Sunday, January 30, 2011

Step Into Tomorrow by Rayne Forrest

Step Into Tomorrow
futuristic time travel/erotic romance
Rayne Forrest
available now at Amber Quill Press
Rhys St. Clair is the best of a select group of highly trained time specialists. When events in the layers of time run amok, it’s his job to step through the Matrix and fix the problem. A mistake in his calculations sends him back to the year 1996 and nets him more than he ever bargained for – Sophia Townsend.

Sophia Townsend needs a life makeover. When a confused stranger shows up inside her home, with no idea of where he is, or even what year it is, it doesn’t take Sophia long to figure out the man in her living room is the most interesting guy she’s ever met, and the sexiest, too.

When Rhys whisks her away, Sophia isn’t sure if she’s been kidnapped, or if the handsome stranger is taking her on the greatest adventure of her life. When the truth catches up to them, Rhys has only one thing left to offer her – but only if she’s brave enough to step into tomorrow with him.

“I could’ve done better.”

“No doubt. You’ve had practice. Now open that fancy atlas you bought and figure out where we can stop for the night, because we’re stopping as soon as it gets dark. I want off this main thoroughfare before we lose the light, too.”

Sophia gave him a surprised look then grabbed up the book and started rapidly flipping through the pages.

Rhys hoped she realized they would share a room tonight. And a bed. He couldn’t let her out of his sight. It was too risky. She’d bolt like the hounds of Hell were after her. Thank all deities she’d never see the real thing. They’d blocked the way out of the lower layers of time known as Hell.

The thought of being in a bed with her, even if he stayed on top of the covers while she was under them, brought his cock to attention. The memory of her beneath him burned in his blood. He wanted her, and he had five years to get her. Starting tonight would work out just fine.

“Oh, and find a place that has, um, what’s it called? Room service? I’m hungry.”

“Eat your crackers if you need food,” she shot back. “We can cross the state line and look for a place. Crossing the state line makes you a worse sort of felon or something.”

“Really? You mean I might become wanted by NASA?”

She groaned. “Why me? Why does it always have to be me? Why do I get the good ones?” She finally shifted in her seat to face him. “It’s the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Rhys. The F-B-I. Not NASA. NASA is the people who go into outer space. You know outer space. Isn’t that where you came from? Didn’t Scotty beam you down?”

His hands clenched around the steering wheel as he gave her the truth.

“No, beautiful. I didn’t come here from outer space. I came from the seventeenth layer of time. Oz.”


Rhys had only one option. Well, two, but letting them arrest him wouldn’t work. What would happen when he vanished without a trace from a holding cell one bright, sunny day? He went back to the bed and crawled back under the sheet.
He had to put his arms around her one more time before he sent her back to her life. He gathered her close. “Sophie. Wake up, beautiful.”

She opened sleepy eyes and blinked. Gods, she looked like a woman who’d been fucked, and well, all night long.

He lowered his lips to hers and poured everything he had into the kiss. All the wonder of the night spent in her arms, all his longing for a life with her. All his regret.

She clung to him, returning his kiss with awakening passion and her own longing. He pulled away.

“Sophie, the authorities are outside. You need to get dressed and walk out of here like nothing ever happened. Tell them you needed to get away for a night, and you’re going home.”

Her face paled. “I won’t leave you! What will you do? Where will you go?”
“You have to leave me. I’ll be fine. I’ll go out away from civilization and put down a marker. Hector will find me and get me home.”

“I can’t go home! There’s nothing there for me.”

He hesitated. More than anything, he wanted to be with her. But what had to be, had to be. They had to go their separate ways. It was the only solution—for her. She deserved better than him.

“There’s no time and no choice. Go home, beautiful. Go back to your life.”

“No. We’ve got to think of something else.” She pushed him away. He mourned the loss of her touch, for his arms that would be empty for the rest of his life—without the chance to really know her.

“Don’t fight me on this. I’ve already done you enough harm. Forget about me. Forget you ever knew me.”

Step Into Tomorrow
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-051-1
futuristic time travel/erotic romance
available now at Amber Quill Press

Rayne Forrest
Visit my website:
Read my personal blog:
Check out the MySpace page:
Join my mailing list:
Follow me on Twitter:

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

TANGLED ROOTS Now Available Through Coming Together: Neat

ALL proceeds from the sales of Coming Together: Neat titles will be placed in a microlending account at Kiva, where they will help entrepreneurs in 3rd world countries launch or expand their businesses.

My erotic romance Tangled Roots has been on the market for a few years now, and while it's still available from eXcessica Publishing, if you buy this brand-spanking-new Coming Together: Neat rerelease, proceeds will benefit entrepreneurs in third world companies through Kiva. I love this concept because it's a hand up, not a hand out.

So if you're into helping people help themselves, a great way to get started is to buy a copy of Tangled Roots by Giselle Renarde! Though this book is set largely at the lakeside cabin, it's not exactly a fun-in-the-sun romance. It gets pretty dark, actually, as these characters battle with the weight of their shared identity.


Control. Over her relationships, her heritage, her career... and above all, her emotions. It is what Simone desires above all else, and what she had managed to keep. But now that is changing. She is lost in the wilderness, and it will take a man named Moses to lead her to a promised land she never knew she wanted. Together, they will untangle the roots of her past, so they can grow together into their future.


“I love you, Moses,” she said in disbelief. “I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, Moses replied, “Maybe you do. And maybe you’re looking for something beautiful to counterbalance the pain. Either way, Simone, you are loved. You are worthy of love. I guarantee it.”

The tears she cried turned from tortured to awed, like when she used to cry in church, never knowing why. Running her hands across the prickly hair of his head, Simone pulled Moses in to take comfort in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue still tasted of black liquorice and of her. She kissed him hungrily, desperately, like she could consume his spiritual knowledge this way.

Simone expected him to push her away, ask her to stop, thinking she was too emotional. He didn’t. No, Moses kissed her back, wrapping her body in his tremendous arms, leaning her down until her hair touched the pine needles. Hungry for love in any form, in all its forms, Simone pulled off her clinging top. No more weeping. Her awe was silent now, and she wiped the traces of tears from her cheeks. Firelight kissed Moses’ skin, making him look like an angel in hell, while it warmed her naked breasts.

“I’m sure,” she whispered in anticipation of the question he seemed about to ask.

Her eager nipples piqued in expectation, pointing up to the greener-than-green treetops. An errant raindrop found its way through the cover overhead, bursting against her chest. The bristle of Moses’ hair excited Simone’s skin as he followed the rain down her breasts. There he worshipped, taking the luscious orbs in his hands as he pressed his beautiful face into them. Softly, he kissed her flesh, leaving wet lip marks in his wake. Slowly, he ran his hot tongue along the cleave, from the base of her round breasts up.

His soft mouth against her nipples sent a message, like an electrical current through her body. The feel of his wet tongue on her breasts ignited her pussy, and that raindrop sensation came back to her abdomen. With every nerve-ending Moses touched, new feelings of beauty awakened in her. He wrapped her in his protective arms, sucking at her breasts. The dew of his mouth on her skin made her body bloom like a patch of white trillium flowers. In her mind, she could see pure white petals bursting through every precious green bud in the forest. The sun and rain together inspired new birth. As Moses planted loving kisses across her chest, a drop of crystal rain kissed her forehead. It flowed like holy water through her hair, cleansing her guilty conscience. Simone’s eyes opened wide. She was awakened.


Sunday, January 23, 2011

A Hero's Bargain by Rayne Forest

Now available at Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

When a poker game turns ugly, erstwhile gambler Ryder Vaughan runs for his life. After crash landing his ship on an unknown world it looks like his life will be a short one - until the lovely healer, Saba Duer, finds him and saves him. Smitten, Saba has no qualms allowing Ryder to seduce her.

In Ryder, Saba sees the coming of a hero to save her people. The deadly errol that has terrorized the Ramalho Clan for so many years has been spotted on a course that will bring it to the village. Ryder has a weapon that could destroy the creature. She strikes a bargain with him to secure his help. Ryder's not yet well and whole, but there is no choice. Saba has to let him go and face the truth -she's sent him on a mission to die.

Only Ryder has a plan and dying isn't a part of it.


“Have you pain?” she asked softly. He shook his head again.

“No. But I didn’t jiggle my back around.”

Jiggle? He must mean that he hadn’t moved the root nerve along his spine. That made perfect sense given her observations of him. She began folding the blanket that was draped across the foot of her bed.

“Let’s get this beneath you. Then you may have food.” She slipped an arm beneath his shoulders, helping him ease up. His face rolled against her breasts. He drew in a deep breath. She almost jerked away. Once he was propped up she dared to look at him.

His face was inscrutable. Too much so. She handed him the mug of thickened broth.

She should have poured it over his head for making her breasts feel so strangely. Her nipples tingled and itched. It was all she could do to keep her hands from rubbing them. The only thing that stopped her was the conviction he’d get some sort of perverse pleasure from the action.

“You wouldn’t deprive a dying man succor, would you angel?”

Succor, was it? She glared down at him.

“You are not dying. I’m on to your games now and you won’t be able to do that again.”

He laughed, a wicked, low sound that shivered across her nerves and teased her woman’s flesh to a tingling awareness of him. He took a cautious sip from the mug. Then another.

He drank it in rapid little sips as she watched. He had no difficulty swallowing and it appeared his stomach was not at all unsettled.
“Would you like a slice of bread?”

His gaze flicked up to hers. “You’ve been holding out on me? Shame on you, angel.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” She snapped at him.

He grinned. “Yes. I’d like a slice of bread.” He held the cup out to her. “Is there more of this?”

She snatched the mug from his hand and refilled it. “This is all there is for now. Would you like rettub on your bread?”

“Sure. Whatever that is.” He accepted the mug and began sipping again, slower this time. She handed him the bread and he dipped it into the liquid and took a bite. He repeated the action until the bread was gone.

“This is manna. Thank you. And thanks for rescuing me. I don’t know if I’ve told you that or not.”

“You did, but you do not have to thank us. Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

He shook his head and lifted the mug to his lips, draining its contents. “I can’t say as there’s any pain at all right now. I’d like to stay still and keep it that way.”

“I’m sure you would. But I should bathe you again.” She could get another look at his maleness. She was the healer, after all, and needed to have knowledge of many things.

“Oh, I think not. Call one of your minions for that. Get Tyree in here.”

“Tyree has more important things to do and I need to see how your wounds are healing. Some may need another application of salve.”

He gave her a calculating look. She refused to flinch.

“Angel, Tyree has nothing more important than a stranger in his village. Trust me on this one.”

“Tyree will ask for your weapons.”

“Tyree doesn’t know I have weapons unless you told him. Did you?”

She couldn’t lie. Her face would give her away. “No. I did not tell him. Not yet.”

“Why not? You should have.”

He was right and she knew it. “Tyree may be the headman of the village but he doesn’t know how to work your weapons. I would not have him examining them and injuring himself or others. You will show him your weapons in due time.”

He looked pleased she’d thought it through that far, his eyes lighting with amused respect. “You seem awfully sure of that. My weapons don’t belong here. I can’t let Tyree have them.”

She plucked the empty mug from his fingers and busied herself washing it. She had her opening. She couldn’t lose her nerve now. It was their only hope. She dried the mug and set it up on the shelf then turned back to Ryder.

“We need your weapons, and your help. If you agree to use your weapons to destroy the errol, we will pay you.”

His eyebrows shot up. His eyes darkened.

“Pay me, will you? With what? A ship so I can get back to my life? Tell me you have one. Lie to me, Saba.”

He had every right to be bitter over his circumstances. She understood, but his acerbic tone shocked her. She hadn’t considered anger. Anger could make him dangerous in ways nothing else would. Nonetheless, her mind was made up. It was her decision, be it folly or not.

“No. The coin I would pay you with is my body.”

ISBN: 978-1-60313-668-6
Available now at
Whiskey Creek Press

Rayne Forrest

Friday, January 21, 2011

Creators of Worlds by G.R. Richards

New Release: Creators of Worlds (M/M, Fantasy/Legend)

Haron and Wiskar have served Sky Holder as Creators of Worlds for millions of years, but their relationship has always been turbulent. Wiskar creates predators and scavengers like the wolf and the vulture, while Haron fashions gentler creatures like deer and rabbits. Though Haron is saddened to watch his creations hunted by predators, he can’t deny his attraction to Wiskar's strengths. Ready to return home and hoping Haron will leave with him, Wiskar challenges his partner to a test of individual strengths - but Haron has a different definition of victory than Wiskar, and this is one battle he’s determined not to lose.

Creators of Worlds by G.R. Richards

Dreamspinner Press: Nap-size Dreams | Fantasy/Paranormal | G.R. Richards

Buy Link:

Read an Excerpt:

WISKAR knew, on some level, that somebody was knocking at his door. It might have been ten or fifteen minutes ago that he’d heard the first shy rap, but he was long past inebriated, and even if he’d wanted to get up, his legs would not have cooperated.

Still, Haron persisted. He knew it had to be Haron, because he’d already put his landlord in the trauma ward, and there was nobody else in this or any other world who cared enough to knock for fifteen minutes straight.

“Wiskar,” Haron finally shouted through the mail slot. “I know you’re in there. I can see you on the couch. Will you open the damn door, please? We’ve got a new assignment.”

“Not another one,” Wiskar mumbled as he fell off the couch, beer in hand. After sucking what liquid he could from the carpet, he left the empty bottle underfoot. Grabbing hold of his coffee table with one hand and the couch cushion with the other, Wiskar propelled himself upright. “I’m getting so sick of this job.”

Haron stuck his hand through the mail slot. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

“Keep your pants on,” Wiskar muttered. He hobbled toward the door, catching hold of the wall and knocking off kilter the framed certificate of completion for the last world they’d created together.

“Do you know how long I’ve been out here?” Haron harped. “And I know you’re drinking again. I can smell it from here.”

Wiskar grumbled so unintelligibly even he wasn’t sure what he’d just said. After fiddling with the locks and finally swinging the door wide open, he turned around and stumbled back to the couch. “Where are we going this time?”

Rushing through the door, Haron took his customary seat on the coffee table littered with ash trays and empties. “To visit the Great Turtle,” Haron said. “It’s far, I know, but Sky Holder’s granted us a vessel to travel in.”

With a moan, Wiskar flipped around on the couch. “Where did he find another slut willing to let two grown men crawl up in her snatch—”

“She is a divine entity,” Haron interrupted in his customarily haughty tone. Not that Wiskar ever stopped talking to listen.

“—before plummeting to her death on an unsettled world? I just can’t imagine any woman, divine or not, volunteering for a job like that.”

Haron was quiet for what felt like a pleasantly long time before saying, “You volunteered for this job.”

That, Wiskar couldn’t argue with, but to his credit, he thought there would be a uniform involved. It seemed like the kind of power position that would attract starry-eyed twinks in the off-season. Instead, he spent months on end stuck inside a stranger’s slimy uterus alongside Haron.

With a heavy sigh and a smack of his lips, Wiskar pulled himself from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me brush my teeth, and I’ll be right out.”

Staring at the bathroom window, Wiskar asked himself which was preferable: a five-story plunge into the brambles below or enduring another assignment alongside Haron?

Half-conscious and scratched up good from his nose to his toes, Wiskar crawled out of the brambles and into the back seat of Haron’s car. “I don’t know why you insist on doing this every time,” Haron clucked, tossing Wiskar a bag full of cotton swabs and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Haven’t you realized it’s inevitable? We’re the creators of worlds—collectively, you and me. We’re stuck with each other. There’s no escaping fate.”

Buy Link:

Guys growl for G.R. Richards Erotica

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Give Me One Night by KC Kendricks

Contemporary gay romance


When passion changes the rules, one more night can alter the future...

Brody O’Connor joins the revelry of the yearly pub crawl, hunting a like-minded man for a night of fun and frolic with no strings attached. When a mystery man in an emerald green shirt engages Brody’s interest, it doesn’t take long for the hunter to become the prey.

Well-matched with his mystery man, Brody regrets his "no strings" approach to a night of shared passion that leaves him hungry for more. The morning after, Evan is gone, as agreed. Brody knows it was a mistake to let him go, and vows to find him.

Evan also never expected to meet someone like Brody. Now Brody wants to change the rules, and Evan decides he’ll give Brody one more night to convince him to stay...

- - - - -
Join my mailing list at
- - - - -

EXCERPT: (from Brody's point of view)

My quarry stood at the bar, sipping what appeared to be a soda. I stepped into the whirling lights, planted my feet, squared my shoulders, put my hands on my hips, and waited for him to spot me. It didn’t take long.

He looked me up and down, a slow, lazy appraisal that focused my attention on his face. Then he smiled and lowered his eyelids with a slight nod of his head.

In that instant I knew something about him there are no flowery or romantic words for – only gut instinct. He wanted me to fuck him.

My body responded to the knowledge. Arousal snapped through me, sending shivers down my spine. My nipples, sensitive as any girl’s, tingled to the point that the fabric of my sweater rubbing against them became deliciously painful. My cock swelled to its full seven and three quarter inch glory in a single pounding heartbeat.

I’d fuck him until he was limp as a rag doll in less time than that if I could get my hands on him.

His chin lifted, the knowledge of the game joined in his eyes. I gestured for him to join me on the dance floor. He smiled and weaved his way through the crowd in my direction. A dancer whirled between us and I bolted for the door, no doubt in my mind he’d follow.

I made it to my car in time to see him step out the door, pause, and look around. He handed something to the bouncer cum doorman. His keys?
He allowed others to drive his Jaguar? The man held stunning, hidden possibilities.

Sure enough, the burly attendant loped across the street and out of my line of sight. Within a minute, the Jag whirled into view and Blue Eyes reclaimed his ride. When he pulled out into the center lane, I steered my car in behind him.

The next stop, according to the pub crawl itinerary, was Rumours, and that was good for me. Blue Eyes turned left onto Potomac Street and his turn signal stayed on. I made a sharp left into the alley and the Rumours private rear parking lot.

Rumours was part of my regular circuit. I breezed through the kitchen door like I owned the place, which I did. I held a very modest, and quiet, ten percent of the business and the real estate.

Several of the wait staff yelled friendly profanities at me – and made a few offers. I smiled and waved as I hustled my way through, exiting the kitchen beside the bar. A buddy had the barstool on the end and I shooed him off it with the promise of imminent entertainment.

Thank heavens the chair was right in front of an air vent and a breeze blew from it to cool the mob of revelers. I was sweaty, sticky, and not because the night was at all warm. The bartender handed me a glass of ice water with a lime twist and I gulped down a few swallows.

No more alcohol for me until I got Blue Eyes home.

And speaking of, there he was, just on the other side of the dance floor, smiling at me, one eyebrow cocked up and looking amused. He gestured to me to join him with the same palm up wave of the arm I’d used at Tully’s.

I shook my head, lifting my glass to indicate I was thirsty. He clasped his hands over his chest and feigned heartbreak.


The dancer behind him was rubbing his butt, without any protest from Blue Eyes, so how crushed could he be? I finished my water and walked towards him, my gaze never leaving his. He stepped into the throng of dancers, meeting me halfway.

We moved easily to the music, our movements mirroring each other. I’d worry about the stupid grin on my face, but his expression matched mine. Our hips swayed closer. Our hands brushed. Blue Eyes turned, shaking his very well-shaped ass at me. I laughed in his ear, pulling him back against me. I was so achingly hard that my resolve to taunt him, to wear him down to a begging blob of gel, almost cracked. He grinned over his shoulder when I licked the rim of his ear.

“Are you going to tell me your name?”

I flashed my pearly whites at him. “Just before you come for the first time.”

“Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

“You’ll have to wait a while to find that out.”

ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-490-7

Also available:

ISBN 978-1-60272-545-4

#3 Best Seller @ Amber Allure, June 2009
ISBN: ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-530-0

KC Kendricks
Visit my website at:
Follow me on Twitter:
Join my mailing list at:
Read my personal blog:
Check out the MySpace page: