Jane's here today with a red-hot contest for a free read - you don't want to miss this.
Read on for details on how to win and for a sneak peek into her ebook I'll Be Your Last. :)
*** CONTEST ALERT *** CONTEST ALERT *** CONTEST ALERT ***
Remember, if you'd care to leave a comment along with your e-mail address, I'll choose a random poster to receive a gift card from Amazon for a free e-book I'll Be Your Last.
Thanks to Tina for giving me this opportunity to honor the Supreme Court's recent decision in favor of same sex marriages throughout this country. I'm featuring my gay Chicago cop novel. Two cops recognize their attraction to each other. Mack fights it out of fear of discovery of his sexuality. Romantic-minded Woody, helpless to resist, pursues the sexy, remote cop.
All the way back in 1999, a Chicago minister on the north side where I lived was suspended from his church for performing gay weddings. I wrote a letter to the Chicago Sun-Times.
All you need is love -
I find it very odd that society glorifies movies and TV shows with bombings, shootings, stabbings and other acts of violence. But a minister who performs a marriage ceremony for two human beings who want to profess their love and commitment for each other is hated and reviled. I support the Rev. Gregory Dell and people like him who prize love and caring over hate and violence.
A decade and a half later, and in light of the U.S. Supreme Court's June 26, 2015 decision for same sex marriages to go forward in the entire country, I again offer my love, respect, and support to the GLBT community.
My small contribution has been to write stories and a novel starring same sex partners. His, Hers & His is an M/F/M ménage short, Educating Eris is an F/F super short, one of two stories in Scorching Mini Tales.
I'll Be Your Last, an M/M novel, was published a few years ago by Siren. Here are two excerpts, one R-rated, one humorous and sweet, from I'll Be Your Last. If you'd care to leave a comment along with your e-mail address, I'll choose a random poster to receive a gift card from Amazon for a free e-book I'll Be Your Last.
Life dealt Mack Penchant a raw deal. He's hidden his sexuality, the secret he's carried since he was a teen, through the Marine Corps, and now as an undercover cop. The only relationships he believes possible for himself is the furry kind, with his dog Kiki. One young cop, though, drives him to a frenzy, and he fights his passions and needs every step of the way.
Woody Kane’s gaydar spots Mack the moment they meet. And even though Mack rejects him, Woody lusts after the perfect masculine body and wants him in his bed. Woody believes in commitment. Mack makes it clear he does not. Can Woody prove to Mack that he's worthy of love? After all, he adopted a rescue dog. Isn't that a start?
What peril will it take for Mack to accept Woody's love and join him in a committed relationship?
Back in the squad room, Mack watched the kid talk with the others. Heat crawling through his belly and balls, inching down the insides of his thighs, he knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself diving right into deep shit. The kid looked innocent as a baby, but Mack’s reaction to Woody Kane was hot as fire. Innocence and sex. He tried to ignore the twist in his gut, needed to ignore the pretty boy’s presence. Lusting after the kid and letting it show would destroy the life he’d built for himself.
At the end of shift, the team converged on a cop bar a block from the station, open early, very early in the morning, to let off some adrenaline before going home. The bar was much less dingy than the squad room and a lot warmer. The owner, a former cop, knew what the guys needed after a shift—a secure place to wind down after an op, unwatered drinks, and some comfort snacks. A wooden bar took up the long side of the narrow space. Sparkling mirrors behind it reflected glasses and bottles of booze. Neon signs advertised popular beers. A jukebox filled the back corner playing songs from the fifties to the present. Wooden booths marched down the side opposite the bar, tables down the center. Two factory workers just off their own third shift hunkered together at the bar. Otherwise, the cops had the place to themselves.
The team took over a booth and pulled a table over to make room for everyone. Mack glanced at the familiar faces of Arne, Rich, and Sam. They slumped in their seats, elbows leaning on the table. Sam Cooley rubbed at his big face and ended up fingering the stud in his ear.
The kid straddled a chair, bracing muscled, hairy forearms on the back. Mack caught himself staring but took a moment longer than was wise to look away. Jean-clad thighs jutted out on either side of the seat. His jaw clenched hard in arousal at the stock-masculine pose. How would all that sinew and muscle feel clamped around his waist? He had to suck in a breath, praying none of the guys could read his mind. Gulping his beer, he shifted his gaze and focused on the bottle’s label as if it imparted the most important information in the world.
His deeply-rooted sexual desires had always been at odds with his work life. The Marines and cops were not always known as the most tolerant of professions, but he’d loved the power and pride of the military. It had led him to police work, to the protection of the most vulnerable in society. This meant he’d had to hide a big part of his life, especially at work. If another cop was gay, he didn’t want to know about it. His privacy was important.
These days he did his prowling out of town where no one knew him. He was king of one-night stands, not even one night, just an hour. That was enough time to fuck a sweet, tight ass. No kissing and nothing else involving intimacy. Shooting his wad into another guy, a tight chute contracting around his cock, and releasing his frustration was his only goal.
Was Woody’s cock thick, too? His hardening penis throbbed inconveniently, eyelids drooping to half-mast. Damn. Mack’s gaze dipped to the other man’s feet. He suppressed a laugh at the unreliable connection between foot and cock size. But damn, the kid has big feet. He fought the fantasy of clamping his lips around the pretty boy’s dick and sucking every ounce of cum out of him.
It might be time for another trip out of town since he had the next couple days off. His sensitive cock surged in his jeans, shoving at his zipper in anticipation, a drop of pre-cum oozing warmly from its tip. Thankfully, the bar was dark, and no one would notice the wet spot on the front of his pants. Although, after an adrenaline-charged op, hard-ons were not that uncommon. Soldiers, cops, firemen, all were familiar with that state. Fucking another ass would make him forget Woody Kane’s.
"Woody, do you know where Penchant is?"
He stifled a sigh at Fred's question. This was just wrong. He couldn't work like this, always dreading the sight of Mack or the possibility of being teamed with him. He needed to make a decision about a transfer. "No," he snapped, then decided he'd better chill. "Haven't seen him all day."
"I need you to pick up these two." Fred handed him mug shots.
"I'll get someone else to team with. I have no idea where Mack is."
"I don't like this. He's not answering his cell or his pager. Swing by his place and see if he's there. If he's not, let me know."
Son of a bitch, Woody fumed. Now he could add babysitting to his resume. And his niece, Evie, was much more pleasant to be with.
Woody drove down the street. Two-flats and low-rise apartment buildings lined each side. Pulling in next to the curb, he spotted Mack strolling easily along the sidewalk. Last night's snow had been shoveled off the cement, but it looked like he had a big snowball at his feet.
Good Lord, it was a dog. Popping out of his car, he leaned back against the door, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited. Mack didn't see him at first.
"Are you kidding me? It looks like you have one of my sister's old fuzzy bedroom slippers there."
Mack's head came up, at first surprised, then obviously scowling at him. "Shut up."
Woody chuckled. "Is he yours?" Surely, he was walking the little white fluff ball for an old lady neighbor.
"Yeah, she's mine. Got a problem with that?"
"Touchy, touchy, man. I'm just having a hard time seeing you with such a…" He didn't think he'd better finish that sentence. Mack looked murderous.
"You weren't supposed to see her."
Woody took that as a sharp jab to the heart. It was pretty clear Mack had no intention of ever opening up. Not even to let on that he owned a dog. Stunned into silence, he listened as Mack explained.
"I got her from a shelter. She kind of picked me. I don't know why," he blurted abruptly.
The day was cold and clear with bright sun and a sky so blue it hurt your eyes. Woody couldn't see Mack's expression behind the aviators. "What's her name?" he asked in a small voice, sensing it was the best way to keep Mack talking. Maybe this was the way into him.
"Kiki?" Woody squatted down and ruffled the hair over her neck and around her ears. "Sorry for calling you a bedroom slipper. You're much cuter than that."
"Yeah. She was four when I got her, and it was too late to change her name," he added almost defensively.
"Is this why you leave so fast?" The words were out before he could stop them.
Partly. Woody paused, but Mack didn't elaborate.
"I have to walk her around the block. She hasn't done her business yet."
"Why are you here, Kane?"
"Oh, yeah. Fred tried to reach you. Don't you have your phone?"
"Jesus. I'm off duty. It's upstairs."
"Okay, okay. No big deal."
"What's going on?"
Woody pulled out the mug shots. "We have to pick these guys up."
"Okay. Come on, Kiki. Be a good girl and get it done. I've got to get you home."
This time Woody couldn't hold back his laughter, and he was gratified to see Mack smile. He hoped that meant the world hadn't come to an end because his care for his dog had been discovered. As they paced behind Kiki, Woody asked, "What do you mean she picked you?"
Mack took a deep breath, looked out toward the street for a moment, and said, "She came right up to me and squatted to take a piss."
"Got your attention, I guess."
"Yup. Luckily, I got away in time, but then she put her paws on my leg with her tail whipping madly back and forth until I picked her up." He shook his head. "I don't really know what made me go into the shelter. I could hear the barking inside when I walked by."
"I could see you with a Labrador or a shepherd."
"Too much alpha testosterone in one apartment." Mack shrugged.
"That I can believe. With this one, I think she's top dog."
"Yup," Mack agreed. "No doubt about that, huh Kiki?"
Woody, even though he'd sworn off thinking about a relationship with Mack, was thoroughly charmed by their few moments walking the dog. It felt good. No pressure, so sexual tension. Dare he think friendship?
He waited in the car while Kiki was settled back in her apartment. Mack took the passenger seat armed, cell phoned up, and ready to roll. "Do the other guys know about her?"
"No, and they're not going to, are they?" he responded with a menacing glance.
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality
Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/1DfiXkP