Cover Reveal: What About Now by Grace R. Duncan!

I’m thrilled to help Grace R. Duncan show off her new cover. I lovelovelove cover reveals so before i share her lovely long excerpt, here it is, the cover!

What About Now

Preorder:
Ebook: http://bit.ly/1q9U75b
Paperback: http://bit.ly/1SsdMDx

Blurb:

Five years ago, everything went wrong.

Braden Kirk and Rafe Jessen’s long-term relationship started unraveling. They stopped talking, fears mounted, then Braden walked in on Rafe and another man, completely misreading the situation. Without giving Rafe a chance to explain, Braden walks out. Out of their home, their relationship, and the game development company they started together in college.

After months of therapy to deal with the attempted rape Braden walked in on, Rafe begins to understand that his dominant tendencies in the bedroom aren’t a bad thing and that Braden’s submission is likely what scared his partner into silence. But Rafe isn’t ready to let go of the man he loves more than life itself. He arranges for himself and Braden to end up on the same charity cruise, knowing Braden won’t let his phobia—terror of vast, deep waters—rule him.

With a plan and twenty-eight days, Rafe is determined to get Braden back, make him see there’s nothing wrong with being submissive, and find a way to get Braden to stay with him when they get home to LA.

Excerpt:

Braden stared at the monstrosity that was to be his home for the next four weeks. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he tried to remind himself this was a good idea. He was helping a charity he felt strongly about. He really did need a vacation.

He kept telling himself that as he moved forward with the rest of the passengers along the ramp to the gangway. He’d heeded his cruise-veteran mother’s advice and arrived after two so he could go straight to his room. She’d mentioned if he went earlier, he could eat while on the ship, but Braden was delaying boarding as long as possible. Since they were set to depart at four and it appeared most of the passengers had already boarded, Braden had gone from curb to gangway in what he felt was much too little time.

He didn’t know if he was ready to step on that ship.

Braden shook his head at himself, went through the open doorway, smiled at the uniformed lady on the other side, and nodded at something she said. He had no idea what it was, possibly directions to somewhere. He was a bit too overwhelmed at the moment to worry about it. He figured there’d be maps. He could handle that.

He didn’t know if he could handle being trapped in a ship, even one as huge as this one. In the middle of the ocean. For four weeks.

He was committed now. Braden blinked when he was offered what looked like a glass of champagne. Deciding alcohol could only help, he took the offered drink. He half expected to hand over his card—his mother told him they sometimes charged for drinks—but the lady simply smiled. He managed to say “thank you” and moved farther down the hallway, hoisting his backpack, the only carry-on he’d bothered with, a little higher on his shoulder.

But before he got too far, he stopped dead again. He knew he probably looked a bit like a fish, his mouth gaping, but he couldn’t help it. He looked up, then up, and farther up still as he took in the huge atrium.

Plants, marble, wood, glass, and gold seemed to be everywhere. Glass-backed elevators rose to his right, with a white grand piano nestled between them. Groupings of chairs set around glass tables created cozy chatting areas, scattered around the space. Across from him, he could just see the front of a shop, and off to the other side, what looked to be a florist. A three-story fountain poured along still more marble off to his left. And a pair of glass-and-gold curved staircases led to the second and third floors.

Someone bumped into Braden and he shook his head again, cheeks reddening. “Sorry,” he mumbled, moving out of the way. He remembered the glass in his hand and downed the fizzy drink in one long gulp.

He needed to get out of public for a few moments and collect himself. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. With another head shake, he looked down at the paper he’d been handed when he checked in and saw a map—or more like a series of maps of each of the decks. In the upper right, he found the ship name and a list of abbreviations below it that made no sense to him. He ignored those and looked at the tiny maps. A big red arrow pointed to the center of the right-most map. Braden guessed that was this atrium.

He scowled at his boarding pass, then at the map, and squinted at the ridiculously tiny numbers. He had good eyesight but could barely make them out. Where the hell was he supposed to go?

He went back to his boarding pass and found his room listing. Emerald Deck, stateroom E519. Well, he could find the deck, then worry about his room. According to the map, he had three flights up to go, so he headed for the curved stairs in the middle of the room. He paused long enough to leave the glass on a table, then started up the closest set of steps.

It didn’t take him long to find the right deck. They were, at least, clearly marked by big brass plaques between the elevators on each floor. So, a moment later, he was walking along the hallway toward midship on the correct deck and was counting down numbers. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally stood in front of the correct door.

Braden’s first impression was that his parents had spent an absurd amount of money for him to live in a closet for a month. It seemed impossibly small, despite the queen-sized bed—or perhaps because of it. Braden didn’t know, but there was barely enough space to move around the bed. The tiny desk didn’t look deep enough to hold his laptop, and the LCD television mounted to the wall was even smaller than the pictures made it look.

His luggage wasn’t there yet, but he’d been expecting that. His mother had told him it wouldn’t show up until a few hours, at least, after he got there. He set his backpack on his bed and slipped around it to peer out the window.

He’d agonized over that decision for what felt like forever. He had no wish to look at the vast deep waters, but he wasn’t much fonder of being closed in. Then he’d discovered the obstructed-view rooms and was relieved to find he could have light without having to look at the water.

When he pulled the curtain aside, he was happy to see lots of blue sky… and a huge red lifeboat. If he stood on tiptoes, he could just glimpse the water, but that was fine with him.

Braden let the curtain go, and turned back to his room, dropping onto the side of the bed. He rested his face in his hands and forced himself to breathe deeply. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. He hated big bodies of water. Well, hated seemed… mild. He was, in a word, terrified.

But he’d agreed to go. He’d accepted the ticket his parents wanted to buy him, especially when they’d explained it was to benefit the house he’d been helping raise money for, to provide shelter for homeless LGBT youth. He’d seriously considered buying the ticket himself and just not going on the cruise, but his mother convinced him he was letting fear rule him and the vacation was more than needed.

She was right about that. Braden had spent more of the last nine months quite literally at his office than in his apartment. As the lead developer on a new game his company was finalizing, he’d put in upward of eighteen hours almost every day. Once the game went live and their first update completed and released, he had no more excuses. He’d earned plenty of money, which he hadn’t spent while practically living at work. His boss had pretty much ordered him to take a month off. When the cruise came up, he knew there was no reasonable reason for him to not accept.

Braden didn’t like the idea of letting his fears rule him. His terror of deep waters had bothered him for years, but he’d managed to avoid the ocean for the most part, despite living in Los Angeles. He’d once had help with that, but that help was gone and it was up to him to face his fear, now, alone.

His mother had pointed out that he didn’t need to spend a lot of time at the railings. He could stay in the lounges, read his Kindle at the pool—which didn’t scare him—or in any of a dozen inside places, work out in the gym, or watch shows in the inside theater. He didn’t need to expose himself unnecessarily.

What he hadn’t told his mother was there was another reason he didn’t necessarily want to go. Exactly the same one, he was sure, she had for pushing him so hard to go on this cruise in the first place. The charity group functions on the ship focused on gathering LGBT singles. And while Braden knew there were more than a few lesbians on the ship, the coordinator had told him the larger portion of their group of more than three hundred was made up of gay or bisexual men. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce his mother wanted him to find someone.

Braden loved his mother and would do almost anything for her, but he had no interest in that whatsoever. He’d avoided relationships for the last five years and had no intention of breaking that record. When he’d walked out of the last one, he promised himself he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. He refused to admit his insistence on not dating had as much to do with the fact that he still loved the man.

He rubbed his face hard and took a deep breath, then sat up. For good or ill, he was on the ship and staying. He’d be damned if he let his fears dictate his actions—whether that was his fear of the ocean or of getting hurt, it didn’t matter. They would not rule him, neither of them.

He stood up and snatched up his bag, opened it, and pulled out the information sheet from the group coordinator. He found the location for the group welcome reception, consulted the map, then stuffed it in his pocket. After stowing his wallet and money in the safe, he snatched up the card that served as identification, payment, and key while on board and headed out.

With any luck there’d be an open bar. The champagne in the atrium hadn’t been nearly enough.

 

 

Rafe Jessen stepped quickly into an alcove and waited for the man to pass. He hoped he wouldn’t be seen or at least recognized. After all, the man had no idea he was even on the ship and thus wouldn’t be expecting to see him. Which was exactly what Rafe wanted. For now, anyway.

When he was sure it was clear, he stepped out and walked along the same hallway. A couple flights of stairs and a few turns later, he found a quiet corner of the Explorer’s Lounge where they were holding the welcome reception. He held a slightly weaker rum and Coke than he usually liked—but didn’t much mind, since it was free—and settled in to watch the man he’d been waiting to see again for what felt like forever.

He didn’t look happy. That was the first thing Rafe noticed. The brown hair was a bit longer than he remembered and currently disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it a lot. Rafe smiled. Braden had been guilty of doing that quite a bit when something didn’t work in the game he was developing.

The blue eyes looked a bit sadder. Well, maybe not than the last time Rafe saw them. The last time he’d seen them, they’d been spitting the blue fire of Braden’s rage. Now, they were sad. But Rafe remembered when those eyes crinkled at the corners with humor. He remembered heat and want. He remembered love. All for him.

Rafe hated that he was the one to put that sadness there. And as it had for five long years, that knowledge still pierced him. He finished the rum and Coke and waved at the bartender for another, never taking eyes off the man he’d never stopped loving. Braden stood barely thirty feet away and didn’t know he was there. Rafe’s heart thudded, his throat closed, and he reminded himself to breathe. Take air in. Let it go.

As he started in on his second rum and Coke, he drank in the lean frame he knew hid muscles and strength—both mental and physical. He ate up the quick smile Braden flashed at their charity coordinator, Janie, who’d made a joke. And he reminded himself he was on that ship for a reason, and with any luck, the plan he had would work.

It had to. He’d been without Braden for far too long.

Five years. Five years that felt like an eternity.

Dreamspinner Press
Cover by Reese Dante
Release date: 5/9/2016
100k words

Preorder What About Now:
Ebook: http://bit.ly/1q9U75b
Paperback: http://bit.ly/1SsdMDx

noh8Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination.  She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble.  Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States.  She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics.  She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Find Grace here:

Website  ◊ FacebookTwitterYoutubeGoodreads

 

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Guest Author: Grace R. Duncan!

I’m thrilled to welcome Grace R. Duncan back to my little corner of the net today! She’s on tour for her new release, Turning His Life Around, and has brought a special treat or two so i’ll just get out of the way and let you enjoy…

Thanks for visiting Grace!

 

Hello and welcome to the Turning His Life Around blog tour! I wanted to do something a little different this time around and so starting today and for the next eight days, I’ve put together a running short story. This story happens a couple of years before Turning takes place, when Ian is learning he’s in love with Kane but hasn’t quite accepted what all that means for him yet, since Kane doesn’t return that love.

The story will continue for all nine tour stops! Be sure to catch each one because everyone who reads all nine and can answer a scavenger hunt questionnaire based on the story will be entered to win $25 a Dreamspinner Press! Check the end of this post for a link to the tour page.

TurningHisLifeAround_headerbanner“Come on, let me take this off,” Kane grumbled again and reached up to pull at his blindfold.

Ian laughed and swatted his hand away. “No. You couldn’t decide where to go to celebrate the new job, so I get to surprise you. And if I’m going to surprise you, I’m going to go all the way with it. So, you’re just going to have to deal.”

“Ian…” Kane whined.

Reaching over from the driver’s seat, Ian gave Kane a light pinch to his leg. “Stop. We’ll be there soon.”

Kane sighed and mumbled something Ian didn’t catch, but he stopped complaining. Ian turned his attention to driving and was grateful when, a few turns later, he pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Okay, stay put. I’ll be around to get you.”

“Okay,” Kane said, gripping the side of the seat, obviously working to keep from moving the blindfold.

He hurried around the car and opened Kane’s door then guided his friend out. “Okay, ready?”

Kane bit his lip, undoubtedly holding back a retort that would piss Ian off, then said, “Yes. Please.”

Ian grinned and pulled his mom’s silk scarf from around Kane’s eyes. “HOLY SHIT!” Kane nearly shouted then spun around, huge grin on his face. “Really?”

Smile spreading even wider, Ian nodded. “Yeah, really. I take it you’re okay with it?”

“Oh hell yeah! I’ve been wanting to go here forever. Holy shit, thank you,” Kane said and grabbed Ian in a hug, followed immediately by a hard kiss that briefly left Ian stunned.

When Kane turned back around, Ian had to shake his head hard to get his sanity back. He tossed the scarf into his car and shut the door. “Well, then, shall we?” Ian asked and they started around the building.

Kaishoku was one of the few truly authentic Japanese restaurants in the city. One of the Japanese gentlemen Ian worked with had recommended it some time ago. He’d said the food was very much like he’d had at home even if some of the sushi choices were still western. But the rest of it reminded him of home and that had been good enough for Ian.

The understated building certainly looked like a transplant from Tokyo, or, at least, from suburban Japan. One long, wide level rose up from the ground slightly with a long porch stretched across the front of the painted white exterior. Cherry wood trim ran around the windows and doors and along the bottom of the black, pointed roof. The doors were also done in a cherry wood with slatted windows inset and they slid open like traditional shoji doors.

When they stepped into the interior, Ian’s breath caught. It was gorgeous. A small stream ran behind the hostess station with a variety of koi swimming in the water, all of them almost as large as Ian’s forearm, some in bright red, a few with orange spots and some black and white. One looked almost translucent. Ian had to fight the urge to kneel down next to the stream to look closer.

Instead, he took in the rest of the relatively small room. The stream ran under walls on either side of the entry way, disappearing into the rest of the building. A lighter wood here in the interior, made up most of the walls and floor. The rest of the walls were white and looked like traditional rice paper, as were the shoji doors leading off to the left and right. Across from them and over a tiny footbridge, an archway led to a hallway filled with more shoji doors.

Soft music that sounded like it was some sort of lute and flute combination floated from invisible speakers to accompany the burble of the stream. The hostess’s voice added to the sound as she talked to someone on a cordless phone. Ian couldn’t tell if she was speaking English, Japanese, or some other language because she was talking too fast for him to make it out.

As they approached the stand, she looked up and smiled at them. “Yes, thank you. We will see you then,” she finished in a heavy Asian accent. “Very good. Good bye!” She pushed the button on the phone and set it down, looking up at them. “Good evening!” she greeted them, bowing slightly. “Welcome to Kaishoku! How may I help you?”

“Hello,” Ian said, returning her smile and putting his hand on Kane’s back. “Reservations for Kelly.”

“Oh yes! Very good. Very good,” she said, pulling out menus. She consulted a map of the restaurant as she pulled out a long piece of paper, then glanced up at them again. Her eyes widened a little when she spotted Ian’s hand on Kane’s back and Ian tensed, not sure what to expect for a reaction.

 

* * *

Remember, be sure to follow the whole tour to get the full story and a chance to win a $25 gift certificate at Dreamspinner Press. One person who comments here by telling me your favorite type of restaurant will win an ebook of any of my backlist titles (any published prior to Turning).

turning blog tour SmFollow the tour here: http://www.grace-duncan.com/turning-his-life-around-blog-tour-2

* * *

TurningHisLifeAroundFSCan Kane recognize what’s right in front of him before he loses everything?

 

When Kane Harris’s world turns upside down, his lifelong best friend is the only one to catch him.

Years ago, Ian Kelly accepted Kane would never return his love, since he knows Kane believes he’s incapable of it. Ian is willing to settle for what he can get—a best friend, sometimes casual lover, and occasional submissive. He’s learned he can’t live without Kane, but he can’t let Kane know. Because when, not if, Kane confirms that Ian’s love will never be returned, Ian won’t be able to take it. But when Kane loses his job and asks Ian to step up their play to help him deal, Ian’s ability to hide his feelings falters. Then Kane starts his own computer security firm and asks Ian to join him, and Ian struggles further.

It’s not until they visit the exclusive BDSM club the Iron Door that things come to a head. Kane screws up big time, and he’s afraid he can’t fix it. He’s sure he’ll lose his best friend, his Dom, his everything… forever.

* * *

noh8About Grace:

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination.  She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble.  Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States.  She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics.  She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Find Grace here:

Website  ◊ FacebookTwitterYoutubeGoodreads

 

Guest Author: Grace R. Duncan!

I’m so excited to announce my new novel Turning His LIfe Around is up for pre-order with an amazing cover from Paul Richmond!

TurningHisLifeAroundFS

Title: Turning His Life Around
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release date: July 6, 2015
240 pages, 87k words
Cover Art: Paul Richmond

Can Kane recognize what’s right in front of him before he loses everything?

When Kane Harris’s world turns upside down, his lifelong best friend is the only one to catch him.

Years ago, Ian Kelly accepted Kane would never return his love, since he knows Kane believes he’s incapable of it. Ian is willing to settle for what he can get—a best friend, sometimes casual lover, and occasional submissive. He’s learned he can’t live without Kane, but he can’t let Kane know. Because when, not if, Kane confirms that Ian’s love will never be returned, Ian won’t be able to take it. But when Kane loses his job and asks Ian to step up their play to help him deal, Ian’s ability to hide his feelings falters. Then Kane starts his own computer security firm and asks Ian to join him, and Ian struggles further.

It’s not until they visit the exclusive BDSM club the Iron Door that things come to a head. Kane screws up big time, and he’s afraid he can’t fix it. He’s sure he’ll lose his best friend, his Dom, his everything… forever.

Pre-0rder it now from Dreamspinner Press!

 

Excerpt:

IAN COAXED his ancient Toyota into the parking spot next to Kane’s Accord and shut off the engine. He was exhausted. He’d gotten into a fight with the IT director again, was given another project to work on with the database developer whom he hated with a passion, and had been forced to sit through no less than three completely useless meetings in the afternoon. All he wanted to do was eat something and go kill something. Not necessarily in that order.

He dragged himself out of the car and locked it, tossing his bag over his shoulder. He trudged up the steps, giving a halfhearted wave at their elderly neighbor, a sweet old lady not entirely with it anymore. She was out on her balcony in little more than a nightgown, watering nearly dead plants. She smiled a wide, toothless smile and he gave a weak smile back.

He finally made it to the apartment door on the third floor. He slammed the door deliberately so Kane would know he was home, then kicked off his shoes, hung his keys up, and shed his jacket. He put it in the closet before heading down the hall.

Their living room wasn’t all that big, but they didn’t care. Half of it was taken up with their computer desks, stuffed next to each other and covering one entire wall. Opposite them was the large flat screen TV and entertainment center, complete with all three major gaming consoles, a home theater system, and large collection of movies and games. In front of the TV, between it and their desks, was the one piece of furniture they’d spent any real money on: their couch. They’d had more than a few friends crash with them, and they’d finally broken down and bought a decent one for them to sleep on. It had certainly come in handy a few times when they’d decided to fuck there in the living room too.

Ian shook his head at the thought and turned his attention to Kane. He had his headphones on and there was a battle going on the screen, one hand was on the keyboard, and the other was on the mouse.

“No, goddammit! He was… fuck. What do you mean you’re out of power? That’s not what I see! Just… send in the pet. Fine. Look, we’re in the bottom of fucking Moria. You can’t fuck around like that!”

Ian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, and watched the battle. There were way too many enemies for Kane’s group—he could see that from there.

Goddammit!” Kane shouted, ripping his headphones off and throwing them onto the desk.

“Pick-up group?” Ian asked.

Kane spun around, and Ian glanced over Kane’s shoulder to see his character’s corpse lying on the ground. “Yeah. Why do I get into them again?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re not usually that bad in Middle-earth, though, are they?”

“No, which is why I’m so pissed.” He sighed. “Must be the daytime players.”

“Want to order in tonight?” Ian asked, crossing the room to stand next to his friend.

“Chinese?” Kane looked up hopefully, and Ian laughed.

“Sure. If we can order from the place that does the sushi too.”

“Done!” Kane grinned and snatched at the menu he kept pinned to the small bulletin board over his desk. “How was your day?” he asked as he looked over the menu.

Ian sighed. “Long. Meetings all damned afternoon. I hate meetings. I hate people. And, um, don’t you have to deal with your group?” He pointed at the screen.

Kane shook his head. “No, I dropped it. I should port back, though.” He turned back to the computer and clicked a few things. His corpse revived, the pretty green swirls surrounded him, and the loading screen came up, complete with a twenty-four-inch version of a spider.

Ian shuddered and looked away. Instead, he turned to inspect his friend. He could tell something was bubbling under the olive skin and nearly black eyes. He knew it was very likely the old job, the new job hunt, and the frustration Kane was likely feeling over it. Kane always thought too much, spent way too much mental energy worrying about things.

“Did you work out today?” he asked, giving in and playing with a bit of Kane’s shaggy ebony hair.

“Yeah,” Kane said, and that one syllable told Ian enough: that while the workout might have done some, it most certainly wasn’t enough. He knew Kane would have gotten started on what he had to do, would have done what he felt he needed to, and hated every second of it. He was likely worried about money and not looking forward to working for another bullshit company with bullshit politics and bullshit people.

He knew his friend well.

They’d been friends since they were six. He’d met Kane one hot summer day behind his house, and from that point on, Kane had just always been there.

Kane spun back around in his chair and surprised Ian. He wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist and pulled until they were tight against each other, burying his face in Ian’s stomach.

“Kane?”

It’s not that they never hugged or touched. They did—quite often, in fact, for two people who weren’t committed lovers, but this was… different.

“Sorry. Just….” He didn’t continue, instead shook his head a little.

At a loss for what to do, Ian wrapped his arms around Kane’s shoulders.

They stayed that way for a few moments, and then Kane pulled back. “I’m sorry. Just overthinking things today.” He peered up at Ian. “And you’re tired. Let’s get dinner ordered. Want to play for a while?”

Ian considered him for a moment. As much as he wanted to log in and play too, he knew Kane’s current state of mind was not conducive to making any kind of progress. They’d end up dying more than once; then they’d get frustrated over it. Death in the game was relatively painless, but it was still annoying and inconvenient. Which would only serve to make things worse.

Maybe what he needed was another type altogether. “Maybe. Maybe what you need is a different kind of play tonight.” Ian watched Kane’s eyes. His pupils expanded just a bit and his breathing quickened. “Would you like that, pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” Kane’s voice was clear and deferent, his eyes dropping away.

Ian’s own breath quickened and he worked to get hold of himself. “Very well. Strip, get the cushion, and get on your knees. Wait here for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Kane answered, voice already rough with anticipation, and as Ian stepped away, he hurried to obey.

* * *

About Grace:

noh8

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

WebsiteFacebookTwitterGoodreadsEmailAmazon Author Page

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Book Blast and #Giveaway: Healing by Grace R. Duncan!

I tried to think of a catchy slogan for today, since it’s a two-fer, but didn’t get far. Lucky for you-all, I’m going to spare you the horrible ones I came up with and give you a second book blast!

Today, the very cool and talented Grace R. Duncan is celebrating the release of her book Healing. Check out an excerpt, and enter the Rafflecopter for at shot at a $25 Amazon gift card!

Happy Release Day, Grace!

Healing, by Grace R. Duncan

In a world that’s gone to hell, will you let old fears keep you from the chance at more than just survival?

When Duncan stumbles into a pharmacy in search of something to fix his broken leg, he’s surprised to find someone else there. Like the rest of the post-pandemic world, it appeared empty. Instead, he discovers Mark, a former nurse who walked away from his profession after losing too many patients to the virus. Despite swearing he’d never practice medicine again, Mark patches Duncan up over Duncan’s protests. He even finds an abandoned house in the tiny town, and they settle in until Duncan heals enough to look out for himself. Much to the chagrin of both, they find themselves caring for each other.

Duncan welcomes it, thrilled at finding someone he can trust. However, he’s well aware of the shadows in Mark’s eyes and understands Mark’s reticence as he learns the story. But as he’s starting to do things for himself again, Duncan realizes he doesn’t want Mark to leave. He’s not sure if can get Mark to let go of his fears so they can stay together and love. But Duncan’s damned sure going to try.

Buy Healing

Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5534
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Pandemus-Chronicles-Book-2-ebook/dp/B00OWKJS84/ref=la_B00BCMBWY8_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414433407&sr=1-6
AllRomance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-healing-1656462-145.html

Excerpt:

He should have known better. Under normal circumstances, it was a stupid move, but right here, right now, “stupid” didn’t begin to cover it.

Duncan glared at his leg for another moment, then leaned his head back against the wall. He needed to keep moving. It hurt like hell, but he had to keep going. It wasn’t going to get better on its own. The gash needed to be cleaned and bandaged, and even if the break wasn’t bad, it should at least be braced. And it wasn’t like he could call an ambulance. Or even go into an emergency room.

Well, he supposed he could go into an emergency room, if he was in the city. But like a lot of other people, he avoided the cities whenever possible. And when it wasn’t, he stayed as far on the edge as he could. But even there, it was a dangerous risk. As corrupt as the cities were now, the price of anything was higher than most could pay. He’d heard rumors that, in some of the worst cities, people simply got shot if they couldn’t pay what the thugs in power wanted. It was all rumor, but rumor he wasn’t about to ignore.

So he did his damnedest to stay away.

He’d been stupid to jump off the ledge. Even at only a couple of feet higher than he was tall, the risk hadn’t been worth it. He’d have thought, after nearly three years, he’d learned how to be more careful and not take those kinds of risks. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen and hurt himself—though, thankfully, the last one hadn’t involved a broken bone. Maybe it should have; he might have learned his lesson then.
“Really fucking stupid, Dun.”

Duncan steeled himself and pulled to his feet, grimacing when the sharp pain shot up his ankle and through his leg. “Fuck,” he muttered, breathing hard through his nose. When he finally focused past the pain, he looked up and noted the position of the sun, the only real indication he had for the time, and figured he had another good hour or two of light. If he was right about where he was, he wouldn’t need all of it. He tucked the stick he’d found under his arm, grimaced when it dug into the soft flesh, but then leaned on it and hobbled along again.

Grace’s Bio:

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Grace’s website: http://www.grace-duncan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2
Twitter: @GraceRDuncan

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Guest Author: Grace R. Duncan!

Today my guest is the lovely, talented, and insightful Grace R. Duncan. She’s talking about BDSM from her perspective as an active participant, and why the difference between Dominant and sadist, hurt and harm, is so important to understand.

She’s also brought an excerpt from Deception (Golden Collar 2), which is (of course) wonderful! So I won’t keep you from it any longer…

 

First off, thank you very much to Charley for hosting me again! I really appreciate the opportunity to cause havoc spend time here!

Deception_headerbanner

A long, long time ago in a galaxy not so far away, I approached my husband with the idea of getting into BDSM. I was… fascinated by the things I’d read and learned and wanted to try some of it out. In the course of all of my research, I’d discovered that I was submissive and what that all meant.

Well, hub was, understandably, a little hesitant, but willing to try. He’s always been cool like that. He found he could, once he’d done some reading of his own, get into the Dominant mindset and work with it.

It is a mindset that I simply cannot adopt. I can understand it for the purposes of writing it, but for myself? Nope, not at all. I just can’t do it. Luckily, my (now) Sir is very patient with my incessant questions and is happy to answer them.

We played with the Dom/sub dynamic for a while, but there was one more thing I wanted to try. I hemmed and hawed over whether to ask because I had a feeling I knew what he’d say, but I also knew that holding back would not do us—either our marriage or our D/s relationship—any good. As with any type of relationship, communication is key and maybe even more so within a D/s relationship.

So, I spit it out and asked. I wanted to know how I took pain for pleasure (which is, as I’m sure the readers of this post know, quite different from other types of pain). The thought just made me nuts in a good way and I couldn’t get the idea out of my head.

Sir reacted exactly as I thought he would. “You want me to hurt you? Have you lost your mind?”

I want to reiterate that he is a very open-minded person, Dom and husband. Because of that, he did what any sane, self-respecting Dom does and he researched. But still he hesitated, because he couldn’t quite get the difference between hurting me in the right way and harming me. And the thought of him getting off on it? Well, I might as well have suggested he take a walk to the moon. He was convinced he’d never do that.

He has since come to understand the difference between hurting me and harming me. And, having taken the flogger to my back on more than one occasion, he’s come to understand what he can get out of it, too. Which then helps me want it more and be better able to take it (if I know he enjoys giving pain, besides enjoying it myself, I feed the submissive in me by pleasing him).

Bathasar of my Golden Collar series struggles with this very issue. His exposure to someone giving pain has been very limited and, in fact, were no good examples at all. All he’d ever seen was everything not to do when it came to giving pain.

His father, Mukesh, was a sadist to the core. But he was also selfish and very uncaring about the person he was with. He was also mentally unhinged. However, Bathasar, with no real exposure to the right side of S&M, was worried that, should he get into it and like it, he’d end up like his father. Luckily for him, he had someone he could ask who understood pain much better than he did.

Bathasar appeared to consider it for a long time. “How do you know if you’re doing it right?”

Cyrus smiled. That was a question he could answer. “That part is easy, actually. If you’re doing it for them first and foremost, then you’re doing it right. There are still specific things to do, things to watch for, things to be careful of, but the why of it is the most important thing. The rest can be learned.”

Bathasar stared at him. “Have you done it?”

Cyrus nodded. “I have helped Salehi on many occasions, but… last year, when Jasim was gifted and it hit Nadir so hard…. Salehi gave us an evening alone. Because we didn’t have the luxury of grief, since we are slaves, he didn’t have the time to properly grieve losing Jasim. Remember, we thought we would never see him again, and in the weeks that Nadir and Jasim worked together—Nadir basically trained Jasim—well, they grew very close. They’d had sex very often and even been requested together a few times. So, it hit Nadir hard when Jasim was given away.” He took a deep breath, the memory of it still sharp, poking at old wounds. He’d let it go, accepted that Nadir had, for all intents and purposes, fallen in love with Jasim. It shouldn’t still hurt.

Shouldn’t and didn’t were two different things, and he knew it.

“Cyrus?” Bathasar asked, reaching out.

Cyrus shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and pushed the pain away. “Anyway, that night, I knew that I needed to get Nadir to stop thinking. There’s a… place that he goes in his head when he is given pain the right way. It’s similar to the place Teman goes when he is denied for a while and lets go.” Bathasar nodded and Cyrus continued. “I needed to get Nadir into that place so that he could stop thinking about Jasim and bring himself back to where he needed to be. We didn’t always enjoy the people we were given to.” He paused to give a mirthless chuckle. “I would have to say most of the time, we didn’t, in fact. But thanks to our conditioning, we only have to pretend up here.” He pointed to his face. “But the state that Nadir was in meant that he couldn’t even do that. And if the malik—I’m sorry, Mukesh—requested him… well, we didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of seeing Nadir miserable. But all of that aside, I wanted to help him move forward, get past it. I knew he wouldn’t get over his grief right away, but… if I could help at least a little….” He shrugged.

“Did it?” Bathasar asked.

Cyrus nodded. “I helped him focus. On serving, on giving, then put him in that place that he needed to go to be able to separate himself from the pain. When we woke the next day, he’d managed to handle a lot of it.” He smiled. “He even apologized for letting it bother him as much as it did.”

Bathasar chuckled. “That sounds like him. What… what did you do?”

Cyrus’s eyes unfocused for a moment as he thought back. “The first thing it takes for Nadir to get into that place is to take control away from him. Of anything—everything. Bind him, anchor him in some way so he can’t move—or can only move a little. I make sure he knows he is giving pleasure, so I had him pleasure me with his mouth, but again, I controlled it. Eventually, I gave him the flogger and paddle as well.” He smiled at the memory of Nadir’s face. “He’s… beautiful when he’s in there, that place in his head.”

“I can imagine… pretty well, actually.”

Cyrus looked up. “Yeah, I guess you can.”

“Um….” Bathasar paused and sighed. “I….” He glanced over to Teman and Nadir, and he watched them for a long moment as Teman pointed to something in a book and said something they couldn’t hear. “I don’t want to be my father,” he finally whispered.

It was so quiet Cyrus almost didn’t hear it. He’d never quite expected that. He blinked and stared at Bathasar for some time before he managed to shake his head and drop his gaze. He frowned, puzzling over how to approach it. “What… what makes you think you would be?”

“He liked to give pain,” Bathasar said simply.

“Ah.” Cyrus nodded. He gave himself a little bit of time to consider his words carefully. “When I had Nadir alone last year, I… recognized something about myself.” He paused to think it through, then continued. “It had been there—I’d noticed it while helping Salehi a few times—but I hadn’t quite been willing to recognize it. Though why that should be, I can’t really tell you—I don’t know why I hesitated.” He shook his head. “But… I liked giving that pain.”

Bathasar blinked at him but said nothing.

“Do I… behave like your father did?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

“Of course not!” Bathasar was quick to assure him.

“The thing is, you may not even like it….” Cyrus began but paused at Bathasar’s look. “What?”

Bathasar took a deep breath. “I… I don’t know, I think I might.”

“What makes you think that?” Cyrus tilted his head in consideration.

“I like when he hands control over to me. Tying him down, teasing him, denying him.” He blew out a breath. “I think…. I mean, the idea… well….” He shook his head. “It… it’s arousing, to be perfectly honest. So…. But… how is that different than what my father did?”

Cyrus smiled. “Do you remember what I said earlier?” When Bathasar frowned in thought, Cyrus asked, “Why would you be doing it?”

“Because he wants… ohhhh!”

Cyrus grinned as Bathasar’s face cleared in understanding, and he nodded. “Exactly.”

“I’m still not sure I won’t turn into my father.” Bathasar sighed. “I don’t…. I don’t know what made him that way.”

“I don’t think anyone could know, Bathasar. Perhaps that’s just how he was? I don’t think he got that way because he gave pain. Salehi would have a long time ago, then, wouldn’t he?”

Being a Dominant and being a sadist—liking to give pain—are not inherently inclusive. It’s a difficult concept for those not in the BDSM lifestyle to understand. They often do go hand in hand, but it’s not a requirement. Bathasar learned that bit. But when he started to realize that his partner wanted something more, he struggled quite a lot with it.

BDSM is often misunderstood and pain is even more so. It gets labeled “abuse” often by people who don’t understand it. I’ve been told a number of times that readers of BDSM don’t necessarily want to read the safe side of it. While I am afraid I’ll have to disappoint them (because I refuse to glamorize unsafe BDSM practices), it does make me wonder.

Do you as readers like to read the Safe, Sane and Consensual portions of BDSM? How do you react to reading scenes that are obviously not the way BDSM should be? Could you learn to accept it for your own partner?

* * *

Deception3

Cyrus and Nadir first met as hungry orphans on Behekam’s streets at twelve years old. They became friends, then partners in the thievery that enabled them to survive, and as they passed their days together, they fell in love. When they are both taken as pleasure slaves in the opulent palace of the Malik of Neyem, love becomes more complicated.

Rumors of an attempt on Malik Bathasar’s life put Cyrus and Nadir’s relationship to the test—they must pose convincingly as intimate slaves to the young malik as part of a plan to lure the assassin into the open. Teman—Malik Bathasar’s real personal pleasure slave and true lover—was once trained by Cyrus for the same duties, and the attraction and care Cyrus developed for him then still remains. The Malik of Neyem proves an easy man to love and Nadir’s feelings for him grow while they’re pretending to love each other.

Cyrus and Nadir care deeply for each other but they’ve forgotten the first rule of love: communicate in honesty. Their love remains strong enough to weather the changes—if they have the courage not only to face the coming dangers, but to put aside deception and find their truth.

The Golden Collar series: Choices, Coronation & Deception

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Guest Author: Grace R. Duncan!

Today I have a special treat to share from Grace R. Duncan. She’s taking us inside the mind and heart of a Dom, including a peek into her new release Deception.

Thanks for visiting, Grace!

“Kink” is a very broad word. It’s often automatically associated with BDSM (or Bondage & Discipline, Domination & Submission, Sadism & Masochism), but really, kink involves anything that is non-vanilla sex. However, it is BDSM that I would like to discuss today as my kink month post. I have been involved myself, with many different aspects of BDSM. I love it, love most of the things involved with it (though there are plenty of kinks I won’t touch with a ten-foot pole). But one of the things I get into most is the Domination & submission part of it.

Last week, I talked on Shira Anthony’s blog, about the submissive mindset in a D/s relationship. I am submissive and it is an easy thing for me to understand. However, turning that around to understand the Dominant mindset is quite a bit more challenging. It’s almost like a different language.

But for Deception and, to a lesser extent, Choices, I needed to be able to understand that. In Choices, Bathasar was brand new to dealing with and controlling a pleasure slave. As he was learning, so was I, so it was a bit easier. However, Cyrus, a pleasure slave for years, had been exposed to it much longer and I needed to be able to understand that much better if I was going to write about it accurately.

The problem that comes with this, like any other aspect of BDSM is that being a Dominant (like being a submissive) is extremely individualized. What one Dom might tell me a different Dom might immediately contradict. For every Dominant out there, there is a different way of doing things. I wouldn’t be able to capture and write about a “standard” Dom since there really isn’t any such thing.

Still, there was one I was very close to that I could ask: my own Sir. So I sat him down and picked his brain about his side of the D/s relationship. One thing both sides agree on: there is no right way to “do” D/s. As such, there’s no “right” way to Dom.

And while there is no “right” way—because everyone has a different way—there is a wrong way. Avoiding safety, ignoring the single most important part of BDSM, which is the SSC credo: safe, sane and consensual. Some argue that SSC isn’t necessary in fiction. I disagree and I’ll leave it at that, as it’s beyond the scope of my post here. (Seriously, I could go on longer than Choices about all the aspects and facets of a BDSM relationship and kink play.)

Anyway, the first question I had to ask my Sir was, “why do you like to Dom?” Honestly, I already knew part of it, because this is the way he thinks–to do something for me that I want. That’s the easy part. But being a Dominant involves a lot more than that and I needed to dig deeper if I was going to write one. (I am also well aware that, for some people, it’s not a “like” issue. Some people just are dominant or submissive and would never be comfortable switching, which is fine. My Sir and I are like that.)

So, what did he say? Something that had already been brewing in my mind for Cyrus, anyway: to have something he can control.

In our normal, modern-day world, there are often things that happen beyond our control. When this happens, when they get crazy, a Scene can help my Sir feel like he’s actively controlling something. He plans, organizes and sets up the Scene and every aspect of it is up to him.

Cyrus, likewise, has very little in his life that he can control. He is a slave. In the end, what he does and with whom is not up to him. His body is not even his to control. And it drives him nuts. On top of that, his first sexual experiences, while consensual, were far from pleasant and those are always in the back of his mind.

One way he can find a bit of control in his otherwise out-of-control world, is to dominate whenever he can. Until Deception, that didn’t happen often. Usually, when he and Nadir were requested together, he could guide Nadir in the ways he wanted, but that was about it.

However, in Deception, he finds himself being given much more responsibility in dominating not only Nadir, but also, now, Teman.

Now, he is faced with doing much more than guiding and controlling the sex between himself and his lover, but taking care of Nadir’s and Teman’s submissive mindsets, dominating them completely and then even planning a full scene!

Needless to say, Cyrus… well, he was quite conflicted to find himself in a fully dominant position. It grows over the course of the book, but being the one both responsible for and in control of a full Scene is a lot more than anything he’d done before with them. And it simultaneously thrills him and makes him incredibly nervous.

But as he started thinking it through, he realized that, having helped their slave master, Salehi, train other slaves, he did have experience. He really did know what to do. He just needed to plan carefully and as he does, he realizes he can handle it.

Even knowing this, when the time comes to actually do it, he is, once more nervous.

CYRUS paced the length of the bathing room, trying to calm his nerves. He barely noticed the deep-blue silk tunic, pants, and slippers he was wearing. He’d finally started to get used to wearing clothes again, so it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it once was. Instead of being miserable, he was just slightly uncomfortable, and he knew it would get better the more he wore them. The clothes were important; he needed to help establish his dominant position over both Teman and Nadir, and being dressed when they were naked was part of that.

His cock was out of its cage and hard, and that caused him more problems, much more than the clothes. But he’d requested this, not wanting to have to fight with the cage when the time came.

The biggest problem he was having was his nerves. He’d been trying to calm himself and get over his nervousness for more than a week, since before he’d been to see Salehi. But every time he’d calmed down, every time he thought he had it, his nerves would unreasonably kick in, and he’d worry he wouldn’t do it right, wouldn’t handle them right, or something.

And now it was here.

Teman and Nadir were in the main room, slowly edging themselves. They wore thick gold cock rings, thinner glans rings, and the jeweled plugs Cyrus liked. They’d been denied since his visit to Salehi, and both were more than ready for release. Nadir had nearly been glued to Cyrus for the last couple of days as his denial hit the point of desperation. Bathasar sat on a chair in front of them, watching them, waiting for the evening to begin.

And Cyrus needed to get over his nerves and just do it.

He could handle this. He knew it. But when he’d been doing it for Nadir, just the two of them alone, it had been different. Then, he knew what to do because he knew Nadir. He knew Teman too; that wasn’t a problem.

But now he wasn’t just doing something for them, he was also trying to show Bathasar there was a good and positive way to give pain. He knew there was an element of convincing he had to do with this. And any pain play Teman might want in the future was dependent on this evening.

While Cyrus has more riding on the success of this particular Scene than the care of his submissives, he is still very aware that the main thing he must care for is them. He understands that to give to them, he must give them the chance to please him. But ultimately, what he cares most about is making sure that they are cared for.

So, in the end, while he loves that he can finally control a small portion of his life, he’s well aware of how precious that bit is and how much he must balance to do it right. But he loves it and the challenge to reach that balance is a big part of what makes that dominance so attractive to him.  Being able to keep that balance gives him the confidence to do and go after the things he needs when faced with the big choices.

Follow the giveaway here: http://tinyurl.com/puw3nro
For more from Grace, check out her website here: http://www.grace-duncan.com

or on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2
To check out the entire Golden Collar series, head over to the Dreamspinner Press page here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=976

Be sure to check the Facebook page and visit my other blog stops in celebration of Deception’s release for more chances to win!

* * *

Cyrus and Nadir first met as hungry orphans on Behekam’s streets at twelve years old. They became friends, then partners in the thievery that enabled them to survive, and as they passed their days together, they fell in love. When they are both taken as pleasure slaves in the opulent palace of the Malik of Neyem, love becomes more complicated.

Rumors of an attempt on Malik Bathasar’s life put Cyrus and Nadir’s relationship to the test—they must pose convincingly as intimate slaves to the young malik as part of a plan to lure the assassin into the open. Teman—Malik Bathasar’s real personal pleasure slave and true lover—was once trained by Cyrus for the same duties, and the attraction and care Cyrus developed for him then still remains. The Malik of Neyem proves an easy man to love and Nadir’s feelings for him grow while they’re pretending to love each other.

Cyrus and Nadir care deeply for each other but they’ve forgotten the first rule of love: communicate in honesty. Their love remains strong enough to weather the changes—if they have the courage not only to face the coming dangers, but to put aside deception and find their truth.

Bi Pride Week: Grace R. Duncan

Happy Tuesday!

I had planned to have two lovely guests and fellow Dreamspinner Press authors, but the day belongs to Grace R. Duncan and she gets right to the point!

I like that in an author. 🙂

I am bisexual. As I am sure you’ve seen by others on the blog this week, this is not something many of us talk about. There’s a reason for this, in my opinion. Like most parts of the GLBT rainbow, bisexuality is mired in misunderstanding and hate, for various reasons.

One of the biggest misunderstandings is that bisexuality—like its name—is a weird duality. There are a lot of assumptions made about us: that we are promiscuous, that we’re either in the closet or experimenting, that we automatically want to have a three-way with you and your boy/girlfriend, that we have it easy out in the world. This last brings us to the duality I mentioned.

When I was in high school, I had the worst crush on my best friend. She was… well, back then I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the school. We’ll call her “B.”  B was… oblivious. And though after high school, she wanted to experiment, that’s all it ever was for her.

But I also had crushes on guys. And because I did, I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I knew I wasn’t gay, though that was, back then, still talked about only behind a hand, even among the crowd I was part of. We were what the current crop calls “goths”. Non-conformists. However you want to label it. But even among our very open-minded friends, it wasn’t something discussed.

So, I suppressed it. I focused on the guys, tried to ignore my attraction to my friend and kept my head down.

And this is, in a small way, a privilege that bisexuals have that our gay brethren don’t. We can still appear more “normal” than our gay friends can. We can at least look like we fit in with everyone else.

It’s still a closet, but, in my opinion, even worse for the fact that it’s got doors on both sides. And both doors must stay closed. Because even now, there are still the misunderstandings I discussed above.

My men in my novels, many of them, are bisexual. Yes, I have men who are almost completely gay and I have straight people (plenty of them) in my novels, as well. Because no single group exists in a vacuum. As faulty as the Kinsey test is, the scale itself is representative of, what I believe, is a big truth that many people don’t want to admit: more of us are bisexual than we’d like to admit. The scale is a range. You don’t go from 1 (Heterosexual) to 3 (Bisexual) to 6 (Gay) with nothing in between. And I believe that everyone falls somewhere between 1 and 6. I know, right now people are ready to hit the “back” button because I’m crazy. Just my opinion.

In my current WIP, No Sacrifice, the MC Patrick discovers that he’s bisexual in the very uncomfortable position of a kissing scene on the current television show he is filming. He plays a gay man, has kissed his co-star a few times, but they were very simple, very basic. But he finds out fast that when the kisses get deeper, when more is involved, his co-star feels good. Later on, they decide to rehearse for a scene they have coming up and Rhys (the co-star) asks Patrick some of the very same things. I’m rather partial to the way Patrick ends up explaining it (please note that this is NOT professionally edited):

 

Patrick fought the urge to scowl. He could hear under Rhys’s too-casual words that there was more to the questions. He took a deep breath and let it out to be able to keep his voice calm. “No, I’m not gay.”

Rhys looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re not? But…”

Patrick shook his head. “No. I’m bi. Bisexual,” he added at Rhys’s confused look.

“Bisexual? Like…”

“Like, I like both men and women,” Patrick explained.

“Both? Are you sure you’re just not… like, curious or something?”

Another head shake. “No. I like men as much as women. I probably always have, just suppressed it.” He took a sip of his beer before continuing. “There was a guy in high school and one in college I remember being attracted to. But back then, I didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

“Then maybe you’ve just been in the closet,” Rhys said.

Patrick blinked at him. “No, I’m quite sure I’m still attracted to women.”

“Really?” Rhys asked, one eyebrow raised. “But if—”

“Tits and dick, okay? I like both.” Patrick frowned, deciding to put it out there. “I watch gay porn and like it. Em’s tits still turned me on when I was up there. So… yeah. Bi.”

The novel I have out currently—Choices—has more than one bisexual man in it. Jasim, the best friend of the MC, has a very close relationship with one of the pleasure slaves and yet later ends up with a woman. Teman, the main character, had been with women before he comes to the palace. And though the other MC in Choices is pretty much gay all around, there are plenty who are not. Because, as I said before, I believe in real life, that’s how people are.

I fully expect to keep this up and hope that, with just a little more understanding, the closet doors on both sides can be opened permanently.

Choices by Grace R. Duncan eBook

Born and raised a gypsy in the late eleventh century, Teman values freedom over everything. He and his best friend, Jasim, are thieves for hire—until one night they’re caught and their precious freedom is revoked. Given the choice between the dungeons or palace pleasure slavery, they become slaves, but Teman vows to escape someday.

Bathasar doesn’t want the throne. He supports his brother instead, which suits their sadistic father, Mukesh. When Teman, the handsome slave Bathasar has secretly been watching, saves his life, Bathasar requests a slave for the first time. Before long, Bathasar and Teman fall in love. But all is not well. One day Mukesh brutalizes Teman before the court, angering the empress of a neighboring nation. To appease her, he then offers her Jasim as a gift, and Teman decides to stay with Bathasar for now—despite the abuse he may suffer.

The peace doesn’t last. Mukesh plans to invade Jasim’s new country, and Bathasar must find a way to stop the destruction. But if he succeeds, he’ll ascend to the throne and have the power to grant Teman his liberty. Then Teman will surely leave him. What other choice could a gypsy make?

Grace R. Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age—many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children—both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance, and other erotica, or even dabbling in art.

Website: http://www.grace-duncan.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2