Tuesday, 13 May 2014

Released: Antidote

Okay, here it is. Antidote is officially released today. It's the sequel to the award-winning Don't..., where both of these novels also tie into the Society of Masters' project and Lynn Kelling's recent release Forgive Us (she borrows my boys).

Strong -- very strong warnings are ahead: this is a dark psychological thriller, emphasis on the 'exceedingly dark' and then never more so on the 'psychological mind games'. I can't be honest enough when I advise: this is a brutal book that looks at psychological deconstruction. Don't go there if this is a trigger. There is non-con in this.

Along with the warnings, there's a wee little more detail:

Title: Antidote
Author: Jack L. Pyle
Genre: Dark psychological erotic romance thiller
Length: novel
Formats: paperback and all ebook formats.
Publisher: Forbidden Fiction.
Links:  Fantastic Fiction Publishing  (Amazon etc also avaible soon)

Videos of Jack having sex with a man who mutilated teenagers for fun should have stayed dead and buried, just like the man who filmed them. Yet when footage of Jack’s past starts appearing on Internet porn sites, Jack’s whole world is again turned on its head.

At first, the videos merely unsettle Jack’s fire and ice world of Gray Raoul’s BDSM kink and Jan Richards’ gentle, vanilla touch. But when the videos get more extreme, even Gray turns his back on Jack, isolating him from the full protection of the Masters’ Circle. Jack soon finds himself at the mercy of a group of men set on altering Jack’s perceptions of BDSM— and himself—as brutally as possible.

Jack’s sex life is now on camera for a whole new audience.

Something was seriously wrong. Something out of that book had Jack climbing up the walls, enough to tear up over fifteen grand’s worth of art history. Part of me didn’t want to know, another part of me had to know.

Noise came from the living room, the kind of grunts and groans off a TV you’d turn down at night time so no one else would hear you, and I slowed my pace.

Side-on to me, Gray was standing by his laptop with his arms folded, his face giving nothing away. I frowned, but couldn’t quite bring myself to go over.

“DVD?” I said quietly, resting against the doorframe, but Gray shook his head.

“Porn site.”

My heart fell. Amongst the recently posted, there was a screen shot of a painfully young-looking Jack. Gray homed in on the title for a moment, enough for me to read it from here. It was the same intro found on most sites, yet somehow very much in a class of its own.


…love the Cub in slap-kink with Bear.

I rested my head against the frame, just hugging my stomach, and watched as Gray clicked on the play button.

A simple master bedroom came on screen. It allowed room for a bed with a brass frame and headboard, made up with crisp white duvet covers and soft pillows. Each side had a bedside unit, and a lamp was on one, but barely added much light to the cream-coloured room.

Three men heated life up in there. Well, two men and a young boy just touching eighteen. One man sat in the corner, watching what was going on in the bed, a smile plastering his face as he stroked his hard-on. He was naked, but then so were the two people writhing on the bed.

Cutter was an easy spot. Mark Shaw had him bang to rights as a thug who loved to cut up young men: a skinhead, three times bigger than Jack, and most of the muscle looking as hard and as up for it as what went on between his thighs. He had a tattooed scalp, some political racist slur that ran down his neck, and Jack, he was the naked teen struggling underneath him.

Jack’s hair was longer, wilder, his body youthfully thinner, still deeply tanned and coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Cutter had just flipped him onto all fours, his arm snaking roughly around Jack’s neck, his free hand pulling at Jack’s hair to twist his head and get access to his mouth. He kissed hard, rutting just as rough, pausing from his kiss only to grin at the youth he held.

“Want it, boy?”

“Not tonight, luv,” said Jack, smiling, “got a headache.” A growl, Cutter shifted, tossing Jack onto his back, and Jack’s dick came into full view. My heart sank, because for all of the fight Jack offered, he wanted it. He wore nothing but this black rope necklace with a black cross sleeping on a bigger silver one. Tiny sterling-silver balls, three one side, three on the other, gave it that youthful look, a little expensive too. I didn’t look below that necklace again. Jack looked young, way too fucking young for me to focus on anything lower than that necklace.

“Smart-mouth fuck.” Cutter slapped at Jack’s cheek, but Jack only grinned a little more. It won him a harder slap. “What you got for me now, boy?”

Jack nipped at Cutter’s jaw, feeding it.

Another slap, this last one was hard enough to snap Jack’s head to the side and leave a stinging redness to his cheek. “Oooh,” groaned Cutter, “like it, don’t you, boy?” His hand crushed between Jack’s thighs, making him groan. “Yeah, like it rough alright, don’t you, Jack?”

Even his name hadn’t been cut from public viewing.

Antidote's release also coincides with the release of Lynn Kelling's Divine Surrender, where the gorgeous Ben Knox comes out to play for the first time:

When Ben Knox discovers a clean-cut, blond, apparently-straight teenager named Kyle Roth in his office, looking for a professional Dominant, instinct draws him in. Since the exceedingly particular Kyle has already passed on fellow Dominants-for-hire, Gabriel and Trace, Ben digs down beneath first impressions to expose Kyle’s true motivations. Reassured by Ben’s straightforward approach, Kyle demonstrates his willingness to obey and, quickly, their contract is signed. But, skillful as Kyle is at masquerading as the person the world expects him to be out of self-preservation, Ben has plenty of experience dealing with bruised souls. Kyle’s bruises, though, go deep and the vulnerable darkness that Kyle tries to hide lures Ben in and takes them both farther than either is prepared to go.

Tuesday, 6 May 2014

New Release: Forgive Us by Lynn Kelling

And here we have it: Forgive Us. It's the first installment of the Society of Masters, with Lynn Kelling borrowing my boys from Don't and... playing! I've read it; I've loved it; I've got a serious case of needing more Trace, more Micah, more Gabe, more Dare, more Kyle -- so much more of Ben "sexed-up" Knox -- and all the heat that comes with Lynn's boys. Add into the mix my boys: Gray, Jack, and Jan and... aye, aye-aye! I can understand the steam coming off the guy on the cover there.

I'm giving nothing away about how Lynn works my boys in this, but I will say I receive no financial gain from Lynn borrowing my characetrs. Lynn receives no financial gain from how I will use hers in the upcoming Breakdown, then Gray Matters. We do, however, get to cross worlds and have a whole lot of BDSM fun in the process...

Tiltle: Forgive Us
Author Lynn Kelling
Series: Deliver Us: Books 3 
Also part of: The Society of Masters
Genre: M/M BDSM Contemporary
Length: Novel
Buy Link: Fantastic Fiction 
Publisher: Forbidden Fiction

To everyone else, Trace is an enigmatic and carefully controlled Dominant. He runs Diadem, a private BDSM club, is a Master and mentor to his fellow Doms and their lovers—Gabriel, Darrek, Ben, and Kyle—while trying to be Master and lover for Micah. Trace is the one to step in when anything or anyone threatens his closest friends, yet he realizes he is in over his head when haunting events of the past endanger everyone's lives. Trace is forced to call on old connections for help from the world he tried to leave behind—the Master's Circle in England. Tensions rise to a fever pitch as Trace's hidden truths shake up the lives of everyone in his tangled, tight-knit family.
For over a decade, Trace, the founder of private BDSM club Diadem, has been living under an assumed name with hardly any ties to his past as a prostitute and Master’s Sub with the Master’s Circle. It’s a mix of chemistry, burning passion and decadent distractions which ignite the spark of hope that old wounds can heal, forgiveness might still be had, and that the future is full of tempting possibilities.


“Stand up. Relax,” he tells Micah, speaking with authority in order to cut through anything causing Micah to doubt himself.

“Sir.” Micah gets to his feet, standing straight as an arrow, his caramel-brown eyes unfocused, his attention caught on something internal. A frown line creases Micah’s brow and dark circles are visible under his eyes. Trace knows the worry about Kyle, Darrek, and Gabriel has been eating at Micah, but that doesn’t explain the look of him entirely. There has to be something else going on, but Trace can’t handle anything else. There’s already too much wrong.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Trace wraps a hand around Micah’s jaw. It’s warm and rough to the touch, covered in dark stubble. The tilt of his head, the downward cast of his gorgeous eyes, ringed with dark, thick eyelashes, the sensual shape of his lips—it’s so intoxicating. There’s something there, Trace knows, in the spark of rightness between them. The balance of give and take, the equality of what each of them brings and gives away freely to the other, makes sense in so many ways everything else does not. It’s more effective shelter from the forces seeking to harm them than any house or physical structure could ever be. Simple, pure, safety and unconditional acceptance is what they each provide.

Together at last, they can each breathe a little easier. The weight of dread lessens, if only for a moment.

“Can I just check something real quick, before we talk? Didn’t think you’d be here, love. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Of course,” Micah murmurs, barely audible, looking like he’s trying not to cry, making Trace want to scream with rage at the unfairness of it all.

This fuckin’ day. This fuckin’ life.

Trace walks into the adjoining room where his computer is plugged in. He boots it up and keeps Micah in view while he waits. Dressed in khaki pants and a pristine, button-down, light blue shirt which suits his olive complexion perfectly, Micah stands there in the middle of the room like someone’s been beating on him. His outward appearance is so refined, but inside he’s in pieces, held together with wisps of hope. It’s a look Trace might not know, but Patrick does. That thousand yard stare, the wear and tear on the soul, it implies bad shit and hard times.

Turning his attention to the task at hand with effort, instinct telling him to go, and love Micah’s pain away, no matter what it takes to make it happen, Trace forces himself to focus on his desk. Booting up his computer and opening his internet browser, Trace checks an email account—the one he shares with Yasha to pass messages back and forth safely.

The account has been deleted.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pounding a fist on the desk, wanting to scream again, but managing not to. It’s expected but shitty nonetheless. If Yasha is really out of the game, the biggest, best way to make a clean break is to delete all of the accounts tying him to people like Patrick.

He checks the next email account that comes to mind, and the next, and the next. He goes through the whole mental list, finishing with the one he shares with Nicholai, the man who had been Patrick’s Master. The accounts are all the same. No change, no new messages. The latest messages are the ones Patrick left for the others. None have been read. No activity. No new information. It’s as quiet as the grave.

It’s not good.

The feeling of being stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere, with no one aware of where he is or how he’s surviving, used to be comforting. It’s not anymore. Now isolation only breeds desperation and dread, and mostly because his island now has multiple inhabitants, all of them counting on him to get them through. Little do they know they’re relying on such a basketcase.

“Okay. It’s okay. Priorities. Protect the family. Keep the kids safe,” he murmurs under his breath, a mantra. There’s a locked file on his desktop. He clicks on it, types in the password. Information spills out, flooding the screen. It’s all there—beautiful, glorious fact. He skims it, just to ground himself, to remember what’s true. The information on that screen narrows the possibilities about what could be happening with Gabriel and Darrek. But he can’t tell them about it. He can’t tell anybody.

At least his focus has been narrowed. The path he must take becomes clearer.

He closes the file. He closes his browser. He shuts down the machine.

At last, he doesn’t have to fight the pull on his heartstrings any longer. He leaves the rest of his worries behind and goes to find out what’s wrong with Micah.

Friday, 2 May 2014

Cover Reveal: Breakdown: Don't: Book 3

I know Antidote's being released in a few weeks, and y'all haven't read it yet, but...

I just wanted to reveal the cover for Don't 3: 


It's changed from the title Splintered Kisses, but this one kind of grabs the short curlies on the dark and dirty content a lot more. We're also at proofing stages with this beauty, so fingers crossed, it won't be long before it's available too.

The blurb will be along shortly, but I can say that this one ties in very closely to Antidote. And for the few who have read Antidote, four little words:

Jack, Gray -- meet Martin.