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Living Life your own way


So many times I have people ask me what kind of books I write. What do I say? Paranormal, Romance, Erotic? Just how much do I go into what I love to do?

I’ve noticed that throughout the year and a half I have been published I am less and less shy about it. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t shout from the rooftops or anything like that but I do proudly tell people more than I did before.

This really came to my attention a couple of weeks ago. I have the biggest supporters I could ever ask for in my family. My husband tells everyone! His friend’s wives have become some of my biggest fans. My dad (who is an aspiring author) goes even more into detail and gives my cards out with my email address.

I used to keep my personal life separate from my writing life. It was just the way it was. I kept my social network separated with different profiles and so one.

I’m so over that now!

My facebook page has a wonderful mixture of family, old friends, and fans. I have bought and proudly wear my Total-E-Bound hoodie at work, carry a tote bag with my book cover on it, and I won’t even go into detail about my computer room. Each cover is proudly displayed for the world to see!

I don’t hide anymore about what I write. I like hot sex scenes in my book. I enjoy M/M loving books. I’m crazy about threesome/menage books. If I like these there has to be others out there to.

Someone’s buying the books!

I still get a little embarrassed sometimes. My husband and brother-in-law joke about the thrusting in my books, my mother-in-law has seen the covers, and worst of all- my step mom read the end of one of my Menage books.

When the Caught in the Middle Anthology was released in print I gave one book away. To my dad. My biggest fan. Of course I signed it for him and he proudly displays it on the coffee table.

So I guess it was only a matter of time before someone in my family (other than my sisters) read it.

But there comes a time in ones life when we have to be comfortable in our own skin. In the way we live our lives. We please no one but ourselves and takes care of our loved ones.

Living life your own way. If everyone did this the world would be a much happier place. It wouldn’t matter if you were gay, or bi, or straight. It would only matter what your character said about you.

That said I am overly excited that my third Menage book has been released this week. Did I say how much I love Menage books, Lol!

Bid High is a Lust Bites short story that was fun from the minute I started to write. Easy going and just plain hot I let myself go and wrote this one just for me. Here is a little about the book. I hope you can pick up a copy.


Buy Link-

Book Blurb-

A bachelor auction, a plan, and a night that will change everything.

Amber Wilson is tired of her boring life. She craves something more than just the average day ho-hum. When her best friend gets tickets to the hottest event in town, Amber sees her chance to live wild for one night.

Thomas Baldwin and Jake Grant have watched Amber from a far. They know she is the one woman who can complete the life they've made for themselves. The woman who will accept their love for each other while filling the hole that remains.

The plan - get the auction tickets to Amber's friend, get her to bid and win Thomas, then use every trick in the book to seduce her into becoming theirs.



“You didn’t!” Amber Wilson was shocked. In disbelief, she stared at her two best friends.
Trish nodded. “I did!”
Jessica laughed with Trish. “It wasn’t easy either. The auction has been sold out for months.”
“I’m not going!” Amber argued. They really expected her to go to an auction, bid on a stranger and have sex with him? Her best friends should know her better than that.
“You’re going,” Trish told her sternly. Then Amber watched with horror as Trish took the tickets from her purse.
Amber tried a different angle. “You can’t afford those!” She was not going.
“Actually I didn’t. They were…a gift. And you two are my dates.”
Jessica stirred her coffee. “We don’t need dates. We buy them there.” She giggled.
Taking a drink of her coffee, Amber tried to come up with another excuse. “I can’t afford the men there.”
Her two friends exchanged amused smiles. “It’s for charity. A very good charity. And we all know you’re loaded anyway.”
Amber sighed, knowing no excuse would be good enough. “I’d be so embarrassed.”
Reaching out a hand, Jessica patted her arm. “We’ll be there for support. I’m sorry we had to do it this way but you need to get out there again.”
“It’s been three years, honey,” Trish added.
“I know how long it’s been,” she snapped, not wanting to dwell too much on why it had been three years. “And it’s not that I’m not ready, I just haven’t met anyone I find…interesting.”
“Maybe Friday night you will,” Trish pointed out gently.

Hope you enjoyed the peek-

Today one lucky person has received a free copy of Bid High. As part of my April contest that ended yesterday I am proud to announce the winner for the Bid High Contest-

Lucky 4750

So Congratulations to her for winning the April contest. For contest information, updates on books, and the latest happenings be sure to check out my website and drop by my blog.

Crissy Smith

Romance on the 'WILD' side...


Finding Pandora...

Earlier this week, the number one best selling movie, ever, was released on DVD and it appears that Avatar is going to blow the records away as much in the home theatre environment, as it did on the big screen. But why is this movie so appealing?

Of course, if you're one of the millions of people who have seen Avatar first hand, you already know the answer. But for those of you who have resisted the lure of the alien planet inhabited by "little blue monkeys" you might be wondering what the big deal really is? Well, in a single word... world-building.

Movies and novels are alike in many ways. Of course the main difference is the ability to actually 'see' your world come to life in a movie, versus an author, who has to create the right words, the perfect comparisons and nuances to make the alien planet jump off the pages. Well, hands down, the creator of Avatar has certainly accomplished this.

Avatar is a bounty of unique and astounding creatures and creations that leaves you breathless, and almost hollow that you aren't really part of that world. It draws you in until you aren't certain whether the world is make-believe, or if you're really standing in the midst of something so awe-inspirering, you hope the dream never ends.

Now you might be wondering why I'm chatting about a movie, when this is an author's post. Well, before a movie becomes a visual experience, a writer has thought it out and written it down on paper, or on a computer. Whether it's a screenplay or a full-length novel, it has to amaze people enough that they want to make the jump from written to video.

Many times, you'll hear folks saying... man that wasn't as good as the book... and I think that's where author's really shine. Unlike videos, books aren't limited by technology. Author's don't rely on someone else to bring their creation to make their world a reality. Their words... their descriptions are all that are necessary to immerse someone into a place they'd never dreamed of. They can transcend normal conventions and show the reader possibilities that are in the realm of the impossible, yet seem all too real on the written page.

But what's really amazing about Pandora is the extent at which viewers mourn their inability to become part of the imaginary world. It's been reported that depression is a common side effect of watching the movie, especially for those that are repeat viewers. Blogs have been created on the intricacies of the world and what it'd be like to be one of The People. I can only imagine that soon, we'll see Avatar conventions, with hundreds of people bathed in blue paint becoming the new version of "trekies" we saw and are still seeing. Avatar is fast becoming the fad of the 21st century.

Many times I see a review for a book, where the reviewer admitted they just didn't want the book to end. I think that might be the single best tell of whether an author has really done their job. If your readers can't stand the thought of losing touch with the characters and/or the world you've created, then you've succeeded in giving a reader an experience they won't soon forget.

But when you are successful... what happens next?

Reading about all these fans who are having trouble living in our world instead of the paradise of Pandora made me wonder what makes Pandora so appealing. Okay, let's forget the fact that Sam Worthington is too hot for words and concentrate on the less obvious. After all, there are more than a few creatures that would love to have you for lunch. So why the desire to live there?

I think the secret of Pandora is the depth of connection the People have with their environment. Many of us live in cities or work in office buildings where the only 'green' we see is the token tree amidst a sea of concrete. I think many of us are now mourning our departure from our native roots. So what's the solution?

Finding your own Pandora...

And it's far easier than you'd think. Everyone has a place, or a song, or a book that makes them feel connected in the most basic levels. Where they can block out the rest of the world and connect with what's important to them. That's what Pandora is really about. Finding your own peace and being true to it. For me, Pandora is in the forest on a run, or hidden in the pages of a great book. It might surprise me in the lyrics of a new song, or smile back at me in the eyes of my children. It's everywhere... we need only to open our eyes....and see.

Here's to finding your own Pandora. Do you have a special place, a certain song that always brings you back into focus? I'd love to hear about it. See you next month.

Romancing adventure at a time.


Gay Pride

Hi everyone,

I have a new e-book coming out next Monday.

If you like the bratty subs from any of the previous books, Gay Pride one might be one for you!

Here’s the blurb:

A naked submissive and a rainbow coloured flag, what gay dominant could resist?

Crenshaw hasn’t had much time to hit the leather clubs since he got really involved in the gay pride movement, but when he finds a drunken submissive standing on his doorstep wearing nothing more than a rainbow coloured flag, it’s obviously time for him to get back into the game.

Jayden might not be really into the whole gay pride thing, but he’s very proud of his plan to get Crenshaw’s attention. All he has to do now, is convince the older man to keep him around once he’s sobered up.

And here’s a quick excerpt:

The young man was naked, bar the rainbow coloured flag. He’d wrapped the material around his shoulders and draped it over his body, but as the wind caught at the edge of the fabric it was impossible to miss just how bare he was behind the scant covering.

Mr. William Crenshaw looked his visitor up and down and quickly came to the conclusion that he’d never seen him before in his life. He’d have remembered a face like that. Bright blue eyes peeked out from behind a messy mop of blond hair as the breeze blew the several golden strands across the boy’s face.

As he reached up to push his hair out of the way, the boy almost lost his grip on his flag. Crenshaw caught a glimpse of beautiful lines of slim muscle before the younger man pulled the fluttering fabric back into place. He’d have remembered a body like that too.


Crenshaw pulled his attention back up to the other man’s eyes. “Hello.” He waited for the other man to say something else, perhaps even to present some explanation of why he was standing on his doorstep. The guy offered him a hopeful little smile, but that seemed to be the only contribution he intended to make to the conversation.

Holding back a sigh, Crenshaw looked past the man who’d rung his door bell and glanced both ways along the quiet street. The car he expected to see parked a little way down the road wasn’t there. At least, there was an unfamiliar car, but it didn’t contain any of the men he’d assumed that it would.

On the positive side, the vehicle didn’t contain any paparazzi either. That was something to be grateful for, at least.

Crenshaw’s visitor turned and followed his gaze. “Were you expecting someone else, sir?” He sounded quite worried about the possibility.

“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” He’d actually been quite content with the prospect of some peace and solitude after a day filled with meetings crammed full of men who thought their point would carry more weight if it was shouted very loudly.

A relieved light filled the younger man’s eyes. He smiled as he shrugged his shoulders in an effort to stop the flag from slipping away again. Crenshaw took a deep breath and resisted the temptation to let it out as a sigh. When the man facing him looked so young and clueless, it was hard not to feel old. The flag bearer couldn’t have been far into his twenties. His nervousness made him appear even younger.

“Exactly which of the leather clubs are you attempting to join?” Crenshaw asked with as much patience as he could muster. He hadn’t heard anything about any new subs being hazed in anywhere that weekend. Although, it had been so long since he’d found time to hit the clubs and play, it was hardly surprising that he’d lost track of what had been pencilled into the local kinky calendar.

The relief drained out of the younger man’s eyes to be replaced with confusion. “Sir?”

The honorific implied that he had some tiny clue about the world he was trying to work his way into but, if Crenshaw was any judge, that was the full extent of his knowledge. Whatever idiot thought the boy was ready to try and become a formal member of any club deserved to be soundly whipped—unless they were a masochist, of course, in which case they deserved to be soundly barred from the pleasure of a whipping for the foreseeable future.

The boy rocked back onto his heels. He righted himself just a moment before Crenshaw reached out to keep him on his feet. “You’re drunk.”

The younger man gave the matter considerable analysis. “Yes, sir.”

Crenshaw ground his teeth. “Who sent you here?” If nothing else, he would have to find out which club the sender belonged to—if only so he could make his opinions on getting young men drunk and sending them off to submit to strangers very clear.

If this was any indication of the way standards had slipped while he’d been focusing on other things, there was no doubt that he’d have to find the time to visit the clubs more often.

Being discreet about his taste in leather was one thing, but he was damned if he was going to let a certain type of reporter keep him out of the clubs forever—especially not when the local scene seemed to be going to the dogs in his absence.

Thanks for reading!

Kim Dare.
Kink, love and a happy ending. Do you Dare?


I Am Woman…and I Am Grateful

I was having a glass of wine with a girlfriend in Olde Town, Arvada, a quaint historical area near my Denver-area home.

We were talking about how fortunate we are to be Western women. In many parts of the world, we wouldn’t be allowed to go out to a cafĂ© alone, sit back with a cabernet, enjoy the sun, and talk about whatever we wanted to. We had serious discussions, and we laughed, and we counted our blessings.

One of the biggest freedoms we sometimes take for granted is the opportunity to live in a more enlightened age than our ancestors. (And here’s to future generations who will live in an even more enlightened age.)

Did you know…?

In 1873 Congress passed a law that banned birth control information as obscene.

That well into the 1960s, most US states had laws against contraception?

Margaret Sanger, after having lost her mother at age 50 (and 18 pregnancies!), decided there had to be a better way. Sanger was arrested for mailing out her magazine, the Woman Rebel. The magazine discussed contraception and there, was illegal. The troublemaker went on to open America’s first family planning clinic. It was shut down within ten days.

It wasn’t until 1938 that a US judge lifted the obscenity ban on birth control. But contraception remained illegal (even more married couples!).

Believe it or not, it wasn’t until 1965 that that the Supreme Court of the United States overturned laws that prohibited contraction among married couples.

Are things perfect now…? Definitely not. But our books are available to readers worldwide. We are part of the leading edge, writers who encourage women to ask for what they want and be bold in it.

Margaret Sanger, rebel outlaw writer that she was, went on to form the American Birth Control League (which eventually became Planned Parenthood).

I feel fortunate to be a Western woman in 2010. Here’s hoping that the continued efforts of brave men and women everywhere will make it better to be a woman worldwide…soon.


Demons are IN

For quite a while, vampires have ruled the roost when it comes to paranormal romance. But the market can only take so many bloodsuckers. It's been coming for quite some time, but I've noticed that demons are the new vamps.

Maybe it's that 2012 is nearing, and folks are thinking hard about predictions of apocalypse and the end of the world. Who knows?

But if you've got a demon, readers are interested. Electronic books and small presses have been doing paranormal and demons for years before mainstream romance presses jumped on board. Used to be that anything dark was automatically considered bad. But the new school of thought seems to be redeemable bad boys. Really bad boys, like the kind that steal blood and souls.

So here's to celebrating "good" demons. A trend that I don't think is going to end anytime soon. And why should it? It's fun.


Celt Fest Cuba here we come!

My husband, sixteen year old son and I just got back from an incredible week in Cuba. A friend of ours had organized an event called Celt Fest Cuba and we went down to take part in workshops and sessions. I have a degree in French and Spanish, so I was looking forward to reviving my linguistic skills as well.

But why a Celtic festival in Cuba, you might ask? Many people from the Spanish provinces of Galicia and Asturias, which are both part of the group of Celtic nations, make up part of the population of Cuba. Many Spaniards came to Cuba in the 18th, 19th and early 20th century with close to a million arriving between 1900 and 1930. So what does that have to do with Celtic music? Many of their musicians play gaitas or bagpipes.

The Irish are also part of the makeup of this amazing country. “Historically, most of the Irish who came to Cuba arrived from the US for the construction of railways used to transport products to and from the sugar plantations in the latter part of the 19th century, and for the construction in 1902 of the 1,000-km trans-Cuba railroad. But others had been swept here in earlier currents. Some came up the Antilles from Montserrat where they had been deported as slaves during Cromwellian times. Another Irish influx came with the royal armies of Spain.”

There were professional musicians taking part in the festival from Cape Breton Island and Prince Edward Island in eastern Canada, British Columbia in western Canada, Ireland, and a bunch of us from Ontario who were just there to take it all in and play whenever we got the chance. Check out the page for the festival to see the incredible Cuban talent the festival embraced.

Now to the travelogue portion of the blog. The 6:20 a.m. flight from Toronto was relatively quick and happily uneventful. We landed just before 10:00 a.m. to a glorious sunfilled day. A Sunwing representative guided us to our bus and we set off on our hour and a half journey to the hotel. Someone said the busses in Cuba look like caterpillars with antennae and they were right.

We arrived at the hotel, dumped our bags in the room, grabbed a quick bite and headed to La Habana Vieja (Old Havana) on the 2:30 hotel shuttle bus. A concert was scheduled for that evening so we had a few hours to walk around the old part of the city and take photos. Reconstruction has begun in Havana to try to rebuild many of the elegant old buildings. The centre of La Plaza Vieja was totally rebuilt after being an underground parking lot.

I love the tree growing right in the wall. This was a fairly common sight on some of the very old structures.

Our son tried his first espresso in La Plaza Vieja and loved it. I’m documenting the initial coffee experience for the group. That’s my husband, son and a friend who travelled to Cuba with us.

The opening concert was to be a mix of Cuban Celtic musicians and visiting musicians and was to take place at the Casa de Poesia near La Plaza Vieja. The entry to the venue was through a small room with photos displayed on the walls, but that room opened out onto an incredibly beautiful open-air courtyard. One of the bagpipe bands played on a balcony high above the crowd, while other musicians and dancers took turns on the small stone stage. People watched from elegant balconies behind the seated crowd. The birds chirped incessantly and the sun shone down on what seemed to be the harbinger of an incredible week of music and friendship.

The last free shuttle bus to the hotel left Havana at 6:00, so after the concert we started what was to become our evening ritual- getting a taxi back to the hotel. That is more complicated than it sounds as it involved me haggling with the driver, in Spanish, to get the best price we could for the half hour ride. We were delighted when I was able to get a better price than some in the group who had a Cuban doing the bartering. The nightly taxi ride was also a nightly adventure as many vehicles were not as road worthy as we would have liked. I always sat in the front and kept up a running conversation with the driver. My brain got very sore, very quickly, and I still find myself thinking in Spanish now that we’re home.

We piled out of the taxi and headed down to look at the beach prior to hurrying to the dining room to eat before they closed. My heart soared as we walked along the sand, the sun warm and golden on our faces. It was spectacular.

The hotel was built by the Russians and, despite the square almost military design, was spacious and open to the air in many areas. The rooms were very clean and the staff helpful.

Here’s the view from the glassed-in sitting area right outside our door. No wonder I wanted to stay!

Every day began with breakfast then a trip to the beach for a swim and some downtime. After lunch we headed to Havana on the hotel shuttle and stayed there until we were too tired to walk anymore or listen to another note of music. One day there was a bagpipe parade followed by dancing in one of the squares. The costumes were so beautiful. We followed the pipers to a bar called O’Reilly’s where there was an amazing music session with the musicians mixing up who played with whom. Cuban percussionists playing with Irish fiddlers and lots of other interesting permutations. It was wonderful to be part of.

I took my concertina and got to play in some sessions. Here are two of my favourite photos. In one, I'm playing a few tunes with some of the Cuban pipers and in the other, I'm sitting in one of the amazing little taxis playing for the taxi drivers who asked what was in the little box. They were delighted when I took out the concertina and asked me to play something for them.

The week passed much too quickly, but we’re already planning our trip to next year’s festival to see our new Cuban friends. Here are a bunch of photos of things in and around Havana. Hope you enjoy them.

Please check out my newest release, Indulge Me, which is now available in ebook and audio. Go with Keane Daniels behind the scenes of the largest gay spa/bathhouse in Toronto as he follows a mysterious summons to pleasure.

See you next month,


Kaenar Langford

Tales to seduce and entice…

Information on the Irish in Cuba is from John Moran's article in the Havana Journal.


Sneaky peek!

Hi everyone. Isn't this cover completely awesome! Thank you Lyn Taylor, cover artist extraordinaire!

I'm so excited because my next White Tigers book, Men of Phuket: Thai'ing the Knot, is coming out next week on my birthday. I've loved writing this series and I adore the characters, so I just HAD to spend more time with Nat and Ryu. I hope you enjoy this sneak peek. Thanks for reading! Hugs, Sedonia

Book six in the White Tigers Series

All Nat wants to do is tie the knot with Ryu, the hot lover who's captured him, body, heart and soul. But a mistake in his past binds him, possibly for good, and he must risk everything to free himself or lose Ryu forever.

Four months ago on assignment to protect Ryu from a psychopathic gangster, ex-boxing champion-turned-cop Nat Phoenix fell in love with his sexy charge. Four months later, Nat's feelings have only deepened and all he wants to do is exchange vows with Ryu, the White Tiger who has completely captured his heart, body and soul.

But before Nat has a chance to pop the question, tragedy forces him back to Bangkok where he must stand trial, accused of serious misconduct on the very case that brought him and Ryu together. Could he be facing prison and what could be a permanent separation from Ryu? He won't let Ryu come to his aid which would mean giving up his boxing career and fading chances at glory. And Ryu would give those all up in a heartbeat to help Nat, but for another emergency that keeps him in Tokyo. Forced to stay behind, Ryu must confront the demons that threaten his and Nat's bond and fight for the love he's waited for his whole life...

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M. Includes anal and oral sex between men. It is the sequel to Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai'd.

Excerpt (may differ slightly from final version):

The second Nat woke up, he knew something was wrong. A familiar, heavy feeling pressed on his chest, the way it had nearly twenty years ago the day his twin brother had gotten sick and died.

Nat’s skin prickled. Ryu. Nat turned his head and braced himself. But his lover lay peacefully, eyes still closed, long lashes like dark brushes on his delicately rounded cheekbones. Nat scanned Ryu’s body, from the nicely-shaped fingers curled by his sleeping face on the pillow, over his wiry physique of colourful tattoos. Cherry blossoms bloomed over Ryu’s shoulder, the branch ending in artful curls on biceps and triceps.

The down-filled comforter had slipped down to Ryu’s slim hips and Nat scanned every part he could see. Portions of the white tigers leaping over Ryu’s skin showed on his ribcage. Over his lat muscle, was a portion of a samurai’s kimono. Nat knew the drawing of the two kissing samurai well by know, having had the opportunity to see Ryu’s naked back everyday for the past four months.

Ryu took a deep breath in his sleep and turned slightly. He seemed fine, yet the heavy feeling remained.

Was it about Ryu? Nat closed his eyes briefly. No. His intuition, finely honed from years of police work, did not sense a problem there. Yet, there was something. That question. The question he wanted to ask Ryu for the last few weeks. He’d already bought the ring on the sly, in the bit of time he actually wasn’t in Ryu’s presence. All the other guys here in the White Tiger knew about it and were doing a damn good job of keeping it a secret from Ryu. It was just a matter of when to ask. Of that he was uncertain.

Kiku, the owner of this place, Ryu’s best friend in the world as well as his protector and mentor, had said that when the time was right, Nat would know in his heart.

The time wasn’t right yet.

But that wasn’t the source of the bad feeling.

Bracing up on his elbow, Nat watched Ryu sleep. That at least was something he knew about. Watching Ryu doing anything was pleasurable. In sleep, Ryu looked nothing short of an angel.

Ryu blinked. He let out a long exhale and looked up.

Damn. Staring at Ryu had woken him up. Nat chided himself silently. He should have known Ryu would be sensitive, even in his sleep.

“Are you all right?” Ryu immediately levered up onto his elbow. He scrubbed his free hand over his face. His eyes, though concerned, still looked sleepy, and his hair stood up in bed-head spikes which framed his classically beautiful face. Too sexy for words.

Nat watched him another second. If he lied, Ryu would know immediately and hound him for the truth. He shrugged and heaved a sigh. “I’m troubled, but happy to see you.”

A smile stretched Ryu’s pouty lips. He fell back against his pillow, his gaze still on Nat. “If I didn’t have a practice spar today,” he said, “I’d show you my gratitude for those kind words.”

Nat smiled back at him. “If you didn’t have a practice spar, I’d let you.” It was a policy of theirs not to have sex the same day Ryu had a fight, practice or otherwise, for as Ryu put it, he had to conserve his qi. Nat’s cock tightened and rose under the covers. He did his best to ignore it. Later, once Ryu had completed his fight, there’d be time for that.

Ryu’s smile faded. “What are you troubled about, Nat?” He turned on his side and rose up again on his elbow.

“I don’t know. I just woke up with this…feeling.”

Ryu’s almond-shaped eyes widened. “You’re not…having doubts, about us, are you?”

“God no.” Nat didn’t hesitate on that, not only because it wasn’t the problem but because he hated for Ryu to be scared a second about them. He’d given Ryu enough grief their first meeting when Kiku had sent Ryu to Thailand for protection from a psychotic yakuza boss, and then again, when that mission had finished and he and Ryu knew there was something between them, he’d said nothing and let Ryu return, hurt and frustrated to Tokyo. When Nat had taken the leap two weeks later and followed Ryu here, taking an emergency leave of absence from the Thai Royal Police in order to be with him, he’d sworn never to let Ryu have another moment’s grief. Though with this nagging sense of foreboding, he wasn’t sure that would be possible. “Listen, Ryu, you never have to worry about that again.” Nat still remembered watching Ryu’s cab pull away from the curb on the way to the airport. Ryu’s face through the window had been so hurt. Disappointed.

Relief flickered over the other man’s softly rounded features. “Can you talk about what it is?”

“I would. If I knew.”

Ryu sat up now, dislodging the covers and Nat got an eyeful of his morning hard-on which bulged through the skin-hugging white boxer briefs he’d worn to sleep. No nakedness to tempt them. He leaned over and pressed a soft, quick kiss to Nat’s lips. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll help you, right?”

“Of course I know.”

Ryu nodded. “Better get going, I guess.” He pushed away the covers and rose from the bed.

Nat watched him disappear into the bathroom. Instead of getting up himself, he clasped his hands behind his head and listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Ryu’s morning relief streaming into the toilet, the flush, the turning on of the shower. Ryu showered even before sweating at the gym. He had a thing about bodily cleanliness that went beyond…normal.

Nat smiled briefly to himself. It was one of the quirks he’d found charming about the man back in Phuket at the training camp where he’d passed Ryu off as a student.

Steam filled the bathroom and Nat sat up quickly and leaned forward, stealing a glance into the bathroom.

Bull’s eye. Ryu had just pulled off his boxer briefs and was opening the glass door of the shower. That erection Nat had seen underneath the boxer briefs still poked heavenward. Not large and thick but perfect, delicious, just the right amount of tiny veins and blushing colour, the lobes of the head smooth and lickable. And Ryu’s sac underneath, juicy and plump, fit perfectly in Nat’s hand when he palmed them.

Too soon, Ryu stepped into the shower and disappeared behind the cloud of steam. The glass door shut, leaving Nat alone with his own hard-on. Heaving a deep sigh, Nat lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The tightness in his cock beckoned but he continued to ignore it. He needed to conserve his own qi. Ryu’s voice, singing, caught Nat’s ear. Nat listened. Ryu was singing a song in Japanese, a rock ballad by a singer he listened to sometimes. Gackt. Funny name, but Ryu liked the guy, and when Ryu liked someone, he was a fan for life. Nat knew this, having seen the scrap book Ryu had kept since his late teens on Nat’s career. Every little news article in Thai, Japanese or English Ryu had found went into that scrapbook. Cheeks blushing, Ryu had finally shown it to him last weekend.

That’s when the thought of popping the question had popped into Nat’s mind.


A deep voice came from the other side of the soji screen door. Kiku.

Nat sat up, frowning. Kiku never came to the door. Must be something important. Nat’s stomach tightened. “Yes?”

He threw back the covers, glad for his boxer shorts, and crossed over to the door, which he slid open.

Kiku bowed his head respectfully. Once a yakuza boss, he’d gone legit and converted this place from an illegal gambling parlour to a beautiful men’s hotel. A long rivalry with his boss’s son, Taro Suzuki, however, now showed on Kiku’s face. Even though Ryu had ended it all four months ago in a heart-stopping way, Kiku had aged considerably. His still ruggedly handsome face had lines around the eyes and mouth, his eyes deeply sad in spite of the humour and compassion that also showed in their depths. “Nat, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Ryu’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a few minutes.”

But Kiku shook his head. “I’m not here to speak to him. There’s a call for you downstairs in my office. He identified himself as Agent Chuek. He needs to speak with you.”

Nat’s blood froze. “Not my parents I hope?” He spoke to his mother and father regularly, but they were older, so he worried.

“He said to tell you your parents are fine. Not to worry. It isn’t something like that. But it is terribly urgent.”

“I’ll throw on a shirt and come right down.”

Nat grabbed a t-shirt out of a drawer, slipped it on and told Ryu where he was going.

Ryu poked his head out of the steam, a sheen of water darkening his already golden tan skin. Water beaded on his lips. “Nothing serious, I hope?” Ryu’s brow crinkled in the middle. He was always worried Nat would have to go back to Thailand to work.

Nat stepped forward and brushed a kiss over his lips. He resisted the urge to linger and slip his tongue in against Ryu’s. Ryu was the best kisser in the world and even a tiny peck caused tingles through Nat’s body. He pulled back. “I hope not too. At least it’s not a family emergency.”

“Please let me know as soon as possible.”

“I will.” He watched Ryu disappear into the steam again before going downstairs.


Daydream Zone

One of my favorite things to do when I am having problems with a book is to daydream. One of my spots I like to use to day dream is my living room. I get my blanket, go to my living room, turn off the lights and TV put on some music really low then sit on my couch. I spread my blanket over me, lay my head back and close my eyes. My body relaxes as the music plays and the calm overcomes me. After a few moments I am in the daydream zone.

As my mind wanders I let what I have written so far in my story unfold in my thoughts. As the story goes the part I am stuck on comes up I daydream of various possible scenarios I can take with my story. If the scenario doesn’t work it stalls and I go onto another. When I hit on one that does my mind races with all I need to get back to work. Sometimes it take more than one of my daydream zone moments for me to get over what is giving me issue.

I’ve also been known to fall asleep during those daydream zone moments. LOL. But as I have said before many of my best ideas come from dreams. So if you see me somewhere with my eyes closed I’m working. Yep that’s what I am doing. Hard at work. (grin) Daydreaming or dreaming of my next story.

Taige Crenshaw
…increasing the sizzle factor

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