When President Alvarez dies unexpectedly, Enry Pruitt is forced into the foreground where he fears his long held secret may be exposed. The new president is gay, and the object of his affection is an officer in the armed forces of which he is commander-in-chief. Navigating his way through the rough seas of a country in crisis, the inexperienced young president must deal not only with his desires, but with a trail of horrendous atrocities from an unknown assailant as well. When an old friend tries to locate him, Enry fears that a lost weekend in Singapore years ago may threaten his career and so much more.
Greg Downs crashed into the Newark City diner and crumbled his large frame into a booth. The world was spinning around him with adrenalin pumping out of proportion. He managed to order a cup of coffee from the waitress who wondered if he was on an acid trip. His breathing was labored and he wasn’t sure if he was in the grip of a panic attack. Newark was used to street people living on the edge of sanity. They were merely ignored, and for this moment in time, Greg was grateful that he was blending in. Waves of nausea held him hostage, and he struggled to maintain some kind of poise in the tiny little world of his booth. The mug of coffee arrived and he couldn’t keep his trembling hands around it long enough to lift it to his lips. Thankfully, the waitress had thought to bring him some ice water, and he put his head down to the glass to sip on the liquid coolness. He was hyperventilating and the diner was growing dimmer and dimmer in his vision. Everything was a blur when he finally passed out in his booth, overcome by excitement and the thrill of the most dangerous escapade of his life. He had just blown up the junior U.S. senator from New Jersey.
“My wife and I met when I was in flight school as a dashing young officer and she was a senior in college. We met in a bar of all places and began dating almost immediately. One of the things I loved about her was that she had a streak of nymphomania running through her. I found her terribly exciting and open to almost anything sexually. A few years into the marriage she confessed that she had no desire to have children, which was contrary to everything we had talked about while we were courting. Then she said she wasn’t satisfied in bed and wanted to experiment with another man in our bed, the three of us. I foolishly agreed to it, and one thing led to another, but I discovered I was fonder of having sex with a man than with my wife.”
Enry sat there enthralled and fascinated, and moved. Michael was opening up his deepest secret and shame, and it drew the president more closely into the mystery of General Michael Shimibura.
“One thing evolved into another, and all I wanted sexually was the pleasure and strength of another man. Valerie’s presence began to turn me off completely. I was away a lot on tours of duty, and after ten years of marriage, we were merely orbiting each other, and I officially moved out. I send her an allowance every month and we agree to live apart until I retire. Mr. President, tell me about President Alvarez.”
The question caught Enry off his usual poise, and Michael could tell that the president’s emotions were rising to the fore. Enry stood up, walked behind the sofa, and put his hands down on the back as he faced Michael to answer the question. Michael watched Enry gather the soul within him to answer a question he had not had the time to deal with in the days since the death of Diego Alvarez.
“Diego, sweet Diego. I can’t imagine a better president. He was genuinely gracious, genuinely kind, and genuinely intelligent. He was a peacemaker. He could bring in members of congress who hated him and they would leave offering to polish his winged-tip shoes. And he was personally gracious towards me.
“Diego was a damned good friend, and I wish he were still president.” He was embarrassed by his emotion but couldn’t contain it. For the first time, he had unearthed his sentiment towards his fallen friend and mentor, and felt exposed by the display of his emotion.
Michael rose from his seat and went to his president. “Mr. President, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and you need to get all of this out of you. From the beginning, you have handled this with great purpose, and I was genuinely impressed at your swearing-in ceremony, when you held the head of the chief justice to your chest and comforted him. You are a man of great ability to love.”
Enry could feel Michael’s strong hand massaging his shoulder in comfort.
“Mr. President, Enry, in case you haven’t heard it from anyone lately, you’re a wonderful man and a beautiful human being. The most exciting thing I’ve ever known in life has been the past few weeks with you.”
Enry’s ears melted in the calming voice of Michael Shimibura, and after a shared three bottles of wine, he stepped into the abyss. As he looked into Enry’s eyes, his hands moved to unwrap the presidential belt buckle.
“Enry, don’t say a word. I’ll say it for both of us.”
“Accidental President,” political thriller/romantic suspense by Dominic Lacerva, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
At Turner’s, gossip and beverages are as important as sharp scissors, but clients know they are safe from having anything repeated. Leaking any privacy is as fireable an offense as putting a side pony on the wrong head. Despite the fact that gossip stopped with Aaron Turner, the owner of the high end salon, the prominent hair stylist wouldn’t miss being out on the floor listening to the stories traded like pirate currency. The murder of a senator is the talk of the day, and the young man accused had been with Aaron only two weeks earlier. He had been a hot fling, but a murderer – no way. When a few more murders occur, including the stylist’s best friend, Trixie aka Robert Landers, who in full makeup was a star, a sexy new detective makes an unannounced visit to Turner’s.
Stretching his arms, he yawned, twisting his lithe body. The lakeside house had the feel of old money, and the client had been easy, but this patron was the exception. Clean and polite, he took his time and never asked for anything kinky. It was rare for the young man to go to a trick’s home, preferring ‘in calls’ at his tiny apartment. In this case, the money was always worth the time. This trick would arrange a meeting downtown and then bring him back to the large house. Glancing around the room, the young man continued to note how expensive everything looked. The place was obviously taken care of by a staff, or a trophy wife. Many of his best clients were married men of means who would always live buried deep inside the closet.
A trim middle aged man walked in from the master bathroom wearing a robe. Bringing a fold of bills from the pocket, he handed them down to the younger man who was still in bed. Smiling from his nest in the pillows, the ‘for hire’ leaned up to accept the money. The still grinning client was proof that he had done his job well.
Two weeks earlier the prominent hair stylist and owner of Turner’s salon had a long late night make-out session with the same young hustler. “Wow, that kiss is like your superpower,” Aaron told the young man with a grin after the first hot meeting of their lips. “I’m all weak in the knees!” Cody had just laughed as they went at it again on a dark banquet on the bar’s second level.
Aaron knew how Cody made his living. Everyone knew. The stylist was not a client, but he liked his guys the way he liked his salad greens – a little wild. The short, hot fling had not come to equal love for either of them, but Aaron had liked Cody a lot. Hearing that the young hustler had been booked on murder charges for killing a senator was hard to believe. Powerful men often held powerful secrets, but even if the senator had hired Cody, Aaron could not imagine the young man killing anyone.
The entire salon went quiet as two handsome officers entered and were led to the back where the senator’s former wife (Babs) sat. Aaron, scissors in hand, was behind her. Missy and Franny, two well known socialites who had watched the handsome young officers enter the salon along with everyone else, cut looks at each other while brushing away salon attendants who were trying in vain to get the women to return to their stylist’s stations. It would have taken an avalanche bomb squad to unseat the pair from their front row perch to the drama playing out in Turner’s that rainy afternoon.
“How did you know I was here?” Babs flirted with Detective Matt Stone as she perched herself on the edge of the desk, folding a long, toned leg behind the other one. Aaron was thankful that she didn’t reach up and unclasp the top button of her blouse as she ate the hot blond Officer Stone with her eyes as if he were made of sugar and whipped cream.
“We appreciate the use of your office, Mr. Turner. Could we have a few moments alone with Mrs. Hickman?” Matt asked. Despite the age difference, the young officer appreciated the well preserved cougar in front of him.
“Of course,” said Aaron, who had nearly been panting with lust at the sight of the other detective, sexy Eli Young. The uniform on the hot officer was icing on the cake, as far as Aaron was concerned.
“Do you know Cody Patterson?” the detective asked.
“Yes. Not well, but I know him.”
Eli traded a knowing glance with his partner, and then turning to Aaron he said, “Perhaps we should speak somewhere else, Mr. Turner.”
“Let’s go to the storage room,” Aaron answered as if he had been planning to couple up with the man he just met. In his mind he had already turned down the lights, folded back the sheets, and shot the cork off of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot 1996. Aaron led Eli to the small storage room, stepping aside to allow the officer entry. The stylist had to physically restrain himself from reaching over and stroking the smooth dark skin of Eli’s cheek as the officer began to question him.
“Thursday at Ten” by James Brock, is a murder mystery packed with zany hair stylists, over-the-top drag queens, shallow socialites, sexy detectives, too many suspects to mention, and is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Kobo, All Romance ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Available in print from Amazon.
“You’re invited to a murder,” the invitation read. Dennis immediately calls 1-800-2 DIE FOR to confirm his acceptance of a weekend in the Poconos, a gift from his friend, Jason. He smiles at his excitement about the affair. Cast in the role of handyman for the weekend, he is certain that he can find something in every cabin in need of a little ‘maintenance.’ The murder mystery weekend is an all gay event that wouldn’t be complete without a few pesky drag queens thrown into the mix of singles and couples. Everything is all fun and games, until the night of the murder when a real murder occurs, making everyone in attendance a suspect.
A limousine was waiting in front of Dennis’ apartment at exactly six o’clock on Friday evening. He climbed into the spacious back as the driver informed him of the options for pleasure available to him – caviar, champagne, television, oysters on the half-shell, and seafood salad. There was another passenger to be picked up before they headed to the resort where the weekend’s game would begin. They traveled north and then turned east to a little hamlet called Holly.
The driver assisted a young man of about twenty-two years of age with his luggage. For only a weekend stay, Dennis thought that four suitcases was a little much. When he entered the rear of the limo, he took a seat across from Dennis, giving him an ample view of his fellow passenger. He was on the effeminate side, with shoulder-length red hair. He believed in enhancing his looks with a layer of make-up, mascara, and eye liner.
“I’ve never been in a limousine before, so I might as well avail myself of everything here.” He took a bottle of champagne, opened it, and poured himself a glass of bubbly. “Name is Billie. That’s spelled with an “i-e” and no “y.”
Dennis hated drag queens. “My name is Dennis. Nothing fancy about the spelling.”
“Well, hi, Dennis. Join me in some bubbly?”
“Might as well.”
A little sissy-type giggle escaped Billie’s throat.
“Well, Dennis, here’s to you. May we both survive the weekend!” Billie raised his glass in a toast. Dennis thought, The guy may be young and femme, but at least he’s got some style. Billie draped his left leg over his right knee and leaned back as the limousine turned onto the highway.
The chauffeur’s voice came over the intercom system. “Gentlemen, I have been instructed to arrive at the lodge at exactly seven-thirty. We have about forty-five minutes of driving ahead of us, so if you need me for anything, just push the intercom button on the left door. Relax and enjoy yourselves as well as the ride.”
Forty-five minutes trapped with a queen. Well, it could be worse, Dennis thought. It could be an hour.
Dennis asked, “What do you want to do now?”
“I’ve never done it in a limousine. You ever had sex in a limo before?”
“No, I can’t honestly say that I have.”
“Well, do you want to? And yes, I’m usually this direct.”
“Sometime before breakfast, one of you will be killed. It is up to the rest of you to unmask the murderer before Sunday noon. Remember that everyone on the premises is a suspect. Catch the culprit…if you can. Good luck. All clues have been planted. It is up to you to discern and evaluate them. And one word of warning, accept nothing and no one at face value. You all have assigned roles to play. Have fun and remember that anything, and I mean anything, goes!”
Jason thought that maybe he could have fun in bed with his ‘wife’ once he realized it was the young man now in full drag who had arrived with Dennis. After all, there were roles to be performed and the young man playing his wife was definitely sexually alluring once he looked past the make-up and the dress. Billie also liked the feeling of Jason’s hand on his nylon-encased thigh.
As Jason left with Billie, his ‘wife’ for the weekend, he gave Dennis a wink. Dennis turned to Carlo, “He’s going to have a good time tonight. Wish I had a video camera in their room.”
Carlo laughed. “Yeah, I’d say that one is going to learn what ‘wifely duty’ means before the night is over.” Carlo rounded the end of the bar and pressed his lips tightly against Dennis’ lips in a fervent kiss.
Dennis inquired, “Your cabin or mine? A bed is better than here on the floor.”
“Invitation to a Murder,” a deviously sexy murder mystery novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, Google, Apple, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
“Rainbow Shorts” is a wild ride of gay erotica and erotic romance. With guys who love to role-play, men who will do anything as long as the camera is rolling, a pizza shop that gets a little too hot, a trucker in a bit of a jam, a card party that gets out of hand, a very special fraternity with a long waiting list, a tropical twosome, a dandy dancer, a doctor who knows how to please, and so much more, this hot anthology will satisfy the most wicked desires and the heartiest appetites.
When Danny first laid eyes on him, it was pure unadulterated lust. He had to sample the wares of the young man’s aura of sexual masculinity. His long ebony hair was so fine that it flowed with the breeze smoothly, like water in a cascading stream. Full lips cried to be tasted, long lashed eyes screamed to be studied close up, and velvety skin shouted for caressing. Long lanky legs extended from the cutoff jeans as the young man aimlessly seemed to wander the paths of the theme park, sometimes mingling with the throngs of people, and sometimes standing solo in an open space deciding where to go next. Danny, the vacationer, had no set agenda for the day, and although there were many things to do in the park, he had found the objective. He wasn’t sure exactly which physical feature of the man excited his desires the most, but he subconsciously realized it was the young man’s skin coloring which he learned later was the result of Native American blending with Hawaiian.
Friendly smiles were exchanged with a head nodding. Contact had been made.
“You here alone?” the young man asked.
The fact that the young man had broken the ice first surprised Danny. Usually he was the aggressor, and the young man had caught him off guard. “Why, er, yes.”
“Me too. Mind a buddy for a while? My name is Keanu.”
He extended an open hand which was quickly grasped. “I’m Danny.”
“Well, Danny, what should we do first? I’ve been dying to ride the roller coasters.”
“Really? I love roller coasters. I’ve ridden some of the best in North America.”
They had found a common topic, and after a shared coaster ride, Danny turned to Keanu. “I’m staying at the Contemporary Resort, if you’re interested,” said Danny. “It could be a ride no one else in the park gets today.”
“Fine with me. I have no deadline,” Keanu said. They quickly boarded the monorail and were headed to the hotel for some non-family oriented fun.
The minute they got inside Danny’s room, lips found lips, bodies found the bed, and psyches found paradise. They had barely closed the door when Keanu wrapped his arms around Danny and smiled saying, “I love making it with a guy a few years older than me.” He looked at Danny with a devious stare. “But enough talking for now,” he said.
Hands found buttons and shirts were discarded, and Keanu attacked Danny’s neck with the vengeance of a vampire. He led him to the bed, gradually working his way down to paradise. For Danny it was pure pleasure. He released a muffled moan of pleasure, and Keanu knew he had the unassuming vacationer right where he wanted him.
“You really want me, don’t you?”
“What if I told you it’s a hundred bucks?”
Suddenly the absolute reality hit Danny. “You’re a hustler! I thought you were kidding me about the cash.”
“You’ve wanted me from the first moment you saw me in the park. Well, you’ve got me if you want me.”
Danny was stunned. “You reeled me in like the dumbest fish in the lake.”
“I sure did. I gotta make money. If it wasn’t you, it would have been some other guy this afternoon and there will probably be one more this evening. He’ll be just like you. He’ll follow me through the park, check me out, strike up a conversation, and do anything to get me alone with him, just like you did. Why do you think I said I like going with older men. Younger guys don’t have my kind of cash – couldn’t afford me.”
“I got the looks, and I got the talent. I just put it all to work for me, and it sure beats a desk job.”
Keanu knew exactly how to keep the sex urge going while he was negotiating the price, and it was definitely working with Danny.
“Rainbow Shorts,” an anthology of gay erotica by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Google, Kobo, and Apple. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
When it comes to emotional entanglements, Hunter Dixon is a runner. Someone would be out the door the minute the ‘LOVE’ word was spoken. ‘Don’t go building a dream castle for the two of us, and don’t go putting me on a pedestal; I’m not that much of a paragon of virtue,’ he would say. A killer in the world of high dollar real estate, his looks and personality keep his bank account full and his bed frequently populated. When he meets billionaire entrepreneur, Beauregard Medar, and his gorgeous limo driver, Patrick, Hunter’s world is turned upside down. Never before has he been the object of a loving male, and he rather enjoys the attention, but the truth is stranger than fiction, or so they say, and Hunter’s truth may prove to be his biggest obstacle.
Thursdays were Hunter’s night at the gym. That was where he met Jimmy, the picture of pure eroticism with short blond hair, blue eyes, unblemished complexion, untied white sneaks, white socks, white chest protector properly fastened to protect the heart area but leaving the young man’s right nipple exposed, and pants and jock on the floor by his feet. Hunter was the only one in the locker room drying off from his after-workout shower when Jimmy entered. “One strange thing about sneakers. They feel so good on the feet when you first put them on and tie them up tight and they feel so good when you sit down and untie them later,” he said as he straddled the bench removing them.
Not one to be rude, Hunter replied, “That’s for sure.”
“Yep, and the same thing can be said for the jock. Feels real good when you first put it on and snug things up. Feels even better to me, though, when I take it off and let things hang loose.”
Hunter again agreed. “You can say that again.” He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist.
Jimmy noticed the effect he was having on Hunter and decided to play the cruising game to the hilt. He picked up his epee and began stroking it. “The one thing about fencing,” he continued, “is you have to be sure your weapon is protected with a good rubber tip. Don’t you agree?”
Hunter said “yes” wondering if this was leading somewhere or just idle bantering.
“Always got to protect the tips of weapons or you could kill someone or have someone kill you unwittingly. Me – I always protect my tip.” He licked his lips. “What about you? You protect your weapon?”
“Always, when I’m using it.”
“How about right now? It looks to me like you want to use it.”
Jimmy was right. Hunter did want to use it, and at the right time he would worship the man in his own erotic way, but for now he was following Jimmy’s lead, even though he was secretly managing his own seduction.
As Hunter sat in his cubicle tweaking sales descriptions for the umpteenth time, the door to the office opened, letting in the muggy August heat. “Anybody here gay,” bellowed a voice from a tall, white-goateed man with a balding head and a walking stick.
“I am,” said Hunter rising from his desk. “My name is Hunter Dixon. How may I help you?”
“You’re man enough to admit it. Glad to see it. No one in any other agency I’ve visited today would openly admit it. My name is Beauregard Medar. My friends call me Beau. You may call me Mr. Medar.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Medar. How can I be of assistance?”
“I need a new home in the area.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something fashionable, with well-landscaped gardens, fifteen to twenty rooms for overnight business guests and parties, an indoor pool, perhaps a ballroom or a huge dining room, maybe a portico, lots of parking, and under two million.”
“Only one property comes to mind. There’s a circular driveway, a former carriage house with an upstairs apartment, a pond, a stone gazebo, and a barn. The place has eighteen rooms, including a garden room, nearly all glass on three sides, and there are three separate fireplaces for cozy winter nights.”
On the way to the property, Hunter immediately noticed the limo driver. There was something about the man in his uniform that he found alluring. He had no exact idea why. He had made it before with people in uniforms – servicemen, medics, school crossing guards, dollar store clerks, a nurse in the hospital supply closet, and a rent-a-cop. But Patrick in his uniform excited Hunter unlike the others. Patrick looked hot, and Hunter, trying to imagine the two of them together, was coming up with numerous scenarios. He had found that closeted men were often the hottest of bedfellows. They really got into it because it happened so rarely. Scanning Patrick more closely, Hunter detected underneath the taut white shirt a well-muscled chest and abdomen, and biceps that stretched the material to the utmost. It was so form-fitting that he could see through the material that the main vein in each upper arm was popped. That vein, for some unknown reason, was a major turn-on for Hunter. He was willing to bet that Patrick had grown up on a farm doing chores.
“The Epiphany of Hunter Dixon”, an erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Google, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, Apple, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
NASTIES – it gives the hint of something horrible and yet they really are something quite beautiful. At the same time, the inverse is just as real. What is quite beautiful can end up being horrible.
The death of a parent is hard on the soul, but it is an expected grief. The death of a child is ten times harder. The ashes I carried were the child to whom I gave the gift of life. Mature children should bury old parents and not the reverse. It goes against the laws of natural order. It makes no difference whether the child is two months old or thirty-four years. The pain and sorrow that burden my spirit are unfathomable, and having buried four parents and two children, I know there is no comparison on the depth of sorrow. My thoughts on the ride home from the cemetery dealt mainly with whether I should have known it would happen. What could I have done differently that would have changed this outcome? In my mind, I traced his entire life or at least the part where I was most involved with it.
Blaise always identified more strongly with males from as early as he could recall. His teen idols were the singers Fabian, Dion, Frankie Avalon, and Paul Anka. Connie Francis did nothing for him. Neither did Annette, even when she was a Mouseketeer. As a child, the only Mouseketeers that drew his attention were Bobby and Tommy.
In college, Blaise was assigned to off-campus housing with two other guys. Each had his own bedroom, and pretty much went their separate ways. Blaise’s way was finding and making friends with the swishiest guys he could find and getting them into bed. That was how he met Doug. He was as well built as Blaise, pretty straight acting, with a chest covered in sand-colored hair that Blaise loved to caress. It didn’t take long for some of the guys to figure out that they were more than roommates, though, and the hassling began, but this time Blaise fought back. Judo classes paid off and the warning went out not to mess with him, at least not one on one. Of course, there were religious student groups that were anti-homosexual and they had rallies and posted signs on bulletin boards advising that homosexuals should be shunned by God-fearing souls.
Doug and Blaise were together for over four years, and then Blaise came home early one day and there was Doug, in bed with a blond beach bum-type hitchhiker. Well, that blond was dressed and out the door in under five minutes, and Doug was out the next day. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, and you don’t pull Blaise’s chain. After the breakup, Blaise learned that Doug had cheated on him from day two and deceived him about his fidelity from day three. He was a regular denizen of adult bookstores and the bus terminal men’s room. If there was a tearoom within twenty-five miles, he knew about it from personal visits. The only thing amazing about the relationship was that he never contracted or gave Blaise a sexual disease.
It was evident that Blaise was not destined to be single. In a span of a few years, Scotty, then Marty, then Damian, and then Dan became a part of the family get-togethers. We liked all of them except Marty. He seemed to be a domineering personality, and we were rather relieved when the two of them split up. With Damian, both men seemed happy. They were even planning to build a house together. It probably would have been a lasting relationship if Damian’s job had not transferred him to the West Coast.
But life goes on, and Blaise met Dan Stone, a fellow teacher. Dan appeared the first day dressed to do the dirty work of arranging the room, lugging textbooks from storage, and creating initial day bulletin boards. He was wearing filthy Reeboks, old faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and he had no wedding band, not that Blaise checked for that on every male he met – only the hot ones.
From the moment they met, Blaise was truly happy again. The two educators enjoyed going to art galleries, theatre, and concerts together. When Blaise directed the high school play, Dan pitched in building the set and helping with the specialized make-up. They were a team, a true partnership in everything, total cooperation and commitment to each other.
It was just after the beginning of the following year when Dan began to complain about severe headaches and that he was getting tired easily. That was the beginning of something no one expected.
“Life Among the Nasties”, a heartfelt story of love, bullying and forgiveness, by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Google, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, and Coffeetime Romance.
With green eyes peering out from beneath brunette hair, muscular arms from hours in the swimming pool, broad powerful shoulders, a well-defined muscled chest tapering to a narrow waist accentuated by ribbed abdominal muscles, and long powerful thighs, Kerry has the good looks and body to attract any man or woman. Hanging out in the hot San Diego sun one day, it isn’t long before a man offers him a ride to the beach, and his life is changed forever.
It was almost 9:00 when they arrived at John’s apartment. The setting sun and the brilliant red sky were being completely engulfed in darkness as they mounted the staircase that led down the outside walkway to Apartment 3C. John unlocked the door and motioned Kerry inside.
Kerry’s eyes quickly wandered over everything. It was a spacious apartment, spartanly decorated. The living room had a two-piece sectional sofa with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, a 25-gallon fish tank and a La-Z Boy recliner in the far corner, and topping it off were a few pictures of an erotic nature hung on the walls. Off to the left was a small walk-in kitchen with an eating island and three stools thrusting out in the center like a phallic symbol.
A small doorway led to what obviously was the bathroom, and straight ahead was the bedroom. Matching drab brown curtains covered the windows, and the place reeked of simple unadorned masculinity. No frills, no quasi-artistic decorations, just the basics.
“Planning on staying the night?” asked John.
“If you’ll have me.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
Kerry suddenly realized that he knew very little about John. “I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, but I don’t know very much about you. What do you do?”
“I own a small company that does remodeling and home repairs. Keeps me pretty busy year round, but every so often I take a mental health day. Today was one of those days. I’ve lived here for the last two years since I split up with a lover. I hate the gay bar scene, and I prefer to do what I want to do. Is there anything else you would like to know?”
“You got anything to drink?”
“There’s Coke in the refrigerator. Help yourself. Glasses are in the cupboard to the right.”
John walked into the bedroom, stripped off his tank top and threw it into the corner. He turned on the stereo and sat down on the bed to untie his sneakers when Kerry came into the room.
Kerry set the drinks down on the nightstand and awkwardly sat down on the bed. He was unaccustomed to having sex in a bed. He was used to automobile backseats and unlit grassy spots. Beds were foreign. He was even more shocked to discover that he was seated on a waterbed as a wave swayed his body. He had never been on one before and he liked the feeling of it.
John dimmed the lights in the bedroom and crossed around to the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry. As I said, I promise to make this last all night.”
“Lucky Strokes”, a new erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and the Apple iBookstores. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
Following an over-the-top all gay tour of Europe, Paul settles into his career where he is given free rein to turn rundown properties into gold mines. Thinking outside of the box, he deviates from the norm a little and transforms a desolate place far from the beaten path into a gay resort. With a staff that includes two French hustlers he met in Rome, a blond haired blue eyed Nordic god as a bartender who knows all the right moves, as well as additional staff ready to serve in any capacity, a website where reservations are made at the simple click of a pine tree icon, not to mention the all important lover that Paul met in Europe, NEVADA PINES is born. The premier resort for a romantic weekend, a brief getaway for a night to enjoy the amenities, a discreet hook-up, or a menage with many possibilities, but always classy, NEVADA PINES welcomes you!!
I was approached by two men who asked if I would be so kind as to take their picture. They were both very good looking and while neither would ever be considered as a model for the cover of a physical fitness magazine, they had the most penetrating brown eyes and the longest eyelashes I had ever noticed. When I agreed, they handed me a camera and wrapped their arms around each other’s waist. I snapped but the flash didn’t fire. They quickly fixed the problem and resumed their pose. This time everything worked perfectly. We chatted briefly and I told them I was from California and here having a good time before starting work.
Evidently the term “having a good time” triggered something because they asked if they could be part of a good time.
“What do you mean?” I naively asked.
“Un ménage a trios,” said the one. I checked them out for a few minutes and felt that I would be totally safe, as I was much stronger than they, but I decided against it. Then I saw them pull the same camera routine on three other guys with no success. They were quite good at hustling. It was a unique ploy. As I sat there sipping my coffee, I got to thinking how erotic it would be having two guys at the same time.
Mustering up the rest of my forgotten French, I hollered, “Garcon, ici!”
They ignored me at first, until I pulled out my wallet. They sauntered over slowly, knowing the fish was on their hook. “Hotel Central,” I said.
“Wow” said the quiet one.
When we got to the hotel room, they wasted no time shedding their clothes, and then they began to undress me. It was like a synchronized water ballet the way they moved. When we were done and showered, and the finances taken care of, Philippe seemed eager to depart, but the quiet one refused to get dressed. He flopped back on the bed. “I want more,” Pierre responded in English for my benefit. I obliged. Philippe stood watching for a few minutes and then he came over, climbed on the bed and simply said, “No charge this time.”
Wednesday was the day. Bill was coming. I put clean sheets on the bed, knowing full well they would be destroyed by the next morning. I tidied up everything. I dusted, I vacuumed, I washed, I wiped, I scrubbed. And then it was off to the airport. We were at the terminal by 7:00 p.m. with an hour to wait, which turned into two hours since the plane was held up in Salt Lake City by a severe thunderstorm. I knew the travel gods were teasing me on purpose, increasing my frustration at waiting to see my beloved. But finally there he was – live and in person. I couldn’t wait to get my arms around him in a hug. Right there in the airport, he planted the biggest kiss he could on my lips, and it felt wonderful.
Bill might have been exhausted from eighteen hours of air travel, but he never showed it for a moment. He was as hot for me as I was for him. Barely was the hotel room door closed and a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the outside doorknob before the buttons on my shirt went flying across the room as he literally ripped my shirt open. It was pure animal lust between the two of us.
“Nevada Pines”, a new erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and the Apple iBookstores. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
I love her, but I also love him.
She’s everything to me.
He sets my world on fire.
It’s our dirty little secret, and it’s about to blow our record deal sky high.
I’m Tommy Blade, the Prince of Punk Rock, and this is our story.
Warning: This book is for mature audiences only.
Tommy Blade is a man with a secret. It’s a secret he only shares with one person, Jessi Blade – and the men he surrenders to in the bedroom. Jessi’s only condition to their tumultuous sex life is that the men are one night stands. But when Angel Garcia enters their life, it’s like a match to gasoline.
Mega-talented punk rock singer Angel Garcia, with his smoldering ebony eyes, tight leather pants and unstoppable stage presence, is a man who is used to getting what he wants. He has his eyes set on Tommy Blade as his new lead guitarist, and as his life partner.
Jessi Blade, sympathetic to her husband’s bisexual needs, loves him enough to share him, but she never counted on Angel Garcia to test the threshold of her marriage. He makes her life hell . . . and heaven. He’s her damnation and her salvation. She wants to hate him. She wants to despise him. But his charm and raw sex appeal are impossible to resist. Without warning, she finds herself falling in love with her husband’s gay lover.
At the height of it all, their punk rock band catapults to stardom.
Their lives are marred by secrecy, deception and sacrifice. Feelings of betrayal, backlash from the sensationalistic media and threats of blackmail send them down a hard road filled with tough decisions.
They aren’t your ordinary rock stars. They’re radical rock stars. And they have a big story to tell.
The faces changed since the last time he was there, but the intention was still the same. It wasn’t a place to socialize or partake in camaraderie or drop in for a drink on your way home. It was a meeting place for men interested in casual sex. The back room served as a shanty for a quick encounter. You could stop in, get your rocks off and be on your way in half an hour. It was a smorgasbord of testosterone, a buffet of muscle and beefcake.
Men flocked around him as soon as he walked through the door. They always did. A guy once told him that it was the mixture of his rugged jaw and strong upper body, offset by the innocence of his big blue eyes that made him so attractive. The ladies always said it was his long blond hair and the guitar.
“The Prince of Punk Rock”, by Jenna Galicki, is available in the Apple iBookstores, from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, Google Books, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
ASSIGNED TO KILL HIM; UNABLE TO RESIST HIM.
I still remember the day the world ended. The newspapers said the same thing. It’s remarkable how many times you hear something before it becomes completely indistinguishable from the truth. ‘The New England town of Tetra, New Hampshire and the Southern California city of Winchester Falls have been decimated due to a viral outbreak of an unidentified protean compound by a clandestine Thanatos terrorist cell known only as ‘The Agency’.’
I had come to Tetra in search of a man named Aristotle Lauder who may have been connected to the Winchester incident. It turns out I was wrong. Having been betrayed by the only man I thought I could trust, I managed to escape the horror.
No one could have imagined the series of events that would follow that horrible night.
Recent terrorist incidents are rumored to be the work of a clandestine group, and a human woman by the name of Eloise Huntington is trying desperately to learn the truth about them – the Thanatos.
A dark conspiracy begins this gripping novel as a powerful computer virus is uploaded to the GRID, the hub of the world’s electronic communications networks, virtually decimating communication across the globe. As the race begins to combat the powerful forces that conspired to bring human civilization to a standstill, Aristotle discovers a secret link to his past in the form of Byron Appleyard, who has been assigned to assassinate him. Falling for the enemy was not supposed to happen.
Isa Delcarmen walked out of the helicopter cabin into the dark stormy night, the cold air whipping at her narrow cheekbones. Behind her, Matthew Christopher was silent as he removed the seat-belt choked around his slim waist. It was almost dark here. The city below was bustling under an ocean of neon advertisements and shimmering street lights. Sports cars raced through the winding streets, their shrill honking only a quiet gasp all the way atop the towering skyscraper.
Three armed guards flanked them as the two visitors walked to the white door near the edge of the helipad. One of them shook Isa’s cool hand. She noticed he was shivering. It had been raining all day here, she heard the chopper pilot mumble. The scientists in front of them nervously typed in a code on a silver keypad to the right of the metallic door. A light on the panel turned green and the group was let inside, one at a time, as the door made an electronic whirring noise. Isa held her breath as the armed guard walked in front of her down the steps inside.
Matthew was silent behind her. His intense gaze peered around the bright white sterile walls of the corridor. He paid attention to everything, noting every detail, every crevice, and every scratch in the otherwise immaculate wall. He had on his fancy brand of aftershave–one that Isa had enjoyed for the duration of the flight despite its arguable toxicity and the even more dubious intention behind it. The smell had filled the tiny helicopter cabin. The morose man had been quiet though for almost the entire flight, which made her anxious. His variable unpredictability was a liability, and nothing could go wrong now. Nothing at all.
Aristotle was sitting erect in a chair as Byron walked in not five minutes after him. It was dark in the room. Byron didn’t make any noise. He watched Aristotle carefully. His feet were still on the hardwood floor beneath him. Dust gently blew across the creaking floorboards as he walked inside.
“Did you know me before?” Aristotle asked.
Byron was silent.
Aristotle continued in a wavering, drunk voice, “You knew who I was. I’ve seen you before. I’ve dreamed about you.” Aristotle spoke as he was putting the pieces together. His eyes flashed excitedly. “You knew I was one of them. You are too.” There were empty whiskey bottles at his feet. He walked over and leaned in to kiss Byron. Byron pushed him away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aristotle,” Byron murmured quietly.
“You’re-you’re a liar. You’ve known who I was since last year. You’ve been following me, stalking me!” Aristotle shouted. He stood up and walked towards Byron in the dark. The floorboards creaked below him. Dust kicked up below him. Byron’s features were illuminated by the new angle of the light. They were different somehow, twisted by some unseen malign presence in the room. “You did this to me,” Aristotle barked as he grabbed Byron’s face. His eyes were glowing. They were yellow like a reptile’s.
Aristotle stood over him and sneered at him. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. “Why am I like this? Why is this happening to me?”
“What?” Byron asked weakly.
“Becoming this! Becoming this–this thing!” he roared.
“Aristotle: FORTUNE”, science fiction by J.J. Dunford, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Google Play, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.