Monthly Archives: April 2014
Mid Week Tease: The Art of Grant Management #MWTease #MidWeekTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from “The Art of Grant Management,” which was just purchased this week by Evernight for their Executive Assistant: Manlove Edition antho, woohoo!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
###
Peter sent the email, then started pacing his office, hoping that the (admittedly subtle) message would be received correctly.
His hopes were fulfilled as a sharp staccato knock sounded on the door. It opened and Quincy peered around it. “You bellowed?”
For a millisecond, Peter hesitated. The admin looked tired, which was hardly surprising after the day they’d all had. Then again, fortune favors the brave. The worst he’ll say is no. “Come in, please.”
The admin did, closing the door behind him. Peter very deliberately leaned past him and turned the lock.
Quincy glanced over his shoulder at the locked door. “Let me guess — you’ve snapped from the pressure and you’re going to strangle me with the tubing from a Bunsen burner,” he quipped, going for a joking tone and not quite making it. “I should warn you, three different people saw me walk in here. You’ll never get away with it.”
Peter wanted to smile at the other man’s obvious nervousness. I’m right, I know I’m right. “I just wanted to talk to you in private, that’s all.”
“Oh. Talk.” Watching Quincy’s face go from casual to worried, then back to a mock casual that didn’t hide the worry very well, would have been hilarious in any other situation. The admin shoved his hands in his pants pockets, squinting up at Peter. “Uh, yeah, okay. So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”
“This.” Moving deliberately, he closed the distance between them and pulled Quincy’s hands out of his pockets. In one smooth move he raised them over the other man’s head, pinning the admin against the door. “You, John Quincy, are a brat,” he said, allowing a strict sort of fondness into his tone. “You have been a brat since you started here, and I’ve decided to do something about that.”
Quincy tensed, and for one horrible moment Peter thought he’d misjudged the situation. His brain was already frantically putting together a stammered apology when the admin’s eyes went dark and he relaxed into Peter’s grip. “Finally,” he murmured. “Jesus, doc, I was wondering if I’d have to trip and fall ass-up across your lap.”
Peter smothered a relieved sigh. “Yes, well, you can hardly blame me for my confusion. You don’t act very submissive.”
“Have you ever heard of topping from the bottom?”
“Mm.” He leaned in, pushing a knee between Quincy’s thighs. “I have a confession to make.”
#
What’s Peter’s confession? I’m afraid you’ll have to read Executive Assistant: Manlove Edition to find out! Muwahahahaha!
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Marvelous Monday Reads: Surrender Sweet Succubus
Hello, and welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads! Today I’m featuring the paranormal erotic romance Surrender Sweet Succubus by Jewel Quinlan, which stars a fertility specialist with some very interesting cross-specialization. Read on!
When Dr. Stephen Wallace, a fertility specialist from Sydney Australia, is approached by his brother and sister-in-law for help conceiving a child there is no way he can refuse. Since they have already exhausted all the possibilities modern medicine can provide, Stephen turns to his skills as a shaman for alternative solutions. His search leads him to Las Vegas, Nevada on a slim lead to capture a succubus who he hopes has the power to help. But when he meets Geneva, the exotic and passionate succubus, he finds himself being captured instead.
Story Excerpt
“I came here because I was looking for a succubus…” he began.
“Mm hm. Well, you found one.”
He lost his train of thought as she rolled a tube of lipstick over her lips. The same lips that had been wrapped around his cock last night doing the most wicked things to him.
She finished and started to walk back into the bathroom but her feet stopped short just before the door as if she had hit an invisible barrier. The look on her face was almost comical.
“What the…?” She backed up a step and then tried to move forward again but was halted once more in the same place. She reached in front of her and grabbed the doorway then tried to pull herself through but from the waist down, nothing else moved.
“What the hell is going on?!” She sounded scared now.
He stood. It was working, the binding spell was working! “Okay, I don’t want you to get upset but I put a binding spell on you.” He couldn’t help feeling bad about it. It wasn’t really in his nature to cast such spells but it had been necessary.
“You did what?” Her tone turned to acid and her eyes narrowed.“A binding spell,” he repeated, “So you can’t go more than three yards away from me. Sorry, were you trying to go to the bathroom?”
He moved closer to give her more slack so she could go in. She stumbled slightly as the perimeter of the bind shifted. She straightened, looking even more upset, and moved away from the bathroom towards the front door.
“How dare you!” she raged. “I am not to be held in bondage by any man. Release me at once!” Her hands scrabbled at the door behind her for the knob.
“I’ll remove it, I swear! It’s just, I need your help with something and I didn’t want you to disappear. I wasn’t sure how you would react when I told you I knew what you were.”
“You think I’m going to help you now!?” She looked like she would hit him if she could. Her eyes blazed emerald fire.
“I think, when you listen to what I have to say, you will.”
“And what if I don’t want to listen? You’re going to force me?”
He started to negate it but then stopped. She was right. The look in his sister-in-law’s eyes had haunted him since they’d spoken. He couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t let them both go on with the heartache of being childless. He shook his head, not knowing what to say.
“That’s it, I knew it! You men are all the same. You just take what you want and bend other people to your will.”
He held his hands out to her in pause. “Now look, I don’t even know if you can help me. I just wanted the opportunity to discuss it with you. That’s all. But before we do there’s something else I have to tell you about.” Better to come clean right away. He slowly inched forward towards her.
She yanked the door open. “I don’t care! Whatever it is, I’m not doing it you jerk!” she said, turning to go.
He quickly called out, “I just wanted to be honest and tell you…”
She took one step and then crumpled into a heap on the carpet.
“…about the sedative.”
Where to Buy
About Jewel Quinlan
From a young age, Jewel Quinlan had an abundant imagination and strong desire to write novels. She particularly enjoys writing paranormal and fantasy romance. An avid traveler, she has visited fifteen countries so far (which she enjoys using as settings in her novels) and has plans to see more of the world. She has a particular fondness for Bavaria and studies the German language as one of her hobbies. During the day, she works as a pharmaceutical sales representative and, at night, she writes romance. She currently lives in Orange County, California with her two dogs; Shimmer and Penny.
Where to find Jewel Quinlan
In case you ever thought a writer’s life was non-stop glamor
This is me.
This is me cleaning out our garage because we moved in six years ago and we still have stuff in boxes out there. Including a bunch of tools that I could have used over the last six years, but whatever.
This is also me wearing a red Budweiser hat that I’d crocheted for a specific event a number of years ago (no, I don’t normally wear hats like this). I don’t drink beer, but I had to buy a six pack for the cans. Ramón took a sip of the beer, pronounced it, “Diabetic cat urine,” and poured out all six cans into the sink. Europeans — I ask you.
The hat wound up being stored in a bag with yarn and various crocheting implements (once again, could have used these over the last six years) until I stumbled across it yesterday. All I know is that somewhere, out there, is a Budweiser fan who desperately needs this hat.
And I intend to give it to him. As soon as humanly possible.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Lynn Rae and Peri Elizabeth Scott
Hello darlings! Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Lynn Rae and Peri Elizabeth Scott, whose new book Prohibited is now available from Evernight Publishing and other retailers of fine erotic romance.
In the early 1920’s in Lima, Ohio, John MacDonald Adair hides his speakeasy from the law, and his mixed heritage from the KKK, mingling with the rich, piling up the cash and taking his pleasure within the ranks of the flappers who patronize his speak.
Lilly Townsend is a serious, modern woman, a suffragette and temperance advocate with nothing to hide and no patience for the frivolity of the times. And she doesn’t break the rules—yet.
Such disparate souls should never meet, but Fate conspires otherwise. Powerless against overwhelming chemistry, and something far deeper, Mac and Lilly must make some difficult choices and face down societal mores—together—to attain their happily ever after.
Story Excerpt
Making her way up the wide stone steps to the porch, Lilly shifted the pie to one hand and pressed the doorbell with the other. There was a barely discernible chime through the leaded glass and walnut door but no other sound. She waited and pressed the button again. The door opened with a rattle and creak.
When she recognized the person glaring at her, all the breath left her body in a gasp. It was Mac Adair. Of course. Of all the people in Lima who could have purchased this house next to hers, it would have to be that man.
He narrowed his eyes at her and propped his arm across the door opening as if to deny her entrance. He was wearing a soft-looking red shirt with far too many buttons unfastened, and sturdy black trousers. When she realized he wasn’t wearing an undershirt and she could see the tanned muscles of his chest, her arms weakened and the pie wobbled and dropped from her useless hands.
Stifling a shriek, Lilly flailed for the pan but it was too late to catch it. Spraying its contents, the pie landed on the porch with a sickening squash and the entire pastry top cracked apart as reddish goo welled up like heart’s blood. Scarlet gobbets clung to her forearms and the front of her embroidered linen dress.
Horrified, she looked up to find Mac Adair still staring at her, although his features had smoothed away from the frown he’d worn earlier. The corners of his mouth twitched with disgust or amusement at her predicament. Lilly knew her own mouth was gaping open but she was frozen with embarrassment and powerless to close it.
****
Stricken might be too strong a word for Mac to apply in this circumstance, but it came damn close. Perhaps another might find humor in this beauty brought to her knees by some version of slapstick, but he was mortified for her.
It wasn’t lost on him, this neighborly gesture of welcome, although no doubt she’d have painted a black daub on his door to warn others had she known he lived here after the way he’d treated her in his speakeasy. Mac fumbled for his handkerchief.
“Here, let me…” He squatted to reach out and pat the worst of the spill from her wrist then thought better of it and offered the cloth to her to apply instead.
Trembling fingers snatched it from his grasp, the slight contact sparking a frission of static up his forearm. Lil patted at the sticky fruit and flakes of pastry, lips set in a thin line as she visibly regained her composure. Not that her full, bee-stung mouth could compress into a truly regimented grimace.
“Thank you.” A quiet, dignified murmur at last. She raised her coffee brown eyes to his again, the long lashes sweeping up to unveil returning self possession. His heart pounded harder, and another part of his anatomy responded as well, refusing to listen to his brain scold.
As awkward as a boy in the company of his first crush, Mac struggled to his feet, offering her the hand not occupied with the detritus of the pie as he did so. Lil reached out to take it, and their fingers met amidst the gooey residue as he helped her up. He felt his lips twitching and registered a similar movement of Lil’s. Laughter bubbled over, a welcome warmth that enveloped his senses, and he guffawed in response.
“Mac Adair.”
“Lilly Townsend.”
“My pleasure to meet you, Miss Townsend. Please come in and you can freshen up.”
“I think it will take more than a mere freshen up. And it’s Mrs. Townsend, but please call me Lilly. After our two, um, disparate meetings…”
She was married? How had he missed that fine gold band? Married to that sap.
“Ah—” What in hell was that man’s name she was with last night? “So, Walter is your husband.”
“Walter? Heavens, no! My husband passed four years ago.”
The rush of relief at the news made his knees weak—he was a total bastard for welcoming such news. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lilly.”
“Thank you.” She stared at him expectantly and he shuffled backwards into the foyer. Lilly gracefully followed, only to come up short.
“Do you have a powder room on the main floor?”
“There’s a newly constructed bath just off the foyer.”
Carefully disposing of the ruined pie in his sterile kitchen, he hustled back to the porch with a rag and a small basin of water. He hadn’t cleaned a floor on his knees in, well, ever, but the flies were gathering.
When Lilly emerged, the stuff of her dress sported large, spreading damp spots tinged with an unfortunate hue of pink, the same hint of blush remained on her cheeks.
“I had no idea you were my aunt and uncle’s new neighbor.” The frost was back in her tone.
“Or you wouldn’t have deigned to make me a welcome to the neighborhood pie. Let alone cross the threshold.” Damn it, he was biting back as a dog snaps at flies.
She flinched at his comment and held her head even higher. “I definitely wouldn’t have. You own a speakeasy! Your reputation—”
“My reputation? I’m a businessman, Mrs. Townsend. I serve the public, at least those who seek my services. And if memory serves, you were in my speak just last night. How might that have impugned your reputation, I wonder? Or perhaps it reflected who you are beneath the trappings.”
If he could have ripped out his tongue by its very roots he would have done. Lilly’s breasts lifted and fell rapidly in response to his set down and he tore his eyes away from that bewitching sight to meet her very hurt gaze, swiftly being hidden by outrage and disdain.
“I know who I am beneath my trappings. Mr. Adair. Who or what do you hide behind yours? My slight lapse in judgment last evening, correction, serious lapse in judgment won’t be repeated. Of that I can assure you!”
Hell’s teeth, she was lovely! All flashing eyes and high color. He couldn’t resist pushing her harder.
“I knew my first impression of you was correct.”
She sputtered. It was fascinating to observe, those succulent lips parting with fury.
“If you consider calling me priggish and straight-laced an insult, sir, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m simply fine with your assessment. At least I’m contributing to the moral compass of this world, unlike some people who undermine the very fabric of—oomph.”
It was just too much. Too much of everything. She had slipped a verbal dagger between his ribs and pierced his conscience. Coupled with her intense appeal, he felt pushed over the brink and reacted to both quiet her and soothe his abraded soul.
Her wealth of hair spilled from its gathered twist on the back of her head as he pulled her roughly into his arms, soft curves imprinting against his chest. He caught a glimpse of her wide, startled eyes before taking her mouth with his own in fierce possession, plundering the seam of her lips. Groaning with the effort of suppressing his lust—he longed to sweep her up and carry her into the parlor where a fainting couch reposed—Mac contented himself with kissing them both senseless.
Where To Buy
Where to find Lynn Rae and Peri Elizabeth Scott
Evernight’s Book Boyfriend Blog Hop! #bookboyfriend
The Book Boyfriend Blog Hop is back and better than ever!
The authors of Evernight have a brand new team of swoon-worthy book boyfriend candidates. A sexy assortment of cowboys, Doms, detectives, millionaires, royalty, vampires, soldiers, and shifters are just a click away.
Get ready to find your next book boyfriend…
Hi there! I’m Nicola Cameron, and welcome to my website! Due to a missed communication on my part Evernight didn’t get the name of my chosen Book Boyfriend in time for the promotional material, so guess what? You get TWO Book Boyfriends for the price of one!
So, let’s talk about the romantic lead of my M/M paranormal erotic romance Trickster and my official Book Boyfriend, Delaney Smith. Tall, handsome, a coyote shifter and genius programmer, and currently CTO at Trickster Technologies, Delaney also dates shifters exclusively — humans are just a little too bland and boring for his tastes. Walking back into the office after vacation, he gets the shock of his life when he finally scents his mate.
Who just happens to be a male contract programmer hired by Trickster while Delaney was on vacation. The fact that Mark Fellowes is a man doesn’t bother Delaney. The fact that Mark is completely and undeniably human … and straight … and has a girlfriend … well, that’s a whole ‘nother story.
So yeah, their relationship starts out on a slightly rocky basis. And to prove it, here’s a teaser:
Delaney ended the call and tossed the phone on his bedside table. He understood the importance of finding out who was trying to hack into Trickster’s servers. But God, this was a shitty time to make him play Sherlock, especially with his mate as the target.
Leaving his bedroom, he headed to the guest room and knocked on the door. “Mark? Can I come in?”
There was no answer. He opened the door and peered inside. Mark’s open bag was on the bed, and the bathroom door was shut. Behind it, he could hear the sound of the shower.
His natural curiosity kicked into gear. Quietly, he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, ignoring the faint flicker of guilt. Well, nosing around is what coyotes do, he reasoned. And Scott pretty much ordered me to check him out, so I’m just following my Alpha’s orders.
Mark’s bag turned out to hold nothing but a clean set of casual clothes, some underwear, and a dress shirt, suit, and tie. Delaney took a deep breath, savoring the warm, woody scent wafting up from the clothes. A powerfully attractive image of shucking off his clothes and joining his mate in the shower came to him. I could scrub him clean all over, yeah, then kneel down and rim him until he’s begging–
His enhanced hearing picked up a soft moan. He stepped to the bathroom door, listening. Another moan, almost muffled by the sound the falling water, and a familiar slicking sound.
Delaney went hot all over, and his cock sprang back to life. Oh, fuck. He’s jacking off. He’s four feet away and he’s jacking off. Fuck, that’s so not fair.
His hand drifted to the front of his slacks, massaging the thick ridge there as he listened to his mate pleasure himself. When Mark grunted hard and came, Delaney was almost right behind him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his hand away, willing his heartbeat to slow down as the shower stopped.
The bathroom door opened and Mark stepped out, rubbing a towel over his hair. Another one was wrapped around his narrow hips, and Delaney wanted to take it off with his teeth.
He cleared his throat. Mark yelped and spun, bumping into the dresser next to the bed. The towel around his waist started to slip, and Delaney caught a glimpse of pale, muscled hip before Mark yanked the terrycloth back into place.
Panting, he glared at Delaney. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “Do you even know how to knock?”
“I did,” Delaney said, trying to sound innocent. “You didn’t answer so I got worried. Didn’t know you were in the shower until I came in here.” And you were coming in there.
Trickster can be purchased from the following retailers:
Evernight • Amazon • Barnes & Noble • All Romance Ebooks • Bookstrand • Smashwords
Now, what’s up for grabs in his blog hop?
- One lucky hopper will win a $100 Amazon Gift Certificate sponsored by Evernight Publishing.
- Plus, I’ll be giving away a goodie basket of books, chocolate, and custom jewelry from Belaurient Arts.
How to enter? Answer this question in the comments below…
Question: If you could be any kind of shifter, what kind would you be?
Be sure to leave the answer and your email address to be eligible to win a prize. Each comment gives you an entry for the grand prize (one per blog hop stop).
Keep hopping to the next author or blogger. After you’ve met each hero click here to vote for your favorite book boyfriend. You’ll earn an extra grand prize entry!
You’re one step closer to meeting your next Book Boyfriend…
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My original boyfriend choice for the blog hop was the oh-so-sexy Scot Rory MacLellan, the romantic lead of my soon-to-be-published M/M SF erotic romance Two to Tango. Rory is a roguish intergalactic art thief who stumbles across suicidal archaeologist Dmitri Grigoryev during a heist and accidentally kidnaps/rescues him (it’s complicated). When the cops think Dmitri is Rory’s inside man on the heist, they have to go on the run together, and hijinks ensue!
I chose Rory as my Book Boyfriend because while he’s a thief, he also has a strong set of principles (as Dmitri quickly finds out). If you hurt someone Rory cares about, he’ll make damn sure you regret it. He’s also funny, quick-thinking, and empathetic despite a childhood that could best be described as “sterile.” Oh, did I mention he was a dyed-in-the-tartan romantic, too? You’ll understand what I mean when you get to the onboard dinner scene (who brings fine china and crystal into space, anyway? Someone who’s determined to woo a cranky archaeologist, that’s who).
I’m looking at a release date sometime in May, so stay tuned!
Mid Week Tease: The Art of Grant Management #MWTease #MidWeekTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from “The Art of Grant Management,” which was just purchased this week by Evernight for their Executive Assistant: Manlove Edition antho, woohoo!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
###
Peter sent the email, then started pacing his office, hoping that the (admittedly subtle) message would be received correctly.
His hopes were fulfilled as a sharp staccato knock sounded on the door. It opened and Quincy peered around it. “You bellowed?”
For a millisecond, Peter hesitated. The admin looked tired, which was hardly surprising after the day they’d all had. Then again, fortune favors the brave. The worst he’ll say is no. “Come in, please.”
The admin did, closing the door behind him. Peter very deliberately leaned past him and turned the lock.
Quincy glanced over his shoulder at the locked door. “Let me guess — you’ve snapped from the pressure and you’re going to strangle me with the tubing from a Bunsen burner,” he quipped, going for a joking tone and not quite making it. “I should warn you, three different people saw me walk in here. You’ll never get away with it.”
Peter wanted to smile at the other man’s obvious nervousness. I’m right, I know I’m right. “I just wanted to talk to you in private, that’s all.”
“Oh. Talk.” Watching Quincy’s face go from casual to worried, then back to a mock casual that didn’t hide the worry very well, would have been hilarious in any other situation. The admin shoved his hands in his pants pockets, squinting up at Peter. “Uh, yeah, okay. So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”
“This.” Moving deliberately, he closed the distance between them and pulled Quincy’s hands out of his pockets. In one smooth move he raised them over the other man’s head, pinning the admin against the door. “You, John Quincy, are a brat,” he said, allowing a strict sort of fondness into his tone. “You have been a brat since you started here, and I’ve decided to do something about that.”
Quincy tensed, and for one horrible moment Peter thought he’d misjudged the situation. His brain was already frantically putting together a stammered apology when the admin’s eyes went dark and he relaxed into Peter’s grip. “Finally,” he murmured. “Jesus, doc, I was wondering if I’d have to trip and fall ass-up across your lap.”
Peter smothered a relieved sigh. “Yes, well, you can hardly blame me for my confusion. You don’t act very submissive.”
“Have you ever heard of topping from the bottom?”
“Mm.” He leaned in, pushing a knee between Quincy’s thighs. “I have a confession to make.”
#
What’s Peter’s confession? I’m afraid you’ll have to read Executive Assistant: Manlove Edition to find out! Muwahahahaha!
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Whoo, boy
So I finished a short story for an antho call yesterday and got that fired off, and woke up this morning to the delicious realization that all of my pending tasks outside my usual job load are done, dusted, and off my plate. I can actually take today off if I like.
Of course that doesn’t mean I won’t write — I do that every day (besides, I’m working on Breaker Zone now and having a hella lot of fun). But it does mean that the pressure’s off and I can just be leisurely after I get my word count in, maybe go see a movie (Transcendence is now playing, I still need to see The Winter Soldier with Ramón, and I am champing at the bit until Only Lovers Left Alive opens next weekend here), or maybe have myself a marathon with all the Hannibal episodes I have stacked up on the DVR.
Then again, I really do need to clean this place. It’s begging for a good thorough vacuuming. Then again, a clean house is the sign of a blocked writer. Yeah, Hannibal is definitely the better bet.
Okay, so I was in Baltimore for this art show…
Back in December, I contributed to a Kickstarter project started by a sculptor named Cameron Stalheim who was working on his MFA thesis project, a 30-foot sculpture of a dying merman that he described as “the first in a new series of work that questions the relationship between fantasy, reality and the objectification that happens in between.” One eensy problem, though — since he would have to cast the model (fellow artist and adult film star Colby Keller) for the merman’s upper torso and casting materials are muy expensive, he needed outside funds to finish the project, hence the Kickstarter campaign.
Right around that time, I had a bunch of royalties come in which totaled in the very low four figures. Since 1) I already had all my Christmas presents purchased, and 2) knew that mermen were going to play a major role in Breaker Zone, I decided to donate the royalties to the project. It wound up getting funded on December 21st, and Cam was able to cast Colby as scheduled and finish the piece.
Fast forward to this month. The MFA graduates’ show was scheduled to begin on April 11; as my contribution level included a reward of dinner with Cameron and Colby, I decided to fly to Baltimore for the weekend, see the show and the sculpture, and generally be a patroness of the arts. And apart from the fact that I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before my flight and wound up landing after being awake for 35 hours, I had an absolutely fantastic time. Cameron is intelligent, charming, and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to have met, and he excitedly told me about the other figures he wants to sculpt in this series. As for the merman sculpture itself, it was breathtaking.
A long shot of the sculpture. Because of its size I couldn’t really get the whole thing into one picture.
A medium shot of the upper body. Apparently a woman pushing a food cart almost hit the hand, and the entire gallery made sounds of horror at the same time. Cam was in a different part at the time, and said he thought the walls were coming down.
Maybe it’s just me, but the fact that the merman has a streamlined penis (partially hidden in a cloaca-like compartment) deeply pleases the biologist in me, and I may lift the concept for Breaker Zone.
The only way I could get the entire sculpture in one shot.
A closeup of the tail.
Closeup of the merman’s profile.
It’s extremely eerie because it looks like an actor in makeup, and you expect him to open his eyes and blink at any moment.
The finished artwork and the model, somewhat more beardy than he was when originally cast.
After the show, there was a party at the coffee shop where Cameron worked, and I got to meet Colby and his partner Karl, Cam’s parents, and a bunch of other MFA students and other people in Cam’s circle. I described it on my podcast as the art world version of a cast party, and it had that same fun, loosey-goosey vibe (the kegs in the corner of the shop probably helped). And once I’d asked the barista if she had a narcoleptic special and she made me a double Vietnamese iced coffee with God only knows how much espresso in it, I was even awake enough to thoroughly enjoy myself! Colby and I also talked about a concept he had for a book, so, yeah, there may be something new in the WIP queue.
The next evening I headed out with Cameron, Colby, and Karl to a gorgeous little pizza joint named Iggie’s where we spent a good three hours eating fabulous pie, getting more than a bit squiffed on local beer and wine, and discussing such disparate topics as the Chinese space program, writing the world’s first erotic romance musical, the role of intelligence and meritocracy in American culture, why women like reading and watching gay porn, and a variety of other topics. Afterwards I staggered merrily back to my hotel, getting into an argument with a black cat hanging out in an apartment window on the way, and putting together the outline for a gay Gothic romance in my head. If more of my Saturday nights could end that way, I would be a very happy camper.
Sunday morning I went over to Colby’s to take possession of some art (he’s giving away all of his stuff due to an unexpected move. It’s a long story — details are available here) and give the boys goodbye hugs before I headed to lunch with another friend, then off to the airport. All in all, I have to say that Baltimore is an utterly awesome city, and the people there are amazing.
And now I have two more books to write, so that’s all good!
Mid Week Tease: The Art of Grant Management #MWTease #MidWeekTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from my current WIP, a M/M contemporary story set in a medical research center called “The Art of Grant Management.” I always knew that those years of managing research grants would finally come in handy!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
###
“I know Dr. Cheung may give you an extraordinary amount of leeway, but I expect you to do your job,” Dr. Peter Loeffler said, glaring down his nose at the man sitting behind the desk. “I have extra funds remaining in my NHS grant, and I wish to use them to purchase additional tissue lines.”
The administrative assistant for the Robert Kenilworth Research Center smirked back up at him. “And I’ve told you at least three times that those funds are earmarked for personnel, not supplies,” John Quincy said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “Which apparently you can’t parse. If you tell me what language they speak on your planet, I’ll try to translate it into something you’ll understand.”
“Oh, ha, ha, very humorous.”
Quincy’s smirk quirked, one side rising. “Then let me repeat it — again — in English. I am legally unable to transfer funds from one grant area to another. So the answer to your question is no. While we’re on the subject, you’re going to lose that money from next year’s grant if you don’t hire a research student toot sweet.”
Peter clenched his jaw. “I don’t need another researcher. I need fresh tissue lines.”
“Not my problem,” Quincy said dismissively. “This is what happens when you don’t budget your grants correctly. Consider it an object lesson.”
Peter ground his teeth together. “I need those funds reallocated so that I can use them as I see best,” he grated. “And since it is my burden in life to have you as an administrative assistant, I insist you do your job and administrate this transfer.”
Quincy’s answering smile was feral. “You want me to administrate something? How about I administrate my foot up your–”
“Gentlemen.”
Dr. Mai Cheung’s voice sounded mild, but there was steel under the center director’s tone. “May I remind you that voices carry? Mr. Quincy, get back to work.” Peter felt a hand on his arm. “Could I see you in my office, Dr. Loeffler?”
Grimacing, Peter let her pull him away from Quincy’s desk. The man had already turned back to his computer, whistling insouciantly.
Insouciantly. Damn him.
#
“Is there a reason why I came back from lunch and found you yelling at my administrative assistant?” Mai said. “Again?”
“I wasn’t yelling,” Peter said with a sniff. “As for your administrative assistant, he’s a boorish, obnoxious little man who has no respect whatsoever for his superiors, and he takes a particularly childish delight in being obstructive. I simply do not understand why you insist on keeping him employed.”
“Because he’s a god of grant management,” Mai said. “Not only does he keep track of every research grant opportunity out there, he’s also a walking calculator who can balance multiple million-dollar budgets in his head.” She shrugged. “Plus he’s also the only person who’s been able to put up with all the personalities up here.”
He folded his arms across his chest and glared. “I assume you’re referring to me?”
“I’m referring to every researcher up here, including me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s be honest. We’re a bunch of prima donna scientists who are far too undersocialized for our own good, and we’ve scared the shit out of every admin who walked in here.”
She pointed at her office door and the room beyond. “Except Quincy. He dishes it out as well as he takes it, and he keeps us funded. So I would consider it a personal favor if you’d ease off on the insults and let the man do his job before he gets fed up and goes to work for Grant Management.”
“I was trying to get him to do his job!”
“No, you were trying to get him to bend the rules for you,” she fired back. “You know full well you can’t use personnel funds for supplies, so stop asking. If you need those cell lines so badly, you’ll have to find another way to pay for them.”
Peter felt his fury subside a bit. “I — damn it. There is no other way,” he admitted. “I’ve exhausted all of my resources. My new NHS grant won’t fund for two months, and I need those cell lines before we get our site visit from Clemmons.”
Mai frowned. The Clemmons Endowment Fund provided the huge program project grant that kept the Kenilworth Center itself up and running. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier, Peter?”
He scuffed a toe along the carpet. “Well, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit that I, er, underbudgeted.” Quincy’s sneer loomed in his mind’s eye. “I don’t know what to do, Mai. I need those cell lines if I want to complete my current research project before the site visit.”
“Huh.” She frowned thoughtfully. “You know, if you talk to Quincy, I bet he can find a grant somewhere that will pay for your lines.”
Peter stiffened. “I would rather orally service Sarah Palin than ask John Quincy for a favor,” he snapped. “And you know both my political leanings and my sexual orientation, so that should fully indicate the depths of my repugnance.”
Mai grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image. Now I need brain bleach.” She rubbed the bracketed skin between her eyes. “I really wish you’d just ask him out already.”
“Ask who?”
“Quincy.”
Peter’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon?
“Oh, please. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think nobody’s watching. And he looks at you the same way. Your little mating dance has been amusing enough, but it’s time to step up your game and do something about it.”
He’d gotten his jaw under control. “Quincy and I are not doing a mating dance,” he said. “Despite what you most mistakenly believe, I think he’s an obnoxious little troglodyte, and he obviously has no fond feelings for me. We’re not compatible in any way, shape, or form.”
One sleek eyebrow arched at him. “How would you know, seeing as the only thing you ever do is bicker with him?”
“I do not bicker,” Peter said sharply, then paused. “All right, perhaps I do. A bit. But he starts it!”
“Mating dance.” Mai sighed. “Look, there’s no rule against you dating a staff member, so why don’t you try being the bigger man for once and just ask him out?”
“It would be difficult to be the littler man to that homunculus,” Peter muttered.
Her eyes narrowed. “Let me remind you that you’re speaking about the man who can pull your metaphorical fat out of the fire, doctor. If you won’t cowboy up and ask him out, that’s your decision, but I do expect you to go ask him for some grant help, especially if it has a bearing on the site visit.”
He resisted the image to squirm under her gaze. “I’ll think about it. May I go now?”
The director waved him off. With as much dignity as he could muster, Peter stalked out of the office, into the anteroom that doubled as Quincy’s domain.
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Friedrich followed the Americans backstage, still boggled by the evening and the spectacle he’d just witnessed. Heaven and Hell was just as glamorous and expensive as he’d heard, and their notorious stage show was just as debauched. How those girls could keep their balance so perfectly and dance while trussed up like that was a mystery.
And of course the Fräulein loved the show; he noticed the high color in her cheeks, and the way she kept licking her lips as she stared at the dancers. He was sure it wasn’t the beautiful naked girls so much as how they were bound that captivated his employer’s attention.
Sam guided them to a narrow hallway, where he indicated that they should wait. He knocked on a door, then disappeared into the room for a minute. When he stuck his head back into the hallway, he was grinning. “He said yes, Kat.”
“Oh, wonderful,” she purred. “Come on, colonel. We have someone to meet.”
Wary, Friedrich followed her into what turned out to be a small, pin-neat dressing room. The Japanese man from the show stood in the middle of the room, arms at his sides. He gave them a short, precise bow. “Konnichiwa,” he said.
“Konnichiwa,” Sam echoed, also repeating the bow. “Kat, von Bader, allow me to present Hajime Ito. Hajime-san, this is my fiancée, Katherine Tracy, and our friend Friedrich von Bader.”
Friedrich found himself giving the man a military bow. The man grunted acknowledgment, then gave the Fräulein a slightly deeper bow, which she returned in kind.
“We’re honored that you would speak with us, Hajime-sama,” she said, surprising Friedrich with the respect in her tone. “My fiancé spoke of your work in the highest of terms. Your artistry with the rope is amazing — I’ve never seen such beautiful patterns.”
“Thank you,” Hajime said in accented but understandable German. “Most people look at the girls, not at my work.”
The Fräulein shook her head. “I respect your work, Hajime-sama. I wish I could become your student and learn from you.”
A small smile split his craggy features. “I have never taught a woman the art of kinbaku. I only use them as models. It would be interesting to teach a woman, I think.”
“I would hope so,” she said lightly. “Speaking of men and women, I was wondering — have you ever bound a man?”
Friedrich tensed at her words, as Hajime shrugged. “Of course. The art began as a way of controlling prisoners during wartime. There are different patterns you can use with a man, different suspensions.” He eyed the ceiling. “A pity we do not have rafters in here. I could show you, if I had a model.”
She clapped her hands at that. “But you do have a model,” she enthused. “The colonel here would be happy to volunteer.” She turned to Friedrich expectantly.
He was surprised to feel hot and cold at the same time. Cold at the thought of being forced into yet another humiliation, but oddly hot at the thought of obeying her politely worded command. “I — Fräulein, please,” he muttered.
That sable gaze caught him. “I believe I gave you an order, colonel.”
Stiffly, he nodded once and stepped forward, holding his arms up. The rope master’s dark brows beetled at him in puzzlement.
“He can’t bind you over your clothes, colonel,” the Fräulein said, amused. “Strip.”
Gritting his teeth, Friedrich obeyed. Anyone with military experience quickly got used to being naked in front of other men, so getting out of his uniform wasn’t bad. Even Sam’s appreciative leer was more flattering than annoying.
The ropes, however — as the rope master began looping the jute rope over and around him, forming diamond patterns along the front of his body, Friedrich couldn’t ignore the gentle but insistent compression as he was tied up like a Christmas present. The strangest thing, however, was how the bonds made him feel. He’d expected a growing sense of panic, as if he was trapped in a jute cage, and didn’t know how the Fraulein would react to his need to escape.
But to his surprise, the ropes made him feel…secure. Even safe, in a bizarre sort of way. He found himself relaxing as the rope master finished binding his torso, slipping ropes between his legs and pulling up the slack along the crease between thigh and hip. The tightening sensation was acutely sensual, and he wondered if the ropes would be used on his cock and balls as well. He felt a combined mixture of disappointment and relief when Hajime-san glanced up at him and nodded briefly in satisfaction, tying off the ropes at one hip.
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