Taino Ti: by K.B. Forrest
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Yuis Rosales can't remember a time when he wasn't haunted by dreams of strange people, jungles, and the gods whose forms only he can create. Just when these nightmares are threatening to overtake him, he meets Felipe, who quickly invades both his waking, and his sleeping hours.
Yuis only wants to see his art hanging in a gallery, but when he leaves for Puerto Rico, he discovers a history so horrifying that his dreams pale in comparison. His past as a Taíno shaman collides with a madman's lust for mystical dominion...
Summoning his own power, Yuis must learn to trust his totem beast, Mukaro...and his passionate lover.
Omens delivered in dreams. Undecipherable words whispered into unwilling ears. Monstrous visions from the past, and a strange attraction to a strikingly handsome man force Yuis to face his shamanic future.
Excerpt:
Yuis stared out beyond the concrete walkway toward the beach where couples were walking hand in hand. The gentle waves lapped at the sand and the smell of the ocean beckoned to him.
He descended the concrete stairs, but just before he reached the beach, he cried out as powerful dizziness made him lose his balance. The steps seemed to dissolve and his body floated down. He fell onto the soft sand of the beach, and fought to regain his equilibrium. What was happening to him? He felt like he was in the grip of a nightmare and he was struggling with a heavy weight. He gasped as the feeling left him abruptly. The thumping salsa music had stopped. A tropical bird called out into the night and the sound rose high and then died away. Yuis stood and looked behind him, but the concrete stairs were gone. All he saw were rough slabs of stone that cut through the verdant jungle as they ascended through the dense mist of the evening.
Eyes were on him.
He whirled around as the haunting call of the owl rent the silence of the night.
Silhouetted against the moonlit waters was the form of powerful man. He could tell that he was as unclothed as nature had created him. Yuis took a step backward, but the man ran forward and grabbed him. It was Felipe, but Yuis's heart beat fast when he saw his long hair and the untamed look in his eyes. Felipe bent and kissed him. Yuis tried to pull away, but the heat from his kiss made his body remember what it felt like to have Felipe inside of him. He held Felipe tight and he could feel his throbbing erection on his belly. His passion escaped him in a moan of anticipation. Yuis's fingers were buried in Felipe's long hair and he arched his back as his tongue crept into his mouth.
Yuis pulled back to look at him, but he cried out in protest.
"Yuis, I must have you. It's the will of our ancestors that our souls be forever joined."
His ragged voice and the tension in his powerful frame made Yuis ache for him. The heat of his skin and the magic in this wild air uncoiled desire inside of him like he'd never known. He pulled Yuis down to the sand and kissed his neck. Felipe's hands roamed over his body caressing him, making him scream out his name in longing. Ceaseless desire that was as endless and primal as the ocean exploded in Yuis's head.
"Yuis."
The word, spoken with such passion, seemed to fade, but it resonated within him as the dizziness came over him again.
Calor del Amor: by K.B. Forrest
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Is the wide-eyed man-child Gabriel an innocent and naive kitten or is he a scarred and wily tomcat ready to pounce? Before he learns the truth, Detective Alejandro Cardoza must win the fight against his own willful body, which desperately wants Gabriel.
Gabriel Palacios flees his abusive father's clutches, even though he's been warned that the mad cop will stop at nothing to control him. He lands in New York City after enduring a trip with a demented admirer, only to find that he immediately comes under suspicion for a horrible crime.
Detective Alejandro Cardoza investigates this crime, but finds himself caught in a web of deceit and desire that threatens to ruin his career. He is determined to nab Gabriel, the prime suspect, but he finds his own heart under siege by love for this mysterious and tragic young man.
Excerpt:
Detective Cardoza walked over to the laptop and peered at the screen. He hit a key and looked up at Gabriel. "Murder? What is this?"
"No ... nothing! I'm writing a novel. It's none of your business!"
"Have you been overseas in the past five years?" Cardoza narrowed his eyes and continued grilling him. Gabriel was frightened, and he tried to hide his shaking hands.
"Well, I visited Puerto Rico when I was twelve, but that's not overseas. That's part of the U.S. It's not a foreign ..."
"Alright already!" Cardoza grimaced in annoyance. "Gabriel, I am Puerto Rican, so you don't have to convince me."
"So never been to a foreign country? Never to South America?" Cardoza moved closer. His hand reached for Gabriel's face and he stroked his cheek with his thumb. He bent closer. Gabriel felt his hot breath, and looked into his intense eyes until he could no longer stand it.
Gabriel stood up from the bed suddenly and backed away from him. He stepped back nervously and the back of his leg struck the leg of a rickety chair. Before he could regain his balance, Gabriel began to fall.
Detective Cardoza's notebook fell from his hands as he dashed forward and grabbed Gabriel by both shoulders. For a moment, Gabriel's knees buckled and Cardoza was holding him close to his broad chest. Gabriel's arms instinctively wrapped around him and the anxiety that had been eating away at his soul overwhelmed him. He began to sob into Cardoza's chest and he held Gabriel tightly so that he heard the steady thumping of his heart.
With his left hand, Cardoza began to stroke Gabriel's hair, and for a moment, he felt his warm breath near his ear. They were silent for what seemed to Gabriel like an eternity. For that moment, Gabriel felt as if he had died and was floating in a place where nothing bad could touch him. His father couldn't hurt him and the questions were far away. All he was aware of was the spicy smell of Cardoza's skin and his strong embrace. He wanted to stay like that forever.
Cardoza held him with one arm, and with the other tipped his head back. Gabriel couldn't stop his lips from parting in welcome as the man dipped in and tasted him. With their faces so close, Gabriel felt the soft, hot breath of the man inviting him to come closer, to join with him. His tongue, which had avoided the one being thrust into him, now had a mind of its own and it shyly ventured into the other man's mouth, but retreated hastily.
The act seemed to fuel Cardoza's passion. He bent in so that Gabriel felt his balance slip. He was held by one strong arm around his waist and another holding him by the back. He sighed deeply as he felt the man's erection poke his belly. His own rubbed against the man's thigh. For a few breathless minutes, they joined, lips to lips, and hot bodies against unwanted clothing. Gabriel felt that he would burst, and the thought embarrassed him out of the man's spell. It was like when you wake from a good dream and you want to continue sleeping, but it's too late. Gabriel pushed away from him and saw that Cardoza's eyes were slightly moist. Gabriel wished that they'd met under different circumstances, but then he remembered; Cardoza was the hunting dog, and he was the frightened fox.
"Enough for now," Detective Cardoza said in a husky voice. "I'll see you again soon, but take care of yourself. You better ..." He broke off as if he were unsure of what to do next. Then he was gone.
Still Waters: by K.B. Forrest
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What happens when a suave city-slicker must put his life in the hands of a country horn-dog, whose idea of elegance is a two-story outhouse? To Charlie, who just can't keep his hands off Yoshifumi's most private possession, it seems like "more fun than when the legs fell off Nellie's hamster."
Charlie Stillwaters thinks Yoshifumi Murakami is cuter than a sack full of puppies, even after he learns of his connections with the notorious Japanese Yakuza mob, and the fact that he's so mean that if a rattlesnake struck him five times, it'd die. There is something Charlie just has to have. He's bad after Yoshi - he's as hot as a billy-goat in a pepper patch, but will they live to do it … or will they die and become haints of the worst sort? With the New Orleans-based mob hot on their tails, and suspicions mounting, Yoshifumi is forced to pair up with Charlie, who insists that he can "learn him plain an' fittin' American," and who thinks 'possum in the half-shell, a.k.a. road-kill armadillo, is good eatin.'
Excerpt:
Charlie looked up once again and he saw that the sun's angle had changed, and red- gold sunlight poured over the scene. The brilliant rays of sunlight glowed on Yoshi's skin and were refracted by the beads of water that clung to him. Yoshi was half turned away from him and he was running his hands down his chest. Charlie inched forward to get a better look. It seemed that the dour, pessimistic man had a sensual side to him that he kept under close guard. He snickered and Yoshi froze. He let out another shriek of alarm and leapt out of the stream.
Charlie felt his stomach clench with fear. A water moccasin! He scrambled out of the cave. How am I going to get him to a hospital! Charlie's heart was pounding as he reached him. Yoshi was clutching his clothes to his groin and staring between his legs with horror.
"Oh my God, I'm gonna die!" he wailed.
"Where did it bite you? Did you see what kind of snake it was? Was it dark brown or did it have a white ..." Charlie stopped his tirade of questions and stepped back.
"Look!" Yoshi squeaked staring at the small brown tick that had attached itself to the skin of his dick. "I'm infected with lock jaw! I'll die a horrible, painful, lingering death! Oh God, I should've listened to Daddy! Now look! To have it all end like this! The pointlessness of it all! Oh the pitiless gods ..."
Charlie cut him off with uproarious laughter.
"This isn't funny!"
Charlie laughed so hard that tears were squeezed out of his eyes. It felt good to laugh after such terrifying things had happened to them. He fell back against a tree, still heaving with laughter.
"You ain't gonna die. This is your first tick, ain't it? Congratulations.
The Sorcerer's Secret: by K.B. Forrest
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Back Cover:Fire-dreams of Fire-visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn't know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn't know the extent of Aryazate's secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate's worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire-by the same fire that haunts his dreams?
Excerpt:
Pride of the Beast: by K.B. Forrest
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Fleeing a charge of murdering his master, Artavan, the orphan slave boy, joins his noble friend Tork, on a mission beyond the village-where it is rumored that demons and monsters roam. They soon encounter two sinister strangers who may have a link to Artavan's unknown past. The Sorcerer Angraminyu, a powerful mage bent on killing one of the strangers, Prince Devdata, will not allow Artavan and Tork to part ways with them, not that Artavan wants to. Although he once thought that Tork was his only comfort, now he begins to see something concealed in his shifty eyes. Does Tork know something about him, which he wishes to hide? Who really is his friend? When he finds himself in the strong arms of Prince Devdata, Artavan's heart disobeys his mind, even though grief will surely be the result.
Excerpt:
Son of Fire: by K.B. Forrest
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In a world lit only by fire, Atar still sees honor even as hope dims
Dragons and sorcerers populate Atar's world. A lost prince taken in by a tribe of savage Scythians, he is hated and abused because of his disabilities. He does not know that he is to be the next Firestarter. As he is forced to confront evils he never imagined possible, he also gains the strength to find his voice and his honor. Watching and hating him, his half-brother, son of the evil wizard Dahaka waits for the opportunity to take away Atar's destiny for himself. How will Atar and his werewolf companion and lover, Bulliwuf, thwart and evil they cannot see?
Excerpt:
Excerpt:
Atar crept out of the camp. He could feel the night wind. It still had a chill of winter. The moon was waxing high in the clear sky and it shone on the landscape like an eerie noontime sun. Atar felt his breath quicken. Tonight was a time of celebration, especially since he had been miraculously granted his boon.
He was dancing, he realized with a distant part of himself. He was moving his graceful, muscular body in the moonlight to the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It was the sound of a young girl, sighing as she discovered the passion of love for the first time, yet this voice was deep, ancient, and eternal. He laughed richly, throwing his head back, delighted with life. He was alone, he knew, and this knowledge allowed him to dance in honor of that odd, achingly beautiful voice without any inhibitions.
Out of the dark emerged a tall form, resplendently silver in the moonlight. Atar stood suddenly dazed as he recognized the werewolf.
His silvery hair shone in the dark. His eyes, so cunning in the face of a wolf, still held a deep mystery. In one large hand he held a bouquet of exquisite flowers. These he handed to Atar, who was too stunned to speak.
"Is this how it is done, my dear Atar? I saw you give such a thing to the girl. I was hoping..."
Atar was used to speaking with Bulliwuf mentally. This was perhaps why he never spoke to the others. Only Bulliwuf understood. He struggled to speak. He opened his mouth, but only a sigh emerged as Bulliwuf pulled him closer, so that their bodies met. Atar felt the hardness of the werewolf, and his heat. The flowers fell from his hand as his arms instinctively embraced Bulliwuf's strong back. The werewolf buried his nose in Atar's hair, snuffing as he usually did. His hot tongue, so familiar, lapped around his ear. Hot desire emanated from the silvery form. Atar went stiff with the sensation. He held on as if his life depended on it, and the heat from the naked werewolf seemed to seep into every part of his willing body.
He'd always found acceptance with Bulliwuf. To be loved fully, to be an object of desire, rather than of scorn made him feel confused and weak. Bulliwuf took his face in his large hands and held him as he kissed Atar deeply. He took of him hungrily, until Atar was breathless. Their hot bodies intertwined, and Atar felt his soul rise to places he'd never imagined existed.
Excerpt:
Trial by Fire: by K.B. Forrest
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Chief Melik of the Scythian Paralatae tribe is dead, horribly mutilated. Evil Zohak leads the warriors in accusing Atar, who must now run for his life. Atar decides to go to the great One Hundred Year Festival with his lover, the werewolf Bulliwuf. Arriving at the festival with no money, Atar joins several competitions, which have significant prizes. Atar's quest for money brings him to the attention of the evil wizard Dahaka, who first mistakes him for his long lost son. The Summons will be heard by all qualified mages at the end of the festival, but only one can be awarded the title and power of the Firestarter. Zohak and his father Dahaka plan to see to it that Atar never hears the Summons.
The shame of rejection beating down on him, Atar must still rise to face challenges, or death at the hands of a wizard.
Excerpt:
Excerpt for Trial by Fire:
The night air was cool against his over-heated body. It glided over him like liquid silk. They stopped by an icy creek and lapped the water like animals. Atar had his head bent over the clear water, when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. Ishria, as if knowing that it was time to rest, began to pull on grass.
"I have suffered through so much, my friend," Bulliwuf said in a voice so smooth and luscious that Atar gasped. "I have seen you succeed and I have wanted to take you so many times. Do you know how hard it is for me?"
He took Atar into his strong arms and pushed him against the trunk of a dark, ancient oak. "I want you now. I can't wait." Bulliwuf's silvery-blue eyes had the eerie shine of an animal. He stared into Atar's eyes and cupping his chin, he kissed him. First lightly-so lightly that it was as if a feather passed over his lips. Atar pushed against him now. He hadn't realized how much his own passion had been pent up. His hands moved over Bulliwuf's powerful body. He could feel the nakedness of the werewolf rubbing against him, and it was more than he could take. He ran eager hands through the silver hair that was soft-almost like a rich fur, but so long. His ears were hot. His whole body seemed too hot.
Atar had never taken the lead in their love making, but now he moved with aggression. Bulliwuf chuckled in his deep baritone, and this excited Atar. How sweet he tasted. Atar kissed him all over, panting as his hands moved over the muscles. He knew Bulliwuf's body so well. It was as if it had just dawned upon him. He wanted nothing more, and he knew that for all of his bragging about women, that Bulliwuf only wanted him. Atar wanted to own Bulliwuf. He wanted to take him in and adore him forever.
The stars shone brightly in the night sky and the air hummed with life as it had done on a night, many, many years ago. As their bodies came together and they cried out in passion, the world seemed to join with them. The cacophony of night animal sounds, the babbling of the water in the creek, even the sounds no human could hear enveloped them as Bulliwuf shared his awesome power with Atar. For that moment, Atar saw and heard things through his werewolf. The night cried out with them and pulsated with eternal life.
Burned Dreams: by K.B. Forrest
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Atar is now the Firestarter, but his only wish is to escape to the land of his dreams. It is the fabled "Land of the Water Dogs," where white mares graze by a crystalline lake. Atar and Bulliwuf are making their way there, but as the rightful heir to the throne of the Persian Empire, Atar is thrown into responsibilities he does not wish to face. Zohak is waiting to pounce on the throne. He is also an heir, but his rule will bring disaster to the fair land. When forced to compete for the throne, Zohak loses until he cuts a deal with a demon. Zohak was once the evil brother of Atar. Now he is a demon.
And then the Evil Spirit, who is full of destruction, whittled forth the Dragon of Drought.-The Videvdad.
Excerpt:
Excerpt from Burned Dreams:
"Do you want this?"
"Yes! Yes!" Zohak screamed.
The Goddess was inches away now. Zohak was surprised to feel the deep fear struggle violently to the surface, he thrust his hands out, warding her away, his face a mask of fear, but it was too late. He couldn't move.
She bent her head, and kissed his right shoulder with unseen lips. Tiny fangs pierced his skin. They were scalding hot, like fire. Zohak shuddered with pleasure. She kissed his left shoulder, tiny fangs again piercing his skin. Zohak felt the most wondrous waves of power shoot through him. He felt like a god!
Then Zohak screamed and screamed. He fell to his knees, screaming. And all the while, his head rang with the sharp, measured sound of iron striking iron. The sound rolled through him, tearing at him, tearing at his sanity like a raging river. The awful clanging mingled with his pain, producing a fear inside him unlike any he had ever experienced. He screamed until the blood dripped out of his mouth and nose. He felt the most awful sense of shame and violation that he had ever known. The pain persisted like fire, with unbearable intensity. The Goddess behind him laughed. The thick air was foul with the scent of rotting corpses and vile things.
"What have you done? What have you done?" Zohak screamed at the presence, hating it with all the intensity of his pain. He could not hear his own words for the awful clanging in his head. The measured tones fell with inexorable precision. Zohak fell to the floor, clutching his shoulders as more unbearable pain centralized there. Under the palms of his hands, he felt his shoulders swelling. He felt something smooth push against the palms of his hands.
"What…what's happening to me? What? Ahh!"
Zohak screamed again, but his voice was horrible to hear. The weak, rasping croak was a parody of his normal clear voice. He took his hands away, but he could feel the things growing. A hungry hissing filled the chamber, and the clanging died away. Zohak strained to hear it, but the hissing was now dominant.
"No! No!" Zohak sobbed, wishing this were a dream.
The chamber was in blackness again. Zohak stumbled over to his room, and fumbled for the lamp. He somehow got the thing lit. Blinded by tears, he blundered into his bedroom. The light from the lamp seemed to be swallowed up by the utter darkness around him. He froze before the mirror, shaking his head in denial. Through his tears, he saw the sleek black shapes weaving in the air above his head. Their scales glinted in the yellow light as they undulated ceaselessly in a way that was sensual, but at the same time unspeakably horrible.
The one on his right shoulder dipped and flicked his damp hair with its red, forked tongue. The copper eyes of both snakes regarded Zohak with steady malevolent intelligence through the mirror.
Banner of Fire: by K.B. Forrest
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Zohak, the evil brother of the Firestarter Atar, has made the ultimate pact with the demons. He learns that the power the dragon-snakes have given him does not come without a cost. He is horrified to find that they require human brains for food. Atar if faced with the final test. The winner gains the throne of the Persian Empire. Meanwhile, the kingdom is wracked with disturbances. The drought has caused famine. Zohak institutes a monstrous tithe, and Kava, the blacksmith loses his family. The Army of the People rises under Atar and Kava, but they are faced with an Imperial army now composed of full and part blooded demons, sorcerers, and wizards. Their only hope is the power contained in the body of Atar, the Firestarter, but he must first find a way to activate it.
Excerpt:
Excerpt from Banner of Fire:
The drip, drip, drip of water cut through the air. Each drip reverberated in his head. Zohak opened his eyes slowly. At least the clanging hadn't started. His limbs were heavy. He tried to speak, but only a low moan escaped his lips. He thrashed his head and moaned louder. He saw the figure in the doorway. It was dark, but rays of light made a fiery backdrop. He moaned again and tried in vain to move. The figure casually set a huge mace down and pulled a wicked-looking knife out of its sheath. Zohak recognized it as the knife belonging to his foster father, Melik of the Stout Ribs. He had given it to Zohak just before he was murdered.
The man's face was visible now. It was Atar the Idiot, his half-brother, and the real heir to the throne. Zohak wanted to plead with him. Atar's face was impassive. All of its anger was gone. He pulled off the covers to reveal Zohak's naked body and then, as if working with a deer carcass, he began to flay Zohak. Unable to scream, Zohak moaned in torment and terror.
Instead of the torment ending in death, he was roughly dragged out of his bloody bed and it was then that the clanging began. The dragon snakes were already writhing in agony with their master, but now their frantic movements maddened him.
Clang, clang, clang!
Another figure appeared at the door. He was a huge man-yes, it was the blacksmith Kava. He was carrying iron chains. He took these and wrapped them around Zohak's burning body and they made his flesh sizzle like roasting meat. Zohak was overwhelmed with the horrifying odor of his own burning flesh. The blacksmith eyed Zohak for a moment then reached back to something he'd set on the floor. He put an ox yoke on Zohak's neck.
Zohak could see the agony in the man's mind. He saw the blacksmith's daughter, the one his dragon snakes had eaten. His skinless body burned at the memory. He could see and feel the agony of every person he'd fed to his snakes. In response, the snakes vomited a vile-smelling substance that tortured him as it spilled over his exposed flesh.
The men were making him walk. They moved on and on until they reached a mountain that looked horribly black. They led him into a cave deep in the mountain. The blacksmith held a hammer in one hand and a long iron spike in the other. He was unable to move as the man hammered the spikes into his body, pinning him into the rock. Zohak realized that the man was being careful not to harm his vital organs.
The two men left him in the darkness and suddenly Zohak found his voice.
Zohak's screaming brought the guards, his viziers, and even his wife, Jahi the Lovely. "Bring the astrologers and magicians," he croaked.
His hair was in disarray and he hadn't changed his bedclothes. Urine soaked the front and back of his robe, but Zohak didn't care.
"So what does this dream mean?"
"We cannot be certain…"
"It can mean several things. Perhaps not all bad," another astrologer said.
"Guards!" Zohak roared. "Prepare to have these men all flayed alive. They are hiding the truth for fear."
An old astrologer, the chief, stood. "I will tell you. The reason we hesitate is that there is no good news. The dream means this: Everyman is born not for his parents, but as a tithe for death. No person-not even the highest king, can escape death. It means too, that your evil deeds have earned you a terrible reward. The man they call the 'Firestarter' will come back and he will destroy you. The blacksmith of your dream represents the many people you have killed to satisfy the greed of your snakes. Because of that greed, people have risen against you. You cannot escape your destiny, which is endless suffering as an eternal captive in Mount Damavand. The iron with which they bound you represents good over evil. The blacksmith works with iron. Iron represents forces that work against demons. It means, in short, that you are now not a man, but a demon. For you, death would be a blessing."
The Impossible Promise: by K.B. Forrest
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Roscoe didn’t mean to do it. He beat a woman almost to death, but hell, she was a whore. A woman who had no appreciation for him! He knows one thing: he is a lot of man to love. Now her pimp is ordering him to pay up. He knows he can do it because he’s in line for a big raise. One small thing stands in his way: Darlene Savage. Darlene wants to make it as a network technician because she has what it takes, even if all of her co-workers are male. One big thing stands in her way: Roscoe, a man who hates her and believes no woman can do his kind of work. He is constantly scheming to get her fired, but the competition heats up when a new job opens. Darlene finds an ally in Billy-Bob, a fascinating geek by day, and cowboy by night. The only problem? He’s like a changeling. She never knows what will come up next. What she doesn’t know is that Billy-Bob is not just one man. He is really two men—identical twins, and one of them is courting her without the other’s knowledge. Will she finally realize and make her choice, or will Roscoe make sure she never lives to choose?
Excerpt:
Excerpt from The Impossible Promise:
"Hi, darlin', I was just over to see Mr. Flarck. He wanted to ask me if we'd had lunch. What was that about?"
She closed the door and fell into his arms crying. When she finished her story, Bob was surprised that even though he'd done this to hurt Billy, he felt real sympathy for the beautiful young woman. It seemed that someone was out to get her canned.
"So he tried to frame you so that you won't be considered for the job? That's low. Look, here is my cell phone number." He wrote the number on the back of his official business card. "If you need me to vouch for you or to catch these guys at their game, just let me know. I'll break that whale's leg if he tries anything."
Darlene was wiping her tears, and he put a hand on her face, holding her as he dabbed a tear with his thumb. God, she was beautiful.
"Tonight when we go out, I'll let you know if anything else happens," she said.
He realized that Billy and Darlene had made plans for a date. This meeting was going to screw things up, but since his stomach still hurt from Billy's punch, he deserved it. He said goodbye and started to leave when a huge man with a pendulous gut came charging out of the next office. A smarmy smile spread over his face. He pushed past Bob and looked into Darlene's office.
He shook a fat finger at her and said, "Get a room."
Bob was instantly filled with rage. He recognized that Roscoe fellow from her description. There couldn't be two of the same blob. He grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him close ferociously. "You watch yourself, Buster. I've de-nuttered my share of hogs, and I'll do it again any day. You cross me, or my woman, and I'll make you squeal like a stuck pig, you hear me? Answer before I get my nut-clippers out."
Roscoe said, "Let me go. Oh God, I'll do whatever you say."
"You address me as Oh God, Sir." Bob shook the man until his jowls trembled like pouches of Jell-O.
"Oh God, Sir." Roscoe said obediently.
Bob walked down the hall assertively, hearing his cowboy boots clip along the polished floor. He imagined Darlene laughing in her office.
Coming Soon!