Monday, October 28, 2013

Before I Leave

So... I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year.

I was having this conversation quite a while ago with one of my editors, in which I was laying out my to-write list.

This year I've written Roll, revised it, and sent it in. Got it accepted, it's the first of three (maybe five... both Hector and Ann-Marie, who are side characters, are clamoring for their own stories...) novels expected out of the series, with the second being Blues, and the third being Classic.

I've also revised and finished Blood Sight, my NaNo project from 2011... and it's also been accepted. Aaaand it's the first in a series of four novels; Howling Bitch, Demon Halo, and Ghost Magic rounding out THAT series...

(Both of these novels have been accepted and will be available in early 2014, end of February for Roll and sometime mid-march for Blood Sight...)

To which my editor said to me, in all seriousness, "You realize you've committed yourself to writing two novels a year for the next two to three years, right?"

Um.... well.


Except while I knew that math, I didn't really add it all up. Just what I'd soft-committed to. (There's some sort of unwritten rule that, as a novelist with a series title, you have to put out one book in the series every year... it's not written in stone, but it may as well be, loud as some people scream - me included! - when they don't get their annual Harry Dresden fix; or Game of Thrones, or WHATEVER... )

On the other hand, I wrote a novel, a longish short story (Synchronous Rotations), edited two novels (Marked Man is still out there floating around... ), 25 short stories for the Promptly collection, and a handful of other short stories (My Girlfriend's Gun, Tanked, Blood Cries Up, Pistols & Guns, aaand I'm sure I'm forgetting something....) this year.

(Wow, that was parenthetical...)

So. I can do this. I really can.

But I do know it's going to be challenging.

It took me from April until mid-July to write the 60,000 words that became Roll. (and while I was doing that, I wrote at least one short story every week) And it took me November 2012, and most of September to write the 60,000 words that became Blood Sight.

We'll see if I complete the NaNoWriMo challenge again this year. But even if I don't, it'll give me a headstart on those two novels I need to write....

I probably won't be here on my blog much in the meanwhile. But I do post regularly to Facebook so if you want to see what I have to say, pop over there and take a peek. Also, I'll probably be posting daily word counts to Twitter for November.

Monday, October 14, 2013

The End of Your Tour, don't forget your souvenir photos!

So my little blog tour is all wrapped up... thanks to all the wonderful bloggers who hosted me and helped me out.

(There's still about a week before I wrap up the contest, so if you haven't entered, please do so... )

I've gotten to talk to a bunch of wonderful people about stuff that interests me - and hopefully you, dear reader!

If you missed any of the stops on the tour, I'll list them here for your clicking pleasure.

Torquere's Live Journal Blog

Kinzie Rose

Chris T. Kat

Elizabeth L. Brooks

Victoria Chisholm

Sommer Marsden

V. L. Locey

A.R. Moler

So, I hoped you all enjoyed the tour as much as I did... psst, enter the contest, right down there, okay? Okay!

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The Demoniac Codex Novels

Less than two months after announcing the acceptance of my first novel, Roll, by Torquere Press, I'd like to announce that my urban supernatural novel, Blood Sight, has been picked up by Hot Ink/Vamptasy.

Spare me your pitiful attempts at sarcasm.
One again, I'll get more details for you as soon as I have them. I'm not sure how long the acceptance to print takes; altho I've been told by my editor for Roll that we can be expecting that to be in our hot little hands by the end of February.

Blood Sight is the first in an expected four novel series called The Demoniac Codex. I've already drawn up a complete outline for book two, with features the Paracop, Nico, and his misadventures with demons and werewolves, entitled Howling Bitch.

Blood Sight, A Demoniac Codex novel

When the half-functional oracle, Rachael, discovers a vampire at her front door, she is both frightened and angry. Her emotional turmoil is made worse in that this particular vampire is her former lover, Marcus. Reluctantly, driven by new dangers - attacks by vicious magical poodles - and new enemies - the angry, jealous vampire child, Jonathon, the two band together to do what they can to save Rachael, and the crippled spirit of the Oracle inside her head. 

Aided along the way by a Paranormal cop, the archangel Rafael, and Rachael's brother, they deal with kidnappers, demons, lies and deceit, and the difficulty of flying across the ocean when one cannot be exposed to the sun to discover the true nature of their enemy, and their reluctant love for each other.  

Special thanks to The Antique Toys, whose songs "Falling" and "Follow You (Into the Dark)", I listened to over and over again while I was writing this novel. Especially thanks to my major girl crush, Annabel Adams, the lead singer, who has a small cameo role in the novel as Marcus's blood-doll.  

Also thanks to Sean McCaffrey, my model, who is the perfect Marcus. Depending on how much creative control I get with the novel cover (I don't know, never done this before) I'd like him to be my cover model... Sean is one of the creative leads at Ladies of Steampunk

If you haven't entered my contest yet, there's still plenty of time! Enter the contest!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Restricted Release; The Not Quite a Blog Tour by Sommer Marsden

Can you see me now?

I recently wrote a blog for Tabitha Rayne about the voyeurism in my new novel Restricted Release. Funny thing, though, I guess I felt the need to be fair because I put a little exhibitionism in my book to balance things out. In fact, the large (ceiling to floor) windows in the houses featured in Restricted Release could almost be considered a fourth in the sexual ménages found within its pages. They're almost another willing partner in the sexual situations.

Clara never considered herself a voyeur, but she also never figured herself for an exhibitionist...until Nadia and her toys showed up. Then all bets were off. Clara found her inner exhibitionist.

(Warning NSFW)

“How about you make her feel pretty, Nadia?” Matt said, his voice smoke and vapors.

It was in my head, his voice. In my gut and in my cunt and winding its way steadily into my heart. My soul perked up when he spoke, and when I thought of him touching me, it soared.

It was a dangerous thing, my connection with him. Too much, too fast, and yet—I craved it when I was honest with myself.

“I can do that,” she said. Her pretty slim hand found its way into my pants and she slid her finger along my slit. I was still wet from earlier and the rich musky scent of my previous orgasm filled my head.

“In fact I have just the thing if you’re game. I want you to put your hands up there on the glass. Both of them.”

I did it and prayed no one was on the roof looking down. It was really the only way for anyone to see me but for Matt. He could see all of me but for the window frame that cut the glass in half. He could see her pushed up tight against me. Her hands in my pants. The look on my face. And I could see all of him. Handsome him pulling a tall-backed stool up to the windowpane and taking a seat to watch.

“Actually, raise your hands like you’re under arrest,” she said loud enough for him to hear.

I did it.

She slipped my tee over my head, mussing my hair. It fell in a crazy halo around my face. I was bare and chilled and then she pressed my palms flat to the window again.

“Check out those perky pretty tits, Matty,” Nadia said and left the room.

I was breathing like I might cry.

“Just be calm, Clara. They really are perfect. You worry too much. You are so…spectacular.”

And then I did cry because I wanted so badly to believe him but it felt so much like a lie to me.

Aren't you glad I decided to be fair? :)

Much like I said in my voyeuristic blog, if you asked me about exhibitionism as turn-on, I'd tell you it doesn’t really work for me. Not my thing. Not for me. But when I wrote that particular snippet...I gave it a second thought.

I might have to change my opinion on the whole being seen scene.


Copyright © SOMMER MARSDEN, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

We sat in the center of his box-cluttered living room floor on a large blanket. Around us was scattered some leftover takeout, cheese, crackers, a box of lemon cookies, mixed nuts, olives, pickles and a bottle of wine.
“This should be disgusting,” he said, eating a pickle with a piece of cheese on a cracker.

“But it‘s so, so good,” I said, eating my own cracker with cheese. I ate it in small nibbles because my stomach was electric.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Because you barely seem to be eating.” He touched my leg with his bare foot. He was warm.

“I‘m eating.” I pulled the sweatshirt he‘d draped over me close to my body. Besides his sweatshirt, I wore my white slouchy socks and we‘d located my panties.

He held out a box of cookies. “I’m good,” I said.

Matt studied me. “I‘m not as dumb as I look, you know.”

I ate the rest of my cracker and took a sip of wine. It was nice. It had that whiskey aftertaste I usually hate and yet I didn‘t this time. There was enough of a fruity burst in it to temper the oak. “I don‘t think you look dumb at all. I think you look really smart,” I said.

I hoped he didn‘t hear the mixture of annoyance and anxiety in my voice. I wanted to get past the food thing.
“So tell me, mysterious neighbor. Why do you seem to be a person who sticks very close to home? Why do you seem so…gun-shy? Is that a good description?”

I tried to nod but my head barely moved.

“I know why I‘ve been a monkish man for almost a year. Why have you been Sister Clara Barrett?”
I cleared my throat. “I don‘t know.”

He cocked his head and then cut his eyes away. He tried to make it look nonchalant, but I knew what he was doing. He was giving me a moment to consider the situation.



Matt held up a hand, looking me right in the eye so I felt totally naked. For a crazy moment I felt as if there were no barriers between what was inside of me and what was inside of him. He said, “You were bold enough this morning to straight up tell me you wanted to have sex with me.”

I opened my mouth but he kept that silencing hand up and I shut my mouth with an audible snap. His fingers slipped beneath my sock, circled my ankle and he said very softly, “Please let me finish before you throw up your security fences and barriers.”

My throat was tight. I nodded.

“You were bold enough to watch me in my bathroom. When I probably could have spotted you at any time, and I sorta kind of did at the end there. And…” He squeezed my ankle and the pressure went right to my pussy. “You were bold enough to come over here on a…” He chuckled. “Booty call.”

I made a small noise of protest but then laughed. Our laughter mingled and I felt a rightness I couldn‘t remember feeling. It scared the shit out of me.

“But you won‘t tell me what your history is, Clara?” He didn‘t say it to belittle me. I could tell he wasn‘t angry. It was simply a question to help him understand. And that made me tell him.

I finished my wine in three big gulps and leaned back on my hands, keeping my legs in crisscross-applesauce fashion.

“I was married.” I picked at a loose thread on my sock and then looked at him. His eyes were amazing. Gorgeous and kind and deep—if they were the windows to Matt Millen’s soul, his soul was a wonder of the Universe.

“I‘m going to say this in one big breath and get it over with, okay?” I said, feeling my eyes sting a little. I willed myself not to cry. I could not cry. That would be stupid. That bad part of my life was over. I needed to move past it.

“Okay,” Matt said. His hand stayed around my ankle, loose but comforting. He wasn‘t eating or drinking, but he wasn‘t poking or prodding either. He was waiting. Listening. Paying attention.

“I was married to a man who wasn‘t…nice.” I shrugged but it felt like I was being blasé about something that was anything but. So I stilled my body and went on, willing myself to be strong. “He didn’t beat me or anything. But he carved me up emotionally. My sister Cat once said it would have been better if he had beaten me.” My voice had gotten small. My stomach hurt.

His eyes flashed with anger but he kept his face schooled. “And why is that?”

I blew out a shuddery breath and whispered. “She said that if he‘d left bruises on me—broke bones—I‘d have known that it was wrong. But as it stood, he got inside my head and…” I tapped my temple. “Fucked with me. He played on my biggest fears and weaknesses to control me. It‘s like in those books where you read about demons and possession and Hell,” I laughed. “He infiltrated my brain and he trapped me with my own fear.”

Matt sighed and popped an olive in his mouth. “I‘m going to go out on a limb here, slim lady, and say one of your issues is food and body image?”

My cheeks heated and I nodded, saying nothing at all. I had to fight the urge to cover myself with his sweatshirt. To pull it down over my knees and hide myself in it. It was a war I still waged most days, even thought I was alone about 80 percent of the time.

He watched me. He was waiting.


Clara is the recovering anorexic who’s nearly become a shut-in after the end of her emotionally abusive marriage. Matt is the new boy next door. Graphic artist, nice guy, funny…accepting of Clara.  She wants him, he wants her—but Clara is afraid.

Nadia is the stand-in—Matt’s idea, Clara’s challenge to accept. A longtime friend of Matt’s, she’s a sexual surrogate intended to guide Clara until she’s not afraid of Matt’s desire for her or hers for him. Twosomes become threesomes, watching becomes touching and lust becomes love.

When Matt moved in next door, lust was the last thing Clara expected. Two lovers never crossed her mind. And the need to make a choice was something she thought she’d never encounter. But she’s bolder now, healing, and everything has changed. And a choice must be made, no matter how hard.

Inside scoop: Clara’s healing includes a hot woman who wants to show her how desirable she is, as well as f/m/f menagés.

Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Ellora’s Cave


Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and Learning to Drown. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Book Trailer

So, I spent some time working on this yesterday....


Check it out; I wrote Blood Cries Up with this song in mind... Jonah Knight's music just does that to me. 

Hope you like it. Don't forget to buy your copy at Torquere or Amazon...

And don't forget to enter my giveaway... 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Blood Cries Up

My ghost story, Blood Cries Up, releases today at Torquere Press...

Blurb: Since the death of his sister, Dariel's been haunting her grave. Then he meets Zach. It's love at first sight -- unfortunately Zach is a ghost. An accidental possession results in Zach moving into Dariel's body, but before they can fully figure that out, they learn that there's more to Zach's death that the suicide it had seemed -- much more. With the help of the cemetery cat, Dariel and Zach will have to confront the diabolic Isaac Caine and return Zach's soul to its proper resting place.


"In the olden days," he said, "the church wouldn't let suicides or unbaptized people be buried on consecrated ground. Suicide's a sin. So, sometimes people would drag their relatives over and bury them just outside the wall. About forty years ago, this particular church yard cut a doorway--" Zach led me beneath the arch. Drooping flowers adorned the curved exit between the main cemetery and the suicide garden. "-- between the two sections and held a little ceremony to forgive us our sins."
Garden was exactly the right word. There were no gravestones like in the neat rows behind us. Plants and flowers and small statues dotted the landscape and a tiny, low wall, no higher than my knee, circled the entire. I'd never even seen this part of the graveyard before. A placard in the center -- I snapped on my flashlight to read it -- gave the details of the history, much as Zach had just given them to me.
"I don't remember much from before. I was just here. So, the logic is, suicide." He turned his face aside for a long moment, and I barely heard his next words. "I mean, I was gay, after all. That's a sin, right? Certainly something I should kill myself over."
I blinked back sudden tears. "Don't ever say that," I snapped. I don't know what I meant to do, hug him or something, but that was stupid. He was long since dead, and there was no comfort I could give. I went to put my arms around him and... fell into him. Or he fell into me. I don't know. But suddenly we were all mixed up together. I could feel him thinking, inside my head. I could feel him marveling at the feel of a body, feel his mind directing my eyes where to look, down my long brown arms to strong fingers. He used my hands to touch my face.

Author Extra

A Janus Story-teller

One of the great aspects of life is duality. Fear of death, dying, and dead creatures; fascination with ghosts, spirits, and the places of the dead. By nature, human beings are illogical, inconsistent, whimsical creatures. We are a conglomerate of greed and wisdom, generosity and foolhardiness, capable of great sacrifice and great stupidity. Human beings are fascinating; and on the plus side, it gives us writers a TON of stuff to
write about.

I have a mild necrophobia; I get remarkably uncomfortable around dead things. Yet I grew up on a farm and have participated – actively – in the turning of chickens into dinner. I won't go to funerals (long story that has
to do with how I remember things and has nothing to do with respect or lack thereof.) but I find graveyards to be peaceful and wonderful places. I like to explore cemeteries and make grave rubbings. I have a framed rubbing from a gravestone framed and hanging up in my living room. I am fascinated by death, but I have come to grips with my own. I have not personally had a paranormal experience, but I don't in the slightest bit doubt friends who have. I have had two near-death experiences; neither of them involved white lights or feelings of comfort, but having skated so close to the edge, I'm not afraid to die. (I'd rather Not Die Right Now, mind you, but when it happens, it does.)

So, the idea of love and death combined is interesting to me. What happens when someone you love dies? Well, we all know a bit about that. But what happens when someone dies, and then they fall in love? Now there's an interesting dichotomy.

My story started from a simple image; a ghost in the graveyard, falling in love with a living person...

Other Stuff

I'm blog touring around for the next two weeks... if you missed it yesterday, I had a spot at Torquere's Live Journal Giving Me The Creeps and I should be on Kinzie Rose's blog tomorrow..

Also, don't forget to enter the raffle... I'm adding prizes and whatnot, so click, enter, win!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Your Tour Starts Now

A few months ago, when I was writing up Blood Cries Up, I did a cemetery tour with my friend Greg E (to whom Blood Cries up is dedicated) in Portsmouth, Virginia. (I talk about this a bit more on Torquere's livejournal page)

I love old cemeteries and looking at the gravestones. When we got back to Greg's place, his mom found a copy of her Recording Angel for me, which discusses the "Symbolic Iconography of Victorian Tombstones."

(I adore Greg's parents, if I haven't said so before. They're exceptionally lovely people and I've been very pleased to have them in my life; so much so that I named characters after them. Keep an eye out in the first few months of 2014 for my novel, Roll, for a guest star appearance from Gloria and Lionel.)

This particular stone, for one Richard Cox, aged 77 includes finger pointing upward - guiding the way to heaven, an obelisk, symbolizing eternity and infinity, and a mourning drape, which were used on doors and lintels to let visitors know there was a death in the family. 

The sea shell, to the left of the stone, is a new life/resurrection symbol, similar to Easter Eggs and tend to be more prevalent in harbor towns. (This cemetery is less than a mile from the Craford Bay/Harbor Park area. Quite a lot of shipping goes on in this town at the mouth of the James River.)

* * * * *

For the next 2 weeks, I'll be bouncing around, doing blog tours and talking about my experiences with death, writing this story, graveyards, ghosts, and whatnot.

(It's possible you may have to sign up to be able to see the Livejournal post; if that's the case, I may cross-post that entry here...)

In either case; I'm giving away from Halloween Swag to celebrate this short story, including several of these soy tarts. I have Whipped Pumpkin and Kettle Corn, both from Raven Hollow Candles.

One lucky reader will win a box of Halloween stuff, and four runners up will get a tart with the book cover!

And here's your Rafflecopter form thingie!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Chris T. Kat!!

So, talking to Chris T. Kat today and the super-hot cover of Hunter's Hunt - which keeps staring at me while I'm typing this up, so I might get distracted. Yeah, go ahead, ask me how a guy with no head is staring at me... no, nevermind, just... wow.

The book cover has knocked my brains loose, so forgive me, and I'll just turn this over to Chris, right? Yeah.... book.... boook.... 

Of your published works, do you have a favorite? Why? 

My favorite is Silver Lining, which is a Bittersweet Dreams story, published by Dreamspinner Press. I wrote this story within a week and it was all I could think of. Writing Silver Lining hurt and I wasn't sure whether I could go through with it but I'd tried to put the idea aside and write something else for months. I got another story written but my mind always went back to Scott and Riley's story until I gave in.

Tell me about your first publication. Who was it with? How did you feel when you got that acceptance?

My first publication was Seizing It, a contemporary m/m romance, and was with Dreamspinner Press. Seizing It was the very first original fiction story I've written. Before that I've solely written fan fiction (lots and lots of fan fiction). When I submitted it I wanted to try but I didn't believe I'd stand a chance, so color me surprised when I received an acceptance e-mail with a contract offer. I stared at the e-mail and contract for hours, told my husband, and simply floated on Cloud Nine for the rest of the week. :)

How much of your life and the people you know end up in your work?

Since I work as a special ed teacher some of my characters deal with a disability because that's what I know a lot about. I love working with children or simply having children around, so there are a couple of books that have kids as an integral part (A Purrfect Match, Attachment Strings).

Many of my books show my love for animals. In Seizing It, Kit loves his big dog Jackson to pieces, in Secret Chemistry there are wolf-shifters as well as wolf-fox shifters, in A Purrfect Match one of the main characters is a cat-shifter and in The Caveman and the Devil the main characters work as zookeepers at the Philadelphia Zoo.

Tell us about a real person who has had a lot of input to your work, someone who inspired you or encouraged you, or even discouraged you and you have to prove them wrong.

There isn't one person who encouraged me. During my fan fiction days lot of people encouraged me to try my hand at writing original fiction. I shied away from it for a long time but they kept going and my husband—rather exasperated—told me to start writing and not be so intimidated by the words “original fiction” and eventually I did. I haven't regretted my decision. As much as I loved writing fan fiction, coming up with my own characters and story lines is even more rewarding and challenging.

What projects are you currently working on? Are you willing to share a small excerpt from a work in progress?

At the moment I'm between projects. The last story I've written is called “Tidal Changes” and features a merman-shifter. I had a blast writing this novella and hope to be able to submit it soon.

Here's a small excerpt:

Rick turned around to go back to the conference room when a sense of foreboding drew his attention to a large pane section at the other end of the corridor. Marty stood close to the window, both hands pressed against it, and his nose could only hover an inch away from it. Rick watched Marty's reflection on the glass, taken aback by the awed expression on Marty's face; like a small child that was seeing something beautiful.

The sounds around him lessened and only a low hum remained audible. It took Rick a few moments to realize the source for the hum—it had to be Marty. Quickly, Rick glanced around, sure other people would be stealing glances Marty's way, but no, no one seemed to register the humming noise.

The sound stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Rick turned his attention back to Marty, who had left his observation point and looked straight at Rick. Neither of them moved, not even a facial muscle, and the silence became unnerving. Marty took a step into his direction and Rick held his breath.

A nurse interrupted their moment when she knocked into Marty, spilling folders everywhere on the floor. Rick limped toward them and reached them when all papers had been stuffed back in the correct order. The little, red-haired nurse apologized profusely before she hurried on, with her face as bright in color as her hair.

Marty straightened up, casting a wary look at Rick. “Hey.”

“Hey. She sure was impressed by your knight in shining armor attitude,” Rick said.

Marty laughed, a sound that inevitably brought a reluctant smile to Rick's face, before he asked in a subdued voice, “There's a flea market on Saturday in Ocean City. I took the liberty of glancing at your schedule and we're both off work, so... would you like to come with me? Have a late breakfast and see how much money we can splash around?”

Rick gazed at Marty for a long time, digesting the information. “As friends? Or as a date? Just so I know whether I should get my hopes up again.”

A faint blush brought color to Marty's cheeks. Softly, he said, “Date. I'm sorry for the cat-and-mouse game.”

Surprised but thrilled all the same, Rick replied, “All right then. Want me to pick you up around nine?”

Marty shook his head. “I'll come to your place around ten. I need my beauty sleep.”

“I'll be starved by that time,” Rick grumbled.

Marty patted Rick's stomach, that, albeit still solid, had more fat to it than it had a couple years ago, and said with a twinkle in his eyes, “You'll survive.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Rick expected Marty to just turn around and stroll away but Marty seemed full of surprises that day. He stepped into Rick's personal space, rose on tiptoes and pecked Rick's cheek before he ambled away, whistling to himself.

What's your writing routine?

I write on the weekends, usually around three to four hours per day. Whenever I'm off work I try to spend the mornings writing. I belong to that group of writers who can't write in the evening, so I have get along with the time I have.

When I don't work I simply go on from where I left the day before but if it's only weekend writing time I read the last chapter on Friday evening to get in the mood again. Otherwise I'll spend the first hour (or more) re-reading and tinkering around and then feeling frustrated because I didn't accomplish anything in my precious writing time. ;-)

What writers or novels do you consider “must reads”?

I'm not sure if I'd consider any author or novel a “must read” but of course I do have favorite books and authors. I love the work of fantasy author David Eddings, especially his Belgariad series. As for the m/m genre: I really enjoy reading the works of Lyn Gala, Josh Lanyon, D.W. Marchwell and Tali Spencer.

Buy links:

Torquere Press
All Romance Ebooks


Wanted: one bear. Must be burly and hairy, and strong enough to paddle. Hunter Bell is on the prowl, and he knows just where to find his prey: at the Bear Trap, a gay leather bar he’s more than a little familiar with. So many men, so little time. He’s just about to pounce on his choice of the evening when a newcomer enters the bar, turning everyone’s head. Adrian Michaels is everything Hunter despises in a man. He’s lean and boyish looking, and he has the deepest dimples Hunter’s ever seen.

And yet there is an immediate attraction, one that neither man can deny. They’re both too astonished to do anything about this apparent interest in one another, and they waste their opportunity. Now it’s up to Hunter to forget about his stereotypical preference and go for the guy that’s just entered his dreams. If only he can admit to himself that Adrian’s what he really wants...


It took a moment for the newcomer to absorb his surroundings and, when he did, he flinched. A few men chuckled upon discovering the baffled look on the guy's face, which proved that he indeed hadn't known about the nature of the Bear's Trap. Hunter watched him shift from one foot to the other while most men turned back and resumed their conversations. The new guy remained rooted to the spot, dripping water all over the floor, before he squared his shoulders and pushed through the mass of bodies. At last he reached the bar, where Hunter was still standing, for some unknown reason interested in this guy.

The newcomer waved at the bartender. "Is there a phone anywhere?"

"You don't have a cell phone?" another guy asked, perplexed.

The newcomer shot him a 'drop-dead' look, startling Hunter into a laugh. The new guy turned toward him with a quizzical look. Hunter was face-to-face with an irritated man, whose dark blue eyes were blazing.

"Bad day?" Hunter heard himself ask.


Hunter pulled his cell phone from his pocket and held it out to him. "You might better go to the back. Otherwise, you won't be able to understand anything."

Baffled, the other man took the phone. "Thank you, uh, what's your name?"

"Hunter." He held out his hand for the other man to shake.

"Last name or first name?"


"Thanks, Hunter. I'm Adrian."

"Hey, Adrian."

Adrian gestured with the phone toward the end of the bar and raised one delicate eyebrow. "This way?"

Hunter nodded and beckoned Adrian to go past him. Adrian only made it a few feet before one of the other men groped him, drawing out a surprised yelp from Adrian. He shoved the guy aside then proceeded farther into the back. On his way, he struggled with advances from more guys than Hunter could count. At some point, Adrian whirled around and, even from that distance Hunter could see the fast heaving of his chest, the free hand balled into a fist, and the stressed look on his face.

With a sigh, Hunter pushed away from the bar and strolled after Adrian. He caught up with him right when another man, a regular customer called Dean, made a pass at him.

"Hey, knock it off. He's with me, Dean."

"With you? Since when are you going for his type, Hunter?" Dean asked with a sneer.

Hunter shrugged while he sent a dark glower toward Dean, which caused the other man to drop his eyes and inspect the contents of his glass thoroughly. Hunter laid a hand on Adrian's shoulder and pushed him ahead. Adrian cast him a worried look but walked where Hunter steered him. After opening a door to a private room at the end, he ushered Adrian through and switched on the light.

"Go ahead."

Adrian clutched the cell phone in his hands, staring at Hunter with an apprehensive look. Hunter noticed that Adrian's eyes were of a dark, almost navy, blue. He swallowed. Even behind the glasses, Adrian's eyes seemed large and expressive. He had to concentrate on listening to Adrian's question. "Is this... is this some kind of leather bar?"

"Yeah. Never been in one before, have you?" Hunter asked.

"No. No offense and all, but I'm not very fond of it."



"Need a bodyguard?"

Adrian eyed him before he obviously came to some kind of decision. "You free for bodyguard duty for maybe an hour?"

"Sure." Hunter grinned. "I won't even try to molest you."