Tuesday, January 12, 2016
J. J. Collins Strikes Again!
Friend and fellow M/M writer J. J. Collins has a new release out from Evernight Publishing today. Priceless is a science fiction tale of an art dealer who finds himself in possession of a sexy alien male. There's a long excerpt on the Evernight site. Here's part of it.
Most of the items he’d seen before. Jovin averted his eyes from the more pornographic and focused on seeking the new. The skin of an ebony cat, still with its black-diamond sheen. A golden statue of a naked, impossibly handsome man, seated on a crate. A picture of—Jovin hastily looked away. Zhee artwork, normally so sublime, sometimes veered off into darker directions. Even worse, he knew someone who’d pay hugely for this particular piece. That churned his stomach all the more.
He caught himself rubbing his nose. Something stank in here. Spicy-sweet, like cinnamon. Like…
The statue raised its head.
Jovin went absolutely still. His eyes and his nostrils widened. Holy Ghod, that wasn’t a statue. That was a living being.
But… Jovin cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He couldn’t be alive. Nothing so beautiful existed in nature. He had to have been sculpted, inch by loving inch, by the hands of a master artist. Standing, he’d top six feet, perfectly proportioned and every muscle exquisitely defined. Bronze hair, cropped short, capped a face designed to lure the unwary toward lips designed to seduce. His skin was the color of molten gold. In the gloom of the dingy room, it almost seemed to glow.
Eyes like emeralds met Jovin’s, naked and direct. Jovin reeled from an almost physical jolt. Those eyes promised sex that could burn a man to the ground and pulverize the ashes. Jovin automatically grabbed at his raincoat and tugged a fold over his crotch.
The golden man’s perfect mouth formed a slight smile. The tip of his tongue appeared and wet his lower lip.
Sweat started on Jovin’s forehead. He couldn’t even move his hand enough to wipe it off. Insistent demands hammered at his awareness from underneath his raincoat. Damn, it had suddenly gotten stuffy as hell in here.
Wait a minute. That wasn’t some trick of the gloom. The golden man really was glowing.
Cray’s nauseating chuckle at his back made him jump. “Finally noticed him, did you? I had a bet with myself. Took you less than five minutes. You win.”
Jovin gratefully seized the excuse and wrenched his stare off the golden man, whirling on Cray instead. “That’s—” His voice came out gravelly, ragged with want. He tried again. “That’s a—”
“A Telzhan.” Cray’s smile spread across his ugly pumpkin face. “A male, thank Azira. All the better for us. Nothing human can keep up with the women. And,” he finished triumphantly, “he’s right on the verge of rut.”