Flash Fiction for the Blog Hop from Caitlin Ricci

Caitlin got inspired by the picture on Michelle Montgomery's new cover -- Michelle's book rocks, and so does Caitlin's little fic. Amazing how folks see things so differently! Both Caitlin and Michelle are Colorado authors, here for the Out in the Rockies Blog Tour.

Detective Jamison Landry crept quietly through the ransacked house on Lightwood Terrace. The smell of incense was thick in the air and he had to consciously hold his breath to keep from choking on the sweet stench. Behind him he heard the other members of his team struggling with it as well. They’d been sitting on the house for weeks and finally had the search warrant  to go in and seize was Jamison was sure would be a large cache of illegal drugs hidden somewhere in the nineteen fifties ranch style house.

The dirty linoleum creaked under his boots as he and the team moved into the kitchen. Surveillance had told him that the upper portion of the house was hardly ever used and that the people taking up residence in what had at one time been a nice home spent much of their time in the basement. He hated basements, hated that feeling of being exposed and bottlenecked as he went down the stairs to invade people in their holes. But when no one had come to the door after he’d banged, yelling that they had a search warrant and would be coming in, he had gotten a sick feeling that their search would lead to this.

His gaze caught on an occult symbol in front of the closed basement door, nothing that he was familiar with but the dark rust stain was something he was more than acquainted with, and not by choice. He bent down, shifting the pistol to his holster for just a moment as he took a scraping of the dried blood just in front of his blood. It was old, the stain clear on the floor even after he’d bagged a small sample of it and the bitter smell of iron had long since left the substance. He marked the bag with a pen, balancing the small bit of plastic on his knee as he scribbled the date, location and his initials on it before shoving it and the pen back into his pocket. He took his gun in his hands again and rose to his feet. Around him the team seemed anxious, some even bouncing on the balls of their feet as he slowly pulled the door open.

He shouted that he was entering the basement a second before he and his team rushed down the stairs, guns up and ready to fire at anyone who happened to get in their way. What he met in the brightly lit cement room though was far different than anything he had expected as the acrid smell of sulfur assaulted his nose and tightened his throat. He’d raided meth labs, crack houses and people growing pot in their bathtubs and he’d never once expected to find the large circle of people dressed in bright red robes, sitting cross legged on the floor as they held hands and chanted in low voices. In front of them was a row of white candles, all lit and in front of that row of dancing flames stood large object covered in black cloth.

Jamison couldn’t tell what it was, wasn’t even sure he wanted to know as he stood dumbfounded with the rest of his team, his gaze fixed on the circle of people that seemed to be in a trance.

Then one of them looked up, his eyes slowly focusing on the small group of intruders with their guns drawn on them. He shouted and broke apart as he tried to make a run for it. His actions spurred Jamison out of his own startled daze as he tackled the man rushing at him. With practiced movements that he could do in his sleep, the man was quickly put on his back, his hands handcuffed behind him and then sat up against the concrete wall. Jamison wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but the safety of his team mattered more to him than the robed man’s comfort as the rest of them began breaking apart. Some ran, some stood still, too in shock to do much else. Within minutes they were all handcuffed and placed against the wall, joining  the idiot that had tried to rush past him to get to the only exit.

Jamison gave each of them a critical once over. There were men, women and some teenagers, all different ages and races. None of them seemed to have anything in common except for that they each had that same occult symbol marked in what appeared to be candle wax on their foreheads.

He was about to question them about the location of the drugs when a noise behind him got his attention. He hadn’t really expected anyone to be honest about it. In his experience no one ever was. But he believed in giving people first chances to hang themselves with their own words.

Regardless, he turned toward the source of the soft shuffling sound, leaving his team facing the seated robed figures. The black blanketed object was moving. He approached it cautiously as nothing good ever seemed to be hidden under sheets and his mind even drifted to some of his favorite horror movies as he stepped closer. The toe of his boot knocked over one of the candles and he gingerly picked it up even as the murmuring began behind him.

“No! Don’t touch him!” one of the men said behind him.

“Him?” Jamison snarled as he turned to face the suddenly quiet man. Could the red faced, obviously angry person sitting across the room from him be serious? Did they really have a man under the sheet? And if so, why wasn’t he moving?

“You mustn’t go closer! He’s dangerous!” a woman screeched.

Jamison had to cough against the thick smell of sulfur that had seemed to flare up at the woman’s words. That was just his imagination playing around though. Sulfur was a chemical, it didn’t do anything in response to anyone directly. He shook his head to clear the silly thought and turned back to the sheet. With one sure movement he grabbed a handful of the worn cloth and yanked it down and away, tossing it clear of the disrupted circle of candles.

“Holy fuck....” one of his team said from behind him.

He forced himself to swallow back his own curses as he stared down at the bound figure of a man in front of him. The dark haired, pale skinned body in front of him seemed to have gone still as he was exposed. Jamison knelt down next to him, quickly assessing his condition and having to bite his tongue as he fully saw why the man hadn’t moved under the sheet. He had a wrap around his mouth made of hard leather that connected to the chains around his wrists and then attached to a hook buried deep in the cement.

Though he was unable to speak, the man’s eyes told him plenty as he turned his head slightly to look at Jamison. He was furious as he narrowed his gaze on him. Jamison had to look away first. Something about his eyes, the red circle rimming them like fire, had gotten to him.

When he looked back the man was still looking at him but some of the anger had seemed to dissipate along with the smell of sulfur. “Easy,” Jamison said as he quickly undid the chains. He could hear the people yelling at him to stop, to not let him go, that he was dangerous. He ignored him the best he could as he unwound the chains. He touched the man as little as possible but each touch still sent warm electricity through his fingertips. He did his best to ignore that sensation as well as the chains fell away and he reached behind the man’s head, the soft strands of his dark hair teasing his hands as he undid the mask that had kept him from speaking.

Freed, the man rose to his feet and Jamison found his nose only inches from the tattoo of a crow that flew against the man’s navel. Though his mouth was dry he swallowed thickly as he followed the trail of the intricate tattoo under the bird’s tail feathers disappeared under the waist of the man’s jeans.

“Mal,” the man introduced himself, his voice hoarse as he stared down at Jamison.

“Demon! You shall not escape!” a man cried out from against the wall.

Jamison didn’t pay them any attention as stood up next to Mal.

“You’ve freed me,” he said as Jamison took a step back, giving him some space. For being held captive he looked to be in remarkably good condition. Jamison let his gaze roam over Mal’s muscular arms and defined stomach. He licked his lips, realizing a second too late that Mal had caught the movement.

Mal smiled at him. “You wish a kiss for your reward?”

Jamison’s mouth fell open as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “Uh...”

Mal’s hand was impossibly warm as he cupped his cheek. Seared and not minding one bit, Jamison leaned into that touch. It’d been so long since someone had been affectionate with him. He heard his team shuffling around behind him, waiting for orders, but he couldn’t be bothered with them as the fire in Mal’s eyes seemed to dance with his smile as he leaned forward.

Jamison met him halfway, maybe even more than halfway, his lips open and ready for this man’s kiss. He’d never been so obvious, so reckless before in his life and he’d certainly never made it known to the department that he was gay.

And yet, as the warmth of Mal’s mouth opened for his searching tongue and his arms came up to grip Jamison’s shoulders, something about it felt right. Mal pulled back first, leaving the taste of warm spices on Jamison’s lips.

Suddenly wary and uncertain Jamison looked up to find the ring of fire nearly consuming Mal’s dark gaze. What had he done? He was in the middle of a drug raid and he’d kissed a man that these crazy people in robes were holding prisoner. His captain would have his badge. He’d be suspended. Terms like unprofessional actions unbecoming of an officer would be thrown at him.

“You stupid man! You can’t imagine the gravity of what you’ve done!” one of the crazies yelled at him.

Mal moved in front of him, facing the long row of people. Jamison watched in shock as they quickly quieted, dropping their gazes from him.

“You are a pure soul,” Mal whispered to him, almost as if he was in awe. “You couldn’t have freed me otherwise.”

Jamison had no idea what the man meant. He hadn’t been considered pure since high school. “Yeah right,” he said. He took a breath and forced himself to think. “Let’s get you to the hospital. You need to get checked out.” The reminder of work helped as he stepped away. “Mark, start leading the suspects up and make sure they’re all read their rights. Three of you stay down here with me and help search for the narcotics.”

Mal spun on his heel, the motion more graceful than what Jamison would expect his big body able to produce, as he turned to face Jamison. “If I tell you where they are, will you give me another kiss?”

Jamison wasn’t sure he heard right. “You... wha...”

Mal’s smile spread until Jamison could see the faintest points of the man’s white teeth. “The drugs for a kiss. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Jamison felt himself nod before his brain had fully caught up to what was going on.

Gleefully Mal clapped his hands together and seemed to skip on bare feet over to a pile of cardboard boxes stacked neatly in the corner. With one swift kick the empty boxes fell noisily to the floor and plastic wrapped parcels quickly followed in their wake.

Mal was back in front of him before the last one had hit the ground. “I’ll take my kiss now,” he said as his mouth descended on Jamison’s, his warmth engulfing him as Jamison moaned against his lips.

The End

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Caitlin's newest will be out from Silver Press on June 16!

Find her news and tidbits here at her blog.

Travis will do anything to keep his daughter safe, now that he finally has custody. Financially ruined, he cannot even afford food for himself most days. Could a stranger’s offer to dogsit be the solution Travis has been hoping for?

Travis has done everything to keep his daughter safe. He's fought a long, hard battle with the courts to gain full custody and has finally found some breathing room. But that security comes at a heavy price.

Staying in a motel and living off his quickly dwindling savings is no way to raise a toddler, so when Liam steps into his life and offers him hundreds of dollars just to watch his dogs for a weekend, it almost seems too good to be true.

But when he finds out there is more to Liam than he ever thought, he has a hard decision to make. Can he and his daughter stay and be safe or will he need to leave?

A Blog Hop Excerpt by George Seaton

The Card
Fathers Day 2012 Release
By George Seaton

The dynamic between fathers and sons is complex, most often least understood by the players themselves. But is it the father who does not know his son, or is it the son who does not know his father?

The discovery of a Father's Day card in a box---long ago shoved into a dark corner in a cellar---provides a revelation to a son, a gay son that shatters all previous conclusions about his father. Set in Denver, the ravages of a massive flood, and the disappearance of a nine-year-old girl, provide the background for a son's coming of age, and a father's eerie ability to "...read the hunch...," that is essential to his prowess as a cop.

***************

I am looking at it now. It is an unremarkable card from the folks at Hallmark. It is mostly cream-colored, with a textured gold-colored ribbon surrounding the sentiment and drawing on the front. The sentiment reads, “To the best father in the world.” The drawing provides a briar pipe—quite simple in its design—resting in an ashtray on a round tabletop with a thin spiral of white smoke coming from a small red glow within the innards of the pipe’s bowl. A pair of leather gloves lay next to the ashtray. I do not know why this particular card captured my interest then, so many years ago. Then again, perhaps I do. I wonder at the symbolism of the drawing, especially the leather gloves. But even now I smell the delicious aroma of the tobacco mix (a tinge of vanilla), and I know the gloves would smell just as lovely if I could pick them up and cradle them against my nose. Maybe that was it. Maybe the image on the face of the card just impressed me as something the best father in the world would have on his side table. And, yes, perhaps the best father in the world would live on a wooded drive, in a two or three-story farmhouse in Vermont or Maine. Perhaps he and his son would walk the woods of ancient oak—the trails layered with the colors of fall—along with their three or four Irish Setters, and trade thoughts about life and living and the future. And, as the day began to fade and the wind picked up, they would walk back to the warm inviting farmhouse, the father’s hand upon the son’s shoulder.

My father smoked fat cigars. A large tumbler of scotch/water invariably sat next to his ashtray on the side table next to his—and only his—recliner; a large leather chair that sputtered a complaint when he first sat down and creaked whenever he stretched to retrieve his scotch or cigar from the side table. We, my mother and I, lived with my father in a ranch-style house in southwest Denver, with a backyard fenced-in by chain link that corralled a black, brown and white dog of indeterminate lineage; our trees were modest, bushes really. Our lives, unfortunately, did not conform to the pleasant world evoked by Hallmark.

***************

Coming on Father's Day (June 17) from MLR Press!

Find George's news and tidbits at here at his blog, and there's a review to his gothic romance, Finding Deaglan, somewhere around here, which is set in Colorado. I think the Byers-Evans House was part of the setting.

A Thousand Word Thursday story by Thorny Sterling

Toast to Love
By Thorny Sterling

I sat in my usual booth with an open bottle of beer in front of me. Well, it hadn’t been my booth for 3 months, 14 days, and about 2 hours, but I sat here considering maybe changing that.

“Don’t.”

“Huh?”

I looked up and there’s lean and lanky Tommy Chester. He’d been half the reason I’d stopped coming in here. He’d started bartending here, and it was no longer the place I could get away from the temptation of him in this hick town. Bad enough he worked behind me at the mill all day, now he was here too? Three months, 14 days, and about 2 hours ago, I’d gotten smashed lusting after those ropy arms, that silky black hair, and those big brown eyes only to have a near-death experience on the way home by being on the losing side of a run-in with a telephone pole.

I’d given up drinking and stayed away from the bar ever since.


“Don’t drink that,” Tommy said. “You don’t need it.”

I wrapped my hand around the cold glass. “What’s it to you?”

He slid into the booth opposite me, those long legs bumping mine as he settled.

“You’re not as alone as you think you are, Jeff.” He’d pitched his voice low and stared into my eyes when he said that. Now he wedged one knee between mine and gave me a rub.

I jerked and stared at him. Was he telling me…? I mean, everyone knew about me now after the biggest loudmouth in town — my own sister — had seen me in an alley over in the next town letting that guy suck me off. I was an outcast now in just about every way. I’d figured it was just good business that made Angie actually take my order despite the sneer she’d given me before, during, and after she’d brought this beer. It’d been the same at the grocer and gas station; if I handed over money, they didn’t do much more than glare.

Tommy sighed and shook his head, but there was a little curl to his mouth. “I am too,” he said. “Just haven’t gotten caught yet, is all.”

Holy Jesus. “Son of a bitch.”

He frowned at me.

I pushed the damn beer away and leaned over the table, tried not to yell. “Are you telling me that all this time I’ve been wanting you and you’re queer too?”

Tommy chuckled, the smile making his handsome face go all kinds of cute. “Guess I am.”

“Damn it.”

He bit his bottom lip as he grinned and hooked his leg so he had mine caught right there under the table. I reached down and gripped his thigh. Maybe in warning, or maybe just because I could touch him.

“People are gonna know now,” I told him even as I felt up that tight muscle. “Any man seen with me for too long’s gonna be my secret lover.”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “I don’t give a good goddamn anymore.” He pointed at me. “I figured out what my dick’s for because of you and if I have a chance to have you, I’m fucking taking it.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah, boy.”

It’d be tough, maybe even worse than hell, but if I had somebody to lean on when it got too bad to take alone… Well, then.

“Wanna get outta here?”

I didn’t care if he meant the bar, town, state, or planet.

“Yeah, I do.”

Nowadays, I still live in a little hick town, still get that look or a couple foul words from the ignorant, but I drink only on special occasions. Like our fifteenth anniversary. I’ll hold a bottle high and toast to love with my Tommy by my side.

*****************
Thank you, Thorny! Gee, if you can do this much with less than a thousand words, I'd love to see what you do with a short story or a novel!   I read Thorny's blog, where he talks about life and books and love and Jazz, and makes me feel like there's hope for humanity.

Fallen Angel by Eden Winters

Title: Fallen Angel
Author: Eden Winters
Cover Artist: Alessia Brio
Publisher: Torquere Press
Genre: contemporary
Length: 212 pages

Ten years of rescuing lost youth from the streets wear a man out, and Noah Everett buckles under the pressure of being "The Angel." What began as a two-man mission is now going corporate, meaning rules, regulations and inexperienced volunteers needing guidance in a field Noah makes up as he goes along. On top of this, his latest prospective rescue doesn’t seem to go to plan. Is he losing his touch? Normally he’d turn to his mentor, Doc, in times of trouble, but the old man's strength isn't what it used to be. Noah’s lover would be the next most obvious choice to share this burden with, but Jeremy Kincaid is about to leave for college. After all Jeremy's endured to achieve this goal, Noah won’t stand in his way, even though he fears losing the man to the joys of student life.

Jeremy may be young and caught up in his own fights, but he's not blind to Noah’s plight, and now questions his own choices. Four years at State with a full ride will launch his future, but his present includes Noah--and a meth addict who’s become Jeremy’s own personal mission.

When a physical attack sends Noah spinning out of control, Jeremy must reevaluate his life and plans before the man he knows and loves disappears forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For those of you who haven’t read Angel of Thirteenth Street, go fix that right now. Okay, you’re back? Good. Now we can talk, not so much because you need all the background in the first book as because it’s just that good and this follows on. Fallen Angel stands alone but is that much richer if you’ve read the first one.


Jeremy and Noah are several months into their relationship, and it’s unusual in that while Jeremy is of age, he’s still in high school—aging out of the foster system before he graduated (and before he met Noah), he’s had to scramble just to make it this far. It’s a triumph that not only is he turning his cap, but doing it with style, honors, and a scholarship that he’s busted his ass for. Should be happiness on a plate, right? Not so fast.

Noah also has what he’s worked so hard for—he’s got help rescuing the street kids and rent boys now, where before it was him and Doc, whose backstory is wrenching and entwined with Noah’s own. Helpers, donations, and resources fade into the background when all Noah can see is the young man who can reach out but not grab on to Noah’s offered hand. Noah can help the young men who will meet him halfway—the ones he gets out of “the life” become notches on his doorpost. The ones who don’t become notches on his heart, and they just might make him bleed to death.

This is a story of reevaluating—both partners have learning and growing to do, and reassessing of goals and their routes to those goals. The road is bumpy and full of dangers—Noah and Jeremy are sweet together, but that might not be enough when Noah turns inward after an attack. For all that he’s a dozen years older than Jeremy, sometimes he’s the less mature partner—sometimes he’s stuck in the past, and sometimes he’s afraid to move into the future.

There is plenty of plot, but the characters’ growth is the important part of the story. We find out a lot more of Noah’s past; there are a lot of flashbacks and references to the first book, but with much added detail and depth—it isn’t filler rehash. There just are a lot of flashbacks. Jeremy is the one who is truly moving forward in life, and for a while there, it seems like Noah won’t be able to go with him. It’s heartbreaking, in best Eden Winters style, and she does bring the sun back, but not before Doc, Jeremy, Lark the meth addict, and all the readers want to kick Noah’s butt.

This isn’t purely Noah and Jeremy’s story: Doc, Lark, and the rent boy, Chip, all have significant roles, both in their own arcs and as Noah and Jeremy’s friends. Sometimes their roles are the more interesting, some of Noah and Jeremy’s scenes, while happy and moving the story, are just a little too slice-of-life-y to maintain intense interest. But other scenes will yank you right out of your chair, or make you reach for your tissues. Sometimes both at once. Poor Chip.

A major issue with sequels is that the intense romantic question of “how will they get together” has already been answered. The problems shift to how do they stay together, certainly important, but the focus has to be different and the feel of the book is not the same. Fallen Angel addresses the ways these two very different men tackle the same problems, and the end will make you snuffle and smile all at once. 4.5 marbles

I didn't forget the eyecandy!

I'll take one of those! Anyone who has a little excerpt or story of 100 to 1000 words to explain why this fella is working on the beer, send it this way with your latest cover, blurb, and links. The rest of us will pop another cold one to keep him company.

I'm at CryselleC at gmail dot com.

Handle With Care by Josephine Myles

Title Handle With Care
Author Josephine Myles
Publisher Samhain Publishing
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 191 pages

The best things in life aren’t free…they’re freely given.

Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. After raising his little sister to adulthood, he wasted no time making up for the youth he lost to responsible parenting. Two years of partying it up—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tethered to a home dialysis regimen.

He can do his job from his flat, fortunately, but most of his favourite things are forbidden. Except for DVD porn…and fantasizing over Ollie, the gorgeous, purple-haired skateboarder who delivers it.

Their banter is the highlight of Ben’s lonely day, but his illness-ravaged body is the cruel reality that prevents him from believing they’ll do anything more than flirt. Not to mention the age gap. Still, Ben figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.

Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret…and an unexpected connection that leaves him wondering if he’s been reading Ollie wrong all this time. There’s only one way to find out: risk showing Ollie every last scar. And hope “far from perfect” is good enough for a chance at love.


Product Warnings: Contains superhero porn comics and a cute, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josephine Myles is an autobuy author for me, and once again she has demonstrated why. Her latest novel, Handle With Care delicately explores a budding relationship between a thirty-three year old kidney patient and the much younger parcel delivery man who brings the his nearly daily fixes of porn.


Ben Lethbridge has paid for his excesses with his health—a diabetic and already at risk for problems, he took a few too many chances. Now he has to schedule his life around the bottles of dialysis solution that slosh around his abdomen, keeping him alive. He’s in the horrible position of waiting for a kidney transplant, knowing that it means a tragedy for someone else.

Ollie shows up with packages every day or two—Ben buys a lot of porn to make up for the sex he doesn’t get any more. Between his chronic condition and his guilt, he’s so not in the market for a relationship that both Ollie and his sister have to bat him over the head to get Ben to realize Ollie’s interested.

Ollie’s a bundle of contradictions, both bold enough to go for what he wants and insecure enough to believe that his role is only to serve. He barely knows what a healthy relationship between equals looks like, and he needs a little guidance to find it, not that Ben’s such an expert. Together they bumble into something that works for them. Both of these men have some big issues, and very-manlike, they don’t talk until the relationship landmines have already gone off, and sometimes not even then. Ben’s health throws more spanners in the works—surgery for a new kidney keeps him from being able to have sex for a long time, which at least allows them to get to know each other.

Both men have some real and serious issues that are revealed only gradually—it’s hard for Ben to know how he’s put his foot in his mouth because he knows so little about Ollie at first. Certain things really offend him, but Ben doesn’t know why, and it doesn’t help that Ollie’s first reaction is to run away rather than fight. Both characters have their prickles, but there is a happy ending for them. The final clearing of the air brings some closure to a number of issues in Ben and Ollie’s past, and you just know they’ll make it.

Ben’s sister Zoe had significant face time—Ben raised her after their parents died, and the relationship between them is extremely important to the story. She’s both urging Ben to take a good long look at Ollie and then distressed by the relationship when he does. Some beautifully drawn doubts and fears there—she grows as much as Ollie and Ben do.

Josephine Myles’ language is British without drowning in slang, so the book has definite flavor of place, and her storytelling unrolls the men’s secrets with nice pacing. The one problem I had was that the conflict relied on Ollie refusing to talk about things as much as that Ben and Ollie simply don’t know each other and can find all the sore spots by accident. It’s not a Big Misunderstanding, but there is a series of Medium Misunderstandings that each could scuttle the relationship. Between Ben being oblivious and Ollie being less than forthcoming, they have a lot of opportunities to vex each other.

Living with a chronic health problem and its effect on finding love has been done, but not often done this well—Ben’s renal failure is deep characterization and not a surface gloss. He can do little, even starting a porn movie, without considering what part of his treatment cycle he’s in. We don’t see Ollie as clearly—so much of Ben’s attention is focused inward while just trying to stay alive, which both makes sense and feels like a gap. Ollie is adorable and definitely needs big squishy hugs. Ben had better provide them or he’ll hear from at least one reader with a big stick!
4.5 marbles

Last Stop by Lou Harper

Title: Last Stop
Author: Lou Harper
Cover Artist: Lou Harper
Publisher: Samhain
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 211 pages

When love drifts into his life, danger isn’t far behind.

Sam Mayne’s life is as dull as the dishwater in his small-town Montana diner, and that’s just how he wants it. Quiet, uneventful, safe from his shadowy past. The breezy young drifter who answers his help-wanted ad makes him uneasy in ways he dare not examine too closely. Except he can’t help but be pulled in by Jay Colby’s spunky attitude, endless stories, and undeniable sex appeal.

Fresh off yet another romantic disaster, Jay doesn’t understand his attraction to the taciturn line cook, but there’s no fighting the chemistry that lands them in bed together. Where Sam’s subtly dominant streak takes command, and Jay delights in discovering the pleasures of his submissive side.

Safe in the assumption their relationship is temporary, neither lover holds back when the heat is on. Until Sam’s deadly past catches up with them with a vengeance, forcing him to drop the life he’s built, pick up his lover, and run. As danger cuts closer to the bone, Sam and Jay are forced to face the truth. About themselves, about the depth of their love—and the newly forged bonds that are about to be tested to the limit.
________________________________________
Product Warnings
Contains enough sparks to ignite a sexual fire, ably fanned by the judicious use of some interesting props, as well as some butt-warming spanking. Sizzzzle.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Jay Colby drifts around, finding work and sex partners here and there as his needs dictate, and those needs aren’t always sexual. A sugar daddy, good for two nights or two years, is okay by him, and when he finds himself on the steps of a diner in Mini-town, Montana, he’ll sling hash and lay his boss with equal enthusiasm.


Sam has his reasons for not wanting a real relationship, but finds himself drawn in by Jay’s enthusiasm behind the counter and in bed. He likes that Jay’s willing to take orders, and their sex starts off with a few commands. It progresses to spankings and some light bondage, and everyone is having a good time. Some scenes, like the wax play, are going to be more entertaining for others than for me, but the sex scenes have a lot of variety. A little something for everyone here—there are a lot of sex scenes, three large ones plus tidbits in the first 55 pages alone.

Sam and Jay explore each other, but the end of the good times looms in the ominous conversations between other parties. Each chapter has a brief exchange hinting doom for someone. Sam’s pissed a mobster off in a big way, and his days of hiding in nowhereville are numbered. He’s not too worried for himself, and he’ll just shoo Jay off like the stray he is, to find the rest of his life with someone else. Until he finds he cares, and then he’s got to get Jay out of the line of fire, even if he doesn’t want to go.

I enjoyed the beginning of this, as two unlikely partners came together, although my degree of investment in their happiness was limited. I think the style kept me at a distance—there were very few forays deep into someone’s head. For the most part, it felt like surface interactions. Deep pounding into someone’s ass isn’t the same as deep involvement in his life.

Most of the interesting things in both Sam and Jay’s life happened in the past, and while they tell each other the stories, it’s just that, reporting the past. It’s necessary background for both of them, explaining why Sam’s on the run and that Jay’s got a reflex for revenge aimed at vulnerable points, but it’s all anecdotes told by one to the other, and not as engaging as it could be. Even Jay’s recounting of his slutty adventures feels distant, although it turns Sam on.

The middle of the story bogged down extensively in a protracted road trip—running from the Mob is not always as exciting as it’s made out to be. Fortunately, they come to a safe haven and start to settle in a bit, with jobs and new identities, though their pursuers are closing in.

When the mobsters finally catch up to them, I was stunned to discover that I’m much bloodthirstier than an ex-mob enforcer—what I thought he’d do wasn’t anywhere close to what he did do, but Sam’s supposed to be a moderately good guy now, and he does care deeply for Jay in a way he never expected to. Part of Sam’s planning struck me as excessively dependent on luck, the dumbness of his opponents, and an ally who hadn’t been entirely reliable. We do have an opportunity to see how Jay and Sam can function as a team, providing the best demonstration that they can make it as a couple. The climactic scene relies on elements of Jay and Sam’s sex life in both helpful ways and in creating problems, a nice twist.

I thought the premise here was solid, if familiar, with some novel plot points. The execution didn’t quite match the ideas, leaving a feeling of distance between the reader and the characters—the most emotionally engaging moment outside of the sex scenes involved Jay and a koi pond, which is probably not the reaction intended. The sex is hot and plentiful—the author describes it at BDSM-lite, and not so overwhelming as to put off a non-BDSM reader like myself, so it may be a very good choice for a reader looking to expand horizons in that direction. 3.25 Marbles