Wheels of Locomotion

By the beginning of the Twentieth Century, steam locomotives on U.S. railroads were huge. We are talking 100 feet long or better, with weights of 400-plus tons and drive train wheels taller than a man, diameters of 70-80 inches.

The types were designated by configurations of their wheels. For example, a 2-8-4 engine had two small guide wheels in front, eight giant drive train wheels middle, and four small support wheels under the cab where engineer and fireman operated the locomotive.

I learned all of this, of course, while researching for my book, GRIT, co-authored by William Maltese. If you read the excerpt which accompanies the book on its publisher's web site, MLR PRESS, you will see that one particular type of engine, a 2-10-2, had some issues when first put into service. The incident is fiction, but the problem and solution was very real.

I found one of these locomotives on display at a museum and snapped a picture of its drive train wheels.

Lo and behold, my character in GRIT, Wilton Zukel, was assigned this same type of steam locomotive when he became engineer pulling drag freight for the Santa Fe Railroad. Unlike his father's 2-10-2, Wilton's machine served faithfully and flawlessly until 1933. This is the only known photo of Wilton with his 1677, one year before "the mishap" that takes place in our story.  

He's on the left near the cab, doing a walk-around inspection before boarding for departure. The accident which occurred on an Edgerton, KS siding would end the 1677's career, but Wilton survived to continue his service with the Santa Fe and fuel his romance with a certain railroad detective. 

It's all documented in our Great Depression-era, fact-meets-fiction, manlove novel, GRIT, and it's available in paperback and ebook formats at MLR PRESS.

Papa Zukel Whispers

by Jardonn Smith


Once upon a midnight clear
I awakened, gently, to something queer

A man of age beside my bed
his flesh aglow in fiery red

His left side scarred, melting, a-boil
and I shuddered with fright, winced in recoil

But through the macabre mass he be
chocolate brown eyes flashed friendly to me

With a rub of my eyes and a slap to my cheek
I steadied myself, gathered courage to speak

I know you, old man, with confidence I claimed
you're the fireman who burned, Zukel's your name

You were shoveling coal on the Santa Fe
when wheels left the rails, shot embers your way

Lava of hell from the firebox did rain
fanned by the wind on a fast-moving train

Your clothing ablaze, you had nowhere to run
when the train finally stopped you were cooked, well and done

The engineer smothered you, did what he could
delayed the inevitable, did you no good

On a hospital bed you laid suffering in wait
prayed for your God to quicken your fate

You summoned your son, coaxed him to near
and with voicebox singed you gasped in his ear

My pain is too much, I can no longer bear
you must stifle my breath, cut off my air

Your boy was a good boy, he did what you said
he covered your holes until you were dead

Your suffering thus ended, his just begun
for yours was an unspeakable task for your son

Your boy, Wilton

He takes your scars with him wherever he goes
his nightmares of struggle, his father's death throes

So now, Papa Zukel, my pitiful man
why have you come here? what is your plan?

His red glow subsided to a comforting hue
shades of serenity, of green and of blue

His flesh calmed its turmoil, shone pinkish rose
reshaped his form proper, nose to his toes

He joined me on the mattress, reached for my hand
his lips pecked my forehead and he told me his plan

Your perceptions are keen so I give you this task
tell of my son, it is not much to ask

You must tell of my Wilton, I hurt him so bad
he must know of my pride, he must never be sad

Papa Zukel's rough hand gave mine a squeeze
his form dissipated as he started to leave

But what, I pondered, a question to ask
answer essential to completing my task

But what of his partner, Gaither Hollis, his flame
do I speak of their love which dare not speak its name?

His chocolate eyes beamed, and he rose from my bed
with a breathy guffaw he tossed back his head

I know what matters, things are not what they were
my world is like your world, so to you I defer

His flesh turned to ether and he soon disappeared
leaving his enlightenment fresh in my ear

I leapt from my bed, and with no time to waste
my fingers set to typing my tale, post-haste

A yarn about steam engines bigger than ships
of railroaders, Dust Bowls, and harrowing trips

Of Depression and hobos riding the rails
of criminals and lawmen tougher than nails

And within this great chaos I type on the page
gentle whispers to guide me, Papa Zukel, my sage



* * * * *



My half-assed attempt at prose is for sinister purpose. I'm promoting a book!

William writes about desperate men riding the rails west in search of employment, while I write about the men who run the trains.

Available in ebook formats at the publisher's web site, MLR PRESS here:

http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=WMJSGRIT

where you can read a text excerpt which expands upon my poem.

Building the Burlington Northern-Santa Fe

The main components of what we know today as the BNSF Railway began with the mega-merger in 1970 of three major railroads: The Chicago, Burlington & Quincy, The Northern Pacific and The Great Northern.

CB&Q

Known as the Burlington Route or The Q, the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad was founded in 1849 with the primary connections from Chicago (headquarters), Minneapolis, St. Louis, Kansas City and Denver.

Trackage ran as far west as Wyoming and Montana. The most famous trains on The Q were the Zephyrs, known for their efficient passenger service betweeen the major cities on the route. This name is continued
today by one of the Amtrak passenger trains.

NP

Headquartered in St. Paul, MN, the Northern Pacific line was founded in 1864 and ran from Chicago, IL to Seattle, WA. The line itself was built along the trail first explored by Lewis and Clark.

The North Coast Limited was the flagship passenger service train, beginning in 1900 and ceasing operation in 1971, when Amtrak took the name. Running from Chicago to Seattle, this train was best known for introducing not only the popular Vista Domes for viewing, but also the rare Vista Dome sleepers.

GN (The Goat)

Founded in 1890 by James J. Hill, the Great Northern Railway ran from Chicago to Seattle and parts of Canada, with its headquarters located in St. Paul, MN.

One of the most famous and best-loved passenger trains ever to serve the United States, Great Northern's Empire Builder streamed from Chicago to Seattle, dazzling riders with stunning scenery through parts of Yellowstone.

While smaller buyouts and mergers had taken place during the 1950's and 60's, the 1970 merger of these three giants resulted in the formation of the Burlington Northern Railway.

This union created one of the biggest players of all western railroads (Chicago to the Pacific Coast) and as passenger service was slowly phased out across the western United States, the Burlington Northern dominated the northern half of the western and midwestern freight traffic, especially coal and grains.

During the 1970's & 80's, only the Santa Fe, Union Pacific (which merged with Missouri Pacific and Western Pacific in 1981), Chicago Northwestern and Southern Pacific remained as major competition for the BN.

Many smaller lines were being bought out, while some were abandoned through bankruptcy (most notably the Rock Island.) As for the BN, they made a bold move. A 1980 merger with a smaller railroad gave the BN reach to the Gulf Coast.

SL-SF (The Frisco)

The St. Louis-San Francisco Railway never made it to California. Begun in 1876, it soon adopted the nickname Frisco. Both the name and markings disappeared with the merger, as Burlington Northern maintained its own moniker and colors.

The Meteor was one of the heavily-used passenger trains, closely following the famous Route 66 path from St. Louis to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

----------------

From the Big Four to the Big Two

By the mid 1990's, only four major railroad names remained to service the midwestern and western United States: Southern Pacific, ATSF (Santa Fe), Union Pacific and Burlington Northern. In 1994, both the UP and BN were making offers to acquire the Santa Fe, but in 1995 the UP abandoned their attempt and the Burlington Northern announced plans to merge with the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe. Subsequently, the UP merged with the Southern Pacific and both these unions were completed in 1996.

AT&SF

The storied history of the Santa Fe Railway could (and does) comprise an entire web site.

Headquartered in Chicago, the company was founded in 1859. The main line never made it to Santa Fe, New Mexico, because the terrain proved too difficult to lay the necessary track, but the Chicago to Los Angeles route became very profitable, especially for passenger service and selling adjacent plots of land to homesteaders.

The Santa Fe Chief was one of the most cherished passenger trains ever to traverse the United States. There were many Chiefs, but the Los Angeles to Chicago run was used by countless Hollywood celebrities and therefore, the service and efficiency were second to none.

In later years, blue and gold schemes appeared along with the red, silver and gold War Bonnets. Like so many railroads now gone, the logos and colors of the Santa Fe are sorely missed. They were a part of our
culture, and citizens who lived along these rail lines were and still are nostalgic for the railroads that served their particular communities.

Count me among them.

Burlington Northern-Santa Fe Today

The Burlington Northern-Santa Fe Railway has made a concerted effort to preserve the heritage of both railroads, incorporating the design of the Santa Fe logo with colors of gold and black, orange and green (an homage to the Great Northern RR).

The paint schemes are in fact named Heritage 1, 2 & 3. The blue and gold of the Santa Fe is still used, as is the aforementioned War Bonnet scheme, with BNSF replacing the words Santa Fe.

Old landscapes fade away to be replaced by the new, but the people who run the railroads are the same. Regardless of the weather, they maintain the rail lines, rolling stock and locomotive power to deliver coal for our electrical power plants and commodities to fuel the country. Guess that's why I have a special fondness for railroads, railroading and railroaders.

As further proof of my interest, the Santa Fe RR plays an important role in one of my upcoming books, so I will next deconstruct the BNSF. I'll go back in time to tell of the mergers that resulted in the railroad we see today. 

Jasper McCutcheon interviews Halsey Pearson

Near the end of October, I sat down with WWII veteran Halsey Pearson, one of two characters in the Jardonn Smith short story, The Caricature. A summer-like day allowed us to chat while on the screened-in porch of Halsey's Appalachian Mountains cabin, where he likes to relax by singing folk tunes.

Jasper: So, Halsey, what made you take up the guitar and singing?

Halsey: Just a late-life hobby for the most part. I wanted to learn songs from the 1930's, my growing up years. Tunes like the Delmore Brothers were doing. The Blue Sky Boys and the Monroe Brothers, you know, Charlie and Bill, before Bill Monroe started up his bluegrass sounds.

J: Are they easy to learn?

H: Some are, some aren't. A lot of them sound simple enough, but they'll throw in an awkward chord to the progression, like a minor third or augmented seventh.

J: Does Floyd enjoy listening to you play?

H: He's usually reading in another room, but if he hears me make a major mistake he'll let me know I hurt his ears. Jokingly, of course.

J: Did the cricket really synchronize its leg rubbing with the tempo of your song?

H: It did, and that's a fact. Exactly on the date of our 25th Anniversary. Next day, he rejoined his other crickets, rubbing legs any old way they liked.

J: You and Floyd first met in 1944, correct?

H: Well, we never met. Never spoke. I just saw him after we rescued him from that Japanese camp, and he was in no condition to be socializing.

J: Did you ever dream it would be forty years before you'd see him again?

H: At the time, I didn't give it a thought. And I sure as hell never entertained any sort of physical attraction to him, just a curiosity as to what the Japanese had done to him during interrogations.

J: What about later?

H: Hmm... well, I suppose it did begin to gnaw at me through the years. Look, homosexuality wasn't part of my thinking. Not overseas. Not when I came home to the States. I got me a job and started ladder climbing. Found me a woman who was beautiful inside and out, and we got down to the business making a home and raising a family.

J: And you never thought about Floyd?

H: All right, you pushy son of a gun. Sure, I thought about Floyd, but in my subconscious. That's where he needed to stay, but then after my wife died, well, I got to thinking that maybe thinking about him wasn't such a bad thing.

J: Still, you never took the initiative to find him?

H: What for? I figured he'd married and done what I'd done. What reason would I have to think that he'd be looking for a boyfriend?

J: And then you saw him at the forty-year reunion?

H: Yep. In 1984.

J: What did you think when you first saw him?

H: I thought, Halsey, you better find out what he's doing here and what his situation is.

J: And what was his situation?

H: Ha! Let's just say he was available, after we worked out a few kinks.

J: And the rest is history.

H: As they say.

J: All right, Halsey, you and Floyd were in your sixties when you hooked up. Right?

H: Correct.

J: Now, you're in your eighties. Do you and Floyd still, you know, do it?

H: Like rabbits.

J: Rabbits in lust?

H: No, rabbits in love. Without that, I doubt either one of us could even get it up.

J: Well, thank you for giving up your guitar-playing time for this little chat.

H: Stay right where you are, mister. The price for this little chat is that you have to suffer through my singing.

J: Gladly.


The full story of Halsey Pearson and Floyd Strick is told by author Jardonn Smith. It's called The Caricature, is available in ebook formats and can be viewed at either the author's web site HERE, or the publisher's web site, MLR PRESS.

So I Wrote a Romance Called TRICKS

My latest novel is now available. Read to the end to find out how you can win your own free, signed copy of Tricks, delivered right to your door personally...by me...in a leather jock strap. Well, that last part isn't true, but I do ship first class.

This book is different.

Yes, boys and girls, this is my first full-length gay romance, an endearing little opposites-attract tale about a male stripper in a sleazy gay bar in Chicago's Boystown and the nerd who falls for him. Those of you in Chicago might recognize the bar that inspired me.

"What are you? Getting soft? A love story...really?" You might be wondering. Well, Tricks does have my own distinctive and dark touches, so I hope you'll give the book a chance and see how I make a gay love story wholly my own.

Here's the synopsis from the back cover:
Tricks can mean many things: sex partners, deceptions, even magic. In Rick R. Reed searing love story, it means all three.

Arliss is a gorgeous young dancer at Tricks, the hottest club in Chicago's Boystown. Sean is the classic nerd, out of place in Tricks, but nursing his wounds from a recent break-up. When the two spy each other, magic blooms.

But this opposites-attract tale does not run smooth. What happens when Arliss is approached by one of the biggest porn producers in the business? Can he make his dreams of stardom come true without throwing away the only real love he's ever known? And will this question even matter if the mysterious producers realize their dark intentions?

And here's a little taste:
Arliss had everything he needed right in front of him for that night's performance-hardhat, check, steel-toed boots, check, tool belt, check, black mesh thong with pouch for his rather prodigious endowment, big check. Yes, Arliss was just about ready for his turn on the stage at Tricks, located in Chicago's infamous Boystown neighborhood, at its epicenter on the corner of Belmont and Halsted. He also had before him a tall tumbler of Stoli vodka with just a whisper of cranberry juice cocktail in it for color, and a half-empty pack of Marlboro Ultralights. The latter two items helped the twenty-one-year-old calm himself before a performance, and the vodka in particular went a long way toward reducing backstage jitters.

He lit up a cigarette and regarded himself through the smoke. The lights in the crowded dressing room, which he shared with the other eight or so exotic dancers, were unforgiving. Fluorescent did little to hide any imperfections like rings under the eyes, reddened noses from too much partying, and, for those on their way out of the club, track marks on the arms. But Arliss didn't have to worry about signs of drug abuse showing up on his person. He had learned to just say no a long time ago, in a manner that he preferred not to dredge up, at least not now, when he was trying to put himself in a cheerful, high-energy mode.

The face that looked back at him was young, handsome, and vital. Arliss had a shock of white blond hair that stuck up in a manner reminiscent of rocker Billy Idol back in his glory days, before Arliss was even born. Both ears sported piercings-from one a single razor blade, cast in sterling, dangled; from the other, three hoops crawled up the side of his ear, growing smaller as they ascended. Arliss had full lips, sharp cheekbones, a cleft in his chin, and the most piercing ice blue eyes in the Midwest (or so he had been told). The only thing that marred his nearly perfect face was a gap between his front teeth, which he comforted himself by saying that the space gave him character. Cigarette clenched between his teeth, he struggled into his costume, ending by stuffing his dick into the pouch that protruded from his black thong. His member stuck out in such a way that invited grasping hands, which is what Arliss wanted, as long as there was cash in those hands to stuff the thong even more fully.

Attired in a costume that would make the construction worker from the Village People look demure, Arliss turned in front of the mirror to ensure he was the perfect fantasy specimen of pornographic machismo. He was grateful he had added the angel wing tattoo to his back and the snakes that twisted around each bicep. And the one on his chest, the tiny heart with the name "Helena" in it, always brought a lump to his throat-or a splash of bile to the back of it, depending on his mood and how forgiving he felt.

But now was not the time for being sentimental! Arliss was glad for the tattoos because they added a bit of manliness to his six-foot-two inch frame that held only 160 pounds in weight. He was what the older men at Tricks referred to as a twink and, thankfully, was a desirable commodity in some circles.
He set the cigarette down in a tin ashtray and took a swig of vodka. He could feel as much as hear the heavy bass of the techno music playing in the bar and knew that Antonio, a Puerto Rican dude with a shaved head and heavy stubble, was probably just about finished with his set, which meant his boxing ensemble cluttered the small stage.

Arliss would come out, dance briefly and flirtatiously with Antonio, and then have the stage to himself. He didn't know how he did it, night after night, but somehow he managed. He had always been the shyest boy in Ruskin, Florida, where he had grown up. If they could see me now... Well, if they could see me now, they'd probably still call me a fag and try to beat the crap out of me. Once again, my dear, now is not the time for sentimentality. He took another swig of vodka, draining the glass and feeling the warmth of the liquor as it spread through his chest and extremities. Show time!

Arliss hurried to the door that separated the cramped dressing room from the bar proper. Tricks didn't really have a stage, although the dancers liked to think of the bar upon which they danced as one. It was Friday night and, from the burble of conversation beneath the pounding beat, sounded as though they had a good crowd. He sucked in a breath, looked down at his perfectly smooth pale skin and six-pack abs and told himself he was gorgeous.

"Don't forget to smile, Toots! You always look like some gloomy Gus out there!" Leave it to Emmett Myers, owner of Tricks and Arliss' boss, to try and unsettle him just before he went on stage.

Arliss flashed the man a big, Farrah Fawcett smile. If the prissy older man with the pencil moustache recognized it as fake, he gave no indication.

"There! That's what they like to see! For heaven's sakes, you have to remember that if they think you're having a good time, they'll have a good time. And a good time means more money for all of us."

Arliss listened as the song wound down, morphing into yet another bass beat that signaled him it was time to stride out through the door, amble across the crowded room, ignore the covert feels and pinches he got as he made his way to the bar, and climb up on it to join Antonio in front of the crowd.

This moment, just before he went out, was always almost surreal. He felt as though he became someone else when he opened that door, or more properly, that his everyday world changed when he opened it. It was kind of like when Dorothy opened the door when she touched down in Oz and saw the color-filled Munchkinland, but instead of munchkins, his world was populated with bitter old queens, alcoholics, and trolls trying to put some oomph into their libidos by staring at boys young enough to be their sons.

"Get out there, gorgeous! Shake your groove thing!" Emmett cackled and placed a hand on Arliss' back to propel him forward. Just as much to get the hand off his back as to get to the stage, Arliss threw open the door, plastered on a big smile, threw his shoulders back and strode through the crowd, keeping his eye on the narrow strip of bar that would, for the next fifteen minutes, be his stage.


And yes, here is how you can win a copy in three easy steps:
1. Leave a comment, along with an e-mail address so I can get in touch with you if you win.
2. Help me spread the word about Tricks. Retweet or post news of Tricks and today's blog on your Twitter or Facebook account or just drop your reader friends an e-mail about it. This part is honor system but I will be spot checking.
3. Subscribe to this blog, using the link on the right.

Note: To enter the contest, you must do so at my official blog at http://rickrreedreality.blogspot.com/
Do not enter on Amazon, Goodreads, or Facebook.

I will announce the winner on Sunday morning.

Don't want to wait? Click on Tricks anywhere in this blog and it will take you to the publisher's website, where you can buy an e-copy direct from them or be linked to Amazon to purchase the paperback. Or buy a Kindle version here.

TOUGH GUY is out today at Amber Allure

Take advantage of the New Release Discount! 35% off.

Buy Link

Tough Guy
by Bryl R. Tyne
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-008-5 (Electronic)

Paul Kennedy is set on entering and winning this year's Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Days' Tough Guy competition. So why is everyone from Paul's ex to the Cody, Wyoming, postmaster hell-bent on discouraging him from competing? Each of his friends has his reasons. And among those, one is clear—Tony Austin, the Tough Guy champ for three years running, is sure to kick Paul's ass.

But Paul's not worried. He's book smart and determined...he'll win, as sure as there's cowboy in his blood.

Tony Austin, however, has other designs on Paul Kennedy. Designs planned to keep Paul beneath him if only Tony can figure out how to make his desires known. But "Guy Grunt" gets a man only so far, and Tony must rely on the only other language he has a chance of stumbling through...the language of love.

Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Western (Modern Day) / BDSM (Light) / Exhibitionism / Public Places
Heat Level : 3
Length: Novella (18k words)

Coming Sunday to Amber Allure

Tough Guy
by Bryl R. Tyne
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-008-5 (Electronic)
AVAILABLE OCTOBER 31, 2010!

Paul Kennedy is set on entering and winning this year's Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Days' Tough Guy competition. So why is everyone from Paul's ex to the Cody, Wyoming, postmaster hell-bent on discouraging him from competing? Each of his friends has his reasons. And among those, one is clear—Tony Austin, the Tough Guy champ for three years running, is sure to kick Paul's ass.

But Paul's not worried. He's book smart and determined...he'll win, as sure as there's cowboy in his blood.

Tony Austin, however, has other designs on Paul Kennedy. Designs planned to keep Paul beneath him if only Tony can figure out how to make his desires known. But "Guy Grunt" gets a man only so far, and Tony must rely on the only other language he has a chance of stumbling through...the language of love.

Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Western (Modern Day) / BDSM (Light) / Exhibitionism / Public Places
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (18k words)

Excerpt:

...“Sonofabitch.”

I felt him digging around in the pants pooled at my boots.

“What in all hell?” I tried stepping away.

“Don’t panic.” He grabbed one of my thighs, held me in place. “I…” He must’ve been trying every one of my pockets.

Damn, he’s got big hands. “You what?”

He paused in his search, and it felt like he rested his head on the hand at the top of my thigh.

“What?” I repeated the question.

“I forgot a goddamned rubber, okay!” He shoved off me in a hurry.

“In my wallet,” I told him, but apparently, he’d located it already. He quieted down, quit stomping around, and I could hear him breathing.

“Yeah. Figured as much,” he said.

By now he’d found a condom, but I couldn’t tell if he was still behind me. I heard nothing except a lone cricket somewhere to my left. “Yo. Cowboy,” I whispered and heard a faint click and the thunk of my wallet as it landed between my boots atop my scrunched-down jeans. Finally, the rip—the sound I’d anticipated for a while now—the stretch, the snap. He rolled on the condom.

“Twenty-five, huh?”

He’d checked out my driver’s license? Is nothing sacred anymore? “You got a damned flashlight back there, or what?”

“What’s it to you if I do?” he asked, then took hold of my ass in both hands and spread my cheeks. “A man likes to know what he’s getting into.” 

Read more at Amber Allure...

Invaluable Info 4FREE

For those of you who write -- and I mean any writing of any sort -- LAURA BAUMBACH, founder of MLR PRESS was interviewed by Jayson at

RADIO DENTATA

and she clearly explains the writing process, how to get published, and how to promote yourself and your product.

It is the most worthwhile thirty minutes you could possibly invest in your career. Seriously, go there and listen. NOW!

In the Heat of Summer...

What better way to cool down than Cazwell and his Ice Cream Truck?

How's that working out for you? Still feel the heat? Hmm...

How about checking out my latest release, Trey #3. Maybe this m/m/m menage will help take the edge off. Maybe.

Trey #3 by Bryl R. Tyne

Noble Romance Publishing
Genre: Action/Thriller

Length: Novella

 Read an excerpt!

Buy Link

Trey wants his job.

Drew wants Trey.

Travon wants them both, but must avoid the law.

When boyfriend Drew and twice a month fuck buddy Travon decide to go in together on a local Las Cruces pawnshop heist, neither expects to find Trey working behind the counter. Funny, both Drew and Travon figured the accountant-degree-holding Trey to be a safe bet. Both are fiercely protective. None expected to meet.

With the loot bagged, the ironic love triangle exposed, and the cops on the way, what's there to do but drag Trey along for the ride?

Trey discovers sometimes choosing between the lesser of two evils is all but impossible.

That didn't work either? Guess I'm losing my touch...

Maybe next time.

Happy HOT Summer!

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, STARbooks Press, Untreed Reads Publishing, and Changeling Press.You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

x-posted at The Rainbow Studio and Defying Description

 

Hot July Weekly Picks

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All in the Family

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Playing the Fields

Summer time is when the minds of young men turn to... SPORTS!


Here's three books involving some amazing athletes, from

Click title links to see covers and read excerpts.

Something About Trevor

by

Drew Hunt

Paul Harrison is completely straight. His house will not flood again. And gay men don’t play cricket. Eventually Paul will find out just how incorrect these preconceived notions are.

When the river overflows its banks, Paul is forced to find temporary accommodation. The only practical suggestion comes from Trevor, an out and proud work colleague. Despite Paul’s hesitancy regarding Trevor’s offer of hospitality, he accepts and soon grows to admire Trevor, his humanity, his determination, and his abilities with a cricket ball.

In order to protect his fragile emotions, Trevor keeps people at a distance by wearing gaudy clothing and behaving outrageously. He had no way of knowing that doing the right thing by offering Paul his spare room will lead to such a big change in his life.

A tenuous connection develops between the two men. But misunderstandings and in-born prejudices threaten to derail their growing friendship. Things get even more complicated when Gary, Trevor’s ex-lover, shows up.

Can Trevor learn to trust again? Will Paul listen to his heart and discover that, despite first impressions, there’s just something about Trevor he can’t deny?

Capping The Season
by

Ryan Field

Hunter’s sex appeal came in that innocent way dark, rough men always seem to notice. About five eleven, with blond hair and large blue eyes; a slim body frame enhanced by working out in the basement with free weights and push ups. Though his arms weren’t particularly large, his chest muscles responded to bench presses and push ups to the point where they rounded and popped like unbreakable ostrich egg shells sliced directly in half. But most men noticed one thing first: his round ass, a protruding cushion begging to be pounded and slapped and plugged.

 

The landscaping guys, always on the down low, would furtively watch while he pruned and trimmed hedges, parading his naked torso, sometimes pulling the sheer shorts so far below his waist half the crack of his smooth ass could be seen. Though it didn’t happen often (most of the time this was just a show), when Hunter noticed one of the guys seriously watching, he’d gradually arch his back, stretch his arms and then nod toward the garden shed. The guy would follow him to a private place behind the shed, where Hunter would slip off his shorts and lay face down on a pile of mulch. He’d then spread his legs wide, arch his back so his engaging ass would be in the air, and the guy would pull down his zipper for a quick afternoon fuck. In a white enamel pail with chips around the rim, Hunter kept lube and a full supply of condoms. Once, on a rare, unforgettable afternoon, when four Spanish speaking studs had been drinking too much beer on the job, Hunter spread his legs and arched his back while all four took turns nailing him into the mulch pile. It took a week for the reddish hand prints, where they’d squeezed his supple ass so hard, to disappear.

 

Though he’d miss the summertime romps and capping off the baseball season with the landscaping boys, living a mortgage-free life was far more exciting. The new town house, in an exclusive community of only thirty large units, had year round landscapers included in the monthly community fees. Hunter would never have to push a lawn mower, dig with a shovel or rake a leaf again. He wouldn’t have to work out at home in the basement anymore either; he could now afford to join a gym like all his friends, where he’d prance around naked in the locker room for men who were just as horny (and dirty) as the landscaping guys. He also portended he’d be able to distract at least a few of the guys who landscaped in the new town house community, too, by walking around on his rear deck in nothing but a short towel.

 

 

Power Play
by

J.M. Snyder

Ryan Talonovich is the star of his college hockey team, until an accident during practice leaves him confined to a wheelchair. The doctors say he'll walk again but a new season is already underway and he's been replaced on the team, which leaves him feeling alone and betrayed. What's the use of fighting to get back on the ice now?

 

Then he meets Dante Espinosa, a short track skater on the city's speed skating club. Though he has to work overtime to afford his sport, Dante is hell on ice, and dreams of making the cut on the U.S. Olympic Speedskating Team.

 

Their love of the ice brings them together, but too many obstacles stand in their way: Ryan's struggle with therapy. The memory of Dante's first boyfriend. Lack of funding to the event, Dante's harassing boss, a skating friend in love with him, and Wil Dietrich, who will do anything to win.

 

You ain't old, Ed. You just need to get laid...

Ed's boss seems to think so, anyway.  Don't let her opinion fool you, though. Ed's never had a problem getting what he's wanted. His problem is accepting what he gets, which in May Day, happens to be a sip from the fountain of sordid youth--two youths, to be exact. Young or 39-and-holding, you'll enjoy my latest erotic romance, May Day, available at Changeling Press.




May Day
by Bryl R. Tyne
cover art by Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-452-8

Book Summary His forty-ninth birthday approaching, Ed is expecting nothing more than his usual stiff drink and an anonymous fuck in the back room of Yancy's Crossings. What he never expected was to be picked up by two college students and taken for a ride that would change his life forever.
Purchase May Day here.

Twilight's Last Gleaming

Twilight might be a visual feast, but reading vampire erotica can stimulate for countless moons to come. 1EroticaEbooks has got the vampires you're looking for, and here are three picks for our weekly sizzlers. Click title links for info and excerpts.

Vampires of Prague

by

Elliott Mabeuse

Naked from the waist up, she was aware only of his eyes now, and of something he saw inside her, of a part of her she’d always been dimly aware of but that now lit up so that it obscured something else. It was a secret of hers—something her grandmother had told her, and she felt it now under the vampire’s eyes with starling clarity, a memory from twenty years ago. She smelled the old woman’s powder, saw the fussy wallpaper in the room, and felt once again a child’s frightened and impatient emotions as her grandmother pressed something into her hands, and told her to keep it, keep it and learn it. Remember it, for it was hers, only hers. And she had, and now Szandor was here for it. It had been real and her grandmother had been right. Szandor was here for it and she had it for him, waiting, waiting all these years…

And then it was gone and Szandor Arnyak had her in his arms, his hands at the belt of her skirt.

Oh God, Szandor wait! I can’t just do it like this! Like an animal, like a common whore. There has to be some respect, some tenderness—”

But he wasn't listening. He had her skirt open, the belt, the zipper in the back, the top pushed down, For his size and his power he worked with incredible grace and finesse, his fingers barely touching her, and with a deft sweep of his hand, her skirt and slip were gone and she was lying there on the sunken bed in stockings, panties and garters, still arguing with him though the conversation had long since been decided.

No, he said finally, silencing her. He stared directly into her eyes, and his eyes were glowing. “For this you are my whore, Lydia. You are precisely a whore for me!”

Soul Kiss: The Confessions Of A Homoerotic Vampire

by

Alexander Renault

Cuthbert is an immortal, gay, and sexually ravenous member of the undead.

Historically accurate, Soul Kiss tells an enthralling story set against backdrops of differing cultures from ancient Egypt to the Greco-Roman era, from medieval Cornwall to Civil War Philadelphia, as Cuthbert searches for identity through erotic pleasure. From musings on existential questioning to the value of immortality itself, Renault guides his reader through a gripping maze of passion, lust, and sexual obsession. The tale of Cuthbert’s journey ends in modern America at a dwelling on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. After a series of emotionally empty sexual encounters, Cuthbert must face the truth of what he has for so long been searching -- who he is and what it means to be both gay and immortal. The renowned contemporary poet Antler says Alexander Renault's work shows a "heightened eros awareness." We think you'll agree.

The Ascension
by

Max Griffin

Gabe can't keep up with his lover, Luke. Athletic and driven, Luke planned their holiday camping on Slain's Peak. Gabe, sensitive and quiet, hoped for a week of hot sex under the stars. But nothing on the vacation turns out as intended. From Gabe's hidden drug use, to an unexpected snowstorm, to a sudden illness that befalls Luke, it's a disaster. When all seems lost, a mystery man appears from nowhere and rescues the two, leading them to his home in the depths of the mountain. That's when the dark mysteries lurking in Slain's Peak surface, and everything changes forever for the two lovers.

Let's Play the Ponies

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Written Expressions of Erotica

This week, 1EroticaEbooks.com welcomes a publisher of tantalizing tales teeming with sexy characters who demand attention. Three picks from Written Expressions. Click title links to see books and excerpts.

Strip Club

Ana Star

For their second anniversary of being together, Alex takes Dahlia to a strip club named Liquid Gold. There they meet Lolita, a beautiful brunette dancer who ignites their sexual desires and passion for one another. Will they leave satisfied or beg for more?



Red Ridin'

Milena Gomez


Erotic Fairytales

Tomboy Priscilla, better known as Little Red, wants to break free. She's not so little anymore and she wants to experience pleasures unknown to her.

Matt Wolf wants one thing and one thing only. He wants Little Red in his bed and he knows how to get it, even though he'd failed to do so.

Jason Hunter knows that protecting Little Red is something he was born to do, even without Little Red's consent or her grandmother's endless plea to protect her, he would always do so. But when Little Red proves to have other plans for Wolf and him, things get complicated and Hunter cannot seem to say no to her advances.

One woman, two men. One hot tale of ridin' men.



Tempting The Dom [Sex Stones: April-Diamond]

Dakota Trace

Sex Stones


The ink on Adalia Diamonte's private investigator license is barely dry when world renowned jeweler, Bathilda Schmidt hires her. Bathilda wants her to find a ‘one of a kind’ marquise diamond ring which has gone missing. Addie's excited about her first job until she finds out the man suspected of taking it is none other than Domhnall "Dom" O'Shanahan. Her past with the sensual and demanding Dom had her fleeing his side. Not because he scared her - because she had wanted him with every fiber of her being – but because he demanded that she give herself to him – mind, body & soul.

Dom knew what he wanted and he wasn't above using his friend Bathilda to get exactly what he wanted. He's tired of Addie running from him. When she sneaks into his mansion wearing a harem girl costume with a local belly dancer group, his lust is aroused and he sets out to make their reunion a reality. But this time he won't let her fears keep her from giving herself to him.


Jasper says, "A triple-play of spring offerings at summer temperatures."

Buy DESPERATE-Get 20% off FORSAKEN & DENIAL

The poor guardian angel Zagzagel. Every time he thinks he’s making progress getting his charges to accept who they are and what they want out of life one of them goes off the deep end.

In this, the third Diary entry, Zagzagel’s got his hands full again. 

This time around, his charge is having to deal with an overly-religious father, fears of going to Hell and his growing attraction to his roommate. All of this can add up to a lot of pressure on a person, and Zagzagel soon finds his charge is looking to fix the situation in a manner that’s sure to make Big Papa mighty upset. Things are looking desperate indeed…
 
If you’re new to the world of Zagzagel the Guardian Angel, you couldn’t have picked a better time to read. In honor of the release of the third short story in the series, Untreed Reads is offering a 20% discount on the first two Diary entries. You can pick up either “Forsaken” or “Denial” at the discounted price from The Untreed Reads Store, CoffeeTimeRomance.com, AllRomance.com, OmniLit.com and 1RomanceEbooks.com

You can also get the discounts at Smashwords. Use coupon code LX83V for “Forsaken” and EH67W for “Denial.” Offer expires at midnight PST on June 30th.


The Diary Entries don’t need to be read in any specific order, so enjoy them all. All titles in the series are available from most ebook retailers in the most popular formats, including the Kindle.

Sausage King Smart

I suppose it's easy to poke fun at Jimmy Dean and his overblown, down-home, cornball image. Since his death on Sunday, there's been plenty of snide remarks all over the web, but the way I see it, he was none of those things.

Consider this: Jimmy Dean took a rather average singing voice, parlayed it into a five-week chart-topper, which led to his own network television show and movie roles, which led to his building a million-dollar food empire. Not bad for a cornball, eh?

Here's a mini-biography, courtesy of David Hinckley at the New York Daily News, as is the photo.

His first pop recordings, in 1957, included "Little Sandy Sleighfoot," a touching Christmas story about an elf who was 4 feet tall with feet that were 3 feet 3 inches long.

The other elves made fun of him, naturally, until he discovered he could ski without skis. So the night the stable burned, he was able to race down the hill and save the reindeer.

It wasn't a big hit. It was a great template.

Four years later Dean's moment finally came around: "Big Bad John," a No. 1 hit for five weeks in late 1961.

Big Bad John, for those born too late to remember, was a mysterious miner who "stood 6 foot 6, weighed 245." No one knew much about him until the day the mine shaft collapsed, trapping 21 men underground. Everyone else started crying. John "grabbed a sagging timber, gave out with a groan, and like a giant oak tree just stood there alone." And then?

"Twenty men scrambled from a would-be grave and now there's only one left down there to save -- Big John."

That, alas, didn't happen. But the survivors did place a marble stone in front of "that worthless pit" and it read, "At the bottom of this mine lies a big, big man -- Big John."

Admit it. There's a lump in your throat.

Nor did Dean stop there.

His follow-up was "Dear Ivan," a melodramatic recitation set to the tune for "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." It called on his Russian counterpart to recognize how much the average person of the U.S. and the Soviet Union really shared, despite the tensions of the Cold War.

A year later he recorded "P.T. 109," a romantic account of the World War II drama of then-President John F. Kennedy.

Then in 1976 he returned with "I.O.U.," a recitation thanking his mother, and mothers everywhere.

He never had a hit to match "Big Bad John." He didn't have to. That song raised his profile high enough for ABC to give him a variety show, which in turn enabled him to launch the restaurants and the sausage.

Nor did we begrudge him any of it. He made it all look as easy as shucking corn.


My final note: shucking corn isn't easy, and I admire Jimmy Dean for his over-achieving accomplishments.

Yours truly,
Jack (for Jasper) McCutcheon

Femdom Festival at 1EroticaEbooks

Foaming at the mouth over ferocious females, I feel no guilt fawning over the fully-stocked files of femdom fiction featured at 1EroticaEbooks.

For real, they are quickly becoming THE PLACE to find not only the latest, but the best e-books on the web for femdom stories, and their collection of offerings grows daily. So, for this week's selection of triple-digit sizzlers, I asked the webmasters at 1Erotica to suggest three titles involving the most alluring, most sexily-dominant female characters they could come up with. Click title links to view covers, read excerpts and see if you agree.

His Secret Self

by

Alex Jordaine

Mark Wright is living a lie. A closet submissive, he feels unable to reveal his secret self to his wife Lauren for fear it might destroy their relationship. Instead he visits a professional dominatrix, Mistress Simone, who caters expertly to his masochistic needs. But Lauren has her own dark secret. She is having a clandestine affair with a business client, Sam Lowell. When she leaves her husband for Sam, Mark's life spirals out of control. He develops a drink problem, which leads to him being sacked from his high-flying job. As he struggles to rebuild his shattered life he dreams desperately of somehow getting Lauren to return to him.

All the cards seem to be stacked against Mark ever getting Lauren back until she discovers Sam has been doing behind her back exactly what she'd once done to her husband, and she walks out on him. She gets back in touch with Mark who finally finds the courage to admit to her he's a masochist. This leads to Lauren embarking on a personal voyage of discovery during which she at last discovers her own true self. From that point on the tension becomes almost unbearable as the story builds towards its unforgettable conclusion.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, anal sex, domination, bondage, and sadomasochism.

Female Whips 'n Kisses

by

Dr Jane Foxx

Cassandra’s black, thigh-high boots clicked their noisy way across the floor as she moved the wooden stool to a new position. The tethered male groaned softly.

Cassandra sat comfortably again, wiggling her curvy bottom into place, and hissed, "Let's see if I can find those ultra-sensitive testicles of yours! I'm sure a little prolonged, judicious squeezing will make you pay better attention to me! Hold still until “Mommy” gets a proper handful, and then you can squirm and wiggle that cute little ass all you want. Ha ha!"

I saw Cassandra's right hand move slowly upward from between the rear of the male's naked thighs, and then she grasped tenaciously. Cassandra chuckled with satisfaction as her subject winced sharply on contact.

"Yes!" She grinned sadistically. "There's your plump little darlings! You didn't think you could hide them from me, did you?"

High Heels in the Library

by

SJ Barellstalk

Tommy Watkins is teased, denied, milked and disciplined by the pretty women of Svenmehr College, an all women's school. Tommy cannot resist the high heels, slender legs, and short skirts of the pretty students at the College. The female teasing is real, erotic, sensual and creative. Tommy's masculine urges result in his getting into plenty of trouble and receiving plenty of appropriate punishment and discipline. The women teach him to be polite and chaste in a female world after they have teased and denied him almost into insanity.

* * *

Don't know about you, but I am cowering before these evil goddesses already. I only hope they feel these descriptions do them justice.

Yours truly,

Jack (for Jasper) McCutcheon

BLOOD ON THE BIAS ~ NOSFERATU ILLUME

Excerpt from LOVE ON THE BIAS: BOOK #2 OF THE DRAQUAL VAMPYRE CHRONICLES by WILLIAM MALTESE:

I scraped his tanned neck with my needle-sharp fangs, careful not to break the skin. I closed my lips over his vulnerable jugular and felt the tempting pulse of his life’s blood beckoning to me. I kissed that very spot and made move to get up, leave him, and, thus, avoid all temptation, as well as the sun soon to flood his bedroom.

He reached out, forcefully pulled me back down with and over him, our hard masculine bodies aligned in full dual nakedness. His large and powerful hands ran their fingers up my arms, over my cheeks, into my hair, at each of my temples, to clamp down hard amongst the silky strands and lock my face into position directly over his.

“What if I could make it happen that you never had to leave me at dawn, ever again?” he asked.

I only-if smiled and said, “If pigs could fly and cabbages were kings.”

“I saw a pig fly once,” he said. “At university. Catapulted by us college boys across an entire field by means of a rubber sling.”

“And have you seen cabbages wear crowns and sit imperial thrones?” There are things in this universe possible, like flying pigs; there are things impossible, like me ever again experiencing the light of day.

“I’ll tell you what I have seen,” he said, still muscling me firmly atop him, his intense gaze still seriously locked with mine. “A long-forgotten family journal, heavy with dust, and long-gone mealy with neglect, that describes a confrontation between a long-ago ancestor of mine with one of your kind who actually walked the day.”

“Impossible!” I said. “There would have been rumors, legend … something.”

“Before yours was wooden-staked, before his lair and he were put to the flames, his secret was found and saved — his recipe for candle, chocolate wafer, chant, and aromatic scent — Nosferatu Illume — to make his day-walking possible. Will you mix wax, eat chocolate, say the chant, and dab your wrist with scent?”

Had the moment finally arrived, then, when his family’s long and ancient history of killing vampires, not loving us, kicked in; this, his final, fatal trap inherently being laid by him for me? If so, he played this vampire very well, indeed, having loved from me, in the bedroom, in our many torrid embraces, that which I desired, besides him, the very most within my very undead existence.

Exclusively From the Vampyres Draqual and Candle Artist Jfay


NOSFERATU ILLUME


Used by Vlad Draqual in a secret ceremony to enable him to walk in the light of day, NOSFERATU ILLUME is a very dark and beautiful aroma of Rich Chocolate, Exotic Amber, as well as other "secret" ingredients known only by the Draqual Vampires and shared only with Candle Artist Jfay to mix this special potion.

But now you too can enjoy the secret potion for yourself ~





www.wickdreads.com/wickdpotions.htm




The Potion Necklaces and Vials are adorned in Black and Red and feature a Gothic Star Charm. (Necklace is 24" and complete with fastener.) Coffin Boxes are available for purchase with your Potion.

Be sure to read the Draqual Vampire Chronicles Book 1: SUCKS! as you await the arrival of Book 2: BLOOD ON THE BIAS due out in 2011.






www.wickdreads.com/bloodonthebias.htm

A one-thousand year old, handsome, and sexy vampyre's much-in-demand blood-splattered fashion-line is strutted by blood-splattered models on blood-splattered runways in the blood-splattered abattoirs, slaughter houses, and butcher shops of the world ... as his own blood-line makes Vladymyr Draqual beloved and hated by the most powerful members of his kind.

SUCKS!
Book #1 of The Draqual Vampyre Chronicles
William Maltese