Showing posts with label aj llewellyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aj llewellyn. Show all posts

Sunday, March 22, 2026

πŸ€πŸ’š☘️Sunday's Short Stack☘️πŸ’šπŸ€: Just Dance by AJ Llewellyn




Summary:
Irish dancer Tiernan O’Rourke is given the chance of a lifetime with a holiday dance show. Or has Santa just delivered yet another nasty holiday surprise?

Devastated when COVID cancels his touring show of an Irish musical, Tiernan O’Rourke is given a chance shot at a special Christmas show. His ex-lover, Asher Bryson, is the one staging the show and tells him it will showcase his shillelagh, but not the kind Tiernan assumes. This opportunity seems to be the answer to his prayers, or is it?

Asher Bryson had big holiday plans until the pandemic squashed them. He lands a gig to stage a late-night, outdoor Christmas dance show for charity. Desperation forces him to reach out to the man he loved and left, Tiernan O’Rourke. Publicly he makes fun of Tiernan, calling him Lord of the Prance. Privately, his feelings are something else. Can he and Tiernan look past everything and just dance?


Original Review March 2025:
I have marked AJ Llewellyn a new-to-me author, truth is I have read the author before but ashamed to admit it has been nearly a decade since my last readings.  So technically not new but enough time has passed that I felt it fair to mark it so.

As for Just Dance, I was looking for stories to fit St. Patrick's Day and although this is a Xmas story it's heavy on many elements Irish.  Unfortunately St. Patrick's Day is not a holiday often explored in stories so I branch out to any kind of Irish connection.  I'm glad I did because this is a fun little ditty that will make you smile.

A little warning, it's been 5 years since Covid hit and I think for the most part people are okay with reading about Covid times but I know a few who feel it's still too fresh or they had close personal experience with the effects and are not ready to explore the time in fiction, which is certainly understandable.  Just Dance is set around Covid or at the very least the effects from lockdown and other facets of the pandemic so I just wanted to put that out there for those not ready yet.

As for Tiernan, or "Terry" as he shortens it for many baristas, is a man who had his big break yanked out from under him due to Covid but he keeps going, he doesn't let that weigh him down.  Asher is . . . well at first appearance I did not like him to say it ladylike, being completely honest he had his points that didn't quite endear him to me throughout much of the story but I could see he was growing and he was trying and sometimes people just have their quirks that don't quite appeal to everyone, doesn't make them a bad person just not a favorite.  But he might worm his way into my good graces but if that's true or not would be a spoiler too many I won't doπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰.

Having stated the above about Asher did not lessen my enjoyment of this short.  Perhaps the smiles it gave me did not evolve into full-on belly laughs but they don't have to, all I need and want is a story that lightens my mood and brightens my reading time and Just Dance did just that.

RATING:





“It’s a bit bland.” Tiernan O’Rourke pushed the artfully piled lump of meat around the plate with his fork. This had been the most unusual experience of his life, taste-testing stacks of meat with varying degrees of flavor. This could really use some salt and pepper. It was his sixth sampling so far today. He hoped it would be the last.

He glanced out of the window, but the view of the red brick wall from the building next door hadn’t changed. From somewhere outside, jackhammers pierced the silence.

He was starting to feel claustrophobic. As he focused his gaze once again on the food in front of him, he couldn’t help thinking of the song, Somewhere That’s Green from The Little Shop of Horrors.

Tiernan glanced at the three chefs awaiting his response. How did they work all day without a glimpse of the sky or something a little bit green? Maybe New Yorkers got used to it. He longed for his old view... His old life.

Ugh.

Quit stalling. Man up. He mentally patted his belly. He already had a bad stomachache from the food samples he’d tested so far. I don’t think I can face this. He took a deep, cleansing breath. I have to do it. Another bite. “Okay. I like the pop of carrots and peas.” He let the food tumble around his tongue, aware of the sharp scrutiny of the kitchen staff. “And the sweet potato is a nice surprise.” He swallowed, hoping he could keep a pleasant expression on his face.

“What else?” Matthew Croft, the lead chef, stared at him.

Tiernan blinked. What else? “There’s um, apple in it, I think. Ah. I like it.”

A long but significant pause.

The taste tester sitting beside Tiernan shifted in her seat. Harsha Zhu was bright, bubbly, and super annoying with her blue-hued hair and her knowledgeable critiques. Not to mention her insane giggle at inappropriate moments. Tiernan had pegged her as a sociopath, despite the chefs’ apparent awe of her.

With a disdainful sneer in his direction, Harsha said, “The textures are there, and I think it’s extraordinary how you’ve managed to blend blueberries and chicken this way. The fruit and vegetables have been cooked to perfection, yet each retains its flavor.”

Tiernan stared at her. Wow. She’s good. She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. I have to memorize that authoritative way she describes a lump of meat, in case I have to do this again.

“But do you think a dog would like it?” Matthew flicked glances at them, an icy tinge in his voice.

Tiernan forced a smile on his face even as he experienced a moment of pure panic. Why are you asking me that? How the heck would I know? Harsha seemed to sag on her stool.

When she didn’t respond, Tiernan jumped in. “If I were a dog, I would love it.”

“It’s my favorite, too,” Harsha piped up.

Tiernan glanced at her. The kitchen staff had all been in wonderment of the small but fierce Asian woman they told him in reverent whispers was an Instagram influencer. Did dogs rely on influencers? As far as Tiernan could tell, dogs were swayed by a bowl of edible food. And edible was in the eye of the beholder. He’d never heard of a single dog that checked with Internet strangers to tell them something was good to eat. He thought with a pang of his childhood dog, Sparky, who ate everything from socks to rolls of quarters.

“One more sample,” Matthew said.

Even Harsha couldn’t hide her dismay.

“Oh,” she said as though the wind had sunk her sails. Then she giggled once more.

“This is the last one, honest. You guys are doing great.” Matthew signaled, and a young female sous chef—who looked stressed—rushed forward and exchanged dishes.

Tiernan stared at the dark mound of mush in front of him. Dog food? Huh. That was human-grade food we’ve been testing. Needed seasoning, but still... I’m going to get a dog again one day. If Fanta lets me bring one home. The thought of his orange tabby cat waiting for him curled up on their shared bed made him dip his fork into the final plate of meat set before him.

He took a healthy bite. This one had a bit of a zing to it. Sort of slimy. Overcooked. Could he say that? Would he offend the chefs? No. He wouldn’t accuse them of overcooking food. The sample had gravy, which was an improvement on the lackluster offerings so far. He glanced over at Harsha, who was scraping at her mountain of food. She took a bite.

“It’s so good I want to take it home and finish it,” Tiernan lied, earning a round of applause from the chefs.

Harsha spat her mouthful into the small dish beside her. Tiernan realized only then she’d been spitting out her food the whole time.

“Me too.” She smiled, revealing a mouth with gold teeth.

Grillz. Holy moly. Were they still in fashion?

“You spat it out,” Tiernan couldn’t resist pointing out.

She patted her mouth with one of the starched napkins the staff had provided. “Of course, I did. You know that last sample was actual dog food, right?” She smacked her lips together. “Alpo, I think.”

The chefs roared with laughter and applauded her.

“You’re always amazing, Harsha.” Matthew beamed at her, glancing over at Tiernan. “You okay, guy? You did eat a big chunk of it.”

“Fine, just fine.” Tiernan waved off the chef’s words but really wanted to scream and barf. I just ate dog food. And I said I loved it!

“That’s it, guys. You did great. We’ll be sending out your checks today. And if we need you again, we’ll be in touch.” Matthew slid his face mask up and over his nose and mouth and pointed toward the elevator.



AJ Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled.

A.J's passion for the islands led to writing a play about the overthrow of Queen Lili'uokalani's kingdom.

A.J. never lacks inspiration for writing erotic romances but has many other passions: collecting books on Hawaiiana, surfing and spending time with family, friends and animal companions.

A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.



FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE
KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  AUDIBLE
GOOGLE PLAY  /  INSTAGRAM  /  B&N
BOOKBUB  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: ajllewellyn@gmail.com



Friday, January 16, 2026

πŸΎπŸ“ŽπŸ“šNew-To-Me Authors 2025πŸ“šπŸ“ŽπŸΎ



This was a new addition twoyears ago to my end of year "Best Of" lists. I am not ranking, favoring, or besting any of these authors as they are equally entertaining. I don't get to read new authors as much as I would like and there were only 4 new-to-me authors in 2025.  The authors have all earned their spot on my Authors-To-Watch list and I look forward to checking out their backlists as well as all future stories.  Hope you find a new-to-me author in this post as well.

πŸ‘€I've included links to the original review postings below and I try to keep the purchasing links as current as possible but they've been known to change for dozens of reasons, in case any of those links no longer work be sure to check out the author's social media links for updated buying info.πŸ‘€









Monday, September 12, 2016

Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Sins of Summer


Summary:
The seven deadly sins: lust, wrath, greed, gluttony, envy, pride and sloth.

The Sins of Summer weaves a general thread of deception loosely tying these tales together. Envy, lust and wrath are explored in these scorching m/m tales involving action, burning hot sex and sinful adventures that will have you cranking up the Air Conditioning.

Stories Included:
Mayze by D.J.Manly
D.J. Manly tackles the sin of lust in his paranormal tale

Jas’s joy of being reunited with his sister is short lived when one night she is murdered by a madman, a madman his foster brother claims is a vampire. Sent out on a mission to find a monster, Jas meets Mayze, and he’s like no one he’s ever met before. Is he the monster who killed his sister, or could he just be the answer to his prayers?

Burnt Island by A.J.Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn tackles the sin of jealousy in Burnt Island

Manhattan-based private investigator, Leo Gannet, accepts an assignment to tail his father’s boyfriend, theater director Thane Covey on a clandestine trip to a tiny Greek island. With only three hundred inhabitants and four miles to cover, Leo worries about pulling off his mission. He soon discovers he's got bigger problems: Thane Covey is the sexiest man he's ever seen. And he's not alone. Leo soon becomes insanely jealous, then very worried. To top it off, Thane also seems to have somebody else's attention...a hitman's.

Summer Escape by Serena Yates
In Summer Escape, Serena Yates tackles the sin of wrath.

New York banker Carlton Jaymes Pearce receives an ultimatum from his doctor: accept a lifestyle change and early retirement to reduce his astronomical stress levels or be prepared to have a heart attack - soon. Being only thirty-eight, Carlton isn't ready to die and decides to finally learn how to sail. Neither he nor his private sailing instructor, Troy Nicholls, are ready for the almost instant attraction that leads to a hot and heavy summer fling. But all is not well because someone from Carlton's past appears on the scene to exact revenge for a perceived injustice. Carlton and Troy are kidnapped and left on a deserted island. Will the mysterious man's wrath cost them their lives?


Mayze by D.J.Manly
From the final pirouette to the grand jetΓ©, Magda’s attention never wavered from the scene in front of her eyes. It had been like watching a child surrounded by treats in a candy store. It was all so good that in the end you never really end up choosing.

Jas placed an arm around his older sister as they exited the theatre and walked out onto Sixty-Third Street. Columbus Avenue was bustling tonight, the weather glorious—warm with a subtle, soft breeze that prevented the heat from being oppressive.

The home of the New York City Ballet, the David H. Koch Theater, was one of three theatres located on the over-sixteen-acre Lincoln Center Campus in the city’s west end. Magda had always loved ballet but had never before had the chance to actually see one.

In the early nineties, when the war over independence had erupted in Bosnia, Jas was only twelve years old. Magda had been sixteen. Given that Bosnia’s male children seemed to be more of a target than females, his parents feared for Jas’ safety. At the age of thirteen, his parents sent him to New York City to live with his father’s cousin, Adel, and her family.

It had been a tough decision for the family. The decision had not been made in haste, and his parents had changed their minds several times about sending him to New York. Jas remembered how angry he’d been at being sent away. He hadn’t wanted to leave his family. The night before he’d actually left, his sister had sat up all night, quietly talking to him. She’d convinced him that it was the right thing to do and that soon they’d all be together again.

A few years later, eight thousand boys had been murdered by Serbs, helping to turn the tide of the war...and convincing his parents they had made the right choice in sending him to America.

Adel had always felt badly that she couldn’t take in the entire family, but Jas’ father had truly felt he had a duty to stay and help defend his homeland and wouldn’t have left anyway.

His father had died in the conflict just before it was all over, and his sister—who wrote to him constantly, longing to come to America—had stayed behind to look after their mother, whose health declined rapidly after their father was killed.

Finally, two years ago, his sister had arrived in America. After their mother had passed away, they’d talked about it while Jas was home for the service. Magda was so excited. She’d been learning English for a few years in preparation and they always spoke English on the phone and exchanged emails in that language.

But when they saw each other at the airport five years later, Magda spoke to him in Bosnian, “Jasminko, zdravo, ja sam sretan sada.”

“English, English, sister. You are in America now...and I am happy too.” They’d held on to each other for a long time—all of the memories and loss filling them both for a few minutes—before they broke apart.

Jas had known things would be different now. Finally, Magda could leave the past behind her, too—as he’d already done.

It had taken a while for his sister to be able to address him as Jas. He didn’t use Jasminko anymore. It was too long a name and people had problems pronouncing it. Not to mention, they always wanted to know what kind of a name that was. He’d have to explain where he was from, and that brought up a past that he didn’t like talking about.

“You are so American,” his sister had laughed at him as he’d driven her home from the airport that day.

She was right, of course. He’d been in the US now for almost eighteen years. Many things had changed in his life since he’d left Bosnia. His mother’s cousin had been an Adem. Her father had been the oldest in the family, and he’d always wanted Jas’ father to come with him to America. His father, however, had been very proud of his homeland, always believing he could make it better. Jas couldn’t help thinking how different everything would have been if his parents had taken Magda and came to America before he was born. Maybe his parents would be alive today.

His uncle had worked as a scientist in the American government. His wife had died in childbirth and Adel, his daughter, had married an Irishman called Patrick O’Kelly. They had two children, Harlan and Anne. Harlan, the elder of the two, had become a Catholic priest.

Jas was completely out of touch with his roots, and given the history, he’d never really had the heart to reconnect. Aside from his older sister, his only family was the O’Kellys, and they had been good to him. They treated him like one of their own, and the youngest, Anne, thought of him as a brother. Anne had once told Jas that he was like her only brother because Harlan was so difficult to get close to. Jas’ relationship with Anne hadn’t made him miss Magda any less, but it had helped to ease the pain of their separation. Today, Anne was a cop—as a kid, she’d always been a bit of a daredevil. They’d spent a lot of time together doing nonsense.

Patrick and his twin brother, John, were partners in an industrial construction supply business. Patrick had always been a little disappointed that Harlan, the only boy, didn’t share his interest in the business and he hadn’t been that thrilled to see him enter the priesthood. Pat was Catholic in name only, didn’t trust priests and was pretty vocal about it. It didn’t help the rocky relationship he had with his son.

Jas, on the other hand, was fascinated with building. He had been as a boy, and by the time he was sixteen, he’d been working summers for the O’Kelly brothers. They’d taught him everything, and he’d paid his way through trade school and university that way. After Jas graduated, he went to work full-time in the business. He’d been promised a partnership and a chance to buy them out when they retired, which was definitely in his plans.

He loved his life. He’d bought a small house on the east side, twenty minutes from the office, and had saved enough money to set his sister up in her own place when she was ready and help her find a good job. He didn’t want her doing menial labour like some immigrant women ended up doing—cleaning rich people’s houses or offices for shit wages.

Burnt Island by A.J.Llewellyn
It began with the dog walking around in circles and ended with me on a plane to Athens, Greece, tracking my father’s boyfriend. Yeah, you heard it right. Just when my dog, Jezebel, needed me most, I couldn’t come up with the funds to treat her sudden onset of vestibular disease. A call to my dad for a loan got me an unwanted job, but it also meant the money I desperately needed to take care of my best friend in the whole wide world.</span>

My vet is an awesome guy. He’s not the type to chisel his human clients for expensive tests, but when my Australian shepherd, Jez, started tilting her head, scratching her ear, walking in circles and falling down, Dr Lang warned me it might be very serious. He couldn’t tell if her vestibular problem was because of an ear infection or a brain tumour. This meant a slew of tests. In my work as a private eye, I have good months and bad months. Lately they’ve all been bloody awful. In this tough economy, people have been taking matters into their own hands, following cheating spouses themselves...or just turning a blind eye to their shenanigans.

No matter how many times I tell a love-sick spouse that you get what you pay for, a few have ignored me, with catastrophic results. As much as any guy wants to know if his wife is diddling another guy, nobody really wants to see it for themselves. And then there is the matter of getting caught. There isn’t a person alive who looks attractive acting like a stalker...

But enough about that. I was frightened enough about Jez having a disease I couldn’t spell, let alone treat. New York was bracing itself for some sweltering, triple-digit summer heat, and my A/C was on the fritz. I’d have to get that repaired as well if I was going to keep Jezebel comfy.

When I called him for a loan, my father, Leo Gannet Sr, was unusually willing to pay for the initial battery of tests. He gave Dr Lang’s office manager his credit card details right over the phone. I should have been suspicious, but I wasn’t until he said, “Leo, we need to meet and discuss terms.”

Terms? What terms?

As I grabbed a taxi to meet him for coffee on Manhattan’s lower east side, I watched the day’s heat shimmer in waves from the scorching bitumen. I bounced along on the uncomfortable, macramΓ©-covered back seat, the strong smell of curry and rice permeating the cab. I held on for dear life, worried the back door of the decrepit vehicle would fling open, tossing me to the kerb. As we slammed to a halt outside Bluestockings CafΓ©, I wondered if my father’s terms meant a repayment plan I’d have to make—with interest.

Dad waited for me inside Bluestockings, an activist cafΓ©&nbsp;and bookstore he would never have frequented when he was straight. A contract-law attorney, he’d always been the epitome of Brooks Brothers couture. Now he was gay, he dressed like a frickin’ rich, hippie weirdo with tie-dyed T-shirts and hemp pants and gave free legal advice to old ladies selling organic produce. I noticed prayer beads lurking against his hairy chest and gem stone bracelets clinking on his wrists. I detected a strong whiff of patchouli incense when he threw his arms around me. Though I wanted my father to be happy, I wished he could have done it whilst maintaining a closer relationship with soap. He still looked distinguished...sort of. He needed a shave and a trim. He looked bleary-eyed and exhausted.

Holy cow. Had he been crying?

Dad hugged me like it had been weeks since we’d seen each other. Upon reflection, it had, so I let him hug me. He oohed and aahed over me.

“Leo, great haircut, son. Have you been working out?”

We both had the same chocolate brown hair that did whatever the hell it wanted, only his had started turning grey, probably from the stress of living a double life. Now he was out, he’d quit the weekly facials and manicures.

“I gotta be me,” he kept saying. I just didn’t know who the hell that was anymore.

He cupped my face in his hands and looked at me with eyes the same blue as my own.

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad.” I had to lie. It was required. “So do you.”

That pleased him. His expression was serene when he finally released me. I sat down at a small table wedged between a huge basket bearing a fresh harvest of dwarf cameo apples on one side and another basket filled with free yarn and needles for the shop’s dyke knitting circle on the other. I hadn’t even ordered myself a cup of coffee when he hit me with the news.

“You’re leaving for Greece tonight.”

“What are you talking about? I can’t go to Greece, Dad. Jez needs me.”

“She won’t be alone. You forget, I love that dog, too,” he told me. “She’s fourteen, son. Things start to go wrong then.”

Thanks a lot for reminding me, Dad...

“My boyfriend’s cheating on me.” He fiddled with a ball of bright blue yarn, winding the thread around his fingers. “I hacked his computer and I found his Kayak.com account. That fool’s been online, hooking up a romantic vacation with another guy whilst I’m doing my best to win his heart.”

He looked so forlorn I felt really bad for him.

“You have no idea,” Dad said. “My God...the dinners, the concerts...” his voice trailed away. He dumped the yarn back into the communal basket. “I brought all the information you’ll need.”

He had his iPad with him. The shocks didn’t stop coming. My father, who still wore a watch and had the world’s oldest cell phone on record, suddenly had an iPad and a net detective account. His boyfriend, who he said was a hot theatre director named Thane Covey, was my age—thirty-two. That was embarrassing. Visions of cradles and masked bandits danced in my head as my fifty-eight year old father showed me the Kayak account in question.

“He claims all kinds of work things—social things. He’s always got a thing he’s gotta do.” My father threw his hands into the air. “I got this...thing,” he mimicked.

Summer Escape by Serena Yates
“You’re not seriously telling me that I’m in danger of having a heart attack. I’m only thirty-eight years old!” Carlton Jaymes Pearce stared at the physician, willing him to retract his words. All he’d come to the clinic for was his employer’s required annual physical. He hadn’t expected dire predictions about his future. “If this is some sort of joke...”</span>

“No joke.” The white-haired doctor shook his head. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this. It would be highly unethical. And contrary to common belief, age is no protection or guarantee that you’re safe.”

“But...but how?” He took good care of himself. He didn’t smoke, ate mostly sensibly, and went to the gym three or four times a week.

“Your cholesterol is extremely high, as is your blood pressure. Your family history is another risk factor against you.” The doctor looked up from the file, narrowing his eyes. “However, I suspect that the largest contributor is your stress level.”

“Stress.” There’d certainly been enough of that in the last two years. With the way the banking sector was heading, it wasn’t likely to get any less stressful in the future, either. His personal life was a mess, too. The breakup with Michael had been awful, but he wouldn’t accept infidelity no matter how neglected the younger man had claimed he’d felt.

“Exactly.” The doctor tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, since that isn’t going to get any rosier, I suggest you give me a prescription to handle the cholesterol and the blood pressure, and I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He could deal with taking some pills.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” The doctor held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “I agree that medication would reduce some of the physical risk factors, but it wouldn’t reduce your stress levels. I cannot in good conscience put you on medication and leave it at that. What you need is rest and a complete change of lifestyle.”

“Rest? I can’t take a vacation at this point in the fiscal year.” His boss would kill him a long time before any potential heart attack would.

“You don’t understand, Mr Pearce.” The doctor leant forward in his chair. “This isn’t a question of a vacation. I’m going to recommend a leave of absence of at least six months before a re-evaluation to see if you’ve made enough progress to consider a return to part-time work.”

“You...you what?” He could feel his blood pressure rise. He was ready to have that heart attack right now. The man was clearly out to end his career. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to save your life. As far as I can see, it’s either your current job or your life. It’s extremely unlikely that you’ll be able to keep both.” The doctor shrugged and sat back. “I’d go for my life if I were you, but it’s your choice.”

“It’s that serious?” Carlton took a deep breath and sat back when the doctor nodded. Maybe it was time to reconsider. His job as chief financial officer at the large bank he currently worked for had lost its appeal about two years ago. His boss would never approve a leave of absence—there were too many equally qualified people flooding the market right now. He had more than enough money to last him several lifetimes if he continued to invest carefully. So what was stopping him?

“Isn’t there anything you’ve always wanted to do, but never had the time to follow up on? Something you dreamed of when you were a child?” The doctor smiled. “Provided it’s not stressful in its own right, of course. I had a patient in here the other day whose response was sky diving. That was not a choice I was able to support.”

“Sailing.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

“Sailing?” The doctor nodded. “That could work.”

“Really?” He grinned. “I’ve always loved the ocean. We used to spend our summer vacations in Florida, at my grandparents’ beach house. I spent all my time either in the water, swimming, or near the water, reading. But I was never allowed on a boat. It was considered too dangerous.”

“Well, now you can do what you want. If done right, there is no inherent danger or stress in sailing. Learning to sail might be exactly what you’re looking for.” The doctor made a note in his file. “I’ll still want you to return here for another evaluation in six months’ time, just to make sure you’re on the right track.”

“Could you do me a favour, please?” He didn’t want the news to get to his boss via the human resources department. “Could you hold the report back for a day or so? I’d like the chance to talk to my boss and settle this without interference from the rules and regulations people. I’d rather resign than be asked to leave for medical reasons.”

“That will be no problem, Mr Pearce. Anything that makes your life easier is fine with me.” The doctor smiled and closed the file. “But remember, I’m still going to have to send the report. After all, your employer did pay for it.”

“That’s fine.” Carlton felt more relaxed and about ten years younger already. He’d always been good at making decisions quickly. Decisive could have been his middle name. This way, at least he was in control of what was going to happen.

Author Bios:
DJ Manley
D.J. Manly says, "I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not writing, I’m dreaming about writing, doing something wild and adventurous, or trying to make the world a better and more open-minded place to live in. I adore beautiful men, and I know I’m not alone in this! Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms, is the icing on the cake of life!"

AJ Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled.

A.J. never lacks inspiration for male/male erotic romances and on the rare occasions this happens, pursues other passions such as collecting books on Hawaiiana, surfing and spending time with friends and animal companions.

A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

Serena Yates
I’m a night owl and start writing when everyone else in my time zone is asleep. I’ve loved reading all my life and spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a book. Although I always wanted to be a writer, financial independence came first. Twenty-some years and a successful business career later I took some online writing classes and never looked back.

Living and working in seven countries has taught me that there is more than one way to get things done. It has instilled tremendous respect for the many different cultures, beliefs, attitudes and preferences that exist on our planet.

I like exploring those differences in my stories, most of which happen to be romances. My characters have a tendency to want to do their own thing, so I often have to rein them back in. The one thing we all agree on is the desire for a happy ending.

I currently live in the United Kingdom, sharing my house with a vast collection of books. I like reading, traveling, spending time with my nieces and listening to classical music. I have a passion for science and learning new languages.


DJ Manly
FACEBOOK  /  WEBSITE  /  ARe
SMASHWORDS  /  KOBO  /  iTUNES
B&N  /  GOOGLE PLAY  /  AMAZON
EMAIL: dj@djmanlyfiction.com

AJ Lleweylln
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Serena Yates
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Monday, March 28, 2016

Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Sins of Spring


Summary:
The seven deadly sins: lust, wrath, greed, gluttony, envy, pride and sloth.

The Sins of Spring weaves a general thread of expectation loosely tying these tales together. Greed, Pride and Envy are exposed in these hot M/M tales involving action, explosive sex and paranormal experiences that will get you hot and wanting more...in no time!

Stories Included:
Takeover by D.J.Manly
DJ Manly looks at the sin of greed in Takeover.

Clive is sent to take over Frost Trucking...Seth intends to protect his grandfather from corporate greed...and desire has plans of its own.

Corporate greed is in abundance in today’s economy, and Seth Frost is about to come face to face with it in the person of Clive Roberts.

Clive Roberts comes to Port Credit as a representative of a large trucking corporation—there to take over Frost Trucking, a company on the verge of bankruptcy. Seth Frost had taken time off from his job in the city to visit his grandfather in the hospital. He resents the fact that Roberts is there in Port Credit like a circling piranha, watching his ailing grandfather...just biding his time till he’s able to take over a company his grandfather built from scratch.

But there’s more to Roberts than meets the eye. In spite of his reason for being there, Seth feels a little off balance when he looks into his eyes. Forced to work together to get the best deal for Seth’s grandfather, the attraction between the two men grows. Clive may well be there to take over the trucking company, but can Seth stop Clive from also taking over his heart?

The Kaupe by A.J.Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn tackles the sin of pride in The Kaupe.

Dino Perez is a super-hot Hollywood makeup artist who is used to dating the most gorgeous men in town. When he meets the dynamic and sexy—but not very handsome—art dealer Alek Briatore, pride stops him from accepting him as a suitor.

Alek, not one to be easily discouraged, pursues Dino, following him and his three friends on their vacation in Honolulu. Then, while on a hike in a remote, mountainous bamboo forest, Dina is seduced by a wicked-handsome suitor, leaving him feeling faintly slutty. Their scorching sexual encounter is one he can never forget.

He doesn't tell his friends what happened, particularly since Alek has become a well-liked part of their group. Obsessed with his mountain man, Dino sneaks back to the forest, hoping for another wild encounter. He gets it...in more ways than one. He discovers his lusty forest friend is a supernatural being —a kaupe—and soon learns that pride makes even the smartest man make extremely foolish choices...

Spring Discovery by Serena Yates
Serena Yates examines the sin of envy in Spring Discovery.

Shawn Adens is out for blood—an ex-tabloid journalist with a new mission to unveil the dark and illegal machinations of powerful bankers and businesspeople. His new career with the Philadelphia Herald depends on finding a scandal! When he discovers that the man who used to be his best friend still lives a life of privilege, envy fuels his determination to expose every sordid detail.

Gerald VanBrunt, CEO of one of his family’s companies, is delighted that Shawn is back in his life. They had lost contact when Shawn’s father risked and destroyed the Aden family fortune. For Gerald, none of that is important and he welcomes Shawn back into his life with open arms—quite literally.But the deception cannot last. Circumstances and a mysterious enemy reveal Shawn’s underhanded plot. What will Gerald do when he discovers their renewed relationship is only a ruse?


Takeover by D.J.Manly
The CEO of Simpson and Associates Inc. stood up in front of the podium and looked out at the members of the business community. Only the elite were present in the huge room at the downtown Hilton Hotel.

The president of the local Chamber of Commerce, as well as managers of several Toronto banking institutions, sat in the front row. They'd all come to applaud Trevor Simpson and Associates for gaining a near monopoly in the transport industry.

Clive Roberts sat at a table next to the VIP crowd. Several terminal managers and their wives sat at the table with him. He was the only one unaccompanied but that was all right. He had no time for romance and all the hassle that came along with it.

Mark had left him a year ago, and he'd done him a favour, really. When he'd lost his job, Clive had been stuck paying the bills for months. As soon as Mark had found another, he had written Clive a cheque for a few hundred dollars and packed his bags. Mark had accused him of being unable to share.

"What do you mean, unable to share?" Clive had protested. "I've been footing the bills for months."

"Yeah, and you've never let me forget it," Mark had countered. "You could never share your life with anyone. One day, you just may discover that there's more to life than money."

Okay, so Clive had to admit he had felt a little let down when Mark had left him. He had loved him in his own way. It wasn't his fault he had a hard time with this sharing business. It was the way he'd grown up. His mother had died when he was six, and his father couldn't seem to hold a job after that. He drank. Clive had done what he could to make sure his little sister and he had something to eat. As a result, he was a hoarder. He hoarded everything from food to money. And it was never enough. There was always this fear that he'd come up short.

He'd worked his way through college doing any job he could find, and, with a degree in computers and business, had landed the job with Simpson and Associates. Even today, with a big salary and an expense account, Clive felt insecure. At Mark's insistence, he'd tried counselling. It had worked for a while then he'd gone back to his old self again.

Luckily, Simpson and Associates had soon discovered that Clive had a talent for more than just solving computer problems. He was good at finding cost-saving solutions. Already, he'd saved the company millions of dollars.

Simpson and Associates had been going through a period of restructuring when he'd been hired on. They'd wanted to improve their efficiency, cut the fat, and increase their market share. Clive had offered them some ideas, and they'd told him to run with them.

Within three years, Clive had increased efficiency and made the company more competitive. Mass firings, undercutting the competition, and rerouting the trucks had saved the company a fortune. Turning a profit, amassing money, and swallowing up the smaller trucking companies was the bottom line, and Clive instinctively understood how to do that.

When Trevor Simpson began his presentation, a projection screen appeared behind the silver-haired man. Statistical charts and graphs explained the rationalisation and restructuring the company had undergone. The word 'profit' was mentioned often when he talked about undercutting the competition.

Clive noticed that when Simpson said, "We have almost won a total monopoly in the industry," he looked directly at Clive. Clive knew what he meant. Frost Trucking was the 'almost'—Clive's last mountain to climb. Clive had made it his mission to know everything about Frost. And they should have been easy to break, but, for some reason, they kept hanging on. What stumped Clive about Frost Trucking was that it was no more than a little Mom and Pop outfit with some sentimental hogwash philosophy about putting customers first. Sure, every company spouted stuff like that, but Frost meant it. That philosophy, along with the old man who adhered to it, had put the company in a very vulnerable position.

Frost was the thorn in his side. He was obsessed with it and he vowed that, before this year was through, Frost was going to be his.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Simpson called out suddenly, "let me introduce to you my top efficiency expert, Mr Clive Roberts."

Clive stood up and took a bow. There was applause, which was decidedly less animated coming from the terminal managers. They resented the power he had to point out their shortcomings and to terminate their jobs tomorrow if he decided the company could operate just fine without them.

The Kaupe by A.J.Llewellyn
"Aloha! Aloha!" Dino waved, blinking into the morning's bright glare as he spotted his friends standing in front of a row of tiny, fake grass shacks, with pristine thatched roofs. The shack with the emerald green signs marked National Car Rental, their designated meeting place. They'd all arrived!

He was madly pleased to see everybody had made it. He was already in tropical idyll mode thanks to the lei greeting he'd received at his arrival gate via his package deal through Pleasant Holidays. The fact that one now had to pay an extra twenty—five dollars for the traditional Hawaiian welcome didn't bother him too much.

What did bother him was that he hadn't spotted a single hot guy on the plane and now none of his friends seemed very happy or excited to see him. As he dragged his suitcase on wheels across the sweltering parking lot, nobody moved a muscle or returned his cheery greeting.

"Can you believe we were having drinks in Los Angeles last night and here we are two thousand miles away...together again at lunchtime?" he called out.

Nobody said a word. Dino Perez didn't think a thing like flying safely from one place to another was small potatoes this day and age. To him, it was nothing short of miraculous. This trip is meant to be!

His friends stood in a small semicircle, preoccupied with apparent mini—dramas, judging by their long faces. His heart sank.

"There's a line." Jay pointed. His tone suggested it was the end of the world.

Dino shrugged and dug into his laptop bag for his sunglasses. Man, it was hot. He couldn't remember Oahu ever being this humid. What the hell had happened to the island's gently wafting trade winds? It was spring. It was supposed to be perfect temperatures. Not stifling. He glanced around him. Construction going on everywhere. More and more cars were jammed into the gigantic multi-car rental agency lot at Honolulu Airport than he'd ever seen. More and more office buildings blocking out the wind...and the perennial palm trees.

The classic line from Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi reverberated in his mind...

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot...

Gone were the days when half-clad men and women rowed to visiting ships in small canoes, brandishing sweet—smelling leis and the promise of so much more.

Ah...those must have been fine, glorious times. Nowadays you clicked a link for the privilege of a factory-produced, scentless, cheerless greeting.

Stop it. You're here. Your heart's home.

Dino eyed his three friends as they all glowered in the stifling heat. FlΓ‘via, his forty—year—old friend who dreamt of being a cougar, was going to be his roommate. She wore jeans and a T—shirt, which surprised but delighted him. She always wore suits and heels back home. He hoped she'd left every last strand of pearls she owned with them. She was very cool towards him. Oh, great. This is a spiffing start to our holiday.

Jay and Colin, the fiftyish gay married couple who'd tagged along for the vacation, seemed to be arguing with each other over something stupid.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, wishing for the answer no.

"Colin pocketed the complimentary headphones from the flight. Who does that?" Jay griped. Dino privately agreed it was ludicrous but said nothing as Jay went on and on.

"You're so cheap and besides, they give us another pair on the way home!" Jay shouted at his husband. All of which was true.

Jay and Colin—who rarely left their home to buy groceries let alone fly two thousand miles to Honolulu—seemed more suitably attired for an Arctic expedition than an island getaway. Colin—who was, to be fair, a bit of a fuddy—duddy—wore corduroy pants, a flannel shirt and a thin tie. His only hint of relaxing his academic rules was a pair of brown leather sandals. Dino stared down at them.

"Why are you wearing socks with those?"

Colin gave him an incredulous look. "Because sand might get in my toes. I hate when that happens."

Oh, boy.

Spring Discovery by Serena Yates
"This is it. My life is officially over." Shawn Adens made sure his mouth didn't move and no sound louder than the softest whisper escaped his dry, cracked lips. The need to say the words out loud in the face of total despair was overwhelming. What he said, at least to himself, was the last remaining area of his life that he truly controlled.

"Get on with it, boy, you're holding everyone up." Uncle Bryson stood right behind him, breathing down his neck and far too close for comfort. His bony hand was suddenly on Shawn's shoulder, squeezing painfully. It was a reminder of who was in charge now.

Shawn tightened his grip on the small shovel the priest had handed him until his knuckles turned white. He scooped up the requisite amount of earth, took one last look at the casket containing the man who had ruined his life, and threw the dirt into the grave with enough force to make a hollow sound before the small clumps bounced back several times.

"Thanks for nothing, Dad." He spoke loud enough for his uncle to hear, not caring about the consequences.

"Shawn!" Uncle Bryson added more earth before turning his attention to Shawn. "Your father was a godless man, leading you astray into a sinful life of temporary wealth, but he still deserves your respect. Especially now that he's been punished for his numerous sins."

Shawn took one last look into the grave, shrugged and turned away. He didn't think of his father as godless or sinful, but their wealth sure had been temporary. Money made in the stock market was what had enabled his father to move to Philadelphia, taking Shawn with him right after his mother had vanished when he was only five. Working for a major investment firm had kept them wealthy and Shawn had gone to all the best schools, never looking back.

Now that his father had lost everything and killed himself in a fit of what Shawn assumed was shame, Uncle Bryson had marched back into his life and taken over. Being only sixteen and with living relatives who were happy to take care of him, or so they said, he had little choice in the matter. The authorities were glad he wasn't going to be their responsibility and had sanctioned Uncle Bryson's guardianship. His uncle had made it quite clear that Shawn was coming back to Franklin, Tennessee, to live with him and Aunt Jennifer and learn to atone for his presumed sins committed while in 'the big city'.

"Come on, time to take you home to Franklin." Uncle Bryson motioned toward the battered Ford he called his own. "No need to stick around."

Shawn followed quietly. There would be no wake, since there was no money left for Shawn or anyone else. The banks and debtors had taken what little was left, and his uncle had made it clear he wasn't willing to pay for even the smallest get-together. Shawn snorted as he got into the back of the car. Not that there was anyone here. A few reporters had attended, a couple of men he presumed to be ex-colleagues of his father, and two of their neighbours had shown their faces, but that had been it. For a man who'd been one of the most popular party throwers in the city, that was an extremely poor turnout.

But then, nobody wanted to be associated with failure.

And that was what his father would always be remembered as. Unfortunately, this label, by association, now also applied to Shawn. It was the only thing he'd inherited and the one attribute he could have done without. His previous plans of becoming a novelist were as obsolete and nonexistent as his country club membership. Uncle Bryson owned a farm and had told him he needed help, so that had become Shawn's future as well.

For now, there was nothing he could do.

He settled back into the uncomfortable seat, wiggling to find the spot where the least number of broken springs would poke him in the ass, and closed his eyes. They'd be on the road a while, and the best thing he could do was switch off his mind and rest. He suspected that was pretty much his lot for the next two years. Once he turned eighteen, though, the rules would change.

Nothing could keep him in Franklin then. He'd come back to Philly and build a life of his own, if it took him years to do it. Just because his father had been an idiot didn't mean he was going to suffer for the rest of his life.

No way!

Author Bios:
DJ Manley
D.J. Manly says, "I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not writing, I’m dreaming about writing, doing something wild and adventurous, or trying to make the world a better and more open-minded place to live in. I adore beautiful men, and I know I’m not alone in this! Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms, is the icing on the cake of life!"

AJ Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled.

A.J. never lacks inspiration for male/male erotic romances and on the rare occasions this happens, pursues other passions such as collecting books on Hawaiiana, surfing and spending time with friends and animal companions.

A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

Serena Yates
I’m a night owl and start writing when everyone else in my time zone is asleep. I’ve loved reading all my life and spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a book. Although I always wanted to be a writer, financial independence came first. Twenty-some years and a successful business career later I took some online writing classes and never looked back.

Living and working in seven countries has taught me that there is more than one way to get things done. It has instilled tremendous respect for the many different cultures, beliefs, attitudes and preferences that exist on our planet.

I like exploring those differences in my stories, most of which happen to be romances. My characters have a tendency to want to do their own thing, so I often have to rein them back in. The one thing we all agree on is the desire for a happy ending.

I currently live in the United Kingdom, sharing my house with a vast collection of books. I like reading, traveling, spending time with my nieces and listening to classical music. I have a passion for science and learning new languages.


DJ Manly
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EMAIL: dj@djmanlyfiction.com

AJ Lleweylln
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EMAIL: aj@ajllewellyn.com

Serena Yates
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE
KOBO  /  B&N  /  GOOGLE PLAY
AMAZON  /  DREAMSPINNER  /  ARe
EMAIL: serena@serenayates.com



AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N
KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  GOOGLE PLAY  /  ARe