Monday, May 29, 2017

Happy Memorial Day!

For those of you in the US, I wish you a Happy Memorial Day.

I've suspended Monday Mancraving until tomorrow (since it really is meant to be a "oh my gawd, the work week has begun and I need something to get me through" kind of a thing, anyway). So if you came here looking for half naked men, check back tomorrow morning!

Today, I'll be enjoying family and friends at a cookout and remembering my father and grandfather -- both veterans -- Vietnam and WWII, respectively -- both now lost to us.

Let me say THANK YOU to all current and former members of the military, and their immediate families, who have sacrificed so much to keep us free.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Sunday Spotlight - Stormy Glenn and Just Bob

Welcome Stormy Glenn back as a guest for Sunday Spotlight.  She's sharing a bit from her new release, Just Bob.


[Siren Publishing: The Stormy Glenn ManLove Collection: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, shape-shifter, M/M, HEA] 

My name is Bob. It’s just Bob. Not even Robert or Roberto or anything as exciting as that. It’s just Bob. Bob Mills. It’s not a fancy name or a name that inspires great romantic tales. No one writes odes to Bob. No one screams Bob during great heights of passion. There are no great masterpieces with Bob as the main character. I can’t even think of any fictional characters named Bob. 

To make matters worse, I’m an accountant and I wear glasses. I own a cat. I have a library card, and I actually use it. If the karmic universe could have crapped on someone, I was it.

Exciting, right?

Yeah, no. There is nothing exciting in my life.


That all changed when someone put a contract out on my life.



My name is Bob. It’s just Bob. Not even Robert or Roberto or anything as exciting as that. It’s just Bob. Bob Mills. It’s not a fancy name or a name that inspires great romantic tales. No one writes odes to Bob. No one screams Bob during great heights of passion. There are no great masterpieces with Bob as the main character. I can’t even think of any fictional characters named Bob.

There were times I wanted to smack my parents for naming me Bob. I wasn’t even named after someone. They just picked the name out of the air and slapped me with a lifetime of mundane and boring.

To make matters worse, I’m an accountant and I wear glasses. I own a cat. I have a library card and I actually use it. If the karmic universe could have crapped on someone, I was it.

Exciting, right?

Yeah, no. There is nothing exciting in my life.


I get up in the morning, shower, eat breakfast, dress, go to work, keep my mouth shut when I have to deal with idiots—which happens more often than you would think—and then I come home, make dinner, read a book or watch TV, and I got to bed only to wake up in the morning to do it all over again.

On the weekends, I break up the monotony by cleaning my house, going to the library to get new books to read, and pick up groceries for the following week. Oh, and every Sunday, I have dinner with my parents.

And if that wasn’t enough, I’m gay. Being boring in looks and character, my vast experience with sex consisted of one night with a drunken frat boy who was horrified the next day when he woke up and discovered me in his bed.

We never spoke again.

So, yeah, I was cursed at birth with the name Bob and my life has never gotten any better.

Hence, when a man dressed all in black walked into the coffee shop where I was having my break, I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, it wasn’t like he was there for me or anything.

This was a man with a name like Lance or Sebastian. Maybe Rodrigo.

A sexy name.

He’d never get called Bob.

I do admit, I did stare. I know it was a bit rude, but I couldn’t help it. If ever there was a more imposing man ever born, I had never seen him. Crowds parted and crap, people quickly stepping out of his way as he strode straight to the front of the line of people waiting to order coffee.

One man was dumb enough to say something about the man cutting the line. Boy, I was glad it hadn’t been me. The spectacular example of genetics didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just looked at the man who had spoken up until the guy turned and hurried out of the coffee shop.

I chuckled under my breath and went back to reading my book...or at least staring at the pages in between shooting the handsome man quickly glances under my lashes.

He really was pretty. Not runway model pretty, but more “make you scream as he fucked you against a wall” pretty. God, I would love for him to fuck me against a wall.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think it would ever happen.

He was probably as straight as they came. Anyone stupid enough to even suggest the guy might be gay would probably end up dead. He looked dangerous enough to shoot someone and not even break a sweat doing it.

The sigh that I let free came from deep within my soul. I was lonely. I admit that right up front. I had been on a couple of dates in my twenty-five years, but they had all been blind dates and I never got invited out for a second date.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think I was a dog or anything. My mother always said that my brown eyes reminded her of Hershey kisses. I kept my short brown hair neatly trimmed in the latest style. I bathed regularly.

That was a plus.

You wouldn’t believe how many people didn’t bathe regularly. It was an astonishing number. It was also gross. Why wouldn’t you bathe as often as possible?

I didn’t understand some people.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic here. I’m what my mother always said was cute and sweet.


No one ever wanted to be referred to as cute and sweet unless you were four.

I wasn’t.

I wasn’t too fat or too thin. I wasn’t too short or too tall. My eyes were brown. Not bright brown or dark chocolate brown—despite what my mother said—just brown. My hair was brown, too, not dark chestnut brown or light honey brown. Just brown. Mouse brown.

Hell, I even had freckles over a large majority of my body.

There was nothing spectacular about me.

What I wouldn’t give to be sexy. Just once. Just for an hour or so. Just long enough for someone as sexy as “Lance” saw me. Like, really saw me.

I wouldn’t turn down a kiss either.

Oh well, it was what it was. My life wasn’t going to suddenly turn exciting just because I wished it. I was positive. I had been wishing since I figured out what my dick was for.

“Is this seat taken?”

I knew my mouth was hanging open when I glanced up, but I couldn’t help it. Mr. Gorgeous was standing right in front of my small table, asking if he could sit down. Damn. Up close he was even sexier. Even the scar that ran over his left eye from above his eyebrow to his cheek added a rakish look to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked again.

My cheeks heated as I shook my head. I watched with a sense of astonishment as the man sat down, placing his cup of coffee and a newspaper on the table in front of him. I peeked up at him again, growing mesmerized by the gray of his eyes. They were stormy gray, like what winter storm clouds looked like just before a blizzard.

When he looked directly at me, I quickly dropped my eyes, the heat in my cheeks burning even more. As pale as my skin was, I had no doubt the stranger could see how red my cheeks were getting.

Curse of being Irish. It would have been marginally okay if I had had the fiery red hair to go with it, but no. I got mouse brown hair.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.

I sent the man a friendly smile as I pushed my wire-rimmed glasses back up my nose. I didn’t think this chance meeting was going to go anywhere, but it never hurt to be friendly, especially with a man that could probably snap me in two.

Unable to hold the man’s intense stare, I glanced back down at my book. I wanted to stay right where I was and bask in the aura of such a perfect specimen of manhood, but I also wanted to run for my life before I did something really stupid and got myself punched, or worse, and with as big as this guy’s muscles were, there could be a lot of worse.

I sighed when my watch went off. My break was over and no matter how much I wanted to stay, I knew I couldn’t. My job wasn’t much, but it was mine. I had a little cubicle and everything.

I closed my book and set it down. I made sure to wipe down the table in front of me. I’d had a pastry with my coffee and didn’t want to leave behind any crumbs. I hated it when people didn’t clean up after themselves. It took about thirty seconds to wipe down the table and gather up my trash.

I grabbed my garbage and my book and stood. I gave the man another friendly smile. “Have a good day,” I said. Wishing the man a good day was the least I could do. It also allowed me to look into his turbulent gray eyes one last time.

The guy didn’t smile back. He didn’t even lift his head to acknowledge my words. Just stared down at his newspaper.


It was a cliché to say all the beautiful people were mean, but damn. The least the guy could do was acknowledge my existence.



I had never failed to get my mark.

Until now.


I shoved a hand through my hair. This was not going to look good on my record. Obviously, I couldn’t kill Bob and keep my perfect record. And I couldn’t let anyone else kill him either. It was the rest of it I wasn’t sure about.

“You’re here.”

I blinked down at Bob in surprise. One, I was shocked that he remembered me. I thought I had blended in pretty well. Most people didn’t remember me even when I was stupid enough to sit across from them and drink coffee.

I hadn’t been able to resist after getting my first smell of my mate.

And two, I was shocked—and a bit intrigued...and maybe confused—that he seemed so happy to see me. If the smile crossing his plump little lips was anything to go by, he was practically ecstatic.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Bob said.

He was expecting me?

“I’m here,” I said, because Bob seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

My eyebrows rose when Bob reached for me.

Was I ready for this? I knew if I touched him, I would claim him and it would be the end of my life as I knew it. I would no longer have just myself to worry about. There would be someone else more important than me.

While most panthers didn’t form familial bonds, those that found their mates did, and those bonds remained unbroken even in death. Once a mate was claimed, no other would do. Bob would become everything to me and I would protect him with my life.

“Please?” he whispered as he held out his arms.

Oh hell.

I stretched out beside Bob, pulling the man beneath me.

“You smell fucking fantastic, baby,” I murmured as I rubbed my nose against the warm skin along Bob’s throat. “Right here, you smell like heaven.”

“N–No one’s ever thought of me as heaven before,” Bob whispered.

“I do.” I started alternating between sniffing Bob’s skin and licking it. Bob tasted as good as he smelled. I really did want to eat the little man up. I wanted to start at the top and lick my way down to the bottom.

And then maybe lick my way back up.

I gently edged Bob down onto his back and started pulling his cotton shirt up his stomach. I wanted more skin. When Bob’s shirt was up around his armpits, I moved from the man’s neck to his chest. I latched my lips onto one of Bob’s dark-hued nipples.

The cry that fell from Bob’s lips made my cock rock hard. Had anything ever sounded so erotic? I needed more skin.

“Arms up, baby,” I said as I tugged the shirt up. I definitely needed more skin, preferably naked skin from head to toe. Once Bob lifted his arms, I whipped the shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor.

I started to reach for the hem of Bob’s pajama bottoms when I noticed the lower lip caught between the man’s pearly white teeth. I instantly stopped what I was doing and cupped the side of Bob’s pale face.

“Bob, you’re okay with this, aren’t you?” I asked. My arousal took a nosedive at the nervousness displayed on Bob’s face.

“I’m afraid.”

My eyebrows rose quickly. “Of me?”

“No, of not being good enough.” The pale skin quickly flushed.

“Bob, this isn’t a contest. Just do what comes naturally.”

Moving over to stand next to the side of the bed, I grabbed the legs of Bob’s pajama pants and pulled them down his legs. For a man that was so damn short, he had some damn long legs. I could just imagine them wrapped around my waist as I pounded into the man.


I could feel Bob watching me as I stripped my clothes off. I slowed down, taking my time. I was horny as hell and just wanted to get to the claiming part of things, but knowing Bob was watching me made me want to put on a little show for him. I knew I was in good physical shape, but approval from my mate meant the world to me.

Once I was naked—and Bob was panting from watching me—I climbed up on the end of the bed between Bob’s legs. I stroked my hand down one of Bob’s legs, awed at how smooth it was. The smooth skin covering Bob’s cock and balls was a work of art.

I pushed myself up Bob’s body until I reached the hard cock jutting out from Bob’s shaved groin. I grabbed Bob’s thighs and pushed them up so I could get a better angle then made one long lick with my tongue from Bob’s perineum to the top of his cock.

“Oh, oh...” Bob shouted as he thrust his hips into the air.

The man really did taste fantastic. I could lick Bob all day long and be a very happy panther. I used my tongue to bathe Bob’s body, moving back and forth between his ass and his cock.

After a few moments, I licked my fingers then started applying pressure, slowly inserting them into Bob’s ass, one at a time. By the time Bob was humping into the air, his head thrashing about on the bed, I was about ready to explode.

I couldn’t for the life of me understand how Bob was single. He was the most responsive man I had ever met. I knew exactly when I hit a sensitive spot and when I didn’t. Bob’s cries and moans, and the shivers that racked his body, told me everything.

Bob was a dream.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Gardening is Cheaper than Therapy...

Bear with me for a moment while I talk gardening...

I know it's quite different than the sexy men and erotic content I often post, but I like my interests being chaotic and wildly varied.

But then, is it truly any less creative than words on the page?


About five years ago, I was considering selling my house and getting something a little larger.  I knew we'd need to spruce the place up before putting it on the market, so I figured I'd plant some nice things out front to give it some curb appeal.

It was hell.  Nothing wanted to grow because the soil was bad and the sun beat down on it all day long.  (There are days our front doorknob is so hot it nearly burns your hand.)  Plants were dying left and right, I couldn't keep them watered enough, and it pissed me the hell off.  

It felt like a challenge, one I refused to fail at.

So I researched heat-loving plants. I sought out the advice of master gardeners at local nurseries. I searched the internet for advice, and through a little trial and error, I finally had a nice little front garden.

By then, the gardening bug had bit.

I turned my attention onto the back yard. I decided I wanted to plant some veggies and have a few baskets out there.  I bought a nice wicker set of furniture so I could enjoy the outdoors. I built a raised bed all by myself (well, with my kidult's groaning help at times)

And while my hands are in the dirt, my back aching, I feel amazing.

When I harvest a crop for the first time, there's a pride in the fact that I nurtured something and brought it to life. When it sits on my plate, it tastes all the sweeter because I grew it. When one of my neighbors comes into my backyard and says they just want to sit there all day and look at everything, there's a sense of pride that they recognize the beauty of what I'm trying to create.

And it is another form of creating.  Oscar de la Renta said, "Gardening is how I relax.  It's another form of creating and playing with color." I agree with him wholeheartedly.  It's therapy, relaxing in the longevity of it.  No, you don't get to see your creation completed in a day, a week, or even a month.  You build on it, add more pieces, and years later, it might not truly be complete.

I'd always thought of gardening being something for old women and men, a hobby to waste time for the retired. My grandfather and grandfather in law were avid gardeners before they passed. 

I sometimes joke about being a premature old lady, with my big sunhat, on my knees in the dirt.

But it's more than a hobby. More than something to waste time.  It's therapy. It's a sense of accomplishment. It's happiness in overalls and dirty hands. 

Maybe those older folks just know something most everyone else don't. I'm glad I figured it out before I retired, is all I know.

My backyard is tiny.  Really tiny.  But I make the most of it.  I spend time out here every single day, whether it's digging in the dirt, or letting my pups sniff around while I sip some tea with my feet propped up.  

We'll be out there this weekend, grilling up some hamburgers and enjoying some sangria.  I hope you enjoy your holiday weekend!

Oh? And me selling my house? That was the plan, but after remodeling the inside to make it more sellable and all the work I've done to the outside, I almost don't want to leave.

But I have an aging mother who I'd like to move in with me in the next decade or so.

I figure there will be another backyard for me to transform, and maybe this one will be a hair bigger so I can really make a gorgeous mess!

Thursday, May 25, 2017

NEW RELEASE: Nailing the Foreman

Seems I'm a day late and a dollar short with this post!  I was stuck at the hospital a good chunk of yesterday -- no worries, all is well.  I did forget to post this once I made it home, though... so here we are...

For those of you who loved JLC Construction stories with Golden, Jax, Linc, Chance, Colt, Ryan, Damien, and Lucas have been asking me about Jason's story... and now it's finally here.

Nailing the Foreman (A JLC Construction Story, 6)

*This story is ALSO A Kent Street Tale, 3*

New JLC foreman Zach McKinley has developed a crush on his new boss—Jax. Jax is, of course, happily married to Golden. Zach has no plans to become a homewrecker, no matter how tempting it is. 

When he meets Jax’s unattached twin brother, Jason, he’s drawn to the man… Or is he attracted by the same handsome face he’d seen in his fantasies?

Jason Montgomery instantly feels a connection to Zach. After a long, whirlwind day together, they fall into bed with one another, and all hell breaks loose. Zach’s crush on Jax comes back to bite them both in the ass.

Jason and Jax have had a rocky relationship over the years, and this threatens the peace they’d finally found. When another issue arises, will it tear the twins apart?

And can Zach find a way back into Jason’s bed… and heart?

Barnes & Noble  * Bookstrand

And don't forget to check out the new COMPANION GUIDE that goes along with this book!

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Nailing the Foreman Companion Guide

I haven't written one of these companion guides in some time. While sounds/penile plugs/etc aren't new to my stories, it's been a while since I've had one in a story. I thought it might be good to add another companion guide now.  In Nailing the Foreman *spoiler alert* there's some urethral plug play that goes down, and for you guys who have no idea what that is, I'm going to share a little information.

Before I go ANY further...

If you are considering play like this, keep in mind a few things.  One -- anytime you are putting something like this in your body, keeping things clean and sanitized are important.  You run the risk of some serious infections if not. Two -- I am NOT an expert.  This post is for information purposes only -- so readers of Nailing the Foreman can understand the scene the two heroes share better.  If you are interested in trying this play, here's a great FAQ for urethral plugs and sounding HERE.

Urethral plugs (also sometimes called "sounds") are typically some type of narrow plug placed into the slit of a man's cock -- inside his urethra. Sounds tend to be thinner, and not necessarily plug shaped, so they are different than plugs.

Inserting something into the urethra is sometimes called "sounding"

Here's the basic concept

Not all guys enjoy this , but there are some who really get off from the sensation.  Unless it's a hollow tube (some are), a guy can't cum or pee while it's inserted, so it can be a bit of a torture device if worn long enough, if that's someone's thing.  A little pain with pleasure can be fun, if everyone's on board.

In fact, the one Zach wears in my story is called a "cum stopper". There's a thin plug attached to a ring that "locks" behind the glans.

A type of "cum stopper"

Now, this isn't the first time I've written about something like this.  I've had a Prince's Wand in The Dungeon Series, as well as others -- if you're interested in seeing more, you can read my older post HERE. It has pictures, info, and a lot more!

You can grab Nailing the Foreman today and see just how much fun Zach and Jason have with that cum stopper!  

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Sunday Spotlight -- Victoria Vallo and Tore's Romantic

Welcome Victoria Vallo back to Sunday Spotlight!  She's here to share a bit about her new release, Tore's Romantic.  This is the third and final installment in her Mate Me series.


Tore thinks both his brothers have lost their minds, yet he can’t ignore how happy they are.

Tore had no intention of giving in to the pressure of his father’s demand that he settle down and begin producing heirs. But when he meets a very eager and determined omega, he begins to think the decision has been made for him. Beau thinks everything happens for a reason—even parents making unusual demands—and the more he learns about Beau, the more Tore starts to see life in a completely new way.

Copyright © 2017 by Victoria Vallo

Beau wiped down the table and then changed James’s shirt. He took the sticky garment to the sink to let it soak. A knock came at the door, and Beau glanced up. The sun had just set, so it had to be Jalal or Finn. He walked over and peeked out the window, his breath catching in his throat when he saw it was Tore.

Guess I didn’t make a fool of myself after all. He took a deep breath and smiled as he opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Tore licked his lower lip. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. Just cleaning up after dinner.” He opened the door wider. “Come in. You’re just in time for dessert, if you’d like some.”

“Sure, thank you.” Tore moved stiffly as he entered the house.

Is he nervous? While the idea excited Beau, he didn’t want Tore to feel that way. “Look who came to see us, James,” Beau said as he walked past James’s highchair and quickly dropped a kiss on his forehead.

James made a gurgling noise as he chewed on his fist and then fixed his attention on Tore. He made a little squealing sound but continued to gnaw on his hand.

Tore walked over to the table and sat down beside James. “Hey, little man. Looks like you enjoyed your dinner.”

Beau glanced back and realized he hadn’t wiped the highchair down yet. “Oh, sorry. I was just rinsing his shirt, which has the same smears all over it.” He grabbed a cloth and moved to the table.

Tore took the cloth from him. “I can do it. And no need to apologize.”

Beau let Tore take over, and he glanced over his shoulder as he moved back to the sink. The open floorplan of the cottage’s kitchen and living area had always been nice because it made keeping an eye on James much easier. But now, it had other benefits. Watching Tore interacting with James, not to mention cleaning without complaint, inspired more than a little hope in Beau’s heart. Tore seemed like a very gentle man, the exact opposite of every other male who had ever shown interest in Beau. Especially Quinn. The aggression had been arousing during sex, but Beau had come to realize he didn’t want to be dominated in every aspect of his life.

Beau put some mashed up peaches in a bowl of yogurt for James before cutting two slices of pie for him and Tore. “You like qurnas?”

“Never had them, but I hear we may be exporting some to other worlds soon.”

“They’re very sweet. So sweet you don’t even have to add sugar when you make a pie.” He took both plates over to the table, then returned for forks and James’s yogurt. “The texture is more like a melon, but they soften up nicely in pies and cobblers.”

“Thanks,” Tore said as Beau handed him his fork. “Sounds wonderful.” He turned the plate and looked at it a moment before glancing up. “Though we’re doing this backwards.”

Beau looked down at the plate, then back up as he tried to figure out what Tore meant. “Backwards?” James banged on the little tray of his wooden highchair, so Beau stirred his yogurt and offered him a spoonful.

“Yeah. I came here to accept your dinner invitation, but we seem to have skipped to dessert.”

Beau smiled. “I was hoping that was why you were here.”

Tore took a bite of the pie. “Mmmm, this is good. But yeah, very sweet. I can see why Finn thinks they’ll sell well.”

“Your company does lots of importing and exporting?”

“Yes. We started out as just a third-party delivery company, but over time we developed our own interests and connections. Now we ship for others, but we also do direct buying and selling.”

“So you’re here to see Finn’s work and make more connections as well.”

“Yes.” Tore paused. “I may be around a lot.”

“I’d like that,” Beau said. “I’m not sure I can seduce you before you leave in a couple of weeks.” Beau focused on James, but he could feel Tore watching him.

“That kiss yesterday was a fine start,” Tore said before cutting into his pie again and lifting a hefty spoonful to his mouth.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Special Saturday Spotlight - Charlie Richards and The Strike of Hot Iron

Welcome author Charlie Richards -- she's bringing a bit of her new release, The Strike of Hot Iron, with a special Saturday Spotlight!

Just a little Love Bite: When a dingo shifter finds a reluctant mate, he needs plenty of help from his friends.

Pascal agreed to move with his two brothers to a vampire coven which runs a dude and cattle ranch. With both of his brothers wrapped up in their mates, he has plenty of opportunity to explore. He accepts his sexuality as he learns his likes, dislikes, and cravings, which include submitting to a dominant lover. With abuse part of his past, his brothers don’t understand why Pascal occasionally sports bruises from sex he claims is consensual.

When the new blacksmith arrives at the ranch, Pascal finally understands what his brothers had talked about when describing the mate-pull. Abner Johnson is all he can think about. Unfortunately, while the huge redhead is okay with a little fun, he doesn’t want a relationship…with anyone. He’s also upfront about his feelings on biting—don’t even try it.

Can Pascal figure get help wooing his mate from his family and friends, even when they don’t understand his desires?


*Coming Soon


Shit! What am I doing here? Why did I go home with a stranger without telling my brothers? Mate or not, I should have talked with him first. I shouldn’t have allowed my cock to rule my head. I’ve never done this before.
Feeling gentle hands cradle his face, Pascal jolted in his seat.
“Easy, Pascal.”
Abner’s deep rumbling voice caught Pascal’s attention, and he tipped his head back, giving in to his mate’s guiding hand, and met his gaze.
His lips curved into a warm smile, Abner continued, “There you are, Pascal. You went somewhere I couldn’t follow, and it wasn’t a good place. Not like the blissful place I’d rather send you. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. No I don’t.”
Pascal shuttered his gaze and focused on Abner’s chin. He knew he’d answered a little fast, with a little snip in his tone, but defensiveness was a knee-jerk reaction. Pascal didn’t want to talk about his past…especially with his mate.
What if Abner thought he was damaged goods or something?
While Pascal knew the abuse, the physical, mental, and sexual trauma wasn’t his fault, that didn’t mean he wanted to discuss…to relive it…even for his mate.
Abner slid his right hand to the nape of Pascal’s neck. With his other, he threaded his fingers into his hair and gripped it in a light hold. Sweeping his dark-eyed focus over Pascal’s face a few seconds, Abner seemed to assess him.
Pascal held still, unable to meet his gaze. He couldn’t stop or even hide his tremble as he felt Abner massage his nape lightly. Finally, he saw his mate nod once.
“Very well.” Abner released him, his nails skimming over Pascal’s flesh as he did so. “Then we talk about what we want.”
Abner settled on the opposite side of the long sofa, his back to the corner. His left knee was bent on the cushion since he was at an angle, and his right sock-clad foot was flat on the floor. He placed his right hand on his thigh and his left arm along the back. His dark-eyed gazed seemed to settle on Pascal with laser-guided intensity.
“Pascal, I know you are a shifter. A dingo shifter. I don’t have a problem with paranormals in general, but I didn’t move to this coven to be a donor or to be bitten in any way,” Abner began bluntly. “I have a lot of shit going on in my life, and I don’t need the headache of trying to figure out a relationship of any kind.” The thumb of his left hand tapped against the back of the sofa, betraying that he wasn’t quite at ease as he obviously wanted to appear. “With that said, I can see that you are a submissive. It’s as plain to me as the nose on my face. I am a dominant, and would be happy to occasionally play with you. We can set up times to meet and scratch our mutual itch, my need to control and yours to give up the same. Is that something you are willing to agree to?”
With each word Abner spoke, Pascal’s disappointment grew. His mate wasn’t open to a relationship? He also didn’t want to be bitten?
How the hell am I going to bring up being mates now?

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Switching Gears

As many of you know, Bear Mountain is slowly coming to an end.  I only have two more stories planned in this series to release this year.  Of course, the series lives on some in Project Zed and there will be at least two more books in that spin-off, perhaps more.  But it won't be as large as the original series.

There *might* be another spin-off in the works, but more on that when the time is right.

Bound to Two Bears was a flash of something amazing. I was struggling with what I was SUPPOSED to be writing, so I decided to switch gears and work on something else instead.  It was going to be a one off... no series, nothing more than one book.

But after writing it, I really liked the bare bones of the world I'd created in that story.  So, I decided to write another.  Each story added more meat to those bones and I felt sort of like Bastian in the Neverending Story, creating a world from my imagination as I took a journey through it. Many of you have been with me every step of the journey...

I'd started my career as Kelex writing edgier erotica, but as I continued with this series, my stories grew more romantic. More story than sex.  Some of you liked that... whereas others haven't.

Ben was the turning point for me. His story put a wrench in my usual plan.  My other stories had been filled with a lot of BDSM and hardcore sex.  But here was this widower who ached for his lost mates and felt drawn to new lovers he was guilty for wanting.  He needed love, tenderness, and care, not whips, paddles, and bondage. Other stories in the series needed a gentler hand, as well. Eric's story... after what he'd endured at Tymber and Taryn's hands, for instance. The series evolved along the way...

But now I find myself nearing the end of the journey and I feel as if I'm on shaky ground.

I miss writing the harder erotica of my past yet really enjoy weaving the softer stories in this new direction, too. There needs to be balance in my life... a little of this and a little of that, I suppose. 

Nailing the Foreman is my next release, returning to both JLC Construction and the world of Kent Street.  It was a challenge to write -- JLC was very hot and sex fueled, whereas the Kent Street stories were a little more romantic.  Thankfully, many of the earlier characters in the JLC stories are now married or in long term relationships that allowed for a little more romance to come into the tale.

Where do I go from here? I'm not sure, but I know there are two sides to my writing and some fans only like one of those sides.  I will endeavor to keep you all happy all while keeping my muse appeased, too.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Sunday Spotlight - Olivia Black and Trey (Belt Buckle Ranch,6 )

Welcome Olivia Black to my blog -- she's here to share a bit from Trey, Belt Buckle Ranch, Book 6.

Trey Williams left an abusive home life when he was just a teenager and started living on the streets. Without a high school diploma and no way to get a job, Trey turned to a life of prostitution. One night, Trey gets jumped by a group of hooded strangers. Beaten and broken and with nowhere to go, Trey is taken to the Belt Buckle Ranch to recover from his injuries.

Doctor Jon Perry is called out to the ranch for a medical emergency. When Jon sees Trey, he’s shocked by the young man’s condition. Jon stays by Trey’s side, nursing him back to health. He feeds Trey, changes his bandages, and bathes him. Jon cares for Trey and, over time, their relationship grows. But Trey has difficulty adjusting.

While Trey’s body may be healing, his memories still haunt him. In order to have a future, he’s going to have to face the past

Story Excerpt:

Trey Williams slept as the pain medication worked its way through his system. When the car started bouncing along a gravel road, he slowly peeled his eyelids open and looked around. A surge of relief swept through his system, and moisture filled Trey’s eyes as he choked back a sob. The gratitude he felt toward Oliver and the rest of the men rocked the foundation of Trey’s life, and he knew things would never be the same again.
When the car passed under a large wooden sign that read Belt Buckle Ranch, Trey tried to smile, but his swollen lips wouldn’t even twitch. Trey glanced around and took in the beautiful surroundings. Large, snow-capped mountains set up the backdrop for the most picturesque place Trey had ever seen in his life. The land was sprinkled with snow, showing small patches of greenery throughout the open space.
Looking back, Trey realized that signing himself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t stand the smell of the sterile environment. It brought back a lot of memories from his childhood. The place made him physically ill, and even though he had been beaten to a bloody pulp, he couldn’t force himself to stay. Once he was conscious, Trey checked himself out and left.
He hadn’t taken into account the amount of pain he’d be in once the IVs were removed and the pain medication left his system. Trey barely made it back to the apartment before collapsing in agony.
When the car came to an abrupt stop, Trey pushed the memory away. He wasn’t there any longer, so there was no sense in thinking about it. Coming back to the present, Trey’s eyes landed on a group of men standing on the porch of a two-story ranch house. They started walking toward the car, and Trey’s body shook uncontrollably as fear consumed him. He knew the men weren’t going to hurt him, but the feeling wouldn’t subside.
Oliver seemed to sense his distress. He jumped out of the car and intercepted the group, sending them away.
Taking a few deep breathes, Trey tried to calm his frayed nerves. Once the group had dispersed, Trey was relieved. Not just because of his anxiety, but because he didn’t want anyone else staring at him as if he were a circus freak. Having Oliver, Hank, and Robbie look at him with pity shining brightly in their eyes was bad enough.
The door opened, and Oliver leaned in the car. He wrapped his right arm around Trey’s waist, holding him close. “Lean on me. Take your time. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Trey nodded. He prepared himself for a severe amount of pain before moving his left leg. He stepped on the ground and shifted his weight. He started to stand, but Oliver took over, helping Trey to his feet in one fluid motion.
“I’m Dr. Jon Perry,” an older gentleman, in his early forties, introduced himself. “But, you can call me, Jon.”
The man had tousled brown hair with silver strands painted throughout the thick locks. His eyes were kind, and he had a gentle smile. Looking at the man gave Trey an automatic sense of peace.
“I’m going to wrap my arm around your waist so that I can help you inside. We have to walk up a flight of stairs to one of the guest rooms. If you need to stop for a break, just let us know.”
Dr. Perry and Oliver allowed him to lean on them, holding him securely as they walked toward the house. With each step, Trey felt himself growing weak and tired, but he pushed himself to keep going. By the time he stepped over the threshold of the large farmhouse, Trey was wheezing.
Oliver and Dr. Perry immediately stopped. They gave him a few minutes to catch his breath and pull himself together. Panting heavily, Trey’s head dropped forward, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t ever remember being so weak. Then again, he’d never been beaten within an inch of his life.
“Hank,” Oliver said. “Can you get me some water, please?”
After a couple minutes, Trey stood up a little straighter and lifted his head. Oliver pressed the water bottle against his lips. A few drops dribbled out, and Trey licked the opening, trying to take a drink of the water, but his swollen mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Most of the cold liquid ended up on the front of his shirt, but he did manage to take a few small sips.
“I’m good,” he told them.
“We’re going to take one stair at a time,” Dr. Perry told him.

Trey nodded in agreement. He knew they couldn’t stand in the entryway all day, but he wasn’t sure how much more he’d be able to take. The pain medication was wearing off. Every ache and pain rushed through his system. Lifting his foot, Trey stepped up. He took a few stairs before stopping once again. 
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