My Sexy Saturday – Hoaley Inexplicable


hoaleyinexplicable_1400x2000_B&N

Bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century should have been fun. But the dead guy draped over the weight machine definitely took the joy out of it!
The Hoale Construction gang has taken on the task of bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century. But the dead guy hanging from the new lat machine is putting a serious crimp in their timeline. When Bobby becomes the number one suspect for the murder, Adam and the gang are forced to try and clear him. But who is the guy? And was Bobby really the last one to see him alive? Questions only seem to multiply the deeper they dig. Until they uncover a connection with a group of thugs who call themselves the Indiana Mobsters. Things just continue to spiral downward from there.

~~*~~

Adam grinned. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Commander.”

Dirk’s tongue slipped out and tasted the rim of Adam’s ear. “I don’t think so, guapo. You will scream like a girl as I take you from behind.” The whip slipped down his throat and shoved past the buttons on his shirt, rubbing his nipples until they were rigid.

Despite the play-acting and the horrible dialogue, Adam’s cock hardened with interest. He was so hard, in fact he wasn’t sure how much longer he could just stand there as Dirk rubbed that whip over him. “How about less talk and more action compañero?”

Dirk hissed against his ear, pressing himself against Adam’s hip. “Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty to me in Spanish. Did you learn that from the lovely Rosy?”

Adam rubbed his hand over the front of Dirk’s fatigues. “Mostly I learn swear words from Rosy. She calls me lots of names. But I do occasionally pick up something useful.”

Dirk laughed. He reached down and unzipped Adam’s jeans, his hand sliding in to grasp the rigid shaft inside. The leather of his gloves was warm and wonderfully grippy. A very nice addition to their play. “Mmm, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” To Adam’s surprise and pleasure, Dirk dropped to his knees in front of Adam and took his cock in his mouth, sliding it deep.

Adam groaned, one hand fumbling toward the table’s surface to support himself as his knees buckled with pleasure. “Why Commander, I had no idea you were so orally talented. I guess I should have known, the way you roll those Rs and everything.”

 

Buy links:

Amazon  Amazon.uk  Amazon.ca  B&N  ARe  Kobo

 

Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble, Book 1
Hoaley Ill-Manored, Book 2

 

Return to My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

Advertisements

Hoaley Inexplicable


Book 3: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Book 3: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century should have been fun. But the dead guy draped over the weight machine definitely took the joy out of it!

The Hoale Construction gang has taken on the task of bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century. But the dead guy hanging from the new lat machine is putting a serious crimp in their timeline. When Bobby becomes the number one suspect for the murder, Adam and the gang are forced to try and clear him. But who is the guy? And was Bobby really the last one to see him alive? Questions only seem to multiply the deeper they dig. Until they uncover a connection with a group of thugs who call themselves the Indiana Mobsters. Things just continue to spiral downward from there.

~~*~~

The guard behind him shoved him inside and the other guard slammed the door closed. He heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and ran to the door. The knob wouldn’t turn. He pounded on the door with his fists. “I want a lawyer!”

“That won’t be necessary, Señor Hoale.”

Adam whipped around, his heart in his throat. A man stood at the back of the room, half in the shadows. He wore an ugly dark blue uniform with a wide black belt around his waist. A black, military style hat dipped low over his face, showing only a square jaw and strong chin, which was decorated by a sexy little goatee. “Who the hell are you?”

The man pushed away from the wall and started toward him, his gloved hands coming into view. He held a short, black leather whip in one hand. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

The bad movie line was delivered with a decidedly Hispanic accent. Had Adam somehow gotten on the wrong side of the Mexican police? Not easy to do when you live in Indiana. He swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on…”

“Shut up, Señor Hoale.” The man’s gruff voice seemed somehow familiar and Adam tilted his head, trying to get a better look at him under the hat. The stranger walked with a slight limp, his right leg not bending as well as the left. Adam frowned. He didn’t know anybody with a limp.
The other man stopped in front of him and stuck the whip under Adam’s chin, forcing his gaze upward. “Nothing you can say right now will help and you’ll only piss me off so I’d advise you to keep your mouth closed and listen.”

Adam experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. He tried to lower his chin to get a look at the man again. The whip tightened against his chin. The man pressed closer, his lips stopping close enough to Adam’s ear that it tickled when he spoke. “You are a very sexy man, Señor Hoale.”

Adam blinked, frowned, and started to rebuke the other man. But when the stranger cupped his crotch in one, black-gloved hand, Adam coughed out a laugh, finally realizing why the words and the persona seemed so familiar. It was corrupt Police Commander Cristiano Inocente from Dirk’s last action film, Murder Especial.

Adam grinned. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Commander.”

Dirk’s tongue slipped out and tasted the rim of Adam’s ear. “I don’t think so, guapo. You will scream like a girl as I take you from behind.” The whip slipped down his throat and shoved past the buttons on his shirt, rubbing his nipples until they were rigid.

 

Buy links:

Amazon  Amazon.uk  Amazon.ca  B&N  ARe  Kobo

 

Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble, Book 1
Hoaley Ill-Manored, Book 2

Monday Musings – In Terror of the Blank Page


The cursor blinks unhelpfully, laughing at me in little spurts.

I sigh, my mind an empty wasteland.

The vast expanse of unfilled white space calls to me, an untapped bounty of potential I just can’t grasp.

My fingers tense, flex, hover over the keys as I struggle for a cogent thought.

Nothing comes.

Until at last…in desperation…I just start to type.

And finally the space is filled with words.

Inane, hopeful, nonsense syllables–ugly and weak.

But black dissects white…something dances over nothing.

I heave a relieved sigh.

I’ve done it.

I’ve birthed an ugly stepchild.

No matter.

There is beauty beneath the chaos.

It needs only my careful keystrokes to show its face.

I relax, knowing that I can conquer ugly prose.

But I am helpless against the blank page.

From something I can create something more.

But nothing…

Nothing sorely tests my mettle.

 

Monday Musings – What’s in a Name?


A comment from a new reader on Goodreads gave me the idea for this week’s post. (Hey, Ulysses! ..waving) Having a unique (and wonderful) name himself, Ulysses was curious about my name choice for Adam Hoale of my Hoale Construction Series. Responding to this question forced me to put into words what I’d instinctively believed as I’ve penned my stories. To me at least, names are important. Character names are a huge part of the character’s makeup and identity. When a reader begins reading my book, he or she has no idea who my characters are. It’s my job to introduce them on level deep enough to make them friends. No easy task within the space of a few hundred pages. This is especially difficult in a novella, which is what I write exclusively for one of my publishers. So every detail about a character is important. Every detail gives away a little bit of your character’s personality, his background, and what makes him tick.

I’ve always liked names. I enjoy finding names that roll off the tongue in a fun way, names that reflect genealogy (or species), and names that give clues. I’ve been known to flip words around and use them backwards as names and clues. In general, I wring the most I can from the names I pin to characters and locations in my books. I use names in several ways. First, the name I give my character forms a picture in the reader’s mind. Sometimes that picture is false, because the fun in the name is showing just how different my character is from the name I gave him. For example, in my Honeybun series (written as Sam Cheever) all of the Honeybun brothers have strange names. When you add first names like Heathcliffe or Edric to the last name, Honeybun, you picture some pale-skinned, snooty aristocrat who lives in a castle with servants. But what if your guy is exactly the opposite? What if he’s tall and sexy and strong enough to save a damsel in distress but secure enough to treat his mother like a (bossy) princess? At the very least you have a fun detail that creates challenges which your character can overcome and an interesting backstory to go along. As an illustration, here’s a snippet from one of my Honeybun books:

Angie asked, “Clovis?”

Alastair swung his gaze to her, a smile in his sexy blue eyes, “Third oldest brother, drill instructor, Marines.”

Angie made an oh with her mouth and nodded, then favored him with a mischievous grin. “With a name like Clovis Honeybun, I’ll bet he’s kicked a few Privates over the years huh? Pun intended.”

Alastair just shook his head.  “You have no idea.”

In my case, eight Honeybun brothers might just be suffering from the agony of a mother who only wanted one daughter, but who just kept having sons. #:0) Or it just might be that she liked old English names. The reader can decide which story makes more sense or creates more magic for them.

In my Hoale Construction mystery series, Adam Hoale has to suffer insensitive jokes from people who refer to him as A. Hoale. Adam handles the burden of his strange name with grace and good humor and that’s a point in his favor and a window into the strength of his personality. It’s one small detail that, mixed with all of the other things we learn about Adam in the course of these books, makes the reader understand him a bit better. And hopefully encourages them to see him as someone they want to spend more time with.

So, what’s in a name? Actually, just about everything!

Happy Reading everybody!

 

Book 1: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Book 1: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Sexy gay construction company owner, Adam Hoale, sometimes gets more than he bargained for when he flips a house!

Adam Hoale owns a construction company called, predictably, Hoale Construction. When he finds an eye opening surprise in the walls of a house he’s flipping, and a libido flaring surprise standing on the lawn, he’s willing to do the right thing with the surprise in the wall while entertaining dirty thoughts about the surprise on the lawn.

But as the world finds out what he discovered, and his new boy toy seems to be keeping too many secrets to make a relationship a reality, Adam soon realizes he may just get flipped himself if he’s not careful.

 

5 Stars from The Romance Studio: “This is a very good story from beginning to end and I thoroughly enjoyed the read. The author has written this one so well I could have sworn I was part of the story as the characters felt like old friends. They are well drawn in a clever, solid plot that is very inviting. The romantic aspect is charming and realistically written with some mysterious elements also. I really loved this book. The author took a simple theme and made it into something grand. A Hoale Lot of Trouble is the first in a new mystery series. I can’t wait to read what’s coming next.”

ARe Recommended Read! “I wholeheartedly recommend this delightful story. This one will leave you smiling.”

Pridefest – Popularity of GLBT Fiction – Leading or Reflecting?


There’s little doubt that GLBT books are leading the pack in reader popularity. Look at the Bestseller lists at most publisher and eseller sites and you’ll probably find that GLBT fiction is heavily represented in the top 10. Readers LOVE reading about gay romance in all genres, the hotter the better. Is this trend reflective of the steady change in public opinion about gay love? Or is it partly responsible for that change? It’s a fascinating question of the chicken and egg variety, but there’s no question the two issues are connected.

Without an ongoing change in public opinion it is unlikely gay fiction would be seeing such a climb to the top of the charts. And without great books that represent healthy, loving gay relationships, many readers might not understand the reason that change is important. Books about gay relationships illustrate how important love is to human happiness and development, no matter the sex of the parties involved in that love. But this type of fiction does much more. It also highlights the challenges inherent in the gay relationship, the personal insecurities and the public mask many gays don in their personal interactions. Showing that side of the gay lifestyle attaches a face and form to something the reader might not have considered or understood before.

However, there’s more than negativity in gay fiction. Not all gays are conflicted. Not all gay relationships are challenged. Gay fiction also celebrates the joy of self-acceptance. It heralds the growth that comes from having met and overcome the obstacles in finding love within your sex. And when you add into the mix the thrill of suspense, the captivating mystery, or the adventure of a paranormal you have something that really draws a reader in and immerses him or her into the story.

So is gay fiction leading people toward understanding, or reflecting an understanding that already exists? My guess is it’s a mix of both. One thing’s for sure, whatever the reason for its popularity, this sub-genre of fiction has broadened the world for many readers, and created a sexy new type of fiction for us to savor!

Happy reading everybody!

In addition to commenting below, for a chance to win a copy of my sexy paranormal adventure, Bright City Lights, please Like my Facebook page.

Book 1: City of Lights Series

Book 1: City of Lights Series

 

Sometimes it’s harder to be together than it is to be apart.

Rabb is an alpha shifter, a werewolf, who likes to defy both the odds and authority. He prefers the city lights over the open spaces most shifters enjoy.

Brant is a politician with a secret that’s becoming harder and harder to contain. As mayor of Bright City, he’s determined to keep the city free of shifters to protect his secret.

The two men share a fair amount of distrust, along with a smoldering history that threatens to drag them under again. But when shifters begin to die in Bright City, Rabb and Brant need to find a way to work together again. Especially when one of them inadvertently steps right into the murderer’s deadly path.

Book page for more…

Tuesday Taste – SIZZLED – August!


Here’s a little sneak peak of Book 4 of my fun and sexy Blood-Hound series:

coming soon 2_Changeling

Enjoying much-deserved R&R on the black sand beaches of the ruling Authority’s planet Enitrus, Cliff Blood is not happy when his brother Matt and his lover Rum show up to spoil his and Falen’s vacay with bad news. It seems Lotus Brand, evil snake-villain with a plan to take over Earth by force, has been discovered heading back to Earth and he’s targeting the shifters’ favorite cops.

Problem is, the boys aren’t going to make it back to Earth before Lotus gets there, so Littlejohn and Petra have to fend for themselves, while negotiating a new development in their relationship that already has them slightly off-balance.

~~*~~

Petra glared at the massive shifter standing in front of her. “I don’t care what Littlejohn told you, Adams, I don’t need you to check the ladies room before I go inside.”

The grizzly shifter crossed massive arms over his chest and glared back at her from under bushy eyebrows. “What kind of bodyguard would I be if I didn’t protect you at all times…even when it was inconvenient?”

Petra put her hand over the handle of her gun and lifted one eyebrow. “A live one?”

His small, brown eyes narrowed. “You can’t kill me with that.”

“No. But I can give you one hell of a case of heartburn.”

When Griz Adams remained bearish on the protection thing, Petra finally gave in with a sigh. “Hurry up. I have to pee.”

The big man slipped silently past her and into her bathroom as Petra danced from foot to foot in the hallway. When a couple of minutes had passed and he still hadn’t returned, she called out. “You aren’t staring at yourself in the mirror, are you?”

He lumbered out. “I was picking a zit on my nose.”

“Ha, ha. Were there any snake shifters in the toilet?”

The big man growled low. “That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Laughing happily at his discomfort, Petra hurried past him and closed the door, locking it before moving quickly across the small room to do her business. As she was washing her hands she heard a short, sharp bark of surprise and something heavy slammed against the bathroom door. Petra rushed over and fumbled with the lock.

“Griz? Are you all right?”

Growling sounds mixed with the sound of crashing and grappling beyond the door. She turned the knob and pulled.

“Don’t come out here!” Griz shouted.

Petra grabbed her gun and yanked on the door. There was a roar…a pain-filled cry…and then nothing as Petra yanked the door open. She looked at the creature standing a few feet away and squeaked, feeling the blood rush from her face. She was suddenly glad she’d just emptied her bladder or she might have embarrassed herself.

“Holy…”

The wide, black-gummed jaw opened, showing massive white teeth, red with blood. “Nothin’ holy here, beautiful.” The voice was gravel on glass and made her shudder. The wide, black muzzle hovered over Griz’s throat, covered in blood from his ripped flesh. The grizzly shifter wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell if his chest still rose and fell. The fiery, black monster was breathing hard, its wide chest heaving and covered with bloody tracks.

At least Griz had gotten in his knocks before the thing had taken him down.

Petra stood in shocked silence for a few beats and then frowned, rage rising up to replace fear in her breast. “You sonofabitch.” The words came out in a soft, unruffled tone, surprising even her. Someone who didn’t know Petra well might think she was calm. They would be mistaken. She was the exact opposite of calm.

She was enraged.

“My home.” She lifted her hand and shot the thing right between the eyes. “My life.” She shot it again. “My annoying bodyguard.” Each bullet set the hound back on its heels and pushed it a few inches further away. But each time the monster shook it off and started toward her again. She emptied her Glock into the thing’s face and still it came for her.

Petra ran back into the bathroom and looked frantically around for something she could use as a weapon. Desperate, she grabbed the shower rod off the wall and managed to shove it in front of her throat just as the thing lunged.

The impact sent her flying backward, to crash hard against the tile wall beneath the window. Bloody-covered claws ripped through the peony-covered shower curtain and ripped the plastic hooks into pieces. Smoky breath bathed her face as terrifying red eyes stared into it. A massive paw found her thigh and raked downward, digging bloody furrows into her skin beneath her jeans. She screamed, long and hard as pain burned like fire. Then she smelled her flesh cooking and realized it was fire. The thing was ripping and burning her at once.

The massive jaws closed down on the flimsy metal of the rod and easily broke it. Petra knew she was about to die. But if she was going down, she was gonna take the evil son of a fiery bitch down with her. The huge jaws clamped around her throat and bore down. Petra couldn’t breathe. She felt the muscles of her throat ripping and tears flooded her eyes. Panic brought her hands up as she tried to push the fiery beast off. Her hand caught on his shoulder and wouldn’t go any closer. It took her panicked brain a moment to realize she still held the shower rod. She started to loosen her fingers but stopped. Maybe there was something she could still do. In a final, adrenalin-fueled strike, Petra jammed the broken edge the shower rod into the thing’s throat and shoved as hard as she could.

Hot blood bathed her chest, setting her skin on fire. The huge, black head rolled back and the jaw opened, only a gurgling sound coming out as it tried to howl in pain.

Petra screamed as the blood scalded her flesh and tried to scamper out from under the hound. But the beast was flailing wildly, trying to remove the rod from its throat and all she could do was cover her head with her arms and try to avoid the razor-sharp claws. Still they found her, ripping and ripping until she felt as if there wasn’t an inch of flesh that wasn’t torn and bloody.

Then all of a sudden the hound’s weight flew off her legs and it yelped once, before the meaty sound of flesh tearing brought a tense silence. Petra opened her eyes, tried to see who was standing over her, but there was so much blood. It was in her eyes, her mouth, running from her nose. She tried to speak, tried to sit up, but the world slipped away from her and all she could do was collapse back to the blood-covered tile.

~~*~~

Like what you read? Haven’t read books 1 through 3 yet? There’s still time. #:0)

Dusted

Forked

Roasted

Monday Musings – Just call me God!


Yeah, I’ll admit I’m functioning under a God complex. Who wouldn’t be? I mean, I can give a good man love or take a bad man to his knees with just the stroke of a pen (or key #:0). I can make the skies boil and the seas foam. I control time, conjure magic, and bring entire continents to heel. I am writer, hear me roar, prostrate yourselves before me or I’ll smite you with a single keystroke. (Okay, it might take several keystrokes – I’m good but not that good.) I can right wrongs, banish evil, and scour Heaven and Hell for solutions to the world’s problems.

Give me a cheating spouse. I’ll make his peeper shrink. I’ll make an evil mastermind cower in my presence. Under my deft touch, a lost child is found, a found child is lost, and giant snakes eat both the cheating spouse and the found child in one hearty chomp.

Yes, it’s a heady power and one not to be wielded lightly. Which is why I’m initiating a call for writers to be licensed. Not everybody is equipped to handle such power.  It might go to their heads or their…erm…fingers.

And to make sure the correct people are in charge of controlling the worlds they write, I’m declaring myself the single arbiter of all licensing. Only I will decide who can be a writer. Because I’m smart and strong and capable enough to not let it go to my head.

I mean, everybody knows I’m smarter than the rest of the world. So of course I should be in charge.

#:0)

Happy reading everybody!