Can a no-strings fun-times
relationship with two older men lead to real and lasting love?
Blurb
With the My Kinky Housemate app, I’ve found a place to
live with seven like-minded guys. My new start and a chance to make my dreams come true
aren’t turning out like I hoped. A housemate has the solution—become a sugar baby.
Answering an ad is easy, but will a Sugar Daddy be interested in me?
A sexy interior designer is way more than I expect. He
wants to spoil me, spank me, and share me with his silver fox husband.
Together, Colton and Ford solve some of my problems but
create another as I start to fall for them. However fun our time together is, I have to remind
myself it’s not real. It won’t last. It’s not love… is it?
Sugar Bunny is
an MMM, D/switch/s, age-gap romance. It includes pet-play, spanking, an open relationship,
sharing—but no cheating!—and some hurt/comfort.
Trigger warning: domestic abuse.
Excerpt
My black naughty bunny outfit consists of my bargain-buy corset, a jockstrap, suspender
belt, and fishnets. I made a pompom out of wool and attached it to the very bottom of the
corset. I feel sexy wearing it, especially when I add the bunny ears. I make sure they’re fully
upright because I want to look perky for Colton.
Colton and Ford are waiting for me in the reception room. They’re sitting facing the open
doorway, which means they see me the moment I walk in the door. Both men stare at me
with wide eyes, not hiding the fact that they’re looking me up and down.
“You look sexy,” Colton says in a husky voice.
“Gorgeous,” Ford agrees.
He rubs his hand over his thighs, which draws my attention to the obvious bulge in his
trousers. I gnaw my lower lip as a little thrill runs through me. He’s turned on by me.
“Are you ready to play, bunny?” Colton asks as he stands and walks over to me.
Ready. Excited. Nervous. “Yes, Daddy.”
He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, making me squeak. The sound is barely audible,
though, because he kisses me crazily hard at the exact same moment. He’s claiming me.
Showing me who’s in charge. Not that he needs to. He’s in charge. I’ll do
anything he says.
He lets me go and steps back. “Do a little twirl for Daddy. I want to see my bunny from every
angle.”
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An
evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding.
She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two
beautiful children and her writing.
Tom Morton is a gay
Catholic priest whose lover comes back into his life leading to a confrontation with a
powerful bishop.
Blurb
The story has two timelines. In the odd-numbered chapters
we meet Tom, an isolated fifty-year old parish priest of St. James’ Church, a Jesuit-built
church in a northern English town. Tom is an in-the-closet gay man in an increasingly
intolerant Catholic Church, an organisation that defines homosexuality as inherently
disordered with traditionalist elements blaming incidents of child sex abuse on an
underground ‘pink mafia’. Antony, the only man Tom has ever fallen in love with, the man he
abandoned thirty-years earlier, arrives in church to ask Tom to provide the Sacrament of the
Sick to his dying mother.
In the second timeline, the even numbered chapters, we
see Tom from childhood through to his ordination as a priest. As Tom grows into
adolescence the confusion begins: he has experiences with girls, as well as burgeoning
romantic and sexual feelings for his friend, Antony. After they sleep together for the first
time, as the pressure to conform to a heterosexual society reaches fever-pitch, Tom
abandons his lover and flees to the Church. At Ash Burrow seminary, Tom finds acceptance,
a masculine culture, and other gay men like himself.
The novel has three sections. The first section describes
Tom meeting Antony again after decades apart, the rekindling of their relationship, and how
history repeats itself with Tom siding with the Church against his love. In the second
timeline, we see Tom’s childhood, and the repercussions of the tragic car accident that kills
his father and brother.
The second section describes Toms emotional collapse and
the deterioration of his mental health until he reaches the point where he is actively
suicidal. In contrast, we see Tom’s teenage-self approaching life with a sense of potential.
The section ends with Tom coming out to his congregation and informing them that he is
HIV positive and has been for twenty years.
In the third section, Tom is sacked, and St. James church is
closed and put up for sale. Tom is also dealing with the scars of a violent sexual assault
suffered whilst he was a seminarian at Ash Burrow – the perpetrator, Derek Worrell, is now
the Bishop of Preston. In the second timeline, we see Tom’s life at the seminary, his
romances, his appreciation of the structure of the Church, and the horrific incident that
changes his life forever.
The story reaches its close with a group of gay Catholic
priests standing with Tom against the bishop and the diocese. Antony proposes to Tom in a
crowded railway station, and they prepare to begin their lives together.
Excerpt
Excerpt from ‘A Particular Friendship’
Tom read the gospel according to John.
‘When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus
went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts, he found people selling cattle, sheep, and
doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So, he made a whip out of cords and
drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money
changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of
here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”’
‘Jesus was a man of action,’ Tom told his congregation, ‘a
person who would take risks. Jesus did not stop to do a risk assessment, fill the forms in, or
consult a firm of speciality solicitors. Instead, he acted out of a deep conviction, the
conviction that love is God, that love is central to our lives, that crowding our lives with the
busyness of business leaves no room for goodness. Jesus felt fear, just like us, but he did
what he knew God wanted him to do.’
After the blessing and dismissal, the Arundel children,
Sophie and Danny, led the way from the altar to the church entrance, brother and sister
dressed in matching black cassocks and white surplices. Standing on the tiled steps, Tom
shook the hands of his parishioners, blessed proffered rosaries and crucifixes on chains,
waved goodbye to the choir, thanked visitors for coming.
On his way back to the sacristy, Tom found Mike Arundel
waiting by the Lady Altar as his children snuffed out the candles and tidied up.
‘Hello, Mike,’ Tom said, as he strode past.
‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel replied.
‘See you, Father Thomas,’ Sophie said, as she hung her
cassock on a hanger in the wall cupboard and disappeared into the church.
‘How are you finding things at St. Pat’s, Danny?’ Tom asked.
‘I went there myself, a long time ago.’
‘Everyone seems really nice. Mister Cooper is strict
though.’
‘I went to school with your headmaster. He was in the year
above me.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s a big change, going to high school.’
‘Yeah,’
‘Do you see your sister around school much?’
‘Not much.’
‘What subjects do you like best?’
‘I like music and drama.’
‘What about sports, football and rugby?’
‘I don’t like football.’
‘I didn’t like it either at school. I was useless. I like watching
it now though.’
‘My dad takes me to watch Bussell Athletic.’
‘That sounds fun.’
‘I’ve got to go… my dad will be waiting.’
‘Hi five, Danny.’
The boy slapped the priest’s hand and then he was
gone.
‘Go and sit with your sister in the car,’ Tom heard Mike
Arundel tell his son.
‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel said, as he stepped into the
sacristy, ‘keep your hands off my boy.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Tom said.
‘You heard me.’
There was a loud knock at the front door of the rectory and
Tom, still stunned, walked from the sacristy into his home. Opening the door, he found a
dishevelled woman with a supermarket carrier bag in her hands.
‘Hello, Father Morton. I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve had
nothing to eat for two days. Can I come in?’
Tom fought the compulsion to tell the stranger to piss off,
to tell her that now was not a good time. In fact, it was an incredibly bad time. He bit back
his anger. Then, he did what he was supposed to do and invited the woman in.
‘Come in, please. Would you like some food?’
‘Thank you, Father. I thought you were going to tell me to
fuck off there, for a minute.’
‘No, not at all. Sorry, I was having a senior moment. The
kitchen is this way. Please follow me.’
As his guest took her seat at the table, Tom brought out a
slice of Joan Bird’s ‘Friday fish-day’ pie from the fridge.
‘I’ll warm this up for you. Would you like a tea or a coffee
with that? Let me plug that phone in for you.’
‘Can I use your bathroom, please? I promise I won’t rob
nothing.’
‘There isn’t anything worth stealing, I’m afraid, not unless
you like religious books. The bathroom is upstairs, first door on the left.’
Tom warmed the pie in the microwave and put some frozen
green beans into boiling water on the stove.
‘You’re welcome to have a shower whilst you’re here, if you
like. There is a lock on the door so needn’t worry about your privacy,’ he said, as his visitor
returned.
‘Are you saying I smell?’
‘Gosh no. I would never say that. I was just…’
‘I’m messing with you. I’m Rosie.’
‘Hi, Rosie,’ Tom said, extending his hand, ‘I’m Tom.’
‘You’re a good priest, Father Morton. I can tell. Not like
some of the others.’
‘That’s kind of you. Funnily enough, I’ve just had a rather
unpleasant conversation with a parent who told me in no uncertain terms that I am not
allowed to clap hands with his son.’
‘The bad apples spoil it…’ Rosie said, dissolving into a
coughing fit, holding her sleeve to her mouth.
‘Are you okay?’ Tom said, concerned. ‘Can I get you
anything?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ Rosie said, fishing a fistful of paper napkins
from her pocket and wiping her mouth.
‘I think your food is ready.’
Tom watched as Rosie devoured the food, finishing her
plate in a matter of minutes.
About the Author
I am the author of the Queer
Testament series (Trans Deus – about a trans woman Christ, 7 Minutes – about coming out at
the point of death, Parably Not – an illuminated book in the tradition of William Blake, and A
Particular Friendship- a story about a gay Catholic priest who finds himself in conflict with
his sexuality and his Church). My stories are about the intersection of faith and sexuality. I
am a Will Blake obsessive and I’m working on new material based on his themes of sex and
gender fluidity, revelation and rebellion. I love reading (Alan Garner, Alan Moore, Susan
Cooper, Ballard, and PK Dick especially). I live in Manchester, England.
To embrace the future and
find love, both men must face the darkness of their pasts.
Blurb
A man torn between what his soul wants and what he
believes is expected of him, Scheredin D’Vaire is still fiercely loyal to his family. Scheredin is
one of the few remaining warlocks and spends his days aiding his cousins in running the
D’Vaire sanctuary. In his free time, Scheredin loves gaming. With the tap of a few keys,
Scheredin can lose himself in another world.
Kieran Tarinthfenix is a phoenix shifter whose tribe likes to
forget that elf blood also runs through their veins. A driven man, Kieran takes his hobby of
gaming and learns to craft titles of his own. He hands his income to his chieftain despite
Kieran’s lack of respect for a man who forces his people to take part in an ancient but cruel
ceremony every year.
Scheredin and Kieran meet online and quickly grow into
gaming buddies. For years, they are content with an online relationship and the anonymity it
provides. When Scheredin decides to meet Kieran in person, they discover they’re mates,
but there are secrets between them. To find lasting love, both men will have to throw away
the past and seize their destinies.
Excerpt
A product of elven blood, even though the Tarinthfenix
refused to admit it, Kieran had lacked any kind of sexuality until that moment. His breath
caught, knowing that inside the shop was his mate. Stepping into the bright space, Kieran
scanned the customers, and his silver gaze with hints of purple locked on a short man with
dark hair and a light goatee.
His expression was one of shock, and there was little else
to read in his heavily lashed green eyes. In his hand was a stunning lily of blue and black,
which brought a smile to Kieran’s face. Somehow, it made perfect sense that the man he’d
become instant friends with all those years ago was the other half of his soul.
Crossing the distance that separated them, Kieran’s grin
grew as he delightedly considered the handsome man still staring at him blankly. “Hi,
Scheredin.”
“Hi, Keladriel. I’m Brexton,” said the man at Scheredin’s
side, who resembled him a great deal.
“A pleasure to meet you, Brexton,” Kieran replied
immediately and flicked his attention back to Scheredin.
Brexton nudged Scheredin’s shoulder.
“Say hello,” he murmured to Scheredin, whose mouth
snapped shut.
“Hi, Keladriel,” Scheredin whispered.
“Crazy, right?” Kieran asked. “Makes me kind of mad. We
should’ve planned this a long time ago.”
“What does that mean?” demanded a broad-shouldered
man with navy eyes and soft brown curls.
“Keladriel is my mate, Brogan,” Scheredin told the tall
guy.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” yelled a man around
Scheredin’s height as his hands rose to grab fistfuls of his blond ringlets, catching the
attention of several customers.
“You can calm down,” Brogan growled. “I already know
you’re going to give me shit for the rest of eternity.”
“Hi, I’m Dra’Kaedan,” the blond said, shouldering his way
between Scheredin and Brexton to wave. “I was so excited I nearly forgot and tried to shake
your hand.”
Kieran was seconds away from refuting Dra’Kaedan’s
assumption that he was an elf, despite his ears and attire, when the name hit him. “Like,
Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire?”
Although he wasn’t allowed to explore the outside world, it
fascinated Kieran, and he’d often read about the famous people within the Council. As far as
Kieran could tell from the online newspapers, there were few families as reputable and
powerful as the D’Vaires, so it made sense that people would name their kids after the royal
family.
“He is Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire,” Scheredin
remarked. “We’re all D’Vaires. The tall guy behind him is his mate, Grand Duke Brogan
D’Vairedraconis. At the table next to you pretending not to listen are Coven Lord Bridger
D’Vaire and Coven Lord Hadley D’Vaire. They’re here to protect me in case you turned out to
be a homicidal maniac planning to butcher me in a coffee shop or whatever other nefarious
idea Brogan had for what might happen today.”
“Why does everyone always make me sound crazy?”
Brogan demanded.
“Please, you do that all by yourself, Mate,” Dra’Kaedan
muttered.
“Do you follow all elven traditions even though you aren’t a
part of the Council?” Brexton asked, cocking his head.
Kieran wasn’t fond of lies, but there was no hesitation in
his soul over his matebond. Although they had plenty to learn about each other, Kieran
knew Scheredin’s character and was wildly attracted to him. He was ready to explore his
new sexuality with the attractive man studying him, and Kieran understood that their belief
that he was an elf named Keladriel could help speed up the process of binding them
together for eternity.
Not only would Kieran not have to wait to be with
Scheredin, but he could also finally walk away from the Tarinthfenix without guilt. Fate
wanted Kieran to be with Scheredin, and he was fully on board with her plan. In fact, in
Kieran’s eyes, she couldn’t possibly have done better. Kieran’s gift was his closest friend and
a real, honest-to-Fate warlock to boot.
If there was anything that fascinated Kieran more than the
Council, it was magic, and Scheredin likely had plenty. While building the foundation of the
most important relationship of his life with dishonesty wasn’t the smartest choice, Kieran
would explain who he truly was and give Scheredin his real, non-elf name as soon as they
were mated. It was perhaps not the best way to speed up the timeline, but Kieran could find
no patience, and his beast was egging him on.
Instead of answering Brexton’s question with a complete
falsehood, Kieran went with his gut. “I’d like to have a mating ceremony as soon as possible
if you’re okay with that, Scheredin.”
“I will honor your customs, Keladriel. It’s not like we’re total
strangers.”
It rankled both man and phoenix to have his other half call
him by the wrong name, even though it was the one he went by in the game, but Kieran set
the outrage aside and smiled again. “Thank you.”
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in
Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she
dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in
love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute
favorite.
Jessamyn is married and
working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent
of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and
gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is
only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
There’s ugliness in beauty,
but there’s also beauty in ugliness…
We may be monsters, but
we are each other’s monsters…
Blurb
What is destiny? Do we have the power to change the
course of our lives, or are we forever bound by fates formulated by the algorithm of
being? And coincidences – are they merely fluke
occurrences or are they the results of a planned chain reaction? That is the story of a man who has run away from
his past, and another who is running from himself. Pursued by their own demons, the
unlikely pair collide fiercely with judgements and misunderstandings. From enemies to
lovers, the pair journey on a path to discover truths that they have been denied. But are
they ready to face them? Who is the hero and who is the villain in their
story? And what is their destiny…?
Looking at himself in a half mirror, he tightened his fist and
the arrowhead punctured his palm. Staring at the bident tattoo on the left of his chest, he
trembled and a tear rolled down from his eye. Savagely stabbing the arrowhead onto it, he
carved and mutilated the ink of his past.
Covered in blood, he squeezed his built body under the
tight shower, clumsily hitting the on button. Standing naked under running water, he lifted
his chin, parted his lips and tasted the chlorine water. The ravishing man ran his thick and
rough fingers through his drenched hair.
Blood drained like scarlet before waterfall from his
mutilated wound. Unfazed by the stinging pain, he smothered soap over his sculpted torso,
crimson bubbles dribbling down his rock-hard chest to those iron abdominals. Attached to
his body were a pair of athletic legs and a perky derriere. Wrapped with unsightly scars,
each told stories like cave paintings. He brushed his callused fingers over them.
Out of the shower, he raided the minibar. Cracking open a
few miniature vodka bottles, he splashed them over his mutilated wound and roughly
dressed it before swallowing a handful of painkillers, complimentary of hospitality Alice.
Breaths slowing down, his lids turned heavier.
* * *
He peeled open his swollen lids. Painfully tied to a chair
with barbed wire, he noticed he was restrained by his own signature Shibari knots. He
chuckled to himself; only one madman would mock him with such atrocity.
He heard footsteps approaching. Pricked by thousands
of pins and needles, his body went into shock when ice-cold water was splashed onto him.
Laughing sinisterly in a familiar coarse voice, the man
beside him smacked Marcus’s cheeks and whispered, ‘Time to wake up, my sleeping beauty.’
His throat tightened: Marcus was voiceless. A sudden
punch to his jaw sent a back tooth catapulting out of his mouth. Falling to the ground,
Marcus spat out metallic tasting blood between his teeth.
Holding Marcus’s arrow-tipped blades to his throat, the
man sneered, ‘How could you, Sheng?! You traitor! I’m going to take away everything you
cared about!’
Hah… that’s me…
I am Sheng… I was Sheng…
Faint knocks from a distance distracted the man.
* * *
…they were getting louder. Slowly lifting his lids, Marcus
was unsure if he was still dreaming. Stumbling to the door, he was greeted by Alice with
breakfast.
Taking one look at the tray of mush, Marcus asked, ‘What’s
this?’
‘The Director told me to bring this. High-protein mashed
beans with a side of kale salad and toast.’
‘Ugh…’ Repulsed by the unappetising meal, Marcus took a
slice of toast then chucked the tray on the desk and pulled a long hoodie over himself to
venture outdoors.
Hospitality my arse!
Guided by his lens, Marcus left the heavily guarded building
with his head down and scouted around Downtown. He felt as though he had walked into a
science fiction movie.
The bustling Downtown was buzzing with flying drones and
patrolling robots. Autonomous vehicles were driving themselves seamlessly and accordingly.
Transportation capsules were travelling at super speed in transparent tubes which was
around Downtown, surrounded by cloud-height skyscrapers.
Still trying to adjust to his new upgrade, Marcus’s cornea
lens was being bombarded with relentless data, holograms and augmentations along with
all the data from the Solar users. Dazed from experiencing the overwhelmingness that Stig
had warned about, he kept bumping into people who were engrossed in their Solar devices.
A migraine began to pound against his skull so he turned the lens off.
He wandered into a park. Sitting on a park bench, burying
his head against his knees, he rocked desperately to try and force the pain away. A
concussion had his brain mixed up, and he gasped when he suddenly flashed back to a pair
of bloodstained hands.
I’m a coward. Everyone is dead and I’m still breathing. I
failed to rescue them.
Guilt… Marcus was tormenting himself with it. He was
nothing but a lone wolf prowling in a foreign land, purposeless and meaningless.
He took a deep breath… and ended up choking himself
with a pungent stench of drunkenness. Passed out beside him (at ten in the morning) was a
man hugging an empty bottle of champagne at ten in the morning. With thick, scruffy hair
over his face, Marcus could not get a good look at the intoxicated person. Missing a shoe,
shirt unbuttoned, half undone tie – the man clearly had had a bit too much fun.
The drunk propelled his guts and Marcus sprang away
nimbly like a ninja. Holding his breath from the awful stench on his hypersensitive nostrils,
Marcus caught the drunk before he rolled into his own sick. Laying the drunk down, he
draped his hoodie over the man.
Betrayed by the only
family he’s ever known, Owen must decide: for love or team?
Blurb
Betrayed by the only family he’s ever known, Owen must
decide: for love or team?
For Roseden University frosh Theo Carter, the
journey to his true self has been long and publicized. It seems most everyone on campus
saw the TV series in which he was transitioning, and some feel very strongly he doesn’t
belong at the prestigious all-male school. Struggling with classes and bullying, junior Owen
Lewis swoops in like his own personal savior. But as the heat rises between the two, so too
does the torment from some of the school’s lacrosse team. As a product of the foster care system, Owen
knows all about not being wanted. That’s why his lacrosse teammates are so important to
him — they’ve become the closest thing he’s found to a real family. Being bounced around
constantly between different homes with just a plastic bag of his possessions taught Owen
there was no such thing as love. But if that’s true, why does Theo feel like a home he’s never
known? Owen is convinced that nothing will stop him from protecting Theo — but what if
the choice is between his found family and his first love? When all seems lost, both have choices to make.
Will they choose each other? Us Against the World is a 65 000-word HEA set
at the fictional Roseden University, in Roseden, Pennsylvania. It is the first in the series of
Roseden U books, and contains some derogatory language (LGBTQIA+)
Excerpt
“Hi! Do you need
help finding your books?” My books, my brain, my capacity to speak…
“Y-yes.” My
tongue tangled like when I was a kid, when I’d had a mouth full of Gobstoppers and couldn’t
manage any words. I bet I looked really intelligent.
Owen grinned at
me, either oblivious or nonplussed by my brainless moments. “Do you have your class
schedule? I’ll need that to find your books.”
“Sure do,” I
confirmed. I handed him my class list and he looked it over, nodding quietly to himself
before suddenly grinning even wider at me.
“You’re in my
Spanish class. But I don’t remember seeing you in the fall semester?”
“I took the fall
semester online, back home in New Hampshire.” Before he could ask why — I could see the
curiosity on his chiseled face — I explained. “I had surgery early in the year; it made more
sense to be home, rather than recovering here.” Smooth, Theo, so smooth. Why don’t you
tell him about the time you tripped and skinned both knees while you’re at it?
Owen nodded. “I
totally get that. So since you’ve got Spanish covered, it’ll just be the other four
classes?”
“Yeah. Take all my
money,” I groused, and he laughed, which made my stomach do a little flip-flop. I fought the
urge to groan. I needed to get over myself. I didn’t know this guy, and despite him looking
damn good, I shouldn’t have been swooning.
Owen went off to
search the stacks for the books, while I decided to pick up some more highlighters. I’d
brought some from home, but given the current state of my Spanish book, it would take me
no time at all before those were dried up and in need of replacements. Finding a five-pack
of assorted colors, I made a happy little noise and snatched them up, coming back to the
book section just as Owen approached with a thick stack of books.
“Oh God. How am
I going to get all of those back to my dorm?” Yes, Theo, complain to the handsome man
about your own ineptitude.
Owen peeked
around the books to peer down at me. “You didn’t bring a backpack?” I shook my head
morosely. “Two options. You can either buy a Roseden one, or if you’ve got one back in your
room, I can set the books aside while you go grab it.”
“Can you really
set them aside?” Owen nodded. “Okay, thanks! I’ll get back here as fast as I can.”
“Don’t rush,”
Owen assured me with a dazzling smile. “It’s been slow. More professors are going for
online textbooks instead of the physical ones.”
I hazarded a
glance at my stack. “Not mine, it seems.” Owen winked at me and my stomach fluttered
again. I started towards the door, then remembered the highlighters in my hand. Turning, I
placed them beside my texts. “I’ll pay for those, too, when I come back.” Owen gave me a
friendly wave, and then I was off, back to Tucker Hall.
About the Author
Shayne Prescott has been
putting together books since his medium was scraps of paper and pencil nubs. A children’s
book was considered for publication while in middle school, and his short stories were often
a favorite of his beloved English teacher, Mrs. Mazzacarro. Still, he writes.
