Blue Moon – Too Good Be To True and French version
Release Date 11/21/2013
Genre: Gay Contemporary Romance
Length: Novel ~ 298 Pages
Published: November 21, 2013
Publisher: Via Star Wings Books
Cover Artist: Princess SO
Editor: Tina Adamski
Angel DeLucca is one of the most sought after gay bachelors in Virginia Beach, but when he tries to find true love, no one takes him seriously. After a one-night stand goes wrong, he comes into contact with hunky, straight, firefighter Maximus (Max) Strong, and Angel’s mission in life is now clear.
Max’s older, protective, brother, Ryker secretly craves the attention and praise of a Master. Angel’s Security Chief, Master Dom, Sebastian ‘Bass’ Bagetteli, shatters that secret with their first intense encounter.
These men’s stories will unravel in a whirlwind of romance, bondage, revelations, action scenes, and very hot sex.
‘…This story proves that love surprises and delights when you least expect it. Thank you A.E. Via!’ By: Extremely Picky
‘…cannot get enough of A.E. Via. Will be waiting (impatiently) for the next book. combining all that sexiness with an actual storyline is rare and very much appreciated.’ By: Crazy2Read
‘I loved this story from beginning to the end. This was the first time reading this author , but it will definitely not be the last! Hot hot.’
For More Reviews and Buy Links:
Max heard the female computer-generated voice come over the PA system, announcing an alarm was triggered at one of the clubs on the strip. He jumped off his bunk, still a little light-headed from his release. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Five minutes to midnight. He raced to get on his uniform as he listened to his Captain bark out orders to the other fighters. Max silently prayed it wasn’t a real fire. He knew the clubs on the beach were packed with tourists, some of them holding hundreds of people. “Strong! Are you waiting on a fucking engraved invitation? Get your ass out here now!” his Captain yelled for all to hear. Max emerged from his bunk room in his blue uniform shirt with the fireman’s crest on his chest. In bold lettering on the back was ‘Virginia Beach Fire Department. His dark blue polyester uniform pants fit nicely over his firm ass. He raced to the bay area that housed their rigs and the lockers that held each of their turn-out gear. “What’s the code?” Max asked the incident commander as he suited up next to him. “Code Silver, but, we’re treating it as Gold because of the capacity held by this particular establishment.”
Max knew all the codes like he knew his alphabet. This code meant that an alarm was tripped but there is no report of a fire or smoke. Great, a false alarm. One of the little punk club-goers thought it was funny to pull a fire alarm and watch everyone scatter.Fucking wasting my goddamn time. Max hated those types of calls. It required him to have to suit up and race to a scene for no apparent reason except to shut off an alarm and take a statement. Max hopped in the side seat of the rig as the bay doors opened. Both rigs emerged slowly into traffic, sirens and lights blaring so loud he could barely hear himself think. “Where are we headed?” Max shouted to his second lieutenant. “Club Blue Moon.” The deep voice yelled back. “The largest, most popular fucking club down there.” The lieutenant rolled his blue eyes, and Max saw the concern etched in his rugged face. The many years of disastrous, fatal fires were etched in every crevice. Wonderful…a thousand people in the middle of the street. Max had never been to the poplar nightclub he saw advertised everywhere in the city, but he’d heard it was super nice. Luna told him it was a gay club, but his brother told him it wasn’t. Max remembered his brother’s comments on the night sensation. “Everyone and their grandmother go there, Max. I fucking love it. Definitely some of the hottest ass in town can be found in there,” Ryker bragged. His older brother Ryker was gay and out, so Max figured it probably wasn’t a club he would want to frequent. Max braced himself on the overhead ‘oh-shit-bar’ when the rig turned right onto the strip and maneuvered around the tourists jaywalking across the street. It was a goddamn headache trying to get around the egotistical motorists that cruised the strip in their freshly shined pussy-mobiles at a whopping fifteen miles per hour. Honk, honk, honk… Zander leaned on the horn as they slowly made their way to Eighteenth Street. The men could already see the massive crowd gathered behind a row of police cruisers a couple of streets up.
Max knew this was not going to be the last time they’d be dispatched to the strip. They were going to be flooded with fake fire alarm calls, alcohol poisoned parties, someone caught in the undercurrents while swimming without lifeguards on duty, jellyfish stings, bar brawls, car accidents, you name it—they were going to see it all this weekend. Because it’s the fucking Fourth of July and people love a reason to get out of their stale daily routines, get shit-faced, and live on the edge for a day or two—especially since most of them had a four day weekend. Finally, they made it to the club entrance on Sixteenth Street in a total of twelve minutes.
The police officers tried to fend back the large crowd that had no doubt been forced out of the club before they finished getting their groove on. Crowd control was not the fire department’s responsibility and Max couldn’t be happier for that fact right now. He jumped down from his seat and waited for the incident commander to come from the second rig. He quickly dispatched the other fighters to fully gear up with face mask, oxygen tanks, and solid steel pikes. Regardless, if they were told it was a false pull or not, they didn’t take chances. Nine bulky fighters made determined steps into the club, completely ignoring the three beefy security guards at the front door. Damn those are some huge fuckers, Max thought. “Max, the Captain told me that you will be acting Sergeant on this one,” his commander informed him. He couldn’t help but smile as his best friend Pierce nudged him in the side—his way of saying congratulations on the promotion. Max nodded in affirmation at the Commander and told Pierce he’d wait for his call before he tried to locate the club owner. Pierce was the second lieutenant and responsible for overseeing the other fighter’s actions while inside, and reported directly to the Incident Commander when the scene was secured.
Once that call was made then Max could exercise his new job responsibility of securing a statement of accounts from the owner of the establishment, which apparently the stupid asshole was still inside. Approximately two and half minutes later Max heard the high-pitched alarm stop screaming, and the crowd erupted in loud applause. “Hell yeah! About damn time…now let us back in!” Some idiot standing in front of the now happy crowd shouted at one of the nearby officers. Quickly responding, a thick-bodied officer nudged him back a few feet and barked at him, “Shut up!” Max shook his head and chuckled lightly. He retrieved the forms for the owner to sign and the citation pad just in case he felt the owner should be cited for the false alarm. When he finished gathering his documents he heard Pierce’s deep voice come through the radio loud and clear. “Area secured, secondary uniform personnel and club staff may enter only…no patrons at this time. Over.” “Copy that lieutenant. Over,” Max spoke into the radio on his shoulder. He walked through the frost-stained glass double doors and was almost knocked off his feet by the club’s immaculate interior. He was immediately relieved this was a false alarm because it would be a tragedy indeed to have burned this place down. He did a quick survey of his surroundings and counted at least nine flat screen forty-seven inch high-definition televisions strategically placed around the lower level. The black and white marbled dance floor looked large enough to fit five hundred sweaty bodies.
The outer perimeter was littered with various tables of different sizes. Each white marble tabletop was accompanied with several burgundy cushion-back chairs. Max tried to remember to keep his mouth closed as he studied the angel-decorated white columns which provided support for the second level. The infinite number of red, green, and blue strobe lights still flickered around the immaculate club even though all the lights were on. He noticed a glass ceiling-to-floor wall on the right side of the upper level that had closed drapes to prevent anyone from looking inside of what appeared to be some type of room or office. If the first level looked this grand, he could only imagine what the sec— “Don’t fucking tell me to come down, I want that bastard arrested!” Max’s thoughts were interrupted as he spun around toward the deepest growling voice he’d ever heard in his life.
He instinctively moved in that direction while taking in the scene on the other side of the oblong glass-top bar. Max saw Pierce, three police officers, and the Incident Commander talking to a man who from behind looked like one of those underwear models for Calvin Klein. He was sure it was a man despite the beautiful black hair reaching to his round ass. What the hell? Why would I call a guy’s hair beautiful? Or describe his ass? Shit, anyone would notice him, I mean he doesn’t look like any man I’ve ever seen. Max couldn’t help but notice the expensive black slacks that tapered at the man’s narrow waist and hugged his butt. The silky black short-sleeved collared shirt looked like someone had grabbed the man from behind because it was pretty wrinkled in the back. Max made his way to the commotion just in time to see Pierce put up both his hands in a placating gesture, trying to speak calmly to the irate man. “Sir, I know you’re upset, but yelling at us is not going to help. We need to get some more information from you so we can try to locate him.” “Yes, so one more time Mr. DeLucca. Why was the gentleman in question up in your personal office if he wasn’t staff?” a police officer interrupted Pierce’s rationalization. His lip turned up in disgust, already assuming the answer and not the least bit affected by the harsh glare radiating from the man’s dangerous, smoky brown eyes. “I’ve told you twice already. I’m beginning to think you’re just getting off on my fucking story!
The man approached me downstairs, we exchanged words, he asked me if we could go someplace a little quieter, and I directed him to my office.” Max watched the dark man try to quench his anger while he recounted the events that took place right before his alarm was pulled. His staff began making their way back in, but they kept looking over at them with concern on their faces. Max could see Mr. DeLucca was trying to stay calm, perhaps for their sakes. However, his red face couldn’t hide his anger…or his humiliation. “So what exactly were you doing up there in the quiet office Mr. DeLucca?” Nasty cop again. It was obvious to Max and everyone listening that the cop wasn’t in favor of Mr. DeLucca’s sexual preference. The cop had a hard scowl on his face to match his suspect’s menacing stare. Only the cop’s dull green eyes were not as enticing as Mr. DeLucca’s chocolate irises. The cop braced his legs apart as if ready to react if need be. Max made direct eye contact with the angry club owner, and he immediately felt as if he was put into a trance.
The pupils in the man’s eyes were so dark that they practically drowned out his sclera. Max could barely see the white in the man’s gaze. Max squirmed uncomfortably. After too many minutes he managed to break the contact as he looked around to see if anyone else noticed their silent exchange. Holy Shit. Why the hell is he staring at me like that? Fuck me. He looks so damn intense. Fuck. “Mr. DeLucca, over here.” Max saw the cop rudely snapping his fingers in front of Mr. DeLucca like he was a child, making him break the mojo he was working on Max. “I must have to ask you again, since you are focused on other things. What were you doing in your quiet office with the alleged man?” “Playing goddamn Monopoly…what the fuck do you think we were doing?” DeLucca growled back hard. Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the serious man’s witty reply. “Is there something you want to interject here Mr. Strong, because I’m trying to question a suspect.” The cop gave Max an angry look for his little outburst. Max felt his face heat to a sweltering temperature. Damnit, now I’m sweating. “Actually, Sergeant Strong is here to take a statement from the owner of this establishment, who we understand now to be a victim of vandalism,” Pierce interjected before Max could respond. His best friend always had his back. Max didn’t speak, waiting for the officer to digest that Max had a higher rank than him at this scene. The cop had no choice but to stop interrogating Mr. DeLucca until after Max was done talking to him.
Max had his own questions to ask and his forms needed signatures so his firefighters could be released to leave the scene. He was sure the officer knew the protocol because he flipped his notebook closed and stomped off with his posse following on his heels. Now that the homophobic interrogation team was gone, that left Max and his best friend Pierce. Finally, Max was able to address the interesting looking man. “Good evening Mr. DeLucca, I am Serg—” “Call me Angel,” he interjected swiftly, uncrossing his nice sized arms from over his strong chest. His posture was a lot less defensive now, appearing to Max that he was comfortable talking with him. Angel…huh…that’s fitting. Max found himself blinking rapidly at his last thought. Jesus. Get it together man. There’s no reason why this man should be flustering me like this. He’s just a man. He had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could continue. Max was always commended on the professionalism he exhibited when on a scene. Even the most irate victims—whose home and possessions were burning down to ash right in front of their faces—responded to Max’s calm demeanor. “I wish I could say it was a good evening Sergeant Strong…but whatever.
What questions do you need answered? I’m sure your men have more important and pressing issues to attend to. Despite what that asshole cop was insinuating, if I didn’t invite that guy up then he never would have left disappointed enough to do what he did. I apologize that you and your men had to waste your time.” Max was still staring at Angel closely, as he was slowly mesmerized by the way Angel’s full lips formed his intelligent words. The man was admitting his fuck-up, but still did it in a way that showed his regality and strength. Max just stared slack-jawed, not knowing how to respond to Angel’s confession. Max even forgot Pierce was still standing there as he heard his friend loudly clear his throat before speaking. His best friend tried unsuccessfully to hide his amused smirk. Shit. “Umm…Angel, is it? It’s quite all right. None of what happened tonight was your fault.
I’m sure once Max picks his lip up off your bar he will somehow manage to get his forms signed and take care of everything for you.” Pierce looked comically at Max. “Uhhh, yeah…Max, I’m going to clear the scene and have the rigs head back to the station. I’ll leave you the SUV. It’s parked in the alley on the side.” Pierce laughed as he headed to the front entrance. Max knew his face had to be bright red at being caught gawking at the beautiful man. He pulled his gaze from Angel and began spreading out his forms on the bar top. Max regrettably had to clear his throat again before speaking. “Mr. DeLuc…I mean Angel,” he switched up. “Would you mind terribly signing these documents for me?
They simply state that the alarm was not pulled by you or a member of your staff, but was an act of malice by one of your patrons. That eliminates you for being cited for inciting a crowd or for a false alarm. You can also begin to let your customers back in if you wish.” “Sure,” Angel said. He came to stand directly beside Max at the bar and reached his hand out to take the offered pen. Max was immediately overwhelmed with the enticing smell of coconuts, and suddenly wanted to ask the bartender for a pina colada. Damn, why the hell does he smell like that? Max found himself taking an unconscious sniff in the man’s direction. It must have not been very discreet, because the striking man paused mid-signature and slowly raised his smoldering eyes to meet Max’s. “Do you like the way I smell, Sergeant Strong?” he purred with deep sensuality. “What…um…no…well…uh,no I wasn’t smelling you,” Max lied. “Don’t lie to me,” Angel demanded with a sexy smirk playing on his sinful lips. Max shivered and dropped his eyelids involuntarily. Okay, this can’t be happening to me right now. I’m not attracted to men. Max chanted that statement in his head several times, but his body was evidence to the contrary.
Max’s cock was at half mast and he was hyper-aware of the ticklish droplets of sweat dripping behind his ears. He could not figure out why he was responding to this man this way. He looked Angel directly in his face since they were both about the same height. “Why did the man leave your office so disappointed?” Max asked the question before he could think better of it. Damn! Why the fuck did I ask him that? Shit. It was Angel’s damn eyes that were screwing up his brain-to-mouth filter. If Angel was shocked by his question he didn’t show it. He stepped in closer to Max, leaving only a few inches between them, and answered without hesitation. “He wanted something from me that he didn’t deserve, and I wasn’t willing to give him.” “And what was that?” Max whispered, now intrigued. “Control.”