Author Name: Lee Brazil
Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it's nevertheless one hundred percent true.
Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.
Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don't belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don't fit?
Then turn the page and see… there you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.
I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now, it's why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it's why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.
If I'd had my way, I'd have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and that's the best thing in the world to be if you ask me, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.
If I hadn't learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/crawlinbedwithlee/
Publishers: Lime Time Press, Breathless Press, Evernight Publishing
Cover Artist: Various
I had the opportunity to ask Lee some questions. Here are her responses:
1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.
I’m Lee Brazil, a writer of m/m romance. In a previous life I was at various times, an English teacher, a bookstore manager, a sales clerk, and a phone operator. Now I'm retired, I write. I write because I love reading, and while everyone knows there are millions of books out there, sometimes I have trouble finding the sort of thing I like to read. So I write it. The writing and publishing process is actually addictive.
2. You have an opportunity for one of your books to be made into a movie. Which one would you choose, and why?
Loving Jacob. It's a very complex story about relationships, forgiveness, and the enduring quality of love. I think it would play out well on the big screen.
3. What do you do while writing that others might find unusual?
*shifty eyes* Nothing, why what have you heard? *nudges secret stash box deeper beneath desk* Pay no attention to that. *sighs* Fine. I stop writing to bake when things are not going according to plan. Baking is sort of therapeutic to me, the ingredients always do exactly what they're supposed to, unlike characters in a book.
4. Do you listen to music while writing? If no, why not? If yes, how does it influence you?
Yes, absolutely. I think that music helps set the tone and the mood of a piece sometimes. Some of my characters are born of musical inspiration. For instance, Tom Petty's The Apartment Song, "Neighbors knocking on my wall...I don't miss it much at all." The song is about something else, but I thought about that single phrase, and how that sort of attitude could develop, and a character was born. He hasn't made his appearance in any of my books yet, so I can't tell you more about him.
5. How do you celebrate a new book?
Margaritas! I have yet to find a better way to celebrate anything! Well, except anniversaries. We celebrate those with a little more...uh. I’m going to shut up now and say thanks to everyone for stopping by to see me & Don’t forget to enter to win!
Less Than All
Nicholas Danville doesn’t trust his lover to share the depth of his attraction.
He knows full well Victor must marry to fulfill his duty to his aristocratic family.
Assuredly marriage will mean the end of their liaison.
A youthful indiscretion leads to a humiliating encounter between Nicholas Danville and Lord Victor Ware. Nicholas is sent home in disgrace, and Victor continues life in the Ton. Years later, Nicholas's reproving parents send him to town to attain a degree of polish before he prepares for life as a member of the clergy.
A chance encounter with an old friend leads to a new confrontation between Nicholas and Victor. This time, the attraction between them burns brighter, Nicholas is old enough to know his own mind, and Victor is done with self-denial.
From ballrooms to gardens and opera houses, Victor sets about proving that a passionate liaison between two men is possible even under the narrow gaze of the Ton
Less Than All excerpt:
Peter had evidently taken the time to pull his glossy Hessians back on because Victor had swallowed half the glass before he heard the door click behind him. Lifting the glass to study the amber liquid in the firelight, he spoke without turning around. "I pay you an adequate allowance to cover your own establishment Peter, exactly because I do not wish to find hordes of drunken revelers have invaded my home."
"I'm glad for Peter's sake that you're a generous man, My Lord Ware. But I'd hardly call our little gathering a horde."
Victor whirled about to find Danville lounging in altogether too close a proximity. A single lingering glance impressed upon Victor the slender lithe frame, lovingly outlined by tight buff colored breeches, fine white linen shirt open at the neck. Both his discreetly embroidered waistcoat and his black tailcoat hung open. Danville’s inappropriate dishabille enticed him as the devil tempted sinners. He held up a hand as though to ward off the smaller man, but Danville stepped impossibly closer, and Victor groaned as his blood thrummed and his head swam.
Strong arms wrapped around his neck, tugging his head down, and soft wet lips pressed lightly against his mouth. "I've waited years for this moment, Ware."
Then Victor gave up listening, gave up fighting the response of his body as an agile tongue probed the seam of his lips, seeking entrance. He accepted Nicky's kiss, opened his mouth to suck at the questing tongue. He chased Nicky's tongue for what seemed like ages, his body hardening and heating with lust.
His arms closed around Nicky's slender waist, hauling the man close so he could seek solace for the ache of his prick in grinding against the silk of Nicky's evening breeches. The shattering of his whiskey glass on the hearth broke the mood, and Nicky pulled away, retreating to the door.
"I'm going now." He paused, hand on the doorknob. A strangely earnest expression crossed his face as he tilted his head to glance back at the stunned Victor. "Shall I return? Or do you forbid Peter's friends the run of your home?"
He slipped from the room while Victor struggled to frame a coherent response.
Short of funds, Gareth proposes to wager for love. Does Gideon dare play out this hand?
Gideon Westwood is passing time at a debutante ball when he encounters a man from his past he'd give anything to avoid.
Unfortunately for him, Gareth Belmain isn't in the mood to be pushed aside.
A wager leads to a walk in the garden and a kiss to angry words.
Will a public challenge put an end to any hope they might have for a future together?
A Gentleman Never Does Excerpt:
"If you're short of funds, I don't wish to gamble with you for money."
Gareth smirked, painted lips twisting. "Such an honorable man you are. Fine then, if we shall not play for money, then we play for love."
A chill washed over Gideon. He shifted on the delicate chair, fearing it might splinter if he abused it too much. "For love?"
Gareth whispered, "You were used to love me dearly. We could play for that." Gideon's dismay must have shown on his face, and again he cursed his inability to master the stoic boredom society expected of its young men and women.
"Or maybe not. What stakes would you care to play for, my Corinthian friend?"
The sardonic emphasis on Corinthian hurt a bit, as he had no doubt that Gareth intended it to. It angered Gideon that Gareth held such power over him still, to arouse his emotions, his body this way. Instead of answering the question Gareth had asked, he let his hurt and anger have sway. "Why are you without funds? Too many hours of shopping in Bond Street, my dear?"
Gareth's blue eyes flickered and his narrow jaw tightened. Gideon's gaze focused on the tight pinch of his full lips. Those lips had touched his... He bit back a curse as his pantaloons grew uncomfortably tight. "Fuck." The coarse word was a hoarse whisper that he hoped no one else picked up on.
Gareth's tension faded and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "No, dear heart. A gentleman never pays his tailor before his gaming debts. If you must know, I played a little too deep the other night at that new hell, off Curzon street."
The lure of cards had always been impossible for Gareth to resist. They'd often played together at school and through long rainy days at home. So Gideon knew that Gareth might be susceptible to the lure of the cards, but he wasn't a bad player. While losing wasn't unheard of, it was rare. "I can float you a bit till quarter day if you like." Gideon offered.
"Kind of you, but no. If you were inclined to lose to me, that would be one thing. But I am not in need of charity." The cards were snapped down onto the table sharply. "Cut."
Breathless Press: http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&products_id=446
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CPT4PU0/ http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CPT4PU0/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00CPT4PU0&linkCode=as2&tag=pridepromo-20&linkId=DD3YKTD2U4CMO44S
When Randall Gretton's father leaves his family behind to seek out his lost love, Randall finds an unexpected sympathy in his father's actions. The dashing soldier takes completely to heart his father's advice to his children, "If you are fortunate enough to find love, then seize it."
Is a chance encounter at a masquerade Randall's chance at lifetime love?
Randall’s Romance Excerpt
He closed the door behind himself and turned the key in the lock. The book room was lit by a single porcelain candelabrum on the mantel piece. In the flickering candlelight he located Terence at the fireplace, swirling a snifter of brandy in his hand. Terence turned his head, tensing at the sound of the key turning in the lock.
"Never fear. It's just me. I'd about given up hope of finding you; there are so very many highwaymen present tonight. Next time you must choose a more singular disguise." Checking the room carefully for any other entrance, Randall realized Terence had chosen the perfect place for their encounter.
The highwayman glanced back at him, dark eyes glittering through the slits of his long mask. "I'd hate to draw attention." Hi voice was muffled by the mask, but Randall caught the faint foreign accent he aped and rolled his eyes.
Randall felt his blood heat as that hooded gaze traveled down his form. His cock stirred and this time he made no move to hide his interest. "Truth, Terence, attention is to be avoided, but there is something to be said for ease of recognition in these circumstances."
He crossed the Aubusson carpet to stand in front of his lover, drew the man to him. Terence came willingly enough into his embrace, but when Randall tried to raise the man's domino to reveal his features, Terence caught his hand in a gloved grip. "No. Just in case, we must be discreet."
"I did lock the door, you know." Randall buried his face in the fabric and tightened his arms, crushing Terence along his length. The man's costume was a miracle of tailoring, for he seemed to have even added padding to his narrow shoulders and lifts to his boots.
"Yes, but that might not be the only key."
Truly, Terence was more concerned than usual about being recognized! He'd even foregone his normal heavy drenching of spicy oriental scent in favor of a delicate sandalwood cologne that teased at Randall's senses quite delightfully. Reluctantly Randall released his crushing grip on the domino and let his hands slide down Terence's back to cup his taut buttocks through the thin pantaloons. "Very well, then. Come away with me for the night so we can be private."
"I cannot." Hard hands closed on his own buttocks, squeezed them meaningfully. Randall shivered. His cock thickened, his blood stirred. Terence pulled him closer still, so that their groins rested against one another. A few thin layers of fabric separated them, but the heat was as unmistakable as the thick ridge his prick rubbed against.
"But I leave tomorrow, I told you as much." Randall protested, grinding into the sweet pressure on his prick. "Never mind. If this is all the moment we have, then I want more than this." He wedged his hands in between their bodies, enjoyed Terence's gasp when he squeezed the man's prick through his pantaloons, and began working their garments open.
"You're very bold tonight." The breathless statement was followed by a swift, muttered curse as Randall caught their pricks in his hand and stroked them together.
"I?" Randall leaned into Terence and bit the man's ear lobe sharply. "I suggested we meet in the usual place, secure and behind closed doors. You were the one who had a hankering for challenging the ton. Is it turning you on, making you hot to think that just a few feet away the others are dancing and drinking and making merry?"
"Damn you, harder!" Terence's hand closed over his and Randall shuddered as the grip tightened, the rhythm roughened. He stared down between them, to where their hands slid up and down, squeezing drops of clear liquid from each prick that mingled and streamed down to slick the path of their movements. Terence's hand on his cock was more erotic than ever, and maybe it was the thought of being caught out, of the scandal that lurked, but his body was tensing, and beads of perspiration formed. He threw back his head, slipped his free hand down the back of Terence's pantaloons and into his small clothes. Terence trembled against him, Randall soothed him with a whispered word, cupped his buttock, and let his fingers trail along the crease of the man's arse.
"Have a care...we can't do that here."
"I am aware," he chuckled dryly, catching his breath. His fingers brushed over the puckered hole, Terence shuddered, his cock stiffening still further, the skin stretched so tight and fine Randal could swear he felt the man's heart beat in the blood that swelled his organ.
"Damnation...so very good." Terence was bucking into his grip, losing his rhythm. Randal rubbed the hole, pressed the very tip of his finger inside, and let the exultation flood him as Terence's seed spilled along his cock, in jet after jet.
"That's right." He murmured. "Give me your pleasure." He milked the softening cock of every last drop of seed, then wiped them both off with his handkerchief.
His cock throbbed with want, and he smiled at the man he'd come to realize was most decidedly not Terence. "At this point, Terence would drop to his knees and suck me. Are you of a like mind?"
"So you've realized I'm not your friend, have you?" The strange highwayman tucked himself away and refastened his pantaloons. "What happens now?"
"Now, I'm still in need of release, and you are a likeminded fellow it seems. If you cannot bring yourself to suck me, then your hand will do as well."
The black domino muted the man's laughter, but he obligingly dropped to his knees on the plush carpet and with a little deft maneuvering of his mask and Randall's cock, had him encased in wet heat and strong suction within moments.
Randall sighed and let his hands rest on the velvet of the mask, ordinarily he'd have twined his fingers in his lover's hair, to give his hands something to do. Idle hands are the devil's work his mother used to say, but then again...so was this sodomy. "You're very good at this," he sighed, sinking deeply into the wet mouth, enjoying the light scrape of teeth. His blood surged, an agile tongue toyed with the tip of his cock on each retreat, swirling and sucking, drawing rushes of pleasure from him as his body tensed, thighs stiffening. Heat pooled and exploded, and with it his seed pulsed into the receptive mouth.
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