If at the end of the treasure hunt there will be still unmatched excerpts the giveaway will go to the one who matched more books.
The books are:
A Hunted Man by Jaime Reese
A Kingdom Lost by Barbara Ann Wright
A Place for Cliff by Talon ps
A Special Kind of Folk by Barry Brennessel
About Face by VK Powell
Ancient House of Cards by Bryan T. Clark
Another Healing by M. Raiya
Antidote by Jack L. Pyke
Because of Jade by Lou Sylvre
Beloved Pilgrim by Christopher Hawthorne Moss
Better Than Friends by Lane Hayes
Bird of Paradise by G.J. Paterson
Bite of the Recluse by Azalea Moone & Anais Morgan
Bonds of Denial by Lynda Aicher
Brokenhearted by Cate Ashwood
Camellia by Caitlin Ricci & Cari Z.
Carnal Sacraments by Perry Brass
Caught! By JL Merrow
Chasing the Dragon by Kate Sherwood
Chip off the Ice Block Murder by Jessie Chandler
Clean Slate by Andrea Bramhall
Corruption by Eden Winters
Desire at Dawn by Fiona Zedde
Dirty Beautiful Words by Brooklyn Brayl
Dissonance by Shira Anthony
Dudek by Taylor James
Educating Simon by Robin Reardon
Fight by Kelly Wyre
Filthy Acquisitions by Edmond Manning
Firestorm by Rory Ni Coileain
Forever Hold His Peace by Rebecca Cohen
Forgive Us by Lynn Kelling
Fractured by Mickie B. Ashling
Freak Camp: Posts From a Previously Normal Girl by Jessica V. Barnett
FutureDyke by Lea Daley
Games Boys Play by Zoe X. Rider
Gathering Storm by Alexa Land
Gin & Jazz 1- 4 (4 novellas: Hollywood Bound, Razzle Dazzle, Tarnished Glitter and Starring Role) by Morticia Knight
Girls Don't Hit by Geonn Cannon
Great Pleasures by Edward Southgate
Greg Honey by Russ Gregory
Happy Independence Day by Michael Rupured
Hard Pressed by Sharon Maria Bidwell
Hell & High Water (THIRDS, Book #1) by Charlie Cochet
Highfell Grimoires by Langley Hyde
His Fair Lady by Kimberly Gardner
Hoaley Inexplicable by Declan Sands
How Still My Love by Diane Marina
Hungry for Love by Rick R. Reed
If I Die Before I Wake by Liz McMullen
If We Shadows by D.E. Atwood
Ink & Flowers by J.K. Pendragon
It's Like This by Anne O'Gleadra
Lab Rat's Love by Ana J. Phoenix
Lesbian Crushes at School: A Diary on Growing Up Gay in the Eighties by Natasha Holme
Let the Lover Be by Sheree L. Greer
Like Jazz by Heather Blackmore
Love and Salvage: Loving Emmett by Mathew Ortiz
Love Is A Stranger by John Wiltshire
Love You Forever by Amelia Bishop
Lovers and Liars by Paul Alan Fahey
Mark of Cain by Kate Sherwood
Masquerade by Joy Lynn Fielding
Measure of Peace by Caethes Faron
Mirage by Tia Fielding
More Than Everything by Cardeno C.
Motel. Pool. By Kim Fielding
Murder and the Hurdy Gurdy Girl by Kate McLachlan
Murder on the Mountain by Jamie Fessenden
My Brother's Lover by Lynn Kelling
Nightingale by Andrea Bramhall
No Angel by Clare London
Omorphi by C. Kennedy
On Archimedes Street by Jefferson Parrish
Paradise at Main and Elm by Barry Brennessel
Paris Connection by J.P. Bowie
Passage by Evey Brett
Pick Up the Pieces by Tinnean
Piper by Leona Carver
Rapture, Sins of the Sinners by Fran Heckrotte & A.C. Henley
Rarely Pure and Never Simple by Angel Martinez
Rasputin's Kiss by L.M. Somerton
Rest Home Runaways by Clifford Henderson
Resurrection Man by K.Z. Snow
Return of an Impetuous Pilot by Kate McLachlan
Rocky Mountain Freedom by Vivian Arend
Running Through A Dark Place by Michael J. Bowler
Saving Liam by DP Denman
Serpentine Walls by CJane Elliott
Shades of Sepia by Anne Barwell
Shameful Desires 3: Unbound by P.J. Proud
Shirewode by J Tullos Hennig
Silent by Sara Alva
Slide by Garrett Leigh
Something Like Spring by Jay Bell
Splinters by Thorny Sterling
Stitch by Eli Easton, Sue Brown, Jamie Fessenden & Kim Fielding
Summerville by H.L. Sudler
The 42nd Street Jerking-off Club by Mykola Dementiuk
The Calm Before by Neena Jaydon
The Dead Past by Kate Aaron
The Empath by Jody Klaire
The Engineered Throne by Megan Derr
The Family We Make by Kaje Harper
The Genealogy of Understanding by Daniel M. Jaffe
The House on Hancock Hill by Indra Vaughn
The Last Conception by Gabriel Constans
The Line by J.D. Horn
The Mating of Michael by Eli Easton
The Memory of Blood & Lotuses by E.E. Ottoman
The Opera House by Hans M. Hirschi
The River Within by Baxter Clare Trautman
The Seventh Pleiade by Andrew J. Peters
The Thief Taker by William Holden
This Is Not a Love Story by Suki Fleet
Tournament of Shadows by S.A. Meade
True Stories Too: People and Places From My Past by Felice Picano
Turnbull House by Jess Faraday
You're Always in the Last Place You Look by T.N. Gates
Zenith by Arshad Ahsanuddin
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Today excerpts are:
They fell on him like hungry wolves, and there was no escape. All six men pounced on Jarvis, beat him, slapped him, kicked him, spat on him, choked him, and worst of all, they raped him repeatedly.
At first there had been some confusion as to what Thom intended for Jarvis. Pat, David, Blake, Edgar and Ken, all stood frozen as Thom pointed to the shrubbery. “Move him!”
“What the hell are you going to do?” Blake asked, his eyes shifting to Jarvis.
“I’m going to give him exactly what he wants!” Thom retorted. “I’m sick of this shit!”
“Sick of what?” Blake protested. “You don’t even know him!”
Thom got in his face. “He was at the party, asshole! The one with the fucking faggots, remember?”
Blake started to back away, his fear of Thom more apparent than ever. He turned to leave. “I’m not getting into this shit. I’m going home.”
“Oh, what, you going pussy on me, Blake? You a fucking fag now, soldier? You walk away and I swear to God I’ll break your fucking jaw!”
Blake froze, his eyes full of fear. Thom saw Blake’s surrender and reveled in it, then spun on his heels and marched back to Jarvis. Removing his belt, he wrapped it once tightly around his hand. Jarvis, who had been attempting to edge away quietly to the main road, knew that of this confrontation he would not come out the victor. What had possessed him to leave the party as drunk as he was? What made him believe he could make it home in this condition?
“Where do you think the problem is located?” he asked.
“My right hip.”
“Roll over onto your left side, please,” Harland told Prescott. “Facing me.”
The man did as Harland asked, and of course it was impossible for his... anatomy... to remain in place when he did so. It wasn’t unusually large, but it still flopped obscenely against the back of Harland’s hand where it rested at the edge of the table, causing him to jerk back involuntarily.
“I’m sorry,” Prescott said, adjusting his shirt to cover himself.
“That’s quite all right. I was... startled.”
There was nothing Harland could do about the fact that he would have to touch Prescott’s hip, however. He placed his hand on it and was surprised to find it warm. For a moment, he wondered if he were touching actual flesh—Prescott’s body had to begin somewhere—but no.
There was a seam just an inch above where his hand lay. Unable to stop himself, Harland slid his hand downward over the hip and onto the leg. He noticed that it grew cooler as he descended. He slid his hand back to the seam and traced it with a finger, until he encountered hair toward the front of Prescott’s body—pubic hair. With a start, Harland yanked his hand away again.
“The seam follows my inguinal ligament,” Prescott said.
“That’s what the doctor calls it. The crease between my stomach and my pelvis.”
“Ah. Yes. I see that.” What was disturbing Harland more than the touch of pubic hair was the involuntary swelling it had caused in his own trousers. He’d never thought of himself as... that type of man. It was true that he’d avoided women, preferring to live as a bachelor. But that didn’t necessarily make him a mandrake, did it?
He had no choice but to return to his examination of the seam and hope he could prevent himself from becoming fully aroused. It would be impossible to hide that in the trousers he was wearing. But it wasn’t going to be easy. As he followed the seam around to the back, he saw that it cut down alongside Prescott’s buttocks and under them, following the crease there. Part of him was tempted to ask Prescott what the doctor’s name for that crease was, but he thought better of it. The mere thought of being that close to Prescott’s arse was making it difficult for him to breathe, and he felt his groin stiffening further.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Love,” Greer mused. “Maybe once upon a long, long time ago.”
“He or she?”
“Didn’t turn out so well.”
Greer looked over the top of her glasses. “You’re relentless. Maybe you should be the reporter.”
Kate held an imaginary microphone to Greer’s mouth. “Well?”
“Long and short of it, she was Palestinian. Her parents were killed in the Suez War and she was basically raised by a country, an ideology. I didn’t agree that all Jews should be wiped off the map, and she couldn’t love someone who didn’t share her passion for reclaiming the homeland. Pretty much end of story.”
“How’d you get together in the first place?”
“We didn’t talk much. I was stationed in Jordan, during the Gulf War. We didn’t see each other often, and when we did . . . well, it wasn’t to talk.”
“What was her name?”
“How’d you meet?”
“In a restaurant. We kept staring at each other and when I went outside for a cigarette she followed me.”
It was easy to remember the pine shade and hot wind, the late afternoon smell of dust and resin, then later, the breeze cool with dusk, sighing a veil of curtain over Rasha’s glistening body.
“Was there anyone else?”
“No. Not like that. I’ve loved a lot of people since but I was never in love.”
“Don’t you think it is?”
“No. Rasha was . . . a miracle, all-consuming. Being with her was more of an obsession than love. It was wild and crazy and for a while I’d thought I’d die without her. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything but it was just pure passion. Love’s a different beast.”
“So you weren’t in love with her.”
“Probably not. We were like tigers mating. It was fast and loud and furious but it couldn’t have lasted. There was no foundation other than heat.”
Speaking of letters, he hadn’t read Christy’s three-page letter. He forgot that he had it and felt guilty for not remembering. Had Christy expected a reply from him? He got out of bed and rummaged through his backpack until he found it. He turned on the bedside lamp and began to read.
Below is my class schedule as requested.
Michael made it to the beginning of page three and faltered. Christy could write with so much feeling, and if this was what went through his mind constantly, it was no wonder he was angry and afraid most of the time. Michael mustered his will and forged on.
I have endured horrors you cannot imagine. I liken my past to the young life of Ivan the Terrible. The political figures surrounding him thought he would be a threat to them when he grew old enough to rule Russia. In their attempt to humble him and prevent him from ever believing he could control them, they abused him mercilessly from a young age. Rather than humbling Ivan, it made him indescribably cruel. By the time he was ten, he began throwing dogs off the castle walls only to see if they could walk on four broken legs. I often wonder why I have not become so.
Much of my past, I cannot tell you. Some because I have yet to be able to put it to words, most because I simply do not want you to know. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for my secrecy. While selfish, it is not without concern for you in mind.
Because of you, Michael, my heart begins to grow wings.
Christy’s fury now made sense. Christy thought he’d read the letter and, rather than accepting Christy’s story at Christy’s pace, he thought he’d gone to Rob for more information. Michael’s heart ached for Christy even more, and he desperately wanted to help him, to ease the pain and horror of his past, to give him a new beginning and a life to look forward to.
He got out of bed, went to his desk, and opened his laptop. He sat for a measured moment. Christy would feel betrayed if Michael tried to find out what happened to him. Yet, after this afternoon and Rob’s nonanswers, he felt powerless to help Christy. And what would Christy do if Michael accidentally did something to trigger some horrible memory? Would Christy do something extreme, or would he just fall apart? He drummed his fingers on his thigh, then closed his laptop. Christy would tell him when he was ready. He’d be patient and pray like hell that he didn’t make a mistake. He rose and went to the kitchen. He set Christy’s three-page letter in the center of the table with a sticky note that said READ THIS and set his father’s paperweight on it. He took another sticky note and jotted Christy’s schedule and room numbers down, then headed to bed.
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