Hi! Today I’m delighted to welcome my good friend, Lynn Lorenz, to the blog. Lynn is not only a pal, she’s been an inspiration and a mentor to me over the last 5 years. I adore her books and love her. If you’ve never read one of Lynn’s books, you’re in for a huge treat. This series is quite amazing. It’s medieval gay romance and Lynn handles it with sensitivity, historical accuracy, and lots of yumminess! Be sure to enter on the Rafflecopter to win  the entire series! Plus, very exciting is the fact that there’s a new book coming in this series called Silent Lodge.  Watch for it in December! Read on –

 Book Names: The Mercenary’s Tale, Jackson’s Pride, Baymore’s Heir, His Duke’s Gift

Series: In The Company of Men

Books: One through Five

 Release Date: September 2015 – December 2015

Blurb(s):

The Mercenary’s Tale – Drake is a mercenary for hire. He values little other than his sword and his skill. Fighting his attraction to the young men he trains, he refuses to take any on. When Ansel walks into his life, Drake breaks all his rules.

But life for mercenaries is hard, brutal and deadly.
Can Drake take a chance on finding the love he’s denied himself for so long?
Can he have a second chance?

Jackson’s Pride – Jackson has been called to attend his father, Lord Baymore. The man has never claimed Jackson as his son and Jackson believes this might be his father’s intent. He’s left the Duke of Marden’s employ to discover his destiny—to remain a nameless bastard or to claim his father’s name.

When Jackson stumbles across a man, stripped, beaten, and left in a field to die a slow death, Jackson rescues the man. After all, he’s guilty of the same thing—wanting a man.
Will Holcombe gambled and lost. His meeting with a young, willing man went horribly wrong, and now he must pay for it with his life.
Until a man walks up to him in a frozen field and cuts him down.
Jackson is like no one Will has ever met before—a man strong enough to stand with him, perhaps forever.
But Jackson’s on a mission. Will his pride blind him to what his life could be if he chose Will and not his father?
Or will his pride lead him to a fate worse than death?

Baymore’s Heir – Duke Jackson of Baymore finally has all he’s ever wanted—his name, a title, and the man he loves by his side. Lord Will Holcombe couldn’t be happier. He’s Jackson’s lover, best friend, and manages all of Jackson’s affairs. For two years, their life together, although deadly if anyone knew of their forbidden love, has been perfect.

Until Jackson the day when decides the one thing he needs is an heir.
And the one person to find him a wife is Will.

Silent Lodge – Drake and Logan are worried about their friend and captain of the guard, Peter. After the death in childbirth of Peter’s wife, he’s a changed man. Unfocused, lonely, and devastated, Peter needs a new challenge, instead of going through the motions of living.

Logan sends Peter on a mission – to discover Duke Weathersby’s plans for invasion. Logan’s father has a small hunting lodge near the border of their lands, and it has a caretaker. Peter sets off alone, to make camp at the lodge and do some scouting.

But what he finds at the lodge just may be his future. Arvel is a fascinating young man. Red haired, deaf and mute from a fever as a child, he’s been living in the lodge and caring for it for years. It’s a safe haven for him. But he’s not alone. He has a protector, Gareth.

When Gareth, Arvel and Peter are together, sparks fly. Arvel belongs to Gareth, but he wants Peter too. Can Peter join their small family? And if he does, will he always be the third to their couple?

His Duke’s Gift – In this Yuletide story, Duke Logan is preparing the keep for the holiday. Twelve nights of feasting and gift giving to those in his favor. Gifts must be made or bought. Once mercenary Drake struggles to think of just the right gift for his love and liege, and for their sons.

Something isn’t right. A stranger has arrived at the keep and Logan refuses to let Drake into his bedroom at night. Angry and frustrated, Drake fears Logan has lost his love for the mercenary.

When the Twelfth night arrives, and Drake has received no gift, he begins to think he might need to take his son and leave what has become his home.

Exclusive Excerpt:

It’s Yule, and Duke Logan is readying his keep for the holiday. Twelve days of feasting and gift-giving. Drake and the boys are looking forward to it and rushing to find the perfect gifts. But a stranger has arrived at the keep, and Logan won’t let Drake into his bedroom. As Drakes confusion grows, so does his ire.

 

I dressed in my riding leathers. After pulling on my boots, I placed two shirts in my saddle bags, along with a small coin purse and a few personal supplies.

Standing in the middle of the room, I gazed around at it as if seeing it for the last time. That time might come, but it wasn’t now. I kneeled by the bed and checked that Logan’s gift still remained hidden.

It had been five nights, and my name had not been called to receive the duke’s favor. We’d never spoken of when we’d give our gifts, but I’d assumed it would be on Twelfth Night. At first I hadn’t worried about it, but now, after knowing of Duncan’s visits to Logan’s room, I wondered if there would be a gift.

Logan wouldn’t dare to shame me in front of the entire keep, I was sure of it. Still, a grain of doubt remained. I swept it away. I had more to worry about than that, and I knew if I let the grain grow I could think of a dozen horrible scenarios.

I took my broadsword down from the wall where it hung and slung it over my back. That done, my short sword at my hip, there was no longer a reason to tarry.

I left my room and crossed to the boys’. Joss and Tomas were awake and dressing. Joss helped Tomas into his boots as the younger boy patted his head, either to bother Joss or as a show of affection, I couldn’t tell. But the warm light in his eyes led me to believe it was the latter.

“Joss.” I stood in the doorway.

My son looked up at me, smiled, then frowned. “Da, where are you going?”

“I have a mission to see to, son. I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“But it’s Twelfth Night!” he cried. “You can’t go now.”

“My duty comes at all times and hours, lad. I must away.” I kneeled and he ran to me, flinging himself into my arms. He buried his face in my neck as I held him tight.

“I’ll miss you.” His sweet voice muffled against my shoulder.

“I shall miss you. Terribly.” I held him from me. “Look after Tomas and be good for Logan.”

“Joss is always well behaved.” Logan’s voice came from behind me.

I gave Joss a kiss on his cheek, ruffled his hair, and stood. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. I stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

And faced the man who’d been hiding from me for five days.

“Where are—” Logan started, but I took his face in my hand and pushed him against the wall. The corridor stood empty.

I crushed my body against his, ground my cock into his, and took his mouth with a punishing kiss. When he whimpered and opened for me, I pulled away to whisper, “Duncan best be gone and the door unlocked when I return, or I’ll be the one leaving.”

With a swipe of my thumb across his bottom lip, I left him leaning against the wall and strode down the hall to the stairs. I took them two at a time, grabbed my cloak, and tossed it over my shoulders on my way to the courtyard, where my horse waited, as I had ordered earlier.

The groom held Horse’s reins as he snorted and stamped, breath blowing in great misty clouds from flared nostrils, ears pinned back on his head, and eyes rolling.

“I see you’re ready, Horse.” I flung my saddlebags over his rump and tied them down, then leaped up into the saddle. The groom tossed me the reins and darted away.

Peter ran out of the barracks. “Drake!” He skidded to a stop next to Horse. “Drake, where away?”

“I ride to inspect the outposts along the river.” Horse danced, his hooves clattering on the cobblestones and echoing off the walls.

“How long?” Peter looked up at me, concern in his eyes.

“As long as it takes. I’ll return soon.” With that, I looked up to the guards and called out, “Open the gates!”

“Drake!” Logan’s voice rang out.

The men pulled the gates apart, and when they were wide enough for us to pass, I kicked Horse, and he lunged through them.

We flew down the road to Marden as if hellhounds nipped at our heels. I was halfway to town before we slowed, and I looked back.

If I had stayed, it would have been the end of me.

This way, when I returned, I’d know whether I was welcomed or not.

Whether the place I now called home would still be home.

Whether I should take my boy and leave.

 

Another Cool Excerpt:

Ansel lowered himself with effort to the ground and leaned back on his saddle. From across the fire I could tell he still ached. I rummaged in my saddlebag and found the vial of oil I used to keep my leathers supple. It would work for Ansel’s back.

“That’s enough moaning from you. Take off your shirt and stretch out; I’m giving you a rubdown before you become so stiff you can’t move.” It came out more like an order, and Ansel obeyed.

He unlaced his leather vest, removed it, and then with careful motions, pulled his shirt over his head. Smooth chest met my gaze, lean muscles and wide shoulders. Dark hair trailed down his stomach to disappear beneath the strings of his breeches.

“Lay on your belly.” It was not the wisest thing I’d ever done, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. In truth, I wanted to touch him.

He stretched out on his cloak, his smooth broad back to me, arms over his head. There were no scars on his back or on his chest. Hidden scars, indeed.

He turned his head and looked up at me as I stood over him, his eye reflecting the firelight. I kneeled and straddled his hips. As I settled my weight on him, he gave a small grunt.

“Not too heavy for you?” I poured some of the oil from the vial and worked it over my hands.

“No.” He watched as I spread the oil between my fingers.

At the first touch of my hands on his skin, he shuddered. I smiled as his eye caught mine, then he closed it, giving me a ghost of a smile.

My hands roved over his back, lightly at first, then I increased the pressure as I pressed into his muscles, working them like a woman kneads bread dough. His smooth skin glistened in the firelight as my oiled hands glided across. Despite my best intentions, I grew hard as I touched him. Damn me, but I’d longed to do this. For his part, his breathing deepened and I could feel his chest expanding with each inhale. Was he as hard as I was? If so, it must have been uncomfortable to have his cock pressed into the hard ground.

I slid back, moving lower to sit at the tops of his thighs, his round buttocks firm in front of me. I rocked forward and back as I rubbed, pressing my hardness against him, watching for his reaction.

Part of me wanted to go further and part of me wanted him to tell me to stop. He never made a sound or moved.

“Roll over.” I stood, still straddling him.

Ansel pushed himself over, and I gazed down at the bulge in his breeches, long and hard. My eyes traveled to his face. No sign of shame, just that calm, steady gaze of his telling me to continue. He lay there, propped on his elbows, and looked up at my own hard bulge, then he slid flat to the ground.

I went down on my knees and sat across his hips, trapping his rod beneath me, a hard lump against my stones. Pouring more oil into my hands, I began to rub his shoulders, working my way to the sharp planes of his chest. His eyes were shut, and his mouth held that vague smile. I ran my thumbs across his small, dark nipples, resisting urges I didn’t want to give in to.

He hissed in a deep breath and held it as my thumbs played with those sharp points. Circling them first one way, then another, I showed him no mercy. For myself, I could feel my own nipples harden and ache under my shirt. At last, I stopped my torture, and he sighed, letting his breath out in a slow exhale. Damn, I wanted to take one of those sharp points in my mouth and make him moan for me.

Moving lower, I worked my hands over his taut stomach muscles and the tender, purple bruises I’d given him. He winced only once.

I rocked forward on his rod and he moaned. By all the gods, it sounded so good to my ears that I did it again. And again. My sac tightened as my rod swelled.

I lowered my body closer, rocked my hardness against his, and felt his responding push back. Supporting my body with my hands on his chest, all pretense of rubbing sore muscles was gone. I set a steady rhythm and pressed harder.

Ansel’s hands reached up and took my hips, pulling them tighter, his hips answering. He eyes were very dark, wide open, and locked with mine. Sliding over his chest, my hands ran down his arms, locked fingers with his, and pulled them from my hips and over his head. I stretched my clothed body against his bare chest and pumped.

His breath came ragged and his moans louder. My face was mere inches from his. This was it. If I lowered my mouth to his, I’d be kissing a man. Then I thought, we were two layers of cloth from fucking, what was a kiss? Merely damnation.

As if he’d read my mind, his lips parted and he closed his eyes. Unable to resist, I covered his mouth with mine and slammed my rod against him. I thrust faster now, even as my tongue entered his mouth to dance with his tongue, exchanging our tastes. He was as sweet tasting as any woman I’d kissed.

When he groaned into my mouth, I could feel it in my chest. I rocked faster and pressed harder. His legs widened, to give me more room, and I pumped harder. Sucking his tongue into my mouth, I held it captive. A groan ripped his lips from mine as he arched his back, his entire body tensed, and his hands clenched mine. I felt the jerking of his cock beneath me as he spilled and almost joined him.

With a shudder, he opened his eyes and looked into mine.

“Damn.” I smiled.

“Damn.” He smiled and licked his lips. I watched his tongue make a pass over the top and then the bottom, and then disappear inside. I wanted to take it in my mouth again.

Instead, freeing his hands, I rolled off him and sat against my saddle.

He propped himself up on one elbow, dipped his fingers beneath his breeches and pulled them out. They shone in the light, his cream covering them. Gods, I wondered what it would taste like.

“I should clean up.” He stood, went to his bag, rummaged in it, and came up with a bit of cloth. Wiping himself, he dropped the rag on the ground and came back to the fire.

I watched him as he stood in front of me.

“You’re still needing.” He kneeled, locked eyes with me, and pushed my knees apart. My rod strained against my breeches, so any denial would be seen for the lie it was.

When he reached for my strings, I should have said something, such as “Stop” or “Don’t touch me,” but we’d gone too far for false words.

His fingers made short work of the strings and he sat back. Without my shifting, my rod would remain firmly in place. There could be no more pretenses; if I wanted him, I had to move. I took a breath, shifted, pushed my breeches open, pulled the string of my trews, and freed my cock.

It stood tall, thick and long, dark with blood, as I took it in my already slick hand and greeted it like an old friend, with a slow, long stroke. Ansel’s gaze never left my hand as he moved closer.

“Let me.” He reached for my rod, and our fingers touched as he covered my hand with his. Together we glided over my quivering shaft, his fingers picking up traces of oil. Prickles of pleasure danced through my body, settling in my sac.

I slipped my hand from under his, sat back, and watched as his hand pleasured me. I’d held back before he’d released, but now it would be much harder with his hand wrapped around the bared shaft of my cock.

And what pleasure he gave me, like none I’d had before. He knew just how I needed to be touched, just how to stroke long, then fast and short, then long and squeeze the tip. I had to grit my teeth to keep from moaning as each stroke brought me closer to the cliffs of release. I wanted more. I wanted to possess him, own him, and make him mine in every way.

“Lick me.” My voice was quiet, deep, commanding.

Without a word, he lowered his head. I watched as his tongue made a long, slow pass over the blood-swollen tip, pulling a moan from me. He licked under the rim of my rod’s head and I moaned again.

Who possessed whom?

 

Buy the book:

 Mercenary’s Tale   http://www.amazon.com/Mercenarys-Tale-Company-Men-Book-ebook/dp/B012F6H6VM

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-themercenary039stale-1867272-340.html

Baymore’s Heir http://www.amazon.com/Baymores-Heir-Company-Men-Book-ebook/dp/B015LGA598

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-baymore039sheir-1897864-340.html

Jackson’s Pride http://www.amazon.com/Jacksons-Pride-Company-Men-Book-ebook/dp/B0143O2B7S

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-jackson039spride-1881912-161.html

Meet the author:

Lynn Lorenz is an award-winning and best-selling author of over 30 gay romances. She lives in Texas, where she’s a fan of all things Texan, like Longhorns, big hair, and cowboys in tight jeans. She’s never met a comma she didn’t like, and enjoys editing and brainstorming with other writers. Lynn spends most of her time writing about hot sex with even hotter heroes, plot twists, werewolves, and medieval swashbucklers. She’s currently at work on her latest book, making herself giggle and blush, and avoiding all the housework.

Where to find the author:

http://www.lynnlorenz.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lynn.lorenz.58

Twitter: @lynnlorenz

 Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1496392.Lynn_Lorenz

Publisher: Hartwood Publishing

Cover Artist: Georgia Woods

Tour Dates & Stops:

10-Nov: Elin Gregory, BFD Book Blog

12-Nov: Up All Night, Read All Day, Tara Lain

17-Nov: Divine Magazine, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

19-Nov: Molly Lolly

24-Nov: Velvet Panic, Havan Fellows, Inked Rainbow Reads

26-Nov: Lee Brazil, Jessie G. Books

1-Dec: Love Bytes, The Novel Approach

3-Dec: Bayou Book Junkie, MM Good Book Reviews

 

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