November 22, 2010

For Delightful Reads

check out Raine Delight , a superb author with an imagination you will definitely enjoy. Here is her latest;

FAIRY KISSES & MAGICAL DREAMS
Raine Delight
ISBN 978-1-60168-153-9
Aspen Mountain Press

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BLURB:
Prince Aryan has searched his world for the one woman that is his destined mate but has just about given up when he is led to the human world. Even though it is forbidden to fall in love with a human, he finds Skye Andrews completely delectable and wonders if she is his chosen love.

Skye Andrews has had it with men. After another disastrous date, her aunt gives her a love potion to try. With a magic spell and a mysterious face haunting her waking days, will Skye find the love she is looking for?

EXCERPT:
I must be insane to think a magic potion will help me find my own Mr. Right. Why is it I can’t find the one man who loves me? Skye got her things ready and stepped into the bathroom. All my friends have someone and here I’m still looking for that one man to steal my soul with his kisses.

Why is it I only seem to attract the ones who were either married, a playboy or a rat in sheep’s clothing? Skye thought. I know I’m not bad looking. I’m not a typical blond, bubbly type of person, who has guys buzzing around them like bees at a flower. Why is it I only seem to attract the wrong type of guys? Do I have Losers please apply stamped on my forehead?

Looking in the mirror as she undressed, Skye saw a woman with shoulder length, flame red hair, violet eyes, and a heart shaped face with full lips. As her shirt came off and bared her to the mirror, she saw her full breasts. The bane of her teenage years, she was sure they’d fit in the right man’s hands. Her flat stomach tapered down into her long lean legs. Turning to check the water temperature, she caught sight of her dimpled ass in the reflection. Groaning softly, Skye wished she had one that made men want to grab it, but hundreds of butt crunches didn’t make a difference.

Sliding into the water, she moaned softly as the heat soothed her stiff muscles. She made another wish to find her true love before the end of the month and finished the last of her wine. Where is the one man who will turn my life inside out and capture my heart?

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There are many places to catch up with Raine and her excellent work. Here are a few; website, Raine’s Book Nook Blog , Author Reader Loop, and Twitter.

Raine loves to hear from readers. Feel free to email her any time.

I’ll be back Wednesday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 18, 2010

OUT ON THE NET

Rick R. Reed has done it again, created a book apropos for today’s world and rich with meaning. OUT ON THE NET follows the journey of one man in the modern world to find love.

This poignant book is a must read and one you will enjoy.

OUT ON THE NET
Rick R. Reed
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-017-7
Amber Quill Press – Amber Allure

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BLURB:
Ray Tolliver has bad timing. Cold feet? It doesn’t get much worse than accepting you’re gay twenty minutes before your wedding to a woman, yet that’s just what happens.

Join Ray as he recounts in his blog the hilarious and touching events that lead him on a journey toward true love. Although he goes looking for love in all the wrong places, will he eventually find another man who wants more than just quick sex? A man who appreciates romance, hearts, and flowers? Or will he find that self-acceptance and bliss do not always go hand-in-hand?

And what of Alice, Ray’s lovely, jilted fiancée? Will she find it in her heart to forgive the man who left her at the altar?

These questions and more are answered in this unique love story, told in the form of blog entries. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, but you’ll come away from Out On the Net with a renewed appreciation for the power and difficulties of loving not only others, but yourself.

EXCERPT:

Blog Entry #2: An Explanation

Before I get any further into my little tale of woe, it’s only fair that I tell you a bit about myself, aside from the “about me” crap you can read to the right of this blog. First off, I am a gay man. I am thirty years old, now single, and as far as sex with men goes, I am still a virgin (if you discount the groping my next-door neighbor Keith and I did that one summer in the abandoned shack in the woods when we were twelve). I am considered good-looking by some, average by my own estimation. I am five feet ten inches tall and weigh 165 pounds. I have dark brown hair, green eyes, and an olive complexion I inherited from my mom, who is of Sicilian lineage. I work in an industrial pottery in the small Ohio River town where I live, seven a.m. to three p.m. every day. I use a hose to guide liquid clay into molds that eventually become things like vases, urns, and decorative decanters. I have a high school education and two years of community college. I have lived in my small town of 12,000 all of my life.

Why am I writing a blog? Why am I baring my soul on the Internet? To get attention? Because I’m a fool? Because I’m a frustrated writer? Well, all of those things have some validity and they play into my rationale. But the real reason I wanted to put this thing up for public consumption is really pretty selfless—I want to help other people like myself not make the same mistakes I have. So if you’re out there and reading this on your Mac or your PC, I want to help you. If you’re hiding from who you really are, I hope to shed some light on that person buried in the back of the closet. I want you to know that it might be hard to come out, but it’s not impossible.

And the air out here is actually a lot easier to breathe.

I want you to know that being gay is not a choice. I had once thought that. I thought if I dated girls, got married, and did all the things society told me I was supposed to do, I would be okay. Those dreams and fantasies I had about guys would fade away as I became more entrenched in the world everyone seems to consider “normal.” Ever heard the advice: ‘fake it ‘til you make it’? I did. I thought it would work for me.

It didn’t and doesn’t.

So if my little chronicle here of my painful odyssey out of the closet gives you some pause and maybe prevents you from making one wrong turn away from being who you really are, then maybe this blog isn’t such a bad idea.

It’s simple, really. We are all who we are. Nothing more, nothing less. If you’re religious? Hey, I can relate. I was brought up in the Church (and in my family “Church” means only one: Catholic) and know a little bit about guilt and “sinning in one’s heart.” But in spite of all the dogma I absorbed growing up, I still stick with the credo I saw on a bumper sticker a few days ago—“God loves everyone. No exceptions.”

And if God can love you, you can love yourself.

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I’ll be back Friday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 15, 2010

Fall Under A Spell

with our featured author and good friend Tabitha Shay.

Tabitha is the author of paranormal romances, Witch’s Brew, Witch’s Heart, Witch‘s Moon, Witch’s Magic, and Witch’s Fire.

Her books have been nominated for several awards, including the prestigious P.E.A.R.L. Award for Witch’s Magic and Witch’s Moon. Both were nominated for Best All Around Paranormal in 2008.

Tabitha is also the author of the Montana Men, a contemporary western romance series.

Jaydyn Chelcee is Tabitha’s other pen name and has three terrific books to her credit, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred and Too Close to the Fire .

Now, please allow me to give you a glimpse into the wonderful world of Tabitha Shay.

WITCH’S FIRE
Tabitha Shay
ISBN: 1451509723
Moongypsy Press

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BLURB:
In a world where magic is dying―two people meet under unusual circumstances…

REALM OF LIGHT―New to this witchy stuff, Kirrah Walker crashes her broom into a stranger and knocks him unconscious. Feeling guilty, she takes him home with her and nurses him back to health. However, she soon discovers a terrible secret―the stranger is on a mission to assassinate a witch. Now Kirrah must decide if she’ll set him free or keep him tied to the headboard of her bed…

WORLD OF DARKNESS―Prince Stry, future King of Ru-Noc awakens to find he’s not only a captive, but captivated by the charming witch who flutters around him like a nervous butterfly. Her magick is wild and so out of control, he knows in his heart he should steal her soul, but kissing Kirrah is habit-forming.

Kirrah and Stry―magical beings who must face the fear of their past, acknowledge their future and trust in destiny in a world gone mad…

EXCERPT:
She sighed, shoved up her sleeves and went to work dragging off his low-heeled boots and socks. Carefully, she swung his legs onto the bed. Only―somehow her legs tangled with his. She stumbled and fell clumsily across the poor man’s chest.

His eyes flew open. A half-smile flirted at the corners of his mouth. Kirrah glared at him. How the heck did he manage to look so darned sexy with a big ole’ purple bruise fanning over his right eye?

Slowly, he slid his arms around her hips and squeezed her buttocks. “Well, hel-lo.”

Kirrah widened her eyes. Oh, crap, that’s all she needed, a concussed Romeo with a sexy voice hot enough to curl her toes and set her thighs on fire, a voice that both compelled and could easily lead a woman astray.

The man looked at her as if he’d never seen her before and had just discovered his favorite eye-candy. “Aren’t you just a sweet little beauty?” he purred, sounding for all the world like a hungry cat whose appetite had just been satisfied. A big, dopey, contented cat.

Sweet little beauty? She blinked. Oh, yeah, the man was definitely off his meds. Obviously he was no stranger to seduction 101, either, if the way he massaged her butt was anything to go by.

And damn, did he have to have such dreamy bedroom eyes? Tiny gold specks sparkled like angel dust in the warm amber depths. Thick gold tipped lashes completed the allure of his heavy lidded gaze. He had the kind of gold-flecked irises that attracted a woman and sucked her right in.

He might as well wear a sign around his neck that read: Come and get it, sinful indulgence right here! And boy was she ready to go get it.

Her brows knitted together in a deep scowl. What was wrong with her? All of a sudden her hormones were out of control? She wondered if her face was as red as it felt. Since she had red hair, her complexion was the fair one typical of redhead’s. She blushed as easily as she sunburned.

His gaze wondered from her hair to her lips. Oh, my. Those tiger-colored eyes fixed on her mouth. He licked his lips as though he’d just discovered a delicious snack he contemplated nibbling on.

Startled, Kirrah gasped as he suddenly tugged her closer.

Her hands splayed across his wide chest. “Uh-Mr. Wa-Wa, I think you might be getting a tad bit carried away here. Unhand me.”

“No.” One hand slid up her back and his fingers curled around her nape holding her in place. “I don’t think I should do that at all. You belong to me,” he whispered, and took her mouth.

That was the only word for it. Took. He ravaged her mouth with a slow steamy gut-wrenching kiss. Warm and wet. Hot and melting. Yum. He might be half-dead, but he had a mouth to die for and he knew how to use it.

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Tabitha’s books are also available in print and at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

Catch up with Tabitha and her exciting world on her website and blog

I’ll be back Wednesday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 10, 2010

SEDUCING LIGHT

KC KENDRIKS has a spectacular new release. Seducing Light, written with passion and a strong plot line, spotlights KC’s extraordinary talent. Below is an excerpt and blurb for your reading pleasure.

SEDUCING LIGHT
KC Kendriks
ISBN: 978-1-60272-530-0
Amber Quill Press – Amber Allure

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BLURB:
Asher Myles struggled to put his life back together after an identity thief stripped him of everything but his talent for capturing light and shadow with a camera lens. With a new job and a new start, Asher’s on his way to Montana – and a meeting with the man he’s fantasized about since he first saw him on the silver screen.

Nick Light, actor, director, and Hollywood royalty, doesn’t like paparazzi. When he agrees to have his Montana ranch photographed for a style magazine, the unexpected happens. Asher’s not the man Nick expected to find behind the camera.

Asher knows he’ll have to convince Nick they belong together, but he has an edge.

Because if there’s one thing Nick can’t resist, it’s a man with a talent for seducing light.

EXCERPT:
Nick stopped on the porch and turned around, putting one large hand in the middle of my chest. No bolt of lightning from the approaching storm could have singed me more. Suddenly he was flesh-and-blood man to me, not a movie star.

“Hold on a minute, Myles. Let’s get one thing straight before you invade my space.”

I nodded. Hell, I’d agree to anything he wanted.

“Your equipment stays in the case until I tell you that you can get it out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nick opened the door to the house, and I followed him inside. He set the case down in the spacious, two-story foyer and motioned for me to tag along behind him. The hallway opened into the grandest kitchen I’d ever seen. Taking up the entire southwest corner of the house, the room was modern, warm, and inviting. Bay windows with red and white gingham covered cushions on the window seats flanked the massive stone fireplace.

My photographer’s eye filled the room with afternoon sunlight. I had a vision of Nick Light sitting at the table in the large bay of windows, in that sunshine, smiling at me. That would be a money shot I’d never share with anyone. His voice, sharp with annoyance, brought me out of my reverie.

“Do you want something to drink, or not?”

I squared my shoulders and replied I’d take a soft drink, cola, if he had it. He nodded and pointed at the oak table in the sunny corner breakfast nook.
“Set your notebook up. I want to see your work.”

Nick placed a full lead crystal tumbler down in front of me as my laptop booted. I thanked him and drank, grateful for the cold, dark liquid fizzing its way down my parched throat. He spun the computer to face him, typed in his access code for his wireless connection, and turned it back to me.
I cleared my throat and typed the URL for my website.

“Okay, Mr. Light, here’s a little—”

“Nick. Call me Nick.”

I nodded, and hoped I didn’t stutter when I tried to say his name for the first time. “Nick. I’ll just point out that all my professional information is on the website and move on to the photos.”

“I see you have references. Are they valid?”

Fuck. He had heard the stories.

I rolled the cursor over the link and the page opened for him to see. He read the names, then nodded. “I don’t know any of them, so you won’t mind if I call them, right?”

“Sure. Call ’em. Just don’t be surprised if they don’t believe you’re Nick Light.”

He snorted again, the corner of his mouth quirking up in what might actually be a little smile. “I get that a lot, boy.”

I didn’t answer, just clicked on the slideshow and leaned back to watch it with him. His focus shifted to the screen. I watched him as the pictures scrolled. Every so often, he’d nod or cock his head, but he didn’t speak. We sat there in silence as the clouds slid past the sun and the rain dribbled down the outside of the windows. Finally, he spoke.

“Okay. You’re good. But with your reputation, how’d you get this job?”

I met his gaze. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me.”

His chin lifted. His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not true.”

Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me your version of it then.”
My temper flared. “I was hired to do a job—take a photo shoot of your ranch. I have a copy of the contract in my case, and nowhere in that contract does it say I owe you any explanations.”

His response was unexpected. “You want that sandwich now, boy?”

Tired of him referring to me as “boy,” I shot him a look, and froze at the glittering curiosity in his eyes. He studied me, his green gaze a mix of wary caution, grudging respect, and more. I fell into those mystical depths, forgetting to breathe as the blood pooled in my groin.

My heart stuttered, then hammered in my chest. I couldn’t look away, even as my face grew hot under his scrutiny. My cock swelled, rising as the phantom of my nights stared at me with witchy interest…

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Catch up with KC Kendrick on her website or personal blog to learn more about her exciting books and life.

I’ll be back Friday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 9, 2010

It’s here!

Caesar’s Fall, book 3 in the Elliott Smith Series, by acclaimed mystery author Dorien Grey!

This powerful novel tells the story of Elliott’s new neighbor, Bruno, an average guy who suddenly finds himself the winner of a $57 million lottery. Elliott tries to protect him from the predators and con men who circle and scheme to get the money. Following a tragic death, Elliott again joins forces with his friend, John, to determine if the death was an accident or a murder, while juggling his restoration work on a classic old building and his developing relationship with painter Steve Gutierrez.

CAESAR’S FALL
Dorien Grey
ISBN 978-1-936144-08-2 Print
ISBN 978-1-936144-09-9 Ebook
Zumaya Boundless

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BLURB:
With a new building to restore and his relationship with Steve growing more serious, the last thing Elliott needs is someone else’s problem, but when lottery millionaire Bruno Caesar moves into his building he can’t just ignore the man’s pleas for help.

Bruno’s life comes to an abrupt end when he falls from his balcony. There’s only one problem—he was terrified of heights…and never went onto the balcony. Bruno can’t rest until the puzzle of his sudden death is solved, and Elliott and John are once again searching for answers.

EXCERPT:
They arrived at Bruno’s at eight-forty-five. As usual, the kitchen door was slightly ajar and the front door partially open. They walked in to find fifteen or twenty people already scattered around the living room, dining alcove, kitchen, and even in the hallway leading to the den and bedrooms. Elliott immediately spotted Cage, Ralph, Chaz, Bruno’s “sensei” Clifford Blanton, and several other people he recognized as regulars at Bruno’s parties.

But there were, as always, several people he had never seen before, and he again wondered where they came from.

Bruno and Ricky were standing by the dining room table, which had several wrapped gifts on it, talking with Paul and the as-always impeccably dressed Button.

Walking over to greet them and to wish Ricky a happy birthday, Elliott casually laid the envelope next to the other gifts. He’d not seen Rudy but assumed he was coming, and knowing Bruno was probably already worried about a possible confrontation, he didn’t want to ask.

“Please,” Bruno said, “go get a drink and something to eat.”

Rolling the ice cubes around in the bottom of his glass, Button drained the last of his and said, “Allow me to show you the way. Excuse us, all.”

As he turned toward the bar, two people Elliott didn’t recognize but who had apparently just come in approached the table with an ornately wrapped gift.

He and Steve followed Button to the bar, pausing to exchange a few words with various other guests. Steve pointed out the large buffet spread out on a pair of tablecloth-covered card tables near the bar.

“My God, there’s enough food there to feed the Sixth Fleet.”

“We should be so lucky!” Button observed. While they waited for the bartender to finish making drinks for the man in front of them, he turned to Elliott and said, “It’s none of my business, of course, but do I detect a hint of trouble in Paradise?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Bruno seems a little…on edge…tonight. Very unlike him. I really hope he and Ricky aren’t having problems already. Bruno seems truly devoted to him, but you know how these young kids are.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Elliott said. “Everybody has an off day every now and then.”

Button pursed his lips and looked from Elliott to Steve.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said, but he did not sound totally convinced.

Paul came over to join them just as they were giving their drink orders to the bartender, and a moment later, Ricky also joined the group. Glancing toward the dining alcove and the gift table, Elliott saw no sign of Bruno.

“A very nice party, Ricky,” Steve said.

Ricky grinned. “It is, isn’t it? This is my first real birthday party ever! Of course, I don’t know very many of the people here, but it’s still nice.”

“Interesting centerpiece,” Steve said, indicating the buffet table where a circular flower arrangement surrounded an empty champagne bottle with a lit white candle dripping small rivulets of different colors over the bottle as it melted.

Blushing, Ricky said “Bruno did that for me. It’s the first bottle of champagne we shared, and I kept it. I love it with the candle!”

Elliott smiled to himself when he detected the distinct aroma of Old Spice. Bruno’s influence, he assumed.

“Where did Bruno disappear to?” Button asked, looking around the room.

“Rudy came in, and Bruno said he wanted to talk to him privately. I guess they went into the den.”

That was quick.

“Well, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second,” Button said, laying his hand lightly on Ricky’s arm. “A roving band of gypsies could come rushing in and just carry you off! Paul, where did we leave our gypsy costumes?”

* * *

Half an hour or so later, as a small circle of guests, including Ralph, Steve and Button, were talking about the Art Institute’s new Modern Wing, Elliott noticed an angry-looking Rudy emerge from the hallway to Bruno’s den. Motioning to an of-course-handsome young man with whom he had apparently come, he headed to the front door and left, his companion hurrying after him. A moment later, Bruno appeared, looking less than happy and, oblivious to Clifford Blanton’s attempt to catch his attention as he passed, went directly to the bar.

Though Elliott hoped for a chance to talk privately with Bruno to see what had happened during his meeting with Rudy, the opportunity did not present itself. Immediately after getting his drink and speaking briefly to Ricky, Bruno withdrew to one corner of the room with Clifford Blanton for a long and apparently earnest discussion.

Bruno returned to the main group for the opening of the presents and the cutting and serving of the birthday cake, after which the crowd began to thin out. At around eleven-thirty Elliott and Steve sought out Bruno and Ricky to express their thanks and say their goodbyes. Ricky thanked them profusely for the on-order book, and Bruno told Elliott he would call him soon. From the tone in his voice, Elliott gathered he meant very soon.

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You can learn more about Dorien Grey and his awesome books on his website.

I’ll be back tomorrow. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 8, 2010

The Queen of Hot is BACK

and hotter than ever! Jan Springer is our guest today, celebrating her brand new release BURN FOR ME.

My personal recommendation – Be sure to have ice water nearby for this scorcher.

Below is the blurb and short excerpt to tease you.

BURN FOR ME
Jan Springer
ISBN 978-1-41993-004-1
Ellora’s Cave

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BLURB:
Wrapped in red-hot lust for revenge, Avery plans to murder the man responsible for the death of her son. Her plan is tragically destroyed when her ex-husband kidnaps her, taking her to the rustic Canadian cabin where they once honeymooned.

Mason is fighting for Avery with everything he’s got. Armed with whipped cream, handcuffs and his undying love, Mason vows he’ll make her love again.

With one searing touch Mason stabs through the icy walls of Avery’s heart, melting her defenses and making her burn with sinful sensations. But if their son’s killer gets his way, Mason and Avery’s newfound happiness will be doomed forever.

EXCERPT:
Biting back a shiver of revulsion at what she was about to do, Avery forced her attention to the reverend and slowly withdrew the gun from the bouquet of roses.

Before the reverend could continue, a disturbing roar from a motorcycle outside ripped through the sanctity of the church. Mumbles of irritation and confusion from the people in the pews were drowned, as the rumbling grew louder. At the back of the church the main doors burst open wide.

Horror snapped through her as a huge sparkling silver motorcycle shot through the opening, a second bike quickly followed and then a third zipped inside. On each bike sat a rider dressed entirely in black leather, faces hidden behind mirrored visors, powerful bodies hunched behind windshields, as they raced their motorcycles in single procession up the aisle toward the wedding party.

And toward her!

Fear and shock paralyzed her as they drew closer. She barely heard Rick yell at everyone to take cover and before she could react, she spied the riders brandishing guns and aiming them at Ron and Rick, both who dove between the pews.

Her maid of honor, Ron and Rick’s younger sister, saw the guns and screamed hysterically as she dashed away from Avery’s side. Avery tried to follow her, but her feet got caught in the hem of her long dress and she stumbled, the gun dropping from her bouquet with a clatter. She thought for sure she’d fall flat on her face but a strong arm curled around her waist like a steel clamp and she was quite literally swept her off her feet. In one rugged swoop, the second biker plopped her onto the seat in front of him. Panic lanced her as he straddled her thighs with his powerful hips. Pushing strong arms against the sides of her body, he held onto his handlebars, effectively holding her captive.

Panic jolted Avery and she tried to push herself sideways against his arms, but he didn’t so much as budge. She was trapped.

Oh God! This isn’t happening! she cried to herself when the wedding party became a blur as with frightening speed, her captor angled the bike around the small front church confines and headed back along the aisle. An aisle she should have been walking down after killing Rick. Instead, she was being kidnapped!

Late afternoon wind blasted her veil against her face as they exploded through the front door. She noticed Rick’s bodyguards being flanked by men with guns. But she didn’t get a good look as the motorcycle she was being held on flew like a bullet down the concrete wheelchair ramp. Cars tooted their horns as the biker penetrated the surprisingly light late afternoon weekend traffic and for a brief insane moment she had the urge to smash the back of her head against the man’s neck and chest, in the hopes of freeing herself from his tight embrace, then throwing herself off the bike. But at the tremendous rate of speed he was now traveling, she’d probably break her neck or die the instant she hit the pavement. She could smash her hands upon this guy’s arms but she had the feeling that wouldn’t work either.

As her kidnapper wrenched the handlebars, he turned a corner on the busy street where pedestrians frantically scrambled out of the way. At this angle Avery was able to cast a quick glance toward the church.

In an open church window at the side of the building, she saw Rick. His gun was drawn. And he was aiming toward her and her kidnapper as well as the other two motorcycles, which flanked the bike she was on. She winced as a torrent of shots rang out and to her surprise her captor pressed his strong body deeper around her, shielding her, protecting her as if she were in a cocoon.

She swallowed in disbelief at his reaction and when another volley of shots screamed past them, her captor cursed, giving away his identity. Avery froze at the familiar voice and confusion raced through her. She closed her eyes, praying she was wrong. Then she was praying she was right because if anyone were to kidnap her, she’d want it to be her ex and not some deranged man hell-bent on killing her to get even with the drug dealing son of a bitch she’d been about to kill.

She felt painful tugs on her hair as he ripped her veil loose and it blew away like a black tumbleweed. “You won’t need this anymore!” he shouted into the wind. Anger and satisfaction etched his voice.

Son of a bitch!

Just then, Mason’s familiar scent swept around her, calming her. He smelled of leather and gasoline and Irish Spring. Had she not been so afraid for her life moments ago, she knew she would have recognized him right away and now that she realized it was Mason who’d kidnapped her, awareness raced through her.

She hadn’t seen him in years. How had he known what she’d been up to? She’d taken another identity and disappeared from her old life, making sure no one would find her, keeping tabs on her old life only through a trusted friend.

And who was Mason riding with? His cop buddies? Men who hadn’t been able to do anything to help throw Rick into prison where he belonged. She clamped down the anger that threatened to consume her every time she thought of Rick and concentrated on the wonderful way her body was reacting to Mason. His warmth seeped through the material of her wedding dress, caressing her skin, making her breasts swell in anticipation and her nipples harden into tight aching beads. Slowly, she comprehended the hard angles of his body as she became aware of the muscles that pressed against her. A wide solid chest and powerful thighs, not to mention his thick arousal pressing intimately against her backside, making her tremble, as memories and erotic heat splashed through her in luscious waves and along with it came the familiar guilt. She would not be happy while her son’s killer was once again free. All because of her ex-husband.

Dammit! Mason had screwed her plans.

A new fear invaded her. By kidnapping her, Mason might have blown her cover and if Rick and Ron found out who’d whisked her away, they’d hunt them both down. They wouldn’t stop until her ex and Avery were both anchored with cement weights on the bottom of Lake Ontario.

But before she could contemplate that any further, she sighed in relief as he slowed the bike and swerved down an alley, then another narrower alley and came to an abrupt halt.

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You can read more about Jan Springer’s outstanding work on her website.

I’ll be back tomorrow. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

November 3, 2010

CONGRATULATIONS, RICK R. REED

for being an EPPIE Finalist! And to all the other amazing authors who worked hard to earn the privilege.

If you don’t know, EPIC eBook Awards have been held annually since 2000, honoring distinctive works published in electronic format. The 2011 list is out and Rick R. Reed is there with two strong novels, The Blue Moon Cafe and Mute Witness. Today we feature Mute Witness with its engrossing plot and beautifully written emotions.

MUTE WITNESS
Rick R. Reed
ISBN 978-1-60820-108-2 print
ISBN 978-1-60820-109-9 ebook
MLR Press

BUY LINKS:
MLR Press
Amazon
Kindle

BLURB:
Sean and Austin have the perfect life. Their new relationship is only made more joyous by weekend visits from Sean’s eight-year-old son, Jason.

And then their perfect world shatters.

EXCERPT:
It was one of their rare lazy evenings. Summer, and the evening air was fresh and clean after an afternoon thunderstorm, with just a hint of a breeze. Normally, Sean and Austin were so busy that if they weren’t trying to change something about the little Cape Cod on the Ohio River they had bought a year before—adding a deck, putting in a new kitchen, stripping away years of white paint from the woodwork downstairs—they were too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and pass out, usually before eleven o’clock. Lovemaking, since they had bought the money- and-time-sucking house, had become relegated to weekend afternoons and the occasional early morning.

But today, Thursday, had been an easy one. Austin had called into work and took a mental health day. Things had just been too damn busy lately and he needed the break. Waiting until Saturday was out of the question. Sunday seemed farther away than the next millennium.

Sean, a reporter for The Evening View, the local thrice-weekly compilation of ads sandwiched in with a little editorial, had had the day off. The couple had spent the day in Pittsburgh, at the Andy Warhol museum, then had an early dinner at The Grand Concourse and beat the brutal thunderstorm home, made love (acrobatically, in the kitchen, atop a Butcher’s block), and now the two were curled up in front of the TV.

Sean looked over at his younger boyfriend and thought how lucky he was to have found Austin, especially in a town the size of Summitville, where the population hovered just above ten thousand. Even better, Austin was his fantasy man, with a broad, beefy body that his mother and her friends would have called strapping, sandy blond hair, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. When Sean had first met him, he thought Austin’s eyes had to be fake: enhanced by those tinted contacts that never looked real. But he found quickly that the young man was simply blessed with arresting eyes to go along with his broad shoulders, dimpled chin, and infectious smile.

It was what they both would have agreed was a perfect day. Well, Sean might have had one more item to add to the “perfection” list. Having his son, Jason, around for at least part of the time would have been all it would have taken to make the day ideal, but these days, Jason was for the weekends only.

In any case, this was close enough to nirvana. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back on Austin’s shoulder.

Sean was just thinking about slowly undressing Austin and then leading him into the bedroom for round two when the phone rang. Its chirp startled both of them out of the cocoon of warmth that had surrounded them, a cocoon built from good sex, supreme relaxation, and good Jamaican weed.

Austin: sleepily from under Sean’s arm, “Don’t get it. Just let the machine pick up. I don’t want to talk to anyone. And I don’t want you to.” Sean eyed the little answering machine next to the cordless, wondering when they would enter the 21st century and use voice mail like everyone else. But, unlike voice mail, the machine did allow them to screen calls and for two men who appreciated their privacy, this feature had voice mail beat all to hell.

Sean let the phone ring its customary four rings, although his tendency would have been to answer it. But if this would make Austin happy, then he was willing to do it. Especially since he had things in mind for Austin that did not involve the telephone. Things that would erase their fatigue and perhaps keep them up the better part of the night. Sean grinned.

On the fourth ring, Sean pressed the pause button on the remote control and sat up straighter to listen.

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Austin whispered in Sean’s ear, flicking his earlobe with his tongue and giving his crotch a playful squeeze.

And then the moment shattered.

Shelley’s voice, almost unfamiliar under the veneer of tension that made it higher, quicker, came through. Shelley and Sean had been married once upon a time and their union had produced Jason, the best little boy in the world. As soon as Sean heard Shelley’s voice he thought of his son, who shared his dark hair, green eyes, wiry frame, and his fascination with stories.

“Sean? Sean, I hope you’re there. This is important. Please pick up.” There was a slight pause. “It’s about Jason. He…”

Before she could say anything else, Sean sprinted for the phone in the entryway. “Shelley? Sorry, I was…”

“Jason is missing.”

“What?”

And then Sean heard her sob and the relaxation in all of his muscles vanished, replaced by a tightness that felt like steel bands snapping taut across his muscles. Blood rushed in his ears; his heart began to pound. A queasy nausea rose up in his gut.

“Jason never came home tonight,” Shelley sobbed. “I don’t know where he is. Please say he’s with you.”

Sean collapsed into the oak chair in front of the desk. “Shelley, I’m sorry, but he’s not here. Don’t you think I would have called if he had come here? How long’s he been gone?” Sean rubbed the back of his neck, his mouth dry. He glanced out the window at complete darkness.

“I went to work at six and he wasn’t home yet.” She blew out a sigh. “But, you know, we just thought he was horsing around in the woods or something and lost track of time. Then I called Paul and…”

“Wait a minute, Shelley. It’s a quarter ‘til eleven.”

“I know. I know.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner? You mean to tell me you’re just starting to look? Christ, he’s eight years old.”

“I thought he would’ve come home while I was on my shift. Paul was here and he fell asleep and…”

“Paul. Great.” Sean rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs.

“Please Sean, it’s not the time. I fucked up. Okay? Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I need some help finding our son.”

She was right. In spite of the thoughts running through his head, most of them centering around how he and Austin would have been better parents, but the courts couldn’t see that, all they could see was a little boy growing up under the wings of two queers, Sean knew she was right.

This was an emergency.

He looked over at his partner, sitting alert on the couch, concern making his fair features somehow darker, eyebrows pulling together, mouth open as if to say something. Austin mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Just a minute, Shelley.” Sean covered the receiver with his hand. “Jason has disappeared. They haven’t seen him since this afternoon.” Sean closed his eyes to try and center himself; this was unreal, like a nightmare come to life. The room shifted, like he was drunk. He wished away any high the Jamaican he had smoked earlier brought on, but it wasn’t that easy. A feeling of giddy dread pulsed through his veins, electric.

This is how it feels, he thought, to be totally helpless.

Austin got up and began rubbing the cords in Sean’s neck, which had tightened into iron.

Sean swallowed, trying to summon up some spit. “You haven’t seen him all day?”

“That’s right and I don’t need the accusations. You know how it is around here in the summertime. Kids play outside until it starts getting dark. It was like that for you. It was like that for me.”

“I’m sorry. Listen, we’ll be right over.”

“‘Kay.” There was a pause. “Sean? Would you mind just coming alone? Paul…”

“For Christ’s sake, Shelley.” Sean hung the phone up.

“I’m going over there. See what I can do to help.”

“Let me throw something on.” Austin stood, his blue eyes alive with concern and sympathy.

“No.” Sean practically winced at the look of surprise on his lover’s face. He bit his lower lip and added, “I mean, maybe you should stay here in case anyone calls.”

Austin frowned.

“Like Jason.” Sean groped in a desk drawer and pulled out his cell. “I’ll have this on me so you can reach me. Okay?”

BUY LINKS:
MLR Press
Amazon
Kindle

Learn more about Rick R. Reed and his talented writings on his website and blog.

I’ll be back Friday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

October 27, 2010

In the Mainstream

is where you’ll find Dorien Grey and his stellar novels. A masterful writer, Dorien created P.I. Dick Hardesty and a series was born. The book we featured today, THE NINTH MAN is another excellent addition to the long line of critically acclaimed and best-selling novels by Dorien Grey.

THE NINTH MAN
Dorien Grey
ISBN 1-879194-88-0
GLB Publishing

THE NINTH MAN is available in or on-order from any bookstore. You can also purchase from GLB Publishing or Amazon.

BLURB:
Hired to get find the truth behind the mysterious death of a gay man the homophobic police force has declared a suicide, P.I. Dick Hardesty uncovers a series of similar, seemingly unrelated deaths and sets off to find the common link between them which will lead him to the murderer.

EXCERPT:
“Cigarette?” he asked, leaning across me for an ashtray on the night stand.

“Gave ’em up,” I said, smugly.

“You? Liggett & Myers’ best friend?” He paused to light up. “I’m proud of you. Really. It’s a filthy habit.” And he blew a long stream of smoke into my face.

“You little…” I said, lunging out to tickle him under the arm, which always drove him up the wall. He shrieked and rolled away from me, almost falling off the bed in the process.

“Don’t! Please! I’ll be good! Honest!” he gasped between arias of laughter and frantic flailing trying to fend off my insistent tickling. Finally, fearful that the neighbors might be considering calling the police, I stopped.

Tim lay limp, catching his breath. He took a long drag from his cigarette, which had somehow come through the struggle unscathed, and carefully blew the smoke away from me. After a minute, he plumped up his pillow and scooted himself up on the bed, his back against the headboard.

“Okay, so let’s talk,” he said.

“About what?” I asked.

“About whatever it was you called me about,” he said with a grin.

I duplicated his pillow-plumping and hoisted myself up beside him. “You know I hate to mix business with pleasure, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. So ‘but’ what?”

“Your office had a case recently—you probably don’t remember it with all those stiffs you have coming and going. Mostly going. But this one was kind of different. Young guy named Bobby McDermott; 27.”

Tim muttered something under his breath—it sounded like “Fuck!” —and stared into the ashtray balanced on his stomach.

“What?” I asked.

Tim turned his head and looked at me, strangely, his eyes searching my face. He said nothing.

I felt a twinge of guilt. “Hey, Tim, I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I don’t have any right to butt into your business….”

Tim shrugged and relaxed a little. “It’s okay,” he said, finally. “Yeah, I remember Bobby McDermott. What about him?”

“The police apparently indicated to his lover that he killed himself. Probably poison. His lover swears he was murdered.”

Tim stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray, staring at it and continuing to tamp it long after it was out. “What makes him think that?”

Patience was never one of my greater virtues, and obviously Tim knew something he wasn’t too eager to share with me.

“Come on, Tim! The guy’s 27. Healthy as a horse—hung like one, too, I understand. No apparent problems—unless you count the lover, but that’s another story. Apparently the only thing he was addicted to is sex, and I’ve never heard of anyone fucking themselves to death, have you?” Tim shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “And then the cops ask the lover what he knows about poisons. That strikes me as more than a little strange; they don’t ask about drugs, but poisons.”

Tim pursed his lips, thought a moment, then turned to me with a deep sigh. “Well,” he said, shaking his head, “somebody was bound to catch on, sooner or later.”

“Catch on to what?” I asked, with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“First of all, he didn’t die of drugs; it was poison. Cyanide, to be exact. Apparently inhaled. Secondly, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t suicide.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

“Apart from the fact that cyanide is a pretty esoteric way for anybody to commit suicide, how would someone like McDermott manage to get hold of it? It’s not impossible to come by, but it’s not exactly a household product. But what really blows a hole in the suicide theory—and a little detail that the cops apparently chose to overlook—is that from what I understand, there was absolutely nothing in the room to indicate how he managed to inhale cyanide. No bottles, vials, inhalers, rags, nothing.”

“Weird,” I said, the butterflies still there.

“It gets weirder when you consider that Bobby McDermott wasn’t the first case we’ve had like it in the past couple weeks. He’s the sixth one.”

BUY LINKS:
GLB Publishing
Amazon

For a greater insight into the “real person” behind Dorien Grey, the curious are invited to check out his website and his various blogs: Dorien Grey and Me and A Life in Photos among them.

There is nothing Dorien loves more than hearing from a reader. If you’d like to contact him, just drop him a note. Replies are guaranteed. Dorien answers all his emails.

I’ll be back Friday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

October 22, 2010

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

New from Clare London, author of the Amber Allure best-sellers A Good Neighbor and Upwardly Mobile…..

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE
Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-703-8
Genres: Gay / Contemporary
Amber Allure

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Garry’s definitely at the end of his tether. He’s waiting in an airport lounge to meet his friend Will, to go on holiday with mutual friends in a Scottish highlands hotel. Now there’s a ten-hour delay to incoming flights, the seat in the lounge is more like an instrument of torture, and he’s beyond tired of airport food.

What’s worse, he’s also dreading having to apologize for the pass he recently made at Will, under the influence of too many beers and a long-held crush. And the suddenly shocking realization that when Will accepts a new job offer on a continent thousands of miles away, it may be the end of their close friendship–let alone anything more.

To add to Garry’s stress, he’s treated to the company of Emily and Max, two young people who think he needs educating in the ways of the world–and his love life–whether he welcomes the interference or not. Struggling with their well-meaning help and the startling mess on his clothes from spilled ketchup and noxious-smelling sweets, he’s encouraged to re-examine how he feels about Will and to decide what kind of journey he’d really like them to take together…

BLURB:
Garry must have dozed off. He woke with numbness in his left arm that made it feel the size of a Halloween pumpkin, and a pain in his scalp that meant his hair had got caught awkwardly on the wrong side of his parting. His head was stretched back over the back edge of the chair, and his legs were folded underneath it in a manner that would defy professional physiotherapy. Trying to move his limbs just made him groan aloud as the muscles cramped. It took him a depressingly long time to get himself upright again. Wincing, he made a mental note to renew his gym membership when he got back home after the trip.

He tried to smooth his hair back down in place. He’d snagged the shoulder-length ends into a short ponytail for traveling, but the tie had twisted at the back of his neck. When he tugged it back into shape, his fingers caught up in the tangles. It also seemed to have collected an interesting selection of dust particles and the remains of a catering-sized margarine wrapper. Maybe a couple of those blueberry droppings.

He squinted at the lounge clock and saw that a couple of the ten hours had passed.

The good thing was that the Sleeping Not-Beauty had left the seat beside him.

The not-so-good thing was that he had another neighbor and this one was a lot smaller. Probably only about seven. A round, plump-cheeked girl’s face stared at him, her eyes sky blue, her hair pale blonde. She was delicately pretty and would have looked like some kind of picture book princess, except that she had a huge, suspiciously red stain on the front of her Hello Kitty T-shirt. Her legs were tightly pressed together to contain a pile of sweets in her lap and there was sugar frosting stuck all over her skirt and her fingers. Some of the sweets had obviously already been consumed—the frosting was on the end of her nose, and around her mouth, too—and she chewed thoughtfully as she looked at him.

Garry wrinkled his nose. There was a particularly violent and disturbing smell around the sweets, like a medicine he’d once been forced to take as a kid. A fair proportion of the sugar fallout seemed to have made its way on to his jeans, too. He examined his mood and doubted it was one to tolerate children just at the moment. The feeling was creeping back to his arm and it was damned painful. He wanted to swear—he had a good vocabulary, he’d been complimented on it more than once—but, of course, that was now out of the question. He knew that much about children.

“Hi,” the girl said. “You’re awake now.”

He glared at her, groggy from his nap, and still aching. His stuffy brain wanted him to say “buzz off, kid,” but his mouth opened and he said, “Hi.” He didn’t know what else to say to such a small person. He hadn’t had a lot of practice with them. Allen used to talk about his large family and the new generation of nieces and nephews, but Garry admitted in his deepest, most honest heart, that he usually tuned all that information out.

“You want one?” She held out something that looked sticky and totally unappealing, vibrantly pink and green and in the shape of a heart. New sprinkles of sugar whispered off it on to their knees.

Garry pursed his lips. He had an irresistible, immediate urge to brush off the white crystals as if they’d rot like poison through his jeans. “No thanks. I…already ate.”

“When?”

He stared at her. Who did she think she was, his mother? “When I got here.”

“You’ll need more than that,” she said, bluntly. “The Delay is twelve hours now.” Her tone dignified it with capital letters, like it was some kind of alien monster, some Harbinger of Armageddon, some Premonition of Global Doom.

Now she had him doing it, even in his private thoughts. For a second, he thought he might still be asleep and dreaming he was in a late night version of The Twilight Zone. But his back and his toes still hurt…so it looked like he was awake. Mournfully so.

“You should be with your parents,” he said, just as bluntly.

But she didn’t seem disturbed by him. She put a red and yellow heart into her mouth and wiped her sticky fingers down her T-shirt. It proved that at least the red stain wasn’t blood. Garry wondered at what point he’d even considered that might be the case.

“You’re grumpy,” she said. “Just like Mum.”

“Huh?” One thing Garry did know about kids was that if you encouraged them, they stuck like glue. Or like particularly revolting sweets. All he had to do was stifle any conversation, and then in a minute, she’d get bored of him and wander off again.

“I’ll stay here for a while,” she said, patting her lap with determination…

BUY LINK

Learn more about Clare London and her bestsellers at website.

I’ll be back Monday. Until then…

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

October 21, 2010

Vampires, Zombies and More

Are you into Halloween and all its traditions? If so, check out Melissa’s Imaginarium for posts that unravel all the dark secrets. I guarantee you’ll enjoy this tweleve day spookathon!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell