J. Alan Veerkamp's Blog, page 10
March 23, 2016
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 37
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I chose the prompt: Use “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
Umm… uh oh…
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 37
“What is this?” I growled.
Rother rolled his eyes, openly annoyed at the interruption. “Damn it.” He swatted the kneeling man’s shoulder. “Get up.”
The young man was blond and fair, reminding me far too much of myself, wiping his mouth as he stood. My husband rose, tucking his penis away. There was no mistaking what I was witnessing. Outrage licked the corners of my vision as all sounds tunneled into an echo. I stalked over and snatched the boy by the collar, dragging him to the door.
“Get out,” I snarled as I shoved him through. Vivian stood in the doorway, a devilish smile on her pretty face.
“I’m sure deep down he only has love for you.”
She giggled.
Without conscious thought, I slapped her across the cheek, sending her tumbling against the opposite wall. The door slammed even faster with her on the other side.
“She’d better be in a condition to work tonight.”
I whirled to face Rother, agog at the idea. “I walk in on this and all you’re worried about is whether your whore can earn money tonight?”
The comment rolled off my tongue without hesitation. Apparently, rage made coarse subjects easier to utter.
“It’s a business night.”
I scoffed in disbelief. “I suppose he was strictly business as well.”
“Of course! I’m not going to risk the reputation of Delaga House on just anyone’s word of their talents.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing as he finished buckling his pants. Not one shred of remorse or fleck of guilt came off his lips. To him, this was perfectly acceptable behavior. No matter what, I refused to believe this was normal, even within Francinian culture.
“You honestly expect me to believe that was some form of employee interview?”
“How else would you expect me to assess their skills?”
Rother came around his desk, but I retreated a step, unwilling to let him touch me. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve done that with everyone on staff.”
“Short of Samantha, if they serve clients, in some shape or form, yes.”
Every lesson on comportment and civility was far beyond my reach. Years of conditioning gone in one indiscretion. I paced in circle, my hands waving about mimicking my mad thoughts. My instructions never covered such an event and I had no idea how to temper what I felt.
“Unforgivable. Would you personally bed down clients as well?”
“If they paid enough.”
My heart hammered inside my chest, burdening my lungs in sympathy. “How could you?”
“You’re well aware of how I started Delaga House, what makes you think I’m suddenly above it now? Are you seriously surprised?”
“Nauseated is a better word.” Using Rother’s immense sexual history against him was a cheap tactic, but I needed to wound him. His callous disregard of my pride called for something to balance the scales.
Rother stiffened, flattening his gaze on me. I imagine with his profession he’d been looking down upon once or twice. If he was annoyed with my unexpected presence before, now he was incensed. And I was too hurt to care. Standing up tall, he looked down his nose at me.
“You’re offended far too easily. Perhaps I overestimated your ability to conform, which is odd. Victorians are well known for following dictates without reservation.”
Controlling my anger was an unfamiliar task. Even with all the indignities suffered at my father’s hands, I’d never had such trouble reigning in my temper.
“I realize our marriage was arranged, but I still take our vows of fidelity seriously.”
“Don’t make me laugh. You were so offended by the whole affair you barely paid attention. And now, after everything you’ve learned you’re still shocked.”
“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“I haven’t done anything to you. Everything I do for the sake of Delaga House is about money. It has no bearing on you being my husband. Accept it.”
“Oh, please. Next you’ll be planning to put me up for sale to the highest bidder.”
Rother snatched me by the collar and pulled me close. “Never. You’re mine and mine alone. Your fidelity is non-negotiable. Ever.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” I said, slapping his hand away.
“No. I’m the patriarch here. Is that too much for you to understand? I can say it slower if it helps.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
Rother’s volume began to pitch. His patience was fraying. “Then stop acting the fool.”
“If we were in Victoria—”
“Victoria wouldn’t take you, you little bitch! You’re lucky I did!”
Rother’s curse struck me like a physical force and I retaliated with a fist. It didn’t surprise him. He caught my wrist and for my trespass, slammed me hard into the wall. Air rushed out of me as he pinned me by the throat, the chair rail digging into my back. Leaning in tight, his hostile words huffed across my face.
“I’m fucking sick of your judgments and complaints. Stop pretending you’re in charge or that you share an equal authority in my house.” I chilled as he began enunciating each word for emphasis. “You are my spouse and you will do your duty as you were taught. At least that uptight Victorian standard I can agree with.”
When he released me, I nearly crumpled to the floor. Rother stepped back, every inch of his body vibrating with a vicious undertone. As upset as I was, I recognized the futility of continuing the argument. If I did, I would lose in ways I could barely imagine. The tension in the room promised it. I was in the right, I knew it, but I didn’t dare take it further.
“Go upstairs and compose yourself,” Rother whispered. The dangerous edge couldn’t be mistaken. “I expect you to paste on your best face and be at my side tonight as planned. Do I make myself clear?”
My jaw was clenched so tight, my barely restrained response came hissing through my teeth.
“Yes… sir…”
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
March 17, 2016
Cover Reveal – Mix ‘N’ Match, A Wayward Ink Publishing Anthology
The heart wants what the heart wants.
Race…
Culture…
Creed…
Become little more than words in the dictionary when the heart sets its sights on its desire.
Join our authors as they explore interracial themes ranging from the challenges of loving someone from another culture to fighting for the right to love at all.
MIX ‘N’ MATCH
Celebrate diversity with us.
Pre-order Links
Don’t miss the March Sale! All Wayward Ink Titles titles are 35% off on the WIP website and 30% off on AllRomance, and 30% off on Amazon.
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/mix-n-match-a-wayward-ink-publishing-anthology/
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CYM24GE/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01CYM24GE/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01CYM24GE/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/dp/B01CYM24GE/
Book trailer
Stories Included
Forbidden
LAYLA DORINE
Sage never imagined a trip down south would lead to so many discoveries.
He also never expected to meet Eugene, who is as different from Sage as north from south.
Two young men from different backgrounds.
Can they find friendship and love while surrounded by those who consider their desires to be forbidden?
Through The Front Door
EDDY LEFEY
A front door could be many things:
Hope, fear, a fresh start, a cold expanse of nothingness.
What will Thomas Ng’s front door mean for Daniel Grimm?
Deceptive Histories
ERIC GOBER
When Miguel falls for Van, he gets caught in the crosshairs of an angry spirit.
A spirit who cursed Van’s family long ago.
Can Miguel and Van break the curse?
Or will their lives end in ruin?
Meschianza Meetings
ASTA IDONEA
Philadelphia, 1778
Lieutenant Penton has two problems: dealing with society functions and hiding his passion for Isaac, a slave.
When invited to assist with preparations for the Meschianza, he sees it as a brief escape from both.
However, the night will prove to have more to offer than he ever would have dreamed possible.
A Hopeless Mirage
KEVIN CAUCHER
After hearing “no rice” enough times, Guy decided to swear off dating apps and men, only to find himself falling for his best friend’s boyfriend.
A Touch of Paradise
ALINA POPESCU
Hauled to work in Hawaii, Tudor has little time to enjoy the island paradise.
His obnoxious friend Radu has it much easier, using his free time to set Tudor up, dangling a willing Hawaiian beauty in front of him.
Having been burned by long-distance relationships before, Tudor stubbornly resists Kahoni’s advances.
But can Tudor be worn down enough to enjoy a touch of paradise?
A Surprising Service
A LUSCH
It’s another frustrating chore in Nick’s day: getting the boiler serviced.
But when Prince walks through the door, it’s not just the heating that gets hot.
Belong
LILY VELDEN
Sent by the Royal Flying Doctor Service to curb an outbreak of influenza in an Australian outback aboriginal community, Dr. Dan is ready for anything.
Except Tommy…
A half-caste aboriginal who feels he doesn’t belong…
Anywhere.
Kiss of the South
KASSANDRA LEA
The north and south have been divided by war. But love has other plans for Joseph Calder and Ephraim Pickett.
Home
DALE CAMERON LOWRY
What if the man you thought you could never have was waiting for you all along?
Giveaway
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March 16, 2016
First Swallow of Spring by Asta Idonea
First Swallow of Spring
Asta Idonea
16 March 2016
Torquere Press
Short Story/MM
The first swallow of spring draws Seanán back to the fae circle each year. There he dances with the handsome fae lord, Iorweth. He knows the rules he must follow if he wishes to be free to leave at the end of the night; however, Iorweth is growing ever more inventive in his attempts to trick Seanán into breaking them.
Audio Excerpt: https://soundcloud.com/nickijmarkus/first-swallow-of-spring-mm-short-story-excerpt-by-asta-idonea
Torquere Press Pre-Order Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=200&products_id=4637
Excerpt
“Seanán will be dancing with none but me.” The words were softly spoken, yet the tone brooked no argument, and at this utterance, the others scurried away and a new figure stepped into view.
A wave of contentment flooded through Seanán. “Iorweth.” He accepted Iorweth’s proffered hand, and Iorweth pulled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. He gazed up at the regal figure. “I have missed you.”
“And I you. Shall we dance?”
Iorweth swept Seanán into his arms and they spun toward the edge of the clearing. The others made room for them and they joined the chain, circling the stone in a dance of pure delight. The music came from no discernible source, but it filled the air, bright and bell-like, and between its magical refrains, the fae laughed, clapped, and cavorted in the moonlight.
Seanán followed Iorweth’s lead. The rest of the world melted away as he lost himself in the fae lord’s glimmering, emerald eyes. This was the time of year he felt most alive. In the long months between these meetings he survived on memories and dreams. They kept him going, but nothing compared to being here in Iorweth’s arms. The press of his hand on Seanán’s back—that was the brilliant reality. The rest of his life was colorless.
Iorweth pulled him closer until their bodies met. Warmth spread through Seanán and he sighed and rested his head against Iorweth’s chest. Surely they had danced for long enough. Surely Iorweth would soon take him to the stone. Yet, on and on they danced. They twirled and dipped and swayed, never breaking from the circle. Seanán should have felt dizzy. At the very least he should have grown weary. But when he was with Iorweth, he always had boundless energy. So long as their hands touched, Seanán believed he could go on dancing without pause, forever.
Author Bio & Links
Asta Idonea (aka Nicki J Markus) was born in England, but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.
Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only between MM and mainstream works but also between traditional and indie publishing. Her works span the genres, from paranormal to historical and from contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring into her mind!
As a day job, Asta works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare time she enjoys music, theatre, cinema, photography, and sketching. She also loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel; all of which have provided plenty of inspiration for her writing.
Blog: http://www.nickijmarkus.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NickiJMarkus
Twitter: https://twitter.com/NickiJMarkus
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4567057.Nicki_J_Markus
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nicolamarkus
Amazon Author US: http://www.amazon.com/Asta-Idonea/e/B00RMGGVYO
Amazon Author UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Asta-Idonea/e/B00RMGGVYO
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 36
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I chose the prompt: Use “Better late then never.”
Nathan finds out what in the boxes.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 36
“What do you mean they’re mine?” I asked.
Blythe shrugged. “That’s what the workmen said.”
The crates were nondescript, simple, crude wood constructs. No address or transport seals marked the rough surfaces. What could they be?
“Did they say who sent them?”
“They didn’t know.” Blythe raised the pry bar hanging from his belt loop. “Want me to crack it? Wouldn’t want you to muss yourself before tonight and all.”
Ignoring his taunt, I nodded, too curious to take his bait. Blythe wasted little time torquing the lids off both containers. The nails gave way with a jarring creak.
Fortunately, everyone present gave me space as I approached. I pulled handfuls of straw out to find what lie within. It didn’t take long. A set of familiar locksmithing manuals saw the light once I’d dusted them clean.
Next I unearthed a scarlet sash with the Monarch’s emblem at the seam. The kind a young nobleman receives when being presented the first time at court. After that I freed a small picture frame from the packaging.
“What’s all of this?” Samantha asked.
“It’s my personal effects from Victoria. My father must have finally sent them.”
The pictograph in the frame was a portrait of myself and my brothers. We were young boys then, not even been to court. Being forced to sit still for the image to be burned onto the plate was arduous at our age. Young noblemen were expected to be miniature adults, a ludicrous idea. My mother was aghast when we went running outside afterwards, tromping in the mud and ruining our clothes like little vagabonds. Back then, Finn, Thomas, and I were inseparable. Long before we’d learned to treat one another as rivals.
“Better late than never,” Blythe said.
“I suppose so.”
I continued to sift through my possessions as they dredged memories to the surface. The last several weeks in Francine had been so filled with drama and new experiences, I’d all but forgotten about the impending shipment. I think I’d written off my father’s statement of sending it all as a platitude to send me off without additional complaints. Even so, there wasn’t a lifetime worth of items between the two crates. I knew better than to except much more.
“Did they send a letter?” Harston asked, ever hopeful.
I hid a slow, cleansing inhale. “I haven’t found one so far.”
“Perhaps it’s just buried.”
“That would be nice, but I doubt my father would allow anything of the sort.”
“You don’t know that for sure—”
“It’s all right, Harston. I’ve made my peace with that.”
Had I? I wouldn’t admit such a thing, but I couldn’t be sure. Every object from my past I touched brought with it a story, not all nightmares and horrors. My life after the apothecarian visit may have been filled with harshness, but there were many years I could call happy.
I truly wished a letter would surface. As bitter as I was leaving Victoria, reading the words of my mother would be a godsend. What I wouldn’t give to read a few lines of her immaculate penmanship. Bits of gossip from the other noble houses? Her machinations to find my brothers suitable wives? I’d had no contact from any of them since I left, but in all fairness I wondered if they were waiting to hear from me first. I’d certainly made no effort. Given with how things ended, should I have?
My eyes welled as a longing from my homeland and family weighted my chest. As horrible as they could be, they were still mine, and I missed them for the first time since I boarded the carriage to the airship. And it felt like a betrayal of my heritage.
I started, sucking in a mouthful of air as a gentle hand gripped my shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Samantha asked.
I’d almost forgotten I had an audience. Slapping on my best facade, I stood up tall, discreetly wiped at the corner of my eye. My voice was less steady than I’d hoped.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I reached up and patted her hand for effect. “Just a bit misty over my lost things.”
Samantha didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t contest me either. At least she held respect for me, not like my father.
Who, strangely enough, I found myself missing as well. How twisted was that? Was the prospect of being ingrained into the decadence of Delaga House frightening enough to make me nostalgic for the man who openly showered me with disdain? My new environment may have grated on my sensibilities, but was it severe enough to make me pray for Arthur Valencus’ approval? I doubt he was capable. And why now after finally seeing a few baubles of my past?
No wonder Victorians kept their internal struggles to themselves more often than not. We weren’t equipped to face it. Our skills lied with burying our pain and proving ourselves immune.
And if this conflict wasn’t bad enough, my least favorite person appeared, possibly attracted to the noise.
“Nathan, Rother wants you in his office right away,” Vivian said.
“Right this instant?”
“That’s what he said.”
Samantha’s brow arched. “And Rother trusted you with this errand.”
“It’s been known to happen.”
Before any more could be said, I ended the conversation. “It’s all right. I’ll see what he needs.”
Wanting an escape from my packages, I made a quick pace down the hall and to the stairs. Vivian followed me close, bouncing on the balls of her feet. It was unnerving, as I imagine she planned. I couldn’t imagine what Rother would want that would include her presence as well.
By the time I reached the office, her proximity frazzled my nerves. I didn’t even bother to knock as I opened the door.
“You wanted to see me…” My words drifted away at the sight before me.
Rother sat in his chair with a young man on his knees, face first in my husband’s lap.
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
March 13, 2016
Blog Tour – Desolation Angel by Layla Dorine #mmromance #excerpt
Title: Desolation Angel
Author: Layla Dorine
Genre: Gay Romance, Contemporary, Rocker Romance
Length: Novel
Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing
Synopsis
Dare gets lost in music only he can hear.
Since childhood, it’s rolled through his mind, drowning out the rest of the world. When he comes back to himself he has the notes and lyrics for the songs his band plays. But he wonders if such talent is worth it, when the rest of his life is such a mess.
All Sionn ever wanted was Dare’s attention.
But that won’t happen as long as Dare has his ‘musical dreams’, so he keeps his attraction a secret. Too bad it’s impossible to keep anything secret when you live with your three best friends. When Sionn’s temper reaches breaking point, he sets Dare on a quest to ‘fix’ himself, in the hopes of gaining the love of the man he adores.
But Fate has a funny way of twisting things.
And ‘normal’ is just a state of mind, isn’t it? While Dare struggles to change, secrets are revealed, loyalties are tested, and the band is offered the chance of a lifetime. Can they pull themselves together fast enough to take advantage of it, or will Dare’s desire to be ‘normal’ unravel all their lives?
Book Trailer
Buy Links
Don’t miss the March Sale! All Wayward Ink Titles titles are 35% off on the WIP website and 30% off on AllRomance.
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/?p=1874
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Desolation-Angel-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B01C1E03BS/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Desolation-Angel-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B01C1E03BS/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/Desolation-Angel-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B01C1E03BS/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/Desolation-Angel-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B01C1E03BS/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-desolationangel-1989899-149.html
Excerpt
“This shit can’t happen again. No more lies, no more hiding stuff from one another. I thought what we had, what we’ve always had, was honesty. Dammit, Mark, you should have told us what the hell was going on.”
“And you should both trust me enough by now to know that I would never cheat on either of you, so don’t sit there and try to put all this shit on me. I wasn’t the one bellowing like a jealous jackass.”
Tommy raised his head and looked across the room at Mark. “What the hell were we s’posed to think?”
Mark scowled. “You’re supposed to trust me.”
“And how are we s’posed to do that when you keep things from us?”
“It was one thing, one, Tommy, and I would have told you as soon as I was sure there was something to tell.”
Paul cast a disheartened look between the two. “He’s right. Trust goes both ways, Mark. If we’re supposed to trust you completely, then you have to trust us completely and not hide shit from us.”
Mark shook his head, glaring. “So, to have your trust, I have to betray someone else’s. Is what you’re trying to say?”
“I had a right to know.” Tommy spat the words through clenched teeth. “He’s my brother.”
Giveaway
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About the author
LAYLA DORINE lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.
Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.
Layla Dorine can be found at:
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005197938547&fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/layladorine
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/layladorine/
March 8, 2016
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 35
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I skipped using a prompt. No prompt this week, my head was elsewhere.
Nathan prepares for his first night co-hosting at Delaga House.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 35
A soft rap on my bedroom door caught my attention, ceasing my circular pacing by gaslight.
“May I come in?” Samantha asked.
“Of course. What brings you here?” Samantha was one staff member I rarely had the opportunity to interact with, she was so busy running the household. She closed the door behind her and I welcomed the private moment.
“I just wanted to check in on you. Are you ready for your first night as co-host?”
“I think so.”
Closing the gap between us, her skirt rustled softly and her heels made barely a sound on the hardwood floors. Samantha looked stunning in her leather dress and top hat. Elegant and fierce, she was ready for the Delaga House festivities to begin, the ringmaster to our bizarre circus. The buckles and straps across her body and limbs should have been restrictive, yet she moved with a fluid grace all her own.
Her radiant smile warmed me as she sampled the lapel of my jacket with her fingers. “Look at you. Dignified, yet attractive, but not on display. Excellent choice. It suits you much better than your original couture.”
“I could say the same to you, my dear lady.”
She beamed. “Such a gentleman.”
“Harston selected most of it. His tastes have always been excellent.”
“Are you nervous?”
I put my hand in my pocket to stop my fidgeting of my cuffs. “Not at all.”
“Harston tells me you’ve barely eaten all day.”
I huffed. “The little snitch. He’s supposed to be my confidant.” My so-called outburst only served to draw a sultry laugh from Samantha’s full lips.
“He’s only looking out for your best interests. Everyone should have such a friend.”
“All right I admit it. I’m nervous.”
Samantha reached up, grazing her touch over my looser hairstyle with approval. “I run the operations of Delaga House on and off business hours. And I take a special interest in the welfare of everyone under its roof. Not only the staff.”
“You have enough to tasks to govern. I wouldn’t want to burden you.”
“It’s only a burden when something goes wrong when it doesn’t need to.” She cupped my cheek, the leather glove far warmer than I expected.
“And I assure you I’m ready. It’s been a difficult transition to life in Francine, but I’ll have a better chance to condition myself if I jump right in.”
“If it helps, I think you’ve done well given the sudden change.”
My cheeks flushed and I smiled. “Thank you. It does. I finally feel like I can perform my duties and stand at my husband’s side. It galls me to fall flat on that front.”
“So you’re comfortable living and working within this den of iniquity?”
The question stalled me with its brutal honesty. I’d asked myself the same several times tonight alone. Something about Samantha always drew my fascination. Perhaps it was an innate maternal quality my mother didn’t possess. No intrigue or potential duplicity sat on the edge of her words; I knew all too well how to spot such things. So, I gave her the truth. She deserved as much for all the kindness she’d shown me since I arrived.
“Please don’t take offense, but no I’m not. The whole thing flies in the face of everything I grew up with. But I’ve learned there are many so-called virtuous souls in Victoria whose sins are equal to any here. In Francine, you’re simply more honest about your vices. I have to respect that. If my marriage is to succeed, I need to stop balking at Rother’s profession. He’s made himself a wealthy man by it. That smacks of a keen intellect. I can’t begrudge him his efforts.”
With a serious tilt of her head, she continued. “But it still bothers you.”
“I imagine it will for some time. In Victoria, intimacy outside of marriage is high scandal, something to avoid at all costs. Now that I live in Francine, I struggle to adjust my views. However, putting on a happy face is a lifelong skill in my homeland. I’d like to think if I keep repeating it to myself, it will be real soon enough. I want to be able to do this for Rother.”
“You two are finally coming along well?”
“We haven’t exactly made it easy for either of us. We didn’t know each other to start, and our backgrounds are much different than I expected in a husband.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“He does have a bit of a tiresome jealous streak, but I can see us learning to love one another as time passes.”
Samantha glanced away at voices growing in the hallway. “I’m glad. Be patient with him. Rother needs someone who can balance out his considerably rough edges. You’re good for him.”
“I hope you’re right—what is that noise?”
Growing in volume, I could easily make out Harston’s voice directly outside the door.
“You can’t just go in there! That’s Rother and Nathan’s private bedroom!”
The responding growl was distinctly Blythe. “No kidding. I know where I’m going.”
My bedroom door lurched open, my bodyguard stomping in carrying two large crates stacked in his arms. Harston fumed with a futile pull on Blythe’s sleeve.
“Nathan, I’m sorry—” Harston pleaded.
Blythe shot an annoyed look at my valet. “Relax, princess. Be done in a moment.”
While it was nice Blythe was over his silence in my presence, I began wishing for a reversion.
“What is this?” Samantha asked.
“Workmen delivered them an hour ago. Can’t leave them in the foyer. It’s a business night.”
“You can’t do this!” Harston insisted.
Blythe set the crates in bedroom’s center. “I’m not carrying them back down four flights.”
I sighed. “And why pray tell are you dropping them in my bedroom?” I pinched my nose because rolling my eyes was far ruder than I wanted. Blythe stared at me as if I should already know the answer.
“Because they’re yours.”
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
March 4, 2016
Release Day Blitz – Desolation Angel by Layla Dorine
Dare gets lost in music only he can hear.
Since childhood, it’s rolled through his mind, drowning out the rest of the world. When he comes back to himself he has the notes and lyrics for the songs his band plays. But he wonders if such talent is worth it, when the rest of his life is such a mess.
All Sionn ever wanted was Dare’s attention.
But that won’t happen as long as Dare has his ‘musical dreams’, so he keeps his attraction a secret. Too bad it’s impossible to keep anything secret when you live with your three best friends. When Sionn’s temper reaches breaking point, he sets Dare on a quest to ‘fix’ himself, in the hopes of gaining the love of the man he adores.
But Fate has a funny way of twisting things.
And ‘normal’ is just a state of mind, isn’t it? While Dare struggles to change, secrets are revealed, loyalties are tested, and the band is offered the chance of a lifetime. Can they pull themselves together fast enough to take advantage of it, or will Dare’s desire to be ‘normal’ unravel all their lives?
Book Trailer
Buy Links
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WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/?p=1874
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Desolation-Angel-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B01C1E03BS/
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Excerpt
Dare closed his eyes for a moment and shivered again, realizing that he was tired and hadn’t had a meal all day. He climbed to his feet, his guitar clutched in one hand and the other gripping the railing as he swayed.Damn, he thought as he waited for the dizziness to pass. It had to be pretty late if he was feeling this dizzy and weak. With a tired sigh he shuffled inside, tucked his guitar back into its case, and wandered into the kitchen to see that the clock read a quarter to five. Holy shit. No wonder he was starving and ready to drop; he’d been on that damned porch all fucking day. He vaguely remembered heading out there at ten, with a cup of coffee, his cigarettes, and his guitar. He checked his pocket and found the pack, happy he hadn’t burned through too many. Sometimes he smoked them all without realizing it. A waste really, or at least that’s the way he saw it. If he was smoking something, he wanted to at least remember the taste of it.
His hands shook as he poured himself a glass of milk. Then he sat at the table, drinking the milk and eating an apple. It would have to do until he could get dinner cooked. He knew the others would be home soon, and hungry. Not that they really wanted him messing with the stove. His dreams were unpredictable, and twice he’d started unintentional fires, staring off into space while the pan beside him burned. Today, though, he figured it would be fine, easy really, to cut up an onion, brown some beef, and toss soup into the pot on top of it to make a meal. He tried hard not to hum as he worked. He tried not to think of music at all. Instead, he wrote out a grocery list while the meat browned, stirring it occasionally so it didn’t burn. He forced himself to focus on what they needed and not the soft rhythm pulsing in the corner of his mind.
It helped to think of the last time he’d burned a meal and Sionn’s disgusted reaction as he’d stood with the fire extinguisher in hand, red faced, and screaming about how Dare couldn’t manage to go thirty goddamned minutes without drifting away to dreamland and how he could have burned the whole place down goddammit all to bloody hell! Dare focused on how ashamed he’d felt over the mess he’d made and how angry he’d made Sionn, and he finished cooking the meal without incident. He checked the time. They’d all be out of work by now, unless one or more had been asked to work overtime, in which case, they’d all be late, coming home in the car they shared. Dare sat at the table listening to the tick of the clock and idly drumming his fingers against the wood.
While he waited, he let the music take over. He lay his head down on the table and stared at the counter, his eyes glazing over as he entered the waking dream. He was oblivious to the roar of the Charger’s engine as it pulled up to the house, the slamming of doors, and the chatter of voices as the other members of the band came in.
About the author
LAYLA DORINE lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.
Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.
Layla Dorine can be found at:
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005197938547&fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/layladorine
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/layladorine/
March 2, 2016
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 34
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I skipped using a prompt. No prompt this week, my head was elsewhere.
Nathan and Rother discuss Delaga House in his office.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 34
I resisted the urge to tap my fingers on the chair rail. “So once you’ve decided I’m ready, in what capacity shall I be working for Delaga House? I think it’s fair to assume you don’t want my help with the accounting.”
Rother closed the ledger before him. “I should say not.”
The office was as lush as the rest of Delaga House with its rich, wine colored walls and elegant furniture. I stood calm before the massive carved mahogany desk, in spite of the lack of rigid Victorian dress designed to force one upright. Francine may have held a laxer standard, but I doubted a lifetime of teaching would ever undo my automatic manners and posture.
“You’ll be my co-host. On my arm at all times and using your precious protocol lessons to dazzle my high-end clients.”
As much as I felt capable of playing my part and that the nature of Delaga House’s business appalled me, I was grateful Rother had paid enough attention to know how I would be most useful. Years of lessons wouldn’t be wasted after all.
“I think that makes the most sense. I want to contribute. The idea of lazing about the house being idle sounds horrible.”
Rother placed the book into the wall mounted safe, filled with cash and other random items. Its cast iron door closed with a solid thunk and whirr of the combination. A simple but effective construction, it was well manufactured.
“And my business practices don’t offend you any more?”
“Of course they do. But I think not doing my part to support my husband is a shameful way to exist. Even Victorians believe that in spirit.”
“Even under these circumstances?”
I had to pause. It all still bothered me, but I worked to contain it. “I’d like to believe even the staunchest moralist family in Victoria has a secret or two amongst them. I don’t have to abandon everything to be by your side.”
“Boss, about tomorrow night—” Blythe walked in and rooted himself in the doorway at the sight of me. His face impassive and unreadable, a tight tension coiled through his massive frame as he continued to stare me down. I braced myself for the sly grin and jibe about the other night, but he stood wordless, which confused me greatly. Where was the crass joke that would leave my blushing in horror?
“What about tomorrow night?” Rother asked.
Blythe shook himself out of his macabre silence, grumbling out a response. “You’re busy. I’ll come back.”
With his head held low, he rushed out of the office. I watched him storm down the hall, not even looking back over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Last night I’d imagined and rehearsed various scenarios so I could prepare myself for his crude wit with a scathing retort, so Blythe’s behavior left me a bit dumbstruck.
Rother’s voice directly behind me made me jump. “What was that all about?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s upset with me after I interrupted him and Harston the other night.”
“How do you mean interrupted? You never really said what happened.”
I huffed and rubbed my forehead, trying to ignore away the memory. “I pushed open the door without knocking. And there they were.”
“What did you do?”
“I was too shocked to do anything. I suppose the sight kicked a few gears loose in my head.”
Rother’s brow arch in surprise, his volume rising. “So you stood there and watched?”
“Not on purpose, and not for long. They saw me and stopped.”
“I imagine Blythe wasn’t pleased.”
“Understandably, neither one was.”
“Was Blythe angry?”
I shook my head. “I think so, but it’s hard to be sure sometimes. I had no idea what to make of his reaction.”
“What did he do?”
“He waltzed over, as easy as you please, and shut the door in my face. He didn’t even attempt to cover himself. The man has zero modesty.”
Rother stepped around me, deliberately blocking my view of the hall. His visage darkened as his question took on an unpleasant growl. “Give you a good look, did he? Is that why you were so eager when you returned?”
Once again, I was faced with his more possessive nature. I wasn’t sure if I found it flattering given the implication. The idea was utterly ridiculous. Hopefully this wasn’t going to be a recurring headache to bear.
Reaching up, I caressed his jacket lapel between my fingers as I tilted my head without losing eye contact. “If I recall, you planted that seed in my ear before I’d left the room.”
The ugly jealous vibration in my husband faded as he pondered. “I suppose you’re right.” The snarl curled into something wicked as he reached out, gently closing and locking the office door. “Perhaps we should take this time to continue your education. I believe there are essential skills you should be practicing.”
Invading my personal space, he ghosted his fingers through my hair, sending shivers racing over my skin. Combined with his proximity, my resolve was beginning to fracture. His skill at unravelling me with simple efforts continued to frustrate me. I knew full well what Rother was after, but being coy was in my nature, even if I enjoyed—if not looked forward to—my lessons. I would never be some cheap public house tart begging for sweaty attention.
“What exactly did you have in mind, sir?”
The chuckle as Rother traced my lips with his fingertip was sinful, bringing my body to further attention. With a casual step, he circled me, heading for the guest chair facing the desk. Hooking the leg with his foot, he rotated the chair to face the room. Rother unbuckled his trousers and fished out his swelling sex. Dropping himself into the seat, he leaned back and spread his thighs wide. He beckoned me with a simple gesture.
“Some skills are best performed and practiced on your knees.”
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
February 28, 2016
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February 23, 2016
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 33
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I skipped using a prompt. No prompt this week, my head was elsewhere.
Nathan discusses things with Harston.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 33
Rother rose from the breakfast table, dropping his napkin into his plate. “I have business in the city today.”
“Will you be back later?” I asked.
“In time for supper, I think.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”
I watched my husband strut out the door, smiling as he adjusted his cuffs.
Out of habit, Harston collected our dirty breakfast plates. “Lord Rother seems to be in good spirits.”
“He was taken care of well last night. How are you faring this morning?”
Harston blushed. “I’m well, thank you.”
I waited for Harston say more, but he was silent as I followed him into the kitchen. He passed the dishes to the housekeeper to wash and moved back into the dining room. Barely a word had been spoken between us since I walked in on him and Blythe last night. The uncharacteristic behavior unsettled me. Barging in as I did was something I’d like to forget, but I would think our relationship could weather the awkward moment. Was his silence telling a larger story?
Now that Rother had left, I hoped he would confide in me. Harston witnessed far more intimate details of my life over the years than I of his. Our relationship was more important in some ways than the one I shared with my husband. I waited to hear something. Anything. But his eyes shifted away at every opportunity and I realized I would need to act first.
“So, you and Blythe…”
Harston glanced at another staff member and spun away, making quick steps towards the sunporch door. “Yes.”
Outside, I directed us to the garden, surrounding us in trees, foliage, and a modicum of privacy difficult to find in Delaga House. Clearly, Harston wanted a lack of witnesses. Choking down the edge of my impatience, I kept a sweet demeanor as we strolled through the lush backyard.
“I have to admit I was a bit taken aback.”
Harston’s response was hesitant. “No more than I.”
“I hadn’t realized he was so keen.”
“Blythe is a relentless man.”
An awful thought came forward, somehow justifying Harston’s reluctance. One I didn’t want to believe. “He didn’t… force you—”
“No! Of course not. I would have said something. Blythe is… strangely persuasive.”
There was a kind of wistful tone to his words which piqued my curiosity, but good sense warned me off asking what my bodyguard could do to seduce my valet.
“I suppose he has his skills.”
“Oh yes he does.”
Given Blythe’s lewd behavior, I didn’t need more of a picture than I already had. Before gruesome details could emerge, I redirected the conversation. “Am I to believe you and he are together now?”
“You mean…”
“A couple?”
Harston pulled a face, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Blythe is a fun bloke, but we’re only having a laugh. I’m not the man he’ll settle down with. Even if he would.”
“And why not? There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“No, I’m just not the right man for him.”
Ingrained lessons came to the front and I blurted out my comment as if I’d never left Victoria. “I’m not sure I approve of such casual liaisons.”
“Why do you think this was so hard? I may have been born in Victoria, but I was never a nobleman. We servants looked up to you lot, wanted to be like you, but knew we never would be. Holding such high virtues were your goal, not ours. And knowing how your brothers caroused with the maids, some of the lords held those standards higher than others.”
I cursed myself internally. Expecting Harston to follow Victorian protocols when he was not a noble or living in a Victorian manor was hardly fair. The goal was to soften my rigid edges. Shouldn’t he be afforded the same option? Perhaps I was jealous of his ability.
“Are you happy with such an existence?”
He shrugged. “For now. Sometimes we have to take our happiness in small doses.”
“From what I saw, it wasn’t that small.”
Harston gaped at me. “Nathan!”
I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh! I didn’t mean to say that out loud!”
We stared at one another until both of us burst into laughter. My hand did little to stifle my hysterical outburst as I howled until tears began to form. The nearest tree became a makeshift support, keeping me from falling into an undignified pile. In our outrageous foolishness, I forgot to care enough to look and hide myself from spying eyes.
“That was scandalous,” Harston said, each word stilted between fits of humor.
I struggled to catch my breath as more chuckles bubbled out of me. “I know! I can’t believe I said such a thing. I really am sorry for walking in the way I did.”
“No more than I am. I worried you’d be upset.”
“I’d like to believe we’ve been though enough together to forgive both our transgessions.”
“Back home, you’d have sacked me.”
My amusement drowned in the reality. Harston was right. In Victoria, a servant openly caught in a delicate position would be let go immediately. The risk of allowing such scandal to play out under your roof couldn’t be allowed. It could stain the household reputation, which was unforgivable. With what I’d learned of my family, it was the height of hypocrisy.
“You’re probably right. But we don’t live in the walls of Victoria any longer. I don’t need to follow all of its stuffy rules if it doesn’t suit me any longer.” I quietly laughed at myself in reflection. “Maybe living here has rubbed off on me after all.”
“Maybe it has.”
“Do you think it’s a good thing?” Is it possible I was changing? It was a somewhat difficult proposition to see. The last thing I wanted was to lose myself in the transition.
Harston replied with a bright grin; the kind that lightened the world with its subtle brilliance. “I’d like to think so.”
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
