Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Monday, August 11, 2014
NEW E-BOOK: Trial (Life Prison: Hell's Messenger #1)
"Compassion's Keeper took his hand off the dagger hilt only long enough to turn a page. '"Sentenced to sixty lashes of the leaded whip. Sentence commuted to a transfer to Compassion Life Prison."' The Keeper raised his eyebrows. 'That's the first time I've ever heard a transfer to this prison described as a commutation. We'll assume that particular phrasing was meant as a joke.'"
The prisoner has suffered endless pain and has raised a rebellion. Now he faces his greatest trial.
For fifteen years, Tyrrell has struggled against odds to better the lives of his fellow prisoners. Now he must start all over again, for he has been transferred to Compassion Prison, reputed to be the worst life prison in his nation. The first signs of trouble at his new prison are brutally armed guards, a probing physician, and a Keeper of mysterious motives. But Tyrrell knows that, when he walks into his new cell, he'll face danger beyond measure:
The prisoners of Compassion, who are waiting to test him.
This suspenseful novella (short novel) can be read on its own or as the first story in the "Hell's Messenger" volume of Life Prison. Friendship, desire between men, and the costs of corruption and integrity are examined in this multicultural speculative fiction series, which is inspired by prison life at the end of the nineteenth century.
Tags: bisexual and gay characters, multicultural, prisoners, guards, wardens, spies.
He lay on the cold concrete in the darkness, cursing in an indiscriminate manner that embraced every guard he had possessed the misfortune to be serviced by. The chill of the ground, combined with his wetness, had set him shivering, and he could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had caught his cheek as he fell. In an automatic manner, he checked his teeth. They were all there, except for the four he had lost over the years, courtesy of past guards.
He allowed Bailey to pull him onto his feet, and as he did so, he realized that laughter echoed in the dark room. The laughter did not come from either of his guards.
He raised his head. He was in a large, high-ceilinged room. That much he could tell from the echoes and from the fact that he could not see the ceiling. Most of the room was lightless. But in the left-hand corner ahead of him, on a balcony about where he would expect a ceiling to be, sat two men lit by wall-lamps. Both wore dark blue uniforms, and both had their boots resting in a leisurely manner on the low, barred railing of the balcony. Both had rifles in their laps, and both rifles were pointed straight at Tyrrell.
Tyrrell felt his empty stomach lurch. One of the men who had been laughing called across the room, "Mercy's man! What gift do you bring us today?"
"Compassion's man!" Oslo called back in a casual manner that suggested he was acquainted with the other guard. "I have a prisoner transfer for you. Fresh meat for the banquet."
The rifle-bearing guards seemed to appreciate this small witticism more than Tyrrell thought it merited; they hooted with laughter. "Tenderizing the meat, are you?" asked the second guard, who held a cigarette between his lips.
"Oh, believe me," said Oslo, grinning, "I've poked the meat quite thoroughly to make sure it's well done."
Tyrrell rolled his eyes. Even Bailey winced at Oslo's poor wit.
The first guard lifted his rifle and set it aside. "Ah, what a pity we will not be able to feast at length on him at our banquet. But we are somewhat gentler on our prisoners than you are at Mercy Prison. How many fuckings a year do you service each of your prisoners with? One hundred? Two hundred?"
"We're working on raising the number." Oslo's voice held nothing but amusement.
"Whereas we are unlikely to see your prisoner more than once or twice this year . . . if that much." The first guard pulled his boots off the railing and leaned over the railing, remaining in his chair as he scrutinized the scene before him. The wavering light of the gas-lamps on the balcony wall moved shadows across his face, which was thoughtful. "Hard to say from this distance," concluded the guard finally. "Why the transfer?"
"Your Keeper knows. You can probably guess. His name's Tyrrell."
The second guard, who had removed his cigarette from his lips in order to tap it over a spittoon nearby, went suddenly still. The first guard raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Oh-ho!" he said softly. "So that's the way of it. I was wondering how long it would be before Mercy's Keeper lost patience with those riot-rousers he's been housing. What happened to the others?"
Oslo shrugged. "We'll know when we get back. The first decision our Keeper made was to arrange this transfer. Your Keeper seemed willing to take him in."
The first guard shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "Our Keeper," he said, "has all sorts of grandiose plans for this prison, though whether any of them will come to fruit is another matter. I suppose that servicing riot-rousers is part of his plan. Will you break your fast with us? Starke likes to arrive early for his gunner duty . . ." He gestured toward the second guard. "But I prefer to extend my dawn break as long as possible. You're welcome to join me in the guards' dining hall. The night watch will be coming off-duty soon, and I can introduce you."
"Yes," muttered Bailey through gritted teeth. "Warmth. Yes."
Oslo ignored him. "Good food wouldn't go amiss," he said, smiling. "And I hear that Compassion Life Prison is famed for that."
More hoots of appreciative laughter erupted from the first guard, though the second was busy drawing a long lungful of smoke from his cigarette and scrutinizing Tyrrell with an expression he could not read.
"We promise to feed you only the best," replied the first guard, getting to his feet and reaching toward a hand-sized lever set within a small, red hatch on the wall. "Come to the dining hall when you've delivered your charge. You remember the way, I'm sure."
"I hope I do," said Oslo, beginning to tug Tyrrell forward into the darkness, "but everything may be changed here, from what I hear. Your Keeper seems to want to turn things upside down."
"We'll see," said the second guard as his eyes followed Tyrrell's progress. His voice was barely audible, and his expression was hidden behind a puff of smoke. "We'll see. . . ."
¶ Available as a multiformat e-book (epub, html, mobi/Kindle, pdf, doc): Trial.
Click on the covers for more information. The online editions are free; the newly-reissued multiformat e-book editions are as priced.
RECENT CATEGORY BESTSELLERS
Click on the covers for more information. "The Breaking," "Love and Betrayal," and "Re-creation" are also newly reissued in multiformat.
REISSUED IN MULTIFORMAT
Click on the cover for more information.
"This series takes very complicated ideas and executes them masterfully.. . . I've never seen anyone handle the subject matter better." —Megan Derr's Top Ten MM Fantasy and MM Sci-Fi book lists (Scorching Book Reviews) on The Eternal Dungeon.
"A powerful tale of two men who accommodate the needs of each other – and learn to find happiness in a hopeless situation." —Amazon (Lee Phillips) on Pleasure (Slaves of the Northern Corporate Dominion).
My new series in the Turn-of-the-Century Toughs cycle is Darkfics, which is simply a collection point for all the side stories in the five Toughs series: The Eternal Dungeon, Life Prison, Michael's House, Commando, and Waterman. Many of the stories are free. The stories are listed in chronological order of the date when they were set, with a timeline interspersed, so even readers who have already read all of the side stories may find this page of interest.
If you look carefully at that page, you'll notice that I've also listed stories and art which are created by other authors and artists but are set in the Toughs universe. This is one of my periodic encouragements to folks to please feel free to borrow my characters. My characters like to get out of my yard now and then.
I've updated at Subtext the list of writings by other authors that inspired my own work. Every time I think that list is finished, I reread another book and discover where my Muse got a story idea from. This time I reread the final chapters of Mary Stewart's heterosexual romantic suspense novel Nine Coaches Waiting ("I saw the look that came down over his face, bleak bitter pride shutting down over anger, and I knew that I had turned my world back to cinders, sunk my lovely ship with my own stupid, wicked hands . . ."), only to realize that I was rereading the final chapter of Unmarked.
My tags page is one of the most-visited pages at my website, so I've added more tags in hopes of making it easier for visitors to find the particular stories they're looking for. Asexual characters! Senior-aged characters! Afterlife! Rebels! BDSM! Age of Sail! Romantic friendship fiction! They're all here, along with many more tags.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Friday, July 4, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
When President Alvarez dies unexpectedly, Enry Pruitt is forced into the foreground where he fears his long held secret may be exposed. The new president is gay, and the object of his affection is an officer in the armed forces of which he is commander-in-chief. Navigating his way through the rough seas of a country in crisis, the inexperienced young president must deal not only with his desires, but with a trail of horrendous atrocities from an unknown assailant as well. When an old friend tries to locate him, Enry fears that a lost weekend in Singapore years ago may threaten his career and so much more.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Buy Now! Kindle ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Ellora’s Cave
Baker Neve Rush is surprised to receive social media attention, both the good and bad varieties, after agreeing to bake a wedding cake for a lesbian couple. She cares about people’s tastes in pastries, not sexual partners. The newfound fame has gained her new customers—as well as one resurfaced ex. Gianna stirs up memories Neve would rather forget, and an impromptu flirtation with a client might just do the trick.
Judy Goldsmith finds Neve’s open-mindedness refreshing and attractive, and isn’t above a little scheming to get to know her better. As Neve and Judy satisfy each other’s sweet tooth in the most pleasurable ways possible, feelings begin to blossom. But their deepening attraction may not survive a little white lie…and an even bigger, darker secret.
A Romantica® GLBT erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Friday, June 20, 2014
At Turner’s, gossip and beverages are as important as sharp scissors, but clients know they are safe from having anything repeated. Leaking any privacy is as fireable an offense as putting a side pony on the wrong head. Despite the fact that gossip stopped with Aaron Turner, the owner of the high end salon, the prominent hair stylist wouldn’t miss being out on the floor listening to the stories traded like pirate currency. The murder of a senator is the talk of the day, and the young man accused had been with Aaron only two weeks earlier. He had been a hot fling, but a murderer – no way. When a few more murders occur, including the stylist’s best friend, Trixie aka Robert Landers, who in full makeup was a star, a sexy new detective makes an unannounced visit to Turner’s.
Stretching his arms, he yawned, twisting his lithe body. The lakeside house had the feel of old money, and the client had been easy, but this patron was the exception. Clean and polite, he took his time and never asked for anything kinky. It was rare for the young man to go to a trick’s home, preferring ‘in calls’ at his tiny apartment. In this case, the money was always worth the time. This trick would arrange a meeting downtown and then bring him back to the large house. Glancing around the room, the young man continued to note how expensive everything looked. The place was obviously taken care of by a staff, or a trophy wife. Many of his best clients were married men of means who would always live buried deep inside the closet.
A trim middle aged man walked in from the master bathroom wearing a robe. Bringing a fold of bills from the pocket, he handed them down to the younger man who was still in bed. Smiling from his nest in the pillows, the ‘for hire’ leaned up to accept the money. The still grinning client was proof that he had done his job well.
Two weeks earlier the prominent hair stylist and owner of Turner’s salon had a long late night make-out session with the same young hustler. “Wow, that kiss is like your superpower,” Aaron told the young man with a grin after the first hot meeting of their lips. “I’m all weak in the knees!” Cody had just laughed as they went at it again on a dark banquet on the bar’s second level.
Aaron knew how Cody made his living. Everyone knew. The stylist was not a client, but he liked his guys the way he liked his salad greens – a little wild. The short, hot fling had not come to equal love for either of them, but Aaron had liked Cody a lot. Hearing that the young hustler had been booked on murder charges for killing a senator was hard to believe. Powerful men often held powerful secrets, but even if the senator had hired Cody, Aaron could not imagine the young man killing anyone.
The entire salon went quiet as two handsome officers entered and were led to the back where the senator’s former wife (Babs) sat. Aaron, scissors in hand, was behind her. Missy and Franny, two well known socialites who had watched the handsome young officers enter the salon along with everyone else, cut looks at each other while brushing away salon attendants who were trying in vain to get the women to return to their stylist’s stations. It would have taken an avalanche bomb squad to unseat the pair from their front row perch to the drama playing out in Turner’s that rainy afternoon.
“How did you know I was here?” Babs flirted with Detective Matt Stone as she perched herself on the edge of the desk, folding a long, toned leg behind the other one. Aaron was thankful that she didn’t reach up and unclasp the top button of her blouse as she ate the hot blond Officer Stone with her eyes as if he were made of sugar and whipped cream.
“We appreciate the use of your office, Mr. Turner. Could we have a few moments alone with Mrs. Hickman?” Matt asked. Despite the age difference, the young officer appreciated the well preserved cougar in front of him.
“Of course,” said Aaron, who had nearly been panting with lust at the sight of the other detective, sexy Eli Young. The uniform on the hot officer was icing on the cake, as far as Aaron was concerned.
“Do you know Cody Patterson?” the detective asked.
“Yes. Not well, but I know him.”
Eli traded a knowing glance with his partner, and then turning to Aaron he said, “Perhaps we should speak somewhere else, Mr. Turner.”
“Let’s go to the storage room,” Aaron answered as if he had been planning to couple up with the man he just met. In his mind he had already turned down the lights, folded back the sheets, and shot the cork off of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot 1996. Aaron led Eli to the small storage room, stepping aside to allow the officer entry. The stylist had to physically restrain himself from reaching over and stroking the smooth dark skin of Eli’s cheek as the officer began to question him.
“Thursday at Ten,” by James Brock, is a murder mystery packed with zany hair stylists, over-the-top drag queens, shallow socialites, sexy detectives, too many suspects to mention, and is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Kobo, All Romance ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Available in print from Amazon.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Just added, The Incredible Heidi Wasabi , my paranormal MMF. http://www.adultebookshop.com/The-Incredible-Heidi-Wasabi-p-2601.html
Shakti or succubus? Faithful spouse or figment of the imagination?
Whatever she is, Rufus and Steen would not have made a grand success in
their chosen profession, as the stars of the heavy metal band Virgen
Steel, without Heidi. And they probably never would have gotten married -
to each other, anyway. This is her incredible story.
A FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR
Gay romance available now at Ellora’s Cave
Purchase link: http://www.ellorascave.com/a-friendly-neighbor.html
Kyle isn’t typically a voyeur but when his sexy neighbor forgets to close his curtains, he finds it difficult to look away. And why should he? It’s just a little harmless fun and maybe an erotic bit of self-pleasure to balance out the long hours he’s put in on the job lately. Next time he’ll exercise some self-control and turn away from the too-hot for words spectacle, but just this once he’s determined to let himself enjoy the show.
Jackson might have been offended by his neighbor’s voyeuristic evening had Jackson not taken advantage of the delicious show he unwittingly inspired. Unwilling to let the opportunity to turn a smoldering fantasy into a scorching hot sex life, Jackson invites Kyle over for a drink and is pleasantly surprised to find Kyle is smart, sexy and someone Jackson wants to get to know—in bed and out.
Somewhere on earth there had to be a quiet place to sleep but unfortunately it wasn’t located anywhere near Kyle Remington’s apartment. He was stuck in quaint little Key’s Crossing, population ten thousand, in what was marketed as an upscale complex with a mere ninety-nine neighbors.
He rolled onto his belly and pulled a pillow over his head. The low, mournful sound invaded even his private blackness. He liked cats, really he did, but not at midnight. Never again would he rent in a complex that allowed cats, no matter how swanky the accommodations.
It was for the pure stylish luxury of the place Kyle had endured two years on a waiting list to live at the Keys Towers. A fourteen-hundred-square-foot loft-style apartment just five minutes away from a train station for only fourteen-hundred dollars a month and an option to purchase in two years was unheard of this close to New York City.
Add a newly renovated kitchen and he couldn’t turn it down even though he’d had reservations about the open floor plan. Who cared if it was actually in New Jersey? Now that he’d lived in the space, he loved it. Well, except for the noisy cat whose mournful meowing gave him weird-ass dreams about twelve kittens sitting in his bathtub singing Christmas carols and brought him out of what was once a sound sleep.
The yowling took on a desperate edge. Kyle rolled from the bed in one fluid motion and shoved the curtains aside. His heart stopped as he peered across the moonlit central courtyard. A tiger-striped cat sat on a ledge just off a fourth-story balcony. The beast turned its head and stared at him, its green eyes glowing fiercely in the moonlight.
His course was clear. He had to get to that poor creature and rescue it before it fell to its death. Kyle counted the number of windows in from the corner of the building. If the units in the east wing were on a par with the ones in the west wing, he needed to go up the “B” stairwell and knock on door number three.
His sleep-deprived brain regained clarity. Wait a minute. How’d that critter get out there in the first place? It had to have found an open a balcony door, or window, so it stood to reason it could perhaps get back inside the same way. Kyle took a closer look at the rows of windows in the opposite building and spotted sheer curtains blowing in the breeze. The cat must have exited there.
Who would be so irresponsible as to allow their pet to go out on that narrow ledge? The cat lifted a front paw, seemingly unconcerned about it precarious perch, and began to wash with a complete disregard for its position. Come tomorrow, he’d go knock on the door and explain to the owner just how bad an idea it was to allow the cat to do what cats do in an unsafe spot like the ledge.
He reached to pull his curtains closed, pausing as a movement inside the apartment across the way grabbed his attention. A light came on.
Just because he’d never in his life had voyeuristic tendencies before didn’t mean he couldn’t have them now. Kyle backed into the shadows and sat on the foot of his bed to watch the young man across the courtyard disrobe.
The fellow was tall and slender, verging on too thin for Kyle’s personal preferences although, he decided, the angle and the moonlight did trick the eye. In the low lamplight it was impossible to determine if the guy’s hair was brown or dark blond as Kyle watched him skim out of his t-shirt and toss it aside. Arms over his head, he stretched for the ceiling and pushed his palms together. Even at a distance, Kyle discerned the gentle rises and dips of skin over the man’s ribs as he slowly lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders.
Kyle stared, transfixed by the smooth motions as the young man threw his head back and arched his spine. He couldn’t see if the guy had much hair on his torso, and maybe it was his own imagination that filled in dark discs where the man’s nipples should be, but in the moment he didn’t care. Kyle rubbed his chest and squeezed his own nipples. The familiar jolt of pleasure sped along nerve endings to the base of his cock.
He stopped. He wasn’t going to sit here and jerk off like some sexual deviant while that guy undressed.
Not. Gonna. Do. It.
Across the courtyard, a pair of jeans slid off slender hips and hung suspended, covering the other man’s genitals and kept the line where thigh met body hidden. Kyle drew a fingertip from his balls to his hip, caressing his own soft skin but in his imagination, he touched the mystery man. His dick swelled in a few pounding heartbeats.
Just this once. He’d jerk off watching him just once.
A FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR
Gay romance available now at Ellora’s Cave
Purchase link: http://www.ellorascave.com/a-friendly-neighbor.html
Between the Keys blog: http://kckendricks.blogspot.com