Title	Ride the Man Down #1 in A New World Shaman series
Author	William Maltese
ISBN#	978-1-60820-030-6 (print)
	978-1-60820-031-3 (ebook)
Release Date	July 2009
Cover Artist	Deana C. Jamroz
Paperback:	174 pages
Sexual Content:	Rated Explicit
Available At:	MlrBooks (ebook) Amazon–coming soon B&N -coming soon

The Ridgemonts are wealthy and influential New Mexico Territory landowners. Their status purportedly is purchased by seemingly inexhaustible capital provided by their reputed Deadmen Hills’ gold mine. It’s only human nature that others want to share in their bounty. That these others have to die has less to do with keeping the “mine” location a secret than with concealing other mysteries bequeathed by the long-lived and elusive native-American shaman Calenza. Secrets even the Ridgemonts can likely never fully comprehend.

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Brendon and Eduardo

“Damn, but I love your funky young cowboy ass,” Brendon Ridgemont said to Eduardo Rivera.

The two teenagers were stark naked. Eduardo’s head rested on his forearms that rested atop a fence railing. Brendon squatted behind; his tongue provided another long and leisurely lap from the rear hang of Eduardo’s hairy scrotum to the small of the young Latino’s back.

Nearby, just to one side of a large boulder, two horses, reins dragging the ground, munched what none-too-succulent scrub was immediately available.

“And I love your big cowboy cock, too.” Brendon’s right hand reached around and took hold of Eduardo’s impressively stiff dick to provide a couple of quick but firm up-and-down strokes. “Or, are you tired of hearing how much your body turns me on?”

“Since I so love your studly body, it’s always nice to hear that mine is loved in return,” Eduardo said. His ass provided a small circular movement that rubbed its firm cheeks against Brendon’s face. All the while, Brendon’s tongue flicked, like a frog catching flies, and left dabs of accumulated shiny spit at the puckered entrance of Eduardo’s tight-tight little asshole.

“Actually, I love more of you than just your sexy body, though, don’t I?” Brendon said.

“Do you?” (continue reading…)

Title	Conspiracy of Ravens
Author	William Maltese
ISBN#	978-1-60820-061-0 (ebook)
Release Date	June 2009
Cover Artist	Deana C. Jamroz
Paperback:	174 pages
Sexual Content:	Rated Explicit
Available At:	MlrBooks (ebook)

Inside the grounds of the infamous Tower of London. Patrick whose Irish lover, Ian, was killed by an English homicidal butcher behind the wheel of a speeding car. Tad whose American parents have sent their erring son to live with Brit relatives, one of whom is a Tower yeoman. Six Tower Ravens, the subjects of legend that predicts-they gone, the British Empire soon to follow. A man and five Tower Ravens murdered. One man determined to see the sixth bird dead, no matter the consequences.

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Title	SS Mann Hunt
Author	William Maltese
ISBN#	978-1-60820-060-3 (ebook)
Release Date	June 2009
Cover Artist	Deana C. Jamroz
Paperback:	174 pages
Available At:	MlrBooks (ebook)

FATHER. FIEND? SCIENTIST. BUTCHER? PATRIOT. NAZI?

Sebastian S. Mann, prominent member of post-WWII U.S. rocket development, has gone missing with other expedition members supposedly caving in South America. Having done so just days before revelations that he may have been responsible for the deaths of over two-hundred thousand gays, Jews, gypsies, and Romanian freedom fighters.

Years later, the male heirs of three missing members of Mann’s lost expedition meet up in deep Brazilian jungle to explore evidence finally turned up of their fathers’ possibly last campsite.

Brad Lexly and Kurt Mann, childhood friends and lovers, rekindle their previous passionate relationship but know its success, beyond the isolating jungle environment, depends upon an acceptable explanation for Sebastian Mann’s disappearance. More dangerous people than they, though, seek answers, too, and also provide definite possibilities for this expedition ending up just as missing as the one gone before it.

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Chapter One

Concern dilates my blue eyes as I glimpse snag-like treetops perilously close. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers through the unruly strands of my short-cropped, sweat-saturated blond hair. I swallow hard, and my mind flashes visions of horrendous disaster; no matter Jim Kenner has already proven his worth at the controls of this small single-engine plane. My stomach churns, giving rise to the nausea I’ve barely controlled throughout most of this wild roller-coaster-like ride through the turbulence percolating upward from the horizon-to-horizon South American jungle, and from the up-thrusts of ragged stone amongst all the greenery below us.

“Jim’s landings here are always a bit hairy,” Kurt Mann confesses, nervously chewing his lower lip. His violet eyes, purple against the mahogany tan of his face, are dark with concern, and the deep dimple in his right cheek isn’t punched there by amusement. Anxiously, he runs his large and well-formed fingers through his thatch-short curly black hair and, in doing so, contributes to the tousle of interlocking strands. (continue reading…)

This second title in a new gay mystery series is a fast-paced tale that melds mystery and erotica. When a lingerie manufacturer goes to Thailand on business, he gets far more than he bargained for. While innocently shopping for silk and taking in the sights of Bangkok, Stud Draqual finds himself being stalked by a mercenary — one who’s been implicated in the murder of a male prostitute.

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Prologue

Whoever slit Rhee Dulouk’s throat should never have let the victim, second mouth still bubbling blood, reach Jeff Billing. Billing would have been gone in another day … or two … or three. As he’d left the Philippines, Borneo, Bali. As he’d left Australia, Cambodia, Burma. As he’d left Spain, France, Germany.

For Billing, Thailand was just another stopover on the way to … he never knew to where … just somewhere.

Rhee Dulouk wasn’t even a great lay. He wasn’t even Billing’s type. He was just another wham-bam-thank-you-man someone. One of many. A diversion. An exotic. Another notch on Billing’s belt. One more fuck in Billing’s ongoing fuck of the world. A keeper, beyond the first fuck, only because of pillow-talk that interested Billing who knew a little something about Far-East antiquities. But not likely to keep Billing’s interest for long.

Therefore, Rhee Dulouk dead on someone else’s doorstep would have been one thing. After all, there had been plenty of other bodies in Billing’s life … in the deserts of the Gulf, in the mountains of Iraq, in the back alleys of Afghanistan. Bodies left behind. Throwaways. Job-product.

Rhee Dulouk dead on Billing’s doorstep, though … somehow … made the death personal. Not only to Billing but to me.

Though I sure as hell didn’t know it at the time. (continue reading…)

Unabashedly borrowing from the literary precedents set by John Guare’s Six Degrees of Separation and Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon, Slovakian Boy is a kaleidoscopic account of handsome young Pavel as seen through the eyes of interested — sometimes too interested — parties of family, friends, and fans. William Maltese’s narrative of a boy’s determined reinvention of himself as a porn god is a sexy romp through a rarely explored realm.

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“Who said—and when did he or she say— that Czechoslovakia, of which Slovakia was then a part, was ‘a faraway country, populated by a people of whom we know nothing’? Want to give it a try, Drahoslav?”

“Neville Chamberlain, British prime minister, 1939.”

“Very good. Although it was actually 1938. And why is Chamberlain, otherwise, so infamous, Andrea?”

“He signed the Munich Agreement which allowed Nazi Germany to appropriate a large part of Czechoslovakia.”

“Yes, he did. And after the Nazis, the Russians. The end of Communism, called what? And why? Bohuslava?” (continue reading…)

When the call first went out for perspective authors to contribute to an MLR Press anthology RED, I admit to having passed on the invitation. At the time, I just didn’t see how I could possibly manage the time and effort to write something within parameters that needed each contribution to include within its story-line not only a reference to red (the color and emotion), but to a drink of ice-cold water, a cricket, a pebble, and the scent of blood oranges. While usually as up to a challenge as the next person, I had other things to do, and I moved on to do them.

Awhile ago, while chatting on-line with Deana Jamroz, the graphic artist genius who does all of the MLR Press covers, as well as a generous contributor to my ARTISTS “DO” author WILLIAM MALTESE art collection, she provided me with a peek of two of her favorite covers which hadn’t yet seen publication; one of which was initially meant to accompany the anthology RED by-passed by so many other authors, besides me, that it had been shelved. My comment to Deana was that had I only known that the cover was going to be so damned spectacular, I would have signed on as a contributor in a New York minute. Decidedly visually oriented, and having bought more than one book for its cover, I likely wouldn’t have passed up buying RED, just for its cover, if and when I’d ever spotted it on any book shelf. (continue reading…)