Thursday, July 26, 2012

Shining a Light

For those who worry I don't understand the First Amendment, I retired from the US Navy after over twenty years of active duty service, protecting and defending the Constitution of the United States. I am quite aware of what the First Amendment guarantees. I will defend the rights of others to speak their opinions, even those with whom I disagree. However, there are limits. The First Amendment does not extend to fictional characters dispensing medical advice nor to fictional characters who make libelous posts that interfere with another’s right to do business.

For those who’ve never actually seen or read any of Darringer's posts, and are basing their opinions solely on the responses in the earlier thread, please understand that you are seeing the responses from people who have been bullied by this man for months. It’s very difficult to explain how far beyond a few simple bigoted remarks this extends. Darringer and his creator targeted specific authors and deliberately attempted to interfere with their ability to conduct business and promote their work. In effect, to prohibit them from doing their jobs. Months of ignoring this behavior resulted in an escalation of his attacks and his actions continued to interfere with the ability of these writers to effectively perform their jobs.

An online predator deliberately creates a believable but false persona in order to obtain personal and private information. That is in no way related to creating a pen name or using a stage name to keep your personal and business identities separate.

Under the false guise of a Marriage and Family Therapist, Darringer coerced personal, medical, and mental health information from people, then disclosed it on his Facebook page and ridiculed the person for revealing the information in the first place. He made many uneducated and inaccurate diagnoses of people, most often labeling with one of the following, excerpted from his July 19, 2012 blog post:

  ...codependent, narcissistic, egomaniacal, duplicitous...borderline personality... 
Behavior quite unheard of and unethical from a mental health professional. There were other serious questions raised by his frequent posts revealing patient information, and by the diagnostic misinformation he was spreading via his blog. 

I did attempt to report "Matthew Darringer" to the proper authorities that govern mental healthcare providers in California. He did not exist. Not just by name, but by any of the other information he’d “leaked’ about his position as a counselor

We will likely never know the true extent of all the damage he’s caused because of his frequent practice of deleting posts thereby altering the history of his timeline and blogs. It’s why so very many people started to screen capture his posts, in itself an unusual step. By using a combination of blocking and post deletions, he was able to spread his cruel and debilitating agenda across the MM writing community with impunity.

Anyone who followed Darringer’s blog or Facebook account for any length is familiar with his frequent outbursts against women authors of MM fiction and his personal vow to expose what he called the “Tampon Mafia.” 

I think it’s best to let Prewett and Darringer speak for themselves to close this post. In “Blacklisted,” a MatthewDarringerWrites blog post from Thursday July 19, 2012, Darringer wrote a long diatribe about the women of the “Tampon Mafia” and their failed attempt to have him blacklisted. He delivered a veiled threat that he would deliver a smack down to any of the women writers should they try to fight him. Remember, this was Matthew Darringer threatening to reveal the true identities of writers in the MM genre who use pen names.

Here is a direct quote regarding his position:

One thing is certain about bullies like these people. They fear light shining on their shit. I know how to flash the lights to high beam. They fear others will catch on and others have.
Matthew Darringer, July 19, 2012

This little light of mine…

Now, it’s time to heal,

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

When Words Paint the Picture: Who is Matthew Darringer?

There has been a lot of buzz around Facebookland recently surrounding Matthew Darringer, some of the reports so over the top it feels as if the stories can’t possibly be true. So who is Matthew Darringer? If you want to know, you could try asking him. When that fails…try Google.

According to Matthew Darringer’s public timeline, he created his Facebook account on September 4, 2011. It’s pretty difficult to find any record of him prior to that date. However, there is a record of an interview conducted eleven months ago, by fellow Bakersfield resident Lee Prewett.

Prewett was the registered owner of the now defunct Salton Sea Chronicles Blog. Although Prewett announced last month via his Twitter account that he no longer had time to maintain his blog, there is still a record of the posts via Networked Blogs. And from those records an interesting picture begins to emerge.

In the month before Prewett first interviewed Darringer, he posted a blog titled: The Union #WIP by Michael Ramsey. A few weeks later, Prewett posted an excerpt from The Union, by Michael Ramsey for the popular Six Sentence Sunday blog hop. A few weeks later came the first interview with Darringer, titled, A Few Minutes With Emerging Writer Matthew Darringer. The next post featured an article from Darringer, in which he discusses creating cover art, using an example from his own work in progress…The Union, by Matthew Lee Darringer. In fact, a quick scroll through Darringer’s own blog reveals dozes of covers for The Union, by Matthew Lee Darringer. There is no further mention I could find of Michael Ramsey, the first author featured as the author of The Union. Prewett virtually stopped posting on his blog…the same time Matthew Darringer started his blog.

Prewett’s Twitter handle is Lee Prewett @ SaltonLee, and although he’s not particularly active, there are several interesting tweets. On May 23, Prewett tweets a link with the message “An article on head hopping...reading now.” The link leads directly to Darringer’s blog, to an article he says was written by his editor, Lee Prewett. There are many other tweets providing links to Darringers work  until going back to mid August of last year, the same time frame when Darringer’s blog was created. Interestingly, in early August, Prewett had a conversation with @RICKmaniac1, a no longer active Twitter handle. They were making plans to meet at Zingo’s, a location prominently mentioned in Darringer's blog. Follow the series of Prewett’s tweets from August 8:

SaltonLee: @RICKmaniac1"Matthew" needs to do research for his novel
SaltonLee: @RICKmaniac1 Matthew and I understand each other
SaltonLee: @RICKmaniac1 Like having a meal with three writers for the price of 2
SaltonLee: @RICKmaniac1 lol I must do this, "Matthew" needs it.
SaltonLee: @RICKmaniac1 Matthew cannot wait to meet you

So what is Prewett to Darringer? That is an excellent question. Perhaps one of them would care to expound.

Part Two

“People suffering from NPD [Narcissistic Personality Disorder] have an extreme preoccupation with themselves.” Matthew Darringer, November 1, 2011

Darringer has repeatedly identified himself on Facebook as a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist located in Bakersfield. In California, the Board of Behavioral Sciences maintains a live public database of all mental health professionals for the protection of clients. After scrolling through all 1,347 names on file as of July 22, not one of them was named Matthew Darringer. Therapists are prevented from revealing information about their clients, unless the person poses a clear danger to himself or others.

The qualification standards for becoming a licensed therapist requires the prospective counselor to attend therapy in order to uncover and treat any personal issues or history the therapist potentially could project into the counseling relationship. Darringer has left a wide path of his own words, publicly available, and although some of his blog entries have been recently deleted, records have been saved. The following excerpts were taken directly from blog posts publicly available on July 22, 2012. Dates have been included for reference.

Aug 14, 2011
I won't do Facebook because I don't especially care about my family, their random baby making, and drunken brawls. I don't have happy pictures of my welfare Christmases to post. I sure as hell don't want a running record of who I'm in bed with saying how terrible I am.

Sept 14, 2011
I am not at liberty to discuss any of the sessions I have conducted, but suffice it to say, domestic violence is everywhere in this town regardless of sexual orientation.

Sept 20, 2011
I like that I have chosen a profession where I will receive insurance money to listen to people try to convince me they are right only to decide they really need me after they find they are wrong.
For a while now, I have run up against a few common threads among women who are either divorced, divorcing, or considering divorce.
My advice to men? Do NOT get married or share a bank account.

Sept 29, 2011
…It may be time to abandon marriage. I expect to be excoriated for this blog post, but unfortunately all you hot heads, the research shows without a doubt what I am saying to be fact. So be livid, but know I'm right and it sucks to be you if you refuse to confront hard truths…
… My advice to men:

1. Do not get married.
2. Do not commingle any financial resources.
3. Do not buy anything jointly.
4. Do not file taxes jointly.
5. Sign no joint contracts (mortgage, rental, buying a new fridge...)
6. Do not satisfy her needs if she is not satisfying yours EQUALLY.

The bottom line is that divorce lawyers are 100% behind all forms of marriage because it means more business down the road.

Oct 8, 2011
I had a session with a lady the a while ago who was insecure because her husband's head snapped every time he saw a beautiful woman. She then went into what I call "woman spew" where she vented while absolutely incapable of listening yet wanting to be told she was right.

Sorry toots! No can do.

I interrupted her narcissistic rant to ask what sex with him was like. She said he was great in bed, but was he thinking of the other woman? I replied: "So what if he is? He's bringing the sex to you. I guarantee you he knows whom he is screwing." She did a "yeah but" and I told her she had two choices: (1) dive in and ramp up his fantasy and enjoy the prodigious rewards of his sex (she adores sex with him), or (2) whine, bitch, moan, complain, and go passive aggressive--as so many women do in that position--and drive him away to the point he may go elsewhere for sex…

Dec. 3, 2011
…With my female clients who want to save their non-abusive relationships, I have to convince them to radically increase the frequency of sex even if they "know" they will not be orgasmic. Women who have frequent sex with their partner tend to be easily orgasmic. The data on this is massive. In essence, women would be happier if they screwed with the reckless abandon men have toward sex.
…Women who feel orgasmic tend to simplify the emotional ropes they impose on a relationship, which then makes men more engaged, which in turn makes women happier in the relationship….

July 3, 2012
About two months ago a couple sat before me for the first time. They had come to therapy because, as the wife put it, her husband “suddenly turned gay” and she wanted to make peace before she divorced him. She wanted triangulation. She would talk to me. I would talk to him and so on. I told her as THEIR therapist my goal was to get them to a place of real, unvarnished, no bullshit communication….

…I am so NOT a hand holder, but right off the bat it was blatantly obvious which of them was the issue. The cage fight was on and that is the only efficient way to deal with psychopathy...
…Ample evidence exists that modern women are very likely to suffer from a comorbidity of Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), which can then lead to psychopathy…

July 10, 2012
Some evidence suggests the reason that the straight male number is only 24% is not because straight males are wired differently, but rather that several things happen in a divorce. The financial rape of men continues unabated by the court system. Female bullying of men via demanding money or using children as weapons is prevalent. These numbers have decreased not because of “family values” but because of the (un)Equal Rights movement. Forty to fifty years ago, if a woman divorced, she was pretty much at the mercy of what her ex-husband was willing to part with. The (un)Equal Rights movement essentially made “his” money hers. Thus straight men have a kind of forced monogamy that their predecessors did not have. Going back in time straight men were more non-monogamous than they are now.

Nov 1, 2011
Bipolar disorder is serious business and while it may explain certain behaviors, it does not excuse them….
When confronted on the drama, a bipolar person will either cower, appear pathetic, and blame the disease or will lash out trying to make anyone else be the root cause. Both behaviors are manipulative and such manipulation leads to bullying.

Nov 5, 2011
I literally never bottomed until after leaving the scene because I never wanted to be a sub. I still do not want to be the sub. I am not that into bottoming, but if I were with a man in the bedroom, it would be about mutual wants and deciding what we will do together. If I “expect” a man to bottom for me, I should “assume” he has the right to shift roles if he wants to. An “I only top” or “I only bottom” stance can breed psychological dysfunction and really mess up a relationship.

Oct 25, 2011
#5 Make Love Not Sex
I love good, old, raunchy sex, but good, old, raunchy sex is only fun in the context of making love. I've "made sex" enough in my life to know the difference and the latter is empty.
As for technique, pay attention to what your lover loves and make the moment happen!

Sept 6, 2011
If all you want is inches, I'm not your man.
If all you want is shallow, I'm not your man.
I think I'm in crisis.
 July 19, 2011
I have long been on record that sex between men in gay literature should reflect what is their actual experience rather than be portrayed through a sanitized, female-centric lens with rose-petal-strewn sheets and warm towels for cleaning up the mess.

Darringer’s blog was available for public viewing as of the morning of July 23, 2012. I encourage any of you who still have questions to read through his blog. If Darringer is a real person and a real Marriage and Family Therapist, then his own words speak volumes about his qualifications. Everything in this post is publicly available information. I invite readers to share additional quotes or screen captures, but I ask that you respect the privacy of those possibly named in some of Darringer’s more blatantly offensive posts.

Maybe nothing here that’s admissible in a court of law, but then again, we’re not in those hallowed grounds, are we? No, this is the court of public opinion. I have mine, and I am sure you have yours.

Lee Prewett’s public FaceBook offers the following:

I'm dead honest and direct with zero tolerance for other peoples' petty, passive-aggressive crap.

Well said, Mr. Prewett.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Independence Day Blog Hop

It's a Blog Hop!!

And, it's new release week around here...Hold Tight...the long awaited sequel to Ty Hard is now available.

Obviously you'll find a lot of Holden and Drew, but you'll see Ty and Cass, too. Plus get a glimpse of the guys from the NEXT two books in the Willow Springs Ranch series.

Here's a look at the blurb and first chapter. Stop by all week for more excerpts from Hold Tight. There will also be give-a-ways from my other June new release, Redemption (Three's Allowed), the hot new MMF, and keep watch for a reissue of an old favorite---

The blurb:

Sheriff Holden Titus had organized his fresh start down to the last detail. Except for the part about the bomb that blew his plans all to hell. Now he’s running out of time, without a job, without a home, and struggling to get back on his feet. Literally.

Despite the impolite rejection, Drew knows he didn’t have the wrong impression months ago when he asked the sheriff to dance, but he never expected to have Holden’s life in his hands. Literally.

Thanks to some meddlesome matchmaking, the two men are now temporary housemates at the Willow Springs Ranch and Drew is determined to help Holden heal, both physically and emotionally. Even if it means he has to drag the other man kicking and screaming to physical therapy…and out of the closet. 

In fact, that might be kind of fun.
The problem is, Holden doesn’t consider himself in the closet…but not all secrets are created equal.


“What the fuck do you mean he’s on the way to the Willow Springs Ranch?” Sheriff Holden Titus shouted into his phone as he hurried into the kitchen.

Ty and Cass stopped their conversation to look at him as he struggled to untangle the Velcro tabs on his Kevlar vest. God this was just another cluster-fuck. Everything had been under control. Then one of his goddamn deputies located the suspect the entire county was looking for and decided to let him go? He shouted directions at the hapless officer who’d drawn the short straw and had been the one to call in the fuck up. Now the suspect appeared to be driving straight here to the ranch, the location of the original cattle killing crime. He hoped to God the man wasn’t looking to come after ranch-owner Cassidy Cartwright or his partner Tyler Hardin.

Holden wrapped up his conversation with a few terse orders then turned to face the two men. He apprised them of the situation, noting the way Cass moved closer to Ty while the former Navy SEAL seemed to bow up slightly, as if he was preparing for battle. He knew the man could handle himself, but given his struggle with PTSD, he’d just as soon the two men go somewhere else for a bit. Just in case the fugitive had fighting on his mind.

“I suggest—” His words were lost in a thundering explosion that rocked the kitchen to its foundation, shattering glass and raining hell upon all three of them. He couldn’t exactly say his life flashed before his eyes, but the regrets certainly did. In the remaining seconds of his life, Holden Titus saw a perfect vision of the future he would never have.

Chapter One

Holden pulled back on the right wheel and turned his chair in a slow circle as he looked around the room once more. He knew he hadn't forgotten anything, but it was a compulsion with him to leave everything in order.

“You ready, big guy?” Tyler asked from the doorway.

“More than goddamned ready,” he said.

“Oh, no, Mr. Ty. You're not allowed to wheel the sheriff out.” Annie, the petite Asian nurse who had tried her best to terrorize Holden for the last six weeks brushed the former Navy SEAL out of her way, like he was nothing more than a pesky housefly. “The rules say it must be one of the staff. Let's go Mr. Crabby Pants. Ty, you grab his bag. Did you bring the low car like I told you?”

“No, ma'am. We have to drive the truck to get to Willow Springs Ranch.”

“I'm not a damn invalid,” he said, automatically picking up the thread of their daily grousing match.

“Oh yeah? I don't see you walking out of here on those two fine legs.”


“Yes. But you're going to miss me.”

He would, but he wasn't going to admit it. No one spoke as he endured the indignity of letting Tyler lift him into the cab of the truck. Then Annie climbed onto the running board of the ranch truck, and pecked him on the cheek.

“Just because the rules say we had to use the wheelchair to take you outside, doesn’t mean you’re supposed to use it all the time. Get up on those legs and make them work. You follow the doctor’s orders, and do your damn PT, Titus, or I’ll kick your grouchy ass.” Without another word, she hopped down, slammed the truck door closed and pushed the chair back through the automated doors on the front of the glass vestibule of the long-term rehabilitation facility. Holden looked out the side window of the truck as they rolled away from the building that had been his home since his release from the hospital six weeks earlier. Now, he technically had no place to call home. He blew out a frustrated breath.

“Look, Ty…you don’t really have to do this,” he said. He immediately realized the stupidity of the comment. What the fuck else was he supposed to do? His legs didn’t yet work right, he couldn’t drive, and he had blinding migraine headaches. Cass and Ty had already packed up his second floor apartment and put his belongings in storage. The only place he had to go was the Willow Springs.

“Cass and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Cass blames himself, you know. You were at his house, trying to protect us. If you hadn’t been there you’d never have been hurt.”
Blinking rapidly and swallowing around the frustration, he tried to offer his own reassurance. “I won’t stay long, Ty. I just need a couple of weeks to figure out what I’m going to do. The docs don’t figure I can go back to…” he trailed off. What the fuck was he going to do now? No job, no home, and responsibilities weighing on him that weren’t going to go away.

Ty patted him awkwardly on the arm, but kept his eyes on the road. “Holden, there isn’t anybody on the planet that knows exactly how you feel right now, but I expect I’m pretty damned close. You talk when you’re ready. We’ve got a few things planned, including introducing you to Perry, my counselor at the VA. He’s really good with PTSD. I mean, I’m not saying you have that or anything,” Ty stammered. “We just thought…I mean Cass and I just thought it might be a good idea.”

Holden glanced over at the handsome man with the scar marring the right side of his face, from hairline to jaw. Medically discharged midway through his Navy career, no longer able to do the job he thought he’d do his entire life. He remembered that Ty had come to WSR to spend some time with Gibby, his Navy mentor and surrogate father, only to discover the man was dead. Suffering from debilitating PTSD, Ty had been in a bad way, but Cass had taken him in and the two men seemed to fit each other 
just right.

“Thanks, Ty. I don’t know what to feel.”

“You feel what you feel. There’s no right or wrong. It’s going to be weird at the ranch because that’s where everything happened.”

Thinking about it, he decided he could tell Ty. “I don’t remember any of it. They’ve placed Morgan in as acting sheriff, and he brought me some of the reports. I know you said I was on the phone, but I have no memory of anything after dinner.”

The salsa beat of his ring tone interrupted his recollection. He pressed the button on his new phone, courtesy of Cass. “Titus,” he answered. After the brief, one-sided conversation, Holden closed his phone.

The road was nothing more than two-lanes stretching endlessly into asphalt ribbons. The waves of heat created ever-elusive puddles of water, mirages that hovered always just in front of the truck but never attainable. A fucking metaphor for his life.

It would be easier to tell Tyler alone, before they arrived at the ranch. “Well, it’s official,” he said. “The mayor accepted my letter of resignation based on medical disqualification. The city wants to settle on an amount of compensation as soon as possible. They’ll have to cover all medical expenses outside the insurance, but that’s about it.”

“Talk to Cass before you settle anything,” Ty said. “Trust me on this, Holden. Now, hang on, it’s going to get bumpy,” Ty said. They turned onto the rough graded road that wound for twenty-five miles before eventually leading to the Willow Springs Ranch turn off.

Holden blew out a breath and shifted his legs to try and get into a more comfortable position as the truck bounced over the rutted dirt road.


Cass stood looking out the window of his study in the long, low adobe main house. He watched his lover lift Holden from the truck and place him in the borrowed wheelchair. The chair moved easily enough over the hard-packed dirt. Holden expertly maneuvered in a circle, then made for the low ramp the hands had added to the front of one of the twin casitas. Over the years, the small adobe houses had served as homes for the ranch cook and the ranch foreman. Currently both were empty and it seemed like a good idea to put Holden in the recently renovated unit. Using crutches and a wheelchair without help in his second floor apartment would have been nearly impossible. Cass had wanted him in the main house, but Ty had been right when he’d said although Holden was injured, he wasn’t going to need permanent care. It was important that he kept a sense of independence all the way through his recovery.

Cass wanted to go help Ty, go greet Holden, but his feet might as well have been nailed to the floor. What the fuck do you say to a man whose whole life changed because of you? Oh, he knew in a logical sense it wasn’t his fault. The fucking prick, Tony, had tried to kill them all. Still, if Holden had just left after gathering his evidence instead of—

“Well it’s just not the way it happened, now is it Cartwright, so get over your damned self,” he said aloud.

He moved to his desk and aligned the folders, checked through his list once more, then sat to wait for Tyler and Holden. It wasn’t long before the two men emerged and headed to the main house. Tyler was big enough to be a professional running back at just a touch over six feet and weighing in at two hundred and five pounds. Broad and hard in all the right places. Cass had to quickly shift his attention to the other man or risk meeting their guest while sporting wood.

Looking at Holden erased any thoughts of sex from his mind. The man was still good looking, with his chestnut colored skin, powerful arms, and barrel chest. But it hurt to see his big frame trapped in the wheel chair. As the two men approached they chatted easily enough. Ty casually walked alongside Holden’s chair, making no effort to help, as the other man powered his chair over the hard-packed earth. The two of them had a lot in common, both former Navy, both injured in explosions, both having to carve out new lives for themselves from the ashes of important jobs. He hoped what he had to offer would be enough. For both of them.

“Welcome, Holden. Good to see you here,” Cass said. He felt awkward and foolish. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

“Cass.” Holden gave a brisk nod and he wheeled into the study. He used his hands to brake the chair then rotated one wheel until he turned to face the rest of the room. “I appreciate you having me here.” Gesturing toward the window, he continued. “You went to a lot of trouble with the ramps. And I sure wasn’t expecting one of the casitas. I don’t need much more than a room, you know. I’ll be out of your hair—”

“Shut up, Holden,” Cass said. As soon as the words were out of this mouth a sense of relief flooded through him. He grinned at the shocked expression on Holden’s face. Suddenly he felt on steadier ground. This wasn’t about his own feelings…he needed to make Holden feel at home.

“The three of us might be new at this friends business, but I think we can manage. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. We’ve got two vacant casitas right now, and I see no reason at all you shouldn’t stay in one of them.”

Blowing out a breath, Holden gave a quick nod. “All right. Thanks. I’m not quite sure…things are just…” he trailed off, glancing toward the window.

“Hey, Holden,” Ty said, moving to sit on a couch near the wheelchair but not too close. “Don’t try to overpower what’s happening. You’ve got some healing to do and a lot to think about, but you also have some time. Okay?”

Holden nodded, looked at Ty, then over at Cass before dropping his gaze to stare at his own legs. 
“Yeah. Well…we’ll see. It’s pretty evident my career in law enforcement is over. I’m not sure what the 
fuck else I’m cut out for.”

Cass winced at the bitterness in the tone. Ty looked over and mouthed an order. “Tell him.”
There was a tightness in his chest as he realized his lover knew more about the changes in Holden’s life than anyone because of their shared similar experiences. If he wanted Cass to push at Holden a little right now, then he would.

“Maybe. Do me a favor, Holden…take a look at this.” Grabbing the folders from his desk, Cass crossed the room, and held out a folder to Holden. When the other man made no move to take it from him, Cass dropped it onto his lap, then took a seat on the couch next to Ty.

“Look at this record, tell me what you see.” He turned his back to Holden and carried on a quiet conversation with Ty. After a long pause he heard the rustle of paper and knew Holden had been unable to resist looking at the contents.

Several minutes later, Holden interrupted. “Okay, I’ve looked. What do you want to know?”

As Cass turned to face Holden, Ty gave him an encouraging wink. Ty had explained that what he’d mourned most when he was first discharged was the sense of purpose that came with knowing you belonged, that you were a part of something beyond yourself. They’d come up with something that they both hoped would help Holden’s internal cop see that he was still necessary. Ty had warned that the first reaction was likely to be anger and rejection. So Cass steeled himself for both.

“Do you think I should hire this man?” Cass asked.

Holden’s eyes narrowed, drawing his brows together in a frown line. His dark fingers tapped against the manila folder. “My first instinct is to recommend against it, but if you insisted, then I would recommend checking with the foreman at the last couple of places. I would certainly have to know more. Why? Did he apply here?”

“This was Tony’s record. I paid a fortune to a private security firm to acquire all of these records. Of course, it’s a damn sight easier to figure out you might have a homicidal maniac on your hands, after the fact.”
“Most of the information in this report would be readily accessible with a simple background check and a few calls to previous employers. Whoever you hired to do this shouldn't have needed to charge a fortune,” Holden said, obviously interested.

“That's how I figure it, too. The problem is, we don’t have access to the data, even in this day of the Internet, unless we pay for the specialized reports. For the smaller ranches that’s just too damn much money. And who the hell has time to do the searches and analyze the reports even if we did pay for them?

“I've been talking with some of the owners around the tri-state area. There are hundreds of ranch hands and itinerant workers during different times of the year in this part of Arizona, Nevada, and California. This incident with Tony wasn’t the only time one of us has been burned by hiring someone who could have been weeded out with a simple search by someone more experienced than any of us. We know cows. Or lettuce. Or horses. We want to hire you to figure this background shit out for us.” Cass was about to go on, even as he saw the heat building in Holden’s face.
He held up a hand to try to forestall the coming storm, but the slam of the front door distracted them all for a moment.

“Hope you don’t mind I let myself in,” a voice called from the front of the house. Cass closed his eyes briefly. Drew. Otherwise known as Andrew Van, the local large animal veterinarian could be heard taking off his boots and then moving toward them, a running commentary about his reason for arriving unannounced.

“Hey, Cass. Is Ty here? Did he get Holden yet?” Drew broke off as he stepped into the study. “Oh. Hey, Holden. How are…” he trailed off as Holden made a sound that could only be described as a growl.

“Bunch of busybodies. I don't want your goddamn charity, Cartwright. I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“What the hell's going on? He shouldn’t be—” Drew said. His last word was lost as Holden shouted at the young vet.

“And I suppose you’re in on all of this shit. Did you come here to gloat? You probably think I got what I deserved.” His gaze whipped back around to nail Cass to his seat. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I can make arrangements. Meanwhile, all of you leave me the fuck alone.” He wheeled his way toward the front of the house. Ty hurried after him to hold the doors, leaving Cartwright and Drew staring at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

“Well. That went well,” Cass said.

“What went well? What the hell were you thinking? He can’t be this upset, he needs time and space to heal. I thought you understood that. Tyler knows damn well—

“Enough, Drew. That was Tyler’s idea.”

“What? To pick Holden up from the hospital and then give him a heart attack?”

Cass raked his fingers through his hair trying to throttle back some of the tension of the last few minutes. “Ty said the very worst part of his recovery was loosing his place, of not belonging to something he thought he’d do his whole life. He said when he realized, really understood, that he couldn’t go back to active duty, he got so angry it nearly drove him over the edge. He suggested we give Holden some place to belong and somewhere to focus his anger.” Cass swallowed hard. “I don’t know if it was worse watching Holden or thinking about Tyler going through that alone.”

Drew stood looking out the window while they waited for Ty to return from helping Holden settle in to his new place.

The front door closed with a bang and a few seconds later Ty entered. He cast a quick glance at Drew then moved straight for his lover. Unable to find the words he wanted to say, Cass just folded Tyler against his chest and held him. 

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Saturday, May 19, 2012

Call to Action

As we approach the next presidential election, I think we can expect both the rhetoric and the physical demonstrations of homophobia to increase. Our first challenge is to be safe and to keep our friends safe.   Be vigilant and be smart.

In fiction, the underdog can get away with making a pithy remark when surrounded by bullies. In real-life? Not so much.

Does that mean I'm advocating that you walk away? Under those types of dangerous circumstances? You bet I am. There are already enough victims of hate crime, there is no sense offering yourself up as one more. There is NOTHING you can say in that moment that will change the minds of anybody there-so get someplace safe.

We are smarter than the narrow-minded bigots spewing their hate-filled messages. Smarter means we have an obligation to ourselves, to each other and to our cause.

None of us has anything to to be ashamed of regarding or sexual orientation, GLBTQS, it's all alphabet soup. We are human beings, and as such deserve a fundamental level of respect.  We are citizens of countries with supposedly enlightened governments. We have fundamental rights, and it is imperative that all citizens be guaranteed of their equality under the laws of their respective nations.

Call to Action

What can I do? What can any of us do?

1. VOTE - if you're not already registered, stop reading this blog and register right's a link to get you started> Register to Vote NOW

2. Speak up - Ever find yourself in the middle of an uncomfortable conversation? You know, coffee break central and someone makes a racist, sexist, or homophobic remark? That's the place where your quiet words or pithy remark stand a chance at making a difference. Don't answer ignorance with your own hate-filled remarks or even worse...silence. Instead, speak up. Calmly, tell the offender and everyone else within ear shot why the comment is offensive, or if you prefer no confrontation simply stand...give a long look...then walk away.

Remember, over the next six-months, stay engaged, stay calm, stay safe, and stay the course.

All of you who respond with a positive action you're willing to take to promote the rights of the GLBTQ community will be entered into a drawing for a $25 Gift Card for All Romance eBooks.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Hop Against Homophobia

Greetings, friends! It's been a busy month with not a lot to report, but I wanted to take the time to blog about this important topic. This weekend, a group of bloggers is coming together in hopes of educating people about the dangers of homophobia. I'm going to ask you to think bigger than this weekend. Think about real change, real progress to secure civil rights for all US citizens.

I believe this single topic will drive the presidential election.

I am not going to debate the merits of any political party. For me, the conversation is not about Fox versus CNN. These types of arguments are merely distractions and you will increasingly see people trying to divert the conversation from the real issue by stirring shit between the Conservatives and Liberals, Republican and Democrats, Doms and subs...wait. Okay, maybe not the last one.

My challenge to you is to consider whether you can set aside politically charged rhetoric and engage with people of all political, religious, and personal beliefs in order to focus on the single issue of gay rights.

I posted this on my Facebook page, but I believe it deserves another look. Sure, these could all be actors, and no...we don't really "Know" they're in love - yep, you guessed, I got a note from someone claiming this was all a fake for the sake of making a point.

I believe I had that covered when I pointed out that these were expressions of love and expressions of hate. What is far more terrifying is the current trend  of extremists who profess to believe in an omnipotent and loving God, and then presume to speak for him with messages of hate and exclusion.

All right, so what are we going to do? Tell me what positive action you're willing to take in the next six months that promotes the rights of the GLBTQ Community.

Post your response here on my blog this weekend in honor of the International Day Against Homophobia

All of you who respond with a positive action you're willing to take to promote the rights of the GLBTQ community will be entered into a drawing for a $25 Gift Card for All Romance eBooks.

Please visit these other bloggers and support the Hop Against Homophobia.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Big Prizes...Get Entered!

Continental Divide Facebook Fan Page

We have a fabulous prize for 3 lucky winners, but we're going to make you work for it... To enter you must do both:

1. 'Like' the page
2. Post on the page and tell us something you like about the book...if you read it, you can tell us if you have a favorite scene? Something you want to see in Oceans Apart? If you haven't...why are you looking forward to reading it?

And what's a contest without fantabulous prizes?

We have three (yup 3!) great prizes, for three winners. We'll go in order, the first name drawn selects 1st, second name drawn selects 2nd, and the third name drawn gets the final prize. Not to're going to love them.

1- Receive a T-shirt or Tote of the winner's choice from our very own Danny Johns' Teez Me Shop - shipped directly to your door.
1- Receive a $25 gift certificate from All Romance eBooks
1- You get to name a character in Oceans Apart AND receive an advanced copy (be a beta reader) at least one week before the public release date.

Okay, those are the rules, the fabulous prizes, winners to be announced on Sunday, April 21. Now, get reading and get posting!

You can also read a fabulous review of Continental Divide at A Bear on Books

Get to the page, give us a "Like" and leave a comment...we want WINNERS!

Buy Continental Divide

Monday, April 9, 2012

Winners and More Giveaways!

Congratulations to ***Midia*** - the big Easter Blog Hop winner of the Three's Allowed Series and a $10 Gift Card from All Romance eBooks. Three other winners from Sunday are Dawn M, Josie, and Catherine Lee! Congratulations to all the winners! Thanks to everyone who stopped by to leave a comment. I gave away 14 books plus the gift card - whoo, that was fun! I sure love the chance to win-hope you did, too.

Be sure to check out the other big contest I'm sponsoring right now...especially if you've ALREADY read Continental Divide! Continental Divide Facebook Fan Page

We have a fabulous prize for 3 lucky winners, but we're going to make you work for it... To enter you must do both:

1. 'Like' the page
2. Post on the page and tell us something you liked about the book...are you team Jamie or team Remy? Have a favorite scene? Something you want to see in Oceans Apart?

And what's a contest without fantabulous prizes?

We have three (yup 3!) great prizes, for three winners. We'll go in order, the first name drawn selects 1st, second name drawn selects 2nd, and the third name drawn gets the final prize. Not to're going to love them.

1- Receive a T-shirt or Tote of the winner's choice from our very own Danny Johns' Teez Me Shop - shipped directly to your door.
1- Receive a $25 gift certificate from All Romance eBooks
1- You get to name a character in Oceans Apart AND receive an advanced copy (be a beta reader) at least one week before the public release date.

Okay, those are the rules, the fabulous prizes, winners to be announced on Sunday, April 21. Now, get reading and get posting!

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Cleaning Up the Weekend (NSFW Excerpt)

It's been a nice, long Easter weekend here - lot's of Opening Day MLB action with my Diamondbacks,  giving away books on the blog, and of course, some writing, too.

I've got three more copies of Continental Divide to give away today, PLUS the grand prize of the complete set of the Three's Allowed series and $10 Gift Card. Don't forget to leave your name and email...and if you need to substitute because you already have CD...just let me know!

So what do you need to do after busy work like that? Clean, up, of course.Here's a scene that many Continental Divide readers have picked as a favorite:

The Shower Excerpt:

In the end, he’d decided he would have to take care of this himself. The last thing he needed was to get picked up for lewd and lascivious. Wouldn’t that phone call be interesting? Uh, Inspector, I could use a little help here. He snorted. Yeah, he could use a little help, all right. Maybe he’d find a club tonight and grab a twink to take to the back room. A short blond, with brown eyes and thin lips. God, anything but tall, dark, and fuck-me-stupid.

Remy stripped quickly, eyed the tub, but settled for the glass enclosed shower stall. He gathered his shampoo, soap, and the all-important lube, and after adjusting the temperature, stepped inside. He washed quickly, preferring to get business out of the way before pleasure, although this little bit of pleasure was practically going to be all-business. Christ, he didn't remember being this horny in his life. Just the thought of that shit-eating grin Jamie gave him when he'd realized they were gonna share that fuckin' bed…Or the way his green eyes glittered out from under that mop of black hair? He'd almost shot his load right there.

Once every trace of the old lady smell had been replaced by the spicy-man-soap, he leaned back against the tile and let the spray wash over him. Absently, he ran his hand over his furred chest while he conjured up the image of his future twink. Definitely had to be a blond and preferably American. There was no room for a black-haired Brit in his fantasies. He pinched a nipple, adding a twist, nice and hard, just as he liked it. He bit back a moan as his other hand drifted lower to skim lightly over the trail of hair that ran from his navel to the thick patch at the base of his cock. He reached back to tug at his balls, to slow things down a bit.

He poured some lube into his palm and with one foot propped against the opposite wall of the shower, he massaged slick over his dick and balls. He was wound too tight already. Fuck, he needed a man. He wrapped his fist around his cock and with long, slow strokes, his hand began the dance.

Eyes closed, he drew his fantasy blond to mind, nothing but a nameless tool. He pictured pushing him to his knees, imagined soft lips, a slippery tongue, deep, hard thrusts to the back of a willing throat. Then the image shifted and he was holding that eager mouth in place with fingers twisted in long strands of silky black hair as he pumped faster. A moan escaped as his balls drew up tight. With his eyes still closed, he imagined watching his lover's perfectly shaped lips stretch wide around his cock, as he opened his throat and took him all the way down. Black hair streamed back from the chiseled face as the spray from the shower left glistening drops of water running over the creamy skin. Familiar eyes looked up, as his imaginary lover swallowed around his cock and the tingle at the base of his spine seemed to suddenly shoot straight out the head of his dick.

His propped foot hit the floor in order to keep his balance and he gentled his stroke. The load he shot would have drowned a real man. With a final pulse, his body let go of the stress that had been building ever since Jamie had walked into his hotel room. Fuck. Jamie. Somewhere along the way, his fantasy had shifted to the man who even now waited in the other room. To his sultry mouth, sculpted face, and eyes that seemed to see straight through him.

With a sigh of relief that it had only been a fantasy and Jamie would never know, Remy opened his eyes and found a steamy green gaze watching him through the glass shower door. At the look of hunger on the other man’s face, Remy milked his cock with a few more stokes. Then he rinsed his hands, never looking away from the other man.

Continental Divide by Lisa Worrall and L.E. Harner

The Blurb:

Detective Remington frickin’ hates the missing persons detail, but a cold fury builds in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that over the past three months six boys have disappeared from the smaller communities that surround the greater Phoenix area. All reported to be runaways looking to escape their shitty lives, but Remy’s starting to put together a different picture and he doesn’t like it one damn bit.

Inspector Jamie Mainwaring stares at the six reports, willing them to make sense. Six boys, six months, all from just outside of London, which meant six different investigations. All of the boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, all purportedly runaways from dysfunctional families. Something was rotten in Denmark.

There are always runaways. Every small town loses them—every big city collects them. Kids look for freedom and discover they have more to lose than they ever thought possible. London and Phoenix, culture and cowboys, nothing linking these two sprawling metropolitan areas. Nothing except a hit on a computer data search.

Two cops, one a cowboy, the other a Lord. A secret government agency, human trafficking, and a blazing hot mutual distraction.

What the hell have Remington and Mainwaring gotten themselves into?

Don't forget to leave a comment for the grand prize tomorrow of the entire Three's Allowed Series PLUS a $10 Gift Card from All Romance eBooks.

Be sure and visit all the other great authors this weekend!

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Sexy Saturday Snippets: First Kisses

And Now for Something Completely Different

I thought we'd celebrate Saturday with a couple of sexy snippets from three different books and then give a couple of books away at the end of the here we go with today's rules. Read the three excerpts, and then leave me a comment with your name, email, and which book you'd like to have if your name is selected. We'll go with three winners today...

Highland Shift (Highland Destiny, Book 1)

Elena MacFarland wonders what everyone else knows about her new farm that she doesn't, and whether she'll live long enough to find out. Betrayed by her fiancé and the powerful Worthington family, Elena fights back and negotiates a comfortable settlement with one small caveat: she must live in Scotland for two years. One kidnapping and two attempts on her life later, the darkly arrogant Scot, Faolan MacGailtry declares himself her new protector and moves into her farmhouse. Major problem? He was present at all three incidents. Elena decides to follow the adage to keep her friends close and enemies closer--but which is he? One by one, Elena uncovers Faolan's darkest secrets: his Druid heritage, his connection to her past, and finally, the deadly curse that is powerful enough to destroy them both.

The Excerpt:

Elena was physically exhausted from the travel and emotionally drained from the humiliation of her story. After talking for what seemed like hours, she’d certainly told Faolan enough to make a personal connection. Would that be enough for him to let her go? Elena kept her eyes on the road, but she sensed his gaze on her. They didn’t speak again except for his terse directions once they arrived in Inverness. 

Elena tried to sort through her muddled thoughts. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten to think of him as a kidnapper. After all, he now knew more about her than anyone else in Scotland. More than anyone, anywhere, really. When she saw the Hilton right in front of them, she realized he’d seen her safely to her destination. She pulled to the curb, but Faolan stared into the rain, his expression unfathomable. 

She watched her traitorous hand as it reached up to gently touch his face, “Are you okay?” The moment Elena touched his face, a bolt of electricity shot up her arm and coursed through her body, straight to her core. Her breath caught in her throat, and her gaze lingered on his firm, luscious lips. If he kissed her she knew she’d be lost forever. At that thought, Elena’s lips parted and she unconsciously wet them with the tip of her tongue, an invitation as old as the ages. 

Faolan turned to face her, a fierce, haunted look in his eyes. Then his expression changed to something hungrier and need seemed to smolder between them. “Elena,” he whispered hoarsely. Then his mouth was on hers, and she thought no more. 

His kiss was gentle. He reached to cup her face in both of his hands, caressing her cheek with his thumbs. Her mouth parted on an exclamation of surprise, and his tongue darted past her lips as he deepened the kiss. Faolan loosened her hair, and her raven curls spilled down her back. Threading his fingers through the silken strands, his kiss turned urgent as he pulled her even closer, and the console pressed into her side.

He kissed her with such suddenness that her brain was ten steps behind her body. His tongue thrust in, then retreated, gliding in an intimate rhythm. Elena leaned toward Faolan, getting as close as possible to his broad, warm chest and moaned softly into his mouth. Her fingers splayed across his stomach, and she slid her hands over his powerful muscles that rippled under her touch. 

Elena’s body sparked to life, heedless of the circumstances that brought them together. A reckless abandon fueled her kisses. She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer. He groaned, and Elena felt the heady power of a woman who knows she’s desired. She was being devoured and had no will to stop him. His kisses claimed her, and she wanted him to keep kissing her until her last breath. 

Breathing heavily, he pulled back slightly and nibbled on Elena’s lower lip before running kisses along her jaw to her neck. With his face buried in her hair, he whispered her name once more, “Elena.” 

Then he pulled away from the embrace, opened the door, and walked away without a backward glance. Faolan disappeared into the mist as though he were nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

Rescued: Three's Allowed

Elizabeth Ashford tries to escape her wife-beating husband before he kills her, by running into the wilderness near a highway rest area. Michael Enwright is a self-made millionaire and expert in high tech security. At the first rest stop of his long overdue sabbatical, he sees the fleeing woman and intervenes, saving Elizabeth’s life, while nearly losing his own.

When Michael’s help is misinterpreted, he ends up handcuffed and face down in the dirt before Elizabeth can set Sheriff Graeme Kennedy, her former lover, straight. In order to protect Lizzie, Graeme is forced to work with Michael and brings both of them to his cabin for protection.

Now Graeme finally has Elizabeth under his roof, right where he’s always wanted her. So why is he jacking off to visions of the drop dead gorgeous and take-charge Michael? Some things never change.

The Excerpt:

Graeme looked at him with his big dark eyes and Michael found himself staring into them, getting lost for the longest of minutes. With a jerk he broke the eye contact and turned his head away. 

Strong fingers grabbed his arm. “Don’t turn away from me, Michael. Please.” 

That one word stopped him, and he turned back to face Graeme. “What do you want from me, Graeme?” he said, his voice a harsh whisper in the night. 

Graeme stood, cupped his face, then tilted it up slightly, as if he were memorizing every feature. Then he slowly lowered his mouth. 

Michael knew this would be no mere brush of the lips. He should pull away. This wasn’t him; he didn’t kiss men. If he let this happen it would change who he thought he was. He needed to stop it. God help him, he needed it. 

He raised his mouth and met Graeme’s kiss, lips closed, and eyes wide open. 

Graeme’s eyes closed, and he hummed faintly in a sigh. Michael started to pull back, but Graeme kept his face cradled and rubbed his lips gently, and the kiss spun out. Firm lips giving gentle kisses and the scratch of beard where there’d never been roughness before. 

Michael had a moment of clarity, and he wondered what in the hell he was doing. Then Graeme pulled back, ran a tongue over Michael’s lips. 

“Open for me, Michael,” he said, breath a whisper against his mouth. 

As if compelled, Michael’s mouth relaxed, and Graeme thrust his tongue inside. Their tongues met in a clash of wills, hungry to taste each other. Michael could taste Elizabeth there as well. His mind felt far away, no room for thought, only room for feeling, only room for this kiss. Graeme’s arms wound around his waist, and slid up his back, to wind into his hair. 

A groan of desire rent the night, Graeme’s or his own, he no longer knew. He sucked on Graeme’s tongue, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Graeme plundered, seeking, giving. Finally, Graeme pulled back and, with a small moan in the back of his throat, he began to nibble and nip at Michael’s lips.

Christ! He pushed away from Graeme, breathing hard, unsure where to look. He’d felt the telltale wetness on his stomach from one of their cocks and realized he’d been pressed intimately against Graeme. The thoughts swirled in his mind, a confused tangle, with no beginning, no end. I’m naked, I kissed him, I’m fucking hard as stone. 

Ty Hard (Willow Spring Ranch, Book 1)

Tyler has used Don't Ask, Don't Tell as a shield against the truth since he was seventeen. Now, Ty finds himself cut loose from his Navy career after months of rehab from a debilitating head injury. At a loss as to what to do with his life, he travels to Willow Springs Ranch in Arizona to visit his surrogate father, only to arrive minutes after his oldest friend's death. Ty must come to terms with the loss while he fights to keep the PTSD from pulling him under. The last thing he's ready to think about is his growing attraction for another man.

Rancher Cass Cartwright's relationships never last more than a few hours, and that's just the way he likes it. Now he's in danger of doing the one thing he swore never to do: fall in love. Can Cass convince Ty to let go of his past or will sabotage at the ranch kill their love before it has a chance to grow?

The Excerpt:

Ty had found his bag near the bedroom door and dressed in the dark, moving quietly while taking inventory of how he felt. He’d been so sick yesterday afternoon, he knew there was no way they’d had sex, but why was the cowboy in bed with him? He’d watched the handsome face for a long minute and fisted his hands against an urge to stroke Cass’ strong brow, so relaxed in sleep. What would it be like to wake every morning in the arms of a man you loved? 

“Feeling better?” The deep voice slammed into him, startling Ty from his thoughts and making him jump. He turned from the pile of sliced mushrooms and lost his breath in a woosh. 

Cass stood in the arched doorway, wearing only a pair of faded jeans that fit like a second skin. He was all long, wiry muscle, classic washboard abs, and a trail of dark brown hair that led straight to the single open button at the waistband of his jeans. 

“Uhm, yeah,” Ty managed and then tore his gaze away from the feast in front of him. “Thanks for uhm…everything.” 

“Hmm…What are you doing?” Cass asked sleepily. 

“Making breakfast. I figured what with Gibby…” his voice trailed off, and tears filled his eyes. He turned back to the cutting board so Cass wouldn’t see his weakness. 

“It’s okay to cry, Tyler. I’m going to miss him, too,” Cass said, then strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind. 

Ty stiffened. Damn, what was wrong with him? Cass was just trying to be nice and offer comfort in their shared grief. To his shame, he felt his dick harden. There wasn’t much room to maneuver away, since he was already standing close to the counter. He took half a step forward, to try to put a little space between them. 

Cass moved with him, pulling him even closer, and he could feel the press of all that bare skin through the thin layer of his tee shirt. They stood that way for several long heartbeats and Tyler closed his eyes and imagined taking the comfort of that embrace to another level. Something gentle brushed across his hair and he allowed himself the fantasy of accepting a lover’s comfort. 

With his eyes closed, savoring the moment, he almost didn’t realize the strong fingers that tilted his head to the side were real. Then lips brushed lightly against his neck, his cheek, and finally, soft as a whisper, against his lips. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ty said angrily and pushed himself away from Cass. 

Stepping back, Cass looked at him appraisingly for a minute. Then he licked his lips and with a slow, wicked smile, he said, “Tasting you.” 

“Well, stop it,” Ty said, but there was no heat behind his words. 

“My mistake,” Cass grinned, not looking the least bit sorry.

There you have it... 3 very different first kisses.

This isn't a vote, although feel free to share your favorite kiss among these or any other first kiss you'd like to share :)

Be sure to leave your name,  email, and which book you'd like if you're one of the  winners. 

Want to buy one now? Visit my page at Amazon: Laura Harner Store

Don't forget to leave a comment for the grand prize tomorrow of the entire Three's Allowed Series PLUS a $10 Gift Card from All Romance eBooks.

Be sure and visit all the other great authors this weekend!

Friday, April 6, 2012

Easter Blog Hop and Prizes!!

Welcome to the Easter Weekend and the giant Easter Blog Hop Giveaway!

I love having family and friends gather for a holiday meal or s special event. And look! Here you are, gathering at my place for the holiday weekend.

This weekend, hundreds of prizes are available through the Blog Hop...and not just the prizes listed on the main page. Many of the authors have additional give-aways and daily prizes.

Make sure to leave a comment to enter the giveaway here at Penis Envy. What's the big prize on my site you ask? Four books plus a $10 Gift Card for All Romance eBooks!

That's right, the entire Three's Allowed Series: Whiteout, Rescued, Salvation and next month's new release, Redemption.

Extra prize, just for today!

Today, as an additional incentive...I'm giving away a copy of Continental Divide, the best-selling new release from Lisa Worrall and LE Harner (HEY-that's me!) All you have to do to enter is leave a comment for your chance to win. (Yes, you may substitute a different book, if you already have CD). 

The Blurb:

Detective Remington frickin’ hates the missing persons detail, but a cold fury builds in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that over the past three months six boys have disappeared from the smaller communities that surround the greater Phoenix area. All reported to be runaways looking to escape their shitty lives, but Remy’s starting to put together a different picture and he doesn’t like it one damn bit.

Inspector Jamie Mainwaring stares at the six reports, willing them to make sense. Six boys, six months, all from just outside of London, which meant six different investigations. All of the boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, all purportedly runaways from dysfunctional families. Something was rotten in Denmark.

There are always runaways. Every small town loses them—every big city collects them. Kids look for freedom and discover they have more to lose than they ever thought possible. London and Phoenix, culture and cowboys, nothing linking these two sprawling metropolitan areas. Nothing except a hit on a computer data search.

Two cops, one a cowboy, the other a Lord. A secret government agency, human trafficking, and a blazing hot mutual distraction.

What the hell have Remington and Mainwaring gotten themselves into?

Excerpt from Chapter Two

Remy gave the mirror a swipe with the spare towel and took a good look. Running a comb through his freshly cut brown hair, he thought briefly about searching for stray grays mixed in with the brown, then gave himself a snort. What the fuck did he care if he had a gray hair or two? At thirty-seven and in his line of work, he was lucky to still be alive. He turned his side to the mirror to catch sight of the latest scar, a long pink pucker that creased his left side. Seven months ago, a bullet had nearly cost him a kidney and was the reason Oswald had been able to get away with reassigning him to Missing Persons. It was just one scar of many, and he knew it would fade with time.

He rubbed his jaw and decided one more day of growth wasn’t going to make a difference. The tired eyes would be enough to scare any sane person away, and it wasn’t as if he was here to impress anyone. Hell, the only thing he wanted to impress was a hot mouth on the other side of a glory hole. And it had better be soon because it had been a while since he’d taken even that release. He blew out a breath and wondered if he had time for a little stress relief. A quick look at the counter revealed lavender-scented hand lotion to match the soap. With a defeated sigh, he made a mental note to pick up lube and condoms later.

The tap on the door reminded him he was here for a reason. Without hesitation, Remy grabbed his gun from its spot on top of the bureau, and moved to stand just to the side of the door. A quick peek through the small hole gave him a fish-eye view of a dark sleeve and a hand holding an identification card. Remy opened the door with a quick jerk and used his gun to gesture the other man inside.

“Let me see it.” He held out his hand for the credentials. With one hand on his weapon and the other reaching for the small leather folder, Remy was fully aware that left him with no hands to hold up his towel. Some things couldn’t be helped.

* * *
“Who the hell are you?” Jamie asked incredulously, not expecting to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Regardless of the gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it. Rephrase that, the naked gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it, as the man's loosely secured towel slipped to the floor. His gaze traveled slowly over the man’s ruggedly handsome face and down the muscled planes of his torso. Pausing longer than was perhaps polite on the long thick length of the man’s cock laying heavy against his thigh, he tried not to lick his lips as he continued down the muscled legs to the bare feet poking from beneath the dropped towel on the floor. Maybe a little homespun and unrefined for Jamie's tastes, but undeniably gorgeous all the same. “Well, I feel slightly over-dressed,” he drawled sarcastically. “If I'd known it was going to be a slumber party, I'd have packed my jammies."

“James Manwearing?” Remy questioned glancing from the ID to Jamie and back again.

Suddenly the man-flesh looked less edible as eyebrows rose high under the shaggy brown hair falling in deep brown eyes. Jamie grabbed his black wallet from the stranger’s fingers and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “It’s pronounced Mannering,” he snapped. “I’d ask to see your badge, but I don't think you can show me anything I haven't already seen.”

Jamie strode across the room to pull back the flimsy curtain and peer out into the street. Good God, what a dump! He had no idea dives such as this one even still existed in a city as affluent as London. What had good-looking done to deserve this? More to the point, what had he done to deserve this?

One minute he’s sitting at his desk, going over the latest reports with one of his team and the next he’s being dragged into the Chief Inspector’s office and told to clear his calendar and report to this address. There had been no explanation, just the steely glare of his superior and a sticky-note slapped into his palm. Jamie had worked for the man long enough to know that all he could do was follow orders and hope there was an explanation waiting for him when he arrived.

What he hadn’t been expecting was a naked man-mountain to open the door and stick a gun in his face. Turning to the man who, thankfully, had shoved some jeans and a shirt on, Jamie put his hands on his hips. “Okay, who are you and what the hell am I doing here?”

“Name’s Remington and I was gonna ask you the same thing, Detective Man-wearing.”

Can't wait? Here's the buy links: 

Don't forget to leave a comment and visit all the other great authors this weekend!