New Release: Taken Bi Love by Amber Rose Thompson

Blurb:

Sex for pay is the way Brian likes it. No talking, no intimacy, no ties. His body for sale to whoever pays the price. Then his sister guilts him into taking on Rebecca, a virginal, man-shy customer on a pro bono basis. Soon, Rebecca's "no's" become "yes's". Now Rebecca wants him to talk before she's willing to get undressed. Soon, their forced intimacy makes Brian reassess what he really wants from sex, and Rebecca throws caution to the wind when she finds an orgasm is what makes life worth living. What neither expects is to discover their own sexuality and preferences, resulting in a surprise happy ending - when each is taken by bi-love - because sometimes sex has a way of rewriting the rules for love.

Links:

Tied To Passion http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-01

Taken Bi Love http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-02
Scheherezade’s Gift http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=THOMPSONAR-03

Excerpt:

Taken Bi Love: Chapter One

Brian craned back his neck.

Brown hair flopped, hanging limp like beagle ears. Overhead water spurted, and his eyes shut from the barrage as air momentarily caught in his chest. He forced himself to breathe as the water cascaded over his nose making rivulets down his chin and over his throat.

Skin, shaved nearly free of hair from the night before, glistened with residue body oil still clogging his pores. Water mixed with oil, causing pools of vanilla bourbon to stain the water swirling at his feet.

Heat reactivated the oil, and his thoughts retreated back to the night before and the serious manhandling session; soreness still radiated outward from his butt hole.

Brian forced open his eyes; long curling lashes weighed down with water. Drops hit his eyes, forcing his thoughts back into the present. He despised it when clients invaded his shower space. They paid for his ass and dick in bed. No one, no one, got his shower time.

All verbal contracts firmly stipulated shower scenes as off limits and non–negotiable. Showers were serene, pure, clean, solitary endeavors. Some people meditated; Brian showered. Concept was the same but results differed. His cleanliness was physically present in the now, not an ephemeral state of consciousness.

People seriously underrated showers. With water turned on full power, sounds outside his meditation chamber disappeared leaving him gloriously alone to the sanctity of soap and scalding water. Turning up the temperature, he burned off the touch of last night. Meaty hands from a college football player, number Seventeen in specific, were all over him, particularly the lower half.

 Seventeen had shown no interest in Brian's hair or youthful body. Instead, Seventeen had paid for a very intimate long petting, fondling, and thrashing session with his ass and cock. Evidently the local cheer leading squad couldn't quite satisfy Seventeen's need for dick and ass simultaneously. A cheerleader with a strap on performed quite

differently from a swollen cock yanked mercilessly from the body while the ass was drilled for oil.

Brian looked down at his groin hoping there was no physical bruising or abrasions to hide. None. He was in the clear. His dick hung firm, not a centimeter smaller than at its most engorged – handy oddity for his side job. The perpetual 3-D lines of his groin helped nail potential clients without the need for fancy clothes or winning commentary. In a strange way, his crotch meant he had a very quiet job when it came to actual talk. And he liked it that way. He was all about the silence.

Taking ample soap, he lathered antiseptic gel around his cock and balls. Studying about contagious diseases alongside his work, meant showering was not only meditative but schizophrenic to a manic level, a dichotomy of forces that only water could balance. Showers were not over until his skin was wrinkled like a walnut shell and clean enough to use as a surgical surface. Silence and cleanliness. He was a monk with an interesting way of making the world a better and happier place.

Cupping each ball, he massaged in the soap filling valleys and ridges of his pleated scrotum with microbe eating suds. Brain could switch between dominant or submissive in bed, but when it came to his genitalia he personally pulverized the soap into them. Call it his personal fetish. While it certainly did go towards his goal of being clean, it also felt damn good to be the one squeezing his own balls.

Clasping each sack, he kneaded his fingers, digging deep to hidden testicles waiting to be stirred back to action. Hard wired, his balls rose to the stimulation, elevating towards his shaft for active duty. Prodding and poking he shook each fistful like a cat trying to break the neck of a soft furry animal.

Juggling them, he let the shower rain over the soap tingling skin to jump alive with a hundred nerve endings sparking in response. His skin stretched hoping for continuation.

Tugging his sack in towards his tight stomach, he exposed his shaft and ran his fingers up and down, forming a ring between pointer and thumb. Soap trailed over the ridge and onto his reddening head. Massaging the tip, he spread himself to let soapy water bubble around his urethral opening. Despite all lube used, friction had worn him down from hand to shaft combat, and the soap found every sensitive spot from the tug-o-war game Seventeen had begged him to play as Seventeen charged into his ass calling out orders on how to tug or pummel.

From the heat and soap, his cock didn't so much swell as rise up in hopes of finding an orifice to insert tab A into any slot. Brian whacked it for its impertinence at suggesting it felt needs after Seventeen's slaughter, but the cock didn't care. Seventeen was history

and it had been hours.

Holding his piece by the tip, he bent it towards his perfectly triangular patch of pubic hair, the apex of the triangle pointing downward suggestively. Clients really had no need for graphical maps, but if eyes were going to travel down they might as well have

something to look at.

Brian scratched at his ridge, playing with the scar where once a flap had been. Grooves from his nails filled with soap, and his teeth gritted automatically. His neck extended, spine popping from being hunched over all evening and now finally allowed to straighten out.

He bounced his cock against his palm considering the possibilities, but he had a ways to go before such thoughts could be entertained. His ass itched in a burning way. Seventeen had probably torn his flesh digging in with coarse fingers seeking to imitate art; his own personal Goatsee picture burned onto his retina for late night replay.

Gingerly, he worked the soap down under his cock, past the perineum, and around to counteract the itchiness that had woken him up from orgasmic drugged sleep. Using his finger as a cleaning plunger, he worked his butthole open and corkscrewed his finger in to get all the nooks and crannies. Taking a pumice stone, he attacked his butt cheeks.

"Man, you really take showering seriously."

Brian levitated into the shower stream, dropping the pumice stone on his foot. "Fuck Jed. What the hell are you doing in here?"

Jed slid the bathroom door the rest of the way open, pushing the mirrored surface into the wall groove. "Can't hold it any longer."

"You've been in here forever." He moved his large form into the small space between shower and doorway, positioning himself by the toilet.

 Brian yanked the shower curtain around him, spraying water outside the shower confines. "Now? You have to go now? Couldn't you have waited a bit longer or knocked?" Brian's head peeped out from behind the curtain.

"You didn't hear me with all that water. You're such a prude. It's not like I'm going in the shower with you. I've seen it all anyway."

Jed turned sideways to face the toilet and yanked up the Hello Kitty apron he was wearing as his only clothing. From under Hello Kitty's smiling face, a warm jet stream of yellow liquid churned into the toilet.

"Jesus." Brian's head whipped behind the shower curtain.

 "I can hear you, and you shouldn't curse." Jed finished up and lowered Hello Kitty to graze the top of his thighs. His ass was completely exposed in the back under the apron strings.

"Then fucking don't burst into my bathroom."

 "Our bathroom and if you didn't spend hours scraping off your work I wouldn't have to." Jed looked at the plastic wrapped Brian.

"Why do you care anyway? I've seen you naked." Jed washed his hands and dried them slowly, making sure his fingernails were squeaky clean.

"But not in the bathroom and not when I'm showering. It's different." Brian kicked the faucet with his foot to shut off the water.

"Why?" Jed's six foot three inches was doing a good job of making the bathroom shrink precariously.

"Because it is." Brian's hand darted out trying to reach a towel.

"I hope you don't sound like such a baby when you're working. No wonder you need me."

"Get out of here."

"But you're done. I'll get you a clean towel."

"Out. Now. And don't you dare hand me a towel." Brian balled up his fist.

Jed rolled his eyes and shuffled out, sliding the door closed with a thud.

Brian stepped out of the shower, and yanked down a clean towel waiting on the shelf above the toilet. Jeez the man hotel rolled their towels and then had the audacity to act like Brian was weird one for wanting to hang a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the bathroom door.

By the time Brian stepped out of the bathroom with a towel cinched around his waist, Jed was back in the kitchen pretending to ignore him as he elegantly flipped pancakes back onto the griddle for the final browning touch.

Brian slunk into one of the two chairs pushed under their table. He noticed the textbooks he'd tossed down were now neatly piled with a note taped to them saying 'Please find me a proper home'. Jesus, Jed's a nutcase.

Brian realized the spatula had stopped hovering in mid-air and was now sliding pancakes onto plates already trimmed with sausage and eggs. Food shoveling stopped, but Jed still kept his back to him.

Fucking A. Who was being the baby now? Brian's stomach growled, demanding he cave in.

"Sorry I yelled at you, but you surprised me." Brian rolled his eyes at Jed's back.

Jed stayed facing the stove. "Putting a 'but' on the end of an apology nullifies it."

Brian's stomach erupted in a litany of growls. Goddamn it. "Sorry I'm a slob?"

Jed was silent, but delivered heavy plates to the table.

Brian eyed the food. "Am I allowed to eat your food, then?"

"Like I could stop you." Jed's chair creaked under a mass of bones and muscles as he sat down, shielding his eyes as Brian savagely undid the pristine arrangement of food items and began a conveyor belt of food to mouth.

"True."

 "Stop talking with your mouth open. It's grotesque." Jed cut his pancakes into bite-sized pieces and put easy to swallow amounts on his fork.

"Sorry."

 "You said that already," Jed swallowed each piece before spearing another.

 Brian dug his thighs into the edge of the chair. "Why do we always fight the morning after?"

"We aren't fighting."

"Good to know." Brian waited for Jed to look then rolled his eyes.

"Last night was cocky." Jed pushed a sausage around in circles.

Brian broke his hand to mouth highway system. "He tried something?"

"Hell no, not with me around. S'why I'm here. But he swaggered out of here like he had your goods and not that little thing hanging between his legs." Jed stood the sausage on its end then let it fall.

 "You weren't in the bedroom with us. You don't know what he was heaving," Brian hurried through his sentence so he could get more food in his mouth.

"Could tell. Besides you deserve better than that attitude."

"Let me get this straight, we're fighting because you're ticked off at him?" Brian finished his food and eyed the cooling nutrients still on Jed's plate. He tentatively tried forking one of Jed's pancakes. Jed hissed, but it didn't stop Brian from snagging it and swallowing it nearly whole.

"Pig."

 "You're the one to blame for making good food." Brian was angling his fork to steal more when the plate was shoved in his direction.

"Thanks."

"I just think you deserve better." Jed patted his mouth on a napkin.

"He better have paid up."

"We have the next year's book money no problem." Brian ate quickly enough that the food mixed in his mouth into a breakfast slurpy.

"Better be clean money."

"And you call me the prude. Want me to iron the bills?" Brian used his finger to lick up the last crumbs before pushing his plates back towards Jed.

"Wouldn't hurt you to bruise a finger and put those dishes in the sink you know." Jed looked askance at the plates.

"See this is what I mean. We're fighting. You know if I did that you'd yell at me for putting them in the wrong way. You're setting me up." Brian winked and stood up. "I need to get dressed."

"Don't expect me to strip your sheets and make your bed." Jed yelled after Brian's retreating back.

Guest Author: Hillary Seidl

S

ia Wright stood completely silent in the doorway. The empty coffee cup she had in hand suddenly weighed twenty pounds. Standing outside the break room she hopped back and kept silent.

“Such an odd girl. Not very personable at all,” Hailey said, “Not sure why Grayson keeps her on here.”

“She doesn’t even talk, doesn’t even smile. It’s like she is a shadow,” Delina responded.

“Oh, she smiles alright,” Hailey, said with a mocking tone, “especially when Gray is in the room.”

Delina’s voice was cutting. “Oh! I’ve seen the way she looks at him! It’s so embarrassing!” Delina giggled.

It was all Sia could take.

The hot flames of embarrassment licked her face as she turned back down the hall to the bathroom. Sia grabbed the stall door shaking it until it relented and opened. She slammed the stall door and sat on the lid pulling her knees to her chest. Her throat constricted, a sob threatened to burst forth. When had she become so apparent? It would seem that she was always doomed when it came to being social.

Sia strived for control and twirled her hair around her finger. She felt her pulse start to quicken and her face was hot to the touch. She took another deep breath as recommended by her old therapist.

In through the nose out through the mouth, imagine your inflating a basketball in your stomach.

The words were a welcome mantra she repeated them in her head.

After a few minutes, she felt better, more in control. She returned to her work area with her head down.

When Grayson stopped just outside her office, she kept quiet, and her eyes diverted from him. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was her fourth temp job in five months. She needed the money. She had responsibilities.

With another deep breath, she regained her composure. She filed reports, and set letters aside to be mailed. Her stomach growled but she didn’t want to move.

Grayson stood just beyond the threshold of her office. “How are you doing?”

She pasted a smile on her face. “Everything is fine. You’ll have the Brown report on your desk by Friday.”

He lingered in the doorway. “That’s great. Thanks, Sia.” Grayson tilted his head then continued on. Sia looked at the now empty doorframe, her heart fluttering.

Grayson was handsome with his dark blond hair, a little long in the back. The attraction was immediate —for her anyway.

He didn’t even know she was alive.

Sighing wistfully, she rose and grabbed her empty coffee cup. And to her incredible joy the lunchroom was empty. She poured herself a cup of coffee. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was the dark shadow figure. Her hands stilled and her heartbeat increased.

She closed her eyes. This was not happening. It was her imagination. Slowly, she opened her eyes and another shadow darted from right to left.

“No!” she said to the empty room. Forgetting her coffee entirely, she set the cup on the table and walked quickly. She looked back over her shoulder – and ran right into Hailey, sending them both
flying.

Sia hit the wall, but Hailey landed on her butt hard. “Ooommpphh!”

Sia bent down and offered her a hand. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” As much as Sia thought she was a snooty bitch, she was horrified at actually knocking her down.

Hailey stood up, ignoring Sia’s hand. She flipped her vibrant red hair, totally dyed, over her shoulder and starred daggers at Sia. “Ugh! You’re so clumsy!” She tugged her short skirt back down.

Sia’s back straightened at the angry words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Hailey sighed. The anger was clear in her eyes.  “Yea well, just get out of my way.” Hailey walked by, her shoulder hitting Sia’s as she stormed past.

Sia stood there trying to get a hold of her temper. The anger made her shake. She tried to breathe.

“What happened?” Delina’s nasally voice shrieked when Hailey went into her office. Both of them stood while a red faced Hailey pointed at Sia. The more Hailey talked the more she got dirty looks from Delina.

It was all that Sia could take. 

Sia’s hands clenched at her side while the helplessness and anger boiled inside of her. “I said, I was sorry,” she whispered. Her hair lifted as a great wind came out of nowhere and she watched as a cloudy line went from her through the office.

Sia watched in fascination, and horror, as the wind rose up and blew papers everywhere in Delina’s office. Books flew of the shelf, the chair was knocked over, and Hailey and Delina screamed as the intense wind continued.

Grayson came out of his office. “What’s happening out here?”  Sia’s concentration broke as Grayson ran past her. Delina’s office was now calm. No wind just a few papers settling. Delina and Hailey were standing close to each other, starring at Sia.

“I d-don’t know,” Sia sputtered, still trying to understand what had just happened. As Grayson rushed into the main room, Sia ran back to her desk and yanked the drawer open, quickly grabbed her purse. With everyone yelling and running around, she slipped out of the office quickly and quietly headed for the safest place she could think of.

The library.

Finding Ms. Wright: Sia

  

I watch a lot of paranormal shows, reality and fiction.  I love them! My must record DVR programs include Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Once Upon a Time, Ghost Adventures, My Ghost Story, I Survived Beyond and Back and more. The more evidence I see the more I’m fascinated and I want more.   Who wouldn’t want proof of an afterlife?  A popular ghost sighting in places are what people call ‘Shadow People’.  They are thought to be dangerous spirits that torment.  Ever seen something out of the corner your eye?  Fast darting shadows?  Then it could be shadow people. 

Modern day ghost hunters have captured some very intriguing video evidence of these creatures. I’ve also had experiences with them.  They are scary as hell.  My parents owned a haunted restaurant in Delta, Colorado.  The activity in the place was so high.  Sometimes I would set the tables the night before and when I would open with my dad, the placemats and glasses would be askew.  I wouldn’t understand.  How could that have happened? Who moved them around? I am still trying to answer these questions. 

The shadow people weren’t in the dining room. The shadow people were in the basement.  I remember being completely terrified at the time.  Mostly I tried to ignore it and get out of there as fast as possible.  That’s how I dealt with it. 

This was the inspiration for my part of the anthology, Finding Ms. Wright: Sia.  Whispering voices and seeing black shadows following her is the norm in the beginning of my novella.  Poor girl!  Enter the hunky hero, Andrew.  He has the gift of finding supernatural objects. It comes in very handy.   

When I write paranormal, I try to draw from my own experiences and put them down into entertaining works of fiction.  I have loved romance novels for as long as I can remember and I have loved the paranormal.  Mixing the two has been so fun! I loved writing Sia.  I hope you enjoy it! 

Thank you so much for having me here today!  Have you had experiences with the paranormal?  I would love to hear them!

Guest Author: Aubrie Dionne

Paradise 21: Space Pirates with a Chip on Their Shoulder

What if the world was ending, and you didn’t make it onto a colony ship?

The space pirates in Paradise 21 are the humans who have been left behind. Deemed “unfit” by genetic tests, or too poor to have any connections to make it aboard, they were doomed to scratch out a living in the ruin after wars, radiation, and zombies (which you’ll find out about in the prequel: A Hero Rising) decimated old Earth.

One leader emerged, James Wilfred, and he stole an unfinished colony ship to transport the people left behind on Earth to Alpha Omega, the largest operating space station meant to keep in contact with the colony ships.

Striker, the hero in Paradise 21, is directly related to James Wilfred, and all I can say is that he follows in his father’s footsteps.

Read Paradise 21 to see exactly how…

My question to you is:

What would you do if you didn’t make it onto a colony ship?

Excerpt:

“Gerald, I trust you’re doing well with your new bride. How long’s it been? A month?”

“Seems like five years to me.” He chuckled, but darkness tinged the corners of his eyes. “How can computers be wrong, eh?” He downed his glass of champagne in one desperate gulp. “You have your own ceremony coming up soon, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Barliss stifled his excitement, straightening his collar so his gold lapel pin caught just the right amount of light, and the New Dawn’s insignia of a seventeenth-century ship cutting through water rested above his right bicep.

“How you ever got paired with such a beauty…” Gerald trailed off as his own designated life partner came up and clutched his arm.

Barliss sized her up. Thick makeup covered her ruddy complexion, but nothing could cure her limp brown hair and bony nose. No matter how she stuffed the dress, the front would never be filled out in the right places. Not well enough for Barliss’ taste, anyway. Her beady eyes always had reminded him of the bats in the loading bay.

“Hello, Tilda.”

“Lieutenant Barliss, you look stellar today.”

Barliss’ eyebrows rose, questioning her appraisal. He made it a point to look stellar every day. He didn’t spend fifteen hours a week weight training for fun and games. “So do you, Tilda, my dear,” he lied, playing the game.

She giggled and squeezed Gerald’s arm.

Gerald winced as if she’d grasped him too tightly. Tilda waved to someone in the crowd and placed a wet kiss on her husband’s cheek, smearing her lipstick before slinking away. Gerald gave her a little wave and turned back to Barliss. “Like I said, you’re the lucky one.”

Aubrie’s Website:

http://www.authoraubrie.com/my-short-stories

Aubrie’s Blog: http://authoraubrie.blogspot.com/