Welcome to our Grand Finale celebrations for the amazing
In our final post, we're going to look at Geoffrey's gay adventure novels: The Fathom's Five series and Scott Sapphire And The Emerald Orchid. We also have our author interview and one more chance to win one of Geoffrey's books.
First up, The Cross Of Sins
Somewhere in the world is a statue so sinful that a secret sect of the Church wants it destroyed at any cost. Somewhere in the Turkish desert, in the streets of London, and in the depths of Venice, are the clues to find it. And, somewhere in the hearts of five sexy, daring, thrill-seeking gay men, is the courage and die-hard determination to unravel one of the greatest mysteries of all time.
Meet Luca da Roma, an Italian model and expert in art, both ancient and modern; Dr. Eden Santiago, Brazilian biologist, physician and genetic engineer; Shane Houston, a Texas cowboy and an expert in cartography; Will Hunter, a San Diego college student and football star, majoring in ancient history; and Shane Stone, an adventurer-for-hire from New York and the newest member of Professor Fathom's team of hot gay adventure seekers.
The sound of a bottle of Bulgarian vodka—no label, no brand, nothing but the potent forces of a peasant family’s labor inside—makes a much different sound clanging against an eighteenth-century-old door than the knuckles of a man’s hand. The young Italian heard footsteps inside somewhere, clambering down a set of stairs. The door opened. The face of a man in his late forties, unshaven, unkempt, but still—as always—in his own way handsome, looked up in sweet surprise.
“Luca? Luca da Roma?” Marco had dark brown eyes that seemed to deepen as he smiled at the sight of Luca. Gentle lines creased his forehead and the skin around his eyes. “I must be drunk!”
Luca, the young Italian, smiled back at his old friend and lover. “No, Marco.” He raised the bottle of vodka. “But you will be soon.”
For a moment, the two men stood looking at each other, smiling. “You’ve cut your hair.” Marco reached out and ruffled Luca’s medium-length brown hair. “It’s been such a long time. Three years?”
“You look good. You always did. Come! Come inside!”
Marco led Luca up an old set of creaking, cracked stairs, into a dusty old loft attic with large arched windows that overlooked the village of Vita Sola and the pale green plains that vanished into a white horizon. “The light,” Marco said. “I love this place for the light.”
“It’s good light.” Luca looked around the attic. There were canvases, dozens upon dozens of them, propped against every available inch of wall space. Luca noticed that not a single one of the canvases was finished.
Marco held the smile on his face, but he knew that Luca knew him all too well, and slowly the smile turned into a shrug. “Even if the work isn’t, the light is good. Inspiration,” he said. “It comes and it goes, that’s the nature of the beast. You know, I had a muse once, someone who made painting easy, too easy, as though the mere sight of him moved the brush for me, and chose the colors, and so gracefully, so lovingly placed each stroke.” Marco turned and began rifling through a stack of leaning canvases. He pulled one out. It was complete—old and dusty. With a gentle breath, Marco blew the age off and looked upon it proudly.
Luca couldn’t see the painting, but knew Marco was looking at one of the portraits he had done of the young Italian. He could only guess which one—there had been so many. “The balcony in Florence, overlooking Il Duomo, am I right?”
Marco smiled and turned it around for Luca to see.
It was like looking into a mirror of time. Luca looked upon himself, standing naked, head down, one hand resting on the handle of an open door that led out onto a small balcony. Behind him, the famous dome of Florence stood against a cloud-clustered sky. Suddenly, the memory of that day came back to him in a swirl of small details. The coffee he had burned on the stove. The empty wine bottles from the night before still on the floor by the bed. Evidence that during the night, after they had made love, once they were sleeping soundly, a mouse had done his best to finish off the bread and cheese they had left on the table.
“It was the day after your twentieth birthday,” Marco said.
Luca was twenty-six now. Where had the years gone? “It was the first painting you did of me.”
“I hoped—still hope—there will never be a last.”
Luca turned and helped himself to the cupboards in the small kitchenette in one corner of the loft. He found two mismatched glasses and wiped the dust off them with his fingers. He set the bottle of vodka on a small table that stood in the middle of the room. “You haven’t asked me what I’m doing here.”
“I didn’t want to have to.”
The two men each pulled up a chair at the table. Luca poured them each a generous glass of vodka. Marco took a gulp and smiled. “From old man Zabriski’s farm,” he commented approvingly.
“I kept a few bottles.”
“So you’ve come to get me drunk. To take advantage of me. You’re copying my old tactics.”
“I need some information. You’re the only person I can trust to ask.”
“Are you in trouble?”
Luca raised his glass with a grin. “Not yet. But I’ll find some.”
Marco laughed. “I’m certain of it. That’s what I miss, a little adventure. I thought I moved to this village to find myself, but I was running away. I craved inspiration, while all you craved was chaos. I miss that now. I miss your little games.”
“Then let’s play,” Luca smirked. He clinked his glass against Marco’s, and the two men polished off their first drink together in over five years. Luca put down his glass, took off his jacket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and then filled up their glasses once more.
Marco raised one eyebrow. “Ah, the conversation game,” he grinned. “My favorite. So tell me, what is it you’re after this time?”
“A statue. Sixteenth Century. Have you ever heard of The Naked Christ?”
Marco nodded. “Heard of it, yes. But have I seen it? No. I don’t know of anyone who ever has. It was lost, wiped from history. Just like Videlle, the artist who sculpted it.”
“He was murdered,” Luca said. “I know that much.”
“Not simply murdered. He was tortured for what he did. They sliced out his eyes. They cut off his hands. And while he was still alive, they strung him up in the middle of Piazza della Signoria and disemboweled him. Creating an image of Christ on the crucifix, completely naked, who would dare! Christ with a cock! It was unheard of! It was a sin punishable by death. They condemned Videlle to eternity in hell for what he did.”
“They, being the Church?”
Marco paused a moment and grinned. “The Church has many factions. It wears more than one mask. Faith has many faces.” The artist raised his glass, and the two emptied their drinks.
Luca sat back and undid another button.
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Book 2, The Riddle Of The Sands
The clock is ticking! Blackmailed by Jake's nemesis - the vengeful Pierre Perron - Professor Fathom's team of five horny gay adventurers is sent on a seemingly impossible mission to uncover the legendary Riddle of the Sands in order to save one of their own from a rare and deadly poison. But what is the Riddle of the Sands? Where are the long-lost clues and hidden maps that can lead to its whereabouts?
Is it a myth, a mirage, or the greatest engineering feat in the history of ancient Egypt? From the icy plains of Siberia to the shadowy bathhouses of Cairo, from the scorching valley of the Nile to the heart of the Amazon jungle, readers join these hunks — treasure-hunter Jake, Brazilian biologist Eden, Texas cowboy Shane, art expert Luca, and quarterback Will — in a search that blends nonstop action and high-octane sex!
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Also in the series:
Lastly, in today's line-up, Scott Sapphire And The Emerald Orchid
Meet Scott Sapphire—lover of French champagne, Belgian chocolate and dangerous men. He is suave. He is sexy. He is a man of the world—and a man that the world desperately wants to catch.
For Scott Sapphire is the greatest jewel thief of our time. Dashing. Daring. And always neck-deep in trouble.
But when Scott’s latest heist lands him in possession of a map to a rare and precious orchid, it’ll take more than bedroom eyes and a charming smile to stay one step ahead of one of the world’s most powerful business tycoons, as well as keep the CIA off Scott’s back and a handsome special agent out of his pants—or maybe not.
From the Venice canals to the Amazon rainforest, from Rio de Janeiro to the casinos of Monte Carlo, comes a brand new gay hero as irresistible as diamonds and pearls.
Adventure has a new name! And that name is Scott Sapphire.
The distant song of a gondolier—a happy, melodramatic solo of La Traviata’s Libiamo Ne’ Lieti Calici, as only a gondolier can do it justice—echoed through the canals and drifted through the open balcony doors of the stranger’s hotel room, but Jake Stone didn’t even hear it. All he heard was his own desperate panting, the rush of adrenaline in his temples, the pounding of his heart, the wet, hungry sounds of lips crushing and sucking, tongues exploring and licking and diving in deep.
The young man on the receiving end of Jake’s wild, ravenous kisses was handsome, and his cock was just as hard as Jake’s. His hair was as black as a moonless night, the kind of night that was perfect for a crime. His eyes were so blue, so piercing; if they had been jewels, they would have fetched a fortune.
But Jake was in Venice for a different kind of treasure.
And this beautiful young specimen of a man was going to help him get his hands on it—without even knowing.
In the meantime—