Lisa Worrall's Blog, page 36
February 7, 2012
THE MASQUERADE TRILOGY
Authors Sue Brown, Lisa Worrall and Patricia Logan are pleased to come together in a trio of tales that will tease and tantilize their readers. Get ready for The Masquerade Trilogy....
**~~** The Layered Mask by Sue Brown Book 1 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Available February 4th, 2012 Gay (M/M), Historical, Regency, Holiday, Valentine's Day Buy HERE
Lord Edwin Nash has been sent to London by his father, threatened with disinheritance unless he finds a wife. Lord Thomas Downe sees through the mask Edwin presents to the world and leaves Edwin powerless to deny his love.Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London for one season to find a wife. While there, Nash discovers he is the lamb, the sacrifice of the society matrons, to be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Thomas calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash had hidden for years and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.What will happen when the time comes for Edwin to return home with a suitable bride?
PG13 Excerpt: The sense of foreboding that had settled over Downe like a heavy cloak as his peaceful world became disrupted lightened as he rode away from the house. It was cold, to be sure, but the deep freeze of the winter had lessened its grip on London.It was still early enough that most of the ton had not shifted from their beds, and Rotten Row was empty aside from a few dedicated riders, giving him time to appreciate the peace and quiet before the almost constant clamour that pervaded London's streets took hold.Gideon's hooves scattered the sand as he trotted down the avenue. Downe felt his bad mood dissipating under the feel of the fine horseflesh beneath him. Taking some deep breaths, he coaxed Gideon into a canter, only to curse under his breath as he had to slow down almost immediately to avoid a horse careening erratically across his path. Perched atop was a lady who appeared to have fainted. Downe could see her slumped across the neck of her horse. He slowed Gideon to let them go past and then turned his horse so that he could ride alongside the woman, trying not to spook the horse. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another rider approaching from the other side. Between them they managed to calm the horse long enough for Downe to reach over and get the reins.As the three horses drew to a halt, the woman slumped even further over to one side, and Downe had to prevent her from falling off the horse."Sissy... Serena. Are you all right?"Downe looked up to see the other rider leap from his horse and approach the woman, helping him to lift her back more firmly onto the horse. To Downe's relief, the lady coughed and opened her eyes, sitting up more solidly. She stared at Downe in confusion. Her eyes were very blue, although somewhat fogged at the moment."What happened?" she asked, raising a trembling hand to her mouth."You lost control of your horse," Downe said sternly. "It was fortunate that this gentleman and I were close at hand to assist you.""You never lose control like that, Sissy." The young man's voice was cultured but had a distinct country accent that Downe found hard to place.Downe looked over the drooping woman to see the man staring worriedly up at her. He raised his head to look at Downe who noticed that, under his dark, curly hair, his eyes were also blue, but a darker shade, like a tempestuous sea, with dark eyebrows, pressed together in a worried frown. He was also very young; at Downe's guess, some years younger than the woman between them."This lady is your sister?" he asked the man somewhat curtly. At the other man's nod, he said "I shall leave you in his care then, madam. I suggest you ride on a tamer horse until you are used to London streets."A deep frown furrowed the younger man's brow. "Sissy... Serena... is used to London streets and normally she is an excellent horsewoman."Serena had straightened up by this time. "Hush, Edwin." That tone was definitely that of an older sibling. Downe had been on the receiving end many a time. "Please accept my apologies, sir. As my brother says, I am used to riding in London. I have no idea what happened today. Thank you for your assistance, sir. I think maybe I should go home now, Edwin."Downe had a feeling he'd been dismissed. "My pleasure, madam," he said, and bowed his head, backing his horse away to allow Edwin to guide her horse, although he didn't stop watching as the couple rode away. Telling himself it was just in case the lady needed his assistance again, Downe couldn't help straying to the fine seat of the young man. In spite of his youth, it had been a while since Downe had seen a man as striking as... Downe cursed under his breath as he realised he had failed to discover the young man's name. And he really wanted to find out who he was. Those disconcerting dark blue eyes had burned themselves into Downe's brain. **** The Slave's Mask by Patricia Logan Book 2 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing BDSM, Gay (M/M), Historical, Holiday, Valentine's Day Buy HERE American blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running guns and other contraband between England and the Confederate States in 1863. He craves a young submissive man. Francois, a young prostitute, might be just the man to satisfy all of Anthony's taboo desires.Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?Adult Excerpt: Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home."Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies."Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse."How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked."Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue."Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door."Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued."Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test."Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches."Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said. **** Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him. **~~** Check out more about these authors work at the following places.... Sue Brown's Blog Lisa Worrall's Blog
Patricia Logan's Blog
**~~** The Layered Mask by Sue Brown Book 1 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Available February 4th, 2012 Gay (M/M), Historical, Regency, Holiday, Valentine's Day Buy HERE Lord Edwin Nash has been sent to London by his father, threatened with disinheritance unless he finds a wife. Lord Thomas Downe sees through the mask Edwin presents to the world and leaves Edwin powerless to deny his love.Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London for one season to find a wife. While there, Nash discovers he is the lamb, the sacrifice of the society matrons, to be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Thomas calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash had hidden for years and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.What will happen when the time comes for Edwin to return home with a suitable bride?
PG13 Excerpt: The sense of foreboding that had settled over Downe like a heavy cloak as his peaceful world became disrupted lightened as he rode away from the house. It was cold, to be sure, but the deep freeze of the winter had lessened its grip on London.It was still early enough that most of the ton had not shifted from their beds, and Rotten Row was empty aside from a few dedicated riders, giving him time to appreciate the peace and quiet before the almost constant clamour that pervaded London's streets took hold.Gideon's hooves scattered the sand as he trotted down the avenue. Downe felt his bad mood dissipating under the feel of the fine horseflesh beneath him. Taking some deep breaths, he coaxed Gideon into a canter, only to curse under his breath as he had to slow down almost immediately to avoid a horse careening erratically across his path. Perched atop was a lady who appeared to have fainted. Downe could see her slumped across the neck of her horse. He slowed Gideon to let them go past and then turned his horse so that he could ride alongside the woman, trying not to spook the horse. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another rider approaching from the other side. Between them they managed to calm the horse long enough for Downe to reach over and get the reins.As the three horses drew to a halt, the woman slumped even further over to one side, and Downe had to prevent her from falling off the horse."Sissy... Serena. Are you all right?"Downe looked up to see the other rider leap from his horse and approach the woman, helping him to lift her back more firmly onto the horse. To Downe's relief, the lady coughed and opened her eyes, sitting up more solidly. She stared at Downe in confusion. Her eyes were very blue, although somewhat fogged at the moment."What happened?" she asked, raising a trembling hand to her mouth."You lost control of your horse," Downe said sternly. "It was fortunate that this gentleman and I were close at hand to assist you.""You never lose control like that, Sissy." The young man's voice was cultured but had a distinct country accent that Downe found hard to place.Downe looked over the drooping woman to see the man staring worriedly up at her. He raised his head to look at Downe who noticed that, under his dark, curly hair, his eyes were also blue, but a darker shade, like a tempestuous sea, with dark eyebrows, pressed together in a worried frown. He was also very young; at Downe's guess, some years younger than the woman between them."This lady is your sister?" he asked the man somewhat curtly. At the other man's nod, he said "I shall leave you in his care then, madam. I suggest you ride on a tamer horse until you are used to London streets."A deep frown furrowed the younger man's brow. "Sissy... Serena... is used to London streets and normally she is an excellent horsewoman."Serena had straightened up by this time. "Hush, Edwin." That tone was definitely that of an older sibling. Downe had been on the receiving end many a time. "Please accept my apologies, sir. As my brother says, I am used to riding in London. I have no idea what happened today. Thank you for your assistance, sir. I think maybe I should go home now, Edwin."Downe had a feeling he'd been dismissed. "My pleasure, madam," he said, and bowed his head, backing his horse away to allow Edwin to guide her horse, although he didn't stop watching as the couple rode away. Telling himself it was just in case the lady needed his assistance again, Downe couldn't help straying to the fine seat of the young man. In spite of his youth, it had been a while since Downe had seen a man as striking as... Downe cursed under his breath as he realised he had failed to discover the young man's name. And he really wanted to find out who he was. Those disconcerting dark blue eyes had burned themselves into Downe's brain. **** The Slave's Mask by Patricia Logan Book 2 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing BDSM, Gay (M/M), Historical, Holiday, Valentine's Day Buy HERE American blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running guns and other contraband between England and the Confederate States in 1863. He craves a young submissive man. Francois, a young prostitute, might be just the man to satisfy all of Anthony's taboo desires.Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?Adult Excerpt: Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home."Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies."Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse."How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked."Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue."Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door."Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued."Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test."Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches."Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said. **** Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him. **~~** Check out more about these authors work at the following places.... Sue Brown's Blog Lisa Worrall's Blog
Patricia Logan's Blog
February 5, 2012
SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY
Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday where you are treated to six sentences from uber-talented writers to whet your appetite.
This week's six are from ALWAYS HOPE. In this scene... Ash has landed in Mobile Alabama and has an unexpected chauffeur waiting for him...
"I'm Ashdon Watts—someone's waiting for me?""I am."Ash turned on his heel at the rich, deep voice behind him and found himself looking into the piercing blue eyes of… well… an honest to God cowboy. The Marlboro Man, skittered across the surface of his tired brain, as did the vague awareness he was staring, slack-jawed at the handsome, rugged man in front of him. Ash's gaze couldn't help but wander over the clean swell of the man's biceps where his arms were crossed over his chest, or the bunch of muscular thighs beneath the soft denim of his jeans. The man lifted a work-roughened hand and removed his hat and Ash hoped the involuntary gasp came from the woman at the desk and not from him when a curtain of sweat-dampened, chestnut hair tumbled onto broad shoulders.
Make sure you click on the link and check out all the other Sixes for this week.
February 4, 2012
RELEASE DAY!! THE MASQUERADE TRILOGY AVAILABLE NOW!!
The Masquerade Trilogy is here with stories from Sue Brown, Lisa Worrall and Patricia Logan. Get your masks and dancing shoes on....the masquerade is about to begin...
Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.
Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.
Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.
Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.
Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him.
**~~** Other stories in The Masquerade Trilogy are...
Check out more about this author's work at the following places.... Lisa Worrall's Blog
Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.
Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.
Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.
Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him.
**~~** Other stories in The Masquerade Trilogy are...
Check out more about this author's work at the following places.... Lisa Worrall's Blog
February 3, 2012
GUEST STAR: PATRICIA LOGAN!
Joining me today is Patricia Logan from across the pond. It's two days until the release of The Masquerade Trilogy and Patti is responsible for the second book, Masquerade: The Slave's Mask.
This story of a blackguard and his beautiful slave, will have you enthralled from word one... take it away Batty Patti!
Hey Lisa,
How's my little British Bombshell? Not so much of the little!
I stopped in today to bloviate about my new book "The Slave's Mask" which is book two of "The Masquerade Trilogy". Okay, I won't bloviate. I'll just tell you a little about it. It takes place in 1863 during the American Civil War, though most of the story takes place in London. I like BDSM and if you have read any of my books, there is a little sprinkling of bondage through most of them. "The Slave's Mask" has more than most. I would classify it as a historical BDSM book. In "Slave", one of my characters is a man who has the need to dominate other men during sex and in the time period that this book takes place, not only is homosexual a term that is taboo but BDSM would be thought of as deviant or perverse, most certainly.
I've read many books with elements from mild to extreme in their use of BDSM and I will admit to you, dear readers, more than one made me extremely uncomfortable. A wide variety of people enjoy the odd use of handcuffs or being tied to the bed and "forced" to submit as long as the players are consenting adults and the parties agree. There are many more extreme forms that have me wiggling on the chair, and not in a good way. "Slave" is not extreme in its use of domination and submission but it is a clear theme and most of my character's bed play, involves BDSM in one form or another.
The theme throughout this story is the clear need of one character to dominate and the need of one character to submit to his "Master". With both of these men, it is a "need" that they explore together and the balance that they find which is a perfect blend for these two men. I enjoy the journey of two men finding their way to love in a relationship, especially when one craves something but doesn't really understand that this is a clear "need". In this case, my submissive, "Slave" doesn't even realize the need to be dominated and he must be led. It isn't so much the arrival at the end, but the journey to get there and I just enjoy as an author, taking you there. I hope that I've done a good job for you and that you enjoy "The Slave's Mask".
BUY HEREBLURB:Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.
Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?
EXCERPT: The Tempest made its way through the oily waters of the Thames, preparing to drop anchor in the busy harbor. At her wheel stood the formidable figure of Captain Anthony Charles. He barked out orders to his less than presentable crew made up of cutthroats and pirates, men that fit the captain's specific needs perfectly. Anthony felt the excitement of the crew as they scrambled to finish his orders so that they could have their shore leave. The long trip from America had exhausted them all and the captain knew they were anxious to blow off steam, find themselves a whore, and drink themselves sick.
Anthony's taste in whores was quite different from his men and in the year 1863, they were quite taboo, not only here in England but in America as well. He was fortunate to know a purveyor or two of the boys he liked to use and he made certain to bring some of the finest rums from the Bahamas, Cuba, and Bermuda for his connections. He paid them handsomely and was rewarded with the highest quality in submissive young men. His cock hardened as he thought of the coming weeks, tasting the youth that he craved while loading his strong box with more gold and silver than he could carry.
Anthony was called a gentleman here in England and a Blockade Runner and blackguard by the Union troops. Trading arms and other luxuries with the Confederacy and in turn, highly priced cotton and tobacco with the English, had made Anthony Charles a very wealthy man in the two years since the beginning of the War Between the States. Though the Union had more than five hundred ships patrolling the waters around the southern states, waiting to catch just such a ship as the Tempest, Anthony had been able to avoid capture to date. Weighted down with cargo, it would have been difficult to outrun the Union fleet had he been spotted, and once within blockaded waters, he traveled by night with blackened sails, like his pirate ancestors. He knew that the Union was making progress and that the Confederacy could only hold out for so long under such an onslaught. As such, he always insisted on taking his payment in gold, knowing that the Confederate notes would someday soon be worthless.
Easing his ship into its prearranged berth, he called out to the crew to drop anchor. The sound of the anchor hitting the filthy water was like music to his ears. Within a few hours, his men would be whoring and Anthony would be visiting a very discreet brothel not far from theTempest. Anthony Charles was a handsome man and he knew it. His coal black hair and light blue eyes were his very best features. He stood several inches above six feet and his shoulders were broad. The years of work on board various ships had shaped his body into a rock hard, solid mass of muscle. At thirty years of age, he enticed every woman that locked eyes with him. Alas, womanly company was not on the menu with Anthony Charles. He danced with them and dined with them to keep up appearances and was known as a rogue. But sleep with them, never. When they fluttered their pretty lashes at him and coyly smiled an invitation, he explained that he was engaged to be married and they sighed their disappointment, hating the one who'd captured his heart.
"Mr Baker," Anthony called out. The smaller man swung his head around at the sound and hurried to his captain's side. Anthony nearly smiled as his bosun jumped to obey his orders.
"Aye, Captain? Is there something you need, sir?" Anthony was pleased that his crew showed him instant respect. His dominant personality would have it no other way. He demanded a lot of his crew and they respected him for it. Of course, he also paid well for their loyalty.
"Set the watch, Mr Baker. Tell the men on the watch that they will be more than handsomely rewarded for their service. Ask for volunteers first but if need be, mete out their assignments."
"Aye, Captain," Mr Baker replied. "Was there anything else, sir?" Mr Baker waited patiently to hear his captain's orders.
"I will be staying onshore this evening. I trust that you will enjoy yourself as well." He landed a large palm on the bosun's shoulder as the man's face flushed with color.
"Aye, Captain," he muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "Have a good time, Captain." Anthony managed a smile for his second in command as he prepared to return to his cabin.
"I intend to, Mr Baker." At the thought of it, Anthony's cock throbbed within the confines of his tightly cut britches. He hurried to turn his back on Mr Baker, so as not to show his excitement. Anthony was not a small man and he knew as his cock swelled, he would become obvious within moments. He brushed past more than one excited sailor on his way back to his large and well-appointed cabin. By the time he got to the large oak portal, he was nearly bursting from his arousal. The thought of having a young thing at his feet, blindfolded and wrists bound while Anthony fucked his willing mouth, had him ready to come.
Anthony pushed open the door to his cabin and entered, quickly locking it from the inside. He proceeded to stand before his bed as he unfastened his britches. His impressive long, thick cock sprang from its confines and Anthony took it in hand, giving it only a few rough strokes before he felt his orgasm rise. Raising his other hand and grasping the bulkhead, he pictured a young submissive whimper as his head was held in place with two fists in his hair, while his mouth was violated over and over by Anthony's straining member. Anthony stroked his cock harder, faster, picturing the way the submissive raised his face just a little, letting the large head of Anthony's cock bump the back of his throat over and over again. The imagined stimulation was too much and Anthony fairly sped his palm in frenzied motions.
He felt a river of pre-come as it left his slit, and gritting his teeth, he glanced down. The sight of his purple head and the fantasy of it in the young man's mouth were too much for Anthony. He grunted and came, feeling the roiling heat leave his balls and travel the length of his cock all the way up. Anthony forced himself to keep his eyes open and on the sight of his climax and nearly lost his mind as a fountain of come spewed forth, arcing in the air and then landing on the floor at his feet. He grunted again and felt his knees nearly buckle as come pulsed out of him, sending shivers of delight through his body. Anthony shuddered as the climax sent a second, then third, spray of semen pouring out of his body. He realized he'd gone way too long without. Anthony fastened his britches and grabbed his heavy purse, leaving his cabin soon after as he made for the discreet house several blocks from the docks.
Anthony had clients to look up, once he'd found his pleasure for the night, but he was solely focused on one thing this evening. His cock thickened once again as he thought of it. Within fifteen minutes, Anthony stepped inside the dark rooms of Pleasure House. Greeted by Marcello, a bald giant of a man, he was welcomed within.
"'Tis good to see you, Milord Captain," Marcello said formally, bowing only slightly at the waist. Madame Gizelle had chosen well when she'd picked Marcello to guard her door. He sorted the riff raff from the paying clientele and kept out those less deeply pocketed. All guests had to be referred to Pleasure House by a current client. That way, Madame was able to assure a modicum of safety for her employees. Still, they had the occasional drop in of less than savory characters who'd heard rumors of the special services that Madame offered. Those were turned away by Marcello, sometimes by force, if the poor sod was overly insistent. A hulking bear of a man, not many men were a match for Marcello.
"Good evening Marcello. It's nice to see you," Anthony swept his top hat from his head and glanced around the quiet room. It was just after dark and the common rooms were empty but for a buffet laid upon the sideboard for tonight's guests and a healthy amount of candles, which were reflected in the many mirrors around the room. Crystal decanters and the finest in Anthony's liquors were laid out at the lavishly carved mahogany bar opposite the sidebar. Marcello stepped behind the bar, and offered Anthony a libation.
"What will you have this evening, Milord Captain? Madame has a fine selection, from around the world I hear." Marcello was obviously trying not to smile, though his wide lips twitched. Anthony was certain that Marcello knew from where Madame Gizelle's wine cellars were stocked. Anthony regularly had shipments sent over, for a fair price of course, but the superb quality of the imports, were without question.
"Brandy, Marcello. My thanks." Marcello nodded and picked up a cut crystal decanter. The golden liquid within sparkled in the candlelight.
"Did I hear the door, Marcello? Ah, Anthony," Madame Gizelle purred as she entered the Salon where she saw the American, standing at the bar. Anthony immediately put down his drink and approached the woman. He bowed and took her proffered hand, kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Ah Gizelle, if it's possible you look even more lovely and youthful than the last time we met," he said in reply. She chuckled.
"Anthony darling," she said as she turned, obviously showing off her shapely behind to the ship captain. "You ever make a girl swoon."
Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home.
"Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies.
"Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse.
"How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked.
"Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue.
"Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."
Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door.
"Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued.
"Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test.
"Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches.
"Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said.
This story of a blackguard and his beautiful slave, will have you enthralled from word one... take it away Batty Patti!
Hey Lisa,
How's my little British Bombshell? Not so much of the little!
I stopped in today to bloviate about my new book "The Slave's Mask" which is book two of "The Masquerade Trilogy". Okay, I won't bloviate. I'll just tell you a little about it. It takes place in 1863 during the American Civil War, though most of the story takes place in London. I like BDSM and if you have read any of my books, there is a little sprinkling of bondage through most of them. "The Slave's Mask" has more than most. I would classify it as a historical BDSM book. In "Slave", one of my characters is a man who has the need to dominate other men during sex and in the time period that this book takes place, not only is homosexual a term that is taboo but BDSM would be thought of as deviant or perverse, most certainly.
I've read many books with elements from mild to extreme in their use of BDSM and I will admit to you, dear readers, more than one made me extremely uncomfortable. A wide variety of people enjoy the odd use of handcuffs or being tied to the bed and "forced" to submit as long as the players are consenting adults and the parties agree. There are many more extreme forms that have me wiggling on the chair, and not in a good way. "Slave" is not extreme in its use of domination and submission but it is a clear theme and most of my character's bed play, involves BDSM in one form or another.
The theme throughout this story is the clear need of one character to dominate and the need of one character to submit to his "Master". With both of these men, it is a "need" that they explore together and the balance that they find which is a perfect blend for these two men. I enjoy the journey of two men finding their way to love in a relationship, especially when one craves something but doesn't really understand that this is a clear "need". In this case, my submissive, "Slave" doesn't even realize the need to be dominated and he must be led. It isn't so much the arrival at the end, but the journey to get there and I just enjoy as an author, taking you there. I hope that I've done a good job for you and that you enjoy "The Slave's Mask".
BUY HEREBLURB:Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?
EXCERPT: The Tempest made its way through the oily waters of the Thames, preparing to drop anchor in the busy harbor. At her wheel stood the formidable figure of Captain Anthony Charles. He barked out orders to his less than presentable crew made up of cutthroats and pirates, men that fit the captain's specific needs perfectly. Anthony felt the excitement of the crew as they scrambled to finish his orders so that they could have their shore leave. The long trip from America had exhausted them all and the captain knew they were anxious to blow off steam, find themselves a whore, and drink themselves sick.
Anthony's taste in whores was quite different from his men and in the year 1863, they were quite taboo, not only here in England but in America as well. He was fortunate to know a purveyor or two of the boys he liked to use and he made certain to bring some of the finest rums from the Bahamas, Cuba, and Bermuda for his connections. He paid them handsomely and was rewarded with the highest quality in submissive young men. His cock hardened as he thought of the coming weeks, tasting the youth that he craved while loading his strong box with more gold and silver than he could carry.
Anthony was called a gentleman here in England and a Blockade Runner and blackguard by the Union troops. Trading arms and other luxuries with the Confederacy and in turn, highly priced cotton and tobacco with the English, had made Anthony Charles a very wealthy man in the two years since the beginning of the War Between the States. Though the Union had more than five hundred ships patrolling the waters around the southern states, waiting to catch just such a ship as the Tempest, Anthony had been able to avoid capture to date. Weighted down with cargo, it would have been difficult to outrun the Union fleet had he been spotted, and once within blockaded waters, he traveled by night with blackened sails, like his pirate ancestors. He knew that the Union was making progress and that the Confederacy could only hold out for so long under such an onslaught. As such, he always insisted on taking his payment in gold, knowing that the Confederate notes would someday soon be worthless.
Easing his ship into its prearranged berth, he called out to the crew to drop anchor. The sound of the anchor hitting the filthy water was like music to his ears. Within a few hours, his men would be whoring and Anthony would be visiting a very discreet brothel not far from theTempest. Anthony Charles was a handsome man and he knew it. His coal black hair and light blue eyes were his very best features. He stood several inches above six feet and his shoulders were broad. The years of work on board various ships had shaped his body into a rock hard, solid mass of muscle. At thirty years of age, he enticed every woman that locked eyes with him. Alas, womanly company was not on the menu with Anthony Charles. He danced with them and dined with them to keep up appearances and was known as a rogue. But sleep with them, never. When they fluttered their pretty lashes at him and coyly smiled an invitation, he explained that he was engaged to be married and they sighed their disappointment, hating the one who'd captured his heart.
"Mr Baker," Anthony called out. The smaller man swung his head around at the sound and hurried to his captain's side. Anthony nearly smiled as his bosun jumped to obey his orders.
"Aye, Captain? Is there something you need, sir?" Anthony was pleased that his crew showed him instant respect. His dominant personality would have it no other way. He demanded a lot of his crew and they respected him for it. Of course, he also paid well for their loyalty.
"Set the watch, Mr Baker. Tell the men on the watch that they will be more than handsomely rewarded for their service. Ask for volunteers first but if need be, mete out their assignments."
"Aye, Captain," Mr Baker replied. "Was there anything else, sir?" Mr Baker waited patiently to hear his captain's orders.
"I will be staying onshore this evening. I trust that you will enjoy yourself as well." He landed a large palm on the bosun's shoulder as the man's face flushed with color.
"Aye, Captain," he muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "Have a good time, Captain." Anthony managed a smile for his second in command as he prepared to return to his cabin.
"I intend to, Mr Baker." At the thought of it, Anthony's cock throbbed within the confines of his tightly cut britches. He hurried to turn his back on Mr Baker, so as not to show his excitement. Anthony was not a small man and he knew as his cock swelled, he would become obvious within moments. He brushed past more than one excited sailor on his way back to his large and well-appointed cabin. By the time he got to the large oak portal, he was nearly bursting from his arousal. The thought of having a young thing at his feet, blindfolded and wrists bound while Anthony fucked his willing mouth, had him ready to come.
Anthony pushed open the door to his cabin and entered, quickly locking it from the inside. He proceeded to stand before his bed as he unfastened his britches. His impressive long, thick cock sprang from its confines and Anthony took it in hand, giving it only a few rough strokes before he felt his orgasm rise. Raising his other hand and grasping the bulkhead, he pictured a young submissive whimper as his head was held in place with two fists in his hair, while his mouth was violated over and over by Anthony's straining member. Anthony stroked his cock harder, faster, picturing the way the submissive raised his face just a little, letting the large head of Anthony's cock bump the back of his throat over and over again. The imagined stimulation was too much and Anthony fairly sped his palm in frenzied motions.
He felt a river of pre-come as it left his slit, and gritting his teeth, he glanced down. The sight of his purple head and the fantasy of it in the young man's mouth were too much for Anthony. He grunted and came, feeling the roiling heat leave his balls and travel the length of his cock all the way up. Anthony forced himself to keep his eyes open and on the sight of his climax and nearly lost his mind as a fountain of come spewed forth, arcing in the air and then landing on the floor at his feet. He grunted again and felt his knees nearly buckle as come pulsed out of him, sending shivers of delight through his body. Anthony shuddered as the climax sent a second, then third, spray of semen pouring out of his body. He realized he'd gone way too long without. Anthony fastened his britches and grabbed his heavy purse, leaving his cabin soon after as he made for the discreet house several blocks from the docks.
Anthony had clients to look up, once he'd found his pleasure for the night, but he was solely focused on one thing this evening. His cock thickened once again as he thought of it. Within fifteen minutes, Anthony stepped inside the dark rooms of Pleasure House. Greeted by Marcello, a bald giant of a man, he was welcomed within.
"'Tis good to see you, Milord Captain," Marcello said formally, bowing only slightly at the waist. Madame Gizelle had chosen well when she'd picked Marcello to guard her door. He sorted the riff raff from the paying clientele and kept out those less deeply pocketed. All guests had to be referred to Pleasure House by a current client. That way, Madame was able to assure a modicum of safety for her employees. Still, they had the occasional drop in of less than savory characters who'd heard rumors of the special services that Madame offered. Those were turned away by Marcello, sometimes by force, if the poor sod was overly insistent. A hulking bear of a man, not many men were a match for Marcello.
"Good evening Marcello. It's nice to see you," Anthony swept his top hat from his head and glanced around the quiet room. It was just after dark and the common rooms were empty but for a buffet laid upon the sideboard for tonight's guests and a healthy amount of candles, which were reflected in the many mirrors around the room. Crystal decanters and the finest in Anthony's liquors were laid out at the lavishly carved mahogany bar opposite the sidebar. Marcello stepped behind the bar, and offered Anthony a libation.
"What will you have this evening, Milord Captain? Madame has a fine selection, from around the world I hear." Marcello was obviously trying not to smile, though his wide lips twitched. Anthony was certain that Marcello knew from where Madame Gizelle's wine cellars were stocked. Anthony regularly had shipments sent over, for a fair price of course, but the superb quality of the imports, were without question.
"Brandy, Marcello. My thanks." Marcello nodded and picked up a cut crystal decanter. The golden liquid within sparkled in the candlelight.
"Did I hear the door, Marcello? Ah, Anthony," Madame Gizelle purred as she entered the Salon where she saw the American, standing at the bar. Anthony immediately put down his drink and approached the woman. He bowed and took her proffered hand, kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Ah Gizelle, if it's possible you look even more lovely and youthful than the last time we met," he said in reply. She chuckled.
"Anthony darling," she said as she turned, obviously showing off her shapely behind to the ship captain. "You ever make a girl swoon."
Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home.
"Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies.
"Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse.
"How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked.
"Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue.
"Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."
Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door.
"Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued.
"Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test.
"Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches.
"Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said.
February 2, 2012
ALWAYS HOPE - 20 FEBRUARY 2012
BLURB:Ash Watts has his life exactly how he wants it. He's finally reporting on high profile stories, has a gorgeous boyfriend and an apartment with a fabulous view of LA. He didn't think his world could be more perfect until it comes crashing down around his ears. Instead of settling into his brand new corner office, he finds himself on a flight to Freedom, Alabama, population 1872, to bury his only sister. What he finds there are a group of older women known locally as The Coven, a secret his sister had been keeping from him and an honest to God cowboy who was holding onto a secret of his own.
Kaleb Gibson was a native of Freedom, born and bred. When Annie Watts breezed into town he'd found the best friend he'd ever had, and her death had left a gaping hole in his heart. When Ash Watts arrives, with the same dark hair and green eyes, he's in danger of losing his heart all over again, but he can't forgive the man for neglecting his sister when she needed him most. At the reading of Annie's Will, Kaleb is shocked when he and Ash are thrown together in a way he never imagined. Then he is left wondering how he is going to carry out Annie's last wishes without killing her beloved brother, and without revealing a secret from his own past that could destroy everything.
MASQUERADE: BEHIND THE MASK - 4 FEBRUARY 2012
The Masquerade Trilogy is here with stories from Sue Brown, Lisa Worrall and Patricia Logan. Get your masks and dancing shoes on....the masquerade is about to begin...
Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.
Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.
Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.
Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.
Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him.
**~~** Other stories in The Masquerade Trilogy are...
Check out more about this author's work at the following places.... Lisa Worrall's Blog
Behind the Mask by Lisa Worrall Book 3 in The Masquerade Trilogy Silver Publishing Gay (M/M), Contemporary, Valentine's Day, Interracial, Holiday Buy HERE The Downe's Valentine's Day Masquerade Ball has been an annual event for over a hundred years and where, four years ago, Gabe met Mike. It's been over six months since Mike's death and Mike thinks that Gabe is ready to move on. How does Gabe know this? He receives a letter and a ticket to the ball, from Mike. Gabe isn't sure he'll ever be ready to move on, but in deference to Mike's memory, he attends the ball. What Gabe doesn't know, is that his best friend, Tom, the one constant in his life since college, has also received a letter from Mike. Will Gabe be able to move forward and remember a long forgotten love, or will his world come crumbling down around his ears, again? PG Excerpt: It felt like a lifetime ago, instead of four short years, that he'd stood exactly where he was now, staring at the splendour of Downe Hall, listening to the music spilling from the windows, his ticket clutched in his hand, just as it was now. Then, of course, his friend Tom had stood beside him, nudging him and urging him forward.Going to the Downe Valentine's Masquerade Ball had been Tom's idea back then. He'd had a real bee in his bonnet about it, made it sound like they were the losers of the year if they didn't attend, and how infamous the Downe Masquerade Ball was. If Gabe recalled correctly, the ridiculous corny expression, "It's the event of the year!" had left Tom's lips on more than one occasion. Tickets had been so expensive Gabe had almost balked at the price, but Tom had made it sound so damned exciting and had played to Gabe's more gullible, romantic side--before he'd known what he was doing, the tickets had been purchased and they were in the costumers, picking out their outfits.
Four years ago, Tom had been fit to be tied by the time the taxi had pulled up outside Downe Hall. Gabe had spent the previous week reading everything he could about the place and had known its history inside out. The Masquerade ball had originally been held in London, until the event had proved too popular in the late 1830s and in need of a bigger venue. Thomas Downe had then decided opening his country estate once a year to his friends, neighbours and the elite of London society was a much more feasible option. The history books had been rife with stories that said Downe's sister, Mary, had not exactly been enamoured by the idea, and although the siblings lived in the same house, apparently they didn't speak to each other for almost a year. He remembered staring up at the house as the taxi had come to a stop outside the mansion that night, and wondering how unsettling the atmosphere must have been with brother and sister walking the gardens, ignoring each other as they went about their daily life; their only communication being through the servants.
Not that communication on the taxi ride had been a problem for him and Tom that night. His best friend's lips hadn't stopped flapping since Gabe had arrived at Tom's to get dressed. The moron had been so over the top about the whole thing that Gabe had asked him on more than one occasion over the last week what was so special about the damned dance? Tom had merely shrugged and changed the subject, and had continued to behave like Tigger on speed, so much so that Gabe had been concerned Tom might've actually spontaneously combusted before they'd even made it to their first Masquerade.
Looking up at the awe-inspiring country estate again now, a fond smile curved Gabe's lips as the memory of that Valentine's night in 2007 surrounded him.
**~~** Other stories in The Masquerade Trilogy are...
Check out more about this author's work at the following places.... Lisa Worrall's Blog
FLASH FICTION FRIDAY
Hello my pretties and welcome to Flash Fiction Friday, where you will find one hundred words per week based upon a picture chosen at random by either myself or my cohorts in this marvellous adventure. Make sure you follow the links both within the one hundred and at the bottom of this post to see what other delights await you.
Christian gently kissed Xavier's temple, "I have to go, baby. I've got a class in half an hour," he said, standing up and gazing down at his lover. "Don't say it. You're forgiven. As if I'd let anyone come between us—you're mine."
He kissed Xavier again, wiping a leaf from his hair and purposely ignoring the dark purple bruising already visible around his lover's throat. He vaguely remembered the sound Xavier's windpipe had made when he'd crushed it, but that didn't matter now. This was their place. Their secret place, and Xavier would be waiting for him there—forever.
A huge thank you to Christian Jensen and Xavier Axelson for allowing me to slip them in this week's FFF. Make sure you click on their names to see what wickedly wonderful things they've been up to and make sure you check out Lily, Xavier's new release.
See you next week!
Christian gently kissed Xavier's temple, "I have to go, baby. I've got a class in half an hour," he said, standing up and gazing down at his lover. "Don't say it. You're forgiven. As if I'd let anyone come between us—you're mine."
He kissed Xavier again, wiping a leaf from his hair and purposely ignoring the dark purple bruising already visible around his lover's throat. He vaguely remembered the sound Xavier's windpipe had made when he'd crushed it, but that didn't matter now. This was their place. Their secret place, and Xavier would be waiting for him there—forever.
A huge thank you to Christian Jensen and Xavier Axelson for allowing me to slip them in this week's FFF. Make sure you click on their names to see what wickedly wonderful things they've been up to and make sure you check out Lily, Xavier's new release.
See you next week!
GUEST STAR: SUE BROWN
Sue Brown is joining me today to chat about The Masquerade Trilogy.
All three stories are being released on 4 February 2012
and Sue's is the first book, The Layered Mask.
Oh, and she may also mention her favourite thing... no, not me, that's a given, she doesn't need to talk about it... I'm talking about the most staple food group in the world... CHOCOLATE!
Hi, my name is Sue, and I am a chocolate addict. And a coffee addict. And I'm rather partial to a glass of red wine as well. As it's nine in the morning I'll stick with the coffee and tell you a story.It's Valentine's Day, and you and your loved one are sharing gifts. His heart in his eyes, he hands over a small box, wrapped up in paper. It's so obvious it's a special gift from the way his hands are shaking. Your heart pitter-patters as you realise it is a jewellery box – maybe for that gift you've always wanted? Taking the next step into your relationship? Your hands are shaking as you undo the paper and open up the box.And there, nestled in red velvet is the end of a packet of sweets. The last Rolo. You stare, dumbfounded, for a minute, gathering your thoughts.
What, my friends, is your response to this heart-felt gift?
Do you:· 1. Throw it back at him screaming that you never want to see him again.· 2. Appreciate the significance of the gesture.· 3. Eat the Rolo.· 4. Offer it back to him as a sign of your love.
My friends, this happened to me. I can tell you that I fully appreciated the significance of the gift. As I was a mere young'un I didn't even think about the possibility of what the box might have contained. I didn't,Would you share your last rolo?
Absolutely, fucking, classic! I adored this advert... I am so glad you found this... oh, the memories!
Now, here is a snippet of Masquerade: The Layered Mask - a must buy for every Sue Brown fan! Sod it! It's just a must buy!
The Layered MaskBuy Link: https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/masquerade-the-layered-mask-ebook-p-730
Published on 4th February
Blurb: Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London for one season to find a wife. While there, Nash discovers he is the lamb, the sacrifice of the society matrons, to be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.
During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Thomas calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash had hidden for years and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.
What will happen when the time comes for Edwin to return home with a suitable bride?
Excerpt: Downe held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked huskily, holding out his hand.
Eyes widening in shock, Nash swallowed audibly. He hesitated and then placed his hand in Downe's, allowing the older man to draw him to his feet. Downe gathered him into a dancing position, hoping that Nash would not pull away once he realised he was in the lady's role.
"You will have to guide me," Nash said, resting his left hand lightly on Downe's right arm, as he waited for Downe to take the first step. If this position did bother him, Nash didn't say so, as he smiled up at Downe.
Having Edwin Nash in his arms, warm and solid despite his slight form, left Downe breathless. Downe wondered if the young man was even aware of the effect he was having on him. Struggling against the urge to pull Nash hard against him, Downe hummed the music to a slow waltz.
They started dancing, Nash only taking a short while to grasp the simple steps, and suddenly Downe could see why the waltz was thought of as scandalous. They weren't touching except for their hands, but it was so intimate, a few inches between them instead of the width of a line. For once, Downe thought the moral brigade may have had the right idea. Being able to hold your partner so close was… he struggled to find the right word… sensuous. He was aware of every part of Nash's lithe body, from the curls of his dark hair around his temple to his shapely legs almost, but not quite, pressed up against his.
Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.
Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.Please join in the giveaway in February on my blog: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.com/
Thank you so much for joining us and putting a huge smile on my face. Layered Mask is a masterfully drawn piece of historical romance and I cannot wait to get my copy :)
Oh, and she may also mention her favourite thing... no, not me, that's a given, she doesn't need to talk about it... I'm talking about the most staple food group in the world... CHOCOLATE!
Hi, my name is Sue, and I am a chocolate addict. And a coffee addict. And I'm rather partial to a glass of red wine as well. As it's nine in the morning I'll stick with the coffee and tell you a story.It's Valentine's Day, and you and your loved one are sharing gifts. His heart in his eyes, he hands over a small box, wrapped up in paper. It's so obvious it's a special gift from the way his hands are shaking. Your heart pitter-patters as you realise it is a jewellery box – maybe for that gift you've always wanted? Taking the next step into your relationship? Your hands are shaking as you undo the paper and open up the box.And there, nestled in red velvet is the end of a packet of sweets. The last Rolo. You stare, dumbfounded, for a minute, gathering your thoughts.
What, my friends, is your response to this heart-felt gift?
Do you:· 1. Throw it back at him screaming that you never want to see him again.· 2. Appreciate the significance of the gesture.· 3. Eat the Rolo.· 4. Offer it back to him as a sign of your love.
My friends, this happened to me. I can tell you that I fully appreciated the significance of the gift. As I was a mere young'un I didn't even think about the possibility of what the box might have contained. I didn't,Would you share your last rolo?
Absolutely, fucking, classic! I adored this advert... I am so glad you found this... oh, the memories!
Now, here is a snippet of Masquerade: The Layered Mask - a must buy for every Sue Brown fan! Sod it! It's just a must buy!
The Layered MaskBuy Link: https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/masquerade-the-layered-mask-ebook-p-730
Published on 4th February
Blurb: Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London for one season to find a wife. While there, Nash discovers he is the lamb, the sacrifice of the society matrons, to be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.
During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Thomas calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash had hidden for years and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.
What will happen when the time comes for Edwin to return home with a suitable bride?
Excerpt: Downe held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked huskily, holding out his hand.
Eyes widening in shock, Nash swallowed audibly. He hesitated and then placed his hand in Downe's, allowing the older man to draw him to his feet. Downe gathered him into a dancing position, hoping that Nash would not pull away once he realised he was in the lady's role.
"You will have to guide me," Nash said, resting his left hand lightly on Downe's right arm, as he waited for Downe to take the first step. If this position did bother him, Nash didn't say so, as he smiled up at Downe.
Having Edwin Nash in his arms, warm and solid despite his slight form, left Downe breathless. Downe wondered if the young man was even aware of the effect he was having on him. Struggling against the urge to pull Nash hard against him, Downe hummed the music to a slow waltz.
They started dancing, Nash only taking a short while to grasp the simple steps, and suddenly Downe could see why the waltz was thought of as scandalous. They weren't touching except for their hands, but it was so intimate, a few inches between them instead of the width of a line. For once, Downe thought the moral brigade may have had the right idea. Being able to hold your partner so close was… he struggled to find the right word… sensuous. He was aware of every part of Nash's lithe body, from the curls of his dark hair around his temple to his shapely legs almost, but not quite, pressed up against his.
Author Bio: Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.
Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.Please join in the giveaway in February on my blog: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.com/
Thank you so much for joining us and putting a huge smile on my face. Layered Mask is a masterfully drawn piece of historical romance and I cannot wait to get my copy :)
February 1, 2012
COMING SOON - 10 MARCH 2012 - LAUREL HEIGHTS
BLURB:
A shot rings out in the dead of night and leaves two residents dead in the exclusive gated housing community of Laurel Heights, an apparent murder/suicide, but not everyone is convinced.
Scott Turner and Will Harrison are sent undercover to Laurel Heights to dig beneath the surface, and discover answers. There's only one problem. Laurel Heights is an exclusive gay housing community. Pretending to be a gay is not exactly difficult for Scott and Will as, unbeknownst to each other and everyone other than their respective partners at work, that's what they are – two gay men, pretending to be straight, who then have to pretend that they're gay.
Detectives Scott Turner and Will Harrison are sent undercover after an apparent murder/suicide in Laurel Heights, an exclusive gay housing community. Will the two closeted officers be able to hide their attraction while believing the other is straight? And is there a killer among them waiting to claim his next victim?
UNEDITED EXCERPT:Two hours later, their Captain barked a command from the open doorway of his office. "Cassidy, Bates, bring your girlfriends in here!" Slamming the door behind him, he returned to his desk and handed a box of tissues to one of the other two men in the room. "Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" Glenn Hall asked for the third time since they'd arrived. He sighed as his cousin shook his head, for the third time. "You look like shit, Damon," he said quietly.Glenn had been the Captain of the White Plains Homicide Team for six years and not once, in all those years had he had a member of his own family involved, albeit very loosely, in a murder. His grey eyes narrowed as he watched Damon blow his nose again, and dab at the tears rolling down his cheeks. Glenn had appointed himself Damon's surrogate brother while they were growing up and they were very close. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and looked up at the knock on the door. "Come!" he yelled and watched his four best file into the room. "Sit," he instructed, waiting until the two women had taken seats and the two men were standing behind their respective partners."Damon, Cal, this is Turner, Harrison, Cassidy, and Bates. People, this is my cousin, Damon Hall and his partner, Cal Perry," he began by way of introduction and waved his hand at the two men."You remember the murder/suicide over at Laurel Heights a month ago?" Glenn leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach as he stared at his detectives. "Damon and Cal live in Laurel Heights, and they were friends of Jon and Cory, the accused and the victim. I know it looked pretty much open and shut, but Damon and Cal aren't so sure and, now, neither am I." Turning to his cousin, he smiled softly, uncaring if his affection for the other man was clear to anyone else in the room. "Damon, you wanna take it from here?"
* * * *
Scott leaned against the bookcase he was standing next to and watched Damon from beneath lowered lashes, as the other man stood up and walked over to the window. It was obvious that the man was upset and by the shake of his shoulders, Scott surmised that Damon wanted to regain his composure before speaking. While they waited, he took the time to study the couple.Hall bore a slight resemblance to his cousin, but only in the twice-removed kind of way. Whereas Hall's hair was a shortly cropped, rusty brown, liberally sprinkled with gray; Damon's was black, and fell in a widow's peak across his forehead. His eyes were blue, as opposed to smoky gray, and he was clean-shaven with full, pouty lips, whereas the Captain liked to sport a neat beard and mustache. His gaze fell to Cal Perry, who still sat in the chair, watching Damon anxiously. Cal was a very striking man, with skin the color of ebony, limpid brown eyes, a thin mustache and neatly trimmed, barely there goatee. Scott felt the man's genuine concern for his boyfriend, rolling off Cal in waves, and he watched the way he twisted his hands nervously in his lap while he waited for Damon to speak.No one needed any explanation regarding Laurel Heights itself. The purpose-built, five-house cul de sac was famous in White Plains before the incident last month; now it was the 'in' topic on everyone's lips. Laurel Heights was an exclusive gated community in the leafy suburb of North White Plains, seventeen miles outside of White Plains, and in a very sought after area to live, by the wealthier population of the city. There was, however, one stipulation to owning a property in Laurel Heights. You had to be a couple and you had to be gay.The murder/suicide had happened just over a month ago when Cory Philips had, apparently in a fit of rage, shot his partner, Jon Webber in the head at close range. In his grief, it would appear that Philips had turned the gun on himself. The other residents of Laurel Heights had been interviewed and had testified as to the volatile nature of Jon and Cory's relationship, and the fact that they had been fighting on and off the day of the incident. As the Captain had said, pretty open and shut. Scott watched Damon slowly turn from the window and waited patiently for the man to collect himself before he began.Damon wiped futilely at the tears still coursing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick and raw as he took the clean tissue that Cal held out to him. "It's been very hard." He took a deep steadying breath and began again."I know the other residents of Laurel Heights said that Cory and Jon had a volatile relationship, but it's simply not true. They were young, in love and deliriously happy." He wiped at his nose and sank into the seat beside Cal before continuing. "They were the sweetest couple I've ever seen and I just don't believe a word of it. There is no way that Cory would have done that to Jon. No way on this earth. He would rather have cut off his own hand than hurt that boy. He loved him.""Mr Hall, why would the other residents lie about the nature of Mr Philips' and Mr Webber's relationship? What reason would they have?" Will's deep voice echoed around the room.Cal reached out for Damon's hand as the man dissolved into more tears, and picked up the story. "Detectives, I know that Laurel Heights is, shall we say, an unusual community, but there is more that goes on behind those closed doors than you or anyone else realizes." He glanced at Hall for affirmation and took a deep breath when his boyfriend indicated his acquiescence. "Look, we're not ashamed of it, although it is not to everyone's taste. There are certain practices once a month at Laurel Heights. We don't always indulge, but we have done and we know that Cory and Jon did too. We think whatever happened that night had to do with the part of Laurel Heights that only the residents see. That there was a reason they had to be silenced."
AVAILABLE NOW! LIGHT OF DAY BY SUE BROWN
BUY NOW!Sequel to The Night Porter
The first time Max laid eyes on Robert Armitage, he knew exactly what he wanted to happen. But Max was just a night porter and Robert a guest at the hotel before his wedding, and Max knew even as they slept together that in the morning he'd have to send the groom on his way. Max's heart was broken when Robert left, and so he ran home to Texas. When Robert's marriage failed, Max waited for Robert to come looking for him, and waited….
A year later, Max's dreams come true and Robert finds him, but there's a catch, and Max has to decide if he wants Robert enough to be satisfied with hiding their relationship.
Prologue
The Dream
MAX was convinced his shift would never end. By the time he finally got out of The Crescent Hotel, the London evening weather matched his mood. It was raining hard again, water seeping down the back of his neck. As Max trudged home, his mind wasn't on the weather but the sight of Robert's large frame walking out of the hotel room toward his future. A future that didn't include Max.
He stopped as he reached the top floor of his building. Robert was slumped on the floor, his back against the front door of the studio apartment. He was the last person Max expected to see, wet and shivering, on his doorstep. The man should be at his reception, celebrating his wedding to his beautiful bride, Evie. Robert's eyes were closed and he didn't seem to notice who was beside him until Max knelt down.
"Hey." Max laid a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly.
Opening his eyes, Robert gave a wan smile when he saw Max kneeling beside him. "Hey." He had aged five years since their confrontation that morning, his eyes bloodshot and swollen and his skin pale under his summer tan.
"Robert…." Max started to speak, wanting to know if Robert was here for him or here because he had nowhere else to go.
"Not now, Max, please? I've just dumped my fiancée at the altar with no real explanation. It's been just about the shittiest day of my life. I need to sleep and I'd like to sleep with you, if you'll let me?" He sounded so weary, his Texan accent deeper, and because Max was weak and stupid, he opened the door and let Robert back into his life.
They stripped off their clothes and climbed into the small bed, Max pulling Robert's head down onto his chest, ignoring the fact that his long and straggly hair was still damp. Robert burrowed into him like he was trying to hide. Max stroked the long line of Robert's back and kissed the top of his head.
Rain pattered down against the skylight, but Max felt warm and happy in his bed, even as quiet tears soaked into his skin. He tightened his hold on Robert and waited for the storm to pass.
