M.A. Church's Blog, page 165

Winner of the Trapped in Time giveaway

  And the winner is... Michelle Michelle, I've passed your name on to Julie. She'll be getting in touch with you soon. Congrats!

Sexy Snippets - The Yellow Rope

Hey everyone! Welcome to Sexy Snippets. This is seven sentences, taken from a work in progress, or published book, and brought to you every Sunday. For this week, I thought I’d do something from my eXtasy release The Yellow Rope.
What are the three words that can get the heart thumping, send blood pressure though the roof, and make the very breath in your chest freeze? That can make a grown person yell with unabashed joy, have their hands shake with excitement, and bring tears to their eyes in relief? What are three little words that are worth their weight in gold?
That’s right… a long weekend. J 


http://www.extasybooks.com/the-yellow-rope/ 
 
“Oh, no, you’re not gonna….” Gage tugged hard on Luke’s cock, stopping his orgasm. “Breathe, babe.” Air exploded from Luke’s lungs. “Fuck! Dammit, man, I just lost brains cells from you doing that.” Gage’s bark of laughter sounded in the vehicle. “You moron, you don’t lose brain cells from orgasm denial.”“Wanna bet? I feel stupider, trust me.”

My Sexy Saturday - Faded Love

   Happy Saturday and welcome to My Sexy Saturday! For this hop you post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. It can be from a WIP or something published.
For this week, I thought I’d do something from Faded Love, a single title release from the Carved in Flesh anthology which will be released September 10thfrom Storm Moon Press. I don't have a buy link or a cover just yet, but soon. :)
Enjoy! And don’t forget to visit the rest of Blog Hop.  One moment in time can change your life, especially a life that revolves around your face. A near-fatal car accident leaves a world famous model’s face scarred and his career in a tailspin. The life Ashley knew is over and he wants to do nothing but fade away into nothingness. Only his lover, Will, can pull him out of his dark depression and make Ashley see even scars an be beautiful.~ ~ ~Died? Jesus.” Every time Ashley tried to lift his hand to his face, Will stopped him. “What’s wrong with my vision? Why can I only see out of one side?”
Gripping his hand, Will hesitated. “You were struck so hard your head hit the driver side window.”
Ashley gripped Will’s hand. There was more, he just knew it. What little he could make out of Will’s concerned face told him that. “And? Tell me, dammit!”
“The window busted. There was glass everywhere. Oh God, Ashley, I’m so sorry. You were cut. On your face… and—and… there’s going to be a scar.”
“A scar?” Ashley whispered, and then his voice gained in strength as horror stabbed at him. “A scar, on my face? My face? No! Oh my God, no! How bad, Will? How fucking bad?”
Tears soaked Will’s voice. “From the hair line to under your chin. Jesus, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”
The screams from Ashley’s room brought most of the nursing staff at a dead run.  

Welcome Julie Lynn Hayes and a giveaway for Trapped in Time!

Good morning, M.A, and thanks for letting me stop by! It feels like coming home, I’ve been here so much! Which reminds me, got any coffee?
I’d like to start out today by asking a question of everyone, food for thought.
Have you ever had a crush on someone?
Of course you have, everyone has, at one time or another. Maybe lots of crushes. They’re fun, exciting. Make our hearts race and our blood sing. They make us come alive and keep us young!
It usually starts in grade school. You see a cute boy or girl and zing! An arrow straight to the heart. Suddenly he’s all  you can think about, his image fills your mind even when he’s not around. Even if you don’t know his name. Or, if you do, and you’ve never spoken to him because you’re invisible to him. None of that matters. What matters is that he’s the object of your crush, and that makes him the most important guy in the world. The guy of your dreams.
Do you tell anyone? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You certainly don’t tell the boy in question, but your best friend? Of course! That’s something you share (unless it’s her boyfriend or brother, that’s another matter entirely). Something you bond over, giggle over, plot, moon, and dream over.  Because she probably has one too, so it becomes shared fodder for girl talk.
You plan romantic dates with Mr. Secret Love, and dream of being married, even before you  know what being married is all about. And you know he’ll be the best husband in the world and love you more than anyone has ever been loved before. Visions of a cute little house with a picket fence, or your own personal version thereof, fill your dreams. And you doodle his name all over your notebooks, preceded by Mrs.
Crushes can also be painful, especially if pulled into the light of day by cold-hearted peers. Sometimes it’s a friend who means well but has a big mouth. Or a sibling who’s read your diary and knows all—and tells it. Or the boyfriend/girlfriend of the object of your fantasies, who objects to your worship of someone they consider theirs. Or it can be by the crush himself, who laughs at the idea of even being with you. Yes, crushes can be painful.
When I was in seventh grade, I crushed on my science teacher, and fantasized about him 24/7. I dreamed about marrying him, and I even told people that the huge ring I wore was an engagement ring I’d gotten from him, caught up in my own fantasy. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. In fact, as I later learned long after I’d grown up and moved on, the object of my crush was and is gay. Figures, right?
So, what sort of crush is safe to have? One that won’t get you beat down by everyone around you?
Movie and book crushes, of course, pop to mind. I’ve crushed on so many actors it isn’t funny. Usually a lot older than me, at least while I was growing up. When I was twelve, it was Burt Lancaster. And Barnabas Collins, from Dark Shadows. James Mason. Richard Burton.  Count Dracula. But then I discovered a different kind of crushing, one which isn’t often admitted to.
Have you ever crushed on someone from history? An actual personage, someone who’s now left the stage for the next life, someone whom you fantasize about what it would have been like to love?
Oh yes, been there, done that.
I think I didn’t even realize my early crushes for what they were, men like Henry VIII and Napoleon Bonaparte. I just knew I couldn’t get enough of them, in fact or fiction. It wasn’t until I had an erotic dream about Napoleon that I realized it was something more than simple admiration.
Now I’ll freely admit that I have a huge crush on Cardinal Richelieu, so it’s not unexpected that I’d incorporate him into my writing somehow, which I’ve done with Captivations. Captivations is set in New Orleans, and it concerns two brothers who own a night club by that name. But these aren’t ordinary brothers—they’re vampires, one time protégées of Cardinal Richelieu. Now it’s the present day, and when Jillian Nichols arrives, sent by the Church to be their new daykeeper, all Hell breaks loose. This is a WIP, which began as a monthly series at a publisher who went under, so now I’m finishing it on my own and hope to release it this year.
The acorn doesn’t fall from the tree, as I discovered when I learned that my twenty-one year old daughter had  (or maybe still has)a crush on Benjamin Franklin. I shouldn’t have been surprised—her taste in men has generally run to guys that are too old for me!
A historical crush is safe because there are no jealous boyfriends or girlfriends around to get in the way, although I would advise withholding the information from siblings and most peers, for good measure, at least until you’re an adult. I love history as well, so imagining myself going back in time, to meet and talk with my historical crush—well, that’s a fantasy worthy of a novel.
And if  you want to have a little fun, try throwing your characters back in time and see what happens. That’s the premise of my new release with eXtasy Books, Trapped in Time. It began as a bit of flash fiction on my blog, but it grew. Hope you like it!
Thanks for having me, as always! 

Now... for the giveaway! From now until Saturday, Julie is running a giveaway for Trapped in Time. :) What To Do:*Leave a comment telling me which dinosaur you think is the coolest. *Leave me an email addy, please! *I'll announce the winner Sunday. Good luck, everyone!~M 


Blurb:Life is good for Adalbert “Doll” Klein. He has his beautiful sexy Italian, Vittorio Genovese by his side,  he has his pennyfarthing, and his job at the Arabesque Theatre. The only wrinkle is the presence of Myron Cornwinkle, who has designs on Vittorio, but the man has no chance. Doll owns Vittorio’s heart.
Doll sneers at Myron’s claims of being a wizard. Until the day he goes to work and his whole world changes when Myron pulls his wand and casts a spell – and suddenly all three of them are stuck in prehistoric ages!
Is there a way to undo what Myron has done and return to where they belong? And if Myron doesn’t clean up his act, will he survive the experience?
And is there something lurking in the jungle that might be even worse than the dinosaurs?
 
Excerpt:  
The day started pretty much like any other. I got up, ate breakfast, took a shower, cleaned the bathroom and got ready for work. So far, so good. I actually enjoy going to my place of employment, because the love of my life works there, too. His name is Vittorio, he’s six foot one inch sexy Italian and incredibly hunkalicious! And I love him to death.
Vittorio Genovese. Doesn’t it just roll off your tongue? It does mine, and it gives me goose bumps to boot.
In comparison, my name barely rates an honorable mention. In fact, I’d rather not mention it at all, but here goes nothing. Adalbert Klein. Ja, very Germanic, I know. And yes, I look very German, with my curly blond hair and my blue eyes and my incessant need to clean my apartment every frigging day.
But Vittorio’s so cute! He shortens my name and calls me Doll. I’m his little Doll, which makes it a play on my last name, being as it’s Klein. And seeing as I’m only about five foot four. So it fits on all counts.
Yes, thanks for pointing out that we must look like an odd couple when we’re together. Because I needed to hear that. But don’t worry about it. When we’re in bed, height doesn’t matter, and we fit together perfectly.
So back to where I was.
I closed and locked my apartment. On my way out the door, I greeted my landlady with a big hug and a kiss. Basically because she’s also my Mutti and I love her very much. “Have a good day, Adal,” she told me, like she tells me every day. She stood in the doorway and waved, while I mounted my bicycle. I waved back before I pedaled away on my pennyfarthing.
These bikes are all the rage now—some people call them Hi-wheels. I just know that I love being up so high. Sometimes, I pretend I’m a zeppelin pilot, like the ones I see overhead. I dream of flying one someday, but Mutti says no, that won’t be allowed. She’s only looking out for me because she loves me. My Vati used to fly a zeppelin. His name was Rolf, and he was a great big bear of a man. He loved me and my Mutti, and he loved my Vittorio. Ach, when the two of them would get together, there’d be so much fun! Vittorio with his wine and my Vati with his beer, and we’d all drink together and sing, and…I miss him so much. He died in a freak zeppelin accident. I don’t blame the airship, but Mutti does. I hope she gets over that soon, but for now, I’m being patient. It’s only been six months, and the wound needs time to heal.
My ride to work takes me exactly twenty minutes. Every day the same two-mile ride. But I don’t mind. I smile at people I pass along the way, and they smile back at me, because everyone knows everyone and life is grand.
Vittorio is waiting for me when I arrive, because he knows precisely when I will be there. He’s waiting on the sidewalk outside the Arabesque Theatre, and he lifts me from my bike as easily as lifting a bratwurst from a bun. They can keep their newfangled hot dogs, or Coney dogs, or whatever they’re calling them. I prefer the taste of German sausage in my mouth.
Or Italian, when it comes to Vittorio, but that’s another matter.
The Arabesque is the nicest theatre in town, and we show the best films. Vittorio is very excited about a new film that starts today. He tells me there is this very handsome man in it, and when I look at the poster he’s plastered on the front of the theater, I have to agree.
The film is called The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. If this Valentino guy can act half as good as he looks, I think he’ll go far.
Vittorio sets me on my feet, but only after a proper hello kiss, and together we walk into the theater, walking my bike between us. And there, waiting for us, is the fly in the ointment. The imperfection in our otherwise perfect job.
Myron Cornwinkle.
I swear, if this was a drama, he’d be cast as the villain of the piece. He even has the moustaches for it. And he twirls them in an overly dramatic fashion. I think they’re fake, personally. I don’t think he could grow a real moustache if he tried, and someday, I’m going to pull those nasty-looking things off of his smirky face.
He works at the Arabesque, too. Feel free to boo or hiss whenever you see his name mentioned on these pages. In fact, I encourage it.
He’s the film projector. I’m the usher, and Vittorio plays the organ because, of course, the films are silent, so we have to supply our own music.
“Ah ha!” he sneers as we try to walk past him, twirling those cheesey-looking things and attempting to look menacing. In one hand, he holds a reel against his chest, twirling with the other.
The trouble with Myron is that he has this idea he’s in love with Vittorio and that he’s going to marry him. Over my dead body! Or, rather, over his.
Plus, he also thinks he’s a wizard. Touched in the head is what I think he is.
“What do you want, Moron?” I interject myself between my love and my enemy. I’d love to run Myron down with my bike, but I don’t. At least not now.
He doesn’t answer but pulls out his wand and mutters something, while I tap my foot and wait.
Nothing. No response. Is he playing deaf and dumb today or what?
Until suddenly, there is something. The entire theatre shakes, and this big colorful ball of light envelops the three of us... and then poof!
Once I get over feeling dizzy and I open my eyes again, I find myself staring up into the eyes of a Tyrannosaurus Rex!
 
Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her other published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing and coming soon to Torquere Press. She has also begun to self-publish and is an editor at MuseitUp.  
 
You can find her on her blog at http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com, and you can contact her at tothemax.wolf@gmail.com.
 
My Links:
My blog:  http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com
My website: www.julielynnhayes.com
My facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=527332074
My Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3442231.Julie_Lynn_Hayes
 
My Publishers:
Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_222
Museit Up Publishing: http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php
eXtasy Books:  http://www.extasybooks.com/index.php?route=product%2Fauthor&author_id=979

Wednesday Briefs - Nighttime Promises #9

  Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are:Use ugliness in some way
or "bad to the bone"
or "you never bring me flowers"
or feature a best man in some way
or have a character say "fiddle-dee-dee!"
or use a blue moon in your tale
or use a flogger, paddle or whip
or “You want me to what?”
or “She’s got a triple D chest and the IQ of wallpaper paste.”
~ ~ ~  
~Nighttime Promises is the 3rd book in the Nighttime series, which is published by Romance First. I'm using the prompts to help me get going on this book. Yes, this is a tentacle story lol. Fair warning! I'm going to pull this about 3/4th of the way through, expand it, and send it off. Most of the story will be shown on here though. I'm giving this warning so no one will be caught off guard when I pull the story.  
Nighttime Promises #9
“It’s a little late to be asking God to help us.” Bryan sprang up from the hard seat and glanced at the room where he and Shawn waited; he tried not to cringe.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Bryan turned to look at Shawn. He focused on the symbols under Shawn’s eyes. Tentatively, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across the raised marks he too had under his eyes. “See this? It means we’re mated. We belong to them. Ziang and Daroshi basically branded us as theirs, Shawn. There’s no hiding these markings.”
“They’re there for a reason.” But Shawn still flinched. “I know, okay? I wasn’t happy when I first saw the symbols. But don’t forget, Ziang and Daroshi belong to us, too, Bryan. You know that.”
Bryan walked to the little—shit, he guessed it was called a window—and looked out at the dreary landscape. “Yeah, but think of this. We’re who knows how many millions and millions of miles away from Earth. It’s not like either of us can mosey out the door and grab a cab to run us home. Thisis our home now. Do you get that?” Bryan rolled his neck. “This fucking ugly planet is where we live now. And I’ll tell you truthfully, this place is the equivalent of Hell for me. There’s nothing but ugly, ugly, and more ugly. I’m a country boy at heart, man—”
“And I’m not?” Shawn demanded.
“Give me green grass, blue skies, plenty of space where I can roam… Give me birds singing, a gentle breeze through the trees, leaves rustling, the warm sun shining down on my face. That’s my peace, man. That’s what balances me. Here it’s cold, desolate, and fucking ugly—it’s so alien, Shawn. There’s no beauty here. But like I said, this is our home now. Somehow, we have to adapt… somehow. And I have no idea how. Shit, I—” Bryan swayed.
Shawn jumped up and hurried across the room. Gently, he grasped Bryan’s arm. “Hey there, are you okay? Maybe you better sit down. You’re kind of pale. Jesus, it wasn’t that long ago someone tried to poison you.”
Bryan let Shawn guide him back to the damnable hard seat He dropped down, without much grace, and grunted in annoyance. “Piece of shit bench.”
Shawn settled next to Bryan. “Yeah, it does leave a lot to desire.”
“I’ll say. I’m fine, just a little weak still. ” Bryan blew out a long sigh. “Look, there’s that whole poisoning deal, too. I’ve been shot at and been hit, knifed, spit on, bit, cussed, beaten… But I always knew why. Perps tend to do that, especially when a cop’s trying to haul them in. I get that. What I don’t get is why someone tried to… Hell, Shawn, someone tried to kill me.”
Shawn grinned. “Maybe it’s just your sparkling personality?”
“Oh ha-ha.” Bryan rubbed his neck and snorted at Shawn’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Thing is, I hadn’t been on the ship long enough to piss anyone off with my ‘sparkling personality’ as you call it. I hate to say this, but I think that attack was more aimed at Daroshi.”
“I have to agree. It surprises me neither Ziang nor Daroshi have thought of that.”
Bryan’s eyebrow hiked up. “Oh, I bet it’s crossed their minds, but not in the way I’m thinking. I’m his mate. Kill me and you know he’d suffer, but he’d live. He’d move on. But… kill me and the way is also cleared for someone else to be his mate, someone beside a puny human.”
Shawn gasped. “What are you saying? You think the attack on you was based on jealousy? But, but—” Shawn frowned. “That would mean Haya didn’t really have a reason to poison you.”
“It’s called a crime of passion for a reason. I’ve also said from the beginning I don’t think Haya had anything to do with it. She wanted me for a pet. She did step over the line by grabbing me, but she’s a bully. I know how to deal with bullies. I was a cop. She was more pissed Daroshi managed to get his request in for me before she did. Daroshi beat her to something she wanted.” Bryan shook his head. “Haya didn’t do this. I don’t care what Daroshi thinks.”
“Then… who?”
Bryan looked at Shawn. “That’s the real question, now isn’t it? That, and when is the next attack going to come.”
“Then you need to tell Daroshi and make him listen. I’ll even talk to Ziang and get him to—” Shawn jumped when the door to their room buzzed, signaling someone was entering.
Bryan motioned for Shawn to stop. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Gotcha.” Both Shawn and Bryan stood when the door opened.
Ziang entered first, Daroshi and Blayno behind him. Ziang went immediately to Shawn; his tentacles and both his hands reached for his mate. “I’ve missed you.”
Shawn grinned. “I can tell, E.T.”
Daroshi rolled his eyes as he stepped to Bryan. His gaze raked across Bryan, then he pulled his mate into his arms, holding Bryan close. “You’re pale. Are you okay?”
Bryan breathed a sigh of relief. Until Daroshi touched him, he hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. “Just tired. Are the both of you done here? Can we… Is this home? Do we stay here?” Bryan glanced up at Daroshi. “Or do you have other living quarters?”
Daroshi hugged Bryan tightly then stepped back. “Both Ziang and I have our own places outside the main city. Let’s leave this place, shall we?”
 More than willing. “Well, then, lead the way.”
 
TBC. Make sure to drop by the other Flashers!A.R. Von Victoria AdamsTali Spencer Nephylim Rob Colton Elyzabeth VaLey Cia Nordwell Andrew GordonJulie Lynn HayesShelly Shultz

My Sexy Saturday - To Touch the Sky

 Happy Saturday and welcome to My Sexy Saturday! For this hop you post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. It can be from a WIP or something published.
For this week, I thought I’d do something from a WIP, the next novel in A Leap of Faith series. It’s called To Touch the Sky. The main character is Chetan, a Native American red-tailed hawk shifter.  It’s still in early draft form, lol, and may be a little rough yet.
Enjoy! And don’t forget to visit the rest of Blog Hop!  
“Oh spirits,” Chetan whispered. He’d let his attention drift from his nephew and now… His own cries joined the madness as a monstrous bull darted from the stampede and charged Isi.
Several spears protruded from the maddened bull, but it didn’t slow the great beast down. The night was cool, and steam blew from its nose. The rank smell of the animal nearly gagged him. As reality slowed to a crawl, he saw Isi standing still, his hands by his side… doing nothing. Sound distorted and warped as Chetan yelled—his voice hopelessly lost in the pandemonium raging around him—for Isi to move, draw his bow… do something.
Chetan continued to yell, running toward the young brave, waving his arms frantically. If he could just get the bull’s attention… If he could just get to Isi’s side before… He saw a black cougar casing the buffalo, gaining rapidly. More cat shifters landed on the buffalo’s back and attacked, sinking their great canines into the animal. It still wasn’t enough. The bull was now a short distance from Isi and bearing down, the young warrior in its sights.
Oh Wha-tay, I’m not going to make it.His legs pumped, his breath wheezed… and it didn’t matter. Oh please, Great Mother, no. Not this young one. Please. It’s my fault. I let myself get distracted. Don’t let him… Take me, instead.
The black cougar raced besides the buffalo then darted in close as it latched on to the throat in an effort to suffocate the massive beast. The danger was immense; the buffalo would trample the black cougar if given the chance. The bull was too close and still Isi stood unmoving. Why is he just standing there?
There was no way, no way for him to get to Isi in time. Chetan stumbled to a stop and raised his bow, carefully taking aim. Please, please, let my aim be true. The arrow struck the buffalo dead in the face, but it was too late. It plowed into Isi with its mighty horns. Isi’s body flew high into the air, blood spurting form the terrible wounds in his body. A scream filled the air. Was that Isi? Isi’s mother? Or the bull?
“No. No!” Chetan’s own scream joined the ones around him.  

Welcome Vicy Cross

 
Ooooh we have something special for today! *evil grin* I have new author, Vicy Cross, here at Decadent Delights... and this is her first book. EVER!!! Y'all know what that means, right? We got ourselves a virgin! Whoot!

Okay, be gentle with her guys and please make her feel welcome. ;) We'll tell her about the chains and whips later lol.
~M

~ ~ ~



Hello everyone—thank you all for being here to pop my cherry! No, really. This is my first EVER guest blog post for my first EVER published novel. It is fitting we talk about virgins since the main character of my novel is a virgin nun (ha!) Unfortunately a lesbian tentacle monster pops her cherry, but I’m certain my first time with Decadent Delights won’t be as…um…bizarre.
So what is my erotic-horror novel, Tuesday Apocalypse, about? Well, there are sexy alien squids, handsome WWII soldiers, and lusty nuns…but what I’m really writing is about a reality that might have been. Horror and dystopian novels are great at stripping away the masks we wear. They ask the big questions and force us to think: “What If?” Fantasy and science fiction are popular genres for this reason. Even in erotica, there’s room for speculative fiction.
And yet I was warned by my beta-reader (who is a devout Catholic who graduated from the same Catholic school I did) not to push “too far” or probe “too deep” with this book. For the most part, I took her advice. Yes, some people might find the idea of eroticized nuns and closeted priests to be vulgar and offensive…but I hope those same people look beyond the sex to appreciate the larger question. What is more offensive? Repressing and persecuting others for their sexuality? Or is it better to allow people to live healthily as honest, sexual human beings? Of course I choose the latter, and I hope readers who read Tuesday Apocalypse agree on the same principle. J
Storm Moon Press just released my book last month, and I am so excited to make my debut as a real author! I’ve wanted to be an author my entire life. Thank you so much for hosting me at Decadent Delights! I hope you’ll have me again when my next book comes out! Blessed be and Namaste. J



Blurb:
In the war-weary year of 1940, just one rundown hospital survives London's collapse. Sister Barbara, a nun and volunteer nurse, inspires hope in her patients, but that faith is shaken when an unidentified aircraft explodes near the hospital. The half-eaten corpse beneath the mangled wreckage appears to corroborate the pilot's story that some sort of "tentacle-monster" attacked his plane. However, Sister Barbara pushes these dangers aside and plunges beyond the rubble when the man she loves disappears in the wastelands. 
She discovers a bloodstained beauty in his place—but the girl's outward innocence hides a voracious sexual appetite, and an even more disturbing secret. One by one, the terrified patients vanish from their beds. Titillating tentacles lick the hospital walls at night. And the dreams, always the dreams, drawing Sister Barbara deeper into a well of madness. She suspects she and the other women at the hospital are transforming into something... unholy. Sister Barbara knows she must figure out what before the evil in their midst consumes them all.


Excerpt:
In my dream, Mrs. Tuttle played the pipe organ in the cathedral. Her fingers assaulted the keys until the ivory was stained with blood. She played my favorite song, the hymn I sang to my mother before she died, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” However, in Mrs. Tuttle’s version, the music sounded macabre—almost as if the organ was wailing in protest, begging her to stop!
I remember Mrs. Tuttle’s crazed smile even as her fingers turned to pulp on the keys. She did not stop playing even when the organ groaned and made that dreadful sound.
The ceiling trembled from the violent music. The stained glass rattled in the windows; I clenched my teeth and, when the pipe organ shrieked louder, I shook with fright.
Somehow I knew Mrs. Tuttle was deliberately desecrating my mother’s memory with this     song. Then Robert was standing in the cathedral beside me. This time when he reached for my hand, I did not pull away. I was too distracted by Mrs. Tuttle and the vengeful organ to acknowledge his presence.
However, when Rob touched me, I gasped in pain. His skin felt so hot and angry! He seared my hand with his commanding caress and then drew me toward him before I could cry out in surprise.
I heard Mrs. Tuttle laugh hysterically above the thunderous music. The cathedral pulsed as if it had suddenly sprung to life! The old woman’s shrill cackling grated my eardrums and clogged my throat with panic.
I was reminded of my mother and the wilting violets I had placed on her nightstand. The delicate, blue petals shriveled, browned, and then dropped upon my mother’s pillow—killing her.
Rob wanted to keep me in his grasp, but, worried for my mother, I turned to shoot a desperate look over my shoulder.
To my horror, blood spilled from the organ, splattering onto the floor by Mrs. Tuttle’s feet. The old woman’s finger bones were just as white as the ivory keys she pounded on. She mashed her hands on the wounded organ and laughed like a demon. She seemed determined to destroy herself and the instrument.
The cathedral seemed to realize Mrs. Tuttle’s murderous intent, for the pipe organ suddenly rumbled with desperation and anger. The music sounded more violent than ever because I knew the organ was now fighting for its life!
I ran to stop Mrs. Tuttle and save the organ, but Rob yanked me back and tightened his grip around my arm. “You can’t save her, Sister Barbara,” he said. His fiery grasp burned my skin. “Look at me. Don’t ever pull away from me again.”
“But Robert—!” I cried, fighting back. I was so afraid!
Stained-glass windows shattered above our heads. The sharp glass studded the cathedral floor with a kaleidoscope of color while the organ bellowed and the ceiling thumped. But despite everything crumbling around us, only I seemed aware of it.
I tried to tell Rob about the organ and the glass beneath our feet, but he ignored me. His expression hardened and I couldn’t breathe when he reached forward and cupped my face in his hands.
Although he did this gently, his touch cauterized my skin. My heart leaped to my throat and I began to tremble.
He spoke just over a whisper. “Barbara…”
“Rob, I can’t,” I told him, my voice pleading, but he refused to hear me.
He brushed my mouth with the rough pad of his thumb and coaxed a dark moan from my lips. I was not even aware this deep, primal sound lurked in my own throat! And yet I could not stop myself from whimpering again when he caressed me.
“Barbara,” he said, repeating my name in that soft, intolerable way. I saw the quiet heat in his eyes and trembled much more violently.
 My heart slammed against my rib cage, so hard, I thought my bones would break. The glass shards reflected all the sweet, angelic faces plastered around the cathedral: saints, virgins, and cherubs. Always smiling, crosses and lances in hand.
Then a sharp, sudden pain stabbed my breast. Golden light flashed beneath my eyelids as the pain dulled, spreading warmth and euphoria throughout my entire body.
I whimpered with pleasure, closing my hands round the celestial staff that had impaled my heart!
I thought of the Transverberation of St. Teresa of Avila and the hungry seraph who had repeatedly thrust the very light of God into her body. She described the experience as being both a physical union of pain and ecstasy. I had not fully understood St. Teresa’s writings until that moment He penetrated me too! 
Liquid arousal scalded my thighs. When I opened my eyes, the golden light and the arrow disappeared, however my raw exhilaration did not. I realized my breathing had become short and erratic—I was blushing and I knew Rob could see it. I resisted the feverish impulse to press my body to his.
“I am a nun.” I spoke louder so he would hear me over the tormented organ. His face remained hard and unreadable, but he studied my mouth while he dragged his thumbnail across my bottom lip.  I whimpered again. The pain in my breast grew.
Temptation commanded my aching loins; the seed had already sprouted inside me. My eyelids fluttered. I faltered and tried to find my voice. “I… I made an eternal vow to Christ to remain celibate. I am a virgin. And I am old enough to be your mother!”
That last bit was not true, of course, but I said it anyway to discourage him.
Rob just laughed. His pale blue eyes reflected the dizzying colors from the gleaming glass. “You are lying and I will prove it,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. He swept me against his hips and held my chin so I could not avert my face. “Kiss me, Barbara.”
The command made me shiver with wicked delight. But how could I possibly kiss him? Even though I knew I was dreaming, I knew that kissing Rob would be a sin. Squirming, I begged him to release me.
Mrs. Tuttle sang in a sharp, sarcastic voice: “Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee!”
The rafters thumped in rhythm to the song and I thought the cathedral would collapse and crush us. Again I tried to warn Rob about the danger we were in, but he ignored my pleas. He slapped his hand over my buttocks and forced me to grind against him.
His erection teased my inner thigh. It felt so hot and thick that I began to moan. My sex lusted for it.
I don’t think Rob heard the ground quake beneath our feet. I don’t even think he was aware of Mrs. Tuttle’s singing to us. He just flung me against the wall and, placing his arms on either side of me, caged me there.
“Stop—we can’t... I can’t…” My knees went weak and I gasped, “Please, don’t…”
“You are lying to me again.” I shook my head, but he ignored this. “You want me. I know you do.” His eyes burned like two live coals. “I’m making you mine whether you agree to it or not.”
I knew Rob would overpower me, but I put up a half-hearted offense anyway. The sad truth is that I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to ravage me upon the brightly colored shards of glass, but I was also terrified.   Buy link: Via Amazon: http://t.co/2DSUmOc8DUVia Storm Moon Press (available in ebook and soft back): http://www.stormmoonpress.com/books/Tuesday-Apocalypse.aspx  Bio: Vicy Cross' obsession with weird began at an early age when she first devoured Edgar Allan Poe's, "The Tell-Tale Heart." Her love of gothic novels, geeky comic books, and literary fiction intensified until she graduated from college and decided to write creepy tales of her own. Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, and speculative fiction are Vicy's favorite indulgences, however she'll dabble in any genre where she can tell a good story. Vicy survives the Texas heat with plenty of iced tea and the loving, wet kisses from her dog and boyfriend. In addition to writing full-time, she is a veg*n political activist, hoodoo witch, and empath. Autobiographies embarrass her.  Twitter:@VicyCrossBlog: thevegetariancannibal.blogspot.com/Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/vicy.crossGoodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/14809017-vicy-cross

Wednesday Briefs - Nighttime Promises #8

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are: 
"Get on your bike and ride!"
or "Try peddling your papers somewhere else"
or "the ties that bind"
or have your character find out that someone they know is pregnant
or "ship of fools"
or use a broken condom
or use voyeurism or exhibitionism
or use a flogger or paddle
or have a character wear a pair of gloves and then explain why
or have a character with a banana fetish
or use: motorcycle, wings, tilt  This week I used a picture prompt. :)

 ~Nighttime Promises is the 3rd book in the Nighttime series, which is published by Romance First. I'm using the prompts to help me get going on this book. Yes, this is a tentacle story lol.
Fair warning! I'm going to pull this about 3/4th of the way through, expand it, and send it off. Most of the story will be shown on here though. I'm giving this warning so no one will be caught off guard when I pull the story.
 
Nighttime Promises #8
Bryan grinned, a wide smile crossing his face, his hands shaking a bit. They were going to see Daroshi’s planet.  It wasn’t everyday he saw a planet from space ship. And, this was where he was going to live now.  God only knew what kind of new animals and… just things in general he’d be learning about. “Well, let’s get that port window open then. I’d like to see the planet from space.”
Daroshi stepped toward a blanked-out screen and touched it at the bottom.
Shawn moved closer to Bryan. “It’s kinda scary, isn’t it? I mean, this is soon to be our home. Think about it, Bryan. We’re going to live on a new planet. A place most humans have never seen. Man, I bet there are several scientists that would give their left nuts to be…”
Shawn trailed off as the screen flickered, the blackness fading away to an equally dark view of space, but with a planet in the distance, the only object in sight.
Bryan blinked. “Hmmm.”
Shawn scratched his head. “Ah…”
Daroshi turned from the screen, pride evident on his face. “There it is… Maz’Rar. A proud and mighty planet. What do you think?”
Shawn glanced at Bryan. “Well, it’s big.”
Bryan blinked again as the view continued to shift, drawing closer. “Yeah, big. Very big.”
Shawn cleared his throat. “And, um… it’s round.”
Bryan nodded. “Yup, round.”
“And… it’s really gray. Lots and lots of gray.  Seems to be swirling all around the planet.”
Bryan swallowed. Lots and lots of gray? There’s nothing but gray. Just endless gray circulating in those strange swirls. Is that that the atmosphere? Can we even breathe that air? “Uh-huh, that’s the color gray, all right. No doubt about it.” Bryan glanced at Daroshi. “How long before we land?”
“Soon. I can’t wait to show you around. You won’t believe the advances in technology we have.”
Bryan nodded. “Looking forward to it.” And the first thing we might need to do is introduce these guys to food coloring. What the fuck is their problem with color? Jesus, that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t look anything like Earth.
Daroshi smiled at Bryan, then turned back to the port window. “I’m so glad to be home.”
Bryan looked at Shawn. Shawn slowly turned, checking to make sure Daroshi was engrossed with the view in front of him. Shawn glanced at Bryan and wrinkled his nose as though he’d smelled something gross.
Bryan pressed his lips closed and nodded. Oh yeah, I agree. Butt ugly describes that planet. Let’s hope it gets better.
 
IT didn’t. Two hours later, Bryan and Shawn were situated in another colorless room in a funky-designed building that housed the Council. The… building—that was the only word Bryan could think of that described where they were—was huge, with one side arrowing straight up to the sky until it came to a point.
The washed-out gray walls were covered in a dried leathery-looking material. Points along the walls were opaque and thin—a deep red light shone through and the walls seemed to pulse. It reminded Bryan of the interior of the space ship. The… material looked like the inner workings of a cell, like something you might see through a powerful microscope.
Creepy when you were surrounded by the stuff.
A fine, moist mist rolled across the floor of the room they stood in. The air was slightly humid, and warmer that what he was used to on the ship. Bryan’s first thought was the place wasn’t too inviting. There were a few low, dull brown backless benches in the room. Again. And again, they didn’t look comfortable—like slabs of concrete thrown together. It reminded him of Daroshi’s quarters on the ship… well, at least before he’d gotten a hold of the place. These aliens apparently had never heard of cushions.
The floor was a dull black; there were no rugs to soften the hardness. The walls of the room were just like those in every other place he’d seen. Whatever the cell-like material was, it was eerie and he hated it. Everything looked like dried leathery skin and… felt alien.
Shawn eased down on the hard bench. “Did you happen to notice any grass since we stepped foot on this damn planet?”
Bryan shrugged. He stood, staring at a globe of Earth. Wonder who put that there? “I was a bit distracted by the slaves running around. I knew about them but…” Bryan shook his head. “But no, I don’t think they have grass. Or trees, for that matter. Flowers, either. All I saw was rugged, desolate ground and buildings crammed close together. It kind of looks dirty here, you know? Not one strip of ground resembled anything that looked like grass. And the buildings were built funny. They all seem to point toward the sky. It’s just so… cold and industrial.”
“And the sky’s gray too. No sunlight whatsoever. Reminds me of what our skies look like when a storm’s coming.”
Bryan sighed loudly. “Yeah. Just ugly.”
“You said it. It’s all browns, grays, and blacks.” Shawn frowned at Bryan. “I hate it. Are you going to say anything to Daroshi?”
Bryan’s hands rubbed over his face. “What’s the point? We’re stuck here, Shawn. So why say anything? Did you see how Daroshi reacted when he first showed us the planet? He was so proud, man. Can you imagine? Proud of this ugly pile of—”
“I caught that too. It’s just… It’s not Earth, you know?”
Bryan finally sat. “I’ve done my time in the concrete jungle, Shawn. I hated every damn minute of living in the big city. All I wanted after I was shot was to come home, see the blue sky, smell fresh cut grass, see the stars in the nighttime skies… No, this isn’t Earth. And this is our home now, Shawn.”
“God help us.” TBC. Make sure to check out the other Briefers too!
A.R. Von Lily Sawyer Shelly Shultz Nephylim Cia Nordwell Tali Spencer Victoria AdamsElyzabeth VaLey Julie Lynn Hayes 

Welcome Lynn Crain

When Reality Takes Over Your Writing
Hi everyone!
First I really want to thank Michelle for allowing me to be on her blog. Not many people like to hear me yap…LOL!
I’m sure you’re wondering about my title. Well, my reality has taken over my writing…sort of. Yeah, I’m sure that makes a lot of sense but it is true in many ways.
I moved to Vienna, Austria with my dear husband of many years as he pursued his dream job in May 2011. It was only fair as he’d always let me pursue my writing and for the five years before we moved, had granted me the right to stay home to just write. By giving me such an amazing gift of time, I was able to write and sell over 14 different stories. It thrilled me to no end to be able to do nothing but write as it was my life-long dream come true. So when his opportunity came up, who was I to say no?
Yes, I’ll be the first to admit just how hard the move was on me. I hated it here and the people weren’t and still aren’t very friendly. I had left everything I’d known behind including my kids, grandkids and pets. I was alone and miserable for a while. Realizing I could be unhappy or I could work it to my advantage gave me a whole new perspective on where I lived. Eventually.
Writing about what you know is something we are all told as writers. I like what a NYT bestselling author told me once better: write what you could imagine. He was correct. I could imagine a wonderful Vienna, I could imagine things not being the way they were, I could imagine…well…I could imagine a lot. After all, I am a writer and imagination is my game.
After working it all out in my mind, I sat down one day and put down every imaginable story line I could come up with regarding Vienna. I now have an idea file of no less than 25 stories involving this European city. They run the gamut from romance to sci-fi to urban fantasy and they have fueled my imagination for months to come. My only hope is that all the research is done and on paper before I move from here in a couple of years.
The series of books I’m doing, A Taste of Vienna, all have to do with experiences, or perceived experiences, I’ve had here. The reason I say perceived is that there are a couple of ghost stories and possible time travel in the mix as well. Suffice it to say, I’ve told my husband more than once the flat we live in has a ghost. For some reason, he doesn’t really believe me.
The first book is a Christmas book and takes a look at what it’s like to be here during the holiday season. I worked in pertinent information about the area while keeping the romance fresh and inviting. While doing this book, I discovered that the holiday season is my favorite in Vienna. I love the snow, the Christkindlemarkts and everything about it.
The second book in the series, Night Train slated for release in October, is about my experience taking a night train to Rome over the week between Christmas and New Year. When I described that experience to a friend, I immediately came up with the tag line: A dog, a kid and a man she doesn’t know – how much more romantic can it be?
And it was true in oh so many ways when I compared it to what really happened. Our compartment on the train to Rome was supposed to be ours alone. We had myself, my husband, our youngest who was 19 at the time, our 5 month old puppy and we were all set to go. At our first stop, a man who we didn’t know popped in and said he’d purchased the last berth in our compartment. I was floored. How could it happen? Why did it happen? When we talked to the conductor, he apologized but told us the man stayed as he had purchased the ticket from a different group than the train company. Suddenly, our family vacation wasn’t just us any more but included someone we didn’t know.
While we had a wonderful time overall, the travel experience was new and different for us. I filed it all away and until I talked to my friend, the story hadn’t formulated in my mind. The fact was I could take my reality, twist it and come up with some wonderful story ideas.
More thinking lead to the realization that it was true: my reality had taken over my writing. But in a very good way. I was feeling before as if my story lines were stale, that writing had become a chore as I wrote the same things over and over. My moment of not seeing the forest for the trees was happening and I didn’t know how to overcome it.
The breath of fresh air I needed was to look at my reality, to see what I was actually experiencing and make it work for me and my writing. Can any writer ask for more? We can’t because we look for opportunity. And when it comes knocking as part of your own life, use it to your advantage because you may never get a better offer.
So, yeah, my reality has taken over my writing but in such a good way. I’m not going to complain, I’m just going to go with the flow as they say, and write some great fiction about my life in Europe. Hope your reality allows you to do the same.   Title: A Viennese Christmas  A Taste of Vienna Book 1    Word Count: approximately 19K   Theme: The heart knows the language of love.   Long Logline: Amanda Kranz comes to Vienna, Austria for a job, only to find herself alone at Christmas when she meets sexy historian Henry Jager, who convinces her true love is real and within her grasp.   Short Logline: Amanda Kranz, alone in Vienna, Austria at Christmas, meets sexy, historian Henry Jager, who convinces her true love is real and within her grasp.   Blurb/Premise: Sign language interpreter, Amanda Kranz, wants to find her soul mate but fears her chance has past due to the death of her childhood sweetheart. Finding sexy historian Henry Jager during an outing in her new home of Vienna, Austria, may have been a stroke of luck. When his ex-fiancée shows up just as their relationship starts to sizzle, Amanda must decide if standing up for what she really wants will give her lifetime happiness. Or will she be destined to spend her life alone?   ExcerptHer disappointment must have been plain on her face as she found herself suddenly gazing into the greenest eyes in a very handsome male face. A question in German followed as she tried to ascertain just what he said. “I’m sorry,” she stated, her confusion obvious. “I’ve only picked up a word or two since I’ve been here. Do you speak English?” “You’re American?” he questioned without the accent most Austrians possessed. “Don’t make it sound like such a curse. There are a lot of us, you know.” Her indignation evident in her tone. His rich laughter filled the space, warming her to her bones in ways she hadn’t expected. “Sorry. I guess one does pick up the attitudes of where they live.” She looked at him puzzled. “That’s that supposed to mean?” “Henry Jager, American, at your service ma’am.” His sweeping bow brought a smile to her lips. “Amanda Kranz and I hardly think I qualify as a ma’am.” She stuck her hand toward him. His firm grasp sent an electric sensation as she felt the spark deep within her. She swore he felt it too as his eyes darkened. “Do you prefer Amanda or Mandi? I know there’s not much of a choice with Henry.” His serious gaze spot of his interest. Laughter bubbled up in her, the first such emotion in weeks. “Henry is a fine, strong name. And it doesn’t matter much with mine.” His hot look made her want to shiver in anticipation of what she could only speculate. “Really? I would have thought your business associates would call you Amanda. Now your intimate contacts I expect call you Mandi.” She gazed at him. Intimate contacts, now there was a misnomer. It had been years since she’d had any intimate contacts of the male persuasion. “Sounds good to me.” “You gave in too easy.” He reluctantly let go of her hand as his look took on a more serious aspect. “Are you meeting someone?” She shook her head. “No one to meet.” “Good.” He grabbed her hand again, placing it in the crook of his arm. “Have you ever been to one of these before?” Henry expertly meandered around people, baby carriages and more as he led her to the next booth. “Not really. I saw them last year but being so new to the city, I couldn’t bring myself to go to one alone.” She gazed at the Rathaus beyond them, remembering how intimidated she’d been by building even though it had a Christmas tree in front. His eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re still a relative newcomer.” “I suppose so. I got here in November of last year.” “Ah – your impression?” His brows lifted when he drew back as if to study her face. “Very commercialized. I expected something more – ” she struggled to find the right word. “– more homey, more authentic – more Austrian.” Henry gazed around a moment before looking back at her. “I see your point. This is probably the one Christkindlemarkt that’s got the least to offer in specialized, authentic goods in my opinion except it does have a certain ambiance. And of course, there’s the skating rink as well as the park decorations.” Her brow arched in amazement. She really hadn’t expected anyone to agree with her. All the women she knew gushed over every one of them. “You agree with me?” His naughty smile was breathtaking. “Most definitely. This is the one where most of the tourists come. While there are some very Austrian things here hidden amongst the drivel, most are not unique or special in any way.” “My thoughts exactly. Where exactly does one find more traditional items?” Astonishment spread through her. She had not once heard anyone say a negative comment about Vienna. All her colleagues gushed over the city but as far as she was concerned, it was just another place to live. They stopped in front of a food booth, the aroma tantalizing. “Would you like something hot to drink?” The brisk breeze nipped at her cheeks and she felt the cold through her coat. She definitely could use something to warm her up. “Sure.”    Synopsis             NOTE: This is a SHORT STORY with adult situations.   Tags             Sweet romance, Foreign Romance, Vienna Austria, Christmas, Holidays   ISBNs & Page Counts 4 Different Formats             PDF PROMO – ISBN13:  978-1-62052-008-6; 92 pages; word count 19223             PDF – ISBN13:978-1-62052-009-3; 92 pages; word count 19223 for ARe & the rest             Smashwords – ISBN: 978-1-62052-0116; xx pages; 18774 word count             All Others – ISBN: 978-1-62052-010-9; 60 pages; 19223 word count    

   BIO:www.awriterinvienna.blogspot.com) and various other places on the net (www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com; www.twitter.com/oddlynn3; www.lynncrain.blogspot.com). Still, the thing she loves most of all is hearing from her readers at lynncrain@cox.net.     PURCHASE Links: All Romance eBooks ~ https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-aviennesechristmas-1031953-149.html Amazon US ~ http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon UK ~ https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon DE ~ http://www.amazon.de/Viennese-Christmas-Taste-Vienna-ebook/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon FR ~ https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon ES ~ https://www.amazon.es/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon JP ~ http://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon CA ~ https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00BBFDLOK Amazon IT ~ https://www.amazon.it/dp/B00BBFDLOK Barnes and Noble ~ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-viennese-christmas-lynn-crain/1114313180?ean=2940016221441 iTunes ~ pending Kobo ~ http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/A-Viennese-Christmas/book-KLxTdvUwEkukzOyG93F9yA/page1.html Smashwords ~ https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/282513   Where Lynn Is: www.lynncrain.com lynncrain.blogspot.com awriterinvienna.blogspot.com http://throughheartshapedglasses.com/ www.theloglineblog.blogspot.com http://lynncrain.livejournal.com/ http://www.myspace.com/lynncrain http://groups.yahoo.com/group/XtraOrdinaryRomance/ http://www.twitter.com/oddlynn3 http://www.facebook.com/oddlynn3 https://www.facebook.com/groups/xtraordinaryromance/ http://www.youtube.com/lynncrain http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/684863.Lynn_Crain https://www.amazon.com/author/lynncrain  

Welcome Marc Jarrod!

   To Bi or Not to Biby Marc Jarrod www.extasybooks.com   Blurb:   They say we all have gay feelings deep inside, but for most of us those feelings never surface. Will Crown, amateur stage actor, is about to put that theory to the supreme test with the help of good friend and fellow actor, Adam Jester, who harbors his own secret—he’s in love with Will.
Whether it’s timing or simply an inevitable turn of events, the two men expose and act on their dark secrets knowing their lives will never be the same. Can Will embrace his newfound sexuality or regret his decision—and, will he reciprocate his roommate’s love? 
Excerpt: Will liked to pass that time by watching adult videos. Though he’d had his share of the dating game along with unsatisfactory sexual liaisons, he still liked to sit back and watch videos of hot sex.

At the store, Will perused the aisles of DVDs, the movies ranging from mainstream, through hard core, male-female sex to extreme BDSM to foot fetish magazines and videos. He went further into the back where he knew the store displayed a certain genre, one he returned to repeatedly. His heart rate increased as he went deeper into the well-packed shop. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was searching for. He purchased a quickly sought-out DVD then returned home. The anticipation of a couple of hours of solo sex had his hands shaking as he neared the house.

When he got home, he turned on the TV, pushed the DVD in the player and sat on the couch. The movie credits scrolled down. Seconds later, the first scene showed a well-built blond guy on his knees. The camera zoomed in, quickly focusing on just his lips sliding up and down a huge, erect cock. The wet slickness covering the shaft along with the deep guttural grunts coming from both men turned Will on like nothing else ever did.

Oh, yeah, this is a great way to start the film .

Will’s dick was already thickening in his pants, begging to get out. The camera moved back, the man’s face coming into view, the lips stretched tight around and nipping at the engorged cock. As the camera panned back even further, Will saw another male undressing. That one was tall, slender and had dark, wavy hair. He looked like he spent all of his spare time working out at the gym.

Will unfastened his jeans and reached inside. With a little effort plus a curse or two, he managed to liberate his cock and stroke it. While the trio in the movie got down to a hotter than hot scene in which the blond dude on his knees got fucked by the hunky newcomer and gave the most amazing blowjob to the guy standing in front of him, Will gaped and stroked his dick more rapidly.

He loved these movies and kept a ready stash of them in a locked container under his bed. More than once, he’d wondered if he wasn’t at least bisexual—not gay, mind you. He wasn’t ready to go there in any way, shape, or form. He’d also wondered, numerous times, what it would feel like to have a man suck him off.

Watching those scenes, the oral sex scenes, was a tremendous turn-on. He figured it didn’t much matter if it was a man or woman doing the sucking. Presently his cock was in full agreement. He was at full mast, but his dick seemed to grow even thicker as the scenes played out.

After stroking himself for a good ten minutes, Will was ready to explode. He fought the urge, straining to anticipate the exact moment when the actors would have their respective orgasms so they could all come together.

His butt clenched, his balls shifted in tight to his body—but something distracted him and tore the impending bliss away.

Through his peripheral vision, Will caught movement in the next room. Panic filled him. A deep frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. It had to be Adam! But what was he doing home? It was one o’clock in the afternoon.

Will Crown loves to watch gay videos but swears he isn’t gay…but is he?

They say we all have gay feelings deep inside, but for most of us those feelings never surface. Will Crown, amateur stage actor, is about to put that theory to the supreme test with the help of good friend and fellow actor, Adam Jester, who harbors his own secret—he’s in love with Will.
Whether it’s timing or simply an inevitable turn of events, the two men expose and act on their dark secrets knowing their lives will never be the same. Can Will embrace his newfound sexuality or regret his decision—and, will he reciprocate his roommate’s love?  Bio: Born in Italy and coming to America when he was six years old, Marc Jarrod now lives in St. Louis Missouri. By day, he works for a major delivery company. During his leisure time, when he is not working or writing, he spends time with his family, which consists of his wife and two cats. He is an avid fan of professional sports especially, baseball, hockey and football. He is also a trivia buff and you just might catch him at a trivia tournament in your area.
Marc has been writing for the last four years.

   Where To Find Marc:  Twitter: @marcjarrod Blog space: http://mjarrod.blogspot.com