Monday, July 30, 2007
Leaning back in the chair, he pulled his water from his gym bag and took a quick drink. He loved coming to the gym and working out at that high intense pace. Screwing the top back on his water, he sat it on the table and watched the object of his interest finish her stretching, and then stand.
It didn’t go over his head that he wasn’t the only man checking out her sexy body and for some odd reason that bothered him. However, she seemed totally oblivious to him and the other men running their eyes up and down her body. She adjusted her sports bra and picked up her sky blue gym bag off the floor and turned in his direction.
Resting his back against the seat, Zack tried to think of a way to get her into a conversation. He didn’t even know if she would be interested in dating a white man, but he could at least test the waters with a quick hello. He noticed that she was getting closer to him and he quickly coughed to clear his throat. He didn’t want his voice catching while he was trying to impress her.
“Hi,” he said the second she was within hearing range.
She paused in mid-step and started down at him. Her whiskey brown eyes blinked, and then a smile spread across her full mouth. “Hi.” She whispered back in a soft sultry voice and then she continued to the step class behind him.
Turning around in the seat, he noticed how the shorts hugged her well-defined bottom. Yes, there were some definite possibilities there, if he could go by the look he saw in her eyes. The alarm went off on his watch and Zack cursed under his breath, Lee was going to kill him. This was the second time this month he was going to be late for the Drace brother’s weekly Wednesday night dinner.
Zack got up from the chair and snatched his gym bag off the floor. Oh well, he didn’t care because he finally got to speak to the goddess in the white workout outfit. He hoped that she would be back tomorrow. Maybe then, he could introduce himself and see where things could go from there. Whistling, he strolled towards the front entrance and went out with thoughts of her in his mind.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
I hope you'll read it. And when you do, please drop a line at my blog and let me know what you think. I love to hear from readers!!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Phaze, HeatSheet, Force Series
Paul Bentley is a NARC, his estranged wife Kayla is a drug counselor trying to keep others from running afoul of the law. The stress of the job breaks their marriage, but can the passion that remains help Paul and Kayla get back "on again"?
"Kay? I'm lonely."
"Better to be lonely alone." Her lip trembled and she prayed it didn't show in her voice.
"Yeah. Look, I know I agreed to leave you alone. I know there's no going back. You're better off without me dragging you down. But I was thinking, maybe I could come over? We could open a bottle of wine and try and talk again."
"You never dragged me down when you were here. It was losing you and having to see you still here that hurt." Her stomach twisted and she inched lower in the tub, letting the water soothe her wounds.
"I feel like I should take that hurt away, you know? I want to hold you and let you know none of it had anything to do with you. I didn't want any of it to touch you."
"I don't live in a bubble, Paul." She took a deep breath for courage. "You don't want to change. You just don't want to be lonely right now. And on again, off again is not good for either one of us."
"We haven't tried on again. Let me come over. I'll bring a bottle of your favorite wine and you can mess up my head. And then once I get it together we can mess up our bed. It's been way too long, Kayla."
"We can talk on the phone." Her eyes felt heavy, tears threatening. She wanted him, the old him, here in the worst way. But she didn't think she had it in her to tell him to leave again.
The phone clicked in her ear. She called his name a few times before giving up and setting the phone on the ground. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of him, but it was too late. His image loomed in her mind, teasing her.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sunday, July 15, 2007
This month's spotlight author is Alessia Brio! Don't miss her great excerpt and a really cute pic!!!
Please feel free to visit our website:
for more information!
Have a great day~
Essence of Erotica
Sunday, July 08, 2007
UrbanPixie of the Literary Nymphs Blog gave I Heart You 4 Nymphs, and here's what she had to say:
Aurora Black introduces richly complex characters to an undeniably engaging plot in her latest release I Heart You. The dark family histories of the fate swept lovers encourages you to empathize with them while the villain's malice injects an exciting amount fear and suspense. The singe-your-eyebrows sex is nothing to turn away from either... a deliciously thrilling suspense novel from a very talented author. I can't wait to see more of her work in the future.
See the full review HERE
Monday, July 02, 2007
The M/M anthology Phaze Fantasies III is now available! This collection of six tales from Phaze authors is rated 4 Novas, in other words, hot, hot, hot!!! My story is called Heads or Tails.
Here's the setup:
Jeff Roberts' life is all planned out for him. He's engaged to the boss's daughter, and eventually he'll run the construction/real estate company he works for. It'll be the perfect life.
When Kurt Lacey joins the construction crew, Jeff is suddenly fighting urges he'd forced himself to repress. There were male lovers in his past, but deciding that wasn't what he wanted, Jeff proceeded to 'go straight'. Kurt has other ideas, and one night together has Jeff rethinking his life. Does he want to be secure, responsible and boring? Wild, exciting and nontraditional seems like lots more fun. It all comes down to the flip of a coin—and whether Jeff chooses Heads or Tails.
And now, an excerpt:Kurt smiled. "So, I have a question for you. I heard a nasty rumor about you at work."
Jeff was surprised. He got along well with everyone at Birdwell, what kind of rumor could there be? "Really?"
"Yeah." Kurt took another sip and then smiled almost shyly. "I heard you were engaged to the boss's daughter…what's her name, Laura?"
Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. He hated being the subject of gossip, and went out of his way to avoid it. "Lana. Yeah, I am. We got engaged about six months ago."
"Is that so?" Kurt asked thoughtfully and took a long, slow drink.
"Yep. I've worked at Birdwell about three years. She's a year younger, so she graduated from college a year after me. She's been there about two years…" he trailed off. Kurt watched him with amusement as he rambled. "You don't care about all this."
"Sure I do. It's very interesting. Perplexing, too."
"What do you mean?" Jeff took a sip of his beer, suddenly feeling nervous.
Kurt gestured with his hands as he spoke. "See, I pride myself on being a good judge of people. I had you sized up the first time I saw you—or so I thought. Apparently my 'gay-dar' was off track this time."
"Gay-dar?" Jeff repeated slowly, glancing around. For the first time he realized there were other couples in the bar, talking quietly like they were, and all of them were men. They were in a gay bar. "Oh, Jesus." He took another quick drink.
Kurt grinned. "I'm really sorry, man. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just assumed—well, never mind. Then I heard a couple people talking about you and Laura today, and I discovered I might have made a mistake."
"Lana," Jeff said slowly.
"Whatever." Kurt tossed his head back and polished off his beer. "Let's have one more before we hit the road. Two's my limit when I'm driving." He glanced around. "I need something to eat. Where's that popcorn?" There was a bowl farther down the bar, and he stood and reached across Jeff to get it. "Two more beers over here!" he called.
Kurt's thighs and ass were practically in Jeff's face, and he stifled a groan. His cock stiffened for about the tenth time that day. It'd happened once when he thought about Lana, and about nine times thinking of Kurt. He watched the good-looking man settle back onto his stool and grab a handful of popcorn. "I…uh, you weren't completely wrong."
"Hmm?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. They paused as the bartender placed two new bottles of beer before them.
Jeff watched the man walk away before stating, "It's just that—well, I'm not gay." He wanted to make that perfectly clear. Putting the rest of his thoughts into words wasn't as easy. "I've had a couple encounters—with guys, that is—but I'm really straight. I'm marrying Laura. I mean…Lana!" The other man had him totally flustered.
"Is that so?" Kurt appeared thoughtful as he took a pull on his beer. "Really straight, you say? I wonder about that."
Jeff was embarrassed, but had to try and explain. "I had this relationship…in college…but it never felt quite right. I mean, it felt good—" He was flustered again. If his face wasn't beet red before, it had to be now.
Kurt simply looked at him, an amused half-smile on his face.
"Shit. I don't know what I mean anymore." Jeff took a long drink, finishing off his beer. He shoved the bottle aside and reached for the fresh one.
"Don't be embarrassed." Kurt nudged elbows with him. "There's always some awkwardness at the beginning of a new relationship, whether men or women are involved. Personally, I think it's more complicated with women."
"You've dated women?" Jeff was surprised. He figured guys were either gay or straight, and he was the only one sitting on the fence.
Kurt shrugged. "A couple. It's not really my thing. Had to give it a shot, though, to see what I might be missing out on." He chuckled and Jeff laughed.
With another shrug, Kurt added, "Pretty common. Most people struggle with their sexuality at some point. I finally decided to stop struggling. I know what I like, and I go after it." He gave Jeff the once-over with his eyes.
It caused another flush, and he felt the heat not only in his face but also lower. His cock twitched when he saw the look of desire on Kurt's face. His emotions tugged at him. "I wasn't really looking for a new relationship. I was thinking—"
Kurt spun to face him, planting his hands on Jeff's knees. "In the immortal words of some great country singer, 'This ain't no thinkin' thing'."
Surprised, Jeff looked at him. Conflicted emotions raced through him, and all he could think to say was, "Oh, God. You like country music? Could we be any more different?"
Leaning in, Kurt said softly, "We're alike in ways that count. I'm attracted to you, man. I have been since the first time I saw you."
With a muffled groan, Jeff's words rushed forth. "I feel the same way! I couldn't keep from staring out my window, hoping to get a glimpse of you every day."
Kurt smiled and moved his face closer for a kiss. Jeff's mind screamed protest, but remembered they were in a gay bar, and realized it was probably commonplace behavior there. He stopped thinking when Kurt's face drew closer and his eyes closed. His lips pressed against Jeff's and both men sighed.
He parted his lips and Kurt's tongue slid in, exploring new territory. It ran across his teeth before batting against his tongue, wanting to play. Kurt tasted masculine, like beer and popcorn with a hint of something minty, and Jeff groaned with pleasure. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed kissing another man. The rough scrape of the unshaven chin felt heavenly against his softer face, and he raised one hand to cup and caress a cheek.
Kurt pulled back a little and whispered, "Come home with me."
Heads or Tails, in Phaze Fantasies III. Available now, from Phaze .
Book 2 in the River of Time series (book 1 – Lord Carabas)
by James Buchanan
July 2, 2007Work Safe
Buy it: http://www.phaze.com/
Jules LaRousse’s adventures continue in this sequel to Lord Carabas. Every child wants to believe their family can be salvaged. Family secrets, adulterous liaisons and long born grudges threaten to destroy them all. Jules has to use his wits and burgeoning abilities to save himself and his son when he follows Keiko to the seat of her Scottish Clan.
"Come, Père, come." Jean-Paul was leading me by the hand through one of the myriad of passages. My son had insisted upon showing me a secret place this morning. Secret places to children his age could be anything, a recess behind a curtain, an empty cabinet, a hollow at the base of a tree. I loved his secret places. I loved that he wanted to share them with me. We would discuss all sorts of things of import while we hid; why dog's noses were cold, whether angels cried rain drops, and if bees liked the taste of honey as much as he.
I was entertaining him this day as his nurse was otherwise occupied. Really it was an excuse for the other adults who thought it odd I attended my son so much. He'd had a small mishap during the night. Not that it was unusual for a child his age, but still the bed had to be righted. Given everything that had happened recently I couldn't believe it hadn't been happening more often. And I felt for him. I had suffered the embarrassment of that problem long after I should have grown out of it. That may have been due to the fathers' supposed cure for my lack of control. They beat me each and every time it happened.
So we'd taken breakfast together. After a game of hide and seek, in which we'd managed to distress practically every servant in the manse, the floor of my room had become a battle ground for an army of chess men. We must have captured the high ground of the bed half a dozen times before Jean-Paul had wearied of that game. Once we quitted the war he had taken me into his confidence about the secret place. Confederates, you understand, share things like that.
Stopping before a large wooden door, he giggled. What wondrous things his giggles were. Bright, eager eyes looked up at me. With both hands he beckoned and I leaned down close. Conspiring with me he whispered, "It's in there."
I knelt beside him and put my arm around his shoulder, drawing him into my body. "What is in there?" I whispered back as I tickled his belly through his vented doublet. We were conspiring after all.
He brushed my hand away. Tickles were not meant for Chevaliers on such important business as secret places. "A maze." Awe dripped in his voice. I was not sure he knew what a maze was, but he was certainly impressed by the thought of it.
"Really? Shall we see it?" He nodded. "Okay then." I stood and grasped the latch. It was one of those heavy iron pieces, the type that took keys the size of a normal man's cock to lock them. Old and cranky as it was, I had to put most of my weight on the lever before it gave.
A few seconds were wasted while I determined that the door opened outwards instead of into the room. Had I but looked at the hinges…thankfully only my son was there to see that. He'd forgive me most any idiocy. Odd, there were brackets for a bar on this side of the door. Why would someone need to bar an interior door in that manner? My palm itched and I rubbed it against my leg. Iron always affects me so. No matter, old buildings such as this were not built to any plan.
A cavernous, empty, circular hall greeted us. It was a dim place of dancing shadows. Indistinct shapes flitted around the darker recesses. A mosaic of red stone tiles wound in and out of the debris littering the floor. A shame the Laird let a room like this go to waste. I supposed it would be hard to heat. It was chill enough now in the midst of summer. With such little windows, up so high, the only light would have to be brought in by torch or candle. I'd become accustomed to the brighter, airier spaces of La Florida.
"Père," Jean-Paul pulled at my sleeve, "Where is it, where is the maze?"
I went down on one knee and swept away some of the dirt and grime. There'd been a floor like this in the Abbaye where I was raised. "See here, on the floor. The labyrinth should start somewhere here, by the door." I pointed to the paving at our feet. "You follow the pattern. When you are all the way through you should be back where you started."
Only a four-year-old could look that disappointed. There was precious little for him to do in this dismal keep. The rain kept him indoors most days. There were no children of his age to play with. The Tacksmen's sons were all young men and his mother claimed it was unseemly to mingle with the crofters' broods, even when they had time away from their chores. At home he often ran wild with Temecuas boys. Adults just weren't much company.
"No, truly, it is fun." I tried to put some enthusiasm in my voice. Taking him by the hand, "Now don't step off the line," I began to walk the pattern, then I turned and caught him by the waist, "don't fall!" He screeched in delight.
We were halfway across the room when I caught the whiff of something not right. Something evil and wrong slid its unseen hands up the back of my legs. A sickly sweet, charnel house smell rose from the tessellate pavement. The room turned bitterly cold.
Jean-Paul whimpered. He'd caught it, too, the sense that we were where we shouldn't have been. A whisper rose in my mind. Disembodied voices engaged in an indecipherable conversation surrounded me. I swept my son into my arms, crushing him against my chest. No words to understand, but the whispers were hateful. They did not want us here. Frozen in fear I could move neither forward nor back. A movement at the limits of my vision caught my attention.
In the fringes of the grey light the shadow of a skeleton slunk up the wall. The outlines of bony fingers and toes sought holds in the stone. Like a bloated spider crawling along its web it crept out onto the ceiling, clinging to the beams radiating from the center. Jean-Paul hissed, "Père?" and I shushed him. Maybe if we didn't move it wouldn't notice we were here.
When it reached the center of the room the foul thing whitened, solidified. I could see the bones and count its ribs. Hours of moments went by as it dangled by its hands and feet above us. With a hideous shriek, echoed in the screams of Jean-Paul and I, it burst into pieces. First the skull, then the other bits of bones rained down upon us. The ossified downpour vanished as it touched the stone.
Stillness, absolute stillness reigned. My son was too scared to cry. His breath came in dry little hiccups. Putain, I was too scared to cry. Speaking more for my own comfort than his, "Shhh, Jean-Paul, it just wanted to frighten us." I began to back towards the door. My boot heels echoed in the empty hall.
And then something else echoed. The heavy sound of the door as it shut behind us. I swung around. A grinding crunch as a key turned the lock. We were locked in. Someone had locked us in. Mon Dieu! Why?
Two breaths and then a low groaning answered me. The whimpers and whines of starving children echoed unseen. Whispered prayers floated about the room. Moans and coughs and vows of revenge, the last solace of the condemned, slipped about me as eager and as deadly as any viper. The invisible dying host pressed against us, robbing the breath from our lungs. Ailpein's ghost story, it wasn't a story. Mère Marie, it wasn't a story.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
are proud to announce the grand opening of their author's group
You can check out their website at: www.isleofphoenix.com
And the first issue of their newsletter in the files section of the group Infinite Possibilities: http://groups. yahoo.com/group/Infinite_Possibilities/
In the spirit of the grand opening, there is a CONTEST! Whoohoo!