Tempeste O'Riley's Blog, page 20

Release Day Review ~ Caged Sanctuary

5 star Release Day Review from Sinfully Sexy Books! Thank you ladies so much for such a wonderful review

“I am neither blind nor stupid. I know you cannot do those things. However, there are many other things you can do and ways around much of what you can’t.”

What followed was a wonderful story of growth and exploration for both Kade and Deacon. Deacon was wonderful in the way he always tried to be attuned to Kade’s needs, while meeting his own of course. BDSM was only a partial element in this Dom/sub story, perhaps because both men were looking for something far more than either one of them had enjoyed before.

http://sinfullysexybooks.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/release-day-review-caged-sanctuary-by.html

“Caged Sanctuary” is now available!

Guess what today is?

Yep, you got it! It’s the official release day of “Caged Sanctuary.” (Kermit flail) I thought I’d give you a little peek and let you know where to grab your copy today.

Caged Sanctuary
a male/male erotic BDSM romance
Dreamspinner Press
Amazon
All Romance

Kaden Thorn, a dental surgeon who lives a quiet life, has no hope of finding the love he craves. A vicious gay bashing cost him the use of his legs and confined him to a wheelchair. He has given up hope of finding a Dom or even a non-kink partner to love him. When his best friend practically forces him to attend a dinner party, the last thing he expects is a strong Dom who can see beyond his wheels.

Deacon James is an architect and a demanding Dom, but he has spent the last couple of years without a sub or partner. When an employee invites him to a dinner party to meet his girlfriend, Deacon smells a setup but agrees anyway. He prides himself on being an excellent judge of character, and when he meets the younger dentist, he sees past the chair and finds a sweet submissive man who more than piques his interest.

Kade’s fears and demons continue to haunt him, challenging Deacon to use everything he’s learned as a Dom to earn Kade’s trust and submission. Deacon’s determined, though, willing to battle all of it to have Kade by his side and at his feet.

 

Want a little taste? Well, OK….

Deacon chuckled at how eager his boy was to see himself all trussed up. Smiling, he excused himself and returned shortly with his laptop. He had downloaded the images from his digital camera and had the shots ready for Kade in the photo viewer.

“I took three. One before we began but after you were decorated and bound with the ropes, the other two are later.”

“Why two later?” Kade stared at the computer, not taking his eyes off it, though Deacon hadn’t turned it so he could see the images.

“Let me show you. I think it will be obvious why when you see them.” Deacon settled on the bed next to Kade and turned the screen so Kade could see. The first was as he’d stated, of Kade tied to the bamboo pole, taken at an angle to see how open Kade was in that position, the intricate latticework of the silk ropes, and how he was blindfolded with his arms bound above him.

The next drew a gasp from Kade. He was in the same position, but the hand prints from the initial spanking and the flogging of his back were clear in the shot, as was how he strained his arms and back up as if seeking another strike. “That’s….”

“Gorgeous? Sexy as hell?”

Kade nodded as he reached out to trace one finger down the spine and along the legs of his image. “I don’t look broken like this.”

Deacon knew he was frowning, but didn’t care. “You’re not broken, Kaden. I would happily throttle the asshats that convinced you otherwise.”

“And the last one?” Kade asked, showing no sign of having heard Deacon.

“The last one is my favorite of the lot.” Deacon tapped the pad on the laptop again and the image changed.

Again, Kade hadn’t really moved much, but now the cane striping was clear on. His back was also streaked with Deacon’s spend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t enter Kade that way the first time in scene, but he’d been so hard he hurt and couldn’t resist adding his come to the beautiful marks on his boy. In Deacon’s personal opinion, Kade was the most beautiful sub he had had or seen.

“Oh, my…. You can see that I’m flying, my tears,” Kade whispered, voice reverent.

The odd watery tone made Deacon look at Kade again. When he did, he realized tears streaked Kade’s cheeks. “Oh, my sweet boy, why are you crying?”

“Never thought I’d fly again, much less be able to serve like this.” Kade quickly wiped at his eyes, turning away from Deacon. “Sorry.”

Deacon took a firm hold of Kade’s chin, pulling gently until Kade faced him. “Do not ever, and I do mean ever, apologize for being you. For serving me so perfectly. For feeling joy. Tears are not a sign of weakness,” he added when Kade seemed confused. “Your joy, your pain, your pleasure, all belong to me whether I’m right there with you or not. You’re my boy now.” Deacon dipped his head to take Kade’s lips in a soft kiss, hoping to show his boy how much he was wanted and how much he pleased Deacon both in and out of scene.

Echoes series by Anne Barwell

Thanks, Tempe, for hosting me

Echoes is a series set in occupied Europe during WW2.  Doktor Kristopher Lehrer is a scientist working on a top secret project in Germany. When his illusions are shattered and he discovers what the Nazis plan to do with his work, it isn’t long before he is on the run with both the Gestapo and the Allies after the plans he carries.

Echoes follows Kristopher and Michel (the undercover Resistance agent sent to watch him), and the Allied team as they attempt to stay one step ahead of their enemies and reach safety.

Book 1: Shadowboxing

Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2732&cPath=55_426

Blurb:

Berlin, 1943. An encounter with an old friend leaves German physicist Dr. Kristopher Lehrer with doubts about his work. But when he confronts his superior, everything goes horribly wrong. Suddenly Kristopher and Michel, a member of the Resistance, are on the run, hunted for treason and a murder they did not commit. If they’re caught, Kristopher’s knowledge could be used to build a terrible weapon that could win the war.

When Michel contacts the Allies, hoping they can work together, it isn’t long before the so-called “simple” mission becomes anything but. With both men realizing they can no longer ignore their growing feelings for each other, Kristopher and Michel must fight—not just for a chance of a future together, but for their very survival.

Kristopher laughed then stopped, surprised at his reaction. After all, wasn’t being provided for, as the price for at least attempting to live up to his father’s expectations, the very thing about his life that he’d resented? In a twisted way fate had provided him with the opportunity to move on from that and maybe become the very person he’d always yearned to be.

“First things first,” he muttered under his breath, reminding himself of the reason he was here. On the run for murder, theft, and God knew what else, and he was planning his future. He was definitely losing his mind.

His hands twisted the towel over and over while he attempted to calm himself. He took a few deep breaths. There was no point alarming Michel. He had enough to worry about. After returning the now-damp towel to its original hanging place, Kristopher drew himself up straight and walked back out into the main room.

Michel looked up from where he was sitting at the table; he seemed thoughtful. “Feeling better?” Was that concern in Michel’s eyes?

“As much as I’m going to be,” he answered, giving a small smile with his reply. Maybe Michel did really care? After all, everything that Kristopher had seen so far seemed to suggest that scenario. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking? “Is my being here going to be a problem?”

“You’ve taken a great deal of risks to get this far.”A determined expression crossed Michel’s face, and he shook his head. “I am certain that the priorities of this mission will be changed to include your safe passage out of Germany.” He slid the case back under the bed and looked Kristopher up and down. “You need to change your clothing into something less conspicuous. The cut of your suit draws attention to you, and you want to be able to blend in rather than stand out.” He opened the wardrobe, pondering its contents for a moment. Finally he pulled out a pair of gray flannel trousers and a nondescript cotton shirt, holding them out in front of him as he obviously attempted to gauge the sizing. “These might fit you. Try them on, and let’s take a look.” Turning back to the wardrobe, Michel chose a dark-colored, woolen zip-up sweater to complete the ensemble. “It’s cold. You’ll need to keep warm.”

“Thank you.” Kristopher took the clothing from Michel and headed back into the bathroom, wanting some privacy in which to change. “See you in a minute.” He almost regretted that decision when it brought home just how small the bathroom was, but he managed to only hit his elbow on the side of the sink once. Re-entering the room, feeling quite pleased by his accomplishment and how well the clothes fit he… stopped.

Michel was standing by the bed, clad only in a pair of very form-fitting undershorts. The earlier assumption about his uniform hiding a well-developed physique was quite an understatement on Kristopher’s part. Michel was… extremely good-looking. In fact Kristopher would even go as far as to use the word gorgeous to describe him.

Oh God.

Blushing, Kristopher stammered his apologies and ran from the room, seeking refuge in the small bathroom he’d just vacated. He splashed himself with cold water. What the hell? One look at Michel…. Glancing down, Kristopher willed the bulge in his trousers to disappear. What was wrong with him? This was not the reaction he should be having in response to seeing another man in a state of undress.

His heart was thumping, his skin flushed.

Kristopher groaned.

No, he wasn’t going to allow himself to react like this. He couldn’t, not after putting all this behind him that last time. A small voice whispered to him, reminding him the only other time he’d felt desire such as this was in response to accidently walking in on another man in a similar state of undress. It had to be a coincidence. He wasn’t attracted to other men. He couldn’t be. It wasn’t natural. At least according to what he’d been taught. It was his belief that those teachings had to be right that had prompted him to back away from David in the hope that some distance between them would make it easier to ignore the situation. If he was going to burn in hell it was better he do it alone rather than drag someone he cared about down with him. Hurting David by cooling their friendship was supposed to be better in the long term for both of them.

Yet, he’d still felt an echo of that physical attraction for David the last time they’d met, although the emotions that had once accompanied it were very much mellowed.

That attraction, in hindsight, had at least been easier to hide. He’d never had a physical reaction to David to this degree. David had been, and still was, a good-looking man. Michel…. Kristopher licked his lips, his mouth dry.

Michel looked amazing. He was muscular, yet not overly so; a fine smattering of light brown, almost red hair dusted his chest.

These thoughts were not helping.

“Kristopher, are you all right in there?” Michel sounded concerned.

“Fine. I’m fine. I just needed to um… adjust something.” Kristopher hated lying, but he wasn’t about to admit the truth. He didn’t want to see the disgust he knew would be reflected in Michel’s eyes. There was no need for anyone to know. It wouldn’t happen again.

This had to be a side effect of the stress he was under. Getting out of Germany would be very dangerous. No wonder his body was reacting in ways it shouldn’t. After all, it wasn’t every day that he discovered everything he’d believed in was a lie and the ideals he’d spent his life working toward weren’t worth the paper they were written on.

Seeing David again had also brought back memories and the emotions of the time they’d spent together as friends.

Kristopher walked out of the bathroom, hoping he appeared much more nonchalant than he felt. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, hoping he hadn’t made a total idiot of himself.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Book 2: Winter Duet, sequel to Shadowboxing

Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5508

Blurb:

Germany 1944

With Kristopher finally fit enough to travel, he and Michel leave the security of their safe house and continue their journey across Germany toward Switzerland. Caught in a series of Allied bombings, they stop to help civilians and narrowly escape capture by German forces.

While investigating a downed aircraft in the Black Forest, the two men discover an injured RAF pilot. After they are separated, Kristopher and the pilot are discovered by a German officer who claims he is not who he appears to be. Determined to find Michel again, Kristopher has to trust the stranger and hope he is not connected to those searching for him and the information he carries. Meanwhile Michel is intercepted by one of the Allied soldiers he met in Berlin. His help is needed to save one of their own.

Time quickly runs out. Loyalties are tested and betrayed as the Gestapo closes in. Michel can only hope that they can reach safety before information is revealed that could compromise not only his and Kristopher’s lives, but those of the remaining members of their team—if it is not already too late.

Kristopher dropped to his knees and examined the boy. His eyes were glazed over, and he flinched when Kristopher touched him. “He must have hit his head when he fell,” Kristopher said. He brought his hand away from the boy’s temple. It was covered in blood. “He needs help, but I can’t do much for him here, just try and stop the bleeding.” He quickly opened his satchel and pulled out a short length of bandage, bundled it into a wad, and held it against the wound. It probably wouldn’t be enough to stop it, but it was better than doing nothing. Head wounds tended to bleed, didn’t they? It didn’t mean it was something serious, but it could be.

He let out a quick breath. Damn it. He wished he’d paid more attention when he’d watched Clara at work. Why had he agreed to disguise himself a medic? In this situation when that was exactly what was needed, he was next to useless.

“We can’t stay here,” Michel said. “Can you tie something around the bandage so it keeps the pressure on it when we move him?”

“Keep pressure on the wound while I look.” Kristopher searched around in his bag, ripped some more of the bandaging material, and tied it quickly. His hands were shaking, but at least there didn’t seem to be any blood seeping through the original cloth he’d put over the wound. “I think that should hold it for now.”

Michel handed Kristopher the flashlight and then lifted the boy into his arms. “What’s your name?” he asked softly when the boy opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“Fritz,” the boy replied, his voice wavering. He put his arms around Michel’s neck and clung to him. Thankfully, he seemed more alert than he had a few moments before.

“Hello, Fritz. I’m Michel, and this is Paul,” Michel said. “We’re going to keep you safe, I promise.”

“You promise?” Fritz’s earlier confidence was gone. “I didn’t think it was so dark. I know this place. I shouldn’t have tripped.” He glared at the ground. “Stupid thing. Stupid stupid. Everything looks different.” He sniffled loudly and wiped one dirty hand over his face.

“Do you remember the way to the shelter, Fritz?” Kristopher asked. Michel was watching Fritz carefully, holding the boy close to him. His grip had tightened at the first sign of Fritz’s distress.

“I don’t need to put you down,” Michel reassured Fritz. “You can still guide us while I’m holding you.”

“I don’t want to walk.” Fritz bit his lip. He looked around and then pointed to a street to their left. “If we go down there it’s only about ten minutes away.”

They’d never reach the shelter in time before it closed.

“There isn’t one closer?” Michel asked.

“It’s the one I know about,” Fritz said, somewhat defensively. “Mutter told me if something happened I should go to it.”

“Where’s your mother now?” Kristopher asked. The light from the flashlight was dying quickly. They had to hurry.

“I don’t know. She went to get my baby sister, but she never came downstairs.” Fritz stuck his chin out. “I waited like she said, even when I heard the loud noises and people crying.”

“You live around here?” Kristopher hoped Fritz’s family had survived this. They’d have to try and reunite them or at least find someone who could look after him before they left Stuttgart.

Fritz nodded. Whatever his wound, it seemed as though it was definitely superficial or he wouldn’t be talking as much as he was. “I went looking for her, and I couldn’t find her.”

“You sound much better, Fritz. Do you think you could walk?” Michel asked.

“I don’t want to lose you and Paul too,” Fritz said. He let Michel put him down and then put one small hand into Michel’s.

“You won’t lose us,” Michel promised. “Keep holding my hand, and Paul will look after the flashlight. We can work together.”

“Michel’s very good at working together,” Kristopher told Fritz. He shone the flashlight around. The farther out into the street they got, the more rubble there was. It wasn’t safe to move too quickly, and at this speed they’d never reach the shelter before daylight. He glanced up at the sky. Most of the flashes of light now seemed to be focused toward the city center. “I’m wondering if it’s safer to stay here but get as far away from the buildings as we can and wait for daylight.”

“We don’t know how long this raid is going to last,” Michel said, “but we need to make a decision.” Something creaked and groaned to the side of them. “Move!” Michel yelled. He picked up Fritz and ran back the way they’d come. Kristopher didn’t stop to see what was going on behind him. He followed.

Moments later, more rubble hit the street where they’d just been standing. If they’d stayed there they would have been buried in it.

Kristopher shone the flashlight on it and shivered. “I think finding the shelter is the least of our problems,” he said. “We need to get out into the open. It’s not just more bombings that could kill us, but the buildings that are already damaged.”

“I know a place,” Fritz said after Michel put him down. “I’ll show you.” He took hold of Michel’s hand again. “You and Paul are soldiers.” He pointed to the Red Cross on Kristopher’s arm. “You’ll stay and help look after all the hurt people, won’t you? Vater is a soldier too. He’s fighting at the front. Mutter says he’s very brave.”

“Yes, we’ll stay and help,” Michel said before Kristopher could say anything. He squeezed Fritz’s hand. “We’ll also help you find your mother, or at least someone who can look after you.” He looked over at Kristopher and gave him a questioning look.

“Of course we will,” Kristopher said, wondering why Michel felt he’d even had to ask.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Book 3: Comes a Horseman, sequel to Winter Duet

**Still to be written**

Blurb:

France, 1944

The team has reached France and connected with Michel’s French Resistance cell in Normandy. Allied troops are poised to liberate France, and rescue is supposedly at hand. However, Kristopher is no longer sure that the information he carries is safe in the hands of either side.

The Gestapo finally catch up with their prey, and the remaining members of the team are left with few options. Who can they trust? Kristopher realizes he must become something he is not in order to save the man he loves. Sacrifices will be made, and lives changed forever, in order for any of them to survive and secure the future they want.

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand. She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.
In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.

She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

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“A Gift For A Lifetime” My story for Vicktor’s Birthday eXXXtravaganza

When I found out Vicktor’s birthday was soon, I was thrilled to write something for his Birthday eXXXtravaganza. I hope you like what Vick inspired (Oh, and one lucky commenter over at Vick’s site, will win a special birthday gift!…)

A Gift For A Lifetime

by Tempeste O’Riley

Pacing the floor wasn’t conducive to much, but Pete couldn’t seem to stop. He hated birthdays, especially when it was his own. Somehow, and he still couldn’t figure out how, but his best friend, the guy he learned about sex, kink, and more from, had conned him into going out for dinner with some friends. Pete didn’t know all of Jase’s friends, Jase being infinitely more social and outgoing, but Pete had never been good at saying no to his friend.

He paused long enough to look out the front window of his home, again, and scowled when he didn’t find Jase’s car out front. Not that it surprised him. No, Jase was annoyingly punctual; he was never early or late to anywhere. Pete had never figured out how the man did it, but right then, he didn’t overly care. He’d already picked up his cell a dozen times, wanting to call—though text wouldn’t let Jase use guilt quite as effectively—and cancel.

Resuming his strides across the living room floor, and back, Pete wondered where they were going. That was one of the little details Jase had refused to give, and as usual, when he’d used his “Dom” voice, Pete had backed off and consented to the “surprise” destination. All he’d managed to get out of his friend was how he should dress—black slacks, a pale gray button-down silk shirt. No jewelry. The last instruction was the one that bugged Pete the most. He always wore his nipple rings, even though he hadn’t been with anyone for over a year. The only other piece he usually wore was a ring; one Jase himself had given Pete years ago, back when they occasionally played together. It wasn’t a big deal, as they’d never been a true couple, but it felt weird not to wear anything.

Still, he couldn’t imagine why the weird requests or why this year they had to go out. Usually, Jase only forced a private dinner and a couple of gifts on Pete, knowing how much he hated his birthday. The reason for his hatred tried to push to the surface, but Pete beat it into submission and forced it back behind the door he kept all his past hurts.

Stopping again, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he counted from ten to one. He’d learned long ago to focus and count so his natural edginess didn’t get to him. Well, not as much, at least. He just hoped Jase hurried up and the night could pass quickly and quietly.

Ha! Yeah, quiet wasn’t Jase’s way, but still, he could hope.

The loud hoot of Jase’s horn pulled him out of his musings, and while he expected the honk, it still made him jump. Swallowing his nerves, Pete grabbed his pea coat and headed out the door, locking it before stepping off the front stoop and hurrying over to Jase’s Cruze—Iridescent Pearl Cruze, he was fussy about color names.

When he opened the passenger door, Jase leaned over and grinned wide. “Hey, Petey, hurry up. You’re letting the heat out.”

“Yeah, yeah, bite me,” he quipped, smiling despite his worry.

“Nah, not tonight. But hey, the nights still young, you might find someone who’s into that.”

Continued…

“On Wings of Song” by Anne Barwell Cover Reveal

Thank you for hosting my cover reveal for On Wings of Song

TL Bland has done a great job in capturing the story and essence of On Wings of Song. It’s not only a great cover, but fits perfectly as part my growing collecting of covers I have framed on my wall.

You can see more of TL Bland’s work at her website: http://www.thruterryseyes.com/

Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.

The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

Dreamspinner Press

“I’ve seen it,” Aiden said quietly. “I wish to God I hadn’t.” He looked directly at Jochen. Jochen met Aiden’s gaze. He’d seen an echo of Conrad’s fire in Aiden when he’d talked about his music earlier that afternoon.

“Don’t die on the wire, Aiden.”

“I’ll try not to.” Aiden’s words were an empty promise. They both knew it, but what else was he going to say?

The red-haired man Aiden had spoken to about arranging the burials walked over to him. He too held a shovel, and he wiped perspiration from his brow despite the cold. “There’s going to be a combined service for the dead,” he told them. “In about ten minutes in no man’s land in front of the French trenches.”

As they made their way over, men were already beginning to gather, soldiers from opposite sides sitting together, conversation dwindling to a respectful silence. A British chaplain stood in front of them, a Bible in his hand, a German beside him. Jochen recognized him, although he didn’t know his name. The young man was only a few years older than Jochen and was studying for the ministry—would he ever get the chance to complete those studies?

Jochen and Aiden found somewhere to sit a few rows back from the front and joined the company of men. The German spoke first. “Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel. Geheiligt werde dein Name.”

The British chaplain repeated the words in English. “Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.”

They then spoke a few words each, some from the Bible, the rest from their hearts. Their congregation was silent apart from a few quiet “amens.” Jochen saw a couple of men wipe tears away. He was close to it himself.

Finally the chaplain bowed his head in prayer. When he’d finished, he spoke quietly to the man who had come to stand next to him. It was Captain Williams. He nodded and looked over the crowd, his gaze fixing on Aiden.

Aiden must have guessed what Williams wanted. He inclined his head in response and then stood. Jochen glanced between the two men, confused. What did Williams expect Aiden to do?

“Aiden?” Jochen asked softly.

Aiden smiled at him and began to sing. “O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining….” He lifted his head, his voice strong and clear, each note building on the last to create something truly beautiful, something angelic. Aiden’s eyes shone; his body swayed slightly in time with the music. He was the music.

His audience sat in awe. Jochen could feel the emotion rippling through the men around him, tangible, as though he could reach out and touch it. He felt something inside himself reach out, wanting to be a part of it, to be carried along the wave of pure music, to grab it and never let go.

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand. She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.
In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.
She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

Blog: http://anne-barwell.livejournal.com/

Website: http://annebarwell.wordpress.com/

Coffee Unicorns: http://coffeeunicorns.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anne.barwell.1

Dreamspinner Press Author Page: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_426

 

Toy Run by Charlie Descoteaux

Ian’s Holiday Memory

Thanks for having us, Tempe!

Ian Bowen, the main character in my 2013 Dreamspinner Advent story “Toy Run” is a man of few words. So few it’s not easy to get to know the guy, but it’s usually easier to get him talking when the subject is his grandfather. Today, Ian’s sharing a holiday memory, and a recipe. My contribution is a Rafflecopter giveaway. The giveaway will be open through December 19th, so visit another stop or two along the way for more entries!

Granddad wasn’t big on holidays, except Christmas. He and his buddies always collected toys to drop off at the firehouse or went on toy runs—they’d hit two or three in the state if everyone could get the time off work.

When I was a kid, he’d cook for days—cookies and cinnamon rolls and a huge breakfast that morning. He wouldn’t let me open one present until after I ate, either, the hardass.

My favorite Christmas cookie is still pfeffernüsse—dipped in chocolate or dusted with powdered sugar…not that Granddad approved of fancying them up. Before I learned how fast he’d cave and break out the chocolate I ate a shitload of those spicy Scrabble tiles plain.

This recipe is my favorite, and it makes about 120 little cookies. I’m not the cook Granddad was so I can’t guarantee your results. Just don’t skimp on the chocolate or powdered sugar and you should be okay. The kids will thank you.

Ingredients

2 eggs

1 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup candied ginger or candied fruit, finely chopped

1-1/2 tsp grated lemon rind

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/3 cup ground almonds

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp ground cardamom

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp ground ginger

1 pinch ground cloves

1 pinch allspice

1 pinch salt

1/3 cup icing sugar

Preparation

In large bowl, beat together eggs, brown sugar and granulated sugar on medium speed until slightly thickened and light in color, about 6 minutes. Fold in candied ginger and lemon rind.

In separate bowl, whisk together flour, almonds, baking powder, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, pepper, ginger, cloves, allspice and salt ; stir into egg mixture with wooden spoon. Turn out onto lightly floured surface; knead until combined. (Make-ahead: Wrap in plastic wrap; refrigerate for up to 24 hours.)

Divide into 12 portions. Roll each portion into 10-inch rope; cut into 1-inch pieces. Place, 1/2 inch apart, on 2 parchment paper–lined rimless baking sheets. Bake in center of 325°F oven for 15 minutes or until light brown. Let cool on pans for 15 minutes.

Into bowl, sift icing sugar. Roll cookies in sugar, a few at a time, to coat. Let cool on rack. (Make-ahead: Store in airtight container for up to 1 month.)

“Toy Run,” by Charley Descoteaux

Former physical therapist and reluctant loner Ian Bowen has spent the three years since his grandfather’s death searching for a man to inspire him to park his Harley for a while—without much hope of finding him. On a whim, he shows up for a Toy Run and meets Ed Gonzalez, another loner with a pile of toys lashed to his bike. A few beers at the end-of-the-run party turn into an invite to Ed’s for homebrew. But instead of a night of fun, the unseasonable cold renders Ed immobile with pain. When he tells Ian he just needs meds, Ian does one of the things he does best—he massages Ed’s pain away, allowing him a rare restful night’s sleep and creating intimacy neither wants to lose. Ian thinks two men have to follow certain rules to be together, but Ed’s prepared to show him how wrong he is.

Dreamspinner Press
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SUNSHINE STREAMED through the open curtains about five minutes later. At least that’s what it felt like. Ed was still dead to the world, so I helped myself to a shower and then prowled his refrigerator. That kitchen belonged to a man who was happy to stay on his property. Even with my relatively limited skills, I had a half-dozen choices of breakfast. He peeked in as I poured eggs into a skittering-hot frying pan.

He just looked at me for a long time, then walked behind me and sat in a kitchen chair. His appliances were all new, state-of-the-art, but his round oak table and the four chairs around it were as old as the house. Maybe older.

“Sleep okay?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked to make sure he wasn’t coming at me with a knife, and his face looked like Granddad’s after I fixed his bum leg for him. Only not like that at all.

What’s your favorite holiday recipe? After you share, don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter for a shot at 5 prizes: a hand knit hat, Dreamspinner credit, and three books!

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Where and When:

Nov. 29: Tempeste O’Riley

Dec. 1: Grace R. Duncan

Dec. 8: Jana Denardo

Dec. 10: Kim Fielding

Dec. 11: Amber Kell

Dec. 16: Anne Barwell

Dec. 18: Skylar Cates

Charley Descoteaux has always heard voices. She was relieved to learn they were fictional characters, and started writing when they insisted daydreaming just wasn’t good enough. In exchange, they’ve agreed to let her sleep once in a while. Charley grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area during a drought, and found her true home in the soggy Pacific Northwest. She has survived droughts, earthquakes, floods, and over a decade living in an area affectionately known (in her strange little world) as Portland’s middle finger, but couldn’t make it through one day without stories.

Rattle Charley’s cages—she’d love to hear from you!

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Transgender Day of Remembrance

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance, an opportunity for communities to come together and remember transgender people, gender-variant individuals, and those perceived to be transgender who have been murdered because of hate. I’m not going to write a long post, but wanted to help remember and share today. Hate is never OK. Violence is never OK. And the loss of life due to hate is immoral, repulsive, and unforgivable! So please take a moment today to remember those lost and those struggling.

Sex Positivity Blog Hop: What exactly is normal about repression?

Hello and welcome to the Sex Positively Blog Hop, the brainchild of fellow author, Grace Duncan. From November 9th through November 22nd, you’ll hear from some of your favorite romance authors sharing their positive views on sexuality, as opposed to the negative spin we get from most lawmakers, the media, and ‘concerned citizens.’ For the entire list of participants in the hop according to dates posting, check out this link here. There is a link at the bottom of the post for the websites themselves.

When thinking about how we are taught to perceive sex, it’s actually rather mindboggling. We sell cars, cereal, toothpaste, and more with sex, yet the person that actually enjoys engaging in sex is seen as a slut, a whore, a player, or worse. It’s not reserved for women to be shamed either, though that does seem to be more prevalent. And then we can add in non-hetronormative, vanilla sex, and all hell breaks loose.

Women that engage in sex are shamed (slut, whore, tramp, unfit, etc.), while those same people often revere men doing the same (stud, man, duuuude, horn dog—though the last one can be a compliment or an insult, depending). It’s hard to get away from the negativity around sex and the enjoyment thereof. We have been programed from birth that girls are pretty, boys are handsome. Girls are to be chaste until marriage, boys are to experiment and have experience before marriage. Girls are to only love boys, boys are to only want/love/lust for girls. Oh, and that anything but basic missionary style sex is perverse.

The Madison Institute Newsletter, Fall Issue, 1894:

At this point, dear reader, let me concede one shocking truth. Some young women actually anticipate the wedding night ordeal with curiosity and pleasure! Beware such an attitude! A selfish and sensual husband can easily take advantage of such a bride. One cardinal rule of marriage should never be forgotten: GIVE LITTLE, GIVE SELDOM, AND ABOVE ALL, GIVE GRUDGINGLY. Otherwise what could have been a proper marriage could become an orgy of sexual lust.

While the article I note here is from the 1800’s, that mindset is still often instilled in our children, in ourselves, in our perceptions of others as good or bad. It’s a frightening thing to me that something as natural as sex is often demonized. The effects can be horrible and long-lasting. Shame, fear, revulsion of your natural desires is never OK. It is never “right”, no matter what the conservative Right says, no matter what the preist/preacher says on Sunday, no matter what society says.

Sex is natural. Sex is normal. Sex is a positive activity that brings pleasure, joy, release, enhances intimacy and connection with the one(s) we love.

Can you imagine being told that enjoying sex is dirty and sinful? Well, that’s what many are told all the time. Add in if you happen to have a bit (or a hell of a lot) of Kink to your desires… It’s a recipe for self-loathing, depression, fear, and shame.

The Madison Institute Newsletter, Fall Issue, 1894:

Just as she should be ever alert to keep the quantity of sex as low as possible, the wise bride will pay equal attention to limiting the kind and degree of sexual contacts. Most men are by nature rather perverted, and if given half a chance, would engage in quite a variety of the most revolting practices. These practices include among others performing the normal act in abnormal positions; mouthing the female body; and offering their own vile bodies to be mouthed in turn.

Wow! What a thing to teach women about sex and about their husbands! The really sad thing is, I know people that were taught this, in this day and age. When I was 18, my mother sat me down and told me not to do “it”, that my husband would teach me…. Yep, that was my whole ‘birds and bees’ talk. I’d heard my whole life how this person was horrible because they were pregnant but not married. That person was nasty for being in a ‘sinful’ relationship (that got more complicated as it seemed damn near everyone was a perv to someone . And let’s not forget, those pervs included gays—even in long-term, committed relationships—interracial couples—and no, I’m seriously not old enough for that to be a legit argument!—that the victims of rape “asked for it”—yeah, I still don’t get that one either—and more.

My long and rambling point is that whether you are gay or straight, kinky or vanilla, married, single, poly, etc., sex is a normal, healthy, safe (using condoms when appropriate), and fun experience that should be looked at as what it really is: NATURAL!

Without sex there would be no children. Without sex… well, I cannot and do not wish to even fathom the level of sexually repressed issues the world would face (and we already have a shit-ton of those issues thanks to the afore mentioned attitudes toward sex and intimacy of the flesh). Religion, your parents opinons, the thoughts of the guy down the street, should never be given any sway in something a natural as sex. We are all born as sexual creatures, we crave it, enjoy it, and we should never ever shame another for engaging in sex—well, unless a minor, someone else’s spouse/partner, or it’s forced!

Sex is… well…. George Michael says it well:

…It’s natural

It’s chemical (let’s do it)

It’s logical

Habitual (can we do it?)

It’s sensual

But most of all…

Sex is something we should do

Sex is something for me and you

Sex is natural – sex is good

Not everybody does it

But everybody should

Sex is natural – sex is fun…

Here’s the link to the rest of the blog hop! Do join in the fun!

 

My latest releases are “Temptations of Desire“, “Hope and Love Anthology“, and “Truth in Lace“. Both ToD and TiL are part of the Desires Entwined series from Dreamspinner Press. The Anthology is a donation (all income from the sale of both eBook and print) anthology that is a gift for the Milwaukee LGBT Community Center (here in Wisconsin, lol).

Click here to check out all my stories!

I hope you will take something away from this post about sex in a positive manner! Thanks for stopping by and I hope you take a few moments to check out the rest of the tour.

 

Chained Hearts by Elizabeth Noble

 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Book 3: Chained Hearts

Todd and Nick Ruger are alive and on the run in the Yellowknife Protectorate, but maybe not for long. After narrowly escaping New Colorado, where they were implicated in the assassination of Chancellor Shaffer, they’re running out of steam: Todd is gravely ill and Nick’s injured. Just when it seems like the harsh winter will get the best of them, they find refuge with a doctor in the isolated town of Elk’s Ridge.

On the surface, Elk’s Ridge seems the ideal place to rebuild their lives. Nick begins training as the doctor’s apprentice, and Todd works in a lumberyard until they’re recovered enough to return to their duties as Sentries. They make friends, forge a new life, and most importantly, there’s no sign of anyone from New Colorado.

They should have known it was too good to be true. Victor Raleigh, the new Vice Chancellor of New Colorado, knows all about Nick’s psychic abilities, and he wants them in his corner. When Nick is betrayed and captured, Todd sees no alternative but to head back to the war zone to rescue him. But will Nick be the same man Todd loves after Raleigh’s pet psychic vampire is through with him?

Dreamspinner

Amazon

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ITS tongue slipped inside Nick’s tunic, slithered over his pecs, teasing at his nipple before sliding up and forcing between his lips. Oily bitterness dripped down the back of his throat.

Not yours. He didn’t want this. Not yours.

Nick jolted awake.

Sitting up, he gulped in large breaths, trying desperately to vanquish the images dredged up from his mind to invade his sleep. Something reached across his chest and pressed against his sternum, startling him enough he jerked away from the touch, gasping softly.

It slid across his jaw, leaving a wet, slimy trail over his cheek.

“N’kky.” Todd’s voice was rough and slurred. Todd shifted beside him, pushing up on one elbow. Exhaling a loud, shaky breath, he stretched his other arm farther across Nick’s chest. “Juss me. Stay. Shhh,” he mumbled, tightening his grip so Nick was pulled back against Todd’s chest, his lips soft on the back of Nick’s neck, and his warm breath blowing over Nick’s skin as he talked. “What’s a matter?” Todd’s words ran together enough it took Nick a few seconds to work out what he’d said.

“I… a dream… Todd.” Nick turned so he could face his mate. “Nightmare. Really bad.”

Nick was pulled even more tightly against Todd. “Another one?” he exhaled.

“What if the kelbit had a mate? There had to be more than one, right? What if it wants some sort of revenge?”

Todd squinted at him. The moon was barely a quarter full and set low in the sky. It was stuffy inside the wagon and still nice enough they often slept outside, though, realistically, they probably only had a few more weeks before weather forced them inside every night. They were moving farther north every day. He rubbed at his neck before wiping at his eyes, and shook his head. “Huh?”

When Todd scooted away, Nick couldn’t help reaching out and grabbing hold of his arm. “Don’t leave, please.”

Todd stopped, turned, and looked Nick up and down, then reached out and brushed two fingers through Nick’s bangs. “Shush. I’m not going anywhere, just to the wagon.” He stretched far enough to reach the water barrel and cups hanging off the back of the wagon. Todd always chose to camp somewhere close to a stream or pond; somewhere they could get fresh water. They were far enough north that at this time of year, early fall, the streams and rivers cooled down at night, and the water was pleasantly cold. The barrel was emptied and refilled nightly.

After opening the spout, Todd poured water into one of the tin cups and slid across the ground until he was beside Nick. “Here, drink this.”

Nick didn’t realize how thirsty he was until the cool water slipped down his throat. He had to admit it tasted good and did make him feel a bit better. He emptied the cup and held it against his knee, hands shaking. “They reproduce somehow, right? What if the one we killed had a mate?”

“Why do you think that?” Todd filled a second cup of water for himself, downed half, left the rest in the cup, and set it off to the side.

“It could, right?”

“I suppose. You read the same information I did, Nick. They mate and reproduce when they’re in their natural form, not when they have a host.”

“And they mate for life.” Nick drew in a few shaky breaths.

“Nick.” Todd sighed, took Nick’s cup, refilled it, and pressed it back into Nick’s hands. “We have no proof there was a mate. And if there was, I have no idea how it’d—”

“She. It would be a she.”

Todd rubbed the skin under his eyes. “I have no idea how she’d track us.”

“Todd, there’s… every time I sleep… it’s there… she’s there. Right along with him and how he was all over me. I can still feel that tongue and everything it did, every touch….”

Todd scooted closer and held Nick’s face in both hands. “Nick. Nicky… shush… stop. Nothing is here. We’ve seen no sign of anything following us. You and I check every day. You’ve been with me.” Todd slid one hand down to Nick’s shoulder and urged him to lean forward. He lifted Nick’s shirt and peeled away the bandage over his scapula. “Let me see.” Nick felt how Todd pulled in a breath and let out a long sigh. “It’s still not healing well.”

Nick shivered when Todd’s fingers gently touched his skin. He turned his head as far as he could, trying to see over his shoulder. Todd chuckled soft and low, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss over the back of Nick’s neck between his slave collar and where his hair curled up.

“It’s like what I dream is worse than what actually happened.”

“You’re my boy, and I’m never leaving you alone and vulnerable like that again. Anything will have to go through me first. Even if she is following us, we’ll deal with her, just like we dealt with him.” Todd patted the bandage back into place. “In the morning, when there is better light, I’ll clean that again, scrub it good, and re-bandage it. I think it might be getting infected again.”

That probably explained why Nick hadn’t been feeling so well for the last day and a half. After rolling his shoulder a few times, Nick stretched his arm up and around in a circle. “I wish the stupid thing would get better already.”

“There is still some of that antiseptic cream the doctor gave me before we left the estate. We’ll look for more when we stop to stock up on supplies.” Nick felt the movement of Todd’s lips against his skin as he talked. Todd inched close enough that his legs bracketed Nick’s. Todd wound his arms around Nick’s waist and pulled Nick flush against his chest. Nick let out a long, slow breath when his head was tipped to the side, and Todd licked slow, luxurious trails along Nick’s throat.

Nick reached back and felt along the covered wound with his fingertips. “It’s starting to hurt more.”

Todd moved his hands to roam lightly over Nick’s shoulder and pressed his lips more urgently against the skin of his neck. “And not letting you sleep well either, I bet.”

He moved his tongue and lips in soothing strokes up and down Nick’s neck, and he lightly massaged over Nick’s back, shoulders, and arms. Nick’s eyes drifted closed, and he relaxed back and sank against the warmth and muscle of Todd’s body.

Tongue oozed over his jaw, along his lips. It forced its way inside. Nick jerked away. It was Todd’s face he saw, not the kelbit’s. The long tongue, dripping with oily venom, was coming out of Todd’s mouth. Nick was stunned and confused. This shouldn’t be happening, wasn’t real, his mind screamed. Still, the scene played on. Todd’s face split into a manic grin; then his lips curled into a snarl. His face morphed into Shaffer’s, then into the kelbit’s. Nick lashed out, connected with the hideous face, and knocked the head away from the body. Todd’s head rolled away, eyes staring up. Cut off its head. Sever spinal cord. Todd’s eyes blinked, and the bodiless head rolled back and forth a few times while it laughed.

“Nick!” Hands Nick immediately knew were Todd’s gripped his shoulders, turned him, and shook him—hard. Nick blinked and rubbed at his eyes. Todd’s hands dropped away, and he lifted one to rub at his jaw while sliding it side to side. “Ow. Christ, who taught you to hit so hard?”

“I… you… I didn’t mean… Todd, I’m sorry.” He’d hit Todd? His mate. His master. The thought made his stomach turn and his eyes sting. Yet, nearly every night since killing the kelbit, Nick relived driving a knife into the creature’s neck and severing a head wearing Todd’s face, seeing it roll away, eyes open and staring up. Each nightly show his subconscious put on was ten times worse than his final fight with the kelbit and even more frightening. Nick shuddered.

“Nicky, come on… come here.” Todd pulled him close again. “Stop this. It’s okay. We’re okay. Tell me about them, everything.”

Nick sighed, straightened, and leaned away from Todd far enough to look out at the trees for a minute. He nodded slowly. “They’re always the same. The kelbit comes after me, just like it did at the Chancellor’s Estate, but then it gets worse. I can’t get away, and what it does… it goes a lot further. There are two in my dreams, and the one still alive is pissed we killed her mate. Then….” His voice cracked, and he shivered again. “Then I have to kill it—kill you. I can see that thing’s head with your face on it coming off the body and rolling away. Watching me, always watching me.”

Todd rubbed his hand up and down Nick’s spine. It felt good, and Nick relaxed into the strength of Todd’s hand and the gentleness of his touch. “Nicky, you have to let it go. For me, please?”

Nick wound his arms around Todd’s middle, swallowed down his fear and memories, nodded, and nestled against him, hanging on tight and relaxing when Todd pressed his arms in close, holding him just as tightly. “I’m trying. It doesn’t want to let go of me.”

Elizabeth Noble started telling stories before she actually knew how to write, and her family was very happy when she learned to put words on a page. Those words turned into fan fiction that turned into a genuine love of M/M romance fiction. Being able to share her works with Dreamspinner is really a dream come true. She has a real love for all things sci-fi, futuristic, and supernatural and a bit of an unnatural interest in a super-volcano in Wyoming.

Elizabeth has three grown children and is now happily owned by an adorable mixed breed canine princess named Rosie, and two cats, Murphy and Yeti. She lives in her native northeast Ohio, the perfect place for gardening, winter and summer sports (go Tribe!). When she’s not writing she’s working as a veterinary nurse, so don’t be surprised to see her men with a pet or three who are a very big part of their lives.

Website ♥ Dreamspinner ♥ DSP Author ♥ Amazon ♥ Facebook ♥ Facebook Page ♥ Google+

 

 

Who needs more spoons?

If you’ve ever struggled to explain a disability or illness to others because you don’t “look” whatever they think is sick/disabled, then you probably know about the great little story called The Spoon Theory. If you are one of the fortunate, those that don’t have to worry about if they have enough energy, enough strength, enough _____ to get everything done you need to do in a day because of your health, congratulations!

What I wanted to share with you today is how The Spoon Theory  has affected me and mine. I struggled for a long time to figure out how to make others, especially those with good health, understand that I’m not being lazy, I’m not ditching out on them, and that I would really rather hang out/work/go out/etc. than be stuck at home because I’m simply too tired, in too much pain, well… simply do not have enough ‘spoons’ to get through my day. This is not the easiest thing to make others understand! Sadly, it’s been an uphill battle even within my family.

You see, as many of you know, I have a genetic disorder called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Some days I have the ability to write, read, enjoy my children (as long as I don’t do too much physically), but others… and by far the greater number of days, I have little to no energy thanks to pain and exhaustion. When I began writing, I used forearm crutches and gave my first MC the same disorder I have. Now, however, I have been told that the crutches need to go away and I need to use a wheelchair almost exclusively. Talk about depressing. There are so many places I simply cannot go now, thanks to my chair. Many shops are not accessible. Others have isles/racks too close so I can’t look around within, even though I can get inside. And don’t get me started on the ramps around me! Ugh…. too steep and oddly banked! GRrrrrr

My point is not to make you feel bad for me, I don’t want that! But rather, to make others see that those of us that have to back out, that can’t do all the things we once did, don’t want to be this way and that we aren’t being lazy. I would invite each of you to take a couple of minutes to read The Spoon Theory and then see if you might think a little differently about those around you. See that the person at Wal-Mart using the electric cart, that person that doesn’t look elderly or disable, just might have something ‘wrong’ and really need that cart. That the person who rarely goes out, might need a friend willing to stay in and help them some…

There’s this great shop I found, I used them in Desires’ Guardian in fact, that makes spoon necklaces and such. I’d love to share that with you also. In DG, Chase wears a choker of a spoon from Sunshine Silverware! They’re a real thing and I simply love the wide variety of spoon items she has for sale.

I know I rambled a little, but I hope you find a new understanding for those that want to be “normal” because we want to do more, we just need more spoons in our day to make that happen.