Wow. Over 45 authors giving away stuff. As you hop from blog to blog, think about a guy named Harey who has an incredible hopper for a friend.
No, Roger, I don't mean you. Forget about looney cartoons, I'm talking about a real rabbit. Your ancestor called a hare who became associated with a goddess by the name of Eostre.
The origins of Easter are well documented in pagan past. Spring finally breaks past winter, a fertility goddess supervises and it’s party time beneath a full moon.
Of course, it took a novel to explain the true deal behind the myth of a big bunny handing out painted eggs. And a ménage. And historical fact. It wasn’t all fun and sex and true love and sex and acts of heroism and sex when writing about the man who made the Easter bunny popular. I came across an episode in Briton’s past that was quite shocking. I do hope I gave voice to the fallen and anyone who reads my story will think upon true sacrifice as well.
I am no angel. Gareth’s shoulders slammed into the ground. A heavy body covered him, and the adrenalin jolting through him made him feel like a powerful animal. But I am in heaven. He tugged his arms free, wrapped them around Harey and grasped the back of Harey’s head. And I do not care if adulterous sodomites go to hell. He jerked him upward and took his lips.
No time for tender exploration. He had to show Harey who he belonged to, and it was not some bloodthirsty deity, or the daughter of a mass murderer. What if Aethelfrith, the devil who had ordered one thousand, one hundred and sixty-five men killed so they could not pray against him, had still lived? Harey would have walked into his knife with a smile, a pet hare, and promises of painted eggs.
I will not let this man leave me again. Never. Not ever. He’s mine. Gareth fought back his moan and deepened his kiss. Harey tasted so good, fresh and sweet like Maura, but firm and bony where she was all curvy softness. He intensified the pressure, relishing the feel of the lips he had desired for so long, and Harey yielded. Gareth rammed his tongue in, danced around, and then back out to repeat. He had never held a body to mirror his own like this, captive over him, and the sheer joy of not being gentle saturated him.
Thank you!! for particpating. Do leave a comment with your email address because someone picked at random will win a copy of Harey, or any story from my decadent list if Harey is already on your ereader.
Here's the list to continue: