Charity Sunday: Doctors Without Borders - #CharitySunday #DoctorsWithoutBorders #giveaway

Welcome to my last Charity Sunday of 2018. I asked the members of my VIP Readers list which charity I should support today: PlannedParenthood, Doctors Without Borders or Amnesty International. All three of these organizations are favorites of mine, and all of them got votes, but Doctors Without Borders was the clear winner. Readers also offered suggestions for several other charities—which I will support in future Charity Sundays.

In case you’re not familiar with them, Doctors Without Borders, also known as Medecins Sans Frontieres, works to provide health care and humanitarian assistance to refugees, people in conflict zones and victims of disasters. The medical professionals involved volunteer their time and knowledge, often in perilous circumstances, to help other human beings, around the world. MSF is currently active in Yemen, where civil war has devastated the population and millions are on the verge of starvation; in South Sudan, where new violence has erupted; on the U.S. border, where Central American migrants deal with hunger, squalor and disease as they wait for word on asylum petitions. What I particularly love about MSF is the fact that they never take sides. They will help anyone who needs it, regardless of their affiliation. In fact this courageous position often puts volunteers on the ground in severe danger, but the organization will not compromise its principles.

Anyway, as is the case for all Charity Sundays, I will donate one dollar to MSF for each comment I receive on this post. I’ll leave this open until January 2^nd. In addition, I have an excerpt from my holiday BDSM erotic romance tale Silver Bells, which is one of the stories in my Coming in Costume volume. I will give away two copies of this book to randomly selected people who leave comments.

May your days be merry and bright!

“Tinkle, tinkle.”

I nearly dropped my cup into the punch bowl. Under my loose black velvet tunic, my clamped nipples throbbed with fresh heat. Blood rushed to my cheeks as well as to my steel-pinched clit. Embarrassment and lust mingled until I didn’t really know what I was feeling. It was simultaneously awful and delicious.

I didn’t dare whirl around to discover who had whispered the taunt in my ear. The tiny silver bells Greg had affixed to the thumbscrews above and below might ring more loudly. Swallowing my moan and gathering the shreds of my dignity, I turned at a stately pace to find Greg’s old friend James standing behind me, sporting a naughty grin.

“Did you say something, James?” I managed to hold his gaze with some degree of poise, though I knew my face must be flushed. Wearing my party heels, I was only a few inches shorter than my guest. Behind his wire-framed spectacles, his brown eyes gleamed with mischief. For the hundredth time I wondered how much he knew about the nature of Greg’s and my relationship.

“Just that it’s a lovely party, Isabella,” he replied. Was he laughing at her? “Simultaneously elegant and festive. You’re a very talented hostess.”

“We’re glad you could make it.” I was astounded at how cool and in control I sounded. The ache from my tortured nipples and clit was nothing compared to the fear that my perversity might be revealed to the outside world.

“Well, when I found out about the conference here in Manhattan, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Especially since it was close to the holidays. I’ve been wanting to visit you two for quite a while. Seems like ages since the wedding.”

“Just a year and half.” James had been Greg’s best man. Apparently they’d known each other since college, and kept in touch through grad school. Greg had implied more than once that James had kinky interests that paralleled his own, but I thought it was unlikely he would have shared the thrilling and sordid details of our sex life, even with his closest friend.

My husband was a very private person. We didn’t go to clubs or play parties. He enjoyed threatening me with exposure, and we’d occasionally engaged in some semi-public scenes (the sudden recollection of one spanking in Central Park set my pussy flowing), but most of the time he preferred to test and torment me at home. To be honest, I was the one with the exhibitionist fantasies. Greg understood my warped mind only too well. Hence the bells.

“California’s quite a ways from New York. And of course, I’ve been really busy with work.” James looked exactly like the Silicon Valley super-nerd he was: unruly black hair too long to be fashionable, geek glasses, a sensitive mouth, penetrating eyes, a complexion without the slightest trace of a California tan. He was well built, though, neither flabby nor too skinny. The company he’d founded must have had a gym. “I’ve thought about you quite a bit, though.”

About me? About us? I didn’t have the nerve to ask.

Don’t forget to leave a comment! Help MSF help others. And please include your email address, obfuscated if your prefer, so I can find you if you are my winner.

Charity Sunday: Habitat for Humanity - #CharitySunday #home #holidays #GivingTuesday

The winter holiday season is upon us, a time for gathering with friends and family and sharing our blessings. In the US last Thursday, we celebrated Thanksgiving. Next week is so-called “Giving Tuesday”, a recently-established day of charitable giving intended to counter the commercialism and materialism that has overwhelmed the festive season.

I’m not waiting until Tuesday. Today, I’m donating to Habitat for Humanity, an organization that helps create safe, secure, affordable shelter for people who live in slums, who are homeless, or who have lost their homes to disasters. 

What I love about Habitat is its concept of “sweat equity”. Volunteers and future home owners work together in building homes. A Habitat home is not a hand-out, but the product of commitment and hard labor. In addition to new construction, Habitat also renovates existing homes in many communities, particularly in urban areas, helps people repair and improve their own homes and neighborhoods, and works to raise awareness and support for decent and affordable housing around the world.

The concept of home is particularly poignant at these time of year when so many of us go “home for the holidays”. So as usual on Charity Sunday, I’ll donate one dollar to my chosen charity for each comment I get on this post.

Please comment. Please share. And please be grateful for your own home, and be generous to those less fortunate.

Of course, I also have an excerpt for you. This is from my MMF holiday ménage Almost Home.

Blurb

Home is a state of heart.

Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for

years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career. A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele. Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home.

Excerpt

The mug of tea cupped in her hands chased the last bit of numbness from Suzanne’s fingers. Propped up on a couch in Gino’s spacious kitchen, swaddled in quilts, she watched him toss another log on the roaring fire. He moved with easy grace, a man at home in his own skin.

The heat from the blaze matched the desire simmering in her belly. She felt her body expanding, unfolding. Her tension and fear evaporated. In their place came delicious comfort edged with arousal. Gino poked at the glowing timbers piled on the hearth. She admired the line of his broad back and the curve of his buttocks under the stretched denim.

“Gino,” she called softly. “Come here.”

His smile rivaled the blaze he tended. “Suzanne?” He sauntered over to sit beside her half-prone form. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.” She grasped his hand, entwining their fingers. He laid his other hand on top. It might have just been a gesture of friendship, but it sent sparks swirling through her. Her nipples tightened into hungry knots.

“You know, Suzy, I had this strange feeling. Jack and I had just settled down to our annual game of chess—one of our traditions—when suddenly I knew I had to leave. I told them I had a headache, and actually, it felt a bit that way—some kind of urgent need pounding in my skull. When I saw the car burrowed into the snow bank, I knew right away that it was you.”

“I’m so grateful.” He was close enough now that she could smell him, wood smoke with an undercurrent of wintergreen. “I was pretty scared.”

“You should have let me drive you,” Gino scolded. “But then you always were stubborn.” He leaned back, away from her, and released her hand. Suzanne wanted to pull him closer. Why did he hesitate? Didn’t he know she wanted him?

“I’ve got to be back in California by Monday morning,” she murmured. “Important meeting. But I don’t suppose there’s any possibility of getting to my hotel tonight, is there?”

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” Gino replied triggering a laugh that relieved some of the strain. “The governor’s called for a state of emergency. The Mass Pike is closed to all but emergency vehicles. Latest forecasts say we’re going to get two feet.” He caught her eyes as though trying to read her thoughts. “Lady, you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

Suzanne reached for him. “In that case, why don’t you kiss me?”

He allowed her to bring his lips within inches of hers. Then he stopped her. “Are you sure? I got the idea back at the party that I made you nervous. That you still weren’t interested in being more than friends.”

“You do make me nervous—but in a good way. I feel like a teenager when you’re around, hot and bothered, excited and embarrassed. You’ve always made me feel that way.”

“And that’s good?”

“I’m beginning to think so. Why don’t you kiss me and we can find out?”

He didn’t need a second invitation. Sliding his hands under the blankets, he gathered her to his chest and planted his firm lips on hers. Even though she was expecting this kiss, it still shocked her. Sudden heat swept through her like a forest fire. Any last reservations burned to a crisp. He took possession of her mouth, scarcely allowing her to take a breath. Meanwhile his hands roved over her curves, sending waves of electric pleasure shimmering down to her sex.

The velvet transmitted every brush of his fingertips. She might as well have been naked. It hardly mattered that she was wearing a bra or panties. He rolled one brazen nipple between his thumb and forefinger, waking tremors in her clit. She gasped into his mouth. He cupped her damp mound through her clothing, his lips still glued to hers. She spread her legs, begging for more, and he obliged, rubbing the velvet back and forth along the groove of her pussy.

His groping made her increasingly desperate. As though he read her thoughts, he broke the kiss. “I want to see you naked,” he breathed. “I always have.”

Don’t forget to leave a comment. Every one helps build homes for people who need them!

Uncle Leon Soup - @HarperJewell #GayRomance #Christmas #FreeBook

By Harper Jewel (Guest Blogger)

Now that the 2017 holiday season has begun, I’m sure everyone has a fond holiday memory/tradition that has been passed down through the family. A family memory/tradition--one that my family stopped following once my grandmother passed away--I will forever cherish is helping Grandma make Uncle Leon Soup.

Grandma, although not born in Italy, spoke fluent Italian and French as her parents immigrated to the United States shortly before she was born. Whether the recipe for Uncle Leon Soup was one passed down from my great grandmother or whether Grandma came up with this one all on her own, no one in the family knows, but it’s something I miss at Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.

I firmly believe being in the kitchen and cooking for the holidays always made Grandma happy. One thing my brother and I could count on: being kitchen helpers when it came time to make Uncle Leon Soup. Of course, we always asked how this yummy recipe ended up with the name Uncle Leon Soup, and no matter how many times Grandma told us the story, it never got old or boring.

When growing up, Grandma’s best friend Rose, my mom and her sister called her Grammy Rose, married Arthur Weingartner and they had a son named Leon who my mom and her sister called Uncle Leon. Grammy Rose and her family were always included at Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas Eve dinner. The first Thanksgiving dinner to which the Weingartners were invited Grandma made this soup, which consisted of breadcrumbs, parmesan cheese, eggs, and a dash of nutmeg, Leon claimed it his favorite dish ever. Thus the name Uncle Leon Soup was born.

My brother and I never had the opportunity to meet Grammy Rose or her family, but pictures remain of Grandma and her friends. Watching and participating in the making of Uncle Leon Soup always put smiles on our faces. Grandma would lug her huge crank-handled meat grinder--remember this is from a six-year-olds perspective--up from the basement and attach it to her thick wooden kitchen table.

We took turns mixing the ingredients in a bowl then shoving handfuls of the mixture into the top of the meat grinder. Turning the crank was a chore as it required lots of elbow grease, but my brother and I shared in the duty. As the “noodles” came through the holes at the other end of the grinder, Grandma would cut them into a bowl. Once all of the noodles were ready, they’d be put in a pot with chicken broth and simmered on a low flame for at least an hour before it was pronounced ready to eat.

I suppose if I got my hands on a new electric meat grinder, I might someday try making my own Uncle Leon Soup, but I don’t think it could ever compare to my memory of Grandma’s creation.

In RIPPING OFF THE MASK, Cooper Brandt’s holiday memories are marred by a tragedy that took place the night before his high school graduation. As self-imposed penance for the heartbreaking misfortune, Cooper forced himself to wear a mask much like a hair shirt.

When Sergeant Cooper Brandt, thirteen years later, let his mask slip while in pursuit of some bank robbers, a second gut-wrenching catastrophe takes place. Taking full blame for this debacle, Coop swears he’ll never make that mistake again.

Upon meeting aqua therapist Dr. Westley James, Cooper curses the fates as he begins to believe that Karma has decided to retaliate for his misstep.

Westley’s first impression of Cooper isn’t a good one, but he’s willing to give the sergeant another chance.

Several more hairpin turns in the road await Cooper and Westley as they both strive to make holiday memories of their own. To find out if they succeed, be sure to read RIPPING OFF THE MASK by Harper Jewel, published by Loose Id.

Blurb

Can injured Sgt. Cooper Brandt, with the help of Dr. Westley James, rip off the mask he donned as self-imposed penance at the end of high school, or will fate determine a different path for both men?

Thirteen years after high schooler Cooper Brandt suffered a life-altering tragedy, Newark Police Sergeant Cooper Brandt suffers yet another earthshaking misfortune while on duty. As a result, he lets the mask he donned because of his first grief-filled setback slip. When overwhelming guilt consumes him for a second time, an unexpected, and oftentimes unwanted, helping hand tries to force him into making a choice: face his demons and rip the mask off, or continue living a lie while his facade stays put.

Upon his move to New Jersey, aqua therapist Dr. Westley James meets his toughest patient yet when a snarly police sergeant accuses him of duplicity at the start of their first session. When he discovers the reason for Cooper’s ornery attitude, an odd, empty feeling he’s lived with for as long as he can remember begins to fill in like missing pieces of a puzzle.

As a fragile relationship between Cooper and Westley grows, an unhinged sociopath threatens to ruin everything. Will fate force the emotionally bruised sergeant to fasten his mask on even more tightly or will the couple’s blooming love and partnership be strong enough to help Cooper rip his mask off for good?

Excerpt

They made their first stop at Dunkin’, and as promised, Silvio ran inside while Coop remained in the police vehicle. A few minutes later, with coffees in hand, he returned to the squad car and handed Cooper his iced coffee—black, no milk, no sugar.

“Thanks, Sil. Did you get your regular?”

“Sure did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you might surprise me and forgo the coffee-milk you favor and go with something different for a change.”

Silvio stared blankly at his partner. “Coffee-milk?”

“Come on, you can’t possibly call what you have in your hand coffee. You tell the baristas to give you a medium but put it in a large cup and then ask them to add at least a full cup of milk to it. Seriously, man, how hot can it be after that? And why would you want to drink something even remotely warm when it’s already close to eighty degrees outside?”

“I don’t like my coffee too hot, but I don’t like it iced either. Besides, haven’t you heard that milk does a body good?” Silvio shrugged and gave his partner a smug, tooth-baring grin.

Coop burst into laughter. “You’re such a dork.”

“At the risk of sounding too dorky, suck it up, buttercup. You’re stuck with me. So you keep your end of the bargain and drive since I did the buying.”

Buy Links

Loose Id - http://www.loose-id.com/ripping-off-the-mask.html

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0784243KY

B&N - www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ripping-off-the-mask-harper-jewel/1127524718

Google Play - https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Harper_Jewel_Ripping_Off_the_Mask?id=xChADwAAQBAJ

iBooks - https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/ripping-off-the-mask/id1315916577

Kobo - https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/ripping-off-the-mask

About Harper

Harper Jewel lives in northeast New Jersey with her husband and college-age daughter. She has two cats, enjoys reading, and taking trips to Walt Disney World. With her outgoing personality and vivid imagination, she can create characters and plots that are believable as well as memorable.

Although she began writing male/female romance/erotica, she has finally found her niche in Gay Romance. She thoroughly enjoys her male characters as they speak to her quite loudly while proving love is love. She is proud to have the honor of being the first M/M author accepted at the now-closed Lush Publishing.

In addition to her writing, she’s expanded her skills to include formatting for Smashwords Premium Catalog, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, & Amazon.

In September 2015, she created Slippery Fingers Press & Publishing Services. She uses the company name for self-publishing as well as her formatting jobs.

Ripping Off the Mask, her first full-length novel, published by Loose Id is now available at most e-book retailers.

To find out more about Harper Jewel, visit her website at www.harperjewel.com.

Author Links

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00C5HW5GS

Blog: http://www.harperjewel.blogspot.com

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/HarperJewelAuthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/harper.jewel

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/harperjewel

QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/harper-jewel/

The Romance Reviews: http://www.theromancereviews.com/harperjewel

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HarperJewel1 or @HarperJewel1

Website: http://www.harperjewel.com/

Giveaway! Leave me a comment with your email, and I'll send you a copy of my holiday story Santa's Naughty Elf! Everyone who comments gets a copy! (But don't forget to include your email...)

 

Holiday Sunday Snog and Giveaway (#freebooks #kiss #Christmas)

It’s Sunday, it’s Christmas, it’s Chanukah, it’s almost Kwanzaa—in short, it’s time to celebrate!

And what better way to enjoy the festive season than with a sexy kiss excerpt from my brand new holiday romance, Gray Christmas?

Of course it would be even better is to get some presents, right? Very well... I’ll give away three copies of the new book, to people who leave a comment on this post. Just tell me what you’re doing to celebrate today.

And when you’re done with my Snog, hop over to Victoria’s page for lots more holiday kisses—as well as more prizes as Blissemas roars to a close!

Powerful fingers grasped my shoulders from behind. Warm breath teased my ear lobe. “No wonder,” Nick murmured, his voice a caress as much as his touch. “No wonder you seem so familiar.” He smoothed his hands down my arms, then circled my waist, pulling me backward against his body. “No wonder I want you so much.” The solid bulk of his erection pressed against my spine made it clear he wasn’t lying. “I’ve so spent many nights with you, Emmanuelle. I know your secret dreams.”

“Nick—no, please… oh!” An involuntary gasp interrupted my objections as he slid his hands up under my loose top to cup my breasts. His palms were soft but his fingertips were calloused, deliciously rough against my nipples. “You—we’re strangers—we can’t just…”

His symmetrical pinch sent lightning racing through me. “Why can’t we? We’re certainly old enough!” He released my breasts long enough to turn me around, so that I faced him. A half-smile played on his lips, while his incredible eyes shone like stars. “You’re as aroused as I am. Why should we refuse this gift?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. In any case, he removed the possibility by fastening his mouth to mine, sweeping me into a deep, wet kiss.

He kissed with the same vibrant energy that animated everything he did. His tongue was demanding and playful by turns. As he teased my lips open, I tasted the fruity wine we’d imbibed, edged with hint of peppermint that must have been toothpaste. The sharp, wild scent of evergreen clung to his skin. His strong arms drew me closer, until my swollen nipples rubbed against his chest. I went weak with the sensations, melting in the heat of his desire, and my own.

Amazed at my own audacity, I returned the kiss, letting my own tongue wander and explore. My entire body tingled. I felt tipsy, an almost forgotten joy bubbling up inside me. His need beat against me like a tropical sun, relentless and inescapable. I had no choice but to surrender to that awesome power.

He broke our mouth-to-mouth connection just long enough to tug my sweater over my head and toss it into a corner. A tiny voice protested against the exposure, out in the open where anyone could see through the second floor window. I ignored the voice, drowning my reservations in the flood of pleasure rippling through me.

Don’t forget to leave a comment! 

(With your email, so I can find you if you win!)