tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21561173662741035072024-03-14T09:28:22.150-05:00The Story OrgyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger57125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-29551657241750418802014-01-01T14:56:00.004-06:002014-01-01T14:56:56.211-06:00We're Back!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-41467528817019073522013-12-09T11:54:00.000-06:002013-12-09T11:54:25.030-06:00Three sets of Story Orgy Singles<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">We've got goodies for you this week...whoop whoop :)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Last year we asked for holiday prompt suggestions from our freaking awesome readers and with them put together 3 short flashes...as it was these were the last things we posted on Monday before we took a bow and some much needed time off...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, it's been a year and we thought what a good way to celebrate this holiday season...by combining those 3 short flashes into our own Story Orgy Singles!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Let me tell you, it was a blast going over those shorts again and remembering the good times and some of the amazingly eye-popping <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">holiday</b> prompts that were sent in...*cough cough* <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">escapee from a psychiatric facility</i> *cough cough*...putting them together and behind one of the best covers available! *kisses on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Startled Monkeys Media</i></b> <3*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">So, join us in celebrating the holiday season and pick yourself up some tempting flashes from your Story Orgy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67TUmbNbb2RGHHTXvyJ0JyijIyU2tdX8NuNm06J0m1B5H8xU580fWnsBUPyLNb4_FgEnvePxQxfSK7kTpU1oRBzrhyphenhyphenydSW5QZjHxpTSXHO5P9ok6L8pLt59DIpb9zQO4cAlaVp-6lb52I/s1600/1369504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67TUmbNbb2RGHHTXvyJ0JyijIyU2tdX8NuNm06J0m1B5H8xU580fWnsBUPyLNb4_FgEnvePxQxfSK7kTpU1oRBzrhyphenhyphenydSW5QZjHxpTSXHO5P9ok6L8pLt59DIpb9zQO4cAlaVp-6lb52I/s1600/1369504.jpg" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Hank Edwards</span></b><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> knows how to put you in the mood...and not just the holiday mood *winks* <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A Gift for Greg<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Stripper Claus<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Light your yuletide log and spike your eggnog, Hank Edwards has three Holiday themed flash fiction stories that will put some Christmas in your carols this season. Take a seat by the fire and read about unexpected reunions, cowboys getting back in the saddle... with each other, and a hot—and flexible—mall Santa!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Available @ <u><em><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-agiftforgreg-1369504-340.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">ARe</span></a></em></u> & <u><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Greg-Story-Orgy-Single-ebook/dp/B00H5VZ1XI/ref=la_B001K8LRRG_1_22?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386598362&sr=1-22" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">Amazon<o:p></o:p></span></a></em></u></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa3KeqPdjBT42pK3R5zd7VF2Gp_S4ncjbxb2Ch-aOhvizfG9BlYyDBEDyIsul5mUQ0MFgdYt4A5F8GsyeaYtUL0DIxU5sWpTAa3GY2BUIeuY7f0-QX5V4tYR50mPzbG6vESFvnfMm412O/s1600/1369528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa3KeqPdjBT42pK3R5zd7VF2Gp_S4ncjbxb2Ch-aOhvizfG9BlYyDBEDyIsul5mUQ0MFgdYt4A5F8GsyeaYtUL0DIxU5sWpTAa3GY2BUIeuY7f0-QX5V4tYR50mPzbG6vESFvnfMm412O/s1600/1369528.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lee Brazil</b> is a must have year round...but when the weather turns cooler and the mistletoe is in abundance I especially can't help reaching for him to keep me warm and toasty...*sighs*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">By Design<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt;">A ghostly visit on Christmas Eve points grieving Kyle in a new direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">For All Eternity<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt;">When a shopping mall elf is touched by a joyless child, a connection is forged that lasts a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">Wearing His Ring<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Detective Grant Hammond spends Christmas at a hot springs hotel with his lover, JT, who is determined to celebrate the old fashioned way, popcorn garland and all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Available @ <u><em><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-bydesign-1369528-166.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">ARe</span></a></em></u> & <u><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Design-Lee-Brazil-ebook/dp/B00H6AUFFM/ref=la_B0049WSOVM_1_48?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386597473&sr=1-48" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">Amazon<o:p></o:p></span></a></em></u></span></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2sXtBOZvF-2cd9EoPsinYayL-cfj5Y9EWXoQYnWq5pfZox3NHPS7jfRrBBUBEmiKkwgfh74YEuZcFgbryFWBP39QB8OuOLYdUD3j_Eyl0b55b1ZY3KIvOPLrLWG58a5pI2kJDm3hnXhF/s1600/Havan_xmas_2013_200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_424664="null" dua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2sXtBOZvF-2cd9EoPsinYayL-cfj5Y9EWXoQYnWq5pfZox3NHPS7jfRrBBUBEmiKkwgfh74YEuZcFgbryFWBP39QB8OuOLYdUD3j_Eyl0b55b1ZY3KIvOPLrLWG58a5pI2kJDm3hnXhF/s1600/Havan_xmas_2013_200x300.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And then there is lil ol' moi...*curtsies*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">um...*whispers* <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Havan Fellows</b> ;)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">Melting Jack Frost<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt;">When Jack Frost is not happy that means no white Christmas for anyone. Parker Pendle, Jack's lover and Santa's head elf, is determined to put the snowflakes back in the air, and more importantly, back in his lover's eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">Meds N' Mistletoe<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt;">Michel's life was stolen from him when his boyfriend fraudulently committed him to a mental institution with aspirations of stealing his trust fund. Now, Michel is on the run after breaking out. A twig of mistletoe and a kiss from a stranger might be the key to showing Michel that he didn't lose the best things in his life this holiday season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 16pt;">Secret Needs<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">When you step through the doors of the Sanctuary, your desires are never truly hidden. Brant learns this lesson when the sexy man in the corner decides to be his personal secret Santa and prove he can satisfy those secret needs.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Available @ <u><em><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-meltingjackfrost-1369532-166.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">ARe</span></a></em></u> & <u><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Melting-Jack-Frost-Havan-Fellows-ebook/dp/B00H6LS7SI/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386598431&sr=1-1&keywords=melting+jack+frost" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">Amazon</span></a></em></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #006c31; font-family: 'Book Antiqua','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><u><em><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=series&qString=Story+Orgy+Single" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">Don't forget to check out all of our Story Orgy Singles</span></a></em></u></span></span></div>
Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-46956111652180626902013-11-04T05:00:00.000-06:002013-11-04T05:00:00.548-06:00Finding that hourGood Monday morning friends! Hank here, wishing you a happy November!<br />
<br />
Did you all set your clocks back an hour? Did you enjoy some extra sleep, or did you stay up even later trying to squeeze in just a little bit more of whatever you needed to do before the Sandman came around?<br />
<br />
Yeah, me too.<br />
<br />
Either way, it's the beginning of November (holy crap!) and we're on that slippery slope that leads straight into the holiday season.<br />
<br />
So before all that crazy starts up, I'm going to share with you a love poem.<br />
<br />
Oh, wipe that shocked look off your faces. Yes, I'm not all paranormal and terrifying and clumsy slap-stick humor, I can be sweet and loving as well. Sometimes. Well, now and then.<br />
<br />
Anyway... This is a poem I wrote many, many years ago. It's a love poem, yes, but a different kind of love poem (yeah, okay, I can be sweet and loving, but, hey, it's me, so you knew there'd be a catch, right?). I've posted it before on Facebook and my own blog, and I'm going to share it here with our Story Orgy friends.<br />
<br />
Happy November, don't forget to vote tomorrow, and set your sights on Thanksgiving, it's only a month away. Yeeehaw!<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Counting Days</h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ah, my love, I miss you so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am lethargic and dull </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">since you last left my side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It feels as if you have been gone for years </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">and I wonder where you spend your time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I spend mine counting the days until you return</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And we can linger in bed,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">reacquainting ourselves as old loves do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I know you will be back, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">you always return to blow the</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">breath of life through me,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">awaken my body, sharpen my mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh, how I pine for you, love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">wait impatiently for your arrival.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I look forward to falling back </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">into our old, comfortable rhythms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Return to me, my dearest,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">my one true love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">my Eastern Standard Time.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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-Hank Edwards</div>
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October 2002 </div>
Hankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-87350084648717092672013-10-30T23:24:00.001-05:002013-10-30T23:24:25.248-05:00Samhain Reflections & Author's Pride...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzca7N4Uw-dsOrwDYUDcymGzVBUc4S9UPOoUpcFs4K-2amUei76kqGqRtXMqzHt-A5G88JUlVKsCf5Y8fQXqR0sy9HER-RTXZzJuw-Dj5y7IWvPSJGKGvLccuuHuIIIl-bng3VE3dVjQ/s1600/Louie's+Batty+Pumpkin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzca7N4Uw-dsOrwDYUDcymGzVBUc4S9UPOoUpcFs4K-2amUei76kqGqRtXMqzHt-A5G88JUlVKsCf5Y8fQXqR0sy9HER-RTXZzJuw-Dj5y7IWvPSJGKGvLccuuHuIIIl-bng3VE3dVjQ/s320/Louie's+Batty+Pumpkin.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Happy Samhain...</b></span><b style="color: orange; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy Hallow's Eve...</b><b style="color: orange; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy Halloween!</b></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"> (yes, that is one of my kiddos' pumpkins. lol)</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Have you all carved your pumpkins? Bought your candy?
Decorated your windows and primed your porch light? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Good! Me too. ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">**serious blog transition alert**</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And if that doesn't surprise you, maybe this will: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While I was doing
all the busy-bee things this week like party planning, karate classes and
traveling for work...I took a few minutes to contemplate the season and its
meaning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Samhain is a Pagan holiday celebrated with as much reverence as
Christmas is for Christians. We look around us, taking in the sights and smells
of Fall turning to Winter, enjoying the reminder that the goddess is both the supplier
of life and bringer of death. We understand that the Samhain is the beginning
of shorter days, longer nights. And we understand that it doesn't only apply to
the trees and flowers. It applies to us as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I looked back over the previous year at what I had
accomplished, how I had grown. Turns out not much, writing wise. I had a couple of releases with my publisher but I
haven't been consistent, and I haven't kept on top of promo like I should have.
However, even despite my quiet year as an author, my big achievement came
in my personal life when I finally admitted this year that since my youngest
was born, I've had issues with controlling my moods. PMDD they call it. (Think
PMS x's 10). I'm on medication for that, and now my family is back in the
forefront of my existence as they should be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I admit I have struggled to gain perspective in other areas - I have let
down my friends and fans, my fellow writers, those who are aspiring writers and
asked for help. I have let myself down. Not completely. But enough. I developed
what I think of as "Author's Pride" - that frame of mind where you
are a wonder in your own eye, can only go up (ha!), and have lost sight of what
else is important. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like learning about the <i>craft</i> of writing. Becoming a better
author, person, friend, mentor. Apologizing for those letdowns. Receiving inspiration. Giving back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a result, the storytelling in my head went quiet for a while. A
long while. Only now is it beginning to rumble back to life, now that I've
settled some and can see that I was my own obstacle. Once again I have projects
in the "pot", simmering, coming to a boil...like a great recipe,
waiting for the moment for all the components to gel together into one amazing
dish. Into a great story that people can't wait to read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's close. I can feel it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because on Samhain it is always best to remember that though
the goddess has ushered in the final season, has shown her willingness to wither
the beautiful things we see during Spring and Summer...she also is a wonderful
deity who shows her power with regeneration and rebirth. Resilience and
fortitude. Love and hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, after all, isn't that the perfect recipe
for romance?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*Hugs* to all. Have a safe Halloween and save the Dots for me. ;)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~Em</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-47037078271723271212013-10-21T05:50:00.001-05:002013-10-21T05:50:44.774-05:00No flashing or dirt this time, but a new release on the horizon...<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">So I wasn't sure what I should blog about today – Hank wanted me to do a
flash and a whole buncha people wanted the dirt on my fellow SO
writers...hehe...but then a most wise and handsome person (um...that would be
Lee *winks*) reminded me that *head thumps* Duh! You have a release coming out
this week by the name of Judging Jude!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Not sure if ya'll remember a little story I did with the Monday
prompts...started it in January of 2012...and now it is finally finished and
coming to you hopefully *crosses fingers...toes...and legs* wow—that's a new
experience for me...hopefully coming out this week!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">So here is a snippet (hey Hank...it is close to a flash...lol) and I
promise the next time I'm up on the blog I will bring you updates on all your
fave writers...I love digging around in their drawers for info...um...*looks
around and winks* oh yeah... :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">So without any further
delay<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">...for your reading
pleasure...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Judging Jude<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Happy fucking New Year to me," Judas mumbled to the
empty apartment. He plopped down on his leather sofa, a rip in the material
stabbing at his skin, again. "Son of a bitch!" He popped back up and
grabbed the dark green duct tape from a water-warped hutch's drawer. He had
bought the durable tape specifically for this purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Judas put the roll on his wrist like a bracelet and ripped
a length off, mending the dilapidated furniture. When finished, he tossed the
roll to the ground and surveyed his work. The duct tape was becoming more
prominent on the couch than the leather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Sighing, he took his place back on the sofa and reached
under it for the flat, sandwich-shaped plastic container he kept his smoking
accessories in. He should probably grab the want ads and circle job offers with
his trusty red pen, but what for? He wasn't qualified for anything, and his
present job, though shitty as it was, at least kept his pipe filled with spice and,
oh yeah, a leaky roof over his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">You would think working at a doctor's office would be cool
and profitable. Yeah, not if you cleaned the exam rooms and toted out the
garbage. Sure, they let him keep his piercings in—both ears and an eyebrow—and they
didn't give him a hard time about his tats—namely because they were good tats,
not that shit that people get from a hack or when they're drunk...but, he only made
a whole two bucks over minimum wage. At just under thirty hours a week, Jude smoked
that up faster than his checks got cashed. No, the real money landed in the job's
fringe benefits. It amazed Jude how much people would pay for a few blank
prescription papers with the doc's signature stamp on them. He never took a
whole pad; they were always locked up anyway. But between the three doctors, Jude
could walk out of there on a good day with at least a couple dozen ripped off pages.
Getting them stamped proved the easy part, none of the doctors locked their
desk drawers during the business day, and it was his job to clean the offices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">That plus the free samples he pocketed on the rare occasion
those cabinets weren't shut down tight and he just barely got by. He might have
been a thief, but he played it cool and careful like. He never went after
anything they kept strict count on; the records for the free samples were never
up-to-date. The pads were inventoried, but once a doctor pulled one out, the
papers on that pad were fair game.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">He packed his pipe with the last of his <i>Mr. Swell Guy</i> spice and took a hit,
grimacing when it burned going down. He still preferred the real deal to this
crap, but at least this crap was legal right now and didn't show up on drug
tests. Well, legal to buy, but illegal to smoke—he never understood how that
worked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Placing the pipe to his lips, he flicked his lighter and
inhaled deeply. A banging on his apartment door caused him to jump while
simultaneously hacking on the smoke as he dropped the pipe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"What the fuck?" he mumbled, then coughed out as
loud as he could, "Go the fuck away!" Not a person on this planet
existed that he wanted to see right now. Hell, there wasn't anyone he wanted to
see later either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Open the fucking door, or I'll knock it in. And,
Jude, you know I will!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">The universe hated him, he realized as he listened to his
ex-best friend's voice growling on the other side of the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Go the fuck away, Wally! I thought I told you I
didn't want to fucking see you around here anymore!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Louder banging this time. Jude could actually see the door
bowing in its frame. "Damn cheap-ass building." He quickly threw
everything back in the plastic container, cringing at the last of his spice
that spilled out of his pipe to imbed itself in the stained old carpet. He
wouldn't be able to make any money for another four days to get more, and even
then only if he could snag some script papers from work and contact his buyer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"I'm not leaving, so you might as well open this door,
or you could let your neighbors call the cops on me and deal with that mess,"
Wally shouted to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"I'm coming, you big oaf!" He snapped the
container shut and tossed it under the couch, then placed a dingy throw pillow
on the spice dusted carpet with plans to pick it out after he got rid of his
unwanted guest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Don't try to sweet talk me. Now, open this damn
door!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Hardy har har, asshole." Judas unbolted the door
and swung it open. "Didn't I tell you to take a fucking hike the last time
you sniffed around here?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">His back slammed against the wall as Wally pushed past him
and surveyed the room, inhaling deeply. "Christ's sake, Jude. You work in
a doctor's office, you should know better than to smoke that shit."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"You ain't my mother. What the fuck you doing here
anyway? It's New Year's Eve, don't you have a party to go to or something?"
Jude noted the flat-front chinos, blue pin dot button down shirt, and leather
bomber jacket. Oh yeah, this would be a short visit. Wally definitely had his
prowling clothes on tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Yep, so that's what you're wearing?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Jude shook his head. "Huh? I ain't going nowhere with
you." To cement his point, he walked to the fridge in his studio apartment
and grabbed a can of beer, popping the top then drinking half of it down in one
swig. "Ahh."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"That's impressive; you gonna flex and belch next? You
have two choices here. You either get changed into what you want to wear or you
go with me in those stained, frayed jeans and tank. Do I need to remind you
that it's forty degrees outside and those jeans passed sexy five holes
ago?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Wally walked his way. At six feet three inches, he beat Jude's
own five-nine on the formidability scale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"You want to test my word, Judas? Give your neighbors
a show while I drag your ass out to my car? Twenty bucks says not a one of them
will interfere because that would mean they would have to talk to the cops. We
both know no one who lives here would openly volunteer for that."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Jude backed up until his ass hit the counter. "You
just said they would call the cops if you kept banging on my door." He
pointed out Wally's contradiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Wally shrugged and stopped only inches from him. "You
opened the door, didn't you? Sue me for lying. Now, what's your choice?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Why's it so important to you? We aren't even friends
anymore."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">Wally grabbed him by his shoulders, jerked him around, and
pushed him toward his closet. "Much to your dismay, dipshit, I'll always
be your best friend. I'm not the type to just ditch someone because he wants to
flush his life away. Now change into something nice; it's New Year’s! Tonight's
the beginning of the rest of your life."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"Whatever. But I was just gonna hang out here for New Year’s
and bum around."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #215868; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">"And that is why you need to get your ass out of this
godforsaken place."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-60036519588221890242013-10-07T06:14:00.000-05:002013-10-07T06:14:04.215-05:00Ready for a tease? Good morning Story Orgy readers! Lee here today. Hope this Monday finds you all well and warding off the chill! Brr. It's a nippy out there today! I've got a fresh pot of coffee and a newly baked batch of muffins, sit down and stay a spell. The good news is, our latest anthology is up on the coming soon page at Total E Bound! Check it out <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2411">HERE</a>. These are five awesome stories based on songs that readers suggested to us back in November, about a year ago. We're all really excited to see what you think of our efforts, and this time around, as you can see, we've mixed it up some by adding Silvia Violet and Angel Martinez to join us.<br />
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This morning I've got bit of a flash for you- or really, probably I'd best call it a tease, since it might just grow into something more.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 24px;">Insomnia </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 24px;">copyright 2013 Lee Brazil</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> "I
can't sleep." Zeke yawned and belatedly covered his mouth with his hand as
he noticed his host's eyes narrowing. Of course, his modesty would have been better
served clutching his shirt closed over his thong underwear, but since he
couldn't sleep…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Maybe,"
Frosty disapproval echoed in Jordan's voice and his eyes were cold enough Zeke
had to resist the urge to shiver. "You're just used to having someone else
in bed with you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And
now he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his best friend's big
brother's prudish attitude. "I don't think that's the problem, Jordy. I
sleep alone plenty." Where the hell had Jordan McIntosh gotten the idea he
was some sort of slut anyway? "I"m not a slut; I just play one on tv." The insouciance of his tone pleased him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"You
forget I had the pleasure of being your next door neighbor for three
years," Jordan's lips curled in a sneer. "The parade of men in and
out of your door…"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Blinking,
Zeke sipped the whisky in his tumbler and remembered those days. During
college, he and Perry had lived in a duplex that Perry's parents owned. The
unit next to theirs had been occupied by Perry's older brother Jordan, who had
been ordered by his father to keep an eye on the young boys and keep them out
of trouble. "That wasn't just my door." He pointed out calmly. He could
say more, but the truth of the matter was that if Perry hadn't told his brother
about his gay adventures during their years of schooling, then it certainly wasn't
Zeke's place to do it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Oh,
right. Perry is straight, or have you forgotten he's getting married next
weekend? Which is why you," This was accompanied by a derisive, assessing glance
that left Zeke's skin tingling, "are sleeping, alone, in my guest
room."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Whatever.
I can't sleep because I'm too keyed up. It's been a hell of a week. I thought a
drink might help, but you're right. A good fuck might turn the same trick. Are you
offering?" He threw the last bit in just for shits and grins, and because
he was annoyed with his friend's brother's judgmental attitude. Not like he
didn't know damn well that Jordan McIntosh had been promiscuity itself until an
HIV scare in his last year of college had reformed his habits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">""I'll
pass. I’m not desperate enough for release to fuck just anyone." His
distaste was clear in the way his head lifted and his nostrils flared. <i>Or was it?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Zeke
set his tumbler down and stretched his arms over his head, relishing the relief
to his tense muscles as much as the flutter of Jordan's nostrils and the white
line that bracketed his mouth. Smiling the sexy smile that made a million
hearts throb on his daytime soap opera, he couldn’t resist teasing a little
more. "But Jordy, Perry swore you'd take care of me." He let his lashes
flutter, peeked at the six foot mountain of stoke broker in front of him from
under them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And
found himself crushed between the marble counter top and what had to be at
least two hundred pounds of hot, hard muscle. This time his eyes closed for
real and he dragged in a breath, trying to jumpstart his heart after the
foolish organ stalled with the contact. "Fuck." He breathed, feeling a
branding iron of steely cock rubbing against his groin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"That's
all it would be, movie star." Hard hands closed on his shoulders. Jordan
bent forward, and Zeke retreated, leaning back, struggling to unpin his arms. The
movement brought their grins into even closer contact, and Zeke's cock made its
own preference for resolving the sleep issue with sex instead of alcohol clear.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Who
needs anything else?" He wormed his arms out of Jordan's embrace and made
the most of his freedom by wind his fingers in Jordan's thick, dark hair and
dragging his mouth down for a kiss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Jordan
jerked his head back with a wordless snarl. "No kissing. Kissing is for
lovers, and this is most definitely not going to be any of that romantic drivel
you put on for the world."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
nearly hysterical urge to laugh at that little bit of prunes and prisms was
overcome by dwelling on the fact that it made it sound like Jordan actually <i>watched</i> his show. "That's not me,
it's script writers. I can give up on the kissing, as long as it's only mouth
to mouth you're saying no to." He let his gaze drop, inventorying places
on that hard body he'd like to kiss. The man wore pajamas, for Christ sake,
silky green fabric that matched his eyes, clung to his body and did absolutely nothing
to conceal the length and breadth of his shoulders, the flatness of his belly,
or the mouthwatering stretch of cock tenting the fabric. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Yes…you
can kiss me anywhere else you like…" The sentence ended on a groan as Zeke
took immediate advantage of the permission, latching his lips onto the fabric
that covered Jordan's nipple. Dampening it with his tongue, he fancied he could
taste the man through the silk, and twisted his hips. His cock pulsed, and he
shuddered, liking the feel of the silk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"It
would be better…" Zeke pulled away, breathing hard, "naked." He
finished, sliding his hands under the silk and lifting. Jordan took over, stripping
the shirt over his head and tossing in on the black marble counter top. He
stepped back and holding Zeke's gaze, hooked his thumbs in the waist band of
the pajama pants. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Go
on," Jordan's voice had lowered, roughened, and the husky new tones conveyed
a desire that encouraged Zeke to shake off any doubts. Shaking his head, he shrugged
his shoulders and let his own shirt fall, leaving him standing in his thong
while Jordan looked him over hotly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pouting
slightly, he lifted a brow. "I'm still ahead of you here, McIntosh."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
pajama pants fell to a silken swirl around Jordan's feet and Zeke's gaze
followed them. He kept his glance there, trained on the pool while he got his breathing
under control. He was suave, debonair, a heart throb. He was experienced, this
wasn't his first time at the rodeo, or on stage, or up to bat or whatever
fucking metaphor you wanted to fill in the blank with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Just
because Jordan McIntosh had always been the unattainable fantasy, the image
he'd jerked off to for the first time at thirteen, the crush who'd never known
he was alive, was no reason to act like a virginal idiot. And he knew he'd
waited too long to look back up, because
Jordon was forcing his chin up, searching his eyes and all Zeke could do
was swallow and close his lids against the intrusion of that pale gold gaze, to
hide everything he shouldn't be feeling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Fuck."
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
kitchen door slammed, and Zeke crossed his arms protectively over his chest. <i>Fucking
whisky</i>. Now he'd never sleep. And, he'd be lucky if he didn't find himself
shuffled off to some hotel in the morning despite the way the press hounded him
at every sighting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sighing,
he tossed back the last of the whisky and returned to his guest room, lying on the
bed and feigning sleep when he heard footsteps in the hall outside his door.
The sound stopped, as though someone stood outside the door, then continued,
fading into the darkness, leaving him alone in a strange bed, with the fear
that had originally sent him to the kitchen, and a healthy dose of humiliation
in case that jittery someone's watching you feeling ever faded enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Hope you liked Jordan and Zeke- you might just be seeing more of them at a future date. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="line-height: 150%;"><b>Meanwhile, have you checked out my latest release? You can find Centurion, the latest in Pulp Friction's Heated Exchange line, at <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-centurion-1308294-157.html">All Romance eBooks</a> and other fine ebook retailers. </b></span></i></span></div>
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I be yours?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Centurion
Gaius Priscus has had his fill of war and death but knows no other life. When
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self-denial catch up to him in a blazing rush of need.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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the hardened warrior, tired of death and destruction, deny his captive's plea?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Thanks for dropping by! you all have a fabulous day, and we'll see you next week! Take care and stay warm! </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-50669010843389474582013-09-30T05:00:00.000-05:002013-09-30T05:00:07.843-05:00A Spooky Little Treat From Hank...Hi all!<br />
Hank Edwards here, wishing you a happy Monday and happy end of September. Ah, can you smell the crisp autumn air? See the leaves turning and dropping to the ground. Hear the quiet crunch of them underfoot as someone (something?) creeps among the trees at night...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeD903uQdTxxEHkW8L1zoe56i8fV6eccpT5M5_5Ny9xqA_CZNR5a7LnWjD-F8ZA8dBXjMGYzkCh-OuQJOkzTqTmUo_wKSwazR9FzGU101R3TVo1JW0XuCnQ54AjVZR4nfJwlV1pcRXvk/s1600/Stakes%2526Spurs200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeD903uQdTxxEHkW8L1zoe56i8fV6eccpT5M5_5Ny9xqA_CZNR5a7LnWjD-F8ZA8dBXjMGYzkCh-OuQJOkzTqTmUo_wKSwazR9FzGU101R3TVo1JW0XuCnQ54AjVZR4nfJwlV1pcRXvk/s1600/Stakes%2526Spurs200x300.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOT0_OA0Evisb60BAp08rZSMJABMZLvBJwjjtcyGbocDhrg3V2M6tHRwcKwSGRrYUla4ZnUTkxMhEH6hgDytcyGPDVCvVta6y6QDH_UzsAkQc1KLsnUC8nChSEPJPujpF9LGLFoWpQC0/s1600/VV1_C&V+200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOT0_OA0Evisb60BAp08rZSMJABMZLvBJwjjtcyGbocDhrg3V2M6tHRwcKwSGRrYUla4ZnUTkxMhEH6hgDytcyGPDVCvVta6y6QDH_UzsAkQc1KLsnUC8nChSEPJPujpF9LGLFoWpQC0/s1600/VV1_C&V+200x300.jpg" /></a>It's my turn here at the Story Orgy blog, and I decided to write up a <br />
new Flash Fiction sexy/spooky story for you. I'm currently reworking my very first Story Orgy story, <b><i>Wicked Reflection</i></b>, for the fine folks at <b>Loose Id Publishing</b>. It's going to be quite a bit different from its original form, so be sure to watch for a release date and all that on my Facebook page.<br />
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Also, for you <b>Venom Valley</b> fans, I submitted <i><b>Blood & Stone</b></i>, the third book in the series, a couple weeks ago and am awaiting the edits from Wilde City Press. No idea of a release date, yet, but I'm hoping it will be available before the end of the year. This series has been one wild ride and I think this book ties up lots of loose ends, but leaves it open for some return visits in the future.<br />
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Okay, so here's your flash fiction for today, inspired by the insanely huge and creepy nocturnal spider that has built
a web in the (thankfully) outside corner of my office window. I don't have a title yet, leave a comment if you think of one. And don't forget to call your mother.... you'll see what I mean once you read the story. Be good... leave the lights on.<br />
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Untitled Flash Fiction</h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Hank Edwards</h3>
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Copyright 2013</h3>
"It's huge!" Dallas leaned closer and squinted. "Ugh! It's, like, bloated and filled with poison or something."<br />
<br />Rolf looked away from his laptop screen. "Don't get too close!"<br />
<br />Dallas glanced at him. "You scared of it?"<br />
<br />Rolf rolled his eyes as a blush burned across his cheeks. "What? No. It's just a spider."<br />
<br />Dallas looked back at the web. "Yeah, but it's the biggest spider I've ever seen. When did it show up?"<br />
<br />"It's always been there," Rolf muttered, and turned away. "Are we going to work on this project or not?"<br />
<br />Dallas stepped up behind Rolf and leaned in over his shoulder, reading what Rolf had written. "I like it. But it's a little stiff, don't you think?"<br />
<br />"Stiff?" Rolf repeated. He blinked rapidly, his heart rate accelerating at Dallas's proximity. "What do you mean stiff?"<br />
<br />
<br />"You know." Dallas straightened up. "Stiff. Like this."<br />
<br />He pressed the hardened bulge of his crotch against Rolf's shoulder. Rolf jumped and looked up at him, eyes wide behind his glasses. "What are you doing?"<br />
<br />"Come on, Rolf," Dallas said with a sly grin. "I know you like me. Let's take a break. I can't focus with a hard on."<br />
<br />
<br />"You… like me?" Rolf asked.<br />
<br />Dallas leaned down and kissed him. "Does that answer your question?" He took Rolf by the hand and led him to the single bed tucked into the corner. Another kiss stole Rolf's breath and he watched as Dallas unbuttoned his shirt. The man's chest was muscular and smooth, and Rolf ran his hands over the soft skin as they kissed. He pushed Dallas down onto the bed and dropped to his knees between his legs, fumbling with the button on Dallas's jeans.<br />
<br />"Easy there, Rolf," Dallas said with a chuckle. "You're all thumbs. Let me help."<br />
<br />Dallas's jeans hit the floor and Rolf stroked the thick shaft. He smiled up at Dallas before leaning in to run his tongue up the hot, salty length, then took it into his mouth. Rolf worked his mouth up and down Dallas's cock, picking up speed until, with a gasp, Dallas shot into his throat. Rolf slowed down then lifted his head to smile at Dallas who stared down at him with a dreamy expression.<br />
<br />"You were hungry," Dallas said.<br />
<br />"Mother's hungry, too," Rolf replied with a shrug. "Sorry."<br />
<br />
<br />Dallas frowned. "What?"<br />
<br />Rolf pushed up from his knees and stepped back from the bed, groping himself through his jeans. "Mother's hungry, too."<br />
<br />Dallas sat up and looked around the room, empty except for the two of them. "Why do you keep talking about your Mom? You're freaking me out."<br />
<br />Something brushed Dallas's shoulder and he jerked away, eyes widening as he saw the big spider hanging from the ceiling on a strand of web.<br />
<br />"Shit!" Dallas swung his hand around to swat the spider, but it clambered out of the way and jumped onto his shoulder, driving its fangs into the soft flesh.<br />
<br />As Dallas fell across the bed and lay shaking and foaming at the mouth, the spider crawled back and forth over him, leaving behind soft, strong silk. Rolf sat in his chair and watched his Mother at work, removing his glasses a moment to rub at his eyes, the four pupils in each iris clearly visible in his reflected image before he put the glasses back on and the lenses brought the pupils together.<br />
<br />"He was a nice one, wasn't he, Mother?" Rolf asked in a quiet voice. "He seemed like a nice one. Maybe one day I'll meet one I can keep for my own."<br />
<br />Rolf turned back to his laptop and resumed typing as his Mother went about her work.<br />
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~~ END ~~</div>
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I hope you enjoyed the story and your Monday treats you well. See you next time!<br />
-- HankHankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-44029650290767565182013-09-16T18:54:00.001-05:002013-09-16T19:09:18.034-05:00Guess who's babbling...<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">*runs in and slumps on the very stylish loveseat out of breath* eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek...I forgot it was my turn! That's okay...I'm here...it's all good...um I think...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Now what was I gonna talk about? *pats my pockets down looking for notecards...pats Hank and Em down too...just for shits and giggles*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">hehe...any excuse to grope right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Okay, back to business...what is happening on the Story Orgy front?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">New Releases! Em and I just had releases on Friday the 13th...oooooooooh *does spooky hands* But I don't think our releases are necessarily spooky...lol<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">And not to be outdone...Jade has been busy doing something very sexy in French for us *looks left then right* it's a secret that has to do with one of our anthologies and her native tongue...hehe...and JR is busy busy being all brilliant and smoking hot like only he can do <i>(did you catch that awesome <a href="http://thestoryorgy.blogspot.com/2013/09/jrs-here-with-spirited-heart.html?zx=8f00596d31345802" target="_blank">poem</a> he did last week? Well scroll down and love it!)</i>...Hank and Lee have been crazy busy themselves...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Hank is putting the finishing touches on his never ending 3rd book in the Venom Valley series—Blood & Stone—and yeah, he can make me pull my legs under me and hide under the blanket <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(well the monsters can't get you while you're under the blanket right?)</i>. He's put twists and turns in that bad boy that *looks behind me and over armrest of loveseat down at floor* did I mention I'm safe under the blanket?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">And Lee...oh boy can I tell you guys a secret? *leans forward and stage whispers* He's finally getting us the sequel to Loving Eden...Loving Bailey is due out in October and not to brag or anything...*looks around quickly*...but OMG OMG OMG is it freaking fantabulous! I'm telling you...read with plenty of ice on hand...the things Lee can do with words...*fans face*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-harper039sdiscovery-1294311-147.html?utm_content=buffer590eb&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=Buffer" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" isa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJekmbH0C8jJ6iM2qzBxxupVRpf71tmrfgtV803recqxXPSEZd9_-_pDhUjusehFgXBlWwKlqqSBwsWgecIUrai-Ddf17KUF2OZ4T2gxF441zXNotxyobT_cBi7-Ep0gClimOCs7Zr4Ua/s320/2303.jpg" width="193" /></a></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;"><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-harper039sdiscovery-1294311-147.html?utm_content=buffer590eb&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=Buffer" target="_blank">Harper's Discovery<o:p></o:p></a></span></i></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">When Harper finally sees the light and dumps his cheating boyfriend, can Pitt convince Harper to trust him enough to let it all go?</span></i><span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;"><br /><br />When Harper Evans discovers his boyfriend in yet another bar with yet another Joe, he makes the final break and kicks him out. More relieved than heartbroken, Harper turns his attention to the letter burning a hole in his pocket that could mean a fresh start across the country…if he has the nerve to pull the trigger.<br /><br />Pitt Mullen has been looking for exactly this opportunity with Harper. He doesn’t hesitate a second to pounce on it--and Harper--when it shows up. But not everything is as it appears. Harper is keeping secrets. Ones that make a closet submissive crazy with the need to let go.<br /><br />When Pitt gets a late night call and rushes to another, Harper is towed along in the wake of his hyperactive lover. He discovers that not all secrets are the cheating kind...and Pitt isn't the only male who can melt Harper's heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00F6BFSZ0/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=1535523722&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B00BWBENRM&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=0DPA85XKG5Q9RNZJB49J" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4Zmc8FOxmrepet_1ILiME8qHz1ZDVHlwtYdiLkOKY_O9VJkWpoTSLnLz1Dc6cw7b2bFjRx-Zruw-L3oItKk5u32hEyaX10yYf4d-IEgU_jsmli1AKXSYGoBK3ssFSF2-swYQcnO7X1c9/s320/WickedGuidance_400x600.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;"><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-wickedtruthswicked039sway5-1294314-152.html" target="_blank">Wicked Truths</a><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">A man from Wick's past knows Ned's secrets and is after their future…wicked truths are coming…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Wick Templeton is not dating Ned. At least that's his story—period. But when someone decides that Ned's time on earth is over, Wick doesn't bother with the semantics of it…his boyfriend is in danger and that's unacceptable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">What happens when the person targeting Ned just may be the only person Wick can't defend against?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Secrets are revealed, people are hurt, and a very shaky relationship is tested. When the dust clears nothing in Wick's life will be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;">Caution:</span></i></b><span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;"> This is the fifth in the series, and while you can read this by itself...you know what? Forget it...no you can't read this one by itself and miss out on all the stuff that makes Wick so darn awesome, go back and start with the first one.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #943634; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 13pt; mso-themecolor: accent2; mso-themeshade: 191;"><i><b>I take no responsibility for Wick's mouth...just saying *winks*...okay my friends...until next time make sure you keep up with the Orgy, because we just like when you do. ;)</b></i></span></div>
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Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-31717864371026743292013-09-10T09:25:00.000-05:002013-09-10T09:25:57.183-05:00JR's Here with a "Spirited Heart" Hello all! JR here; trying to get back in the saddle after some rough times. I thought I'd share a poem inspired by various events in my life. The poem is actually published in an anthology and can be found in the following book - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Lifetime-Sentiments-Eber-Wein/dp/1608802531/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378822574&sr=1-2&keywords=In+My+Lifetime">In My Lifetime: Sentiments</a> . I hope you enjoy the poem and have a great week.<br />
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Much love to you all,<br />
<br />
JR Boyd<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikM2Vj3iTPtYVOLL96rY9IQ4uD6zu4l-2P37ADSGOj6lp629h3vnCC3LmndmsdbSSmtFMy-x2S_RG9rdOUJvUBBw9qwHJnNOprQYjZj-6rCFfzKUr6UPwp3oGZ-RY-cXZJgeSd6nSPa3I/s1600/Heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikM2Vj3iTPtYVOLL96rY9IQ4uD6zu4l-2P37ADSGOj6lp629h3vnCC3LmndmsdbSSmtFMy-x2S_RG9rdOUJvUBBw9qwHJnNOprQYjZj-6rCFfzKUr6UPwp3oGZ-RY-cXZJgeSd6nSPa3I/s1600/Heart.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Spirited Heart" <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>by<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>JR Boyd<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Far beyond where the
mind can reach</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
There's a place so
close you can hear it speak.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It speaks proportions
unlike many have ever heard;</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And, yet, you'll
never hear a word. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Some build walls
around it to protect it,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And some will merely neglect
it.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
People abuse it</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Rattle it and break
it.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Few will rarely take
it; but,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The ones who do will
make it...</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Make it smile, make
it sweet. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Make it melt in a
heavenly treat. </div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Far beyond where the
mind can reach</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Is a place so close
you can hear it speak.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It speaks volumes
some of you may have heard;</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And, yet, you never
heard a word. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
JR Boydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108844428364907043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-22332436740518590262013-08-26T00:39:00.000-05:002013-08-26T00:41:31.450-05:00Jade's turn!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hello dear
friends! How was your week-end? Mine was very relaxing… until I realized it was
my turn to post on the blog. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no
worries, I found something for you. You know that I wouldn’t leave you hanging
with nothing. Not my style! Lol<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Well, after
thinking really hard (yes, I can think when I put my mind to it!), I decided to
post the first chapter of each stories of the Road Trip Anthology. I hope you’ll
like it!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<div align="center">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can find it at </span><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-andthepromptisroadtripedition-995335-145.html"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All Romance Ebooks</span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span id="goog_1855074183"></span><span id="goog_1855074184"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W7wEQ-Tb22lccoWLvttWuK987eGiF9vlF4S3Oj5OqbfdJqq_KsBYoOnZOfqeOp0V8sUc0Wka0Jt_WRDIBC9mh8Gv8-i_yKmkMVHfmB7JUNQC24V0n6SbDdPDm2gDNYMoEH-Evdd3Bqps/s1600/Bigger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W7wEQ-Tb22lccoWLvttWuK987eGiF9vlF4S3Oj5OqbfdJqq_KsBYoOnZOfqeOp0V8sUc0Wka0Jt_WRDIBC9mh8Gv8-i_yKmkMVHfmB7JUNQC24V0n6SbDdPDm2gDNYMoEH-Evdd3Bqps/s400/Bigger.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cross
Country Foreplay<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hank
Edwards<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Brady?
You awake?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The voice
drilled into Brady's dream, chasing away the image of the nude, hot, hung guy
Brady had been about to suck off. He rubbed his eyes, squinted against the
bright white sun, and looked around. Yep, it was all as he left it before
drifting off to sleep -- trapped in a van driving cross country with none other
than Preston Brissett, otherwise known as Bald Spot Brissett, or BSB to the
rest of the guys Brady worked with at Techmagine.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady
yawned and sat up higher in the passenger seat. His mouth tasted like sand,
which was hardly a surprise, seeing as how they were driving through the
desert. He rubbed his eyes some more and then made himself turn his head toward
the driver's side, trying to force the graphic images of his dream out of his
mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Preston
glanced over and grinned at him. The man's dark blond hair was kind of long for
such a prominent bald spot in back, and he was a little heavier than he should
be. A neatly trimmed goatee surrounded his mouth, and the sunlight through the
windshield sparkled in his blue eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Welcome
back to the land of the wakeful," Preston said. "Gas station up
ahead. Need a pee break?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady
looked away and nodded. Preston was a cheerful driver, and Brady was still
trying to wake up from his nap. "Yeah. A break would be good."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The gas
station was the typical highway rest stop: an acre of concrete, rows of pumps
huddling from the sun beneath an aluminum overhang, and tackily dressed
tourists wandering bleary-eyed through the heat from the air conditioned
interiors of their cars to the air conditioned interior of the building.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Preston
eased the van up alongside a pump and flashed Brady a tentative smile.
"I'll pay for the gas. Think you might want to drive for a while?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady
shrugged. "Sure. Where are we?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Just
crossed the state line into Arizona." Preston held up his cell phone, the
exact same model as Brady's. "I thought we'd take I-40 through Arizona and
New Mexico, if that's okay with you? You were asleep and I just made the
decision. Better to beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission,
right?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah,
sure," Brady said, "whatever." He opened the door and the dry
heat sucked the moisture from his mouth. It was like stepping into a blast
furnace. Brady let out a gasp and hurried to the doors of the station.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After using
the restroom, Brady opened a cooler door and grabbed a few Red Bulls for
himself. He started for the register, but caught a glimpse of Preston cleaning
the bugs off the windshield, a line of sweat staining the back of his shirt,
and he stopped. It was still tough for Brady to realize that just two days ago
he and Preston had been lured into the office of Cameron Rooke, founder and CEO
of Techmagine. Cameron had talked to them about the importance of flexibility
for start-up companies, especially tech companies, and how positive word of
mouth was the fastest path to true growth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady had
nodded along, tried to look invested in the conversation, but his mind was
darting around like a hummingbird on crack. He was in the CEO's office, having
a conversation with Cameron Rooke himself! Brady managed to get his thoughts
under control and zoned in on Cameron's words again. He didn't know what
Cameron was leading up to, he just knew the CEO had selected him out of the
entire, hungry office staff for a special project, and he was going to jump at
it no matter how many late nights it took.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then
Cameron had dropped the bomb about the client in Boston, as in Massachusetts –
as in across the fucking country – and their request for personal training on
the Techmagine system.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was a
great opportunity, and he knew that Brady and Preston were the right team to
get it done and get it done right. Because they would need to set up an entire
classroom of equipment for training, they needed to drive a van loaded down
with computers. It was going to take three days to drive there, a week to
complete the training, and three more days to drive home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All that
time spent with Preston right at his side. Brady didn't know if he should be
excited or annoyed at the opportunity. He had always thought Preston was sexy
in his own way, a fact he would never tell any of the other coders he worked
with, especially not Phillip Holt, who had coined the nickname BSB. It was a
mean name, and Phillip was a mean person through and through, but Brady didn't
want the guy to know his thoughts about Preston, good or bad. Truth was, Brady
had never really considered Preston as a sexual person. The guy wore baggy
khakis and button-down shirts to the office with a few ties that he changed up
every now and then.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady
turned back to the cooler and stood looking at the drink selection. Preston
liked a specific flavor of Vitamin Water, but what was it? Brady let his gaze
roam the bottles and colors, then finally remembered. He had been watching porn
on his computer while he waited for Preston to show up, and when he had gotten
in the van the name of the drink had made him think of the scene he'd just
watched and he blushed: Vitamin Water XXX.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He grabbed
three bottles of XXX out of the cooler, paid for the drinks, then crossed the
blazing heat of the concrete lot to the van where Preston was just grabbing the
gas receipt out of the pump.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Grabbed
you some drinks," Brady said, and reached in the bag to pull one out.
"This the right flavor?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Preston
looked at him and, if Brady wasn't seeing things, he actually blushed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Oh,
that was nice. Yeah... Yes, that's the flavor I like." Preston stood
looking at him for a moment, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the gas
station. "I'll just go in and use the restroom, then we can go. Gas is
paid for."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah,
okay, sounds good." Brady gestured. "I'll pull over here to free up
the pump."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Good
idea," Preston said and nodded a few times before turning to hurry to the
station.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brady
watched him go, smirked at the sunlight that gleamed off the sheen of sweat coating
his bald spot. BSB was a mean name, but it did fit. Had to give Phillip props
for creativity. Then Brady's gaze automatically dropped to check out BSB's ass,
surprised to find it a meaty, high, rounded swell beneath his jeans.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Looked like BSB worked out, something Brady and
the other young guys at the office never imagined for the guy since they
couldn't tell it beneath his baggy khakis. Brady watched a moment longer, then
got in the van, and pulled off to the side to wait for his passenger.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Storm
Warning<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Em Woods<o:p></o:p></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></strong>
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The vase
was almost finished.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sweat
rolled down his back, soaking into the waistband of his jeans, as the coals in
his kiln glowed red and the air rippled with heat. It was his pride and joy,
but his oven was one of the older models that earned Bailey Fletcher some
ribbing from his friends when he allowed them into his workshop. Its dark stone
was rough around the outside, molded in the shape of an igloo with a wide
chimneystack. The door sat on well-oiled hinges though he rarely closed it.<o:p></o:p></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He glanced
at the clock to the right of his oven, and then sighed. Ten pm. Bailey stretched
his neck to one side, then the other, careful to keep his work level. Every
muscle in his back ached from holding the rod steady while he turned the glass
into the shape he wanted. Years of practice had steadied his hand, regardless
of the distraction.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Another
twist of his wrist and a short puff of air into his blowpipe had the base of
his project ballooning to just where he wanted it. The burnt orange he'd chosen
for the bottom of the vase blended perfectly with the swirls of sage and
sunflower. It was earthy, masculine. Real.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His arms
protested at the prolonged labor as he pulled the vase from the heat one last
time. A small bobble of his hand widened his eyes and caught his breath. He
would break down and cry if he dropped the thing now after hours of work and
sweat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The design
of the vase had come to him during the night, while he'd tossed and turned,
looking for sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At the end
of each day, his footsteps echoed alone on the stairs as he had climbed them,
the loft too quiet when he entered. It ate at him. He hated the loneliness.
More than that, he despised the need to make it tangible...touchable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When he tried
to talk his restlessness over with his family, his mother said he spent too
much time alone. His dad said she needed to leave him be and let him live his
life - that things would change when the time was right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In the dark
of night, he agreed with them both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bailey
scored the bottom edge of the vase where it met his working handle, and then he
placed it just over a table pad to pop it free. He couldn't hold it yet,
couldn't run his fingers over the swirling yellow teardrop. But it took his
breath away just seeing it there on his bench.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The colors
melded, forming darker versions of them where they touched. Shadows cast their
magic over the piece as the tear rippled along its surface. He allowed himself
to stare a moment, then he slid the pad to the center of the table to rest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bailey
assessed his workroom. Tools, glass rod and bins of frit were scattered everywhere.
Organized chaos his mother called it but he knew it was just plain sloppy. He
rubbed his eyes, sleep pulling at his tired mind as he wished he was already
climbing the stairs from the studio to his loft.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Shutting
down his kiln and sliding a simple mesh screen across the open front, Bailey
tried to clear his mind of his worries. He wasn't normally so maudlin and the
self-pity binge he was on lately freaked him out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Shit, if he
was meant to have a boyfriend, one would show up when the time was right. In
the meantime, he had work to do. He flipped off the light on his way up to bed.
It was going to be an early start in the morning if he wanted to be set up to
catch the tailgaters at the stadium.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Rayne
Chandler glared at more storm clouds coming in from the west.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It figured.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The drive
from Detroit to Boston had been uneventful - a first for him - if he didn't
count the deluge of rain from the storm front he'd ridden on his drive to the
coast. He usually got lost on long drives despite having both a map and a GPS
system in his rental car.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was one
of the things his colleagues teased him about most. Whenever he came back to
the office from vacation, they always gathered around to hear what disaster had
befallen him while he'd been gone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He glanced
skyward again and sighed. Maybe the clouds would blow over. Or turn north.
Maybe. He wasn't going to bank on it though. It looked like the weathermen had it
right this time and the game was going to be played in the rain. He should have
brought the damn umbrella.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Rayne could
handle the cool air on his legs so his shorts weren't a problem, but his thin
cotton Lion's shirt wouldn't give him much protection from the rain and wind.
Any warmth he'd absorbed from the hotel evaporated into the cooler temperatures
preceding the storm front. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hopefully
keep some part of his body warm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Goosebumps
raised on his exposed forearms as another gust of wind swept across the parking
lot. All of the traveling for work was starting to get to him. He was only
thirty, but he felt like he'd walked headfirst into being an old man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He closed
his eyes briefly. Who was he kidding?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His last
dig, a tomb in Egypt, had ended in a pile of rubble. Trapped for six hours,
he'd been saved by a statue of Anubis that had lodged just over his head,
giving him a shelter from the crushing rock. Rayne hadn't fancied himself
claustrophobic until then.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A ten-year-old
boy danced by him, tugging his father along in his wake and chattering on about
Tom Brady's last pass. Rayne smiled. People milled around everywhere. Some
lounged on tailgates; others grabbed food at the concession stalls, or browsed
the shops nearby. Rayne mulled over his choices.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ahead was
the ten-story lighthouse spiking out of the entrance at the north end zone of
the Patriot's stadium. A small twist of homesickness pulled at his gut for his
Lions' Ford Field.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He couldn't
bring himself to go inside there just yet. He needed something else.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Before he'd
left, a coworker had mentioned there was an obscure artist's open-air market
somewhere in the area and he decided he wanted to hit there first. Digging up
old artifacts for a living had given him an appreciation for the modern
artists' work. He loved scouting local art galleries for unique pieces to add
to his place back home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The surging
tide of people pushed and pulled at him, but he managed to weave his way
through the cars and busses to reach the back of the parking lot. Large
hand-drawn signs flapped in the breeze, pointing the way down a side street to
a weekender's artist fair. Rayne grinned at the stroke of luck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tables
covered by three-sided canopies lined up on either side of the tiny street; each
decorated with handmade goods. Oil paintings, charcoal sketches, crystals,
handmade glass pieces, and woodcarvings - the selection seemed endless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The vendors
were as varied as their items for sale. Some wore jeans and t-shirts, others
wore dress clothes. And the customers attracted to the market were just as
eclectic. Some were in Sunday best, browsing after church, and others were fans
coming to the game. Patriots jerseys were everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The noise
level held at a steady rumbling as customers bargained, laughed, and chatted
with the vendors. Most were respectful but Rayne's attention followed three men
moving from booth to booth at the other end of the alley. They laughed and
heckled the artists on their way past each booth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Rayne
rolled his eyes and moved to the first artist on his right. A Lions fan in Pats
territory had enough troubles without trying to stick his nose in an already
crappy situation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The drive
into town wasn't fun. It never was on a game day, but in the middle of a storm
was even worse. Everybody and their brother went to these games - not that he
would have passed up the chance to see his Pats play if someone offered - and
traffic into the stadium area sucked. When he finally pulled into the lot
reserved for the vendors that weekend, he breathed a sigh of relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was
short work from there to unload his display table and boxes onto his folding
cart, and then make his way to his assigned spot in the long line of artist
booths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bailey kept
a close eye on the sky and the dark clouds moving closer. He had hoped to have
a good sale today and now the heavens were conspiring against him. Making quick
work of sorting out his table, attaching the display cases to the top, he began
unpacking the boxes of their prizes. Christmas ornaments and sun catchers hung
to the left, one or two he even clipped to the booth frame. Plates and bottles
belonged in the center of the table. Most people gravitated to the brightly
colored items, imagining them on their own tables and desks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His
favorites, though, were the vases. He got the most joy from those, filling them
with delicate glass roses and lilies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He pulled
out the last set of flowers just before a sharp breath of wind caught the edge
of the box, flipping it to the back of his tent. Closing his eyes briefly, he
thanked any god who was listening that it was empty. With slightly shaking
hands, he slipped the blue and red roses into its holder, double-checked the
others to ensure they wouldn't topple in the wind, and then tucked the
remaining boxes into the far corner of the tent with their wayward counterpart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Reassessing
his handiwork, he smiled. They were secure. He would have no trouble staying as
long as there were shoppers. On cue, a couple stopped to chat for a minute
about how lovely his work looked, purchased a bowl for her china cabinet and
moved on to the next table.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">From there,
the pace became steady. Bailey enjoyed the compliments and smiles as people
came and went - some buying, some not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Bailes!"
A pretty brunette across from him waved like she wasn't ten feet away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He smiled
and lifted his hand to wave back at Janie as a customer moved to her table of
charcoal sketches. Bailey let his gaze roam over the man. He had a lanky frame,
muscled but smooth under the khaki shorts hugging his ass, and brown hair that
lay straight to his shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He moved
with ease though he had to be a good head taller than the rest of the crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And he was
wearing blue and gray.<o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bailey grinned. Well, everyone had a fault.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>A<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Guy Like
Grant<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Havan
Fellows<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Chapter One<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As soon as
Casey climbed off his bike, he noticed. How could he not? It looked as though
the man was a couple inches over six feet, carrying lots of meat on him. Not
too bulky, which Casey appreciated, but not a scrawny man either. Oh far from
it. This guy had some strength to him. His salt and pepper hair placed him in
his forties at least, older than Casey normally sought out, but damn this guy
deserved the time of day. He was gassing up a huge dually that had seen better
days. A plain white enclosed trailer was hitched to the battered truck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A closer
look was called for. Casey finished topping off his bike's tank and glanced around.
His buddies were still in the convenience store, probably hitting on the clerk
if she was a D cup or larger. Good, a few minutes to spare. He replaced the
nozzle, shoved the receipt in his front jeans pocket and strolled over to the
dually on the far side of the pumps.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"My
what a huge truck you got there, mister."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The man
turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He cringed
to himself and thanked god his buddies weren't there to hear that come-on line.
"I mean your actual truck." Not better. "The one you're gassing
up." Getting worse. "You know what, have a good day and I'm sorry for
bothering you." Casey turned to walk away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Should
I say the better to pick you up with?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That deep
voice demanded that Casey stop mid-turn. He looked back at the stranger and
they both laughed. His might've been a bit more high strung, but it was good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"A
cheesy retort like that should be followed by something in the way of...you can
pick me up with that beast but can you handle me?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The
stranger chuckled again, lower this time. "My retorts match the lines they
follow."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He stopped
and appraised Casey up and down. Casey did his best not to puff out his chest
or god forbid pose for the man. "So tell me, who am I following in this
conversation?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He offered
his hand and his best genuine smile. "My name's Casey Bunker."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The older
man's hand engulfed his, calloused and sprinkled with fine salt and pepper hair
that matched the thick waves brushing his forehead. It was a hand that got
Casey's interest popping, specifically in one area. He matched the strength the
man was giving him in the shake but didn't try to one-up him. He had a feeling there
were few areas in which he could one-up this guy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Just like
all good things, the touch ended sooner than he wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"And
who might be picking me up?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Well
now, my birth name is Grant Faustito. My friends seem to prefer calling me
Faus."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He waved
his hand in a dismissive gesture when Casey opened his mouth to question him.
"They use last names most of the time, and got tired of saying mine
completely. Lazy bucks, if you ask me."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Ah.
Well, Grant, it's nice to meet you." He stood there and tried not to literally
twirl his thumbs. When the seconds of silence seemed too long, he tried to fill
them. "So those duallies use diesel fuel, right?" And flunked yet
again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Grant
finished with the nozzle and hung it back on its cradle. He turned his back to
Casey slightly when he recapped his gas tank. "And here I thought your
next question would be if I came here often."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"That
question wouldn't do me any good considering I'm just driving through. I'm heading
to Daytona Beach and Biketoberfest. Finally got my bike up and running and...um...yeah."
Casey gestured to where he left his bike and blushed again. He couldn't
remember the last time he had this much trouble talking to someone. Then again
he couldn't remember the last time he wanted to talk to someone so bad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Biketoberfest,
huh?" Grant chin nodded to Casey's motorcycle. "That's a Ninja,
right?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What was
wrong with it that you had to get it up and running?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah,
2002 Ninja 250EX. Not a flashy type of bike to be going to Daytona with, but
it's mine and, well, yeah. The clutch cable went out on it. I took it to the
shop, just to be laughed at. Thank god the mechanic was an honest sort, he told
me that I could just buy a cable and DIY the job myself and save a pretty
penny."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Casey
rubbed the back of his neck with his sweaty palm, not sure how to continue the
conversation at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"A
mechanic that doesn't try to bleed you dry? Lucky you."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Casey
looked at Grant's clear blue eyes and smiled again. "Getting luckier by
the moment."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"You
don't say?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yo,
Casey, whatcha doing over there? You ready to roll? We've been shut out by the
clerk and her bouncy friend, already filled up on gasoline and caffeine. Time
to ride, bro!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe Casey
spoke to soon. He turned to see his buddies slapping each other and laughing as
they headed toward him and Grant. It was too late to head them off, too. He saw
the sparkle in Sean's eyes when he glimpsed Grant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Hey,
who's the pops you made friends with?" Sean laughed as they reached him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Dude,
Casey, you and me have gots to talk."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Casey
glared at Frankie, the last man on the planet he would willingly talk to. The
only reason Frankie was even with them this week was because Sean was dating
his younger sister, Lita. "Yeah, I highly doubt that, Frankie."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He turned
to Grant and prayed that his face conveyed his unhappiness for the interruption.
Best to put feet between them now though, before these two made complete asses
of themselves and him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"It
was really good talking shop with you, hope to see you around." In front
of Frankie<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and Sean
and against his better judgment he leaned over and squeezed Grant's arm a quick
goodbye. It might have been a stupid move that would definitely get him razzed
on, but it was well worth it to feel the muscle there. Did he imagine it flex a
little under his grip? If so, that was fine with him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Come
on, guys." He said quickly and hurried back to his Ninja.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Don't
forget the roads are dangerous with Biketoberfest going on. Helmets are a smart
idea."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Grant's
concern for his safety, or safety in general, made him smile. But he didn't
dare turn around and answer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Hey,
old timer! This is fucking Florida, no helmet law! You worry about controlling
that thing you're driving and we'll worry about what's between our legs."
Frankie lowered his voice for just Sean and Casey as he added, "I hate it
when four-wheel drivers feel the need to protect us bikers."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Technically
his truck has six wheels, Frankie."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Fuck
you, Sean." Casey heard both of them mucking it up and growled under his
breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">He picked up his pace and was straddling his
bike before he knew it. He looked over at Frankie, who was putting his
sunglasses on, flicked him off and revved his throttle. He didn't even wait to
see if the other two were ready. He peeled out of the gas station heading east.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Saving
Mickey<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">JR Boyd<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Prologue<o:p></o:p></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wind lashed
his face and the driving rain stung his eyes, but Tristan kept moving. The
murky creek water was over his knees, and he knew that the ground beneath his
feet was shaky at best, but Marty Grenninger was only six years old and it
would be waist deep on the kid. His feet slipped over the smooth stones of the
creek bottom as he struggled to keep his balance while straining to catch a
glimpse of the boy's red jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The ground
leached away under his feet and something heavy nudged Tristan sharply in the
back of his knee. Choking back a cry, he flung out both arms to grab onto
something. He was going down, and in these flood waters, that was not a good
thing. "Brian!" He cried out. His lover was there somewhere nearby
leading the search for the boy who had been swept overboard from his cousin's
fishing boat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The wind
and rain seemed to capture his words and throw them into a void where no one
heard them. None of the other men recognized the danger he was in. All of them
were intently focused on that red jacket…<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And Tristan
couldn't catch himself on anything, couldn't force his body upright as the rushing
water swept him downstream. He was dragged under, fighting to hold his breath
until the force of the water's movement pushed him upward again, ignoring the
knocks and scrapes as he was dashed against loosened rocks and floating
branches.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When he
surfaced again he was shocked to see how far downstream he'd traveled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Gathering
as much strength as he could, he screamed again, "Help! Brian!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Tristan!"
His lover's voice calling his name in shock was the last thing he heard as the
water pulled him down again and his head struck something unseen on the bottom
of the creek bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Chapter One<o:p></o:p></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">K-thunk.
K-thunk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The
unmistakable sound of cowboy boots striking the hardwood floor brought the rustling
of paper and casual chatter in Professor Wilkins' senior year botany class to
an end. A striking man approached the front of the room. Everyone turned to
watch him climb the steps to the teacher's podium.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Professor
Cecil Simmons. Mickey Dodd's gaze followed the professor. A shudder rippled
through his body and he smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There was
something extraordinary about the professor that had attracted Mickey since his
freshman year at the University of Northern Texas, UNT. Professor Simmons had
addressed a group of incoming freshmen about choosing a major, and Mickey had
been hooked. Sure, there was a lot of eye candy on campus, but nobody caught
Mickey's eye like Professor Simmons.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mickey
always had a taste for the older, more distinguished men. Crazily, he'd poured
over every course directory and signed up for as many of Simmons' courses as
he'd been permitted each semester, including one completely off the wall course
in aquatic toxicology that had kept him on campus all summer last year. After
the many classroom hours where Mickey had spent his time squirming in his
chair, hiding his hard on and his fantasies, his desire for the handsome
Professor Simmons only grew stronger. Even now, in front of all his classmates,
his breath came a little faster as his flared nostrils picked up the faintest
scent of outdoors wafted from the professor. It wasn't cologne…it wasn't
anything man made, it was the scent of a man, who despite his time in the
classroom, enjoyed life outdoors. And it made Mickey want.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"You
all are probably wondering why Professor Wilkins was so kind to let me take up
a moment of his lecture time to speak with you." Professor Simmons' husky
voice grabbed Mickey right in the gut, stirring his cock.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few heads
nodded and students muttered acknowledgements. Mickey couldn't let the moment
pass. His previous encounters with the professor he'd only ever managed a few
tonguetied questions about subject matter. Never had a personal word crossed
his lips. Now, he'd endured all he could handle. It was his last year in
college and he wasn't about to let Professor Simmons come and go without
getting himself noticed. He put his best smile on, and spoke loud enough to be
heard by the professor. "You're always welcome here, Professor
Simmons."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Memories
flicked through his mind like an old reel-to-reel movie, recalling the special projects
he had worked on in Professor Simmons' ecology class a couple of summers
before.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Does he
even remember me?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few
chuckles from the other students were brought to a halt by the Professor's response.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mickey."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mickey
blushed. Simmons remembered him. Oh God. Simmons remembered him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Professor
Simmons waved his hand in Mickey's direction, but spoke to the class in general.
"His grades are outstanding, top of the roster." He focused his dark
brown eyes on Mickey again. "And don't think your assistance over the past
few years has gone unnoticed. Come on up here and join me, Mickey."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A million
butterflies took flight in Mickey's stomach. He pried himself from the hard plastic
student's desk and ascended the carpeted steps to stand beside the other man.
He kept his gaze on Simmons, forcing himself not to react to the snickers and
wolf calls from his fellow students. Sometimes, like now, he wished that he'd
packed himself away in the proverbial closet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Almost.
What is Professor Simmons up to?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Professor
Wilkins cleared his throat and silence descended on the room. Mickey's skin
prickled and a bead of sweat formed on his brow under the many stares of his
colleagues. It was a sickly sweet moment he'd remember for a long time to come.
The only thing preventing him from bolting off the stage was the sexy smile
gracing Professor Simmons's lips. He'd do anything to keep that smile directed
at him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I'm
setting out on a personal mission this summer and find myself in need of an assistant.
A botanist to be exact." Simmons slowly paced the platform from one end to
the other, eyeing Mickey as he paused in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Shit. The
potential for ridicule struck him and he dismissed it immediately. Simmons wasn't
like that. Sure, he was a stickler for exact science, but he wasn't a dick.
Mickey would have caught on to that. Could it be that he'd called Mickey up
here to offer him the position? "I'd like to apply." Mickey extended
a shaky hand toward the professor, knees threatening to buckle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Splendid.
No need to be nervous, then." Simmons's baritone vibrated in Mickey's
ears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One large,
calloused hand engulfed Mickey's, while the other gave Mickey's shoulder a firm
squeeze. His eyes already held a familiar, distant look that told Mickey his
mind was already on the road to their destination. As always, the familiar
glance fired a response in Mickey—a desire to be the focus of that intensity…to
be noticed by this man…to make an impression so strong that they couldn't stand
two feet apart like this and the man's mind wander. Fuck. He had it bad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I'm
not nervous, Professor Simmons. I'm thrilled! It'd be an honor to accompany
you. But, I'll need details before I can fully commit. Itinerary, dates,
expenses…" Mickey's stomach soured at his own words, but it was true.
Mickey would kill for a chance to work side by side with his former professor,
but he couldn't just make a decision like that at the drop of a hat, could he?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Professor
Simmons's attention snapped back to Mickey, and he chuckled. "I've got all
the information we need to work out the details together. Don't you fret
none."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I can
go if he can't." A busty brunette in the front row sounded off and Mickey
had to suppress the urge to tip her out of her chair. Screw it. Mickey was
going. Daisy fucking Duke was not shoving her tits under his professor's nose,
not while he had…all of three hundred dollars in his checking account to last
until his financial aid came through in the fall. Oh well, maybe he'd get
finished with the project in time to find a summer job. Maybe he could just
swallow his pride and ask his grandpa for the money the old guy kept trying to
give him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Professor
Simmons raised his hand as others chimed in to take his spot. "There are comprehensive
brochures and a sign-up list on a table in the vestibule outside the doors in
the back of the room for anybody interested. Only one student will go. I
specifically chose Mickey here as my prime candidate because of his grades,
attendance, and overall proven dedication to his botany studies. Any of you who
feel you fit the bill, by all means, sign up. As Mickey here has so wisely
stated, there are a few things you might want to consider tossing into your
personal list of criteria."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Unmistakable warmth spread through Mickey's cheeks.
He never could accept a compliment or reward without fighting back a flood of
emotions. No wonder he gravitated toward botany as a career field. The plants
didn't trigger his emotional side like this. He had decided long ago to let his
spirit guide him. If only he could muster up a little more courage in the
personal department.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Going Home<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lee Brazil<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Chapter One<o:p></o:p></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Where
the fuck are you?" The furious voice spat out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Evan Malone
stared at his cell phone in disgust. The rage he'd suppressed since his third
quarter fuck–up surged to the surface. "You never fucking change, do you,
Gil? Millions of people know exactly where I am, but you can't be bothered. I
just lost a fucking playoff game in front of half the country. I'm in fucking
Dallas. Where the fuck are you?" His eyes burned as acrid sweat dripped
from his lashes. He toweled moisture from his brow and rubbed at his damp hair.
It didn't do any good. The locker room stunk of sweat and defeat.<o:p></o:p></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I'm
where you should be, jack ass. Egocentric fucker. He needs you, and I'm a poor goddamn
substitute. Come home."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The snarl
raised hackles on the back of his neck. He bit his cheek to stem the flow of
obscenities. Coach would fine him if the press overheard him. "I can't
leave until tomorrow. Then I'm filming some credit card commercials in Aruba,
taking a few days of break. I'll be home the third week of February, the same
as always. Just make sure your ass isn't there when I arrive."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Silence.
Then a deep sigh came over the line. "I never quite expect how low you'll
sink. Even for you, this is unbelievable."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I
live to amaze you." The weak sarcasm was the best he could muster. His
team had made the play-offs for the first time in the five years he'd played
for them. Within five minutes of the first quarter, the slaughter had been
inevitable. He'd watched from the sidelines as player after player had fumbled,
faltered, and fucked up their chance at the Super Bowl. His heart pounded, the
blood rushed in his ears, and he pleaded with an un-answering God, Let him put
me in. He'd thought he could do better, even with the strange aches he'd been
experiencing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then, he'd
gotten his wish and fucked it up. Instead of saving the day as he'd imagined,
he took their minimal chance of not being humiliated with a complete wipe out
and blew it up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The only
thing that could have made losing today worse was if his twin, Ethan had
accepted his offer to fly him out and seen him screw up in person.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As it was,
"Did he watch the game?" He couldn't help asking. He knew the answer.
Ethan wouldn't watch him play. He hated football.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"You
know the answer to that. Fuck it, Evan. Have a nice time in Aruba." Gil's
silence echoed in his ear and he slowly pushed the phone in his pocket. He
hated when Gil called, the guilt and longing that warred in the aftermath of
each conversation left him torn to shreds. At least this time he could pretend
the ache in his gut was from the bitter words he swallowed when a reporter
shoved a microphone in his face after the end of the game. Instead of telling
the guy to fuck off, he'd spouted the usual stilted barely literate, team
management approved lines. 'We played our best. We'll do better next year. It
was an honor to play.' Fuck it. He wanted to scream and deride the fate that
just kept screwing over every good thing in his life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Even now,
in a locker room full of long faces and dispirited teammates, each absorbed in
his own role in the defeat of the century as the broadcasters were already
calling it, his body responded to the voice of the man he loved. One of them
anyway. He slammed his locker door shut with sudden violence. His cock
thickened under the towel at his illicit thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Clutching
the towel to his middle, guts churning with the agony of defeat, remorse for
his misbegotten lust, jealousy for a relationship he could never have, and
sheer loss, he stalked to the shower. Sharp pain lanced his heart and he
shuddered. He was nearly running the last few steps to hide the trickle of
tears in the spray of the shower. Fuck them both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Neither Gil
nor Ethan appreciated what it cost him to stay away. Neither knew that he'd
gladly give up football and fame and even the fortune that went along with them
to be able to stay, to spend his days and nights waking and sleeping with them.
Their little love triangle was a Goddamn disaster of such epic proportions it
made his team's loss on the field today look like Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He lifted
his face into the hot spray, and the salty tears mingled with the heat of the
water, purifying him. He let the emotions roll, face reddening, heating, body
flushing with the steam of the water. Ethan and Gil were better together
without him around to fuck things up for them. He couldn't even explain why to
them, so he made a big show of how much he enjoyed the game, and the travel,
the life style of a player.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He loathed
it to the very core of his being. But he needed it like a junkie needed his
next fix.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The game
filled the gap left in his heart when he'd realized at graduation five years
earlier that what Evan felt for Gil was real. He'd seen that love reflected
back for Ethan in Gil's eyes as well. They were good together. They would be
good together, if Ethan weren't so attached to Evan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In all
their lives, it was the first time that Ethan had been physically attracted to
someone else. Someone attainable that is. The movie star posters and sports
heroes, which he'd papered the walls of their childhood bedroom, hadn't really
counted. He might have a crush on an actor, but he didn't stand a chance of
hooking up with one. The one real person Ethan had wanted was Evan. He'd loved
that. Ethan was the center of his world, and they'd done everything together.
At first, they'd been messing around. Sharing a room had its risks and
benefits. Innocent playing at twelve and thirteen had led to mutual jacking off
that escalated to far more by the time they'd graduated high school. Moving
into an apartment together miles from home to attend college changed things
even further.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Still,
though Ethan could be open about his preferences, Evan couldn't. He was on the
team. He wanted a career in sports. A gay accountant was fine. A gay
quarterback was not. So, their relationship continued, in secret, in the
privacy of their own home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then Ethan
brought Gil home. And Evan realized he only thought he knew what hell was. Gil
was everything Evan wasn't. Academic, intelligent, handsome, openly gay, and
more important, not Ethan's brother. And as the year passed, he got a front row
seat to Ethan falling in love with Gil, and Gil falling in love with Ethan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So he'd
done it. He'd taken the first offer that would take him out of state, and he'd
left Ethan to Gil, left Gil to Ethan. As he'd expected, without him standing
between them, Gil and Ethan had moved forward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He moved to
Sungrove to play football, and Gil moved into his room to get his doctorate in
Archeology. With Ethan studying for his MBA, the two had been roommates for two
years, and then shocked the family by getting engaged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Evan
survived by limiting his contact. It was the only thing he could do for the men
he loved. Of course, they didn't fucking get that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He pounded
his fist on the gritty tile. Fuckers. Pulling himself back together, he shut off
the taps and slung his towel around his hips again. In the locker room he
noticed that his weren't the only red-rimmed eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"There's
always next year." He muttered to Austin James, who leaned dejectedly on
the locker next to his.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Not
for me." Austin sighed. "I'm done. The doc says my knee has maybe
another season before I have to have surgery, but I don't want that. Living
surgery to surgery and dreading the next injury. I'm going home to Winterburn
and take that job in the family bank my dad's been holding for me."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Giving
up?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Making
an informed decision. I'm tired of hiding who I am from the world. One day, I'm
going to fuck up and find it splashed all over the newspapers. Byron and I
talked, and we're ready to settle down and do the picket fence thing."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wincing,
Evan forced his own ball of pain back inside. "Good for you. I'll miss you
guys.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You're
ditching me. I'll be alone here in a bastion of rampant heterosexuality."
He forced a smile, wanting to be encouraging.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"He
didn't come, did he?" Austin's sympathy lit the fuse of disappointment and
anger again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"No."
He said shortly. "He hates football. I knew he wouldn't."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"You're
his brother. It's the play-offs. He should have come just to support you. If I
ever meet this guy I'm kicking his ass. What a sorry ass fucking excuse for a
brother." Austin wrapped a comforting arm around Evan's shoulder in a
brief hug. "Wanna come out with us to commiserate? We're getting drunk and
driving home tomorrow."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Ethan
thinks he has reason. I can understand it, I guess."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"He's
a selfish prick. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Football took my brother.
I will never watch it again</i>." He mimicked a falsetto voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ethan
shoved him, laughing a little. "Cut it out. It's not exactly like that.
Okay, I'll go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You gonna
turn around so I can put my pants on or you want a show?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Chuckling,
Austin turned away. His restless gaze traveled from player to player, in various
poses of frustration, disappointment and sorrow. "You ever think about
giving it all up?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Evan pulled
faded jeans on, fastening the button fly deftly. "No. I have nothing to
live for except the game. You've got Byron. It's different for you."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He pulled
the Oxford he'd worn to the game off the hook and shrugged into it. Shoving his
feet into leather sandals, he fastened a few buttons. "Hustle. Let's get
out of here and hit the bar." Finger-combing his damp hair, he shoved the
rest of his stuff into a small duffle and slung it over his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">An
agreeable Austin followed him in thoughtful silence through the labyrinth of
corridors leading to a secure exit. The door opened into the parking lot, and
he blinked in the bright afternoon sunlight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A hard grasp closed on his arm and he spun in
shock. Goddamn reporters!</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A Reminder
Of His Shame<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jade Baiser<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Prologue<o:p></o:p></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He was running, blinded by his tears. The other
students watched him pass, some sympathetic, others clearly mocking. He vaguely
heard someone calling his name, but he was too angry and hurt to pay attention.
Only one thing mattered: going home to try to forget it ever happened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His parents watched him in stunned silence as
he stormed into the little house they were renting and slammed the door of his
room behind him. He threw himself on his bed and cried for what seemed hours.
When the tears finally dried up, he rose and paced around his room, going over
the scene in his head. How could he have been so stupid? He was always rushing
head down, never taking the time to think about the risks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He stopped in front of the full-length mirror
that stood in a corner of his room and lifted his shirt’s sleeve. Yep, it was
still there, seeming to mock him. What on earth went through him to do
something that insane? There was no coming back now, was there? He was stuck
with it for his whole life, a reminder of his foolishness and his shame.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Chapter One<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Four years
later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Josh!
Josh, wait! Dammit!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh
stopped in his track and turned around as much as he could on his skis,
wondering who would call him. He was new to Colorado and he hadn’t had time to
make any friends yet, but that was fine with him. He wasn’t a big fan of
friendship. He was a loner, and had been for almost four years now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The sun was
high and the luminosity on the snow prevented him from seeing anything but a
blurry form skiing to meet him. The slope was one of the hardest in the resort
and whoever it was, he—yes, it was a man, that was all Josh was sure about—was
pretty talented; not to mention the fact that he was a real hothead and taking
unnecessary risks considering the instability of the snow. It was the first
sunny day in a long time but it had snowed all week long.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh
sighed. As a ski instructor, it was his duty to chastise the guy. That was one
of the aspects of the job that he really didn’t enjoy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As the
skier approached, Josh was able to distinguish his features more clearly. The
first thing he was able to make out was the other man’s hair golden curls that
shone under the sun’s rays. It reminded him of someone, someone very special
who had hurt him badly in the past.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Someone he
was never able to totally erase from his mind, much to his despair. But it
couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t want anything to do with Josh; he made that very
clear the last time they’d seen each other. But the closer the skier came, the
more he resembled the man he dreaded to see.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">No, it
can’t be! It all came back to him with a precision that left him breathless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Josh, you should wait a little more. I’m not
sure about it,” Penelope said. “You have no proof that’s the truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh looked at his best friend. He knew she was
trying to protect him, but he was pretty sure of himself. He’d heard them
talking in the shower after the last football game. He hadn’t been hiding, but
they hadn’t seen him so he’d stayed where he was, listening to a conversation
that was about to change his life. They’d said it; Aidan was gay; or at least
he was bi. Josh had almost fainted when he’d heard it. He’d been in love with
Aidan since they’d begun high school, almost four years ago. But he’d never
approached the other boy because he was the captain of the football team and
had dated every girl he could put his hands on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aidan was Josh’s dream and every parent’s idea
of the perfect son-in-law. Tall, well built, with curly golden hair, shining
blue eyes, and an unfailing self confidence. The opposite of Josh, who was
African American, somewhat sickly, very shy, and openly gay. The revelation of
Aidan’s sexual inclination had been a shock to Josh, but also the sign he’d
been waiting for so long. In a crazy moment, he’d even gone to a tattoo parlor
after he’d pleaded with his parents for almost three hours and had a small
stylized “A” tattooed inside his left wrist. It was totally insane and the kind
of thing he’d never thought he was capable of doing. And to be honest, he
regretted it now, but it was done and there was nothing he could do about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Josh,” Penelope pressed him, “think of what
you’re about to do. Aidan never showed any inclination for men. He could be
pissed if you just go and tell him you love him. Look at him… and look at you.
I’m not saying that to hurt you, but if he decides to hit you, you’re dead
meat.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Don’t worry, Pen,” said Josh with an indulgent
smile. “You weren’t there. I was. I heard them. I know what I heard. Nothing
will happen to me. Besides, tomorrow is the last day of school. We’ll all be in
college next year. This could be my last chance to talk to him. I don’t want to
just do nothing and wonder ‘what if’ all my life. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I
made up my mind, and there’s nothing you can say to change it.” He leaned over
and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The skier
stopped close to Josh, sending him a lot of snow in his face. Josh was so deep
in his memories that he forgot where he was and tried to step back. He
remembered at the last moment that he was wearing his skis but still fell
miserably on his butt. In a matter of seconds, he once again became the clumsy
and unsure boy he was after the ‘Aidan incident’, instead of the savvy ski
instructor he’d grown into. Blinded by the snow that sprayed in his eyes, he
couldn’t see the other man, but the laughter he heard made him shudder. He knew
that laughter. He’d heard it in his nightmares for a long time. He rubbed his
eyes to remove the snow and looked up at the shape that was leaning over him,
only to close them immediately when he recognized the man who still haunted
most of his nights.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It’s you.
It’s really you,” said the voice he’d come to love and hate at the same time.
“I wasn’t sure at first, because… well, look at you. You changed. Where did you
get these muscles? Look how big you are now! Hey, Josh, do you hear me? Are you
alright?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh opened
his eyes again and just stared at him, unable to say a word. Why? Why is this
happening to me? He asked himself in despair. He’d moved here after college,
wanting a new life, a new start. He’d found the job of his dreams: ski
instructor. His life seemed rather beautiful if you forgot his loneliness, but
he was used to it now and he kind of liked it. If he didn’t get close to
anybody, he wouldn’t get hurt. That was his motto since he’d left high school.
And now, seeing Aidan, here of all places… He thought he had finally forgotten
about him. But it was a lie, wasn’t it? Jesus, the boy had always been
gorgeous, but now the man was stunning. And if the expression on his face was
any indication, Aidan was beginning to really freak out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Josh? Can
you hear me? Did you hurt yourself? Come on, man, answer me!” Aidan said in an
almost pleading voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh came
out of his stupor and repressed a wry chuckle. Of course! He’d never had any
luck in his life, why would he have some now?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I’m fine,”
he grumbled. “Don’t just stand there, help me get up. It seems that I’ve lost
my strength,” he added sarcastically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aidan was
aware of Josh’s anger. He knew he deserved it, but he had hoped that somehow
Josh would have forgotten everything that happened four years ago. He wasn’t
proud of himself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He never
could really forgive himself for what he’d done to the other man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He leaned
over and took Josh’s hand. The grip was firm and strong, nothing like the boy
he remembered from high school. In fact, nothing at all was like he remembered
from high school.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh was
now taller than him, with broader shoulders and a mouth that didn’t seem to
smile as often as it once had. Aidan felt his chest tighten at the knowledge
that he might have had something to do with the sadness and the distrust he
could see in Josh's eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aidan
pulled Josh’s hand and they found themselves face to face, almost nose to mouth
as Josh was a few inches taller and a little too close for Aidan’s comfort. He
had a lot to say to Josh, but he realized now that it wasn’t going to be easy.
He’d been looking for Josh for some time now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh was
one of his biggest regrets, and he wanted to make amends. He’d realized that if
he didn’t find the man and apologize for his past actions, he wouldn’t be able
to look at himself in the mirror without remembering Josh’s face on that
particular day. He needed to apologize for his actions like someone in AA.
While in that program, a person had to go to see all the people they’d hurt in
the past and tell them they were sorry. Josh was his salvation. He had waited
until college was over and then went to Josh’s home. He’d found Josh’s mother
there and she’d told him where he could find Josh. So here he was, a little
uncomfortable about what he had to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Why in hell
does he look at me like that? Josh was puzzled by Aidan’s attitude. He looked
uncomfortable, which was incomprehensible. If anyone should feel uncomfortable,
it should be Josh. He was the one who’d made a fool out of himself four years
ago, after all. Hell, he was the one who made a fool out of himself four
minutes ago too…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh looked
at Aidan without saying a word, waiting for the other ma to give him a clue
about his presence here. After what seemed an eternity, Aidan sighed and looked
away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Is there a
place where we could talk?” Aidan murmured. “I really need to talk to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh didn’t
want to talk to Aidan at all, but he realized it was childish to say no.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Can’t we talk
here?” he said with hope in his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I’d rather
go some place where we could be alone. And comfortable.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Comfortable?
What did Aidan mean by it? Josh knew that anywhere with Aidan would be
uncomfortable for him. There was no way he could relax in the other man’s
presence. He blinked and looked around him. What was wrong with here and now?
It wasn’t like there were a lot of people on the slope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Please?”
Aidan begged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josh sighed
heavily and nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Okay. I
know a cabin not far from here. There’s a porch where we can sit and talk, if<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">that’s what
you want.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aidan
seemed relieved, which made Josh more uncomfortable than before.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Follow me,
then,” he said as he darted down the slope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span> </span> </span><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-85715617837727875732013-08-19T05:00:00.000-05:002013-08-19T05:00:10.319-05:00Hank's Turn ... Anthologies Galore and Vampires In Your Face!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQz9RVAXzjtapoXPSa-kyd2msqVFCf3hi3zjJulk4gg041QnYAE5u4MddxSnevNQjSwMCW_jfxWcG8hGMV7qAOBVzMLkvg5QGgYmR10XNTJanjo8-TXiwINOT-0gNjwb3-88OpPz3nwo/s1600/Stakes&Spurs200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQz9RVAXzjtapoXPSa-kyd2msqVFCf3hi3zjJulk4gg041QnYAE5u4MddxSnevNQjSwMCW_jfxWcG8hGMV7qAOBVzMLkvg5QGgYmR10XNTJanjo8-TXiwINOT-0gNjwb3-88OpPz3nwo/s400/Stakes&Spurs200x300.jpg" width="266" /></a>Happy Monday Story Orgiasts! Hank here again, helping your Monday a little less Monday-ish. First and foremost … HOLY CRAP IT'S AUGUST 19!!! Where in the Sam Hill did summer scurry off to? *Ahem* Now that I've finished with that little outburst, I'd like to take this time to let you know that I have a book releasing this week. <i><b>STAKES & SPURS - VENOM VALLEY BOOK TWO</b></i> will be available exclusively at <a href="https://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-mainstream/stakes-spurs-venom-valley-book-two/#.UhDo6rykB6w" target="_blank">Wilde City Press</a> on <b>Wednesday, August 21</b>. This is the publisher re-release and, yes, the MAJOR CLIFFHANGER at the end of the first book, <i><b>COWBOYS & VAMPIRES - VENOM VALLEY BOOK ONE</b></i>, is answered within the first chapter. Would I leave you hanging too long? :)<br />
<br />
I am working hard on finishing the third book in the series, <i><b>BLOOD & STONE - VENOM VALLEY BOOK THREE</b></i>, and it will be available by the end of the year. Stay tuned for more details about that release date and cover reveal. Also, on the <span style="color: red;"><b>Story Orgy</b></span> front, we will have three (<b>THREE</b>!) anthologies releasing in the next six months for you. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3GhmJ7rkb-OXPhw-h6ZoUkNoq2efxCNxZp2gmyvGSOTDRUuqLyrvH5ZijZzTa4ar3vJTJKvv-6fDxuBXkhWcP2xRfUlEubCFqyX2JsfRVPgQ1EszoEgxVESSesZj_jBSNcptG0oRWaM/s1600/382548_618309384868929_656692549_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3GhmJ7rkb-OXPhw-h6ZoUkNoq2efxCNxZp2gmyvGSOTDRUuqLyrvH5ZijZzTa4ar3vJTJKvv-6fDxuBXkhWcP2xRfUlEubCFqyX2JsfRVPgQ1EszoEgxVESSesZj_jBSNcptG0oRWaM/s400/382548_618309384868929_656692549_n.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
First up, Lee, Havan, Em, and I coerced, err, <i>invited</i>, <b>Angel Martinez</b> and <b>Silvia Violet</b> to join us in an anthology coming soon from Total E-Bound titled <i><b>Mixed Tape Anthology</b></i>. Each of our stories took inspiration from a song released in the 1950s which had been suggested by a number of our Story Orgiasts. Look for this collection in <b>October</b>, and just to whet your appetite, here's a lovely cover image. Hot, hot, hot!<br />
<br />
And we wouldn't want you to end your year without a little Christmas cheer from your Story Orgy writers. We'll be releasing an anthology of our Christmas Flash stories, so try not to be naughty, or if you just can't help yourself, at least be really, really good at it.<br />
<br />
Finally, in the cold months of winter, long about Valentine's Day, we'll be releasing A<i><b>ND THE PROMPT IS… BAD BOYFRIEND</b></i>. We all took a bad
boyfriend type (The Cheater, The Cheapskate, The Mama's Boy, etc.) and
wrote a romantic story for you to shake your fists at and, ultimately,
give a happy sigh at the end.<br />
<br />
Now, without further ado, here's the blurb and an excerpt for <i><b>Stakes & Spurs - Venom Valley Book Two</b></i>. Grab the reins, dig in your heels, and hold on tight, it's going to be one hell of a ride!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><i><b>STAKES & SPURS - VENOM VALLEY BOOK TWO</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>By Hank Edwards</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Available August 21, 2013 from <a href="https://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-mainstream/stakes-spurs-venom-valley-book-two/#.UhDo6rykB6w" target="_blank">Wilde City Press</a></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<b><u>Blurb</u></b>:<br />
Dex Wells, former deputy of the prairie town of Belkin's Pass, wakes to the sound of screaming. He is chained inside a cave, prisoner of the powerful vampire Balthazar. The vampire holds Dex as bait, hoping to lure Dex's lover, Josh Stanton, into the caves and capture him. Balthazar senses something different about Josh, but what that difference is he can't quite tell.<br />
<br />
Josh Stanton can raise the dead. It's a power he's always had within him, and something he's considered a curse. Now, however, he's discovered that the risen dead can bite through vampire skin and bones. If he can just learn to control the power and, with it, the dead he's resurrected, he might be able to save his lover, Dex, from Balthazar's caves.<br />
<br />
The arrival of two members of the US Army throw Josh's plans into disarray when they take him into custody for a murder he did not commit. Can Josh convince the Army men of the vampire threat? And can he save Dex before Balthazar turns him into a vampire as well?<br />
<br />
<u><b>Excerpt</b></u>:<br />
Taking a few steps down the cellar ladder, Josh looked up at the blacksmith. "Come down with me, let me show you. And bring that candle."<br />
<br />
After Josh spent a few difficult minutes standing in the dark, rank root cellar alone, he was relieved to see Donegan's big boots clomp down the rungs of the ladder. The blacksmith had brought the candle, and he handed it over to Josh as his blue eyes darted from one shadowed corner to the other.<br />
<br />
They found the bodies in the furthest corner from the ladder, stretched out on the dirt floor, awaiting sundown. Their skin was cold and pale, and their chests did not rise and fall with breath. Josh held his cross to the skin of a woman's hand where it sizzled and wisps of smoke drifted up. When he removed the cross, it left behind a black mark that made Donegan swallow hard.<br />
<br />
"It burned her," Donegan whispered. "Like you said." He stared at the bodies laid out before them, and then looked at Josh. "What do we do now?"<br />
<br />
"We have to drive a wooden stake into their hearts," Josh said.<br />
<br />
"That's murder!" Donegan backed up toward the ladder. "You have truly lost your mind, Josh Stanton. First you shot Agnes, we all know that. And you might have killed Sheriff Haden and Deputy Underwood for all's I know."<br />
<br />
"Donegan!" Josh called his name in a sharp voice, and the man stopped his retreat to glare at him. "If I was to put a stake in a living person's heart, what would happen?"<br />
<br />
"They'd die!"<br />
<br />
"But they'd bleed, too, right?" Josh held the candle out to him. "They'd bleed red blood and die, yes? Watch closely."<br />
<br />
He turned back to the bodies and drew a stake from the bag he carried slung over his shoulder. Holding it over the chest of a man whose name he had never learned while the man had been living, Josh took a breath before bringing it down hard. The man's eyes opened, burning red coals of pure hatred. He grabbed at Josh as thick black blood bubbled and poured from his mouth, his lips pulled back from pointed fangs.<br />
<br />
Josh scooted back from the mess of blood and filth as the man's arms dropped and his head thumped back to the dirt. His skin flaked away and his body crumbled in on itself as he turned to dust.<br />
<br />
"Sweet Jesus," Donegan said.<br />
<br />
"We have to kill as many of them as we can while the sun is up," Josh said. "Or they'll continue to create more vampires and we'll lose not just Belkin's Pass, but every town out to each coast."<br />
<br />
Donegan took a breath and fixed Josh with a hard gaze. "I don't got a quarrel with you, Josh Stanton. And I never talked about you or your Momma behind your back like them other folks in town. I was all for giving you a chance to make a new life with Agnes when she took you in."<br />
<br />
Josh nodded and wiped sweat from his forehead, wondering where Donegan was going with his speech. "I appreciate that, Donegan."<br />
<br />
"But hear me clear right now." Donegan held up a thick, dirty finger. "If you are lying to me, I will turn you in to the law as fast as I can. I don't know how you might be trickin' me here with all this, but mark my words good, if it's all a lie, if you drug me into committing sin with deception, I'll take what blame I have comin' to make sure you get justice. We understood?"<br />
<br />
A respect for the blacksmith prevented Josh from laughing at the man. Donegan had been through a lot, most folks in town knew he had drank and laid with whores plenty until a few months ago. No one knew why he suddenly changed his ways, and Josh knew now was not the right time to ask.<br />
<br />
"I understand," Josh said. "And it's no trick, I swear. Sometimes I wish to God it was."<br />
<br />
Donegan nodded. "All right then, let's get this done."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
~~ * ~~</div>
<br />
Whew, gives me shivers myself reading it again, and I wrote it! Jump on over to <a href="https://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-mainstream/stakes-spurs-venom-valley-book-two/#.UhDo6rykB6w" target="_blank">Wilde City Press</a> this Wednesday and grab a copy for yourself. The email sent after your order is completed will contain a variety of formats perfect for Kindle, Nook, or iPad. Get it while it's hot and find out if Josh can rescue Dex before Balthazar turns him into a vampire and prepare yourself for the third book releasing later this year, <span style="color: red;"><i><b>BLOOD & STONE</b></i></span>.<br />
<br />
Happy Monday!Hankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-57146550626116595312013-08-05T05:05:00.000-05:002013-08-05T19:32:05.464-05:00And let the babble begin...<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><i><span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Woo Hoo—Havan here...hehe<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My turn to wow you, but I think I'm all out of that magic wow'g powder that you have to order off of e-bay in mass bulk...so I'll try for a couple minutes of babbling instead...because I can do babble...lmao<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, I've been seriously busy trying to get an old fave SO book of mine finished...maybe a few of you will remember a character of mine named Jude? Yep, I'm working on getting Judging Jude out to you all—seriously giving it an overhaul and you should see the new ending to it...it even made me—um you'll have to wait for that *winks*.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(um...now would be a GREAT time to thank a certain special someone for his patience with me and this darn story...lol)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But in thinking about Jude – I can't help but be all hip-hip-hooray for a few other stories the Story Orgy put out that are getting their time in the spotlight!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Both Em Woods and Lee Brazil have books either just released or available for pre-order...so let the pimping start! *winks*<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lee Brazil's nod to the SO that just got released...AND...is already a best-seller at ARe is <i><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hisadmirer-1252364-149.html" target="_blank">His Admirer</a></i>...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">And Em's release will be available in September, but you can pre-order it now—</span><i style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"><a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2303" target="_blank">Harper's Discovery</a></i><span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">...added to and re-edited with a shiny new cover too!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, if you are feeling nostalgic for the Story Orgy here are two (almost three lol) ways to help ya – we always aim to please...and hell, sometimes when we don't aim we still please...*innocent grin*<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hope to see you all back here again next Monday<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">*waves*</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-51781683694844099802013-07-29T05:00:00.000-05:002013-07-29T05:00:12.469-05:00Missing Madeline...Good Monday morning, friends! Hank here, filling in for JR Boyd this time around. I've got a special treat for all you zombie fans out there. Havan and Lee challenged me to write a flash fiction piece based on the photo below. Havan mentioned zombies and I took the idea and ran with it. So, as a pre-cursor to my upcoming release from Wilde City Press <a href="https://www.wildecity.com/books/gay-mainstream/stakes-spurs-venom-valley-book-two/#.UfW7s1OkCRQ" target="_blank"><b><i>Stakes & Spurs - Venom Valley Book Two</i></b></a>, I'm posting it here to share with all of you!<br />
<br />
We've got some fun stuff planned for you the last half of the year in Story Orgy land (ville? topia?). We're finishing up a fun anthology filled with never before seen stories, all written around the concept of bad boyfriends (and who amongst us hasn't had one or two of those in their past, am I right?). And we're also planning to release an anthology of Christmas themed flash fiction pieces later this year, so be sure you're nice while you're being naughty so you aren't left off Santa's list. ;-)<br />
<br />
Now, without further ado, enjoy something creepy crawly and slightly sexy. You can thank <b>Havan</b> and <b>Lee</b> for the nightmares.<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Missing Madeline</h2>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
by Hank Edwards</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
(c) 2013</h3>
<br />
Scott stood with his back against the brick wall. He listened to the shuffle of feet just outside the alley <br />
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and watched the long shadows stagger past. The sounds had been the worst part of the zombie apocalypse at first, but not anymore. Scott had come to realize the smell was the worst part. He could deal with the moaning and shuffling, the click and scrape of fingernails that kept on growing as every other part rotted away. But the smell was definitely worse.<br />
<br />
He'd thought coming back to his hometown just outside Toledo had been a good idea. But his parents' house had been in ruins. He'd taken hope that they had survived long enough to flee by the evidence of packed suitcases. Scott had scavenged a few mementos—some photos and keepsakes—and shown them to Troy in the quiet hours they spent together. Talking about the past, the good times with family, seemed to calm Troy down. He'd been a mess when Scott had found him on campus, and though they'd only been seeing other a couple of weeks, Scott had felt protective of the man.<br />
<br />
And the fact that Troy was incredibly handsome and well-hung didn't hurt, either. If you're going to live through a zombie apocalypse, you might as well be getting some, and getting it good.<br />
<br />
The herd of undead ambled off along the street and Scott let out a quiet breath. He gave the zombies another five minutes before he reached down and picked up the backpack stuffed with supplies. Things were getting more scarce, they'd have to consider moving soon. Maybe find a car—plenty to choose from—and head down south for the winter.<br />
<br />
He hustled, ducked, and darted back to the luxury hotel where they had established their latest home. A clot of zombies staggered around the middle of an intersection, and Scott crept around them, distracting himself with thoughts of Troy. He thought about touching the man, sucking him, feeling Troy's hard length push inside him, and the way it left Scott stretched wide and filled with cum.<br />
<br />
Second best thing about a zombie uprising: nobody used condoms.<br />
<br />
Using the old throw-a-rock trick, Scott sent the zombies staggering off away from the hotel's back entrance then slipped inside the dark, cool back hallway.<br />
<br />
Up in the penthouse, the smell of death was strong, and Scott checked to see if Troy had opened windows, but they were sealed shut. Scott figured the smell had gathered in his clothes and up his nose.<br />
<br />
"Troy?" Scott called. "You here?"<br />
<br />
Troy walked quickly out of the hall leading to the two bedrooms, his smile wide and eyes flashing with excitement. "Hi honey!"<br />
<br />
Scott frowned. Troy hadn't been handling his family's gruesome fate well, but this demeanor was a new level of crazy.<br />
<br />
"Hi. You okay?" Scott asked, a little nervous to hear Troy's reply.<br />
<br />
"Uh huh, I'm great. I have a surprise for you."<br />
<br />
A thump sounded from the end of the hall.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Scott asked, hand dropping to the handle of the gun at his waist.<br />
<br />
"That's your surprise. Come see."<br />
<br />
Scott followed Troy down the hall, his gaze dropping of its own will to the man's fine, rounded ass. He admitted to himself he was a little bummed to not find Troy wearing only an apron and cooking dinner like the last time he had come back from a run. But there was time, right? All the time in the world.<br />
<br />
Troy stopped at the door to the second bedroom, the one where they stored clothes and the overflow of canned goods. He turned and smiled at Scott. "You know I've been missing my family."<br />
<br />
A nervous flutter went through Scott's stomach. "Yeah."<br />
<br />
"It really tore me up," Troy said, and his voice cracked as tears gathered in his eyes.<br />
<br />
"Oh, honey." Scott started to step forward but Troy held up a hand.<br />
<br />
"No, it's okay. I've come to terms with it."<br />
<br />
Scott kind of doubted that, but he held his tongue.<br />
<br />
"So when you've gone out on supply runs, I've been going out on investigative runs."<br />
<br />
"Investigative runs?"<br />
<br />
Troy nodded and the bright smile returned. "Uh huh. I've been tracking down someone special." He reached for the doorknob.<br />
<br />
Scott wanted to make Troy stop. He wanted him to not open that door, to never open that door, and he wanted him to not be as crazy as he feared he already was. But Troy had already grabbed the doorknob and turned it.<br />
<br />
The smell rushed out at him and Scott gagged and took a step back, covering his nose and mouth as his eyes watered. He squinted against the stench and then widened his eyes as he saw what Troy had done.<br />
<br />
Scott's mother, Madeline, stood in the middle of their spare room. She had been chained by the ankle to the foot of the four poster bed and it kept her from reaching them as she lurched forward. Her eyes—once so blue—were clouded and held no spark of recognition. Her teeth were stained and a deep gash marred the right side of her face.<br />
<br />
Her right arm had been torn off, leaving the sleeve of her lightweight sweater—a sweater Scott had given her for her birthday two years ago—dangling at her side.<br />
<br />
"I invited your Mom for dinner!" Troy said, and Scott was terrified by what he now realized was a gleam of psychosis in the man's eyes.<br />
<br />
"She seems real nice," Troy said, looking back at Madeline who still tried to get to them, bite them, eat them. He winked at her and then turned to whisper to Scott, "I think she likes me."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
~~ END ~~</div>
<br />
Well, Story Orgy friends and fans, I hope you enjoyed my little undead treat on this last Monday of July. Come back next week when another Story Orgy member will leave you a little treat. I hope you have a great work week and a fantastic start to the month of August. I'll be back in another six weeks with some more tantalizing goodies. Until then, be safe and be kind to each other. Hankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-16848505275599307902013-07-22T08:51:00.000-05:002013-07-22T08:51:46.364-05:00His Admirer: Last Year's Prompt Story Set To Make A New Appearance! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpZRRxdFl75eEHPBsWgJFXXtWwDQK2vMZn6FAIvEG_8bLKKN_Bm8wZ_V7FCOGxqU94b8htKaTNnY3VNHWRpnYB5qgX614QPNmzXPlGNhyphenhyphenCqArlxFeDrk4SN4R35L_Sw6UtOIC2GE5BGs0c/s1600/HisAdmirer_ARe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpZRRxdFl75eEHPBsWgJFXXtWwDQK2vMZn6FAIvEG_8bLKKN_Bm8wZ_V7FCOGxqU94b8htKaTNnY3VNHWRpnYB5qgX614QPNmzXPlGNhyphenhyphenCqArlxFeDrk4SN4R35L_Sw6UtOIC2GE5BGs0c/s1600/HisAdmirer_ARe.jpg" /></a><b><br /></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>His Admirer is newly edited, revised and expanded for publication! </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It should be available at ebook sellers everywhere in early August. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>So How about a quick peak at the revised version of Zeke and Gabe's story?</b></div>
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Chapter One <o:p></o:p></div>
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"Battle: Salmon!" Kenji
Fukui had just announced the ingredient in the first ever Iron Chef battle,
when the familiar yet unexpected rap came on my door. Typically, my traitorous
heart pounded, and anticipation stirred. It had to be Gabe, with that silly
patterned knock. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I jumped off the couch and smiled
weakly at my sister. "Um…"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She frowned at me. "Zeke? Is
that him? I thought we were gonna hang out tonight? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mindy and I were hardly dressed for
company. She'd been home all summer, and we'd scarce spent any time together.
Tonight was supposed to be for us, back to back episodes of our favorite campy
television program, watching the judges gush over fish gut ice cream, and Ben
and Jerry's by the tub. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
We'd planned, plotted, and finagled
for this night of twin bonding. Why the hell was Gabe banging on our door? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Yeah. It's him. I…" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She waved a spoonful of Chunky
Monkey in my direction. "Go. See what he wants, but if you're not back in
before the end of the show, I'm going to eat the Chubby Hubby, too."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mindy was great like that.
"Thanks, Mindy. I swear, I did not double book on this night." The
little excited pitter patter of my heart wouldn't let me be too mad at Gabe
though. He was a busy guy, and I didn't see him as often as I'd like. The habit
he'd developed lately of dropping by without notice, though, bothered me. On the
one hand, I considered as I strolled to the front door, it meant he was
comfortable and happy in our relationship, which I had to see as a plus. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
On the other, it seemed that
expecting me to be home and available without notice struck me as taking
advantage. I didn't care for that at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I pulled open the front door and was
assaulted by two completely different types of heat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
One was due to the late evening
humidity and the high temperatures, but the other was all Gabe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Tall, broad shouldered, thickly
muscled, with his brilliant light blue eyes and, ummm, the scent of hard work
clinging to him. The quirky little grin on his lips told me he'd noted my
interest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Hey," I forced the words
past my suddenly dry mouth. A drop of sweat beaded on his brow and I watched it
trickle down his temple and into the faint stubble of his jaw.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Hey, yourself." Gabe
leaned forward and my vision blurred as he kissed me. I might have fallen on my
ass if he hadn't held me up with his arm around my waist. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
When did that happen? I chased his
lips for another kiss, savoring the taste of man and mint and the mingled odors
of outdoors and wood and sweat that comprised Gabe. No fancy cologne had ever
done it for me like the natural smells that clung to Gabe after a day of work. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Did, um…" My voice faded
as he shifted his focus to nibble at my neck, tugging aside the neckline of my
Dolce and Gabbana tee. It felt so damn good, the nip and suck of his mouth
along my collarbone that I couldn't even bring myself to protest the potential
ruination of my favorite designer wear. Closing my eyes, I let the sensations
sweep through me, the rough caress of his stubbled jaw on my skin, the slick
glide of his tongue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Zeke? I’m opening the Chubby
Hubby!" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Mindy hollered from the back of the
house, breaking the fog of lust that had begun to drown me. I pushed gently
against Gabe's chest, shivering a little as the muscles bunched under my touch.
He pulled back and smiled down at me, lips glistening, tempting me to toss
aside the night I'd planned and dive right back into his mouth and the passionate
interlude it promised. "Did we have plans?" Was that my voice, so
deep and husky? If I could sound like that all the time I'd be a radio DJ not
an aspiring chef. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"No, I finished up an
installation <a href=""></a>at your neighbor around
the block's place and thought I'd stop by on the off chance that you'd be
here. When I saw the car in the drive I figured I'd stop."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I was mesmerized by the drops of
water gliding down his nose and cheeks, by the flush on his skin and the
sparkle in his eye. That was the only excuse I could think of for what happened
next. Blinded by lust. "Come in. Mindy's here but we can go to my
room."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
The door swung shut behind him and
he spun me around against the wall for another kiss. I couldn't help arching up
into him, grinding my cock against his thigh in search of a little relief from
the ache of need that had blossomed with the first sight of him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"He gone now?" Mindy
shouted again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Am I interrupting?" Gabe
whispered against my lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I jerked back to reality with a
crash. Gabe stared at me, a little frown between his brows. I rubbed it away
with my thumb. "No," I called back. "You got your pants on?
We're coming back there."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I grabbed Gabe's hand and half
dragged him down the hall to the family room. "We were just cuddled <span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span>up back here
eating ice cream and watching some Iron Chef," I explained. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Okay." He accepted my
assertion, but how would Mindy react?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She gave me a telling frown when I
dragged Gabe into the room behind me. "Hey, Min. You don't mind if Gabe
joins us, do you?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
The frown vanished to be replaced
by a polite smile. "No, come on in." Mindy swung her bare legs off
the couch and dropped the Chunky Monkey container on the coffee table. "In
fact, since you're here to keep my baby brother company, I think I'll just go
on back to my room and make a few phone calls."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"You don't have to do that,
Mindy," I protested. "We only have a few weeks left before you go
back." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
She did that thing I hate where she
flips her hair over her shoulder and acts dumb. "Yeah, but I got to call
some people up there and make sure that everything is set for my apartment in
the fall."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Having stripped off his t-shirt, Gabe
slipped into the nest of blankets on the sofa and held an arm out to me. Mindy
rolled her eyes and flounced down the hall. I let go of my disappointment at
Mindy's exit and climbed into his lap. Tugging a blanket over us. Strangely
enough, my parents insisted on running the air conditioning at a consistent
seventy-two degrees all summer long, so no matter how hot it was outside, I always
felt a bit of a chill inside. My pop said it was more economical, and he wasn't
one to take into consideration the fact that I was freezing half the time, so I
wore flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt for this lounge night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"What are you watching?"
Gabe was staring at the television with an expression of something akin to
horror. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I glanced at the screen, where
Morimoto was hacking the head off a huge salmon. "Classic Iron Chef. It's
fantastic. Have you ever seen it? They make all this really beautiful food,
using parts of the ingredient that we'd never use in America."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Okay." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, I
shrugged and settled myself closer against him. "It's DVR'ed. If you want
to watch something else, the remote is on the table behind you. I've seen this
a million times anyway."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
His sigh of relief jostled me as I
rested my cheek against his chest. When Gabe stretched back to reach behind for
the remote, I nuzzled his arm pit, soaking up the scents of him, feeling my
senses reel with the intensity of his presence. I blew out a breath and he
jerked, grabbing my ass with one hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"That tickles!" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"I know." I licked a
stripe down from his
pit to his nipple and set about amusing
myself as he switched the channel to something that sounded like football. The
tangy salt of sweat and the underlying flavor of soap and Gabe's skin enticed
me to continue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Strong fingers combed through my
hair, holding me in place as I took a lick of a taut brown nipple. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
Sighing, Gabe pushed me closer, and
I knew what he wanted. I sucked the nub into my mouth, flicked it with my
tongue until his fingers clenched and he groaned. "Your sister?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"She's not going to come back
out here. That was her not so subtle way of telling me to get some when she
left earlier." I tipped back and dragged my tongue up his Adam's apple,
over his chin to settle my mouth against his again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
I licked and nibbled and teased
until he took over the kiss, pressuring my mouth apart, crushing our lips
together so he could plunge his tongue to the depths of my mouth. I sucked his
tongue, rubbed against it with my own. We strained together, until I slowly
became aware that I was humping against him furiously. Cock creating a wet spot
on my pj's, lungs practically burning from lack of oxygen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
It was my turn to pull back, and he
nearly refused to let me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
"Wait." I pushed upright,
so I sat a stride his lean hips. Thrusting up, he brushed the ridge of his
cock, straining at the zip of his jeans, against my crease. "Yeah, I want
that," I murmured, pulling my T-shirt up over my head and tossing it to
the side. "But I don't have anything in here."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
His eyes nearly crossed, and his
grip on my hips tightened. "We can go to your room, or you can lift off me
so I can get my wallet out."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-25809190683438886622013-06-17T04:00:00.000-05:002013-06-17T04:00:00.801-05:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Hello everybody. It's me...JR Boyd. I certainly hope everybody had a safe and happy Father's Day weekend. It's hot here in Texas and I couldn't think of anything better for you than a hot and steamy story. So, I decided to rifle through my archives to kill two birds with one stone. One, I spared myself some time to spend with my daddy and my family. Two, I get the chance to share some of this Texas heat with you. I hope you enjoy it. It's one of my faves. Feel free to let me know what you think *wink*.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And without further ado...here's Digging Deep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Digging Deep</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shayne laughed as he closed his cell phone. “Apparently, you
have made quite the impression on my brother, Dillon.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you mean, Mr. Standeven?” Dillon’s pace quickened
as he tried to keep up with his long-legged senior.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shayne turned to his intern. “My brother wants to go out
with you. And, since we’re in town, I told him you would meet him this
evening.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But, Mr. Standeven-” Dillon’s eyes widened, his voice two
octaves higher than normal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The archaeologist quickly changed the subject. “This is
it. <i>This</i> is the site for our next dig.” Shayne let his satchel
strap slide down his arm as he knelt to the ground.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mr. Standeven, I simply cannot-”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is the kind of dirt we will be working with.” Shayne
tapped the hard ground with a rock. “As you can see, it’s going to take most
near every tool and piece of equipment-”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Damn it, Mr. Standeven! I am your intern. Not a callboy.
You can’t just pimp me out to your brother like that. I don’t even <i>know</i> your
brother.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shayne stood, his full height causing him to tower over
Dillon. He placed a hand on Dillon’s shoulder and peered down into his eyes.
“Dillon, please. I understand it may be awkward. But it’s not any more awkward
for you than it is for me. My brother just wants to meet you. That’s all. And,
frankly, I have a hard time talking about his sexuality with him. It felt good
to be able to do this.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon dug the heel of his boot into the dry ground. “I
can’t believe this.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just meet him in town. That’s all I ask.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Alright. But you owe me, Mr. Standeven.” Dillon eyed his
boss as the older man's focus shifted again to the dirt under their feet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon gazed into the evening sky as the sun sank behind the
buildings. The hustle and bustle of the town square made his head swim. With
drifting thoughts, Dillon barely noticed the lights come on as the downtown
lamp post cast its glow over him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dillon? Dillon Ezparza?” The voice was as gentle as a
breeze rustling through a field of wheat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sexy voice drew Dillon from his trance. He blinked once,
brought the other man into focus as he extended his hand between
them. “Nathan Standeven…” Dillon smiled. “What a delight it is to
finally meet you.” Dillon looked him over and what he saw caused his cock to
throb against his jeans.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do believe the pleasure is mine.” Nathan’s face lit up
with joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon’s attraction for Nathan took him totally off guard.
Ogling the full length of his date’s body, Dillon knew he couldn't hide what he
was thinking. <i>Holy shit. He’s hot!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right there in front of the movie theater, uncaring of who
watched, Nathan cupped Dillon’s jaw settling his mouth over Dillon’s. Dillon
welcomed Nathan’s tongue as it slid past his parted lips. <i>Coffee. He
tastes like coffee and chocolate.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEgZLuBUF9EgZ2VoZtPklpiIv1fWS3FV29G-qIo2g23XR5WJhjGKs_zXCdLmAhO_jcUXoxfIwAVJKEHgpypYBNGjnTeHUYWBJArgi-hsn9utJpPT2bTPFvrUSFUFAQsytGX57U8guraW2/s1600/Digging+Deep+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEgZLuBUF9EgZ2VoZtPklpiIv1fWS3FV29G-qIo2g23XR5WJhjGKs_zXCdLmAhO_jcUXoxfIwAVJKEHgpypYBNGjnTeHUYWBJArgi-hsn9utJpPT2bTPFvrUSFUFAQsytGX57U8guraW2/s1600/Digging+Deep+Image.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon groaned into his lover’s mouth. “I need you. Right
now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon led his boss’s brother to his van, clamoring in a
twist of arms and legs to the bench seat in the back. He meshed his rigid cock
with Nathan’s as moans filled the van.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nathan grunted, reached for Dillon’s shirt. “Too many
clothes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fueled by desire and the scent of hot flesh, Dillon stripped
quickly, his cock throbbing with the mix of cool night air and Nathan sans
clothing. When Nathan lifted off the seat to shove his pants down his legs,
Dillon gripped his hips and flipped Nathan over. He spread Nathan’s ass cheeks
and slathered the alluring manhole with his wet tongue.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But only for a minute. Nathan had something else in mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Turn around here and let me taste that fat cock of yours.”
Nathan ordered, pulling away to lay on his back across the seat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A final flick over Nathan’s asshole, and Dillon turned
around and straddled his lover’s face. Dillon swiped his hard cock across
Nathan’s moist lips as he took great pleasure in gulping down the well-endowed
prick that danced before him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unable to control himself any longer, Dillon rocked his hips
forward. Dillon felt Nathan’s throat tighten around his prick. Sounds of
slurping and gagging spurred Dillon’s craving for satisfaction.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nathan’s ability to deep throat sent Dillon’s eyes rolling back
and made him yearn for even more of his date’s cock in his throat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gasping for a quick breath of air, Nathan cried out. “Fuck
my face, baby. Shove that cock!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nathan’s fingers dug into Dillon’s ass cheeks. And at the
same time, he also received another few inches of dick in his throat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a final thrust of his cock and plunge of his mouth,
Dillon ensured both cocks were buried deep. Muffled moans filled the van as
lust washed over the backs of their throats.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dillon swallowed one last time then turned around. He
grinned, loving the sparkle in Nathan’s pretty blue eyes. “This show is playing
tomorrow night too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
~The End~</div>
JR Boydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108844428364907043noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-91842673626682132222013-06-02T22:43:00.000-05:002013-06-02T22:43:48.920-05:00Did you read that book? <div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Ahem…
*straightens and tries to act cool* Hello, Jade’s here. I hope everybody’s
doing well. As for me… well, I have a confession to make… *breathes deeply* I
totally forgot that I was the one to post this week. I know, I’m not proud of
myself. Fortunately, my beautiful yang was there for me and reminded me
yesterday that I was supposed to post something today. Then I spent the whole
night trying to figure out what I could talk to you about. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcuDgfcsEa00G7RV6dxYHQdIpbOWqdJKsnuZNfVk8cgGdx17HxZEMtjVCaDKmWaIGc5y7Y1SZXdYlvW_TwO8sZbufqxf5etLxlrzIsKL1fxFT1s7AZ2Nh1SaRBEn22zikRFHE7Mh5tV_O/s1600/39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">I have to
tell you, I’ve been very busy translating, and I didn’t do much more lately. I
only take a break during my breakfast and read a book (not a whole book, I don’t
have that kind of time, but little by little…) Anyway, I’m re-reading a series
right now, and I decided to have you guess which book it is, along with the
author of course. Now, there’s nothing to win since I don’t have any book to
share, so it’s only for the pleasure of it.</span><span style="color: black;"> (And no, it's not from any of the Story Orgy's writer.)</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Ready?
Here we go:</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcuDgfcsEa00G7RV6dxYHQdIpbOWqdJKsnuZNfVk8cgGdx17HxZEMtjVCaDKmWaIGc5y7Y1SZXdYlvW_TwO8sZbufqxf5etLxlrzIsKL1fxFT1s7AZ2Nh1SaRBEn22zikRFHE7Mh5tV_O/s1600/39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcuDgfcsEa00G7RV6dxYHQdIpbOWqdJKsnuZNfVk8cgGdx17HxZEMtjVCaDKmWaIGc5y7Y1SZXdYlvW_TwO8sZbufqxf5etLxlrzIsKL1fxFT1s7AZ2Nh1SaRBEn22zikRFHE7Mh5tV_O/s400/39.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Ask
me,” Phillip demanded. “Ask me what I like.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What,”
Jonathan stumbled as Phillip licked at his skin again, “what do you like?” He
sounded as if he had run all the way from Edinburgh. He knew he should be
embarrassed, but God he was enjoying every moment of Phillip’s torture. How he
had longed to be on the receiving end of it all the times he had seen Phillip
fuck a woman.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I
like your body.” Phillip pressed his nose against Jonathan’s arm and ran it
down until he breathed deeply of the scent in Jonathan’s armpit. “I like the
way you smell, especially now, musky from fucking all night and ready to fuck
again. I love how muscular you are, how dark and sinful you look.” He paused
and pulled away to look down. Slowly his hands came back down to rest against
Jonathan’s stomach. Jonathan followed his look, watched his own stomach muscles
contract at the sensual touch. He stopped breathing as he watched Phillip’s
hand smooth down until it covered his cock. “But I love this best—your
magnificent cock. For so many years I’ve watched it grow to impossible lengths,
and so quickly. God, you’re so quick to arouse, you walk around half-hard all
the time. It’s been a constant torture for me, Jonathan. When you would strip
and I’d watch you fuck it into a woman, I’d nearly spill my seed at the sight.
When you brought yourself with your hand in my study not long ago, did you know
I was doing the same under the desk? The sight of you masturbating made me come
so hard, when I cried out your name pretending to be Maggie, it was really me,
Jonathan. I came with your name on my lips.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Phillip,”
Jonathan moaned, his head twisting against the wall as Phillip began to rub his
cock through the thin cloth separating them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Phillip
leaned back in but didn’t remove his hand from Jonathan’s cock. The resulting
pressure made Jonathan groan and thrust into him. Phillip took his mouth
tenderly, the thrust of his tongue matching the glide of his hand. Jonathan’s
hands fisted where they still rested against the wall. He could stand it no
longer and lowered his arms, once again ramming his hands into Phillip’s hair.
Phillip broke the kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Phillip
was breathing heavily, as heavily as Jonathan. “Do you know what I’d really
like, Jonathan?” he whispered against his lips. “What I’ve imagined doing
countless times? I want to suck it, Jonathan. I want to take the whole great
length of that beautiful cock into my mouth and I want to suck it hard, and
lick your balls and swallow you, every drop that I wring from it. That’s what
I’m going to do, Jonathan.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A
sob tore from Jonathan’s mouth as he felt Phillip restlessly tear open the
buttons on his breeches. Phillip stepped back and pushed the now open garment
down over Jonathan’s hips, exposing Jonathan’s long, thick cock, nearly purple
with arousal. “Every time I watched a woman go down and suck this, I was
insanely jealous. My mouth watered just imagining it. Now it’s mine, Jonathan.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jonathan
had been looking down at his own cock, but at Phillip’s words his head fell
back against the wall with an audible thunk. Phillip glanced up in surprise.
“Are you all right?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I
will be if you mean what you say,” he said weakly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Phillip
laughed, the sound more seductive than humorous. “Oh I mean it.” He lowered
himself to his knees in front of Jonathan, and Jonathan could hardly stand. His
knees went weak with desire at the sight of Phillip getting ready to suck his
cock</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">So? Hot isn’t
it? I know, I could have given you more, but I can’t copy and paste the whole
book, now can I? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-45792218789726964992013-05-27T08:15:00.002-05:002013-05-27T08:15:52.892-05:00Memorial Day Flashback - Cram Night by Hank EdwardsGood Memorial Day Monday everyone! Hank Edwards here, and it's my turn up at bat for the Story Orgy weekly post ... and damned if I didn't forget about it last night! Too much three day weekend celebrating, apparently!<br />
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Anyway, since it's Memorial Day, I thought I'd not only give thanks and appreciation to the veterans who have fought and sacrificed for our country, but also post an oldie but a goodie. This is a short based on one of the photos that lovely Jade found for us before the Internet went on a photo copyright lock down. So I won't post the photo, but I'll post my story. It's also set in a college frat house, and since a lot of colleges have already or are going through finals right now, it seemed appropriate, yes?<br />
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I hope you all are having a great weekend, are safe and with those you love, and you enjoy the story.<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Cram Night</h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
by Hank Edwards</h3>
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(c) June 2011 </h4>
<i>Advanced Biology sucked.</i><br />
<br />Ash thumped his forehead down onto the text book opened before him and let out a deep sigh. He was going to fail this midterm exam, and then he would fail the final (<i>cumulative, of course</i>), and then he would need to figure out a new major… <i>again</i>!<br />
<br />“It’s tough, isn’t it?”<br /><br />
The deep voice brought Ash’s head up fast and he found himself looking along the tall, strong body of none other than Mike Sutton, up and coming baseball star.<br /><br />
Ash blinked up at him and heard a “Huh?” come out of his mouth before he could stop it.<br />
<br />Mike grinned. “Advanced Biology. It’s a bitch. May as well be written in Taiwanese.” He pulled out the chair across from Ash and sat down. “Mike Sutton.”<br /><br />
Ash nodded, staring in dumfounded amazement at the gorgeous man before him.<br /><br />
Mike’s grin widened to a smile. “And you’re Ashton Bancroft, right?”<br /><br />
“Ash,” he corrected automatically, and blushed. “Sorry. My friends call me Ash.”<br /><br />
“Well, good to know I’m considered a friend.”<br /><br />
Ash looked around the library at the students studying around them. No one was paying them any attention, all were absorbed in their own studying nightmares. He turned back to Mike and said, “We’ve never talked before, but I’ve seen you. I mean, in class, of course, and, you know, in the dorm.”<br /><br />
Mike nodded and gestured to the book. “How’s the studying coming?”<br /><br />
Ash grimaced. “Not well.”<br /><br />
“Want to team up and cram together?”<br /><br />
The image that popped into Ash’s mind had nothing to do with studying and a lot to do with biology, and before he knew it, he was nodding.<br /><br />
“Let’s go back to my dorm room,” Mike suggested as he stood up and towered over Ash, the table, and pretty much everything else in the library. “My roommate’s spending the night with his girlfriend so we won’t be interrupted.”<br /><br />
Ash jumped to his feet and nearly dropped his text book and notebook in his haste to gather up his belongings and stuff them in his back pack. He grabbed his iPod and hurriedly wound the ear buds around the device, all the while trying to hide the bulge of his erection behind the back of the chair where he’d been sitting.<br />
<br />As they walked across campus, passing through the lengthening shadows of buildings and trees in the setting sun, Mike asked Ash what kind of music he listened to. Ash blushed, but admitted his love for jazz and big band music. Mike pulled an impressed face and nodded.<br />
<br />“I would not have guessed that,” Mike said. “I’m even more intrigued.”<br />
<br />Ash let that comment pass. He had too much to do, what with controlling his hard on and not letting out his usual donkey bray of a nervous laugh whenever he was around an attractive man, to dwell on what “intrigued” meant to Mike Sutton.<br />
<br />Before Ash knew it, they were walking into Mike’s dorm room. The place was small with two single beds on either side of the room, two desks, and posters of bikini clad women posed on kegs, sports teams, and concerts. It was also incredibly warm, like, sauna warm.<br />
<br />“Wow,” Ash gasped. “It’s hot in here.”<br />
<br />Mike closed the door and immediately stripped off his polo shirt to expose his tanned, muscular, hair-covered torso. “Yeah, we’re up here on the top floor and get hit with the afternoon sun so we roast.” He strode to the single window and cranked it open. “Nice in the winter, but fucking tough in the summer. My roommate and I usually walk around in our underwear all the time.” Mike turned to looked at Ash. “You going to be okay studying up here?”<br />
<br />Ash dragged his gaze from the dark nubs of Mike’s nipples sitting high on the firm, round swells of his pecs, to the man’s clear green eyes and gulped as he felt a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “Yeah. Sure. Fine. Great.”<br />
<br />“Care if I strip down?” Mike unfastened the button of his jeans and raised his eyebrows, a half grin tipping up one side of his mouth.<br />
<br />Ash felt his head swing side to side as if of its own volition.<br />
<br />The jeans fell down Mike’s strong, sturdy, tree trunk sized legs, and he stood before Ash in a pair of white briefs that stretched across the length of his erection.<br />
<br />“I’m a bit of an exhibitionist,” Mike admitted with an adorable blush and a shrug. “So I get kind of turned on when I strip in front of someone.”<br />
<br /><i>Holy fucking shit, he’s beautiful.</i> Ash swallowed past a lump of lust in his throat and heard himself say, “I get turned on when you strip in front of me, too.”<br />
<br /> “Yeah?” Mike’s eyes dropped to the bulge in Ash’s jeans. “Prove it.”<br />
<br />Two balls of sweat raced down the side of Ash’s face as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt (<i>why the fuck did he wear a fucking button down shirt to the fucking library?</i>) until he finally peeled it off to expose his own smooth and firm chest. He kicked off his shoes and then pushed down his jeans to stand before Mike Sutton (<i>Mike fucking hot Sutton!</i>) in just his own bulging briefs and socks.<br />
<br />“You’re pretty hot, Ash,” Mike said and reached down to clutch his erection through his briefs. “Hotter than I’ve thought.”<br />
<br />“You—You’ve thought about me?” Ash asked.<br />
<br />Mike’s expression turned serious and he stepped toward Ash. “How about we talk later? Right now, we need to better understand Advanced Biology.”<br />
<br />The touch of Mike’s lips sent tingles burning along hundreds of thousands of Ash’s nerve endings. He didn’t know if it was the kiss, the temperature of the dorm room, or both that made his head spin, but he didn’t care. He went willingly as Mike pulled him up against his tanned, muscular body. The brush of Mike’s chest hair raised gooseflesh on his sweat-damp skin, and the long timber of Mike’s cock ground against Ash’s, pushing a groan up from somewhere deep in his chest.<br />
<br />“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Mike said between kisses.<br />
<br />“Me?” Ash managed to say.<br />
<br />“Oh yeah.” Mike pulled back and, holding Ash’s face between his large, warm palms, looked into his eyes. “I like quiet, mellow guys like you, with a tight, smooth body.” Another kiss and Mike’s hands slid beneath the waistband of Ash’s briefs to grab each of his ass cheeks and squeeze.<br />
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Moments later, their briefs were kicked aside and cocks sprang out toward each other, slapping together like swords. Ash wrapped fingers around Mike’s shaft and caught the man’s moan in an open-mouthed kiss. The cock (<i>so fucking big!</i>) pulsed in his hand as Ash stroked it, spreading the slick pre-cum down the shaft from the meaty head. <br />
<br />“Fuck, that feels good,” Mike said and took Ash’s dick in his big hand.<br />
<br />They kissed and stroked each other for a bit, until Ash felt himself getting close and pulled his hips back so his cock slipped from Mike’s hand. He kissed the man again, then got on his knees, trying not to think (<i>this is Mike-fucking-Sutton I’m about to suck!</i>) as he opened wide and put his mouth around Mike’s cock. The salty tang of sweat and the sharp zest of pre-cum burst across his tongue like fireworks.<br />
<br />“Oh, yes,” Mike said after a gasp. “Fuck yeah, suck my cock.”<br />
<br />Ash closed his eyes and followed orders. He wrapped one hand around the base of Mike’s shaft and tugged on his balls (<i>he fucking shaves his balls, oh my God, I’m about to come myself!</i>) as he sucked him hard and fast. Mike leaned back, hands fisted by his tight, muscular thighs and sweat running down his chest.<br />
<br />“I’m close, but not yet,” Mike gasped. “Ash, stop.”<br />
<br />Reluctantly, Ash slowed down and then let the rock hard prick fall from between his bruised lips. He looked up along Mike’s body and met his intense green-eyed gaze.<br />
<br />“I want to suck you,” Mike said and reached down to grab Ash beneath his arms, fingers digging into the damp hollows of his armpits as he pulled him to his feet. “Over here, on my bed.”<br />
<br />Mike pulled down the sheets of the bed beneath the concert and sports posters (<i>no big breasted bikini wearing women for him</i>) and stretched out on his side. “Let’s sixty-nine.”<br />
<br />Ash took a moment to drink in the sight of the man: all six-foot-five inches (<i>had to be</i>) of varsity baseball muscle, with size eleven (<i>at least!</i>) feet and a dick to match. <br />
<br />“You lay with your face by my dick and we’ll suck each other,” Mike explained, obviously taking Ash’s hesitation for naivete about what was involved in the position he had suggested.<br />
<br />“Yeah, I know about the position,” Ash said. “I was just looking at you for a moment.”<br />
<br />“Look later,” Mike said and reached down to stroke the long, hard length of his dick. “I’m ready to blow.”<br />
<br />That was all Ash needed to hear. He lay on his side with his feet under Mike’s pillow (<i>Mike sleeps on that pillow and my feet are under it!</i>) and again put his mouth over the hard, hot slab of meat. Mike grabbed Ash’s dick at the root and took his whole length in one swallow. A burst of light seemed to explode behind Ash’s eyelids and his body bucked at the damp, tight heat of Mike’s mouth on him. <br />
<br />Ash had had his cock sucked once before, but not like this. Back home, behind the single screen movie theater in his one-flashing-stoplight town, he and Gary White had one night exchanged blow jobs. Gary’s technique had been much different (<i>worse, it had been a lot worse</i>) than Mike’s, and now Ash understood what the big deal was when other guys talked about blow jobs. <br />
<br />And the best part was, Mike Sutton’s cock didn’t taste like Old Spice aftershave like Gary’s had. Ash still didn’t know what that was about, and he really didn’t care.<br />
<br />The slurp and stroke of their shared sucking brought each of them to a quick climax. Ash was the first to go, feeling the familiar spark and tingle start deep in his gut and then zip up the length of his dick. He huffed out a breath and grunted a warning, thinking Mike would take him out of his mouth. But the man surprised him by clamping his lips tighter around the shaft and taking his cock deep into his throat.<br />
<br />Ash thought he heard the wet pop of his first shot even though his cock was buried deep in Mike’s throat. As Mike nursed the cum from his cock, Ash sucked Mike’s prick harder, hungrier. A deep, animal grunt was the only warning he had before Mike’s dick bucked against his tongue and then his mouth was filled with hot, thick cum. Ash savored the biting taste of it, swirled it around Mike’s cock where it laid hard and hot along his tongue, then let it slide down his throat.<br />
<br /><i>Like oysters, only better because it’s fucking gorgeous Mike Sutton’s cum!</i><br />
<br />Mike sat up, his amazing abs tightening as he reached to pull Ash toward him for a cum-swapping kiss.<br />
<br />“I knew you’d be hot in bed,” Mike said.<br />
<br />“To be honest, I never thought I would be,” Ash replied.<br />
<br />Mike raised an eyebrow and Ash’s cock twitched. <br />
<br />“You haven’t been with a man before?” Mike asked.<br />
<br />Ash shrugged and, feeling himself blush, looked down to where his hand rested on Mike’s thigh, amazed at how casual he was lying here nude with the man. “I gave and received a blow job before with a guy back home, but that’s all.”<br />
<br />Mike leaned in for another kiss and whispered in his ear, “Baby, you are so going to ace Advanced Biology.”<br />
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Whew! I hope you enjoyed today's walk down Memory Lane! Come back next week when Jade posts a little something something for your pleasure! Enjoy your Monday, Memorial Day or not, and I'll be seeing you!<br />Hankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-20315945610772938542013-05-13T03:00:00.000-05:002013-05-13T07:54:13.013-05:00Confessions of my love affair...<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">I admit...I've got a problem. I'm talking about my obsession and sworn allegiance to...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">No...I'm not ending sentences on a cliffhanger to make you continue reading...*giggles* The answer was in the sentence above...let's recap...</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">I'm talking about my obsession and sworn allegiance to<o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: red; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 36pt; line-height: 115%;">...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcVFhZ2ngT6RfsF_J64aWv3PgeahHHreXAhQxCQYS5Fo08FKrqDDKUq_O9wQhwsIr5aJHQGUR7RUbrhVVbRPhwOct_m3ZGuyCPox3-eAw2UTniVE9O1RTSPKM9nc5CmtmI0w1kbZaKWPf/s1600/ellipses+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcVFhZ2ngT6RfsF_J64aWv3PgeahHHreXAhQxCQYS5Fo08FKrqDDKUq_O9wQhwsIr5aJHQGUR7RUbrhVVbRPhwOct_m3ZGuyCPox3-eAw2UTniVE9O1RTSPKM9nc5CmtmI0w1kbZaKWPf/s1600/ellipses+5.JPG" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13pt;">Yeah...those damn ellipses...they can tie me up and lick me down and redden my assets and I'll still come back and ask for more...*heads desk*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">Now I've gotten some slack for the way I type...some *waves hand in air* shall we say negative feedback? Why must I use ellipses...or dashes <i>(any kind of dash—I'm an equal opportunity dasher baby)</i> while I'm simply chit chatting...why do I do so many stage directions *gasps* while I am typing? Why...why—why *heads desk giggling*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">Because...I like it like that...ha!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">Well that...and the fact that I'm Italian and if you ever meet me in person you will see I'm huge on talking with my hands. While I'm driving I have to constantly be reminded that hands belong on the steering wheel—not waving and splaying and air spanking...evidently that is bad...lmao<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">But when I'm typing—whether it is here on a blog...or on Facebook <i>(and oh boy am I addicted to that place *face palm*)</i>...or chatting with friends—I'm always using ellipses, dashes and stage directions. It's a way for me to express my personality through simple words...a way to show you that I'm pausing for dramatic effect <i>(I do love being melodramatic...trust me on this one...lol)</i> or to allow my mind to split off on different tangents while still staying in the same conversation <i>(a personal fave of mine too...my daddy used to say that talking to me was like watching words shoot out of my mouth and having to string them together to keep up with my thought process *innocent smile*)</i> and evidently I'll add parenthesis to my growing love affair...*heads desk giggling*</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcXBhGmrdSeBWTmIMleDta-ZdjlfBjrscHAhzMtz7Y7IVvvNe9jUWksNc3aUbAYE4iS3m6QlKt8qeFIMEV6caU8yj-w2a_l9bxUgOGSODpQCCpo_ykGdkXfGEyWlCVZXjy2K0zYOEgedH/s1600/ellipses+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcXBhGmrdSeBWTmIMleDta-ZdjlfBjrscHAhzMtz7Y7IVvvNe9jUWksNc3aUbAYE4iS3m6QlKt8qeFIMEV6caU8yj-w2a_l9bxUgOGSODpQCCpo_ykGdkXfGEyWlCVZXjy2K0zYOEgedH/s1600/ellipses+3.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">Now...do I allow this to run on over into my professional writing? Hmmm...sure, to a certain extent. I know I have to be careful of my ellipse and dash usage in my WIPs...otherwise my editor will have a thing or two to say to me...hehe...so I think I overcompensate with commas...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">I will go on record right now as saying I do <i>NOT</i> have a love affair with commas...it's more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type of relationship only when I'm writing...as soon as the editing starts they storm off all huffy puffy with plans to ravage me again when a new WIP crosses my mind...those sneaky little freakers...hehe<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">Now...for anyone who knows me <i>(and at least partially loves/likes me...*eye roll*)</i> they know that my true master...the one that can really make me kneel and beg for it...is ellipses...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13pt;">*rereads blog post and sighs* and evidently I'm not gonna get over this affair anytime soon...*winks and giggles*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">This was previously published on the braZen authors blogsite last year. But I really really like this blog and wanted to share again...hehe *winks*<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br />Havanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06116528705614786647noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-26832778690287264692013-05-06T04:00:00.000-05:002013-05-06T06:52:05.864-05:00Story Orgy MondayWhoo Hoo! It's my week for the Story Orgy blogpost! I'm totally stoked. I can't wait to begin my writing again. I just recently completed my capstone class for my MBA and couldn't be happier. Now I can spend more time on all my unfinished projects. The following story came to me as I was trying to figure out a way to promote my new song. So, I hope you enjoy the short story as well as my song if you decide to purchase it. You can buy the single for only .99 cents. Here we go. Let's try something new.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b>A Song for the Soul</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
punched Terry right in the gut, leaving his ex on the floor trying to catch his
breath. "Just get the fuck out of my house and don't come back until I
have your stuff ready for you to pick up." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Terry
struggled to a stand with his hand on this chest. "Fine. You've made your
point. But, can I at least get a few of my things now? Like my toothbrush?
That'd be nice don't you think?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
pointed down the hallway to the bathroom while throwing an empty beer carton at
Terry." Here, put your bathroom stuff in here and take my duffle bag for
some clothes. Just hurry the fuck up. I'm sick of seeing your face. What you
did to me makes my stomach turn and my skin crawl. You disgust me, asshole."
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Terry tossed
the beer box across the room. "You're duffle bag is all I need. Calm down.
I'm going, I'm going." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Calm
down? You're asking me to calm down. You fucked another dude after you said I
was your only one! You said you loved me. You're just a player. No, you're not
even good enough to be a player. You're just a liar. A fucking dumbass liar at
that." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Terry
scrambled about, collecting the things he'll need for at least a few days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Hurry
your sorry ass up. You'll be fine. You're going to your momma's house
anyway." Trevor stomped across the room to the wet bar and made him a
martini. He couldn't help but shake his head, fighting back the tears. <i>Don't cry. Don't cry.</i> Trevor did his
best to hold onto his anger. The last thing he wanted was for Terry to see him
cry. Trevor's heart was broken, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to feel
that way. He had to be strong. Trevor thought about the song Terry had written
and made for him. Trevor had the song on his MP3 as well as his laptop and PC. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
did his best to ignore his thoughts of taking him back. "No, I can't do
that. Never will I allow myself to be anything less than my partner. My partner
will be equal," Trevor mumbled to himself as he plugged in his laptop and
sat on the sofa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"What
was that?" Terry called from the back of the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Just
talking to myself. Just get your shit and go." Trevor yelled back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As
Trevor began to play the song Terry had made for him, his heart melted, leaving
him with the pain he'd tried so hard to hide. Tears rolled down his cheek as
the song played discretely in his ear buds. <i>Damnit.
I knew I shouldn't have played that song.</i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eye. He quickly swiped the
tears from his face and turned. "What? You're not gone yet?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I'm
on my way out. I just wanted to let your know that I still care for you and
love you deeply. I accept my mistake and respect your decision. But, it will be
a long time before I'm over you. It may not seem like it now, but you're the
best thing that had every happened to me." Terry continued his spiel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As soon
as Trevor could get a word in, he said, "Terry. Sit." He firmly
slapped the cushion next to him. "We've been together for how long?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Six
years." Terry said with a smile. "And, by the way, that bit about me
cheating on you. That was never true. First, I wanted to distract you. I know.
It could've been with better taste. But, that's beside the point. We're as good
now as we ever were." Terry pushed the button on the stereo remote and set
the surround sound. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As soon
as the tune filled the room, Trevor let the tears fall. "You do love me.
You really do." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Come
on in guys!" Terry called. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A group
of friends came in through the back door, "Happy Anniversary!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
buried his face into Terry's shoulder, wiping his tears on Terry's shirt.
"I don't know what to say." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Well,
I know what I want to say. I love you and there's not a single soul I want to
be connected to and that's yours." Terry turned up the song and started
singing it, as if serenading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
crowd sang along and Trevor gave Terry a passionate kiss and said he was sorry
for even believing such rubbish. Trevor rubbed Terry's belly and said,
"Are you okay. I hit you pretty hard." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I'll
survive. Now, let's dance. After all, this is your song."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Trevor
reached his arms around Terry, stood, and swayed slowly to the music. Trevor
whispered, "I love you too." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aPe3J3tYNC39xJYk_pDsn5DQfAi1N15i2uKLlW6_up8p4yPyJpUFPzWa_idd1vCowateCa5lA2Lc96q_bU0VUbP2Xej7VQpbtX_D1YgKI9O5WGY6Le1dAYk1g_kBqytaIFGO5cVSY4Kf/s1600/Lonely+Miles+Cover+Art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aPe3J3tYNC39xJYk_pDsn5DQfAi1N15i2uKLlW6_up8p4yPyJpUFPzWa_idd1vCowateCa5lA2Lc96q_bU0VUbP2Xej7VQpbtX_D1YgKI9O5WGY6Le1dAYk1g_kBqytaIFGO5cVSY4Kf/s1600/Lonely+Miles+Cover+Art.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">*****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Thank
you all for taking the time to read this. By the way, there is really a song
that was written by me and dedicated to Nicholas. The song is being sold under
my real name James Boyd. If you're interested in hearing the song and
supporting my expenses to have it mastered, the links are below. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b>My song is the 11<sup>th</sup> song on the
album titled Lonely Miles. The name of the song is My Soul's Song. It was
written about my love for Nicholas. The song is only .99 cents and any
purchases would be most encouraging and thoughtful; Ratings would also be a
nice feature. Thank you. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Here are
the links: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">iTunes:<br />
</span><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/lonely-miles/id640631512" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/lonely-miles/id640631512</span></a><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br />
</span></u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br />
</span><a href="http://amazon.com/MP3:" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Amazon.com/MP3:</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br />
<br />
</span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lonely-Miles/dp/B00CJ0LS2I/ref=sr_shvl_album_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1366990266&sr=301-4" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://www.amazon.com/Lonely-Miles/dp/B00CJ0LS2I/ref=sr_shvl_album_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1366990266&sr=301-4</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
JR Boydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108844428364907043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-39318847086407816422013-04-29T04:00:00.000-05:002013-04-29T04:00:16.970-05:00My Turn Again?...Good morning! Grab your coffee and come on in, sit a spell. I've started a new project, something a little bit different for me, and well. Since you're here, I thought maybe you'd like a little advance sneak peek at it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Not </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;">going</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> to shilly-shally around much either, because, I"m kind of anxious </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">to</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> get back into it, you know? </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2oaRRfScvpGL-ienWX9uNSzMbb0ziHOd78XTXZiZQVn5_ePYn2VGyn2ebhWzehM7QsZnIsW7OupZLhRjMoadKI_zcDqwySXHCA5zxmWtqypdTWMg7I17JhcjlaL2FQinXkJQSQNuWREsU/s1600/taxi_by_cerberuseros-d625c23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2oaRRfScvpGL-ienWX9uNSzMbb0ziHOd78XTXZiZQVn5_ePYn2VGyn2ebhWzehM7QsZnIsW7OupZLhRjMoadKI_zcDqwySXHCA5zxmWtqypdTWMg7I17JhcjlaL2FQinXkJQSQNuWREsU/s320/taxi_by_cerberuseros-d625c23.jpg" width="223" /></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">This Dan Skinner photo is part of the inspiration for </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">this</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> piece....</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Every
Note<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Chapter
One<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ray
Bradbury's Dandelion Wine was Casey Addison's favorite book. It had held that
place of honor since a sophomore English teacher made it assigned reading to
her sixth period advanced placement class. In the twenty years since he'd read
it the first time, he'd never been without a copy, some battered thrift store
finds, others hard-backed and leather bound. He'd worn out more copies of
Dandelion Wine than Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven. He'd even traveled to
California to have a copy signed at the Long Beach Festival of books by the
great man himself. The novel was an unusual choice, but the single scene that
cemented it forever in Casey's memory was a short passage in which the main
character realized he was alive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Casey
revered that scene because he could pinpoint the exact moment in his own life
when he realized he was alive. It wasn't anything so poetically prosaic as
picking grapes on a beautiful summer day. It wasn't anything special at all,
just another new school in another new town that his parents had moved them all
to. Then again, it was the exact moment he realized he was gay, and in love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He'd
walked into yet another new classroom in yet another new school, and his eyes
landed on another boy, and for the first time ever Casey realized that air
rushed through his nostrils to his lungs. Before that moment he'd breathed.
Presumably for the prior twelve years of his life he'd done his small part to
keep the balance between oxygen and carbon dioxide stable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
for the first time his breath caught in his throat and he was forced to
actually think about what had always been an involuntary action before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Not
only that, but he became aware of a thundering beat in his ears that had all
the rhythm and twice the speed of his favorite drummer of all time, Neil Peart.
Later he realized that pounding beat was his heart racing, just as the strange
roar in his ears wasn't a crowd at a concert but his blood stinging its way
through his veins to make his skin prickle and his arm hair stand on end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Worst
of all, his pecker just stood right up and poked at the front of his board
shorts like God and everybody wasn't standing there eyeing him with all the
disdain a class full of strangers could muster. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Embarrassed,
he flung himself into the first available seat, and trained his gaze steadily
on the white board at the front of the room. Even the rambling lines of purple
ink weren't enough to vanquish the image of the boy who'd caused his world to
spin on its axis. Over long white blond hair, golden tan skin, gold tipped
thick lashes fringing vibrant green eyes…that image lurked in his thirteen year
old mind with as much intensity as though they stood nose to nose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Meeting
Dylan Salisbury had been the changing point in his life. He'd become alive in
that moment. Forever after he might forget sometimes that he breathed, but
never in Dylan's presence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Thanks for reading! </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;">Check</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> back next week when I am </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">not</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> really sure who will be here, </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">but</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> some Story Orgiasts will be popping by with a bit of </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">something</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> to wet your appetite! </span></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-54064119210479530792013-04-22T05:37:00.001-05:002013-06-02T22:41:33.691-05:00Ebook Trailers<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Hello everybody. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I hope you're having a fabulous Monday...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Somebody told me (Jade - yea, I had to say my name, I mean how you would have known it was me otherwise, right?) it was my turn to find something to post. And I must confess that my mind went totaly blank when I heard it. My turn? You're sure? But...but I didn't think about anything!!! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So I looked at the past posts, trying to find an idea... yes, you see my problem now, don't you? The Story Orgy members were promoting their books... because they are writers... logical, right? But me? I'm not a writer, and I don't have anything to promote. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">*Sighs* </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Then, I found it! I was going to promote them! But I had to find a special way to do it. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">After more time spending to think about it, I decided to make trailers for their latest releases. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So there... Hope you'll like them. I put all the love I have for my SO family in them, and I certainly hope it will show.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Unfortunatly, I can't post the vids here (don't ask me why, I'm stupid in front of this "technology") so I'll post the links. You'll just have to follow them...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://youtu.be/dHJYIYrVHVQ"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Cowboys & Vampires - Hank Edwards</span></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/VY_o-LHlCj0"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">One Buck'n Holiday - JR Boyd</span></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/GpzGajHg1So"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Wicked Bindings - Havan Fellows</span></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/eXdRyqja-b0"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Unforgettable - Lee Brazil</span></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/uv5Ce2dilI0"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Enough For Him - Em Woods</span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Well, that's it. Enjoy your week!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Jade</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-31455562223084023792013-04-15T18:36:00.002-05:002013-04-15T18:36:41.058-05:00Oooh, it's my turn? Okay! How about a contest??Hi everyone, Em here! Sorry this is coming to you so late on Monday, but better late than never, right? And what can I do to make it up to you? How about....give you the goods on my next release and offer a contest??<br />
<br />
Sound good? Great!<br />
<br />
Well, here's the scoop! I have a new release coming out (it's up for pre-order right now at TEB: <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2081" target="_blank">http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2081</a>)...wanna know more? Here you go:<br />
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<br />
<b>'Flowers for Him' by Marie Sexton and Rowan Speedwell</b><br />
<br />
He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.<br />
<br />
Billionaire Chandler Harrison’s third marriage is now history, and he’s left with his ex-wife’s parting barb, "You have no appreciation of beauty." Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn’t even care what the picture is, as long as it’s beautiful.<br />
<br />
Neil Sweeney is an ex-tagger, a free spirit, and a bit of a hippie. He’s never met anybody as uptight as Chandler, but when it comes to warming up Chandler’s cold, stark office, Neil has plans involving more than art.<br />
<br />
Chandler begins to find himself strangely moved by the mural developing on his office wall. He’s especially moved by the artist himself. Chandler has denied his homosexual urges for most of his life, but it isn’t long before Neil begins introducing Chandler to all kinds of new things. As Neil’s masterpiece comes to life, so does Chandler’s appreciation for art, colour, and the best kind of beauty of all—love.<br />
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<b>'Vital To Him' by SL Majors</b><br />
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Hot sex in the back of a limo? Billionaire Brenton Marston is stunned when his street-wise chauffeur welcomes him home in a way he never expected, and Brenton wonders who is really in the driver’s seat.<br />
<br />
No fraternising…<br />
<br />
Billionaire Brenton Marston has rules meant to keep the boundaries clear. He respects his employees and never wants anyone to feel as if they owe him anything.<br />
<br />
Robert Silles, the reformed hoodlum, has desired his boss for years. Robert has fantasised about introducing Mr Marston to the pleasures of man-on-man sex, fucking him and sucking him until he forgets his numerous stresses.<br />
<br />
When his trusted chauffeur suggests a hook-up, Brenton is stunned, but he knows he shouldn’t be. No one knows him better than the man who’s seen him at his best as well as his worst.<br />
<br />
It shouldn’t surprise him that Silles knows him and his innermost secrets. In fact, Silles recognised the truth before Brenton ever did.<br />
<br />
Silles’ suggestive offer turns Brenton on. Damn if he isn’t attracted to this broad, handsome, sexy man, in a way he never wanted anyone else.<br />
<br />
The question is, will Brenton push aside his inhibitions and reservations? Will he allow his chauffeur to give him what he craves? Will he willingly surrender to the orders of his servant?<br />
<br />
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M, rimming, anal sex, spanking with leather belt and hand and sex outdoors<br />
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<b>'Fly to Him' by J.P. Bowie</b><br />
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A young flight attendant gets a billionaire’s attention in a way that could have meant the end of his career, but instead could be the beginning of an unexpected romance.<br />
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When Kevin Tate takes over for a friend as flight attendant on billionaire Logan Maguire’s private jet, he is certain it will be his one and only time aboard when he accidentally dumps an ice-cold drink on his employer’s lap. Instead, an instant attraction flares between the two men and Kevin accepts Logan’s offer to stay with him at his villa in Puerta Vallarta.<br />
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Their fledging romance is abruptly brought to an end when Logan hurries back to the States on a desperate mission to save his company from a hostile takeover. Kevin is left wondering if success and wealth is more important to the billionaire than the chance of love and real happiness.<br />
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<b>'Enough For Him' by Em Woods</b><br />
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When secrets come to light, two men must realise that, despite their fears, the love they have really is enough.<br />
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When software mogul Shannon Murphy is requested to appear at an international convention to accept an innovation award, he’s honoured. But when the invitation arrives and requires the attendance of his fictional partner, he needs a plan. There is only one man he wants, one man he trusts, to help him. He turns to personal assistant and best friend Noah Greene.<br />
<br />
Noah isn’t sure if this is his most secret desire come true, or his worst nightmare. Once the media connects them in a relationship, no secret will be safe, and Noah is positive that Shannon won’t be comfortable in the reflected spotlight of a recovering gambling addict. Unable to turn away his friend, Noah decides to do this one favour for Shannon before sacrificing everything he’s worked so hard to build and walking away.<br />
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<b>'Surrendered To Him' by Sara York</b><br />
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When the storm hits, everything changes. Will shifting priorities lead to a shift in life, or will Storm Bennett abandon his heart's desires?<br />
<br />
Storm rules the Bennett Empire with an iron fist, never taking time to allow emotions into his life, leaving him looking like the bad guy in the media over and over again. When a typhoon hits the island where one of his hotels is located, he sees it as a chance to repair his damaged reputation.<br />
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On the island, nothing is as it should be. Storm meets Keoni, a native, who challenges everything Storm knows about relationships, family and love. Keoni is blown away by Storm but wants the man so badly he can taste it.<br />
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Can he risk his newfound peace, giving a part of himself to Storm, or will he stay detached, allowing love to slip away?<br />
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<br />
<b>'Designs For Him' by Noelle Keaton</b><br />
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Normally all business when it comes to his career, Jon finds the lines between the professional and the personal getting blurred after falling in love with billionaire CEO Warren<br />
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After months of unemployment, Jon Pritchard finds work with Cressen Furniture, the 'American Ikea', in a low-level job. A software program he creates in his free time attracts the interest of Warren Cressen, the interim CEO of Cressen Furniture, who quickly gives Jon a promotion.<br />
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The attraction between the two men is undeniable, and it isn’t long before they act on it, though they agree to be discreet until Warren’s position as CEO is made permanent.<br />
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Their relationship grows serious, but it is tested when evidence is discovered that seems to point to Jon being a corporate spy and Warren starts to wonder if he hasn't been used all along.<br />
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With the highest professional stakes on the line, Jon and Warren have to decide whether the professional success they share in the boardroom is worth sacrificing the passion they share in the bedroom.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
What do you think? <b><span style="color: blue;">Leave a comment between now and Sunday 4/21 about what you do if promoted by a billionaire to be entered to win your own copy of this kickin' anthology! </span></b>Winner will be announced next Monday. :)<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-90264858259955242842013-04-08T05:00:00.000-05:002013-04-08T05:00:12.246-05:00Roughing It<br />
Hi everyone. Hank Edwards here, bringing you some fun and heat to help get you through Monday. I'm currently camped out in front of the TV with the laptop, watching "Hope Springs," the movie with Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones and Steve Carrell. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. It's all about Meryl and Tommy Lee, a couple married for 31 years, who visit an intensive couples therapist to try and recover the intimacy in their marriage.<br />
<br />
The movie got me thinking about how lucky I am to have a partner I have fun with, someone I'm in love with, and who makes me feel like the most important person in the world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8yAubiZ98iTJHnWVqNGjyTbNKvL8lHIgiLri_6RpeZVY0rh7NOyBGB6ms1DSG9cqmuwzOeI6jNiYh_fYV7Hy7EaH69qbusCiMXGaqaUc3macOnokkURSjyxhlQdEvtC06KBjKzWcAB0/s1600/HoledUpCoverSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8yAubiZ98iTJHnWVqNGjyTbNKvL8lHIgiLri_6RpeZVY0rh7NOyBGB6ms1DSG9cqmuwzOeI6jNiYh_fYV7Hy7EaH69qbusCiMXGaqaUc3macOnokkURSjyxhlQdEvtC06KBjKzWcAB0/s320/HoledUpCoverSmall.jpg" title="" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTv4wgDWbifw8hDuGjMbNtB2afGzxTkX7f5JpqASxC6C4WvTeooJ73Tebnix7MBvp2vqJZh49pBttWk9OWEUaQgRd8RxBXuU3oh_BCpd8abJcgKW8WocJ0_DhvudiWrBLfXEaDDMW79c/s1600/HE_Shacked+up_coverlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTv4wgDWbifw8hDuGjMbNtB2afGzxTkX7f5JpqASxC6C4WvTeooJ73Tebnix7MBvp2vqJZh49pBttWk9OWEUaQgRd8RxBXuU3oh_BCpd8abJcgKW8WocJ0_DhvudiWrBLfXEaDDMW79c/s1600/HE_Shacked+up_coverlg.jpg" /></a>And it also made me think about my hard headed, and hard loving, mystery solving couple, FBI agent Aaron Pearce and former station chef / cater cook Mark Beecher. The guys are coming back for a third adventure, something sure to rev your engines and get your heart racing. Sex, suspense, and danger in a tropical locale. Get ready for the third book of the newly named Up to Trouble series, <i><b>Roughed Up,</b></i> available from <b>Loose Id</b> on <b><span style="color: red;">May 7.</span></b> Read some of the first chapter below, and be sure to mark your calendars!<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Roughed Up</h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Up to Trouble 3</h3>
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By Hank Edwards</div>
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Chapter One</div>
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The sand felt good beneath Mark’s head. The cool, fine grains provided a stark contrast to the scratch of Pearce’s stubble that pleasantly scraped Mark’s lips as they kissed. Soft, persistent waves rolled up on the beach several yards away, and somewhere even farther off—back at the hotel bar, most likely—a woman’s loud, drunken laugh floated on the breeze. An hour ago they had watched the sun set from a small table in the hotel bar while eating shrimp and downing drink specials. Finally Pearce had suggested a moonlit walk on the beach, and Mark had happily agreed.<br />
<br />
“You taste like mango,” Pearce said between kisses.<br />
<br />
“Those margaritas you kept pushing on me,” Mark replied.<br />
<br />
“I seem to remember you placing those orders,” Pearce murmured, then pushed his tongue into Mark’s mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. He pressed a wide, warm palm against Mark’s erection, still trapped within his board shorts, and they moaned together.<br />
<br />
Pearce ducked his head to put his lips right next to Mark’s ear and whispered, “Want you.” He followed that up by corkscrewing his tongue into the sensitive canal.<br />
<br />
“Me too,” Mark said around a gasp. “God, I love when you do that.”<br />
<br />
Pearce slipped his hand up the leg of Mark’s shorts to grope his balls and his throbbing, needy cock.<br />
Mark pulled away and smiled in nervous surprise at Pearce before turning to look up and down the beach. “You want to do it here?”<br />
<br />
Pearce looked around the beach as well, then grinned like a mischievous college frat boy when he met Mark’s gaze again. “There’s no one around. Besides, we’re on an island vacation; it’s a rule that we have to have sex on the beach at some point.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, is that a rule?” Mark chuckled. “I guess I missed hearing that when we checked in.”<br />
<br />
“I definitely heard it.” Pearce kissed him. “I think the woman said it two times at least.” Another kiss.<br />
“In different positions.”<br />
<br />
Mark felt a little light-headed, mostly from the mango margaritas he’d drunk at the hotel bar, but also from the persuasion of Pearce’s kisses. Goddamn, but Pearce could kiss. He found a shred of resistance left and pulled back to say, “You know Barbados has strict laws against homosexual acts.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah?” Pearce grumbled. “So did my prom date’s brother, but he blew me behind the school.”<br />
<br />
Mark shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything we’re discussing?”<br />
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“God, you’re so wet,” Pearce whispered, smearing the precum around the head of Mark’s cock with his index finger, his lips just brushing Mark’s. “Let’s flip-flop right here. You fuck me, and then I’ll fuck you.” Another kiss, stronger, hungrier. “I want your cock in my ass. I want to feel your cum drip down my thigh while we walk back to the room.”<br />
<br />
Mark’s cock jumped in Pearce’s fist at the image he planted in his head.<br />
<br />
“You’re killing me,” he said.<br />
<br />
“Come on. It’s our first vacation together.”<br />
<br />
Mark smiled up at him. “You mean your trip to Detroit at the beginning of the year wasn’t a vacation?”<br />
Pearce pulled his hand from Mark’s shorts, grabbed him by the shoulder, and rolled them both over so Mark now lay on top.<br />
<br />
“No,” Pearce said and held Mark’s head between his hands, eyes shifting as he studied Mark’s face. “I think it was fate.”<br />
<br />
Fuck. Pearce really knew how to get to him. When the man said romantic things like that, Mark melted. And Pearce knew it, the bastard.<br />
<br />
“You are such a liar,” Mark said and kissed him hard.<br />
<br />
“Not at all,” Pearce managed before their tongues tangled together.<br />
<br />
Pearce lifted his hips and reached down to slide off his shorts. He hadn’t worn underwear since they’d arrived—neither of them had—and the hot, solid length of his cock pressed against Mark’s hip. Mark reached down to take hold of it, squeezed it, and then lifted his hips so Pearce could slip off his shorts as well.<br />
<br />
The ocean breeze on his bare ass excited Mark, but he was still nervous and broke their kiss to rise up and peer each way along the beach. No one in sight. Did people on Barbados just sit in bars and drink at night? No one walked the beach?<br />
<br />
“And you claimed you’d never had sex in public before.” Pearce stroked Mark’s cock. “You’re hard as rock.”<br />
<br />
“You’re a bad influence.”<br />
<br />
Pearce grinned up at him before unbuttoning Mark’s camp shirt. “Bet you say that to all the FBI agents you fuck.”<br />
<br />
Mark shrugged out of his shirt, then lowered his head to take Pearce’s dick between his lips. His familiar taste—a mix of sweat, soap, and that special spice that was uniquely Aaron Pearce—surged along his tongue. Mark paused, his mouth filled with Pearce’s cock and the ocean breeze trailing over his bare skin. The waves continued their sonorous rolls, and the quiet strains of a reggae band floated from somewhere down the beach.<br />
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Like the preview? Click on over to <a href="http://www.loose-id.com/authors/g-k/hank-edwards.html" target="_blank">my author page at Loose Id</a> on May 7 and grab a copy for yourself. </div>
Hankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07536327748512247820noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-56292677935741067982013-03-25T07:16:00.000-05:002013-03-25T07:16:37.213-05:00Story Orgy Monday - Someone like Brian<br />
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Good morning and Happy Monday to you all. I hope this blog post is finding you warm and well. It is also my hope that everyone enjoys their upcoming Easter weekend. It's approaching fast! </div>
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Below is a story I wrote for this week's Story Orgy post. Someone like Brian was inspired by a bad morning I had in my class Strategic Planning and Implementation class. It wasn't pretty at all. I delved into a story and this is what I came up with. So, sit back with your favorite beverage and enjoy the short story. </div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone
like Brian<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry McCann sat in his office grading papers and
sipping his morning coffee when someone knocked on the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Office hours are from two pm to four pm. Come
back then." Jerry thought his irritable tone would surely deter the
visitor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another knock prompted the music teacher to stand
and make a bee line for his office door. He swung the door with a disgruntled greeting.
"What? Can't you see the hours posted?” Jerry pointed to the sign on his
door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Well, yes. I see your sign Mr. McCann, but I'm
the pianist." The man said with a country accent as he held out his hand.
"Brian Dennison's my name. You invited me to speak to your class and this
is the only time I have to chat with you before I do." Brian's kindness
was undesirable at that time. Not at seven in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I'm still having my first cup of coffee.
You'll have to excuse my petulance. Can I get you a cup? I reckon we can chat
since you're already here." Jerry didn't wait for a response. He walked
over to his coffee pot and poured a cup. "Sugar and cream is here if you
need it." Jerry left the cup on the counter and rounded his desk. He sat,
took a sip, and resumed grading his students' music sheets, waiting for Brian
to make his move. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry, distracted by handsome physique, watched
Brian out of the corner of his eyes, admiring the stocky build and broad
shoulders. Brian's ass filled out his jeans in every respect. Brian stirred
cream and sugar into the coffee, dropped his stirrer in the trash, and sat
across from Jerry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry shoved his paperwork aside and looked across
the desk at the handsome man, wondering how his short, stubby fingers could
play the piano without hitting the wrong keys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I wanted to discuss what your expectations
are," Brian said as he rubbed a finger around the rim of his Styrofoam
cup. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Honestly, I merely needed a timeslot to catch
up on some grading. My hope is that you can keep them occupied with your
knowledge of music and instruments." Jerry shifted his eyes to a painting
on the wall, trying not to stare at his guest. He turned to the window to take
a look at the sunrise and sip his coffee. "How long have you been playing
the piano?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Since I was a kid; about twenty-two years or
so." Brian replied with a questioning undertone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I see. That makes you about thirty years old
then, huh?" Jerry turned to face Brian again, taking a half seat on the
edge of his desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Somewhere around there." Brian chuckled.
"Is there a problem with that?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Age doesn't matter at all. I was merely asking
to entertain my thoughts." Jerry's eyes fixed on Brian's and he thought
he'd fall off the desk right then and there. The pools of blue seemed to pull
Jerry right in. A stirring in his groin distracted him altogether. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Sir, are you alright?" Brian's attempt to
engage again was admirable, but Jerry wanted more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Sir? Please don't call me that. You make me
sound old." Jerry's mood lightened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry spun a pencil on his desk. "You don't
have time for lunch today would you? You said you were busy. However, we could
have more time to talk later. I'm about to–" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I tell you what. I'll meet with you tomorrow
for lunch. You don't have me scheduled for class for two more days. Since your
office hours are from 2 to 4, we'll meet up around that time. I'll make
arrangements with my boss." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I thought you were your own boss. You're a
pianist." Jerry cocked his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"I'm also a housekeeper." Brian's gaze
dropped to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Oh. What I hear you saying is you're a
houseboy with a passion for playing the piano." Jerry slid from the desk
and back into his chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"That pretty much sums it up. Okay, it's a
date." Brian stood, shook Jerry's hand, and turned to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Wait." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Brian stopped, turned on his heels, and raised a
brow. "Yes?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Oh. Never mind. It's not important. I'll see
you tomorrow." Jerry gestured his goodbye with a hand in the air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry waited for the door to shut and tapped the
desk with his pencil. <i>Sheesh. He's got
one hell of a country accent. I love it! </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry went through the rest of the day struggling to
get the thought of Brian out of his head. He couldn't wait to get home so he
didn't ha<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2156117366274103507" name="_GoBack"></a>ve to concentrate. Several hours passed and
Jerry didn't linger. He didn't wait for the students. He beat them out the door
for once. He kept going despite the bantering behind him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally!
</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry
unlocked the door to his condo, opening and closing it as fast as he could. He
dropped his briefcase at the door and ran up the stairs, unbuttoning and
tugging at his clothes all the way to his bedroom. Shucking them immediately,
Jerry stood in front of his mirror with his cock in hand. He rubbed and
massaged it to full erection. Jerry stroked his cock slow. No lube. No spit.
Nothing. Only the thought of his stout new acquaintance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry tightened his grip, but kept his pace. He
eased up on the hold each stroke he made, lightly touching around the head of
his cock. Jerry's cocked ached for release. His ball sac contracted and his
cock throbbed. Jerry jerked his head back, rocked onto his toes, and closed his
eyes, taking pleasure in the much needed release.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry raised his head upright and opened his eyes.
He reveled at the smile on his face. <i>It's
been too long since I've felt this way</i>. He swooped down and grabbed a dirty
sock and wiped the cum that ran down the mirror. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry was already making plans on how he wanted the
lunch date to go the following day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">****</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What'd ya think? I know. It's short, but it works *grins*. Enjoy your week. I hope your week is as short as my story LOL, Lots o' love from Texas! </span></div>
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JR Boydhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108844428364907043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156117366274103507.post-34756324501113338682013-03-18T12:31:00.001-05:002013-03-18T12:31:30.154-05:00Making Up- A Flash Fiction Piece <br />
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<o:p> Good afternoon and my apologies for being late everyone! Monday began for me with a tragic coffee pot incident this morning. I had to brew the coffee three times. You can bet that slowed me down quite a bit! </o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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I'm still reeling from the caffeine deficiency. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Since I'm behind, I'm flying in and out this morning, and I thought I'd share just a bit of a future project with you. This one is 200 words. It's a bit of flash fiction that will end up at about 5K one of these days when I can squeeze in the time to finish the story. Meanwhile, I enjoy flashing as a way of stirring up the creative juices. Have you tried it? </div>
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And since it's Monday and we could all use a little pick-me up...or at least I can, here's some sugar for your coffee...</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYka1T1Eev3gIRu7LVbOABEar1G395UNtRNoE78GpntSr8595RiHjk1cmG5OwUUzHpt7AgV-M7iZoTo_xV_Ivyxb_rk4uKaHnaFwr1NqJ4FFozIJqWkHgRoL2PdBKaxCb1qE-lb4bWd4P/s1600/A+Rake+in+London+crop+1+Fotolia_39603160_M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYka1T1Eev3gIRu7LVbOABEar1G395UNtRNoE78GpntSr8595RiHjk1cmG5OwUUzHpt7AgV-M7iZoTo_xV_Ivyxb_rk4uKaHnaFwr1NqJ4FFozIJqWkHgRoL2PdBKaxCb1qE-lb4bWd4P/s320/A+Rake+in+London+crop+1+Fotolia_39603160_M.jpg" width="188" /></a><o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p>He thinks we should have stayed in bed, too. </o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
Making
Up<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"You think
you can do no wrong, don't you?" <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Chris's scorn
raked over old wounds. Good let him be angry. Stan was sick of pretending to be friends with
his ex. He'd engineered this meeting to resolve that issue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"It's not my
opinion of myself that bothers you." Stan scowled at his critic. "It's
my opinion of you that riles you. Anyone would think it was your money we're
talking about. You're a tightfisted miser, Chris." Money had been at the
root of all their fights back then, too. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"Your boundless
ego ceased to be amusing three bounced checks and an over the limit gold card
ago." Chris scribbled something on a note pad. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"I don't know
what you're talking about." Stan shifted forward to hide the way his dick
responded to Chris's display of emotion. Too many memories of angry make up sex
that melted into tender apologies battered at him. "Don't I pay you to
take care of all that shit?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"One of the
bounced checks was written to me."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"So you don't
work for me now?" Stan darted from his chair and dropped into Chris's lap.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"No." <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"Then there's
no reason I can't do this, is there?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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