Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Three days and counting until 'One Plus Two Equals...'

 
'One Plus Two Equals...' - June 30th
 

Out of work waiter Julyan Elwyn gets a job at the restaurant owned by Duane Reives. He is attracted to Duane but tamps it down, believing the man is straight. 
 
Then he meets Auden Reviers, a mysterious, tough-as-nails man who takes what he wants, to wit kisses from Julyan.
 
When Duane reveals he's interested in Julyan, the young man is torn between their blossoming attraction, which could turn to love, and the conflicted feelings he has for Auden.
 
All that changes as secrets are revealed and Julyan must learn to trust his heart when it comes to the two men in his life.

Excerpt:
Chapter One
Duane stepped back to look at what he'd accomplished and smiled. The collage on the long wall of his soon-to-open restaurant had come out just as he'd envisioned it. He'd collected pictures of New Orleans from its founding days up until the present, had them copied and blown-up, and then spent too many hours tacking them up to the wall, moving them from place to place and re-tacking them until he'd gotten the balance of color to black and white the way he'd wanted. After adhering them in place he'd used a clear, matte sealer to finish the job.
"Perfect," he murmured happily before setting to work to add objects he'd picked up at the local voodoo shops and antique stores. When they were all hung randomly throughout the collage it would add the third dimension he wanted.
"Whoa, that's fantastic!"
Duane spun around to see one of his newly-hired waiters standing in the open doorway. He grinned and made a sweeping bow. "Thanks. It was work but I think it came out alright."
"More than alright." The young man, Jack if Duane remembered correctly, stepped into the room to check it out. "You have a good eye for atmosphere."
"Again, thanks. What brings you here?"
"Oh. Yeah. I wanted to tell you if you need more help, my roommate just got laid off and could use a job. He's done restaurant work and so…" Jack shrugged.
"Sure, send him along. I still need a couple more waiters just to be on the safe side."
Jack grinned, going back to the door to beckon to someone. Duane eyed the newcomer with a practiced eye when he came into view. He looked to be twenty-three or four at the most, well-dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, with short blond hair. Jack introduced him as 'Julyan, with a 'y'.' Julyan Elwyn.
"Interesting name," Duane commented.
Julyan shrugged, chuckling. "Came with the birth certificate. Seems my mother was a romantic."
"Jack says you need a job?"
"Yes. Rather desperately I'm afraid, what with rent coming due soon. I don't want to take advantage of Jack's friendship any longer than necessary without paying my share."
"Come with me and I'll give you an application. Unless you're a wanted criminal or don't know the difference between jambalaya and gumbo, I'll probably hire you."
Julyan followed Duane into his office. "Native born Louisianan so trust me I know the food and I've paid both my speeding tickets so I doubt there's any wants-and-warrants out for me."
"Both are plusses," Duane replied with a laugh, handing him the application. While he waited for Julyan to fill it out, he did some bookwork he'd been putting off, until his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a minute then hung up. By then Julyan was finished and, after scanning the form, Duane nodded. "I'll check your references of course, but off-hand I'd say you're hired."
"Thank you. Believe me, Jack will appreciate that."
"Are you two… ?" Duane left the question hanging.
Julyan shook his head. "Just friends. We met at the last place we both worked, he needed a roommate and I figured what the hell. Then, two weeks ago he got laid off, which should have been a warning sign. Three days ago, it was my turn. If he didn't have money saved, we'd be out on the street soon."
"Alright, I'll call you."
Obviously taking that as his cue to leave, Julyan did. As soon as he closed the door Duane made a phone call and then returned to the dining room of the restaurant to finish what he'd been doing.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Please welcome - Margie Church


Nice digs, Edward. You have one of my favorite first names in the whole wide world. Thanks for inviting me to share my new book, 'Executive Decision', with your friends.


Since they work together, the relationship between Hunter and Logan is straightforward on the surface. Logan appears the confident, take-charge sales supervisor in the office, but Hunter jacks up Logan's libido faster than a dash of vinegar on baking soda. Volcanic. The two of them have a very exciting relationship until the day Logan's quest for hot sex in risky places lands them both in trouble. An executive decision is made that pits these lovers against each other. Madame Eve's services reunites them, but for how long?

I had a lot of fun writing this short story. A few kinksters on FetLife helped me with some of the techniques and toys these guys enjoy. I hope you'll enjoy living vicariously through these two or maybe trying some of it yourself.

'Executive Decision' by Margie Church

The prospect of getting caught while having sex is a powerful aphrodisiac for Logan Carlyle. He's viewed as the leader on the sales force, but in bed, he's a submissive all the way.

Hunter James is just as adventurous as Logan. He's lower in the sales ranks, but he's the top when it comes to his relationship with Logan.

When Logan's thrill-seeking desires create chaos with their careers and severs their relationship, Madame Evangeline's expertise is required.

Adult Excerpt:

Logan Carlyle lubed the anal plug then braced against the narrow stall’s wall while easing the flared toy between his ass cheeks. Perspiration dotted his forehead. His dick reacted instantly. He clenched his jaw tight to swallow a groan. That feels so…damn…good.
When he felt more in control, he pulled up his underwear and fiddled with the fabric to ensure his snug briefs would hold his little toy in place while he walked back to his office. His belt buckle jingled softly as he drew his expensive slacks over his thighs. While washing his hands, he mumbled a few mindless comments to another colleague at the sinks.
But all he could really think about was the hot sex he’d be having within the hour.
The plug created fantastic friction against his prostate, arousing Logan more with every step he took. Hiding his erection while he walked through the busy hallways was always a challenge. A delicious one he looked forward to.
A colleague from marketing stopped him in the hallway. “Do you think Kespers is going to accept another million pounds of Bis-A this year?”
“Cold day in hell, I think.” He answered her with complete aplomb, while his mind did cartwheels over the erotic secret hidden between his ass cheeks.
He closed his office door and hung his suit coat on the hanger. His cock pressed tight against his zipper, and he hoped his lover, Hunter, wouldn’t be delayed. In fifteen minutes, the building would clear out for the day. By then, anticipation would be driving Logan into a sexual frenzy. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the pressure in his crotch, but all that accomplished was delivering a zip of pleasure to his ass.
The ticking clock was as torturous to his nerves as a dripping faucet. He wanted to rip the noisy timepiece off the wall and tear the batteries out. He answered a few benign emails and waited. Impatiently.
A soft knock on the door made his stomach lurch.
He glanced at the time. Perfect. He cleared his throat, intending to sound as authoritative as possible. “Come in.”


Buy Executive Decision NOW:  
Margie's website: Romance with SASS

Monday, June 18, 2012

Coming, June 30th - 'One Plus Two Equals...'

 
'One Plus Two Equals...' - June 30th
 

Out of work waiter Julyan Elwyn gets a job at the restaurant owned by Duane Reives. He is attracted to Duane but tamps it down, believing the man is straight. Then he meets Auden Reviers, a mysterious, tough-as-nails man who takes what he wants, to wit kisses from Julyan.
When Duane reveals he's interested in Julyan, the young man is torn between their blossoming attraction which could turn to love and the conflicted feelings he has for Auden.
All that changes as secrets are revealed and Julyan must learn to trust his heart when it comes to the two men in his life.

Excerpt:
Chapter One

Duane stepped back to look at what he'd accomplished and smiled. The collage on the long wall of his soon-to-open restaurant had come out just as he'd envisioned it. He'd collected pictures of New Orleans from its founding days up until the present, had them copied and blown-up, and then spent too many hours tacking them up to the wall, moving them from place to place and re-tacking them until he'd gotten the balance of color to black and white the way he'd wanted. After adhering them in place he'd used a clear, matte sealer to finish the job.
"Perfect," he murmured happily before setting to work to add objects he'd picked up at the local voodoo shops and antique stores. When they were all hung randomly throughout the collage it would add the third dimension he wanted.
"Whoa, that's fantastic!"
Duane spun around to see one of his newly-hired waiters standing in the open doorway. He grinned and made a sweeping bow. "Thanks. It was work but I think it came out alright."
"More than alright." The young man, Jack if Duane remembered correctly, stepped into the room to check it out. "You have a good eye for atmosphere."
"Again, thanks. What brings you here?"
"Oh. Yeah. I wanted to tell you if you need more help, my roommate just got laid off and could use a job. He's done restaurant work and so…" Jack shrugged.
"Sure, send him along. I still need a couple more waiters just to be on the safe side."
Jack grinned, going back to the door to beckon to someone. Duane eyed the newcomer with a practiced eye when he came into view. He looked to be twenty-three or four at the most, well-dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, with short blond hair. Jack introduced him as 'Julyan, with a 'y'.' Julyan Elwyn.
"Interesting name," Duane commented.
Julyan shrugged, chuckling. "Came with the birth certificate. Seems my mother was a romantic."
"Jack says you need a job?"
"Yes. Rather desperately I'm afraid, what with rent coming due soon. I don't want to take advantage of Jack's friendship any longer than necessary without paying my share."
"Come with me and I'll give you an application. Unless you're a wanted criminal or don't know the difference between jambalaya and gumbo, I'll probably hire you."
Julyan followed Duane into his office. "Native born Louisianan so trust me I know the food and I've paid both my speeding tickets so I doubt there's any wants-and-warrants out for me."
"Both are plusses," Duane replied with a laugh, handing him the application. While he waited for Julyan to fill it out, he did some bookwork he'd been putting off, until his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a minute then hung up. By then Julyan was finished and, after scanning the form, Duane nodded. "I'll check your references of course, but off-hand I'd say you're hired."
"Thank you. Believe me, Jack will appreciate that."
"Are you two… ?" Duane left the question hanging.
Julyan shook his head. "Just friends. We met at the last place we both worked, he needed a roommate and I figured what the hell. Then, two weeks ago he got laid off, which should have been a warning sign. Three days ago, it was my turn. If he didn't have money saved, we'd be out on the street soon."
"Alright, I'll call you."
Obviously taking that as his cue to leave, Julyan did. As soon as he closed the door Duane made a phone call and then returned to the dining room of the restaurant to finish what he'd been doing.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Out in the Rockies Blog Hop - Day 4 with Brannan Black



Hello, and welcome to day 4 of the ‘Out in the Rockies’ Blog Tour! If you missed yesterday's stop, you can find it here http://crysellescraziness.blogspot.com/. Today, I have Brannan Black on my blog, talking about ‘Ravaged’.

* * * * * * * * * *

So what's a menage doing in a M/M blog hop?

Well, it all starts with Mick and Aiden.  They've been friends and lovers for years.  Until Mick gets turned by a nasty vampire.  One mortal isn't enough to feed a young vampire.  So while looking for someone to supplement Mick's diet, Aiden meets a werewolf with problems of her own.

  

‘Ravaged’ by Brannan Black

Art by Zuri


Can Drifa protect Aiden and Mick from the ruling council -- and still satisfy her own hungers?

Blurb: 

Once a year Drifa, a white werewolf, goes into heat. She also plays bass and sings in an up-and-coming rock band. This year her heat comes inconveniently early. They’re on tour, and she can’t just run off and leave her band mates. Especially when a record company is sending out a talent scout. Time to find a lover, and fast. But a single mortal won’t hold up for the four or five days of nearly non-stop sex. What’s a girl wolf to do?


Aiden Jones has worked for “Mick” McNeil at Night Creature Music for years. Aiden’s more than just a talent scout -- he’s Mick’s partner, in bed and out. But one lover’s never enough to feed a vampire. Part of Aiden’s job is to find willing bedmates and blood donors for his newly turned boss. Rule one, no mixing business with dinner. Don’t feed on band members. Ever. But one look at Drifa, one word from her siren lips, and Aiden can’t seem to think straight.


Drifa can’t resist the sexy Aiden, and when she finds he has a willing partner for a three way, she thinks her problems have been solved. But they’re only just beginning. Can she protect Mick from the vampires out for his blood -- and still satisfy her hunger for both Aiden and Mick? 


 

Excerpt NC-17:

This had to be the place. The crowd looked like a cross between bikers and emo goths with a side of hookers. Black leather, tight pants or short skirts and enough eyeliner for the whole city finished off with black boots or spiked heels. I felt sure the ones in skirts and heels must be female but some of the rest would take a closer inspection under better lighting. I made my way around the crowd and flipped open my ID -- Night Creatures Music -- to the bouncer.
"Hey, Dusty, this guy has a reserved table," he leaned in the door to holler at a -- Waitress? Waiter? Hard to tell -- then waved me in.


The band hadn't even taken the stage yet, and the place already groaned with too many bodies. Leather overpowered the smell of bodies and booze but I knew that wouldn't last. Word had gotten around that Ravaged put on one hell of a show, so they could pack a club even on a Thursday night. The waitress led me to a reserved table in the center of the room, near the stage.


"Hate to be a problem, but have you got something to the side?"


"Umm." She scanned the room. "Hang on a moment, let me see if that couple would switch."


A few moments later the thrilled couple had my reserved table down front, and I got to sit with my back to the wall. Not that I'm paranoid or anything. I just hate having eyes staring at my back. OK, so I do worry about someone sneaking up on me. But I'm not paranoid, just prudent. Besides, I could see the reaction of the crowd better, right?

My tequila shot arrived just as the band came out. A guy on guitar, a chick on bass and the much talked about gorgeous woman drummer all filed onto the stage with a wave at the roaring crowd. The drummer started a driving beat I felt deep inside. Her loose black hair flew in rhythm. The bass player added a deep, dark sounding riff. A low rumble came from the guy that quickly climbed in volume to a howling scream. Both women's voices joined in, reaching an earsplitting howl. The lead guitar screamed out an intricate riff then a heartbeat's pause as they shifted into their first song. In seconds, I forgot the other two existed. The bass player's voice wove a silken melody over the driving metal beat. It crawled inside my skin, sending pleasant pulses rippling through me. The rumors hadn't done her voice justice. This wasn't a woman singing -- no, more like an angel, a fallen angel. Rich, deep, and sexy as hell.


I shifted in my seat as a familiar pressure started in my black jeans. From the fidgeting going on in the guys around me, I wasn't the only one. I turned back to the stage and the bass player. Heavy, dark make-up accented her eyes. Those eyes! Smoky outer rings with a center more silver than blue or gray. They met mine, stealing my breath away. 
I felt as if my very soul lay open to her gaze. A slight widening of her eyes and crinkle of her brow were the only signs she actually saw me. She moved on to spear someone else's soul. She used her long, sleek hair to punctuate her song. I'd never seen hair so pale blonde. Even silver didn't describe it. Molten, it picked up colors from the lights and reflected it back in shimmering flashes. Striking. Not model pretty, but striking.


Repeatedly, her gaze returned to me. Each time my cock pulsed with desire, my heart missed a beat, and I felt splayed open for her pleasure. After the first song, I knew my partner would love them. A perfect fit for Night Creatures Music even with most of the first set being covers. The two original songs I'd heard had "Hit Single" written all over them.


They ended the set with an original song, slow and sultry. My pants felt way too tight when her eyes met mine. A slight twitch of her lips and my cock jumped. Shit, Mick's rule number one -- don't sleep with anyone associated with a band, ever.

Once finished with the set, she took a glass of something clear from the waitress. Her eyes found mine again; she slowly sucked the glass down, watching me the whole time. I never knew watching a woman drink could be such a turn on. Her tongue swiped the last drop from her full bottom lip. I almost creamed my pants. Those lips twitched into a smile. Fuck, what would it feel like to have those petal-pink lips wrapped around my cock? Might have to rethink that rule about sex with the band.


The waitress pointed at me. The bass player raised her eyebrows, and an almost disappointed look crossed her face. I could only wonder what caused that look. Maybe sexy bass players had a rule about not dating record company guys.

I stood as the band approached.


The tall, lean guitarist held out his long-fingered hand. "Hi. I'm Tory, this is Tamara and Drifa. You're here from Night Creatures?"


I shook Tory's hand. "That's right. Aiden." Tamara and Tory looked much alike, with blue-black hair, golden brown eyes, and light tans. From their features, I suspected some Asian blood. Tamara, tall, lean and model pretty, gripped my hand firmly. The muscles on her arms rippled more like a body builder than a model. Guess that came from pounding on drums all day.


Finally, I turned my attention to Drifa. The touch of her hand sent a shock up my arm and down my veins to settle in my already hard cock. The flutter of her eyelashes told me she felt it too. Damn, I didn't need this kind of trouble! Sweet, hot, and sweaty trouble. I bit back a groan. Might not need it but I sure as hell wanted it. "Have a seat." I gestured to the table. "I liked what I've seen so far, and I'm not the only one liking it. If you're interested, we could get together and talk business somewhere quiet tomorrow."


"Sounds good." Tory leaned forward. "You should know that others have approached us to produce our music. We turned them down. We're not looking to go pop."


I couldn't resist a wicked smile. "Good. We don't do pop."


"And I'm not the band. We're a group, not a singer." Drifa tilted her head slightly with a challenge clear in her pale eyes.


"That's good to know. We prefer bands that work well together." I couldn't resist staring into those freaky, silver-blue eyes. My cock throbbed insistently. "Here's my card. Give me a call."
 


Read the first chapter at D. Renee Bagby's First Chapters  http://www.drb1stchp.com/2012/06/ravaged-by-brannan-black.html?zx=c120777b13a173ad


Brennan Black is giving away a free download of any Changeling title. Leave a comment to enter.


Tomorrow, the tour continues at
http://crysellescraziness.blogspot.com/.

You can find the entire ‘Out in the Rockies’ schedule at http://mariesexton.net/out-in-the-rockies-blog-hop. Don't forget that every comment you leave enters you into our grand prize drawing for a $120 gift card to either Amazon or All Romance Ebooks, so please tell your friends, follow along and comment often!

Monday, June 11, 2012

Out in the Rockies blog hop schedule


Eight Colorado authors of gay romance are teaming up to bring you Out in the Rockies. We’ll have all sorts of prizes along the way, including a $120 gift card to Amazon or All Romance Ebooks. We hope you’ll follow along!
June 11: Marie Sexton
June 14: Edward Kendrick
June 15: Cryselle’s Bookshelf, redux
June 16: P.D. Singer
June 17: Caitlin Ricci
June 19: Amara’s Place
June 20: Brannan Black
June 21: Joyfully Jay
June 22: George Seaton
June 24: Carter Quinn

* * * * * * * * * *


Participating authors:
George Seaton
Carter Quinn
Michelle L. Montgomery
P.D. Singer
Brannan Black
Edward Kendrick
Caitlin Ricci
Marie Sexton

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Welcome S.A. Garcia & Fabion


Fabion Under the Spotlight: Part Two



This past Sunday, June 3rd, Fabion started his interview with me at Dawn Roberto’s Reading Nook. (Part one is here) Once Fabion wandered off to the bathroom, he escaped back into his bedroom. I did not want to track him in there, not with all the noise he made with his lover King Henda.

Now Fabion has managed to extract himself from bed. He’s ready to answer more silly questions. Fabion, really, aren’t you two afraid you’re going to break something?

FABION: “Break something? Hell yeah, my big dude might break me into itty bitty sexy pieces. I’m not worried; he’ll glue me back together again because he’s the super talented big dude.”

S.A.G.: Glad to hear you don’t plan a fatal Humpty Dumpty.

Fabion: “No way. You need me around so I can enjoy another adventure, right?”

S.A.G.: Don’t get too full of yourself. There’s another Elf waiting in line ahead of you.

Fabion: “Yeah, yeah, I know poor Alasdaire whines at you to finish his plot. Just don’t give him any more scars. The poor Elf already looks like Frankenelf.”

S.A.G.: Fabion!

Fabion: “Hey, boss, it’s true. He’s got scars on his face, his back, his wrists… ease up on the poor dude.”

S.A.G.: You just stepped into a new question. Would you rather have an ugly scar across your face or lose 15 points of intelligence?

Fabion: “Aw hell, easy one. I already said I think I’m pretty bright, so I’d go for the intelligence loss. Hey, loosing mental points won’t make me any less creative in the bedroom, right? I know my big dude wouldn’t care about any stupid scar, but I would care since I want to give him the best, got me? He doesn’t deserve to look at a scar.”

S.A.G.: That’s one way to think about the matter. Would you care if Henda had—

Fabion: “Nope. I might not be real happy if his cock drops off, but he could have a freakin’ novel tattooed across his face and I wouldn’t care. That’s the thing, he has been in serious battles and there’s not a mark on him. I know we heal super fast but I tell you, nothing spoils his flesh. By now I’ve inspected every inch. Henda owns perfect, lickable skin. Yummy-yum-yum.”

S.A.G.: Hold on, no running back to the bedroom again. Since we are talking about Elves, why do you think there so many variations on what an Elf looks like?

Fabion: “You mean like my kind of Elf, sexy, svelte and hot, opposed to something like a Keebler elf? Humans do have a range of weird conceptions about Elves. Why is that? They’re either cute and live in trees, or wicked, evil critters who like run around stealing babies or yeah, noble powerhouses like me. I never have understood it.”

S.A.G.: I’m all for your kind.

Fabion: “But you wrote Alasdaire as a downtrodden bed slave. His Elven race is abused and banished.”

S.A.G.: Yes, and aren’t you glad you’re not in his world?

Fabion: “Fuck yeah. The Stone Age has a few, well, lots of problems but as long as I have the Big Dude at my side, everything is peachy-keen.”

S.A.G.: Time for a silly question. Why is a carrot more orange than an orange?

Fabion: “Because it’s shaped like a cock.”

S.A.G.: Not following your logic here.

Fabion: “A carrot is cock-shaped, which is means it has tons of primo confidence. It knows it’s more orange than an orange, but the carrot feels sorry for the drab, round orange, so the carrot lets the fruit claim the color. Get it?”

S.A.G.: To my surprise I do. Okay. Anything that has a cock shape has confidence?

Fabion: “Why not? A cock is pretty damned special. Hey, I am not knocking the female bits, okay? That’s special if you like that sorta thing. I’ve always been all about the carrot, the cucumber, the sausage, the wiener, the zucchini, get my drift?”

S.A.G.: Yep, the drift knocked me over. Here’s a little teaser. If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?

Fabion: “The only time I try to fail is if the big dude starts acting cute and chases me around the suite. Naturally, I put up a little resistance, but I always let him tackle me. To me, that counts as sexy success.”

S.A.G.: If you could add an extra appendage to your body, what would you select? And no, a cock isn’t on the list.

Fabion: “Awww, you know me all too well although limping around with two cocks sounds a little excessive. I’d like a third arm but only if it was more like something I could tuck away when I didn’t need it.”

S.A.G.: Something more along the lines of a tentacle?

Fabion: “Urrrgh, no, just something I can whip out when I want to give Henda a bigger thrill.”

S.A.G.: Can you cry under water?

Fabion: “Absolutely. Why not? I sure as shit started crying when I thought I might drown battling the big, bitchy waves. The trouble is you can’t do the snotty choke cry or things start getting nasty in shitstorm speed.”

S.A.G.: How scary. I know you’ll love this question. If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Fabion: “Ha! Considering that mostly morons nitpick about morality, that sounds good to me. To me, morality is try your hardest not to act like a total asshole and don’t murder anyone, well, unless it’s in self-defense or during a battle. The whole do unto others jazz, right? Granted when I was a supermodel, I tended to act less moral than I do now, but I never went out of my way to hurt anyone first. I reacted when acted upon. I’m not real big on turning the other cheek. I mean why, so some asshole can slap both cheeks? The only cheek slapping I dig is on my sweet ass. Wait, where am I going with this? Geesh, fuck, I’m confusing myself. Hey, did you already take those 15 points of brain power away from me?”

S.A.G.: Not at all. I understood where you went there. You’re correct, too many people want to impose their sense of morality on everyone.

Fabion: “And that pisses me right the fuck off. Geesh, am I flushed? I feel all hot and bothered.”

S.A.G.: You look fine. Here’s a really silly question for you. Why is it that night falls, but day breaks?

Fabion: “Hey, I like that one. Night falls because it’s heavy and dark. Night falls down from the sky and pushes the sun from the horizon. Ya know how there’s just that little sun glimmer before night takes over? That is falling. Day breaks because it busts apart the night. Day sends snappy sunrays out to tell night to break up and scram.”

S.A.G.: Watch out, you almost sound poetic.

Fabion: “Hey, now that I have merged with AF, I can talk fancy with the best of them. Whoops, I better not reveal top secret details.”

S.A.G.: That’s fine. A few reviews have already talked about AF.

Fabion: “Reviews? We have reviews? Hot damn, you need to let me see them. Do they love me? How many stars?”

S.A.G.: Yes, they love you. Two nice four and five star reviews.

Fabion: “Ha! Take that, Amando. He got what, one little three star review? Oh yeah, who’s the sexy star, that’s me, un-huh, go me, un-huh, I rock, un-huh.”

S.A.G.: Please, are you two going to start strutting again?

Fabion: “Amando sashays. I strut, un-huh, strut in style, un-huh.”

S.A.G.: Great, now Amando will harass me about why I never interviewed him. I am in such deep shit now.

Fabion: “Sorry. Come on, really, I’ll interview him.”

S.A.G.: “More like antagonize him. Listen, if you are serious about interviewing him, promise to be nice to him.”

Fabion: “Cross my heart and all that other jazz. Hey, are we almost finished?”

S.A.G.: One more and I will let you run back to bed. What do you believe will last forever?

Fabion: “Hell, that is easy-peasy. My love for the big dude. I mean the stars can fall from the sky, the planets collide, all that nasty shit, but our love will still be there. Henda and I are solid gold forever.”

S.A.G.: That sounds like a lovely ending. Thanks for cooperating, Fabion.

Fabion: “Hey, you are da boss. I know what comes next… the excerpt! Can I pick one?”

S.A.G.: Go ahead, surprise me.

Fabion: “Coolio. Let’s see, hmm, okay, got it! Bye, everyone! See you around.”




BLURB:
Elven super model Prince Fabion's day is perfect until wizard Matradorian kidnaps him from his penthouse. Surprise, Fabion is a spiritual match for elf king Henda’s dead lover. Only he can save the dying Henda. The problem is Fabion lives in the thirty-ninth century. Henda lives in the nineteenth.

When he lands in the nineteenth century, Fabion controls himself from punching Matradorian, saves Henda and falls in instant lust with his romantic fantasy. After all, this is a romantic comedy.

When Fabion realizes his polluted, on the verge of ruin thirty-ninth century is gone, the super model pitches the temper tantrum of any century until he realizes sexy Henda accepts him as his true lover. Being the virile, handsome Henda's lover fills Fabion's emotional gap. Despite the lack of facials and hot water, the former super model adapts to living in the backwards century.

Soon Fabion learns the nineteenth century is more dangerous than his vanished thirty-ninth century. Who wants to kill him now? And why?

Excerpt:

Ding-dong! Fabion's already strained heart began racing toward an unknown winner's circle. Thump-a-thump-a-ling-long. No fuckin' way!
The pale dude quietly resting on the incredible bed was the dude Fabion had always enjoyed in his wet, late night fantasies. Talk about a dream come true!
Drool. Better yet, talk about dead sexy. Even when silent and unmoving, the elf lying on the grand bed looked tastier than all of Fabion's many lovers put together. This king provided a more mature, err, sterner–-yeah, that was the damned word–-version of his lovely sons. Wisdom and power were etched into his pale face. Normally any wrinkles made the hypercritical Fabion run screaming into the distance, but not this time. The age lines added depth to the male's supremely handsome face. How startling. Watch out, world, Fabion might fall for someone who had never hid his facial lines with chemical peels, inserts, or surgery. No way.
The elf king defined hot, although right now Henda appeared too damned cold and pale. If someone placed a white marble slab next to Henda's muscular body, the marble would blend in. If anyone tried such a stunt, Fabion vowed to kick them.
The long, black hair flowing behind Henda's noble head and the violet sheet tucked around his spectacular body emphasized his intense paleness. The dude looked sensational even while slipping away.
What a sad concept.
Fabion needed a quick mental distraction to keep him from hyperventilating. What a damned gorgeous headboard. A skilled artist had forced solid wood into a turbulent fantasy featuring beckoning orchids, crashing waves, fern fronds, and twining ivy. Killer. Why didn't Fabion own such a super headboard? The dramatic style suited his legendary beauty. He wanted one exactly like the creation for his bed.
Good, his breath stopped emerging in frantic puffs. Fabion crept forward. His lusting gaze examined the immobile elf.
"Hello, my Henda. After years of delicious, wet fantasy desire, we finally meet. You are real. Imagine the crazy concept. At least I think you're real. This might be a first-class hallucination."
Before he realized what he did, Fabion's trembling fingers unlaced his tight silk tunic. His instinctive response urged him to strip naked and jump into bed with his eternal, elven fantasy.
How had sly Mr. Fuckface sensed Fabion's desire to perform the ultimate deed? What a slick, old manipulator!
Bizarro. No time for messing around. He realized he needed to perform a miracle or else this magnificent elf would cease to exist. Talk about a fuckin' shame. A turned-on Fabion desired those stern, royal lips nuzzling against his own perfect body. Hmm, did pure, raw lust supply enough zip to revive this glorious male? Fabion hoped so. Imagine, his fabulous fantasy male waited for him. Kicky!
Damned intricate laces! They teamed with the relentless trembling infecting his fingers and tried to defeat his effort. The frustrated Fabion released a teakettle-worthy hiss. He anxiously yanked and tugged until his fingers tossed his ripped tunic to the floor. What a waste of a bitchin' garment. Well, in times of need, one sucked up fashion sacrifices. No worries, old Mr. Fuckface and his magic staff guaranteed Fabion a new tunic.
Fabion sat on the bed and peeled down his snug leggings. Mattie hadn't provided Fabion with any underwear. What an old letch! After he undid his radically cool boots, Fabion shoved everything to the floor.
Yikes! Fresh hyperventilation almost set in. Frantic thoughts tumbled into Fabion's dizzy mind. Yes, I sit on the bed. I sit on Henda's totally opulent bed. My divine ass cuddles into his super-superior feather mattress. How many times did I fantasize about crawling into Henda's grand bed and letting him fuck me six times to sideways? Wwooow.
Although Fabion's usually wild imagination had missed exact details like Henda's killer carved bed being giant enough to host an elven orgy. Fabion had never imagined anyone but handsome Henda performing the honors. In his fantasy world, the free love-supporting Fabion always acted bitchin' loyal to the big dude. Cheating on anyone in Henda's stellar rank sounded brainless.
Okay, today the fucking option didn't own a chance. The disturbingly motionless Henda didn't seem capable of fucking anything, especially not death. Death needed to get fucked. Fabion did not intend to let the bony bastard steal Henda. Death needed to find his own classy king to cuddle.
Big, brave attitude helped in a fashion shoot, but how could Fabion trump Death? Challenge him to a strut-off?
Unwelcome tremors jerked Fabion's tense muscles in different directions. So not cool. He despised his nasty inadequacy. Did a loving touch activate the special, bring-back-Henda magic? The tremors intensified enough to twitch Fabion's fingers. He needed to try the simple solution.
Fabion's dancing fingers reached out and caressed firm chest flesh. Yikes! Pained surprise lashed at Fabion's senses. He jerked his fingers back and held them against his warm chest. Henda imitated an elf-shaped ice block. How wicked. What a seriously bad problem.
This poor, chilly elf needed intense warming up. Time to perform full-body contact. Fabion winced. Ugly discomfort cavorted before him in malicious glee.
Too bad. Fabion's fingers pulled away the silk sheet's light weave from Henda's pale flesh. The airy material imitated gossamer web. Classy. Yummy, those tight abs demanded praise. Reaaalll sweet. Jackpot. Fabion's sweet dreams hadn't lied. This powerful elf displayed masculine might. Luxurious, black hair framed Henda's potent cock. Super impressive. The dude even had sexy pubic hair. Fabulosity plus. The king's flawless, muscle-corded thighs deserved an award. Fabion carried a definite torch for muscular thighs, especially since his thighs dwelled on the skimpy side. Blame genetics. The sensible Fabion never appreciated exercise unless he sprawled naked and panting in bed.
This ancient dude even displayed good-looking feet. Please, how many breathing creatures sported handsome, little toes? King Henda offered Fabion total top-shelf, elven, male perfection or something along those flowery lines. Geesh, looking at Henda invited Fabion to pile on the compliments.
Enough admiring. One-two-three now go! Fabion shifted on the soft bed. He slithered close until his hip met Henda's. When Henda's cold flesh made contact with his warmth, Fabion writhed in disgust. Aiiii-yiii-yiii-ee-oo-ahh-ooo! Shiiittt! Poor Henda felt beyond frigid. How did this near-frozen elf still live?
Henda's chest moved up and down at a vastly slow rate. Fabion counted to eight between Henda's shallow breaths. Seriously bad. Deathly bad.

Thanks for reading and thanks for Edward for hosting today’s Q & A.

Who Am I?

Thirty years ago, I started writing m/m romance. My writing remained a secret lest my friends thought me a freak. Writing about men inserting tab A into slot B didn’t seem the norm for a female teenager. Reading Gordon Merrick, John Rechy and Larry Kramer helped me fill in informational gaps. Yes, I read those books only in my bedroom.

As the years progressed and I discovered my sexual path, I still wrote m/m romance, although the stories progressed from lurking in notebooks to hiding on the computer.

Now I am glad I kept the writing faith. Five published novellas and novels later, my life is a fun quandary of too many stories hindered by slow typing skills. I accept the silly challenge.




Facebook: Sandra Ann Garcia

Twitter: @SAGarcia_Writer