tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60913868164637623722024-03-13T13:32:09.833-04:00The Fictional World of Jaime SammsWriting and loving without apologyJaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-63325849692251506282019-02-19T00:00:00.000-05:002019-02-19T11:31:38.876-05:00Friend Release - Scott Coatsworth with Ithani<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3R5Do35HmNPsrtfM-ZvwgXTgfBt4EYhZLG2ugVdryY-wO-xXpEljkTL8JRpwuzXaiPWLaJJNKZuzCfB5iN_XRzd_o72m_FfwZ5_0jZ6xr0FBkNRNLY7WD3q1N2cexAvsx5cFwjB_77w/s1600/Ithani_FBbanner_DSP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="849" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3R5Do35HmNPsrtfM-ZvwgXTgfBt4EYhZLG2ugVdryY-wO-xXpEljkTL8JRpwuzXaiPWLaJJNKZuzCfB5iN_XRzd_o72m_FfwZ5_0jZ6xr0FBkNRNLY7WD3q1N2cexAvsx5cFwjB_77w/s640/Ithani_FBbanner_DSP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I can't tell you how please I am to have Scott drop by my blog to share his new release. This series has had rave reviews all the way through, and I'm sure this installment will be no different! Plus. the covers. SO loveley. </center>
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Don't be shy. Scroll on down for an excerpt and the link to Scott's giveaway.</center>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NDMJRBM/" target="_blank"><img alt="Ithani" height="901" src="https://otherworldsink.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/COVER-Ithani.jpg" width="600" /></a></center>
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The final MM sci fi book in J. Scott Coatsworth's "Oberon Cycle" trilogy is out - "Ithani"!</div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
The Blurb</h3>
<br />
Time is running out.<br />
<br />
<br />
After saving the world twice, Xander, Jameson and friends plunge headlong into a new crisis. The ithani--the aliens who broke the world--have reawakened from their hundred millennia-long slumber. When Xander and Jameson disappear in a flash, an already fractured world is thrown into chaos.<br />
<br />
<br />
The ithani plans, laid a hundred thousand years before, are finally coming to pass, and they threaten all life on Erro. Venin and Alix go on a desperate search for their missing and find more than they bargained for. And Quince, Robin and Jessa discover a secret as old as the skythane themselves.<br />
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<br />
Will alien technology, unexpected help from the distant past, destiny and some good old-fashioned firepower be enough to defeat an enemy with the power to split a world? The final battle of the epic science fiction adventure that began in Skythane will decide the fate of lander and skythane alike.<br />
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And in the north, the ithani rise…<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/Oberon%20Cycle%20Trilogy"><img alt="Oberon Cycle Trilogy" height="475" src="https://otherworldsink.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/oberon-cycle-trilogy.jpg" width="600" /></a><br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Ithani Buy Links</strong></h3>
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<a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/ithani-by-j-scott-coatsworth-10236-b" target="_blank">Dreamspinner eBook</a> | <a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/ithani-by-j-scott-coatsworth-10237-b" target="_blank">Dreamspinner Paperback</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NDMJRBM/" target="_blank">Amazon eBook</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1644051125/" target="_blank">Amazon Paperback</a> | <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/ithani/id1447589270?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a> | <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ithani-j-scott-coatsworth/1130033186?ean=9781644051115" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/J_Scott_Coatsworth_Ithani?id=3DWADwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/ithani" target="_blank">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.queeromanceink.com/book/ithani/" target="_blank">QueeRomance Ink</a> | <a href="https://www.queeromanceink.com/book/skythane/" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></center>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Book 1: Skythane:</strong></h3>
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<a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/skythane-by-j-scott-coatsworth-8154-b">Dreamspinner eBook</a> | <a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/skythane-by-j-scott-coatsworth-8155-b">Dreamspinner Paperback</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01MUF8D9G/">Amazon Kindle</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1635334039/">Amazon paperback</a> | <a href="https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1195468498?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Skythane">iBooks</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/skythane-j-scott-coatsworth/1125557133?ean=9781635334036">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Skythane?id=yunmDQAAQBAJ&hl=en_GB" target="_blank">Google Play</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/skythane">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.queeromanceink.com/book/skythane/" target="_blank">QueeRomance Ink</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33899235-skythane?from_search=true">Goodreads</a></center>
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<strong>Book Two: Lander:</strong></h3>
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<a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/lander-by-j-scott-coatsworth-9317-b">Dreamspinner eBook</a> | <a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/lander-by-j-scott-coatsworth-9318-b">Dreamspinner Paperback</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B079G4DL3W/" target="_blank">Amazon Kindle</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1640804773/" target="_blank">Amazon Paperback</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/lander/id1333640753?mt=11">iBooks</a> | <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lander-j-scott-coatsworth/1127876852?ean=9781640804777">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/J_Scott_Coatsworth_Lander?id=zKRFDwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lander-4">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.queeromanceink.com/book/lander/">QueeRomance Ink</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38088645-lander">Goodreads</a></center>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Giveaway</strong></h3>
<br />
Scott is giving away a $50 Amazon gift card and ten copies of "The Stark Divide," the first book in his other trilogy, "Liminal Sky," with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="b60e8d4753" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4753/" id="rcwidget_cxb78nl8" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script><br />
<br />
Direct Link: <a href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4753/?" target="_blank">http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4753/?</a><br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Excerpt</strong></h3>
<br />
Venin stood under the dome of the chapel, the waters of the Orn rushing past the small island to crash over the edge of the crater rim, where they fell a thousand meters to the broken city of Errian below.<br />
<br />
The Erriani chapel was different from what he was used to back home. The Gaelani chapel in Gaelan had sat at the top of a tall pillar of stone, open to the night sky, a wide space of grass and trees that intertwined in a natural dome through which moonlight filtered down to make dappled shadows on the ground.<br />
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<br />
This chapel, instead, was a wonder of streaming sunlight, the columns a polished eggshell marble with glimmering seams of gold. Red creeper vines climbed up the columns, festooned with clusters of yellow flowers that gave off a sweet scent.<br />
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<br />
Both were bright and airy, but the Erriani chapel lay under a dome supported by fluted marble columns, a painted arch of daytime sky and the rose-colored sun blazing overhead.<br />
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<br />
The last time he’d gone to chapel had been with Tazim, before his untimely death.<br />
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Long before the troubles that roiled the world now.<br />
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<br />
Something drew him back. A need to reconnect with his past. To bridge the gap between then and now, between who he was and who he had become. Taz would have liked this place.<br />
<br />
The chapel here had survived the attack, while much of Errian had not. The city below was a jumble of broken corrinder, the multistory plants that were the main building stock for the city. They would grow again, but the sight of the city’s beautiful white towers laid low struck him to the core.<br />
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<br />
So had Gaelan looked, after the flood.<br />
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<br />
Venin turned back to the chapel and unlaced his boots, baring his muscular calves before he approached the fountain that splashed at its center. The cool flagstone beneath his feet sent a shiver up his spine, and green moss filled the gaps between the stones.<br />
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<br />
Some builder whose name was lost to time had tapped into the river itself to make the fountain run, and the water leapt into the air with a manic energy around the golden statue of Erro, before falling back down to the pool.<br />
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Venin knelt at the fountain’s edge on one of the well-worn pads, laid his hands in the shallow water, and let his wings rest over himself, making a private place to pray.<br />
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<em>Erro and Gael, spare us from danger and lift us up into the sky with your powerful wings. </em>He gave Erro deference, being that this was his chapel, but he hoped Gael would hear him too. The god of his own people had been known to intervene in mortal affairs before, and if what Quince had told them about these <em>ithani</em>was true, they would need all the help they could get.<br />
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Venin’s wings warmed.<br />
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<br />
He looked up in astonishment to see the statue of Erro giving off an intense golden glow. His mouth dropped open, and he stood and stared at its beautiful male curves and muscles. Maybe the gods were answering him.<br />
<br />
<br />
Venin reached up and touched the statue’s outstretched hand. The shock knocked him backward onto his ass, and he hit the ground hard, slamming into one of the marble columns.<br />
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<br />
Venin groaned, stunned, and reached back to feel his wings and spine. He seemed to be in one piece.<br />
<br />
Taz would have laughed his ass off at the whole thing.<br />
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<br />
After a moment he sat up cautiously. He wrapped his arms around his legs and stared up at the statue, his chin on his knees.<br />
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<br />
The glow was gone.<br />
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<em>Did I imagine it? </em>He stood and felt the back of his head. A lump was already forming there. <em>That’s gonna leave a mark.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
Something had changed. Venin didn’t know what yet, but he was sure of that much.<br />
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He pulled his boots back on and laced them up. With one last suspicious glare at the statue, he turned and stepped out of the chapel, taking a deep breath of the moisture-laden air.<br />
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<br />
Then he leapt into the sky to soar down to the broken city.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Author Bio</strong></h3>
<br />
<em>Scott lives with his husband of twenty five years in a Sacramento suburb, in a cute little yellow house with a brick fireplace and two pink flamingoes out front.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
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<em>He inhabits in the space between the here and now and the what could be. Indoctrinated into science fiction and fantasy by his mom at the tender age of nine, he quickly finished her entire library. But he soon began to wonder where all the queer people were.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
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<em>After coming out at twenty three, he started writing the kinds of stories he couldn't find at Crown Books. If there weren't many queer characters in his favorite genres, he would will them into existence, subverting them to his own ends. And if he was lucky enough, someone else would want to read them.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
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<em>His friends say Scott's mind works a little differently than most - he makes connections between ideas that others don't, and somehow does more in a day than most people manage in a week. Although born an introvert, he forced himself to reach outside himself, and learned to connect with others like him.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
<em>Scott's stories subvert expectations that transform traditional science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary worlds into something different and unexpected. He runs both Queer Sci Fi and QueeRomance Ink with his husband Mark.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
<em>His romance and genre fiction writing brings a queer energy to his stories, filling them with love, beauty and power. He imagines how the world could be - in the process, he hopes to change the world, just a little.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
<em>Scott was recognized as one of the top new gay authors in the 2017 Rainbow Awards, and his debut novel "Skythane" received two awards and an honorable mention.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
You can find him at Dreamspinner <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_1189">here</a>, Goodreads <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth?from_search=true">here</a>, on Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ">here</a>, on QueeRomance Ink <a href="https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/">here</a>, and on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth">here</a>.<br />
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<br />Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-44150057078099359932019-02-11T20:37:00.000-05:002019-02-11T20:37:08.499-05:00Sunday Entertainment (but on Monday because...<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
because,
well. I didn't feel like turning on the computer yesterday, to be honest. But I
have gathered a few links and things that I found interesting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
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This first one, I totally stole from Amy Lane
because I thought it was a very good point. Now I know that my
"career" as a writer is already a creative one, but my
"hobbies" are of a totally different creative bent and exercise completely
different creative muscles. So here's the article. It's very short. Go have a
read.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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https://hbr.org/2019/02/why-you-should-work-less-and-spend-more-time-on-hobbies?fbclid=IwAR0TWwbCw2XesTyEyivn-z7wjEmsXE0bZKIhI1VnyU4VBTw06utld3hlGvE<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
also found an inspiring story on YouTube about dancers who don’t hear and
musicians who don’t see. Check out the video of their story here. This is truly
a performance I would be privileged and honoured to see.
</span><iframe allowfullscreen="true" allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="315" scrolling="no" src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fgreatbigstory%2Fvideos%2F1153891321452107%2F&show_text=0&width=560" style="border-style: none; border-width: initial; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; overflow: hidden;" width="560"></iframe><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/greatbigstory/videos/1153891321452107/UzpfSTEzMDA0MDAzMzE6MTAyMTgxMDU5MTY4MjE2Nzc/?sk=wall" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">https://www.facebook.com/greatbigstory/videos/1153891321452107/UzpfSTEzMDA0MDAzMzE6MTAyMTgxMDU5MTY4MjE2Nzc/?sk=wall</a></div>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And
finally, a little game of pick three. Now, normally, there are always three
items on the list that are head and shoulders more important to me than the
rest, making the choice easy for me. Not this time. I mean, at first blush, coffee goes without saying. And
obviously books. Because hello. How can I give up books when making them is
what I do? And then there is Netflix. Because everyone needs downtime. But then
I would have to give up my dog, and hells no, that is not happening. And I
would give away the chance to be owned by any more cats, also not okay. And Cheese!
I mean seriously. Who can give up all the cheese forever? Not I, I say! That
leaves tacos, make-up, jewellery and chocolate. But I really like shiny things,
as anyone who has ever been inside a mall or at a market of any kind with me
can attest. So then, let’s play “give up three” no brainer. Tacos, outta there.
Make-up, I can live without it. Chocolate is nice, but not the end of the world.
Your turn. Pick three.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-no-proof: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-24273381119856893232019-02-02T19:54:00.000-05:002019-02-02T19:54:01.855-05:00Back to Basics<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So...six? or maybe even seven years ago, I thought I would put
this blog to bed and move everything to one space on WordPress. I've been
having various kinds of blog nightmares ever since. So I've decided to go back
to basics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">While my website is in flux and
not working (and I am really, really sorry about that. I'm working in it, I promise)
I will blog here, and later, link this blog to the website once it's back up. I
know Blogger, it works, and I can use it how I like. So, welcome back!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Have a picture of my pup
because he's really very adorable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiyIBST3GBA0rD6wEo7e9TXcNTXrO8VhTIIfn1wg27Vfo_0TVPzgJeqFlgj7xcQcj_i3qzMe06_HyNqeQ6LmlUpJ9MYiwOzFia_ZUbLnI0VGaAqnkuk5u5mSY1SMjdAD-GuBZ8FFwptI/s1600/2019-01-18+10.08.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiyIBST3GBA0rD6wEo7e9TXcNTXrO8VhTIIfn1wg27Vfo_0TVPzgJeqFlgj7xcQcj_i3qzMe06_HyNqeQ6LmlUpJ9MYiwOzFia_ZUbLnI0VGaAqnkuk5u5mSY1SMjdAD-GuBZ8FFwptI/s320/2019-01-18+10.08.51.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Well. Okay.
Sometimes, he's a bit of a jerk when it comes to letting me take a good pick of
him, but MOST of the time, he's unconscionably cute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-80049167968082496392012-08-10T12:15:00.000-04:002012-08-10T12:15:39.097-04:00Endings and BeginningsSo, 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 <a href="http://winterheart.com/" target="_blank">Winterheart Design</a> has magicked my WordPress blog to post automatically to those venues, so that won't change.<br />
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At this point, I invite you all to come on over and join me on my <a href="http://jaime-samms.net/posts/" target="_blank">website blog,</a> and continue to follow my shenanigans. I'll be closing this blog at the end of August, 2012.<br />
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Thank you all for following, and thank you Blogger for making this experience a relatively painless one.Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-9338851361090913212012-08-05T11:51:00.003-04:002012-08-05T11:52:01.577-04:00Sunday Submissive Snog<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/08/05/sunday-submissive-snog/sundaysnog-4/" rel="attachment wp-att-1292"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1292" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/sundaysnog.png" title="sundaysnog" /></a><br />
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.
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<blockquote>
"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.</blockquote>
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"Want what?" Jacob asked.</blockquote>
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<em>You. Nothing else. Just you.</em>
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<blockquote>
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.
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
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.
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
And Jacob remained perfectly still, willing, patient.
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<blockquote>
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.
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<blockquote>
<em>More. </em>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.</blockquote>
Don't forget to join the other authors in today's Snog-fest by visiting <a href="http://victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/sunday-snog-fulfilling-submission" target="_blank">Victoria's blog</a> and clicking the links! Happy Snog-day!Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-12696274263033232112012-05-23T14:28:00.000-04:002012-05-23T14:28:51.884-04:00Friend Release: The Statue by Zathyn Priest<br />
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.<br />
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That and I love his writing and his art.<br />
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(And in case you didn't recognize it, that, right there, was a big ol' fangirl moment)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1182" rel="attachment wp-att-1182" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-1182" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/The-Statue-b-212x300.jpg" title="The Statue b" width="212" /></a>So, on to the point: <em>The Statue</em>:<br />
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<strong>Blurb:</strong> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Can I just say: I'm excited!!!<br />
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And here the purchase links:</div>
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<a href="http://scarlettiebooks.com/?page_id=262" target="_blank">http://scarlettiebooks.com/?<wbr></wbr>page_id=262</a></div>
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or</div>
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<a href="http://zathynpriest.com/brokenpencil/?page_id=970" target="_blank">http://zathynpriest.com/<wbr></wbr>brokenpencil/?page_id=970</a></div>
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<br />Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-63601625856287520062012-05-22T13:26:00.001-04:002012-05-22T13:26:28.699-04:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1173" rel="attachment wp-att-1173"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-1173" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Hop-22-225x300.png" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 10px; margin: 10px;" title="Hop 2" width="225" /></a><br />
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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. :) </div>
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How often do we hear that story, <a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/05/17/the-saddest-story-i-know/" target="_blank">like mine</a>, 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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1176" height="336" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/be-the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world_22.jpg" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; line-height: 18px; margin: 10px;" title="be-the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world_2" width="500" /><br />
And also, <strong>William Prater</strong>, 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.</div>
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</div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-60764639528395084072012-05-09T22:46:00.001-04:002012-05-10T09:58:19.700-04:00Book Talk: Stalking Darkness by Lynn Flewelling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">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. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JbhOZ9TNpEdqmn0-SAs596W7UdRR-JV7a2WBaeAJjxTQcGXTRUsDDxlp0-jSsICM0MyGBqlwK53m9n-o5tIm44jYYwwyPaSyUOsPPg8bCPn1gQhOO1UqueW3Kt_m963tIh3J0gdOvoI/s1600/stalking_darkness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JbhOZ9TNpEdqmn0-SAs596W7UdRR-JV7a2WBaeAJjxTQcGXTRUsDDxlp0-jSsICM0MyGBqlwK53m9n-o5tIm44jYYwwyPaSyUOsPPg8bCPn1gQhOO1UqueW3Kt_m963tIh3J0gdOvoI/s320/stalking_darkness.jpg" width="193" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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)</div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-20235465956299895082012-04-26T12:45:00.000-04:002012-04-26T12:45:36.253-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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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. <br />
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So imagine my glee that today I get to reciprocate and plug her efforts. Her new release, <em>Damnit!</em> 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.
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/04/26/friend-release-damnit-by-michele-montgomery/dammit1/" rel="attachment wp-att-1139" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright wp-image-1139" height="380" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/dammit1.gif" title="dammit(1)" width="254" /></a></div>
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<strong><em>Damnit!</em> The Blurb</strong></div>
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<em>Escaping the past isn’t easy, especially when the scars left behind are a constant reminder that trust and love can hurt.</em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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?
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<strong><em>Damnit!</em> The Buy link</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> <a href="http://www.seventhwindow.com/index.php?main_page=product_music_info&cPath=&products_id=46">http://www.seventhwindow.com/index.php?main_page=product_music_info&cPath=&products_id=46</a></div>
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<em><strong>Damnit! </strong></em><strong>The Excerpt</strong></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">CHAPTER ONE</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“No, no. Not possible. Snow make it hard to drive. Why you leave before sun shine? Maybe it make snow go away, eh?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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? </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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 </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">now in the incinerator. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Sir, please step this way. You’re holding up the line.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Arms out to your sides, sir,” the guard said. He sounded annoyed, at that.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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? </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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?</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Please step to your left and the next available guard will be right with you.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Michael groaned and looked at the man. “But…why? Your wand thingy didn’t beep.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The guard raised his left eyebrow, lowered his head. “You’ll want to Step to your left now, sir.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“But, what about my stuff? My laptop cost me a…”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“It’s safe and sound. Please, step to your left. Next.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Frisk? They frisk you now?” he said to no one in particular.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Fuck if I know. What do they think, that we’re all armed and hiding said weapons in our bodily orifices? Not very sanitary!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Next!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Good luck, Mister. Don’t let them shove their fingers up you, unless they have a glove and lube!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">He swayed with dizziness. “What?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Cavity search. Haven’t you ever watched Lifetime?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Sir. Please raise your arms out to the side and spread your legs.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Yes, sir.” </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“I’m only going to frisk you.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Can I ask why?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Random search, that’s all. Do you have something to hide? You seem a little nervous.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Sorry, sir. It’s part of my job.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Touching a man’s penis is part of your job?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“No, sir, that was a slip. I apologize. Please turn around.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Add sexual frustration to his already overdone day. And it hadn’t even hit seven o’clock in the morning yet.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Okay, sir. You’re free to go.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“I’m clear?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Yes,” the man answered with a gleam in his eye Michael took as lust.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Right, so you didn’t find anything?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The man grinned, patted Michael’s shoulder, and said, “You’re just fine. Next!”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“Oh man, that looks painful. If I was into dudes, I’d sure take you into the restroom and help you out with that.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Michael couldn’t have been any more embarrassed if he tried. Make-up girl again. “Have you no couth?”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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.”</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“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.”</span>
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<strong><em>Damnit!</em> The Buy link </strong></div>
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<strong>(again, just in case you missed it the first time :D )</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> <a href="http://www.seventhwindow.com/index.php?main_page=product_music_info&cPath=&products_id=46">http://www.seventhwindow.com/index.php?main_page=product_music_info&cPath=&products_id=46</a></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-29148601614371766462012-04-12T11:57:00.000-04:002012-04-12T11:57:11.559-04:00Book Talk: Her Two Dads by Ariel Tachna<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1130" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Her2Dads.jpg" title="Her2Dads" width="200" /></div><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Ariel. (And sorry if I spelled character names wrong. Hard to know how you spell them in audio)<br />
<br />
Buy it: <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1891">http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1891</a>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-20524930081041866622012-04-02T13:32:00.000-04:002012-04-02T13:32:33.054-04:00Friend Release: Aleix BekinsAs I promised yesterday, here is more information about Alix's new release <em>Written in the Stars.</em> (And the cover again, because I just think it's pretty. I can be shallow that way :D (I think it's his lips...))<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/04/02/friend-release-written-in-the-stars-by-alix-bekins/writtenstarslg-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-1117"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1117" height="400" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/WrittenStarsLG1.jpg" title="WrittenStarsLG" width="266" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Buy links:</strong> Ebook - <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2855">http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?</a><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2855">products_id=2855</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Paperback - <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2856">http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2856</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <strong>Blurb: </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Bailey McMillan’s life is a mess. The general public blames him for his former employer’s nuclear pollution, resulting in professional disgrace. Humiliated, he takes a job as an editor at a science magazine run by his best friend, John. That part isn’t so bad; Bailey is fond of John, who seems to find Bailey’s abrasive nature amusing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Unfortunately, working for John also leads to writing an astrology column in exchange for getting free rein in some op-ed articles—and then being sued over one. The (totally coincidental) accuracy of the column offers opportunity for further professional disgrace if anyone discovers its author—and then Bailey digs himself a little deeper.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> In an attempt to prove astrology is bogus, he agrees to an experiment to date someone from each star sign. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Bailey’s got a stupid crush on John, who stubbornly insists on a detailed breakdown of every date—bad and otherwise. Bailey’s luck has to improve sometime… right?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>And an excerpt. She sent me a nice sized one, and I was only going to use part of it, but it was too much fun not to share it all, so here ya go!!</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><br />
</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Chapter 1 - <em>Heavens Above</em></strong></div> “NO. NO, no, no, and no!”<br />
<br />
“Yes,” John said, not even looking away from his computer screen.<br />
<br />
“You can’t possibly be serious,” Bailey insisted. He slammed his hands down on John’s desk, finally getting the attention of the magazine’s editor in chief.<br />
<br />
“Serious as a funeral,” John said.<br />
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“This will <em>ruin </em>our credibility! Everything we’ve been working for over the last year, ever since we started! You’re going to destroy it all just to pander to the masses? They don’t need any more pandering! I refuse to be a part of it,” Bailey said definitively. “I won’t do it. I’ll quit first.”<br />
<br />
John’s attention had shifted back to his computer, irritating Bailey. He’d probably done it on purpose. “You won’t quit.”<br />
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The sound of sputtering frustration filled the office for several minutes until Bailey managed to get ahold of himself. His boss was many things, all of them annoying, but stupid wasn’t one of them. “Why won’t I?”<br />
<br />
“One, because you’ve seen the numbers and know that we need to make some changes to keep afloat. Two, because appealing to a broader, more mainstream audience is the best way to do that. And three, because I have a bribe for you: I’ll let you write the review column you’ve been bugging me about.”<br />
<br />
“But an article like you’re suggesting is going to dumb down the whole magazine!”<br />
<br />
“<em>Baaaaaileeeeey</em>,” John said, the name sounding about three syllables longer that it actually was, each brimming with John’s world-weary suffering of his senior science editor.<br />
<br />
Bailey closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. “So you’re proposing that I get to write a scathing commentary of my former peers’ latest research developments every month?”<br />
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John nodded.<br />
<br />
“I get to be rude to people, <em>in print</em>, every month—for at least twelve issues?” he clarified.<br />
<br />
John nodded again, a smile starting to creep onto his face, starting in the fine lines around his eyes.<br />
<br />
“And in return, you’re going to make me—over my most vehement objections—write an <em>astrology </em>column?” Bailey managed to load an impressive amount of scorn into the word.<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
Huffing in justified frustration, Bailey thought for a moment again and then jerked his chin in a quick nod. “Fine. I’ll do it. But!” he hurried to add before John’s grin became overly smug, “I want you to guarantee the twelve-month minimum for the review column, and I insist that That Other Thing be completely anonymous. No byline, John, and no one else at <em>Spark </em>knows about it who doesn’t have to. If word got out, it would destroy my remaining credibility.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, you still have some left?” John asked, eyes twinkling with laughter.<br />
<br />
“Bite me.” It was always going to smart, how the idiots at Stellar Energy had cost Bailey his reputation by refusing to listen to his advice. Well, him and the other scientists on the research team, but still.<br />
<br />
John reached into a tray on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here; I knew you’d want it in writing.”<br />
<br />
Bailey took the agreement back to his desk to look over thoroughly. John Forrester might be his good friend, maybe even his best friend, but he wasn’t signing anything without reading the fine print. He and John had known each other too long and given each other far too much shit for him to be quite that trusting.<br />
<br />
The two had met nearly a decade ago, when John had still been enlisted and Bailey was contracting with the military. He’d been working on a still-classified project which would one day revolutionize energy production, and John had been one of a small team of soldiers assigned to keep the scientists somewhat grounded in reality. It had turned out that John was actually quite intelligent, even had an MA in mathematics—something Bailey found difficult to believe of someone who had voluntarily signed up to be shot at—and despite the constant arguing and insults, they became friends.<br />
<br />
They hadn’t stayed in touch once the project had been completed and they were both reassigned. Bailey had finished out his contract and then gone to work for those fools at Stellar Energy. While he was grateful that John had sought him out and offered him a job at <em>Spark</em>, his gratitude only went so far. To Bailey’s eternal mortification, John instinctively knew the right buttons to push, the same way he had all those years ago, to prod Bailey into doing whatever he wanted. Just like with this ridiculous astrology column.<br />
<br />
Bailey reviewed the proposal carefully and tried not to get too upset that John had been able to predict his demands that the editorial be for a year minimum and that the astrology column remain anonymous. He signed his usual assertive scrawl and took the agreement over to Lauren, John’s assistant, detouring to make himself a photocopy first.<br />
<br />
John popped his head out the door. “Buy you a beer after work to wash away the bitter taste of defeat?” he offered.<br />
<br />
“Go to hell. But yes, buy me a beer first.”<br />
<br />
John grinned. “So long as I know I’ve got company for the trip.”<br />
<br />
Bailey shook his head, flapping his hand dismissively as he headed back toward his desk. Damn John for always knowing how to get under Bailey’s skin. Bailey sat down at his desk and shuddered as he started typing in search phrases to learn how to predict horoscopes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">*****</div><br />
<br />
THREE months later, John was back at the bar down the street, buying Bailey yet another in a very long—endless, maybe—string of conciliatory beers.<br />
<br />
“I still can’t believe you are making me do this.”<br />
<br />
John shrugged, bored by the same dialogue they’d had a million times but willing to recite his lines once again if that was what Bailey wanted. “People want to read about sex and romance. It’s not my fault.”<br />
<br />
Bailey sat hunched over in misery, staring hopelessly at his half-empty pint glass. “This has to be punishment for something I did.”<br />
<br />
“Buck up. If you want to write the editorial column, then you have to write this one too. You’re the only one who’s qualified,” John said, resting a consoling hand on Bailey’s shoulder.<br />
<br />
The reaction was explosive; Bailey sat up sharply, turning on John with a vengeance. “You take that back!” he spat. “I am not qualified to write such blatant drivel and quackery. I am so far overqualified, so far beyond qualified—”<br />
<br />
“Whatever; you’re the one who is writing it. It’s your assignment; I’m your boss. Write the goddamned column,” John said, rolling his eyes. Bailey’s melodramatic outbursts, which had lost him most of his potential friends and pretty much all of his dates in the last five years, had never had very much effect on John.<br />
<br />
“I hate you,” Bailey grumbled.<br />
<br />
“And yet somehow I manage not to cry myself to sleep at night.” John smirked as he raised his glass and then drained it. “Only you would have a meltdown because your column—in an obscure new scientific journal—got praised on a morning talk show.”<br />
<br />
“That’s exactly it! My astrology column—the one with <em>no scientific merit whatsoever</em>—has gained national attention, and I can’t even decide if I’m more appalled that people think this bullshit is real, or that people finally approve of my work but it’s <em>this</em>, or that I’m apparently shallow enough to somewhat wish I was actually getting recognition for this drivel. What am I saying—I absolutely do <em>not </em>want my name associated with this crap! John, under no circumstances are you allowed to ever reveal that I write this column. On pain of death,” he said, giving John the most threatening look he could manage, which wasn’t very.<br />
<br />
John laughed. “Do you honestly think anyone would believe me anyway? Bailey McMillan, the double-PhD genius, mastermind behind Stellar Energy, writing <em>Spark’s </em>astrology column?”<br />
<br />
Bailey signaled to the bartender for another round. “I know; you’re right, of course. But seriously, John, promise me—not even in your memoirs.”<br />
<br />
John rolled his eyes but nodded.<br />
<br />
“I just don’t get it. I mean, I tried—I honestly <em>tried</em>—to find some scientific basis for this garbage. Some way to use the latest research of, oh, the last two centuries of space exploration to find patterns in radiation or magnetic shifts, or anything at all that had the tiniest hint of a possibility of correlation between astronomical phenomena and human behavior, and aside from some very minor reports of a higher incidence of homicides during lunar eclipses, there is nothing. <em>Nothing!</em>”<br />
<br />
John dared another pat on the shoulder as Bailey buried his face in his hands on the table. “It’s the fact that it kind of works that really gets your goat, isn’t it?”<br />
<br />
“Yes! It’s driving me insane that so many people are reporting how accurate the random crap I make up is turning out to be!”<br />
<br />
“Only you would be so upset. Most normal people would simply stop worrying about it and enjoy the ride. It must suck being a genius.”<br />
<br />
“<em>Hate </em>you.”<br />
<br />
“Love you too, buddy.” John laughed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">*****</div><br />
<br />
A WEEK later found them back at the same bar. It was getting to be a regular habit for them. Any time Bailey’s—or rather <em>Spark’s</em>—astrology column was mentioned in the news, John added an hour or two at the bar with Bailey to his evening plans. The column was turning out to be shockingly popular, and it was a good thing Bailey had insisted on keeping his agreement a secret from the rest of the staff at <em>Spark</em>, because the media had started questioning anyone they could find when neither John nor Lauren would give up the writer’s name.<br />
<br />
It seemed as if Bailey’s inability to simply make up the column without doing some sort of research—mostly to prove that astrology was totally bogus—had backfired. He was running numbers, correlating everything from the levels of radiation the sun was emitting on a particular day, to meteor showers, to the slight wobble of the earth’s axis and comparing it to behavioral studies, lottery winners, crime statistics, and data from suicide prevention hotlines. He remained absolutely convinced that there wasn’t a shred of evidence to support any sort of relationship between the two… and yet the magazine was being flooded with e-mails from people who claimed Bailey’s predictions were spot-on, including some from well-known astrologers who wanted to know his secret.<br />
<br />
It almost made Bailey want to weep over the sheer stupidity of their readers.<br />
<br />
“It boggles my mind that people would rather believe their lives are influenced by the movements of big chunks of rock and enormous clouds of gas two kiloparsecs away than simply accept that chaos theory makes far more sense.”<br />
<br />
“People don’t want logic, Bailey, they want a sense of order in their lives.” John sighed. This was becoming a very familiar conversation.<br />
<br />
Bailey made a face. “People don’t make sense! There are no numbers that are ‘luckier’ for a Taurus on a particular Wednesday, and there’s no specific cosmological configuration that means Virgos should be careful with money or that Geminis should watch out for tall, dark strangers. And don’t even get me started on the nonsense about ‘love matches’. These idiots might as well be reading sheep entrails for all the ‘science’ involved.”<br />
<br />
“The romance stuff pisses you off the most, doesn’t it?” John asked, grinning. “It’s like a personal insult to your finely tuned sense of the utter randomness of love, which of course is why <em>you </em>haven’t found the right person yet: sheer chance.”<br />
<br />
“It’s a better answer than looking to the stars to find my soulmate,” Bailey answered, tone full of distaste. “Part of it is my fault, sure, but most of it is just <em>life</em>—not ever meeting the right person at the right time under the right conditions. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with where Venus is in my chart.”<br />
<br />
John shook his head and finished his beer. “So prove it.”<br />
<br />
Bailey looked at John like he was nuts, which clearly John was, and this was simply more evidence. “Prove what, how?”<br />
<br />
“Prove that the romance crap is wrong. Wow me,” John challenged him, grinning.<br />
<br />
“Of all the idiotic, pointless, futile theories to waste my time on…. You might as well ask me to disprove the existence of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.”<br />
<br />
“Praise His Noodly Appendage,” John said, raising his glass in a toast.<br />
<br />
“Oh for….” Bailey sighed but raised his glass to clink against John’s. “Seriously. The only way to ‘prove’ that something doesn’t work is to try it and see what happens. But anything involving human behavior is so subjective that trying to apply the scientific method is just asking for skewed results.” He glanced across the room at a particularly attractive young woman seated at the bar. “I could go over to that woman and be charming and wonderful, ask her out, and then attribute her rejection to the month she happened to be born in not meshing well with the month I happened to be born in. Or I could give the same attribution to something slightly more logical, like the fact that she’s got a tan line on her hand where a ring used to be and she might not be ready to date again yet. Or maybe she had a crappy day, or maybe her goldfish died, or maybe she hates men with blue eyes!”<br />
<br />
“So try just the basics, like a general compatibility test,” John suggested. “See which signs you’re supposed to get along with the best and then date them and see if it’s true.”<br />
<br />
Bailey gave him a look. “Oh please. What, you think that if I go out on a few dates and somehow magically end up getting along best with the one I’m ‘supposed to’,” he said, complete with air quotes, “then that will prove anything?”<br />
<br />
“Maybe not, but you’ll have a handful of dates out of it, at the very least.” John smirked.<br />
<br />
“I weep for your college professors if that’s what you consider logic.”<br />
<br />
John kicked him under the table. “What do you have to lose? You go out on twelve dates, and you get to have a tiny bit of proof—”<br />
<br />
“Flawed, subjective proof,” Bailey interrupted.<br />
<br />
“—that astrological love matches are bogus,” John continued, ignoring Bailey. “Maybe you’ll even get laid,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be a suggestive way but instead looked like he had a facial tic.<br />
<br />
“In order for an ‘experiment’ like that to work, I’d need to date at least one person of each sign. And I couldn’t know who was who or I’d bring my own biases into it—which is going to be difficult enough to ignore, given that there is no way in hell this can work, because, and let me say this very clearly since you seem to be missing my point, <em>astrology is completely bogus</em>.”<br />
<br />
John ignored him, as usual. “So you go out with one person of each sign within a close enough time period that you can realistically make comparisons. It’s like you’ll suddenly be popular,” John teased. “Twelve dates in a few months; I bet that’s more action than you’ve had in years.”<br />
<br />
Bailey made a face at him. “Why are we friends?” he asked, trying to sound genuinely curious. “I’m pretty sure I loathe you.”<br />
<br />
It wasn’t as if he needed John to rub it in that Bailey didn’t date much—or at all—and that the idea of finding even two dates in one month made his palms sweat. Not everyone could have the looks John had: tallish, fit, runner’s body, tanned skin, hazel eyes. His hair was a perpetual disaster of cowlicks that tended to make him look sort of goofy, but even though he was nearing his midforties, John had a grace and self-confidence that drew women to him like bees to honey. He’d always been able to charm his way into any pants he’d wanted.<br />
<br />
Bailey never even tried to compete. Sure, he was a genius and he had money, but he simply wasn’t good with people and had given up in his late teens, when he’d realized that being super-intelligent didn’t seem to make people want to sleep with him. He had huge blue eyes, which were his best feature by far, a stocky body that tended to look more pudgy than strong, and hair that had sadly started thinning in his midthirties. He liked sex—loved sex—but rarely found dealing with other people’s emotions worth the effort involved.<br />
<br />
“What have you got to lose?” John asked, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe you’ll even find Miss—or Mister—Right.”<br />
<br />
Bailey shook his head, knowing he’d already given in the moment he’d begun thinking about all the variables involved. “I’ll bet you a steak dinner that at the end of this pseudo-scientific farce, I’m still sitting here in this bar with you.”<br />
<br />
John grinned. “You’re on.”Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-3486400266476600842012-04-01T13:33:00.000-04:002012-04-01T13:33:15.076-04:00Sunday Entertainment April 1, 2012<strong>For your Reading Enjoyment </strong>(free and otherwise):<br />
<br />
<strong>Lords of Aether: </strong> We've been going strong on this, though I have been remiss in letting folks know because I've been otherwise occupied for a while. The latest post is up and it has Nash flying off in his air ship into the wild blue yonder with his current squeeze, Jack, Jack's old flame, Anthony, and Anthony's crush and local courtesan, Shelly. If that isn't a going to be a mash up of steamy sexual tension and angst, I don't know what is. Enjoy :D<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lordsofaether.com/the-story/">http://lordsofaether.com/the-story/</a><br />
<br />
<strong>New Releases:</strong><br />
<br />
From me and Sarah Masters, I give you <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strPageHistory=home&numSearchStartRecord=0&P_ID=1590&CAT_ID=0&numRecordPosition=1" target="_blank">Tools of Justice</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1109" rel="attachment wp-att-1109" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1109" height="320" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/toolsofjustice_800-187x300.jpg" title="toolsofjustice_800" width="198" /></a><br />
<div><div><br />
<strong><em>One cop. One killer. Both dreamwalkers. Not every dream should see the light of day...</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Three very different people have one thing in common-a dreamscape steeped in horror. Barry has had dreams of violent death all his life, and as a cop, he now works to solve the crimes his dreams tell him about in hopes he can save at least one victim from suffering the fate he faces every time he lays his head on his pillow. His ex-lover, Tag—now his boss—has no idea how to help him cope other than to protect his job...and try to protect their hearts from the dreams that could end up killing them both.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Layton welcomes the dream state that shows him his next victim. He's been a killer for as long as he can remember, and the land where he walks in shadow beside the horn-headed man who guides him feels more like home than the waking world. Now, in addition to seeking out those who would kill the innocent and ending their lives in his own special reign of terror, Layton is promised a bride—someone to love him forever. It seems everything he's ever dreamed is about to come true.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Jessica just wants to get her life back after her boyfriend is murdered and she is abducted. Twice. Finding herself at Leyton's mercy is a nightmare she soon finds is only the very beginning. When the horn-headed man visits her, she knows nothing will ever be the same again.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>The four of them now have to find a way to navigate the real world while the dream state dictates their very lives and threatens everything they hold dear. If they manage catch a few killers and save a few innocent lives along the way, that will have to be their compensation for the "gifts" given by The Dreaming.</strong><br />
<div><a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strPageHistory=home&numSearchStartRecord=0&P_ID=1590&CAT_ID=0&numRecordPosition=1">http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strPageHistory=home&numSearchStartRecord=0&P_ID=1590&CAT_ID=0&numRecordPosition=1</a></div></div><div></div><em>And coming soon from my friend, Alix Bekins, Written in the Stars</em><br />
<div style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1110" rel="attachment wp-att-1110" style="clear: left; color: #ff4b33; float: left; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-1110" height="320" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/WrittenStarsLG-200x300.jpg" title="WrittenStarsLG" width="212" /></a></div><div>Bailey McMillan’s life is a mess. The general public blames him for his former employer’s nuclear pollution, resulting in professional disgrace. Humiliated, he takes a job as an editor at a science magazine run by his best friend, John. That part isn’t so bad; Bailey is fond of John, who seems to find Bailey’s abrasive nature amusing.</div>Unfortunately, working for John also leads to writing an astrology column in exchange for getting free rein in some op-ed articles—and then being sued over one. The (totally coincidental) accuracy of the column offers opportunity for further professional disgrace if anyone discovers its author—and then Bailey digs himself a little deeper.<br />
<br />
</div><div><br />
In an attempt to prove astrology is bogus, he agrees to an experiment to date someone from each star sign. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Bailey’s got a stupid crush on John, who stubbornly insists on a detailed breakdown of every date—bad and otherwise. Bailey’s luck has to improve sometime… right?<br />
<br />
I'll be back tomorrow with buy links and an excerpt, because this looks like it's going to be lots of fun :D<br />
<br />
<strong>Movies:</strong><br />
<br />
<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1113" rel="attachment wp-att-1113" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="size-medium wp-image-1113 alignright" height="200" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Cowboys-and-Angels-202x300.jpg" title="Cowboys and Angels" width="134" /></a><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/?attachment_id=1112" rel="attachment wp-att-1112" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1112" height="200" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Different-for-Girls1.jpg" title="Different for Girls" width="134" /></a>I watched <em>Different for Girls</em> over the past week, and I have to say, aside form the poor sound quality of the copy I had, I really, really enjoyed it. I'll talk more about it another day, but <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116102/" target="_blank">here's the info</a> on it, if you're interested in something with a little bit of a difference.<br />
<br />
I also watched <em><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0377701/" target="_blank">Cowboys and Angels,</a> </em>which was also interesting and enjoyable, about a couple of college kids getting into and out of trouble. There some nice broken stereotypes, and I liked that about this film. The acting was decent and the film was, overall, pretty fun, if not life changing.<br />
<div></div></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-89261279951936845002012-03-27T11:59:00.001-04:002012-03-27T12:01:05.281-04:00Tools of Justice --- Total-E-Bound Erotic Romance Ebooks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qo8Zh0rvFde864Rn0dvfT3xoorKqMPGiqT6q20rb5SGu2QT_42Mld7e-9aRnxi-q8AvQ9heyVlP13N8eiMzUJj87_cHGgt0GmPLe_KCjYnN91se9Cap1O0h5MO2D54g-43Pk-BClXbQ/s1600/toolsofjustice_800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qo8Zh0rvFde864Rn0dvfT3xoorKqMPGiqT6q20rb5SGu2QT_42Mld7e-9aRnxi-q8AvQ9heyVlP13N8eiMzUJj87_cHGgt0GmPLe_KCjYnN91se9Cap1O0h5MO2D54g-43Pk-BClXbQ/s320/toolsofjustice_800.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=1590#.T3Hhd_E3U94.blogger">Tools of Justice --- Total-E-Bound Erotic Romance Ebooks</a><br />
<br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><b>One cop. One killer. Both dreamwalkers. Not every dream should see the light of day...</b></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><b><br />
</b></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;">Let's talk about comfort zones. Mine is set far back from anything that looks like it might be a horror film or book. I've never read Steven King, nor do I ever intend to. (Well, except for his book on writing, but that's almost a prerequisite for anyone who thinks they're going to try and get published, and it's not really that scary.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;">So what ever possessed me to write in this genre? Well, that answer is simple. Srah Masters. She said let's...and I said....Okay. Is the story warped? Maybe a bit, but she's known for that. Is it angsty? Hell yes, but that's my shtick. The beauty is in how well the two styles mesh. Even our editor had to ask who wrote what and that's a huge compliment to how well we worked together on this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;">So while book two is in the offing, have yourse;f a read of this first book in The Dreaming universe and the good news, you probably won't need tissues this time around. </span><br />
<hr size="3" /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: x-small;"><b>Blurb:</b></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Three very different people have one thing in common-a dreamscape steeped in horror. Barry has had dreams of violent death all his life, and as a cop, he now works to solve the crimes his dreams tell him about in hopes he can save at least one victim from suffering the fate he faces every time he lays his head on his pillow. His ex-lover, Tag—now his boss—has no idea how to help him cope other than to protect his job...and try to protect their hearts from the dreams that could end up killing them both.</span></div><div style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Layton welcomes the dream state that shows him his next victim. He's been a killer for as long as he can remember, and the land where he walks in shadow beside the horn-headed man who guides him feels more like home than the waking world. Now, in addition to seeking out those who would kill the innocent and ending their lives in his own special reign of terror, Layton is promised a bride—someone to love him forever. It seems everything he's ever dreamed is about to come true.</span></div><div style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Jessica just wants to get her life back after her boyfriend is murdered and she is abducted. Twice. Finding herself at Leyton's mercy is a nightmare she soon finds is only the very beginning. When the horn-headed man visits her, she knows nothing will ever be the same again.</span></div><div style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">The four of them now have to find a way to navigate the real world while the dream state dictates their very lives and threatens everything they hold dear. If they manage catch a few killers and save a few innocent lives along the way, that will have to be their compensation for the "gifts" given by The Dreaming.</span></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-49067042913749034632012-03-05T09:57:00.000-05:002012-03-05T09:57:51.727-05:00Sunday Entertainment March 4, 2012 (ish)<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><br />
On Monday. I know. I was editing all weekend, so hopefully, that's some consolation. It means Tools of Justice, co-written by me with Sarah Masters is one step closer t it's release in May WOOT!!!<br />
<br />
So, the News:<br />
<br />
<strong>From the Web:</strong><br />
<br />
<strong></strong>I haven't spoken up much about the PayPal fiasco. Not because I'm not following or don't have an opinion, but more because I don't know all the facts and I don't wish to spread mis-information. Suffice to say, I think the whole issue is a frightening and dangerous one and we should not let it slide lest we get buried in the resultant debris of lost freedoms. On that note, <a href="http://blogspot.loveyoudivineinfo.com/2012/02/its-obscene-paypal-erotica-and-censorship/" target="_blank">read this blog</a> by one of my publishers, Loveyoudivine, and think about it. Learn the ins and outs of what's going on, and take a stand. It's important.<br />
<br />
<strong>From My Publishers:</strong><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/03/05/sunday-entertainment-february-4-2012/tebnewsletter-banner_800/" rel="attachment wp-att-1100"><img alt="" class="aligncenter wp-image-1100" height="140" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/TEBnewsletter-banner_800-300x69.jpg" title="TEBnewsletter-banner_800" width="600" /></a><a href="http://news.total-e-bound.com/newsletter.asp?article=624" target="_blank">Total E-Bound's Weekly Newsletter</a></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Read up on their new releases and free stories: Hot Shots, written by some of your favorite TEB authors.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>And What About me?</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><br />
</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like I said, been neck deep in edits for Tools of Justice, but that is done and off to Sarah to work on. Next up, I will be working on Lace, another TEB offering being fixed before they make their final decision. I'll keep you posted.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I also spent a good deal of last week reading <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2471" target="_blank">Bear Otter </a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/BearOttertheKid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignright size-full wp-image-1101" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/BearOttertheKid.jpg" title="BearOtter&theKid" width="200" /></a><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2471" target="_blank">and the Kid.</a> Wow. Monster book. I remember why I had been putting it off. It's looong!! But to me, the character development required that length. I loved the ocean/drowning theme Mr. Klune used throughout the story. The way he built it up to the point where the main character, Bear was feeling helplessly washed out to sea and lost was extremely effective.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'll admit, the book had me in tears by that point. I also need to point out by the time I got to there, it was well past midnight and I was...overtired....yes. That's just it. <em>Overtired</em>. ;~)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I know I say quite often not many books can actually make me cry, and then every other book I talk about, I end up saying it mademe cry. Keep in mind, I don't talk about the books that didn't really touch me in some way. I read a lot of books. I don't talk about them all. I talk about the ones that matter to me, and this one matters. Why?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Because it's an excellently written book. It explores the very potent world of the family you chose over the family you were born into. It explores responsibility, trust, honesty and forgiveness. And on another level, it will outlive controversy and it has proven to me that all those things that are central themes in the book are alive and well in the real world that published it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I can only recommend this as a fine book about rising above everything and holding onto the things that matter with both hands and all your heart.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-75054972518015971542012-02-25T23:33:00.003-05:002012-02-26T09:45:48.646-05:00Sunday Entertainment: February 26, 2012<strong>Stuff from the Web:</strong><br />
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Jamie Fessenden found these blogs and shared them on one of the loops we mutually belong to. I thought they were fun blogs about stuff all writers sould think about now and then, so if you're a writer, and you've got a few minutes, have a gander.<br />
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<a href="http://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2012/02/you-are-what-you-love-a-numeri.html" target="_blank">http://www.antipope.org/<wbr></wbr>charlie/blog-static/2012/02/<wbr></wbr>you-are-what-you-love-a-<wbr></wbr>numeri.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2012/02/between-the-perfect-and-the-re.html" target="_blank">http://www.antipope.org/<wbr></wbr>charlie/blog-static/2012/02/<wbr></wbr>between-the-perfect-and-the-<wbr></wbr>re.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2012/02/operating-narrative-machinery-.html" target="_blank">http://www.antipope.org/<wbr></wbr>charlie/blog-static/2012/02/<wbr></wbr>operating-narrative-machinery-<wbr></wbr>.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2012/02/not-enough-credit-not-enough-t.html" target="_blank">http://www.antipope.org/<wbr></wbr>charlie/blog-static/2012/02/<wbr></wbr>not-enough-credit-not-enough-<wbr></wbr>t.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/02/25/sunday-entertainment-february-26-2012/gayromlit-cowboy/" rel="attachment wp-att-1095" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-1095" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/GayRomLit-cowboy-200x300.jpg" title="GayRomLit cowboy" width="200" /></a>GayRomLit: The schedule of events is up and ready. Looks like a full roster of publishers: Loose _d, Total e-Bound, Dreamspinner, Samhain, MLR, Torquere, Resplendance, and Silver Publishing are all sponsoring events, along with all teh author readings and other activities. I'f it's anything like last year, there will be no time for getting board!<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><strong>Appearances</strong></span><strong>:</strong><br />
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I'll be poking my head in at <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/EthanDay/?yguid=339205342" target="_blank">Ethan Day's Yahoo group</a> today for Gay Day to talk about my latest release: Better, and just generally hang out and chat. I'm sure, as always, there will be tons of other readers adn writers there to play. It's always great fun and all those books down there will be available to win just for stopping by. So dooo it!<br />
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<img alt="Febbanner3" src="http://addictiontofiction.ethanday.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Febbanner3_thumb.jpg" /><br />
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<strong>Lords of Aether:<img alt="" src="http://lordsofaether.com/wp-content/themes/aesthete/img/headers/LordsofAether2.jpg" /></strong><br />
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Of course. This week, <a href="http://lordsofaether.com/2012/02/continued-the-true-and-scandalous-history-of-the-lords-of-aether-being-the-reminiscences-and-researches-of-julius-savage-beare/" target="_blank">Beare has made another log post</a> of his and the club's history. Drop by and have a read. this character has more disdain for his Lords than you can shake a tail at, but he'll protect them just the same. Plus, he's entertaining when he goes on about the Lordlings of his self-imposed charge.Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-37878715621896972372012-02-12T18:56:00.003-05:002012-02-12T21:46:19.564-05:00Sunday Entertainment February 12, 2012<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><br />
<strong>Fun Stuff First:</strong><br />
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A video. I know it's old, but so what. I like it and I suspect a fair number of people who might wander past a blog by a m/m romance writer might as well, and besides. It's Lady Gaga. What's not to like, right?<br />
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The Edge of Romance: The Gay version. (Sorry about the link. One day, I swear I will change my Wordpress Theme to one that will allow me to embed video. Just not today.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=be9w4QpQ4Xw&feature=player_embedded#!">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=be9w4QpQ4Xw&feature=player_embedded#!</a><br />
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<strong>Where Am I At?</strong><br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/02/12/sunday-entertainment-february-12-2012/hearthands/" rel="attachment wp-att-1072" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1072" height="205" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/HEARTHANDS.jpg" title="HEARTHANDS" width="246" /></a>First, at <a href="http://sjdpeterson.blogspot.com/2012/02/romance-z-jaime-samms.html" target="_blank">SJD Peterson's blog</a> talking about valentines Day celebrations and my latest release, Better.<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/LordsofAether2-300x51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-1073" height="51" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/LordsofAether2-300x51.jpg" style="border-color: initial; border-style: initial;" title="LordsofAether2" width="300" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">Also, I posted at <a href="http://lordsofaether.com/2012/02/incorrigible/" target="_blank">Lords of Aether this week</a>. Alexi finally unveils his surprise for Leo, and Leo struggles with his feelings. Some more. The poor boy is so repressed.</div><br />
<strong>The Rest:</strong><br />
<div>So, on a day that's been rather melancholy for a lot of reasons, but also full of celebration for others, I leave you with <a href="http://csilibrarian.wordpress.com/2012/02/12/review-better-by-jaime-samms/" target="_blank">this review for Better</a>, in which April says: <em>"Samms did a great job avoiding easy solutions or turning either of her leading men into stereotypes...And do not even get me started on how much I want to have the babies of Chapters 20 and 21." </em>(Yes, I did take a quick peek to see if those were the last two chapters in the book, and they are, and yay! I'm thrilled they worked.)</div></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-3589829237340327332012-02-11T10:13:00.001-05:002012-02-11T10:13:56.386-05:00Book Talk: Luck in the Shadows by Lynn Flewelling <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left' style='clear:both;'><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/20120208-074431.jpg"><img src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/20120208-074431.jpg" alt="20120208-074431.jpg" class="alignnone size-full" /></a><br><br>I know, I know. This book has been out for what? A decade? And me a fantasy reader from way back in the beyond, so whats taken me so long to read this series? But I am reading it, at last, and I'm enjoying it. <br><br>It isn't epic fantasy in the tradition of Tolkien. More like...Robin Hood, maybe? Seregil, one of the main characters, is your basic swashbuckler/master of disguise. I know. Those two should be mutually exclusive, but somehow, in this book, anyway, they are not. I'm around a quarter of the way into the book and am finding this character delicately balanced on the knife edge of selfish indifference and paternally overprotective as of his young and clueless apprentice, Alec, whom iveheard is supposed to be his love interest eventually. But I've also been told to be patient on that. <br><br>We all know that's one of my strongest traits...so not!<br><br>And Alec. What is there to say about Alec? He's just stepped over the threshold of manhood. Barely. Seventeen, I think he told Seregil was his age, and newly orphaned (can he be an orphan if he's practically a man?) so he's a man-child of exceedingly naive proportions, and they, he follows Seregil around with nary a twinge of doubt or contemplation over the 'bard's' many disguises, his skill with weapons or ability to bust them both out of a torture dungeon and be away before dawn. And at the same time, the kid can shoot a bow, skin a rabbit, ride a horse, sing, track, guide and do any number of things with confidence and skill. Do I sound tongue in cheek? I might be, a little bit.<br><br>I don't dislike these characters. Don't think that. I like them both as long as I remember to embrace their epic, bigger-than-life qualities. It's been a long time since I read a fantasy novel, i tend to forget, at times, I'm not reading one of my many contemporary paranormal or real world gay love stories. The characters are meant to be competent, intelligent people with the ability to learn and develop necessary skills for survival. They don't have to be tragically flawed just because that's what seems to have become the norm in the books I often read lately. They are allowed to be completely capable men who don't balk when asked to step outside their comfort zone.<br><br>Still. The author in me who loves to torture her own characters would like to see one of them stumble and fall on his face. Just once. Promise I won't laugh....much.....<br><br>But don't let my assessment steer you away. Remember, this is just my opinion of a book I'm still reading, and despite my remarks about the characters seeming perfection, I do like both men and I'm enjoying the read quite a bit.</p>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-3724205256794727542012-01-27T15:51:00.000-05:002012-01-27T15:51:25.463-05:00New Release: Better<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-collapse: separate; font-family: Tahoma; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">The past never goes away. Getting better is about learning to live with the truth.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px;"><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Buy Link: <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2739&osCsid=to1sc0u2342r40ga7qpjhjlvs6">http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2739&osCsid=to1sc0u2342r40ga7qpjhjlvs6</a></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="file:///G:/DOCUME~1/Writer/LOCALS~1/Temp/enhtmlclip/Better.jpg" style="cursor: default;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFefwSkS6Vc7qXo58yXNLo28VEN-uJQdoWH7VdpWRUZ6pGPrkNaebUy_XGrgEqtxnC4D5pV1hxvG_HIoE2GD3JIbTdx8shFMSn7U_OJOVbYXZjBUJTSLtE3ZA2l2Qhgkf6wl83WJek_0/s1600/Better_pr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFefwSkS6Vc7qXo58yXNLo28VEN-uJQdoWH7VdpWRUZ6pGPrkNaebUy_XGrgEqtxnC4D5pV1hxvG_HIoE2GD3JIbTdx8shFMSn7U_OJOVbYXZjBUJTSLtE3ZA2l2Qhgkf6wl83WJek_0/s1600/Better_pr.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: -webkit-auto;">After filing charges that put his abusive ex-Dom behind bars, Jesse Turbul relocates </span> across the country, hoping to escape his past—but, of course, it's never that easy. When Jesse meets third-year law student Aadon at the library where he works, their mutual attraction is instant and obvious.</span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-collapse: separate; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Despite the sparks, they just can't seem to make it work. Aadon is mired in guilt over his inability to help his older brother, damaged by events far too similar to to Jesse's past. Jesse is stuck in his own desperate wish to forget the painful shadow that continues to threaten him and any hope of a happy future. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-collapse: separate; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The only way to move forward is for </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Jesse to </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">acknowledge</span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> he's </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">broken </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">and for </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Aadon to accept he can't make him better. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Excerpt: </span></span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">Jesse watched his date for a while, waiting for the blond head to lift. </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">Only when Mike came to the table a few minutes later did Aadon look up. He </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">glanced at Jesse, turned to Mike and placed his order, waited until Jesse had </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">ordered and Mike had left before quietly excusing himself from the table.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;">Jesse waited a long time, much longer than it would take for Aadon to use the </span><span style="color: #010101;">facilities, before following him.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The heavy restroom door swung open on silent hinges, and the peculiar </span><span style="color: #010101;">smell of a bathroom trying too hard not to smell like a bathroom engulfed </span><span style="color: #010101;">him. Jesse drew in a silent breath and stepped inside.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Aadon leaned on the counter by the sinks, his back to the mirror.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“I’m sorry.” Jesse tried to make the apology light, tried to see into </span><span style="color: #010101;">Aadon’s shrouded eyes.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Finally, Aadon looked at him. “Why?”</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“I got a little defensive.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch </span><span style="color: #010101;">apart, sheepish smile on his face. </span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Aadon stifled a groan. How could he be so fiery one minute, and this…</span><span style="color: #010101;">adorable the next and not know how crazy it made him? He pushed himself </span><span style="color: #010101;">off the sink and closed his hand around Jesse’s fingers, closing the space and </span><span style="color: #010101;">kissing the fingertips. “Maybe that’s the point. As long as you feel you have </span><span style="color: #010101;">to defend yourself around me, I have to be careful.” He closed his eyes, kept </span><span style="color: #010101;">his lips pressed to his warm fingers.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">God this was hard. He wasn’t doing Jesse any good, wanting him this </span><span style="color: #010101;">bad, knowing he couldn’t—shouldn’t—and knowing he wouldn’t be able to </span><span style="color: #010101;">resist much longer. He shouldn’t still even be with him. It was too much. He</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">just wasn’t what Jesse needed.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;">Jesse felt the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach even before </span><span style="color: #010101;">Aadon spoke again and yanked his hand free, mouth open, ready to fill the </span><span style="color: #010101;">void before Aadon could speak. Before he could say what Jesse knew he was</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">about to say. He was too slow.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Aadon took his face in both hands, tilting it up and looking into his </span><span style="color: #010101;">eyes. “As long as I have to be that careful, this can’t work.”</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“But—”</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“Because I don’t want to be careful, Jesse,” Aadon went on, overriding </span><span style="color: #010101;">his faint protest, passing a thumb over Jesse’s lips and backing him up against </span><span style="color: #010101;">a stall.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“Then don’t.” The words warbled out past Jesse’s pulse fluttering in his </span><span style="color: #010101;">throat. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be careful.” Aadon’s toned body pressed </span><span style="color: #010101;">his against the cold metal. The rush of fear and excitement mingled, and he </span><span style="color: #010101;">knew he’d lost the ability to tell which was which. He didn’t know if he cared.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: Garamond;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">“If I’m not, I could do more damage than Anthony ever did.” Aadon’s </span><span style="color: #010101;">palm caressed his cheek, his fingers slid into Jesse’s hair, and he kissed; a </span><span style="color: #010101;">light strike of his lips and tongue, there and gone too quickly to capture, but</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">expertly bringing him back down to where he could almost breathe normally.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The rush faded, and Jesse wanted it back.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">He gripped the front of Aadon’s shirt, preventing him from moving </span><span style="color: #010101;">away. “You’re not anything like Anthony, and I’m not who I was then.” He </span><span style="color: #010101;">never would have demanded Anthony answer his desire like this. Kissing </span><span style="color: #010101;">Aadon firmly, not hard or angry, just without compromise, Jesse closed his </span><span style="color: #010101;">eyes, willed the other man to understand. He needed this so desperately. </span><span style="color: #010101;">Needed to know he was wanted, desired. Needed to know Aadon could look</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">on him as a man and not a shattered thing.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">A soft groan welled in Aadon’s throat and spilled out into Jesse’s kiss. </span><span style="color: #010101;">It was so good. So sweet, and held so much conviction. It was, finally, too </span><span style="color: #010101;">much to resist. He answered it, tongue stroke for tongue stroke, slowly</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">wresting control of the kiss from Jesse as he pinned him between his hard </span><span style="color: #010101;">body and the cold metal of the bathroom stall. His big hands cupped Jesse’s </span><span style="color: #010101;">head, his body an immovable weight against him, soaking in Jesse’s heat and </span><span style="color: #010101;">desire, keeping him still and contained.</span></div><div align="left" style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #010101;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Jesse couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his fingers tightened to fists </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">in Aadon’s shirt. This was exactly the kind of mindless surrender he’d always </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 16px;">craved. Exactly what Anthony had never on</span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 15px;">ce given him. Because Anthony</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">had never asked for it the way Aadon was doing with his firm, gentle touches </span></span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 15px;">and his warm hands, possessive, but not hard or hurtful. Jesse let go of that </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 15px;">last bit of control and felt his head impact the stall wall with a soft thud. His </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 15px;">hands relaxed, his body heated and melted to conform with Aadon’s, and he </span><span style="color: #010101; font-size: 15px;">opened that last little bit to feel Aadon’s tongue sweep in and possess him.</span></div><div><br />
</div></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-42238784807937733222012-01-26T12:54:00.000-05:002012-01-26T12:54:23.321-05:00Releases: New and Otherwise<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/01/26/releases-free-and-otherwise/cop-birthday-bash-banner/" rel="attachment wp-att-998" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-998" height="120" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/CoP-birthday-bash-banner-300x120.jpg" title="CoP birthday bash banner" width="300" /></a>So, today is a big day. A few months back, I offered to write a free story for one of my favorite blogs, to help them celebrate their birthday. Over at <a href="http://cupoporn.net/" target="_blank">Coffee and Porn in the Morning</a>, Marie and Heidi share some very tasty morsels with their blog followers every day, and being one of the happy recipients of their diligent adherence to their quest to share the sexy, I thought it only appropriate to help them celebrate this birthday.<br />
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Today is the day my story, just one among the offerings of a host of other authors (including one of my very favorite big-time authors, <span style="line-height: 24px;">Lynn Flewelling, who wrote the Nightrunner series)</span><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span>, goes live, at 2:30 Easterm.<br />
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<strong><em>Not a Whore</em>, by Jaime Samms: </strong>Purple tinsel and roses and a kiss under the New Years ball might be romantic, but are they enough for Ansell to give up his independence to please his lover?<br />
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Check out <a href="http://cupoporn.net/cop-1-year-birthday-bash/" target="_blank">the index of stories </a>available from, OMG, a host of amazing authors giving it up for free!!!<br />
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ANd on the <em><strong>Otherwise </strong></em>note, my latest novel (and wow, it's been so long since I got to celebrate a new release, I almost forget the drill!!!) Better comes out at Dreamspinner Press tomorrow!!!<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2012/01/26/releases-free-and-otherwise/better_pr-3/" rel="attachment wp-att-999" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-999" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Better_pr-198x300.jpg" title="Better_pr" width="198" /></a><br />
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<strong>The Blurb: </strong>After filing charges that put his abusive ex-Dom behind bars, Jesse Turbul relocates across the country, hoping to escape his past—but, of course, it's never that easy. When Jesse meets third-year law student Aadon at the library where he works, their mutual attraction is instant and obvious.<br />
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Despite the sparks, they just can't seem to make it work. Aadon is mired in guilt over his inability to help his older brother, damaged by events far too similar to to Jesse's past. Jesse is stuck in his own desperate wish to forget the painful shadow that continues to threaten him and any hope of a happy future.<br />
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The only way to move forward is for Jesse to acknowledge he's broken and for Aadon to accept he can't make him better.Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-25532584992845492132012-01-07T00:27:00.003-05:002012-01-07T00:28:11.094-05:00movie talk: Sherlock Holmes A Game of Shadows<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><br />
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<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-985" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/sherlock-game-of-shadows_-202x300.jpg" title="sherlock game of shadows_" width="202" /></div><br />
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If you ask me, the loveliest thing about this movie is that no one pretends they don't know fans will be slashing these two all over the place. And yet, to the average viewer, it's just another bromance. Well, if by bromance, you mean the the kind where everything blows up, everyone gets shot at least once, and there are giant fish hooks and man on man waltzing. If you mean that kind of bromance.<br />
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So did I like it? well of course! Witty, fun, fascinating, especially listening to hubs beside me analyzing all the genius manipulating I was too busy watching the for Meaningful Gazes to notice. Oh! And the visual of where steampuk started. Yeah. That was pretty cool, too. And totally didn't hate the actual female love interests, either. Always love a good female role where the girl kicks ass and shoots a few baddies to boot. Even the genteel wife shot off a few zingers. No shrinking violet, she.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/sherlock-toast-300x189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="size-medium wp-image-986 alignright" height="189" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/sherlock-toast-300x189.jpg" title="sherlock toast" width="300" /></a></div>Hats off to another great, entertaining movie. I may not be terribly hard to please in this department, but hey, I wasn't in that theater alone, and hubs didn't complain. Must have been enough explosions to go around :DJaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-47543217599110852232012-01-01T13:58:00.001-05:002012-01-01T13:58:27.029-05:00Sunday Entertainment Jan 01, 2012 <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left' style='clear:both;'></p><p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left' style='clear:both;'>Well, despite the fact it is a brand new year...doesn't get much newer than this, really, I do have a few things to talk about today.<br><br><strong>INTERESTING THINGS I CAME ACROSS ON THE WEB</strong><br><br>On Kristen Lamb's blog, and article on why tradiotional advertising won't sell your book. It made a lot of sense to me, and it might to you, too. <a href="http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2011/12/28/why-traditional-marketing-doesnt-sell-books/" target="_blank">Go read the post here.</a><br><br>NEWS FROM FRIENDS<br><br>Most of you have probably heard about Love Romances Cafe's yearly Best of Awards. I have a few highlights for you here:<br><br><em> <strong>2011 LRC's "Best of" Awards Nominee List</strong></em><br><br><br><strong>Best Paranormal/Fantasy Book</strong><br><br>Andrea Speed-Pretty Monsters<br><br>Haven't read it yet, but I've heard really, really good things...<br><br><strong>> Best Book of 2011</strong><br> TJ Klune-Bear, Otter and the Kid<br>Rick R. Reed-Caregiver<br>Two more books in my TBR pile that I've heard are fantastic....<br><br><br><strong>Best GBLT Book</strong><br>Damon Suede-Hot Head<br><br>No secret who I'd vote for in this category ;) Hot Head remains my favorite book of the year.<br><br><strong>Best Contemporary Book</strong><br> Damon Suede-Hot Head<br>Johnny Miles-Learning to Samba<br>ZA Maxfield-The Book of Daniel<br>The first two I've read, and that's a tough call for me. I loved them both...and I've yet to read The Book of Daniel, but again, I hear wonderful things and I have yet to meet a Z.A. Maxfield book I didn't like...<br><br><strong>Best Historical Romance Book<br> Best BDSM Book<br>Best Mystery/Romantic Suspense/Thriller Book</strong><br><br>I haven't read any of the books in these categories, so I really don't have an opinion, but good luck to all the nominees!<br><br><strong>Best Author of 2011</strong><br><br>Damon Suede<br>Andrew Grey<br>Ethan Day<br>Johnny Miles<br>Tara Lain<br><br>Just a few nominees I'll be rooting for. Besides being terrific authors, they are all wonderful people I've had the distinct pleasure of meeting face to face....<br><br><strong>> Best GBLT Author 2011</strong><br>Andrew Grey<br>SJD Peterson<br>Margie Church<br>Xavier Axelson<br>Amber Kell<br>Jambrea Jo Jones<br>Kim Dare<br>Serena Yates<br>Carol Lynne<br>Bailey Bradford<br>TJ Klune<br>Mary Calmes<br>Sue Brown<br>Lynn Hagen<br>Stormy Glenn<br>Joyee Flynn<br>Chris Quinton<br>Brannon Black<br>Johnny Miles<br>ZA Maxfield<br><br>Well...that's the whole list of nominees, and yeah. Good luck choosing just one....<br> <br><strong>Best Cover of 2011</strong><br> Damon Suede-Hot Head always one of my favs, and odd, since I don't usually go for naked torso....<br><br><strong>Best Cover Artist</strong><br>Reese Dante...does beautiful work<br>Dawné Dominique...not afraid to capture the kink<br>Valerie Tibbs....wonderful to work with<br> Anne Cain....what can I say? Love her work, loved working with her, brief ass it was. She did a wonderful job! (I'll show y'all in a sec)<br>Jet Mykles....talk about multi talent!<br><br><strong>Best e-Publisher 2011</strong><br>Dreamspinner Press...professional and awesome<br> Riptide Publishing...new and exciting<br> Samhain Publishing...tried and true<br>Loose Id Publishing...have yet to read a Loose Id book I didn't enjoy<br>Total E-Bound Publishing...like family.<br><br>There is more. Much more. Go check out <a href="http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/2011/12/lr-cafes-best-of-2011-awards-were.html?zx=616702cf837e7caf">Dawn Roberto's blog for the full list!</a><br><br>And as promised, the Anne Cain cover for my upcoming release, Better, to show why she's one of my cover artist heroes. Check <a href="http://annecain.deviantart.com/">her DeviantArt page</a> if you need further proof :) <br><br><br><br /><br /><a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/20120101-121426.jpg"><img src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/20120101-121426.jpg" alt="20120101-121426.jpg" class="alignnone size-full" /></a></p>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-2355256138666385982011-12-29T19:20:00.000-05:002011-12-29T19:20:14.112-05:00Book Talk: First Watch by Peter Hansen<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br />
I'm not entirely sure why I chose this book as the first book I read from <a href="http://riptidepublishing.com/" target="_blank">Riptide Publishing</a>. It seemed like a good idea at the time?<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/First_Watch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-965" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/First_Watch.jpg" style="border-color: initial; border-style: initial;" title="First_Watch" width="200" /></a><br />
It's making me...squeamish. It isn't even very long and I'm finding I have to read it small doses at a time because I'm not liking the situation or, in a strange way, the main character. But still, I feel for him and his predicament. I'm kinda pissed at him for how things are turning out for his friend, but the details on the sale page promise me a HFN ending, so I shall soldier on.<br />
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And in fact, I don't want to turn anyone off this book. Just because I'm having difficulty with it doesn't mean everyone will. Some of my very favorite books, like The Slayer's Apprentice by Zathyn Priest and the Last Harold Mage Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey, I had this same visceral reaction to. It isn't a bad reaction, necessarily. Its a strong one. One that can't be ignored. One that comes when the book is well written, engaging and demanding. That's strong writing, strong editing, and commitment by the author. It demands commitment from the reader, and you definitely have to be prepared to give this book your attention, whether you like it or not.<br />
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For me, whether I like the book or not, I suspect will strongly hinge on the ending. If that is as strongly written as the rest, not a cop out, and not gratuitous, then I suspect despite my squeamishness thus far, I will not only like it, but probably re-read it some day. As a writer myself, I can't ask for more than to touch a reader so deeply they want to read the same thing over again.Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-13099109495657183862011-12-01T19:40:00.003-05:002011-12-01T19:41:08.731-05:00Launch of Lords of Aether<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2011/12/01/launching-today-lords-of-aether/lordsofaether2/" rel="attachment wp-att-924"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-924" height="158" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/LordsofAether2.jpg" title="LordsofAether2" width="922" /></a>Today is the big day! I haven't mentioned it much because it always seemed like forever off and I was sort of in big star denial that I get to work on this project with these terrific authors, but the day is here, and Lords of Aether has launched!<br />
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This is the brainchild of Lex Valentine, and when she invited me to join the illustirous company of Stephani Hetch, KC Burns, Charlie Cochrane, Z.A. Maxfield, and Jason Edding, I was completely stoked and floored at the same time that she decided to put such faith in my abilities to keep up with these writers.<br />
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Let's hope I don't let the down! Today, Lex has kicked our story off with the first installment of this free serial.<br />
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Check out the Story Blurb:<br />
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<strong>In turn of the century London, a handful of men, members of the exclusive Lords of Aether club, discover that the English Empire is under assault by a nebulous enemy. Murders of key figures in the criminal underworld abound and innocent men are framed for the crimes. Government officials change their stance on political issues overnight following the near death experiences of those close to them. Experiments related to aether are covered up. Inventors and others with military knowledge have mysteriously disappeared. Strange banking and finance issues cripple the Empire. As the government’s funds dry up, crime rises, signaling approaching anarchy. Something dire is afoot and disparate clues lead to one dead end after another for the Lords of Aether.</strong><br />
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<strong>The search for a missing lover becomes the painstaking uncovering of a plot against the world’s governments that begins with the crippling of the English Empire. The Lords of Aether battle their own demons and personal issues as they work together to discover just who is behind the ingenious and nefarious plot. When their investigations lead them to an ancient arcane society they find more chaos and evil than they ever imagined existed. A master criminal with ties to the Imperial family, unlimited wealth and resources, and no conscience leads them down a twisted path of destruction and deception. The Lords of Aether must pool their own resources, call upon their trusted friends and family members and work together to save the Empire and the world.</strong><br />
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Then go on and read <a href="http://lordsofaether.com/the-story/" target="_blank">Lex's first post</a>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-9565787876343602212011-11-25T14:09:00.000-05:002011-11-25T14:09:05.167-05:00Friend Release: Jamie Fessenden: The Dogs of Cyberwar<div><p><a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/dontkickmycane/pic/0005qksw/"><img style="float: left; border-width: 0px; border-style: solid; margin: 10px;" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/dontkickmycane/pic/0005qksw/s640x480" alt="" width="320" height="480" /></a>So, visiting today is Jamie, a fellow Dreamspinnre author, and the book he has coming out is not exactly the romance normally talk about, but it looks really good, just the same. Check it out:</p><p><em><strong><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?cPath=55_356&products_id=2644">"The Dogs of Cyberwar" by Jamie Fessenden</a> </strong></em></p></div><div><strong>BLURB</strong> Connor is a netrunner: a hacker who ventures into cyberspace to steal data from corporate computers. As he hides out in the slums of Seattle, he’s attacked by a street gang and, incredibly, rescued by one of the members. His rescuer is a man named Luis, who has decided Connor needs his protection.</div><div>But instead of providing safety, Luis’s presence wreaks havoc with Connor’s online identity, and they find themselves hunted by a lethal security force. While they attempt to escape the city, Connor finds himself struggling to survive with the most lethal killer ever pitted against the corporations that control the FreeCorp—and he risks losing his heart to the same man.</div><div><strong>EXCERPT</strong> -- Rated PG -- M/M -- "The Dogs of Cyberwar" by Jamie Fessenden</div><div>The gym had sleep capsules in a room off to one side of the locker room. These were “rooms” just big enough for a person to crawl into and sleep. But they were comfortable enough and provided access to the Net, which Connor would need in order to finish the job he’d contracted for. </p><p>But when he swiped his wrist across the reader and the door swung open, he discovered a new drawback to having Luis for his bodyguard.</p><p>“Is that big enough for both of us?” the Latino asked, peering into the capsule.</p><p>This took Connor aback. “What? No, not really. Can’t you get your own?”</p><p>“I don’t have any money,” Luis reminded him.</p><p><em>Jesus</em>. Just how much was this deal going to end up costing him on a regular basis?</p><p>“I suppose I could rent you a capsule,” Connor said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. The capsules were pretty pricey.</p><p>“That’s all right,” Luis replied. “I’ll just keep watch out here.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous. You have to sleep.”</p><p>“If I’m locked in another capsule, I might not hear if somebody comes after you.”</p><p>“It’s not like I get attacked every time I try to sleep,” Connor protested. But he could see from the look in Luis’s eyes that this argument wouldn’t get him anywhere. Luis had decided that Connor needed to be protected. And that meant not leaving his side, apparently. “So your idea of being my bodyguard is pretty much what other people would call a ‘stalker’?”</p><p>“Don’t you think your bodyguard should be nearby whenever you need him?”</p><p>“If I have to take a shit, are you going to come into the stall with me?” Connor asked him, irritated. “No, don’t answer that. We’ll save it for a surprise. In the meantime, if you’re going to be like this, you might as well just get in the goddamned capsule with me. They’re big enough for two, if<br /><br />
you don’t mind being snug. But leave everything you don’t need in the locker.”</p><p>Following his own advice, Connor stripped to his underwear. There certainly wasn’t going to be room in there to undress if Luis was inside with him. The one thing he brought in was his cyber deck.</p><p>Luis followed his example and stripped to his underwear, though he insisted on bringing his gun with him into the capsule. Connor prayed neither of them rolled over on it in the night.</p><p>It was pretty cramped when they were both inside and the door was locked, but thankfully the capsule had air conditioning. Not that Luis smelled bad. In fact, once he was stretched out beside Connor, his chest at the level of<br /><br />
Connor’s face, Connor found that he liked the faint masculine musk Luis seemed to radiate. The scent was clean and held a trace of the generic liquid soap available in the gym shower, but it was unmistakably manly.</p><p>It was impossible for their skin not to touch in this close space, but Luis didn’t seem to care. When Connor glanced up at his face, he found Luis looking at him thoughtfully with those beautiful dark eyes. Not for the first time, Connor wondered whether Luis was gay or straight. So far, he hadn’t given much indication—unless the fact that he had a strong desire to make himself subservient to another man was a sign.</p><p>“Um… just so we’re clear about this,” Connor began, uncertain how exactly to phrase the question, “Are you…expecting sex out of this arrangement?”</p><p>Luis shook his head, smiling at his discomfort. “No. Although I did my time giving hand jobs for money, so if you want me to get you off….”</p><p>“No,” Connor answered quickly. Luis was certainly not the first guy he’d known who’d resorted to prostitution to get by, so he didn’t fault him for it. But he didn’t want some guy helping him “get off” if the guy wasn’t enjoying it himself. “So you don’t like guys, then?”</p><p>Luis shrugged. “I guess I don’t really care one way or another. If I like someone, I’ll fuck them. It doesn’t matter if they’re male or female.”</p><p>“All right. That’s cool. I generally just like guys, myself.”</p><p>“<em>Muy bien</em>.”</p><p>That seemed to end the discussion. Connor wasn’t certain if he liked the fact that Luis had left the possibility of sex open. This guy was already complicating his life. If they started fucking around, it would get even more complicated.</p><p><em>* * *</em></p><p>Luis smiled at Connor and lowered his head to the pillow they’d be sharing. “I already have a job as a bodyguard.”</p><p>“I can’t pay.”</p><p>“Just feed me. That’s all I need.”</p><p>“And a ‘purpose’?”</p><p>“I want someone to protect,” Luis said, his voice beginning to sound sleepy. “I don’t like being the bad guy. Is that wrong?”</p><p>Connor sighed. “No, it’s not wrong. But you realize you’re protecting someone who steals and destroys data, don’t you? I’m not exactly a ‘good guy,’ myself.”</p><p>There was no response, and Connor glanced up to see that Luis had drifted off. Asleep, there was something innocent and childlike in his beautiful face. Of course, Connor had to remind himself, this was the man he’d just seen cut two men into tiny pieces.</p></div>Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091386816463762372.post-1663609869303942142011-11-20T12:16:00.001-05:002011-11-20T15:15:41.000-05:00Sunday Entertainment: Nov 20, 2011<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-805" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Hot-Heads-300x300.jpg" style="border-color: initial; border-style: initial;" title="Hot Heads" width="300" /></div><br />
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To start off with, <a href="http://www.damonsuede.com/fiction.html" target="_blank">Damon</a>, once again, has gone and put himself in the spotlight. His book, <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_429" target="_blank">Hot Head</a>, has made it into the semi-finals of Goodreads's best romance of 2011. So that's cool beans. Congrats, Damon. As I've mentioned my opinion before, well deserved. (It might be I keep talking about this because I just love the look of the cover and want to post it again. That's always a possibility.)<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2011/11/20/sunday-entertainment-nov-19-2011/torch-song-trilogy-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-878" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-878" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Torch-Song-Trilogy1-206x300.jpg" title="Torch-Song-Trilogy" width="206" /></a>This week, I finally took some time for myself and watched a movie. I picked up <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Torch-Song-Trilogy-Anne-Bancroft/dp/B0001HAGRE" target="_blank">Torch Song Trilogy</a>. Now, I'm not a gay guy, so I might have missed a few cliches present in this movie. I dare say there were more than a few, like the gay bashing death of beloved, the bi guy who can't decide what he wants, and the mother...the Jewish, New York mother...wow. But...She was definitely cliche, yes. She was also...oddly sympathetic, though at some points I wanted to hate her. I really did, but in the end, couldn't, because she might have been closed off and narrow in her definitions of things, but she didn't stay that way. She <em>tried</em>, and that made all the difference as to how I felt about her character. And the scene between Arnold and his mother?<br />
<blockquote><i>"You want to be a part of my life, I'm not editing out the parts you don't like...There's one more thing you'd better understand: I have taught myself to sew, cook, build furniture, fix plumbing, I can even pat myself on the back when necessary. All so that I don't have to ask anyone for anything. There's nothing I need from anyone except love and respect and anyone who can't give me those two things has no place in my life."</i></blockquote>That will be one of my favorite scenes in any movie for a really long time, I think. I can't think of a sentiment truer to life than that, and brilliantly presented, writing, acting, everything. Great movie. I'll probably rent it again.<br />
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<a href="http://jaime-samms.net/2011/11/20/sunday-entertainment-nov-19-2011/dsp-2x3/" rel="attachment wp-att-882" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright size-full wp-image-882" height="300" src="http://jaime-samms.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/DSP-2x3.gif" title="DSP-2x3" width="200" /></a><strong>WHAT MY PUBLISHERS ARE UP TO</strong><br />
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There are three special events going on at Dreamspinner between now and the end of November that you may want to know about:<br />
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First, we're having a We Are Thankful Sale, 20% off everything on the web site through Nov. 30.<br />
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Secondly, we reached 1500 fans again on our Facebook page after FB ate the old one. To say thank you, there's a code on the page for 15% off one order of any size over the next year. Please visit the FB page,<a href="http://www.facebook.com/dreamspinnerpress," target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/dreamspinnerpress,</a> to get the code.<br />
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Finally, every purchase between now and Nov. 30 enters you in a drawing for a Kindle Fire, to be drawn on Dec. 1.<br />
<strong>ON THE HOME FRONT</strong><br />
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It snowed. That is all.Jaime Sammshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03756034484406953047noreply@blogger.com0