A First Look at Love Me Tomorrow!

Love Me Tomorrow



Love Me Tomorrow

Ethan Day


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Promotional Blurb:

Event planner Levi Goode is positioned to inherit the newly vacated throne, becoming the in-demand party planner for Wilde City’s elite. Years of hard work and perseverance are finally paying off as Levi lands his next big fish, working with socialite Julia Freeman-Kingsley. Distracted by work and dealing with his head strong mother, an ex-Vegas-showgirl suffering from debilitating health issues, Levi has his hands full. Time for love or even the occasional one-night stand, is one aspect of life Levi hasn’t been able to master.

Sparks of interest fly during a chance meeting with a paramedic called to the aid of his mother, and thanks to Ruby’s meddling, Levi finds himself on a movie-date with the handsome Paramedic Jake. Personal and professional worlds collide when Levi realizes his new love interest is actually Jake Freeman, estranged brother to his brand new client. Discovering the man of his dreams already has a boyfriend, leaves Levi stunned realizing any hopes he had for something more with Jake were never going to be anything more than wishful thinking.

Struggling to downshift his expectations and remain friends with Jake while continuing to work closely with Julia quickly consumes all of his time and attention. Wondering if there will ever be a special someone to love him, is where Levi’s love story begins.


A Big Honkin’ Excerpt:

“Momma!” he called out, rushing back out to the foyer and past the dining room. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner into the small kitchen that Levi spotted the paramedics standing in the living area at the back of the house.

His heart sank as the two men looked his direction.


“She’s okay, sir,” one of the men said, making eye contact with him, further reassuring Levi that all was well. Or as well as they could be considering there was an ambulance parked outside the house.

Levi nodded, acknowledging he’d heard the man while scooching past him so he could get to Ruby.

She pulled the oxygen mask from her face and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, darling, just had a dizzy spell.”

She placed the mask back over her mouth and nose and took several deep breaths. Levi shut his eyes, trying to calm his nerves, only to feel Ruby grab his hand and give it a squeeze of reassurance.

He could hear the paramedics talking in low voices behind him and Levi struggled to listen as they discussed that the chief complaint was pain noted from the contusion in the temporal area of the skull from where Ruby had fallen and bumped her head on the floor.

“Are you bleeding anywhere?” Levi asked Ruby, who shook her head that she was not.

Levi went back to eavesdropping long enough to hear that her breathing had begun to normalize but her lungs sounded wheezy, bilaterally.

No big surprise there.

Her pulse was also strong, but seemed to be a little fast and her blood pressure was slightly elevated.

“But that is a normal reaction to the stress of all this, isn’t it?” Levi asked, finally tearing his gaze away from his mother in order to turn around and face them.

The second EMT looked at Levi and for a moment, Levi thought he might be having a cardiac event all his own. The oddest sensation came over him, one he’d never experienced before and he immediately felt a light layer of sweat flush across the surface of his skin.

He smiled through the light-headed, slightly intoxicated feeling.

The paramedic eyed him somewhat suspiciously which registered that whatever was happening to Levi was evident to those around him. Since the EMT decided not to mention it, Levi saw no reason he shouldn’t breeze right on past the tingles and mild case of nausea that continued to plague him.

“Hey…there, you.” Levi smiled weakly while inappropriately staring into the bluest pair of eyes the world had no doubt ever known. They were arresting, those eyes—even the deepest, most crystal clear tropical waters of the Caribbean suffered in comparison.

Watching intently as the man came back around the coffee table and crouched down next to Ruby, Levi inventoried his dark, black hair and sexy stubble-covered masculine jawline which were softened by the warm smile as the man stared up at Levi from the floor where he knelt, attending to Ruby.

Levi felt it, like a fist in the gut.

“Say, you okay?” the guy asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“So-whoa-kay,” Levi muttered, taking note that Ruby had also picked up on the fact something was up with her baby boy. “Though insulting me by noting my inadequate allure seems slightly uncalled for."

The guy’s forehead crinkled up, visibly confused for a few moments before the dimples and perfect leading man smile spread across his face. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t referencing to your physique so much as the slightly pained expression you were exhibiting.”

Levi sat down on the other side of Ruby and did his level best to concentrate on the man’s condescending tone as it irritated Levi and counteracted the dream-like spell he’d been under since laying eyes on him.

“What the hell happened here?” Levi began looking around for the nurse he was over-paying to watch after his mother. “And where the hell is Carrie?”

“Carrie?” Sexy, blue-eyes asked. “I’m Jake by the way… this is my partner, Craig.”

“There was no one else here when we arrived on the scene,” Craig said from behind him.

“Mom, where is your nurse?” He was staring at Jake again, but managed to tear his gaze away from the hypnotizing twin pools of mind-numbing sexiness long enough to turn his attention back to his mother. “She’s supposed to have a nurse. I’m certainly still paying for a nurse.”

Ruby plastered on her best, wide-eyed, innocent-of-any-wrong-doing expression and shrugged, clutching the mask to her mouth as if her very existence now depended upon each gulp of life-giving oxygen.

“You have got to stop firing the nurses I hire, Mom. Eventually we’ll have run through all the nurses in the world and then where will we be?”

Ruby scowled, pulling the mask away. “This one prayed constantly, it was annoying and she refused to stop doing it when I asked her to.”

Levi sighed, brushing a few strands of her platinum-dyed blonde hair off her forehead. He was trying to count to ten so he didn’t come off like a monster-child by yelling at Ruby in front of complete strangers. He was also attempting to keep his focus on his mother and avoid getting lost in Paramedic Jake’s dangerous Bermuda Triangle-like gaze once again.

“I asked nicely,” Ruby muttered, “but she completely ignored me.”

“I’m sure you did, Momma.” Levi looked at Jake, but focused on his forehead. “Is she really all right?”

“She has a nasty bump on her head from where she fell and though she was conscious when we arrived on the scene, she was disoriented. She now appears to be lucid—doesn’t seem to have any trouble communicating, either.” Jake winked at Ruby.

“Every time I said a curse word the woman would bow her head and pray,” Ruby said, as if to further justify Nurse Carrie’s dismissal.

Levi scowled at her. “She must have been praying a lot.”

Jake and his partner both started chuckling when Ruby reached up and smacked Levi in the arm. He straightened out the hem of her floor length pink silk nightgown and tucked in the throw currently covering her legs.

“Momma, please, you’re gonna have to start making some allowances for—”

“I shouldn’t have to, not in my own home,” she interrupted.

She started coughing and Levi sighed, already backing down, not wanting to send her into a coughing jag. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it—fully aware that was the closest to an apology he was going to get.

“How’s my face, kiddo?” she asked, looking sweet and innocent once again.

Aside from the exhaustion, which was quite apparent, she looked no worse for the wear. She was made up from head to red-nail polished toe, thank goodness. Otherwise that would be all Ruby would be worried about. She was the vainest creature the world had ever known—Levi had the in-home hair care and mani-pedi bills to prove it.

“You look great, Mom.” Levi turned to Jake. “Who called you?”

“A neighbor happened to be looking through the window there.” Craig pointed to the window that looked out across the side yard into nosy Mrs. Miller’s kitchen. “Noticed your mother fall. Called 911 when they never saw Miss Ruby here get back up.”

For the first time ever, Levi was grateful their busy-body neighbor had a penchant for peeping Tom-like behavior.

“Though we’d typically consider this a lift-assist as she seems alert and stable now, I am still recommending we get her to the hospital due to the contusion, let them run a CT scan and a few other tests—make sure everything checks out.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Ruby said.

“They may want to keep her under observation overnight due to the head injury.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she insisted.

“Thank you for that assessment, Mother, however, I think we’ll follow the recommendations from the people with the actual medical training, just to be on the safe side.”

“Does she have a history of respiratory issues?”

“She used to smoke like a fiend,” he said accusingly, which garnered an eye roll from Ruby.

He barely got the entire spiel out, highlighting her pertinent medical history including that particularly nasty case of pneumonia, before Ruby cut him off.

“Killed my glorious career!”

“And we almost lost her,” Levi said, shaking his head at her, still amazed that after all these years it was still all about her.

“Never fully recovered after,” she added, completely ignoring Levi at this point.

Levi sighed, hoping to cut her off on the path to where she was no doubt heading. “She was a showgirl in Vegas back in the day.”

“I was THE Vegas showgirl, damn it. I had legs for days and I knew how to use ’em. I set the city that never sleeps on fire throughout most of the eighties. It was fabulous. No one could touch me. I was fabulous.”

She started coughing and Levi placed the oxygen mask back over her mouth. “She’s a humble sorta gal.”

“Lots of coke and loads of sex,” Ruby said, pushing the oxygen mask away once again. “The music, the lights, the gorgeous, glittery costumes—”

“Which explains the tacky I Dream of Jeannie design scheme,” Levi pointed around at the tone on tone pink paint and fabrics covered with lace and fringe.

“Don’t interrupt your mother when she’s reminiscing, child. I knew Sinatra, damn it.”

He sighed, wondering why the hell she still thought knowing Sinatra back in the day meant she automatically garnered some sort of reverential respect.

“I’m guessing that when she said coke she wasn’t referring to the refreshing beverage?” Jake asked, scribbling down notes into a wallet-sized booklet.

“Unfortunately, no.” Levi strained his neck, trying to get a peek at what the man was writing. He glanced down at Ruby to see she wasn’t real happy about Jake’s documentation tactics either.

“Don’t knock the cocaine, kiddo, you may not have ever been born without it.”

Levi sighed. “And here we go.”

“I’m… not going to ask.” Jake pointed out, attempting to reassure Levi.

“Thank you,” Levi said, trying not to smile back at the man.

“It was a fabulous orgy, Dr. Jake,” Ruby said, ignoring Levi’s plea and the fact Jake just stated he neither needed nor wanted any of the gory details.

Craig dramatically cleared his throat behind them, reminding Levi there were multiple witnesses to his humiliation. “The nice men don’t want to hear about orgies, Momma,” Levi pointed out, while gently petting her arm.

“I’m not a doctor, ma’am,” Jake reminded her.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of where you come from,” Ruby said, ignoring Jake’s disclaimer while shooing Levi’s hand away. “It’s not a very becoming quality in a man.”

“Forgive me, Mother, I’ll be sure to bring that up at my next children-of-orgies support group meeting.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “So sarcastic this one—it’s no wonder you’re still single.”

“You musta been one helluva party girl,” Jake said, smiling at her without any sort of discernible judgment on his face.

Just like that he’d managed to snake charm Ruby, who had forgotten all about Levi’s smart mouth. It was one of the single sexiest things Levi had ever witnessed and made him feel better that Ruby seemed to also be susceptible to Jake’s super-human charms.

A little hinky, perhaps, considering they were parent and child, but sometimes strange company was better than no company at all.

It was a special brand of man who wasn’t put off by Ruby’s brazenness. Her behavior tended to work as a litmus test for most mortals—often revealing the ugly, pretentious side most people attempted to conceal from people they were trying to impress. Even the guys who liked to crystal up and fuck their brains out every weekend could be a little judgey when it came to Ruby’s tales of drunken debauchery. Totally hypocritical, mind you, though Levi wasn’t into that type of guy anyway, and truth be told, he was usually way more embarrassed by his mother than anyone else ever had been, so he tried not to pass judgment when he could help it.

Parental introductions had been the thing he’d passionately avoided for as long as possible when dating a new guy—back when he actually had time to date. Levi had lost more than one man due to his mother over the years, but on some level, he had self-justified those experiences in her favor. Any guy who would leave him because his mother was a total crackpot was likely not the kind that would end up sticking around long-term regardless.

In that sense, she had done him a solid.

He and Ruby were polar opposites—Ruby had no filter and Levi was nothing but filter.

Levi was a lot like the parties he planned, on the exterior all seemed calm, collected and always appeared to be completely under control. Each event was like an opera, a production for the masses who never witnessed the inevitable chaos—the by-product of all the moving parts running behind the scenes. Levi was the great and powerful Oz and he liked keeping all his shit tucked safely behind the curtain. Needless to say, that often included Ruby.

It didn’t mean he didn’t love her. There had been times when he was younger when he’d allowed his resentment of Ruby and his completely insane upbringing to cast a cloud over their relationship. But the older he got the more protective he became, and Levi had developed some semblance of respect and genuine admiration for her. Much like her name, Ruby was unique and precious, a rare jewel. Levi didn’t necessarily enjoy putting his Ruby on display all the time, yet he was also terrified of losing her.

Attempting to take care of her was frustrating as she was more than a handful. You couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do. Their relationship had become Levi attempting to find ways to work around her wants, in order to ensure he managed to meet all her needs.

All that glitters isn’t gold.

“For the record, I like a guy with a smart mouth.” Jake smiled at Levi before glancing back at Ruby.

Ruby was grinning and Levi realized he was as well, something his mother unfortunately took note of.

“I’ll go grab the gurney.” Craig thumbed toward the front of the house and Jake nodded. He grabbed the handheld radio on his collar and began speaking to whoever was on the other end as he left the room.

Levi was too distracted by Jake to pay attention to what Craig was saying.

There was something about him—Jake seemed familiar to Levi in some odd way. There was a genuineness that came off the man in waves, like he was completely comfortable in his own skin—allowing him the luxury of accepting everyone else for who they were. It was as if Jake had this blanketed, face-value respect for those who were different than he was, like each individual made up a new thread that wove itself into the tapestry of Jake’s life, enriching and strengthening him from within.

Levi shook loose all the romantic nonsense that was bouncing around inside his head, reminding himself to get a fucking grip already. The man was fucking gorgeous and all, but the delusions of grandeur were a little much and very un-Levi-like.

One thing was certain, Jake appeared to be sincerely interested in and amused by anything Ruby had to say. Unfortunately, Ruby had also picked up on that fact.

“That’s how my Levi got his name, remember, sweetie?” Ruby smiled up at him, forever ignorant to the fact Levi didn’t find his orgy-origin-story the least bit charming. “I never caught his father’s name, but I do recall he was a beautiful hunk of man… wore the tightest pair of hip and ass hugging Levis I’d ever seen on a man.”

Levi groaned, desperately wishing she would stop already. “Feel free to give her a sedative if you think it appropriate.”

“Like they were painted on, those jeans,” Ruby added, staring off in space.

Jake laughed while continually checking her vitals.

“Your daddy had the most beautiful thighs I’ve ever seen on any man, I do remember that much.”

“Dear God,” Levi muttered.

Jake stood, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder, appearing to be amused by it all. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t say the same about my father.”

The squeeze of reassurance he gave went straight to Levi’s crotch and he had to fight to maintain any sort of composure. He managed to forget about his mother for several moments while staring up at the paramedic, admiring the way his hair was styled—neatly parted to the side and sleekly combed over like he’d walked off of the set of Mad Men. His stubble was well-groomed so Levi could tell it was intentional and not due to the fact he’d neglected to shave the last few days. He also had totally suckable, thick, light-pink lips that practically called out to Levi, as if begging to be kissed.

A man like that he’d be willing… hell, eager to make time for… busy schedule be damned. And that was merely Levi’s reaction from the neck up.

“Hey, she’s going to be all right,” Jake squeezed his shoulder again.

He immediately felt like a shit-heel considering Jake had mistaken Levi’s lusting over him for concern over his mother’s well-being.

“Thanks.” Levi forced a smile.

He gave Levi another pat, before Jake’s hand slid down to his bicep, offering Levi two more quick squeezes before awkwardly pulling his hand away.

“Apologies for the inappropriate… fondling there.” He shook his head like he might be confused by his own behavior.

“I don’t mind.” Levi felt his eyes widening, realizing the way that sounded. “The inappropriate fondling… I didn’t take it that way, is what I meant to say there.”

Jake laughed, glancing down at Ruby, making Levi fear he’d embarrassed Jake.

“I see crackles,” Ruby said, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Crackles?” Jake looked confused, likely thinking she was experiencing issues with her vision.

“For the record, my son is single.” Ruby smiled sweetly at Jake, avoiding any eye contact with Levi. “He goes down to the Cinema Paradise every Thursday night for their Classic Film festival. You should meet him there.”

Jake grinned, winking at her as he began to put the pieces together.

“Mother, please,” Levi pleaded. “I’m sure Jake has better things to do with his time.”

“I like movies,” Jake said, nodding.

“Yeah, sure, but you don’t have to, I mean, she’ll be heavily medicated at some point, and won’t remember this anyway.”

“I heard that,” Ruby muttered, sounding calmer. “Sparks are rare, baby boy. You should never ignore the crackles.”

Jake grinned, flashing those pearly whites. “What movie is playing this week?”

Levi felt his face flush with heat once again and found it momentarily difficult to swallow. “Some Like It… Hot.”

“I’ve heard some people do,” Jake said.

Levi couldn’t tell for sure whether Jake was actually flirting or if he was merely attempting to help Levi out by giving him props in front of Ruby. Obviously, the whole flirting scenario was preferable, but either way Levi considered it a kindness, though the latter made him feel slightly losery.

“I don’t think I have any plans this Thursday, assuming you wouldn’t mind the company?” Jake asked.

Levi had to fight hard in order to maintain control over himself, but he did a celebratory, mental fist-pump.

“No, that’s… seven o’clock… that’s when it starts… the movie, I mean,” Levi said, tripping over his own words.

Please stop speaking freak-a-zoid.

“That’s good,” Ruby muttered, grinning at the two of them, visibly pleased with herself. “My Levi needs more friends, I worry he won’t have enough people to take care of him.”

“She’s quite a character.” Jake smirked as Ruby pretended like she’d stopped listening. “And very sweet.”

“For an ex-gangster’s-gun-moll slash Vegas showgirl, yeah… she’s kinda sweet… in her own way.”

Jake took a few steps back, signaling for Levi to follow. “She was pretty frightened and confused before you showed up.”

Levi nodded, looking down at her and feeling terrible that he hadn’t been there for her.

“I think all is clear, but getting her to the hospital for some tests will confirm we didn’t miss anything. My real concern is whether she fell or fainted.”

“Okay, sure, though she does suffer occasional bouts of vertigo, which is why we have the nurse in the first place.”

“She goes through a lot of them, huh?” Jake asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Levi glanced down, catching her doing a horrible job pretending not to eavesdrop. “She can be a handful.”

The Joyfully Jay As You Are audio book post!



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As You Are, performed by Jason Frazier, is Now Available from iTunes, Amazon and Audible!

Operation Danny….

That’s all bartender and recent college graduate, Julian Hallowell has had on his mind for the past year. Julian may have no idea what he wants to do with his life, but he definitely knows he’s in love with the boy next door: the one in the next room to be exact, his roommate, Danny Wallace.

Danny owns a used textbook store just off campus, and while Julian has done his level best to make Danny fall for him, all his hard work appears to have been in vain. Danny doesn’t seem to view Julian as anything other than that–a roommate and friend. So when new guy in town Andy Baker asks him out on a date, Julian can’t think of a good reason to say no.

Julian has already instituted a Reverse Operation Danny plan, which he’s positive will purge all thoughts of love and lust for his roomie out of his head. He’s ready to move on and start looking for his next Mr. Right, and Andy just might fit the bill.





Also available in ebook format from Wilde City Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and All Romance Ebooks!

All New and Releasing September 25th!!!




Northern Star

Ethan Day

Available September 25th from

Wilde City Press

Click Here to Purchase

Promotional Blurb: Deacon Miller never had it all—he never really believed he could. Growing up in a broken home with an alcoholic mother and a revolving door of truly pathetic father figures taught him to keep his expectations low. Now at twenty-seven, on the night before Christmas Eve, his life is turned upside down yet again; his boyfriend has dumped him, he just fled the holiday family reunion from hell, and now to top it all off, a blizzard has left him stranded in an airport hotel.

Steve Steele has spent the better part of his forty-four years living a lie, ignoring his attraction to other men in an attempt to fit into the mold of the man he thought he should be, instead of living life as the man he knew himself to be. Recently divorced after coming home from work one day and coming out to his wife, Steve has floundered over the past year, desperately attempting to wade through the guilt and find the courage to start again.

That’s when a chance meeting in a hotel bar brings two lonely men together… and what should’ve been a one night stand turns into something much more than either one ever expected.


Chapter One



Staring at the screen on his phone, Deacon Miller periodically tapped it with his thumb each time the back light began the process of going dark in an attempt to save the life of his battery. His email was open and the words were staring back at him in stark black and white, yet he could also hear them playing over and over on a loop inside his head—the voice of his boyfriend for the past year and a half cutting into his chest like a hatchet.


I can’t be with you anymore, Deacon, you’re boring. There’s no passion here, the sex has gotten really lame, and if I’m being totally honest, I’m not sure I ever even loved you. Either way, I’m pretty sure I don’t particularly like you, at least not anymore.


Hollow—that was how it felt, like he’d been gutted. His insides had been ripped out and tossed aside like waste.

Placing his phone down on the bar, Deacon picked up the rocks glass, sucking down the rest of his Sapphire and tonic before signaling the bartender that he’d be having another. On the emotional scale of totally-horrific-life-lessons-learned, he was currently sitting somewhere between desperation and completely numb. He didn’t intend to stop sucking down booze until he was safely situated completely on the numb side.

Alcohol had never really been his go-to solution for disappointment or disillusionment, having grown up with a raging alcoholic for a mother, but Seth’s email had been particularly harsh. Some train wrecks were simply too horrible to stare down without a filter, and on this night, Deacon had buckled under the pressure and gin had become the filter of choice.

He’d always known deep down what a prick Seth could be—completely conceited and selfish. When they’d first met, his attraction to the man had actually embarrassed him. How could he have ever been into someone who had such a capacity for cruelty? What did that say about him?

Of course, Deacon had never been good when it came to paying attention to warning signs.

Winding Road Ahead? Curves keep life interesting, right?

Road Narrows!?! I’ll go on a diet!

Dead End!!! Too little…too late.

He’d always been a bit of a ‘village idiot’ when it came to men. It didn’t help matters that Seth had a rakish charm, which made the awful things he sometimes said seem like a slightly destructive form of foreplay. Seth had always tested the boundaries to see how far he could push before breaking them, and loving him had felt dangerous as a result.

Living life on the edge.

Glancing back down at his phone, Deacon read the words once again, and another wave of emptiness came over him. “I’d consider us…shattered.”

“On your tab?” The bartender asked, setting down the freshly made cocktail.

“Yup,” Deacon said, smiling slightly when his lips made a faint popping sound, like a cork being violently liberated from a wine bottle.

He did his best to ignore the judgmental expression on the bartender’s face. Glancing down at the name tag, he shook his head, disgusted anyone named Clifford would be casting stones. The pious pity of Cliffy wasn’t what Deacon needed at the moment, and he said as much with the dirty look he offered as a thank you for the drink.

They both turned, hearing a loud group of twenty-something’s come stumbling into the hotel bar. They were all visibly wasted, and from what he could make out from their rather gregarious bitching, they’d each been bumped from their flight as a result of their intoxication.

More rejected casualties, redirected to purgatory via this airport adjacent, cheesy-ass hotel bar that hadn’t been updated since the early nineties.

The burgundy and blue commercial grade fabric was rough to the touch, as if designed to ensure you didn’t make yourself comfortable. That combined with the brass railings that ran along the bar and atop the booths located along the far wall, all the mirrors and glassware dangling from above, the entire room screamed Loser-ville.

“And I am right at home with my fellow loser-residents,” he muttered.

Deacon could practically smell the sweaty desperation of yester-year that hung in the air like the scent of stale smoke, from what had no doubt been the scene of many a one-night hookup over the years. Chewing on a chunk of ice, he took a moment to glance around the room at the rest of the poor schlubs.

Two gray-haired business men types were huddled at the far end of the bar. One was a bit of a chunk but had an abundance of snow on the roof. His business-bud was more fit but had little roof left at all. The lights above the bar reflected off the top of the shiny bald-headed portion of his receding hairline, and it dawned on Deacon that perhaps no man was allowed to have it all.

“Fat man, tall man, big dick, small, ain’t nobody gonna have it all,” he mumbled, snickering to himself.

He was certainly beginning to feel less pain thanks to the alcohol.

Perusing the rest of the room, attendance was pretty sparse. There were only a few other random couples and a handful of singles like himself of various ages and sexes nursing cocktails. All making an attempt to avoid the solitude of a lonely hotel room on the eve of Christmas Eve.

They all looked as tragic as he felt, save the older guy who just walked in. He was kinda hot. Deacon watched the man shake the snow off his coat before hanging it on a peg just inside the entrance. He smiled warmly at Deacon as he made a beeline for the bar, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

“Guess I shoulda asked,” the guy said, waving at the bartender. “Was anyone sitting here?”

“Nope,” Deacon said. “Seat’s all yours, pal.”

Mr. Smiley was hunky, in that hetero, somebody’s-father kinda way. Late thirties, he guessed. Very athletic looking, the drool-worthy type you’d expect to find coaching his son’s little league team.

Deacon imagined all the other mommies spent more time watching the coach than they did their kiddies—probably a few of the daddies too, for that matter.

For some reason, that thought made him chuckle.

His new neighbor was dressed more casually in jeans, a black thin cotton sweater and a pair of well-worn leather snow boots.

Very butch.

The sweater looked new, but the man was slightly weathered in the best sense of the word with a bit of gray speckled throughout his sideburns. His face had the slightest hint of stubble, which suited the masculine jawline and chin dimple.

Salesman, Deacon figured, already turned off by that thought. Of course, if he promised not to speak, Deacon would definitely be willing to work the bod.

Smiley’s light brown hair was well manicured, longer on top and combed back with enough product to keep everything in its place. Deacon had just begun to imagine what he looked like naked when Mr. Smiley gave him a sideways glance and began to grin once more.

Deacon turned away, unsure if he was embarrassed or if he’d had too many cocktails to care. He was aware that he should’ve been, though, staring at a total stranger for that length of time, as if he’d actually been considering the possibility.

The stir of activity between his legs was evidence that he had been.

Why not? Nothing like random sex with a stranger to make a boy feel better about himself. Not like I’m in a relationship anymore.

He cringed through the sharp pain in his chest and sucked down the rest of his drink, once again, signaling the barkeep with the clinking sound of ice against glass as he gently shook it.

Again with Clifford’s judgey sigh?

The rat bastard.

Get a different job if you can’t handle the sight of intoxication in process. He glanced over at Smiley to see the man was staring at the television hanging on the wall behind the bar. A basketball game was on, but the volume was muted so it didn’t interfere with the nauseating vocals-with-jazz being piped in through the sound system.

Like that wouldn’t be enough to require one or two extra cocktails.

The current selection was some bastardized-rapage of a Carpenters’ tune, Top of the World, he thought, which seemed a little insensitive considering his current situation—having been dumped and all.

Probably Clifford’s doing—the little weasel had it out for him.

Deacon sneered, glancing up at the speaker in the ceiling above his head.

The crappy song choice aside, they’d apparently hired the horrifically off-key singers featured on Dancing with the Stars, adding insult to injury. What asshole gave those tone-deaf fuckers a recording contract?

Stupid show.

Seth never missed an episode. Perhaps that was the silver lining to the knowledge Deacon was apparently an un-passionate, cold-dead-fish-fuck in the sack? He’d never have to sit through another episode of DWTS.

In an attempt to be a little stealthier, Deacon took to further examining Mr. Smiley utilizing the mirror behind the bar.

Definitely a hot dad type. A real man, no doubt. Bet he doesn’t watch totally gay reality television. Of course he unfortunately probably fucks like a straight man too—just shoves it on in and starts pounding away. Deacon hated that.

He sure was sexy, though, like the older male models featured in the back of his mother’s JC Penney catalog, which Deacon used to jack off to as a teenager—the ones posing in their Jockeys.

He smiled at the memory while attempting to ignore the wood growing in his trousers.

The guy’s probably married.

Clifford reluctantly placed Deacon’s fourth cocktail onto the bar.

“Tab it,” Deacon said, not giving Clifford the opportunity to recommend any other alternatives. “I’m staying in the hotel, dude. Not driving, so tab it.”

Clifford held up his hands like he was shocked by the insinuation that he gave a good goddamn either way, which made Deacon wonder if he hadn’t been imagining the whole thing. Perhaps he was mildly sensitive at the moment? The knockdown, drag-out with his mother followed by having been ruthlessly dumped by his boyfriend via email had caused a mental breakdown, and as a result, he’d been forced to invent someone who cared about his well-being?

That was a particularly sad and wretched thought. Poor Cliffy’s getting the raw end of that imaginary deal.

Need to try thinking about something else.

Deacon glanced back into the mirror behind the bar, deciding his new neighbor on the stool to his left would do in a pinch.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, should I fuck Smiley in a bathroom stall?

He grinned to himself, deciding one thing was certain. Deacon was seldom wrong when it came to sniffing out the gay, regardless of the married-het vibe the man exuded. That meant Mr. Smiley was either bi or a gay man who’d gotten married back in the day and now trolled bars looking for cock while on business trips.

It was a particular breed of gay that Deacon didn’t like thinking about—the self-loathers. They depressed him. Fortunately, thanks to Seth, he was already depressed, so fuck it if he gave a shit at this point.

Taking in his own reflection in an attempt to ascertain his physical state, he smirked, deciding while he might not be the hottest piece of ass out there, he was indeed attractive in that cloned-gay-way. Deacon wasn’t overtly fem, or at least he didn’t think so, but he had the look—over-primped and manscaped down to the nearest centimeter. Too tan, despite the fact it was the dead of winter and he wasn’t visiting from Florida or southern California.

All he was missing was some glitter.

With well-gelled, dark hair and sharp blue eyes, he was borderline pretty, but Deacon spent enough time in the gym to keep his body tight. He’d been a fat kid and teased to the point he was now overly sensitive about his waistline as a result. It had become an unhealthy obsession.

Deacon utilized the mirror to glance back over at Smiley only to discover he was being watched. He wondered how Seth would feel if he took Mr. Faux-het up to his room and cold-dead-fish fucked him.

That’d learn him.

His attention was diverted back to the loud lot now laughing hysterically at their friend who was so drunk she’d limply slipped out of the booth and onto the floor underneath their table. He couldn’t imagine how they’d managed to find their gate in the first place, but that, no doubt, made not being allowed to board even more upsetting.

Deacon had been bumped from his flight too. Though in his case, it had been self-inflicted. By the time they began announcing his flight was overbooked, he’d been staring at his Dear John email for a good forty minutes in disbelief. When they asked for volunteers to opt for a later flight, Seth’s evil words finally sank in…he no longer had anyone to rush home to. Then his later flight got cancelled due to the blizzard.

This had been his first trip home to Detroit since he’d left six years before.

If you could call it home.

His mother, Patricia, was pretty bad off, facing real jail time after her third DUI in too many years. Patty’s latest piece of shit trailer-trash boyfriend had run off to boot, leaving he and his half-sister, Ashley, to deal with the fallout. It was difficult to feel bad for his mother considering the last time he’d seen her, Patty had told him she’d rather have a dead son than a gay one.

Yeah, a real sweetheart, proof that some people shouldn’t be allowed to breed.

Were it not for Ashley, pleading for him to come home for Christmas in the first place, Deacon wouldn’t have bothered. He’d lasted a day and a half and was now departing two days before Christmas due to the incessant fighting.

Patty drank so much and so often that Deacon was never sure what was the booze and what was truly Patty, and though he decided to blame the booze for her general evilness, he’d made the decision to leave Detroit years before and had never looked back…until now.

So he’d gone from family drama to boyfriend drama and now found himself all alone in the world once again. The fact Seth had sent an email should have been Deacon’s first clue that something was up, the man was addicted to texting. Perhaps Seth decided a breakup message of I hate you was too harsh for a text?

From where Deacon sat, fewer words could’ve been utilized.

The apartment they’d shared back in Chicago was Seth’s, and he’d sweetly mentioned that he’d be on a cruise over the next week and could Deacon please have all his shit moved out by the time he got back.

Nice to know Seth was worried enough about his well-being to give him so much time to find a new place to live. The entire day had pretty much sucked ass, and he’d been in a daze since getting out of bed that morning. He couldn’t even remember walking up to the counter at the gate and throwing himself onto his sword for the rest of the poor schmucks who were attempting to make it home for the holidays to their so-called loved ones.

People were entirely too horrible to one another in general, Deacon wasn’t sure why he kept trying to connect with anyone at all. It inevitably brought him nothing but heartache.

“From boyfriend to bitterness in…” He glanced down at his watch. “Three hours and forty-two minutes. Impressive.”

Deacon sighed, chuckling sarcastically over his disappointment, taking another quick sip. He became aware that someone else was snickering right along with him. There was no one sitting on his right, so that only left one other option, Mr. Smiley.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your little rant there,” Smiley said, though the expression on his face said otherwise.

“You look real torn up about it.” Deacon smirked, shaking his head when Smiley began laughing harder.

The bartender had placed a Bud Light long neck on the bar in front of Smiley. Deacon was fairly certain he’d never actually ordered it, which meant his neighbor was somewhat of a regular.

Probably trolls for trade here a lot.

“From boyfriend to bitter, huh? Sounds like trouble. He dump you or the other way around?”

“He eviscerated me, if you must know.” Deacon took a sip from his glass and scooped up his phone with his free hand. He tapped on the screen, bringing it to life once more before reading the same horrible paragraph aloud so Smiley could be brought up to speed.

“Jeez,” Smiley said. “That was…wow.” He held up his beer bottle to toast, clinking it against Deacon’s glass. “I’m impressed you’re in as good a shape as you appear to be. Did you love him?”

“It hurts, so I musta, right?” Deacon shrugged, not waiting for an answer before asking, “Say, what’s your name anyway? Can’t keep calling you Mr. Smiley in my head, it’s distracting.”

“Names Steve, Steven actually, but most people call me Steve.”

“I’m Deacon Miller,” he said, before adding flatly, “nice to meet you, Steven Actually.”

“Funny,” he said.

“Hey just ’cause I’m gay and newly eviscerated doesn’t mean I’m tacky. If we end up doing it later, I wanna know your last name.”

One of Smi—Steve…one of Steve’s eyebrows arched as he took a swig off his beer bottle. “It’s Steele. Steven Steele is my name.”

Before he could manage further comment, Deacon interrupted, “Your name is Steve Steele?”

“Um…yeah?” Steve seemed confused. “Have we met before?”

“What are you, porn star or car salesman?”

Steve laughed, blushed slightly as well. “Car salesman, though I’m surprisingly flattered you thought I could pass for a porn star.”

“I’ll admit that porn seemed less likely in Detroit, but hey, who am I to judge, you know?”

“Um…okay,” Steve grinned.

Deacon cringed. “That made sense in my head. Too much liquor, I guess.”

“Considering the day you’ve had, I’d say you’re entitled.”

“Very kind of you, considering you’re a car salesman.”

“Ouch,” Steve said. “I own the dealership if that helps raise my likability quotient.”

“Might be worse, but I’m not really thinking clearly at this point. Sorry. I’m not usually this rude.”

“It’s okay, I am kind of a dick, too.” Steve grinned as Deacon stared back at him in shock over the admission. “What is it you do? Cure nuns with cancer?”

Deacon laughed over the sarcastic delivery. “I’m a nobody, one of those cashier drones, I work at a Target.”

Steve smiled, turning on his stool to face Deacon. “Bet you look awfully cute in those red shirts and khakis. Though I could offer a few suggestions for where they place that bull’s eye.”

Deacon laughed. “Knew I wasn’t wrong about your proclivities.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and took another swig off his beer. “How’d you manage to get time off working retail this close to Christmas?”

“Had a family emergency kinda-thing.”

“Everything okay, I hope? Aside from the ex dumping you, I mean. You know with your family?”

“Just peachy.” Deacon faced Steve, propping up his elbow on the bar for support. “Say, you can’t be too much of a dick, you at least asked how I’m doing, right?”

“Well, you did mention doing me before. I became infinitely more invested at that point.”

Deacon started laughing.

“We’ll blame your evil ex for your rude behavior.” Steve said. “I take it he neglected to mention what a fucking asshole he was.”

It wasn’t a question, more of an assumption.

“No, I apparently suffer from low self-esteem and have an unfortunate attraction to loose-moraled men with little to no character.”

“Sweet, so my chances of getting lucky just skyrocketed.”

Deacon laughed but could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. “Oh yeah, nothing short of you turning out to be a cannibalistic serial killer could spoil that, buddy.”

Steve looked at him sideways. “At some point, I’ll be inquiring about the fact your statement leaves the door open for non-cannibalistic serial killers, but at the moment. I’m too distracted by the possibility of sex to offer any further judgments.”

“Makes sense.” Deacon nodded. “Though as you heard before, I’m apparently not very passionate in the sack, so I wouldn’t get overly excited if I were you.”

“I don’t buy that for one minute,” he said.

“I’m not selling it, dude, so we’re all good.”

“Still don’t believe it.” Steve’s voice lowered, getting slightly huskier in the process as he leaned closer and said, “Lips like yours were made for sucking cock, baby.”

Steve’s warm breath brushed across Deacon’s face as he said the words, resulting in a positive reaction between his legs. He took a drink, using it as an excuse to break eye contact.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

“I’d be more impressed with myself were I not aware your ex shit all over you earlier today.”

“So there’s nowhere to go but up…up to my room…up to your room if you prefer…either way I can feel myself getting up as we speak so…whenever you’re ready.”

Steve smiled, showing off his pearly whites and the slash-like dimples in his cheeks. “I’m not actually staying here, so it will have to be your room if that’s all right?”

“Christ, why would anyone come to this shit-hole if they weren’t staying in the hotel?”

Clifford coughed, making sure Deacon was aware he’d overheard that. The guy was hacking into a lime with a paring knife, which made him seem slightly more menacing.

“My bad.” Deacon shrugged an apology. “Put down the knife and step away from the fruit, buddy.”

Clifford sighed, shaking his head and further signaling his disapproval.

“Let’s just say that tonight is sort of an anniversary of mine and leave it at that,” Steve said, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “I’m here…not celebrating so much as commiserating?”

Deacon opened his mouth to demand more info but was interrupted by the drunkards in the booth.

“Hey, barkeep! It’s almost Santa-fucking-Claus time already! How ’bout you be playin’ some Christmas music? Let’s cheer it up in here with a little Ho, Ho, Ho-ing!”

All the other idiots in his little group began clapping and cheering him on by heckling right along with him. Clifford rolled his eyes, reluctantly heading to the other end of the bar where he began fiddling with a remote. Magically the sound of sleigh bells filled the bar as Tony Bennett crooned ‘Winter Wonderland’.

“Yeah, man, that’s the stuff!” the guy screamed, before he began singing along…badly. “Come on, Scroogies, time to go caroling!”

Before anyone could manage to stop it, the table of women sitting in the next booth began singing, then it bled over into the next booth, and the next, like a virus that couldn’t be neutralized. By the time Frosty the Snowman came on, the entire bar had joined in, even the sadistically judgey Clifford who kindly brought Steve and Deacon another round of drinks and some sort of Irish-creamy peppermint shots.

Deacon couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, so he mainly mouthed along while trying not to laugh. Steven-Actually-Steele had quite the nice voice, however, deep and soothing in an odd way, which somehow made him seem completely un-dick-like, despite having claimed otherwise. Maybe it was the older guy thing, but he put off a disturbingly comforting protective-Dad-like vibe, and Deacon found himself wholly disarmed by it—though the booze likely helped.

They’d run through five or six songs and were both laughing hysterically when Deacon finally reached over, giving Steve’s leg a squeeze. His laughing slowly subsided when Deacon didn’t remove it.

Steve nodded, swigging the rest of his beer in one long gulp before hopping up off his bar stool, signaling he was ready to go. Deacon did the same, waving down the bartender so he could finally settle that tab. Steve tossed a couple of fifties on the bar and winked at Deacon before making sure Clifford had seen him leave the money.

‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ was being sung/screamed as they walked out. Deacon could hear Steve singing softly from behind him. They paused long enough for Steve to collect his coat, and Deacon realized he was already having trouble catching his breath, knowing what they were about to do. He was drunk enough to not overthink things, and his body was screaming for naked friction, yearning for the comfort that came from the heat of a hard body pressing into his.

Deacon wanted it so much he could feel the heat of his need burning his skin. Nothing else seemed quite as important to him in that moment. He was aware of the questions buzzing around in the back of his mind, most prominently dealing with Steve Steele’s marital status. He pushed all that away. The man wasn’t wearing a ring and as far as he could tell, didn’t appear to have been wearing one recently.

Deacon was determined to let that be enough.

He needed this, if for no other reason than being wanted by someone, hell, anyone at this point. It was paramount to boosting his will to move forward into tomorrow.

There’d be time enough for sadness and heartache later, but tonight he wanted to be the object of someone else’s desire, the object of Steven Steele’s hard, wet affection.

They were staring at one another as the elevator doors closed. The younger couple with the whiney, cranky toddler was likely the only thing that kept them from attacking one another right then. The father was doing his best to soothe the spawn, but somehow, the young mother was aware of the animalistic lusty heat between Steve and himself. Perhaps it was some sort of pheromone thing that only gay men and women were genetically attuned to sniff out, but she was blushing with a slight grin and doing her best to avoid making eye contact.

Deacon, on the other hand, was barely able to tear his gaze away from Steve’s—tension building with each and every ding as the elevator passed another floor. He could practically taste the anticipation—that sensation of the familiarly-unknown that came from a one-night stand with a total stranger.

Christmas was coming early, and Deacon was anxious to unwrap the package standing before him, ready to see what the universe had laid at his feet. He wanted to forget—was ready to have Steve fuck any lingering memories of the past twelve hours away, if only for a little while.

That’s what Deacon needed most in that moment, and Steven-Actually-Steele was willing to help.

Wilde City Press 4th of July Sale !!!


Help Wilde City Press celebrate the start of summer and July 4th. Enjoy 25% of your entire cart from Wednesday July 3rd through Sunday July 7th with the coupon code: WildeFreedom.

To use the code, all you have to do is go through the normal purchasing process on our website (www.wildecity.com). When you get to the check-out it will ask if you have a code.

The 25% off code is: WildeFreedom

Type that in, hit "place order" and the total amount will convert to reflect the discounted price!

And since summer is all about fun, adventure and making great holiday memories. What do the Wilde City authors get up to?

Find out below!!!

We asked our authors to share some of their favorite summer traditions … past, present, and future.

Question #1:

What is your favorite July 4th / Independence Day memory or tradition?

Shae Connor

My favorite July 4th tradition is putting the watermelon in the pool.

See, my extensive extended family mostly lives in and around a small Georgia town, and the main gathering place for as long as I can remember has been the house of one of my grandmother’s sisters. (Both my grandmother and her sister are gone now, but some things just don’t change.)

Every year on the 4th of July, everyone who’s in town gathers at that house for a cookout. There’s a big grill out back, where the manly men types cook the meat. There’s also a pool, and every year, there’s a watermelon that goes in the pool. The kids play with it in the water most of the day, and then after everyone eats, the watermelon gets fished out, washed off, and sliced for everyone to dig in. The water in the pool chills it perfectly, not too cold like it would be from the fridge.

Now I want some pool-cooled watermelon!

I’ve been making up stories for as long as I can remember, but it took me a long time to figure out that maybe I should start writing them down. I started out writing fanfic well over a decade ago, and in 2010, I moved into original fiction. (Though I do still get waylaid by a fanfiction plotbunny now and then.)

Shae is new to Wilde City. Look for Fringes, her Charlie Harding Presents erotic sci-fi short due out later this summer. Visit her at: shaeconnorwrites.com


Owen Keehnen

I am not sure if it was the exactly the 4th of July, but I do recall the fireworks. I was probably 20 or so andFallingAwake_200x300_cvr felt very grown up. I was in my first real apartment with my first real boyfriend. It was night and to escape the heat we climbed out my bedroom window onto the roof. We spread a sheet on the graveled tar and were lying there just holding hands and watching the stars. There was heat lightning to the south. The small town fireworks began about a half hour after dusk and probably lasted a total of five minutes. When they ended, I turned to him and said, “I love you.” I didn’t know exactly what those words entailed, but I knew how I felt and at that moment there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. It was such a feeling of complete contentment. We ended up falling asleep out there on the roof and climbed back inside around 3 a.m. He’s gone now, but whenever I see fireworks I think of him and that rooftop and that moment. It always brings a smile.

In addition to the four poems he contributed to Falling Awake, Owen has two other projects coming soon to Wilde City. The LGBT Book of Days is a fun and comprehensive guide to thousands of the most important dates in LGBT history – it’s great for reference and trivia and a real treat to compile. The second is a humorous novel called Young Digby Swank, a gay coming of age story about growing up Catholic which is hilarious and heartbreaking and heroic all at the same time. Visit Owen on facebook.

Hank Edwards

COWBOYS&VAMPIRES_200x300pxMeet Josh Stanton, orphaned at a young age in the mid-1800s, he has always been considered an outcast in Belkin’s Pass. Now he’s grown into a quiet, well-educated young man full of secrets, the least of which is his love for his best friend, town deputy Dex Wells. But when the ancient vampire Balthazar begins feeding on the residents of Belkin’s Pass, Josh’s secrets prove to be the turning point in a battle for the souls of the townspeople—but at what personal cost? —- Cowboys & Vampires, available now at Wilde City Press.

Visit Hank at hankedwardsbooks.com


Question #2:

What is your favorite Summer memory or tradition?

Geoffrey Knight

My favourite Independence Day moment has to be when Will Smith socks that mean old alien in the chops after they have the dogfight in the canyon and he says something bad-ass like, “You aliens just wrecked my July 4 barbecue and now I’m gonna have me some E.T. burgers because you guys suck!” Oh … you mean a real Independence Day memory, not a scene from the movie! I guess I’ll answer the Best Summer Memory or Tradition question instead.

I don’t think I have one particular memory or tradition that stands out because I love everything about Summer. Being Australian, Summer means lots of public holidays: Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year’s Day and Australia all happen in the space of a month or so, so January pretty much means lots of delicious seafood and days at the beach and your skin feels dusty with sea-salt the whole time, which is a feeling I love. Now that I’ve moved to an island it’s even better; Sydney beaches can get really crowded but up here I can walk from one end of the beach to the other with my dogs and not see a soul. And yes, of course I go in for a skinny dip! ;)

CH_CairoCurse_200x300px_cvr“I want to see.” … “Nash, we’re in Egypt, in the ruins of an ancient city, standing in front of a secret door! Aren’t you curious?”
“Curiosity killed the – ” … “No, I’m not curious.”
The lie was unconvincing enough to give Ryan the confidence to sway him.
Sway him with a kiss. …
“Curious yet?”

You can read Nash’s answer in Cairo Curse, book two in the Vampire Lair series. Visit Geoff at www.geoffreyknightbooks.com


Lloyd Meeker

My favorite summer tradition is honoring the solstice. In one old tradition, Midsummer Night was the time to leave a small dish of brandy in the garden as a gift to the fairies, which I’ve always thought was charming. Inviting the goodwill of nature is always a sensible idea!

I mark the solstice by honoring extremes – the dark of winter in the southern hemisphere and the light of summer in the northern – and the inevitable swing of the one toward the other. It is the wisdom of the Tao, the dance of light and dark, each with the spark of the other in its core.

This idea may seem pretty dry, but try this little experiment: sit on a playground swing and build momentum. Make the point furthest back winter solstice, when movement forward begins, and make the point farthest forward summer solstice, when graceful retreat begins. Feel the delicious centrifugal force as you move, your weightlessness at both far points – and remember the earth, held in her arc by the sun.

Gay PI Russ Morgan doesn’t mind being fifty but hates being single. He’s made peace with being a psychic empath, and he’s managed to build a decent life since getting sober. As he uncovers obscene secrets shrouded in seeming righteousness, he might have to make peace with a sword of justice that cuts the innocent as deeply as the guilty. —- Enigma, coming soon to Wilde City Press.

Visit Lloyd at lloydmeeker.com


Clare London

I wish the UK had July 4 celebrations as well! This summer so far, we’ve had sleet, flood rains, gale force winds and then occasionally a sunny, hot day. I think this is the reason most of our sentimental celebrations take place in the latter half of the year. Or why the British talk constantly about the weather.

Freeman_200x300px_cvrIt seemed sunnier in The Old Days, when I was young(er). One happy memory is of an annual trip with friends to Henley-on-Thames, for a barbeque/picnic beside the river. This was the irresponsible time before kids and mortgages! We always arranged a game of rounders (like baseball, but not), competing with way more enthusiasm than skill, and helped along (or hindered?) by huge amounts of alcohol.

We still have photographic evidence of the fun. A gal sitting in her bikini, draining the last cupful of fruit punch from a litre-sized jug. A chap with his younger brother hauled over his shoulder, running towards the river to throw him in. Various self-inflicted rounders-bat injuries on sunburned shins. Clare, clutching river weeds to her chest because she lost her tube top when she dived in…

Oh those lazy, hazy afternoons of summer!

Meet Freeman, a quiet man who’s not used to sharing his plans, his history, or his emotions. He’s returned to the city on business, a case that has nothing to do with the people he once left behind: his ex-wife, his male ex-lover, and his ex-business partner. He has no plans to engage with any of them again – until he meets Kit, the provocative young man who’s going to pull Freeman from the safety of his shell, whether he wants to or not. —- Freeman, coming soon to Wilde City Press.

Visit Clare at www.clarelondon.co.uk


Eric Arvin

I’m a big music slut any time of the year, but I especially love summer music or music that makes me think of summer. Every spring I make an awesome playlist for the warmer months. There be lots of frivolity and even some slower tunes in the mix. Here are a few from this year’s playlist:

MingledDestinies_200x300px_cvrBoys on the Radio by Hole
Mad About You by Belinda Carlisle
Love This by Cosmo Jarvis
Love Profusion by Madonna (Madonna has a lot of great summer tunes)
Car Wheels on A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams

Midnight City by M83 (they’re last album was a summer spectacular)
I’m Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado
Soak Up the Sun by Sheryl Crow
Summer Fling by kd lang (from her album Invincible Summer)
Summertime Clothes by Animal Collective

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak
Spaceman by The Killers (again, they’ve got a lot of great summery songs)
Boys of Summer by Eric Himan (a great version of the Don Henley classic)
For the Summer by Ray LaMontagne
Summer Days by Norah Jones

Summertime by Ella Fitzgerald
Summer Moved On by A-ha
Freeway by Aimee Mann (Mann’s voice just sounds like summer to me, other Mann Summer songs include 4th of July and Fifty Years After the Fair)
Free Falling by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
End of the Innocence by Don Henley

If I Ever Feel Better by Phoenix
Birmingham by Shovels & Rope
Ramona by Night Beds
Singing in My Sleep by Semisonic
Lightning Bolt by Jake Bugg

Eric Arvin resides in the same sleepy Indiana river town where he grew up. He graduated from Hanover College with a Bachelors in History. He has lived, for brief periods, in Italy and Australia. He has survived brain surgery and his own loud-mouthed personal demons. Eric is the author of The Mingled destinies of Crocodiles and Men, and various other sundry and not-so-sundry writings. He intends to live the rest of his days with tongue in cheek and eyes set to roam.

Visit Eric at ericarvin.blogspot.com


Patrick Darcy

Without a doubt, on a cold summer night in Dublin, I dream of being naked on an Ibizan beach. Preferably Playa Es Cavallet, the gay nudist beach. It’s a bit of a trek; you have to get past the German and Dutch naturalist before getting to the promised land of sexy, naked homos. I see it now, hot muscled hunks, with tattoos and great big…….

ConfGayRugbyPlayer2_200x300px_cvrThe beach is all white sand lined with cool beach bars, and the sound of funky music fills the air. Such a great relaxed vibe and beautiful people cruising each other. To say it’s sexual would be an understatement.

Summer is all about being naked, however, there are occasional problems. As a weak and feeble man, I am constantly being shown up by my hardon. I want to be dignified and European. But I’m Irish, I see a hot naked guy and, well, my cock just has to show its appreciation. Total nude beach faux pas. Oh the shame of it! The only saving grace is that my buns are rather pert. So I spend most of the day laying on my front, peaking through my Roy Orbison shades at all the beach talent.

OK. now I’m horny!

Hi! I’m Patrick Darcy. Rugby player, Irishman and writer of full strength gay erotica. Follow me at patrickdarcybooks.com, as I comment on life in Dublin, hot men and all the things that make me tick. There are two big passions in my life: great sex and rugby. Quite often, these are combined! I love the thrill of competition, the power, the intensity, the brotherhood of rugby.

Oh, and I love being naked!

Anne Brooke

My favourite summer memory is my mother’s homemade lemonade. She only ever made it in summer as she said it was an outdoor drink and needed a big dose of sunshine to make the bubbles pop. Apparently winter would make the whole drink go grey and flat, and as I was young I believed her – and in a way I still do. Homemade lemonade only ever appeared about three or four times a year and only when we were very good and she was pleased with us. It wasn’t ever something she prepared for either but, in our CH_BeginningOfKn_200x300px_cvrfamily group, she would slip away quietly and after a while one or another of us would realise she was missing. From then on the excitement would mount and then – at last! – half an hour or so later she would reappear with a huge jug of lovely lemony-yellow bubbly drink and a selection of glasses. Drinking it meant you had enough sugar in your system to last you well into the next month, but it was like a blast of sunshine and citrus in the mouth, I can tell you. Sheer bliss!

The night I met Luke Milton, the last thing I was looking for was any kind of relationship …

“What the hell are you doing?” …
“Waiting for you …”
“You’ve not covered up your mark.” … “You must have taken some stick for it from the office.”
“Why should I cover it up? You gave it to me. That’s worth all the stick in the world.”

Read the rest of Luke and Alan’s interactions in The Beginning of Knowledge, available now at Wilde City Press. Visit Anne at www.annebrooke.com


Ewan Creed

CH_LeatherbarMural_200x300_cvrI’ll set the scene for you – a rowboat, a bottle of wine, a low moon, and a good man. We had met on the beach that morning and clicked, so after hanging out all day I invited him out to dinner and then for a ride on the lake. There was just something about him. It was so easy to talk to him. I told him more about myself than I told my best friends and he shared just as much about himself. That evening was nothing special in the scheme of things, and yet perfect at the same time. It was one of those connections you just don’t forget. He was the first person I ever told that I wanted to be a writer.

Meet Alex, a man caught up in the leather bar scene of 1975, a man consumed by the feeling of sexual abandon and freedom. One night Alex gets more than he bargained for and is transported into a dark carnal wonderland of sexual abandon and perpetual desire, a world that can trap a man for all eternity. —- The Leather Bar Mural, available now from Wilde City Press.

Follow all of Ewan’s release dates HERE.

Question #3:

If you could escape to anywhere in the world this summer, where would it be?

J.P. Barnaby

J. P. Barnaby, an award-winning gay romance novelist, is the author of over a dozen books including the Little Boy Lost series, the Forbidden Room series, and Aaron. As a bisexual woman, J.P. is a proud member of the GLBT community both online and in her small town on the outskirts of Chicago. A member of Mensa, she is described as brilliant but troubled, sweet but introverted, and talented but deviant. She spends her days writing software and her nights writing erotica, which is, of course, far more interesting. The spare time that she carves out between her career and her novels is spent reading about the concept of love, which, like some of her characters, she has never quite figured out for herself.

J.P.’s new Rentboy series is coming to Wilde City press later this year. Visit J.P. at www.JPBarnaby.com



I live in New Zealand and summer here starts in December. For someone born in the UK, seeing bikinis and sun lotion next to Christmas trees and decorations just isn’t right. A holiday somewhere hot and sultry with exotic cocktails might be most people’s idea of summer bliss. However, I’d like to escape to celebrate my summer Christmas in Canada with snow, caribou, and lots of mulled wine.

Living in clean, green New Zealand, I am an author, foodie, wine buff and Art Historian. I write M/M romance, particularly paranormal, sci-fi and fantasy, and like to add passion, and a twist, to my tales. I grew up on Dr Who, Star Trek and The Night Stalker. I never leave the house without at least one notebook, ready to jot down anything the muse may whisper. Visit me on facebook.

Charlie HardingCHP_EdwinPabon_1

I would scoop up my partner Scotty Rage and we’d meet up with our 10 closest friends at a beach somewhere. Seafood, cocktails, sand, sun and the people we care about… Our favorite combination!

Charlie Harding joined the ranks of adult performers in February 2012. He has won multiple awards including "Best New Cummer," "Best Daddy," "Best Ass Eater 2012" and “Manly Man”. Charlie has also put his multiple college degrees to work building network of business ventures including launching his own line of personally selected gay erotica at www.charliehardingpresents.com. Charlie lives in Atlanta, Georgia with his partner and fiance, Scotty Rage.

Ethan Stone

I would love to go on a cruise to somewhere warm but not too hot. I want a place with a beach, cool clear water and some hot cabana boys. The hot cabana boys are not just for eye candy, they’d be there for inspiration. The whole trip would be for inspiration since I’ve been having a hard time with writing lately. PastTense_200x300_cvrBeing in a relaxing environment with pretty eye candy all around me could really help with my writing block. Additionally, it would benefit my health as well. If I were to lay shirtless in the sun, soaking up all that vitamin D, I’d have all the energy I need for anything that happened to come up. :-)

Anyone wanting to contribute to the "Save Ethan’s Mental and Physical Health" Cruise feel free to use Paypal.

“Did you like what you saw out there?” …
“You’re a very … talented dancer.” …
“Anything else you liked?”
“You fishing for a compliment, Holt? You don’t seem the type to need your ego stroked.”
“Maybe it’s not my ego I want s…”

See if Jason Holt ever gets around to telling Quinn what he wants stroked, Past Tense available now at Wilde City Press. Visit Ethan at www.ethanjstone.com.

New Interview at Top2Bottom Reviews!


SecondTimeLucky_432An awesome 5 Star review review for Second Time Lucky and a brand new interview are up at Top2Bottom Reviews where they’ve been featuring the authors of MLR Press all month long.

The Interview:

Put your hands together for the one and only: Ethan Day!!

Ethan, thank you for taking some down time and spending it with us. Let’s start this off with a beverage. We have coffee, tea, some sort of juice (I think it’s been in here a few weeks) and soda. What would you like?

I brought my own vat of Diet Coke, but thank you anyway. : )

Well that’s being prepared now isn’t it? Charles, stand by please. Ethan, can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

I could, but then I’d have to kill you – which wouldn’t go well as I’ve been known to pass-out at the sight of blood. I’d be incarcerated for sure, just lying there for the police to find once they arrived on the scene. I’d be the laughing stock of Cell-block D! Plus, I’m pretty sure that whole gang-bang in the shower scenario is really best experienced through the safety of porn. It is fun to say though! Seriously…say Gang-Bang over and over and you’ll see! Even funnier if you use that Little Caesar’s Pizza-Pizza voice. Of course, it’s not like I’ve ever taken part in an actual gang-bang, so I can’t speak from experience, but lots of things you’d think would be sexy in theory actually aren’t  in reality – being stranded on a deserted island immediately comes to mind. Have you seen Survivor lately? When it looks like someone wiped their ass with Blair Warner, you know it’s not pretty. Those people look exceedingly unsexy. Talk about some Facts of Life! It’s TV, people…give those bitches a brush and a bar of soap for crying out loud!

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