Today is Yule and tonight is the longest night of the year. In many ways, this was the inspiration for my new release, Deepest Night. The longest night heralds the coming of more sun, more warmth and eventually the coming of Spring. What happens when you think your life has gone dark in the worst ways – until someone brings back the warmth and love to it?

This story is also the prequel to my Bran’s Visions series. A celtic rock band that was on the pinnacle but is now beset by problems they may or may not be able to overcome.

My story is part of ManLoveRomance’s Holiday 2011 series of releases – there are great stories to be found every day of the holiday season!

Buy my story from MLR at: http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=MADEEPKN

Blurb:

Photographer Jake Harrison is only trying to please the boss when he agrees to brave the holiday airport crush to pick up a visiting friend of the Bran’s Visions lead-singer, Colen Cassidy. Al turns out to be Alrek Heggryd, a noted mandolin player who retired from performing very suddenly several years ago amid rumors of catastrophic health issues. In addition to working as the benefit concert’s second photographer, Jake finds himself playing chauffer and guide to the sexy Norwegian until his efforts to keep a respectful distance fall to Alrek’s onslaught.

I am not willing to discuss the details but you can certainly Google the publisher and see the public posts of the various happenings.

This is very sad for me since AMP was my first fiction publisher and I’ve been with them since the beginning.

Title: Impressed
Author: Maura Anderson
Length: 10 Minute Short
Genre: M/M Steampunk

Buy it now at MLR Press!

Blurb:
Chief Warrant Officer Micajah Jamison’s focus on duty and career has only barely covered over his loneliness since his ex-lover, Captain Harland Norman, had decided they could not be together if Cage wouldn’t resign his American Airship Navy commission and take up a British commission instead. Now, for the first time in six years, Cage has a lay-by in the Port of Honolulu and decides to seek out company for the evening. Only his visit to the Persimmon, a very private men’s club, doesn’t end the way he’d hoped it would when he awakens in chains.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Cage stepped out of the boarding house he’d taken a room in, one of the less disreputable ones in this section of Honolulu, and carefully blended into the stream of bodies flowing down the worn wooden pedestrianway. A frisson of excitement-or trepidation, perhaps-heated his belly. Six long years since he’d last visited Honolulu port, but the smells and sounds brought back the events of his last visit as if it were yesterday. The memory of the most intense pair of peridot-green eyes he’d ever seen sent a pang of loneliness through him. Harlan’s eyes.

He could do nothing about the British airship captain and the fact their loyalties were at odds, even if their bodies were in exact agreement. Pining for him did no good, though he’d tried for a while, but it was time to put aside his obsession with the other man and move on with his life. To help that cause along, he’d made sure he had time to look for some temporary companionship during this lay-up. He needed someone to take the edge off the loneliness that seemed to envelop him like a cloak these days, even if only for a few hours.

Eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, even under the unfashionably wide brim of his palm fiber hat, Cage pressed himself against the railing of the narrow pedestrianway to dodge a weaving pair of men making their way down the street past him. Despite the thick miasma of wood and coal smoke, not to mention the faint, sweet tang of opium, he could tell the two had not even taken the time to bathe before seeking out the seedier areas of the airship port and each other.

If their frequent pauses to grope and exchange clumsy, wet kisses were anything to go by, the two men didn’t seem to be at all bothered by either their own odor or the amusement of a few of the more interested onlookers. They disappeared into the doorway of the by-the-hour boarding house several doors back. The scarred wooden door swung out and quickly back shut again after admitting the two men.

A breeze would have been welcome to clear away the remaining musk of their sweaty uniforms. Wool wasn’t the best choice in the tropics at the most temperate of times, and today was far from temperate. The few natives foolish enough to be out in the thick heat of day were dressed in loose linen for comfort in the summer heat. Unfortunately, Cage was not free to go as simply dressed as the natives. Even out of uniform, there were regulations that must be obeyed.

Cage eased back into the press of traffic. A strong shove pinned him back against the pitted brass railing; the impact almost but not quite disguised the feel of fingers easing into the pocket of his civilian overcoat. A quick grab gained him possession of the thin wrist of a Hawaiian urchin attempting to pick his pocket. Unrepentant, if not overly skilled, the small boy twisted out of his grip and disappeared into the crowd, bare feet silent on the boards of the pedestrian way. He would likely seek out a more lucrative-and less aware-victim, since Cage’s pockets were already empty before the pickpocket struck. Only a fool kept his papers or money anywhere accessible in this port.

Careful to slouch a bit and avoid any military mannerisms he could, Cage wiped his sweaty forehead with a plain handkerchief before he tucked it back into his sleeve. He made sure to scuff the heels of his boots on his way to the establishment he frequented here in Honolulu as well. There were no signs or advertisement for the Persimmon Palace, not even an address. Just a door you had to know the location of and a man on guard against those without membership or sponsorship.

The doorman was the same huge native man he’d seen on duty for over a decade. He still didn’t know the doorman’s name or whether he was even able to talk. His dress remained the same as well. He wore a pale linen tunic, loose trousers and palm fiber sandals. They were clean but never varied in style or color. The doorman could have been a stone statue if he’d only had more expression on his face.

“Mr. Kamaka is expecting me.” Cage removed his hat and waited while the doorman assessed him as if he’d never seen him before. Dark, suspicious eyes slowly ran from the top of his tousled curly brown hair to the toes of his worn boots.

Cage had been careful to wear no part of his American Airship Navy uniform, nothing that would cause word to go back to his commanders and nothing that would cause problems with any representatives of navies of various other countries. Few things were as frowned on as those who caused too much official attention from foreign powers in the neutral Kingdom of Hawaii, and Mr. Kamaka, the owner, was known to quickly do whatever was necessary to remove that attention from the Persimmon, no matter the reason it had happened in the first place.

Finally the doorman gave a curt nod and stepped aside to open the door to the Persimmon just wide enough for Cage to slip through before shutting it firmly behind him.
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the Persimmon’s entry after the bright sunlight outside. The very air seemed cleaner and less oppressive than that outside. The strong scent of beeswax overlaid a much more subtle note of scotch, cigars and the musk of sex. The combination filled Cage’s nostrils and sparked a slow burn of lust. His cock twitched in anticipation behind the buttons of his trousers. It had been long-far too long-since he’d fucked another man. Too much pain and sorrow dampened by focusing just on ship, duty and career left no time for sexual hungers to be satisfied.

The small entryway was a remarkable contrast to the seedy area of the port the Persimmon was located in. All four walls were paneled in polished bamboo, set with multiple rows of small, ornate brass rectangles gleaming in the gaslights that shone through alabaster shades. Even the brass tubing and fittings that fed the gaslights were polished to a warm glow.

Cage stepped to the low counter to the left of the entry and set his hat down in front of the attendant. In contrast to the doorman, this native was slender and wearing little more than a thin pair of trousers and a garland of leaves. The attendant said nothing and just waited, one hand under the countertop, until Cage slowly reached into his breast pocket, pulled out his token and handed it to the attendant. The small polished copper disk was embossed with the silhouette of an intact persimmon on one side and a cut persimmon’s star shaped interior on the other.

His sponsor had told him that failure to produce the token could be punished by his death and the quiet disappearance of his body. No warning, no quarter. If you lost your token or had it stolen from you, you had to plead with your sponsor to procure another for you, if they were able to.

The attendant accepted the token, examined it carefully in the gaslight’s reddish illumination, and finally nodded and smiled at Cage. “Thank you, sir. Welcome back to the Persimmon Palace and I hope you have the visit you desire.”

“Thank you.”

The attendant stepped out from behind the counter to deftly assist Cage with the removal of his overcoat. A press of one of the ornate brass switches and a section of wall paneling popped open to reveal a single valet and hat rack. The attendant hung the inexpensive overcoat on the valet with more care than it actually warranted, then hung Cage’s hat on the hook and placed Cage’s token in a small fitting set inside the hidden door.

Cage never had determined how the attendant knew just which cupboard contained his outerwear, but he’d never seen a mistake occur.

Formalities dispensed with, the attendant reached under the counter and seemed to press a hidden switch. After a moment or two, a disguised door opened in the wall opposite the counter. Low voices and baritone laughter wafted out on a breeze of masculine lust. The usually pervasive smell of opium was almost remarkable for its absence. It was not permitted in the Persimmon.

For a brief moment, a memory of Harland in his bronze silk waistcoat, fine white linen shirt and snug-fitting buff trousers made a pang of sorrow and a flash of anger surge through Cage. It would torture him to see Harland with another man, even though he knew he could not have the British captain, no matter the all-consuming lust between them.

It was just as well that the odds of Harland being at the Persimmon today were so close to zero they almost didn’t bear thinking about. The British Airship Navy was known to be deeply engaged in battles for parts of their Indian colonies, so he’d have no reason to be laying to here in Honolulu. Every man was needed on the front lines by the British navy.

Maybe Cage could find another ginger-haired man to exchange pleasures with tonight.

Squaring his shoulders and making no attempt to disguise his half-hard cock, Cage walked into the inner-sanctum of the Persimmon and the pleasures he’d been anticipating for months.

Then my oldest son joined the Army. Yep – I’m an Army Mom. Regardless of what I feel about any particular choices of our government, I have a huge amount of love and respect for our military and those who volunteer to serve our country. I find Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell especially heartbreaking and I had already had a germ of the idea for Forsake Not for a while but when I heard MLR Press was going to produce an anthology for Veteran’s Day this year based around Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, I had to submit Forsake Not.

The anthology is available TODAY from MLR Press. I’m sure it will appear on other sites soon but it’s out NOW! And, as always, I’d love to hear what you think!

Blurb:
Our men and women in uniform sacrifice daily to serve our country. But what about the additional, voluntary sacrifice that each gay person in the military makes daily when they don their uniform? We ask these men and women to not only serve their country but serve in silence and denial, sacrificing not only their physical lives but their emotional ones too by denying them their right to love. Four talented authors weave tales that describe how living a lie pulls at the hearts and souls of good servicemen, whose only desire is to do their duty to their country…honorably. In AFTERBURNER, two fighter pilots let their hearts soar despite regulations. THE LOSS OF INNOCENCE STORE provides a glimpse into the U.S. Army prior to the institutionalization of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. A sniper and infantryman find that love eases the pain of being forsaken in FORSAKE NOT. And STRATEGIC MANEUVERS reveals the intricate steps that can lead to love while in uniform.

Here’s a new excerpt for you to enjoy.

Forsake Not
(c) 2010 by Maura Anderson

Leo jolted awake, bolted upright and reached out for his gun only to realize it wasn’t there. Hell, he wasn’t in his hootch at all. He wasn’t in Iraq anymore or even his base barracks. He rubbed his dry, scratchy eyes and forced them to focus on the sterile hotel room he’d rented, as his pulse slowed to a less panicked rate. A quick scan of the room showed nothing amiss. Why had he woken up?

Right.

He was in the hotel near Arlington he’d checked into yesterday when he’d decided to stay in Virginia instead of doing what he usually did on leave; hanging about on base. At least it was one of the longer-stay hotels, so he had a small kitchen and sitting room as well as a bedroom. It made it seem a little more like a home, however temporary— not that he’d really had one of those since the day after his high school graduation. The same day he’d enlisted in the Army. The same day he’d come out to his father who’d immediately disowned him, and hadn’t spoken or communicated with him since. As far as his father was concerned now, he had never existed, and if he had other relatives, he didn’t know them.

A wave of loneliness swept through him. The Army had become his focus and it seemed strange to be off-base and out of his normal life. The life he’d sacrificed a lot for, but the life that gave him a purpose and a feeling that he could make a difference. The life that might be ripped away because of one stupid loss of control. He needed to get his head on straight and he wanted to be near Terry until he had some idea of what was going to happen after his attack on Barker, and his announcement that he was gay. To hell with getting tricked into violating Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell; no one had even had to trick him or ask, he’d nearly screamed his secret out instead. It seemed like a smart idea to not be near the base, or his fellow soldiers, right now.

God, he was a fucking moron.

Leo dropped his head into his hands and groaned. How could he have been so stupid? His cell phone chirped from across the room, and Leo’s head jerked upright. What the hell? No one ever seemed to call him—no one that was still living, anyway. Maybe the battery was low or something.

He tossed the covers off his legs and eased out of bed, stiff despite spending the night on a bed more comfortable than he’d even seen in six months, let alone slept in. The rough skin of his boot-worn bare feet caught on the commercial grade carpet as he walked over to retrieve his phone. The display showed one missed call and a message, but he didn’t recognize the phone number listed. Maybe it was a wrong number.

Leo pressed the button to retrieve his voicemail and stretched a bit while he waited through the stock voicemail greeting. When prompted, he pressed the button to play the recorded message.
“Lion, it’s Star. Sorry to interrupt your leave but I wanted to let you know I overheard Barker saying he reported the bar incident and what you said about being a fag to the CO today.” A long pause and Star continued, sounding a bit hesitant. “The team is behind you, you know. We have your six. Barker is a worthless ‘git and should be shot by someone— not necessarily the enemy either. I’ll let you know more as I get any intel. Later.”

Oh, crap. It had happened. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Maybe he could just lie and say he wasn’t gay at all; that he’d just said it to piss off Barker because he’d insulted a dead friend and teammate. It would be his word against Barker’s then, and the team would probably back him. No one trusted Barker anyway. God, but he hated lying, and he hated making other people lie for him even more.

But if he admitted he was gay, his career was down the crapper. He’d get discharged and not only would he be alone, he wouldn’t have the Army or the job he loved either.

Why the fuck had he been so stupid?

BUY IT HERE!

I’m so pleased to finally be able to announce that the Hot Comfort anthology is finally available from Manlove Romance Press!

This print anthology includes my two stories – Bittersweet and Giving Thanks – as well as stories by Jet Mykles, Kimberly Gardner and Luisa Prieto.

You can see more about this great anthology at ManLove Romance Press’s website.