Showing posts with label myles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label myles. Show all posts

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Release Blitz: The Perfect Whore by Josephine Myles

Title: The Perfect Whore
Author: Josephine Myles
Series: Storm and Lightning #1
Genre: M/M Romance, Science Fiction
Release Date: April 26, 2018
Cover Design: Lou Harper @ Cover Affairs
Summary:
Being the object of everyone’s sexual fantasies ain’t all it’s cracked up to be…

On a mining colony planet a long way from Earth, bandit Jedd Lightning dreams of making enough money to get his ship spaceworthy again. During a robbery at a high-class brothel, he meets gorgeous alien rentboy Storm and is instantly smitten—but the heist goes south and Jedd has to high-tail it out of there with only half the loot.

Enslaved by a fierce Madam, Storm’s shapeshifting talents make him the most sought after whore on Talmak. He literally can’t stop himself becoming his client’s fantasy lover. Sick of enforced transformations, he wants to escape, but he’s closely guarded and has no experience of the unfamiliar city outside the brothel.

Storm is willing—and eager—to do anything to persuade Jedd to break him out of his gilded prison. Lucky for him the arrogant outlaw needs Storm’s help to free his crewmate, held as hostage by a vicious mob boss who wants Jedd to complete the theft he was hired for. Storm keeps blowing away Jedd’s expectations—but with both the law and the mob against them, they could end up with nowhere left to run.


“Stick ’em up, people. This is a raid. I want all your valuables, right now...” The last words trailed away as Jedd took a really good look at the naked, sweaty couple on the bed. His target, the Right Honorable Senator Artaxico Thrublet, was on his knees behind one of the most gorgeous bodies Jedd had ever clapped eyes on. A body on hands and knees. A most decidedly human and male body…

Shit, had he gotten the wrong room? Jedd squinted at the client, trying to work out if it really was the senator. ’He was definitely Talmaki, with his lizard-like body, orange, hairless skin and bulging eyes . But no, he’d studied footage of Artaxico and recognized his large nose and the ridiculous looking rows of diamond studs up both his pointed ears.

“Hold on, just let me finish. Uh!” Artaxico shuddered to a stop, his belly wobbling as he panted obscenely. Jedd winced at the sight. He knew interspecies mating went on—everyone had heard the tales—but intellectual knowledge wasn’t the same thing as having it thrust in your face. Talmaki just weren’t his idea of sexy. Okay, there had been that one time he’d got drunk enough for a fumble in an alleyway, but the alien’s cock had been kind of scary, and things hadn’t got very far. But maybe the gorgeous young whore was used to those luminous, scaly shafts of meat. Maybe he even enjoyed them. Was he enjoying Talmaki cock right now? He was certainly hard enough.

Right now Jedd couldn’t see the expression on the whore’s face as it was buried in the mattress, but maybe that was for the best. There was no way he could be handsome enough to do that incredible body justice. No wonder the senator had decided to try him as a change from the celebrated Divine. The rentboy moaned through his own orgasm, just moments after the senator, and drenched the sheets below him in spunk.

Artaxico withdrew, revealing an intimidating length of glowing scarlet cock, then collapsed back onto the bed. He reached out to pat a perfectly formed buttock. “Run along now, sthweetie. I wouldn’t want you to get caught up in any of this nasty business.” The lad scooted down to the end of the bed facing Jedd, exposing an equally impressive prick which was filling up again in what must be a record-breaking time.

And as for his face... Suns above! Those were lips Jedd would give anything to see stretched around his dick. But no, he had a job to do, and he wasn’t about to get sidetracked by some hyper-sexed rentboy, no matter how astoundingly gorgeous he was.

“The boy stays,” Jedd ordered. Artaxico gave him a puzzled look, but Jedd pressed on. “I want your datapod and passcode, now!”

“Not a chance in hell. That passcode is top level sthecurity,” Artaxico lisped. “I really don’t imagine there’s anything an ignorant monkey like you could do that could force me to sthpeak.”

Okay, just as he’d feared, but Jedd had his back-up plan. “Oh yeah?” Jedd strode over to the bed and grabbed the lithe young man under the arm. There was a brief moment where he was distracted by the sensation of naked skin against his own, but he couldn’t afford to lose any time so he pulled the whore upright, holding the charge gun to his temple. “Your strumpet gets it if you don’t talk. And don’t think this is a bluff. I never bluff.” He pulled the lad tighter to him for emphasis, but this had the unfortunate effect of bringing more of his own body in contact with those taut muscles, and his face even closer to the thatch of chestnut curls. His nose was on a level with the top of the whore’s head, and he pulled in a lungful of the most divine, arousing musk. Feeling a familiar tightening in his pants where he brushed up against those pert buttocks, Jedd cursed his over-active libido. “I’m warning you! The code, now!”

Artaxico just laughed, a mocking bray that wound Jedd up worse than finding a firebug had crawled into his beer. “Utter nonsense! I’ve stheen killers before – by the sthuns, I employ enough of them, and you really don’t have that look in your eyes. You’re just an overgrown wassat, aren’t you?” The senator twitched his nose in a near perfect imitation of one of the pesky rodents.

Jedd fumed. First a monkey, now a wassat. He turned the gun on the senator. “Okay then, if you don’t give me that passcode this instant, you get it. I mean it!”

“Like you’ll ever be able to get it off me if I’m dead. Does that antique piece of crap even have the power to kill? Looks more like something my wife would carry to stun any overconfident admirers.”

Goddammit, how could the man tell? Jedd waved the gun as threateningly as he could. “You willing to take that risk?”

Artaxico laughed again, getting up to his feet. “What risk? There’s security everywhere in this place, you know? I’m just going to stroll out of here and call the guards, and you’re not going to do a thing to stop me.”

Oh, wasn’t he? Jedd aimed at Artaxico’s head and pulled the trigger. “Ha! Not so clever now, are you?”

“Is he going to be all right? That was just a stun, wasn’t it? “ The godlike young man had a voice to match his physique—a rich and sultry baritone that rumbled against Jedd’s breastbone.

The senator snored before Jedd had a chance to answer, and the lad melted back against him, sighing with what sounded like relief. Their close contact made a certain part of Jedd’s body grow stiffer while the rest seemed to want to melt into a puddle.

Would the rentboy mind sneaking in a quickie? Jedd would even pay if he had to, the lad was that gorgeous. Or would the stun charge have set off the internal alarm system? Probably best not to risk dawdling too long.

Still, seemed a shame to waste a moment like this now that Artaxico was unable to interfere. Jedd loosened his hold and let the young man turn in his arms. Holy fuck, Jedd could feel the whore’s massive erection prodding his thigh.

He took a deep breath, forced it out. Focus. Not here. Not now. Just gather information. “Captain Jedd Lightning, at your service. And who might you be, gorgeous creature?”

The man chuckled, stepping away from him and turning to fix him with a pair of intensely soulful deep green eyes. “My working name’s Divine, but you can call me Storm.”

“Divine? But… You’re meant to be a girl!” Jedd spluttered.

The young man gave a maddening, secretive smile. “Divine can be whoever you want, Captain. Divine is simply the title of your ideal lover.”

“So they swap you around depending on what the johns want? There are other Divines?”

“Something like that. But please, call me Storm.” A plaintive note sounded in his voice and his lower lip jutted in an almost-pout. “No one ever does these days.”

Storm. It suited him, as there was a wildness in those eyes that Jedd thought he recognized, something he glimpsed in his own reflection every morning. Focusing on Storm’s eyes proved a challenge, though, when there was all that naked flesh to feast his gaze on. Smooth, bronzed skin, with just enough hair between those dark nipples to make him want to run his fingers through it. Jedd’s gaze followed the trail down all the way to the most majestic cock he’d ever seen. It reached up invitingly, as if seeking Jedd’s hand.

“You have quite an imagination, don’t you?” Storm said, staring down at himself as if in fascination.

Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


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EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk








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Friday, November 3, 2017

Release Blitz & Blogger Review: Merry Gentlemen by Josephine Myles

Title: Merry Gentlemen
Author: Josephine Myles
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: November 3, 2017
Cover Design: Harper By Design
Summary:
’Tis the season of goodwill to all men… even the one who dumped you.

Riley MacDermott is going places. Managing the annual Bath Christmas Market—which involves long hours in the cold and a whole lot of hassle—will secure the promotion he needs to afford to move out of his noisy, top-floor flat. Where not even his balcony is safe from an aggressive seagull.

The last stallholder he expects to see is his ex. Riley never recovered from their break up, and five years on the old chemistry still sparkles. Shame they can’t seem to manage a simple chat without arguing.

Stan never wanted to leave the love of his life, but the pull of the woods was too strong—and Riley wouldn’t hear of leaving the city. Reconnecting is painful, but Stan still jumps at the chance to stay with his old flame during the Market. And damn the consequences.

As the weeks pass, the two grow closer than ever. But despite scorching sex and cozy intimacy, they both know they face a cold and lonely future. Unless they can figure out a compromise.

Warning: Contains sex in a shed, a seagull with a grudge, glamping, awful Secret Santa underwear, misuse of an ABBA song, and as many wood-related puns as the author thought she could get away with.

Re-Read Review October 2017:
It may only be the 1st of November but its never too early to read a Christmas romance, or in my case re-read this little gem from Josephine Myles.  Having been immersed in all kinds of paranormal for the past 6 weeks, Merry Gentlemen was a lovely respite and just as entertaining as I remembered.  Riley and Stan just grow on you but that's not to say you don't want to give them a good shaking or two.  Characters just do their own thing sometimes and they rarely listen to the reader so you just have to let the boys work it out at their own pace πŸ˜‰  So if you're like me and doing a re-read then you'll love it again and if this is a new one for you well as I stated at the beginning, its never too late to let the Christmas spirit into your heart and Merry Gentlemen is the perfect way to do that.

Original Review January 2016:
I featured Merry Gentleman in Part 3 of my Random Tales of Christmastime posts but I only just a got a chance to read it after the holiday.  I've never read Miss Myles before but I will be checking out her backlist this year.  Interesting story of getting what you want only to realize, is it really what you want?, when better than the holidays to have an epiphany about what is really important in life.

RATING: 


You could lose yourself in Stan’s eyes. Well, I could. They reminded me of sun-bleached denim, with a deeper indigo ring around the outside. They were the kind of eyes that spoke of hard work in the great outdoors, and if it hadn’t been for the fact they’d been just the same back when he’d slaved away as a housing officer, I’d believe they really had been lightened by the sun. His hair certainly had. I’d always thought of him as a dirty blond rather than a honey one.

I still thought of him as a dirty blond, although not because of the colour of his hair.

Before my brain could get hijacked by thoughts of just how dirty Stan could be, I recovered my manners and stuck my hand out.

“Stan. Fancy seeing you here. I had no idea. Really.”

Stan stared at my hand like I was offering him a slice of mouldy pizza. I was just about to snatch it back when he grabbed it and held on.

“Ri? You look… You haven’t changed. Not one bit.”

Normally I’d preen a little at a comment like that. Make some allusion to Botox—not that I had any desire to freeze the expression out of my forehead, as how would I cope if I couldn’t do my patented single-eyebrow raise?

But right now, with Stan holding my hand in his rough, calloused—oh my God, he had genuine, honest to goodness callouses!—paw, I found it hard to do anything other than fight down my body’s instinctive response to him. I wanted to hit him and I wanted to lick him all over, and I couldn’t bloody well figure out which urge was winning.

Actually, right now I needed to stop paying any attention to my body and concentrate on keeping my cool. Couldn’t have Stan seeing me ruffled.

“Well, you’ve definitely changed,” I said. “You’ve got that whole rugged, outdoorsy vibe working for you now.” I didn’t need to hide the fact I was checking him out, thank Christ, so I took my time drinking in the sight of him. “Going back to nature really does pay off, doesn’t it? Shit, you never bulked up this well in the gym. And you’re tanned in the winter, but not a streak of orange to be seen. It’s a modern day miracle. Hallelujah.”

“I don’t need to fake it,” Stan growled, tilting his head back to look down at me and making the most of his three-inch height advantage. It was his arrogant-bastard pose, and he bloody well knew I was a sucker for it because I’d once made the mistake of telling him. Never, ever let a toppy git know just how much they turn you on, or you’ll spend your whole bloody life in a state of perpetual turned-on-ness. Was that even a word? It was now.

“What happened to your hair?” I said, reaching out for a lock. “Totally hot, but aren’t you getting a bit old for the whole surfer look? And you’re way too landlocked, down in deepest, darkest Somersetshire.”

“Piss off, Ri,” Stan said, but there was no heat in his words. The heat was all in his eyes, beaming out and frying me like a laser beam. They’d find me later, nothing more than a pair of melted boot soles on the cobbles.

Was that angry heat or turned-on heat? Couldn’t figure it out on him either. I had to face it, we both had ample reason to be pissed off with each other, but five years was a long time to hold a grudge.

“Much as I’d love to get on my way, it’s actually my job to check up on you. See if there’s anything you need any help with. Lend a hand, you know.” Jesus, could I have made that sound any more like a come-on? Clearly my mouth was in cahoots with my dick rather than my brain. I bit the inside of my lower lip, just to show it who was boss.

But Stan just carried on staring at me, while the sun-warmed denim of his eyes frosted over.

“Right. Just your job.” Oh, that guttural Slovakian accent! After the best part of a decade of living in the UK, Stan’s had definitely mellowed compared to when we’d first met, but it was still sexy as hell. “I’ll make sure I let you know if there’s anything you can help me with.” He stepped a little closer then, and tucked both thumbs into the waistband of his combats, hands framing his package like I needed any reminding of what was hidden in there. Well, not so hidden. Whereas I was a grower, Stan was most definitely a show-er, meaning his tackle was almost as big flaccid as it was erect. Not that that was a disappointment. More of a relief, really. If he’d got any bigger when hard, I’d have had to make like a snake and dislocate my jaw before giving him a blowjob.

And I really didn’t need to be remembering blowing Stan right now.

Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


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EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk



πŸŽ„πŸŽ…Author is currently working on Amazon
& I'll add the links as soon as they become availableπŸŽ…πŸŽ„
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N

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Thursday, July 20, 2017

Barging In by Josephine Myles

Title: Barging In
Author: Josephine Myles
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 20, 2017
Cover Design: Harper By Design
Summary:
When the boat's a rockin', don't come knockin'!

Out-and-proud travel writer Dan Taylor is a city boy who can’t steer a boat to save his life, but that doesn’t stop him from heading into the English countryside to write up a narrowboat holiday. Compared to London, the canal seems dull as ditchwater. Until he crashes into the boat of a half-naked, tattooed man whose bad-boy, penniless appearance doesn’t fit with his posh accent. Dan is intrigued, and he always gets his man.

Still smarting from a past betrayal, Robin Hamilton is firmly closeted in his narrowboat—his refuge from outrageous, provocative men like Dan. But as circumstances keep throwing them together, he can’t help himself from coming to the hopelessly out-of-place city boy’s rescue. Exposure to Dan’s sunny charm starts to melt Robin’s resolve and he’s tempted by the idea of a brief, harmless fling.

After all, in less than a week, Dan will have left the canal and be back to his diet of casual hook-ups and friends with benefits.

Determined not to fall in love, both men dive into one week of indulgence…only to find themselves swept away by a current of escalating intimacy and emotional intensity. Troubled waters they didn’t anticipate… and haven’t a clue how to navigate.

Warning: Contains one lovable tart, one posh boy gone feral, rough sex, alfresco sex, vile strawberry flavoured condoms, intimate body piercings, red thermal long-johns, erotic woodchopping, an errant cat, a few colourful characters you wouldn't touch with a bargepole, and plenty of messing about on the river.

Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  FB FRIEND
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EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk








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Friday, July 7, 2017

Handle with Care by Josephine Myles

Title: Handle with Care
Author: Josephine Myles
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 6, 2017
Summary:
Great things come in small packages…

Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. He lost his youth to raising his little sister to adulthood, then made up for lost time with reckless abandon. Two years of constant partying—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tied to a home dialysis regimen.

He can work from home, fortunately, but most of life’s little luxuries are forbidden. Except for watching porn… and fantasising over Ollie, the gorgeous purple-haired skateboarder who delivers his discreetly packaged DVDs.

Their doorstep banter is the highlight of Ben’s solitary day, but his paranoia over his illness-ravaged body prevents him from seeing their flirting for what it really is. He knows Ollie is far too young for him anyway, but he figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.

Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret. But instead of Ollie being repelled they make an unexpected connection that has Ben wondering if he’s been reading the situation wrong all this time. The only way to find out if they have a chance at love is to risk showing Ollie every last scar. And that could take more courage than Ben owns.

Warning: Contains superhero porn comics and a pint-sized, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home.

Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  FB FRIEND
B&N  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk








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Thursday, June 22, 2017

Scrap by Josephine Myles

Title: Scrap
Author: Josephine Myles
Series: Bristol Collection #3
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: June 22, 2017
Cover Design: Harper By Design
Summary:
In a battle of the alpha males, who will end up on top?

On the surface, Derek “Call me Dare” Nelson’s life is simple. He’s happy doing up campervans while living in a slightly illegal caravan in his riverfront yard. But life gets more complicated when a smooth-talking, handsome property developer offers to buy the land out from under his feet—the very same man Dare had to escort from a party nine months ago for causing a drunken scene.

Grant Matravers is living a double life, attempting to adjust to weekends as a single, soon-to-be-divorced gay man while staying in the closet during the week. The strain of keeping up appearances at work while missing his kids is bad enough, but add in an attraction to the shaven-headed, tattooed, totally unsuitable Dare and Grant finds his emotional barriers wearing dangerously thin.

Dare blasts through those barriers in a way Grant isn’t prepared for, challenging everything he thought he knew about himself as a gay man. But as their chemistry heats up and the intimacy between them grows, Grant edges towards a decision that could blow up in his face. Exposing a mess of complications that could destroy any chance for their happily ever after.

Product Warnings: Contains one sharp-suited man desperately in need of redemption, another whose thuggish exterior does a pretty good job of hiding his heart of gold, frotting in camper vans, a sensual head-shaving scene and several (noisy) guest appearances from Mas.



Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  FB FRIEND
B&N  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk



Scrap #3

Junk #1

Stuff #2




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Friday, June 9, 2017

Stuff by Josephine Myles

Title: Stuff
Author: Josephine Myles
Series: Bristol Collection #2
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: June 8, 2017
Cover Design: Harper By Design
Summary:
When Mr. Glad Rags meets Mr. Riches, the result is flaming fun.

Tobias “Mas” Maslin doesn’t need much. A place of his own, weekends spent clubbing, and a rich boyfriend for love and security. Pity his latest sugar daddy turns out to be married with kids. Mas wants to be special, not someone’s dirty little secret.

When he loses his job and his flat on the same day, Mas’s world starts unravelling… until he stumbles across a down-at-heel vintage clothes shop. Now he just needs to convince the delightfully shy owner he’s in need of a new salesman.

Perry Cavendish-Fiennes set up Cabbages and Kinks solely to annoy his controlling father. He’d much rather spend every spare moment on his true passion, art. That is until Mas comes flaming into his life, talking nineteen to the dozen and turning his world upside down.

Against his better judgment Perry offers Mas a job and a place to live, but it turns out he should have listened to his instincts. The shop is already financially on the brink, and Mas’s flirting makes him feel things he’s never felt for a man. Yet Mas seems convinced they can make a go of it—in the shop, and together. That is, until Mas’s past starts to catch up with him…

Warning: Contains an eccentric bumbling Englishman, a gobby drama queen, fantastic retro clothing, scary fairies, exes springing out of the woodwork, and a well-aimed glass of bubbly. Written in brilliantly British English.


The curtain swished back behind the young man with the angelic face, and Perry let his body sag with relief. What the blazes had been going on there? The chap clearly wanted something more than the trousers, but figuring out what was beyond Perry’s limited people skills. Perhaps he’d been sent by Perry’s father to check up on him.

But no, that was just paranoia talking, wasn’t it? His father wouldn’t stoop to underhand dealings like that. In fact, his father would probably come himself so he could deliver a lecture. If he even cared enough to check up on what Perry was doing with his life.

“There a mirror in here anywhere?” a voice called from the other room, rousing Perry from visions of his father lecturing him about wasting his potential and shirking his responsibilities. The customer. Right. Concentrate on him, who most definitively wasn’t anything more than a casual browser, because there was no way his father would employ someone in such cheap clothing.

“A mirror?”

The man poked his head around the curtain, surprising Perry into taking a step backwards. “A big shiny reflective thing. Most clothes shops have them to let people see how things fit. I mean, I can tell they’re comfy and they look good from this angle, but it’s next to impossible to get a good view of my arse. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Perry couldn’t stop himself taking a quick peek at the rear in question. He was no expert on men’s posteriors. He was no expert on women’s either, but he had an inkling that the rear in question would probably fit most people’s definition of attractive. The burgundy wool pulled tight over rounded buttocks. Too tight, actually. There were pull lines running across and spoiling the overall look. “They don’t fit quite right. At the back. You’d need more fabric there.”

“Are you saying my bum looks big in this?” The young man batted his long eyelashes at Perry and thrust his rear end even farther out. He’d split a seam if he wasn’t careful.

“It does look a little too large. But not in a bad way,” Perry rushed to add.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’m just flattered you noticed.”

Perry hesitated before replying. Were they flirting? He’d never flirted with a man before—not knowingly, anyway—but it felt a little like the awkward conversations he’d had with women he was trying to pick up in the past. Back in the days before he’d decided to ditch that whole confusing part of the proceedings and go straight to a professional instead. “I noticed,” he ended up mumbling. “Maybe we could find you something else that fits better.”

“Nah, you’re all right. I shouldn’t really be buying anything right now anyway. Just lost my job, didn’t I?”

“Dreadfully sorry to hear that.”

Now the man was grinning at him with quite the widest, toothiest smile Perry had ever seen. “You’re a posh one, aren’t you? What are you doing hanging out in a dump like this?”

It didn’t feel like an insult, coming from someone with an expression of what felt like genuine interest. And while he knew he should probably take offence, Perry had to face it, the shop was a dump. In the end, he just stuck his hand out. “Peregrine Cavendish-Fiennes at your service. And I own this dump. Well, the business side of it. Not the premises, unfortunately, and at this rate, I’m never likely to. I live upstairs.” Now he was babbling, while the man with the pretty smile and the well-formed rear was holding his hand and stroking his thumb across the back of his hand. Definitely not a platonic handshake, and it sent a strange kind of shiver all the way up Perry’s arm and down his spine, ending up somewhere in his groin.

“Nice to meetcha, Peregrine.” The name came out tentatively, as if he was testing it on the way. “Is that like the falcon?”

“It’s a family name. My paternal great-grandfather’s. But please call me Perry. Everyone does.”

“Perry. I like it. I’m Mas. And that’s short for Tobias Maslin, so I guess that’s kind of a family name too. Not that I ever knew my dad’s surname. Some Greek waiter called Cassius, according to Mum.”

“You’re Greek?” Perhaps that explained the colouring. Mas’s bone structure was too dainty to look classically Greek, but he had a golden bloom to his skin, and the thickest dark eyelashes Perry had ever seen.

“Possibly half-Greek. Or Mum might be lying. Or he might have been lying and was really from Chigwell. There’s no real way of knowing, is there? Not without a time-machine, and I ain’t got one of those stashed away at home anywhere.” Mas seemed perfectly cheerful about his status as a bastard of indeterminate ethnicity, but then again, not everyone had been brought up in a family that could trace their ancestry back to beyond the Norman invasion. Not everyone had a family coat of arms either. Perry wished he could swap places with the hoi polloi. Life must be much simpler without the weight of all that history dragging you down.

“So, Perry, mind if I ask you a favour?” Mas began, and to his horror Perry watched him start to unbutton the trousers. “What?” Mas glanced down at his hands, then back up at Perry. Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Oh, not that kind of a favour. No need to panic. Not that I’d turn you down if you offered or anything, but I wouldn’t ask. Well, that’s bullshit. If we were in a club, I might. You’ve got a lush set of lips on you. Bet they’d feel amazing.”

Perry clapped his hand over his mouth.

Junk #1
Summary:
He loves a good book, but he could love a good man more…

When an avalanche of books cuts off access to his living room, university librarian Jasper Richardson has to face up to the truth. His ever-growing heaps of books, magazines and newspaper can’t be classified as a collection any longer. Jasper is a hoarder, and he needs professional help.

Professional clutter clearer and counsellor Lewis Miller thinks he’s seen it all, but even he has to admit he’s shocked. Not so much from the state of Jasper’s house but from the attraction he still feels for the sexy bookworm he went to school with.

However, Lewis's ethical code forbids relationships with clients, and besides, he's determined to get over his habit of falling for unsuitable men he hopes to "fix". But as Jasper continues to make steady progress the magnetic attraction between them is so strong even Lewis has problems convincing himself it’s merely a temporary emotional attachment arising from the therapeutic process.

Jasper is determined to prove to Lewis that this is the real deal. But first he'll have to explore the root of his hoarding problem—and reveal the dark secret hidden behind his walls of books.

Warning: Contains a level-headed counsellor with a secret addiction, a bespectacled geek with a sweet tooth, a killer “to-be-read” pile, embarrassing parents, a van called Alice, and deliciously British slang.

Author Bio:
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


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Stuff #2

Junk #1




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Monday, May 29, 2017

Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Brit Boys: On Boys


Summary:
From east to west and north to south, these British boys are having a blast in and out of the bedroom with the men of their dreams. They’re topping and bottoming from London to Cardiff, living out fantasies in the wildest fells and hooking up while serving HRH Queen Elizabeth II.

With passion and lust the name of the game, nothing is off limits. Throw in honed muscles, high-strength testosterone and an accent to die for and there is nothing they can’t do and no one they can’t get in this world or another.

Don’t miss Brit Boys: On Boys—a smokin’ hot box set, containing 147,000 words/440 pages of unforgettable M/M erotic romance from eight popular British authors.



Bodywork by Ashe Barker
Alex is doing okay. His body repair shop makes enough to live on, he has a decent apartment, life is fine. That all changes when he runs into Graham in a supermarket car park - literally. He offers to fix the damage to Graham’s car free of charge. The sparks soon fly, and the heat between them has nothing to do with welding equipment.

Breaking the Marine by MK Elliott
Brandon Rosen hadn’t planned for his final night before enrolling in the Royal Marines to involve a hot stranger and a pub car park. And he certainly hadn’t planned for that same hot stranger to turn up at the barracks in the form of his Drill Instructor, Corporal Will Stewart. In the testosterone fuelled environment of the training camp, can Brandon and Will overcome past pains and face up to what they really want? Or will the Royal Marine Commando School break their relationship before it even gets started?

Love on Location by Lucy Felthouse
When Theo Samuels heads off to film on location in the village of Stoneydale, he's expecting drama to take place on camera, not off. But when he meets gorgeous local lad, Eddie Henderson, he struggles to ignore his attraction. A relationship between the two of them would be utterly impractical, yet they're drawn together nonetheless. Can they overcome the seemingly endless hurdles between them? Or is their fling destined to remain as just that?

Landscapes by KD Grace 
Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’s life?

The Chase by Lily Harlem
Steve's killing time working in a comedy club. Why not? It makes him laugh and both the clientele and the comedians are not just fit but also great company. One stand up joker decides to create a wild goose chase for Steve and his ex Robert. Cavorting around Cardiff on a frosty night, however, does more than just show them the way to a threesome, it also reveals the reasons why they should give each other one more shot.

Dish of the Day by Clare London
Richie’s sunk all his hopes and savings into a new restaurant in south London promoting British ingredients and recipes. His best friends Craig and Ben should be around to help him celebrate the grand opening, but it looks like it’s all heading for disaster - until his friends step in to tell him some home truths. Then they’ll help him relax and enjoy their loving, intimate menu instead.

E2 by Sarah Masters
When Archie meets Dan after The Change, he realises there is no such thing as a random meeting of soul mates, it's all mapped out in the stars. Now all he's got to do is hope those orbiting planets stay in alignment and true love finds him again.

Locked Out by Josephine Myles
Getting accidentally locked out of his hotel room on Valentine's Day night is embarrassing enough for teacher Martin Cooper, but the fact he's stark naked makes it even worse. It doesn't help that the one person he runs into is Rod, the gorgeous man he'd been checking out earlier in the hotel pool. But when Rod offers Martin a refuge, the night heats up. Now if only Martin could get the hang of this seduction business...


Bodywork by Ashe Barker
Graham’s bedroom is unfussy, but with just enough in the way of creature comforts to escape being utilitarian. A solid teak bed—very sturdy, with a matching double wardrobe and drawers. He has a huge television screen mounted on the wall facing the bed, and a door leads to the en suite bathroom. That’s all the detail I manage to take in before we come together in a frenzy of kissing and shedding of clothes. We roll across the bed, kicking off shoes, unfastening shirts. I tug my work T-shirt over my head at the same time as Graham unzips my jeans. He reaches for my cock, now fully erect, and squeezes it in his fist.

“Oh, God. Oh, fucking hell.” I let out the low moan as he draws his hand along the length of my dick, slow at first, then pumping faster. I manage to wriggle out of my jeans and shorts without causing him to break contact, and somehow toe off my socks as well. Now I’m naked, but Graham is still wearing his trousers,

Not good. Nowhere near good enough. I grab the waistband and pop the button.

Graham chuckles. “Wait, not so fast.”

“Yes, so fast.” I don’t want to seem over eager, but shit…!

“Condoms?”

“In my jeans.” I’m not given to bouts of religious fervour but I offer up thanks to any deity who might be listening that I am blessed with an innate sense of responsibility and self-preservation, which means I am never unprepared. Well, not entirely. I hope Graham can lay his hands on some lubricant, although I’m not against a little improvisation. I roll to the edge of the bed and rummage among my discarded clothes to retrieve three foil packets. Should be enough. I hope. For now.

“Give.” Graham holds out his free hand.

I’m grateful that he hasn’t seen fit to release his grip on my cock. I drop the condoms into his palm and return to my task of relieving him of his pants.

Graham glances at the condoms. His grin is lust-filled. I suspect my optimism is not misplaced. He tosses the sachets onto the pillow.

Breaking the Marine by MK Elliott
He entered the shower room and hung his stuff on the hooks provided, as the floor was still damp from earlier. He switched on the water and grabbed the soap, planning on stepping beneath the water long enough to soap himself and rinse off, and then get the hell out of there.

The water had barely had enough time to warm up, but he didn’t let a bit of cold water slow him down. He stepped beneath, the frigid spray quickly morphing to warm as he ran the bar over his hard body. Even though it had only been a couple of weeks, he could already see the effect the rigorous training schedule was having. The miles of running had started to whittle down what little body fat he had, his muscles growing more defined. Brandon wasn’t a vain man, but he could appreciate the changes happening to his physique.

Rinsing off, he turned to grab his towel.

He wasn’t alone.

Will stood in the entrance of the showers, holding Brandon’s towel. “What do you think you’re doing, Recruit Rosen?” he said softly. “Do you know what time it is?”

Brandon’s cheeks flushed hot. “Yes, Corporal. I…I had an accident, Corporal.”

Will stepped deeper into the room, closing the gap between them. Brandon was only too aware that Will still held his towel, and that he was standing completely naked, with water dripping down his legs and torso. It wasn’t as if Will hadn’t seen him naked before. After all, they were made to stand naked in front of the drill instructor every night. But this time there was no one else in the room. It was just the two of them again.

“An accident, huh? Don’t you know how to control yourself, Recruit Rosen?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess not? Is that a proper answer? I want a yes or no.” Will’s blue gaze drilled into him, and he felt the stirring in his groin again. Oh God, no. He needed to get a hold on himself. He couldn’t stand here with a full-blown erection in front of Will.

“No, Corporal,” Brandon said in the most direct voice he could manage without shouting. He didn’t want anyone else to hear something, and come and investigate. “I don’t know how to control myself, Corporal.”

Will took another step closer.

More blood rushed to Brandon’s cock, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to put the thoughts of how naked he was and Will’s proximity out of his head. But when he opened his eyes again, he found Will had moved even closer, and the other man’s gaze was travelling down Brandon’s body and had alighted on his rapidly hardening shaft.

“That’s right, Recruit Rosen. It doesn’t look like you can control yourself, does it?”

Will dropped Brandon’s towel to the floor and reached out, his hand circling Brandon’s cock. Involuntarily, he let out a groan. Will squeezed, and instantly Brandon’s erection was rock hard.

Will began to pump, slowly at first, but then picking up speed. “You disobeyed the rules, Recruit Rosen. You need to be punished.”

Brandon’s breath grew shallow.

Will leaned in closer and spoke in his ear. “Turn around.”

He let go of Brandon’s cock long enough to allow him to do as he was told. He faced the tiled wall, still wet. A shove in the back from Will pushed him forward until he was only inches from the wall. His erection nudged the cold tiles, the head swollen and almost purple in colour. The cold sent a little shock through him, making his balls tighten into his body.

“Spread your feet apart and lean forward, so your forearms are on the wall.”

Brandon obeyed orders and leaned his forehead against his forearms. Will’s hand reached back around his body and circled his cock again. He began to masturbate him, his hand sliding up and down his dick.

Brandon became aware of Will’s other hand smoothing down his back, getting lower until it reached the top of his buttocks. With a single finger, Will parted the top of Brandon’s arse cheeks and ran his finger down the crease until he met with the tight pucker of his anus. Brandon froze, his breath held in anticipation, his body tense with excitement. The hand removed, and he heard the click of a cap before cold gel slipped down the crack of his arse. He jerked at the contact, lifting his head up again.

What the fuck? He keeps lube in his gear? Who the hell was this guy? But Brandon was too far gone to question it. He needed Will to make him come more than anything else he’d ever needed.

He felt pressure against the pucker of his back passage again, and Will’s finger slipped inside him with a sharp sting of pain. Brandon moaned, his forehead falling forward to rest back on his forearms. This guy was killing him. Will applied just the right amount of pressure to Brandon’s cock as he matched the pace of the finger he thrust into his arse. Brandon’s hips jerked in time, and he wished Will was in front of him so he could bend him over and use the lube on him. He’d love to force his own cock up Will’s tight back passage, grab his hips and fuck him until he screamed.

The thought pushed Brandon over the edge, and he came hard and fast, white streams of cum spurting over the tiles. Will held him, his finger still in his arse, until the final spasms had shuddered through his body, and then he slipped his finger out of him and released his hold on his dick.

Will reached to the wall and turned on the shower, quickly stepping out of the way so his clothes didn’t get wet.

“Wash yourself off, Recruit Rosen,” he said, as he quickly rinsed his own hands under the stream of water. “You’re a mess. And don’t let me catch you out of bed again during lights out hours.”

Love on Location by Lucy Felthouse
Theodore Albert Samuels strode through Stoneydale Hall, barely giving the opulent furnishings, the priceless art or the stunning architecture a second glance. It belonged to him, after all. It was all his, his birthright, his inheritance.

He stopped suddenly. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, hoping none of the film crew were taking any notice of him. Looking over, it appeared they were still absorbed in figuring out lighting, props and where the actors should stand to get the best shots. Good—he wasn’t due to have a camera pointed at him for another two days; plenty of time to get his head around his role. And it was imperative he did—it was his biggest and highest profile part to date. If he got this right, it could truly launch his career. Maybe even into Oscar-winning territory.

Taking several deep breaths, he pulled himself up to his full height of 6ft 4” and adopted a haughty, disinterested manner—channelling Mr Darcy, perhaps? Either the one from Pride and Prejudice or Bridget Jones’ Diary would do.

I am William Arthur Stoneydale. And this property is mine.

They’d pretty much been given the run of the house—the real owners having gone to the south of France for the summer—so Theo continued marching around, upstairs and down, pulling in everything he could from his surroundings to make him truly feel like lord of the manor.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his mop of black curls and headed out into the gardens. They were beautiful; all manicured lawns, parterres, rose gardens, arches and perfectly placed shrubs. Despite the perfection, Theo felt more comfortable here—probably because he’d always been an outdoorsy sort, ever since he was a child. Only the strict yet loving influences of his parents had coaxed him inside to do his homework, study for his exams and eventually land himself a place at The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, better known as RADA.

The latter had been completely his choice—his mother and father had only wanted him to work hard and do his best. His career options had not been chosen by them, only supported.

Slumping onto a bench, Theo reminded himself of his parents’ wholehearted support and belief. That, and the fact he’d graduated from RADA with a first. Following that, he’d gone from strength to strength.

“Come on, Theo,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this. It’s just another role. A role you can play. Can be.”

His solo pep talk was interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. Then, from behind a line of expertly done topiary appeared a young man, perhaps a few years Theo’s junior.

“Oh,” the other man said, slowing as he spotted Theo, “sorry. Didn’t know anyone would be out here. You’re not filming, are you?” He looked around for cameras. “I was told it wouldn’t be for a few days, give me time to finish—”

Theo cut him off. “Relax, mate, there’s no filming today. Not anywhere. The crew are still setting things up.”

The other man heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s all right then. Gave me a fright, that did. I need to make sure everything’s spot on in the gardens before they get rolling. So, what’s the star of the show doing out here by himself, anyway?”

Theo gave a wry grin. “Oh, I don’t know about star.”

The man made a scoffing sound. Then, “That’s not what I’ve heard. I’m Eddie, by the way. Eddie Henderson.”

Theo took the hand that was offered, and shook it. “Theodore Samuels. Theo. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. So, you never answered my question. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Theo said with a shrug. “Just nerves, I think. I’m struggling to get into the right mindset for this character. But I’ve got a couple of days—so I won’t panic just yet. Actually,” he paused as a bright idea illuminated his brain, “could I ask you something?”

Eddie took a seat beside Theo on the bench, and it was only when they were up close and personal that he realised just how handsome the younger man was. He had a lightly-muscled build, ginger hair, a riot of freckles on his face and forearms, blue-green eyes and a slight gap between his two front teeth. Cute and sexy all at once. Christ, he’s going to be trouble.

Landscapes by KD Grace
It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

The Chase by Lily Harlem
“I like proper museums, you know, like the ones in London, dinosaurs, fossils and stuff.”

“God, I haven’t been there for years.” Robert turned. “We should go.”

“Yeah, that would be fun.” Steve smiled. The thought of a trip to London appealed. Maybe they’d share a hotel room, drink too much and end up rolling into bed again.  His cock thickened. Damn, what was it with him tonight? He was so horny. Any thought of sex had him preparing to hammer nails.

“I’ll have a look at hotels, see if I can get us a deal,” Robert said. “We’ll get the train.”

“Mmm...” Steve could picture it now—a dark, warm room, him bent over. Exactly how Robert had described earlier; spanked, prepared, trembling with need.

“You okay?” Robert stepped close, real close, and looked down at Steve.

Steve swallowed and longing grew in his belly as the image in his mind moved on to Robert sinking his glorious thick cock deep into his arsehole.

The blue-tinged lights from the sign on the museum shone down on Robert’s face, highlighting his strong features and the denseness of his black stubble. Heat from his breath and his body radiated towards him. He was so big; Steve had always felt engulfed by Robert, consumed by his physical strength. He loved that about him.

“Yeah, just been a long time since we had a weekend together, that’s all.”

“Too long.” Robert reached up and stroked the back of his index finger down Steve’s cheek.

The gesture was small but it weakened Steve’s knees. Every tiny patch of his skin that Robert touched felt on fire and his cock went from semi to full hardness.

“Too long since,” Steve repeated.

“Since?”

“Anything. Everything.”

Robert licked his lips, leaving a light sheen on them.

Steve stared at them and remembered when they were his lips to kiss—his lips to slide his cock between. “Fuck!” Robert said, his eyes flashing.

“What?” Steve felt like his heart was going to thump right out of his chest.

What was going on? Was Robert going to admit there was still something between them? Did he feel it too, this growing need and lust?

“I...” Robert shook his head.

“What?”

Robert frowned then took Steve’s face in his hands and hauled him closer.

Steve gasped and pressed his palms on Robert’s jacket, feeling the dense muscle beneath the cool leather.

Their toes touched. They were both breathing hard, the air misting between them.

“I need...” Robert whispered.

“What?” Steve asked again, knowing full well what Robert needed—and it was the same thing as him.

“I need to kiss you. So long...for so long I’ve wanted to kiss you again, Steve. Please.”

“Yes, kiss me, fuck...” Steve clenched his fists, bunching Robert’s jacket. “Kiss me now.”

Dish of the Day by Clare London
“We like things that are comfortable, don’t we, Ben?” Craig grinned and hugged Richie even more warmly. Richie wondered guiltily about personal space issues. But as his friends had made plenty of comments tonight about his reserve, he didn’t want to be the one to cause a fuss if they were now too close. And who was to say it was too close?

“Yes.” Ben agreed with Craig. “Those are the things that we like, indeed.” His eyes sparkled. “And we’d like to share them with you, Richie.”

“Share what?” Richie asked, rather rudely. He’d only just swallowed another mouthful of wine and was still enjoying the aftertaste on his tongue. But so was Ben, it seemed. He was sipping deeply from the same glass that he’d offered to Richie. His eyes shone at Richie over the rim as if they were sharing a secret, rather than a wine.

Richie sighed, leaning back in his chair. Craig’s arms tightened gently around him. It also felt as if Ben rested a hand at the back of his neck—an unusual place to comfort a friend, perhaps, even one facing bankruptcy and ruin.

“Got an investment to protect, eh, Ben?” Craig laughed softly. Richie could smell his warm, spicy cologne. Craig always smelled good—he exuded hot, sexy strength. Richie blinked, wondering where the hell that thought had come from. Or, even if he admitted he knew the answer to that, he didn’t know what had let it loose to frolic in the forefront of his mind. It must be the wine. Must be. His senses were in overload. Could he get drunk, just from a glass or so of quality wine? He’d never suspected his tolerance was that low. His shock must be much more severe than he imagined.

“I don’t need protection,” he said. His voice sounded rather weak.

Ben just smiled. “Sure, Richie. Craig still thinks you’re too skinny, though. Let’s eat first, then discuss anything else later, right?”

Richie was about to protest that there were no staff—that the soup was ruined—that the whole evening had collapsed into disaster and amazement around him—that Craig had already eaten most of the bread—

But his friends ignored him.

“So what do we have to tempt us?” Ben ran his eyes over the plate on the table beside him, full of the food Craig had brought out from the kitchen. Craig laughed softly, a lazy, sexy smile lighting up his face. He leant across Richie, and his long, slim fingers picked up a spear of asparagus, poached gently in butter. A drop of the warm, pale yellow coating dropped back into the dish with a plop.

Richie wriggled on his seat. He felt awkward, suddenly, squashed between them. Their bodies were both pressed against him and he could feel the two heartbeats, beating in different rhythms to his.

Craig pointed the asparagus across Richie and up towards Ben’s face, as if beckoning him. Their eyes met. Craig smiled and reached further forwards, the tip of the spear teasing at Ben’s mouth.

“Mmm.” Ben’s voice was like a purr. “My favourite.”

Richie watched the slim, green finger of food slide into Ben’s mouth. In fact, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Ben was the only thing he could focus on. The generous lips were round and moist around the asparagus. Ben sucked, and the tip slipped in smoothly. It was a very messy food. Of course it was. Richie stared as a generous dribble of melted butter ran down on to Ben’s chin. He reached out instinctively, and wiped it off with his fingertips.

“Thanks.” Ben’s voice was very soft, the tone amused.

Richie flushed and clumsily snatched his hand back. Ben’s skin had been soft and very warm, with barely the hint of an evening stubble. The small, still sane part of Richie’s mind was appalled at how intimate his gesture had been.

But Ben’s sigh was one of pleasure. He caught at Richie’s retreating hand, the fingers damp and glistening with the greasy traces of butter. “It’s very good,” he said. “You’re a brilliant chef. You produce the most perfect tastes. Is it surprising I want more?” He gently twisted Richie’s unresisting wrist, and brought Richie’s fingers back to his lips. Then he started to lick between the digits, slowly and lasciviously, lapping up the remains of the melted butter.

Oh good God. Richie’s mouth opened wide to protest, but no words came out. The caressing tongue was rough like a cat’s, yet smooth like the pure, slick muscle it was. He couldn’t believe how exciting this was. “English,” he said, the word popping out without any forethought. “It’s the best English asparagus I could afford.”

Ben nodded and smiled, and moved closer to him. His breath was now a seductive breeze against Richie’s cheek. “You should taste it yourself,” he murmured.

Richie watched Ben’s nimble fingers wipe the residue from the corners of his perfect mouth, and then those dampened fingertips were reaching for Richie’s mouth, and they were pressing firmly in, and Richie’s lips were closing around them, instinctively—hungrily.

“Suck them,” Ben whispered softly. “I want to see you lick them all.”

Richie was shocked into silence and surrender. The sensations running through his body were something he’d never known before. Christ, he’d never even imagined that a touch could be so erotic. Ben’s fingers were inside his mouth, teasing at the roof, stroking at the tongue; he tugged down Richie’s lower lip, mischievously. And all the while, he was watching Richie as he suckled, daringly, on the slender digits; as he licked the last trickle of butter into his mouth, and swallowed.

“Richie.” Ben sighed, rolling the word around in the back of his throat, like he was savouring more of the wine. “You are magnificent. I always knew you were.” His expression had turned from fascination to greed. He licked quickly at his own damp lips.

Richie gazed back at Ben. They each seemed fascinated by the other’s mouth. It’d be laughable, if it weren’t so thrilling. The issue here seemed to be something very much more than spilled butter. The uncomfortable sensation in his lap was beginning to hurt. What the hell was going on?

Not that he ever wanted it to stop.

Locked Out by Josephine Myles
I woke at some time in the small hours, to what sounded like an earthquake.

Oh, wait.

It was just Michelle, snoring.

She’d gone and stolen most of the duvet too.

Head pounding from all the bubbly we’d quaffed during our “romantic” Valentine’s dinner—a dinner that Speedos-bloke resolutely refused to materialise during—I dragged myself out of bed. The room was pitch black, but I didn’t want to turn on a light in case I woke Michelle. I stumbled towards the en suite, wondering why I wasn’t wearing my undies. I didn’t normally sleep with anything on, but you’d have thought I’d have been a bit more modest, what with sharing a bed with my sister. I suppose I’d have to blame the Prosecco. Bubbly wine always did go right to my head. And to my bladder.

The bathroom door was heavy to open and it took all my strength.

And then I was standing in the light.

In a corridor.

Stark bollock naked.

The door clicked shut behind me.

Oh bugger.

No, not just oh bugger.

Bloody bollocking buggeration!

I knocked on the door softly, not wanting to wake anyone. Well, okay, I wanted to wake Michelle, but I didn’t want to alert the whole corridor to the fact there was a naked man on the prowl outside.

“Chelle!” I hissed, but it was no use. Her snoring got even louder, if that was possible. “Bloody buggering bastards!”

Swearing wasn’t really helping me, but it was vaguely therapeutic, and at least it took my mind off my full bladder. I leaned back against the door, trying to figure out what to do. Perhaps there would be an unlocked broom cupboard somewhere with a handy pile of rags I could fashion into a loincloth or something. Sobering right up, I padded down the corridor. Every room seemed to have a number on the door, though. God, I wasn’t going to have to go down to reception, was I? The thought made my balls crawl up inside my body and my heart pound. I was so caught up in my fear, I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until a figure rounded the bend in the corridor.

Speedos-bloke, to be precise. He stood there, looking utterly edible in what could only be described as pulling clothes—a leather jacket over a tight orange T-shirt and even tighter black jeans—just a few feet away. He had a room key card in his hand, but his big, dark eyes were on me.

I gaped, until his wide-eyed smirk reminded me I was in my Birthday Suit.

I clapped my hands over my groin. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi to you too.”

I was at a loss for words, so I introduced myself. “I’m Martin. Pleased to meet you.” I held out my hand, then realised where it had just been when he raised his eyebrows at it. “Oh, uh, sorry. I, umm, I seem to be a bit lost. Well, not lost, exactly, I mean, I know where I am…”

A slow smile spread down from his eyes to his mouth. “But you do seem to have lost your clothes.” He shook his head, still smiling. “And there was me, thinking maybe room service extended to delivering hot naked men.”

“Umm.” Was he flirting? He couldn’t be. Blokes this gorgeous never flirted with me. But he was looking at me expectantly, and I had to say something. I couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass me by. “I’ll happily be your room service if you could loan me some clothes. And let me use your toilet.”

Oh, smooth. Why did I have to let on I was busting for a piss?


Ashe Barker
Until 2010, Ashe was a director of a regeneration company before deciding there had to be more to life and leaving to pursue a lifetime goal of self-employment.

Ashe has been an avid reader of women’s fiction for many years—erotic, historical, contemporary, fantasy, romance—you name it. Now, at last in control of her own time and working from her home in rural West Yorkshire, she has been able to realise her dream of writing erotic romance herself.

She draws on settings and anecdotes from her previous and current experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her plots and characters, but her stories of love, challenge, resilience and compassion are the conjurings of her own imagination. She loves to craft strong, enigmatic men and bright, sassy women to give them a hard time—in every sense of the word.

When she’s not writing, Ashe’s time is divided between her role as resident taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises and a grumpy cockatiel.

MK Elliott
M.K. Elliott is the author of the bestselling short story collection, Rescued. A British author, she was born in Devon, England, where she now lives with her husband, two young daughters, a crazy Spanish rescue dog and four hens. Though she has a degree in Zoology, her true love has always been writing and she now works as a full time author.

Since Rescued hit the number one spot, she’s also had several other titles hit the bestseller list, including another short story collection, Some Love it Hot, and her erotic vampire novella, Deadly Beauty.

M.K. writes everything from contemporary romance to steaming hot erotica, and her love of travel and adventure is her main influence in her stories.

Lucy Felthouse
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter.

KD Grace
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem is a best-selling, award-winning author of erotic romance. She lives in the UK and writes for several publishing houses including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight, ARe and Sweetmeats Press. She also features in numerous UK and US anthologies, some of which all proceeds go to charity.

Her books are a mixture of full length novels and short stories, some are one offs, some are sequels or part of a series (all can be enjoyed as stand-alone reads). What they all have in common are colourful characters travelling on everyone’s favourite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t deliciously romantic and down and dirty sexy, it won’t be written, at least not by this author. So with the bedroom door left well and truly open you are warned to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride - or rides as the case might be!

Clare London
Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.

She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!

Sarah Masters
Sarah Masters is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, youngest daughter, and a cat in England. She writes at weekends and is a cover artist/head of art in her day job. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Natalie Dae and Geraldine O’Hara.

Sarah also co-authors with Jaime Samms, and as Natalie Dae she co-authors with Lily Harlem under the name Harlem Dae.

Josephine Myles
English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.


Ashe Barker
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MK Elliott
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Lucy Felthouse
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KD Grace
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Lily Harlem
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Clare London
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EMAIL: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk

Sarah Masters
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EMAIL: emmyellis@live.co.uk

Josephine Myles
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EMAIL: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk



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