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
Previous Post - Next Post
Today excerpts are:
The day Jasper Blue considered the catalyst to what changed his whole life started with a scare. He woke up. Of course, that wasn’t the scare, but the way he woke up was terrifying.
He woke up with a dry mouth, shaking hands, a headache, and a bout of nausea. Yeah, everyone else would have probably freaked out too, but Jasper’s first thought was What the fuck did I do last night? I didn’t fall off the wagon, did I? A feeling of absolute dread washed over him, and for a moment he felt as if he should be dead. Not because he felt so bad physically, but because he didn’t deserve to live if he’d been that stupid.
It hit him about the same time he scrambled to his feet to stumble to the bathroom, dodging his dogs, who were instantly alarmed, to throw up—Jolene had said the kids had had some twenty-four hour bug just before they came to their movie date the night before. Great.
At least there was hope it would pass fast. He didn’t usually get the full effect of these bugs.
When his stomach was empty, Jasper wobbled his way to the shower and managed to stay upright. The headache eased as his shoulders relaxed from the awkward position he’d slept in. He assumed his body had been protecting itself by making him sleep in a position only suitable for contortionists. At least that was what usually happened whenever he had as much as a cold. Ever since he was a small boy, he’d curled up into a little ball when ill. It had been cute then, but it certainly wasn’t now.
A trio of naked women posed in a circular tableau. Morgan had lost count of the number of models she’d seen, first as a student, then as a teacher. She’d always been able to detach herself, to see soft breasts and thighs as a beautiful work of art. The long expanse of a bare back and rounded buttocks were worthy of study, not just lust.
The bright lights in the studio cast bold shadows across their skin, the scent of linseed oil, turpentine, and old paper filled the air. The scratch of lead on paper told her something about the artist as she wandered the room; long, confident, sweeping strokes filling page after page, or tiny, precise, slow marks that steadily built an image. She pointed to a sketch every now and then, offering advice about the tone, the shadows, curves, and angles, her eyes glancing between the pages of her students and the models before them.
Morgan wiped her palms on her jeans and ignored the trickle of sweat running down her back. It didn’t matter where in the room she was, or which of her students she was talking to, she could feel a pair of blue eyes following her every move. Anna sat at the center of the tableau, her back against a pile of heaped cushions, her head resting along the length of her outstretched arm. The other arm lay across her stomach. Her small pink nipples puckered in the slight chill of the room, and her knee was raised, hiding her naked sex from direct view. One woman rested against Anna’s leg, and the other rested her head on Anna’s shoulder. Their limbs entwined and caressed Anna’s, creating a beautiful vignette of femininity.
She stuffed her hand into her pocket and felt the worn edge of the envelope. She rubbed her finger over the tiny raised edge of the postage stamp. She knew the date stamp was faded, but it was already burned into her brain. June thirteenth. Six weeks ago. How could one piece of paper and some ink change everything? Yet it did. Her very own harbinger of doom carried on the wings of a postage stamp. The letter had thrown open the door to every painful memory she had, and promised nothing but heartache and danger. For her, and everyone around her.
She did the only thing she could think of to save the people she loved. Three weeks ago, Morgan had told her wife that she was leaving, that she wanted a divorce. The words still burned in her throat and made her stomach churn, as did the pain she’d seen in Erin’s eyes as she’d packed her bags and slowly, quietly, closed the door behind her.
Cora gazed at the back of Sonia’s head. Her friend’s bottle- red hair seemed to get redder with each salon visit. But then maybe Cora was just feeling catty because Sonia had chosen to sitnext to the Villa’s newest bachelor, Mac Ronzio the hardware man, on their weekly van trip to the mall. Cora, sitting directly behind Sonia, watched as Sonia put the poor man through the usual initiation. She’d been at it since he’d arrived at the Villa two weeks ago. Which was interesting. Sonia usually decided within days whether a man was worthy of her time, but here she was still evaluating this Mac, giving him yet another round of what Cora liked to think of as The Dazzle Test. There were many versions of The Dazzle Test, all of them aimed at gauging the target man’s responsiveness to Sonia’s overwhelming charm, myriad talents, and extraordinary life, which ran the gamut from a yearlong torrid affair in an ashram to cattle ranching in West Texas and everything in between. This particular version of The Test involved Sonia making him endure the story of her “actress” days, how she got her big break when the lead of Anything Goes twisted an ankle and was unable to go on. But was Mac sufficiently dazzled? It was difficult to tell. He was such a well-mannered fellow, probably one of those who’d stay true to his dead wife ’til the end. He certainly mentioned her enough. Undying devotion to a dead wife wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker for Sonia, so long as the target man understood she was Diva of the Living.
The stoplight seemed unusually long. Cora craned her neck to see past Mac’s rumpled, light blue bucket hat. A stalled car in the left turn lane. John, the latest Villa driver, a young man who seemed much more suited to herding cattle than to herding old people, was just now flicking on the blinker. He was slow on the uptake and Cora hoped he wouldn’t last long. The Villa went through drivers like antacid tablets.
Sonia rested a coral-tipped finger on her cheek and said to Mac, “But here I’m talking all about me. Such a selfish girl. Are you much of a theatergoer?”
He smiled politely. “Now and then. My wife, Effie, liked to go. Bought us season tickets a couple of times.”
Sonia glanced back at Cora, an appreciative eyebrow raised. “Did you hear that, Cora? Season tickets.”
“Very impressive,” Cora said, relieved to feel the van start moving again.
Evan poked at the bizarre looking but fantastic smelling food on his plate and tried to become invisible through the sheer force of will.
It didn’t work. Brennan was still standing there, mostly naked, wearing only a ridiculously tiny pair of shorts that were probably what he exercised and did yoga in when he wasn’t doing it buck-naked.
And please, God, let me not imagine that, Evan prayed.
Brennan was leaning back with his hands braced on the countertop’s edge beside his slim hips. One foot was propped against the cabinet under the sink, and he was watching Evan like he was a newly discovered, exotic species or something. Evan just hoped Brennan wasn’t expecting to bond over their shared love of cock since, hey, it appeared they had that in common, too.
“If you have something you need to do or whatever, don’t let me keep you,” Evan muttered, taking a bite.
“What could I possibly have to do?” Brennan asked with a smirk.
“Watch TV? Put some damn clothes on? I don’t know.”
“How is it?” Brennan asked, nodding at Evan’s plate.
Evan grunted. “Edible. Kinda wish you’d stop staring at me, though.”
Evan tried to keep his eyes trained on his plate, because each time his gaze drifted upward it caught right on the fine dusting of golden peach fuzz covering Brennan’s bare right hipbone and the shallow dip just inside the protrusion and a sick part of Evan, some facet of his libido he didn’t know was so incredibly perverted, really couldn’t stop wanting to lick right there and feel that soft, fine hair against his lips.
It’s your brother. He’s your goddamned brother, Evan. Stop it. Now.
Trouble was, brother was just a word to Evan, not a reality or a feeling. It was a label. It meant next to nothing without any history there to back it up.
This journal is friends only. This entry was originally posted at http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/4473678.html. If you are not friends on this journal, Please comment there using OpenID.