Lee Brazil’s Loving Jacob
The ever fabulous Lee Brazil joins me today for his latest release Loving Jacob. Being the super fangirl that I am, I asked him to write a book crossover for me and I gotta say he knocked it out of the park with this. Some come and read the amazing scene where Jacob and Malcom (Loving Jacob) meet Jason and Morgan (The Park at Sunrise). After the scene, read all about the book and an excerpt that will leave you wanting more. At the bottom enter for a chance to win an ARe giftcard.
At The Gallery
“This painting is amazing.” Jacob tilted his head to the side and studied the artwork before them.
“It does hold a lot of emotion.” Malcolm’s hand in the small of his back made Jacob feel comforted, loved. “I wonder who they are?”
Jacob eyed the painting critically. Three men on a bench in a park with the sunrise a brilliant background. Their hands were clasped in an intimate pose that seemed to seal out the whole world around them. “They were lovers… whoever they were.” His glance flicked to the tag, seeking information. “This artist is fabulous. I liked his other pieces, but this one…”
“It’s not for sale.” The voice, so close behind was stern and Jacob startled guiltily before he remembered that he was an adult looking at artwork on display in a gallery showing not a teenager who’d been caught sneaking peaks at a comic during math class.
“So we gathered from the tag,” Malcolm responded dryly.
Jacob turned and found a man with long dark hair that hung well past his shoulders staring at them from dark eyes. His face was lean, nose prominent, eyes a deep dark blue. Dark jeans, leather trench coat… he had a suitably bohemian look, but something about him defied the term artist. “That’s you!” He blurted, as he recognized the features.
“One of them.” The man nodded, a faint blush coloring his cheekbones.
Fascinated, Jacob leaned closer… “What’s the story behind the painting?”
Pain tightened already thin lips. “It’s not a happy story–”
“But it is a love story.” Jacob interrupted. Malcolm put a hand on his arm, reminding him that not everyone wanted to share their lives with the public.
“It is.” The man glanced over his shoulder, gestured to someone, then turned back smiling. “I’m sorry. I can’t speak for the artist. I’m Morgan, and I’ll let Jason tell you what he wants to about this painting.”
Jacob smiled in return, “That’s all I wanted to know. It’s a love story…” He trailed off as another man approached- this one every inch an artist, from his paint smeared jeans and hands to his sandaled feet. More importantly, he was also one of the men in the painting. “It’s your story.” he finished, feeling like he’d intruded into their lives. But if they didn’t want questions… why put the painting on display?
“I’m Jason. And you are correct. This is our story… the beginning of it, the end of it…” His gaze grew a little sad as he studied the painting over Jacob’s shoulder, and Jacob felt even more like an intruder than he had.
Malcolm’s arm slid around his waist, and Jacob leaned into his husband, regretting the direction the conversation had taken.
As usual, Malcolm stepped in to save him. “I’m Malcolm Jenner and this is my husband, Jacob. We’ve been admiring your work, and this painting in particular speaks to us. Our past… the path we traveled in order to stand as a couple today wasn’t easy either, and I think this painting… it speaks to us on the level of someone who’s gone through a similar experience. Do you do commissions? We’ve been looking for a way to commemorate our anniversary.”
When Malcolm Jenner’s sex-on-the-side turns into more,
he isn’t above begging for a second chance.
High profile attorney Malcolm Jenner is looking for a bit of fun, nothing serious. He’s got duties and responsibilities, after all. Though he’s not one to choose his lovers from the office, Jacob Renault is an attraction too compelling to resist.
However, Jacob isn’t interested in temporary. He wants it all—Prince Charming, the castle, the happily ever after. There’s no rule that says the younger man can’t have fun while he’s searching for his prince, though…
At first neither is willing to compromise on their stance, but an agreement is reached, with each man planning to do his best to subvert the other to his viewpoint. Lust turns to love, and what’s impossible becomes merely improbable, but is it going to be enough?
Malcolm stood in the hallway, gritting his teeth and reminded himself that an office fling with a man who had to be at least ten years his junior was out of the question. He and Penny had long since relinquished any pretense of monogamy in their marriage and reached an amicable agreement to conduct their affairs discreetly out of respect for their son and their friendship. Fucking purple-eyed twinks in the elevator at work? Not discreet.
He kept his gaze focused on the gleaming silver metal of the doors as the elevator made its excruciatingly slow way up to the third floor. His glance flicked to the reflection beside his. The younger man stood casually, shoulders propped against the wall, licking pink lips. His purple gaze in the hazy reflection was focused…fuck…on Malcolm’s obvious erection beneath his dark dress pants. Discretion. Discretion, he snarled at his libido. There will be no casual hookups with people from the office, he warned his eager cock. He shifted to the side slightly, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal from the other man. Damn it. That kid had the sexiest eyes he’d ever seen. He wanted like hell to see them glaze over as he fucked the tight ass hinted at by the khaki pants he wore. He didn’t go much for the intimacy of face-to-face encounters, but for the sight of those eyes and that mouth in the throes of orgasm, he’d make an exception. His tendency toward quick casual encounters disguised his preference for male partners and kept word of his homosexuality from getting back to his parents, his partners in the firm, and out to the public.
A law office, like any other place of business, was a microcosm of the world at large. Malcolm knew from being on the receiving end of gossip from his secretary, Marge, that every action and interaction between employees was fodder for the gossip mill. Being the subject of water cooler gossip lacked appeal and offended his sense of dignity, as did the knowledge that he apparently couldn’t control his urges around the tech guy.
He threw in the towel and gave up the fight against his attraction to the young man from the technology department when he caught that sultry purple gaze on his cock for what must have been the hundredth time as the slight young man brushed against him in an intentional teasing slide while he tried to exit the elevator on the second floor.
Impulsively, Malcolm grabbed Jacob’s hand and pulled him back inside the otherwise-empty space. He kept that small, soft hand locked in his own as he allowed the heavy metal doors to slam shut and the elevator to rise to his own floor. There he slapped his palm against the button that prevented the doors from opening. He’d had all the titillation he could stand. Malcolm swept the young man into his embrace. He tilted Jacob’s head upward with one hand and dropped his mouth passionately, almost brutally, to kiss the other man. His other hand tangled in the black curls that had taunted his senses over the past weeks. He forced the soft pink lips apart, then swept his tongue inside. Instantly he was absorbed in the heated, slick haven of Jacob’s mouth. The honeyed sweetness drew him further in and his tongue eagerly sought the textures and flavors that had been hidden there. Fuck. He could drown in the wet heat he found behind those soft lips. It was addictive. Jacob didn’t even try to escape the kiss; he seemed to be doing his best to encourage it. He brushed his tongue against Malcolm’s, sweeping it gently along the roof of his mouth, seeking and finding the sweetest spots. Both men were panting heavily when their lips parted.
Malcolm pulled back and spoke harshly. “Is that what you’re after, little boy? You want a quick fuck in the elevator to start the week off right?”
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?
Someone hands you a book, and then you 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 I’ve come to realize that’s the best thing in the world to be, 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.
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