Accidentally-Leigh-Paperback for promo

Bittermoon-3DBittermoon has finally been released.  You can purchase it here on Amazon.

Here’s an excerpt to whet your appetite.  🙂

I’d taken a power nap, there in my corner office, blinds drawn against the afternoon sunlight, since there was no telling how long this initial meeting would run, and I needed to be fresh. Not to impress the new client particularly, but so I wouldn’t miss subtle bits of information, hints at how he’d be to work with. If the guy was a jerk, I didn’t have to take the assignment, didn’t have to worry that they’d let me go. Being able to walk away was part of what kept me wanting to be there, oddly enough. The cage door was open. I was free. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd after all.

I timed it perfectly. There’s an art to taking control, and part of that is arriving at exactly the right moment. Being the first one there shows you’re desperate. Being the last says you’re indifferent. Being in the middle is an art. That thought brought a grin and a rush of blood to body parts I didn’t want to be prominent in this meeting.

A mental shrug followed as I opened the conference room door. If this guy was bothered by the sight of a hard-on, he wasn’t the kind of client I’d do well with. Nothing against straight guys at all. Some of my best fucks have been straight guys. They used to think they were anyway. Straight guys are fine. It’s the nutjobs I avoid. If this guy was that —

And then, there he was sitting at the dark mahogany table and everything else vanished. A Disney magic ‘poof’ and there was nothing else in the room, maybe in the city, except him. His eyes — ice-blue eyes — widened just slightly and the full lips, what I could see of them within his dark beard, quirked upward just a tick. He stood, hand extended to shake, and I realized how tall he was. I’m not short, a solid six feet, but this guy was taller by several inches.

The sizzle of desire that shot through me when our hands touched was nearly enough to drag a groan all the way past my carefully built barriers against showing arousal in the hetero world. His touch was slightly cool, and he held my hand just a fraction longer than was business protocol, at least for Americans. Italians aren’t so skittish about touching uomo a uomo, man to man. And that thought sent another liter of blood rushing to my cock. He twitched an eyebrow upward for an instant and then said, “Kesan Glendubh,” and looked expectantly at me.

I panicked like a middle school kid suddenly yanked out of a daydream to find the whole class and Sister I-Eat-Students-And-Not-In-A-Good-Way staring and no clue what’s been going on. I could see on the folder resting on the dark mahogany conference table that it was spelled “Kesan Glendubh”. But he’d said, “Kay-sun Glen-doo.” What did that mean?

The brow lifted higher. “And you are…?”

Ah, names! “Leo. Leo Ruggeri.” God, was I really that muddled by this Glendubh’s eyes? And beard. And mobile mouth. Stop the stupid shit, Ruggeri! I scolded myself often. I didn’t always listen, though.

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{April 6, 2014}   Coming Soon from Suzana Wyle



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