Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Please Welcome New To SRP Author: James Goodman!

James' new book: Blood Bond released today!

About James

James Goodman began life in Dover Delaware, but has lived in several states throughout the nation as well as several places abroad. Some of his gypsy ways were in service to his country, others in service to his family, but most in service to his heart.

He graduated from Peach County Georgia before joining the Army during Operation Desert Shield. Upon completion of his duty, he attended college at Oklahoma State University and earned a BS in Electronics Engineering Technology.

In addition to being a word slinger, James is now the owner of an engineering and construction company. He is also one of the founding members of the Highway Rollers, a group of motorcycle enthusiasts who raise funds for various charities.

He now calls Owasso, Oklahoma home and resides there with his beautiful wife, teenage son and their three dogs. They spend a lot of time in the great outdoors, riding motorcycles, wakeboarding, hiking, hunting and just generally enjoying each other’s company.

To find out more, visit his website. Or contact him directly at He would love to hear from you.

A storm brews in the Indian Territory. Nightfall is coming and there is something lurking in the darkness that is as beautiful as it is terrifying. There is a new hunter on the plains and his prey is… human. When a Native American man collides with the world of vampires, the fate of an entire tribe could hang in the balance.


Kanati peeked from under his blanket, watching the lantern as it faded down the hall. He spared a quick glance at the other beds lining the wall. Five on his left, four on his right. He and the others were guests at the Chesterfield Academy for Boys, Injun School to those who worked there.

Should I wake any of them? Who else is crazy enough to try this?

He pulled a crumpled paper from beneath his pillow and ran a finger over it in the darkness. A map, stolen from the library, ripped from a book earlier in the day. It marked his Talwa, Tahlonteeskee. Home.

The harsh bite of winter was gone, but the air still carried a chill. At least that’s why he told himself his entire body trembled.

Sliding from beneath the covers, he willed his breath to come. He listened for movement in the hall, cringing when the boards creaked beneath his feet. Grabbing his boots from beside the bed, he crept in stocking feet to the edge of the room and crouched to eye the shadows in the dimly lit hall. He could barely make out the shape of a door at the end of the hallway, but it was enough. By then, he knew the route by heart, having walked it every day for the last eleven years.

Forty steps to freedom. Ocasta, please make my feet light and their dreams heavy.

He could feel sweat pool as it ran down his back. Fear threatened to consume his resolve.

If they beat me for speaking in my own tongue, what will they do to me for trying to escape?

A board groaned beneath his feet. He held his breath. He froze at the halfway point, certain he heard breathing behind him. He whirled, ready to spout an explanation. The hall was empty.

Keep it steady. One foot in front of the other. You’re almost there—

Holding his breath, he reached for the knob. The gods are smiling on you.

“Joseph, what are you doing out of bed?” a voice rumbled behind him.

Kanati jumped, spun and glared at the man with the lantern. Jack Barnes, teacher extraordinaire. He was one of the most vile human beings he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Between the beatings, the leering during bathing time and the lingering touches while helping some of the younger boys get dressed in the mornings, it was a wonder Kanati made it to near adult hood with his virtue and most of his bones intact. Over a decade of torment and regret crashed over him in waves. So many times, he wanted to stand up to the man, but he had been conditioned for so long with fear, pain and humiliation, he didn’t dare. Besides, the rest of the teachers at the school were only marginally better.

“My name’s not Joseph,” he growled.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” The man stepped forward, face puckered, though it wasn’t clear if it was from confusion or anger.

“I’m going home.” He reached for the knob again.

“Don’t push me, boy.” The man jabbed a finger at the air between them. “You touch that door and I’ll—”

“What?” He cast a glance at him over his shoulder. “You’ll give me another beating?”

The man reached for his hip and snarled when he realized his holster wasn’t there. “I don’t think beating is a strong enough word for what I’m about to do to you.” He began his advance, fists clenched.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” he said with a nervous chuckle and slung open the door.

He leapt from the porch, cursing as the rough earth dug into his feet. A full moon colored the sloping hills an eerie shade of blue. Nothing on the windswept plain provided him cover. The nearest tree line was over a mile away.

It’s not far. You can make it. He stopped just long enough to stomp into his boots.

Gunfire exploded, kicking up wisps of dust and dirt from the ground around his feet.

Kanati scurried in a zigzag motion, breathing in gulps. Hickory trees raced to greet him. He ran faster, throwing himself into their arms. The branches fought him as he pushed his way through, slowing his escape. He could no longer run, but squirm and push his way through the thick foliage that marked the beginning of the tree line. A few steps further, and then screams reached his ears. What happened? He turned and took a step back the way he came, but hesitated.

It wasn’t just the voices of his friends screaming in the night; something was happening to the teachers as well. He cursed his own cowardice as he turned again and pushed deeper into the woods.

Wind whistled through the trees, their mighty limbs moaning beneath its touch. He was thankful for the relief against the warm night air. Screams followed him, filling his ears, filling his mind with visions of his friends’ faces contorted in agony. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to vomit. He wasn’t alone. Something moved through the branches beside him. He tried to run faster, but the branches snapped at his face, pulled at his shirt. Laughter bounced from the trunks; surrounding him. He turned to look for his tormentor and tripped over an exposed root. His breath left him in a rush as his body crashed into the ground.

Don’t let me die… not here, not like this. He scrambled to his feet, spinning in circles, trying to find the source of the laughter. Why are you doing this to me?

“You are a willful one,” a deep, angelic voice rode on the night air. “What will you do with your newfound freedom?”

“Who are you?” he sobbed. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“If you were a little older,” the voice fell to a whisper. “I would answer that question in explicit detail.”

“What did you do to my friends?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“The screams—” He couldn’t bring himself to elaborate.

“Let’s just say your journey home should be unhindered.”

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

The whisper of branches moving with the breeze was his only answer. Kanati was once again alone with his fears.

* * * *

The stranger slipped further into the shadows, eyeing the young man with interest. Everything happens for a reason. We were destined to meet, you and I, he thought before returning to finish what he started.

Welcome, James! We're glad to have you as part of the SRP family!

Thursday, March 14, 2013

BOY SCOUT, book 2 in the Boys of Perfection series

Geoffrey Knight has done it again! He's brought us yet another kinky, hot tale from the Boys of Perfection series. And what could be more perfect than BOY SCOUT?

Check it out! See "Books" tab for purchasing information.


Welcome to Perfection, California. The year is 1961. The picket fences are white, the lawns are green, and the sprinklers are shiny and new… and Benji the 18-year-old Boy Scout is about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

Yes, Benji dreams of getting his hands on the coveted Happy Beaver Badge, a challenge that requires him to hike up to Mount Pleasant, venture through the Rainbow Forest, cross Lake Serenity and reach the old abandoned Forestfire Station.

But as Benji sets off, looking forward to experiencing the beauty of nature… nature isn’t exactly as welcoming as Benji had hoped. From evil chipmunks to stinky skunks, Benji’s adventure quickly turns into a quest for survival. Luckily for Benji, he meets handsome Mack the Lumberjack who’s willing to give the Boy Scout a helping hand—

—in more ways than one!


It was a good thing the people of Perfection had sprinklers, thought eighteen-year-old Benji the Boy Scout as he strolled down the street whistling in tune with the blue jays. After all, how else could the townsfolk keep their lawns so green, their roses so red, and their bird baths so full when there’s never a cloud in the sky?

“What a wonderful day for a mountain hike.” Benji smiled to himself.

But this was no ordinary day, and the hike he was about to do was no ordinary hike. No sir, Benji was about to undergo one of the greatest challenges in his Scout career—to hike up Mount Pleasant, venture through Rainbow Forest, cross Lake Serenity and reach the old Forest Fire Lookout in order to receive the coveted Happy Beaver Badge. It would take all his strength and stamina, all his courage and problem-solving skills, and all his resourcefulness, but Benji knew he was up to it.

As he walked down the street, he adjusted his backpack with a snap of a strap and tilted his hat back to get a better view of that sky so blue, which allowed a tuft of short blond hair to pop out from under the wide rim. Benji straightened his scarf and thought about how much he loved wearing his uniform, even though a recent growth spurt had made his short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts rather snug. Still, every time he pulled his socks high and tightened his woggle, Benji felt a certain rush of pride that only Boy Scouts know.

That’s when he heard it—the distressed cry of a neighbor.

“Somebody please help me! Please help!”

Benji raced along a row of white picket fences, heading in the direction of the voice until he reached the front gate to Mrs. Delaney’s house.

Mrs. Delaney was standing under her Crab Apple tree, gazing frantically up into its blossoming branches, her white-knuckled hands clutching at her Jackie Kennedy hairdo. As Benji opened the gate, she turned and let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh Benji, thank goodness you heard me! Snuffles is stuck up the tree and can’t get down.”

At the mention of his name, Mrs. Delaney’s fluffy white cat Snuffles let out a frightened meow from a branch. Benji hurried up to the tree, took off his hat and looked up at the cat.

“Don’t worry, Snuffles! I’ll get you down.”

Mrs. Delaney let out a thrilled quiver. “Oh thank you, Benji.” She eyed his strapping young body up and down, pleasantly surprised. “My goodness. When did you become so… heroic?”

Benji blushed a little. “I’m a Boy Scout, Mrs. Delaney. I’m not heroic. I’m just prepared.”

“For what?”

“Anything,” he winked.

With all his strength, he hoisted himself up, gripping onto a lower branch and digging the toe of his hiking boots into the trunk. Mrs. Delaney noticed his snug shorts become even snugger as he stretched his legs and clenched his buttocks.

“Oh, here, let me give you a hand,” she offered, placing both palms flat on his ass cheeks in a token effort to give him a boost.


“My pleasure,” Mrs. Delaney said. And there was that quiver again.

As Benji climbed up through the tree, Snuffles excitedly paced up and down his branch, purring. “Hey there, Snuffles! Time to get you down, huh?”

Taking the cat into his caring yet confident grip, Benji began to descend to the applause of Mrs. Delaney.

“Oh, Benji! Thank you so much.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Benji said after jumping down onto the ground and handing the purring cat back to his owner. “I love all animals. Speaking of which, I’d better hurry. I expect to see lots of cute little critters on my hike up Mount Pleasant.”

“Oh my, yes,” Mrs. Delaney agreed. “And what a lovely day for it. Just be careful you don’t trip on a log and sprain an ankle.”

Benji scooped up his hat. “Oh don’t you worry, Mrs. Delaney, I’ll keep my wits about me. I’m determined to come home to another Scout badge.” With an optimistic grin and a Boy Scout salute, he turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna make that Happy Beaver mine, just you wait and see.”

Mrs. Delaney clutched her pussy tighter. “Oh, I wish,” she breathed with one last sigh.

A few houses down the street, Benji heard the whimper of a puppy and the cry of a panicked woman. “Somebody please help! Come quick, somebody help!”

Benji raced along the street to find Mrs. Winden in her gardening clothes and rubber gloves trying desperately to fight off her out-of-control hose that had managed to tangle her white Labrador. The young dog was whimpering and howling as the hose continued to wrap itself around the poor pooch.

“Oh my!” Benji exclaimed, leaping the picket fence and dashing across the yard.

He pulled off his backpack and hurled his hat across the yard, and with all his courage, he dived onto the wet lawn, sliding up to the distressed dog and tackling the squirting hose.

“Jeepers!” He shouted as water sprayed in his face. “Golly!” He shrieked as it doused his shirt and drenched his tight little shorts. “Goodness gracious!” He coughed and spluttered as the jetting water rushed up his nose.

Nevertheless, he continued to wrestle with the swirling, snaking hose, at the same time using all his problem-solving skills to figure out how to free the tangled dog. He unlooped a slithering coil from around the Lab’s hind leg. He unraveled the gushing hose from around the dog’s waist. He threaded a length of it through a twisting spiral and suddenly the delighted pooch bounded free, barking and jumping and shaking off the water.

“Oh Rex, you’re all right!” Mrs. Winden cried excitedly, only now thinking to turn the hose off at the tap before gazing admiringly at the soaked scout on her lawn.

Wet from head to toe, Benji climbed to his feet while Rex ran happy circles around him.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Winden breathed, her hands distractedly fumbling with the buttons on her summer dress as she stared absently at the young man’s dripping crotch. “Thank you so much, Benji. I had no idea how tall you’ve grown… or how gallant you’ve become.”

Benji fought off another blush. “Oh, I’m not gallant, Mrs. Winden. Just prepared.”

“For what?”


“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Mrs. Winden smiled. “Would you like to come inside and I’ll help you off with those wet clothes before you catch cold?”

“Gosh, thanks for the offer, but I’m in a rush to get my hands on that Happy Beaver.”

“You want to do it with your clothes on?” Mrs. Winden let out with a nervous shudder, touching her hand to her hair to make sure it was perfectly in place… for now. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

“Thanks,” Benji said. And with that he slid on his backpack, put on his hat and continued on his way down the street, leaving Mrs. Winden to utter a single, disappointed—


It wasn’t long before Benji heard another upset cry. Although this time there was no fear or panic in the voice, but rather sadness and grief.

“Why, Mommy? Why did they have to die?”

Benji turned the corner of the street to see little Jimmy Johnson sitting on the curb outside his parents’ house, his mom sitting beside him with her arm around his shoulders. Jimmy had a fishbowl in his lap and was quickly increasing the water level with his tears.

“Hey there, little guy,” Benji said, sitting on the other side of Jimmy in his damp uniform. “What’s the matter?”

Mrs. Johnson looked over the top of her son to Benji and whispered, “Jimmy’s Sea Monkeys have all gone to sleep.”

“They’re not sleeping,” Jimmy wept. “They’re dead! They’re not moving!”

“Jeepers, that doesn’t sound very good,” Benji said. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Jimmy sniffed and handed the bowl to Benji with a pout. “See for yourself.”

Benji held the fishbowl up to the light and looked into the sloshing water, unable to see anything but the pebbles on the bottom of the bowl and a little miniature shipwreck inside. He looked over at Mrs. Johnson and said in a barely audible hush, “I don’t see anything.”

Mrs. Johnson shook her head, covered her son’s ears and said in an even softer voice, “They’re Sea Monkeys. He bought them with a comic book coupon. Everyone knows they don’t actually exist.”

“Oh, I see,” Benji replied before digging deep into his resourceful mind and tapping Jimmy on the shoulder as his mother took her hands away from the boy’s ears.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Jimmy asked, looking up at Benji, his eyes big blue pools of tears.

“Are you kidding? Take a look!”

Benji pointed to the bowl and began tracing the underwater acrobatics of an invisible swimming creature. His eyes lit up, and so did Jimmy’s.

“I see them now. Look at ‘em go!”

“You betcha, kiddo,” Benji nodded, eyes darting between Jimmy and the nothing inside the fishbowl. “They’re doing little loop-de-loops through tiny hula-hoops!”

“I see them! I really do! I thought they were dead!”

Benji shook his head. “No, they weren’t dead. They were just sad.”

“Sad?” Jimmy’s smile faded. “How come?”

“Because they’re out-growing their fishbowl so fast. They need something bigger to swim in.”

“Like the kitchen sink?” Jimmy asked hopefully.

“Bigger,” Benji said.

“Maybe the bath tub?” Jimmy turned to his mother and added, “You won’t get any trouble getting me in the bath if my Sea Monkeys are with me!”

“Bigger,” Benji shook his head.

“What’s bigger than a bath?” Jimmy asked, scratching his head.

“If we set them free, I promise they’ll find a home big enough for all them to swim and play and grow up big and strong, some place where they’ll all live happily ever after.”

“I’ll miss them,” little Jimmy sighed. “But if you say it’ll make them happy… then that makes me happy.”

“I promise,” Benji said. And without another word he tipped the fishbowl upside-down and let the water gush along the gutter and down a nearby drain.

“Bye-bye Sea Monkeys,” Jimmy waved, a little sadly, before excitedly turning to his mother and asking, “Can I get a pet snake?”

“Why don’t you ask your father when he gets home,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Now go play with your toys in the backyard.”

Jimmy nodded and raced away, leaving Mrs. Johnson smiling at Benji. “He’s out playing tennis at the club till noon,” she said, adding by way of explanation, “Mr. Johnson, that is.”

“I love tennis!

“Yes. I imagine you’re rather… athletic.”

“I hope so. I’m after a Happy Beaver.”