Wednesday, 17 October 2018

The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 21

They stopped for lunch in a little café Owen liked to visit when he was staying with his grandmother. It was cheap and cheerful but had some of the nicest food Owen had ever had in a café. Of course, nothing surpassed his grandmother’s cooking, but this came close. He wasn’t one for fancy food and the general fare of homecooked stews, pies and burgers suited him fine. They also had the best coffee he’d ever tasted outside the city. Aggie wasn’t impressed with coffee and the shit she gave him tasted like it had gone through the intestines of a cow.

Bran couldn’t sit still. Owen had led him to a table at the back of the café where it was quiet and there was space around them to stack their bags. Owen liked to sit here because it was slightly secluded and gave him an opportunity to people-watch. Bran was over-the-top excited by the prospect and bounced every time someone came in making comments way too loudly. Fortunately the comments were always good, but it still took a while and some embarrassment before Bran got the idea that people didn’t really like to be noticed, even when the really cute guy in the corner was waving and telling you the colour of your hair reminds him of flowers and perfectly matches the pattern on the walking stick you’re using, especially when he went on to say that “It’s really amazing that a human this old can walk at all.”

“But it is,” Bran said in a far-too-loud stage whisper when Owen made him sit still and sent an apologetic shrug to the woman who sat down heavily, a confused expression on her face, as if she wasn’t quite sure whether she should be pleased or offended. “Humans don’t live that long, a hundred if they’re lucky and they get… sort of…broken down at the end. Most of them give up after about seventy years and then they die.”

Owen closed his eyes and cringed. He took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s because we get old and die so quickly compared to your…people, we really don’t like being reminded how fragile and we are and definitely don’t like our own mortality shoved in our faces.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t like to be reminded we’re going to die, especially if it’s likely to be sooner rather than later. We also don’t like reminding that our bodies don’t work as well as they used to.”

Bran frowned, considering, then a dark expression crossed his face, draining the joy out of him.

“What’s the matter?” Owen asked, but Bran shook his head. No amount of prompting would get him to speak, so Owen changed tack and distracted him with the menu. Bran perked up and threw himself into an exploration of human food, but he never quite regained his sparkle.

By the end of the day, they had so many bags and boxes it would have been impossible to carry them all home, so Owen called a taxi. Bran chatted to the driver non-stop all the way back. In Owen’s experience the local taxi drivers weren’t a talkative lot, but Bran had a way about him that made people open up and by the time they arrived home they knew all about, Rhys’s family, his financial situation and his slight gambling problem.

“Tell Amy fenugreek is good for menstrual cramps, especially when they’re just starting, and if she adds some lemon to the last rinse when she’s washing her hair, the sun will give her natural highlights. Oh, and tell Mair to keep her feet up. It wouldn’t go amiss if you gave her a foot-rub with lavender oil every night, either.” He helped Owen take the last of the bags out of the car, then turned back with a very serious expression on his face. “Please don’t make any more bets. It only gets worse, never better and even when you’re winning you’re really losing because it’s just sucking you in deeper. There are places in the deep lake where the floor looks pleasant, and pretty plants grow, but if you walk into them they’ll suck you down and you’ll never come out again. Please don’t do that, not with the baby coming. Mair needs you, and Amy needs her dad at home and not out hiding somewhere.”

Owen didn’t hear what the driver said, but he saw him reach out of the window and pull Bran closer. Bran bent and Owen could have sworn the man kissed his forehead. Shaking his head, Owen turned and struggled up the path with bags in his hands, under his arms, and even one in his teeth. He was wondering how he was going to open the door, when it swung back to reveal a grinning Aggie.

“Have a good time, did you?” she said, her voice lighter than Owen had heard for a long time. His grandmother was many things – wise, resourceful, capable and endlessly kind, but one thing she wasn’t – usually – was cheerful, and the first thing that hit Owen when he saw her, framed in the doorway, a bright smile on her face was that he’d never seen her smile so wide or her eyes quite so bright and she looked…younger.

Bran danced past him, just as laden but somehow less burdened, and planted a kiss on Aggie’s cheek then breezed past her. Aggie turned after him, grumbling about so much energy making her feel tired, but he didn’t miss the sweet smile, or the way she raised her hand to touch her cheek. He smiled. Not only was Bran a faery but he was magic.

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

Wednesday Briefs - The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 20

Buying underwear went better than Owen could have hoped. In fact, Bran was entirely uninterested and allowed him to make the choices quickly and unanimously. Bran wandered off and Owen emerged from the socks and underwear isle in a state of slight panic, which didn’t lessen much when he found Bran in the women’s lingerie aisle fingering lace underwear while rubbing his cheek against a fluffy, pink dressing gown. The embarrassment was even more acute as he had an audience of two employees, a couple of teens and a family with a young child who was demanding to be able to do the same, reaching sticky fingers toward a nightdress with bears on.
“Owen, look what I found. This is so pretty. Can I have some. And this is so soft. Do you have one. Please can I have it. If you haven’t got one, you can have one too. They’ve got different colours. Then I can snuggle you, and you can snuggle me.”
Owen’s face flamed. For a moment he considered pretending not to know Bran and walking away, but that was impossible, so he grabbed some of the knickers Bran was stroking and the dressing gown and threw them in the basket.
“Have one too. They’ve got some with little hearts on. Look.”
One of the sales assistants sniggered, and Owen glared at her. She stifled a grin and walked away.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?” the other assistant said, not even trying to hide her smile.
“No thank you,” Owen replied stiffly. “We can manage.”
Slowly, the little crowd dispersed, and Bran noticed Owen’s expression.
“What’s the matter?”
“This is the women’s aisle,” Owen mumbled. “These are women’s clothes.”
“I don’t understand. Are we not allowed to buy them?” He gazed longingly at the red satin panties.
“No, we can but they… It’s just…usually, only women wear them.”
Bran stopped and stared at Owen. “I…see,” he said slowly. “But we can buy them. I can wear them but it will be different to everyone else.”
“Yes,” Owen said, relieved. His relief didn’t last.
“Wonderful,” Bran said. “I think I’ll have some of these in pink, too. What are those?”
They bought seven pairs of assorted lace underwear, two pairs of pyjamas—one with an unicorn on the front, and one with a dancing fairy, which Bran thought was hilarious, two dressing gowns and a pair of high heels, before Owen finally dragged Bran away from the women’s clothes.
They fared better in the men’s aisles, generally. Bran was all about the sense—if it felt good, smelled good, or crinkled when he scrunched it, he wanted to buy it, as he did with anything that was brightly coloured or had pictures on the front.
Owen had chosen quite an upmarket shop, at Aggie’s insistence, and the sales staff became very involved, much to Owen’s chagrin. They seemed to love Bran, though, and Bran basked in the attention. The basket turned to two, then three, then more assistants were called to help carry them. Bran danced through the middle of it all, darting to something that caught his eye and tossing it into the basket carelessly.
“You should try some of these on,” Owen said, trying desperately to halt Bran’s crazy spree. “You won’t know if they fit you properly if you don’t try them on.”
Bran gazed at him thoughtfully then grinned. “You’re right. Can I try the underwear first?”
“You can’t try on underwear,” Owen said. “It’s not allowed.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you don’t buy it, no one else is going to.”
Bran thought about it then nodded sagely. “I see. But I can try the rest?”
“As long as you keep your underwear on.”
“I will,” he sang and disappeared into the changing rooms with a handful of clothes that made him look like a bird of paradise, its wings made up of colourful rags.
When Bran came out of the changing room, Owen completely changed his opinion of the trip so far. It changed abruptly from the worst day of his life to the best, with one outfit.
Bran wore faded jeans, with artful tears across the knees, so tight they could have been painted on. Over the top was a long, black t-shirt with a gold dragon motif and a long, tailored coat with a vintage Victorian vibe in black and grey shot silk. The outfit was finished by a pair of heeled ankle book and Bran’s hair, which he’d pulled free of its band, and hung like a gleaming silver shawl over his shoulder. Owen had never seen anything so beautiful in his life—apart from Bran naked.
“Do you like it?” Bran asked, apparently uncomfortable with Owen’s intense scrutiny. He shuffled his feet looking coy, and Owen melted.
He got to his feet like an automaton and glided across the floor. Taking Bran into his arms, he breathed into his ear, “You’re beautiful.”
“Will you get some, too. Clothes like this. Yours are…” Bran bit his lip.
“Shabby and worn,” Owen said, laughing.
“Okay, I’ll get a few things but I’d rather things that are a little less…formal.”
“Okay, I’ll get not formal things too, he said with a grin. You can choose.”

From that moment, the whole thing was a game, which Owen immersed himself in wholly and it was the most fun he’d had in his life.

Saturday, 6 October 2018

Hostage at Hamony Ink

One of my favourites. Fantasy, sci fi, romance, a revolution, a train, and a vendetta turned to love all because a teenage prince was taken hostage

Buy Link

Astrin Raphael wakes up in a strange place, frightened and confused. He is told to trust someone who seems to hate him, and he tries—he really tries. However, things change rapidly when he discovers his friend is actually his archenemy, Rowan Gabriel, whose abusive behavior stems from a deeply ingrained, if unwarranted, hatred over something that happened many years before, and simply wasn’t Astrin’s fault.

When Rowan's uncle and Astrin's father are kidnapped by Strebo Michael, the two crown princes are catapulted into an adventure that forces them to work together, and along the way their feelings for each other grow. Rowan is quick to let his hate go, but Astrin can’t release his inhibitions. It takes Astrin almost dying from a poisoned dagger before he finally accepts Rowan's love.

When they return home, their problems continue as their Houses try to negotiate a way for the young men to be together. It soon becomes clear at least one of them will need to relinquish his throne.

On Sale Now Fairies at NineStar

Buy Link

All Keiron wants is a quiet life. Fat chance with a boyfriend like Bren. But if he thought Bren complicated his life, that was nothing compared to the complications that begin when he opens the door to what he thinks is a naked boy claiming to be his slave.

Draven is a fairy with his sights set on the handsome human who keeps a wild place in the garden for fairies. When Draven slips through a fairy gate into the city, he sets in motion a series of events that binds him to Keiron forever, and just might be the end of him.

While Draven explores Keiron’s world with wide-eyed wonder, Keiron does everything he can to keep Draven’s at bay, until the only way to save Draven and bring him home is to step into a world that should exist only in children stories.

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Tuesday, 2 October 2018

Wednesday Briefs - The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 19

I know, I know, I keep dropping off the face of the earth. This time, you can blame formatting. It's my nemesis and I'm stressed to the hilt trying to make sense of it. I have realized, however, that not writing is only adding to the stress, so I'm making sure I make time for it. So here we go again with good resolve to be more regular. I really want to tell Owen and Bran's story because it's such an interesting journey. We'll see

“What are you going to do with it?”
“Never you mind. I’ll have it turned to plastic by tomorrow.”
Bran looked alarmed. “It’s not that kind of gold, Lady. It doesn’t transform. Nor for us.”
Aggie smiled kindly at him. “Oh, it transforms, dear, but not in the way you think. Trust me, I’ll see you right.”
“Of course, I trust you. Come husband, lets finish our excellent meal.” He returned to eating with gusto, leaving Owen still staring at the chest.
“There are up sides to dealing with the fair folk,” Aggie said, a smirk in her voice. “At least this lot won’t turn to leaves when the sun goes down.”
Once breakfast was out of the way, Aggie handed Owen a debit card he didn’t know she had.
“Spend what you need,” she said. “I’ll get it back from this.”
“What should I buy?”
“I didn’t think I’d have to tell you that. How should I know what boys need to live these days? Start with clothes, I would think. He can’t be wearing those, he looks ridiculous, and don’t forget who he is. Get nice ones. And one of those things you’re always looking at.”
Owen puzzled for a moment. “My phone?” he ventured.
“Whatever. I’ve never understood why you have to carry computers around in your pocket. A telephone is for making telephone calls. Always was. That’ll do for me. And why would I want to take one with me in my pocket? If I’m out I’m busy and I can’t be doing with people disturbing me with idle chat or to sell me things I don’t want?”
Owen sighed. They’d had this conversation many times.
“Come on,” he said to Bran. “She’ll only keep on about it if we don’t escape now. The twenty-first century seems to have passed her by. No scrap that, I don’t think she’s got into the twentieth yet.”
Bran smiled in that vague way people smile when they haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, and Owen sighed again.
The trip to town was…interesting. Bran was interested in everything. Apparently, he’d flows over the town before, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with its workings, but he was clearly unsettled, if not frightened by the fast pace and loud noise. Owen realized half-way to their goal that he knew nothing about the environment in which Bran lived and hadn’t once thought to ask.
“What’s it like where you live,” he asked as they walked down the main street. Bran was walking so close he kept tripping Owen who’d had to ease him away more then once. He found that holding Bran’s hand helped, but that brought a whole new set of problems, and Owen was almost as uneasy and on edge as Bran.
“Not like this.”
“I suppose it’s quieter.”
“Yes, very much so. The sound here is clearer, but harsher. Everything is brighter and faster and louder. I think it’s going to take quite a time to get used to.”
“I suppose.”
“The worst thing is the smell and the poison in the air. Honestly, I don’t know how you can live in this environment and not get sick. There are places in the river where we don’t swim because of chemicals dumped in the water, and I’ve heard of other places where the poison is so bad it kills everything for miles, or…changes things. Here, the poison is in the air and it can’t be avoided. I don’t understand why you do it, or how you can stand it.”
“I can’t lie, I don’t understand why they do it either. As for why I live in it or how I can stand it, I suppose it’s because I don’t have a choice. This is the way it is everywhere. You’ll get used to it.”
Bran looked fearful. “I don’t think I want to. Can we not live with near the lake, or perhaps in the mountains. I like mountains, although the air makes me dizzy and silly.”
“That, I’d like to see.” Owen smiled at the pictures in his head and squeezed Bran’s hand. “One day soon, I’ll take you, but I have to go back to the city, to university. I have to finish my degree.”
“Because I’ve worked hard to get this far, and I’ll need a degree to get a good job.”
Bran nodded seriously, although he seemed unconvinced.
“What’s a city?”
Owen considered. “Like this, but much bigger.”
Even through his hand, Owen felt the deep shudder that passed through Bran.
“Do I have to live there? Can I not stay here? Or perhaps we can have our own house. You don’t need to go to the city anymore. Not now we have the dowry. We can have our own house wherever we want and we will have enough to but food and anything else we need.”
Owen shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said. “Right now, we need to concentrate on shopping. What do you want to look at first?”
“Everything,” Bran said, his eyes wide.
Owen sighed. “It’s going to be a long day. Come on, let’s find you something to wear that fits you better.”
“That would be nice. Can I have blue ones like that?” Bran pointed across the road, where a boy and girl, both dressed vaguely goth were leaning against the wall outside the pub, smoking. The boy was wearing trousers that appeared to be leather, with inches of bare skin at the sides and plenty of silver chains and buckles.
Owen groaned and shivered at the same time. He yanked Bran’s finger down and hurried him onward, afraid the two teens might take offence at his staring. The image of Bran dressed in those leather trousers lodged itself firmly in his brain.
“I don’t think they’d have them in blue,” he said.

Now, go read the rest of our talented crew. We've got quite a selection this week

Saturday, 22 September 2018

September Newsletter

September newsletter is almost complete and will be out in a few days. There is some exciting news this month, including links to my first audiobooks and an exclusive first peep at the latest book cover in the Upstaged series, as well as general news and complaints.

Don't think I haven't noticed that no one has entered any of my giveaways. There's another chance this month for an extra special giveaway. In case it's not clear, you have to comment HERE on THIS POST to be entered. It doesn't matter what you comment, although interaction would be nice.

Feel free to comment, good or bad, on any of my work - characters, stories, covers etc - or to throw questions at me. I'm pretty affable and very approachable, especially if you bring chocolate.

Thursday, 20 September 2018

NEW RELEASE Boys of Summer by Tucker McCallahan

Lead singer Ash Redvers needs a drummer. When Dustin Davis shows up, ready, willing, and able to play - not to mention gorgeous - Ash thinks it’s going to be the best season yet. But Ash has never had a boyfriend, and Dust isn’t willing to be a quick hook-up. As the summer heats up, they’ll have to decide whether all they can make together is music, or if there’s something more for them after the Boys of Summer are gone.

Today, I am hosting a long-time friend Tucker McCallahan, who wrote the most amazing story about some of my favourite characters ever. As well as being a fantastic author, she is a superb editor and a fabulous person. No, she didn't bribe me to say matter what you might think after reading the next paragraph.

Hi! My name is Tucker McCallahan, and I'm the author of The Boys of Summer, the first book in the Dust & Ash Saga. I'm so grateful to Nephy for hosting me today! If you've already gotten a copy of The Boys of Summer, then you know that Nephy is mentioned in my acknowledgements. The Dust & Ash Saga was workshopped on the Gay Authors website, where Nephy has work posted as well. She did me the supreme honor of commenting on this story while it was being rewritten, and her insight was so accurate sometimes, I got worried that she had a copy of my outline. LOL! In honor of Nephylim, enjoy an excerpt that her input helped to shape. From The Boys of Summer:

Two hours later Jared was pulling his shirt back on when he heard footfalls on the gravel. He turned to see Ash, wide-awake and his usual charming self, striding toward him. 
“Hey, man, place looks good.” 
“Thanks. You meet the new drummer?” 
“Not yet. I saw you guys moving his massive drum kit and beat feet back to bed.” 
Jared’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He crumpled the empty cigarette pack in his hand and threw it at Ash’s head. He missed by a mile. Ash grinned at him. 
“What? No way was I moving all that shit in the hot sun. I needed my beauty sleep.” 
“Lazy ass.” 
“So what?” 
“His name is Dustin. He has more bathroom junk than you do.” 
Ash stared at Jared for a minute, slightly nonplussed. “Uh, okay.” 
“I put him in Arden’s room, but there’s no bed in there except that mattress from—” 
“Ugh, that’s nasty.” Ash made a face. “Okay. As soon as he’s done, uh, doing whatever it is he’s in there doing, we’ll go buy a new bed.” 
“Cool. He seems like a nice guy. Kinda quiet.” 
“He looked like a Marilyn Manson reject, but honestly, as long as he can play the drums, I don’t really care.” 
“Well, hopefully I’ll improve your opinion of me over the course of the summer.” 
The voice was deep and sultry. Ash instantly thought of Jim Morrison from the Doors growling “Break On Through” or crooning “Love Her Madly.” Ash hoped he wasn’t blushing as he turned around, but when he saw the vision of total fucking hotness on his front porch, he gave up. Ash’s face went as red as a chili pepper. 
Dustin was a towhead, that uncanny, natural white-blond that some males were blessed with at birth and never escape with age. Even Dustin’s eyebrows and eyelashes were white, and of course, the very first thing that went through Ash’s filthy mind was that Dustin’s pubic hair would be that same wonderful white-blond too. That thought, and the accompanying mental image, gave Ash a raging hard-on. Fuck. 
Aside from the gorgeous color, Dustin’s hair was cut in a skater’s asymmetrical shag, longer on top than it was in the back, and he used some kind of styling gunk to stand it up into an artful pile of spikes. His eyes were toffee brown and positively danced with mischief as he stood on the porch in tight, skinny jeans, an Affliction hoodie, and Chuck Taylor All-Stars. Yup. Ash was hard as granite. 
“Well, goddamn!” Jared said with feeling. “Where’s the little punk I helped with the drums a few hours ago?” 
Dustin laughed and jumped off the porch. He landed in a graceful crouch, standing to stretch like a cat, which made his clothing ride up and showed off a sweet little six-pack, complete with a pierced navel. 
Oh motherfucking hell. Ash was going to have to go inside and adjust. He contemplated the physical tightness of Dustin’s jeans and cocked his head, trying to decide if the hard-bodied little drummer wore boxers, briefs, or—groan—nothing at all. 
“I washed him off. You’re stuck with me.” 
Ash stared, filled with simple but intense desire. Everything about Dustin turned Ash on fiercely, right down to the multiple piercings in Dustin’s ears. 
Jared laughed and looked sideways at Ash, who was unusually quiet. “Uh, Dustin, this is Ash, our singer. Ash, Dustin.” 
Dustin’s gaze devoured Ash from the top down. The singer and leader of the Boys of Summer had skin the color of teak, a tawny dark brown that gleamed in the golden sunshine. Dustin had to put effort into not straight-up ogling the guy, because Ash looked like a hero from some romance cover, complete with long, windswept black hair, fiery dark eyes, and oh-so-kissable lips. 
“You look like a lead singer. Tall, gorgeous, pretty eyes…. Can you actually sing too?” 
Ash’s mouth went bone-dry and his heart pounded like a bongo. Had he heard that right? Did Dustin just call him gorgeous? Ash mumbled something unintelligible. 
Jared stared at him. “Ground control to Ash, you okay over there?” 
Ash looked at Jared, slightly panicked. He could hardly admit to macking on their new drummer in front of the guy. Plus, there was the whole bit about being told he was gorgeous by somebody he wanted to knock down and fuck senseless on the front porch. What was he supposed to say? Tell Jared he was fine except for the massive erection that was currently preventing any blood from getting to his brain and causing a huge case of stupid? Oh yeah, that would go over great. 
Ash managed a vague sort of nod and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the ground, but it didn’t work. They kept flipping up to gaze at their new drummer. 
Ash jerked his head toward his SUV. “Guess I’ll drive,” he mumbled. 
They were all headed in that direction when Jared’s cell phone rang. Ash’s Sketchers crunching on the gravel didn’t quite mask his growl as he glared at Jared’s retreating back and the phone plastered to his ear. 
“Hey, I can sleep on the floor, if getting a bed is a problem.” Dustin’s concern was audible in his voice. “Or if the money’s the issue, a futon would be—” 
Ash’s beleaguered brain finally clicked on and he turned his attention back to Dustin. “No. No problem. Sorry, man. I just got done with a killer semester. If I space out, or just kind of stare off or something, smack me. It’s totally posttraumatic stress.” 
“If you say so.” 
Ash furrowed his brows as he glared at Jared, still talking on his phone. Damn it, Ash needed a wingman here. He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and cocked his head, pivoting on his heel before dancing from foot to foot as if music played somewhere. 
Dustin smiled, watching him. Ash’s hair swung around his shoulders as he came to a stop, facing Dustin once again as Jared finally came toward them with an apologetic look on his face. 
“Sorry, guys, I gotta bail on the bed trip. I have to go see a… a friend.” 
“Dealing during daylight hours?” Ash quipped. 
“Damn.” Jared made a face, his voice taking on a very serious tone. “I suggest you tell Dustin that you’re merely attempting to be amusing, because everybody in our band knows that I have no sense of humor whatsoever about being referred to as something so onerous as a purveyor of narcotics.” 
Ash abruptly stopped dancing about, straightened up, and nodded. “Right dude, sorry. So… you gotta go?” 
“Yeah. That was Tracy.” 
“Oh,” Ash said, surprised. “I didn’t know you guys were talking again.” 
“On and off.” 
“I didn’t know she’d finally gotten a divorce.” 
“She hasn’t.” 
Ash cringed. “Jared, man….” 
“Stay out of it, Ash.” 
“Yeah, okay. Just… be careful.” 
“Have fun buying junior there a bed. Don’t embarrass him too badly.” 
“No worries.” 
Jared jogged off to his ancient Bug, leaving Ash and Dust alone. As they drove out toward the shopping mall on the edge of the county line, a comfortable silence filled the SUV. They used the time to size each other up, taking the first leg of the journey for some thorough studying. 
Dustin decided Ash was simply the best-looking man he’d ever laid eyes on. From his long black hair with its natural red highlights, to his rangy hard body that seemed full of childish, happy energy, the lead singer of the Boys of Summer was completely gorgeous. And firmly in his closet, Dustin was sure, which was a problem
Ash, on the other hand, decided he was getting laid tonight. He was going to take a man home, alone, for the very first time. No girls allowed this time. He didn’t want anything distracting him from the unbelievable bounty that was Dustin the drummer. Ash had Plans (with a capital P) for this boy, and the more he thought about it, the more excited he got. Why the hell hadn’t he ever done something like this before? 
“So… thought about what kind of bed you want?” Ash asked. 
Dustin cocked his head and frowned. “The kind you sleep on?” 
“Smartass. I meant, like, a queen, a king, a firm mattress, a soft mattress? You ever try one of those Tempur-Pedic beds?” 
Dustin stared at him with his mouth hanging open. It was kind of cute. Ash wanted to lean over and suck on Dustin’s lower lip, which probably meant he was going to have a car accident if he didn’t stop thinking with his dick and pay attention to the road. 
“What are you, like, the Jacques Cousteau of beds?” 
“We spend a third of our lives asleep, Dust. It okay if I call you Dust?” 
“Sure, I don’t care,” Dustin said, shrugging. 
Ash beamed at him. “I happen to like sleeping, so I have a thing for comfortable beds.” 
“Okay.” Dustin slowly nodded. “What kind of bed do you have?” 
“At the farmhouse?” 
“I have a king-sized double pillow-top that I roll a two-inch layer of memory foam over. It’s not ideal, but it does the job for the summer.” 
“What’s ideal?” Now Dustin was interested, because thinking about how serious Ash was about his bed was kind of hot. 
“The house I live in up in Pittsburgh? I have a California King up there, one of those Sleep Number jobs with separate adjustment areas on each side. It’s on a custom-built spring platform, and it’s fucking amazing. I sleep like a baby every night, even if I’m not wrapped in flesh.” 
“Excuse me?” Dustin choked. 
“Yeah, uh, I don’t like to sleep alone. It’s kind of a fetish. You’d have found out anyway, living with me. It’s not so much a sex thing as a skin thing. I just sleep better if I’ve got skin on either side of me.” 
Dustin stared at him and decided to jump in with both feet and see where he landed. 
“Well hell, Ash. Why are we wasting money on a bed? Why don’t I just sleep in your room?” 
Ash’s heart pounded, and he chose his speech carefully. “Uh, as much as I… appreciate… your offer, you’ll find out pretty quick that our band is really popular. Most of the guys pick up bed-warmers, whether they have sex or not.” At the look on Dustin’s face, Ash’s words spilled out. “I’m not making any assumptions, Dust. What you do is your business. I’m just saying, I don’t doubt you’ll have plenty of offers for—” 
But Dustin interrupted him with the one thing Ash totally didn’t expect to hear. At least, not that way. “I’m gay, Ash. I really don’t think I’m gonna be picking up anybody at a wedding and bringing them home for sex.” 
Ash swung the SUV into the furniture outlet and shut the engine off. He pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to look at Dustin, who sat quietly, staring at him, obviously waiting for Ash’s reaction. 
“Just so you know, I haven’t had any problems picking guys up at weddings for sex. Hell, I ended up with the groom once.” Ash’s face flushed as Dustin’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “And no, I’m not telling that story. Falling Banks may be a small town, but they aren’t stuck in the dark ages. There are gay couples. There’s even a gay bar.” 
“So you expect me to discover the pleasures of hooking up with small-town gay guys?” Dustin’s voice had a hard, sarcastic edge Ash really didn’t like. 
“That’s not what I said.” Ash looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m just saying, if you’re, uh, out, then you should have your own space.” 
Dustin sat back, a contemplative look on his face as he eyed Ash. “I take it, despite your hookups and the fact that you ooze metrosexual all over the place, you’re not out.” 
Ash flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, but decided it was probably better to have this conversation now. He stuck the keys back in the ignition, started the engine, and flipped the air-conditioning on so they’d have both some air—and some cover—then leaned back and turned to his sexy new bandmate. “No, I’m not. Not down here. Up at school it’s another story, but here at home? No. Jared knows because he lives with me and has seen who I bring home, but since I know he’s a fucking drug dealer, we keep our mouths shut about each other’s business.” 
“You mind telling me why? I mean, no offense, but I knew the minute I saw you.” 
“Knew what?” 
“You’re gay.” 
“I’m not gay.” 
“Yeah, okay, dude, whatever.” With a tired sigh, Dustin completely disengaged from the conversation and turned away from Ash to get out of the truck. God, this guy was so far in the closet, he couldn’t even see the door! 
Ash reached over and grabbed Dustin’s arm before he could open the door. Strange electricity arced between them, pulling a gasp from Ash and stiffening Dustin’s spine. Reacting on instinct, Ash yanked, and Dust bounced across the seat like he’d been shot from a cannon right into Ash’s lap. 
Dustin slapped one hand against Ash’s chest to stop the singer from hauling him any closer, and it only made things worse. Unbelievable heat arced up Dustin’s hand into his arm, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth. 
Ash couldn’t think; he hummed with need. He wrapped his fingers around Dustin’s upper arms. Dustin shoved both of his hands into Ash’s chest with a sexy little growl. Their eyes locked, and the wrestling went from a surprised struggle to something downright erotic. 
“Thought you said you weren’t gay,” Dustin said, a little breathless. 
“I’m not,” Ash growled, straining closer. “I’m bi.” 
“Thought you said you weren’t out.” Dustin’s arms trembled and started to weaken. God, Ash smelled good, and he was so pretty…. 
“I’m not!” Four more inches. Just four more fucking inches, and Ash could devour that mouth. 
“You kiss me in the front seat of your truck in broad daylight while they load that sofa, and you will be,” Dustin breathed. Ash whipped his head around. Four men from the furniture store were loading a large sectional sofa into a 4x4 about twenty yards away. Ash immediately let go of Dustin, but couldn’t help raking his eyes over him again. 
Dustin felt the heat of Ash’s gaze and knew he had scant seconds before Ash decided he didn’t care about having an audience. Dust had to stop this now; he just met this guy. 
“Look, Ash, I don’t want there to be any problems between us, and I don’t want to cause any problems with the band.” Dustin scooted back over into the passenger seat. He tugged his hoodie down, and only then did Ash realize Dustin’s shirt had ridden up over his abs. 
Ash bit the inside of cheek to hold back the whimper. “I’m not usually this—” Ash didn’t know how to say it. “Fuck.” He’d never wanted a guy like he wanted Dustin, but if he said that, it sounded stupid and purely physical—which, well, maybe it was. Damn. 
Dustin watched the thoughts flicker across Ash’s face as clearly as if he’d sung them. Dustin had never met a man with a more expressive face. A bolt of lust stronger than anything Dustin had felt in a year struck and left him smoldering. Dustin’s chest seized with actual pain as he recognized the feeling and squashed it flat. He couldn’t afford to take any chances. He was in Falling Banks to play the drums, not find a boyfriend. He took a slow, deep breath to ease the ache in the center of his chest and gazed at Ash. 
“Look, I felt it too, okay? There’s definitely some kind of crazy attraction between us, but I’m shambling here. I played an all-nighter last night, and we still need to buy a bed. Then, if you don’t mind, I need to get something to eat—something, you know, real. Not fast food. Energy drinks stop working after you’ve been using them for a few days, so—” 
“Dude, when did you sleep last?” 
Dustin rubbed his beautiful toffee-colored eyes and offered Ash an exhausted smile. “What day is it?” 
“I am so sorry.” Ash turned the SUV back off and pocketed his keys. “Let’s pick out a bed. I gotta drop your contract and tax forms off at my parents’ house, but we can grab food after that. I promise not to make a run on your virtue until you can appreciate it.” 
Ash’s wink was downright lewd. Dustin took a deep breath and climbed out of the SUV. He followed the tall, sexy singer into the large furniture depot and tried to focus on the rectangles made for sleeping.

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. The Boys of Summer is the first book in the Dust & Ash Saga and is available now on Amazon and Smashwords.

The second book is scheduled to come out in the spring; there are six books in all. To celebrate the first release in the saga, I'm sponsoring a giveaway! There are three ways to enter: like my author page on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, or – if you're already following me on FB and Twitter – leave me a comment about your favorite music to listen to at a wedding reception. I'll be giving away three gift cards, and the winners will get to choose what they'd like to receive!

Winners will be announced on my blog on
September 30th.   

Once again, I'd like to thank Nephy for hosting me and the Boys today. Turn on some music and enjoy the end of your summer!

About Tucker McCallahan:

Tucker McCallahan has been lots of places, seen lots of things, and is still learning new stuff on the regular. Multi-published, bisexual, polyamorous, and slave to a big black cat named Emperor Inka, Tucker is also married, a parent, a long-time member of the LGBT community and a proud educator/activist

eXtasy Party!!

Come along to the eXtasy party on Friday, Saturday and Sunday this week!!

The party will be held at the eXtasy facebook group The Book Carousel and I'm not sure but you might have to join the group to take part. It's worth it though because it's a great little group with lots of information, offers and lively interaction.

There will be fun, games, giveaways, and general feel-good-ery.

I will be there as much as I can, and have a slot on Sunday for my own fun and games, and for any questions and comments you might have. So come along and give me hell.

And if that wasn't enough to get your pulses racing, eXtasy is having a sale

Friday, 31 August 2018

For You I Fall by T N Nova and Colette Davison


Book Title: For You I Fall

Series: Angels & Misfits Book 1

Author: T.N. Nova & Colette Davison

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Editor: A.C. Minx

Genre/s: MM, Paranormal, Gay Romance

Length: 78 000 words/ 239 pages

It’s the first of the series but can be read as a standalone story.

**Contains explicit language and scenes**


Sometimes you must fall before you can fly free.

Despite having had a rough life, Seth has a big heart. After spending nearly ten years sleeping rough on the streets of New York, he’s managed to get himself freelance work and a place to live. But his new-found security is about to be torn apart, as the horrors of his past come back to haunt him in the worst possible way.

Dante was sent to watch over a young Seth when his mother died. As an angel, he had many rules to follow. The most important of which was to never fall in love—especially when it involves a human who is your charge. For the last ten years, Dante has kept his feelings for Seth hidden. That is until the night Seth’s past catches up with him.

When Seth is murdered, their destinies are changed forever. Feelings and emotions come to the surface, but will the rules that govern the afterlife keep Dante and Seth apart for eternity, or will they be able to find their happily ever after together?

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited


Seth kept the last cup of coffee, now barely lukewarm, for the man who always sat alone, distant from the rest. There was something about him that mesmerized Seth in a way he couldn’t describe. It was probably the man’s eyes, which were a vivid shade of blue that pierced even the darkest night. He sat on the same bench every night, huddled in a tatty black trench coat.

“Seth.” Blue Eyes nodded his thanks as he wrapped his hands around the cup Seth handed to him.

“It’s not very warm, I’m afraid.”

Blue Eyes shrugged, never taking his gaze off Seth as he sipped the coffee. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in waves, framing his handsome face. His olive skin tone made him appear healthier than the rest, although Seth was reasonably sure that was deceptive. A short beard and mustache helped further define his broad chin and sculpted cheekbones. Seth thought to ask his name, but couldn’t convince the question to leave his lips.

He was always like that around Blue Eyes: tongue-tied and awkward. The man was incredibly gorgeous, and Seth couldn’t help but be physically attracted to him. Maybe in another lifetime, under very different circumstances, he would have the confidence to ask Blue Eyes more about himself; discover the mysteries sparkling in the depths of his eyes. But things were what they were and showing interest in the man was wholly inappropriate. So, instead of asking Blue Eyes his name, he uttered a goodbye and turned to go.

About the Authors

T.N. Nova

T.N. Nova, Terri to her husband and Blazing Zane to her daughter, is the author of contemporary and paranormal gay romance. She's lived in the desert southwest all of her adult life, most recently in Phoenix.

Her guilty pleasures are Minecraft, music, geeky stuff, diet Dr. Pepper, and all things Thor and Loki. She's addicted, so now you know how to bribe her.

Colette Davison

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairy tale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.

Social Media Links

T.N. Nova

Colette Davison


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