tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57627740436030952412024-03-13T13:34:18.420-06:00Deirdre DaresExperience Deirdre's Green Heat with excerpts and covers from her many erotic and erotic romance tales and chat about her writing and future releases!Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.comBlogger240125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-49279884101635705552018-10-14T11:20:00.002-06:002018-10-26T18:31:04.430-06:00Gothic thriller!Just in time for the spooky season, here is a new Deirdre O'Dare story that sticks pretty close to the classic Gothic themes of a mysterious dark hero and a remote castle or estate with dark secrets to hide. However instead of the normal spunky but innocent heroine, we have a similarly spunky and driven young man who takes a post as tutor for a recently deceased nobleman's orphaned children. Arriving there on what is truly a dark and stormy night, Martin soon finds himself immersed in a complex tangle of events and falling in love with the children's enigmatic guardian.<br />
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Get<b><i> Dark and Stormy</i></b> hot off the presses to get warmed up for seasonal reads. Here is a link for now, right on JMS Books front page. http://www.jms-books.com/ It is on sale right now for 20% off since it is a new release. After that it will be $3.99 (novella length) and you can locate it on my page:<br />
http://www.jms-books.com/deirdre-odare-m-191.html?zenid=kjLYFWnbTbz7xDr14bKF2<br />
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Here is the evocative cover so you can spot it quickly!<br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-60645096324660601392018-09-02T11:00:00.001-06:002018-09-02T11:00:31.600-06:00Coming Soon! New M/M romance from DeirdreI can't believe it is September already. That means 2/3 of 2018 is in the rear view mirror. I had to run off to Arizona on some personal business related to the Walton side of the family and have been trying to gather escaping worms from the hugnormous can I seemed to have opened. But that is not relevant here.<br />
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What is turns out to be the next new tale coming from JMS. <i>Rez Dogs and Scooter Trash</i> has not been billed as a canine cupid tale but with dogs in the title, you can bet they are a future in the story. I also pay a visit to a region that holds a special place in my heart and touch on the conflicts when men from two totally different cultures and backgrounds clash and connect. This one will release on September 8 and you can grab it at JMS <i><span style="color: blue;">http://www.jms-books.com/</span></i> It will be on the front page very soon for pre-order; the holiday may slow that down just a bit since. the September 1 releases still show there.<br />
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Mike grew up in the south, in poverty, and under the hard thumb of his abusive Biker Gang father. He fled, tried the military and decided that was not the life for him. However, some experiences led him to the often thankless task of animal rescue which in turn took him to a reservation in the high desert of Arizona. Needless to say, he has a near phobia about "bikers." When one rolls up almost to the door of his brand new animal rescue site...<br />
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Adam, Navajo and Kiowa, is a born rebel. He shows the world a bad-boy image with his lacquer black Harley decorated with native art and his habit of riding it hard and fast when he is upset. Feeling deep remorse over his younger brother's death while he was in the military, he's working hard to develop and improve a youth center to steer more of the local kids away from drugs, gangs and tragedy. When an outside group buys a vacant store he'd hoped to use for some more facilities, he has to go check it out. A small animal rescue? On <i>his</i> reservation? Are they crazy?<br />
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So let's see them meet:<br />
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Michael set another bundle of wire panels on
the floor and dug a bandana out of the back pocket of his jeans to wipe his
face. The wind had wolfish teeth, but he was still sweating as he humped load
after load of cage parts and other gear into the building. This was going to
take a lot of work, a hell of a lot of work. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Oh, the basic structure was sound, but it had
been designed to be a retail store, not a shelter for dogs and any other
critters he might be able to collect and save. There was a restroom--which
would have to suffice for his needs for the time being. Some moveable
partitions served to wall off a living area and a facsimile of an office. The
technician was supposed to be here later today to install his Internet and
telephone. He set up a battered iron cot and stacked the few boxes of his
personal stuff in that same corner. A microwave, an ice chest, and a card table
would serve as his kitchen and dining room. Maybe in time he could afford to
rent a place, but living here would have some advantages as he worked to get
the facility up and running. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">As he stumbled back out the door again, he
began to wonder how he'd crammed so much stuff into his old van. Maybe the
stuff had reproduced as he drove west from the IFPCA offices in Illinois.
Tomorrow, a bigger truck with yet more stuff was due in, so he had to get the
van unloaded today and at least start organizing things. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Something made him look across the unpaved
parking lot to the south side of the building. Later on he planned to fence
part of the area and maybe develop some space for larger animals like horses,
sheep and goats or cattle, but that would have to wait a while. But now,
although he had not heard the machine approach, his gaze fell on a powerful
black-lacquered Harley rolling slowly toward him decorated with tribal motifs
in scarlet and gold. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The bike was impressive, but its rider even
more so. The man had to be well over six feet for he straddled the bike and did
not stretch at all to place both his booted feet solidly on the ground on
either side. Everything about him seemed to carry a threat of power and
violence, at least to Michael's perception. Memories of the father he'd feared
until he'd finally left home swept over him, memories that still had him
mentally cringing. He could feel the slam of a heavy fist, a metal-studded belt
slashing across his ass or a backhand slap that sent him flying. Folks in his
hometown had called them scooter trash, trailer trash and worse because his
mother had been half black and his father a leader in the most bad-ass biker
gang in the area. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The uptown kids didn't respect the
wrong-side-of-the tracks folks, no matter how tough they were alleged to be, it
seemed. They sure didn't fear bullying the "trashy" kids anyway. And
Mike's dad would not defend him. "It'll make you tough," he'd always
said. "Man up, boy." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">While the stranger did not resemble the
senior Dufrane in any way other than his black garb, Michael's gut clenched.
Who was this guy--apparently an Indian--and what did he want? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Even behind the reflective lenses of the
biker's sunglasses, Michael could feel the force of the man's stare. He stood
there, one hand negligently resting on the left handlebar where a helmet hung,
clearly seldom used. After a moment, he lifted that arm and crossed both arms
across his powerful chest, his face impassive as if graven from the region's
ruddy stone. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"So," he said, after a few silent
seconds, "who the fuck is IFPCA and what are they or you figuring to do
here?" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Damn it, I am not going to let anyone
bully me or back me down. There are animals out here that need help, and I'm
going to do the job.</span></i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> Michael set his
burden down and took a step in the biker's direction. He paused, barely aware
he'd adopted a similar stance, feet apart and braced as he folded his arms
across his chest. It wasn't as impressive a chest as the other man's, but
Michael was no ninety-pound weakling. He had muscle and wiry strength. He'd
even been the boxing champ in his middleweight class in his army platoon. No
Indian biker with an attitude was going to send him running with his tail
between his legs. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"IFPCA stands for the International
Foundation for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The foundation's bought this
building, and I'm going to be opening a shelter for abused and neglected
animals, especially dogs, and care for them until they can be adopted into good
homes. I plan to help educate people about taking care of their pets,
too." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The biker gave a harsh laugh. "Good
luck, buddy. We don't have that warm and fuzzy tree hugger philosophy out here
on the Rez. It's enough struggle for most folks to keep a roof over their heads
and a little food on the table. We're overrun with dogs. Some get a little
care, while most just run wild and snag what they can. Hell, it's hard enough
to keep the kids fed and clothed, much less every stray canine. Booze and drugs
and a lot of prejudice to be overcome, poverty and... Oh shit, why waste my
breath? But we don't need any more do-gooders trying to tell us how to
live." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Michael recognized a subtle hint of despair
and pain behind the other man's hard words. He knew about poverty and the
ravages of drugs and alcohol himself--first hand. "I know things aren't
easy," he said, keeping his tone mild and even. "That's true a lot of
places. Still, I've heard about conditions on the Rez. Pretty bad. I guess it
isn't much, although if I can save a few dogs, maybe I can start a change.
Every bit of caring and kindness helps. It's never wasted. Someone sees how you
make things a little better and gets inspired to try their own effort. Maybe
some of the kids could benefit from taking responsibility for caring for a
pet." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The Indian shrugged. "Do what you will.
By the way, I'm Adam Bolt. Just wondered who'd got hold of the old Dollar Store
here and thought I'd take a look. We were thinking of trying to rent it cheap
for the youth center, to give us some more space, but looks like we got beat
out." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Sorry, but this is a good purpose, too.
My name's Mike Dufrane. I just got here yesterday. Lots of work to do. When you
believe in something enough, though, that's no barrier. It'll take me a couple
of weeks, but I'll be open for business as soon as I can. I'd appreciate it if
you'd spread the word; tell folks they can drop off an unwanted or injured dog
here. Even call me to come pick it up. I'll have a few cages set up today and I've
got food and some basic medical stuff." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"You're swimming against the current,
Mike, but good luck anyway." The other man throttled the bike up to a
smooth purring roar and wheeled around, scattering a bit of gravel as he turned
onto the paved road that went by out front. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-3729316016099742862018-08-17T09:45:00.000-06:002018-08-17T09:45:37.499-06:00Ready for Two More?I am not sure which books came out when from January through July but I'll get something about each of them before I am done! Today I'll get back to the dogs with<b><i> Burrito Belle's Gringo Guy</i></b> and <b><i>Doggone Love.</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOK0BGOklDD_Jm7xrGLkJokpUY13G2URJMu5u8QaJemdY0eqy92aohwBMvU8JA7g_eWUY5qG19KXcyliWKCo2aB8zxFkVM3L-sohwPpuFMjuSDfwyP7ArAaPjGYwIiAdIwaGBwyBQKTNY/s1600/doggonelove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOK0BGOklDD_Jm7xrGLkJokpUY13G2URJMu5u8QaJemdY0eqy92aohwBMvU8JA7g_eWUY5qG19KXcyliWKCo2aB8zxFkVM3L-sohwPpuFMjuSDfwyP7ArAaPjGYwIiAdIwaGBwyBQKTNY/s320/doggonelove.jpg" width="213" /></a><i>Doggone Love</i> was actually the first of my Canine Cupids group before I realized they would become a theme series. It grew out of a trip to the vet to put my late husband's sweet old Lab-Setter to sleep so she could go join her master and her canine buddy, Butch. They had both crossed over on the same day, almost three years earlier. The new vet at my regular clinic was a short husky blond who did have a slight attitude and a few weeks later he morphed into Eric Vann. Once I had the vet I needed the guy with an animal requiring urgent care and here came Damon, racing to town with his injured Dixie Belle.<br />
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Now the odd thing is, I had acquired one Aussie (Australian Shepherd) almost two years earlier to be Sadie's companion. Rico and she never bonded as she had with Butch but it helped her depression some to have a canine companion. Well, after she was gone and after this story was submitted or even released, I got another Aussie to be Rico's partner. What was her name? Belle! I later added to that calling her Belle Starr for she was a food bandit par excellence! Are there really coincidences? <b> ~ </b>(my Latina shrug) Who knows!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltV-YwmV7HvBjA53svZce5JuPtrHzFxgLpeBYJQgdRCoNZ_4THgz3Hk8pVLAotsShc8QcYq7Y3ZBp8C5Uxb6A8xhJ02KR2Wz6dXSdBDK2OTfgpvtCui6kQpZWdT565eEIfQZaIAnRscQ/s1600/red+aussie.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltV-YwmV7HvBjA53svZce5JuPtrHzFxgLpeBYJQgdRCoNZ_4THgz3Hk8pVLAotsShc8QcYq7Y3ZBp8C5Uxb6A8xhJ02KR2Wz6dXSdBDK2OTfgpvtCui6kQpZWdT565eEIfQZaIAnRscQ/s200/red+aussie.png" width="200" /></a>Anyway <i>Doggone Love</i> was a quick hit and a best seller at Amber Quill. I am so happy to have it available again. I am not finding the post but I could swear I did do an excerpt and back story on it here. Oh well. Here is the cover, anyway. Dixie Belle is described as a red merle Aussie but the connection between the guy and the dog is perfect in this picture! At right is a closer likeness to my vision of of Dixie Belle.<br />
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<i>Burrito Belle's Gringo Guy</i> is one that basically grew out of a quirky title idea. It was Taco Belle at first but not wanting to get in trouble with that chain, I switched to Burrito. LOL I actually like burritos better anyway! Of course border crossings and international drug dealing are major issues everywhere but especially down here in southern Arizona and New Mexico which share a whole bottom border with our southern neighbor. Somehow Juan just popped into my mind, a young man, running desperately but not too harried to rescue an abandoned little dog as he flees north toward kin in Albuquerque. By that act already one of the good guys, he is going to need a guardian, a kind of angel when the drug cartel thugs come after him. Voila, enter Troy, a business man in Albuquerque's bustling down town. Of course it's that now feisty little Chihuahua who plays cupid! Here you can meet Juan and the puppy who becomes Burrito Belle.<br />
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Excerpt:<br />
<b style="text-indent: 0in;">Prologue</b><br />
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<i>Cuidad El Paso, USA</i></div>
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<i>Late spring</i></div>
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<i>4:30 A.M.</i></div>
Juan Pablo Garcia y Calderon crept along the dark alley. He moved as quietly
as his feline counterparts who haunted the place. They slipped off ahead and
aside, silent as shadows, granting a fellow traveler passage. If the saints and
Mother Mary were kind, he’d evade those who pursued him. Approaching dawn
tinged the eastern horizon with the faintest hint of color, but in El Paso’s
bleakest <i>barrio,</i> the only colors were shades of gray.<br />
A slight sound halted his progress. A whimper, a whine, the merest whisper
of distress? <i>Where? What?</i> He stopped to listen with total concentration.
Again, there, just to his left. <i>Close.</i> He stooped to reach with a
careful hand, mindful of hidden dangers. Rags, tattered papers, and trash were
all his questing fingers found. Then…<i>Wait…</i>softness and a trace of
warmth. He groped deeper in the litter, finding a small body, merely thinly
furred skin stretched over fragile bones, but it stirred and gave off a trace
of living heat.<br />
The creature did not resist when he scooped it up. The fading darkness and
his night-tuned vision let him discern the color—pale tan—and the shape, head
too big for the small body with stick-like legs and large ears. A Chihuahua
puppy by the looks of it. He tucked the shivering little shape into his
sweatshirt and cradled it there with one hand as he pressed on, moving faster
now under the spur of urgency. He needed to be far from here before sunrise.<br />
<i>No time to dawdle now.</i> Albuquerque and the relative safety of Tio
Tomás’s home were still far away. Juan broke into a trot, trying to steady the
small dog against his body. He still scanned the area around him as he loped
along, alert for hazards and danger, but eager to leave the ugly reality of the
border city as far behind him as he could. He’d made it this far, and with
luck, he’d never return to Cuidad Juarez and its war-torn streets again. His
brief time there had almost cost him his life. He’d learned it had taken his
brother’s. Pedro had been working for the Federales undercover and someone had
caught onto him—that was the only thing Juan could figure.<br />
The puppy didn’t move as they headed toward safety. At the moment, he was
not even sure of the gender of the pup he’d found but its shivering had
stopped. Still he could feel the slight flutter of breath and heartbeat and
knew the little dog was alive. Saving it became almost as critical a need as
saving himself. They were two of a kind—throw-away refugees, devalued by the
unforgiving society that had made them outcasts and judged their lives of no
worth. Juan was tough. If the pup were equally so, they would make it.<br />
Sunrise found him in the northwest quadrant of the city, moving along the
Rio Grande, between it and the humming busy-ness of Interstate 25. Following
those two arteries would lead him eventually to Albuquerque. It was a long way
to walk, but he’d already come a longer way. A few more kilometers, even many,
were not too far to go for safety and a chance at tomorrow.<br />
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<!--[endif]--></span></b>Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-3514988765742538682018-08-11T14:26:00.004-06:002018-08-11T14:26:59.597-06:00Like Meanwhile Back at the Ranch...Okay, let 's go back to some of the stories that have been released in between <i>Dude Ranch Nights</i> and <i>Homeless in Heaven</i>! I did not realize just how out of the loop I had been--much closer to merely existing than living for awhile with the issues I went into more over at the 4Ds blog. (http://deirdre-fourds.blogspot.com) That's just my chatty one with memoirs, poems, family history and all sorts of other stuff that may or may not interest readers here. Anyway back to Deirdre O'Dare's republished gay romances!<br />
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I am not sure of the release dates on these but they are all on the JMS catalog now and can be found on my page, http://www.jms-books.com/deirdre-odare-m-191.html?zenid= 62b9tECQvobSJ2QiUg6qd1<br />
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<b><i>The Chap in Chaps</i></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">In 1910, Charles Smythe inherits a ranch from his late uncle. With some misgivings about leaving his life in England, he finally arrives in Arizona Territory only to meet one of his employees, an experienced hired hand named Sombra. In Sombra, Charles finds not only the perfect man to teach him all he needs to know about ranching, but also the masterful lover he has always craved. Can he build a real relationship this time, especially with a man so different?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; outline: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">As a youth, Sombra fled his New England home in disgrace when his first homosexual affair become public knowledge. Upon arriving in Arizona, he found employment with Dabney Darwin, Charles's uncle, and the kindly English expatriate fashioned him into the son he never had. But when Dab's nephew arrives to assume ownership of the property, Sombra is not sure how to take young Charles. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Yet he soon discovers that "taking Charles" is exactly what they both need ... and desperately desire.</span><div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not sure where this one came from to be honest. Again I think the title was the trigger that got my mind into that 'what if" loop. So that means the "chap" was the first character to step out and introduce himself, voila, Charles. I have a sort of fascination with 'men in black' somber, grim and slightly mysterious men, so Sombra emerged soon to let me know he was the right man to teach young Charles the western ways. BTW Sombra is "shadow" in Spanish which is not quite my second language but one very prevalent in New Mexico and Arizona. Although Sombra is not Latino, I do often have Latino characters; they are part of the scene here. This is a spicy one and also filled with some outdoor adventures. Are those not Deirdre's stock in trade? BTW I love the cover, another of Trace Zaber's great ones. The background is <i>perfect</i> and looks just like the actual area in Arizona that I used to set the story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> <b>Wrenching</b></i>:<span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5O2q2vhzplefrXQQmASx0Yq_LgRApXlAPicS4kvOcmT6gtSmcESuyEcvMsg9jaW66bKFNyPy6wyhDMvj5_XAQPEQpCgEHUtPJzt8XBDWkI1vwMILBWunlrgnb5psj2uIkdhpNz7G9IrE/s1600/wrenching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="560" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5O2q2vhzplefrXQQmASx0Yq_LgRApXlAPicS4kvOcmT6gtSmcESuyEcvMsg9jaW66bKFNyPy6wyhDMvj5_XAQPEQpCgEHUtPJzt8XBDWkI1vwMILBWunlrgnb5psj2uIkdhpNz7G9IrE/s200/wrenching.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Mal has not had an easy life. He’s struggled to overcome a lot of roadblocks and hardships as he built himself a life as a mechanic, despite a serious handicap. He’s admired rancher Dan from afar but never dreamed events would play out to land him in the amazing spot of being able to do a real service for his secret hero. Can he maintain his cool and a safe distance when they’re sharing a house and working to resolve a dangerous mystery?</span></div>
<br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; outline: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Ubuntu, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Dan says he does not have employees but friends who help him run the ranch he inherited from his father. Challenged by his younger step-brother and facing dangerous sabotage to his truck, he enlists a young mechanic to help solve the puzzle. He’d always wanted a real brother or a partner he could trust but his step-brother is not the right guy to fill that role. How about Mal, who brings some fine but rare qualities to the Flying W?</span><div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This one started as part of a themed set we did at Amber Quill long ago, all somehow linked to a garage! Love stories in a garage? Are mechanics romantic figures? So the challenge was to make it work! Mal appeared first, the mechanic for the story and let me know about his tough youth and his injury. I had to admire his spunk, determination and grit. It was no stretch that he might hero-worship a good looking well-off man who was a customer of his boss's shop. A 'cowboy' or in this case a rancher who turned out not to have the ideal life Mal imagined. T</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14px;">hey both talked to me as the story unfolded--danger, adventure, a bit of mystery and a slowly building case of attraction and sexual tension! To get the mystery solved and find how it all ends, read the story! As to the cover, who can resist a good looking young man with a big tool??</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14px;">Next time we'll go to the dogs again as my beloved and always popular Canine Cupid tales, some part of the original group and some not, are making a new appearance. Happy late summer relaxing. Get a tall cool one and find a nice beach or a shady patio and start reading!</span></div>
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-32587101125034887102018-08-05T21:11:00.000-06:002018-08-11T14:34:49.365-06:00A Brand New Release I'm going to jump over several and give a shout out on my new JMS book that just came out this weekend.<br />
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This one like many stories basically started from the title which just popped into my head and started the what if notions going. "Homeless in Heaven" The irony and the dichotomy got me.<br />
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I set it in Colorado where I lived two different times and a bit of Colorado Springs wound up in Eden, Colorado. I'm not sure where Merl came from although I do have a great deal of sympathy for vets who come home to bad news and do not get the welcome and care they deserve. Such men deserve a special angel and that's where Nate came in. He too just suddenly showed up and the two men proceeded to share their storiess with me and revealed how their two individual tales slowly merged and intertwined. <i>Homeless in Heaven</i> is a heartfelt story for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFJ5jt0bFCVQ1Stt5xqViT3CFcMY65LtDtw131WINTdvOCbqeOeu5a_nmzx4NsGAMkonAOopgRTu4A9lz8NAVpTfufbA4o-qcHEYZo6zSm2uuas0GraPcvd4ov8AZFiolMOfe2Fq04VE/s1600/homelessinheaven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="560" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFJ5jt0bFCVQ1Stt5xqViT3CFcMY65LtDtw131WINTdvOCbqeOeu5a_nmzx4NsGAMkonAOopgRTu4A9lz8NAVpTfufbA4o-qcHEYZo6zSm2uuas0GraPcvd4ov8AZFiolMOfe2Fq04VE/s200/homelessinheaven.jpg" width="133" /></a>It is on sale as a new release at JMS. Here is the link: https://www.jms-books.com/erotic-romance-c-29_94/homeless-in-heaven-p-2475.html?zenid=8iTSFd-aggFquZIOFj93g0<br />
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I like the cover. That is not Nate walking away but an example of how so many treat someone who is down and out. Merl would probably not hang his head in public but he was feeling very alone and even more needy than he quite realized when he met Nate. <span id="goog_1845288833"></span><br />
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Last but not least, a short excerpt so you can meet both men!<br />
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<div style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i>Late November</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<i>Eden, Colorado</i></div>
Merl Weishart hefted the lumpy black bag and settled it on his shoulder.
About thirty pounds. Even at the current prices for aluminum, oughta be enough
for a hot meal.<br />
He’d collected soda cans for over a week to fill the bag. With the bite of
the north wind ahead of an approaching cold front, a hot meal would be good,
almost necessary.<br />
Smartest thing would be to buy the food and fix it himself. Still, it would
be nice to sit inside at a table to eat for a change. The makeshift stove in
his camp cooked, but not very well, and he had no table, much less a chair.
Juggling a tin plate on his knees made mealtime awkward. The tent and tarps
he’d rigged for his shelter cut the wind some, but from now until spring,
warmth was going to be a stranger to him.<br />
Since this would be his second winter in the homeless camp straggling along
Goldrush Creek, he knew what to expect: cold and more cold. There would be lots
of days when all he could do was huddle in his old army sleeping bag and wait
for the snow to stop and the blizzard winds to die down. Cold was bad, but wind
and getting wet made it worse. A man could freeze. Some did. Several had died
in the camp last year. Although he wasn’t sure why, he chose to survive if
there was any way he could. Surrender, quitting, giving up, and death were not
options.<br />
<i>Damned if I know what I’m living for, but life still feels better than
death. Maybe someday I’ll figure out why.</i><br />
He settled the bag into an easy balance and started off at a brisk pace. The
recycle place down on VanAlwyn Street was a good two miles away, so no use
poking along. The sooner he got there, the sooner he’d have a few dollars in his
pocket and the means to get that meal.<br />
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*
* * *</div>
Nathan Bloom turned the furred collar of his down parka up around his neck
against the biting wind.<br />
<i>I’m certifiable, coming out when I could be home in a cozy house. But the
light today with these broken clouds is perfect. It’ll set off the starkness of
the camp and the pathos of the situation. I ought to be able to get some great
photos.</i><br />
He shifted the classic Nikon and the Canon digital cameras that hung around
his neck, gloved hands a bit clumsy in the effort. To actually use the cameras
the gloves would have to come off, but he’d wait until he was ready to shoot
before he removed them. Otherwise, his hands would be too stiff to operate the
controls.<br />
Looking ahead, his gaze probed down the path meandering along the creek
under disordered platoons of towering trees, now leafless. The stark, barren
shapes added to the bleak mood. He snapped a couple of fast shots in hopes of
capturing the feeling. When he looked back at the path, he checked the stride
he was about to make.<br />
His gut clenched with brief anxiety at the sight of the man who approached
him. The fellow looked like a grizzly bear or a gorilla in mismatched cold
weather clothes. The first item was a hugely bulky parka, mostly red with
patches of other colors scattered here and there. The pants might once have
been blue, but now were a dull gray-brown, as if coated with grease and soot. A
ragged wool cap striped in red and dirty white topped his head. Twigs and wisps
of rich brown hair poked out from under it, hair that matched the tangled beard
hiding most of the man’s face. He carried a bulging bag on one shoulder,
probably one of those heavy-duty black construction-weight trash bags.<br />
On second thought, the man really did not look threatening, just rough and <i>very</i>
big. Nate drew his gloves off and readied a camera. When the man drew close
enough, he spoke a greeting.<br />
“Hello. Not the greatest day, is it? Would it be all right if I take your
picture?”<br />
The big man halted, a quizzical expression crossing the visible part of his
face. “Me? Why would you want a picture of me?”<br />
“I’m working on a photo-journalism piece about our local homeless camps and
the people in them. You look like a unique member of the camp residents, maybe
a leader? Not many of them display the vitality or size you carry.”<br />
The big man shrugged. “Nope, hardly a leader. Kind of a loner, I guess. Oh,
I’ll try and help if somebody’s being bullied by other campers or hassled by
the cops, but mostly I keep to myself. If you want a picture, though, I don’t
care.”<br />
Nate raised the Nikon and snapped a couple of pictures, centering the man’s
bulk against the glowering clouds piling up to the north. Then he got a couple
of shots with the digital.<br />
“What’s your name?” he asked, more to buy a few more minutes than from an
actual desire to know.<br />
“Merl.”<br />
“Just Merl?”<br />
The man shrugged again. “That’s all there is of it anymore. Used to have two
names and even a title of sorts in front of them, but that was in another life.
How about you?”<br />
“My name’s Nate Bloom. I live here in Eden, about a mile to the west.” He
held out a hand before he put his gloves back on. The big man wasn’t wearing
gloves. He shifted the bag to his left shoulder and met Nate’s offered clasp.<br />
“Pleased to meet you, Nate.” Although the big man’s hand felt cold, a
strange sizzle of energy still zipped up Nate’s arm from the contact. He noted
the other man did not squeeze hard, although the clasp felt firm and positive. <i>Well,
you wouldn’t expect a limp shake from such a bear of a man, would you?</i><br />
“I need to be getting along,” Merl said. “Gotta get these cans sold down at
Kardamian’s Recycling today. You be careful, Nate. Most of the folks here are
okay, but there are a few rotten apples—they’d shove you in the creek to take
your coat, maybe try to rip off those cameras to pawn.”<br />
Nate saw what seemed to be genuine concern in the other man’s deep-set dark
eyes. “I’ll be watchful,” he said. “I’ve been down here quite a bit and never
had any trouble.”<br />
He thought of mentioning he had a permit and carried a small handgun in a
concealed holster, but decided against that. It was nobody’s business whether
or not he could defend himself. Still, the big man’s advice and apparent care
warmed him. The people he’d met here in the camp never ceased to amaze him, in
ways both good and shocking. Few fit the stereotype of folks lacking ambition
or education, maybe dragged down by drugs or alcohol. Oh, there were some of
them, of course, but the population held great diversity.<br />
<br />
Most of them had a story, too. Maybe in time he’d get to know Merl better,
enough to learn his tale. He sensed the big man had to have one because he
spoke with an educated accent and reflected a quiet dignity, despite the total
indignity of his present life.<br />
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<br />Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-68137536631903118872018-08-03T21:11:00.000-06:002018-08-03T21:11:25.575-06:00New books since January 1The last release I really discussed was Dude Ranch Nights, which came out back in 2017. Althogh it has not been quite one a month, a lot of Deirdre O'Dare tales are again available. I mentioned the Amazon Kindle effort last fall and this has continued. Most of the future releases will also be included in this program.<br />
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<i>Guilty By Innocence</i> came out on December 31, so it just barely hit in 2017. It tells the story of an unlikely pair, a vice detective in El Paso, TX and a young man who is found at the scene of a brutal mass murder, apparently the work of a drug cartel related gang. The young man, Gabe, has lost his memory but Jax, the cop, soon recognizes the likelihood he is guilty is very slight.<br />
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Here is the prologue which gives you a glimpse of this harshly realistic story although I guarantee it has a happy ending. It is a gay romance, after all! Here is the cover--very similar to the original.<br />
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<b>Prologue</b></div>
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<i>El Paso, TX</i></div>
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<i>Late Fall</i></div>
Cold. Pain. Floating and yet so heavy. Sensory details flooded his mind, but
they only confused him.<br />
<i>Where am I? What’s happened?</i><br />
He realized then that odors were the most insistent cue. Hot, metallic—the
raw, thick scents of fresh blood and terror<i>.</i><br />
<i>Holy Mother, what’s happened?</i><br />
Sticky moisture seemed to coat his skin, growing crustier by the minute. The
fingers of his right hand clenched around something hard, solid. His hand hurt,
but he could not let go. He clutched it with unremitting urgency. Next, he
heard a low, anguished moan followed by the building scream of sirens.<br />
Then the scariest question of all entered his mind:<i> Who am I?</i><br />
He could not come up with a name or even a single trace of an identity.
Before utter terror overcame him, he let the dark weight of silence close over
him like water.<br />
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<b><br />
Chapter 1</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<i>A Few Minutes Later</i></div>
Jackson Byrne “Jax” McDermott pulled his unmarked car to the curb, cut the
ignition, and stepped out. 3150 Rincon Street was ablaze with lights and
starting to swarm with action. The first responders had begun to arrive. He
watched four EMTs led by their sergeant, Delia Maldonado, unload from their
ambulance, which had pulled in behind his car.<br />
Before they went to work, he needed to view the scene. From the sound of the
call, they’d probably just be picking up pieces anyway. Two uniforms were
already stretching yellow crime scene tape around the simple, boxy, typical
tract house on the sprawling city’s northeast side. Jax stepped across one tape
band and headed for the open front door, which hung off a single hinge.<br />
Mickey Finnegan, one of the newest rookies on the EPPD, came charging out.
He skidded to a stop and then puked into the arbor vitae to the left of the
cement stoop.<br />
Jax looked at the young cop with a trace of sympathy. He’d been there once.
“Bad, huh?”<br />
Micky coughed and gagged before he replied. “Yeah. Real bad.”<br />
Edging past the green-faced rookie, Jax went inside the house. With ten
years as a cop behind him—six on the street and four as a detective—broken by a
tour in the Middle East with the National Guard, there wasn’t much he hadn’t
seen. He’d deal with it. He stopped two steps inside, blinked, and began to
breathe in shallow pants through his mouth. You could cut the stench with a
knife—blood, puke, piss, fear and death. There might have been a place
somewhere when he’d seen that much blood, but he couldn’t recall it. The whole
room seemed to have been painted red. He counted six bodies.<br />
Delia came up behind him. He held out a hand, halting her for a moment.
“They look like coroner cases,” he said. “Give me a minute and then you can do
your thing.”<br />
He did a quick mental count—an older man against the far wall, a middle-aged
woman two steps to the man’s right, a young woman with her arms extended toward
a kid, apparently a boy maybe four or five. Gaping throats slashed open,
still-seeping gashes on limbs and torsos. They all must have struggled,
resisting to no avail. An infant, just beyond the boy. <i>Whoa.</i>
Unbelievably, the kid moved and made a faint mew like an injured kitten.<br />
Delia shoved past him. He let her. He managed to draw a fast sketch of the
scene in his notebook to show the small form’s spot on the sticky floor as the
EMTs worked. When his gaze skidded to the last body, he went dead still. From
the blood-crusted face of an apparent corpse, two eyes stared at him, eyes
holding a clear and unmistakable shine of life and awareness. No gashed throat
on that one, either. He was definitely still alive. The eyes blinked shut, as
if the man knew he’d been made. Jax grabbed his camera and snapped a couple of
fast shots.<br />
Delia and her team bundled up the infant to evacuate it. As she started past
him, following one of her crew with the baby, Jax halted her.<br />
“Del, that one’s alive, too.” He pointed.<br />
She stopped. Her glance whipped around to the last body, apparently a young
man.<br />
<i>Sixth victim?</i> But wait, in one blood-painted hand, he clenched the
rough wooden handle of a two-foot long machete, the wide blade streaked black
with blood.<br />
“You can take him as soon as I mark the placement of the body, but tell the
ER crew he doesn’t go <i>anywhere</i> until they hear from me. He could be the
perp, and I’m not taking any chances. Save his clothes, too, and anything else
you or the ER staff find on him. I’ll get hold of Nat at the ME’s office and
see if she can meet you at the hospital to get blood samples and anything else
she can while it’s fresh.”<br />
Del nodded. She knew the drill. These days, crime scene pickups were a
regular part of her team’s routine. El Paso had become a war zone. Like Jax and
a number of others on the force and in the first responders, she’d been in the
military in the Middle East. None of them had seen anything worse while they
were over there.<br />
It only took a couple of minutes before the EMTs were back with a gurney.
Eight careful hands lifted the young man’s body from the floor. If he was still
conscious, he played possum like a champ, but the slow rise and fall of the
bloody, tattered T-shirt across his chest proved he still lived.<br />
Once the ambulance shrieked away, Jax took out his camera once more and
began to snap pictures. There wasn’t much in the way of physical evidence to
collect—except for the savaged bodies and blood. There was plenty of that. Jax
knew two crime lab techs would be there any minute to go to work on the wet
evidence.<br />
When he finished at the house, Jax drove over to St. Martin’s Hospital. Not
that he didn’t trust both Delia and Nat to do their jobs, but he’d learned
better than to leave anything to chance. Over the years, he’d seen too many
guilty fucking bastards get off on technicalities and sloppy police work. He’d
be damned if one would skate because of his failures.<br />
<br />Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-81139783047594340032018-08-02T18:27:00.000-06:002018-08-11T14:36:23.782-06:00Arising from the Near-Dead?I did not realize how long it has been. Turns out I have taken a much longer sabbatical than I planned or anticipated. I was going to do a short break in my usual down time from around December 1 until that midway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox which falls in early February. As the Scots poet Burns put it, "The best laid plann of mice and men gang aft aglee." Mine sure did!<br />
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Right after the first of January, we had to have our oldest dog put down. She was really my brother's but we share a home and she'd been part of my clan for quite awhile since I moved in with them on April 1, 2009! We think Beebee had some kind of internal cancer but she had been failing for awhile and attempted treatments were not doing much good. When she stopped eating and got 'that look' in her eyes, we knew it was time. The other four moped and missed her for a bit but soon closed ranks and moved on.<br />
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Our next issue was a really nasty case of the flu. Despite having had the shots--they finally admitted the vaccine was less than 40% effective!--we got sick, majorly sick. Never had to go to the hospital but took every home remedy in the book and drank lots of hot lemonade and rum toddies to dampen the awful croupy cough enough to sleep some. It hung around for a good month and left us feeling totally trashed. Then as a follow up, I got some kind of a digestive problem and ate little to nothing for about three weeks and did not dare get too far from the facilities. Peppermint oil finally calmed my innards and I've used it ever since as it also keeps my intermittent IBS at bay quite well.<br />
<br />
So now it is March and I go for my belated annual eye exam. Yes, I am still battling the dry eye and allergy eye issues but I also learned that I was ripe for cataract surgery! My doctor tried valiantly to ease the dry eyes as much as possible with a variety of ideas--more time passed--but the surgeon finally decided to go ahead so I had the two eyes done on May 3 and May 17. That was an adventure also. My right eye did fine and is now 20-20 except for close up, the normal cataract removal 'cure' for myopia ,but the left one was worse on both myopia and astigmatism so I find I still have to have correction there. Actually I do not mind--trying to keep track of readers and get used to no close vision was driving me nuts! I got my new glasses in mid June and then had a really bad allergic conjunctivitis spell. Finally as the summer rainy season started with an increases in humidty, I can actually see clearly most of the time!<br />
<br />
That being the case I have crawled out of my den like the groundhog and looked around. What, it's summer? You mean 2018 is over half gone? Yikes! Anyway, despite my semi-absence, things have been moving along.<br />
<br />
My wonderful new publisher, JMS Books, has been steadily reissuing my favorite stories from the old Amber Quill library. Loose Id, which had begun to reissue my popular Canine Cupid tales in groups of two republished with one new story announced their closure early this year and my rights were returned in late spring so those also will now be at JMS. I've got lots of new covers to share and I'll be doing that shortly.<br />
<br />
One more installment in my "Perils of Pauline" year was the total crash of my computer about three weeks ago. With all the other issues I had failed to do the backups, even had not copied a lot of things to my flash drives, so I lost a lot. We're shopping around some of the data recovery firms to see if we can find one that I can afford and maybe send the old hard drive away and hope I can get a bunch of photos and writing projects back in a usable form but no guarantees. Among them were the first scenes for two new canine cupid stories, one historical and one contemporary. I am trying to reconstruct them in my mind and then get some words down again but it is like pulling hen's teeth.<br />
<br />
Anyway, more than enough whines. Actually I am not whining as I know the old hippie saying is true. Yes, shit does happen! Sometimes it just comes in bunches like grapes and you have to deal with it, meanwhile hoping the current run of catastrophes has finally reached the end! Please join me in a fervent prayer to whatever Deities you trust and put faith in that this will prove true!<br />
<br />
However you cannot keep an ornery and feisty old Welsh-Irish tale-weaver down so stay tuned and I will do my best to provide regular installments on the creative endeavors of me and my alter ego. Yes, Gwynn Morgan is still around too and trying to resurrect the idea to getting her novels out in new forms via Smashwords and bringing her long-delayed Copper Stars of Cochise trilogy to an end with the third never completed tale!<br />
<br />
What, no pictures? Hmm. Okay--my two canines deserve a view since they are part of the inspiration for future Canine Cupid stories. Behold, Rojito and Ginger in repose. And the late Beebee, about a year ago before her decline was too serious<br />
.<br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-60212890838617477562017-11-18T19:21:00.001-07:002017-11-18T19:21:45.487-07:00Dude Ranch Nights--New Deirdre O'Dare WorkI'm delighted that JMS has decided to release a few hetero erotic romance tales and that my Novella Dude Ranch Nights is one of them. In fact as of today, it is available. Here is a link. https://www.jms-books.com/general-c-36/dude-ranch-nights-p-2211.html?zenid=DarPSHLdU8KeV55WaxXtH0<br />
<br />
And I will follow that with a blurb, an excerpt and the cover.<br />
<br />
Blurb: <span style="font-size: 11pt;">When New York socialite
Carole “C.J.” VanDemont loses the uncle with whom she went adventuring life
looks bleak and dull. Then an ad sends her to Arizona to visit La Riata guest
ranch and experience wilderness adventures with guide and rancher Cameron
Greenway. In Cam she finds everything she imagined and more. He puts a whole
new twist on adventure for her until she becomes helplessly addicted to his
brand of excitement. Must and can she return to the staid life awaiting her?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Excerpt: (The opening two scenes) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
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<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Demont-Delft Estate, <br />
Newburgh, New York</span></i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> <br />
April 7, 1953 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Carole Janine VanDemont, C.J. to her friends,
crossed the exquisite Aubusson carpet with quick, choppy strides. She paused
before one tall window to stare out over the rolling grounds of the family
estate, which extended to the distant river, a branch of the Hudson. Tinted a
soft green by the fresh spring foliage, with a hint of scattered pastels, the
scene reflected pastoral peace. Instead of providing inspiration or comfort,
the familiar view seemed bland and dull. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"What does one do when, at twenty-six,
there are absolutely no new worlds to conquer?" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Although her question was rhetorical, her
brother Michael answered it anyway. "Why, one either seeks to discover new
worlds or rests on one's laurels, I expect, sis. Life isn't that boring, is
it?" His lifted eyebrow echoed the mocking tone of his words. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">She shrugged, an irritable twitch of her
right shoulder. "Oh, I don't know. I'm just out of sorts, I suppose. It
was most inconsiderate of Uncle Rene to kill himself just when we were planning
the trip to India. I was counting on riding elephants, perhaps shooting a tiger
this year. Daddy would never think of such a trek, and he'd have apoplexy if I
went alone. What shall I do instead?" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"You sound as if Uncle Rene crashed his
plane on purpose or out of spite. I thought you were fond of the fellow." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I was. His death left me devastated.
Now don't misunderstand, but had we not been related, I could've happily
married the man. He's the only person who's ever challenged me." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"But he happened to be Mom's
black-sheep, younger half-brother, so that was out of the question. Too
bad." Michael, home from Harvard on spring break, flopped into a chair. He
picked up a magazine and began to leaf through the pages. He stopped, mid-flip,
perusing one page more intently. "How about an Arizona dude ranch vacation?
Here's an advertisement. Sounds fascinating to me." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">He tossed the magazine to C.J. as she stalked
by, pacing the confining limits of the elegant but comfortable den. She caught
it with a supple twist of her wrist, scarlet nails flashing in the light of the
lamp by which he'd been reading. "Surely you jest. Riding old nags along
bridle paths in the desert instead of Central Park, and eating beans around the
camp fire? I might as well go on that cruise with Grandmère." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Still she scanned the ad, stopping her
restless motion as she read... <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Adventure
of a lifetime!</span></i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> <br />
<i>Hunt savage, illusive wild animals in the rugged southwest. </i></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><i>Camp in sites
made famous by Zane Grey and John Ford in books and films.</i> <br />
<i>Relax and enjoy the modern comforts of La Riata Ranch </i></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><i>or rough it he-man
fashion in the wilderness.<br />
The choice is yours. <br />
Contact Cameron Greenway, YA7-5635 or P.O. Box 1727, Verdell, Arizona.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">There were also photographs. One showed a
rustic, two-story lodge-style building constructed of rounded stones bonded with
cement. The big house was surrounded by smaller cabins of comparable
construction and a grove of towering, wide-leafed trees. Another showed several
saddled horses hitched to the rails of a massive log corral. The one that
caught C.J.'s eye featured a man, uncommonly tall, unless the horse at his side
was pony-sized. He wore cuffed jeans with cowboy boots, a wide-brimmed hat, and
a shirt with elaborate embroidered yokes. He seemed to be looking straight at
the camera--or the reader--his piercing pale eyes casting a hypnotic spell.
Though unsmiling, his craggy, handsome face stole her breath. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">C.J. sucked in a quick gulp of air. <i>Oh my,
now that's quite a man. He looks like he belongs in a movie with John Wayne or
perhaps Gary Cooper--a real cowboy. Can he be Mr. Greenway or a mere employee? </i>All
at once she was determined to find out. If it took a trip to Arizona, at least
that would beat sitting here at home dying of <i>ennui.</i> Striding to the
shiny walnut desk in one corner of the room, she picked up the telephone to
place a long distance call. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Three days later, she boarded the train to
head west, not sure what she would find there, but feeling a tickle of
excitement for the first time in weeks. With a small sigh, she settled back in
her Pullman compartment to pass the leisurely trip. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">* * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Cameron Greenway paced the bricked platform
between the Santa Fe Depot and the nearest track. His boot heels beat a sharp
rhythm on the hard surface with his restless strides. Due in soon, the Super Chief
was already a few minutes late. He glanced at his watch, frowning. At this rate
it would be dark by the time they got back to the ranch. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">He'd driven to town to pick up a client, one
C.J. VanDemont. Mr. VanDemont had a strange voice, low and husky, but something
about it had bothered him. Well, people often sounded peculiar on the
telephone. The connection had not been the best. Anyway, the man indicated he
wanted the full package--a ten-day adventure with camping, hunting and some
side trips for scenic photography. That Cam could do. He had no false modesty
about the quality and level of adventures he provided. He'd perfected just the
right mixture of luxury and rustic atmosphere to please almost any well-heeled
guest. He tailored the degree of roughing it to each client's abilities and
desires once he met them in person. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Although he affected the image of a rough,
unschooled cowboy, Cam was a graduate of Yale and the scion of an upper crust
family. Even if his parent's current wealth came from mines and ranches in
Wyoming and New Mexico, both of them had roots in the bluest blood of the
eastern seaboard. The family's black sheep, he had gone his own way to build
his life in its unique mold. The role of guide, outfitter and dude-rancher
suited him to a "T." He played the rugged outdoorsman to the hilt and
actually lived that life as much as was possible in the modern era. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The sharp blast of the diesel's horn alerted
him to the train's imminent arrival. He stepped back from the track as the
sleek silver, red and yellow locomotives swept past him, slowing to a stop with
a shriek of steel on steel. Several passengers alighted, but none Cam could
identify as C.J. VanDemont. <i>Damn, did I make this trip in vain? I'm sure the
man said he'd arrive today.</i> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">At that moment, a modishly dressed young lady
approached him. Tall for a woman, she carried herself with arrogant grace.
Honey-blonde hair fell in shoulder-length waves to brush the bottle green yoke
of her masculine-cut suit jacket. A matching pencil slim skirt outlined
pleasing curves of hip and derrière. Black high-heeled pumps accentuated her
trim ankles and well-turned calves beneath the skirt's hem. Full,
scarlet-painted lips curved into a smile as she tilted her head, studying him. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"You look just like your picture,"
she said. "Would you happen to be Mr. Cameron Greenway?" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">As he nodded, he registered several facts at
once. First, it was the same voice, low pitched but definitely not masculine.
Second, this lady was one gorgeous female, and last, he was knee deep in
trouble if she really was C. J. VanDemont. Why in the world would a woman like
this want to rough it Arizona style? She had socialite written all over her. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Yes, I am. And you're C. J. VanDemont?
I wasn't expecting a lady." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">She laughed, the sound carrying so much raw
sexual energy his whole body tightened. <i>Gods help me, this woman is
short-fused dynamite!</i> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I know." She lowered her lids
demurely, shielding vivid green eyes for a moment, then offered a pretty smile,
but quite artificial. "I was almost sure you didn't realize I was female,
but that's okay. Yes, I really do want to rough it. I've been on safaris in
Africa, a trip to Alaska, across the Gobi, and several similar treks. This year
was supposed to be India and the Himalayas, but my uncle, Rene-Paul Dubois, got
himself killed in a plane crash, which put an end to that. He was the
adventurous relative with whom I've enjoyed many travels. In his absence, I
anticipated a frightful and boring spring, but then your ad caught my eye. Here
I am." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">For a long moment Cam studied her, while his
mind whirled in a frantic spin, trying to come to terms with the notion of
being alone in the woods with this amazing vision. Could she be as bold and
daring as she presented herself to be? What kind of adventures did she expect
to enjoy? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Well, I aim to please. Entertaining this
woman well might be worth much more than the normal fees I charge for my
services. I see some distinct possibilities here.</span></i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">He'd taken a few couples out for hunts and
camping, but more often, if a couple booked a holiday, the lady stayed at the
ranch while her husband went on the hunt or camping and photographic
expedition. He'd installed a swimming pool, located a few gentle nags anyone
could ride and hired help who knew how to keep "dudes" entertained.
But a lady on her own who wanted the full experience--this was going to be a
first. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Well, Miss VanDemont, we need to get
your luggage and start for the ranch. It'll be dark before we get there
anyway." <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">With an elegant wave, she indicated a couple
of bags sitting on the platform not far from where they stood. "That's it.
I know enough to travel light. If I were going on a cruise, it would be
different, but I find them incredibly tedious. Shuffle-board and dining at the
captain's table? Please, I'm not a fifty-year-old fossil! And by the way,
please call me C.J. I hate to answer to 'miss.'" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Cam collected the two bags and tossed them
into the truck. Then he handed C.J. into the passenger seat, circled the cab to
slide behind the wheel and headed his new Ford pickup down the highway. He had
the distinct feeling he could be in for the adventure of a lifetime himself.
This lady was a looker, for sure. She could stand in for Veronica Lake or Lana
Turner any day and nobody would miss them. She radiated sex appeal along with
the scent of Arpege that wafted with her every move. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">By God, I'll show her adventure if that's
what she wants. And if she has other kinds of sport in mind, I can handle that
as well.</span></i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-6693201121424270682017-11-18T19:01:00.002-07:002017-11-18T19:05:28.357-07:00Dude Ranch Nights--story behind the storyAs most of you know, JMS has been strictly an LGBT publisher from its inception. However, they are now expanding a bit to offer some 'regular' fiction to include some M/F erotic romances. I'm thrilled to be able to announce my novella, <i>Dude Ranch Nights,</i> which has been out of print for some time, is one of this beginning batch of tales. It was released today!<br />
<br />
I do want to remind my readers that the story is set in the early 1950s and I tried to be completely true and authentic to that time frame as I wrote it. Therefor some things that are not politically correct now are going to happen, even some things a few readers may find upsetting or offensive. I do no intentionally offend or upset anyone but since I majored in History when I was in school, I have some strong feelings about remaining authentic and never rewriting what was real to mollify anyone's 2017 sensibilities. You cannot change what was and pretending will not make it go away or cease to have occurred!! That being said, let's go into a bit of background for this story.<br />
<br />
At the period, when I was only a very small child, "Dude Ranches" were a big fad. Some were very tame and genteel but others catered to more adventurous and thrill-seeking clientele. My dad was good friends with a man who ran just such a place. Dad went along on a number of dangerous and exciting hunts and expeditions. His tales of them piqued my interest--little pitchers with big ears!--and as I approached my teens, I developed a large crush of Mr Greenough, who was the guide and proprietor. He had the reputation for being quite a ladies man in his younger years and even up into his sixties, he seemed to be a very glamorous and exciting sort of chap! So from my early efforts at fiction, I was sure I would eventually write some stories inspired by that mystique.<br />
<br />
There is a family saga 'big novel' which has sat in fragments in the back of a file drawer for many years and may or may not ever see the light of day. However, <i>Dude Ranch Nights</i> has been completed, published and is now going to be reissued. Now I hasten to explain that Cameron Greenway is not intended to 'be' or even closely correspond to the real Mr T. Leo Greenough, but I do credit the latter for inspiration here. Still I state without hesitation that any real resemblance is coincidental and not truly intended; the worthy gentleman has been deceased for close to sixty years and may he rest in peace.<br />
<br />
Carole is strictly the figment of my imagination, perhaps a vague construct from some of my youthful daydreams and flights of fancy concerning how life might be had I been 'to the manor born.' To some degree we are sisters of spirit for I was always interested in adventure and challenges and pursued as many of them as I could. Had I enjoyed an adventurer uncle, I surely would have gone with him every chance I had!<br />
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The photo at right was taken by my dad and it or a similar one graced the cover of an outdoor adventure magazine back in the late 1950s. It was at Mr. Greenough's Spring Creek Ranch in the Verde Valley in central Arizona and features him with one of his mules and two of the hunting hounds. This is NOT Cam Greenway but with a bit of imagination you can perhaps visualize the hero of <i>Dude Ranch Nights</i>!Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-15349689741228610872017-09-17T11:31:00.000-06:002018-08-11T13:50:22.482-06:00News!! JMS and Kindle UnlimitedWith courtesy to JMS Books, a bunch of my older former AQ LGBT stories are going to be coming out on Kindle Unlimited and later released by JMS on their normal venues. This is very exciting to me, both to know some of my older and long-orphaned faves are going to be available again and about the chance to gain many new readers. Of course they are free to read for a time for Amazon Prime members and discounted to buy so it's a great opportunity! Here's the link to my page and they are right at the top of my list!<br />
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Deirdre+O%27Dare<br />
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The first four to be released are <b><i>Always on My Mind, Muscle Car Man, Special Delivery </i></b>and <i style="font-weight: bold;">Guilty by Innocence. </i> Four more will be appearing there soon and others through this fall and winter. These are mainly older tales that have been out of print since Amber Quill closed and date back on the original release far enough that a whole crop of new readers has come on scene! Here are the four covers and a short blurb on each one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxkosph3trmNPBo4zI5UZqyKvsMtEFe0bHRSndhZJrqjvK5zqh5_J4fNf1VAEF_xobrSsYWhZtXuMsMYqS1PLD30vjRe8VYCmt9uZx3Dz0IqeDgodWz3pFljiQhp5ItFvPWVvSCiDCMQ/s1600/Special_Delivery_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxkosph3trmNPBo4zI5UZqyKvsMtEFe0bHRSndhZJrqjvK5zqh5_J4fNf1VAEF_xobrSsYWhZtXuMsMYqS1PLD30vjRe8VYCmt9uZx3Dz0IqeDgodWz3pFljiQhp5ItFvPWVvSCiDCMQ/s200/Special_Delivery_400.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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<i>Special Delivery</i>: <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Monte’s sporting goods store is teetering on the edge of collapse due to the economic problems. The small conservative eastern California town he chose for his dream project is not welcoming, even though he keeps his gay lifestyle quiet. Then big trouble and a gorgeous package delivery driver fall into his world at the same time. Are they somehow connected?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnoZcCzD7U1hIvX-KW0jSkgseH-w7O4_GWTH9yPxfxDy_oXBu_D3BDU_ZHLjSnELW-8zG3YCs93r2uR3SePvyPrAueztA17krBgcDhkVe0eVn5XpijU41TXmagibEjJweFloLKuhSJxQ/s1600/Always_on_My_Mind_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnoZcCzD7U1hIvX-KW0jSkgseH-w7O4_GWTH9yPxfxDy_oXBu_D3BDU_ZHLjSnELW-8zG3YCs93r2uR3SePvyPrAueztA17krBgcDhkVe0eVn5XpijU41TXmagibEjJweFloLKuhSJxQ/s200/Always_on_My_Mind_400.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>Always on My Mind</i>: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Garth Talent could never forget Peter Nightrider, his best bud from high school, or the one drunken night they shared exploring each other's bodies. He's spent fifteen years with that memory and has never found anyone to erase it.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Now Garth is a high-priced attorney and Peter is a celebrity, heading an exciting Native-Pop music group. But Peter is in serious trouble and Garth is the only one who can help him.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-eHhJqzcChH_1tB0pFxMal_3xSOmCEMnoY5U2iqltTp5W8CZRgzanFEoTAQA-GjfuZi6QovEcHYoqV_tKz6rv0YoekmMjeG8kgRX5AZ2XtlIpt59dY3jjeOVqbkZWNcTUJthtxjRhQo/s1600/Muscle_Car_Man_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-eHhJqzcChH_1tB0pFxMal_3xSOmCEMnoY5U2iqltTp5W8CZRgzanFEoTAQA-GjfuZi6QovEcHYoqV_tKz6rv0YoekmMjeG8kgRX5AZ2XtlIpt59dY3jjeOVqbkZWNcTUJthtxjRhQo/s200/Muscle_Car_Man_400.jpg" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFzPT7NNjUbYHaKc2EUa89J9cfW7W7848yVR_kXlp2yA6GRNOxeZ-Tu4GaP3iltx7_Ztj7gaMvw5zR_WM3Tp245iF0LkYyNWWZHohOqs5xMZnlJuvG6juxe1AKXaoAJPOxWurQEvGeRA/s1600/Guilty_By_Innocence_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFzPT7NNjUbYHaKc2EUa89J9cfW7W7848yVR_kXlp2yA6GRNOxeZ-Tu4GaP3iltx7_Ztj7gaMvw5zR_WM3Tp245iF0LkYyNWWZHohOqs5xMZnlJuvG6juxe1AKXaoAJPOxWurQEvGeRA/s200/Guilty_By_Innocence_400.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>Guilty By Innocence:</i> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Jax is a cop by choice and to honor his father who was killed in the line of duty. His allegiance to his fellow officers and his code of ethics are the ruling factors of his life. At a hideous crime scene, when he finds an unconscious young man holding a bloody machete, Jax confronts a quandary. He can hardly believe this beautiful youth could have committed this atrocity, but if not, who did?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <i>Muscle Car Man</i>:</span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Jeff Castle has changed lanes from the high-tech world to that of the classic muscle cars and their fans when he inherits his uncle's glorified junkyard. His new life is complicated when help is hard to find. An impulse leads him to pick up a hiker on a remote road, and the man turns out to be just the kind of muscle Jeff needs in every way.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><br />
<br />Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-6034316634239382712017-09-16T20:44:00.000-06:002017-09-16T20:49:03.824-06:00 Canine Cupids redux<b><i>Cops and Canine Cupids</i></b> came out several weeks ago.. You can find it at http://www.loose-id.com/authors/erotic-romance-authors-a-f.html?cat=1064<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSOd8aQdCT4znZA6yZZutybIlLc_PPcRY7KFvTgeNkXo8hO9DswNt2CqfVStmjUXH2rG8W_DDHrP5V02T4gt4sQT7m_N-GjwSBrSHSJcjCDTy-rNRcfv4CodR_bZxWXhyS499a-BOcBI/s1600/DO_CopsandCanineCupids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSOd8aQdCT4znZA6yZZutybIlLc_PPcRY7KFvTgeNkXo8hO9DswNt2CqfVStmjUXH2rG8W_DDHrP5V02T4gt4sQT7m_N-GjwSBrSHSJcjCDTy-rNRcfv4CodR_bZxWXhyS499a-BOcBI/s320/DO_CopsandCanineCupids.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
I really like the cover. Loose Id artist Valerie Tibbs has come up with a great design that lends itself to featuring new guys and dogs as each collection in this series comes along. Book two, of course, features a law enforcement officer as a lead character in each tale. That fact is hinted by the cover and again the three feature dogs are up there front and center.. There is officer Craig Rommel's Belgian Malinois <i>Samson</i> on the left (the Sam who does the saving in Saved By Sam), detective Boz's Mini-Schnauzer <i>Snick</i> (the Schnickelfritz who falls in love!) in the center and Trek's Pit Bull <i>Commando</i> on the right, the one who got dogjacked!<br />
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<i><b>Dogjacked </b></i>is the new story in this set, sharing the spotlight with reprints <i><b>Saved By Sam</b></i> and <b><i>Schnickelfritz in Love</i></b>.<br />
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Here are the blurbs from the three tales:<br />
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<i>Dogjacked</i>: Travel writer Trek ends up stranded in a small New Mexico town after a would be thief tries to steal his restored 1959 Plymouth Fury, with his Pit Bull traveling companion in the car. Commando makes it a short trip but then Trek must either leave his dog or stay while it is in quarantine since the dog literally nabbed the thief. Local cop Dan comes to his rescue. He shows Trek the local sights--and a few more things, as well.<br />
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<i>Saved By Sam</i>: A closing time robber confronts bartender Roy and almost gets the best of it until cop Craig and his dog take charge. When the dog and the officer are both wounded, Roy uses his military medic skills to stabilize them until the EMTs arrive. As they recover, one thing leads to another and the two men become unlikely friends and ultimately more.<br />
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<i>Snickelfritz in Love</i>: Electrician Jake and detective Boz have an unusual meeting at the dog park when Boz's Snick takes a strong liking to Jake's retired greyhound Athena. After this awkward start the two end up working together when thieves rip expensive electronic parts off at a construction site where Boz is the lead in installing specialized equipment. While the men solve the crime, Snick and Athena plot to keep them together.<br />
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They are all fun stories and ones I had a great time writing. I do not consider myself a humor writer but situations in all three tales lend themselves to some humorous passages, giggle worthy if not laugh out loud. Of course there is some danger and adventure as well as some hot scenes mixed in with the other action. Novella length, each tale is a nice break time read, while traveling to or from work or to get in the mood at bedtime. Hope you will give this collection a try; if you have read Canine Cupids I, you already know what these stories are like and recognize that IMHO dogs and hunky guys just go together like PB & J!<br />
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Stick with me and we'll talk about Kindle Unlimited in the next post!Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-8195722016578679382017-09-15T11:21:00.002-06:002017-09-15T11:24:34.398-06:00Back and Raring to Go!!It became a much longer sabbatical than I had intended when I made the last post. New things have come out and I have a variety of other news and updates as well. So I will do my best to get all caught up in the next few days here.<br />
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Like many writers and other artistic folks, I do have periodic bouts of depression when it is a struggle just to do what one must to stay alive and semi-functional. The past couple of months were one of those times. The well of words and thoughts ran totally dry and I knew I had to let it recharge for awhile. The level is rising now and soon will be ready to pour forth some new creations. That's good! I also had my summer struggle when the allergies and my ongoing dry eye issues carried on a fight in my poor abused eyeballs, making it hard to be on the computer very much. I used the time to do some sewing--two new full-bed sized quilts-- and new earrings and other jewelry which I have resumed peddling at the local Farmer's and Crafter's Market every Saturday morning. Even at my worst, I do need creative outlets and those serve well when the writing goes into a hiatus.<br />
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Okay, 'nuff of that. Let me gather my wits and get the chronology straight and I'll bring you up to date. New covers, new releases, and a new ongoing program where many of my older LGBT tales are becoming available on Kindle Unlimited. Also some of Gwynn Morgan's long OOP (out of print) romances will be coming at Smashwords before the end of the year. Stay with me!<br />
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Luck n' Love, Deir'Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-8921614902090812292017-06-20T15:59:00.001-06:002017-09-15T11:11:14.212-06:00Last Train to ClarkdaleThis story released last Saturday and is available this week on JMS's site at the discount all new releases enjoy for a week. You might want to grab it while you can. Here is the blurb and the evocative cover. Here is the link: http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2117&zenid=XNYwiogv,vpYRoGJ52oiz1<br />
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The actual Verde Canyon Railroad has a different look but they copyright all their photos and the ones I got on a trip a few years back would not work, Still I made good use of my memories of that trip in drafting this story. And I recommend the trip to anyone who might be passing through central Arizona's scenic Verde Valley and wanting to see some sights inaccessible by highway to marvel at the scenery, the wildlife and the engineering that went into building this precarious track close to a century ago!<br />
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Blurb:<br />
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For Clay, always a misfit and
bullied at school, contact with the railroad and railroaders in the small <o:p></o:p></div>
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town
where he grew up was a lifeline. He has gone on to a career in the industry although not out on the track. Some odd
compulsion draws him back to his long departed home despite the painful
memories he has of the place. A chance meeting with noted photo-journalist Jon
and subsequent sharing of an afternoon’s tourist rail trip result from his
impulse. <br />
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Although Clay develops an instant
crush on the big bluff man, what can a geeky clerical type rail buff offer
to a famous world traveling scenic and wildlife photographer like Jon? When Jon
offers a short term holiday romance, Clay cannot resist but can he be satisfied
with a brief, hot vacation fling, all he dares to expect? Will the train back to Clarkdale be a finale for him or the start of a great new adventure?<o:p></o:p></div>
Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-33350284740778493042017-06-20T15:41:00.001-06:002017-09-17T11:38:34.205-06:00Deirdre readers are in luck!As it turned out, not only are <i>Game of Hearts</i> and <i>Last Train to Clarkdale</i> already out but next weekend there will be third one from JMS books! Either <b><i>Thank You, Ranch Romances </i></b>or <i><b>Red Tails in the Sunset </b></i>will be out with the other following along soon,.Both are stories I really liked, special to me in different ways.<br />
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<b><i>Ranch Romances </i>i</b>s one of my real favorite tales. If you might wonder now and then what life was like in the no-longer-wild but still developing and far from modern west in the post WWII era, here is a glimpse into that time. Nobody had heard of politically correct at that point and gay rights were a very distant dream. That meant life could be pretty had for a gentle young man who'd been put out of the army with a bad conduct discharge for the mere rumor of having possibly indulged in homosexual activity.<br />
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There really was a magazine called <i>Ranch Romances</i> and I read it avidly some years later than the time when this tale takes place. It did have pen pal columns, too, and before anyone had come up with eHarmony or Match.Com that as an acceptable method of finding friends and potential romance. I kept the Post Office busy corresponding with several lonely cowboys and servicemen while they did their share, too. This story was my small tribute to the service that and similar pulp magazines provided when telephone connections were a bit iffy and the main entertainment in rural areas was the radio and events at the schools and churches.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjY-SWR41qMadWMHSepDBv3hu5R2vkN9EXB44w6pjv1adKKH4AuzO5Dpo8UmTY_mPE1PuKK8OEjlymqZKfRaxDNYSELcWN3hWUIeseX9O1hqgMDvZ5U12XXEWEi9ZCmr9hKyLYXFcsLgE/s1600/ThankYouRanchRomances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="396" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjY-SWR41qMadWMHSepDBv3hu5R2vkN9EXB44w6pjv1adKKH4AuzO5Dpo8UmTY_mPE1PuKK8OEjlymqZKfRaxDNYSELcWN3hWUIeseX9O1hqgMDvZ5U12XXEWEi9ZCmr9hKyLYXFcsLgE/s200/ThankYouRanchRomances.jpg" width="129" /></a>Here is the blurb for this story and the cover, which I loved since it really reflects the style of art used in the 1930-1970 period by this and similar publications! I got permission from the artist (Trace Zebar) to use it on the re-release.<br />
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Blurb:<br />
Widowed Wade is desperate to find someone to help him care for his two
motherless children while he runs his hardscrabble ranch. After seeing a
“match” column in a pulp magazine, he sends off a letter, unsure what he will
get. When it turns up quiet, gentle Darnell, he is both shocked and intrigued.
Can this unorthodox arrangement possibly work?<br />
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Darnell is at the end of his rope when he finds an ad in a magazine
that appears as if put there for him. He takes a desperate chance and ends up
on a remote ranch in <st1:state w:st="on">New Mexico</st1:state>.
He finds the motherless children very loveable and their father scarily
attractive. But how, in the stiff and conservative environment of 1949, can he
dare reach for intimacy with his new hero? Will he end up back in dire straits
or settled in the home he deeply craves?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i><b>Red Tails </b></i>celebrates the heroic pilots who carry water and slurry into the rugged terrain of the west where again this year wicked wild fires are raging in the forest and open lands, often threatening small towns and rural farms and ranches. Hot, dry conditions create a virtual tinderbox, ready to explode with the catalyst of lightning, untended campfires or even a carelessly tossed cigarette butt. Then these daring pilots lift off into danger to help battle the blazes. What heroes!</div>
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Blurb: </div>
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Former military pilot Blaine Darby
carries a load of guilt and pain from harm he may have caused in wartime. Now
he seeks to earn some balancing good karma by fighting wild land fires while he
holds <o:p></o:p></div>
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on to his great love of flying. Reporters like young Daz Contreras scare
him, one of the few things that do, because he shuns the public eye. When a
near tragedy develops he puts his life on the line to save a trapped hotshot
firefighting crew. Will all this make the news?<br />
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Freelance investigative journalist
Daz Contreras is convinced terrorists are behind at least some of the wild land
fires plaguing New Mexico. All he needs is enough proof to break a story. As he
pursues this he begins to follow pilot Blaine Darby and develops a big case of
hero worship. Allowed to ride with his hero one time, he may have gotten the
proof he seeks. But a heroic rescue may be an even bigger story. Will the
reclusive Darby allow him to do it? <o:p></o:p></div>
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This is another of Trace Zabar's fantastic covers which he graciously permited me to reuse. I love those eyes!! Yes, I know Blaine is gay and would not be drawn to me but I would gladly chase such a man around the block and do my best to catch him! However, I think he is going to find a good match with Daz once he gets over his prejudices about jounalists. Read the book to find out.</div>
Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-20402299919341035072017-05-15T10:17:00.002-06:002017-09-16T20:10:56.930-06:00June Will Be Busy!When it rains, it pours, huh? And June is often the driest month of the year in the desert southwest. No drought for those who like Deirdre O'Dare and maybe need a Canine Cupids fix or missed some older stories when they were available from Amber Quill.<br />
<br />
First off, one of my extra favorite older tales will be out again June 3 from JMS Books. <i>A Game of Hearts </i>is one of my 'different' stories, much more emotion and character driven than many and there is not one dog! Instead I explore the intriguing possibility: how might an organ transplant impact the life, emotions and connections of the recipient? Tim has the heart of another man beating in his chest. He and DeVore are instantly drawn to each other. DeVore lost his life's love Steven ten years ago. It's a long shot but could Steven's heart be the one now within Tim and still reaching to connect with DeVore? It is a wrenching game of hearts as these two men sort out their relationship. Also I intend to pass all my profits from its sales to the National Donor Network if I can find where to send them since I have not seen any solicitations like many organizations spread all over.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwDoYRRo4sZlhWXNJgnqws0gHs82IX3T0bJcjCY0GjJegHCUEorbxRVNcDDmgYPL71pmTaqGxWiwySBt3m88YqfLxumYVe2YErOKlhRpTfSjcm-m27cdi_9L2I-88wh_M2ueamupIQ7Q/s1600/A_Game_of_Hearts_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwDoYRRo4sZlhWXNJgnqws0gHs82IX3T0bJcjCY0GjJegHCUEorbxRVNcDDmgYPL71pmTaqGxWiwySBt3m88YqfLxumYVe2YErOKlhRpTfSjcm-m27cdi_9L2I-88wh_M2ueamupIQ7Q/s200/A_Game_of_Hearts_400.jpg" width="133" /></a><br />
Here is the cover and the general link to JMS Books. It will always be on my page as soon as it becomes available! http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=191<br />
<br />
Then another train related tale , also from JMS, will be out the last weekend of the month, <i>Last Train to Clarkdale.</i> When a geeky railroad fan and a noted nature photographer accidentally cross paths, the best Clay dares hope for is a brief, hot holiday affair with big, bearish Jon. Still, who knows what could happen after the last train to Clarkdale gets back to the station? Cover and details coming soon!<br />
<br />
And last but not least, my second Canine Cupids package of three will be coming from Loose Id, release date to be announced soon and cover reveal coming also. This one is titled <i><b>Cops and Canine Cupids</b></i> and includes previously released stories <i>Saved By Sam, Schnickelfritz in Love</i> and a brand new one, <i><b>Dogjacked</b></i>. You will meet a heroic Belgian Malinois, a rascally mini-schnauzer and his greyhound paramour, and a Pit Bull named Commando who is chauffeured around in a perfectly restored 1959 Plymouth Fury! Lots of laughs, some tense adventures and of course many hot times for the men owned by these dogs and their canine-assisted matches. Stay tuned!Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-23395498159921035232017-05-08T15:34:00.002-06:002017-05-15T09:55:10.986-06:00Workin' on the Railroad--m/m, adult excerptAnother of my favorite older stories is about to see a rebirth! JMS will be releasing "Workin' on the Railroad" in less than two weeks. You can find it here--and read another short excerpt too! http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2094<br />
<br />
There is a lot of history behind this one. I've been a big railfan since I was a kid and my younger brother even more of one. In fact he worked for the Rio Grand Western, the merged Southern Pacific- Rio Grande and finally the Union Pacific when it absorbed the other combined lines. He spent a lot of time out on the track in various positions and finally wound up a general chairman for the labor union to which these people belonged. So there is my 'tech expert' and I consulted him often to be sure the background in this story was spot on. To the best of my ability, it is.<br />
<br />
Both of our grandfathers were railroad men, our Mom's in the clerical and administrative side and our Dad's in train crew. Then my first adult relationship was with a B&B foreman (bridge and building) which is the other main division of track maintenance. In short, railroading is in my blood and spirit!<br />
<br />
I write quite a few blue collar heroes and have to assert I respect these people highly. They are the real backbone of America and in the current technology-driven environment often do not get the respect they deserve!The rest of the population would be in sad shape indeed if it were not for the men and women who maintain our vast infrastructure of rails, highways, and electric lines, keep the assembly lines going, do the oil drilling, hard rock mining, farming, ranching and much more. Their efforts make our lifestyle possible. So I salute them as the real heroes they are along with our military and first responders. That's the 'roots' of <i>Workin' on the Railroad </i>and many other of my tales.<br />
<br />
Here is the blurb and an excerpt from this one. The cover--which I really like!--follows too.<br />
<br />
Blurb: Roane Wellman only intends to work
one summer on railroad maintenance to pay for his next semester of college
after his party guy ways cause his grandfather to stop supporting his
schooling. In a summer of hard work, adventure and danger, he matures and finds
a new course for his life. Before the season ends, he knows he’s meant to be
workin’ on the railroad as he fights to build a career and a partnership that just
might last for the rest of his life.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alden Prescott is a loner, content
to operate his big crane and shrug off the added responsibilities of being a
gang foreman. However, his current foreman is a drunkard and so close to
worthless that Alden ends up doing a lot of the functions he has tried to
avoid. Although he’s strongly drawn to the handsome new summer hire, memories
of a past tragedy make him afraid to pursue the relationship. What will it take
to convince him that Roane is not going to let him repeat past mistakes? And
what will happen when the current foreman winds up busted for his illicit drug
use? Workin’ on the railroad packs a lot
of danger, challenge and some very hot times—days at work and nights at play. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGx1trGYj0DMLw74qq5CZUUjWYwrKJbrHVOpMCpWjxF5yZo1rGegfiP8UW__IHg4FBaNTkvYJBjwzlX2FQp91tP3grc-hpBO54GdNjqwLQ7sxwBXe1lPBDFnh0Io2gH4bILS-VDkQKR8Q/s1600/Workin_on_the_Railroad_PROOF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGx1trGYj0DMLw74qq5CZUUjWYwrKJbrHVOpMCpWjxF5yZo1rGegfiP8UW__IHg4FBaNTkvYJBjwzlX2FQp91tP3grc-hpBO54GdNjqwLQ7sxwBXe1lPBDFnh0Io2gH4bILS-VDkQKR8Q/s320/Workin_on_the_Railroad_PROOF.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Excerpt: (adult rated, m/m)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Roane’s face
held only sympathy and anguish. “Holy shit, man. Oh my God. But you shouldn’t
blame yourself. Shit happens. Accidents. The world isn’t always nice or fair.”
He plowed to an awkward halt as if aware that platitudes only begged the
question. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Then he reached
across and laid his hand, cold from holding the beer, over Alden’s clenched
fist. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. Maybe things would have gone down different
that night.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Alden didn’t
feel easy with sympathy. He didn’t even think he wanted it. He only meant to
take away what he sensed was Roane’s notion that the sudden chill was due to
something he had done wrong. “It’s not your fault, none of this, just…well I
don’t want to see history repeat itself. I don’t think I dare try to handle mixing
work and pleasure that way. It’s too risky.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Roane’s grip
tightened on Alden’s hand. “Wait a minute. I’m not that guy, not just out for
kicks or a wild ride or two. At least that sounds like what he was doing. I
won’t flirt when its time for business. We’ve been working together for a month
now and it’s been okay, hasn’t it? From what you said, you and this guy
Jason, had just hooked up and you were new with the crane,
too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Alden nodded,
not sure where the other man was going with his arguments. “Yeah, that’s true.
And yeah, Jason liked to flaunt his looks and sex appeal and he did it all the
time. I was prob’ly scared he’d move on to someone else, maybe someone more
cool and macho than I was so he kept me going.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, then, why
should something bad happen again? This is different. Why not give me, give us
a chance?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you sure you want to take that risk?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
“If I wasn’t I
wouldn’t be asking.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Alden closed
his eyes for a moment. He heard Roane stir; the gripping hand released. Then
the next thing he knew he was bodily hauled out of the chair and into the
demanding circle of Roane’s arms. Shock jolted through him. He’d always been
the one to make the first move, even with Jason. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Jason had very
blatant about showing his interest but it had still been Alden who reached the
first time. A few minutes ago, Alden had admired Roane’s obvious strength. Now he experienced it. He could no more stop
this than he could block a runaway
train. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
The other guys
could return any time but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was
Roane’s hard hot body crushing against his and then Roane’s avid lips. The kiss
tasted of beer and something with cheese and chili that Roane had probably
eaten for lunch. The other man’s mouth sealed over his with so much heat and
force and intensity Alden wondered if he might go up in a flash like an arc
welding rod touching grounded iron.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Roane
maneuvered him in a circle, almost like dancing. Then with a shove he sent
Alden sprawling onto the sagging couch. Dropping to his knees on the still-wet
floor, Roane went to work on Alden’s belt, almost ripped the buttons undoing
his Levis, and stopped only for a split second when he apparently realized
Alden wore no underwear. </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
Alden’s cock
sprang free, bursting past the open fly of the jeans and into Roane’s waiting
hands. <o:p></o:p></div>
Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-33014968029829036112017-02-24T20:13:00.000-07:002017-02-24T20:16:01.882-07:00North to Alaska! Love is SnowblindThis very special story is now available. I am just tickled pink and other hues. Here is the link to JMS Books New Release page where it will be on sale for the first week.<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: x-small;">URL:</span><span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: x-small;"> </span><a class="yiv0781987835moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2010" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1487990616545_4210" rel="nofollow" shape="rect" style="-webkit-padding-start: 0px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #196ad4; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2010</a> It is also in the Amazon Kindle Unlimited Program.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday I am heading north to Alaska myself to be a volunteer for the Iditarod Trail sled dog race, one of the main inspirations for my writing this story. Of course I am wild with excitement! I expect that I will be writing some more stories set in this unique environment in the future.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWpO0XjpGnYzSmikn02cr8KjkS8grQWSoq5ovklVeNB_1XKQ7ZUfOxjB1dQwn1QJX8kc7wN0N8pWe9078-yDaSGZPhkQLw4RDlOiI7-dPn3EIX5jACPMatvTIt3eKIJQNd2hLQQCKBqc/s1600/Love_Is_Snowblind_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWpO0XjpGnYzSmikn02cr8KjkS8grQWSoq5ovklVeNB_1XKQ7ZUfOxjB1dQwn1QJX8kc7wN0N8pWe9078-yDaSGZPhkQLw4RDlOiI7-dPn3EIX5jACPMatvTIt3eKIJQNd2hLQQCKBqc/s200/Love_Is_Snowblind_400.jpg" width="133" /></a>Here is the cover one more time. If I was an ordinary reader I think I would almost buy it for the cover alone--with the story thrown in extra LOL.<br />
<br />
And here is one more little snippet of an excerpt:<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It was the next day before Dylan could
talk the doctors into releasing him. Then he faced the problem of how to get to
his place—and how to manage once he got there. The doctor had not wanted to
cast his leg yet, but Dylan insisted, promising to return at once if he
experienced any unusual pain, redness, sign of infection or other issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He could walk, but it was damned
hard, and his foot felt like it weighed a ton. A mukluk, at least his normal
ones, would not fit over the cast, which created another problem. How would he
keep his toes from freezing? He ended up calling a cab to take him home, glad
for once that he lived no farther from the city than he did. Usually he cursed
almost being in town and having neighbors crowding too close, but this time it
was a blessing. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Fairbanks</st1:city></st1:place>
cabs were mostly four-wheel drive SUVs; this one was no exception and easily handled
the icy roads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When they got to his cabin, he saw
his dog truck parked between the cabin and the kennel building. He also heard
dog voices, a greater volume of sound than could be made by just the eight he’d
left in the care of a neighbor boy interested in learning the musher’s trade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">They must’ve all made it home.</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> He couldn’t wait to see them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The cabin door swung open and a slim
figure in an unzipped parka loped out to meet him. Too tall to be Sammy, the
neighbor kid. Who then? Dylan struggled to find his balance, sorry he had not
opted to borrow a walker or at least a crutch or cane. Even with the ribbed
metal heel plate, he found the cast wasn’t made for walking on snow and ice.
Before he knew what was happening, the still-unidentified person had a shoulder
tucked under his arm on the right side to help him along the path and into the
cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Once inside, Dylan shrugged free and
skidded to a stop. Everything looked neat and clean, in a lot better shape than
he’d left the place in the last-minute urgency to get to the starting area for
the race. From beside the stove, two mottled gray piles of fur stirred and
jumped up, coming eagerly to greet him. They almost knocked him down as he
tried to pet both of them and still keep his balance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Damn dogs aren’t supposed to be in
the house,” he muttered. “What’s the deal here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Only then did he really look at the
man who had apparently moved in and made himself at home. Who had Portola found
to watch things? Did this guy know what he was doing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The truth was, Dylan often let Freya
and Thor and sometimes one or two of the others come in and share his space,
just for the company, but that was contrary to custom and not the way real
mushers were supposed to manage their sled dogs. They were working animals, not
damned mollycoddled lap dogs or pets! Ha, don’t try to tell most mushers that
bunch of bullshit! Most of them had one or two house dogs, if not half the
pack. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Turning his attention to his
unexpected guest, he watched as the other man shed his parka. All at once he
recognized the untidy shock of dark brown hair, the narrow face, and luminous
dark eyes that watched him now with a bit of deer-in-the-headlights anxiety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I—I felt like I owed them some
special treats. I mean, they got us to the checkpoint. They worked for me, even
if I didn’t know shit about what to do. And they’re the alphas, so they deserve
some special perks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dylan grinned. He couldn’t help it.
The guy was so earnest, so anxious, and he had obviously done the best he
could, taking on a responsibility not really his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Did Sammy help feed and stuff? He
knows the routine and was caring for the dogs I left behind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The other man nodded. “Oh, yeah,
he’s in the kennel right now. He’s been here most of the time since we made it
back yesterday—well, actually, the night before when we got here. He told me
how you feed them and stuff, and we worked on it together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dylan nodded. “Sammy’s a good kid.
At first, he was a pest, hanging around and bugging me to teach him about this
stuff, but he’s picked it up fast. He’s a natural.” He took a moment to study
the other man. Up close, he saw more age in the face than he’d realized. No,
this wasn’t a kid looking back at him, but an adult, a man. He wasn’t sure
whether that came as a relief or a new source of concern. He could deal with
kids to some extent, but…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m sorry—I know you told me your
name, but it just didn’t stick. I gotta have something to call you, and maybe a
name to make the check out to for stepping in and taking care of things for
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="AQPGalley" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m Grey Trammel, and there damn
well isn’t going to be a check. You saved my stupid ass and it cost you the
race, not just this one, but now others you can’t make while your leg heals. I
owe you a hell of a lot more than a couple of days here with the dogs. I owed <i>them</i> that, actually, not even
considering what I owe <i>you</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-51778018086014988802017-02-19T10:37:00.001-07:002017-05-08T15:00:15.600-06:00Let's talk Canine CupidsThose of you who have followed Deirdre and her books for some time already know about this ongoing series, linked not by characters but by the common theme of a dog or dogs who take a paw to getting their beloved master(s) hooked up with the right guy. While they were with Amber Quill, these stories were always my best sellers and continued to find new readers even after they had been available for several years. Then that publisher closed its doors and they became orphan books and off the market.<br />
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It took awhile, but now <b>Loose Id</b> http://www.loose-id.com/ has started to bring them back with a new never-released story in each group of three. The first collection came out on Valentine's Day--I mean how perfect is that? Cupids on Love Day, even if they are canine? I featured the book at The Romance Studio's annual Valentines' Party along with my other February release, which also has some major doggie characters, <i>Love is Snowblind</i>.<br />
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The new story in this first collection is <i>A New Leash on Life</i>. Here is a blurb:<br />
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Justin Dunne returns to his small home town in southern New Mexico, victim of the recent recession and just short of broke. He learns of a business for sale and takes a wild chance to assume ownership of a pet grooming shop! In order to do this, though, he has to have a loan. And the local bank is now headed by Barry Barlowe. An interrupted encounter with Barry, who'd been Justin's high school crush, sent Justin fleeing the scene years before. Now he has to meet and deal with the guy he has never been able to forget.<br />
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Barry Barlowe has his own problems--a position assumed after his father's death that he hates and a nagging mother to whom he is afraid to come out. Then in walks Justin Dunne. Barry is determined that Justin will not get away this time, but Barry finds he's very gun shy,stiff-necked proud, and still afraid what people in the conservative small town will think. How can Barry untangle this gordian knot of problems to win the love he always wanted?<br />
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The cover, by LI artist Valerie Tibbs, is perfect. That is Murphy in the middle, the dog Justin inherited from his new business's prior owner. The other two dogs are Mandy from <i>Rescued by Love</i> and Cedric from <i>The Maltese Terror</i>. You can meet and enjoy all three by ordering this book here: http://www.loose-id.com/canine-cupids.html<br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-32139945086943764612017-02-07T19:31:00.002-07:002017-02-19T10:44:46.197-07:00Got it Covered!We have a cover for Canine Cupids and it is just perfect. I am thrilled with it. It even features a pretty good facsimile of the "lead dog" in each of the three stories. And in just a week, this collection will be up for sale on the Loose Id site and elsewhere, shortly after if not at once. Here is the link: http://www.loose-id.com/canine-cupids.html<br />
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Since Canine Cupids will be released first, I'll give you all an excerpt of each story in the next couple of days with emphasis on <i>A New Leash on Life</i> which is the brand new story, never published before. I am also delighted to have two of my favorite original Canine Cupids tales again available but a new one is always a high point too. I'll also be showing off both these new releases at the Valentine's Party at TRS from February 10-14 and there will be a giveaway or two, I promise!<br />
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And here is the cover:<br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-90252762219195585702017-02-02T20:54:00.001-07:002017-02-19T10:44:14.171-07:00Going to the Dogs!I am totally delighted to let everyone know that February is going to the dogs! My new collection at Loose ID, which reissues two of my early Canine Cupids stories with a brand new one, will hit the streets on February 14. What a fabulous Valentine for me and I hope for the dog lovers among my readers. We are cutting it close so I do not have a cover yet, but any day. The three stories featured in this collection are <b><i>The Maltese Terror, Rescued By Love</i></b> and the brand new<b><i> A New Leash on Life</i></b>. If you enjoy action packed gay romance with some hot scenes, a bit of adventure and danger and one or more adorable canines who are determined to get their master(s) hooked up with the right guy, you are going to love this one. The minute a cover lands in my inbox, I will share it. I am doubly excited since this is my first release from Loose Id and many of my old friends from Amber Quill and elsewhere are there already so I feel like it is old home week. Link to follow soon!<br />
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Then, a favorite of mine from the old Canine Cupid series which has undergone quite a bit of rewriting will be released by JMS Books February 25. The timing is perfect because February and March are the months for the two big sled dog races, which are the background and inspiration for <b style="font-style: italic;">Love is Snowblind. </b>Link here: http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2010<br />
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Wounded warrior Dylan Norgard came to Alaska to try a new project where vets, most with PTSD, get involved with training and running sled dogs for a unique kind of therapy. He comes to love the sport and decides to break off and start his own kennel, begin competing and gradually reach the point where he can enter the world-famous Iditarod!<br />
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Meanwhile, Gray Trammel seeks to become a successful sports writer and decides covering the Iditarod from a new angle or two will be a huge step ahead for him. He sees Dylan on TV and develops a big crush on the rugged musher. When he meets his new hero, it seems he does everything wrong. Last but far from least, he manages to get stranded in a blizzard during a race. With no idea who the SOS has come from, Dylan leaves the race trail to go find the lost man. He discovers it is Gray and gets him on the sled to struggle back to the village in a fierce storm. On the return trip, he falls and breaks his leg. From there things just keep getting more complicated!<br />
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However, this is a romance and you can expect a happy ending. You can also absorb some of the incredible atmosphere of this extreme and challenging sport. I've become a very avid fan and have learned a lot in several trips to Alaska to include an upcoming stint the first two weeks of March to be a volunteer for the big race! I can hardly wait. The other big race,The Yukon Quest, another 1000 mile competition, will begin Saturday So the release date is right between them. If you are at all interested in this extreme sport, check out my other blog http://gwynnmorganalaska.blogspot.com I love sled dog racing because women compete equally with men and many of them do very well!! Three ladies took the top three places in a recent 300 mile or mid-distance race--like the fictitious one in which Dylan is competing in the book! And a number are competing in the two big ones again this year.<br />
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There is a contest at Coffee Time Romance and More in which I will give away three downloads of this book and one with an adorable plush husky puppy, too cute to give to a baby to rumple and chew! The prize will be similar to these shown, depending on what is in stock at the Iditarod Headquarters store Here is the link to the contest page at CTR! <b><i> http://coffeetimeromance.com/contests/</i></b><br />
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-48971201946989433922016-12-06T19:18:00.000-07:002018-10-26T18:30:42.042-06:00Old Favorites and New reviewsI was so lucky to get linked up with JMS books, a great outfit devoted to LGBT fiction where several of my favorite gay romances are now available again and a new one also found a good home. There will be more of both in the coming months.<br />
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Anyway, the first of my work they released was <b><i>The Mule Man</i></b>, last summer. It was followed the next month by a new spin-off, <b><i>A Mule for a Princess</i></b>. Both these stories received glowing reviews . I was just thrilled to pieces. Here is a snippet from each and a link to them.<br />
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This from Gay Guy Reads by Diane.</h4>
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http://ggr-review.com/the-mule-man-by-deirdre-odare-book-review/</h4>
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"If you like westerns in a contemporary setting, if you love city and country going head-to-head, if you love anything of the long-eared persuasion, you are going to adore this novella. The ending is realistic and definitely upbeat. I know my heart did a wee flip at the end.</h4>
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I’m giving The Mule Man two enthusiastic thumbs up, five stars and a recommended read."</h4>
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And for <b><i>A Mule For a Princes</i></b>s, same source:<br />
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<strong style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">The narrative skips across time, never lingering long on any phase, and that is where I would find fault because—quite simply—the author’s enchanting style and knowledge about her subject matter begs for leisurely dallies with the mules and the men who tend to them with such love and devotion.</strong></h4>
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<strong style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Yes, it is a fairytale, you must suspend disbelief about certain steps in getting from point A to B, but the outcome is never really in doubt and the ending, though on the vague side, is still sigh-worthy.</strong></h4>
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<strong style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">This is a solid Four Star read that begs for a follow-up. I simply must know what happens to Bobby and Doyle and the precocious young girl Fiona who gives them all purpose.</strong></h4>
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<ins style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"></ins>Another tale that is close to my heart which JMS released this past fall, is <i style="font-weight: bold;">A Cop and A Con. </i>It was reviewed by Kenna at Joyfully Jay. http://joyfullyjay.com/2016/11/review-a-cop-and-a-con-by-deirdre-odare/</div>
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"The final quarter of the book was filled with suspense and action. I was completely caught up in the story, and once again, I wis A Cop and A Con could have been longer, simply to explore the bad guys a bit more.</div>
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I highly recommend this novella if you have about an hour to spend and you're looking for something exciting and sexy. Also...the last few paragraphs were awesome. I won't give them away, though. Just read it!"</div>
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And here are the yummalicious covers of all three books! You can order any of the books here: http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=191</div>
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-23977816084537514992016-12-05T18:32:00.000-07:002016-12-05T18:35:14.348-07:00A "Yule Tied" tale<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, I promised and here I am! I think the first thing is
to tell you about my holiday story at Changeling. They do a special group or series each December at the rate of several each week and have a super giveaway in conjunction with it. This
year the title for the group is Yule Tied and of course when you give a bunch
of authors a theme and turn them loose the results can be a real mixture!
Although unlike some of my publishers, Changeling does the whole gamut of
erotic romance tales from regular m/f to all sorts of ménage and other
groupings and of course m/m and f/f. Being kind of used to doing the gay guys for
my main characters, that was what I wound up with here. </div>
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There is just one cover for all of the stories with the
title and author’s name the only difference so that’s a good marker at their
website and elsewhere to grab one of these—or a handful if you are so inclined! Here is the link to the Changeling site and the cover. </div>
Link: http://www.changelingpress.com/<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ViePX1w5aM8f8h2uuiwE41AMVbFFpvxPxIYSlW82IxU1jFw59smk9Cd8XUQK9eAFwBsvFSgHMQg7q3zu1-l3-EklkViWWl0KOgDHp-6JMuEdK7QAxHUY6JGEaSqXu3JJ1iDkAarzJrM/s1600/Yule+Tied--Gift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ViePX1w5aM8f8h2uuiwE41AMVbFFpvxPxIYSlW82IxU1jFw59smk9Cd8XUQK9eAFwBsvFSgHMQg7q3zu1-l3-EklkViWWl0KOgDHp-6JMuEdK7QAxHUY6JGEaSqXu3JJ1iDkAarzJrM/s1600/Yule+Tied--Gift.jpg" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div>
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My tale is titled <i>Gift
of Love</i>. For a variety of reasons, I just can’t seem to write a real “Christmas”
story so this one is a Yuletide story (as opposed to Yule Tied!) and centers
around a group of Wiccans and their celebration of this midwinter season. Here
is the blurb and then I will give you a short PG-13 excerpt although the story
is hot. </div>
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Blurb:</div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Scarred by an abusive
stepfather who destroyed his confidence and faith, Rob is adrift. Trying to
live on the street, he falls under the domination of Daniel, an older man who
is only marginally kinder to him. This man, self-proclaimed leader of a Wicca
coven, is very arrogant and self-centered. Through this mentor , Rob obtains a
job in a book store. He also serves as an assistant to Daniel in rites and
ceremonies, albeit living in fear of making mistakes. At a sabbat gathering, he
meets Sean<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sean grew up in a Wiccan home
and only left following his parents’ death in an accident. He has floundered
along alone and now works as a nurse. Seeing a notice of a coven meeting in his
new home town, he attends a sabbat gathering. There he meets and is instantly
drawn to Rob, seeing the gentle, truly good soul behind his shyness. Sean
recognized he must woo the other man carefully and win his trust before they
can begin a real relationship. Daniel stands in the way. When Daniel’s
overbearing ways finally create a rebellion in the group, Sean sees a chance to
step in. Will he manage to show Rob that sex can be about caring, trust and
love instead of domination and harsh control? Can Rob accept a yuletide <i>Gift of Love</i>?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Excerpt: This is Rob's and Sean’s first meeting:</div>
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(After he saw the notice in the
news) Sean decided he’d go. He was off
the next day and even as he went about his small personal chores, he felt a building excitement. Maybe it would
be good to be among people who shared at least some of his background, who
spoke and acted in ways familiar and once well-loved. Maybe he would even find
some real friends among the group. Hope seemed an alien emotion but it felt
good, all the same. </div>
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Sean made
sure he arrived early. Only a few people were there when he entered the room.
One couple came over to greet him and then two guys who seemed to be alone as
he was approached to introduce themselves. Good start so far. </div>
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Right after he met Mike and Sam,
everyone turned toward the doorway. A tall man with iron gray hair down to his
shoulders swept in, trailing a heavy purple cape. Clearly used to attention and
perhaps even servility, he nodded to everyone but did not smile.</div>
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“Hey, Daniel, good to see you.”
That was Mike. The man frowned slightly at the casual address. “Hello Michael.
I see you decided to join us again.”</div>
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The female half of the couple
smiled as she said, “Well met, Arch Mage. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better
after missing our last gathering.”</div>
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At that point, Sean’s attention
wandered as another man appeared, almost as if he had stepped out of Daniel’s
shadow. Slender and fair, he held himself with a kind of diffidence as he
carried in his arms a bundle of furnishings for the ceremonial part of their
gathering. With exaggerated care, he approached the table that clearly served
as the alter and juggled the armload as he tried to extract the cloth from
around the bundle and spread it out. </div>
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Sean hurried over. “Here, let me
help you. You’d need five hands to do this all by yourself. I’ve set up altars
before, maybe a little differently than you do it here but I can at least help
hold things so nothing falls on the floor.”</div>
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The fair man looked up, a flare of
gratitude in his pale blue eyes. “Oh, thank you. That’s so very kind. It would
be terrible to drop something.” His gaze cut quickly to the caped man but the
“Arch Mage” seemed to be occupied, greeting other arrivals. “I—I’m sure it will
be all right even if you are a visitor. Just so we do everything to Daniel’s
exacting specifications…”</div>
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The blond man seemed almost
fearful, which struck Sean as odd, but up close, Sean could see he was very
nice looking. He had a quality Sean could only term sweetness about him,
something almost childlike and clearly eager to please. Sean’s fingertips brushed
the other man’s hand as he took the athame and two candles from him to hold for
a moment. A quick tingle of energy zipped up his arm. From the other man’s
sudden tension, Sean felt sure he had sensed the same thing. </div>
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Together they soon had the altar
arranged and ready. “I guess I should introduce myself,” the fair man said.
“I’m Rob Cantwell. I—I’m kind of an understudy or assistant to Daniel Costeau,
the Arch Mage. He has such a huge responsibility that he needs someone to do
the grunt work. I try to do the best job I can because it’s all so very
critical, so essential. I just wish I was more capable.”</div>
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Sean smiled. “I’m Sean Cassidy.
It’s been awhile but I grew up in a coven with my folks. They weren’t the
leaders but senior members and had a share in the sabbats and ceremonies. It looks to me like you have the set-up all
down to the gnat’s eyelash.”</div>
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Rob sighed. “I try. I often mess up
but I do try. I want so much to learn and become reliable, error-free. I think
I’m just a natural klutz and fuck-up though.”</div>
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“Hey, don’t put yourself down like
that. If you didn’t grow up in a coven or circle how could you expect to know
everything right off? I take it you’re not a life long Wiccan?” </div>
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Rob showed a rueful grin as he
shook his head. “Oh no, my stepfather was a fire-eating Baptist preacher. I’ve
just been–well, Daniel took me under his wing a few months ago.”</div>
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Sean wanted to reach out and give
the other man a hug. Something told him Rob had endured a lot of tough times
and brought a heavy load of bad baggage into his adult life. Although he was no
expert, Sean saw abused children and teens in his medical work and Rob displayed
many similar cues. </div>
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Maybe that was why he seemed
younger than his apparent age. Sean guessed Rob was about twenty-five, no more
than a couple of years younger than he was, even though the fair man acted
about sixteen. Despite that, he found Rob very attractive and a strange desire
to protect him had emerged almost at once. </div>
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Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-32053634091607907382016-12-03T19:14:00.004-07:002016-12-03T19:14:50.145-07:00Catch Up TimeThe last time I posted here I was about to head off to Alaska. I did and I've been back for some time but it has been a wild ride both for the country and for me personally with many disruptive things going on. I'll try to get caught up in the next few days with the latest releases, some great reviews, and looking ahead to the future. Meanwhile I apologize for being very scarce for three months!!<br />
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Alaska was great. You can read about it at gwynnmorganalaska.blogspot.com if you are curious. If not, check back tomorrow and I will do my best to update you all on Deirdre's plans, new and rereleased books and similar stuff!!Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-19187215739867397762016-09-15T12:08:00.004-06:002016-09-15T12:08:34.975-06:00Two releases, one out and one coming!This may be my last chance to post for awhile since I will be out in the wilds of Alaska for something between 45 and 90 days as a "working guest" at an expedition and mid-range racing sled dog kennel. They are 'off the grid' but do have some internet access. I am sure my time will be limited though. Anyway, here is the latest scoop:<br />
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Out tomorrow and ready for pre-order already (It's up at ARE!!) This is a revised and lightly expanded version of the first of my <i>Thin Green Line</i> stories, then called <i>Beyond the Shadows</i>. The new version is retitled <i>Crossing Borders</i> with a lot of layers of meaning in that title. Here is the blurb and the buy link at Changeling.:http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2512<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxeOE2IBhP2Y011QGZOSC5G6tQExiHsUjh8IMhePYMBHKxzyQ519tqKJvYiijXOgpEV_uYLB39BD6hyzNSb0_2mR9DBCyaXbUOrUjHPztSXa2LNebJBnUS95BFbLQLiMRj3DvjmdVOpc/s1600/CrossingCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxeOE2IBhP2Y011QGZOSC5G6tQExiHsUjh8IMhePYMBHKxzyQ519tqKJvYiijXOgpEV_uYLB39BD6hyzNSb0_2mR9DBCyaXbUOrUjHPztSXa2LNebJBnUS95BFbLQLiMRj3DvjmdVOpc/s200/CrossingCover.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
Blurb: <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First year Border
Patrol officers Rhys Davis and Liam Malone have been friends since second
grade. When their new assignment puts them on the front lines in tracking down
a vicious and inhuman killer along the southern border, they must call on every
resource at their disposal.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The most potent
of these turns out to be memories from a life they shared two thousand years
ago in the British Isles, one in which they were partners in every way, forming
an eternal bond that allowed them to defeat this same enemy in that life. Will
crossing the line from friends to lovers in this life destroy their friendship
or build on it? Will it allow them
victory over the “Soul Eater” before the monster destroys them both?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, coming on October 22 from JMS books is a reissue of my story<i> A Cop and A Con. </i>It has not been revised but I'm pretty sure a lot of readers have not gotten their copy yet. It is a very special story to me, covering a lot of issues and situations that I've been on the periphery of and wanted to bring out in the venue of a powerful and unusual love story. It will be up for pre-order very soon and of course discounted the week of its release. So if you missed this at Amber Quill the first time around, get it this time!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's the link for it: </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=coming_soon </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">It will be up there in a few days, moving closer to the top as the release date approaches. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;">Here is a blurb and the great new cover.</span></div>
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<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQvmud1vsf8hPIHxMrTBfiIT7lk6viPCtmFuc-FpUA2n6vyM8QePc6coquLEYliPJgkjLls_HRCJDQH7PoSOffVzJc1V8lyNRQHNM33KT2oZwh7hk6CLgKSInDE4Ja1l0oV44vBJxWeA/s200/A_Cop_and_a_Con_400x600.jpg" width="133" /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">Blurb: </span>When a cop and a newly released
convict cross paths, few cons can expect anything positive. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Struggling toward a
home he knows no longer exists, Ike Hernandez meets a cop who seems different.
He isn’t sure he can believe the kindness, but he wants to learn to trust again
and regain his lost self respect. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perry Parker became a law
enforcement officer to help people. He learned there wasn’t much he could do,
but now and then he found someone he could help. Would the lost man with the
little dog that he picked up one stormy night be one of them? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pursuing tales about a new drug
dealer, Perry starts to doubt the man he’s befriended but something inside
still feels Ike is a decent person. When the real dealers take advantage of the
convict’s past, Perry, his unofficial canine partner Badger and the little stray Ike
adopted save the day. Can a cop, a con and two dogs make an unorthodox family? </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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So enjoy these reads and I will see you again, at the latest shortly before the Winter Holiday Season gets into high gear!</div>
Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762774043603095241.post-54600189042428458422016-09-03T09:57:00.001-06:002016-09-03T10:02:36.227-06:00Out today--with PG-13 excerpt (m/m) <i>Smoke and Spots</i> is back on the market. Another one of my previous best sellers, it is now available--on sale the first week--at JMS Books. If you missed this one in the past, it has a loveable dog, an endearing little boy and a couple of great fire fighters who get quite a blaze going between them. I wrote it to honor the volunteer fire fighters who serve in many small rural communities which otherwise would not have local fire protection and often not nearby EMT or first aid support.<br />
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My late hubby and I were involved with such a group for four years while we lived in Falcon, CO and I pay tribute in this story to a couple of people who were there when we were. There was a Judy who was small and spunky; her name was not Diaz but otherwise my description is not far off. She had a daughter who was one of our daughter's friends. The others I touch in composite.<br />
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Here is the cover, a link to the page at JMS and then a short excerpt.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYDa8aWCx0RvMks8blkqcvausSP1RFb-tJDBMiBmCZWy59bT6DsLxTIFEzb5dJIFzEHtOH4zNoRPhj9tthi9U2lPWYJyZtxEBzrM1nBfOk5Q-zDB0kCotwfCY-I_TErTcXXodYV98R8A/s1600/Smoke_and_Spots_400x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYDa8aWCx0RvMks8blkqcvausSP1RFb-tJDBMiBmCZWy59bT6DsLxTIFEzb5dJIFzEHtOH4zNoRPhj9tthi9U2lPWYJyZtxEBzrM1nBfOk5Q-zDB0kCotwfCY-I_TErTcXXodYV98R8A/s200/Smoke_and_Spots_400x600.jpg" width="133" /></a>http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=1872&zenid=pjnTLuS1WxS1FGlb4IjVK0<br />
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Excerpt:<br />
Grady managed to keep the hose steady until Sully reached him. Together, they shot water into the nearest edge of the fire, watched the flames flicker and fall, but the upper reaches continued to burn and there was no way they could spray the water that far.<br />
“I hope Sandy got through to the Forest Service. If they can hit the upper ridges with slurry before it gets too widespread, we can nip this sucker.”<br />
Sully grunted his assent, twisting the valve to shut off the water, which had dwindled to a trickle.<br />
They’d emptied both trucks. Grady knew he should send the<br />
smaller one back for more water, but the fire had moved far enough<br />
he doubted they could get water on it now. In a minute, they’d<br />
gather tools and trudge up the hill to help Judy and her partners.<br />
They dragged the hoses back to the truck and loaded them.<br />
That chore done, they paused for a minute, assessing<br />
their next move as they took a short break. The two of them<br />
stood there, feeling the weight of frustration. Grady glanced<br />
across the hose, met Sully’s keen hazel gaze and felt an electric<br />
jolt all the way to his toes.<br />
“We’ve actually got a lot in common,” Sully said after a<br />
few tense seconds. “I’m thinking maybe we should bury the<br />
hatchet. I’ll go first because I know I’m the one who’s made this<br />
harder than it had to be. When you got the job I wanted worse<br />
than anything I ever hoped for at Christmas, I was mad as a<br />
scalded skunk and about as mean. I’m sorry. I realize now you’re<br />
a lot better suited to be the chief, a real leader, than I’ll ever be.”<br />
“I started to realize what the problem was,” Grady<br />
responded, “so no hard feelings. I probably would’ve been just<br />
as cantankerous if things were reversed. You’ve helped me a lot<br />
in spite of everything, and I appreciate it. You’re a man I’m glad<br />
to have at my back—anytime.”<br />
Dropping his heavy glove, he held his hand out to meet<br />
Sully’s. The next thing he knew he was enveloped in a hug, an<br />
awkward one because of their bulky protective gear, but no less<br />
evocative. He was a bit the taller of the two of them, but stood a<br />
step farther downhill, which put them face to face. Sully’s<br />
freckled mug was suddenly right there—close enough their<br />
helmet brims clashed, close enough…<br />
“I reckon the connection worked, eh?”<br />
Ambrose came chugging up the track. Thank all the<br />
powers, he yelled before he rounded the tanker. Otherwise, no<br />
telling what he might have witnessed. As it was, Sully jerked<br />
back like he’d been hit with a cattle prod, while Grady fumbled<br />
with the handle on the nearest toolbox, needing anything he<br />
could use to distract himself. Still, his voice sounded odd when<br />
he answered the old man. “Yeah, it did. You and Bob did good,”Gaye Morgan-Waltonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00055225577546839810noreply@blogger.com0