Sorry I don’t have immediately exciting news to tell. But nowadays I’m grateful for quietness.
However, I AM excited that Yin Yang (White Tigers Series) has this new cover and is slated for single title release on December 21, 2009. Yay! As I mentioned earlier, it also is coming out in audio, I believe for this month but I don’t have a date yet. You will be able to load it into your I Pod if I’m not mistaken. That’s really cool. I can’t wait to hear the book.
Other than that, I’m still working on Acts of Passion. Finished that sex scene I needed to do and there are two more after that plus wrapping up the story in general, which I’m almost finished with. I’m hoping to have it finished within the next couple of weeks.
I’ve included a bit hotter snippet than the last one. Hope you like it! Here goes:
“I beg your pardon?” Cade’s eyebrows rose. The sleepy look washed from his rugged features.
Michael’s heart was already pounding from the restless night he’d spent pacing among unpacked boxes in his new apartment, thinking about the case and his blunder in the medical examiner’s office. Now, standing in front of Cade, the pounding worsened.
Without a shirt on, Cade seemed taller and broader than he had in daylight, dressed. The spikiness of the man’s dark blond hair was more pronounced in its mussed state. In those flashing instants while Cade obviously stood, stunned by his statement, Michael tried not to stare at the broad chest dusted with dark blond hair, at his small tawny nipples, or at the treasure trail down the tight centre of Cade’s abdomen.
“I need you to—“ Oh, shit. Michael nearly physically whacked himself in the head with the heel of his hand. What had he been thinking? Cade probably thought this was a come on. Hadn’t he blundered badly enough today? He was well into the process of alienating the Boston Police Department.
Wouldn’t be the first time he’d alienated detectives with his weirdness. “I meant…I mean, it’s about the case. I’ve been thinking about it all night, trying to put a more accurate picture together for you.” He raked a hand through his hair, relieved at the understanding in Cade’s face.
“Oh, I see.” The larger man stepped aside. “Come in and we’ll…discuss it.”
Michael stepped in and toed off his loafers, leaving on his trouser socks. It was a long-standing habit, learned from his Japanese grandparents and practiced in his parents’ home, even though his father was Italian by heritage and no one on that side of the family ever removed their shoes in the house, except to sleep.
Cade led him into the living space, cosy, with a few bookshelves and a black leather sofa and chair around a round contemporary coffee table. The area rug beneath it, a tasteful looking, somewhat thick carpet of muted swirls of earthtones, was large enough that it expanded well beyond the seating area. Cade stopped there. “Before we start, do you need something to drink? Tea or coffee?”
Michael hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since their meal in the pizzeria, but he shook his head. Bad enough he’d barged in here in the middle of the night. He wasn’t about to expect the man to serve him refreshments. “No, thank you.”
“All right then.” He lowered himself to a kneeling position on the rug. “Tell me what to do.”
Michael’s insides jumped. “Just stay there, like that,” he said. He stared at the man’s perfectly sculpted lines as he took his crumpled jacket off and laid it aside on the arm of the sofa. Tri-athlete, he guessed, judging by the Greek aesthetics of Cade’s physique. Not bulky like a weightlifter, not thin and sinewy like a long-distance runner, but with the in-between balance of someone with inter-disciplinary training. Even Cade’s profile, smooth nose, high forehead, slightly puckered lips, gave him the Grecian athlete look of the great sculptures.
Michael cleared his throat and went around behind Cade. “I was thinking and considering,” he began slowly, pulling his stare off the other man’s hard round bottom as it pressed against his thin cotton pyjama pants. “I’m having difficulty discerning whether the killer is male or female. Of course, even if the killer had a sexual relationship with the victim, we can’t know for certain that it was…heterosexual.” He paused, his mouth suddenly dry.
Cade inclined his head slightly, giving Michael an angle of his profile. “That’s correct,” he said softly.
Michael stood behind him and took a deep breath. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees behind Cade. The closeness gave him a whiff of soap. Apparently, the man had showered not too long ago. “However, statistically speaking, female murderers don’t commonly stab their victims. Only a small percentage do.” He stared at Cade’s hairline as he spoke, at the tiny dark blond spikes against the strong column of his neck. “Men more often stab their victims. Women very often drug their victims.”
“True.”
“In this case, we have both.”
Cade nodded. “Forensically-speaking, a man would have very likely made the cross-cut stabs from the front and then made it appear to have been self-inflicted.”
“My thought exactly.” Michael moved a bit closer, his chest mere inches from Cade’s broad back. “So I tried to put myself in the killer’s place. She…or he…has a drugged man of average size kneeling on the floor. Does he or she simulate the cross-cuts with hands over the victim’s hands on the hilt of the knife? I couldn’t get a true feel for this without another person.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Michael swallowed again, throat parched now. He rose up on his knees and pressed his front against Cade’s back. And pulled in a breath at the feel of hard muscle against his chest. Even through his thin dress shirt, the larger man’s body heat warmed his skin. He rested his palms on Cade’s arms. More hard muscle. He slid his hands down, over the bulges where shoulder blended into triceps, down to corded forearms dusted with soft hairs and on. Finally the pads of his fingertips slid over the tendons of Cade’s large hands and stopped.
Cade’s back rose and fell slightly more heavily than a moment before and the sound of both their breathing filled the space around them. Each push against his chest rubbed Michael’s nipples the tiniest bit. He held his breath a moment. Best to get this experiment done and pull away, before he completely embarrassed himself. “Okay,” he said in a near-whisper, “pretend there’s a knife in your hands and we’re both holding it. You’re weakened from the drugs in your system and unable to fight back effectively. Your body is sleepy and pliable in spite of your terror. You know what’s about to happen to you and are powerless to stop it.”
“Jesus, Di Santo, do you need to go there?” Cade sounded annoyed though his voice was slightly husky.
Michael’s cheeks burned. “Sorry.” He caught another whiff of Cade’s clean scent.
“It’s okay.”
Michael took a breath. He pushed more firmly into Cade’s back then pulled their hands. Slowly, firmly, he simulated the jumonji-giri. Cade’s torso was broad and filled his arms. The man’s breath came in short rasps. His clean male scent hovered in Michael’s senses. The tendons in Cade’s hands flexed against the flesh of Michael’s fingers and palms. It had been forever since he’d had physical contact like this. More than months. More than a year. Not since finding Peter…
He shifted slightly and Cade’s backside brushed his groin. Michael clenched his teeth as his erection, already at half-mast rose and pushed. Shit!
He released Cade and sank down on his heels. “I’m sorry,” he breathed and bowed over, the way he’d seen his Japanese grandparents do many times in his young life. His cheeks burned. Blood swirled through his cock. Every nerve ending in his skin crackled and his heart pumped. No doubt Cade had felt that hard-on press against him. Shit! This was awful. “I’m sorry.”
He could hear Cade turning around but didn’t look up. He was acting like a complete fuck-up but couldn’t stop.
“What are you sorry about, Di Santo?”
To his horror, Michael started panting. His hands started tingling. Dammit, he was starting to have an anxiety attack. “This was…I’m sorry.”
Large hands wrapped around his upper arms. “Hey, look up.”
Michael kept his gaze down. Maybe if he waited a bit, his raging boner would subside.
“Di Santo. Michael. Please, look up.”
Slowly, Michael raised his face.
Cade’s blue eyes stared down into his, full of concern. “You all right?”
Michael blinked. The blood had drained from his mind to his lower regions. Slowly, he nodded then looked down again. Hard to believe he was a man of forty, he felt so absolutely…small.
The corners of Jack’s lips quirked. “Can I call you Michael, now that we’ve been…intimate?” One hand left his arm. Firm fingertips under his chin made him look up.
As promised, here is the blurb and excerpt from my new m/f/m menage. Hope you like!
Now that Acts of Passion and Fallon’s Jewel have been turned in (still waiting, fingers crossed to hear back), my muse has blessed me with the creative energy to work on a couple of m/f/m menages, one of which is already in progress (title: She Belongs to Them All 
I did this last year as well. Sorry! To me, he was one of the coolest. A true hero in so many ways. Needless to say, he has a role in inspiring many of the heroes in my stories.
I received the sweetest e-mail the other day from someone and it just made me float. I wanted to share it with you. (Please forgive me if it comes off as bragging, but I can’t help it. lol)
I was so excited to find two more of my titles up at Amazon Kindle. (At the moment, the blurbs on their pages are the wrong blurbs! For books I didn’t even write. lol. But of course, excerpts and blurbs are available here on my site. Clicke 
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