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Perchance to Dream Box Set

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"Does true love really exist or is it just a fantasy? In this box set of gay romance by best-selling author J.M. Snyder, travel through time to Colonial America, visit a dystopic near future, or take a walk on the wild side among beasts, devils, and vampires. Each story embraces homoerotic love that transcends the ages and defies even death itself.

Contains the stories:

A Haunted Love: Nick works at a Colonial America site. One foggy night he meets David, the sexiest man Nick has ever seen. Because Nick's missed his bus, David invites him to stay the night at the inn. Though there's a spark between them, David is gone when Nick wakes. When David's claim of working as an apprentice doesn't pan out, Nick begins to wonder about him, and the ghost stories he's never believed true.

Devil of a Night: Carlos must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because he and his lover Steve find themselves lost in the back roads of New Jersey, what's known as the Pine Barrens. Half-joking, Carlos tells Steven a local legend about a mysterious creature called the Jersey Devil. Then they're run off the road by ... something, Steven can't say what. He feels it out there in the woods watching them. Waiting ...

Hunted: Once a month, the Hunt begins ... Hartley is a cervidae, human in form with deer-like features. When the Hunt starts. Hartley knows he's tempting fate. Almost silent in the darkness, a felidae -- half-human, half-lion -- stalks him, but something more than bloodlust runs through Tau's veins tonight. He's hungry for Hartley. Can the shadowed alleys of Richmond hide this forbidden animal attraction?

Inked in Blood: Tom stops at Tattoo 804 just as it's about to close. Rist has a fetish for vampires and agrees to ink Tom after hours. What begins as a simple procedure turns erotic when Rist notices how hard Tom is for him. They give into their primal desires right in the tattoo chair. But things take an unusual turn and Tom wonders if Rist is just into a little blood play ... or if he isn't one of the undead.

The Last Thing on My Mind:Yesterday he told me he loved me. Today we're dead.Two college guys on spring break. Friends, roommates, lovers. A moment's distraction while driving on the highway and suddenly their lives change. Forever. It's an easy promise to make when you know you won't live that long. But what happens in the afterlife?

Lover's Cross: After a bad car accident, Jory's lover Peter assures him he's doing fine. But when Jory attends a get-well party at the house of a coworker, he's surprised no one asks him how Peter is. More disconcerting, Peter's gold cross necklace is missing, and Jory suffers from headaches whenever his best friend Bruce brings up the accident. Where is the cross? And why does Bruce keep asking about Peter?

Persistence of Memory: Five years ago Joah was culled -- kidnapped by the government to be trained as a soldier. In the process, they erased his memory, destroying his past, his dreams, everything but his name. Armed with that alone, Joah escapes from the facility in search of someone to help him recall the man he used to be. That person is Tobin, Joah’s husband, who never gave up hope of finding him again."

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A Haunted Love-1
A Haunted Love It’s February. The sky darkens later now, and the days aren’t quite as short as they used to be. We already put away the candles and greenery from our ‘Christmas in the Colonies’ bit and hired a few new employees in anticipation of the field trips schools usually do in the spring. I’m really looking forward to summertime—each year it gets hotter and hotter. I don’t know how I manage in the cotton breeches and starched shirt I wear at work, but it could be worse. I could be Angela over at the inn, with her bustle and her ten yards of fabric and her tight-ass corset. Or Thad at the capitol building in his ironed breeches and polished shoes and long-tailed coat. Or Jeremy at the smithy’s, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bent over a hot furnace all day long, hammering out horseshoes and bits of iron for the tourists. It could be a lot worse. Me, I’m just a stable boy. Nothing glorious, but back in Colonial America most jobs weren’t. At least I can wear my shirt open, unlaced to the middle of my chest, and I don’t have to worry about mopping the sweat off my back because I’m supposed to sweat while I work. Part of the ambiance, I guess. It makes it real. I spend my workday carrying crates from one end of the stable to the other, brushing down the three horses we keep on site, and rattling off my spiel about how my master’s steed is the fastest in the thirteen colonies, once owned by Patrick Henry himself, and no, before you ask, it wasn’t the one he rode that fateful night. For a small tip I can even recite the poem, though I’ve been known to hunker down beside a little girl and whisper it to her for the price of a smile as she watched me with wide eyes. The kids eat that re-enacting s**t up. “Listen my children and you shall hear…” They love it. After the sun goes down, the cobbled streets thin out as the tourists catch the bus back to the hotels. I usually sit on one of the benches in the square until the lamp lighter makes his rounds. Greg is a short fellow with a quick laugh; how he got the lighter position when he can barely reach the candle inside each street lamp beats me. In the gloaming, his footsteps echo off the stones and I’ll watch the lights flare to life one by one as he approaches. When he gets close enough to where I sit, he’ll always say, “Hey, how you doing, kid?” Like he’s so much older than me. He can’t be forty, if that, and he has to wear a cap to cover the short, spiked hair he’s dyed an un-Colonial shade of blue. The management doesn’t like their re-enactors to be out of character. They like my hair, long blonde unruly curls I’m itching to cut, but then I’ll be unmarketable. Who shaved all their hair off back then? I mentioned it once and my boss said I’d have to wear a powdered wig if I did. Those things are itchy and heavy and hot. and whoever heard of a stable boy wearing a powdered wig? I’d have to move up to government, so I said no thanks and kept my curls, pulling them back in a tight ponytail while I work but letting them loose the minute I’m off the clock.

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