Sneak Peek at more of The Jasper Soul

I promised another excerpt, but I don't want to give away too much for those who haven't read the blog story. Maybe this bit will entice y'all to give the story a chance :D This is also an example of the two different POVs. There's a reason one's 1st person and one isn't; it worked for me with the characters and the situations they were in.

Anyway! I hope y'all enjoy this peek at The Jasper Soul.

Copyright 2019
Bailey Bradford

Chapter Ten

So close. So close and yet…And yet he didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He’d been held in stasis, enclosed in the jasper, for so long he wasn’t even certain who he was anymore. Or if he was even real.

But there’d been a pull, a tug he couldn’t resist, and he’d been yanked from the stone. It had been incredibly painful and terrifying. He had no idea why, or what had happened, except the next moment, he was standing, staring at a man, unable to look away from him.

Vaguely aware of the music, he continued to wait, watch, held in place by some unnamed force. He wasn’t exactly whole, yet he was…something, something real enough to hold up clothes that were on him, something realenough to draw attention of other men.

But not the man he wanted to see him.

Until someone pointed, and as badly as he wanted to stay, to meet the guy calling to him, he had to turn around. His body—what there was of it—was not his own.

If he could have stayed there in that alley, and let himself be bared to the man, would he have?

It was a question he would never have an answer to. The jasper encased him before he could do more than wonder what was happening.

 **********************************************************************

I think I passed out. That wasn’t something I was admitting to anyone, either. I remember chasing the guy in the hoodie, and the particular feeling that I had to see him, to speak to him. Then there was the whole weird thing with me not being able to catch him when I should have done just that.

After that, the alley, shivers racing over me, goosebumps as I reached for him—

I sat up in the alley and rubbed the back of my head. It ached, but there was only a small knot. The fact that I was, or had been, lying in an alley? Good God on speed, that’s disgusting!

After I scrambled to my feet, I immediately regretted moving so fast. I was dizzy. Without really thinking about it, I reached for the stone in my pocket.

It wasn’t there.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, more panicked than ever as I shoved my hands into my pockets. “No, no—”

I don’t know how I found it. Someone must have flashed a light somewhere—maybe a headlight?—and the stone picked it up just enough to sparkle.

“Oh, thank God,” I said as I grabbed it. I clasped it hard and held it to my chest. Weird, but whatever.I couldn’t lose the stone. “No more of that.” It didn’t matter who or what I was talking to. More than anything, I just needed to hear my own voice. No one else was going to pop in and say, “Wow, Matt! I am glad you found that stone!”

Snorting, I put the jasper back in my front right jeans pocket. “No more escaping on me.” I left the alley, noticing that I didn’t feel like I’d hit the ground back there. A touch to the back of my head and I could tell the knot was almost gone.

Maybe having hallucinations wasn’t a bad thing if they came with rapid healing? Or was I hallucinating that I was injured, or healing, or…

Too much to think about. The sidewalk wasn’t crowded now that I was off Sixth Street. In fact, I didn’t see anyone else around. My phone was still in my back pocket, but when I took it out—well, what would you expect would happen to an iPhone not in a case if you fell on it? Yeah, it was wrecked.

“Great.” That’d make getting hold of my friends or calling for an Uber difficult. I’d just have to hoof it back to the club. It really wasn’t far.

But the heat and humidity grew more oppressive and I felt more and more uncomfortable, until I was almost certain someone was watching me, maybe even following me. I kept looking back and never saw anyone. It didn’t make any difference. The sensation only grew stronger.

Fuck it.I wasn’t made to be some brave, dashing, selfless hero. I took off running, knowing if I hit Sixth Street, I’d probably be safe.

I made it there, and back to the club, where I found Artie and the others. When they asked me about the mystery man, I just told them I hadn’t been able to find him.

But the rest of the evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched by something bad, evil. I don’t know. Maybe it was a portent. All I did know was danger seemed to be hovering around me and I didn’t have a clue as to why.

Installment dates and a second, **NSFW** peek at The 13th Month

I've got to work again and haven't had a day off since Thursday...and am not off again until this Thursday. However! I should be able to write a couple of installments because of the change in hours that I do work. I'm thinking Thursday and Friday *had to change, am still working on tThe 13th Month* for installments. If that changes, I'll let y'all know! 

<3 

Calendar Men 13
The 13th Month
Copyright 2018
Bailey Bradford

Ezra’s skin was warm, the heat from it slipping through his shirt. Marco turned his head enough to press his lips against Ezra’s chest, hoping Ezra wouldn’t notice what he was doing.

But Ezra’s breath hitched, and he pulled Marco closer. “Marco?” Ezra’s raspy voice caused a reaction Marco hadn’t experienced since before Evan had tried to kill him. Desire coursed through him, and though his dick didn’t get hard, there was the definite promise of an erection there if he kept touching Ezra. 

“I can’t remember,” he found himself muttering, “when the last time I had sex was. I didn’t like fucking Evan, and she didn’t enjoy it, either.”

Ezra tucked a finger under Marco’s chin and tugged. 

Marco, knowing he was blushing because his face and neck were too hot, forced himself to look at Ezra. 

“You didn’t go elsewhere for sex?”’ Ezra asked, a tension in his face Marco didn’t know how to read.

Marco would have shaken his head if he’d been able to, but there wasn’t room. “I’ve never been the cheater, no matter what anyone has said. I know how bad that hurts, thanks to Winnie. But I have pushed women away, made them cheat if they were looking for affection. I know that now, and it—damn it, Ezra, I’ve fucked up my whole life. I—”

His pulse doubled in speed as Ezra closed the distance between their lips, kissing Marco’s words away, sliding his tongue into Marco’s mouth with a tentative caress that melted Marco inside. 

The sob surprised him. Marco didn’t know where it came from, why the wave of pain rolled through him and spilled out in that sound. He tried to cling to Ezra, but lying on his left side, only his right hand was free, and it didn’t cooperate with his brain’s command to grab Ezra’s arm. 

Marco didn’t want the kiss to end because he’d almost cried like a baby. 

Ezra didn’t pull back. Either he knew Marco well enough to intuit what he needed, or he didn’t recognize the sound for what it was. 

Marco chose to believe it was the former. 

Ezra slipped one hand down to Marco’s hip, bringing their groins together. There was not frenzied groping, just the press of their bodies, Ezra’s moving his hand to Marco’s lower back, and Marco, needy, hungry for affection, opening for more of Ezra’s kisses. 

“This is why,” Ezra said in between those kisses, “this is why.”

Marco didn’t know what he meant, couldn’t think when all of his thoughts were a blend of chaotic joy.

A Tiny Sneak Peek at Mr. May Coming Soon to Pride Publishing!

...which I'm still in the process of writing...

Copyright 2018
Bailey Bradford

Derrick wasn’t a huge fan of crowds, but he loved art, which was the only reason he was in downtown San Antonio on a Friday afternoon. He’d come to the Hemisphere Arena grounds to check out the new Art Bonanza with the hopes of finding something special for his new house.

“Ohhhh, you look like a man in dire need of a walk on the wild side!”

Derrick spun around so fast that he was dizzy for a couple of seconds. He blinked away gray and black dots so he could see who had spoken, or borderline cat-called him. Maybe full-on. I don’t know. 

His gaze landed on a short man with a big smile, a lot of freckles, and bright red hair. Derrick’s first thought was the guy looked like a leprechaun. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, good-lookin’. Come on over here and try my wild and wicked devil-dog!”

What the heck… Derrick noticed the cart and sign behind the man then. Niall’s Gourmet Hot Dogs. He cocked an eyebrow at the guy who might or might not be Niall. “Do you always harass potential customers?”

The red-head’s smile didn’t falter at all as he winked at Derrick. “Well, you weren’t a potential customer when you walked on by me, but now you are, so I’d say my advertising methods work. Gotta take a chance now and then, you know. Nothing ventured, and all that. Besides, you’re here to celebrate art! Have a little fun— and a spicy, amazing hot dog!”

Derrick wasn’t the only by-passer. “Why aren’t you trying to sell to them?” He gestured at some of the people walking nearby.

Rather than answer, the man stepped behind his cart and used tongs to remove a hot dog from the grill. He held it up and waggled his eyebrows. “You know you want some.”

Derrick felt his cheeks heat with a blush. “Are— are you— “ he spluttered, unable to get the rest of the question out. 

“I’m just asking if you want a wild and wicked devil dog. Live a little, my man.”

Maybe the guy wasn’t flirting. Derrick had thought— No, he just wants to sell a hot dog. He wouldn’t flirt with me for real. It’d been a while since a guy had flirted with him in any way, however, so it wouldn’t hurt him to get a hot dog and chat with the cute redhead for a minute. 

Besides, Derrick couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hot dog. “Okay, sure. Er, what’s on this amazing hot dog?”

“Why don’t you let me surprise you? I promise, it’ll be a good surprise. I’m Niall, by the way, and you are?” Niall dropped the hot dog onto a bun and started piling on toppings. 

Derrick tried not to wince. Relinquishing control of what was going into his body had always been tough for him, and that didn’t just mean food. “Derrick. Tovar. Derrick Tovar.” He sounded like an idiot. 

Niall winked at him again. “Well, then, Derrick Tovar Derrick Tovar, my last name is McKinley. Come a little closer. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” 

That blush was back, heating up Derrick’s cheeks. “Do you flirt with all the guys?”

“Nah,” Niall said. “Not even half of them. Same with women. I’m particular about who I offer my favors to.”

Hm. Bet he sells a lot of hot dogs with that schtick. But there weren’t any other customers around. Derrick moved closer to the hot dog cart. His nose burned when he caught a whiff of hot peppers. “I should have taken something for heartburn. Spicy foods, you know.”

Niall chuckled. “Oh, nah, you won’t need any of that with my dogs. I have a secret ingredient that makes ‘em heartburn proof.”

“Sure you do.” Derrick licked his lips in anticipation. So what if he got heartburn? It might be worth it. The hot dog smelled delicious, and it was piled high with toppings. 

“It’s true,” Niall assured him. “Old family recipe, brought over with us from Ireland. Here. Take a bite.” He had placed the dog and bun in a white paper tray. “I’ll get you some chips to go with it, and a drink, too.”

Derrick took the hot dog, his mouth watering and his hunger making itself known with a rumble through his belly. 

“You want plain chips, barbecue, sour cream, or salt and vinegar? And what kind of drink do you want? I have soda, tea, water.” Niall tapped the salt and vinegar chips. “I think these are the best.”

“Those, then, and a sweet tea, please.” Derrick stopped tormenting himself and took a bite of the hot dog. “Mmph. Ohmygod. S’good.” Forget not talking with food in his mouth; he had to sing Niall’s praises. The flavors of quality meat, spicy peppers, tangy cheese, crunchy…other things, all blended together for a near-orgasmic explosion of culinary perfection. Even a few days of heartburn would be worth the price. 

“Told ya it’s good.” Niall opened the bag of chips and set them in front of Derrick. He grabbed a bottle of chilled tea. “I can make better tea myself, but this is easier for the customer and me. Not bad, either.” He twisted the top off the bottle. “Enjoy, stud. I’ve got to take this kind lady’s order. Don’t run off on me.” 

Since Derrick hadn’t paid, he couldn’t very well leave. He didn’t mind eating at the cart, though. He had shade, there was a nice breeze tempering the hot, humid day. As Derrick ate, he watched Niall. While Niall was chatty with the customers, he didn’t give any of them the same broad smile he’d given Derrick, and he didn’t flirt, either. 

That kind of made Derrick feel special. Stop it. He doesn’t think I’m special.

Niall glanced at him, and Derrick stopped mid-bite, held captive by the Niall’s emerald-green gaze for a moment before realizing he had to look like a fool, standing there with a hot dog in his mouth.

Derrick went back to enjoying his food while Niall served customers and rang up their bills. Niall was outgoing, and the customers seemed to like him, laughing and joking with him. Even one guy who’d been snappish at first, grilling Niall on the ingredients of the hot dogs, had ended up grinning and giggling.

“See? Wasn’t a one of them that I wanted to flirt with.” Niall smirked. “Just you, stud. Tell me about yourself.”

Derrick finished off the bag of chips, then washed them down with a drink of tea. He set the bottle on the cart. “I’m a financial manager with a company that specializes in the medical field.” One of the best and brightest of the up and coming financial managers, but he didn’t add that. He knew how boring his job sounded, so he couldn’t help but add, “I also posed for a charity calendar, um, an all-male calendar to raise money to find a cure for childhood cancer. And I’m ninety-three percent sure the entire photo shoot was jinxed.”

Niall’s eyes went wide, his face lit up, and he snapped his fingers. “Oh ho! I know what photo thing you’re talking about! The one that made the news a few months back because that lady poisoned people then tried to murder her husband? That one?”

Derrick’s gut cramped and he wished he hadn’t brought the subject up. “Yeah, that one. Anyway. How much do I owe you?”

Niall’s expression fell. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you run off. The meal’s on me.”

Derrick was surprised. “Isn’t your whole point here to make money?”

“Not my whole point,” Niall countered. “I like to feed people, and talk to folks. There’s more to this world than money.”

A Sneak Peek at Power 3: Dominant

Hey all! I actually scheduled this post, because today I'm driving Mom to Denver so she can fly from there to my sister's. I'll be driving back on Tuesday and will have an installment up late Tuesday night.

I finished the Power short, but will have to finish Planets Weds/Thursday (Hey! At least I finished something new!) Anyway, here's sneak peek at Dominant!


Unedited, of course

Power 3: Dominant
Copyright 2017 Bailey Bradford

A sub cried out and Forest jerked his head around towards the sound. He watched as a Dom spanked the sub with a paddle. A half-dozen or so people were moving closer to observe the pair. Forest assumed there was nothing wrong with him doing so as well. He left his spot against the wall and walked a few steps closer.

“Like what you see?” someone rumbled from behind Forest.

Forest jolted and spun around to find himself nose to chest with a man wearing a lot of black leather. “Uh.”

“Answer me, boy.”

All the articles Forest had read on BDSM, all the advice he’d studied for newcomers, vanished right out of his head.

“You need to learn some manners, boy,” the man said as he reached for Forest. “Bet a whip can teach you those.”

“A-a W-whip?” Forest started to shake, and not with excitement. “I d-don’t—“

“That’s for me to decide—“

“J.D., back off.” The voice that delivered that order sent a shiver down Forest’s spine.

He turned toward the Dom and sub he’d been watching a moment earlier, and found the owner of that magnificent voice staring at him. Oh, dang. He’s handsome! Not model-perfect, but rough-hewn and masculine without being overly much so.

“Quar, I saw him first,” J.D. snapped.

“He’s not a prize, J.D. I’m sure if this gentleman wants your attention, he’ll say so,” Quar—what kind of name is that?—replied. “No terrifying unwilling subs, you know that. If you can’t follow the rules, you also know where the door is.”

“Think your hot shit because you’re one of the owners,” J.D. was muttering. “You ain’t even a cold turd. You don’t control me.”

Forest bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if he should make a run for that door Quar had mentioned. He took a step back so he could keep an eye on both men.

“No, but I do control what happens in my club,” Quar countered. “And if we’re playing a game of I saw him first, what’s he driving?”

J.D. scowled. “What’re you talking about? I’ve been watching him in here.”

“Okay. Then I saw him first. I was in the parking lot when he pulled up. Following your logic, I’d have first dibs.” Quar gestured at Forest. “But again, that would be up to…” He arched an eyebrow at Forest.

“Forest, sir,” Forest mumbled, the ‘sir’ slipping out before he could think about it.

“It’d be up to Forest who he wanted to talk to or do anything else with,” Quar said with a nod to Forest. “I could be wrong, but from observing you, Forest, I would guess this is your first time at a BDSM club?”

“Yes sir, it is,” Forest replied. “Um. I don’t know the rules.” He darted a glance at J.D. then back at Quar. “I just wanted to check it out.”

Quar nodded. “And would you like to have J.D. show you around? I hate to put you on the spot, but you’ll have to be upfront with him.”

“I’m fucking standing right here,” J.D. snarled. “Stop talking like I’m not here!”

Forest hated confrontations. He gulped as he slid a foot away from J.D., which put him closer to Quar. Both men waited on him to answer. An uncomfortable knot born of anxiety and nerves grew in Forest’s gut. He wished Quar would speak up for him. Forest was certain Quar knew his answer.

But Quar only nodded again when Forest dared to look him in the eyes.

Then Forest felt it—a warm touch to his hip. He knew it was Quar, unless J.D. had grown stretchy arms. That press of fingers to his hip gave Forest the strength he needed to speak. “I-I don’t want to hang out with you, J.D.”

J.D.’s expression darkened. “You—“

Quar stepped in around Forest, putting himself in between him and J.D. “The sub has the power, J.D. Respect that or leave and don’t come back.”

J.D. muttered something Forest couldn’t quite make out before stomping away like a giant, pissed-off toddler.

“I’ll have to have one of the other owners speak with him about our rules,” Quar said as he looked at Forest. “I’m Quar, well, Quarry Light, by the way. Odd name, I know, but my parents were quirky. I’ve got two brothers with odd names, too—Slate and Coal. Contrary to what it may seem, our parents do actually love us.”

Forest laughed as that knot in his belly untangled and dissipated. “Forest Tilden. Are they interested in mining or rocks?”

Quar’s smile warmed Forest all the way down to his toes. “Protested mining practices, and yeah, both are geologists. Good call.”

Wednesday sneak peek--

First, thank you all for the kindness you've extended to me and my family. **huggz**

This week is going by quickly! I've been working on Cherri's book, all royalties of which will go to help cover the unpaid medical costs they garnered before Peyton was sent to St. Jude's. I'm also working on a short story follow-up to the Torq short I had out, How the Mighty Have Fallen. If any of y'all read that, you might remember Larry in there, the man who goaded Hadrian to make a play for the dom of his dreams. Larry doesn't allow sex in his scenes, and he has his reasons, but the right dom just might fulfill all his needs.

Back to Cherri's story, which will be the first in a series titled Wild Ones, and the book itself is Deadly Prey. It was only supposed to be about 30k, but it's looking to be between 40-50.

I mentioned this before-- its about coywolf shifters, and you can read up on coywolves here:

http://www.fieldandstream.com/blogs/field-notes/coywolves-emerge-as-super-predators?src=SOC&dom=fb

Here's a bit of rough cut from it, unedited of course.

Wild Ones
Deadly Prey

Copyright 2015
Bailey Bradford

Chapter One

Jack Tucker watched his brother retrieve the rifle from the gun cabinet. “Um. Rhett? What’re you doing?”

Rhett didn’t even glance back at him as he loaded the gun. “What does it look like I’m doing? You been living in the city so long you forgot how a Wyoming rancher lives?” Then he did look over his shoulder at Jack, and Jack kind of wished he hadn’t.

He hated seeing that judgment in his brother’s eyes, and knowing he’d never be good enough for Rhett, never be the man his brother was. “No,” Jack mumbled, “I didn’t forget.”

Rhett sighed and turned until he faced Jack. “Look, that was uncalled for. I’m…I’m sorry, okay?”

Jack was so startled by the apology that he gulped and couldn’t think of a word to say.

Rhett grimaced. “Yeah. Well, okay. Gotta check on some tracks Eddie said he found leading from his property to ours. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He left, striding from the room without seeming to hesitate.

Jack groaned and closed his eyes. Of course Rhett didn’t hesitate—he never had. Rhett always knew what to do, and how to do it, and who he was, and that he was right… Except, he apologized to me, and it screwed my head right up.

“Worse than it already is,” he muttered. Jack couldn’t stop himself from touching his left side, where his bruised ribs throbbed as the pain meds wore off. He was lucky, very lucky, that Rhett hadn’t pushed him on the ‘accident’ that had sent Jack running home from New York, and possibly into the unemployment line. His boss hadn’t been happy with Jack taking off, even with a medical note as an excuse. Jack hadn’t told Rhett much about any of that. As far as Rhett knew, Jack had fallen down some icy steps, and that was all he was going to ever know about the incident.

Jack replayed his brother’s apology in his head and somehow it mingled in with Alex’s. Cold fear trickled down Jack’s spine and his gut cramped hard enough to make him worry about the dinner he’d just eaten.

After several minutes of trying to calm himself down, Jack stood and left the office. He’d wanted to sit and talk with Rhett about finances and try to decide if he should offer to let Rhett buy him out. Jack wasn’t made to be a rancher. He wasn’t made to be a New Yorker, either.

Jack didn’t know what he was supposed to do in life, and at the age of twenty-seven, he kind of thought he should have had an inkling.

His cell phone was ringing when he stepped into his bedroom. Without looking, he knew it was Alex calling. “Who else would it be?” he huffed. It wasn’t like he had any friends left.

Rather than check to see how many times Alex had called and how many texts he’d sent, Jack turned the phone off then stuck it in the nightstand. He eased himself onto the bed, then took a couple of Tylenol 3’s and washed them down with the rest of the water he’d brought in earlier.

The glass was old and familiar, and he felt a pang of regret as he looked it over. Green glass, nothing special about it, yet he remembered so much as he stared.

He could see his mom in the kitchen, fixing a pitcher of tea, talking to him, and listening as he told her about his day at school or the chores he’d had to do around the ranch. She’d always been so kind and understanding, Jack had to believe she’d have been okay with him being gay. He’d spent many afternoons in the kitchen, helping her prepare meals or just basking in her presence. Losing her had almost broken him.

For a few more minutes, he let his mind go back to happy childhood days. His dad wasn’t in nearly as many of those good memories, but Chauncey Tucker hadn’t been a bad man. His dad had been more like Rhett—stoic, focused on the ranch and less on the people around him.

Jack ran one finger around the rim of the glass. He was surprised, really, that there were any of the old things left.

The sound of gunshot startled him so badly he jerked and nearly sent the glass flying.

“Shit!” He winced as he pushed it back, then stood as quickly as he could manage.

Another shot rang out, then a third, and fear quickly overtook every other sensation he’d felt until then.

Rhett had always been an ace shot. If he’d had to use three bullets, then there was something bad outside—a bear or a whole pack of wolves.

Jack didn’t like guns, but he went and got one from the gun cabinet anyway. He loaded it as he walked to the front door, and hoped like hell Rhett wasn’t hurt.

As soon as he stepped outside, the fine hairs at his nape seemed to stand up and vibrate, like some kind of primitive survival instinct warning alert system. Jack froze, his back to the door as his hear slammed hard against his ribs.

Another shot sounded, and it jolted Jack into action. “Rhett! Rhett!” He rushed down the steps and toward the direction the shots had come from. “Rhett! Are you okay?”

When Rhett didn’t immediately answer, Jack ran, careless with the gun, aware of that but unable to make himself do anything other than find his brother as soon as possible. “Rhett!” He stumbled over something on the ground and almost fell before he managed to flail enough to keep himself upright.

Pain tore down his injured side but he ignored it as he called out for his brother yet again. He cursed himself for not thinking to grab a flashlight. The sky was overcast and there was no moonlight to assist him in his search, and once he was past the barns there was no light coming from the house or other structures, either.

Jack realized that the cattle in the closest field were making enough noise to drown out his voice or Rhett’s, making it impossible for them to hear each other.

The sounds of the gunshots must have scared the cattle. Jack worried about a stampede, but he’d never seen any of the critters take out a fence, so he dismissed the idea. “Rhett!” His throat burned as he hollered again.

Lightning streaked across the sky, blinding Jack for a moment, then thunder followed and he couldn’t contain his startled yelp as his ears rang from the sound.

Or his shriek when six pairs of glowing yellow eyes appeared between him and the fence line.

“Shit!” Jack skidded to a halt and hoped he could steady his hands, and force himself to do what he had to do.