Anniversary Shenanigans: Author Visit & Giveaway - Avon Gale

Up and coming author Avon Gale is here today! She's even written a fic to show off her considerable skills particularly in the witty repartee department in case you've not experienced her before, boy are you in for a treat!

Suit Yourself 

by

Avon Gale

“Nice suit,” the man said when I entered the room, his chin tilted in defiance.

Seriously? This guy was naked and hanging from ropes in the ceiling, and he was being a smartass? Clearly it explained how he’d ended up in this situation. “Nice ropes,” I replied.

The guy attempted a shrug, which didn’t look easy to do in his position. “I’ve had better,” he said, twisting a little. I don’t know if he was showing off or just uncomfortable. “Little rough. Kinda chafing.”

“Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll get you some moisturizer,” I offered, stepping closer.

The man bared his teeth at me in a sneer. “I tell you anything, and you’ll give me a bullet. Don’t lie. I know how this works, Suit. I’ve seen movies.”

“Nothing says you have to go to your grave with chaffed wrists.” I took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, muscled and strung up like Christmas lights, his hair remarkably well-coiffed considering the mess he was in. “Now, I’m trying to help you, Mr…”

“Like I’m gonna tell you my name, if you don’t already know it.”

I reached out and patted him on the side of the face, his stubble a pleasant rasp against my skin. “We can dispense with the small talk -- and what comes after it -- if you just tell me what I want to know.”

“Which is, what, exactly?” The defiance was back, but he was clearly wary as I reached out to touch him -- showing him clearly who had the power here, and how it most assuredly wasn’t him. He was naked and vulnerable, and I was not.

I traced my fingers down his chest. The room was cold and his skin was startlingly warm against my bare fingers. “We have reason to believe you know the whereabouts of someone my organization would very much like to find. If you help us locate him, we don’t need to do anything more down here than talk.” I gestured toward the table behind me, on which lay a riding crop, a thin bamboo cane, and a few other implements I wouldn’t hesitate to make use of.

“What makes you think I know anyone involved in whatever shady shit you’ve got going on here, huh?” The man’s eyes flickered toward the table, and he shifted again in the ropes. The pull of his muscles beneath his skin was intoxicating. It wouldn’t be a hardship to watch him writhe in pain as I struck him with the crop, as I reddened that skin and heard him cry out. Not at all.

I smacked him lightly in the side of the face and made a tsking sound as I retrieved the crop with careful deliberation. “I think you will want to remember who has all the power in this situation, and it’s not you.” I set the edge of the crop on his collar, tracing lightly down his neck and lower, slowly, making it a tease. A few times I tapped it against his skin, not hard, but enough to get his attention. “I have a lot of persuasive methods at my disposal, and I --”

“William? Are you down there? I’m sorry to just let myself in like this, but I promised Rosemary I’d pick up those documents for her, and I saw your car in the driveway but you didn’t answer your phone.”

A pause, as both myself and my prisoner realized we’d been interrupted.

“So much for our middle-of-day hot interrogation scene,” Josh muttered, sounding utterly put out. He scowled. “Did you really have to give your assistant a key to our house?”

I ignored Josh and went to the foot of the basement stairs, tapping the crop against my thigh in annoyance. “They’re in the office on the desk,” I called to Anthony. “I’m just taking care of a few...household projects...over my lunch hour.”

There was a pause, and then my clueless assistant said, “In the...basement?”

“Seriously, Will,” Josh grumbled, looking longingly at the crop. “Maybe just let him come down here and see what we’re doing. That’ll keep him from using that key ever again.”

Josh wasn’t wrong about that. Anthony was twenty-three and stopped singing along to songs when a curse word showed up in the lyrics. Seeing my boyfriend tied up in our basement while we played interrogator-and-prisoner kinky sex games might shock him into a coma, and he was a good assistant. I’d had to fire the last three and wasn’t in the mood to look for another one.

“Just take the documents,” I replied, an edge in my voice. At least Josh would appreciate it, if not Anthony. Anthony got flustered when I spoke in that voice. Josh got hard.

“Tell him you’re going to be late,” Josh added in an undertone. “It’s going to be at least forty-five minutes until you break me. Maybe more.” His cock was starting to rise to attention. I reached out and traced it with the crop, smiling as he bit his lip to hold back a soft moan.

“Anthony, reschedule my two-thirty. I’m going to be a little late coming back from lunch.”

Once Anthony was gone, I turned back to Josh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should probably not have given him the key.”

“Or brought work home,” Josh added.

“Or brought work home,” I agreed. I stepped forward, reaching up to check the ropes attached to his wrists. “Are these really that uncomfortable? Because I can get the other ones that aren’t as rough. You said you wanted authentic, though, so--”

“Will,” Josh said, laughter in his voice. “Shut up and make me talk.”


This! This is why I've come to adore this author in such a short time. 

Be sure to leave a comment to welcome Avon to the M/M neighborhood and let her know what you thought of her fic!

Author Bio:

Avon Gale wrote her first story at the age of seven, about a “Space Hat” hanging on a rack and waiting for that special person to come along and purchase it — even if it was a bit weirder than the other, more normal hats. Like all of Avon’s characters, the space hat did get its happily ever after — though she’s pretty sure it was with a unicorn. She likes to think her vocabulary has improved since then, but the theme of quirky people waiting for their perfect match is still one of her favorites.

Avon grew up in the southern United States, and now lives with her very patient husband in a liberal midwestern college town. By day, Avon is a hair stylist who loves her job, her clients, and the opportunity to spend her time being creative and making people happy and look fabulous.

When she’s not writing, she’s either doing some kind of craft project that makes a huge mess, reading, watching horror movies, listening to music or yelling at her favorite hockey team to get it together, already. Avon is always up for a road trip, adores Kentucky bourbon, thinks nothing is as stress relieving as a good rock concert and will never say no to candy.

At one point, Avon was the mayor of both Jazzercise and Lollicup on Foursquare. This tells you basically all you need to know about her as a person.

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Enter to win an ebook of Avon's latest, Breakaway, which will be reviewed here in a couple of hours. 2 winners will be chosen!

Drafted to play for the Jacksonville Sea Storm, an NHL affiliate, twenty-year-old Lane Courtnall’s future looks bright, apart from the awkwardness he feels as a gay man playing on a minor league hockey team. He's put his foot in his mouth a few times and alienated his teammates. Then, during a rivalry game, Lane throws off his gloves against Jared Shore, enforcer for the Savannah Renegades. It’s a strange way to begin a relationship.

Jared’s been playing minor league hockey for most of his career. He’s bisexual and doesn’t care if anyone knows. But he’s determined to avoid another love affair after the last one left him devastated. Out of nowhere a one-nighter with rookie Lane Courtnall gives him second thoughts. Lane reminds Jared why he loves the game and why love might be worth the risk. In turn, Jared hopes to show Lane how to be comfortable with himself on and off the ice. But they’re at different points in their careers, and both men will have to decide what they value most.

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