Sunday, September 8, 2013

WIP - The Hacker and the FBI Agent - New

Tito Dilante swore he was being followed. By who, he didn’t know, but it made him nervous. It made his employer even more nervous, For Tito is a hacker, one of the best in the country. He didn’t believe he was doing anything wrong, even if what he did was considered illegal. It was when he was assigned a task that was much further than he’d ever gone that his opinion on the matter changed. But there was no saying “no” to his employer.
What he found was worse than anything he’d ever come across and he wasn’t sure what to do with the information. No way could he turn this over to his employer. Paranoia set in, causing him to hide and eventually—run. But the shadow he felt was still with him. Nowhere did he feel safe. And whoever was following him was getting closer. Tito couldn’t erase the information he found from his mind, even if he were to rid himself of the physical evidence. Now what was he going to do?
Special Agent Trace Hampton was torn between enjoying this surveillance job and annoyed that he was finding himself attracted to the object of his tailing. Tito Dilante, hacker extraordinaire, and a man as cute as Trace had ever seen. Damn.
Trace wasn’t out at work, and his attraction for Tito was not only a complication, but inappropriate. But he couldn’t help his heart speeding up, or his temperature rising whenever he caught sight of the beautiful man. And things got that much more complicated when Tito fled. It took Trace nearly 72 hours to find him again and when he did, he was stunned at the difference in the man. Tito was scared shitless, and Trace wanted to know why…and comfort the man. Holy hell!

Trace finally moved in and caught his quarry, but when he found out what was scaring Tito so bad, things began to spiral into insanity and for the first time, Trace questioned the organization he worked for. Could the FBI really be behind the treason that Tito’s information eluded to? And what was he going to do with that information—and Tito?

Saturday, September 7, 2013

WIP - Untitled Shifter story - New

Corrigan wasn’t sure how he ended up in the predicament he was in. Last thing he remembered was the hotel room and the gorgeous man that was his client. He’d pressed his body against the man, winding his arms around the man’s shoulders in preparation for giving him what he was paying for and then felt a burning prick against the skin of his neck. Everything was blank after that, until he woke up in a luxurious room—and a locked door.

Weeks went by before Corrigan finally saw his captor again, and sadly, he knew there was no one who cared whether Corrigan fell off the face of the earth. He’d been thrown out of his pack, ostracized for being gay. But so far, he’d been unable to shift while confined to the room he was very familiar with now. He could kick himself for being drawn to the shifter that had picked him up. He’d just been so…relieved…to have another of his kind be interested in him, regardless that he had been there to pay for sex with Corrigan.

As time passed, Corrigan wondered if the other shifter was ever going to let him go. He treated him well, fed him, gave him expensive clothing, gifts—spoiled him. But never once gave him freedom. Corrigan’s new world became the room he occupied and the shifter who held him captive. And there was something else…the man’s eyes. They were unusual light amber, even for a wolf, but it was what Corrigan saw in them that had him confused.


Jadrian wasn’t sure what possessed him to grab the rent boy. He’d been surprised to realize he was a shifter, which only made what Jadrian had done that much more complicated. But what really dumbfounded Jadrian was he was falling for the younger wolf. He watched the shifter through the two-way hidden mirror day after day.

He’d been alone for so many years. Something that drove a pack species mad and Jadrian had no problem thinking he might be insane. After all, he kidnapped a shifter rent boy and was holding him captive—and had no intention of ever letting him go. He made sure to give the boy everything he needed, and a lot of what Jadrian thought he might want. He was shocked the shifter hadn’t asked to be set free.

As he got to know Corrigan, his wolf became interested in the other. Something that hadn’t happened to Jadrian ever. His wolf was aloof, having acclimated to being a loner. Jadrian had never liked being isolated. Maybe that’s what prompted him to wander that night and snatch Corrigan for his own personal mate. Mate?

It was forbidden within all packs for an Alpha wolf to have a male mate, but Jadrian had never been attracted to females, and his wolf refused to be sexually dominant with them. Hence, he was without a pack…or a mate. Until now.

WIP - Untitled Bittersweet story - 1111 word count

Dexy watched the blood well up on his wrists, the color a vibrant red. If not for the consequences, he was sure Mosby would think it quite artistic as it trailed down his forearms, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He could see pools beginning on the mattress on either side of him, but there was no one left to care. He looked up and around at the extravagant and luxurious bedroom he’d shared with Mosby. He saw his lover’s touch everywhere, from the muted inset lighting in the ceiling, to the understated color composition of the décor, to the expensive art on the walls. He gave a weak smile. Mosby had such great taste, despite falling in love with a loser like him.
He leaned his head back against the ornate oak headboard and closed his eyes. To this day he did not understand what Mosby saw in him. He was damaged, broken and yet Mosby picked him up, dusted him off and announced he was the love of Mosby’s life. What Mosby’s love did for Dexy was beyond sublime and a miracle as far as Dexy was concerned. But now Mosby was gone, taken away like every other good thing that ever tantalized Dexy with the potential for happiness.

Mosby had been the one bright promise in Dexy’s miserable existence. A promise that lasted much too short a time and then was ripped away as if Dexy didn’t deserve the kind of love Mosby gifted him with. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t worth such a pure human being as Mosby. But no one could say they loved Mosby more than Dexy did. And he made sure his lover knew it with every breath he took, with each reverent touch and gentle kiss, any and all words that left his mouth. Dexy loved Mosby with his whole heart and soul—and his body. There was nothing Dexy wouldn’t give Mosby, and now, as the pools of blood grew, he would give Mosby his life.

WIP - Untitled Vedmak story - New

Kievan Dusan is half Vucari and half Vedmak with the gifts of both living in the modern world. A world he understood little of.
Thrust into the 21st Century by an ancient curse, those that found him called him Witcher. Kievan remained silent about his other half, not knowing how these strangers would react to having a Vucari amongst them, and possibly persecute him as they did in his time.
They were kind but wary, and once they aided him, sent him on his way. He found himself in a city, the wonders keeping him in awe. But the cruelty in which the humans treated each other was tragic and more than Kievan could bear. Kievan didn’t stay. He couldn’t as he absorbed the pain of those around him. Besides, he couldn’t become his Vucari self in all this concrete and glass.
He soon found himself among a pack of Shifters, blood brethren to his Vucari. Again, he remained silent, not wanting to reveal either of his halves. They welcomed him, as if they sensed his kinship, though they did not push for any explanation.
It was after several years with the pack calling themselves Olen that Kievan started to relax his vigilance. It was a mistake. Practicing his magic away from prying eyes was vital. But he’d not been diligent and was now worried that young Stepan would reveal his secret. When he confronted the shifter, he realized, Stepan would never betray him—for Stepan was in love with him.
Kievan’s heart sank, for a Vedmak was forbidden to take a mate. But Kievan’s Vucari was insistent that Stepan was his. The war within himself was tearing him apart and wreaking havoc with his power, and his feelings for Stepan only made things worse. Kievan’s only solution was to leave. Which meant leaving Stepan behind.

He only hoped that Stepan would understand in time and forgive him, and that Kievan’s own heart would heal. What he didn’t count on was what Stepan would do.

WIP - Untitled Futuristic Story - New

Sorban was pleased that he lived in a world scored of strife and violence. As a teacher of galactic history, he knew intimately what earth used to be like. Led by the omnipotent AIL, it was paradise realized for the men that inhabited the planet. He was also happy that the Artificial Intelligence Leader had paired him with Linder.
Linder was such a strong, masculine man, a wondrous lover and a solid provider. Now it was time for them to add to their family. They had been approved for the breeder program, WBP having identified them as excellent fathers. He just wasn’t sure what to make of Linder’s reluctance.
Linder certainly loved his bonded mate Sorban, but had found himself unsatisfied with their sexual life. His job with WBP exposed him to the female breeders and he found himself attracted to B131, a breeder with dark hair and bright green eyes. Not the breeder picked for his and Sorban’s offspring, but that hardly mattered when his feelings were forbidden. It was death to care for a breeder.
Like all men of the 23rd century, Linder was well aware of the success, yet bloody violence of the Homobellion in 2083. But, deep within himself, he didn’t believe the uprising was successful….or right, feelings that would mark him as a heretic and traitor. He watched and medically cared for the females owned by WBP, wishing more each day that they could be free. He just didn’t know what he was going to do about it…or B131, who was growing on him more and more.

Neither knew of the danger from the rogue females hidden away….

WIP - Untitled Fae Story - New

Shilah Meadows is one of the few Fae that can transverse between the Fairy Court and the human world. And even though it is forbidden, he takes the risk, just to get a glimpse of Tavish McVaughn. Shilah is captivated by the stunningly beautiful man…what he thought was a human. But as he makes trips to the human world, each time getting a bit closer to Tavish, he learns that Tavish is not what he seems.
In an abrupt meeting, he learns that Tavish is also Fae and is obsessed with the mystery as to why—and more importantly, how Tavish can live among the humans. Tavish seems oblivious to what he is which only makes Shilah more intrigued. How can a Fae survive in a world that doesn’t understand them? And what of Tavish’s powers?

Shilah has never seen Tavish exhibit the usual gifts Fae have, and the more he uncovers, the more questions arise. But as he takes more and more chances, getting caught looms ever closer. And then what? Tavish will be alone in a world that is cruel to that which is unknown. And if Tavish figures out what he is, Shilah must be there to protect him. For Tavish has captured Shilah’s heart, something that is unheard of among the Fae. 

WIP - Untitled Firefighter story - New

Royce Charter was happy with his life. A Firefighter for Del Norte County Fire Department, most of his shifts found him in the forests surrounding northern California. The only thing that bothered him was his past and where it left him. Family was a big part of it, his brother a firefighter too, though he worked back in Royce’s home state of Utah. Salt Lake City, Utah…where the rest of his Fundamentalist Mormon family lived.
What Royce had lived through was a secret he kept well hidden, along with his orientation. He struggled enough as it was to reconcile his upbringing with his desires. Which had left him a twenty-four year old virgin. But one thing was certain, there was no guilt that he’d began his mission, only to do what he wanted and never return. Now, he was free or so he believed.
But he was lonely too. A loneliness that consumed him when he wasn’t working. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, never having dated, or approached a man, or even been kissed. He didn’t even have experience with women. He’d be ashamed of all of it, if he hadn’t been subjected to the way of life his family led. It was wrong, but it had taken him years to figure that out, not knowing any better. It was his best friend’s older brother that enlightened him and gave him the courage to run.
Jannen Correlle was a suspicious hermit that protected his lone cabin deep in the forests of northern California. Once a prostitute in the mean streets of Los Angeles, he escaped that life to hide away from humanity. He buried the pain of his past and lived out a simple life that was peaceful and quiet and he cherished his solitude.
That is, until a careless camper started a forest fire that threatened his home and his life. But Jannen wasn’t leaving. No way was he giving up the peace he’d found. But it was difficult with firefighters crawling all over his land, one in particular. He didn’t know his name and was angry that he was attracted to the guy. He’d given up on anything that had to do with sex, and intimacy was not something he’d ever experienced or wanted.

WIP - Under the Deep - New

There wasn’t a wave that Dominique Mare hadn’t conquered. His awards spanned a full wall in his adopted parent’s home. He was the number one surfer in the entire world. But Dominique knew his secret was the reason he was so good at what he did. The kind couple that had taken him into their home would forever be loved by him, but time was running out. Soon, he would need to find a mate, the drive to do so making him linger away from the beaches longer and longer.  
He wondered, as he always did, if his parents knew what he was, what he became when he swam the ocean, what made him master of the waves that curled high and mighty onto the shore? They’d never indicated they thought he was any different, that he wasn’t just a normal man like his father. But he wasn’t—by a long shot.
The growing restlessness was taking its toll on his career and becoming a concern to those that knew him. There was no way for Dominique to explain without revealing what he was. He couldn’t do that. Dominique wasn’t stupid, knowing if it got out that he wasn’t like most people, his life would be over. He’d become an experiment for the humans that misunderstood all that was different.

So caught up in his thoughts and expanding misery, he got sloppy. Now he had the added complication of one, Truman Fedeli. How the hell was he supposed to keep the cute guy from spilling his guts and ruining Dominique’s life? And why was he thinking of the guy as cute? It was obvious Truman was scared of him, and it wasn’t as if Dominique had ever been attracted to nerds, much less a male nerd. Could things get any more weird?

WIP - Savior of the Wasteland - New

Lazarus was an enigma to both the feral vampires and humans and the so-called civilized hidden species that had destroyed Earth some 700 years before. No one found Lazarus if he didn’t want to be found, but many were looking for him, if they believed he existed.
Some legends said he was a vampire that could walk under the burning sun without turning to ash, especially now that the ozone layer was gone and unable to protect the wastelands that survived. Other legends counted him as human, with healing powers no one had ever heard of before. Most equated him with the son of a God they no longer believed in. No one knew his real name, dubbing him Lazarus the Risen. Too many years had gone by for any to remember why they called him that.
Water was a commodity that was more precious than anything else—clean water anyway. And Lazarus knew right where there was a small spring that bubbled up from deep beneath the sun-baked ground. A hidden well only he knew how to get to. Twice now, he’d had to capture humans that had been following him, stalking him like prey. He’d fed well those times, neither of his meals being any wiser to the increased dryness of their throats, or the dizziness that caught at them. They would remember nothing.
Despite what the others thought, Kiedis knew the myth called Lazarus existed. There was way too much conclusive evidence that the being was true. Kiedis was a scientist first and foremost; he knew how to extract proof from bits and pieces of random data. He’d been unable to convince the others of his findings, therefore leading to help in locating the half-breed. For that matter, the Osinor had threatened to take him to the surface and leave him for the savage vampires and wild humans. Kiedis had shuddered at the brutal death that would have been the result.
But, thanks to being part of the Osinor bloodline, Kiedis knew things the rest of his species did not, like how to travel to the surface without detection. None deemed this myth to be real, therefore there was no salvation of the vampires and humans that the Lemarets had almost eradicated. But then, they did not care one way or the other if the two species’ survived. Kiedis abhorred any and all senseless deaths. That he was ridiculed and ostracized for that belief was an understatement. He would be dead if not for his ties to the omnipotent Osinor, the invisible leader of their species.

Kiedis was determined to find this Lazarus. Find it and see if it truly could save humankind and the vampire race. 

WIP - The Power Within - New

Ronan, son of the Lenihan Pack alpha, never felt as if he fit in with the rest of the shifters. And as his twentieth birthday loomed, his father became increasingly agitated and cross with him. Never close with his father, Ronan took to wandering the hills and valleys of his home, sometimes for days on end.
Then, on the eve of his birthday, his father chained him to a wall in a remote cave. Begging and pleading to be set free, Ronan watched as his father shifted and waited—for what, Ronan didn’t know.
Ronan’s day of birth came and went and eventually his father let him go. But strange things began to happen that Ronan could not explain. Fires would alight from nowhere, a tempest would roll through their valley, leaving destruction behind, the members of the pack became more and more suspicious of Ronan, until finally, he was driven away.
Ronan made his way to other packs, only to be turned away again and again. He didn’t understand, didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such isolation. Across the country he traveled, avoiding any and all human habitats, eventually making his way to a remote beach. There, he found a tiny pack of four shifters.
He was strangely drawn to them, and they to him, welcoming him with open arms. He settled, living quietly, though the strange occurrences continued. But the four shifters only smiled, as if they had no concerns. As Ronan became comfortable among the four, their interest in him changed, all of them vying for his attention.
The day that Ronan turned twenty-one, he was confronted with truths he didn’t want to acknowledge. The four shifters became so much more to Ronan, and he learned of his heritage. A heritage that proved his father kept secrets, secrets that would change Ronan’s life forever.
For Ronan was only half shifter….

WIP - Untitled Scifi story - New

The only way to save the human race is to return to its origins. There, supposedly, is the Cradle of Élan, the beginning.
Those that were requested to travel the galaxy in search of the planet called Terra didn’t believe they’d find anything that could help human beings survive. The Blacpleague would soon wipe them all out and history told of the devastation that destroyed the planet humans came from. A devastation instigated by their own kind.
Ithai, the sycophant that was to travel with the Commander secretly believed they would find what they were seeking. Fables and myths for many others, he chose to accept them as the truth—desperately. Because in doing so, he just might believe he was destined to live too.
Commander Kraig was skeptical that Terra even existed. The little information they were given was pathetic. But, though he was half Faratu, he still had human blood in his veins. Which meant he could die as easily from the Blacpleague as undiluted humans. Even full Faratu were not spared, their home planet already fallen to the evil. His loyalty was now to his human half. So he took on the mission to find the Cradle of Élan on a planet thought to no longer exist.

A microscopic organism that decimated whole planets roamed the universe, consuming anything in its path. A plague that mutated to destroy any living thing it encountered. Mindless and insatiable, it traveled, blanketing every galaxy, every outpost, every colony and every species that lived. 

WIP - Untitled Airplane Pilot story - New

Jairus Cordova’s nightmares continued to feed his paranoia despite being back in the states for almost a year. His PTSD was getting worse, not better as his therapist said it would. Of course, he hid it well to keep the job he had. He had been a pilot in the Air Force and he damn well would be a pilot in his civilian life.
He was grateful to his buddy and fellow soldier, Forrest, for managing to bury his records enough that the background check Coralline Airlines required didn’t pick up his unstable psyche, or the injuries that required a large amount of pain medication. If Jairus couldn’t fly, he had nothing to live for. And he couldn’t fly EMT ‘copters…too many terror filled memories and a huge trigger for flashbacks.
What enraged him was the interference of an AVS agent with the FAA. He’d thought he was under the radar, but the stunningly gorgeous man was too perceptive and too wickedly smart for Jairus to hide much longer.
He also didn’t understand his attraction. He’d been straight when he entered the Air Force, then been forced to rely on fellow men to satisfy his sexual appetite, not something he was proud of. Not something he thought would follow him into his civilian life. But there was no denying he felt—something—for the agent…and it scared him to death.
Darian McCarthy loved his job in the FAA AVS LOB. He never aspired to be a pilot himself, but enjoyed the paperwork in certifying those that did. Rarely had he ever had to suspend or revoke a certification, which looked good on his government portfolio.
But disturbing information was coming in on a pilot with Coralline Airlines and Darian couldn’t ignore it. Twice there had been reports of flight deviation, the pilot straying from his registered flight plan with no reasonable explanation.
In his investigation, Darian was puzzled as to the limited amount of information on the man. He hadn’t been the one to certify him, and was even more stumped that his background and certification package did not list who did certify him, though it did note he’d passed the required 1500 hours of flight time and was signed off by his instructor.
 The deeper he dug, the more concerned he became until he finally requested a meeting with the pilot. Beyond the hostile exterior, Jairus Cordova seemed—tortured. It was the only word that Darian could come up with. But it was clear his certification needed to be withdrawn.
Darian was floored that his actions had him out of sorts, and he was spending an inordinate amount of time with the handsome man. That he was attracted to Jairus wasn’t the issue, it was the overwhelming belief that Jairus was broken, and dying inside. And Darian found himself wanting to fix him, to offer comfort—to love the man.

WIP - I Have Seen the Glory - YA - New

Dathan had finally realized his dreams. It had taken him twenty-five years, but he’d done it. Ever since his parents had abandoned him, left him to his own devices at thirteen, he was determined to find a place for those like himself to be safe and feel loved and wanted.
Now, as he looked down from the hill above the compound, he smiled, seeing the industry of the young men and women that inhabited Glory Ranch.
It was one thing to disapprove of your child’s choices, but another to turn your back on who they are. Dathan knew that pain intimately, and would work until his dying day to see just one youngster heal and become the strong person they were meant to be.
Dathan knew it would not be easy. There were still many obstacles to overcome; angry parents, suspicious townsfolk, arrogant authorities.  Dathan was thankful to have a few close friends around him as he geared up for battle. Every young man and young woman that came to him was worth the sacrifices he made, and the protection he provided.
He would not fail them as everyone else had.

WIP - Cashing In - New

Cash Duncan’s life was getting boring and lonely—and complicated. But getting out from under Erik Duranovic’s influence would not be easy. No one left the Russian Mafia—no one. It didn’t help that Cash was reluctant to be away from Erik’s son, Daniil. For the son of the Russian boss, Daniil was clueless—in an endearing, shy, innocent way—sort of. That Cash loved the man was a secret Cash kept close to his heart. He should be content with being one of Daniil’s bodyguards, not lusting after him. Erik would kill Cash for even thinking about being inappropriate with his son, no matter how many men had shared Daniil’s bed.
Cash counted himself lucky his job entailed only keeping Daniil safe, which was difficult as it was with Daniil’s wild ways. It’s not like the whole world didn’t know who Daniil was, but Daniil himself didn’t make things any easier. Cash had the scars to prove it, as did the two other body guards. Trouble always found Daniil, whether he was looking for it or not, and Cash suspected Daniil was looking for it.
If only he could snatch the beautiful man away, disappear from the world, and then maybe Cash could show Daniil how much he loved him.
Daniil used every man willing and able to try and keep his mind off his gorgeous bodyguard. Sometimes he wondered if his father had intentionally put such temptation in front of him on purpose. For what, he didn’t know. But Daniil wasn’t stupid, he knew who his father was, and though he was doted on and he didn’t doubt his father loved him, he was wary when it came to the employees, especially his bodyguards.
There were too many times Daniil had dreamt of running far away. Someplace where his father’s long reaching arm didn’t have influence. But in the twenty three years of his life, he’d never figured out a way. And the frustration grew each year to be trapped in a gold-encrusted, gilded cage.
Something had to give. Daniil could see that Cash was getting restless, and the last thing Daniil wanted was for the man loved to disappear without him.

WIP - Untitled Ballet Dancer story - New

Channing Fabry tried to content himself with teaching the young to dance, instead of dancing himself. It didn’t always work. To have an injury reduce him from one of the leading etoiles of The Paris Opera Ballet, to a lowly instructor in a small American town was both humiliating and depressing.
But, he’d had no choice and staying in France would have been too hard on him. He’d said his goodbyes to his mother and three little sisters and traveled the thousands of miles to become a dance instructor in a rural town in upstate New York. He’d found himself a small cottage on the edge of town, giving him some privacy which he desperately needed.
His students were delightful, despite their lack of expertise and Channing forced himself not to curse the prior instructor as he tried patiently to have his students relearn and put aside bad habits. Channing had never considered himself a patient man, but was finding out that simply witnessing a student learning a new step or form after many tries and the look of sheer joy on their face when they got it mastered was well worth the frustration.
The only thing that shattered Channing’s focus was the father of one of his littlest students, and the only boy. Tiny Mica was quite talented, even at only four years of age, but it was his father that held Channing’s attention. The man was stunning, even if he didn’t have the dancer body that Channing was usually attracted to. But then that could be because he’d been around dancers twenty-four seven and hadn’t really had a choice in bed partners.  
Too bad the man was straight and a father, and no doubt married to the boy’s mother. Not that Channing thought himself worthy of anything more than a casual fling. He’d been accused of being flighty, and fickle and too emotional—and clingy, which Channing vehemently denied.
Gianni Valio didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on his son’s dance teacher. It had been Emma’s wish that Mica learn to dance, though Gianni wasn’t sure she had ballet in mind. But his little boy was so—graceful, that Gianni thought it might suit him. Mica seemed to love it.
Channing, a slight man compared to Gianni’s 6’ 4” of muscle intrigued Gianni like no one else. It had been years since he’d had any kind of a relationship or a boyfriend. He’d been too busy with Emma’s pregnancy, which had been high risk, to Mica’s premature birth, to Emma’s disappearance to raising Mica on his own. A few hook-ups and one-night stands were all Gianni could claim and those had been few and far between.
He could feel his body strain and harden every time he was around the pretty Frenchman. And it only made him more attracted to Channing when he watched the man work with his son. At one point, Gianni had caught Channing staring at him, and he thought, just maybe, the interest was returned. But it didn’t happen again, and Channing was always cool and polite whenever he spoke to Gianni.
Gianni figured he was the one who was going to have to make the first move, he just wasn’t sure how to approach the beautiful man.

WIP - Who Do We Appreciate - New

Josy Cantrell has been bullied and made fun of most of his life, but he’s never cared what others thought of him. He did what he wanted, regardless of other’s opinions. So, senior year of high school found him captain of the cheerleading squad. After four years, he was the best, and fully expected to take his team to the Nationals…and finally win, despite the very gorgeous distraction by the name of Doccer Smythe.
He carried on his cheerleading into college, even with his parent’s withdrawing their financial help after finding out he was gay. Josy just got a part-time job to pay for his tuition and books. Luckily, his dorm room was paid for in advance, at least for his freshman year. He’d have to figure things out after that.
What he didn’t figure on was a certain stunning jock playing football at his University. A jock that hated Josy on sight. At least that’s what Josy thought, until one night at a frat party and things suddenly got very complicated…and hot.
Could Josy believe that Doccer cared for him? Would Doccer admit to what he was? Or would both young men crash and burn, one to learn loneliness, the other to learn the price for pleasing an unforgiving father. 

WIP - Untitled Twincest story - 552 word count

During the funeral, a strange man shows up, but mysteriously disappears before Milo can figure out who he is. As he goes through his mother’s belongings, he comes across evidence that he had a brother, but can’t find any more information on him
Unable to handle the pain of his mother’s passing, Milo moves back to his mother’s hometown where he meets his mother’s sister, a quiet, bitter woman who carries secrets of her own. Milo is looking for something, he just isn’t sure what.
Then, he meets a man who turns his world upside down. Curran is gorgeous, open, compassionate and sweet. That they look alike doesn’t click as Milo slowly falls in love. When he meets Curran’s father for the first time, he comes face to face with the mysterious man that attended his mother’s funeral.

What happens after that could tear them apart, but it might just bring them even closer than they ever thought possible.

WIP - Touching Music - New

McKenzie Cates wasn’t the megastar he’d dreamed of being, but he was content to play the small venues his agent booked for him. His biggest regret was that his little boy would never hear his songs. It broke his heart that Jonas would never share McKenzie’s love for music.
A single father, McKenzie yearned to connect with Jonas somehow, but wasn’t sure how he could. Then McKenzie met Deason Samuels, a volunteer at Jonas’ school for the deaf. Just watching Deason, you would never guess he was deaf as well. He spoke well enough that only those familiar with the hearing impaired could tell he wasn’t speaking normally.
McKenzie’s attraction concerned him though. He wasn’t sure he could sustain a relationship with a man that couldn’t hear, especially with his passion for music. He already had to deal with Jonas’ deafness. Then again, he was severely jumping the gun since he knew nothing about Deason, including if he was gay or not.
As time went on and McKenzie got to know Deason, his attraction grew. Strong enough that he decided he needed to make a move, or at least make his interest known. But, by the time he made up his mind, it was too late, Deason was already dating someone. A female someone. Dejected, McKenzie went on with his life, pulling away from spending time around Deason and concentrating on his music and his son.
Deason watched McKenzie with wary eyes. The man drew Deason in like a moth to a flame, but the last time that happened, Deason ended up nearly losing his life. Because he couldn’t hear, he was hyper-aware of others around him and could tell Jonas’ dad was attracted to him. He couldn’t allow that, not yet, he wasn’t ready.
Deason pleaded with his best friend, Mandy to pretend to date him, just to put a buffer between McKenzie and Deason’s attraction to him. Deason wasn’t prepared for how well that ruse worked, or how he would feel when McKenzie stopped coming around the school and disappeared from Deason’s life.

How could he learn to trust McKenzie and fix the damage he’d done? And what about Jonas, McKenzie’s adorable son? Deason never thought of himself as father material, more like a big kid and that’s not what either of them needed. At least in Deason’s opinion. 

WIP - The Were Man - 810 Word count

Kaynin is a wolf shifter living in the human world. Abandoned or stolen as a baby, he thinks he is one of a kind, until he is kicked out of his home for being gay and runs into trouble, only to be rescued by what appears to be a rough, biker gang.
What Kaynin doesn’t know is that every member of that gang is a wolf shifter as well. Confused and scared, he is unsure how to show gratitude for the gang’s help and yet get away from them. Kaynin never did handle intimidating men well, despite being a natural submissive.
Considered small and weak, he’d been picked on all his life, only to have distress, fear and anxiety shove him head-long into his first shift. Thankfully, the bully was a known liar and no one believed the crazy story of Kaynin turning into a wolf.
If only that one gang member—Malloy—would stop staring at him all the time, looking as if he wanted to eat Kaynin alive. That Kaynin was drawn to the man only made his decision to leave harder. But he couldn’t stay. He didn’t fit in with these huge, course yet stunningly gorgeous and hard men.
Malloy never thought in all the centuries he’d been around that he would finally find a mate. The little shifter was so pretty, so delicate and Malloy really questioned the gods’ choice for him. One hug and Malloy was liable to snap the small man in half. And yet, the mating aura glowed brightly around the younger shifter.
Already he’d been teased and tormented by his pack for being attracted, and encouraged by his alpha to claim the man before one of the others decided to, mate or not. It wasn’t as if any of them could see the aura surrounding the little shifter declaring Kaynin as his. Malloy’s only obstacle was convincing the small were himself that Malloy was the one for him.

Twice, Malloy had already had to retrieve the man from the streets, once when they first found him, and again when Kaynin tried to run. Both times resulted in injuries that made Malloy’s wolf roar in frustration and anger. Malloy’s alpha was right. The only way to keep Kaynin safe was to mate him once and for all.

WIP - The Valet - New

Taylan Howard was exceedingly grateful to his grand-uncle for getting him the valet job at a ritzy hotel in downtown Atlanta. It had taken him almost three years to escape his controlling father’s grip and make it back to America. His abduction by his father wasn’t news in the U.S., which actually made things a bit easier. That and Taylan was born in the United States. No green card for him!
He’d managed to locate his mother, only to be terribly disappointed in her and unwelcome. He’d thought she’d be happy to see him, but when she found out he was gay, she turned her back on him and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Now, he was staying in his grand-uncle’s basement. It was damp, and uncomfortable, but it had a bed and toilet. Good enough for now.
Taylan tried to do his job well, make his grand-uncle proud. He kept his temper when he was treated rudely, didn’t let his jealousy show as he watched wealthy and beautiful people come and go. Ignored the covert and overt propositions, and occasional gropes he was given…mostly by women. He wouldn’t have minded some of that from a man. But when he finally got attention from a very stunning and persistent gentleman, he wasn’t sure what to do. He was only 19, almost 20 and had hidden his sexuality. His father would have killed him if he’d ever found out.
Taylan kept his business with Gareth Cartwright professional, but even his grand-uncle could tell something was up. When confronted, Taylan told his uncle the truth, and to his surprise, his uncle was fine with both his orientation and his interest in the magnetic man. Taylan had been prepared to be thrown to the streets of Atlanta. A scary thought. But not only did that not happen, but Taylan allowed Gareth to romance him and was finding out he really, really liked it.
Gareth had never seen such an exotically sensual man as Taylan. He was naturally graceful, beautiful in his mixed race background and had Gareth enamored. Gareth was used to getting what he wanted, and Taylan was no exception, however he was learning quickly, that people…at least people of worth could not be bought for any price and their affection, trust and attention had to be earned. Gareth had every intention of earning all that with Taylan.

It wasn’t long after Taylan’s shy acquiesce to Garath’s interest that things went south quickly. Gareth’s father was scandalized at Gareth’s choice in a boyfriend and Taylan’s mother had sold out Taylan’s whereabouts to his Jamaican father. Just when Gareth had finally gotten Taylan to trust him, he was at the brink of losing him.

WIP - The Silent Voice - New

Slade Douglas knew his career was over when he left the doctor’s office. His agent knew it, his publicist knew it, his label knew it—and soon the public would know it. The Country music sensation from an inner city urban neighborhood, Slade Douglas, would be silenced.
The pain that realization caused drove Slade to return to the big city he came from and lose himself in the press of humanity in a neighborhood that didn’t listen to country music. There, he tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered life.
This was the place where he’d lost his father to liver disease, his mother to cancer, one brother to a gang and the other to drugs. The painful, yet familiar home where he lost the one person he loved most to a career—and a closet.
Slade didn’t expect to see Katsumi Santiago, thinking the boy—now a man, would have fled the harsh reality of a neighborhood full of gangs and violence. Kat was, well, delicate…sensitive…pretty. Slade wasn’t sure the boy he’d loved was even still alive. Too many times, he and two of their other friends had to protect Kat from getting beaten up.
Guilt always filled Slade when he thought about his abandonment of Kat. Ten years had passed since stardom called to Slade and he left, never looking back. His dreams were too big to risk telling Kat he loved him.
Now he was broken, his voice box irreparably damaged, his voice raspy and low, as if he’d been smoking since he was two, though he’d never touched a cigarette. A random viral infection scarring the vocal folds and rendering his voice weak and very different, and driving him home as a failure.
And there was no sign of Kat once he returned.
Kat couldn’t believe the entertainment news. The man he’d wanted since he was sixteen was no longer singing, his throat too damaged to continue. The sadness that welled up at Slade’s dying dream made Kat angry.
The man had left him, abandoned him to the violence and fear of those who tormented him all through school. Kat blamed Slade for the hell he’d gone through even if deep down he knew it wasn’t true. They’d only been friends, Kat never confessing his feelings and had even encouraged Slade to pursue his dream.
For a couple of years, Kat had even been proud that he might have had a small part in Slade reaching stardom. But soon, it dimmed and he was back to missing Slade, his heart broken even if the man didn’t know it.
However, Slade’s success motivated Kat to take back his life, to get out from under Lario Soto’s thumb, to stop being his whore and make a life for himself. It took running, getting away from the neighborhood, but Kat had done it.
Now, he ran a very successful line of Boutiques called Santiago’s all across the United States. They specialized in needs and accessories for the bedroom, from bedding to leather cuffs and everything in between. Just last year Kat broke the multimillion dollar net worth.

Unfortunately, with his success—and money—came threats. Threats from Lario and his gang. And the news that Slade was back in their old neighborhood and the object of those threats. Kat couldn’t let the man he loved die, but he didn’t want to cave to Lario’s demand for money—or his body. 

WIP - The Royal Shifter's Mate - 9466 word count

Shawel added his own howl to the general cacophony that was his soldiers celebrating yet another victory in the Kragon war, one that was bittersweet since it would be his last campaign with his fellow shifters. For later tonight, Shawel was to travel back to the Cluster Galaxy, his home and return to his father’s planet so that he could ascend to High Alpha—and take a mate. He stood near a wall, surveying the celebration going on in his honor. The high cavern ceiling made the noise amplified, almost painful to the ears. As his eyes wandered across the crowded expanse, he was again struck by the opulence of such a crude habitat. It was nothing more than a large cave, but there were columns of white marble, inlaid with gold, the floor was black, polished stone, the wall hangings ornate tapestries depicting the Lith’s history. Well, Shawel and his shifters had changed that history, conquering the somewhat weak Lith’s and taking another chunk out of the Kargon System.
“Oh, my Prince, but we will miss you!”
Shawel gave a growl and slapped his second on the shoulder—hard. Nearly knocking the inebriated shifter off his feet. “What have I told you Basn about calling me that? You know I don’t stand for ceremony like my father. And he’s not even a king, but a Supreme Alpha, no better, and certainly worse than my uncles.” Shawel gave a dark chuckle at his friend when Bans nodded before slopping more ale down his throat and stumbling off to find more. It was only his second’s drunkenness that kept Shawel from challenging his slip in words. Prince he may be thanks to his mother, but he had explicitly forbidden any of his senior officers to mention that fact. Basn would be taking over Shawel’s Lead Alpha’s position and would carry on the battles. Shawel only hoped his faith in and training of Basn would hold true and was well founded.
It was going to be easy to slip aboard his ship and leave, without the messy emotions of a farewell as he watched his regiment drown their happiness in ale and the whores of Lith, the latest Kragon world to succumb to swift defeat. He was both pleased and saddened to be leaving battle space. The Kragon war and many battles had been his entire world since he was old enough to shift. His father had not hesitated to send Shawel to his most ruthless uncle to be trained and then be sent off to bring pride and triumph to the Cluster Galaxy. Shawel had met and exceeded his entire race’s expectations, most agreeing at a hefty price. There were none in the Archonian Empire that did not fear Shawel, including his own father. All the Archonian shifters viewed Shawel as mighty, yet stoic, cruel and ruthless…almost vicious in his battles, killing without mercy and reveling in the dead and conquered.
Shawel was fine with that. Perhaps that fear would help keep his father from following Archonian law if Shawel failed to find a mate he wanted. No way would Shawel allow himself to be trapped on his father’s planet, or let the weakest of the Supreme Alphas pick a mate for him. Shawel’s distaste and lack of respect for his father was well known among the pack and would most likely affect his decision, but his Ascension would commence, and he would find—someone—to mate with, though his father was not going to be happy at his choice. Didn’t matter, he would chose who best suited him, be it female—or male-lan.
Shawel smiled—a smile that did not reach his eyes, as he moved along the edge of the cavern that housed his shifters. Time to leave. He stalked towards the arched exit, his gaze taking in everything from the condition of his soldiers, to the nakedness of the whores, to the location of every male Lith servant…or slave depending on who you asked. The Kragon’s were a despicable race, with no honor, no morals, and no regard for life. They took what they conquered and left the rest to rot, oppressing every world under their tyranny. Archonians have been battling the race for centuries. And Shawel would have continued to battle them directly, if not for his call home. But, already he had plans in place once he governed his own planet. Just because he was to become High Alpha and eventually Supreme Alpha, did not mean he couldn’t still fight.
Giving one last look around, Shawel swiveled on his heels and strode down the narrow passageway to the outside. Once he cleared the stone entry, he stopped and shifted, uncaring that his clothing remained as shreds on the ground. Shaking out his fur, he stretched, pleasure at being in his wolf form coursing through him. He lifted his nose and gave the air a hard sniff, the many odors assaulting his senses. He didn’t like any of the worlds that made up the Kragon System. They smelled funny and the air was too thick and heavy. Giving a snort of distaste, Shawel loped his way to his ship. His two sentries saluted him as he trotted up the ramp through the hatch and entered the small emissary craft. He would have much preferred to go home in his battle drone, but it would be needed in the war.
He shifted to human and without regard to his nudity, strode to the forward deck. Punching a button, he ordered his sentries inside and to close the hatch as he began preflight diagnostics. Task completed, he and his sentries settled into their harnesses for the re-entry into space. The emissary ship was one of the Archonian’s best achievements of technological advances and the usually rough transition from planet atmosphere into space was as smooth as Dronian marble.

Once free of the atmosphere of Lith and having engaged the gravity drive, Shawel entered the coordinates to take him home. He ordered his sentries into their cryo-chambers and then settled into his own. The computer would wake them up just before entering the Cluster Galaxy’s quadrant and the heart of the Archonian Empire.
Despite Shawel’s hatred of his father and grief over his mother’s death, Shawel was proud to be Archonian, the Empire having been the purveyors of justice and peace for more centuries than could be counted. He was excited to be going home, despite the regret at leaving all he’d known for the last three decades.The Royal Shift3er's Mate 

WIP - The Godling Lover - 29 Word count

Creelon wasn’t sure who his parents were beyond at least one of them being immortal. He lived upon a mountain and longed to live among the humans below him. His obsession with the lesser beings was frowned upon by his fellow Godlings, not that Creelon cared what they thought.
He was lonely, he needed someone to be close to, someone to care for him as his parents and siblings never had. Was that too much to ask? He was a Godling, with the power to manipulate light and matter. A lower immortal, but still powerful. Didn’t he deserve to be loved—and not worshiped?
He’d destroyed his own temple in a fit of despair as year after year crawled by interminably and his loneliness grew. Then, he had an epiphany to travel down among the humans. Why not? It wasn’t as if they would know he was a Godling, right?
There he met a man who would capture his heart. Problem was, the man was floundering in a deep depression, having lost his family in a terrible plane crash—a plane crash Creelon’s brother, Barnabas had created for amusement.

It would take everything Creelon knew of humans to crack the shell that surrounded this gorgeous man. But Creelon wanted him—badly. Somehow, he would get through to the man and show him a love that only a Godling could deliver.

WIP - The Devil Came Home - New

Devlin “Devil” Brown had run away from home at sixteen to join the circus. Cliché, certainly, but it was either that or, at minimum, get kicked out if his father ever found out he was gay. Devlin figured it was better to go on the offensive. He’d already experienced his father’s kind of solution to problems, and Devlin being gay would have been more than a problem. Devlin’s father would have killed him.
But now, seven years later, Devlin was worn out, tired of the nonstop performances, the too many adrenalin rushes, and constant vigilance when in any town. Devlin wanted to go home. But there was no home for him, and the one person he wanted to see in the entire world probably didn’t even remember him.
Devlin had a crush on Elister McBowan since he was twelve. Four years of yearning for the older boy, and seven missing him. They’d been friends, and Devlin suspected El knew he was attracted to him, but Elister always treated Devlin like an annoying little brother. There was never any interest back that Devlin had seen. And, to top it off, Devlin had run out on El too, disappearing without a goodbye, not that it would have mattered. El knew how bad Devlin’s home life was, but there was nothing he could do. His wasn’t much better.
Devlin had to do something soon though, or he was going to lose his mind. The circus was scheduled to perform in his home town in two weeks. That’s when Devlin would seek out the only man he’d ever loved and see if maybe he could at least salvage their friendship, though he wouldn’t hope for anything more.
Elister knew his sister Carol was right. He went through boyfriends like most people went through toilet paper. But they were all substitutes for the one man Elister wanted. A boy that disappeared one night seven years ago. No one knew what happened to Devlin Brown. The authorities hadn’t put much effort into finding him, mostly because his father was the local sheriff and that man hated his son. Blamed him for his wife’s death giving birth to him.
Elister had a lot of regrets in his life, but the biggest was not telling Devlin he wanted him. He knew the younger man was attracted to him, but Elister had been too scared to acknowledge his feelings back then. He’d been just a teenager, a kid, trying to figure things out, and dealing with an alcoholic mother that was clingy and dependent. He didn’t even come out until after his mother succumbed to liver disease. Carol had been supportive, Elister’s brother had not. But then, he was deputy to Devlin’s overbearing and extremely homophobic father.

Elister just couldn’t connect with any of the men he’d been with no matter how hard he tried. They weren’t Devlin. Being alone was something he’d accepted a long time ago. He would forever be missing a part of himself, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t let Devlin’s memory go, couldn’t let the ghost of a boy, who would be a man now, go.

WIP - The Dark Lord Luc - New

Gaan had an obsession. Probably one that wasn’t good for his health…or life. But he found himself at the Black Pit every night for the last two months. For what? To try to find out everything he could about a man named Luc.
Luc fascinated Gaan, with his tall, dark and dangerous looks. No one had ever captured Gaan’s attention like Luc did. And no one caused as much pain inside him either. Every time Luc’s hands were on another, Gaan’s body tightened in agony.
What little Gaan was able to find out was pure speculation. Oddly, when he asked about the man, no one seemed to know who he was talking about, but they certainly knew him when he was present. He didn’t understand.
He also couldn’t keep Luc off his mind. It was as if there was an invisible tether connecting his soul to Luc, one strong as steel, and yet that made no sense either. Gaan was well aware his grandfather was an angel, giving Gaan certain abilities, like judging character of those with no immortality. Not that Gaan was immortal. He wasn’t with his deluded blood.
Luc was a mystery, and a distraction. One that Gaan both welcomed and despised. The dark, enigmatic man also aroused Gaan like no other. Which was discerning since he’d never been attracted to a man in his long life.

Yes, Luc was an obsession. An obsession that nearly destroyed Gaan in the sweetest way—when Luc’s black eyes finally landed on him.

WIP - The A-Lister - New

Movie critic Gregory Hanson had loved his job. How many people could say all they had to do is watch movies and tell people what they thought of it, good or bad? And get paid for it? Well, used to get paid for it…
A day came when it wasn’t so fun anymore. The day a certain A-list movie star got pissed at him and sued him for slander. Gregory didn’t have the money to fight the suit—and lost everything.
He lost his job, his house, his car—his wife. She took their son and moved away, stating she wouldn’t stay with a loser. That only made Gregory madder at his predicament since he wasn’t a loser to her as long as he was making money.
But what really ticked Gregory off was the day of the hearing for restitution. He just assumed, since the star was so big, that he wouldn’t show. That his high-priced lawyers would be there and that’s all. He was wrong. Not only was the star there, but Gregory’s reaction to him was a shocker.
Sure, the guy was stunningly handsome, talented too. Gregory’s critique of the movie the man had been in hadn’t reflected on his acting in any way, even if the spoiled man thought so. It was Gregory’s attraction to the man that left him confused and flabbergasted.
But what came as even more of a shock was the actor’s demeanor. Not once did he look anyone in the eye. He said nothing as his lawyers babbled on, keeping his head down. Was he that conceited? Or was he simply bored? Or was something more happening here? Gregory’s confusion grew, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Garrett Middleton was not happy with his agent, or his publisher and certainly not his lawyers. He’d read that critique and it wasn’t hard to figure out it was the movie, and not Garrett’s performance that the man tore down. Garrett couldn’t blame him. He’d been wangled into the film to begin with, his agent thinking it was going to be the next big blockbuster.
It hadn’t. As a matter of fact, it was probably the worst movie Garrett had ever starred in. He hated it as much as the film critique did and wished he’d never done it. Now he was sitting in a court room, knowing the man sitting near him was ruined. The guilt ate at him.
He’d also been told in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut and not draw attention to himself. Garrett gave an internal snort. Of course not. No one, from the paparazzi to his audience to his fellow actors had ever heard Garrett’s speaking voice, his own voice. The one that stuttered so badly that he couldn’t string together two words without practically spitting on people. Not to mention the accent. No one wanted to know a star like Garrett was from a backwater town in the Appalachian Mountains with a 3rd grade education and dubious relations. And, to top it off, he was gay. Holy hell, they sure didn’t want that getting out, not with the caliber of female leads he could get just by looks alone.
But he had to do something as he watched the distress in the man from the corner of his eye. This Gregory Hanson didn’t deserve to be humiliated and financially ruined by Garrett who had more money than God.

As he surreptitiously stole looks at the man, he found himself attracted which was so not going to help the situation. Of course, it wouldn’t go anywhere anyway because his agent would have coronary. 

WIP - Storm on the Mountain - New

Ashton Storm had been forced into this vacation by his sister, the overbearing bitch that she was. But she’d forbidden him from riding until he got his head together. At least she’d picked a place that had horses. Of course, it was his money paying for it, just like it paid for his sister’s high-end lifestyle.
As he stood with the other five guests and the three employees of Mountain Platte Ranch, he did what he always did—people watch.
The employees didn’t really interest him. There was Greg, who looked more like a computer geek than someone who could handle a horse. Across from Ash was Ginger, a small red-haired woman wearing cowboy boots and a bandana around her neck. Then there was Mack, who was so big, Ash wondered what horse could possible hold him. Certainly not the jumpers that Ashton trained and competed with.
It was the other guests that drew his attention more. To his left was a duo of women, obviously a mother and daughter, also dressed appropriately for riding. Most likely a rich family who kept horses for pleasure.
Next to them was what Ashton took for a real cowboy, from his dusty boots, to his Stetson cowboy hat. He was ruggedly good looking, though Ash wasn’t here to hook up. Under orders from his sister, he was here to relax and get his shit together—and sober up.
On the other side of the cowboy near Ginger was a man that had Ash’s hackles up. He didn’t know why, but the man just radiated “predator” and “danger” to him, with his dark eyes and a ball cap pulled low over his face. Not that Ashton was a coward or unable to take care of himself.
The last guest was as flamboyant a twink as Ash had ever seen. He was wearing designer from the stiff red cowboy hat all the way to the snakeskin boots on his small feet. Ash almost sneered at the way the man was ogling Mack and was practically standing in the big man’s personal space.
It was a booming voice behind him that had them all turning. Ash’s throat went dry at the owner of that deep voice. Already mounted on a horse was a god. Ash had always found men on horses to be the sexiest, from rugged western cowboys to athletic polo players to lean jockeys, to the sleek English jumpers like himself. This man outshone them all.

Suddenly Ashton Storm was looking forward to the few weeks of raw mountain riding. If only he knew what was coming, he might think twice about that eagerness and excitement.