Excerpt 3: An Elf for All Centuries

But what about the sex? Is there sex in An Elf for All Centuries ? Oh yes kittens, there is lots of sex. Here's a sample.

BLURB:

Elf Prince Fabion enjoys the perfect supermodel lifestyle until wizard Matradorian chucks him back in time to save Henda, the sexy, powerful elf king. Since the death of his lover, Henda has lingered in a half-alive, half-dead state. Surprisingly, Fabion is a spiritual match for Henda's dead lover, so only he can save the dying king. 

Fabion uses his sexy bod and sweet lovin' to revive the elf king. All seems well until he realizes that by saving Henda, his own timeline was destroyed and he must stay in this ancient land forever. Fabion pitches the biggest temper tantrum of any century.

Soon a new threat emerges which puts his life in fresh danger. Now who wants to kill him?

EXCERPT:

Henda body slammed Fabion into the sitting room table. Unnngh… wow, the hard, wooden table sure abused the spine. The frenzied Fabion was too busy holding on and gasping in wet, hot pleasure to protest. Fuck. Amazing. Did his powerful Henda have a cock or a telephone pole swinging between his thighs? Whatever this potent male swirled around in Fabion's ass sure made Fabion experience twinkling stars, shimmering comets, and strange, lime-green light flashes. He imagined himself as a cup of coffee violently stirred by one long, hard spoon. Ouch, did those green flashes mean brain damage? His head had bounced off the sitting room wall pretty damned hard.

Crap-a doodle-doo-ooo-oo-ouch!

"Henda, what the hell are you—ooo—"

The powerful elf yanked him off the table and maneuvered them toward the bedroom. Fabion wrapped around Henda, laughed, and enjoyed the sexy ride down the hall. Yee-hah! As he walked, Henda continued jamming the pile driver into Fabion. Amazing. Yeee-haaa redux. The big dude hid hydraulics in his wicked cock!

Henda's wanton actions stunned Fabion. Imagine, he had coaxed the stately big dude into acting like a rampaging sexual demon.

Pained ecstasy made Fabion whoop in amazement.

His smiling big dude gasped out a teasing question. "Am I too much for my youthful one?"

When he controlled his own gasping, Fabion nipped at Henda's smiling lips. "Keep bringing it on, you wild thing! This is where I need you to be my perpetual motion machine. You can do me until I pass out. This is… you are… ooo, yeah, baby, please—"

Fabion squirmed in fresh joy. He bounced his ass up and down. He hoped his big dude managed not to drop him even as he tried forcing Henda to come before they reached the bed.

Loud gasps threatened their progress. "My love, I hate to admit the fact, but throwing you across the various surfaces exhausts even my royal stamina. Do you mind if we end our epic round of sex in our bed? I love ending in a traditional manner."

"Traditional? You're funny, Big Dude." Fabion rolled his inner ass muscles.

"You are a lovely tease." Henda carefully positioned them to drop in swift grace.

Fabion's torso sunk into the bed. His pillow cradled his head. He stared up at Henda in amazement. "Big Dude, wow, what skillful aim. Thanks for not dropping me on the floor."

"You act so dazed with sexual glory, I wonder if you would even notice."

"You gotta point and wow, one fabulous point deep where it counts!"

Crooning in merry lust, Fabion arched his neck back and rolled his head against the feather pillow. He kept his long legs wrapped around Henda's perfect waist. Wow-wowie. Yooowww, whatever happened deep inside him defined killer. "Hey, Big Dude, do that trick again."

Henda chuckled softly and maneuvered his hips slightly to the left. "Is this what my darling one needs?"

"Woo, absolutely, Big Dude. Lover, are you sick of me—ooo, yeah—telling you how sublimely boffo you are?"

Another chuckle escaped Henda's panting throat. "Boffo? Trust me, Fabion, you are the first one to call me boffo. I gather boffo is a pleasant thing to be?"

Fabion managed to laugh through his impending blast off. "Absolutely, Big Dude. Boffo ranks right up there with killer."

Henda arched his back toward the ceiling. Yeow, perfect, the big dude slowly drove his cock back into Fabion in hard, incremental thrusts. His lover understood when to slow down the show. Excellent.

"You are killer boffo."

Henda smiled over Fabion's ecstatic face. "My dear beauty, you and I are going to sit down with a few bottles of, as you call it, tree sap vino and detail your strange utterances. How is killer a good thing?"

"Trust me, you studly elf, it is a compliment, like me saying 'I dig how you do the nasty'. Crap, holy cats, lover, how do you make your amazing dick twist radically hard? Your new treat is wickedly hot."

"My Fabion, tell me what pleases you, and I shall perform the act until you cannot stand the pleasure. I hate to sound boastful, but I can satisfy a lover for hours. Actually, since we act lively here, I fear I will not hold out as long as usual. I confess I am at physical limit."

Whew, cool to realize Henda also suffered from exhaustion. Fabion felt less wimpy.

Excerpt 2: An Elf for All Centuries

In celebration of An Elf for All Centuries being nominated at Love Romance Cafe for Best Fantasy/Paranormal AND Best LGBT Book of 2012, I'm posting excerpts. This is a book a reader should peek at before taking the plunge. It's not for the faint of heart or for those lacking a sense of humor.

Fabion drove me crazy writing him but I love him. Readers who relate to the Bill and Ted vibe Fabion gives off adore him.

This excerpt deals with Fabion's epic overreaction to finding a wizard in his condo.

BLURB:

Elven super model Prince Fabion's day is perfect until wizard Matradorian kidnaps him from his penthouse. Surprise, Fabion is a spiritual match for elf king Henda’s dead lover. Only he can save the dying Henda. The problem is Fabion lives in the thirty-ninth century. Henda lives in the nineteenth.

When he lands in the nineteenth century, Fabion controls himself from punching Matradorian, saves Henda and falls in instant lust with his romantic fantasy. After all, this is a romantic comedy.

When Fabion realizes his polluted, on the verge of ruin thirty-ninth century is gone, the super model pitches the temper tantrum of any century until he realizes sexy Henda accepts him as his true lover. Being the virile, handsome Henda's lover fills Fabion's emotional gap. Despite the lack of facials and hot water, the former super model adapts to living in the backwards century.

Soon Fabion learns the nineteenth century is more dangerous than his vanished thirty-ninth century. Who wants to kill him now? And why?

EXCERPT:

The supermodel reached the Sequoia's warded doors. Tough-looking guards nodded his way. The fawning security chief opened the doors inserted into the tree's giant base.

Before he entered, Fabion stopped and glanced to the right. Wait, who lurked over there? How had he slipped past security?

An ancient oldster, clad in a peacock feather-coated top hat and a tattered, blue robe, slumped against the Sequoia's rough, far edge. Upon spying Fabion, he stood straight. His excited stare speared into Fabion's flesh. Fabion sensed the invasion pass through his clothing and examine him down to the bone. How did the old wart create the strange violation?

Fuck, the insane wizard everyone was talking about now stalked him.

He owned no time for magical nonsense. Fabion pointed in command. "Guards, secure that suspicious, old cretin!"

The five aggressive guards followed Fabion's gesture. Huh? No way! The scruffy dude had vanished!

A tall, blond hulk respectfully glanced toward Fabion. "Prince Fabion? Sorry, there's no one there."

Right, like duh, butthead. Did the blond lunkhead suppress a snicker? Asshole. "Wow, my eyes must play tricks on me."

Like hell! Fabion possessed sharp elven vision. The old bastard had stood right over there. The weirdo had even managed to make eye contact with Fabion. Super-duper creepy.

Fabion stared in further suspicion. Nothing. He sighed and entered the tree's unnaturally enhanced pine-scented interior. No matter, the sweet air instantly calmed him down. At least the designers had left the rough wooden interior alone. How rare.

Another forlorn jab hit Fabion's mind. What was wrong with him today? He needed to feel fabulous, not introspective. Fabion turned to the tall, human security head and amped up his smile wattage.

"Kyle, make sure no old wizards sneak in here. One lurked out front and I swear the skanky asshole shot me the evil eye. Too weird, right?" Fabion shook his head. "When Hestran arrives, send him right up. No need to buzz me."

The handsome human winked in acknowledgement. "Will do, Prince Fabion. How did your meeting go?"

There, someone cared about him. Fabion preened in giddy delight. "Mmm, Kyle, consider my rent paid for eternity. Worry not, the fabulous bonuses for the many kicky extras you supply me still flow your way."

Winking coyly, Fabion trailed his long fingers down Kyle's cheek. He loved slumming with the muscular human. The security administrator's bloodline traced back to an ancient, trusted royal human family sworn to support the elves. Too bad the Walmon goons had declared human dynasties illegal. Arrogant power-hogs.

"The news makes my day, Prince Fabion." Kyle ducked away from the security camera and wetly kissed Fabion's soft palm.

Fabion smacked Kyle's firm cheek. "Stop it, you naughty boy. Hey, you're off tomorrow and I'm not busy." Fabion playfully winked again and licked his lips.

He adored how Kyle almost drooled in aching delight. "What time should I arrive, my prince?"

"Come up around four. Bring take-out from that clever dwarf fusion café. Their barbecued electric eel and fried kiwi combo platter is faboo. We can enjoy a picnic out on my balcony, well, if the pollution isn't deadly. No matter what, at least we'll enjoy each other."

"I can't wait, fair one!" Kyle bowed in respect.

"Keep hot for me, sweetie."

His secret human squeeze deserved one last radiant smile. Fabion strolled to his private elevator and punched in his access code. He smiled at himself in the gleaming mirrors. What a delightful view. Nothing in squalid Pinar matched the pristine sight. He always wore light colors to offset his emerald eyes and waist-length, coppery tresses. This tailored suit displayed his masculine assets in a subtle yet impressive fashion. No wonder everyone adored him.

Fine, fuck, almost everyone. Stop!

The doors opened into the snug security foyer. Cameras monitored his movements. Another access code opened stern steel doors. Fabion stepped up to his custom, hand-carved double doors depicting him as a benevolent savior. As he murmured soft runes, Fabion's fingers touched key spots in the beautiful display. They were located at his nipples, cock, and lips. Yum. Elven magic supplied more security than keys and locks, although when drunk, Fabion owned a dragon of a time entering his own penthouse. Slurring during a strict, elven rune chant messed up the works. He hated calling his building rune master, but the problem occurred more often than Fabion cared to admit. Rune Master Sarde had made a fortune off befuddled Fabion's house calls.

The thick doors swung in. His mobile phone sang Hestran's tune. Now what? Hestran probably needed advice on a purchase. His fingers plucked out his phone from his vest. Fabion entered his penthouse. His finger aimed for the answer button.

Instead of answering his phone, Fabion shrieked in total alarm. The phone fell to the expensive carpet.

Fabion turned to escape. The heavy doors mysteriously slammed shut. What the fuck? He launched his body at the doors. His hands grasped the silver boar's head doorknobs and yanked backward. No effect. Cursing intensely, he slammed his handcrafted leather heels against the doors and pulled back in enraged elven might. Nothing happened. Come on, his superior physical effort should have ripped the knobs free from the wood.

Fabion muttered his security runes again. He touched the proper places on this side.

Nothing. Nada. Null. Impossible!

Fabion did not need this radical nonsense. Time to kick wizard ass in a lethal manner. He seldom released his elven strength but when he did, if he was sober, he understood how to inflict nasty damage. Abnormal strength and pristine looks were Fabion's only special elven assets. He hated violence but hated violation even more.

His feet slammed back to the carpet. Fabion whirled, raised his taut fists toward the old geek standing before him and bellowed in fury. "Listen, you filthy old bastard, get the fuck out of my penthouse right now! I don't understand how you slithered in here, but you need to slither out! I have more crucial things to do than endure your shit!"

The grubby dude performed an elaborate, arcane gesture. His staff bobbed. Fabion froze. What? Gaag! He couldn't move, speak, or even blink! As Fabion helplessly watched, the winkled old dude performed a triumphant little dance. His feathery top hat bobbed atop his long, white hair. No points for grace.

"That I am able to smite thee tells me that ye are truly the one!"

Huh? Smite thee? Geesh. Struggling mightily, Fabion almost broke free from his freeze. To his annoyance, the old one flicked his fingers again.

The wrinkly dude stopped dancing and cleared his throat. His epic frown reminded Fabion of a frustrated prune. "Right. Sorry, I need to sink back into your odious speech patterns. Dude, I have conquered thee—wait, let me make this clear for you." He hesitated one more time. "Bud, I can freeze your pretty royal ass, which means you are the true Prince Fabion. Do my words compute? Do you savvy my sizzlin' stunt?"

Who had slipped him the hallucinogens? The frozen Fabion stared in pure amazement. His fractured temper soared into the polluted sky. This old asshole deserved an extra large helping of elven ass kicking with a side of manic stomping. He deserved to be tossed off the balcony into the Dumpster.

"Right, you can't talk." The old git twirled his right hand in an intricate pattern. "Pal, now you can talk. Let me warn you, if you raise your voice again, a choking spell will knock you out. Are we clear on the new house rules? I will let you talk, but no caterwauling. High-pitched elven hysteria hurts my poor, old ears." He waved his tall, gnarled staff toward the astonished Fabion.

Fabion snarled in prime annoyance. "What are you babbling about? My prize-winning voice is not high-pitched. I record my own commercials and win awards!"

Instead of looking impressed, old prune puss shook his head. "Fabion, if I release you, do you swear upon your elven soul, or what passes for an elven soul in this wretched century, not to jump me?"

Fabion rolled his eyes. "Yuck, do you think that I want to grope your grubby dick? Dude, so not true! I'd rather kick your wrinkled ass. Besides, what are you gonna do to me? Keep me frozen and pork my tight ass?"

A vastly insulted look crossed the old man's features. "Listen, mouthy, I don't like your attitude. I'd best keep you restrained. Fabion, although you are a sweet hottie, I am not here to jump your bones. Please listen to me. I have wandered across this filthy, crowded city looking for the chosen one. I need to find the royal elf who is a bitchin' soul match for Fabion Leonia, son of Tonasdian, who died in the year 1803. Tag, pal, you're him."

Super-duper great. Fabion rolled his eyes again. "Asshole, you are in the wrong place. I am lovely Fabion, supermodel, he who anticipates dinner then hot, sweet sex with Hestran."

The old fart's eyes widened in stunned surprise. "Hestran of Atlantica?"

Fabion snorted in vast amusement. "He certainly believes he is, but who cares? Atlantica is a high-tech vacation empire controlled by greedy Walmontech. No big deal there."

Stricken silence invaded the room. A furious Fabion wanted to tap his foot but only his perfect head obeyed his will. "Yo, old fart, did you hear me or is your waxy ear hair too dense?"

A vastly pained expression twisted the old geek's wrinkles into canyons. "Yes, you rude, young ass, I heard you. This crappy century is too abysmal. No wonder the fates urged me to find you. If this is how Pinar turns out, everything we worked for was a total waste of time."

"Well, excuse me! This is how Pinar has been for ages. It's no bowl of fresh kumquats anymore. The honor and glory flushed down the smelly toilet a few centuries ago. Why do you complain about reality? Do you live in a cave? Pinar is a violent, stinking place controlled by wicked Walmontech. Grand thing I'm a royal elf, 'cause if I were a mere groveling human, I'd shoot myself. They're lucky they can even breathe the yellow air cheese."

Fabion blinked in annoyance. Come on, why did he try explaining real life to a crazy man? Admit it, this old dude owned mondo forbidden powers, which made him a dangerous, crazy man. The nasty concept kicked Fabion's anger into stun mode.

"Ass-wipe, are you licensed to spell-freeze elves? In case you didn't hear the news, we are a protected species. You break the law. You need to release me and scram." Fabion tried to cross his arms in threat. Nothing happened. He snarled in frustration. "If I break free, you will be super sorry!"

Excerpt 1: An Elf for All Centuries

In celebration of An Elf for All Centuries being nominated at Love Romance Cafe for Best Fantasy/Paranormal AND Best LGBT Book of 2012, I'm posting excerpts. This is a book a reader should peek at before taking the plunge. It's not for the faint of heart or for those lacking a sense of humor.

BLURB:

Elven super model Prince Fabion's day is perfect until wizard Matradorian kidnaps him from his penthouse. Surprise, Fabion is a spiritual match for elf king Henda’s dead lover. Only he can save the dying Henda. The problem is Fabion lives in the thirty-ninth century. Henda lives in the nineteenth.

When he lands in the nineteenth century, Fabion controls himself from punching Matradorian, saves Henda and falls in instant lust with his romantic fantasy. After all, this is a romantic comedy.

When Fabion realizes his polluted, on the verge of ruin thirty-ninth century is gone, the super model pitches the temper tantrum of any century until he realizes sexy Henda accepts him as his true lover. Being the virile, handsome Henda's lover fills Fabion's emotional gap. Despite the lack of facials and hot water, the former super model adapts to living in the backwards century.

Soon Fabion learns the nineteenth century is more dangerous than his vanished thirty-ninth century. Who wants to kill him now? And why?

EXCERPT:

The limo halted next to a faded grass expanse. A century ago, the grass lawn may have looked green, but these days not enough sunlight helped its feeble struggle. Now the grass had given up trying for the green. Even the spiky weeds littering the plot drooped in despair. Across the ragged approach, a tattered tree line listlessly soared into the yellowish mist obscuring the sun's rays. A shabby sign topping the copper gate announced, "Welcome to Park Haven."

The driver glanced back at the three passengers. "Are you sure you want to stop here, Prince Fabion? This lonely spot always worries me. I hate leaving you here."

Fabion waved his right hand in agreement. "Yep, Matt, we need the exercise."

Hestran whined in annoyance before Fabion could even count to one. The quick reaction set a new fine whine record. "Ooooo come on, Fabion, sweeeetie. Damn, you want to walk through horrid, old Park Haven to reach the Sequoia? Are you insane? That's toooo faaaaar."

His sulky boyfriend's high-pitched complaint made Fabion want to jam his fingers in his ears. Naw, the act seemed too rude even for Fabion's selfish sensibilities. Instead he managed to smile at his bratty Hestran. "Come on, look at the weather! This afternoon the air quality is almost pretty. I can nearly see blue, well, all right, no, but I can imagine the color ruling the sky like in times past. Today I want to enjoy a walk through the park."

Fabion hadn't strolled through Park Haven in over a month. How sad. He needed to commune with the remaining nature on a more regular basis.

Lanaro leaned around the pouting Hestran and scowled in displeasure. "Fuck, you always need to act different, dude. Everyone knows that no well-bred elf walks into Park Haven from the east gate. This is the common, human gate."

Fabion saw Matt's professional face slip for a second. Why did Lanaro always act like such a prick? It was one thing to dislike humans, but insulting them to their face defined rudeness.

Lanaro deserved a tongue lashing and not a fun one. Hestran's tiresome pouting had forced Fabion to agree to provide Lanaro a free ride from New Yorkshire's snooty Shadyside district. Just his bad luck that Lanaro's agent occupied the same building as Fabion's. Fabion's agent owned two floors, Lanaro's agent owned a closet-size space. How dare the pedestrian elf think that he occupied Fabion's regal league? Duh, Fabion was a well-bred prince, so there.

As he sniffed in disdain, Fabion tossed his red mane in practiced dismissal. "Hey, I don't need to act different. I am different, because I am exceptionally special. I enter where I want, got it?" He pretended to ring a bell at the slackers. "Ding, ding, ding, this is the end of the line. Move your pretty asses from the limo. My man Matt is going home for the day."

Fabion leaned forward. He flashed a massive bonus into his driver's hand. Behind him, Lanaro's gasp added the perfect spice. Matt deserved the bonus for enduring those insults.

"Go have fun, dude."

"Thanks, Prince Fabion!" Matt saluted Fabion. "As usual I'll wait until you enter the park before I pull away."

"As usual I commend your wise idea. Catch ya later." Fabion exited into the ocher afternoon. Today even the air celebrated for him. At that moment, he doubted if anyone else in New Yorkshire acted giddier. His life embraced triumphant coolness, well, except for Lanaro's presence.

Fabion leaned down to see what was happening inside the limo. Hestran and Lanaro remained sprawled on the seats like sullen children overdosed on pixie dust. Fabion almost slammed the door and told Matt to drive on and drop the ornery duo somewhere nasty like Dog End Quay.

"Will you two move your pretty asses? Exit on this side. We need to hustle into the park."

Hestran's wide eyes conveyed panic. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, sweetie, we run for protection, because some ass-wipe might take a shot at us. Get out but remain low."

Fabion crouched and watched the other elves huddle beside him. He adored this dare. "On my count. One. Two. Three. Run!"

The trio darted across the grass toward the gate. Before they reached the protection offered by the remaining trees, a shot disturbed leaves from an overhead oak branch. Hestran shrieked in alarm.

No surprise, the elf-hating lunatic who roamed the hill opposite the entrance had shot at them. Inside the park, the limp, half-moldy leaves and runes deterred any further shooting.

Safe again! Fabion turned and shouted in snotty glee. "Up yours, you sorry asshole! You missed me again. Ever think about taking lessons?"

Fabion turned back to his companions and snickered. "See, dudes, that's why I told you to run. The nut-bunny hasn't hit me yet, but someday the goofball might get lucky. Yo, don't worry, his silly bullets are useless in here."