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 the last teaser from “The Art of Grant Management,” which will be coming out in Evernight’s Executive Assistant Manlove Edition. And you can thank all the people who kept saying, “We want to see MORE of Peter and Quincy” for this tease!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
###
“I’m not what you would call … experienced. I’ve played before, but it was some time ago.”
He pulled back and saw a contemplative Quincy. “Are you willing to learn?” the smaller man asked. “I’ll help you, but you’ll need to follow my lead at times.”
Peter smirked. “More topping from the bottom?”
“For awhile. Although I get the feeling you’ll pick things up very quickly.” Quincy’s entire stance changed, becoming more pliant and far more deliciously submissive. “So, what exactly do you like, Sir?”
“Doctor, if you don’t mind.”
The admin rolled his eyes. “Why does that not surprise me? Doctor,” he added belatedly.
Peter allowed himself a thin smile. “You’ll pay for that, pet.” He settled into the dominance, feeling it close around him like a well-loved jacket unworn for far too long. “As for what I like, I enjoy controlling my partner’s pleasure and orgasm,” he continued. “Teasing them, making them beg, drawing everything out until all they can think of is me. I’ll use whatever appeals to me to achieve that — bondage and discipline, edging, orgasm denial, sensual torture.” One corner of his mouth quirked higher. “I have to admit, I’m not much of an out and out sadist. I hope you weren’t after that.”
“Nope. I’m a sucky masochist.”
“Mm.” He pressed against Quincy, feeling the other man’s growing erection against his thigh. “That being said, what about spankings?”
Quincy shivered. “Oh, well. Those are really, really necessary,” he breathed. “Like, on a daily basis. Because I don’t know if you noticed this at all, but I’m kinda mouthy.”
“Oh, I noticed. Take off your tie.”
Two minutes later, Quincy was over his lap, trousers pulled down around his knees. The admin’s hands were bound behind his back with Peter’s tie, and his own tie had been carefully knotted and shoved in his mouth as a gag. Peter ran his fingertips over the cool, firm mounds of Quincy’s ass, enjoying the feel of muscle with just the right amount of padding. It would jiggle deliciously during a spanking.
He leaned to the left, eying Quincy’s reddening face. The pressure of the man’s erect cock against his right thigh indicated just how much the admin was enjoying this. “Safeword?” he inquired.
Quincy gave three short grunts. “Good. I think I’m going to start you off easy,” Peter said. “Let’s say ten swats because it’s a nice round number?”
He stiffened his hand and struck, jolting Quincy forward and eliciting a surprised grunt. Lifting his palm, he saw a perfect pink outline of outstretched fingers on the other man’s skin. “That’s one.”
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New from Evernight: Planet Alpha #planetalpha
Announcing Evernight Publishing’s exclusive series…
PLANET ALPHA
The year is 2050. Earth is quickly becoming uninhabitable. The seven continents are shrinking as flooding devastates the land masses. Crime and disorder are rampant among the dwindling human population.
There are only two safe havens in the galaxy capable of supporting humanoid life. Xyran is a world of power-hungry demons and Planet Alpha is home to a fearless warrior race.
The males on Planet Alpha need mates. Infertility has plagued their race for decades. The answer lies on Earth where tempting females are waiting to be saved. When their enemies attempt to claim the spoils of a dying world, only the strongest will get their prize.
The first book in this sci-fi ménage series is here:
BONDMATE by J.J. Lore
BONDMATE is now available on Evernight Publishing and most major online book retailers.
BROKEN by Erin M. Leaf
(Coming May 16)
PROPOSITION by Beth D. Carter
(Coming Soon)
Look for more PLANET ALPHA books coming soon to Evernight!
Well, THIS has been a good day
NOTE: THIS BIT IS NOT WRITING RELATED. SKIP DOWN IF YOU WANT TO READ THAT. After five days of work, I finally got our garage completely cleaned and organized. When we had moved in six years ago we’d stuck a LOT of stuff in there as kind of an interim storage space while we worked on getting the house put together. A month or so after we had moved in, however, my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer and everything pertaining to unpacking pretty much fell by the wayside for quite some time. As the garage was pretty much “out of sight, out of mind,” we never really went in there to unpack at all.
In my defense, I did clean up the space a bit a few years ago, but I didn’t go through all the boxes, storage bins, et al to find out what the hell had been shoved where. This is what happened this week — I installed new hanging storage hardware, stabilized the homemade workbench, pulled everything out of our storage shelving units, disassembled the units, swept under them, reassembled the units and added a new one, and then went box by box until I had everything organized in a much more sensible manner (also found all of our power tools, which was a frigging blessing).
I also decided that, er, it was probably time to finish refurbing the Singer treadle sewing machine base that’s been in pieces for lo these last thirteen years, mainly so that it didn’t take up storage space anymore in the garage. If I get a move on, I may actually have the sucker done by Monday or so.
THIS IS THE WRITING RELATED BIT. While I was in mid-clean, I heard my phone tweet at me (I bring my cell phone in the garage so that I have something to read when I’m taking a break). I sat down to take said break, called up Twitter, and found to my delight that I’d won a concrete poetry mini-challenge run by my favorite blogger/artist/performer in cinema sans culottes Colby Keller. To double my delight, the marvelous Mr. Keller had recorded a short YouTube clip of himself reading my poem (which turned out to be rather challenging, as I’d done a complicated outline with my words. Poor Colby, he’s such a good sport).
One of the reasons why I’m so pleased with this is that I’ve always considered myself to be a rather crap poet. It’s the one writing form that doesn’t come easily to me, although I do enjoy reading poetry. So to win a mini-challenge like this was a nice shot of writing egoboo.
In other writing news, I’m plowing ahead with Breaker Zone and it looks like I’ll have it done and submitted by the end of May, yay! In retrospect, I really am kinda happy I took such a long break with it, because the changes in characterization I’ve made (and frankly, the improvement in my writing skills) will hopefully make it a much better book. Also, I need to get it done and off my plate so that I can get to the 22 other books on the To Be Written List. Whee!
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.”
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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.
Nicola Cameron Writes 