Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Mid Week Tease: A Home for Jesse

Ooh, I'm a bit late for Mid Week Tease! I hope it's okay. Thank you, Sandra Bunino, for organizing the weekly hop. I can't wait to visit other bloggers. You should do, too! Please check out this list to go to other blogs!

For this week, I share with you an excerpt from my upcoming release from JMS Books, A Home for Jesse, an m/m romance.

Trey gets out of his car and slowly closes the door behind him. Jason—who was he kidding? Those sleepy green eyes, curled lips—Trey has been aware of them since the first day he laid eyes on Jesse. Luckily, he has a habit of keeping track of the birthdays of everyone in the set. A little stretch when it comes to Jesse will not make anyone suspicious. So far he has found out: Jesse’s name, of course, his birthday, where he comes from, what he likes (chocolate and strawberry), and the fact that he’s too pretty to be an extra
Trey sighs and tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. He can lie and tell himself that he saw something in Jesse’s eyes when he greeted him just now. Jesse always seems serious and reserved and only changes when he is immersed in his role, whether he’s playing a clerk in Farmer’s Market or a customer in the diner. Trey can tell when Jesse’s acting—not that he always pays attention to the man. Oh no, not at all. It’s Jesse, really, who keeps stealing glances at him, but then how would he know if he didn’t—
Trey slides down the wall, throwing his head back, letting it go thud. His hand roams over his chest and his eyes squeeze shut.
Oh, Jesse,” he moans. “Jess…” He rolls the name on his tongue, liking the feel of it. “Jesse. Jess. Jessie.”
His hand travels south and soon it finds the heart of his pleasure. Trey’s eyes roll up, he whimpers behind clamped lips—his hand gets more and more frantic, when suddenly…

Hope you like it! ♥

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

In the spotlight: Mia Kerick


One October morning, high school junior Bryan Dennison wakes up a different person—helpful, generous, and chivalrous—a person whose new admirable qualities he doesn’t recognize. Stranger still is the urge to tie a red sheet around his neck like a cape.
Bryan soon realizes this compulsion to wear a red cape is accompanied by more unusual behavior. He can’t hold back from retrieving kittens from tall trees, helping little old ladies cross busy streets, and defending innocence anywhere he finds it.
Shockingly, at school, he realizes he used to be a bully. He’s attracted to the former victim of his bullying, Scott Beckett, though he has no memory of Scott from before “the change.” Where he’d been lazy in academics, overly aggressive in sports, and socially insecure, he’s a new person. And although he can recall behaving egotistically, he cannot remember his motivations.
Everyone, from his mother to his teachers to his “superjock” former pals, is shocked by his dramatic transformation. However, Scott Beckett is not impressed by Bryan’s newfound virtue. And convincing Scott he’s genuinely changed and improved, hopefully gaining Scott’s trust and maybe even his love, becomes Bryan’s obsession.

With a foreword by C. Kennedy

Book Links:


Now, before I go any further in the direction of who I was before the change, I think maybe it’s time to mention something you may already consider to be a glaring oversight on my part in the recounting of this story. But, in my defense, when I was first informing you of the symptoms of my initial “Red Sheet Urge,” it hadn’t seemed so important to bring this up. As soon as the whole “what happened Saturday night with Scott?” thing came up, I admit, I probably should have mentioned it.
Yeah… you know what I’m talking about—the big “are you gay?” question.
So here it is, plain and simple… which accepting you are gay in high school is anything but. I like guys. No, not all guys. I wouldn’t touch Brandon Wilson with a ten-foot pole. That was a clever play on words, wasn’t it? I mean, the whole “pole” thing…. Whatever. Just keep this in mind: I wouldn’t touch Brandon with my pole, even if it was ten feet long.
Completely different story with Scott Beckett… and even though I’d apparently blocked him out of my mind since the change, as soon as I saw him sitting alone in the cafeteria on Monday, I’d recognized my attraction to him. Because Scott… well, he just did it for me. You know, he floated my boat, flew my flag, buttered my biscuit—go ahead, take your pick of idioms. I liked his overall smallness, his delicate features, his wispy blond hair, and his pale-blue eyes. I liked the way he wore his emotions on his face like a badge of honesty. I liked his tenor voice, his sharp tongue, his snarky attitude. Uh-huh, I was attracted to Scott on the outside, and by the time the Saturday night in question had occurred, I figure I must have completely fallen for him in every way, or I wouldn’t have been caught sucking face with him in a closet (which could be considered another play on words, but in this case we actually were inside a closet).
Which didn’t mean I was out and proud, or even closeted and considerate. Because from what Scott had told me about myself in the men’s room yesterday, and from what I’d read of his narrative, I was neither of those things. It appeared I simply wasn’t brave or courageous enough when it came to publicly coming out, or even just privately accepting who I was. Unfortunately, it seemed my strong feelings for Scott Beckett hadn’t changed me from behaving like the coward I was—the big jock who hid behind his mega size and his stellar athletic ability. So, you can go ahead and add one more personality trait to the list above of who I was before the change. Just add “ball-less wonder”; that should cover it fairly well.
You’re never going to believe me when I say this, but what the hell, it is my story, and if you don’t like it you don’t have to read it. So anyways, here goes nothing: I wasn’t scared of anything anymore. I didn’t give a shit who knew I was gay. I wasn’t put out by the thought of helping around the house. I wanted to smile at the teachers as I walked into their classrooms and have them smile right back because they knew that Bryan Dennison was putting forth all of his best. I wanted to sit at different lunch tables and get to know kids whose strengths did not show up only on a court or a diamond or a field.
But mostly, I want to make it right with Scott.
So, it turned out I was actually was scared of one thing. I was scared of screwing this up. That nagging voice in the back of my head, however, reminded me that I had to take it slowly, so my actions would seem genuine. To time it all right, so my words would be believed. It had taken me years to get to this point, where I had a hard time looking in the mirror and liking who I saw. I resolved to take the long and difficult road, if necessary, as I traveled back in the opposite direction, to the place where I was proud to be me.
I knew for a fact that someday I was going to tie my red sheet around my neck and walk around proudly in public with it blowing in the breeze behind me, because my need for a red sheet is what started all this.
I had just come to grips with the fact that I needed to start acting my age, not my shoe size. And although I wore a very large shoe size, it would still put me in middle school.

Guest Post:

Hi, thank you for inviting me over to your blog.

"Superman (It's Not Easy)"

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naïve
I'm just out to find
The better part of me

I'm more than a bird,
I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me

I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
'Bout a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd but don't be naïve
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed but won’t you concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me

Up, up and away, away from me
Well, it's alright
You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy or anything

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naïve
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me, inside of me [2x]

I’m only a man in a funny red sheet
I’m only a man looking for her dream
I’m only a man in a funny red sheet
It's not easy.
It's not easy to be me.

I am extremely motivated by music. Always have been, and, I assume, I always will be.

When I was younger—high school-aged—music made me dream. (And mostly I dreamed of the musicians who made the music I was listening to.) #trueconfession- Hours upon hours were spent sitting on the living room couch, staring at an album cover of Peter Frampton’s face. In college, music motivated me to go out, to dance, and to mix with people. Real people, not just images on album covers. Much hair gel (to spike up my eighties bangs) and frosty-looking white lipstick was applied to the tune of The Bangles’ Manic Monday. And when I finally met my husband he would send me home from every date with tapes of songs that reminded him of me.

Choosing my wedding song was stress-inducing. Thus, I ended up choosing one that didn’t work for me, “What a Wonderful World” sung in Louie Armstrong’s raspy voice. Within a year of our marriage (thankfully, my husband still “worked for me” a brief year after matrimony) I changed it to another raspy-voiced singer’s ballad: Brian Adams’ “Die for You.” Yes, I could finally relax.

In my thirties I focused on raising children. I refer to these years, musically speaking, as “The Barney Years”. The only CD’s that found their way into my boom box had a purple dinosaur decorating the front side. I lost touch with pop music and, let me tell you, I was highly pleased when I discovered The Goo Goo Dolls in the early 2000’s.

Now, music serves to motivate me to write. On my blog,, I have placed a playlist of some of my most inspirational songs. What is it—the music or the lyrics—that move me? It is the unique combination of the rhythm, the vocal quality, the melody, and the lyrics that inspire me to create a character—usually a man with troubles and personal tragedies—and the story of the love he needs to save him.

The song “Superman” by Five for Fighting was my inspiration for The Red Sheet. Bryan Dennison wakes up one October morning with a strange urge to protect the innocent, to make the world a better place. He craves the feeling of a red sheet tied around his neck like a cape. Bryan knows he is not crazy; he simply wants to search inside himself to find his better parts.

And it is a painful journey of soul-searching.
“It’s not easy, It’s not easy to be me.”

About the Author:

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.

Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.

Author Links:

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Monday, February 24, 2014

In the spotlight: Kiru Taye

A Valentine Challenge 
Kiru Taye

Contemporary, Multicultural, Romance

Challenge Series – Three friends. Three challenges.
Are they willing to risk everything for love?

Book 1 – A Valentine Challenge

Life is good for ex-soldier turned entrepreneur Michael Ede. Or so he thinks. When his friends set him a challenge to exorcise the memory of a woman from his past, he expects it to be a walk in the park.

Socialite Kasie Bosa is spitting fire at men. Her long-term boyfriend has asked for a break via text message of all things. Fuming, she’s told him to go take a dive off the nearest bridge. So the next man who crosses her path is at risk of being shredded with her spa manicured nails.

Bad news for Michael who has chosen her as the object of his challenge. But neither of them can deny the sizzling chemistry between them nor control their responses, it seems. It’s the season of love. Will they escape unscathed?

Chapter One

I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. ~ Leonardo Da Vinci.

Trouble. He could spot it a mile away.

A man accustomed to dealing with danger in all guises, he'd come across its varied forms from the killing fields of Sierra Leone to the marshy jungle of the Niger Delta. Danger came in the form of men with machetes or AK47s and explosives packed into cars in crowded markets. Though scarred, he'd dealt with trouble and survived.

Yet, standing outside the front entrance of Park Hotel, Enugu, the light morning breeze fanning Michael Ede's face, his gut twisted with the awareness of a different kind of trouble.

Today, danger was disguised as a woman. A stunningly beautiful woman.

Sure, she had the poise and elegance of a well-bred lady. A white shirt and high-waist black trouser suit enhanced as well as hid a curvaceous figure in silk swatches, feet encased in black shiny leather peep-toe high-heeled pumps, jet-black hair pulled back in a chignon, blood-red lips  matched her toe nails, she exuded sophistication and class.

Perhaps it was the way she avoided eye contact or the vicelike grip she had on the Louis Vuitton satchel she clutched in her left hand, but some vulnerability seeped out of the exterior shell of elegance and connected with a part of him—the part currently buried under the rubble of a demolished heart. A flame ignited in his gut, licking his skin with hot yearning.

Danger signals resounded within his head, veins churning with rising adrenaline, all his attention focused on the object coming toward him, a sixty-kilogram missile made of flesh and bones.

Get out of here!

Ignoring the screeching warning, he stood his ground. A born fighter, he was no yellow feathered bird ready to take flight at the flicker of a storm. He never ran from danger.

Sashaying toward him, lips in a glorious pout, eyes amber-brown and captivating, she came to a halt more than two long strides away from him.

Did she know, if she came any closer he might not be able to keep his hands off her? He wanted to touch her caramel skin. Slide his tongue along the curve of her collarbone. Would she taste as delightful as the sweet?

Squeeze. Release. He curled fingers into his palms and unclenched them at his sides; the sound of his pounding heart rivalled the drumbeats heralding Obiagu masquerades.

Hot blood scorched his veins, his body ablaze with desire.  It had nothing to do with the early morning sun burning his back.

And everything to do with the woman standing before him. Trouble!

A lover of books, as a teenager Kiru Taye used to read novels under the blanket during lights-outs in boarding school. These days, with a young family to take care of, she's still sacrificing sleep for the pleasures of a good book.

During the day though, she transforms her wildly vivid imagination into sensual, atmospheric romance stories with passionate characters.

When she’s not writing or reading, she'd hanging out with family and friends or travelling. Born in Nigeria, she currently lives in the UK with husband and children.

You reach her via her blog, Facebook, Twitter, Google+ or Pinterest

Follow her blog for latest news and giveaways:

Read book excerpts and free short stories on her website:

In the spotlight: Nicola Cameron

I'm so happy to have Nicola Cameron on my blog today. Let us all give her a warm welcome!

Thanks for letting me come on your blog today! Trickster is my first M/M shifter story, and was originally intended to be a short story submission for Evernight’s Alpha’s Claim: Manlove Edition anthology. Unfortunately, I wound up having the plague for most of November, and thanks to the various medications I was on the story just wouldn’t gel properly in my head. After three failed attempts I gave up and stuck all three versions in the “maybe someday” file.

Fast forward to January. As I worked on another project, I decided to take a break and flip     through my “maybe someday” file as a palate cleanser. When I found the most advanced version of my Alpha shifter story, I thought, “Hmm, this really is kind of a cool concept. If I expand it I can submit it as an ROTG story. I’ll just add a little more on, then go back to my original project.”

Ha. The next thing I knew, it was four days later, my sleep cycle was completely flipped, I was knee deep in corporate espionage and the complications of M/M human/shifter mating when neither of them are gay, and I’d gone straight past ROTG length and was closing in on 20K. Plus my shifter was no longer an Alpha (which actually worked better, considering one of the other characters really needed to be the Alpha), and I came up with a novel way to send Morse code in an office environment. The result is Trickster, and I have to say that I am very, very pleased with the way it all turned out. (And yes, the plot may have been influenced by my career in various tech companies. Oh, the stories I could tell you...).


Delaney Smith, coyote shifter and Trickster Technologies executive, thinks humans are bland, boring, and undateable. So he gets the shock of his life when he comes back from vacation and scents his mate in the Trickster offices — a mate who is not only male, but quite human.
Mark Fellowes is taken aback when the CTO at his new contract job makes a pass at him, and even more surprised at his temptation to respond. Straight and dating a career-minded businesswoman, he’s never even thought about kissing another man — until now.
When Mark is attacked by thieves trying to steal company files, Delaney must put aside his preconceptions to protect his mate. But will a criminal bent on destroying Trickster Tech separate them before he can stake his claim?



Delaney cleared his throat. Mark yelped and spun, bumping into the dresser next to the bed. The towel around his waist started to slip, and Delaney caught a glimpse of pale, muscled hip before he yanked the terrycloth back into place.
Panting, he glared at Delaney. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “Do you even know how to knock?”
“I did,” Delaney said, trying to sound innocent. “You didn’t answer so I got worried. Didn’t know you were in the shower until I came in here.” And you were coming in there.
Without his glasses, Mark’s resemblance to a furious faun was even more striking. “God. I do not need any more of this tonight,” he growled.
“This what?”
“You, sneaking around and following me everywhere.” He scowled at Delaney’s groin. “Especially with another fucking hard on.”
For some reason, that cheered the shifter. “You noticed, huh?”
“Helen Keller would have noticed it, all right? Does it ever go down?”
“Not since this morning. I can’t help it, babe. I smell you and I get wood.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Mark edged next to the bed, clutching both towels now and looking hunted. “Look, I’m tired. I just want to put on some pajamas and crash, all right? I’ve had a really bad, weird day, so how about we can talk about shapeshifters and," he waved vaguely between them, "that other thing in the morning.”
Delaney ignored the slap of disappointment and nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk later when you’re not tired.” Although you weren’t too tired to jerk off in the shower.
Mark’s cheeks blazed to life. “You listened to me?”
Oh, shit, he can hear my thoughts already? “I didn’t mean to, but coyotes have really good hearing,” Delaney said defensively. “At least you got off. My balls are aching so much I can barely walk straight.”
“So go to your own damn bathroom and rub one out there!”
“It’s not about getting off, dammit!” Delaney yelled back, before catching himself. “Okay, it’s not just about getting off. God, I really wish you were a shifter. Then you’d understand.”
“Well, I’m not a shifter,” Mark snapped, “so you’re just going to have to explain it to the stupid human.”
“I -- Jesus.” Delaney sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and find the right words. “Being drawn to a mate, it isn’t just physical. It’s emotional and spiritual as well.” He gestured at his groin. “Yes, I want to fuck you. That’s pretty damn obvious. I also want to know you. I want to talk to you, find out everything about you—where you grew up, what your family’s like, whether you like sports, what your favorite food is, your opinion on Steven Moffat, what you want to do with the rest of your life, all that. And I want you to get to know me, too.”


Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of "y'all," much to her Chicago family's dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).
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