Blog

Blog Tour: Two Natures by Jendi Reiter

tn-banner

Title: Two Natures
Author: Jendi Reiter
Release Date: September 15th 2016
Genre: LGBT fiction, MM Romance

two-natures

BLURB

Two Natures is the coming-of-age story of Julian Selkirk, a fashion photographer in New York City in the early 1990s. His faith in Jesus helped him survive his childhood in the Atlanta suburbs with an abusive alcoholic father, but the church’s condemnation of his sexual orientation has left him alienated and ashamed.

Yearning for new ideals to anchor him after his loss of faith, Julian seeks his identity through love affairs with three very different men: tough but childish Phil Shanahan, a personal trainer who takes a dangerous shortcut to success; enigmatic, cosmopolitan Richard Molineux, the fashion magazine editor who gives him his first big break; and Peter Edelman, an earnest left-wing activist with a secret life.

Amid the devastation of the AIDS epidemic and the racial tensions of New York politics, Julian learns to see beyond surface attractions and short-term desires, and to use his art to serve his community.

Goodreads

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | B&N | Saddle Road Press

**Kindle Price $0.99 from February 20th – March 17th ** (normally $9.99)

tn-sale

Honors:
2016 Rainbow Awards: First Prize, Best Gay Contemporary General Fiction; First Runner-Up, Debut Gay Book
Named one of QSPirit’s Top LGBTQ Christian Books of 2016

EXCERPT

The storm hit when we were about an hour south of the campgrounds. Sheets of rain covered the Chevy’s windshield. We crawled along, following the fuzzy glow of the taillights in front of us. Peter searched the AM band for a local station that could give us traffic and weather. I refrained from saying that we could see both of those by looking out the window. There’s the difference between us: he likes to know that he can’t do anything about a situation, while I just assume it.

Up ahead, flashing lights and a row of orange cones marked a lane closed off by a wreck we couldn’t make out. Peter was all for pulling off the highway and finding a shortcut via the local roads. Phil’s presence made me less adventurous. We had to get this right. If he’d been awake to vote, though, he would have sided with Indiana Jones, so I resigned myself to studying the map for the shortest possible detour. “Hey, did you know there’s a city in New York called Sodom?”

“Is it anywhere near Coxsackie?”

We bounced along winding roads through tired towns that blended together in the rain: another white clapboard with a sagging porch, another vintage Pepsi sign over a liquor-store marquee (“happy 21st birthday Amanda!”), more black and white cows grazing around a metal silo. I never went in for that Depression-documentary stuff. People who wear overalls deserve their privacy.

After half an hour we seemed to have outrun the rain, but finding our way back to the highway was another story. We stopped for coffee and pie in a diner with turquoise vinyl siding, where the waitress gave us directions to the campsite. I could have sworn one of the truckers at the lunch counter was cruising me. If I hadn’t been with my boys, I might have gone for him, and probably gotten myself murdered. It’s not a good idea to die luridly if no one knows you’re a celebrity. I doubted whether the local Walgreen’s carried Femme NY.

We crested the hill leading into the campgrounds as a yellow-gray sunset was filtering through the pines. Peter surveyed the scene and frowned. “Guys, I don’t think this is it.”

“Nah, I saw the sign, just like the waitress told us — Deer Mountain Nature Preserve,” Phil said.

“But it’s not how I remember it, from when we used to come here — I thought there was a lake, and this little bunkhouse with showers.”

“Maybe we’re on the other end.”

“Does it really matter?” I asked impatiently. “Nature is nature, right?”

“And why is it called a nature preserve? Maybe we’re not even allowed in here,” Peter fretted.

“Cool, we’ll be, like, anarchist squatters,” Phil said. Thus outvoted, Peter pulled the Chevy into a broad clearing with a view of the mountains, where we would pitch our tents. He’d brought two,

in case Phil and I wanted some privacy. The ground was damp and spongy under a fragrant carpet of pine needles. I sprayed a mist of bug repellent all around us. In the forest, you think it’s quiet, but it really isn’t, once you let go of expecting to hear human voices. Phil had brought a battery-operated radio that played staticky doo-wop oldies (the only station we could find out there) while I built a campfire.

The sky slowly turned from purple-gray to black. We drank Cokes because Peter didn’t like mixing beer and weed, and cooked hot dogs on sticks over the sputtering fire. Phil tried to get away without eating anything with his evening pills. “I thought you always had an appetite for this,” I said, waggling a plump hot dog in front of his face. We ate that one from both ends and met in the middle, and Peter sang the Italian-restaurant song from “Lady and the Tramp”, and I laughed so hard the soda came out of my nose.

The radio was off. If we strained our eyes, we could see faint stars that vanished into the cloud cover when we looked directly at them. “I want to try and find the lake,” Peter said.

“It’s too cold to swim,” I said. “We should have come sooner.”

“I just want you guys to see it.”

A nearly-full moon had risen, cresting and sinking in the swells of clouds that drifted across its light. That and our flashlights helped us find a marked trail. There was no reason to think that it led to any lake, but we were buzzed and lucky to be there, and why not hope our luck would hold?

Phil slapped at the mosquitos that were drawn to our flashlight beams. “So there, suckers — my blood is toxic.”

“Must you think about that every minute?” I said.

“I got a right.”

Peter slowed down to put his arm around my shoulders as we trudged uphill on the winding trail. My tense breathing eased and I began to enjoy the trek in spite of myself. The spindly pines swayed above us in the wind. Our slow progress through the dark was hypnotic. Peter hummed a tune under his breath and we joined in intermittently to stay focused. I heard Phil cough a couple of times but he didn’t stop walking or look back at us, so I couldn’t do anything.

The trail ended at the edge of a rocky outcropping overlooking a valley. Silver light flashed below us, a fast-moving stream tumbling over glistening rocks. To our left, a thicker, darker gray cloudbank was building up, edged with moonglow.

I reached out to pull Phil closer to me so we were all holding each other. Maybe it was the whisper of the stream we heard, or maybe it was too far away and we only heard the trees tossing in the wind. Warm from the climb, I spread my top-layer sweatshirt on the ground for Phil and me to sit on. We leaned against each other and kissed, while Peter sat cross-legged on Phil’s other side, holding his hand.

“Got your camera?” Phil whispered. “Like you ever don’t.”

“Too dark…besides, right now…let’s just be here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Oh, those blue eyes. I saw you, Phil, I was inside you, closer than sex, clearer than words. And you in me. I hope, I believe. In the end, you trust it or you don’t, the ground under your feet, the air in your lungs, and something surrounding you that’s more than particles of heat and scent and skin.

The distant sky rumbled. A small flock of dark birds swooped and scattered into the valley. Phil sneezed. I took off my other sweatshirt and wrapped it around him. He didn’t object. Peter stretched out on the ground, propping his chin in his hands, and looked down at the stream with a sigh. “I guess this is as far as we’re going to get.”

“It’s all right,” Phil said. “I’m happy here.”

“Good, ’cause we’re going to leave you here,” I deadpanned.

He slugged my arm. “Hey, you promised me an ice floe.”

“What’s the big deal about the lake?” I asked, since Peter was still acting glum.

“It’s where he lost his virginity,” Phil teased.

Peter rolled over and swatted at him. “Ah, screw you.”

“Is it?” I pressed him.

“For your information, I lost my virginity in the back of a comic-book store in Brooklyn Heights. And I bet I was ahead of either of you guys, too.”

I wolf-whistled. Phil said, “I moved in with Ted, that was my first boyfriend, when I was sixteen, but we’d been doing it since the year before. He worked construction, like me, and the first time, we were fixing up this old lady’s attic and we all of a sudden got all over each other, and when she complained about the noise we told her she had squirrels.” Peter and I laughed. Phil looked expectantly at me.

“Define virginity,” I stalled.

“Fucking or being fucked. Messing around doesn’t count.”

“So how old were you?” I asked Peter.

He hesitated. “Thirteen.”

Phil made a face, like he didn’t believe this, but I didn’t think Peter was kidding. “Who the hell would do you at thirteen?” I blurted out.

Peter looked away. “Hey, I wasn’t totally hideous,” he muttered.

“No, I meant — ” Too frustrated for words, I touched my hand to his cheek. “I’m sure you were as delicious then as you are now, but I’m feeling this primitive Southern urge to punch that guy in the face.”

“It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was good. I liked him.”

I stayed where I was, touching him. He wrapped his fingers around mine.

“Who…who was he?” I didn’t want to know, but I had to.

“Uh, a friend of my dad’s. I worked in his store the summer after the last time we came here — after my real mom found out about Ada.” He gestured impatiently at the view. “Only it’s not here, we’re somewhere else.”

“Wherever you go, there you are,” Phil volunteered.

“Oh, profound,” I said.

This time the dull boom of thunder sounded closer. The wind had picked up, whipping the branches around. “Oh crap, we’d better get back,” Peter said.

“Not until Julian tells us about his first time.” Phil slid his hand down my leg. I felt a flash of desire and wondered about the mechanics of safe sex in a sleeping bag.

“It was you,” I said, almost inaudibly.

Phil glanced up from nuzzling my neck. “Naw…I thought you’d been with lots of guys,” he said, just as softly.

“Yeah, but we said blowjobs didn’t count, only real sex.” I kissed his ear, trying to revive the tender mood of a moment ago.

Rain began to patter lightly on the leaves. “Guys, come on,” Peter urged, standing up.

Phil hung onto my thigh, keeping me on the ground. “What about the first time you were on the bottom, was that me too?”

“Let’s talk about this later, please?”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know, okay?” I burst out, pushing him off me. “He was just some guy in Central Park.”

Phil caught up to me as I followed Peter’s bobbing flashlight beam along the narrow path downhill. “Here’s your jacket,” he said gruffly, draping the grass-stained sweatshirt over my shoulders. He didn’t take his arm away afterward, pretending to need my support as he dodged the humped tree roots underfoot.

Superimposed on the path before me, there returned my one memory of that man’s lined and wistful face, the pure gratitude in his eyes when he held me for a few seconds after fucking me under the arcade by Bethesda Fountain. I hadn’t expected it and it hurt quite a bit, though there was a thrill in it too, the way he invaded the center of me, opening what had always been closed.

The downward-sloping trail was slippery with wet leaves. Distracted by my thoughts, I stumbled and fell, skidding on my ass into a clump of bushes. The sky chose that moment to flush its cosmic toilet. Water poured down hard. I swore as the prickly bushes snagged my clothes. Phil tried to help me out but got entangled himself, like two fools in a fairy tale glued to the golden goose.

“I’m sorry,” he shouted over the noise of the storm. His face was smudged and wet. “Jule, I know…I know you didn’t want…to be with me, like this.”

“Phil. I love you.” Words I’d never said before. I warmed his rain-chilled lips with mine. His arms were the most solid thing in the world. How could they vanish, how to conceive of a time when all of us would become unreal?

Doubling back with the flashlight, Peter found us still clenched in our silent embrace. Since he was the only one who’d thought to bring gloves, he had little trouble pushing aside the thorny branches. We found our way back to the campsite in silence.

“Oh, crap crap crap!” Peter exclaimed when we saw the fallen tree limbs crushing his tent. He did this little stomping dance of frustration that would have been funny if we’d been watching it from someplace dry. He glanced back and forth from us to the other tent, which had stayed upright. “Okay, I guess I’m sleeping in the Chevy.”

Phil and I exchanged a look of agreement. I was just desperate to get him inside. He wasn’t hiding his shivering very well. “No, there’s room for you,” Phil said.

Inside the tent, we stripped down to our T-shirts and underwear, leaving our wet clothes in a heap by the door flap. Peter had found some spare blankets in the van to supplement the two sleeping bags, which were barely enough to cover the three of us when we zipped them together to make a sort of comforter.

I thought Phil should go in the middle. “Nah, night sweats,” he said, nudging me to change places with him. His eyes were saying more than that. So I lay against Peter’s chest, with his arms around me, and Phil, on my other side, reaching over to hold Peter’s hand where it rested at my waist. Phil tucked his head into the curve of my neck, the way we always liked to sleep. I felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, and heard the faint wheeze of his breath growing more regular

as he drifted off. Peter’s body, too, relaxed without easing his hold on us. I was just thinking about kissing him goodnight — on the cheek, would it be so wrong? — when he pressed his face to mine. Silent softness of mouths and tongues, a few minutes standing in for all the time gone and time to come, until the three of us were sleeping in the incomparable warmth we made together.

Giveaway: WIN a $10 Amazon giftcard

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author

jendi-reiter-profile-pic

Jendi Reiter’s books are guided by her belief that people take precedence over ideologies. In exploring themes of queer family life, spiritual integration, and healing from adverse childhood experiences, her goal is to create understanding that leads to social change. Two Natures is her first novel; a sequel is in the works. Her four published poetry books include Bullies in Love (Little Red Tree, 2015) and the award-winning chapbook Barbie at 50 (Cervena Barva Press, 2010). She is the co-founder and editor of WinningWriters.com, an online resource site for creative writers.

Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter

February 20th Virginia Book Review Virginia Lee https://www.facebook.com/bookreviewvirginialee/
Stephenee Nerd Girl Official http://nerdgirlofficial.com/
February 21st Nic Because Two Men are Better Than One http://www.becausetwomenarebetterthanone.com/
February 22nd Addison Stories That Make You Smile https://authoraddisonalbright.com/
Anne Drops of Ink http://anne-barwell.livejournal.com/
Melanie Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words http://scatteredthoughtsandroguewords.com/
February 23rd A L Boyd A L Boyd https://alboyd9.blogspot.com/
Heloise Velvet Panic https://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/blog/
February 24th Tina Happily Ever Chapter https://www.facebook.com/happilyeverchapter
February 27th Toni FGMAMTC http://fangirlmomentsandmytwocents.blogspot.com/
Jennifer MJs Book Blog and Reviews https://www.facebook.com/MJsBookBlogandReviews/
February 28th Kimi The Kimi-Chan experience http://kimi-chanexperience.com/
March 1st Sandra My Fiction Nook http://myfictionnook.com/
March 2nd Queue Prism Book Alliance http://www.prismbookalliance.com/
March 3rd Mari Bayou Book Junkie http://bayoubookjunkie.blogspot.com/
March 6th Kirsty All in One Place http://kirstylovesbooks.wordpress.com
Amy A M Leibowitz http://amleibowitz.com/
March 7th Dawn Dawn’s Reading Nook https://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/
March 8th Pixie MM Good Book Reviews https://mmgoodbookreviews.wordpress.com/
Ilona Bonkers about Books http://felinewyvern.blogspot.co.uk/
March 9th Carra Making It Happen http://moonangel23.blogspot.com/
March 10th Nell Nell Iris https://nelliris.wordpress.com/
March 13th Shay Triple A http://www.facebook.com/tripleabookblog
March 14th Meredith Diverse Reader http://www.diversereader.blogspot.com/
March 15th Dana Outrageous Heroes http://www.facebook.com/outrageousheroes
March 16th L M Brown https://lmbrownauthor.wordpress.com/
Christina BFD Book Blog http://bfdbookblog.net/
March 17th Jaime Alpha Book Club http://alphabookclub.org/

embrace-button-small

#rainbowsnippets: Ardent #4

tuscany_general2

Welcome to another awesome Rainbow Snippets weekend!

Follow this link: RainbowSnippets

“Writers and bloggers: please post 6 sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction or a book rec on your blog or website and link to it here in the comments. Don’t forget to include a link back to the group in your post so your regular readers can follow it back and enjoy the snippetry!

*

Everyone: follow the links in the comments of this post to enjoy snippets from a cool group of writers and bloggers. You might find historical fiction, YA, something sweet or something spicy, but the common thread is that all main characters will identify as LGBTQ+. Comments and shares are always appreciated!

Please share on FB or Tweet using hashtag ‪#‎RainbowSnippets‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬”

<<~>>

On February 1st, Ardent, my gay historical romantic suspense, was released, thanks to my wonderful editor Julie Bozza and Manifold Press. It takes place during the Renaissance in Medici Florence about 1475. Here they are in the Tuscan countryside, in the midst of their affair.
*

Morello awoke to birdsong thick in the afternoon air. In the heat, their sleeping bodies had separated in the long grass. An arm’s-length away naked Benedetto lay on his back, head pillowed on his arms, his face turned toward Morello with closed eyes and a small smile. Morello plucked a piece of long grass and tapped it against the sleeper’s nose, his lips, then tickled down his neck. The grass touched his chest, tapped one rosy nipple, then the other, snagging in the soft honey-gold chest hair. Benedetto twitched and groaned, brushing at the frond in sleep. Morello grinned and tickled Benedetto’s cock as it nestled in crisp gold curls, and then swept the grass down his thighs. Benedetto opened his eyes and sat up, his serious gaze catching Morello and holding him there.

 

Some sales links and chapter 1: http://manifoldpress.co.uk/2017/01/ardent/

Ardent Valentine’s Day Coda

Winter 1475, Florence

Bells tolled across the city of Florence to declare the hour before dawn, muted by the shuttered windows of the room and the crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Morello had pushed himself up to prop against the headboard a few moments before and now sat with sketching book in hand. Gazing on his sleeping lover, his hand moved to capture the dreaming Benedetto in the sparse firelight, and Morello’s heart beat fast with quiet joy. His pen scratched across the paper; he barely had to glance down, for he knew this face, could trace its outlines with a blindfold on.

Eventually he had to lay the charcoal down, before the dawn revealed them. Morello put his hand to Benedetto’s head and rubbed gently until blue eyes opened, sharp with irritation and then soft with love.

“I was dreaming of you.” Benedetto sat up, the coverlet falling from his naked torso. “Ah!” He snuggled back down under the covers and shoved himself closer to Morello. “It’s cold in here!”

Morello set the sketch aside and wrapped one arm around Benedetto. “It’s snowing.”

“Really!” Benedetto leaped from the bed and hopped naked to the window. He shivered and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “Oh, you liar, it is not!”

“I got your lazy bones out of bed.” Morello laughed, grabbed his lover around the waist as he made to dive back in the bed, and stood. “It’s time to go to work, love. And it will be snowing soon by the look of those clouds.”

“No, just more rain.” Benedetto sighed. He turned into Morello’s arms, pushed chest and hips against Morello’s with a smile. “You warm me. I think we might have time for—”

“Work…”

Benedetto kissed him with warm lips that tasted of cherries and sweet red wine. The taste of love.

luca_signorelli_-_figures_in_a_landscape_-_two_nude_youths_-_toledo_museum_of_art

(Luca_Signorelli_-_Figures_in_a_Landscape_-_Two_Nude_Youths_-_Toledo_Museum_of_Art.jpg)

Cover Reveal: Scarred by Mia Kerick

scarredcr

Title: Scarred
Author: Mia Kerick
Release Date: March 1st 2017
Genre: New Adult, Gay Romance

final-cover-scarred-vedie-lipstick-1

BLURB

From bestselling author Mia Kerick comes a New Adult Gay Romance that will keep you up reading all night!

Matthew North waited ten years to heal from the devastating wounds inflicted by the man who abducted and abused him as a child. Living reclusively on a tropical island—with no company but his four cats—he merely avoids the lingering pain.

Wearing twisted ropes of mutilated skin on his back, Matt struggles with a profound hindrance—the scars that deaden his soul. However, on the night he meets lively Vedie Wilson, a local restaurant busboy who expresses his gender by wearing lipgloss and eyeliner along with his three-day beard, things change.

Gradually, Vedie and Mateo unite in friendship. Through a series of awkward encounters, the pair learns each other’s secrets. Vedie learns that an angelic face can front for a scarred soul. Matthew learns that the line between one’s masculine and feminine sides is blurred. Can they embrace the painful stories behind each other’s scars if they’re to find everlasting love? Or will surrendered love come to be yet another blemish on their souls?

Pre-Order: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Goodreads

EXCERPT

VEDIE

“Hot damn! Who be dat fine lady?” Joey knows I ain’t a lady, and I wish he’d shut his trap, but I don’t tell him so. I turn my head away and roll my eyes twice as I head past the bar. “Who’s the lucky guy who’s gonna get some of dat tonight?”

“Ain’t gonna be you, Joey.” And sure, maybe I say it out loud, but not loud enough for him to hear, ‘cause I don’t want to piss him off. Pissed-off dudes can be dangerous.

I only been working here a week-and-a-day now, but I’m pretty sure my coworkers are cool with the way I dress. At work, I gotta wear my green Tiki Hut T-shirt and tan shorts, just like everybody else. But I don’t hide my lady side down here on Placida Island, and I ain’t never gonna hide her again. The sad fact is, the way I show the world who I am is all fucked-up. But it is what it is, and that’s why I ain’t never goin’ back to Boston—I can’t go back up there and be me. Not if I wanna live to see another day, and shit.

“Ain’t you people never seen a boy dressed up nice and pretty before?” I shout it back over my shoulder, flashing a big grin, knowing that my lips look good, all shiny and red.

“Vedie, have yourself a good evening!” one of the ladies calls out. I smile inside ‘cause I think my coworkers like really me. I ain’t used to being liked just the way I am. Maybe anything goes on this tropical island in the middle of freakin’ nowhere.

I look around to see if Crazy Matt is lurking around the bar. Crazy Matt—that’s the name all of the waiters at The Only Tiki Hut gave to this gorgeous, but pissed-off-looking customer I made a play for earlier tonight. I actually leaned down and whispered into his ear, “Take me home tonight, Mateo.” I like how Mateo sounds way better than Crazy Matt, and it’s pretty much the same damn name, at least it is in my neck of the woods.

I didn’t stop and wait for his answer ‘cause I know it don’t work that way with guys like him. If Mateo wants to hook up with me, he’ll make it happen. If he don’t want it, there ain’t nothin’ on God’s green earth that I can do to make him change his mind. But I reminded him real clear that I was one of his options, and then I’d moved on.

About the Author

mia-blue

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—one in law school, another in dance school, a third in school at Mia’s alma mater, Boston College, and her lone son still in high school. (Mia is a major fan of the learning process!) She writes LGBTQ romance when not editing National Honor Society essays, offering opinions on college and law school applications, helping to create dance bios, and reviewing English papers. Her husband of twenty-three years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about this, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young people and their relationships. She has a great affinity for the tortured hero. There is, at minimum, one of these in each book. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with tales of said tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to CoolDudes Publishing, Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press, and Evernight Publishing for providing her with alternate places to stash her stories.

A social liberal, Mia cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads

embrace-button-small

Amazon $10 gift card:

a Rafflecopter giveaway
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

 

#rainbowsnippets: Ardent #3

angel_musician_melozzo_da_forli_renaissance_art_wall_clock-r9b2f924d621a404495a3fe86ed82f35f_fup13_8byvr_324

Welcome to another awesome Rainbow Snippets weekend!

Follow this link: RainbowSnippets

“Writers and bloggers: please post 6 sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction or a book rec on your blog or website and link to it here in the comments. Don’t forget to include a link back to the group in your post so your regular readers can follow it back and enjoy the snippetry!

*

Everyone: follow the links in the comments of this post to enjoy snippets from a cool group of writers and bloggers. You might find historical fiction, YA, something sweet or something spicy, but the common thread is that all main characters will identify as LGBTQ+. Comments and shares are always appreciated!

Please share on FB or Tweet using hashtag ‪#‎RainbowSnippets‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬”

<<~>>

On February 1st, Ardent, my gay historical romantic suspense, was released, thanks to my wonderful editor Julie Bozza and Manifold Press. It takes place during the Renaissance in Medici Florence about 1475.
Falcone is a secondary character–I actually hope to give him a full-length story, another mystery to solve.  He’s the polar opposite of Benedetto, but he also loved Master Leo, in his way. In this scene, Falcone is desperate for Benedetto to give him some money so he can escape Florence because…reasons. These are Benedetto’s thoughts:
*

Falcone exuded heat and dangerous male, made more potent by the leonine strength of his face, pale blue eyes, and a thick mane of yellow hair. He needed no padded doublet to give him the much-desired line that was all the fashion for Florentine men. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist; his wares, Leo had often wryly commented, on display for all to see. Falcone knew well what his lovers wanted from him and he from them. He knew too well the darkest hearts of men and women and had armed himself with knife and short sword in his belt.

Some sales links and chapter 1: http://manifoldpress.co.uk/2017/01/ardent/
The first reviews of Ardent are here on Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33643042-ardent

PreRelease: Jaeger/Order of the Black Knights by Evelise Archer

jaegerfs_v1

 

Release Date: February 10, 2017

Jaeger Blurb

US Marshal Jaeger Tripp is assigned to the Federal Witness Protection Program. The hurt and destruction he’s seen—along with protecting criminals who are only cooperating with the authorities to keep themselves out of jail—have left him with a bleak and jaded view of both life and people. His current assignment is Wren O’Riley, a computer wizard who witnessed a high-profile cartel hit.

 

To Jaeger, Wren is the same as any other job. He must protect him long enough to get him to testify at trial, and his personal feelings have no place in his work and must be set aside. But that’s easier said than done. On the run and fighting for their lives, Jaeger and Wren can’t help but grow closer. And Jaeger can’t help seeing beyond Wren’s nerdy exterior to a man who might be just what Jaeger needs to settle his soul and capture his heart—if they survive long enough to get that chance.

 

Order of the Black Knights

Every century has seen its knights. But there are those who are never seen. They do what must be done, what has to be done—when nobody wants to get their hands dirty. They are called the Black Knights. First created in the 1100s by the wizard Moriel, these men seem cold and hard, and it is said that some have no soul. But for each knight, there is one who can bring out the man who waits inside. The question is whether or not he will kill the individual before he figures it out.

Through the ages, they’ve conquered and ruled and taken what they wanted. And they have adapted to modern times. Instead of being bullies for hire, they have taken their skills further—the Internet, the CIA, government infiltration, hacking, special ops, assassination, but each one of them has a need they don’t understand—to squash, kill, or destroy.

If the Knight pardons an enemy, he will no longer be cursed. If not, he will continue to live the same life again and again, and each life will make him harder and more unyielding. And each life will make it is less likely that he can be saved.

 

Excerpt

Wren looked out the dusty front window and admired the view from what would be his home for a while. He wasn’t just thinking about the studly marshal. The log cabin appeared to be modern-rustic—if that was a style. The sturdy log structure had a wide wraparound porch and sported three rockers made of rough wood.

Wren loved the to-and-fro motion of a rocking chair—something he learned from his mother on the countless days they spent together on the family property in New Mexico, whiling the hours away. He had fond memories of his mother, and even some of his family members during those days—before he started to work for his uncle and realized exactly what the family business was. He longed for those languid days again, and if Jaeger permitted him some respite, he’d take it on the front porch, rocking.

“Home for the next month.” Wren’s daydreaming was interrupted by the deep soulful voice of his watcher.

“There’s no place for you to go, so I’ll have those handcuffs now. You’re up shit creek if you have the balls to wander in the High Peaks on your own.” Wren lifted his cuffed hands from his lap and allowed Jaeger to remove the restraints.

“I’ll get our bags.” Wren rubbed his wrists as he extricated himself from the front passenger seat. The lock mechanism on the hatch of the SUV released, and Wren opened the door and pulled out the two suitcases. He also noticed the cooler and a few other bags. Provisions.

Dragging their luggage across the gravel and dirt clearing proved more difficult than expected. His arms were a little numb from being in cuffs for so long. Wren made it to the bottom of the steps and maneuvered each bag up onto the porch and then waited for Jaeger to unlock the door.

Jaeger grabbed his small bag from the backseat of the driver’s side and strode to the door as Wren carefully scrutinized him. The marshal definitely had a chip on his shoulder.

“Is there a problem with the accommodations, Mr. O’Riley?” Wren couldn’t miss the disdain in Jaeger’s voice.

“No, there isn’t. Actually I was thinking how beautiful it is here and how this would make a nice vacation home,” Wren replied.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. We’re not here for a fucking vacation.”

Wren nodded and accepted Jaeger’s attitude and waited patiently as he punched a code into the panel and unlocked the door. Jaeger brusquely entered before him and offered no help with the bags.

Wren plopped them on the ceramic-tiled floor at the entrance and then did a three-sixty of the large, open room. The cabin truly was beautiful. Under other circumstances Wren could picture himself being fucked by the marshal in front of the large stone fireplace. Jaeger Tripp was just his type—bad-boy attitude, soulful voice, and a strong chiseled jaw. His legs went on forever, and Wren imagined himself wrapped around Jaeger’s tapered waist. They might be the same height, but Marshal Jaeger Tripp had a good fifty pounds on Wren’s slenderer body. He looked as if he could lift a small car.

“Marshal, should I put the bags someplace specific or leave them here on the floor?” Wren moved farther into the room where the ceramic tile turned to dark, notched-wood floors. Besides the large fireplace, the living space had two striped sofas in reds, blues, and tans, with accenting pillows and a large braided rug. The kitchen, although it appeared slightly older, was clean and contained a small table and two wooden chairs. The one thing Wren noticed right away was the coffee pot on the counter. What he wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee, but he dared not ask.

“There’s two bedrooms down the hall, last two doors. Toss my bag in the last room and yours in the second.” Jaeger motioned with his head as he made for the front door. “I need to get the cooler and rest of the bags. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Jaeger walked out the front door into the dusk. Wren strode down the hall, passed a bathroom on the left and a closed door on the right, and then came to what would be his room. He left his bag in front of the door and proceeded to move to the last door, open it, and enter with the marshal’s bag. The room was decorated in a country motif, and the focal point was a large, heavy wooden bed. Wren wondered if the marshal slept in the buff. A man could dream. The door to a separate bathroom was open, and Wren could see a large claw-foot tub. Nice.

Wren wondered if the government bought the cabin already made or if they had it built to suit their needs—secluded enough to attract no attention, yet within some distance of civilization.

Wren opened the door to what would be his new sleeping quarters and placed his bag on the quilt-covered bed. The room looked very much like the other bedroom, just a tad smaller and minus its own bathroom. He’d have to use the one in the hall.

He made quick work of unpacking his meager belongings, placed them in the chest of drawers, and stowed the bag in the closet. He heard movement outside his door but tried to keep his mind off the marshal. He grabbed his toiletries, stored them in the extra bathroom, and stopped in front of the third door in the hall, which was open—the door closest to the living space.

Wren’s pants tightened when he saw Jaeger’s taut, jean-clad ass. Jaeger was leaning over a chair, banging away on a keyboard. The temporary distraction gave Wren pause. He shouldn’t be lusting after the man who was assigned to protect him, especially when he held Wren in such disdain.

 

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press

https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/jaeger-by-evelise-archer-8133-b

Amazon

https://goo.gl/N1z2ur

 evelise

About the Author

Evelise Archer is a wife, mother, and grandmother. She is a new-found lover of tea, and don’t look in her office because what you find may astound you. She currently has twenty tins of tealeaves just waiting to be brewed for her drinking pleasure. She is bilingual, lives in one of the original thirteen colonies, and is a lover of the cold weather and snow. It’s a safe bet that you may find her on the beach in the autumn and winter, but rarely in the summer. She’s been married for over thirty years to a loving man who puts up with her obsession to clean—she currently owns three vacuum cleaners—, read, and spin a tale when the voices speak to her. When she’s not in front of the computer, search her out in the local gym.

Email: evarcher5@gmail.com

Blog: http://sexyforreview.blogspot.com/

Website: http://evelisearcher.blogspot.com/

Face Book: https://www.facebook.com/evelise.archer.5

Twitter: @EveliseArcher

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/evarcher5/

#rainbowsnippets: Ardent #2

vitruvian

(Leonoardo DaVinci’s Vitruvian man)

Welcome to another awesome Rainbow Snippets weekend!

Follow this link: RainbowSnippets

“Writers and bloggers: please post 6 sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction or a book rec on your blog or website and link to it here in the comments. Don’t forget to include a link back to the group in your post so your regular readers can follow it back and enjoy the snippetry!

Everyone: follow the links in the comments of this post to enjoy snippets from a cool group of writers and bloggers. You might find historical fiction, YA, something sweet or something spicy, but the common thread is that all main characters will identify as LGBTQ+. Comments and shares are always appreciated!

Please share on FB or Tweet using hashtag ‪#‎RainbowSnippets‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬”

<<~>>

Good Heavens, I actually have a new release! On February 1st, Ardent, my gay historical romantic suspense, will be released, thanks to my wonderful editor Julie Bozza and Manifold Press. Since it’s so damn cold today, I’m turning up the heat with this snippet:
~*~

As he walked toward Morello, Benedetto pulled his shirt off to reveal skin, bone, and muscle as sharply defined as a sculpture. Morello had lusted for that body, dripping with river water, and desire struck him hard again. Benedetto stopped to kick off one shoe, then the other. He bent his long body to the floor and lay on his back at Morello’s feet, sprawled there on the scarred boards. Elbows propped the upper half of his body, the muscles in his stomach flexing. He crooked his knees up and let them fall open. The movement tugged the untied waist of his hose down along the line of slightly darker golden hair that buried itself in the tantalizing border of fair curls.

Some sales links and more of the first chapter: http://manifoldpress.co.uk/2017/01/ardent/

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: