Hard Tail by JL Merrow

Title: Hard Tail
Author: JL Merrow
Cover Artist: Kanaxa
Publisher: Samhain
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 259
Rating: 4.25 stars out of 5

Finding love can be a bumpy ride.

His job: downsized out of existence. His marriage: on the rocks. It doesn’t take a lot of arm twisting for Tim Knight to agree to get out of London and take over his injured brother’s mountain bike shop for a while. A few weeks in Southampton is a welcome break from the wreck his life has become, even though he feels like a fish out of water in this brave new world of outdoor sports and unfamiliar technical jargon.

The young man who falls—literally—through the door of the shop brings everything into sharp, unexpected focus. Tim barely accepts he’s even in the closet until his attraction to Matt Berridge pulls him close enough to touch the doorknob.

There’s only one problem with the loveable klutz: his bullying boyfriend. Tim is convinced Steve is the cause of the bruises that Matt blows off as part of his risky sport. But rising to the defense of the man he’s beginning to love means coming to terms with who he is—in public—in a battle not even his black belt prepared him to fight. Until now.

Warning: Contains an out-and-proud klutz, a closeted, karate-loving accountant—and a cat who thinks it’s all about him. Watch for a cameo appearance from the Pricks and Pragmatism lovers. May inspire yearnings for fresh air, exercise, and a fit, tanned bike mechanic of your very own.

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For every door that closes, another door opens. For Tim, the dissolution of his marriage and the evaporation of his job let him step back from the cookie cutter corporate “happiness” that his life has become. Redundant at a job that he was good at but didn’t love, and redundant too in a marriage that was peaceful but not passionate, Tim has a chance to find out what he really wants.

Much to his surprise, it’s Matt, the klutzy bike mechanic at the shop Tim is managing temporarily while the owner, his brother Jay, is laid up with injuries. The longings sneak up when Tim isn’t looking—he never really questioned his orientation, and then denied it, and now, because of the irrefutable evidence, has to examine it.

JL Merrow unrolls Tim’s story with her trademark humor—Tim pokes gentle fun at himself even while he’s pondering a complete remake of his life and his perceptions of himself. Assisted in the chuckle department by a demanding feline he dubs Wolverine, Tim examines some difficult issues without devolving into total angst. When his newfound friends in Eling encourage him to live a little, Tim finds himself falling out of the closet like an improperly stored skeleton. It’s sweet, and if his experiments with Adam aren’t destined to be more than a few nights of groping, they do at least convince Tim that he’s on the right course at last.

Matt has to find a new path, too. Much of what he endures we see only in his demeanor and condition after the fact—he’d rather blame every black eye and bruise on cycling accidents than admit more than that his boyfriend is a trifle controlling. The clues add up to bad things happening. Finally asserting his right to being treated with respect turns Matt into a single man, but one on the run, and it makes sense that he turns to Tim, who has a roof to share and nothing but kind words.

Much of the action is low key, as Tim ponders what to do with himself in all ways, especially regarding Matt, whom he regards as off limits as long as he remains with the terrible lover. Tim feeds the cat, learns the joy of cycling, and sheds a marriage like a snakeskin. His relationship with his family gets some good long looks too, and part of this fell apart for me. Tim has always been the overshadowed child, doing well but getting far less attention or credit than the flamboyant brother, who manages to turn Tim’s big revelation into something that’s all about him. Funny in a way, but the response from the family didn’t make sense, given the entire rest of the dynamic.

Once Matt is no longer off limits, he and Tim can be together, and they get together with a thump as audible as when Matt trips through doorways. The speed is understandable but still a little offputting, since Matt has about 20 milliseconds between good-bye ex, hello forever love. Still, we readers know he’s far better off in Tim’s gentle hands, and forgive most of the warp speed.

And Wolverine? He surely owns both Tim and Matt.

4.25 marbles

Firenze by Barry Brennessel

Title: Crossroads: Firenze
Author: Barry Brennessel
Cover Artist: Deanna Jamroz
Publisher: MRL Press
Genre: contemporary
Length: 3100 words

Brandon Meier's academic year in Europe takes him far beyond museums, castles, and classrooms. When he embarks on a month-long rail journey, his sightseeing includes an edgy French boy, a Carravagio-esque Italian, a rich Swiss lad, a Croatian heartbreaker, and an Indonesian beauty in Amsterdam, to name but a few. These are lessons no textbook can ever teach.

It's not long before Brandon realizes that the best sightseeing is almost always off the beaten path. From sultry nights in saunas, to midnight strolls in seemingly endless parks, chance encounters in sleepy seaside towns and nights of wining, dining, BMW convertibles and penthouse apartments, Brian's year in Europe is anything but "by the textbook."
Next stop: Firenze


Review

Sometimes you have only five or seven minutes—this series of stories is meant to fill that need. A few thousand words isn’t much to build an entire story with, and this is really more of an interlude.


Firenze is one stop on student Brandon’s itinerary, and he isn’t in the city more than an hour before he encounters a gorgeous, willing Italian man to enliven his sightseeing. He’s not planning to be in Florence even twenty-four hours, so this is not a relationship to last. This is one in a series—Brandon’s visiting a lot of cultural centers.

We really don’t get more than the highlights of Brandon’s sightseeing and the brief tumble he takes with Stefano, who is everything Caravaggio would love in a model, from fine skin to wavy hair, and is sweet in bed. Brandon thinks of him as art more than as a person, until the very last moment.

When I say that the story is travelogue with sex, I do mean that it’s a great deal more than what I usually encounter in this microscopic size—it manages to be thoughtful about a passing encounter and not try for a grand passion in ten pages: PWP with art history does fit into the space. It’s a petit-four of a story: tasty, with layers, and a mere mouthful. And sometimes a mouthful is all you want. 3.5 marbles

Reclaimed by Cari Z

Title: Reclaimed (Treasured #3)
Author: Cari Z.
Cover Artist: Winterheart Design
Publisher: Pink Petal Books
Genre: fantasy
Length: 44 pages
Rating: 3 stars out of 5


Everything seems perfect for Daniel Hart, set to graduate with his PhD and in love with the attentive but mysterious Rhys Daveth, a doppelganger and wanted criminal. Daniel's happiness is shattered when he has to make a painful choice between the man he loves and the vocation he's meant for. Even worse, a jealous figure from Rhys' past is determined to remove Daniel from the picture, which for him means taking on Daniel's shape and killing the original. If Rhys can't find him in time, Daniel will die, but after their last meeting Daniel doesn't even know if Rhys is interested in finding him any more.

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Some series are loosely connected—the order doesn’t matter and the entire backstory isn’t required to understand the current plot and world. Others must be read in strict order to get the entire picture. Starting here at Book 3 was probably not my best choice, and had I realized at the time it was a series, and tightly connected at that, I’d have read first things first.

There’s enough backstory here to understand what went before, although the presentation comes in big chunks. This affects the perception of the world building—not all of it happened here and a lot of it was presented more organically in books one and two. Here it comes in lumps, along with the mentions of events in the first two books.

Rhys can change his shape, taking on the form of someone he’s “absorbed.” Recognizing him means finding subtle clues—Daniel can pick him out, even if he’s “wearing the shell” of a woman. There’s a magical/scientific explanation for why Rhys and a handful of others can do this, but suffice to say, the government would like to control all individuals with the ability—they’d make formidable agents.

Daniel, on the verge of acquiring his degree, is also acquiring a conscience—he loves Rhys but is growing increasingly uncomfortable with him being on the shady side of the law. Daniel studies and curates magical artifacts—Rhys heists them from museums. Daniel respects Rhys enough to not ask him to change, but their relationship can’t continue as is.

The two of them make great reading, and the peril Daniel endures is very possibly terminal—the story itself is very engaging, and the ideas behind the world are interesting. A “doppelganger” could get into a lot of mischief, and does. The HEA does happen--a matter for rejoicing and some giggles at a third character's reaction.

Unfortunately, where this story falls apart is the great wall of text. The author chose to work without chapter breaks, which adds to the heavy feeling created with large dense paragraphs and infrequent dialog. About a quarter of the story is information repeated from the first two installments of this series, which is necessary to understand what’s going on now.

Breaking this story into three parts didn’t do the characters and the fascinating ideas of magic and outlawry any favors—characters who played parts earlier pop up out of nowhere in the middle here, and the plot bogs down in the information repeated from earlier sections. I was left wishing I had read one longer but more streamlined work. 3 marbles

Blog Hop Excerpt from PD Singer

From Fire on the Mountain by PD Singer.

The smoking litter led from the road to what had been a camp site. The tent itself had been reduced to a few charred shreds of fabric on poles that curved into the air in the center of a circle of burning pine duff. The trees grew thick here, tall and thin, fighting to reach the light with their green upper branches. Lower branches had lost the race to the sun, forfeited their needles to become dry snags. Everything around the tent amounted to dry fuel—bad conditions for a fire to get loose.

“I think if we clear a fire break over here, we can keep it from getting into the trees,” Kurt said, and we started scraping the earth clean. Starving the fire would work better than trying to put it out directly--I’d learned that much from last week’s efforts. We worked diligently and were nearly two thirds around the fire zone when the wind whipped up.

“Shit!” Kurt sprinted for a section of the fire zone that had started expanding a whole lot faster as the wind pushed the flames. I followed, knowing that he wanted to keep the ground fire from hitting the trees, and we scraped frantically around two of the endangeredpines, but the third caught fire before we could get there.

Flame licked up the trunk and tasted the branches. “It’s candling,” Kurt snarled, craning his head to peer into the treetops.

The fire was consuming the tree from the base up and had already spread along the lower limbs. I craned upward, too, looking for what else would be in danger from this tree.

“The one damned beetle-killed pine on this acre and it’s right there!” He whipped the axe around. “If we take it down, away from the candle, it won’t take the fire into the crown.” He started chopping, and I cleared ground around the candling tree lest the fire spread further. The wind continued whipping around, blowing smoke into our faces and making sparks jump into the air. I coughed violently to clear a lungful of smoke, the heat and ash stinging my eyes. The fickle wind seemed to change direction every few seconds, which raised the risks—we couldn’t be in every place at once.

“Push from here!” Kurt had his hands on the partly severed trunk, so I helped him shove the tree over, away from the fire. Satisfied that the most dangerous bit of ladder fuel wasn’t going to burn now, we considered what to do next. The wind howled, pelting us with debris; once again it had shifted directions. Now it pushed the fire back over onto ground that had already burned, or that had fire break scraped, which made the wind our ally.

That didn’t last. The air currents changed yet again, lifting flaming bits into the air. Some went out like fireflies, others fell back onto burned ground, and a few sailed over the firebreak to land in fresh fuel. I suddenly hated the springy pine duff: it blazed too easily. We stamped out the spot fires that started, but the candling tree had not exhausted itself and now it came apart.

Fiery chunks flew in the wild wind, bouncing on the ground, shedding sparks. Some flew upward as one evil gust caught them, flipping at least one into a mostly dead tree that hadn’t fallen completely. It smoldered twenty feet above our heads.

“If we take down that one?” I pointed at one tree, but Kurt swung his axe at the next one over, to bring the dead lodgepole pine down and within our reach. I started hacking at the tall pine Kurt thought supported the dead tree the most. If we tipped it right, the whole burning mess would come down onto scorched ground to die.

Too late. The dead tree became its own funeral pyre as it burst into flame, crackling and popping. The wind toyed with the flames, sharing them with other trees, and it no longer mattered that two burning pines dropped onto the charred tatters of the tent.

“The operation was a success, but the patient died,” Kurt quipped. We counted how many trees still standing had flames dancing in their tops. “It is now officially bigger than the two of us. Let’s get out of here.”

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Take a break from academics, enjoy the Colorado Rockies, fight a fire now and then. That’s all Jake Landon expected when he signed up to be a ranger. He’ll partner with some crusty old mountain man; they’ll patrol the wilderness in a tanker, speak three words a day, and Old Crusty won’t be alluring at all. A national forest is big enough to be Jake’s closet—he’ll spend his free time fishing.

Except Old Crusty turns out to be Kurt Carlson: confident, competent, and experienced. He's also young, hot, friendly, and considers clothing optional when it’s just two guys in the wilderness. Sharing a small cabin with this walking temptation is stressing Jake’s sanity—is he sending signals, or just being Kurt? And how would Kurt react if he found out his new partner wants to start a fire of a different kind? Jake’s terrified—they have to live together for five months no matter what.

Enough sparks fly between the rangers to set the trees alight, but it takes a raging inferno to make Jake and Kurt admit to the heat between them.

Bonus Short Story: Into the Mountains

Long before he met Jake, Kurt Carlson climbed Yosemite with his best friend, Benji. But after a storm traps them halfway up the face of El Capitan, Kurt has to accept that their friendship isn't what he thought.

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Pam reminds us that this novel is expanded about 12,000 words and has an all new short story (not so short, it's about 11,000 words!)  about a critical incident from Kurt's past. Coming June 22 from Dreamspinner!

A Blog Hop Excerpt from Michele Montgomery

From Michele Montgomery's upcoming novel, Lethal Obsession: Deserted.

June, 1999 – London, UK

The gray eyed man made himself at home in the old English manor he’d broken into just moments before. He sat on the overstuffed chair in the corner of the darkened bedroom while the man of the house was in the shower, whistling away as if he had not a care in the world. The silent intruder settled back, his left leg thrown over his right knee, as comfortable as he could be. He ignored the water dripping down the sides of his face from his hair; it had been storming for the full two days he’d waited for the master of the house to return from his trip to Greece, and he’d waited outside the entire forty-eight hours, until the man finally came home.

He wasn’t at all disturbed; under the careful eye of his mentors he learned to ignore a variety of diversions, including whatever Mother Nature dished out. He was also trained to ignore his personal feelings when he was on a job; emotions could get him killed and he had no intention whatsoever of going that way. He had too much to live for. That's what he'd been told. He focused only on what he learned in basic training and everything his supervisors instructed him to do.

He was one of the élite, more than a trained assassin; he was a product of the way the United States Government trained its covert special ops agents. These men were a little less human while on the job, more machine than man, sentient yet several steps removed from humankind. Many of their overseers and handlers, those in the position to breed these killers and prescribe the deaths that were, each time, executed flawlessly, said these men had no scruples, lacked anything that might have once resembled a conscience, lacked the ability to empathize. And that is what made them the most notorious group of agents since the FBI came into being in 1908.

Carl Giordano was one such agent. Every day, every minute of his life was on the razor’s edge between death and the chance to see another sunrise. He lived in accordance with his master’s will. They all lived in accordance with their master’s will—a little more than robots, a little less than human. What else could they do? Their lives were not their own; they’d forfeited the fundamental laws of moral philosophy long ago. Taking a life meant nothing, not if it was ordered of them. Questioning an order contradicted the very core of who they were and what they stood for. It was something that had been ingrained into each of them since childhood. No one disobeyed an order given to him by his master. Not even the field leader, who was responsible for the one hundred-fifty men below him.

It was he who sat on the chair in the English manor, Carl Giordano, weapon, trafficker of death. It was he who had turned his feelings off well before he’d gone to stand in the rain those two days past. It was he who, for reasons he understood with a powerful clarity, had been assigned to this mission. He was there because he’d allowed his heart to feel something his master forbade. This was a lesson, pure and simple, and he accepted his lessons with pride. The Master and boss, one and the same, allowed for his undercover agents the freedom of being who they were on their own time. On his time, however, they were who he demanded they be. And only his time mattered. Their actions on their own time, he didn’t care to know. So, it was an unfortunate outcome for all involved that he’d found out about Carl’s misstep.

The master of the manor had no idea he had a visitor waiting for him, concealed within the shadows of his sanctuary. If he’d been at all aware of the deadly presence in the room, his whistling would have dissipated upon his next breath. But the man would know why the moment he saw his guest; it would hit him with a certainty born of intimacy, why the intruder was there. There would be no happy ending for either of them.

The water shut off and the gray eyed man sat up straight, his feet pressed flat to the cold wood floor. He kept his eyes glued to the bathroom door and closed his feelings off behind a wall of practiced detachment. The thought of killing an ex-lover didn’t sit well with him, but this was an order given to him by his master, a mission that could not be denied. One night in the cells, located below the main complex in a suburb of Chicago, had radically altered his perspective. To deny the master’s orders was to sign his own death certificate, and that of those he loved. Love was a feeling the master could not kill, so instead, he controlled and manipulated it, disciplined his agents, mercilessly, until he’d created a team of automatons that were devoid of excess emotion; the master did what he had to in order to ensure success. He would accept nothing less, expected perfection, and that’s precisely what he got.

The agent kept his eyes on the bathroom door, waiting for it to open, watching for the man to appear looking for the sure sign of recognition that he knew exactly why Carl was there. He would stand frozen, wrapped in nothing more than a towel, and that knowledge would cross his face. His eyes would glaze over, as they always did when he set his sights upon this particularly skillful agent.

For a few seconds, Carl allowed a hint of misgivings about his lot in this job, and that’s how he had to look at it, a job. His personal feelings fought to take control, but Carl’s well-trained mind took hold. He buried those emotions where they would stay until the end of time.

The bathroom door opened and a blanket of hot steam enveloped the near perfect man standing in the doorway, wearing the towel wrapped low on his waist just the way Carl knew he would. He should know; he’d been with the man often enough over the past five years to know even the smallest of habits.

Bryan’s hair was longer than the last time Carl had seen him, now falling to his bare nipples, nipples that Carl had tortured not so long ago. That silky black hair always felt so good twisted in Carl’s fingers. Carl loved the way it smelled, had always encouraged Bryan to grow it long, and the other man listened. The muscles in Bryan’s arms stood out prominently, the muscles in his chest and stomach well defined. Carl took a silent breath.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Carl remained immobile, though he couldn’t stop the small smile that played across his lips. He’d trained the man well.

Bryan didn’t move from the doorway; instead, he leaned against it, his face registering what his heart must be feeling—panic and despair. Bryan nodded before running his fingers through his wet hair, brushing it from his face. “Why?”

Carl didn’t answer; there was no need to waste the words. Bryan knew why Carl was there, and if he didn’t, he should. He knew the rules and he’d broken them. He had no one but himself to blame. Carl shifted slightly but kept his eyes on the man who’d always given his all to Carl. Bryan was one hell of an agent, one of their best sharpshooters, led a team with a confidence Carl saw in very few. People admired Bryan; they liked him because he was easy to like, and he’d been Carl’s submissive for many years. Bryan trusted Carl with everything he was and Carl never gave him a reason not to. Not until Bryan overstepped the rules and rules, he knew he broke.

“C’mere, Bryan,” Carl commanded quietly.

Many emotions crossed Bryan’s now pale face. His green eyes were misty, his lips quivered— He was afraid, and Bryan was never afraid. Carl felt a swelling in his chest as Bryan took a deep breath and pushed away from the doorframe. He stood tall and determined, even scared to death of what he knew was coming: he was walking his last walk to his Master, his friend, his co-agent, and he did so with pride. He stopped only when he stood directly in front of the chair Carl sat in.

Carl’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. Given the choice, he’d send Bryan away, help set him up with a new identity, but he didn’t; he wouldn’t because choice was not a rule in his game. Bryan broke one of Mike’s laws. When someone did that, termination came swiftly and without mercy. Period. End of story. If only it hadn’t been so easy to locate him; if Bryan had only just run farther than Greece— Then again, he could really never run far enough; Carl was too good at what he did and he could deny Mike nothing. What Mike wanted, Mike got, no questions asked.

Carl motioned for Bryan to go to his knees, words entirely unnecessary. With as much grace as Carl always expected from his subs, Bryan knelt, locked his hands behind his back, and kept his head lowered. Carl fought the urge to reach out to run his fingers through Bryan’s hair just one more time. He wished he had been able to spend some time with him over the last six months, but maybe it was better this way. He had to work hard to separate his heart from his head for this particular job. Taking his sub’s life on orders from his boss would leave a permanent scar if he didn’t have the power to shut himself down.

“Carl...,”

Carl placed his hand on Bryan’s head to silence him. It was an unspoken command Bryan learned long ago. Carl couldn’t stop himself, as it seemed his fingers had their own agenda. He wanted to remember this beautiful man kneeling before him, wanted to hold him one last time before he took Bryan's life from him. Carl would never have another chance to hold him, to tell him he loved him.

Carl swallowed and pulled his hand back. Bryan was nothing more than a target now, and in that moment, he realized how much he wished he would’ve terminated Bryan through the window. This was cruel, not only to Bryan but to him as well. But not facing the man, not showing Bryan the respect he deserved in his last minutes, would have been the coward’s way out.

“Mike, huh?”

Carl nodded once, knowing Bryan couldn’t see the movement. But he didn’t trust his voice, couldn’t rely on the fact that it might betray him, might reveal too much.

“Can I please tell you why I did it? Give me that much, at least, before you take my life from me, from you.” Bryan looked up at him then, pleading with his eyes, begging for Carl to hear him.

“It doesn’t matter. We can't turn back time and change any of it, but you knew that when you did it, didn’t you?”

“He’s into something bad, real bad, but I couldn’t prove it, so I went for help; I needed help to expose him. He’s lying, Carl, lying about something big. I overheard him on the phone the last time I was at the Unit. He saw me standing there and asked me what I heard. I told him nothing, but he didn’t believe me; then he had me sent to the Room.” Bryan paused to allow that much to sink into Carl’s head. The Room was a tool Mike used to train his agents, beating them senseless if he had to. The thought of seeing Bryan being hurt, being beaten, disturbed Carl more than he wanted it to. “After his lesson, when I was finally recovered enough, I ran and tried to get help. He’s up to something that involves kids, Carl. He’s putting kids in danger and he has to be stopped.”

“What he does or has done in the past is none of our business. He carries out orders from Washington and it is not our place to question them, any more than it’s your place to speak out of context about him to me. I follow his orders, as he follows their orders, as you should have followed mine.”

“He’s setting T’s little brother…”

“Enough,” Carl snapped. “You knew it was wrong. We do not question what he does, for he has a reason for every action. It’s our job to back him up, to do as he instructs, not to do what you did. Now, it’s out of my hands; the moment you went AWOL, you determined your fate.”

Bryan lowered his head while nodding his understanding. “Yes, Sir,” he said, his voice void of all emotion. “I understand.” He sighed and took a breath. “My will is in my safe downstairs in the study. My parents, please, Carl, call them yourself. I don’t want some schmuck from the government telling them that I was killed in the line of duty. They know you, they love you, so it’ll be easier for them to accept it and let me go.”

“Shh.” Carl looked up at the ceiling, wishing he were anywhere but where he was. He’d take a week, a month, hell, a year of Tony’s training in the Room, where it was anything but training, in lieu of taking this man’s life.

“I understand why, Sir. I love you. Maybe one day we’ll see each other again. In His house, ya know?”

“Jesus, Bryan, why couldn’t you just keep it to yourself?” Carl sighed and reached into his vest. He pulled the top off the small vial and shook a single capsule out. “It’s too late to apologize,” he said under his breath.

“Yes, Sir. I know it’s not you; I’m at peace with my life. I was one of the best he had, wasn’t I?”

Carl nodded and picked up the pill. “Open your mouth.” Bryan hesitated, then nodded once, swallowed, and opened his mouth, all the while looking into Carl’s eyes. “You know what this is; I can’t spill your blood, B.”

Bryan waited several long moments before he closed his mouth, capturing the deadly capsule between his molars.

“I love you, Bryan. You make me proud, even now.” He reached out once again and touched Bryan’s smooth cheek with his thumb. “Bite down.” Carl held his breath when Bryan did as instructed; he saw the fear in those eyes the second the tablet broke. “I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry.”

An eternity seemed to pass before the deadly combination of drugs began taking Bryan’s life. He gasped four, five times, and looked into Carl’s teary eyes right before he fell forward into his lap, gasping for breath and holding Carl’s thighs. Seconds, minutes, hours later, convulsions seized Bryan’s body and Carl’s tears fell freely down his face. “Let go, B, let it end,” he said calmly. His heart pounded away in agony, his mind screamed at him, cursed him for this senseless cruelty. His guilt began eating at him and by the time Bryan took his last breath, Carl had him wrapped in his arms, promising they’d be together again one day.

As gentle as a father carrying a baby, Carl lifted the body of the man he loved and laid him on the bed, covering him. He stood beside him and gently moved Bryan’s hair away from his face, leaned down and kissed him one last time.

“Goodbye, B,” he said, leaving the English manor as quietly as he’d come.

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Take a walk with me on the wild sidehttp://michelelmontgomery.com
http://lethalobsession.blogspot.com/

Michele's latest, Dammit! , is available now, so check it out!

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Escaping the past isn’t easy, especially when the scars left behind are a constant reminder that trust and love can hurt.

Michael McKnight knows what it means to be on the run from memories. Years ago, after fleeing an abusive relationship, he was brutally stabbed and left for dead. His only savior had been a compassionate stranger he’d only gotten a glimpse of before slipping into the blackness that claimed him.

For Michael, recovery was an arduous and hard fought return to some semblance of normalcy. He rebuilds his life, spending his waking hours buried in work and fighting to forget the past. And his life seems to be going well until he finds out that his cousin Wayne is being held captive in a mental asylum for being gay. So he buys a plane ticket and flies out to rescue his cousin.

But the weather is against Michael, keeping him grounded and talking to a man who claims that he’d once saved his life and is willing to help him rescue his cousin. Can this man be for real or is something more sinister in the works?

Pearl by Kelly Rand

Pearl by Kelly Rand
Publisher: Storm Moon Press
Genre: Trans, Historical
Length: 24 pages


Edith sleepwalks through a life so normal as to be boring. She lives with her mother, works a mundane job to support them, and makes no waves among the ladies of her sleepy 1920's Canadian town. Secretly, though, she watches the flappers and so-called "loose women" with envy, dreaming of what glamorous lives they must have. And that's before Clark walks into her life.

Clark embodies the world that Edith wishes she could be a part of. He's slick and dangerous and sexy in a way Edith has never experienced. So when Clark offers her a window into his world, she dives through without thinking. On the other side, though, her black and white world explodes into shades of gray, challenging Edith in ways she never imagined.
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This short is hot and sweet, holding a bit of something different. Kelly Rand sets her well-crafted story, Pearl, in the Roaring Twenties, in a small town where the biggest roar is boredom. Then she throws the doors of possibility open.


Edith, she of the ordinary name, ordinary job, and ordinary life, finds her biggest excitement in her friend’s engagement and her secretarial job. She lives with her widowed mother, stifled by routine and custom: excitement is for other people, and comes with a share of gossip. Why, for instance, does the neighbor cringe away from the world? The sorrow of losing a daughter long ago, Edith is told, and no one but she considers where a gain might lie.

A handsome, androgynous man, Clark, comes to visit the bereaved neighbors, and takes an interest in Edith. Little rebellions foment in Edith in the wake of their conversations—she’s less the dutiful daughter in small ways, suddenly insisting on thinking for herself and doing things that please her. If Clark suggests going to a gin joint (This is Prohibition in the US and Temperance time in Canada), then Edith is ready to shed a little convention and go.

The gin joint assists in shedding more conventions; women dance wantonly with men or other women, men hold hands, and no one looks askance. Edith finds her own inhibitions dissolving, and learns who Clark once was.

When even walking home alone from church if mama wants to stay and chat is a daring act, Clark’s remaking of himself takes supreme courage, something Edith admires after the initial shock. If Clark can take on a new life, so can Edith, because life is much bigger than the tiny chunk of it she’s allowed.

Kelly Rand uses tiny acts with great effect—she outlines the stifling life Edith leads with a few deftly drawn motions, and Clark’s freedom shows in the small things, like owning two hats. An entire sea of sex opens up with one statement—One day I’ll kiss you there—and Edith’s world is about to get a lot bigger. The charm of this story is far larger than the twenty-four pages.
4.5 Marbles

A Blog Hop excerpt from Edward Kendrick

Edward Kendrick, another of our Colorado authors, has a little snippet from a work in progress that went with one of the Thousand Word Thursday Pics.

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“Why don’t you look around while I have a few words with Juste,” Dilys told Tien.

Tien took the hint and strolled down one of the aisles, stopping when he found the section dedicated to the paranormal. Pulling out a book that looked intriguing he began to thumb through it, found an interesting story and began to read. He got lost in it, so when Juste tapped his shoulder he jumped, almost dropping the book. Embarrassed, he shoved it back where he found it.

“Dilys is ready to leave,” Juste informed him, a smile quirking his lips up. 

When Juste didn’t move Tien frowned, started to turn to go the other way, and realized the aisle dead-ended at a wall.

Juste chuckled and stepped aside, saying softly, “You’re welcome to come back any time.”

Wondering what game Juste was playing, Tien decided he wouldn’t go there so he replied, “Maybe I will. You have some interesting books here.”

“Good. Always like to have new, happy customers.”

Again Juste was watching him as he had earlier in the office. And again Tien wasn’t certain what to make of his scrutiny. It certainly couldn’t be for the reason he was thinking. Not from a man as gorgeous as Juste, a man who probably had all his female customers eating out of his hand.

Tien inched past him, more than ready to find Dilys and get out of the store before he let his imagination get the better of him. A hand landed on his shoulder and he froze.

“Here, take this with you so you can finish it.” Juste held out the book Tien had been reading.

“I can’t afford…”

“I’m loaning it to you.” Juste smiled as he waited for Tien to take it.

“Thank you,” Tien whispered. He practically grabbed the book, ignoring the spark of desire he felt when their fingers brushed. Tucking it under his arm he walked quickly to where Dilys stood, let her know he was there and when she placed her hand on his arm he led her out of the store without a backward glance.

“Be careful around Juste,” Dilys said once they were safely on the sidewalk.

Lying through his teeth he replied, “He doesn’t seem all that dangerous.”

“Tien, believe me when I say he can be very dangerous, in a variety of ways. He is after all a Loup Garou.”

“He has no reason to come after me,” he muttered.

Dilys laughed softly. “Unless I miss my guess he might have every reason to come after you. He’s quite partial to men.”

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Edward has a new release coming!  An Honorable Man will be out Saturday, June 16, just in time for Father's Day.

Paxton, a forensics scientist whose wife has deserted him and their twin sons, becomes embroiled in trying to catch a serial killer when the boys discover a human finger-bone while rock-hunting. As more bodies turn up, and his housekeeper takes temporary leave, Paxton turns to Jordon, the boys’ grade school teacher, to watch them after school.

 

There is only one problem, Paxton and Jordon were lovers before Paxton married. Now, with his wife gone for the past two years, Paxton finds he still has feelings for Jordon, feelings which may be reciprocated. For the sake of his sons who hope their mother may someday return home, and his own belief that she might, he fights to be an honorable man.

 

 Get updates on Edward's news here at his blog.