Vicktor Alexander's Blog, page 6

Hello out there! Welcome to the Sex Positivity Blog Hop at The Purple Fantasy Den!

-turns to glare at guys making out on couch-

Not. Yet.

-returns gaze to audience-

So when Grace Duncan -waves- first talked to me about this blog hop I was excited about it. Uber excited! 

Then I got a little nervous.

Then I was excited again. 

Then I was determined. 

Why did I experience such a wide range of emotions about a blog post?

Well I guess a lot of that has to do with my upbringing.

You see. I was born into an ultra-conservative, extremely religious, so right, they can't even spell left, extremist, Messianic Jewish Republican household. My biological father was a pastor and my biological mother was, for a lot of my life a Messianic Jewish stay-at-home mother.

Sex was taboo. Not to be spoken of. Not to be said. Not to be thought of. As a matter of fact, when I had the "sex talk" with my parents it went like this:

Parents: Babies come about when two people, a man and a woman, meet, fall in love, get married in a church by Yehovah's ordinance, and have sex. Sex is saved for marriage.
Me: Um. But what is sex?
Parents: It's saved for marriage. That's all you need to know.

No. I'm not kidding. I got my sexual education from the encyclopedia, dictionary, school, friends, and hands-on-training.

Why did my biological parents have such an aversion to discussing sex with me? I have no idea. When I got older, my biological mother and I became a little more open about sex, to the point where it was an overshare type thing (I don't care how old you are, no one should ever have to make a sex music cd for their parent... ever.). There needed to be a balance.

So was there some sort of stigmatization of "S-E-X" for them? Obviously not. They had four children together. Was it just talking about it, or talking to their children about it?

I didn't want my brother and sisters to experience the same thing I did so I gave them the sex talk, told them what it was, talked to them about condoms, STDs, G-spots, foreplay, oral sex, etc. and when they had sex dreams, they came to me and talked about it (my youngest sister still does this).

I had a difficult time growing up when it came to sex because my parents had made the issue so unbelievably taboo. And not only had they made sex taboo but anything to do with sex was taboo. It was almost as if taking off my clothes was illegal. (CALL 9-1-1!!!! There's a naked Jewish black man on the premises!) So the fact that I grew up knowing that there was something inherently wrong with my naked physical body when I was unclothed, and knew that the physical didn't match up to the internal, made me think that perhaps they were, in fact, right.

Add that to my dominant nature (-why the hell do I have the urge to tie up my boyfriends?- -why do I want to take control in the bedroom?- -oh my gosh, he's kneeling in front of me... why does that turn me on so much?- -I just want to take care of them, but by giving them what they need, not what they think they want-) and I was all kinds of fucked up. So puberty was a bitch for me. Being around friends of mine who didn't understand why I loved giving blowjobs, and why I wanted to fuck some guy in the ass, was hell for me. Having female friends who talked about getting "wet" and being "eaten out" and standing there feeling uncomfortable with the conversation, because I felt as if they shouldn't be talking about those things because it was "unclean" and "dirty," but also feeling exhilarated because they were taking control of their sexuality was extremely confusing for me.

It wasn't until I got into college and met my friends Jerome and Jamie that I think I fully embraced my sexuality. Before that it had always been a struggle. Even meeting Angel, Justin, and Ryan, my boys who I was so free with and whom I had a lot of different experiences with, I still didn't fully break free of the shackles that had been placed on me as a child.

And you see that's what they were. Sexual repression is a shackle. Wrapped around the minds, hearts, souls, spirits and essences of not only the wearer, but the person they get involved with, their children, and everyone they interact with. It weighs the bearer down, preventing their ability to soar to new heights and restraining their flight.

I am not saying that everyone should go out to Extreme Restraints and become a part of the BDSM/Kink community. Please, G-d. No. Safe. Sane. Consensual is not for everyone. I am also not telling everyone to go out and get involved in a polyamorous relationship or to fuck everything that moves. Ummm... no (STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH JOHN BOB!)

What I am saying is sex is not nasty. It's not something we should only do in the bedroom with the lights turned off, underneath the covers. It's different for each person. Sex, to me, is like a beautiful piece of art. Go with me here. I'm about to blow your mind... hopefully.



Sex: As Art.
Knickerbocker Story (2004) by Keith Garrow When it comes to sex everyone views the painting differently. Though the painting is hanging on the largest wall known to man, framed in the most gorgeous, gilded frame, ever, we all see it from different angles. Some of us are taller than others, so our view is higher, giving us a view that allows us to see the blues and greens that others do not see, giving us an appreciation of sex that moves us to tears, making us treasure it. We walk away from the painting, so moved that we view sex as something so precious, so valuable that we guard it, wanting to only share what we saw with one special person.
Others of us see the painting from the left, allowing us to see the yellows and oranges, giving us an exuberant view of sex. Sex is fun to us. We want to share it with and our hearts with a group, or at least more than one person. Our hearts are big enough to be able to love more than one person. We turn away from the painting, anxious, bubbling with the need to share our view of the painting with those people.
Others see the reds and blacks of the painting, giving us a darker or kinkier view of sex. Sex is part of a greater purpose. Given as a reward of some bigger end. Or maybe sex is not a major focus. The connection is. Whatever it is, for these people, their view is different from the other two groups of people. And they too turn away from the painting, eager to share.
And on and on it goes. Each group of people turning and seeing the painting, each group, each person seeing something different, receiving a different feeling, a different interpretation, walking away from it with a different connection.
How they feel about it, is how they feel about it. They will find like-minded people who agree with them and connect and they will find people who do not agree with them, but do you know what? Unless it's a matter of non-consent, it's not wrong.
Just like art is subjective, so is sex.

So, let me give you the sex talk that my biological parents should have given me:

When consenting people decide they want to have sex, a glorious, hot, sticky, sweaty, physical, exercise, that occurs when lust and passion is stirred, they agree to do it. It should be safe (ALWAYS USE A DAMN CONDOM, PEOPLE! AND GET TESTED!) and again, it should be consensual, but most of all, if they want to do it, whenever they want to do it, it's not wrong.

And now, you may look at the images of the pretty people kissing.

-looks back at the guys on the couch.-
And NOW you can kiss.





And to give you an idea of how sex used to be in the 19th century, here is an excerpt from Groom of Convenience, now available from Dreamspinner Press. It's a historical, scifi, fantasy, and in this scene, Lucien gives a great description of how women were repressed sexually for years. Break those chains people!




AFTER BREAKFAST, the men dressed in their riding habits to prepare for a day of hunting, while the women prepared for a day of… whatever it was that women did.
“So what are you women going to do today?” Heath asked Lucien as he pulled on his riding gloves at the Tfrench doors.
Lucien smiled fondly at him as he adjusted Heath’s cravat. “We are going to play cards and billiards, and then we are going to take a drive into town and go for a bit of shopping. It appears that the women want to dress Eshe up like a little doll, and I am inclined to let them do so.”
Heath chuckled. “Not for the first time I am extremely glad for the mark that makes me a man.”
Lucien smacked his shoulder, and Heath laughed before bending low to place a gentle kiss on Lucien’s lips. “I left you a surprise on your pillow.”
Lucien’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? What is it?”
Heath shook his head. “I shall not tell you. You shall just have to go and find out for yourself.”
“Well away with you, Pompinshire, so that I may be completely unladylike and race up the stairs and discover my gift.”
Heath laughed and reached out to pinch Lucien’s rear. Lucien let out a squeak and blushed, looking around to see if anyone noticed Heath’s actions.
“We are all alone, my dear. There is aught to fear.”
Lucien nodded. “It is not that your attentions are unwelcome, Heath. It’s just that I am still somewhat unused to receiving them.”
“Even after so many months?”
Lucien nodded again, nibbling adorably on his bottom lip, turning it a delightful shade of red. “I think I should be embarrassed even after a few years. We women are made to see such matters of intimacy as something to be done behind closed doors, in the dark, and under the covers. It is almost seen as something shameful. We are told to think of linens and to make household lists as a way to get through it.”
Heath was shocked as he listened to what Lucien told him about what women were told regarding sex and intimacy. “But why are you told such things? Sex, intimacy, and making love are pleasant sensations.”
“If one is with a partner such as yourself, Heath. But not all women receive such attentive partners. Charlotte once told me of a friend of hers who had a husband who tied her up and could only find fulfillment if he were choking her and calling her all manner of filthy names, and it didn’t matter if she found completion or not; it only mattered if he did.” Lucien shook his head. “I was afraid Heathcliff was not going to be as attentive and amazing a lover as Robert. I was blessed because they are one and the same.”
Heath smiled and felt his chest expand with pride. “Yes, well. Timmy and Lucien made being an amazing lover very easy.”
Lucien blushed again. “Just give me time, Heath. Soon I will be pulling you into alcoves to have my way with you.”
Heath backed Lucien up against a wall and pressed his lips to the side of his husband’s neck. “Promise?”
Lucien shivered and nodded. “P-promise.”
Heath felt pleasure bloom through him. “Good.”

You can read more about Lucien and Heathcliff by buying their story from DSP| Amazon| ARe|

One lucky person who comments will receive a free copy of Groom of Convenience or a copy of my backlist.

And follow the rest of the tour: HERE

To every veteran....

Every retiree....

Every active duty personnel...

Every military spouse....

Every military child....


Thank you for your service.



From this veteran of the United States Army to you and yours:




-Vicktor Alexander, Proud Veteran

I'm over at Zam Maxfield's blog today for Tuesday Teaser! Can you guess the names of the characters that have been removed from the one-page excerpt posted? If so, email your answer and if you're correct you could be entered to win a prize!:

http://zamaxfield.com/2014/11/11/tuesday-teaser-with-guest-author-vicktor-alexander/

Thank you so much to Lila who nominated Groom Of Convenience for Best Historical and Best Family Drama for the Goodreads M/M Romance Group Member Choice Awards!

I am continuously humbled by you, the readers . Where I agonized and fretted over the release of this book, you have made it a Bestseller at Dreamspinner, Amazon, and ARe. You have nominated it for awards, you encourage others to read it, but even more than that (and this to me is the greatest thing ever) you have told me how much you loved the book, how it touched it you and how you're looking forward to the next one.

And thank you to Holly who nominated It's You, Then Breathing for Best Love's Landscapes Story and Best Coach/Athlete. I wrote the story for you and I'm beyond happy that it touched you so much that you wanted to nominate it for awards (and wrote a haiku about it too! Wow!)

Thank you so much. It has been a pleasure always pushing those lines and boundaries with my readers and I'm so glad you all have gone with me on this ride. Thank you for nominating me. I am so humbled by this.













-Vicktor Alexander

With NaNoWriMo starting, I'm going to be focused on writing The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm 2-the sequel to Groom of Convenience from Dreamspinner Press). So I will be taking a break from being online except for updates.

Before I go, however, I did want to let everyone know of two things:

1) For the month of November I was supposed to do Create The Story Contest. I'm putting that on hold because I just can't keep up with who is bidding what to the Elton John AIDS Foundation. I'll start it up when I return.

2) My birthday is coming up! (November 16th! Woohoo!!) I know that some of my readers and author friends asked last year about sending me prezzies. So you can do 1 of 2 things this year. You can either send me candy corn. Yes. I said candy corn. I have an obsession (I need to join a Candy Corn Anonymous) or you can donate to the Elton John AIDS Foundation in either memory of my friend Justin, to honor my friend, Angel, who is currently fighting this horrible disease, or someone you know or many others who are living every day with this.

So there you have it.

Thanks everyone! See you all on the other side of NaNo! And to all my fellow NaNo-ites: GOOD LUCK!

-Vicktor Alexander

I am super excited to welcome Grace Duncan to The Purple Fantasy Den to let her promote her new book release Healing, book 2 in the Pandemus Chronicles series from Dreamspinner Press! I'm really excited about this book. I can't wait to read it and I know that after reading the blurb and the excerpt below you will feel the same way. And don't forget to check out the giveaway and Grace's tour dates. You're going to want to enter and keep them in mind [trust me].





  In a world that's gone to hell, will you let old fears keep you from the chance at more than just survival?

Blurb: 

When Duncan stumbles into a pharmacy in search of something to fix his broken leg, he’s surprised to find someone else there. Like the rest of the post-pandemic world, it appeared empty. Instead, he discovers Mark, a former nurse who walked away from his profession after losing too many patients to the virus. Despite swearing he’d never practice medicine again, Mark patches Duncan up over Duncan's protests. He even finds an abandoned house in the tiny town, and they settle in until Duncan heals enough to look out for himself. Much to the chagrin of both, they find themselves caring for each other. Duncan welcomes it, thrilled at finding someone he can trust. However, he’s well aware of the shadows in Mark’s eyes and understands Mark’s reticence as he learns the story. But as he’s starting to do things for himself again, Duncan realizes he doesn’t want Mark to leave. He’s not sure if can get Mark to let go of his fears so they can stay together and love. But Duncan’s damned sure going to try.

Buy links: 

Dreamspinner | Amazon | ARe

Excerpt:

He should have known better. Under normal circumstances, it was a stupid move, but right here, right now, “stupid” didn’t begin to cover it.

Duncan glared at his leg for another moment, then leaned his head back against the wall. He needed to keep moving. It hurt like hell, but he had to keep going. It wasn’t going to get better on its own. The gash needed to be cleaned and bandaged, and even if the break wasn’t bad, it should at least be braced. And it wasn’t like he could call an ambulance. Or even go into an emergency room.

Well, he supposed he could go into an emergency room, if he was in the city. But like a lot of other people, he avoided the cities whenever possible. And when it wasn’t, he stayed as far on the edge as he could. But even there, it was a dangerous risk. As corrupt as the cities were now, the price of anything was higher than most could pay. He’d heard rumors that, in some of the worst cities, people simply got shot if they couldn’t pay what the thugs in power wanted. It was all rumor, but rumor he wasn’t about to ignore.

So he did his damnedest to stay away.

He’d been stupid to jump off the ledge. Even at only a couple of feet higher than he was tall, the risk hadn’t been worth it. He’d have thought, after nearly three years, he’d learned how to be more careful and not take those kinds of risks. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen and hurt himself—though, thankfully, the last one hadn’t involved a broken bone. Maybe it should have; he might have learned his lesson then.

“Really fucking stupid, Dun.”

Duncan steeled himself and pulled to his feet, grimacing when the sharp pain shot up his ankle and through his leg. “Fuck,” he muttered, breathing hard through his nose. When he finally focused past the pain, he looked up and noted the position of the sun, the only real indication he had for the time, and figured he had another good hour or two of light. If he was right about where he was, he wouldn’t need all of it. He tucked the stick he’d found under his arm, grimaced when it dug into the soft flesh, but then leaned on it and hobbled along again.

 
Grace’s 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.

Grace’s website: http://www.grace-duncan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2
Twitter: @GraceRDuncan

Giveaway! 
Enter to win an Amazon.com $25 gift card! Rafflecopter Giveaway:
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Don’t forget to follow the tour for more chances to win! Every comment on the tour is another entry into the Rafflecopter grand prize giveaway! Thanks for stopping by!
 

Congratulations Jen CW! You are the winner of the Grand Prize: A free Ebook copy of Groom of Convenience and the Limited Edition GoC Wedding Gift Bag!

Woohoo!

I have sent you an email with further instructions. Thank you to everyone who participated and who promoted GoC. You all ROCK!

Groom Of Convenience was #6 on the Romance > Science Fiction Bestseller List on Amazon, was on the Bestseller List on ARe, and is currently in the Top 10 Bestseller List on Dreamspinner Press! That's because of all of you! And the reviews that you all send to me on FB, in my Yahoo group, etc.? Thank you so much. They mean so much. I'm glad you all think this is my best one yet. I'm determined to keep getting better.

I'll be announcing the winner from the Rainbow Gold Reviews Giveaway on Monday.

Congratz again, Jen!

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I'm so excited that Groom Of Convenience was reviewed over at the Rainbow Book Reviews by Trish! Here's what she had to say about the book:

"This is a totally fascinating story that had me hooked from the very beginning! At first, it seems to be just another historical romance set in 19th-century England, but nothing could be further from the truth....This compelling story is a sweeping saga set in a universe where sex and gender are a fluid concept, and if you want a satisfying historical romance with a twist to spend a lazy afternoon reading, then this book will more than fit the bill."


You can find the entire review: HERE



Excerpt (From Groom of Convenience):
“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.
“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her. Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”
Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving. Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.
“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”
Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her. “Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace.
Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.
“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.
“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem.
As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.
So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that. Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.
“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.
“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him. The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it. He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.
Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face. Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.
“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.
“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.
“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.
“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look. That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.
“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.
“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.
“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.
“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”




  Groom of Convenience
By: Vicktor Alexander
Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: October 17, 2014
Length: Novel/290 pages

Order:Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon| Kobo| iBookstore| Nook


Add to: Goodreads

  Description:In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages. Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman's club, he meets "Robert," a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as "Timmy," regardless of the potential damage to his reputation. After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn't as safe as they once thought.

  About the Author:
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 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. Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+

Giveaway:
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So it's Freaky Friday! It's also HAPPY HAPPY RELEASE DAY for me!

WOOHOO!!!!

Groom of Convenience (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm) released today from Dreamspinner Press!

I am soooo excited! And the CAH-RAY-ZEE thing is that IT'S ALREADY A BESTSELLER ON ARe!!!! Oh my Godiva! You guys are too good to me! (Do you like my new saying? "Oh my Godiva" I'm thinking about putting them on some T-shirts or something, not sure if I can. I'll have to look into that)

Since it is Freaky Friday I thought I'd share with you all a deleted scene from Groom of Convenience.



Deleted Scene Excerpt:

1813

The air was muggy and the street was practically deserted as Lady Lucien Hawthorn alighted from his sister Charlotte's borrowed carriage.
"Luce, you must promise me that you will be safe," Charlotte whispered harshly.
Lucien looked over his shoulder, shoving the infernal fabric of gown his maldy had forced him to wear to the latest ball thrown by the Viscount and Viscountess of Bolton deep into the cushioned carriage seat. He gave Charlotte a reassuring smile and reached out to touch her gloved hand with his own. He loved that his sister was so concerned about him. To be sure, his reputation could in fact be severely damaged by his appearance at such a lecture, but how could he stay away? Jeremy Bentham was giving a lecture on the abolition of the slave trade and Lucien was determined to listen to it. Especially since Lucien had heard there were going to be men in attendance who could help him in his study of the Tswahili language.
"I give you my word, Char," he said, using his nickname for her. "I will do my utmost to be ever on my guard. Protecting not only my reputation but my virtue from those who would see it come to ruin."
Charlotte rolled her eyes. "I care not about your virtue, you ninny. Maldy and Mother have locked away your virginity in the safe at Hawthorn. I am only concerned about you, a gentle-bred young lady, only son of the Earl of Yorkshire, being seen at a lecture of intellectuals. They shall think that you are a bluestocking."
Lucien snorted and leaned close to whisper into his sister's ear. "That's because I am."
Charlotte laughed. "Oh! Go on then. Rourke and I shall be 'round to fetch you in exactly one hour, Lucien. Be sure to be ready. If you are not, I shall send my great big Tscottish husband inside to fetch you."
Lucien shivered as he thought of his brother-in-law storming inside, red hair swirling around his shoulders, green eyes flashing, as he tossed Lucien over his shoulder and carried him out. It would completely shame Lucien, horrify the men in the room, and ruin his family's name. He mentally shook his head. No, he would be ready.
"I assure you. I will be ready."
With a nod and a final kiss to his sister's cheek, Lucien ducked out of the carriage and hurried across the cobbled road to the barely lit townhouse where the lecture was being held. Opening the door as quietly as possible, he stood at the back of the room, not caring if he got a seat and listened with anticipation as Jeremy Bentham was introduced. He tried not to clap too enthusiastically, going for a more sedate applause, as the elder, white-haired gentleman approached the front of the room and began speaking. Lucien listened in awe wishing that he'd thought to bring his journal with him so that he could document Mr. Bentham's powerful words.
A slight movement occurred in the corner and he turned his head and observed the sight of a long leg resting next to a cane, wide, blunt-tipped fingers wrapped around the handle. As his gaze continued to travel up the body attached to those legs all he saw was the back of the man's head, thick, black hair that he, for some unexplainable reason, wanted to run his fingers through. Swallowing nervously, Lucien turned his attention back to the lecture and away from the tempting, unidentified, faceless, stranger.
"This offering to liberty ought to be determined by lot. Choice, under the pretext of honouring the most worthy, would be a source of cabals: it would cause more discontent and jealousy than happiness. The lot is impartial; it gives all an equal chance of happiness; it spreads the charm of hope among those whom it does not favour; and the dread of being deprived of this chance, on account of any crime committed, would be another bond to the fidelity of the slaves."
Lucien wanted to applaud. He really did. But he did not. Instead he nodded just like the men in the room. He kept his head lowered, hoping they did not notice that he was a lady among them. Though there were other ladies among them, he did not have the same liberties they did. His maldy would skin him alive were she to find out that he had been consorting among philosophers, discussing slavery and abolition, even though she favored the latter and abhored the former.
When Mr. Bentham concluded his speech, Lucien clapped and made his way quickly to Lord Bryce Cullingham, Marquess of Balmouth, whom he knew was well-versed in Tswahili. They conversed for a moment on the language and Lucien accepted the notes the man had brought with him on the complicated vowels and consanants.
When the door to the townhouse slammed open, he groaned, already knowing who it was. Bloody hell. His time was up.
"Please excuse me, my lord. It seems that I have overstayed my welcome. I must go." He executed a perfect curtsey. He ignored the gasps around him and hurried towards the hall just as Rourke roared his name.
"I am looking for me brother-in-law! He is the son of Lord York-" Rourke stopped when he saw Lucien appear in the hallway and grinned. He gestured out towards the street. "Ah, there ye are lass. Shall we go?"
Lucien nodded, his face flaming hot. He bowed his head and rushed towards the awaiting carriage.
"I shall send me man 'round to pay for the damage to your door, old chap. Sorry about the bother," Rourke apologized behind him.
Lucien opened the carriage and scrambled in, sitting across from Charlotte, folding his arms across his chest. She smiled sweetly at him. The carriage rocked as Rourke climbed in beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"Did you learn a great deal, Luce?" she asked.
Lucien glared at her and turned his head to stare out the side of the carriage as it pulled away. Rourke chuckled.
"I was," he mumbled.
"Cheer up, Lucien. It wasn't as bad as all that," she said.
He snorted and refused to look at either of them. He knew he was pouting but he refused to care.
"But did you have a good time? That's what is important," Rourke asked cheekily.
Lucien turned to look at him, his mouth hanging open. He squeaked indignantly before bursting into laughter. Charlotte and Rourke joined him seconds later. He sat up and began to tell them all about the lecture, his hands gesturing excitedly.
He was animated as he told them everything, describing everyone in attendance.
Well almost everyone.
He kept the black-haired man holding the cane a secret, though he did not know why.




Excerpt (From Groom of Convenience):
“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.
“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her. Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”
Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving. Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.
“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”
Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her. “Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace.
Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.
“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.
“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem.
As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.
So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that. Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.
“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.
“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him. The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it. He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.
Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face. Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.
“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.
“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.
“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.
“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look. That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.
“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.
“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.
“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.
“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”




  Groom of Convenience
By: Vicktor Alexander
Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: October 17, 2014
Length: Novel/290 pages

Order:Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads

  Description:In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages. Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman's club, he meets "Robert," a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as "Timmy," regardless of the potential damage to his reputation. After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn't as safe as they once thought.

  About the Author:
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 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. Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+

Giveaway:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

It's Thursday Pimping, ya'll! And usually this is the day when I pimp out new releases, but since this is Groom of Convenience Release week, I'm going to share ONE more exclusive excerpt with you all before the book's release TOMORROW (-cue MASSIVE freakout-) from Dreamspinner Press.

So enjoy, and don't forget to enter the giveaway below and LEAVE A COMMENT!!!






Excerpt:

HEATHCLIFF ROBERT Eddington III was livid. No, he was beyond livid. He was enraged. After picking up a vase from the stand it rested on, he hurled it across the room and watched with satisfaction when it exploded into pieces. His father’s words, written emotionlessly across the piece of parchment paper that Heathcliff—called Heath by his friends, few as they might be, and “Pompinshire” by everyone else—was clutched, completely crumpled, in his hand. He didn’t need to look at the letter again to know what it said. The words were engraved on his brain, his father’s tightly scrawled handwriting echoing in his mind.

Heathcliff,
Per our agreement, your mother and I have made a splendid union for you. You will wed Lady Lucien Hawthorn six months hence at St. George’s Cathedral. The engagement announcement will go in The Times on the morn’ of the 15th. You will present yourself to the Yorkshire Estate for a dinner on the evening of the 16th, at which time you will begin to get to know your future husband. On the 19th you will accompany me to the Yorkshire Estate to negotiate the marriage contract, and on the night of the 20th there will be an engagement ball, which you will attend. Your mother has made sure to include a schedule of balls, dinners, operas, plays, and musicales to which you would be wise to invite your betrothed. The young lady is eight and ten years of age, so it will be your duty to lead him in your relationship. And do not act poorly, for your reputation is now tied to his, and while yours is one filled with debauchery and stains, his is one of pristine innocence and upstanding character.
As Always,
Cumbria

Letting out a growl, Heath picked up the vase stand and heaved it into the wall as well, watching with grim satisfaction as it not only splintered but left a gaping hole upon impact. He turned his head at the hesitant knock at the door to his study, and, raking his fingers through the thick black strands of his hair, mussing his queue, Heath marched to the door and wrenched it open.
“What?” he growled out into the face of his butler, Annise.
“Your Grace? Are you quite all right?” she asked him.
Whereas the other servants had no doubt raced away in terror, Annise had been with Heath since he was a young boy and understood his temperament. She was a man of upstanding character and was the soul of discretion, never remarking on the number of males who trooped in and out of his bedchamber on an almost daily basis. She merely gathered their coats and escorted them out. Even the number of times Heath had stumbled into his large town house completely foxed had not deterred the older man. She had merely helped him into his bedchamber and woken his valet, Thomas, to make sure he helped change and ready Heath for bed.
Heath was not at all surprised to find Annise standing on the other side of his door inquiring about his well-being. What did surprise him was the fact that Annise stood there holding an ice pick and looking for all the world as if she were prepared to fight someone. The sight so shocked him that Heath was immediately stunned out of his anger, and he chuckled.
“Are you looking to kill me, Annise?” Heath asked her.
“No, Your Grace, but it sounded as if there was a brawl going on within your study, and I just wanted to be sure—” Annise hesitated for a moment. “—that you were all right.”
Heath laughed again. “You mean you wanted to make sure I had not killed someone who you would have to try to explain to the constable, correct?”
Annise blushed before straightening her shoulders. “I would do it, should I need to, Your Grace,” she told him staunchly.
Heath reached out to grip her shoulder. “I know you would, Annise. You are a good man, but it is not needed. I was just venting my frustration over my father’s actions,” he admitted, turning to look at his study and wincing at the destruction.
“Again?” Annise asked as she stepped into the study past Heath. He followed her into the room and shook his head. He didn’t understand why he not only still allowed his father to rouse his emotions to such heights but also to still dictate his life. While Heath was the only one of his parents’ children to survive infancy and was the heir to his father’s dukedom, Heath had become a duke in his own right when his grandfather, his mother’s father, had died the year before with no heirs besides Heath, since his mother’s sibling had no offspring.
Perhaps it was a matter of familial honor and tradition. Or perhaps it was his mother. Whenever he got it into his head to tell his father to go to the devil, he would see her sweet face looking at him beseechingly, begging without words for him to hold his tongue. And Heath always did, to the point where he found himself absently agreeing to most anything his father suggested just to get the old blowhard to go away.
Which was how he found himself engaged to some young cherry who didn’t know anything about the world, how to please a man, or even the more innocent of relations between two persons.
Heath had gone to visit his parents for their weekly Sunday brunch, enjoyed after spending the morning in church, when he’d been confronted by his father about his need to get married.
“Heathcliff, you are eight and thirty. It is high time you took for yourself a wife. Male or female, it does not matter, but you need one who will provide you with heirs and will not be too clingy as to make your life miserable. You have duties, and the men in the House of Commons do not tend to trust those who have no one depending on them for their well-being,” his father stated exasperatedly.
Heath had shrugged and teased, “Well, Father, since you have such a firm definition of what type of woman I need to marry, why don’t you find the male for me and make it happen?”
The table had grown silent; not even the clink of silverware on the fine china dishes could be heard. Heath had stared his father in the eye while lifting his glass of wine to his lips, then took a sip. He had been startled when his father had clapped his hands and said, “Well done, Son. I am glad you are finally seeing things my way.” He hadn’t expanded upon that statement, and Heath had to admit he had forgotten about the conversation entirely.
Until now.
“Yes, again,” Heath retorted as he walked to his Chesterfield sofa and fell onto it in quite a dramatic fashion.
Annise chuckled and began to straighten the room around him while Heath groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. He knew he was exaggerating things to a certain extent, and that as a man, he was to display no emotion beyond pride, confidence, and arrogance, but he was in his own home, and no one was there to see his very “unmanly” display but her.
“I am sure things are not as bad as you think they are, Your Grace,” Annise said before tsking when she noticed the hole in the wall and the shattered pieces of furniture and vases on the floor. “I’ll have to get a few of the maids in here,” she muttered, and Heath winced.
“I am sincerely apologetic about the mess in here, Annise, but I assure you, this time my father has gone too far,” Heath apologized. “He has seen fit to marry me off to some young chit of only eight and ten! Lady Lucien Hawthorn. Why, I’ve never even heard of him.”





Groom of Convenience
By: Vicktor Alexander
Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1
M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: October 17, 2014
Length: Novel/290 pages


Order:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads



Description:
In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman's club, he meets "Robert," a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as "Timmy," regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn't as safe as they once thought.



About the Author:
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 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.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+


Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway