We’re thrilled to host Amelia C. Gormley with the first chapter of The Houseboy: Initiation, her story in Unconditional Surrender. Don’t forget to scroll to the end to enter the tour contest. To travel to other tour stops, click on the Tour Banner.
When I stumbled upon a post in Facebook m/m romance circles asking for authors to contribute to a military-men themed m/m bundle, I jumped at the opportunity. Who wouldn’t gleefully embrace the chance to keep company with such an amazing group of authors?
It also gave me a chance to brush off a small bit of erotica I’d started writing quite a while back and had never found an appropriate venue for. Sometimes it embarrasses me, because I don’t often go to the pure erotica place. Usually my stories have something else going on within them. But sometimes a bit of PWP can be fun, and I hadn’t written something to that effect in quite a while. And since several of the other authors writing for the bundle have so beautifully addressed some of the emotional and psychological journeys that can come with serving one’s country, I was free to step in with a little bit of light-hearted smut.
I’m sharing the first chapter here. I hope you all enjoy.
Fowler Vale wasn’t an attractive man, at least not at first look. Bryce’s fantasies had always been filled with guys his own age, or maybe only a little older. Lean, fit, cover-model gorgeous.
Vale was huge and rugged, with a nose that looked like it’d been broken a few times and a half-bald, half-shaved head. He was decked out in leather and he looked like he belonged on the back of a Harley Davidson leading a band of bikers to some sleazy hideout bar on a dusty California highway.
Bryce wasn’t exactly in a position to be critical, though. In the three weeks since he’d been caught in the janitors’ closet with Ham Berkel’s hand down his pants, he had well and truly fallen from grace. He’d bolted from his father’s apparent intention to beat him to death, only to wind up stopping on a bench outside a bar where two drunks decided to finish the job Mr. Better-Dead-Than-Queer had started. The interference of a kindly—and large—stranger had saved him, and that guy had called Harry, who had let Bryce stay with him since then. But, he said, he didn’t have the space, money, or temperament to put Bryce up long-term. At eighteen, he was too old for the foster system, and shelters could get full and weren’t always safe. So Harry had begun investigating “other arrangements” and now here they were.
Vale was Harry’s potential solution to Bryce’s “problem.” His only hope of salvaging the bright future he’d taken for granted. The chance to go to college and avoid scraping by at minimum wage for the rest of his life. Up until that point, all the prospective—Bryce didn’t even know what to call them. Employers? Hosts? Sugar-Daddies?—had been clean-cut, obviously wealthy, educated men. Vale didn’t look like the type of man who had the money to support a houseboy.
“I’d recommend you wipe that look off your face, kid,” Harry murmured as Bryce watched Vale cross the bar. “Books and covers. All that shit. Of all the guys I’ve checked up on, this one got the best recommendations. Found him through the leather community. He’ll probably want a boy who’s submissive. When he gets here, be courteous. Defer to him, show respect. Offer to get him a beer. Wait on him a little. Call him sir.”
Bryce nodded grimly and came to his feet when Vale reached the table. Jesus, he was enormous. Bryce was five-foot-ten, and lean. Vale towered over him by a good six inches, and probably weighed double what Bryce did. It didn’t look like fat, either, or if it was, there wasn’t much of it and it was underlaid by a layer of heavy muscle.
He looked…powerful. An image flashed in Bryce’s mind, unbidden, of what a brute like that could do to a guy like Bryce in bed and he had to grab the table to keep his knees from buckling.
It wasn’t entirely from fear.
“You’re Bryce?” His voice was a deep rumble, even when he was speaking normally. He sounded like he’d smoked two packs a day for the last twenty or thirty years. Bryce guessed his age to be in his late forties or early fifties, though it was possible that the facial hair made him seem older than he was.
“Yeah. Um, yes. Can I get you a beer, Mr. Vale?” Harry cleared his throat loudly. “Um, sir.”
Vale chuckled. “You got the I.D. to get me a beer?”
“Huh? Oh!” Bryce felt his face ignite. He slid an accusing glance at Harry, who had the grace to appear sheepish. “No, I guess not.”
“Then have a seat.” He lifted a hand and a waiter appeared as if conjured out of thin air, then scurried off to bring back two beers and a cola. Bryce slid back into the booth, his face still aflame. “Relax. I don’t rip the heads off small animals and eat twinks for breakfast. Well, not unless they want me to.”
Bryce ducked his head, wondering if it was possible to get sunburn from blushing for too long.
Harry seemed to find the whole situation hilarious and laughed loudly. “Thanks for coming out to meet us. I’ve heard good things about you from Tod and Marv. Did they explain Bryce’s situation to you?”
Bryce squirmed at being spoken of in the third person, but neither Harry nor Vale seemed inclined to include him in their discussion.
“He’s looking for room and board, and help with tuition.” Vale sipped his beer as the ice melted in Bryce’s unacknowledged cola. Bryce ran his finger through the condensation on the outside of the glass, watching the beads meld together into streams as he listened. “He wants to go to Brown?”
“Yep,” Harry said briskly, taking a long swig of his own beer. “Seems a damn shame to let that acceptance go to waste when he earned it. He’s willing to do loans if he has to, he just might need help getting them.”
“I can cover it, if he works out.” Vale made the offer so easily that Bryce did a double-take. “Here’s what I propose. We give it a trial run, until August. That’ll leave enough time to drop his classes without owing anything if it doesn’t pan out. If it does, I’ll cover his expenses until graduation, as long as it continues to work for both of us.”
Harry gave an admiring whistle. “What is it you’re looking for from him?”
“Keep my house clean, run my errands, do the cooking, shopping, and laundry. You know how to do any of that, Bryce?”
He nodded carefully. “I can cook simple stuff, sure. My mom taught me.”
“Good.” Vale turned his attention back to Harry. “He’ll help me host when I have friends over. Accompany me to parties or wherever when I want him to. Other than that, his life’s his own. He’ll have a room in the basement with plenty of privacy if he wants to have company, though he’ll be responsible for making sure they treat my house and property with respect. As long as his work’s done and his grades are good, he can go out whenever he pleases.” Bryce licked his lips and prepared himself for the mortification of asking the obvious question, but Vale beat him to the punch, setting his pint glass down with a solid thunk. “I don’t expect fucking to be part of the bargain.”
Bryce’s head shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. The man was offering to pay over $50,000 a year plus room and board for a live-in housekeeper and companion and he didn’t even expect sex?
Vale caught his astonished look and smirked. “Sorry, Bryce. I prefer my fucks a little older and a lot more savvy.”
“Why do it?” Vale shrugged. “Does it matter? Maybe I’m just a big ol’ do-gooder under all this leather. Maybe someone saved my ass once and I’ve decided to pass it along. Maybe I just like making blushing twinks ask questions.”
Harry laughed again and slapped Bryce on the shoulder. “You’re not gonna get a better offer, kid.”
Bryce grunted at the rough clout, but his eyes never ventured from Vale’s. Surely there had to be a catch.
“If you’d like to come check out the place, inspect the situation, you’d be welcome.” Vale was talking to Harry again, and it took Bryce a moment to realize why.
He was treating Harry like he was Bryce’s guardian. The offer of an inspection was to appease any safety concerns.
Bryce bowed his head, coming to terms with the fact that he was almost certainly going to have to accept this offer. Harry was right. He wouldn’t get a better one. Things could be so much worse. He could be on the street right now, scavenging for food in garbage cans or selling himself for the cost of a value meal and a half-hour in a warm car. He could be beaten or raped in a shelter. Compared to the very plausible worst-case scenario, this was a fairytale come true, if an unconventional one. His reluctance came only from the fact that this whole idea of basically indenturing himself was foreign and scary. A few weeks hadn’t been enough allow him to wrap his head around it.
He’d be putting himself at Vale’s mercy. There was nothing to keep the man from reneging on his word once Harry was gone. It was a gamble. But it was either this or live hand-to-mouth for the rest of his life.
Drawing a deep breath, Bryce set his jaw and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Amelia C. Gormley may seem like anyone else. But the truth is she sings in the shower, dances doing laundry, and writes blisteringly hot m/m erotic romance while her son is at school. When she’s not writing in her Pacific Northwest home, Amelia single-handedly juggles her husband, her son, their home, and the obstacles of life by turning into an everyday superhero. And that, she supposes, is just like anyone else.
Her self-published novel-in-three-parts, Impulse (Inertia, Book One; Acceleration, Book Two; and Velocity, Book Three) can be found at most major ebook retailers, and be sure to check http://RiptidePublishing.com for her latest releases, including her Highland historical, The Laird’s Forbidden Lover, the The Professor’s Rule series of erotic novelettes (co-written with Heidi Belleau), her post-apocalyptic romance, Strain, new-adult coming-of-age tale, Saugatuck Summer, and her upcoming whodunit murder mystery, Player vs. Player.
Today we’re thrilled to welcome guest author K D Grace, on tour for the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy. If you haven’t tasted these stories already, you won’t want to miss them! Don’t forget to enter her giveaway – and click on the Tour Banner to travel to her other tour stops for more chances to enter!
Paranormal Heroes and Villains and Why We Love ‘em
Giveaway: And to help me celebrate the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy, I’m giving away a $50/£30 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter at the bottom of the post!
First let me say what a pleasure it is to be back at your place, Adriana. Thanks for allowing me to celebrate the relaunch of the Lakeland Witches Trilogy with you.
Today I want to share with you one of the great contradictions that makes good paranormal work for me. Paranormal is one of those lovely genre in which I get to be almost as afraid of the hero as I am of the villain. And I get to be almost as attracted to the villain as I am the hero. Oh the angst! I honestly can’t think that anyone could really fall for a vampire or a werewolf or a ghost or a powerful witch, or any other paranormal hero/heroine without being, at the same time, terrified. In fact just the right combination of fear and attraction is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs EVER! A part of what makes good paranormal work for me is knowing that the hero or heroine could easily turn and destroy the very thing he or she loves and longs to possess. In fact, more often than not, the hero is really an antihero, striving to be greater than his nature, and the more difficult the struggle, the more endearing I find him to be.
In fact, there are times when the only separation between the hero and the villain is how willing they are to struggle to rise above their own flaws. Of course that struggle to rise above flaws is nothing but the age-old human struggle magnified and highlighted for the sake of the story. Few of us literally rip people’s throats out when we’re having a bad day, and most of us would be horrified if the love of our life did that before morning coffee. That’s what raises the level of the tension and the excitement in a good paranormal story for me. The lover is not safe, and yet that danger makes the sex all the hotter and the angst all the angstier. It’s the whole total lack of safety that makes paranormal romance so stimulating in those larger than life ways that aren’t possible in ordinary romance. The whole sexy, super-heated, blow-your-mind purpose of good paranormal erotica is to make totally dangerous sex and plunging-off-a -cliff romance a vicarious possibility for the reader. Oh yeah!
I remember seeing Frank Langella’s Dracula back in the day and thinking, as I panted my way through the horribly delicious scene in which Dracula seduces Lucy, that even with the terrible truth of what the end result of his sexy attentiveness to her will be, who could possibly have refused, even if they hadn’t been under his thrall? He was a gentleman, he was charming and mysterious, he was hypnotic, he was gorgeous, he was terrifying. And I wanted him!
That’s the feel I tried to create in The Lakeland Witches Trilogy. The witches aren’t safe. The Elemental Coven’s high priestess, Tara Stone, is beautiful and dangerous, and she’s a killer. Her high priest, Anderson, is a ghost who can walk among the living and in the flesh. He’s a ghost who is also dangerous and sexy as hell and openly admits that he knows how to ‘hide the bodies so they’ll never be found.’ And Deacon the villain, is a demon, whose power is lust, whose sensuality is much worse than deadly.
I love the paranormal contrast of light and darkness and the way the two are blended. After all there’s only awareness of one in the presence of the other. I think the balance of fear and lust and the highlighting of flaws through otherness, done well, is the making of a good paranormal romance. Conflict is the main ingredient of any good story, and when a story is paranormal, there is, by the nature of the beast, or the witchJ more room for more conflict. And that’s a big part of the fun. Wanting what we know is very bad for us is always a part of the fun. And seeing the characters in a paranormal novel get exactly that, exactly the thing that both attracts them and terrifies them is what makes paranormal so outrageously hot.
The whole Lakeland Witches Trilogy centers around a really wonderfully wicked villain, Deacon, who as I said, also happens to be a demon. I’d like to share with you a little encounter between Deacon and Tara Stone, the high priestess and leader of the Elemental Coven, because, really, how could I not want my readers to experience the scary, super-heated sizzle when dangerous villain meets dangerous heroine? Enjoy and don’t forget to comment for the giveaway!
Giveaway: And to help me celebrate the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy, I’m giving away a $50/£30 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter at the bottom of the post!
AAAAAND! For more celebration of the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy, be sure to check out Things that Go Hump in the Night on my blog for more paranormal fun and giveaways. Going on all through October!
Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.
Elemental Fire Excerpt:
She tossed aside the book she’d been perusing and carefully opened one of her mother’s books of shadows, the older of the two.
Fire draweth a demon as doth no other element. It is the element of a demon’s strength, it is the key ingredient to a demon’s magic. And all things that have at the heart of their existence heat and fire and flame and the passion and the temperament thereof shall a demon draw upon and revel therein. Though some have speculated such, it hath not been proved that a demon may also draw upon water or air or earth, nor is there recorded in the archives of the elders any such encounter with any demon other than what hath drawn up strength to be made manifest through the element of fire.
Her mother had taught her this when she was still a child, even before Deacon tore their world a part. Tara racked her brain. Had she ever heard of any demon that wasn’t a fire demon? Come to think of it, had she ever heard of any other demon besides Deacon? Certainly in her very long life she had never encountered another, for which she was thankful. The thought of more like Deacon wreaking havoc and destroying people’s lives made her feel queasy. Could the world even contain another such demon and survive? How could it be that she had spent her whole life doing battle with Deacon and had never really given any thought to the possibility of others like him? But having said that, if there were others like him, they bore her no ill will that she knew of, and she would definitely know about it if they did. So if it were a demon that Cassandra and Marie and Tim confronted in the Ether, why was it there? What did it want? And dear Goddess, grant that it bore Anderson no ill will. She was so caught up in the elegant twists and turns of her mother’s script and her own speculations that she hadn’t noticed the encroaching chill in the room; she hadn’t noticed the flame that danced in the grate had turned an icy shade of blue. And how could she not have noticed his breath raising goose flesh along the nape of her neck?
‘Deacon,’ she whispered, feeling her stomach drop. She was careful to keep her words firm and even. ‘What are you doing here?’
His breath seemed slightly accelerated, and his chuckle seemed unusually warm in the chill. ‘Can I not visit you, my love for the simple pleasure of your company?’ He drew a large warm hand along her shoulder and up her nape where her pulse hammered a sharp staccato she couldn’t quite control. Then with his fingers he traced a path upward along the side of her face. The memory of him touching Fiori in just the same way only seconds before her death flashed through Tara’s head, and she twisted away from his touch.
He stood behind her, just out of her field of vision, but she felt his breath humid and heavy against the top of her head. ‘Do you not yet see and understand, my dearest Tara?’ He moved to sit on the edge of her desk, looking down at her with eyes that were dark chasms. ‘You and I shall out-live all of the others.’ He made an open-armed, expansive gesture around the room. ‘Our rage, our anger, our desire for power and revenge shall keep us forever young and virile long after this rag-tag band you’ve assembled here at Elemental Cottage has perished.’
He took her hand in his and raised it to lips that were impossibly soft and warm against her knuckles. ‘Do you think I do not hear the petitions of your nightmares? Do you think I do not understand your very human desire for an end to all of this banality? But of course I shall not destroy you, my beauty. It’s your power, your heart, your lust for which I live. Have you not yet reasoned this out, my darling?’
Tara jerked upright in her chair, forcing her way into the Waking World, heart racing, sweat beading between her breasts. There was a soft knock on the door and Sky stuck her head in.
‘Cassandra’s here with Marie and Tim. Firoi’s served lunch.’ She stepped inside. ‘Tara? Are you alright?’
‘Fine.’ Tara stood and tugged her cardi tightly around her. ‘Fine. Just a bit unsettled by everything that’s been going on, that’s all. Come on. Let’s not keep Fiori waiting. You know how tetchy she gets when we’re late to the table.’
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
Find K D Here:
Welcome to My Sexy Saturday! Halloween is almost here ~ Martha Richards is about to be visited by a pair of very sexy ghosts!
She needed to stay warm in the winter, and she wasn’t about to flee back to civilization any time soon. It had taken all her gumption and most of her inheritance to buy Purgatory Point; she wasn’t about to give up because of a chill in the air.
That decided, she closed her eyes and welcomed the drifting sensations of dozing.
He’d have strong hands. She’d have soft hands. Dan’s fingers. Natalie’s fingers. As if from a distance, Martha recognized her own soft moans. Her loins ached. It was an old ache, yet a familiar ache.
Her nipples pebbled and strained against the flannel gown. Fingers brushed against her inner thigh. She squeezed her legs tightly together, trapping them.
Whose fingers? Hers? His? Natalie’s? She was dreaming. She knew she was. She had to be dreaming. She let herself sink farther into the darkness.
“That a girl,” came a soothing whisper penetrating her fuzzy brain. “You’re a passionate woman. Let it out. Cherish your passion. Let me help. Let me touch you.”
“Natalie?” Martha whispered, unable to awaken.
A soft chuckle answered. “Not this time. Maybe later if you allow yourself. Now let me help you.”
A tender ghost story and a sizzling erotic romance with a splash of BDSM, Mistress of Purgatory Point is also the deeply moving chronicle of the mid-life sexual awakening of a stoic widow who thought she’d already experienced her one allotted love. One man, two women and two ghosts keep love’s fires burning through the deep chill of a North Woods winter—but which love will hold the key?
Print: Mistress of Purgatory Point and Return to Purgatory Point are available in a single print volume, Purgatory Point
Click on the list below to travel to the other authors: