QSFer Hurri Cosmo has a new MM fantasy book out: To Save His Prince.
Emory is a humble kitchen servant intent on working hard so he can continue to earn his daily crust of bread. It is a thankless, back-breaking job, but it is exactly where Emory wants to be. In the magnificent West Quay castle. Because that is where the incredibly handsome, extremely talented Crown Prince Riffyn lives. The beautiful, kind, and attentive man stole Emory’s heart years before when he rescued him and his mother from a band of thieves. Now Emory’s only wish is to be close, so he can simply admire and serve the man.
But a great evil walks the halls of the castle, and Emory stumbles on a heinous plot to not only kill the prince but a possible plan to overthrow the Kingdom. A wicked scheme that includes the use of magic. Of course, being a lowly servant, no one believes Emory when he tries to raise the alarm, including the prince, who has been commanded to choose a bride now, or one will be chosen for him. Even as Emory’s heart breaks for his prince, he has to find a way to save him. But how, when no one, not even the king, the prince’s own father, can be trusted?
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“You were jealous.” Riffyn’s voice was soft, caressing, low enough to send a shiver through Emory’s body.
Yes. He most definitely was jealous. Damn it. Riffyn turned Emory but didn’t allow him to step away. He put both arms on Emory’s shoulders, almost an embrace, and stared into his eyes.
“You rushed to my rescue. Thank you,” he beamed softly.
“You’re… welcome.” Emory whispered.
“You like me.”
“No.” Riffyn grinned as he pulled Emory close enough to feel the hardness of his manhood. “You likeme.”
Emory’s face grew hot. “Yes. Oh yes.”
Riffyn dipped his head and kissed Emory gently on his lips. “Is this all right?” he whispered.
“Most definitely…” Emory reached up and kissed Riffyn’s lips, which hovered over his own. He opened as Riffyn plunged in and took the kiss to a level Emory had never experienced. A hot rush of emotion chased through his entire body, and he was afraid his knees would not be able to hold his weight. But it didn’t matter. Riffyn had a firm hold of him with one arm around his neck and the other around his waist. He couldn’t be closer, yet he wanted desperately to be, his own manhood straining at the seams of his trousers in a bid for attention. The hand around his waist moved down, kneading and exploring, and Emory knew beyond hope he was going to come without a single touch. He had never before had feelings this overwhelming. Either in his heart or with his body. Was this how he was with Duncan?
Emory pulled out of the kiss and pushed out of Riffyn’s arms.
“Emory! What happened?” the prince cried as he tried in vain to recapture Emory.
“No, Your Highness. I… I can’t do this.”
Riffyn dropped his arms to his side, his expression devastated. “You… can’t?”
“No. I’m… sorry.” Emory had once more allowed the thought of the sleazy Duncan to ruin a tender moment.
The prince seemed shocked and at a loss for words. Maybe even confused or – hurt?
Of course, he was. There was no way Riffyn would have even guessed Emory knew about the affair. However, he had warned the prince a few days ago that Duncan was indiscreet. In fact, he wouldn’t have put it past Duncan to have informed the whole kitchen staff. It might be the reason so many of them had been surprised when they observed Emory in the prince’s chambers. The prince sighed. “No. Don’t be. I understand. It’s all for the best. We do have a busy day tomorrow what with the weapons challenge and all. It truly is time for bed.”
“I will fetch your sleep shirt…”
“No need, Emory. I will get it myself. You head into your room. Good night.”
The prince had turned away from him. Emory’s heart was breaking all over yet again. How had one kiss, one amazing kiss, made Emory fall even deeper into the black chasm of desire? “To… tomorrow, then.”
Emory turned and trudged into his tiny room and silently closed the door.
I live in Minnesota where I hold tight to the idea that here, where it’s cold a good part of the year, I won’t age as fast. Yep, I avoid the truth as much as I avoid mirrors. But one of the reasons I love writing is reality doesn’t always offer up a “happily ever after” and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure. Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find.
Oh, I doesn’t mind “real life” and I do try to at least keep it in mind when I write my stories, but I truly love creating a wonderful couple, knowing they will fall in love and have their HEA. Every – single – time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason I love reading this genre, too. Give me a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and my computer, whether I am reading or writing, and I will entertain myself for hours.
The fact I actually get paid to do it, is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.
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