89° Allen Walker - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 89°

90° Matthew Davis - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 90°

91° Timothy Olyphant - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 91°

93° Amaury Nolasco (-14)

    Classement 2010 - 93° / Classement 2009 - 79°

MTM — The Second Coming: Jed Fest

    Sorry I’ve been gone so long.

    I spent the last couple of weeks before my return to work working on Breaking Point with the religious zeal. It was glorious to do nothing but write, truly glorious. That’s the life I want. I have to say it felt very busy, even though all I was doing was going for walks, making meals and writing.

    Last Monday, I went back to work. Everyone was fantastic and very helpful. Although I thought I was ready, I found it much more exhausting than I’d realized, and I spent a lot of this weekend sleeping.

    But last week was a crappy week for reasons having nothing to do with going back to work. It was the Week of Homeowners Hell.

    Sunday night as I was doing laundry and rushing to finish Chapter 24, my main sewer line backed up into my downstairs bathroom. I was sitting within sight of it and just sat there staring, unable to believe what I was seeing. I stopped the washer, which stopped the flooding, then I threw towels on the water, called a plumber, called my parents and sat down on the couch and cried. (Yes, very effective technique.) My parents cleaned up the mess — God bless them! I'm still not up to that — and the plumber found a giant wad of thick, blond hair in the pipe. (Where did that come from?)

    Monday involved going back to work, calling the carpet cleaners and.... Buying a new refrigerator because my fridge broke. Yes! Bonus!

    On Friday, the carpet cleaners came and made my cream white carpet look like new. And my new fridge arrived — but was about two inches too wide for the space. Who knew fridges came in different sizes?

    I had spent about an hour getting everything out of the old fridge, and it wasn’t easy. The most painful thing these days is bending over. I doesn’t hurt to bend; it hurts to stand upright again. That unhealed bone graft at C5/6 shifts just the tiniest bit, and it flipping hurts. So getting stuff out of the fridge was not fun or easy. Putting it all back in again when the delivery guys drove away with my new fridge was even worse.

    Then I had to go find a skinnier version of that model, which should be here on Friday again. Fortunately, this time I’m going to have help from one of my gangsta BFFs, who promised even to feed me grapes (hopefully not the shriveled ones at the bottom of my veggie crisper) while unloading my old fridge.

    All of this is a way of explaining my prolonged absence, though truly I don’t think there's anything more interesting I could post here than the cover to Breaking Point and the excerpt.

    Unless it’s several photos of Jed Hill...

    I hope these photos bring a rush of estrogen to your Monday. And thank you to all of you for your e-mails, messages, letters and cards during these past two months while I’ve been recuperating. They meant so much to me.

    I probably won’t be around much during the next four weeks as I work to get Breaking Point written, polished and in to my editor. I would hate for you all to have to wait longer for the book. July is far away enough as it is.

94° James Blake - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 94°

95° Aitor Mateo (- 27)

    Classement 2010 - 95° / Classement 2009 - 68°

97° Caio Cesar - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 97°

98° Brody Boyd - Entrée 2010

    Classement 2010 - 98°

Class Man 2010 - Saison 2: le classement

    Chad Pinther

    Jed Hill

    Sean Faris

    Nicolas Cazale

    Nick Ayler

    James Lafferty

    David Williams

    Raphael Hildebrand

    Joseph Sayers

    Jake Gyllenhaal

    Keanu Reeves

    Ricky Martin

    Jude Law

    Enrique Iglesias

    Radoslav Vanko

    Mateus Verdelho

    Romain Duris

    Benjamin Godfre

    Yoann Gourcuff

    Carlos Bernard

    Victor Webster

    Edilson Nascimento

    Jensen Ackles

    David Kimmerle

    Enrique Murciano

    Marco Dapper

    David Charvet

    Colin Farrell

    Eddie Cibrian

    Paul Francis

    Hugh Jackman

    Kyle Tringer

    Josh Duhamel

    Ben Affleck

    Leo Giamani

    Matt Stone

    Andres Velencoso

    Matan Shalev

    Luke Guldan

    Gaston Justin

    Matt Schiermeier

    Derrek Diamond

    Brandon Beemer

    Ryan Kwanten

    Sean Sullivan

    Dustin Moss

    Ygor Pignatari

    Justin Clynes

    James Franco

    Rib Hillis

    Jesse Metcalfe

    Pavel Novotny

    Nicholas Baggetta

    Dario Beck

    Tyler lough

    Tyson Ballou

    Leandro Okabe

    Daniel Craig

    Brad Pitt

    John Kenney

    Jessie Pavelka

    Chad White

    Reynaldo Giannechini

    Johnny Depp

    William Levy

    Bryan Thomas

    Bastian Buxx

    Joey Sylvester

    Justin Chambers

    Justin Thomas

    Roman Heart

    Taylor Lautner


    Brent Van Zant

    Matt Born

    James Denton

    Noah Miles

    Patrick Dempsey

    Eric Dane

    Cristiano Ronaldo

    David Boreanaz

    Carlos Freire

    Adam model

    Shemar Moore

    Michael Vartan

    Amaury Nolasco

    James Blake

    Aitor Mateo

    Manolo Gonzalez

    Caio Cesar

    Brody Boyd

    Ben Pamies

    Simon Czaplinski

    Eric Close

    Allen Walker

    Timothy Olyphant

    Matthew Davis

    Chad Michael Murray

    Andy Whitfield

    Tom Cruise

Here it is — BREAKING POINT cover! Plus EXCERPT

    Here it is! I’m so excited to share it with you — the cover for my next I-Team novel, Breaking Point.

    And who’s on the cover, but the achingly delicious Jed Hill. I recognize those obliques and those lips. Tasty.

    This demands an excerpt, don't you think?

    From Breaking Point:

    Zach hung limply from the manacles, unable even to hold up his head. His shoulders ached from supporting his dead weight, manacles biting into his bloody wrists. But none of that could compare to the residual pain of that last electro-shock. His muscles seized in sharp spasms, his heart slamming erratically in his chest, his body shaking, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of his own blood.

    Don’t give in to the pain. Adjust for it.

    He willed himself to relax, slowed his breathing.

    Cold water splashed over his chest, making him jerk. It wasn’t to revive him, he knew, but to make his skin more conductive to electricity. He waited for the next blast of agony, but instead felt a glass bottle against his lips. A hand fisted in his hair, tilting his head back, and he swallowed, warm cola sliding down his raw, parched throat.

    Electrolytes. Caffeine. Calories.

    All would help him stay alive.

    Then his tormenter spoke to him, as always in Spanish. “You are dying, cuñado. And for what? You are alone now, forgotten, left without even a dog to bark at you. Tell us who has the cocaine and where we can find them. Then your torment will end. There will be no more pain, only sleep.”

    Zach fought off a wave of despair. “¡Vete a la verga!” Fuck off!

    The bastard chuckled, but Zach knew he wasn’t really amused. They’d tried to break him and had failed. There’d be a price to pay when Cárdenas got the news.

    Creaking hinges. Footsteps.

    And Zach knew she was there. He could feel her presence, hear her rapid breathing. Hell, he could even smell her, something sweet in a world of filth.


    “Tráela aquí.” Bring her over here.

    What the hell?

    Zach’s head came up. Somehow, he drew himself to his feet, his hands clenched around the chains for support, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Why had they brought her in here? Were they going to torture her to get to him?

    Over my dead body.

    “Zach?” There was fear in her voice, but also sympathy, concern.

    He shook his head, his sign to her to keep quiet, hoping she’d remembered what he’d told her earlier. If they thought he cared what happened to her, if they thought he’d told her anything…

    An arm went around his shoulder. “You are a brave man. No one has ever lasted so long against my little stinger, so I’ll offer you a better way out. Tell us where the coke is, and you can have the girl. We’ll take off these chains, give you some food and a little coke to make you strong, ? And you can fuck her till your prick gives out. And when you’re done, you get one bullet to the head. Fast, painless — and you die happy. If you do not, your suffering will be such that those who find what is left of your body will lie awake at night weeping for you.”

    Zach might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Having failed to break him with pain, they were now trying to bribe him with rape. They were only bluffing, of course. They had no intention of giving him their Jefe’s prize. But if he played along with them, if he could persuade them to unchain him…

    He pretended to consider the offer. “¿Es bonita?” Is she pretty?

    Rough hands tore off his blindfold.

    “!Mira sus tetas!” Just look at her tits!

    Unaccustomed to light he blinked, squinted — and quickly assessed the situation. He was in a small room with a half-dozen armed Zetas. There were two small windows and only one door. Wooden chairs sat around an old table littered with dirty dishes and half-empty bottles of tequila. A couple of AKs leaned up against the wall to his right.

    You’d give your left nut for one of those, wouldn’t you, man?

    He sure as hell would.

    In front of him, a car battery sat on a rolling cart, two electrical cables dropped on the floor near his feet. The sight made him shudder, dread mixing with rage in his gut.

    Little stinger?

    Beside the cart, two Zetas held a struggling young woman between them, while a third unbuttoned her blouse, laughing to himself. Bastards. Knowing he couldn’t risk showing emotion, he met Natalie’s gaze.

    His heart seemed to stop. His mind went blank. And he stared.

    She looked pleadingly up at him through the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, their irises an unusual shade of aqua blue. Her features were delicate, her otherwise flawless skin marred by a dark bruises and smudges of dirt. Her dark brown hair — why he had imagined her as a blonde? — hung in thick tangles past her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than five-foot-four or an ounce over one-twenty.

    The protective urge that welled up inside him took him by surprise, and he actually took a step toward her, until chains and pain reminded him where he was — and in what condition. Then her blouse fell to floor, followed by a lacy, white bra, revealing two beautiful, natural breasts.

    A low whistle. A groan.

    “¡Oye, mamacita, que buena estás!” Oh, baby, you are fine!

    The testosterone level in the room surged, and for a moment Zach was afraid the Zetas’ lust for her would overcome their fear of Cárdenas.

    The one with a long scar — the electrical specialist who’d turned Zach’s life into a living hell — walked over to stand behind Natalie, then reached around, drew her back against him, and grabbed her breasts, hands that enjoyed cruelty manhandling sensitive flesh.

    “¡Chécalo, güey—las chichis perfectas¡” Check it out, dude — perfect boobs.

    Zach felt his teeth grind, seeing only the emotion on Natalie’s face — fear, revulsion, pain. Her gaze locked with his as if eye contact were the one thing keeping her shattered world together. She probably didn’t understand what was happening or why they were doing this to her. He wished he could reassure her.

    Instead, he was about to make it all much worse.

    Stay strong, angel.

For Kristie J — Get Well Soon!

    One of the best kisses in film history

    There are likely few residents of Romancelandia — authors or readers — who haven't seen the name KristieJ somewhere on a blog or who don’t know Kristie J from her own blog or from her various crusades for books and movies she loves.

    I’ve had the great pleasure of meeting Kristie twice — once at her first RWA conference (in Atlanta?) and once right here in Colorado. She was part of this summer’s Pamela Clare Reality Tour and sat squished in the very back of the rental vehicle the entire way.

    Kristie is a genuinely wonderful person, and I’ve enjoyed emails and a few phone conversations with her.

    I learned this week that she’d had a terrible accident on the stairs at home about two weeks ago and had broke both her tibia and fibula. Tib-fib fractures are very serious. Gabe Rossiter, my hero from Naked Edge, suffers a compound tib-fib fracture — no one say how, please — at the end of the story. Those of you who’ve read the novel know how serious that was.

    Fortunately, Kristie’s situation was a little less serious, but of course she is a real person. She is now “in hospital” as the more British among us would say. She had to have surgery on the fracture and now must undergo therapy.

    Having been through a serious accident myself, I know that the next few weeks won’t be easy for her. I hope and pray that she gets a lot of great help and support and that her pain is relieved. She has a great sense of humor about it — that’s Kristie — but it’s still tough. Make no mistake.

    So this blog is dedicated to Kristie in hopes that she’ll recover quickly. And what better way to cheer her up than to feature images of her favorite BBC series, North and South. If you haven’t seen this, please rent it from Netflix immediately — or just go buy it, because you’ll want to watch it again and again.

    In the meantime, those of you who’ve lurked at Kristie’s blog, who’ve read a book she recommended, who’ve chatted with her via e-mail or online, please post your get-well wishes here for her. I’ll send her the URL so she can read it. She’s made our lives richer, and this is a chance to thank her for that.

    Kristie, please feel better. Know that you are in my prayers. And here is one of your favorite scenes from North and South — one of my favorites, too.

Selection 2010 - Sean Sullivan

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