Special Sunday Spotlight - Frey Ortega and Warmth of His Light

Welcome Frey Ortega back to this special Sunday Spotlight. I know I haven't had many of these, as of late, but Frey got me out of my hibernation :) Check out the first Blanchard Coven book, Warmth of His Light!

****

When Eos Hawthorne went to meet a friend one evening, he never expected his entire life to change. As if stumbling across a group of men fighting in an abandoned lot by his home wasn’t shocking enough—one of those men suddenly attacks him...with fangs and claws.

Vampire coven leader Julien Blanchard is having a bad day. After failing to apprehend a murderer and traitor to his coven, the absolute last thing he needed was a hapless human stumbling into the picture— especially an intriguing young man who, as it turns out, happens to be his mate.

Eos doesn't know if he believes in mating, and knows nothing about the supernatural world he is suddenly thrust into. Julien is a vampire who has always put his coven and his duty first.

Will their burgeoning love be enough to see Eos safely through the dangers he finds himself in? And even more so, can it make the cold-blooded Julien relinquish control and embrace Eos, and the warmth of his light?

Warmth of His Light is the first book of the Blanchard Coven series. It is M/M, HEA, and complete at 61,287 words.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Eos took a couple of steps back, almost as though he were right there in the midst of the action. He didn’t see anything else but the indistinct silhouette of bodies moving that he’d forgotten about the alley behind him, thinking he was about to get slashed at. Eos took a couple of steps back…and managed to hit his back loudly against what seemed to be a rather empty dumpster with a loud clang.

Well, it was mostly empty—except for a cat that gave an irritated yowl at being disturbed. It promptly sprung out at Eos, surprising him and making him jump.

“Shit!” Eos cussed. He twisted away, but his center of gravity was messed up by the sudden cat-attack and the fact that he had forgotten there was even a dumpster there at all. Eos fell flat on his rear right beside the dumpster…which he now noticed was leaking underneath.

But thank God I didn’t trip into the puddle of…whatever the hell that is. Eos wretched, fighting down the urge to barf.

Eos grimaced and not just because of the unidentified liquid dripping from underneath the dumpster that he was almost about to touch. Maybe the worst thing about this entire situation was that he had dropped his burger and soda, and now they were all over the concrete floor. Little cubes of ice splattered all over the now-very-wet pavement, some of which soaked into the wrapper of the once-pristine burger. He furrowed his eyebrows and frowned as he looked at what was supposed to be a nice little midnight snack.

“What a waste,” he muttered, and wobbled up to his feet. Eos checked himself for any scrapes or wounds, but aside from a sore butt and a bruised ego at being caught unaware by a cat, he was fine.

When Eos looked up, however, he’d noticed that the men he was eavesdropping on had stopped whatever they were doing and were now looking at him. Now, with their eyes trained on him, he could actually see their features more clearly.

They all suddenly had crimson-colored eyes, the color of blood, and the only reason Eos noticed was because they shone for the briefest moment when they trained their eyes on him. Didn’t one of them have blue eyes, earlier? And another had green ones, the color of forest foliage. The lanky one who was being surrounded had his teeth bared. No, not teeth—fangs.

Eos gulped. “Holy shit.”

Not only were the men blurs when they moved and fought, but they were…demonic blurs. Beastly blurs. Sexy, unsettling, demonic blurs.

That’s when he realized that the lanky, cornered man—with the eyes of a blood-crazed beast, the fangs of a demon, and the frenzy of an animal with nothing to lose—had broken through the three of them, and was now running straight for Eos.

As Eos closed his eyes and curled into a ball, one final thought came into his head…

I knew I shouldn’t have left the house today.

About the Author

Frey Ortega writes erotic romance, primarily of the gay variety. He lives in what a friend affectionately calls “the south-easternmost part of Spain,” which is an archipelago called the Philippines. He’s a graduate of the Royal, Pontifical, and Catholic University in Manila, with a Bachelors of Science degree in Psychology. Primarily, he works as a writer, a novelist, sometimes a video game journalist, and overall a homebody who spends way too much time on the internet.

He loves writing about people, especially people of all different shapes, sizes and backgrounds, falling in love. You might also find him playing video games from time to time! His favorite ones are MMORPGs, and role-playing games in general (and not just the ones in the bedroom.)

Visit his website at: http://www.freyortegawrites.com/

Follow him on social media:

Amazon

Twitter

Facebook

Facebook Fan Page

Frey's Facebook Group

Special Saturday Spotlight - Frey Ortega and Picking Up the Pieces

Welcome Frey Ortega to a special Saturday Spotlight. He's here to share a bit from his new release, Picking Up the Pieces. 

***

I'm Noah Linkletter, and I'm broken.

Shattered, really—and I've been trying my best to ignore my problems by chasing temporary highs wherever I can find them. I put my makeup on and dance my way through a club, and by night's end, I find a man who's willing to indulge in a little act of sin to help me forget the demons in my own head.

It only takes one moment for my entire world to turn upside down. I'm left bloody and beaten, but even through the haze I meet him.

Farid Hassan.

A man who is strong and intimidating yet calm and patient. A man who wants me, despite my demons. A man so wonderful, he's willing to help pick me up the pieces.

Maybe he'll succeed.

Amazon

Available for Kindle Unlimited

I turned my face up to the ceiling as he heaved and pressed against me from behind. A solid, hard body, brimming with virility. The scent of him was intoxicating, his cologne mixing with his sweat. He slid into me roughly, with full force. Covered by the loud music around us, the clapping of his body against mine was in time to the rhythm of the beat playing in the club.

He had one arm wrapped around my waist to draw me back toward him. His other hand grasped my neck firmly, not quite choking me, but making me wheeze every so often from the constriction.

I let out a soft, garbled cry, muffled only by my arm that I pressed against my lips. I bit down into the skin, making indents in my flesh from how harshly I was biting. 

There was no love here, no emotions. It was pure, carnal, bestial lust and attraction. I saw him from across the dance floor, his gaze met mine, and within ten minutes we’d found our way to a bathroom stall.

Some people are drawn to the casualness of it all. They enjoy the chase, and the pleasure, and the unsaid goodbyes as clothes are quickly put back on. It’s possible they might exchange numbers, when the fucking is good enough, in the hopes it might happen again. Others, like me, use it to fill a void, when the darkness gets to be a bit too much and the only way to stop it from closing in around me is with a distraction.

I revel in those moments of pure clarity when, for the briefest second, the only thing I am is a sheath for a cock—a hole to be used—and I can focus on the sensations of pleasure coursing through my body. They were like a drug to me, little jolts of pleasure-lightning emanating from my pelvis, throughout my core, all the way to my fingertips.

“Such a pretty boy.”

The man behind me was solid and warm and, from what I remember, he was attractive. Most importantly, his dick was rock hard as it slammed into me over and over with wild, reckless abandon. I could feel the steady slide of lube, and every so often he would lean back to dribble some saliva over where his cock met my hole and the lubrication would get nice and sticky again.

I gasped and smiled, feeling his fingers interlace with mine as he pushed our hands up to the walls of the bathroom stall. My knees buckled, and I bit down on my lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly. People outside the stall probably already knew what we were up to.
“You like that?” he whispered, his breath hot and tingly against my ear. I knew his words were just platitudes. He didn’t really care. Just like how our fingers were intertwined, I knew it was more an empty gesture than anything else. He wouldn’t be fucking me in a bathroom stall within the first ten minutes of meeting if he actually cared.

I didn’t mind. I knew what this was. I knew not to expect more. This was already enough.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little higher than it usually was but muffled by my arm. I knew if I showed some form of pleasure, he would be a bit more enthusiastic. Maybe it would even be enough for him to start pleasuring me. 

His thrusts became as erratic as his breath started to hitch. 

“F-fuck,” he moaned. “Pretty boy has a really tight ass.”

Inwardly, I sighed. He was close. I could feel it in the way he gripped me tighter. Sure, this felt good—but I had hoped maybe he would reach around, perhaps give me a little bit of common courtesy.

It was too much to hope for in a restroom fuck, I supposed.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed.

Moments later, we shuffled out of the bathroom stall, his load firmly deposited in the condom that had been flushed down the drain. I was sore in all the right places but managed to stuff my erection down my pants.

We were both in front of the mirrors. Some of my makeup had smeared from the sweat, and I had a serious case of raccoon eyes now.

Life went on, as usual.

About the Author:

Frey Ortega writes erotic romance, primarily of the gay variety. He lives in what a friend affectionately calls “the south-easternmost part of Spain,” which is an archipelago called the Philippines. He’s a graduate of the Royal, Pontifical, and Catholic University in Manila, with a Bachelors of Science degree in Psychology. Primarily, he works as a writer, a novelist, sometimes a video game journalist, and overall a homebody who spends way too much time on the internet.

He loves writing about people, especially people of all different shapes, sizes and backgrounds, falling in love. You might also find him playing video games from time to time! His favorite ones are MMORPGs, and role-playing games in general (and not just the ones in the bedroom.)

Visit his website at: http://www.freyortegawrites.com/

Sunday Spotlight - Frey Ortega and In Love In Lust

Welcome Frey Ortega back to Sunday Spotlight! He's here today to share a bit from his upcoming release, In Love, In Lust (Elysian Heights, 1).

****

Madison Wyler is a lust demon who’s in over his head as a relationship and sex columnist. Having been stuck in a rut for what seems to be forever, his sister gives him the idea to freshen up by doing what he does best: seducing a man to have sex with him. He meets Nolan Cook, a human male who intrigues him, and he finds his prey for the night.

Nolan is broken, however, having just split with his long-time girlfriend. Madison feels a kinship and a connection with Nolan that is as scary as it is instantaneous, but he finds himself going all in to try and help mend Nolan’s broken heart rather than trying to get into his pants.

Nolan is scared. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever love again, and this strange tie that binds him and Madison is too strong, too quick, and it throws his already off-kilter world even more off balance.

What is this connection that ties the both of them, and can they help each other find what’s missing? Can they meet each other in the middle of being in lust, or in love?

COMING DECEMBER 5TH!

Pre-order on
Amazon  *  Smashwords  *  Barnes & Noble

Coming Soon to all vendors

Chapter One

Dear Spiceless in Seattle,

If you’re thinking about trying to get zesty in the bedroom with your loved one, try some chili-chocolate sauce. My recipe has Tabasco and Jalapeño in it. The chocolate in the sauce is there for the sweetness, and the Tabasco will really get things hot and raunchy!

Sincerely,

Maddie

The worst feeling in the world might not have been this one in particular, but this was definitelyup there.

Madison Wyler stared blankly at the Word document on his computer screen. It was downright sinister, the way the little line blinked at him with every moment that passed. Hell, the document was basically taunting him, calling him out on his streak of horrible ineptitude.

Honestly, Madison didn’t know what to do at that moment except lean back into his chair and sigh.

With every passing moment, Madison was beginning to realize that he wasn’t qualified for this job. He was a lust demon, for crying out loud! He stepped into a bar and everyone wanted into his pants. Why did he think he was qualified to get a random, normal, non-pheromone-wielding, non-sexual-fantasy-tapping person into someone’s pants when all he needed to do was wink, giggle, and flip his hair back to get screwed by the end of the night?

Madison read through their problems every week and realized that in spite of their issues, he was jealous of them, too. They might’ve had problematic relationships, but at least they had relationships to begin with.

Madison ran his fingers through his hair. It felt a little greasy. Shit. The auburn red locks seemed a little less bright than usual, now that he looked in the little mirror to the side of his computer. He hadn’t washed his hair in three days, and his last shower had been about a day ago. Through the last week, he’d been in his little home office tapping away at his keyboard, and then deleting his work, waiting for a miracle of some kind so that he could continue with his writing.

There were dozens and dozens of emails in his inbox, and some of them were even open on his screen. Many of them were readers tuning in to his weekly column trying to get their problems solved—like how to get the fire kindling back in the bedroom, or how to create a safe space to explore kinks and fetishes together—and others were just complaints.

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure why he still had this job in the first place. In some small, fucked up way, Madison kind of thought it was because his editor loved the “tongue-in-cheek” way he was writing his columns and the comedic irony of his advice. Hell, most of his readers had come to realize that much of his writing was more along the lines of terrible than actually helpful. There were whole discussions online dedicated to the acknowledgement that Madison was actually so terrible, he was good.

Madison didn’t really have the heart to tell any of them that this wasn’t so much comedic irony as it was the flailing of a terrible advice-giver who was just trying his best.

Considering who and how they were, it was a surprise that Madison hadn’t ended up in a club, dancing by a pole or going into the escort trade. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was a surprise for people in his family. After all, the strongest lust demons could cause frenzies just from their merest presence.

There was a soft beeping sound followed by a little vibration rocking through Madison’s desk, and he immediately picked his phone up and frowned.

Hey gurl, you awake? Working?

Madison rolled his eyes. He knew his sister would be the one sending him a message.

Did you forget my name again, Lily? It’s Madison, you know. Your brother with the girly name because mom and dad thought they were getting another daughter.

Whatever. You didn’t answer my question, bitch.

“Bitch? Really?” He muttered to himself. The corners of Madison’s lips were curling upward in amusement. First it was “gurl” and now it was “bitch.” His sister was one of those self-proclaimed hags. She was extremely proud of it too.

Madison’s phone vibrated and gave a shrill little sound. It was Lily calling.

Trying to curb his exasperation, Madison lifted the phone to his ear. “You know, if I was working, this call would be considered a disruption,” he said, all sass. The sound of bass dropping in the background told Madison all he needed to know about where Lily was. There was the sound of hooting and hollering, and general drunkenness and debauchery, too.

“Well, hello to you too,” Lily said, voice shrill, trying to rise above the din of the club. She sounded about as drunk as Madison expected on a Friday night like this. “You know it’s fucking criminal that you’re working on a night like this, right?”

Madison smirked. “Yeah, well, I have to. There’s a deadline this weekend. My column comes out every Wednesday, remember? Hump day?”

It sounded like Lily was trying to head to a quieter part of the club because the music was becoming less intense. “Yeah, well, it’s only hump day for people who actually get humped. You know, for a lust demon, you’re not using your powers correctly,” Lily mused. “It’s Leather Night at Jizzie McGuire’s, so why don’t you put on that cute little leather harness I bought you for Christmas and hop on down?”

Madison rolled his eyes at that, but he let his sister continue.

“And then Obie told me about this cum-swap party at Holly Daze’s later on this evening, and it’s going to be all young jocks! Come on. Meet your favorite sister out for drinks before you get ratchet on some Grade A dong?”

Madison gagged at the thought, and not in a good way. Sure, he was a lust demon, but orgies were definitely not his thing. “Thanks, but no thanks, sis. I’m not a cum-swap party kind of guy.”

“You know, of the both of us, I’d make the better gay guy. You’re being a downright travesty right now,” Lily said. “If girls were invited to those parties I would live forever, bitch.”

Madison had no doubt she would. She was a one-woman perpetual motion machine. It was weird to have so much intimate knowledge about his sister, but lust demons were rarely reserved or secretive about carnality.

“Well, you know I’m more of a Drag Race and chill kind of guy, right?” Madison said, trying to be helpful. “I don’t really do all that. If I want to go get someone, I just go to a bar and pick a guy out. All that crazy club stuff is more your thing.”

Lily guffawed. “I know, right?”

Madison couldn’t help the smirk on his face, though. He pulled away from the desk and stretched, finally resigned to not being able to write as much as he could have. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied. Really, it was easier to just fluff up Lily’s self-confidence. Not that she wasn’t being truthful. After all, she was the one partying ‘til the sun came up every Friday. Madison was the one who preferred to sleep as early as he could because he needed his full eight hours of beauty sleep.

“I don’t know if I want to go out, though,” Madison answered back.

Lily scoffed. “You’re wasting your good looks out there. Your beautiful brick red hair and your porcelain skin are all lost on a homebody, you know that? Show off your shimmery hazel eyes and flash a little titty or something. Get out there and get your hole fucking destroyed, man. Maybe then you’ll get some of those creative juices flowing!”

Madison made a mental note to chastise his sister later on telling him to basically get fucked. Right now, the indignation was too strong, so instead, he scoffed. “You’re just trying to find an excuse for me to get out and party tonight, aren’t you? Also, ew, please don’t say that ever again. Please.”

“It isn’t an excuse if it’s true,” Lily said in deadpan. There was a long pause, and Madison could hear the sound of slurping. She was probably taking a big sip of her drink. “Wait. I just realized something.”

Uh oh. That was usually not a good sign. What kind of dangerous machinations were inside his sister’s head this time?

Madison tilted his head. “What, that you’re a raging alcoholic surrounding yourself with men who aren’t interested?”

Lily snorted. “There are bi guys here too, you know. And I’m not an alcoholic. Drinking drinks is just a thing that happens in places like these. I clean up pretty well!” Lily retorted. “But no, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I said come onto you earlier. I should have said, come on and then cum on. Get it? Like, because of the cum-swap party?”

Madison visibly retched. Yecch. Not that there was anything intrinsically wrong with that, it’s just that risky social situations were not his forte. Meeting new people, dancing with them, and having a one-night stand from time to time, sure—but a party specificallyfor swapping bodily fluids with other guys?

He was perfectly happy swapping that with just one guy at a time, thank you very much. And, he supposed, that was one of the few things that actually made him stand out from his fellow lust demons.

“Are you high, Lily?” Madison asked.

Lily snickered. “Nah, bitch, I’m just way more fun than you. Anyway, smell ya later, grumpy! You know, you really need to clean up and use that beautiful little butt of yours sometimes, otherwise it’s going to end up being like a fireplace you hardly ever use. Open up the flue and put a big piece of wood in there!”

Click.

Madison snorted. Lily always had to get the last word in, didn’t she? But he couldn’t fault his sister for that. She was right—in some ways, not all of them, not that he would ever admit that to her face—that Madison did need to get out. Maybe he just needed a way to get out of his funk. Finding someone in a bar seemed like the best solution to his problem.

He just needed to dress his best, turn his charm up, smile and flutter his eyelashes, and by the end of the night he would have firewood up his flue, as Lily so graciously described. And who knows, that random one-night stand could turn into something so much more. It probably wouldn’t, but if he didn’t allow himself the opportunity to experience everything he could… 

Madison turned back to his computer and watched the subtle blink of that little line on his Word document. Still, his work taunted him. Madison knew he had to get out of there, and fast. This wasn’t going to get done tonight, but maybe he could be.

Madison snickered.

And now he had to wonder, if the ability to think of naughty puns ran in the family, why couldn’t he have just found a job doing that?

Sunday Spotlight: Frey Ortega and That Damned Alpha

Welcome Frey Ortega to Sunday Spotlight! He's sharing a bit of his recent release, That Damned Alpha (Blackrock Hollow, Book 1)

***

Sage Holbrooke was a free-spirited rebel living in a backwaters pack with an overbearing pack leader and a hatred for all things alpha.

But that's because he was born an omega: automatically on the lowest rung of the social ladder. Having to deal with going into heat, alphas going into rut, making sure he wasn't going to be claimed without his consent, Sage lived a life with so many rules that he just wanted to break free. So he did. Anytime he could. With -anyone- he could bend the rules with.

That is, at least, until he met Javi Castellano.

And then everything changed.

That Damned Alpha is a short novel complete at 36,978 words. It involves no cheating, a HEA, angsty omegas, and headstrong alphas.

Amazon  *  Smashwords

Excerpt:

Sage Holbrooke never did say he was a shining example of how omegas should be.

He was a hunter—a go-getter—and when something was on his sights, he knew he had to go for it. Tonight, it was the man from across the bar.  The man had that glint of danger on him, along with a scent of virility so strong it was almost cloying, and a confident ease that belied every action he took.

This particular stranger was an alpha, and he was hot. Those two things were all Sage needed to know.

The sound of country music played around them, thrumming just under the din of people playing pool and resting after a hard day’s work. There were plenty of guys in the bar, some of whom were eyeing Sage up and down like the tasty morsel that he knew that he was. Others still, were looking at him in disgust, knowing exactly what he wanted and why he was there.

But Sage didn’t care about any of that. His eyes were trained right at this man at the other end of the bar, nursing his drink. The men around these parts usually looked the same, but not this guy. He had a certain…air about him. It was a quality that Sage couldn’t quite explain, but he was definitely attracted to. One look at the stranger, and Sage knew one thing they had in common, however.

They were both not from around here. That was good. There were less chances of any of Sage’s indiscretionsleaking out to his personal life. Small towns and small packs being what they were, some dude from this town could still find their way back to Sage’s hometown, yammer away about what he’s done, and life would become hell of a lot harder than it needed to be.

Truth was, Sage didn’t like “playing” where he lived. People in small towns had a way of yakking and gabbing about the people around them, and Sage already had a bit of a reputation where he lived. They called him a promiscuous omega. Being somewhere new, a couple of towns away, was better for Sage’s sex life. Sure, there wasn’t a gay bar in a hundred-mile radius of his home, but little truck stops like these were good enough for the kind of fun Sage had in mind.

Even if the whole “one-night stand with a stranger” scenario could be more dangerous for him than just becoming a social pariah.

Sage grimaced, and fought off the urge to shudder. He didn’t want to think about that right now. Just focus on finding a guy, and getting laid. That’ll stop you from thinking too much.

And that was really the only reason he would ever decide to leave Blackrock Hollow, anyway. Sometimes, the call of a really good cock could temper any rational thought. Sage wasn’t even in heat, but if he was, he was going to be doubly fucked. Nonetheless, he understood that when a guy needed a good fucking, he really needed a good fucking.

Maybe the desire to get utterly plowed was just one of Sage’s quirks, and not a universal thing. Still, it didn’t really change the fact that he couldn’t do this sort of secret rendezvous with anyone from his small town. People talked. He could only imagine what they’d say in the slightly-larger-than-usual chance that he got pregnant from one of these trysts, let alone if they just found out that the reason he went out of town so often was to have a night of anonymous sex.

He wanted as uncomplicated a life as possible. Finding some guy to have a one-night stand with a couple of towns over was easier, left no messes, and then he could go back to the quiet little hovel he called his home.

Blackrock Hollow, Sage’s hometown, wasn’t even a dot on the map, really. Theirs was a town in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere, smack-dab in the heart of what Sage considered rural America. Blackrock Hollow was about as nondescript a town as a town could be. He couldn’t really troll around for a one-night tryst there. There was barely, like, a hundred people in their town.

Sage inwardly shivered. It would basically be like incest.

The only reason they even functioned as a town was that they had their own post office. And though gay relationships existed in Blackrock Hollow, it was usually a result of an alpha claiming an omega to be their own. Omegas were treated worse than second-class citizens simply because they were different.

It was sickening, but Sage didn’t want to think about that.

But this guy—this man that made Sage’s inner wolf growl and yip and whine and scratch at his insides just to let the omega inside him loose—well, he feltdifferent. First of all, because he didn’t look like he was from around here, the way that people were eyeing him as warily as they eyed Sage. Second of all, because he just seemed to ooze sex appeal. There wasn’t an inch of this stranger’s body that Sage hadn’t ogled by now—well, what parts of him that Sage could see over the bar, anyway. Then there was the scent of him, which told Sage immediately that the man was a wolf shifter, just like he was. The smell in the air called to him like a moth to a flame.

And true, there were plenty of alpha wolves around, but not many who were actually built to lead. This guy didn’t just demand attention, he commandedit, and it was downright intoxicating.

Sage was piqued, maybe even aroused, from the very moment he set his eyes on the other man. It was beginning to win over the anxiety he was feeling. He went from tapping his fingers softly on the bottle, over and over, to actually sipping the alcohol and calming his frayed nerves.

This alpha was all muscle and strength contained in an almost-ratty white shirt. He had tanned, swarthy skin that was ochre in hue. Judging from some mild crisscrossing of slightly lighter-pigmented skin across his hands, some on his chest, and even on his neck, the stranger had his fair share of scars—he’d probably seen a scuffle or two that had turned serious in his time. He had an angular jawline and dark eyes that were downright piercing. His close-cropped black hair trailed down into a thick five o’clock shadow that wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

All that, andhe swigged back a shot of tequila without even so much as a grimace. There was that slightly playful, amused expression on his face, and the sum total of all of those parts put together basically ensured that Sage’s hard-on was stiffer than a board. An erection that was definitively caused by this bronze-skinned Adonis of an alpha.

An alpha whose eyes slowly met his, and they were actually a deep, rich brown in color. Striking. Piercing.

The man grinned. If it seemed possible, the intensity in his eyes seemed even stronger.

Was he interested? He definitely seemed interested.