Quirks and Kinks by Laurel Ulen Curtis

“Its a new show, Quirks and Kinks. Weve already selected a male reenactment actor to be your co-host, so you're the last piece of the puzzle. Theres some seriously f@$%ed up sh*t out there that people are into, and the two of you are going to be the face of it.”

“Im going to be the face of peoples freakish fetishes?” I asked disbelievingly.

Larry shrugged his nonchalance, shoving it directly down the throat of my panic. “Half of it.”

That conversation was the beginning of more than a show.
It was the beginning of mystery, friendship, and love, and the outcome of mixing all three together with two unsuspecting victims.

Easie Reynolds and Anderson Evans were drawn to the same, simple thing—each other.

But, sometimes, undeniable chemistry isn’t enough. After all, how easy is it to get know someone when they’re constantly pretending to be someone else?



Im still not even sure what were doing here, I told Ashley as I glanced around at the cheap Tex Mex themed decor of El Loco Restaurant.
All around us, business-suit-clad, young singles chatted and laughed, sinking deeper into their margaritas and each other. A life untraveled stared me in the face, but it didnt make me feel bitter or regretful. All I felt was stupid for being out and spending money that we didnt have.
You just landed a job, she cooed before sipping delicately from the free water.
Giving her my undivided attention, I narrowed my cat-like blue eyes.
Granted, its not a job youre exactly thrilled about, but it comes with money, and thats worth celebrating a little.
Pff, I huffed. So far, all its come with is a bag of muffin mix and humiliation. Exaggeratedly, I checked my purse. Nope, no money.
Ashley just shook her head. Were eating one dollar tacos. Peanut butter and bread are more expensive. Relax.
My fingers itched for a cigarette, and astute twenty-three year old lady that she was, Ashley didnt miss it.
Besides, if were going to get on the money discussion youre going to have to take a closer look at some of your other expensive habits.
Ashley had been trying to talk me into quitting for years, and I knew my lungs would thank me if I somehow managed to follow through. But for as desirable as it sounded, I justcouldnt. It wasnt so much the addiction and the work it would take to kick a years-in-the-making habit. It was that smoking had become my emotional crutch. My timeout in any moment of need and my excuse to busy myself with something other than being a bitch. I was scared of the chasm Id fall into, the unclimbable hill Id create with my auger-like anxiety.
My sister didnt know any of that. No one did.
I smoke for my career.
Her eyes practically rolled all the way out of her head. This ought to be good.
You know this industry is unbelievably vapid, and vapid means skinny. Smoking keeps me that way.
She shook her head in disdain.
And its cheaper than a gym membership.
Global warming, anyone? she called dramatically. Youre argument is balancing on some pretty thin ice.
Shut up.
Suddenly, warmth wafted up into my face as our waiter shoved the toasty basket of complimentary chips into the center of our table. My eyes drifted naturally from the basket to the hand holding it, where a large, oval, heavy metal ring sat in blazing contrast to the tan expanse of his long ring finger, up the line of his musculardeliciously veinyforearm, to the cuff of his rolled up black sleeve. On a runaway mission of their own, my eyes wouldnt stop, eating up the expanse of his bicep in an instant, stutter-stepping up the corded column of his slender throat, and landing on one of the most attractive male mugs Ive ever seen.
A mixing bowl of ethnicity, his naturally tanned skin and dark features stood in stark contrast with the minty green of his eyes. Directly on me and smirking, they were mesmerizing.
And mocking.
Ashley spoke, as Id apparently lost all of my normal snarky ability.
A small glance from me to her preceded his polite answer. Youre welcome.
She smiled her prettiest smile, the one that infused her entire being from chest to eyes, and the corner of his mouth notched higher in response.
A foreign heaviness settled in my chest as I watched, and its completely unwelcome presence nearly made me sick.
He turned to leave slowly, one last lingering look in my direction making my nerves ratchet up to an eleven.
Fuck. I did not like to be rattled. Confident words were my modus operandi, but a good earthquake could wreck even the strongest of routines. My table at El Loco, tonightthis guywas the epicenter.
The man in question had just earned himself automatic placement on my shit list.
Straight, white, top teeth just barely teased the plump pillow of his bottom lip. It was unintentional, completely innocent, and hot as Jesus sauna.
Shit list position confirmed.
Youre, like, really attractive, Ashley noted, evidently drunk on her water and speaking via a direct link to my brain.
His chuckle was like a full body vibrator, skating through the nerves on every inch of my skin. One long-fingered hand shot straight to his neck, rubbing the uneasiness of Ashleys compliment out quickly.
Are you an actor? she continued. Youve got to be, right?
LA. Every attractive person you meet must be in the business.
I would have laughed at Ashleys assumption and how ridiculous it was if I hadnt been thinking the same thing.
He looked slightly bashful, but fought straight through the discomfort and answered her frankly. Uh, yeah. I mean, Im trying anyway. Im not particularly successful.
Distracted by my reaction to him and his honesty, I didnt run a pre-check on anything coming out of my mouth. Not that I normally had the best filter. So youre another one of those actors, waiting tables to pay the bills and pass the time?
He bristled, and rightfully so. But he did it with an otherworldly calm, meeting my eyes directly and speaking in a soft, politeif only slightly teasingvoice.
One of those? Oh. No. Waiting tables is my dream. I just act to fit in.
My cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and shame, and the glint in his eyes told me that he saw it.
Sometimes I hated that my default setting was bitch. Such a dominant trait was hard to overturn. Okay, so maybe that was a little rude.
One corner of his mouththe smug onerose just slightly. Its a distinct possibility.
Silence hung between us, but while my time was spent avoiding eye contact, his was spent calculating his next blow.
I guess you must be something really impressive then?
Huh? My wandering eyes shot to his with the focus of a heat-seeking missile.
Well, you obviously arent on the waiting tables slash acting track that the rest of us losers are.
I mean, you must do something that really matters, right? Educating orphaned kids. Curing Cancer. Coming up with the way to end all of the worlds unrest. Attractive arms crossed over an equally nice chest. Am I right?
For as confident as I usually was, and as many comebacks as I normally had, I couldnt think of one single thing to say.
Unfortunately, my sister wasnt suffering from a similar problem.
Hah! Shes an actor too. But shes too busy to wait tables.
Working? he asked, one manly eyebrow cocking in time with his question. If I wasnt mistaken, he actually looked impressed for a minute.
I was ready to leave right then, but Ashley, being the one of us with a conscience, had a knack for ruining a good thing.
Oh. No. Shes just too busy being her. You know, cutting people like you down in her spare time. She looked away, bopped to the music in the background. But, she doesnt do it on purpose. She was born this way. Cold, dead heart and all. I guess thats why people like me still love her.
I tried not to let her words hurt. After all, if I were describing myself, I probably would have chosen the exact same words, and because I knew her so well, I knew she was just trying to make a joke and bail me out of a situation of my own making.
And yet, I still couldnt stop the smile from slipping and sliding its way off of my face.
It only took a few seconds to recover, but when I looked back up at the waiter, he was looking at me differently. Assessing.
Uncomfortable was too cushy a word for what I was feeling. Bombs exploded and sprayed shrapnel, the sharp edges of his scrutiny digging into the flesh of my muscle and making it twitch just beneath the not-protective-enough layer of my skin.

About Laurel Ulen Curtis

Laurel Ulen Curtis is a 27 year old mother of one. She lives with her husband and son (and cat and two fish!) in New Jersey, but grew up all over the United States. She graduated from Rutgers University in 2009 with a Bachelor of Science in Meteorology, and puts that to almost no use other than forecasting for her friends! She has a passion for her family, laughing, and reading and writing Romance novels.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6912103.Laurel_Ulen_Curtis?from_search=true

Dissident by Cecilia London


Publication Date: 17 March 2015 
Tour: Dissident by Cecilia London

She once was important. Now she’s considered dangerous.
In a new America where almost no one can be trusted, Caroline lies unconscious in a government hospital as others decide her fate. She is a political dissident, wanted for questioning by a brutal regime that has come to power in a shockingly easy way. As she recovers from her injuries, all she has are her memories. And once she wakes up, they may not matter anymore. Dissident is a blend of romantic suspense, contemporary romance, political thriller, and speculative fiction. Told mostly in flashback, it details the budding romantic relationship between our heroine, Caroline, and Jack, the silver fox playboy who tries to win her heart. Part One of a Six Part Series. Each part is a full length novel between 60,000-120,000 words and ends in a cliffhanger. For readers 18+. This saga contains adult situations, including non-gratuitous violence, explicit (consensual) sex, psychological and physical trauma, and an oftentimes dark and gritty plot (particularly in part two).


Caroline set up a playlist on her iPod speaker system and Jack started to teach her a few basic moves. After several songs, he even managed to get her to do a small lift.  She had the jitterbug, Lindy Hop, East Coast Swing, and foxtrot down in a couple of hours.
“You catch on fast,” he said. “Incredibly fast.”
“I don’t know how I’m doing it.”
“Let’s try something with a little quicker pace,” he suggested. “See how you do with that.”
Caroline put “Sing Sing Sing” on the stereo and they started to dance. A minute or two in, she realized that she’d forgotten it was an almost five minute song.  By the end of the dance she was winded. As the music stopped she doubled over, trying to catch her breath.
“You’re killing me, McIntyre.” She looked up at him. He had barely broken a sweat.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe you do need to get to the House gym more.”
“Jackass,” she panted. “If I weren’t so tired I’d punch you.”
“That would be quite improper behavior coming from the nicest person in Congress.” Jack pulled her to a standing position. “How about a classic waltz instead? It’s less jumping around.”
“Okay,” Caroline said. “Just give me a second.”
They cranked out a few more slow dances, and she was again amazed at how quickly she’d caught on. They were twirling across the basement floor to a waltz by Dvorak. Caroline felt as if she was floating on air. Jack’s hands were secure and confident, but gentle. He guided her from move to move, and she realized she didn’t want the dance to end. But soon it was over, right after she’d twirled out of his arms and started laughing.
She clapped her hands, spun around, and turned to him, breathless. She tossed her head back and laughed again, amazed at how she’d managed not to trip over herself yet again.
“This is fun,” she said.
Jack smiled at her. “You really are quite good for a beginner.”
She tried not to blush. “I have a good teacher.”
The next song came on. Caroline recognized it immediately. “The Way You Look Tonight.” She’d forgotten that she added it to the playlist. One of her favorites.
She closed her eyes. “Oh, I love Tony Bennett’s version of this song.”
“Well then, my lady, let’s take this one a little slower.” He reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him.  She put her arms around his neck and leaned in. His cologne smelled so good. They started to dance.
“You’re lovely,” Jack murmured into her ear.
Was that directed at her, or was he mimicking the lyrics?
He was holding her closer than she thought was necessary for a dance between friends, but she wasn’t about to complain. They moved slowly but they’d been practicing all night and were starting to fatigue. Caroline leaned into his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world, not realizing that they had almost completely stopped dancing.
“Caroline?” She heard Jack’s sweet voice again. “I’m not sure we’re dancing anymore.”
“Does it matter?” She lifted her head up.
Jack looked into her eyes. “Not unless it matters to you.”
He slowly brought his lips to hers. She didn’t turn away this time but closed her eyes and waited. It was sweet, kind, tender…and definitely not platonic. And it felt incredibly good, the pleasure wafting over her. She’d forgotten what it was like to be kissed, really kissed. She didn’t want him to stop. Jack cupped her cheek in his palm and pulled her closer to him with his other hand. Caroline brought her hands up to his hair and held them there, not wanting it to end.
She had been wondering what it would be like to run her hands through those gorgeous, perfect silver locks. His hair was soft, and she traced her fingers through it as Jack teased her tongue with his. She wanted to tug at it, bring him even closer to her, but then saw Nicky’s face in her mind and pulled away.
Caroline covered her mouth with her hand. “What was that for?”
Jack withdrew his hand from her waist. He seemed to be confused. “I-”  
“It was the music,” she stammered. “We - it’s a romantic song. It’s hard not to get sucked into it. It’s fine.”
She thought Jack looked a little unnerved, but he recovered quickly. “Sure. Just a little kiss between friends. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Right.” Caroline kissed him on the cheek. “See? Nothing whatsoever.”
“Yeah.” Jack looked at his watch. “It’s late. I’d better head home. I have to get up pretty early tomorrow.”
“Not a problem.” She exhaled, grateful for the escape. “Thanks for the dance lessons.”
“Anytime,” Jack said. “I mean that.”
“I know.”
“See you on Tuesday?” he asked. “Lunch, maybe?”
“You bet.”
She turned off the music and escorted Jack up the stairs, watching him through the window as he started his Cadillac and drove away. It was nothing, that kiss.  That song, the entire night…they’d gotten too caught up in the entire thing. Dancing could be an extraordinarily sensuous experience between two people who knew what they were doing, and Jack was an excellent instructor. It was only natural that she felt such incredible physical chemistry with him. That was it. Nothing more.
But Caroline was still trying to avoid the thought running through her mind – her increasing desire for him to turn his car around, run through her front door, and take her in his arms again.

About Cecilia London

Cecilia is my pen name. I may or may not live in San Antonio, Texas. I've been known to apply quotes from 'The Simpsons' to everyday life. I live for baseball season.

A Happy Fourth Indeed! Gay For Pay by TM Smith

Gay for Pay

An All Cocks story

Christopher Allan Roberts thought he had a promising future; Captain of the football team with the promise of a scholarship to play for Alabama. His high school sweetheart and best friend for as long as he could remember, Amanda, by his side, and the love and support of his family. One night, one mistake changed everything. Chris moves to New York, adrift and alone. A walk one night brings him to the flashing lights, loud music and thrumming bodies at club Berlin. A flyer in the men’s room promises fame and fortune for anyone willing to go on camera and have sex, with another man. Money is money, and how hard could it be, right?

Christopher Allan Roberts becomes Kris Alen, All Cocks newest addition, a gay for pay porn star. 

Lincoln Carter is honest with everyone in his life, including his family, about who he is and about his sexual preferences. Linc Larson, the openly bi-sexual gay porn star will do anything with anyone, which pretty much writes his ticket in a versatility charged industry. It’s not his sexuality that interferes with his personal life; it’s his inability to trust. 

What Linc wants right now, more than anything, is the chance to do a scene with All Cocks newest acquisition, Kris Alen. Six foot two with Auburn hair, an exquisitely toned and inked up body, Kris Alen is sex personified. Linc doesn’t know if it’s the “I want the shiny new toy” aspect that calls to him, or the distant and wounded expression that haunts Kris’s eyes. 

Linc figures out early on that Kris is only working the gay for pay angle that All Cocks brings to his bank account. Can a bi-sexual man with trust issues break down the barriers that Kris has built around himself and help Christopher overcome the painful past he is running from. 

Gay for Pay is a gay for you story about two men that will have to come to terms with the mistakes they made in their past, if they want to stick around and have a chance at a future. 



Chris took a few minutes to gather his thoughts, taking in his surroundings, what he was about to do finally sinking in. Reminding himself that there were only three people in the world that really cared about him, relaxed him. Where some models might worry about what their families and friends would think of their decision to do this type of work, Chris didn’t have that concern. 
He noticed his backpack sitting at the base of the camera that was at the foot of the bed, Mattie was a saint! He pulled out his I-pod and went over to the bed, sitting and plugging it in, quickly finding his jazz playlist. The music always relaxed him and soon the seedy notes of the saxophone filled the empty space. Chris lay back on the bed, closing his eyes and taking a few minutes to think about how he wanted to do this. 
He sat up and opened the drawer Andrew mentioned, laughing out loud when he saw an item similar to the one he and Jordan had ordered last night. He decided against stripping down, thinking it might be sexier to anyone watching if he kept part of himself hidden, slowly revealing a little over time as the video progressed. Fleshjack and lube in hand, Chris positioned himself with his back against the headboard. Exhaling, he thought, “Well, here goes nothing!” 

Author bio:

A military brat born and raised at Ft. Benning Georgia; Smith is an avid reader, reviewer and writer. She now calls Texas home from her small town on the outskirts of the DFW Metroplex. Most days you can find her curled up with her kindle and a good book alongside a glass of something aged and red or a steaming cup of coffee!

At 42 years young, she's decided to enter the next phase of her life by adding the title of "author" to her list of accomplishments that includes single mom of three disturbingly outspoken and decidedly different kids, one of which is Autistic. Smith is and outspoken advocate for Autism and equal rights for the LGBTQ community.

Her Opposites series is based outside the normal parameters of social acceptability, examining a 'what if'... What If to be gay or lesbian were the norm? What if to be straight labeled you as an Opposite and made YOU the Outkast?

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