Friday, April 18, 2014

Love means werewolves and vampires, right?

Hey, that's a good part of my romance world, anyway.

In fact, one of my favorite things is an Alternate universe I created around a club called the bloodrose.

I have a new compilation of shorts from club bloodrose with previously published stories and a new piece from Bloodrose regulars Cady and Jonah.

I'm so proud of this one, y'all.

Check it out here!

Also on ARE and Amazon

Here's a bit of Blood rose fun

Deke hated fireworks.

He was sure it was some kind of freaky-deaky holdover from his lupine side, the same instinct that made dogs worldwide run and bark at thunderstorms. Anything that made such a threatening sound had to be given a good bark and bristle. It was defiance of nature at its most simple.

He still hated the damned things. The noise hurt his ears, the bright lights, if he happened to be too close, invariably ruined his night vision, and the twirly, woo-woo ones made him want to howl.

Loud.

Kasey came to stand at the big plate-glass window that separated him from the worst of it this year, handing him a beer. "You doing okay, lover?"

"What do you think?" Muscles jumped under Deke's skin when another round of fireworks went off, streaking the sky with purple and red and blue, like some weird impressionist thing. Only with fire. And popping. He wondered if Monet or whatever the big painter dude's name was liked fireworks.

"I think you're a little tense." That grin spoke volumes about how amused his vamp lover was with the whole thing. Kasey thought his wolf-like qualities were hilarious.

"Shut up."

"Mmm." Kasey sipped something from a crystal goblet, something dark and red and spicy.

"Who donated?" Deke could feed Kasey alone, and did most of the time. Kasey only mixed vamp blood with wine, saying it was almost like doing speed.

"Jonny. You know he likes it when I bleed him a little."

"Yeah." That image was almost pretty enough to calm him down. Almost. Then his leg started jittering again, and Deke sighed. Fuck a duck, that noise.

"I think you're looking at this the wrong way, lover." Moving close, Kasey leaned against his back, stroking one hand over his shoulder and arm. The silk robe Kasey wore rubbed against his bare back, Kasey's long hair sliding over his arm.

"Am I? How?" He was looking at it the only way he could. Through the window. If he went outside he'd end up running in circles and barking until someone took him to the loony bin. Or the pound.

"I think there's a rhythm to all of this. It reminds me of other kind of banging." "You're reaching." But it made him smile, that Kasey was trying to ease him out of his bad mood with a little uglies-bumping.

"It's a holiday. One of yours, admittedly, but a holiday nonetheless." Somewhere, way back in his long life, Kasey was British or some such. He didn't really sound it too much anymore, though. Kasey leaned harder, long black hair sliding forward to touch Deke's ribs. "Holidays should be spent enjoying one's favorite activities."

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Guardian Angel is by Sean Michael is back!

Well, almost back -- it comes out on Wednesday from Resplendence Publishing!

Look at the fantastic cover they did for it:


Country singer Daniel “Dusty” Young can’t understand why anyone would want him dead, or why anyone would think he’s important enough to kidnap. So it comes as a complete surprise when attempts are made on his life and he’s appointed Rafe, a G-man guardian angel. Rafe is determined to protect Daniel, even from himself, but it’s not an easy job.

When Rafe finally takes Daniel off to the middle of nowhere, it gives them time to pursue other things, like each other. Too much R&R might just make them sloppy, though, and sloppy could get them killed. Can they survive fighting for their lives and falling in love?

Look for it tomorrow at Resplendence!

I have to admit, I do love the bodyguard trope. I'm not sure why I haven't written a ton more of it! Although I am currently working on a story that falls into that category -- it's gone long so I'm not sure when it'll be finished!

Here's an excerpt of Guardian Angel:


Hat?

Check.

Levis?

Check.

Six-string?

Hoo-boy.

Dan smiled at Ben and Roxy, and nodded when they gave him the thumbs-up.

The crowd was screaming as the band played the opening chords of “Damned Fine”, and Dan took a deep, deep breath. Okay, Daniel. Time to show ‘em what all you got.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Dusty Young!”

The lights blinded him for a second, swirling blue and red and yellow, but he was expecting it, his fingers moving on the guitar strings automatically. The crowd was loud enough he couldn’t hear himself play, and he could feel the swarm surge forward.

Security, dressed head-to-toe in denim, pushed them back, keeping the screaming fans from getting to the stage.

He shook his ass, leaned down into the mic and started singing, pitching his voice deep and husky, grinning as the crowd went wild. Hell, yes.

The girls up front tossed him flowers and underwear, one trying to toss herself on stage. A dark-haired security guard caught her around the waist and put her back on her feet in the midst of the crowd.

Man, if they only knew what a waste of silky panties that was. He moved across the stage, dancing with Timmy and Darla, tsking under his breath as the two of them flirted wildly with each other. Horndogs.

The show went off without a hitch, Dan feeding off the audience, getting more and more pumped the longer the show went on. That fed the audience in return and near to the end of the final set of songs, a girl got past security and onto the stage, launching herself at him. He stepped back instinctively.

The flash of metal startled him, and he put his hands up, stumbling over some cords. Someone large and denim-dressed pushed the girl out of the way before wrapping around him and pulling him toward the wings.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Did she have a gun?” He stumbled along, heart just pounding. “Where are we going?”

“Leaving the fucking building. Are you hurt anywhere, Mr. Young?” The arms around him were strong, the security guard tall, muscled, voice deep.

“Leaving the…? But I got a show to finish! The label’s going to fucking burn me.”

“Protocol is to get you out of the building until it’s cleared, Mr. Young.”

“Cleared? You don’t just—” A series of shots rang out, and he went stiff. “Jesus fucking Christ! Tell me my band’s being moved.”

Sweet fuck.

Was he hurt?

Did he even know?

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

Mr. Muscles started running, pulling Dan along, not saying a word, just pulling him through the winding corridors of the concert hall.

Suddenly, they were out, and he was being hustled into the back of a car, his security guard coming with him.

He shook his head, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. “My guys. I need to get my guys.”

“You suddenly bulletproof?” His protector nodded to the driver. “Get us out of here.”

The car peeled away, leaving the concert hall behind.

“What the fuck?” Dan twisted, reaching in his back pocket for his cell. He’d call Aimee, tell his manager this shit wasn’t going to work.

One big hand swallowed the phone up. “Sorry, Mr. Young. Protocol is that we get you out, and there’s no contact until we know it’s safe.”

The guy pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Archangel here, I’ve got the primary. What’s going on back there?”

“Chaos. Pure fucking chaos. Get out of there like your ass is on fire.”

“Got you.”

The walkie-talkie was turned off and tucked away again in the denim jacket. “Location B.”

The driver nodded.

“Bullshit. Give me my fucking phone.” No fucking way was this on the up and up. He was a singer, not the goddamn president. Something smelled like shit.

His daddy always said, Smelled like shit? Probably didn’t taste like Granny’s biscuits.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Young, I can’t do that.” The warm brown eyes really did look sorry.

Okay. Okay. Think. Keep talking. The next stop light. Hit the door. His or mine? Bastard couldn’t be locked in here, too. “Sure you can. This ain’t national fucking security. It’s country music.”

“That girl had a gun, Mr. Young. She very nearly shot you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Obviously the cops got her. Lemme check on my band.” Okay, my door or try to take the big guy’s door? He reached behind him, testing. He didn’t know what was going on, but this felt all wrong. He had no clue who this guy was—had he gone from the frying pan into the fire? It sure fucking felt like he had. Okay. Fuck. Fuck. Okay.

“Don’t try it,” murmured his…captor?

That’s what this was, right? A kidnapping. “What the fuck’s going on?” Shit, now he was going into sorta scared. Fuck.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe, Mr. Young.”

“Bullshit. I want my phone.”

“Just relax, Mr. Young.” The guy leaned forward and murmured something to the driver who nodded.

Dan took his chance as the car slowed, pushing himself across the man’s back and diving toward the door. Whatever this was, it wasn’t in his fucking contract, and he was getting the hell out of Dodge.

Dan got the door handle and shoved it hard. Come on. Come on. Come on.

“Whoa, there!”

A strong arm went around his waist, and he was pushed between the big body and the back of the car. His captor’s other hand reached over and pulled Dan’s hand off the door. “Are you nuts? You’re going to kill yourself!”

“Let me out or give me my fucking phone.” He was still buzzing from the concert, still vibrating from the adrenaline.

The big asshole just shook his head, using sheer brute force to right him, putting him back in his seat. “Sorry, Mr. Young. I just can’t do that right now.”

“What the fuck is this?” Dan wrapped his hand around the neck of his guitar, holding on. He really didn’t want to use her for a club. He would, but he didn’t want to.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe, Mr. Young. You’re going to need to trust me.” The man held out his hand. “I’m Rafe.”

“Safe from who? I didn’t fall out of the fucking turnip truck this morning.” He shook the man’s hand once, refusing to release the guitar.

Rafe’s hand was warm and solid as he gave Dan’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t have any information to give you, but I can promise you that you won’t be harmed. Not on my watch.”

The car was picking up speed, the street lights fading away behind them.

Okay. Fuck. What was he supposed to do? “No information? Where are we going? Why won’t you give me my phone? Who the fuck’s paying your paycheck?”

Those dark brown eyes looked at him. “What about ‘no information’ are you not getting here?”

“The part where I’m in a strange fucking car with strange fucking muscle. This is fucking asinine.”

“Need to know basis, Mr. Young.” Rafe turned to look out the window. “We’ll be there soon.”

~~~

Sean Michael
smut fixes everything
www.seanmichaelwrites.com

Monday, April 14, 2014

Author Laura Tolomei Dark Fantasy Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Dark Fantasy Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Romance Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Romance Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Paranormal Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Paranormal Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Contemporary Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Author Laura Tolomei Contemporary Side - Threads - LallaGatta

Nab a Copy of All on the Field by Megan Slayer today!

 All on the Field by Megan Slayer

Club Desire, Book 3
M/M, Anal Sex, Toys, Spanking, BDSM
Novella
Resplendence Publishing

Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.

Coming clean and accepting what you want has never been this sexy.

Jordan Brody commands the landscape on the football field. His punt returns are legendary. What’s not so legendary? His sexuality. The hulking football player likes to be spanked and dominated, but he’s not comfortable explaining his needsuntil he visits Club Desire. The visit just might signal the game changer he’s been looking for.

Simon Blue knows how to dominate and how to read people. The moment he sees the sexy football player, he’s transfixed. Taking on a sub isn’t in his game plan, but there’s something about Jordan that calls to Simon’s soul. He’s convinced that a little spanking, some rope and a lot of patience will help Jordan seek the peace he desiresif he can convince Jordan to trust and submit.

Will these two wounded souls charge down the field in the ultimate score or fumble before the game begins?

An AllRomance Ebooks Bestseller!



EXCERPT:
©Megan Slayer, 2014

Article by article of clothing, Jordan stripped himself bare. Being naked didn’t bother him. The locker room afforded no privacy. After a win, the guys routinely slapped each other on the ass, back and chest in congratulations. After a loss? The rookies tended to bear the brunt of the frustration and anger. Anyone with less than two years in the league was hazed by the older players. Jordan had been with the Wild Cats for five years and had never participated in the hazing, but he’d been on the receiving end a couple of times. He’d had his locker stuffed with soiled uniforms, his belongings hidden from him and the inside of his locker plastered with pictures of naked women.

He’d laughed and brushed off the incidents, knowing he’d gotten off easy. The taunts lobbed at the rookies could be harsh. Sometimes there were scuffles. He’d kept his head down and focused on his football career.
But he wasn’t at the practice complex. He was in the middle of the club with Simon. No one would be making fun of him here.

Jordan folded his clothing and placed the garments in a neat pile on one end of the couch. He sat on the cushion. What was he supposed to do while he waited until Simon returned? The chilly air in the room wrapped around his body, and his balls tightened. His nipples hardened, and he fought off the desire to touch himself. Simon hadn’t said a word about masturbating.

Anticipation slid through his veins. He’d never been with a Dom before, but from what he’d seen in porno movies and what he’d heard from Rocke, a Dom wasn’t a bad thing. The man in charge would demand the events of the evening were on his terms.

Jordan could handle taking orders. But for how long? When would his sense of pride enter and scream to take over? When would he realize he was being a pansy by letting another man spank him?

Shit. He hated when the dark thoughts entered his mind.

Behind him, the door creaked. Jordan bowed his head. Did Simon expect him to show respect that way? Or should he drop to the floor on his knees? Was Simon even behind him?

“You’re quite colorful.” Simon placed his hand on Jordan’s back. His breath warmed Jordan’s skin. “Soon, I’ll have you explain each marking.”

Oh? He’d never told anyone about the art—not all of it. Even his tattoo artist didn’t know the meaning of many of the images.

Simon stroked his fingers up and down Jordan’s spine. “Interesting.” He strolled around Jordan, giving Jordan a chance to look at him again. Instead of the tight black T-shirt, Simon wore a black tank top. He crouched in front of Jordan.

“I can see the wheels turning in your mind. You’re not sure what’s about to go down. You’re keeping yourself guarded in case you do something you believe is stupid.” He curled his fingers under Jordan’s chin, forcing him to look Simon in the eye. “When we play, I have rules. Rule one is no secrets. Tell me everything. If something feels good, bad, hurts, makes you mad, whatever, you tell me.”

“Yes, sir.” Was he supposed to call Simon by his name or sir?

“Rule two is how you will address me. In a scene, you will call me S. Out of a scene, you may use my name.”
“Yes, S.”

“Good boy.”

Boy?

“Rule three is the boundaries. I will abide by your boundaries, but I reserve the right to push you when I feel you’re ready. I am here to make you happy and give you the release you desire.”

“Yes, S.”

“Rule number four concerns trust. I need your total trust. I respect you and will do my best to give you what you need. You must trust me that if I push, I’m doing it for a reason, not out of some perverse pleasure. You control what we do and when. Understand?”

“Yes, S.” Actually, he wasn’t sure he got what Simon meant. He’d been under the impression that the Dom ran the show. According to what Simon had said, the control was more or less in Jordan’s hands.

“You don’t look convinced.” Simon swiped his thumb across Jordan’s bottom lip. “If you use your safe word, we’ll stop. I respect you and your wishes. If you can handle offering up your control to me, I offer up mine to you, as well.”

“Thank you, S.” Jordan shivered. At least, he’d found a man who wanted to play equal. “What’s my safe word?”

“String bean.” A smile twitched on Simon’s lips. “Do you wish to back out?”

“Not a chance.” Hell, being under Simon’s care seemed like the most natural thing in the world. “I accept, and I’m grateful. Thank you, S.”

“Now, we’ll begin.”