Friday, November 28, 2008

Scars by Jessica Freely

Blurb: In Scars, David and Seth begin to experience repercussions from the night they met. The police have found the body of the gang member Seth killed to protect David, and the other gang members are out for revenge. David's employer, Mr. Haverstock, is keeping tabs on the case and is asking David a lot of questions. When new information that links Seth to a prior murder is revealed, David's trust in Seth is tested. Meanwhile, Seth's search for a job hits a major snag and he resorts to old habits. David's quest to learn the truth about Seth's past may uncover more than he wants to know.

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Closing up the book shop, David marveled at what a difference a day could make. Yesterday at this time he'd been bored, lonely, about to be… He shook his head and focused on Seth, standing by the door, waiting for him. Now he had someone to walk home with, someone to make love with, someone to share his home and his life with. All of his fantasy men from the books he read -- Scaramouche, d'Artagnon, Sakr-el-Bahr -- paled in comparison to the flesh and blood reality of his true hero, Seth.

As they walked home David took comfort in Seth's proximity. He was tired now, and the euphoria from the sex was dying down and they were coming up on the place where it had happened.

Seth, as if sensing David’s unease, edged closer to him. "It's okay."

David nodded. "I know." And he did. The empty lot next to the Stamping Plant brought back bad memories, but he knew he was safe with Seth. His real fear was not for himself. "But… the cops were investigating this morning. Mr. Haverstock told me."

Their feet echoed on the pavement as Seth became even more quiet than usual. At length he sighed. "I guess that was bound to happen."

Even though there was no one around, David lowered his voice. "We should have disposed of the body somehow. I never even thought of that."

Seth shrugged. "Me neither but then, I didn't expect… Anyway, don't worry about it. The only person who can ID me is you."

"What about those other two guys, the ones who ran away?"

"No," said Seth. "They're Lions."

"The gang?"

"Yeah. They won't go to the cops. They handle a thing like this themse--"

For the first time since the night before, true terror gripped David by the guts. "Shit!"

Seth waved his hands. "It's okay. No, no. Don't worry."

David grabbed Seth by the arm and started dragging him at a trot. "Let's go." He looked up and down the street. It was empty, which was not unusual at this time of night. What with the economy around here, a lot of people had moved out of state. Vacant lots and abandoned buildings were as common as occupied ones.

Seth refused to be dragged. He continued to walk at a normal pace as David tugged on his arm like a yappy dog. "You're only calling attention to us."

He was right. David went back to walking normally, beside him, but he kept scanning the street. "You need new clothes, and a shave. And tie your hair back so you won't look the same. Anybody's looking for you, they'll be looking for a homeless guy. Not you."
"…they'll be looking for a homeless guy. Not you."

Seth bit back a gasp of surprise. In wonderment, he let those incredible words sink in. The night was dark and chilly, and dangerous, but it was as if he and David walked in a little bubble of warm light. His body, still filled with pleasure from their lovemaking, felt relaxed and the cool air felt good on his skin. David was beside him, whole and unharmed and real. This was real.

When he thought of what he had escaped from, and what he had settled for, walking home with David like this was far beyond anything thing he could have imagined or hoped for.

They came to the apartment building and David fished the key out of his pocket. "I'll have to get another one made," he said with a smile.

Seth smiled back and tried to ignore the sudden thickness in his throat. He didn't want to waste another single moment on tears. He'd nearly cried again after their lovemaking tonight. Surely, David was getting sick of that. It was just that this was so new, so different from anything he'd expected. It was all such a beautiful dream, and of course, Seth knew that they'd awake from it eventually. Something would put a stop to this -- the police, the Lions, the differences between them. But for now, he wanted to savor every second of this special time.

David opened the door and Seth followed him into the small apartment made even tinier by the shelves and shelves of books lining nearly every wall. They shed their jackets and draped them over the arm of the large, overstuffed armchair in the living room. David turned to him and wrapped his arms around Seth's waist and it was the most natural thing in the world for Seth to circle David's shoulders with his arms. The two of them fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. Seth smiled and shook his head, silently laughing at his own sappiness.

David tilted his head, looking up at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Just… everything."

David's smile was tender, his laugh understanding. "I know what you mean."

Surprise made Seth blink. Could it be that this turn of events was just as unexpected and precious for David as it was for him? He thought of David living alone here with his books. As yet there'd been no mention any family or friends. Looking at David now, he saw the loneliness in his eyes, the longing. There was only one answer.

Seth bent his head and captured David's mouth in a kiss. Soft and tender, their lips caressed each other and their tongues met in a sweet, slippery dance of taste and touch. They wrapped their arms around one another tighter, bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened, as they drank from one another all the love, companionship and desire they longed to give and receive.

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Thursday, November 20, 2008

The Coldest Kiss by Joanna Wylde

ISBN: 978-1-59632-825-9


Nobody dies tonight.The words trauma nurse Summer Kelly found written in the steam on her bathroom mirror make no sense, and they disappear as quickly as the phantom lover of her dreams. How could she know that Death himself has fallen in love with her? And how could she resist him? He's perfect in every way, from his incredible physique to the slightly-tilted slant of his exotic eyes.He'll make her body sing, leave her begging her for his touch, and all she has to give up to be with him forever is...her life. It's time for Summer to decide -- will she accept the Coldest Kiss?

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Graphic trauma center situations.


October 30, 3:00 p.m.

Summer's lover leaned back against the pillow, reaching out with one hand to touch her cheek. She nuzzled him, allowing her gazes to run over his form. Light hair, just long enough to look a little shaggy. Chiseled features, with high cheekbones and eyes holding a touch of Asia.
And then there was his body.

Dear lord, his body… She'd never met anyone built like that before, just like someone out of the movies. Smooth muscles worked under nearly hairless skin. Buff without being bulky, he had the look of a man who could run for miles, swim forever, capable of chasing down anyone without even trying. How she wound up with him she had no idea, but she'd be damned if she'd ever let him go.

He ran his finger along her chin and then reached up, tripping it across her lips. She gave a low, throaty chuckle, catching it in her mouth. She sucked it in, tasting the slightly salty essence of him overlaid with her own musky juices. He'd had that finger in her earlier, and just the thought of it was enough to make her wet.

Damn, the things he knew how to do with that finger.

Summer suckled him deeper, willing him to sense through her mouth how much she wanted him, how he made her complete, how his very scent made her want to crawl deep into his body and stay there forever. She reached down with one hand under the sheets, following the hard line of his abs to the hard length of his cock already rising under the soft fabric. Mmmm, that's the stuff. Hot, hardening quickly. She felt along his smooth length, musing for the thousandth time at the contrast between the hardening bulk under his still slightly loose skin. She played the loose skin a bit, rubbing it against the stiffness underneath until there was no give left in his flesh.

He sighed, leaning back and allowing his eyes to close. They both knew her next move.
She pulled her head away from his hand, allowing the finger to slowly slide free. He smiled softly, anticipating. Then she leaned over him, kissing his lips, his chin, the soft skin at the base of his neck. Just the slightest bit of stubble, not enough to be rough against her flesh, but enough to remind her that before her lay a true male. He might allow himself to remain passive, but she knew just how much coiled strength his form held. He lifted his hands up to her shoulders, kneading them, offering her the slightest bit of pressure downward. She gave a low laugh, filled with the power of a woman who knows how much she's wanted.

"You know the rules. Don't get greedy," she said, shrugging him off. At the same time she gave his penis a bit of a squeeze, emphasizing her point. He nodded, that satisfied smile growing broader. They both knew how to play this little game; they'd been together forever, each day building on the next.

She kissed down his chest, his skin scraping slightly against her moistened lips. Shoulder blade, the edge of his pectoral, and then dusting around one nipple. She saw the small, brown flesh there tighten, little nubs ringing it as he stiffened up. His penis hardened under her fingers, and he gave a little groan. Summer's tongue flicked out, playing with the nipple. The muscles of his chest went hard with tension and she knew she'd pushed him almost too far.


She allowed her tongue to trail away from the nipple, following the hollow between his pecs down to his stomach, licking over the ridges of his taut abdominal muscles. She paused at his navel, tongue darting in, and then gave another throaty laugh as his already tense body tightened further. Without further teasing, she dropped her head and pulled his cock into her mouth, sucking it in deeply. She tasted him, traces of the salty sweet seed she knew he longed to spill into her body. Yum. Twice now he'd come, but the man was unstoppable, always ready to share himself with her.

She bobbed her head up and down on him, sucking in and letting go, working with her tongue to give him as much pleasure as he'd given her this evening. Love filled her heart, spilling over throughout her entire being. She wondered if a woman could burst from love, from the profound sense of joy and excitement that came from being with the person who formed the other half of your soul.

He groaned and his hips bucked up under her mouth. She pulled him in once more and then --
-- the scream of her alarm clock broke the moment. She looked up at him, panicky, and found nothing. Instead her eyes snapped open on an empty bedroom in a cheap apartment.

Reality set in.

Another fucking dream, and they always ended just as things were going to get really good. Well, not always, but still… How bloody unfair was that? And why did they all have to be about that creepy guy at the hospital? Although to be fair, he wasn't actually creepy, he was hotter than hell. She saw him in the ER all the time, but never could figure out what he did. Not a medical professional, he always wore a suit. Nobody else seemed to notice him, or at least they never mentioned him. Probably a lawyer; they liked trauma centers. Vultures, all of them. Every accident was just a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The hot water of the shower did nothing to improve her mood. She certainly felt as sore as she might after a night of intense sex, and she stretched her limbs, feeling them creak and pop. This must be part of aging. She'd be thirty this year, and while it hadn't ever seemed that old, maybe this was the first sign.

Summer stepped out of the shower, and stood looking at the mirror blearily. Everything would be fuzzy until she got her contacts in for the day, but there was something weird about the misty surface. She leaned in, peering like an owl, feeling positively elderly. Was it her imagination, or was there something written on it?

Dear God, there was. Clearly, as if someone had dragged a finger through the condensation.
Nobody dies tonight.

She blinked, fumbling for her glasses to double check. Nothing but steam covered the mirror. No words, just one crazy woman peering around like a deranged owl. Lovely. Horny and losing her mind -- just the right way to start the day. Hopefully things would be better once she got to the hospital. Her patients needed the best she had to offer.

Copyright 2008, Joanna Wylde

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Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Virgin by Jessica Freely

Virgin by Jessica Freely

ISBN: 978-1-59632-741-2

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Blurb: Joam is an eighteen-year-old auto mechanic whose cruel boss barely pays him enough to live on. He sleeps on a cot in the back of the shop and dreams of making love with a hot cowboy, but he can't let anyone know he's gay, and his boss has other reasons for keeping him a virgin. Then one day Joam's fantasy boy walks into the shop and Joam discovers that in order to free himself and protect his newfound love, he needs to embrace the very things he's worked hardest to hide.

Dressed in tight cutoffs, a midriff T-shirt, and a straw cowboy hat, Blake was the spitting image of Joam’s fantasy, an imaginary cowboy who rode into his dreams nightly. His erection was back. Had Blake noticed? Was he even gay? He looked gay but appearances could be deceiving.

He struggled with the issue all the way back to Beulah. Even if Blake was gay, he probably wouldn't want him; and if he was a hustler, as Joam suspected, there was no money to pay for sex. Fresh anger at Higgs shot through him. He was going to miss out on probably his one and only opportunity to have sex with a real live man and it was all because of that asshole.

But wait…Blake had said he didn't have much money. That meant he didn't have much money for the car repairs either… Maybe they could work something out…

If Joam ever got up the nerve to say something. They were almost in town already. Come on, he thought. A second ago you were ready to go a week without food for the sake of getting it on with this guy, what's the hold up? Afraid he'll say no? What's another humiliation in the greater scheme of things? And he's a stranger -- he'll be gone soon, taking your secret with him. There'll never be a better chance. "Why are you dressed like that?" he blurted.

All this time Blake had been silent, looking out the window, seemingly at ease, but now he tensed. There was a pause. At last he said, "I had to leave town in a hurry. I didn't have time to change."

Joam tried to ignore his disappointment. "So that's not what you usually wear? You were at a costume party or something?"

Blake laughed, but it wasn't a mean laugh. Joam knew it wasn't a laugh at him even before Blake said, "Oh my god. I'm sorry. It's just this situation. This is just so… Look. You seem like a decent guy, Joam, so I'm just going to tell you the truth and trust that you're not going to beat me up and leave me by the side of the road --”

Joam just managed to stifle a gasp. Blake thought he might hurt him? He'd been in the doorway of the office. Had he seen Joam with the chair? Had he seen more? Joam had thought nothing more had happened but there was no way to be sure. He turned to look at Blake just as Blake was finishing his sentence.

"-- I'm a hustler. A gay hustler."

Joam couldn't help it. He smiled then forced himself to look back at the road. They were in town now, just passing Sam's. "Don't worry," he said. "You've been nice to me. You shared your food with me. I would never hurt you. I --" He glanced over again, his last words unspoken. I want to make love with you.

The worry lines creasing Blake's forehead relaxed. He smiled back. "You're a good guy, Joam. I'm lucky I found you."

Sweating, Joam brought the truck to a stop at the blinking red light. The way Blake was looking at him -- so open and friendly -- he felt…seen, for the first time since his mom died. This was better than Jasper January. Suddenly brave, he said, "I don't have any money, but…I could fix your car for free."

Blake blinked in surprise.

Not wanting to see the distaste in his face, Joam looked away and concentrated on pulling the truck into the parking lot of the service station. What was he doing? What if Blake agreed but only because he had no choice? What was he going to do then? Let Blake "service" him because he held the power of car repair over him? Was that what he wanted?

Blake's tenor voice came to him, sweet and warm. "I think I understand what you're suggesting, Joam, and I think that would be lovely."

The words unleashed a torrent of emotion inside him and undid the last of his restraint. Lovely! He slammed the truck into park, heedless of the Olds on the hitch, which lurched forward with a crunch and a splintering of glass. The headlights. Fuck it. Higgs had some good ones, he'd steal 'em and install them when he did the other repair. His hands shook as he fumbled with his seatbelt and at last got it off.

He threw himself across the seat, grabbed Blake by the shoulders and kissed him hard. Blake's lips were soft and his stubble scraped against Joam's cheek, igniting every nerve in his face. Blake's shoulders beneath his hands were round and hard, like twin boulders. Their mutual arousal perfumed the close air of the truck cab and made Joam drunk. His dick, already sore from near-constant arousal, throbbed painfully. He took a deep breath and fought for control. It would be so easy to lose himself. As if of their own volition, his hands sought out the fly of Blake's shorts. "What…what do we do first?"

Blake's hands, warm and strong, closed over his fingers and squeezed, stilling their frantic efforts. "First, we go someplace private. Is there someplace we can go where we won't be interrupted?"

His heart sank, thinking of his cot. He didn't even have a curtain to close off the corner. Higgs could come in at any time and find them. Frustration brought tears to his eyes.

"Hey," Blake's voice was as gentle as the hand that stroked the side of his face. "What about that motel you mentioned? Could we go there?"

"I don’t have any money."

"I have enough, for tonight anyway."

Joam blinked, disbelieving. "But you're… I'm supposed to pay you."

"You're going to fix my car, remember? Besides, I'm going to have to pay for the room anyway. I need a place to sleep tonight." Blake's voice and his gentle hands calmed Joam. "It's okay."

Joam believed him.
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