Life Class

by Scarlet Blackwell

  He leaned close to his lover and kissed him softly. Harley’s mouth stretched into a smile beneath his own. Ryan smiled too. Finally, after six months, he was where he wanted to be. From now on, he would always listen to his heart rather than his head.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Scarlet Blackwell please visit www.scarletblackwell.com. Send an email to Scarlet at scarlet.blackwell@hotmail.com.

  Look for these titles by Scarlet Blackwell

  Coming Soon:

  Just Desserts

  A quirky holiday romance about Faith, Hope, and…er…glow-in-the-dark condoms!

  The Dickens with Love

  © 2009 Josh Lanyon

  Three years ago, a scandal cost antiquarian “book hunter” James Winter everything that mattered to him: his job, his lover and his self-respect. But now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants that book at any price, and he needs James to get it for him. There’s just one catch. James can’t tell the nutty professor who the buyer is.

  Actually, two catches. The nutty Professor Crisparkle turns out to be totally gorgeous—and on the prowl. Faster than you can say, “Old Saint Nick,” James is mixing business with pleasure…and in real danger of forgetting that this is just a holiday romance.

  Just as they’re well on the way to having their peppermint sticks and eating them too, Sedgwick discovers the truth. James has been a very bad boy. And any chance Santa will bring him what he wants most is disappearing quicker than the Jolly Old Elf’s sleigh.

  Warning: This book contains an ocelot, songs by America, Stardust martinis, tinsel, long-lost manuscripts, Faith, Hope and…Love.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Dickens with Love:

  I dreamed that an ocelot was chewing on a first edition of A Christmas Carol. When I tried to snatch the book away, it sank its fangs into my hand.

  Head throbbing, I opened my eyes to watery green daylight. I was in a hotel room. A very comfortable hotel room that smelled of orange furniture polish and sex. The fluffy duvet and long draperies were in matching old-fashioned pink and gray cabbage rose print. Rain trickled down the windowpanes of a pair of French doors and sent sperm-shaped shadows twitching and jerking across the sage green walls.

  My head hurt. That was because I’d had too much to drink. My hand hurt. That was because a strange man was lying on it.

  I wriggled my hand out from under my naked companion and studied him. Sedgwick Crisparkle looked less angelic and more rakishly debauched that morning. He had quite a heavy beard and the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a guy. He did not snore, but he made a gentle puffing sound. He looked deeply asleep and unreasonably content.

  I flexed my fingers a couple of times, then sat up carefully, wincing, and looked around for my clothes. They were on the floor near the door where I’d apparently dropped them. I inched over, trying not to wake my host, and got slowly, cautiously out of bed.

  I had to stop halfway to the door to give my spinning head a rest. How the hell much had I had to drink the night before? Not that much really, but I hadn’t eaten. Those shooting stars, or whatever they were called, packed an unexpected wallop. I tried to make out the numbers on my watch. They seemed very tiny. I peered harder.

  Six thirty. Plenty of time. I didn’t need to be at work until four. I could go home, sleep more, shower, and…call Mr. S.

  “Not feeling well?”

  I jumped, whimpered and clutched my head. “Must you shout?”

  “Sorry.” Part of what he said was lost in a gigantic yawn. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I heard the rustle of bedclothes being thrown back and the pad of bare feet on carpet. The drapes were jerked shut and the room returned to a soothing darkness. I heard him pad past me on his way back to bed, so when a warm hand was laid on my naked shoulder I did another of those starts and yelps.

  “You have a very nervous disposition,” Sedgwick said disapprovingly. “You ought to consider supplementing your diet with bee pollen.”

  I gazed up at him, opened my mouth. Closed it. Closed my eyes. Why not? I was clearly still dreaming. Bee pollen?

  “I think you should come back to bed.” I opened my eyes at that particular note in his voice. Sedgwick was smiling a funny sort of shy half-smile. “I think you’d feel much better in bed.”

  He put his arm around me and I permitted myself to be led back to bed.

  When I woke the next time the sun was shining and a busboy was carefully lowering a large tray with covered dishes to the table in front of the fireplace.

  “Lovely,” Sedgwick was saying as he signed the busboy’s chit.

  I raised my head, peering owlishly over the edge of the duvet, and the busboy grinned at me before taking his bill book and departing.

  When the door had safely closed, I climbed out of bed, pulled on my jeans—to Sedgwick’s evident disappointment—and investigated the breakfast tray. A white teapot, two gold-rimmed china cups, a jar of honey, a small basket of muffins and nut breads, a bowl of fresh berries. One plate offered eggs Benedict with shaved honey ham and what appeared to be an herbed Hollandaise sauce. Another plate had thick round Belgian waffles, richly, sweetly scented of vanilla, cinnamon and topped with whipped cream, fresh strawberries and pecans.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Sedgwick said at whatever he read in my expression. “We can share or I can order you something completely different.” He was wearing the kind of gorgeous silk dressing gown people only wear in old movies and the horn-rimmed glasses, but even behind those severe glasses his face looked much younger and softer that morning.

  I dropped down on the fat comfortable chair cattycorner to the table. “No. This is…amazing. Any of this is fine.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a breakfast like this.

  He looked smug. “We’ll split everything down the middle.”

  “We will if we eat all this.”

  He laughed. “I admit I don’t usually eat like this, although I do like my breakfasts. I’m on holiday, though, so…when in Rome.”

  “I’m very glad you’re not in Rome this morning.” I heard myself say that and cringed. Talk about sappy. I added quickly, “I’d be eating a bowl of Cheerios right now.”

  “I’m glad I’m not in Rome too.” He smiled right into my eyes.

  After that I couldn’t think of anything to say, and I devoted myself to eating that fantastic breakfast.

  As vocal as Sedgwick had been in bed, he was not terribly chatty over breakfast. It seemed to be a replete and satisfied silence, though. He appeared content, and each time our eyes met, he offered that disarming smile.

  In fact, it felt so natural and comfortable between us, I was encouraged to ask, “Will you let me have another look at The Christmas Cake?”

  Sedgwick’s gaze dropped to the egg-topped muffin he was neatly cutting through. “No.”

  “No?” I felt bewildered, not least by the brusqueness of this. “Why?”

  He sighed. “After last night I’d hoped you’d let this go.”

  What the hell did last night have to do with it? “I was hired to appraise the book. I’m being paid to do that. If I ‘let this go’ I also have to let go of that commission. Which I need.”

  He said quietly, “James, I think we’re both realists.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “If you don’t stop now, you’re liable to spoil this, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. Spoil this? How is asking to see the book spoiling anything?” And now I was starting to get annoyed.

  Behind the severe glasses, Sedgwick raised his green-gold eyes, gave me a long, direct stare.

  “I don’t know what that look is supposed to mean.”

  “It means we’re having a very nice time together. Let’s not ruin it by bringing up…unpleasant m
emories.”

  It took me a beat or two to work out what he was referring to. The rush of anger and hurt left me feeling winded. Lack of oxygen made my voice come out flat and compressed. “I thought you didn’t believe the rumors about me.”

  He said with all the dispassionate exactitude one could ask of a science teacher, “What I said was, no one accused you of being directly involved in murder or forgery. That is all I said.”

  I’m sure my disbelief showed on my face. Hopefully nothing else showed. The laugh that escaped me took us both by surprise. “You’re right. My mistake.”

  I got up, my knee knocking the edge of my plate and tipping it over. The waffle landed in a sticky plop face down on the plush carpet. I didn’t give a fuck about that. I didn’t give a fuck about anything at that point. It was all very clear, diamond-edged and razor-bright. He didn’t trust me. He thought I had possibly been involved in murder and forgery, but he liked having sex with me—or possibly with anyone and I happened to be willing—and he didn’t want me to spoil that by bringing up something as awkward as business.

  Sedgwick rose too. “James.”

  I ignored him, finding my shirt and buttoning it up quickly. I got one of the buttonholes misaligned, so it hung crookedly—appropriately, it seemed—but I didn’t care. Was not going to stay in that room one instant longer than I had to.

  “James—?”

  I was hunting with fierce attention for my other shoe. I found it under his side of the bed.

  “Apparently I’ve offended you. I…didn’t intend to.”

  Now that was almost funny. I slipped the shoe on. I was missing my socks, but that really seemed a small price to pay for getting out of there without committing murder for real.

  “I’m not sure what I—oft times I put things more bluntly than I intend,” Sedgwick was saying. He sounded a fraction impatient. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  I found my jacket and headed for the door. He was right behind me.

  “James, I really don’t see—” He put a hand on my shoulder, and I spun around and shoved him back. The arm of the sofa caught him behind his thighs, and he half fell back over it, glasses crooked, blinking up in astonishment at me.

  I said, “Enjoy the rest of your stay in L.A., arsehole.”

  I managed not to slam the door on my way out.

  Two men. One passion. No choice.

  Beyond Meridian

  © 2010 C.C. Bridges

  A Men in Space Story

  Captain Rick Raine got more than he bargained for when he agreed to take on a brash young man as a crewmember along with contraband cargo. Karl’s spirit intrigues him, but he didn’t sign up for battling privateers, the United Planetary Alliance—or his traitorous body’s response. Especially to a naïve kid who cheats at holo poker and knows a whole lot more than he should.

  Deep in the heart of enemy space, Karl’s goal, to rescue the woman who saved him from a life of sexual servitude, is finally close enough to touch. Unfortunately, so is Captain Raine, who becomes erotic poetry in motion when he pilots the ship. Raine’s an honest thief, but Karl can’t trust him with UPA secrets that could get them both killed.

  But when Karl signed on for this mission, no one told him to hang on to his heart…

  Warning: hot man-on-man sex, talking spaceships, eight-legged robots, space pirates, a potty-mouthed space cowboy, a beautiful woman in distress and a sad lack of laser sword battles.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Beyond Meridian:

  Naturally the kid showed up at the crack of the dawn with his damn cargo. Okay, maybe it wasn’t dawn exactly, but still, it was way too early for Raine, who hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The lights of the space dock had his eyes watering. Raine blinked at the kid—what was his name again? Kyle? Kasper? Karl? Karl! Karl looked way too smug, standing on the catwalk while Raine leaned against the hull of his ship. He’d opened the hatch when he got the alert that someone had entered his port.

  “You serious? You found something that fast?” Raine shook his head.

  Karl smiled, and damn, Raine had been right in his assessment the night before. The smile lit up his whole face, made those eyes sparkle. He didn’t look like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore. It suited him, turned him from a pretty boy into something special. Raine couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I’m just that good,” the kid said with a wink, and now there was a surprise.

  “You picked up that sense of humor I was talking about too.”

  Before Karl could reply, his mouth snapped shut and the smile drained from his face. At first Raine didn’t know why, but then he turned and saw Leah coming out of the ship. She was adjusting the tie on her top, knotting it at the back of her neck. It was designed to show off the blue and lavender tattoo on her lower back, leaving much of the skin bare.

  “Mmm, good morning,” she said as she stretched. “Thanks, Captain. I’ll have Madam update your tab.”

  If looks could kill, Raine knew he’d be dead ten times over right now. He’d rather have the kid smiling than staring daggers. Course, the kid hadn’t seen anything yet.

  As if right on cue, Michael emerged from the ship, his golden hair sticking up in all directions. He gave Raine a sleepy smile. “Thanks, Captain.”

  “Stars,” Karl muttered, crossing his arms and looking away as Raine saw the two workers off, a kiss for Leah and a nice ass squeeze for Michael.

  Raine ignored the death glare for the moment. “Where’s this cargo of yours, kid?”

  “Getting inspected. It’ll need your authorization before it can be sent to your dock.”

  “I hope you negotiated a damn good price.” Raine walked along the gangplank toward the wall of the spaceport, where he could access his account and authorize the shipment. “Where are we taking it anyway?”

  “Neo Delhi.”

  Raine rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t be anything fun, then. Neo Delhi was ridiculously picky about what was and was not let onto the planet.

  He punched in his code and skimmed the authorization request. “And how much are we getting paid?”

  “It’s twelve grand for the shipment. You can keep the profit. Like I said, I just need transport to Mendhem.”

  “And transport back. I didn’t miss that part. Wasn’t that drunk last night.” Twelve grand was more than fair.

  “No, you were too busy doing other things last night.”

  Raine punched in his approval for the cargo before whirling around. “What’s wrong, kid, you have a problem with sex?”

  He was gratified to see a pink blush rise on the kid’s cheeks, pleased at embarrassing him. Karl would really need to relax if he planned on traveling with Raine.

  “I have a problem with people paying for it,” Karl said through gritted teeth.

  “You are really on the wrong planet, then.” Raine closed out his transaction with the terminal. The cargo would be delivered as soon as it cleared inspection. “I’m a businessman. I don’t have a problem with making a business transaction. It’s not like I didn’t deliver on my part of the bargain. I get what I paid for and they get a little more toward clearing out their contracts.”

  Karl snorted. “Right. What doesn’t go to the Madam or Sir for room and board and whatever other fees they can think of. You’re living in a dreamland if you think it’s a fair transaction.”

  “Look, kid, I don’t give a shit about saving the solar system and all that. The arrangement is what it is.”

  “Right.” But those eyes stayed hard, like two shards of cold blue glass.

  It sounded like a damn good time to change the subject. Raine moved back toward his ship. “What the hell is the cargo, anyway?”

  “The official version?”

  He turned and raised an eyebrow at the kid who hadn’t moved. “What’s the contraband?” Because honestly, you didn’t pay twelve grand to take just anything to Neo Delhi.

  Karl smirked again, though this smile d
idn’t reach his eyes. “Lingerie.”

  Raine barked out a laugh. Must be some kinky shit, because they didn’t let that kind of stuff in past customs on Neo Delhi. “Hidden in what?”

  “Crates of clothing for sale. There are false bottoms.”

  Trust the kid to find some shady deals his first time out. Raine shook his head. “Well, come on. I think it’s about time I show you around my ship.”

  It was worth it just to see the kid smile again.

  Just when Karl thought he had Rick Raine figured out, the man went and did something else that surprised him. He’d seen the arrogant trader in the bar, the oversexed rogue on the gangplank, and now, as Raine showed off his ship, Karl saw something else, something he couldn’t quite identify. There was affection in his voice, and if Raine had been talking about a person, Karl would have said it was love. He even caressed the hull, showing off strong, well-formed fingers that made Karl wonder what else those hands were good at doing.

  He shook himself out of those thoughts, forcing himself to pay attention.

  “She’s a modified F2400 series out of Heijing. I had all her engines refitted two years ago, so she’s almost brand new.” Raine spoke as they entered the ship. “Standard crew for a ship of this kind is six. There are two sets of personal quarters—one for the captain and one for the first mate. Berths in the hull for the remaining crew.”

  “Yet you run her by yourself?” Karl followed on Raine’s heels, trying to take in all the details, memorizing the way through the cargo hold and past the personal quarters, up toward the bridge.

  “I have two maintenance bots,” Raine explained. “They keep the engines going. Fine repairs I do myself. And as for piloting her, well, Dina all but pilots herself.”

  Karl opened his mouth to ask about that, but they’d stepped on the bridge at that point and the front wall sparked into life. A woman appeared on the screen, with long chestnut hair and blue eyes. She paid more than a passing resemblance to the ship’s captain and Karl wondered if that wasn’t intentional.