Wednesday, February 29, 2012

For the Love of Bears

Please help me in welcoming Hank Edwards to the third day of the Bear Talk Blog Hop. He has some insights into his love affair with the furry men, a hot excerpt, and a chance to win "Bounty: Venom Valley Book 1".

The fine, silken threads of hair climbing up from beneath the collar of his T-shirt.
A soft brush of hair across his tanned forearm.
Three days' worth of stubble darkening his jawline, ready to graze my skin.
The whorls of fur that cover his broad chest, slide lower to gather in a soft, wiry clump at the base of his cock like a big, furry fist.
As the descriptions above support, I love hairy men. Always have, always will. There's something just so inherently masculine about men with hairy bodies that gets me. I love summer, when the college men are back home, perhaps working for a lawn service in tank tops and cargo shorts, their plump, furry calves dusted with grass clippings, or prowling the aisles of the local home repair, strong jaws shadowed with stubble, paint caught in the hair on their forearms.
Yeah, I know … it's an addiction. But it's been a lifetime's worth of addiction. Trying to pinpoint that moment in time when the attraction made itself known is like trying to finesse your first dream out of your memory. I do remember growing up a child in the late 70's, and being amazed at the buffet of men sporting body hair on TV and in movies. There was something so strong, so manly, so natural and animal about them it made all my special places tingle.
From weekend repeats of Wild, Wild West in which Robert Conrad wiggled into the tightest pants I'd ever seen and seemed to lose his shirt every third episode, to Lee Majors as Colonel Steve Austin in The Six Million Dollar Man and that fine patch of pelt he liked to flash, my young hormones were in a constant tailspin. When my mother chased me out of the house, I went to the movies, and there was Harrison Ford playing cocky, gorgeous space pirate Han Solo in Star Wars with his shirt open and his dark chest hair on display. While all the girls in school had pictures of young, pretty Luke Skywalker hanging in their lockers, I secretly craved some time in the secret floor compartments of the Millennium Falcon with Captain Solo where we'd have our own, private flesh saber duel.
In the 80's, Gil Gerard appeared, starring in Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, and I sat close to the TV, eyes wide, paying close attention for those brief moments when he would strip off his shirt to display that soft brown veldt of fur. We didn't have DVRs back then; hell, the VCR wasn't even popular yet, so no hope for a quick rewind and screen freeze. During this time period, I grabbed as many glimpses of chest hair as I could, even Charleton Heston in the movie Planet of the Apes. I gotta tell you, I was practically screaming "PUT your paws on me, you damn, hairy ape!"
And then, the big guns appeared, and I knew I was completely lost. A little show titled Magnum, P.I., showed up and it starred the biggest, furriest, mustachioed man of the bunch. Tom Selleck. Gah. I'm surprised I wasn't dehydrated for those eight years that show was on.
The 90's and 00's were all about toned bodies and sleek skin. Hardly a patch of fur in sight. It was a dark time for the bear lover, but I hung in there. I went to bars and dated men, always feeling that special thrill when I would catch a glimpse of fur beneath his rayon shirt.
And now, I have settled into domestic life with a bear of my own, who also loves bears. We share pictures found on the web with each other, and point out hotties for each other when out in public. It's a very good thing, and I'm very fortunate.
Now that I've told you my story, scroll a little lower for an excerpt from my book Bounty: Venom Valley Series, Book One. Dex Wells, a town deputy, has caught up with his best friend, Josh Stanton, who's on the run from the law. Up to now they've only been friends, but the desperation of the situation is about to change all that.
Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of my book, Bounty the first in a series of paranormal gay romance novels set in the Old West. Be sure to leave your email address so we can contact the winner.
And don’t forget to check out Margie Church at DC Juris's blog
You can find the entire Bear Talk Blog Tour schedule here on Ike Rose's blog:
Oh, and, by the way, my character Dex is one fine, hairy specimen of a man. Just sayin'…
Bounty buy link:
Excerpt from Bounty:

Dex rolled Josh onto his back and slid down, kissing and taking his nipples between his teeth. Josh closed his eyes and surrendered to Dex, moaning and gasping with each new place touched by his tongue. When Dex licked the length of Josh’s cock, then moved up to take him into his mouth, Josh cried out in surprise and a blaze of desire.
“Oh God, Dex,” Josh groaned. He closed his eyes and focused on Dex moving his mouth up and down the suddenly pulsing, bucking length of his cock as his climax gathered hot and powerful at the base of his spine. It shot forth, blasting into the damp, eager depths of Dex’s throat where he swallowed it down.
Josh pulled Dex off him and kissed him deep, tasting the tang of his own seed on Dex’s tongue. He rolled Dex onto his back and returned the favor, licking and kissing the hot skin of his board stiff cock, taking it in his mouth and tasting the sweat. This was Dex, the center of the man and pure masculine essence that made him who he was. This was a part of Dex no other person, man or woman, had ever known before.
“Oh, God,” Dex groaned above him. “Josh… Oh, Josh. I’m gonna…”
Dex erupted in his mouth and Josh tried to swallow as much as he could, but a good portion of the thick, white seed spilled out from between his lips and ran down the sides of the shaft. When Dex had finished, Josh used his tongue to collect as much of the spilled stuff as he could, and then crawled up over his body to lay in the crook of Dex’s arm.
They kissed, tasting each other and themselves. The kiss deepened and, soon, both were hard again.
“Dex,” Josh said between kisses. “I’ve thought about you so often.”
“Me too,” Dex said.
“I want you to…” Josh paused, unsure how to ask. It wasn’t a natural act, but at this moment nothing in Belkin’s Pass was natural. He kissed Dex again and said, “I want you inside me.”
Dex rose up on an elbow and smiled down at him. The firelight sparked in the calm, blue lakes of Dex’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Josh licked his lips and nodded. “I am. Just… Slowly.”
They repositioned, Dex kneeling between Josh’s legs. He took hold of Josh’s feet and lifted his legs, hooking his ankles over the tops of his shoulders. Dex leaned down and ran the wide, soft top of his tongue up Josh’s granite length, then moved lower and licked the sensitive, hairy globes of Josh’s balls, nuzzling into the valley where his leg joined his torso.
“Oh, yeah,” Josh gasped. “Right there.”
But Dex didn’t linger. He used his tongue to paint his saliva lower still, coating the crack of Josh’s ass and flicking the tip across the twitching button of Josh’s hole. Josh closed his eyes, thought back on all the nights he had quietly worked a finger into himself, pushing to get at the spot that burned for a touch deep inside. Some nights he was able to find it, stroke it, press it, and send himself into shattering orgasm, biting back Dex’s name just behind his clenched teeth.
And now Dex rose up between Josh’s legs, drew a blunt, rough finger from between his lips. Josh felt the tip of Dex’s finger circle the outside of his hole, wetting it, slicking it with spit, marking Josh as Dex’s property. Dex dipped his finger inside, up to the first knuckle, retreated, dipped again, deeper, and continued to dip and retreat until he had one finger buried in him.
Josh groaned and squirmed beneath him. Dex added a second finger, keeping them tight together then spreading them apart, easing him open, preparing him. More spit pushed in deep by his fingers, Dex patient as the fire cracked beside them and dawn lightened the windows.
Finally, Dex took his swollen length in hand, spread the beads of slick, silvery juice across the rounded crown of his cock and pressed it to Josh’s hole. Dex took hold of Josh’s ankles, locked his gaze on Josh’s face, and eased into him.
Josh felt the rugged ring of his back passage resist at first, but Dex persisted and, soon, the broad tip pushed past. An uncomfortable burning followed, but Josh focused instead on tightening his muscles around the burrowing pole.
“You grip me so tight,” Dex grunted. He paused to close his eyes and catch his breath, and when he opened them, they looked at each other a long moment.
“I love you,” Dex said.
Josh lifted up and Dex leaned down to meet him for a kiss.
“I love you,” Josh replied.
Dex kissed him again, and then straightened up to push the rest of the way into him. He pulled back and pushed in slowly, picking up speed until he plunged into Josh with deep thrusts. Each stroke sent Dex’s cock across the magic spot Josh had worked so hard to get to each night and, in minutes, he felt himself spill over the edge and reached down to stroke himself to a splattering climax.
The muscles of his back passage tightened around Dex’s invading cock, gripping it hard, and the man soon followed suit. With a shout and a shudder, he tipped back his head and plunged in deep, his hips convulsing as he pumped his seed within Josh’s most intimate of places.
Sweat rolled down Dex’s face and torso and Josh winced at the sting of Dex’s withdrawal. Dex used a corner of the ratty old quilt to wipe them both clean, and then stretched out alongside Josh, smiling and leaning in for a kiss. Josh closed his eyes and waited, but when the expected kiss didn’t happen, Josh opened his eyes.
Dex supported himself with one arm beside him, eyes open and looking off toward the door, his expression troubled.
“What is it?” Josh asked.
“Heard something.”

Monday, February 27, 2012

BearTalk Blog Hop Kick Off

I am pleased to announce the first annual BearTalk Blog Hop. Today we kick off BearTalk, a week long event celebrating all things bear. Find out what we like about bears and the men and women who love them.

Be sure to check out all of the authors taking part in our blog hop. Don't forget to leave comments. There are prizes in the offing here. We did say it was a celebration!

Today's authors are:
Johnny Miles is hosting Louisa Bacio at

DC Juris is hosting Silvia Violet at

Johnny Miles will be with Silvia Violet at
I will be with Ike Rose at

Margie Church will be with DC Juris at
Hank Edwards will be here with me.

Deanna Wadsworth will be with Hank Edwards at
Tom Webb will be with Louisa Bacio at

Ike Rose will be with Margie Church at
DC Juris will be with Deanna Wadsworth at
DV Sadero will be here with me.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Deanna Wadsworth's Accidentally Beautiful Excerpt

Here is a SNEAK PREVIEW of my latest manuscript, ACCIDENTALLY BEAUTIFUL, A 1Night Stand Story. 
I don't have a cover yet, but if you enjoyed BEAR IT ALL, you are gonna love this super sexy, sweet D/s story which follows the hot, tropical one night stand of Garret Fisher (friend of John, the bear in BEAR IT ALL) and Martin Baird (the concierge in Wendy Burke's 1Night Stand book THE ONE HE CHOSE) 

ACCIDENTALLY BEAUTIFUL will be available March 6th from Decadent Publishing. Thank you so much, Kayla for sharing the first preview!
~ Deanna
Romance with Spice....Love without Boundaries

Maybe night should be blamed—the way a man could hide in its shadows—the alcohol or the mysterious, sweet smoke in the air, but Martin silenced his protests and allowed Garret to lead him onto the dance floor.

Taking hold of his hips, Garret began to sway to the tropical sounds of the small band playing steel drums and guitars while the singer filled the bar with his sultry tones. Martin remained still, feeling foolish as men moved like liquid sex around them. While the sight aroused him—or could it be the taste of tequila and Garret still in his mouth?—he felt grossly inadequate. Having been trained in classic dance only, this grinding was completely foreign to him. Sure, he’d seen it, but such dancing had been designed by the trendy, those with rhythm and confidence.

A familiar panic grew inside him, but then Garret’s masterful eyes twinkled out from behind his glasses. “Trust me, Marty. I got you.”

Despite being scared of where they were and what he already felt for Garret, the tension in Martin’s back eased the instant Garret took his arms and placed them around his neck. Heart pounding, Martin buried his face in his strong neck, stubble scratching him, beard tickling him. Unbelievable gratitude and attachment swept over him, and he relaxed into Garret, allowing him to roll their bodies as he saw fit.

How had he managed to stumble across this glorious man today? Moving to the exotic music, he decided he didn’t care what beautiful accident had brought them together. He closed his eyes and went with it. Though it might sound crazy, he felt safe with Garret.

He trusted him.

The tempo of the reggae tunes and beat of their hearts set the rhythm of their bodies. Garret slid a leg between his thighs, flush to his balls, and began a sensual undulation of hips, gripping Martin’s butt and pressing their groins together.

Damn, he loved how those big hands almost covered both his cheeks.

Squeezing, Garret pulled his ass open a little bit, and Martin moaned at the delicious stretch of tender skin. Their hard cocks rubbed together as they moved, exciting his blood. He’d never danced with a man before. Like making love on a dance floor, fully clothed, with no one staring, judging. Two men doing something straight people took for granted all the time. It was sheer heaven.

Garret whispered his name and when he raised his face, Garret claimed his mouth—no foreplay of lips this time, just raw hunger. Whimpering under the dominant way he fucked his mouth, Martin arched into him, craving closeness to this force of sexual heat and power. Though, the only way to be closer would be naked with Garret buried deep inside him.

Fire scorched his middle, and he found himself thrusting in time with the music, begging for what he suddenly needed—to be claimed in the most carnal way. Garret ground their erections together, his hands clutching and drawing Martin closer still. Their breaths came rough through their noses, as if neither wished to break the connection of their mouths. Hunger, electric and wild, raced through him when Garret trailed frantic kisses up his neck, over his jaw, finding erogenous zones heretofore undiscovered. He trembled when Garret sucked on his earlobe, taunting him with what his mouth might do to his dick.

“You taste so good, Marty. I can’t wait to eat your ass,” Garret murmured in his ear. “Taste your cum.”

A violent thunderbolt of desire ripped through him. “Bloody fucking hell! Aye, please… I want ya, too…soo verra much.”

Garret jerked his head back. “What did you say?”

“Aye,” Martin pleaded, unbearable craving consuming him. “Evera thing ya said. I want it, too. Please, sir….”

“Where are you from? I’ve been trying to place your accent all night.”


Garret groaned, his grip on Martin’s ass tightening. “That is so fucking hot,” he said, dragging him off the dance floor, and once more into the unknown.

He didn’t resist. Rather, just like he had been doing all night, he ran after him, a dog in heat. “Where are we going, sir?”

Whirling on him, lust blazed in Garret’s face. “To find somewhere I can get your dick in my mouth.”

“Um…right. Okay.”

Martin had no idea where Garret led them, but he didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn about the groans coming from the shadows behind the bar, propriety—nothing. Nothing mattered but being with Garret.

Halfway to the beach, past tall grasses flickering in the breeze but still within plain view of the patio above them, Garret pressed him against the rail lining the path, kissing him with a sudden passion. Formidable hands cupped his face, and Martin groaned, his entire body hungry.

Despite the pleasure of Garret’s teeth nipping at his neck, his mouth sucking and drawing up a love bite, Martin could not ignore the sounds of men laughing and dancing on the patio above. When he glanced up, he caught a guy with a beer watching them, smiling.

“Garret…people can see….”

“So?” He stroked Martin’s chest, making it extremely difficult to think. “Maybe I want them to see.”


“Shhh,” he whispered, his lips feather-light on Martin’s neck, hands snaking down the back of his waistband to grip the bare flesh of his ass. “Maybe I want them to see you’re mine.”

His fear dissolved at that word.


Garret kissed him then. Lost to his power, Martin closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open so Garret could do what he chose. He would anyway.

Which was just how it should be.

No one had kissed him so thoroughly before, taking his time, exploring the inside of his mouth, and lips, licking him everywhere and leaving him breathless. He held still, savoring and being savored, while Garret taught him a whole new definition of oral sex.

When Garret retreated to catch a breath, Martin’s tongue followed, needing more. Garret flicked it with his own, then sucked on it, teasing it like a glans. Martin whimpered, his dick so hard it had become painful. The fervent way Garret caressed the length of his back made all the skin on his body tingle. His thumbs slid to the front of Martin’s trousers, brushing his abdomen as they fiddled with the button.

“I’m gonna blow you.”

Martin shivered, loving the coarse, American terms, the sinful promise in his tone.

Until reality hit him.

Fear cut through his passion fast, and his eyes went to the men on the patio, some of whom had paused to watch them. When the weight of what Garret intended hit him, he gasped, arching away. “Right here?”

Garret’s grip on his waist tightened, his expression heavy with carnal authority. “Right here.”


Another impassioned kiss cut off his protest.

Martin whimpered under the assault of mouth and tongue. Damn, he would sell his soul to Garret if he would promise to kiss him like this forever. His resolve dissipated, and he swayed his hips to the rhythm of the music drifting out from the bar, his reasoning power obliterated as his dick took over all normal brain function.

My God, what is this man doing to me?

Garret withdrew, turning his hat backwards and tucking his glasses into the V of his collar. “Trust me, Marty.”

Breathing heavily, Martin’s eyes darted to their spectators.

Garret tsked. “Only me, Marty. Only look at me.”

Unsure, terrified—and harder than he had been in all his life—he nodded, attention locked on Garret kneeling in the sand before him. Off in the distance, he heard someone say, “Get a load of that.”

This can’t really be happening….

Post a comment and you can win your own copy of BEAR IT ALL
You can find Deanna's other spicy stories at or
Stay tuned for ACCIDENTALLY BEAUTIFUL March 6th!!!

~Deanna Wadsworth~
Romance with Spice... Love without Boundaries

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Not Just Another Blog Post

Over the past couple of years, when one of my books was released, I tried to get out there and do what I’ve seen other authors do. Lately, however, I’ve been doing even more of it: posts on my personal blog, guest posts, and even author interviews. By emulating the writers I’ve befriended in the various Facebook groups I belong to, I quickly came to realize that writing a book is hard. Promoting it is even harder.
         Promo makes me feel like I’m a little kid again, hand up in the air jumping up and down in my seat after the teacher asked a question. Except in this case -- instead of saying, “Ooo, ooo! I know, I know! Pick me, pick meeeeeeeee!” -- it’s like I’m telling the world, “Hey! Look at me, damnit! I’m here!”
         And that’s a bit tough to swallow believe it or not.
         For someone who came from a generation of “children should be seen and not heard,” this promo thing sometimes feels like I’m calling too much attention to myself. Frankly, it also sucks the energy out of me and makes me feel…well, frankly…cheap.
         But I’ve been called cheap before. I’ll leave you to ponder on the where, when, and why.
         As a writer, promo is part of the package. The just-released work might stand alone just fine but it doesn’t hit the bestseller list or sell millions of copies by magic and hoping alone. Though one can certainly dream.
         Publishers certainly do their share. After all, it’s in their best interest. They’ve invested in you. They certainly don’t want to waste their time. We as authors, however, must talk the talk and walk the walk. We need to get out there, meet readers, and share our passion because these are our stories, our words, our babies. No matter how much work and advertising a publisher is willing to do, in the end, it’s the author who must continue to help sell the book by spreading the word. Singers and actors do it so why not us? Besides, to keep getting royalties we gotta hustle. We don’t get paid until those books start moving.
         Sadly, none of this is learned -- or realized -- until that proverbial lightbulb goes off over our heads. People can tell you anything they want about their growth, the things they’ve learned regarding promo; you’ll either digest it or you won’t. In most cases, none of us retain life lessons or experiences the first time around. It’s almost like we have to fuck up then keep fucking up in order to get it right.
         And so, with -- hopefully! -- a bit more experience under my belt, I continue to pimp “The Rosas of Spanish Harlem.”
         Since it was released this past January, I’ve been doing what I think is my fair amount of promo. Once again I’m writing blog posts and doing author interviews. This time, the difference is that I don’t feel nearly as self-conscious. Maybe I’m just getting used to it, though I must confess I’ve been feeling a bit drained mentally and physically. After all, there’s but so many spins I can put on a post to make each one read in a unique and fresh way. I guess it’s like an actor on stage who’s got the same part performance after performance.
         And it makes me wonder. How do they keep it fresh? How do they keep from phoning it in, as it were? How do they, who know how the story will end, keep that element of surprise?
         I’d been wondering what else I might do, how else might I be able to spread the word about “Rosas” when I was asked to join BearTalk, a private group created to help represent a faction of gay culture that doesn’t usually appear in the m/m genre. Even in the gay community -- at least here in Fort Lauderdale -- bears are sometimes looked down upon or joked about. I guess it’s not acceptable amongst certain circles to be hairy, to be a little chunky, or to be a bit rough and tumble.
         When I was first asked to join BearTalk, I thought, well, aside from me being a bear (or maybe I’m a bearcub?) I can’t exactly talk about my work from that angle. I have age differences and multicultural characters but never a bear hath crossed the picture. And then I remembered. William, the man who falls in love with Tracy in “Rosas,” is a muscle bear!
         Then it hit me. One of the reasons I’ve been having a hard time putting a new spin on the posts is because I’ve been approaching them from the same angle. Can you say duuuuuuuh?
         Perhaps it’s because the story is told in first-person or maybe it’s because of some other reason. Whatever the case, and I’m not sure why -- or if other authors do the same -- I always seem to get stuck looking at promo from the perspective of the character I either identify with, or most see as the lead. Not exactly a good way to promo considering I’m supposed to be writing a romance. After all, it takes two to go down that path whether they want to or not.
         And there are other characters in the story.
         Now, thanks to Kayla Jameth and Deanna Wadsworth, I think I’ll be able to remember I can approach a promo post from the perspective of almost any character. And if I don’t, I hope they’ll give me a swift mental kick in the ass as a reminder.
         Yes, “The Rosas of Spanish Harlem,” is about an 18-year-old crossdresser hellbent on losing his virginity. Yes, Tracy experiences some extremely gritty sexual encounters. Yes, this petite blond twink gets in way over his head. However, the story is about more than that. It’s about finding, believing, and standing up for yourself. It’s also about living your life the way you want, as opposed to living it for someone else or the way they think you should live it. It’s also about being comfortable in your own skin and being okay with the decisions you make.
         For William Rosa -- the beefy, muscular man Tracy couldn’t have anticipated -- it’s about all of the above and more. It’s about living your life so the only person from whom you need to seek approval is yourself because, hopefully, the person you fall in love with will accept you as you are; flaws included.
         Here’s Tracy’s first impression upon meeting William.
         The gruff, simian-looking man who stood before me was in his late twenties. He looked oddly familiar in a plain white T-shirt untucked from gray work pants. If this was Angel’s brother, he looked nothing like him. This one had deep-set eyes, wide lips, and a five-o’clock shadow though it was barely noon. His hairy forearms were thick, his pants stretched by muscled legs, and tufts of hair curled and peeked through the neck of his T-shirt.
         I know the story was labeled as porn noir by my publisher, which might make some people uncomfortable. It’s certainly not for the squeamish! However, if you’d like to try something off the beaten path, why not give “The Rosas of Spanish Harlem” a go? If nothing else, it’ll whet your appetite.
It's the summer of 1977 and sex is on Tracy McCarthy's mind. He's now 18 and hell-bent on losing his virginity when he spots Angel on the beach. After discovering restroom sex -- and meeting the handsome Latino Angel Rosa again -- Angel invites Tracy up to Spanish Harlem for more.
When Tracy makes the long trek by subway up to Spanish Harlem, he's exposed to a vibrantly different way of living; one filled with spicy foods, rhythmic music, and sexually-charged men. Along the way, however, the waif-like, cross-dressing young man also discovers that on the path to finding what he seeks, dark and disturbing dangers lurk -- in the minds of men, walking the streets, and in the hallways of Spanish Harlem tenements.
Growing up always contains surprises but will Tracy like the ones he finds on the way?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


My friend Deanna Wadsworth and I were talking about how bears don't seem to get their fair share of m/m lovin'. Originally Deanna was going to do a guest blog about bears and promo her new story "Accidentally Beautiful " the sequel to "Bear It All." But the more we talked about it, the more we decided that bears deserve more than a foot note. They deserve their own post.

So BearTalk was born, a multiple blog even from Feb. 27th through March 3.

Currently Deanna Wadsworth, Silvia Violet, and I are taking part. Several other m/m authors have been queried about being part of this. If anyone does want to join, either contact me or Deanna. Leaving a comment below is sufficient.

Come join in the fun!

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Hop Against Homophobia

I joined the blog hop Hop Against Homophobia today.  Currently there are 51 participants. I'm sure that by the time May rolls around that number will have more than doubled.

Every one of the blog participants will be providing a m/m themed gift. I intend to offer a copy of "Alexios' Fate". I'm sure many of the other authors will be doing the same.

This will be a good chance for everyone to find out more about the International Day Against Homophobia, get to know more authors and win some books. Hope to see everyone there!