Claire Thompson: The Perfect Cover

The Perfect Cover by Claire Thompson
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Jo Barrett: Highlander’s Challenge

Highlander’s Challenge by Jo Barrett
From: The Wild Rose Press

Furious, Tuck stomped down the stairs and outside to the lists. She wanted, needed a good workout. She stopped at the edge of the small field and observed the men as they started their daily routine. The sound of steel against steel reverberated in the air. She caught sight of Michael standing to the side talking to Fiona, his heart in his eyes. No man would ever look at her that way. Least of all, the one she wanted.

With a snarl, she stomped toward the lovebirds. “Fiona, you ready to work out or what?” she said gruffly.

Fiona’s mouth opened and closed as she blinked.

“What mean you?” Michael asked, his face twisted with confusion as his eyes darted between them.

Tuck ignored him, her gaze firmly on Fiona. “Well?”

“I, uh, I suppose.”

“Good,” she said with a firm nod. “Then let’s work over there.”

“In the lists?” she gasped. “Nay, we canna.”

“Why not? It’s the best place to do it. Plenty of room to move around. Come on.” Tuck grabbed her arm and dragged her across to the far corner where the men were few. Michael followed, demanding to know what they were doing.

“You daft females. Do you wish tae get your heads taken off?” he sputtered. “Women dinnae belong in the lists.”

“Mayhap we shouldna do this, Tuck,” Fiona said meekly.

Tuck puffed out a breath and turned on Michael, her hands fisted on her hips. “Look, I’m teaching her how to defend herself. You got a problem with that?”

He scowled. “She doesna need you tae teach her such things. I’ll protect her,” he declared,pounding his chest.

Rolling her eyes, she positioned Fiona where she wanted her and began. “I’m going to show you how to get loose if someone grabs you by the wrist.”

“Fiona, I forbid you tae do this,” Michael barked.

Both women stilled and turned their heads, their faces set in firm scowls.

“You forbid me?” Fiona asked, her hands mimicking Tuck’s, fisted and planted firmly on her hips. “You aren’t my husband yet, Michael Fraser, and I’ll thank you tae be remembering that.”

He clenched his jaw as a crowd grew around them. “Husband or no, your da wouldna approve of this. ‘Tis not fittin’ for a woman tae fight.”

“Geez, not that again,” Tuck muttered. “Fiona, if you want to do this, let’s get on with it.”

“Aye.” She nodded firmly and turned back to Tuck.

“Good. Now, using your free hand, grab the top of your fist and then pull back against the attacker’s grip. Especially against his thumb, it’s the weakest link. By pulling back on your own wrist, you’re pulling his shoulder forward which can interfere with a punch from his other arm. Also, by sinking back, you can shift your weight, giving you a chance to get in a snap kick. You remember that, right?”

“Aye, but I’ll not be able tae do it with my skirts.”

“True, they’d get in the way, but this will give you a chance to run for it. Now, let’s give it a try.”

Tuck acted as the attacker, and they moved in slow motion a time or two to practice. When Tuck felt she was ready, they did it for real.

Michael looked on with his mouth hanging open, apparently stunned that Fiona had disobeyed him. One of the men tossed a wisecrack in their direction, setting his face on fire. Michael squared his shoulders and stepped up beside them.

“Stop this nonsense, Fiona. I’ll not have you lookin’ the fool,” he demanded, slapping his hand on Tuck’s wrist where it sat atop Fiona’s. That was a very…big…mistake. Tuck pulled him forward and kicked him squarely in the stomach. He fell on his butt, gasping for air.

“How’s that for nonsense?” she asked, standing over him. She’d had it with all the women don’t do this crap.

Fiona fell to her knees beside him. “Ach, Michael, are you hurt?” He shook his head, glaring up at Tuck as William and the others laughed at his expense.

“How does it feel tae be beaten by a woman?” one of the men called. “At least she left your nose intact this time, eh Michael?”

“Did she bat her lashes at you before she put you on your arse?” another added. “Or were you struck dumb by her charms?”

Tuck gritted her teeth. That last crack was aimed more at her than Michael, but they’d get their turn, and she’d enjoy every minute of it. But first she had to finish with Fiona’s fiancé. Looking down at him, she asked, “Care to take a shot at me? I kind of owe you one for that sucker punch a while back.”

“I’ll not fight a woman,” he spat, climbing to his feet.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. When would these guys get with the program? Reaching out, she took his arm and flipped him over her back. He landed with a glorious thump at her feet.

Fiona dropped beside him again. “Please, Tuck. Dinnae hurt him.”

Michael shoved her aside as he got back on his feet. Fiona’s begging had hit a soft spot. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted a piece of her so bad he could taste it.

“How about now?” she taunted, eager to get a real work out. She’d hidden out in her room and various other places since that night she’d heard about MacLean’s upcoming wedding. Pouting, of all things. Well not anymore.

Michael’s fists clenched by his sides as the men made a circle around them, laughing and joking, yet he still held back. She grinned at his show of chivalry, admiring how well he was taking the ribbing. But she needed a good fight to get a certain Highlander off her mind, and these guys needed a lesson.

“I tell you what, Michael,” she said. “No punches, no biting, no clawing, just a good old fashioned wrestle. Whoever pins the other, wins. Think you can handle that?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken.”

That did the trick. He lunged at her with a roar, but she sadly put him on his back again. The men called and cheered. “Dinnae let her beat you, lad! She’s just a woman!”

She gave him his lead for a while, letting him think he might win. Humiliating him wasn’t on her agenda, but she eventually pinned him, and he grudgingly conceded with a winded grunt. Feeling invigorated, she rose to her feet, dusted off her jeans and turned to the men laughing their kilt-clad butts off.

“What sort of fankle is this?” MacLean blustered, as he and Ian strode into the list.

“The wee lassie here bested Michael in a wrestling match,” William said with a wide grin. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he said, “And a damn fine job she did too.”

Tuck grinned and bowed her head slightly toward the old Highlander who gave her a friendly wink in return. One down and a few dozen to go, she thought, looking over the rest of the men.

I have picked on The Wild Rose Press in the past but was surprised recently to find they had changed their hokey category naming ways. So I decided then and there not to let my initial reaction to them keep me from exploring their writers. I have to admit my surprise at just how well this turned out.

I totally cringe when thinking about my past attempts at reading the Time Travel Romance. Not very good experiences I must say, even though you would think by now I would have run into at least one or two books I could recommend. Unfortunately I have never fully enjoyed the Time Travel Romance genre due to some massive cliches it’s writers tend to use over and over again.

So first off, I did not know that Jo Barrett’s book here was a Time Travel Romance when I bought it. I did not read the blurb so much as clicked buy when I saw the rather nice mantitty kilt cover. Well, thank god for sexy covers!

Amelia Tucker is an ex-military bodyguard hired to protect a wealthy young woman, Jenny Maxwell, from the threat of kidnapping while she goes on tour of the various historical locales of Scotland. While on the Isle of Mull they stop at one of the two castles and visit the gardens and are promptly attacked. Tuck is thrown into a nearby fountain and magically transported to ancient Scotland where she runs into Colin MacLean his well hung Sporran and his good friend Ian about to be ambushed on the road to Arreyder Castle.

Jo Barrett I loved your book. A butt kickin’ young woman launched into a world of honor bound male chauvinism and fighting men in kilts. What a fun time I had. It’s like you took the best part of the whole modern Buffy style heroine found in Paranormal Romance and threw it into the Time Travel Romance stew and wow, what a great idea. It does make the reading go a whole lot easier if your female character can hold her own in the heat of battle.

So did I enjoy everything though? Besides the ideal of historical accuracy which needs to sorta be put away when reading Time Travel Romance. Frankly because I just have not read any that were very accurate. Well OK, um the hero Colin and his buddies are a little too accepting of this strange bad ass woman. I find that happens more often than not in these books. The heroine Tuck may be a bit too much for some readers to take but as I said this style of story in my opinion needs the fresh air a brash female character brings to keep my interest. Last but not least, the reason I am only giving Highlander’s Challenge a B grade at most…

The last few chapters. See, this is one of those books where we got almost all the way to the end on a perfect, original, fun packed, note and then the author did something so forced, so cliche ridden, I almost cried. She has Tuck return to the future to pick up a few things. NO, NO, NO, GOD NO! Let her learn to enjoy her fate and stay right where she landed. Would you throw yourself back into some magical portal after finding the man of your dreams? Hell no, I am a card carrying slut!

So no, the story is not perfect, but damn it came close by at least two chapters. An amazing Grade B for a Time Travel Romance.

Jo Barrett ya did good and I look forward to buying more of your books.

Victor J. Banis: Longhorns

Longhorns by Victor J. Banis
From: Carroll & Graf

“Hoo-ee,” Buck shouted, walking over to them, and grinning from ear to ear like he hadn’t a few minutes before been no more than a heartbeat or two away from ending his days. “That was some excitement, wasn’t it? Sure got the blood all stirred up, I will say.” He reached behind him and rubbed his hands heartily up and down over his butt. “I swear, it makes me want a good ridin’ myself, to take the edge off, if someone was of a mind.” He cast an unmistakable glance at the bulge of Les’s crotch. To Les’s embarrassment, the boys standing nearby saw it all as well, and whooped with laughter, too keyed up from the stampede, and too impressed with what the boy had done, to take any offense.

Red clapped a big hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Say,” he said, a wide grin on his homely face, “Why don’t you and me go put them horses away, and we can take care of them saddles while we are at it?”

“I’m your man,” Buck said. “I reckon my saddle could sure use a little taking care of right now, the way it is tingling.” He returned Red’s grin, and started away with him, but he looked back to wink at Les, which produced another round of guffaws.

One or two of the cowboys looked after the departing pair wistfully. It was kind of hard not to take notice of Buck’s round little butt, the way he strutted and the way them dungarees of his fit like a second skin, and they had all of them been out here on the prairie for several weeks now, and there weren’t many that did not think a butt looked prettier to them now than it might have when they set out.

Les had been herding most of his life and he was no fool. He knew that sometimes on the trail, one or the other of the men would slip away to somebody else’s bedroll for a spell. Everyone just pretended they didn’t notice anything or hear the noises that followed. You never could tell: it might be you feeling the need real bad the next night. Truth was, once or twice Les had almost wished someone might have creeped over to his bedroll, but they never had, him being the boss and all. Almost wished, but not quite. That just plain wasn’t his style.

He never paid much attention to that shit when it happened though, and he had never attached any importance to it, either. He figured that was just a matter of hot nuts, and what was available, which was pretty limited out on the range. This new guy, though, was something different. Les was beginning to think the boy was a real sternwheeler.

He suddenly realized that his eyes too had strayed to Buck’s curvy little bottom. He had a fleeting notion that he wouldn’t have much minded taking the edge off his own pent-up energy.

He turned away in disgust and thrust that thought determinedly from his mind. Shit, he told himself, next thing you know I’ll be taking him serious, all them damn fool remarks of his.

The little fucker sure could ride, though.

One day while working the roundup Les, a 40 year old trail boss of the Double H Ranch, and his friend Red watch a young drifter, Buck, ride up. The cowboys have no clue how much their lives are about to change.

I just got through reading the Publisher’s Weekly review of this book. Nice to know their reviews are about as useless as Romantic Times when making Gay Romance buying decisions.

When reading Victor J. Banis keep in mind that he came from a pulpier style of writing during those bad hair days of the 60’s. I would pay him about the same respects I would give say a Zane Grey for founding the type of Gay Erotic Romance you read these days. Since his were some of the first books you could buy way back when. I don’t go that far back but I admit I was reading Victor’s books along with James Barr, Gordon Merrick and Patricia Nell Warren when I was in high school.

I was surprised to see this one sitting on the shelf over at A Different Light here in San Francisco. I thought maybe they had started re-publishing his older works, which they have, but this was actually written fairly recently.

I love it! We are not talking Brokeback Mountain here, this is more along the lines of say a Gunsmoke or Big Valley serialized western. More rough and tumble, stoic type cowboys with less “Chris Owen” soap going on and more sweat and blood. Which is always a bit more of a realistic approach since I for one do not think cowboys saw a lot of soap or spent much time emoting for that matter.

So Buck is the young whipper snapper hot after some ranch boss ass in this story and he makes his lewd highly suggestive intentions pretty dang clear to the old cowboy early on. The constant remarks and innuendos do not let up and more than one scene has them playing verbal tennis with each other over when and where Les will finally give in and give Buck the ride he is gunning for. I can see that this might get a bit tiresome for some readers but that constant banter is the whole point. Buck is wearing down our stoic Les and working on getting himself into the mans bed roll one way or another.

Now Les does not take kindly to all this unwanted attention and they do come to blows over it all eventually. But that’s just real, and no one ever said real cowboy love is pretty. It’s not like they have douche kits and handi-wipes out there.

Anyway, after the week that was I just had to let you guys know about this one. Well worth the read and this might end up on your keeper shelf without too much effort on it’s part.

It’s a cute story even if the sex scenes are not perfect, much like Victor’s stories he wrote in the 60’s. Hey, you cannot always teach an old dog new tricks especially when they were more likely to edit him back then for getting too descriptive and all.

But… this old dog sure knows how to write a burly cowboy that just might give another cowboy a kiss and a whole lot more eventually in a heart warming yet very masculine way right after beating his brains out and leaving him there bleeding in the dirt, hell, he probably does not smell all that purty if you get too close either but that’s just real cowboy love again.

I’m giving Victor a solid B and hoping he writes another real quick like. Zane Grey spewed out something like 90 Pulp Westerns in his lifetime and even Publisher’s Weekly knows to shut their trap about them so I figure another 20 books about gay cowboys and Victor will be golden and by then he might actually get the sex cooking at the right temperature.

Jamie Craig: Unveiled

Unveiled by Jamie Craig
From: Amber Quill Press

“What happened?” Emma asked. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her nothing happened; Jess was sure she probably felt his tumultuous emotions from outside the building. He finished off the bottle and tossed it into the trash with a little too much force.

“Xavier wasn’t at the party, so Gideon, in his infinite wisdom, agreed to a second party. Without bothering to ask
the display if that was going to be a problem. But that’s okay, I have nothing to be afraid of except a room full of vamps, and humans, and their bloodlust.”

Her eyes darted around the room, her head finally turning to fix on the bedroom door. Emma stared at it for long seconds before shifting back to Jesse. “Did you get hurt tonight?”

“No.” He rotated his head, stretching the muscles in his neck. “No more than what was planned, at any rate.”

“So why…” She stopped, her frown deepening as she looked behind her. In the next second, she was stepping out of
the way as Gideon came barreling into the kitchen.

“What the fuck did you expect me to do?” He ignored Emma to march forward and shove Jess into the refrigerator.
He was oblivious to Jesse’s wince as fresh pain bloomed in his back, though Emma’s sharp gasp meant she was more than aware. “You can’t think I actually like this, can you?”

Jesse pushed both hands against Gideon’s chest, allowing himself just enough room to get past Gideon. He wasn’t going to be cornered and shouted at, or cower beneath Gideon’s hard eyes, like he had done something wrong. Like he was being the unreasonable one.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a bit of a hard time putting myself in your shoes, Gideon. I didn’t realize it was so fucking hard on you to be the one free to walk, and talk, and fight, and leave, and not be locked alone in the dark.”

Emma blocked his exit. Twin spots of color had risen in her cheeks, and her breathing had quickened, but she remained firm when he attempted to navigate past her.

“Tell him you’re scared.” Her dark eyes were beseeching. “Tell him anything, Jess.”

“I did.” Jesse didn’t bother to disguise the fact that he was hurt. “But that doesn’t seem to matter right now.”

“No, what matters is that you trust me to make this right,” Gideon barked.

Emma’s head snapped around to stare at him. “You’re not helping.”

“Gee, and you figured that out all on your lonesome, did you?” His mouth curled into a sneer. “If you’d let us go after your bitch of a sister with guns blazing, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

Jesse spun to face Gideon, appalled. It was one thing for Gideon to lash out at him—Jess knew eventually they would put all of this behind them—but he didn’t expect him to be so vicious to Emma. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t talk to her like that.”

“It’s okay, Jess.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. “He’s just trying to bait me so we don’t end up talking about what’s really wrong here.”

Gideon jabbed an angry finger in their direction. “Being able to tell Jess is pissed does not give you permission to interfere in this.”

“No, the fact that you two insisted on me sticking around when I wanted to go is. And Jess isn’t the only one I can read right now.”

Gideon’s eyes flashed. “Vampire, remember? You can’t read me.”

“I can’t read you easily. But the more I get to know you, the easier it gets.” Emma took an even step back in his
direction. “And I’m not going to touch on the fact that you both are so wired right now, I’d have to be deaf and blind not to know how hurt both of you are.”

Jesse’s head was pounding. His inherent need for everybody to get along was starting to pull at his anger, and a
part of him wanted to abandon his own frustrations and work on smoothing things over between Gideon and Emma. It was an almost ridiculous impulse, but it was strong. But beyond that, he wanted to scoff at Emma’s words. What had hurt Gideon? That Jesse didn’t want to quietly submit to something so fucking dangerous and painful? “It doesn’t matter,” Jesse muttered, making another attempt to get past Emma.

This time, she grabbed his arm. “It does,” she said. “Don’t run away, please.”

Warmth radiated from her palm and spread up his arm. He recognized immediately what she was trying to do—replace
the frustrated pain with something more peaceful. At first, he resented the attempt. These were his emotions, and he came by them honestly, and he had every right to suffer through every hellish second of them. But at the same time, the spark of heat was a welcome relief. But it was only a spark.

“We need to talk about this,” Gideon said.

The tips of Emma’s fingers began to stroke the underside of his arm. “I know how scared you are.” Her voice was as soft as her touch. “But you were there for me when I was so terrified at Sangre and the next morning. Let me be here for you now. Please, Jess.”

Jesse relaxed slightly, no longer poised for flight. He turned his attention to Gideon. “Do you want to talk about
this? Or do you just want me to agree with you?” The question was more curious than confrontational. Even if Emma wasn’t fighting each wave of anger with her touch, Jesse was too exhausted to sustain the argument for much longer.

“I would’ve talked to you about this at the party if I’d had the chance,” Gideon said.

Jesse knew that was probably true, but despite his protests, that wasn’t the only thing bothering him. Gideon seemed to have complete disregard for what Jesse was feeling, and that was more confusing than anything else. He had never been so caught up in the greater good he was willing to sacrifice Jesse’s life for it, and now Jess didn’t know how to reconcile this apparent contradiction. He felt like they were in a stalemate. “Emma, can you….can you show him? What I’m feeling?”

Her eyes flew to Gideon, but before he could put up a protest, she slid her hand down to Jesse’s and entwined their fingers, dragging him back to face his lover. She kept Jesse at her back, pulling his hand around to rest it on her stomach. It effectively put them into a half-embrace, but in spite of the added warmth being pressed to her spread through his body, it was the way Gideon’s eyes locked on his that kept him still.

Man, have I been slacking lately?!? Between work and such I just have been lapsing into a world of blah. Maybe I need a vacation but that will have to wait for now I guess.

Anyway, back to the book…

Jamie Craig are back with another chapter of the continuing saga of Gideon, the vampire, and Jesse, his faithful human sidekick. Fighting crime and finding new and interesting ways to use dungeon equipment on each other. As you can tell from the cover wax comes into play in this story and I really liked the idea that a Top would use a dungeon scene to “wax creative” so to speak. Yes, I will not give up my day job promise. Wax on, wax off!

So um… What did I think about it though? Hmmmmmm, this is one of those books I generally re-read several times to focus my thoughts on it, because it is not poorly written at all. The character arc is logical, the motivations are reasonable and the continuity from the other story is wonderfully interwoven. No real indicators can be pointed to as to why I felt cheated.

Well, maybe there is a way I can show you what I mean with some compare and contrast. Let’s switch back to the last book for a moment and review the scene where Jesse was looking through those old pictures of Gideon getting it on and then obviously killing the other men he is shown having sex with. Jesse then confronts Gideon..

“The difference is knowing when to stop and then caring enough to actually do it.” When Gideon snaked his tongue around the shell of Jesse’s ear, a shiver ran down Jess’ spine. “Even when I know how badly you want it.”

Jesse clutched Gideon’s shirt with one hand, his other hand sneaking between their bodies to cup Gideon’s erection. “I’m glad one of us knows when to stop,” he murmured. “Because sometimes I do want it.”

Gideon snorted. “I’m beginning to wonder if your definition of sometimes is the same as Webster’s.”

It was passages like this in the last book that caught my attention and made me enjoy the interplay between the two men. I liked the idea of love and fear being combined to create this hot passionate relationship between a vampire and a human. That control is a battle fought minute by minute.

The crime they investigate reflects the relationship they begin, the deaths caused by the Obsidian drug, a drug that allows vampires to let go and do whatever they have carefully inhibited themselves from doing.

This idea was then reflected in the sudden feelings that spring up between Gideon and Jesse. The idea that Gideon could eventually let go and harm or kill Jesse and that Jesse finds that power over him by Gideon sexually HAWT.

This dynamic is also reflected in the BDSM dynamics they then explore.

All these mirrors within mirrors and dang clever writing made the whole package a must read for me. I got it, a vampire romance with teeth, and I loved it.

Now back to our current story here in Unveiled. Where is the danger to Jesse from Gideon? It seems they have worked it all out and they seem very comfortable with each other now. *sigh* Comfortable enough to explore their feelings about having Emma join them.

But that’s not all, Emma is an empath so their emotions must be carefully explored and mapped. Oh no, that was the uncertainty that I liked about Jesse and Gideon. The power Gideon has over life and death, the unknown depths he must possess, the dance of danger they both participate in based on the fact that one could easily kill the other. The romance between the savage animal and his prey.

I saw the pulling of the vampires teeth reflected even in the crime they investigated in Unveiled. I swear, I never once felt Jesse was in any real danger and the excerpt above came across to me more like Jesse was bitching about the taking of necessary risks and not about going above and beyond the risks he took in the last book. Maybe in thinking about it showing Jesse’s POV during the events may have helped make it more real… I don’t know maybe it is just me.

This is not a black and white deal though. The story is well written and the characters growing to find some comfort level around each other makes perfect sense. I guess I just wanted the danger of the unknown, the dark hint of threat in every bite, to remain a little longer which is my own bias. I also like dark chocolate so…

I will be reading the next book in the series that just came out Mosaic Moon.

I am giving this book a B because honestly I think the problems I have are with my own expectations and not with what you wrote.

Liquid Silver Anthology: Boundless

Boundless by Annie Dean ~ Bonnie Dee ~ Dionne Galace
From: Liquid Silver

Nothing about the old neighborhood had changed. Same rusty cars, same broken chain link fences, same tired houses with peeling paint or weathered siding. Teresa didn’t know why it mattered, but she hated for him to see where she came from. She tried to cover it with small talk. “When the mill closed, it hit people pretty hard. The area just hasn’t been the same since.”

A lot of things would never be the same. He didn’t offer his hand or words of comfort. If she wanted tenderness, she’d need to ask. Unless she presented him with overt cues, reading such things wouldn’t come easily to Dev. When would he have practiced? As they walked, she counted broken streetlamps. Dogs rummaged in nearby alleys. Beneath the heavy web of ugly electrical wires, quiet despair ruled these streets. The house looked exactly as she remembered it too: a dilapidated ranch with a detached garage done in bile-green siding. Two overgrown hedges nearly obscured the driveway and the half fence her dad had erected to keep out the neighbor’s dogs stood at a drunken angle in the front yard.

He seemed to read her expression. “Some flowers can thrive anywhere, Tess.”

Ben still kept the spare key beneath the mat on the front stoop, so she let them in. “He’s probably still at Graterford.”

Stepping over the threshold sent a cold chill through her. When she left here at eighteen, she’d hoped never to return. At twenty-four, the house seemed smaller than she recalled, tiny rooms, dingy walls and low ceilings. She flicked on the overhead light, noted the dirt caked inside the cheap plastic fixture. Her dad’s tweed recliner still sat before the TV. The stain where she’d spilled her grape Kool-Aid too. The place smelled faintly musty, a touch of mildew in the walls. From the living room she could either turn left down the hall toward the bedrooms or pass straight into the kitchen. Black and white linoleum. Teresa drew up short, her whole body taut. Seeing that floor hit much harder than remembering it. For a moment she thought she might be sick.

Dev spoke her nightmare aloud. “She died there.” Not a question. “You found her.”

“Yeah.” It took all her self-control to get the word out.

“Your father murdered her.” His voice sounded cool and remote. Except for the intense glitter of his eyes, she might even believe he felt nothing.

“Shut up.”

“He promised to love and cherish her. Instead he beat her to death with his fists.”

“Shut up!”

In two strides he crossed the living room and stood with her in the doorway to the kitchen. Side by side, but not touching. “That’s why I don’t affect you,” he said, as if in realization. “You’re almost completely armored by fear. He’s why you ran all the way to British Columbia, why you worked so hard to find somewhere you’d be safe.”

“You don’t know anything about it.” The words felt wrenched from her. She wanted to hurt him as he was hurting her, digging deep into the ragged edges of a wound she’d believed to be healed. “He caught her with another man, Dev. She came home with his sweat on her skin, his…”

“So she deserved to die? Did your God bestow the right of judgment on your father, Tess? And because your mother was a whore, you must be a Madonna? Because you were so afraid you’d turn out like her, afraid your father would find a reason to come for you next?”

Seven Days ~ Annie Dean

I am not a huge fan of reviewing an anthology due to the fact half the time you are simply telling people over and over again that they should have written a novel and they should have had better pacing. How boring is that? “Trick or Treat!”

I promise, I will try and ignore pacing problems and simply look at the stories written.

So, I was reading this paranormal about this girl Teresa about to take her vows to become a nun when she gets a visit from this sexy, demon, dragon, dude named Dev and then near the end of all that… BOOM! I was suddenly in the middle of this hard biting contemporary story that was like ten times more awesome.

How did that happen? All this dark stuff just rained down from the heavens. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, but it was an abrupt and sudden change of pace. So let’s just say the paranormal elements were OK but somewhat used with a tad whiff of wish fulfillment especially when they up and fly to Paris.

It was the neat unexpected back story about Teresa that caught my attention and made me want a whole different story. One that was dark and contemporary and damn good. So I will be checking out Annie’s future stories for that to happen.

Annie Dean if you ever get the chance pick up J. G. Hayes ~ This Thing Called Courage because he has a writing voice very similar to yours when writing about the same type of people. His stories are about working class gay guys but the backgrounds and areas they live in are similar. I guess I would describe it as cold, dark, urban blight, with a dollop of humanity and very realistic people surviving despite their surroundings.

You would probably be most excellent at a similar style with admittedly more romance and less tragic endings involved. Hey, let’s all agree that we have tons of writers doing paranormal romance because fantasy is just easier but very few writers can pull off this type of convincing realism in a contemporary story. I say, Go for the gusto girl!

She gazed across the pumpkin patch toward the dry stalks of field corn, rattling and whispering their secrets to one another. There were many pumpkins left among the twisting vines and she wished she’d taken more to market. The number of direct-sell customers visiting the farm was down this year and pumpkins were practically unmarketable after Halloween was past.

Her gaze shifted to her scarecrow. “Well, another summer over. We may have actually made enough from the corn and soybeans and the stupid pumpkins to pay the taxes and heat the house this winter. Maybe even buy groceries, woo-hoo!”

Sam frowned down at her.

“Yes, I know, you were hoping for a Cancun holiday. Me too. Sometimes I’d like to sell this place, move to the city and never see anything except asphalt and tall buildings again.”

Again she looked across the fields at the stand of woods that marked her property line. Gold, orange and an occasional scarlet maple flamed in contrast to trees with dark green leaves that hadn’t yet changed. One of the neighbors was burning leaves and a smudge of smoke blossomed against the sky. Marie could smell it from a quarter mile away, sharp and tangy. It smelled like fall and made her crave a cup of cider and a doughnut. No, she wouldn’t really give up her land, but lately a need for change took hold of her and shook her like a north wind rattling the eaves on a blustery day.

The need for something new was so strong inside her today that it almost felt as if she was poised on the cusp of a great void, about to take a plunge. It was an odd feeling, and silly, because nothing was going to happen. Nothing ever did. Tomorrow she’d wake up to the same life as today.

“I should put in sunflowers next year. They’re a big seller.” She pointed out to Sam, picturing a sea of yellow faces turned to the sun, moving in unison to track the passing of yet another day. The image depressed the hell out of her.

“Next year. Will anything be different? Or will I still be sitting here talking to you?” She glared at the scarecrow. He gazed impassively back at her.

“Stupid, useless thing. You can’t even keep the crows out of the corn. What good are you?” She rested her chin on her hand, elbows on knees and stared glumly ahead. She had to get out more. Holding conversations with inanimate dummies was a little too Anthony Perkins in Psycho. At only thirty-two Marie already felt old and worn out, too exhausted to face the dating game. She’d tried all the unattached, local men she knew and no one was the one. Lately, she rarely went out with anyone except her female friends. Meeting a guy at a club in the city was even worse. You set yourself up for a one-night stand, not a relationship, and at this stage in her life Marie was more than ready for the real deal, someone who wanted to share a life and not just a night with her. She examined the straw-padded body and stern face of the scarecrow.

“If you were a real man, you’d know that I just insulted you. You wouldn’t stand for being called useless and you’d come down from there and show me just how useful you could be.”

If you were a real man.

The Straw Man – Bonnie Dee

Marie is a gentle soul living in the rural hinterlands, which is close to the winterlands but with less available men that come complete with all their body parts. Anyway, it is Halloween and that don’t mean a thing when she ain’t got that swing. Doo-wop Doo-wop.
So singing Disney tunes “When you wish upon some straw. Makes no difference how horny you are…”

Anyway, Sam “I’m Just A Love Machine” Strawman shows up to pound at her back door that night and boy does he scare some crows away. Sam brings new meaning to the term “straight on till morning” and Marie is heart broken when his cock is blocked by the rising sun. I am so there with her as she lays in that muddy corn field praying to the corn dog heavens to bring back her sometin sometin.

Hey, anybody who has ever been stranded in outer Mongolia or Baker, Oregon has been there, especially since the local male population is covered head to toe in bear grease and shuns the use of Right Guard. Even gay men are not that desperate. Well they are , but even they have standards. You are stuck with mail order and lets just admit that Amazon and Walmart do not carry “ALL YOUR NEEDS”.

Bonnie Dee rocks in making sure this feels like the whole story and nothing but the story, so help her God. Great pacing (oops) and a sweet candy corn ending for all.

The woman looked up at him with interest and Jack felt as though he had been punched in the gut. She had the look of an old-school Hollywood bombshell mixed with a Japanese anime character. She was a sex kitten, an innocent schoolgirl, and two fingers of straight-up, single-match scotch rolled into one. Jack felt like dragging her into a dark alley for a quick fuck, then asking her out to a nice steak dinner afterward. He couldn’t recall ever feeling quite like this in his entire life.

Her heavily lashed, almond-shaped eyes were shockingly violet and something told Jack they weren’t contact lenses. Damn, a man could fall into those eyes and never want to crawl back out. He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. “Jack Ridley, KTCI News. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She ignored his hand and pursed her lips, raking her eyes from his scruffy boots to the top of his head. No doubt she was wondering if she should talk to him or mace him in the face and run away screaming. Her violet gaze settled for a moment on the scar on his forehead before moving on to meet his eyes. “Why aren’t you all suited up and wearing a tie like those other guys?” She tilted her head toward the other reporters talking to the crowd.

There was sexual appreciation in her eyes and Jack’s jeans became uncomfortably tight. He had to resist the urge to reach down and adjust himself. “I do the pre-interviews. I make sure that what you have to say deserves to be on the eleven o’clock news before I have you talk to our correspondent.”

She sucked her lower lip between her small, white teeth as she looked at him as though trying to decide if he was legit or not. “Hmm…”

Jack swallowed hard as the tip of her tongue peeked out to touch the corner of her full mouth. She was wearing a light pink lipstick and a generous amount of lip-gloss.
“Can you tell me what happened…” His gaze dropped to her nametag. “Kitty?”

“Like I told your crew, Jack…” She nodded at something behind him and took a step toward him to place her small, pale hand on the sleeve of his brown bomber jacket. “I was only a few feet away when it happened. One minute I had a pounding headache and wishing I could go home already and the next, I was flying across the bar. When I came to, the boat was there. There was, like … a flash of light before it happened.”

“Yeah, I heard. Like Star Trek.” He didn’t have to look behind him to know his crew was at his back. Tiff made a joke he couldn’t hear and Kenny snickered in response. He ignored the both of them. “If this boat just popped up right there in the middle of the bar, what happened to the people sitting there? They weren’t injured?”

“No.” She reached up to snag a lock of hair that had slipped out of her bun and tucked it behind her ear. “They were … um … just kind of pushed to the side. Some people were flung out of the way like me, but all I got was a scratch.” She pointed to the white bandage taped to her elbow. “Some people think it’s…” She hesitated and stopped.

“What?” Jack prodded patiently.

She bit her lip again and touched her neck with long, graceful fingers. Her nails were painted black. “It’s silly, but some people think it’s aliens returning a ship they took out of the Bermuda Triangle.” She took another step closer and leaned her head toward him as though to sniff him. “Could you spare a smoke? I quit an eternity ago, but after the night I’ve had, I think I deserve one.”

Jack reached for his pack and pulled out a stick. He meant to hand it to her, but she tilted her head toward him and parted her lips. He groaned inwardly. Was she playing with him? She had to know what she was doing to him. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple down the side of his face, but somehow he managed to bring the cigarette to her mouth. Her lips formed a smile around the filter, her violet eyes sparkling. He took out his lighter to light it for her, but before he could get it to work, the tip of the cigarette flared to life. Her eyes widened in shock. With a shaking hand, she took the cigarette out of her mouth and stared at it in wonder. “That’s some trick. How did you do it?”

Waking Kitty – Dionne Galace

Dear Dionne Galace,

I loved it. Kitty, the waitress with the pink hair and body by Mattel meets Jack, our pill popping, hard headed hero, and then things get really weird. Yeah, I saw Philip K. Dick meets Bubblegum Crisis a mile away and then some. Quite frankly we need more, more of this fine craziness damn it. I wanted Megatokyo and Boomers and the brother constantly looking up her dress even. OK, I did not get them, but demons or dragons or whatever were cool.

Listen Shomi ain’t out on eBook yet. So it is time to take the first punch. You realize if P.K. Dick actually had done a romance it would have been all Twin Peaks and would have given the reader no idea if the people having the sex were the people that were introduced at the beginning or the people that got the HEA. Because he would have had to point out the fragile nature of our concept of reality and our tenuous hold on it at best. So thank you for the restraint.

If I was gonna bitch, there was just a ton of things going on and I think it was the short story format that drew away from the meat of the “I am Tarzan, you are Jane” parts disrupting our chance to see them getting to know each other better in order to sell the HEA. I had fun watching you make your moves and build the tension though and figuring out where you were going was a hopeless task.

I can’t wait to see you fly with a whole book of your own. You are full of awesome.

Now for the grade, despite my noted anthology allergy… Well Grade B is for Boundless and a joy to read.

Jo Carlisle: Raina’s Fantasy

Raina’s Fantasy by Jo Carlisle
From: Ellora’s Cave

First principles, Clarice. Simplicity. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?

You know who I was rooting for in Silence of The Lambs? You might think it was Clarice Starling but you would be wrong. Sure it was Jodie Foster’s best movie role but she did not sell me her character. You know who made her shine? Dr. Hannibal Lecter made her shine, and that is who I was left rooting for at the end of the movie, not Clarice. It’s all about liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.

The way it worked so well for me was that Dr. Hannibal Lecter was not an idiot, he was not some raging monster, he functioned incredibly well and interacted very intelligently far more so than any other character in that movie and even Clarice noted he had honor. He just did not share our sense of right and wrong, our social taboos. He ate people. Yet you and I wanted him to have an HEA at the end of that film. Oh, come on admit it.

Jo Carlisle, creator of Drakkon, come on down!

What shall I say about this story? OK here is what Jo initially sets up for us.

Johan Stone, Alpha Supreme, and his faithful yet sick side kick Zane Ramsey, are discredited Warriors (fantasy world cops) and Zane is starting to succumb to pneumonia while still looking good in a g-string. So Johan has a bright idea to sell their asses into slavery.
Vampire Queen Raina Zharov out bids the evil demon Drakkon and makes our boys her slaves.

Zane is totally into the slave thing they have fallen into and even the homo sex with his best buddy turns him on big time. With both feet he jumps right in. Johann on the other hand is ALPHA, so no go on the slave show. That is until he figures out that him and missy Vampire Queen got a thing going on. So basically the first half of this book you get this…

He’d do anything for Raina. For Zane.
Anything at all, no matter the cost to himself.
Was this…love?
Yes, he’d always loved Zane. Raina had him pegged on that score. If not for the extraordinary circumstances they’d found themselves in, would he ever have expressed those feelings toward Zane physically? Probably not.
But what about Raina? Truth be told, she’d done nothing but try to protect her men since she’d rescued them from Lash and whisked them from Drakkon’s clutches. She’d tried to comfort him, to convince him she wasn’t the enemy. Had worried over their safety as they’d gone into the night poorly armed to search for a killer. With Zane’s and Alexi’s help, she’d healed him from the demon attack, then saved his sanity when the ardin merged with his DNA.
Being the Vampire Queen, she must conduct herself in accordance with the law, but she wasn’t at all selfish and cold as she’d have others believe. Raina was sexually free, compassionate, beautiful—
Two truths hit Johan between the eyes like twin hammers.
Hadn’t he already guessed? The thread glowed brighter between him and Raina, illuminating his heart and soul, every fiber of his being, because she was…his mate. My mate! He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he did. The other truth?
Johan, former warrior-turned-slave, was falling hard for Raina Zharov.
Gods, how is this possible? My Queen, my mistress, my mate.
And he didn’t have a fucking clue how to avoid becoming entangled in her silken web. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. Too late. Damn it to Hades, he should leave. Take his chances and just go, as soon as possible.
At once, the bond screamed in protest and terror, a white-hot lance skewering his brain. The beast added to the cacophony, roaring in displeasure, coiling his muscles into a knot at the very idea of abandoning his mate. Mine!
Gritting his teeth, Johan gripped the chains and rode the agony, muttering a foul oath. Didn’t Raina know the shackles at his wrists and ankles were no longer necessary?
His own traitorous heart had performed the task just fine.
Trapped like the animal he’d become, with no way out.

Yeah, I know. Me ALPHA, you mate! Let’s fuck! *yawn*

But then, Jo gets us to chapter 16 and Missy Mate the Vampire Queen has a little public confrontation with Drakkon the Demon King…

“You consume human flesh, Drakkon. That’s wrong on so many levels, I can’t even begin.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely baffled. “If a group of middle-class humans pickets a meat-packing plant with signs declaring ‘save the cows’, they’re dismissed as weirdoes. I, on the other hand, perform a service to humans and shifters by cleansing the earth of their lesser brethren. Through the slave system, I dispose of career criminals and other foul wretches no one wants littering the streets. They are my cows, if you will. The choice slaves I use for sex, same as any upper-class member. And I do all of this legally. Why is that wrong, yet your consumption of human blood and ownership of that lovely thrall isn’t?”
Zane glanced down at his mistress from under his lashes. The demon hit a nerve. Her lips were drawn into a grim line, her face taut with anger. The scary thing was, every word he’d said was true. A prime example of what made Drakkon such a dangerous enemy, of how he kept the Council in his corner. Smooth talker with a forked tongue. Typical politician.
“Touché. Be that as it may, I’m not here to debate with you. I’ve come to propose a trade, one of mutual benefit to us both.”

My bored mind suddenly came awake and my pop culture sensibilities came alive and I was… Oh Jo! You are not going there, are you girl?!

Oh and she did, oh she did! She has Zane, the happy thrall, get corrupted by Hannibal Drakkon!

Oh Clarice NO!

“Mercy,” he croaked.
“No, because you do not want me to stop. Tell me what you really desire. Say it!”
“H-h-hurt me…please…”
The strikes redoubled, falling with ruthless precision. Each one sent shocks to his dick. The fog thickened until he reached and found the prize. Rapture.
“Yes, yesss,” he sobbed.
As if sensing he’d broken the thrall at last, Drakkon tossed aside the whip. He dragged two fingers through the blood on Zane’s skin and came to stand in front of him once more. Slashing open his own wrist, he watched as the dark liquid beaded on the surface. He rubbed the crimson fingers into his wrist, mingling their blood, then held his wrist to Zane’s lips.
“Taste.”
On instinct, Zane tried to avert his head. Restrained as he was, Drakkon dabbed his lips with little effort and out of sheer reflex, Zane’s tongue flicked out to clean off the droplets.
“Ohh!” His heart and lungs seized, his brain spinning. He’d never mainlined heroin, had avoided that deadly Venus flytrap, but this is exactly what he imagined the high to be like. An addictive rush bleeding to every fiber, carrying him toward his destiny, black and final.
When the demon’s wrist touched his lips again Zane didn’t resist. He latched on hungrily, drinking with greedy swallows, loving the heady nectar pouring down his throat. Taking the essence of his master inside him.
“Now you are mine,” the demon approved, stroking Zane’s hair with his free hand. “We will keep our secret for a while, but I am your master in truth. Only I will be able quench the dark fire burning within you. After tonight, I will stay away until your urgency to submit to my touch drives you mad, until your sanity hovers on the brink. And when I call, you’ll come to me eagerly. Beautiful thrall…mine forever.”
“Yours, my lord, to do with as you wish,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the beloved hand. The awesome instrument of sadistic cruelty, carnality stripped to its most primal elements.
What am I saying? What have I done?
Drakkon smiled, caressing his cheek. “That’s right, sweet boy. The others will try to fill your head with lies about me, but you will not listen. If you betray me, you’ll accomplish nothing but your own destruction because your body and soul cannot survive without me. Have I given you anything except what you so desperately need?”
“No, my lord.”
“Have I done anything to your delicious body that you did not desire?”
He closed his eyes. “No.”
The hand left his face and he felt the absence of the sensual touch like a physical blow. Blinking, he sought his captor…and sucked in an appreciative breath. Drakkon stood naked in his most human form, clothing vanished. Ebony hair tumbled past his shoulders, framed his massive, gorgeous chest. He was all muscled perfection and olive skin. The enormous penis jutting between his thighs and the weighty orbs beneath testified he wasn’t anywhere near human. In true demon form, supersized all over, could Zane house all of that magnificent length?
A feral, determined expression hardened Drakkon’s face. He stepped around the rack, positioning himself behind his prey. He parted Zane’s ass, nudging his tight hole. Pushed in just the head, teasing. “My thrall.”
“Please,” he begged, reason gone. “If you don’t take me, I’ll die.”
“Never forget it.”

YES! Fucking YES!

My inner editor came out during the standing ovation and wanted Jo to go back shift as much as possible to Zane’s POV, dump a couple of characters, and let Missy Vampire Queen and Johann (I’m an ALPHA) do their thing on the back burner. *yawn* Zane was the one I needed to watch slowly be setup for the downfall.

So you see, this is not a perfect book. None of the other sex scenes besides the one in chapter 16 hit me because everybody recovered so easily from the dramatic moments. Even the straight guy, Johann (I’m an ALPHA DAMN IT!) and his side kick Zane fucking away did not register because there was no real solid angst to hang off of, no moments of OMG, before or after. I was not really sold any sense of trepidation.

But… this wonderful Demon King and Zane? Oh hell yes!
When Drakkon is impressed with Zane all hung up and ready to fuck crying for him to “do me Daddy” in his native form, he did not want a bed time story, that was true love right there baby.

I could really tell where this writer was having fun and honestly if this is her fun then honey take those old Romance rules in both hands and go *SNAP*. If I wanted safe I would not be buying eBooks, I would buy Harlequins. Jo, you had me begging for you to turn the tables on my ass and let the bad guy and his angst ridden corrupted love slave get the HEA. All Romance says is there has to be an HEA, it does not say WHO gets one.

I suddenly wanted a whole book dedicated to Zane as he betrays his (cardboard cut-out) friends at the whims of his Dark Lord and Master, Drakkon the Evil Demon King. I want that sweet sweet evil demon lovin PLEASE.
They are that good together.

I have argued with myself over this grade girl. This is may have not been in your plans Jo but you hit on some great characters in the second half and saved this dang book from an average score.
Great villains with great sex scenes deserve Grade B at the least.

Evangeline Anderson: Eyes Like A Wolf

Eyes Like A Wolf by Evangeline Anderson
From: Loose-Id

“Oh, Richard…” I disengaged from the hug, feeling like I was going to cry. I’d had enough drama in my life for one night; I needed to get control of myself. “How’s Dad?” I asked to change the subject. “Are you two still close?”

“He’s…Rachel, I’m sorry but he’s dead.” Richard sank onto the couch, and I sat beside him, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

“When…when did he die?” I managed to ask. So much for no more drama.

“A few years after Mom took you away.” Richard’s voice was low and troubled. “He, uh…he committed suicide.”

“No.” I put a hand over my mouth, my eyes wide.
He nodded. “I’m afraid so. He just, well…he couldn’t live without her.”

“Couldn’t he have found someone else? Someone new?” I still couldn’t believe it. My father, the strong, black-haired man with the deep voice and the warm scent of aftershave and cigars…my father was dead. Dead so many years and I had never known it until now.

“There was no one else for him but her. Just like there’s no one else –” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll spare you the trauma and let you know that I know Mom’s gone, too.”

“She passed away almost three years ago,” I said dully. “Some kind of fast-acting cancer. It was all through her almost before we knew anything was wrong. She got the diagnosis and a month later…” I shook my head.
Richard looked troubled. “That’s fast, all right. I’m sorry, Rache.”

How hot is this book? To quote the remarkable Robin Williams from Good Morning Vietnam. “It’s hot. Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest thing is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking.”

Rachel Kemet and Richard Kemet are Amon-kai. Raised as brother and sister. Rachel was kidnapped by her mother in an act of betrayal and kept away from her father and adopted brother and taught to deny her heritage as Amon-kai (Egyptian Werewolves).

Seventeen years, three months, and five days later her brother Richard comes to Tampa and promptly gets into trouble thus running into Rachel, an Assistant District Attorney, at the police station while under questioning. Rachel who is getting married in a month, immediately invites her brother to stay at her place despite the protests of her fiance.

Charles Rivera, her fiance, has every right to be worried. Rachel by getting back in touch with her brother will also be getting back in touch with her heritage and the fact that she is Richard’s Lana-zeel and he is her Lanor-zur. (Are carved in Lapis Lazuli… oops Yeats moment there. Wooo, that was close.) Charles is getting cock blocked but good. Soon Richard will be in her bed and luring his mate into breeding with him.

Oh man, I swear people use the paranormal category to get away with stuff that would never pass muster otherwise. Please keep in mind at all times while reading this book that Richard is her “adopted brother” and your tray in an upright locked position… What did you just say? You are just plain sick, hear me, shame on you! The sex scenes in this book are “hot hot hot” which is also a really good remixed Cure song. Evangeline Anderson is working that Werewolf sex thang for all it is worth here.

So, the sex is hot and the guy is hot but did I have problems with the rest of the story? I mean it is violent, and you will find out why Richard has hunted his dear sister down and it is not just for the great sex. It might also be because he turns into a mindless homicidal werewolf during full moons and the only thing that can stop him is a little sisterly lovin. Egyptian Werewolves are freaks like that.

One of the noticeable problems I had is with the “no means yes”. Seems every sex scene between Rachel and her humpalicious brother Richard included the word NO and the word STOP and the letter OOOOH, again and again. Even as a gay man who has said “No, a thousand times no!” to a big bruiser in bed only to later allow him to ravish my delicate behind (HAH!), it really started to irk me out. I guess she did not want to come across as a major slut yelling “Do me now Moondoggy, I’ll be your Gidget forevers!”. Rachel just overplays this stuff and seems to feel being Amon-kai makes her queen of denial. She denies just about everything…

“That’s enough!” I pulled away from him suddenly, sitting up in bed, heedless of the fact that he could see my bare breasts. “Don’t, Richard,” I told him, holding up a hand when he would have gathered me into his arms. “Don’t. We can’t — it’s wrong.”

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, his eyes glowing green in the darkness of the room. “It’s just that I…I missed you so much, Rache.”

I knew it was more than that — more than missing — more than longing for whatever it was that we had had as children that was now perhaps lost to us forever. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself or to Richard.

“Let’s just…just go to sleep.” I fumbled for my nightshirt, suddenly aware of my state of undress.

“Wait…” He put out a hand to stop me. “Let me just…let me look at you for a minute. You’re so beautiful, Rachel, so absolutely gorgeous. I just want to look, I swear.”

“All — all right,” I said at last. Lowering my crumpled nightshirt to my lap, I let him see me, let him drink in the sight of me bare-breasted in the dim light of my room.

“Goin’ on a spider hunt,” he said softly, trailing one long finger over my full breasts and down to the shivering cup of my navel. “X marks the spot.”

But instead of marking an X on my trembling flesh, he cupped my naked breasts in his hands, rubbing gently over my tight nipples with his thumbs until I had to bite back a moan.

“You said…you said you just wanted to look,” I accused him in a breathless whisper. I wanted to pull away from him, but somehow I didn’t feel able.

“I can’t help myself,” he murmured, still stroking the tight nubs of my sensitive nipples. “I need to touch you, Rachel. Even if it’s just to play a child’s game.”

I don’t think it was lost on either of us that what we were doing was much more serious than any game we’d played as children. From somewhere deep inside of me, I found the strength to pull away from him and slip my nightshirt back over my head.

“No more ‘spider hunt’ tonight,” I said. “Okay?”

“All right.” He made as though to leave the bed, but I pulled him back, unable to let him go no matter what forbidden thing had just happened or almost happened between us.
“Just hold me,” I told him. “Hold me and let’s go to sleep.”

Richard lay with me cupped in the curve of his body in the old familiar way. But when his hands traveled under my nightshirt and cupped the bottom curves of my breasts, I somehow couldn’t stop him. Even when he stroked my nipples with gentle fingers, I didn’t say a word, although I told myself I would if he tried anything else. To my mingled relief and disappointment, he didn’t try to go any further. But I felt a hot hardness pressing against the back of my thighs, reminding me that the innocence of our childhood was gone forever even as he stroked me to sleep.

After more than a few moments like this and even up to the very last pages of the book Rachel’s denial makes her character seem fucking weak for a lawyer. Richard saved her sorry ass several times and god damn it, instead of moral outrage, I wanted her to show the stud some sort of obligation to try and overcome her inner (The man is my brother I shall not want. Oh look at his shiny hard magically delicious cock.) turmoil and at least throw him a bone.

I am not even so sure on the HEA here. Rachel, like her mother, might take off on poor old brother Richard eventually. The ongoing protests and the constant denial well, it undercut my trust in her judgment and frankly it undermined her change of heart at the very end of the book as believable and long lasting. No matter how many paragraphs were used to justify the switch.

But! STOP, NO, WAIT, OOOOOOOH! This book is still well worth picking up. Richard is magically delicious (Yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers!) and the sex is hotter than any of the current run of the mill books I have bought lately and damn it all, if I can overlook her, you can overlook her. Just like you can overlook everything bad I just said because the “no means yes” and the sisterly lovin is fun, and the attempted fiance rape scene… well hey, Charles needed to go bye bye. Richard’s knotty dick of death made for a great diversion.

Come on sis, you know you want it.

Grade B as in buy it!

Sienna Black: To Touch The Stars

To Touch The Stars by Sienna Black
From: Liquid Silver

The air around him cooled as Talkirk moved away. Lucan wondered whether the man really put out heat or if he imagined it, just a trick of the mind. That too would take some testing. Investigating.
His thoughts centered in his cock again. He thumped his head gently against the wall where he leaned. He had lived twenty Cycles. He’d proved himself adept, controlled. He could ignore any distraction and yet one touch from this coarse man and he could hardly think for wanting.
The staff clattered to the floor, somewhere across the room. Glass rasped against wood, then Talkirk poured something liquid. “Sit.”
Lucan shook his head. “Do you always give orders?”
There was a pause. Utter silence from the big man. Lucan could hear the sounds of the cairn outside in the quiet. Then Talkirk moved, settling down in front of him. “I’m Talkirk,” he answered. “I don’t have to ask.”
Lucan grinned. Another battle for another day. He straightened off the wall. “Then where would you like me to sit?”
“Here. With me.”
Straight ahead. Lucan stepped forward. Two paces, three, then his toe caught a riser and he stumbled forward. He caught his weight on his hands and knees, sinking into a thick mattress.
Talkirk was half a breath away. Lucan heard him inhale. Felt the rumble before he heard it. His pulse kicked up, beating hard at the base of his throat. Talkirk exhaled, hot against his cheek and asked, “When were you going to tell me you were blind?”

Sienna Black is not a well known author in M/M Romance but she should be, the few books I have read have amazed me in their quality and complexity of the characters and the worlds she creates. This new book To Touch The Stars from Liquid Silver Books is simply yet another example of her powers as a writer.

Lucan, a blind pureblood from The Warren, an underground society, wanders out of the waste to pledge his support to Talkirk Cymren leader of those surface dwellers who live in The Cairn. The Talkirk likes men and makes sure when Lucan offers himself and his services that it means everything. There is an immediate sexual tension between the two warriors and the book hits it right off with a very hot sex scene. Their immediate connection though is not a bed of roses. Others like Delano, The Talkirks second in command, and Athel, The Talkirk’s favorite lover, understandably worry about Lucan’s motives and his loyalty.

The world building here is stunning. The characters are complex and the only bad part of this whole book is it’s short length and the lack of back story for each of these characters we are introduced to. Sienna even jokes about us someday knowing how Athel became The Talkirk’s lover. I know I wanted to hear that story too because none of these characters were written as throw-aways. These characters breath and have underlying and even conflicting motives at times.

The BDSM in this story is not in your face but the relationship dynamics are there though. The sex is raw and even the Ménage à Trois sex scenes are very masculine and the society is highly militaristic and warrior oriented so there is no overwhelmingly tender emotional drama in evidence here. You come away feeling at the end, they did not so much win the battle but simply survived long enough to face another day. I loved this!

Will Lucan realize his dreams? Will Talkirk live a long and healthy life with Lucan and Athel by his side? Will Delano, The Talkirk’s ex-lover and second in command, come to terms with this new Ménage relationship?

I wanted more, I felt this book was far too short and I hope maybe someday to see a longer more complete revision or even a sequel for these people and this fascinating world. Sienna Black you are not only an excellent writer and an extremely kind person but you are so damn good at telling a story it’s scary and please let me know what’s the next book. I will be waiting.

Grade B, as in Got To Be More!

What do others think…
Elisa Rolle
Joyfully Reviewed

Amelia Elias: Chosen

Chosen by Amelia Elias
From: Samhain

I bought all three of these dang books from Samhain yesterday Amelia Elias and read them through the night. I wanted you to know that in case I seem a wee bit cranky and maybe even exhausted as I sit here attempting to review them in the middle of my work day nightmare. But I will dang it!

So let’s get right to the latest one from Samhain…

Chosen, the third book in The Guardians’ League series, takes us to New Orleans and introduces us to Gareth Ambrocio, Patriarch of the Arachnid Clan (Meat Packers Local #666) and Alexa London an ICU nurse and part time dhampyr. Alexa does a body shot off our bad boy Patriarch at the Bourbon Street Vamp watering hole and sparks fly. Well sparks and a roving gang of Outcasts and some religious fanatics called Templars and then Eli and Renee show up on their honeymoon. Well, if you can’t tell it gets a bit complicated.

The fun part is Alexa not buying the poor home boy Gareth’s story about being a Vampire, until she gets attacked that is. Those bad, evil, nasty, Outcasts! But love conquers all, even the rare elusive dhampyr it seems.

This book just seemed to breeze by with no outrageous mistakes to cut short my enjoyment, not like book two of The Guardians’ League was… but we will talk about Outcast in good time.

All in all, I loved Chosen. It’s not a short story (280 pages) but I finished this thing in like maybe 4 hours and I rushed off in search of the rest the series. Chosen is fast paced, tightly plotted, hot and sexy in all the good Vampire ways and best of all the world they inhabit is dark and scary, and has a logic that makes sense. I am totally on Alexa’s side about the whole “Dame Matron” deal. That’s not a rank or title, that’s a punch line.

I will say that it is evident that the next book is probably going to be around Jenyssa aka Nyssa and Ronin which should be interesting seeing as how Ronin has not done much in the series but grunt and kill things so far. Oh, and he shed that single tear over the baby. The big manly grunting softy.

So I just had to go pick up the first book in the series to find out what I missed…

Hunted is the first book of The Guardians’ League series. We start off in beautiful San Francisco although we do not see much of my fair city. Why do people bother writing about this town without showing it off. I mean even Anne Rice shorted us with the Vampire in San Francisco writing thingy, now she’s writing “Jesus stories” so that should tell you something right there. The point is, I know more about what New Orleans looks like than I do San Francisco and we are a pretty place. Just do not breath in through your nose while down town and you’ll think we are the fairest jewel of all US tourist traps. Urine Town! Boo-Yah!

Anyway, here we meet Diego Leonides Patriarch of The Panther Clan, and former prince of Spain, and Sian Lazuro, bad driver, former cop and full time mob target. Sian runs into Diego with her Mini Cooper and almost does herself in as well. Diego, the studly Vampire hero he is, helps her get it back together only to have Eli (His big boss man Head Vampire) catch him in bed with her. Eli works a whammy and next thing you know they are “bondmates” with matching arm tats. I thought that was a very expensive and yet considerate wedding gift for the new couple but Diego did not seem all that thrilled in the least.
Sucker! Heh, Get it? Vampire… sucker… *sigh*

Sian is not too happy either, since she trusts no one first and asks questions later. Not since dear old dad got the bullet meant for her. Oops, sorry. I hate spoiling all that angst. So, she fights with Diego “the sexy” in a continual verbal battle that gets a little forced near the end of the book. I mean after the first big sex scene she should have tuned it down a little bit there but then we find out she’s a dhampyr so maybe that was the problem. Maybe she’s upset that dhampyr’s are not as rare and elusive as they are made out to be? Maybe she needs to feel special?

It was after Hunted that Eli started to get to me. I liked him. He was dark and mysterious and all powerful and a hoot. He came across as a very well written secondary character in both these books and the best part was after reading both the third and first books in the series I realized Amelia had done the impossible and had not made these stories dependent on each other. I figured it out by watching the secondary characters interact. You could pick up either of these books and read only one and feel you had gotten the whole story even with the underlying running interplay between the characters. Amelia never relies on past story lines or those “remember when” moments at any time so you could read Hunted or simply buy Chosen, the new book, and enjoy, it does not matter and that my friends is pure writing talent. Thanks Amelia!

Now the bad side of this review… on to Outcast.

Oh my my my!

Have you ever read a book, liked it, but about halfway through started to get a sinking feeling when the writer began to color in the hero and the back story sucked?

Sorry Amelia, I got that horrible feeling here in Outcast the second book of The Guardians’ League series. I mean, I already loved Eli. He was tall, very dark “character wise”, handsome, a wild card that came and went any way he pleased and was far far more powerful than any of the Vampires you introduced us to and far far more knowledgeable. In fact so much so the others stood in awe of Eli.

I liked him already. You did not have to do a dang thing to make him better. Then you wrote this book about him and his romance with Renee Hardin whom Eli watches get attacked and turned into a Vampire by the evil, nasty, vicious, Outcasts. Eli is guilt ridden with ages of issues and baggage beyond belief. The whole “sire” thing was a smart move. Even making Eli “THE OLDEST” Vampire was pretty much in keeping with what you had already written and more than one of your other main characters has suspected as much. That was logical, really, believable too.

But the whole Eli “God Thing”! The whole Eli “Greek God Thing”! Oh my my my my…

Nope, that explanation just fell flat. It was dead in the water from the get go. Greek Mythology is rife with Disney-fication amongst other things. It is not as dark or mysterious as say Egyptian Mythology (Eh no, Anne Rice did that one already. Sorry, but the great thing is she will never write another page and a half description of a room with an open window again. Woohoo!) or hell, Sumerian Mythology. Yeah, next time try Sumerian Mythology. Or just write your own, this is fiction you know. The other problem was Eli became way too powerful. The balance got lost with the modern day story setting and the whole story fell over.

Eli would have been the perfect “imperfect god”. He could have been the first Vampire and not really known why he was created or how and the story could have taken an even darker and more realistic turn with the lack of answers. He could even have created that bad Vampire and felt all that guilt without once saying one word about any Greek Gods. I have this thing about “SHOW ME” do not “TELL ME” in writing. Well, the big thing was there was a lot of telling. This happened with Diego in the first book too, but not as bad. Both these books could have used a prologue that showed the heros way back when they first started and it would have had more impact and lessened the need to recount everything about their past.

The best part of this series again is that anyone could read the first book and the third book and skip Outcast and have a great time reading some good Vampire stories. I would so dump Outcast and set it aside for re-write in a New York minute. I felt like the last part dragged me so far down, jeez, it sucked. I had just breezed through the last two books with no problems, then this fine mess.

Amelia you are a damn good writer (Not surprising since you are published by Samhain) and not many people, even those writers presented to us continually in romance as “the best”, can write a series of books that work individually as well as together. You have done this and done it very very well. I respect your writing talent and thank you for some really good Vampire Romance stories. I really want to give this whole series an overall A for consistency but not in it’s current shape.

Till then, my only request Amelia Elias is… Where is the Gay Vampire Patriarch and can two men be “bondmates”? Now that would be hot and sexy in your more than capable writing hands.

Grade B for Chosen, Grade B for Hunted, Outcast? What Outcast?

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