Seductive Studs ~ Gryffon Hall

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Welcome to my blog and another steamy round of Seductive Studs.  This week I’m succumbing to WIP love and sharing from the story that is currently my everything. Still shiny and new, I’m having a lot of fun with this twisted fairy tale, working title Gryffon Hall.

After watching his betrothed-to-be, Lennox Asburry, flirting with someone else, Wryler succumbs to jealousy and too much wine, and accidentally flirts a bit himself with the mysterious visitor, Lord Rouchet of Gryffon Hall.  He’s about to suffer/enjoy the consequences.

***

Wyler squinted up a velvet sky recently cleared of clouds. It would be a good night for peering through his telescope, if only the stars would stop swarming about so.

“Lovely night after so much rain.”

Wryler snapped his chin down and stood up straight. The voice had come from the shadows toward the stables, along with the sloshing of boots through puddles. With a few more strides Aeric Rouchet emerged from the gloom, that damnable grin on his face.

“Yes. Quite,” Wryler said, “The dining hall got so hot.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Rouchet kept walking and Wryler feared he might plow straight into him. He braced himself for impact but Rouchet stopped a few inches shy of contact. “The fresh air is bracing, but it hasn’t done much to cool the flush in your cheeks.”

“It’s a curse. The blushing,” Wryler said, and damn if his blood didn’t flame even hotter.

“I find it quite becoming.” Rouchet rested his palm against the wall next to Wryler’s head and leaned in. “Is it only the quest for fresh air that keeps you from your cozy bed, Sir Wryler?”

“Yes. What else would it…would I…?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I noticed the young Mr. Arsburry giving you the eye all night.”

“Him?” Wryler snorted. “There’s nothing going on between us, I assure you.”

“Glad to hear it. I thought perhaps you were looking for company.”

“I weren’t. I wasn’t.” Accursed wine!

“But now?” Rouchet placed a finger under Wryler’s chin and lifted it slightly. His looming presence enveloped Wryler in warmth and the musky smell of leather. Rouchet blocked out the sky, the stars replaced by his gleaming eyes. Wryler shrank back against the wall. He wasn’t being held in place, but he might as well have been. He couldn’t move, and didn’t much want to.

***

For more juicy M/M goodness, don’t forget to check out the rest of the hop at www.seductivestuds.blogspot.com

 

My Sexy Saturday ~ Matthias

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It’s My Sexy Saturday time again!  The theme this week is Our Sexy Boy (or Girl) and I’ve decided to share seven paragraphs from my work in progress, code name Matthias.  In this scene, Dylan, a reporter who’s trying to get the dirt on the successful and reclusive Matthias Krall, meets him face to face for the first time since they were in college together, ten years earlier.  He’s been chatting with one of Matthias’ handsome minions, Terrance, who was in the process of hitting on Dylan.

***

Dylan looked away, fiddling with his glass again, thumbing away the condensation, wondering how to steer the conversation back to safer water. He was saved by the soft swoosh of the door opening.

He almost dropped the glass when none other than Matthias Krall walked in, casually dressed in black jeans and soft-looking black shirt. Terrance sprang to his feet and moved around the table, hands out.

“Matthias.” His grin could have lit up Safeco field all on its own.

“Terrance.” Matthias’s smile wasn’t near the wattage of Terrance’s, but the look in his eye was one of extreme pleasure. He took Terrance’s hands into his own. “Good to see you.”

Damn, his words carried weight. What might have been a throw away greeting from anyone else sounded like divine absolution on Matthias’ lips. Dylan felt invisible as the two men shared some sort of silent bond. Terrance was dead wrong about that. Matthias did believe in emotional bondage, only to him alone.

Dylan took a quick gulp of water, grateful for the respite that gave him a chance to absorb Matthias’ presence before having to interact with him. Matthias was, of course, handsome beyond reason, the years having refined and chiseled his aristocratic features rather than soften them. His crystal blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, set off by his dark complexion and raven black hair. He was as lean and powerful looking as ever, maybe more so. His jeans fit perfectly. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing a thin copper bracelet on each wrist. Dylan was a sucker for bling that accentuated the elegant lines of the masculine form.

He swallowed hard and worked on crafting the neutral, slightly wide-eyed and innocent expression that had served him so well in the past. People were only too willing to believe a certain dullness on the part of a too-pretty writer, as Dylan had been called more often than he cared to recall. But would Matthias believe it?

***

Don’t forget to continue the hop at My Sexy Saturday, where a great group of writers share sexy, sweet, steamy snippets in seven words, sentences or paragraphs.

Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Never Saw Him

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Welcome to another exciting edition of  Weekend Writing Warriors.  Well, I was supposed to start on the promo for my release coming up in January, but then I realized I was ONE snippet away from finishing Chapter 2 of From Mars, With Love.  I know, it seems like we should be much farther along, but at ten sentences a pop, it takes a while.

Last week Eli finally found out he’s not being returned to Earth by his rescuers, but dumped at the unwelcoming outpost on Mars, which was definitely not on his to-visit list.

***

The man in black still stood there, pausing as if mildly interested in Eli’s plight. He shrugged and nearly smiled.

“Good luck with that,” he said, and sauntered past. Eli stared after him, taking deep breaths and calming himself before he said something unfortunate to the well-armed marine.

“Who is that, anyway?” he asked her.

“You never saw him,” she said, looking at Eli with a stern, don’t-mess-with-me expression. “I mean it, you never saw him, ’cause if you did, you might require a memory sweep, got it?”

“Never saw who?” Never saw him. As if Eli could ever erase the memory of those luminous blue-eyes.

***

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How is it I’ve managed to overlook this motherlode of hunky space guys with guns? SG-Universe – my kind of show.

From Mars, With Love follows the adventures of Eli and his pal Rilke, two down-and-out scavengers from earth as they’re abducted by slavers, arrested by space marines, and dumped on an unwelcoming outpost on Mars. Eli’s troubles are only beginning when he finds out the ring his mother gave him contains the life force of a powerful but dormant alien and the mysterious man he has a huge crush on happens to be an alien artifact smuggler.  Eli’s just trying to make it on Mars, but can he survive the dangerous political intrigue swirling around him? This erotic space opera is a work-in-progress. Stay tuned to this blog for ongoing excerpts and updates.

***

This post is part of an ongoing blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. Every Sunday, participating authors post eight to ten sentences from a published work or perhaps their current work in progress. Then we hop to our fellow warriors’ blogs and check out all the fabulous fiction that’s happening! I heartily invite you to participate as a reader, writer, or both. It’s a great way to discover your next favorite book. Click here or use the address: http://www.wewriwa.com

 

Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Classified

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, the best place on the inter-web to discover your next favorite book.

Well, my little NaNoWriMo dreams have already burned up in the flames of reality, but as usual it’s due to good things. I’ve received the first round of edits for Curse of Salar, which means the release date is scary soon! Plus, I’ve signed on for a project with a February deadline, so…poor Eli is going to be stuck with the space marines for a while longer. Maybe I’ll end up publishing the whole story in snippets.

Last week, after an exchange of insults, Eli told the man in black about the other slave ship in the hopes the other captives might be rescued.  This excerpt is from my space-opera-in-progress, From Mars, With Love.

***

The man in black didn’t seem upset about being called a habi-brat. Maybe he’d never even heard the slang, having never set his sanitized feet on the ground.

Eli caught up with the closest marine and grabbed his arm. This earned Eli a smack to the chest that sent him stumbling backwards.

The marine’s voice crackled out of the mic in his helmet, “I heard what you said about the sweeper. I’ll mic it up to Con, but don’t hold your breath; we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Aren’t you supposed to stop slavers?” Eli demanded.

“Yeah, but we’ve got a report on alien smuggling earthside and—”

“That’s classified,” the man in black said sharply. The marine shut up and hurried away.

***

EUREKA -- Episode 505 "Jack of All Trades" -- Pictured: (l-r) Colin Ferguson as Sheriff Jack Carter, Salli Richardson-Whitfield as Allison Blake -- (Photo by: David Gray/Syfy)

I don’t know about you, but I miss all the fun-loving end-of-the-world disasters Colin Ferguson narrowly averted every week on Eureka. (Photo by: David Gray/Syfy)

***

This post is part of an ongoing blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. Every Sunday, participating authors post eight to ten sentences from a published work or perhaps their current work in progress. Then we hop to our fellow warriors’ blogs and check out all the fabulous fiction that’s happening! I heartily invite you to participate as a reader, writer, or both. It’s a great way to discover your next favorite book. Click here or use the address: http://www.wewriwa.com

Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Tell It To The Marines

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors!  This week I’m back to the adventures of Eli, otherwise known as From Mars, With Love, my space opera in progress.  Maybe with help of NaNoWriMo it will stop being in-progress and start being in submission. One can only hope.

When we last left Eli he’d been rescued by the mysterious man in black and the space marines.  Mystery man made an off-hand comment about how careless Eli must have been to be captured by a slave ship.  Eli takes offense.

***

“Careless? What the fuck do you know about it, habi-brat? Have you ever seen one of those sweepers? They’re bigger than a city–” Eli broke off as thoughts more important than his pride crowded to the forefront. “Hey, the sweeper might still be in the vicinity. They abducted a hell of a lot more people than are in this cruiser. It’s deep space capable so I bet it hasn’t reached launch speed yet. You can still save them!”

“Tell it to the marines,” the man in black said, “I’m only along for the ride.”

***

rahul kohli with gun

Rahul Kohli of iZombie, is not taking his gun-weilding responsibilities seriously.

***

This post is part of an ongoing blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. Every Sunday, participating authors post eight to ten sentences from a published work or perhaps their current work in progress. Then we hop to our fellow warriors’ blogs and check out all the fabulous fiction that’s happening! I heartily invite you to participate as a reader, writer, or both. It’s a great way to discover your next favorite book. Click here or use the address: http://www.wewriwa.com

My Sexy Saturday ~ Never Him

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Happy Sexy  Saturday! It’s been way too long since I played, but wow, what a crazy October I had.  Anyway, I’m glad to be back.  At first I thought I didn’t have anything that quite fit this week’s theme “While you were sexy” which is a play on the movie “While You Were Sleeping”. Then I remember this little tidbit from a story of mine that was supposed to be a flash piece but rapidly morphed into a novella.

Drummond Alloway is a supporting character from To Catch a Threeve.  I always wanted to give him his own story.  Here’s the snippet in 7 paragraphs:

~~~

“Bloody Boulders of Briggar,” Drummond muttered. What was the crown prince doing wandering about alone at night? Prince Tyran had overseen the opening solstice festivities with his usual contemptuous expression firmly in place, withdrawing in boredom hours ago. Had he snuck back out to participate in the common people’s lewd celebrations? The thought made Drummond’s breeches uncomfortably tight in the groin area. The thought of grabbing the severely underdressed princeling and giving him a bit of common discipline brought a rush of heat to Drummond’s face.

“Oh, no. Not him. Never him,” Drummond pleaded with the unfamiliar sensations taking control of his body. Tyran was a typical noble; snooty, spoiled, self-absorbed and irritatingly sharp of tongue. That he was beautiful only added to his disturbing personality.

“Men are not beautiful,” Drummond said to the prince’s back. “They are brick shaped ogres like me, or they are fey, flighty creatures like this here…” It was no good. Drummond considered leaving the prince to his nocturnal gadabout, but by now it was obvious Tyran was either sleep walking or in a trance.  This was confirmed when the prince walked into the icy river without slowing. He’d chosen a place where the water was deep and the current swift. He waded in, rapidly up to his waist.

Drummond lunged after him, catching Tyran by an arm just as he was about to vanish beneath the surface. Drummond wasn’t much of a swimmer, particularly not when fully dressed in leather doublet, wool tunic, breeches and weighted down with sword and sheath on a thick belt. Prince Tyran kept trying to move forward and they both ended up under water, Drummond’s arms wrapped around the prince’s waist, his bulk pushing him deeper instead of rescuing him as he’d intended. He struggled to find purchase on the rocky bottom and burst to the surface, bringing the prince along with him.

The prince awakened from his trance spitting, thrashing and flailing.  “Where am I? What are you…? Help! Help! I’m being murdered!”

“Oh, shut up.  I’m saving your silly ass, Your Highness!”

Despite the thrashing bundle of muscles in his arms, Drummond managed to drag the prince out of the water and collapse with him in the shallows along the shore. As soon as Drummond relaxed his grip, Tyran scrambled away on all fours, coughing and cursing. Drummond couldn’t help but observe the tight royal ass flex and ripple as the sodden fabric of his nightshirt clung to every curve and crevice.  This is my reward for saving it, Drummond thought, giving in to the small pleasure now the prince was out of danger.

~~~

Poor Drummond.  If only he could find a nice boy to settle down with.

Don’t forget to continue the Sexy Saturday hop.  There’s a lot of sexy snippets out there for your enjoyment, only a click away.