Warm Rush-- still lovin' it.

Note: This blog was originally published on my MySpace blog, April 16, 2007.

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I recently received a review for my very first e-book—Warm Rush. Although the reviewer wasn't familiar with Muscle Growth as a genre, she enjoyed the book and said it contained a twist "unlike anything else I've ever read." Which got me thinking...

Man, I love this story!

And I remembered how a few of my friends told me how much they enjoyed the t-shirts that Jesse sold from his store, which was also called Warm Rush. More than one said they'd totally buy one.

Well, now you can.

I thought it would be fun to make the t-shirts featured in the story available in real-life, because—wow—how cool would that be? So I played around with it, and I've opened a Warm Rush Online Store. You can check it out here:

http://www.cafepress.com/WarmRush

All three of the t-shirts described in the book are there: from the one Jesse spots a stranger wearing on the plane, to the one Keith has on just before Christmas, to the one Ryan wears while sitting on the porch. And all the shirts have a Warm Rush logo printed on the back, which—oh yeah—has me downright giddy.

I hope you have as much fun with the shirts (and one mug!) as I did. I'm also posting an excerpt from the story below, so let me know what you think (of the review, of the Store, and of the excerpt).

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Warm Rush
Excerpt
Copyright 2006, Rowan McBride
This work cannot be copied or distributed without written permission from the author.

Note: Keith is eighteen and perfectly legal, so no sending me angry letters.

It was freezing. I huddled deeper into my blankets, realized it wouldn't help. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my empty bed, then at the clock.

1 a.m.

Well, the boy didn't sleep. Couldn't expect him to spend all his time in the bed.

The sound of movement downstairs surprised me. He was still in the house?

I looked around for my cane, smiling when I found it propped against my night-stand, just like yesterday. I gingerly got out of bed and maneuvered myself into some clothing before I made my way down the stairs. The harsh light of the kitchen made me blink, and when I was able to focus, my breath actually stalled somewhere inside of me.

Keith leaned against the island counter, eating the pie Mrs. Bailey had dropped off earlier, without a stitch on.

My gaze traveled over his naked body. From his broad shoulders, to his bulging arms, his tight waist. It rested briefly on the hard, rounded muscles of his glutes, then traveled down his powerful, long legs.

A teenaged god was eating pie in my kitchen.

He turned his head and smiled. "Hey, Jesse. I hope I didn't wake you."

My hand went to my chest. Did my heart just skip a beat? I felt 13 again, trying to deal with my first crush. "N-No. You didn't wake me." I forced my gaze to the counter, to the rainbow of food containers arranged across its surface. "Quite a spread you've got there."

"Oh, yeah." His grin turned sheepish. "I got hungry. Is it alright that I'm eating your food?"

I limped over to the counter. "Have as much as you want." It looked liked he'd taken a little bit out of every food item the neighbors had brought today. I guess I would have room for juice, after all. "Is it good?"

"Yeah, but..." He speared another piece of pie. "This apple pie is the greatest."

I couldn't help smiling. His energy chased the chill away. "I'm sure. Mrs. Bailey always loved to bake."

"Want me to cut you a slice?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

"You didn't eat very much at dinner today."

He was still staring at his pie, his face relaxed. But now there was no playfulness. I'd only eaten half of my hamburger today. I thought he hadn't paid attention, but apparently I'd been wrong about that. My track record with this kid was getting worse by the second. "I wasn't very hungry."

"None of this food had even been touched when I started in on it. Did you eat anything before dinner?"

I tried to remember. "Probably not."

"So have a piece of pie."

"I'm really not hungry."

He loaded his fork and held it toward me. "Just try it."

I jerked my head away. "I'm not a child, and I'm not an invalid. I can decide when to eat." Angry now, I started to walk back to the bedroom.

Keith's arm looped around me, and suddenly I was sitting on top of the counter. He smoothed my hair back from my face and kissed me.

Reminded of all the fire we'd just shared, my body reacted instantly, willingly. My lips parted, and he slid his tongue into my mouth. He'd taken a bite of pie, and he pushed it past my teeth.

It tasted of apples and cinnamon and syrupy sweetness. I swallowed the small bit of pastry, and then I sucked on his tongue, wanting more. My hands slipped around his neck, holding him close as I swept his mouth clean.

He broke the kiss, breathed husky words into my ear. "Wasn't that good?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"You think if I put some on my cock, your appetite might return?"

My breath hitched as I drew back, stared into his eyes. Intent, adult, sensual. Fighting him was getting harder and harder. "A possibility."

A soft smile played on his lips as he reached for the pie.