Available to buy at
I am pleased to announce that Shift in Time is now available. Early yes I know I said I wouldn't post it early but something came up and I won't be home to load the files on Wednesday. It's done. Been over and over....but I'm sure there might be something we all missed...I'm sure I'll hear about it.
Right now it's only available on All Romance ebooks. Amazon should come online sometime tomorrow afternoon...my time...central time zone. I'll deal with Barnes and Noble later.
here, go.....hope you enjoy it. I had fun writing it. And no it's not angsty. No deep dark anything. Light and fluffy...like a panther.
All Romance ebooks
I am doing the final proof edit on my very first shifter novel. I plan to release it on July 24th....as early as Amazon will allow. How novel an actual set release date. Haven't done that in a long time.
So are we ready for a teaser?
Shift in Time blurb
True love’s first kiss will not break a curse.
Everyone knows that. Even a Normal like Morgan Monstros knows that.
But Fane Llewellyn isn’t everyone. He’s like no one Morgan has ever met.
Small, fragile and fierce, Fane doesn’t remember who he is or where he came from. He remembers pain and loneliness. Decades of pain and loneliness. And Morgan Monstros. He could never forget Gan. Gan was his from the day he came to the island. And Fane would fight to the death to keep Morgan safe. Even if he has to fight the whole world to do it.
Take one powerless witch, a sassy Siamese familiar, a panther shifter with amnesia, a meddling wolf clan, and a coven of witches hell bent on war, swirl all together and you get the perfect spell for all out mayhem…..oh yeah and there’s chocolate cake too.
Tension flared at the base of his neck between his shoulders. Morgan shrugged away the sensation hoping it wouldn’t settle in for the night. The sky in the west was pale enough that he could see white fluffy clouds skidding along. Some stars peeked out, but the moonlight overpowered their brilliance. A full moon on Samhain rarely happened. The council would certainly meet tonight. At the witching hour. Morgan glanced down the hill toward the town. The younger kids were in for the night. The teens were probably on the mainland if they were old enough for a retreat. They didn’t call their community a coven. The old word not PC in this day and age. Retreats and business meetings. All things that Morgan shunned and no one seemed to notice. Just a normal. He didn’t matter.
His stomach roiled with hunger. Except he wasn’t hungry. He’d eaten earlier. The feeling was external. As was the tension. He couldn’t connect with Fane. The house was quiet. Extremely quiet. He closed the front door and turned off the porch light. The little electric candles in the pumpkins would flicker all night lighting the house on the hill but the candy was gone and the light went off. Setting the bowl on the entry table he made his way through the house to the kitchen. Fane’s shoes lay on the floor near the door. The food on the stove untouched.
“Fane?” he called, his voice echoing in the empty house.
Tension tightened his shoulders. He felt dizzy as the world outside spun around his head. He moved into it reveling in the freedom. The moon seemed so close. He needed to run with it. To howl. To be free. Hunger pains brought Morgan to his knees. He wanted to eat. To hunt. He needed to hunt. He needed to feel the heart stop. To taste the tang of blood as it cooled on his tongue. He soared with the moon landing on a balcony. Something smelled so good. Hot and sweet. He licked his lips. A heartbeat so close.
Morgan shoved his hands over his ears. He rolled onto his back on the floor. The ceiling lights the only thing he saw. Pain sliced through his gut. Hunger. Longing. This incredible need for blood. He fought the bile rising in his throat as he battled to close his mind to the threat. Fane. It was Fane. He felt his despair. His primal roar filled Morgan with fear. Magick was in the air. His cat nature was still very much a part of him. Morgan knew this. He tried to understand. He could feel him. Fane was wild. Lost inside his own head. The moon magick worked on him. Sending him higher to the widow’s walk on the top of the house. Morgan could see the world beyond the island. Dolphins out past the breakers. A tanker heading out to sea. He found no blood here. Mice scurried in the grass down below. Creatures with cold in their veins. He could sense the being in the house. The one he craved.
Morgan scrabbled to his feet. Fear overrode good sense. He locked the doors. Locking Fane out to chase the moon. He ran up the stairs locking the attic entry behind him. The windows were all closed when he went downstairs. Fane wouldn’t be able to get inside. He closed the doors to the other rooms on the off chance he’d missed something and locked himself into his room.
Anger roared in his head. Nearly blinding him. He fell to his knees searching for balance. A thumping sound came from the window, the curtains blowing in the breeze, the moonlight framed him, crouched on the floor as if ready to spring.
“I smell you,” he said, his voice lower than Morgan had ever heard him speak. He felt the timbre caress his skin. “I’ve smelled it all day, for several days, I just didn’t know what I smelled.”
“You scared the hell out of me,” Morgan climbed to his feet. He felt silly now for letting his imagination run away with him. Fane hadn’t reverted to animal form. He was just the same as he was downstairs. Maybe a little more intense but that was about it. “How in the hell did you get all the way up here anyway?”
Fane didn’t answer he rose to his full height, his nose flared as if he were tracking something…delicious. His long fingers clawed at his clothes pulling and tugging in that graceful feline way he had about him until he strode across the room in all of his glory. The moon seemed to love him, she bathed him in her light making him appear to be on fire. Morgan reacted. Violently. Angry that anyone could elicit such a response from him he shoved the man away from him as soon as he drew close.
Fane smiled, his eyes flashing in the pale light, he moved sinuously around Morgan almost as if he were stalking him. “Don’t you want to play with me, Morgan? I want to play with you.”
I'll see ya Thursday :-)
While the site was languishing in disuse I released Shot Through the Heart. The western historical I wrote ten or so years ago. That one. The one with the head hopping and all kinds of epic drama-ness.
Yes I know it's het.
So it's out. On Amazon only for right now. I'll get it ready for wider release soon. Until then enjoy this excerpt..............
Across town, Alayne sat on the floor in her dark room, hidden between the bed and the wall where she watched the spectacular light show going on outside her window. Rain pounded the tin roof of the house, and Alayne felt isolated from the rest of the tenants, the noise of the storm completely blocking all sound but her own breathing. Unfortunately, it completely blocked the sound of the heavy tread of Garth’s boots as well.
She didn’t hear the scrape of the key in the lock, neither did she hear the knob turn. Alayne jumped as the door swung open and banged against the wall, her panic turning quickly to anger at the gall of the man, for she knew without a doubt that this time she had locked the door.
“I know you’re in here, kid, so stop hiding,” she heard the weariness in his voice and felt a pang of guilt at the merry chase she had led him that night. However, the guilt was fleeting and she didn’t move an inch or bother to answer him. He deserved everything she had put him through, if not more for dragging her to that place. Breaking into her room just added to the growing list of offenses he had inflicted upon her. She wasn’t about to answer him. After all she hadn’t done anything wrong, it was all him, and she hoped that maybe he would take the hint and if she ignored him long enough, go away.
Garth held his lamp into the room at arm’s length, the kid’s hat hung from one bedpost, his boots lay on the floor, socks draped carelessly onto of them, but there was no sign of the boy. Regardless, he stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and moved to the center of the room where the lamp illuminated the entire room including the boy. Garth set the lamp on the dresser and leaned against the far wall facing the boy who sat slumped against the wall between the bed and the window.
“What do you want?” Alayne asked sullenly. She wouldn’t forgive him for dragging her to that place…ever. He had crossed the line, even if he did think she was a boy. He still had no right to subject her to that sort of humiliation.
“To make sure you got back all right,” Garth said, letting one leg slide out from under him until he was sitting on the floor in front of her. He looked tired, and worried.
“As you can plainly see, I did, now get out,” Alayne said, refusing to look at him as she continued to hope he would take the hint and leave.
“You embarrassed me tonight, kid,” Garth said, completely destroying any sympathy she may have had for him.
“I embarrassed you… I embarrassed you. Of all the nerve…you arrogant ass. I didn’t drag you to a whorehouse. I didn’t haul you around by the collar on a busy street. I didn’t set you up with a thirteen-year-old child prostitute. I didn’t do anything wrong in running way. It was all your doing Mr. Burnett, now please leave before I really get angry,” Alayne whispered. She didn’t trust herself to speak up for fear of telling the rest of the world of her misadventures that night.
Garth sighed, leaning his bare head back against the wall. This was a fitting end to a wonderful night, he thought in disgust. “Yeah, okay, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have insisted that you go. Hell, kid, any normal fifteen-year-old would have jumped at the chance to see the inside of a whorehouse. By the time most normal boys are your age, what goes on between a man and a woman is pretty much an obsession.” He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Worse yet, he regretted even thinking what he had been thinking all night. To the boy’s credit, he didn’t react to the accusation and Garth began to believe the boy was simply a late bloomer and that he had no knowledge of that side of life.
“But I’m not a normal boy, am I, Garth?” Alayne turned her attention from the window and the storm raging outside, piercing the man with an angry gaze. “Your whores think so, ‘pretty boys like me prefer other pretty boys”, I believe that is what your Lucy said after you left… I was hiding beneath the parlor window you see,” she said, waving a hand airily in explanation. “I figured you would chase me so I hid. Cowardly of me, I know.” Alayne said calmly, searching his face in the dim light for some sign of his thoughts.
“I don’t know, kid, are you normal?” Garth said, thinking he had found the answer no matter how much it pained him but it didn’t feel right. Nothing about the boy had felt right from the moment they’d met but damned if he could figure out what it was about the boy that nagged at him like a mosquito. “You don’t walk like a boy, you don’t sit like a boy, you don’t even eat like a boy. Damned if I know if you’re normal kid. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Thinking she had covered those details better, Alayne was shocked by this new revelation. “So maybe I’m not a boy,” she suggested, thinking fast to keep her secret no matter what. “Maybe just maybe I’m a fifteen year old girl masquerading as a boy. Maybe I cut off all my hair, bound my budding young breasts, and put on boy’s clothes because I had heard too many atrocities against women alone out here. Maybe I didn’t want to end up in a brothel somewhere peddling my virginity away to dirty cowboys like that child, Millie, who you wanted me to bed tonight. On the other hand, maybe your whore is right, maybe I am a freak who prefers males to females. Which is it Garth? Would you like for me to strip down right now to make your decision easier?”
The year is 1876 and Alayne Murray is alone. Her parents deceased, no close extended family. All she has left is her family farm and hope that her twin brother is alive somewhere out west.
Texas in 1876 is no place for a woman alone. Alayne cuts her hair and dresses in her brother’s clothes. With no one but herself to depend upon, she journeys west to find her brother or her brother’s grave.
Garth Burnett is a gunslinger with no future. He signed on to help a local sheriff keep the peace in a small town never realizing that there was nothing but peace to keep. Bored out of his mind and longing for the wilder side of life he’d left behind he plans to pick up and leave Harmony…one of these days.
Except this kid with a sob story about his missing brother lands at his feet. And the sheriff has gone missing. And things just aren’t as dull as they once were, with Lane Murray around to fight with.
Distracted and angry Garth misses what’s right in front of his eyes. The kid, isn’t just missish, he’s a Miss. One determined to get her man. If it kills them both.
From the wilds of Texas to a New Orleans mansion, Alayne takes Garth on a wild ride that is never quite what it seems.
Warning: This isn’t your ordinary girl posing as boy meets man of her dreams historical. Beware of triggers including graphic violence and sexual situations.
Shot Through the Heart is available on AMAZON
More or Less Sex in M/M
Thanks for checking in with me today. It’s appropriate that I’d be guesting on Mercy’s blog when she’s the one that discussed this on her Facebook wall a couple of months back. She asked about m/m books and sex. Her point was there seems to be more books with very little to no sex at all and plenty of readers chimed in. With all the different responses, I decided I’d add my two cents about what I’ve seen as a reader as well as an author.
Let’s start out with the reader side of me. The reader in me likes a lot of sex. I want sex dripping from the pages and I want it so hot, my toes curl and I get that warm feeling in my gut. That being said, I like it to go along with the plot. Not page after page with no real direction and not for the sake of throwing it in there either. There has to be a reason why my two characters get together. Are they drawn to one another because of attraction? Or is it that and the fact they lost someone in their lives and are looking for the next special someone. Do they hate one another at first then eventually fall in lust or love?
The author in me is much the same, but lately I like to make my characters wait until they’re completely crazy for one another before I allow them to go to bed. Yes, it’s like punishment for them and even sometimes for me. *laughs* I can feel the tension between the characters and when I get done writing a chapter, I tell them and my muse we all have to wait. *sigh* Yep, I like them to be just about ready to explode when they’re finally ready for the first bedroom scenes. And when they do get there, I try my best to make it satisfying for all of us. Not an easy feat when you think about it. And then try making it original. Good luck with all that but I do try. *smiles*
So, in conclusion, I have to pose it to you the audience. Do you like more sex in your m/m or less? Or are you like me, sex happens because of the plot and making them suffer is better. Let me know your thoughts.
* * * *
Funny I’d feature my first erotica m/m here on this blog. My MC is kidnapped and thoroughly pleasured by his captor!
I don't like to play by the rules and I don't take no for an answer!
I'm JKaye, a fan, no make that super fan, of Lucifiera's lead singer Zander Lukes. I've wanted this man more than breathing but here's the problem; he doesn't know I exist and they're watching him like a hawk.
It’s a mission I must undertake to fulfill my dream. Regardless of the situation I plan to kidnap the biggest heavy metal singer in the world and make him my bitch for a weekend.
WARNING: Strong male/male sexual situations many might find highly objectionable.
Checking the clock on the wall, I was getting bored waiting on show time. The opening acts were running late because their bus broke down on the way into New York.
Bummer for them. To be perfectly honest, they sucked.
But the record company decided to throw them on the bill with me. Cool kids but they truly sucked at music. No, I don’t make the rosters for these tours and nor do I care to. If it were up to me, it would just be Lucifiera and I’d fill the time with exotic dancers of the male and female variety.
No worries, that idea is in the works since I mentioned it to our management. That may take some time but it will get done. I’ll make doubly sure of that.
Fifteen minutes until and the voices inside my head urged me to wreck something. Listening to Sex Type Thing always put me in that kind of mood which is why I have it blasting through the speakers before every show.
You may ask, why that tune when it’s not that much older than me?
I suppose I like the sleaze, the lyrics which sound so devilish and yet so captivating at the same time. It sounds as if it’s coming from a man in command and or control even though through history, we can see Scott really didn’t have a firm grip on much of anything. And like him, I wanted someone to be my lay before and after the show but groupies bored the hell out of me.
Sure, they came in all colors, sizes, and genders, but none of them held my interest.
Right now, I wanted someone exciting, someone to push my limits, get my motor running on all speeds and that wasn’t going to be found with the girls brought by the roadies to please Zander Lukes.
Yes, I said roadies because I couldn’t be bothered with picking my partner or partners for the evening. Besides, all I did was kick them out after they swallowed my cum anyway. I don’t do the lovey dovey cuddle thing with one-nighters at all. None of them deserved it anyway.
What I wanted was a strong man, willing to go really far, and take me where so far out of myself that I might not want to come back. And believe you me it would take a lot to do that since in I’ve freaking owned the effin block.
Have I done all the dirty? Just about.
Am I willing to go further? Most definitely.
In my mind, kinks are only the things you dare not talk about with strangers for fear you might have to hurt them. The acts that most find frightening or repulsive but who cares? If it’s what you like then you should do it.
My kinks range from bondage to brutal sex and everything in between. If only I could find the one to show me the real world beyond those doors.
BLMorticia is currently a published writer with Naughty Nights Press and Rebel Ink Press. She entertains her readers with hot and smexy sex, humor, and lots of swear words. She attempts to incorporate metal music or the military in most of her works. Nothin’ sexier than metalheads or military servicemen and women! She also writes a biweekly column on Blak Rayne Books and blogs on the First Thursday of the month at NNP Blog. For more info, please visit, Erotica With Snark
Author Sharita Lira: In one word, crazy. Just crazy enough to have 3 different muses running around in her head, driving her to sheer exhaustion with new plot bunnies and complex characters.
This happily married mother of two beautiful children loves music, computers, reading, and still enjoys reading and writing fanfiction. She’s a proud member of the Erotica Readers & Writers Association, as well as an advocate for rights of LGBT citizens. She’s also a contributor to the heavy metal ezine Fourteeng.net.
For more information, please visit http://www.thelitriad.com as well as her Facebook fanpage, The Literary Triad.
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