Literotica Authors and Their Books (For Literotica Authors ONLY)

lovecraft68 said:

Great cover!

Click to expand...

Thanks!

I was really terribly excited to see it for the first time, it was like I'd finally achieved some legitimacy as a writer. Geeked out pretty hard, me.

Launched on 28 June 2014 by BarbarianSpy, a GM novella, Stallion Station, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).


BLURB:

Tattooed and pierced muscle man Jess Gordon has a good thing going for him on the Richmond road east of Farmville, Virginia.

Jess is converting an old motel into Stallion Station, a male-male brothel flanked by a gym to entice the customers and a video recording studio to entertain the masses. As the story progresses, Gordon accumulates his stable of young rent-boys: Dino, the carpenter building the set for the video studio; Gordon's first recruit, a video store clerk, Matt, and his friends, Jason and the more experienced Griff; Joey, brought to Gordon from court by the protectors of Gordon's operation, and Rick, a Frisbee player being hidden away by his high school teacher lover.

Gordon seems to have his stuff together—a growing stable, official protectors with secrets and desires and fetishes of their own, and a humongous Stallion Station sign going up that can be viewed from the highway.

But Gordon pushes the envelope on services, accepting a proposal by a German industrialist to cater to a set of fantasy first-time, filmed sexual encounters.

And life starts getting very dicey for Gordon and his operation when Trebel and his randy giant Algerian bodyguard, Jordo, arrive at Stallion Station.


EXCERPT:

The old dump of a motel that was here nine months ago has been transformed into something pretty nifty, the young carpenter, Constantine—known by everyone but his mother as Dino—thought as he left the movie studio he'd just put the finishing touches on and strode across the line of refurbished motel rooms toward the men's gym at the other end. The only problem was that the town didn't really need another girlie whorehouse, he went on to muse. It could use something that a guy like me could go to to shack up with other guys, but I don't see that happening.

He wasn't a bit fooled by what he'd just finished helping to install in a newly constructed building at one end of the line of kitchenette motel units. Some of those were already occupied—ones on the line on the back side of the building—but he guessed the guys in there would be pitched out when the women were brought in. What he'd just worked on—a studio with black walls, floor, and ceiling and with a royal-blue velvet-covered platform in the center, with a vinyl top and all sorts of camera stands surrounding it and other camera boxes mounted on the walls obviously was a setup for porn films. And some BDSM films too, considering the restraints he'd had to build in tucked away here and there around the platform base and tucked into boxes in the ceiling over the platform, not to mention the paraphernalia that hung on one of the walls.

Dino knew about BDSM. He had found his way to Buckingham, where a male-male BDSM club met.

That was a new wrinkle on whore houses, though, in Dino's experience—the BDSM element. Altogether a slick operation if this Gordon guy could keep it open. The gym, where Dino was headed, was a nice touch. . . . Dino had been using the gym himself for several months—it was the first part of the complex in operation—and maybe he would continue to do so, because there were some really good beefed-up men using it, starting with that Jess Gordon, the owner of this place, with his body jewelry and all-over tattoo. But when the girls got put in, he'd have to reassess his interest. Maybe not, though, if Jess kept working out in the gym. He had a body and a half; Dino wouldn't mind being taken a couple of rounds by Jess—a great body and a great cock too. Dino had seen him in the showers. And a thick cock ring. Dino had never been done by a guy with a cock ring before. This just wasn't a town that catered to guys who liked guys, and especially in a rough way. For that Dino had to go to Buckingham.

But Dino liked it in a rough way, and he had actually signaled his interest to Gordon—several times—but had come up flat. He's opening a girlie whorehouse because he wants to sample the goods himself, had been Dino's conclusion. A real waste of prime manhood, he decided.
Gordon was there, in the gym, looking real good in gym shorts and an almost-transparent white athletic shirt, with armholes going almost down to his waist and showing masculine hairy pits and an old-ship naval battle going on across his torso, which could be picked out pretty well through the wide mesh of the shirt.

"All done in the studio building, Mr. Gordon," he called out to the owner of this almost-completed complex. "I'll go back to the company office and let them know. They'll contact you."

"I get a final inspection before you go, I think," Gordon said, walking up to Dino and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Dino liked the intimacy of that feel, and he went a little hard. Boy, would he ever like to get it on with this stud—and be manhandled by him. Gordon was quite a bit older than he was and looked like a thug, but Dino liked older men—and he liked thugs. He'd found that group of guys over in Buckingham who did some of that—bondage and toys and stuff. Rough sex. Two on one. Dino shivered at the thought.

"Final inspection?" Dino asked. "Final inspection of what?"

"The movie studio. You did know I was putting in a movie studio to do gay porn flicks, didn't you? I thought you would have figured that out."

Hello,
I need some good writers who can write 5 stories for me in 2 weeks time.
I will be paying some good money too.
It's about a couple with a large house and a large swimming pool. The pool is cleaned every 2 days by a young college student. When the husband goes to the office the wife gets lonely and starts an affair with the husband.
Please give me ideas and also i need some writers.
So help me!
Thanks!
Maria

Nighttime Promises, a M/M scifi novella, released by Romance First

~Promises has a silver star at ARe.
~Promises made ARe's Best Seller list as of 7/13/14


This is the final book in the Nighttime series. Here are the links to the first two books:

Nighttime Wishes Book #1: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-nighttimewishes-790160-340.html

Nighttime Dreams Book #2: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-nighttimedreams-994823-148.html


Buy Link:

Smashwords:https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/455044

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-nighttimepromises-1562900-350.html

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Nighttime-Promises-M-Church-ebook/dp/B00LKP48WK


Blurb:

Be careful what you wish for...

The first time Daroshi spotted Bryan, the Maz’Rarian warrior knew he wanted the small town sheriff as his mate. Things have been going downhill since. Daroshi doesn’t have experience dealing with humans, especially a very unhappy human male who’s just had his well-planned life jerked out from under him. Little does Daroshi know the changes Bryan will insist be made to help him adjust. But he also never dreamed someone would actually try to kill his mate.

The shocks just keep coming for Sheriff Bryan Coltrane. Finding out aliens exist was bad enough. Finding himself mated to one was definitely not on his to-do list. Wait, what? Did someone say tentacles? And if that’s not enough, a killer tried to poison him. Added to his misery, now he’s on his way to another planet—a planet that he hates on sight. How’s he supposed to survive in such a cold, ugly industrialized world? Can you take the country out of the boy without killing his spirit?

As Bryan struggles to adapt, a killer plots to end his new life... before it even begins.




Excerpt:

The stress of the past few weeks sure caught up with him—saying he was gaunt was putting it nicely. His sapphire blue eyes were sunken in his head and the laugh lines around his eyes slashed deeper into his face. The dark circles didn’t help matters, either. God, he looked like he had two black eyes. The skin was that nasty bruise color and puffy.

And were there more than a few strands of gray in his dark hair now? At age thirty-four this was ridiculous. That’s what stress would do, though, and this was about as stressful a situation as he’d ever been in. Bryan sighed. The poisoning deal scared him; he could have died. Should have died, actually. Someone was after his ass and they didn’t know whom. On top of that, they were hurtling through space toward a planet he’d soon be calling home. With an alien.

Yeah, stressful. “Shit,” he muttered. “Things have got to get—”

“Bryan!”

Bryan flinched at the roar from the other room. Damn, do these aliens know how to do anything other than yell?

“Where are you? Bryan? Bryan! By the stars, answer me!”

A loud crash echoed into the bathroom.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Bryan shook his head. What the hell was Daroshi doing out there? Tearing Medical apart looking for him? Did Daroshi think he’d… what? Run away? Where was there to run? Besides, he had someone trying to kill him. He damn sure wasn’t going to go wandering the halls alone.

“Bryan!”

“I’m in here, Daroshi.”

Daroshi slammed into the bathroom area, chest heaving and tentacles writhing on his back. Jesus, he looked fierce. “What are you doing?”

“Playing checkers.” Bryan rolled his eyes. “What do you think I’m doing in here? It’s a bathroom. Come on, big guy, you figure it out. Jeez.”

Daroshi leaned against the doorframe, the rise and fall of his chest slowing. “I’m not even going to ask what this ‘checkers’ means. Bryan, the medibed stopped monitoring your stats. The low beeping noise ceased. I woke up thinking there was something wrong, and instead I find you’re… You weren’t there.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t think. I had to use the bathroom and… What are you doing?” Bryan grabbed hold of Daroshi’s shoulders as his feet left the ground.

Daroshi hoisted Bryan into his arms, growling loudly even as a tentacle snaked across one massive shoulder to pet Bryan. “I’m taking you back to the medibed. You know, it’s that thing that monitors your body’s systems. You were poisoned and shouldn’t be up. Do you understand how serious this is?”

Huh, sarcasm. “Since I was the one poisoned I’d have to say that yeah, I get it.” Bryan rested his head against Daroshi’s neck. Good thing he already went to the bathroom. “Wow, is that your best bedside manner? Because I have to tell you, it leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Waking up and finding you missing left a lot to be desired.” Daroshi gently lowered Bryan back down onto the medibed. “Do not do that again.”

Publisher change relaunch on 11 July 2014 by BarbarianSpy, a GM novella of struggling for freedom, Sail to the Sun, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):


BLURB:

This is the saga of Atid’s escape from sexual servitude into the freedom to choose who, when, and how he will give his soul and body.

Young, mixed-race Thai man, Atid, could be transported by the brutal airman, Hoagie, from a shack near a U.S. air base in the jungles of Thailand, where he began servicing U.S. servicemen as soon as he came of age, to a swanky country inn in West Virginia, but he was no less owned by men who wanted to use him in America than he had been in Southeast Asia.

Hoagie, just the last of a string of men paying to own Atid, uses him as a waiter upstairs in his West Virginia inn and abuses him as a dancer downstairs in his gay bar and brothel. When the price is right, Hoagie sells Atid to a porn movie producer, who takes him to his mountain home and studio. Only rarely has a man treated Atid as anything but a possession. Buddy, the last of these men, Atid thinks has also used him and deserted him in his slavery, leaving Atid totally resigned to his lot.

This is a BarbarianSpy relaunch of the eXcessica novella by the same title.


EXCERPT:

“Shoot the moon.” Another voice sailing through the air—making my thoughts drift back, as the music drummed ever louder in my ears. I raised a slender, flexible leg high up the pole to cat calls from the murk, knowing I was nearing the moment when I unsnapped the thong and turned full frontal to the ring of reaching arms for an instant, a mere instant, before the spot was extinguished and I glided off stage, into the wings. There I perhaps would fall into the arms of a patron who had met Hoagie’s price—not knowing until Hoagie met us at the cell door what the price would buy.

Shoot the moon. Bringing to mind what my mother would whisper to me as she pulled the curtain across the bed, the smell of the smoke and the heavy breathing the man—invariably an American from the air base—having already told me the curtain would be pulled. Just another lonely and horny American airmen—just like the one of many possibilities who had fathered me.

“Shush now, little Atid,” she’d murmur. “Mother sails to the sun now.”

Each time she’d say that I would feel warm and close to her, as my name, Atid, meant “sun,” and for a moment, a moment only, I thought she was coming to me, to cover me with her arms and rock me back and forth and hum a tune of safety to me. But she never meant she was coming to me. And I would lay there on the other side of the thin curtain, hearing everything, knowing the moment she reached the sun, knowing she was being seared by the heat of the sun, crying out at the explosion.

It was not long, there in Udon Thani, before the American airmen came not always for my mother, but sometimes for me, and I learned myself what sailing to the sun could mean. Until then, I denied what it really meant. Sailing to the sun for me was rising out of the Thai jungles, above the trees and the fetid squalor of our alley and into the clean sunshine and the crisp air of the mountaintops. It was only a dream then; I didn’t expect ever to do that. And when I did get glimpses of it, I was sorry that it only shed understanding on the conditions I was born into. I think I would have been happier never to have known more or better.

First few titles on Amazon, Kobo, and ARe

In an effort to reach my goal of publishing a dozen short stories/novelettes this summer, the first several titles have been published:

The Lorelein Giant (Astatin Series #1)

The astatin trees of Lorelei provide the single source of fuel for the galaxy. Prince Casi, the lone son of the great king, works alongside his people to harvest the rare gas and organize treaties to remain a neutral party to ongoing wars for neighboring planets.

When the rebel army arrives in Lorelei with intent to claim their only resource, the two kings agree to an unconventional arrangement: no man or woman will be harmed as long as Casi weds the rebel princess, Aphae.

Bound by an arranged marriage and extensive cultural differences, the unlikely couple are faced with a consummation neither truly wants. Futures look grim until Casi's physical assets earn the attention of his icy bride.

(FREE)
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LEWYMYI
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-lorelein-giant
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theloreleingiant-1563813-340.html


Just Be Still (Taboo Erotica)

An army veteran and PTSD survivor, Jamie's greatest challenge comes in the form of his inescapable and excruciating attraction for John, the one man he can never have. Bound by the rules of society and crippled in the face of rejection, Jamie struggles to maintain distance from the man he hates to love.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LP34ECQ
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/just-be-still
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-justbestill-1566555-340.html

The Warden of Cryosleep (Cryo #1)

A rising star in cryogenics, Dr. Alice Hill only needs to keep her trio of sleeping patients alive for the next two years. The sum she’ll be paid will be just enough to reach her goal - a new life will await her when she returns.

In the meantime, Alice is trapped on a ship in hyperdrive to a nearby star. Without communications with the outside world, she has no choice but to get to know the engineer Weston Ramsey, the only other conscious person on board.

Unbeknownst to the workaholic scientist, Weston rearranged his career goals to get the chance to spend two years with her. Locked inside a spaceship with a man eager to win her affections, Alice struggles to maintain a casual relationship while hiding a lifetime of secrets that mar her ability to open up to him.


(FREE)
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thewardenofcryosleep-1570481-149.html


Thanks,

MM

Published on 25 July 2014 by BarbarianSpy, a menage novella, Harmony and Dissonance, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt). This is an expanded version of a Literotica FAWC story:


BLURB

Hypersexual German stage set engineer, Lars Krieger, is on a mission in Bangkok, Thailand, but it’s not entirely clear what that mission is or whether it is one of harmony or dissonance.

Through sexual machinations, he has worked his way into being included in setting up a royal-command Chopin piano concert at the royal summer palace in Hua Hin, Thailand. In the process he has suborned the premier Thai set designer, Amnad, of the royal house, to gain access to other royals, Krit, a concert pianist, and his wife, the soprano soloist, Somsri.

Lars is clearly working all of these people—through sexual manipulation—to some end. There’s more going on here than setting up for a royal-command concert. But what is it? Who and what are Lars’ real targets? And at who’s behest is he operating?

And does even Lars know what is actually going on, and who is really manipulating who?


EXCERPT:

“Khunchai Amnad and Khunchai Krit are within,” the servant said in a soft voice, as he lowered his eyes and gave Lars a wai, which was a hand palm-to-palm greeting of respect, accompanied by a bowing of the head. Ah, “khun” is good enough for me, but an MR gets to be called “khunchai,” Lars thought. How much of this would he have to learn—and use—for the short time he would be in Thailand?

Also, the lower the bow, Lars had gathered, the greater the respect. The servant was bowing a bit from the waist, so Lars assumed he was being given a great deal of respect—even if he was only a “khun.” The sidelong glance he got from the young man indicated hints of interests of another sort—like maybe the respect was more for Lars’ physique, rugged good looks, and blond curls than for his possible station in life.

Lars was always on the lookout for this look—and took advantage of it when the attraction was there for him, as well. Lars was highly sexed.
Lars knew he looked good and squared away, although he was somewhat uncomfortable in the traditional long-sleeved creamy silk Siamese-style shirt he was wearing over black tux trousers. Amnad had invited him here to consult over an early dinner with Krit Thanawat on a sound shell and backdrops for a concert for the royal family and their summer court in their seaside palace at Hua Hin, the royal enclave on the Bight of Bangkok, to the southwest of the capital.

Lars had quietly been wrangling for an introduction to Krit, and he’d thus been willing to have this formal Thai wear whipped up on short notice. He normally was a shorts and T-shirt sort of man who worked hands-on in primitive conditions—and his muscular physique reflected that—but he was here on a favor owned to someone he couldn’t say no to. Connecting with Krit was key to accomplishing that favor.

As they drew nearer a set of carved wooden doors at the end of the passageway, the quiet floated away on the wings of a lovely, lilting soprano voice, singing in, to Lars’ great surprise, what sounded like Polish.

The music, underscored by an intricate piano accompaniment, grew louder as they entered the house. The servant, swaying his hips provocatively, led Lars down a passageway to the left, opened a door in a blank wall to the left, and step from the opening, looking down to the floor and giving a shy little smile, as Lars passed by him. He brushed by the servant, touching the young man’s bare chest with an arm, as he passed and was both amused and aroused to feel the servant shudder and give a low moan.

Lars found himself in a sound booth facing a wall of glass. Beyond the glass, in a large music room set up as a TV studio and concert room combination, he could see a young, extremely handsome Thai man sitting and playing at an ebony black grand piano, with its lid lifted. The young man was dressed casually in Western style, in black trousers; a billowing white cotton shirt, open half way down his chest; and sandals on bare feet. The piano he was playing sat on a semicircular stage raised a couple of steps above the ground floor, which supported three tiered semicircular rows of substantial, matched dining room chairs curving around the stage. Standing in the curve of the piano was a beautiful young Thai woman, dressed in a creamy-white sarong. She was the one who was supplying the lilting soprano music in the incongruous language. . . .

Amnad Pramoj, a tall, lithe, berry-brown Thai in this late thirties and elegantly dressed in traditional Siamese-style formal wear as Lars was, was standing behind the sound technicians and watching the performance.

Lars entered the room to stand at Amnad’s side as the door gently closed behind him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Amnad whispered without turning, but obviously being aware that Lars was at his side.

“Yes, they are,” Lars answered.

Amnad turned his head toward Lars, raised his eyebrows, and gave Lars a little smile. “I was referring to the music. Chopin’s 16 Polnische Lieder.” The response was tart, but Lars knew where he stood with Amnad and that Amnad was just showing his amusement at the façade Lars was showing. Amnad knew of Lars’ sophisticated knowledge of classical musical—as well as of Lars’ more earthy pursuits and attraction.

Launched on 8 August by BarbarianSpy, a GM journey novel, Journey Through Abilene, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).


BLURB:

Beaufort, South Carolina, orphan, Gordy, had always known he wanted to go with men. But when he was old enough he was not fully ready for being rushed into it by the boss whose Beaufort waterfront bar he worked in and the boss' drill sergeant friend from the nearby Parris Island Marine base, while the three were boating in St. Helen Bay. Afterward Gordy's work at the bar is extended to servicing men. One of them, Marine lieutenant Kevin Holton, and Gordy become lovers, and unknown to Gordy, his boss has the lieutenant beaten up and bundled off to his next assignment in Billings, Montana.

When Gordy breaks away from his Beaufort situation it is to aimlessly travel westward with the loose plan to reach the West Coast and start a new life there. As he travels, though, he falls into the easy stream of dancing poles and renting himself out to men to make his travel money in a months'-long exodus. At the nadir of his existence, having changed his name to Glade, as a rent-boy at a club in Abilene, Texas, and in danger of becoming a drug addict as well, Gordy has a revelation that he really needs to be moving north toward Montana.

After interludes in Durango and Denver, Colorado, that threaten to pull him back into the rent-boy life, he does finally make it to Billings.

But will he find his lost Marine lover there? And, if he does, will Kevin still want him?


EXCERPT:

"Now you just stay there, like that, little darlin', and someone will be along in a minute to give you more comfort."

More comfort, Gordy thought, turning his face to the side and suppressing a sob, as Josh Cardwell slid his knees back from under Gordy's buttocks, rose off the cramped bench bed inserted into the curve of the sailboat's cabin, zipped up his shorts, and turned and climbed up the ladder to the deck above.

Gordy remained there, on his back, his legs bent and spread, the soles of his sneakers—all that he was wearing—flat on the red vinyl surface of the bend as much because he was numb except for the soreness in his ass as because Cardwell had told him not to move.

At the sound from the top of the ladder at the hatch out onto deck, Gordy turned glazed eyes toward the roofline of the cabin, where the rectangle of blinding light from the sun over South Carolina's St. Helena Sound was blocked by the massive body of the Marine drill sergeant from nearby Parris Island, who Cardwell, with Gordy functioning as the deckhand, had brought out of Beaufort, South Carolina, for a fishing trip.

Gordy hadn't had an inkling before they cast off from the Beaufort yacht basin that he was the fish being snagged.

The Marine, probably in his forties, had the muscular body of a much younger man. A very fit man, as would be required of a "show them rather than tell them" Marine drill sergeant.

"You ready for a real man?" he growled, the stern gravel in his voice belying the big grin on his face.

Cross Country Mom is now available at Smashwords.

It was a long trip across the country, but he was with his mom, who loved him dearly.

Excerpt:

I hurried to get out and get to her side of the car to help her. She was just trying to stand as I arrived. She was a little wobbly. I put my hand under her arm, gripping her gently, yet firmly, and helped her get her bearings. I reached around her and flipped the car door closed. She turned, put her ass against the car fender and looked up at me with her beautiful smile.

“Just let me get my legs back underneath me,” she said softly.

“Of course Mom, take all the time you need,” I told her taking both her hands in mine to help her steady herself.

“That’s nice,” she said giving my hands a gently squeeze.

“Yes it is. I have always enjoyed holding your hand. They were always so warm when I was growing up in Appleton.”

“It did get cold there in the winter, didn’t it?”

“It did. I remember coming in from playing in the snow, hands red with the cold. You would take each one and grasp them between yours and warm them up. It felt so good, just like now.”

Mom cleared her throat, pushed herself off the car. She was standing right up against me. She pulled her hands from mine and placed them on my chest. She patted my chest, then pushed me away gently. I stepped back, turned and offered my arm to Mom. She smiled, placed her arm though mine and waited. I stood there looking at her. I was filled with feelings…feelings I couldn’t comprehend just now. Mom cleared her throat again. I grinned with embarrassment and led the way into the restaurant part of the truck stop.

We both rushed to the restrooms. I finished first. I stood waiting, but only for a few seconds. Mom was there, beside me, waiting. I offered her my arm once more and led the way to an empty table. The place was only moderately crowded. A waitress came right over and took our drink orders. We both ordered a diet soda. When the waitress came back we were ready to order our meal. We just ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and fries. We both ate. There was very little conversation while we did.

When we finished eating, I drove around to the pumps and filled the tank. It was only half empty. Then we were back on the road traveling northeast on the I-80. As we crossed into Nevada we whizzed through Reno. It was only two in the afternoon and the tank was still three quarter full, so I pushed on. Mom had been quiet as I drove. I too had nothing to say really, yet I wanted to get to know my mom. I had been gone a long time with only short trips home on holidays or over the summer semester.

Lovers Unknown is now available at Smashwords and the Kindle store.

Have you ever had your deepest desire or fantasy turned into reality? How would you react if it was?

Excerpt:

Michelle was on a bed, she knew she was on a bed, she could feel the soft sheets beneath her. Michelle knew it was nighttime, it was dark where she was. Michelle knew she was naked. Michelle knew all these things, except one. She didn’t know whose dick was sliding in and out of her pussy and the way she felt, she didn’t really care. Whoever it was, had started fucking her as she slept. He had her face down on the bed, sliding his fairly large cock in and out of her hot, wet pussy. The person behind her was grunting in time with his thrusts into her. She was groaning each time the hard cock hit her cervix. Michelle was floating along, wondering, whose house she was in and who was in her.

Michelle and her husband, George, had started the night at a party at a local tavern. Drinks were flowing and people were dancing. Michelle and George were some of those people. The party lasted until closing time. Then a group walked to the home of one of the attendees where the party continued. After about an hour, Michelle lost track of George and her senses. She remembered being undressed in the living room by a group of naked people. Then there was someone licking her pussy and another sucking on her tits. She recalled George, kissing her as he fucked her. After her orgasm, Michelle blacked out.

Yes...it's the same book as Cross Country Mom but to get it under the censors at KDP a few tweaks were needed.
Cross Country Road Trip is now available at the Kindlle store.

It was a long trip cross country, but with a beautiful woman next him it would be a pleasure for both of them.


Excerpt:

I hurried to get out and get to her side of the car to help her. She was just trying to stand as I arrived. She was a little wobbly. I put my hand under her arm, gripping her gently, yet firmly, and helped her get her bearings. I reached around her and flipped the car door closed. She turned, put her ass against the car fender and looked up at me with her beautiful smile.

“Just let me get my legs back underneath me,” she said softly.

“Of course Mom, take all the time you need,” I told her taking both her hands in mine to help her steady herself.

“That’s nice,” she said giving my hands a gently squeeze.

“Yes it is. I have always enjoyed holding your hand. They were always so warm when I was growing up in Appleton.”

“It did get cold there in the winter, didn’t it?”

“It did. I remember coming in from playing in the snow, hands red with the cold. You would take each one and grasp them between yours and warm them up. It felt so good, just like now.”

Mom cleared her throat, pushed herself off the car. She was standing right up against me. She pulled her hands from mine and placed them on my chest. She patted my chest, then pushed me away gently. I stepped back, turned and offered my arm to Mom. She smiled, placed her arm though mine and waited. I stood there looking at her. I was filled with feelings…feelings I couldn’t comprehend just now. Mom cleared her throat again. I grinned with embarrassment and led the way into the restaurant part of the truck stop.

We both rushed to the restrooms. I finished first. I stood waiting, but only for a few seconds. Mom was there, beside me, waiting. I offered her my arm once more and led the way to an empty table. The place was only moderately crowded. A waitress came right over and took our drink orders. We both ordered a diet soda. When the waitress came back we were ready to order our meal. We just ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and fries. We both ate. There was very little conversation while we did.

When we finished eating, I drove around to the pumps and filled the tank. It was only half empty. Then we were back on the road traveling northeast on the I-80. As we crossed into Nevada we whizzed through Reno. It was only two in the afternoon and the tank was still three quarter full, so I pushed on. Mom had been quiet as I drove. I too had nothing to say really, yet I wanted to get to know my mom. I had been gone a long time with only short trips home on holidays or over the summer semester.

Intimate Studies: Charlie and Mindy, Book 2

Book 2 of my Charlie and Mindy is now available from Smashwords, Carnal Pleasures, and "wherever fine ebooks are sold," as Intimate Studies, by Charles E. Magness.

Blurb:

Charlie and Mindy have just returned home from a trip into the wilderness of the Wind River Mountains, where they fell in love with each other and consummated that love. Now it's time for Charlie to return to college for his sophomore year; Mindy is to join him there as a freshman.

College academic life is difficult and stressful. Making matters worse, Mindy will be required to live in a dormitory, while Charlie is to live in a house with three other men. So the two of them will have trouble finding the privacy they need to express their love for each other. And Charlie's record as a scholar leaves more than a little to be desired, while Mindy has never earned a grade lower than an A-minus. She expects him to earn more As than Bs—and nothing lower.

Can the lovers cope with their differences? What will their lack of privacy mean for their love lives? Can Charlie make the grade? Will Mindy be able to forgive him if he doesn't? Will their love survive?

Then, as they work these things out together, they find themselves in mortal danger. Can they save themselves and each other? How?

-----------

Tags:

teen, hardcore sex, anal sex, blowjob, brother, sister, incest, college

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Excerpt:

As we descended the front steps from the porch, out of sight of any onlookers, a little hand sneaked between my legs from behind and delivered a caress to my inner thigh. Startled, I glanced at her, and collected another smoldering look. My cock throbbed.

She took my arm as we strolled from the house toward the campus. Heat—sexual heat—emanated from her. It felt as though the paint on nearby houses should be scorching as we passed them. When we had gotten far enough from the house and from other people, her grip on my arm tightened and pulled me closer. My arm, I realized, was now brushing against her tit as we walked. I glanced over at her again. She was giving me a look. It was another smoker, hotter than any yet. I had a full-fledged boner, now—nearly, but not quite, concealed by the heavy denim of my jeans.

"My panties are so wet," my little sister said. "I want you. I need you. Now!" If her behavior hadn't already given me a hard-on, that announcement surely would have. As it was, it caused substantial throbbing. "You are truly amazing," she said as she threw her arms around my neck and drew me down into another delicious kiss. As we kissed, I cupped her ass cheeks in my hands and, straightening, raised her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around me.
When the kiss ended, I held her against me, groin to groin. Knowing full well what we both like, she wiggled her hips so that her pussy rubbed against my swollen cock through our jeans. I kissed her again, and then lowered her to the ground.

"Oh," I said. "There's one more thing I need to do."

I took off my backpack, opened it, took out the quilt, and spread it, doubled, on the concrete floor. Then I turned back toward her. In the dim light of the library's lowest level, her eyes smoldered at me through her most evil, most salacious grin. She'd already shed her shirt, exposing her wonderful little tits to my lecherous gaze. She unbuckled her belt, undid her zipper, and, in one motion, dropped her jeans and her panties. I pulled off my own shirt. She stepped out of her shoes, pants, and panties.

And then my naked little sister knelt on the quilt and looked up at me. Her deep blue eyes seemed almost to glow with her desire. Smiling, she patted the empty space next to herself.

"C'm'ere, you," she whispered.

Launching 22 August 2015 from BarbarianSpy, an expanded and retitled rerelease of the GM novel, Silas’ Choices, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):


BLURB:

Former Marine, Renaissance man, and commando spy, Silas Collins makes his own unusual choices in life, work, and manner of loving. Trapped into recruiting for the CIA’s special “Candy Store” unit, finding his choices in doing his commando work grating against the wishes of his masters, and failing in love with the one man he cannot attain, Ward Spano, Silas chooses to retreat from it all. Ward Spano, however, tracks Silas down, having made a choice of his own.

This is an expanded relaunch of the eXcessica novella Silas’s Choice. The sequel to this book is published as Choke Hold.


EXCERPT:

The next afternoon I was pulled out of class and summoned to the administration building. Two of the instructors walked me over. Neither said anything about me returning to the class. I wasn’t all that surprised. Silas had been gone when I got up that morning and he wasn’t in class. I figured he’d told our handlers about me. Had his fun and then said he’d trapped me. Silas was gold; they’d believe anything he said.

It was worse than that.

And I knew it wasn’t going to be good, because all of my gear was sitting by the door of the room I was shown into. And sitting down the hall, looking at the floor, was Silas.

I sat there in the administrative office, cheery sunshine streaming in through the window, looking at the photographs: Silas fucking me, both in the gym room and in our dorm room. I had been set up. But the cameras hadn’t shot anything that wasn’t true. There was nothing there I could deny.

The man in the expensive, well-pressed suit told me that his name was Sam Winterberry and that he was putting together a new unit in the Agency, one that tracked down good intelligence the old-fashioned way.

“Do you know the quickest and most effective way to get intelligence out of a target, Mr. Pulido?”

“No, what?” I said, still stunned, not able yet to talk to the man, not able to lift my head up.

“It’s not to torture him for the information. Then he will tell you what he thinks you want to hear—anything to stop the pain. No, Mr. Pulido, the best way to get reliable information out of a target is to give him what he wants—and to make him want more. And then to deny it to him if he stops giving you information that is both good and reliable. And all the better if what he wants is something that will cause him great pain and suffering if it comes to light that this is something he wants.”

“Oh, that’s interesting . . . but what . . . ?”

“Spy candy, Mr. Pulido. I’m starting up a unit of very, very special operatives that we’re informally referring to as the Candy Store.”

“Candy?”

“Yes, and we can give you two choices, Mr. Pulido. You can be severed from the Agency—just let go without any consideration or a recommendation—because, after all, you knew very well what our requirements were when you applied for a career here, didn’t you? Or you can join the new unit I’m creating. I think you can be very useful to us—and we won’t mention whatever sexual preference you want to follow as long as it doesn’t publicly redound on the Agency. You’d be doing important work—getting good information from targets in a time-honored way, helping to dispense with any need for torture tactics. Your choice. Which will it be? All you need do is nod, and we’ll start the processing in immediately, and you can come back to Langley with me. Just a nod.”

My prospects were bleak. Of course I gave the nod.

“Ah, yes. Very good choice. We’ll leave within the hour. We’ll be arriving in Northern Virginia late, so you can spend the night at my house.”

When I left the office, Silas looked up, and I saw the pained expression in his face. I didn’t bear him any grudge. I’d known the risks, and I could only imagine what was being held over his head to participate in this recruitment. He had told me the truth about there being choices to continue with what I wanted—all that I wanted. And, if I’d been asked, I would have had to admit that, despite everything, if Silas had stood and beckoned me to him, I’d have let him do anything he wanted to do to me right there in the corridor of the administration building at the Farm.

Warrior One, an ebook written by my alter-ego, Connor Madison, is now available at Smashwords and the Kindle Store.



For thousands of years the Gar have dominated the inner clusters of the Galaxy, expanding their sphere of control outward toward the rim. For a thousand years, humankind has been expanding throughout the quadrant of the galaxy where Earth resides on the furthest reaches of the rim. The first meeting of the two races was inevitable.

Except:

The room was dark and cool, air circulating, causes a slight echo deep in the darkness. Slowly, lights flicker to life. Small red, green and white spots glowing all around the great room, start to dispel the darkness that drapes it. Then, suddenly, great overhead lights flash into existence, accompanied by a buzzing sound, banishing the darkness to the furthest reaches of the large room. The odd shapes, barely visible in the darkness, now become solid forms, consisting of couches and control boards, studded with buttons, dials, leavers, telltales and switches.

All surfaces gleam whitely, the grey couch cushions, appear soft and comfortable. Above each couch, monitors hang, just now coming to life, showing various functions and parameters. One huge screen on the wall, facing the couches flickers to life, luminescent letters scrolling across its surface. Then as the letters and numbers coalesce into words, other sounds occur, somewhere deep below the great room. Clicks, bumps, whirring sounds, loud clunks and kerchunks echo through the passageways as the waking of some great, huge beast, continues.

“Warrior on…” static interrupts the sound of a voice blaring from the speakers on the walls. “…or one, Warrior One…” more static blurs the voice.

Somewhere below the great room a drawer slides silently open reveling a capsule. The top of the capsule is clear, but frost covers the inside as if it was extremely cold. Lights wink on in sequence at the end of the capsule. Two more capsules slide out of the wall, down the aisle from the first. They too are frost covered and opaque. Lights flash in sequence on their ends. Farther below, almost at the bottom of the great machine, two more capsules emerge from a wall, inside their tops crusted with frost.

In a small cubicle, a body stirs; a frosty capsule does not surround this form. Its eyes flicker open to stare into the shadowy gloom in which it finds itself. It is instantly alert to its situation. Its hand comes up to press some buttons on the panel before its face. The little cubical is flooded with light as the panel before the body slowly opens.

My début novel, Playing for Keeps, has just been published for Kindle by Xcite Books/Accent Press.



Undeniably sexy, book one in the gripping and racy Harford Scarlet series is guaranteed to satisfy.

Defiantly single, career-driven Sarah Evans has a secret love for rugby – but has no time for sportsmen lotharios who stray away. A blast from the past sends unexpected sparks flying in her direction when she runs into Tom Murray; rugby player, tycoon, and the ultimate Casanova. She resolves to stay away from him despite the obvious attraction, but he can’t keep away from her – he wants her and nothing’s going to get in his way.

While they can’t keep their hands off each other, Sarah doesn’t want a relationship, especially not one with a rugby player with a playboy reputation. Sticking to her guns, she knows he’ll move on sooner or later, and she just has to defend her heart from Tom’s remorseless attacks. But for him, this isn’t a game; he wants her in ways he doesn’t understand, and needs to convince Sarah the same.

Can Tom convince her he really is playing for keeps?


Amazon UK

Amazon US

Past Present and Beyond

http://www.amazon.com/Past-Present-...75150&sr=1-2&keywords=past+present+and+beyond

Also available in hardcover for a lasting gift...

http://www.lulu.com/shop/amicus/pas...hts-of-amicus/hardcover/product-21707372.html

The final poem in this collection is http://www.literotica.com/p/a-girl-in-a-skirt

A Girl in a Skirt by amicus (11/29/03) 210,184

The 4th most read poem in the top list with 210,184 reads...

Illustrated Poetry A Girl in a Skirt


A Girl in a Skirt
byamicus©




I know what she looks like

right down to the skin;

well... not really,

but her close kin.


okay...at least I've seen pictures

of the thin and not so thin,

both where they end

and where they begin...


But the Mystery sly

always takes my eye

when a girl in a skirt

just... sashays on by.


She doesn't just walk,

no, nothing so plain,

but moves with such grace

as to bring me sweet pain.


A little swish, there and back,

a swing and a sway;

my heart goes pitty pat

as she moseys away.


Then moving toward me

eye catching wrinkles

hip to hip, tip to tip,

sets my soul free.


Short skirts or long

smooth fine skin

the hint of a thigh within

pulse surely bumps right along.


Since Jeans came to fashion,

a good thing, and bad;

a loss of some passion

we gents once had..


But just now and then

one is reminded when,

A Girl in a Skirt

was a tempting dessert...



byamicus©

amicus

Letting Go

I've been busy for a while now, co-writing a full-length novel with Kelli Roberts, for Wasteland.com.
It's finally finished, and it's available on Amazon for $2.99 (FREE with Kindle Unlimited for the next 90 days)!

It's been quite an interesting and educational project, and I hope that you'll all check it out.

The story is a BDSM romance, with an absolutely incredible amount of graphic sex, but with interesting and engaging characters.

This is my biggest project to date, and it's possibly my best work so far.

Here's the link to the Kindle version (available NOW!)- the print and audiobook versions will follow.

Here is a link to the book trailer

So far, sales and feedback have been remarkable, and I'm hoping that the trend continues!

Published on 12 September 2015 by BarbarianSpy, a ménage murder mystery novella, Death on a Ping Pong Table, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt). This is the expanded version of a FAWC contest story at Literotica.


BLURB:

A Knife, a Hanky, a Book, and a Dead Body.

Welcome to a hot erotic MM, MF, MMF murder mystery.

The unusual thing about Hilton Head homicide detective Quinn Fawker isn't just that he is promiscuous and gets away with it but also that he is actively bisexual and not only gets away with it, but has the looks and equipment to get away with it frequently and with many partners. When he is called to the Sea Pines compound of South Carolina U.S. Senator Bradford Braxton to investigate the finding of a body draped over the senator's ping pong table, he gets dropped into a cast of characters also accustomed to getting away with sexual shenanigans. One or more of the powerful people found at the senator's beachfront house that night is also trying to get away with murder. And it quickly becomes apart that a cover-up of the actual events is already well under way and that the death on the ping pong table is perhaps not the first death involved in the case.


EXCERPT:

The three items on the ping pong table—a handkerchief, a book, and a knife—caught my immediate attention, because they were positioned so oddly, and I found myself being a little embarrassed. What I obviously should have noticed first was the body of the young woman stretched out on the ping pong table, on her belly. I marked it as occupational jadedness, having seen so many bodies as a homicide detective in the Hilton Head, South Carolina, police force, that the body itself didn't fill my first thoughts. But I hadn't said anything out loud, so no foul.

The young woman had been a blonde. Not a natural one. I could see some dark strands under the pile of hair that radiated out from her head and covering much of the center of the ping pong table. The cause of death seemed obvious to me, given the bloody slits in her back. She was topless, the diaphanous blouse having been pulled off her back but still hanging on one of her raised arms. Both arms were raised over her head, as if she had been reaching for the far edge of the ping pong table when she'd been stabbed.

One thing was immediately clear—she probably hadn't run here from anywhere. I couldn't fathom how she'd even been able to walk on those impossibly high stiletto heels. The feet were big, so the shoes stood out. They were red, with straps encircling her legs a couple of times above her ankles. There was a smear of blood, a matching red, under the body as if she had pulled herself up the table in her death throes. The three stab wounds were in her back about where the hook of her bra would have been if the bra hadn't been unhooked, the wings of each side of the back strap flaring out from her body.

The knife hadn't been left any of the wounds. That's why it had caught my attention. A big Bowie hunting knife. Laying at the side of the body, the blade still slick with the blood. We'd check, of course, but I was sure the handle had been wiped clean of prints. I doubt there was anyone who had missed the need for that who had ever watched a crime show on TV.

She couldn't have been dead for very long. Blood only glistens like that for so long. The shimmering effect was enhanced, though, by the light in the overhead ceiling fan being deflected rhythmically by the slowly wonk, wonk of the blades.

The handkerchief and the book had also been odd, which is why my attention had gone to them. The handkerchief was navy-blue and in a rough cotton that didn't go with what the victim had been wearing—or, rather, had barely been wearing. The obviously coordinated color scheme of her attire had been pinks and a rose color. The blouse was some sort of almost transparent white rayon, and rose-shaped flowers painted on it in pinks and reds that probably were designed to cover the strategic areas blouses are supposed to cover because the base material certainly wouldn't.

The skirt, an almost fluorescent rose, was probably a tight miniskirt of a silky texture. I say probably because it was bunched up around her waist. In contrast, the pink panties had been pulled down in back below the orbs of her buttocks.

I suppose if I hadn't been distracted by the handkerchief, book, and hankie, my first attention would have gone to her butt cheeks, which were nicely rounded and were fully, obscenely exposed. I can respond to a nicely mounded ass of any persuasion. The orbs were unusually firm for a woman, as were the muscles of the thigh. A dancer perhaps, I speculated.

Certainly one of the first-responding policemen—Chad, I think his name was—couldn't keep his eyes off the butt cheeks. The better-looking, better-toned young policeman who I knew as Ted, though, was looking at the same thing I was. The rough cotton, navy-blue handkerchief. That had a meaning in my world. It was incongruous to see it in this venue. I instinctively felt for my back left pocket and was reassured that my own navy-blue handkerchief was still buried there.

Now available at Smashwords and the Kindle Store, my alter egos new title - Call of the Dove.



Blurb:

Family. Everyone has one. Everyone depends on them at one time or another. Watch as this close knit family cares for and watches over each other. This family, however, is very special indeed. With special friends to help them.

Except:


That was the song. It was blaring from the radio speakers. Stevie Nicks, Edge of Seventeen. It went well with the roaring growl of the cars engine as John sped down the highway. Sped. John was doing one-thirty-five. That’s miles per hour. One hundred thirty five miles per hour. The telephone poles flashed by on the right side of the car. The seams in the highway were one continuous thump. He was in a hurry. She had called, almost hysterical. Someone was in the house with her. They were banging around downstairs. John called the police, but he was closer than any county deputy. She sounded frantic as he had to hang up. She was going to lock herself in the bedroom.

His turn was quickly approaching. He slowed. Not quite enough, fortunately the skid wasn’t all that bad. John recovered nicely and accelerated down the road. Two more miles. Just two more mile to go. The car roared its anguish into the night. John was lucky the roads were as smooth as they were. Railroad tracks loomed in the distance. John slowed hard again. Ninety-five. The car was air born as it shot over the tracks. It hit the ground hard on the other side. John pressed the accelerator to the floor. The engine bellowed its mating call into the surrounding darkness. One twenty, the speedometer would go no higher. There was smoke pouring from the back of the car as it raced down the road.

“Come on girl you can do it. Please?” John cried into the night.

One mile. Just one more mile. Five thousand feet, just a measly five thousand feet. He could see the outside lights of their house shinning brightly. The car’s engine was starting to make some unpleasant noises.

“Come on baby. Just a little farther,” he whispered trying to coax more speed from his baby.

The car didn’t start to sputter until John had to lift off the gas. He couldn’t take the curve up ahead at full throttle. John could now see their driveway. He could almost reach out and touch the damn thing. When he tromped on the gas again, the car sputtered even more. It slowed drastically. Twenty miles per hour and dropping. John could see the glow of the engine out his side window. The car was on fire, as it slowed the flames shot out of the scoop on the hood. He was just one hundred feet shy of their drive. John opened the door and stepped out of the slowly rolling car. The car continued slowly down the road as he ran up the driveway to the house. It was a hundred yards up to the house.

The explosion shocked him, almost knocking him to the ground. She had been a good car, a great car, lovingly restored from a rusty old junker. John would miss her. Millie. His Millie was in trouble, he had to get to her. John was huffing. He was puffing. He was on the verge of passing out when he reached the back door. His knees were on the verge of giving out on him. Then John could hear screams from inside. His wife’s screams. Even though his heart was pounding in his chest, he entered as quietly as he could, gulping air into his oxygen starved lungs. John paused in the dining room for his pistol, which he grabbed out of the gun-safe. Clip full, round in the chamber. His Millie screamed again, a shrillness edging her voice. John heard low, gruff voices shouting back. More than one of them.

He could hear the sirens of the county cops. So could the intruders. They didn’t seem to be in any rush. Climbing the stairs as quietly as he could, John gripped the pistol tightly with both hands, muzzle pointing up, ready to point and shoot. Peeking over the top stair in the flight, he saw them. Three men. They were scrambling around the bed trying to get Millie to not only shut up but to drag her down off the bed. She stood there, legs spread for balance, a grim look on her lovely face, swinging an aluminum baseball bat. Two of the men already had bloody noses. When Millie connected with one of them again, John shot another in the leg. Then another. The third stepped out of his line of fire as his pals fell to the floor. The door slammed shut.

“Millie down,” John yelled stepping up into the hallway.

“Down,” she shouted back.

He ran up the hall. He hit the door at full speed. The door was ripped from its hinges as it fell into the room. John was lying on his side atop the door. Gun pointed at the third man. The man just stood there staring at him. He had the bat raised above his head. John squeezed the trigger and shot him point blank in the chest. One of the others was suddenly on top of John, punching and grabbing and biting. He was trying to get the gun. Then the guy just fell to John’s side unconscious. Millie stood over both of them, bat in hand, looking down at her husband. The third guy was moaning loudly across the room. John had caught him in the knee almost taking the lower leg clean off.

John climbed to his feet. Millie flowed into his arms. Only then did she start crying. John held her tight as feet pounded up the stairs. Neil Mason, the sheriffs deputy who patrolled the area, stepped through the bedroom door. Gun at the ready he looked the situation over. When he saw Millie and John were all right he lowered his pistol and holstered it. Shaking his head he started to handcuff one on the three men.

“This guys still alive. You must be slipping John.”

“He rushed me,” John replied still holding Millie.

“These two will be limping for the rest of their lives,” Neil said.

Two more deputies came rushing in. They checked at the door. Then they checked on the other men, while Neil radioed his dispatcher.

“I’ll need your gun,” Neil said once he was off the radio.

“Sure, no problem,” John replied removing the clip, ejected the round in the chamber and handing the gun, clip and round to Neil.

“I’ll see you get this back after the arraignment.”

“Thanks Neil.”

An expanded relaunch on 19 September 2015 by BarbarainSpy of the GM sports novella, “Tank and Bull,” by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):


BLURB:

Tank Sullivan, defensive tackle for the Virginia Hornets semipro football team, is a talented athlete who could go far if he could just keep the plays from the playbook clear in his mind. Tank has a dogged belief in himself, though. By whimsy, he teams up with a lame pit bull, Bull, who hasn't had an easy life to this point. The two drive haphazardly off in the car Tank has stolen from his long-suffering housemate and lover, Craig, on an odyssey of adventure and discovery toward Tank's dream of a "piece of cake" tryout with the Tennessee Titans in Nashville.

Along the route, Tank, with the help of his canine companion, discovers what's really important in life and how one should relate to others.

This is an expanded erotica edition of the book with the title "Tank 'n Bull".


EXCERPT:

"Well, if you were to have a dog, which one of these would you have?"
"I have all of these dogs."
"Yes, of course you do, silly boy. But if you could only have one of them, which would it be? I mean, if I were walking down the street with a dog, what kind of dog that I'd be walking would make you want to stop and—?"

"Ssst." Phil was standing behind the back of the kennel owner and was making wild, silent cutting motions across his throat. That was the basic problem with Casey, he thought—well, one of the basic problems. He had the subtlety of a train-crossing signal.

"You want a dog to catch men?" the kennel owner said incredulously, the light bulb of enlightenment flickering on over his head. "I breed these dogs for huntin'. These are huntin' dogs. I don't—"

"Well, of course you don't," Casey interjected with a big, placating smile on his face. "And of course that's not what we want a dog for," Casey added, although of course that was exactly what he and Phil wanted the dog for.

He more than Phil. Phil thought it was the most cockamamy idea he'd heard from Casey this week—and that was saying something. But Casey was Casey, Phil liked doing Casey in bed, and Casey had convinced him that having another guy with them would be twice the fun. So Phil was letting Casey run with this idea. At least he was until he could think of a better or quicker way of doing this. He'd taken Casey to Nation's, a Richmond gay pickup bar, a few nights, saying he thought the direct approach was the best. But three nights in a row and Casey hadn't seen anyone in the bar who interested him.

"I think we need a hunky athletic type, Phil," Casey had said. "That's what I'd like. Isn't that what you'd like, Phil?"

"Yeah, sure," Phil had answered, although the longer they'd been at it, the less enthused about trying a threesome he'd become.

Worth Fighting for

My first ever ebook a Novella called wort Fighting for is now available from Smashwords.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/478251

The Blurb

When Jenny Trenchard opened her front door she thought she was looking at a ghost. When she came to she found her ghost in the shape of handsome Captain Gordon Menzies bending over her offering water. When she finds that Gordon is a broken man in more ways than one she is desperate to help. However, Jenny has secrets of her own. She is running away from her past, a past which is rapidly catching up with her. As their relationship develops the pair soon find they have more problems to face. They both have to confront their past in order to have a future.

Synopsis.
Having most of his patrol killed or seriously injured Gordon Menzies is carrying a lot of guilt around. He views his own injury as a punishment for failing his men. Jenny sees a man with physical and mental injuries, but in all other respects as hot as hell. However Jenny is also running away. When Jenny's life is threatened Gordon forgets all about his reluctance to take more responsibility. He whisks her away to a highland estate, somewhere he knows he can defend.

So there you are, it's out there. No doubt I will get to hear people's opinions.

Nina September

Nina September has just been published by Zarhmae Press. It is available in paper and Kindle.

redzinger said:

My début novel, Playing for Keeps, has just been published for Kindle by Xcite Books/Accent Press.

Undeniably sexy, book one in the gripping and racy Harford Scarlet series is guaranteed to satisfy.

Defiantly single, career-driven Sarah Evans has a secret love for rugby – but has no time for sportsmen lotharios who stray away. A blast from the past sends unexpected sparks flying in her direction when she runs into Tom Murray; rugby player, tycoon, and the ultimate Casanova. She resolves to stay away from him despite the obvious attraction, but he can’t keep away from her – he wants her and nothing’s going to get in his way.

While they can’t keep their hands off each other, Sarah doesn’t want a relationship, especially not one with a rugby player with a playboy reputation. Sticking to her guns, she knows he’ll move on sooner or later, and she just has to defend her heart from Tom’s remorseless attacks. But for him, this isn’t a game; he wants her in ways he doesn’t understand, and needs to convince Sarah the same.

Can Tom convince her he really is playing for keeps?


Amazon UK

Amazon US

Click to expand...

As mentioned, it's currently FREE on a special offer for a few days.

N'awlins Exotica Paranormal Series Banned on Amazon and ARe

My twin vamps are too hot for Amazon and ARe, so I'm giving them away for free on Smashwords. Twinlove with romance and intrigue!

First Book

Mon Frere, My True Love

Twin vamps Ryland and Ryder Durand are only different in personality while the rest is exactly the same. Ryland, the author is calm and conservative while Ryder the club owner is wild and lewd.

However, the brothers share the same dark desire and haven't informed one another. Will that bring them closer together or sever their relationship for all eternity?



Book 1 https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/298869

Book 2 https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/327388

Book 3 https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/373938

Book 4 https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/420893

N'awlins Exotica Series

Book 1 I Like Em Pretty

New Orleans is supposed to be the big easy. One night changes everything for Frankie Choteau.

New Orleans. A city rich in tradition, diversity, and on the comeback trail from hurricane Katrina. Francois “Frankie” Choteau, a resident of this town, a cop with a hot temper and low tolerance for bs. Kajika Fortier, a transplant from Oklahoma came here looking for a dream and unfortunately it’s turned into a nightmare. On a hot summer night, they meet and cross paths during a very difficult situation. Despite this, the attraction between them is evident and loneliness for both men is a fate worse than death. They’d both like a chance at happiness but will the circumstances and Frankie’s uneasiness prevent their happy ever after?

Excerpt (PG Violence)

Shots rang out in the darkness, causing dogs in this normally quiet part of the Garden District to howl. Within this small community inside of New Orleans, violence was truly a rarity.
“Bob… ohh, shi—” Kajika Fortier stared at the slumped, pale body in front of him and tears fell from his eyes. Clothed in only a white robe, he backed up and leaned against the wall to keep from fainting. A chill shot up his back, making his teeth chatter. He slid downward, still mesmerized by the sight of his lover with the gun in his hand and the single gunshot wound to the head. “I could’ve helped you, Bob! H−how could you? I thought you—” Tightness increased in his chest and he punched it once to calm himself. His clammy hands stuck to the floor and dry mouth prevented him from thinking coherently. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his head.
What next?
“What the—oh shit, I need to call the fucking cops!” Kajika fumbled inside the housecoat pocket, searching for his cell. His eyes were still affixed to the wound, to the blood seeping from Bob’s head, staining his silver hair. “Jesus Bob, what the hell? I swear—” He feverishly punched the digits on the phone —911. “Um, uh, hello? Yeah, um, I… my… oh shit, please help! My fucking boyfriend… uh fiancée… is dead! Yeah, um, we had a fight and damn, he pulled the trigger! I swear I did nothing wrong, ma’am! Can you hurry over here, puleeze? This shit’s freaking me out!” Kajika’s hands shook and he bit his lip while he waited for the operator to say she’d dispatch an ambulance and the police. “Yeah, it sure looks like he’s dead. With a single bullet to the head? Well, I don’t know, what do you think? I’m pretty sure he’s singing with the angels right now, honey!”
Is he dead? Well shit, looks that way to me!
“Can you just send help, please? He’s dead and I can’t be in here with him right now. It’s just creepy…his eyes are open and ughh… just hurry!” Kajika pulled the receiver away from his ear and brought his knees up to his chest. “Yes, 613 Garden Way—in the District! Uh huh, I won’t touch anything, and tell them just to bust in. I’m not sure I can move right now!”
“Do you need medical attention?” The voice on the other end spoke and attempted to calm Kajika’s nerves.
“I don’t think so. Just get the police here. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink after tonight. Yeah, all right! Hurry!” Kajika dropped the phone, not bothering to push the disconnect button. His heart continually thumped in his chest as he watched Bob, his lover, slumped over in the chair, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the temple. What the hell would he do now? No one to love and care for him with Bob gone. Going back home to the small town of Gore, Oklahoma—where being gay wasn’t accepted— was out of the question.
If I leave, they’ll think I did it. If I stay, they’ll still think I did it. Either way I’m screwed. Kajika wiped his face of sweat and tears, attempting to plan his next move. What would that be with no Bob there to be his voice of reason? The old man had a positive thought for just about every damn thing, and a propensity to play with weapons. At times, he liked to pretend he was raping Kajika at gunpoint and, in order to keep him happy, Kajika went along with it. After all, he loved Bob Kales because he took care of him like the father he’d never had. No one else was around to do that, anyhow.
“Ah Bob, damn…” Kajika pounded the hardwood with the bottom of his wound fist and gritted his teeth. “What was your deal, ya sick fuck? You could be so sweet and, at the same time, a man with some heavy issues. Still, I— I wasn’t leaving you…I never would. You’re all I got!” In obvious shock and emotionally drained, he glanced away from the ugly sight less than ten feet away, grimacing and blinking back tears. His heart wouldn’t stop racing. “I loved you, Bob. You’re the only one who saw something in me other than the stripper persona, you know? I mean, I love what I do but, sometimes, I just want to be me and you allowed me to do that.” Kajika toyed with his own moist strands. Irritated with the strays that fell into his line of vision, he ran a hand over the top of his scalp and flung the rest over his shoulders. “I’ll miss ya, Bob… I really will. I hope when I die I’ll join ya in Heaven, buddy.”
Kajika took one more look at the blood-drenched face; the grey eyes bore a hole into his soul, making him wince.
Why the fuck did it have to end like this, Bob?




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