Monday, December 30, 2013

Update: New Release Lord Byron's Secret Obsession- with corrected links!

Lord Byron Wilton, fearing exposure as a sodomite after a public argument with his secret lover Lord David Litchfield, leaves England for the Americas. On his return, he finds his delicious man in the hands of the brute, Hale and his cohorts.

Discovering Lord David is an unwilling sex slave for these three disgusting men, he makes outlandish and somewhat dangerous plans to outwit the trio. Byron must use every trick in the book, and a considerable amount of his fortune, in an effort to regain his lover’s freedom and trust
Buy links:

Spunk books :


London 1772

Lord Byron Wilton opened his pocketbook and paid the tailor's account,
grateful to be finally out of uniform. He met the gaze of Mr. Joseph Brown.
The man had produced every inch of clothing he had worn since a boy. "Have
everything else sent over to Spencer Street, there's a good man."
Donning the new hat he had purchased from Locks in Bond Street, Lord Byron
pulled on his gloves and turned to look in the mirror. The new, delightfully
comfortable, clothes fitted well. Soft and fresh against his skin the linen
provided a welcome change from his stagnant, uniform shirt and stiff smalls.
At last, after three despicable years, he resembled a gentleman again. The
new clothes, ordered by letter some three months previously, had surprised
him with their elegance. Mr. Brown had tailored each garment in the height
of fashion, right down to the fine lawn ruffles and silver buttons. White
silk stockings, and a cloak of the finest black wool lined in silk completed
his dress. He rubbed his chin and smiled ruefully at his reflection.
The breeches stretched tight about his thighs and bottom, and Mr. Brown had
pinched the jacket in at the waist to enhance the width of his shoulders.
The cravat sat in exquisite folds. Dressed as such, in blue velvet, with his
hair tied in a neat queue, men of his predilection would admire his
appearance. Christ, I look like a peacock. In truth, his body had changed
from soft, to hard and muscular-but a commission in the Americas did that to
a man. His face had altered too, but not in a bad way. He had not suffered
any serious injury during his time abroad, but the man with haunting eyes in
his reflection had replaced the exuberant expression of youth.
Although, relieved by the sale of his commission and consequent arrival in
England, his thoughts were not on returning immediately to his country
estate in Surrey. Rather, he had spent the last two days in his townhouse a
short distance from Hyde Park, not wanting to endure the immediate duties of
Lord of the Manor. His ailing father, the Marquis of Wilton, who lay near
death in Bordeaux, had thrust this responsibility legally upon him.
Lord Byron stepped from the shop and glanced down Oxford Street. Nothing of
note had changed in London during his three years abroad with exception of
women's fashion and the volume of carriages barreling along the dusty roads.
He drew a deep breath to enjoy the scents of normality after enduring an
eternity of stinking jacks and sweat. The smell of gunpowder and the
unforgettable stench of a military camp had combined with horrors a man
could never forget.
Christ, he'd had little choice but to remain abroad. His role as a lover of
unusual pleasures had become impossible after a very public argument with
David had threatened to expose them both. Indeed, wealth alone would give an
enemy cause to bear false witness on the most pious of men let alone a
jealous lover's remarks. He ground his teeth with the memory of the stunned
expressions of the fellows who witnessed the spat. Of course, he'd covered
the incident with good humor making the play that the young lord was in his
cups. He'd waved Lord David into a coach and returned to the card room.
Nevertheless, to avoid the scandalmongers and the chance of prosecution for
the act of sodomy, he made the heart wrenching decision to leave his lover.
He'd purchased a commission abroad and joined the 29th Regiment of Foot in
Boston, Massachusetts as Captain, under the command of British Lt. Colonel
William Dalrymple.
He grimaced at bloody images too raw in his memory. On5 March 1770, he'd had
the misfortune to witness the results of the Boston Massacre. During a riot
in front of His Majesties customs house, five colonists had died. The
subsequent arrest and trial of Preston and his men led to the immediate
withdrawal of British soldiers from Boston. The decision to move the 29th to
British controlled Florida had been somewhat of a relief. Arguments over
taxes and the constant clashes between the colonists and the British
soldiers would no doubt boil over into war.
Not wanting to appear cowardly, Byron had gone to Dalrymple and put forward
his request to return to England, stating family problems. This application,
due to the ill health of his father, met Dalrymple's approval. The wait to
find someone to take his place had been impalpable. Months had passed before
Byron received an offer for his commission. He'd accepted with a short
prayer of thanks, and returned to London on the first available ship. He
smiled into the sunshine. It would seem, for once in his life, good fortune
had shined down on him.
Byron stood for a few seconds to enjoy his surroundings. There had been a
meager amount of birds brave enough to negotiate the noisy camps and his
heart lifted to see an abundance of sparrows on the footpath, feasting on a
discarded crust of bread. Above, a blue sky peeked briefly through a
profusion of white fluffy clouds. A stream of sunlight bathed a rose bush,
sitting in a large, yellow glazed pot, beside the milliners next door. The
rich perfume from the red blooms mixed with the pungent odor of horse dung
squashed on the road; the hay infused clumps thrown in all directions by the
constant stream of carriage wheels. Everything is so normal as if no one
knows a war of great proportions is looming.
Moving toward the curb, Byron called out to his driver to take him to
Charters, a gentlemen's club in Vauxhall, and climbed into the carriage. He
sighed, rested his head on the back of the squabs, and closed his eyes. A
familiar memory flooded his consciousness. A soft gaze the color of a summer
sky, hooded with long tawny lashes and set in a countenance sated from hours
of glorious sex. David. The memory of the man he had loved above all else
had not faded. Christ, he heard David's voice in his dreams. The vivid
recollection of the way the young man had touched him, loved him had never
left his memory. Heat pooled in his loins curling into a deep longing for
the only man he craved. He yearned to see his lover once more and touch the
young man's tender skin. The thought of marking David's pale flesh with a
birch cane made him hard. He craved the taste of his succulent lips, and the
joy of sinking to his balls in David's tight arse. The sweet recollection of
his young lover's moans of delight had haunted him during the long nights
away from his love. He would wake to the scent of the man and the taste of
David upon his lips. Then face another day, lonely and mean spirited

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Redz World: Review: 5 Star- Reccomended Read- Take Me, Break Me by H.C. Brown

Buy Link
Author H.C. Brown does an amazing job of bringing heat, and a great story line to the bookTake Me, Break Me. I really couldn’t stop reading this book. 

Redz World: Review: Take Me, Break Me by H.C. Brown

Tuesday, December 17, 2013


H.C Brown’s bestselling Club Flogger’s Series continues with the introduction of Kall, an edge playing Dom/ songwriter and good friend of Reef, the lead singer of Cold Heat.
Joel persuades Seth, Cold Heat’s reluctant virgin drummer to spend an evening at Floggers with Kall. The meeting is more than explosive, the two men having lusted after each other for some time.
Life is sweet for Joel Moon, Reef and Rio’s sub. Unexpectedly he finds himself thrust into to the next level of discipline when he disobeys his Masters by speaking to another Dom.

Available in: Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi), Adobe Acrobat
Joel Moon’s attention riveted on the lead singer of Cold Heat. His lover moved across the stage like liquid silk each muscle rippling under satin flesh giving the audience every ounce of his sex appeal. His voice rose above the screams of the audience pure and strong. His Dom had written the song for him and every word slid over him like afterglow. He leaned back against Rio and smiled. The delicious man behind him traced the line of stitching on his jeans then cupped his buttocks possessively. The warmth of Rio’s breath brushed his cheek.

“I love you too.” Rio pulled him hard against his chest. “I wish I could write a tender love song to prove it.”

Joel leaned into him and raised his voice over the music. “It was lovely to have a song like ‘Trust’ written for me but you prove how much you love me every time you touch me. I love both of you no more or less than the other.”

“I am so fucking jealous of you guys.” Kall moved to his side. “Seeing what you have together it’s beautiful.”

Joel gasped at the grip of Rio’s arm around his waist. His Master’s touch reminded him the man beside him was a Dom and he belonged to Rio and Reef. He bit back a reply and returned his gaze to the stage. He’d insisted Rio drag the prolific and talented songwriter to the concert with one thought in mind. Cold Heat’s drummer Seth MacKay. From the stories, Reef had told him about the man, Kall had a hankering for beautiful pups and Seth was pick of the litter.

He’d become close friends with Seth and as the guy craved domination, his Masters considered him as a suitable friend. The shy drummer needed a push in the right direction to find a Dom to teach him the delights of the dungeon. Seth had trust issues and had remained within a very small group of friends for some time. Seth needed a man and it had taken all his powers of persuasion to convince his Masters to allow Kall into their inner sanctum. Rio’s grip around his waist changed to a dominant cupping of his groin. He moved his hips against his Dom’s caress in a blatant demand and moved his attention to the final verse of Cold Heat’s last encore. The primal beat of the music flowed up through the floorboards and rattled his teeth.

Friday, December 13, 2013

In The Hot Seat With H.C. Brown is Author B. Snow + Giveaway.

 Hello! I’m glad to be in the Hot Seat. It’s winter here. :D And may I say, it’s so strange to think this will be posted from Australia. It truly is a small world after all (and if that’s stuck in your head now, you’re welcome.)
Q:  Can you tell our readers a little about your writing? What genres do you enjoy writing?

A: Apparently I like a lot of different genres. I thought I had one story in me, a very long,  pirate historical which still isn’t finished. But the two short stories that I’ve had published are a contemporary and an historical (secondary characters from that pirate novel), and my first novella, which came out on November 29, is a Regency with a touch of paranormal. My current WIPS include contemporaries, one historical (the pirate novel), a contemporary with time travel, a YA, a fairytale-type story, and a collection of stories that include both contemporaries and a few stories set in the 1960s or thereabouts. I doubt I’ll ever write Science Fiction, because I have no scientific or computer knowledge, but I’ve learned not to say “I’ll never”.
Q:  Do you write on a schedule or when the Muse decides?
A. Muse? What muse? :P I do try to write every day, whether I feel like it or not. For awhile it was kind of a mania, writing at least 100 words a day, every day, but I’ve slacked off a bit, and will sometimes go a few days without any new words. That was mostly when I was editing the novella. Damon Suede wrote, “Momentum is hard won and easily lost....Writing crap is better than no writing at all.” He’s absolutely right. And sometimes you’ll be writing what you think is crap and then you’ll see how it works in the story. Or maybe it will have to be cut but it fits another story. I never just delete a section, I’ll always cut and paste it into a separate document.

Q: Can you tell us about your writing process, for example, do you write an outline first?
A: I don’t write a formal outline. Now that I read that, it would probably help….I’ve been trying to write linearly, but I think I need to go back to putting down scenes I see clearly first, even if they can change by the end of the story or be difficult to string together. I like to know where the story is going. I consider myself a plotter and not a pantser, though.
One of these days I’m going to do the thing where I write the synopsis first and the story second – that’s supposed to help you know what you need to include, plus then your synopsis is already done.
Q:  What qualities do you instill in your heroes?
A: Whew. Let’s see….I’m not sure any two of my heroes share the same qualities. Alec in “A Cunning Plan” is withdrawn and depressed, William, my pirate captain is a cheerful rogue, David, my drag queen is flamboyant onstage and mousy off of it. I suppose one thing they all have in common is that they’re decent. Kind. Protective. They’re not always the most confident of men, unless they’re faced with the possibility of a loved one getting hurt. Then they’ll get right up in that. J I have to admit that Tom, my museum curator who travels back in time to Renaissance Italy, is a bit of a dick at the start of the story. But he gets better.

Q. Coffee or tea?
A: Coffee in the morning, the sometimes I progress (regress?) to black tea during the day and herbal tea at night. But what usually happens is I forget I was heating up the tea and I find it in the microwave the next morning.
Q. Beach or countryside?
A: Beach, definitely, even though I don’t sit out in the sun anymore.
Q. Do you write about the places you know or prefer to take your readers to exotic places?
A: I usually stick to places I’ve at least visited. The settings seem to choose themselves. The YA novel is set in a fictional small town in north Georgia, based on a real town that I’ve never been to. Ian, whose hot new housemate definitely isn’t gay, lives in the San Francisco Bay area, which is close to where I went to university. I have two stories that want to take place in New York city, which I’ve visited only twice, so that’s the biggest stretch for me. My story for the Goodreads M/M group’s “Love Has No Boundaries” event was set in Portland, where my sister lives. I don’t think I’d try to set a story anywhere I’ve never even visited, with the exception of that small town in GA. But I have been to other small towns in GA. Although I will say that google street view is an amazing tool for finding out what places look like. It’s almost creepy, like being a ghost, maybe, to walk through the streets of a city you aren’t in.
Q: Where do you get your inspiration?
A: The pirate story popped into my head from a funny image I got when I was waking up one morning. Sometimes a Call for Submissions will drop a plot bunny into my lap. The idea from the drag queen story came from the director’s commentary on one of the Donald Strachey mysteries—he said every movie should have a drag queen. I tried to think of how to add a drag queen to a story, and the drag queen ended up as the main character. J
Q: Would you change anything in your life to make writing easier.
A: I wish I could concentrate better. When I was younger, I’d read for hours. Now when I try to read or write for a big block of time, I feel compelled to check email, jump on facebook, play a game….I blame the internet. :P I’m hoping I can somehow re-train myself to concentrate.
HC, Me too. The problem is we have to be media savvy. We have to interact with our readers and this takes a lot of time. Posting blogs and promotion takes up more of my time than writing does. It’s something we all need to prioritize I think.
Q: We have all suffered submission rejections. How do you cope? Do you have any advice to other writers on coping with rejection?
A: I’m fairly new at writing, so I haven’t submitted that many stories. And I hope I don’t sound like a jerk or wind up with anyone hating me, but I’ve had only one rejection out of the four things I’ve submitted for publication. I don’t think my stuff is awesomely amazing or unique or well-written, I think I just sent it to the right publisher at the right time.
E-publishers are a gift to writers. You no longer have to write something that will go on a shelf of a mainstream bookstore and has to please everyone who walks into that store. You can write for niche markets, which, granted, will not make you as much money as mass-market, but because they’re e-books, someone across the globe who happens to like what you write can FIND what you write. And there are some pretty niche markets out there. My point is that it might be easier these days to find a publisher who wants your work.
As for rejection: I kind of think that everything I send out will be rejected, so I’m pleased and surprised when it isn’t. The one story of mine that was rejected, well, I expected it to be, so I wasn’t crushed when I got the news. If a story gets rejected, well, take a look at it with fresh eyes, make some changes, and send it out to someone else. That’s what I’m doing with that rejected story, because I think it’s too funny not to see the light somehow.
When you send out your work, the worst an editor or agent can say is “no”. (Actually, the worst thing they can say is that your story sucks and you should quit, which never happens because 1. editors and agents just don’t have the time to let you know why it was rejected, and 2. most editors and agents aren’t dicks. If you ever do get a rejection like that, count yourself lucky that you won’t be working with psychopaths. Plus, you’ll have an awesome story to tell one day when you’re a famous author, and you’ll get to bathe in schadenfreude when that publisher goes under, and they will, if that’s the way they treat people. :D)
I’ve heard that writers have to develop a thick skin. I don’t think I have one, but the rejection didn’t hurt that much – it’s a story about a magical bejewelled codpiece, not exactly normal fare – and less-than-stellar reviews and comments from contest judges don’t upset me that much, either. You can’t please all the people all the time, and some people are just not going to get what you’re trying to say. Of course, if NO one likes what you’re writing, or if NO one gets what you’re trying to say, then you might need another set of eyes on it to figure out why. But keep in mind that “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” was rejected multiple times, and Sherrilyn Kenyon was told at the start of her career that no one wanted to read paranormal romances. Also keep in mind that rejections happen for different reasons – that publisher is already planning to release a story with a similar plot/character, that agent’s bio said she’s looking for X, but she’s been swimming in X for the past year and maybe doesn’t like it as much anymore. Yes, it’s possible that your story is crap. But when I told Sandra Chastain* that I was hesitant about going to my first writer’s workshop because I wrote crap, she told me, “Everyone writes crap. Then they revise and learn and get better.” And as Maggie Montgomery** said, you’ve been given those words for a reason. Someone out there needs to read your story.

* one of the founders of Georgia Romance Writers
** winner of Passionate Ink’s 2013 Passionate Plume award for Best Novella
Q: What do you like to read and who are your favourite authors?
A: I don’t read nearly as much as I should. I’m hesitant to read in my own sub-genre, because I’m terrified that I’ll inadvertently plagiarize someone else. I like Amanda Quick; her novels (as AQ and Jayne Ann Krentz) are what got me back into reading romance in the first place. I like Nora Roberts and J.D. Robb. The Harry Potter books are what got me into writing in the first place – what a world JK Rowling created! I just wanted to stay there, which caused me to re-read the books over and over until the last one came out. Agatha Christie—how did she manage to make every single story completely different from all the rest, even the ones with recurring characters like Miss Marple? Stephen King, Jane Austen. I read some Ruth Rendell and Barbara Vine until a couple of them scared me so much I had to stop. Now I can’t remember which one it was. But isn’t that good writing?! When you make your readers have to put the book in the freezer for awhile?
Q: Do you write one novel at a time or do you move between works in progress?
A: Gah. I try to work on one novel at a time until the first draft is done, but sometimes I move between WIPs, which is probably why I have such a hard time finishing things. Plus, I hate revising, so when I do finish a first draft, I put it aside for awhile, and then that awhile turns into months or even years. I did write the YA novel for 2012’s NaNoWriMo and didn’t work on anything else until I’d finished the first draft, but usually I jump around to whatever I have an idea for. I’m trying to harness the power of my short attention span, but it’s not really working out.
Q: Do you have times when the Muse is away on holiday?
A: I’m not sure I’ve ever met my muse. About the only time a story leaps into my head is when I’m writing it for fun. My story for “Love Has No Boundaries” practically wrote itself, but I realized after I was finished that it had no real plot. The characters had no goals or motivations, just conflict, and it was told in a series of scenes in which they come together and piss each other off. I couldn’t write a story like that for publication, but it poured out of me.
Another story that is chomping at the bit (I’ll get to you as soon as I finish the current one, I promise!) is one I’m writing for an anthology that will be a fundraiser for Project Fierce in Chicago. They’re trying to provide transitional housing for LGBT youth. I believe it will be out sometime in the spring of 2014. I had so many good ideas for that story when I first started thinking about it. I just hope I can recapture that mojo when I get back to it.
Q. What motivates you to write?
A: I’m a lazy writer, so my motivation is mostly from habit. I don’t have characters hammering on my brain 24 hours a day, but that could be because I need more sleep, and because spending time at the day job tends to drain the story out of my head. I will say that it’s very much a matter of momentum and inertia, like everything else in life. The more I write, the more the characters are in my head all the time, hammering to get out. When I slack off, go a few days without writing, the characters are way off in a field, looking over their shoulders and down their noses at me. “What? NOW you want us to talk to you? Screw you.”
At one point in my life, I thought it would be fun to write romances for a living. That was before I learned how little most writers make. J But I know people who do write
Q. What advice would you give to unpublished authors approaching an e publisher?
A: Just do it! (Please don’t sue me, Nike.) No, seriously, just give it a shot. The first story I sent off was for an anthology from Alyson Books. That was in 2006, before e-books were really a thing, and the anthology was published originally in paperback. I saw the Call for Submissions, had a great idea for a story, wrote it up, had the beta reader who read my fanfic look it over, then I sent it in the day before the deadline, not expecting it to be accepted. It was my first original story, writers get rejections for years before being accepted, etc. etc. One month after the deadline, I got an email from the publisher. I was confused, because the submissions guidelines said they’d contact you only if your work was accepted. When I read the email, I was honestly shocked that the story had been accepted. Maybe constantly expecting rejection isn’t the healthiest way to live, but it keeps me sane. (Although I will be very upset if the pirate story is rejected – it’s jam-packed with adventure, suspense, and sex! How could anyone reject that? :P)
I mean, yes, you have to write the best story you can write, make it as unique as you can, get the manuscript as technically clean as it can be, and have someone look it over before you send it in. And again, what’s the worst they can say? No. (And then that you suck but no time, aren’t dicks, lucky not to work with psychos, shadenfreude, etc.) Then you revise and submit to someone else.
Oh! Speaking of rejections: our local writers group, Georgia Romance Writers, has a contest every year called The Rejection Collection. In January, everyone who wants to enter throws five dollars into the pot. At the December meeting, whoever has collected the most rejections (and I think it can be on more than one story) wins the pot. The point of this game is to encourage people to Send Out Their Work. In GRW, a rejection is considered good news. It means you Sent Out Your Work.
If you want to write as a hobby, that’s fine, no one is going to yell at you. You can post your fanfiction online, and I have to admit, writing unpublishable stories is SO relaxing. No pressure. BUT if you want to be a published author, you have to Send Out Your Work.
Keep in mind, though, that if your story does get accepted, you’ll still have to make changes. My first read-through of the editor’s comments really put my back up. “But I sent in The  Perfect Story; how could she possibly want changes?” On the second read-through, I started to see some of her points. It also occurred to me that our books pay editors’ salaries, so they’re going to want our books to be the absolute best they can be. They’re not trying to sabotage your story or change your voice. They’re there to help you. (Of course, if they say, “The story is great, but we want you to change the love interest from a man to a woman,” or “10th century China is fascinating, but can you make it Steampunk instead?” then you might need to have a serious talk with them. J ALTHOUGH Jayne Ann Krentz says that as long as you know what the heart of your story is, you could theoretically be able to change the setting. Maybe she can do that; I don’t think I’m there yet.)
Q: Is there anything you would like to share with us about upcoming releases?
A: I don’t have any upcoming releases, but I did have my first non-anthology published work come out on November 29. Please see below!
Q: Can you tell us a little about your current novel? What inspired you to write this story?

This story was actually going to be for another publisher’s anthology, but very soon it shot way past the maximum word limit, so I decided to turn it into a novella. “A Cunning Plan” is a Regency with a touch of paranormal. I love the whole “marriage of convenience” plot that works so well in Regencies, and I’d always wanted to try a M/M story set in that period. It’s really hard to say anything else about it without giving away spoilers, but I’ll just say that I tried to give the story a bit of mystery, so that the reader isn’t quite sure what is true until almost the end. I have no idea if I was successful in that or not. J
Alec, Earl of Whittlesey, lives a dull and reclusive existence, rarely mingling with society and, to his mother’s regret, refusing to marry. But his mother and society do not know he harbors a secret: a kind of madness that is driving him to deadly despair.

When Alec meets the commoner Morgan Villenie, he finds the man’s cheer and wit hard to resist, despite his own dark moods. Alec warms to Villenie, but Villenie has secrets of his own. If these two men are ever truly to be together, they must trust each other enough to reveal those secrets—even if they both believe the truth could tear them apart.

Excerpt: Since this site usually discusses erotica, I’ll give you an excerpt of one of the more “intimate” moments between the Alec and Villenie, the man who came up with a plan to solve all of Alec’s problems. Villenie is like no one Alec has met, and he’s not exactly sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Don’t you like it, being this close?” Villenie lowered his head and pressed a kiss just under Alec’s jaw. Alec shuddered. and Villenie went still. “Oh. You don’t.” He moved back, frowning, and let go of Alec’s hands. “I beg your pardon. You’ve stated many times how much you dislike my appearance. Perhaps I’ve been presumptuous to think you would have an iota of desire for—”
Alec seized Villenie’s head and pulled him close to kiss him again. He started when Villenie licked at his lips, and he pulled back, but Villenie caught his jaw.
“Open,” he murmured.
Alec didn’t understand until Villenie moved his lips insistently against Alec’s. Groaning, Alec opened his mouth and allowed Villenie inside. He slid his own tongue over Villenie’s, into Villenie’s mouth, their breaths mingling and warming each other’s lips.
Villenie tasted like ale and the good brown bread they had eaten for dinner. Alec closed his eyes, trying to taste Villenie himself, and then he yelped, breaking the kiss, when cool fingers touched him most familiarly.
“Cold hands, I apologize,” Villenie said, withdrawing his hand from Alec’s trousers, which he had unbuttoned without Alec even noticing. He lifted his hand to his mouth and breathed on it a few times, never taking his eyes from Alec’s. When he reached between them again and closed warmer fingers around Alec’s member, Alec shut his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall of the coach.
Madness. Everything that Villenie said or did came from a place of madness. So why did Alec listen to him instead of sending him away? Because no one could look into Villenie’s lively brown eyes, feel the full force of his smile, and not agree to whatever the man suggested. The most harebrained ideas sounded sensible and even clever when they came out of Villenie’s perfect, delicious mouth. The perfect, delicious mouth that moved along Alec’s jawline and down his throat.

Buy Link:

Author’s links:
twitter: @BSnow_writer
Thanks so much to HC for this opportunity!
 Those who comment between Dec. 12 and 16, ending at midnight GMT on Dec. 17  and leave their email address will go into a draw for a copy of A Cunning Plan.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

My First Time

Goodreads Book of Year Award Nominee:

A Tryst in Time by HC Brown in Best Historical M/M

You can vote for my book in the Historical section here:

It takes a while to scroll through to the historical section but I'd really appreciate your vote especially if you enjoyed my book. Things like this make writing worth while.

Thank you

H.C. Brown

Monday, December 9, 2013

New Release: Purr-fect Mates


Book Blurb

 Prince Dallin, second son of King Blaise of Knight Watch is happy with his lover, Striker and is concerned when his uncle summons him back to Knight Watch Castle.  He discovers the Lady Boda has a mission for him and his lover. She sends and Stryker to rescue a Spellweaver. The two shifters discover Lailii is a little more woman than they bargained for.


The Great Book of the Prides:
 Entry by King Blaise of Knight Watch.

As we move forward, so many immortals move upon the Earth that Dryad becomes too small for our needs. Nox in his great wisdom has created a place of great magic Knight Watch Castle sits on Fae Island within the lands of the twelve gates. We have moved half of our pride there for safety. The god Arious set this new pride aside by gifting their cats with the purest of white coats. Our pride has great variety of gifts now, with many Fae joining our lines but all carry their cats. The pride progresses with speed and indeed, there are contraptions in the new realm I cannot fathom.  This pride is under the guidance of King Leopold a temporary measure as I am unable to rule both lands. My second son, Dallin of Knight Watch, resides there with two of his brothers. Indeed, if my beloved queen continues to give me sons we may need another realm or two.  I have made Dallin the true king of this pride and he will rule on his majority.

Chapter One

Lightening Falls Gate

Dallin inhaled the female's arousal and winked at Stryker. His lover lay on his back across the wide, black silk-covered bed. The sweetest Elfin female straddled his massive cock. They had hit gold this time. The willing female wanted both of them. After watching Stryker drive into her wet pussy for five long minutes, Dallin's balls ached. He reached for the tube of lube and approached the bed. He ran his tongue over his fangs. "May I have your ass, sweet thing?"
The female shot him a smile over her shoulder and pressed her small tits into Stryker's chest. Her sweet, white ass cheeks opened in invitation. Dallin groaned and applied lube to her inviting star. The female mewed her approval. Without hesitation, Dallin climbed onto the bed. He grasped his heavy cock and guided it into her tight hole with one thrust of his hips.
Taking a firm hold of her small waist, he drove into her. So damn hot, so deliciously tight. He gasped his thanks. With each plunge, he brushed Stryker's cock through the thin barrier of skin. What bliss. He met Stryker's hot gaze and knew they shared the same erotic experience. The touch, the slide of cock against cock, was intoxicating and one they both enjoyed.
Dallin's climax built quickly. The shivery sensations started in his belly, and the heat deep in his balls intensified with each delightful thrust. The room filled with the slap of bodies and the warm scent of sex. The female began to tremble, and then cried out her climax. She fell forward, spilling chestnut hair across Stryker's chest.
"Now, Dal." Stryker squeezed Dallin's thigh. "I'm gonna come."
With short, hard thrusts of his hips, Dallin drove into the female. Erotic sensations blurred his vision; white spots danced before his eyes. He gave into the bliss and spilled in delicious, hot spurts. Collapsing forward, he reached for Stryker and crushed the man's lips in a long, hot kiss. Gods, he loved the taste of the man.
"Oh, that is so sweet." The female rested her head on Striker's shoulder. "Can you get up now? You're crushing me."
After a long moment, Dallin broke the kiss. He glanced toward the digital readout flashing on the wall and swore. He rolled off the girl. "My uncle wants to see me." He looked down at the female. "How much, sweetheart?"
"For a new customer, the price is just one gold strip." The girl climbed off the bed and took a thumb scanner from her purse. "Each."
Dallin pressed his thumb on the device and grinned. "We'll call you again real soon. What was your name?"
"Rose. I work at the Freak Show most days." She licked her lips and smiled. "I can always bring a friend—male or female."
"I'll think on it." Dallin inclined his head toward the door. "You should leave now."
"What do you think the king wants?" Stryker slid off the bed and headed for the shower.
Dallin watched the girl pull on a long dress and leave. He closed the door behind her, and then followed Stryker into the shower. Turning to face his friend, he stared at the control panel sending a spike of magyck into the system. "I have no idea."
"Do you think he wants you to move back into the castle?" Stryker rubbed the back of his neck.
A blast of hot magyck swirled around them, and Dallin sighed. The fresh and clean glass cubicle did not compare to the satisfying experience of a hot shower. He turned around and grinned at his lover. "Well, it has been two years. He might—if he's forgiven me. To be honest, I wouldn't mind seeing my brothers again."
"I'll miss you." Stryker touched Dallin's arm. "You know I can't gain entrance to Knight Watch Castle; will you come and visit me?"
With a chuckle, Dallin stepped from the cubicle and strode back into the bedroom. He went straight to the wardrobe and pulled out clean clothes. "You don't really think I could live without you, after three years of being together, do you? You are as close to me as any mate; we care for each other." He turned and smiled at Stryker. "I won't move anywhere without you."
"Good. Do you want me to come to the castle with you?" Stryker stood naked, his fists balled on his hips. "Or do you think the king will disapprove?"
"He knows about you already. We hardly hid the fact we were lovers. We were practically living together in my rooms at the castle." Dallin pulled on his clothes. "As long he knows I seek a female for my future queen, all will be well." He sighed. “And in any case it’s my father who I need to please and he trusts my judgment. Many of my uncles have males for mates.”
“The king isn’t your blood is he? I mean he isn’t one of your father’s brothers?”
Dallin smiled. “No, he is a guardian until my father believes I’m mature enough to rule. Uncle is a courtesy title nothing more, although sometimes he acts as if he were my father.” He snorted. “My father, Blaise, is gentle and caring nothing like the tyrant in charge at the moment.”
"Do you believe the Lady intends to find a mate for us to share?" Stryker pulled clothes from the chest of drawers and proceeded to dress.
Dallin pulled on his soft leather boots. He lifted his head to meet Stryker's deep, emerald gaze. The Talynx Pride male had the hard, muscular body of a seasoned warrior. Long, golden brown hair tumbled down his back in a waterfall of curls. Dallin loved his full lips, high cheekbones, and long, straight nose. As tall as Dallin, Stryker stood a good head and shoulders above most Pride males in this realm.
At the sight of his lover naked, Dallin grew hard again. Gods, I can still taste him. He could never have enough of the man. Dallin cleared his throat. "I have no doubt we were paired by the Lady. We have to trust She will guide us to the female of our dreams."

* * * * *

Friday, November 15, 2013


 BDSM, Science Fiction, Time Travel, M/F, M/M, M/M/M .

Fane Jacobs, or 636, is a genetically and robotically enhanced human, with the ability to change his appearance at will. He is trapped on Terros 9 in 3010 with a psychopathic owner, Gryd. His duty is to entertain Gryd's guests both male and female with his skill in the dungeon. Forbidden to show emotions, he longs for the comfort of a lover, and his dreams are filled with the image of a sweet sub.

Cyborgs are classified as machines on Terros 9, they have no rights. After his friend, Jace, is pack-raped by a group of male guests, Fane and Jace steal a starship, and travel back in time to Earth in 2040. Jace takes off for a night with the right man, while Fane explores the city. His attention is drawn to a woman being attacked by a gang of thugs. He rushes to her aid and is shot. The woman, Dr. Tamara Bright, resembles the sub from his dreams. She discovers his integrated neural matrix and other enhancements on the Bio Scanner. Will she turn away or will she fall for the deliciously, handsome cyborg?        


Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Welcome Guest Author Tarion Keelan

Dancing With The Daffodils
Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance.

Val, an English teacher, takes an exchange position in Australia to recover from the death of his lover. He stages Romeo and Juliet at his school, and becomes close friends with Anna, the head teacher. Oliver (who plays Romeo) falls in love with Val, and although the feeling is mutual, because of his position Val cannot allow the relationship to develop.
Val struggles with his feelings, unable to come to terms with Oliver’s youthful seductive ways, and unable to reconcile his heartache over David’s death with his developing affection for Oliver, which he must reject both internally and externally. And at the same time he must make a life for himself in a country far from his friends and the world he knows. How do you decide between love and duty?


The frost sparkled on the pavements and the piled snow on the bare branches mocked me with its whiteness. My breath smoked out its pain as I waited for Sean. A bitter wind whipped up as I stood there, and it began to snow again. The morning was freezing. I was freezing, and the warm coat, scarf and gloves couldn’t penetrate the chill of agony that ate out my insides. I pulled the coat around me, shivering, and wondered whether I would ever be warm again. I turned and stared at the house for a last time, then bent and picked one of the early daffodils, briefly immobilised by the pain of memory as his laughter echoed across the frosty lawn.
        “We’ll have daffodils next spring!”
And I had helped him up after the bulbs were safely in, and complained that he stank of fertilizer. I twirled the daffodil between my fingers and I refused to allow the tears to fall.

Sean was uncharacteristically quiet as he helped load the suitcases into the boot and we hardly spoke as he drove me to Manchester airport, but that was his way of showing me that he understood, his way of allowing me to wallow in my despair. I glanced up and peered into the snow as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. The flurries whirled outside the windows, and I strained to see where we were in this neverending world of whiteness. When I finally realised, the ice immobilised me, froze me to my seat.
"We’ve got time before the plane leaves," he whispered.
But I couldn’t. I knew I ought to do this - that somehow this small detour along the journey was expected of me, was something that I should do. But I couldn’t even bring myself to leave the car. And it didn’t matter that Sean thought I didn’t care, because there was no way anybody could think that, and if they did, they had no right to think it. I did care. I felt the hot prickles of care welling up behind my eyes. But I couldn’t move. It would have been too final, and however much I needed to leave - and they all said I should - I couldn’t actually say goodbye.

So we drove on from the cemetery without a last visit to his grave, and it didn’t tear my heart out because at that point, I remember thinking, I didn’t really have a heart to be torn. Just ice within my chest cavity - ice, which would melt into emptiness in the meaningless sunshine of where I was going - Australia.

“You will email me.”
Sean’s soft words, whispered close to my ear, were heavy with tears. I held on tightly. He had loved David too, had loved us both, and he had given me nothing but unwavering support. Even when he could have hurt me with the truth of my actions he hadn’t. He had recognised that the pain I was giving myself was enough, that it didn’t take his stating the obvious for me to know what I had done wrong. And I loved him for that. I held on, my nose buried in the wool of his coat, unable to let go.
        “Of course I will.”
        “I need to know how you really are. Not what you think I want to hear.”
I nodded. I couldn’t say any more. The words were stuck there somewhere in a lump, and wouldn’t come out. He understood, as he always did.
        “Come on, lad. Let’s get you on this plane.”

buy link

Tarion’s page

Monday, November 11, 2013

New Release from H.C. Brown plus excerpt

One Delicious Man or Two?

By: H.C. Brown
Published By: Spunk Books
ISBN # 9780992371425
Word Count: 28800
Heat Index     

Available in: Epub, , Adobe Acrobat
Buy: All Romance    Special price $2.99


About the book

Zor, a Fae male has spent some time observing Landon a deliciously handsome bad boy. He is convinced he is a shifter from a future race known as the Ecatnie. Zor is attracted to the human and decides to discover if his assumptions are correct.

After making contact, he convinces Landon to leave his home, FB and TV and follow him into Other World with the promise of magic and free love. In this new dimension, Landon is impatient, he wants Zor with a passion but Zor is holding out, not wanting to make a mistake and have his heart broken.

An excerpt from the book

Zor walked beside Landon at a slow pace along the quiet streets. The moon bathed the way, nestled in a sky filled with stars. He took a long, deep breath, glad to be away from the den of iniquity. The cool, night air held a refreshing breeze, a welcome change from the artificial Nomag environment in the casino. Landon walked close beside him and brushed his arm, or touched his back during their conversation. He’s trying to glamor me.
A short time later, Landon stopped under a tree and leaned his impressive body against the trunk.
“I get the feeling you want me. My cat tells me you smell of lust. This pretense of innocence doesn’t add up.”
Zor smiled, he wanted him so bad it had showed on his face. “What I want must wait. When I explain everything about the realms and your people, you may not want to start a relationship with me.”
“That’s not true―what you said before, it sounds exciting. I like excitement — I live for it. I’m driven by my instincts.” Landon slipped his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans.
“It’s part of what you are. Instinct and scent are what drives the Pride males. However, I’m worried this attraction you have for me might be a mistake.”
“I don’t think so, my instincts are usually correct. And I want to taste you so bad it’s killing me.” Landon pushed away from the tree and moved closer.
Zor groaned. Landon snaked his long fingers around his head and pulled him into a devastating kiss. His warm lips crushed Zor’s mouth, branding him, devouring him. Zor’s knees buckled and his glamor fled. He moaned, kissing Landon back with ferocious need. Landon’s hard body pressed against him, and each point of contact became a slow burn destroying his resolve. He dragged his mouth away, gasping for breath. “Gods, we’re out in the open.”

Landon stared down at him. Zor’s mouth was wet and swollen from his kiss and the color high in his cheeks. He liked that, seeing the effect he had on him. Desire shone in Zor’s eyes. He wants me. I fucking knew it. He brushed his thumb over Zor’s bottom lip. “There’s no one around and who cares?”
“They will if they see my wings.” Zor fluttered his wings.
Landon stared dumbfounded. He stepped back a few paces and his back collided with the tree. Before him, Zor had exploded into a cloud of white, diaphanous wings.
“Wings—hell, are you an angel? I mean, fuck! Now I’m going to hell for sure.”
“I’m not an angel. I’m Fae. Sorry, it was the kiss. Passion drops my glamor.” Zor folded his wings.
Landon rubbed his eyes. His mouth shut with a click. He tried to speak but his confused mind would not form coherent thought. The street moved in and out of focus and he blinked. Zor’s face came into view, his expression bleak. The man, if he was a man, touched his arm. His magnificent wings slid into his back and disappeared.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

NEW RELEASES: The Pride Brothers are back!!!!!

Book #1

 Jill Morfranna, a sassy redhead from New York, is enjoying a photo shoot in the Scottish Highlands when she stumbles into an alternate realm. Trapped in a frightening world of strange creatures, her life turns upside down when a sinfully handsome shape-shifter kidnaps her. Will she win Dare of Knight Watch’s heart or will he trade her for his sister at the next slave auction?
Buy Link

Dr. Elizabeth Clark's life turns upside down when the Druiks kidnap her,

 and take her to Druik Void, located in a future realm. Caged like an 

animal in a laboratory filled with humanoid specimens from other 

dimensions, she endures experimental surgery.  Zandor and Thryll, two 

very sexy shape-shifters trapped with her, persuaded her to escape with 

them. Will Beth survive the frantic journey to safety? Or will she fall 

prey to the insatiable shifters?

 Book #3: 
Aria d'Lion, author of bestselling books, "The Fairy in My Garden", and "Shape-shifters Are Among Us" discovers to her horror that most of the things she's written about are true. The deliciously handsome man who shows up at a book signing has been sent to kill her, trouble is, he is a panther shifter and Aria is his mate. Too bad he's already in love with a man.
Hot sexy Rio has a list of kinky sex partners but one special man in his life. His world is turned upside down when he discovers his man has the same feelings for Aria as he does.   
Buy Link      

 Book#4    Deliciously handsome, insatiable, alpha male Hawke of Knight Watch has a reputation for having a voracious and varied sex life. However, his ability to attract streams of men and women to his bed comes into question when he meets the mysterious Ice Princess, Lydia.
Lydia, born of both Fae and Pride, has a secret. Unable to chance the man of her dreams discovering the truth about her, she publicly refuses the handsome Prince Hawke.
Disillusioned and heart sore, Hawke must fight the battle of his life against the dogs invading his realm, and for the love of his true mate. 
Buy Link