J. Alan Veerkamp's Blog, page 13
December 15, 2015
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 23
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. Don’t hate me, just read and enjoy. lol
Nathan gets his first look at Delaga House at night.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 23
Since I had yet to learn the layout of Delaga House, I went back the way I came up. I followed the back stairwell passing the occasional servant, all of which stepped at a determined pace between floors. The deeper I went, the more my resentment at Rother twisted itself into nerves. I had no idea how Rother would react to my escape. Once I found the kitchen, everyone was far too busy to give any awareness to me. I walked with anxious steps, caution sharpening my observations.
I followed the growing layers of conversation into the hall leading to a vast sitting room. The gaslights lit whorls of pipe smoke, leaving the foyer hazed in amber. An ornate clockwork musicbox against the wall played a tinny tune adding a playful atmosphere. A grand number of mostly men milled between the expansive rooms, in and out of the foyer. Were these Rother’s customers?
They came in all levels of status from coarse to elegant. One could tell by their stance and bearing. A strange mix of classes to do business with one another. I watched how they all interacted. It didn’t take long to recognize Rother’s employees from the patrons. The men were all dressed with the rakish flair reminiscent of Rother’s casual yet smart attire. Dressed in open collared shirts and suspenders, they catered to customers, chatting away like long lost friends. The women were something else entirely. They all wore dresses like my mother fancied, yet with far less material, and far more leg and cleavage showing. Giggling and heated glances were passed back and forth; my face heated with their open behavior. Vivian trailed a brazen finger down the chest of a wealthy gentleman who grinned over the attention. So rapt in her task, she never noticed me pass.
I schooled my discomfort at the display. Clearly, this was part of Francine’s customs I needed to adjust to. I was determined not to be offended so easily by things different from my homeland.
Trying to blend in, I followed along the wall, doing my best to watch without participating. A few of the staff I recognized served drinks to the crowd. I had yet to see Rother, Samantha, or even Blythe, but given the number of folks present, it wasn’t surprising they were lost among them.
It didn’t take long for me to find my annoyance once again. Did Rother really think I’d embarrass him at a party? Managing social functions was part of my schooling. I realized my ignorance of Francinian culture was a hindrance, but I wasn’t backwards. I could have managed with a little coaching. With the exception of the ladies’ fashions, this wasn’t all that different from a Victorian soiree. Minus the wanton frivolity, of course.
An odd mix of soft cheers and other sounds I couldn’t place drew me into the adjoining salon positioned across the foyer from the sitting room. It took some time to weave through the people, as the crowd’s density increased the closer I came. Squeezing between a pair of gentleman, I entered the room.
Everywhere I looked, men played games at several tables. A group of men sat focused on the cards in their hands, ignoring the cacophony around them. Another group watched intently while one player threw dice down the long run at another station. Mounted along the far wall, a large wheel painted into pie sections with numbers spun, the waiting players locked onto the possible outcome. People cheered and groused depending on how each round finished and how much money changed hands. The more I watched, the more uneasy I became.
They were all gambling.
Everything going on in this room was illegal.
My husband was running an illicit business and bound by marriage, I was a part of it. Did every piece of artwork and decoration in Delaga House come from criminal funds? Now I understood why Rother didn’t want me down here. He knew this wasn’t right and I wouldn’t approve—couldn’t approve. Rother didn’t want me to know how sordid his dealings were. I knew nothing of this kind of life and now I lived in the middle of it.
I wasn’t prepared for this. I needed to speak to Rother. I needed him to explain it all, but I couldn’t see him through the crowd. All my previous fury and efforts to adapt set themselves aside as my stomach twisted. The determination to be accepting fled from me in an alarming rush. Too many people dealing in scandalous activities, far too close together to me. I felt confined, surrounded by something I didn’t understand. Laughter and mirth from each and every person mocked me, smothering me in decadence. My chest tightened, pulse pounding, and every breath became labored.
I needed a safe place. Back to the bedroom. Pushing the thought’s irony aside, I turned around.
How had the throng of people become so much thicker? Getting out of the gaming salon was harder then getting in. I struggled not to shove men aside as my panic took hold. I need to go back the way I came.
An exhale of smoke burned my eyes as I navigated through the room’s center. I couldn’t risk taking the time to trace along the outer border again. I knew my reaction was irrational, but I couldn’t quash it. Only my Victorian veneer kept me calm and polite enough to prevent me from plowing down the middle of the group.
Get to the kitchen, go to the bedroom suite, and wait for Rother to explain this whole debacle, I told myself. Rother was many things, but I didn’t get the sense he’d lied to me so far. Kept silent and vague at times, yes, but what he’d shared had been truthful.
The crowd parted as my destination approached. I slipped into the kitchen and my pace came to a screeching halt by a hand gripping my arm.
“Where are you running off to, love?”
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
December 10, 2015
Blog Tour – Broken Prince, Mismatched Eyes by Layla Dorine #Giveaway #Excerpt
Is Caden too good to be true?
Hello and thank you for hosting me today. It’s a little overwhelming at times, when I stop and think about the fact that my second book has, in fact, been released. I still giggle to myself when I think about the fact that I’m a real, published author; something that has always been a dream for me. Writing has been my escape since childhood, and each of my characters holds a very dear place in my heart, mostly for who and what they represent to me.
Caden, who at times has been referred to as too good to be true, is a character who is filled with quiet strength and bitter indignation. He chooses his battles carefully, but I think it’s very important for readers to take a moment and think about why he might do so. He has no status, no place to return to if things go sour, and only his father who might help him, and even that he can’t be certain of.
Caden is also someone who takes his time before making up his mind about people. Given that he has been judged by his mismatched eyes for all of his life, he isn’t quick to be so judgmental of others. He takes his time and he watches, and he looks to see if the hidden good might outweigh a crusty or snarky exterior. In the key moments when he needs to stand his ground, he does so, and I think that is the important thing to notice about him.
In Guitars and Cages, I’d set out to show a character, in Asher, who was always poised to fight at the drop of a hat, using it as a shield and at times even a solution to just about everything. In Caden, I wanted to show the opposite. I wanted a character who could win over others with his words and deeds. Someone who could display a different kind of strength and vulnerability, while still being a hero.
Thank you so much for having me here today. I truly appreciate the opportunity.
Title: Broken Prince, Mismatched Eyes
Author: Layla Dorine
Genre: Gay romance, fantasy, historical
Length: Novel
Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing
Synopsis
All of his life, Caden DeMott’s mismatched eyes have made him the target of superstition and scorn. Though he is the son of a nobleman, he’s been allowed to run free over the hills and moors, mostly ignored by his family. No one ever thought to inform him that he had been betrothed since infancy, until the day his fiancé, Prince Rhys Gwyther arrived to marry him.
Rhys is the prince of the small island country of Mauritania, a land rich in gems, rose oil, and pearls, but poor in skilled artisans and seeds to grow crops. In order to further cement the trade route to the mainland, he’s been sent to marry a man he’s never met, and bring him back to Mauritania. Unfortunately, an accident years before has left Rhys with a lot of emotional baggage and very little trust in strangers.
But trust is exactly what Caden and Rhys are going to need if they are to make a life together, and help unravel the mystery of who’s been smuggling valuable gems and pearls off the island. Add in the realization that Caden’s stepmother, Mildred and her island representative, Maxwell, have been importing inferior goods for years, forcing Mauritania to become more dependent on them, and trust becomes even more difficult.
Caden possesses the knowledge to finally allow Rhys’ father to unravel the plot to ruin Mauritania, but only if the king and his son are willing to put their faith in Caden’s loyalty to his new home. Something that is difficult to do after Caden is accused of cheating on his marriage vows to Rhys with his guard, Luc. Will Rhys believe him innocent? Or will their marriage be over before it truly has a chance to begin?
Buy Links
Don’t miss the WIP Christmas Sale! 30% off all titles from December 4 to December 24.
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/broken-prince-mismatched-eyes-by-layla-dorine/
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/dp/B017WXGBM8/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-brokenprincemismatchedeyes-1929493-143.html
Video Trailer
Giveaway
Prize: $10 WIP Gift Card
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d3e3d66a61/
Excerpt
Rhys paused his rubbing to extract the shirt from Caden’s hand. He placed it back on the trunk and picked up the shirt Caden had tried on first. “There was nothing wrong with this one,” he commented, handing it back to him. “It matched your eyes.”
“But….” Caden frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Rhys, confusion in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t like that shirt on the ship,” Caden reminded him.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it.” Rhys sighed and slid his hand down Caden’s back. “It was just that I wanted you wear something more extravagant the first time the people saw you.”
Caden ducked his head. “I’m sorry if I embarrass you by not having many fancy things.”
Rhys felt the tension in his husband’s body and knew he was a big part of the cause. Caden had come such a long way from home, all alone, without even a familiar guard or manservant for companionship. It hadn’t really hit him until he’d woken that morning to find Petyr laying out his clothes. It was odd, now that he thought about it, that Caden’s father hadn’t sent one single servant to attend to his son. He could only imagine how much he’d added to his husband’s discomfort by constantly harping on about everything under the sun.
“You don’t embarrass me,” Rhys told him gently as he slid his fingers through Caden’s hair. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. Father Martin was right. I haven’t given you many reasons to want to stay with me, have I?”
“Not really,” Caden replied sadly.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys repeated. “I’ll work at doing better. I promise.”
When Caden turned and gave him a small smile, Rhys hugged him. He was taken aback when his husband stiffened at first, before relaxing enough to hug him back. Rhys stroked his hair lightly, enjoying the feel of the warm body pressed against him and the patchouli scent of Caden’s soap that still clung to his skin.
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/
December 8, 2015
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 22
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. Don’t hate me, just read and enjoy. lol
Nathan deals with being locked in the bedroom.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 22
Thinking back, my home in Victoria was a prison.
My brothers were the guards and my mother the governess playing both sides refusing to take either. My father was the warden, locking me away when he was reminded how I’d cast a shadow on his precious status. He exercised his authority and reveled in it. Whenever he wanted to erase my presence—which was more often than I care to admit—he closed the door with me on the other side and turned the key.
Now my husband had done the same. It might have been more palatable if he’d made the slightest effort to sound regretful as he secured my cell. He was far too calm about the whole thing for my liking.
Whether I now had a choice in the matter or not, I was not planning to live out my days having traded in one form of imprisonment for another. I may have been surrounded by finery, but it was a cage of brass and silk. Perhaps there was something amongst the Francinian people where this act would be seen as acceptable. I doubted it, but clung to the hope. Anything less chilled me.
When Rother left, I listened to his footsteps drifting away, convincing myself it was a poor joke, some Francinian custom no one bothered to share with me in the pathetically short time I’d lived here. I stood there for far too long waiting for the door to burst open, Rother and his staff initiating me into their world. I didn’t hold the fantasy close for long.
My fury grew. I wanted to rage, throw myself against the door, and beat it until my broken, bloodied fists reduced it to splinters. I wanted to track Rother down, shake him by the collar and shout in his face until he understood he couldn’t treat me this way. I wouldn’t allow it.
But I didn’t do any of these things, because I was born a Victorian lord. We didn’t stoop to such vulgarity. Perhaps that was the problem. We had so little common ground between us.
I understood how difficult I found the differences between our cultures, but I was trained in how to be the organizing force behind my husbands affairs. How to treat dignitaries and political figures and conduct social events was only a small part of my schooling since my orientation had been divulged publicly. Since arriving in Francine, I’d suffered my share of shocks, but my facade was practiced. I was Victorian, after all. Rother’s lack of faith distressed me. Did he really believe I would shame him, that I would do anything to jeopardize his holdings or harm his successes? Rother bartered for my hand with my father; he had to know this. I think I was more offended by his unwillingness to trust my skills than trapping me inside our suite.
His reasons for segregating me from everyone this evening may have been calculated, but his assessment was unfair. My wedding and arrival in Delaga House had all the hallmarks of been thrown into the deepest lake with a single swimming lesson to save myself. I struggled, but I refused to go under. I may not have shown it yet, but I was more than capable to adapting in a social situation, even connected to a business I knew nothing about.
My husband was in dire need of a lesson in what made up a Victorian lord.
I was still furious, but Victorians didn’t rant and make scenes. Victorians internalized their pain and performed acts of aggression of a more subtle variety.
Pulling out my trunk, I unpacked a smart outfit of fine wool. It didn’t have the flair of Francinian couture, but fit me well. Without Harston’s aid, I kept the chore of dressing myself simple. Forgoing the ascot, I left the top buttons undone, giving a glimpse of my chest, mimicking Rother’s casual air. I couldn’t choose one piece of jewelry, so I wore several. Multiple rings graced my fingers; several pins glittered along the edges of my clothing. The excess seemed correct. Instead of slicking back my hair, I raked my fingers through my hair, sweeping it back yet leaving it loose. In front of the mirror, I made sure every piece of clothing accented me without telegraphing a Victorian rigidity. In such a short time, Rother had taught me well without saying a word.
My outrage was well in check. It burned inside, fueling me into something more worthwhile. Filled with purpose, it drove my hand without the slightest tremble. I was far more focused than I could ever remember.
I collected my tools from the clock and approached the door. Since the disastrous attempt to open my chastity belt, my father had confiscated my lock picks. I protested of course, but it did little good; I had no power. He’d turned over my room so often I gave up trying to hide a set for years.
Fortunately, I didn’t need them to get out of here.
It took little skill to unscrew the door handle’s brass plate, exposing the lock and its inner workings. Rudimentary mechanics, I made quick work dismantling the lock, tumblers, handle and latch down the smallest screw. Each part I gathered and placed on the table next to the clock in precise order, leaving an exploded schematic of everything inside the door to educate my husband once he returned.
And if he didn’t understand that portion of the lesson, I took apart the hinges as well. I may not have been an alpha male like my husband, but I was strong enough to carry the door into the hallway and lay it on the floor. I considered pushing it over and letting it slam, but others might hear, ruining the surprise.
Once I was pleased with my work, I dusted off my clothing, stood tall, and headed for the stairwell. It was time to learn more about Delaga House.
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
December 6, 2015
Cover Reveal – Men in Uniform, A Wayward Ink Publishing Anthology
Synopsis
Like your boys in blue keeping the… peace?
Hot firemen dealing with… heat?
Naval Officers getting in way too… deep?
Perhaps you have a ‘thing’ for marines…
Or do you prefer your Men In Uniform to belong in the future?
Another galaxy?
Another time?
Wherever your love of a uniform leads you, MEN IN UNIFORM has something for you.
Pre-order Links
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/men-in-uniform-a-wayward-ink-publishing-anthology/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-meninuniformawaywardinkpublishinganthology-1939285-166.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Men-Uniform-Wayward-Publishing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B018VB6HJW/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Men-Uniform-Wayward-Publishing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B018VB6HJW/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/Men-Uniform-Wayward-Publishing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B018VB6HJW/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/Men-Uniform-Wayward-Publishing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B018VB6HJW/
Book Trailer
Stories Included
Issue No. 1
ERIC GOBER
Come to a land…
Where epic battles rage…
Among monsters, superheroes, and a very sexy cop.
Love and war are funny business in Hollywood, U.S.A.
The Pinkerton Man
CJ BATY
A blackmailer forced Stiles to leave his perfect life behind.
Along the way, he found a new friend, a job as a Pinkerton Agent, and murder.
Can Stiles find the murderer before he kills again?
Mission: Protect the Ex
ALINA POPESCU
Sean never thought his military career would ever have him babysitting his ex who Sean hasn’t seen in six months.
When best friend Tom finds out his younger brother Aiden is targeted, Sean drops everything to protect the man he still loves.
Can two former lovers survive a weekend alone in the woods, or will the threat from within be more devastating than the one from outside?
A Spark in the Shadows
KASSANDRA LEA
Love beckons Officer Warden Brooks to the shadows of a desolate place.
But his lover Tate Eldridge is so much more than a criminal, he’s a beautiful mystery.
His Heart Held Hostage
ASTA IDONEA
When his father loses the battle against Hrafnaheim, Prince Darius finds himself a political prisoner.
Taken in chains to a dark and unfamiliar land, he begins to lose hope.
But then Captain Morten Gunnarsson of the Palace Guards is assigned to watch over him.
Now it is not just Darius’ body being held hostage, but also his heart.
The Emperor’s Slave
EDDY LEFEY
When the Draaduuri arrived on Earth many humans died.
Captain Timothy Kellerman’s family was among them
Now, a truce has been struck. He is the prize.
Crown Prince Yuuhaan has instantly bonded with his slave.
Can the prince keep his baser instincts in check long enough for Timothy to transform?
To become the next great hope of the Draaduuri and the human race?
Yes! Yes! Yes!
LILY VELDEN
Go to Portsmouth, said my friends. It’s quieter. You’ll be able to write without distraction.
They obviously hadn’t met my mysterious and elusive neighbour, Finn.…
After all, what would a Friday night be without hearing Moaner, Gusher, or Squeaker screaming out their joy at being shagged senseless by the obviously talented Finn?
Come to think of it, what would a Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday night be without it either?
Thank God for Mondays!
The Firefighter and the Marine
JIM DUNAWAY
Apartment building fires are always tragic, even if everyone makes it out alive. But what happens when a person can’t make it out on their own?
Brave firefighters must risk their lives in order to rescue trapped people.
Lieutenant Kenny Whitfield is one such firefighter. Brave and somewhat reckless.
Lance Corporal Steve Martinson is one such person in need.
When Kenny and Steve meet face to face in the hospital, well…
Blue Knight
CAROL PEDROSO
Franc has resigned himself to yet another year of pain and humiliation in order to complete his on ship training.
Then along comes Zyph, with his sexy blue skin and probing questions…
Will he be Franc’s Blue Knight?
The Royal Guardian
JO TANNAH
Warrior and Dragon Seek to Destroy Those Who Had Dared Harm Their Prince.
Giveaway
Prize: $10 WIP Gift Card
Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d3e3d66a59/
December 3, 2015
Release Day Blitz – Broken Prince, Mismatched Eyes by Layla Dorine
Synopsis
All of his life, Caden DeMott’s mismatched eyes have made him the target of superstition and scorn. Though he is the son of a nobleman, he’s been allowed to run free over the hills and moors, mostly ignored by his family. No one ever thought to inform him that he had been betrothed since infancy, until the day his fiancé, Prince Rhys Gwyther arrived to marry him.
Rhys is the prince of the small island country of Mauritania, a land rich in gems, rose oil, and pearls, but poor in skilled artisans and seeds to grow crops. In order to further cement the trade route to the mainland, he’s been sent to marry a man he’s never met, and bring him back to Mauritania. Unfortunately, an accident years before has left Rhys with a lot of emotional baggage and very little trust in strangers.
But trust is exactly what Caden and Rhys are going to need if they are to make a life together, and help unravel the mystery of who’s been smuggling valuable gems and pearls off the island. Add in the realization that Caden’s stepmother, Mildred and her island representative, Maxwell, have been importing inferior goods for years, forcing Mauritania to become more dependent on them, and trust becomes even more difficult.
Caden possesses the knowledge to finally allow Rhys’ father to unravel the plot to ruin Mauritania, but only if the king and his son are willing to put their faith in Caden’s loyalty to his new home. Something that is difficult to do after Caden is accused of cheating on his marriage vows to Rhys with his guard, Luc. Will Rhys believe him innocent? Or will their marriage be over before it truly has a chance to begin?
Buy Now
Don’t miss the WIP Christmas Sale! 30% off all titles from December 4 to December 24.
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/broken-prince-mismatched-eyes-by-layla-dorine/
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B017WXGBM8/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/dp/B017WXGBM8/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-brokenprincemismatchedeyes-1929493-143.html
Video Trailer
Excerpt
Jackson had watched a medley of emotions play across Caden’s face as the story unfolded, but now the young man sat with his hand still upon the head of his hound, a blank, almost expressionless look in his eyes. Jackson lingered with bated breath, waiting on Caden’s response.
Caden blinked several times and resumed scratching Brutes’ ears. “Will I ever see you again?”
Jackson tried to give his son a smile but was certain it came out a grimace. “I will do my best to come to Mauritania and visit with you each year around the time of your birth.”
Caden dropped his gaze, but not before Jackson saw the shimmer of tears forming there. He should have known Caden would not be fooled by such a flimsy lie.
“And what about them?” Caden asked, stroking Titus’ head now as well. Jackson heard the hitch in his son’s voice and the shaky exhale of breath that revealed just how flimsy a hold he had on his emotions.
“I honestly can’t answer that,” Jackson told him. “You will have to ask Prince Rhys if he will allow you to keep them. I promise you that they will have a home here for the rest of their days if he will not.”
Caden ducked his head, hiding the tears that now flowed freely. With some difficulty, Jackson swallowed down the lump in his throat and reached out to pull his son into an embrace. For several long minutes, no other words were spoken.
“I have never disobeyed you father,” Caden’s soft voice whispered in his ear. “I will marry the prince and do my best not to shame you.”
“I am proud of you, my son,” Jackson whispered back, hugging him tighter, “and I have faith in you. I know you will do your best.”
“Is he kind? Is he going to be afraid of me? Perhaps he won’t want me because of my eyes.”
“He faces the same repercussions as you do if he refuses to honor the contract. As for whether he is a kind man or not, I cannot say, for I have never met him. All I know of Prince Rhys is that he is two years older than you.”
Caden pulled out of his father’s embrace and laid his head on Titus’ back as a loud horn sounded in the distance. There was no more time for words; the prince had arrived.
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/
December 1, 2015
Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 21
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 used the following prompt: use “It’s hard when you don’t know who to trust.”
Nathan has to learn to cope with his first marital argument.
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 21
The broken clock mocked me, lying open with my tools jutting out like an ignored surgery. Without it, I couldn’t be sure how long I sat here alone, but I guessed at least an hour or two had passed since Rother stormed out, possibly longer.
At first I fumed at him for walking away when I wasn’t finished giving him my thoughts. I had every right to be unhappy learning about Rother’s history with the help. A small amount of forward notice might have forestalled my anger. Well, not likely, but a warning would have been polite.
A while after, I spent a time whipping myself for being so harsh. Hardly knowing the man, his manner could be completely normal in Francine compared to Victoria. With the severe way he reacted to Vivian’s advances when we arrived, I knew he didn’t take challenges to his authority well. Powerful men rarely did. I should have handled the situation with more grace, not with the vitriol I usually saved for dealing with my family.
Neither revelation was useful as I sat staring at the gutted clock. Less than a week, and I’d already thrown my marriage off the rails. Wonderful work, Nathan. Idiot.
The door opening broke my musing. Rother stepped in a tray of food in one hand. With a cautious step, he placed the offering next to the mangled clock. A bowl of stew. One random scent and my stomach growled.
“Samantha said you hadn’t eaten since lunch.”
“That’s very kind of her. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be gone.”
“I had work to attend to.” Every line in Rother’s body was rigid, and his eyes narrow. Tension emanated from his every motion, as if waiting for a new argument to emerge.
“Rother, I don’t want things between us to be awkward. We’re to be under the same roof for some time.”
When he didn’t react, I realized I’d spoken to him as I would another Victorian noble; working to maintain polite discourse rather than pollute the discussion with personal feelings.
I forced my lungs to empty in a rush, trying to corral my courage. Now was not the time for civil pleasantries. I needed to be less Victorian and more Francinian right now or I might never resolve this issue between us. Rother made an effort with the meal, the least I could do was let down my own guard.
“I’m sorry I ambushed you the way I did after Vivian’s comments.” My face heated as I worked up some kind of acknowledgment. I was in yet another land of unfamiliar territory. “I should have had the nerve to ask you directly. Perhaps I was a bit judgmental. Unfairly, even.”
“Perhaps.”
It wasn’t a proper apology, but I hadn’t expected much more. At least I knew he was listening. Now that I had his attention, I had my own point to make in my defense as well.
“And perhaps you’re expecting a great deal of sudden change I’m not prepared for. There’s a great deal of difference between Victorian and Francine customs. But I’m trying to adapt as best I know how. It’s just not as easy as winding a clockwork mouse and sending it scurrying along on its way.”
Rother didn’t speak, but his posture softened. The sharp line of his mouth relaxed; not actually a smile, but I suppose it counted as a meager sign of detente. Clearly, I needed to accept this small victory. My alpha male wouldn’t give in and show his belly anytime soon. It would be a waste of time wishing for it.
The mood lighter, Rother opened the wardrobe and pulled out a jacket and other accessories. I stepped closer as he buttoned his shirt up higher, shy of his throat yet more formal than how he walked out earlier. In short order, he tidied himself up with a stylish jacket and hat, accentuating the smart flair I was learning to appreciate.
“Are we going out tonight?”
Rother shook his head as his buttoned his cuffs. “No. It’s been decided Delaga House will be returning to business tonight.”
“Tonight?” My obvious confusion broke free. What kind of business dealings would be held in the evening?
“Yes, tonight.”
Trying to shrug off the odd working hours, I decided to help rather than hinder. “All right. Is there something in particular I should be wearing?”
“You’re not participating.” Without any vocal fluctuation, he adjusted his collar in the mirror.
“Why not?” I was more confused than ever. Hadn’t we made a breakthrough moments ago?
“You’re not acclimated well enough to the Francine culture. That ‘sudden change’ you were referring to before. Until you are, you’ll stay up here during active hours.”
Tamping down my annoyance was difficult. I spent years as a prisoner to my father’s machinations and now my husband wanted me to continue playing a similar role?
I steeled myself to stay calm and collected. “As your husband, I’d like to become part of it.”
“It’s hard when you don’t know who to trust.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I couldn’t help but take offense. Did he mean I couldn’t be trusted? Or rather the others in his dealings?
“Another night, perhaps. You can keep yourself busy playing with the clock.” Rother’s voice wasn’t cruel or rude. It was simplistic; how one would speak to a child. The fatherly condescension made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
My voice pitched in shock. “Excuse me?”
Rother pulled his watch from his pocket. “I don’t have time for this right now. I’m running late. You’ll be asleep long before I’m back, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
Disaffected, he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. Stunned, I watched my husband stroll out the door and close it behind him. He didn’t really expect me to sit up here all night, did he? A soft, mechanical snick answered the question.
I’d been locked in the suite.
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
Christmas Sale on all Wayward Ink Titles!
Get discounts at the following sites! Take advantage of the savings and get new ebooks as little as $3.99 or less depending on the title.
Amazon Dates: 20 Dec through 27 Dec
ARe Dates: 20 Dec through 27 Dec
Wayward Ink Publishing Website: 4 Dec through 24 Dec 30% off all titles including Coming Soon
Get your copy of A Cook’s Tale and The Luxorian Fugitive now!
November 29, 2015
A Cook’s Tale blog tour! Giveaway! Excerpt!
Can you believe it? A Cook’s Tale, Book Two of my series, Ship Logs of the Santa Claus has released! I never thought I’d see all of this happen. Seriously. But here we are!
The blog tour starts this weekend and runs through Dec. 13th. There are excerpts, unique guest posts, and a giveaway for Book One – The Luxorian Fugitive to get us off and running!
Enjoy! And thank you all!
A COOK’S TALE
Book Two: Ship Logs of the Santa Claus
by Mann Ramblings
M/M Sci-fi Romance by Wayward Ink Publishing
Giveaway for Book One – The Luxorian Fugitive after the excerpt!
Buy Links:
Wayward Ink Publishing: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/a-cooks-tale-by-mann-ramblings/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-acook039stale-1925761-153.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Blurb:
The trials and tribulations of the crew and passengers of interplanetary transport vessel, The Santa Claus continues in A Cook’s Tale.
After a horrific breakup, Erron Murfin is bitter, homeless, and friendless. When the cook’s position on the Santa Claus presents itself, Erron decides to escape his current circumstances and join the crew. On board he reconnects with family friend Gamin Wells, whose own secrets and issues begin to surface upon Erron’s arrival. The least of which is the reason the pair haven’t laid eyes on one another in over twelve years.
As Erron settles into his new duties, the men on board take an interest in their newest crew member. Among those intrigued by Erron are polyamorous couple, Barrus and James. Despite Erron’s cautious nature, he’s drawn into a triad relationship with the pair.
But there’s something about Gamin…
Is Erron too damaged to confront his own feelings?
Will his past prevent him from finding what he needs?
Excerpt:
Beta Deck was situated like a large dormitory. All the rooms ran in a loop with a central facility containing a gymnasium, lockers, lavatories, and shower room. On a non-hetero vessel, the layout was dubious to say the least.
Since the majority of the crew was off-ship, Erron felt bold enough to enter the locker room. In his quarters, he’d stalled for a bit, deciding how to proceed. What was considered normal on the Santa Claus? Did the men walk around half-dressed? Less than half? There were a lot of factors in fitting into an established community. Towel over his shoulder, he stepped through the doorway into the locker room. The gymnasium could be seen down one end and the shower room was visible down the other. He wondered what it would be like with a dozen men all stripping down and showering together in one room together. The likelihood for something tawdry to happen seemed high.
Gamin’s clothes lay over the bench and the sound of water running told Erron the chef beat him here. Not surprising really, Gamin had been on the ship for years, this was his home, and Erron hoped he’d soon feel the same.
Stripping off, Erron dropped his garments in the same fashion as Gamin. Peeling off his briefs, he felt a sudden surge of awkwardness. He was about to get in the shower with Gamin. The nervous giggle tried to rip out of his mouth, so he choked it down. He was being childish.
“Took you long enough.” Gamin said. The chef hadn’t looked in Erron’s direction as he held his head under the spray.
“I had to find my towel.”
Erron hung his towel on the hook near the doorway, and selected a shower with a buffer of one nozzle between them. The control panel beeped as Erron touched it, but nothing happened. Over and over, he touched the pad only to be mocked by the same tone.
“It’s voice activated,” Gamin said, barely looking over his shoulder. “Just tell it the temperature you want.” Erron’s face heated up; he couldn’t bring himself to admit he couldn’t muster the nerve to use the shower last night after they turned in. The ship was too quiet, and too new.
Ducking his head slightly, Erron leaned forward and spoke to the black panel. “Forty- two degrees Celsius.” A torrent of heated water rushed over Erron, the delicious heat the first step in washing away what felt like months of grime and sad reminders of his derailed life. The cheap inns he’d been forced to rent after being evicted had lousy facilities. This… this was a small piece of chocolate decadence.
“Like your showers pretty hot?” Gamin continued to face the wall as he soaked himself.
Erron angled his hips, keeping his privates out of view. “I’d forgotten how nice it feels.”
For the first time he could remember, Erron felt self-conscious. The fitness membership expired shortly after the breakup, but Erron hadn’t lost too much tone. He’d never be large and imposing, his frame didn’t allow it. A lean body and smooth skin could still turn heads. The treatment responsible for his hair growing in green made all the rest on his body the same color. Jade colored hair on his arms and legs was too odd and a green pubic zone made him feel like a perverted clown, so it had to go. There was nothing wrong with him, but why he felt the need to hide himself, he couldn’t say. He certainly never acted this shy in front of the troops during the war. It was more than a bit hypocritical when he peered over his shoulder at his showering partner.
Tall and thick, with coarse hair on his arms and legs, Gamin’s size and sturdiness were a stark contrast to Erron’s smaller stature. Wisps of fur reached around the sides of the chef’s rounded belly that matched the meaty globes of his behind. Everything about Gamin was solid and manly. The peppering of gray on his head and beard fit him as well.
It was true, he probably shouldn’t be looking, but Erron had never seen Gamin this way in all these years. Not even shirtless at the park when he was growing up. From what he could see, the view wasn’t half bad; Gamin had nothing to be ashamed of. What he did notice was how deliberate Gamin was being at not looking at him.
“You’re a lot bigger than I remembered.” Erron couldn’t help watching Gamin soap his body while continuing to face the wall. It had been a long time since he’d had any opportunity to be with a man. While it wasn’t his plan to be with Gamin, as long as he didn’t turn around, Erron could enjoy the show. He prayed Gamin wouldn’t turn around. That would be mortifying.
“Yeah well, I’ve had time to eat a few good meals.”
“It looks good on you.”
Gamin chuckled as lines of lazy suds followed the contours of his back and between the crevice of his haunches. “Thanks. You’ve changed a lot over the years too.”
“I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No. No, you’re not,” Gamin said, drenching his head under the spray.
Giveaway for Book One – The Luxorian Fugitive
About the Author:
Like many gay men, when MANN RAMBLINGS grew up, there weren’t any heroes he could relate to. The world held him back while he tried futilely to hide the real person inside. So much has changed since those hollow days. He finally found his voice, the voice that says it’s all right to revel in the so-called inappropriate joys, laughs, and loves that storm inside a man’s head. It took a long time to find that courage and now that it’s here, he plans to use it well.
While spending years more focused on visual arts, he never let go of his innate passion for storytelling—he wanted to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened with new possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like, Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled within him the need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge from Night Tempest, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. That experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing.
Born and raised in Michigan, Mann Ramblings continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use a noisy, old fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if only to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.
MANN RAMBLINGS can be found at:
Blog: https://mannramblingsblog.wordpress.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mannramblings
Twitter: @mannramblings
November 27, 2015
Wayward Ink is having a Black Friday sale!
BLACK FRIDAY SALE
40% OFF EVERYTHING!
INCLUDING COMING SOON TITLES.
SALE ENDS 28 NOVEMBER, 2015
Prices shown are list prices
Discount will be taken off at Checkout
No limit on the number of purchases
http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/black-friday-sale/
You can get both of my books, A Cook’s Tale or The Luxorian Fugitive on a great discount! Or pick any number of the wonderful Wayward Ink ebooks! You won’t regret it!
November 26, 2015
A Cook’s Tale is here! Excerpt! Giveaway! Blog Tour!
Can you believe it? A Cook’s Tale, Book Two of my series, Ship Logs of the Santa Claus has released! I never thought I’d see all of this happen. Seriously. But here we are!
The blog tour starts this weekend and runs through Dec. 13th. There are excerpts, unique guest posts, and a giveaway for Book One – The Luxorian Fugitive to get us off and running!
Enjoy! And thank you all!
A COOK’S TALE
Book Two: Ship Logs of the Santa Claus
by Mann Ramblings
M/M Sci-fi Romance by Wayward Ink Publishing
Giveaway for Book One – The Luxorian Fugitive below!
Buy Links:
WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/a-cooks-tale-by-mann-ramblings/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-acook039stale-1925761-153.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/Cooks-Tale-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B017I26RXG/
Blurb:
The trials and tribulations of the crew and passengers of interplanetary transport vessel, The Santa Claus continues in A Cook’s Tale.
After a horrific breakup, Erron Murfin is bitter, homeless, and friendless. When the cook’s position on the Santa Claus presents itself, Erron decides to escape his current circumstances and join the crew. On board he reconnects with family friend Gamin Wells, whose own secrets and issues begin to surface upon Erron’s arrival. The least of which is the reason the pair haven’t laid eyes on one another in over twelve years.
As Erron settles into his new duties, the men on board take an interest in their newest crew member. Among those intrigued by Erron are polyamorous couple, Barrus and James. Despite Erron’s cautious nature, he’s drawn into a triad relationship with the pair.
But there’s something about Gamin…
Is Erron too damaged to confront his own feelings?
Will his past prevent him from finding what he needs?
Excerpt:
Beta Deck was situated like a large dormitory. All the rooms ran in a loop with a central facility containing a gymnasium, lockers, lavatories, and shower room. On a non-hetero vessel, the layout was dubious to say the least.
Since the majority of the crew was off-ship, Erron felt bold enough to enter the locker room. In his quarters, he’d stalled for a bit, deciding how to proceed. What was considered normal on the Santa Claus? Did the men walk around half-dressed? Less than half? There were a lot of factors in fitting into an established community. Towel over his shoulder, he stepped through the doorway into the locker room. The gymnasium could be seen down one end and the shower room was visible down the other. He wondered what it would be like with a dozen men all stripping down and showering together in one room together. The likelihood for something tawdry to happen seemed high.
Gamin’s clothes lay over the bench and the sound of water running told Erron the chef beat him here. Not surprising really, Gamin had been on the ship for years, this was his home, and Erron hoped he’d soon feel the same.
Stripping off, Erron dropped his garments in the same fashion as Gamin. Peeling off his briefs, he felt a sudden surge of awkwardness. He was about to get in the shower with Gamin. The nervous giggle tried to rip out of his mouth, so he choked it down. He was being childish.
“Took you long enough.” Gamin said. The chef hadn’t looked in Erron’s direction as he held his head under the spray.
“I had to find my towel.”
Erron hung his towel on the hook near the doorway, and selected a shower with a buffer of one nozzle between them. The control panel beeped as Erron touched it, but nothing happened. Over and over, he touched the pad only to be mocked by the same tone.
“It’s voice activated,” Gamin said, barely looking over his shoulder. “Just tell it the temperature you want.” Erron’s face heated up; he couldn’t bring himself to admit he couldn’t muster the nerve to use the shower last night after they turned in. The ship was too quiet, and too new.
Ducking his head slightly, Erron leaned forward and spoke to the black panel. “Forty- two degrees Celsius.” A torrent of heated water rushed over Erron, the delicious heat the first step in washing away what felt like months of grime and sad reminders of his derailed life. The cheap inns he’d been forced to rent after being evicted had lousy facilities. This… this was a small piece of chocolate decadence.
“Like your showers pretty hot?” Gamin continued to face the wall as he soaked himself.
Erron angled his hips, keeping his privates out of view. “I’d forgotten how nice it feels.”
For the first time he could remember, Erron felt self-conscious. The fitness membership expired shortly after the breakup, but Erron hadn’t lost too much tone. He’d never be large and imposing, his frame didn’t allow it. A lean body and smooth skin could still turn heads. The treatment responsible for his hair growing in green made all the rest on his body the same color. Jade colored hair on his arms and legs was too odd and a green pubic zone made him feel like a perverted clown, so it had to go. There was nothing wrong with him, but why he felt the need to hide himself, he couldn’t say. He certainly never acted this shy in front of the troops during the war. It was more than a bit hypocritical when he peered over his shoulder at his showering partner.
Tall and thick, with coarse hair on his arms and legs, Gamin’s size and sturdiness were a stark contrast to Erron’s smaller stature. Wisps of fur reached around the sides of the chef’s rounded belly that matched the meaty globes of his behind. Everything about Gamin was solid and manly. The peppering of gray on his head and beard fit him as well.
It was true, he probably shouldn’t be looking, but Erron had never seen Gamin this way in all these years. Not even shirtless at the park when he was growing up. From what he could see, the view wasn’t half bad; Gamin had nothing to be ashamed of. What he did notice was how deliberate Gamin was being at not looking at him.
“You’re a lot bigger than I remembered.” Erron couldn’t help watching Gamin soap his body while continuing to face the wall. It had been a long time since he’d had any opportunity to be with a man. While it wasn’t his plan to be with Gamin, as long as he didn’t turn around, Erron could enjoy the show. He prayed Gamin wouldn’t turn around. That would be mortifying.
“Yeah well, I’ve had time to eat a few good meals.”
“It looks good on you.”
Gamin chuckled as lines of lazy suds followed the contours of his back and between the crevice of his haunches. “Thanks. You’ve changed a lot over the years too.”
“I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No. No, you’re not,” Gamin said, drenching his head under the spray.
Giveaway:
About the Author:
Like many gay men, when MANN RAMBLINGS grew up, there weren’t any heroes he could relate to. The world held him back while he tried futilely to hide the real person inside. So much has changed since those hollow days. He finally found his voice, the voice that says it’s all right to revel in the so-called inappropriate joys, laughs, and loves that storm inside a man’s head. It took a long time to find that courage and now that it’s here, he plans to use it well.
While spending years more focused on visual arts, he never let go of his innate passion for storytelling—he wanted to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened with new possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like, Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled within him the need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge from Night Tempest, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. That experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing.
Born and raised in Michigan, Mann Ramblings continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use a noisy, old fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if only to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.
MANN RAMBLINGS can be found at:
Blog: https://mannramblingsblog.wordpress.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mannramblings
Twitter: @mannramblings
