Treadmill Week 62 & What I #amreading – The Rake, the Rogue, and the Roué by Eric Alan Westfall

Treadmill Goals:

  • Get on the treadmill (or equivalent exercise) daily
  • Pace is fine at 30 min/mile, although I may up it on occasion
  • Time range between 30 minutes and 1 hour per day
  • Distance 1-2 miles per day
  • Read the chosen book, which I won’t allow myself to read outside of my treadmill time, hopefully motivating me to reach or exceed the above goals (exception…at the end of the week where a book is highlighted, I will finish it off-treadmill so I can feature something new the next week)

Note: Although I will try to avoid them, my weekly #amreading updates may or may not contain spoilers, so read at your own risk.

What I #amreading: The Rake, The Rogue, and the Roué by Eric Alan Westfall

I’ve been intending to make a point of reading books from each of the other members of the Midwest Writers of LGBTQ Fiction group. I’ve already read some of Sarah Hadley Brook’s stories, and I’m continuing this week with a long one from Eric Alan Westfall. I’ll continue next week with a story by A.T. Weaver, then B.G. Thomas, then Dean Frech. It’ll be rereads on the last two, but it’s been a while, so I’m due for a refresher. There are more members I haven’t met yet, so more reading to schedule down the road! ♡

My favorite lines this week:

23250398✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿

Would he do it himself in a fit of rage, confident the House of Lords would understand the justifiable homicide of a sodomite heir and acquit him? Or would he resort to a pair, a trio, a quartet of bandits crying “Stand and deliver!” as I passed through Hounslow Heath, followed by a pair, a trio, a quartet of bullets to ensure I never again stood or delivered anything?

✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿

Stone walls may not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, but the stentorian voice of the duchess of Alderson’s butler succeeded.


He wasn’t angry, nor was he exuding the type of glacial cold I later became adept at using to depress pretensions. But the warmth was gone.


The proprietor did little to protect his corridors and rooms from wandering patrons, probably based on the well-founded belief there would be little to nothing worth stealing.


I smelled. Not the good, clean smell of having worked in a field on a spring day. Not the smell of leather and weather, or sweat after a hunt. Not the smell of a bout at Antoine’s or a round in the ring at Gentleman Jackson’s. Not even the smell of private sex. I smelled of sex on the Dock.

✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿

Mama having, for quite obvious reasons, known me all my life, discerned my dithering, as others did not, but mistook the meaning.


I did not gasp or inhale, only held my breath at the audacity. Mama was, I thought, more amused than confused, for she knew Michel well. The poor Benningtons were plainly…an unfortunate word to apply to the pair…confused.

Week 62: January 28, 2018 – February 3, 2018

Sunday  30 min/mile  31:32 min:sec  1 mile
Monday  30 min/mile  31:07 min:sec  1 mile
Tuesday  30 min/mile  30:41 min:sec  1 mile
Wednesday  30 min/mile  30:46 min:sec  1 mile
Thursday  30 min/mile  32:18 min:sec  1 mile
Friday  30 min/mile  31:48 min:sec  1 mile
Saturday  30 min/mile  34:55 min:sec  1.1 miles

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