Vicktor Alexander's Blog, page 2

Hey everyone!!!!!

Woohoo!!! Welcome to my BIG Birthday Paperback Giveaway!
Since it's November 16th, my birthday and I'm turning 32 I decided to do a BIG paperback giveaway and... you know a normal giveaway as well. LOL. And when I was trying to figure out what to do for my birthday I found out that my dear friend, Shae Connor, had a book releasing today, on my birthday. Then I found out that another friend, Piper Vaughn, had a book releasing today as well, with Kenzie Cade. So I decided to do a BIG paperback giveaway where I am giving away to ONE winner: 1 signed paperback copy of Nobody's Son, 1 paperback copy of Prickly By Nature, 1 signed paperback copy of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb, 1 signed paperback copy of The Alpha's Beautiful Mate, and 1 signed paperback copy of The Alpha King, along with swag from Shae Connor and Vicktor Alexander, and a $32 Amazon GC. But the gifts don't stop there!
To ONE winner: 1 ebook copy of Nobody's Son, 1 ebook copy of Prickly By Nature, and 1 ebook copy of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb-gifted to the winner either through Amazon or ARe.

So my assistant, Melissa Kleen, will be choosing a winner by the 19th from among those of you who leave a comment, share the blog post on Facebook and Twitter, and leave us the link in a comment also. So check out the excerpts from the books from Shae, Piper, and myself below and leave a comment so you can be entered to win.

Good luck!

-Vic



Nobody's Son by Shae Connor Sequel to Wayward Son
Sons: Book Three Who wouldn’t want a nice cup of tall, dark, and gorgeous? Shaun Rogers does. He's working at the front desk of a clothing-optional gay resort when Conrad “Con” Brooks walks in. The sweet, funny, and smart IT guy is there to install a new network and security system, and sparks fly between the two men from the start. Trouble is, Shaun’s hiding his sexuality from his grandmother, the only family he has left, and that makes him reluctant to take the leap with Con.Then a man claiming to be Shaun’s absent father shows up out of nowhere, throwing Shaun completely off balance. His life spiraling toward chaos, Shaun soon discovers that his “father” is hiding secrets of his own. When things come to a head between them, it’s Con who comes to Shaun’s rescue—but the incident could force Shaun into a decision he’s not sure he’s ready to make.
ISBN-13978-1-62798-044-9Pages200Cover ArtistMaria Fanning


Excerpt from Nobody’s Son




“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Despite everything, Shaun’s immediate reaction was to say no. “Con—”
“It’s just dinner,” Con pointed out, his deep voice smooth and silky. “Not a lifetime commitment.”
Shaun flushed and dropped his gaze. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s just….”
He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I’m not attracted to you would be a bald-faced lie. I’m straight would be too, even if he still couldn’t bring himself to admit to anything else out loud. Maybe I want it to be more than just dinner was probably closest to the truth, but they had to start somewhere, right?
Con waited, patient. It’s just dinner echoed in Shaun’s head.
“All right,” Shaun finally said. He lifted his head to meet Con’s gaze again. “Just dinner it is.”




“Just dinner” was good. Shortly after Shaun finished his shift at four, Con drove them the short distance down to Commerce and picked out a local bar and grill, nothing fancy. Their conversation over some pretty decent steaks and fries ranged from school to sports to music. Con had a computer science degree, no surprise, but Shaun hadn’t expected the master’s in information security. They both loved basketball, Con loyal to his alma mater, Georgia Tech, which was fine with Shaun, who supported Georgia State for the same reason but mostly cheered for whoever was playing against the University of Georgia. When it came to music, Shaun had a soft spot for his gran’s Motown favorites and the 1990s R&B his mother had preferred, and Con nodded approvingly at both.
By the time Con talked him into splitting one of the ridiculously huge, decadent, layers-of-chocolate desserts on the menu, Shaun had relaxed completely. All their “just dinner” talk aside, having dinner with someone when you knew you were both attracted to each other had to qualify as a date, even if nothing else came of it.
But it was fine. It didn’t matter that there was a man across the table from him. Yeah, they still couldn’t get into public displays of affection—not in a mostly rural area in the Deep South—but they didn’t need to. They could talk and laugh and share a gigantic slice of chocolate cake, and none of the rest of it mattered.
They continued chatting on the way back to the resort, Con asking how Shaun’s swimming had been going, Shaun telling him about taking a quick dip before work on Sunday and managing almost six full laps before his stroke faltered. But as Con pulled his car into a space next to his cabin, Shaun fell silent. His heart pounded, his skin flushed, and his palms went clammy.
Then Con touched his shoulder, one big hand gently turning Shaun to face him. “I know we said ‘just dinner,’” he said. “But—”
Shaun reached for Con with both hands and his mouth.
Con met him halfway.

ebook|paperback

Prickly By Nature by Piper Vaughn & Kenzie Cade Portland Pack Chronicles: Book Two In the four months since hedgehog shifter Avery Babineaux started investigating the disappearance of a young female werewolf from the Portland Pack, he’s discovered his life’s passion. Now he’s apprenticing under established PI Corbin Reid. Avery hopes his training with Reid will help him finally bring Lacey home, but detective work isn’t without its perils, and the potential dangers strain his relationship with his new mate, Dylan.Dylan Green would be perfectly content with his mating and his motorcycle shop if it wasn’t for his constant worry about Avery’s safety and the fact that Avery’s never home. Proud as he might be of Avery’s determination to prove his worth and fulfill his promise to Lacey’s father, Dylan can’t stand the thought of Avery being hurt. Yet what right does he have to demand Avery give up his job when it’s clear Avery’s found his true purpose? Still, Dylan wishes he could, and the appearance of a new police detective who sets his sights on Avery only adds to the tension.Something has to give, but stubbornness runs in both their veins, and it might take a catastrophe for them to find a compromise they can live with.ISBN-13978-1-62380-161-8Pages260Cover ArtistReese Dante
 
Excerpt from Prickly By Nature:


RUNNING NAKED through the woods was exactly what Dylan Green needed. Thank the weather gods they’d held back the rain for the past few days. At least the ground was drier. Although wet forest floors didn’t matter to Dylan’s wolf. He was ready to stretch all four legs. It had been too long. Even longer since he’d run with his mate.

“Can you not get this heap to move any faster?” Avery practically vibrated off the seat next to him. Good thing he’d chosen the Firebird over his bike today.

“Hey now. Phoenix is not a heap.” Dylan patted the pristine dash, brushing over the treated wood with love. After glancing at the speedometer, he said, “We’re going the speed limit.” Which, yes, he knew was an anomaly for him, but only when he was on his bike. Phoenix required more finesse.

Before he could say anything else, Avery snorted and cut him off. “Phoenix?”

Unabashed, Dylan kept his focus on the road. “Firebird. Phoenix. Phe and I have been through a lot together. She’s pa—”

“Did you just nickname the car you call Phoenix? And dear God”—Dylan grinned at Avery’s pronunciation of God. It came out more like “Gawd.” He loved how Avery’s accent took over when he was teasing or passionate or angry—“please don’t tell me you’re about to say this mash of metal, oil, and leather is part of your family, our family. I do not, nor will I ever, claim a hunk of junk as a child. You can bet your ass I won’t be wiping its behind.”

That, in fact, was exactly what Dylan was going to say, but thinking about it at the moment, he had to admit how ridiculous it sounded out loud. Though he’d never say so to Avery.

Avery continued, “And let me guess, you talk to your baby.” Dylan could practically hear the giggle Avery was working so hard to suppress. “Does Phe talk back?”

The road up to Forest Park was narrow and curvy, so turning to look at Avery would have to wait. However, he did roll his eyes and reach over to pinch Avery’s thigh. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Cars don’t have verbal skills.” And, yes, he did talk to Phoenix, because until Avery came along, Phe had been the one thing in his life he’d pampered and taken care of that had never let him down. So what if he talked aimlessly to a vehicle? He’d worked hard to build her. That bond was unbreakable.

He thought of Avery, then amended himself. Almost unbreakable.

Phoenix was his baby. She had seen him through many tough times, and he had done the same for her, but there was no connection stronger than what linked Dylan and Avery. Sitting only inches away and not touching, Dylan still felt Avery like a second skin. So much so that, as he turned off the road to park near one of the forest trails, he felt Avery’s mirth in his bones. Without looking, he knew his mate would have a sparkle in his earthy hazel eyes and a smirk on the lips Dylan craved so much.

He even knew Avery would chuckle before he did, but that had more to do with knowing the man than an actual feeling.

“So what you’re saying is Phoenix doesn’t talk back when you ask how her day went?”

Dylan pulled into an available spot, turned off the engine, and opened his door. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he replied with a wink and unfolded himself from the front seat.

“Aww”—Avery chased him from the car—“you say the nicest things.”

The brush of Avery’s palm over his ass had the ever-smoldering embers of need inside Dylan blazing to life, completely trumping the lighthearted teasing. How was it possible he wanted Avery more every day?

“You know,” Avery said in a low but conversational tone as they walked to where Lucas, Sawyer, and Kirk were parking their bikes, “I like it when you’re a pain in my ass. What do you say we blow this run and….” He trailed off, quirking his brow at the obvious.

Dylan groaned. Temptation had nothing on Avery Babineaux, and Dylan’s first instinct was to give in to the suggestion, but then he remembered why they were there in the first place.

In the months following Avery’s rescue from the warehouse and Melnyk’s entry into protective custody, Avery stayed true to his word. With help from one of Lucas’s ex-flings, Avery was currently a proud PI’s apprentice. It would still take months—many of them—for Avery to complete the hours of training needed to gain his own license, but he was well on his way. Corbin Reid, Lucas’s ex’s cousin, had taken Avery under his wing and in turn consumed most of his downtime. Dylan had only rare moments with his mate, depending on Avery’s busy work schedule—honeymoon phase or not. Visits to Wolfhound and even nightclubs with Avery were few and far between. Avery spent long hours immersing himself in the world of investigation and soaking up every little thing Reid was willing to teach. And when he wasn’t working, he was searching for Lacey.

By the time they’d broken the first link in the chain of the trafficking ring, Lacey had been missing four months. They had just crossed over into February, which made it six months, and from what they’d heard, the police were no closer to finding Lacey than Avery was. It didn’t help that Wallace, the shifter detective they’d been getting updates from, had gone silent once he transferred into the Human Trafficking Task Force.

While days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Avery hunted the dregs of every single lead he could scrounge up. Dylan watched helplessly as the effects of dead end after dead end weighed heavily on his mate. To say he felt useless was an understatement.

Then Mother Nature smiled down on them, with cloudless skies and sunshine in the middle of the wet season. It gave Dylan and Avery the opportunity for the one thing they both needed. Fun.

Dylan hadn’t enjoyed a run in weeks, and it had been longer since he’d played with Avery in the woods. A run was long overdue, and as great as a long hard fuck sounded right then, Dylan knew Avery’s hedgehog had to be aching for freedom too. Besides, having his mate naked and writhing under him was always a possibility when they got home.

Or in the car before they left the park. Dylan smiled, thankful he’d driven Phoenix, even on such a beautiful day. It was an inspired decision. He could definitely see some hot and dirty backseat action in his future.

Looking down, Dylan’s heart filled at the contented look on Avery’s face. All signs of worry and stress were vanquished for the moment. Dylan wondered, not for the first time, if they would ever have a break, ever have time to enjoy their new mating, or whether it would be a never-ending struggle, with outside forces constantly interfering.

“What?” Avery squinted, perplexed. Knowing Avery felt his concern warmed him.

Damn, Dylan didn’t think he’d ever get enough of his mate.

Avery’s nostrils flared, and Dylan knew he sensed his arousal as much as smelled it. He pulled Avery to him and brushed their lips together. As with most things between him and Avery, the kiss quickly deepened. Avery slipped his hand from Dylan’s hip to his chest and tweaked his nipple. Dylan groaned and pushed his tongue into Avery’s mouth, claiming what was already his. It was a battle of wills Dylan knew all too well as Avery’s perfectly orchestrated dance of want and desire balanced on a thin thread Dylan threatened to tear down each time. All of Avery’s taunting and flirting—it was foreplay, and Dylan could hardly wait for the fireworks. It was always worth the wait with Avery. Always.

“For the love of God, could you two get a room?” Lucas complained as he walked up. “Is it impossible to go five minutes without mauling each other?”

Dylan’s only response was a chuckle into Avery’s mouth as he pushed his fingers through Avery’s hair, holding him in place to prolong the kiss. He didn’t have to look to know Avery flipped off Lucas, mostly because he heard the laughter coming from their other friends.

When he pulled his mouth away, Dylan rested his forehead on Avery’s, breathing heavily. Christ, he loved the dazed, sated look Avery got when he was ready to drop to his knees, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen. All because of Dylan. Maybe Dylan should kick his own ass for not taking Avery up on his offer.

With another groan, Dylan touched his lips to Avery’s again, then stepped back.

Avery blinked, then shook his head. He turned to Lucas and graced him with a playful smile. Uh-oh. “No need to be jealous, Lucas. There’s plenty to go around.”




ebook|paperback






The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb
by Vicktor Alexander
Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm: Book Two Orley Garrick is known throughout Angland not only as the man with two dukedoms but also as the hero who survived a brutal kidnapping at the hands of Nafoleon’s army, never once betraying the secrets of His Majesty. Still haunted by his memories, Orley pushes his crippled body to dangerous limits, all in an attempt to run from the demons of his past.Until he meets Chester Boland, a maid in his friend’s household. Orley is besieged by desire for this gorgeous male woman, and by a connection he cannot ignore. But there are those within the Remmington Realm who take issue with the Duke’s choice—especially given Chester’s Tafrican lineage.Having stared death in the face and won, Orley proposes they steal away and elope. However, before they can begin their new life, they uncover dangerous secrets that go deeper than they could ever imagine—involving those they trust the most.Orley and Chester must discover exactly how deep these secrets run before their enemies make sure Chester is removed from Orley’s arms… forever.ISBN-13978-1-63476-544-2Pages304Cover ArtistAnne Cain


Excerpt from The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb


THE SHARP retort of gunfire exploded around Orley Garrick, Duke of Whitcomb, and he ducked, trying to avoid the debris and the bodies of fallen soldiers around him as he surged forward. The smoke from the countless rifles burned his eyes as he desperately looked for the person who had caught his eye. He heard the cries of the dying calling out to him as he rode his horse farther into the thick of battle. Using his sword, he cut down an enemy soldier who raced toward him, mouth open as he let out a battle cry. Orley closed his eyes against the spray of blood across his face and blocked out the sound of the man’s death gurgle as he fell to the ground beneath his own horse.

Orley raced on toward the figure in white who didn’t belong on the battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the woman to be careful, because there was no way a man would be on a battlefield wearing a long, flowing white chemise, free of dust and bloodstain, appearing almost angelic among the crowd of soldiers. The woman didn’t stop. Instead she walked straight toward the commander of the enemy soldiers, and fear filled Orley. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t know the woman, and yet he could not let anything happen to her.
At that moment, the woman turned to look at him, and Orley gasped when he realized the woman in front of him was not female as he’d suspected but male. Why in the world was a lady on the battlefield?

“You should not be here!” he yelled, trying to warn the male, but just as he got close enough to lift the woman onto the back of his horse, an enemy soldier plunged his sword through the woman’s back and out through his chest. Orley watched helplessly as the woman’s eyes widened moments before he collapsed to the ground, and a grief unlike aught he’d ever experienced ripped through him.

He was not sure how he knew, but the dying woman belonged to him, and someone had just taken him away.

Tossing his head back, Orley let out an anguished shout at the heavens.


ORLEY WOKE, panting and sweating, in the home of his friend, Heathcliff.
Holy. Shit. That one had been very different from his other nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as pain raced through his leg—the one that would never be the same. All because of war, a battle. All because of….
Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
Someone knocked lightly on the door, and Orley winced as he realized his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap after his taxing journey out of Tlondon had turned into a deep sleep and a brand-new nightmare.
God, he hated sleeping.
“Enter,” he called out as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed he was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and Lucien for their country-house party. The door opened, and Orley turned to address the person standing there. He stopped short, almost swallowing his tongue as he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever been born.
Orley had been privileged to see many beautiful people in his life. Male and female, he was a lover of aesthetically pleasing images and didn’t discriminate. However, all of them paled in comparison to the lovely light-brown-skinned woman in front of him. Orley’s stomach clenched, his groin tightening as he inhaled sharply. The lovely scent of jasmine wafted up to his nostrils, and his eyes slid closed as he relished in the delightful fragrance emanating from the male who had just entered his room.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was sent to bring you a light repast and perhaps something to wash up with? His Grace the Duke of Pompinshire thought that perhaps you would like to freshen up before joining the rest of the guests downstairs.” The woman’s voice was soft and lyrical, with a slight lilt to it, and Orley wondered if perhaps he sang. He would have no problem lounging around on the settee listening to him sing or even just talk. Of course, as he took in the male’s appearance, he felt the desire to do much more than just listen to him.
“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant asked, and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.
“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts, I’m afraid. I appear to have overslept during my nap, and now I am feeling quite peckish,” he lied.
The woman nodded, his hazel eyes lighting with relief. Orley wondered at that. Was his well-being really of great concern, or was it just because the maid had been sent to look after Orley?
Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the young male’s form again, taking in every detail intently. He would like to have something to conjure up in his mind’s eye later on that evening when he put his hand to his already burgeoning erection.
Wearing the female black dress with a white apron, which was the maid’s uniform that was standard in most homes of the gentry, the young woman had honey blond hair that was currently pulled back in a very luscious chignon at the nape of his neck, and Orley could only imagine how long and thick it was. An image rose to his brain of that hair hanging down over his face as the young woman slid up and down his cock, and he pressed a hand to the sheets covering his waist. The young male’s skin was almond colored, and all Orley wanted to do was spend hours licking every inch of his body. He was not overly tall, only a few inches taller than Lucien, Heath’s husband, but still much shorter than Orley. And where Orley was all hard, thick muscles, the male maid before him was slender, though still with a lovely, toned body.
His slim-fingered hands held a covered silver tray, and Orley gestured him forward with a beckoning wave.
“Well, far be it from me to refuse such generosity from His Grace. You can just place it there on the nightstand,” he directed, watching the sway of the servant’s hips beneath the skirt of his maid’s gown as he walked toward the cherrywood nightstand. Orley shoved his fingers through his blond locks, messing up his hair and throwing his queue into disarray. He was unnerved as the vestiges of the nightmare faded from his mind, wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of Heathcliff’s maid, whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in his balls.
“Is there anything else that I can do for you, Your Grace?” the maid asked, his voice hushed, eyes downcast, and a slight tinge of red to his light brown skin.
Orley prided himself on being a man of honor, integrity, and character. As a matter of fact, his grandfather, Charles Edrick Garrick I, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him lessons and lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Anyone can strut around and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes honor, patience, gentleness, character, integrity, fortitude, knowing when to fight, knowing when to walk away, knowing when to love, how to love, and when to let go, and most importantly, knowing when to use your physical strength and when to be humble, that makes you a man.
Orley had always believed those words from his grandfather, had in fact lived by those words for his entire life. He’d only strayed from them when he’d served in His Majesty’s military and on those rare occasions when he’d allowed Blaine, Heathcliff, and Quincy to talk him into traveling down into the Lower East End to partake of the wares of the light-skirts. And while his grandfather’s words usually guided him, right now he was seriously considering doing something illicit.
He couldn’t believe the images that were passing through his mind. Flashes. Quick, as if they were memories like his time spent on the battlefield rather than the salacious, hopeful yearnings of a desirous, dry, fruitless attraction. However, the longer he spent in the company of the object of his mind’s current musings, the more it seemed his “dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And perhaps it was for that reason that rationality and his grandfather’s words of character, honor, and integrity grew softer and softer until they were suddenly silent. All he could concentrate on was how lovely Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the male woman’s derriere was. How slim his shoulders were. How graceful his neck was.
How full his lips were, and how much Orley desperately wanted to kiss them.
“I think I would really like to know your name,” he heard himself saying.
The maid’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly. “Me, Your Grace?”
Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no one else in the room but you and I, and I assure you that I already know my own name. Unless it has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”
The maid giggled and covered his mouth, shaking his head. Orley found himself even more enchanted. When was the last time he’d heard someone allow themselves to be so free that they just giggled? His life was constantly surrounded by danger, drama, gossip, backstabbers, and intrigue. He had a very small group of people he could trust, and they didn’t often have the time to smile, much less giggle. Being around someone who could giggle was a relief. It was like a bright ray of sunshine. Orley absolutely had to have the maid’s name.
“No, Your Grace. Your name hasn’t changed.” The maid glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then looked back. “My name is Chester.” He executed a flawless curtsy, and Orley rose from the bed and bowed low, smiling at Chester’s gasp. He knew Chester was surprised that a member of the gentry, and a duke no less, would bow to him, but he would soon learn that Orley was unlike every other duke out there.
“It is an honor to meet you, Chester. I am extremely happy to be in your presence and very happy that you will be serving me, and now….” Orley stepped close to Chester, looking down into the young woman’s hazel brown eyes. His heart was pounding, and his leg, for the first time in years, was not throbbing in pain—perhaps that was because only one thing on his body could be throbbing at a time, and his cock already had that covered. “I would very much like to kiss you.”
“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.
Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.
“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I would really like to kiss you. May I?”
“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”
Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with “men” of a certain ilk. He would be speaking with Heathcliff about those matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his energy and attention was focused on Chester.
“Of course I am asking you. You always have a choice. Not just with me, but with every single man in the world. You do not have to do anything you don’t want to do. At least, that is the way it should be in a perfect world. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.” Orley would be disappointed, he would be haunted for days, perhaps a fortnight, by the fullness of Chester’s mouth, but eventually he would get over it.
Chester nibbled on his bottom lip and then grinned. “I would love for you to kiss me, Your Grace.”
Orley wanted to let out a loud yell of triumph, but he held back and lowered his lips to Chester’s full, pillow-soft mouth. He was fully expecting the surge of lust that spread through his limbs. Maybe he was even expecting the tingle that spread through his fingers and toes. However, the lightheaded feeling that drowned him in peace and yet simultaneous excitement, and the way his heart sped up, were completely unexpected. He growled and pulled Chester to him, as close as he could possibly get the woman. He felt a bit like a ravenous beast, wanting to devour Chester whole.
He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened his eyes, and gazed down into Chester’s dazed ones. Chester smiled slowly up at him. Orley grinned back, rubbing his hand up and down Chester’s back and already preparing for the next round of kissing.
So he was surprised when he went to lower his head for another kiss and was met with nothing but air and the sound of his bedroom door closing.

ebook|paperback

So... my birthday is on Monday... this is what I want you all to get me: I want you to commit an act of kindness and tell me about it. I usually ask for donations to be sent to a charity (and that is an act of kindness) but for those of you who can't donate money, there's still something you can do. I got the first 10 suggestions from Upworthy​*, but I added the last 6.

1. Thank someone who's supported you in the past, like a teacher, friend, or mentor, by giving them a hand-written letter.

2. Spend a couple hours volunteering at a local nonprofit organization.

3. Donate goods to a local shelter.

4. Buy lemonade at a child's lemonade stand.

5. Call a friend and tell them how much they mean to you.

6. Send kind words to someone getting a lot of hate on social media.

7. Send groceries to a friend who is busy and/or going through a difficult time.

8. Put a quarter in an expired parking meter to help a stranger avoid getting a ticket.

9. Send flowers anonymously to a receptionist or security guard.

10. Leave an encouraging note somewhere on a store shelf or in a popular library book.

****
11. Gift a book to someone who can't afford to buy one.

12. Pay a visit to the children's wing of a hospital to entertain the kids.

13. Send an encouraging message to a soldier.

14. Donate time/goods/money to a charity.

15. Buy lunch for a coworker.

16. Adopt a pet from a shelter

17. Donate to To France From Boston for the survivors of the Paris attack.

18. Donate to the survivors of Beirut and Lebanon who were also attacked by terrorists.


*http://www.upworthy.com/a-bride-asked...

(This is for you, Beany)

A special Super Sexy Saturday post, and it's from the Truth or Dare: The College Years Anthology .


This is just because I like you guys and I know I've kept you guys waiting for this collection of short stories. I'm still working on them. I'm going to eventually find the cut-off point and stop. That time isn't now.

Anyway, enjoy:





The RA & The Freshman
Tuan Nguyen let out the deep breath he'd been holding and squared his shoulders. He wasn't sure why he was making such a big deal about this. Everyone went to the RA about their problems. It wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't like his situation was any different than anyone else's. Except the fact that it was. He lifted a hand and knocked on the door. He grinned when he heard Enrique Santiago, the RA's, deep, whiskey voice calling out from within the room that he was "coming."Not yet, but if things work out for us like they have everyone else, then you will be soon.Tuan was friends with Mitchell and Brody and they had both told him about their recent forays into the game "Truth or Dare" and how it had led to them hooking up with the guys they'd been lusting over for quite a long time. When Brody had first mentioned it, Tuan had laughed hysterically, just like Mitchell. However, when Mitchell came back to tell him that "the fucking game worked," Tuan knew he had to give it a shot.He'd tried every other way to get Enrique to notice him as something more than just a freshman living in his dorms. One whom Enrique seemed to need to take care of more than the others, since he'd seemed to become a major target on the jocks' radar. So while Tuan wasn't one of those lovesick gay boys who sat around in HGR (Hopeless Gay Romantics) at his school and whimpered about the crush and love of his life that didn't even see him, his problem was that Enrique saw him all too well, just not in the way that Tuan wanted him to.Hearing Enrique's footsteps getting closer, Tuan looked around the hallway, ensuring that no one was around and tugged on the strap to his duffle bag. He'd taken quite a bit of the money his parents had sent him over the last few months, saving up to buy the items in this bag, all in anticipation of tonight. Hopefully things went well and he and Enrique would be able to use most if not all the items in the bag that night.When the door opened, Tuan looked up into Enrique's hazel eyes with a grin. Enrique was a gorgeous Hispanic man. He was at the college on both a football and an academic scholarship, and then spent time as one of three RAs in their dorm. Tuan was always surprised when he saw Enrique. He wasn't exactly sure why. He knew what Enrique looked like by now, had a picture of Enrique on his iPhone that he'd taken one day when the guys from their dorm had gone outside to play touch football in the field. And yet, whenever he saw Enrique, Tuan still took in a harsh, shuddering breath, as if he were just learning how to perform the action again. Enrique looked a bit like Adam Rodriguez, the actor, in the face, though he was built like Joe Manganiello from the neck down, all big, huge, tanned muscles. It made Tuan's little gay boy heart pant and whine with desire."Hey TN! What up?" Enrique asked him and Tuan felt his face grow hot. He had to stop himself from stripping down in the middle of the hallway and begging Enrique to plow him right there."Hi, Enrique. Um... can I talk to you for a minute?" Tuan asked shyly."Yeah man, of course. C'mon in." Enrique waved him forward and Tuan stepped inside Enrique's room, turning to watch as Enrique placed the "RA in Session" sign outside of the door. Tuan breathed a sigh of relief. That gave them quite a bit of time to hopefully get something started and finish without being interrupted, since the students could always go to one of the other RAs."So, what do you need to talk to me about Tuan?" Enrique asked, his eyes soft and compassionate, his expression open.Tuan sat down on the couch Enrique had in his "session" room, placed his duffle bag on the floor at his feet, and rubbed his hands over his face. Here goes nothing. "I'm confused," he started off saying.Enrique tilted his head to the side. "Confused? About what? Are your classes too difficult? Are you having trouble navigating around campus?""No, no. Nothing like that," Tuan answered, shaking his head. He blew out a long, slow, breath. "I'm confused about if I should follow my friends' advice about telling this guy that I like him."If Enrique was surprised to hear that Tuan was gay he didn't show it, merely nodding his head as he sat in the armchair next to the couch and leaned forward. "Okay, what has you so confused? Is the advice they're giving you something that's illegal?""No. Absolutely not," Tuan denied."Alright. Is it something that will put your life in danger?"Tuan smiled. "I don't think so. I don't believe it will, no."Enrique grinned and scratched at his chest. "So what is this advice that has you so confused and worried, then?"Tuan stared into Enrique's eyes and went for broke. "Well, they all played Truth or Dare with the guys they were interested in and it all seemed to work out for them. They suggested that I do the same. But I'm just not sure."Enrique blinked at Tuan in surprise and if Tuan hadn't been so freaked out by what he was trying to do, he might have laughed. "That's a little unorthodox. Not really something I've heard of before, but why would that have you confused?"Tuan shrugged. "Well, don't you think that most guys would say no to something like that? Aren't I just setting myself up for failure?"Enrique shook his head. "I don't think so. I rather enjoy a good game of Truth or Dare, myself."Jackpot, Tuan thought. "Well... um... do you think I could possibly try it out on you? I mean Mitchell and Brody are well... not big Vietnamese nerds like me, you know? And I'm pretty sure the guys they played with were already half in love with already, but me? I'm not sure if I'm just going to end up fucking everything to hell and back. And not in a good way."Enrique hesitated and Tuan watched as the RA glanced over at the clock on the wall before nodding. "Yeah, sure. I guess we can play a quick game. But if it's just Truth or Dare, why wouldn't you just immediately say truth and then tell him how you feel?"Tuan shook his head. "No one ever chooses truth Enrique, you know that. And the ones that do are either fishing for information, or they're pansies."Enrique laughed. "You're right about that. So what do you plan to do?""Let's just play and I'll tell do what the guys told me to do and you let me know if it works.""Okay." Enrique nodded. "Do you want to go first or should I?"Tuan gestured. "You ask first."Enrique inclined his head. "Alright. Truth or dare?"Tuan smirked. "Dare."Enrique chuckled. "Umm... alright. I guess I should have been prepared for that. Well then, I dare you to..." Enrique looked around the room before he turned back to Tuan with a wide grin. "I dare you to eat one of the cherry tarts my mother made."Tuan frowned. What the fuck? "Why is this a dare? I love sweets."Enrique chortled. "You'll see."Tuan shrugged and stood up to walk over and lift up one of the pastries Enrique had on a plate in his kitchen area. The tart was a lot heavier than Tuan expected but he bit into it anyway. The taste of cherry exploded over his tastebuds and Tuan turned to Enrique to tell him his dare was stupid, only to have the taste of guacamole, beef, then hot sauce flow over his tongue. Tuan wanted to spit it out. He did. But then he would lose and the game would be over and that was just unacceptable. Swallowing the disgusting dessert, Tuan continued to eat. Watching as Enrique laughed silently, even as he continued to watch Tuan choke down the dessert pastry. Once Tuan had finished the tart, he wiped his mouth and bent over to grasp his knees as a wave of nausea clenched his stomach. When it passed, Tuan stood upright fully."Why?" he asked. "Why would she do that?"Enrique slapped his hands down on the armchair as he let out a rumble of amusement. "She said the cherry tarts weren't ethnic enough and she could fit an entire meal in one if she wanted to. So I'm the guinea pig. Or rather you are."Tuan shook his head. "Dude, tell your mother that some things should not be trifled with and that the cherry tart she made tasted rank.""Or you know, I could find a nicer way to say that.""Or that.""So it's your turn now."Tuan nodded. Let's do this, Tuan, he encouraged himself. "Okay, Enrique, truth or dare?""Dare. And pretend I'm the guy you like and this is where you get the chance to find out if he likes you or not."Yes, that's exactly what I'm counting on. "I dare you to do a scene with me."Enrique's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "A w-what?""A scene? Isn't that what you call it? I did my research and everything after I saw you coming out of that bar with those guys and girls in leather and corsets, some of them with collars and leashes. I asked and went onto this one website and they told me you were a part of the BDSM comunity, so that's what I want.""I-I u-u-um," Enrique appeared to be stunned into absolute silence, so Tuan thought he would help him out. Bending over he opened his duffle bag and began pulling out the red Shibari ropes, flogger, paddle, crop, nipple clamps, ball gag, blindfold, and of course the requirement of any gay man's arsenal: condoms and lube. He placed all of the items on the table and returned his gaze back to Enrique. Tuan watched as Enrique looked over all of the items before he looked back at Tuan. Tuan shivered at the heat he saw in Enrique's eyes and swallowed, nervousness causing his heart to pound and his palms to sweat."So, Enrique, I dare you to do a scene with me," Tuan said again. He gasped when Enrique rose quickly from his seat, looming over him, an inscrutable expression on his face."The community I am a part of does not consider BDSM, the act of Domination and submission, to be a game, Tuan. It is a Lifestyle. However, we all understand that there are those who are curious. So I will do a brief scene with you. Now, do you know about safewords?"Tuan nodded. He had done thorough research and asked a lot of questions. He was really good at getting answers when he was focused on something."When I ask you a question during a scene, I expect your response to be: yes, Sir or no, Sir, accordingly. Understand?"Tuan almost nodded again, but quickly caught himself. "Yes, Sir.""Good boy," Enrique said, with a slight quirk to the left side of his lips. "Now, what is your safeword?""Red." It was the word he'd been told was commonly used by many subs to call a halt to scene."Okay. Now. Stand up and take off your clothes. Fold them neatly and place them on the corner of the coffee table," Enrique ordered him.Without question, Tuan rose and disrobed, folding his clothes and placing them where he'd been told to. When he was finished, Tuan looked up at Enrique, feeling his nipples pebble and his cock lengthen and grow hard, pointing straight out from his body as he stood, displayed before Enrique. Tuan trembled as Enrique walked around him, running his fingers lightly along Tuan's shoulders and down his arms."Kneel."Tuan dropped to the floor, folding his hands behind the small of his back, his knees together, as he sat on his heels, the way one of the subs on Fetlife had told him to do."So beautiful." Tuan heard Enrique say. "Do not move. Do not speak unless I ask you a direct question. And do not come unless I tell you to. Do you understand?""Yes, Sir.""Good. Now what are your hard limits?"As Tuan sat on the floor, he and Enrique worked out an one-time/one-scene negotiation between them, complete with hard and soft limits. When they were done, Tuan's toes, knees, hell even his calves were beginning to go numb, but his mind, usually filled with a cacophony of scientific equations, tasks to be done, worries, concerns, and a never-ending need to find someone to help him feel peaceful in his own skin, was blessedly silent. All he could hear was the dual sound of his and Enrique's breathing, Enrique moving around the room as he touched Tuan gently before walking over to the table and picking something up.Tuan tracked Enrique's support back towards him, then trembled when he felt the brush of the soft Shibari rope against his back and slid his eyes closed.Slowly, as if he were allowing Tuan to get used to the sensation, Enrique began to wrap Tuan in the rope. Tuan felt himself sink deeper and deeper into subspace as Enrique bound him further, surrounding his arms, his torso, down around his thighs, framing his hard shaft, and going down the center of his ass cheeks. Tuan felt deliciously debauched, floaty, and so hard it hurt, though the rope was perilously close to his erection and Tuan would have thought something like that would turn him off. When Enrique was finished, Tuan anxiously awaited for what was next and listened to the RA as he made his way back to the table to pick up something else. When he returned, he ran the flat of the paddle against Tuan's nipples, before flipping it over to let him feel the other side which was bumpy and covered with ridges."Count them off," Enrique stated."Yes, Sir."Tuan tracked Enrique as he stepped around behind Tuan, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him forward, until his ass was upturned and displayed. The first hit took Tuan by surprise since he'd been expecting the paddle. Instead Enrique smacked Tuan's ass with his bare hand."One, Sir."The next hit to his butt, over the ropes was also with Enrique's hand, though the third slap was with the paddle. WHACK! Tuan gasped, remembering the rule about not being able to speak, and after stating the number of hits, closed his mouth again. He followed the orders, even as his entire body trembled, and the pain in his rear morphed into sweet, blissful pleasure. After the tenth smack against his ass, Enrique moved on and picked up something else from the table.The muscles in Tuan's body twitched as Enrique slowly slid the leather strips of the flogger over Tuan's back. He moaned softly as Enrique stroked his skin with the flogger before bringing it down onto his back, gently at first before increasing strength and speed. Tuan clenched his fingers longing to cry out in pleasure, in pain, in delight, but unable to do either. Instead, he focused on Enrique, letting this man, whom he had trusted from the first moment they met, redden, and mark his flesh, heating it up, with first the flogger, then the crop. As soon as the last strike landed ("Thirty, Sir.") Tuan heard the rustle of fabric behind him.The tear of a wrapper let Tuan know what Enrique was doing back there and had he not been feeling so weightless, if his body was not so filled with endorphins from being in supspace and the painful pleasure he had just experienced at Enrique's hands, he would have probably stiffed. However, he merely sighed when the clicking of a bottle being opened rang out throughout the small seating area, moments before Enrique gripped the rope running in between Tuan's ass, and after sliding his fingers up and down the bottom of the rope, causing Tuan to tremble at the other man's touch, moved it to the side, exposing Tuan's clenching hole.Tuan bit his lower lip as he felt Enrique's wet and lubed finger circling around his hole, before pressing inside. Tuan groaned at the slight burn and pressed his shoulders deeper into the carpeted floor as Enrique slid in two, then three fingers."Do you like that, Tuan?" Enrique asked."Yes, Sir. it's amazing. You're amazing," Tuan confessed, his voice sounding simultaneously drunk and high."Mmmm. No, baby. That's all you," Enrique murmured. "Tu eres muy caliente." Tuan whimpered and Enrique laughed. "Do you want this, boy?" he asked, pulling his fingers free of Tuan's body, then tapping the head of his cock against the hole of Tuan's ass."Y-yes, Sir.""Beg me for it, Tuan. I want to hear you pleading for my big cock in your ass," Enrique growled and Tuan shivered at the possessive domination in the other man's voice. Holy-fucking-hell, Enrique using that voice had the power to make Tuan want to beg for Enrique to do whatever he wanted to him. To fuck him. Tie him  to Enrique's bed and just use him for the RAs pleasure. He wanted to kneel before Enrique and kiss the man's feet."Please, Sir. Please fuck me. Fill me up with your huge cock and plow me until I forget my name, Sir. I'm begging you. I need you to fill me," Tuan pleaded.Without another word spoken, Enrique pressed deeply inside of Tuan's channel causing Tuan to groan loudly."Fuck yes," Enrique said as the head of his cock popped through the ring of Tuan's ass and Enrique continued sliding inside until Enrique's pelvis was flush against Tuan's bottom. With a hiss, Tuan tried to brace himself as Enrique pulled his dick slowly out of Tuan's hole, until only the head remained, then slammed forward. In and out, back and forth. Fast then slow, until Tuan's orgasm was rushing towards him and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to hold it back. His pre-cum had made a wet spot on the carpet beneath him and Tuan could see fireworks exploding behind his eyelids. His balls began to pull up close to his body and Tuan panted. Chanting to himself over and over again: Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.Then, finally, just when Tuan thought he would explode, Enrique gripped the back of Tuan's neck with one hand, gripped the rope where it was wrapped around Tuan's hips and sped up his thrusts, his rhythm growing erratic."Come," Enrique growled and Tuan's mouth fell open in a silent scream as his cock released a stream of white jizz onto the carpet beneath him, as Enrique shook and jerked behind him, his own orgasm overtaking him.Tuan was laid gently onto his side once Enrique finished and he let out a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again and came to, he was wrapped in Enrique's arms, lying on his bed, with the sheets pulled up over them."Welcome back," Enrique said with a small chuckle."Sorry I passed out on you," Tuan replied, feeling shy all of a sudden."I'm not. I am a little concerned though," Enrique confessed.Tuan frowned and pushed up and back slightly, leaning on one elbow so he could look down into Enrique's face. "Concerned, why?"Enrique grimaced. "If your game of Truth or Dare with the guy you like turns out like ours, I'm afraid I may do something stupid. I sort of feel like I want you to be mine. Like we should be dating."Tuan rolled his eyes and laughed. "For you to be so smart, you're an idiot. You're the guy I wanted to play the game with and I want us to date as well."Enrique's eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"Tuan nodded. "Truth."



Hope you all enjoyed it!! Have a great rest of the weekend.
-Vicktor Alexander

I am sooooo UBERLY (yes, that's a word) to be sharing this with you all!!! It's the cover for The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb book 2 in the Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm series. It's available for pre-order over at Dreamspinner Press (the links are below) and you can add it on Goodreads as well (someone even told me there was a discussion group/thread or a reading group or something like that planned on Goodreads or Facebook? With discussion about the characters, plots, clothing, etc.? Can't remember where. But, how awesome is that? I said if I could find it, I'd try to stop by and maybe there might be some discussion about book 3, but there will DEFINITELY be talk about book 2, but I digress...). I'm also at some other blogs as well. I have some wonderful friends/authors who all are hosting my cover reveal and they all chose different excerpts so you never know what you might end up reading.... (hint, hint). Anyway, go check them out and leave a comment. I'll be bouncing around all day, checking them out (updating the links here), leaving replies to the comments, and who knows, someone might win something.... maybe. You guys know how I am.-Vic
  Cover Reveal Blog Stops
Louise Lyons Thianna Durston Charley Descoteaux Grace R. Duncan Tempeste O'RileyAine P. Maisse Renee Stevens Brightly Books Meg Harding Jana Denardo Antonia Aquilante      


The man with two dukedoms, who stared death in the face and won, faces his greatest challenge: love and marriage to a Tafrican servant in a time when the whole of Tlondon would shun them .



Title: The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb
Series: (Scandalous Whispers of The Remmington Realm, 2)
Author: Vicktor Alexander
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press ISBN-13 978-1-63476-279-3 Pages 304 Genres: Historical, Interracial, Transgender/Intersex, Sci-fi/Fantasy, Romance, Regency, Military, Action, Intrigue

Buy: Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperbook|
Add to: Goodreads

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm: Book Two Orley Garrick is known throughout Angland not only as the man with two dukedoms but also as the hero who survived a brutal kidnapping at the hands of Nafoleon’s army, never once betraying the secrets of His Majesty. Still haunted by his memories, Orley pushes his crippled body to dangerous limits, all in an attempt to run from the demons of his past.  Until he meets Chester Boland, a maid in his friend’s household. Orley is besieged by desire for this gorgeous male woman, and by a connection he cannot ignore. But there are those within the Remmington Realm who take issue with the Duke’s choice—especially given Chester’s Tafrican lineage.  Having stared death in the face and won, Orley proposes they steal away and elope. However, before they can begin their new life, they uncover dangerous secrets that go deeper than they could ever imagine—involving those they trust the most. Orley and Chester must discover exactly how deep these secrets run before their enemies make sure Chester is removed from Orley’s arms… forever.
Excerpt:
 

Chapter One

THE SHARP retort of gunfire exploded around Orley Garrick, Duke of Whitcomb, and he ducked, trying to avoid the debris and the bodies of fallen soldiers around him as he surged forward. The smoke from the countless rifles burned his eyes as he desperately looked for the person who had caught his eye. He heard the cries of the dying calling out to him as he rode his horse farther into the thick of battle. Using his sword, he cut down an enemy soldier who raced toward him, mouth open as he let out a battle cry. Orley closed his eyes against the spray of blood across his face and blocked out the sound of the man’s death gurgle as he fell to the ground beneath his own horse.
Orley raced on toward the figure in white who didn’t belong on the battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the woman to be careful, because there was no way a man would be on a battlefield wearing a long, flowing white chemise, free of dust and bloodstain, appearing almost angelic among the crowd of soldiers. The woman didn’t stop. Instead she walked straight toward the commander of the enemy soldiers, and fear filled Orley. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t know the woman, and yet he could not let anything happen to her.
At that moment, the woman turned to look at him, and Orley gasped when he realized the woman in front of him was not female as he’d suspected but male. Why in the world was a lady on the battlefield?
“You should not be here!” he yelled, trying to warn the male, but just as he got close enough to lift the woman onto the back of his horse, an enemy soldier plunged his sword through the woman’s back and out through his chest. Orley watched helplessly as the woman’s eyes widened moments before he collapsed to the ground, and a grief unlike aught he’d ever experienced ripped through him.
He was not sure how he knew, but the dying woman belonged to him, and someone had just taken him away.
Tossing his head back, Orley let out an anguished shout at the heavens.

ORLEY WOKE, panting and sweating, in the home of his friend, Heathcliff.
Holy. Shit. That one had been very different from his other nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as pain raced through his leg—the one that would never be the same. All because of war, a battle. All because of….
Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
Someone knocked lightly on the door, and Orley winced as he realized his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap after his taxing journey out of Tlondon had turned into a deep sleep and a brand-new nightmare.
God, he hated sleeping.
“Enter,” he called out as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed he was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and Lucien for their country-house party. The door opened, and Orley turned to address the person standing there. He stopped short, almost swallowing his tongue as he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever been born.
Orley had been privileged to see many beautiful people in his life. Male and female, he was a lover of aesthetically pleasing images and didn’t discriminate. However, all of them paled in comparison to the lovely light-brown-skinned woman in front of him. Orley’s stomach clenched, his groin tightening as he inhaled sharply. The lovely scent of jasmine wafted up to his nostrils, and his eyes slid closed as he relished in the delightful fragrance emanating from the male who had just entered his room.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was sent to bring you a light repast and perhaps something to wash up with? His Grace the Duke of Pompinshire thought that perhaps you would like to freshen up before joining the rest of the guests downstairs.” The woman’s voice was soft and lyrical, with a slight lilt to it, and Orley wondered if perhaps he sang. He would have no problem lounging around on the settee listening to him sing or even just talk. Of course, as he took in the male’s appearance, he felt the desire to do much more than just listen to him.
“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant asked, and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.
“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts, I’m afraid. I appear to have overslept during my nap, and now I am feeling quite peckish,” he lied.
The woman nodded, his hazel eyes lighting with relief. Orley wondered at that. Was his well-being really of great concern, or was it just because the maid had been sent to look after Orley?
Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the young male’s form again, taking in every detail intently. He would like to have something to conjure up in his mind’s eye later on that evening when he put his hand to his already burgeoning erection.
Wearing the female black dress with a white apron, which was the maid’s uniform that was standard in most homes of the gentry, the young woman had honey blond hair that was currently pulled back in a very luscious chignon at the nape of his neck, and Orley could only imagine how long and thick it was. An image rose to his brain of that hair hanging down over his face as the young woman slid up and down his cock, and he pressed a hand to the sheets covering his waist. The young male’s skin was almond colored, and all Orley wanted to do was spend hours licking every inch of his body. He was not overly tall, only a few inches taller than Lucien, Heath’s husband, but still much shorter than Orley. And where Orley was all hard, thick muscles, the male maid before him was slender, though still with a lovely, toned body.
His slim-fingered hands held a covered silver tray, and Orley gestured him forward with a beckoning wave.
“Well, far be it from me to refuse such generosity from His Grace. You can just place it there on the nightstand,” he directed, watching the sway of the servant’s hips beneath the skirt of his maid’s gown as he walked toward the cherrywood nightstand. Orley shoved his fingers through his blond locks, messing up his hair and throwing his queue into disarray. He was unnerved as the vestiges of the nightmare faded from his mind, wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of Heathcliff’s maid, whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in his balls.
“Is there anything else that I can do for you, Your Grace?” the maid asked, his voice hushed, eyes downcast, and a slight tinge of red to his light brown skin.
Orley prided himself on being a man of honor, integrity, and character. As a matter of fact, his grandfather, Charles Edrick Garrick I, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him lessons and lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Anyone can strut around and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes honor, patience, gentleness, character, integrity, fortitude, knowing when to fight, knowing when to walk away, knowing when to love, how to love, and when to let go, and most importantly, knowing when to use your physical strength and when to be humble, that makes you a man.
Orley had always believed those words from his grandfather, had in fact lived by those words for his entire life. He’d only strayed from them when he’d served in His Majesty’s military and on those rare occasions when he’d allowed Blaine, Heathcliff, and Quincy to talk him into traveling down into the Lower East End to partake of the wares of the light-skirts. And while his grandfather’s words usually guided him, right now he was seriously considering doing something illicit.
He couldn’t believe the images that were passing through his mind. Flashes. Quick, as if they were memories like his time spent on the battlefield rather than the salacious, hopeful yearnings of a desirous, dry, fruitless attraction. However, the longer he spent in the company of the object of his mind’s current musings, the more it seemed his “dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And perhaps it was for that reason that rationality and his grandfather’s words of character, honor, and integrity grew softer and softer until they were suddenly silent. All he could concentrate on was how lovely Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the male woman’s derriere was. How slim his shoulders were. How graceful his neck was.
How full his lips were, and how much Orley desperately wanted to kiss them.
“I think I would really like to know your name,” he heard himself saying.
The maid’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly. “Me, Your Grace?”
Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no one else in the room but you and I, and I assure you that I already know my own name. Unless it has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”
The maid giggled and covered his mouth, shaking his head. Orley found himself even more enchanted. When was the last time he’d heard someone allow themselves to be so free that they just giggled? His life was constantly surrounded by danger, drama, gossip, backstabbers, and intrigue. He had a very small group of people he could trust, and they didn’t often have the time to smile, much less giggle. Being around someone who could giggle was a relief. It was like a bright ray of sunshine. Orley absolutely had to have the maid’s name.
“No, Your Grace. Your name hasn’t changed.” The maid glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then looked back. “My name is Chester.” He executed a flawless curtsy, and Orley rose from the bed and bowed low, smiling at Chester’s gasp. He knew Chester was surprised that a member of the gentry, and a duke no less, would bow to him, but he would soon learn that Orley was unlike every other duke out there.
“It is an honor to meet you, Chester. I am extremely happy to be in your presence and very happy that you will be serving me, and now….” Orley stepped close to Chester, looking down into the young woman’s hazel brown eyes. His heart was pounding, and his leg, for the first time in years, was not throbbing in pain—perhaps that was because only one thing on his body could be throbbing at a time, and his cock already had that covered. “I would very much like to kiss you.”
“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.
Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.
“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I would really like to kiss you. May I?”
“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”
Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with “men” of a certain ilk. He would be speaking with Heathcliff about those matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his energy and attention was focused on Chester.
“Of course I am asking you. You always have a choice. Not just with me, but with every single man in the world. You do not have to do anything you don’t want to do. At least, that is the way it should be in a perfect world. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.” Orley would be disappointed, he would be haunted for days, perhaps a fortnight, by the fullness of Chester’s mouth, but eventually he would get over it.
Chester nibbled on his bottom lip and then grinned. “I would love for you to kiss me, Your Grace.”
Orley wanted to let out a loud yell of triumph, but he held back and lowered his lips to Chester’s full, pillow-soft mouth. He was fully expecting the surge of lust that spread through his limbs. Maybe he was even expecting the tingle that spread through his fingers and toes. However, the lightheaded feeling that drowned him in peace and yet simultaneous excitement, and the way his heart sped up, were completely unexpected. He growled and pulled Chester to him, as close as he could possibly get the woman. He felt a bit like a ravenous beast, wanting to devour Chester whole.
He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened his eyes, and gazed down into Chester’s dazed ones. Chester smiled slowly up at him. Orley grinned back, rubbing his hand up and down Chester’s back and already preparing for the next round of kissing.
So he was surprised when he went to lower his head for another kiss and was met with nothing but air and the sound of his bedroom door closing.




About Vicktor Alexander:



Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to BDSM to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.Facebook| Twitter| Yahoo Group | Facebook Page | Tumblr| Website| Email| Blog

Author: Louise Lyons

Title: Finding Beck

Publisher: Louise Lyons

Cover artist: Simon Searle

Release date: October 20, 2015

Length: 33,400 words

Genre: Contemporary, 1990s, Gay Romance, Coming Out



Blurb

Martin Lynch has spent the past few years following his best friend Graham’s example, dressing up to go out to their favorite rock club on Friday nights and going through the motions with girls, always missing that spark everyone talks about.
One night in Jezebels nightclub on Martin's twentieth birthday he meets Beck, an androgynous person he initially tries to tell himself is “Becky”. But eventually when Martin feels that excitement he’s never experienced before and the evidence becomes too much to ignore, he’s forced to admit to himself that Beck is a man and accept that he could be gay.
Martin fears the reactions of his best friend and his parents, but in his heart he knows that finding Beck has given him the one thing that’s always been missing, and he prepares to deal with the reactions of family and friends when their secret is discovered.


Excerpt

I left the flat at half past one and caught a bus to the adjoining town of Grimsby. When it pulled into the bus station at ten to two, and I looked out the window at the Barge which was right next to the station, panic filled me. I felt like a real shit for having asked Beck to meet me, and now I was going to ditch her… him. What if I’m wrong? What if she really is Becky?

I stumbled off the bus and dragged a hand through my hair. I’d never been so confused in my life. I’d known—I had to have known when we were kissing, and I’d been rock hard, desperate to touch and be touched. No one had ever made me feel like that. The way Beck’s lips felt on mine, firm and eager; the way his body felt in my arms until he pulled away.

I sat down on a bench and rested my elbows on my knees, my head hanging. Was this why I’d felt so little with all those girls? I really wanted someone like Beck? What would my parents say? And Graham?

“Fuck,” I muttered. Five minutes. I couldn’t be seen sitting outside the pub looking like I wanted to run away. I got to my feet, strode across the paved area toward the Barge, and stepped onboard. In two minutes I had a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale in my hand and had taken a seat in a corner, relieved that no one I knew was in the pub. In fact other than me there were only four other people huddled in a group. I wiped my hands on the edges of the seat, took a gulp of my beer, and checked my watch. Two minutes. My heart slammed against my ribs and I grabbed for the beer again, desperate to relieve my dry mouth.

Minutes passed and I repeatedly glanced at the steps leading up to the entrance, but no one else entered the pub. I finished my beer as slowly as I could manage, and eventually two men came in, but neither one was Beck. One of them had a pet rat sitting on his shoulder and I stared in fascination as he collected drinks and crisps from the bar, and sat down with his friend. He fed the rat bits of the crisps while he sipped his drink. Weird.

Two thirty came and went, and the time crawled onward to three o’clock. I returned to the bar for another beer and hovered there, unsure whether to stay or go. I’d never been stood up before. Maybe Beck had got held up. Or maybe he’d changed his mind the same way I had.

I stayed just in case. I made my second drink last until almost four o’clock, holding my breath every time someone new entered the pub, and my spirits sinking a little more each time it wasn’t Beck. Eventually, I left my empty bottle on the nearby table and made my way up the steps and out into the humid air. The word pathetic came to mind when I thought about how I’d sat there alone for two hours when I’d clearly been stood up. I’d have laughed at anyone else doing that and called them a loser.

By the time I reached home I was fed up and angry with myself. It was probably for the best that Beck hadn’t shown up. I’d only been going to tell him it wasn’t going to happen, so he’d saved me the trouble. Except I’d still sat there for two hours, waiting and hoping.

Buy Links
Amazon USAmazon UKAll Romance eBooksSmashwords

About the Author

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy. Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of 8, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties.

Posting stories based on some of her favorite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a mad Dobermann, and a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races into the house afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and joy, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

Contact Louise WebsiteFacebook TwitterGoodreads

From Vicktor Alexander: I'm uber excited to welcome my dear friend Tempeste "Tempe" O'Riley here to share with you all the cover reveal for book 4 in her amazing Desires Entwined series: Signs of Desire! It's available for pre-order from DSP now, so make sure you head over and get it so you'll be ready for it's release on November 30th. And without further ado:




When a night out turns into a matchmaking scheme, they thought communication would be their biggest challenge to their happily ever after....
Signs of Desire 
by Tempeste O’Riley  
Desires Entwined , #4
 M/M Erotic Contemporary Romance 
 Publisher: Dreamspinner Press 
Cover Artist: Reese Dante 
Release Date: November 30, 2014 (ebook/print) 
Length: Novel / 200 pages 
PreOrder: ♥ ♥ ♥ Dreamspinner Press ♥ ♥ ♥ Add to: Goodreads
Simon Tyler knows his job as a gay romance author makes his lack of faith in love more than a little ironic, but he’s tired of being used for his wallet. When a night out turns into a matchmaking scheme orchestrated by his best friends—though he’s not the target—Simon’s not thrilled, but since he’s sworn off happily-ever-after anyway, he goes along with it… until he meets the object of their efforts, Adrian, and finds perhaps he hasn’t given up on love after all. Professor Adrian Keys has tried to date hearing men before, but being deaf himself, he’s never had any success at making a connection. After his friends con him into going out and Adrian realizes it’s all an elaborate plan to set him up, he braces for yet another failure, only to discover there is a spark—except it’s not with the man his friends had in mind, but with Simon Tyler instead. Not all their friends have found a way past their romantic failures, but Simon and Adrian might be on the path to happily-ever-after.


They all debated what to eat and chatted for a little, Adrian mostly staying quiet and watching the others. He noticed one of the other men seemed just as out of it as he was, the one Chase had called Grayson. He was handsome, tall, and powerful like Rhys, but he had long black hair, deeply tanned skin, and light brown eyes that were almost amber. He was a little thinner than Chase’s partner, though just as intimidating a presence.
The other man who caught his attention was named Simon. Adrian knew a little more about him because Chase spoke of his closest friends often, and Adrian loved meeting Chase’s friends even if the outing was nerve-racking. Simon had light brown hair, big puppy brown eyes, and a slender body. The longer Adrian looked, the more he wondered how Simon would look when dressed in something a little less bulky.
A tap to his shoulder pulled Adrian out of his musings. He turned and realized the server was back with their dinners and blushed at how entranced he’d been. He didn’t usually stare, hating when others did that to him. “Sorry.”
“No sorrys.” Chase hugged Adrian, then dug into his bowl of chicken and dumplings.
Simon waved to get Adrian’s attention and smiled when he looked up from his country-fried steak and mashed potatoes with white gravy. “Chase said you were his teacher before and are now a friend.” Adrian nodded. “How’d he convince you to go out with his skinny butt?”
Heat infused Adrian’s face as he laughed. “Chase was very sweet and asked nicely.”
“I love your laugh, by the way. It’s deep like your voice, kind of carefree.” Simon looked slightly sad. Adrian knew he’d had a hard time lately. Chase said he’d been cheated on a year ago and had refused to date since. Adrian knew the feeling, though he pushed the thought away, hoping not to dwell on why he was alone. He ducked his head slightly. “Thanks? I don’t know how anyone sounds, even myself, so it’s always weird to get comments like that.”
“I said the same when we went out,” Chase commented. “But don’t let him fool you. He’s an excellent teacher and speaks in all his classes. He knows his voice is good.”
“No, I know it’s clear enough for you to understand. That’s something I work hard to make true, but I have never heard my voice, so I have no idea how I sound. And well.... Chase was the first person to ever say something like that.”
He worked regularly with various computer programs to improve and maintain his speech, knowing if he didn’t it could cost him his position at the college. He had always struggled to make sure he spoke well for Hearing people, considering his family’s opinion of his Deafness. His dad knew sign
language, but his mom refused to learn, insisting he learn to be “normal.” Adrian had always thought that was extremely unfair, especially as a child. Considering his hatred of being dependent on others for his communication, he was thankful he could read lips and speak as well as he did.
“Then you know the wrong people, ’cause he’s right.” Simon nodded to emphasize his point, confusing Adrian more. Why would he be so determined with his compliments?
Shrugging off his curiosity, Adrian tried to push past the topic. “What do you do?”Simon’s eyes tightened at the edges slightly, his shoulders drooping a little more. “I’m a writer.”
 “He’s a romance author, and a damn good one,” Jamie, or James as he knew the guy’s actual name was, said. Chase talked about his best friend often, though this was the first they’d met. “Don’t let him talk down about what he does.”
“James, hush. He’s not interested in what kind of writing I do.”
“Yes, I am. I love to read. Would I know any of your work?” Adrian didn’t have a large collection of romances, but he had read some. He couldn’t think of any authors named Simon, though.
“You’re an author?” Grayson asked, turning to join their conversation.
The nod seemed reluctant, but the smile on Simon’s face, while small, looked genuine. “Yeah, I write under the name Tyler Jacobs, a pseudonym, but I have a few books out. But, um, I thought we were trying to get to know Adrian and Grayson, not more about boring ol’ me.”

   
“I found it a beautiful tale of unhappiness changed to romance and then love with a happy ending.”
—Rainbow Book Reviews, on “Designs of Desire” “Designs of Desire is a tough realistic book that is touched by violence countered by the growing love between the two heroes.”
—Sensual Reads, on “Designs of Desire” “It’s a great book to fall into and enjoy some really good characters.”
—Love Bytes, on “Desires’ Guardian” “This is my favorite in this series so far. I love seeing how these characters are growing, all of them. As individuals, as couples, as friends, and as a family.”
—MM Good Book Reviews, on “Desires’ Guardian” “The writer did an excellent job with the characters, they are likable and perfect. Not perfect in the way that they have no flaws, but in a way that they grab you and complement each other.”
—Love Bytes Reviews, on “Temptations of Desire”

Designs of Desire – Simple Desires*+ – Bound by Desire* – Desires’ Guardian – Temptations of Desire – Truth in Lace* – Desires’ Pride* Micah’s Medicine+ – Caged Sanctuary – Whiskers of a Chance *shorts in series +shorts in anthologies
Tempeste O’Riley is an out and proud pansexual genderfluid whose best friend growing up had the courage to do what they couldn’t—defy the hate and come out. He has been their hero ever since. Tempe is a hopeless romantic who loves strong relationships and happily-ever-afters. Though new to writing M/M, they has done many things in their life, yet writing has always drawn them back—no matter what else life has thrown their way. They counts her friends, family, and Muse as their greatest blessings in life. They lives in Wisconsin with their children, reading, writing, and enjoying life.Tempe is also a proud PAN member of Romance Writers of America®, WisRWA, and Rainbow Romance Writers. Tempe’s preferred pronouns are they/them/their/theirs/themselves. To learn more about Tempeste and their writing, visit http://tempesteoriley.com. Website ♥ Goodreads ♥ Twitter ♥ Facebook ♥ Google + ♥ DSP ♥ Blog

Hey Everyone!

So I'm so pleased and happy to have my dear friend, Grace R. Duncan over at The Purple Fantasy Den to share her cover reveal for Beautiful boy her upcoming release from Dreamspinner Press. Grace is a dear friend and I know what this book means to her. We spent much time speaking about it and it gives me much pleasure to welcome her here to introduce her "boys" to you.

So without further ado. Here's the cover for Beautiful boy !



Link @ Dreamspinner:  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=7068Beautiful boy
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, M/M
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover artist: Aaron Anderson
104,000 words
Release date: 11/20 If Kyle can get past his fears, he could see what his beloved Master Mal does: a beautiful boy that deserves his collar--and heart.
Blurb:Malcolm Tate hung up his flogger when his submissive sought out another Dom and landed in the hands of a serial killer. Convinced his lack of dominance sent his sub away, Mal has spent two years blaming himself for what happened. But when his best friend finally convinces him to go back to the local dungeon, Mal’s grateful. Especially when he wins beautiful, submissive, firmly-closeted Kyle Bingham in a charity slave auction.
College grad Kyle hasn’t earned enough to move out of the loft his conservative, homophobic parents bought, much less to buy any of the other things still in their name. When he’s won at auction by the hot, amazing Mal, he’s shocked that anyone would want him. No one else seemed to—not his parents, his former Doms, or any of his disastrous dates.
But Mal does want him and Kyle lets his guard down, only to be outed to his parents. With his world crashing down, he must find a way to trust Mal—and their developing relationship—or risk losing everything.
Author bio: Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination.  She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble.  Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States.  She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics.  She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.Find Grace here:Website  ◊ Facebook ◊ Twitter ◊ Youtube ◊ Goodreads

BDSM Blog Hop: Just Enough Knowledge To Be Dangerous





Hey ya’ll!

Man it’s been a while since I’ve posted to The Purple Fantasy Den, I know. I apologize, I have been lax. Blame it on the flying saucer internet. It won’t be for too much longer, I promise. But I’m very happy that I came out of my internet anal-probing (-snorts-) for the BDSM Blog Hop. I still remember when it began (last year-yes, I know I sound like an old man, just go with me here) it started off with an idea, someone read an article told someone else to read it, a conversation got started, it got shared on Facebook, people kept sharing, kept talking and before you knew it, a movement had begun.

Many of the most extraordinary moments in history have started off that way. Someone heard someone else share an opinion about another person’s lifestyle, beliefs, relationship, family, child… skin color, and didn’t think they had a right to feel that way, to express themselves in that manner, to act the way they had. To burn crosses. To beat up gay people or arrest them. To toss them into mental institutions.

To declare that those of us who indulge in the kinkier side of life are deviant or violent or serial killers, or unfit parents. That many of us have great communication skills and self-control and most of the relationships that have a BDSM foundation are extremely healthy.

Last year, I took you through guided tour of different parts of the BDSM world and many of you liked that. So much so that many of you wrote to me and shared stories, asked questions (asked me to be your Dom… you know who you are—yeah… you), asked about munches in your area and websites and even other books out there you could read. It was fantastic and really made me smile.

This year, I wanted to talk about something else, however, the two different sides of the BDSM coin. Those who are in the Lifestyle and those who know just enough to be dangerous.

This is going to be short and sweet so don’t worry, and it’s still going to have that Vic-charm too.

Now, one of the things I love most about people in the community is that for the most part we have no problem with people asking questions in order to learn more. We don’t want people attempting something and getting hurt, we don’t want them writing something incorrectly because then people try it and get hurt (-clears throat- The book that shall not be named –clears throat-), and we don’t want people assuming that anyone can do it. This isn’t QVC people. You can’t just buy the package as is, open it and instantly know what the fuck you’re doing. You need training. Everyone does. From the Doms down to the subs. Masters. Slaves. And everyone in between.

So I love that you can find someone, make contact with someone and say “I’m new to this, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing and I need someone to train me,” and they won’t laugh at you, they’ll just say “Okay, let’s help you out.” Even if you’ve been in the Lifestyle for years, decades, centuries… okay, maybe not centuries, because seriously? But, whatever, even if you’ve been in it for a long time, and something has changed, or you want to learn something new, or train in a different area (learn to use a whip, or if you’re a sub, train in service instead of just pain), then members of the community will do that for you.

There is an openness and a trust there that isn’t found in other communities, I’m sorry to say. I’ve had people in the BDSM community stand at my back and grab my arms (and this just happened last year) as if to demonstrate putting a rope around them and I trusted the person that was doing it because she was a member of the community. If it had been anyone else? They would have been knocked the fuck out, no questions asked.

So, when you are in the community and you have been trained you know certain things, you know terminology, you know body language, you know hand signals, etc. There are things inherent within us because we have been through that training. It isn’t something we lose or forget even if don’t do a scene for a while. Whether we are a sub or a Dom. A sub can read their Dom and vice versa. There are code words, visual cues even within the community. Granted, some of these change as the community is embraced and matures, as all things do and some are resistant, but you will find that there are some tenements that many of us will always hold true to (Safe, Sane, Consensual, or Risk, Aware, Consensual, Kink).

But we twitch (I growl) when we come across what I like to call the “Wikipedia-website experts”. The ones who get their knowledge from what they’ve learned from typing in “BDSM” online into the Google search engine.

"BDSM is a variety of erotic practices involving dominance and submission, roleplaying, bondage, and other interpersonal dynamics. Given the wide range of practices, some of which may be engaged in by people who do not consider themselves as practicing BDSM, inclusion in the BDSM community or subculture is usually dependent on self-identification and shared experience. Interest in BDSM can range from one-time experimentation to a lifestyle." (Wikipedia's definition of BDSM: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BDSM )

They tell us that we’re wrong about the very community and lifestyle we have been trained in because “Wikipedia states…” or “Merriam Webster defines BDSM as…” or “Dr. No-Name-Stick-Up-His-Ass says that those who indulge in BDSM are…” and then they caution us or they applaud us or they stare at us warily. Or perhaps they gawk at us. Maybe, they even try to tell us how to do it better because they read a book that they bought on Amazon that was published after The-Book-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named by someone who read the book and tried out some kink, enjoyed it, tried out a little more, and then wrote a book about it all and now the book’s selling like hotcakes.

Whatever the reason, this person knows just enough about BDSM to be dangerous. They know a lot of the terminology because Wikipedia wouldn’t be such a popular site if they didn’t get a lot of it right. They know about things like aftercare, and different floggers, cock-cages, ballgags, whips, hard-limits, soft-limits, negotiations, etc. Maybe they even know about the collaring-ceremony. They may have even found the BDSM Blog Hop and read some of the blogs and learned a lot that way, but while reading these things online and even in a book is great, there is no way you can try to tell someone who has gone through the training that you know better than them because you read something online about it.

There are bad seeds in every community. I've had countless conversations with people where I've had to point out to them that if you want to see the bad in a certain race, gender, sexuality, lifestyle, religion, age group, shape, etc. then you will. Granted, at the time this person was talking about black people, but the truth applies here too. The number of those who take things too far is miniscule to those who see BDSM for the beauty that it really is. And as my Granny always said, you can't let one bad apple spoil the bunch. So when you come across an article online, perhaps you read something and it causes you to jerk, or stop and you want to go to someone in the Lifestyle or even someone not in the Lifestyle or merely talk to someone about BDSM as if you have full-knowledge of everything.

WAIT! Before you do that. Stop. Breathe, Obi-Wan. Slow down Arya Stark, before you stick Needle into someone's neck, take a second to think and find someone who has training and present the information to them. Don't beat them over the head with it. You don't have to talk to them as if you know better.

However, you can ask them about it. As I said, we have no problem talking and answering questions, thus the reason for this blog hop, to give out information, to put names and "faces" to those with the knowledge and many of us with the training so you can come and ask us your burning queries. So asking something like “I read online that Doms are robots and don’t cry. Is that true?” Is totally fine. Instead of saying “You said your Dom cried? Well, he’s obviously not a real Dom, because I read online that Doms are robots and don’t cry at all.”

See the difference?

The assumption that what you read online about the community is what is true is not reality. Just recently, as a matter of fact, I was browsing Netflix and was stunned by the number of titles I heard that were BDSM-centric. I didn't know if this meant that we were being embraced or if every last movie was going to piss me off. Because I know myself (and really, I don't have the cash to replace electronics if I keep throwing them across the room in anger), I contacted a friend of mine and told him about the movies. He and his wife are both in the community so they watched them together. He called me back and said one word: "Run." LOL.

So, I encourage you to find someone in the Lifestyle and ask them your questions, they would be more than happy to answer them.

By the way, the question about Doms being robots? Not true at all. Doms are human and they are fully capable of crying. Believe me.



*I will be giving away one free copy of either any book from my backlist, a free copy of Daddy’s Boy when it releases on July 17th, or the first 3 books in the Mistakes series (Delicious Mistake is a BDSM story from Pride Publishing (aka Totally Bound Publishing) to one lucky person who comments.*




-Vicktor Alexander


  '); a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hey Everyone!

Just wanted to let you all know that all of the Vicktor Alexander Presents titles will be on sale at All Romance EBooks! The sale is all day tomorrow only April 15th.

This means that The Alpha's Beautiful Mate and St. Nick Luvs Kris Kringle will be 25% off tomorrow only!

Please take advantage of this offer while you can!



Kevin Stiles is a beautiful man. He's been told that his entire life. From his long black hair to his big, blue eyes and tight compact body, he's wanted by both women and men. And for the most part, he has used his looks to his advantage. He was a child model and now he's a supermodel. He has two homes and regularly takes luxury vacations. It is on one of these "mental health vacations" that Kevin finds out that the world he lives in is filled with more than just the pretty, and those who want to be pretty. There are things that go bump in the night, and Kevin discovers that when one of them, the biggest wolf he's ever seen in his life, attacks him on the beach of Barbados and bites him... hard.
Fitzgerald Beacham is the alpha of his pack. He's big, strong, and scary in both his wolf and human form. And though the scars on his face and body are intimidating in his shifter form, on his human face they're just... ugly. He knows that when he mates a female from the pack to continue the line, she'll be mating his power and position and not him and he's fine with that, until he scents his true mate on the beach.

Now Fitzgerald has to convince Kevin to stay with him in Barbados in spite of their rocky start because now that they've bonded he'll die without his mate... literally. And there's someone out there who knows that and is determined to use it to their advantage.

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When John Sneider accepts a job interview playing "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" at the Galleria Mall in Orlando, Florida he accepts that his life is over. He has hit rock bottom. He will never be an actor or a singer, and his best years as a studly gay man have passed. But when he finds himself actually in competition with another Santa Claus for the gig, well let's just say, John has lost his holiday spirit.

Charley Mullins just wants to make enough money to buy one very special present for one extremely important person. If that means he has to turn into a devious Kris Kringle and steal the job away from a talent-less, self-centered, gorgeous, asshole... then so be it. Charley would get the job as mall Santa at the Galleria. Even if he has to betray John to do so.

The men start off in a battle, fighting until the end. But when the role of Santa is finally announced, will St. Nick still luv Kris Kringle, or will the Christmas season end up with two men with Christmas stockings filled with coal?


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