Hump Day Humps – Oh! Hoaley Night!


ohhoaleynight_510

Sometimes going home is clarifying. Sometimes it’s just plain deadly!

Adam travels to Candlelight, Indiana to visit his parents for Christmas. When he arrives he discovers somebody has killed a man and dumped him in the manger of the living crèche at the local church. Unfortunately, all signs lead back to Adam’s father as the murderer. A Sheriff with a grudge and a small town more interested in gossip than reality, convince Adam that it will be up to him and the gang to clear his father’s name.

Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble
Hoaley Ill-Manored
Hoaley Inexplicable

* * *

Adam yelled through the bathroom door, “What are you doing in there?”

“You’ll see.”

He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, waiting for his chance at the sink. Dirk had been in there a suspiciously long time.

Walter’s snoring wafted through the room, originating from the jumbled comforter on the bottom bunk. It looked like Adam and Dirk would have to share the top bunk again.

His cock jumped at the thought.

The door opened and Adam pushed away from the wall. “Finally—” His words caught in his throat at the sight standing before him. Dirk was wearing his robes from the living crèche event. But the front of the robe was nicely tented, the neckline open and a wide expanse of smooth, golden skin showing beneath it.

Dirk’s sexy green gaze sparkled, the full, pouty mouth widening in a smile as Adam’s boxers bulged from the sight. “I had a little trouble getting the beard on right. Usually Camille, my makeup girl does it for me.”

Adam swallowed hard. “The beard?” Adam’s gaze lifted to Dirk’s face. “Oh yeah, that bushy brown thing on your face. I barely noticed.”

Dirk’s chuckle was deep and husky, filled with heat. “How do you think it will feel on your balls?”

Adam made a soft sound of need in his throat. “Suddenly I’m looking at the beard in a whole new light.”

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Hump Day Hump – FORKED


ForkedCover3

Cliff Blood doesn’t like giant snakes, but a sexy Marshal with fire in his eyes is another story!

Matt Blood’s brother Cliff has arrived on Earth and is working with Bailey’s Bail Bonding. Unfortunately, Matt’s out of town on a case when the feds show up to investigate a bond depositor scam, and Blood’s boss has been implicated. Cliff is on his own finding the real culprit while trying to run interference with sexy Deputy US Marshal Falen Scott. But Marshal Scott has his own secrets — along with a fiery attraction that Cliff seems to share.

***

4.5 Nymphs from Literary Nymphs Reviews Only!

Forked is the second book in the Blood-Hound series. The exceptionally enjoyable short story plot is packed with plenty of action, a mystery and some very interesting characters. Falen and Cliff’s shared intimacies along with their investigative skills make them an invincible team.

4 Stars from SensualReads.com! “If you enjoy paranormal adventure at its best, then you will enjoy Blood-Hound 2: Forked.  Declan Sands takes the action to a new high with an excellent mystery to ponder and hot sexy men to 
appreciate.

***

Cliff was surprised to hear a knock on his door as he stepped out of the shower. He swore, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He gave passing thought to just ignoring the insistent knocking and going to bed. Nobody should be knocking on a guy’s door at three in the morning.

But he couldn’t do it. His experience was that anyone knocking on a door at that hour really needed something.

His stomach twisted in shock when he opened the door to find Marshal Scott standing there looking yummy and unrumpled, despite the late — or early — hour. “Marshal. Unless you’re here to arrest me, this is going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

Falen stepped forward, forcing Cliff back. “Then I guess you’re under arrest.”

Cliff sighed, stepping out of the way to allow the tall, auburn-haired god to enter. Exhausted though he was, Cliff didn’t miss the delectable view as Scott passed by, either coming or going. Marshal Scott might be a consummate jerk, but the man had a first-class ass and a truly stupendous pair of pecs.

Cliff licked his lips, feeling his weariness slide away. Closing the door, he stepped into the marshal’s space in a deliberate attempt to unnerve him. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

Scott’s shoulders stiffened noticeably. There was a pulse of tense silence between them as the other man’s heated gaze slipped down Cliff’s damp chest to the towel he held around his hips. Cliff thought Scott might have made a small sound of pain as he took in Cliff’s “fresh from the shower” condition.

To Cliff’s surprise, Scott shook his head and reached for Cliff, dragging him close. “No beer. But I’ll definitely take the something.”

Falen’s lips captured his, and Cliff’s world tilted dangerously. The marshal’s soft mouth moved insistently on Cliff’s, his tongue pressing for entrance. Cliff resisted for a fraction of a second, realizing the complications a relationship between them would create, but it had been months since he’d wanted another man, and he wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. He opened his lips and welcomed Falen’s hot tongue in to dance with his. The other man tasted of liquid courage in the form of a really good Scotch.

Cliff wrapped his arms around Falen, drawing him close as lust twisted in his belly. The long, hard ridge of flesh in Falen’s pants made his own cock stir with interest, and he realized the towel he’d wrapped around his middle was tenting quickly.

Falen groaned softly against his lips, the hunger in the sound driving right to Cliff’s nipples, peaking them against Falen’s pristine shirt. He tugged the shirt from Falen’s jeans and slipped his hands beneath it, skimming them over a firm, toned geography of delicious man territory.

Falen tugged on Cliff’s towel and, before Cliff’s lust-fogged brain had time to process what was happening, a big, warm hand was holding his dick.

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Dusted

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Hoaley Ill-Manored


Book 2: Hoale Construction Mysteries

Book 2: Hoale Construction Mysteries

A 200 year old manor house, a questionable death, and a cache of stolen jewelry. Who will kill to keep their secrets?

The gang flips a 200 year old manor house in the beautiful, rolling hills of Brown County, Indiana. Unfortunately the house is the site of a suicide, the result of a broken romance, and is rumored to be haunted. Adam and Maddy get caught up in the story of the young couple who were torn apart by family, local events, and something sinister that still seems to be stalking the house. It might not be a ghost, but whatever it is, it has the potential to be deadly.

 

“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight, honey?”

Adam dropped his sleeping bag over the camping cot he’d brought with him and nodded. “We’ve got the bathroom working and I have a refrigerator with beer in it…” he pointed to a small fridge he’d plugged into the wall, “…and Walter’s bed. What more could I need.”

Maddy swatted at a mosquito and grimaced, wiping the bloody results on her jeans. “I don’t know, mosquito netting, air conditioning, a four-poster bed with foam topping…”

“Don’t be a priss, Mads. If you had any hair on your chest at all you’d stay here with me.”

She snorted. “I’ll let you lay claim to the soft curlies on your chest. I’ll console myself with my comfy bed and fifty-two inch flat screen TV.”

Adam grimaced at that. “Hurt me. I have my entertainment too.” He held up his iPad.

Maddy kissed him on the cheek and started toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning partner. Don’t let the air bugs bite.”

“Har!”

Walter started out the door with Maddy. “No you don’t, Walter. You have to stay with me.” The big dog whined, dropped to his butt on the dusty floor, and stared longingly after Maddy. “Sorry, buddy. We’re a team, you and me. You go where I go…never leave a man behind…all for one, one for all…that kind of thing.” Walter dropped to his belly with a groan and stared at Adam, accusation running deep in his big, brown eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re a dog. You have your bed, your favorite rawhide, and the great outdoors to poop and pee in. You won’t even miss the fifty-two inch TV.” Adam’s gaze slid to the door Maddy had just gone through. “Or the bug free comfort of your bed. Or a big, fat, juicy steak…” Adam snapped his mouth shut and pushed the thought of food away before it weakened him. He would go into the nearby town of Ashville, Indiana for dinner later. But first, he and Walter would take a walk down to the lake. That is, if Mike and Sue would let them.

The Phantom of the Opera started playing behind him and Adam sucked in a breath, trying to decide if he wanted to answer it. It was Dirk. They were currently not speaking. Well, if Adam answered the phone they would in reality be speaking. But Adam determined he wouldn’t enjoy it.

Dirk was the biggest reason Adam was hiding out at the Bilsworth flip. He didn’t admit that to himself but deep down he knew it was true. They’d been doing so well for weeks, and then Dirk had returned to California to tape his latest film, Dance of the Copper Goddess, a fantasy about a king who pushed everyone away he cared for because he thought loving only one person would limit the potential of his life.

Adam thought Dirk might have immersed himself just a little too deeply into that role. With a sigh, he rummaged around until he found his cell under the pillow he’d carelessly thrown on top of the cot. “Hello.”

“Hey, Ads.”

Dirk’s familiar voice made Adam’s throat tighten with sudden need. He’d fought that need for weeks, trying to convince himself he didn’t need Dirk Williams to survive. Until that moment he’d actually believed he was making progress. “Hi.”

“It’s really good to hear your voice, babe. I’ve missed you.”

Adam dropped onto the cot, fighting to keep the angry tremor from his voice. “Really? I’m surprised.”

The short beat of silence told Adam Dirk hadn’t been expecting his anger. He really didn’t understand why, the last time they’d spoken they’d had a huge fight over the man Dirk had been spending way too much time with in Los Angeles.

Franklin Spence was a Hollywood producer. He was also openly gay. Dirk had been attending a lot of parties with the man and, if the news clips Adam had seen were accurate, weekends at Spence’s mountainside ranch and at a certain oceanside hideaway in the Cayman Islands.

“What does that mean? I always miss you.”

“Yeah. You told me that. Once. Is there something you need, Dirk?” As soon as the words left his mouth Adam cringed. He should never give his ex-lover an opening like that. Because Dirk would invariably come back with something that would wrench Adam’s heart right out of his chest.

“I need you, Ads.” And there it was.

“I wish I could believe that. Unfortunately I don’t. I told you I need a break from us, Dirk. I meant it. Please don’t call me again.”

“Where are you?”

“That’s not important.” Adam disconnected the call and threw his phone onto the cot, suddenly filled with nervous energy. He knew a quiet walk around the property was exactly what he didn’t need at that moment. More time to think was a bad thing. “Change in plans, Walter. Let’s go into town and see what kind of dinner we can scare up.”

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Other books in the series:

A Hoale Lot of Trouble

Hoaley Inexplicable

 

 

Hump Day Humps – SIZZLED!


SizzledCoverFinalWarning! SIZZLING M/M Excerpt!

Heat pounded down onto the black sand, radiating up to put a sexy sheen over Falen’s golden skin. The vibrant ball of light in the sky painted golden highlights in the Marshal’s wavy, auburn hair and brought out a sexy spray of freckles on his skin. Cliff’s fingertips nearly sizzled from the heat his lover was putting off as he rubbed him down. Despite his relaxed posture, Falen’s muscles quivered under Cliff’s hands, taut with expectation. His big hands clutched the edges of his over-sized towel, his toes dug into the dense, heated sand.

Cliff skimmed his palm down Falen’s long, lean back, sliding it over the golden mounds of his lover’s perfect, naked buttocks. Falen sucked in a breath as Cliff’s fingers slipped into the delicious valley between them. The towel tore under his grip.

Cliff smiled, his hand sliding even deeper, to cup the warm sac between Falen’s legs.

The Marshal widened his legs, giving Cliff room to play. Cliff moved between those strong legs, his hands skimming out of the inviting crack to glide across muscular thighs.

“You’re killin’ me, Blood.”

Cliff’s chuckle was husky with prolonged need. “I’m killing myself.” He reached down to stroke his rock-hard dick, groaning softly at the delicious wave of pleasure that spun through him.

Falen stirred, lifting his head to grin over his shoulder. “I can help you with that.” He lifted to his knees and spread his legs farther, exposing the rock-hard heft of his big cock hanging between them. Cliff took a deep breath, grabbing the sunscreen from the sand and coating his fingertips with it. He slathered the enticing pucker Falen had opened to him with the sweet-smelling lotion and slipped a finger deep.

Available August 8th!

 

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Hump Day Hunk – Bright City Lights


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.

 ~~*~~

Redz World Reviews gave Bright City Lights 5 Shooting Stars!  “The wonderful story telling and heat between Brant and Rabb made this a book I just couldn’t put down. This is my first book I have read by Declan Sands, but I look forward to reading many more in the future. If they are anything like Bright City Lights, I know they will be stories to remember.” 

~~*~~

The bike’s single headlight swung over trees and flared against open land as Rabb turned onto the dirt road leading to the running grounds. The trip to the forest had taken two hours. Two hours of feeling Brant pressed against him. Two hours of smelling the other man’s incredible scent—the scent that still permeated his dreams every single night.

Two hours of a raging hard-on he couldn’t possibly ignore.

Brant’s hands resting lightly on his thighs didn’t help. Or the soft wash of his breath bathing the back of Rabb’s neck. At least Brant couldn’t hear the embarrassing thud of Rabb’s heart beneath his ribs. The husky roar of the bike saved Rabb some serious embarrassment on that score.

He pulled the bike alongside a line of cars, trucks, and bikes and stopped. The silence that met their ears when he killed the engine seemed almost louder than the throaty rumble of his Yamaha.

Cricket song throbbed through the velvet black night, driven past on a soft breeze that carried the scent of shifters. Lots of them. Rabb looked at Brant. “Whatever happens, stay close to me.”

Brant’s handsome face looked ghostly in the moonlight. “That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Rabb shrugged, grinning wickedly. “Maybe I’m trying to keep you close for other reasons.”

Brant laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on.”

They left the small spot of flattened grass that served as the parking area and moved into the trees. Though dense and claustrophobic, the forest wasn’t as uniform as it appeared from the road. They followed a narrow, path worn into dirt by shifters and their prey. Looking close, Rabb could see small signs of the packs’ passing. Small, broken limbs and mashed vegetation told a story only the most observant would recognize.

The night enveloped them. The woods seemed empty until Rabb tuned his senses to it, tapping into an entire ecosystem that was replete with warm and cold blooded inhabitants of all shapes and sizes.

The air between the trees was cool and damp and the earth beneath their shoes was rich with the scent of all the decades that had passed before.

Rabb focused on all of it, while keeping one ear on Brant, making sure he stayed close. He hadn’t been teasing the other man, or trying to score, he was worried about bringing him there. The pack wouldn’t appreciate his bringing an enemy to their most sacred place. In fact it was a pretty sure bet they’d be royally pissed. Rabb would be the only thing standing between Brant and a painful eviction.

Or worse.

Secrets lived long and prospered in the running grounds. Enemies were extinguished, soul and body, there. Mistakes were permanently obscured. And grudges were laid to rest, along with the losers.

Rabb would have his hands full keeping Brant from becoming a permanent part of the landscape.

They hadn’t gone far before Rabb smelled wood smoke. He stopped, throwing out a hand to halt Brant. “Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut. No matter what.” He turned and fixed the other man with a warning look. “Understand?”

Brant nodded but his expression held far too much arrogance for Rabb’s comfort. “I mean it, Brant. There are no laws here except pack law. You’re in our territory now. I’m the only insurance you have that you’ll walk out of here tonight.”

Brant crossed arms over chest, belligerent. “Which totally explains why you insisted I bring no guards.”

“I had no choice, fang. One look at your conglomeration of black suited thugs and this would have been a blood bath.”

Brant glared at him. Rabb could deal with that. It was the pinpoint of fear in the icy gaze that did him in. “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me. The pack is understandably jumpy right now. Someone is targeting us and when that happens we tend to contract and isolate. You’re not pack so you’ll be suspect. They aren’t going to care that we slept together once. A long time ago.”

“It was a hell of a lot more than once,” Brant offered.

“You know what I mean.”

They stared hard at each other for another minute and then Brant finally sighed. “Okay. I’m trusting you with my life, wolf. Let’s see if you can take better care of it than you took with my heart.”

Rabb felt the sting of that remark all the way to his gut. But it wasn’t the time or place to get into it. “I’ll do as well as you’ll let me. Just like last time.”

He turned away and started forward, not wanting to give Brant the chance to say anything else. Their past was their past and he really didn’t want to rehash it—now or ever. Some relationships just weren’t meant to be.

Theirs was apparently one of them.

Golden firelight danced through the trees as Rabb emerged into a small clearing. The fire raged at the center of the space, filling the sky with soft, gray smoke. Dozens of people stood around the flame, their faces blank and their muscles taut with anger.

On the ground next to the blaze was a slim form, wrapped in a blanket. Kneeling on the ground next to the woman was her mate, his head bowed. He was covered in blood, most likely some of it hers, and his big hands were clenched in tight fists at his sides.

As Rabb stepped out all heads turned in his direction. Almost immediately, faces softened, legs buckled, and several shifters hit the ground, prostrate with grief. A soft keening sound filled the night. One of the women sobbed, her head dropping back on the heartfelt sound.

Rabb was their alpha. Pack law said they showed no emotion until the time was right. Until all was in place. With Rabb’s arrival the pack could begin the grieving process. They wasted no time.

Brant stepped out behind him and the mood changed with the swiftness of a hatchet slamming into wood. Tension pulsed across the space, hitting Rabb with the fierceness of actual violence.

Slowly, in movements borne of exquisite pain, the mate of the slain woman stood and turned. His bloodied face was purple with rage, his hard eyes bright with it. His gaze found Brant and his jaw worked, the vein at the side of his throat throbbing with rage. “Good. You brought us a sacrifice. Let the blood feast begin.” He turned to the waiting shifters. “Tonight, let the woods fill with the sound of screams and the scent of death as we avenge our fallen packmate.”

Rabb’s muscles tightened, ready to fight if he had to. He’d known it was coming but even he was shocked by the swiftness with which it occurred. As the entire pack moved forward, all eyes fixed on Brant, the only sound Rabb heard was the startled gulp of the vampire standing at his back.

 

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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.

 

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Other books in the series:

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