Marvelous Monday Reads: A Second Chance
Hello, and welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, angels! Today I’m featuring Iyana Jenna and her smoking new Romance on the Go story A Second Chance, now available from Evernight Publishing. Read on!
Chance Devereux and Ryder Adkins have worked on the same TV series for three years and share a house near the set. Yet Chance can only watch from afar when Ryder gets engaged. Even though Chance is still deep in the closet, he can’t help be jealous.
Since the first day of shooting, Ryder has had his sights on his costar, but Chance has a girlfriend and Ryder thinks Chance is straight. After years without a concrete result, Ryder decides to forget his desire to be with Chance and go back to Mike.
During a hiatus, Chance does an interview with journalist, Sebastian Vanderbilt. Sebastian opens Chance’s eyes, and he decides he needs to make Ryder his. Can they work it out, or are they all out of retakes?
Story Excerpt
Without waiting for Mike’s answer, he slid his phone open and scrolled down to Chance’s number. Ryder glanced briefly at Mike, who simply nodded and turned away to give him a semblance of privacy. Ryder turned his attention back to the call he was making and nearly jerked in anticipation when it was answered.
“Hey. Chance, it’s—”
“I’m sorry, but Chance can’t answer the phone right now.”
Ryder’s eyes bulged. Taken aback, he swallowed. “W-what? Who is this?”
“May I ask who’s speaking, please?”
“It’s, uh, Ryder. I’m his, his best friend—”
“Oh, Ryder. Sure.”
Ryder lifted an eyebrow when the man laughed a little.
“Chance talks a lot about you,” the man went on.
“Thanks, but….” Ryder’s eyes flickered to Mike, who was observing him closely. His mind began to wander to places he didn’t want to go. How could he not? The man had Chance’s cell. “Where is he? Do you mind if I talk to him?”
“No, of course not.” The man sighed. “But he really can’t.”
“What? What happened? What have you done to him?”
“Whoa, wait a second. I’ve done nothing to him. But he’s asleep right now. He hasn’t been able to sleep for some time. He’s been in so much pain he couldn’t even rest.”
Ryder slumped in his seat, rubbing his face. “Oh, God.” Mike had been right. Feeling lightheaded, Ryder whispered into the mouthpiece. “What’s wrong with him? God, is he okay now?”
“Yeah, I truly hope so. He’s much calmer now. He caught a stomach bug a couple of days ago.”
“And you’re—you’re Sebastian, right? Sebastian Vanderbilt? I saw the pictures.”
“That’s me. Oh, and Ryder?”
“Yes?”
“I heard about your engagement. Congratulations, man.”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Hey, look,” Sebastian cut him off. “I’d love to talk to you, but I really have to go. I’ll tell Chance that you called, okay?”
“Wait, Sebastian. I’m just… you know, I—” But it was too late. Sebastian had hung up. Sucking in a breath, Ryder could only gawk in disbelief.
****
Sebastian didn’t know for sure why he felt reluctant to talk to Ryder. He had no reason to feel threatened by him, though if the way Chance talked about Ryder in the interview was anything to go by, Sebastian might have to consider how he felt toward the guy. This was such a new thing for him, feeling insecure. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Sebastian wondered what Chance had done to him.
Back in the guestroom where Chance was resting, Sebastian found him awake. Chance’s gaze wandered, his expression half-studying his surroundings, half-wondering how or why he was there in the first place. He turned to Sebastian only when he heard him clear his throat. Warmth surged in Sebastian’s heart at the fleeting blush on Chance’s freckled face. He wondered what Chance thought about the room. Sebastian loved his place, but perhaps it was childish to want to hear what Chance had to say about it.
Sebastian went to sit next to Chance, reaching out to feel his brow.
Chance groaned, shying away. “I’m not a child, Sebastian.”
“No.” Sebastian smiled. “But you gave me quite a scare.”
“Sorry.” Chance looked down.
“Hey, that’s not your fault. You were sick and obviously you hadn’t fully recovered when you left the hospital. How are you feeling now?”
“Much better.” Chance licked his lips.
“Water?”
“Please.”
Sebastian watched Chance drink slowly, and when he pulled back, some drips still clung to his lower lip. Sebastian knew he’d been staring, and he completely ignored the glass shoved back into his palm. Finally, he chuckled, put the glass away on the nightstand, and took off his shirt.
Chance’s eyes widened before they darkened a bit.
“May I?” Sebastian gestured toward a space on Chance’s huge, fluffy pillow.
Chance shifted a little to give him more room, much to his delight. He slipped under the cover and could feel Chance stiffen slightly. His face—mere inches from Sebastian’s—was taut before he relaxed and snuggled into Sebastian’s bare chest. Chance’s body felt sleep warm under his thin T-shirt, and Sebastian braved Chance’s reaction and slid a hand under it. He palmed Chance’s flat abs and up to his muscled torso, sighing appreciatively at the deep moan wrenched out of Chance’s throat.
“Beautiful,” Sebastian said huskily. “Very beautiful.” He tweaked a nipple and was rewarded with the stretched column of Chance’s smooth neck as he threw his head back, lips parting, his guttural growl sending Sebastian’s blood to his groin.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
Bookstrand
Barnes & Noble
All Romance Ebooks
About Iyana Jenna
Iyana writes M/M short stories and novellas. Her works have been published by Evernight Publishing, JMS Books, Books to Go Now, Torquere Press, Bitten Press, Leap of Faith Publishing, Breathless Press, and Alfie Dog Fiction.
Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.
Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has three of them. Their names are Cil, Horus, and Betsy, and one kitten. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.
Where to find Iyana Jenna
Happy 4th Birthday to Evernight Publishing! #BDayBashBlogHop
Roll out the Red Carpet!
Evernight celebrates
four years of publishing!
Join authors, bloggers and reviewers as we take a RED CARPET tour featuring Evernight’s smart and sexy books. Slip on your virtual stilettos and walk the red carpet of award winning titles, spectacular reviews and paparazzi style interviews.
Be sure to visit every stop on the tour where you can enter for a chance to win great prizes, including a new eReader, gift certificates, swag, books and much more!
Don’t forget to visit the Evernight Publishing <http://www.evernightpublishing.com> website where all eBooks are 50% off through October 13th!
Now it’s time to turn the spotlight on my smart and sexy M/M sci fi caper romance Two to Tango:
Rory MacLellan, AKA the Highlander, may be the most successful interstellar art thief in the Known Worlds, but he still has a conscience. So when he runs into a desperate museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.
Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry and broke, the last thing he expected was a dashing thief to come along and save his life.
Thrown together by accident and with interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way?
Where to Buy:
Answer my question in the comment section for a chance to win (be sure to include your email address):
- Your choice of an Amazon Kindle Fire HD or Kobo Arc 7
- $100 Amazon GC
- $50 Evernight GC
- My blog prize: Nebula, a 14K gold and lapis lazuli earring set from Belaurient Arts
Question: What do you think Rory and Dmitri’s next adventure should be?
Hop to the next stop!
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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.
Kat stared up at the German, now perched between her splayed thighs. His sheathed cock, thick and throbbing, rested against her pubic mound. Her clit ached for contact with it. Behind him, Sam wore an intense expression as he did something to Friedrich’s lower body. From the sudden widening of Friedrich’s eyes, she could guess what Sam was doing with his fingers.
“Come on, then.” She stroked Friedrich’s cock, shifting herself slightly so that she could nudge him into position. “I want you inside me, colonel. Slowly.”
“Ja, Fräulein.” With exquisite slowness, he pressed into her. She took a deep breath at the first delicious stretch, the thick heft of his shaft as it forced her body to accommodate it. Wet as she was, she wasn’t fully open, and he had to work for the last few inches. She watched, fascinated, at the play of emotions across his face; strain, concentration, followed by the most sublime look of masculine enjoyment when he was finally seated inside her.
His eyes widened and he gasped, twitching inside her. Over his shoulder Sam loomed, his own look of pleasurable strain a close twin to Friedrich’s. “Relax,” he said hoarsely. “And breathe, dammit.”
Friedrich’s head dropped and he obeyed, pressing hard against her pubic bone as Sam pushed deeper. Her clit throbbed from the sudden attention, and she mewled happily. “Oh, I like that!”
“So do I,” Sam said, sounding breathless. “I wish you could feel it from this end, sweetheart. He’s so hot and tight. How are you doing, Friedrich?”
“Mm.” The German sucked in another breath, then nodded. “It’s good. More.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Sam said, still breathless. “Coming right up.”
At Sam’s careful thrust, Friedrich pressed harder against her, grinding oh so perfectly. She watched as pain flickered across his face, replaced by heavy-lidded pleasure. His sculpted mouth pursed into a soft oh, and he pushed back against Sam, then surged heavily into her.
Kat threw her head back, turning her cry of pleasure into a ragged gasp. She loved this, loved watching her colonel impale himself on Sam’s cock before pushing into her. He was trapped between them, a slave to both their pleasure and his own. She angled her hips to meet his next thrust, and moaned in surprise as his cock slid perfectly along her clit, setting off a firestorm in her lower belly.
Her eyes popped open. “Do that again!”
Friedrich obeyed, moaning as Sam’s thrust pushed him deeply into her. The same slide, and the same burst of ecstatic fire through her. She gasped happily. That had never happened before, not with the pets she allowed to pleasure her, or even with Sam. “Keep doing that, just like that.”
Friedrich was breathing hard now, his large body trembling against hers from the strain of holding himself in position. Sam obviously felt it as well, because he said, “Friedrich, don’t work so hard. Let me do the driving. Just relax and enjoy Kat.”
“Ja.” It was a breathless grunt, but some of the tremors eased. Under Sam’s guidance, the three of them found a rhythm that drove Friedrich’s cock perfectly over her clit, pistoning deep inside her as Sam plunged inside the German. The bed began to creak, then squeak angrily under them.
“Good thing we have a suite,” Sam gasped. “Don’t — hah — want the neighbors calling — hah! — the cops on us.”
Even with her rising pleasure, Kat still managed to roll her eyes. “Just shut up and fuck him, Sam.”
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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. In this snippet, we find how Friedrich took his first steps into the world’s oldest profession.
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 stood in front of the door, staring at the worn brown paint, the battered number plate. He hated this, going hat in hand to someone who was practically a stranger, neighbor or not.
And having to ask someone like Gunter Strauss for money rankled. Tall and effeminate, the man was a performer at one of the nightclubs down on Alexanderplatz. Friedrich suspected that he was also a transvestite, from the carefully plucked eyebrows and traces of makeup the man occasionally sported. But Strauss was kind to Lilli and Rudi, and he always had money.
Unlike Friedrich, who had spent the last twenty years, man and boy, serving in the German army, as his father and grandfather had done before him, as every male von Bader had done since the rise of the Prussian Empire. But after the Great War and the enforced reduction of the German army, there was no room for hereditary soldiers. Friedrich abruptly found himself retired, unemployable, and with two dependents to support in a Berlin he hardly recognized anymore.
He steeled himself and knocked.
After a moment, the door opened, revealing a slender man in a lavish rose satin bed jacket and matching pajamas. His arched eyebrows rose even higher when he saw Friedrich. “Ah, Herr von Bader. How lovely to see you again,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
Friedrich forced down the irritation that always rose with Strauss’s outrageous flirting. “Herr Strauss,” he said formally. “I need to ask — that is, I was wondering if you could do me — us — a favor.”
Strauss smirked at that. “Possibly, depending on what it was. But I never negotiate on an empty stomach. You’d better come in.”
Reluctantly, Friedrich followed him into the flat. Unlike his own, Strauss’s flat boasted simple furniture but in a vibrant array of colors and fabrics, with brightly tinted feather boas draped over the lintels and a wide swath of what looked like purple silk covering the sitting room window in place of drapes. The wall across from the window was covered with a bewildering array of playbills, posters and other advertisements from nightclubs and cabarets across Berlin.
“So, you were saying something about a favor?” Strauss threw over his shoulder, sauntering into the tiny dining area.
Friedrich spotted the silverware and loaded plate on the dining table, and flushed in embarrassment. “You’re eating. I’m sorry, I can come back later–“
“Nein, it doesn’t bother me.” Strauss sat at the table, picking up his fork. “Go on.”
“I — we need to borrow some money.” He took a deep breath, and his stomach gurgled at the heavenly smell of Strauss’s dinner. “It’s for Rudi, you see. He’s sick again.”
“Poor child.” Strauss took a delicate bite of his sauerbrauten. “I suppose I could lend you something, but really, Herr von Bader, I’m not made of money.”
Friedrich swallowed. “I know, Herr Strauss, and I know how much we already owe you–“
The man waved his fork airily. “None of that. I gave what I did willingly, but there is only so much I can do, even for someone as charming as you.” He smiled at Friedrich’s discomfort. “And your sister-in-law, of course.”
Friedrich’s stomach picked that moment to rumble again, more loudly this time. He felt his face get even hotter as Strauss chuckled at him. “No, don’t blush. All men get hungry. It’s the way of the world,” the slender man said, dabbing at his lips with his napkin. He rose, gesturing at the seat across the table. “Sit. I’ll make you a plate.”
“No, that’s not necessary–”
“Stop being such a Junker, von Bader. You’re hungry. I have food. Sit.” With a flourish, Strauss moved to the tiny stove.
Suddenly exhausted, Friedrich dropped into the seat. Moments later, a steaming plate of roast beef, spätzle and red cabbage was deposited in front of him. The smell of the meat in particular made his mouth water. They hadn’t been able to afford any for a month.
“Eat, eat,” Strauss said gently, taking his seat again.
It took all of Friedrich’s military discipline not to fall on the food like a starving wolf. Gripping his cutlery, he forced himself to cut small portions of the meat, wrapping noodles and cabbage around each forkful before devouring it. Before the war, he would have turned his nose up at the pedestrian meal. Now, it was ambrosia.
Across the table, Strauss lit a cigarette and watched him eat. “I take it the job hunt hasn’t been successful?”
Friedrich chewed and swallowed, shaking his head. “They keep asking about my qualifications,” he muttered. “I’m qualified to be a colonel in the German army. Not a lot of call for that these days.”
“Hmm.” Strauss took a contemplative drag, letting the smoke stream from the corner of his mouth as he gave Friedrich a long, thoughtful look. “Well, there’s not much work for anyone, really. But there are other ways to make money.”
Friedrich paused, fork in mid-air. “I won’t join the gangs,” he said bluntly.
“God in heaven, no,” Strauss said, waving a languid hand. “You’re far too law-abiding and upright for a criminal gang. Besides, it’s too much risk for too little money.” He paused, nodding to himself. “No, I was thinking of something else. More along the line of, shall we say, services?”
Friedrich frowned. “You mean, like a valet?”
“Oh, you’re a delight,” the singer chortled. “No, I meant personal services, von Bader. Very personal, very … pleasurable.”
Strauss’s meaning dropped on him like a lead weight. His stomach roiled, threatening to bring up its contents. “You’re joking.”
“Hardly.” Strauss puffed on his cigarette again, blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “That sort of work can pay quite well, you know, depending on the circumstances. And with your looks and manner, you’d have quite the clientele in no time. I can introduce you to the right people, if you like.”
Friedrich put his fork down. Like that, his appetite was gone. “You are seriously suggesting that I become…” The words ‘a whore’ sat on his tongue like bitter fruit.
“I am suggesting that you use what Heaven has blessed you with to make money and support your family,” Strauss said gently. “We can’t afford our treasured German morality anymore, colonel. The damned Americans and British made sure of that. So turn the tables and make some money off of them. God knows they have more than enough of it.” The singer leaned back, running a fingertip along the spotless rose satin of his bed jacket. “And if you’re worried that you’ll have to swish around like me, you won’t. Plenty of customers prefer their companions to be clean-cut and masculine. All you’d have to do is show up at the club in your uniform, and you’d be beating them off with a stick.”
His eyebrows, plucked to a womanly curve, rose and fell in a flicker of humor. “Charge extra for that, by the way.”
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TWO TO TANGO on sale for 99¢ this week at Evernight
What? You mean you haven’t read my hilarious M/M SF caper novel Two to Tango yet? I’m…well, I’m crushed. But I’m also strong, so I will dab the tears from my damask cheeks and think about it all tomorrow at Tara.
Now that I’ve finished pretending to be Scarlett O’Hara, do I have a deal for you! For the next week Two to Tango is only 99 cents at Evernight Publishing. And if that isn’t enough to persuade you, here’s a little more about the story:
Rory MacLellan, AKA the Highlander, may be the most successful interstellar art thief in the Known Worlds, but he still has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.
Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and desperate, the last thing he expected was a dashing thief to come along and save his life.
Thrown together by accident and with interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or prove that they were meant to be together?
A peek behind the writing curtain
If you ever read through one of those “How to succeed in writing and get readers” articles that proliferate around the Internet, you’ll notice that a recurring suggestion is, “Connect with your readers in social media. Don’t spam them with ‘buy my books’ pleas — instead, chat with them, be engaging, and let them get to know you.”
So guess what? This is me chatting with you and letting you get to know me a little better. I am going to talk to you like I would talk to my good friend and partner in crime Stretch over an iced coffee at our local ‘Bucks. Ready? Here we go.
Why the fuck did I ever agree to have five cats?
This wasn’t supposed to happen, I swear to God. See, 12 years ago Ramón and I did discuss getting a cat after tootling around Europe and Canada for a good eight years, which is how we wound up with JJ, my black velvet purrmonster and bodyguard.
Well, I say we wound up with him, when what really happened was I walked up to his cage at PetSmart during an adoption weekend just as a couple moved away. He eyed me, then got on his hind legs so that he could reach out and boop me on the nose. A lady next to me cooed, “Oh, that’s so cute — it looked like he picked you!”
I am not one to ignore a sign.
So JJ was Cat One, and is still with us today. Cat Two arrived a few months later when Ramón decided that JJ should have a buddy and brought home a fluffy little tuxedo cat named Jordan who quickly decided that he wanted to be cuddled at all times and his rightful resting place was on my boobs.
JJ and Jordan got along for a few years, then I accidentally tore out a tuft of Jordan’s fur by rolling my office chair wheel over it. He yowled understandably in pain, and JJ came charging into the room thinking that Jordan was attacking me and went after him. Unfortunately, things remained tense between the two of them for the rest of Jordan’s life (we lost Jordan in 2013 to feline GI lymphoma), although we did manage a couple of moments of detente here and there.
Cats Three and Four came three years ago when Ramón started mooning about the idea of getting a little girl cat. I kinda blew it off as a, “Yeah, maybe someday, sweetie” thing until a writer friend of mine betrayed me most foully by cornering Ramón at a party and showing him pictures of her cat’s newest kittens, including a beautiful little grey tabby.
So we wound up over at D’s house meeting the frisky, feisty little tabby kitten and playing with her. Within two minutes, Ramón was in love and I knew we were bringing home a third cat–
Oh, and this was her little orange brother, D caroled, who did EVERYTHING with her. And they had to give away two of the kittens, and gosh, it would be nice if the kittens could stay together? I swear, the woman dimpled at me.
Which is how we wound up with Jeremy (aka Jer-Bear, The Orange Lump, and Jeremy, You Idiot when I’m trying to cook and he insists on sprawling right behind my feet) and Jessica (aka Jessica Fletcher — Murder She Purred, Jessie, and Jessicle-Bessicle). Together they’re referred to as the Twins, and their kittenhood was freaking hilarious before they turned into the big bruisers they are today.
So until September 19, 2013 we had the Boys and the Twins. After Jordan passed away we talked about getting another cat, but there was the anniversary cruise, and then the holidays, and all the while I was trying to get Breaker Zone and Two to Tango finished and off to Evernight, and frankly I was carrying a huge horking pile of guilt over not recognizing Jordan’s illness until way late in the game (we couldn’t have stopped it — cats just don’t come back from GI lymphoma — but we could have started palliative care earlier). So it was late May when Ramón mentioned that a woman on one of his gaming boards had to give away two of her cats due to life complications and did we want to go over and meet them?
Un petit problem, I pointed out. She has two cats and we only wanted one.
Oh, we’re only going to take one, he said confidently.
You already know where this is going, don’t you?
So we go over and meet this lady, her husband, and the cats. One of them, a little tortie girl, immediately captured our hearts by coming straight to us. Her sister, a tiny charcoal grey tabby girl, was also sweet if extremely shy. But since we were only going to take one (stop laughing) we said we’d take the tortie. Great, the woman said, someone else already said they’d take the charcoal tabby. We made plans to come back the next day, Monday, with a carrier.
The next morning, Ramón approached me with a very hesitant look on his face. “Um, you remember how they said that they had someone else to take the tabby?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Well, apparently that fell through, although this family might be able to take her in a month. The problem is, C’s moving on Thursday. So…”
Because I have SUCKER written on my forehead in invisible ink that only cats, desperate owners, and my husband can see, we wound up taking both cats with an agreement to foster the tabby until the other family was ready for her. Needless to say, that quickly fell by the wayside and we decided to keep both cats, naming them Jemma and Jasmine (the vet refers to our cats as the J Crew).
But now we had a bigger problem — we had to introduce two 18-month-old female cats to a 3-year-old female cat and convince them to get along. If you know cats at all, you’re probably laughing heartily right now. Ramón did admit later on that he’d assumed it would be easier to get two females because “they would get along better with Jessie than boy cats would with Jeremy and JJ.”
I was very proud of myself for not clouting him around the earhole. Instead, I suggested he look up the matriarchal structure of cat prides and set myself to get Jessie acclimatized to Jemma (the tortie) and Jasmine (the charcoal tabby). The Girls, as we now called them, lived in isolation in our guest room for two weeks until I started putting baby gates up all the way to the lintel top so that the cats could see each other. As you can guess, Jessie was not thrilled about her new sisters, and Jem and Jaz weren’t exactly impressed with her, either.
Slowly, and with at least one major setback, we finally got the Girls permanently out of the guest room and into general population. This happened on Saturday. Unfortunately, this event was accompanied by a veritable deluge of cat pee in various rooms and on pieces of furniture as Jessie expressed her displeasure at having these little snots growling and screeching at her all the time.
As a result, since Saturday I have had to:
- Haul two couch cushions and the pull out mattress pad into the back yard, treat them with Bac-Out, rinse them and let them dry in the sun.
- Treat and wash all the couch covers. Twice.
- Treat and wash two smaller couch cushions.
- Treat and wash the dining room table, the wall next to the table, and the floor under the table (I swear I have no idea how it got EVERYWHERE).
- Throw out the papers on the dining room table that were now soaked in cat urine.
- Treat and wash Ramón’s camera bag and accessories cases (luckily his SLR was untouched. An old medium format camera that he’d bought in England, however, wasn’t quite as lucky).
- Upend the guest room bed and shampoo under it, since the Girls peed there at least three times. When that didn’t quite work, I then had to buy two gallon jugs of Nature’s Miracle Advance Formula and liberally soak the carpet with it. I know from experience that this will work, but it means I have to let it sit there for at least three days before shampooing the carpet again.
I still haven’t gotten around to treating and cleaning Ramón’s brand new luggage bag which Jessie had also peed in, bless her stubborn little heart. On Tuesday I went into our vet’s office and begged for a bag of the kitty-Prozac-laced cat food that she’d told me about last week when I had Jessie in for her checkup (I’d told her about about the integration issues). So far it seems to be calming everyone down a bit, but our old guy JJ’s GI system isn’t adjusting too quickly to the new food even though I’m mixing it with his usual stuff, so he’s had the runs for the past two days. The actual turds are making it into the litter box, mostly, but he’s wiping his butt on the carpet right outside the downstairs bathroom. So, tra la, more Bac-Out has been used (seriously, that stuff is golden when it comes to getting out vomit stains and pee smell. I only used Nature’s Miracle for the GR carpet because it came in gallon jugs) to clean up THAT mess while reassuring him that I still love him and we’ll do something about his tummy.
Did I mention that I’ve been trying to work on Behind the Iron Cross in between all of this? Argh. And yes, I know Ramón is also capable of cleaning up cat pee (and has done it numerous times), but he’s in a crunch period at work and this week has been insane for him, so the bulk of the cleaning duties have fallen on me. That being said, after Jessie nailed the couch for the second time he said, “I am buying you a present for dealing with this because it was my idea to bring them home. Anything you want, just name it.”
Not batting an eyelash, I told him I wanted a make your own violin kit (yes, these really exist). “Done,” he said. So it looks like I’ll be making a violin over the winter during writing breaks. Assuming the cats don’t pee on that as well.
So, yeah, that’s been my life for the last week. I’m so glad we had this chat, and you got this little peek behind the writing curtain. Next week, I’ll tell you all about my frigging malfunctioning ovaries and how they may have screwed up my upcoming cruise with a delayed Shark Week. Whee!
Guess what I did this morning?
Everyone who liked my Breaker Zone MWT snippets is about to be very happy because — ta-da — I signed the publishing contract with Evernight this morning! Breaker Zone should be coming out either in late November or early December, and I cannot wait to see the cover art and make the trailer for this one.
Of course, that also means that I need to get cracking on Olympic Cove 3 because waiting eighteen months between books is not fun (I mean, who do I think I am, George R.R. Martin?). Right now the working title is Deep Water, and this one will be a little different in that it’s going to be a MMF story.
MM lovers, come back! There’s going to be plenty of hot man-on-man action for you, I promise. The initial pairing will be Poseidon (I TOLD you he was going to get his own book) and a gruff British oceanographer named Griffin Parkes who wants to spend a peaceful week at Olympic Cove before going into hospice care for his terminal cancer. But the God of the Ocean isn’t giving up that easily, especially when he recognizes Griffin as the long-lost agapetos of himself and his consort Amphitrite. Now, Poseidon must seduce a quite straight Griffin in order to save his life, then figure out how to bring Amphitrite back into their triad.
Can a still-grieving Amphitrite forgive Poseidon for the ancient betrayal that destroyed their marriage? Will the blunt, pragmatic Griffin be able to accept not only a male lover, but the fact that he’s a mythological figure reborn? Will Poseidon be able to bring the two loves of his life back together, or is he destined to lose Griffin and Amphitrite yet again? And what plans does Thetis have for this triad? And gads, how are Bythos and Aphros going to react to the idea of their parents, you know, doing it?
Only time will tell, mwahahahahaha. (And I can see Ceit staring at the screen and screaming, “WHAT? You, I, buh, WHAT?” Don’t worry, sweetie, I already have you down as one of the betas.)
In which I am a little frustrated about the lack of literary Dommes
So I was wandering around the intertubes as you do, and I read this piece over at Herosandheartbreakers.com about the top 5 Dommes in kinky romance. One line in particular jumped out at me:
(Linger by Joey W. Hill) was the first BDSM story that I read with a dominant heroine. I was hesitant at first, and I know I’ve heard the same thing from many readers about Linger…they just don’t know if they’re going to enjoy that role reversal.
Really? Because I know I would freaking kill or die to read a good BDSM erotic romance with a Domme. Or even better, a good BDSM erotic romance that didn’t feature a Domme who secretly wants to submit to a man. I can’t tell you how many times I bought a promising-looking novel with a Domme/sub relationship only to find out halfway through that she was just doing it for the money, or she’s “secretly fragile,” or damaged somehow, or she’s in danger and the sub has to protect her, or just needs to meet the right man at which point poof, all her Domme tendencies disappear.
Hear that whooshing noise? That’s my suspension of disbelief disappearing. Yes, there is such a thing as dom drop, and not all Dommes want to be in charge all the time. But that identification doesn’t go away just because you need a break. I understand the appeal of the Dom/sub relationship and why a submissive woman would want to serve a loving, sexy Dom who takes care of all of her needs in return for her service/submission/obedience/etc. I also understand why these stories appeal to so many women who are juggling a career, a home, kids, and a husband, and sometimes just want to hand over the reins and be taken care of for a change. Hoo, boy, I understand that. It’s totally cool, and I fully support such stories and the writers and readers who love them.
But when it comes to me, I want to read about a Domme because that’s what twists my wick. Please God, I just want to read a book where a well-adjusted, happy Domme meets up with a sub and they have great scenes together and she isn’t:
- just doing it for the money
- in some sort of danger that only he can protect her from
- emotionally damaged
- secretly wanting to submit to him
- some sort of general damsel in distress who just happens to wear leather and wield a crop
I’m trying to think of how many stories I’ve found that fit that description, and to be honest the only one I can think of is Shoshanna Evers’ Dominatrix Fantasy trilogy (holla!). And yes, if you can think of more please let me know because I’d love to check them out.
Mind you, there are excellent books with women who are Switches; Tiffany Reisz’s Nora Sutherlin from the Original Sinners series comes to mind, as does Tymber Dalton’s character Tilda in Cardinal’s Rule. Both these characters start out as subs and discover their inner Domme tendencies as the stories progress, and they totally and utterly rock. I just want to see more stories with characters like Nora and Tilda who happen to start off as Dommes and stay Dommes all the way through the story.
So, yeah, if you ever wondered the impetus behind me writing Behind the Iron Cross, now you know. And I can assure you right here and now that Katherine Tracy has no intention of suddenly handing over the reins to Friedrich just because she’s fallen in love with him. They both know what they want, and that’s him tied naked and hard in her bed, ready to submit to his Fräulein.
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 rather tense teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. In this snippet, Friedrich is attending a masked ball/orgy at a church-themed nightclub with Kat and Sam and spots General Gerhard Hauptmann, the man who recruited him to spy on them. What he learns next will shock him.
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 glanced into the grotto as they passed, then did a double-take. Inside, dressed in a Roman toga that Caesar himself would envy, was Hauptmann, sitting next to the American businessman. They laughed over drinks, all the while caressing what he could only assume were three whores dressed in flimsy tunics and vaguely Roman hairstyles, all piled curls and wrapped ribbons.
“Come on.” He felt Sam’s hand on his arm, and let himself be tugged away, back to their grotto. Something gnawed at him, something that had first raised its head during that horrible dream about Hauptmann and the Somme.
Sam plopped down next to Kat, managing not to spill a drop of their drinks. “Guess who’s here tonight?”
“Darling, half of Berlin is here tonight,” she said lazily. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“You’re right. Guess who’s here tonight whose head you’d really like to see on a pike?”
Her expression dimmed, going cold. “Brayburn?”
“The one and only. Looks like he’s entertaining, too. Some big blond with one of those military mustaches.”
Kat put down her drink. “Going grey at the temples? With a small scar on his right cheek?”
Friedrich went cold at her description of the general. “Yes, that’s the man,” Sam said, puzzled. “You know him?”
“Arthur warned me about him. His name is Gerhard Hauptmann. He was a German army general until he got cashiered for almost beating a corporal to death. According to Arthur, he’s become quite the eminence grise for the Black Arrow. Taught them military tactics for fighting the other gangs, how to rig an ambush, things like that.”
The sensation in Friedrich’s stomach grew, turning into a spiked ball of guilt and recognition. The Black Arrow, the gang that Oskar had worked for. The one that had raped Lilli, that had almost killed Rudi. “How long has he worked for the Black Arrow,” he blurted.
Kat glanced at him, brows coming down. “For well over a year, now, according to Arthur. Brayburn supposedly hired him as a sort of local guide, but Arthur thinks Hauptmann’s been using his gang connections to bully various executives into signing their companies over to Brayburn.”
Friedrich clutched the edge of the tiny table, knuckles white. It took him a moment before he registered the Fräulein’s warm hand covering one of his. “Colonel, what’s wrong? Do you know this man?”
Oskar’s death, Lilli’s assault and his own guilt tangled together on his tongue, colored now with a rising film of purest rage. He nodded once, sucking in a deep breath. “I — I’ll be right back.”
He stood up and lurched out of the grotto, ignoring their questions. Guilt and fury pounded in his head, coloring everything red. He needed to find Hauptmann, strangle the traitorous bastard with his own hands, rip his throat out for what he’d done to Oskar and Lilli, what he’d persuaded Friedrich to do.
Oh, you stupid bastard. You believed him, and you gave him everything he wanted.
As he approached the Brayburn grotto, he could only see the American businessman and his whores lounging on the purple couches there. He turned, pushing through the heaving throng, scanning for his prey. Ahead, he saw a familiar head disappear into a door labeled HERREN.
He followed.
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Fabulous Friday Reads: Double Jackson
Let’s kick off this lovely September weekend with the amazing Raven McAllan and her saucy new erotic romance Double Jackson, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Here are a few words from Raven on the origins of the book:
When I sat down to write this blog, I realized how lucky I am, doing what I love, writing stories. The fact people seem to enjoy them is a bonus, and one I never stop giving thanks for. I couldn’t not write, I feel as if something is missing if I don’t connect with my characters every day, even just for a few minutes. As my long-suffering hubby says, have lap top will travel. (It’s amazing how much you can write on long haul)
Double Jackson, or Jackson for short is one of those stories that hit you, and demand to be told.
I’ve no idea where the idea came from, I just know I woke up one morning and started to write it. It was very definitely character driven, and one of the minor characters, Tina the housekeeper, nagged me all the time I wrote. It was as if she were in the room with me, looking over my shoulder…
Not only does she keep all the characters in the book in their place, she very definitely did it to me as well.
I think it worked.
Jackson Carrick at Tits and Bum Club—gay in more ways than one.
As morning wake up calls go, those damning headlines made for a rude awakening. The renowned actor is a one man guy, thank you very much, so why would a doppelganger set out to discredit him, and more importantly, who is it?
As the mystery unravels and loyalties are tested, Jackson has to rely on his husband, housekeeper, and friends to keep his reputation from swirling down the drain.
Fortunately, Jackson’s husband Collum knows just how to keep his man from worrying. Only one thing to do when you’re stuck inside waiting for news—lots of mind-blowing sex.
Story Excerpt
(Fizz is Tina’s twin, and Jack’s agent.)
Jack took hold of the phone as if it were a time bomb about to go off. Which, Coll decided it might well be. He stared at Jack, and willed his positive thoughts to be heard as Jack connected the call.
“Hi, Fizz. Hold on, I want to put this on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat it to Coll.”
“Where are you? No don’t tell me if it’s too much information. Are you at home?” Her voice was loud and tinny in the room. “Do you have today’s paper handy? Is there a clock or three around? Are you decent?” The staccato questions came thick and fast. “Jack?”
Coll’s eyes widened and he shook his head at his lover’s silent question. He had no idea what the inquisition was all about.
“Kitchen? With iPad and phone?” Jack could be as brusque as the next person when it was warranted. “Naked.”
“That’ll do.” Fizz’s voice ebbed and flowed as the signal changed strength. “Well, not the naked bit. Clothed. Plus a paper or two and remember, decently dressed. Do it now and send it to me please. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. About ten minutes, I reckon.” The phone went dead.
Jack looked at Coll, who raised one eyebrow.
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, fuck. Her ten is five. I don’t think she means in our birthday suits.” Jack pinched Coll’s left nipple and rolled of the bed to land on his feet.
“Bastard. I wish I was that agile.” Coll sat up, stretched and then stood up slowly.
“Ha. If you had to do the stuff I do in this series you’d be limber as well. Problem is at the end I’ll be arthritic and stiff as an excited cock everywhere, not just in my dick.” He jogged into the bathroom, and with a wry grin, Coll followed him.
Jack had the shower on full blast. As Coll watched he spun round under the water three times and got out.
“Over to you. I’ll go hunt up iPads and stuff.” Jack rubbed his hands over his hair and snagged a towel as he moved swiftly away.
“Cover up your jiggles then,” Coll called after him. “No cock rock on display.”
A whistle was his reply.
Coll wasn’t under the water much longer than it took to wash any traces of sex from his body, and soak his sweat-slicked hair. He flicked a towel across his body in the hope some water would be caught and absorbed and then pulled on a clean t-shirt before he ignored boxers, and thrust his damp legs into linen trousers and deck shoes. The material of the trousers chafed his skin and he wriggled uncomfortably. Maybe he should have donned underwear after all. The last thing he wanted was a rash on his cock from the nylon thread they used in his clothes.
It was too late. He heard the deep-throated rumble of a powerful motorbike and guessed Fizz had arrived.
Coll took the stairs two at a time. He arrived in the hall as the knocker crashed onto the wood with such force he wouldn’t have been surprised to see it emerge through the panel and an attached hand still thumping away.
He pulled the door open and Fizz almost fell into the foyer.
“Have you taken that picture yet?” she demanded in a breathless voice as she took off her helmet and put it on top of an old-fashioned hat stand.
“Good afternoon, Fizz. Not yet, sorry. How are you, Coll? I’m fine, thank you, Fizz, how are you?” Coll said sarcastically. “Would you like to take a breath before or after you hit me over the head for my tardiness?” The look he received would wither the hardest cock.
“Funny, ha, ha. I need that photo like an hour ago.”
“Difficult.” Jack had entered the hall unnoticed. “We didn’t know you wanted it, and it would have been a TMI photo.”
Fizz made a noise like a particularly upset wildcat. Jack sniggered. “Knickers in a twist, Fizz?”
“No, but your nuts will be in a nutcracker before you can say walnut or pecan if we don’t get stuff sorted out pretty damned quick. Let me take a damned photo.” She snapped the words irritably. “Where?”
“Kitchen. I was setting it up.”
“I don’t want a set up,” Fizz followed Jack into the kitchen, and Coll followed the two if them.
If he was a ladies’ man, then Fizz’s ass would be everything you could ask for. Not for the first time he wondered why she was single with no guy—or woman in sight.
Coll made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Coffee?”
“After.” Fizz didn’t look up from her phone. “Okay, it’s still okay. Get sorted. No, not like that. Who lines up three clocks and props a newspaper up for a selfie for no reason? I want natural.”
“If we’d known an hour ago you could have had au naturel.”
Where to Buy
Evernight
Amazon
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
About Raven McAllan
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Nicola Cameron Writes 