Book Spotlight & Giveaway~ Independence Daze

Title: Independence Daze

Author: A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly

Publisher: Torquere Press

Cover Artist: Les Byerley

Release Date: 6/29/16

Heat Level: 5

Pairing(Male/Male, Ménage): M/M, Menage

Length: 21K

Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Menage

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Paul and Hamish are at it and at each other, again in the third installment of A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly’s best-selling BDSM Voyages series. Paul and Hamish may be married but that doesn’t mean their sex life has to be a snore fest. These guys always give each other exactly what they need when they can find time in their busy lives. In between feeding Hamish’s ravenous, pregnant sister, and negotiating relationships with deadbeat, rock star fathers, the lovers are always looking for ways to spice things up. This time, overworked Paul is in for it when Hamish decides to take him on a special retreat that involves a yurt, a Peruvian shaman, and some noxious liquid that wipes out all limits to the imagination. Independence Day never saw anything like this coming!

Excerpt

I walked out of the plant at two in the morning. It was at this point that I permitted myself to feel it. I was dead tired and it was chilly. I regretted not bringing a jacket but then I hadn’t expected it to take so damn long, or for the night to turn cold. I had to keep reminding myself that for a coastal state, California was desert. Outside, I put up the top of the convertible and texted the office with a reminder to bill the plant and also make a report in the morning. When I pulled up into our driveway, I turned off the engine and closed my eyes. I almost fell asleep there. I think I would have if not for who I knew was waiting for me inside. Although, I was pretty sure Hamish had conked out at this hour. With all the energy I had left, I walked up to the door and put the key in the lock. Thankfully, Hamish had left the alarm off. I walked inside, locked the door and set the alarm. As I climbed the stairs I noticed a light on in the master bedroom. Hamish sometimes fell asleep reading so I tried to be quiet anyway as I crept in. I paused, my brow wrinkling as I heard a low buzzing sound coming from the bed. My eyes widened when I saw Hamish lying flat on his back with his slave collar on. He’d attached the collar’s chain to the bed post. Two other chains with nipple clamps lay on his chest. I guess he expected me to do the honors by installing those. I smiled as I came around to the bottom of the bed. Both his legs were raised and spread wide in the air, resting on leather stirrups we’d attached overhead. A rather large vibrating butt plug protruded from his ass, and his cock was strapped nicely with a studded leather cuff. “Your hands are free,” I said, my cock stiffening as I slowly ran my gaze over him. He smiled. “I can fight if you try anything I don’t like.” Hamish used to be a boxer. No one messed with him unless he wanted it. Right now, he wanted it…badly. “So you’ve been busy.” “You told me to stay awake, remember?” “All this for me,” I said, straddling his waist and grabbing both wrists. He was breathing hard as he looked up at me. I wasn’t so tired anymore. I reached over to get the padded cuffs we had tucked behind the bed. I brought up one and attached his wrist. Hamish made quite a show of struggling. I attached the other cuff and leaned back. “My, my, all mine to play with.” “I’ll scream,” he threatened with that gleam in his eyes. “A stranger coming into my house to have his way with me. If I make a lot of noise,” Hamish explained, “the police will come.” “Not if they can’t hear you, they won’t,” I whispered.

Purchase

Torquere Press

 

Meet the Author

A.J. Llewellyn A.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels. A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.

  D.J. Manly I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't written and told stories. When I'm not writing, I'm dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.

  Social Media Links:
  Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/A.J.-Llewellyn/e/B002DBJBC2
  Facebook: www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn www.facebook.com/dante.manly
  Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/ajllewellyn
  Twitter: www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn www.twitter.com/djnovels
  Website: www.ajllewellyn.com www.djmanlyfiction.com

Giveaway

Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy of Independence Daze.
  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Spotlight & Giveaway~ Independence Daze

Title: Independence Daze

Author: A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly

Publisher: Torquere Press

Cover Artist: Les Byerley

Release Date: 6/29/16

Heat Level: 5

Pairing(Male/Male, Ménage): M/M, Menage

Length: 21K

Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Menage

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Paul and Hamish are at it and at each other, again in the third installment of A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly’s best-selling BDSM Voyages series. Paul and Hamish may be married but that doesn’t mean their sex life has to be a snore fest. These guys always give each other exactly what they need when they can find time in their busy lives. In between feeding Hamish’s ravenous, pregnant sister, and negotiating relationships with deadbeat, rock star fathers, the lovers are always looking for ways to spice things up. This time, overworked Paul is in for it when Hamish decides to take him on a special retreat that involves a yurt, a Peruvian shaman, and some noxious liquid that wipes out all limits to the imagination. Independence Day never saw anything like this coming!

Excerpt

I walked out of the plant at two in the morning. It was at this point that I permitted myself to feel it. I was dead tired and it was chilly. I regretted not bringing a jacket but then I hadn’t expected it to take so damn long, or for the night to turn cold. I had to keep reminding myself that for a coastal state, California was desert. Outside, I put up the top of the convertible and texted the office with a reminder to bill the plant and also make a report in the morning. When I pulled up into our driveway, I turned off the engine and closed my eyes. I almost fell asleep there. I think I would have if not for who I knew was waiting for me inside. Although, I was pretty sure Hamish had conked out at this hour. With all the energy I had left, I walked up to the door and put the key in the lock. Thankfully, Hamish had left the alarm off. I walked inside, locked the door and set the alarm. As I climbed the stairs I noticed a light on in the master bedroom. Hamish sometimes fell asleep reading so I tried to be quiet anyway as I crept in. I paused, my brow wrinkling as I heard a low buzzing sound coming from the bed. My eyes widened when I saw Hamish lying flat on his back with his slave collar on. He’d attached the collar’s chain to the bed post. Two other chains with nipple clamps lay on his chest. I guess he expected me to do the honors by installing those. I smiled as I came around to the bottom of the bed. Both his legs were raised and spread wide in the air, resting on leather stirrups we’d attached overhead. A rather large vibrating butt plug protruded from his ass, and his cock was strapped nicely with a studded leather cuff. “Your hands are free,” I said, my cock stiffening as I slowly ran my gaze over him. He smiled. “I can fight if you try anything I don’t like.” Hamish used to be a boxer. No one messed with him unless he wanted it. Right now, he wanted it…badly. “So you’ve been busy.” “You told me to stay awake, remember?” “All this for me,” I said, straddling his waist and grabbing both wrists. He was breathing hard as he looked up at me. I wasn’t so tired anymore. I reached over to get the padded cuffs we had tucked behind the bed. I brought up one and attached his wrist. Hamish made quite a show of struggling. I attached the other cuff and leaned back. “My, my, all mine to play with.” “I’ll scream,” he threatened with that gleam in his eyes. “A stranger coming into my house to have his way with me. If I make a lot of noise,” Hamish explained, “the police will come.” “Not if they can’t hear you, they won’t,” I whispered.

Purchase

Torquere Press

Meet the Author

A.J. Llewellyn A.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels. A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.

  D.J. Manly I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't written and told stories. When I'm not writing, I'm dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.

  Social Media Links:
  Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/A.J.-Llewellyn/e/B002DBJBC2
  Facebook: www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn www.facebook.com/dante.manly
  Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/ajllewellyn
  Twitter: www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn www.twitter.com/djnovels
  Website: www.ajllewellyn.com www.djmanlyfiction.com

Giveaway

Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy of Independence Daze.
  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Discover Love Off the Radar by AJ Llewellyn & DJ Manly

 

Title: Love Off the Radar Collection

Author: A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly

Publisher: Torquere Press

Cover Artist:

Release Date: 6/8/16

Heat Level: 5

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 119K

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Love off the Radar features fourteen tantalizing, otherworldly tales of love, romance, passion, and mystery, by the best-selling team of A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly. In Chaos, a fallen god looks for love at a truck stop. A young man hovers between love and death in Hardsex. Before Morning is an erotic, romantic, volcanic vampire tale set in Feudal Japan – with a serious twist. Mojo Rising is a scandalous tale of same-sex love set in the South Seas. D.J. Manly addresses BDSM in Disciplining Baron, and the two authors join forces for the paranormal title story Love off the Radar. Which will kill Mo Dingley first? Love, or a curse? Speaking of curses, Have you ever read the personal journals of a werewolf, or a vampire? Now's your chance! We've also got two very different love stories set in the time of Atlantis, and the sad but sweet Clean Monday, a coming-out story with a surprising hero. There are sexy, spicy tales involving zombies, where boys meet boys and almost…eat them. We have it all because love is love, and can't always be wrapped up in a neat little bow.

Excerpt

From the title story Love off the Radar: Mo should have suspected the universe was about to hose him when he arrived at the office and found the receptionist sniveling over her laptop. He'd assumed she was having some personal crisis. He felt a little guilty now that he'd uttered a brusque "Good morning" and had walked right by her. When Jonathan Sampson personally buzzed Mo and invited him into the conference room for coffee, he'd assumed—again, stupidly—that he was about to be given a raise. He'd played the imaginary conversation in his mind as he quickly combed his thick, sandy-colored hair, straightened his bolo tie, and had run his fingertips over his unruly eyebrows. He'd walked in, full of smiles, hoping to be commended for the brilliant job he'd done designing and overseeing a synagogue completely built out of recycled materials and powered by solar energy. It had appeared on the evening news, and Architectural Digest was featuring it next month. Mo suspected that the big-bucks job hadn't impressed Buckley and Sampson because the synagogue was a GLBT one. And gay didn't go down too well in the company, even though their lone gay architect had, in three short months, brought them almost four million dollars in revenue. No. What he got was a year in fingle-fangled Japan. It beat his last job where he'd spent a year in Kentucky designing the same ergonomic office spaces over and over again. Mo stared into his still full cup of coffee, prepared for him by the sniveling receptionist. He wondered if she'd wept into his cup. "Well?" Sampson asked. "May I think it over tonight?" Mr. Sampson looked disappointed. "I'll give you twenty-four hours. You'll need to leave by Monday." Mo swallowed. Hard. "What about the accounts I'm working on?" Mr. Sampson couldn't look at him. "We're going to hand them over to some of our junior executives." "But those are my accounts. My relationships brought in those deals." Asshole. I just figured it out. They used me to get the contracts, now their straight account executives are going to complete the projects. They'll never do the job I could do. He left the office for the meeting he'd scheduled with the rabbi. He adjusted his black Stetson on his head, straightened his bolo tie and used a bristle brush to clean his black suit. Not that he needed it. It was always good to make sure though. Sometimes when he morphed back into human form, he forgot himself and wolf hairs stuck to him. Damned curse. He stared down at his black cowboy boots. He'd come to California with three pair and these were his favorite, lucky boots. Well, they weren't so lucky this morning. Mo drove to West Hollywood in a daze, trying to imagine not being here anymore. He was surprised when he hit the turnoff on the ten for La Cienega Boulevard and headed south. On Pico, he found street parking and almost didn't pay for the meter. Just out of spite. But it would be just his luck if a parking ticket haunted him across the Pacific. He slid his credit card into the meter, paid for two hours, not that he thought he'd need it, then stood back to survey his golden beauty. From the outside, the synagogue looked very utilitarian. Inside, it was cozy, temperate, and gorgeous. As he strode into the building, he admired once again the carpet that had been fashioned by his ex-lover, Andrew, out of recycled jeans. Each and every item used in the construction of the Temple Ruth Center had been a labor of love for Mo, and the artisans he'd brought in to help him with the project. Though not Jewish, he admired the rabbi, Beth Cohen, and the synagogue's motto of ikkun olan (repair the world). He believed in beautiful spaces. He believed in being responsible and being accountable. Even as he shook the rabbi's hand and greeted the reporter from Architectural Digest, he knew his time in LA was short. He could sniff it out, like a coming Santa Ana wind and knew. Mo Dingley was going to Japan. He slept badly, falling into a restless snooze on the sofa whilst watching a design program on HGTV. He awoke to canned laughter and raised his head from the cushions tucked under his arm. Somehow he'd rolled over onto the remote and he'd hit an obscure cable station. An old episode of Seinfeld was playing. He'd never seen this one before, but in it, Kramer was renting out drawers in his bedroom bureau to stranded Japanese tourists. He watched as Kramer tucked them into their makeshift beds, wishing them a good night's sleep. I can't sleep in a drawer! Are beds really that small there? He hit the Internet and checked the address that Sampson had written down for him. He was astonished at how wonderful it seemed. The apartment, located in the neighborhood of Akasaka (Red Hill in English) in the Minato-ku district, was right near his new office, and two blocks from the American Embassy. According to the blogs he read, foreigners gravitated toward this area because of its international supermarkets. Almost everybody spoke English. During the day, it was a hard-working business area. At night, its restaurant and clubs ensured a busy evening, as well. Weekends, according to his research were much quieter, because the working men went to their own neighborhoods. The ancient streets featured some geisha houses, which tickled him. He wondered if there were gay ones. How far was it from the gay district? And what was it called, anyway? He checked. Shinjuku Ni-ch?me. Popularly known as Nich?. Now that looked really cool. Saunas, coffee shops, bars. Beautiful men. As long as he could escape into solitude each full moon, he'd be fine. I think I could live there. He studied the apartment building. The Akasaka Tower building was so tall it made him dizzy looking at him. This ain't no mustang ranch, sport. He took a deep breath. He was able to view an apartment via virtual tour. It looked very modern and clean, with granite countertops in the kitchen and surprisingly huge windows overlooking the city. The bedroom looked big enough. It sure beat the heck out of being unemployed. He eyed the time on his VCR/DVD player. Ten fifteen P.M. On the TV, as Jerry and Elaine acted shocked about Kramer renting the Japanese tourists his bedroom drawers, Kramer defended himself by saying, "Have you ever seen the business hotels in Tokyo? They sleep in tiny stacked cubicles all the time! They feel right at home!" He sighed at the racist overtones to the plotline. Maybe this was his opportunity to offer his input into ikkun olan. Maybe he could help in some way make a contribution to repairing the world. Mo picked up the phone and called Jonathan Sampson. He wasn't surprised when the man answered. "I'm in," was all Mo said. And then he started to pack.

Purchase

Torquere Press

Meet the Author

  A.J. Llewellyn A.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels. A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.

  D.J. Manly I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't written and told stories. When I'm not writing, I'm dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.  

  Social Media Links:

Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/A.J.-Llewellyn/e/B002DBJBC2

  Facebook: 
www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn
 www.facebook.com/dante.manly

  Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/ajllewellyn

  Twitter:
 www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn
 www.twitter.com/djnovels

  Website:
 www.ajllewellyn.com
 www.djmanlyfiction.com

Giveaway

Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy or a signed paperback copy of Love off the Radar.

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blogging with DJ Manly

Much Ado About Nothing: labelling fiction in the gay/male-male genre

By D.J. Manly

When Bethann invited me to blog…(and I know…I know…I’m becoming a real blog whore); I asked myself what I’d blog about. Then I remembered seeing all this stuff recently about male/male versus gay fiction and I just couldn’t resist. Now don’t get me wrong, I believe strongly in the power of language…hell…I craft words for living and I’m all in favour of political correctness when it comes to human rights…but I sincerely think that this male/male versus gay labelling is Much Ado About Nothing (thanks Will!)

            So far this is what I understand…apparently, male/male is considered to be kind of fluffy romance, while Gay is “real serious literature.” Umm. I even understand the motive behind this in a strange sort of way. I believe it’s all born out of some inherent inferiority complex about the genre we write in. Marginalization comes quickly to mind, outside the mainstream. I’m all for reinventing the wheel if it’s empowering and makes good sense.

            What do I mean by marginalization? Well, everyone knows that many erotica writers have written under pen names. Anne Rice comes to mind…but now even her vampire stuff seems to have become an embarrassment…but I digress. So, yeah, you don’t discuss your latest book with your great aunt Judie who plays organ in the church because she’d probably be scandalized (maybe she’d surprise you!). Now, add “gay” to your list of descriptors and you again narrow down the list of people you feel comfortable discussing your books with. For some writers, they fear backlash, for others, they don’t hide what they write, but they don’t spread it around either. They know about homophobia and ignorance. We all know about that. 

            It’s not surprising to me that we would search for a way to create a hierarchy within this genre. We can boost our own egos a little and claim … I write GAY literature…not that fluffy, insignificant male/male stuff. We can imagine it’s like comparing good old William to someone’s first attempt at a cheesy bodice ripper. It’s a way to pat ourselves on the back for a job well done when we are seriously short on hands. I get it. I get it. But to me….it’s off target.

            I’ve said this often in interviews and I will say it again just for the record: I look forward to the day when these damn labels of gay, male/male or whatever it’s listed as, disappears altogether. The fact that “straight” stuff doesn’t require labels speaks volumes to me. When books are divided simply by real genres such as romance, science fiction, horror, etc…then…maybe… I will begin to think that we’ve evolved as a species. Until then, it’s irrelevant to me if you say your books are “gay” or “male/male.” If you feel better saying you write ‘gay,” go for it.

            If you really want to set up elitist divisions in this genre, then separate books that are well written and deserve the label of literature, and those that are okay…I am using diplomacy here…not well written enough to be published. That’s one label I would support. It’s not what we call ourselves that ‘cheapens’ our genre, it’s the fact that some writers, who previously wrote straight, are now writing ‘gay’ because they’ve heard it sells better. And the fact is, they’re not very good at it. Hell, some have told me that they don’t even like it…and believe me, it shows.

            So before we get up on our diva platforms and say….”I write gay, not that other stuff…”let me suggest that we concentrate on writing well written stories about characters who love one another…whatever sex they might be…and make them so damn good, those people who thought they’d never pick up a book where the two main characters are called Mike and Jeff….email you to say …this is no different from when Harry met Sally…except for the equipment. That’s all I want…to make this world a little better, to put all love on an equal playing field.  And if you want to call what I write Gay…gee thanks…but if you insist its fluffy male/male stuff…well…damn it, I’ll try and write better!!!! (Grumble, grumble)  But you know in the end all I really want you to say…is…D.J…..that was a damn good story! 

Anyway, come visit me at www.djmanlyfiction.com