‘Hello, tall, dark and handsome.’ Out and proud gay Albuquerque Homicide Detective Eagle Woodard studied cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma Dr. Adam Coulter, criminal profiler, with a clinical eye. ‘Slender build…narrow waist, but nicely muscled underneath that Hugo Boss suit. People think you work out, Kemo, but you don’t.’ Eagle’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘You know I hate that day old beard look, but you were probably too wasted to bother. Nice eyes, green when they aren’t blood shot. Flawless tanned skin except for that tiny scar through your cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma left eyebrow.’ The former Army Ranger grinned. ‘I gave that to you accidentally when we were 8 cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma years old. When you stood up for this Navajo kid in an cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma all white school. We both got our asses kicked.’ Eagle sighed and shook his head. That was the day he’d fallen in love with 4 times married, 4 times divorced, current roommate, Adam Coulter.
The cool wind attacked Eagle Woodard’s body as he fell head over heels. He tumbled, body tightly tucked as he cleared the modified Cessna, momentarily catching sight of the blue, cloudless horizon before stretching out to embrace the air. Below him, the rust toned surrealist canvas of desert and mountains began cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma to take shape as he allowed himself to freefall through cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma the biting tempest. The winds transformed his tanned face, warping it into a mad, Joker-esque grin.
Eagle tilted his head down. He pressed his legs together with toes pointed toward the cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma heavens, becoming a human bullet streaking through the atmosphere. He could feel the friction heating his head and shoulders. His dark, goggle covered eyes flickered to the left, quickly gauging his altitude in relation to the horizon. One…, two…, three seconds passed.
With an agility reminiscent of his aviary namesake, he arched his back, catching the horrendous pounding of the wind squarely on his cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma upper chest, making it difficult to breathe. Deliberately spreading his arms and sinewy legs, he succeeded in capturing the furious gale, harnessing it. Using calculated care, he began slowing his descent from Father Sky toward Amá cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma ni’ , Mother Earth.
Eagle reveled in the multitude of sensations inundating his body. The angry roar of the wind deafened him. The white noise of the rushing air blotted out all cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma sound except for the popping of the black, nylon jumpsuit. The wind strained the cloth protecting him almost to its cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma limit. The powerful, talon-like turbulence threatened to shred his clothes, leaving him bare and unprotected from the tempest. The bee sting lash of his long, raven ponytail as it whipped against his neck and face cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma revitalized and reddened his brown skin.
‘ Four…, five…, six…, seven…, eight.’ With an eerie calm, Woodard counted the seconds. As he drew closer and closer to terra firma , his confidence in his abilities never wavered. Here he was master. Here he was the great bird of his people’s folklore. He was the embodiment of Atsáh, the Eagle, swooping with deadly accuracy toward his prey on the ground.
A grunt of air was forced from his lungs. The nylon straps crisscrossing his body suddenly tightened, drawing him up. Eagle grimaced as pain seared up his back. The sudden opening of his parachute at this rate of cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma speed aggravated more than one old injury. Gravity, the purveyor of his discomfort, pressed his chin to his chest for an instant before cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma the strain of rapid deceleration eased.
With skill born of countless jumps, Eagle maneuvered the billowing canopy toward his destination. Calculating the high desert cross winds, he made a last-minute correction which allowed him to plant his right foot cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma firmly onto the center of the large, white cross target. As his left foot touched down, he leaned back, encouraging his chute to take the rest of the breeze cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma until it collapsed and fell impotent to the sand. Instantly, the tall man began to gather the yards of thin cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma ripstop nylon and cord into his arms, beating down any last show of resistance from the exuberant cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma ram-air parachute.
What Woodard remembered was what a closeted bastard the guy cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma had been and how he’d used the knowledge of Eagle’s own closeted sexuality against him. Threatening to report him and risking dishonorable discharge at best…, or death if members of their team found out. He didn’t mourn Dean Kessler’s passing when he got word that some insurgents finished cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma him. “Captain said you were with the FBI?”
Pocketing his phone, Eagle gathered his parachute from the ground and slowly made cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma his way to his truck. Stowing the chute away, he unzipped his jumpsuit the rest of the way. Dragging it down off his shoulders, he revealed a tan-colored work shirt and jeans. He pushed the loose-fitting black nylon from around his narrow waist. Wrestling the last couple of inches of fabric over his cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma shoes, Eagle jerked the material free and tossed it behind the cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma driver’s seat completing his impromptu striptease. He looked up toward the sun before glancing at his cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma watch.
I found inspiration in innumerable odd jobs (from migrant work as a Date palm pollinator to the cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma person who cleans the washing machines at the launderette to cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma professional Dominatrix) for stories. After a stint in Rehab for Alcohol and Heroin abuse cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma (so when I write those scenes, I know what I’m talking about), I cleaned up and have stayed that way for 29 cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma years. (Me and Sir Elton, LOL). My gypsy lifestyle gave me a unique perspective on the cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma different people who inhabited the Washington, Oregon, Arizona, California, and New Mexico areas where I have lived.
After 3 very bad marriages to men, I finally figured out what was wrong and fell in cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma love with a woman when I lived in Portland, OR 23 years ago. We’ve been married since 2008 (yes, it was legal in California at that time). We now live in Asheville, NC and love the people in this liberal and accepting cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma corner of the mountains of North Carolina.
I drive straight home and park in my usual spot cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma next to Dad’s BMW. Mom’s Prius is parked closer to the house. I climb out, but instead of hurrying inside, I stand still for a minute. I’m not alone. Someone is watching me. I can’t see anything in the pitch black surrounding me, but I know it, sense it. Tiny pinpricks are piercing my skin. The clammy feeling is all over me again. I’m burning up. I stagger inside and stumble through the kitchen. I need to get to my bedroom and my bed. If I lie down, I’ll feel better.
My mom lays her hand on me. I pull my arm away. Her touch is soft but still painful on my burning cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma skin. “It’s happening, Tom. Dear lord, it’s happening to Ascha. I thought it was too late, that it had passed him by. What should we do?” Her voice is laced with worry, and tears fill her eyes. I wobble past them and make it to my bedroom, where I tear my clothes off. My T-shirt weighs too much on my skin, and I rip it from my chest. My jeans are next. They are too thick, too coarse, hurting me. Then another wave of pain overwhelms me. The pressure on my chest is like a branding iron, stamping marks on my skin, so hot, so deep, but it’s coming from inside me.
That is, his holiday-obsessed boyfriend Nick is wearing nothing but a Santa hat cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma and wants to know what Casey wants for Christmas. There is one thing, but it’s something Casey’s been holding back on. Melting candle wax stirs a burning desire in him. All he wants for Christmas is to experience the hot cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma drip on his body…if he can find the courage to finally ask for cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma it. All the sugar cookie-scented candles are making it hard to resist adding a cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma kinky request to his wish list of gifts from his cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma sexy St. Nick.
What happens aloud is a sound that’s some approximation of an affirmative that half-lodges in Casey’s throat. He sucks his lips between his teeth, eyes trained on Nick’s wrist. They’ve barely started and already his chest is expanding, pulse thrumming beneath his skin in anticipation. Casey swallows thickly and resists the urge to shift on cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma his knees, keeping still under Nick’s gaze.
Mara Townsend is a bisexual indie author of LGBTQ+ romances. She loves to explore intimate relationship development of the feels-inducing variety to invoke the eternal just kiss plea from cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma the reader, as well as crafting strong platonic friendships with heaps of cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma heart and soul. Her stories showcase diverse representation, love stories with realistic emotions—never mindless fluff, a healthy dose of humor, and a side helping of her favorite tropes.
She hangs out in fan communities online and learned how cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma to write the kind of stories that she’s passionate about through experimental character-driven fiction based in her favorite worlds. When not writing, she can be found soaking up sunshine at the beach, traveling the world to fill in her passport, perpetually collecting plants, and reading as many fake-dating romance books as she can find.
I like stories set in small towns with a strong cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma sense of family, and this one has both of those. Kutter’s Summit felt very real, and a character in its own right, with its quirks driving some of the storyline, especially with the weather and isolation. I thought the descriptions were very visual and I had cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma a clear picture of each scene in my mind. I liked Bryan’s relationship with his sister, Deb. His PA Betty totally rocks, and his cat Aesop deserves a mention. As a side note, I love that name for a cat.
I felt for both men, and I thought their different relationship with Bryan’s grandfather was well written. I liked how, although Bryan’s memories of him are soured, he didn’t just come across as a stereotypical homophobe but a cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma man who realised he’d made mistakes. I liked how both Bryan and Parson were damaged in cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma their own way, and how, although Parson had PTSD, it’s not just him who needs Bryan to start to cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma make a future for himself, but that they need each other as Bryan’s overwork and stressful lonely lifestyle is slowly killing him. I thought Parson’s PTSD was written well, and realistically, especially its long term effects.
“I hoped I’d never see him again.” Words that were being echoed three hundred miles away in cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma London. Nick Seabrooke stood at the window of his flat and cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma stared across rooftops to the dome of St Paul’s. He re-read Phil’s message. It was terse and to the point: Considered what you said. Will do it. Feel free to set a meeting up. Was it the answer he’d wanted? Yes, from one point of view. No, definitely not, from another.
He’d hardly believed what he’d heard the previous Monday. Nick was a detective with the NCA, the agency responsible for criminal investigations that went beyond national cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma borders. Money-laundering involving forgery was his normal remit. He’d met the quad when Raith had been chief suspect cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma in a case and he had been a sergeant. Now he was an inspector. So, he’d answered the chief superintendent’s call, expecting to be briefed about a fraud or a forgery. Instead, he was told about organ trafficking. But although trade in body parts was a crime that cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma cut across borders, it seemed well outside his area of expertise. He’d tried to tell the chief so. Yes, the chief knew that, but whoever had requested Nick’s involvement knew that he had liaised, successfully, with Tees, Tyne and Wear Constabulary the year before and, more importantly, knew that he’d worked closely with a surgeon at the hospital at cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma the centre of the enquiry.
“I very much doubt it, sir,” Nick had answered promptly. “I think he’d feel that it was beneath his ability and beneath cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma his dignity. He’s totally focused on his own niche. He developed this graphene-based colorectal repair procedure almost single-handedly. He pioneered the research. He carries out most of the ops. I can’t see him whipping out a kidney or cornea when cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma no one’s looking. And he’s conscientious. The ethics would bother him.”
………….. Mike had fascinated him, but he realised that he’d rarely even thought of County Durham, or Tunhead—or Mike—for weeks. He was over his crush or whatever it was. So it hadn’t been love. Couldn’t have been love. So, really, he should be able to bin the photo. It shouldn’t be a problem, should it? There was no good reason to keep it, was there? But, although he could resist opening the file, he couldn’t bring himself to press Delete . Couldn’t bring himself to execute that oh-so-final break-with-everything action. So, what did his reluctance, his cowardice , mean? Well, soon he’d have more than a photo in front of him. He’d have flesh and blood. It wouldn’t be so easy to avoid looking at the real cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma thing. He wouldn’t be able to press a key and—abracadabra—delete Mike.
The plots are always stimulated by something on the news cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma – in this instance, reading that, in 2020, organ donation will become the default position where I live cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma and, also, reading that enforced organ harvesting is carried out in some cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma countries. I enjoy writing funny dialogue as well as dealing with cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma serious issues, though, and I hope that some of the quad’s interchanges will make readers smile. And regarding the extract, I didn’t know the meaning of ‘proctology’ when I saw the word in a review of Book cutaneous fibrous histiocytoma 3! (The term ‘colorectal’ is more common in the UK.) I couldn’t resist including a reference to it.
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