Love and the Floppy Musketeer Hat

Romance can blossom in any genre: contemporary, suspense, fantasy, or paranormal. Hank Edwards has dusted off eleven of his favorite Story Orgy tales and gathered them into a brand new collection. For those new to Hank's work, the Story Orgy was a group of authors who crafted stories based on writing prompts. Some of Hank's stories from that time period are already available, such as With This Ring, Mistletoe at Midnight, or Cross Country Foreplay. The stories in this collection have only appeared once on Hank's blog, so if you've been following his work for a while, hopefully you'll enjoy revisiting these freshly edited gems. But if you weren't a Story Orgy follower, kick back and read about love showing up in a wide variety of places.

Excerpt:

From the story Pressure:

A fine autumn sunrise greeted me, and I cracked the kitchen window to let in the crisp air. I set up the coffeepot and then glanced at the wall calendar to see what I had planned for the day. My smile came from nowhere, surprising as it arrived before any caffeine. Written on the day's square was this lovely note: Winslow's Sprinklers.

I had used the same sprinkler service for the last five years, and every year I looked forward to one visit. It wasn't the young, cocky kid who came out to set up the sprinkler system and inspect the heads and make sure everything was aimed right. He was cute, but he wasn't my type. Too young, too brash, just home from college and eager to show off his "guns" and start on his summer tan. Oh, he was fine to look at, and I’d probably giggle like a schoolgirl if he ever gave me a second glance, but I wasn’t into the young hotshots of spring and summer.

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I liked the autumn visit the most. Hal Winslow himself would come to blow the water out of the lines. All the young guys he employed for the summer would have fled our area for college once again, leaving him to close up shop with his customers.

And Hal Winslow was a fine, furry hunk of man beef, just the way I liked 'em.

He was at least six foot four, usually sporting two or three days of red-gold whiskers on his square jaw. Clad in a blue flannel barn coat, faded jeans, and scuffed work boots, he would stomp through the yard, all business, his bright blue eyes noting every nicked mower and misaligned sprinkler head.

And for forty five minutes every autumn, he was all mine.

I showered and dressed butch-casual, hoping to attract Hal's attention. The year before we had talked about how badly the Emerald Ash borer was decimating the trees in our area, Hal looking at the barren branches stretching toward the sky. Then there had been a moment, a quick, quiet pause in the conversation in which our eyes had locked. A flutter had started low in my belly, and I had just opened my mouth to invite him inside for a cup of coffee when his cell phone had rung with an emergency call.

Dammit.

This year, I was determined not to miss my opportunity. I was going to invite Hal in for coffee before we started talking. And maybe I'd offer to blow out his line.

COLLAPSE

A Very Dirty Dozen

Dirty Dozen Series Volume One

A Very Dirty Dozen
Part of the Dirty Dozen series:

Hank Edwards has selected 11 of his favorite stories published in erotic magazines and anthologies, plus 1 never before published story, and grouped them into one collection. Come on in and read such stimulating fiction as "Short Term Parking," "Going Back for Thirds," or "A Heart Full of Scars." You'll meet hot office studs, horny Army men, a couple of divorced Dads, and some lonely cowboys, just to name a few. This is one collection that'll keep you coming back for more!

Excerpt:

From the short story "Weston's Spread":

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” The mattress pitched as Tucker rolled over to face him. “You must be pretty tired.”

“Yeah, I am beat.” Alex still hesitated. Was Tucker naked beneath the blankets? And if so, how could Alex possibly hope to sleep with this man lying nude beside him?

“Come on, buddy,” Tucker coaxed and turned the covers back. “The bed’s warm. Get undressed and get in. You know, you’ll stay warmer if you sleep in the nude.”

Alex pressed his lips together, aware that this was a deciding moment. A tension within him suddenly loosened and a sense of release spread through his chest as he took a breath and stood up. He pulled his arms from his long johns and let them drop to the floor.

Another Very Dirty Dozen

Another Very Dirty Dozen
Part of the Dirty Dozen series:

Hank Edwards has selected another 11 of his steamy short stories previously published in erotic magazines and anthologies, plus 1 never before published story, and grouped them into one collection. Come on in and read such stimulating fiction as "A Good Ten Inches," "Backseat Driver," or "Maul Santa." You'll meet horny Daddies-next-door, a studly Santa, a hot-blooded amusement park mechanic, and one heck of a dirty automobile technician, just to name a few. Grab tight to this second collection of hot, sizzling stories that'll keep you coming back for more!

Excerpt:

From the short story "Frisk":

Starting with my ankles, he slowly, carefully frisked me, being careful around the transmitter and very thorough every place else. When he got to my crotch, he placed a large, warm palm directly over my almost fully erect cock and squeezed slightly. As he measured the size and rigidity inside my pants, his eyes darted up to meet mine and I felt a high voltage spark of attraction arc between us. My cock sprang up into full readiness and he dragged his palm along its length as he stood to frisk the upper half of my body.

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Straith squeezed each muscle in my arms, gauging its tone and firmness like a personal trainer. His hands cupped my damp armpits, digging into them as his eyes remained locked on mine. He was inches from my face; I could feel his breath on my cheek and watched his lips part to expose the tip of his wide, pink tongue. His hands moved over my chest and his thumbs pressed down slightly over the center of my nipples. My stomach quivered as his fingers slid down along my waist and then over my belly, his fingertips leaving traces of heat in their wake.

COLLAPSE