A Heart Divided by J.M. Snyder

Now Available from JMS Books LLC!

A Heart Divided
by J.M. Snyder

GENRE: Gay Fiction • Historical • Romance
LENGTH: 41,542 words

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BLURB:
Confederate Lieutenant Anderson Blanks has grown weary of the War Between the States. He is all too aware of the tenuous thread that ties him to this earth -- as he writes a letter home to his sister, he realizes he may be among the dead by the time she receives the missive. His melancholy mood is shared by other soldiers in the campsite; in the cool Virginia night, the pickets claim to hear ghosts in the woods, and their own talk spooks them.

Andy knows the "ghost" is nothing more than a wounded soldier left on the battlefield, dying in the darkness. With compassion, Andy takes the picket's lantern and canteen in the hopes of easing the soldier's pain. After a tense confrontation with the soldier, Andy is shocked to discover none other than Samuel Talley, a young man Andy's father had chased from their plantation when the romantic relationship between the two boys came to light. The last time the two had seen each other, Sam had been heading west to seek his fortune, and had promised to send for Andy when he could.

Then the war broke out, and Andy had enlisted in the Confederate Army to help ease the financial burden at home. Apparently Sam had similar ideas -- he now wears the blue coat of a Union solider.

Sam is severely wounded and infection has begun to set in. Andy can't sneak him into his own camp for treatment because all Union soldiers are taken prisoner. But Andy's Confederate uniform prevents him from seeking help from the nearby Union camp, as well. It's up to Andy to tend his lover's wound and get Sam the help he needs before it's too late ... and before Andy's compatriots discover Sam's presence.

EXCERPT:
"I brought you water," Andy offered. Despite the stranger's harsh words, he felt a sudden kinship with this man, unseen beyond the circle of light cast by his lamp. They were just two soldiers, without rank, two souls somehow alive on a battlefield littered with dead.

"Water?" the soldier asked, as if he had never heard the word before. The surprise turned to suspicion. "Why?"

"I thought you were dying." Even though the stranger couldn't see him, Andy shrugged. "I don't know. My men heard you singing and thought you were a ghost out here, come to steal their souls for the devil." The stranger laughed again, and Andy smiled at the sound. "I came because if it were me, I'd want you to come. I'd want someone to find me and sit with me a bit, 'til I go."

"I ain't going nowhere," the soldier said softly, and Andy heard the faint clatter of metal as the rifle was set aside. "Water?"

Andy unshouldered his own rifle and set it down on the ground beside the lamp to show the soldier he was unarmed, as well. Then he shook the canteen, more than half full, and the water sounded like a promise as it sloshed around inside the container. "Water," he affirmed. "I can toss it to you --"

"You can bring it," the soldier replied. "I'm ... there's a bullet in my thigh. I don't cotton the thought of dragging through the dead to find the canteen if you miss."

With slow, deliberate movements, Andy picked up the lamp again and stepped closer. In the flickering glow he saw the soldier appear like a ghost, a faint outline propped against a fallen log, taking shape and definition as he approached. He saw pants dark with blood from a ragged hole high on one leg, and he held the canteen out as an offering of peace.

When he wasn't shot as he approached, he came closer, and knelt by the man's side.

The soldier took the offered canteen with a sigh. "I'm so damn thirsty," he whispered, uncorking the container.

Andy frowned as the stranger gulped down the water. The lamplight fell short of the man's face, but Andy could see the dark coat he wore, marking him as a Union soldier. Hardly more than a boy, he corrected, taking in the smooth hands and thin wrists that held the canteen tight. "I thought you a rebel," he said as the soldier drank. "You sound Southern."

The soldier laughed. "Most men I know would kill you for that comment alone, water or not."

"Then I'm glad you're not most men." Andy sank to his knees beside the soldier, the damp ground seeping through his weathered breeches. "You say you aren't dying?"

"Who are you?" the soldier asked abruptly, ignoring his question. "I can't see your face."

"Lieutenant Anderson Blanks, of the Fifth Regiment out of Biloxi." He felt a cold hand grip his as the soldier caught his breath. "What is it? What --"

"Andy."

The word was nothing more than a sigh, barely heard over the breeze, but it rang through Andy like the peal of a church bell, echoing through his heart and his blood. My God, it can't be. It's the night and the weariness and the memories haunting me, nothing more. Sweet Lord Jesus above, don't do this to me, don't You dare ...

But his name in that voice, one he'd heard in dreams every night for the past three years, since the day he had watched the train carrying his lover disappear into the west. "Sam?" he breathed. "Sam Talley? Christ above, is it really you?"

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V: The V in Valor by J.M. Snyder

Now Available from JMS Books LLC!

V: The V in Valor
by J.M. Snyder

GENRE: Contemporary • Erotica • Fantasy • Gay Fiction
LENGTH: 13,886 words

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BLURB:
Book 1 in the Vic and Matt: V Series

The sudden appearance of superpowers might transform most mild-mannered men into egomaniacs with visions of grandeur. Fortunately, Vic Braunson isn’t most men. His powers come from his lover, Matt diLorenzo, and Vic refuses to let the abilities control or change him.

But even he can’t stop the powers from enhancing who he is.

The V in Valor is the first in a series of five stories exploring different aspects of Vic’s personality that are brought out by his superpowers. When one of the landlady’s cats gets loose, Matt broaches the subject of getting a pet with his lover. Vic doesn’t want the added responsibility, but the discussion raises questions of long-term commitment that neither man is ready to address just yet.

EXCERPT:
After breakfast, Matt cleared away the plates while Vic fought a silent battle of wills with the cat, who stretched out across the open newspaper, making it impossible to turn the page. Vic tried anyway, covering the cat with the sheet of newsprint, but he hadn't begun to read the story on the other side when the cat began chewing at the paper. "Get off my table," Vic admonished, slapping the table near the cat's tail.

The cat stared at him, unperturbed, then resumed washing itself.

Matt laughed as he sidled up to Vic's chair. "Is the big, bad kitty cat bothering you?" he teased, easing an arm around Vic's shoulders in a half-hug.

"The big, bad kitty cat's going to find his furry ass dumped on the floor in a minute," Vic growled.

The cat ignored his threat and sat up a little to begin licking its belly. One graceful hind leg rose in the air, and the faint slurping sounds the cat made as it cleaned itself sounded gross. But when Vic made a move to pick up the cat, its muffled purr turned to a low growl that ended in a hiss seconds before Vic pulled his hands back.

With a look of resignation at his lover, Vic asked Matt, "See what you started?"

"Leave it alone," Matt said, tugging on Vic's robe. "We were heading back to bed, weren't we? Unless you have something else in mind. The shower, perhaps? Or hey, how about here?"

His hand rubbed down the front of Vic's chest to fist around the knotted tie that held his robe together. Deft fingers worked the fabric free, then delved beneath the flannel panels to tickle over Vic's muscled belly. Vic sat back in the chair as Matt's hand danced across his stomach and chest, tweaking one nipple when his finger caught on the hoop pierced through it. Leaning against his lover, Vic wrapped an arm around Matt's denim-clad thigh and his hand angled between Matt's legs pressed up against the seat of his ass. As Matt bent down to claim a kiss, Vic murmured, "You know it's watching us."

Matt snickered. "It's a cat. What, do you think it's going to tell Mrs. K everything it sees once she gets back?"

Vic didn't answer and Matt leaned into their kiss, pinning Vic back to the chair. His hand dipped down over the slight paunch at Vic's abdomen and below his smooth pubic mound to grasp at the semi-erect length between his legs. Vic's meaty cock jumped into Matt's hand, and his lover moaned into their kiss as Matt massaged his firm length. ::Here's fine,:: Vic admitted, sinking down in his seat and spreading his legs to allow Matt access to his most intimate spot.

But when Matt cupped his balls, Vic froze. Matt's mouth brushed against the side of his lover's face as Vic turned away. "What?"

A furrow creased Vic's brow. "Mrs. K."

With a bark of laughter, Matt stood and leaned back against the kitchen table, his hand still lost in the folds of Vic's robe. "Way to spoil the mood, Romeo. She's not exactly on my mind when we're getting it on. Is this about the cat? Because we can still go to the bedroom if you want."

Vic shook his head. Extracting Matt's hand from between his legs, he raised it to his lips and kissed his lover's knuckles. "No, I mean she's headed back. I just picked up on her thoughts as she turned onto the street."

Matt sighed. "Which means now I have to wait."

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Fresh From The Sea

Out Now from Chastise Books





'Fresh From The Sea' by Fabian Black

A Great Summer Read!

'Fresh from the Sea' introduces David Jordan and his temperamental partner Linval Larkin, a culinary writer and ex-celebrity chef.

David and Lin own a bed and breakfast establishment called Sandstones, formerly a seventeenth century smugglers inn, from which they also run The Transit of Venus, the smallest seafood restaurant in England.

In this first story Lin is having a stressful day. He encounters prophetic bees, a mysterious sea mist, an irksome guest, and an irate partner. Worse - when the main ingredient for several of his planned and advertised dishes turns against him, he becomes distraught because it looks like the restaurant will have to remain closed. He fears being dishonoured as a chef.

Excerpt:

“God, that bloody man can rattle on. I thought I was never going to get away.” Lin stumped back into the kitchen, slamming the tray onto the kitchen table.

“Put the tray back where it belongs without banging it. I hope you were pleasant in there? People don’t pay good money to have you be rude to them. This isn’t Fawlty Towers.”

Linval blew out his cheeks. “Fear not, Sybil, I was courtesy itself. I stood there smiling and nodding like a rear window car ornament, as he stuffed toast into one half of his gob and prattled out of the other. Did you notice he's wearing socks with his flip-flops? Bad enough with bloody sandals, but flip-flops! He's cut holes in them where the toe post fits. He's a fucking disgrace. I don't know how she can bear to be seen with him. I mean she's hardly haut couture, but at least she's presentable.”

“What he wears is none of your business. He comes here to relax not take part in a fashion show. Stanes is hardly the French Riviera. Socks with sandals are standard around here, so leave the man alone.”

David turned his attention to packing up the lunch he’d prepared. He slipped neat triangles of wholemeal bread filled with seasoned fresh crabmeat into a sandwich box, garnishing them with yellow and red cherry tomatoes picked from the greenhouse.

“We need more scones,” he carefully packed Stilton and salmon tartlets into another box. “Do you want me to knock up a batch or would you prefer to do it?”

“You do it. I know you want to.” Lin flicked strands of sand gold hair out of his eyes, watching sullenly as David split and buttered the last two scones, filling them with homemade gooseberry preserve before parcelling them into yet another box, along with a pot of thick clotted cream. “I’m not in a baking mood. Just make sure you don’t over knead the dough, or they’ll be dry and tough. You don’t have to pummel it into submission, be gentle, remember you’re baking scones not casting clay pots.”

“Thank you, you made your point.” David put the boxed repast into a backpack. “There’s no need to labour it and I don’t want you hovering over me when I’m making them.”

"If you did it right I wouldn't have to hover."

Ignoring the slight on his scone making ability David made a flask of milky coffee and added some fruit to complete the requested packed lunch. “Do you think it’s enough?”

“Enough for normal people yes.” Lin walked to the open door. Folding his arms he leaned against the doorjamb, viewing the garden. “Porky Prescott might disagree.” He glanced over his shoulder, “know what, I don’t believe they’re a childless couple at all. The big greedy bugger probably ate the kids when the poor cow wasn’t looking. If he continues to patronise our establishment we’ll be running at a loss.”

“Behave, Lin. I'm sick of hearing you gripe and bitch, put a lid on it. I won’t tell you again.”

“Good, suits me.”

Unfolding his arms Lin stormed across to the windowsill where the CD player stood, savagely stabbing a finger on the off button. “I hate singing fucking fish. There’s not one of them can do a decent cover of a Lady Gaga single.”

“Thank heavens for small mercies and whales are mammals, not fish. I was listening to it, so it was rude of you to turn it off.”

"It was getting on my nerves. You only listen to it because the bloke who gave you it fancied you."

"He did nothing of the sort, and he gave it to both of us not just me. I listen to it because I like it and you should have asked before turning it off."

Grasping Lin's arm David towed him over to the kitchen table. Pulling out a chair he thrust him down onto its seat. “You're still sulking about this morning and you have no right, none at all.”

Placing one hand on the table and the other on the back of the chair he leaned towards Lin, his navy eyes glittering with a dangerous light. "I told you not to go near the beach. It wasn’t an open-ended suggestion. It was a straight instruction, which you ignored. You got exactly what you deserved."

Available from All Romance

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-freshfromthesea-577320-145.html

Scarred by J.M. Snyder

Now Available from JMS Books LLC!

Scarred
by J.M. Snyder

GENRE: Erotica • Futuristic • Gay Fiction
LENGTH: 44,676 words

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BLURB:
Biker gangs known as regulators rule the streets of a war-torn city with hate and pain -- their cruelty is etched into every inch of Dae's battered body. He has never known anything but hurt from the hands of men ... until he meets Coby.

When the new regulator rides into town and takes an interest in him, Dae is unwilling to believe that anyone who is a regulator can be a gentle, caring lover.

Is Coby strong enough to protect Dae and his sister Delia when there's hell to pay in the form of McBane?

EXCERPT:
The only one to stay behind is Coby -- I figured as much. He waits until the door closes on the last of his men before he pushes away from the table and stands, not looking my way. I watch him approach the counter, digging in his pocket for a battered wallet, the leather held together with rubber bands to keep things from falling out. Not that there's much inside -- he opens it up on the counter, riffles through the few bills in there, frowns slightly and asks, "What's it gonna be?"

I'm surprised he's paying. Most regulators try to talk me into giving them a tab, which I don't want to do because that's an open invite right there to come back and that's the last thing I want. But it's quiet in here now, the noise from his men trapped outside beyond the window panes, and he hasn't raised his voice at me, hasn't touched me, and there's something to be said for that. Another time and place, he might be just a normal boy on the other side of my counter, paying for a meal.

This close I see he's about my height, maybe a few inches taller, and he's about my build, too, though more muscle than me, not as filled out in some places, bulkier in others. Those eyes are like silver dollars winking in the lights overhead, and the scars across his nose just add to his boyish air. I wonder who he'd be in a different world, if he'd still be this soft-spoken, this polite. I watch his fingers as he toys with the cash -- he has big hands, with scuffed knuckles and scraped palms, and I wonder if they're as deceiving as the rest of him. If they're as soft, as gentle, as his voice when he prompts, "Sir?"

Sir. It's the sir that makes me undercharge him, I decide, not his hands or his voice or his eyes. "Five's fine," I tell him, taking the offered bill and turning away. "Have a good night."

He doesn't leave. Instead he leans on the counter, stares at my mouth and says, "We need a place to stay."

Here it is then, what I've been expecting since they walked through that door. The proposition. Let me fuck you and I'll keep the men away from your sister, that's what those words mean. Bend over and we won't trash your place. I've heard it all before. How could I even think he might be someone different? My voice hardens when I say, "There's a boarding house down the street. Kyla's. She's got extra rooms in the back, don't let her try and tell you she doesn't."

He watches as I wipe down the counter -- it doesn't need it, it's just something to do to keep from meeting his steady gaze. He's trying to get a bead on me, I know he is, and as long as I don't look at him, he can't really pin me down in his mind. Go on, I plea silently, feeling him watch my every move, the circular motion of my hand as I rub the counter, the muscles in my arms flexing, I wish I had on long sleeves to hide that pale skin. Go on, don't say another word. You said you weren't like everyone else, remember? So prove it already. Just say goodnight and go.

I should have known better. So he has pretty eyes, so what? So he has manners and a nice smile and a soft voice. He's still a regulator, he's still one of them, those men who ride through this war-torn wasteland and control what's left. "You don't get my drift," he says in that damnably quiet voice of his, and then, when I don't reply, he wants to know, "That girl? What did you call her, Delia?" Involuntarily my hand closes into a tight fist, a gesture he doesn't miss. "Who's she to you?"

"My sister," I tell him through clenched teeth. "I'll not have your men stay the night --"

"Just me," he corrects. Yes, that's what I thought.

Now I look up and I see the hunger in his eyes, the lust, the need, and dammit the hell, I was right all along. I don't realize there's a part of me that hoped he might prove different until I feel my heart twist angrily in my chest, fuck him. "I guess I can't really say no, can I?" I ask, bitter.

He shrugs. No would be stupid, no would dissolve this civil discussion into a brutal rape, no would send Tarn up the back stairs for Delia and Ravid in here with his knife -- I can't say no. That's not even an option. I let this kid have his way, a quick fuck and a bed, and it's over with. He might smack me around a bit but I'm not thinking of me anymore. I've been hit before. I'm thinking of the girls upstairs. I'll get by as long as I think of them.

Touching my hand, he trails one finger down an old scar that's healed crooked along my thumb, more of McBane's handiwork, when I made the mistake once of trying to shield myself from his blows. "I'm gentle," he murmurs, tracing the scar. "I'll not hurt you, I promise."

That's something I've never heard before, and the faint press of his skin against mine rouses my blood in a way I'm not sure I like. I don't like it, I tell myself, I won't. But when he looks at me with those mercurial eyes, I find that I can't look away, and his hand covers mine with an unexpected warmth that surprises me. "One night, sir," he says. There's that sir again. "That's all I'm asking."

One night. And he's asking so sweetly, too, like there's nothing else at stake here, we're just two boys looking to find something together, and that's not the way it is, not at all. He's not even asking, not really -- I say no and this whole charade, this whole pretense, is over. He signals to his friends and they come back in, hold me down, he takes what he wants anyway and that gentle crap is just another lie.

But his hand on mine is softer than I imagined it would be, his touch is gentle, and he holds his breath as if I might actually say no after all. I stare into his depthless eyes and think I've had worse. A lot worse. And it keeps Delia safe ... I pull my hand out from under his and attack the counter with renewed vigor, hating the small part of me that is almost looking forward to a tender touch, sex without pain or blood, sex with him. "Fine," I say, defeated.

If it keeps his men away from Delia, then fine.

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Breathe Me In

Breathe Me In – Tales of the Darkworld Book Six and a Half

Pink Petal Books

M/M, vampire/Magia, erotic paranormal romance

Novella


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Blurb:

Life is good for vampire Wilson North. His family left him well off. His job as an estate attorney is prestigious, well paying, and non-demanding. He’s gay and out and never had any issues being either. In fact, until the day he ended up beneath his car, bleeding out and only a few pints of blood from a sure trip to the Afterworld, life had never been a challenge.

When Will meets his destiny in the form of an enigmatic Magia named Garrick Forrester he finds the challenge of his life. Garrick’s gay but doesn’t live an openly gay life. Instead, he hides his nature behind his ownership of a BDSM club. The two men instantly know they are mates, but that doesn’t smooth the path to their bonding. Garrick wants Will but threats from his past convince him that the only way to protect his lover is to leave him. Shocked by Garrick’s ability to walk away, Will struggles to understand why his mate doesn’t want him. For the first time in Will’s life, something isn’t easy and he must fight for what he needs or give up his chance for happiness.

Drawn together by destiny. Torn apart by self-doubts and fear. Two men on the cusp of a dream must set aside the lives they’ve always lived for a chance at a new and brilliant future.

Warning: This book contains virgin sex between a sexy self-sacrificing wizard who’s never been catcher and an angelic-faced vampire who’s never pitched, a BDSM bad guy with dark magic, a mysterious royal Acerbian, and a host of characters from previous Tales books who do everything from implode buildings to change diapers…all to help two reluctant heroes find true love.

Excerpt:

Dark lashes flicked up and the beauty of Wilson North blazed through Garrick’s very soul when their eyes met this time. The lure of such angelic masculinity proved too much for him and he found himself pushing off from the marble crypt. He glided toward the bench where Will sat, his sole thought to lose himself in the salvation those dark eyes promised.

A visible shiver went through Will as Garrick stopped before him. Holding out his hand, Garrick silently prayed to the gods that Will would just take it and question things later. At the moment, all Garrick wanted was to touch Will, hold him and love him. Problems and logistics and the real world and all its damned obligations could come into play and be solved—or not—later. For just this moment in time, Garrick wanted to hold Will and breathe him in and know that they belonged to one another.

With eyes blazing, Will slipped his hand into Garrick’s, and they both drew in a breath as a metaphysical crackle of electricity arced between them. Then with a slow, fluid motion like that of wings unfurling, Will came to his feet. Garrick noted the slight wince the vampire gave as his weight settled onto both legs. He sensed rather than saw the pain lancing through Will’s body despite the natural grace of his movements. And he wished with every bit of his theurgic strength that he could heal his mate’s injuries despite the sure knowledge that Will had received the best healing possible after his accident. Helplessness never sat well within Garrick and with this man it spurred his natural possessiveness.

“Your name sounds familiar but if I’d met you before, I would have remembered,” Will said in a low voice. “You’re unbelievably hot.”

Garrick smiled at his soon-to-be lover. “You look like a Botticelli angel,” he replied, knowing that his words would give away the depth to which Will already affected him.

“Me?” Will’s brows winged up in surprise.

“Yes, you.” Garrick used the hand he still held to pull Will closer.

The heat of the vampire’s body registered briefly in his mind as he swept the man against his chest. The strange zing he’d experienced when Will took his hand became magnified a hundredfold as their bodies touched from chest to knee. Will sucked in a harsh breath and Garrick used the moment to reach up and cradle his mate’s dark head in his free hand.

They were nearly the same height but Garrick had a slight inch on Will. Still, their mouths were so close together, they already shared breaths. Garrick knew in the marrow of his bones that soon they would share more. That knowledge drove him to take the mouth of his mate with soft urgency, asking for Will’s capitulation rather than demanding as most Alphas would. At first, the firm lips beneath his own held a touch of Alpha resistance at being taken, but the instant he touched the tip of his tongue to that cool flesh, the man in his arms moaned and became his.

Lips parted, both his own and Will’s. They both sighed, breaths mingling as their hearts thudded in tandem, and they slowly, with absolute irrevocability, breathed each other in. The slightly muddied thoughts Garrick had gotten from Will only moments before shifted to an ice sharp clarity that stabbed his psyche, piercing it with the revelation that he would never be the same again. He belonged to Will. Will belonged to him. They were one whether they completed their mating or not. Destiny could be ignored, but never denied.

The kiss took on a familiarity that spoke of past lives together—if one believed in the reincarnation of souls—and a rightness that settled into Garrick’s head as firmly as Will’s thoughts did. Fear licked him as his tongue traced the edge of Will’s teeth. He understood that Will heard his thoughts now as clearly as he heard Will’s. Their bond ensured neither of them would ever be alone again and the loss of privacy morphed momentarily into a panic driven by the sense that he’d lost himself. But it dissolved almost as quickly as it had come when his tongue twined with the heated roughness of Will’s.

Tasting Will had all the qualities of sipping the finest Cabernet Sauvignon. Will’s flavor burst onto Garrick’s tongue in the same way that the wine’s tannins did, the tartness providing an edge of danger to the elegance. Firm muscles rippled beneath Garrick’s wandering free hand, reinforcing the notion that for all his sophistication, the man in his arms had more depth than a simple clothes horse. Will’s hands closed on Garrick’s buttocks and the Magia had no idea whose hips moved first, but the seductive brush of cloth covered erections made it obvious that it didn’t matter. They were equally aroused.

Sunstroked

Sunstroked – Tales of the Darkworld Book Six

Pink Petal Books

M/M, wildling (fae)/werewolf, erotic paranormal romance

Novella (41K)

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Blurb:
When wildling Corey Green discovers his mate is Seth Dylan, a tough as nails, dour werewolf from the McCallan clan, he thinks his life is set. However, Seth’s not out and doesn’t know if he wants to be. A pivotal sexual encounter between the men has Seth running scared and leaves Corey broken hearted. The men meet again nearly two years later and this time Seth’s out but Corey’s dark depression is about to send him behind the Veil of the Jewel Box to the fae world. Seth’s determined to make up for running out on Corey, but the wildling’s sunny disposition has gone so dark it may be too late for them to build a life together. With love on his side, Seth sets out return the sunshine to Corey’s soul.

Warning: Contains two hot gay men who love sunshine, sex that makes the plants and trees grow, and a big bad wolf who will do anything to win the man he loves.

Excerpt:

Corey Green had to be the most beautiful man Seth had ever seen. And his looks weren’t even half his appeal. If the man hadn’t been so incredibly nice on top of his sexiness, Seth wouldn’t have even considered losing his virginity to the guy. But he knew, just as he knew his own innate sexuality, that being with Corey was right. His sense of destiny galloped headlong toward Corey’s bedroom, carrying Seth toward something he wanted with a fierceness that made every muscle in his body tremble.

He wanted what was to come, needed it. The darkness he’d lived in his entire life had brightened the moment Corey had spoken to him, and Seth didn’t want to go back to the dark. He wanted to walk in the sun for the first time, maybe the only time, in his life. Corey represented happiness and pleasure and freedom, all things that had been in short supply throughout Seth’s life. Tomorrow he’d think about whether he should continue to deny his sexuality. Tomorrow he’d figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Tonight, all he wanted was pleasure. The pleasure he and his lover would give each other…

“You’re thinking too much,” Corey murmured and wrapped one hand around the back of Seth’s head, drawing him closer. “You just need to feel. Feel and enjoy.”

Seth let Corey pull him close. His heart pounded so hard he wondered if Corey could hear it. As the wildling’s mouth came down on his, Seth had the sense that the sun had emerged from behind a cloud. Searing heat flushed his body as if the sun beat down on his skin. With a sigh, Seth surrendered to the teasing lick of Corey’s tongue, opening his mouth to invite his lover inside. Their tongues twined and joy shot through Seth. A simple kiss had never felt so good.

When Corey broke off the kiss, Seth moaned in protest. With a chuckle, Corey threaded his fingers with Seth’s and led the way upstairs. The bedroom stood in shadow, the setting sun slanting only a few faint rays through the open window. Corey flicked on the bedside lamp and the room filled with a golden light.

“Tell me what you want.”

Corey’s voice held a softness and caring that sent a shudder through Seth. So few people in his life had cared about him. For this man whom he’d just met to openly show he cared about Seth’s feelings, wants, and desires, sent a wave of nameless emotion through him. Although they’d not done much yet, Seth already teetered on overload. Yet, he welcomed it. His past would be set aside from this moment onward. He would look to the future and look inside himself for the answers, and not look to his pack or his family to supply the blueprint for his life.

“I want it all.”

His stark words were met with a glorious smile. The curving of Corey’s generous, sexy lips made Seth’s mouth water.

“Well, of course you do,” Corey said, brushing his fingers through Seth’s unruly hair. “And I’m perfectly willing to be a sexual smorgasbord, but where do you want to start? What do you want to do first?”

Seth reached up and locked his fingers around Corey’s wrist, feeling the thrum of the wildling’s blood beneath his fingertips. “Have you ever had a virgin before?” he asked, his heart suddenly aching to know where he stood with Corey.

Two hands cupped his face for a brief moment, a fleeting caress meant to soothe.

“No, I haven’t. But you’re special. I sensed it immediately,” Corey replied honestly, his steel blue eyes serious. “I want to show you how wonderful this can be. I want to show you what you feel is not wrong. How can pleasure be wrong? It is no one’s place to sit in judgment on another especially with regard to acts of pleasure between two consenting adults. You’re not a freak, Seth. You’re just a man with healthy desires. Other men will want to be with you. I want to be with you. And there is nothing wrong with that. Let me show you how good it can be.”

Seth pondered Corey’s words for a moment, recognizing the truth in them. The darkness within him lightened. He stretched out a hand and laid it on Corey’s hip.

“I want to touch and be touched.”

A sigh escaped the wildling. Something brilliant glittered in his steel colored eyes for a moment, then he blinked them shut. When they opened, raw hunger blazed at Seth from the handsome face of the man who would be his first real lover. Then Corey spread his arms wide. The teasing smile that Seth had instantly been drawn to lit Corey’s face. Bathed in the smile’s radiance, it almost seemed to Seth as if a door had closed on his past, locking the darkness away where it could no longer reach him. His mouth went dry, his heart pounded to an uneven rhythm driven by lust and a plethora of emotions he couldn’t begin to define.

With shaking but determined hands, Seth pushed up Corey’s polo shirt exposing a broad golden-skinned chest. Moments later, the shirt hit the floor, and Seth’s fingertips found the wildling’s nipples. The flat discs puckered beneath his touch, and Corey groaned. Silently, Seth groaned too. The smooth skin beneath his hands didn’t feel anything like a woman’s. His palms skated over the hard contours of Corey’s torso, and he decided the man’s skin felt like rough silk.

Honorable Silence - Afterburner

Honorable Silence Anthology: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Featuring Afterburner by Lex Valentine

MLR Press

M/M Erotic Contemporary Gay Romance

Novel length anthology (4 novellas by Lex Valentine, Maura Anderson, William Maltese and George Seaton)

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Afterburner Blurb:


Sebastian “Bas” Marchetti has spent his life doing two things, hiding his sexuality and flying. Born into an aerobatic family, Bas learned to fly long before he could drive. After a stellar career in the military that encompassed a turn as a U.S.A.F. Thunderbird and a test pilot, Bas leaves the service when his father dies in order to take over operations of the Flying Marchettis. Fully out of the closet and unwilling to return to it, Bas struggles with the demons of his past military career when he meets test pilot Ryder “Flip” Beckett. Together, Ryder and Bas find a love that neither is willing to give up. With Ryder living the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, they struggle to have a normal relationship. Bas loves Ryder enough to be his dirty little secret. However, that’s not enough for Ryder who loves his man so much he’ll risk court martial to be with Bas.


Excerpt:


Bas heard the boom before he saw the drift of smoke in the distant sky. Fear took instant hold of him, pain stabbing his chest. He stared at the narrow trail of black smoke that rose from the far off desert floor. The area Ryder would have been flying over today.

His hand clutched the wrench in a white knuckled grip. He knew the flight patterns for the test pilots. He also knew the sound of a crash when he heard one, knew what the dark smoke meant. Heartbeat picking up speed, he put away his tools and locked the hangar with shaking hands. If there was a crash, it didn’t mean it was Ryder. The wing had more than one jet pilot. He jogged the quarter mile back to the house, afraid his cell phone would start to vibrate in his pocket.

Sweat beaded his forehead and dampened his armpits by the time he reached the garage. His gut told him it was Ryder. His head argued odds were against it. Still, he jerked his keys and phone from his jeans pocket. He got in his truck and headed toward Edwards, conscious of the phone lying on the seat beside him. As he ate up the miles toward the base gate, he prayed the phone wouldn’t ring. God, he didn’t know what he’d do if it rang.

Shivering despite the heat, fear wrapped around him, tightening like a tourniquet, staving off full-blown panic with its mind-numbing qualities. He drew a shuddering breath as he approached the gate. Seeing the stickers on his windshield, the guards waved him on through. Once inside the gate, Bas pulled to the curb momentarily. He didn’t see anything that would indicate there’d been a catastrophic accident. No servicemen rushing around. No base lockdown. No sirens.

For a moment, he didn’t know whether to head toward the testing wing or not. He had no rights. He might be Ryder’s partner, but that meant nothing to the Air Force. They could have been legally married by the laws of the state of California – not that any such law had been passed yet—and it wouldn’t matter to the military.

Anger welled inside Bas as he realized his phone would not ring. If there was an accident, if his partner was injured or dead, no one would call him. He glared at his silent phone. He had no rights. The man who meant everything to him could be dead and no one would tell him. According to the Air Force, he had no right to ask and they didn’t have to tell.

Pulling the truck out onto the street, Bas drove toward the test pilot school. He needed to ask someone who would tell him. Someone he trusted.

He stopped in front of the building where he reported to work twice a week and got out of the truck. Coming down the steps of the building was his boss and friend, Mike Aarons. When Mike headed straight toward him with an iron hard expression on his face, Bas felt his stomach sink. Nausea rose within him. He leaned against his front fender and clenched his fists to control his shaking.

“Mike?” His voice sounded like sandpaper as he tried to speak around the lump in his throat.

Sympathy washed over the colonel’s face and for a split second, Bas thought Ryder was dead. Then a little smile quirked up Mike’s mouth.

“He’s fine, Bas.” The deep tones of the colonel’s voice reached down into the pit of Bas’s stomach and warmed him. “He punched out. He’s got a concussion and a few scrapes and bruises but he’s okay. They’ll be releasing him from the base hospital in a bit. He’ll need to go home and go to bed. He’ll be de-briefed tomorrow when his head is clearer.”

Bas slumped against his truck and tried to mentally pull himself together. Ryder was okay and that’s all that mattered. “I can’t pick him up.” The acid words ate at his guts fueling his anger at the politics of the country both he and Ryder had risked their lives for repeatedly.

The colonel shook his head. “Look, I’ll have one of the guys take me down there and I’ll bring him back in his car. It can stay here overnight and you can bring him in tomorrow when you come to work. I wish I could tell you things were different, but they aren’t yet. Hopefully, by the time Ryder retires things will be the way they should be. No one’s ethnicity, gender, or sexuality should factor into their service to their country. You and Ryder have done your duty and your government appreciates it. They just don’t want to know who you sleep with in the privacy of your own home. And even then, if a serious conflict broke out tomorrow, Uncle Sam would be sending both of you to the front line. You’re the best there is regardless of your sexual orientation.”

Drawing a deep, shaking breath Bas nodded. “I know. It’s just hard. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. And honestly, Mike, it’s harder for me than for Ryder and he’s the one who is still active duty.”

Mike Aarons grinned. “No offense to you, Bas, but that boy has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Whomever he loves will always come first with him and everything else be damned.” He clapped Bas on the shoulder in that familiar male gesture of comfort. “Lemme get Bubba to run me down there to get him. You just hang tight.”

Bas sat in his truck and tried not to worry. Mike’s words kept echoing in his head. He knew that men with the top notch skills he and Ryder had would never be free of service to their country should a war break out. He knew the climate seemed to be changing for the better for gays in the military too. However, it didn’t stop his heart from aching with the need to be with Ryder now when his lover was shaken and hurting after ejecting from his F-35. Bas just needed to touch him and breathe in his scent and know that Ryder was okay.

Staring at his hands, he noted the tremor of his fingers. He raised them to the steering wheel and gripped it hard. For thirty long minutes he sat in the truck in the hot desert sun, oblivious to the heat, trying not to panic, and filled with the need to see and touch Ryder. Finally, he saw Ryder’s Mustang coming toward him. He got out of the truck and stood awkwardly by the fender as Mike parked the Mustang next to the school and got out. The passenger door opened and Ryder’s long legs appeared. He angled himself carefully out of the small car, shoulders and legs moving stiffly in his green flight suit. His head turned and their gazes met.

Heart pounding, breath catching in his throat, Bas took a step forward. Ryder’s eye sockets seemed slightly sunken and one cheekbone had a bruise, but his blue eyes blazed with emotion as he started walking toward Bas. In a split second, Bas noticed the stiffness of his lover’s gait and the slight limp. Without thought, he broke into a run. When he reached Ryder, he grabbed him around the waist with one arm, half hugging him, half holding him up.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely, trying to control his emotions.

Ryder laughed softly. “Yeah. Banged up a little but otherwise okay.” He leaned his weight on Bas’s supporting arm. “My knee hurts like fuck.”

“Doc says he’ll need to take these once he gets home and someone needs to keep an eye on him because of the concussion.” Mike handed Bas a bag from the base pharmacy and Ryder’s keys. “The car will be fine here overnight. You just take it easy and do what Doc says, Ryder. Bas, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mike walked away and entered the test pilot school. The door whooshed closed behind him, leaving Bas and Ryder alone. Bas swallowed hard and clenched his fingers around the bag.

“Let’s get you in the truck,” he said gruffly. “If you need to be watched, you’ll have to stay at my place tonight.”

Ryder’s expression was ironic. Both of them knew Ryder had no intention of staying the night in the apartment. Bas wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he had. He could barely stop himself from stripping off Ryder’s flight suit and checking out his injuries right there on the street. Instead, he helped his lover into the truck, noting how Ryder winced when he bent his knee and how he favored his right shoulder a little too.

Bas got in the truck and turned the AC on full blast. Ryder let out a long sigh.

“That feels good. I feel like I’ve sweat off twenty pounds in this damn suit,” he groaned, yanking the zipper down to his waist.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Bas asked as he turned toward the base gate.

“Not particularly. In part, because I’m not quite sure. And the other part is that my damned head hurts like hell.” Ryder grimaced. “I’ve only ever punched out once before and it wasn’t pretty then either. I’d forgotten how bad your body can feel afterward.”

Bas drove through the gate and out on the main road. Five minutes later when he turned down the narrow two lane road that led to Forza, he yanked the truck off the road onto the shoulder. Thrusting the gear shift into park, he swiftly popped his seat belt off and twisted in his seat to slam his mouth down on Ryder’s. One hand came up to gently cup the back of his lover’s head as his lips and tongue demanded a response from Ryder. The kiss held a note of frantic worry in it and Bas ran his free hand over Ryder, just to make sure he was all in one piece. Ryder’s tongue flicked out to tangle with his and Bas moaned. Pulling away, he stared into Ryder’s dark blue eyes.

“Fuck, you scared me. I heard the boom and saw the smoke and I knew it was you,” he rasped. His eyes blinked closed for a second on a wave of pain. “I took off for the base right away and when I got there it dawned on me. I looked at my phone and I knew that even if it was you…if something bad had happened…my phone wasn’t going to ring.”

Bas could hear his voice shaking with fear and pain as he relived those moments when he realized he had no rights where Ryder was concerned. The sense of helplessness and injustice rose within him once more. He wanted to lash out at someone for the position he’d been put in. The person he loved most in the whole world was someone he couldn’t live with openly, couldn’t marry legally, and whose employer would court martial him and take away his retirement if their relationship was found out. He gritted his teeth at the unfairness of it.

Ryder’s hand stroked down his cheek. “We can fix that. And we will. Without admitting a thing to anyone,” he whispered. “I want you to have rights where I’m concerned and I’d like to have them in return. What the hell are they gonna say to me anyway? I’ll just tell them it’s ‘cause my mom is so far away and in poor health. Who the fuck are they to say I can’t have a durable power of attorney for health care giving you the right to make decisions about me? In fact, now that today’s accident happened, they probably won’t think anything of it at all, which is how it should be.”

Catching Ryder’s hand in his, Bas kissed his fingers briefly then put his seatbelt back on. He pulled out onto the empty road and reached out to take Ryder’s hand in his again, threading their fingers together. They drove in silence the rest of the way home.

On the Job by J.M. Snyder

Now Available from JMS Books LLC!

On the Job
by J.M. Snyder

GENRE: Contemporary • Erotica • Gay Fiction
LENGTH: 5,944 words

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!

BLURB:
Charles is a service technician with the cable company who doesn't usually do new installs. His day is limited to trouble calls and reconnects.

But an irate customer has called into the office -- he missed the installer and now demands the cable company send someone out to hook up his service. Charles is already in the neighborhood when he gets the call.

New installs aren't usually in Charles's job description. But when he meets the sexy Billy Jackson, he's more than willing to hook the guy up.

EXCERPT:
I get the ladder off the back of the truck and lean it against the telephone pole in front of his house. After jiggling it into a secure position, I climb up to the amplifier and change the fittings, trying not to think about Mr. Jackson inside the house, who's probably now undressed, drying off with that thirsty towel, rubbing it roughly through that wavy hair ...

Stop it.

I concentrate on unrolling the cable wrapped around my shoulder. Okay, sure, he's a cute one. Fuck, he's probably the hottest guy I've ever seen in this dead-end town. But I'm the cable man. I'm here to hook up his TV and make sure he has pictures and then if I'm lucky, he'll have no problems and will never call the office again.

Screwing one cable fitting onto the tap, I toss the rest of the coiled black wire down to the ground. I hope I have a long enough drop. When I walked from the house to my truck I counted my steps in an effort to take my mind off the young man inside, and for added measure I pulled out another ten feet of cable before I cut it. I don't want it to be too short. He'll think I'm an idiot if I have to do all this over again.

I turn to look over my shoulder, mentally measuring the distance from the pole to the side of the house, and I have a clear view into the second story window, where he's standing in that damn towel, digging through a pile of clothes. The curtains are open and I know he knows I'm here, he has to know, but he turns his back to the window and lets the towel fall away ...

Sweet Jesus.

As the towel drops to the floor, it reveals a round, chiseled ass, perfectly shaped, and I have to grab onto the telephone pole because I'm going to fall. I think I've already fallen, and I can't look away from the window as he tugs on a pair of white boxers followed by jeans, wiggling his hips to settle everything into place before he zips up. My mouth has to be open. My eyes must be bugging and staring and wide. Suddenly my pants are way too tight and every move I made chafes my cock, sending sweet splinters of pleasure through me. What did I turn around for again? What the hell am I doing here?

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!

The Regent's Knight by J.M. Snyder

Now Available from JMS Books LLC!

The Regent's Knight
by J.M. Snyder

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!

BLURB:
Prince Amery Llewellen is the only son of King Adin of Pharr and heir to the throne. When his father is lost in battle with the barbaric tribes invading the northern Pharrisian border, Amery becomes regent in his father’s stead. The royal advisers pressure him to take the crown and assume the throne, but doing so will force him to take a wife as well. Amery is loathe to do that, because he’s deeply in love with one of his knights, Sir Tovin Raimus, from the southland.

Such a relationship is forbidden -- both because Tovin is another man and because he is a knight, much below the station of a prince. After King Adin forbid their union, Tovin and Amery masked their love with fights and arguments designed to make the servants believe they loathe each other. The whole castle dreads the news that the northern border has been breached, because when Tovin is assigned the position of castellan, that makes him head of castle security. His being stationed so near the regent has the servants believing the two will fight to the death.

That’s just a farce to keep their love a secret. But Pharr needs a crowned ruler, and Amery must decide whether to take his rightful place on the throne or forsake his kingdom for the love of one man.

EXCERPT:

"Gods," Tovin breathed as he crawled onto Amery.

The regent started to speak but Tovin covered his mouth with his own, silencing him with a hungry kiss as his hands roamed the smooth body beneath him. His fingers plucked Amery's nipples erect, eliciting gasps of delight from his lover. Moving lower, he brushed away the hand at Amery's crotch and grasped the thick length, massaging it in his fist, working it hard.

"Tovin," Amery managed to murmur between kisses. When Tovin cupped his balls and tickled one forefinger along the tender skin behind them, the regent arched into the knight's body and moaned. "It's been too long."

Straddling Amery's hips, Tovin sat back and pulled off his surcoat. "It has," he agreed with a grin.

The regent reached for him, hands tugging at the scant hair on his chest, then thumbing over his nipples. Each touch sent a sliver of pleasure spiking through Tovin like lightning, striking his overly sensitive nipples and shooting down to stir the blood already thickening in his dick. He could come from such play -- one of the first times he and Amery had been together, when they were still teenagers and kissing was the extent of their lovemaking, Amery had been amused to find that a few minutes' suckling on Tovin's teats was more than enough to get him off.

Catching Amery's hands in his, Tovin raised them to his mouth and kissed each fingertip. "Stop that," he admonished, "or I won't be able to pierce that sexy ass of yours with my sword."

Amery laughed and, twisting one hand free from Tovin's grip, poked at the bulge in the front of the knight's breeches. "Your sword? Is that what this is? Unsheathe it, knight, and wield it for me. Let me test its breadth and heft. Let me feel its blade."

Tovin rocked back, his buttocks pressing Amery's hard cock against his own legs. The regent's mocking words dissolved in a gasp of delight as his eyes shut against the sensations caused by Tovin's body against his. The hand at his crotch bunched in the fabric covering his erection with a gentle squeeze that made him moan.

Catching that hand again, Tovin raised it to the other and held both of Amery's wrists against his chest. "I have an idea," he announced.

"What's that?" Amery wiggled his hips beneath Tovin to remind him that he was waiting for something more. "Can you tell me later?"

Tovin laughed. "I can tell you now," he replied. "I'm still mostly dressed. These pants aren't coming off until I'm ready."

Amery pouted and tried to twist his wrists free from Tovin's grip. "I think you're ready now," he declared. "I'm the regent. My word is law. I say you're ready."

Laughing again, Tovin leaned down over the regent, stretching his lover's hands above his head to keep them out of reach. Amery's nipples brushed over Tovin's; he had to close his eyes against the thrill sparked by that touch. Between them, his cock throbbed in his pants, aching for release.

"I think you're in no position to argue with me now," he whispered, touching the tip of Amery's nose with his own. Amery leaned up for a kiss but Tovin pulled away slightly. "Not yet."

Amery sighed, frustrated. "Kiss me now. I demand it."

"You can't make demands here," Tovin told him.

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!