Caitlin Ricci's Blog, page 4

Christmas Blog Hop

At the end of this post make sure you leave a comment with your name and email address. I'll be picking a few lucky people to win copies of my brand new book, The Little Crow. 
This is my first year in a long time where I won't be working any of the holidays. I became a full time author in October so I'm actually looking forward to the holidays this year. For the past ten years I've been in the medical field and since I don't have kids I was always the one who worked Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Years Day and any other holiday people told me that I had to. Plus my birthday is a few days before so while I got extra money for working the holidays, I never really got to enjoy them. 
This year I get to and I can't wait. I'm looking forward to seeing that first snow in December and having hot chocolate while I watch my dog jump through the snow drifts. We've already had snow here in Colorado but there's just something different about it being in December. Les Mes is coming out too and I'm going out with a lot of friends to see it for my birthday. 
My fiance has a big family, something I never experienced until I met him, so holidays are crazy at his mom's house but I enjoy being surrounded by that many people. There's even a brand new baby to hold and pass around. He's pretty cute and finally getting out of that scary newborn age where I was afraid to hold him. Now he's just this big chunky cute thing that can hold his head up and makes spit bubbles. Every time I see him I want one of my own. Then thankfully I come back to my senses when we head home. Oh, I still want one. Just not quite yet. 
Now here's a peak at my new book, The Little Crow. It's available at Amazon, All Romance E-books and Smashwords. Soon to be at B&N as well. 


Detective Jamison Landry knew his job was never going to be easy. He’s dealt with the worst criminals imaginable and believes in his work and the community he serves. But he’s never met someone like Mal before. The mysterious man keeps him guessing, both confuses and excites him and Jamison isn’t sure how he feels about him. Things turn from unusual to downright strange when people start insisting Mal isn’t quite human. And Jamison’s creepy dreams of crows and graveyards don’t make things any better for him. Will Mal stay around long enough for Jamison to figure out his secrets or will this stranger leave him wanting more?



Detective Jamison Landry crept quietly through the ransacked house on Lightwood Terrace. The smell of incense was thick in the air and he had to consciously hold his breath to keep from choking on the sweet stench. Behind him he heard the other members of his team struggling with it as well. They’d been sitting on the house for weeks and finally had the search warrant to go in and seize what Jamison was sure would be a large cache of illegal drugs hidden somewhere in the nineteen fifties ranch style house. 
The dirty linoleum creaked under his boots as he and the team moved into the kitchen. Surveillance had told him that the upper portion of the house was hardly ever used and that the people taking up residence in what had at one time been a nice home spent much of their time in the basement. He hated basements, hated that feeling of being exposed and bottle necked as he went down the stairs to invade people in their holes. But when no one had come to the door after he’d banged, yelling that they had a search warrant and would be coming in, he had gotten a sick feeling that their search would lead to this. 
His gaze caught on an occult symbol in front of the closed basement door, nothing that he was familiar with but the dark rust stain was something he was more than acquainted with, and not by choice. The blood was old; the stain clear on the floor even after he’d scuffed it with his boot. Around him the team seemed anxious, some even bouncing on the balls of their feet as he slowly pulled the door open. 
Remember to leave a comment with your name and email for a chance to win this book. Also, it's a blog hop so make sure to visit everyone else for some awesome prizes. 

Everyone please welcome Michael Mandrake!

What is the TRUE meaning of Love?Michael Mandrake
Good morning and thank you for having me here today.
*sits down on couch*
My blog post is about love and not just any love, true love. The kinds that makes one all warm inside, makes them forget things, and act kind of silly in front of their significant others; the kind that’s everlasting and doesn’t discriminate.
In the dictionary, love is defined as a profoundly tender affection for another person. It goes on to say, a warm personal attachment to a child or relative or sexual desire for another individual.
When talking about relationships, notice it doesn’t say anything about gender, race, or age. Again, love doesn’t happen to people who are similar every time, neither does it occur in the couple sense. It’s very possible for one to fall in love with several persons even if others don’t consider it reality. In the big scheme of things, love can be had by anyone.
So in continuing with my theme, what is TRUE love? Well, I’ve answered it. When you feel truly in love with someone, you look over differences, their faults and or imperfections. You don’t allow the outside world to dictate what your relationship with that person is. True love is blind. When it happens, it can be a mind blowing experience, something that brings enjoyment to all parties involved. The minute you find the right person(s) that give you the most pleasure to be around, you tend to stick with those people.
Does it fail? At times yes. Are there problems in that union? Certainly, but the honesty comes with the tension and how everyone handles it. Will the emotions you have for one another move you to compromise with problems arise? In a true love situation, it will and most of the time, you’ll see it through until the end.

When writing my book, True Meaning of Love, I thought about my couple London  Davies and Brandon McFerry who’d been in a relationship for several years. After having a disagreement before heading off to work, something unfortunate occurs that tests their feelings for one another.
Now with the sequel, True Meaning of Love 2, you see more of their story in a complete form. From the beginning when they first met until the end when they proclaim undying love for one another, my warm and fuzzy romance is my longest book to date and the most emotional.
Although fellow muse Rawiya is the one who usually releases the touchy feely, books, my characters in True Meaning beg for it.
If you haven’t checked out the 2 books, I hope you will after this blog post. Thanks for listening to me babble today.
Amazon Smashwords
All Romance
Blurb: Over fifty doesn’t mean too old to find love
London Davies desires a man to take care of and despite the advances of his former lover and partner James, he pushes on to search for another to make him turn in his bachelor badge.
Brandon McFerry has been abused and scarred for the duration of his life. His only saving grace is his talent with the paintbrush. Although he hasn’t made his big break in the industry, he pushes on in hopes that one of his paintings will capture the attention of his obsession: London Davies
This is a romance. The kind that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside with some hot smexy sex thrown in. An emotional story between two men of different backgrounds searching for the same happy ever after ending!

Here is an Excerpt!
Brandon and London sat on the couch together as the artist spoke at length about the methods he’d used during the creation of the painting. To Brandon, the object of his desire seemed very interested in everything he’d said. He hoped he didn’t bore him with his babbling. The last thing he wanted to do was make the man tire of him too quickly.London poured some more of the Cristal into both glasses. He handed the flute back to Brandon. They’d finished half the bottle but for whatever reason, Brandon still felt nervous. He took it and tried his best not to spill it, his hand trembling slightly. “Um thank you.” He sipped a little from the glass.“You’re welcome.” London lightly smacked Brandon on his kneecap. “Love, chill out, yeah? We’re here just having drinks. Relax.”Brandon nodded and lay back against the cushions. How could he relax knowing he sat beside the man of his dreams? He took a whiff of London’s manly scent. A mixture of cologne and after-shave, as strong as he’d expected. When it infiltrated his nostrils, he felt himself hardening under the slacks. The goose bumps became rocks on his flesh. He was perspiring a little; he hoped his desired one wouldn’t notice. “I’m tryin’, it’s just...” Brandon bit his lip and set the glass on the coffee table in front of him. “Well, I’ve admired you for such a long time, London, and I... This is really a thrill for me.”London chuckled and moved closer to Brandon. He took the artist’s palm into his. “I get that, but I’m just a man, like any other. I don’t walk on water. No second coming here, love.”To Brandon McFerry, he did. London had captivated him for years and now his dreams about being on this sofa with him in private had come true. Deep down he wished he could take London into his arms and kiss him feverishly. He’d envisioned a moment like that too, but he refrained. They had just met. “I know,” he sighed and placed a hand on top of London’s. “Tell me. You really like the painting?”“I do.” London placed an arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “In fact, it resembles a work of art I have at home. I’d love to take you there to see it tonight.”Brandon looked at the owner with widened eyes.Did he just say...?Brandon thought he just heard London say he wanted him to see a painting he had back at his house.Could it be? Could the man he’d seemingly desired forever be in possession of a work of art that belonged to him? “I… um.” He swallowed hard. “You want me to accompany you home, tonight?”London held onto him a little tighter. “Yes, I, I hope that isn’t too forward, it’s just... I really do like you and I’d love to see if that painting is yours. Forgive me for moving too quickly but...”“No, no, not at all I’m just a bit taken aback by this. I’d love to go, though.”“Good. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to be my date for the rest of the evening. If it weren’t opening night, I’d certainly just ask James to take over but, since it’s a big event…”“Yes, yes, I understand. I have no issue with staying here late with you.”He really didn’t. There was nowhere he’d rather be than here with London and to him, the owner wasn’t moving too fast at all. Just right in his eyes.“Great, now.” London poured the last two glasses of the expensive beverage. “Let’s finish this off, shall we? Then we’ll go out amongst the people.”Damn.Seeing London pour yet another glass of the champagne made Brandon wince. Truthfully, he’d already felt the effects after two glasses coming on quickly and he wished he didn’t have to drink anymore. However, he wondered if he refused London would that upset him. He took the glass. “Thank you very much.”“And thank you again for the painting as well as your presence this night.” London toasted with Brandon, clinking their glasses together, before he drank the contents.The painter nodded and did the same, hoping he’d be able to stay up for the duration of this evening.I have to make a good impression on him if I want a chance at being part of his life.Once they’d finished drinking the expensive bubbly, London led Brandon by the hand, back out to the main area. The hold London had on Brandon made his head swim, along with the wine.He just couldn’t believe this. Him, Brandon McFerry, on the arm of London Davies, powerful businessman and owner of the new club, Fantasia. Many of his friends, especially Tyler, had told him to not get so wrapped up in this man, but how could he not? Even though he didn’t know much about the man, he’d long ago fallen in love with him from afar, and the fact that London expressed some interest in him made him happier that he’d never given up his dream of meeting him. 
BIO: Michael Mandrake is the gay male muse of author Sharita Lira who enjoys writing stories of everyday men in love in regular settings as well as extraordinary. Michael’s latest book True Meaning of Love is a self pubbed publication now available at Amazon and other online retailers. Please visit A Gay Man in a Females Bodyfor more info.

Pack Business is now available for pre-order!

I am very happy to announce that Pack Business, the second book in my Pine Hollow Wolves series, is now available for pre-order through Silver Publishing!

Pre-Order now from Silver Publishing

Division lines are drawn when Hannah’s unusual gift creates panic within the pack. Liam has to choose between his pack and his new family, and the choice he makes could have deadly consequences for the ones he loves. A confrontation for Travis will alter his and Hannah’s lives forever and he’ll have to make his own choices for the future of all he holds dear.

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Winner of the Black Friday Blog Hop

Erica Pike won a copy of my new book, The Little Crow. Thank you everyone for visiting during the hop!

Black Friday Blog Hop!

Welcome to the Black Friday blog hop! Thanks for stopping by :). Make sure to leave a comment with your name and email address to this post to be entered into a drawing to win a copy of my new ebook. Also, posting here will enter you into a chance to win one of the grand prizes listed below. 
I'm one of the people that doesn't like shopping on black Friday. But then again, I really don't ever like to go shopping. I don't like crowds and I tried it last year and hated all the hassle and being surrounded by all the pushy people. So this year my fiance and I are staying in, though I have been looking at Amazon's black Friday deals. I can stay in my pjs for this kind of shopping. Plus there's no lines or waiting to deal with. So tomorrow I'm going to sleep in early and then join my best friend (aka my co-author and cover artist) Tabatha Heart for coffee and an intense writing session. We've both got projects to get done so we'll be pushing each other to get these books done. 
Have a great day everyone and stay safe!


My new book, The Little Crow, comes out Friday, November 30. It's M/M Paranormal Erotic Romance and will be available on Amazon, All Romance E-books and Smashwords among other online e-book retailers. 
Now, make sure to leave a comment with your email! 













Please leave a comment, with your email address, for a chance to win my prize, an ebook copy of my new book- The Little Crow. You’ll also be entered to win the three grand prizes below. 

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet (International)
2nd Grand Prize: A $75 Amazon or B&N Gift Card (International)
3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!(US Only)Thanks for stopping by. There are over 200 authors participating, and offering their own prizes, so please make sure to visit them. Enjoy the rest of the hop and Black Friday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

If you're in the US you've probably heard this a lot already today, but Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm going to be in the black Friday blog hop tomorrow so be sure to stop by after you get done with all your shopping. One lucky commenter will win a copy of my new book The Little Crow which comes out next Friday.

You might have noticed that I've had a lot of guests hanging out with me on the blog lately. I love having guests over. I get to make friends, hear about new books to get and don't have to come up with things to post myself :). If you're a blogger, reader, or just want to have an outlet- send me an email at authorcaitlinricci@gmail.com. My only rule is that I don't allow bullying or negativity toward a population or any illegal activity on my blog. Other than that, you've got free reign to have fun.

See you all tomorrow!

I'd like to welcome T.A. Webb to come talk his new book, Second Chances

T.A. Webb




















Mark Jennings is at a crossroads. His finance job in the Atlanta nonprofit scene stresses him out, his mother is dying, and his relationship with Brian Jacobs has crashed and burned. He needs a distraction, some way to relax, and a massage seems like just the thing. He never expected his massage therapist, Antonio Roberto, to become his best friend.

Despite their differences—Antonio is a divorced single father—the two men forge a firm friendship that weathers Mark’s reconciliation with Brian and Antonio’s questionable taste in women. Over the years, Antonio remains constant in his support, though others in Mark’s life come and go through a revolving door.

When a young boy runs away from the group home where he works, Mark finds another door opening. Through it all he holds on to the things his loved ones taught him—about family, about friends and lovers, about life and death. Most importantly, he realizes that sometimes the greatest gift of all is a second chance.

"Second Chances” came out on October 17th from Dreamspinner.





Second Chances – Excerpt

I wondered if praying that she wouldn’t pull out of this episode made me a terrible son. I didn’t dare breathe a word of that to anybody, but fuck it, I could stand here and by God take a minute to suffer and let my heart bleed in private. Pull all the jagged pieces of my soul together and cobble them into something resembling the man everybody knew as Mark Jennings before I had to go in and be him.

But after a few minutes and a few more deep breaths, I pulled it together. Took the piece of me that was the good son, attached it to the responsible work Mark, the peacemaker brother, the single gay man pieces. Looked at all the parts tiredly, and once they fit into something that approached a whole man, I slipped back into my skin. I took a deep breath and opened the door to Mom’s room.

Dad was there. It may have been too early for any of my brothers and sisters, but that was almost a relief. Today it would be nice just to have some time with him while I still felt so tired and raw.

“It’s good to see you, son.” He hugged me and eyed the sack I brought in from Huey’s. He loved the beignets and the muffaletta sandwiches I’d gotten into the habit of picking up for our dinner.

I handed him the bag. “You too, Dad. Looks like everything’s about the same here, huh? Thought I’d come and keep you company.”

“But I know you’re tired. I told you to go home after work and I’d call you if anything changed,” he fussed as he dug around in the bag.

“Just hush and eat. Where is everybody?” I plopped down in a chair and kicked my shoes off. I’d been at this damn hospital enough to know how to make myself comfortable.

“You’re it right now.” He plowed into the food like a hungry bear, and I knew he’d probably skipped lunch to sit with her. Again. “Patty was here earlier, and Robert. Said he and Jennifer’d be back tonight. The doctor was in today, said she may wake up tomorrow some time.”

I didn’t want to talk about that right now. More than anything, that subject threatened the fragile internal balance I’d forged, so we talked about little crap. What my day’d been like. What had to be done around the house when he made it back there.

But we also slid in some of the more important things, too. How was he holding up. Was I okay. Had I heard from Brian. Things he would share with me, the responsible son. My brothers and sisters, while I loved them, always made everything such fucking drama, and found reasons to let me handle the hard things. You know, since I didn’t have kids and a wife, or a husband, or a boyfriend. At least that’s what Brenda and Sam and Linda thought. Robert and Patti, at least, pitched in as best they could.

But it was also our way to ignore the big things without telling each other to fuck off.


You can purchase Second Chances at:
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Second-Chances-ebook/dp/B009S3BFSG/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1351124580&sr=1-2
Dreamspinner http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3314
ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-secondchances-975691-145.html
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/second-chances-ta-webb/1113515783?ean=9781623800321


T. A. Webb is the writing name for the Mean Old Bear That Could. By day, he’s the director of finance for a non-profit agency. He’s worked with people living with HIV/AIDS and with children in the foster care system for over twenty years, and takes the smaller pay for the chance to make a difference for those who can’t help themselves. After hours, he’s the proud single papa of four rescue dogs, was born and raised in Atlanta, where he still lives, and is a pretty darned good country cook.


His sister taught him to read when he was four, and he tore his way through the local library over the next few years. Always wanting more, he snuck a copy of The Exorcist under his parents’ house to read when he was eleven and scared the bejesus out of himself. Thus began a love affair with books that skirt the edge, and when he discovered gay literature, he was hooked for life.

T. A. can be found at Facebook under AuthorTAWebb, tweeted at #TomBearAtl, or if you really want to, you can email him at AuthorTAWebb@aol.com.

The Little Crow

Coming next week- The Little Crow!


You might remember a while back that I wrote a free short called The Little Crow. Well, now this short has been expanded into a full story and will be coming out next week. Tabatha Heart did the cover art and I am so in love with it. This story is paranormal and I'm really proud of how it has come out and hopefully you all like it too. I'll have a blurb and excerpt for you later this week so make sure to come back and check it out. 

Cheyenne Meadows is here talking about Sky's Lark!

Thank you, Caitlin, for allowing me to visit.

Here’s more about my latest release from Silver Publishing:

Meet the only female member of the Wind Warriors. Sky’s Lark is here!



When a previous mission comes back to haunt Lark, the sole woman on the Wind Warriors team, she scurries to identify a mole while staying one step ahead of the drug cartel after the
bounty on her head.

Bryce, aka Sky, an undercover cop, infiltrates a drug gang in search of a high ranking traitor. Kissing her on a dare, he quickly develops a protective streak for the pretty and spirited Lark. Leaving her warning notes works fine until her identity is breached, sending them both on the run.

Can they learn to trust one another as bad guys rain down upon them? Will Lark finally discover the man of her dreams buried underneath Bryce's deceptive role?

Available at:

Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Skys-Lark-Wind- Warriors-ebook/dp/B00A4HQLP2/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352827799&sr=1-2

Silver Publishing:
https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/ new-release-c-1/products_id/1243/zenid=1271ccc5e239a0be06d87f5161b712bb

Coming soon to Barnes and Noble!

S.A. Garcia is on my blog today talking about her new book!

NaNoWriMo and Ascending the Stairs of Cirith Ungol
Remember the Stairs of Cirith Ungol from “Return of the King?” This Tolkien geek adores how Peter Jackson portrays the stairs onscreen: steep, dark and menacing, certainly no stairway to heaven but instead a stairway to utter hopeless and death via a large, nasty spider. When our heroes followed treacherous Gollum up the stairs, they didn’t know what the hell to expect.
Am I getting at something by rambling about “Lord of the Rings”? Did anyone else equate the Steps of Cirith Ungol with National November Writing Month, better known as NaNoWriMo?
Anyone? Bueller?
Time to lower my hand and blush. Ouch, I panicked over writing 50,000 words in a month before I left the Shire’s security. Me finish that many words in a month? Ha! I’d never written so much in a month. What made me think I could perform a miracle this time?
All writers approach NaNoWriMo differently. The sleek writing greyhounds sprint from the cliché gate. They create great reams of words and finish their 50,000 words before the middle of the month. They probably fall over heaving before sprinting off to something new.
I used to wonder about writing greyhounds. After having met a few, I discovered they aren’t mythical. Some people haul words from their mental well in alarming speed. There’s a talent I’ll never achieve.
Other NaNoWriMo divas procrastinate until they start typing in a mad dash a week away from the end. What a gamble. Too much chance to miss a step.
After thousands of words, other NaNoWriMo word warriors suffer nasty paralysis. They decide blam, they have failed. The Steps of Cirith Ungol defeats them. They gather their words and climb down.
Then there’s my category. I fall into the “Crap, I’m Inconsistent to a Fault” school of writing, not a plus when traveling into the dreaded NaNoWriMo mindset.
Let me digress. Please, really, I need to sit on this handy bench-shaped rock to ponder my problem. My normal writing style bounces over the damned place. One day I eek out ten words, while another day brings 1,000 words. The trouble is the 1,000 word days have vanished. This dilemma scares the wild blueberry muffins out of me. Why does my pace wither on the cliché writing vine? Do I lose interest? No, not really; ideas still buzz around in great force.
Does something distract me? At this point, everything distracts me from keeping my mind in a story. Why? I hate admitting this, but a dangerous similarity has crept into certain WIP characters. My characters resemble each other. Trust me, this is as dangerous as sticking your head in an alligator pond. Well, not as bad, but ruining my character’s unique voice is lethal to my writing. I create idiosyncratic characters. They are not heroes. Fine specimens displaying heroic physical build and bravery seldom stumble into my books. When they do crash into the storyline, they arrive bearing serious imperfections. My characters need to have their special, weird flaws that make me love them and make some readers hate them.
Which brings me back to NaNoWriMo. Would braving the Stairs of Cirith Ungol help me re-connect with the unique edge desperately needed for my new characters? Can I sound a little more dramatic? Trust me, I can, oh yes indeed. I can spin purple prose like a randy old whore.
As of today, November 16, I am pleased, thrilled and, frankly, stunned to report I have reached the 39,000 word mark. 39,000 decent words, not a random jumble; words supported by fact-checking, solid location research, and logic. I correct obvious typos as I plod along, but my typing sucks, which leads to hilarious word misusage. During my first edit, I will find plenty of “ed”’s instead of an “s”. The sneaky skipped words will try to evade my notice. Pesky cracks requiring detail and atmosphere await filling.
Here’s the faaaabulous news: to my delight, my characters’ unique temperaments develop in merry mayhem. My boxer-clad, spike-heel waving diva just chased a threatening villain across a lawn. He borrowed the red shoe weapon from his drag queen boyfriend. Their relationship is shaping up in a goofy, romantic manner and that, kittens, makes me want to plow ahead and finish this novel. This time my eccentric men do not fail me. Their drama requires more than 50,000 words.
The revelation makes this plodder extremely happy!
NaNoWriMo taught me ascending the Stairs of Cirith Ungol in willy-nilly fashion isn’t for me. Plodding up, each foot placed securely before I push up to the next, is the way for me to go. I am a plodder, not a sprinter, although one epic 6,000 word day made me wonder who crawled into my brain.
The lesson is, as long as I plod every day, I’ll keep connecting to my crazy characters. If a large, nasty spider gets in my way, I’ll plod on her slimy head. I will finish the climb because my reenergized characters demand their drama.
Whoops, sorry, I need to stop the naked drag queen from running down the highway. Arrest for indecent exposure isn’t in the future for him.
At least not let.
Wish me luck!
This seems like a great place for a taste of “Cupid Knows Best,” my newest novel from Dreamspinner.
BLURB:
When it comes to his professional life, photographer Carl Conrad is at the top of his game. He molds impressionable minds at university by day and jets off to Paris for gallery showings on long weekends. Unfortunately, he pays for it with his disastrous personal life: Carl kicked his boyfriend to the curb after one too many punches, so now it's just him and his hamsters, one of which he suspects may be a space alien.
Then Cupid takes pity on Carl and hits him where it hurts. It takes Carl all of three seconds to fall head over heels in lust with set design student Marcelino Moya, despite the man’s questionable—okay, deplorable—fashion sense. Convincing Marcelino to give him a chance is the hard part, but Carl is up for the challenge, pun definitely intended.
Marcelino plays hard to get, but he isn't immune to Carl's charms. Carl talks him around to dinner, dating, and eventually moving in. There's just one tiny word standing between Carl and perfect happiness. Why won't Marcelino say it?
 EXCERPT:
Where did my clever lover hide? I didn't trust him. Once we connected, an elegant someone had turned ridiculously clumsy in the classroom. Marcelino lost his grace and transformed into a staggering klutz. My poor body was run into, brushed against, and leaned on for support while we searched for mysterious camera problems. Seductive Marcelino learned how to tease and torture me.Before I turned my attention to the eight-by-ten enlarger, I needed to pinpoint his exact location. There: my suspect hovered close, but not close enough for a sneak attack. Good.Marcelino smiled at me in full innocence. The room's red safe light cast demonic shadows onto his structured face.As I skillfully demonstrated an enlarger technique, strong fingers darted between my legs and gripped. Hard.A strangled little yelp flew from my surprised lips. How did sneaky Marcelino maneuver behind me? Of course my amused students offered me the sadly familiar "what the hell is wrong with Carl now?" stare. Hell, I had grown used to the laughable expression. The look had been aimed at me for years. "Sorry, I experienced a weird muscle cramp. Must be old age attacking me."More like virile youth.During the next class, I planned to wear tight briefs, not my typical loose boxers. I needed protection against my wild suspect. I might resort to wearing a chastity belt or armor. Ouch.Strange how the odd muscle cramp never tormented me again. The rest of the class passed sans further physical molestation.I gathered the students for a few closing remarks concerning their upcoming quiz. What a pushover; I gave the class a take-home quiz. Somehow a few students still had wrong answers. They received a special note in my book marking them as slothful for not bothering to look up the correct answers.A mocking light accent teased around my heart. "Professor, how does your muscle cramp feel?""Much better, thanks for asking."Marcelino shot me a fine Cheshire Cat smile. "You need to go home and rest up.""Why?" I leaned close and dropped my volume. "Isn't tonight a torment-me evening?""Not really. Well, it is an I-am-not-hopping-into-bed-with-you evening. If you regard such a night as torment, then your description fits. I'll come over for a quick visit after I close the shop."I tried making my words sound inviting. "Imagine, when you move in with me, you won't have to work."Whoops, I failed. I received a supremely scolding stare, a stare designed to humble me. Marcelino never appreciated badgering about the hoped-for event. "Did it ever occur to you that I enjoy my part-time gig? Beside, I receive a serious discount."I almost said something rude about his lacking fashion sense, but surprise, this hippie understood fashion tact. Today’s tattered purple velvet bell-bottoms belonged in the tacky hall of fame. At least his mauve T-shirt almost matched. "Forget I said anything. I treasure any time I spend with you.""There’s the proper attitude. I can only drop by for a drink and a cuddle.""Yeah, like I said, torment."My sadist pursed his full lips at me. He swatted my arm. "Boo-hoo. See you around nine thirty."Watching my sexual tormentor's purple velvet-clad ass sway away from me added to my despair. I glanced into the photo equipment room. Hey, hold on, what had happened to the darkroom monitor? Instead of waiting for her to appear, I cleaned up after the students.I plodded toward home like a tired mule. Sigh. I wanted Marcelino in my bed every night. Unfortunately he had early-morning classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. If he needed to rise early, he refused to stay over. His restraint stunned me. On nights when he didn't work, dinner together was fine, but my sexy Latin lover refused to step into my bedroom. We cuddled on the couch or enjoyed walks through the Village holding hands, but absolutely no sex reared its lively head.I resorted to calling them torment-me nights. My gentle coaxing about how I lived closer to school, we'd sleep before midnight, I'd rise early and make him breakfast, fell like rain in a rushing river. Useless. Nothing persuaded Marcelino from his stubborn schedule.What the hell did hotter-than-habaneros Marcelino do to me? Did he doubt our future as a couple?No. Acting ridiculous did not fit into my romantic plan. I acted like a horny ass. My overreaction to his logical rules sickened me. Marcelino, as wild as he was, responded to our new affair like a sane person. I acted like an obsessive madman chasing a sexy walking, talking dream.Yoga, wine, and working on a proposal to teach a summer course promised to occupy my overheated mind until nine thirty.Had I ever acted this obsessive over Martin? Huh, the fascinating thought teased me. For some reason Martin had never inspired the level of devotion I offered my sweet Marcelino.My mind slapped around this absorbing topic until I entered my home. Had I always sensed something wrong in my last relationship? Weird.Yes indeed, yoga to the rescue.At 9:43, Marcelino's custom two raps followed by three quick taps announced his arrival. My childish side considered not giving him the downstairs foyer keys until he moved in, but acting petty would destroy my cool mantra. I stood, avoided stepping on my travel ball-rolling hamster, and undid the final locks.Our greeting kiss tempted me to grab Marcelino and haul him to the bedroom. No. I refused to act like a disrespectful dolt.He leaned back against my supportive hand weave and sighed. "Today put me through the wringer. I am exhausted, but I wanted to see you."What a perfect opening line to jump on. "Why not stay here tonight?"The scolding stare's little brother arrived for a quick visit. "Because I still have work to finish for tomorrow.""Great, out of all the gay males roaming around this grand city, I find the dedicated one.""Precisely. Stop complaining and pour me a glass of something relaxing. Hey there, Spazz." Marcelino waved at my hamster. He flopped onto the couch in dramatic sprawl. His eyes rolled heavenward in disgust. "To add to the day's stress, I conducted a silly spat with Andre over how he wanted the sweaters folded. What an anal jackass. 'No, Marceliiiiinoo, 'ooo need to fooold theeem liiiike deeese, width theee arms just seeew.' The weirdo fakes his French accent. What the hell, he's from Toronto, not Paris or even Montréal. He lays his accent on so thick it's a wonder our customers don't trip over his words."I almost missed the glass from laughing. "You are a wicked mimic. He does sound like Pepé Le Pew."I handed Marcelino his glass of Shiraz. We clinked and sipped."Ooo, how fine, Robin Hood. Errol Flynn is sexy eye candy in snug tights. Look at those thighs. Yummy." Marcelino snuggled close. He rested his head on my shoulder. How pleasant to sit and relax, let the world drop away, and trust in heroic Robin Hood to save the day again. Watching Errol dash about in those revealing tights made me want to play a male variation of Maid Marian.Common sense warned me to halt what evil lurked in my mind. Hey, life needed a little spice, correct? I finished my wine and set down the glass. Good, Marcelino's glass also rested on the table. "I know exactly how to relax you.""How?"I reached to undo Marcelino's zipper. In the next second, Marcelino stood and almost knocked me off the couch. Only the padded arm prevented me from hitting the floor. My lover moved like a snake!Common sense snickered in glee. Marcelino stood over me, shaking a scolding finger in mock sternness. "You handsome bully, you have no intention of relaxing me. I refused to be seduced. I said one glass of wine and a cuddle. Sir, you just turned into a wicked pumpkin."I shrugged and tucked my hands behind my neck. "Can you blame a deprived man for trying?""Deprived! More like sneaky." He finished his wine and sighed in fresh dismay. "Is it that late? Sorry, I need to dash. How about I make dinner for you tomorrow night?""Sounds fine to me. I'll buy scallops.""Mmm, delicious. Hey, on Friday we celebrate our two-week anniversary.""Has it only been two weeks? Prepare yourself for a big cliché, but I feel like we have known each other forever.""You smoked too much pot today.""Honest, only one joint after my yoga session. I’m cutting back.""I advise you to smoke another to help you sleep. I don't want you suffering from advanced sexual frustration." Marcelino snickered. I stood. He stepped back and grinned. "You know what? You are correct. Leave before I peel off your clothes and hide them to keep you from escaping.""I shall take my exit." We kissed without embracing. "Sweet dreams.""Scram!"
Thanks for reading and thanks for Caitlin for having me here today.S.A. Garcia
Cupid Knows best and S.A.'s Other Dreamspinner Titles S.A. Garcia's Blog S.A. Garcia's Novels at Silver Publishing