My entire fucking family is fucking Evan Rosier. Even my 94-year-old great-fucking-grandmother is fucking Evan Rosier. I don't know what they see in him. Sure, he's gorgeous. I get that. But he's not the charming, innovative genius my mother believes. He's a fraud. He's the smarmiest smarmy bastard in the history of the world. I don't care if he is filthy r...
I walked into my Civil War history class on the first day of the fall semester. I enrolled in this class as a crip credit. My Dad was a Civil War buff and I spent my entire life hearing about the various battles, participants, what should have been done, stupid mistakes that were made, and endless trivia. Countless weekends were spent going to Civil War batt...
Seth and Claire's wedding was at an old-school Louisiana plantation. Apparently Claire was a Southern girl; she didn't have an accent, but that part of the country clearly had a place in her heart. The venue was almost like something out of Gone With the Wind, a big stately country house surrounded by oak trees and Spanish moss. It clearly had a lot of histo...
Ernie sat behind the wheel of the old pickup truck as it roared north on route 23 headed toward Circleville. His elbow was out the window and the warm June air rushed in, and there was a smile on his face as big as the sky above was sunny. But that wasn’t the only thing big. Ernie was sporting a boner in his denim shorts as big and hard as they got. And he...
Tuesday-Wednesday, 4-12 April, Richmond to Just North of Danville, Virginia The men in the train had barely settled down, a bit more than two hours after they had cleared through the skirmishes at Manchester, across the James River from Richmond, and headed west along the river bank, before they pulled off on a siding in a forest near the town of Goochland....
Author's Note Its been some time since I last wrote about the Corinth family and the town of River Bluff, but this particular story has been somewhat in the works even before the first one was complete. I wouldn't say its required to read The Sound of Your Voice before you read this one, but it will definitely help, and flesh out some of the secondary chara...
Troy was staring into the Cross Keys Winery shelf of the dimly lit wine cellar in the basement of Professor Hammond's house, his arms extended and his hands grasping the edge of the shelf, as Brad Baylor, Hammond's "significant other" rose up from behind him where he'd been knelt, working Troy's hole with his tongue. The strong hands of the James Madison Uni...
We live in a university town, my wife and I, and we live in a neighborhood within five blocks of the edge of that university. It's an affluent neighborhood, built on heavily wooded, well-manicured lots on the side of a ridge, with narrow streets running up and down and twisting here and there. Almost like the country, but a wealthy enclave right in the small...
Straight Cop Loses Control Gulf Coast Trooper craves the bottom Most folks passing a State Trooper cruiser parked beside a county road will slow down and hope they're not doing anything illegal. If they're in southern Alabama, none suspect what waits inside that patrol car, champing at the bit, restless, growling, eager get out, to go wild. Ever been to G...
I met him at a cocktail party in Baton Rouge. The celebrated southern author of those heavily nuanced gothic novels of lust, decadence, old family decay, and the hint of the occult and vampires. I'd never been able to finish one of his novels; they were much too dense and overrich in description for me. But Philippe Controu himself I found to be a surprise....