Will doesn’t mind, when his company HR officer, Elizabeth, ropes him into charity events. Well, to be quite accurate, he minds, but he knows better than to protest. But a bachelor auction? In a toga? With his PA Jon at the event? (The PA he has a little crush on. A very little one. Shut up.) Oh well, it’s not as if Jon’s going to put in a bid for a date with Will. Is he? Is he?
As if Penn didn’t have enough to deal with: being a slave to wolves, being a lover to his master, Ree, being suborned into a polyamorous illicit morganatic marriage with Ree and his lesbian wolf-girl bride, Lettice. But now, now he’s kidnapped: by abolitionists, liberationists. Dangerous, free-thinking, liberal wolves, who think they know what’s best, for human slaves.
Which is all very well: but still, it’s not what he chose, and no-one’s listening to what Penn wants. Maybe it’s time for drastic action…
Penn is cautious, a human slave in a world owned by werewolves. And he has good reason to be. Still more reason, when he finds himself lured into a menage à trois with his werewolf lover, Ree, and Ree’s prospective wolf-girl bride, Lettice Parrin…
Well, Penn is a slave – still. But now he’s a pampered pet, now he’s the master’s darling. You’d think he’d be satisfied with that, that he’d be content. But is he? Well, perhaps he might be – if it wasn’t for Lettice and Benedict Parrin, the dangerously liberal abolitionist wolves in his master and lover Ree’s circle. If it wasn’t that Ree’s mother, the old Dam of the Hotstaat pack, is trying to get Ree married off to a suitable wolf-girl. If it wasn’t for Penn’s nature, if he didn’t hate being a slave, if he didn’t long to be free… Is love enough to reconcile Penn to being a slave? Is he willing to risk capture and death, for the sake of freedom?Set in an alternative universe’s 1920s, with wolves.
#gaywolves #gaypaperback #gayromance #gayromancebooks
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Reuben MacLeod is a teacher, a librarian, a former college professor. Tip Lanier is a hunter: of all kinds of supernatural creatures.;
They have nothing in common.
But once upon a time they were all in all to each other.
And now an injured Tip is on the Professor’s doorstep, looking for help…
What does a bum-orange poop? Gotta be a #kumquat, right?
Use up your #wonkyveg, peoples. I recommend soup, fruit salad, juice ’em, a little strange-looking is still good.
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The poem is the way back machine
is the head-to-toe skin-tall Tardis removing you from this speck of existence to another
you wrote it because:
you were drunk
(applicable only to Persona A)
you are a peacock
it was funny and bad ideas are still ideas
and all ideas must be implemented in all possible worlds
this world is the only world possible for you
because it scoured and bleached the memory
and Jon Richardson would approve
(spottily applicable where you care to apply it)
not even because you slept through
and nothing else was going to get done that day
of the diminution of results
from strenuous efforts
Where’s the marching band, where’s the baby grand
congrats card stuffed in my hand
I thought there’d be a fuckin’ sea of gin
climb up to the top board and dive right in