Monday, September 26, 2011

Surrender To The Wolf

Surrender To The Wolf
Channing's Wolves 2

Cole and others like -Channing's wolves--live wild and free. Cole has no need for a mate. No reason for jealousy. Sex is for pleasure. And no one gives him more pleasure than Gavin.

Only Gavin wants more. And it doesn't include sharing Cole with other wolves. He could fight for what he wants...or he could surrender to the wolf.

Publisher Note: In the Channing's Wolves Series, each book focuses on a different relationship within the pack, but the unfolding of the overall plot takes places over the course of the series. While each individual short story is complete, for optimal enjoyment this series is best read in order.


Cole retreated to the shadows of the barn, heeding Wade's warning to shift out of sight. He had to tamp down the need of his wolf --the need to stake claim on this man-- because right now, Gavin's needs were more important. Bones lengthened and his blood warmed. Tendons and ligatures stretched as his body morphed from wolf to man.

Once erect, he took a step toward Gavin. "We need to talk."

"I think we've said enough. At least I know I've heard enough."

A crack of thunder rattled the barn and the horse jumped. Gavin rubbed her neck and slipped a bridle over her head.

"I'm sorry." Cole seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

"For what? For fucking me or for fucking with me. You made it clear you'd prefer to be with anyone else, so leave me the fuck alone." He shifted his stance. "And by the way, telling the pack you'd rather take patrols with me is a fucked up way to say you can't control yourself with Shiloh." Gavin led the horse out of the stall. "So since youĂ­d rather fuck Shiloh, you can go with my blessing. Fuck you and fuck off. I have work to do before we patrol tonight."

Cole turned, shut the barn door and slid thebolt into place. "Not tonight."

Gavin paused. He stared into Cole's eyes,but his gaze kept slipping lower. Cole's cock was erect and thick against his groin. Cole took a step closer. Dark thunderheads blocked the fading light and the barn was warm. Intimate and ripe with tension.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Claiming what's mine."

Gavin shook his head. "I'm not that easy."

Cole chuckled. "No shit. What about us has ever been easy?"

Gavin raised a brow.

So maybe Gavin hadn't exactly been hard to fuck, but that was the way of the wolf. They were pleasure seekers, wild and fierce.

"Hey, don't worry. I'll take the blame. I doesn't matter what I thought. Fucking is fucking and I'm not interested anymore." Gavin rested one hand on the horse's back and held the reins with the other.

"We have more than sex between us and you know it."

"How would I know?" Gavin raised his voice, tossed down the reins and attempted to walk past Cole.

Cole grabbed his arm. "I don't have to tell you." He backed Gavin against the barn wall and growled. "You feel it."

Gavin gasped a breath. "The only thing I feel is your dick digging into me. Could you back off?"

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Claimed By The Wolf

Claimed by the Wolf
Channing's Wolves 1
Taylor McKay
Gay paranormal


A wolf without a pack is a solitary life. Calan runs wild on
Channing land, but his stay can only be temporary. He isn’t like other wolves. He will never feel the need to breed and will never take a mate.
The large black wolf—the shifter who claims him nightly—has other ideas. This Alpha wolf may not give Calan a choice.


Breath misted in the cool evening air. Muscles burned, pushing him,
stretching his levels of endurance. Calan was strong. He had to be
because his pursuer was just as cunning, just as swift. And the wolf was
gaining ground.

As a wolf in his prime, Calan was a hunter, of age for a female mate
and a defender of his territory. However, Calan didn’t want a territory,
didn’t want a bitch to mount. Calan ached for the forceful domination
of another Alpha.

Blood rushed through his veins, the thrumming of his pulse keeping
rhythm with the pounding of paws against soft soil. He was on Channing
land, rushing through the scrub and rocky terrain. This wasn’t his
territory, but he wasn’t the only one trespassing. The wolf on his heels
was gaining. Calan dug in, pushed harder. He was fast—the other wolf
was faster.

A growl echoed through the forest and seeped into him. Lust coiled in
his gut. His cock was swelling, pheromones saturating the air. Calan
tamped down the whimper building in his chest. He ached to lie in the
tall grass and submit. Eventually, but not yet. There was no doubt the
black wolf giving chase would fuck him. Calan didn’t have a choice. With
equal ferocity, Calan desperately craved the joining.

He darted left, his paws clawing the leaves, twigs and rocks covering
the ground. Adrenaline spiked his blood, surging new energy through
him. He propelled forward, exerting every effort to give good chase.
Would he outrun the other wolf? In the six weeks since their first
encounter, Calan never had, and he wouldn’t tonight. But that didn’t
mean he’d give in easy. He’d run, fight, and finally he’d submit.

But the night was young. Drinking in the cool forest mist, he ran as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

Taking a sharp right, he lost his footing and stumbled. A cry broke
from him, but he ignored the pain and quickly sprinted deeper into the
woods. Breath came hard and fast. He panted. Night sounds surrounded
him, and beneath the subtle fragrances of evergreen and oak, he detected
the distinct scent of the male wolf in pursuit. Calan would know him
anywhere and he was getting closer. Calan’s body primed for the fight.

The vibrations of the paws grew closer. Calan’s heart matched the
rampant rhythm of the other male. The black was stronger, faster,
larger. He was intimidating and Calan couldn’t resist the erotic pull.
Fear clashed with the unquenchable need for cock.

A viscous growl rent the air. Calan skidded to a halt. Ears twitched
and a low vibration rumbled from his belly. Fur prickled along his nape.
Lips pulled back in a snarl as Calan bared his teeth and searched the
shadowed forest. The black was here.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Hot Shots

Hot Shots
AJ Hardcourt
Gay Contemporary

To Purchase

Top photographer Troy Walker would like nothing more than to top Simon Nestor. But how to mix with business with pleasure? Troy has been giving off the vibe, but Simon doesn’t seem to be interested.

Simon’s underwear and swim line are for men who like to show off their assets. During the photo shoot for an upcoming ad, Simon once again lingers in the background…watching Troy. Troy is driving Simon crazy with lust. But does Simon dare risk his professional relationship with Troy to get the really hot shots?


Simon’s heart raced. Melting heat from Troy’s touch seeped through his trousers and into his flesh. Simon didn’t flinch a muscle, couldn’t breathe for fear Troy would move his hand. Images on the computer blurred. Troy’s words drowned in the roar of blood in his ears. Simon closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and willed his body not to betray his mind. He couldn’t read more into the touch. He wasn’t like Troy. He didn’t put his hands on someone without the gesture meaning more than a connection to the job. Troy had his hands on models, beautiful men and women all the time. Simon guessed Troy had fucked a few of them, but he was the client and Troy had never hinted at anything other than professional interest.

"I think this is some of the best work I’ve done all year."

Simon forced his focus away from the sexual desire coiling in his gut to the frames on the computer. Holy shit. These were amazing. The explosive chemistry between the men sizzled in the picture. With perfect clarity Simon could see the ad. More than that, the dark-haired dream in the shot, who’d been friendly and professional during the shoot, came alive in ways on film that Simon hadn’t noticed in person. If anything, he was more beautiful in the picture. A small swimsuit cradled the bulge of his cock. Men would want to look like him…or want to fuck him. Either way, he was going to sell product. He had a body and face—an attitude—perfect for BB designs. "I want him."

"Yeah? He’s hot." Troy’s hand slipped from Simon’s thigh. "You met him tonight. I saw you talking with him."

"I know, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him for long." And he hadn’t realized how the model would transform on film. "Do you work with him often?" Because Simon would want an exclusive with Troy. The chemistry between photographer and model was undeniable.

"Better than that. We’re friends. I shot his first cover. His name is Jago, and he’s Brazilian. I can probably set something up."

Simon turned to Troy and smiled. "That would be fantastic."

"Yeah, I’m sure. But I don’t usually play matchmaker."

Simon furrowed his brows. "What?"

"It’s just that I’m not into making hookups happen, especially on a guy I’d rather have for myself. But I will."

Simon laughed, but his stomach rolled at hearing Troy confirm he was interested in Jago. "I don’t want to date him. I’ve been thinking about putting a face to BB. I want him for an exclusive contract. Think he’ll go for it?"

Troy paused. He stared at Simon, the intensity in his eyes stealing the breath from his lungs. "You want him for an exclusive? You aren’t interested in him personally?"

"No, for that, he’s all yours." Simon couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jago. He was perfect for Blue Boyz. "Just don’t fuck it up by pissing him off." Simon chuckled. "Unless you think his angry look will be even hotter than his sexy look because I want you to shoot the ads."

"Not a problem. I’m not interested in Jago. He’s not my type."

Simon snapped his gaze to Troy. "But you said…"

"I was referring to you. Damn, Simon, I’m throwing out the signs. So either I really suck at giving out the vibe or you’re just not interested."

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Cowboy Tamed

Cowboy Tamed
Tayor McKay
Gay Cowboy Contemporary

To Purchase

Two months ago Brock Ward kicked Preston Keese off his ranch, but nothing can get the hot cowboy out of his head. Damn Preston for lying and cheating…and throwing away his love.

Preston fucked up. In his need to prove Brock cared, he lost the man he needed most. There’s nothing left for him in Copper Creek…except Brock. If only he could prove he wants to be a cowboy tamed.

One phone call is all Preston has…one chance to try to rein in the man he wants.


Regret slammed like a meaty fist into Preston's gut, the force stealing his breath. Brock came. He looked tired…he looked pissed. "Sheriff?" If Brock hadn't wanted to bail him out, he shouldn't have come. Preston had assumed that's why Brock had hung up on him. "He's pissed."

"What did you expect? A hug and a handshake." He gave Preston a shove toward the door. "Consider this probation. Get your shit together, Preston." Zeb hitched up his trousers and puffed up his chest on a deep breath. "Brock's bringing you back on his ranch, temporary like. So it's up to you to figure out the rest."

Preston nodded and followed Brock out the door. Once outside, he said, "I need to get a few things out of my truck."

Brock flung open the driver's side door. "I need to get back to the ranch." He slid behind the wheel as Preston opened the passenger door. Brock stared at him across the cab of the truck. His mouth formed a hard line and his jaw ticked with tension.

For the last two months, Preston had simmered in his own self hate. He had a gift for fucking up everything good in his life, and he'd certainly fucked up with Brock. He hated depending on anyone, even Brock. Although in fairness to Brock, he'd hid his feelings well. But Brock had to have hated their relationship. Brock provided everything. He had money, friends, a hard body and a sharp mind. What did he need Preston for? Besides a piece of ass.

Preston had only ever been able to count on himself and now he had the sheriff pulling in favors. As much as he missed Brock, this wasn't going to work. "I'm not sure what to say to you. I'm so fucking grateful that you're here, but you're obviously pissed about it. If I could say, don't worry about me, I'll be fine and then go on my way, I would. But I'm on my knees here."

"I don't want you on your knees." Brock growled and turned away. "Get in the truck."

Preston sat in the truck and shut the door. "My pickup is around back."

Brock nodded, turned the ignition and shoved the gear into reverse. The cab was dark and silent as he drove around to the back of the building and pulled alongside Preston's truck.

"It'll just take a minute. Be right back." Preston climbed from the vehicle. Two months ago, he'd felt exactly as he did right now. The crushing weight of regret made his chest ache and his gut clench. He'd throw up if he had anything in his stomach. Pamela had offered to feed him at the jail, but after Brock had hung up on him, he couldn't bring himself to eat.

Grabbing his hat off the front seat of his truck, he slapped it on then went to the rear of the bed. He grabbed his duffel and sleeping bag and tossed them into the bed of Brock's truck. Less than a minute later, he opened to door and climbed back in. "I'm ready."

Brock threw the truck in gear and cruised out of the courthouse parking lot. Preston took a last look over his shoulder, then sighed and relaxed into the seat. However, he felt far from calm. As Brock shifted gears, Preston couldn't tear his gaze away from the play of muscle in Brock's thighs. His palm rested on the gear shift, his fingers curled around the knob. Two months hadn't diminished his rugged sexiness.

They drove a few miles without speaking. Preston stared out the side window, wishing Brock would say something. "You didn't have to come." His words broke the silence.

"I didn't want to."

He turned to Brock. "Then why did you?"

Brock's hand tightened on the steering wheel. "Because I had to." He cast a quick glance at Preston then turned back to the road. "I suppose we're going to have to discuss a few things."

Preston choked on the lump in his throat. He'd been naked with Brock, had spent long nights kissing him, running his hands over the hard contours of Brock's body. He'd been fucked by Brock—fucked until he walked with a limp. He'd also sucked Brock's dick, swallowed his cum and rimmed his hole before he shoved his cock into Brock and fucked him until they were both sweaty and spent. They were friends and lovers.

Until Preston fucked it up.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Boys In Blue

Adrian O’Rourke is the new rookie in the Boston PD. Tonight he’s buying rounds and bonding with his fellow boys in blue. The only officer Adrian wants to bond with is Owen Murphy.

However, Owen and Adrian have history. Will memories of the past stand between them or will Owen take Adrian as his partner…in and out of the uniform?


“What the fuck are you doing?” Owen leaned against the door, his hands balled into fists at his side.

Should Adrian apologize? Pretend ignorance? “Drinking, celebrating. Buying all my friends a beer. Come on, let me buy you another one.” He took a step toward the door. “I could use another round myself.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“I think I can make that decision on my own.” Owen continued to block the door. “Fuck you, Owen.” He didn’t want to be taken care of. He needed Owen to see him as a man, one of the guys on the beat—or nothing. He had to step out of Danny’s shadow. At work and in life. “I’m not Danny’s little brother anymore. You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Is that what you think I want?” Owen pushed Adrian against a stack of crates closing the space between them. “You’ll always be Danny’s little brother, but believe me I’m not looking to babysit you.”

Adrian inhaled sharply. Owen’s breath, carrying the sweet scent of Irish whiskey, warmed Adrian’s lips. Owen braced his palms flat against the crate, framing Adrian within the circumference of his arms.

“I don’t know what you want.”

Owen growled. “Aside from what I’ve always wanted?”

“And what would that be?”

“Christ Adrian, I was always so scared Danny would see through me. If he knew my thoughts, knew what I wanted to do to his little brother he would have kicked my ass.”

“What do you want to do because if you’re about to kiss me, god, please don’t make me wait.” He hesitantly rested his hands on Owen’s hips. The moment was heavy, poignant for both of them. Adrian could barely breathe as he waited for Owen to say…to do something…anything.

“I’ve been waiting for you, hoping you felt the same. The way you’ve spoken to me tonight. The way you look at me. Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” He rocked his pelvis into Adrian’s. His cock was hard, stretching the denim of his jeans. “I need you, but I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want.”

Adrian stared hard at Owen. All the years of longing, of pining for this man. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Owen took a breath to speak, but Adrian cut him off. “Never mind. I don’t care why.”

He crashed his lips onto Owen’s. He kept his eyes open—couldn’t look away, could risk missing a moment of the rapture on Owen’s face—as he guided his mouth over Owen’s, tasting the seam, wanting inside. Owen parted his lips and Adrian dipped in for the first delicious taste. Lips sealed to lips, sending a shiver of awareness, hotter than lightning, streaking down Adrian’s spine, searing a trail into his balls and warming him from cock to buttocks. He shifted his head, opened wider and claimed Owen’s mouth. Tongue rubbed along tongue. Hot. Wet. Passionate.

Owen groaned and at the same time, gripped Adrian’s ass and urged him closer, grinding his cock into Adrian’s rigid erection already leaking pre-cum. Owen’s body was hard beneath Adrian’s fingertips as he navigated his way to Owen’s ass.

Hands were everywhere, stroking, gripping, trying to get closer. Adrian slipped his fingers under Owen’s shirt at his lower back and into the waistband of Owen’s jeans, trekking his fingertips over the curve of Owen’s ass.

Owen growled, pivoted and pinned Adrian to the wall. “I’ve wanted this…wanted you for so long.” With a slow gyration, he swiveled his hips and created an intense erotic friction between their bodies.

Adrian buried his nose against Owen’s flesh, nuzzling him just beneath his ear. The tease of his cologne, the masculine scent of his flesh, left him dizzy with desire. Desire to kiss and touch where they had more privacy. He flicked his tongue against Owen’s neck. “I need you now,” he pleaded. “Does the door lock?” He wedged his hand between them and traced the edge of Owen’s erection, grazing the rounded head through his jeans with his fingertips.

Owen rested his forehead against Adrian’s. Noses touching long the sides. The moment was intimate, promising a deeper connection. “I remember the day Danny introduced us.”

“So do I.” As if it were yesterday. Danny had brought Owen to a family barbecue for the Fourth of July. That night, watching the fireworks, Danny and Julie had kissed as they sat on a blanket. Owen had stared into the sky…and Adrian had stared at Owen.

“You’d just come in from playing basketball with friends. Your shorts hung on your hips.” Owen braced his hands on Adrian’s hips. “You weren’t wearing a shirt. Sweat slicked your chest.” He tugged on the hem of Adrian’s shirt. Adrian lifted his arms and Owen stripped it off. “I watched a drop. Wanted to trace it with my tongue.” He trailed a finger around Adrian’s nipple. Adrian shivered and his stomach clenched. “You were so young.”

He palmed Owen’s cock. “Old enough to know then that I was attracted to you.” A smile played over his mouth remembering how hard his cock had been, and how he’d been so scared that someone would notice. That someone would figure out he was into guys. He’d been in high school. Maybe he had been too young then. He wasn’t now.

Adrian tugged on the snap of Owen’s jeans, peeled opened the denim and slipped his hand into the front, cupping the warm, swollen length of Owen’s cock.

“Oh, yes,” Owen said on a breath, covered Adrian’s hand with his own, and pressed hard into his palm.

Their lips met again as Adrian worked his fingers into the front of Owen’s tight sexy underwear. The kisses were divine. Tongues, lips, teeth. Adrian sucked and nibbled, eating at Owen’s mouth. Finally he had Owen’s hard heated shaft in his palm, his fingers curling around the girth. Pre-cum moistened the crown. With a gentle touch, Adrian traced the flared rim and followed the thick pulsing vein running the underside.

Adrian inched back. “I’m about to commit a lewd act in public.” He smiled as he slowly dropped to his knees.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Ten Inches

Ten Inches
AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
Gay, Contemporary
Ten Inches

To Purchase at Digi Books Cafe
To Purchase at Amazon Kindle
To Purchase at All Romance eBooks
To Purchase at Rainbow eBooks
To Purchase at 1Place for Romance eBooks
To Purchase at 1erotic eBook
To Purchase at BookStrand
To Purchase at Trapezium Books

Ten inches of snow has fallen…and so has Nick…for his sexy as hell best friend Ian. Nick would do anything for him…to him. Too bad Ian’s straight.
When a snowstorm strands them at the ski lodge, Nick and Ian choose to get a room. Can a cold day of snowboarding lead to a hot night between the sheets?


The heat in Ian’s eyes had Nick’s blood warming. Hot, chaotic pulses thrummed through his system. His cock was hard, his heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear surging adrenaline through his body.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Nick laughed. “Attraction isn’t hard to figure out.” He set the beer on the counter. The room closed in on him, narrowing until his only focus was Ian. The heavy, rapid breaths he drew. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Why are you nervous?” And Ian was. His fingers tapped against his thigh.

“Because every time I think about you, I sweat. I’ve always agreed with my dick. Big tits, blonde hair, you know me, I’m a man whore. And I love a nice ass.” Ian released a shuddering exhale and leaned against the wall. “But I guess about six months ago, something changed. I told myself my attraction to you was because we were spending too much time together. But then I only wanted to be with you more.” Ian thumped his head against the wall. “I admit I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m not gay, because I love women. But I can’t deny what I feel when I’m with you. I can’t pretend anymore.”

Nick stuffed his hands into his pockets. “So you suggest we strip, fuck around, spend the night together and then you’ll work the gay out of your system?”

Ian furrowed his brow. “No. I want to strip and fuck all night, sleep a bit, fuck again, rip some flake and then go home together.” Ian closed the space between them. “Label me gay if you want, although I don’t believe labels apply to us. If you had tits and a pussy, I’d still want to fuck you.”

Nick shuddered and took a step back. “Listen Ian, you know I’m attracted to you. Everyone is attracted to you.” The space behind the mini bar grew warm and tight. Just like he knew Ian’s ass would be.

“Do you want to fuck me?” There was no mischief, humor or innuendo in Ian’s request. The bluntly stated words had Nick’s cock fighting against the zipper of his boarding vent pants.

“No.” Anyone else, Nick would already have his pants down and his dick out. But he didn’t want to be some experimental fuck for Ian to discover his sexual orientation.


“Okay, you’re right. I think you’re hot. And yes, I’ve imagined sex between us.”

Ian picked up Nick’s beer, tipped it to his lips and took several long swallows. “Thinking about you beating off, as you think about me, gets me hot.” He stroked his hand up the beer, smearing the cold sweat from the bottle. “Then I have to beat off thinking about you.”

“Fuck, Ian. What do you expect me to do?” He knew what he wanted to do. Nick didn’t think his cock had ever been harder. Here was the opportunity he’d dreamed of. A day—perhaps the whole night—to fuck his best friend. To feel those full lips against his own. To suck his cock, touch his body…But what if after, regrets killed their friendship. Once they’d fucked, could they go back to being just friends? “I don’t want to be your first.”

Ian closed the space between them. “Nick, baby, you’re going to be my only.” He rested his hand on Nick’s skin-hugging, thermal shirt.

Nick grasped his hand. He stared hard into Ian’s eyes and slowly inched Ian’s hand down his torso, across his pectorals, on route to his groin. Nick’s abdominals quivered. Although, he guided Ian, Ian wasn’t fighting the direction. “Are you sure?”

Ian’s fingertips paused at the waistband of Nick’s pants. “Honestly, I’m not sure what scares me more. Following through…or stopping now.”