Sedonia Guillone

Every writer does this – fantasizes about whom they would cast if one of their books was made into a movie. Every so often I find the actor who perfectly fits my image of a character. I’m finding a few and will post them over the coming weeks. I totally have a major fantasy about my White Tigers series being made into an HBO kind of series (*dreamy sigh*) and I foung the actor who could be Ryu (Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d).
His name is Kimura Takuya. I first saw him in a wonderful murder myster/sci-fi, comedy type of series from Japan called Mr. Brain which I totally recommend. Then I watched another series, The Smile Has Left Your Eyes with him that was heavy but good in its way. I was watching and I said, he looks exactly how I envision Ryu – right down to his skin. The sweet intensity in the eyes, the soft features. His build too is just how I pictured Ryu’s – slim and wiry. He’s perfect. (In addition to being a wonderful, compelling actor.)

Please forgive my bragging and strutting, but it’s always so gratifying to get one of these! Here’s the review itself:

Boston cop Frank ‘Kaz’ Kazaminsky is in a strip club to meet his date Steve, only to discover that Steve has dumped him. Disappointment turns to desire when Kaz gets an eyeful of sexy stripper Damien, but Kaz is also concerned by the actions of one of Damien’s fans, Lance. Suspicious of Lance, Kaz follows him and prevents Lance from raping Damien.

Damien’s been through tough times before and he refuses to be a victim again. He’s attracted by Kaz’s protective nature and before long the two men become lovers. But then a call comes through to Kaz-Lance has been found dead outside the club. At first Kaz is worried that Lance’s death is related to the fight they’d had earlier, but then he learns that Lance was drugged a couple of hours before his death. But who would want to murder Lance and why? As Kaz works through the investigation, Damien becomes one of the suspects…

Barely Covered is the prequel to Barely Undercover, and I’ve got to say Sedonia Guillone made me fall in love with these guys all over again! She’s an expert at creating hot, very masculine men who can show their tender feelings in a believable and compelling way. I loved Damien’s uncertainty about reconciling his two sides-the stripper and the college student-and Kaz’s family background explains his need to protect people but also to protect himself. The detective story is just as exciting as the red-hot romance. Barely Covered is a tense, emotional and very romantic read, and I thoroughly recommend it.

While doing research for my book – no, not this kind, strangely enough, lol – I stumbled across this image.

For a breath-stopping moment I stared. I tried to enlarge the picture, dirty girl that I am, but to no avail. This was the largest one I could get my hands on. Wah!

Anyway, I think he is an athlete or someone else famous whom I never heard of. Unlike David Beckham, who is also a breath-stopper, he doesn’t have his own fragrance and all that, so did not come within my purview.

If you know, please tell me!

Incidentally, looking at him more closely, for these things require examination, he does perfectly fit the image for my hero Jack Cade in the WIP I’m currently writing. I spoke about it in the previous entry. I’ll reveal a bit more – title: Acts of Passion. Stay tuned for blurb and yummy sneak peek!

Thanks! Sedonia

I’ve just begun writing a new m/m suspense, murder mystery as part of a collaboration with wonderful erotic romance author Carol Lynne. Yay! I’m really excited about this project. Stay tune of course for a blurb and sneak peek of my story.

The only hint I’ll give for now is this: for those of you who’ve read His Beautiful Samurai, you may remember that the hero Toshi, refers sometimes to his first lover back in college, a young teaching assistant in the psychology department, Michael. Well, in this current piece, Michael is one of the heroes. It’s time for him to have someone special and to have some attention.

Okay, so you’re wondering, where does the hairstyle part come in? Today while I was working on the description of both heroes, Michael and Jack, I said to myself, I need to really see pictures of different men’s hairstyles so I can describe them vividly and really bring the two heroes to life. Well, I found this amazingly cool website, www.coolmenshair.com that has just about every conceivable men’s style and lots of pictures of adorable men to go with it. I’ve had a ball just looking at each of the styles and the pics that go with them and found the perfect hairstyles for both heroes in the story. Sometimes research can be a lot of fun!

I was very honored to find out about this Recommended Read from Coffeetime Romance for Barely Covered! I may even have shared this review earlier on the blog but at the time didn’t know it had won an award. Wow!

Five Cups from Coffeetime Romance:

Sedonia Guillone once again showcases her amazing talent with Barely Covered. Damian is a wonderfully developed character that Sedonia makes all too human to the reader and clearly shows that being a stripper is more than the sum of their job. The investigation into the would be rapist and ultimate victim is conducted wonderfully and it is so very hot that Kaz puts his career on the line for the stripper he only spent one night with. Frank is a hero truly worthy of praise. Barely Covered should be savored; it is as delicious as the finest wine.

Read steamy excerpt!
Buy as e-book from Ellora’s Cave!

As usual, I have no real control over which manuscript I work on at any given time. It’s my muse who decides what I work on and when. If I don’t obey her, writing doesn’t go well. If I listen to what she tells me to work on, things go smoothly.

So, now, the piece I’m working on is Men of Phuket: Thai’ing the Knot, a sequel to Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d. I just wrote about 1k right now and it took a philosophical turn I wasn’t expecting, which is why I understood in that moment why I must listen to what’s going on inside me when I work and not dictate terms.

In case it sounds at all enticing, here’s a blurb and teaser from Nat and Ryu’s continuing story:

Four months ago on assignment to protect Ryu from a psycopathic gangster, ex-boxing champion-turned-cop Nat Phoenix fell in love with his sexy charge. Four months later, Nat’s feelings have only deepened and all he wants to do is exchange vows with Ryu, the White Tiger who has completely captured his heart, body and soul.

But before Nat has a chance to pop the question, tragedy forces him back to Bangkok where he must stand trial, accused of serious misconduct on the very case that brought him and Ryu together. Could he be facing prison and what could be a permanent separation from Ryu? He won’t let Ryu come to his aid which would mean giving up his boxing career and fading chances at glory. And Ryu would give those all up in a heartbeat to help Nat, but for another emergency that keeps him in Tokyo. Forced to stay behind, Ryu must confront the demons that threaten his and Nat’s bond and fight for the love he’s waited for his whole life…

Unedited excerpt:

The second Nat woke up, he knew something was wrong. A familiar, heavy feeling pressed on his chest, the way it had nearly twenty years ago the day his twin brother had gotten sick and died.

Nat’s skin prickled. Ryu. Nat turned his head and braced himself. But his lover lay peacefully, eyes still closed, long lashes like dark brushes on his delicately rounded cheekbones. Nat scanned Ryu’s body, from the nicely-shaped fingers curled by his sleeping face on the pillow, over his wiry physique of colourful tattoos. Cherry blossoms bloomed over Ryu’s shoulder, the branch ending in artful curls on biceps and triceps.

The down-filled comforter had slipped down to Ryu’s slim hips and Nat scanned every part he could see. Portions of the white tigers leaping over Ryu’s skin showed on his ribcage. Over his lat muscle, was a portion of a samurai’s kimono. Nat knew the drawing of the two kissing samurai well by know, having had the opportunity to see Ryu’s naked back everyday for the past four months.

Ryu took a deep breath in his sleep and turned slightly. He seemed fine, yet the heavy feeling remained.

Was it about Ryu? Nat closed his eyes briefly. No. His intuition, finely honed from years of police work, did not sense a problem there. Yet, there was something. That question. The question he wanted to ask Ryu for the last few weeks. He’d already bought the ring on the sly, in the bit of time he actually wasn’t in Ryu’s presence. All the other guys here in the White Tiger knew about it and were doing a damn good job of keeping it a secret from Ryu. It was just a matter of when to ask. Of that he was uncertain.

Kiku, the owner of this place, Ryu’s best friend in the world as well as his protector and mentor, had said that when the time was right, Nat would know in his heart.

The time wasn’t right yet.

But that wasn’t the source of the bad feeling.

Bracing up on his elbow, Nat watched Ryu sleep. That at least was something he knew about. Watching Ryu doing anything was pleasurable. In sleep, Ryu looked nothing short of an angel.

Ryu blinked. He let out a long exhale and looked up.

Damn. Staring at Ryu had woken him up. Nat chided himself silently. He should have known Ryu would be sensitive, even in his sleep.

“Are you all right?” Ryu immediately levered up onto his elbow. He scrubbed his free hand over his face. His eyes, though concerned, still looked sleepy, and his hair stood up in bed-head spikes which framed his classically beautiful face. Too sexy for words.

Nat watched him another second. If he lied, Ryu would know immediately and hound him for the truth. He shrugged and heaved a sigh. “I’m troubled, but happy to see you.”

A smile stretched Ryu’s pouty lips. He fell back against his pillow, his gaze still on Nat. “If I didn’t have a practice spar today,” he said, “I’d show you my gratitude for those kind words.”

Nat smiled back at him. “If you didn’t have a practice spar, I’d let you.” It was a policy of theirs not to have sex the same day Ryu had a fight, practice or otherwise, for as Ryu put it, he had to conserve his qi. Nat’s cock tightened and rose under the covers. He did his best to ignore it. Later, once Ryu had completed his fight, there’d be time for that.

Ryu’s smile faded. “What are you troubled about, Nat?” He turned on his side and rose up again on his elbow.

“I don’t know. I just woke up with this…feeling.”

Ryu’s almond-shaped eyes widened. “You’re not…having doubts, about us, are you?”

“God no.” Nat didn’t hesitate on that, not only because it wasn’t the problem but because he hated for Ryu to be scared a second about them. He’d given Ryu enough grief their first meeting when Kiku had sent Ryu to Thailand for protection from a psychotic yakuza boss, and then again, when that mission had finished and he and Ryu knew there was something between them, he’d said nothing and let Ryu return, hurt and frustrated to Tokyo. When Nat had taken the leap two weeks later and followed Ryu here, taking an emergency leave of absence from the Thai Royal Police in order to be with him, he’d sworn never to let Ryu have another moment’s grief. Though with this nagging sense of foreboding, he wasn’t sure that would be possible. “Listen, Ryu, you never have to worry about that again.” Nat still remembered watching Ryu’s cab pull away from the curb on the way to the airport. Ryu’s face through the window had been so hurt. Disappointed.

Relief flickered over the other man’s softly rounded features. “Can you talk about what it is?”

“I would. If I knew.”

Ryu sat up now, dislodging the covers and Nat got an eyeful of his morning hard-on which bulged through the skin-hugging white boxer briefs he’d worn to sleep. No nakedness to tempt them. He leaned over and pressed a soft, quick kiss to Nat’s lips. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll help you, right?”

“Of course I know.”

Ryu nodded. “Better get going, I guess.” He pushed away the covers and rose from the bed.

Nat watched him disappear into the bathroom. Instead of getting up himself, he clasped his hands behind his head and listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Ryu’s morning relief streaming into the toilet, the flush, the turning on of the shower. Ryu showered even before sweating at the gym. He had a thing about bodily cleanliness that went beyond…normal.

Nat smiled briefly to himself. It was one of the quirks he’d found charming about the man back in Phuket at the training camp where he’d passed Ryu off as a student.

Steam filled the bathroom and Nat sat up quickly and leaned forward, stealing a glance into the bathroom.

Bull’s eye. Ryu had just pulled off his boxer briefs and was opening the glass door of the shower. That erection Nat had seen underneath the boxer briefs still poked heavenward. Not large and thick but perfect, delicious, just the right amount of tiny veins and blushing colour, the lobes of the head smooth and lickable. And Ryu’s sac underneath, juicy and plump, fit perfectly in Nat’s hand when he palmed them.

Too soon, Ryu stepped into the shower and disappeared behind the cloud of steam. The glass door shut, leaving Nat alone with his own hard-on. Heaving a deep sigh, Nat lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The tightness in his cock beckoned but he continued to ignore it. He needed to conserve his own qi. Ryu’s voice, singing, caught Nat’s ear. Nat listened. Ryu was singing a song in Japanese, a rock ballad by a singer he listened to sometimes. Gackt. Funny name, but Ryu liked the guy, and when Ryu liked someone, he was a fan for life. Nat knew this, having seen the scrap book Ryu had kept since his late teens on Nat’s career. Every little news article in Thai, Japanese or English Ryu had found went into that scrapbook. Cheeks blushing, Ryu had finally shown it to him last weekend.

That’s when the thought of popping the question had popped into Nat’s mind.

“Nat?”

A deep voice came from the other side of the soji screen door. Kiku.

Nat sat up, frowning. Kiku never came to the door. Must be something important. Nat’s stomach tightened. “Yes?”

He threw back the covers, glad for his boxer shorts, and crossed over to the door, which he slid open.

Kiku bowed his head respectfully. Once a yakuza boss, he’d gone legit and converted this place from an illegal gambling parlour to a beautiful men’s hotel. A long rivalry with his boss’s son, Taro Suzuki, however, now showed on Kiku’s face. Even though Ryu had ended it all four months ago in a heart-stopping way, Kiku had aged considerably. His still ruggedly handsome face had lines around the eyes and mouth, his eyes deeply sad in spite of the humour and compassion that also showed in their depths. “Nat, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Ryu’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a few minutes.”

But Kiku shook his head. “I’m not here to speak to him. There’s a call for you downstairs in my office. He identified himself as Agent Chuek. He needs to speak with you.”

Nat’s blood froze. “Not my parents I hope?” He spoke to his mother and father regularly, but they were older, so he worried.

“He said to tell you your parents are fine. Not to worry. It isn’t something like that. But it is terribly urgent.”

“I’ll throw on a shirt and come right down.”

Nat grabbed a t-shirt out of a drawer, slipped it on and told Ryu where he was going.

Ryu poked his head out of the steam, a sheen of water darkening his already golden tan skin. Water beaded on his lips. “Nothing serious, I hope?” Ryu’s brow crinkled in the middle. He was always worried Nat would have to go back to Thailand to work.

Nat stepped forward and brushed a kiss over his lips. He resisted the urge to linger and slip his tongue in against Ryu’s. Ryu was the best kisser in the world and even a tiny peck caused tingles through Nat’s body. He pulled back. “I hope not too. At least it’s not a family emergency.”

“Please let me know as soon as possible.”

“I will.” He watched Ryu disappear into the steam again before going downstairs.

Daisuke, a masterless samurai, catches Genji, a traveling actor or ‘flying fish’ right out of a hot spring. But can he reel in his beautiful catch without destroying them both? Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.

eBook Publisher: Loose Id, LLC, Published: 2009
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2009
Buy at Fictionwise

Excerpt:
Genji’s eyes shot open. Sunlight flooded them, blinding him for a moment. All the nerve endings along his skin crackled to life. He strained to hear, and his body tensed, ready to spring from the water for his knife an arm’s length away.

Another crackle of twigs.

He sat bolt upright. “Who’s there?” he growled.

Silence.

Genji might have thought it was an animal in the brush, but his inner voice told him otherwise. It whispered to him that he shared this tiny oasis with another human being. Someone who’d been spying on him, watching him wash his hair.

Genji leaned over, slipped his hand within the folds of his kimono, and wrapped a hand around the hilt of his tanto, a gift from a high-ranking samurai, one who had patronized Genji’s talents in the past, both on and off the stage. “Answer me,” Genji said, his voice tight. Years of acting had taught him how to infuse his tone with whatever emotion was needed for effect. In this instance, he sought for threatening. “I’m armed. I know how to use this knife.” Indeed, he could follow his threat with action. That same samurai had taught him some basic swordsmanship, in between sessions of intense lovemaking.

Silence still answered him, yet the sense of another human presence remained.

Genji slid the tanto from its scabbard.

“If you don’t show yourself on the count of three,” Genji went on, gaze trained on the rocks that hid part of the brush, “I will climb from this pool, seek you out, and gut you. Don’t think I won’t do it.” Though slim and narrow in build, with finely etched muscle and not the brawn of a highly trained samurai or laborer, Genji had speed and agility. As a dancer, he’d found the principles of movement were the same.

“Relax, peasant,” a voice said suddenly from behind the brush. “I’m obeying your order.”

Genji’s insides jumped. The voice, deep and male, held a hint of mockery tinged with admiration. Though the owner of the voice hadn’t threatened his safety, Genji continued to hold his knife at the ready, should the stranger indeed mean him harm.

The leaves and branches of the brush rustled and snapped, and within seconds, a figure emerged. He came to a stop at the edge of the rocks.

Genji stared, blinking, not so much because the glare of the sun made a halo of blinding light around the stranger’s broad figure, but because when the man moved so as to block the sun from Genji’s eyes, the vision before Genji was that of a wild warrior.

Darkness. The word rose in Genji’s mind as the stranger moved a few steps closer. Dark eyes, swarthy skin, jaw and cheeks covered with more than a few days’ growth. And though his abundant black hair was pulled back, much of it had escaped its tie and rioted about his rugged face.

The man, obviously a samurai of some sort, would have been handsomely imposing had his clothing not been ragged and desperately in need of washing, even his rope sandals, though Genji felt certain that the blades of his weaponry, long sword, short, and knife, were polished to perfection within their woven scabbards. The hands that handled those weapons were large, fingers thick, and his legs in their gaiters below the hem of his kimono were also thick, muscled limbs of coiled strength.

Genji’s tanto and his limited ability to use it were a mere joke in the face of this obviously skilled warrior, however ragged and dirty his state. His fear must have shown, for the stranger gave him a sudden lopsided grin and began to untie his belt, lowering his weapons to the rocks.

“I apologize for coming upon you the way I did, like a sneak thief,” the samurai said. His hands went to the tie of his kimono and worked it open. “I thought you were a woman when I saw you from a distance, washing that hair.”

Genji exhaled a tiny bit. But only a bit. He set his tanto onto the rock behind him, an excuse to avert his gaze from the thickly muscled torso being revealed. For some reason, the man’s growing nakedness made Genji feel testy. “So you would have continued to spy on me, taking advantage of my undress had you not seen I’m a man?”

The samurai didn’t answer, though his dark gaze shifted away from Genji in a way that appeared guilty. He removed his gaiters, unwrapped his loincloth, dropping everything on top of his other ragged clothing, and Genji got an eyeful of the samurai’s musuko. Even in its softened state, the member hinted at delicious thickness when erect. The sac beneath it was equally abundant-looking, heavy and full.

The samurai leaned down, turning halfway as he began to lower himself into the water. His meaty leg and ass muscles flexed as he climbed down into the pool and settled on the other side. Genji didn’t know if there was a rock ledge to sit on over there, but he didn’t offer the space beside him in spite of this warrior’s handsome appearance. He entertained enough samurai already, nearly every evening after the day’s performances. His life was not his own, and it was a blessing for him that he loved the theater, otherwise he would have gone mad and committed hara-kiri long ago with his own knife.

Without meaning to, Genji caught a glance of the way the waterline lapped at the samurai’s chest and gleamed on the golden hue of his skin, just beneath the large, dark rounds of his nipples.

“To answer your question,” the samurai said finally, “yes, I would have continued to spy on you, as crude as that may be.”

Genji blinked again, struck at the man’s honesty. That, at least, was refreshing. Not all samurai were as noble as their warrior’s code demanded they be.

“Even after you first spoke,” the samurai went on, “I wasn’t sure of your sex. Your voice is soft and gentle even though you tried to sound fierce. It took many moments of debating whether to show myself. Only when you turned around and I saw your male chest did I knew I could come out without making you scream.”

Genji continued studying him as he spoke. The samurai’s voice was deep, each word saturated with emotions. The explanation made some of Genji’s apprehension ebb, and he nodded. “I see.”

The samurai cupped some water and splashed his face. Shiny droplets clung to the heavy, dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw. “You must be a boy, then, by your smooth appearance.”

“No.” Genji lifted his chin. “I’m in my twenty-fifth year.” Truthfully, he’d not been a boy since the invasion, a violence that had ripped him from childhood and thrown him into the constant struggle for survival.

His bathing companion looked doubtful for a moment but then nodded and continued to wash himself. He came away from the edge to the center of the small pool and dipped underneath the surface, scrubbing at his skin when he rose. His large hands slid over his arms and chest, making the water stream off his skin.

Genji tried not to watch him while that testy feeling intensified. He shifted in his seat. “I’m not a peasant either,” he said to the man’s back. Water soaked the man’s thick hair, making it shine in the sun, and those thick back muscles flexed and bunched as he washed himself. Genji had nothing against peasants, of course. His parents had been peasants who’d served the lord of their province within the grounds of the castle keep before the invasion. But Genji hadn’t had the chance to grow up as a peasant once he’d been sold into service of Shizu, the theater troupe’s director. And so, his occupation, the very thing that had formed his identity as a human being, was of utmost importance to him and would be known. Even to this bedraggled-looking warrior.

The samurai turned and regarded him. More water beaded off his broad chest and down his taut abdomen. “What are you then?”

Genji squared his shoulders a bit. “An actor.”

The samurai’s eyes widened with a look of amazement. “Ohhhh,” he said in a hushed whisper, as if a great honor were being conferred on him. Then he bowed, his face nearly touching the surface of the water.

Genji’s cheeks burned. Was the samurai mocking him?

But when the other man straightened, his expression seemed sincere. “You must be famous,” he said.

“You don’t need to make fun of me just because I am part of a traveling troupe.”

The samurai’s brow furrowed. “I make fun of no one.” He bowed again. “I have never met an actor before.”

Genji studied him as his indignation faded. Judging from the wild look of the man, it was certainly possible he didn’t patronize the theater as so many of his class did. Then Genji understood his own agitation. “I apologize,” he said softly. “I see you weren’t mocking me. I’m not accustomed to a … response such as yours.”

“Oh.” The samurai bowed again, and Genji felt his cheeks tingle a bit. In spite of their strange introduction, the warrior seemed to possess the sense of honor exhorted by the samurai code, a quality Genji found attractive.

“My name is Genji,” he said, feeling his heart open a bit toward the samurai. Politeness went quite far with him since so many patrons saw his occupation as an excuse to make him an immediate object of their carnal appetites without regard for his feelings. “Sakura Genji.” Sakura was a surname he’d given himself, not only because he found cherry blossoms beautiful, but as a stage name, it had a touch of romance to it. He also felt it would honor his parents. They’d have been proud to know their son had earned the honor of a surname, even if he had to confer the honor upon himself as he grew older and earned his promotion from stagehand to understudy to first performer.

The samurai bowed yet again. “Minamoto,” he said, “Minamoto Daisuke.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Genji paused before speaking again. “Which lord do you serve?” he asked and immediately regretted his question.

Minamoto’s face darkened, and the wildness Genji had first seen came forth in his look.

“I serve no lord,” he said quietly. “I’m a ronin.”

A masterless samurai. There were many of those in the world. For various reasons, these warriors roamed the countryside, using their skills for their own purposes, never swearing fealty to one lord. Indeed, the status explained Minamoto’s unkempt state. The occupation of ronin never held the promise of steady employment, especially in a time as relatively peaceful as this one, when a swordsman’s skill was not so much in demand.

Genji sought to lighten the sudden mood. There was something underneath the ronin’s demeanor that made Genji uneasy in spite of the man’s apparent honorability. “Well, then, we have something in common,” he said.

“What is that?” Minamoto looked genuinely curious.

“Neither of us stays long in one place. You’re a ronin, and I’m a tobiko.”

Minamoto broke into a grin. He laughed then, a deep, rich laugh that did, indeed, release the darkness of the previous moment.

Genji found the laughter infectious and joined him. Their combined voices echoed into the air, Minamoto’s deep sound and Genji’s higher, melodious one, blending into the sweet summer air and the birdsong in the surrounding trees. Life held some truly pleasant moments for Genji at times, and this was one of them.

When their mirth had passed, Minamoto regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “I wouldn’t have thought of such a comparison, but you’re right, after all. The world holds great uncertainties for both of us.”

Genji nodded, then saw the samurai’s look shift, as if his own words had made him think of something he’d left behind while laughing. Feeling suddenly shy, Genji shifted his gaze to the water. “This is certainly a beautiful spot,” he said. The mood had darkened again, and Genji understood. Minamoto carried this darkness with him. It was part of him, like a precious treasure to which he clung for survival. Being an actor had sensitized Genji to the inner workings of human beings. After all, he needed to access the depths of human existence in order to portray it effectively onstage through song and dance.

“It is beautiful,” Minamoto agreed. “I’ve soaked here many times.”

“Oh, so you’ve been in the province before.”

The darkness seemed to close in like a shadow over Minamoto’s handsome face. “I lived here for some time, years ago.”

“I see.” Genji remained quiet. It wasn’t his way to pry into others’ lives. He’d learned long ago to mind his own affairs. Yet it often didn’t matter. For whatever reason, he had a way about him that made people feel able to bare their souls to him and so had often learned more than he wanted to know of others’ depravities and secrets.

A tormented look tightened Minamoto’s features. “It’s no secret why I lived here and why I left. No doubt you’ll hear the gossip once people see I’ve returned.”

Genji’s insides jumped. Apparently, the ronin sensed this thing in Genji as well. It was inescapable. “I never pay heed to gossip,” he said. “It’s belittling. Unworthy of even the lowliest peasant.”

A moment of silence passed, and Genji thought his response had ended their conversation, but Minamoto spoke again.

“Five years ago, the lord of this province murdered my wife,” he said quietly. “Shot her with an arrow while he was out hunting. She was collecting flowers. They were still in her hand when she was brought to me.”

Genji stared at him. It occurred to him perhaps the lord had been hunting and mistook the woman’s movement for a game creature, but deep inside, he knew it wasn’t true. The act had been committed in cold blood. The truth was in Minamoto’s eyes.

“I was a threat to him,” Minamoto continued. “The aid I gave to certain of his vassals made him distrust me. He did it to rid the province of me. He succeeded. I could not stay here after that … and be reminded of her. Everywhere I looked.”

“I’m truly sorry,” he said softly. Clearly the ronin still grieved. The woman’s death had obviously been a loss from which Minamoto felt he could never return. Perhaps that was the cause of the darkness Genji had sensed in the man.

Minamoto’s stricken eyes went to him. The sympathy he read on Genji’s face seemed to soothe him, for his look shifted to something softer. He nodded an acknowledgment of Genji’s kindness to him. “Since then, I’ve traveled every inch of Japan, been to every province, and studied with the greatest swordsmen of each fiefdom.”

The samurai’s voice took on an edge as he spoke. There was a hunger in his eyes Genji had seen before in the warriors of his class. So many of them possessed fighting skills beyond anyone’s imagination, and in this peaceful time, they had no outlet other than to challenge each other to duels or to protect villages from gangsters and bandits. From the way Minamoto spoke, and from what he’d just revealed about his past, Genji felt certain as to the destructive course this man actually followed. Minamoto was a man consumed, devoured from the inside by his own life. The understanding formed in Genji’s mind and heart as he watched the steam rise from the water’s surface around Minamoto’s damp torso. Minamoto was a living, breathing figure of tragedy.

The understanding softened Genji a bit more toward the man. As much as he ever wanted to remain aloof from anyone for his own protection, he was never able to do so, as if some sort of natural barrier that other people had was missing from him. “Perhaps it’s none of my business,” Genji began gently, “and please tell me if it is not, but what brought you back to this province?” Something gave him the feeling it wasn’t to revisit the place where he had lived with his wife.

That darkness settled over Minamoto again. “I have unfinished business here.”

The answer confirmed his suspicions. Yet Minamoto’s intentions were none of Genji’s affair. Genji’s existence was devoted to playing the Flower Maiden, a role for which Shizu had meticulously trained him since buying Genji off the platform.

Genji nodded and remained respectfully quiet. The slant of the sun told him it was time to return to the village. His troupe had just arrived the previous day, and their stage would be near completion. Rehearsals would go on this evening, and then when the news of their arrival had spread, there would be the usual wandering in of samurai looking for an evening’s companion. Genji sighed. “I must return. I have a few moments to dry out on the bank, and then I will go back.”

The ronin started as if given a shock. He bowed to Genji. “I’ll accompany you,” he said. “It’s safer not to travel alone.”

Genji hovered on the verge of refusing the offer. After all, he had his tanto and wasn’t afraid to use it … he believed. However, he found Minamoto’s company oddly comforting, showing Genji how lonely he actually felt in spite of his busy life. His fellow tobiko could never really be true friends, even Aoki. Especially Aoki, who coveted Genji’s position in the troupe. Aoki would not want to remain an understudy indefinitely, and so there was always an undercurrent of tension among the troupe members. With a sigh, Genji climbed from the pool, retrieved the pile of his things from the rock, and went to the grass. Retrieving the small bottle of sesame oil from his things, he poured some into his hand and smoothed it into his wet hair. The long strands would comb out much more easily when dry if he worked any tangles out beforehand.

Peripherally, Genji saw Minamoto recline on the grass roughly an arm’s length away. He kept his back turned so as not to steal glances at the samurai’s magnificent, naked physique stretched out on the grass in the sun. Working his fingers down the fall of his hair, Genji turned slightly and caught a glance of Minamoto’s lower body. The man’s musuko was no longer soft between his muscular thighs but stretched halfway erect, blooming with reddish color.

A jolt went through Genji’s body, sending in its wake a series of tingles that concentrated in his own member. He’d thought himself jaded after serving so many samurai with his body, but for some reason, life now infused his male parts, even his nipples, which began to tighten into small, hard peaks. He looked back down, pretending to concentrate on his hair with all his will.

“Your hair is so beautiful.”

Minamoto’s deep voice behind him made a spike of heat through Genji’s middle.

Genji pulled in a small breath. With his fingers still engaged in untangling his hair, he turned. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The samurai had turned onto his side, propped on his elbow, watching Genji tend to his hair as if he were watching something of beauty unfold before him. “I didn’t know a man could move so gracefully … like a swan.”

Heat tingled mercilessly now in Genji’s cheeks. Such praise was a far cry from having his ass grabbed lustfully by a ribald admirer. The occasional riot that had broken out among audiences over Genji’s favors wasn’t nearly as flattering as this simple poetic admiration.

Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. There was no use in entertaining the attention. He had only his survival to think of and would only think of that … until he met the one man in the world he could surrender his heart to. As flattered as he felt, Genji accepted the praise with a mere gracious nod of his head and a smile, then went back to the task of undoing the tangles in his long hair, still vividly aware of the samurai’s admiring gaze on his bare skin.

“Are you spoken for?”

Now, Genji’s heart lurched. He turned again. “Spoken … for?”

Minamoto nodded, his eyes shining toward Genji like a love-starved youth. The samurai’s musuko had stretched fully now and wept a glistening droplet from the tip.

Genji swallowed hard. Many emotions roiled within him at the question. Minamoto was naive, a quality Genji found endearing. If Genji had wanted to, he could have fabricated a lover, or even perhaps a wife waiting in a far-off province for his return. But he found he didn’t wish to lie to this samurai as he sometimes lied to others in order to keep them away. He cleared his throat again. “No. I’m not spoken for.” When the samurai didn’t answer, Genji looked down at the grass, pretending once again to concentrate deeply on combing his fingers through his hair. Sudden movement made his body tense. He froze, waiting.

“Genji.” Minamoto’s voice was closer now. The heat of the larger man’s body whispered over Genji’s skin. A large hand hovered above his shoulder, and the samurai’s breath, harsh and tight, pulsed close to Genji’s face. Genji dared to look up.

And met the samurai’s now-fevered gaze. “May I … touch you?”

Genji’s body began to tremble. No one had ever asked his permission before touching him. The newness, the sweetness of it, made shivers pass through him. “Yes,” he said before thought could intrude.

“Thank you.” The samurai’s voice was husky, tight. His fingers dropped lightly onto Genji’s bare shoulder.

Genji’s heartbeat sped wildly. His eyelids fluttered briefly at the wonder, the need coiled in that small touch.

Minamoto explored Genji’s skin with the most delicate touch, as if it were made of silk. “Softer than I’d imagined,” he said in that same heavy voice, hushed with wonder.

Genji heaved a breath with difficulty now that his heart pounded. His look dropped to the other man’s broad, heaving chest. Minamoto made him feel virginal, new, just by the look in his eyes.

Minamoto’s hand closed more firmly over Genji’s shoulder. Sheer need came through in the light grasp. “Genji, I … want you.”

The man’s other hand encased Genji’s other shoulder, and Genji could only tilt his face upward, imprisoned as he was in that firm yet impassioned grasp.

“Genji,” Minamoto repeated, his voice as tight as his breathing. His musky scent radiated in the warm summer air between their naked bodies. “I want you. Please.”
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I’m making some progress on my current menage a four/sci-fi/futuristic. Have I unveiled the title yet? Can’t remember. It’s: She Belongs to Them All. My boyrfriend gave me this title. He’s brilliant! I love it.

Blurb first:

Sixteen years ago, Rania’s father took her and her mother away from the Wolf and Deer clans, refusing to allow his daughter to be betrothed to three men. He rejects the old ways of their clan and sees his daughter’s destiny as servitude. But Hawk, Shin and Ken, do not forget their bride. No suffering in the following years will keep them from finding her, not the near-destruction of their people, not years in labor camps or starvation will keep them from their quest to consummate their marriage to her.

Which they do, on an Earth outpost sixteen years later. Rania now has a career, a fiance, a life completely apart from the destiny she’d had as a girl. Her three future husbands are willing to compromise: one night with them in an attempt to save their people.

But after such ecstasy, will one night be enough? Will they all want forever, and even if they do, what about the forces that would keep them apart – forces willing to murder in order to do so?

Unedited excerpt:

Chapter One

Terran B, sixteen years later…

That was her.

Hawk’s blood heated as he stared at the woman’s image on the screen. At age twenty-eight, she looked the same. Long straight black hair, high cheekbones, huge brown eyes with thick lashes. The DNA lock never lied. “It’s her,” he said. He’d never forgotten the mere brush of her fingertips on his wrist when she slid the betrothal bracelet containing a lock of her hair onto his wrist.

Neither had Ken and Shin.

Men never forgot their destined mate.

Ken leaned in closer, also staring at the screen. Hawk sensed his friend’s tension, a simmering in the air which told him the shorter man’s body was also remembering their long-lost bride. “Yes, that’s Rania.”

On Hawk’s other side, Shin fingers flew over the keyboard in the process of doing his research. As kids, Shin and Ken had been amazing game hunters. As Intergalactic Space Patrol agents, they’d proven just as adept at hunting down lost people.

Shin pressed a button and another screen in front of them lit up with information. “Says here, Rania Crowe, age twenty-eight, professor of ancient Earth cultures, Terran University. Resides in Garden City, a neighborhood in Terran City. She serves as a consultant to the Intergalactic Unity League.” Shin sighed. “Do you think she possibly knows what happened to us?”

“Or cares?” Ken added.

Hawk stared at her face on the screen. His heart pounded, sending heated blood throughout his body, especially his groin. As if that part of him knew Rania as well, his cock rose, tightening hungrily. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “She’s our mate and we need to get her back.” He’d long ago given up his mental arguments of right and wrong about this issue. Whether Rania knew about the sufferings of the Wolf and Deer Clans, their near destruction, the imprisonments and scattering of their people, didn’t matter. That she had a life and a career on a different planet was of no consequence either. The four of them had been shouldered with the burden of their people’s survival and it was going to happen. Or he’d die making it happen.

He felt Shin’s hand on his shoulder. Though his friend said nothing, Hawk knew the man was agreeing with him and silently supporting him. Though both Shin and Ken had argued the point with him in the past, all through their escape into the mountains, the work camps, near-starvation, murder of many of their clanspeople, and then through their training at the ISP Academy and into their search for Rania, the three of them were firmly unified on this one thing—the Seeing Stone had entrusted them with a great honor and they wouldn’t betray it. Or their people.

“Set a course for Terran A,” Hawk said, still staring at Rania’s image on the screen. “We’ll leave the pod at ISP headquarters and with any luck, we’ll be in Garden City, at her door within two hours.”

“You got it, Boss,” Ken said, humor in his voice.

Hawk sighed. He’d struggled to survive, not only for the sake of his people and his two steadfast companions, but for this moment, the taking of their bride, the ultimate fulfillment of his soul-felt duty. Staring down at the screen, he continued to study Rania’s face. Sixteen years was a long time, more than half their lives. Hawk couldn’t imagine Rania would willingly give herself to three strangers showing up on her doorstep with a lifetime ago claim of betrothal. His stomach tightened at the next thought. At the age of twenty-eight, there was the great chance she was already married, perhaps even with one or more children. What the hell would they do then? He certainly couldn’t kidnap a woman and steal her from her children. In all his struggles for survival, he’d never allowed himself to become a monster. He wouldn’t begin now.

But somehow, no matter what, at the very least, he and Shin and Ken would need to consummate the betrothal, even if they didn’t stay with her.

That decided, Hawk switched the screen to the space traffic channel. During the last part of this journey, the three of them at least needed to act as if they were doing their job of protecting intergalactic airspace from rogue bounty hunters and illegally trafficking space cowboys.

* * * *

“So,” Rania began, preparing to end her lecture on that day’s assignment, “before the Religious Wars on Earth which continued on and off for two centuries, we had many separate distinct cultures who were then forced to mix with their fellow imperiled cultures and blend, adopting new customs while adapting their old customs to the new framework.” She smiled. “Of course, that’s what this entire semester’s course has been about and I have the nerve to summarize in one puny sentence.”

Laughter rippled through the lecture hall.

“But that is precisely what I’m going to ask each one of you to do for you final project. You’re going to take an aspect of culture which interests you the most and compile a detailed analysis of one of the groupings we’ve looked at this semester.” She paced in front of the airboard from which points of light shone, highlighting the day’s lecture. Holding out her pen, she pointed the laser at the corner. “And why am I having you do this? Intergalactic Unity League. The words glowed under her laser pen. “You are to imagine yourselves representative of this organization. In the interest of the advancement of humanity and the prevention of future crimes against one culture or the other, you’re going to present an argument of how the aspect of culture you’ve chosen ,must be preserved and why. Any questions?”

Rania scanned the students’ faces. They all sat, watching her quietly, some faces blank, others seemingly interested by the assignment. Many of them came from some of the very cultures they’d studied. Some of the students had known the horror of deportation, discrimination and coming under siege. While others had never even stood on Earth’s soil with their own feet, children of Terran A, born on an Earth outpost. A few male faces watched her with puppy-love saturated expressions. Very sweet.

Before she could say more, the door opened at the back of the lecture hall. Rania’s heart jumped. Derek stepped inside the door, grinning at her with his clean-cut blond, blue-eyed looks. He held his briefcase in front of him and leaned against the wall, signaling he’d wait for her.

She turned back to her students. “Well, if no one has any questions about the assignment, then you’re dismissed. See you next class.”

In the wake of departing students, Derek pushed away from the wall and went against the tide of bodies moving the opposite direction down the center aisle that separated the two sides of the lecture hall.

Heart beating, Rania pretended to be completely absorbed in the task of gathering her lecture notes and slipping them methodically into her briefcase. “Hey there, beautiful woman,” she heard behind her just as she clicked the buckles shut. Her stomach fluttered. In six months of dating, she always experienced a wave of uneasiness upon first seeing Derek. Strange, considering they’d been friends and colleagues for five years now.

She turned, smiling, her briefcase in one hand. “Hey there.” Derek certainly was handsome. All his students loved him. Her parents loved him. His teeth practically sparkled in the light they were so clean. Derek was perfect in every way and she’d long dismissed her nervousness as a virgin’s inexperience. How she’d managed to stay that way all this time she even wondered, but that was about to end. Hopefully tonight. She’d waited too damn long to take the plunge.

Derek stepped in front of her. Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her lips, lingering there, coaxing her to part her lips with his tongue. She did so, feeling that mixture of anxiety and arousal whisper through her body. When he pulled back, she felt her cheeks burn. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Derek grinned. He was ever confident, it seemed. “No problem, sweetheart. I know you’re kind of new to all of this.”

Hopefully by the end of the night, she wouldn’t be quite as new, but she didn’t tell Derek her intention. She just planned to answer the doorbell tonight in the sheer negligee she’d bought for the purpose.

Derek linked his arm through hers and began to lead her toward the exit. I’ll walk you to the door at least,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“So, what time should I pick you up tonight?”

“How’s eight-thirty?”

Derek frowned. “Eight-thirty? Isn’t that kind of late?”

“I suppose. But I have a pile of exams to grade and I’d rather get them out of the way.”

He looked at her sidelong in a way that conveyed a bit of suspicion. “If you say so.”

She smiled at him though her heart sped up significantly. As always, she felt a niggling doubt about sleeping with him, even though he’d begun discussing the prospect of tying the knot. “Don’t worry, Derek. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you now?” His cavalier humor returned. “Well, I look forward to that.”

At the glass doors to the building, Derek turned to her. Outside, Terran City was busy. Space buses and cars crowded the street beyond the curb and crowds of passersby filled the sidewalk. The opposite side of the street thronged with cafés., bookstores, clothing stores and galleries. Humankind had almost replicated life on Earth. Except for the darkish purple hue of the sky. Never quite brilliant and bright like Earth, something Rania missed at times.

“I have office hours now, as you know,” Derek said, “but I will see you tonight, eight-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

He stepped in to her and kissed her lips again. This time Rania closed her eyes and attempted to savor the tiny thrill the kiss gave her. If only she felt free to open completely to the promise of pleasure. She really should have spoken with her girlfriends more about this stuff. When they pulled away, she swore she saw a hint of darkness in Derek’s blue eyes.

Just as quickly though, it vanished, replaced by his usual self-confident glint. “Until tonight.”

She nodded. “See you then,” she said and went through the glass door he held open for her. Feeling his gaze on her back, she merged into the rush hour crowd and headed the seven blocks toward her apartment building.

Once home, she set down her briefcase and headed right for the bathroom. “Bubble bath, hot,” she said to the house computer. Immediately, the faucet opened and the dispensers shot the jasmine-scented oil she loved into the foaming spray. Her default settings for the bubble bath mode set into motion. The lights dimmed and soft classical music played over the speakers. The candles, she lit by hand then proceeded to undress, slinging her discarded skirt, blouse and under things on a chair in her bedroom.

With a sigh, she went back into the bathroom to brush her hair out and pin it up for her bath while the tub filled. Watching her reflection as she ran the brush through her hair, she pondered her mixed feelings about Derek. The thing that disturbed her as much as her inability to relax into his kiss was how she didn’t look forward to living with him. If they married, shouldn’t she be enthusiastic to nest with him and think about having his children? Yet the thoughts made her feel a bit breathless, but not in the romantic way. It was more a feeling of being closed into a small dark room from which there was no escape. Not the most propitious feelings for the beginning of a lifetime commitment. She would rather keep her own apartment, this little oasis in the busy hectic world of Terran A and her career. Though only a few rooms, she felt plenty of space to move around. She could get up or go to bed as she pleased and not worry about disturbing anyone. She kept the place clean without anyone else to track dirt or leave a cup in the sink for her to wash. Not that Derek would do that, but it was the idea of sharing the space she’d worked so hard to carve out for herself.

The faucet of the bath shut off, leaving only the soft violin music in the background. The scent of jasmine and the vanilla of the candles around the white tub soothed her as they always did. Gladly, she wound her hair into a tight knot and stepped into the tub.

Ahhh. She sank down into the scented steaming water and leaned back, closing her eyes. Strange to think that there was a time she was going to live with three other men, not just one. For some reason though, that thought had never made her feel as claustrophobic. Perhaps because it wasn’t ever going to be a reality. One could always fantasize freely about people and situations that could never actually happen.

And yet, when she thought of Hawk and Shin and Ken, as she fairly often did even after all this time, she hadn’t felt a moment’s fear about becoming their wife. Though she’d only known them as adolescents, even at that age, they’d been admirable, brave, clever and skilled boys. As well as handsome. Even the mere brush of their fingers against her skin as they’d put on her betrothal bracelet had held the promise of sweet and abundant sensuality. She’d hated that her father dragged her away.

Unfortunately, as she’d learned when travelling to Earth with Derek as part of a delegation from the Intergalactic Unity Council, there were only a few survivors from the Wolf and Deer clans and they were scattered between Earth and the two Terran outposts. Aside from them, the rest of her people had perished in labor camps on the outskirts of the People’s Empire which dominated most of the Asian continent.

In spite of her effort to relax, her thoughts returned stubbornly to her musings imaginings about Hawk, Shin and Ken. She couldn’t help wondering what those three men would look like now if they were alive. Unbelievably handsome, no doubt, all three of them with their dark, wild looks. Whispers of arousal began in her clit. She felt her opening tighten the way it did when she got excited, as did her nipples. However, she resisted the urge to reach down and rub her swelling clit until she came. If she was going to make love with Derek tonight, she wanted to be as aroused as possible.

Setting her hands on the sides of the tub, she closed her eyes and listened to the music until the water cooled and it was time to get out and dry off. Slipping into a camisole and pair of baggy pants she loved to relax in, she prepared to spend some time cleaning the apartment and getting it ready for Derek’s visit. When eight-thirty drew closer, she’d put on her negligee.

Back out in the living room, she took out the vacuum instead of using her floor robot to clean. Sometimes it was better to do the work herself. However, halfway through, someone rang the buzzer on her door. She switched off the vacuum and went to the door. Strange, who wouldn’t have buzzed from downstairs to be let in? The only person could be Derek, to whom she’d given the entry code. He was very early, but so be it. Though not in her negligee, her nipples poked through the thin pink material of her camisole. Sexy enough, she supposed.

Pressing the security code, she opened the door. And froze.

Not Derek. Three men, all in tandem. First she took in the Intergalactic Security Patrol uniforms-tight white t-shirts and baggy black pants tucked into boots. Then she noticed how the t-shirts hugged their chest muscles. Then she noticed these men looked distinctly familiar.

Her heartbeat rose and galloped. No. They were dead. All three of them. She’d seen the report herself. Had held the paper in her hands. So had Derek. She stared at them.

The taller man, the one impersonating Hawk, spoke first. “Rania Habib?”

“Y-yes.”

“We’re here,” he said. His dark eyes pinned her, simmering and intense. “We lost you sixteen years ago, but we’ve found you and now it’s time to mate.”

Something happened over the last couple of weeks that has got me writing m/f again. It’s just one of those things that happens on the inside, a clock or something that says now it’s time to do this, etc. NOT that I won’t write anymore m/m. I have several on the writing queue over the months to come, but right now I’m working on an m/m/f/m menage that takes place in the same sci-fi world as Fallon’s Jewel. The title? Here it is: She Belongs to them All. I love it, courtesy of my boyfriend. Blurb and excerpt to come in the days that follow.

The lineup of things to come:

October: Touching Forever, Total-E-Bound
Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat PRINT, Total-E-Bound
December: Yin Yang single title e-book, Total-E-Bound
????? Fantasy Thief, Red Sage

In progress:

She Belongs to them All m/m/f/m
Thai’ing the Knot m/m
Hidden Love m/m (in a joint project with Carol Lynne)
Blind Passion m/m; historical
Plus a couple of others that are in the idea stage.

Now, the man in the picture? One of my favorite actors, Robson Green. We’ve been watching his crime drama series Wire in the Blood in which he plays psychiatrist Dr. Tony Hill, a criminal psychology lecturer who’s a genius profiler and helps the police in the fictional town of Bradfield catch one psychotic killer after the next. I like his looks, kind of a strange-looking yet sexy guy who’s a wonderful actor. I enjoy everything I’ve seen him in and this series, though rough as hell, is fascinating and has inspired some romantic suspense stories, both m/f and m/m, which I intend to start writing when I get a couple of these other projects out of the way.

Just finished writing Fallon’s Jewel this very minute and sent it to my editor for consideration. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I don’t take any acceptance possibilities for granted. Of course, I will let you know when and where the story is placed. I am happy with how it turned out. If you want to see the hunks who are the models for Fallon and Kenji, be sure to look at the two recent posts where I found the guys whom I would cast, were I to have the opportunity to make this book into a film. lol