If you're under 18, then go on and git.

Friday, May 29, 2015

And The Stars Danced Ch. 2

Copyright 2015
Bailey Bradford

Chapter Two

The pounding in his head woke Elliot up. It felt like his brain was swelling and on the verge of exploding. Elliot whimpered and started to cradle his head—
Only to find that he couldn’t move his arms. Heart racing, he curled his fingers, and once assured those worked, he concentrated on the rest of his body. There wasn’t a sound to be heard other than his own breathing, and the thrumming of his pulse in his ears.
Elliot still didn’t trust that he was alone, or he wasn’t being watched somehow. Cameras, at the very least. He’d had too many dreams of abduction, and of other, scary things, to not realize he what had happened.
Someone had taken him, and now he was strapped down, wrists, upper arms, ankles, calves, thighs—two bands went across his chest and right above his groin. He’d be lucky if he could even wiggle.
But who had taken him? And why? Elliot remembered the man with the creepy eyes. There’d been such a lack of emotion in them. As much as he’d like to say it was an inhuman look, he didn’t, because he knew, from his years in psychiatric hospitals and under the care of ‘specialists’, just how inhumane humans could be.
It made him wonder if, whatever life forms existed outside of his world, they weren’t at least kinder than his own species.
Elliot listened for several minutes, keeping his breathing slow and steady. He’d learned long ago how to mimic sleep patterns, and could fool most people even when he was hooked up to machines that registered and recorded his sleep.
Again, he heard nothing but his own sounds, not even the hiss of air conditioning flowing through vents, nor the beeps and burrs of machines, medical or otherwise.
What the hell happened to me? No, he knew that part. The cold-eyed man had abducted him. But why?
Elliot waited, and waited, then he began to count the minutes off in his head. After an hour, he was still alone. He was so thirsty he started coughing, which in turn made his head hurt more.
And still no one came. Gradually, Elliot opened his eyes just a slit. Everything was blurry for a moment, then he saw the camera directly in front of him. Fear spiraled through him, even as a sense of resignation hit. He’d always known he was going to finally lose his mind. This had to be some colossal hallucination, because there was no reason for anyone to take him. Unless it’d been under orders from Dr. DelVecchio, and Elliot was in a psych ward.
Though, he’d never been in a place with a camera like the one he now saw.
Tired of it all, the worry, the fear, the pain and judgment, Elliot opened both eyes. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted it over with. He stared right at the camera. “Well? What are you waiting for?” he demanded.
It took several minutes, but eventually, he heard a sound to his left. Elliot turned his head, grateful it, too, wasn’t strapped in place, and saw a door slide open into the wall. A white-coated woman walked in, glasses on, red hair slicked back into a bun. She was very tall and imposing, with eyes as creepy as the man who’d taken him.
She had the same flat expression, as if her emotions had long since ceased functioning.
Elliot’s blood ran cold as she stopped and stared down at him.
After several long moments of silence, he couldn’t take it any longer. “Why am I here?”
The woman didn’t answer. She tapped out something on her tablet, then set it down. She pushed up Elliot’s left eyelid and shined a penlight in his eye.
Elliot’s stomach roiled as his pain intensified.
The right eye was next, then she proceeded to look in his nose, ears, and mouth.
Elliot didn’t even try to refrain from coughing when she was doing that last task.
It didn’t faze her. She merely gripped his jaw and pressed on one side of it, forcing him to keep his mouth open. She watched dispassionately as he coughed, as if he were a bug in a jar.
She released him then used a stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs. At that point, he was fairly certain she was human, at least. Surely aliens would have more advanced medical tools.
“Can I—can I have some water?” Elliot rasped as she palpitated his abdomen. “Please?”
She cocked her head and felt his throat, her fingers icy cold.
“I need a drink,” he said. “I--“
The door opened again, having closed behind his examiner after she entered. This time, it was the same man who’d kidnapped him. At least, Elliot thought it was. For all he knew, there was an army of emotionless drones—
Images flashed through his mind, bits and pieces of things he’d seen in dreams and nightmares. None of it had made sense, but he knew with a certainty, he’d seen eyes like those, that expressionless beings had haunted him before.
But had it been in nightmares, or in reality? Elliot squeezed his eyes shut. Something prodded at his lips. He parted them, recognizing the familiar sensation of a straw, and he drank deeply, deciding it didn’t much matter if the water contained drugs or worse. He wasn’t in any situation to fight back, and dying of thirst would be a horrible way to go.
Finally, a third person joined them, and this one, an older man with thick white hair and—thankfully—brown eyes. He was wearing a white lab coat just as the other two were, but his expression wasn’t flat. In fact, he looked intently at Elliot, as if he were a person, not a thing, then sent the other two people away.
“I’m Dr. Morgan. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here,” he began. “I’m afraid that’s an answer you won’t be given, at least not yet.”
“Where’s here?” Elliot asked.
Dr. Morgan clicked his tongue. “Another question that should have remained unspoken. However.” He arched his brows at Elliot. “I suppose there’s really no harm in answering. You will never leave this facility alive, and therefore will not be sharing the information with anyone. Your full-body scan showed you to be free of any tracking devices, monitors, or anything else that could lead anyone to your location.”
Elliot raised his head up enough to see that he was wearing a hospital gown. For a moment, he’d worried that he was nude and hadn’t noticed. Trusting yourself was difficult when you thought you were losing it.
“You haven’t been molested, I assure you,” Dr. Morgan said. “There will be some examinations that will be very uncomfortable, but they are necessary.”
“Necessary? Why? For whom? And you didn’t tell me where I am.” Elliot frowned. Maybe he shouldn’t poke at Morgan, but he couldn’t help it. Fear didn’t always make him wise.
Dr. Morgan smiled at him then. “Elliot, you poor boy. All these years, you and everyone who knows you have believed you to be mentally ill. You dream of stars moving and turning into something else, you see things, hear things, think things that others do not. You dream—“ He bent until he was nearly nose to nose with Elliot. “Of aliens.”
Elliot didn’t deny it. Whoever Morgan was, he clearly had access to Elliot’s medical records.
Morgan stood up straight again. “No one believes you, not even yourself, but that’s because your whole life has been a lie.”

He swept one arm around in an exaggerated manner. “Welcome, dear boy, to where you belong. You are now a guest at Area 51.” This time, his smile sent a shiver down Elliot’s spine. “It’s where we bring all the aliens once we’ve captured them.”

Head's Up For Some Fun!

Hey y'all, stop in at MA Church's blog for a fun scavenger hunt! It already started, but, you know, still, go have fun!

Fun fUn fuN FUN FUN

Okay, I'm going to post the link to Peyton's GoFundMe again, please share and donate if you can. Cherri just told me that his appendix is inflamed, so that might have to come out. They were at St. Jude's for CAT Scans and some other tests to check the mass-- which is smaller, YAY!-- and found out his appendix is giving him a fit. One more trial for them, but they'll get through this. Thank y'all.

Peyton's Medical Fund

I'm getting started on the installment now. Should be up in a couple of hours.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

A Peek at MG 7 ****NSFW****

Okay, I've been writing all day, but didn't want to skip a post! Here's a peek at Hay and Heartbreak, MG 7, featuring Duke's brother Dan, and a tornado named Hector, who may have had a line or two in the last book. This excerpt is before Dan meets Hector, when Dan's still trying to figure out how to adjust to life on the outside. Oh, and it's ***NSFW*** I should go put that on the title of this post.

Copyright 2015
Bailey Bradford

Chapter Two

The bar seemed like a safe enough place to go. Dan wasn’t looking for anything illegal, just a beer to wash down a days’ worth of nerves. He’d managed two interviews—to a newspaper and some magazine he’d never heard of—and that was all Rick had asked of him. Rick, unlike Edward, wasn’t pushy and would have understood if Dan hadn’t been able to do any interviews. That understanding was the only reason Dan had agreed to help. His gut cramped when he thought about the pictures that would be published with the articles. His scarred face was going to be used to drone up dollars and sympathy for other wrongfully incarcerated people.
“At least something good’ll come of it,” he muttered as he opened the door to the Sandstone Bar. It was dark inside, the lighting dim. He had the thought that it was a sign and he ought to leave, yet Dan’s feet didn’t get the memo. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the change, then he made his way over to one of the numerous empty barstools.
“What’ll you have?” asked the bartender as she polished a glass. She quirked a brow at him. “You do know this is a gay bar?”
Dan shrugged. “So? You still got beer, doncha? A Bud Light?”
She snorted. “Well, if you call that beer…”
In all honesty, Dan didn’t know what kind of beer he liked. He’d been a kid when he’d ended up in prison. He didn’t remember the taste of alcohol, just that he’d drunk whatever he’d been handed.
But he liked the Bud Light commercials he’d seen. He wouldn’t dare tell the bartender that was why he’d ordered it.
“Hey Mary, put the game on,” someone hollered from a table behind Dan. “I wanna see if I’m gonna lose my bet!”
Mary must have been the name of the bartender since she yelled back, “Hold your damn horses, Ethan. I got a customer to serve.” She took an iced glass out of a cooler and proceeded to pour Dan’s beer. “Here ya go.” She set it on a coaster in front of him. “That’s three-fifty.”
Dan took a five dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the change.” He didn’t have much money. One beer would have to do it. He took a sip. The yeasty flavor warmed him to his toes.
“You look like a man who knows how to enjoy the simple things in life.”
Dan turned his head enough to get a good peek at the man standing beside him. Handsome in an untrustworthy way, he decided. His years in prison had taught him to judge a person in a quick and efficient manner. Generally, he was spot-on when he applied himself to parsing out whether someone was trustworthy or not. This guy was definitely in the ‘or not’ category.
That didn’t mean Dan could be rude. “Thanks.” Or chatty.
“I’m Quincy.” He held out his hand.
Dan had to shake it or be rude, which might start a fight. He didn’t want that. “Dan.” He’d intended the contact to be brief, but Quincy held onto his hand. Short of jerking it back with a bit of force, Dan was stuck.
“Let go of the man, you ass,” Mary sniped, popping her bar towel at Quincy. “Anyone can tell you’re making him uncomfortable.”
Dan grimaced and ducked his head, wishing he’d have let his hair grow out so it’d hide his face.
“I’m just being friendly.” Quincy added a tickle to Dan’s palm then released his hand. “I like a lean man. Usually means he fucks like a machine.”
Despite finding Quincy untrustworthy, Dan’s cock perked up a little at that. He resisted the urge to reach down and shift the hardening length into a more comfortable position. Doing so would give away his burgeoning arousal, and he didn’t know that he wanted to mess around with Quincy despite how long it’d been since Dan had gotten off.
“Friendly my white, dimpled ass,” Mary said. “You don’t want that horn-dog bothering you, just send him off. Quincy will fuck anything that’ll bend him over. Or I guess he’ll let anyone that wants to bend him over fuck him. All the same shit to me.”
“That’s because you’re an undiscerning dyke,” Quincy drawled.
Mary popped the towel again and just missed Quincy’s cheek. “Boy, I will take you outside and clean the pavement with you if you don’t watch it. Don’t think being my cousin is gonna save you. I ain’t ever cared for your side of the family anyway.”
Quincy laughed. “Hell, me neither. They’re a bunch of bigots. Don’t go glaring at me and getting all bitchy over Dan, here. If he don’t want any of what I’m offering, he can tell me to git and I will.”
“Dan?” Mary asked.
Dan stopped trying to tuck his head between his shoulders and looked at Mary. “We’re fine.” His mouth was dry, so he took a few more swallows of beer.
“See? He likes me.” Quincy plopped a hand onto Dan’s thigh—high enough up that Dan could feel the heat from Quincy’s skin on his balls.
“Mmhm. Whatever. No fucking in the bathrooms. It’s out back or at your place.” Mary turned her nose up and walked to the end of the bar, talking to another customer.
“She’s such a bitch, but I love her,” Quincy whispered. “And she’s telling the truth. I love to get fucked. You look dangerous, with that scar. Oh, it’s two scars, huh?”
Dan felt the beer turn sour in his belly. “I—“
“Hey, don’t take offense,” Quincy said. “Those scars are there whether I mention ‘em or not, so you should be glad I’m turned on by ‘em. Not everyone would be. I can see past those scars to the man beneath ‘em.” Quincy slid his hand up and cupped Dan’s balls through his jeans. “Nice. Hot.” He leaned in and damn near purred in Dan’s ear. “I’m not asking for a ring, just a fuck.” Then Quincy was caressing Dan’s cock and despite the material in the way, Dan went breathless with the need to get off.
“Okay.” He drained the last of his beer then cut his eyes toward Quincy. “You got stuff?”
Quincy beamed at him. “Damn right I do. Come on.”
Dan got up and tried to ignore the way his face felt hot when Mary looked at them.
“Forget the fucking out back shit, I have an apartment just around the corner,” Quincy was saying as he gripped Dan’s wrist. “Got everything we need there, too.”
Dan ignored everything but the promise of getting laid. Quincy wasn’t someone he’d be friends with. Sex was another matter entirely.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Quincy asked when they were outside, walking almost too fast for Dan’s liking.
“Don’t have much to say,” Dan informed him.
“The strong, silent type. Awesome.” Quincy giggled and nudged Dan’s hip. “I bet you aren’t so quiet when you’re fucking me.”
Dan was inclined to disagree. He’d had to be very quiet when Mosh was fucking him or else face repercussions he might not have survived. Sharing that tidbit with Quincy wasn’t happening, so Dan merely shrugged.
“Oh, now I’m gonna make sure you shout out my name when you come,” Quincy promised. “Walk faster.”
Getting laid was seeming like more trouble than it was worth, yet Dan kept up with Quincy, not knowing how to get out of it.
And once he got a look at Quincy’s plump backside, he wasn’t as inclined to bolt after all. Dan’s cock perked back up and the last hundred feet or so of walking was downright uncomfortable because of that.
“Here we are.” Quincy pulled a key ring from his pants pocket then unlocked the door to what looked like a duplex, at least. There could have been more parts to it, but Dan quit paying attention to anything other than the sway of Quincy’s ass when he went through the doorway.
Dan followed him and shucked his jacket while Quincy locked up.
“Not the best neighborhood, ya know,” Quincy said. He flipped the deadbolt. “My bedroom’s off to the left. Stuff’s on the nightstand.”
A quick glance showed that Quincy’s place was decorated in bright colors and old furniture, the couch in particular threadbare, which was a blessing considering it was neon orange. “Sounds like you were planning on bringing someone back here,” Dan told him.
Quincy smirked at him as he walked past Dan. “Of course I was. This ass was made for fucking.” He slapped his own rump. “And it doesn’t go without many nights at all.”
Dan figured that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Quincy wanting more than an hour or two of his time. It didn’t matter if Dan didn’t particularly like Quincy—then again, how could he? He didn’t know the man at all. Dan buried any doubts or qualms he had and followed after Quincy.
The bedroom was every bit as obnoxiously decorated as the rest of the apartment was. Bright colors clashed all over the place. It made Dan’s eyes ache, and he wondered if Quincy was color blind.
Quincy gestured to the bed, which had a purple and pink blanket on it, as well as so many fancy pillows in an array of colors that Dan couldn’t focus on any of them. “How do you like my rainbow bed?”
“S’that what it is?” Dan asked before he could stop himself.
Laughing, Quincy flung the covers back. “Nah, it’s just like that because I love colors. When I was growing up—“ He stopped and shook his head. “Sorry. No conversation unless it has to do with sex.” He pulled his shirt off in one smooth, and obviously practiced, move. “What’re you waiting for, cowboy?”
“Cowboy?” Dan shook his head. “Not hardly.”
“Whatever, I can fantasize. Don’t ruin it by telling me you work at McDonalds or somewhere like that.” Quincy started in on his jeans.
Dan couldn’t tell Quincy he worked anywhere since he’d yet to find a job. Not wanting to appear to be on the verge of walking out, which was how Dan felt, he instead toed off his hiking boots and socks before stripping out of the rest of his clothing.
“Whadda ya think?” Quincy posed, one hand on a cocked hip, the other behind his head. He was cute enough, a little soft around the middle, but Dan didn’t mind that at all. There was still something about Quincy that almost gave Dan the creeps, but whatever it was, he couldn’t name it and he wanted to fuck more than he wanted to figure out what was bugging him about the man.
Quincy ran one finger down the length of his hard, slender cock. “You are a top, aren’t you?”
Dan was whatever he needed to be in that moment. “Yeah.”
Quincy looked him up and down. “You’re pretty skinny. Are you sick?”
“Nope. Just built this way.” And he didn’t eat much because his nerves seemed to get the best of him lately.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. That’s a nice, fat dick you got there, and you’re going to put a condom over it, so whatever.” Quincy shrugged. He leapt onto the bed and went down on his hands and knees. “What’re you waiting for?”
Dan shook himself and fetched a condom from the bedside table. He opened the package and rolled the rubber down his cock, then set the torn wrapper down so he could get the lube.
Once he had his shaft coated enough, he asked, “You need me to get you ready?”
Quincy laughed. “Please. I told you, this ass hardly go a night without getting fucked, if not by someone else, then with one of my toys. I can handle what you’ve got, cowboy.”
Telling himself not to be judgmental about that, Dan got up behind Quincy. The man did have a nice, plump butt, with a few dimples here and there. Dan cupped his cheeks and gave them a squeeze.
“Mmm, that’s nice, but get to it,” Quincy said.
Foreplay wasn’t something Dan had a lot of experience at, and in that moment, he realized he’d have liked to have had time to play around some, learn a few things about himself and the man he was going to fuck. Then again, he guessed he knew all he needed to about Quincy.
“It’s not rocket science,” Quincy nagged, turning to glare over his shoulder. “Just shove it—ah! God! Damn!”
Dan had lined up his dick and thrust in almost fully, goaded by Quincy until he’d been in in danger of losing his erection if he didn’t shut him up.
Feeling the tight, hot grip of Quincy’s ass around his cock averted any possibility of Dan going soft. He bit his bottom lip, grabbed onto Quincy’s shoulders, and pulled him back while at the same time pushing the rest of his dick into Quincy’s ass.
“Ohhhh, yeah, baby, fuck me,” Quincy rasped, arching his lower back.
The rippling of his inner walls around Dan’s cock sent pleasure spiraling up from Dan’s groin to all pertinent parts of his body. Dan pressed his brow to the back of Quincy’s head and fucked as hard and fast as he could in that position.
When he needed more power, he raised up and pressed down on Quincy’s shoulders, pinning him to the bed. Dan braced one leg beside Quincy’s hip and slammed into his ass again and again.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and back. Dan ground his teeth and kept driving into Quincy, seeking release yet holding it off, not wanting to end it just yet. He hadn’t even jacked off more than a couple of times since getting out of prison. 

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

And the Stars Danced Ch. 1

Copyright 2015
Bailey Bradford

Chapter One

“Elliot, hurry or you’ll be late to your appointment.”
Elliot was tempted to ignore his mom’s nagging since going to the psychiatrist was the last thing he wanted to do. However, he assured himself he could handle it. He’d learned to lie about the dreams and to swear he took his meds. Fortunately, he no longer had to have blood drawn for monitoring like he used to do.
“I’m almost ready.” Elliot checked that he had the right amount of meds left in the pill bottles. It had taken him far too long to understand that he’d always be drugged, no one would believe him to be sane. Once that had sunk in, however, Elliot had begun to make some changes.
Even so, it was unfortunate that he was still held prisoner by his own fears, as evidenced by his failure to act like a normal human being yesterday when he’d snuck into town.
He glanced at his hand. The skin there was healed over already. Elliot curled his hand into a fist. He’d have thought he hallucinated the scrapes and blood from yesterday but for the fact that there’d been blood on his shorts from where he’d wiped his hands.
Unless he was hallucinating that, too—“No.” Don’t start doubting. Don’t start or you’ll never stop. Then I really will be as crazy as everyone thinks.
Elliot checked his reflection in the mirror. He’d tamed his wild hair, pulling it into a pony, making sure he didn’t have frizzy strands sticking up all over. A neat appearance did more to sway most mental health workers than anything else sometimes.
If he had trouble meeting his own eyes in the mirror, that was okay.
Elliot called out, “I’m ready,” before his mother barged in on him. He wasn’t allowed a lock on his door, but his family did try to allow him some privacy.
An hour later, he sat in Dr. DelVecchio’s office, answering the same questions he always had to answer on the monthly medical checkup appointments.
“No sir, I haven’t been hallucinating.”
“No sir, I don’t feel like I’m being watched anymore.”
“No sir, I haven’t had anymore dreams about aliens or the world ending.”
“Yes sir, I’ve taken all of my medications. Yes, I set my phone alarms so I don’t miss a dose.”
He never volunteered anything extra, ever. Every month, he feared being committed again, even though he knew he’d kept from letting on that he was lying with almost every answer he gave.
When Dr. DelVecchio gave him a nod and sent him out of the room, Elliot tried not to twitch, but a tic started up below his left eye. He ducked his head and wished his hair was loose. A peek at the doctor and he relaxed. DelVecchio was busy writing down something on Elliot’s chart. Whatever it was, hopefully it wouldn’t result in more medications or appointments.
Elliot entered the waiting room just as his mother stood up. He hated that more, his mom going to talk to DelVecchio alone after these appointments.
There was nothing for it. Elliot sat down and picked up a magazine. He pretended to read it while waiting for his mom’s return. Nerves coiled in him, worry making his head pound. Something was coming, something bad was going to happen, he just knew it.
I don’t know it. I’m not psychic. That’s just paranoia. It’s just me being crazy.
Maybe he wasn’t crazy like everyone else thought he was, but Elliot knew he had his problems.
When his mother came out holding a few slips of paper, he knew he had more problems ahead.
Elliot stood up. He wanted to ask what she had in her hand but didn’t, afraid his anxiety would make him seem unstable.
Besides, she would tell him.
Sure enough, once they were in the hall, she turned to him. “Dr. DelVecchio wants a few blood tests done, and he’s changing your medication dosage.”
Damn it, Elliot had been too coherent and alert, hadn’t he? He bit his tongue until he tasted blood to keep himself from arguing. Instead he let his mom lead him down a floor to the lab.
All the while, his mind raced. When he was handed a cup for a urine sample, he nearly passed out with fear.
They were checking on his meds, to see if he’d taken them. Despite him being as normal as possible, DelVecchio obviously still suspected something.
Elliot didn’t want to get busted lying about taking his meds. That would almost certainly get him stuck back in a psych ward, so doped up he couldn’t even move. That was the most terrifying thing that could happen to him, to be utterly stripped of control and dignity again.
No way would he go back. Elliot calculated his odds of running out of the place and getting away. They were practically non-existent.
The blood tests wouldn’t be back immediately. The urine test, that was another matter. He thought it was done quickly in the lab there.
He could be wrong. It could all be done in a matter of minutes. Elliot had no way of knowing how things worked there.
But he felt it, in his gut, that pressing weight telling him something big was going to happen. Something bad.
Delusion or not, he had to listen to it.
Elliot took the cup and headed for the restroom. He had refrained from drinking anything last night or this morning for just such a reason, so it wasn’t much of a lie when he returned and told his mom he couldn’t go.
“I’ll ask them for a bottle of water,” she told him.
Elliot held onto the bare thread of hope that if he couldn’t get out of the tests, when the results came back showing he hadn’t been on any of his meds, maybe his mother and father would listen to him. Would remember that he’d been calm and reasonable and everything he was supposed to be with the help of drugs.
“Elliot Anderson?” said one of the assistants. “Come with me, please.”
Elliot followed her while his mom talked with someone at the front desk.
In the small room where his blood was to be drawn, a man in a dark suit and tie stood waiting.
Elliot stopped in his tracks, unaccountably scared of the man.
“You can leave,” the stranger said to the lady who’d led Elliot in.
The man wasn’t huge, yet he was intimidating. He had pale blue eyes that seemed to seer right into Elliot’s head.
He walked over to where Elliot stood frozen in place. Those frigid eyes never blinked, nor did the man’s express alter in the slightest from the blank slate it was.
He walked around Elliot after Elliot lowered his gaze. He couldn’t look at the man any longer.

After a moment, Elliot felt a prick to the back of his neck. He didn’t make a sound as his body went weak and consciousness fled.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

All righty! ARe bucks winner and Cover Art!

Don't Stake My Life On It, the second book in the Vamp For Me series will becoming up for pre-order in July! It's all-new, the story after Augustin & Tony's, featuring Radney :D Here's a blurb:

Radney was tired of being the coven oddball. He had his reasons for being the way he was, and he let those reasons rule his life for centuries. Another mistake-- almost harming a human he’d been sent to keep an eye on-- has sent Radney on a mission of self-improvement. He’s going to conquer his issues and be the best damned vamp ever!


Andrew Meyers has the term paper from hell to write. It needs to be original and intriguing. What could be more so than people with a vampire fetish?

But when that fetish turns out to be one he has for a very sexy kilt-wearing, neurotic vampire, the tables are turned. Andrew isn’t prepared to find out that vampires are real, but he learns it anyway. With help from his twin brother, Erin, he just might be able to find a happy ending—or an ecstatic beginning—for him and his hot as hell red-headed vamp. If he’s careful, and patient, he might even find the vamp for him.

And here's the amazing cover, created by the always-incredible cover art goddess, Emmy Ellis:

And, release dates:

Preorder: 14th July 2015
Early download: 28th July 2015
General release: 25th August 2015

Mmmkay. Now, on to the weekly winner!

Congratulations to:

#114/Rhonda W! Rhonda W, if you'll email me at itsbaileybradford@yahoo.com I will get those ARe bucks sent out to you!

Y'all be safe-- Texas is flooded all over the place, and I know other states are in the same fix. Be careful.