4 Flame M/M Erotic GFY (Gay For You) Romance Novella
Blurb:
Authors know that their
muse is a fickle creature. Best-selling spy novelist Stephen Ramsey has been in
a hate-hate relationship with his inspiration for months. When Stephen's
publisher lays a legal ultimatum upon him, with a rapidly approaching deadline,
he knows he must do something to kick-start his creativity or face the
unemployment line. His daughter comes up with a possible answer: a summer camp
for the creative soul. With nothing to lose, Stephen packs up his laptop,
phonograph and beloved record albums and heads from Greenwich Village to the
Catskill Mountains.
There, among a horde of
college students attending for extra credits, is Declan Pomeroy, a photographer
of fey creatures who is twenty-two years younger than Stephen. The woods are a
magical place, and he quickly finds himself falling under the spell of the
free-spirited photographer. Confusion wars with desire inside Stephen as he
succumbs to the feelings welling up inside. But, sadly, summer camp always has
to end. Can a man who has just found himself really leave the person that makes
his heart sing?
Available at:
Excerpt
A
sharp rap on the door a week later jolted me out of my zone. My eyes were dry.
I looked over my shoulder at the door, my mind still lingering on the rambling
oration I had been writing. No, it was not the next Mick Dell. What I had been
writing for the past two days was literary vomit, if I were being honest. It
was stream-of-consciousness crap for sure, a fifteen-page run-on sentence
hidden under the regurgitation of masticated wordage. By God, it felt good to put words on virtual paper, even if it was just
journaling.
"Come
in," I called loudly over Hall & Oates on the record player. Declan
peeked around the door. A slight arrhythmia occurred in my chest. I hurried to
save and close the Word document. A lot of what I had been spewing out revolved
around the young man entering my space. For as slight as he was, he certainly
filled the bungalow. "Would you like a beer?"
He
smiled in that weird whimsical way of his then rushed over to stand in front of
the old portable record player I toted everywhere.
"Wow,
you have vinyl," he said.
I
closed my laptop and placed it on the round table in front of the loveseat.
"A
whole box," I offered as I pushed to my bare feet. I noticed that Declan
had no shoes once more. He had nice feet. Small and well formed. My feet
belonged on an orangutan, according to my daughter. "Do I
have to card you?"
He
laughed softly and shook his head. His hair flowed around his head with the
movement. The lamp highlighted small streaks of summer gold amid the dark
brown.
"I'm
twenty-two. Man, these are awesome." He dropped to his knees to flip
through the box of albums. I went to the fridge as he whispered to himself.
"I don’t know any of these bands," he told me after I tapped his
shoulder with a cold one. He was clad in brown cargo shorts and a white tank
top cut low under his toned arms. The shirt hung off him. Declan took the beer,
sipped it gingerly, set it beside him on the floor, and continued examining my
music.
I
sat down on the loveseat, wildly curious about what had brought this
photographer of fey creatures to my door this evening. For a long while, I
contented myself with simply enjoying his reactions to some of the more obscure
groups he found. His face and eyes were expressive, amazingly so at times. He
barely touched his beer. After about ten minutes passed, the record needed
turning over. I rose and walked over to the desk the player rested on.
"So,
what brings you here tonight?" I asked casually as I lifted the needle
from the record and flipped it over. When he didn’t reply, I looked down at
him. His gaze rested on me. A surge of raw lust raced through me to see him
kneeling there. The album nearly slid from my fingers. What was going on with
me? I was straight. I had been married three times and had a child two years
younger than this capricious young man.
"It’s
a full moon. Do you want to come capture the fey on film with me?"
God yes.
"Really?" I asked as I lined up the hole in the album with the
spindle. "Sure."
Declan
smiled. His teeth were white and straight. I wanted to kiss him. No, it was
more than a mere want. It was a crazy, irrational, wild need to kiss him, taste
him, and feel him pressed tightly to me. My cock began to lengthen. I turned
from him sitting there on his calves so enticingly.
"I'll
be back at midnight," he announced as he sprang to his feet. "Wear as
little as possible."
"Okay."
Out
he went. A June bug flew in as Declan exited. The massive beetle bounced around
the lampshade. The crickets outside quieted as my captivating guest bounced
through the grass. I let the album slide down the spindle, then bent over to
pick up the bottle of beer my neighbor had left behind. Would it be too weird
to drink after him hoping to taste him on the glass?
A
sharp rap on the door a week later jolted me out of my zone. My eyes were dry.
I looked over my shoulder at the door, my mind still lingering on the rambling
oration I had been writing. No, it was not the next Mick Dell. What I had been
writing for the past two days was literary vomit, if I were being honest. It
was stream-of-consciousness crap for sure, a fifteen-page run-on sentence
hidden under the regurgitation of masticated wordage. By God, it felt good to put words on virtual paper, even if it was just
journaling.
"Come
in," I called loudly over Hall & Oates on the record player. Declan
peeked around the door. A slight arrhythmia occurred in my chest. I hurried to
save and close the Word document. A lot of what I had been spewing out revolved
around the young man entering my space. For as slight as he was, he certainly
filled the bungalow. "Would you like a beer?"
He
smiled in that weird whimsical way of his then rushed over to stand in front of
the old portable record player I toted everywhere.
"Wow,
you have vinyl," he said.
I
closed my laptop and placed it on the round table in front of the loveseat.
"A
whole box," I offered as I pushed to my bare feet. I noticed that Declan
had no shoes once more. He had nice feet. Small and well formed. My feet
belonged on an orangutan, according to my daughter. "Do I
have to card you?"
He
laughed softly and shook his head. His hair flowed around his head with the
movement. The lamp highlighted small streaks of summer gold amid the dark
brown.
"I'm
twenty-two. Man, these are awesome." He dropped to his knees to flip
through the box of albums. I went to the fridge as he whispered to himself.
"I don’t know any of these bands," he told me after I tapped his
shoulder with a cold one. He was clad in brown cargo shorts and a white tank
top cut low under his toned arms. The shirt hung off him. Declan took the beer,
sipped it gingerly, set it beside him on the floor, and continued examining my
music.
I
sat down on the loveseat, wildly curious about what had brought this
photographer of fey creatures to my door this evening. For a long while, I
contented myself with simply enjoying his reactions to some of the more obscure
groups he found. His face and eyes were expressive, amazingly so at times. He
barely touched his beer. After about ten minutes passed, the record needed
turning over. I rose and walked over to the desk the player rested on.
"So,
what brings you here tonight?" I asked casually as I lifted the needle
from the record and flipped it over. When he didn’t reply, I looked down at
him. His gaze rested on me. A surge of raw lust raced through me to see him
kneeling there. The album nearly slid from my fingers. What was going on with
me? I was straight. I had been married three times and had a child two years
younger than this capricious young man.
"It’s
a full moon. Do you want to come capture the fey on film with me?"
God yes.
"Really?" I asked as I lined up the hole in the album with the
spindle. "Sure."
Declan
smiled. His teeth were white and straight. I wanted to kiss him. No, it was
more than a mere want. It was a crazy, irrational, wild need to kiss him, taste
him, and feel him pressed tightly to me. My cock began to lengthen. I turned
from him sitting there on his calves so enticingly.
"I'll
be back at midnight," he announced as he sprang to his feet. "Wear as
little as possible."
"Okay."
Out
he went. A June bug flew in as Declan exited. The massive beetle bounced around
the lampshade. The crickets outside quieted as my captivating guest bounced
through the grass. I let the album slide down the spindle, then bent over to
pick up the bottle of beer my neighbor had left behind. Would it be too weird
to drink after him hoping to taste him on the glass?
Author Bio
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs,
reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic
books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with
her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic
fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending
her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of
fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter,
Pinterest, and GoodReads.
Gone
Writing Publishing Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases
Pink
Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
A
Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat
Series)
O
Captain! My Captain! (Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat
Series)
Reality
Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Language
of Love (Book Five of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Final
Shifts (Book Six of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Clean
Sweep (Book One of the Venom series)
Coming March 2, 2016 . . . Twirly Girl (Book Two of the Venom Series)
Torquere
Press Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Two
Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss
anthology)
Two
Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham
Two
Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3: He's a Lumberjack and He`s Undead
Love
of the Hunter
Goaltender`s
Penalty
All
I Want for Christmas - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
Early
to Rise - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity
Sip Anthology)
Night of the Jackal
An
Erie Halloween
An
Erie Operetta
Back
to the Garden (Also part of the Mythologically Torqued Anthology)
Coming April 2016 . . . An
Erie Garden Party
Ellora`s
Cave Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Bound,
Boarded and Bagged
Two
Man Advantage
Game
Misconduct
Coming soon . .
. Full Strength
Self-Published
Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Crashing
the Crease
Of
Gods & Goats
Of
Heroes & Hay Bales
Of
Titans & Tractors
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