Vicktor Alexander's Blog, page 36

Today's guest post for Vivianna Week is from Sammy Goode. The story that she shares is so touching and so amazing that I actually cried. So I hope you have some tissues handy. I think that I would have been honored to have Sammy as Vivianna's kindergarten teacher. Thank you for sharing this Sammy.

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Mary’s Story
I want to tell you a story…a story about the resilience of children…of how they can bear extraordinary pain and continue to love unconditionally. 
Before I begin this story I want you to know three things:  1) this is a completely true story.  I had the amazing privilege of being a part of this little girl’s life for one year, over 10 years ago and in all that time, she has never left my memory—never.  2) Her name has been changed—this “little” girl is now 16 and, while I am quite sure she would not mind her story being told, I have no way to contact her so we will respect her privacy by using a false name.  3) This is not a happy story in the classic sense, but rather a story of courage and strength and the amazing power of love.
I had been teaching kindergarten for 5 years in a large school in the suburbs of Washington D.C.  Unlike some towns, this one was poorer than most—a sort of black mark on the county.  I lived two towns away and am ashamed to admit that every time I crossed over the border of the town in question, I thanked god that I did not live there.   The town reeked of poverty, cried out with neglected and forgotten people, and screamed for someone, anyone to notice.  But this town also held some of the most precious children to ever grace the earth.  Mary was one of them.
Mary was tiny for her age.  As a five year old, she barely reached the middle of my thigh and she was painfully thin.  No matter what season, Mary always wore the same thing to school, a short sleeved shirt that was gray with age, a dark blue cardigan and a pair of jeans with patched holes in both knees.  On top of her neatly plaited hair sat a pink bow that had turned slightly gray with age.  On her feet Mary wore a pair of sneakers that were taped with silver duct tape to cover the holes. 
By spring of her kindergarten year, Mary’s grandmother would cut the tops of the shoes away, leaving a modified sandal—not to give Mary ventilation but so that her toes stopped hurting as the shoes were almost a full size too small, and Mary was not due for her new pair until August, right before the beginning of the next school year.   The only big thing on Mary were her feet—they spoke of a little girl that  should  have long, graceful ebony limbs, made strong and sinewy from good nutrition.   Should …but did not.
Every day Mary came to school and had free breakfast and free lunch.  These two meals were most assuredly the only meals Mary most days.  Mary’s grandmother worked the evening shift and left Mary in the care of a neighbor woman.  The woman often sat Mary in front of the television and went about her evening, having already eaten her evening meal.  Mary simply went without.  At 9:30 in the evening, the neighbor would take the spare key to the next-door apartment where Mary and her grandmother lived and let Mary in, watch her get ready for bed and say goodnight.  She would then lock Mary into the apartment and go next door to her own. 
At about 2am, Mary’s grandmother would come home from work to a sleeping Mary, who had been alone for over 4 hours.  Mary confided in me right before graduation that she often cried herself to sleep because she was so scared being alone.  Remembrance of those little confidences cause guilt and bile to rise up inside me to this day.  How did I not see…why did I not know? 
The answer is perhaps because of Mary herself.  You see every day Mary came to school smiling, happy.  She would come into my room after eating her breakfast in the cafeteria and run over to me and hug me and say, “Good Morning, Mrs. G., I love you!”  And ever morning I would smooth down her hair and fix her bow and stroke her thin shoulders and say, “Good Morning Mary, I love you too!”  We would then start the day with the other students and as the morning progressed I would feel myself smiling whenever I would hear Mary’s breathless laugh, or sweet little giggle.
So by now, I am sure you are wondering many things.  Perhaps you are asking where child services was or why I, as Mary’s teacher, did not intervene.  Why didn’t the school report the grandmother?  Why didn’t someone, anyone buy Mary a new pair of shoes for god’s sakes?  Or give her grandmother a bag of groceries?  Where were Mary’s parents and why in god’s name did this child have to suffer?
I wish I could tell you that I was Mary’s hero.  That I made sure she had all the things I mentioned above and then some.  I truly wish I could tell you that Mary’s life changed; that she did not continue to live in bone-crushing poverty.  Unfortunately, if I did tell you those things I would be telling you a lie and at the beginning of this story I promised you the truth…and so here it is.
Mary’s father was in a maximum-security prison in the state of Maryland for stabbing his wife to death as Mary watched.  It was Mary’s grandmother—the same grandmother who left Mary each day rather than turn her over to social services where she most assuredly would have become a shell of the child she was, that stayed her son’s hand before he plunged that same kitchen knife into his own chest. 
They lived on less that $350 dollars a month and, while bone thin and small for her age, Mary went to the dentist every 6 months, was up to date on all her shots, and came to school clean and alert every day—this is what her grandmother could do for Mary and she did it fiercely, loyally, without hesitation.  Mary may have had less than pristine clothes because her grandmother could not afford a washing machine and hand washed their clothing, but Mary had good sturdy clean clothing…and believe it or not…Mary was content with that.
You see, the one thing that Mary and her grandmother did have which trumped all else was love.  Mountains of it…rivers of it…endless miles and miles of it.  From the raw and devastating hurt of a life lived on the edge of an abyss, they made a small island that was all theirs.  The love that shined in Mary’s eyes was there because even though she lay alone for those 4 hours each night she knew—she knew with a certainty beyond reason that at 2am her grandmother would come home and crawl into bed with her, and pull her close, kiss her gently and keep her safe the rest of the night.
Here is the real truth to this story, dear friends.  It is not what we own, or where we live, or how we dress that makes a home…no…it is the love that permeates every corner of our lives.  Love that wraps us up in it’s tender embrace and says, I will stand here between you and the world tonight and you will be safe…you will be loved…you will be my home and I will be yours. 
Every weekday morning, Mary’s grandmother would get up and walk Mary to school.  Two days a week, every week of the school year, I had front door greeting duty and morning breakfast monitoring.  I shared these duties with other staff members.  I remember remarking to a colleague about overhearing Mary’s morning ritual with her grandmother.  That teacher said she heard the exact same thing when it was her turn to man the door.  So I can tell you with certainty that when Mary and her grandmother reached the front door to our school they said the same farewell to each other every day…this is what they said:
“Mary, be a good girl today, learn everything you can and help your teacher.”
“Yes, Nana.”
“Remember Mary,”
“I’m your sunshine.”
“Yes, girl you surely are.”

Dear, dear friends, that is love…pure and simple, yet profound and lasting.

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Today's guest post for Vivianna Week, comes from my bestie and fellow author of  Being Human, Patricia Lynne . It's a really sweet story and such a beautiful dedication to her sister Katy and her nephew Arik. Enjoy!


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I am not a maternal person. I think I was born without the ability. Plenty of people have told me time and time again, “That will change. Just wait.” And I’m still waiting. If anything, I think my urge to have kids of my own has shrunk. Of course, I’m not completely anti-kid. I have to amazing nephews with an equally amazing mom.

My big sister I seriously think needs the Mom of the Century, no of Time award. Like me, when she was younger, she didn’t want kids. They were the farthest from her mind. Then Emmet came along. He is one firecracker of a kid. His antics are just priceless. For Halloween, he dressed up as Billy the Exterminator. Seriously, how many kids do that? They want to be Superman or Spiderman. My sister takes it all in stride – after leaving the room to laugh her ass off.

But what really earns my sister the Mom of all Time award is her second son, Arik. In the womb, we knew Arik was going to pop out special. He had a cleft lip and palate and there was no knowing how bad it would be until he was born. And when he was born, it was a shock. He barely had an upper lip and the gap in his palate went all the way to his nasal cavity. And it didn’t just end there. He has a laundry list of issues, a ton of doctors he sees, and multiple surgeries planned in the future. It’s rough on my sister and her husband, and big brother, Emmet, doesn’t always help since he’s only six and doesn’t know better. Despite all that, it’s pictures like this [image error] that shows how much all those medical problems and doctors appointment don’t matter to my sister. She’ll do it all, and on two hours of sleep, because her face says it all. I love my baby.

Unconditionally.



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About Patricia Lynne in Her Own Words:







A Story About Me



I am a born and raised Michigander and transplant yooper - that means I can hold my hands up and point to where I live in the upper peninsula of Michigan. My whole life I was always creative. I remember wanting to be a dancer when I was little. In middle school, my love for art started when I did a report on Pablo Picasso. I was also in band all of middle school and high school. My mom told me I couldn't quit because every year the senior band members went to Toronto Canada to see an musical and SHE WANTED TO GO. Which she did and honestly, I didn't mind. Having Mom chaperon meant I had a bank account with me the whole trip. Remember that kids, don't be ashamed to let your parents come on a field trip because all you have to do is hold out your hand when you see something you want.

I went to college at Grand Valley State for a grand total of 1.5 years. My major was art, naturally, but I didn't see where an art degree would take me and I wasn't really enjoying the work part so I dropped out. Please, no But you could have been an art teacher. I have the maternal instincts of a rock. In fact, a rock has MORE maternal instincts than I do. College wasn't a wasted experience though, I did learn a ton in my classes and I met my hubby in an anime chat room. DragonBall Z to be exact. I can be a big anime geek.

I moved back home and worked in a small restaurant called Weber's Rustic Inn. There I learned I loved to cook and arranging the food in a pleasing way was so much fun - even in the middle of a dinner rush. Between it all I started making jewelry and knitting. Eventually, I got a business license and opened a small store online called Patricia Lynne's Treasures. My hubby moved all the way from Mississippi to Michigan and enrolled in nearby Bay de Noc Community College. You should know in the UP of MI nearby means less than 200 miles. We moved in with a friend of his and when he transferred to Lake State Superior University we moved across the state. I eventually got a job in a small deli/coffee/bakery. It was the perfect job. I love baking but not necessarily eating what I made. I got to flex my creative muscles via sugar cookies -a love/hate job. April 1st 2011 we got married, the wedding, while impromptu and VERY informal, was a blast.

I don't remember when exactly it happened; maybe while my hubby was at Bay do Noc. I had a dream one night (and I always feel like I'm ripping off Stephenie Meyers when I say this but it's the truth) and in it there was this girl and a vampire, and the cast of True Blood was trying to keep them apart. I woke with the urge to write it - although not the True Blood part. So I did. As I went, I wasn't quite sure where it was going but that didn't deter me. I kept typing along and eventually I figured out who wanted to keep Kris and Kristen apart. After that another story came to me. Then another. And another. I couldn't stop and before I knew it I had a file for writing filled with stories - not all of them finished.

I've been writing ever since. The characters in my head fight for attention and sometimes I wish I had more hands and a few computers to type it all down. In November of 2010 decided to pursue publishing my stories.



Patty's Facebook
Patty's Twitter
Blog

Website
Patty's Jewelry Website

And my contribution for Vivianna Week is the cover for Vivianna's Daddy, the novella that I've written and dedicated to my daughter. 10% of the profits will be contributed in Vivianna's honor to: Our Family Coalition: http://www.ourfamily.org/about/mission_and_history.
(Mission Statement

Our Family Coalition promotes the equality and well-being of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer families with children. We foster community leadership in advocacy efforts that promote social justice.

History

Our Family Coalition was formed through the 2002 merger of two organizations serving lesbian, gay, bisexual and/or transgender families – the Berkeley-based Our Family and San Francisco-based All Our Families Coalition (AOFC). Our Family was founded in 1994 by a group of East Bay lesbian and gay parents with infants as a social/educational organization for LGBTQ families. AOFC was formed in 1996 by and for LGBT families to both provide families with services and referrals that addressed their needs and helped them support each other and to build the resources and structures that enabled LGBT families to advocate for themselves in their communities. Since 2002 we have grown to over 700 member families, with many more participating in our activities and employing our services.

Today Our Family Coalition provides a variety of vehicles for LGBTQ families with children to engage effectively in public education and advocacy efforts that challenge the bias and discrimination that affects them. We aim to reach a diverse grassroots base of LGBT families where they are and engage them in challenging the many societal barriers they face.)



Here's the blurb for  Vivianna's Daddy:


Growing up the only thing that Matthew "Matty" Bailey wanted more than his very own Prince Charming was a child of his own. When his best friend Keysha devises a way for him to fulfill at least part of his lifelong dream, Matthew is beyond excited to finally be a daddy. However, the reality of parenting is a lot harder, and way more exhausting, than he'd ever expected.

Praying to a god that he'd stopped talking to the day that he came out of the closet, Matthew asks for help taking care of his daughter, Vivianna. Opening the door, Matthew is shocked to find gorgeous part-time handyman, Christopher Hall, standing on his doorstep, telling him that he's there to help Matthew. Too surprised to do anything but squeak, Matthew lets him in.

What begins as help with household duties, turns into so much more as the two men find out that the depth of their love for Vivianna merely sets the stage for the power of their love for each other.


And here's the cover:
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Today's post for Vivianna Week is a guest post by my friend, and fellow author, Lor Rose. It's extremely hilarious, so be forewarned. In honor of Vivianna Week I decided to write a little tid bit of one of my birthdays when I was little.This was my sixth or seventh, to be honest I can’t really remember BUT I do remember that no matter the party, I had the best most over the top ones of any child in the entire neighborhood. This particular party was one of the better ones taking place in my Meme’s one acre backyard. My cousin brought her horse for “pony rides” even though the horse was no pony by any means. I petting zoo with various lovable kritters came soon after along with a clown. Now up until this point in life I had no problem whatsoever with clowns.This is my tale of why clowns suck.
The clown (who wore a hideous yellow jumper with varying patters that would cause a seizer in certain children, the standard big red shoes, a purple curly haired wig, and of course the icing layer of frosting make up with a fake smile) owned the petting zoo. Two for one special yes?Anywhoop to make a long story short the party as usual was a complete success. Over the course of this lovely affair I fell in love with a black baby pot bellied big. I forget the name now but I remember at the time I thought it very cool.Petting the big in the clown’s arms I remember turning as my mother called the magic words over the party goers “Cake time!” now as you know cake to any young one is something close to magical.Something or rather happened (I’m not exactly sure what) but whatever it was the pig didn’t like it. Squealing as if being slaughtered the baby pot belly hops from the clown’s arms taking off for the driveway.This clown covered in more frosting make up than my cake surges up screaming at the top of her lungs for her beloved pig. This was very frightening when not expected especially for the birthday girl.Well needless to say the entire party marshaled together in utter chaos to try and capture this little kritter known as the pot bellied pig. The poor scared kritter veers straight for my poor defenseless mother holding my lovely cake.Do you see where this is going?With a screech and twist my cake went up, up, up! It was really very comical just like you’d see in the movies of people slipping and the cake goes flying.Of course following the movie script the cake lands on my poor defenseless mother. The whole party stops in mid-motion to open mouth stare at what just happened. The poor pig completely forgotten by all except the clown who almost ran me over with her overly large red shoes.The clown frantically searches for her beloved pig but to no avail while the rest of us stare fixedly at my poor mother covered in vanilla cake. I remember thinking I don’t like vanilla cake. Typical child, no?The clown once again screeches for her pig. A cake covered arms points down and there munching on my cake was the baby black pot bellied pig. My cousins horse likewise paid little mind munching on her grass. The petting zoo kritters in the pen seemed to think my cousin’s horse set a good example.They ate.We stared.“Can someone please get this shit off me and get me a fucking towel?”A lot less of my friends came to my birthdays after that.



About Me
Lor RoseI am an author. What I write: everything. I'm most fond of writing GBLT. If you don't know what that is. Look it up. I have very little shame & I am known as #TheGutterQueen to my circle on twitter. I am also bisexual and a Switch. Have a problem? I don't care. Love me or hate me. It's up to you. I warn you though. You just might love me.Lor's Indigo LodgeThe Lor of Rose Twitter Facebook

I know that people feel different things about Thomas Kinkade. Some don't like him because all of his paintings were symbols of his religion and his belief in Jesus Christ, some love his paintings because of how they made them feel.

I would be the latter.

Seeing a Thomas Kinkade painting always fills me with peace and happiness and light.

It makes me want to write.

Yeah, even naughty, smexy, man-on-man stories, because that's what I write.

Regardless, his passing made me sad because I'd always hoped to one day be famous enough or make enough money that he would paint me in front of a lighthouse.

I collect lighthouses, btw. Did I ever tell you all that? I do.

So I love Thomas Kinkade's paintings.

Rest in peace Thomas Kinkade (the images below are collected from The Thomas Kinkade Official Website)

Here is your Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday post from my (unedited) WIP (inspired by Cherie Noel and Dr. Porne) entitled: The Marriage Groups, Book One: Elian
Blurb:Elian Glinkobia is the youngest son of his family. Born on the planet, Kardalusia, he is the only breeder, the only coração, born to a family full of Kartusian warriors and soldiers. He was born with no other purpose than to be the coração of a marriage group, there to serve them in every manner that they needed. Or so he thinks. Attending his final marriage soiree, Elian believes that he will not be picked by any marriage group and is destined to live his life alone, or as a prostitute. He is beyond shocked to find out that he was chosen by the royal marriage group the year before. He is to be the coração, the heart, of the three kings, Nevin, Corbin, and Gaige.However, things are not always as easy as they seem. Before Elian can even settle into his position as The Royal Coração, someone attempts to murder him. Placed under lock and key in the palace by his husbands, Elian begins to discover that the gods of the Kartusians, gifted him with a lot more than he could have ever expected.Will Elian's special gifts come in handy when he needs them to save his husbands and their people, or was everyone right about his worthlessness?
ExcerptElian looked around the room and gritted his teeth against the moan that threatened to pour forth from his lips. It seemed as if he'd walked into every gay man's fantasy. A room filled with sexy, muscled men, all looking for commitment. Elian should feel a little out of place. He was only 5'5", the only black guy in the room and the only big muscle that he had was the one in his pants. He couldn't believe how many men were there. His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed thickly in order to stop the drool from escaping his lips and spilling down his chin. He wanted to scream out that he was there, ready for someone, anyone, from one of the marriage groups to pick him, choose him, but from the group of fifteen unattached, marriageable men, it was only him and four of his friends left and he was the only one standing by himself.He sighed in despair. His parents would be livid if he came home tonight. He was supposed to be chosen and married today. He was supposed to be grabbing his luggage from his room and going off with the three other men who would make up his marriage group. He was eighteen years old. Almost nineteen. And this was his fourth and final marriage soiree. If he wasn't chosen tonight, he'd be forced into servitude, spinsterhood, or making his living as a prostitute. His fathers were already deeply upset with him because he'd been passed over three other times. Especially since he was the only one of their children not born as a soldier or a warrior or even as a doctor. Elian had been born as a breeder. That was it. His sole purpose in life was to lay on his back, his side, on his hands and knees and be fucked all day and night and give birth to more of the Kartusians.He hadn't asked to be born as a breeder. Hell, he hadn't asked to be born into his family or as a Kartusian. It was a fucking luck of the draw. One that he was being punished for.Looking around the room again, he sighed in despair. All the time that he'd spent gazing into nothingness and daydreaming and no one had approached him. What was wrong with him? Why hadn't he been picked yet? He realized that all of his friends had been chosen and there were still four marriage groups left, none of which were even looking at him. Perhaps his dads had been wrong. Maybe he was a little too reminiscent of the females of their species that had died off over ten millenia before. Elian was aware that he was a lot smaller, thinner, his skin was a lot softer and his facial features a lot more pretty than any other Kartusian male in history. But once again, it was not his fault. It wasn't as if he'd consulted with and pleaded for the God Alusia to make him this way. He hadn't. Not at all.At least, not that he knew of."So, why are you still here? I would have thought that you'd be off packing your bags, ready to leave with your marriage group," the waiter standing next to him said as he placed his tray on the counter behind Elian.Startled, Elian turned with a gasp to look up at the other man. The waiter was gorgeous. He stood about 6'1" and had the most gorgeous pale green eyes that Elian had ever seen on a Kartusian before. So lost was he in the beauty of the man before him, that it took him a while to process exactly what he'd said."My what? I don't have a marriage group," Elian stated, hearing the sadness in his own voice. He glanced up at the clock, aware that in less than fifteen minutes the soiree would be over and he would once again be left alone. Though this time he would be alone and destitute.The waiter looked confusedly down at him before pulling a picture out of his inner pocket. Showing the picture to him, Elian was amazed to see a picture of him from a year before."Isn't this you?" the waiter asked.Elian nodded before he responded. "Y-y-yes."Why the hell did the waiter have a picture of him from a year before? A picture that looked as if it were taken of Elian when he was unaware that he was being photographed. It looked like it was a picture of Elian walking to class, which was just...strange, who would want a picture of him, walking to class?"Where the hell did you get this picture?" he asked the waiter, hoping that his voice didn't sound as shaky and fearful as his insides felt."Why the new kings passed it out at the beginning of the soiree, letting everyone know that you were a part of their marriage group and were not to be approached with an offer," the waiter said as if that explained everything.It explained nothing,  however. Why the hell would the kings want him to be a part of their marriage group? And if that were true then where the hell were they?As if his thoughts had conjured them, Elian gasped at the sight of the three kings, easily the tallest, broadest, strongest men in all of Kardalusia, walking through the door. As one they all turned towards him and made their way in his direction. Elian felt frozen in place. His eyes took in each of the three men. Nevin Cannington, the eldest of the three kings, the direct descendant of the previous kings, stood at 6' 9", had black hair that was trimmed close at the nape and sides, tapered to a slightly longer length on top, that rested at his ears, with gorgeous hazel brown eyes, had the widest grin on his face. He was dressed in a white royal suit, trimmed with gold embroidery, with a gold button up shirt underneath. His skin, which was deliciously tanned called to Elian and he found himself clenching his hands in order to prevent himself from reaching out to the older man who was at the very least, twenty years his senior. Corbin Dyer-Cannington, stood at 6'8", just slightly shorter than Nevin, his brown hair hung in thick, luxurious waves to his shoulders, begging for Elian to run his slim fingers through them, while he too had hazel brown eyes, there seemed to be a spark of gold that flared in their depths when he looked at Elian. He was dressed in a white suit as well, though his was trimmed with blue embroidery and clung to his extremely muscled frame, though he wore no shirt beneath the suit, giving Elian a clear view of the tattoos that the other man had obtained during his training on Zarxion. Elian felt his cock thicken behind the slacks of his own black tuxedo pants, feeling a bit like a hobo next to the kings, his long black hair, that hung in black waves to his waist, suddenly feeling a lot heavier than it had just moments before. It was the sight of Gaige Nobriga-Cannington, however, the only king with a naturally caramel skin tone, that robbed Elian of his breath. Gaige's 6'6", thickly muscled frame screamed out danger to anyone who looked at him. His blond hair invited the curious to touch it, with its gloriously golden highlights and waves, it fell to just below Gaige's shoulders. It was the sight of the scar on Gaige's cheek that caused one to rethink their approach to him, however.Elian had heard the story of the third king. Heard that he had "the sight", that Gaige could see into the future. It fascinated him. Gaige was most assuredly a man who played by his own rules, dressed in a white suit, as was customary of royalty, he wore a red shirt beneath a black leather vest, underneath his suit jacket. On Gaige's right wrist Elian saw a leather bracelet with diamond studs embedded within and a tattoo of a snake that wrapped itself around his left one. He felt himself shiver as the three kings all stopped before him, surrounding him in a semi-circle and he was distantly aware that every man in the room had knelt on one knee, showing honor to the monarchy. He knew that he should bow to his kings, that he should probably lay prostrate before them, but all he could do in that moment, was stare at them.And hope he didn't embarrass himself by begging them all to fuck him."You are ours Elian Glinkobia. Gather your belongings, you are now the coração of our marriage group," King Nevin stated.

Here is your Man-oh-Man Monday post entitled My College Roommate, not sure if it's going to be an actual book or not, but we'll see.And the picture:My College RoommateNeil walked into the room and stared at me. I could tell by the hesitant look on his face that there was something that he wanted to say, but for whatever reason, he wasn't saying it. I lifted my eyebrow at him and smirked."You got sumtin' you need to say white boy?" I asked with the best imitation of a "hood boy" that I could come up with.Neil choked out a laugh and shook his head at me."Give it up Emanuel, you will never be able to convince me that you are black. No matter how much you try," he teased me.It had been a longstanding joke between the two of us. Neil was Native American, though he knew next to nothing about his tribe, and I was African American, though I didn't fit into the stereotype of being one. Neil was actually much more...ethnic, than I could ever hope to be and I knew more about Native American history and culture than he did. We complemented each other perfectly. Making up what the other one lacked in his own culture, but our relationship was strictly platonic. Even though we were both gay.I'd met Neil my very first day at Berkeley College. He'd been standing outside of our dorm room, reading my name out loud, over and over, as if he were completely confused. I'd walked up behind him and started saying his name over and over again. When he'd turned to look at me, I felt as if someone had punched me right in the gut. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds, the air caught in my lungs and my cock got so hard that if anyone had touched it, it would have broken away from my body and crashed to the floor in a million pieces. Neil is fucking hot. With his tan skin and blue black hair, his wide grin and piercing dark brown eyes, I swear that I fell in love with him the very first time he looked at me.I haven't stopped loving him.The problem is, Neil is learning about his heritage. He's gone a spirit walk and has begun talking to a shaman about his soul's mate. I'm pretty sure that his soulmate isn't going to be some too-thin, nerdy black boy from Oakland. No matter how much I want it to be so. Besides, Neil didn't find me attractive. Me, the one guy who spent most of his classes fending off the advances of some guy who was in the closet, just came out of the closet, or never knew that the closet ever existed, was not attractive to Neil. The one man that I actually wanted to be attractive to. Neil, the man who'd sleep with any man as long as he had a pulse and a cock...even if the cock lay in their bottom drawer. I didn't know why Neil didn't find me attractive. I didn't know what I'd have to do to get him to see me as being attractive, but whatever it was, I'd probably already tried doing it. Now, three years after we met for the first time, looking ahead to our senior year, and living in the upper classmen co-ed dorms, I'd finally made the hardest decision of my life and decided to stop pursuing Neil. I'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't going to happen and that I needed to move on.No matter how hard that was going to be.Giving myself a mental shake, I returned to the present and grinned up at Neil when he paused beside my bed."Seriously. You look like you need to say something Neil, or ask me something," I stated soberly, hoping that he would open up to me. Neil was my best friend and the thought of him hurting or needing something and not being able to tell me was like a punch to my guy. I swallowed thickly when Neil glanced down at me, his eyes darkening with some unexpressed emotion that I'd never seen in his eyes before. Was he angry with me? Was he hurting? What was wrong with him?Sitting up and climbing up on my knees, I pulled Neil onto the bed with me, ignoring my rampant erection that screamed at me that we finally had Neil exactly where we wanted him."Neil? What's wrong?" I asked.Neil shook his head. He looked up at me through his thick lashes and I felt my breath catch in my chest again. I'd really never seenthat look before, Neil looked at me like he was hungry...for me. Like he wanted to...eat me or something. But eat me in a very delicious, very satisfying way...satisfying for the both of us."Nothing's wrong Emanuel. It's just that...Well...when you were taking a shower earlier, I sort of...you know," Neil hedged, shrugging his shoulders shyly and while the look was absurdly cute on him, I couldn't figure out for the life of me why he was looking that way."You sort of what? Neil?" I asked him, trying to push him to open up and to tell me more.I watched in fascination as my best friend's face flushed red in embarrassment and I felt my new resolve to get over Neil crumble at my feet. Why in God's name did he have to be so fucking gorgeous? I mean, I would think that in order to balance everything out, that if the Creator made him physically beautiful that He would ensure that Neil had the personality of a troll or a toad, but noooo Neil was both physically perfect and a really nice guy at the same time."Isawyounaked," Neil said quickly, the words all running together.It took me a while to decipher what he'd said but once I figured it out, I felt the cheeks of my own face burning and I knew that I was blushing too."Oh, sorry about that," I apologized, not able to look at Neil when I said it."Nothing for you to be sorry for," Neil assured me before clearing his throat. "The only thing is...well, I guess it was a little bit of a shock. I mean I know that we tease all the time, about you not being black and me being a white guy instead of Navajo Indian, but the thing is you are black and I am Navajo. So when I saw you naked, I just...I..." Neil blushed again.I chuckled. Neil wouldn't be the first one to mention this to me. People seemed to have an almost unrealistic opinion that all black men walked around with 13 inch cocks that were as wide as soda cans. First of all, there were some who were built like that, but not all black men. A lot of black men were more generously well-endowed than others, but that could be said for white men, Hispanic men, Native Americans, Asians, etc. And while I was by no means a peanut or a shrimp in the "Black Man Dick Department" or the BMDD, I didn't have a cock that hung down to my knees like some other friends of mine."You didn't expect me to be thin and only sporting a 7 inch dick huh?" I laughed at my friend's bemused expression then shrugged. "Eh, it's nothing to write home about, that's for damn sure, but it does get the job done when I need it to. I think the biggest problem is that it's not as pretty as some other cocks that I've seen, although my ex boyfriend Dontae seemed to think that it's gorgeous.""Well, let me see and I'll give you an honest opinion," Neil offered and my mouth dropped open as my brain short-circuited. Did Neil just ask to see my dick? No! Of course not! He couldn't have. Neil didn't find me attractive, so he would have no interest whatsoever in seeing my cock."Wha-huh?" I asked stupidly.I watched as Neil slowly stalked me across the bed his hand reaching out to grab the front of my blue checkered boxers as I tried to back away from him."I said, let me see your dick," Neil said, his voice filled with amusement and...lust?"Why would you want to see my dick?" I asked, ignoring said dick when it shouted at me to shut up, that we were in the middle of a fucking real life porno."Because I want to see if it's really as gorgeous as your ex-boyfriend Dontae made it seem, plus I want to see if it tastes as good as he said as well," Neil pointed out.I was so stunned that I leaned back on one hand, stretching out my hand to grab Neil's shoulder as he pulled back the front of my boxers and looked inside. I gasped as he chuckled low in his throat."Oh, it's beautiful. I can't wait to wrap my lips around that," Neil stated before leaning over fully and doing just that. I keened loudly in my throat and felt the telltale shiver at the base of my spine as my best friend, the one man I thought didn't find me attractive, deep-throated my cock. It was like getting my first blowjob all over again and I couldn't last before I grabbed the back of his head with both of my hands and fucked his face quickly and with short, hard thrusts before shooting my sperm down his throat."OH SHIT! NEIL! HOLY FUCKING CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" I screamed out to the heavens, thanking every deity that I knew for this wonderful opportunity.When I finally came back down to Earth, Neil was holding me in his arms, my head on his chest, as he rubbed my back with his hand with gentle strokes."Welcome back," he chuckled."Smart ass," I said back. The room got quiet as we both thought about what had happened, mulled over words that needed to be said. I knew that I wanted Neil. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath, but did he feel the same way? And if he did, did he want me enough to be with me forever, even if it meant giving up his quest to find his soulmate? And what would I do if he only wanted to be with me until he met his soulmate? Would I be okay with taking whatever time he could give me until he left my life for good? Just how much did I love him and how much did he love me, if he loved me at all?

Here is a Sunday Sneak Peek & Sunday Snog all rolled into one for you from my WIP, The Trapezians, Book One: Preston's TeamMates
Blurb:Like all Trapezians, Preston Alnitak was sent down to Earth at the age of 12 to find his mate by the end of his 21st year. Knowing how gorgeous their children are, Preston's parents gave him no training, no advice and no direction. It was not something they felt was needed. However, Preston only has a few months before the end of his 21st year and if he doesn't find his mates, all four of them, he will die. Though he feels the life-or-death pressure, Preston is still hopeful that he will find all of his mates in time.And he does, at a NFL football game. All four of his mates are professional football players, all of them are gay (thank the gods) and all of them want to be mated to him. There's only one problem. None of them want to share, and if they can't learn how to be mated to each other and share Preston then the mating can't be completed and Preston will die anyway. So now, Preston has to find a way to help his mates accept each other before his time is up.But things aren't as easy as his parents made them sound, because before Preston and his mates can fully complete their bond they'll have to deal with a natural disaster, an unexpected visit from Preston's family, a conspiracy from light years away on the planet Oronebuli, and a very unexpected medical occurrence with Preston that none of the mates are completely ready for. Will these five men be able to complete their bond before Preston dies or will they be too late?
Sneak Peek & SnogPreston stood in the middle of the spontaneous circled and narrowed his eyes in angry frustration. He was beyond sick of this. He wanted to be with his mates. All of his mates. All at the same time, but if they couldn't get over their petty jealousy and selfishness and learn to share him, realizing that there was enough of him to go around, then he would die anyway, regardless of the fact that he'd claimed them all and allowed them to claim him. They had to claim each other for the bond to be complete.With a snarl, he launched himself at Owen, knowing that out of the four of them, Owen was more likely to stop arguing and start kissing.Mashing his lips down, in an almost punishing manner, Preston moaned at the taste of the big, burly, black man. A shiver of delicious anticipation raced up his spine as the taste of his mate washed over his tongue, the same moment he heard groans from the other three mates.Lost in a haze of red hot lust and feeling the delicious stirrings of love in his gut, Preston was distantly aware of the feeling of hands and lips on his back, the side of his face, and his ass, as he continued to make out with Owen. Pulling his lips from Owen, he turned his head blindly to the left and felt his lips being captured by another mate. As the taste of melted caramel swamped his senses, he realized that he was kissing Pete and moaned. No one could kiss like Pete. Kissing Pete was like dancing the world's most seductive tango. It was all tongue and lips, no teeth at all, but Preston always felt the kiss down to his toes and this time was no exception.He wasn't satisfied though, he wanted more. Turning his head to the right, he gasped as he felt his shirt being torn from his body, while a tongue simultaneously thrust into his mouth. He felt his cock throb behind the zipper of his beige slacks as he kissed Giovanni. Mmmmm. His delicious Italian. He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky to have the mates that he had, all of them delicious and passionate, all strong enough to protect him. He was blessed.He was horny as fuck.Wrenching his lips away from Giovanni, realizing that he'd been humping Owen's stomach, Preston turned forward to kiss Mitchell only to see that Mitchell and Owen were engaged in the world's sexiest, hottest, most lust-inducing swirl kiss known to man. Preston could cum just from watching the two of them. Between Mitchell's larger than life frame, making Owen look almost fragile, and Owen's pillow soft, plump lips, watching them kiss was an automatic boner just waiting to happen.Unwilling to be left out, Preston leaned forward and shared in a three way kiss to end all three way kisses.Take that Graham, he mentally hissed at his oldest friend.As the three of them ended their kiss, Preston could smell the rich, cloying scent of arousal hanging thick in the room.He looked at Owen then at Mitchell with a grin, "I want the both of you to fuck me, at the same time. I believe you humans call this double penetration." His grin broadened when the two men groaned happily, before kissing again. He turned to look at Giovanni, "I want to suck your cock," he said with a smile, knowing how much the other man loved it, before turning to look at Pete. "And I want you to fuck Owen, make sure you get him ready first. He loves to have his ass rimmed, just so you know." He knew that he'd made the right decision when both Pete and Owen shivered simultaneously.Oh yeah, he'd so been blessed with his mates and he was glad that they'd finally realized how bless they were to be mated with each other."So, whose got the lube?" Mitchell asked with a grin.

Sorry I've been MIA for the past few days, I have the emotional flu so I'm limiting my time online, but I did want to share this Saturday Snark with you from my WIP (M/M Supernatural Romance) Raising Shawna.


Raising Shawna
Shane turned to glare at Tucker, his left hand holding onto thin shoulders of Shawna who stood still, her small frame still shuddering as she cried. How dare this man try to tell him what was wrong with his daughter...his son...his brother."You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," he growled angrily, distantly aware of Shawna turning to hold his hand tightly."Mr. Ocenna, it's quite normal for parents to deny the possibility that their child is less than perfect, that they may have some sort of mental disorder or a genetic mistake..." Tucker responded before Shane interrupted him."A genetic mistake? Genetic? There is nothing mistaken about Shawna, Dr. Ames," Shane gritted out, white hot anger enflaming his senses, his mind swirling with vengeful thoughts, "Shawna is perfect. Just because her outside doesn't match the inside doesn't mean that there is some sort of genetic mistake. I know what's wrong with Shawna. Bigoted idiots like you who try to tell her that on the days that she feels like a girl, she's sane and on the days she feels like a boy, that she's having a mental break." Shane stepped closer to the doctor, feeling a jolt of lustful awareness zing through his nostrils and slam into his groin at the musky smell of the other man's cologne. Now was so not the time to find the doctor sexy. "Well let me tell you something. Shawna is still a person. There are no mental disorders or genetic mistakes. This is who Shawna is. Deal with it."And with that Shane turned and lifted the young girl up into his arms before turning to walk away. He got down the hallway before he heard a soft voice, the voice of his brother Shawn, coming out of the mouth of this little girl who he was determined to protect."Thanks bro."

Michael Prosace…oops, Michael Lourge-Marshall, affectionately called "M&M" by the other mates, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for my Wacky Writer Wednesday post and I must tell you, I thought that his appearance today was very…kismet.When Michael first showed up, he was about fifteen minutes late and he came in with his youngest daughter Valerie on his hip and HJ (Howell Jr) walking next to him, holding his hand. I didn't really know how to respond to that. I mean who brings kids to an interview? But, since I love kids, I merely smiled at them, handed them some paper and a few pens and invited Michael to sit across from me in the Purple Fantasy Den so that our interview could begin. I'd asked Howell to come and sign for me since Michael is deaf but at the last minute he'd been unable to do so. So I called on a dear friend of mine who knows sign language and she agreed to do the signing for me instead.
Vicktor: So Michael, tell me, how's your relationship going with Howell?Michael: It's going great. I was so in love with him when we were kids, or at least as much as someone can be in love at that age and I'm so glad that even as kids we knew we were meant to be together. Being together now just makes things so much better.Vicktor: It hasn't always been great though right? You guys just recently had a huge fight and you took off with Maurice and then-Michael: (jumping up from his seat to cover my mouth and signing frantically) That's in the Tate Pack Anthology that's coming out soon. Are you sure you want to continue that question and give away what happened?Vicktor: OH! Yeah, you're right. Good looking out Mike.Michael: It's Michael. And by the way, when are you going to put out that anthology? We've been waiting patiently. Very patiently I think.Vicktor: Ohhhhkay. And it will be very soon. Either the last day of this month or the very beginning of next month (clears throat in embarrassment). So one of the things that I've had a number of readers write to me about is your "gender." At the beginning of Unassumed you identified as a transfemale, but by the end of the book you identified as gender fluid. Can you tell me why that is?Michael: Because that's how you wrote me. (laughs) No, seriously, it's because when the story first began I was still struggling with my identity. I did feel as if something about me was off but not completely wrong as is the case of many transgender people. There were days when I woke up and I wanted to have breasts and feel very feminine, then there were days when I woke up and I was very proud of my dick and I felt very masculine. One of the biggest problems that I think humans and even those of us in the paranormal world have, is the fact that we think gender and sexuality are very fixed. That you can really only be one thing, straight or gay, male or female, when I believe that we're all very fluid. It's the reason why as kids we don't see something as being "male" or "female", we're a lot more innocent as children. It's only as we get older that we become obsessed with labels and lines and nice, tidy boxes to contain people in. When someone doesn't fit in just one label or won't stay behind the line or doesn't fit into a box, well then we automatically say that the problem lays with that person and not the system that tries to restrain them.Vicktor: You make a very good point.Michael: Thank you.Vicktor: Another thing that many readers wanted to talk to you about was the fact that you're deaf. How is that possible with you being a wolf shifter? Aren't you all immune to everything that humans can suffer from?Michael: Yes, that's true to a certain degree. We're not complete animals though. We are simultaneously wolf and human, you know? We don't fit into labels or boxes, so don't try to stick us into one. As far as my being deaf, as far as I'm aware I'm the only wolf shifter in history to be born this way. I'm also the only male child born to Alpha Alfred Prosace, so perhaps it's because my birth father was so evil? Or because he used to abuse my mother while she was pregnant with me? Or maybe it was a decision made by Fate. I see a lot more than hearing people. I'm more observant of the behavior of others, the subtle facial tics and cues that a person expresses when they're talking, I notice those things. Or perhaps Fate did it because of who my mate was going to be. Howell is a special man, able to not only accept my being gender fluid but to embrace it wholeheartedly, makes him a rare, but exquisitely special person indeed, but not being able to physically talk to me, makes our relationship a little more intimate than a lot of others. We speak through sign language sometimes, but it is mostly through our mating bond and each time it gets stronger and stronger, I have a weird feeling that's going to come in handy down the road.Vicktor: With me as your author (looks at ceiling innocently), that's a very good feeling. (innocent smile) And you're also in an interracial relationship, what's that like?Michael: You know, race or rather, color, is just like gender and physical appearance. People put way too much emphasis. Just because Howell's skin is darker, that doesn't mean that he's any different from any of the white men that I have dated before. Just like Howell sees the person that I am, I see the person that he is, regardless of how light or how dark his skin is. But as far as having to deal with other people as an interracial couple, well, it's different. Some people have more problem with us being a "gay" or "alternative" couple, but we actually had a man tell us that he was more upset about us being an interracial couple than us being a "rainbow" couple. I think that dealing with people's ignorance is a way of life. We grow from our interactions if we remember that ignorant, mean, nasty, and hateful people who refuse to learn, to grow and change are just like sandpaper. They may scratch and rub those of us who are constantly growing and changing, those of us in the minority, those of us who are oppressed, but when it's all over, we'll be smooth and polished and they'll be all used up. I think that's a refreshing thought.Vicktor: That's a line from "Fighting Temptations."Michael: (laughs) Yeah, Howell made us all watch it last night.Vicktor: So you watched it with the subtitles on?Michael: Of course we did.
I opened my mouth to ask another question when Michael sat up straight and turned to look behind him. At that moment Howell walked into the room with Katharina, Michael's sister behind him. Seeing Michael's sister reminded me of another question I'd been asked about Unassumed.Vicktor: Um...Michael?
While my friend, the translator, tried to get Michael's attention he completely ignored us. He merely stood up, turned to wave at me and walked straight into Howell's arms. I watched, like a voyeur, as the two of them begin to make-out right there in front of all of us. Howell's hands came down to squeeze the globes of Michael's ass and I found myself shifting in my seat watching the two of them together. Katharina smiled at me and carried the two children out of the den and I found myself once again impressed by her strength. She was truly as strong and fierce as the female wolves out in the wild, truly the most vicious of the species, I had written her well.It wasn't too long before Howell lifted Michael in his arms and carried him out of the room, without stopping to say good bye to either me or my translator friend. Did I really write him to be that rude to his creator? Then again, he was about to take Michael to their home to have hot, wild, mansex and I know for a fact that I wrote their addiction to that.So that's how my interview with Michael ended. I'd say that the next time I want to interview him that I should probably have Howell there as well, but the whole interview would be me sitting and watching them have sex while I try to ask questions…Maybe that's not such a bad idea after all.
Unassumed can be bought from ARe at: Buy Unassumed Michael and Howell's story continues in A Tate Pack Anthology, releasing at ARe soon.