Friday, November 24, 2017

Friday's Film Adaptation: The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens


Summary:
Charles Dickens’ first novel, The Pickwick Papers was first published in 1836.

Samuel Pickwick is the founder and perpetual president of the Pickwick Club. He and his fellow Pickwickians travel to the far-flung corners of London in search of adventure – luckily for the gentlemen, amusement and hilarity are never in short supply. Along their way, they encounter plenty of characters – from villains who land them in deep trouble to one woman who sues Pickwick to force him into marriage, providing the Pickwickians with plenty of tales to entertain.


CHAPTER I
The Pickwickians.
The first ray of light which illumines the gloom, and converts into a dazzling brilliancy that obscurity in which the earlier history of the public career of the immortal Pickwick would appear to be involved, is derived from the perusal of the following entry in the Transactions of the Pickwick Club, which the editor of these papers feels the highest pleasure in laying before his readers, as a proof of the careful attention, indefatigable assiduity, and nice discrimination, with which his search among the multifarious documents confided to him has been conducted.

"May 12, 1827. Joseph Smiggers, Esq., P.V.P.M.P.C.,* presiding. The following resolutions unanimously agreed to:-

"That this Association has heard read, with feelings of unmingled satisfaction, and unqualified approval, the paper communicated by Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C.,Ý entitled 'Speculations on the Source of the Hampstead Ponds, with some Observations on the Theory of Tittlebats;' and that this Association does hereby return its warmest thanks to the said Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C., for the same.

"That while this Association is deeply sensible of the advantages which must accrue to the cause of science from the production to which they have just adverted,-no less than from the unwearied researches of Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C., in Hornsey, Highgate, Brixton, and Camberwell,-they cannot but entertain a lively sense of the inestimable benefits which must inevitably result from carrying the speculations of that learned man into a wider field, from extending his travels, and consequently enlarging his sphere of observation, tothe advancement of knowledge, and the diffusion of learning.

"That, with the view just mentioned, this Association has taken into its serious consideration a proposal, emanating from the aforesaid Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C., and three other Pickwickians hereinafter named, for forming a new branch of United Pickwickians, under the title of The Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club.

"That the said proposal has received the sanction and approval of this Association.

"That the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club is therefore hereby constituted; and that Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C., Tracy Tupman, Esq., M.P.C., Augustus Snodgrass, Esq., M.P.C., and Nathaniel Winkle, Esq., M.P.C., are hereby nominated and appointed members of the same; and that they be requested to forward, from time to time, authenticated accounts of their journeys and investigations, of their observations of character and manners, and of the whole of their adventures, together with all tales and papers to which local scenery or associations may give rise, to the Pickwick Club, stationed in London.

"That this Association cordially recognises the principle of every member of the Corresponding Society defraying his own travelling expenses; and that it sees no objection whatever to the members of the said society pursuing their inquiries for any length of time they please, upon the same terms.

"That the members of the aforesaid Corresponding Society be, and are, hereby informed, that their proposal to pay the postage of their letters, and the carriage of their parcels, has been deliberated upon by this Association: that this Association considers such proposal worthy of the great minds from which it emanated, and that it hereby signifies its perfect acquiescence therein."

A casual observer, adds the secretary, to whose notes we are indebted for the following account-a casual observer might possibly have remarked nothing extraordinary in the bald head, and circular spectacles, which were intently turned towards his (the secretary's) face, during the reading of the above resolutions: to those who knew that the gigantic brain of Pickwick was working beneath that forehead, and that the beaming eyes of Pickwick were twinkling behind those glasses, the sight was indeed an interesting one. There sat the man who had traced to their source the mighty ponds of Hampstead, and agitated the scientific world with his Theory of Tittlebats, as calm and unmoved as the deep waters of the one on a frosty day, or as a solitary specimen of the other in the inmost recesses of an earthen jar. And how much more interesting did the spectacle become, when, starting into full life and animation, as a simultaneous call for "Pickwick" burst from his followers, that illustrious man slowly mounted into the Windsor chair, on which he had been previously seated, and addressed the club himself had founded. What a study for an artist did that exciting scene present! The eloquent Pickwick, with one hand gracefully concealed behind his coat tails, and the other waving in air, to assist his glowing declamation; his elevated position revealing those tights and gaiters,4 which, had they clothed an ordinary man, might have passed without observation, but which, when Pickwick clothed them-if we may use the expression-inspired voluntary awe and respect; surrounded by the men who had volunteered to share the perils of his travels, and who were destined to participate in the glories of his discoveries. On his right hand sat Mr. Tracy Tupman-the too susceptible Tupman, who to the wisdom and experience of maturer years superadded the enthusiasm and ardour of a boy, in the most interesting and pardonable of human weaknesses-love. Time and feeding had expanded that once romantic form; the black silk waistcoat had become more and more developed; inch by inch had the gold watch-chain beneath it disappeared from within the range of Tupman's vision; and gradually had the capacious chin encroached upon the borders of the white cravat, but the soul of Tupman had known no change-admiration of the fair sex was still its ruling passion. On the left of his great leader sat the poetic Snodgrass, and near him again the sporting Winkle, the former poetically enveloped in a mysterious blue cloak with a canine-skin collar, and the latter communicating additional lustre to a new green shooting coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely-fitted drabs.

Mr. Pickwick's oration upon this occasion, together with the debate thereon, is entered on the Transactions of the Club. Both bear a strong affinity to the discussions of other celebrated bodies; and, as it is always interesting to trace a resemblance between the proceedings of great men, we transfer the entry to these pages.

"Mr. Pickwick observed (says the Secretary) that fame was dear to the heart of every man. Poetic fame was dear to the heart of his friend Snodgrass; the fame of conquest was equally dear to his friend Tupman; and the desire of earning fame in the sports of the field, the air, and the water, was uppermost in the breast of his friend Winkle. He (Mr. Pickwick) would not deny that he was influenced by human passions, and human feelings (cheers)-possibly by human weaknesses-(loud cries of 'No'); but this he would say, that if ever the fire of self-importance broke out in his bosom, the desire to benefit the human race in preference effectually quenched it. The praise of mankind was his Swing; philanthropy was his insurance office. (Vehement cheering.) He had felt some pride-he acknowledged it freely, and let his enemies make the most of it-he had felt some pride when he presented his Tittlebatian Theory to the world; it might be celebrated or it might not. (A cry of 'It is,' and great cheering.) He would take the assertion of that honourable Pickwickian whose voice he had just heard-it was celebrated; but if the fame of that treatise were to extend to the furthest confines of the known world, the pride with which he should reflect on the authorship of that production would be as nothing compared with the pride with which he looked around him, on this, the proudest moment of his existence. (Cheers.) He was a humble individual. (No, no.) Still he could not but feel that they had selected him for a service of great honour, and of some danger. Travelling was in a troubled state, and the minds of coachmen were unsettled. Let them look abroad, and contemplate the scenes which were enacting around them. Stage coaches were upsetting in all directions, horses were bolting, boats were overturning, and boilers were bursting. (Cheers-a voice 'No.') No! (Cheers.) Let that honourable Pickwickian who cried 'No' so loudly come forward and deny it, if he could. (Cheers.) Who was it that cried 'No?' (Enthusiastic cheering.) Was it some vain and disappointed man-he would not say haberdasher-(loud cheers)-who, jealous of the praise which had been-perhaps undeservedly-bestowed on his (Mr. Pickwick's) researches, and smarting under the censure which had been heaped upon his own feeble attempts at rivalry, now took this vile and calumnious mode of--

"Mr. Blotton (of Aldgate) rose to order. Did the honourable Pickwickian allude to him? (Cries of 'Order,' 'Chair,' "'Yes,' 'No,' 'Go on,' 'Leave off,' &c.)

"Mr. Pickwick would not put up to be put down by clamour. He had alluded to the honourable gentleman. (Great excitement.)

"Mr. Blotton would only say then, that he repelled the hon. gent.'s false and scurrilous accusation, with profound contempt. (Great cheering.) The hon. gent. was a humbug. (Immense confusion, and loud cries of 'Chair' and 'Order.')

"Mr. A. Snodgrass rose to order. He threw himself upon the chair. (Hear.) He wished to know whether this disgraceful contest between two members of that club should be allowed to continue. (Hear, hear.)

"The Chairman was quite sure the hon. Pickwickian would withdraw the expression he had just made use of.

"Mr. Blotton, with all possible respect for the chair, was quite sure he would not.

"The Chairman felt it his imperative duty to demand of the honourable gentleman, whether he had used the expression which had just escaped him in a common sense.

"Mr. Blotton had no hesitation in saying that he had not-he had used the word in its Pickwickian sense. (Hear, hear.) He was bound to acknowledge that, personally, he entertained the highest regard and esteem for the honourable gentleman; he had merely considered him a humbug in a Pickwickian point of view. (Hear, hear.)

"Mr. Pickwick felt much gratified by the fair, candid, and full explanation of his honourable friend. He begged it to be at once understood, that his own observations had been merely intended to bear a Pickwickian construction. (Cheers.)"

Here the entry terminates, as we have no doubt the debate did also, after arriving at such a highly satisfactory and intelligible point. We have no official statement of the facts which the reader will find recorded in the next chapter, but they have been carefully collated from letters and other MS. authorities, so unquestionably genuine as to justify their narration in a connected form.

Film
The Pickwick Club sends Mr. Pickwick and a group of friends to travel across England and to report back on the interesting things they find. In the course of their travels, they repeatedly encounter the friendly but disreputable Mr. Jingle, who becomes a continual source of trouble for all who know him. Pickwick himself is the victim of a number of misunderstandings that bring him both embarrassment and problems with the law.

Release Dates: November 14, 1952(UK)
May 5, 1954(USA)
Release Time: 115 minutes

Cast:
James Hayter as Samuel Pickwick
James Donald as Nathaniel Winkle
Nigel Patrick as Alfred Jingle
Joyce Grenfell as Mrs. Leo Hunter
Hermione Gingold as Miss Tompkins
Hermione Baddeley as Mrs. Bardell
Donald Wolfit as Sergeant Buzfuz
Harry Fowler as Sam Weller
Kathleen Harrison as Rachel Wardle
Alexander Gauge as Tracy Tupman
Lionel Murton as Augustus Snodgrass
Diane Hart as Emily Wardle
Joan Heal as Isabella Wardle
William Hartnell as Irate Cabman
Athene Seyler as Miss Witherfield
Walter Fitzgerald as Mr. Wardle
Mary Merrall as Grandma Wardle
Cecil Trouncer as Mr. Justice Stareleigh
Felix Felton as Dr. Slammer
Hattie Jacques as Mrs Nutkins
Sam Costa as Job Trotter
Noel Purcell as Roker
Raymond Lovell as Aide
George Robey as Tony Weller
Max Adrian as Aide
Alan Wheatley as Fogg
D. A. Clarke-Smith as Dodson
Jack MacNaughton as Mr. Nupkins
David Hannaford as Boy
Gerald Campion as Joe, the Fat Boy
June Thorburn as Arabella Allen
Barry MacKay as Mr. Snubbins

Awards:
1953 BAFTA
James Hayter - Best British Actor - Nominated

28th Academy Awards
Beatrice Dawson - Best Costume Design(Black and White) - Nominated

Author Bio:
One of the grand masters of Victorian literature, Charles Dickens was born on February 7, 1812, in Landport, Portsea, England. He died in Kent on June 9, 1870. The second of eight children of a family continually plagued by debt, the young Dickens came to know not only hunger and privation,but also the horror of the infamous debtors' prison and the evils of child labor. A turn of fortune in the shape of a legacy brought release from the nightmare of prison and "slave" factories and afforded Dickens the opportunity of two years' formal schooling at Wellington House Academy. He worked as an attorney's clerk and newspaper reporter until his Sketches by Boz (1836) and The Pickwick Papers (1837) brought him the amazing and instant success that was to be his for the remainder of his life. In later years, the pressure of serial writing, editorial duties, lectures, and social commitments led to his separation from Catherine Hogarth after twenty-three years of marriage. It also hastened his death at the age of fifty-eight, when he was characteristically engaged in a multitude of work.



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Blogger Review: Underhill(Tyack & Frayne #8): A Halloween Story by Harper Fox

Summary:
It’s Halloween, and Lee is wrapping up a TV special at Underhill, a haunted house on Bodmin Moor. There’s only one problem – despite its terrible past, this house doesn’t seem to be haunted at all. Not great for the fans of Spirits of Cornwall, but all Lee wants to do is get home to Gideon and Tamsyn in time for their family party. Gid and Zeke are due to pick him up at any minute, so Lee sends his film crew home to enjoy their own Halloween plans .

The moment he’s alone, everything changes. When Gideon and Zeke arrive, they find the house deserted and dark. Zeke thinks Lee must have left with the film crew, but Gid’s instincts tell him otherwise.

The policeman and the preacher must set aside their differences and pool their gifts to pick up Lee’s trail. Will they be in time to save him from the ghosts and strange forces at work in Underhill House?


After finishing up a television show for Halloween that proved fruitless in the quest to contact the spirits, Lee waits for Gideon to pick him up.  That's when the spirits begin to speak.  When Gideon and Zeke arrive they find no Lee.   It may be Halloween and the otherworldly happenings the couple has faced make a simple spirit seem pretty tame but as far as Lee and Gideon are concerned nothing is ever simple. Where did Lee go and will Gideon be able to reach him before its too late?

When I saw a post on Facebook that there was another new Tyack & Frayne tale I immediately went to Amazon and 1-clicked.  I stumbled upon this series a couple of years ago while researching for my blog series Random Tales of the Paranormal, I instantly fell in love with Lee and Gideon and the supernatural world they live in.  Underhill may be a novella but its packed from beginning to end with everything that made me fall in love with the series.  There's spirits, humor, family, drama, mystery, and of course Lee and Gideon.

I won't go into any details of the tale because I don't do spoilers(as most of you know) but when dealing with paranormal/supernatural genres every little detail can be a spoiler or lead to one.  So I'll just say this: if you are a fan of Harper Fox's Tyack & Frayne series than definitely gobble up Underhill and if you are new to that universe well its a perfect time to check it out.  Paranormals can often be severely dark and scary, well Lee & Gideon have certainly seen their share of darkness but Harper Fox also incorporates humor, friendship, love, and its these elements that make Underhill and the series one of my favorites.

RATING: 






  

Harper Fox
Bestselling British author Harper Fox has established herself as a firm favourite with readers of M/M romance. Over the past four years, she’s delivered eighteen critically acclaimed novels and novellae, including Brothers Of The Wild North Sea (Publisher’s Weekly Best Books of 2013), Stonewall Award-nominated Scrap Metal and the enduringly popular Life After Joe. Harper takes her inspiration from a wide range of British settings – wild countryside, edgy urban and most things in between – and loves to use these backdrops for stories about sexy gay men sharing passion, adventure and happy endings. She also runs her own publishing imprint, FoxTales.

Harper has recently returned from Cornwall to her native Northumberland, and already the bleak moorlands around her home are providing a wealth of new ideas for future work.


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Release Blitz: Secret Santa by Jay Northcote

Title: Secret Santa
Author: Jay Northcote
Genre: M/M Holiday Romance
Release Date: November 24, 2017
Cover Design: Garrett Leigh at Black Jazz Design
Summary:
Keeping secrets is never a good way to start a relationship

Theo hardly has time to date. Between work and caring for his four-year-old son there aren’t many hours left over. He’s lonely though, so he joins a hook-up app and starts chatting to a guy called Luke. Luke seems friendly and they arrange to meet. Theo doesn’t mention that he has a child. It’s early days and he’s worried about putting Luke off before they get to know each other.

Luke is currently working as Santa at the local shopping mall. He figures Theo never has to know. Christmas will be over soon and Luke will move on to a new, less embarrassing job. He’s surprised when Theo and a little boy visit Santa one afternoon. Theo doesn’t recognise Luke, and Luke realises he’s not the only one with a secret.

Despite misgivings on both sides, they start dating, and the chemistry is amazing. But as Christmas approaches their secrets pile up like colourful packages under the tree. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose the best gift of all—each other.



Author Bio:
Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.

One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.

Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He has five books published by Dreamspinner Press, and also self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press. Many of his books are now available as audiobooks.

Jay is transgender and was formerly known as she/her.


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Book Blitz: Right Gift. Wrong Day. by Natalie Decker

Title: Right Gift. Wrong Day.
Author: Natalie Decker
Series: Offsides #1.5
Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 24, 2017
Publisher: Swoon Romance
Summary:
Tyler Richardson is freaking out! Not only did he invite his new girlfriend to meet his entire family, this is also the day they will exchange gifts. But what do you get a girl after dating for only two weeks? Should he listen to his friends and just give her a card, or should he ask for a second opinion?

Layla can’t believe she agreed to have dinner with Tyler and his family. What if they don’t like her? To make matter’s worse, they agreed to exchange Christmas gifts. The boy already has everything. And what if she gets him something that’s nicer than what he gets her? That would be really awkward. Asking him what he would like is completely out of the question. Maybe she should ask his friends for help.

After a rocky start, Tyler and Layla’s relationship is everybody’s relationship goals. But can Tyler and Layla survive the holidays without losing their cool?

RIGHT GIFT WRONG DAY is a hilarious companion novella to RIGHT TEXT WRONG NUMBER from Natalie Decker.


Layla’s name pops up on my phone. I slide my finger across the screen and say, “Hey, thank God you called.”
         
“Is your girlfriend with you?”
         
“What? Lay … Juliet?”
         
“Yeah. She still has my phone and isn’t picking up. I assume that means she’s with you, or she’s avoiding me. I know what she did, so there is no use protecting her. Just put her on the phone.”
         
I sigh. “Juliet, I’d love to help you out, but she’s not with me. Also, I don’t have your number, so I can’t call her.”
         
“When you see her, tell her that when I agreed to hand over my phone, it did not mean I wanted her to go through it.”
         
“I’m not an errand boy. But if she does stop by, I’ll let her know to call. You can’t be pissed off though. Right? I am sure it was an accident.”
         
“I know it most likely was, but it still shouldn’t have happened. The both of you could never get this. You two can get away with crap like this, and it won’t really affect your social life. Me though? I can’t. She just ruined any kind of social existence I had.”

“It’s fine, Juliet. I’ll fix it, but this means you owe me.”
         
I hear her mumble something.
         
“What was that?” I ask.
         
“I don’t owe you anything!”
         
“You do. It’s nothing big, I swear. Just be ready when I need you.”
         
The phone line goes dead. My football wallpaper appears. Dammit.



Author Bio:
Natalie Decker is the author of RIVAL LOVE series. She loves oceans, sunsets, sand between her toes, and carefree days. Her imagination is always going, which some find odd. But she believes in seeing the world in a different light at all times. Her first passion for writing started at age twelve when she had to write a poem for English class. However, seventh grade wasn’t her favorite time and books were her source of comfort. She took all college prep classes in High school, and attended the University of Akron. Although she studied Mathematics she never lost her passion for writing or her comfort in books. She’s a mean cook in the kitchen, loves her family and friends and her awesome dog infinity times infinity. If she’s not writing, reading, traveling, hanging out with her family and friends, then she’s off having an adventure. Because Natalie believes in a saying: Your life is your own journey, so make it amazing!


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Right Gift. Wrong Day #1.5

Series




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Release Day Blitz: Living on the Edge by Taylor V Donovan

Title: Living on the Edge
Author: Taylor V Donovan
Series: Caribbean Tales #1
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: November 24, 2017
Summary:
Damián Laporte Ortíz is an expert at leading a double life. Most people know him as a war veteran and highly decorated cop working for F.U.R.A., a specialized police unit in Puerto Rico. Others know him as a crook. His family sees him as an honorable man and an exemplary single dad. The truth is he’s morally ambiguous and willing to bend rules. His peace of mind, happiness, long-term relationship, and survival depend on keeping his worlds apart. It isn’t until his professional career takes a series of unexpected turns that he’s forced to reconsider his priorities and stance.

Gay rights activist Gael Cisneros Beltrán dedicates his life to representing the marginalized LGBT community in a place he otherwise considers to be paradise. Fighting for their rights consumes his days. Going home to his closeted boyfriend replenishes him at night. Balancing their needs, goals, and responsibilities is a complicated act, but their commitment to each other continues to stand.

No challenge is too great to overcome. Nothing can tear them apart. Not until the past comes knocking and their carefully built parallel lives finally collide. Now they must decide what matters more—the common good or their love.


Leaning closer to Alexis so that he could be heard over the music without having to yell, Gael asked, “Did Frankie mention any particulars about the incident he wants to discuss?” He closed his fan and took his Sidekick phone out of his small black leather satchel bag. He had no messages, so he sent one to Frankie telling him to hurry up, all caps and twenty exclamation points.

“No idea, but my bet is another instance of police brutality, because you know they always feel provoked.” Alexis shook his head, then his delicate features twisted in rage. “It could be anything from gay guys merely existing and breathing the same air as the cops, to getting caught having sex. Sodomy might’ve been decriminalized, but you know some of those homophobic pricks don’t give a fuck.”
Gael clenched his jaw. “No, they don’t.”

Corruption, widespread abuse, and brutality with zero accountability were major problems within the PRPD. Many cases arose out of illegal searches and arrests, but the matter was much worse between the gay community and cops, especially during rallies. Gael ought to know. He’d gotten pepper sprayed, tear-gassed, suppressed from exercising his rights, “moved out of the way” with excessive force, handcuffed, stomped on, and tasered more times than he cared to remember. The mostly young, tall, muscular officers in the Tactical Operations Division, or “la fuerza de choque,” as everyone called the impact unit, were the worst.   

Then there were the cops that actively accosted gay men at cruising spots. They harassed them, roughed them up, humiliated them and even arrested them on prostitution and drug possession charges for heroin and cocaine they’d planted themselves. Civil Liberties Advocates, the legal association Gael did pro bono work for, had its hands full with abuse cases against law enforcement officers whose bigotry was sanctioned by the police department. Literally. A disciplinary rule existed prohibiting Puerto Rico police officers from associating with lesbians and gay men, and way too many cops had taken it as their marching orders to eradicate homosexuality from the island.

For Gael and his colleagues at CLA, that regulation of the PRPD disciplinary code was a challenge. It violated First Amendment rights, prevented queer cops from coming out and forming a local affiliate of the Gay Officers Action League in Puerto Rico, and made gay and lesbian citizens pariahs to their own police force. Over at CLA, they’d been working their asses off to get it struck down. If they won their case, cops would be forced to treat the LGBT community with respect, which would do wonders for their battered morale. Their day in court couldn’t come soon enough. Gael hated the Puerto Rico Police Department as a whole.

Eager to find out if he had another potential case against the PRPD on his hands, he put his phone and fan away, glanced at his watch, then scanned the red lit club. “What in the world is taking Frankie so long?”

“Maybe the guy left, and Frankie went looking for him,” Alexis said into his ear. “I heard he really isn’t into the Homme crowd. He came tonight for Mr. Gay, but he usually hangs out at The Beehive. That’s where Frankie knows him from.”

The Beehive, located across the street from Homme in the Santurce Arts and Culture District—aka the Gayborhood—was one of the drag clubs where Frankie performed four times a month, super popular with the general public. Gael adored the place. It was fun, top notch, and he was close with all the girls. In fact, The Beehive’s Queen B’s had been the first volunteers to work at Puerto Rico Diverso when Gael started it in 2002 to fight for inclusion and equal rights. Their outreach program was one of the more effective tools the center had to get non-queer volunteers and donations. He could never repay them for their efforts.

“Should we go to The Beehive, then?” Gael asked as his gaze swept over the dancing crowd, the people waiting by the bar, and the short hallway leading to the main entrance one more time, then his shoulders stiffened, and a tingling sensation spread across his back.

He twisted his head right and left like a man possessed, frantically searching every dark corner of the club for— There. Next to the passageway to the backroom and the basement, dressed in dark clothes that blended with the shadows, a baseball cap pulled down low over his face.

Next to him, Alexis asked, “You okay?”

“I need a moment,” he rasped. “He is here.”

Alexis grinned. “Hooked him good during that brief conversation yesterday, didn’t you?”

“I hope so.” Gael swallowed hard. “Have Frankie and his friend wait for me when they come back.”

Mouth dry and heart hammering in his chest, he made a beeline for the object of his desire, then almost tripped over his own feet when Damián’s gaze collided with his.

The previous day, when they’d talked for the first time, Damián was guarded—hyperaware of his surroundings. That caution was nowhere to be found. Tonight, he was a gay man in his element. Someone who took up as much space as humanly possible, and knew what he wanted and how to get it. He oozed confidence, and the expression on his face took Gael’s breath away.

That was unadulterated hunger and intent shining in his striking hooded hazel eyes. He looked at Gael as if he was mentally stripping off his clothes…as if he was thinking something dirty…as if he was imagining Gael on his knees, lips wrapped around his cock and cheeks hollow from sucking him off.

Gael readjusted the erection threatening to rip through his slacks.

Damián licked his lips.

Gael had no idea how a such a simple gesture could be so quick and filthy at the same time, but his body ignited at the sight and a shock of desire surged through his veins, making him feel feverish and a bit out of his mind.

He couldn’t wait a second longer to get his hands on that man.

He had never needed sexual gratification so badly in his entire life.

He was two steps away from dropping to his knees and doing what they both so clearly wanted when Damián reached out, hooked his fingers around Gael’s belt loops, and tugged him flush against his muscled body.

“It took you almost seven minutes to realize I was here,” Damián said into his ear in a sultry voice. “You’re off your game tonight.”

“You’ll have to cut me some slack.” Gael placed his hands over Damián’s buff chest and swallowed a whimper. He had hard, slightly rounded, and perfectly contoured pecs under his skin tight long sleeve shirt, complete with fully erect nipples that poked at Gael’s palms. “I didn’t want to socialize, so I blocked everyone to avoid sending mixed signals and keep people from approaching me.”

“Did I interrupt anything important?” Damián backed into the dark passageway, pulling Gael slowly until the music wasn’t as loud and they were secluded from curious eyes. “You seemed to be pretty engrossed in your conversation with your friend.”

“It can wait a few more moments.” Thankful for their similar heights, Gael aligned his body to Damián’s. “What are you doing here?”

“Dance with me.” The inner fire burning in Damián’s eyes made him look primal as he clutched Gael’s hips and started swaying to the music in the way only natural born dancers could. “I love this song.”

Gael followed his lead and rhythm in a daze, his heart beating in tandem with ‘Búscame’s’ bass, the sexiest tune written to date.

Reggaetón music lyrics were usually steamy but Luca Jay, the Puerto Rican singer and composer currently caressing everyone with his voice, was a master at combining emotion and innuendo, and could write sultry songs with his eyes closed. Adding perreo to the mix made everything ten times sexier, as the steps to the dance called for total inhibition and lack of restraint, and had the sole purpose of turning one’s partner on. Gael couldn’t think of a single thing he’d rather be doing at the moment.

In a husky voice, he asked, “Are you a B-Unit fan?”

“I am. Yours, too.” Touching his forehead to Gael’s, he added. “Rabid.”

Gael wasn’t sure what startled him most—the way his heart swelled at Damián’s words, or the realization that his reactions to him were beyond his self-control. “Why mine?”

“I can only imagine what it must be like to fight for the rights of guys that won’t stand with you, but you keep doing it every day.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “And even though I have zero intentions of coming out, I appreciate what you do for us. In my opinion, you’re the rock star of the local gay rights movement.”

Gael nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated seconds later, nuzzling Damián’s smooth cheek and inhaling his woody, sharp, heady scent. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he nibbled at his earlobe and jaw. It was a natural thing to do—almost automatic, as if somehow, he was convinced he had every right to touch this man any way he pleased. “Didn’t you say you don’t do Homme on Saturdays?”

“I don’t, and I can’t stay long.” Damián thrust his hips forward, giving Gael a taste of the massive bulge in his pants for the first time. “But I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Weak in the knees, Gael latched his arm around Damián’s wide shoulders, holding on for dear life as his emotions and thoughts spiraled out of control.

What was it about him that made Gael act like they’d known each other their entire lives? What was this…thing he recognized when he looked into Damián’s eyes that he didn’t dare to name because it made no sense after only two brief encounters? Gael didn’t understand the reason for his monster-sized attraction, and he certainly couldn’t comprehend why he felt like he’d been swept away and was only noticing now.

He was a logical guy. Shit like this never happened to him, so why now? What was different from all the other times he’d hooked up with a guy? What, exactly, was happening?

Was he simply flattered that a hot closeted guy had broken his own rule just so that he could see him tonight? Was it chemistry? Lust? And for the love of all that was good and holy, what the hell was up with the fireworks exploding in his head?
What Was. Happening?

“You look like a deer caught in the headlights.” Damián’s gaze darted from Gael’s eyes, down to his mouth, and back. “Did I read you wrong? Are you not interested in seeing where this might go?”

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Gael cupped Damián’s cheek with his hand and brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. “You really want to get to know each other.”

Damián stopped dancing. “Don’t you?” he whispered, their lips a breath apart, sounding uncertain for the first time.

Gael traced his cheekbones with his fingertips, connecting the faint freckles he couldn’t see in the dark and learning the shape of his nose as he said, “Yes.” No hesitation, no two ways about it. “But I still want you in my bed as soon as possible.”

Taylor V. DonovanAuthor Bio:
Taylor V. Donovan is a compulsive reader and author of m/m romantic suspense. She is optimistically cynical about the world; lover of history, museums and all things 80s. She is crazy about fashion, passionate about civil rights and equality for all and shamelessly indulges in mind-numbing reality television.

When she is not making a living in the busiest city in the world or telling the stories of gorgeous men hot for one another, Taylor can be found raising her two daughters and two terribly misbehaved furry babies in the mountains she calls home.


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