving man for his own. He’s always stayed away from temptation, but that’s about to change.

Kane isn’t over the death of his long-time partner. He’s certainly not ready for a relationship, sexual or otherwise, but Syren isn’t a man who takes no for an answer. The unpredictable Syren offers nothing but secrets and brings with him memories so dark, they could wipe out any chance the two might ever have. Syren brings Kane’s heart back to life. But it is also Syren who could inflict the most damage.

Inside Scoop: One of our heroes has a panty fetish. And it’s hot. This book also contains brief references to rape and child abuse.

A Romantica® gay/lesbian erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

http://www.ellorascave.com/a-sinner-born.html

EXCERPT

“I like wearing women’s underwear.” He spoke the words in one endless breath. “I wear panties, have since I was eighteen. That is who I am, all of me. I want to share myself with you, but you have to let me know—” He gave up trying to make his voice stop wobbling. “You have to let me know now if you can’t handle it. Please.” The idea of a rejection wasn’t fun, Kane turning from the sight of him would cut him to the quick, but he needed to deal with it now and put it to bed.

Kane’s expression hadn’t changed one bit. “Did someone reject you before, because of your…preference?”

“I was twenty-one.” Syren shrugged. “I had the stupid notion I could simply be myself.” That particular memory didn’t hurt as much as it once did. “He laughed and pointed, and that’s after letting me know he wasn’t interested in boys trying to be girls. I knew after that to keep my secret, this secret to myself.” Not that he’d had anyone to keep it from except Delatorre. Lovers, he’d had none.

Kane’s jaw tightened with each word he spoke, the anger in his eyes on Syren’s behalf sparking irrational hope that Syren pushed down.

“I have to admit I’ve never given it a thought until the other day.” Kane’s lips curved. “When I felt it on your skin, when I caught a glimpse under your clothes. I can’t stop thinking about seeing you in them and nothing else.”

Syren blinked. Twice.

“Do you always wear them?” Kane asked.

“Except when I go to business meetings or meet with Delatorre.” Syren searched his face for any clue as to what Kane was thinking, but he got nothing.

“Strip.”

Syren gaped at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kane’s nostrils flared. “Don’t make me come over there and tear off that fucking suit.”

Jesus H. Syren’s fingers trembled as he fingered a button on his shirt. “Kane.”

“You look so put together, neat and tidy in that suit,” Kane spoke softly. “I bet it costs a pretty penny, all expensive. It’s like fucking armor and I want to rip it off, get you dirtied up.”

Syren exhaled loudly and shrugged out of the shirt. He dropped it on the countertop.

“Don’t stop.”

He unbuckled his belt with shaky fingers, the fluttering in his stomach getting more and more pronounced. The moment of truth. He never thought it would happen, but he suddenly wished to be anywhere else but there, undressing for Kane. He’d be the first man, the first to see Syren naked in so long. Naked, from head to toe.

The pressure in his chest grew and grew, hindering his breathing. He didn’t look down at himself as he stepped out of the pants and kicked them away. He knew what he looked like; smooth, pale skin, lanky limbs, the scars on both hips and back and the panties. They were a pair from the most recent purchase Isa made for him, black, flirty boy shorts in allover lace, decorated with tiny golden butterflies. They hugged his body and rode low on his hips, rising just over the crack of his ass and cupping him gently in the front. He loved it, the look and feel of those pretty things on his skin.

He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to vocalize what he felt. “I feel desirable and untouchable when I wear them,” he whispered. “No one knows what’s under my clothes but me and yet I feel powerful and in control.”

Kane’s eyes gleamed. “Do you want to know what I see?”

Syren shied away from meeting his eyes and bit his lip. “Yes.”

“Then look at me.”

He did. Something blazed bright in the depths of Kane’s blue eyes, something that would’ve made a lesser man bawl, but he was made of tougher stuff so he only sniffled.

“Kane.”

“You’re perfection.”

Those words touched him in that cold prison where his heart resided, melting the ice bars holding him caged. Syren’s head spun and he gulped in a lungful of air, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the hammer of rejection to come down.

AUTHOR BIO

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a tolerant spousal equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing the plot points of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother.   

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.

Addicted to cake, the ID Channel and the UFC, Avril writes Erotic and GLBT Romance for Ellora's Cave, Evernight Publishing, eXtasy Books, Secret Cravings Publishing and Total-e-Bound.

 Visit: http://www.avrilashton.com

Friend Avril on: http://www.facebook.com/writeravrilashton

http://www.twitter.com/#!/AvrilAsh

http://avrilashton.tumblr.com/

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/author/avrilashton

ARe: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Avril+Ashton

Where in the World is Michael Mandrake

I'm at You Gotta Read today with a short interview!

http://yougottaread.com/interview-with-michael-mandrake-i-like-em-pretty

And don't forget, I'm also at Babes in Boyland giving away a copy of ILEP and Mon Frere!

http://www.babesinboyland.net/2013/04/guest-post-giveaway-character-interview.html

Where in the World is Michael Mandrake?

At Babes in Boyland today interviewing Kajika Fortier and a contest!

http://www.babesinboyland.net/2013/04/guest-post-giveaway-character-interview.html

Welcome back Tara Lain! CONTEST

Greetings readers! Please welcome my good friend and awesome author, Tara Lain with a promo and a contest!

An Acquired Taste

Hi everyone. Thank you so much to Michael for inviting me today. I’m celebrating the release of my new MM contemporary novella, Hearts and Flour.  In this quirky story, a raw-food, vegan health food fanatic falls in love with a cupcake baker. A cross-dressing cupcake baker.

I loved writing this story because I am an only slightly reformed health-food crazy myself. At a young age, someone told me I’d feel better if I didn’t eat beef and pork. I tried it, liked it, and that was thirty years ago. In the intervening years, I’ve been totally vegan for long periods of time, ate only raw food for big expanses, have done juice fasts and watermelon cleanses. I own an infrared sauna, use a nutritionist/chiropractor as my first line of health defense, and still walk a mile and a half several mornings a week to get green juice and wheat grass for breakfast.

So I totally relate to my character, Micah Truveen, in Hearts and Flour. Micah owns a health food restaurant and takeout and teaches classes in raw food preparation. He’s passionate on the subject of living enzymes and giving your body what it needs to recreate healthy cells. Then he meets a guy who represents everything he thinks he hates -- white flour and sugar! -- but he can’t help loving him. And just as Quentin, the baker, learns to value Micah’s healthy perspective, Micah has to learn to compromise and enjoy his life.

Have you ever tried wheat grass juice? It tastes and smells like you’re chewing the lawn! You can buy it dried and in tablets, but real aficionados espouse its value when consumed freshly juiced. Wild claims are made for its benefits, but at the very least it has the action-packed vitamins and minerals of any dark green vegetable.  If you’re ever somewhere you can try it, chug down an ounce. You’ll find it’s an acquired taste! LOL.

Excerpt ADULT: HEARTS AND FLOUR by Tara Lain; MM Contemporary; The Vegan and the Cupcake Baker

Available at Amazon  ARe

To Micah Truveen, raw, vegan food is his religion. So when his devoted customers show up with white flour cupcakes, Micah could kill. Then Micah comes home to find his boyfriend, Dharamaram, in bed with someone else. He throws the rat out and agrees to go to his friend’s orgiastic anti-Valentines party where he meets a gorgeous cross-dressing guy who gives him a night to remember.

Southerner Quentin Darby wishes he could stop wearing women’s clothes. He so wants to live up to his grandmother’s glowing opinion of him, he’s never even told her he’s gay. And now there’s Micah who makes him wish he could just be who he is. But Micah finds out that Quentin is the baker responsible for the plague of cupcakes afflicting the community! And Dharmaram adds a little blackmail to the mix. Can two hearts rise above the flour?

He tightened his grip on Queen and pulled him to the hallway. The hall made a turn, and Micah bumped into a guy leaning against the wall while another guy deep throated his cock. Transfixed, he stared at the cock disappearing into that wet mouth and then reappearing all shiny and dripping. Both men moaned and mewled as they worked. Micah’s balls tightened and black dots floated in front of his eyes. It felt like he was getting the blowjob. Could a human be this turned on and survive?

He looked at Queen who stared just as fixedly with a little smile on his lips. His blue eyes flicked up to Micah’s. “Do you like that?”

“Hell yes.”

“My, so do I. Want me to blow you?”

Keeerap. In twenty-six years of being gay, he’d never gotten such a direct invitation. “Yes.”

Queen smiled like he’d just asked Micah to a garden party. He pulled on Micah’s hand, skirted past the very involved couple, and peeked into the first bedroom they came to.

“Unh, unh, unh. Oh baby.”

Queen looked up and smiled. “No privacy there.”

The next bedroom door was closed and locked. They looked into the third and found six guys on a king-size bed all sucking on each other. Micah trembled. If he stuck his hands in his pants and jerked off nobody would even care. Except maybe Queen.

The beautiful guy stepped in front of Micah and pushed him against a closed door at the end of the hall. “This place is busier than a billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch. Looks like we don’t get privacy, sugah.” Queen dropped to his knees, ripped down the zipper in Micah’s jeans, and had his throbbing, straining cock out of its hidey-hole and into his mouth on the count of three.

“Holy shit!”

“Ummmm.” Queen sucked like a pool cleaner. Oh. My. God. No way Micah could last more than a second. Never, never had he received head like this. Those red-painted lips left pink stains on his cock as it slipped in and out of Queen’s mouth. His tongue caressed the head and tickled the frenum as those lips did a vacuum move on Micah’s shaft. Oh God, never let it stop.

But no. He didn’t want to come like this. He knew what he’d been missing and, damn, he wanted it. He ran his hands through Queen’s silky hair. “Wait. Wait. Can I fuck you? I’ve got condoms and lube.”

Queen’s blue eyes looked up. He popped Micah’s cock from that fantastic mouth. “Most gentlemen seem to prefer oral.”

“Yeah, well I’d really love to fuck you if you’re into it. Otherwise, suck me and then I’ll suck you.”

Queen stood up, smoothing the red dress over a very prominent bulge. “You certain?”

Jeez. Why did he want to explain? Micah pressed both hands to either side of Queen’s beautiful face. “I don’t know if you care, but I’m not promiscuous. I’ve been with one guy for a year and before that was a long dry spell. I just came to this party because he cheated on me and we split. I was pissed off and wanted to do something stupid. But the idea of fucking you is about the sexiest, most incredible thing I’ve ever thought of. If you’ll have me.”

Queen smiled. “And you’re about the sweetest thing I ever did see. In case you care, I’ve never been to one of Yancy’s parties before. I’m new in town and mostly just wanted to wear my dress somewhere safe. But I think getting fucked by you, darlin’, would be the best thing ever.”

E-mail:                   tara@taralain.com

Website:              http://www.taralain.com

Author blog:       http://taralain.blogspot.com

Book blog:           http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com

Goodreads:        http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541791.Tara_Lain

Pinterest:         http://pinterest.com/taralain/

Twitter:               http://twitter.com/taralain

Facebook:           http://www.facebook.com/people/Tara-Lain/100001514105686

FB Page:          http://www.facebook.com/taralain

Amazon:          http://www.amazon.com/Tara-Lain/e/B004U1W5QC/

B&N                 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Tara-Lain?keyword=Tara+Lain&store=book

ARe      http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Tara+Lain

 Would you like to win in the I Love Hearts and Flour Blog Tour?

Would you like to join our I Love Hearts and Flour Party? Grand Prize? A Beautiful Cupcake Soap and Cherry Vanilla Sugar Scrub! Second Prize? A $5 Amazon GC . (Plus, there’s a book drawing--see below) Here’s what you do!

·         Promo Hearts and Flour and/or Tara Lain in some way. Tweet it, Post it on FB, Pin it, email to friends, Like the Amazon Page, Post it on Google Plus, Share in a Goodreads group, add it to Shelfari, etc. Be creative!

·         Then put a comment below saying what you did (with your email so I can find you!).

·        You can enter AGAIN at Beautiful Boys Books -- if you do another promo

·         And there’s a special drawing for a backlist book too if you post on your blog or review the book.

·          Come to Beautiful Boys Books for all the rules if you want. First, do your promo and post your comment below with your email.

Tara Lain’s first erotic romance novel was published in January of 2011. She’s now on book 17. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series of 2011, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm, and she carries her promotional instincts into her writing career as well. She lives with her soul-mate husband in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books.  Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

Thursday Spotlight - Julie Lynn Hayes CONTEST

Good afternoon all.

The Thursday post is late today because of internet issues in our area but all is better now and I'm bringing you Julie Lynn Hayes with a guest post supporting The Belgian Chocolate Remedy!

What’s one word that’s sure to grab people’s attention, make them perk up, and put a smile on their faces?

No, I don’t mean sex.  Chocolate!  Who doesn’t like… no, I mean LOVE chocolate? I can count on the fingers of one hand the people I know that don’t like this delicious treat, and have fingers left over! So, it’s pretty universal, this love of chocolate. And it isn’t a recent phenomenon. No indeed, it’s been around for a long long time!

Chocolate has been around the Americas for a good three thousand years. It was fermented and used in beverages to take away the bitterness of the cocoa bean. 

The Aztecs called it xocolātl , from a Nahuatl word that meant ‘bitter water’. They also ate chocolate, and used it in religious ceremonies. Wow, what a great incentive to go to those, right?

It’s only appropriate to discuss chocolate during the holiday season because it makes such a great gift—not just for the people on your gift lists, but for yourself as a treat for running yourself ragged with holiday rituals—cleaning and cooking and shopping and wrapping and decorating, the whole nine yards!

There are different types of chocolate, and each is determined by the amounts of cocoa powder, chocolate liquor and sugar involved.

· Cocoa powder is for baking, and doesn’t taste good on its own. Unsweetened chocolate is also called baking chocolate or bitter chocolate. It is pure chocolate liquor, made up solely of ground cocoa beans. It’s not meant to be eaten solo, but forms the base of the other chocolates, except for white chocolate.

· Dark chocolate has chocolate liquor, sugar, cocoa butter, vanilla and leicithin, with a cocoa content ranging from 30% to 70-80%. This category also includes bittersweet chocolate and semi-sweet chocolate.

· Bittersweet chocolate has at least 35% cocoa solids; most contain at least 50% chocolate liquors, some as high as 70-80%. Since there is no regulation on the amount of sugar, the taste can vary from manufacturer to manufacturer.

· Semi-sweet chocolate contains at least 35% cocoa solids and is primarily an American term, popularized by Nestle and their Toll House morsels. Usually, it’s darker than sweet dark chocolate, but sweeter than bittersweet.

· Sweet dark chocolate has a high percentage of sugar and is sweeter than other dark chocolates, and might have only 20-40% cocoa solids.

· Milk chocolate, besides containing cocoa butter and chocolate liquor, must contain condensed milk or dry milk solids. While it’s easier to overheat, it’s a very popular type of chocolate and has a rich creamy taste and texture.

· White chocolate has cocoa butter but no chocolate liquor or other cocoa products. Not surprisingly, it has no actual chocolate taste, and may taste like vanilla. It must contain at least 20% cocoa butter, 14% milk solids, and no more than 55% sugar. If you see white chocolate that contains vegetable fats instead of cocoa butter, this isn’t really white chocolate, and won’t taste the same.

I have a new release with Museit Up Publishing, my first with them. It’s just out today, actually and I’m excited to tell you about it. It’s called The Belgian Chocolate Remedy. There’s that chocolate theme again! Milan is my Belgian chocolatier. He and his brother Ludolf came to America, after Milan had studied hard in Europe to become a chocolatier, and they ended up settling in the Midwest, in a small town in Indiana. The plan was that Ludolf would help fix up the shop where Milan would make the chocolates, and they would make a good life for themselves. But life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. On the other hand, there’s Jesse, who has no interest in his life since his boyfriend dumped him. He lives in St. Louis, but comes to Lafayette, Indiana, at his best friend Reggie’s request (read demand!). They’re going to help her friend Milan get his booth ready for Outfest. Has Reggie got something else in mind?

I hope you like the story, and it wouldn’t hurt to eat some chocolate while you read it, maybe drink some too!

Thanks for having me, Michael! I’d like to give back to your readers, so let’s have a giveaway! If I get 25 comments or less, I’ll pick a winner to receive anything I’ve written. 25 to 50 comments, there’ll be two winners. Over 50, I’ll give away to 4 readers, and one person will get a $10 Amazon gc! Don’t forget to leave your email addy. No addy – no win!

Here’s the link for The Belgian Chocolate Remedy – enjoy!

http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=630&category_id=281&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1





Blurb: Milan, a Belgian chocolatier, has lost his beloved brother. Yet life goes on, and he must ready his booth for Outfest—Ludolf would have wanted him to carry on. Jesse is a rudderless soul, unable to cope with the rejection of his lover. He comes to Lafayette, Indiana at the request of his best friend, Reggie. She inveigles him into helping her friend Milan… a way to pass the time, or something more?

Excerpt:  Milan had gone back to his last batch of chocolate—unscathed and unburned—and removed it from the burner, where it was cooling. “Would you like to brush the molds with chocolate?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess.” Jesse shrugged. It didn’t seem that difficult, at least in theory. “What’s it for?”

“To coat them.” Milan pulled a pastry brush from a drawer. He already set the molds out; they were simply waiting to be used.  “I have some in the freezer already done,” he explained, seeing Jessie’s questioning look.  “This is not all I have.”

“Okay,” Jessie said, “just show me what you want me to do.”

“Here.” Milan carried the pot of chocolate to the center of the work table. “Set a trivet there, will you?”

“A what?”

“A trivet,” Milan repeated, nodding to the counter behind Jessie.  “That blue thing there. I will set the pot on it so it does not burn the surface.”

“Sure.” Jessie laid the round blue object onto the table, as Milan set the pot.  “Take the brush and dip it like this.” He demonstrated just how far into the chocolate he wanted him to go. “Then lightly brush over each mold, like so.”

Jesse admired the ease with which Milan worked, as if he’d been born to do nothing else. He had very nice hands, he noticed. How would those hands feel on Jesse’s cock? Would he touch it with the same care? His breath caught at the thought.

Milan offered the pastry brush to Jessie. He shook himself from his reverie and took it, pushing the forbidden image away. “So you’re selling these tomorrow. At Outfest. Right?”

“That is correct,” Milan replied. “You are coming, yes?”

“I am unless I want Reggie to tan my hide.”

Milan smiled.

“She would, you know,” Jesse continued, “You ever see her get mad?”

“Yes, I have,” Milan admitted, “I would not care to be the object of her anger.”

“Me either.”

“A little lighter, please.” Milan had been watching Jessie work. “Here.” He laid his hand over the other man’s. “Like this. Just enough to coat it. I will fill it in after we put in the fruit.”

Their eyes met and for a moment their hands stopped moving, each acutely aware of the other. Milan broke away first. “I will do this one,” he offered, “then we can do the first freeze.”

“First freeze?”

“Yes. We are forming a shell so it will hold the weight of the candy.”

“Okay.” Jesse thought it made sense, but what did he know. He dipped the brush into the chocolate again, making his strokes lighter, earning a “bon” from Milan. He knew enough French to know that meant good. He relaxed a little at the praise.

Once they had set the molds into the freezer, Milan removed the completed candies that waited there. He showed Jesse how to unmold them, and how to put them into their little paper beds, and into the waiting boxes. Then he let him apply the second coating himself.

“You are doing well,” he encouraged him.

“Thanks.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed, Jesse concentrating on the task at hand, Milan stealing surreptitious peeks at the brunet. Whether he was willing to admit it to himself, he was glad for his company. Jesse’s presence was pushing the shadows away.

“Milan?”

“Yes, Jesse?”

“This is your place, right?” Jessie encompassed the kitchen with his glance. He couldn’t help but feel a lot of love had gone into making this room the place it was. More than a kitchen, it was Milan’s haven.

“It is, yes. Mine.”

“When are you going to open, then? Reggie said you were going to open your candy store after Outfest, right?”

Milan paused in the act of retrieving a container of raisins from the refrigerator. It was a legitimate question. It’s what businesspeople did—they opened for business. So why was he so hesitant to set a date? Maybe because he didn’t see it ever happening, without Ludolf’s guidance.?

“I do not know,” he mumbled, setting the bowl on the table, not meeting Jesse’s eyes. “There is work that needs to be done, construction work and…and licenses…and I do not know what, I mean I just do not know…”

Jesse reached out his hand without thinking, but Milan had already turned away. Jesse’s heart ached for the other man—he sounded so alone, so lost. Jesse wanted to gather him up in his arms, comfort him, soothe him, stop his tears, and end his pain. And yes, he wanted to get naked with him, too—to touch him, feel him, and lose himself in Milan. He wanted to taste his lips and take away his misery.

His feet moved, as though his thoughts had manifested themselves into action. His fingers brushed across the top of the table as he edged around it, toward Milan. He had no clear purpose he simply needed to be closer to him.

Milan was a few inches taller than Jesse, he discovered, as he came up behind him. Jesse’s lips were at about the level of Milan’s jaw, and he found it hard not to simply kiss him there, to stop his shoulders from shaking, to stem the tears he suspected were falling. He reached up his arms, wanting to hug Milan to him tightly, to take the first step—

The tinkle of the shop bell. Jesse retreated, stumbling back to his side of the table. In his haste, his hand knocked a spoon off the table. It clattered onto the floor. Milan spun around, dabbing at one eye with his right hand.  He left a small smear of chocolate on his cheekbone. Jesse bent to retrieve the spoon, resisting the urge to wipe the chocolate away. The moment passed; he felt like a coward.

 My Links:

My blog:  http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com

My facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=527332074

My Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3442231.Julie_Lynn_Hayes

My Publishers:

Museit Up Publishing:  http://museituppublishing.com/

Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_222

Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, and MuseitUp Publishing, and she has also begun to self-publish at various places on the Internet.   

Thursday Spotlight - Alex Akira!

Greetings! Welcome to another Thursday spotlight! I'm happy to have on Alex Akira here to talk about his latest release. Let's give him our undivided attention!

Alex A. Akira; Author of M/M Romance Series Dojo Boys

http://alexaakira.com/index.html

As we come to the end of 2012, I've been reflecting on my year and wondering if there is any truth to the Mayan prophecy of great change in this year. I am very surprised to find that for me, that prophecy rings true. Somehow I've managed to publish five books in one year. 

I just released the last, Dojo Boys: The Italian Connection, this past week and it was only then that I realized what I had accomplished. Granted the five book series do not resemble (in any manner) the Great American Novel that some authors dream of writing. Rather they are racy MM romances that revolve around the beautiful students and instructors of a Shotokan dojo and a dance company and their adventures to find enduring love.

 I rediscovered writing in the winter of 2009, when I experienced a life threatening injury that had me pretty much paralyzed with a nerve disorder. Until that point, I was a highly athletic individual, meaning I ran six-eight miles daily, taught and trained in Shotokan karate, lifted weights and swam regularly. Running, Shotokan, and design, well, that is what I lived for. Suddenly I could not do the first two and the third was not enough to fill the void.

 Plus I was in serious pain; I've broken both hands and a foot and I'd never felt anything like nerve damage pain, I wouldn't wish it on my worse enemy.  At any rate, it was during my slow recovery that I started writing and posting online, to keep myself distracted and entertained. People started reading the stories and liked them, so I kept on writing. On Dec 26, 2011, I finally was able to exercise regularly and published the first book in what was to become the Dojo Boys series.

The Dojo Boys stories were written  because I missed teaching and training at my dojo. One of the best things about teaching is that you gain insight into different personalities. My dojo tended to draw a lot of beautiful, what I would call "fractured" boys, and so we more often than not found ourselves mentoring our students. We also had our fair share of oddly erotic incidents, like the time my mate and I received a call at our home at 2:00 AM, informing us of a break-in at the dojo. We had to bail out one of our trusted, students after the police discovered him fellatioing another young male in the dojo. The thing is, he had the keys, but apparently in his eagerness had forgotten to shut off the alarm.

At any rate, I, myself, had my fair share of personal problems growing up and so I write stories of beautiful boys with fractured souls and how they deal with life and love. I call my stuff "pulp yaoi" because it's meant to be light, fast-paced and entertaining. My tagline "Specializing in Angst, Romance, Smex and Happily Ever Afters," and my love of manga, should give you a good idea of my style. For now, I draw my own covers; you can find more art featuring my boys on my website: http://alexaakira.com/gallery.html

My latest effort, Dojo Boys: The Italian Connection can be read as a stand alone novel and features the lovely Japanese-French boy Philippe. A dancer and a thief, with a low self esteem problem, Philippe finds himself at the center of a love triangle between a sexy rock musician and a hot Italian male. Later he finds himself kidnapped by a former lover who has Yakuza ties. Will he make it out alive? Will he realize his self worth? Will he find true love?  I hope you get a chance to pick up a copy and find out. 

You can read an excerpt here: http://tinyurl.com/DOJOBOYSTIC

Take a "Look Inside" or purchase Volume One here: http://www.amazon.com/Dojo-Boys-Italian-Connection-ebook/dp/B00ACOABPI/

Reach out to me here:

 Email: alexakira69@gmail.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlexAAkira

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/GRALEXAKIRA

Facebook:http://www.facebook.com/alex.a.akira.3

Website: http://alexaakira.com/index.html