07 March 2024

Six Moons, Seven Gods by Robert A. Walker Book Tour!

“One must be careful practicing deception. The easiest to deceive will always be one’s self.”

The skilled thieves of the Takers Guild plot to overthrow the kingdoms of Baelon, but when their plans are thwarted by a prescient woman and her brooding daughter, they must turn to the League of Assassins for assistance.

Meanwhile, retired royal guard Rolft Aerns returns to the palace of King Axil with an old score to settle. When they all cross paths–and swords–in the dark shadows of Fostead’s south end, nothing is as it seems and the murder count rises quickly.

The long fingers of the Guild reach everywhere, and one overly ambitious thief is all it takes to spark a chain of events that will haunt the world of Baelon for many years to come.

Praise:
"A fascinatingly detailed and murder-fueled adventure in a violent fantasy setting."
— Kirkus Reviews

“In Robert A. Walker’s Six Moons, Seven Gods, loyalty and treachery entwine, friendships are tested, and dangerous secrets are held close to the heart… a brilliant, compelling narrative that hooks the reader from start to finish.”
— Literary Titan 5-star Review

"...an exceptionally rewarding fantasy. There are twists and turns that will keep you on the edge of your seat, unable to stop reading.”
— Ronél Steyn for Readers’ Favorite, 5 stars

SIX MOONS, SEVEN GODS EXCERPT

Sibil sat on a bed in a servant’s quarters, her head spinning. Had it not been for previous visits to the palace with Princess Lewen, she would not have known where she was. The steward had escorted her briskly to the room some time ago, leaving her to entertain herself.

There seemed no end to the mystery surrounding her mother. Supposed premonitions of death had been unnerving enough, but now… an audience with the king? At his request! It was surreal, and Sibil’s wildest conjectures did not begin to explain it.

Her attempt to seize control of her own life seemed waylaid once again. She was imagining herself a bit of flotsam from a shipwreck, at the mercy of the ocean’s currents, when the steward returned, shutting the door angrily behind himself.

“Where is my mother?” she asked as he approached.

“With the king.” Without warning, the steward sat so close to her their thighs touched.

“I should like to see her.” Sibil started to rise.

“In due time.” The steward caught her arm and pulled her back to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“If your mother were more forthcoming, you would not be so inconvenienced.”

“How do you mean?” Sibil’s eyes darted toward the door.

“The woman’s hiding something. Perhaps you’d like to tell me what that is.”

“My mother has nothing to hide from the king!”

“I could be convinced of that, I suppose.” The steward loosened his hold and placed a palm against Sibil’s cheek. “There are many ways for you to prove your loyalty to the throne.” His hand brushed her breast as he withdrew it. “Are you prepared to do so?” Before Sibil could respond, he leaned in, his lips seeking hers.

Sibil pushed him away, struggling to stand. “How dare you!”

“Need I remind you where you are?” The steward rose, positioning himself between her and the door. “Or who you’re talking to?”

“I mean no disrespect, m’lord, but if you—“

“Take off your blouse.”

“What?!”

“Like mother, like daughter. Take off your blouse and let us see what you are hiding there.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” said Sibil breathlessly. “And if you lay another hand on me—“

The steward grasped her sleeve. Sibil twisted violently away, her blouse ripping at the shoulder seam.

The steward grinned. “You see? One way or the other!” He started to laugh, sobering quickly at the sight of the dagger Sibil produced. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.”

“Take me to my mother!” Sibil waved the dagger at him.

“Did I not warn you about making demands?” The steward lashed out, recoiling as Sibil’s blade pricked his arm. He swore loudly as he inspected the spot of crimson staining his white blouse. “You’ll not soon forget what I’m going to do to you.”

“Touch me and I’ll kill you!” Sibil lurched past the steward and onto the bed, clambering quickly over it, but he intercepted her before she could reach the door. He kicked a stool separating them toward her. Sibil grabbed it and flung it back at him. The stool sailed past the steward’s head and crashed against the door.

“Make all the noise you want,” the steward said. “No one cares!”

Award-winning author Robert A. Walker grew up in Northwestern Massachusetts. After graduating college, he packed his scant belongings in a car with rusted-out floorboards and headed west. He’s lived in California ever since, and now resides along the Pacific Ocean with his wife and dogs. When not fabricating stories, he can be found roaming local tennis courts or working on a never-ending list of DIY house projects.

Visit Robert at his website: https://rawalkerwriting.com/

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Sky Watcher Series Book 4 by Heather Lynn Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours @SkyWatcher.HL @skywatcher_hl #SkyWatcherSeries

I had been there, waiting, between the shadows, every Samhain for the past eight years—she hadn’t come.

Empty Shadows

Sky Watcher Series Book 4

by Heather Lynn

Genre: Historical Fantasy Time Travel Romance

Every year, Charlotte faithfully performs her Samhain ritual, anxiously awaiting her visit with Jessica. But Jessica has not appeared for the past eight years. What could possibly have happened to prevent her from being there?

As a stormy night sets in, Charlotte’s friends arrive entangled in a web of theft and murder. When an old adversary resurfaces with plans of their own, the situation becomes more complicated, and secrets begin to unravel.

In the aftermath, Charlotte and Ben establish the “Doctor’s House”, offering comfort to the ailing. An obscure summons leads them to a stranger being held in the gaol—his presence in the schoolhouse a mystery, the turpentine and striker in his possession leading to more questions. Who is this man? What secrets does he hold? And what does he seek from Charlotte?

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With only a few weeks of school remaining, the students were more than ready for summer. The warmer temperatures often made for disagreeable, sweaty children, but not this day—this day was altogether different.

“What do you think this is about, Ben? Why do you think this guy would want to talk to me?” Charlotte asked as they walked toward the grist mill.

“I have no idea. We just have to wait and see.”

Larry met them at the door, looking very serious. “I won’t beat around the bush. Lenny and Greg caught this man coming out of the schoolhouse this morning. Long story short, when they approached him, he was holding a tin of turpentine and a striker. It looked as if he was trying to start a fire.”

“What? With the children inside?”

“Yes. They each grabbed an arm and held him while they sent one of the children to find me.” He looked at Charlotte now. “Calls himself Carl. He was asking for you, Charlotte, you and Ben. Don’t know why. Would you care to speak to him?”

She looked at Ben; they’d never know what it was about if they didn’t see him. As far as she knew, neither of them knew a Carl, but Charlotte was curious to learn his interest in them. “Yes,” Ben said. He began walking toward the door of the gaol. Larry reminded them he was just outside if needed.

Charlotte followed her husband into the cell and heard the door close behind them. Inside was a man sitting on the edge of the thin pallet—elbows on knees, chin in hands—who glanced up as the door locked. He appeared to be of medium height and build, with short, tousled light-brown hair, and looked to be about forty years old.

“Carl, is it? We were told you wanted to see us?” Ben began.

Carl nodded and offered a nervous smile. “I was not trying to burn down the schoolhouse, not at all. In fact, I was trying to stop what would have become a fire. I tried to tell them, but they didn’t want to listen.”

“I don’t follow,” Ben responded.

Charlotte had been looking at this man’s face, feeling as if she should know who he was, and yet she did not. “I’m sorry,” she started, “but have we met?”

He looked from Ben to her and smiled. “Many years ago.” Her mind was searching, trying to remember. “And not for many years to come.”

Between the Shadows

Sky Watcher Series Book 3

She didn’t see this coming . . .

After glimpsing Jessica’s grief-stricken face reflected in the window, Charlotte Williams—along with her husband, Ben—is pulled back to the future she left behind to help her friend. What Charlotte and Jessica share connects them irreversibly, their lives now intertwined forever. Confident their bond can transcend time, Charlotte returns “home” to her life in the past.

Following a risky time jump, Charlotte and Ben are reunited with their friends and family in 1819 and she resumes her mission to pass on a dear departed friend’s heirloom ring. As they begin to grow their own family, they face a series of challenges, including a surprising opportunity for Ben. The ensuing adventure leads to an inevitable encounter that tests their marriage absolutely.

The love between Charlotte and her friends spans time and space, helping her to define family and what home is. And yet, illusion and betrayal threaten to obscure her reality. Will she come through this with her family intact? How will Charlotte move forward?

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. . . After lighting the white Goddess candle and the red God candle, I quietly welcomed them into my sacred Samhain circle where I would work my will between the human and the spirit world. “So mote it be.” Then I lit the candle in the jack-o-lantern, which was sitting in the West beside a picture of my mother and one of Jessica. I did not intend to call my mum, she told me that it was too difficult for her to come to me here; I simply put her picture there as a reminder of her. “Jessica and Wiccans past, the veil between our worlds is thin, please join me and celebrate.” I picked up the last candle, the white one used to call Jess, and I anointed it with oil, as I spoke. This is the part I’d been waiting for. I lit the candle, sat in front of the altar and relaxed in order to allow our thoughts and feelings to mingle.

I remembered the morning of my twelfth birthday. Mum and I had driven up to the cottage with Jess the night before, singing together with the stereo most of the way. The two of us had stayed up, talking and giggling well into the night. In the morning Mum had made us triple chocolate pancakes, drizzled in syrup and we were talking about what we would do for the day, it was my choice; canoeing, swimming, and tanning were high on the list. Now, I sat in the candlelight smiling as I remembered those happy, carefree feelings. The image changed then as Mum stood up from the table and looked deep into my eyes, she put her hands over her heart and smiled at me with wet eyes, unable, it appeared, to speak. I thought, I love you too, Mum. From the darkness, I began to hear Jessica’s voice. “I called Sarah this evening, Charlotte, you and Sarah,” she said. Mum put her arm around Jessica and the two stood smiling at me, and then it was Gracie who stood beside Jess. I looked at Gracie and thought-asked, It’s true isn’t it? They looked at one another before Jess turned toward me. “Yes, it’s true Charlie, it’s true.” She seemed to be the only one able to speak. I watched her as she turned her head to her right, I followed her line of sight and what did I see? It was Gifted Hands; she was sitting in her chair nursing Mitenah. She looked up as she became aware that we were in the room with her. Her smile, as always, was beautiful. Jess looked back at me now. “I brought us all together. Charlotte, you look . . . Charlie?” She sucked in her breath and tears began to trickle from her eyes. “You’re going to have a baby? I can see its glow within you. Oh my God, Charlotte, how wonderful! And Gracie—” she didn’t finish her sentence, instead she glanced at me—I understood. To Gifted Hands she said, “I thank you for being such a good friend to my Charlotte and for helping to save her. She told me so much about you; I almost feel that I know you. I wish you much happiness, Gifted Hands.” Looking back to Gracie, she said, “Gracie, you must have the soul of Sarah Gray within you, for I have seen it . . . You have been with Charlotte in two lives and you have loved one another so very much in both. I thank you as well, Gracie, and wish you every happiness.” She came back to me, as the others disappeared. “Please, Charlie, while we can, show me what I’ve missed since you returned.”

Déjà-Vu

Sky Watcher Series Book 2

Charlotte Harper’s best friend Jessica is shocked to receive a letter detailing Charlotte’s journey back in time to save her possible ancestor Elizabeth. The letter, written in 1819, speaks of the consequences of Charlotte’s actions and asks for Jessica’s help.

Charlotte’s adventure begins with a Wiccan ritual and spell that takes her back to 1818. After arriving at a small town on the shore of Owasco Lake, New York, she settles in, finding work at the general store to earn her keep. While awaiting Elizabeth’s arrival, she forms strong bonds with those around her, finding herself part of a tight-knit circle of friends and deeply in love.

Charlotte knows that walking through one door often closes many others, so when she dreams of warnings from the future she left behind, she wants to understand. Is Jessica reaching out to her? What is she trying to tell her? Knowing that one single choice can change who is your friend, your lover, who lives and who dies, Charlotte must choose her path wisely so as not to make the same mistakes.

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Prologue

She tucked her purse under her arm and stepped out of the car, ready to make a run for it. The rain was pouring down as she dashed toward the front door. As she turned the key in the lock, she heard a horn beep twice and looked over her shoulder to see a white delivery van pulling into the driveway.

The driver jumped out and walked briskly up the driveway. “Good afternoon. Package for Miss Jessica Miller?” he said, stepping under the overhang.

“Thank you,” she answered as a plastic envelope was placed into her hand. Curious, she stepped inside the house, setting her bag on the kitchen table and tossing her jacket over the back of a chair. Jessica stood at the counter, envelope in hand, and flicked on the kettle; a nice cup of tea would take the chill out of her. She tore open the top of the plastic envelope and then the plain cardboard envelope within it. What she pulled out next was a manila envelope, labelled with her name and address. This contained yet another envelope. What the? She blew a loose bit of hair off her face.

This last envelope was slightly yellowed with faded but still legible handwriting. On the front in pale black ink was her name, Jessica Miller, and the address of this house, Charlotte’s house, followed by the line, Please deliver after April 1st, 2012. Turning the envelope over she saw a red wax seal and a somewhat faded black stamp, that read “Bank of New York.”

She wondered what this could be. It certainly looked old. As far as Jessica knew, she had no business with anyone in New York. She set the envelope on the table and returned to making her tea. Her impulse was to call Charlotte and tell her about this. Had Charlotte been there, she probably would have waited for her to open and read it, but she wasn’t. It was now the second week of May; Charlotte had been gone for seven weeks. It had been a long seven weeks without her best friend to talk to, to laugh with. Jessica missed her so much.

While her tea steeped, she ran upstairs to change out of her office scrubs and into some sweats, slinging her hair up into a ponytail. Now she was ready.

Tea in one hand, envelope in the other, Jessica went to the family room and sat by the window in her favourite chair. Gingerly, she lifted the wax seal and carefully pulled out and unfolded a delicate letter.

FFebruary 1819

Dear Jessica,

You do not know me, so please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ben Williams. I know of you because when your friend Charlotte left you, she came to live with us, and she told us about her dearest and oldest friend. This letter will surely seem strange, but please read on and I will do my best to explain.

Charlotte came to us last March, a stranger to our town and our time. She left you without telling you where she was going or why, for fear that you would think her “crazy.” We will try to help you understand the where, the why, and the result.

There was a side to Charlotte that she shared with no one, not even you. She told us that one of her courses in school was called The History of Witchcraft. Her curiosity led her to delve deeper into the subject and she found herself interested in Wicca. Her interest led her to practice certain rituals and celebrate certain days of the year, as she found her own beliefs to be very much represented in Wicca.

During this time, she learned of a woman she thought might be an ancestor. Her name was Elizabeth Gray Bruce. She was charged with murder by witchcraft and hunted as she tried to escape the country, eventually being found in our town in February of 1819. She was hanged one month later. Our Charlotte, thinking this woman an ancestor and obviously not guilty, decided to use her knowledge and belief in Wicca and try to come to our town, to our time, with the hope of saving Elizabeth.

Feeling a chill run down her spine, Jessica set the letter on the table beside her and stood, hand to forehead. Charlotte, is all this true? She paced once around the room, stopping to look out the front window and watch the rain fall as her mind tried to understand this information. With a deep breath, she returned to the chair, picking up the letter once again.

Your best friend, Charlotte Gray Harper, left you in March 2012 and came to us on the same date at Owasco Lake, New York, in March 1818. When you receive this letter, Charlotte will have been gone from here a matter of weeks; but at the time that this note is written, we will have known her for just over ten months. I understand that this will come as a shock to you; it did to us as well.

Jessica sat for a few moments before realizing she’d zoned out. What the hell? She went back in time? Back in time?! What the hell made her think that would even be possible?

I say “us” and “we” because, though this letter is written in my hand, four friends are helping me compose these words, friends who have grown to love Charlotte. It is our hope that by telling you what happened here, you can try to help us from there. Again, I know that this will sound odd, but please bear with me and I will do my best to explain.

A Shadow in Time

Sky Watcher Series Book 1

Charlotte Harper’s life isn’t going as she expected. She had to change her course of studies, her ex-boyfriend has hooked up with her best friend, and she misses her mother desperately since her passing.

Searching for meaning and direction, she pours herself into her family history, researching her roots. When she learns of a possible ancestor named Elizabeth from the early nineteenth century, who was hung for the crime of witchcraft, she is determined to try to save her fate. Charlotte explores the strength of her Wiccan beliefs and the powers within her stones, preparing a spell to transport herself back in time nearly two centuries.

She arrives at a small, sleepy town on the shore of Owasco Lake, New York. Intending to stay just long enough to save her ancestor, she creates a cover story and attempts to fit in, but after waiting for weeks with no word of Elizabeth, she immerses herself in the community. She works in the General Store to earn her keep and uses her knowledge of herbs and medicine to help those in need. She soon forms strong bonds with those around her, finding herself drawn into the simple and fulfilling life of a bygone era, and even falls in love—more deeply than she ever thought possible.

As the deadline of the execution nears, visions of the future begin to plague her and those around her. Can she truly save Elizabeth and undo what happened almost two centuries ago? With two lives on the line, she knows she must face the consequences of meddling with time, even if it costs her everything.

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Prologue

Time is always. It is now, it is then;

it cannot be stopped, and it waits for no one.

I asked myself once again: Charlotte, have you lost your mind? Have you gone completely off the deep end? My saner inner voice was becoming repetitive. In fact, it was getting on my nerves! Not for the first time, I tried to reassure myself that, yes, while even thinking about doing something like this would be considered crazy, attempting it was absurd—yet, here I was. I was on my way to Owasco Lake, New York, on what could prove to be the greatest, and quite possibly last, adventure of my life.

As the bus travelled East on the thruway, my mind was racing. My thoughts turned unexpectedly to the conversation I’d had with Jessica yesterday morning. She’d called about dropping some boxes off at the house. Given that I had some running around to do, I told her I’d leave the side door unlocked for her or Michael. She reminded me of a letter that had come for me, which she’d left on the table by the phone. As I told her I’d be in touch tomorrow, I scanned the table and the floor at its base, but saw nothing.

After speaking to Jessica, I’d gone to see my lawyer to review the handling of my affairs if I hadn’t come back within two years. Chances were, if I hadn’t come back by then, I wasn’t coming back. That’s assuming, of course, that I made it there at all.

I expected to be gone for a year or so, and had suggested that Jessica and Michael live in my house during that time. It was a win-win situation—my house would be lived in and looked after, and they would have somewhere to stay together while they saved for a house of their own.

Upon returning home, I was struck by how empty the house felt. The butterflies in my stomach started fluttering. This is not an ending, I reminded myself. It’s the beginning of the adventure of a lifetime! I went upstairs and released the staircase from the attic, climbing up with the last of my boxes. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around the large open space. This attic wasn’t a gloomy, confined room; it was properly floored and insulated, with two high, half-circle windows letting in the sunlight. Though it had a low ceiling, I could walk through the middle without having to duck my head. When I was little, it had been my playroom. We’d painted a wall pink, hung a large blackboard, and taken up a little table, chairs, and tea set. I still remembered sitting at the table with my biggest teddy, Super Fluffy, and my bunny, Alice, sharing tea and cookies. When I was a little bigger, I’d come up here with Jessica and we’d shared our secrets. Now the floor space was occupied by a rolling rack hung with off-season clothing, boxes of Christmas decorations, books, and keepsakes. I put the last boxes onto the floor and, after one last look around, closed up the attic. It was now midafternoon and all that remained for me to do was write my letter to Jess.

The weather this March had been remarkably warm, and I was hot! First things first: let’s get out of these sweaty clothes and freshen up. I dropped my clothes to the floor, reached in behind the glass shower door, and turned on the water. I took down my ponytail and brushed out my hair and when the temperature was just right, stepped in. Mm-mm, this, I will miss! Questions rushed through my mind. Would I succeed in making this journey? Could it even be done? I had seen Elizabeth’s name on that list on my computer and made up my mind to try to save her, but would I even be able to find her? Is it possible to change things that have already happened? Would there be consequences? Completely engrossed in my thoughts as I was, it came as a shock when Michael’s face came into view in the open shower door. As I looked at him, confused, he smiled and stepped in, pulling the door closed behind him. “Michael, what the—” He cut me off.

“Charlie, when I realized you were in here, I had to come. I just want to be with you one last time, to say goodbye.” His hand ran up my arm, before his fingers lifted my chin, his touch was familiar.

I put up a valiant fight, I did, but he knew me too well.

When he left some time later, I felt only emptiness. I sat on the edge of the bed, turning to avoid my reflection in the mirror. That door had closed some time ago. I thought back to the evening we’d called it quits. We had both known that breaking up was the right thing to do, that it just wasn’t to be. I’d come up to bed after he’d left and cried until I had no tears left. A soft, unfamiliar voice whispered to me in my dreams that night: “Every ending is a new beginning, Charlotte.” These wise words had stayed with me.

It was about a year later when he and Jess got together, and they were perfect for each other. I hoped that they would have a good life together, I truly did. I felt no jealousy, no hard feelings, though now I did feel a small amount of guilt. I suppose that my fear and uncertainty about what lay ahead of me had caused me to grab hold of the feeling of love and protection he’d offered, fleeting as it was. Without question, it would be easier to move forward when I was no longer in the here and now. Tomorrow would change everything.

Heather Lynn, born in Toronto, Ontario, lives with her family just north of the city. Her education in biology and health sciences has supported an ongoing interest in physiology and the potential of herbal healing. In addition, she has been intrigued by the possibility and impossibility of time travel since childhood. When she's not writing, Heather enjoys family time, working in her garden, and learning more about the 'power' of stones.

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Over Their Heads Series: The Deep End #2 Alex Winters Release Blitz! @changelingpress

Title: Over Their Heads

Series: The Deep End #2

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: March 1, 2024

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 103 pages

Genre: Romance, New Adult, Contemporary Women's Fiction, Multicultural & Interracial

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Nash Archer may be a virgin, but as a college freshman, away from home and unsupervised for the first time, he doesn’t plan to be for long. Maybe that’s why he falls for the handsome, cocky stranger cruising him in the campus library and follows him back to the academic dorms for his first boy-on-boy action! But when he discovers that he’s just another notch on a very big belt for his sexy new lover Ridge, Nash huffs off before they can exchange numbers. He figures he’s blown his first chance at a relationship with a real live guy.

Ridge Madison feels bad about dismissing the cute freshman from the campus library, but what’s Nash to expect? That’s what cruising is, after all -- fast, hot, and no strings attached. So when Nash storms off, why does Ridge move heaven and earth to find Nash to make up for things? And what will he do when he finds out Nash has already met someone else? Someone who Ridge also wants?

Tanner Sinclair can’t believe it when she finds herself stuck in the middle of the two hottest guys on campus. Ridge is her algebra tutor, a sexy stud who knows it. When he rudely dismisses his latest conquest as she arrives for her tutoring, Tanner leaves abruptly and tracks Nash down in the campus cafeteria. The two hit it off and wind up sharing a night of passion the likes of which neither of them has ever experienced before.

As three very different lives collide, passions ignite while the lovers give the term “college experience” new meaning. Will they find themselves in over their heads?

Over Their Heads (The Deep End 2)
Alex Winters
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Alex Winters

Nash

“Nice, uh… place?”

Nash Archer heard his own voice, sounding rich and thick and very, very far away. It was as strange as everything else about the curious predicament he’d suddenly found himself in. The sexy stranger in the clingy Lost Lake University T-shirt rolled his soft hazel eyes. “Is that all you have to say?”

Nash arched an eyebrow, desperately struggling to appear cool, calm and collected when, after all, his heart was racing a million miles per minute. “No,” he replied, still in that far away voice. “I’m sure I’ll have more later but… for now? I’ve never been in the Academic Dorm before.”

“Me either, until I moved in.” The stranger agreed, wriggling atop the narrow ledge against the big picture window overlooking the campus ten stories below, not to mention the glistening shimmer off Lost Lake. “We’re both freshmen, remember?”

Nash stood cautiously, his hand still resting on the small countertop just inside the tidy dorm room. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Why don’t you come a little closer?” Smart Guy asked, cool and confident-like, nodding at where Nash clung to the counter as if to a life raft. It sounded less like a come on and more like something he’d said to every visitor he’d invited in. A cheesy line. Nash didn’t like that. He wanted to feel special.

Unique. This might have been old hat for his sexy host, but it was all new to Nash and he supposed he was still hoping for a little pomp and circumstance.

“I will,” Nash promised, heart still thudding and palms still clammy, just like they’d been the whole walk across campus. “I’m trying to take this slow, though, you know?”

Smart Guy -- they hadn’t exchanged names back in the campus library, just furtive glances and soft, lingering smiles among the towering stacks that hid them from prying eyes -- gave a playful snort.

“Virgin, huh?”

“How’d you guess?”

Nash wasn’t shy about it. Not exactly. He was here, after all, in this sexy stranger’s dorm room in the middle of the day, staring at his hard body outlined in the flattering sunlight streaming in through the window at his back. He wouldn’t be able to hide his boy-on-boy virginity for much longer anyway.

Smart Guy shrugged, the slight movement sending a glint off his thick glasses, so at odds with his firm, buff body. “Virgins always want to take their time.”

Archer finally chuckled, an angsty combo of genuine humor and pent-up nerves. “Oh, you’re an expert on such matters, huh?”

Smart Guy smiled. Thick lips. Plucky little nose holding his glasses up beneath a spray of soft blond curls that looked like fresh hay in the afternoon sun streaming in behind him. “Not an expert, no, but… enough to know you’re going to stay a virgin if you don’t come any closer eventually.”

Nash glanced at the glaringly obvious hard-on beneath the hem of Smart Guy’s faded maroon T-shirt, so stiff and erect it was teasing the waistband of his shorts away from an impossibly flat belly. “Not until you put that thing away,” he teased, even as Nash inched gently closer across the vinyl flooring beneath his feet.

Smart Guy glanced down as if not having noticed the sudden draft on the front of his shorts. He glanced back up, fixing Nash with a penetrating gaze, the same one that had so enraptured him back in the library. “Why would I do that?” he challenged in a voice that was as confident as Nash’s was timid. “I mean, isn’t that what you came here for?”

Nash couldn’t argue with that logic. He had come here for that very thing. Had come to college, in fact, for that very thing. Dick. The one thing that had eluded him back in high school. The one thing he’d craved for as long as he could remember. He nodded, unafraid now that the door had been shut behind him. After all, he’d come here for someone like Smart Guy, who was so lean and buff, beckoning Nash with the outline of his hard, stiff dick as he lounged atop the window ledge like some sweet confection, just out of reach.

Nash nodded, but stopped just shy of contact. “It is pretty, your dick.” The words shocked him, even as they thrilled him. He’d never spoken like this before. Never done anything like this before. Met some random hot guy in the library? Followed him home to his dorm? Praised another guy’s cock without glancing around the room for stray witnesses?

Nash was unmoored, floating through unfamiliar territory, feeling things out as he went along. It was as frightening as it was thrilling, and he never wanted it to end.

Smart Guy’s eyes widened, and not ironically. He seemed genuinely surprised. “How do you know? You won’t even look at it.”

Nash shrugged almost casually, as if perhaps they were studying a movie poster in front of the local theater and not, in fact, some random guy’s cock. “I can just tell. It’ll be just like the rest of you. Hard. Smooth. Pretty.”

Smart Guy was blushing. A first. Nash smiled, to have made another boy blush. Was that a first, too? he wondered, reaching out a trembling hand to slide a lock of feathery blond hair behind Smart Guy’s blushing ear.

Smart Guy sat perfectly still, letting out a soft, almost helpless sigh. It sounded so alluring, so deep and guttural and desperate, Nash wanted to actually feel it. He leaned in for a kiss, surprising Smart Guy yet again. He felt the flinch, the stiffening and then, suddenly, the softening as his sexy host warmed to their lips’ tender embrace.

Nash leaned back before things could get too heavy, watching as Smart Guy smiled, licking his lips as if to prove to himself -- to both of them -- that it had just happened. The kiss. Their first. His, certainly. His first ever.

“Nice,” Smart Guy marveled, less full of shit than he’d been all afternoon. He sounded genuinely surprised. So surprised he had to go and repeat himself, as if to make sure. “That was really… nice.”

“Right?” Nash murmured, swallowing hard and nodding at the same time. “Nice,” he breathed, leaning in for another kiss and closing the distance between them at the same time. He leaned gently back once more, smiling with full, wet lips. “And slow.”

“Okay, okay.” Smart Guy nodded, hands still gripping the window ledge at his side. “I can see the upside of this.”

Nash struggled to control his heart rate, smiling. “Funny, all I see is upside.”

Smart Guy glanced gently sideways, peering out the window behind him at the small but tidy campus below. “Want me to close these, or…” His casual tone made it clear the question was purely rhetorical. Nash played along anyway, enjoying the verbal foreplay as he kept his cocky lover-to-be on his no doubt sexy toes.

“That depends,” Nash sighed, tugging playfully at the hem of his lover’s T-shirt. “Can anyone see us?”

“I mean, we’re ten floors up. Nothing around but mountains and trees and this pretty boy undressing me with his big, brown eyes.”

Nash paused, the fabric halfway up Smart Guy’s smooth, toned abs. He’d been called a lot of things back home -- nerd, dweeb, spazz and much, much worse -- but never… pretty. Never, in a million years, pretty. “I’m here, you don’t… don’t have to butter me up anymore.” Try as he might to hide it, Nash’s tremulous voice reflected the years of rejection, insecurity, and unrequited attraction he’d never dared give voice to before.

Let alone act upon

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Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him online to see what stories are brewing up next!