My Sexy Saturday - When Will I See You Again

Hello again, and welcome to more My Sexy Saturday. Today I'd like to give you a little taste of my m/m paranormal romance/mystery, When Will I See You Again, which comes before When Will I Be Loved. Make-up sex can be damn hot, but I'll let you be the judge as we get a glimpse of Alexx and Raoul. If you like what you see, look for it at Amber Allure. Looks like it's half off, but I'm not sure for how long.

Raoul kissed Alexx with a feverish intensity, moaning his name into his soft flesh. They stripped one another in record time. Raoul laid the pieces of clothing beneath them as protection against the rocky sand. Their tongues tangled in wordless communion, their hands caressing, stroking, inflaming one another’s lust.

They rolled back and forth, limbs entwined, cocks rubbing together in the most exquisite torture. When Raoul tried to take the bottom position for himself, Alexx slid beneath him instead.

“Make love to me, Raoul,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers that shot straight down Raoul’s spine. There was nothing Raoul wanted to do more. But he wasn’t prepared for this eventuality, hadn’t anticipated it. Certainly not in this place.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he confessed, a note of frustrated chagrin in his voice, compounded by his desire for Alexx.

“We don’t need them.” Alexx traced the contour of Raoul’s lips with one finger. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, the only one I ever want to be with. Please, I want to feel you, only you, inside of me…”

Raoul melted at his words, berating himself internally. How could he not have known, not have realized that Alexx was an innocent, an untouched virgin until Raoul came along? In all fairness, Alexx had not reacted as he would have expected. It didn’t matter, not now, but the knowledge only served to reinforce the idea that they were meant to be together, for they fit together as perfectly as if they’d been made for one another.

Raoul continued to protest, but his heart was not in it, and he felt himself surrender as Alexx claimed his lips, stifling his words with his mouth. Their tongues fought for supremacy in a mock battle of wills that ended when Alexx lightly nipped Raoul’s lower lip. The simple bite sent an erotic shiver coursing deliciously through his body.

My Sexy Saturday: When Will I Be Loved

Good morning and Happy Sexy Saturday! Last week, I gave you a peek into When Will I Be Love, my m/m paranormal romance/mystery sequel to When Will I See You Again. Today I am going to give you a different glimpse of Holt and Miller, and tell you that When Will I Be Loved has been contracted by Amber Quill, and will be released on June 7th!  Hooray!

In this scene, Miller and Holt have left Charisma for Miller's apartment. I think the rest is self-explanatory. Enjoy! Then visit the other authors on the hop, whose links follow my tale!

Slowly but surely, the blond unfastened every button on Miller’s shirt. As each bit of bare flesh was revealed, he kissed it, tenderly. The care he took with Miller’s disrobing was without a doubt the sexiest thing Miller had ever seen in his life, and it took his breath away. Passion and desire flamed together inside of him, creating something new, something unrecognizable.

And what was he saying that sounded suspiciously like mine?

Finished with the buttons, the shirt was gently removed and allowed to flutter to the floor. The blond turned his attention to Miller’s jaw line, kissing a slow tender trail along his neck. Miller felt his skin warm at the contact, a white-hot heat that did not burn. He found himself turning his head to allow for better access. The blond’s tongue sucked lightly at the tender hollow just beneath Miller’s collarbone. Miller’s nostrils filled with the scent of the other man. A most intoxicating bouquet, earthy and musky, with slightly floral undertones, like freshly pressed wildflowers. The earthiness reminded him of the sensual aroma of cumin. Somehow he knew he’d never look at that particular spice in the same way again.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” the blond suggested, casting an incredibly sexy, half-lidded look up at Miller. It took him half a second to react as a strong shiver coursed through him, but Miller managed to nod, and once again he was lifted up in those powerful arms, this time carried the short distance to the bed and gently laid upon it. He leaned over Miller, nuzzling Miller’s neck. Miller took advantage of his proximity to plunge his fingers into his honey blond hair, marveling at the soft texture. The blond drew back, and Miller’s hand flopped back to the bed, empty.

“Soon,” he promised, as if sensing Miller’s disappointment, and the smile he gave Miller was dazzling. He turned his attention to finishing what he’d started, this time beginning at the bottom, with Miller’s feet. He carefully removed Miller’s dress shoes and they joined the shirt, followed by his socks. Next, Miller’s belt was unbuckled and unthreaded from the loops, before he turned his attention to the zipper, against which Miller’s erection bulged, begging for release. The blond’s fingers were gentle as he undid the single button, then pulled on the zipper, careful not to catch the fabric beneath in their teeth.

“Raise your hips,” he directed, and Miller obeyed, which facilitated the removal of his trousers, and then his dark blue boxers.

And now Miller lay completely naked, exposed to the view of this exquisite man. One of them was definitely overdressed, and it wasn’t him.

My newest release: Dirty Little Lies

A week ago, I released a new short story with Amber Quill. It's called Dirty Little Lies. It was released once before as part of the Winter Heat anthology, which is no longer in release. The original title was Son of a Preacher Man.

As of right now, my only release scheduled for 2015 is for Crossroads, a story I have coming out with eXtasy no later than March 1st. It's never been released. I'm almost done writing When Will I Be Loved, sequel to When Will I See You Again, and hope to pitch it soon. Keep your fingers crossed for that! And I have plenty of other stories to finish or to start!

Before I give you a little taste of the story, I want to show you the faces I used for inspiration for my two main characters:

Meet Levi Thornton, son of a preacher man

And this is Darjeeling Crane!
















Now, here's a little more about Dirty Little Lies. Enjoy!

Blurb:

Levi Thornton is the closeted gay son of homophobic televangelist Marshall Thornton. So what’s the perfect gift for the father who never cared? Levi’s going to find a yummy young man on Christmas Eve, fuck him all night long and six ways to Sunday. And then he’s going to out himself on live national TV on Christmas Day in front of his father and God and everyone else. 

The problem is he’s having no luck at finding that special someone to share this moment with. Just when he thinks his quest is hopeless, in breezes Darjeeling Crane, and it’s off to the family hideaway for a night of fun. This will be a Christmas to remember, if Levi has anything to say about it.

Excerpt:

Levi rose, loosened his red houndstooth tie, plastered a beatific smile on his handsome face, and strode purposefully toward the blond, never taking his eyes from him. He dropped onto the empty stool beside him, swinging it to face him, their knees touching.

“Merry Christmas,” the blond greeted him.

“It will be,” Levi replied. “It certainly will be.” At that moment the counter girl laid down a menu, a glass of water, and tableware. “Take your time, honey,” she said, walking away before he could comment.

The stranger flipped the menu open. “Anything you recommend?”

Levi blindly jabbed a finger at the open page. “Yeah. Me,” he brazenly replied. “I can give you something a whole lot better than anything you’ll find here. And then I’ll feed you, too.”

“That’s quite an offer, Mr…?” He looked at Levi, the question hanging from his pretty lips.

“You can call me Levi. What should I call you, pretty thing?”

“I like that, but you can call me Darjeeling.”

Auburn eyebrows arched in disbelief. “Like the tea?”

“Exactly.”               

Levi leaned in, his lips brushing against the other man’s ear, his breath warm against his flesh. “I have a place where you and I can go, if you’re interested. Someplace a whole lot better than this ptomaine palace. And a hell of a lot more private. What do you say?” He ran his tongue along the outer shell of Darjeeling’s ear, felt his shiver.

“What do I say?” He laid his hand on Levi’s arm, turned his head just enough that their lips were mere micro-centimeters apart. “I say how soon can we leave?”

Available at Amber Quill

Read the 4 1/2 star review from  MM Good Book Reviews

Bio:

Julie Lynn Hayes first began publishing short stories and poetry in the 1990’s, when it was a different ballgame altogether, and Ebooks hadn’t been dreamed of yet. That changed in 2010 with the acceptance of her first romance novel. She’s come a long way since that first book appeared, and is finding the journey a very educational one.

She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and her cat Ramesses. She often writes of two men finding true love and happiness in one another’s arms, and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She likes to write in different genres, to stretch herself in order to see what is possible. Her great challenge is to be told something can’t be done; she feels compelled to do it.

When she isn’t writing, she enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stich,  needlepoint and knitting, and she loves to cook, spending time watching the Food Network. Her favorite chef is Geoffrey Zakarian. Her family thinks she’s a bit off, but she doesn’t mind. Marching to the beat of one’s own drummer is a good thing, after all. Her published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, eXtasy Books, Amber Quill Press, Torquere Press and Wayward ink.

My links:

Blog

Twitter @Shelley_runyon

Facebook

My Goodreads

Dreamspinner

eXtasy Books

Amber Quill Press

Torquere Press

Sci Fi Sunday with Guest Blogger Angel Martinez

When you think of Science Fiction writers, who do you think of? Asimov? Clarke? Bradbury? Most definitely. But today's science fiction has a difference face and name, and not all of it is male. This is not your parents' science fiction any more, it's a brave new world that women are not afraid to venture into! Having said that, please welcome back my friend and fellow author Angel Martinez, who's going to talk about Sci Fi, and her newest release withAmber Allure.  While she and I belly up to the bar, I'll let her begin.

The Science Fiction Child

Recently, I asked a group of friends to pose questions, anything at all they might want to know about my work and so on. There were some fabulous ones and some that surprised me. This is in response to the question from Emma asking if I was “into SF as a child” and what was it like growing up in a science fiction world of make believe.

That brought a flood of memories. I was interested in the universe at large when I was small, as most children are, but science subjects occupied a lot of shelf space in my room. My indulgent parents purchased a working microscope for me, bought books on stars and planets, on animals and weather, on anatomy and the moon landing. I was only five years old at the time of the first moon landing, but I think it sparked something in my imagination so fiercely, it never quite went away.

I wasn’t the only one, of course. A slew of movies and television shows built around speculation about space, both serious and silly, cropped up in my early childhood – Lost in Space, My Favorite Martian…

Star Trek.

It’s easy to make fun of the original ST, with its low budget sets, its primitive special effects, its tendency toward over-acting, (in certain cases) and its occasional disregard for the laws of physics, despite Mr. Scott’s protestations. But it was original, the characters interesting and accessible, and the themes important ones, explored in environments that removed them from the politics and strife of Earth.

Yes, my best friend and I played Star Trek. I admit it. She was Captain Kirk and I was Mr. Spock, because that’s how our personalities fell and because Kirk and Spock were best friends, too. Of course. The question of gender never entered our minds, nor the question or Kirk and Spock’s actual relationship. We were too young and our minds were filled with aliens, distant planets, tricorders and phasers. Sometimes we tried to have other friends join in, but they never really got it and we’d end up playing dress up or something equally distasteful to us. More often than not, it was just the two of us, transforming the landscape of shelves and boxes in our parents’ basements into alien terrain and starship corridors.

Eventually, my friend outgrew her SF phase. Me? I’m old enough to be someone’s grandmother – and I never have.

Want to see the next thing to spring from my geeky, tilted SF brain?

Launching August 19, 2012 – a new M/M Science Fiction Mystery from Amber Allure:

Sub Zero

By Angel Martinez

Always send the right man for the job – even if he’s been dead for a hundred years.

Blurb:

Major Aren Dalsgaard's newest assignment is to investigate a series of murders on the frigid planet, Drass, where relations between the Treaty settlers and the natives have taken a nasty turn. A linguist and trained xenologist, Aren should be the ideal Special Investigations officer for the assignment. So what's the problem? Drass is where he died, more than a hundred and twenty years ago.

Sent by his family to the chigyel city, Nyachung finds himself confronted with a murder charge, racial prejudice, and a cryo-revived investigator who claims to be a hero from his grandmother’s generation. Major Dalsgaard could be crazy or he could be lying, but the sincerity in his spring-green eyes disturbs Nyachung more than anything else he encounters in the foreigners’ city.

Now, confronted with mysterious black boxes and a beautiful yet evasive young man as a prime suspect, Aren hopes he can solve the murders before his fierce sexual attraction to Nyachung gets the better of him...

Excerpt:

Thuds and muffled screams came from the lab up ahead, only serving to underscore the sergeant’s anxiety. Aren bulled through the door and skidded to a stop, speechless in shock. Nyachung lay on his back on the gurney, stripped to the waist, arms stretched out to either side and strapped down to extensions. The staff had shoved something soft between his teeth, either to keep him from breaking them or to keep him from screaming too loud, and they had electro-pulse leads attached to his forearms, directly over the venom sacs and spur pads. The shocks from the hookup came in pairs, the first forcibly extending his arm spurs and the second zapping the sac in an attempt to force the venom out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Aren bellowed.

The tech stared at him, nonplussed. “Getting your venom sample, sir.”

“By torturing him?”

“It’s standard operating procedure, sir.”

“Since when is physical abuse standard procedure in any branch of the service?”

Sergeant Wickstrom gave him a little nudge. “Sir, use of force in the obtaining of information or cooperation is up to the discretion of the facility commander. It’s in the manuals.”

“In the—you must be joking.”

“Afraid not, sir.”

Aren rubbed both hands over his face. “God. Barbaric century.” Then he stalked over to the tech. “Unhook him, please. Not only is this inefficient, it’s inhumane. Do you have any idea, Corporal, how sensitive those venom sacs are?”

The hapless corporal gulped a breath. “I…don’t know, sir.”

“Imagine hooking one of those damn things up to your testicles and then shoving another up your urethra. That should give you some idea.”

“Yes, sir.”

The poor tech had turned green. Aren patted his shoulder, not wanting the boy to pass out. “Just turn it off. Unhook him. There’s a better way to do this. Several, actually. You could have just asked him for a sample, but now that he’s a shuddering mess, he’ll need some help.”

While the tech unhooked the leads, Aren went around the gurney undoing straps.

“Sir, you know he’s a murder suspect, right?”

“Oh, yes. Terribly dangerous, I’m sure. Maybe you should stand back. Safety first.” Aren perched hipshot on the edge of the gurney and gathered Nyachung into his arms as he switched to dangpo. “Are you with me, little one?”

“Why are they doing this?” Nyachung tangled both fists in the front of Aren’s jacket, shaking uncontrollably.

“Sh, sh, they want some of your venom. To compare it to the venom in the woman you found. If it’s not your venom, then you didn’t kill her.”

A hoarse sound, more sob than laugh came from the little tale-singer. “They could have said so.”

“Yes, they should have.” Aren held up a collection tube. “Can you do it on your own?”

Nyachung held out one shaking arm, well away from Aren. He curled his fingers, forearm muscles contracting. “I can’t,” he gasped out.

Gently, Aren placed his hand under Nyachung’s elbow. “Will you let me help you? I know we’re strangers and this is in front of others, but it would be better than their way.”

Black eyes gazed up at him, wet with unshed tears of pain. “All right. Do you… Have you done this?”

“I have.” Aren massaged his thumb over the tense forearm muscles a moment. Then he reached around, encircling Nyachung with his arms, partially hiding him from prying eyes. He pressed gently on the pad with his thumb, pushing the arm spur out as one would a cat’s claw. Keeping the pressure constant and the collection tube held over the spur in two fingers, he turned his attention to the venom sac. Besides the obvious places, this was the most sensitive spot on a dangpo male’s body.

He caressed the tender, abused skin, barely holding back the urge to curl forward and kiss the spot where the electro-pulse had been. Nyachung made a sweet, whimpering sound that shot straight to his balls and Aren hoped he was holding the stone-faced expression he was trying for. He began to massage the sac, his thumb describing slow, gentle circles. Nyachung twitched in his arms.

“Easy, little one, easy. As soon as you’re able.”

With a soft cry, Nyachung hid his face against Aren’s chest, his body shuddering with pain as he released his venom. His poor sacs would most likely be tender for days but he had managed enough to fill the tube...

Wow, that sounds really good, Angel! Can't wait to read it.  Oh look, those two guys I was telling  you about just showed up. Let me wave at them.




Well, we might be busy for a while. Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie