Monday, December 13, 2010

Butterfly's Child by Alan Chin



Butterfly’s Child by Alan Chin
Published by Dreamspinner Press
Pages: 274
Buy Link: http://tinyurl.com/22jzvve

A few years ago, while there was considerable controversy about gay couples adopting children in some southern states, I decided I needed to write something regarding gay-parented families. I wanted to make a statement that traditional, straight parents did not necessarily provide a better environment for children, and that gay couples could provide a stable, loving atmosphere where kids could flourish. This is a story I slowly, but assuredly fell in love with through the telling – mostly because of the kids.

Blurb:
While back in the West to attend his grandmother’s funeral, Cord Bridger uncovers two shocking revelations: his grandmother had a lesbian lover named Juanita, and he has a teenaged son named Kalin. Fate brings all three together, but to preserve his new family, Cord must leave his safe life in New York City behind to carve a living from the harsh ranch lands of Nevada.

To forge a life with Juanita and Kalin, Cord must first discover the dark secret burning a hole in Kalin’s heart. With the help of Tomeo, a handsome Japanese veterinarian, Cord travels a gut-wrenching road of triumphs and tragedies to insure his son will survive the sinister violence of his past. But as Tomeo becomes more than just a helpful friend to Cord, a new set of problems arise between Cord and Kalin that may threaten the happiness of them all.

Excerpt:
Cord moseyed back to the porch swing and stayed there long after the rain had stopped and the boys had gone to bed. A lustrous sheen spread over the workyard as the moon peeked through the clouds. The light grew brighter as the clouds parted, revealing a full and lovely silver face and throwing down bushels of light.

The Jeep pulled into the workyard and parked at the stone house. Tomeo went inside, but he left the front door half open. A minute later a yellow light brightened the interior, and Tomeo placed the lamp near the front window.

Cord was thankful Tomeo didn’t restart the generator to have electric lights. The lamplight glow brought a quiet comfort. A figure in the window drew Cord’s attention.

Tomeo stood with the curtains falling against his bare shoulder. He had shed his shirt and leaned against the window frame. Cord studied the column of his neck, the curve of his shoulders. His gaze traveled down the length of slender torso to find a patch of white hugging the man’s waist. Yes, he had stripped down to his briefs. A smile adorned his face, which meant he knew Cord sat in the shadows, watching. His left arm raised and curled above his head, posing.

Cord sucked in his breath and held it. The lamplight turned the slightly muscular frame amber. It was the sexiest thing Cord had ever seen. It felt like a cool river flowing through the middle of his chest.

Tomeo moved away from the window, but Cord kept staring, hoping he would slip back into view.

A minute later the yellow lamplight moved to the bedroom window, spilling across the workyard. The front door still hung open. Cord’s eyes went from the door, to the bedroom window, to the door. His heart was not even thumping; the invitation was clear enough. They had come to a silent understanding by using the ancient language of flirting.

Cord hesitated another moment, listening inside the big house to insure everything was as it should be. He stood, still trying to decide what to do. He heard a window opening upstairs. He cocked his head, listening to the slight stirring from the boys. That was enough to cast a shadow of reservation across Tomeo’s open door. Still, the prospect of making love to that sexy man pulled at him—the intimate comfort, the pleasurable sharing of flesh and feelings. So intimate, so pleasurable, that he knew he would not cross the workyard.

He retreated to his own bedroom, stripped off his clothes, and settled under the top sheet. Was it absurd, he wondered, to throw away a relationship with Tomeo in order not to damage his fragile relationship with the boys? Could Tomeo be some sort of wedge? Possibly—as much progress as he and Kalin had made, their relationship was not wedge-proof.

He felt confident he had made the right decision. However, he was too excited to sleep. He lay awake in the darkness, naked, covered by the sheet. The thought of Tomeo so close, stripped to his cotton briefs, had his mind sizzling. He imagined pressing his cheek to that soft fabric, nuzzling the hardness hidden beneath. He felt his flesh turn electric; hot sensations gathered in his groin. He shook the thoughts from his head before his hand reached for his own erection.

He glanced at the nightstand. There in the moonlight, barely visible, was a book: another of Tomeo’s texts on Buddhism. His scattered readings and occasional attempts at meditation had not made him the least bit mindful. When he read the text, he thought he understood the theory—nothing is permanent, everything is in a constant state of change until it breaks down and dies, and this is why attachment to things causes suffering. But he thought about the boys asleep above him, and he wondered what was so damned wrong with attachments? Why shouldn’t we allow ourselves to love wholly and break our hearts when it changes, fades, and dies? Isn’t the ecstasy worth the pain? Or is there a middle ground? He had so many questions the book failed to answer. He wanted to talk this over with Tomeo because he felt he must be barreling down the wrong path. But he remembered the Buddha’s last remarks: be your own light, work out your own salvation with diligence.

As he stared up at the dark ceiling, he heard the back door creak, footsteps, then a tall figure slipped into his room, still wearing those white cotton briefs. He moved to the bed and knelt beside Cord. His hand slipped under the sheet, touching Cord’s shoulder, then wandering down his flank, running in a smooth arc over nipple and abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Cord whispered.

“Taking the bull by the horn,” Tomeo said as his fingers tightened around Cord’s erection.

Cord tried to protest, but before he could, his mouth was smothered by satiny lips. Surprisingly, Tomeo’s breath tasted sweet; the life rising out of his throat felt as hot as a furnace.

Tomeo slowly, passionately, sucked away Cord’s breath, and with it went his resistance. His fingers reached up, not to push away, but to stroke those sunburnt cheeks and roam across neck and shoulders. He wrapped his arms round Tomeo’s solid torso and drew him into the bed. Tomeo banged his head against the headboard, and they both stifled a laugh.

Tomeo stretched against him as their legs tangled in the sheet. Cord felt the distended fabric of Tomeo’s shorts against his belly, heat waves enfolded him, and their lips pressed into a continuous kiss. Cord was shocked at how good this man felt, as though Tomeo reached deep into Cord’s body with velvet fingers and caressed him from the inside out, setting fire to his nerve endings, making him twist and rise and arch at Tomeo’s will, like a puppet being manipulated by a master puppeteer. Cord had never experienced anything like it. Nothing before this came close.

Tomeo pulled away and whispered, “I love you, Cord Bridger, and I intend to do whatever it takes to make a life with you.”

Cord received those words all the way to his marrow. It felt satisfying and simultaneously not enough. He buried a moan in the soft of Tomeo’s throat while hugging him tightly enough to crack ribs. He needed to fuse with this hot skin and be devoured. Cord kissed the man again, kisses that said yes, yes.

And why not? What Tomeo’s books had taught him was that love is a peach. It’s ripe for the briefest time. If not picked and eaten, it falls to the ground, turns brown, and rots.


Author website: http://alanchin.net
Author blog: http://alanchinwriter.blogspot.com

Thursday, December 9, 2010

A Different Yesterday by Linda Mooney

A DIFFERENT YESTERDAY

An erotic sci-fi/apocalyptic/futuristic romance novel
by Linda Mooney
from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid
(ebook) ISBN# 978-1-60313-841-3
http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/torrid/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=5&products_id=555

The Apocalypse.

It didn't come because of man's inhumanity to man. It didn't come from bombs, or plague, or even from aliens descending from outer space. In fact, no one knows what triggered it. And even if they did, there was no way to turn back time.

Only one thing was certain. One evening the sun had grown unexpectedly bigger and hotter, and heat and radiation unlike anything ever experienced washed over the Earth, bathing it in searing rays that devoured over three-quarters of the world's population.

Now the sun is smaller, and it doesn't radiate as much heat as it used to. The world is colder. Food is scarce, and people are fighting to stay alive.

Andrew Michael Tollson, aka "The Silent Wraith", was a man who roamed from settlement to outpost to city, offering his protection from scavengers and renegades. Years ago, right before the sun had exploded, when he had been a boy growing up in a small Texas town, he had felt his first crush for the little tomboy he knew as Jo. Now, as a grown man, he has finally made his way back to his boyhood home to see if Jo is still alive, or if she has been a victim of the Apocalypse. He has to know if the dreams and memories he has harbored were mere fantasies, or if the infatuation he'd felt then has grown into something else, something stronger and more tangible.

JoBeth Wythe was a member of The Triad, three leaders who protected their little settlement, and tried to recall the carefree days before the Apocalypse. All they wanted was the chance at a decent life, with enough food, some shared warmth, and a little hope for the future. She had never forgotten the pudgy little kid who had followed her around when she was growing up, the little boy she called Mikey. Every time she thought of him, it only brought back pain and a wistfulness for a past that no longer existed.

For Drew and Jo, it was only a matter of time before they would be reunited to fight together. To survive together. And to discover that the innocent kisses they had shared as children had grown into a love that would overwhelm them with desire.

Warning! Contains permanent extreme cold, love everlasting, survivalists, separation, a legend in the making, a brutal mass murder, childhood sweethearts to lovers, and the end of the world as we know it.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Draven's Crossing: Mind Games by Diana DeRicci




Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Erotica/Suspense/Vampire/Gay M/M
Length: Novella,  26,997 words, 75 Pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-74-2
Release Date: 12-1-2010
Heat Level: Erotic
Warnings: Violence, Gay M/M
Other Titles in this Series:
Draven's Crossing: Tempestuous Crossings
Purple Sword Publications
All Romance Ebooks



From out of the darkness, a voice calls, luring one man into a battle of the unknown.
Jackal has lived a well-guarded secret his entire life. A being of immense power, he understands and accepts the loss and emptiness of never finding a soul to love, yet endures because it is his only path. Eternal life means none who walk the earth could comfort him for long.
The only one who could understand his plight has lived for just as long: a vampire. Taken by surprise and tortured, Kristof’s agony pulls Jackal to him in the dream realm, forging a bond that is unexpected and unexplained.
But now that they’ve connected, will the darkness that hunts all para-kind in Draven’s Crossing destroy them?


Excerpt:
Chapter One

Time. There always seemed to be time. Jackal flitted between dreams. In the surreal world of dreams, time was never an issue.
Until now.
“Who are you?” he murmured, his voice thick. He knew he was asleep, but he was being drawn irrevocably toward something.
A raw voice reached out to him. “Help me.”
Jackal frowned. His body felt sluggish. It was hard to move, like forcing his way through quicksand, or thigh-high swamp water, the silt sucking at his feet with each step. He was reaching for someone, of that he was sure. He cocked his head, listening. “Where are you?”
“Here. Please. They’re coming.” The male voice replied, plaintively filled with wave upon wave of pain and exhaustion.
He froze, his heart racing. Jackal hadn’t expected a literal answer. He’d never received one before. “Where are you?” he demanded, now getting worried. Anxiety made his words sharp. “What’s your name?”
“Kristof. I can hear you.” The words were dragging, confused. “So tired.”
“Don’t speak.” Jackal intensified his thoughts, forcing himself above the suck of the dream weave. Further disembodied, he floated, coursing through time and space. He’d had plenty of dream excursions, but no one had touched him as intrinsically as this voice. Something dire and desperate waited beyond his reach, needed his help. He knew he had to answer.
Soon, images began to form out of the swirls of his dream. Buildings. Street shapes. Sounds. A world at night.
Cautiously, he landed on a sidewalk. The chill of late night filled the air, hazy stars glinting overhead, as though seen through a thin gauze sheet of clouds. “Kristof?” The sound of his voice was a whisper between his ears. It shook him to his soul that this being was reaching for him.
A roar of pain almost threw him completely back into his own body. Staggering where he stood, Jackal shook his head. This was not normal. He could hear them, but never had a dreamer heard him, or responded, trying to reach out for him. It was almost as though he were being pulled in this direction by sheer will. Steeling himself to move forward, he let the fading tremors of pain guide him. Kristof couldn’t speak. A sense of connection lurked between Jackal’s soul and this man’s subconscious. It was the most the other man could manage, and for even that, Jackal was sure Kristof was hurting because he had to stay cognizant for the thread to remain.
“Hear me, Kristof. Help me find you.”

Friday, December 3, 2010

New Christmas Story: ALL THE WAY by Giselle Renarde

Okay, so I'm not the most impartial person to say this (considering I wrote the book) but I love ALL THE WAY! It's not just the family fun and Christmas-ness of the story...it's also the SEX! The final sex scene in particular gets me every time. When I reread the manuscript a few months after finishing it, I kind of thought, "Did I really write that? Wow!"


Anyhoo, if you're in the market for a funny, sexy, MMF Ménage-y, Christmas-y read, I recommend my new release ALL THE WAY. Here's the blurb and an excerpt:


All the Way
by Giselle Renarde

eXcessica Publishing

Buy Link: http://excessica.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=28&products_id=490&os


When Josie invites her long-ago boyfriend Kaz to stay with her family over the holidays, there are a few things she doesn't anticipate. Kaz admitting he's still a virgin after all these years? That's a weird surprise. Her husband Rob's attempt to give Kaz a little relief in the hot tub? A weird and very sexy surprise. But what about the threesomes in the attic, bedroom, and living room, followed by Josie's jealousy when Kaz falls for her older sister? Nope, she didn't see that one coming.

Warnings: This title contains graphic language and depictions of M/F sex, M/M sex, and M/M/F ménage.


Adult Excerpt from "All the Way":

Josie ran across the deck in flip-flops, kicking them off as she threw her towel over the cleared deck chair. The cold didn’t even manage to catch her up before she could slip her skin beneath the surface of the warm, warm water. It bubbled away like a witch’s brew as she leaned into the jets next to Rob. She reached for his hand as he reached for hers, and they found each other’s thighs instead, which was just as good. Kaz sat across from them, which seemed fortuitous. Even together in the same hot bubbles, they could get away with murder under the hydric hum of the tub.

“Your head’s not too cold?” Rob called to Kaz over the noise.

“Huh?” Kaz replied, placing a hand behind his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“Perfect,” Rob whispered to Josie as he slipped his fingers between her legs.

Kaz shrugged and closed his eyes, at one with his jets. His seat was roughly the same as Josie's, with water flows attacking the stress in her lower back, upper back, mid back, not to mention her butt cheeks. The one thing Kaz didn’t have was a husband’s naughty fingers creeping under turquoise bathing bottoms.

The wetness that dear hubby came across was more than just pool water. It was the very nectar of Josie’s lust for him. God, she wanted him so bad! But she couldn’t very well mount her man with Kaz across the way, even if his eyes were closed. What she could do was squirm out of her bottoms and hold them tight in one hand while she worked her way down to Rob’s cock with the other hand. The very solidity of it made her gasp—or perhaps that was the fingers slowly stroking her clit.

Though she tried not to make much noise while he played with her pussy, it wouldn’t make much difference over the jets. She took a firm hold of his cock, dragging her hand up to the tip until she could feel that skin-on-skin sensation she loved so much. Handjobs were fun, both giving and getting. She opened her legs wide, tossing her thigh over Rob’s as he snuck a wayward finger into her wet slit. Pressing her lips together, she breathed in hard. As he pierced her and penetrated her body with his fingers, she set his cock against her outer thigh and gave it a good smack. Rob loved that; she could see it in his eyes. He reached up deep inside her to rub that sweet spot marked with a g and Josie went wild.

Pressing his palm flat against her clit, he rubbed it in circles. Josie almost felt guilty. There was no way what she was doing to him even half equalled the pleasure he was giving her. Wrapping her fist around his cockhead, she teased the tip alone, pulling on it while she cupped it in her hand. Rob liked being hard in her hands. He like the pressure and the jerking. She liked it too. She liked the rubbing feeling inside her body compounded by the swirling motion on her clit as he stroked it in circles.

Her pleasure mounted as she watched the enjoyment on his face. His lips formed the words I love you before he threw his head back in ecstasy. He held on tight to her pussy, like he’d caught her with a curiously finger-like fish hook. She writhed against his static hold, never letting go of his cock as she ground her pussy against his hand. His palm on her clit felt so good beyond good she couldn’t contain herself. Just as a wayward cry escaped her lips, the hot tub clicked and she knew she had to shut her mouth because the bubbles were going to stop in three…two…one…

Silence.

Kaz opened his eyes wide.

***