Read on for the blurb and a HOT excerpt!

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The weakness he fears could be his lover’s only hope.

(Mother Earth, book 2)

Bear has never regretted leaving his old life behind for his exotically beautiful lover, Dragon. Following his heart, though, has left them in need of a home. There’s only one place he can think of where they can be together and be happy. Shenandoah. A place of myth—until he encounters signs that it’s a real place that lies somewhere to the north.

Danger lurks in the wilderness, the ruined cities of the lost Old World, and especially within themselves. As Bear’s quest for a new home becomes a spirit journey of mystical power, Dragon doubts his own strength—an unbearable shame he tries to hide deep within. But when a chance encounter turns into a fight for survival, Bear’s life depends on Dragon’s ability to put his doubts aside…and dare to hope.

(Warning: This book contains knife fights, cannibals, mysterious ruins, and dirty sex between warrior men)

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© Copyright 2010 Ally Blue
Read chapter one on my website.
Buy the book here.

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Excerpt:

Bear plopped onto the blanket beside him and nudged his shoulder. “Here.”

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Dragon took the chunk of fire-roasted rabbit from the wooden skewer Bear held. He popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Bear tore open a fig and scraped out the meat with his teeth, watching Dragon the whole time. “How’re you feeling?”

“Much better.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Dragon fought down a spike of mingled irritation and shame at the unabated worry in Bear’s eyes. Taking another chunk of rabbit, he tore off a strip with his fingers. “Bear, I’m all right now. I really am.” He tucked the meat into his mouth.

“Okay. Good.” Bear gave him a lopsided smile and hunched over to slurp up the rest of his fig.

Dragon finished his hunk of rabbit, then reached for a fig and made himself eat it, but he had no appetite. All he could think was, This might be the last time I’ll sit beside a campfire with Bear. The last time we’ll eat figs and fresh rabbit together while the stars shine.

A sharp ache twisted deep in his chest. Closing his eyes, he lifted his face to the cool wind. The night air brought the smells of grass and wood smoke, the pop and crackle of the fire, and the endless whisper of the meadow. Something about it made him want to walk out into that swaying green sea, lie down at its heart and sleep until the world forgot he’d ever existed.

The thought was as frightening as it was seductive. He opened his eyes. Bear was staring at him with a thoughtful gaze.

Dragon hunched his shoulders. “What?”

“You tell me.” Bear tossed a rabbit bone into the fire. “Your mind’s been somewhere else ever since the river, and it’s not just because you’ve felt bad. What’s wrong?”

Dragon stared deep into Bear’s eyes. He saw the ever-present concern, but behind that, a belief as wide and solid as the earth beneath them. Nobody had ever looked at him with such unquestioning faith before, not even his Brothers, and as simple as that, his decision was made.

He would stay with Bear, whatever happened.

Sarge would tell him he was willfully endangering his Pack. That he’d brought unforgivable shame upon himself. But Bear wouldn’t see it that way. To Bear, the only shame would be in giving up, and Bear was his pack now. He would prove to Bear that he was worthy of that honor, no matter what it took.

Throwing the empty fig skin he still held into the flames, Dragon turned to face Bear. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

“About my old Pack, and how different they are from your old Pack, and from you.” Dragon wound two long blades of grass around his fingers. “I’m sorry you had to leave your tribe for me.”

Bear was shaking his head before Dragon finished the sentence. “You’re still sun-addled. Leaving Carwin was my choice. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” Dragon shook his head and stared into the fire again. He wished words came easier to him. He didn’t have the right vocabulary to express the confusing mix of things he felt and thought Bear ought to know. Like how he felt responsible for Bear’s current situation even though he knew it had been Bear’s decision. Or how he wished Bear had never had to leave his home and his Pack, yet at the same time thanked the Mother every morning and every night that he had.

“Hey. Listen to me.” Bear laid a palm on Dragon’s cheek, forcing him to turn his head and meet Bear’s stern gaze. “It was my choice. Mine, and no one else’s. You might have given me the final push I needed to make it, but you didn’t make it for me. This was my decision, and no one can take that away from me. Not even you.”

Dragon nodded. He wanted to protest that he wasn’t trying to claim actual credit for Bear’s choices, but he knew better than to say any such thing at that point. When Bear’s voice took on that particular note of command, you didn’t argue. You shut up and agreed with whatever Bear said.

He let out a surprised yelp when Bear’s big hands closed around his upper arms and pulled. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he was dragged across Bear’s lap. He struggled, but he may as well have been a child in Bear’s hands for all the good it did.

He met Bear’s glare with one of his own. “What—?”

A bruising and thoroughly unexpected kiss cut him off and startled him into stillness. He obediently parted his lips for Bear’s tongue.

“We’re Pack now,” Bear whispered when the kiss broke. One hand uncurled from around Dragon’s arm to grasp his chin none too gently. “You and me.”

Bear’s eyes burned with something that made Dragon’s pulse thunder in his ears. He swallowed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

A wide grin lit up Bear’s face. “See, that’s why we were already Brothers before we even met. We think alike.” Bear’s hand slid off Dragon’s chin and down his chest to the front of his pants. A swift tug undid the leather laces. “Take them off.”

The thought of disobeying didn’t even cross Dragon’s mind. He kicked off his moccasins and worked his pants down over his hips with Bear’s help. His cock was already half-hard, just from the raw lust in Bear’s eyes.

Tossing the pants aside, Bear hauled Dragon up to straddle his lap. Dragon lifted up enough to let Bear loosen his laces. “I thought you were going to lick me.” He fished Bear’s cock out of the gap in his pants and closed his fingers around the shaft. It stiffened in his palm.

“Another time.” Bear managed to wriggle his buckskins halfway down his thighs. He leaned sideways to shove his free hand into his bag. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out the small glass bottle of oil. He nudged Dragon’s chest with it. “Pour.”

Taking the bottle, Dragon uncorked it with his teeth, drizzled the bare minimum needed into Bear’s palm, then replaced the cork. “We’re either going to have to fuck less or find a way to make more oil soon. That bottle’s only three quarters full.” He set it on the ground.

“I know.” Bear’s big fingers slicked Dragon’s hole. “Shut up.”

Dragon opened his mouth to wonder aloud where they might find the right kinds of plants, and how they were supposed to press the oil from them. Then Bear spread him open and breached him with one swift upward thrust, and he forgot all about talking. Digging his hands into Bear’s shoulders for purchase, he slammed himself down onto Bear’s cock with all his strength. Bear’s oil-coated fingers slipped from Dragon’s butt to his hipbones and dug in with painful force.

Dragon rocked his pelvis, but the angle wasn’t right. Growling, he planted both palms on Bear’s chest and shoved. Bear fell backward with a grunt. Dragon rode him down, hole clamped around his cock to keep him lodged deep inside.

Bear let out a low groan. Behind him, Dragon felt Bear’s legs bend. Dragon barely had time to brace his thighs against Bear’s sides before Bear’s cock slid partway out of him, then drove back in so hard his teeth clacked together. A thin pain sliced the inside of his cheek, and he tasted blood.

On the next thrust, Dragon leaned back a little, and oh Mother that did it. Bear’s solid length dragged over the spot inside him that always lit a hot spark low in his gut. He cried out, the flesh pebbling along his arms and up his spine.

For once, Bear didn’t silence him with a kiss or a glare, or a hand over his mouth. Instead, he brushed an oddly reverent touch across Dragon’s lips before curving a palm around the side of his thigh. The other hand remained on his hip, holding him in place astride Bear’s groin.

Bear’s harsh grunts, Dragon’s sharp cries and the wet slurp of Bear’s cock pistoning in and out of him mingled with the rustle of the grass in the wind. The amber glow of Bear’s eyes in the moonlight burned all thoughts of guilt, weakness or shame right out of Dragon’s brain. He clung to Bear with hands and legs and lost himself in the wild joy of fucking under the vast night sky.

Surprisingly, I realized that I actually felt just as feminine in the dusty, steel toed boots I was wearing at the moment. Exhibit A, for your consideration:

My crit partners will probably all nod and smile when I say this but I’m actually very girly. I love to wear skirts and I own more jewelry than most of my friends combined. I don’t wear heels very often, but I very much appreciate the sight of a pretty lady in a pair of gorgeous heels LOL!

But, I couldn’t figure out why I felt feminine in my steel toes. Until I realized that whenever I wear my work boots, it signals that I’m heading to a job site… and most of the people I meet at the companies I audit are men. It’s hard not to feel like a lady when you’re the only one around!

So, question time… is there something you wear, or somewhere you go, that makes you feel especially feminine? Or masculine?

This isn’t a long excerpt, just a quick look at when Rabin meets Izzy. And, yes, Brent would be Heaven Sent’s Brent Rose. Izzy’s Brent’s cousin.

Keep up to date with IK1: Squire here

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©2010 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

When Rabin finally found the gate with the number Brent had given him, he was fairly bouncing with excitement. This place was fucking unreal. He leaned out his window to press a button on a pad mounted in front of the gate.

“Hey, Rabin.” Brent’s voice was crystal clear.

“How’d you know it’s me?”

“Cameras everywhere.” Brent laughed as the gate in front of Rabin began to slide open. “Come on up. Front door’s open.”

Daylight was slowly fading to twilight as Rabin parked his truck beside a dusty black Corvette and a recently washed white Mazda under the shade of a spreading tree. Rabin knew fuck all what kind of tree it was, but it sure was pretty, matching many of the other trees that surrounded the house and the embankment that led down from the house to the water. The house itself was two levels and looked like a huge cabin, complete with all the rustic finishes. Gorgeous.

After hefting his guitar case and the largest of his three suitcases from the truck, he headed toward the front door and found it open as promised. “Hello?” He stopped at the threshold. Loud pop music and a truly heavenly scent of some sort of cooking poultry lead him to his right and what he thought might be the kitchen.

Kitchen it was, all done up in dark colors to match the rural feel of the exterior of the house. The appliances were state of the art, lining the wall to the left of the opening that led into the room as well as the wall in front of Rabin. A huge island dominated the center of the room, complete with copper pots hanging above it. A four-seater table was built into a huge bay window overlooking the lake to Rabin’s right.

There was a young man who was very obviously not either Brent or Hell busy at the sink, his back to Rabin. He was on the short side, closer to Hell’s diminutive height than he was to either Brent’s or Rabin’s size. His hair was shining black, pulled into a tail that hung in gentle waves halfway down his back. He was singing and jiggling to the music, shaking slim shoulders, a trim waist, and a pert little ass. Reaching the chorus of the song, he belted out in a very nice if slightly off-key tenor. Tugging a towel from where it hung at the waistband of his jeans, he turned around, eyes closed as he sang into an imaginary microphone. Rabin grinned, enjoying the show. The kid was incredibly pretty. A softly rounded jaw and high cheekbones gave his face a gorgeous shape, and a long, thick fringe of that black hair hid his forehead, brows, and part of his eyes. Seen from the front, his snug, lime green T-shirt proclaimed Straight? So is spaghetti until you heat it up. Once the chorus was done, his dusky pink lips curled up in a smile and his eyes opened. Amazing eyes. Big and almond shaped, with irises as dark as chocolate bonbons and lashes any woman would die for.

Finally seeing Rabin, the young man stopped, eyes and mouth open wide in surprise. “Oh. Hi.”

Rabin felt like applauding but didn’t, since he still held his bags. “Hi.”

The kid’s mouth closed and his throat worked over a swallow while an embarrassed flush colored softly rounded cheeks. “You must be Rabin.” Tucking the towel back into his waistband, the young man hastily circled around the island toward him. One hand extended to go with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m Izzy.”

Naturally, an itty bitty baby plot bunny was birthed when I heard this. (Come on, you knew I was gonna say that. Don’t pretend you didn’t.) Not even a whole bunny, really. More of an embryo. And I’m not sure it would make a very good book. Maybe a spec-fic short story. But listen. What if a person had the power to actually live an entire life within that moment of life-and-death crisis? I’m not sure what the actual story would be, the idea of being able to do that just popped into my head and stuck there.

Has anyone done a story with that plot before? I like sci-fi, but there’s no way even the biggest fan can read EVERY book out there. Just because I haven’t read this particular tale before doesn’t mean no one’s ever done it. I’m curious, though. If someone’s written it, I’d like to read it. If no one has yet, well… I always say sci-fi needs more romance and gay sex in it O_O

This first one is at 7:30 am:

And this is taken at midnight on the dot:

The only way I could make sure I had the pictures the right way was because the midnight picture shows the RCMP building with their outside lights on :)

And just so I could at least give you something beautiful to look at, here is a picture I took of the Igloo Church. It was gorgeous, inside and out!

Okay, so here’s the problem I have set for myself this time. Whenever I finish writing These Haunted Heights (which should be soon; I’m on the home stretch, I think…) I’m gonna start working on the next book in the Mother Earth series. Lynx’s story. I think I blogged about that already. Anyhow, part of that story is going to involve some sort of power source. So, I need to think of something that can produce power enough for a small-to-medium sized city. It needs to use relatively primitive means or be something that’s leftover from the old world and so self-sustaining that it’s still running after 250-300 years of no upkeep. Which seems unlikely to me, to be honest, so I’ll probably go with the first option and make it a power source the people of the city can keep up. I’m thinking possibly coal-fired or steam-powered, maybe. It can’t be wind or water for reasons that I can’t really go into here. But trust me. I can’t use wind or water.

Naturally, I know NOTHING, NOTHING AT ALL, about these things. Sigh. Why do I torture myself like this? Why can’t I ever just write about stuff I already know?
Answer: because then I’d never write anything but medical romances. Which, by the way, I have a desire of late to write one of. Yes, that sentence does TOO make sense! Read it again.

Oh well. I will ponder the power question and do some research while I’m finishing up THH. If anyone has any brainwaves, or knows where I might go to learn about power sources that might work, please feel free to share. Y’all were so incredibly helpful with the plants and stuff when I was writing Shenandoah, I even dedicated the book to you :)

I grew up watching the older show, and while I wasn’t as obsessed with it as my older sis was, it still had an affect on me growing up. For those of you who have never watched it, Degrassi is a Canadian show that follows the lives of teenagers in Toronto, Ontario. It had three series that aired from 1979 to 1991 and at the time it was pretty groundbreaking for its portrayal of things like suicide, racism, homosexuality and teen pregnancy. It’s won GLAAD awards for its portrayal of gay and lesbian characters.

The new Degrassi has been on air for 10 seasons now and I’ve watched it occasionally but this season is turning out to be the best yet because of two specific storylines that I’m in love with. The first is a homosexual relationship between Riley (a closeted athlete) and Zane (out and proud) and the second is about an FTM transgender named Adam. The coolest thing about this is that Adam is the very FIRST scripted transgender teen to appear as a series regular in television history. I can’t even begin to express how amazing Adam is as a character, and watching the interaction between Adam and everyone around him has been both wonderful and painful at times. I really hope they continue to focus on Adam and my not-so-secret inner romantic is hoping for a relationship in his future :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSSdUv_R0xI&feature=player_embedded#!

Today I go to a wedding. My cousin is getting married. I’m very happy for him. Met the bride for the first time last night. She seems great. I’ll admit that I don’t like weddings. Never really have. Having been in 8 of them in my life — none my own — I lost the appreciation of them. Especially since of the 8 weddings I was in, I think only one of those couples is still married today. But the bride and groom seemed happy and I always wish the best for the couple. It can and does work. I’m a romance writer after all so I can’t be too jaded, right?

Want to know what a pervy old woman I am? Is sad but I was enjoying myself by watching all the handsome young men in and around the bridal party. Oh my, were they something to look at. And they weren’t too terribly young — between 25-30 — so I didn’t even have to feel all that guilty. Bonus!

I’m here until Thursday. Hoping the sun and paradise atmosphere will provide some inspiration. Perhaps I should pray to Pele? Now there’s a classy goddess!