New Review for Scarlet Myst

"Pure erotica with a whole mix of mob ties, power plays and family scandal… Scarlet Myst is suspense and sex in a tense short assignment, a comparison this read rightly deserves."

Read the full review at Authors by Authors

New Release

Scarlet Angel Release Sunday- Yup Valentines Day.

Beautiful and Deadly…
Seraphim, aka Angel, has known Detective Noah Kamrynn ever since he first picked her up on a charge of solicitation. She was surprised when he used his pull to get her off with only a warning. In the coming years she was found by Malachi, president of the Scarlet Arms. After joining the Arms she was trained in the art of being an assassin. Now her savior from years before needs her help getting revenge against his sister’s murderer. But will their feelings for one another interfere with their jobs? Will Noah have to choose between love and revenge?

Excerpt-
"I'm surprised you came."
Seraphim looked around the vacant cemetery where he'd asked her to meet him. A drizzle had started, adding to the already dreary day. She pulled her long faux-fur-lined coat closer. For all intents and purposes they were a couple consoling one another. She slipped her arm through his. "Well, Detective, your message left me curious."
He'd called earlier asking her to meet him. He needed a favor. Detective Noah Kamrynn had been her guardian angel, of sorts. He'd bailed her out of several scrapes and kept her out of jail a couple times. Seraphim owed him, even if she wasn't on the streets anymore.
Two years ago she'd been recruited to work for the Scarlet Arms. They were a group of female assassins posing as high-class hookers. Most had been street-walkers at some point in lives.
"Like I said, I need a favor," Noah said, not looking down at her. His voice was harsh and guttural, like his throat was closing.
She looked up at him. Dark circles surrounded his bloodshot emerald eyes. A week or so's growth of whiskers covered his usually clean shaven face. His reddish brown hair was in need of a cut and stood up at odd angles. Normally neat in his appearance, he looked as if he'd slept in his clothes and didn't sleep long even then, and he smelled to high heaven of booze. "You look like hell. What sort of favor?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "Thanks, Ang."
Even though he knew her real name he always called her by her street handle Angel, just like she always called him Detective.
"I need you to kill somebody."
She gave him a shocked look. "I can't help you, Detective." She started to slip her arm away from his.
He grabbed her hand. “I know about the Arms. Angel, I know what you do."
"And?" she prompted.
"And you do this for me. I'll do what I do best, look the other way." He glanced down at her now, a fevered glint in his eyes.
"I never pegged you for a crooked cop. Maybe a little bent, but never crooked.” He didn’t say anything, just rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Who do you need taken care of?"
Noah turned back to the grave at their feet. "Her killer."
Seraphim looked down at the headstone. It read, “Alexandria Sylva Kamrynn, October 29, 1980- November 6, 2008.”
"He got off on a technicality, but he did it. Alex was my little sister." His voice softened. “She’d gone back to college, was a little wild but..." He shrugged.
Seraphim squeezed his hand and sighed. Malachi was gonna have her head for this, but she owed it to Noah. "Do you have all the info on the case?"
"I've got everything you need to know." He reached into his leather bomber jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. As she took it he said, "I appreciate you taking care of this."
"Yeah, well, just remember, revenge isn‘t for the faint of heart."
He glanced down at her. “He needs to be stopped. He's a sicko, Angel, so watch it."
A wry smile touched her lips as she turned to walk away. "Sickos never scare me. It‘s the normal guys you gotta watch out for."

Nominated on the Pre-Editors and Editors polls

My book Scarlet Myst has been nominated on P&E under thriller novels. I would really appreciate your votes.
http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelthrill.shtml

Read a review for this book...
http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2009/12/scarlet-myst-by-jade-twilight.html

Read an Excerpt-
Mysti knocked on the hard oak door leading to Malachi’s office. She always hated coming up here; it reminded her of her father’s office. He wouldn’t accept the fact his daughter preferred to strip rather than take his dirty money. Mysti, also known as Erin Caelan, was the illegitimate daughter of Robert Caelan and a prostitute named Lola. Robert was for all intents and purposes a business man, of sorts. The kind of business where you piss him off, you end up wearing cement shoes in the Tirade River. So it was only natural that Mysti would end up with the Scarlet Arms. As Malachi, the head of the Arms, had once noted, killing was in her blood as much as fucking was.
The Scarlet Arms was a brothel for the rich and wanna be rich of the city. Underneath that front was a hidden organization of assassins. The girls would kill their own grandmothers for enough money. Erin was pretty sure if her father knew that, then he’d feel different about her chosen profession. As far as her family and friends knew she worked for the Scarlet Kitty, a strip joint, which was also owned by the Arms.
From behind the door came a muffled greeting-- “Come in.”
Erin entered the office; it was one of the larger ones with a nice view of the river. Not that Erin wanted to see the city’s dumping pot on a daily basis, but it could be pretty at times. Almost everything in the office was wood. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with some of the rarest and most exotic books in the city. Malachi’s vice was books; he collected almost everything he could get his hands on, the older and mustier the better. Few of the girls knew that, or cared, as long as they got their check every week. Erin, on the other hand, made it a point to learn everything about the man she worked for. Call it being careful. Call it being paranoid. Call it being the daughter of a mobster. Call it whatever the hell you wanted, but she wasn’t going to end up at the bottom of the previously mentioned river because she chose the wrong Joe Shmoe to work for.
The chair in front of Malachi’s desk was a black leather number, and worn smooth from years of use. The person sitting in that chair caused Erin to stop dead in her tracks. Well she’d be damned. Bobby ‘the Pit Bull’ Caelan, her own darling daddy, smiled at her as she stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. Since when did the Arms do business with the mob?
Finding her voice, she muttered, “So you’re just letting any one into the Arms now huh, Mal?”
Bobby looked at Malachi. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

Buy Link- http://www.darkroastpress.com/scarlet.php

Thank you!

--
Jade Twilight
Come fondle my pages!
http://jadetwilight.webs.com

Featured and Reviewed

Scarlet Myst has been reviewed and featured on Dark Diva Reviews.
You can find Deb's review here:

http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2009/12/scarlet-myst-by-jade-twilight.html

And the Feature Friday here:

http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2010/01/feature-friday-jade-twilight.html
Comment and possibly win a copy.

It's Out!!!! Get Scarlet Myst Now!

Erin Calean, Aka Myst, works for the Scarlet Arm. A brothel for the wealthy and those pretending to be wealthy. But things aren't always what they seem, the girls at the Scarlet Arms are trained killers. Beautiful and deadly.

Buy Now!

Spotlight Jesse Fox

Jesse Fox was born in a town with a population of 400 at the edge of the Ozark Mountains in Missouri, she grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Dreams of being a comic artist consumed her every thought from the time she was twelve until she graduated from high school. Unable to attend college for financial reasons she moved to St. Louis at eighteen where she’s held a number of jobs over the past 22 years including sales associate and design student at a floral studio, operations administrator of a ceramic tile company, and a number of positions in food service including baker, grill cook, and 2nd assistant cook. Presently she is managing rental property, honing her writing skills, and dreaming of a long-lived career as a writer.
Keep up with Jesse at her Live Journal, her Myspace or her website

Blurb-

History repeats itself in the small Mississippi River town of Bauman Creek when two star-crossed lovers met their end during one of the darkest times in the history of the United States. Over a century later, six academics arrive at the site of their demise, Evans House, a haunted place, to oversee an inheritance passed to the State of Illinois by the last of the Evans family. Three of those people, Tristan Pryce, Catherine Mullin, and Jake Bauman will come face to face with the secrets of this place in a way they never imagined. Secrets can never be buried deep enough though and amidst its dark halls, the shadows seem to whisper.

Marcus Havers, a seasoned homicide investigator with the Illinois State Police, finds himself also drawn into the shadows. Called in to investigate the violence unleashed within its walls, he discovers that science cannot always explain everything and gradually, these strangers are pulled deeper into a nightmare, one that some may not escape.

Amidst the darkness, the attraction between Tristan and Jake grows, one that may save or destroy both of them. Together they must face the darkness, survive a nightmare unleashed, and discover what lies hidden in the shadows if they are to survive.

They know you are here and they will not rest. Not until they receive what they desire. Be afraid of the shadows…

Excerpt-

“Please, Tristan, just listen.”

“No! I don’t know what kind of sick shit you’re into, Jake, but I want no part of it,” He turned on him, face flushed with anger as Jake reached out to grab his hands.

“Please,” he pleaded softly, “don’t leave me.” He dropped Tristan’s hands as if they scalded his flesh, a lost look in his usually astute emerald eyes. A ragged breath escaped Jake’s full lips as he lifted one hand, his cool fingertips brushing against the razor-sharp angle of Tristan’s jaw.

Suddenly he was close—too damn close.

The scent of his warm skin surrounded Tristan. Lilies, he thought, or maybe wild roses. As Jake’s lips drew close to his, breath warm and soft against his face, a faint stir of lavender in the dusty air. Yes, lavender was the scent.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave.” His words were softer now, more feminine than masculine.

Heat moved through Tristan’s body, heat, and desire so intense he was scared to death. As their lips touched, he caught Jake’s gaze, beautiful sapphire eyes fringed with red-gold lashes.

Sapphire eyes, he thought, but Jake's eyes are green.

Jerking back, he tripped over a box, landing on the floor in a cloud of dust. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, heels digging into the floor as he scrambled back through the dust and grime, eyes wild.>/p>

“So soon you have forgotten, my love? Soon we shall be together again.” Jake’s eyes, now green once more, fluttered and then he collapsed backward onto the floor.

Tristan sat staring at his limp body, his own body shaking with adrenaline and the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Head braced against his knees, the fear found a voice finally, a choked sound pushed up from his lungs.

What in the hell had just happened? Am I losing my mind? He wondered. Spine pressed against a stack of boxes, he sat and waited.

With a soft groan, Jake sat up, his tongue darting out to moisten his parched lips. The taste of blood lingered at the back of his throat. The remains of biting pain pulsed through the interior of his skull as he struggled to sit up and tried to remember what had happened.

Why was he lying on the attic floor?

Blurb-

A successful young artist, Ryan Esson lost everything in the blink of an eye, including his ability to create. Courtesy of an anonymous benefactor, he’s given an opportunity to reclaim something he thought lost forever when he receives a mysterious invitation to a weekend artist's retreat at a pre-Civil War sugar plantation.

Built on a secluded string of islands off the Gulf Coast of Louisiana, Le Jardin de la Lumière is a place of intrigue, a haunting legend, and one beautiful stranger, who will mesmerize Ryan. In a stranger’s eyes, will he find the strength to open his mind and his heart again?

Excerpt-

Ryan swallowed hard, trying not to let on that a second before he’d been staring at the tightly muscled curve of Eric’s ass beneath his slacks. “Yeah, I guess so.” He nervously shifted his own duffle on his shoulder and stepped past Eric, eyes focused ahead deliberately on the sleek lines of the yacht. “So why do you suppose we were invited?” He could sense Eric at his side, standing far too close for comfort.

“Who knows?” Shrugging, Eric stepped in front of him gracefully, walking backwards as he studied Ryan with an amused expression.

To be honest Ryan didn’t much care for the familiarity with which Eric looked at him, especially considering he’d never seen Eric before in his life until five minutes ago. It stank of some uppity rich boy gigolo trying to scope out his prey. Ryan had seen more than his fair share when he’d attended parties, showings, and gallery openings all over the country, and it had never seemed to matter to any of them that he was on Michael’s arm. So many of them had assumed Michael was wealthy and he was nothing but eye candy for the sake of appearances.

He sniffed in disgust. “There has to be a reason.”

“Why?” Eric questioned as he spun and stepped up on the gangplank. “Can we just say it is what it is? Enjoy whatever pleasures we might discover here?”

Ryan hesitated for a moment; then the memory of that empty loft reared up, blinding him to any doubts, he might have about his present mind set. “No,” he shook his head, “we can’t.”

A soft hum escaped Eric’s pursed lips, “And why not, Mr. Esson?”

“Because,” Ryan met those wide azure eyes, “nothing is ever what it appears to be.”

“True, but then where is the adventure in that?”

Ryan dropped his duffel to the polished deck and leaned into the railing as the crew released the moorings, the boat slipping away from the dock and out across the twilight waters. “Some of us have had enough adventure in our lives.” He huffed out a breath, staring down into the dark water as the yacht sliced through it silently. “We don’t need any more.”

“Oh, but adventure is what brings us hope, desire, even beauty and faith. Adventure is what life is about. Don’t you believe that as well?” Eric chuckled, but there was a sadness concealed somewhere in the sound of his laugh.

Lifting his gaze from the water, he studied Eric for a moment. “No, I don’t.” He paused then admitted, “I did once, but not now—never again.”

Spotlight Christopher Newman

Chris Newman lives in northeast Ohio with his soul-mate Diane, two sons (Anthony and Brendan), and has five grandchildren (Sebastian, Miguel, Duncan, Keegan, and Nathan). The residence is home to their pet cat Murphy (who is always under foot). Much to Murphy’s dismay Michaeledes the rat peers down from his cage (if only he had a ladder). Michaeledes teases him as Chris writes nearby. Chris is the published author of The Truth About Vampires, and its sequel Rites of the Vampire Cult, as well as “Ghost Lover & Other Erotic Fantasies” an anthology of erotic/horror.

A life-long fan of Robert E. Howard, Richard Matheson, and Stephen King the bookshelves at the Newman residence run the gambit from erotica to horror to spirituality to humor. In fact, Chris hopes one day to inherit a library (or a castle with a library, that’d be nice!). Surrounding his eclectic library is his collection of medieval weaponry, helms, and shields. Woe be to the foolish mortal who tries to invade the Newman home.

You can find out more about Chris at his website.

Blurb-

The women of the Albrecht family are cursed! For nearly three hundred years the hex uttered by a witch being burnt at the stake has stalked them down the centuries. Priests, herbal women, and even Inquisitors have been brought in to stop it from driving the Albrecht daughters to sexual-induced madness on their twentieth birthday. Nothing has worked; not even an uprooting from their native Germany to America has stopped it. Soon it just became an unfortunate fact of life if you are a female Albrecht.

It is present-day and Baron Markus Albrecht nervously awaits his daughter Elsa’s twentieth birthday. For a year he has searched for someone willing and able to halt the hex from driving his daughter as insanely mad as his sister, Franziska. Four days before her birthday he finds Noah Ravenswood, a practicing wizard and learned occultist. Noah, armed with hereditary mystical training by his mother, and Doctor Sarah Bookings his associate, he travels to southern Ohio to do battle with the Albrecht Curse.

But who or what is Noah really fighting? Is it truly a hex or perhaps a power-play by one of the Albrecht sons? Could it be the angry and distrustful Maximilan Albrecht, the eldest son and inheritor of the vast Albrecht Estates? Could it be the playboy Hans Albrecht, trying to dethrone his older brother and wrest control for himself? Can Noah and Sarah unravel the mystery before they become embroiled in the family politics, carnal activities, and deadly games at Albrecht Manor?

Blurb-

William Paterno is dead.

“Mama” Fonti, his maternal grandmother doesn’t buy the coroner’s verdict of a massive coronary. The Italian matron suspects her grandson’s last girlfriend of arcane foul play.

Despite William’s aunt Rosa O’Leary’s protests, she has a friend search the Internet for a reputable occultist. She finds Noah Ravenswood and his associate Dr. Sarah Bookings, occult investigators-for-hire. Trained since birth to battle the fiends of the dark, Noah accepts the task to uncover the truth for Mama.

Why is Carrie Welsh, WXPL’s morning weathergirl seeming to be benefit from the attacks? Is she an innocent bystander, or is she in control of the very thing that is wreaking vengeance against the men who wrong her? Suddenly Carrie is attacked by something fiendish, as other supernatural beings enter the picture.

These infernals, which have no relationship to the death of William Paterno, further muddle Noah and Sarah’s inquiry.

Then there is Rosa, who begins to take an emotional interest in the bald wizard. Her fiery Italian temperament, outspoken opinion, and pointed observations of Noah’s life provide an unwelcome distraction. Can they stop the attacks and discover who’s to blame before more of Niles’ citizens fall under the deadly gaze of the Hound of Doom?

Blurb-

In part 3 of the Ravenswood series, George Dabrowski has a problem, a very terrifying one.

One Texas night he picks up a woman on his Harley on his drive east. That morning she is violently murdered in front of his eyes by a terrible, vengeful spirit.

The bloodthirsty ghost tells him he and his former Marine compatriots are to pay for causing her death in Grenada back in 1983. Running for his life, George gathers together his old squad mates, including one Noah Ravenswood, practicing wizard and occultist. But when the specter traps them in Noah’s shop, he and his associate, Dr. Sarah Booking, have only hours to uncover the truth. What is behind the wraith’s attacks and is one of his old comrades a serial killer and rapist?

Can they solve the mystery before the killer strikes again?

Spotlight Tyree Kimber

Tyree Kimber was born in California, grew up in central Kansas, and currently live in Kansas City. Tyree has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Theater from Kansas State University.

"I have always been artistic and possessed of a passion for storytelling. Over the last ten years my interests have shifted increasingly from the performance side of storytelling and into the writing side. Love and sexuality have always fascinated me, as have the fantastical realms of the imagination. Realizing that perhaps these two areas may be two halves of the same whole, I made the decision a few years ago to enter the genre of erotica fantasy. APOCALYPSE WOMAN is the result of that initial foray and I have not looked back since."

You can find Tyree on Live Journal or Myspace.

Blurb

Selkines Ondine, a minor noblewoman without the means to fulfill her hunger for knowledge and power, faces a lonely life in service to the Aratriconian Church.

To avoid this fate she makes a pact with Abryax, a fallen angel who defied the god Aratricon at the dawn of time.

In exchange for bearing the demon's child she will receive on wish for anything her heart desires.

Selkines plans to use this wish to gain the wealth and power that society denies her. But the archbishop of the Church has a secret agenda: an interest in Selkines that goes far beyond the religious. And the servants of Heaven will do anything to keep a soul they have set their sights on from Hell's grasp.

Meanwhile Selkines's long suffering admirer, the poet Erasmus sets out to win her hand as well, unaware that his competition is a creature of ancient and terrible power.

Abryax's motto is that Hell gives us exactly what we want. But Selkines learns that what we want may come in a form we never expected or desire. Heaven and Hell ultimately gather for a showdown with Selkines's body as the battlefield, but Selkines is shocked at the depth of her own capacity to love when Erasmus selflessly enters the conflict for her sake as well.

Excerpt-

In that hidden vale, with the moon dark and her sins unseen, Selkines began to dance, or, perhaps it should be said, to writhe for her patron's pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, a chaotic series of movements, the best of which were utterly obscene. Yet Selkines continued for what seemed like hours, continued until sweat coated every inch of her painted body and her lithe muscles ached. All the while, she prayed, raggedly chanting dark words until her lungs burned and it seemed the voice was not her own. And then, after it seemed an eternity had passed, with a gesture as vile as it was climatic, the dark dance ended.

Selkines fell to her knees in the dirt, flanks heaving, body glistening, and all silent save for the crackling of the fire. She was utterly exhausted and yet terribly aroused. In truth, the level of sexual hunger she felt was unprecedented, almost painful. Alone with no one to see and no one to stop her, it took all of the willpower she had not to send one hand seeking a pert breast, the other the damp cleft between her thighs, and begin a frenzied effort to release this alien tension playing havoc upon her body and soul. But no, at all costs, she must wait. Still, no sounds came to her except the licking of the flames. But the ritual had to have worked. He had to have heard her entreaty. He must come!

Nothing. Silence. Selkines' heart grew heavy and her loins, ever more impatient. All in vain, then. Her cry had gone unheard. Now, truly, she was alone. And then the fire changed.

First, the bright, blinding white of burning magnesium, then the livid green of burning copper, then, the yellow of a sulphurous cloud. The flames changed, and changed again. And then he was among them. Instantly averting her eyes, Selkines caught only the barest glimpse, but Abryax burned in her memory like the fires of his eyes which sifted in patterns identical to those of the bonfire consecrated to him. Much taller than a man, the demon stood, its limbs and body clothed in a living blackness which seemed to devour all light that touched it. Its masculine face was handsome beyond measure, even in spite of its bone-white skin, small horns, and the bottomless flaming sockets of its eyes. Its - no, his- beauty in all its unholiness was frightening to behold. The hunger in Selkines' loins silently cried out to him and her body trembled.

Abryax emerged from the shifting fire and was immediately before her. Selkines did not dare raise her eyes. What had she done? What would the fallen one demand of her?

An elegant, clawed hand extended languidly toward her and took her by the chin, forcing her to meet the bottomless, beautiful hell of her demon's eyes. Those endless, colorful fires pulled her in, entrapping her in an enchantment of lust. It seemed the price would be exactly as she'd expected. Very well. The lust in her body, already unbearable, now redoubled tenfold at the demon's command. Almost of their own volition, Selkines' hands now moved to her most sacred regions and a blasphemous dance of a new kind now began.

Spotlight JC Natal

J.C. Natál has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pen. She wrote my first full length novel at 14 and there was a devout Pentecostal phase which produced some of the worst poetry (according to her) the world has ever seen. There have been short and novel length stories with a lot of dribble but a few gems emerged over time.

J.C. continued to work at honing her craft with various original projects then discovered the world of written erotica and the universe as she knew it changed. Even more so when she discovered that other people were turned on by the same things she was. And that, in turn brought her to Dark Roast Press.

With several interests, J.C. considers herself a sci-fi geek, loves to read, and falls in love with one or two television shows at a time. She has a huge crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan, loves music in all genres (except maybe hip hop/rap...which she tolerates) and of course, COFFEE.

Learn more about J.C at her Live Journal.


Books:

Rysykk's Rise

Blurb

Alarin is a skid living in the dark and dangerous underside of Washington-America, where the sun can no longer be seen through the buildings and streets of the upper levels. He’s a pickpocket and a thief, and sometimes a whore when he’s hungry enough, until the night he picks the wrong pocket and falls victim to a vicious beating.

A mysterious benefactor whisks Alarin away from the mean streets and offers him a life of luxury, ninety floors in the sky…but who exactly is Maleus Bryant and why does he want Alarin when he could have his choice of companion? What is it he knows that Alarin doesn’t?

Adding to Alarin’s discomfort is the image in his mind of a killer with blood on his face, a Rysykk, rising out of the black of night and the legends of old to fill Alarin with fear. Could Maleus be a Rysykk, hiding in plain sight?

Even if he is, can Alarin turn his back on shelter and food and a life he’d never dreamed of, or will he stay, knowingly a Rysykk’s private whore?

Excerpt

By the time he was deemed well enough to get out of the bed, Alarin wanted nothing more than to get out of the pampered prison he’d found himself in. He’d eaten more food in the weeks he’d been awake than he had in his whole seventeen years. He would thank his host for the rescue and generosity, and find out what was required in return. Then get out as soon as he was able, beat it back to his own level. Back to the dark and grunge of bottomside.

“How long have I been here, Rose?” Alarin asked as he dropped sweating and breathless onto the bed after only a short walk, leaning heavily on the cane she’d brought.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “Do you have somewhere better to be?”

He laughed and lifted his splinted leg up onto the bed while she poured him some water and set his little cup of pills beside the bed. “Yeah; ‘cause my flop hole and trash bed’s so much better ... and I gots stuff what needs doing.” He snorted and tossed the pills back, slamming down the water. He figured he should get as much of the good stuff as he could while he was there. Soon enough he’d be back down in the gutter.

“It will be a month tomorrow,” Rose said finally.

Alarin shook his head. “Long time.”

“Mr. Bryant will be home from his trip in a few days. By then we should have your strength up. He’ll want to see you. He’s been pleased with your progress.”

That made Alarin more nervous than he wanted to admit. He had nothing to offer this man. He couldn’t imagine what a man like Maleus Bryant could possibly want with a gutter-born bottom feeder like him. Well, he could imagine, but none of the things that came to him were pleasant.

A week later Alarin was given clothing – simple, but new, and better than anything he’d ever worn. He was led out of his room, into a bright, white hallway and over to an elevator that took them up ten floors. A whole level. As the doors opened, the servant escorting him gestured into the room. "Mr. Bryant is waiting for you, sir."

Alarin actually snorted at that. He'd never been called a "sir" before. He limped his way into the room, which was a stark contrast to everything he'd seen before. The walls were lined in rich wood paneling, dark and well polished. The back wall was filled, floor to ceiling, with books. The carpeting was nearly ankle thick as he stepped hesitantly onto it. A few steps further into the room, and he eyed the lush furniture-- black leather. It was more than a few moments before his eyes adjusted enough to see the eyes regarding him with cool amusement from the depths of one of the chairs.

"Forgive the lack of light. I'm afraid my eyes are sensitive." The voice was slightly accented, gentle, compelling.

"No problem. I come from the dark levels." Alarin responded reflexively, and he sensed, rather than saw, the smile.

"I recall. I trust you are feeling better?”

"Yeah ... you know ... thank you. I can’t pay you for this."

The shadows seemed to shift as Maleus moved forward in his chair. "There is nothing to repay. It was my pleasure."

In Service

Blurb

In a modern world where rampant disease and prostitution has been dealt with through institutionalizing the sex business, and where American nobility, Lords and Ladies, hold significant power, Lord Elias Doherty is a man who has always had everything he ever wanted. Spoiled and arrogant, Elias thinks only of his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday and his only desired gift, a Servant of his very own.

When he spots Jared Karan, he knows exactly what he wants, but Jared is owned by another, a powerful British Lord with a reputation as a ruthless and unforgiving man, in business and in personal matters.

Elias gets what he wants through his father’s political and business maneuvering, and Jared is his. But Lord Stuart isn’t content with his defeat, and he uses his own power and influence to give Elias a gift, one that on the surface seems legitimate, but hides a very dark secret.

With a powerful enemy and a political climate that is more than a little volatile, falling in love with Jared could lead them both to destruction.



Excerpt

Elias realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. It was a beautiful thing to watch, the fingers disappearing into him and moving about slowly, opening him up. According to the paperwork, he’d never had anything near the size of an actual cock inside him. Fingers, dildos for training, but all small, all designed to leave him essentially a virgin for his Lord.

It made him sweat to think about it, that no one else had touched him the way he was about to. Jared finished and stood up, turning to Elias. “How do you want me, my Lord?” His eyes were downcast, his voice breathy.

Elias crossed to him, letting his fingers dance over the bare skin, over nipples and abdominal muscles, over hips, around to the rounded mounds of his ass. He slipped a finger inside him and closed his eyes, savoring the heat. “Undress me,” Elias said.

Jared hesitated only briefly, then his hands rose up between them, unbuttoning Elias’ shirt. His hands skimmed over Elias’ skin, up, under the shirt, over his shoulders, slipping the fabric from him as he circled around Elias.

Lips, soft and damp, moved over his back as the shirt fell into Jared’s hands. Kisses and tender touches made Elias close his eyes and relax. He never saw where the shirt landed, but he felt Jared’s hands, over his lower back, around his waist…his fingers at the button of his jeans.

It was so quiet in the room Elias could hear the denim slide through Jared’s hands as he opened the fly and guided the pants down. As they reached his ankles, Jared circled back around so that he was in front of Elias, on his knees, staring at the erect cock he’d released.

Jared steadied Elias with a hand on his hip and wordlessly encouraged him to step free of the clothing. Elias’ cock bobbed in front of him and after he’d pushed the jeans away, he looked up at Elias, eyes wide.

“May I, my Lord?”

It took Elias a moment to realize what it was he was asking. “Yeah…yeah…do it.”
Jared’s mouth opened and then his lips closed around the end of Elias’ cock, just the tip. He sucked in, his tongue sliding just under the head, then tracing it. He pulled back, kissing the end, before his tongue lapped over it, then under it, down the length and back. Elias hissed and barely managed to keep from thrusting in hard and fast when Jared swallowed him whole.

Spotlight Jamie Lynn Miller

Jamie Lynn Miller has been writing male/male fanfiction stories for nearly fifteen years and decided to take the plunge and go pro in 2008. She’s a romantic at heart, and her stories reflect the desire we all have to find “the one”, persevering through trials and heartache for that happy ending.

Jamie has a degree in Fine Arts and has spent the last thirteen years working as a Graphic Designer. She was born in Chicago and still lives there today, with her husband and their furry, four-footed “children”.

Besides writing, Jamie enjoys traveling, softball, reading, science fiction, hanging out with friends, and just being creative.

She is eternally thankful for all of the love and support her husband has given her over the years with her writing and other endeavors.

If you’d like to contact Jamie Lynn, her email address is: jamielynnmiller@live.com or friend her Live Journal.


Books:

Burnin' For You

Blurb

Lucas Taylor is a hard-working New York City fireman at Station 127, dedicated to his job, even though it has brought him heartrending tragedy - the loss of his lover, Ryan, in an explosion a year ago.

Evan Singer is the new guy in town, a paramedic transferred into Station 127 from San Antonio, and he sets his eyes on Lucas from the get-go.
Neither knowing who the other is, their first meeting is explosive, a night of passion and desire that awakens something inside Lucas he never thought he’d feel again.

But when Lucas discovers that Evan is a paramedic, it all comes crashing down. For despite the feelings he has for Evan, Lucas has vowed to never again get involved with someone on the job, after losing Ryan to it.

Can Evan convince Lucas to open up his heart and take a chance on love again, despite who Evan is?


Excerpt

Later the next night, Lucas was still nursing sore knuckles as he sat in his living room, beer in hand, watching the rain fall outside, thinking about everything and nothing, wishing it was more of the latter.

A knock at his door roused him from his musings and he set his beer aside, rising to answer it – and was startled to see Evan standing on the other side when he opened it.

“How did you know – ?”

“Tom told me where you lived. Can I come in?”

Lucas blew out a breath, hesitating, before reluctantly letting Evan inside.

“What do you want, Evan?” Lucas asked wearily, shutting the door.

Evan turned toward him, looking unsure, running a hand through his rain damp hair. “Who’s Ryan?” he finally asked, quietly. “Tom said I needed to ask you about him. That it would explain things.”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Lucas could only stare at Evan for a long moment. An internal decision made, that it was time Evan did know, so he’d stop pursuing him, Lucas walked past Evan and picked up a photograph from the end table.

He stared at Ryan’s smiling face for a long time before walking over to the window, looking out at the rain, his back to Evan.

“Ryan and I – we loved each other,” Lucas started, still not looking at Evan, voice low. “We were together for almost three years. He worked at the station, on the engine with me. Things were great, they were perfect. He moved in with me here six months before – before it happened.” Lucas paused, taking a deep breath.

“We got a call for a warehouse fire this time last year,” Lucas continued. “Three alarm, close by the station; we were the first company there. Ryan and I were each on an inch and a half hose, Ryan in the lead. We were pretty deep inside the building when my air tank alarm went off. Someone had screwed up that afternoon and hadn’t checked them. The other companies hadn’t gotten there yet and I didn’t want to leave Ryan alone.” Again Lucas paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat and felt the first, silent tear slip free.

“But Ryan was yelling at me, that I wouldn’t be any good if I couldn’t breathe and to get out,” Lucas went on, his voice breaking. “I had just cleared the doors when the explosion tore the building apart. I felt the heat on my back before I was lifted up off my feet and thrown 20 feet. I tried to get back in the building, but the guys held me back.” Lucas’s throat worked convulsively. “Ryan was gone and there was nothing I could do,” he finished, pain and loss coloring every word.

He turned now to face Evan, not bothering to wipe away his tear tracks. “I can’t put myself through that again, Evan. What we do, it’s too fucking dangerous. I learned that the hard way, and I will NEVER go through that again. Losing Ryan, it damn near killed me. So please, just let this go,” he pleaded. “I won’t let myself fall for you. I can’t.”

“Lucas – " Evan took a step forward, his own eyes bright with moisture.

Lucas shook his head. “No. Please, Evan, just go. Please.”

The only sound in the apartment was the rain hitting the window as the two men regarded each other silently, hurt and pain radiating off of one, sympathy and compassion from the other, until Evan turned and wordlessly left Lucas alone in his apartment, holding Ryan’s photo to his chest.



Darkness Falls

Blurb

Matthew Tucker is a successful actor on a hit television show, his career on the rise. Life is good. What more could he want?

Daniel Westman, that’s what – his co-star and close friend for the last two years.
Matthew desires more than friendship with Daniel, though, his attraction for the other man growing day by day. So much so that Matthew gives up the safety and security of his current long-term relationship for the slimmest chance of a relationship with Daniel, feeling there’s something between them, just under the surface. And he was gambling his happiness on it.

But months go by, with Matthew suddenly afraid to go forward, to make the first move, to tell Daniel he was falling in love with him. Because if he was wrong, and Daniel was just being his natural charming self and Matthew was looking too deeply into it…he’d lose his best friend.

So instead Matthew longs for his friend in silence, until an accident on set may leave Daniel permanently blinded. With his friend hurt, scared and confused, his life possibly forever altered, Matthew never wavers from Daniel’s side, no matter how difficult it gets.

His dedication brings them closer than ever before, but is it possible to find happiness, and love, in the wake of a tragedy? Or has Matthew’s hesitation cost him that chance and he’ll lose Daniel to the darkness instead?

Excerpt

Matthew reached out and took his friend by his wrist, pulling him closer, guiding him to stand between Matthew’s widespread legs.

Matthew took a second, and a breath, as his heart jumped a bit, having Daniel so close, naked from the waist up. He closed his legs, until they were just barely brushing Daniel’s, and he felt as if that drew Daniel even closer to him. Matthew swallowed, reluctant to release Daniel’s wrist, the skin of it so warm under his fingers.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Daniel’s quiet question broke Matthew out of the moment and he blinked, letting go of his friend’s arm.

“Umm, yeah, sorry,” Matthew stammered, and he turned his upper body toward the sink on his right, twisting on the taps. He adjusted the temperature just this side of too hot and soaked the washcloth, before handing it to Daniel.

Daniel wet down his face and neck with the cloth as Matthew first pulled up the stopper in the sink, then flipped open the cap on the shaving cream.

Face thoroughly damp, Daniel handed the washcloth back to Matthew, who laid it next to him on the counter, then turned off the taps on the sink. He squirted a small amount of shaving cream onto the fingers of his right hand, set the can down and rubbed the cream onto his left hand as well.

Reaching out, he slowly smoothed the cream onto Daniel’s face – under his cheekbones, above his upper lip, across and back on the sides of his face, over and under his chin, then a short way down his neck. He felt Daniel release a small sigh and saw his shoulders relax.

The water running in the bathtub was the only sound in the room as Matthew picked up the razor and began carefully shaving his friend. A slow swipe down, a rinse in the sink…repeat…repeat…repeat. It was sensual, almost hypnotic, as more and more of Daniel’s skin was revealed with each pass of the razor.

Matthew felt Daniel’s hand touch his leg, slide up, until his palm was resting high up on his thigh. Matthew breathed in at the touch, breathed in the warm steam enveloping them, felt his legs close a fraction more.

One last pass with the razor and Matthew was finished, Daniel’s skin pink and smooth once more. Eyes never leaving Daniel’s face, Matthew set the razor down on the counter. There was a spot of shaving cream on Daniel’s left cheekbone and Matthew reached up, palm resting against the side of his friend’s face, fingers curling around behind Daniel’s ear, his thumb sliding over Daniel’s cheek, clearing the shaving cream away.

Time seemed to freeze, catching the two men in the moment as Matthew felt his chest tighten, his heart pound, and he couldn’t breathe, felt lightheaded.

And this.

This feeling.

This is why he left his three-year relationship with his boyfriend Colin nearly four months ago. When he no longer got this feeling being around him, but around his best friend instead.

When he realized he was falling in love with Daniel.

His thumb caressed Daniel’s cheek again and Matthew desperately wished that he could see Daniel’s eyes, to see what he was feeling. God, was he alone in this madness? He needed to know…

Matthew felt Daniel sway towards him, his waist pressing against Matthew’s groin, his fingers flexing on Matthew’s thigh, and Matthew’s throat went dry.

Daniel’s voice was barely a whisper. “Matt?”

Spotlight Angelia Sparrow

Angelia Sparrow is a middle aged truck-driver, living quietly in the Mid-South with her husband, four kids and two cats. She's written numerous short stories and a few novels, both alone and with Naomi Brooks. In her spare time she crochets and reads porn in waiting rooms. She's still waiting to grow up to be Han Solo.
You can find Angelia on her personal website, her Yahoo group or Myspace.


Blurb

Nikolai is a kinky gay Pygmalion set in a Dark Future America. James Ligatos is a man with an unusual hobby. He turns promising young criminals into world leaders. His latest project is Nicholas Boyd, formerly Nikolai of the Revenant street gang. But the little killer-turned-file-clerk is much more than Ligatos and his staff bargained for.
As Kentucky attempts to secede from the Confederated States of America and rejoin the United States, Nick's skills and the group's training are put to the ultimate test, and the price of failure is death

Excerpt

The street-preacher on the corner of Highland was harder to ignore than the newscreens. He towered over the passerby, black and frightful-looking, his hair a wild mass of dreadlocks, his filthy robe tattered with wear. He proclaimed the end of the world in his great deep voice that carried for blocks.

“Even now,” he intoned, “events rush to their conclusion. The demon that squats atop the world has called his Nikolai to him.” Nick startled a moment at the sound of his taken name and then saw an ancient battered copy of Nicolae: The Rise of the Anti-Christ in the preacher's hand. It was nothing, just weird coincidence. He had taken the name from the book, though, and something made him uneasy. Nothing had gone quite right on this heist.

He continued to the shop.

Nick opened the door of the pawnshop into must and dust and the smell of desperation. Old contraband computers, old televisions, prohibited fiction books, cheap jewelry all piled together with someone’s wheelchair and old forbidden movies in formats no one made players for any more. It didn’t look promising, and the feeling that something was going wrong only grew stronger.

He looked at the old woman behind the counter, taking in her short gray hair and overly applied make-up that enhanced her age rather than hid it. He decided she was probably old enough to be exempt from the appearance laws that prohibited cosmetics. He pretended to browse for a while. “I’m looking for Mr. Ligatos,” he finally said when he’d worked his way around to her.

She smiled and nodded. “Iakobos,” she called into the back of the shop, and followed it with a string of words in which Nick only caught about every fourth. An old man beckoned him into the back room. The filthy windows turned the light as yellow and nicotine-stained as the old man’s fingers. The heat of the room pressed in. The smell of insects and rodents, mold and dust made Nick want to sneeze. He was sure he saw something move in the half-draped, flyspecked mirror across from him.

“Sit. You have, for me, an item of value?” His command of English was better than the old woman’s. Nick smelled alcohol, cheap, homemade and raw, barely cut with licorice, on the old man’s breath. Yes, this would be the perfect place to fence his take.

“Guaranteed one of a kind. You had a deal with Vlad of the Revenants. Vlad didn’t make it out of the heist but he told me where to come.” Nick drew out the candelabra and set it on the table.

The old man looked it over, slowly and carefully. From the corner of his eye, Nick thought he saw movement, but when he turned nothing was there except the stacks of clutter in the dim, filthy back room.

“Yes, yes. I have a buyer. One who is much interested in such an artifact.” He prodded the item a few times with a gnarled finger. “It is what you say it is, boy.”

“If you can buy it, can you buy these as well?” Nick took out the small carvings he’d stolen. “Real jade, real ivory.”

Old Ligatos looked over the little statues. “Young jade. Not worth so much. Ivory, that, that is worth a fortune. I give you three thousand for all.”

“And for the candlestick?”

A voice from behind him said, “For that you’re going straight to prison, boy.” The cold metal of a gun pressed into the hollow of his skull.


What the Dark Diva's had to say about this book...
"I give this book four delightful divas for the sheer audacity of the author in throwing all that variety in there without throwing me out of the story. Good work."

Spotlight Nera Ragno

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author of SHE Of The Forbidden Zone, Nera Ragno has loved science fiction movies since seeing ‘The Blob” and ‘The Thing”. Interestingly, Nera Ragno means ‘black spider’ in Italian and the beast within the Fahdian race is a black widow spider. The females tend to get fangy when maleness makes the scene. A male needs to possess exceptional attributes to mate with a High Priestess — any normal dude will just get fanged. Combining a fangy black widow with a cocky playboy in an erotic romp was fun.

The author's alter ego has written over a dozen screenplays, but this is the first venture into campy science fiction comedy. Additional novels are underway in the universe, with an interesting twist. Stay tuned to discover what it is.


Blurb:

SHE of the Forbidden Zone

In a universe controlled by women, the GRAND FAHD reigns supreme over her HIGH PRIESTESSES, whose bellies display the red hourglass of the black widow spider. Each High Priestess reigns over her clan for a specified period during which time they mate within a cycle to produce a child - for what woman can be the mother to her clan if she is not a mother to a child. Fahdian women can only conceive if they take a capsule of Essence, which simultaneously seduces their partner. Once they conceive, they can remain a High Priestess, but if they remain virgins or fail to conceive, they are removed from their obligations to the Sisterhood & another takes their place. Males are groomed as studs & bring a dowry. Only the most skilled & wise can evade the fangs of a High Priestess & live on as her beloved Consort - even then more protection is desirable.

SHE, the Grand Fahd’s right hand High Priestess, is a virgin at the end of her reigning cycle. She has promised her younger sister, VASHTI, the next mating choice, but the Grand Fahd forbids it, planning to mate her own son, cocky ARKOS, whose sperm only produces highly prized females, to She. But Arkos is injured & instead She will mate with JOX. Fortunately the mating goes awry. Cat burglar NIRVANA, hired by Vashti who can succeed She as High Priestess only if She remains barren, steals Jox’s dowry of diamonds. Vashti is secretly in league with other High Priestesses who need her deciding vote for war against the CONFEDERATION OF QUEENS. The Grand Fahd learns of the scheme & prefers subterfuge to confrontation, especially when Nirvana ultimately answers to the Grand Fahd. She’s passion turns to rage when Jox deflects her question about the dowry. Jox is fanged & dies. She looks forward to the next phase of her life: retirement as a High Priestess, able to explore the galaxy & no longer answer to the Grand Fahd, though she wonders about the missed sexual delights. The Grand Fahd has other plans & encourages the recovered Arkos to explore the Forbidden Zone, where he can choose to mate with a High Priestess, if pursued. Arkos is confident that he will not be fanged; he has his FATHER’S Anti-Essence & his father still lives!