Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Wednesday Briefs - Catherine's Revenge Ch 3

Here we are again at a Wednesday. Today, it is the day before Halloween, or Samhain as it's called by Pagans all over the world. Our trimmings are up and we are prepared for the ritual tomorrow night. Tonight we are going to be staying at a hotel in Cardiff as a Half-Term treat for my son, and tomorrow we're having a fun day before we come home for our ritual and party. It's a bright spark in what's been a difficult time. I'm still not feeling up to the mark but much better so I'm looking forward to our treat. In the meantime I offer a treat for my readers - the latest chapter in Catherine's revenge, my spooky story written in honour of all things scary.

This week I chose this prompt

Emma’s headlong dash brought her to the edge of a sparkling lake. She scanned the banks for any sign of her brother. There were none. Away to one side, the sun glinted off a building that seemed to be made of glass. The summerhouse.  Without hesitation, she sped toward it, determined to save Ash from whatever fate awaited him there.

A set of rickety steps led to a veranda which circled the building. In places, they had fallen through and Emma clung to the rail, keeping as close to the edge as she could.  At the top of the steps a set of ornate wooden doors stood ajar.  Emma squeezed through into the dimness beyond.

The interior was a real shock.  The summerhouse was completely circular and lined floor to ceiling with mirrors.  Some of them were cracked, which lent a strange fractured feel to and already eerie room.  At the centre of the domed ceiling, a massive chandelier hung, suspended, and the wooden floor was scattered with shards of crystal which had fallen over the years.

Off to one side, a long white sideboard, faced with gold held a simple wooden box.  The lid was open, and tinkling music rose from it, flying around the room, sharp as shards of falling crystal.

The only colour anywhere was the red t-shirt Ash wore. He was standing in the middle of the room staring into a mirror.  Emma wondered why he’d taken off his jacket, when it was so cold their breath caused clouds of steam to billow from their mouths.

“Ash, what are you doing?”

He didn’t respond in any way.

“What’s wrong?  What are you looking at?”

Ash ignored her, as if she wasn’t there.  At first, Emma was annoyed, believing he was playing with her, but she quickly began to grow afraid.  She crossed the floor, her feet crunching on broken crystal.  Cobwebs brushed her face and she screamed when faced with a huge spider on a silken thread that seemed to dare her to pass.

Shivering, Emma carefully circumvented the spider, and interposed herself between Ash and the mirror. But he wasn’t looking at the mirror, he wasn’t looking at anything.  Emma shuddered at the expression on his face.  It was empty, completely devoid of emotion, even awareness.

“Ash?  Are you alright?”  He was entirely blank, his wide eyes, identical to her own, fixed and staring, the pupils tiny dots in a sea of cornflower blue.

“Ash.  What are you doing?  Stop messing about.”

The tinkle of the music box jarred her nerves and she strode across the room to slam the lid.  A sigh behind her made her whirl in time to see Ash fall to his knees. Emma ran to him and flung herself onto her knees.  She was afraid to touch him, afraid to speak.


He raised his head and stared at her, his eyes confused.

“Emma?  What are you doing here?  Where did that woman go?”  He looked around.  “What am I doing on the floor?”

“What woman?”

“The woman in the white dress.  She was dancing.”  Ash frowned, looking even more confused.

“There was no one else here, Ash. I would have seen her.”

“But she was here.  I saw her.  I came in and she was dancing, right here, in the middle of the room.  There was music, and she was dancing.  Twirling and spinning.  She was beautiful.  I watched her for ages, until the music stopped. She came to me and held out her hands and then we were dancing and everything was spinning.  But there was no music… and she said there needs to be music and sent me to open the box,  and I did and… and I… and then… and then you were here.”

“What happened to your jacket?”  Emma reached out and touched him  “For God’s sake Ash, you’re freezing.  You’ll catch your death.  What have you done with your jacket?”

“I don’t know.  I… don’t remember.  I had it… and then… and then… I didn’t.”

Stiffly, he got to his feet and looked around.  There was no sign of his jacket.  He walked over to the music box and ran his hands over the polished wood.

“Don’t open it, Ash.”

“Why not?”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder.  The life was back in his eyes and they were twinkling with mischief.

“I don’t know but please don’t.  I don’t like it. There is something really spooky about it.”

“Spooky?  A box?  Strange, I can’t remember what tune it played.”

“Ash. No.”

Before she could stop him, Ash opened the lid of the box and the twinkling music started again.  Ash went very still.”


There was no response.

“Oh no, not again.”

She ran to close the box but, as she reached for the lid Ash caught her hand and, with surprising strength, he pulled her in his arms and began to dance.  They whirled around the room, faster and faster and the harder she struggled, the tighter he held her and the faster he spun her.  The glass sparkled and glittered, mesmerising her.

“Ash, please stop.  Please let go, you’re hurting me.”

She may as well have talked to the mirrors.  He was aware of nothing but the music and the need to dance.  Looking over his shoulder, Emma saw a flash of white in the mirror, growing bigger, and she panicked.

Suddenly Emma remembered Tristan’s warning.  “Don’t try to fight on your own” The memory was reassuring but useless.  How could she not fight alone? There was only her.  No, not just her; there was Ash.  Perhaps he might not be himself, but he was another person, another part of her.

Concentrating, with every ounce of her being, Emma began to throw her body into the dance, gradually directing the course of their spinning toward the sideboard and the box.  It was a race against time as, all the while, the white blur grew larger and clearer and closer.

And now go visit and be scared by the rest of this week's spooky storytellers

Have a great Halloween / Samhain everyone

Monday, 28 October 2013

The Harvest - Taken by M A Church


In the year 2050, humanity finds out they are indeed not alone.

Massive space ships appear without warning above the capital cities of all major nations. The planet Tah'Nar is dying. Chemical warfare has reduced the once-intersexed warrior race to sterility. They need fresh DNA in order to reproduce and have an idea for a harvesting program... and so they turn to Earth.

Earth governments negotiate a lottery, and Dale Michael assumes he's safe since he's under the Harvest age limit. How wrong he is. He's illegally harvested and claimed by Tah'Narian starship captain Keyno Shou. 

From the moment Keyno sees Dale, he knows he must claim the spirited human male for his own. What he doesn’t expect is a spitfire with a mind of his own—and a deadly disease that will require a risky procedure to cure.

Hey everyone! My name is M.A. Church and I’d like to introduce you to the Tah’Narians, a novel about an alien species that took me over a year to write. Keyno, one of the main characters, is a spaceship captain. Dale, my human, will be the one Keyno takes as his mate. Sounds simple, right? Oh, believe me, this love story is anything but simple.

I’m going to let Dale and Keyno tell you their story. I think they can do it better than I can. J
* * * *

Dale: Well hey, everyone. My name is Dale Michaels, and I was harvested illegally by my loving mate.
Keyno: Dammit, Dale… Gods, nothing like just jumping right into the middle of it.
Dale: Oh by the way, I guess you could say “Dammit, Dale” is my nickname. Keyno tends to say it a lot.
Keyno: Huh, I wonder why.
Dale: *snort* We’re so not going there. Anyway, back to what I was saying. In a nutshell, the Tah’Narians came to Earth, told its leaders they needed DNA, and set up a program to basically ‘harvest’ males as mates. A lotto was set up and numbers were drawn. I wasn’t supposed to be part of the harvest; I was under the age limit that had been set. But it seems my mate had other ideas.
Keyno:*cringe* I’ve told you why I did what I did, why we do what we do. And you know my feelings on this. I wish…
Dale: *reaches over and pats Keyno* I know, babe. I can’t help it if it took me a while to understand. What your kind did was wrong. *slashes hand through air* I know your species was dying. I get that, and get how that would make a race desperate. But keep in mind, you guys brought it on yourselves.
Keyno: We did. Attacking the Onfre was the stupidest thing the old king of our race ever did. We paid horribly and dragged many other species into our troubles.
Dale: Yes, you guys did. The people out there need to know you guys aren’t as bad as you first seem. They’ll see. But, this harvest was different. Things happened that changed history. Out of your offer to help the Onfre captain, you met Captain Ti of the Onfre. Look what came form that… all the things that came from that.
Keyno: True. *laugh* And Colt. Don’t forget Colt.
Dale: Believe me, that’s hard to do. He’s… something else, and still makes my hair stand on end.  But Colt wasn’t the only person to be changed by what the Tah’Narians did. I found Chad again, met John… A whole race learned the true meaning of peace too.
Keyno: All I did was offer Ti help when he was attacked. You, my chosen, offered friendship with a simple meal. You, my mate, made the difference and still are. You are my world and I love you.
Dale: *rubs Keyno’s pointed ear* You overgrown alley cat, I love you too, even if I did want to tie your tail in knots in the beginning.


Once our meal was over we returned to our cabin so I could study more. Keyno had reports he needed to read. I didn’t want to think how… homey this was. I settled on the couch and pulled the gadget on. Half way through the hour session, I pulled it off and rubbed my eyes.

Keyno looked up from the small desk. A hologram image was in front of him. He waved his hand and the image disappeared. “What’s wrong? You’re pale.”

“My head’s hurting, and I’m slightly nauseous.” I patted my belly, trying to settle the grumbling down. “Is that a common side effect of this thing?”

“No. No one has ever complained about that before.” Keyno frowned at me. “Maybe I should call our Chief Medical Officer, Tanlor Kere.”

I opened my mouth to tell him not to worry about it when I was seized by a horrible stomach cramp. The pain in my head worsened, blindsiding me. “Keyno? Ah, shit, I feel like I’m going to—”

“Gods, you’re green, Dale. Hold on.” Keyno hurried around the desk and helped me to the bed. He wet a washcloth, and the coolness did help settle my stomach some. Keyno buzzed their doctor, and seconds later he arrived with a portakit.

“Hello, Dale. I’m Doc. Remember meeting me earlier while you ate? I’m going to look you over and see what the problem is. All right? I won’t hurt you.”

I did remember him. “Hey, Doc.” I lay on the bed, being very still. The less I moved, the better.

He ran tests on me, his face carefully blank. Finally, he injected me with something to help with the pain. With a warm smile, he stepped away and motioned Keyno to follow him. Keyno and Doc stood outside the door, talking for several minutes before Keyno returned. Swear to God, were all doctors the same?

Moments later, Keyno returned to the bedside. “Tanlor—whom we call Doc— requested that you stay in bed for the next twenty-four hours. What he injected you with will stop the pain and nausea soon.”

“What’s going on?” I whimpered as the pain stabbed at me again and then slowly faded.

“Do you remember the conversation that you had with Chad earlier?” Keyno sighed. “Remember when he told you that you were injected with our DNA?”

“Yeah,” I moaned as a bolt of nausea swept through me. “How did you know what we talked about?”

“I asked him to speak to you about certain things that you needed to know.” Keyno gently settled on the bed.

“Am I having a reaction?” I gritted my teeth as my stomach cramped up again. When the hell was that stuff going to take effect?

No!” Keyno gasped loudly. “No, you’re fine. This just wasn’t expected to happen quite so fast.”

“What wasn’t expected to happen so fast?” I was now more worried about why he was avoiding giving me a straight answer.

Author bio:

M.A. Church lives in the southern United States and spent many years in the elementary education sector. She is married to her high school sweetheart and they have two children. Her hobbies are gardening, walking, attending flea markets, watching professional football, racing, and spending time with her family on the lake.

But her most beloved hobby is reading. From an early age, she can remember hunting for books at the library. Later nonhuman and science fiction genres captured her attention and drew her into the worlds the authors had created. But always at the back of her mind was the thought that one day, when the kids were older and she had more time, she would write a book.

By sheer chance she stumbled across a gay male romance story on the web and was hooked. A new world opened up and she fell in love. Thus the journey started. When not writing or researching, she enjoys reading the latest erotic and mainstream romance novels.

My links:
Twitter @nomoretears00

Saturday, 26 October 2013

I Hear Voices in my Head - Julie Lynn Hayes

I hear voices in my head.

No, I’m not daft or certifiable—at least no more than any other writer, I think. The voices that I hear are not the kind that tell me to do strange things or incite me to desperate acts, rather they belong to my characters, both those I know and those I’ve yet to meet. And I’ve learned something in over forty years of writing—when they speak, I listen!

Carrying paper and pencil or pen is wonderful advice for those moments when your characters begin to speak and you want to capture them for posterity. It’s all well and good to say oh, I’ll remember that, no problem, until  you’re sitting in front of your computer screen and your fingers are in place upon the keyboard and suddenly you’ve forgotten every single word you were sure you’d remember forever. As they talk, you should write, that much is just a given.

But sometimes you aren’t in a position to write—for example, while you’re driving, or when you’re showering (bathing isn’t quite so bad, at least you can take the paper and pen into the bathroom and write while you soak), or even when you’re having sex. So what do you do? If it’s just one line, you can keep repeating it to yourself until you’re in a position to write it down, and that can work. But what if it’s more than that?

I have a little trick for those moments. At least it works for me. I get a mental picture of the emotions involved, and capture them visually, imprinting them with the words, almost like a hot key. So that when I’m ready, I “press” the key, and then it comes out where I can capture it. If I let the character ramble before I’m ready, I find that I lose the words. But if I imprint them in this way, then they stay there, waiting for me to access them.

For example, a couple of years ago my daughter and I went to see Inception at the theatre, the Leonardo di Caprio film. I wasn’t even sure at first that I wanted to see it, but she did so I agreed to go. Before we went, I got to thinking about Leo and other films that I’ve seen him in over the years, including Total Eclipse (Leo and David Thewlis – totally hot! Kissing and nakedness, very delicious!), and I heard a voice speak to me.

“Did you know that Leonardo di Caprio is a vampire?”

Sounds like an odd beginning or introduction even for a character. But I thought what the heck, let’s listen. I realized that this was a new character, so I kept the line in my head, all through Inception. Afterwards, I worked on the story, as I drove home. First, I needed character names. In Inception, Cillian Murphy plays a guy named Robert Fisher. He’s an important character, and his name stuck in my head, but I reversed it and changed it slightly. So Robert Fisher became Fisher Roberts. One character down, now for number two (I already knew this would be m/m, so I needed another male name). As I was driving, I scanned everything around me—billboards, businesses, vehicles, whatever—for the mate to Fisher Roberts. I saw an ad for hunting, and suddenly I had it—Hunter, who became Hunter Long.  It wasn’t til long after I began to write that I saw what I had inadvertently done – Fisher and Hunter. It might seem contrived to some, but I swear to you it was totally accidental.

I knew nothing about these two guys, but I began to write, using that first line, and I kept writing until some 35k later, I was done.  Or at least I thought it was. After a brief stint with a publisher who shall remain nameless, I received Leo back into my own hands and then I took the original story and added 5k to it, in the form of Hunter’s POV, and then I sold it to Torquere. And now we have a happy ending, as well as a new cover and more depth to the story of Hunter and Fisher.

This isn’t the only time this has happened to me, far from it. There once was a time when I was researching a non-fiction book, a children’s book about composer Percy Granger, when a voice began to speak, and he told me he was a gay werewolf. I could feel that he was a nice man, so I politely told him to please wait til I was done with the other book.  But he kept talking, so to appease him I thought I would just write down a few notes and hold onto them until I was ready. Those few notes became the first chapter of To The Max. 
Which became an entire book. And which now has a sequel. All because a voice wanted to be heard. Oh, that other book never got written yet. Guess Percy needs to speak louder, eh?

Another time, it was Judas Iscariot that spoke, and that book became Revelations (for which I’m still seeking a publisher). Sometimes I only get to the first chapter, and then it sits as a WIP until I get back to it. But at least it’s a start.

I hate to think about all of the characters that I have lost or forgotten because I wasn’t able to keep their words in my head. Perhaps they’ll come back again someday, but I’m not holding my breath. That goes for the books I’ve written in my dreams, but forget the moment I wake up. Since I started using my little mnemonic trick, I haven’t lost a thing, and that’s a good feeling. I just hope my readers agree that it was worth it!

Do your characters talk to you? Do you have any tricks you use for getting your characters down onto paper?  I’d love to hear about it!  Thanks for having me, Nephy! Have a great day, everyone!

NEPHY - Oh hell yeah, my characters talk to me all the time. Sometimes they drive me nuts, but I love them all. Someone once said it must be good to constantly have your head full of beautiful, damaged boys. Oh hell yes, especially when I'm torturing them and they're utterly helpless :)


Halloween is the night when the veil between the worlds grows thin... Not that Fisher Roberts believes in Halloween or any other holiday. Unlike his roommate and longtime best friend, Hunter Long. The trouble is that Fisher’s feelings for Hunter are more than that of a friend, and it’s getting harder and harder to hide those feelings from Hunter.

Fisher has promised Hunter to attend a Halloween party with him on All Hallow’s eve, even though he’d really rather not. Things start out badly and then take a decided turn for the strange. Hunter confesses to being a vampire. Not that Fisher believes that, of course—that’s just Hunter’s strange sense of humor. But the kiss in the park... what’s that about? And at the Halloween party from Hell, nothing and no one are what they seem to be... Halloween madness or something more?


Fisher trembled, an expectant trembling, as if he were waiting for something to happen. He didn't have to wait long. Suddenly those beautiful lips were touching his, and then they were kissing, truly kissing. No, it wasn't Fisher's first kiss, but it was his first with a man. His only kiss with a man. And he was amazed at what a difference there was between this kiss and the others. Not because of gender, but because it was with Hunter. Because Hunter was someone special.

He felt himself giving in to those lips, melting into that touch, with a heat that penetrated his entire body, vibrating in its intensity. Now Hunter was nibbling at his lips, soft tender kisses that shook him to his very foundation. His head was reeling, and he was on the verge of losing all sense of self when he felt the first raindrops splash upon his upturned face.

What the hell. He pulled back at this sudden insertion of reality into a very unreal scene, his mouth forming a large "O" of amazement, his eyes going into saucer-plate mode. But even as he did, Hunter moved forward, sliding his hips until their knees were touching. From this position, luckily, they couldn't get much closer, or Hunter would realize what else he had raised beside's Fisher's blood pressure.

He was going to do it again. Fisher just knew it, he could feel it, and oh God how badly he wanted it, as he felt a whimper rise in his throat, indicating a neediness he wasn't aware he even possessed. But the drops were turning thicker now, more of them, and they were brutally cold. A definite shock to the system. His brain was screaming to him to get out, get out now.

Even though this was what he wanted, exactly what he wanted. So what was the problem? What did he think would happen if he gave in to his feelings? He didn’t know. He was afraid of things that he couldn't even explain to himself.

He practically threw himself backward from the picnic table in his haste to get away, landing on the hard ground that would soon be turning to mud if this downpour kept up. A steady rain it was now, and lightning crackled angrily above their heads.

"Fisher?" Hunter rose hastily, reaching for him. So Fisher did the only logical thing he could do -- he gained his feet and ran, as hard and as fast as he could. He hated himself with every step that he took -- and he knew he had never loved Hunter Long more.

Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. 

She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all.  Her published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books. She has also begun to self-publish and is an editor at MuseitUp.  

You can find her on her blog at, and you can contact her at



My Publishers:

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Picked at the Peak - Cia Nordwell

Welcome to the kick-off stop of my blog hops this week for my latest eBook, Picked at the Peak! I have to send out my eternal thank you’s to Nephy. She’s been an invaluable friend to me from the first chapter I ever let her see, the very first ever that I shared in fact!

I have a few fun posts, various excerpts from the eBook, and along the way you get a chance to win copies of Picked at the Peak. If you know me, at all, you’ll know how much I love to read and I like helping others get eBooks they enjoy too. When I first started writing Picked at the Peak, I wasn’t so sure about it. I feel really close to Aislin, the main character, but could I share who he was, and his journey, well enough to make the reader live his life with him?

To get to know Aislin’s little quips and quirks, I asked him a few questions.

So, tell me a bit about yourself.

I like alcohol. No, seriously, I really enjoy it. I grew up drinking with family, the whole huge, loud Irish thing is so not a myth. My dad owns a bar. When I first started getting into brewing, I used his regulars as my guinea pigs. Eventually I bought a winery, expanded it, and opened up a brewery on the grounds so I could expand my line of microbrews.

The biggest benefit of opening my winery? It’s outside of the city, and away from my family.

Ouch. Sounds like there’s some friction there. What’s your family like?

Loud. Did I say loud? Cause yeah, L.O.U.D. I love my parents, but my mom could teach guilt to the Catholics. Dad’s pretty quiet. I have a ton of cousins who are all popping out the kids like machines, and have been for years. They all try to protect and baby me, which pisses me off. I have issues, but so does everyone.

What kind of issues?

I hate explaining this, but the crutch sort of gives it away, right? I screwed up one of my legs as a teen, and now it’s a big pain in the ass. Sometimes literally. Technically it’s called peripheral neuropathy due to nerve damage… for me, it’s a lot of pain on a daily basis. I deal. I have no choice, really.

So, how’s that work with your business?

Just fine. I can do anything I need to on my own, sometimes I just do things differently than a person with two good legs might.

Since we’re going so personal… what’s on secret you never want anyone to find out?

What, like I’m going to tell you that? That’s exactly how people find out!

Do you want to be written in with a bulbous nose and cross-eyed squint?

Okay, okay, jeez. No need to threaten. I like guys in tights, okay?

Tights? Like, figure skaters?

No! Like … superheroes. I don’t tell anyone though, so you can’t either!

*Coughs* Sure, yeah. All right, let’s end this with a doozy. What do you want?

What do I want… that’s a lot. I want to be successful, and I want to be a dad. I really want to have someone in my life that doesn’t see the crutch, or the brace, or the limp… I want them to look up at me and know I can be their whole world, if they need me to be. That’s why I want to be a parent. Kids have that ability to see past the surface. I don’t date, because this crap gets in the way, but I could be a good dad.

Oh, and I really want you not to write me with a bulbous nose or a cross-eyed squint.

LOL. Okay, yeah, the voices in my head… sometimes snarky, sometimes profound, sometimes downright humorous. I hope that you guys think the same of the story, as well. Check out this synopsis and excerpt below, and then do me a favor. Comment. That’s all you have to do to be entered in a contest to win a free eBook copy TODAY! You have until the clock strikes…

Okay, nuh uh, I’m not gonna be that technical. Today is Sunday, you have from now until I announce the winner tomorrow morning my time to enter. (I live in the Pacific Northwest of the US.) Obviously once I announce the winner the contest is closed, so enter early. If you’re a twitter follower, let me know under what name, and I’ll give you an extra entry! Do NOT forget your email. I can’t contact you as the winner if I don’t have it.


Aislin was surrounded by his extensive, but close-knit, family his whole life. He was the younger brother or the cousin they needed to protect and the kid’s favorite uncle, but he was never just Aislin. His overbearing family rarely listened to him, so sure they knew best. His adult years had all been about proving that the accident that damaged his leg as a teenager didn’t limit him.

He started a microbrewery business, bought a winery and decided to have... a baby.

The news shocked his family and friends, but he was determined to be a single parent. Not that Aislin wouldn’t love to have a partner, but dating never really worked out for him. It didn’t matter if he was gay, or single, or had a handicap. He was more than prepared.

He was not expecting the drastic change the next nine months would wreak on his life.


"How exactly does a gay man get pregnant?" Conn asked as the room fell silent.

Teague smirked. "Yeah, was it the old-fashioned way, insert slot A into slot B? Who’s the baby daddy? Are you going to start showing soon?" His wife smacked him on the arm. "Ow."

"Don't be vulgar." Karen sat on the arm of his chair. She gave him a warning look. "Let Aislin talk."

Aislin sighed. "I am not pregnant, you idiots." He glared at his cousin and his brother. "A woman is having the baby, not me." Teague’s raised eyebrow and open mouth made him hold up his hand. “And no, I didn’t get her pregnant the old-fashioned way either.”

"A woman?" His cousin Nora was sitting next to him. She'd just finished feeding her daughter Anna and was trying to burp the fussy baby. She frowned at him. "Is she someone we know?"

"No, she's not a friend of mine or anything. Here, let me." He took the squirming infant and set her against his shoulder. He gave her a few strong pats on her back and then ran his fingers up her spine. Her little back arched, and she burped. He rubbed her silky hair, kissing the side of her head before handing her back to her mom.

"Thanks. You've always been good with the kids," Nora said. “How exactly is a woman having a baby for you? Why haven’t we heard anything about this before?"

Aislin looked around the living room. His entire family had come together in his house for Thanksgiving, and as big as it was, the living room was still packed with his family including all his aunts, uncles, and cousins. The older kids were all running around upstairs except for his brother's twin toddlers who were sitting in a playpen in the corner and the baby in Nora’s arms.

His little announcement had stopped everyone's conversations, and they were all staring at him. Most of the guys had taken up the chairs and seats near the TV to watch football, and the women were discussing their game plan to hit the early Black Friday sales. His father had muted the TV as soon as Aislin dropped his little conversation bomb though, and they had all turned to stare at him.

Aislin scanned the faces nearest to him, his brother and cousins. "Look, between the eight of you there are twenty two kids under the age of fifteen in this house. I love each and every one of them, and it’s great being Uncle Aislin, but I've always wanted to be a dad. It felt like now was the right time."

He hesitated to look at his mom. A lot of Aislin’s fear of telling his family hinged on how his mother would react. Would she think he was doing the wrong thing to have a baby? His dad might have been the one to lay down the law when he and Teague had gotten in trouble while growing up, but they'd both would’ve preferred facing his wrath than their mother's disappointment. Sorcha Kavanagh could be a very scary woman.

Another of his cousins moved over and sat down on the couch on the other side of him and patted his knee. 
"Well, I'm happy for you," Carlyn said.

He winced and pulled away. After most of the family dinners the women would surround him on the couch. He got to play with the babies, whom he enjoyed, but sometimes they forgot how sensitive his bad leg was. He pulled his forearm crutch up and leaned it against the couch next to his thigh to create a barrier.

"Thanks." He finally glanced at his mother but her face was still a blank canvas, her emotions hidden as she listened to him answer all the questions coming his way. He bit his lip. When was she going to say something?

Roisin cleared her throat. "Not that we aren't all happy for you, but what exactly brought this desire on to have kids now?" His aunt was sitting next to his mother on a love seat in the corner by the playpen where they could coo over the twins.

Aislin looked at baby Anna, her body seemingly boneless now that she was sated, as she snuggled innocently in Nora’s arms. He reached out to touch one finger to her petal soft cheek. "Well, Nora and Luke had just had Anna. I was visiting them in the hospital, and I kept thinking that I wanted that.”

The desire had been so strong he’d had to leave and find a quiet place to think. The hospital atrium had a small fountain he’d sat at many times before while waiting for a niece or nephew to make their way into the world. He’d sat there for an hour before a dad had walked over with a little boy and coaxed him to throw in a coin. He wished, in a sweet voice, for his new baby brother to be born that week while a very pregnant, and exhausted looking, mom stood waiting for them. He’d known right then, as he watched the man pick up and laugh with his son, that he wasn’t willing to wait anymore. Aislin sighed. “I wanted a baby of my own. I wanted to be able to take home a beautiful miracle and be a daddy. So I decided to look into my options."

His dad cleared his throat. "So what exactly did you mean when you said that you're having a baby? Are you adopting this woman’s child?"

"No." He looked over at his dad who sat with his arms crossed over his chest. "I found a surrogate. She is actually having my baby. I didn't really expect it all to happen so fast. She got pregnant on our first try. We found out three weeks ago that it worked."

His fingers pinched the crease on his dress pants. It was all still so surreal. He’d expected the process to take longer even though he'd been planning every step along the way. He’d learned that his baby would come at its own pace, regardless of his own expectations. "So, according to the doctor, sometime late next July or early August, my son or daughter will be born."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Aislin wasn't fooled by the soft tone in his mother's voice. He sucked in a quick breath and let it out with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know, Mom. I wasn't sure of how it would all work, and by the time I'd talked to a lawyer, found a surrogate, and we started the whole process I couldn't help but feel like it was sort of private. How was I supposed to tell you that I was going to a clinic to have my sperm inserted into a strange woman so we could hopefully make a baby?" A blush washed over him and he felt his face heat just saying that.

Teague snickered, and Karen smacked him.

“Intrauterine insemination isn’t any more successful than the average traditional attempts to make a baby. I thought I had a few months to figure out how to tell you. I just,” he shrugged one shoulder, “I wanted to do that part on my own.”

A look of hurt crossed over her face.

With his large family, privacy was in short supply. After his accident when he was sixteen most of his family members tended to be a little smothering in their desire to make sure he was okay. Their behavior made him fight for his independence even more after he recovered and eventually led to him moving farther away from the family than anyone else.

He had to hope his mother would understand. If he could only explain the way he felt, the anxiety and fear the IUI wouldn’t work, or his worry that somehow his disability would prevent him from becoming a dad. "I didn't do it to hurt anyone. I only waited three weeks to tell the family that the baby was actually a reality until now because I wanted to have everyone all together for Thanksgiving. Sometimes I can't really believe that it's actually happening still and," he hesitated, "I wasn't sure how everyone would react."

His mother spoke carefully, "Did you think that we wouldn't welcome your child just as much as your brother's and your cousins’ babies?"

Aislin blinked. "No, of course not!" The thought had never crossed his mind. He knew that his parents wouldn't treat any child he had differently from their other grand kids, and neither would anyone else in the family. "I don't know if I could explain why I wanted to do this on my own. I only had enough money for two tries with a surrogate, but I didn't expect it to really happen the first time. I didn't want to get everyone's hopes up if it didn't work, maybe, but I didn't mean to hurt anyone. When it did, I wanted to wait to make sure nothing went wrong."

Teague cleared his throat. "How are you going to do everything on your own? Kids aren't exactly easy to take care of." He glanced at Aislin's crutch.

That argument Aislin was prepared for. "I managed to keep Tasha and Sammy overnight didn't I? We were perfectly fine on our own. I'm pretty sure I can handle one baby."

"You did," said Teague's wife Karen. "But there is a big difference from babysitting to having a baby dependent on you twenty-four hours a day."

"And each of you made that leap with help from the family," Aislin pointed out, "and so will I. Look, I know better than any of you what my limitations are. I would never have considered having a baby if I didn't think I could take care of him or her. Yes, I have a bad leg, and I need a crutch to walk.” He didn’t mention the pain he lived with or how much he could ache at the end of the day. Pain was a fact of life for him and wasn’t going to change, but he wasn’t going to let that reality dictate his life.

“I’m not really fast. I have a bad leg and use a crutch but I still have a free arm. Besides, they have those little baby hammock things. I'm sure I can use one of those if I need to carry more stuff than I can handle, or I’ll make extra trips.” Aislin’s throat burned as he tried to explain to them how he was feeling. “I'm already half in love with the baby just knowing that he or she is a reality, and it’s only been a few weeks. In nine months they’ll be in my arms, and I'd really like to know that my family is happy for me."

He looked at his parents, holding his breath. His father had uncrossed his arms, and his mother was wiping a tear off her cheek.

They had to know how important this was to him.

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Friday, 18 October 2013

Sharing Nicely. New Release by Victoria Blisse

I was caught by the beautiful cover of this new book by my Blissed out friend. Of course I had to hop on the blog-waggon and sing some praises.


Two hot, sexy billionaires know what they want and they want her, but will they be happy to share nicely?

Kerry Matthews is used to stress—she runs her own high-end London club called Diamonds, but what she isn’t used to is attention from two very persuasive and powerful men.

Darren Bennett and Greg Stamford are life-long rivals, but call a truce to spend one night with sassy, curvy Kerry. They’re not content to share forever though. They both have a selfish desire to possess her completely.

Darren buys her seductive lingerie, flowers and chocolates, Greg flies her to Paris for a romantic break, cleans her flat and makes her breakfast in bed. Both vying to cement their place in her heart. She needs to decide between them but is dazzled by their persuasive personas and extravagant gifts.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of MFM Ménage and some violence.


“So, are you two ready?” he asked. “I’ll get Chester to bring the limo round.”

“We can go in mine,” Darren snapped.

“Oh, don’t start this again.” I shook my head. “Decide nicely or I’ll be getting the damn Tube home.”
If the billionaires could be so abrupt with me, I’d be snappy with them.

“Fine,” Darren shrugged, “but we’re going back to my hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

While the boys argued amongst themselves I took the date book and locked it away in my desk. I’d filled up a lot of the year and some dates had drifted into the next one. With the business I’d secured I was guaranteed to finish the fiscal year pleasantly in profit. I might even be able to afford a holiday. If I could persuade myself to stay away from Diamonds long enough.

When I walked back over to them the boys were silent.

“So, are we actually ready now?”

Greg reacted first, slipping his arm into mine and smiling.

“Yes, it seems me and Darren are staying at the same hotel.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled, intensely relieved. “Lead the way.”

Darren took hold of my other arm and we strode out together. I wasn’t expecting the barrage of flashing lights and yelled questions that greeted us. I supposed I had been a little naïve. The boys, with the aid of some huge security guards, pushed past the demands and we scooted into the back of a shiny black limousine. The mellow scent of leather filled the interior. Everything sparkled. I felt like we were in a separate car to the driver who was way, way down at the front.

“Are we going to the hotel, sir?” a polite voice asked. It sounded like it came from behind me, which was puzzling until I realised there was some kind of intercom device. Greg reached to the side of the limo and pressed a button.

“Yes, please, Chester.”

I would have liked more space to actually enjoy the ride home but I was crowded by two competing men and so spent my time flipping my gaze from one to the other, answering questions. Both were squeezed up close to me and both seemed determined to seduce me. I found that mind-spinningly crazy.

“What perfume are you wearing?” Darren ducked his head to sniff at my neck. I was very aware of his lips hovering just above my pulse point. I wished he’d kiss me there.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something fruity.” My mind went completely blank.

“You smell good enough to eat.” Darren continued and his lips did touch my skin but only for the briefest second. My whole body tightened at the gentle kiss.

“Your dress is beautiful.” It seemed Greg was not to be outdone—in fact he boldly ran his hand down my body from my shoulder, over my breast and lower. “I love the feel of velvet.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked then cleared my throat. “Thanks, I love velvet too.”

Tension zinged through me, sexual and otherwise. These two guys who I’d only just met were making me into a battlefield. They were warring to control me.

I wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being mollycoddled. I took decisions, I dived into situations and I expected all of my staff to be respectful to both men and women. I’d reprimanded several for sexism and would go as far as to sack someone if they didn’t change their ways. I should have been appalled by the situation—I wasn’t just a trophy or a business contract. I should have kicked up a fuss and left then and there.

But I didn’t. I liked being the centre of attention. I liked being the prize they both wanted.

I waited for the next move but we pulled up outside the hotel so I had to wait until we exited the car. Again, both men linked arms with me. It was cold outside but apart from the cool breeze on my cheeks I barely felt it because their hard bodies protected me from the elements.

They whisked me across the marble frontage, past the liveried doorman and into a huge reception area. It glittered with prestige and marble. Everything was perfect, neat and tidy. There was nothing overly ornate or showy but you could tell by the purposeful minimalism that this was a very classy place. The kind of place I’d only ever imagined visiting.

We moved across the hall into the bar. Again it was big, shiny but understated. The bar was long and all the staff behind it were in immaculately cut uniforms. They all looked smart and tidy and I looked on with envy. I wished I could get my own staff to look so impressive.

“What would you like to drink?” Darren asked and smirked at Greg.

“I’d love a glass of water, really,” I replied, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get them to send over some water too, but should we have some champagne? It was a very good night for us all after all.”

Both Darren and Greg had won awards and I was sure they’d both made several deals too as they played the room.

“Yes, why not?” Greg answered before me. “Champagne sounds good.”

When Darren moved away Greg turned to me.

“Look, Kerry, I really would love to spend the night with you but it is killing me to be nice to him.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Exactly.” He almost smiled. I found it surprisingly endearing. “Please can we dump the other guy?”

“No.” I was very firm, it surprised even me. “No, I said I wanted to spend time with you both, so that is what’s going to happen. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“God, woman. You’re infuriatingly stubborn.” He growled.

“Now that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” I laughed.

Greg sighed. “I’m not used to being told what to do, Kerry. I’m the one in control.”

“I’d noticed, but if you want me, you play by my rules.” It was fun playing him at his own game.

“Oh, I want you.” His growl turned to a gravelly purr. It wasn’t cute, it was the noise of a killer beast merely at rest. Any moment he could pounce and rip me apart. It turned me on. I wriggled in my seat and my damp knickers chafed against my plump lips.

“Then you’ll share nicely.” I leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked, almost as much as I was. His lips were hard and ungiving for a moment—I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far—but then they melted, opened and pushed back and I felt his pent-up arousal running into me. I released my frustrated desire with every move of my lips.

We pulled apart and I had to pant to regain my breath while he licked his lips like he was savouring the taste.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. I was intoxicated with the power of having him under my control.

“Hey, I want one too.” Darren came back, placed a glass of water before me and pressed his lips to mine. His were plump and giving. He prodded his tongue between my lips, into my mouth, taking control of the kiss and control of me. I felt like I might explode into a million pieces. I hadn’t been kissed in months and now I’d had two smoking hot smooches in as many minutes from two very hot but very different men.

“Okay,” I gasped when he pulled away, “now you’re even.”

The guys glowered at each other. I looked around the room to calm my nerves. Not a single person looked at us. Obviously such things happened often in bars of high-class hotels. It didn’t happen often to me. At all, in fact. I wondered if I was dreaming. I pinched my thigh below the table. It hurt. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.

A tall, skinny waiter brought us a bottle of champagne stood in a silver ice bucket. Balanced on his tray were three tall flutes. He transferred everything to our table with great pomp. I was in awe of his skill.

“Thank you,” I called. He nodded his head politely and walked off.

I knew a little about wine and champagne, only because my barman told me what I needed to order. The champagne in the bucket was clearly expensive—I’d never even heard of the name—and it was suitably French, obviously. I was sure Darren had ordered the most expensive in the place just to outdo Greg. I outdid both of them by just sipping at my water.

“Shall we take the rest of the bottle to my room?”

I nearly choked when I heard what Greg had said.


“Well, you wanted us to share nicely and I don’t think that even in an establishment like this where confidentiality is taken seriously we could share you, nicely or otherwise, right here in the bar.”

It took a moment to register that Greg Stamford, billionaire high-flyer and serious hottie, was propositioning me for a threesome. I’d agreed to it earlier, but it still seemed too much like a fairy tale to be actually real.

“I agree, mate. We’d get chucked out. Want to go to my room? It’s the Ambassador Suite.” Darren announced this like I should be impressed. Maybe it was the most expensive room in the hotel? I wasn’t sure.

“My room has the best view over the city,” Greg snapped.

“Yes, that’s what they tell people who can’t get in the Ambassador Suite.”

“Boys, stop it.” My voice was quite loud. The low murmur of conversation stopped for a moment, then carried on.

“Look. You are both very rich, I get it. You both want to be top dog, I get that too, but would you stop bickering like bloody schoolboys, okay? I am very flattered, truly, and I never in a million years would have imagined being in this situation…” I left the sentence hanging and gathered my thoughts.

“Please don’t say no.” Darren’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I tried to continue with my tirade. I had the moral high ground. I was going to say thanks but no thanks and leave both gentleman hanging, but say that I hoped they’d both still honour their bookings. I was going to make a stand, I really was. Then… Well, I’m not quite sure what happened.

“I’m sorry too,” Greg added. “We’re just billionaires used to getting our own way. Let’s go to the Ambassador Suite, it’s a lovely room.”

Had I heard that right? Had Greg Stamford apologised and ceded to his most hated rival?

“Yes, let’s,” Darren nodded. “Please, Kerry?”

I challenge any woman alive to not cave in when hit with not one but two sets of puppy dog eyes from intensely handsome men. I couldn’t do it.

“Come on then,” I whispered, “lead the way.”


Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. 

She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of 
Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB's Resident "Naked Chef") and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook , Twitter  and Pinterest

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