Monday, April 30, 2007

Sunday, April 29, 2007

RT Report: Good News, Bad News

Good news: I got to meet the awesome Samhain staff, plus my crit partners (J.L. Langley, Jet Mykles, L.M. Prieto, and our pre-published partner Kimber) and soooooo many cool readers, publishers, booksellers, cover models, etc etc. Also got to meet Laura Baumbach, a.k.a. Fearless Leader of the Manloveromance group. I've talked until I practically have no voice left, and I've had a GREAT time doing it :D

Bad news: the management of the Hyatt made the RT people take down the Manloveromance display, because it was "too risque". Laura attempted to discuss this with the Hyatt management, but was told they would not discuss it with her. We were all very disappointed with the lack of response from the hotel. On the up side, we received a great deal of support from other authors, publishers, etc. There was, as I understand, a call to the Rainbow Coalition hotline.

It's late, so this is short. But I thought everyone should know that the management of the Hyatt in Houston (on Louisiana street) had this homophobic moment. I have no idea if this is usual for them, or if that particular manager was just being difficult and got in trouble later, but it's not looking good.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Happy Friday!!

I admit I slacked and didn't get to work on my contribution to Kitsune yet. But I do have have a tasty little morsel for an upcoming book to share....

Randy Ohara stood near the door of the bar area of the nightclub in the city’s Chelsea section and watched as the roadies placed equipment on the stage in the main room for the live band scheduled to begin their set at nine. He hadn’t been to this club in ages but the place hadn’t changed all that much.

The background music was still loud, the crowd tonight mostly goth kids drawn by the heavy metal Japanese band making a rare US appearance. At thirty-four Randy felt pretty old compared to the knot of teenagers streaming toward the stage but there were enough parents scattered throughout the crowd to make him feel not quite so out of place. He didn’t know the band and didn’t understand a word of Japanese despite his family’s heritage. But he’d seen the crowd lined up around the block, excitedly filing into the club, and thought what the hell, he’d give it a go.

Housed in a former church, The Resurrection was perpetually grungy with its entrance on busy Sixth Avenue. The expansive central portion of the building sported a high vaulted ceiling above a dimly lit balcony area with the wooden stage taking up the portion where the original alter would have been. The bar area was opposite and separated from the entrance by the walls added after the church’s conversion. There were a few dozen adults here, either waiting for
their kids to watch the show or perhaps like him, just bored and looking for something to do.

Lonely, Randy. You’re lonely.

Randy sipped his beer, wishing his inner voice or conscience or whatever the hell you called it was a bug like Jiminy Cricket that he could flick off and step on. Still he couldn’t deny that the inner voice was right. He really needed to stop angsting over losing Harry and get into the dating game. But shit he felt so weird. He’d been with Harry since their senior year of high school. He
hadn’t ever really dated and with the disease thing he was nearly scared shitless to try. He and Harry had been each other’s first.

Finishing his beer, Randy took the empty bottle back to the bar and asked if the men’s room was still where he remembered it to be. Finding that it was, Randy stepped out to the main area and made his way along the wall and past the throng of chattering kids. Out in the central corridor he had to pause repeatedly as he stepped past and around those entering or crowding the merchandise table set up to sell the band’s CDs and T-shirts.

A drop-dead gorgeous Asian guy dressed in a white silk shirt and leather pants exited through a narrow door marked “No Admittance” and disappeared into the crowd. The sexy Asian took Randy’s breath away and as he craned his neck to see where the man went, he smacked into someone.

The guy turned and scowled. “Watch it, buddy.”

“Sorry, someone bumped me.”

This man—also Asian, also gorgeous—rolled his eyes and turned back to the woman he was with as Randy stepped past him. Randy’s pulse quickened when he heard the guy say “Grab me a beer, I’m hitting the restroom first”.

Yeah, Randy was lonely these days and tonight he was feeling awfully horny for some reason. Inside the restroom the four urinals and three stalls were all in use. Randy stepped away from the door and stood by the first of three sinks to wait his turn. The guy he’d bumped into outside entered and Randy motioned for him to go first and take a urinal when it became available.

“You can have it. I need to take a dump,” the guy said with typical New York candor.

Randy caught himself feeling disappointed as he headed for the urinal. He wouldn’t have minded taking a look at the man’s package just to see if it was as promising as the rest of the guy. The guy’s leather jacket did nothing to mask the broad shoulders underneath while those form-fitting jeans hugged the man’s tight rear and emphasized the rounded bulge of his cock at the front.

Shit, I am horny, Randy thought with a shake his head.

After taking care of his business Randy headed back to the bar. Before he reached the crowded alcove he saw the woman the guy from the restroom had been with. She was talking to a girl who must have been about fourteen or so and who reminded him of his younger sister. In fact the girl’s obvious attitude really reminded him of Emmi. It was hard to believe that she was twenty-six now and getting married in a couple days.

Getting another beer, Randy stood near the door again, his gaze wandering again to the woman and girl and the guy who joined them. The guy gave the teenager a stern look and the attitude seemed to slip right out of her. She nodded yes then scurried off to join some friends as the houselights dimmed in preparation of the band’s appearance on stage.

The guy and his wife approached the entrance to the bar and Randy nodded a greeting as they passed. The guy did likewise and Randy felt the weight of that stare like none before. Damn the guy was hot. Older, somewhere in his forties maybe, and he carried himself with such an air of authority that Randy couldn’t help but be impressed. It didn’t help that the stranger reminded him a little of Jet Li in fact. Randy regretted the comparison when the thought sent his blood rushing between his legs. His cock pushing up against the fly of his pants, Randy slipped off his own jacket and held it in front to conceal the hard-on. He glanced back into the bar and watched the guy take a bottle of beer and a mixed drink to a small table on the left side of the bar area.

With a sigh, Randy forced himself to focus on his own bottle of beer before he needed another run to the bathroom to jerk himself off.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007


I know I've been doing Thursday Thirteen, but today I thought I'd give an excerpt. This is my werewolf book which I need to get back to. At the moment, it's due out December, but I've got to get moving. It's Alec and Seamus's story, but Ira also plays an important role. (This excerpt has not been edited.)


“Mr. Alec?” said the rather wobbly voice. Each week, Ira’s first question required bravery and a fortifying deep breath. As if Alec often snarled at the children and made them cry.

“Yes, Ira?” Alec smiled encouragement, looking into the eight year old’s round brown eyes. So serious.

“Do bears dance for fun?”

“Probably not,” Alec admitted.

“I think they only dance when people make them dance.” Ira evidently found this a little sad.

“I’m sure you’re right. The bears in the book aren’t quite the same as real-life bears.” Though Ira knew that. He just wanted a discussion. Alec winked. “Bears don’t actually speak either.”

Ira glowed at Alec’s wink. Any show of camaraderie appeared to thrill Ira no end. Which led Alec to forgive any and all questions, no matter their number. And there were many.

Ira opened his mouth to say more and Alec held up a finger. “Let Sandy have her turn.”

The tiny, freckle-faced girl piped up. “Mr. Alec, will you read us another Boxcar Children book next week?”


“And…” Here, Sandy unknowingly adopted a sly look. “…a Babysitter’s Little Sister book?”

As if hoping Alec wouldn’t notice the name. “Afraid not, Sandy. That’s an acquired taste.” Meaning, the boys wouldn’t sit through those books. “But please, take out as many as you like from the library.”

“I like it when you read books,” she said winningly. Alec was tempted to cave with that devastating smile of hers, but he held firm.

“Why thank you, Sandy. I like to read books.” By now Ira was openly glaring at Sandy as if she had encroached on his territory, namely Alec.

Sandy was oblivious, as she should be. “See you next week, Mr. Alec!” she sang and skipped off to join her friends.

Ira, alas, did not seem to have friends to skip off to. He planted himself beside Alec, placing a hand on Alec’s knee, then glancing quickly to see if it was all right.

Alec smiled casually.

“I like Boxcar Children,” allowed Ira. “But couldn’t you read Harry Potter?”

“Too long, Ira, for reading hour.”

“You could break it up.”

“You’ll have to read yourself. Sorry.”

“I can’t read Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix.”

Alec hadn’t been thinking of that tome but the first, shortest book. “No?”

Ira shook his head solemnly. “My brother won’t let me.”

Brother? Did that mean no parents for Ira? Alec hoped not. “Then I really can’t read it to you, bud.”

Ira’s lower lip stuck out. “I guess not.” He gazed up at Alec beseechingly. “Maybe you could tell Seamus I’m old enough now.”

“Seamus?” The name startled Alec, though the golden Seamus he’d met two months ago should have long been scrubbed from memory. Ira blinked and Alec collected himself. “Is Seamus your brother?”

Ira removed his hand, unsure of Alec’s reaction. But really, there wasn’t only one Seamus in the world and dark, curly-haired Ira did not resemble Seamus one bit.

“Yes.” Ira stared at his feet. “He looks after me.” Again, he darted a look at Alec to see how he took such information.

“That’s cool.”

Ira’s face brightened at the affirmation. “I like him, even if he won’t let me read Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix. And Seamus likes me.”

“I’m sure he does.” Alec looked up to see the teacher gathering the kids together to leave. Ira resolutely ignored the activity.

“You know, Ira, best to listen to your brother. Wait and read the Order of Phoenix when you’re older.”


“We’ll see you next week.”


Alec pointed to the other children and Ira trudged over to the class. Mrs. Sellers’s class chanted "thank you" and "goodbye" to Alec; thirty children and three adults marched out of the library.

Sharon, his lifesaver, bustled over. “It would drive me batty reading to all those squirming kids. I’m grateful you don’t mind. You’re so good with them.”

Alec eyed her. “You don’t have to act like I’m doing you the favor.” Sharon had got him this job at the library and then convinced their boss that Alec would be great for reading hour.

“Pshaw. You are. Not everyone is cut out to work with kids. You should be a teacher.”

Alec redirected the conversation back to the library. He had no resources for something like teacher’s college. “It’s a good outreach program.”

Sharon paused. Before she could launch into her teacher’s-college spiel, Alec asked, “Ever meet a Seamus?” Alec rather hoped Seamus was some burly genial guy well-known at the library.

Sharon gave the question some thought. “Once. Ten years ago.”

“Huh.” Alec remembered Seamus’s shaking hand and frowned.

“Hey, he’s not worth it if he doesn’t appreciate you.”

“Nah. I don’t even know him.”

But evidently Ira knew Seamus, or his namesake.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Meet me in Houston!

This post is brief. Like a million other romance lovers, I'll be descending upon Houston this week for the big Romantic Times convention. It's my first full one, I did the book fair only last year. Can't wait, looking forward to meeting other authors and readers and hopefully making sense of this crazy publishing world.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Thank You & A Sneak Peek

Thanks to everyone who commented on last weeks post, WIP Wars. I've decided to take everyone's advise and concentrate on the Pyrokinesis story, instead of the vampire one. Here's a little glimpse of Pyromancer for your viewing pleasure.

Unedited Excerpt
(c) 2007 Amanda Young

Chapter One

Joe Ryder sat in the dark, his fist slowly stroking his swollen cock. His gaze was riveted on the flickering television screen. On it, two men were in the final throws of orgasm, the butch top spraying come all over the younger man’s upturned face. It was a hot scene, one that never failed to get him off. Until tonight.

The movie ended and the credits began to roll across the screen. With a disgusted huff, Joe released his semi-hard shaft and reached for the remote control lying next to him on the bed. He hit stop on the DVD player and turned off the TV, plunging his bedroom into darkness. His pulse pounded in his ears, the only noise to be heard in the silent house, as his frustration mounted.

It’d been over six months since the last time he’d gotten laid. Since the last time he’d taken a chance and risked being with someone else. It hadn’t gone so well—a fucking disaster really— with the end result testing his rigid self-control almost past the limits of his endurance.

The guy he’d picked up and brought home had taken offense at being asked to leave right after they’d fucked and had thrown a temper tantrum, refusing to leave. Not something he’d expected from a six foot, body builder who’d claimed he was only interested in a good time. By the time Joe forcibly removed the man from the property, his body temperature was dangerously high and his head was spinning. After that close call, he’d decided it was too dangerous to indulge in one night stands, which left him with little options other than his own left hand. Especially since he already had a self-imposed rule against becoming emotionally attached to anyone he fucked. Mixing emotions and sex fucked with the most normal person’s head. For him and whomever he got involved with, it could mean much more than a broken heart. It could be deadly.

Security lights from outside filtered through the mini-blinds covering his bedroom window in sporadic spurts of light, briefly illuminating his damp and sweaty body lying atop tangled, white cotton sheets. He kicked at them, unraveling himself.

Irritated with himself and his lot in life, Joe sat up. He leaned back against the cool brass headboard and flipped on the bedside lamp. His gaze flittered down to the big, red numbers on his alarm clock. Almost midnight.

Restless and exasperated, he couldn’t sleep. He picked up yesterday’s newspaper off the side table and spread it out over his lap. Since jerking off wasn’t going to work for him, maybe he could bore himself to death by reading the paper. It was worth a shot. Losing sleep made his control over his curse temperamental.

Page by page, Joe skimmed over the paper, until he reached the personal ads. Those babies were like the funny pages to him. Why someone would put an ad in the newspaper, hoping for a good outcome, was beyond his comprehension. Only the fugly and desperate sunk to that level of desperation.

He read over a few ads, laughing, until a small square down on the bottom, right-hand corner that caught his eye. It was an advert for an escort agency. One that claimed to cater to men of his persuasion: gay men looking for nothing more than a hot body to warm their lonely beds.

The agency, Male Companions, promised anonymity and, more importantly, clean bills of health for all their available staff. He never fucked anyone without a rubber, so it was a bit of a moot point, but the words comforted him somehow.

Before Joe realized his intent, the cordless phone was in his hand, his fingers tapping out the number. A feminized male voice answered, saying, “Thank you for calling, Male Companions. Nigel speaking. How may I help you?”

Joe opened his mouth to speak and froze. What the hell was he doing? He did not want to pay for sex. Doing so went against every moral he had. He clicked the off button, hanging up.

He exhaled, relieved that he’d come to his senses before doing something he knew he would regret later. His gaze wandered over his bedroom, hovering on the 52 inch plasma TV, the only other thing in there besides his bed and nightstand. Not a single picture or piece of artwork marred the clean lines of the bare, white walls. Whereas before the stark sterility of his home appeared simple and clean to him, it now felt barren and depressing.

His hands shook as he picked up the phone and redialed the number.

Tanner O’Bannon sat slumped over his kitchen table, trying to balance his checkbook. Money was tight, his balance down to just above two bucks, but at least he wasn’t in the negative anymore. He couldn’t afford the outrageous overdraft fees the bank charged. The last two had forced him to eat Ramen noodles for a month. If he never saw another noodle in his life, it would be too soon.

Tanner’s eyes blurred as he ran through the figures once last time, before flipping the checkbook closed. He folded his arms and laid his head on the cool surface of the mahogany table between them. He was exhausted, but needed to stay awake for just a little longer. On call for work until three am, he couldn’t afford to fall asleep and miss a single phone call. He needed the money too bad to risk losing his job, even if it was one he was ashamed of. Necessity overruled pride.

With heavily-lidded eyes, Tanner jerked his head up and shook it, trying to force himself to stay alert. He rose to his feet and walked over to the sink and splashed icy water on his cheeks. As he mopped his face with a clean dishtowel, the phone rang. He didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about it. On the one hand, it meant money; on the other, degradation. His father would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what his only son was doing to pay the debts he’d left behind.

Tanner crossed the room and picked up the phone. He listened for a moment and then set it back in the cradle, before jogging up the stairs. Upstairs, he hopped into the shower and quickly scrubbed himself from head to toe with citrus scented body-wash. He stepped out and yanked a dry towel off the rack, briskly rubbing it over his hair and skin while he fumbled through a drawer under the sink for the lube and butt plug he’d stashed there.

He squeezed a dollop of lube into his hand and ran it over the plug, liberally coating its short length in moisture. He reached behind to swipe the remaining moisture through the creases of his ass. The toy in hand, he leaned over the toilet and braced his other on the back of the commode. He spread his legs shoulders width apart and took a deep breath, trying to relax his muscles as he pressed the blunt rubber tip against his asshole. Due at the motel in thirty minutes, there was no time to finesse it inside. He exhaled and shoved it home, wincing at the sharp burn of muscles stretching.

The things you had to do to make a buck, Tanner thought, as he grabbed the washcloth he’d used in the shower and wiped off the excess lube around the wide base of the plug. He dropped it in the sink and headed into his bedroom to dress.

It was time to go to work.


Waiting inside the modest motel room he’d rented for the night, Joe glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. Perched on the end of the bed, his sock clad toes tapped an unsteady rhythm on the cheaply carpeted floor, his body practically vibrating from nervous anticipation.
He was nervously trying to figure out what would happen once the escort showed up. Payment for the guy’s services had already been rendered over the phone—apparently even hookers took American Express these days—so at least he didn’t have to worry about having that conversation. Things would be awkward enough for him as it was.

More pertinent, was how things would play out. Was he supposed to strip and get right down to business as soon as the guy got there, or make small talk first? Would he inadvertently break some kind of silent rule if he asked the man anything personal? Could they even exchange more than first names? How would they decide who did what to who? He wasn’t stupid enough to think that the escort would turn down anything he asked for, but would it be possible for him to tell if the guy really wanted to do it or not? Was it just a job for him, a way to make a buck, or would he really enjoy it? The thought of fucking someone who just laid there and went through the motions repulsed him.

So many unanswered questions floated around in his head that he was beginning to get a headache. Sweat beaded his brow and his knees began to canter up and down. Maybe it wasn’t too late to cancel. He could call. Whether they refunded him his money or not was of no concern. They could keep it; he had more than he’d ever be able to spend anyway.

He didn’t think he could go through with this after all. It seemed too cold, too impersonal. A little voice in the back of his mind screamed, “That’s the point, jackass. You need cold and impersonal. Do you really want to grow attached to someone else and take a chance on losing control again, like you did before? Do you want to be responsible for someone else’s death?”

That thought chilled him. Joe forcibly shut down his memories before they transported him back to a time and place he didn’t want to visit. He pushed away his reservations and tried to consider why he’d called Male Companions in the first place.

He was lonely. Though he didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, it was the truth. The friends he’d made over the years, at both work and the firehouse where he volunteered, only went so far. During the day, he was fine. It was at night, after a long day at work or returning from an emergency fire call, that the loneliness crept in and haunted him.

He realized that this wasn’t even about sex, not solely. Sure, he wanted to get off, but what he really needed most was simple human contact, companionship. Sadly, that was the single thing he could never allow himself to possess. Attachments meant caring about someone, making himself vulnerable to a person he couldn’t control. In essence, losing control himself. That wasn’t something he could ever allow.

Joe took several deep calming breaths. He could do this. He had to. There weren’t any other options left for him. It was anonymous sex or nothing. Though he doubted it, all he could do was hope it would be enough to sustain him.


Tanner arrived at the motel with five minutes to spare. Town had been dead, not a car in sight on his way over. A good thing since old Bessie—his ten year old Mazda—had sputtered and died twice during the trip across town. It was only a matter of time before the old clunker finally gave out for good.

Part of him wished he’d hung onto his dad’s car, instead of selling it when his father was killed six months prior, but at the time he’d needed the money even more desperately than he did now. The debts his father left behind were astronomical. Even after he’d sold off everything of value besides the house itself, he still hadn’t brought in enough to cover half of what was owed. Hence, the reason for his shady new career.

For the last four months he’d been working nights for Male Companions as an escort. Selling his body to the highest bidder wasn’t the most respectable line of work, but he hadn’t known what else to do. It wasn’t like he could make enough to cover his college tuition and pay the mortgage, along with making payments on all of the other debts his father left on his shoulders, without resorting to something nefarious. He supposed he could have sold drugs; he knew enough small time dealers that he could have easily bought a little pot and divided up for resale.

Unfortunately, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to do that. Drugs killed people and no matter how often his buddies tried to convince him marijuana never hurt anyone, he just couldn’t quite believe them. A drug was a drug, plain and simple. Having sex for money, degrading as it was, didn’t hurt anyone besides himself. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had his share of casual sex along the way, just like everyone else. The only difference now was that he got paid for doing it.

Or so he tried to convince himself as he hustled through the motel lobby toward the service desk. Though he’d been told which motel to go to and given a name, he hadn’t been given a room number. Which meant he had to go to the desk and ask, something he dreaded every time he was forced to do it. He always imagined the clerk who waited on him knew exactly who he was and why he was there. It was humiliating.

He rang the bell and waited, tapping his fingers on the hard surface of the beige counter. A bored looking blonde, somewhere around his own age of twenty, sauntered out the back room, long, blood red fingernails plastered over her widely yawning mouth. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “Oh, hello.” She smiled. “Can I help you?”

Tanner groaned inwardly. He was used to being hit on by women, but that didn’t make him any more comfortable with it. “I’m supposed to meet a friend here.” Damn, what was the name he been told to ask for again? John… or Joe? “His name is, um, Joe, Joe Smith.” God, he hoped that was right. The last name was easy. It was always Smith. People had no imagination.

The smile on the girl’s face dimmed a bit as she turned to the computer and began to type. Silently, he watched her, wondering how she could type at all with those god-awful nails in her way.

She nodded down at the computer screen and then glanced over at him. “I’ll have to call up and ask permission before I can give you any information.” She turned away from him and picked up the phone. From over her shoulder, she said, “It’ll be just a moment.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning everywhere and nowhere at all. He just wanted to get to the room, do what he was being paid for, and go home. Afterward, he would be one day closer to financial solvency. One trick closer to owning the home he’d grown up in, free and clear.

He listened as she quietly spoke with someone, her side of the conversation consisting of mainly “yes sir” and “uh huh”. Finally, she hung up and faced him. “Mr. Smith says to send you up. He’s in room 204.”

“Thank you,” he uttered, already striding away from the desk. There was an elevator, but he bypassed it, choosing the stairs instead. He jogged up them quickly, without breaking a sweat, and shoved through the entrance door onto the second floor hallway.

The walls were adorned in hunter green wallpaper with a burgundy trim. The floor was carpeted in the same deep shade. The minute details were absorbed as he hustled to the end of the hall, glancing at room numbers along the way. 204 was located on the right, near the end, even on one side and odds on the other.

He stopped outside it and took a breath, giving himself a pep talk. You can do this. Just keep your eyes on the prize and get through it, same as always. It was no different than picking someone up at a club. No different at all.

He raised his clenched fist and knocked, his gaze dropping to his feet. Beginnings were strange. Some men wanted him to come in and bend over, take it up the ass like a good little whore and leave, while others wanted to make polite chitchat first. Out of the two, he wasn’t sure which he liked best. Probably the fuck-and-run guys; at least those assignments were faster.

He was still wondering what tonight’s call would be like when the door swung inward. Tanner looked up, and up, craning his neck back to gaze into the eyes of his client for the night and felt the standard greeting he recited to each of his Johns die in his throat.

Saliva pooled in Tanner’s mouth. Fuck. The man was easily six and a half feet of yummy muscle and lean, bottled sex if he was an inch, dwarfing his own five foot eight stature.

Tanner’s brain turned to mush as all the blood in his body drained south and squeezed into his cock, making his balls draw tight inside his Levi’s. His gaze cruised from the man’s tousled, short black hair to his socked feet and back up, absorbing all the details between. Brooding eyes, square jaw, broad shoulders and trim hips, every inch sex incarnate and designed to entice a man like Tanner to his knees in supplication.

The man was big, and gorgeous. Exactly the sort of guy who got Tanner’s motor running in overdrive. The kind of hunk he would’ve tried to pick up in any one of the bars he used to frequent, back when he actually had a life. A man he would’ve happily fucked for free, under other circumstances.

Except this was business.

A sheet of ice fell over Tanner, cooling his ardor, easily putting him back in his place. He wasn’t here on a social call. He was here to fuck for money.

Tanner schooled his features into a smile he’d carefully rehearsed in front of the mirror at home. It was supposed to look seductive, but something about the tight feel of his skin stretching out over his cheekbones told him it fell flat tonight. Oh well, he thought ruefully, another night, another dollar.

He met the big man’s gaze and held it. “I’m Tanner. The agency sent me.”

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Real Men Do, Real Men Don't

On several occasions, I've been told by gay men who've read my books that my guys act like guys. Now first off, I consider it a HUGE compliment to be told by a gay man that the gay men living in my head ring true for them. I LOVE that. And I know exactly what they mean when they say that. They don't mean my guys go around grunting and scratching their crotches, or whatever it is some people think Real Men are supposed to do. They mean that for them, the guys in my stories are believable as men, and don't come off as women with boy parts. Again, this is something I love hearing, because it means I've done my job as a writer.

The thing is, this always makes me think, what precisely is it that makes my guys guys? Is it the way they talk? The way they think? How they dress? In my experience, men are much the same as women in one respect: they can't be put into neat little boxes. You can't safely say "all men love baseball and hate ballet" anymore than you can say "all women love chick flicks and hate South Park". It simply isn't true. One frequent point of discussion is the expression of emotion. Some men are quite comfortable expressing their emotions; others would rather pull their toenails off with pliers than discuss Feelings. So what is it that makes a man a man? Or can it even be defined? I couldn't give you a list of qualities which make a man in a book come alive as a man for me, but I know it when I see it.

What about you? What makes a male character believable for you as a man?

Friday, April 20, 2007

Free Story--Kitsune Pt. 3

Continuing the misadventures of our over-sexed vampire lovers, I bring you Part 3 of Kitsune

part 1 available HERE
part 2 available HERE


Kiyoshi joined him at the archway and leaned over to look out at the darkened street as well. "Where did she say she was going?" he furrowed his brow.

"She didn't have a chance to," Ryu said. "The poor girl was completely distraught and in tears."

"Hmm," Kiyoshi took the first couple of steps down from the platform. "I don't sense her, and definitely none of those strong feelings you mentioned."

Ryu squinted at him. "Are you focusing correctly?" he touched his chin and cocked his head thoughtfully to one side. "She's young, about eighteen or so. Very beautiful, with the blackest hair and these lovely green eyes. Her name is Kaomi, she's dressed in an indigo kimono, and she's very beautiful."

"You said beautiful twice," Kiyoshi raised his eyebrows.

"Well, she was," Ryuhei blinked and shrugged weakly. He waved his hand through the air and continued down the steps. "But more importantly, she's very frightened and alone. So we should try to find her and help her."

Following a few steps behind, Kiyoshi pursed his lips. "What about finding our hotel room with the silk sheets?"

Ryuhei came to an abrupt stop and dropped his luggage trunk to the floor. "Oh, the hotel isn't going to grow legs and runaway," he gave an exasperated sigh and put his hands on his hips. "But that girl does have legs and she is getting away. So start focusing."

Kiyoshi leveled him with a very, very dry look. "I am, Ryuhei. She's not here."

"Are you sure?"


Ryu looked away with a sigh. "That poor girl, lost and alone in a country full of strangers," he clicked his tongue. "How will you be able to sleep today, Kiyo-kun?"

"It'll be easy if I have that nice big bed all to myself while you take the divan," Kiyoshi brushed past him.

Ryuhei watched him go by, his mouth open in shock. "How cold!" he picked up his trunk and followed after Kiyoshi. "I'm just worried for the--"

"'Poor girl', I know," Kiyoshi gave him another dry look.

"You don't have to get snippy," Ryuhei pouted.

Kiyoshi sighed, his expression softening. "Ryu-san, trust me when I tell you the young woman is not anywhere near us. I know how to control the powers of mind, and very well at that."

More a than three hundred year difference in their ages existed between the two men. Kiyoshi's face and lithe, graceful body were forever frozen in the form of a nineteen-year-old boy, but he carried the wisdom of a man who'd lived several very long lifetimes. The thought humbled Ryuhei.

"I'm sorry, Kiyo-kun," he said quietly.

Regretting he'd sunk some of Ryuhei's spirits, Kiyoshi bit down on his lower lip. He presed his had gently against Ryu's shoulder as they continued walking down the avenue. "Whoever, or whatever, you saw--she's gone. It's unusual, yes, but best to leave that way. I think."

“You’re right, of course.” But Ryu sounded a little less than convinced, glancing back towards the station. Rolling his eyes again, Kiyoshi nudged Ryu forward so they started for the hotel. The ‘girl’ was certainly a mystery, and who knew what kind of strange supernatural creatures were native to Europe. Ryu was still young a kyuuketsuki, and blood drinkers had two strong appetites to keep in check. Whatever Ryu had seen might’ve been trying to prey on his lust.

And Ryu certainly has plenty of that, Kiyoshi snorted. During the course of the train ride, they’d fucked more times than he could count. So how needy for with sex could Ryuhei still be?

“I shouldn’t bother asking,” Kiyoshi muttered.

“Ask what?” Ryuhei gave him a purely innocent look.

“Never mind.” Kiyoshi sighed and the two men came to stop as they reached the hotel.


Thursday, April 19, 2007

Thursday 13-blogging

Thirteen ways to blog

I'm kinda fascinated by blogging options and communities (which usually have blogs). So I decided to make a list. I realize that some of these are platforms and others are communities, so it's a bit of a mixed bag. But it's cool to think about how many options you have if you want to blog and/or network.

1. Wordpress
2. Blogger (heh)
3. Livejournal
4. MySpace
5. Facebook
6. Bebo
7. Ning
8. Textpattern
9. Journalscape
10. Typepad
11. MSN Spaces
12. Movable Type
13. Tripod

And I'm sure that's not all. I'm mostly familiar with Blogger, Wordpress, and Livejournal. Less so with MySpace (which seems difficult to navigate, although I know it's popular) and Journalscape. Facebook, Bebo and Ning seem like MySpaces, but I don't really know. The others I'm totally not familiar with. But if you know anything about any of these, especially the communities, tell me about them. I'm always curious!

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007


I stole this from someone. I don't even remember who but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry. It's too yummy not to share...

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

My favorite three-way: Me, Ben, Jerry

If anything could ease the frustration of a tax deadline, it's annual Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry's. We almost missed it this year, too. Had it not been for the sign outside the scoop shop by my house, I probably would have driven past without a second thought. So, the little one and I splurged on a pre-dinner snack. She had chocolate, I opted for Cherry Garcia because they didn't have my favorite flavor available.

I blog today about B&J because it is truly one of the perfect writing foods. I couldn't tell how grateful I am to my favorite purveyors of frozen dairy goodness and the many times they have eased the irritation of writer's block. Got stuck on Taste This, had a scoop of Cool Britannia and kept on writing. As it turned out, that was a good flavor to inspire further writing about a gay pastry chef abducted by an alien with a sweet tooth. Who knew?

If I had to base an ice cream flavor on any of my books, I know I couldn't use a vanilla base, because my writing is anything but! I do love chocolate, though, particularly bittersweet and dark, so I suppose I would have to add nuts (ha!) and maybe a marshmallow ribbon for added sweetness. Maybe add some fruit chunks like raspberry or strawberry, and top it with some whipped cream and hot fudge.

Damn, now I'm hungry. Well, I still have a Force submission to finish up for Phaze before the deadline. Hoping I get it done before I go to RT. I think I need to make a few trips to the freezer.

Monday, April 16, 2007

WIP Wars

Have you ever been just not sure what you want to work on next? I have two works in progress right now. Okay, so it’s more like five, but two in particular are running neck and neck for all my attention. I’m having a heck of a time trying to decide which one to focus on. I keep waffling back and forth, doing a little to one and then a little to the other. In the mix, I’m not accomplishing much.

So, I thought I would put it up for a vote. See what you all think sounds the most interesting and run with that one. I suck at synopses but here goes…

The first is a vampire story I’m calling Secrets & Lies. Some of you may have read the first chapter of this here on the blog a few weeks ago. It’s basically about a natural born vampire who struggles against diversity. He just so happens to falls in love with the very human he shouldn’t, and ends up with more on his plate then he can sink his teeth into.

The second is a paranormal tentatively titled Pyromancer. It’s about a man with the ability to control fire who’s scared of making connection with anyone because his emotions rule his ability. Desperate for human contact, he strikes up a bargain with a rent boy who has more to hide than he does and things quickly slide downhill from there.

So what do you think? Vampires and werewolves, oh my? Or a man who can ignite your fire, quite literally?

Sunday, April 15, 2007

This week, on Bay City Paranormal Investigations...

Okay, so I was supposed to blog this last Sunday, but I was on vacation and totally forgot. Sigh.
**smacks self**
So here it is now, a week late, but still hot :D

On Tuesday, April 10th, the saga of Sam, Bo, and the Bay City Paranormal Investigations gang continues with book two of the series, What Hides Inside. In this book you'll find angst, drama, mansex, and monsters! Don't miss out! Buy the book here!

And now, to whet your appetite, here's a blurb and an EXTRA-SPICY-HOT-EXPLICIT excerpt :D


Sam Raintree’s life changed forever when he started his dream job with Bay City Paranormal Investigations. In one fateful week, he learned he was psychic, discovered he possessed the power to open interdimensional portals, and accidentally let loose a horror like he’d never imagined. He also began a relationship with his boss, Dr. Bo Broussard, a man who’d been in the closet all his life.

Now, three months later, the burden of secrets has become too heavy for a fragile relationship to bear. Bo isn’t ready to come out, and Sam is tired of hiding. When Bo hires a new investigator, Dean Delapore, Sam is intrigued in spite of himself. Dean is bisexual, attractive, and very interested in Sam.

During the intense investigation of South Bay High School, from which three students have mysteriously disappeared, Sam and Dean draw closer together, while Bo pushes Sam away despite their feelings for one another. When the investigation erupts and Sam comes face-to-face with his worst nightmare, he has to decide whether to fight for Bo’s love, or let him go.

They moved at the same time, mouths fusing together in a hard, desperate kiss. Sam cupped Bo’s head in one hand, using the other arm to pull their bodies together. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, swallowing Bo’s soft little moans. Bo clutched him close, one hand fisted in his hair and the other sliding down to knead his ass.

“God, Sam,” Bo breathed. “I need you.”

Electricity surged through Sam’s veins. “Anything. Anything you want.”

“Let’s make love.”

The raw need in Bo’s voice made Sam’s chest tight. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t really want.”

Bo’s lips brushed Sam’s jaw. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, but I was afraid.” He pressed closer, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal digging into Sam’s thigh. “I’m not afraid anymore. I’m ready.”

The thought of making love to Bo was enough to bring Sam achingly erect in the space of a heartbeat. He kissed Bo again, very gently, hands stroking down Bo’s back. “I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

“I know.” Bo groaned when Sam’s hand slipped between his legs, tracing his hardness through the worn denim. “Just…let’s go slow, okay? I’ve never… No one’s ever done that, I haven’t even…touched myself that way.”

The fact that Bo was willing to bottom for him made Sam’s head swim. As much as he wanted it, though, he wanted something else more.

“Maybe another time,” Sam whispered. “Right now, I need you inside me.”

A shudder ran through Bo’s body. “Jesus.” He leaned against Sam’s chest, his heart pounding so hard Sam could feel it. “Take me to bed, before I fall down.”

Taking Bo’s hand, Sam led the way to the bedroom. His insides churned with a mix of desire and nervousness. He’d never been this anxious to please a lover. It’s being in love for the first time, he thought as he pulled Bo into his arms again. It changes everything.

Bo’s palms slid inside Sam’s T-shirt. “Get undressed, Sam. Let me see you.”

Obediently, Sam peeled his shirt off and threw it on the floor. Taking hold of the hem of Bo’s sweater, Sam lifted it, nudging Bo’s arms up so he could take it off. Once the garment was out of the way, Sam ran his hands over Bo’s chest, thumbs catching on his hard little nipples. “God, you’re gorgeous, Bo.”

Bo groaned. His hips rolled against Sam’s. “Pants. Off.”


Sam removed his own jeans first, wanting to put Bo at ease. Bo’s gaze raked down Sam’s body, hot and wanting. Reaching down, Bo yanked off his battered running shoes then started to undo his jeans. His hands shook. Staring into Bo’s eyes, Sam saw a lifetime of unfulfilled need, overlaid with a sheen of fear. He knew that fear, had felt it himself the first time he had sex with another man. Fear of the unknown, of something he’d been taught to believe was wrong. He didn’t want to see that look in Bo’s eyes. Sam was determined Bo would never again associate sex with anything but joy and pleasure and love.

“Don’t be afraid,” Sam murmured, never looking away from Bo’s wide eyes. Gently moving Bo’s hands out of the way, Sam flipped the button of his jeans open and slid the zipper down. “I’m going to take care of you.” He pushed Bo’s pants slowly down over his hips, leaning in for a feather-light kiss. “If you want to stop, just say so. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Bo gasped through parted lips when Sam’s fingers traced up his shaft. “Oh…”

Nudging Bo backward, Sam lowered him onto the edge of the bed. He tugged the jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them aside, and Bo was naked, finally, bare and vulnerable to Sam’s gaze. Sam pushed Bo’s knees apart and knelt between his open legs. Bo’s cock twitched against his belly, thick and dark and already leaking, making Sam’s mouth water. Bending down, Sam brushed his lips across the head, tongue snaking out to taste.

“Oh!” Bo cried, hips jerking. “God, Sam…”

Dipping his head, Sam nuzzled Bo’s balls, breathing deep to savor the scent of Bo’s arousal. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.” Sam stroked Bo’s thighs, loving the way the caramel-colored skin quivered at his touch. “How many times I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock.”

Bo whimpered and spread his legs farther apart. “Please. God, please.”

That was all the invitation Sam needed. He slid his lips over the tip of Bo’s prick and down, swallowing him to the root.

“Ah! Oh God.” Falling back onto the mattress, Bo thrust his hips up, shoving his cock down Sam’s throat in one swift, sharp motion. Not that Sam minded. He was perfectly happy to relax his muscles and let Bo fuck his mouth.

Before long Bo was writhing on the bed, legs flung wide and knees bent up, hands buried in Sam’s hair. His complete lack of inhibition came as a pleasant surprise to Sam, who’d expected to have his work cut out for him breaking through Bo’s reserve.

When he felt Bo’s shaft swell and pulse in his mouth, Sam pulled off with a pop. Raising his head, he grinned at Bo, who gaped at him in silent astonishment.

“D-don’t stop,” Bo gasped, trying to push Sam’s head back down. “So close, please.”

Sam pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Bo’s thigh. “Let me rim you.”

Bo’s eyelids fluttered, his cheeks going wonderfully pink. “Oh Christ.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Rising to his feet, Sam moved up and gave Bo a long, lazy kiss, letting his lover come down a bit. When he felt some of the tension run out of Bo’s body, he pulled back and settled on the floor between Bo’s parted knees. He pushed Bo’s legs up and just stared for a minute, licking his lips. Bo’s hole clenched and relaxed as he watched, as if inviting him in. It was more than Sam could resist. He spread Bo open and flicked his tongue over the dusky pink skin.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Sam declared, taking another taste. “Gonna tongue-fuck you ‘til you come.”

“Oh my God,” Bo moaned, fingers bunching the covers as Sam’s mouth closed over his hole. “Oh fuck, I’ve never… Oh… So good, Sam, yes…”

Sam bent happily to his task, spurred on by Bo’s increasingly loud moans and half-formed pleas for more. Humming his pleasure, Sam worked Bo’s hole relentlessly until the tight muscles began to relax. As soon as Bo was loose enough, Sam stabbed his tongue inside and wrapped a hand around Bo’s cock.

“Fuck!” Bo cried, pushing his ass against Sam’s face. “Oh God, Sam.”

That’s it, Sam thought, wriggling his tongue deeper as he fisted Bo’s cock. Come for me.


Be sure and pick up book one of the series,Oleander House, as well! Oleander House will also be available in print April 17th!

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Free Story--Kitsune Pt. 2

Continuing with the story Anne began posting the week before last I give you Part 2 of Kitsune

part 1 available HERE
* * *

He pulled away, kissing Ryuhei on the cheek. “We’re only a few minutes away from Paris now,” Kiyoshi said. “I checked with the conductor.”

Ryuhei’s shoulders drooped. “How many minutes?”


“Fine,” Ryuhei sighed. He lowered his voice to a sensual whisper. “Only because there’s a nice, soft bed waiting for us there. While I make love to you naked between satin sheets, I’ll whisper dirty, dirty words to you in French.”

Kiyoshi rolled his eyes and bit down on his lower lip to hide his smile. Ryuhei caught his expression despite the faint glow of the compartment’s lantern swinging overhead.

“Ha, I knew it!” he accused. “You’re teasing me.” His closed his eyes and slumped back against the seat, distraught. “My French is terrible, isn’t it? All those damned ‘L’s…”

“Your French is wonderful,” Kiyoshi laughed again. “You are terrible.”

Outside, more and more people were bustling around in the aisle. The train started to slow down and Ryuhei pressed up to the window. “Paris! This is going to be a wonderful stay. There’s so much art in this city, so many things to do. We could stay here for years, I think, and never see it all.”

Drinking in his lover’s enthusiasm and the energy radiating from his body, Kiyoshi leaned across the seat and wrapped his arms around Ryuhei’s waist. “We can stay however long you like,” he said.

Ryuhei looked away from the window and touched the sides of Kiyoshi’s face. “Thank you, kimi,” he smiled.

Kiyoshi dipped in for another kiss, this one long and passionate. “Let’s find our hotel.”

“Right away,” Ryuhei nodded.

They gathered their things and joined the other travelers as they spilled out into the Gare Montparnasse train station. In spite of the early morning hour, dozens of people crowded the building with their luggage cases while workers milled about the depot. Posters for local cabarets and shops and boutiques covered the walls, scattered newsprints and other bits of rubbish gathered in corners after having been trampled underfoot by the daily traffic.

“This way,” Ryu tugged on Kiyoshi’s shirt sleeve and headed towards an open archway that lead out to the street below. He slipped through the crowd with graceful ease, not once brushing against a mortal as he cleared the distance. It was strange then that he bumped into a woman just as he reached the edge of the platform.

“Excuse me,” he said, startled.

The woman turned around and bowed apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, her hands pressed across the front of her kimono.

“Oh, you’re Japanese,” Ryuhei blinked in surprise.

“I just arrived on the train and I’m afraid I’m lost,” the young woman furrowed her brow, her small, plum-colored lips turned into a pout. Tears formed in her eyes, two shimmering orbs of viridian the same color as the flower print on her haori. “Will you help me?”

The girl was quite lovely, and the pleading look she gave him tugged at Ryuhei’s heart…among other things. He gave her a reassuring smile and returned her bow. “Of course,” Ryu said, straightening and reaching out to tilt her chin up. “How could we leave a young thing like you to wander alone in this city?”

“Thank you,” her face brightened as Ryuhei gently wiped away her tears.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kaomi,” the young woman took his hand rather boldly and pulled him forward. “Help me find my way home.”

“We’re missing my companion,” Ryu stopped and the girl let go of his hand. He glanced over his shoulder as Kiyoshi finally caught up with them.

“Kiyo-kun, we have to help this poor girl,” he started to explain.

“Where did she go?” Kiyoshi frowned.

Ryuhei turned, the spot where the girl had been only a second before now empty. “That’s odd,” he leaned out of the archway and stared down the steps leading to the Avenue du Maine. The girl had vanished.

to be continued...

Thursday 13-movies

I've been thinking about how I watch fewer and fewer movies these days. I keep meaning to change that, but still. I never seem to have time to sit through an entire film, let alone make it to the theater. So, I though I'd list thirteen movies I have seen of late. Of late being a rather loose term. I may have to dig deep.

1. Little Miss Sunshine
I was utterly charmed by this one. The grandfather made me cringe. Greg Kinnear was very, very good.
2. The Lake House
A bit slow, but I like the leads. Yeah, I know some people complain that Keanu Reeves can't act, but I disagree. I'm not saying he's the best of his generation or anything, but I found him quite personable.
3. She's the Man
Watched with my kids. Eh. But the lead, Channing Tatum or Tatum Channing, was cute. Didn't look like a teen though.
4. How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days
Silly and charming. I liked the leads, Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey.
5. The Wedding Planner
Okay, so whathisname was hot (Dermott?), but this fell flat for me on so many levels.
6. Bride and Prejudice
I enjoyed it, though I honestly don't remember much of it now. Kinda fun, the breaking into song and dance.
7. Charlotte Gray
Good. Was fascinated by Billy Crudup. Found all the very English accents in France a bit jarring.
8. Stage Beauty
Fascinated by Billy Crudup…
9. Proof
I thought this was excellent, especially Paltrow's performance, also Anthony Hopkins is very good.
10. Brokeback Mountain
Good movie, too sad for my taste, though I liked the first half. I found myself glancing at my watch the second half.
11. About a Boy
Love love love. I don't know why I love this movie so much. Killing me softly…
12. Love Actually
It was okay.
13. Mean Girls
Both Lindsay Lohan and Rachel McAdams were excellent!

And now after wracking my brain, I immediately remember Wedding Crashers, which manages to be many things at once, as well as entertaining.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

RT baskets

Less than two weeks to RT and I need your help. This is my first time going to a convention. Yikes! I'm nervous and have no clue what to do. So lend me a hand and let me know what kind of things you like to find in those hundreds of gift baskets being given away.

Forced to Submit

I'll make this brief. This is a writing night for me, and with the holiday I didn't get much done. Lots to make up for. Now, my friends at Phaze are goading me into writing something for the upcoming Force line, but the deadline is like, very soon. I had an M/M story in mind, a tale of misunderstanding and fighting the law (and the law winning, among others). We'll see how it goes.

Ltr, Leigh

Monday, April 9, 2007

Life Experience Quiz

Good morning. I found this quiz piddling around on the internet yesterday and thought it looked interesting. Feel free to copy and paste it into the comments section with your answers, or just tally up your score and share.

I had an asthma attack ()
Smoked A Cigarette(x )
Smoked A Cigar(x )
Smoked Weed(x)
Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex ()
Drank Alcohol (x)
Been In Love (x)
Been Dumped (x)
Been Fired (x)
Been In A Fist Fight ()
Snuck Out Of A Parent's House (x)
Had Feelings For Someone Who Didn't Have Them Back (x)
Been Arrested/Seen Someone You Know Get Arrested ()
Made Out With A Stranger (x)
Gone Out On A Blind Date ()
Had A Crush On An Older Person (x)
Skipped School ( x)
Slept With A Co-worker( )
Seen Someone / Something Die (x)
Been On A Plane ()
Thrown Up From Drinking (x)
Eaten Sushi ( )
Been Snowboarding ()
Been Mosh Pitting()
Taken Pain Killers (x)
Love(d)or Lust(d) Someone Who You Can't Have (x)
Been in a bad relationship (x)
Laid On Your Back And Watched Cloud Shapes Go By (x)
Made A Snow / Sand Angel (x)
Had A Tea Party (x)
Flown A Kite (x)
Built A Sand Castle (x)
Gone Puddle Jumping (x)
Played Dress Up (x)
Jumped Into A Pile Of Leaves (x)
Gone Sledding (x)
Cheated While Playing A Game (x)
Been Lonely (x)
Fallen Asleep At Work / School (x )
Used A Fake / Someone Else's ID ()
Watched The Sun Set/ sun rise (x)
Felt An Earthquake ()
Kissed A Snake ()
Been Tickled (x)
Been Robbed / Vandalized ( )
Robbed Someone ()
Been Misunderstood (x)
Pet A Deer (x)
Won A Contest( x)
Been Suspended (x )
Had Detention(x)
Been In A Car/ Motorcycle Accident (x)
Had / Have Braces ()
Eaten a whole liter of ice cream in one night (x)
Had deja vu (x)
Danced in the moonlight (x)
Hated The Way You Look (x)
Witnessed A Crime (x)
Questioned Your Heart (x )
Been obsessed with post-it-notes (x)
Squished Barefoot Through The Mud (x)
Been Lost(x )
Been To The Opposite Side Of The World ()
Swam In The Ocean (x)
Felt Like You Were Dying (x)
Cried Yourself To Sleep (x)
Played Cops And Robbers( x)
Recently Colored With Crayons / Colored Pencils / Markers(x)
Sang Karaoke()
Done Something You Told Yourself You Wouldn't (x)
Made Prank Phone Calls( x)
Laughed Until Some Kind Of Beverage Came Out Of Your Nose(x) Kissed In The Rain(x)
Written A Letter To Santa Claus (x )
Been Kissed Under A Mistletoe (x)
Watched The Sun Set With Someone You Care / Cared About(x)
Blown Bubbles(x)
Made A Bonfire On The Beach( )
Crashed A Party(x )
Have Traveled More Than 5 Days With A Car Full Of People()
Gone Rollerskating / Blading(x)
Had A Wish Come True( x)
Been Humped By A Monkey()
Worn Pearls(x)
Jumped Off A Bridge(x)
Screamed "Penis" In Class ()
Swam With Dolphins()
Got Your Tongue Stuck To A Pole / Freezer / Ice Cube( x)
Kissed A Fish()
Worn The Opposite Sex's Clothes(x)
Sat On A Roof Top(x)
Screamed At The Top Of Your Lungs(x)
Done / Attempted A One-Handed Cartwheel(x)
Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours(x)
Stayed Up All Night(x)
Picked And Ate An Apple Right Off The Tree(x)
Climbed A Tree(x)
Had / Been In A Tree House(x )
Have been/Are scared To Watch Scary Movies Alone( )
Seen a Ghost()
Have/Had More Then 30 Pairs Of Shoes or Flip Flops(x )
Gone streaking(x)
Been to/Visited Someone At Jail( )
Played Chicken(x)
Been Pushed Into A Pool With All Your Clothes On (x)
Been Told You're Hot By A Complete Stranger(x )
Broken A Bone()
Been Easily Amused(x)
Caught A Fish(x)
Caught A Butterfly(x)
Laughed So Hard You Cried(x)
Cried So Hard You Laughed(x )
Mooned / Flashed Someone(x)
Had someone Moon / Flash You (x)
Cheated On A Test(x)
Forgotten Someone's Name(x)
Slept Naked(x)
French braided someones hair(x)
Gone Skinny Dippin (x)
Been Kicked Out Of Your House()
Rode A Roller Coaster()
Went Scuba-Diving / Snorkeling()
Had A Cavity (x)
Been Used(x)
Fell Going Up The Stairs( x)
Licked A Cat( )
Been shot at with a real gun()
Had sex in a field/garden( )
Flattened someone’s tires()
Drove in a car until the gas light came on(x)

My final total is 95. What's yours?

Friday, April 6, 2007

Friday already!

I thought Anne was going to pop in this weeks's installment since she's the keeper of the story file from last week. I know she's been uber busy this week so I offer up an art interlude based on our Samhain short story Blood Brothers For those of you not familar with the story here's a blurb:

In a world where the nights are darker and the passions run deeper, two young men go from friends to something more when a dangerous stranger appears on their doorstep.

In feudal Japan, war and famine tear through the countryside, and demons lurk in the darkness. Two young men struggle together on the outskirts of a ravaged village: the strong yet kind Liu Sakurai and his beloved gentle hearted Kiyoshi. And as their friendship endures the endless hardships, their bond grows into something more.

When the summer night brings a mysterious stranger to their door, the most dangerous desires of their dreams and nightmares are awakened. Blood now binds Kiyoshi and Sakurai together where once love did, but can this tie last an eternity?

Anne, artist extraordinare that she is, has put together a doujinshi (a short comic book) based on Blood Brothers. I've seen the basic pencil sketches and below is the first peek at the finished product. And Damn it looks like it came off the shelf with the pro manga! *Bows to Anne*
The doujinshi will be a freebie posted first to our Yahoogroup members.

So pop on over and sign up if you feel so inclined or check back here or on our website or LiveJournal for updates on availability.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Thursday 13

Well, I thought I'd try Thursday 13 here. I'm going to list 13 m/m stories I've read and enjoyed. This is certainly not an exhaustive list—there's a lot of good gay romances out there.

1. Jumping the Fence Stephanie Vaughn
2. Willow Bend Ally Blue
3. Without Reservations JL Langley
4. Hot Sauce Scott Pomfret and Scott Whittier
5. Hot Target Suzanne Brockmann (okay, m/m relationship is secondary and not, at least in this book, HEA)
6. Swordspoint Ellen Kushner (marketed as fantasy)
7. Cagebird Karin Lowachee (okay, really more science fiction than romance and very gritty)
8. Easy Ally Blue
9. With Love JL Langley
10. Crossing the Line Stephanie Vaughn
11. A Year and a Day Willa Okati
12. Blood Brothers Anne Cain and Barbara Sheridan
13. The Letter Willa Okati

I've been crazy busy or I would be reading more. Next up are Out for Christmas by Amelia Elias and Fatal Shadows by Josh Lanyon. But I'd love some more recs. What have you read lately and loved?

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Heroes of the M/M

I've been thinking about this a lot. Well, alright, I don't lose any sleep over it, or...maybe I do. Hmm. Anyway, how do you like your heroes? Typically in a m/f relationship we read a lot about "alpha" males. The women tend to be, women, LOL. They may come in various attitudes from kick-ass-take-no-prisoners to demure and quiet. But they're still women and when it comes down to the nitty gritty, getting between the sheets, you might see a whole new side of vulnerable. Okay, so there's always the dominatrix, but that's a whole different story and perhaps they're only like that in the bedroom.

I'm writing a m/m. Both my males are ALPHA. Both my males are Alpha in Fantasmagorical. As readers of m/m would you rather see two different type men or equals? Does it matter? Does there always have to be a soft side? One man who'd rather always receive than give? Let me know your thought on the kind of relationship you like to read about in the m/m you choose. What makes you choose one story over another?
Happy Hump Day :)

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

The Dark Horse After Dark

It all started with a young man named George, this desire to write M/M. Years ago, as I struggled to write something original, I would work on my skills through writing fan fiction. While not a Trekker or X-Phile, I did hold a fascination for the shows, preferring to cross them with other fandoms. Eventually I incorporated my love of Quantum Leap into this psuedo-genre, since it made for easier crossing of the streams. In my brief fanfic career as "majhoulihan," I had Sam Beckett leaping into the 4077th, into Central Perk, and into the sound booth at KACL radio.

And then one day, for reasons still unclear, I put Dr. Beckett into the body of a pre-fame Liverpudlian. The original intent of the story was to use George to keep the band together (and to get him to quit smoking, natch), but as I shaped the story the attraction to pair him with another of the lads grew strong. By the final draft it was Sam's mission to prevent another of the Beatles from offing himself over unrequited love for the Quiet One. That story (which, sadly, has dissolved into the mists of Internet oblivion) was posted on a public fanfic forum, and from there came an invitation to join a private list for Beatlefic writers.

Oh, you should have seen the place. Brokeback Mersey. Every pairing of the Fabs you could imagine - John/Paul, Paul/George, John/George, George/Ringo, John/Stu Sutcliffe, and so forth. Oddly enough, though, I rarely saw such fiction featuring Brian Epstein, which would have made sense.

It was a comfortable place to be. I wrote short pieces of different heat levels, and participating in round robin stories. I received great feedback on my work, and as I wrote I worked to transfer the fan fiction to real fiction. Writing George in this way helped shape Brady Garriston, my hero in Truth or Dare, who seduces a young male desk clerk in his apartment building early in the story. To some extent there is still influence, as the majority of my characters are musicians.

Mind you, I don't believe the real George was homosexual, and I couldn't tell you what he would think of young female fans imaging him in these compromising positions. Considering his association with Monty Python, I'd like to think he'd have gotten a kick out of it, but as writer's block doesn't come around as much anymore I doubt I'll revisit the Fabs in this manner again. There are plenty of stories to write for characters yet to be, all of whom surfaced in my consciousness, led by the music of a brilliant musician lost to us too soon.

Monday, April 2, 2007

What Do YOU Want To Read?

Happy Monday morning. Hope everyone is having a nice beginning of the week. I’m super brain dead this morning, so I thought we could have a discussion instead of my writing a huge post today and boring everyone to tears. *g*

So, here’s the question I’m going to throw out there for you to think about… What do you, the reader want to see more of in M/M fiction?

Personally, I’d like to just see… more. I run out of reading material way too quick these days. I’d really like to see more westerns and paranormals out there too. I can’t possibly EVER get enough of those.

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Ghost Hunting and Manloveliness!

People who know me well know there are two things I am particularly fond of: the TV show Ghost Hunters (and paranormal investigation in general), and men gettin' it on. So, of course I had to put those two things together in a book. A series of books, actually. The Bay City Paranormal Investigations series, from Samhain Publishing. The second book in the series, What Hides Inside, comes out April tenth. Book one in the series, Oleander House, is available now!

Here's an excerpt from Oleander House, full of hot (though not nekkid) manlove so you'll be gagging for more when What Hides Inside hits the virtual shelves on the 10th :D



Bo stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. His face was flushed, his pupils so dilated the irises were barely visible. “Stop it, Sam,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t really want me stop, do you?” Sam planted his palms on the wall on either side of Bo’s head. A tiny corner of his brain screamed at him to quit while he was ahead, that he was letting his emotions get the better of him. But his body was on fire, his vision washed in red, and he couldn’t make himself stop. “You lied before. You do want me, even though you know it’s wrong.” He leaned forward, pressing his body against Bo’s. “Don’t you?”

A violent shudder ran through Bo’s body as Sam’s thigh shoved between his legs. For a second, Bo’s face softened as his cock hardened against Sam’s leg. Then before Sam knew what was happening, Bo pushed him away and punched him hard in the jaw.

Taken by surprise, Sam fell backward onto the floor. Bo landed on Sam’s stomach, knocking the breath out of him, and punched him again. Sam felt his lip split, felt the inside of his cheek tear on his teeth. The salty copper taste of blood flooded his mouth. He snatched a handful of Bo’s hair and yanked as hard as he could. Bo cried out, his head bent back at an awkward angle.

“Beating me up won’t make it any better, you know.” Sam turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. “You still want me.”

Bo glared down at him. “Fuck you.”


Bo snarled, clamped a hand around Sam’s wrist and twisted. Sam’s fingers opened with the sudden pain and Bo was free. Bo’s fist clenched. Quicker than thought, Sam grabbed both of Bo’s arms and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists above his head.

“Let me up, dammit!” Bo panted, writhing wildly under Sam’s weight.

“Why, so you can hit me some more?” Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fucking bastard,” Bo spat.

Sam laughed. “Go ahead and yell at me, call me names, I don’t care.” He leaned down, letting his lips just brush Bo’s. “Just keep squirming like that. I like it.”

He flicked his tongue over Bo’s mouth and ground his now-full-blown erection against the answering hardness in Bo’s jeans. Rearing up, Bo bit Sam’s bruised lip. Sam hissed in pain, his grip on Bo’s wrists loosening, and before he knew it he was on his back again, with Bo kneeling over him. He stared, more aroused than ever by the feral shine in Bo’s eyes and the blood smeared on his mouth. Feeling his gaze turn heavy, Sam smiled.

“What now, Bo? Huh? What’re you gonna do now?” Sam probed the bleeding cut on his lip with his tongue. “You gonna finish what you started?”

It was a deliberately ambiguous statement, and it worked like a charm. Bo’s lips curled into a fierce smile. He swung. Sam grabbed his wrist, deflecting the blow, then Bo’s mouth was on his, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Sam didn’t even have time to be surprised. He clenched his fists into Bo’s hair and kissed him back, rough and deep.

Fingers marked flesh, teeth bruised and drew blood, as Sam and Bo rolled on the floor, tearing at each other with mouths and hands. Sam’s ankle hit the low glass-topped table in the middle of the room with an audible crack, sending a sharp pain shooting up his leg. He barely noticed.

Bo tore Sam’s shirt off, shoved his arms over his head and bit one nipple so hard that Sam cried out. Sam hooked a leg around Bo’s back and flipped him over, pinning him between his thighs. Bo let out a needy little whimper that shot through Sam like lightning.

“God, Sam, please…” Bo whispered, eyes wide and hot and wanting, and that was all Sam could stand. He buried a hand in Bo’s tangled hair and kissed him with every ounce of his pent-up lust and frustration.

Bo didn’t even pretend to resist any longer. He gave as good as he got, his kiss rough and demanding, and it was almost too intense for Sam to take.

In the back of his mind, Sam knew he should stop what was happening before events spiraled out of control. He knew he shouldn’t let Bo’s hands wander over his body like that, not when that hungry touch eroded his control. But the need rising like lava inside him said differently. He moaned into Bo’s mouth.

Sam wormed a hand between them and squeezed Bo’s erection through his jeans. Bo rolled his hips, thrusting against Sam’s palm. His breathing was ragged, his body shaking. Sam broke the kiss, pushing up on his hands to stare down into Bo’s eyes. Bo’s cheeks were flushed, his lips red and swollen. Sam thought he’d never seen anyone so perfectly desirable in his life.

Bo let out a soft keening sound, arching his body off the floor. “Don’t stop!”


Grab your copy of Oleander House here! And tune in next Sunday for an excerpt from What Hides Inside!
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