Category: gay erotic romance

New Release: Uncertainty by Ryan Field Gay Romance

New Release: Uncertainty by Ryan Field Gay Romance

Here’s my latest, newest release titled, Uncertainty.

It’s a New Adult erotic gay romance that focuses a lot on two young gay men who know very little about gay culture. In fact, they don’t even know what tea dance is.

And they are curious.

When Gus Baldwin realizes that his gay dad is serious about marrying a much older man for safety and security instead of love, he concocts a plot that he hopes will change his dad’s mind. Even though his other dad has been dead for over a year, Gus wants his surviving dad to find love and happiness someday with a new husband. 

However, their financial situation is about as bad as it gets and they’re on the brink of losing their grand old Victorian home, and everything about their perfect lives is threatened. So Gus winds up putting his own marriage on hold with the guy he’s been in love with since high school. It’s so bad he’s even thinking of quitting college to help support his dad and his younger brother just so his dad won’t have to marry the older man. 

After Gus convinces his dad to take a road trip in their vintage 1950s station wagon to their getaway cabin in the mountains, along with his younger brother, his future husband, and their nineteen year old dog named Special, their lives change in ways none of them ever anticipated. And even though the future is still uncertain in some respects, they discover a few things about themselves on this trip they never could have predicted.

I’ve posted links below.  It will be available in print or digital.


All Romance E-books


It will also be available at iTunes and a few other places. I’ll post the links as I get them.

Free Gay Excerpt: "Uncertainty" by Ryan Field

Free Gay Excerpt: “Uncertainty” by Ryan Field

Here’s a free excerpt from my upcoming release titled, “Uncertainty.” I actually do these things from time to time because it helps me with the very final editing. I have the book edited first, and then I do all the final revises alone. That’s the hardest part of indie publishing for me, and why I prefer working with publishers. I need to know that the final edits were done by me. And it never seems like enough. I don’t even have a cover yet for this one, but posting it here on the blog actually helps me see it differently.

This is a raw excerpt, so please keep that in mind.

Here’s the blurb.

When Gus Baldwin realizes that his gay dad is serious about marrying a much older man for safety and security instead of love, he concocts a plot that he hopes will change his dad’s mind. Even though his other dad has been dead for over a year, Gus wants his surviving dad to find love and happiness someday with a new husband. 

However, their financial situation is about as bad as it gets and they’re on the brink of losing their grand old Victorian home, and everything about their perfect lives is threatened. So Gus winds up putting his own marriage on hold with the guy he’s been in love with since high school. It’s so bad he’s even thinking of quitting college to help support his dad and his younger brother just so his dad won’t have to marry the older man. 

After Gus convinces his dad to take a road trip in their vintage 1950s station wagon to their getaway cabin in the mountains, along with his younger brother, his future husband, and their nineteen year old dog named Special, their lives change in ways none of them ever anticipated. And even though the future is still uncertain in some respects, they discover a few things about themselves on this trip they never could have predicted. 

Here’s the Excerpt:

Every year in June, Palmer Hill High School had an awards ceremony that focused on the achievements of students, faculty, staff, and parents. It was an end of the school year tradition held on the last day of school that had been going on since 1958. Almost everyone in the little town of Palmer Hill, Pennsylvania attended.
Even though the awards were the main focus, the program included local talent performing amateur acts that could range from Miss Ina Jennings, the school librarian, singing opera, to Mrs. Betsy Dare, the school nurse, doing stand-up comedy. Once in a while Ms. Sister Herbert…her legal first name was actually Sister…the biology teacher, gave a poetry reading. Last year one of the history teachers, Ms. LaTonda Shaqueille, read an excerpt from her recently self-published novel about the Alamo, which put a few people to sleep and tempted others in the back row to Tweet and Instagram.
In between the awards and entertainment, light refreshments were served in the main hall. Big Martha Jasper brought her homemade lemon squares, Elise Freemont came with huge trays of brownies, and Miss Johnson, the transgender gym teacher, brought gluten-free kale cookies that most people avoided. There was so much food baked by the hands of good natured Christian women everyone wound up taking something home at the end of the night.
There were also certain parts of the evening that everyone anticipated with smiles and whispers. Who would win Parent of the Year was one of them. It used to be called the Mom of the Yearaward, however, the award committee had changed that a few years earlier due to the fact that so many stay-at-home dads were now so involved with school projects. Even though Palmer Hill was only a small town in Pennsylvania, they prided themselves on being progressive in all things social and political. In fact, the school board actually gave Principal Mary Lucille a raise in pay after she came out of the closet and announced she was marrying a former nun named Joan Berkley, the town’s librarian, in the Gazebo at the town square. For one solid month, almost everyone in town had a rainbow flag hanging on their front porch in a show of support.
Another popular feature of the evening that kept everyone on the edge was a former Palmer Hill High School student and star football player, Gus Baldwin. Although Gus now attended the local community college where he majored in music, he still sang his version of Hallelujah at the end of the evening, right after they announced the Parent of the Year award. If Gus had had any say in the matter, he would have stopped performing after he graduated. However, his gay dad, Henry Baldwin, was the music teacher at Palmer Hill High School, and head of the Palmer Hill Glee Club, and he begged Gus to continue doing it every year. And when Gus’s other dad died suddenly in an automobile accident a year earlier, Gus couldn’t refuse.
The fact that Gus looked like Nick Jonas and sounded like Harry Connick Jr. drove most of the women to pull tissues out of their purses while he sang. The men tapped their feet and gazed at him. Little children would stop fidgeting and stare at the stage the moment he hit the first note. Gus’s smooth even voice, combined with his thick brown hair and tight slim body, brought the proverbial curtain down every year. The award ceremony wouldn’t have been the same without Gus, and it compensated for having to sit through Chester Bork’s awful accordion rendition of Stars Fell on Alabama, and curvy Misty Robinson’s fire baton twirling act.
During intermission that year, while everyone raced toward the lemon square table, Gus heard a text alert and he glanced down at his phone. He smiled when he read it. “Meet me in the locker room right now.”
He read it again, shook his head, and replied, “I can’t meet you now. I’m going to perform soon. I’ll see you later tonight after the award ceremony.”
Gus waited a moment, and then read the reply to his reply. He knew it was coming. “Get back here now.”
He smiled, turned, and headed back to the locker rooms where the football players showered. He knew it would be empty. They used the girl’s locker room as a dressing room for the awards ceremony because everyone claimed the boy’s locker room smelled too damp and musty. Principal Mary Lucille, who had always preferred the girl’s locker room anyway, claimed the scent of swampy young men in the boy’s locker room was so strong it made her left eye twitch and she refused to step through the doorway.
The smell of young men didn’t bother Gus at all. It made him feel comfortable in a way that was hard to describe. When he entered the dark boy’s locker room that night he took a deep breath, inhaled, and smiled. As he crossed to the back where the showers were located, he heard a locker door slam. He figured it had to be his boyfriend, Craig Hasselthorn, because everyone else was out front eating lemon squares and drinking surgery orange punch out of little cardboard containers.
“Where are you?” Gus said, as he rounded a locker room bench. He spotted a discarded jock strap on the floor. He hadn’t been back there since he’d graduated from High School and so many memories came rushing back to him.
“I’m back here,” Craig said. “I’ve got something real special for you.”
Gus followed the sound of his voice to a locker room bench near the shower room entrance and laughed. “Oh, I’ll bet you do.”
He found Craig sitting in the middle of the bench, with his strong, fuzzy legs hanging over each side, resting back on his hands. Craig wasn’t wearing anything except a jock strap and a great big smile.

The Rainbow Detective Agency: The Wedding; 1950’s Gay Advice; Would You Be Straight?

The Rainbow Detective Agency: The Wedding

Here’s the next book in the Rainbow Detective series, The Wedding. In short, without giving any spoilers, Blair and Proctor travel cross country to Provincetown to get marred for two reasons…one is business related and the other is so that Proctor’s parents who live in Connecticut can attend the wedding. This book is a lot more emotional than the other books and Proctor softens a little at times when he least expects it. He’s facing serious life issues with his family and he’s growing up fast.

They are calling this “Book 7” on Amazon, however, it’s really book 6. It’s being called “7” because Amazon considers Book 5…the box set…an actual book, too. I can’t control that one, so the best I can do is explain it.  If you have any questions, you can e-mail me. My e-mail is on the sidebar in “About.”

There’s a lot of sex in the book, but that’s not what the book is about. I see loud mouthed authors complaining about too much sex in books all the time without ever considering one important factor: if the sex were removed from this book the story would still stand on its own. I’ve already proven that with Chase of a Dream by releasing the version with sex, and the version without. I wish more erotic authors would do this, too. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to listen to the sex haters complain about too much sex. It really would shut them up. It’s also an excellent exercise in editing to see if you really do have a strong story line.

But I digress, with a smile…

Here’s the blurb:

Want to escape into pure male/male fantasy and romance? Would you like to meet two hot men who love and trust each other enough to invite other hot men into their bedroom? The Rainbow Detective Agency is the place to go for that and more. 

After Blair gets shot working on a disgruntled author case, Proctor and Blair decide to get legally married. 

When they plan their small wedding in Provincetown instead of Los Angeles, they meet a handsome young guy named Cameron Marcus with Internet fame, hoping to hire him as a private detective.
The problem is they know nothing about Cameron except his fleeting fame, which makes Proctor far more cautious than Blair.

What will happen if Cameron decides to take the job at the detective agency and move to Los Angeles? Will young sexy Cameron turn out to be perfect for the job, or will he be the worst mistake Blair ever made? 

A steamy, sexy male/male romance, with humor, wit, love and emotion that has just the right amount of tenderness to bring a few tears to your eyes.

This book is a stand-alone in the The Rainbow Detective series and books one to four can be purchased as a box set.

You can check the rest out here, on Amazon.

1950’s Gay Advice

Those of us who weren’t around in the 1950’s often take so much for granted when it comes to everything LGBT+ related. I know I’m guilty of that more than I probably should be.  Not all advice back then was good advice when it came anything gay related.

But it wasn’t all bad. This is the advice one father gave his gay son in the 1950’s…

One day, Patrick’s father, sensing his son was gay, sat him down and gave him a piece of advice he still carries with him to this day: “Don’t sneak. Because if you sneak … it means you think you’re doing the wrong thing.”

“Of all the things a father in 1959 could have told his gay son,” Patrick recalls, “my father tells me to be proud of myself and not sneak. … I had the patron saint of dads for sissies. No, I didn’t know it at the time, but I know now.”

You can check out the rest here. 

Would You Be Straight?

I always find this interesting. It asks gay people the question that if you could be straight, would you?

We admit when we came a across the below Buzzfeed video titled “If You Could Be Straight, Would You?” we winced a bit, imagining the sad stories and even sadder desires to have been born more “normal.”

But it’s a pleasant surprise to hear the overwhelming pride from so many factions within the LGBTQ community — that even when there are hurdles along life’s road, these fabulous queer folks wouldn’t have it any other way.

You can check out the video here. You’ll like it.

I can tell you without thinking twice about it that I wouldn’t want to be straight for any amount of money in the world. I would have missed waaay too much fun in my life, a lot of which has been incorporated into my books. 

Lesbian Rapist; FREE Gay Excerpt: Second Chance

Lesbian Rapist

This is an interesting case because it almost slipped through the cracks, at the expense of a victim who was left psychologically damaged for life. In 2010 a lesbian, Millicent Gaika, was raped because she was a lesbian. The rapist, Andile Ngcoza, claimed he raped her to “show her she was a woman.” He not only raped her, but beat, strangled and tortured her for five hours. He was convicted in 2011 but failed to show up in court for sentencing and then vanished for two years. Evidently, they caught him and he was recently sentenced to 22 years in prison.

In final court proceedings this week, prosecutors at Wynberg Magistrate’s Court not only pointed out Ngcoza had three previous sexual attack convictions including sodomy and double rape, but also presented a psychological evaluation on Gaika.

The report revealed the attack left Gaika with nightmares and alcohol abuse issues. She also reportedly nearly killed herself in 2012.

It’s a good thing I’m not a judge. He’d be in prison for the rest of his life.

You can read the entire story in detail here.

FREE Gay Excerpt: Second Chance

Here’s a free excerpt from my newest indie release, Second Chance, which will be an ongoing series for a while. The theme behind the series deals with gay men getting second chances in life…but only if they want them. It’s also about choices, and how we often wonder about them sometimes…and wonder how things might have turned out if we’d made other choices.

Here’s the blurb for the first book, a 21,000 word novella that will be priced at .99. The book will be up for sale this weekend, and I’ll post links to where it’s being sold later today.

In this first novella of the Second Chance series, an older gay man who has lived a closeted life for ninety-two years is presented with choices one last time. Who hasn’t wondered how things might have turned out if only they’d made one or two different choices in their lives? Who hasn’t contemplated what it would be like for the chance to do things all over again a different way, if only that were possible?

When ninety-two year old Andy Walker shuffles out to his beloved vegetable garden one morning in June, he gets the surprise of his life. He winds up in the last place he could ever imagine, with the man of his dreams telling him there’s still time for a second chance and there’s still time for him to choose a different path than the one he’s already followed…but only if he’s willing to take the risk and revisit one of the most pivotal and painful moments of his life. There are no guarantees or promises of happily-ever-after, and no one can make Andy’s choices for him. And if he agrees to return to the year 1950 when he was still young and strong and handsome, only he will know whether or not it’s possible to alter the course of his entire life thanks to one unusual encounter with a stranger named Chip.


Even though Andy Walker would be turning ninety-three years old in a couple of weeks he wasn’t the kind of old man who could sit in a chair and stare out a window all day. In spite of numerous requests to move into one of those assisted living facilities from his only living relative, a seventy year old niece who lived in Chicago and visited two or three times a year, Andy planned to die at the ranch in Montana where he’d lived most of his life.

He still had decent eyesight, his hearing wasn’t that bad on a good day, and he only needed a cane on days when his hip really bothered him. He had a cleaning woman twice a week who did laundry, prepared meals, and went over the entire house. And a caretaker who mowed, weeded, white-washed, and handled what Andy didn’t feel safe doing anymore. He even drove into town two or three times a week in the same Jeep Cherokee he’d had for over twenty-five years.

Andy wasn’t a profound or deeply religious man. The one thing he’d noticed as he’d passed through life was the way he kept losing things that seemed so insignificant when he’d been younger, but continued to grow more important as he’d aged. He’d started out noticing he’d lost a cheap tie clip, or a pair of cuff links, or a page of sheet music he’d once enjoyed playing. Then one day he noticed he was losing his hair at the temples. By the time he noticed he’d lost the tight skin tone on his thighs and everything sagged and creased, he decided to hold on to the things over which he had control for as long as possible.

One of those things was his small vegetable garden next to the barn where Andy and his late wife had once boarded and trained horses. When Andy and Sarah June Walker had purchased the working ranch in western Montana many years earlier thanks to a cash wedding gift from his in-laws, Andy had always found time to plant a small vegetable garden in a long narrow section near the barn he’d surrounded with a white picket fence and chicken wire. The garden became his sanity sometimes. He would go there to forget about all he’d missed in life and all he’d sacrificed to do the right thing. In his case, doing the right thing had been marrying a nice girl he’d gotten into trouble one night when he’d been too drunk to remember what he’d been doing. When the baby that had changed the entire course of his life was delivered still born he was already married and there wasn’t much to do but settle into the life he’d chosen.

It wasn’t a bad life, not by any means. Although Sarah June never wanted another child, she made a good home, handled a good deal of work at the ranch that would have made most women scowl, and she had a sharp sense of humor that could always make Andy smile. He got her through breast cancer when she was in her forties; she got him through the burst appendix that almost took him at fifty-two years old. They had friends from Sarah June’s church with whom they went out to dinner, they had an annual Christmas party each year the first weekend in December, and they took a trip to Florida every winter when things were slow at the ranch.

When Sarah June first suggested they get twin beds because she claimed Andy tossed and turned too much in the middle of the night, Andy just shrugged and agreed. They’d been married fifteen years by then. He’d wanted to suggest it first but didn’t know how she’d react. A few years after that, Sarah June claimed it would be best for them to have separate bedrooms altogether because his snoring kept her up late at night. Andy didn’t mind this either. He moved into the guest room overlooking the barn that same night and never left.

It would have been a nice, easy life had it not been for the daydreams and the thoughts he often had whenever he saw one of the cowboys on the ranch wearing a tight pair of jeans move his legs a certain way. These thoughts had always been there, unnatural and cutting to the deepest part of his soul. And he’d always forced them out of his mind because he’d always been told they were wrong. And in the same respect, he’d always hired the best looking, most rugged, handsome young men to work at the ranch. Though he never actually admitted any of this aloud to anyone, he couldn’t help those strong feelings that stirred deeply in his body as he watched the rough young men lope to and from the barn with their scuffed up cowboy boots. In the summer he had to wear dark glasses a good deal of the time because the young men always removed their shirts on the hottest days, which could be both distracting and dangerous if he was working with machinery.

So Andy found two releases that kept him from acting on these strong urges: one release of a more carnal nature made him feel guilty when he was finished, the second made him feel as if he’d accomplished something worthwhile and created something no one else could. The second release was the garden, where he could turn nothing into something. It changed all the time; each year he planted a different variety of vegetables. And when he was down on his hands and knees digging in the dirt he found it was the only place he could forget all about his attraction toward other men and lose himself in something that was simple and mindless…and yet at the same time as natural as his attraction toward other men.

This particular year, he’d only planted a few tomatoes and peppers. There was only so much a ninety-two year old man could do, even if he was still as thin as he’d been when he was twenty-five. There was only so much he could eat. As it was he knew he’d wind up giving away most of the tomatoes and peppers at the end of the summer to his hired help and friends in town. But he didn’t mind because he didn’t garden to eat the vegetables. He gardened to grow and nurture and fill a void.

On a Wednesday morning in early June that year, only weeks before his ninety-third birthday, he set his coffee mug in the kitchen sink and headed out to the garden to see if the rains from the night before had done any damage. No one came to the house on Wednesdays. The cleaning woman worked at another house on Wednesdays and the caretaker came on Thursdays to mow and trim. He didn’t mind being alone, because no one would be around to remind him to take the damn cane that always seemed to slow him down more than help him move faster. All the people around him seemed to be fixated with him using the cane. Even the niece in Chicago ended her weekly Sunday afternoon phone call with, “And don’t forget to use that cane, Uncle.”

As he headed out the back door that Wednesday morning, he glanced at the cane leaning against the old Formica countertop that had been there since the 1940’s and flipped his middle finger. Then he lifted his head, squared his back, and headed down to the barn on his own two feet, the way he’d been walking around all his life. He’d learned that if he concentrated on his footing and looked down while he walked he didn’t stagger and sway as much.

At least he still had his mind after all these years. And he was only going down to the barn to make sure the slope that had been forming from weeks of heavy rain hadn’t washed out his freshly planted tomatoes and peppers. He could have waited for the caretaker to do it, but Andy had always found this particular caretaker to be clumsy and reckless and Andy didn’t want this guy’s big fat fingers bending or snapping the new plants.

As he rounded the corner of the huge barn that had once held more than forty horses, he grabbed the gate and held it tightly as he opened it so he wouldn’t slip in the mud. He wasn’t worried about falling and breaking a hip as much as he was worried about falling and breaking a hip and having to listen to everyone tell him it wouldn’t have happened if he’d had his cane. So he wound up taking extra precautions that morning.

By the time he reached the small garden with the white picket fence, he walked as if he were doing a slow two-step dance. At first, everything looked okay. Then he glanced to the back end of the small garden and noticed the slope had grown deeper and filled with water to the point where most of the plants on that end wouldn’t survive if he didn’t do something fast. He turned and made his way back to the barn taking quick short steps through the slippery mud. In the barn, he found a shovel and the cut-off bottom half of an old Clorox bottle he’d once used to spread rock salt in the wintertime.

The shovel helped him walk back to the garden without making him feel as if he’d been reduced to using a cane, and the Clorox bottle would help him scoop out the excess water and give the plants time to dry out. But when he rested the shovel against the white picket fence and leaned forward with the Clorox bottle in his right hand, he lost his balance, fell face forward into the trench filled with water, and then everything around him went blank.


When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in the middle of a large mirrored room, with silvery white floors, an open ceiling exposing the brightest blue sky he’d ever seen, and a few puffy clouds that reminded him of snow drifts. When he glanced to his right at one of mirrored walls and realized he was naked, he pressed his palm to his throat and blinked. He wasn’t a naked old man either. He saw the nude image of what he had once looked like as a young man in his early thirties. For a moment, he just stood there and stared at his thick dark hair, his lean chest and stomach muscles, and the firm skin tone on his legs.

But when he glanced straight ahead and realized he wasn’t alone, he quickly covered his private parts and flung another naked young man a terrified glance. The other naked young man sat shamelessly atop a long white table with ornately carved cabriolet legs and ball and clawed feet swinging his legs back and forth. His expression suggested playful arrogance, as if he were ready to take on a dare. He had dark unruly hair and rough stubble. His features were a combination of rough and tender, with a strong chin and soft eyes. The lines and details on the white table were as delicate and subtle as the lines that followed the naked young man’s muscles and curves. Although Andy knew he had never met this young man, he seemed oddly familiar and couldn’t quite place him. He reminded Andy of someone he’d known many years earlier, but not exactly.

The young man sent Andy a knowing smile and adjusted his position on the desk. As he spread his legs wider, he said, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We don’t wear clothes here. Everyone gets used to it in time.” He had a smooth even voice, the voice of a well-trained actor.

“Well I do wear clothes,” Andy said. “Can I get a robe or something?”

“It’s all relative, man,” said the naked man. “You’ll get used to it.”

Andy kept his palms over his private parts and glanced up and down at the young naked man’s strong fuzzy legs. “Who are you and what am I doing here?”

The young man smiled again and reached back with both arms to rest the weight of his upper body on his palms. He seemed as if he wanted to show off his private parts. “Welcome to The Department of Second Chances. You can call me Rory, Andy, and I’ll be your guide for as long as you’re here.”

“My guide?”

“That’s right, Andy. I’m your guide.”

Andy felt a sting in his chest. Oh, he’d always hoped he wouldn’t lose his mind in his old age. And now his worst fear had come true. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you, Andy,” Rory said. He seemed cocky now, with his head tilted sideways and one eyebrow higher than the other as if he were about to dare Andy to jump from a bridge.

“Wait a minute,” Andy said. “I know you. You’re that actor who once played James Dean, the one who was in the movie I just saw the other night on TV.” He’d always been bad with names of celebrities, politicians, and film titles. Andy had seen several of this actor’s films and he’d found him interesting in that scruffy, slightly messy way that had always attracted him the most. Although the actor was straight, he often played gay roles.

Rory laughed and shook his head. “Not really. I only look like him right now. We try to accommodate new arrivals by giving them guides that resemble people they are either attracted to or feel the most comfortable with. In your case, we decided this would be the best look since you’ve been so attracted to the young actor. We also know this actor reminds you of someone from your past.” He winked this time, as if he knew all of Andy’s deepest secrets.

Andy felt a pull in his stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. No one had ever confronted him about his deepest desires for men this way and he didn’t know how to react. There was a man from Andy’s past and the young actor did remind Andy of him, but Andy had never shared this information with anyone. “I only like the guy’s movies, is all. He’s very talented. I’m not attracted to other men.”

 “Awe c’mon, Andy,” Rory said, with the slick voice of a used car salesman. “There’s no need to play games with me, buddy. We already know everything there is to know about you. We’ve been keeping records from the day you were born until the day you died.”

“I Died?”

Male Nudes in Film:; FREE Gay Excerpt: Glendora Hill Series

Male Nudes in Film:

The founder of a web site that focuses on female nude scenes in films, Mr. Skin, has broken the double standard and created something brand new that now focuses on male nude scenes in films. And even more interesting, he’s been marketing the naked male actors toward women but the majority of hits allegedly come from men. The article to which I’m linking claims it’s “gay” men, but since there’s no measure I know of that could accurately determine what kind of men are viewing the web site I’ll just stick to using the word men in this post.

McBride’s explanation for the gender gap? The stigma of homosexuality has faded even as male nude scenes have multiplied, making 2013 the “perfect” time to launch the counterpart to his 14-year-old forever teen, Mr. Skin. He’s also of the opinion that men are simply more “pervy” than women. “They’ll walk through a wall for a good nude scene.”

I’m not too sure about that, at least not from what I’ve seen and heard from the wonderful women readers of gay erotic romance. I think it’s more about women and men (of all ages) being more comfortable with sex, nudity, and all the pleasures erotica of any kind provide us. Fifty Shades of Grey did NOT become a bestseller for it’s recipes or its strong plot. And I think there just might be as many women out there that will walk through a wall for a good nude scene as there are men. But even more important, I don’t think that makes either men or women pervy for enjoying nudity or sex. I’d bet the owner of the web site doesn’t think so either and he only used pervy in jest. It’s the blithering idiot who wrote the Huff Po article with pithy undertones and that snarky Internet-y voice that’s the real perv.

In any event, I will be linking to this web site in the future and sharing what I can about male full frontal nudity in TV and films. If that makes me pervy, tell me where to sign up.  You can read more here.

You can check out here, where you’ll find not just a handful of male nudes from films, but what seems to be every male nude ever done. I can’t post photos here from the web site for copyright reasons, but you won’t be disappointed if you follow the link.

FREE Gay Excerpt: Glendora Hill Series Cowboy Christmas

Here’s a free excerpt from a holiday novel I’m just finishing up right now that will be released this holiday season. It’s from the new cowboy series I’m working on that focuses on the fictional town of Glendora Hill in Texas Hill Country. In this particular novel, along with so much holiday cheer you might get overwhelmed at some point, the love story is focused on a three-way gay relationship that’s long term and happily-ever-after. It’s not Debbie Macomber. But in my lifetime of experience as a gay man I’ve known several long term committed relationships that included three men, not just two. It’s more common in gay culture than most will admit or recognize, and even though it can get highly complicated I have seen relationships where it works…and lasts.

Keep in mind this is pre-edits and I haven’t even submitted it to the publisher yet. I’ll post the first part of the excerpt here and you’ll have to click to read the second part at my other web site because Google might think I’m pervy if I post erotica here. Also keep in mind this isn’t about a gay couple who take home all kinds of men and throw them into their bed. This is about three gay men who love each other deeply and want to spend the rest of their lives together.

By Thanksgiving Day, all the storefronts, homes, and professional buildings along the tree-lined streets of Glendora Hill, Texas were fully adorned for the Holiday season. The hardware store’s display windows were covered with pine wreaths, garland, and big red bows to the point where customers couldn’t even see the merchandise through the windows. The dog grooming parlor with one huge boxwood topiary of a French poodle near the front door had red velvet wreaths made out of faux poinsettias in its windows, perfectly strung multi-colored holiday lights framing each window, and the poodle topiary had a big red bow around its neck. On each corner in town, stood a fully decorated real Christmas tree set in an old whiskey barrel, with more multi-colored lights and a big gold star at the top.
            In fact, everywhere Dr. Keith Elliot looked he saw something glitter, sparkle, and shine with holiday expression. When he stopped at the first traffic light on Main Street and glanced up at the pine garland swag and gold silver bell hanging from the traffic light he rolled his eyes and made a face. And when he lowered his window to get some fresh air and heard soft holiday music being piped through the streets, he groaned aloud and took a quick breath. For a moment, he felt as if he’d lost touch with reality and wound up in one of those old Hollywood Christmas films where everyone believes in Santa and lives happily ever after.
            Then the traffic light changed and he noticed a middle aged woman with two elderly people attempting to cross Main Street. The woman couldn’t have been taller than five feet in spite of her four inch red and white high heels. She leaned toward the plump side, and she was wearing a belted red dress with a white collar and a flowing skirt. Her short curly hair was stiff with cheap dime store hair spray and she had a huge gold Christmas tree pin below her right shoulder. If she hadn’t been carrying a huge tray covered in silver foil, Keith would have thought he’d just run into Mrs. Santa Claus. The older couple wore matching green and red jackets and matching green velvet shoes that looked more like bedroom slippers.
            When the middle aged woman noticed the light had changed, she grabbed the older man’s arm with one hand and said, “Hold on, pop, the light is red.”
            The older man and woman exchanged a confused glance and stopped to wait, trusting her completely.
            Keith smiled and waved them along. “It’s okay. You can cross. I’m in no rush.” He didn’t want to run anyone over his first day in town, especially not one of Santa’s elves.
            The woman smiled and nodded at him. “Thanks, we’re on our way home from Thanksgiving dinner at the sheriff’s house.” She lifted the tray higher and giggled for no reason at all. “I brought my famous mac and cheese and these are leftovers. Dot Hennessey was there, too, and she brought her God awful stuffed mushrooms. She wound up taking most of them home.” Then she tapped the older man’s arm and said, “The nice man is letting us go. We can cross now.”
            The older man tilted his head sideways. “We’re not lost now, Angie. I know exactly where I am. I was born and raised in this town.” He made a fist and stomped his foot.
            “I didn’t say we were lost,” the woman named Angie said. “I said we could cross. Turn up your hearing aide, pop.” She smiled at Keith again and said, “Pop’s a little hard of hearing.”
            “No problem,” Keith said. He waved them on again. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the night sitting there at that light with strangers who seemed too familiar at first. He had a feeling she wanted to pull back the silver foil and show him her mac and cheese.
            As they passed by the front of his truck, the woman sent him a glance and said, “Happy Holidays.”
             He returned the gesture with a nod, and a forced smile. “Happy Holidays, to you, too.” She’d made it simple for him. He’d learned to be cautious about whether or not to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays with his more politically correct friends in Chicago. 
            He waited until they were on the other side of Main Street to tap the gas again. As he drove toward the address he’d been given, he noticed a few more people walking on the sidewalks, carrying big trays with silver foil. They were all dressed up, as if going somewhere special, and they were all smiling. But more than that, they all noticed him passing through town, and nodded and waved as if they’d known him all his life.
            With all the twinkling lights, strands of garland, and holiday wreaths, it was hard to see the numbers on the buildings. It’s a good thing his new landlord had told him to look for the last building on Main Street with the white porch swing and a sign that read, “Glendora Hill Saddle Shop and Dry Goods,” because he would have missed the numbers 1114 completely. Evidently, his new landlord hadn’t considered the address important when he’d covered up the three ones with a silver glittered pine cone Christmas wreath. Keith could hardly make out the four, but he figured that had to be the place because of the sign over the door.
            He parked in front at the curb and climbed out of the cab. He’d been driving all day and hadn’t stretched his legs since the last time he’d stopped to fill up the gas tank in north Texas, somewhere north of Dallas he’d never heard of. He was sorry he’d worn such tight jeans that day, and even sorrier he’d worn cowboy boots. He would have been more comfortable in sweats and sneakers. But he didn’t want to show up in Glendora Hill, Texas looking as if he’d just arrived from Chicago. He had just arrived from Chicago, but he didn’t want them all knowing that. The main reason he’d submitted his resume for the job as head doctor of the Glendora Hill Medical Center was to escape from the urban life he’d always known. Unlike the other people with whom he’d attended medical school, his goal had always been to be a primary care physician, and in a small western town where there were horse ranches, open spaces, and plenty of cowboys.
            As he glanced up at the building where he’d rented the second floor apartment, he blinked when he noticed that every window had an identical glittery silver pine cone wreath hanging from a red velvet ribbon. Each window frame was adorned with little white lights that had been entwined around pine garland. And at the base of each window set dead center were big fluffy white bows. This building seemed even more elaborately decorated than the others he’d passed in town. Even the white front porch swing had silver and gold holiday pillows lined across the back.  
            Keith hadn’t seen the building or the apartment until now. He’d heard about it through a patient he’d accidentally met in the hospital in Chicago where he’d done his residency. The patient had been recovering from an emergency appendectomy and she’d overheard Keith telling a nurse about his plans to move to Glendora Hill, take over the small medical center, and that he was looking for a place to live. The patient’s name was Luanne something…he couldn’t remember her last name…and she told him she owned a dress shop in Glendora Hill, she was in Chicago visiting family, and wound up with an appendicitis. She was being discharged that day, but she gave him a phone number to call where she’d heard someone was looking to rent an apartment. The same evening he wound up renting the space over the phone without even checking it out. But if he’d known he was renting an apartment in a building that reminded him of Santa’s village at the North Pole, he would have thought twice.
            It was too late now to change things. He’d paid the first and last month’s rent and signed a lease he’d mailed to the landlord. And, the landlord had been nice enough to give him a break and let him live there for free until December first when the lease actually kicked in. He couldn’t renege now, so he walked to the back of the truck, pulled two suitcases out, and started toward the front porch.
            In a show of stunning trust, the landlord had told Keith he’d leave keys to the entrance of the building and the apartment under a fake potted poinsettia tree next to the porch swing. So he set his suitcases down at the top of the porch and walked over to the porch swing. But as he bent over to lift up the fake potted poinsettia, a man with a deep voice crept up behind him and said, “Can I help you, man?”
            Keith jumped and jerked to the side. He’d lived in Chicago; he prepared to be either mugged or arrested for breaking and entering. He pressed his palm to his chest and said, “I’m looking for the keys. The landlord told me he’d leave them under this poinsettia. I’m not a burglar. I swear. I’m renting the second floor apartment and I have a lease to prove it.”
            The tall man smiled at him and said, “Well you must be the new doc in town. It’s nice meeting you. Sebastian mentioned you’d be coming in today sometime.” He walked over to Keith and extended his right arm. “I’m J U double D, Judd. Sorry if I scared you a little.” He spoke with a thick Texas accent and dropped the G at the end of every word ending in ing.
            Keith shook his large hand and said, “That’s me. I’m Keith Elliot, the tenant. I’ll be working at the Glendora Hill Medical Center. It’s nice to meet you.” This Judd dude had such a strong handshake Keith’s knees almost buckled.
            “I’m up on the fourth floor,” Judd said. “I’ve been renting here since Sebastian inherited the place from his uncle. He used to live in the second floor apartment with his son, Kick, but he married Sheriff Avery and he now lives over at the sheriff’s place. But’s he’s here at the store every day. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow.” He laughed and said, “It’s Black Friday and he’ll be open, not that you’ll see much of a crowd in Glendora Hill on black Friday, though. It’s pretty quiet around here compared to other places.”
            At a closer glance, Judd reminded Keith of a dark-haired model he’d recently seen in one of those underwear catalogues that wound up in his mailbox unsolicited at certain times of the year. Judd stood over six feet in black cowboy boots, his tight leather jacket pulled at the chest and upper arms, and where his narrow waist met his solid pelvis he had a prominent bulge that made the zipper in his low-rise jeans round out in a way that fell just short of obscene. “Sebastian married the sheriff? You’re telling me they are a gay couple?” Keith asked. He knew nothing about Glendora Hill or gay life there. He’d assumed he would be living in a more provincial town, and in order to follow his dream of being a small town doctor he’d been prepared to give up certain parts of gay life he’d known well in Chicago.
            Judd squared his back in a defensive way. “We’re a small town, but we’re progressive. Sebastian and the sheriff are gay, and so are a few other people in town. I hope that’s not a problem.”
            “Of course not,” Keith said, with a dismissive tone. He’d been worried about this for weeks. He hadn’t decided about whether or not he would tell people in Glendora Hill he was gay. With this disclosure about his landlord and the sheriff, he decided to tell the truth, but in a more subtle way. “I was dating a guy myself for about a year, but he met someone else. You know how it is.” Judd looked straight, but at least he was gay friendly.
            Judd rubbed his jaw and looked Keith up and down. “Well, pardon me for saying this, but that’s his loss, because I haven’t seen anything as cute as you in cowboy boots since I left the last ranch where I worked.” Evidently, Judd had his own not so subtle ways to let people know he was gay.
            Keith had never taken compliments or sexual innuendos well. He felt his face getting warm and he glanced down at his boots. “Well, thank you, Judd. But don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t all that serious about him. We’re still good friends and I like his new partner. We both always knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere.”
Read more here….

As if Judd had been reading his mind, he laughed and said, “I know how that is, buddy. I’m seeing someone named Luanne. I’m bisexual and we’re keeping it casual, if you know what I mean. I’m not ready to settle down with anyone. Although, sometimes I have a feeling Luanne would like more.”

Keith remembered the woman in the hospital in Chicago. “Does Luanne own a dress shop in Glendora Hill?”
“That’s her,” Judd said.

“She’s the one who told me about this apartment,” Keith said. “I met her in Chicago.”

“That was you?” Judd asked. “She mentioned something about that, but I wasn’t paying attention.” He laughed again. “I don’t pay too much attention to anything Luanne says.” He leaned forward and winked. “She talks a lot.”

Keith nodded. He was beginning to feel sorry for Luanne. At first, she’d reminded him of a female impersonator when he’d met her in the hospital, with too much make up, big teased blond hair, and long red fake fingernails. “That was me. Luanne seemed like a nice person to me.”

Judd raised both hands and said, “Don’t get me wrong. She’s great. I just had Thanksgiving with her. But she’s been sneaking around with the two women who own the General Store in town, Harby and Alice, and she doesn’t know I know about it. I don’t really mind either. I don’t let her know I know about it. And I make it clear to her all the time that our relationship is only casual and that we can both date other people if we want to.”

“I see,” Keith said. But he really didn’t get it, and he was too tired to care. “It was nice meeting you, Judd. I think I’m going to get the keys and go up and check out my apartment now.” In order to prove his point, he yawned.

Judd turned and walked to the end of the porch. He picked up Keith’s suitcases and said, “I’ll carry your bags up for you. It’s on my way.”

While Judd watched him bend over to get the keys from beneath the poinsettia, it made him feel self-conscious. He felt even more awkward when Judd made him go upstairs first. He had a feeling Judd was staring at his ass the entire time and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. And when Keith opened the door to his new apartment and turned on the light switch to his right, his entire body went dead still as Judd set the suitcases down and reached for the back of his pants right below the small of his back.

“What are you doing, Judd?” Keith asked, remaining still, as Judd continued to grope him.

Judd’s voice went down an octave. “If you want me to stop I will.”

“You’re not very shy,” Keith said.

“You don’t seem to mind that,” Judd said.

Keith couldn’t deny the growing erection that was making his jeans tighter each time Judd squeezed him. But this move by Judd was so sudden Keith wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. In the same respect, it wasn’t the first time a strange aggressive man had done something like this to him, and he’d learned to accept that part of gay culture years ago. And, he hadn’t been with a man since he’d busted up with his ex-boyfriend. “I don’t usually do things like this with strangers.”

“We’re not going to be strangers for long,” Judd said, reaching for Keith with his other hand. “I’m hoping we’re going to be good friends and neighbors.”

“Maybe we should get to know each other better first, Judd. We don’t even know if we like each other yet.”

“Oh, I like you,” Judd said.

“I’m talking about emotionally liking each other,” Keith said.

Judd didn’t seem to get that. He took another step forward and he pressed the front of his body to the back of Keith’s. Then he put his arms around Keith, hovered over him, and said, “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do right now: get to know you better emotionally.” He inhaled and said, “You smell so good, emotionally.”

Keith smiled at sarcastic sense of humor. He could feel Judd’s big round bulge pressing into his buttocks and it made his heart beat faster. Keith stood almost five feet nine inches tall in bare feet, but this big cowboy seemed to overpower him. Even the sound of his voice made Keith’s knees weak. “What about your girlfriend, Luanne? What would happen if she saw you doing this?”

“I already told you I’m not committed to anyone,” Judd said, lowering his head so he could nibble on Keith’s earlobe.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Keith said, and then he broke free from Judd’s hold and moved to the other side of what looked to be the living room. He’d rented the place furnished and hadn’t even asked to see photos. He took a quick glance and noticed all the antiques, including an Empire sofa with gold damask fabric. But it didn’t remind him of grandma’s house, with lace doilies, grandma’s dining room set, and Gone with the Wind lamps. These were important antiques, the kind he often saw in auction catalogues. And the warm hardwood floors against the stark white walls made it appear more modern. The ceilings were high and the windows had Roman Shades that were so perfect and evenly set at the same height he wondered if the landlord had drawn small pencil marks on the woodwork to get them that way.

Judd followed Keith to the other side of the room and grabbed him by the waist. He pulled Keith closer and said, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea either. You might be the possessive stalker type, man. For all I know you’ll want to marry me in the morning.”

That comment was so capricious and honest, it made Keith laugh. He lifted his palms to Judd’s shoulders and said, “For all you know I am the possessive type. You might be making a big mistake right now.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” Judd said. He pulled Keith closer and his hands went down Keith’s back and rested on his bottom. “To be honest, I’m not usually this aggressive.”

Keith laughed again and stroked the back of his neck. “You’re lying. You’re probably worse than this.”

“Okay, maybe a little. I’m not shy about getting what I want. Is there a law against that?”

Men like Judd had always been attracted to Keith, for reasons he’d never been able to understand. Keith often wished men like him were more attracted to him, but things never seemed to work out that way. Keith had always been the academic type who spent his spare time reading journals and classic novels when he wasn’t riding horses. He had naturally fair hair and a deep olive skin tone that created an unusual contrast and made him stand out more in a crowd. Although he didn’t think his features, his body, or his appearance was anything that special, men like Judd seemed to flock to him as if they were on a mission and their lives depended on getting into his pants and getting him into bed. They were so aggressive at times they would actually pass him on the road while he was driving and honk their horns at him. But the gentler men that were more like Keith never seemed to notice him, and if they did they usually sent him jealous glances.

Keith lowered his hands so he could squeeze Judd’s biceps. He couldn’t actually see them or feel the flesh because Judd was wearing a black leather jacket. But when he felt those rock solid muscles bursting through the leather, he squeezed harder, bit Judd’s chin, and said, “I might be sorry for this, but what the hell. It’s Thanksgiving and I didn’t get any Turkey or pumpkin pie today.”

Judd took the back of Keith’s neck and said, “Then you’re in luck, because you’re going to get something even better than that right now.”

“And what would that be?” Keith couldn’t stop squeezing his biceps.
“Some good old J U double D, Judd.”


Chapter Two

            They kissed all the way from the living room to the bedroom, a bedroom with which Keith wasn’t at all familiar but Judd seemed to know quite well. Keith took backward steps and Judd guided him through the unfamiliar hallway of his new living space. Judd held his waist and kissed him so hard Keith had to grab Judd’s shoulders to keep from losing his balance. Judd guided him through the bedroom door, around an antique empire writing desk, sideways along a fainting couch, and right up to the foot of an old rosewood bed laced with Victorian carvings of grapes and Gibson girls. In keeping with the rest of the apartment, the warm hardwood floors and white walls kept the room looking brighter and more modern.

When the backs of Keith’s legs were up against the footboard of the bed, Keith stopped kissing for a moment and said, “You seem to know your way around this apartment well. I have a feeling you’ve been in this bedroom before.” He wanted to know if there was anything going on between Judd and his new landlord, Sebastian.

Judd kissed him again and pushed him backward. As Keith rested on top of the white matelassé coverlet and lifted his legs, Judd climbed on top of him and talked and kissed at the same time. “When Sebastian first moved to town we were close for a while. I don’t like to kiss and tell, but I will say this. Sebastian and his son, Kick, moved here from Houston right after Sebastian’s husband was killed in an accident and he had no money. He inherited this building from a distant uncle, and decided to put down roots in Glendora Hill. When I rented the fourth floor, this place was a huge mess. I was new in town, too, and I needed a cheap place to live and Sebastian needed tenants. Sebastian was alone, we both needed a little company at the time, and we had a short thing going on for a while. You’re going to love him. He’s the sweetest guy on earth, and so hot.”

Keith had a slight competitive streak. If anything, Keith was starting to get sick of hearing about Sebastian. But with Judd on top of him, and with Judd’s hands exploring his entire body, Keith found it difficult to concentrate or speak. He took a quick breath and said, “I thought Sebastian was married to the sheriff.”

“He is married to the sheriff now,” Judd said, reaching down to unbuckle his own belt. “But he wasn’t married to anyone when he first moved here. We were both free and single back then. And when he started up with the sheriff, it all ended between us and we’ve been good friends ever since. I’d do anything for that guy.”

As Judd opened his jeans and pulled out his erection, Keith removed his right hand from Judd’s shoulder and lowered it to Judd’s crotch. For a second or two, he groped around so he could hold Judd in his palm. And when Keith finally found him, fully erect and warm to the touch, and he discovered he couldn’t even wrap his fingers around it he started to stroke in a gentle way that made Judd kiss him even harder. As he stroked, from tip to stem, and he realized Judd’s length was as intimidating as his girth, he didn’t have to wonder why his new landlord, perfect Sebastian, had been with Judd when he’d first moved to Glendora Hill.

And even better, there was nothing rushed about Judd. They continued to make out while Sebastian held Judd in his palm and stroked with an uneven rhythm. They rolled around a few times, found different positions, and in the end Judd always wound up on top and his dick always wound up in Keith’s hand. Although Keith still hadn’t taken a good look at Judd’s dick, it felt so good he didn’t want to release it for more than a second.

The most unusual thing for Keith about this new encounter was the way their roles seemed to shift back and forth. During the entire time they kissed and felt each other up, Judd remained the physical aggressor and Keith remained the verbal aggressor. Though Judd acted upon pure instinct with each move he made, Keith found that if he calculated each move he made and he gave Judd orders, Judd would follow them without any hesitation at all. Keith had been with some of the most aggressive men in Chicago. He’d submitted to them willingly and their individual roles had always been defined without speaking. But with Judd is wasn’t the exactly same, and Keith soon realized he’d never actually met a man who could remain on top at all times and still submit to anything Keith wanted.

At one point Keith said, “I don’t want to ruin the bed cover. Take off those dirty old cowboy boots and the rest of your clothes.” Then he smacked Judd’s shoulder and pushed him backward in a playful but firm way.

Judd jumped off the bed, kicked off his dirty boots, and yanked off all his clothes so fast Keith barely had time to see his erection. But what Keith did see made him inhale and hold his palm to his chest. He could have hung one of his landlord’s glittery pine cone holiday wreaths on it and still had room to spare for a silver bell or two.

When Judd returned to the bed, Keith reached for his thighs and pulled him forward until Judd’s knees were even with Keith’s shoulders. Keith reached up with both hands and grabbed him again. He licked his lips and looked into Judd’s dark eyes at the same time. When Keith opened his mouth and nodded, Judd leaned forward until the tip of his dick slipped into Keith’s mouth. A moment after that, Judd leaned all the way over, braced his hands against the bed, and adjusted his position so that his crotch would be even with Keith’s mouth.

Keith tried to take him all the way into his mouth, but he soon discovered it was futile to even try. Keith’s lips wouldn’t stretch that far; he could only take so much without choking to death. At one point he wanted the entire dick in his mouth so desperately he almost spread his lips apart with his fingers to see if that would help. But then he reconsidered that move, realizing it might be too vulgar for a first encounter, especially with someone he would see all the time. So he wound up finding a comfortable position that seemed to please Judd, and one that wouldn’t make him gag too much. He took the bottom half of Judd’s dick with his right hand, and started sucking the top half so that his fist would provide a barrier between Judd’s pubic hair and his lips. If he hadn’t done that, and Judd had started fucking his face, Keith would have started gagging and it would have been impossible to suck him off at all.

But Keith had never been one to back off from a challenge, especially when it came to a man. He wound up jacking and sucking Judd at the same time. At certain points, he would remove Judd from his mouth and reach for his balls. They were a little larger than most men’s and it took a while at first for Judd to shove them both into his mouth at the same time. But each move he made, no matter how difficult at first, turned out to be worth his efforts. Judd had a strong masculine scent Keith continued to inhale, and his sack tasted just as strong. The smell was an odd combination of damp towels and cinnamon coffee, but the taste was impossible to compare to anything else without laughing aloud.

Bad Boy Billionaire Series Ryan Field

Bad Boy Billionaire Series Ryan Field

I like to post these things as points of reference in case readers have any questions. And up until now, though I’ve posted about the individual books in the Bad Boy Billionaire series, I’ve never posted about the series in a general sense.

Unlike my Virgin Billionaire series, or the Chase of a Lifetime series, the Bad Boy Billionaire books don’t have the same characters and the series is not a continuing saga. When we (the publisher and I) developed the concept we thought it would be too restrictive to maintain the same characters, and being that the theme of the series revolves around rakes…bad boys…we wanted each book to have a happy ending, which meant that the bad boy had to redeem himself at some point in the book. And he had to redeem himself as a result of falling in love. I’ve always loved the trope where only one person, and one person alone, can turn a bad boy into someone decent. Even though we all know this doesn’t happen in real life, it’s nice to dream about it in books sometimes. If I’d tried to keep the same characters in each book and continued the bad boy theme it would have been difficult for the bad boy to redeem himself. You can only go so far without going overboard. And as it stands, some of these guys really are pretty bad in the beginning of the books.

So that means none of the books follow any order, and each book in the series has different characters, a different storyline, and a very different setting. It doesn’t matter which book was released first, or last. You can start reading the last book and finish with the first if you so desire because they are all individual novels.

Here’s a link to Amazon, and here’s one to the publisher’s web site. There are eight books in the series, and if you want to read them according to how they were released the Amazon link lists them in order.

And, here’s a list of all the books in the Bad Boy Billionaire series. Six have been released, and there are two to go that I submitted weeks ago. The last book in the series is over 118,000 words long in spite of how hard I tried to make it shorter. But this book, Small Town Romance Author, just kept getting away from me and I kept losing track of the word count. 

The Ivy League Rake

The Wall Street Shark

Cowboy in Love

The Actor Learning to Love

The Vegas Shark

Silicon Valley Sex Scandal

Palm Beach Real Estate Mogul

Small Town Romance Author

My next series…I’ve already begun and finished the first book…is going to focus on four western themed cowboy books with different characters, but all from the same town set in Texas Hill Country. It’s a fictional town called, Glendora Hill, not far from Austin. And even though each book will revolve around different main characters many of the original characters from the first book will continue to return with smaller story lines and scenes.

Is Amazon Banning Gay Content Now?

Is Amazon Banning Gay Content Now?

I posted about an indie novella I published on Amazon a few months ago, here. It’s titled Internal Desires, it’s gay erotic romance, and it was set in the l960’s. Although this isn’t the first time I’ve had a book banned for tech reasons (search tags, etc…), it is the first time I’ve had a book banned for no specific reason. Below is the e-mail from Amazon, verbatim. As you can see from the cover image above, this doesn’t make sense, because if this is what’s considered going against their content guidelines we’re all in trouble. So this leads me to wonder if Amazon is banning gay content now. All characters are of legal age, and I followed the standard guidelines all publishers follow with respect to content. The same guidelines I’ve been following for twenty years with all LGBT publishers.

This particular book was part of the KDP Select program, where Amazon locks you in for three months. So I can’t give you any other links right now for Internal Desires. I was in favor of doing KDP Select at the time. It seemed like a good idea. But this is one more reason why I won’t be using KDP Select again. And I highly advise any other authors who are self-publishing to avoid this, too. When a book is banned this way (and that’s really what this is: book banning) and you haven’t distributed it to any other web sites where e-books are sold because you’re locked into an exclusive, you’re screwed. And, once again, this is also why authors should seriously start thinking about selling their own e-books on their own web sites like J.K. Rowling did with the Harry Potter e-book.

From my inbox:


During our review, we found that the following book(s) is in violation of our content guidelines (see list below for details):

Internal Desires (ASIN: B00DFB7UNQ) – Cover Image

If you wish, you may make changes to your book (images, title, description, and interior content) to comply with the KDP Content Guidelines and re-submit it for publishing.

You can find our content guidelines on the Kindle Direct Publishing website:

We’ve set your book to “Draft” status. Upon changing your content, please re-submit your book for publishing in order for your book to be made available for sale in the Kindle Store.

We appreciate your understanding.

Kindle Direct Publishing
I have contacted Amazon to see what’s up with this. I’ll post a follow up on this issue very soon, once it’s resolved. I truly hope it’s not because of gay content.

Free Gay Fiction Excerpt: Down the Basement II

Free Gay Fiction Excerpt: Down the Basement II

As promised in the earlier post today, here’s a free excerpt from the sequel to Down the Basement, Down the Basement II: Santa Saturday. It’s a novella that runs about 25,000 words, not a short novel. There’s a difference. And as I’ve done in the past recently with excerpts of this nature, I’ll post the g-rated parts here on google blogger, and then you’ll have to click the link to my WordPress blog to read the rest.

It’s also a .99 e-book. Here’s the Amazon link to the novella, and you can find it at Smashwords and other places where e-books are sold.

From the raw unedited version:

After the Halloween costume party, I started seeing Kadin on a regular basis. And this left me speechless more than once. I couldn’t understand why a popular guy like Kadin would want to be with me. Kadin was the star quarterback on the college football team, all the girls in school were after him, and all his fraternity brothers loved him. When he walked me back to my dorm the first night we’d fooled around in the basement of his fraternity house, he kissed me good night in the dark hallway. Though he was the only guy at the party who had figured out I wasn’t a woman, he didn’t seem to care. I just stood there gaping, with one hand pressed to my throat and the other dangling at my side.
            When he left a few minutes later, I watched him lope down the sidewalk with his hands buried in his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward. He hadn’t worn a jacket and the weather had turned cooler that night. As he rounded a corner at the end of the walkway and disappeared from sight, I stood there staring into the darkness for another fifteen minutes, wondering if this had all been a dream.
            But it wasn’t a dream. I’d given him my cell number and he called me the next day and asked if we could get together that night. I agreed, with reservations. Kadin had only seen me in drag, not as a man. I’d gone to the costume party at the frat house in drag for fun, never expecting to hook up with anyone. And I had no intentions of doing drag again for a long, long time. When he picked me up that night, I worried Kadin would expect me to flit out of the dorm in high heels and a pink dress.
            I wore an off-white sweater and faded jeans instead. When his huge black SUV pulled up to the curb, I was standing there waiting for him with my hands in my pockets. It occurred to me that he might not even recognize me as a man. But he reached over the front seat and popped the door open. When I sat down and buckled my seat belt, he smiled and said, “You look nice tonight. Nice sweater.”
            Well. Between Halloween and Thanksgiving, we started seeing each other at least three or four nights a week. He never asked me to dress up in drag for him and he seemed perfectly content with me as a man. We drove to dark parking lots and jumped into the back of his SUV. Kadin explained he was bi-sexual and wanted to take it slowly at first. He even went into great detail about his frustrations and his anxieties about dating another guy in public. He looked me in the eye; he was honest. He said he wasn’t ready to be open about it. And I decided not to push him into anything too soon. I enjoyed being with him. Spending time alone this way, even though it was on the down-low, allowed us to be together without any other interruptions.

As the weeks passed, I would sit in class daydreaming about our nights together. Kadin’s SUV had tinted windows all the way around. No one could see inside, not even if they walked up, cupped their hands, and pressed their noses to the window. We’d spend hours back there doing everything from kissing to intercourse. Most times it was hard to keep the SUV from rocking. We explored each other’s bodies and forgot about our inhibitions. He learned quickly that I preferred being the submissive bottom; I learned just as fast that he enjoyed taking control as the dominant top. One night we even fell asleep naked in the back of his SUV in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. When we woke early the next morning, I was flat on my back and Kadin was on top of me with his arms around my shoulders. I spread my legs, wrapped them around his waist, and whispered into his hear. I told him we’d better get up and get dressed before anyone caught us. He told me no one could see inside, and then he lifted my legs higher and put on another condom.

Then a week before Thanksgiving Kadin picked me up and we went to a parking lot behind a local bowling alley. We parked between two school buses and climbed into the back. After I blew him, he pulled me up to his chest and put his arms around me. I thought this was odd. Whenever I blew Kadin, he liked to lie back while I massaged his balls. He practically went into a deep meditative state, moaning softly and rubbing the top of my head. But this time he seemed animated and filled with energy, as if he couldn’t contain himself.

“I have a favor to ask you,” he said.

I rubbed his wide chest. His enormous pecs were covered with a soft layer of dark hair that made my mouth water. “What kind of favor?” There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for Kadin.

“I have to do an act next week at Santa Saturday,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d do something with me.” He spoke with a cautious, almost hapless, tone.

“An act?”

He nodded. “Something for the variety show. Some sort of song and dance.”

“Ah, well,” I said. Santa Saturday was a charity event that Kadin’s fraternity put on each year the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It was tradition; it kicked off the Christmas season; Kadin’s fraternity had been doing this for over fifty years. The event drew people from the entire campus and surrounding colleges. There were bake sales, fifty-fifty drawings, Chinese auctions, and games. And all the money they brought in went to a local Children’s Hospital. Aside from the D.J. they always hired, each year Kadin’s fraternity put on an outrageous, campy variety show that was always the highlight of the event.

“I’m going to be Santa Claus,” Kadin said. “And I was wondering if you’d be Mrs. Santa Claus. You could get dressed up in a sexy Mrs. Santa outfit like the costume you wore to the Halloween party. Something with a short red dress and spiky red high heels.” Then he ran his hand down my right side and slipped his fingers into my ass crack.

I took a quick breath and swallowed back. He knew this was my weakest spot. My body turned to mush whenever he touched me there with his large fingers. “Are you serious, Kadin?” This was the first time he’d mentioned drag to me since the night we’d met. For the longest time, I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it.

“Dead serious,” he said. “It could be fun. And, it’s a way for us to be together in public. I’d like that. I can tell everyone you’re my date.”

His fingers were sliding toward my opening. My legs were parting and I was squeezing his bicep. “I’m not sure about his, Kadin. I only did drag that one time and I wasn’t all that comfortable then. I’m not sure I can pass as a woman with all those people around.”

“But you were great. All the guys thought you were a woman. They had no idea.” Then his voice dropped and he bit my neck. “And I thought it was hot. I’d love to see you do it just one more time.” He pressed his palms together and quirked his dark eyebrows. “Please.”

“There’s a lot of preparation involved,” I said, remembering Halloween. I had passed as a woman that night. And so well I wound up taking on a group of guys wearing football uniforms in the basement, which is how Kadin and I actually met. “And you didn’t give me much time.” The last time it had taken me two months to prepare. I didn’t know if I could do this in just one week.

He started to beg. “Please do it just this once. I never ask for much. And, it is for charity. I’ll never ask again.”

He was right about not asking for much. He was the most attentive, articulate lover I’d ever met. When he was inside me, he only cared about what I was feeling and if he was pleasing me. We didn’t just have sex: we made love. So I laced my fingers around his thick neck and said, “Okay. I’ll do it just this once, and only because it’s for charity.”

He smiled so wide his nose twitched. He made a fist and punched me playfully in the ass. “You’re the best. I was worried you’d turn me down.”  Then he climbed on top of me and buried his face in my neck.

I caressed the back of his head and sighed. “I just hope I can pull this off without anyone recognizing me.”

“You’ll be great,” he said. “The only thing you’ll have to worry about is keeping the other guys away from you. The last time they couldn’t wait to lift up your dress.”

How could I forget? My jaw ached for two days straight.



The next morning I started working on my outfit. Kadin said he’d be wearing a traditional Santa suit, so I figured I’d play it safe and wear a traditional Mrs. Santa suit. I scoured the internet searching for costume shops and web sites that catered to transvestites and entertainers. I found a few kinky, sexy, Mrs. Santa outfits online, but no one could guarantee that I’d received these outfits within a week’s time.

When I realized I’d have to go out and physically shop, I did searches for shops within a fifty mile radius of my school. There were more than I’d imagined there would be. And I finally stumbled across a shop called, Le Exotique. This shop was about forty miles away. It catered to anyone and everyone with a kink, fetish, or passion to dress up in fantasy clothes. I called first and asked about a sexy Mrs. Santa suit. The sales clerk told me they had three different styles in stock and that it would be best if I came in person and tried them all on.

So the next morning, a breezy autumn Saturday with a bright blue sky, I hoped into my car and drove sixty miles north. It’s a good thing the upcoming week was a slow time for me. I’d taken my mid-terms already and I knew I wouldn’t miss anything if I cut a few classes. Most people took off early that week. It was almost expected. I not only had to pull a costume together I also had to rehearse the act with Kadin. He said we were doing something kitschy and Christmassy. He promised me it was supposed to be campier than realistic. But as much as I cared about Kadin, I wasn’t taking his word. If I was going on a stage to perform, I was going to be well rehearsed and ready for anything.

Le Exotique was located on a back street in a touristy little town I’d never visited, the kind of place people from the city go to for daytrips to kill time when there’s nothing better to do. I had to park on the street and fill a parking meter, then walk two blocks north and one block east. The shop itself was nothing more than a converted row home, sandwiched between a small modern art gallery and a candle shop displaying all those new flameless candles everyone was raving about. The clapboards of Le Exotique were pale pink and the trim was soft lavender. I turned to view the flameless candles and tilted my head, wondering whether or not flameless candle was an oxymoron.

The owner of Le Exotique was unlocking the front door as I approached, a guy in his mid-thirties with dark wavy hair down to his shoulders, a scruffy goatee, and ripped jeans. He was a cross between a rock star and a jock. He carried a sandwich board sign down four concrete steps and placed it on the edge of the sidewalk. When he looked up at me, he nodded and said, “Good morning. I’m just opening. Feel free to take a look inside and if you need anything I’ll be inside in a minute.” The sandwich board sign read, “SALE,” in bold red letters. The owner had two thick silver earrings in each ear, a silver bolt through his nose, and more silver chains around his neck than I could count. I noticed his black leather boots: narrow pointy toes and a three inch Cuban heel. They weren’t quite western and they weren’t exactly biker boots. But something about them made my heart skip a beat.

I thanked him and went inside. When I looked up, I pressed my palm to my chest and sighed. For such a small space, the shop was filled with merchandise that catered to every fetish, kink, and fantasy ever invented. There were whips and chains above my head, hanging from rafters in haphazard positions. To my right were racks of dresses that ran down the entire right side of the shop. To the left were glass cases filled with sex toys that included everything from black rubber plugs to dildos the size of large eggplants. I gaped at the cock ring display. I blinked when I noticed an entire case filled with fake breasts in every size, shape and color. And I nearly lost my balance when I saw a mannequin wearing crotchless a nun’s habit with a slit up the side.

The moment the owner walked inside I crossed to him and said, “I need help.” Then I told him what I was looking for, that I didn’t have much time to spare, and that I’d appreciate his help. I spoke fast, with an even tone.

When I finished he just stood there gaping at me. “I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” he said, rubbing his goatee, looking me up and down. “What are you, about five feet seven?”

I nodded yes and said, “Exactly.”

“It should be simple to get you fitted into the perfect Mrs. Santa outfit,” he said. Then he looked me up and down again and smiled. “I’m just surprised, is all. You look like a typical college kid to me. You remind me of that actor. Can’t think of his name.”

“Zac Ephron.” I got this all the time. I didn’t think I looked like him, but other people did.

“Yes,” the guy said. “But you have lighter hair. It’s more of a sandy blond.”

I smiled. “And mine is natural.”

After that, the guy led me to the back of the store where there were dressing rooms and the windows were covered with heavy black draperies. He searched through a few racks and pulled out three different costumes. “These are the three Mrs. Santa costumes I have. If you don’t like them, we can always pull something together off the racks. Do you have shoes, or will you be needing them, too?”

I gazed down at the costumes hanging from his hand. They were all red with white fur trim, all very short, and one of them looked so narrow it resembled a scarf instead of a dress. “I’ll need shoes, too.” I wanted something in red. I could have used the shoes I’d worn for Halloween, but I figured since I was already buying an entire outfit I may as well spring for the shoes and do it right.

“What size shoe are you in a man’s shoe?”

I took the costumes from his hand and headed to the dressing room. Without thinking twice, I said, “I’m either a size ten or eleven in women’s heels, depending on how they are made.” I’d been through this before; I knew what I was doing.

He smiled. “How high of a heel do you want?”

I pushed the pink curtain aside and said, “The highest heel you have in red, in my size.” Then I closed the curtain and unzipped my jeans.

The first Mrs. Santa costume I tried on was the short red Lycra affair that resembled a scarf. Good thing I’d worn a tight thong to pack down my dick. When I slipped it over my head and pulled it down below my waist, it barely covered my crotch. I stepped out of the dressing room to view the costume in the full length three-way mirror. The guy was leaning against a rack and there a couple of pairs of red high heels resting on top of the rack on a glass shelf. He took one look at me in the tight red dress and his jaw dropped. He rushed to the mirrors and said, “Wow.”

My tone remained serious. I gazed into the mirror to see how the dress fell over my hips. “Is that a good wow or a bad wow? Be honest. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I’m going on stage in this costume.”

He handed me a pair of red pumps with a six inch heel, dripping in ruby sequins. “Wow in a good way. It’s perfect.” Then he went down on one knee and reached for my right ankle so he could slip the high heel on my foot.

I would have put on my own shoes, but he seemed so eager I didn’t want to disappoint him. I knew he was looking up my dress; I saw his eyes tilting. So I reached down to hold his shoulder for support and lifted my right leg. He held my calf gently and put the shoe on very slowly, caressing my instep with his large, thick fingers. When he repeated this move with my left foot, I lost my balance and almost feel over. But he grabbed the back of my right leg just in time. And as I found my footing and looked into the mirror, his hand went all the way up the back of my leg and rested firmly on the bottom of my ass.

I smiled and rolled my eyes. He squeezed my flesh and pursed his lips. I’d had a feeling he was horny, only I hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move right there in the store. After all, anyone could have walked in and caught him with his hand up the back of the dress. I smiled and said, “Excuse me, but I think you have your hand up my dress.” Then I laughed and shook my head.

He gaped at my legs and slid his hand all the way up the back of the dress until it rested in the middle of my ass. Then he smiled and said, “You have smooth skin. You’re not wearing underwear.”

Cory Booker’s Woman; Erotic Romance Book Review; Porch Swing Gay Romance

Cory Booker’s Woman

I’ve posted about Newark, NJ Mayor, Cory Booker, in the past, mainly because he’s running for the US Senate right now, he’s a confirmed bachelor, he’s in his forties, and there have been insinuations that he might be gay. He’s denied these insinuations. So far, he’s absolutely not gay.

Cory Booker is also the consummate politician, he’s been preparing for much bigger things than mayor of a NJ city for most of this adult life, and I have no doubt whatsoever that he will win the senate seat this fall, and he will continue to move forward because he’s such a consummate politician.

However, it’s interesting to read a few recent incidents involving Booker, and a female stripper from the west coast who considers herself, “Stripper Model Weirdo.” It’s really all very harmless, and nothing like other sex scandals we’ve seen with other politicians. It seems this stripper woman is somewhat infatuated with Booker and Booker has been responding to her in a friendly way.

At a news conference Thursday, Booker said he communicates with people who send “kindness” his way and he doesn’t “study peoples’ profile(s).”

“That’s really what this is, is me responding to people, which I do every single day,” he said. “And frankly, finally, I just have to say, it is all about just that, is about listening to people and engaging with people no matter what their profession.

“I’ve tweeted people back from all different backgrounds,” he added. “It’s not something I pay attention to. But when somebody’s kind to me, I often say thank you.”

You can read more here. And in this article you can read some of the tweets the stripper woman sent to Booker and actually see a few photos of her. It’s as entertaining as it is creepy.

“I want @CoryBooker to plow me through the night . . . ” she wrote in one tweet first reported on the website BuzzFeed.

I guess this is even more proof that Cory Booker isn’t gay, not if he’s tweeting to a female stripper. And frankly I like Booker, and I’m glad he’s not gay. Because if he were gay, and he’s been hiding it all this time, I would lose all respect for him at this point in my life. I’ve never been one of those people who believe everyone should come out of the closet at one time, and I’ve always believed that coming out of the closet is a highly personal matter and not everyone is ready to do it. I even think it’s okay if a man or woman spends his or her entire life in the closet, quietly and without attention. I feel sorry for them, but I have empathy for them and I understand that. In my own personal life, I even support a few closeted gay men all the time.

But when it comes to politicians, and others in the public eye who are setting examples for younger gay people, I have no patience anymore for high profile liars, including politicians or anyone else who wants to promote the shame that’s always been associated with being gay, with denial of the fact. And that includes all politicians, Democrat and Republican, who try to scam us into believing it’s wrong to be gay. The lives of too many decent gay men and women have been ruined with that kind of mind set.

I know the old argument is that “it shouldn’t matter” one way or the other if a politician, or another public figure, is gay or not. And in a perfect world I would agree with that. In a hundred years, I hope this really is the case. However, right now, that’s not how it works. We are fighting too hard for equal rights. It does matter in some cases, especially if you’re in the public eye and we’re depending on honesty. Younger gay people need role models, too, and they aren’t going to get positive signals from those who continue to hide being gay based on the concept of “it shouldn’t matter.”

It matters.

Erotic Romance Book Review

I may or may not have posted about the following book review I received last spring from On Top Down Under Book Reviews for my stand alone short story, Down the Basement.  I know I have posted about Down the Basement a few times over the years, mainly because it’s always surprised me at how well that story was received. When I say I’m surprised, I’m talking more like stunned. When I wrote that story a long time ago and submitted it to a Cleis Press anthology I never thought anyone would even notice it. This is truly one of those deals in publishing where you never know what to expect. It was even part of a Lambda Award Winning book, which I posted about here.

In any event, it constantly surprises me. And this review is truly one of the most entertaining reviews for Down the Basement I’ve read so far. As a side note, I didn’t solicit this review, and I most certainly didn’t pay for it.

It’s Halloween. There’s going to be a frat house costume party and Rush has himself all ready to go – 6 inch black stiletto fuck-me heels, check, black lace-up corset, check, black, tight skirt, check again, black thong-sock, yep. Rush is tanned, terrific and ready to go to the frat house party. He’s not cruising for guys, just wanting to feel sexy all dressed up with somewhere to go.

On the way some guys scope Rush out, ‘pussy-hounds’, commenting they would like to get some of what she’s got. First test passed. Rush looks and feels like the woman she wants to be tonight.

You can read the entire review at the link above. And take the time to check out the rest of the web site while you’re there. It’s a great site, with a strong voice.

As a side note, I post about reviews sometimes, but I don’t always remember to offer this one little hint to other authors who write gay erotica or gay erotic romance. If you’re going to solicit professional online blogs or web sites where book reviews are done for free, please take the time to check out the kinds of books they review. In other words, you don’t want to submit gay erotica or gay erotic romance to this book review site because they don’t focus on gay erotica, and they know nothing about gay erotica or gay erotic romance. They’re great with mainstream romance and some lighter brands of harmless m/m romance, but their concept of what’s gay (gay culture and gay men) comes from hearsay and text books, not actual experience. Make sure you do the homework and find a book review site that fully understands gay erotica and gay erotic romance, or you might be disappointed. Same thing applies for straight erotica and erotic romance. This information is right there. All you have to do is check out what they’ve reviewed well as compared to what they haven’t enjoyed.

I will be posting a long free excerpt from the sequel to Down the Basement later today, so it’s up for the weekend.

Porch Swing Gay Erotic Romance

I’m not even sure there is such a thing as porch swing gay romance. So rather than going into a long explanation of what I consider a “porch swing” romance novel, I think this explains it well.

Though Nora Roberts’s novels are good any time of year (curled up in bed on a cold night, outside on a porch swing in the crisp fall air), summer is when I find myself reaching for her romances most often.

For me, it’s also a feeling of comfort, with a small town feel…without the billionaires, lavish settings, and elaborate backgrounds that include jets and helicopters. Only I rarely see this in any erotic romance, or even gay erotic romance. And I’ve been guilty as charged because I’ve done more than my share of billionaire themed books. We like that, too, and we like the escape billionaire romances bring to us. We can also curl up and read them on a porch swing.

But sometimes there’s nothing more comforting than curling up on a porch swing and reading a romance that’s set in a small town where everything’s quaint and perfect, and where most old homes have old porch swings themselves. And just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t have that. In fact, I would be willing to bet there are more gay people now living in small quaint towns across America than ever before.

So in the next book I’m writing, the first in a western series for Ravenous Romance, I’ll be focusing on the small fictional town of Glendora, Texas. It’s the most perfect little town I’ve ever written about, where the homes are all Victorian or turn of the century craftsman style, and where everyone’s front yard is stippled with pots of flowers and perfectly round boxwoods. They have town celebrations where everyone gathers to sing and dance. They have old cars they treat with pride and love. They even have a sheriff who maintains the kind of perfect structure all small towns would like to have. And most of all, they are all having sex, especially, in some cases gay sex.

My inspiration for this came from many sources. But mainly it’s because I’ve always wanted to read a porch swing romance with erotica, and I’ve never actually found one I liked. I’m about thirty thousand words into this first book in the series, The Sheriff and the Outlaw, and I’ll be posting free excerpts very soon.

Sen. McCain Defends Gays in Russia; FREE Excerpt

Sen. McCain Defends Gays in Russia

Sen. John McCain, a Republican who ran against President Obama in 2008, recently made strong statements against Russia, which include comments about Russian discrimination against gays. McCain spoke out in reply to a NYT editoral by Russian President Vladimir Putin. Among many things McCain slammed that include ruling through oppression, McCain said this about how Russia treats gays.

“They write laws to codify bigotry against people whose sexual orientation they condemn. They throw the members of a punk rock band in jail for the crime of being provocative and vulgar and for having the audacity to protest President Putin’s rule,” he said.

At least someone’s saying something…other than the smallest voices in the US. You can read more here.

Free Excerpt Chase of a Dream

Here’s another free excerpt from one of my indie pubbed books, Chase of a Dream. It’s the second book in the Chase series, and I released this one in both abridged and unabridged versions so that people who prefer erotic gay romance could buy the version with sex, and those who don’t like too much sex can buy the toned down version. This is from the unabridged version, and you’ll have to click the link to my Word Press blog at the end to read the adult rated parts.

From the raw unedited version:

After dinner, Len and Cain went out on the veranda overlooking the Hollywood Hills and Jim put Culum to bed. Normally, both Len and Jim would have put Culum to bed together, but Jim thought Len needed a little time alone with his son. And Culum was such an easy child to deal with getting him to bed was never much of a problem.
            That night, with Clinger at Jim’s side, he gave Culum a quick bath, put on his favorite little gray sweat suit that he liked sleeping in, and tucked him into bed. There was no need for a diaper. Culum had been potty trained completely at a very early age. He’d been such an easy-going child Jim and Len didn’t even notice if he’d gone through the “terrible two” stage all parents seemed to dread.
Clinger always slept in Culum’s room, right beside Culum’s bed, on a pale blue carpet that always reminded Jim of needlepoint. It was nubby and there were flecks of white stippled between the blue fibers. The large tan dog had begun this ritual of sleeping beside Culum’s bed the first night Len and Culum moved into Jim’s house and he’d never stopped. And if anyone tried to move Clinger, he growled and refused to budge. Although they had a nanny cam and intercom in the nursery, if Culum needed them in the middle of the night Clinger usually started to bark before they heard a sound come from the speakers.
When he was all covered and snuggled in bed, Culum glanced up at Jim and said, “Who is that man, daddy?” The child hadn’t said a word up until he was about nineteen months old. Jim and Len had been concerned about this. But once he started, he spoke in full sentences without baby talk. Len told Jim that Cain had been the same way when he’d been a baby.
Jim smiled and patted Culum’s tiny shoulder. He knew Culum was asking about Cain. He and Len had agreed not to hide the truth from Culum about anything…ever. They wanted him to know who he was and where he came from and to be proud of it. They had nothing to hide, and they wanted to instill this sense of family and strength in Culum at a young age. Culum knew Len was his grandfather; he knew Jim wasn’t his biological dad but he called him dad anyway. “He’s your other dad, Culum. He’s your biological dad. We told you about him before. Don’t you remember?”
They had mentioned Cain, but not often. Jim knew the child hadn’t processed it all yet. The only reason they used large words like biological was to prepare him and get him used to the word. Baby talk wasn’t allowed in their home…at least not when Len was around. Jim often ignored this and spoiled Culum rotten when they were alone together. But Len was determined not to make the same mistakes with Culum that he’d made with Cain. Jim often thought Len took this to extremes and he tried to create a balance. 
Culum let this information sink in for a moment, and then he asked, “Where’s my mom?”
This always tugged at Jim’s heart. They tried to shower the boy with as much love and honesty as they could. They made a point of inviting Culum’s biological mom to LA to spend time with him. But Culum’s mother didn’t seem to want anything to do with him and neither Jim nor Len knew how to deal with that. The thought of a mother not wanting to know her own flesh and blood passed Jim by. But he always kept things positive for Culum’s sake and spoke well of her. “We’ve told you that a million times, Culum. Your mom lives in Texas. She’s studying to be an attorney in Austin. Your mom and your other dad were a couple, like husband and wife, and they broke up before you were born. That’s when your grandpa and I adopted you.” Jim tried to keep things simple, especially when it came to his relationship with Len. The kid didn’t know the difference between gay and straight yet. Culum was still too young to ask the serious questions, like why his biological mom and dad had given him up, and Jim dreaded the day he would have to explain this. He knew the best he could do for now was to let Culum know that they loved him more than anything else in the world.
“How long is my other dad going to be here?” Culum asked.
Jim shrugged. “I’m not sure. He said he was going to move to Los Angeles, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of him.”
“Do you like him?”
Jim patted his shoulder again. “Of course I like him. I grew up with him back in Texas. We were best friends and we’ve known each other all our lives.” He knew this part could be tricky, especially when Culum started to realize that Jim had fallen in love with his best friend’s dad. But they believed the truth was better than keeping secrets. And though it wasn’t a normal situation, they didn’t want to make it abnormal either.
Culum thought again, and then he looked up at Jim and said, “Read me a story, daddy. The one about the bears.”
Jim laughed and reached for a book on the nightstand. Culum loved books and stories; his favorites were The Berenstain Bears. He was glad Culum had stopped asking questions. He didn’t like to answer questions like this when Len wasn’t around. Len had a way of explaining things that always made everything sound so much better than Jim did.
By the time Jim finished reading, Culum had drifted off to sleep. Jim turned out the light, patted Clinger on the head, and went back out to the veranda to see what Len and Cain were doing. He smiled as he passed through the kitchen when he saw that Len had cleaned up the dinner dishes. Though Len didn’t clean between the knobs on the range and he didn’t wipe Culum’s fingerprints off the stainless steel refrigerator like Jim did, he always did his best to put things away and help out around the house. And he did this without ever having to be asked.
When Jim opened the sliding glass door he heard Len say, “We’ve been thinking of buying a ranch out near Chatsworth.”
Jim closed the door and sent Len a frustrated glance. “We’re only thinking of moving. We’re not serious about it.” He knew Len missed his horses and he missed Texas even more. And the house they were living in now was only two thousand square feet…a cottage compared to the homes they’d both been familiar with in Texas. But they’d spent so much time renovating their home and making it perfect Jim wasn’t sure he wanted to go through all that again. But more than that, they’d always been so happy there. For superstitious reasons, Jim wanted to keep things the way they were for as long as he could.
Before Len had a chance to reply, Cain yawned and stretched his arms. “I’m exhausted from traveling all day. I think I’m going to turn in early.” Then he stood up from a lounge chair and stretched again. This time his black polo shirt went up and exposed his abdomen. Jim noticed that he had to be at least ten pounds thinner than the last time he’d seen him. His low-rise jeans hung so low on his hips the waistband of his underwear was showing.
Jim gestured to the house and said, “I put your bags in the guest room. It’s down the hall off the kitchen. The second door on the right. You can’t miss it. I’ll show you if you want.” He was glad Cain had interrupted Len. It caused a pull in Jim’s stomach when he thought about moving away from his home.
“He can find it himself,” Len said. “He’s big boy now.” He spoke with a curt tone, as if he didn’t have patience for Cain. He wouldn’t even look at him. It sounded rude, as though he didn’t want Cain around.

Cain rolled his eyes at Len and smiled at Jim. “I’ll find it. Like my dad said, I’m a big boy now.” He spoke with a snide tone, as if he wanted to say something nasty to Len but was holding back.

“There are clean towels in the guest bathroom,” Jim said. He bit his lip, hoping they wouldn’t argue his first night there. “If you need anything else let me know. I think you’ll find everything you need.”

Cain said good night and turned toward the house. Jim noticed that even though he’d lost weight, he still had that cocky swagger he’d had since he was a child. That was another difference between Len and Cain. Len walked with his head high and his back squared; Cain left a room as if he were about to go up on stage and do a striptease act.

When Cain was gone, Jim sat down in the lounge chair next to Len’s and sighed. He stretched his legs and yawned. He’d been up since six that morning and he hadn’t stopped moving all day. Though Len helped as much as he could with Culum, Len had to go to the office every day and he didn’t have the freedom Jim had. Jim’s career in public relations was thriving by then. He had an impressive list of clients that included more than a few famous names, from celebrities to technology executives in Silicon Valley. This allowed him to work from home most of the time. A good deal of the public relations work he did now focused on web presence for his clients, and online promotion. Jim had seen the importance of the Internet the first month he started working in public relations, and now he was considered one of the finest online promoters in his field. He only went into the office in Beverly Hills for meetings. And though sometimes he had to travel, it was never more than a few days at a time.

“Are you tired?” Len asked. He reached over and held Jim’s hand. It was getting cooler out; the palms below them began to sway.

“Exhausted,” Jim said. His feet tingled and his back ached. “It’s been a long day. I had one client almost melt down this afternoon. I spent an hour trying to calm her down so she wouldn’t do anything drastic and ruin her online image. She actually phoned me in tears. She’s being attacked online by some flaming lunatic with sockpuppets.”

“What’s a sockpuppet?” Len asked, as he ran his fingers up and down Jim’s forearm. He always did this when he was getting horny. Jim didn’t pull away from him.

Jim smiled. A lot of the new jargon on the Internet seemed so foreign to Len. He worked in a bank all day, where people in the real world weren’t exposed to these things…yet. “An Internet sockpuppet is kind of like when someone has multiple identities on the Internet and they abuse those identities. In this case, my client, a smaller client who runs a furniture business on the Internet is being harassed by some fruitcake with multiple identities. The fruitcake is leaving vicious reviews and defaming my client and her products with these fake identities. She knows exactly what she’s doing. It looks like twenty five different people left bad reviews, and discussed them together, but it’s really only one person.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Jim said. “But we’re taking legal action and trying to get a court order that will allow us to get to the bottom of this. Our attorneys are working hard on it.”

“Is it legal to sockpuppet?” Len asked.

“I don’t know,” Jim said. A lot of this was new to him. “It’s certainly not ethical. I’m still learning as I go. But it is illegal to defame anyone, and that’s what this nutcase is doing. And my client is sick and tired of dealing with it. Trust me; we’re going to hear a lot more about these things in the future as more and more people start using the Internet for business. Right now there really aren’t many ethics and standards on the Internet.”

“Why on earth would anyone torment another human being that way?” Len asked. “It’s insane and counterproductive.”

Jim laughed. “Because my client is this lunatic’s biggest online competitor, and when it comes to money people will do anything.” He yawned again and closed his eyes. “Let’s talk about something else. The whole thing is so creepy I’ll have nightmares if we keep talking about it. The fact that someone could stalk, harass, and defame someone else makes me want to triple lock the doors.”

“Did Culum get off to sleep okay?” Len asked.

“He’s fine,” Jim said. “He asked a few questions about Cain, but nothing we haven’t already discussed before. I read him a story and Clinger is right next to him. How did things go with Cain while I was gone? I hope you guys didn’t argue. I really think it’s time to make peace.”

Len sat up and rubbed his eyes. He seemed as tired as Jim. “I just don’t get him. He was always on the wild side, but I thought he’d grow up eventually. He always got such good grades in school, and he was captain of all the sports teams. It’s like after he graduated from Stanford he went berserk and I don’t know how to get through to him. He told me he’s moving to LA and he wants to open one of those stores where they sell marijuana legally with a prescription from a doctor. Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

“You’re joking,” Jim said. He turned and leaned closer to Len.

“I wish I were,” Len said. “He didn’t ask me tonight, but I have a feeling he’s going to ask for money to help get this business going. He was just setting things up tonight. I know him too well. And frankly I don’t want to be associated with a business like that. I would gladly give him the money to go back to grad school, or to law school, or to do anything normal. But this idea of opening a storefront to sell pot just isn’t something I can support.”

Jim laughed. Len could be very conservative when it came to things like this. Though Jim had smoked pot in Princeton, and he would have liked a joint once in a while to wind down at night, Len wouldn’t allow it in the house. “They are called Medical Marijuana Dispensaries, not pot stores. And it’s all perfectly legal in some states. California is one of them. In California you’re allowed to have up to a certain amount of plants, more, I think, if you get permission from a doctor. It’s complicated and there are a lot of rules to follow. But it might not be a bad idea for Cain. At least he has a goal.”

Len turned and flung Jim a glance. “Dispensaries? How on earth do you know all this?”

Jim shrugged. “I have a client who owns a dispensary. I guess I never mentioned it before.” Because Jim worked at home, he liked to leave work behind when he shut down his office for the day. He rarely discussed his clients unless Len asked him specific questions.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Len said. “Let’s go to bed early.” He reached over, put his hand between Jim’s legs, and squeezed his ass.

On any other night, Jim would have spread his legs wider so Len’s fingers could go deeper. Their love-making had calmed down in the past year, and Jim often wondered if the proverbial honeymoon was over. When they’d first fallen in love, Len had been more aggressive, almost sleazy in his love-making. Now he yawned in front of the TV most nights and Jim couldn’t blame him. He was just as tired. Working full time, raising a child, and dealing with the everyday realities in their lives wasn’t always easy.

But that night Jim sat up and blinked. “Len, don’t do that.” He smacked Len’s hand and clamped his knees shut. “Cain could walk out here at any moment and see it. I’m still not sure he accepts the fact that you’re gay, let alone that I’m your husband.” Sometimes even Jim had trouble believing he was his best friend’s stepdad. They’d had a small marriage ceremony with a few close friends. And though same sex marriage wasn’t federally recognized, they referred to each other as husband and husband.

“He’s had three years to process all this,” Len said. “It’s time for him to grow up and realize that I’m gay, we’re married, and that it’s not going to change. If he were gay I would feel the same way.”

“I know,” Jim said. “But I’d feel more comfortable while he’s here if we remained discreet. And it’s not like we’re the kind of couple that holds hands while walking down the street.” Neither one of them had ever been overly affectionate in public. And it had nothing to do with them being gay. Len was a very discreet man in every aspect of his life. He didn’t drive a flashy car to let people know he had money; he still wore the same cowboy hat he’d had for the past ten years. Len and Jim didn’t have anything to prove to anyone, nor did they feel the need to put on a show or a display in public for the sake of shock value. They kept their passion and emotion for the privacy of their own bedroom.

Len stood up and scratched his crotch; he yawned. He was wearing those baggy short pants that Jim always thought looked so cute on him. “I’ll go take a shower and wait for you in bed.”

Jim glanced at him and smiled. “Don’t take a shower; just wait for me in bed. I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to do a few things in the kitchen first.” Jim preferred Len to smell natural, like a man, when they made love. He didn’t want him to smell soft and powdery and sweet.

“But I went to the stables and rode for an hour this afternoon,” Len said. “I really should shower.” Twice a week, without fail, Len put on his cowboy hat, his cowboy boots, and drove to a ranch in Chatsworth where he could ride horses. Sometimes Jim went with him if he had time. But for the most part it was Len’s private time, to be alone with his thoughts and release all the stress that had built up from working as an investment banker.

Jim glanced back to make sure Cain wasn’t standing in the kitchen. Then he ran his hand up the side of Len’s strong leg, up through his baggy short pants and boxer shorts, and he grabbed Len’s dick. He squeezed it and said, “I’d rather you didn’t shower first. We can both shower afterward.”

Chapter Three

While Len was waiting for Jim in the bedroom, Jim pulled a few of his favorite cleaning supplies out from under the sink and touched up a few things in the kitchen. When he walked into the kitchen every morning sparkling appliances made him smile. He liked the black granite counters to shine and he used a special product for this. He liked to see his reflection in the stainless steel appliances, and he had another special product for that. He’d always believed that if he kept up with things daily he wouldn’t have to spend long hours cleaning during his spare time. In other words, he never actually spent a full day house-cleaning. He cleaned as he went along.

Len had offered to hire a cleaning person to come in once or twice a week but the house was small enough for Jim to handle on his own. And it wasn’t as if Len didn’t pitch in. He would have done more around the house if he’d had time. Their relationship may have been defined in the bedroom in very specific ways, but around the house they were both equals. There were times when nothing turned Jim on more than seeing Len push the dust mop across the hardwood floors.

Before Jim put the stainless steel cleaner away, he spotted a few smudges on the bottom of the refrigerator. So he quickly went down on his hands and knees and sprayed the surface. But while he was down there wiping, he glanced up and saw a pair of naked legs in front of him. When he looked up, his head jerked back and he stood up so fast he dropped the cleaner.

Cain was standing there stark naked, with wet hair and a ridiculous grin. He smiled and said, “I was wondering if you have a hair dryer I could borrow. I left mine in Hawaii and I didn’t see one in the bathroom.” Then he bent down slowly, picked up the cleaner, and set it on the counter.

Jim started rubbing the clean counter, pretending to be busy so he wouldn’t have to look at Cain. “There’s one in the closet in the guest room,” he said, with a nervous lilt in his voice. “It’s hanging on a hook. You can’t miss it.” His head went down and he started rubbing the counter faster.

“Okay, man,” Cain said. “Thanks. Sorry to bother you. I guess you’re going to bed now. I guess when you’re with someone my dad’s age you go to bed earlier.”

“I was just ready to turn out the lights, and don’t be cute,” Jim said. “Your dad can run circles around me when it comes to energy.” He wanted to tell Cain to go back and put on a robe. He didn’t think it was appropriate for Cain to be walking around naked that way. But he decided not to say anything at all. He’d grown up with Cain. They’d been best friends all through school. They’d showered together in locker rooms, they’d undressed in front of each other without thinking twice about it, and they’d even gone skinny dipping on hot summer nights. There had never been anything sexual between them. Of course there were times when Jim had been attracted to Cain. Back when Jim was still in the closet and very frustrated sexually he used to secretly long to be with Cain. He’d sniffed his underwear and socks more than once. But none of this had ever led to anything sexual.

Cain crossed to where Jim was standing, loping in his bare feet. While Jim was still cleaning the counter, Cain put his arms around him and said, “Thanks for taking me in this way. I just want you to know that in spite of everything that’s happened I still consider you my best friend in the entire world.”

Jim stopped moving. He didn’t try to put his arms around Cain. He nodded and said, “I feel the same way about you.” He didn’t feel even slightly attracted to Cain. He felt more awkward than anything else and he couldn’t wait for Cain to go back to bed and leave him alone.

Cain squeezed him hard and then stepped back. He turned and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, man. I guess you want to get to bed. I’m sure my dad, with all his extra energy, is waiting for you right now.”

Jim ignored that remark. It sounded innocent enough. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He knew Cain too well not to suspect there wasn’t a slight hint of sarcasm between the lines. Cain was insinuating that Len was waiting for Jim in the bedroom for sex, not sleep. He obviously still had problems with the fact that Jim and Len were lovers and partners in every sense of the word. But Jim let that remark go on purpose. He had gay friends at work that actually slept in separate bedrooms when their families came to visit them. For some reason, they thought it was inappropriate for their families to see them go into the same bedroom. Len and Jim didn’t do this, not even when Jim’s mom and dad visited from Texas.

As Cain loped back to the guest room with the same cocky swagger he had when he walked down the street fully dressed, he sent Jim a backward glance and said, “Sweet dreams, baby-boy.” Jim hadn’t been called baby-boy in years. It was a nickname Cain’s mom used to call Jim when he’d been a child. He’d never liked it.

Jim looked up and caught a glimpse of Cain’s naked back. The lights were low. From that distance it could have been Len walking back to the guest room instead of Cain. Their naked bodies were almost identical. “Unless you want to be up early, you’d better close your bedroom door. We’re all up around seven in the morning. I take Culum to pre-school at eight, and your dad leaves for the office around the same time.”

“No problem, dude,” Cain said. “I’m an early riser.”

Jim watched him turn the corner. Before he turned, he reached down and scratched his dick. Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. If Cain continued to walk around naked in the house he’d have to say something to him. This wasn’t a frat house; Len and Jim wore clothes at all times, especially with Culum around. If he was going to live with them indefinitely he had to conform to their rules.