It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from The Chanteuse and the Bodyguard, Campo Royale #5, releasing in 2023.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
His lips flattened before he spoke. “Not great. It’s close to ten days that we’ll be apart but now that you’re on the job I’m not so worried. Besides, the jerk who’s tormenting him will be here and Eli will be on the west coast. That’s a plus, right?”
“It is.” I couldn’t deny that. Unless Birdman somehow found out about the trip that was…I took the ginger ale from Tyr and stalked up to the two elated queens. Eli saw me, hooted, and gave me a large hug, spilling ginger ale over my fingers. Duri took a step, halted, and then smiled that gorgeous smile of his up at me. “Congratulations both of you.” I handed the sticky glass to Eli who blew a kiss to Tyr coming up behind me. “Please don’t say a word about this trip on social media.”
Eli’s face fell. I suspected my volatile client would come a little unglued about sitting on this big news. It took about five seconds for the shit to hit the fan. Good thing I was used to ducking and weaving. While Eli vented and raged, wept and wailed, I stood to the side, my arms crossed, legs slightly spread, waiting for him to run out of gas. It took several minutes but he finally petered out, tossing himself into Tyr’s arms to whimper.
“I am sorry but if your stalker finds out he’d be able to follow us,” I explained as gently as possible. Duri sighed but nodded. Eli sniffled, pouted, and kicked a slipper across the room. It landed by the bathroom door with a tiny thud. I glanced from it to my principle. “Again, I am sorry. Once the event is over and we’re home then you can talk about it all you want.”
“I hate being the object of so many men’s affections!” Eli grumbled then blew his nose in a very unladylike manner. The door burst open. I spun to face it, sighing in relief when Yampier and Mother Sitka blew in, both clapping madly.
“Congratulations! Oh my sweet little sparrows. Come give mother a kiss. You two are going west!” Sitka said, opening her arms for her two girls.