The Ravishing by D. J. Manly

Joe left the police force to set up his own private investigation agency after working homicide on a series of ten unsolved murders, the victims all young men who frequented the cafes during the Beat generation. The last victim, Joe’s lover at the time, hit too close to home. And just when Joe believed he was getting close to solving the case, the murders stopped.

Joe never expected to find the killer, so he left the police force, defeated. But now, four years later, a young man walks into Joe’s office with an interesting story about those murders, stories Joe can’t quite believe until he begins to see things more clearly.

Jeremy wants Joe’s help, he’s scared, and unless he can get Joe to believe him, the murders are going to start all over again. Yet the question remains—by whom?

Genres: Gay / Nostalgic Contemporary (1950s-Era) / Mystery / Detective / Suspense / Thriller / Paranormal
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (19k words)

Read a short excerpt...

...I grabbed a glass and emptied the rest of the bottle into it, deciding I’d close my eyes for a spell. The radio droned in the background. They were talking about Cuba and Castro, who was now at the helm. Guess I wouldn’t be smoking many Cuban cigars.

I didn’t hear anyone come in, so when I heard someone say my name real soft-like, my eyes flew open, I lowered my chair onto all four legs with a thud and put my hand on my gun.

The young man in my office looked as startled as I was. He backed into the corner and raised his hands. “Don’t…shoot me.”

When my pulse began to return to normal, I took a gander at the figure clinging to the wall. He looked like a kid around nineteen, but something told me he was older than that. He was pale, his blond hair almost scraping his slight shoulders, and as he propelled himself away from the wall and came forward, his large blue eyes had me reeling. I was a sucker for blue eyes.

“My name is Hanson, Jeremy Hanson.” He looked around as if someone were chasing him. He leaned forward. “Are we alone?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You look spooked. Have a seat.” I noticed his hands shaking. He clutched the arm of the chair as he lowered himself. I got up and poured him some water from the pitcher Doris had left on the sideboard. I handed it to him. It was probably warm but it was wet. He didn’t seem to mind.

He nodded his thanks and took a few swallows.

I retook my seat and waited for him to speak.

“You were a policeman a while back.”

“A while back. If you’re trying to find out my qualifications—”

“I know your qualifications. I do my homework.”

“What’s this about?”

He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “The ravishing.”

Something in my gut knotted. How could he have known that? No one except those admitted to the crime scenes knew those words. “Look, if you’re writing a story, that boat has sailed. I had nothing to say before, and nothing to say now.”

“What if I told you”—he swallowed—“I know who he is?”

“I’d say you were hallucinating. Unless you were an eye witness and didn’t come forward, then you are an accessory to—”

“He showed me everything.” Jeremy ran a hand though his unruly blond hair.

“I see,” I said with a sigh. This kid is one sick puppy.

“That’s what people think,” he nodded.

I stared at him. “I don’t follow. What people think about what?”

“You said I was one sick puppy and I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-six. Your initial assumption that I look younger than I am was correct. You’re a good cop.”

“I’m not a cop anymore.” Had this kid read my mind?

“You were. You were lead investigator on that case, and you were the only one who really gave a dam.” His eyes flew to the open flask sitting on my desk. “He knows you haven’t forgotten. I see that he’s right.”

“What is this, some kind of a joke?”

“No joke. I started with these dreams a little while ago. They come almost every night, one after another, ten in a row. Then they stop and begin again. He’s ready to start again, another ten murders. He’s just biding his time.”

“Look, the details of those murders are, for the most part, readily available. You read about it like everyone else and they influenced your dreams. Try reading something lighter… an Emily Bronte novel will do the trick.”

“But you forget, there were some details not divulged to the public.”

I waited. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this but I knew from experience there were a lot of nuts in the New York City mix. This one looked like a real crackerjack...

The Mayfield Speakeasy by L. A. Witt

Walter Mayfield has his hands full. He’s trying to keep the peace between his brothers, but at least the cops don’t bother him much about his illegal speakeasy. After all, the place is frequented by members of two volatile gangs, and as long as Walter can keep them from killing each other, the cops leave him alone.

That is, until Detective Joe Riordan comes through the door. But Joe ain’t interested in what’s being poured. He’s got three dead bodies, and all three of them are connected to one of Walter’s brothers.

Walter keeps the detective away from the speakeasy and cooperates as best he can with the investigation. Trouble is, he’s taken a whole different kind of interest in the detective. An interest that’s very mutual.

But no matter how much Joe and Walter like each other, the investigation threatens to disrupt the fragile peace in the Mayfield Speakeasy as well as tear apart the Mayfield family. And there’s also still a murderer on the loose, and Joe and Walter need to catch him—or her—before another body turns up...

Genres: Gay/Nostalgic Contemporary (1930s-Era)/Mystery/Detective/Suspense/Thriller
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (19k words)

Read a short excerpt...

...Maybe the information could have waited, but Walter convinced himself it couldn’t. He also could’ve called, maybe, but he spent the cab ride back to the Oleander Hotel telling himself he ought to do this in person. Where nobody could be listening in, you see. Never could tell who might be listening on these phones, especially in his speakeasy. The cops left well enough alone, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have an ear to the ground.

Maybe it could have waited and been over the phone, but Walter tapped his knuckle on the door to the room he’d stormed out of not two hours ago.

“It’s Walter Mayfield,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

Commotion and voices on the other side made his heart jump. He took a step back. Other cops? Another suspect? Anyone he didn’t want seeing him walking into a detective’s hotel room at this hour?

The door opened, and a disheveled kid—couldn’t have been more than twenty—scurried past him with his jacket and hat against his chest. One shirttail hung out, and only one of his shoes was tied, and he kept his eyes down as he rushed past.

Dumbfounded, Walter watched him go. Pity he didn’t get much of a look at him before he turned the corner, because just the glance Walter’d gotten of his face and his front, he was good-looking. Broad in the shoulders, narrow in the waist, blond hair that was a bit longish, and—

A cleared throat spun Walter around.

Joe stood in the doorway. He was buttoning his shirt. That dark hair of his wasn’t as neat as it was earlier, and the way his face was flushed told Walter all he needed to know about why that kid had been in here. If he still wasn’t sure, the rumpled—but not entirely turned down—bed behind Joe filled in the rest. Walter didn’t dare look below Joe’s belt, or he might’ve forgotten why he was here.

Walter cleared his own throat. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Joe gave a quiet, amused grunt, and Walter was sure he saw him give a quick, appraising down-up glance before he stepped aside and nodded for him to come in. “This is more important.”

And more dangerous, some voice in Walter’s head protested, but he followed Joe into the room anyway.

“You spoke to your brother?” Joe leaned against the wall beside the door.

Walter opened his mouth to speak. He’d come here for a reason, hadn’t he? Something important enough to bring him halfway across town at this hour of the night? Except he couldn’t get that blond-haired kid out of his mind. Or why that kid had been here, or the way Joe’d looked him up and down while he’d buttoned his shirt.

“Walter?”

“Right. Sorry.” Walter shook his head and forced himself not to watch Joe rolling his sleeves to the elbows. “John knew the girls. All of them. He was…having affairs with all of them.”

Joe’s hand stopped, his sleeve only rolled halfway. “Was he?”

Walter nodded. “But he says he didn’t hurt them, and I believe him.”

Sighing, Joe continued working at his sleeve, tugging it across his powerful forearm and disheveling the sprinkling of dark hair. “If he didn’t, then who did? And why in the world are they killing women involved with John?”

“I don’t know,” Walter said. “But he gave me the name of the girl he’s got now. A Carol James. He says he’ll do whatever he needs to do to make sure this guy doesn’t hurt her, too.”

“Still doesn’t make sense. Unless there’s another girl who’s jealous and doesn’t want any competition.”

“Think that’s possible?”

“It is,” Joe said. “I’ll warn you, Walt, people are capable of things we don’t think they are. Nobody thinks someone’s a murderer till they’ve murdered and been caught...”

The Low Between by Vivien Dean

It was supposed to be simple.

All struggling actor Carlo Baresi had to do was pick up a man in a taxi, drive him to the location he specified, then report where he’d taken him. The only problem is, the man isn’t who he claims to be...and they both know it.

Bookstore owner Joe Donnelly has a reputation for helping those in need, but this plan has been a bad one from the second he stepped in. Discovering someone has switched out the taxi driver is one more complication he doesn’t want, especially since Carlo is the kind of distraction that can get a man in serious trouble if he’s not careful.

But the men have something in common other than their mutual attraction. They’re both loose ends, struggling to find out what is really going on.

And murder is always complicated, even when you’re on the same side...

Genres: Gay/Nostalgic Contemporary (1950s-Era)/Mystery/Detective/Suspense/Thriller
Heat Level: 2
Length: Extended Novella (38k words)


Read a short excerpt...

...Though he’d been expecting a full address, Carlo edged into the street without complaint. His pulse pounded through his palms, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Maybe this could be salvaged. After all, he was nobody. He’d never even spoken to Joe directly. Recognizing Joe didn’t have to be the end of the world. All he had to do was fulfill his end of the deal, and Mr. Stout would be happy.

“This rain’s going to slow us down,” Joe commented.

“No worries,” Carlo said. “Nobody’s nuts enough to be out at this time of night to get in our way.”

“Nobody but us, anyway.”

Carlo laughed, mostly because he was meant to. “You warm enough back there?”

“I don’t think I’ll be warm again ’til June.”

He’d always liked the sound of Joe’s voice. The first time he’d heard it, Joe was coming out of the backroom of his bookstore with a comforting arm around an elderly woman whose face had been swollen from tears. Carlo had been on his knees, thumbing through some play collections on the bottom shelf in search of a monologue to memorize for an audition. At the unfamiliar deep rumble, he’d glanced up, then stared at the man for the several seconds he was in view before he and the woman disappeared into the stacks.

Eavesdropping told him the guy was the owner. Returning a couple times a month when he got matinee shifts at the theater filled in a few more details, but Carlo never forgot the swift heat that had consumed him that first time he’d heard and seen Joe Donnelly.

Joe wore his auburn hair short, like he’d been in the military, which, considering he had to be in his thirties, was probably a given, but his dark blue eyes couldn’t hide whatever painful history he was trying to forget. The melancholy was etched at the corners of his mouth, and though he had a smile to rival Van Johnson’s, Carlo had only ever seen it once. From what he could tell, Joe buried himself in the store. He always worked in the same white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his powerful forearms, the cotton straining across his wide shoulders.

Carlo couldn’t resist sneaking a peek into the rearview mirror. Now that he was out of the rain, Joe had opened the top button of his trenchcoat and pushed its collar out of the way. The shirt beneath was black.

“Eyes on the road,” Joe said.

The wheel jerked in Carlo’s startled hands, his foot automatically tapping the brake, but he obeyed without question. A sigh came from the backseat.

“How long you been driving, kid?”

His face flamed, and his petulant chin tilted up. He hated being called a kid. “I have my license.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

He couldn’t make trouble or draw attention to himself, no matter what Joe provoked in him. His shoulders slumped. “Six years.”

“Bullshit.”

His gaze snapped back to the mirror, but Joe hadn’t even moved. “What?”

“You heard me. I call bullshit. You’re twenty, tops.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Which is still bullshit. You haven’t been behind that wheel since you were sixteen.”

“Oh. No. That’s when I got my driver’s license.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“I kind of figured that out,” Carlo grumbled. A light was turning yellow ahead. He started slowing before Joe tried giving him driving lessons again.

“So? How long?”

“Two years.”

“You like it?”

What was with the twenty questions? “It’s all right.”

“Not as good as acting, though.”

The car leapt forward as his foot slipped off the brake, but by the time he’d regained control and come to a stop at the now-red light, the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed to the back of his head...

Love for Sale by A. J. Llewellyn

When Matt Killian, a LAPD cop-turned-private-eye, is approached one rainy day in Hollywood to take on a missing person case, he initially wants to say "no" when the potential client tells him he chose Killian because he's gay. Killian changes his mind, however, when he learns the man is distraught because his son, Dane Marks—AKA notorious gay porn director, Danny Dark—is missing. Matt is further surprised to learn that Dane has already tried to take his own life, twice, and has now disappeared, possibly to escape interference in his third attempt.

It's a race against time as Killian tracks down Danny Dark and attempts to short-circuit the man's desire for self-destruction. Plunged headlong into the sometimes-amusing, sometimes-terrifying world of gay porn, Killian is mistaken for a go-go dancer and performs in a live show to get close to Dane.

Can Killian save Dane and show him that sex isn't love and love isn't sex...that love is amazing and is not for sale?

Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Mystery / Detective / The Arts / Exhibitionism / Public Places
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (34k words)

Read a short excerpt...

...I was almost sick to my stomach by the time I got to my floor. I’d held my breath most of the way and released it as I charged along the corridor. I could smell cigarettes and pot and something else. It was strange and yet familiar. A metallic, chemical smell. Oh crap, someone was cooking crystal meth in their room.

At my door I slid the key card into the slot across the top of the door handle. The green light flashed and I opened the door. It was a very nice room. Two double beds. No champagne, unlike the bridal suite, but it would do. I immediately closed the door, set up the computer on a round table overlooking the balcony and, beyond it, the hotel environs hugging Miami’s South Beach bay.

I checked Dane’s messages online. He’d alerted his two rent boys that there was a change in location. He told Thomas Conrad and Ricky Stanton that he was staying at the Hyatt. He left his cell phone number and signed off with DD.

Danny Dark.

I realized now that the name suited him. He was a dark personality. Or rather, that side of his personality was strong. I hoped it wouldn’t take over completely. I called his dad next and woke him. He seemed relieved when I told him I’d checked into a room on the same floor as his son.

“How much is that costing me?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m posing as a go-go dancer. Somebody else booked the room.”

“A go-go dancer?” He laughed so hard I found it frankly offensive. It wasn’t that funny.

“Don’t call his room,” I warned Christopher. “I don’t want to spook him.”

“I won’t. I’ll be good. I promise. Go-go boy. Ha! I made a funny. Go boy! Go-go boy! Ha ha!”

“I’ll be in touch,” I said and ended the call. I took a quick shower, dried off, and threw on fresh underpants and a T-shirt. I checked the computer again and found that Dane hadn’t had any responses to his text messages. Perhaps his rental boys were mid-air or something. I turned off his computer and tucked it into my bag, putting it beside the bed. I was trashed. Absolutely exhausted. I set my cell phone for a two-hour nap. I’d be no good to Dane or his father unless I got some rest. I slid between what felt like expensive bed sheets, my body caving in to sleep.

It wasn’t long before I was awakened however and the sensation was bizarre. It felt like somebody was sucking my cock. Wow. Talk about wet dreams. I tried turning over but another man’s body had me pinned to the bed. I lifted my head a little and glanced down.

Holy fucking fuck fuck fuck.

I was getting a monster job and it was no dream. I was poised between heaven and hell. On the cusp of screaming “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” and gripping the man’s head to me in case he tried to stop.

But he wasn’t stopping.

Fuck…

I looked down at the totally astonishing sight of my target, Danny Dark, AKA Dane Marks, sucking my cock.

As if his very life depended on it...

December bestsellers

Starting on Monday, we're going to be featuring the stories in the next pax collection, Noir. Five m/m stories, all in a noir setting.

In the meantime, the December bestseller list for Amber Allure has been released, and guess what? All five of the That Gang of Mine pax hit the list, as well as one of the titles from the the Once Upon a Fairy Tale released in November!

1. Wallflowers - Sean Michael (Gay / Contemporary)
2. Familiar - M. L. Rhodes (Gay / Fantasy)
3. Chase The Ace - Clare London (Gay / Contemporary)
4. Doors Of Time - KC Kendricks (Gay / Contemporary)
5. Just Between Us - Aislinn Kerry (Gay / Contemporary)
6. Choices - Stevie Woods (Gay / Contemporary)
7. Steel's Redemption - Pepper Espinoza (Gay / Old West)
8. Tachinomi Hook-Up - Helen Louise Caroll (Gay / Contemporary)
9. Wild Rose, Silent Snow - Angel Martinez (Gay / Fairy Tale)
10. Eynhallow - A. J. Llewellyn (Gay / Shapeshifter)

Congratulations, everyone!

New Reviews for That Old Gang of Mine

The new year brings new reviews for some of the stories in our latest pax release, That Old Gang of Mine!

Serena Yates at Rainbow Book Reviews called Wallflowers by Sean Michael "a hot, yet emotionally fulfilling read."

Chase the Ace by Clare London comes "highly recommended" from Sean at Hearts on Fire Reviews, saying "you won't be disappointed."

At The Romance Studio, Teresa T. calls Just Between Us by Aislinn Kerry "an incredible, short story."

Looking forward to 2013

Happy new year!

As much fun as it can be to look back over everything that happened for Amber Quill Press and the paxes in 2012, it's even better to look forward and see what we have in store for you in 2013. There are TWELVE AmberPax collections scheduled for Amber Allure alone, one for each month. That's sixty stories to revel in. How great is that?

So what are the themes you can expect?

Starting out the year, it's all about atmosphere, with noir and steampunk dominating the themes. In March, the collection is all about office affairs and the heat they can generate.

Coming up in the second quarter, we've got stories about gods walking amongst humans, musicians and the men who love them, and men hiding secrets.

Summertime brings more entertainment-themed stories, as well as tributes to both the gothic-style stories  and the angsty, tense romances between the enigmatic, international hero and his lover we all loved way back when.

In October, the always popular werewolves will be back, followed by location-specific tales, those taking place on trains and those at motels.

This year, there is undoubtedly something for everyone. It promises to be a great one!