Saturday, August 31, 2013

My Sexy Saturday - To Touch the Sky

Happy Saturday and welcome to My Sexy Saturday! For this hop you post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. It can be from a WIP or something published.

For this week, I thought I’d do something from a WIP, the next novel in A Leap of Faith series. It’s called To Touch the Sky. The main character is Chetan, a Native American red-tailed hawk shifter.  It’s still in early draft form, lol, and may be a little rough yet.

Enjoy! And don’t forget to visit the rest of Blog Hop! 

“Oh spirits,” Chetan whispered. He’d let his attention drift from his nephew and now… His own cries joined the madness as a monstrous bull darted from the stampede and charged Isi.

Several spears protruded from the maddened bull, but it didn’t slow the great beast down. The night was cool, and steam blew from its nose. The rank smell of the animal nearly gagged him. As reality slowed to a crawl, he saw Isi standing still, his hands by his side… doing nothing. Sound distorted and warped as Chetan yelled—his voice hopelessly lost in the pandemonium raging around him—for Isi to move, draw his bow… do something.

Chetan continued to yell, running toward the young brave, waving his arms frantically. If he could just get the bull’s attention… If he could just get to Isi’s side before… He saw a black cougar casing the buffalo, gaining rapidly. More cat shifters landed on the buffalo’s back and attacked, sinking their great canines into the animal. It still wasn’t enough. The bull was now a short distance from Isi and bearing down, the young warrior in its sights.

Oh Wha-tay, I’m not going to make it. His legs pumped, his breath wheezed… and it didn’t matter. Oh please, Great Mother, no. Not this young one. Please. It’s my fault. I let myself get distracted. Don’t let him… Take me, instead.

The black cougar raced besides the buffalo then darted in close as it latched on to the throat in an effort to suffocate the massive beast. The danger was immense; the buffalo would trample the black cougar if given the chance. The bull was too close and still Isi stood unmoving. Why is he just standing there?

There was no way, no way for him to get to Isi in time. Chetan stumbled to a stop and raised his bow, carefully taking aim. Please, please, let my aim be true. The arrow struck the buffalo dead in the face, but it was too late. It plowed into Isi with its mighty horns. Isi’s body flew high into the air, blood spurting form the terrible wounds in his body. A scream filled the air. Was that Isi? Isi’s mother? Or the bull?

“No. No!” Chetan’s own scream joined the ones around him.

Friday, August 30, 2013

Welcome Vicy Cross

Ooooh we have something special for today! *evil grin* I have new author, Vicy Cross, here at Decadent Delights... and this is her first book. EVER!!! Y'all know what that means, right? We got ourselves a virgin! Whoot!

Okay, be gentle with her guys and please make her feel welcome. ;) We'll tell her about the chains and whips later lol.

~ ~ ~

Hello everyone—thank you all for being here to pop my cherry! No, really. This is my first EVER guest blog post for my first EVER published novel. It is fitting we talk about virgins since the main character of my novel is a virgin nun (ha!) Unfortunately a lesbian tentacle monster pops her cherry, but I’m certain my first time with Decadent Delights won’t be as…um…bizarre.

So what is my erotic-horror novel, Tuesday Apocalypse, about? Well, there are sexy alien squids, handsome WWII soldiers, and lusty nuns…but what I’m really writing is about a reality that might have been. Horror and dystopian novels are great at stripping away the masks we wear. They ask the big questions and force us to think: “What If?” Fantasy and science fiction are popular genres for this reason. Even in erotica, there’s room for speculative fiction.

And yet I was warned by my beta-reader (who is a devout Catholic who graduated from the same Catholic school I did) not to push “too far” or probe “too deep” with this book. For the most part, I took her advice. Yes, some people might find the idea of eroticized nuns and closeted priests to be vulgar and offensive…but I hope those same people look beyond the sex to appreciate the larger question. What is more offensive? Repressing and persecuting others for their sexuality? Or is it better to allow people to live healthily as honest, sexual human beings? Of course I choose the latter, and I hope readers who read Tuesday Apocalypse agree on the same principle. J

Storm Moon Press just released my book last month, and I am so excited to make my debut as a real author! I’ve wanted to be an author my entire life. Thank you so much for hosting me at Decadent Delights! I hope you’ll have me again when my next book comes out! Blessed be and Namaste. J


In the war-weary year of 1940, just one rundown hospital survives London's collapse. Sister Barbara, a nun and volunteer nurse, inspires hope in her patients, but that faith is shaken when an unidentified aircraft explodes near the hospital. The half-eaten corpse beneath the mangled wreckage appears to corroborate the pilot's story that some sort of "tentacle-monster" attacked his plane. However, Sister Barbara pushes these dangers aside and plunges beyond the rubble when the man she loves disappears in the wastelands.

She discovers a bloodstained beauty in his place—but the girl's outward innocence hides a voracious sexual appetite, and an even more disturbing secret. One by one, the terrified patients vanish from their beds. Titillating tentacles lick the hospital walls at night. And the dreams, always the dreams, drawing Sister Barbara deeper into a well of madness. She suspects she and the other women at the hospital are transforming into something... unholy. Sister Barbara knows she must figure out what before the evil in their midst consumes them all.


In my dream, Mrs. Tuttle played the pipe organ in the cathedral. Her fingers assaulted the keys until the ivory was stained with blood. She played my favorite song, the hymn I sang to my mother before she died, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” However, in Mrs. Tuttle’s version, the music sounded macabre—almost as if the organ was wailing in protest, begging her to stop!

I remember Mrs. Tuttle’s crazed smile even as her fingers turned to pulp on the keys. She did not stop playing even when the organ groaned and made that dreadful sound.

The ceiling trembled from the violent music. The stained glass rattled in the windows; I clenched my teeth and, when the pipe organ shrieked louder, I shook with fright.

Somehow I knew Mrs. Tuttle was deliberately desecrating my mother’s memory with this     song. Then Robert was standing in the cathedral beside me. This time when he reached for my hand, I did not pull away. I was too distracted by Mrs. Tuttle and the vengeful organ to acknowledge his presence.

However, when Rob touched me, I gasped in pain. His skin felt so hot and angry! He seared my hand with his commanding caress and then drew me toward him before I could cry out in surprise.

I heard Mrs. Tuttle laugh hysterically above the thunderous music. The cathedral pulsed as if it had suddenly sprung to life! The old woman’s shrill cackling grated my eardrums and clogged my throat with panic.

I was reminded of my mother and the wilting violets I had placed on her nightstand. The delicate, blue petals shriveled, browned, and then dropped upon my mother’s pillow—killing her.

Rob wanted to keep me in his grasp, but, worried for my mother, I turned to shoot a desperate look over my shoulder.

To my horror, blood spilled from the organ, splattering onto the floor by Mrs. Tuttle’s feet. The old woman’s finger bones were just as white as the ivory keys she pounded on. She mashed her hands on the wounded organ and laughed like a demon. She seemed determined to destroy herself and the instrument.

The cathedral seemed to realize Mrs. Tuttle’s murderous intent, for the pipe organ suddenly rumbled with desperation and anger. The music sounded more violent than ever because I knew the organ was now fighting for its life!

I ran to stop Mrs. Tuttle and save the organ, but Rob yanked me back and tightened his grip around my arm. “You can’t save her, Sister Barbara,” he said. His fiery grasp burned my skin. “Look at me. Don’t ever pull away from me again.”

“But Robert—!” I cried, fighting back. I was so afraid!

Stained-glass windows shattered above our heads. The sharp glass studded the cathedral floor with a kaleidoscope of color while the organ bellowed and the ceiling thumped. But despite everything crumbling around us, only I seemed aware of it.

I tried to tell Rob about the organ and the glass beneath our feet, but he ignored me. His expression hardened and I couldn’t breathe when he reached forward and cupped my face in his hands.

Although he did this gently, his touch cauterized my skin. My heart leaped to my throat and I began to tremble.

He spoke just over a whisper. “Barbara…”

“Rob, I can’t,” I told him, my voice pleading, but he refused to hear me.

He brushed my mouth with the rough pad of his thumb and coaxed a dark moan from my lips. I was not even aware this deep, primal sound lurked in my own throat! And yet I could not stop myself from whimpering again when he caressed me.

“Barbara,” he said, repeating my name in that soft, intolerable way. I saw the quiet heat in his eyes and trembled much more violently.

 My heart slammed against my rib cage, so hard, I thought my bones would break. The glass shards reflected all the sweet, angelic faces plastered around the cathedral: saints, virgins, and cherubs. Always smiling, crosses and lances in hand.

Then a sharp, sudden pain stabbed my breast. Golden light flashed beneath my eyelids as the pain dulled, spreading warmth and euphoria throughout my entire body.

I whimpered with pleasure, closing my hands round the celestial staff that had impaled my heart!

I thought of the Transverberation of St. Teresa of Avila and the hungry seraph who had repeatedly thrust the very light of God into her body. She described the experience as being both a physical union of pain and ecstasy. I had not fully understood St. Teresa’s writings until that moment He penetrated me too! 

Liquid arousal scalded my thighs. When I opened my eyes, the golden light and the arrow disappeared, however my raw exhilaration did not. I realized my breathing had become short and erratic—I was blushing and I knew Rob could see it. I resisted the feverish impulse to press my body to his.

“I am a nun.” I spoke louder so he would hear me over the tormented organ. His face remained hard and unreadable, but he studied my mouth while he dragged his thumbnail across my bottom lip.  I whimpered again. The pain in my breast grew.

Temptation commanded my aching loins; the seed had already sprouted inside me. My eyelids fluttered. I faltered and tried to find my voice. “I… I made an eternal vow to Christ to remain celibate. I am a virgin. And I am old enough to be your mother!

That last bit was not true, of course, but I said it anyway to discourage him.

Rob just laughed. His pale blue eyes reflected the dizzying colors from the gleaming glass. “You are lying and I will prove it,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. He swept me against his hips and held my chin so I could not avert my face. “Kiss me, Barbara.”

The command made me shiver with wicked delight. But how could I possibly kiss him? Even though I knew I was dreaming, I knew that kissing Rob would be a sin. Squirming, I begged him to release me.

Mrs. Tuttle sang in a sharp, sarcastic voice: “Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee!”

The rafters thumped in rhythm to the song and I thought the cathedral would collapse and crush us. Again I tried to warn Rob about the danger we were in, but he ignored my pleas. He slapped his hand over my buttocks and forced me to grind against him.

His erection teased my inner thigh. It felt so hot and thick that I began to moan. My sex lusted for it.

I don’t think Rob heard the ground quake beneath our feet. I don’t even think he was aware of Mrs. Tuttle’s singing to us. He just flung me against the wall and, placing his arms on either side of me, caged me there.

“Stop—we can’t... I can’t…” My knees went weak and I gasped, “Please, don’t…”

“You are lying to me again.” I shook my head, but he ignored this. “You want me. I know you do.” His eyes burned like two live coals. “I’m making you mine whether you agree to it or not.”

I knew Rob would overpower me, but I put up a half-hearted offense anyway. The sad truth is that I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to ravage me upon the brightly colored shards of glass, but I was also terrified.
Buy link:
Via Storm Moon Press (available in ebook and soft back):
Vicy Cross' obsession with weird began at an early age when she first devoured Edgar Allan Poe's, "The Tell-Tale Heart." Her love of gothic novels, geeky comic books, and literary fiction intensified until she graduated from college and decided to write creepy tales of her own. Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, and speculative fiction are Vicy's favorite indulgences, however she'll dabble in any genre where she can tell a good story.
Vicy survives the Texas heat with plenty of iced tea and the loving, wet kisses from her dog and boyfriend. In addition to writing full-time, she is a veg*n political activist, hoodoo witch, and empath. Autobiographies embarrass her.
Twitter: @VicyCross

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Welcome Lynn Crain

When Reality Takes Over Your Writing

Hi everyone!

First I really want to thank Michelle for allowing me to be on her blog. Not many people like to hear me yap…LOL!

I’m sure you’re wondering about my title. Well, my reality has taken over my writing…sort of. Yeah, I’m sure that makes a lot of sense but it is true in many ways.

I moved to Vienna, Austria with my dear husband of many years as he pursued his dream job in May 2011. It was only fair as he’d always let me pursue my writing and for the five years before we moved, had granted me the right to stay home to just write. By giving me such an amazing gift of time, I was able to write and sell over 14 different stories. It thrilled me to no end to be able to do nothing but write as it was my life-long dream come true. So when his opportunity came up, who was I to say no?

Yes, I’ll be the first to admit just how hard the move was on me. I hated it here and the people weren’t and still aren’t very friendly. I had left everything I’d known behind including my kids, grandkids and pets. I was alone and miserable for a while. Realizing I could be unhappy or I could work it to my advantage gave me a whole new perspective on where I lived. Eventually.

Writing about what you know is something we are all told as writers. I like what a NYT bestselling author told me once better: write what you could imagine. He was correct. I could imagine a wonderful Vienna, I could imagine things not being the way they were, I could imagine…well…I could imagine a lot. After all, I am a writer and imagination is my game.

After working it all out in my mind, I sat down one day and put down every imaginable story line I could come up with regarding Vienna. I now have an idea file of no less than 25 stories involving this European city. They run the gamut from romance to sci-fi to urban fantasy and they have fueled my imagination for months to come. My only hope is that all the research is done and on paper before I move from here in a couple of years.

The series of books I’m doing, A Taste of Vienna, all have to do with experiences, or perceived experiences, I’ve had here. The reason I say perceived is that there are a couple of ghost stories and possible time travel in the mix as well. Suffice it to say, I’ve told my husband more than once the flat we live in has a ghost. For some reason, he doesn’t really believe me.

The first book is a Christmas book and takes a look at what it’s like to be here during the holiday season. I worked in pertinent information about the area while keeping the romance fresh and inviting. While doing this book, I discovered that the holiday season is my favorite in Vienna. I love the snow, the Christkindlemarkts and everything about it.

The second book in the series, Night Train slated for release in October, is about my experience taking a night train to Rome over the week between Christmas and New Year. When I described that experience to a friend, I immediately came up with the tag line: A dog, a kid and a man she doesn’t know – how much more romantic can it be?

And it was true in oh so many ways when I compared it to what really happened. Our compartment on the train to Rome was supposed to be ours alone. We had myself, my husband, our youngest who was 19 at the time, our 5 month old puppy and we were all set to go. At our first stop, a man who we didn’t know popped in and said he’d purchased the last berth in our compartment. I was floored. How could it happen? Why did it happen? When we talked to the conductor, he apologized but told us the man stayed as he had purchased the ticket from a different group than the train company. Suddenly, our family vacation wasn’t just us any more but included someone we didn’t know.

While we had a wonderful time overall, the travel experience was new and different for us. I filed it all away and until I talked to my friend, the story hadn’t formulated in my mind. The fact was I could take my reality, twist it and come up with some wonderful story ideas.

More thinking lead to the realization that it was true: my reality had taken over my writing. But in a very good way. I was feeling before as if my story lines were stale, that writing had become a chore as I wrote the same things over and over. My moment of not seeing the forest for the trees was happening and I didn’t know how to overcome it.

The breath of fresh air I needed was to look at my reality, to see what I was actually experiencing and make it work for me and my writing. Can any writer ask for more? We can’t because we look for opportunity. And when it comes knocking as part of your own life, use it to your advantage because you may never get a better offer.

So, yeah, my reality has taken over my writing but in such a good way. I’m not going to complain, I’m just going to go with the flow as they say, and write some great fiction about my life in Europe. Hope your reality allows you to do the same.
Title: A Viennese Christmas
A Taste of Vienna Book 1  
Word Count: approximately 19K 
Theme: The heart knows the language of love. 
Long Logline: Amanda Kranz comes to Vienna, Austria for a job, only to find herself alone at Christmas when she meets sexy historian Henry Jager, who convinces her true love is real and within her grasp. 
Short Logline: Amanda Kranz, alone in Vienna, Austria at Christmas, meets sexy, historian Henry Jager, who convinces her true love is real and within her grasp. 
Blurb/Premise: Sign language interpreter, Amanda Kranz, wants to find her soul mate but fears her chance has past due to the death of her childhood sweetheart. Finding sexy historian Henry Jager during an outing in her new home of Vienna, Austria, may have been a stroke of luck. When his ex-fiancée shows up just as their relationship starts to sizzle, Amanda must decide if standing up for what she really wants will give her lifetime happiness. Or will she be destined to spend her life alone?
Her disappointment must have been plain on her face as she found herself suddenly gazing into the greenest eyes in a very handsome male face. A question in German followed as she tried to ascertain just what he said.
“I’m sorry,” she stated, her confusion obvious. “I’ve only picked up a word or two since I’ve been here. Do you speak English?”
“You’re American?” he questioned without the accent most Austrians possessed.
“Don’t make it sound like such a curse. There are a lot of us, you know.” Her indignation evident in her tone.
His rich laughter filled the space, warming her to her bones in ways she hadn’t expected. “Sorry. I guess one does pick up the attitudes of where they live.”
She looked at him puzzled. “That’s that supposed to mean?”
“Henry Jager, American, at your service ma’am.” His sweeping bow brought a smile to her lips.
“Amanda Kranz and I hardly think I qualify as a ma’am.” She stuck her hand toward him. His firm grasp sent an electric sensation as she felt the spark deep within her. She swore he felt it too as his eyes darkened.
“Do you prefer Amanda or Mandi? I know there’s not much of a choice with Henry.” His serious gaze spot of his interest.
Laughter bubbled up in her, the first such emotion in weeks. “Henry is a fine, strong name. And it doesn’t matter much with mine.” His hot look made her want to shiver in anticipation of what she could only speculate.
“Really? I would have thought your business associates would call you Amanda. Now your intimate contacts I expect call you Mandi.”
She gazed at him. Intimate contacts, now there was a misnomer. It had been years since she’d had any intimate contacts of the male persuasion. “Sounds good to me.”
“You gave in too easy.” He reluctantly let go of her hand as his look took on a more serious aspect. “Are you meeting someone?”
She shook her head. “No one to meet.”
“Good.” He grabbed her hand again, placing it in the crook of his arm. “Have you ever been to one of these before?” Henry expertly meandered around people, baby carriages and more as he led her to the next booth.
“Not really. I saw them last year but being so new to the city, I couldn’t bring myself to go to one alone.” She gazed at the Rathaus beyond them, remembering how intimidated she’d been by building even though it had a Christmas tree in front.
His eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re still a relative newcomer.”
“I suppose so. I got here in November of last year.”
“Ah – your impression?” His brows lifted when he drew back as if to study her face.
“Very commercialized. I expected something more – ” she struggled to find the right word. “– more homey, more authentic – more Austrian.”
Henry gazed around a moment before looking back at her. “I see your point. This is probably the one Christkindlemarkt that’s got the least to offer in specialized, authentic goods in my opinion except it does have a certain ambiance. And of course, there’s the skating rink as well as the park decorations.”
Her brow arched in amazement. She really hadn’t expected anyone to agree with her. All the women she knew gushed over every one of them. “You agree with me?”
His naughty smile was breathtaking. “Most definitely. This is the one where most of the tourists come. While there are some very Austrian things here hidden amongst the drivel, most are not unique or special in any way.”
“My thoughts exactly. Where exactly does one find more traditional items?” Astonishment spread through her. She had not once heard anyone say a negative comment about Vienna. All her colleagues gushed over the city but as far as she was concerned, it was just another place to live.
They stopped in front of a food booth, the aroma tantalizing. “Would you like something hot to drink?”
The brisk breeze nipped at her cheeks and she felt the cold through her coat. She definitely could use something to warm her up. “Sure.”
            NOTE: This is a SHORT STORY with adult situations.
            Sweet romance, Foreign Romance, Vienna Austria, Christmas, Holidays
ISBNs & Page Counts 4 Different Formats
            PDF PROMO – ISBN13:  978-1-62052-008-6; 92 pages; word count 19223
            PDF – ISBN13:978-1-62052-009-3; 92 pages; word count 19223 for ARe & the rest
            Smashwords – ISBN: 978-1-62052-0116; xx pages; 18774 word count
            All Others – ISBN: 978-1-62052-010-9; 60 pages; 19223 word count

iTunes ~ pending
Where Lynn Is:

Monday, August 26, 2013

Welcome Marc Jarrod!

To Bi or Not to Bi
by Marc Jarrod
They say we all have gay feelings deep inside, but for most of us those feelings never surface. Will Crown, amateur stage actor, is about to put that theory to the supreme test with the help of good friend and fellow actor, Adam Jester, who harbors his own secret—he’s in love with Will.
Whether it’s timing or simply an inevitable turn of events, the two men expose and act on their dark secrets knowing their lives will never be the same. Can Will embrace his newfound sexuality or regret his decision—and, will he reciprocate his roommate’s love?

Will liked to pass that time by watching adult videos. Though he’d had his share of the dating game along with unsatisfactory sexual liaisons, he still liked to sit back and watch videos of hot sex.

At the store, Will perused the aisles of DVDs, the movies ranging from mainstream, through hard core, male-female sex to extreme BDSM to foot fetish magazines and videos. He went further into the back where he knew the store displayed a certain genre, one he returned to repeatedly. His heart rate increased as he went deeper into the well-packed shop. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was searching for. He purchased a quickly sought-out DVD then returned home. The anticipation of a couple of hours of solo sex had his hands shaking as he neared the house.

When he got home, he turned on the TV, pushed the DVD in the player and sat on the couch. The movie credits scrolled down. Seconds later, the first scene showed a well-built blond guy on his knees. The camera zoomed in, quickly focusing on just his lips sliding up and down a huge, erect cock. The wet slickness covering the shaft along with the deep guttural grunts coming from both men turned Will on like nothing else ever did.

Oh, yeah, this is a great way to start the film.

Will’s dick was already thickening in his pants, begging to get out. The camera moved back, the man’s face coming into view, the lips stretched tight around and nipping at the engorged cock. As the camera panned back even further, Will saw another male undressing. That one was tall, slender and had dark, wavy hair. He looked like he spent all of his spare time working out at the gym.

Will unfastened his jeans and reached inside. With a little effort plus a curse or two, he managed to liberate his cock and stroke it. While the trio in the movie got down to a hotter than hot scene in which the blond dude on his knees got fucked by the hunky newcomer and gave the most amazing blowjob to the guy standing in front of him, Will gaped and stroked his dick more rapidly.

He loved these movies and kept a ready stash of them in a locked container under his bed. More than once, he’d wondered if he wasn’t at least bisexual—not gay, mind you. He wasn’t ready to go there in any way, shape, or form. He’d also wondered, numerous times, what it would feel like to have a man suck him off.

Watching those scenes, the oral sex scenes, was a tremendous turn-on. He figured it didn’t much matter if it was a man or woman doing the sucking. Presently his cock was in full agreement. He was at full mast, but his dick seemed to grow even thicker as the scenes played out.

After stroking himself for a good ten minutes, Will was ready to explode. He fought the urge, straining to anticipate the exact moment when the actors would have their respective orgasms so they could all come together.

His butt clenched, his balls shifted in tight to his body—but something distracted him and tore the impending bliss away.

Through his peripheral vision, Will caught movement in the next room. Panic filled him. A deep frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. It had to be Adam! But what was he doing home? It was one o’clock in the afternoon.

Will Crown loves to watch gay videos but swears he isn’t gay…but is he?

They say we all have gay feelings deep inside, but for most of us those feelings never surface. Will Crown, amateur stage actor, is about to put that theory to the supreme test with the help of good friend and fellow actor, Adam Jester, who harbors his own secret—he’s in love with Will.
Whether it’s timing or simply an inevitable turn of events, the two men expose and act on their dark secrets knowing their lives will never be the same. Can Will embrace his newfound sexuality or regret his decision—and, will he reciprocate his roommate’s love?
Born in Italy and coming to America when he was six years old, Marc Jarrod now lives in St. Louis Missouri. By day, he works for a major delivery company. During his leisure time, when he is not working or writing, he spends time with his family, which consists of his wife and two cats. He is an avid fan of professional sports especially, baseball, hockey and football. He is also a trivia buff and you just might catch him at a trivia tournament in your area.

Marc has been writing for the last four years.

Where To Find Marc:
Twitter: @marcjarrod 

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Dreamspinner Spins Me A Dream... Wrapped in Leather

Yay! Wrapped in Leather is under contract with Dreamspinner. It's the first in a series of BDSM novels that start with "Wrapped in..."

The release date is Jan/Feb of 2014. It's a contemporary/BDSM novel that ended up in the 68K range. So that means it'll be released in eBook and print formats. In the story a Dom and a untrained sub find that trust, along with their love of leather, is the foundation a relationship is built on.

~ ~ ~

A love for leather and Fate is the tie that binds. High school history teacher, Toshi Baylor, is having the day from hell. He's made reservations for a romantic evening with his lover, Ian, at The Steak House. But Fate can be a tricky lady. A canceled dentist appointment on a Friday afternoon provides Toshi the opportunity to start the weekend off with a bang. Toshi arrives unexpectedly at Ian’s, his boyfriends, apartment. But the ‘bang’ comes in the form of finding Ian cheating on him. Heartbroken and angry, Toshi still keeps his reservation at The Steak House... alone.

Fate isn’t through quite yet. Jase Taylor is alone too. He wants to find Mr. Right, not Mr. Right Now. His auto repair shop keeps him plenty busy. Then there’s the BDSM club he’s a member of, Wrapped Up. Jase is a Dom who has a love of leather, but frankly, even the subs at his club have lost their appeal. Plus, having your own business isn’t all fun and games. He’s had the day from hell. So he feels the need to unwind with a good meal, and he calls in a reservation at The Steak House.

Bring on the weekend. Somehow wires get crossed thanks to similar last names and Jase is left without a reservation. Toshi and Jase end up eating dinner together. And what begins as a meal becomes so much more.

Toshi pulled in the parking lot and found a place up front. Yanking the collar of his coat up, he hurried to the front door of the restaurant. Being a Friday evening, the place was already packed. Good thing he’d made a reservation. Just as he reached for the door handle, he heard the low, sexy growl of a motorcycle behind him. Damn, what a sound. Stopping to look, he noticed a well-built man on a Harley hunting for a parking place. He had a blacked-out face shield helmet and wore a black leather jacket.
Toshi watched as the guy parked and swung a leg off the bike, jeans tightening across what looked like a fine ass. Toshi gulped. Now that was some fantasy material. The guy stood next to the bike—oooh, he was tall too. The helmet, along with the leather jacket, gloves, and boots gave him a mysterious, dangerous look, with a strong side of kinky thrown into the mix.
“Damn,” Toshi muttered, his dick twitching with interest. The guy wore leather, one of his favorite things.
The stranger removed his helmet and leather gloves. Nice, short dark brown hair and a sexy goatee—Toshi swallowed hard. His dick was doing more than twitching. Gods, everything about this guy screamed smoking hot, kinky sex. The leather alone was enough to rev his imagination. Which was unfortunate, since the man he was drooling over was probably straight. But hey, he could dream.
He entered the restaurant before his interest was noticed, just to be safe. Wow, the biker guy really flipped his switches. He was more than a little surprised at how he’d responded—no one had stirred his interest like this since he’d started dating again. Not even Ian had got him this hot. Toshi sidelined his thoughts when he was greeted by the hostess.
“Good evening, sir. One for dinner tonight?” Angie, the hostess, flipped her long hair over her shoulder, a smile on her face.
“Yeah, I had a reservation under the name Baylor for eight.” A breeze swirled around Toshi as the biker guy walked inside the restaurant.
“Great! We’re really slammed tonight. If you’ll follow Dan, he’ll show you to your table.”
Toshi heard the hostess Angie start her spiel again. She didn’t get far.
 “Oh no, oh sir, I’m so sorry! We don’t have a Mr. Taylor listed.”
 “Look, I spoke to you, remember? I called and made a reservation at eight tonight for one. It was a little loud in there when I called.”
Toshi shivered and slowed at the deep voice behind him. That sound reached right down to his balls.
“I-I…. I’m so sorry, sir. There seems to be a mix up with the last names of you and the customer who was just here. But, we should have a table coming up in about an hour.”
“An hour? You’re kidding, right? You made a mistake, not me, but I have to wait? Jesus, can this day get any worse? Look, I’ll just sit at the bar until something comes available.”
“I’m sorry sir, but the bar is full. I’m so sorry for the mix up, but there simply isn’t a table open. And there isn’t any room at the bar right now.”
“I want to speak to the manager.”
“Now would be good.”
Toshi damn near panted at that commanding tone. Without thinking, he turned around and walked back to the scowling man. “Um, sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing. If you’re okay with it, you can share a table with me. I’m by myself anyway.”