The Artistic Endeavor Blog Tour Continues...

The Artistic Endeavor blog tour is at Hearts on Fire Reviews today. Check out the excerpt and the Rafflecopter giveaway!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow's stop: JP Barnaby!

Here's What's on the Blog Tour Schedule

The blog tour for Artistic Endeavor kicks off today. Here's what's going on this week:
BLOG TOUR SCHEDULE
Week 1: Jan 5th – Joyfully Jay
Jan 6th – Hearts on Fire
Jan 7th – J. P. Barnaby
Jan 8th – MM Good Book Reviews
                Andrew Q. Gordon
Jan 9th – The Novel Approach

There will be more stops over the next month! Prizes galore.

Sneak Peek--the Brand New Bonus Material in Artistic Endeavor

On Wednesday, Artistic Endeavor will release as a standalone. There's a bonus of 3600 words. You may have seen the first part of Cobey and Michael's New Year's Eve, but no one has seen what happens on the other side of Midnight. Here's a taste of Happy New Year!

“Oh my God, Michael.” Cobey turned in a circle, taking in the room. Rich carpet in warm colors, a sitting area with a couch and chairs covered in indigo velvet, and a picture window with a view of the river, sparkling with lights in a spectrum from white to gold to blue. Taking center stage in the room was a king-sized bed. The creamy sheets were turned down, and a foil-covered chocolate sat on each pillow. The whole place smelled of cinnamon and pine.

“Like it?” Michael hugged him from behind.

Cobey turned to face him and wound his arms around Michael’s neck. “I love it. But you shouldn’t have.”

“Anything for you.” Michael’s smile gleamed in the low light. “Champagne?”

There had been champagne downstairs, too. “Maybe just one glass.”

Michael kissed him on the neck and pulled Cobey toward the sofa. The bubbly sat in an ice bucket, uncorked and ready to go—just like in the movies. Michael poured half a flute for each of them and handed one glass to Cobey.

“To us.” Michael’s voice had gotten a bit rough. “May this New Year’s Eve be the first of many.”

“To us.” What else could he say? “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Michael’s blue eyes crinkled. “Ditto.”

Cobey clinked his glass against Michael’s with a musical ching. They locked gazes and each took a sip. The bubbles tickled Cobey’s tongue, but Michael’s frank gaze had tickled lower parts. Sensitive parts. Cobey set his champagne on the table. “I…I’d like to try out the bed now.”

~*~

 

Want to see what happens next? Check out Artistic Endeavor on January 7th. It's available for preorder at Amazon and ARE . 

 

New Year's Eve Morsel--Cobey and Michael from Artistic Endeavor

New Year’s Eve Morsel—Cobey and Michael from Artistic Endeavor

“You’re not dressed.” Michael put his hands on his hips.

Cobey scrunched lower in the couch and stared at his book. “I don’t want to go.”

Crap. Michael’s better half was wearing jeans—not the party kind—and a Christmas green sweater. A cup of cocoa sat on the table next to him. The scent of chocolate and peppermint Schnapps wafted over.

“I thought we agreed: you would choose the Christmas Eve activity, and I would choose the New Year’s Eve plans.”

Cobey flipped the book face down on the arm of the sofa and met Michael’s gaze. “Yeah. But I didn’t think you’d choose a sushi bar followed by Stork’s party and then Turbulence.”

Oookay. “Something going on here I don’t know about?”

“That place is a meat market. Turbulence, I mean. It smells of alcohol and sex and man sweat. That’s not the kind of atmosphere I want for a special time.”

“Oh.” It was kind of smelly. Before Cobey, Michael had considered those aromas to be an appetizer. Admittedly, he hadn’t been there in months, but Turbulence really knew how to throw a party. Michael sank onto the couch. “I wanted to go dancing. And live it up a little while you’re on break from the university.”

Cobey sighed. “I know. I just…it should be memorable. In a good way.”

Memorable equaled romantic. Like in front of the fountain at the university a couple of weeks ago. Like going caroling on Christmas Eve and then coming home to spend time with friends and feast on homemade Christmas cookies. Like a late night present exchange followed by making love in the glow of the Christmas tree lights.

Ah, yes, romance.

There had been a time when Michael would have laughed off all of that and opted for a holly-jolly one-night stand. But that was before Cobey.

Michael scooted closer. “What would you like to do?”

“You make the plan. Just something that we’ll always remember.”

“Any ideas?”

Cobey leaned in and pressed their mouths together. It made Michael warm inside, the taste of hot chocolate and peppermint and Cobey. “You know what I like.”

Great. Obviously Michael was on his own. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Cobey grinned.

~*~

Cobey couldn’t see a thing. “Is the blindfold really necessary? I feel weird.”

“You look great.” A grin tinted Michael’s words.

After Michael had disappeared, Cobey had wondered if he’d return wearing jeans and announce they were staying in. Cobey wasn’t the best at speaking up about what he wanted. Probably ridiculous not to offer an alternative when he’d shot down Michael’s plans. But Turbulence—yeesh. The place would be packed; the crowd would be drunk. The groping would be rampant.

Maybe Michael was taking him to the movies. There were a few Cobey wanted to see, and that’d be cozy. Afterward they could have a drink at that new English pub downtown. Or the Museum of Natural History had a sort of highbrow champagne dinosaur tour. Or…the college had a “Winter Wonderland” sculpture garden walk, complete with bubbly or hot buttered rum.

The car slowed, turned. “Almost there. Keep the blindfold on.”

“Are we someplace people are going to see me like this?”

 

Michael laughed. “Nope. Hang tight while I park.”

The window hummed as it lowered. Cold air poured into the car, carrying the smell of exhaust. A ka-ching, a snap, and they moved forward. Cobey shivered. Probably headed for a movie at that vintage theater downtown. What had been playing there? A romantic comedy, maybe.

The car turned, stopped. Cobey reached for the blindfold and Michael grabbed his wrist. “Not yet, not yet, not yet, my son.”

 

Cobey smirked.  

“ I’ll come around and get you.”

This was unique; Cobey had to give Michael props for that.

The door opened. Michael gripped his forearm. “Pivot and step out. Watch your head.”

A leather-covered palm curled around Cobey’s neck and then into his hair. Gingerly Cobey stood, clutching Michael’s elbow. “Can I take it off now?”

“I’ll let you know when.” Michael’s arm wrapped around Cobey’s waist and pulled him forward. The car door slammed. “Let me guide you, okay?”

“I don’t want to run into anyone I know like this.” Cobey ducked his head. This was getting a little extreme, now that they’d arrived.

“I won’t let that happen.”

Cobey snorted. “No way to avoid it, I’d say.”

“Do you trust me?”

During the summer, trust had been their watchword. Cobey had trusted Michael to teach him the ropes of intimacy, and Michael had never pushed, never broken his word.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

“Then c’mon.”

They strolled–at Cobey’s speed—across the space. Their footsteps echoed, and there was the idle of an engine in the distance. The smell of concrete and mud and melting snow got stronger as they made their way.

Must be a movie.

Then why dress up? At home, following a mysterious thirty minute interval, Michael had waltzed into the living room. He cut a dashing figure wearing a black long-sleeved T-shirt, black pants, and a charcoal jacket. Cobey had whistled, and Michael had sent him upstairs with the caveat to wear what Michael had laid out.

Black pants, black long-sleeved Tee, dark pin-striped jacket. White silk briefs.

He could feel the slide right now if he concentrated on it. So soft. And Michael hadn’t gotten to enjoy them—

“Stop.” Michael’s arm tightened. “We’re at an elevator.”

“Ah. Can I take it off?”

“So impatient. Soon, I promise.”

“I don’t want a bunch of people on the street to see this.” Cobey waved a hand in front of his face.

“Mmm.” Michael nuzzled Cobey’s ear. “No worries.”

The air pressure changed and Michael tugged him forward. “Straight ahead three steps.”

Cobey hesitated. The game was getting old. This was too much cloak and dagger to attend a movie. Or…was there some solve-the-mystery thing downtown? That might be fun.

“There’s no one in the elevator, Cobe. C’mon. Almost there.”

“Okay.” He shuffled his way forward. The doors closed them in. There was a hint of floral perfume in the space. Lips nibbled along his jaw, and then Michael kissed him on the lips. And again. Cobey smiled and reached for him, teasing with a bit of tongue.

Michael pulled away. “We better stop.”

“Are we almost there?”

“Yep.” The car slowed, stopped. “Now.”

Cobey slid off the blindfold, tucked it in his jacket, and squinted at the lights. Now what? The doors slid open. Cobey’s jaw dropped. Oh my God, Michael. What did you do? He turned to Michael.

Michael had a huge grin. “Yeah?”

“I…you…wow.” Cobey exited the elevator, Michael at his side.

It was bright, but a different kind of bright; an elegant bright, the kind borne of dozens of tiny lights. Cobey directed his attention upward. And no wonder. There was a giant chandelier illuminating the area. And what an area. The space rose high above, a giant atrium. Richly patterned carpet in shades of navy, purple, and cream stretched ahead, punctuated by a round table bearing a vase of white roses which scented the air. Marble pillars, a mezzanine with arched openings, and wrought iron railings. And everywhere gold and silver: balloons, streamers, confetti, all gilded.

A band played somewhere.

It was amazing and daunting and delicious all at once. 

“Michael…you brought me to the Palace?” Guilt poked at Cobey. This place cost a fortune, and they were on a budget. Assistant art professors didn’t make much, and neither did self-employed graphic artists.

“You like it?” Michael ran a hand up and down Cobey’s back.

“I love it. But it’s so pricey.”

“Ah. But look what I have.” Michael reached inside his jacket, pulled out two tickets, and handed them to Cobey.

The heavy card featured a drawing of a man in a gold mask, wearing a wicked smile while another masked man shown in profile kissed him on the cheek. The sketch was rendered in gold on a black background. Below the figures it said:

Admit One

Figlio New Year’s Gala 2014

~at~

The Palace

Who was Figlio, and why did Michael have tickets to Figlio’s Gala? “Where did you get these?”

Michael’s eyebrows rose. “Do you not recognize the drawing? I’m no art professor, but it turned out well, I think.”

Oh. Yeah. The original drawing had been graphite on white. “You designed this.”

“Guilty as charged.” Michael put one hand on his chest and took a slight bow. “Mr. Figlio was so happy he invited me to his party.”

“You never mentioned it.”

Michael’s smile faded and he pulled Cobey into an alcove occupied by a confetti-strewn white

buffalo sculpture. “I…didn’t think you’d want to go.”

“Why?” No way. No. Way. “This is a work event?”

Michael shook his head and leaned in. Against Cobey’s ear he said, “It’s a private party. Mr. Figlio owns Escalade Underwear.”

“That expensive brand that caters to…” Cobey swallowed. “To gay men?”

“The very same. In fact you’re wearing a pair from the new line.”

The briefs seemed to caress him and he shivered. “Thank you.”

There was a sharp nip on his ear. Cobey sucked in a breath. “Mr. Figlio is gay, Cobe. We can dance and drink champagne and kiss at midnight.”

That did sound good. Cobey pulled back and gazed into Michael’s eyes. “Lead on, Captain my Captain.”

~*~

The dancing was the best part. Michael snuggled Cobey against his chest for a slow dance. It felt so good to be in an atmosphere where no one batted an eye about men with men. The big band music was more fun than the teeth-rattling boom-boom-boom of club music. No one had shed their clothes. The restroom had an attendant and was nicer than most living rooms. No screwing in the bathroom.

Not a problem. Cobey seemed in heaven. He hadn’t been the typical shy professor tonight. Maybe it was the comfort of the circumstance, or maybe Cobey had sneaked a second flute of champagne. Whatever it was, he’d been animated and charming with Mr. Figlio and guests.

“Michael…” Cobey spoke low, against Michael’s shoulder.

He spun them and began moving them toward the tables. “What?”

“You are amazing.”

Michael laughed. Must be the champagne talking. “Mmm.”

“No really. I’m serious.” Cobey pulled back and gripped Michael’s shoulders. “This is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had. The first celebration I’ve ever had.”

Michael stopped dancing. “Seriously?”

“Yep. There was never a suitable party for me to attend.” He gave a shy smile. “And who wants to kiss a girl at midnight?”

“Gentlemen, and gentlemen.” The voice came from in front of the band. Mr. Figlio stood there with a glass. “It’s nearly time. Grab your drink and your man.”

Michael grabbed Cobey’s hand and they hustled to retrieve champagne from one of the waiters.

“Ten, nine…”

“Thank you,” Cobey whispered, eyes wide.

“Eight, seven…”

“You’re welcome.” Michael pulled Cobey in.

“Six, five…”

“This is romantic,” Cobey breathed.

Bingo. Michael grinned.

“And you are so getting laid.”

“Four, three…”

“Good thing I have a room upstairs,” Michael murmured in Cobey’s ear.

“Two, one…Happy New Year!”

Noisemakers rattled and horns blared around them. Michael pressed their mouths together. “Happy New Year,” he said, voice sultry and low.

“It is,” Cobey said with a grin. “The best.”

~*~

 Happy New Year, everyone. Thanks for a great 2014, and here's to a fabulous 2015.

~Whitley Gray

 

Cover Reveal for Artistic Endeavor

Some of you may have read the anthology/bundle Campus Cravings. Nine authors, each with a novella set on the fictional Cathia University campus.
As of midnight on December 31st, Campus Cravings will cease to exist.
But, not to fear...
My story in that anthology--Artistic Endeavor--will become available as a standalone in January. It has a lovely new cover by the talented Diana Carlile, and I wanted to share that here.
Several other stories will also become available as standalones--each with its own unique cover. Check them out at your favorite ebook seller.

Christmas Morsel #3: Jeff and Ash from Rabbit Wars

This month I'm posting a series of holiday vignettes, featuring characters from my books. Christmas morsels--bite-size scenes of the season. This is Jeff and Ash from Rabbit Wars...

 

Christmas Morsel #3

 

“A little more to the left.”

Jeff eyed Ash. They’d been at this for over thirty minutes. The tang of evergreen filled his nose. “You just said a little more to the right.”

“You overcorrected.” Ash grinned. “Now it needs a bit to the left.”

“I’m sure there’s a carpenter’s level in the construction zone.” Which was pretty much the entire second floor of the house. The formal sitting room was one of the few places in the Rabbit mansion that had undergone restoration.

“You want me to hold the tree?”

“I don’t think I can let go.” Pine sap had glued Jeff’s fingers to the trunk. Spruce needles poked through his sweater, generating a tickle and itch.

“A little more to the left, then.” Ash motioned with one hand.

Jeff tilted the tree.

“Stop. Right there.” Ash strode over and ducked down to tighten the tree stand. He straightened, a few stray needles in his hair. “Let go.”

Jeff let go as Ash crossed the room. Golden sap and bits of bark stuck to Jeff’s fingers. “Is it straight?”

“It’s perfect,” Ash said. He had that beatific smile on his face—the one that made Jeff feel like the king of the world. “Just like in a magazine.”

Giving an answering grin, Jeff joined Ash on the other side of the room. It was pretty cozy. Two of the walls were papered in gold- and wine-striped silk, and the other two were bare plaster. Ash had insisted on halting the work for the holiday. Ash had lovingly restored the oak fireplace mantel and hung wine-colored velvet stockings, one for each of them. A fire crackled in the hearth, giving warmth to the high-ceilinged space. Above the mantel a beveled mirror reflected the room. The hardwood floor gleamed around the edges of the Persian rug.

“It does look good.” Jeff wrapped an arm around Ash’s waist and pulled him in for a kiss. “You have a good eye.”

“I have a good memory for what it looked like when we were kids.” Ash put his arms around Jeff. He smelled good, like citrus and fresh-cut grass.  “I think Dalton would approve.”

“I think he would.”

Dalton Rabbit had left the Rabbit estate jointly to Jeff and Ash, with the caveat they had to work together to restore the house. Between Jeff’s architecture background and Ash’s intuitive knack for decorating, they were making slow progress. Years of neglect had left the house in need of a generous dose of TLC.

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Ready for a treat before we decorate the tree?”

“And what would that be?”

“A dessert wine and dark chocolate truffles with raspberry and quince.”

Jeff’s mouth watered. Ash created the best chocolates on the face of the earth. “Sounds like Santa Claus made an early delivery.”

Ash led the way to the sofa. “Santa has nothing on me when it comes to chocolate.”

Jeff dropped onto the couch and pulled Ash down beside him. The firelight danced over Ash’s pale hair, highlighting his Scandinavian good looks.

“I’m glad we’re home,” Ash said.

“If it weren’t for this house, would we have ever gotten back together?”

“Yes,” Ash answered promptly.

Jeff chuckled. “How can you be so sure?”

“I moved back here.” Ash moved closer, ice-blue eyes intense. That frenetic energy radiated off him, like waves of heat. “I knew it was just a matter of time before you came back too.”

“If it weren’t for the will—”

“The will has nothing to do with it.”

“Really.”

“It was Fate. The cosmos wanted us together.” Ash spoke with certainty. “It was set in motion when we first met.”

That had been a lot of years ago. Nearly sixteen, in fact. A year ago Jeff never could have imagined himself sitting in the front parlor of the Rabbit Mansion with Ash. “It’s too bad the upstairs rooms aren’t finished. We could stay here.”

“We are staying here.”

“With the mice and the bats?” The upstairs was…rustic. To put it mildly.

“No, down here.” Ash’s smile glinted in the firelight. “I brought the air mattress and blankets. It’ll be just like camping out.”

“C’mere.” Jeff pulled him in for a kiss. And another.

“What about the wine and chocolate?”

“Later.” Jeff kissed him again.    

 

Christmas Morsel #2: Beck and Zach from High Concept

This month I'm posting a series of holiday vignettes, featuring characters from my books. Christmas morsels--bite-size scenes of the season. This is Beck and Zach from High Concept…

Christmas Morsel #2

Beck slouched on the sofa, watching It’s a Wonderful Life. Two days before Christmas, and Denver had unseasonably warm temperatures and not a hint of snow. Didn’t feel very Christmassy, especially with only two fingers of bourbon for company.

Zach was late. Any minute he might call to say he couldn’t get away, that some case had heated up and kept him out in the field.

A key rattled in the lock. Beck jumped up and opened the door to a surprised Zach, who grinned and said, “Hey! You’re home!” 

“I am.” Beck’s heart gave a little skip at that gorgeous smile. Beautiful and happy and all his. He tugged Zach inside, dragging in cold air and closed the door. “You made it.”

In answer Zach dropped his duffel bag and pulled him in, hot mouth covering Beck’s and tasting of mint. After not seeing each other for three weeks, it was easy to enter into the spirit of things. Dueling tongues and bodies pressed together.  

They broke for air, and Zach said, “Merry Christmas.”

“It will be, now that you’re here.”

Zach chuckled, pulled off his coat, and draped it over the back of an overstuffed chair. “Want to get me a drink?”

“Coming right up.”

“Where’s the tree?” Zach looked around Beck’s apartment as if Beck had hidden a decorated spruce somewhere.

It hadn’t crossed his mind that Zach might want—expect—a tree. Of course Zach had grown up with a more normal childhood, where a Christmas tree would be commonplace. “I…there is no tree.”

 “What do you mean, no Christmas tree?” Zach looked like the Grinch had just stolen his Christmas.

Beck winced. As a kid, there hadn’t been money for frivolities like Christmas trees. After he was on his own, Beck had never bothered with a tree. Christmas was just another day. Hence, no tree.

 

Sometimes it was hard to predict what Zach expected. New relationship learning curve at work, Stryker. “I’m never sure if you’ll make it when we plan to be together, and I didn’t need a tree…just for me.”

Zach opened his mouth, closed it.

Was Zach mad? Frustrated? Had Beck blown it utterly and completely by forgoing a tree? He'd wanted this to be perfect, and now...no tree. No decorations of any kind. No manifestation of holiday spirit. His gut clenched. Beck looked away from that intense blue gaze.

In a blink Zach was across the room and Beck found himself taken in strong arms. He responded in kind, drawing Zach to him. The now-familiar smell of Zach’s lemongrass aftershave soothed Beck's nerves.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more reliable,” Zach whispered. “The job tends to be unpredictable.”

Understatement of the decade. In two months, Zach had had to cancel more rendezvouses than he‘d attended. Thanksgiving had ended up a solo holiday. So Beck had looked forward to Christmas, hoping against hope that Zach could break away. A tree would have been a glaring reminder if Zach had cancelled yet again.

 

Beck buried his face in the crook of Zach’s neck. “I know. But it’s what you do. You’re good at it.”

Zach pulled back and gestured between them. “I want this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Beck understood wanting to be together and having it happen weren’t the same. They’d known going in, the long-distance thing wouldn’t be easy. Knowing it was a finite period of time had made it tolerable when Zach left Denver in October and returned to Minneapolis. Beck hadn’t counted on just how tough Zach’s job might make things.

Beck rubbed his palms on Zach’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a tree.”

“I don’t need a tree, as long as I have you.” Zach’s eyes were full of humor.

“Oh, you have me all right.” That had been true practically from the time they’d gotten reacquainted in October. After some initial antagonism over the case, fireworks had flown and ignited a spine-melting heat between them.

“In that case, want to open presents?”

“But it’s not Christmas for another two days.” And he hadn’t wrapped Zach’s gift yet.

With a slow smile Zach said, “Tonight, you’re my present.”

Now that was a Christmas sentiment Beck could get on board with. He grinned. "Then by all means, let the unwrapping begin."