Title: Love Off the Radar Collection
Author: A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly
Publisher: Torquere Press
Cover Artist:
Release Date: 6/8/16
Heat Level: 5
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 119K
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Synopsis
Love off the Radar features fourteen tantalizing, otherworldly tales of love, romance, passion, and mystery, by the best-selling team of A.J. Llewellyn and D.J. Manly. In Chaos, a fallen god looks for love at a truck stop. A young man hovers between love and death in Hardsex. Before Morning is an erotic, romantic, volcanic vampire tale set in Feudal Japan – with a serious twist. Mojo Rising is a scandalous tale of same-sex love set in the South Seas.D.J. Manly addresses BDSM in Disciplining Baron, and the two authors join forces for the paranormal title story Love off the Radar. Which will kill Mo Dingley first? Love, or a curse? Speaking of curses, Have you ever read the personal journals of a werewolf, or a vampire? Now's your chance! We've also got two very different love stories set in the time of Atlantis, and the sad but sweet Clean Monday, a coming-out story with a surprising hero. There are sexy, spicy tales involving zombies, where boys meet boys and almost…eat them. We have it all because love is love, and can't always be wrapped up in a neat little bow.
Excerpt
From the title story Love off the
Radar:
Mo should have
suspected the universe was about to hose him when he arrived at the office and
found the receptionist sniveling over her laptop. He'd assumed she was having
some personal crisis. He felt a little guilty now that he'd uttered a brusque
"Good morning" and had walked right by her.
When Jonathan Sampson personally
buzzed Mo and invited him into the conference room for coffee, he'd
assumed—again, stupidly—that he was about to be given a raise. He'd played the
imaginary conversation in his mind as he quickly combed his thick,
sandy-colored hair, straightened his bolo tie, and had run his fingertips over
his unruly eyebrows.
He'd walked in, full of smiles, hoping
to be commended for the brilliant job he'd done designing and overseeing a
synagogue completely built out of recycled materials and powered by solar
energy. It had appeared on the evening news, and Architectural Digest was
featuring it next month.
Mo suspected that the big-bucks job
hadn't impressed Buckley and Sampson because the synagogue was a GLBT one. And
gay didn't go down too well in the company, even though their lone gay
architect had, in three short months, brought them almost four million dollars
in revenue.
No. What he got was a year in
fingle-fangled Japan. It beat his last job where he'd spent a year in Kentucky
designing the same ergonomic office spaces over and over again.
Mo stared into his still full cup
of coffee, prepared for him by the sniveling receptionist. He wondered if she'd
wept into his cup.
"Well?" Sampson asked.
"May I think it over
tonight?"
Mr. Sampson looked disappointed.
"I'll give you twenty-four hours. You'll need to leave by Monday."
Mo swallowed. Hard. "What
about the accounts I'm working on?"
Mr. Sampson couldn't look at him.
"We're going to hand them over to some of our junior executives."
"But those are my accounts. My
relationships brought in those deals." Asshole. I just figured it out.
They used me to get the contracts, now their straight account executives are
going to complete the projects. They'll never do the job I could do.
He left the
office for the meeting he'd scheduled with the rabbi. He adjusted his black
Stetson on his head, straightened his bolo tie and used a bristle brush to
clean his black suit. Not that he needed it.
It was always good to make sure
though. Sometimes when he morphed back into human form, he forgot himself and
wolf hairs stuck to him.
Damned curse.
He stared down at his black cowboy
boots. He'd come to California with three pair and these were his favorite,
lucky boots. Well, they weren't so lucky this morning.
Mo drove to West Hollywood in a
daze, trying to imagine not being here anymore. He was surprised when he hit
the turnoff on the ten for La Cienega Boulevard and headed south. On Pico, he
found street parking and almost didn't pay for the meter. Just out of spite.
But it would be just his luck if a parking ticket haunted him across the
Pacific.
He slid his credit card into the
meter, paid for two hours, not that he thought he'd need it, then stood back to
survey his golden beauty. From the outside, the synagogue looked very
utilitarian. Inside, it was cozy, temperate, and gorgeous. As he strode into
the building, he admired once again the carpet that had been fashioned by his
ex-lover, Andrew, out of recycled jeans.
Each and every item used in the
construction of the Temple Ruth Center had been a labor of love for Mo, and the
artisans he'd brought in to help him with the project. Though not Jewish, he
admired the rabbi, Beth Cohen, and the synagogue's motto of ikkun olan (repair
the world).
He believed in beautiful spaces. He
believed in being responsible and being accountable. Even as he shook the
rabbi's hand and greeted the reporter from Architectural Digest, he knew his
time in LA was short. He could sniff it out, like a coming Santa Ana wind and
knew.
Mo Dingley was going to Japan.
He slept badly, falling into a
restless snooze on the sofa whilst watching a design program on HGTV. He awoke
to canned laughter and raised his head from the cushions tucked under his arm.
Somehow he'd rolled over onto the remote and he'd hit an obscure cable station.
An old episode of Seinfeld was playing. He'd never seen this one before, but in
it, Kramer was renting out drawers in his bedroom bureau to stranded Japanese tourists.
He watched as Kramer tucked them into their makeshift beds, wishing them a good
night's sleep.
I can't sleep in a drawer! Are beds
really that small there?
He hit the Internet and checked the
address that Sampson had written down for him. He was astonished at how
wonderful it seemed. The apartment, located in the neighborhood of Akasaka (Red
Hill in English) in the Minato-ku district, was right near his new office, and
two blocks from the American Embassy. According to the blogs he read,
foreigners gravitated toward this area because of its international
supermarkets. Almost everybody spoke English. During the day, it was a
hard-working business area. At night, its restaurant and clubs ensured a busy
evening, as well. Weekends, according to his research were much quieter,
because the working men went to their own neighborhoods.
The ancient streets featured some
geisha houses, which tickled him. He wondered if there were gay ones. How far
was it from the gay district? And what was it called, anyway? He checked.
Shinjuku Ni-ch?me. Popularly known as Nich?. Now that looked really cool.
Saunas, coffee shops, bars. Beautiful men.
As long as he could escape into
solitude each full moon, he'd be fine.
I think I could live there. He studied the
apartment building. The Akasaka Tower building was so tall it made him dizzy
looking at him.
This ain't no mustang ranch, sport.
He took a deep breath. He was able to view an apartment via virtual tour. It
looked very modern and clean, with granite countertops in the kitchen and
surprisingly huge windows overlooking the city.
The bedroom looked big enough. It
sure beat the heck out of being unemployed.
He eyed the time on his VCR/DVD
player. Ten fifteen P.M.
On the TV, as Jerry and Elaine
acted shocked about Kramer renting the Japanese tourists his bedroom drawers,
Kramer defended himself by saying, "Have you ever seen the business hotels
in Tokyo? They sleep in tiny stacked cubicles all the time! They feel right at
home!"
He sighed at the racist overtones
to the plotline. Maybe this was his opportunity to offer his input into ikkun
olan. Maybe he could help in some way make a contribution to repairing the
world.
Mo picked up the phone and called
Jonathan Sampson. He wasn't surprised when the man answered.
"I'm
in," was all Mo said. And then he started to pack.
Torquere Press
Meet the Author
A.J. LlewellynA.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels. A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.
D.J. Manly
I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't written and told stories. When I'm not writing, I'm dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.
Social Media Links:
Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/A.J.-Llewellyn/e/B002DBJBC2
Facebook: www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn www.facebook.com/dante.manly
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/ajllewellyn
Twitter: www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn www.twitter.com/djnovels
Website: www.ajllewellyn.com www.djmanlyfiction.com
Giveaway
Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win an eBook copy or a signed paperback copy of Love off the Radar.
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