All posts by J.M. Snyder

Boys in Heat

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 200 pages

BLURB: This incendiary collection contains a wide range of erotic short stories that burns up the pages with unabashed, uninhibited sex between men. Here two young guys' internet hookup leads to an exhibitionist encounter at a local shopping mall; a boy on the verge of manhood loses his gay cherry to the handyman of a local brothel; a college-bound boy raised by strict Christian parents comes out in the arms of his older brother's best surfer buddy; and two sexual dynamos have their way with a willing military man. These stories will definitely make you sweat. Edited by Richard Labonte.

Contains my story, Hooking Up. Brandon met Damien online. Now he's ready to take their relationship onto a more physical level, and agrees to meet for real. But the online chemistry they share is nothing compared to the sparks that fly when they finally hook up.

E-BOOK ISBN: 9781573444583 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Hooking Up:

At the last possible second, Damien turns the wheel and eases to a stop at the curb in front of me. Then he cuts the engine and steps out before I can push away from the wall. With quick strides he comes at me, a commanding look in his eyes that makes my dick take notice. I'm just about to say something stupid like, "Hey Damien," when he steps up beside me and leans against my arm. The chill of air-conditioning lingers around him, making him seem impossibly cool on such a hot day, but when he touches my bare midriff with black-tipped fingers, my flesh burns beneath his. He's a few inches taller than me and glowers as if trying to tattoo me onto his brain. When I start to speak, he covers my lips with his in a silencing kiss.

For one breathless moment, his tongue enters me. I lean back against the warm brick, not caring who sees us here outside the mall, with his hand on my stomach, one finger tracing my navel, as he licks inside my mouth. He fills my senses and tastes like cherry lollipops, his scent a mixture of patchouli musk and the sweet sting of pot. He weakens me. I fumble at his waist, finding one of the belt loops on his black jeans, then rub my hand up under his black tank top and over taut skin to finger one erect nipple, hard as a nugget of gold in my palm. In public! my mind screams, thrilled. The hand on my stomach slips lower, sneaks beneath the waistline of my jeans, his thumb still circling my navel as he kisses me again and again. I sigh when he pulls away, and gasp each time he delves, hungrily, deeper into me.

Then he straightens, his hand now tugging on the zipper of my jeans as he stands back. I can't seem to catch my breath and I pray that he doesn't ruin this with some flippant remark like the ones he tends to make online, when he thinks I'm getting too serious about things. About us. "Brandon," he murmurs in a raspy, smoked-out voice that I feel in the back of my throat. There's a teasing glint in his eyes that makes me anxious. "You sexy thang."

I laugh, trying to break this tension, but it doesn't work and I have to avert my gaze from his. "Damien," I say, because I can't think of anything else. He's so damn intense. Somehow the webcam photos failed to capture that.

Rainbow Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"The better stories are towards the beginning with a few gems scattered throughout. A decent compilation."

Best Gay Romance 2009

GENRE: Contemporary, Romance
LENGTH: 220 pages

BLURB: Best Gay Romance 2009 is short fiction at its finest on the subject of love -- first love, true love, and love everlasting (with makeup sex, wake-up sex, and everything in between). The romantic possibilities range from a surprising encounter between two blue-collar buddies to a brief airport rendezvous that become something more, and a reminder to us all that it is never too late for love. A self-confessed true romantic, Richard Labonte has gathered a sensational collection of stories about finding love at home, at work, at any age, and often, in the most unexpected places.

Contains my story, Afflicted. It's hard to understand why some people feel the need to hurt themselves, especially when they seem to have everything they need or want out of life. So how do you help someone bent on a path of self-destruction?

E-BOOK ISBN: 9781573444446 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Afflicted:

The first time I saw him naked, I noticed the cuts.

Red, angry scrapes across the pouch of his lower belly, like scratches or claw-marks. "What's this?" I asked, running a finger over one bumpy scab.

He sucked in his gut to pull out of reach. "Nothing." His voice turned sullen, pouting, and the erection that jutted from his thick crop of black curls seemed to wilt a little. "I thought we were going to --"

"Did you do this?" I asked, interrupting him. The cuts bothered me; they spoke of a pain I didn't know how to deal with, and that scared me. He scared me. I thought I'd known him.

When he didn't reply, I looked up from the cuts and saw the answer in his eyes. Sad, dark eyes, downcast, like the sky before a storm. He couldn't seem to meet my gaze, as if the cuts embarrassed him, or he was ashamed of his own weakness. "Where else do you this?" I asked.

Still no answer, but his arms moved behind his nude hips as if hiding from my view and I snatched his right elbow to see for myself. In the low lamplight of my bedroom, I could see very faint traces across his skin, a network of healed flesh. With a hard tug, I pulled him over to my bedside table and turned the lamp up higher, held his arm beneath it. "Please," he said, trembling when my fingers trailed over the scarred flesh. "It's nothing, okay? Those are so old."

Holding his arm aside, I pointed at his stomach. "These aren't."

His hand covered the fresh marks as if he could smooth them away, but he didn't say anything and I knew I was right. Sinking down to sit on my bed, I guided him into the span between my legs and wrapped my arms around his thighs. Ignoring the hard dick pointing at me, I pressed my face to his belly and kissed the highest cut, just below his navel. His hands cradled my head, fingers delving in my hair, and I waited for him to sigh my name before I admonished, "This doesn't happen again."

EDGE New England:
"Loves found, loves lost, lives savored in bitter-sweet twilight or intertwined with the help of some fine cooking and artful sex: for the gay romantic, [this book] has the goods, and some fine writing, too." 
Joyfully Reviewed:
"[In Afflicted] Snyder drives home the difficulties of trying to help someone whose problem you just don’t understand without sugarcoating the issue or pasting on a too-perfect ending." 
Rainbow Reviews: 4.5 out of 5.
"[In Afflicted] the sensual images of the two young men and the heartbreaking emotions depicted create a great story yet leave the reader wanting more. Be sure to pick up this short offering if you haven’t read it and if you have, read it again." 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"[Afflicted is] a very short story, but you have to read it, it's heartbreaking." 
Reader Review by LouisaClark:
"[Afflicted is] a story that tackles this subject, you wouldn't expect to be romantic and heartwarming -- but it is." 
SX News:
"You have to have balls to claim anything is best but Labonte can lay claim to that title better than most. His Romance anthology is a great read ... 'Afflicted' by J.M. Snyder uses love as redemption for a young man who obsessively cuts himself."

Best Gay Romance 2008

GENRE: Contemporary, Romance
LENGTH: 240 pages

BLURB: The most seductive stories of love between men, this collection shows that however romance happens, however long love lasts -- a heartbeat or a lifetime -- erotic love between men is a wondrous thing. Edited by Richard Labonte.

Contains my story, Henry and Jim. Henry and Jim have spent a lifetime together. Old men now, Henry reminisces about the love they've shared as he learns to cope with Jim's fading memory and his own fear of being forgotten.


From Henry and Jim:

Two seats, a dime apiece, and Jim chose one of the last rows in the back of the theater, away from the shrieking kids that threw popcorn and candy at the screen. He waited until I sat down, then plopped into the seat beside mine, his arm draped casually over the armrest and half in my lap. "Do you bring Betty here?" I asked, shifting away from him. Better to bring my sister up like a shield between us in the drowsy heat and close darkness of the theater to remind me why I was there. Betty trusted me with her latest beau, even if I didn't trust myself.

Jim shrugged, uninterested. As the lights dimmed and the film began, he crossed his legs, then slid down a bit in the seat, let his legs spread apart until the ankle rested on his knee. His leg shook with nervous energy, jostling the seat in front of him and moving at the edges of my vision, an annoying habit, distracting, and when I couldn't stand it any longer, I put my hand on his knee to stop it. As if he had been waiting for me to make the first move, Jim snatched my hand in both of his, threaded his fingers through mine, and pulled my arm into his lap. "Jim," I whispered with a slight tug, but he didn't seem to hear me and didn't release my hand. I tried again -- he just held on tighter, refused to acknowledge that I wanted him to let go. Leaning closer so I wouldn't have to raise my voice, I tried again. "Jim --"

He turned and mashed his lips against mine in a damp, feverish kiss. I shouldn't -- my mind started, then I can't, then Betty. Then his tongue licked into me, softer than I had imagined and so much sweeter than a man had the right to be, and I stopped thinking altogether. I was a whirl of sensation and every touch, every breath, every part of my world was replaced with Jim. Betty isn't getting him back; that was my last coherent thought before I stopped fighting him and gave in.

Later that evening, my sister was waiting when I got home. "Well?" she wanted to know.

I shrugged to avoid meeting her steady gaze. "Do you really think he's right for you?"

"Me?" she asked with a laugh. "Not at all. But Henry, isn't he just perfect for you?"

Boyz Magazine:
"Some of the tales, such as J.M. Snyder's exploration of love and memory, are wonderfully emotive and you may well find yourself shedding the odd tear over a number of tenderly calibrated moments." 
Fallen Angel Reviews: 5 out of 5, Recommended Read.
"Thanks ... for this incredible story. It is one that I will cherish." 
Gazette Tampa Bay Magazine (April 2008 issue).
"What's marvelous about ["Henry and Jim"] and other of the more marvelous stories in the collection is that the reminder is there, wrapped around carefully-composed prose, that romance ... survives and flourishes." 
Obsidian Bookshelf:
"A beautifully written short story that shows that a marriage isn't necessarily defined by the gender of the participants. These two men have had a long and loving marriage that has been more successful than most marriages." 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"A very beautiful anthology, highly reccomended." 
Review by LouisaClark:
"Whether the stories warm your heart or warm your body, they all deliver a very satisfying romantic read ... [in "Henry and Jim"] We watch as they build a life together, as they grow old together. Beautiful and uplifting. Five Stars." 
Romance at Heart:
"A story of love, hope, trials, togetherness, and acceptance ... a must read for all who enjoy a good, well written but short gay romance."

Best Gay Love Stories: Summer Flings

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 272 pages

BLURB: Everyone loves to fall in love, and there's no better time than summer. From beachfront bunking to cruising the ocean's waves, this year's edition of gay love stories explores the electric connection between men and men and the sultry sun that melts their hearts. Edited by Brad Nichols.

Contains my story, Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams. When Sean sees Andrew enter the ice cream shop he works at, he falls in love. Unfortunately, Andrew already seems to have a girlfriend. But then she comes back the next day to give Sean Andrew's number ... what's up with that?

PRINT ISBN: 9781593500375 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams:

His name is Andrew. He looks at me dead on, then clears his throat and shrugs. "Something warm and sweet," he says, his gaze burning into me. "With lots of cream." He turns to Chad. "You have anything like that?"


Chad frowns at the menu. "Well ..."

If he tells them about the hot fudge sundaes, I'll just die. Warm and sweet, lots of cream. And he's already got a girl? Damn.

"How about a hot fudge sundae? Perfect way to end a perfect day, don't you think?"

I roll my eyes. Of course, I have to work for Mr. Comedian. Andrew stands there smiling because he knows he wasn't talking about the sundaes, and he knows I know he wasn't talking about ice cream ... hell, from the smirk on her face even his girl knows what he's talking about, and if I wasn't already hiding in the corner behind the soda fountain, I'd sink into the floor and just disappear.

My knees are weak from that pale gaze, that deep voice, and any moment now I could melt away like chocolate. I imagine myself as chocolate beneath his hands, melting into his touch, moaning his name, his lips like cherries on my skin, his tongue a swirl of sensation across my body. Tony's as oblivious as Chad. "Fudge sounds good."

Andrew shrugs as I shake ice from my drink into my mouth. "Maybe I'll go for something hard," he says. The ice cracks loudly between my teeth when I bite down on it.

Tony frowns. "You want something warm and hard?"

Damn it to hell, I'm blushing, I know it, flushed and red-I'm not prepared for this. Any other night I'd flirt back; it's summer and there are a million guys on the boardwalk, but this one makes me ache as if I'm waking from a good dream, one I don't want to lose in the daylight. If he didn't have a girl with him, if the Romano kid wasn't here, if Chad wasn't here, maybe I'd flirt back. If I could even look at him and remember how to speak.

Alternative Read:
"I found [Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams] to be an intriguing story of a beginning. A beginning to take the time to like, learn, know each other without rushing." 
Fallen Angel Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"Snyder has fashioned a, at times, humorous and tantalizing story about two guys who, if fate takes a hand, could find a love fulfilling to both of them. Sean doesn’t see much value in himself, but Andrew looks beyond his exterior to the beauty inside ... I would love to read more about the lives of Sean and Andrew to see if they go beyond just a summer fling to a future together." 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"If you want to take a break from all the iper sexy M/M story I have read lately, try this tale by J.M. Snyder: maybe for the first time in months I have read something I will have no problem to reccomend also to a underage reader." 
Review by Frost: 5 out of 5.
"Caution to readers: [Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams] will frizz your hair, curl your toes, and set your skin afire. Yes, folks, and that is without explicit eroticism ... totally scorching." 
Two Lips Reviews: 5 out of 5, with a "heat level" of 0 out of 3.
"[Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams is] a perfect little read which showcases this author's great talent. This is not an erotic read; rather, it describes the tentative start of a relationship that could be the life changing for the characters. I like the way Sean and Andrew connect from the very first page and the subtle teasing and flirting between them is very well executed. Definitely a sweet read that one would be crazy to miss."

Best Gay Bondage Erotica

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 215 pages

BLURB: Intricately secured by ropes, locked in handcuffs, or bound simply by a lover's command, these dangerously explicit stories of restraint will grab you, tie you down, and never let you go. From professionals letting loose their inhibitions on an office retreat to a garden full of earthy 'bound' delights, this cornucopia of kink shows men put in their place and then held there firmly. Edited by Richard Labonte.

Contains my story, Mastering Stefan. Stefan meets the man of his dreams at a local gay bar's fetish night, but can he pass Master's test and prove himself worthy of such a man?

E-BOOK ISBN: 9781573444415 | BUY IT NOW:
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PRINT ISBN: 9781573443166 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Mastering Stefan:

"If I drop by this evening," Master clarifies, "what'll you have on? Better yet, what will I have to take off to get to that sweet candy ass of yours?"

"I'm ... I --" Stefan stutters, searching for something to say. What on earth will he wear? Anything Master wants, anything at all. Did he honestly say he's coming over tonight? Oh God. Lamely, he whispers, "I don't know."

"Shit." For a moment Stefan thinks he's angry at him, but before he can stumble through an apology Master says, "What's your fetish? Leather, Saran Wrap, what?"

Stefan mumbles, "Latex." He likes the smooth feel of the thin plastic -- wet, slick and molded to his body, or hot against his sweaty skin, unyielding as he strains against it. He likes wetsuits and galoshes and latex gloves that snap into place, the way they feel rubbing along his flesh, the way they smell pressed to his nose. Once he masturbated in the dressing room of a department store while wearing nothing but a raincoat so new, it squeaked every time he moved. Scuba magazines are porn to him -- pictures of men in form-fitting suits that he imagines ripping apart to get at the tender meat inside. He dreams of running in the rain wearing nothing but a slicker, a cold rush of air breezing against his balls as someone unseen chases him. It's a familiar dream, one he's had since middle school, and though he's never been caught, he knows that whoever hunts him down wants to pin him down and fuck him right there in the mud and the rain. He can almost picture the slicker rucked up over his ass and knows just what the rain would feel like running down his pale skin. Whenever he has that dream he wakes up so hard, it only takes one or two good jerks to get him off.

In his ear, Master murmurs, "Latex." The word sounds like a promise in his voice. Before Stefan can reply, Master continues, "This is what I want. You'll be home by what, six?"

"Yes," Stefan says. His voice cracks and he clears his throat to try again. "Six, yes, I'll be there."

"Leave your door unlocked," Master commands, "and put on something -- you have a full body suit, right?"

Stefan has two, both black latex. One has zippers strategically placed for easy access, which he has yet to put to use. The other has seen more wear -- he's modified it himself, adding a rubber cock sheath that juts from the front like a handle and a tiny ball sewn into the butt to press between his buttocks. That's his solo suit, the one he puts on when it's just him and his hand, and unfortunately that's all too often. He likes to put it on and sit in the bathtub, the shower pounding down around him as he massages his cock through the sheath and grinds his hips back against the spigot to work that little ball around and around his asshole. "I have things to wear," he admits.

"Get dressed, then," Master tells him, "with me in mind. This is the important part now -- you can't get off before I get there, you hear me? Sit on your hands if you have to but keep them out of your ass and away from your cock. You understand?"

"Yes," Stefan breathes. "Yes sir."

"What's my card say?" Master prompts.

Stefan raises the business card to his nose and can still smell his own spunk lingering on the paper. "Yes, Master."

Joyfully Reviewed:
"J.M. Snyder shows her writing versatility with the hardcore sex and likeability of the characters in Mastering Stefan." 
Obsidian Bookshelf:
"I'm a grudging reader at best of BDSM fiction because of the issues surrounding power imbalance. If both partners aren't clearly enjoying their encounter, I'm going to find it hard to read. Fortunately, the author does a terrific job with Stefan and Master." 
Rainbow Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"Equally emotionally intense is J.M. Snyder’s Mastering Stefan. No story in the anthology gets across the vulnerability, sense of exposure, or desire to be conquered that hallmark bondage and domination better than this very hot tale of a bottom yearning for a worthy master. This was one of the few stories I wished was much longer." 
San Diego Erotica Books Examiner: 4 out of 5.
"If you’re into kink, bdsm, and a little male bonding then this story is for you." 
Sensual Erotic Romance & Erotica: 4 out of 5.
"If BDSM is your game then Mastering Stefan is your book. J.M. Snyder has penned a compelling tale of submitting and of desire."

Country Boys

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 220 pages

BLURB: Country boys are a special breed. Something about that wild terrain brings out the best -- and the sexiest -- in a man. Edited by Richard Labonte.

Contains my story, Opening Day at the County Fair. The only thing Jesse hates more than waking up at the crack of dawn is spending six boring days selling his family's produce and watching his younger sister at the annual County Fair. But this year, there's a new contractor setting up booths for the vendors, and Jesse can't wait for Davis to wander his way.

E-BOOK ISBN: 9781573444613 | BUY IT NOW:
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PRINT ISBN: 9781573442688 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Opening Day at the County Fair:

I inch the truck along the main thoroughfare, one foot on the brake pedal as we crawl along behind other trucks between lines of vendors setting up their booths. There's a tractor somewhere up ahead, I hear the ragged engine churn in the rising heat, and people dart across the strip, dodging between the trucks as they chase after children or livestock that have managed to get away. Twice I hit the steering wheel in frustration but I don't bother to use the horn -- wouldn't do any good. Instead I glare out the window at anyone who dares to meet my gaze and egg the truck on in little jolts that make Jolene tap angrily against the cab's back window. I've been up for hours and haven't even eaten yet, it's getting hot already, the stench of livestock permeates the air, I'm in a sour mood, and I'm thinking that next year there's no way I'm doing this shit again -- when for the first time in ages I see someone I don't know.

He's a young man, about my age, shirt off to expose pale skin that hasn't seen the sun all summer and a back that glistens with sweat as he hammers a couple of two by fours into a booth. Light hair the color of bailed hay falls to his shoulders, and I stare at his slender frame, memorizing the flex of thin muscles across narrow shoulder blades. It's Mrs. Colton's booth he's working on -- she stands to one side with her hands on her ample hips, cans of preserves around her feet. When she sees me looking, she calls out, "Y'all come by for some of my jelly, you hear? I got something new you'll want to try."

"So I see," I reply. That earns me a smirk from the stranger. Encouraged, I add, "What's his name?"

Mrs. Colton doesn't get my drift, thank God. "This here's Ruddy Johnson's boy. Davis?" Instead of a sideways glance this time he turns to look at me, eyebrows arched and thin lips twisted in a sardonic grin. "Jesse Sadler, his sister Jolene. My, that Missy has some size to her."

Davis. His eyes challenge me to turn away but I can't, I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame and I imagine lying beneath him, pinned into submission under that steady gaze. In my mind I can see just how dusky my skin would look alongside his white flesh; I can taste his sweat, smell his scent, almost feel how firm his body would be against my hands. As I stare, he gives me a quick wink that makes my dick go from mildly interested to "Hello!" in one heartbeat. I'm so caught up in him that I don't even realize the traffic has stopped moving until I bump into the truck in front of us. Jolene pounds on the glass behind me hard enough to rattle it in my ear.

"Sorry!" I holler, cringing at the look the driver ahead gives me in his side-view mirror. God. Davis laughs, the sound boyish and so bright that it makes me want to sink down into my seat and die of embarrassment. As the line of trucks starts to move forward, I duck my head and hide the side of my face behind my hand so I won't be tempted to look his way again.

When we reach the pigsty, Jolene jumps down from the bed of the truck and wants to know, "What'd you run up on Bubba's bumper for?"

"You're only eleven," I tell her. "You wouldn't understand."

"I'm twelve," she counters. "I know more than you think." I shrug her comment off, but she warns, "And you best hope Pa don't see you making eyes at any boys."

All right, so maybe she is a bit more perceptive than I thought.

Alternative Read:
"Sometimes chance gives a person exactly what they've been looking for. I found [Opening Day at the County Fair to be] a read with romance, humor and steamy sex. Good reading and great fun." 
Fallen Angel Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"[In Opening Day at the County Fair] Davis and Jesse seem to have an immediate connection that goes beyond the physical. Their first time together is like putting a spark to gasoline, very combustible." 
Joyfully Reviewed:
"The time Jesse and Davis spend in each other's arms is incredibly hot. This is definitely one of my favorite J.M. Snyder stories!" 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"I like [Opening Day at the County Fair]. It's less then 30 pages but J.M. Snyder has decipted a complete world in few words." 
Review by Frost: 4 out of 5.
"Reader be warned: [Opening Day at the County Fair] is HOT! Detailed, graphic, exciting, m/m sexuality plus romance! Keep your ice bucket filled up and near to hand." 
Two Lips Reviews: 5 out of 5, with a "heat level" of 1 out of 3.
"Jesse's youthful passion for Davis plays out in a fantastic scene that stirred me. Through the author's words I could feel first his boredom and then the arousal Davis causes. [Opening Day at the County Fair] is a must read story that will more than satisfy readers. I highly recommend it."

Eight Box Set

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 58,157 words | 228 pages

BLURB: Eight gay erotic short stories of lust and love, these tales are sizzling off the press! Here you'll find an unlikely couple stealing a quick tryst between sets at a drag show, college boyfriends spending a long weekend together on campus, a young man with a forbidden crush on his best friend's father, flamboyant neighbors, horny lovers, college room- mates, and a petulant submissive with a latex fetish.

Check out these stories and take a wild romp through the wicked pages of some of J.M. Snyder's hottest, best-selling gay erotic fiction, collected together into one print volume for the first time in Eight! Contains the stories: Before the Show: A college student by day, drag queen by night, Devin Elliot loves his job. He likes to watch himself get ready, primping in the mirror, his masculinity slowly peeled away and replaced with feminine silk and lace. As he's getting ready for his stage show, a knock on the door interrupts him. With the clock counting down to showtime, can Devin and Chuck manage to snag some time alone before the show?

Fuck the Foreplay: Tory's a freshman in college who can't stand being away from his boyfriend Jon for long. When his roommate decides to head home for the weekend, Tory invites Jon to stay at the dorm. The moment Jon arrives, Tory can't wait to get their romantic get-together underway.

Mastering Stefan: Stefan has a latex fetish. When he meets the man of his dreams at a local gay bar, can he prove himself worthy of Master’s affection?

Money's Worth: Carl has always harbored feelings for his outrageous roommate, Ritchie, but he's too shy to do anything about it. When a stranger outside a club offers Ritchie a blowjob for ten bucks, he doesn’t have the cash, and Carl isn't paying someone else to suck off the guy he likes. If Ritchie wants a blowjob, why doesn't he just ask Carl?

My Best Friend's Dad: I had the worst crush on Mikey Pierce's dad. The week before leaving for college, I stayed at Mikey's while Mr. Pierce and his buddies gambled. When I snuck downstairs for beers, the card game was over and I thought all the visitors had left. But Mr. Pierce wasn't alone in the dining room. The man with him owed a couple hundred bucks from playing cards, and I had a ring-side seat as he paid up.

On the Down Low: Nick's the only white guy at his roommate Tyrone's hip hop party, but Tyrone's friend De'Andre is the center of attention. The moment Nick notices him, he gets sprung. De'Andre is big and black and hot damn, but he's sexy. Nick feels out of his league -- he's young, white, gay, and desperately looking for a chance to spend some time alone with De'Andre. Luckily De'Andre seems just as interested.

Take It Outside: It's close to midnight, New Year's Eve, and Matt is tired of watching Vic mingle at Roxie's party. After several beers, Matt wants a piece of his lover, and he wants it now. And we all know Matt gets what he wants. NOTE: You don't have to read any other Vic and Matt story to understand what happens in this one!

Windows: Thom is down on love, having walked in on his lover with a friend and caught them doing the nasty. After he kicks said lover out, he writes off men for good. Then Bradley moves in next door and Thom can’t help but notice. Suddenly Thom finds himself in the position of voyeur and knows Bradley knows he’s watching. He doesn’t need another lover, but how long can he resist Bradley's advances?

NOTE: These stories are available in the Guilty Pleasures Box Set.

PRINT ISBN: 9781451584851 | BUY IT NOW:
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From Windows:

Because the light's on next door, I can see boxes stacked up in the center of the room, headboards propped against the wall, a mattress tossed carelessly onto the floor beneath the window. Every now and then Rudy comes into view, stepping onto the mattress and then out of sight again as he starts to unpack. I wonder if this will be their bedroom. I wonder why I care.

It doesn't take me long to get the rest of the paint off the window and just as I'm about to move onto the next one, I hear Bradley's voice drift up from the other house. He's so loud. "Rudy, darling," he says, and then he laughs, that magical sound that's begun to bring a smile to my lips whenever I hear it. I've decided I quite like that laugh. "You know that's not where I want that dresser to go."

Rudy says something indistinct and then Bradley laughs again. Against my better judgment, I pull the sheer curtains in front of the window and peek out between them. Down in the room below, Bradley steps up onto the mattress, tanned legs and thick arms and the broad expanse of his back just begging to be touched. By me, I think as Rudy comes up to him, rubs his hands down the bunched muscles in Bradley's arms. I don't need to be watching this.

But I can't turn away. I remind myself of the other window, the dishes in my sink, my bed, things I can be doing, should be doing, but I can't seem to turn away from the window. Rudy leans close to Bradley, whispers something that makes him giggle, and then starts to knead his lover's arms, his shoulders, his neck. "I think he's kind of cute," Bradley says in reply.

My breath catches in my throat. They're not -- God, I wish I could hear whatever it is Rudy says that makes Bradley turn around and glance at my house, up at me. They see me, I think wildly, and without thinking I cross the room and hit the switch to cut off the overhead light. My heart beats like a drum in the darkness, hard enough to bruise my ribs, they saw me. Saw me watching, and Bradley said what? I think he's kind of cute. Jesus Christ.

Go to bed now, Thom, my mind whispers even as I start towards the window again. They've got names for guys like you, watching your neighbors through the curtains. You want this kid to call the cops on your perverted ass? Just go to bed and forget all about him and his tight skin and his infectious laugh.

Only I can't, and this time I stand to one side of the curtain, out of sight. I pull the edge of the fabric away from the window just enough so I can see, and I promise myself one more look, that's it, just to see if they're still talking about me and then I'll go. I swear --

Bradley stands at the window now, hands on the sill in front of him, legs spread wide, head thrown back. Behind him, Rudy has his jeans down to his knees, his boxers open, working his dick hard with one hand. The other is in the front of Bradley's shorts, squeezing, stroking, I can feel that hand, it tugs at my own erection, rolls my own balls in the palm, fondles me. My own hand strays below my belt, rubs against the thick swelling at my crotch. I'm not seeing this, I think. I'm not watching it. I'm not.

Rudy's dick stands up from a dark swirl of hair, angry and red. He pulls Bradley's shorts down in the back, exposing a tight ass. No tan lines, I think absently. How cute.

Suddenly Rudy disappears. "Come on, Rudy," Bradley moans, grabbing at the front of his shorts. "Please. I need it."

I ache at that voice, that plea. Another few seconds and I'll rush over there myself, take him in my arms and thrust into him, I'm hard enough already. But Rudy returns, his erection glistening from a lubricated condom, and he swats Bradley's hand away as it kneads the thick shaft that tents his shorts. "Rudy," Bradley starts, and that's as far as he gets before Rudy shoves into him, his hands finding their way into the front of Bradley's shorts again.

Bradley's eyes slip closed, his lips part, his cheeks go slack and what I wouldn't give to have him lean back into me like that, to moan my name instead of Rudy's, to cry out yes, please, harder, God YES for me. Even from this distance, I can hear the steady uh uh uh as he meets Rudy thrust for thrust, and each moan makes me tremble, each gasp makes me throb. "Rudy," he sighs, arching back against his lover, bucking into him, harder, faster, setting a furious rhythm that ends with Rudy collapsing against Bradley's back and the front of Bradley's shorts growing damp.

I sink to the floor, my knees to my chest, my pants viselike around my own raging erection. I can hear Bradley giggle, breathless, and then Rudy says something I can't quite catch. I'm sure it's about me, they know I'm here, they did that just for me.

Don't be silly, that voice in my mind tells me. They're lovers. First night in a new house, worked up a sweat all day, of course they were looking for release.

In the window. After they saw me watching them. Yeah, right.

Before the Show

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica, Transgender
LENGTH: 2,790 words
This story is included in the anthology, Eight

BLURB: A college student by day, drag queen by night, Devin Elliot loves his job. He likes to watch himself get ready, primping in the mirror, his masculinity slowly peeled away and replaced with feminine silk and lace.

But as he's getting ready for his stage show, a knock on the door interrupts him. Chuck works as a bouncer at the club where Devin performs, and he has it bad for the hot drag queen. Nothing turns him on more than watching his boyfriend become Devine.

With the clock counting down to showtime, can Devin and Chuck manage to snag some time alone before the show?

Note: Contains the follow-up flash fiction piece, After the Show.


The doorknob rattles, locked. "Just a minute." Clicking off the curling rod as he stands, he strides to the door and flings it open, sure it's one of the other girls looking to bum his hairspray or eyeshadow. Those bitches ... "What is it now?"

Chuck stands in front of him, the bouncer's bulk filling the doorway. "Am I bothering you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and deep.

Devin takes a step back. "No, I ..." Reaching out, he taps his finger against Chuck's belt buckle. "Didn't realize it was you."

With quick reflexes, Chuck grabs Devin's wrist to keep him close. "Expecting someone else?" When Devin doesn't answer, Chuck tells him, "Invite me in."

"I'm getting ready," Devin protests, but it's half-hearted and he stands aside as Chuck shoulders into the room. With the door shut, the dressing room seems to shrink, contracting around them until the walls seem crowd around Chuck's large girth. Devin touches the bouncer's back, his hands flat against the warm leather vest Chuck wears, and he catches a glimpse of the both of them in the mirror -- Chuck fills most of the reflecting glass but behind him, Devin's skirt and a bit of leg flash out, his poufy hair, his bare arm. Pressing the padded bra against Chuck's back, Devin lets his hands smooth over the bouncer's shoulders, down arms whorled with tattoos and hair. "I thought I said after the show."

Chuck turns and falls into the loveseat. The cushions exhale beneath his weight with an exasperated sigh. "You've got some time now," he points out, catching Devin's hands in his own.

"I've got thirty minutes," Devin says, but he lets Chuck pull him closer. The bouncer's feet are between his, and the next step forces Devin onto the loveseat, where he kneels with one leg on either side of Chuck's denim-clad thighs. Making a show of looking at Chuck's watch, Devin announces, "Twenty minutes, my bad. Do you know how hard it is to look perfect in twenty minutes?"

"You look perfect now, princess."

Rainbow Reviews: 4.5 out of 5.
"Snyder does an exquisite job of characterizing these two men in a very short story. This is really not so much a story as it is an erotic vignette. It left me smiling and just a little breathless! .. Don't miss this one!" 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"A short tale, only a scene, but really interesting."

Battle of the Bands

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 2,616 words
This story is included in the anthology, Shorts

BLURB: The rivalry between hard rock bands Tainted Black and Hazard is legendary in Richmond’s local rock scene. A fight between the drummers at Catch-22’s third annual Battle of the Bands is a sure way to get both bands eliminated from the competition, but the lead singers settle things in a very different -- but explosive -- manner.


He heard a scuffle behind him. Before he could look up someone rammed into him, hard, knocking him against the wall. The spigot caught him in the back of the head and for a brief instant the darkness behind his closed eyes flared white. "What the fuck ..." he started, flinging wet hair out of his face.

A heavy hand on his chest stopped him. Ty held him back, those eyes unreadable in the harsh bulbs overhead. "Stay right there," he warned.

Past Ty, Benjamin could see Skree struggling with Nick in the doorway. The taller drummer had Skree in a bear hug, arms pinned at his sides, but Skree pummeled his fists into Nick's midsection, bellowing in rage. Skree's feet were planted wide between the wall and the open door, giving him some leverage for the fight. But Mark was still behind the door, pinned in place with the doorknob in his stomach. Dimly Benjamin felt a drop of water drizzle down his back. Where Ty's hand rested on his chest, his skin felt itchy and hot. "What's this all about?" he wanted to know.

"Same old shit," Ty replied, his voice low. He was watching the water bead on Benjamin's mouth and when Benjamin licked the droplets away, Ty's own lips parted a bit in a faint sigh. Benjamin saw the struggle in those familiar eyes and wanted to laugh when Ty muttered, "Goddamn it. Look what you're gonna make me do."

"Like it's all my fault," Benjamin countered, but Ty wasn't listening.


GENRE: Contemporary, Romance
LENGTH: 3,248 words
This story is included in the anthology, So in Love

BLURB: It's hard to understand why some people feel the need to hurt themselves, especially when they seem to have everything they need or want out of life. So how do you help someone bent on a path of self-destruction?

And what can you possibly do when it's someone you love?

This short but powerful story is about a young man who discovers his lover is a "cutter." Simply asking him to stop doesn't solve the problem. As much as he hates to do it, he lays down an ultimatum that will hopefully save their relationship ... and his lover's life.


The first time I saw him naked, I noticed the cuts.

Red, angry scrapes across the pouch of his lower belly, like scratches or claw-marks. "What's this?" I asked, running a finger over one bumpy scab.

He sucked in his gut to pull out of reach. "Nothing." His voice turned sullen, pouting, and the erection that jutted from his thick crop of black curls seemed to wilt a little. "I thought we were going to --"

"Did you do this?" I asked, interrupting him. The cuts bothered me; they spoke of a pain I didn't know how to deal with, and that scared me. He scared me. I thought I'd known him.

When he didn't reply, I looked up from the cuts and saw the answer in his eyes. Sad, dark eyes, downcast, like the sky before a storm. He couldn't seem to meet my gaze, as if the cuts embarrassed him, or he was ashamed of his own weakness. "Where else do you this?" I asked.

Still no answer, but his arms moved behind his nude hips as if hiding from my view and I snatched his right elbow to see for myself. In the low lamplight of my bedroom, I could see very faint traces across his skin, a network of healed flesh. With a hard tug, I pulled him over to my bedside table and turned the lamp up higher, held his arm beneath it. "Please," he said, trembling when my fingers trailed over the scarred flesh. "It's nothing, okay? Those are so old."

Holding his arm aside, I pointed at his stomach. "These aren't."

His hand covered the fresh marks as if he could smooth them away, but he didn't say anything and I knew I was right. Sinking down to sit on my bed, I guided him into the span between my legs and wrapped my arms around his thighs. Ignoring the hard dick pointing at me, I pressed my face to his belly and kissed the highest cut, just below his navel. His hands cradled my head, fingers delving in my hair, and I waited for him to sigh my name before I admonished, "This doesn't happen again."

Joyfully Reviewed:
"Snyder drives home the difficulties of trying to help someone whose problem you just don’t understand without sugarcoating the issue or pasting on a too-perfect ending." 
Rainbow Reviews: 4.5 out of 5.
"The sensual images of the two young men and the heartbreaking emotions depicted create a great story yet leave the reader wanting more. Be sure to pick up this short offering if you haven’t read it and if you have, read it again." 
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"A very short story, but you have to read it, it's heartbreaking." 
Reader Review by LouisaClark:
"A story that tackles this subject, you wouldn't expect to be romantic and heartwarming -- but it is." 
SX News:
"You have to have balls to claim anything is best but Labonte can lay claim to that title better than most. His Romance anthology is a great read ... 'Afflicted' by J.M. Snyder uses love as redemption for a young man who obsessively cuts himself."

A Little Something for Santa by J.M. Snyder

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 5,298 words
This story is included in the anthology, Shorts

BLURB: As the holidays approach, Patrick confides in his coworker Chris about his attraction to older men in Santa suits. From the gleam in his friend's eye, he just knows Chris is going to dress up like the jolly old elf himself in a desperate bid for Patrick's attention.

When both men work late on Christmas Eve, Patrick decides to be charitable and give his coworker a little something special ... if he manages to pull off the costume.

Who says Santa only comes once a year?


"Can I tell you a secret?" Chris nodded and leaned towards me, his eyes wary. Lowering my voice, I told him, "Santa suits? Turn me on."

"You're joking," he murmured. A dreamy look came over his face, and I wondered if he pictured himself dressed as Santa Claus, me on my knees before him, both of our hands working loose the thick black belt that held up his red fur-trimmed pants. Then he gave me a sharp look, as if I might be lying. "You're shitting me."

Despite the fact that it was Chris's face in the picture, the image of myself about to go down on Santa sent a spark of electricity through my blood that jolted my dick. "Serious," I swore. "I've always had this thing for Santa. He's like the ultimate sugar daddy, right? Brings you presents whenever he comes." I winked. "He's hooked me up over the years, let me tell you. I wouldn't mind paying him back a little, you know what I mean?" Raising my fist in front of my mouth, I stuck my tongue in my cheek and mimed giving a blowjob.

Chris's eyes widened until I thought they'd to roll out of his head. "My cousin?" he said -- his voice squeaked, and he had to stop and clear his throat before continuing -- "She has this costume shop over in Chester. Mostly Halloween stuff, but some dress-up things too. You know, for ..." He made a vague gesture with his hand, hoping I got the point.

With a grin, I asked, "Sex play?" His cheeks pinked and he looked away, embarrassed. "Like what, nurse and maid uniforms? Or gimp outfits? You remember that scene in Pulp Fiction?"

Quickly, Chris said, "Just costumes, okay? I don't know what all she's got, I've never really inquired." He frowned when I laughed. "I know she's got a slew of Santa suits, though. She rents them out this time of the year, for parties or charities or whatever. She makes a killing off of them."

"Anyone can put on a red suit," I said with a shrug. "But not everyone can pull off that real Santa Claus look. You know, rosy cheeks, wiry white beard, belly that shakes like a bowlful of jelly?"

"Her costumes are top notch," Chris assured me. Nodding at the DVD case in my hand, he said, "Like that. No fake beards or bad makeup or any of that mess. Her Santas are so good, Mrs. Claus wouldn't know the difference."

I nudged him and teased, "I bet you can really fill out a Santa suit."

The bell above the outside door tinkled as a late customer wandered in. Chris glanced out the pass-through window and lowered his voice. "You really have the hots for Santa?" he asked.

"Shyeah," I replied. "I think he's damn sexy for an old guy. Hell, I'd blow him." I started for the front counter, but turned back at the kitchen doorway. "I'd blow most anyone in a Santa suit, to be honest. That's something to think about."

As I went to wait on the customer, I knew Chris's mind wasn't on anything else.

A Haunted Love

GENRE: Contemporary, Fantasy, Historical, Romance
LENGTH: 14,352 words
This story is included in the anthology, Perchance to Dream

BLURB: Nick works as a re-enactor at a Colonial America site. One foggy night he meets David Henry, just about the sexiest man in colonial garb Nick has ever seen. Because Nick's missed the last bus into town, David invites him to stay the night with him at the colony's inn.

Though there's definitely a spark between them, David is gone when Nick wakes. When David's claim of working as an apprentice at the glass shop doesn't pan out, Nick begins to wonder about the guy he's met and the ghost stories circulating around the colony, stories he always believed untrue ...


I unlace my shirt further, pull it open a bit, and recline in the chair with my eyes closed. I hope he’s watching me. My fingers trail down my chest, my stomach, over my crotch, until my hand rests on my thigh. I ease open my eyes and look over at him.

He stares baldly at me, as I hoped he would, and there’s a naked hunger in his eyes I put there, me.

Damn but he’s pretty, have I mentioned that yet? By the firelight his skin glows, his hair darker than it looked outside, his eyes like sapphires, faceted and sparkling. He sinks into the other chair slowly, not taking his steady gaze from me. If he knew I saw him looking he’d blush because I can almost taste how bad he wants to touch me.

“You can,” I whisper.

“Can what?” His voice is deep and throaty as if he just woke up.

“Touch me,” I sigh. It’s more than a wish but not quite a command. “If you want.”

His hand stretches out before he can stop it, and his fingers brush across my knee, then pull back. Suddenly he clears his throat and stares into the fire as if we’ve done something wrong and he can’t bear to look at me any longer. “You can have the bed,” he says, his voice strained. “I’ll stretch out on the floor. It’s only one night.”

“You can sleep with me.” I keep my voice soft because I don’t want to scare him away. When his cheeks redden, I add, “I’m not talking about that. I don’t fuck guys I just met.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he stares at the fire and toys with the loose sleeve of his shirt. In the low light, his hair matches the color of the flames, and a muscle pulses in his jaw where he’s clenched his teeth to keep silent.

I nudge his foot with mine playfully. “David, it’s a full. That means two people fit on it. All we’ll do is sleep.”

“I don’t know.” He glances at me and there’s that muscle again, throbbing as he takes in my lips, my eyes, my curls. It’s as if he’s undressing me in his mind, and I hope he likes what he sees.

I tug at the laces on my breeches that tie up my crotch and sigh. “You said it yourself,” I point out. “It’s only one night.”

His blush deepens. “I’m not the sort of man who does something like that.”

I study him. I can’t be wrong—I’m never wrong, I can spot boys like him a mile away, boys who like other boys, boys like me. I can pick them out of a crowd. I see the interest shine in his eyes…he wants me. Even if he doesn’t know it yet, there’s something about me that will haunt him until we meet again.

I already know I’m going to get his number first thing in the morning, and I’m going to ask him out, maybe take him to the movies. I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like him and I’m not going to let him slip away so easily. “Something like what?”

He shrugs, embarrassed.

“You don’t like guys?” His lips twist as he tries not to smile. He still isn’t seeing things my way. I want him to see me. Reaching across the table between us, I touch his arm. “Come on, David. I see the way you look at me. You’re the sexiest boy I’ve seen in all the time I’ve been here. I’m thinking we need to hook up, you and me, and I know it’s not going to be tonight but I can wait. Shit, you look like the type who’s worth waiting for, you know?”

He smiles and runs his forefinger across my knuckles, his touch light and feathery. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

I laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You talk funny.”

I laugh again, surprised.

“No, not in a bad way…”

Now he’s snickering and his hand is on mine, he’s holding it to his arm as his fingers ease into my palm. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it.

“You use a lot of funny words, and you talk so fast. I don’t know half of what you mean but I like the way you say it.”

“I’m saying we can both sleep in the bed.” Now that he’s smiling, I can’t keep from grinning myself. “No fooling around, I promise. I like you, David. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, and I’m hoping we can get to know each other better. You work at the glasshouse?”

He nods. That’s not far from where Jeremy works at the smithy. “Shit,” I drawl, closing my fingers around his. “I’ve been wanting to meet a boy like you for a long time now.”

“Why?” The way he looks up at me, not quite so shy anymore, suggests he knows exactly what I have in mind.

“Like you don’t know.”

Bitten by Books: 4 out of 5.
"I was riveted by every story ... [A Haunted Love] is absolutely my favorite J.M. Snyder story to date." 
Bitten by Books: 4 out of 5.
"A very enjoyable story that raises some interesting questions and leaves the reader wanting more." 
Fallen Angel Reviews: 5 out of 5.
"A different kind of a ghost story that tangles the two main characters up in an impossible relationship ... The two are sweet together, searching for each other by day and coming together by night, both equally confused by the situation they are in but wanting very much to be together ... Overall this is a sweet story and well worth the read for those who love a ghost story." 
Joyfully Reviewed:
"It was a happy ending but not a very telling ending ... as a JM Snyder fan, I am glad that I read it." 
Literary Nymphs Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"The creative J.M. Snyder lures you into the minds of Nick and David, two lonely gay men from different times finding a loving connection, but is it real or fantasy? Step into the intriguing world of A Haunted Love and draw your own conclusion." 
Rainbow Reviews: 5 out of 5.
"A fascinating story [with] a paranormal flair that adds depth and mystery to the plot line ... Nicholas wanted someone of his own so much that he was able to find a love that may not exist today, but will he choose his love or will they remain just figments of each other’s imagination?"

To Love a God

GENRE: Erotica, Fantasy, Historical
LENGTH: 9,571 words

BLURB: Lame, with harsh features, brooding eyes, a wiry beard crackling with flame, and ropy muscles, the god mortals call Hephaestus is nobody's idea of perfection. Indeed, far from it. A lingering odor of burnt solder clings to him, adding to his manly stench of sweat and musk. His bed is narrow and lonely, his sheets filled with soot and regret.

Blacksmith to Olympus, he hides from his kin on an island in the Mediterranean, commissioned to forge a hero's sword from unbreakable metal. But a brief tryst with a minor water god distracts him. Aean is everything Hephaestus is not -- young, beautiful, sexy. He stirs in Hephaestus a savage lust the smith has never felt before.

Now Hephaestus wants Aean for his own, and he won't rest until the water god is his.


There is a slight current underwater, a tug against his foot, that flickers over his toes and dances along the length of his leg. He stretches his calf, raising it up out of the current, then plunges it back into the flow of the stream running unseen through the pond. Or perhaps it’s a naiad, toying with him, a water nymph looking for a spot of fun.

As if in response, he feels a wet finger drawn across the ball of his foot, tickling him. He kicks out, irritated. “Not tonight,” he growls. His voice is gravelly, unused, as deep and dark as the forge in which he’s been toiling all day.

Those are definitely fingers he feels smoothing up his leg now. He kicks again and covers his eyes with one hand. He doesn’t have to feign his exhaustion -- it’s written in every muscle, every bone. He hears a splash as someone breaks the surface of the water but there is no tell-tale giggle, no girlish laughter, nothing to give away his visitor. Just that hand, now heavy on his knee, and another drifting between his legs. Cool fingers close over the tip of his thick cock, jolting it awake. Pleasure shoots through him like one of Cupid’s arrows, piercing through his fatigue. In an instant, his dick is hard enough to rival the anvil in his forge, and the blood rushing in his ears drowns out all other sound.

So much for a quiet evening alone. Damn.

A hand encircles his shaft, gripping it fiercely. Hephaestus gasps, hips rising off the rock, his body wanting more, no matter how tired he might be. He feels his lame leg pushed aside to part his thighs and the hand lifts his dick as it kneads him, working his erection. He fucks against it, suddenly needful. Cold lips touch his balls but the tongue that licks out to trace his veins is as warm as any mortal’s and Hephaestus melts beneath it. “Yes,” he sighs, aloud this time, hands gripping the rock beneath him for purchase, legs shifting wider apart. That tongue delves deeper, tasting his musky center, and he writhes with delight as his dick throbs in the unseen hand. His voice rises to Olympus, scratchy with desire. “Gods, yes.”

Slowly the nymph climbs onto him. Hephaestus keeps his eyes closed, unwilling to scare his visitor away just yet. These creatures can be skittish at times, and he’s learned the hard way not to spook them when he wants relief. A damp leg presses along the inside thigh of his lame one, and another rests high against the outside of his right hip. Something hard and heavy hangs down against his stomach, rubbing in the furry hair of his abdomen. His cock stabs between the nymph’s legs -- he thrusts up, meeting nothing but air, and a frown crosses his face. Where ...?

The visitor rocks back and Hephaestus feels wet buttocks with his next thrust. Firm like ripe apples and damp from the water below, the ass cheeks part easily around his cock, giving him some much needed friction. He grips the knee closest to him in an attempt to keep the creature close. If he can just roll over quickly, pin the nymph beneath him, thrust inside in one swift move, maybe he can find release tonight.

But a strong hand catches his, and the male voice that purrs in his ear surprises him into opening his eyes. “Oh, no, smithy. You’re mine this evening, not the other way around.”

While We Wait

GENRE: Contemporary
LENGTH: 11,446 words

BLURB: After another wild weekend with his boys, Jason finds himself in the doctor's waiting room with a burning sensation spreading through his groin. While filling out the necessary paperwork, he sees a gay couple whose affection and obvious love make him feel painfully alone. He can't imagine living with one man, loving only one, for the rest of his life, and part of him wants to intrude on their relationship, insert himself into it if he can.

Jason's brief encounter with Wesley and Grey Fordham causes him to take an uncomfortable look at his own lonely, promiscuous lifestyle.

NOTE: This story isn't romance, though there is a gay couple in it. This story also isn't erotica, though there is graphic language and descriptive scenes of homosexual intimacy. It's more just gay fiction, so if you don't expect an erotic romance, you won't be let down.


Jason is the only person in the waiting room when the two guys enter. As the door opens, he looks up from the magazine he isn’t reading and almost smiles because the first guy is a kid his own age, early twenties, with a shock of bleached hair that hangs in front of his face. But when he shakes his head, throwing the hair aside, Jason sees the hard green gaze staring him down and his smile dies. The kid steps into the room and stops, the way a prospective buyer steps into a run-down apartment and studies his surroundings -- with an air of vague disgust, as if one can’t possibly believe he might be interested in this place. He takes in the overstuffed furniture in muted pastel hues that hint at color, the leafy potted plants in the corners, the low wooden tables covered in old issues of People and Sports Illustrated, and his expression never changes. The glare in his eyes never fades.

He holds the door for the man behind him. He’s older than the kid is, much older -- the first thought that pops into Jason’s mind is this is Dad, only there’s no family resemblance between the two. The kid is tall and thin, almost gangly, all elbows and long limbs, and while the man is roughly the same height, he’s well-built, stocky in the places where men over thirty-five usually are. An uncle then, a good fifteen, twenty years older than the kid is. His skin is deeply tanned and lined like old leather, his short, dark hair peppered with gray. When he walks, he favors his left leg.

The kid frowns at the leg as the older man passes him. “Does it hurt much?” he wants to know. He speaks loudly, like he wants the whole waiting room to overhear, then glances around to see if anyone’s listening. Quickly, Jason drops his gaze back to the magazine open in his lap.

“It’s okay,” the man replies. Jason hears the door latch shut and dares to look up again. Seeing him, the man nods, a polite gesture that makes the boy with him scowl harder. A thin hand takes the man’s arm possessively, then trails down the sleeve of his bulky winter coat to lace through his thick fingers. An uncle, Jason thinks again, as the kid guides the man to the reception desk.

Before the nurse behind the desk can speak, the kid tells her, “We have an appointment.” No shit, Jason wants to say. He refuses to look up from the magazine again because he knows that’s what the kid wants. He can practically feel those eyes boring into him, begging to be acknowledged. Jason isn’t playing the audience here. “At ten o’clock,” the kid continues in his loud hear me voice. “With Doctor --”

“Sign in, please,” the nurse interrupts.

Jason senses the kid’s irritation. It radiates from him in waves like summer heat. Jason ducks his head and raises the magazine to hide his smirk. Put you in your place, didn’t she? They’re both here for appointments. It’s a freaking doctor’s office, for Christ’s sake. What, does he think Jason’s just sitting here for the hell of it?

“Wesley,” the man warns. His is a deep voice that rumbles through the room, soft and commanding like distant thunder. From his weary tone, Jason suspects he has to reprimand the boy often.

Wesley sighs. “Sign in, she said.”

Without raising his head, Jason watches them over the top of the magazine. The man signs the clipboard -- left-handed, because his other hand is held tight between both of Wesley’s own. The closer the kid leans into him, the more Jason begins to think maybe an attraction stronger than family binds the two together. His groin stirs at the thought, because the boy is nice looking and the old man isn’t that old, but then the pain in his lower belly flares to life and he stifles the thought. “Put my name, too,” Wesley murmurs, watching the man write. Even when he’s trying to keep it down, Jason has no trouble hearing him halfway across the room.

“I’m the patient here,” the man replies. There’s a faint humor in his tone, as if he thinks Wesley’s being cute. Silently, Jason agrees.

“I’m here with you,” Wesley argues. “Put me down, too.”

Behind the desk, the nurse rolls her eyes, annoyed. “Whichever one of you has the appointment,” she tells them.

The man gives Wesley an indulgent smile that lights up his brown eyes and takes years off his weathered face. “Me,” he says. There it is again, something Jason can’t quite place that hints at more than avuncular affection. The eyes, maybe, or the fingers that squeeze Wesley’s own. With the slightest tug, he starts to move away from the desk.

“I’ll need to see your insurance card, please,” the nurse says. She glances at the clipboard and adds, “Mr. Fordham?”

Mr. Fordham stops. “Right.” Awkwardly he digs into his back pocket and extracts a wallet as battered and worn as his lined cheeks. Without letting go of Wesley’s hand, he tries to extract a thin card from the folds of leather. “I’ve got it here --”

Wesley takes the wallet, which Mr. Fordham surrenders. “In the front part, hon,” he says, watching the kid root through plastic and cash for the elusive insurance card. Jason is sure he hears him say hon, though the man speaks softly and he’s half a room away.

Hon, worlds more intimate than son. If Jason’s right and they are lovers ... the thought makes him want to swoon, it’s too precious.

Victory Fuck

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica
LENGTH: 3,174 words

BLURB: A young speedskater lusts after an older, more experienced teammate. Problem is, his teammate doesn't seem to notice him in the locker room or out on the ice ... until after they win the finals.

Amid flashing lights and screaming fans, the two come together in one perfect moment to celebrate their victory. But when reporters snag his teammate's attention away, the young skater returns to his hotel room alone, sure he's been forgotten again.

Or has he?


He came to me a winner.

The roar of the crowd drowned out my thoughts as I stood on the ice with my teammates, adrenaline rushing through my veins, basking in victory. Their shouts sang through me like blood, like lust, validating the moment.

Amid all the flashing lights, his eyes were all I saw.

Out of nowhere he swept me into a strong embrace. There was only a second of shock -- my heart stopped in my chest, my breath caught in my throat, and despite the crowd, I heard one thought clearly in my mind. Finally.

He pulled me to him in a fierce, triumphant hug, burying his face in my hair. I thought I felt his lips brush my neck, but I might have been dreaming the sensation. Heaven knows I fell asleep often enough these past few months wishing for this very touch. No words of encouragement, nothing said between us, just that maybe-there kiss and his arms tight around me, his body flush against mine, and the crowd wild with approval.

War Torn

GENRE: Futuristic / Sci-Fi, Romance
LENGTH: 29,797 words | 134 pages

BLURB: In a not too distant future, the island of Manhattan has been commandeered by rebels aided by terrorists who have set themselves against the U.S. government. The Brooklyn Bridge, now fallen into disuse, stands as a sort of "no-man's land" between the island and the military that patrol the Hudson River. When the rebels bomb the Bridge, the nation is plunged into what might become a second Civil War.

Captain Jace Rickert is a grounded pilot whose Army lover, Second Lieutenant Tomas Tait, is sent on a routine reconnaissance mission. When Tait disappears and the military can’t stop the impending war to find one missing soldier, Rickert takes matters into his own hands.


When I open the door Alden whirls into my house like a dervish. "Are you seeing this?"

One look at his wild eyes and I'm awake. "Seeing what?"

I watch him fumble with the remote, and then the TV's on, a cacophony of noise that fills my house like the dread bubbling within me.

"Al? What's --"

"It started," he says, stopping at the first news channel he finds. A windblown reporter covers one ear and talks into a microphone, his words staccato bursts that explode in my mind. Bombing began last night...

In a daze I walk over to the TV, mesmerized by the images of blood stained men in camouflage and fatigues, stretchers and weapons and my God. Oh my fucking God.

I wrest the remote from Alden's hands. "Bombing where? Turn it up, Alden, I can't hear it. What did they hit? Turn it up!"

"It is up."

But I still can't hear it, I can't hear anything and all I can see is blood. "It started last night, sometime after midnight, caught our camps off guard. They say almost a hundred dead, a few dozen missing, and that's just the beginning. Jace --"

He starts to flick to another channel and I punch him in the arm, hard. "Stop it! Jesus, just let me hear it, okay? Don't go changing channels just yet. I don't know the whole story --"

"They say --"

"Shut up!" I push in front of him until the TV fills my entire world.

What about Tomas?

I want the reporter to stop talking about the casualties and start naming names, even though I know they don't do that on national television. I want to be there, at the Bridge, amid the blood and the dead and the dying, I want to know ... "Jesus." There's nothing else to say. "Where the fuck is he?"

Behind me Alden answers, "I don't know."

With one hand I wipe my face, surprised when my palm comes away slick with sweat. "Tomas," I whisper, but it's more of a sob and when my deep voice breaks that's it, I can't deal with this. I can't handle not knowing.

Sinking to my knees on the plush carpet, I tell myself the sting in my eyes is more sweat, not tears. I'm not crying because I don't know anything yet, and I'm not going to give in until I know what's happened. Please, I pray. I'm not sure who I'm praying to or what I'm praying for, but I'm not going to stop until I see my boy again. Please.

Alden makes me a strong cup of coffee; even though I can taste the brandy lacing the brew, I drink it down without a word. Together we sit on my couch and watch the TV, changing channels during commercial breaks and learning nothing new, nothing at all. Outside activity has picked up -- we can hear large transports rattle past my quarters, heading for the barracks and the squads ready to join in the fight. Choppers fill the skies, the heavy beating of their blades drowning out the TV when they fly overhead.

On every channel it's the same thing -- different voices but the same images, the same words. American forces were bombed shortly before dawn ... shelling hit the middle of our military camps ... those at the center dead, dying, or wounded and not expected to survive ... the death toll over a hundred now and rising as rubble is cleared away and more bodies found ... For the hundredth time, I ask, "What about Tomas?"

"I don't know," Alden says. "I'm sorry, Jace, I just don't know."

Coffee Time Romance: 5 out of 5.
"The raw emotions this book portrays goes beyond ordinary. The futuristic setting is very well written. Snyder's fast paced plot and vivid scenery make War Torn a fascinating read ... the must have of the summer!" 
Fallen Angel Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"The selfless love between Jace and Tomas is the rock around how they live their lives and respond to everyone. The setting upon which this story is based is very realistic and shows us what we could face as a world if people continue to be unwilling to work together for a better tomorrow. Thanks go to Ms. Snyder for another look into a world where human feelings are in the end the most important things of all." 
Literary Nymphs Reviews: 4 out of 5.
"Snyder has created a dark, war torn future with a strong and beautiful love story in the midst of it all. Jace is a great character; you'll be pulling for him as he has his own obstacles to overcome throughout his journey. J.M.'s writing is wonderfully descriptive; I experienced much of the journey right along with Captain Rickert." 
My Book Cravings: 5 out of 5.
"A poignant, heart-wrenching story ... of one man's race to save the most important person in his world ... one of the most emotionally profound books I've read in a long time. The sensual love scenes add to the emotional aspects of the relationship between Tomas and Jace. This book will touch your heart and stay in your memory for a long time. Don't miss out on this amazing book!" 
Pulp Fiction Reviews: 4.5 out of 5.
"After the first section, I was hooked. The love scenes are sensual more than sexual, the love and romance key to what makes this story so wonderful. The plot is very clever, and the nuances between lovers who are also soldiers spoke to a writer sensitive to the inner workings of his/her characters." 
Rainbow Reviews: 5 out of 5.
"One of the best books I've read this year; the plot, characters and dialogue are all top-notch. It's an emotional story that moved me in so many ways. I found myself laughing at Tomas's antics, scowling at Alden's sadness, aching at Jace's sorrow and cheering him on as he risked everything he held dear to find the love of his life. I encourage you to read [it] and experience fine, romantic writing at its best." 
Review by Frost: 5 out of 5.
"The special kind of story that makes me wish to pin more than 5 Swords on it: a story which had me smiling, weeping, shuddering, and yearning all through to the end ... War Torn ripped a hole in my heart and then filled it back up. I can't find words to recommend this very special story highly enough. I do know I won't soon forget its message, or its touching heroes." 
Sensual Reads & Reviews: 3 out of 5.
"A first class story that shows no matter who you are the love shared between two people never diminishes. Snyder touches the lives of anyone who reads her. I for one am never disappointed." 
The Romance Studio: 4 out of 5.
"This is a well written love story. The characters are strong, loyal to their friends, lovers and compatriots ... I enjoy Ms. Snyder’s work immensely but this definitely isn’t light reading." 
Two Lips Reviews: 5 out of 5, with a "heat level" of 1 out of 3.
"A haunting story of love and the determination to prevail over circumstances. It is beautifully written as the prose brings to life Jace's emotions and his struggles to reach his lover ... leaves a long lasting mark on the reader."

Devilish Good Time

GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica, Paranormal
LENGTH: 7,343 words
This story is included in the anthology, Shorts

BLURB: Against his better judgment, Jacob goes to a Halloween party on campus where he runs into Bobby, a jock on the crew team he's been eyeing for a while. Problem is, guys like Bobby don't usually go for guys like Jacob.

Once they ditch Bobby's roommate and his girlfriend to find a little quiet time in New Jersey's Pine Barrens, it seems Bobby only has eyes for Jacob. But their tryst is soon interrupted. All those tales and legends about the Jersey Devil are just talk, right?



Bobby shrugs and settles closer to me. "Just relax," he tells me, as if I can turn this tension between us on and off like a switch. "Enjoy the ride."

Is he serious? I stare at him for a moment, trying to read the thoughts behind those dark eyes, but his elusive grin keeps me guessing. My mind whispers, At least try. Tentatively I reach out and touch his knee. He eases back in the seat, spreading his legs out in front of him, and when he doesn't laugh or scare me away, my hand drifts down along the seam of his inner thigh. All of a sudden it has a mind of its own, my fingers curious to see if Bobby's half as hard as I am. I brush over his dick and through his jeans it feels impossibly huge, thick like the muscles in his arms and fully erect. He lifts his hips up to press into my palm and I curve my hand around the outline of his cock through his jeans. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he purrs against my neck, "That's it."

I rub down his length. I can't believe I'm doing this -- getting freaky with a guy I crushed on last semester, can this be happening? Bobby moans into my collar and then kisses my neck, his lips hot and damp. His hand is back in my lap again, blatant this time, his fingers fumbling at my zipper like they want in. He finds the pull and starts to tug it down. I feel his trim nails scrape across the front of my briefs, I'm sure the moment he touches me skin on skin I'll shoot all over the place, he's seconds from my cock and so persistent, when the music cuts off completely and Amber turns around in the front seat to grin at us. "We're in the Barrens," she says.

Bobby covers my open fly with his hand and sighs. "Amber, we're sort of busy here."

"Ryan's driving," she says, as if we don't know, "and since I can't do anything until he pulls over, I'm going to make damn sure you two don't do anything, either." Widening her eyes, she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know who's out here, don't you?"

My blood is singing in my ears, Bobby's rubbing small circles into the front of my briefs, I've got him in hand jeans or not, and I'm not even sure where I am at the moment ... does she honestly expect an answer? Apparently she does, because she slaps Bobby's hand away from my crotch and whines, "Come on, stop it! Listen to me!"

Into my neck, Bobby mumbles, "You stop it." His hand returns to my open fly. "Tell your boy-toy to pull over already. Some of us don't have balls of steel, you know. I can't hold it all night."

She frowns at him and turns her attention to me. "You've heard of the Jersey Devil, right? What's your name again?"

"Jacob," I sigh. I'm surprised how steady my voice sounds, when every other part of me is quivering with anticipation. "Jersey Devils, hockey team, right? Didn't they win the Stanley Cup last year?"

"No," she says, then shrugs. "I don't know, maybe. But I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the Jersey Devil. Living, breathing spawn from hell? Lives in the Pine Barrens? Don't tell me you haven't heard the stories."

A Cowboy’s Heart

GENRE: Erotica, Historical, Romance, Transgender
LENGTH: 39,471 words | 170 pages

BLURB: Ranch hand Tommy Prout thinks he's in love ... with his boss, Hal Bolstrum. Problem is, Hal's engaged to be married to the ranch owner's daughter and, though he knows of Tommy's crush, he sees it as nothing more than harmless affection. When payday rolls around and the other cowboys want to ride into town to check out the girls at the Wildhorse saloon, Tommy tags along to throw off any suspicion anyone might have about his feelings for his boss. He sure as hell doesn't want to spend his money on any of the soiled doves the town has to offer.

At the bar he meets Lila, an enterprising young working girl who takes a liking to him. When Tommy says he wants to be left alone, Lila suggests he rest in her room -- with the promise they don't have to actually do anything. But Lila isn't like the others, and when she discovers Tommy is more scared of her than attracted to her feminine charms, she lets him in on a little secret.

Lila's real name is Stephen Marsh. He lives as a woman, moving from saloon to saloon, pleasing men for money. He loves men and enjoys his work, and what others don't know about what's under his skirt doesn't bother him. In all his years on the prairie, he's never met someone quite like Tommy. When he discovers Tommy is sweet on Hal, he suggests teaching the cowboy just how to please a man.

He doesn't mean to lose his heart to Tommy in the process.

With "Lila" in his life, Tommy begins to dream of someone softer than Hal, someone pretty when dolled up but still man enough where it counts. Someone like Lila. As his feelings deepen, can he use Lila's own teachings to win the heart he really loves?


When Tommy signaled the bartender for another refill, he felt a strong hand ease across his shoulders, and a husky, smoked-out voice near his ear purred, “Make it a double, Ralph.”

Tommy turned; it seemed to take hours for his head to swivel around so he could see the newcomer beside him. Then his eyes wouldn’t quite focus right, because at first he saw a young man his own age, with almond eyes and thin lips, a strong, aquiline nose, a predominant Adam’s apple. There was a shyness in those eyes, as if he harbored a secret he wanted to share with Tommy but he was afraid of anyone else finding it out. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face, and Tommy surprised himself when he wondered what it’d taste like if he kissed it away.

Then he saw the ruddy cheeks, the liner framing the eyes, and the lipstick like war paint smeared across those lips. The man dissolved as Tommy took in the rest of the stranger -- it was the singer from the piano, in a flirtatious black frock that shone blue in the lamplight, all lace and rustling fabric, her hair piled up in chestnut curls above those masculine, kohl-ringed eyes. Tommy shook his head, but the man he thought he’d seen didn’t return. The woman standing beside him gave a sultry smile, her eyes half-shut, and the hand on his shoulder gave a playful squeeze. “Buy a lady a drink, cowboy?”

Tommy shrugged her off him. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Not interested.”

She laughed, a low sound like thunder in the distance. Despite his earlier promise to himself, his libido piqued at that laughter. Short fingernails scratched at the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades and Tommy melted. “Your friends said you’re looking for a woman tonight. Let me be that girl.”

“I’m not ...” Tommy started.

But she was nothing if not persistent, and with expert hands, she spun his stool around to hop up on Tommy’s knee. His hand strayed to her hip to hold her in place. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe he’d been expecting…something else? He’d never touched a woman before, but he’d always heard they were soft and full of curves in which a man could hide. But the hip beneath Tommy’s palm was angular and hard. He ran his hand down a bit, experimenting, and felt a smooth thigh in his grip. No extra padding, nothing he’d associate with the word woman. The other way, and he found a firm buttock, meaty, pliant.

On his lap, she giggled as she grabbed his hand and planted it on her hip. “You have to pay for more than that.” Tipping back Tommy’s hat, she leaned in close and stared into his eyes. “What’s your name, cutie?”

Tommy didn’t want to answer, but there was something in her gaze that startled him into replying. “Tommy,” he whispered, his voice unusually gruff. “Look, honey --”

“Lila,” she told him. “Lila Burrell.”

“Lila.” Tommy gave her a disarming grin. “I don’t have a lot of money with me tonight, okay? I just want a few drinks, that’s it.”

She reached behind her and found his pocket, which jingled with change. “I’m not cheap,” she admitted, “but I bet there’s a thing or two I can do for you tonight.”

Tommy sighed. “I’m not really --”

“Interested?” Lila laughed. “So you said. But what’s all this?”

She cupped one hand around his crotch and squeezed. Tommy gasped in pleasure as her fingers closed over the budding erection he’d been trying so hard to ignore. He wanted to tell her no, thank you, go pick on someone else, but every nerve cried out for her touch, his cock throbbed in her hand, and all he could manage was a guttural moan that didn’t translate into a word at all. It was a long, drawn-out sigh, pure lust given a voice, and it left Tommy breathless with need.

Or maybe that was the hand now working at his crotch, the finger that had popped one of the buttons on his fly and now drew lazy circles into his cock with one fingernail. As much as he wanted to say no, his whole body ached for more.

When the bartender brought Tommy’s double whiskey, the woman drank half of it in one long draw. Through hooded eyes, Tommy watched her throat work around the drink -- the black choker she wore covered the bob of her Adam’s apple. Take that piece of velvet off, remove the rouge and lipstick, trim back the curls, and Tommy thought he’d see the man he’d noticed at first, the attractive young man with the shy eyes and faint smile. Had Lila said his friends sent her over? Was this some sort of joke?

With great difficulty, he pried her hand away from his crotch. Her strong fingers wrapped around his in a fierce grip he’d have never thought a woman could manage. A glance at the poker table where Slim and the others were playing showed his friends were too interested in their cards to pay much attention to him. This was wrong, he told himself -- he wasn’t attracted to women. He considered himself a man’s man, in every sense of the word.

But Lila’s persistence was intoxicating. Or maybe it was the touch of another, irregardless of gender, that had Tommy swooning. There was something very unfeminine about the woman in his lap, something that made him want to see the face beneath the makeup, something that hinted at a pleasure he’d never find on his own. Would it be so bad, to lose himself in another tonight? With the lights out, Lila could be anyone Tommy wanted, anyone at all.

Like Hal.