Brian Harrison wants to keep everyone safe — especially his beloved sub, Jackie Vasquez — and he’s convinced the only way to do that is to dig ever deeper in a forbidden investigation. Keeping his activities secret from the State Department means keeping them from his own boss, Luki Vasquez, and keeping secrets from Luki means Jackie can’t know either.
Meanwhile, Jackie keeps his own secrets as his kind heart and indomitable spirit drive him to find and help a mysterious homeless woman, who may be connected to a kidnapping. Both men dance around dangers lurking in LA’s hidden places.
Love continues to grow, adventurous kink heats up, and a marriage proposal still hangs in the balance. Can a willing shot of trust keep them together and alive when secrets collide?
Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.
Melaina Carey has a secret she’s desperate to keep hidden from her nest mates. Her life may have been saved when she was turned into a vampire, but it brought with it a whole new host of problems.
Her secret is about to be revealed and the two men she fears — and lusts after most — are about to put their centuries of experience to the test.
They aren’t going to let her hide anymore. Tristan and Dougal know there’s something wrong with her. When they discover what it is, they’re determined to help her.
There is no way that Melaina is going to submit easily. Tristan and Dougal are going to have to prove they are man — and vampire — enough to control her every move.
Warning: This book contains subjects not intended for the faint of heart, including blood play, rope bondage and erotic pain.
“They’re gonna be super pissed,” Malcolm observed, shrugging off the glare she sent him.
“Well, what the hell do you expect me to do, Colly?” she called him by his nickname. “I couldn’t stay there and go through a repeat of this morning. They’re gonna want to know what’s wrong with me.”
She shook her head, sliding off the picnic table to pace in front of it. A flash of blue and red caught her eye, the swing set beckoning her. Whispered promises of another time in her life, one where she wasn’t afraid. Back when she didn’t know anything about the monsters in the night. Back before she became one of them.
She could hear the sounds of children, screaming and laughing, flitting through her mind. The glorious, clean smell of summer. The exhilarating rush of running around the slide, desperate to be the next one to go down its heated metal length, wincing when it burned sensitive thighs under colorful shorts.
They would fight over who got to sit on the yellow, laughing duck. His orange beak a bright splash of color, a counterpoint to Mr. Frog with his red mouth on the other end of the teeter-totter. She and Malcolm had spent years here, always the same.
She sat down in one of the swings, the strip of blue rubber conforming to her hips. Pushing off with her feet, she swung back and forth slowly. “When did it change, Colly? When did it become so faded, so rusty?” she asked, contemplatively.
Malcolm shrugged, flicking his gaze around the playground.
“The paint is peeling on the metal. The fence is five different colors from continuously having to paint over the graffiti. Was it always like this and we just didn’t notice it?” she mused, kicking her feet up. Looking back at Malcolm, she saw him watching her, studying her.
“Things change, Mel.” He met her eyes. “What are you gonna tell them?”
Now it was her turn to shrug.
“You have to tell them something,” he said, a hint of impatience in his voice.
Cocking her head, she listened to the sounds of the night. The squeak of the chains as she pushed back and forth on the swing, the rustling of the trees, the slow inhale and exhale coming from her brother. “I can’t tell them the truth.”
“Why not?” he asked with a huff. Standing up, Malcolm placed both hands on his hips, glowering at her.
“Seriously? You seriously have to ask me that? Uh, maybe because I’m a fucking vampire and I can’t even do the whole vamp thing normally.”
“They’re gonna find out one way or another. It might be better if you just tell them. I mean, c’mon! You can’t be the only person to ever have this problem. It’s not like it isn’t treatable and –” Mel threw out her hand, startling her brother and cutting off his next words. She froze, breathing erratically. Ten seconds went by, incredibly slow.
“Well? Aren’t you going to finish your sentence, Malcolm? Pray tell, what exactly could Melaina have that is treatable?” Tristan growled, his normally calm voice ragged. His accent roughened, becoming more noticeable.
They appeared out of the night, separating from the shadows that had kept them hidden from view. Tristan glided forward, followed by the dark, stalking figure of Dougal.
The two men separated, surrounding her.
Dougal slid up behind her, grabbing the metal chains of the swing in his large hands, halting her movement when she tried to get up. Tristan blocked her front, staring down at her fiercely.
Crap, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She hadn’t had enough time to come up with an excuse. Stalling for time, she remained silent.
“Uh, guys…” Malcolm said, trailing off when Tristan threw him a smoldering glare.
“Leave us,” Dougal snarled.
“Yeah, I’ll just be going then. Right… I’ll just be…” Malcolm ignored her pleading eyes. Turning swiftly, he walked out of the park, leaving her with the two vampires.
“Now, we can do this the hard way, or we can do it the easy way. But when we walk out of this park, we are going to know what is wrong with you. Is that clear?” Dougal whispered, caressing the shell of her ear with his breath.
Pru Gordon has spent the last ten years under the dominant rule of the Relic Group, learning and honing her unique telepathic skills. Now that she’s graduated from the order and is a fully licensed Reliant Agent, she is free to shed the ill-fitting skin of a submissive and be the alpha she must to succeed at Ovelia — the hottest BDSM club in Atlanta. Being a dominatrix gives her perfect access to the Nightside she polices. And it lets her fulfill her fantasies at the same time. It’s the perfect life.
Until the night she meets Gage Mills and Ro Thomas. The two vampires’ cadres have been at war for a century, putting the safety of both humans and the Nightside in jeopardy. Both men are definitely top-dog types, so Pru’s heart beats hard when HQ assigns her the job of Collaring them. Despite the tiny voice in her mind suggesting she might be in over her head, Pru is determined to close the case.
When two of the darkest predators around meet up with the best Controller alive, things are bound to get messy… Just what the Domme ordered.
The sleek glide of vinyl over hairless flesh brought a smile to Pru’s lips. God, it felt good to dress the way she wanted. After ten years in training with the Relic Group, putting on a potato sack would feel good, as long as she chose it.
Pru pulled the zipper of her thigh high boot up before stomping both shoes against the floor and tugging at their tops. Legs properly ensconced, she turned around to look at herself in the mirror.
“Very nice.”
With one last glance, Pru left her apartment, slapping her palm against the identpad to lock the door. As she made her way to the parking garage, she couldn’t help but smile again. She worked at the hottest BDSM club in the country, Ovelia. Situated on the outskirts of downtown Atlanta, the club drew customers not just from the city, or the state, but also from all over the world.
Her work at Ovelia paid very well, and as she approached her prize possession, she couldn’t help but purr with satisfaction. The hovercycle was unbelievably expensive, but worth every dime.
She slid her body onto the low-slung vehicle, starting the antigrav field and lifting off in the same smooth motion. The ride to her job took less than ten minutes, but it was ten minutes spent in complete joy. She pulled into the parking garage and powered down the cycle. With one last look, she made her way to the employee entrance.
Pru waved to Bertie, the lupercan bouncer, on her way in. He was wolfed-out, nothing odd about that, but the bright pink collar was new.
“Nice accessory, Bertie.” She smiled when he preened at her comment.
“Thanks, Pru. I wanted to try something different.”
“It looks good. What’s George think?”
The heavily muscled, hair-covered lupercan crossed his arms. “He likes me in pink.”
Mix two alien Marines, a human BDSM Master, and a shapeshifting Empress with a mind of her own, and what do you get? A whole lot of trouble.
Dane and Julian, ex-war heroes now in the Empress’ service, hate each other. Hate, hate, hate. Problem? Julian wants Dane almost as much as he hates him.
The Empress needs her ex-Marines, but they’re no good to her if they’re at each other’s throats. She thinks she has a way to tame the two by putting them together with Master Anubis, a refugee from Earth.
It’s a three-way battle for dominance, and the Empress knows something she’s not telling…
Note: Chain of Three follows the standalone title Chain of Thorns, but can be read by itself. This title contains elements that may be disturbing to some readers.
“So, you’re pretending to be a human again today, are you?”
Dane grunted in response. In his opinion, a stupid question didn’t deserve any kind of answer. Anyone with two, three, four or more eyes in their head or what they called a head ought to know better. Of course he’d shifted into human shape. He wasn’t stupid.
The Empress hadn’t exactly ordered Her subjects to assume the images of the humans She adored and fell passionately in love with. However, anyone who wasn’t too dumb to come in out of the rain knew they’d better wear the right “uniform” unless they had an itch to annoy Her.
You really, really didn’t want to annoy the Supreme Commander of a thousand-plus starships and a million trained warriors.
Besides, he’d decided to lounge by the pond in the garden of his new quarters that morning and tentacles had a nasty tendency to develop vicious sunburn. “Getting a tan” the earthfolk they’d rescued from their doomed planet called this practice. They’d said it was relaxing and made them look more attractive to those they wanted to mate with.
No, those they wanted to fuck.
If Dane was going to play human, then he’d damn well get the details right. Mating and fucking were completely different concepts. One of the new traditions most of his countrymen and women liked best when it came to playing human was the idea of fucking without having to tangle themselves up in mating.
“Fuck.” An interesting word you could use in almost any sentence.
Dane paused for a second to appreciate the amazing range of human obscenities, otherwise called “swearing,” “cursing,” or “cussin’.” They worked great when a guy didn’t really know what else to say.
Speaking of which, Dane decided getting a suntan was probably a piss-poor waste of time. He couldn’t figure out why anyone would enjoy damaging the pigmentation of their skin by sitting in the sun all day, but as the earthfolk also said, what the hell? He didn’t have anything better to do. Not since he’d been “honorably” discharged from the military, sent back to their home planet for recuperation, and then…
Dane shuddered.
“Aww. He shivered. Izza baby boy cold?” Julian taunted in American English.
Raising the middle finger of his human-shaped hand, Dane pointed it where he figured Julian would be standing. Another handy earthfolk trick, cussing with hand signals.
Julian hooted. “Up yours too!” He made the suggestion in cheerful good humor. Probably purely for the sake of annoying Dane. He never took offense at anything Dane did. He treated every barb and sting like some big game. Prick. “You’re cranky today, old man. What flew up your ass?”
Dane grunted again as his only answer, deciding if that wasn’t good enough for Julian he could go screw himself.
Mmm. He really, really loved human profanity. So rich, depending on culture, and so satisfying. He and Julian both studied the underground lists of new phrases together to figure out what they meant, bitching at each other over who got to read first if they didn’t both have a copy. The time when Julian insisted “son of a bitch” meant the same thing as “son of a motherless goat” had resulted in a fight of amazing violence and duration.
In the end, the Empress Herself gave them a tongue-lashing of Her own and sent them to their rooms to stand with their noses in the corner until they learned to behave like men, not children.
Julian’s fault, in Dane’s opinion. Dumbass.
About Willa Okati
Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
Nyla is a cat. So is Lucas. Nyla is an Egyptian descendant of Bast. Lucas isn’t.
In fact, he’s so far off the scale of high falutin’ lineages, he’s precariously tipped them. That’s because he’s a tomcat.
Nyla and Lucas have been friends for over a year since they met at a shifters’ meet and greet. Until one day, Nyla smells what Lucas has smelled all along. Her lifemate.
What does any good pair of lifemates do when they have to seal the deal? A little bump and grind, but who knew the bump and grind meant floggers and spankings and a host of kinky stuff Nyla had no clue Lucas liked.
Nyla is vanilla. Lucas is not. Lucas is a Dominant who enjoys just a smidge of rocky road with his bedroom pleasures.
Nyla never considered herself submissive. No one is the boss of her. However, these lifemates are about to embark on a journey that will take them both to places they’d never considered.
Oh, and it never hurts to mention that Nyla’s family is a snobbish, upper crust bunch of shifters who will probably want nothing more than to see to it that Lucas and Nyla’s newly acquired lifemate status is revoked by the lifemate council.
It’s High Society meets the ASPCA with a decided twist…
Publisher’s note: This title is available in print. Visit our Books in Print page for more information.
“I’m so — so…” Well, she didn’t know what she was. She’d been on a mission to find the scent that made her nose feel like it’d exploded off her face and she was so enamored with the “scent’s” ass she tripped on a stupid toy mouse and fell into him. As opposed to sauntering up to him like she was all va-va-voom or something.
That was how she’d planned it in her mind, anyway. She would follow the smell of this Utopia in a pair of faded jeans and saunter up to him like she was the Queen of Sheba.
Sometimes the road to hell and all that rigmarole…
So instead of sashaying like a supermodel on a runway, Nyla Jane Selim fell into yon hottie with not an ounce of sashay and a whole lot of Pee Wee Herman.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to — I think I tripped –” Her nose was overwhelmed with the masculine scent of him. It made her heart skip and do a running vault over the parallel bars.
Strong arms held her for the briefest of moments before helping her to regain her footing and a deep voice, raspy and reassuring, interrupted her apology. “Tripped on a mouse,” he finished her sentence. “Somebody needs to clean this place up.”
Ohhhhhh, oooh, oh. A shiver of delight rippled along Nyla’s spine and she arched into him, keeping her palms on his muscled forearms for a moment more. What a set of lungs… Nyla didn’t know if she should silently curse or thank Amos personally for not cleaning up the kitty condo aisle. “It’s been a bit crazy here and we’re understaffed,” she offered as she squinted, studying his face, angular and rugged.
Her eyebrows rose. No fucking way! Lucas? How could this be? Lucas never smelled like this before. Nyla struggled to find her glasses in the white coat she wore at the pet store. Slipping them on, she peered into her friend’s face as if she were seeing it for the first time, not the like hundredth in a year.
He held a studded collar in his hand, rhinestones and black leather. It twinkled under the bright fluorescent lights of the store. His thumb ran over the studs, giving Nyla another carnal thought that had absolutely nothing to do with a collar and everything to do with slappin’ this face jock down on the floor and slamming him one for Old Glory. Oh, my God! Had she really just thought that?
“I see that,” Lucas commented, his tone rather blasé as he looked over the top of her head and gave a scathing scan of the store overall. “You talk about this place all the time. I thought I’d come check it out. You definitely could use one or two of those plastic Tupperware bins,” he joked.
Nyla stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Okay, so it wasn’t the most efficiently run place, but it had its advantages and a great volunteer program for adopting a pet, which Nyla ran. “Lucas, what the hell are you doing here? You need help with something in particular?”
His smile was cocky and glib, and his dark green eyes hinted that Nyla, for all of her ineptitude, couldn’t possibly help him. “No. No. I don’t need help at all, Nyla. I just thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to catch a movie. You know that thing we do every Friday night? Me relegated to your fun date pile and all?”
At this particular nanosecond, despite the sharp stab of her nipples poking at her bra like a Dewalt drill bit, Nyla was tweaked. What the hell was going on? They’d been on two dates before she’d determined that they should just be friends. She and Lucas were so alike, ruining it with sex was something Nyla wasn’t willing to do. Lucas was the only person in the world who understood her right down to her Prada heels, and she wasn’t going to risk becoming his squeeze so he could dump her somewhere down the road. They were friends for life — period.
And so now what? He was all of a sudden hot? She and Lucas had shared more than a dozen movies and he’d never smelled like this before. Fuck him for smelling better than tuna. Gathering her best disinterested attitude around her knees, Nyla gave him a narrowed glance before dismissing her moment of insanity and said, “Yeah, let’s do a movie.” While I’m at it, could I do you too?
Oh! Where had that come from?
“Nyla? You okay?” Lucas looked down at her from what seemed like way far up there all of a sudden… was he always this tall? Tall and luscious to boot?
“Yeah, I’m great. You?”
“I’m fine. So, the movie? Wanna go?”
Nyla’s nose twitched again. Oh, my hell, he smelled soooo good. Nyla involuntarily sniffed his shoulder. “Are you wearing new cologne?”
“That’s all me, baby. Nothing new,” he teased. “You were the one who didn’t want to sample it, remember?”
Oh, she remembered all right. As clearly as she now smelled him in a whole different way. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. We’re friends and I won’t risk having to dump your ass and take all of your toilet paper with me when I do, just so we can have sex. I can have that with anyone, but nobody does a good romantic comedy like you.”
Lucas brushed a kiss over her suddenly heated forehead. “I know, I know. I’m the sexless friend.” As he stood closer to her, Nyla fought the urge to lean into his hard frame and the bonfire that was him.
Lucas stiffened and backed away. “So, a movie? Popcorn, soda and your favorite ‘no sex this lifetime’ buddy — friend.”
Nyla cleared her throat. Yeah, no sex. She’d said that a dozen times or so too… what had she been thinking? Nyla put a hand on Lucas’ chest. A chest that now, all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, felt… good.
With that, Nyla turned on her heel and stalked off toward the back room where she fully intended to cleanse her nostrils with sandpaper.
About Dakota Cassidy
USA Today Bestselling author Dakota Cassidy lives for a good laugh in life and in her writing. In fact, she almost loves a good giggle as much as she loves hair products and that’s saying something.
Her goals in life are simple, (like really simple): banish the color yellow forever, create world peace via hot rollers and Aqua Net; and finally, nab every tiara in the land by competing in the Miss USA, Miss Universe, and Miss World pageants, then sweeping them in a stunning trifecta of much duct tape and Vaseline usage, all in just under one week. Oh, and write really fun books!
Dakota lives in Oregon with her dogs and has a husband who puts the heroes in her books to shame.
After a crash left him with new mental and physical scars, Jackie Vasquez has finally regained his focus, flair, and bright outlook. Though he’s letting Brian Harrison’s marriage proposal simmer, it’s not for lack of love. He’s set his sights on putting his life right first — a new job and a fresh start at graduate school. But Los Angeles — the city of devil winds — has new trauma in store for him. Another accident leaves him with the stump of a leg and defeated spirits, adrift despite Brian’s devoted attentions.
While Brian copes with his own emotional trauma, he hopes to break through Jackie’s apathy, but work at Vasquez Security takes more and more of his time and attention. Specifically “the Espen case,” which his boss — Luki Vasquez — has forbidden him to pursue. Help comes on all fronts from friends and family for both Brian and Jackie, but even as it does, danger mounts from outside. Can the two men find their way back to love as well as passion and fulfillment in their D/s roles? Can they survive the confrontation with danger that seems to loom closer and darker every time LA’s hot winds blow?
The morning after their stellar session, when Brian got out of bed, he discovered Jackie was already up. The fortune cookie was no longer on the night table. Brian walked out into the open front rooms of the apartment looking for his boy, eager to kiss Jackie soundly and get his answer to the marriage proposal.
Jackie had left three of four diagonally cut pieces of cinnamon-toast on a plate, two strips of bacon in a pan, and half a pot of coffee still keeping warm, but he was nowhere to be seen. Brian poured himself a cup of hot coffee and grabbed both bacon strips with his fingers. He sat down in his usual spot at the table, wondering if he should feel disappointed, worried, or perhaps unconcerned. Jackie had certainly demonstrated his feelings for Brian the previous night.
But the question Where the hell is he? kept popping up in his mind as he devoured the bacon and chased it down with coffee. Then, as he helped himself to Jackie’s toast leavings, the question evolved into Why the hell would he leave without a word?
Followed closely by Why hasn’t he answered about marrying me?
Shit. “No” would be better than silence…
Wait. No, it wouldn’t. But shit…
After he polished off the toast and talked himself out of putting a shot of J&B in his second cup of coffee, he remembered that phones and text messaging existed. Hopeful, he swallowed most of the coffee down and went to the bedroom to fetch his phone. Aha! A text awaited, and it was from none other…
— Good morning, Bri. I’ll be home soon. Before I forget. What happened to that broken drawer in the playroom? —
It took Brian a number of seconds before he could even make sense of the question, so far was it from what he’d expected — and desperately hoped — to see, but eventually he put it together. Annoyed, but glad Jackie had at least not forgotten him entirely, he texted back.
— It had a lock, no key, and I couldn’t pick it. I broke it. Where are you? —
Brian waited, sitting on the unmade bed in his skivvies, only vaguely aware of Marley head-bumping his arm hoping for a good scratch and not even noticing the sun blazing through the window and baking his left shoulder. He didn’t get an answer. He sighed very deeply, well aware of how piteous it sounded, and then he moaned, “Dammit, Jackie.” Sure the devil boy would be his undoing someday, he gritted his teeth, resolving not to worry until something clearly indicated he should.
He picked up his phone to send another text, but before he could do so, he got a mixed media message. As often proved to be the case with images, it had taken a long time to get to him, having been sent even before the text he’d already responded to. It was a selfie. Jackie looking very fine and dressed for success, wearing a blazer the same color as his eyes and a tie… one of Brian’s, he believed.
He texted back: You look good. Why are you wearing a tie?
He waited. No answer.
He waited some more. No answer.
He started to wait some more, said “Fuck it” out loud, and sent a final text. What did your fortune cookie say? And wherever you are, be careful.
Brian dressed, walked down to the office, and had already situated himself at his desk and powered up his PC when a reply came.
I love you, Brian.
Brian didn’t reply. He was already tired from the strange interaction. He just gathered up his things and, sighing again, turned his attention to work.
More and more he found he accomplished the tasks of management easily. He whipped through the morning’s e-mails before Livvy showed up, made a pot of coffee, assigned Lonny to manage a personal security situation for Korean corporate officers in Los Angeles for a wedding, and reviewed the latest financial reports with Ahmad. After a break, during which he tried unsuccessfully to reach Jackie by phone and then spent fifteen minutes crocheting with Livvy while she talked about her nephew’s latest musical triumphs, he worked on a plan he’d been putting together to point VSI-LA in a profitable direction over the next couple of years.
LA was rife with security companies, a good number of them with high level capabilities. It was why Luki had never concentrated his energies here — a big market with an even bigger pool of competition, and as successful and respected as Vasquez Security was, it remained a small- to- medium-sized fish in the large pond. That made it difficult to compete with the likes of Security Group International, and SGI’s office in LA was more than triple the size of Brian’s little group.
But he thought the office could do better than it had. The key was targeting the right niche. He’d researched, and he’d found two of the least monopolized areas to be security for transient high level corporate officials — like the Koreans in town this week — and event security for small to medium-sized posh gatherings. VSI was set up well to grow in those market areas, and his report included the necessary facts and figures for Luki to make a decision as to whether to invest in the additional personnel, training, equipment, and advertising to accomplish it.
Now he set his mind to propose one additional area of investment, one he wasn’t at all sure Luki would approve. For one thing, it involved privately dealing with things that technically should be the domain of law enforcement agencies. For another, it involved putting someone in the middle of very dangerous situations — negotiating with kidnappers and dealing with blackmailers — and nobody on staff at present in Los Angeles was qualified. But Brian knew Luki had done that type of work, and he had other agents in Chicago who could do it. Luki could do the training, and Brian really wanted to be trained and to do the work. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to do something so patently risky, except that he hadn’t studied what he’d studied and gone on staff with the London Metropolitan Police in order to spend all his time at a desk.
Whatever the reason, his brain got ridiculously excited at the idea. He’d need a partner, and he thought Amy might be a good choice. If not, they could hire someone. With Luki’s connections in the business, Brian had no doubt they’d pick up jobs if word got out VSI-LA was equipped to deal with them.
Interestingly, he’d found a file indicating Espen had been looking into the same field of operations a few weeks before his disappearance, but he hadn’t compiled any reports except a list of other security companies that offered the same services.
As that thought passed casually through his thoughts, a realization jolted him — as if lightning had struck and revealed Espen’s secrets. Two entries in the notebook had been different than all the others. Both had the letters RL, a date, and what was surely an amount of money. Only one had been crossed out.
Espen was a gambler, possibly an addict. Espen had been deep in debt to someone represented by the initials RL. He’d paid RL once, but not the second time. Around the same time, he’d compiled that list.
It clicked. He hadn’t been thinking of the business, he’d gone looking for help with a blackmailer.
Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.
Everyone please give a warm welcome to Brian Harrison from the Vasquez Inc series, including the latest installment A Shot at Perfect by Lou Sylvre. He’s graciously agreed to answer a few questions for us. Are you as excited as I am to find out more about Brian? *rubs hands together* Then let’s get to it!
Brian, thank you for joining us today!
Thanks for having me! It’s not often I get to speak to readers myself, so it’s a rare opportunity.
If there was one thing in your life you could change, what would it be?
Well, hmm. I don’t know if I should say this, because I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I think I’d like to leave Los Angeles. I mean, Luki Vasquez—my boss—has been really good to me, and he offered me this position, managing the LA office of his security firm, Vasquez Inc. It’s good pay, we have an apartment to live in without having to shell out LA’s sky-high rents, and it’s never too cold out. But LA’s been crazy ever since we got here—Jackie and I—last year. We’ve been the target of some bad criminal stuff, and Jackie’s had a couple of accidents—bad enough to change our lives. Thing is, though, even saying I want to leave this city—I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until we get the bad guys, as Luki would say. And first we have to find them.
Do you have any regrets when it comes to Jackie Vasquez?
Good question. You know, in a way I regret that he was out on his own in this city’s traffic, riding a bicycle, when he had his first accident. And I sort of regret not keeping closer tabs on him—I didn’t even know where he was when the second one happened. Shit, even before that, I regret leaving him alone so much of the time in London before we moved here—he almost got killed by a psychopath. But in reality, I can’t regret those things because they weren’t really under my control. I’m a Dom, but not the sort that wants to be a 24/7 Master, and Jackie’s not that kind of sub. We’re D/s mostly when we’re in the playroom. He doesn’t want someone taking control of his life, and I guess I wouldn’t do that if he did want it. So I guess I took the long way around to get to this answer, but my real regret? I lost myself for a while after Jackie got hurt. I didn’t give Jackie what he needed, because I couldn’t get over my own fears. That made it more of a battle to get through the tough times—worse for both of us, but I especially regret the way it hurt him. He deserves better.
And then, hell,, I also regret putting my marriage proposal in a fortune cookie. Word of advice—never do that.
When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be a cop. I went through a time in my late teens when I really waffled about that—cops get a lot of bad press, and a lot of the time they deserve it. Abuse of power and such. But then I realized that’s all the more reason the world needs good cops, fair and honest cops who are really looking out for people, helping to keep them safe. So yeah, that’s what I wanted to do. And I did—twice. What I do now—private security—isn’t so different, but I’m pretty sure being a cop again is still in my future. We’ll see.
What is your favorite memory?
Oh! Wow. Did not expect this question. I have to say my favorite memory is pretty recent, and of course it involves Jackie. He’s… beautiful, you know. Not just his looks, but the way he carries himself, his sense of humor, and he’s brilliant. He’s also a stubborn, devil boy who likes to push buttons now and then, but even that’s wonderful when I look at the whole package. Uh… Sorry, got a little sidetracked there. So my favorite memory… well, this is my favorite moment from my favorite memory… but why don’t I just let Lou show you. She wrote about it (she doesn’t respect our privacy at all) in A Shot of J&B.
They walked out after all the guests who weren’t staying left, Jackie leading him by the hand through an oak-covered trail with moonlight shining toward them from the open sky of the river. They settled in, opened their bottle of wine, and shared it along with good-natured silence, quiet words from time to time, and a loose embrace. Brian’s arm and larger form sheltered Jackie from a cool breeze off the river, and it added up to more than a friendly hug, but less than sex.
With about two-thirds of the wine gone, Brian set it aside and stood, then reached a hand down to help Jackie to his feet. He was about to suggest they walk back to the house before the family feared they’d fallen in, but facing Jackie, he saw a look in his eyes he couldn’t quite interpret. He seemed neither to plead nor demand, not even to expect, but something in his direct gaze, his slightly open lips, the tilt of his head — they added up to a question, and though Brian’s mind didn’t seem to know the language, his lips and body did.
He leaned in and grazed his lips across Jackie’s once, twice. When he straightened, Jackie’s eyes narrowed slightly, Jackie’s breath rushed out quickly and hitched, Jackie’s fingers fidgeted against his palms — all signs of distress. Brian took a half step back, not letting go of Jackie’s eyes, and held both his hands out between them, palm up.
“Give me your hands,” he said.
Jackie placed elegant fingers in Brian’s broad, strong palms, and when Brian closed them in a tight grip, the younger man’s entire being seemed to relax. Brian
pulled Jackie’s hands toward him and around his back, holding them there as he stepped forward until there was no space between them at all.
Do you have a favorite movie or song? Do you know Jackie’s favorite movie or song?
Jackie’s a little more of a romantic than me—also more out there in his tastes. (Don’t tell him I said that.) I don’t know his favorite movie, but a wild guess, it’s something like Too Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar. (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114682/) I do know his favorite song—or at least one of them, and it’s kind of a sad commentary. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing this with you, but if you know anything about his history, you’ll understand why he… sort of feels the lyrics. The song is one Shawn Mendes sings, “In My Blood”.
What was it like the first time you kissed Jackie?
Huh. I have to laugh a little. You maybe expect me to say it was like, fireworks or starry skies or hearts and cupids and symphonic strains. It wasn’t. It was sweet. It was refreshing. It was like waking up to something bright and surprising and intriguing in the best way. But you know what? All I could think of to say was, “Thank you, Jackie. That was lovely.”
What was your first impression of Jackie?
You see, we met when he was just a kid—sixteen. I met him at his uncles’ wedding in Hawaii. I knew right from the start there was something special about him. He was all natural grace and unusual beauty, and I felt like there was some unidentifiable kind of connection between us. But even though I was only in my early twenties, at that age I couldn’t think of him as a potential partner. I wouldn’t allow myself to, but really it was more than that. I couldn’t think of him that way, but I also couldn’t get him off my mind, couldn’t shake the idea we were more-or-less fated to meet. I didn’t see him again for six years, but when I did I felt exactly the same.
Does Jackie have a pet? Do you get along?
Actually my cat, a rescue named Marley, loves Jackie more than he loves me. Also, we have a dog named Soldier. I rescued him, too, but right now he’s living in Washington State with Luki and Sonny—lots of room to run for him there, none where we live in LA. Truth is, he likes Jackie better than me, too. Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe they both just take me for granted, and on the other hand they know Jackie’s something special.
Do you like to read? What’s your favorite book?
I’ve always liked to read fiction, but I don’t do it a whole lot any more—a matter of time and business. When I was a kid I read lots of books about pirates, of all things. More recently I read those books Lou Sylvre (our author) wrote about Luki and Sonny—the Vasquez and James series. Fun! Because you know, Luki’s such a badass, but reading those books I found out all about his insecurities and soft spots. (Oh, don’t let him find out I said that, okay?)
Hey, thanks again for interviewing me. Made me think about stuff, and it’s been kind of fun. I like the idea of readers getting to know me a little bit. I’m afraid Lou isn’t always real nice to me in the books… sometimes she makes me look a little… well, never mind.
And there you have it folks, straight from Brian’s mouth… Now you know more about our hero from A Shot at Perfect by Lou Sylvre. If you’d like to purchase a copy, you’ll find the buy links below.
Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Anxious to leave London and its horrors behind, Brian Harrison and Jackie Vasquez move to Los Angeles. Brian hopes working for Luki, managing a small Vasquez Security branch, will leave him more time to live, love, and play with sub Jackie. But Los Angeles awakens old trauma for Jackie, and follows that with a brand new hit.
While Jackie struggles back to health after a crippling accident, Brian strives to find his balance as Jackie’s lover and Dom. Meanwhile, the more Brian defies the order not to investigate the disappearance of the previous branch manager, the deeper and darker the mystery gets.
Can the couple fan the lusty flames still burning between them, rekindle romance, and rise together in time to stand against looming dangers just ahead?
It seemed like a hundred years since Jackie had woken up to a Midwest snow day, though in reality he’d watched a blustery snowfall outside this very window in his and Josh’s old room in Kaholo’s house less than a year ago. He’d still been a student at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, and he’d come to visit his great-uncle over the MLK day weekend. He’d gone to bed that night with clouds obscuring a sickle moon, and in that misty light he’d dreamed sweet and sexy dreams of Brian Harrison.
He’d just found Brian again a few weeks earlier, six years after their first meeting — six years after Brian had helped rescue him from a sociopath at a crime lord’s compound in the Umatilla. Back then, Jackie, an already traumatized teen, had instinctively trusted Brian. When they’d met again last year, he still felt that way — intrigued, connected, and totally safe. He imagined at the time that he might have found a friend, a lover, and the Dom of his sub dreams. Hence the hot visions of Brian warming his dreams that wintry night.
Now, a year later, he smiled at the January morning outside his window, watched the frosted branches glitter under a pale sun riding low in a crystal sky, and snuggled back against that very same Brian in the flesh.
Despite calendar proof to the contrary, Jackie felt years older — no doubt because so much had happened in little more than a year’s time. He’d graduated from the University of Nebraska, got together with Brian, and spent four long, frustrating, scary months in London, England. When he’d left the States, he’d known better than to have specific expectations of what London would be like, or the university he’d be attending, or even seeing Brian more and becoming his exclusive lover and sub. But no one could have predicted the horror story those months in England had become.
Some things had been good — specifically the being-Brian’s-lover-and-sub part. Although, truthfully, Brian had been so busy with work that Jackie had spent a lot of frustrated time waiting for him to show or call or answer his phone. He wasn’t quite sure if trying to keep busy and keep his mind off not seeing his boyfriend was part of the reason he’d gotten into such deep, deep shit. But whatever the reason, it had been shit and it certainly did get deep.
Multiple murder deep. Pair of true psychos deep. Jackie’d had to save himself and a friend from them, and he’d pulled it off pretty well. Still, in the end Brian had come to the rescue with exquisite timing.
In the aftermath, Brian had been politely asked to resign his Scotland Yard job, and Jackie had been less than welcome to return to London University — somehow the blame for his psych prof having been a sociopathic murderer had come to rest on Jackie’s own compact, freckled shoulders. He and Brian had decided they would be all too happy to put London behind them. They’d packed up their things, Marley the cat and Soldier the dog, and booked their flights.
“Maybe we’ll come back someday, though,” Brian had said after they’d boarded the plane at Heathrow, U.S. bound. “I’ve lived here more than six years, and up until now, I loved it. If you were with me, I’d love it more.” Jackie would have been willing to talk more about the possibility, but as soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, with its accompanying reduced engine noise and unplugged ears, Brian got horribly, mercilessly airsick. The subject had never come up again, but he supposed it probably would sometime in the next year or two.
Meanwhile here they were, the two of them, still at Kaholo’s house after Christmas and New Year’s. They were enjoying a very long layover on the way to Los Angeles, where Jackie would be continuing to work toward his master’s and then hopefully his doctorate. Brian would soon be working for Luki. He’d been hired to manage the recently abandoned Los Angeles office of Vasquez Security.
Or, make that VSI — Vasquez Security, Incorporated. After recovering from cancer, Luki had taken a giant step back from his close management and daily work with the very successful business and made it a limited corporation, with Jackie, Josh, and Kaholo owning a 29 percent share between them. Luki held on to his own 35 percent while Sonny held 16 percent in his own right, meaning as a married couple they still had a controlling 51 percent of the business. The rest had been divvied up between Josh’s year-old daughter, Jade, a marvelous friend named Margie, and a stock pool for VSI employees. He’d explained to Brian and Jackie that decentralizing had been part of his plan, making branch managers much more independent.
“I guess that means you’re working for yourself, sort of,” Jackie had said to Brian later while they walked a path through the oak trees at dusk, throwing sticks along the way for Bear, Luki’s chow mix, and Soldier, whose white Belgian shepherd coat made him hard to spot in the snow.
“Hah!” Brian smiled and took Jackie’s hand, warming it even through their gloves. “I don’t think there will ever be even a hint of a question about who’s the boss at VSI, to tell the truth.”
Jackie had laughed and teased, “You mean the answer isn’t going to be Brian Harrison?”
Brian had actually snorted at the ridiculous idea. “Hell, Luki’s nickname is ‘Boss.’ I don’t think ‘decentralizing’ went so far as to change that. And besides who would ever want to argue with him?”
But when Jackie spoke to Jude, Luki’s office admin — who also happened to be a very good friend — she snickered.
“He just thinks he’s the boss,” she’d said. “And I let him go on believing.”
Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.
Jackie Vasquez knows he needs to submit to a Dom he can trust—just as much as he needs to manage his own life. He found the right Dom in Brian Harrison, and then romance beckoned them both beyond bindings and safewords. They take the first steps toward a life together in London, where Brian is pursuing his dream career at Scotland Yard, and Jackie is working toward a master’s degree. Their private hours deep in the night brim with both heat and beauty as Brian’s artful vision for bondage makes a masterwork out of Jackie, body and soul.
But time together becomes scarce as a series of horrific gaslight crimes keeps Brian at work and out of reach for Jackie much of the time. Though Jackie is faithful, he isn’t the type to sit and wait for his lover’s attentions. His self-assured ways and his geocaching hobby lead him to a dangerous discovery—all is not as it seems at the University. Trapped in the Gaslighter’s web, he’ll need to use every trick he knows to stay calm and buy time. But will Brian unravel the knot of mystery in time to save the man he loves?
Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.
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