Friday, August 10, 2012

Endings and Beginnings

So, my dear 33 followers...in an attempt to streamline my life a little bit, I think it is time to say goodbye to Blogger. At least, to my personal blog. I'll still be around on Four Strong Women. That won't change. But rather than continually double post to my website blog over on WordPress and to this blog, I have decided it is time to close this blog. It just makes sense from a time-saving and practical perspective. One site to maintain, especially since this is simply a mirror to the other. If you find my posts via Goodreads, Twitter, Facebook or Amazon, that won't change. The lovely Lex Valentine of Winterheart Design has magicked my WordPress blog to post automatically to those venues, so that won't change.

At this point, I invite you all to come on over and join me on my website blog, and continue to follow my shenanigans. I'll be closing this blog at the end of August, 2012.

Thank you all for following, and thank you Blogger for making this experience a relatively painless one.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Sunday Submissive Snog


 This kiss is from one of my current WIPs, a Rainbow Alley story featuring Jacob, who had a very brief fling with Cliff in Fix This, Sir, and his new love interest, Aaron. Aaron is a skateboarder hoping to make it onto the pro circuit,  but with a lot of issues from his past and his current life to overcome first.
"God. I want—" Aaron actually let out a small grunt from the effort of stopping his own words. He couldn't say it. Didn't deserve it. In the circle of his embrace, Jacob's body stiffened. Hands that looked more delicate than they actually were pressed against the small of Aaron's back.
"Want what?" Jacob asked.
You. Nothing else. Just you.
He didn't consciously move. His hands slid up Jacob's back as he leaned slightly away, holding his small, compact prize close while he moved enough to look at him. And there it was. That look. That supreme confidence that this submission to his will, to what Aaron wanted, would get him a kiss.
And again before he thought, Aaron was granting the unasked, bending, closing the space between them until hot breath poured from one mouth into the other through parted lips. So close. Aaron could count the passage of time in heartbeats, just as he could when he was in the air. All that existed was the perfection of the moment between take off and freefall. Each heartbeat was a lifetime, a blink of an eye, an eternity.
And Jacob remained perfectly still, willing, patient.
The first touch, lip to lip, wasn't a kiss. It was just a touch, a shared breath. Aaron explored the softness of the moment, tested Jacob's fragility and found only more strength to wait and accept.
More. His arms tightened, his head bent that last millimetre, and life rushed up at him in a kiss. Jacob was the parachute, the landing gear, the perfectly executed trick, Aaron's guarantee of a safe landing. Only he never wanted to come down. He wanted the soft moans he was hearing as they trickled into his mouth and the compliance, the utter and absolute acceptance that Jacob believed this gift was Aaron's due.
Don't forget to join the other authors in today's Snog-fest by visiting Victoria's blog and clicking the links! Happy Snog-day!

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Friend Release: The Statue by Zathyn Priest


So don't know how many of you know about my pal Zathyn. I 'met' him years ago in a chat room somewhere and he quickly revealed himself to be one of the nicest, most talent authors and artist I know. He's also generous to the point of insanity. Plus, he saved my sanity helping me out with this very website, and I could go on and on about how great he is, but I'm pretty sure he's already turning eight shades of red and cursing me for going on about him. He just doesn't know the impact he has on people, the glow he exudes, even over the net.

That and I love his writing and his art.

(And in case you didn't recognize it, that, right there, was a big ol' fangirl moment)

So, on to the point: The Statue:

Blurb: Freelance journalist, Tristan Church, wants to expose Galloway Mental Hospital’s dirty secrets. Teaming up with broody photographer, Mark, promises other perks. A ten year relationship with high school sweetheart, Eli, no longer offers Tristan the excitement he craves. Mark made his intentions clear and Tristan is close to giving in to his advances.

One morning at ‘The Gallows’ leaves Tristan reeling. He wasn’t prepared for the hell he witnessed and certainly wasn’t prepared to meet Zane. Disarmed by Zane’s angelic manner, Tristan can’t believe anyone would stand him up. He soon realises the tardy boyfriend only exists in Zane’s mind and the beautiful young man is not a visitor to The Gallows but a patient.

Eli walks out and Tristan’s life falls apart. A decision to meet with Mark almost ends in tragedy and Tristan finds solace in Zane’s company. Before long Zane’s delusions begin terrorising him again. While Tristan fights to save his own sanity and get Eli back, he knows someone must fight for Zane’s right to love a man no one else can see. A man who scares away violent hallucinations, takes away Zane’s fear, keeps him safe, and is trapped inside a stone statue.

Can I just say: I'm excited!!!

And here the purchase links:




or




Tuesday, May 22, 2012


Before I get into the prize, I just want to give my heartfelt thanks to all the organizers, bloggers and participants who took the time to visit all these blogs and speak up. It's like my new hero, Vic, says on his blog: One voice matters. Every voice matters. Your's might be the voice that changes a life. Or saves one. You do have that much power. Use it for good. :) 

 How often do we hear that story, like mine, even, where one voice, one answer to one question, would have made all the difference? Or the heartbreaking stories where one person's derision, intolernance, ignorance, or hurtful comment killed a person's spirit? Caused them to despair? Why do we think we have any less power because we speak a message of love and acceptance? We don't. 

We have as much capacity to do good, to help and lift up just by speaking up at the right time, and you know what? You might never know when the thing you said to the right person at the right time changed their lives forever. You probably will never know. And you don't have to. Because that isn't the point. Believe that what you say and do matters. For good or ill, we all leave our impact on the world, and it's up to every one of us to decide what our footprints look like.  

Not too long ago, I realized I was still waiting for that long ago answer to my question "Where does Ray sleep?" Even then, somewhere in the depths of my young mind, I knew the answer to that very simple question. What I wanted was someone to tell me it was okay. 

 No one did. No one could. Because there were four adults in that room, and no matter how much they all loved me, or each other, they could not say it was okay. Not even Uncle Cliff and Uncle Ray, who knew in their hearts and souls what they had was good and right, could tell a little girl it would be okay to grow up this way.

I don't for one second think they regretted loving each other, or being the people they were. But somewhere along the way, someone said something, did something, that changed their lives, and made it impossible for them to say it out loud. And more than anything I've gone through in my own life, more than any struggle I've had trying to figure my own truth out, that is the thing that breaks my heart. 

 So. Be the change you want to see in the world. I can't think of any better way to put it. It's the only way it will work.

And also, William Prater, you win, dude! Pick a book, let me know which one, and I'll send it along. I'll need your email address, though. I don't think I have it.
 

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Book Talk: Stalking Darkness by Lynn Flewelling

I'm having a nervous break down. seriously. I'm thinking I can't exactly explain the details of why that is without spoiling the book some, so I will give some fairly general reasons. 

First off, I know I started out with the Goodreads updates on the first book lamenting the perfection of the characters. If any of you noticed that, well, book two fleshes them out considerably, so I take all that back.

Alec is the perfect combination of smart and capable vs. naive and innocent that makes me want to sit down and have a serious chat about life, love and the universe with the lad. He is one reason I'm freaking out as I near the end of book two of this series.

Sergil is another reason. He's far more seasoned, so I have no illusions about his innocence. I do fear greatly for his stability, though. He's highly intense. Everything matters so much to him and he takes such great pains to show only that nothing means anything. Only he's cracked. Breaking apart at this point, and it's doubtful he can survive the emotional impact of what's happening to Alec.

Micum is their rock, and I fear for him the most because I have my suspicions who the Vanguard really is, and that does not bode well for Micum's survival. At. All. but he's such a *nice* guy. Stable, strong, level-headed. In short, the perfect authorial sacrifice. The one who least deserves to die, and therefore, probably the most likely one not to see the end of the quest. Sucktastic.

And finally, Nysander. On death's door, so you know he's going to survive. But in the end, I fear I might not like the old guy so much. He kept so many secrets. Even lied to people who trusted him. Maybe he really did believe he had reasons, but I don't know if I'll be able to forgive him when it's time for the body count. Plus, he was weak as far as his assistant Thero was concerned and either Thero will be the next series blackened wizard of evil doom (I forget what they're called, but they aren't pretty) or he died a horrible death because his mentor failed him.

Or, and here's where the nervous breakdown comes in, I've got everything wrong and the surprises will kill me. Or, I got it all right and it will rip my heart out to read it. I'm already broken over Alec, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't seen the worst of it yet.

So, well done Lynn. You win this round. You've made me hate on you and admire the crap out of you all at once. This book is killing me. (Which means it's some of the best writing I've come across in quite some time, because if I didn't care, I wouldn't be lamenting it on my blog)

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Yes, it's random "Friend Release" day. Today, Michele L. Montgomery is up, and I'm pretty excited about it because this woman has been a big influence on me and my writing lately. She's always been a support with her reviews  and her cheery outlook, but more recently, I'm happy to say she's become a friend and given me loads of inspiration and encouragement to keep going. 

 So imagine my glee that today I get to reciprocate and plug her efforts. Her new release, Damnit! came out a few weeks ago, and while I haven't read it yet, I do have it in the quay, and it's looking like it's going to be a great read.

Damnit! The Blurb

Escaping the past isn’t easy, especially when the scars left behind are a constant reminder that trust and love can hurt.

Michael McKnight knows what it means to be on the run from memories. Years ago, after fleeing an abusive relationship, he was brutally stabbed and left for dead. His only savior had been a  compassionate stranger he’d only gotten a glimpse of before slipping into the blackness that claimed him.

 For Michael, recovery was an arduous and hard fought return to some semblance of normalcy. He rebuilds his life, spending his waking hours buried in work and fighting to forget the past. And his life seems to be going well until he finds out that his cousin Wayne is being held captive in a mental asylum for being gay.

So he buys a plane ticket and flies out to rescue his cousin. But the weather is against Michael, keeping him grounded and talking to a man who claims that he’d once saved his life and is willing to help him rescue his cousin. Can this man be for real or is something more sinister in the works?

Damnit! The Buy link

Damnit! The Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE


“Do you think it’s at all possible to make this yellow thing go any faster than it already is? I have a flight to catch and it’s one I can’t afford to miss. It’s not like we’re stuck in traffic here. Its three a.m., there’s no one in front of you.”

“No, no. Not possible. Snow make it hard to drive. Why you leave before sun shine? Maybe it make snow go away, eh?”

Michael groaned and slid down further in the backseat. His fingers tapped on the door, showing his impatience. He looked out all of the windows and cursed the falling snow. And it wasn’t just falling. Oh no, that would be putting it lightly. It was coming down in blizzard fashion, and he had to fly in this? 

Michael exhaled. God, how he hated to travel; it was like a train wreck waiting to happen. Or a plane wreck. Whatever. Turbulence that felt as if the damn plane were attached to a bungee cord that could snap at any moment, lost luggage, then an engine failure that caused an emergency landing had just about sworn him off flying for good. Just the thought of it made him shudder. The lost luggage thing hadn’t been so bad, though. He did get to shop for some replacement clothes and found a pair of jeans that made his ass look fabulous, if he did say so himself, so there was that sparkly plus to an otherwise crappy experience. But still.

Flights after that had somehow managed to go smoothly, but now this mess. First, his alarm clock had malfunctioned, waking him up to Ozzy at two o’clock in the morning. And who in their right mind plays Ozzy at that time of the day? Damn alarm clock. It was supposed to go off at four. He’d lain in bed glaring at the evil thing, trying to decide if he should just get up, get his shower, and have his coffee, or go back to sleep. Getting up had won out because he couldn’t trust the alarm would go off again at four. Needless to say, the damn thing was 
now in the incinerator. 

To make matters worse, the snow had continued to fall, all the way to the airport, “making” the cab driver proceed cautiously, as in driving twenty miles an hour all the way down the freeway. This lovely ride was now coming up on an hour long, and he lived not twenty minutes from the massive circus tent the people in Colorado called D.I.A. The cab driver, who drove like it was a Sunday morning with nowhere to go, was doing his damndest to make him late, but somehow, someway, they were finally pulling up to the departures curb. 

Michael let the cab slow to a rolling stop, then threw open the door, prompting an angry outburst from the driver, in a language Michael couldn’t hope to understand. If he had to guess, he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t thanking him for the great conversation and charming company. 

He checked in with the skycap and then ran to the security gate, arriving breathless, ticket and ID in hand, only to come to a parking lot of people of all shapes, sizes, and colors, none of them moving or looking at all happy. Everyone and their mother had decided to travel at the same damn time as him, just his luck, and here he’d thought that by taking the early flight, the airport would be quieter, certainly less busy than this. Somberly, he stood in line and tried to ignore the couple behind him with their two screaming kids. Who in their right mind traveled with kids? The poor things had to get up early, probably missed breakfast, and then got dumped into this madness.

Time ticked on. And on. And on. Then finally, after twenty minutes of thanking God he was gay and would never reproduce, it was his turn. Like a well seasoned traveler, he had his shoes off, his pockets emptied, and his belt and laptop in the plastic bin, ready to go. He walked through the machine, then heard a noise that sounded a lot like, Ahhh! That same noise his aunt had made at him when he was little and doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He froze in place and stared at the security guard on the other side of the yellow line, motioning for him to come hither. Fear took hold like a fist in his belly, his heart thumping, and he stood there, paralyzed, because everyone was staring at him as though he were public enemy number one on the US government’s No-Fly List. Oh God, he knew he’d done something wrong or that guy wouldn’t be signaling to him, pointing him out and making his face heat up and break out in a sweat.

“Sir, please step this way. You’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, good Christ, why me?” he said, wishing he could disappear right at that very moment. He moved toward the guard, the cold tile floor making his bare feet all the more uncomfortable, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“Arms out to your sides, sir,” the guard said. He sounded annoyed, at that.

“Yes, sir,” Michael said, doing as he was told. Like this, of all things, was exactly what he needed to have happen, and right now? Why was it every time he traveled, shit happened to him? 

Up one side and down the other went the wand as he stood there sweating from embarrassment, but it was amazingly quiet. He cocked his head to the side and snickered as if to ask, now what?

“Please step to your left and the next available guard will be right with you.”

Michael groaned and looked at the man. “But…why? Your wand thingy didn’t beep.”

The guard raised his left eyebrow, lowered his head. “You’ll want to Step to your left now, sir.”

“But, what about my stuff? My laptop cost me a…”

“It’s safe and sound. Please, step to your left. Next.”

And with that, Michael was dismissed. He fought the urge to growl again and did as he was told. Did he look like a terrorist? And, for that matter, what did they even look like? He moaned inwardly, sighed and rolled his eyes. Why had he even agreed to do this? Oh, that’s right, he hadn’t. He was being forced to do this. Well, not exactly forced, but if he didn’t do it, he’d be worse for the wear, and a shitty cousin, on top of it. Then he saw what the man in front of him was being put through, and his dick suddenly woke up. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Frisk? They frisk you now?” he said to no one in particular.

“I’m putting it up to a free feel, personally. Perverted bastards. I swear, if a man touches me, I’m throwing down on him. Nasty creatures, groping paws all over this hot body. I want a woman!”

Michael looked to his right, and a laugh escaped before he had a chance to swallow it down. The girl standing next to him had red and orange hair and eye makeup so thick he was sure if he’d scraped his nail across it, no one would’ve been able to tell, bright pink eye makeup, at that; the girl must have been color blind. “What are they looking for?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know. What do they think, that we’re all armed and hiding said weapons in our bodily orifices? Not very sanitary!”

Michael grew lightheaded as a wave of panic shot through his body. He swallowed hard a few times, his throat like sandpaper scraping against rock. “Oh shit, do they actually check those open ports? Here, in front of God and everyone?”

“Hell if I know. This is my first ride since all the bullshit started with those insane, flying acrobat wannabe’s. All I know is that no man is touching me. Do you hear that?” she yelled, raising her voice with every syllable. 

One look at Mr. Gorgeous—tall, muscular, blond, and blue-as-sky eyes—frisking everyone, and Michael’s dick started dancing about in his pants. He was a goner, just wonderful. Six months without any action, whatsoever, and little man down below starts his happy dancing at the mere idea of being groped by a beefy, blonde TSA agent. “This is so not my day.”

“Next!”

“Good luck, Mister. Don’t let them shove their fingers up you, unless they have a glove and lube!”

He swayed with dizziness. “What?”

“Cavity search. Haven’t you ever watched Lifetime?”

He was pretty sure his heart was going to go ahead and explode from stress. Or maybe he’d just have a nice aneurism and escape this humiliation altogether. When he walked up to the rather large man standing near the… “I have to undress?”

“Sir. Please raise your arms out to the side and spread your legs.”

“With my clothes on, right?” Though the guard was all kinds of hot and muscular, Michael wasn’t good with having a stranger’s digits entering his body, at any time. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Once Michael did as he was instructed, he saw the man slip a pair of latex gloves on, and he yelped, “Oh my God! What are those for?”

“I’m only going to frisk you.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Random search, that’s all. Do you have something to hide? You seem a little nervous.”

“No! No, nothing to hide. I emptied my pockets and took off my shoes and belt, so I don’t understand why I’m being… Oh!”

“Sorry, sir. It’s part of my job.”

“Touching a man’s penis is part of your job?”

“No, sir, that was a slip. I apologize. Please turn around.”

Michael turned, as he was instructed, and jumped as that big hand had made its way up the inside of his thigh and back down again. As far as his dick was concerned, this was foreplay, and it made him achingly hard. 

Add sexual frustration to his already overdone day. And it hadn’t even hit seven o’clock in the morning yet.

“Okay, sir. You’re free to go.”

“I’m clear?”

“Yes,” the man answered with a gleam in his eye Michael took as lust.

“Right, so you didn’t find anything?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did find…something. But it’s not a danger to anyone other than you if you don’t get it taken care of.”

The man grinned, patted Michael’s shoulder, and said, “You’re just fine. Next!”

Michael didn’t miss the other man’s suggestive look or what he’d been looking for. Random search, indeed. He offered a slight nod, cleared his throat, resumed his regular breathing pattern, and concentrated on walking to his personal items, with a hard on he was doing his best to hide.

“Oh man, that looks painful. If I was into dudes, I’d sure take you into the restroom and help you out with that.”

Michael couldn’t have been any more embarrassed if he tried. Make-up girl again. “Have you no couth?”

She laughed and sauntered over to her items, then came back to sit beside him. “None. Not at all, whatsoever. What’s the point? If you hide your true self from the world, they’ll never know you were here. It’s not like I’m ever going to see these snobs again, and if I do, they’ll remember me. You? I’ll remember you cuz when Mr. Sexy back there felt you up, you popped a woody and he, while you were turned around, grinned like a schoolboy. He liked it.”

“Oh, you’re bad. Shameless is what you are. And for your information, men have no control over how their penises react to certain situations. It’s a normal reaction.”

Damnit! The Buy link
(again, just in case you missed it the first time :D )

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Book Talk: Her Two Dads by Ariel Tachna



It's no secret I love this author. I've talked about her work often enough that it should be pretty clear she's one of my absolute favorites. Still, I wasn't sure I was going to read this book, because, well, she's so prolific that I just don't have time to read them all, and I have a whole list of her other titles I still want to get to.

Well, what decided me was Audible. It was available there and I had a credit, so I picked it up and besides, I was curious how it would be to listen to a m/m book read by a woman. I don't remember the reader's name, but I have to say, she does a spectacular job. (although, I'm not sure if the ipad is glitching, or if there are a few spots where the editing is off, and some short bits of narrative are repeated. It's happened a couple of times, but I can live with that.)

I'm not sure how close to the end I am, but probably pretty close, because things seem to be wrapping up nicely, the lives of this little family coming together, and everything. I admit, there were times I wanted to slap Jaime upside the head for his...well...typical man behavior, but I never outright didn't like him. He has issues with letting people around him feel how they're going to feel, and he kind of defaults to assuming they'll feel the worst, but still, he does give Sri a strong foundation, and I think towards the end of the book, there's hope he'll begin to be a little more open minded about the people who love him.

As for Sri, Sophi's biological dad, well...if a man more suited to fatherhood exists...obviously, this is fiction, and even giving him his insecurities and his ignorance, Ms. Tachna created a man who was simply born to be a father. There's really nothing to not like about him.

Basically, what I'm saying is that I'm glad I picked this book up. It's been a wonderful break from all the angst I'm writing at the moment, and a bright spot in my days as I listen to it.

Thanks, Ariel. (And sorry if I spelled character names wrong. Hard to know how you spell them in audio)

Buy it: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1891