Wednesday, August 16, 2017

MidWeekTease - 16 August 2017 - Time Shift

16 August 2017:

For this week’s edition of the MidWeekTease,, I have an excerpt from Time Shift, a time travel romance:

By Christiane France
Also available at Apple iTunes, Barnes & Noble & Kobo


When Mariette Joubert visits the house where her grandfather was born in Paris, France, she falls through a secret doorway and finds herself back in the year 1763, working as a courtesan in a high class house of pleasure where the infamous Marquis de Sade and his friends are regular visitors. Exclusive rights to Mariette have already been purchased by wealthy merchant, Philippe de Gaspard, but when one of de Sade’s friends decides he want her, Mariette is in big trouble. The Marquis de Vernnay is reputed to be even worse than de Sade. He also has royal connections, so his wishes take precedence over Philippe’s.


...“Ah, so we meet again, my dear mademoiselle,” de Vernnay murmured, stroking Mariette’s knee under cover of the tablecloth as if she were his exclusive property and touching her his God-given right.
“Do you mind?” she hissed through clenched teeth, moving her knee out of his reach. “I am not available,” she added, hoping that was the right thing to say in the circumstances. “My patron…umm…my protector…”
He smiled. A rather oily, knowing smile that gave her the creeps. “You mean your lover, mademoiselle?”
“Whatever.” Mariette took a sip of wine in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. If someone was sitting on her other side, she could strike up a conversation with them and ignore de Vernnay. But, as had happened every day since she’d been here, lunch was not well attended, and the nearest person, a man sitting three seats away, appeared to be either sick or half asleep.
“So, where is he?” de Vernnay inquired, resting a hand on Mariette’s thigh.
“Where’s who?”
“This lover you say you have.”
“He’s away on business. He went to the coast. Calais, I think.”
The pressure of de Vernnay’s hand increased, and Mariette held her breath. “A long journey like that is not without hazard, mademoiselle. Many dangers lie in wait along the way.”
“So I hear.” She tried to ease herself away from his touch. But, instead of retreating the way she hoped, his hand moved to the juncture of her thighs and, to her annoyance, began groping her through her clothes.
Before she could push him away and leave, the groping stopped and his hand was under her dress, making straight for her pussy. He hooked his foot around the leg of her chair to keep her immobile, and his fingers probed her bush, trying to slide their way inside. She kept her knees pressed tightly together, but still the disgusting creature wouldn’t give up. Finally, by sheer force, he managed to push the tip of one finger between her legs and press it against her wetness.
After wiggling the finger against her clit for a few seconds, he removed it, inspected the glistening digit and then proceeded to taste the wetness with his tongue.
“You are quite delicious, my dear. Sweet as honey,” he whispered as he resumed the attack by pushing his hand back under her skirt and pulling hard on her pubic hairs. “Let me in, mademoiselle. If we are to enjoy this, I must insist you open your legs un peu. I want to fuck you with my finger, yes? ”
Mariette kept still as a statue while her mind darted in a dozen different directions. She couldn’t scream and she couldn’t run. And she sure as hell couldn’t stand to have him touching her like this. Just then, the silverware beside her plate caught her attention, reminding her she wasn’t completely helpless.
After grabbing one of the forks, she stabbed the tines hard against the back of his hand.
“Stop what you are doing at once, sir. Or I will make sure this fork goes through your hand in the same way it would go through a tender piece of filet. I doubt you would enjoy that.”
“On the contrary.” He giggled and withdrew his hand a few inches, but she could see the excitement glittering in his dark eyes. “Do you not know that pain can also be pleasure of the most exquisite kind?”
The realization that the freaky bastard had enjoyed what she’d just done and was now urging her to do him even greater hurt, made Mariette feel ill...

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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:

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Wednesday, August 9, 2017

MidWeekTease - 9 August 2017 - The Rivals

9 August 2017:

For this week’s edition of the MidWeekTease,, I have an excerpt from The Rivals, a contemporary m/m gay romance:

The Rivals
By Christiane France


Rod Levins’ future as a newly qualified lawyer is anything but certain. After graduating with an above ninety-five-percent average, he’s in line for a job with the town’s number one law firm.
But so are three others, including the man Rod’s fantasized about for many months.
Jinks Jessop gives the impression he’s just as interested in Rod, but each time Rod makes a move, Jinks backs off. Is Jinks gay, straight, or simply one of his rivals for the job, amusing himself at Rod’s expense?
When it comes to both his career and his personal life, Rod knows that “wanting” and “getting” are not synonymous.
...I was back in my office, reading over some old class notes on estate planning in preparation for my next appointment, when Jinks came in. He closed the door, dropped a file on my desk and came around behind my chair to sit on the window ledge.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I hear you went to lunch with Stew Chetley. How could you do that?”
Jink’s question struck me as blunt to the point of rudeness. I swung my chair around to face him. “What’s the problem? You jealous?”
“Jealous?” His mouth dropped open and he just stared at me for a second. “God, no! You think I’m jealous because you had lunch with that sleazebag? You must be joking. What I meant was, I can’t imagine putting food in my mouth and getting pawed by him all at the same time.” He shuddered. “The mere thought makes me want to throw up. I hope it wasn’t too awful.”
I smiled. “It was fine.”
“Well, we didn’t have a cozy tête-à-tête in some dark, romantic bistro, if that’s what you’re thinking. We had lunch with his accountant to discuss the offer, which, by the way, has now gone belly up.”
“Oh, well, in that case…” He stood as if to leave, but then he hesitated, frowning. “Why on earth would you think I’d be jealous over you having lunch with Chetley?”
“A couple of reasons, I guess.” I gave an offhand shrug, aware I needed to choose my words very carefully. “He’s your dad’s client, you’re neighbors, and you move in the same social circles. I don’t know. I thought there was a chance he might be…how do I put it? Your special friend, perhaps?”
“My what?”
From the look on his face, I wasn’t sure if Jinks was about to pass out or explode. Then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close until our bodies were touching. His eyes were half-closed and dark as night. I could hear him breathing. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. My heart was pounding, too, so hard I didn’t dare move.

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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:

^ ^ ^

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Wednesday, August 2, 2017

MFRWHooks - 2 August 2017 - Inseparable

2 August 2017:

For this week’s edition of MFRWHooks,, I have a few sentences from Inseparable, a contemporary paranormal romance:

By Christiane France
Also available iTunes, Kobo, Barnes & Noble Nook:

“A house this old is bound to have a few restless spirits wandering about to liven things up. Am I right?”
“A g…ghost?”
Most of the men I know like to prove how macho they are by laughing their heads off at the mention of ghosts or anything else that goes bump in the night. But not Nick. He doesn’t look what I’d call scared, but I swear his pale complexion just turned an even lighter shade, and for a tiny instant, I’m a tad concerned he’s going to faint or pull some other trick I’d expect from a woman rather than a man. The moment passes in less than a heartbeat. He pulls himself together, and I reach out and give his arm a friendly squeeze. “You’re not scared of ghosts, are you?”

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Inseparable is a sexy ghost story. When Alison Palmer leaves L.A. and flies to England to escape the financial mess left by her late, philandering husband, she has no money and no job training of any kind. Her future looks pretty grim—until she gets a job house-sitting Foxton Hall and meets the handsome Nick Berringford, and the ghost of his deceased, identical twin brother, Nathan.

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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:
^ ^ ^

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MidWeekTease - 2 August 2017 - Unmasking The Man

2 August 2017:

For this week’s edition of the MidWeekTease,, I have an excerpt from Unmasking The Man, a contemporary m/m gay romance:

Unmasking The Man
By Christiane France
Also available at iTunes, Barnes & Noble Nook, and Kobo

Cain Carpenter has it all—looks, money, a beautiful home, and a successful business. What he doesn’t have is someone to share it with, someone to love and who loves him in return.
In spite of his belief that if he kisses enough frogs he’ll eventually find the prince of his dreams, Cain’s search is proving far from simple. As owner and manager of The Peony, the town’s classiest restaurant, Cain doesn’t have much time for a social life. He’s tried all the usual avenues for meeting people, including a dating agency, and he’s about given up...
Until he accepts an invitation to a singles masquerade party and meets a masked man in an elaborate headdress of black feathers. The stranger invites Cain to dance, and from the instant they touch, Cain is positive he’s finally found that one special person.
Then the man’s cell rings. He answers, mutters something about an emergency and disappears. Cain doesn’t know if he’s left or if he’ll be coming back, and he starts to panic. The rules of the masquerade include no removal of masks and no exchange of names. If you can’t somehow figure out the identity of the person who sparked your interest, you lose. This is one time Cain doesn’t want to lose, but all he has to go on is that “Black Feathers” is a little taller and heavier than himself. Is it enough for him to track down the alluring stranger and discover who is hiding behind the mask?
...One of the guests, who was dressed as a pirate and standing right next to Cain, said, “I take it you’ve never been to one of these singles masquerades before tonight?”
Cain laughed. “I didn’t even know there were such things. I thought with a costume ball you’re supposed to try to figure out who the other people are, but at some point in the evening, everyone’s identity will be revealed. Is the not telling part something new?”
“No, I understand it’s the way these things first started. The whole point of a masquerade is to pose as something or someone you are not and this, in turn, creates the magical feeling of mystery and romance. In my opinion, any telling of names destroys the magic completely.”
“You’d rather be kept guessing?” Cain hazarded.
“Of course. And it’s almost certainly the reason why masquerade parties are gaining in popularity on the singles’ scene. It’s bad enough being footloose and fancy free, but attending those boring get-togethers where you sit around the host’s pool or living room and watch people hook up, then wonder if it’s just for tonight or forever, has definitely passed its sell-by date. These parties are a much better idea.”
“In what way? Say, you’d like to get to know someone better. It would be impossible if you don’t know their name.”
“Ah, but that’s where the mystery and romance comes in. You don’t know them, and they don’t know you, but think of all the fun you’ll have trying to figure out who the person was who caught your attention. Or perhaps it was you who caught theirs. Maybe you talked for a few moments, or even better, you danced together, but whatever happened, it was enough to set sparks flying or work up a little chemistry. You can even be a little outrageous if you wish. After all, who’s to know?”
“Oh right, thanks.” Cain hadn’t thought about the mystery angle; he’d been too concerned about opening his mouth and putting his foot in it. Now he realized it worked both ways. Both parties were at a disadvantage when it came to figuring out who said what to whom.
Just then, the band began to play another set. Cain felt someone touch his arm, and a voice said softly, “Would you care to dance?”
Something about the honey-on-velvet voice, which he thought might be a man’s but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure, caught Cain by surprise. It was rather like being touched without warning in a sensitive spot, and Cain’s body reacted accordingly.
He turned toward the speaker, someone a little taller and at least a few pounds heavier than himself, who wore an enormous headdress composed entirely of long black feathers. A gold half mask surrounded by a fringe of small black and white spotted feathers covered the eyes and forehead, while the lower half of the face was painted chalk white. A black velvet jacket and knee britches, white stockings and black, buckled shoes completed the outfit. The area between the chin and the collar of the jacket was swathed in purple chiffon patterned in silver.
“Well?” The voice pressed a little louder, confirming the speaker was a man.
At that precise moment, everything the other man had said about the mystery and romance of masquerade took over Cain’s imagination. “Yes, of course. Absolutely. I’d love to,” he replied before the stranger got the idea he wasn’t interested and moved on. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” he continued as the man took his hand and led him onto the floor, “but your headdress is quite amazing. How on earth do you manage to keep it in place?”
“It weighs less than a pound,” his partner replied, “so it’s really no problem. I barely remember I have it on.”
As they began to dance, he brought Cain just close enough so their bodies were touching from knee to chin in a hold that was light yet struck Cain as possessive. It was clear the man was a good dancer, and while there was nothing suggestive about his movements or the way he held Cain, there was something about him that made Cain’s pulse race and sent his imagination into overdrive.
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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:

^ ^ ^

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Wednesday, July 26, 2017

MidWeekTease - 26 July 2017 - The Man In The Attic

26 July 2017:

For this week’s edition of the MidWeekTease,, I have an excerpt from The Man In The Attic, a contemporary paranormal m/m gay romance:

The Man In The Attic
By Christiane France
Also available at iTunes, Barnes & Noble Nook, and Kobo
When Matt Jones takes a temporary job as a housekeeper/housesitter in an old three-story Queen Anne Victorian house, he’s worried about patching up a misunderstanding with his new boyfriend. He has no idea he’ll be sharing the premises with a ghost and that within the month his life will drastically change.
Never in Matt’s wildest dreams would he have imagined living with a ghost could be so exciting and rewarding.

... “In other words, you want me to take you back so you can figure something out?” I couldn’t believe I was buying into this ridiculous nonsense. But hey, it was better than watching mindless TV or twiddling my thumbs.
“I’d be most grateful if you would.”
“No problem. What do I have to do? Park my car out front, then you’ll hop in and give me directions to the house?”
“I’m afraid it won’t be quite that easy. The first step will be to get me and the trunk out of this house. It’s a fairly big trunk and you may need help to carry it. Then you’ll have to find a way of putting it back inside Henry’s house.”
I stared at Toby hard. This had to be a joke. It was too crazy to be anything else. But then his image wavered again and I gave in. Whoever he was, the sooner I got him and that damn trunk out of here the better for all concerned.
I swallowed a king-sized sigh. “You’re right. It sounds anything but easy. There’s bound to be someone else living in the house by now, so I can’t knock on the door and pretend it’s a delivery. And I won’t do anything stupid like breaking in. You have any better suggestions?”
He gave me another of his super sad looks. “Sorry, I don’t.”
“What if I take you over there late one night and leave you on the doorstep?”
“That may not work. I think the new owner will have to take the trunk inside.”
“You know this for sure or you’re just guessing?”
“In ghost stories the spirit must forever remain the house where he breathed his last breath.”
“Right. But this is real life not a book. Who’s going to take in a package they know nothing about?” I wondered aloud. “If they have any sense they’ll call the bomb squad and run like hell. Any other brilliant ideas?”
“The garage is attached to the house and there’s a conservatory at the back. In both cases, the doors into the main part of the house will be locked, but if either of the outer ones are open that would work.”
“I may have a better idea.”
“And that is?”
“I have a friend on the police force. Give me the address and a couple of days to scope the place out and talk to my friend. Where’s the trunk?”
“The address is 24 Alder Close, and it’s that old trunk in the first room you checked. Plain varnished wood banded with strips of dark red. Maybe you noticed it?”
“I saw there were several trunks when I looked in there, but I didn’t notice any one in particular. Let me take a look at the house first. I’ll worry about the rest later.”
I headed back in the direction of the stairs and Toby followed along behind.
Just before we reached them, he said, “By the way, I forgot to thank you for last night. It was a total blast. We must do it again sometime soon.”
I turned to face him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve already forgotten?” He grinned. “Never mind. Perhaps it wasn’t that good after all. I must try to do better next time.”
I had no idea what Toby was talking about. I stared at him for a second, waiting for him to explain. When I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I muttered a quick see ya later and went out through the steel door, which I then closed and locked, just in case. In case of what I wasn’t quite sure. If he was a ghost a locked door wouldn’t keep him in. And if he wasn’t?
I had no answer for that, but halfway down the stairs I remembered my dream. My knees buckled and I grabbed onto the stair rail to stop from falling the rest of the way. The dream had been fantastic, as good if not better than the real thing, but still a dream. No way did Toby have anything to do with it.
Or did he?
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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:

^ ^ ^

Cool mysteries and hot romance -

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

MidWeekTease- 19 July 2017 - The Club At Cool Harbor

19 July 2017:

For this week’s edition of the MidWeekTease,, I have an excerpt from The Club At Cool Harbor, a contemporary m/m gay romance:

The Club At Cool Harbor
By Christiane France


A year ago, all private investigator Gabe Muller needed to complete his perfect life was the perfect man. Then he met fellow P.I., Raz Reynolds, the man of his dreams. The attraction was mutual, and they made a date for dinner at Raz’s house. When Gabe arrived, he found Raz on the patio having sex with another man. Although literally caught with his pants down, Raz tried to explain that things weren’t at all the way they looked, but Gabe wasn’t buying it. Hurt and disillusioned, he cut off all contact with Raz.

Recently the security firm for which Gabe works was hired by the owner of Le Club, the new all gay males’ resort at Cool Harbor, to stop the leak of highly sensitive, personal information about members’ leisure-time activities. Posing as a waiter, Gabe arrives to investigate and immediately runs into Raz who is also there undercover. Although Gabe is working for the owner and Raz for one of the club members, their goal is the same. For this reason, Gabe suggests they temporarily put personal differences aside and share information.

For Raz, it’s the perfect opportunity to try to convince Gabe what he thought he saw a year earlier wasn’t at all what it seemed. When Gabe learns the truth, will he believe Raz, forgive him, and give the man another chance? 

...Raz grinned. “It just occurred to me that if the doms at Le Club are masked, they know who they’re flogging or subduing or whatever, but the one on the receiving end may not.”

Gabe frowned. “I thought that kind of thing was an established partnership, not just a one-off. You know, one or more slaves and their regular slave master, in which case, everyone knows everyone else. Of course, I could be wrong.”

“Maybe it’s different at Le Club,” Raz suggested. “You know, like a spa. They come for a few days of R&R and they get to try out all the different disciplines and toys.”

“As in someone hides his identity behind a mask and practices being a dom, then gets in touch with his media buddies and says, ‘Hey, guys, you won’t believe what X likes having done to him, which is great because I really needed to fix that sucker good, and he doesn’t have a clue who I am.’ Somehow, I don’t think that’s too likely.”

“Why not?” Raz looked slightly offended. “You have a problem with that theory? I’m not saying some of them don’t go to the club to find new playmates, indulge in a couple of fantasies, or learn new things because I think that was the original idea behind Le Club—somewhere way off the beaten track where they can be themselves without constantly looking over their shoulders. However, that being said, these are sane, well-educated men we’re talking about here; guys who obviously know their way around the gay scene.

“I just don’t see any of them engaging in what we both know are potentially dangerous, maybe even lethal sex games with complete strangers. At least, not the kind of heavy stuff I was told has been hinted at.” Gabe laughed and ran his hand very slowly down Raz’s flat stomach, stopping a scant inch or two short of his cock. “Sorry, babe. I think you’re really reaching.”

“In that case, why don’t you do the same? Reach a tiny bit lower and put me out of my misery. Please!” Raz’s dark eyes danced with what Gabe suspected were deliciously wicked thoughts, then they slid shut as Raz ran the tip of his tongue around his mouth. “Imagine you’re my slave and you have to obey my every command.”

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Don’t forget this is a blog hop. You can check out all the other contributors’ blogs by following this link:

^ ^ ^

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Friday, July 14, 2017

What do romance readers really want?

I know, romance reading preferences come and go the same as with everything else. At one time, I couldn't get enough steamy stories set in the Deep South.  Later, I went through a historical readfest, then a paranormal phase, before moving on to vampires and shapeshifters, and right now I mostly buy contemporaries, preferably with a hint of mystery or suspense.

As an author, I mostly write m/m gay contemporary or paranormal and I do like to add a little mystery and/or suspense. But is there an audience for what I write?

Authors want to give readers what they want , so if you read romance, please help by completing the following survey:

Thanks for your help,

Christiane France

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