Saturday's Series Spotlight: Out of Uniform by Annabeth Albert Part 2

Wheels Up #4
Summary:

“Each book in this series keeps getting better and better. I stayed up way past my bedtime with this one!” —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

Their love is forbidden, but their hearts aren’t listening to rules and regulations…

Lieutenant Dustin Strauss is a reformed man. No longer a twentysomething hell-raiser, he’s his SEAL team’s new XO—and a man with a secret. Or seven. He’s kept his bisexual identity under wraps for years, along with his kinky side and a fondness for the military-themed semianonymous hookup website Joe4Joe. His latest chat buddy is more than a sexy online distraction—they’re taking their very not-safe-for-work relationship into real time.

Petty Officer Wes Lowe has a smart mouth, a take-charge attitude and an uncanny ability for making things go boom. The life of an enlisted man isn’t always enough to satisfy him, but one wild, no-questions-asked weekend with his online love comes close. When a transfer order comes in, Wes feels ready and centered. He’ll make a good impression on his new SEAL team and keep his growing feelings for Dustin on the down low.

But as they log more time online and some very real emotions surface, Dustin and Wes struggle to pretend they’re just a harmless fling. And when his commander introduces Dustin to his team’s newest member, they’re in for the shock of a lifetime…and a crushing disappointment: their difference in ranks means even a friendship without sexual contact could end their navy careers for good.

With their hearts on the line, Dustin and Wes may not survive their next mission, let alone find a way toward a future together.

Squared Away #5

Summary:

“Whether making my heart melt or my head burst into flames, Annabeth Albert draws the reader in and keeps them captivated.” —Gay Book Reviews

In the wake of tragedy, SEAL Mark Whitley rushed stateside to act as guardian to his sister’s three young children. But a conflicting will could give custody to someone else—someone Mark remembers as a too young, too hot, wild party boy. Even after six years, Mark can’t shake the memory of his close encounter with Isaiah James, or face up to what it says about his own sexuality.

Isaiah’s totally over the crush that made him proposition Mark all those years ago. In fact, he’s done with crushing on the wrong men altogether. For now, he’s throwing himself into proving he’s the best person to care for his cousin’s kids. But there’s no denying there’s something sexy about a big, tough military man with a baby in his arms.

As the legal details get sorted out, their long-buried attraction resurfaces, leading to intimate evenings after the kids are tucked in. A forever future is within reach for all of them, if only Mark can find the courage he needs to trust Isaiah with his secrets—and his heart. 

Wheels Up #4

He’d seen Wes’s chest before on camera, but the camera was fuzzy, missing key details like how Wes’s nipples were the exact color of Dustin’s favorite butterscotch toffee and how his collar bones looked made for biting. And the camera had never captured the force of Wes’s stare, the way he seemed to see past Dustin’s soul to his most secret of desires.

“Think you could get your cock out for me?” Wes’s voice was as seductive as a kiss, and his eyes never left Dustin.

Using his left hand, Dustin got an awkward grip on his cock, drew it out, waited for the next command.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Wes praised. “Pinch a nipple for me, nice and hard, and I might let you touch your cock.”

“Oh fuck.” Dustin absolutely loved when Wes played like his, and being able to look at his intense face while he made such dirty commands was the best head trip ever. Following orders, he used his left hand to pinch his right nipple, hard enough to make himself gasp.

“Twist it. More.” Wes leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.

“Hurts,” Dustin panted. He’d had worse pain, of course, but somehow deliberate pain like this was a far different beast than the ordinary wear and tear he took over the course of training or a mission.

“That’s right. Doing good.” Wes’s blue eyes were almost black now. “You’ve earned a stroke, but slowly.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dustin’s eyes squished shut as his hand connected with his throbbing cock.

“No, look at me,” Wes commanded, and Dustin’s eyes snapped back open.

He stroked himself with a firm grip, but slowly like Wes wanted. He had to squeeze hard on the base because he was that close to the edge. “Oh God.” His voice broke.

“Yeah? Tell me what you want.” Wes was breathing hard, the only sign that he wasn’t immune to Dustin’s show.

“I’m close.” Dustin’s whole body trembled as he repeated the slow stroke upward on his cock.

“No, you’re not.” Wes’s voice was stern, his eyes like granite chunks. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Usually this was where Dustin would start begging to come, admitting to progressively kinkier fantasies, but instead the truth tumbled out. “Touch me. Oh, God, touch me please.”

Squared Away #5

“I take it that’s a yes?”

“It’s always going to be a yes for more kissing.” Isaiah scooted closer. They’d done the massage and goodnight kiss routine a few more times, but he was careful to not press for it, to let it be Mark’s idea.

Mark gave him a fast but still electric kiss. “I was thinking about this when I was helping you outside earlier. It’s crazy how much I like touching and kissing you.”

“I love touching you too.” Isaiah trailed his fingers down Mark’s cheek. “You haven’t had that before?”

“Not really. I’ve had a lot of kisses that felt like getting my earlobe chewed by a cat or trying to kiss a salmon. Not awful but not ‘can’t wait to do it again’ either. Had some kisses I liked, but right as I was getting comfortable, the other person would try to take it to the next level. And that was always a disaster.”

“Even with your friend? The other medic?”

Mark shrugged and looked away. “He got huffy when I didn’t want to get naked after a few kisses. Called me a closet case.”

“I’m sorry.” Isaiah patted his leg, not sure what else to say. “You’re a great guy. You deserve all the good kisses—no fish or earlobe chewing allowed. And you deserve to go at your own pace. Always.”

“I feel guilty. Like I should be doing something more for you…”

“Hey now. I’m getting amazing kisses from a hot-as-fuck guy who also likes to massage me until I’m a pile of limp lettuce. Trust me. I’m not getting a shabby deal here. At all.” If anything, Isaiah felt guilty for how very much he was enjoying all this. “And add in yard work help and cleaning? Man, you’d be a lot of people’s idea of a dream date.”

“Good.” Mark leaned in for another, softer kiss. “Because I really like doing this.”

“Me too.” Isaiah tried to calm the thumping of his heart. Careful, he warned himself even as his long-comatose hope monster hefted itself up and did a dance. He couldn’t afford to go falling for Mark again, yet with each kiss, each tentative touch, he could feel his grip on his resolve weakening.

Saturday's Series Spotlight:  Part 1

Author Bio:

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.

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Wheels Up #4

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Squared Away #5

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📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘: War Horse by Michael Morpurgo

Summary:

Before the Steven Spielberg film, before the National Theatre production, there was the classic children’s novel…

In the deadly chaos of the First World War, one horse witnesses the reality of battle from both sides of the trenches. Bombarded by artillery, with bullets knocking riders from his back, Joey tells a powerful story of the truest friendships surviving in terrible times.

One horse has the seen the best and the worst of humanity. The power of war and the beauty of peace. This is his story.

With a stunning new cover from fine arts photographer, Nine Francois and chapter illustrations from award-winning war artist, George Butler.

War Horse was adapted by Steven Spielberg as a major motion picture with Jeremy Irvine, Emily Watson, and Benedict Cumberbatch. The National Theatre production opened in 2007 and has enjoyed successful runs in the West End and on Broadway.

CHAPTER 1 

MY EARLIEST MEMORIES ARE A CONFUSION OF HILLY fields and dark, damp stables, and rats that scampered along the beams above my head. But I remember well enough the day of the horse sale. The terror of it stayed with me all my life. 

I was not yet six months old, a gangling, leggy colt who had never been farther than a few feet from his mother. We were parted that day in the terrible hubbub of the auction ring and I was never to see her again. She was a fine, working farm horse, getting on in years but with all the strength and stamina of an Irish draft horse quite evident in her fore and hindquarters. She was sold within minutes, and before I could follow her through the gates, she was whisked out of the ring. But somehow I was more difficult to dispose of. Perhaps it was the wild look in my eye as I circled the ring in a desperate search for my mother, or perhaps it was that none of the farmers and gypsies there were looking for a spindly-looking half-Thoroughbred colt. But whatever the reason, they were a long time haggling over how little I was worth before I heard the hammer go down, and I was driven out through the gates and into a pen outside. 

“Not bad for three guineas, is he? Are you, my little firebrand? Not bad at all.” The voice was harsh and thick with drink, and it belonged quite evidently to my owner. I shall not call him my master, for only one man was ever my master. My owner had a rope in his hand and was clambering into the pen followed by three or four of his red-faced friends. Each one carried a rope. They had taken off their hats and jackets and rolled up their sleeves, and they were all laughing as they came toward me. I had as yet been touched by no man and backed away from them until I felt the bars of the pen behind me and could go no farther. They seemed to lunge at me all at once, but they were slow and I managed to slip past them and into the middle of the pen where I turned to face them again. They had stopped laughing now. I screamed for my mother and heard her reply echoing in the far distance. It was toward that cry that I bolted, half charging, half jumping the rails so that I caught my foreleg as I tried to clamber over and was stranded there. I was grabbed roughly by the mane and tail and felt a rope tighten around my neck before I was thrown to the ground and held there with a man sitting, it seemed, on every part of me. I struggled until I was weak, kicking out violently every time I felt them relax, but they were too many and too strong for me. I felt the halter slip over my head and tighten around my neck and face. “So you’re quite a fighter, are you?” said my owner, tightening the rope and smiling through gritted teeth. “I like a fighter. But I’ll break you one way or the other. Quite the little fighting cock you are, but you’ll be eating out of my hand quick as a twick.” 

I was dragged along the roads while tied on a short rope to the tailboard of a farm cart so that every twist and turn wrenched at my neck. By the time we reached the farm road and rumbled over the bridge into the stable yard that was to become my home, I was soaked with sweat, and the halter had rubbed my face raw. My one consolation as I was hauled into the stables that first evening was the knowledge that I was not alone. The old horse that had been pulling the cart all the way back from the market was led into the stable next to mine. As she went in, she stopped to look over my door and nickered gently. I was about to venture away from the back of my stable when my new owner brought his crop down on her side with such a vicious blow that I recoiled once again and huddled into the corner against the wall. “Get in there, you old rat-bag,” he bellowed. “Proper nuisance you are, Zoey, and I don’t want you teaching this young’un any of your old tricks.” But in that short moment I had caught a glimpse of kindness and sympathy from that old mare that cooled my panic and soothed my spirit. 

I was left there with no water and no food while he stumbled off across the cobbles and up into the farmhouse beyond. There was the sound of slamming doors and raised voices before I heard footsteps running back across the yard and excited voices coming closer. Two heads appeared at my door. One was that of a young boy who looked at me for a long time, considering me carefully before his face broke into a beaming smile. “Mother,” he said deliberately. “That will be a wonderful and brave horse. Look how he holds his head.” And then, “Look at him, Mother. He’s wet through to the skin. I’ll have to rub him down.” 

“But your father said to leave him be, Albert,” said the boy’s mother. “Said it’ll do him good to be left alone. He told you not to touch him.” 

“Mother,” said Albert, slipping back the bolts on the stable door. “When Father’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying or what he’s doing. He’s always drunk on market days. You’ve told me often enough not to pay him any account when he’s like that. You feed old Zoey, Mother, while I see to him. Oh, isn’t he grand, Mother? He’s red almost, red bay you’d call him, wouldn’t you say? And that cross down his nose is perfect. Have you ever seen a horse with a white cross like that? Have you ever seen such a thing? I will ride this horse when he’s ready. I will ride him everywhere, and there won’t be a horse to touch him, not in the whole parish, not in the whole country.” 

“You’re barely past thirteen, Albert,” said his mother from the next stable. “He’s too young and you’re too young and, anyway, Father says you’re not to touch him, so don’t come crying to me if he catches you in there.”

“But why did he buy him, Mother?” Albert asked. “It was a calf we needed, wasn’t it? That’s what he went into market for, wasn’t it? A calf to suckle old Celandine?” 

“I know, dear. Your father’s not himself when he’s like that,” his mother said softly. “He says that Farmer Easton was bidding for the horse, and you know what he thinks of that man after that argument over the fencing. I should imagine he bought it just to deny him. Well, that’s what it looks like to me.” 

“Well, I’m glad he did, Mother,” said Albert, walking slowly toward me, pulling off his jacket. “Drunk or not, it’s the best thing he ever did.” 

“Don’t speak like that about your father, Albert. He’s been through a lot. It’s not right,” said his mother. But her words lacked conviction. 

Albert was about the same height as me and talked so gently as he approached that I was immediately calmed and a little intrigued, and so stood where I was against the wall. I jumped at first when he touched me but could see at once that he meant me no harm. He smoothed my back first and then my neck, talking all the while about what a fine time we would have together, how I would grow up to be the smartest horse in the whole wide world, and how we would go out hunting together. After a bit, he began to rub me gently with his coat. He rubbed me until I was dry and then dabbed salt water onto my face where the skin had been rubbed raw. He brought in some sweet hay and a deep bucket of cool water. I do not believe he stopped talking the whole time. As he turned to go out of the stable, I called out to him to thank him and he seemed to understand for he smiled broadly and stroked my nose. “We’ll get along, you and I,” he said kindly. “I will call you Joey, only because it rhymes with Zoey, and then maybe—yes, maybe—because it suits you. I’ll be out again in the morning—and don’t worry, I’ll look after you. I promise you that. Sweet dreams, Joey.”

“You should never talk to horses, Albert,” said his mother from outside. “They don’t understand you. They’re stupid creatures. Obstinate and stupid, that’s what your father says, and he’s known horses all his life.” 

“Father just doesn’t understand them,” said Albert. “I think he’s frightened of them.” 

I went over to the door and watched Albert and his mother walking away into the darkness. I knew then that I had found a friend for life, that there was an instinctive and immediate bond of trust and affection between us. Next to me, old Zoey leaned over her door to try to touch me, but our noses could not quite meet.

When World War I breaks out, young Albert Narracott's beloved horse Joey is sold to the cavalry and shipped to France. Joey serves in both the British and German armies before he winds up alone in the dangerous area between the two sides-"No Man's Land." Albert is too young to enlist, but goes to France to save Joey.

Release Date: December 25, 2011

Running Time: 146 minutes

Director: Steven Spielberg

Cast:

Jeremy Irvine as Albert Narracott

Emily Watson as Rose Narracott

Peter Mullan as Ted Narracott

Niels Arestrup as Grandfather

David Thewlis as Lyons

Tom Hiddleston as Captain James Nicholls

Benedict Cumberbatch as Major Jamie Stewart

Céline Buckens as Emilie

Toby Kebbell as Colin, the British soldier from South Shields

Hinnerk Schönemann as Peter, the German soldier from Düsseldorf

Patrick Kennedy as Lieutenant Charlie Waverly

Leonard Carow as Private Michael Schröder

David Kross as Private Gunther Schröder

Matt Milne as Andrew Easton

Robert Emms as David Lyons

Eddie Marsan as Sergeant Fry

Nicolas Bro as Private Friedrich Henglemann

Rainer Bock as Brandt

Geoff Bell as Sergeant Sam Perkins

Liam Cunningham as Army Doctor

Gerard McSorley as Market Auctioneer

Tony Pitts as Sergeant Martin

Pip Torrens as Major Tompkins

Philippe Nahon as French Auctioneer

Julian Wadham as British Captain in Trench

David Dencik as German Base Camp Officer

Edward Bennett as Cavalry Recruiting Officer

Johnny Harris as Infantry Recruiting Officer

Tam Dean Burn as British Medic in Trench

Maximilian Brückner as German Artillery Officer

Maggie Ollerenshaw as the Narracott's neighbour

Awards:

84th Academy Awards

Best Picture--Steven Spielberg, Kathleen Kennedy---Nominated

Best Art Direction--Rick Carter (production designer), Lee Sandales (set decorator)---Nominated

Best Cinematography--Janusz Kamiński---Nominated

Best Original Score--John Williams---Nominated

Best Sound Editing--Richard Hymns, Gary Rydstrom---Nominated

Best Sound Mixing--Gary Rydstrom, Andy Nelson, Tom Johnson, Stuart Wilson---Nominated

65th BAFTAs

Best Film Music--John Williams---Nominated

Best Cinematography--Janusz Kamiński---Nominated

Best Production Design--Rick Carter, Production Designer, Lee Sandales, Set Decorator---Nominated

Best Sound--Stuart Wilson, Gary Rydstrom, Andy Nelson, Tom Johnson, Richard Hymns--- Nominated

Best Special Visual Effects--Ben Morris, Neil Corbould---Nominated

69th Golden Globe Awards

Best Motion Picture – Drama---Nominated

Best Original Score--John Williams---Nominated

Trailer

Clips

Author Bio:

Michael Morpurgo OBE is one of Britain's best loved writers for children, with sales of over 35 million copies. The author of War Horse, Kensuke’s Kingdom and Private Peaceful, he has written over 150 books, has served as Children’s Laureate, and has won many prizes, including the Smarties Prize, the Writers Guild Award, the Whitbread Award, the Blue Peter Book Award and the Eleanor Farjeon Lifetime Achievement Award. With his wife, Clare, he is the co-founder of Farms for City Children. Michael was knighted in 2018 for services to literature and charity.

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