Get Hot with Tara Lain's Fire Balls! Coming Friday Feb 3

Hi everyone--
A pause in our roster of wonderful guests for a word from our sponsor. LOL. This coming Friday, the new book in my Balls to the Wall Series releases from Etopia Press. In case you haven't heard, it's called Fire Balls. Here is the blurb and an R Rated Excerpt just to get you hot under the collar.

Excerpt: Fire Balls by Tara Lain  -- MM Contemporary

Available Feb 3 at Etopia Press  Amazon  B&N ARe and other retailers

Rodney Mansfield is tiny, flamboyant and, oh yeah, a black belt in karate. He is also one of southern California’s greatest artists. Too bad the work of art he really wants is firefighter, Hunter Fallon. But the gorgeous “straight gay” guy could never want the Runtback of Notre Dame, so when Rodney’s handsome, surfer friend, Jerry, develops an unexpected passion for the beautiful firefighter, Rodney breaks his own heart by helping Jerry land his man. And then Rod makes it worse by embarrassing Hunter when he protects him from a firehouse bully. Hunter hates gay guys like Rodney – doesn’t he? Then why can’t he get the powerful pipsqueak’s face out of his mind… and cock out of his ass? And why does he risk his job and his life to rescue Rod from a burning building? Isn’t it time for him to admit he’s not an alpha male after all and that he is the property of the artist?

“So what the hell is a poet doing in the fire department?”

“There’s a lot of poetry in fire.”

“Sure, darling, if you’re staring at a fireplace with a glass of wine!”

Hunter laughed, which seemed to drain a little of the tension. “I became a firefighter for my dad. Kind of living his dream because he wasn’t able to. He’s confined to a wheelchair.”

Interesting. “That’s great for him, but what’s your dream?”

“Making him happy, I guess. Not disappointing him.”

The boy was cracked. Rod put his hands on his hips. “Shit, darling, you can’t live someone else’s dream.”

The words hung in the air.

“I’ve got to try.” Hunter’s words were barely audible.

Rodney dropped his brush in the turp. Somebody had to get through to the man. He took a step forward. “Tell me what you would do if you didn’t have to think about anyone but yourself.”

Hunter shook his head slowly.

He took another step. “Tell me, dammit.”

The blue eyes looked startled. “I’d teach. I’d teach literature, maybe in college.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Doesn’t change anything.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. Declaration is a big step in the battle. If you can say it out loud, you can manifest it.” He took another step. “Do you know what my father wanted me to be?”

“What?”

“A lawyer. A fucking lawyer, probably so I could keep the bastard out of jail when he cheated his customers. He wanted to pay for me to go to fucking Stanford Law.”

“Wow. You turned him down?”

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?” He struck his favorite pose à la Marilyn Monroe. “I worked my ass off to put myself through art school. I waited tables and painted pictures of people’s pets to make extra money. I even appeared in a drag show one time.”

“No shit?”

“You should hear me sing 'Let Me Entertain You.' But my point is, it’s your life and you have to live it. You probably don’t get another chance and even if you do, you won’t be conscious of it, so this is it, darling. Get on with it.”

“Yeah, but my dad is different.”

“I’m sure he is, and I’m happy for you.” He moved closer. “And you know what my father mostly wanted me to be?”

“What? I mean you’re a great artist, he must have seen that and wanted that.”

“No, you know what he wanted me to be so much he would have given every dime he had to make it so?”

Hunter shook his head, eyes wide.

“He wanted me to be not gay.”

Hunter stared. “My dad too.”

Shit. Rod was now at the platform’s edge. “So that’s it. You make up to your dad for being gay by putting on this damned hero fireman act when you want to read your books in the sunshine and teach a few kids about immortality. Right?”

Hunter shook his head.

“I said right?” Rod was beside Hunter now. Within reach. “Say I’m right.” He climbed up the platform’s step. “Your dad doesn’t want you to be gay, so you don’t want to be gay. But there’s not one fucking thing you can do about it so you compromise the whole rest of your life trying to make up for the way God made you. Say I’m right.”

Hunter dropped down onto one elbow. “You’re right.”

“Louder. I can’t hear you.”

“You’re right, dammit.”

His knee hit the daybed and in a fast two count his body pressed down onto Hunter’s, his hands grabbing the other man’s head. Holy shit, what was he doing? Mouth to mouth got a whole new meaning. Jesus, he was starving and Hunter Fallon was the only food.

Forcing Hunter’s lips open, Rod’s tongue pressed deep, deeper, and he licked the inside of the sweetest mouth he had ever known. Hunter’s tense body gradually relaxed against Rod’s, then began to writhe. Oh shit, Hunter’s hips pressed hard against Rodney, who couldn’t miss the steel of that hot cock.

I hope you're inspired. The Fire Balls Blog Tour begins Feb 3. The complete schedule is on my website under Events/Blog Tour Schedule http://www.taralain.com  And watch the Book Blog Beautiful Boys Books for daily events in the contest to win a copy of Fire Balls and a $10. Amazon GC. Thank you so much for visiting. I love blog followers in case you want to follow.  :  )

Jaime Samms Makes Us Better! With a Copy for Someone.

Hi everyone-- It's my delight to welcome author Jaime Samms. Today, Jaime is bringing us her new release, Better, and one of you gets to win a copy. so be sure and leave a comment WITH your email. You'll be glad you did.  :  ) Here's Jaime

You hear, every so often, how writing is a solitary activity, and I suppose, when it comes down to putting the words on the page, the only person responsible for getting it done is the writer, alone, who’s fingers are on the keyboard (or the pen. I hear some writers still do that…). But anyone who thinks there is no secondary or tertiary input, even long before the story reaches an editor, well, they don’t know.

I can’t remember the last time I wrote a story I didn’t talk about to at least one other writer friend. We bounce ideas off one another all the time, If not another writer, maybe a partner or a non-writing friend gets to hear about the bumps and blocks along the way to every masterpiece. Those acknowledgements in the front of the books are not for nothing.

So what if a writer is extremely private and superstitious and thinks if they talk about a story before it’s done, they’ll scuttle it? Unless they live alone, never go out and stay off line, I’m pretty sure someone, somewhere, gets to listen to them talk about how thy need to sleep/eat/pee but this story just won’t unshackle them from their desk. If they don’t live alone, well…there’s a good chance someone else is feeding them and hauling them to bed once in a while.

No story happens in a vacuum. We need human contact and experience, we need to feel things and learn things, and we need to be in the world to know there are stories to write. Every once in a while, we come across someone, whether they be a life-long friend or someone who drifts into our lives and out again at just the right time, who make this whole gig possible. Those are the people to thank for the stories we writers manage to pound out. Without them, I promise, it wouldn’t happen.

Better is one of the stories that happened because a kind man with a lot of encouragement and insight drifted into my life at the right time. We’ve since drifted our separate ways, for the most part, but I know he’s out there, still writing and still encouraging other writers, and I appreciate him immensely for believing in me. Thanks, Paul.

 Blurb: After filing charges that put his abusive ex-Dom behind bars, Jesse Turbul relocates  across the country, hoping to escape his past—but, of course, it's never that easy. When Jesse meets third-year law student Aadon at the library where he works, their mutual attraction is instant and obvious.

 Despite the sparks, they just can't seem to make it work. Aadon is mired in guilt over his inability to help his older brother, damaged by events far too similar to to Jesse's past. Jesse is stuck in his own desperate wish to forget the painful shadow that continues to threaten him and any hope of a happy future. 

 The only way to move forward is for Jesse to acknowledge he's broken and for Aadon to accept he can't make him better. 

Excerpt: Jesse watched his date for a while, waiting for the blond head to lift. Only when Mike came to the table a few minutes later did Aadon look up. He glanced at Jesse, turned to Mike and placed his order, waited until Jesse had ordered and Mike had left before quietly excusing himself from the table.

Jesse waited a long time, much longer than it would take for Aadon to use the facilities, before following him.

The heavy restroom door swung open on silent hinges, and the peculiar smell of a bathroom trying too hard not to smell like a bathroom engulfed him. Jesse drew in a silent breath and stepped inside.

Aadon leaned on the counter by the sinks, his back to the mirror.

“I’m sorry.” Jesse tried to make the apology light, tried to see into Aadon’s shrouded eyes.

Finally, Aadon looked at him. “Why?”

“I got a little defensive.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart, sheepish smile on his face.

Aadon stifled a groan. How could he be so fiery one minute, and this…adorable the next and not know how crazy it made him? He pushed himself off the sink and closed his hand around Jesse’s fingers, closing the space and kissing the fingertips. “Maybe that’s the point. As long as you feel you have to defend yourself around me, I have to be careful.” He closed his eyes, kept his lips pressed to his warm fingers.

God this was hard. He wasn’t doing Jesse any good, wanting him this bad, knowing he couldn’t—shouldn’t—and knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. He shouldn’t still even be with him. It was too much. He just wasn’t what Jesse needed.

Jesse felt the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach even before Aadon spoke again and yanked his hand free, mouth open, ready to fill the void before Aadon could speak. Before he could say what Jesse knew he was about to say. He was too slow.

Aadon took his face in both hands, tilting it up and looking into his eyes. “As long as I have to be that careful, this can’t work.”

“But—”

“Because I don’t want to be careful, Jesse,” Aadon went on, overriding his faint protest, passing a thumb over Jesse’s lips and backing him up against a stall.

“Then don’t.” The words warbled out past Jesse’s pulse fluttering in his throat. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be careful.” Aadon’s toned body pressed his against the cold metal. The rush of fear and excitement mingled, and he knew he’d lost the ability to tell which was which. He didn’t know if he cared.

“If I’m not, I could do more damage than Anthony ever did.” Aadon’s palm caressed his cheek, his fingers slid into Jesse’s hair, and he kissed; a light strike of his lips and tongue, there and gone too quickly to capture, but expertly bringing him back down to where he could almost breathe normally.

The rush faded, and Jesse wanted it back.

He gripped the front of Aadon’s shirt, preventing him from moving away. “You’re not anything like Anthony, and I’m not who I was then.” He never would have demanded Anthony answer his desire like this. Kissing Aadon firmly, not hard or angry, just without compromise, Jesse closed his eyes, willed the other man to understand. He needed this so desperately. Needed to know he was wanted, desired. Needed to know Aadon could look on him as a man and not a shattered thing.

A soft groan welled in Aadon’s throat and spilled out into Jesse’s kiss. It was so good. So sweet, and held so much conviction. It was, finally, too much to resist. He answered it, tongue stroke for tongue stroke, slowly

wresting control of the kiss from Jesse as he pinned him between his hard body and the cold metal of the bathroom stall. His big hands cupped Jesse’s head, his body an immovable weight against him, soaking in Jesse’s heat and desire, keeping him still and contained.

Jesse couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his fingers tightened to fists in Aadon’s shirt. This was exactly the kind of mindless surrender he’d always craved. Exactly what Anthony had never once given him. Because Anthony had never asked for it the way Aadon was doing with his firm, gentle touches and his warm hands, possessive, but not hard or hurtful. Jesse let go of that last bit of control and felt his head impact the stall wall with a soft thud. His hands relaxed, his body heated and melted to conform with Aadon’s, and he opened that last little bit to feel Aadon’s tongue sweep in and possess him.

BuyLink: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2739&osCsid=to1sc0u2342r40ga7qpjhjlvs6

Don't forget to comment with your email for a chance to win this wonderful book! Thanks so much to Jaime for being my guest and thank you so much for coming by. Remember, i LOVE Blog followers! And Fire Balls releases Friday. Check my website under events for the whole schedule. http://www.taralain.com  :  )

OMG! I Won Best Author of 2011. Sharing the Wealth.

Okay, i'm in hog heaven. Today i won Best Author of 2011 in the LRC Awards and my Genetic Attraction Series -- The Scientist and the Supermodel, Genetic Attraction, and Deceptive Attraction -- won runner-up in Best Series of 2011! This is all so cool and unbelievable, i want to share the wealth. Want to WIN a copy of your choice of one book from the Series? Here's what you do.

• Leave me a comment here with your email
• Follow this blog or tell me if you already do
• Go like my Facebook Page or tell me if you already do
• This one is not a requirement but if you actually are my Fan, please go become my Fan on Goodreads

This contest will be over this weekend because Fire Balls is COMING!!! And i have more great guests. But heck, a girl doesn't win something like this every day. 

To further entice you, here is an excerpt from Deceptive Attraction, book 3 in the series.Be warned. The excerpt is adult, but then, so are the books. Thanks so much for visiting!  :  )

Excerpt R: Deceptive Attraction by Tara Lain; M/M/F Contemporary

Available from Loose Id  Amazon and other retailers

Caleb Martin faces a life crisis -- and he’s pretty embarrassed about it. A talented soccer star, he has the chance to sign a lucrative five year contract and be rich and famous. Two problems -- Cal is gay and signing the contract means he has to stay in the closet, maybe for life. Plus, he’ll have to spend his years diving for soccer balls when he’d like to be helping people like the rest of his family. A one-night stand with a beautiful man rocks Cal, but the guy vanishes only to reappear where Cal is house-sitting. Too much coincidence? And then a cute tomboy throws Cal’s life choices into confusion. How could he wind up with a commitmentphobe and a woman dedicated to her work in Africa? Oh yeah, and then there’s a big surprise in a snowstorm. Cosmic joker strikes again.

Cal ran for the motel lobby. As he opened the door, he glanced down. Shoot. He pulled his coat closed over his hard-on. The owner remembered him and wanted to chat about soccer. Cal didn’t want to be rude. The guy was so nice. Cal answered a few questions and then hurried back to the parking lot. Eli leaned against his bike, long legs stretched out, those amazing curls falling in front of his face. Man, what a picture. As Cal approached, the pretty boy looked up and smiled. Wow. Cal stopped short and stared.

“C’mon, I’m dying here.”

Cal covered the space between them in a few long strides, grabbed the smaller man, and pulled him off his feet. Yeah. He got just the reaction he wanted. Eli wrapped those lean thighs around Cal’s hungry body. He reached between them and moved his coat aside. Dream-come-true time. Eli’s hard rod pressed tight against his. Oh God, oh God. Eli wrapped his arms tight around Cal’s neck and pumped his body so their erections rubbed like fire sticks. Heat seared through Cal. Coming in his jeans like a teenager would be damned embarrassing. “Jesus.”

“Walk, or I’m going to fuck you here.”

What? Who was fucking? Hell, who cared as long as it was somebody. He could barely breathe, much less walk. Holding his precious burden tight, he half humped, half stumbled to the designated room on the lower floor. As he tried to maneuver the key card from his pocket, Eli leaned in and licked his neck. Holy crap. He fell against the wall. Had to stay on his feet somehow. With one hand, he pushed open the door and lurched inside, flipping on the light.

Just your regular motel room. Bright orange and brown bedspread on a queen-size bed. That was the part Cal cared about. He kicked the door closed, pulled the curtains shut with one hand, and struggled with his beautiful burden to the bed, where he dumped Eli on his back. Jesus, what a sight. Black leather jacket and baby-doll curls. Cal crashed straight down on top of him. God, it was great fucking men. The guy was smaller than Cal but strong as hell. Cal knew his 210 pounds wouldn’t crush him. He closed his mouth over those pouty pink lips.

Eli’s tongue instantly pressed into Cal’s mouth, caressing his tongue top and bottom. He kissed like he wanted to suck Cal’s soul through his mouth. The guy’s busy hands pulled at Cal’s big peacoat and shoved it off his shoulders. Still kissing, Cal completed the job. Crap, he had to get Eli’s clothes off. He pulled at Eli’s jacket, but some law of physics was clearly fighting him. Two-ten on top did not an easy exit make. Eli pulled back from the kiss. “Not much chance of getting my clothes off this way. What say we both strip and watch? Sound good?”

Sounded perfect. Cal sat up on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. Eli sprang up to standing. Cal started to pull off his shirt and froze. Wow. Eli’s jacket was off, and now he was pulling the blue T-shirt over his head. Inch by inch, a lean, hard chest as smooth as a baby’s butt came into view. Cal’s mouth watered. He wanted to lick him all over.

As the curly head emerged, Eli cocked his head. “Your turn.”

Cal just stared. The guy was beautiful, but there was something else. Like he had more life in him than other people.

“C’mon, baby. Let me see.”

Had to get his clothes off. He pulled his long-sleeved sweater over his head, hurrying so he didn’t have to stop looking at Eli for more than a second.

Eli’s lips pursed in a silent ooooh. Shit, Cal would kill for that reaction. “You next.”

Eli leaned over and started pulling off his motorcycle boots. The contrast between the tough boots and the girlie man made Cal smile. He whispered through a dry mouth, “I want more.”

Eli kicked the second boot off and looked up. “Do you?” He put his hands on his belt. “Want some of this?”

“Oh yeah.”

Eli stood up beside the bed. With agonizing slowness, the man unfastened the belt and began to unbutton the fly of his jeans. OMG, no fabric underneath. Commando. Jeeeezus. Soft, curling, golden hair showed behind the fly as he began to lower the jeans. Whoa. He was torn. He didn’t want to miss an inch of that beautifully taut body, but his eyes were riveted to the gap in the denim. At last, the prize. A long pink cock, thicker than Cal would have guessed on the slender man, popped from the jeans and slapped against the hard belly. He moaned. Mouthwatering. Nothing girlie about the dick.

“You like?”

“Shit, yes.”

“Let me see what I get.”

Still staring at that gem of a cock, Cal stood, unfastened his jeans, and pulled, dragging his boxer briefs down at the same time. Not as burlesque as Eli had been, but he got the job done. He knew his cock could be intimidating but figured Eli was not going to run.

A soft laugh made him look from Eli’s cock to his face. The man gazed at Cal’s crotch. “Well, that’s certainly more than a mouthful. Good thing I have a really long tongue.” He stuck it out for a second, then began to walk toward Cal, penis bobbing. “Let’s put it to work, shall we?”

E-mail:                   tara@taralain.com

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QMO Honors Golden Dancer with Great Review!

Hi all--

You may know that Golden Dancer, my MMM romantic suspense, has been tearing up the town with 5 Star reviews! Here is a new and wonderful review from QMO and their reviewer Lena Grey. Click HERE to see the full review.

Here is a delicious quote:
The main characters in 'Golden Dancer' jumped out at me from the pages and had me emotionally invested in them before I even realized it. I loved the way Mac, Daniel and Trelain are tough, yet vulnerable at the same time, especially Daniel Terrebone, who comes across as a wealthy, cool, business man but is also easy going and loving at the same time. It definitely kept things interesting. A ménage is not something I am generally comfortable with, but the way Tara brought these three very different men together and blended their personalities, ambitions, and passions, unequivocally convinced me that the three of them truly belonged together.

It's a deliciously passionate, exciting story full of mystery, intrigue, love, sex, passion, self discovery, and I'd recommend 'Golden Dancer' to everyone who believes that having someone to love is worth overcoming any barrier. Thanks, Tara, for a great read!


If you haven't read Golden Dancer yet, here's an excerpt to whet your whistle:

Excerpt:  Golden Dancer by Tara Lain

Available from Loose Id Amazon and other retailers

A reporter and the thief he’s investigating fall for a golden dancer forging a ménage of love and lies that could send one to prison and one to the morgue. Uncovering secrets requires baring more than just the soul.

The butler carefully locked the door behind them while visions of slipping him a sleeping pill and stealing the key wafted through Mac’s head. Okay, this really wasn’t Mickey Spillane. They walked back to the great room, and Mac saw a crowd out on the terrace. Not huge, maybe thirty or so people. As he got closer, he revised that statement. Thirty or so men.

“Have a good evening, sir.” The butler walked back toward the entry.

“Uh, thanks.” Well, what the fuck?

He walked closer to the open terrace doors. Music was playing from a small band, and a number of couples were dancing. Male couples. Maybe he should get the hell out of here.

“Mac!”

He looked up to see Trelain slipping through the crowd toward him. The man’s eyes shone, and he was smiling. When he got to Mac, he grabbed his hand. “I’m so glad you could come. Daniel told me you would, but I truly didn’t believe him.” He looked a little embarrassed at his own enthusiasm. “It’s just that you left today before I could say good-bye, and I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes, for your brilliant review. Everyone in the company was thrilled with your intelligent comments and informed praise. I told them about your parents.”

The warmth of Trelain’s hand went straight to his balls. Shit. Get a grip. “Glad you like it. It was all true.”

“Come, get a drink.”

Mac let himself be led across the slate terrace to a bar that was obviously popular. When Trelain came up, a few of the men in line stepped aside, letting the beautiful dancer go first. He smiled, but clearly didn’t find the gesture inappropriate. Mac figured he was used to being spoiled, and who wouldn’t want to spoil him?

When Trelain turned back to him, he had two glasses of champagne in his hands. He handed one to Mac. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just feel like celebrating.” He clinked his glass with Mac’s and took a sip.

Mac sipped too. “So, what are we celebrating?”

His eyes glistened. “Oh, I don’t know. Just the fact that you’re here, I guess.”

Jesus. He felt both flattered and frightened. He didn’t really want the responsibility for making Trelain happy. Did he?

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he looked up into the blue-black eyes.

“Hi, Mac. Really glad you could make it.”

He so wanted to hate this man, but the guy was kind of nice, to say nothing of ridiculously handsome. Not that he cared about that. And nobody ever said a fucking thief couldn’t be handsome. “Thanks.”

Daniel took one arm and Trelain the other. They walked over to a group of men who were chatting and sipping on the corner of the patio. His host introduced him to the group and slipped away with Trelain. At first Mac felt self-conscious, but the guys turned out to be great. Pretty quickly, he was embroiled in a discussion of local politics and how to keep Laguna from going the way of the rest of conservative Orange County. The men were all residents of the city, and they were all gay, but Mac found he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “So why don’t one of you run for City Council?”

The tall blond named Roger laughed. “Too much work; sadly I already put in a sixty-hour week at the firm.” He snuggled the cute, geeky-looking man next to him. “My honey doesn’t want me spending any more time away from him.”

His “honey,” the quiet one of the group, kissed Roger’s nose but didn’t comment.

Mac felt an arm twine through his. He looked down into that beautiful, sculptured face. “Hi.”

“Hi, Mac.” The group became very quiet at the dancer’s arrival. The turquoise eyes gazed up at him, a little glassy. Maybe a few champagnes? “Would you dance with me?”

Mac quelled the “hell, no” that tried to escape. This was the guest of honor. He looked up at all the men dancing. He’d be more conspicuous if he said no than if he just gave in. “I’ve never danced with a man before.”

He got the soft dimples in the carved cheeks. “It’s just the same. Come on.”

They walked the few steps onto the center of the terrace where the dancers were moving to a simple, slow beat. Good. Nothing tricky. Trelain raised his arms as a woman would, and Mac slipped his around the man.

He immediately learned two things. First, dancing with a man, at least this man, was nothing like dancing with a woman. Trelain’s back was hard and oh so warm. His long-fingered hands, while smaller than Mac’s, were still not feminine, and the silky hair smelled like…what? A man. Soap and a hint of a musky aftershave.

Trelain snuggled tight against him, resting his head in the crook of Mac’s shoulder, and that was when Mac learned the second thing. Women did not provide a hard cock to rub against him. Holy crap, he needed to back away. But his half-hard cock was rubbing against Trelain’s flat belly, and it felt so good. Way too good.

Trelain gave a little humming sound that might have been a moan, and though he could claim they were “just dancing,” his partner’s cock moved with mind-searing precision, up, down, a bit to the side. Mac’s cock was so huge, it hurt. Jesus, the thought of this man tortured him. The reality was more than he could stand. He had to get the hell out of here.

He ripped himself out of the dancer’s arms. “Sorry, gotta go.” Slouching a little in hopes that the bagginess of his cargoes would cover his throbbing erection, he headed through the open doors and across the great room. There were far fewer people to observe his humiliation in here. Goal: get to the door.

“Mac, don’t go.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Trelain and almost stopped. Hell, no. He had to go now. He almost made it to the front door when a big solid body stepped in front of him. “Mac, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Get out of my way, Terrebone.”

“Hell, no. Come with me.” The big man grabbed and pulled him into the hall that led toward the back of the house. Mac started to pull back when he was spun and pushed hard against the wall.

“Daniel. What are you doing? Don’t hurt him.” Trelain’s voice sounded distraught.

Terrebone pushed his face into Mac’s. “I’m not hurting him, darling. He’s hurting himself. This man has got to realize that he wants you and you want him and, for that matter, he probably wants me.”

 Thank you so much for visiting the blog!  :  )

Pregnant Men? Valentina Heart Brings Kings Conquest and a Book for You!

Hi everyone--

My special guest today is my friend, Valentina Heart, who is bringing her us a unique subject and a unique book. King's Conquest includes the subject of male pregnancy. I'll let Valentina tell you more about it, but let me tell you to be sure and comment to have a chance to win a pdf of King's Conquest. Don't forget your email! (And i love blog followers should you be so inclined). Here's Valentina--

Hello to everyone deciding to visit and take a peek at the newest posts here on Tara’s page. My name is Valentina Heart and I’m one of the many authors who write m/m romance. It is a pleasure to be here and talk about my book and certain subjects related to it.

After a bit of thought (read: wracking my brain for close to a month) I've decided to write about the topic of my upcoming release as well as the subject in general. Yes, I know, not very original, but it was the best I could come up with during the holidays when nothing seemed worth the effort (I blame it on all the sweets I was exposed to).

For me, being a published author hasn't changed or influenced my life at all. It is not my main or even a particularly significant source of income, so I still consider myself to be primarily a reader. That said, anyone who cares to glance at my Goodreads profile will see just how true that is, and for the most part I read male/male romance. I admit it freely – I am an addict who at the moment can't imagine not reading about guys getting it on.

My first encounter with male pregnancy in a romance happened over a year ago and I have been a fan ever since. I like the imaginative side of the concept best, because every author has his/her take on the subject and something as elaborate can never be considered boring. Explicit at times – sure – but boring? Not to me. Still, even male pregnancy has variations, believe it or not, and if I had to pick, I would say my favorite is that of the 'surprise' kind. You have shock, disbelief, the unconventional side of the situation and eventually acceptance with expectation. For me it’s beautiful how a man goes from rejection to ultimate protectiveness and is often willing to surrender his life for that of his child.

My male pregnancy story is different primarily because it’s a fantasy with some of the elements I like the most in such stories. From a forced marriage to risky pregnancy the two main characters manage to fall in love, and that is where the romantic in me always comes to the surface and adds extra sweetness into the mix.

King’s Conquest was envisioned as the first book in the series of three. At the time I was in the middle of writing a few books but this one honestly didn’t let me sleep until I wrote it down, and I did that in a very short period of time. Essentially it is a love story about a couple who for all intended purposes should hate each other, but instead quickly come to care too much.

Pregnancy is the main line of the plot but you will not find all the gory details in the first book. I needed Rin and Merin to start with a romance and everything else could wait. Without disclosing spoilers, I can say that none of the books will end with a cliffhanger. Partially because I don’t want to put pressure on the readers to buy the next one in the series, and for the most part because I truly hate cliffhangers.

Right now I’m at the end of the second book which will be somewhat longer than the first and is entirely from Merin’s point of view. I tried to show both sides of their relationship and how certain decisions and actions affected the balance between them.

I do realize I’m biased when it comes to my work, but I still consider this one to be the most romantic among my stories. I suppose it’s the feeling I got when I was writing it as well as every time I’ve read it since. It took courage on my part to write about a subject I love so much, because despite everyone else my own expectations were high and I had a lot to live up to. Can’t really say for others, but I ended up happy with the final product and am still a big fan of male pregnancy as the subject of m/m romance.

I would love to gain some new fans with this story, but I am perfectly happy with making those who’ve read my books so far interested in reading more. At the end, I do hope this genre gets more readers as well as authors willing to write, it’s always nice to talk about books.

Big thanks to Tara for having me;) 

Find Valentina HERE:

www.heart-valentina.com 

Facebook: Valentina Heart

Twitter: @HeartValentina

Goodreads: Valentina Heart

Email: valentinaheart84@gmail.com

 Books at: Loose Id

                Silver Publishing

                Dreamspinner Press

Excerpt from King’s Conquest by Valentina Heart

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/king-s-conquest-ebook-p-713

"No! That cannot be! Not another one! And a prince at that! I will kill him. I will not allow anyone to separate me from my king. The prince will have to go away."


* * * *


I felt the blood drain from my face as I watched the polished little cloud of magic that showed the speaking face of the king. My councilors surrounded me in the deadly silence, but of course they had probably already known what the king would demand as the price of peace. They were the ones who spoke to him, and I was nothing but an uneducated, out-of-the-blue heir.


"This isn't happening." I wallowed in denial because my brain just couldn't accept it.


"My Prince," Har, the kingdom's head advisor, spoke. "It is only common practice for the king to demand a reward."


I turned to look at him with what I'm sure was painful betrayal etched on my face. "But does it have to be me?"


"Our Lord King is dead, my Prince. You're next in the line for the throne," Ske said from my left.


"My father is barely in the ground and already I have to set his mistakes right. Isn't there another way?" I pleaded at the faces around me.


"My Prince, the king didn't even want to hear of it."


I bowed my head in defeat. There wasn't anyone else. Not from the direct line. But even if there was, I could never have saved my own life at the price of someone else's. "When does he want me there?"


"By sun fall, my Prince," Har supplied while I only gasped.


"But that means I have to leave right away!"


"Yes, my Prince."


"Am I allowed to bring anything?"


"Only personal items. Once the territories merge again, we will fall back to the old ways. Your robes will be two-colored. At Jede Court you will not be allowed to wear the colors of Kari. The king ordered anything orange you might bring to be destroyed." I gasped again, not believing my ears. The boar was turning me into a prisoner.


"We must go, my Prince. The king has made his demand public. If you do not comply, he will declare war upon us again," Ske prompted.


"I do not even know what an uralain does," I mumbled, eliciting shocked gasps from the councilors around me. It prompted me to look up and all the widened eyes I saw made me scared. "What?" I asked.


"You do not know your duties?"


"I don't know anything. My father had all but forbade me to breathe, and now that he is dead, I am ushered into a whole new and unknown world where surely some horrors are expected of me."


They actually looked stricken, and that didn't help matters. "Come, we must go. I will explain on the way," Har said, as he came to me, waited until I moved, then followed.


"You do know about coupling?" he asked, making me blush.


"Yes. But only between a male and a female. My father told me that I would never lie with a man and that such knowledge wasn't necessary. I only know not to let seed near my markings."


"That is most unfortunate," Har said worriedly. "But I will acquire a book for you. A manual, if you will. It will do good to study it before you are alone with the king."


So much for that help, I thought to myself. All of them were forthcoming when they were afraid that I might cause a scandal or go against their advice. Not that I ever did, but they were cautious and considerate. But be it that I needed comfort, advice, or just some company, who had been there for me? Certainly no one from that group.


"Wait!" I said, grabbing his hand. "Am I supposed to be at his disposal?"


Har suddenly looked worried and uncomfortable. "Yes."


"I'm going there to be his whore?" I screamed, not believing what I was hearing. Obviously I had been under the illusion that the king wanted me as a prize and not a bed-toy.


"Uralains are not whores. They provide service to their king. It's an honor."


"Honor? Really? Why don't you do it then?" I asked, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.


Har was appalled. I could see it clearly on his face. It was easy to thrust me into disgrace, but mention it to someone else from the council or to the nobles from the court, and you were lucky to escape a duel.


"You won't be alone. The king has many. He probably won't even ask for you after the first night," Har rushed to explain.


But my jaw just dropped. Not only were they whoring me, they were expecting me to be one of his harem. "I'm not doing it."


"But my Prince, he will bring war upon us." Har laid his palms against my hands and almost begged.


"I do not care. What kind of a prince am I if I leave my kingdom to become a whore? I have conditions. Your job is to make them happen. If not, we'll have ourselves another war." I announced this firmly with a conviction I certainly didn't feel.


"What conditions?" Har straightened his spine.


"I want fidelity. A written contract saying he is not allowed to sleep with anyone else except me. I certainly won't be a common whore at his court. How will people look at me? I won't be able to look at myself in the mirror." I shivered. "No. I want a legal obligation and I want a ceremony making our commitment valid."


"But, my Prince, the king has superior army and a richer kingdom. He will never agree for you to rule with him." Har was pale and panicked now, and I would have felt sorry for him if I wasn't close to a heart attack myself.


"I don't care about ruling. I don't know the first thing about it. He can even write it down in the contract that I have no say when it comes to the matters of the kingdom. My father made sure that I would be completely incompetent when the time came," I said with a certain dose of bitterness. After all, I was a bargaining chip. "I just want to have a secure future. I want to be married and not some common whore he could sell in a year's time."


"The king will want an heir," Har tried again, thinking how I would change my mind out of fear. But he didn't realize that death seemed almost sweet when compared to the uncertainty of being traded away like a piece of coal.


"I am perfectly capable of bringing life to this world. If by some chance I do not by a certain time, he can nullify the agreement. Write it all down. I'm not going anywhere before I get a signature on that." I shut up before my voice started to shake.


"My Prince, it is dangerous!"


"No more dangerous than what you lot had in mind for my future." I ended the conversation and turned in the direction of my chambers.


I was sick to my stomach, and wished for the capability to wield sighting magic, just so that I could see what I was in for. For the life of me, I couldn't grasp the idea behind men coupling. My father was an idiot for denying me knowledge.


In my room I walked up to the basin, knelt in front of it, and threw up everything I'd eaten that day.

***********************************************

I think we all want MORE! Don't forget to leave your comment and email for the drawing. 

One more reminder. The voting for the LRC Best of 2011 is still going on through Tuesday. I am ecstatic to have been nominated for Best Author of 2011 and Best Series of 2011. Here are the links if you would like to vote. Thank you for visiting!  :  )

http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/2012/01/best-author-of-2011-nominees.html

http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/2012/01/best-series-of-2011-nominees-are.html

Guys and Balls. Kind of Like Deceptive Attraction.

Just a quick post because i enjoyed this video made from a film called Guys and Balls. It sort of reminds me of my hero, Caleb, in Deceptive Attraction. I have another  great guest coming Monday. Valentina Heart will be here with King's Conquest. Don't miss it! And also please go vote in the LRC Best of 2011 Awards. I am delighted to be nominated for Best Author and Best Series of the Year! Voting ends Tuesday! Here are the links!!

http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/2012/01/best-author-of-2011-nominees.html

http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/2012/01/best-series-of-2011-nominees-are.html

Enjoy Guys and Balls.  :  )

Researching Black Magick, Werewolves and BDSM with Shara Lanel -- Blame It On the Night!

Hi everyone--

A surprise guest is joining me today. Shara Lanel, a fellow Loose Id author, has a great new release and i wanted to share it with you. Blame It On the Night is about one of your favorites-- werewolves!! So get busy reading about Shara's passions for research, writing and taxes.  LOL I lied about the taxes. Leave a comment and you can win one of Shara's back list. 

A Book Junkie Who Writes

Sometimes I think I write because there’s no other career where I can learn about as many crazy topics as I want. Black magick, Native Americans, law enforcement, poison, BDSM, and the history of North American wolves, to name a few. Depending on my mood, I can get into everything from Regency dress to ghost hunting to blunt force trauma—and I can say I’m working! I delve into some boring topics, too, like HTML, web building software, and promotion, but even figuring those things out can be fascinating.

I’m not sure which came first: research or book addiction, but I now have several shelves devoted to history, two to witchcraft, three to law enforcement (and serial killers, murder, and various government agencies). Another three shelves are devoted to UFOs, ESP, and mythology. Honestly, I could never read all of these books in my lifetime.

But now it’s time to gather all my receipts for the past year and give them to my hubby to do the taxes. That means, now’s the time he gets to see all the money I’ve spent on research books in 2011—eek! It’s good that they can be written off on taxes, because, yes, they are part of my job, but it’s so so bad that they have to be added up to a somewhat overlarge total. Plus I’ve already started on 2012’s supply of research books—luckily hubby won’t see those until next January!

So my most recent release, BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT, is a sequel, but it involved a lot of new research on topics like the history of gray wolves, bondage clubs, the original settlers of Western NY, and law enforcement jurisdictions. It may sound dry put that way, but all the research was anything but. Half of it never even made it into the book, but it fed into my ideas for the characters and the setting. (The first book, by the way, is BLAME IT ON THE MOON. Both can be found at www.Loose-Id.com.)

Now, before I leave you to the delicious excerpt, I want to let you know that I’m giving away an e-copy of one of my older books—all you need to do is leave a comment. Tell me about the books you love to read!

BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT Blurb:

Human/werewolf relations were forbidden. Guy’s father had made that clear years ago, but Guy had come very close to disobeying with naïve, teenage Olivia. He’d barely kept his body under control, as he’d held her during her first shocking orgasm. Years later, on edge with anger, grief, and the pull of the moon, Guy knows she’s the last person he needs near him.

Olivia is overcome with humiliation at the mere thought of seeing Guy again, though he’s starred in all of her fantasies over the past several years, but she refuses to leave his doorstep until he answers her questions about her missing sister and the dead body found on his property. Problem is, he’s ordering her to leave while blocking the door, telling her to get lost while pinning her between his hard body and the table, saying he doesn’t know what he’s doing while his every touch takes Olivia closer to heaven.

Sometimes forbidden love is worth the risk, but sometimes it leads to revenge and murder.

Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Blame-it-on-the-Night.aspx

Blame It on the Night Excerpt:

Olivia clapped her hands together. “So are you going to offer me coffee or a beer or something?”

Guy hopped up, but not to head to the kitchen. He pointed to the window. “Don’t you want to get back to town before this gets really bad?”

Olivia stood and, for a moment, thought he could be the murderer, but that made no sense. She knew Guy, or thought she did. He was a good man. “Jeez, not very hospitable, are you?”

“It’s just better if you leave.” His face had been hard when she’d arrived, like there was some unknown emotion scarring it, but it had loosened up as they talked. Now it had returned to granite.

Well, if she’d had any hope of a little fling with Guy while she was up here, that quelled the idea. Not that she’d had the idea. She’d been over her crush for years. She needed to find Amy, fix her problem, and catch the next plane south. No time for personal entanglements. It was just that since she’d seen Guy at the lumberyard, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And her body…well, it seemed more alive than it had been in months. When she got back to Florida, she’d need to spend some time taking in the nightlife, put herself out there more so she could meet someone. It was her own fault that she spent so much time alone.

He’d opened the door and looked out, but now he was frowning. “Shit.”

“What?” She was still sock-footed, so he couldn’t push her out the door that fast. She followed his gaze and saw…gray, and she could only see that because of the powerful barn and house lights. “Shit.” It wasn’t that the snow had accumulated that much — probably an inch or two of fresh stuff — but the wind had picked up, blowing the devilish ice crystals everywhere.

“And you’re driving that low-to-the-ground rental car. Does it have winter tires on it, at least?” 

Normal New York conversation, but Guy’s eyes looked intense, like there was a more compelling reason for her to leave than the snow.

“Um, maybe?” she said to keep it light, but Guy’s knuckles were white from holding the door too tight, and his other hand shook as he brushed back his hair. A few stray flakes settled, then melted on his face, leaving tiny drops that Olivia wanted to lick off. Okay, where had that thought come from? She forced herself to look away. “Well, you’re right. I should head out. It’s not too deep yet, so I won’t have to worry about getting stuck in any drifts.”

Guy shut the heavy door against the cold and leaned back, shoving his hands in his pockets. His chest moved with his breath as if he’d just completed a long run. “I could drive you to town with the truck.” Not that he sounded happy with the idea.

Olivia shook her head. “No. Then I’ll be stuck without a car, and I want to keep looking for Amy.”

“I can pick you up in the morning to come get your car.”

“Once I get off your road, it won’t be that bad. Well plowed, I’m sure.” She reached for her still-damp sneakers and walked over to the half-log bench at the trestle table to put them on. She tried not to think about the deep ditches on either side of Guy’s unlit, narrow road.

“And you don’t even have boots.” His hand was out of his pocket and through his hair again, leaving odd little peaks that somehow made him look sexier.

“The car has a very nice heater.” She didn’t know why she was arguing with the truck idea. It was sensible. Maybe it was that he seemed so unwilling; she didn’t want to obligate him to come get her in the morning. Shoes on, she popped up, grabbed her coat, and walked to the door, which he still blocked with his large body. “Seriously, there’s not much on the ground if I leave now. No problem.”

He shook his head slowly, his jaw clamped, his eyes looking over her head instead of at her, his hands jammed in his pockets again. He certainly didn’t look like he was going to move.
Olivia took a step forward and reached for the door handle just below his elbow. She hoped ingrained manners would get him to move to the side. His hand flashed out and grabbed her forearm.

Jeez, maybe she should revisit the murderer idea.

“You have to leave.” His voice was like grinding stone.

She rolled her eyes as she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Then you have to move out of my way.”

“Leave, dammit.” But now he gripped her shoulders with both his hands to the point of pain, and something happened with his eyes.

Olivia blinked, and Guy’s eyes seemed normal again, but his thighs pressed against hers, making her stumble backward, toward the table. He didn’t loosen his grip, and Olivia abandoned her protest because of her sudden awareness of Guy’s muscular thighs, warm hands, and musky scent. Why was he saying one thing so passionately but doing the exact opposite, like his body was possessed? One minute his piercing gaze set her body on fire, the next he stared over her head as if he couldn’t look at her.

Find more of this excerpt at http://sharalanel.com/books/blame-it-on-the-night/excerpt-blame-it-on-the-night/

~Shara

Thank you so much for visiting, Shara. And everyone, don't forget to comment!  :  )

Meet the Boys and the Buns at Jessica Freely's Dharma Cafe. Book for You Too.

Hi everyone--
I'm delighted to welcome my friend, Jessica Freely..., oh excuse me. Actually, my guest is Chef Agatha of the Dharma Cafe. I'll let her take over (plan on some great recipes!) but first let me tell you that Jessica is giving away a copy of her brand new release, Dharma Cafe, to one lucky commenter. Since the Dharma Cafe is magical, expect something pretty special.  Okay Agatha, you're ON!

Hello everyone, my name is Chef Agatha, and I run the Dharma Café.

Do you know this Jessica Freely person? I mean, I know she's mad, but, is she dangerous? She seems to be under the impression that just because she's written a book about my café, that somehow means that I am her creation and she can simply order me about, sending me all over the internet, to perfectly nice, innocent people's blogs, to inflict her idea of promotion upon them.

Well I'm not going to have it, I tell you.

Yes, her little book is quite nice and certainly the story of Charlie and Samura, my waiter and busboy, is one that readers who like a nice angsty, slightly silly romance will enjoy. But honestly, there is a limit. I'm a cook, not a PR flack!

Jessica's asked me to share an excerpt from the book and to run a contest so that one of you can win a free copy. Well, all right, I suppose there's no harm in it, but first, I'm going to share some food with you. Yesterday's Scrambled Eggs with Salami and Chives seemed to go over well on the Coffee and Porn in the Morning blog (http://cupoporn.net/), so today, how about a nice yeast coffee cake?

Cosmic Secrets of the Universe Sweet Yeast Dough

3 cups milk

1 1/2 cups sugar

3 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 cup melted butter

6 eggs plus 3 yolks

3 packets dry yeast

10 1/2 cup flour

2 tablespoons open-mindedness, more if needed

Combine milk, sugar, salt, and melted butter together in a pan. Bring to a sudden boil and then remove from heat. Pour into a large bowl and allow to cool until lukewarm. Beat eggs and yolks together. Add eggs and yeast to cooled milk mixture, stir until yeast is dissolved. You may want to get in there with your hands and rub the yeast a bit. It likes that. Let the mixture rest. Soon you will see the yeast doing its thing. It will look very primordial but don't freak out. Nature can be a little freaky. And delicious. Just go with it.

Sift in the flour. Try to convince Samura he needs to be the one to teach Charlie magic. When that fails, start spinning a lot of cosmic-sounding bull about matter and energy. That should keep them occupied until you can distract them with something else. Like the recipe box! Yes, that should work.

After a certain point you can't really stir the dough any longer because it will be too thick. That's when it's time to turn it out onto a clean surface and knead it, working in more flour as you go. Keep horny teenage boys away from it at this stage. Trust me.

When the dough is nice and elastic, not too sticky, but not too dry, place it in a large buttered bowl and put a damp towel over it. Set it somewhere warm to rise for two or three hours, until it's doubled in bulk. Punch the dough down and knead it again. Same admonition about the boys applies. Girls too, for that matter.

By now, Charlie and Samura will have given up and gone out in the alley to practice magic, which is what they should have been doing from the start, and you will have a very nice sweet yeast dough that is good with all kinds of fillings. You can divide it up into small pieces and make filled rolls using pureed apricots mixed with apricot jam. Or you can roll it out flat and sprinkle it with cinnamon, sugar, and nuts, and roll it up like a pinwheel. You could add some orange peel and raisins and bake it in loaves. Anything you want, really.  Whatever you decide, just let it rise again before baking, another half hour to an hour. And while it's baking brush it with more melted butter. You can't overdo it with the butter. That's probably always true, unlike that twaddle about matter and energy, which is really only accurate for this plane of existence.

Bake at 350 degrees until golden brown.

There.  I feel better now. Coffee cake will do that. And of course, having such a gracious hostess like Tara. An extra slice of coffee cake for you, Tara dear. You've earned it.

Now everyone, I would love to hear about the kinds of food you enjoy. Please leave a comment with the name of your favorite food, or a recipe if you wish, and you'll be entered to win a free copy of Dharma Café. And in the meantime, here is an excerpt and a blurb for the book.

Blurb: At a magical restaurant where good food heals the soul, a waiter and a busboy fall in love. But each has secrets and in the dangerous world of food sorcery, secrets, and french fries, can kill.

Buy Links:

http://www.loose-id.com/Dharma-Cafe.aspx

http://www.jessicafreely.com//book-page-dharma-café.html

Excerpt:

That night Samura dreamt that Agatha needed 233,600.92 loaves of bread and it was up to him and Charlie to knead the dough.

That much dough could not be worked with just hands. It required the whole body. There was no other option but for both of them to take off all of their clothes and roll around together in the warm, fragrant, springy dough.

The human body bore a remarkable similarity to yeast dough, so when Samura first ran his hand down Charlie’s chest and over his flank, it was a pure accident.

No, really.

Well, maybe not.

But since this was Samura’s dream, it was a pure accident. Just as it was merely happenstance when Samura rolled into Charlie and their combined weight trapped them in a valley of gently undulating bread dough. There was no hope of climbing out nor indeed of doing much of anything except laying pressed against each other, skin to skin.

And then Charlie put his arms around Samura and kissed him. On the mouth.

Human imagination is a remarkable thing. When combined with desire it has the power to create in realistic detail experiences of which the person imagining them has absolutely no actual knowledge. And that is how Samura, who had never kissed anyone, felt every detail of Charlie’s soft lips against his, of their mouths opening and their tongues meeting in that first shy press.

Charlie tasted like every good thing Samura had ever eaten all combined into one tantalizing morsel.

And Samura was hungry.

He longed to devour Charlie, not just with his mouth, but with his whole body. His member grew hard, but he wasn’t ashamed.

Charlie wanted him just as much. There was no hiding the fact that Charlie too was aroused. They lay pressed against one another, chest to chest, groin to groin. Charlie’s arousal nestled alongside Samura’s.

They flexed their hips and the friction sent tingles pulsing from Samura’s loins out to the tips of his fingers and toes. He kissed Charlie harder and thrust, moving his hands down Charlie’s back to cup his perfect, tight, round bottom. He held Charlie against him as they bucked together.

Charlie broke their kiss and moaned. “Samura! You’re perfect. Perfect. I want you to teach me everything.”

Charlie spread his legs and wrapped them around Samura’s hips. He kissed Samura all over his face and neck, and ran his hands through Samura’s hair.

Charlie’s hot body, his words, and his touch intoxicated Samura and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed Charlie again, hard, driving his tongue into that hot, luscious mouth. It was like licking cream out of a cannoli, and every taste only made Samura desperate for more. He needed to get closer to Charlie. Closer even than they already were. Samura opened his mind to him, but Charlie said, “No. Don’t you dare wait on me now. Come on, Samura. You know what to do.”

And amazingly, he did.

Charlie’s body opened up for him and they melded together like salt and pepper, like strawberries and basil, like cream in a cannoli.

Samura had never known such feelings were possible. Charlie was all around him, holding him, rocking him, squeezing and stroking him. “Samura!” he shouted.

Every bad and broken thing inside Samura seemed to mend and turn to golden light. That light ignited joy in every cell of his body and poured forth from him in a torrent of release. “Charlie!”

* * * *

Samura awoke in his own bed, drenched with sweat and… not just sweat.

This sort of thing had been happening for several years now—the stirrings, his body’s responses at the most inconvenient moments, the dreams. Dreams of a warm, firm body against his, a nameless, faceless someone—someone who smelled good, who felt good. Dreams from which he awoke to wet sheets.

Samura had done his best to ignore all of it, and for the most part, he’d been successful.

Only now those dreams had a face, and a name.

Charlie.

Had he cried it out loud?

* * * *

What a bizarre dream! Charlie awoke with cum on his belly and Samura’s name on his lips.

He was never going to look at bread the same again.

The pale blue light of predawn leaked into the room from behind the window shade. In the half light he saw Samura sitting up, looking about him in bewilderment.

Shit. Had Charlie cried Samura’s name out loud?

“Did you—”

Charlie panicked. “No!”

Samura nodded. “Okay. Good.”

“Good,” said Charlie.

They stared at each other.

The door burst open and Agatha swept in, a large bowl of whipped cream in her arms. “Wake up boys!” she cried, whisking the stuff so vigorously little flecks of it scattered far and wide. “I’m going to need help from both of you today. We’re making cream filled buns!”

YUM. For the boys and the buns. Remember to leave a comment to be entered to win Dharma Cafe. Also please remember to VOTE in the LRC Best of 2011 Awards. Vote HERE for Best Author and HERE for Best Series. Thank you so much for coming by. And i love blog followers a LOT! :  )