Clare London's Blog, page 131

HAPPY SPAM BIRTHDAY TO ME...?

Thanks for all the happy birthday wishes, but I just had to post this one that appeared in my inbox this morning ...


HEY! I just saw your photos up on your page and I think youre stunningly attractive
I'm off work all weekend and am new around here so perhaps you'd like to talk with me
My windowslive messengears xxxxx@hotmail.com send me an add and message on there
instead of replying to email and ill show you my photos there as well
Thanks and look forward to speaking with you

xOxO


I laughed aloud at I think youre stunningly attractive. That's made my day, I'm still preening in front of the mirror LMAO.

Just now and then, it's nice to slip into the la-la land of the Spammer :).

♥

WELCOME TO FREE FICTION DAY - Post #1

Good morning (my time) to FREE FICTION DAY on the blog :). I've got a selection of new short stories to share with you today from different authors, plus a plethora (!) of links to free fiction already on their websites and blogs.

I set a writing prompt this month of "New Resolution", to reflect the New Year - and many thanks to those who stepped up to the authorly plate! - but I'm happy to share all and any topics.

So enjoy! It's a chance to have reading matter brought to your inbox, a "taster" of authors you may or may not have already heard of, and something to bookmark for a browse session later on.

Please thank the authors if you get a free moment, there's nothing better than hearing good news from readers. Well, good news plus chocolate, but that's another day... :).

And feel free to join in, either jotting a few words of your own, or linking us up to other good work.

Small apology in advance: All the stories will be under an LJ-cut but some blog feeds may reproduce them in total. There should be nothing shocking or offensive (and I will mark anything that's adult in content), but it may be a long stretch of text. Sorry, I don't know any way to stop that happening :(. I hope you'll still bear with us :).

***


I'll start off breaking the ice with one of mine :).
I wrote this for chrissymunder . I hope she likes it and it brings a smile to her face! Hopefully to all of you LOL.


THREE'S A CROWD by Clare London


"Don't go." My voice breaks.

Marty stands at the door, his fingers gripping the handle. His back is to me, but I can see the anger in the set of his shoulders; the misery in the way his head hangs forward. One push and he'll be outside, leaving our flat, leaving me. Leaving our handful of rooms that are overly-heated, devoid of personal ornaments, furnished with heaped cushions and mis-shapen soft fabric toys.

Our home.

He hasn't opened the door yet. There's hope. I catch my breath. "Let's talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about, is there? I know what I saw."

I bite my lip. He's always been a reasonable man before. "It was a shock for you. Of course it was."

He makes a strange choking noise. "In our bed, Ben."

I flush at the harsh edge to his voice. "It won't happen again."

Silence in reply.

"I mean it, Marty! Things can change."

He sighs and his shoulders relax a little, but he still doesn't turn around. "Don't promise what you can't deliver."

"It was only the once –"

"No, it wasn't." And this time he turns back to face me. His eyes are narrowed, his expression stern. "Last week, remember? And several times over Christmas."

I wince. "Look. A New Year's resolution. My New Year's resolution, okay? You'll be my number one. Really. Whatever you want." He's wavering. Something flickers in his eyes. Desire? I take a step towards him, I raise a hand. "You've always been the one for me, Marty. You know that."

He sucks in a slow breath and I hesitate, though my body aches to get closer.

"Ben, it's him or me."

"Huh?"

He nods, knowing I heard him perfectly clearly. "One of us has to go. You can't love both of us. Not enough."

I frown. "Of course I can. It's a completely different thing."

"It's greed, god dammit!" Marty doesn't often raise his voice. He must be really pissed off. "You just want it all. I'm meant to be your partner –"

"But you are!"

He continues as if I never cried out. "But who really rules our life? Not me. You don't listen to me. You don't run around the flat after me, caring for me, caressing me, panicking when I'm out late."

"Marty…" I reach out towards him. "I do. I will!" I remember the hot, drunken night we met, the laughs we had, the sudden spark between us, the dark, sweaty nights we've shared since. Our life together, a rollercoaster and a haven, both adventure and destination, exciting and yet perfectly comfortable. That's how it is with Marty: my friend, my lover.

His smile is a little sad. "Maybe some time apart will be good. You can decide where your priorities lie."

"Now wait a damned minute." Isn't it my turn to get angry? "Don't you think you're making just a little too much drama out of this?"

"I'm sorry?"

I take a couple more steps towards him, more assertive now. "Just a small hiccup in the daily routine, that's all, and you make a grand production out of it."

"A small hiccup?" His voice has raised quite a few notches. "If that's all you think it is –"

I continue, overriding his protest. "I have absolutely no doubt at all I can give you both the attention you need. The attention you deserve."

"And I think not."

"Crap." I'm a foot away now and I could touch his arm if I wanted. Grab it: pull him to me. "He loves you too, you know."

"What the fuck?" Marty grimaces. "Exactly what kind of ménage are you crafting in that twisted mind of yours?"

Something alerts me to a change in his mood. His eyes are warmer; his mouth hitches up at the side as if he wants to smile. I press my advantage. "Marty, we can all get along, I know we can."

He glances over my shoulder at the living room behind me. "His stuff's everywhere. He is. The mess, the smell of food, the way everything's set out to accommodate him. Here, and in the kitchen, and now…" His voice falters. "Our bedroom, as well."

"Marty," I murmur, running my hand over his wrist, tightening around it to hold him to me. "You ever think what he brings to our house? To our life?"

"I already said. Mess. Smell. Panic." But Marty's mutters are half-hearted.

"We're a team." I stroke his arm: he loves that. "We love each other in different but complementary ways. The three of us, together. Needing each other, loving each other, a family unit."

Marty's eyes are soft now, his gaze on my lips. "You talk a load of crap, you know that?"

"Uh-huh." I grin, lean forward and snatch a quick kiss. Even as I pull my mouth away I can see his tongue darting out between his lips, reaching for me in return. I tug at him gently, with unmistakable intent, back into the room, back towards our bedroom. "I'll make it work, Marty. Please. Trust me."

He glances over to the bedroom door. It's ajar, as if inviting us to return; to make up in the very best way. He sighs deeply, and I see surrender approaching over the crest of the hill. "You're a fool, Ben. I was only going to the shops. You know that?"

I nod, still grinning. "I know."

His body's leaning into me but his mind is still unsure. "You won't let him in our bed anymore?"

"Well, maybe on Sundays …"

"Not any day." Marty's voice is still sharp. "You said. A New Year's resolution."

I shrug. "Okay. Not any day."

There's a clatter from the kitchen, like a plastic lid opening then flapping down again. Marty tenses.

"I left food out for him," I whisper into his ear. "He's not coming back in here just yet. It's just you and me."

"Just you and me?"

I tug again and we stumble, starting to laugh, our feet tangling as we run over to the bedroom, like horny teenagers left alone in the family house with an hour to make the most of. Like we were, once.

The clatter comes from the kitchen again. I pause.

"Do you think we should just check on him? That ginger creature next door was looking mean when he last went out. It's late and if he's got in some kind of a fight…"

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

"He's a cat."

I glare back at him. "Family unit, remember?"

Marty rolls his eyes. "Him or me, remember?"

I flush. "Okay, Sorry. Mmmm." Marty's kisses start to warm me up. My jeans feel too tight, my dick pleasantly full, my belly spiked with little jolts of anticipated pleasure. "Can you just hold that thought?"

"What the hell?"

I pull away slightly. Half of me wants to push him into the room and on to the bed and get down and disgustingly dirty, but the other half is fretting. "I'll just get his favourite toy and turn down his blanket. In case we're asleep when he gets back in."

"Dear God." Marty sighs and leans back against the door frame to our bedroom. His jeans look too tight as well, and he's panting gently. I look at him from under my lashes, afraid to see his anger returning. But he's smiling.

"I'm your number one, eh?"

I shrug, smiling back. "Well, second's not so bad, is it?"





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow the blog month from yesterday's post .
Follow FREE FICTION DAY from the LJ tag "free fiction day".

New fiction today from: Clare London, Chrissy Munder, essayel, Charlie Cochrane, L.C. Chase, Wren Boudreau, Tinnean.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WELCOME TO FREE FICTION DAY

Good morning (my time) to FREE FICTION DAY on the blog :). I've got a selection of new short stories to share with you today from different authors, plus a plethora (!) of links to free fiction already on their websites and blogs.

I set a writing prompt this month of "New Resolution", to reflect the New Year - and many thanks to those who stepped up to the authorly plate! - but I'm happy to share all and any topics.

So enjoy! It's a chance to have reading matter brought to your inbox, a "taster" of authors you may or may not have already heard of, and something to bookmark for a browse session later on.

Please thank the authors if you get a free moment, there's nothing better than hearing good news from readers. Well, good news plus chocolate, but that's another day... :).

And feel free to join in, either jotting a few words of your own, or linking us up to other good work.

Small apology in advance: All the stories will be under an LJ-cut but some blog feeds may reproduce them in total. There should be nothing shocking or offensive (and I will mark anything that's adult in content), but it may be a long stretch of text. Sorry, I don't know any way to stop that happening :(. I hope you'll still bear with us :).

***


I'll start off breaking the ice with one of mine :).
I wrote this for chrissymunder . I hope she likes it and it brings a smile to her face! Hopefully to all of you LOL.


THREE'S A CROWD by Clare London


"Don't go." My voice breaks.

Marty stands at the door, his fingers gripping the handle. His back is to me, but I can see the anger in the set of his shoulders; the misery in the way his head hangs forward. One push and he'll be outside, leaving our flat, leaving me. Leaving our handful of rooms that are overly-heated, devoid of personal ornaments, furnished with heaped cushions and mis-shapen soft fabric toys.

Our home.

He hasn't opened the door yet. There's hope. I catch my breath. "Let's talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about, is there? I know what I saw."

I bite my lip. He's always been a reasonable man before. "It was a shock for you. Of course it was."

He makes a strange choking noise. "In our bed, Ben."

I flush at the harsh edge to his voice. "It won't happen again."

Silence in reply.

"I mean it, Marty! Things can change."

He sighs and his shoulders relax a little, but he still doesn't turn around. "Don't promise what you can't deliver."

"It was only the once –"

"No, it wasn't." And this time he turns back to face me. His eyes are narrowed, his expression stern. "Last week, remember? And several times over Christmas."

I wince. "Look. A New Year's resolution. My New Year's resolution, okay? You'll be my number one. Really. Whatever you want." He's wavering. Something flickers in his eyes. Desire? I take a step towards him, I raise a hand. "You've always been the one for me, Marty. You know that."

He sucks in a slow breath and I hesitate, though my body aches to get closer.

"Ben, it's him or me."

"Huh?"

He nods, knowing I heard him perfectly clearly. "One of us has to go. You can't love both of us. Not enough."

I frown. "Of course I can. It's a completely different thing."

"It's greed, god dammit!" Marty doesn't often raise his voice. He must be really pissed off. "You just want it all. I'm meant to be your partner –"

"But you are!"

He continues as if I never cried out. "But who really rules our life? Not me. You don't listen to me. You don't run around the flat after me, caring for me, caressing me, panicking when I'm out late."

"Marty…" I reach out towards him. "I do. I will!" I remember the hot, drunken night we met, the laughs we had, the sudden spark between us, the dark, sweaty nights we've shared since. Our life together, a rollercoaster and a haven, both adventure and destination, exciting and yet perfectly comfortable. That's how it is with Marty: my friend, my lover.

His smile is a little sad. "Maybe some time apart will be good. You can decide where your priorities lie."

"Now wait a damned minute." Isn't it my turn to get angry? "Don't you think you're making just a little too much drama out of this?"

"I'm sorry?"

I take a couple more steps towards him, more assertive now. "Just a small hiccup in the daily routine, that's all, and you make a grand production out of it."

"A small hiccup?" His voice has raised quite a few notches. "If that's all you think it is –"

I continue, overriding his protest. "I have absolutely no doubt at all I can give you both the attention you need. The attention you deserve."

"And I think not."

"Crap." I'm a foot away now and I could touch his arm if I wanted. Grab it: pull him to me. "He loves you too, you know."

"What the fuck?" Marty grimaces. "Exactly what kind of ménage are you crafting in that twisted mind of yours?"

Something alerts me to a change in his mood. His eyes are warmer; his mouth hitches up at the side as if he wants to smile. I press my advantage. "Marty, we can all get along, I know we can."

He glances over my shoulder at the living room behind me. "His stuff's everywhere. He is. The mess, the smell of food, the way everything's set out to accommodate him. Here, and in the kitchen, and now…" His voice falters. "Our bedroom, as well."

"Marty," I murmur, running my hand over his wrist, tightening around it to hold him to me. "You ever think what he brings to our house? To our life?"

"I already said. Mess. Smell. Panic." But Marty's mutters are half-hearted.

"We're a team." I stroke his arm: he loves that. "We love each other in different but complementary ways. The three of us, together. Needing each other, loving each other, a family unit."

Marty's eyes are soft now, his gaze on my lips. "You talk a load of crap, you know that?"

"Uh-huh." I grin, lean forward and snatch a quick kiss. Even as I pull my mouth away I can see his tongue darting out between his lips, reaching for me in return. I tug at him gently, with unmistakable intent, back into the room, back towards our bedroom. "I'll make it work, Marty. Please. Trust me."

He glances over to the bedroom door. It's ajar, as if inviting us to return; to make up in the very best way. He sighs deeply, and I see surrender approaching over the crest of the hill. "You're a fool, Ben. I was only going to the shops. You know that?"

I nod, still grinning. "I know."

His body's leaning into me but his mind is still unsure. "You won't let him in our bed anymore?"

"Well, maybe on Sundays …"

"Not any day." Marty's voice is still sharp. "You said. A New Year's resolution."

I shrug. "Okay. Not any day."

There's a clatter from the kitchen, like a plastic lid opening then flapping down again. Marty tenses.

"I left food out for him," I whisper into his ear. "He's not coming back in here just yet. It's just you and me."

"Just you and me?"

I tug again and we stumble, starting to laugh, our feet tangling as we run over to the bedroom, like horny teenagers left alone in the family house with an hour to make the most of. Like we were, once.

The clatter comes from the kitchen again. I pause.

"Do you think we should just check on him? That ginger creature next door was looking mean when he last went out. It's late and if he's got in some kind of a fight…"

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

"He's a cat."

I glare back at him. "Family unit, remember?"

Marty rolls his eyes. "Him or me, remember?"

I flush. "Okay, Sorry. Mmmm." Marty's kisses start to warm me up. My jeans feel too tight, my dick pleasantly full, my belly spiked with little jolts of anticipated pleasure. "Can you just hold that thought?"

"What the hell?"

I pull away slightly. Half of me wants to push him into the room and on to the bed and get down and disgustingly dirty, but the other half is fretting. "I'll just get his favourite toy and turn down his blanket. In case we're asleep when he gets back in."

"Dear God." Marty sighs and leans back against the door frame to our bedroom. His jeans look too tight as well, and he's panting gently. I look at him from under my lashes, afraid to see his anger returning. But he's smiling.

"I'm your number one, eh?"

I shrug, smiling back. "Well, second's not so bad, is it?"





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow the blog month from yesterday's post .
Follow FREE FICTION DAY from the LJ tag "free fiction day".

New fiction today from: Clare London, Chrissy Munder, essayel, Charlie Cochrane, L.C. Chase, Wren Boudreau, Tinnean.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIVE FICTION FAVOURITES!

Today is a double delight - Tracey is another guest to my blog. She's a blogger, reviewer and hostess extraordinaire at ahhhhhromance Blog and the very entertaining blog Desert Island Keepers .
Sez Clare: I'm returning the guest visiting there in March, if my canoe paddling is up to the task of getting me there...LOL.

Tracey's in a thoughtful mood, examining her favourite tropes in m/m fiction, and asking - what are yours?



My Favorite Things

I was sitting watching The Sound of Music with my kids not long ago. Right after that I went and picked up the m/m book that I was reading at the time. I couldn't get the song "My Favorite Things" out of my head (which is NOT a song you want hanging around in your head for a long time, believe me!) and I started thinking about all of my favorite things that have to do with m/m books. So for my visit today I thought I'd tell you about my top 5 favorite tropes:



1. Gay for you
Now I know that some people aren't fans of this trope but if done well I'm all over it. I think it's the thought that a man can be open minded enough to let himself fall in love with another man that I really love.







2. Ex prostitute/rent boy
This just does it for me on so many levels. I can't say that I know all the reasons but I'm definitely drawn to these types of stories. I think it's the hope that's involved in the story as well as the love I usually have for the man who is giving the rent boy a chance and not overlooking him.








3.Friends to lovers
This possibly qualifies as my favorite trope of all. There's something about those two men finally realizing that their long time friend is really the one they love. *sigh* gives me chills just to think about it. (Yes, I am a sap) They usually have a bit of an issue making the transition which makes it all the better.






4. Reunion/Ex's who find each other again after years apart
Why? Why do I like this one? I have no idea. lol You'd think – hey, it didn't work out the first time, why would you want to even open that can of worms again? But for some reason I'm drawn to these stories and end up eating them up (fyi – not the worms). Probably because they usually work out with the HEA at the end and as much as I love my angst, I love my HEA's that much more.





5. Opposites attract
Most people would think I'm talking about uber stud vs twink and that would possibly work for me, but I think I'm talking more personality opposites than anything. I can think of a couple of stories off hand where the men were so very different from each other you couldn't possibly believe that they would ever work – and yet they do.

So there you have them, my top 5 favorite m/m tropes. Tell me, what are your favorites?

Thanks to Clare for having me here today!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND JUST FOR FUN, A FICTION PROMPT CALL...!!

Like to stretch your writing fingers after Christmas' excesses? Take the prompt "A NEW RESOLUTION" and write something for the visitors this month. It can be anything from a flashfic 3 sentences to a drabble of 100 or so, or even more. Any genre, any theme, any rating, any character(s). Maybe ones you already love, maybe the chance to try on a new character for size.

I'm holding a FREE FICTION DAY on the 28th, so send me new fiction - links to your existing work also welcome! - to clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll post it all then :).

♥


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow this month with Clare - and the goodies so far:

JAN 22: Sexy or sweet, men in fiction? dontkickmycane .
JAN 23: The release of my short story THREADBARE at JMS books.
JAN 24: Where are all the star-crossed lovers? asks josephine_myles .
JAN 25: The release of the anthology WISHING ON A BLUE STAR at Dreamspinner Press.
JAN 26: The ornery muse who plagues bittermint !
JAN 27: The exotic illustrations that inspire author Cornelia Grey.

JAN 15: Favourite worldwide travel with cdn_tam .
JAN 16: 10 cautionary tales from ZA Maxfield! zamaxfield .
JAN 17: The business/pleasure balance of writing from libby_drew .
JAN 18: Why M/M? And who wants to know? from jordan_c_price .
JAN 19: What makes fiction short and sweet for jenre .
JAN 20: The pursuit of beautiful things by wrenboo .
JAN 21: Bawdy and brazen humor in the new release from Rick R. Reed.

JAN 08: A great new novel and sequel from mickieashling .
JAN 09: Fiction and beautiful illustrations from essayel .
JAN 10: Forthcoming menage release from lc_chase .
JAN 11: Fabulous mix of SF and erotic romance from Sloane Taylor and Robert Appleton.
JAN 12: Follow the bizarre photographic history of Wind in Hair Guy with egret17 .
JAN 13: When only your family understands the joke, with charliecochrane .
JAN 14: A top 10 of gay books you should read from erastes .

JAN 01: A FREE short from me, revisiting Nic and Aidan from Sparks Fly.
JAN 01: Delicious m/m icons from luscious_words .
JAN 02: Why I want to be a Bond villain! by chrissymunder .
JAN 03: The world of inspiration between 'historical' and 'contemporary' with stevie_carroll .
JAN 04: Some fascinating Swedish proverbs from 1more_sickpuppy .
JAN 05: A round-up of a great year just gone from angelasstone .
JAN 06: The countryside and history that inspires author sandra_lindsey .
JAN 07: The challenge of trying to balance edits, with diannefox and anahcrow .

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Check up on the original post and the Guest Schedule for January HERE.

Want to join in but missed the original call? Email me at clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll happily find you a space ♥

AN AUTHOR, ARTISTS AND ALCHEMY

Today's guest is author Cornelia Grey, sharing with us her forthcoming release, and some of the artists who have inspired her.

Cornelia's Bio: I'm a student, halfway through my creative writing degree (with a penchant for fine arts and the blues). Born and raised in the hills of Northern Italy, where I collected my share of poetry and narrative prizes, I'm now based in London - and I'm thoroughly enjoying the cultural melting pot that is the City.

When writing, I favour curious, surreal poems and short stories involving handsome young men seducing each other. This blog is dedicated to my male/male fiction; most of it includes erotic scenes. If we share this interest, I warmly invite you to have a look around - I hope you will find something you like.

Visit Cornelia's Blog .


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Hello, dear fellow readers & writers!


I am very fond of the 27th of January. First of all, it's my birthday - just one day before Clare's, who I warmly thank for giving me the opportunity to guest blog today :). My absolute favourite writer, Primo Levi, was freed from Auschwitz with the other survivors, and Remembrance Day is celebrated around the world. Wikipedia helpfully informs me that Mozart and Lewis Carrol were also born on this day.

Also, yesterday was the last day of exams for this semester, meaning that from today I'll be able to enjoy one full month of joyful, torrential writing before the next essay season begins.

And last year on this day I had the most brilliant birthday present: I received my first acceptance email from Dreamspinner Press. One year later, I have contracted five short stories, one article and one novella with various publishers.

My first stand-alone work, the novella The Mercenary will be released by Samhain Publishing on the 8th of March. It's probably a given, but I greatly enjoyed frolicking in this story's sandbox. I was able to indulge in my passion for post-apocalyptic settings, steampunkish details, long-haired men and conflicted relationships - what with jealousy, stubborness, hot-headedness and of course mortal peril! I have a few more story outlines set in the Mercenary's world - looks like I'm not quite ready to let go just yet :).



Blurb

Now that a monstrous London machine has stolen the clouds from the sky, Asher Connor survives by selling his mercenary skills to transport water across York's wasted moorland. Until his unit is attacked by a pack of Tamer-controlled wolves, and his ingenious mechanical arm fails.

He awakens, surprised to find he's still alive—and dependent on a charming, attractive, utterly infuriating desert-dweller. The copper-eyed, untamed Gabriel is Asher's only hope. At least until he reaches a technician who can repair his arm. Reluctant trust turns to desire in the wake of another Tamer attack, and the adrenaline rush locks them in a bond of wildfire lust.

Yet despite Gabriel's deceptively relaxed attitude, he is dangerously focused. When they get to London, Asher manages to work out only part of the reason. His lover is connected to some kind of underground movement that's got something big in the works. So big, even quick-with-a-comeback Gabriel is maddeningly tight-lipped.

When betrayal brings the plan crashing down, Asher is plunged into a battle that wasn't his to fight—and if he doesn't execute the final stage, Gabriel's blood could be on his hands.


Chapter One

Life as a mercenary was something a man could get used to.

The water tank rolled slowly on, and Asher Connor trailed behind it, sheltering his eyes against the blazing sun. The scorching wastelands of the York territory stretched into the distance, swept by dry winds that carried too much sand and dirt. Asher lowered his head and spat. At times, he believed no amount of water would be enough to wash the dust out of his throat.

It took an alarmingly short time to grow accustomed to it. He did not remember what it felt like to have the gears in his arm work smoothly, free of the stone grains which clung to the oiled junctures, sneaking in each and every fissure. Every night Asher cursed as he tried to pry the dirt from the rapidly deteriorating brass mechanism. It would not do to dismantle it in the middle of the desert. He could only hope that the painstaking cleaning would keep it functional until he set foot in a decent-sized city, where he may find a Technician.

But then again, it was part of the deal. Two water tanks, four hundred miles to go, twenty sovereigns—all in exchange for one's time, one's strength and one's gun. And, sometimes—one's limbs. The clump of brass bolted to Asher's scapula felt familiar, by now. The muscles in his back had grown stronger, and the limb had become less of a straining weight, threatening to rip his ragged flesh to shreds for good, and more of an actual, functional arm. As long as it didn't claim one's life—it was a passable existence.

Except, of course—sometimes it went wrong.

Asher was woken by screams and gunshots to find huge, claw-equipped shadows pouring out of the night. He scrambled to his feet and trained his gun at the whirling darkness, blinded by a splatter of somebody's blood landing across his face. It was fast, dirty and brutal—his comrades were screaming and Asher screamed too, trying to aim, bringing down one, two of the broad shapes of the enemies.

His gun clicked empty as he found himself staring straight in the eyeballs of a snarling gray wolf, its bloodied teeth gleaming. A golden rod poked out from behind its head. Asher cursed, throwing his gun down. He jumped, hand stretched toward the rod, as the wolf lurched forward—and all Asher could do was raise his unnatural limb to try and shelter his chest from the impact. The world shifted and tumbled and flickered out of focus, and he was barely left the time to think, What a lousy death.

Then again—it was part of the deal.



The first thought that swam through Asher's head, emerging from a pool of heavy darkness residing somewhere in his nape, was that too many things hurt. The consideration that he was seemingly still alive came floating upward a few, long seconds later; relief was later still.

Opening his eyes was, at the present moment, just beyond the realm of possibilities.

"Damn. This place is a shambles," a voice muttered, some five yards to his side. Asher did not react. Slowly, he relaxed his muscles. Pretending to be one of the corpses was always wise.

It appeared he did not succeed—the steps drew near, until the tip of a boot nudged his thigh, then kicked him square in the chest. Whatever dust and debris had accumulated in his lungs was set free, and Asher broke in a dry, ragged cough, his bronchi spasming in painful contractions. He curled on his side, grasping blindly in search of a weapon, his eyes plastered with mucus and soil. He could hear the stranger take a step back, laughing.

"Hey. It seems we have a survivor—calm down, man. I'm not interested in taking your life."

The convulsing cough finally subsided. Asher brought a hand to his face, wiping dirt from his eyelids. He hazarded a blink, then another—the shape of a slim man delineated against the sunlight. As his sight regained depth and perspective, he could see a horse standing in patient wait a few steps farther back. The man's torso and head were loosely wrapped in a ragged red cloth, protecting him from the sun. His face was hidden in faint shadow. Asher could make out the white flash of a smile.

"Congratulations. You're alive," the man said. Asher repressed a groan and promptly decided he disliked the guy. He struggled to prop himself up on one elbow, and his body did not respond quite right—something was off with his brass arm. He tried to bend it at the elbow, testing the way the mechanical hand braced on the soil. The clogs whined and clunked, moving in irregular jerks. His balance was precarious at best but his bones and muscles, though sore, appeared to be intact.

The water tanks, Asher noticed without surprise, were gone. The stranger turned his back to him and wandered off, shifting expertly through the bodies and shredded equipment that littered the ground. He paused to prod at a prone figure, then bent to retrieve something from it—Asher was quick to catch the leather flask that was thrown his way. He ripped the top off with his teeth and wasted no time in pouring the lukewarm liquid down his throat. It tasted like mud, but gods, it felt good. He downed half of it before he could pry the leather from his lips, gasping. His head felt clearer, water seeping through his body like the most expensive medicine. He raised his eyes to the stranger, who had slung across his shoulder a rifle and somebody's satchels, and was now waiting with his arms crossed, a crooked grin on his lips.

"I am headed northwest, toward Windermere," he said. "If you can get up and walk, you are free to follow me. Otherwise, all I can do for you is hand you this rifle and bid you good fortune."

Asher ogled him with carefully contained suspicion. Brown locks fell over large, copper-colored eyes, which glinted, amused in the sunlight. He wore leather vambraces and an intricate belt fastened across his abdomen. He was young, likely younger than Asher. No wise man would extend such an invitation to a stranded mercenary. His movements were smooth and sure: Asher could read in his body the elastic strength that came from nerves and reflexes rather than rough muscle mass.

Asher considered his own pained body, whose injuries and aches he was slowly and systematically cataloguing, and decided he might as well take advantage of this small favor fate had offered him.

He hauled himself to his feet. The artificial joint in his shoulder pulled viciously at his tired muscles and his head was pounding, but he could hold his balance. He tested with caution his legs, his back. He expanded his lungs, careful for telltale pains which would indicate fractured ribs. There were none. Dried blood encrusted his face, and the brass limb hung at a sinister angle. Repairing it would be hell, but it seemed no essential parts were missing, at least. Asher scanned the ground for his weapon and settled on stealing a shotgun from the clenched hand of one of his ex-comrades. He had to break the man's fingers to free it. He tipped his head in silent acknowledgement and thrust the weapon in his harness.

When he stepped forward, his foot collided with a metallic object. Asher recognized the golden device he'd seen wedged in the wolf's neck. It was the mark borne by the animals belonging to the Tamers, the moorlands people. They had learned to control the will of living creatures from a distance, through a device that, it was said, could deflect orders through the air, making them bounce from one golden receiver to another. They could control animals with it, turning them into slaves who would carry out their deeds as brainless puppets. It seemed Asher had, after all, succeeded in ripping the device off before being struck down. He had no doubt that was the reason he was still breathing.

When he raised his eyes, the stranger was staring at him with his head cocked to the side. He had seen the device. His amusement had faded to a friendly spark in his serious gaze.

"Well." His voice uncurled in slow bass volutes through the dry air. "Isn't this your lucky day."



"You're quite the character, stranger. I was not expecting promises of undying faith and devotion till your debt be repaid, but at least a thank-you. A nod. An acknowledgement of my existence. Hell, I'm beginning to wonder if you're deaf, or stupid. Maybe both…"

Asher uttered a noncommittal grunt. The man had been babbling since they'd left the ruins of the camp, his cheerful tone sinking sharp talons in Asher's throbbing head. He was not fond of chatter on his best days—at the present moment, the kid was lucky he felt way too exhausted to bother punching his mouth shut. So he kept ignoring the one-sided conversation, busy twisting the junctures of his unnatural arm to test their condition. The damage was consistent: the elbow would not bend more than forty-five degrees, the wrist was too limp. The arm would begin the movements Asher commanded it, yet would abort them midway in a convulsive jerk or else remain altogether stuck. Major damage must have occurred in the organic polymer sensorial threads that connected to Asher's nervous system. A fair price to pay in exchange for one's life, yet an utter pain in the ass nonetheless.

Asher groaned and abandoned his attempts. He could feel the stranger's eyes, careful and limpid, weighing his posture.

"My town still has a Technician. His equipment is limited, of course, and he is perhaps…slightly unorthodox, but I reckon he may be able to help with that arm of yours," the kid said. Asher could not quite repress a swell of relief. He doubted he'd be able to safely make his way back to the capital one-armed. Despite his threatening stance, there were always fools wishing to try their luck.

They progressed slowly. Asher dragged his left leg as discreetly as possible, determined not to lag behind. The stranger had dismounted and was now quietly walking beside his horse, his steps light and just a fraction too unhurried. Asher pretended not to notice, and the stranger did not remark on it. The horse proceeded meekly, seeming pleased with the slow pace. Its legs were hidden up to above the knee by thin brass plates, carefully joined so as to cover as much skin as possible without hindering the animal's movements—a precaution against the many creatures which would sprout out of the sand, attracted by movement and blood, to bite blindly at the biggest living thing in sight. Asher had seen many a man gain nasty gashes on their calves for their carelessness, and even more horses shot down because of an ignorant owner.

"My name is Gabriel," the stranger said, suddenly. When Asher glanced in his direction, the man was still staring peacefully at the sand that stretched before them and did not seem to expect a reply. "We may be able to find you a horse soon enough," he added, letting his head drop back to stare intently at the sky. "I doubt we'll be the only ones seeking shelter."

"Shelter? What are you—" Asher, despite himself, cast a quick look upward. The sun shone bright and cool—rust-colored soil particles hovered in the distance, ragged and utterly inconsistent. He shook his head, unconvinced. "How do you know it's coming?"

The stranger, apparently satisfied with his observations, tucked his hand under his red shawl and brought out a rounded metallic object, roughly the size of his palm.

"This told me." He snapped the device open. It unfolded neatly in two hemispheres, joined by arches of metallic thread. Immediately, spheres of different size and color—made of different minerals—began to slide slowly across the threads, wobbling backward and then hitching forward again, until each reached its unfathomable disposition and settled in a vibrating stasis. Asher snorted.

"Abracadabra crap," he sneered. He did not trust the bizarre inventions that the Technicians scattered in the moors generated. They were just palliative toys for the thrumming desperation of people who had lost too much, and had reverted to superstition to try and shelter their minds from the onslaught of it.

The stranger just stared at him above the quivering spheres, before carefully folding back the mechanism. "Maybe. Yet I tell you a storm will come in one hour and a half. I will head to a shelter, and I invite you to follow my lead. Of course," he added, the mischievous glint spiking up again in his eyes, "you are free to proceed alone, if you choose."

Asher squinted against the sunlight to try to stare the man down. If the grin on the other's lips was any indicator, he doubted he was very successful.

"I may as well indulge you," he said, eventually. His voice sounded a little deeper than usual. "Some rest will be welcome, in any case."

The stranger, wisely enough, did not reply. If Asher ignored the smug grin curling the man's lips, he could almost convince himself he had no reason to be pissed off. At all.



---


I'd also like to share some of my sources of inspiration. I studied fine arts for several years - and, even when I write, the graphic-oriented part of my brain takes over. In my head I can see clearly the various scenes, character, settings, complete with accurate coloring, camera angles and uber-cool slow motion effects - I sit and watch the movie unfold before I try and transcribe everything on paper.

That is also usually the way I fish my ideas from the head-pond. I love browsing art websites, and at times I will see a character - the drawing of an object - a scenery - and an idea, a plot, a scene will sprout in my brain. It's a moment of epiphany that's nothing short of exhilarating. So, I'd like to share with you the work of some artists I particularly enjoy - perhaps they will inspire you too :).


• Heise see picture If someone shares my passion for 2-d, long-haired beautiful warriors, this is the place to go. Heise creates the most amazing characters, strong and enticing and almost scaringly attractive! I'm still longing after the handsome samurai on page two...

• Jungshan fulfills my (not so) secret passion for Japanese ink drawings and samurai. His original mix of traditional and digital media gives life to some striking portraits I'd die to see acting in a wonderful, aptly dramatic story.

• Ralph Lacoste conjures up the most breathaking sceneries in his beautifully detailed art. Desertic landscapes, urban fantasy metropolis, epic underground constructions...

• Nuriko-kun instead is a real alchemist of emotions. Her art portrays strong, dramatic moments - battles, confessions, tears, blood, for single characters or couples. I am always left endlessly intrigued, wondering what exactly is going on, what words are being said, how much is at stake.

&bull the Steampunk Artists group is an endless source of amazing, brass-polished, leather-bounded steampunk awesomeness. From outfits to artifacts, from sceneries to jewellery, just the right place to get in a very steampunk frame of mind!


And that's all - thank you for reading this far :). And again, thank you very much to Clare for this lovely opportunity!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND JUST FOR FUN, A FICTION PROMPT CALL...!!

Like to stretch your writing fingers after Christmas' excesses? Take the prompt "A NEW RESOLUTION" and write something for the visitors this month. It can be anything from a flashfic 3 sentences to a drabble of 100 or so, or even more. Any genre, any theme, any rating, any character(s). Maybe ones you already love, maybe the chance to try on a new character for size.

I'm holding a FREE FICTION DAY on the 28th, so send me new fiction - links to your existing work also welcome! - to clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll post it all then :).

♥


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow this month with Clare - and the goodies so far:

JAN 22: Sexy or sweet, men in fiction? dontkickmycane .
JAN 23: The release of my short story THREADBARE at JMS books.
JAN 24: Where are all the star-crossed lovers? asks josephine_myles .
JAN 25: The release of the anthology WISHING ON A BLUE STAR at Dreamspinner Press.
JAN 26: The ornery muse who plagues bittermint !

JAN 15: Favourite worldwide travel with cdn_tam .
JAN 16: 10 cautionary tales from ZA Maxfield! zamaxfield .
JAN 17: The business/pleasure balance of writing from libby_drew .
JAN 18: Why M/M? And who wants to know? from jordan_c_price .
JAN 19: What makes fiction short and sweet for jenre .
JAN 20: The pursuit of beautiful things by wrenboo .
JAN 21: Bawdy and brazen humor in the new release from Rick R. Reed.

JAN 08: A great new novel and sequel from mickieashling .
JAN 09: Fiction and beautiful illustrations from essayel .
JAN 10: Forthcoming menage release from lc_chase .
JAN 11: Fabulous mix of SF and erotic romance from Sloane Taylor and Robert Appleton.
JAN 12: Follow the bizarre photographic history of Wind in Hair Guy with egret17 .
JAN 13: When only your family understands the joke, with charliecochrane .
JAN 14: A top 10 of gay books you should read from erastes .

JAN 01: A FREE short from me, revisiting Nic and Aidan from Sparks Fly.
JAN 01: Delicious m/m icons from luscious_words .
JAN 02: Why I want to be a Bond villain! by chrissymunder .
JAN 03: The world of inspiration between 'historical' and 'contemporary' with stevie_carroll .
JAN 04: Some fascinating Swedish proverbs from 1more_sickpuppy .
JAN 05: A round-up of a great year just gone from angelasstone .
JAN 06: The countryside and history that inspires author sandra_lindsey .
JAN 07: The challenge of trying to balance edits, with diannefox and anahcrow .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check up on the original post and the Guest Schedule for January HERE.

Want to join in but missed the original call? Email me at clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll happily find you a space ♥

THE ORNERY MUSE!

Today's guest is the author Cat Grant, confessing to us how her writing muse has led her astray in all kinds of ways!

About Cat

I've been writing off and on ever since I was old enough to hold a pencil. I still remember my very first 'published' story, a Jonny Quest adventure I penned in sixth grade. My teacher liked it so much, she had one of the other students illustrate it. That other student went on to become a Hollywood horror-film director.

I've poked around in many different genres. I've written fan fiction for a number of different TV shows, tried my hand at horror and fantasy, but in the end I came back to what I enjoy most - writing about the intimate relationships between men and women, and how love doesn't always happen the way we expect.

Back in 2004, when I became unable to work outside my home, my incredibly supportive husband suggested that I turn this setback into an opportunity, and pursue my dream of becoming a published author. Several years - and untold buckets of sweat later - that dream's finally coming to fruition.

Visit Cat at her website .




***

The Things I Swore I'd Never Write…

I need to stop making promises to myself – at least, about my writing. Because every single thing I told myself I'd never write about… I've ended up writing about!


First it was kids. I'm childless by choice myself. Never felt the maternal instinct, and then I got married too old (luckily!) for the whole childbearing thing to be an issue. I stopped reading category romances back in the 90s when it seemed you couldn't open a book without finding another bawling brat in it. I told myself then and there, "If I ever get published, I will never write a book with a baby in it!"

Then in 2009, I wrote my last Courtland Chronicles book, which not only has a baby in it, but a ten-year-old as well!


So I ate some crow, and vowed that was the first and last time I'd ever break one of my rules – which, at the time, included never writing about hookers or drag queens. They're all so cliché, I told myself. Everyone else is writing them, which means there's twice a much pressure to put a new spin on the idea. And in my opinion, if you can't say something new about an old idea, don't bother. There's enough hackneyed, derivative stuff out there already.

So, a little over a year later, guess what I was writing? A hooker book and a drag queen book, back to back!


At that point I threw up my hands and finally admitted that I am not in control of my muse at ALL. I don't choose the stories, they choose me. Once I get a character's voice in my head – the way I did with my hooker-hero Cameron and his drag queen best friend Mike – it's best for me to just stand back and let them take over.


If this sounds like an undisciplined way of working… well, perhaps it is. But I've learned that trying to force characters to do what I think they should do only results in writer's block. When I sit down and the words come so fast, I feel more like a transcriber than an author, that's when I know I'm onto something. And both The First Real Thing (my hooker book) and Appearing Nightly (my drag queen romance) came to me like that. Cameron's and Mike's voices echoed in my head with such amazing clarity, I stumbled all over myself trying to get their words out.

And we've not heard the last of them. Cameron's partner Trevor has a young son whose story's now percolating at the back of my mind. I'm planning to get to him once I finish researching and writing my Don't Ask Don't Tell book. Unless, of course, my ornery muse grabs me by the lapels and scoffs, "Plans? I don't respect your stinkin' plans!"

There's always that possibility. :)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND JUST FOR FUN, A FICTION PROMPT CALL...!!

Like to stretch your writing fingers after Christmas' excesses? Take the prompt "A NEW RESOLUTION" and write something for the visitors this month. It can be anything from a flashfic 3 sentences to a drabble of 100 or so, or even more. Any genre, any theme, any rating, any character(s). Maybe ones you already love, maybe the chance to try on a new character for size.

I'm holding a FREE FICTION DAY on the 28th, so send me new fiction - links to your existing work also welcome! - to clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll post it all then :).

♥


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow this month with Clare - and the goodies so far:

JAN 22: Sexy or sweet, men in fiction? dontkickmycane .
JAN 23: The release of my short story THREADBARE at JMS books.
JAN 24: Where are all the star-crossed lovers? asks josephine_myles .
JAN 25: The release of the anthology WISHING ON A BLUE STAR at Dreamspinner Press.

JAN 15: Favourite worldwide travel with cdn_tam .
JAN 16: 10 cautionary tales from ZA Maxfield! zamaxfield .
JAN 17: The business/pleasure balance of writing from libby_drew .
JAN 18: Why M/M? And who wants to know? from jordan_c_price .
JAN 19: What makes fiction short and sweet for jenre .
JAN 20: The pursuit of beautiful things by wrenboo .
JAN 21: Bawdy and brazen humor in the new release from Rick R. Reed.

JAN 08: A great new novel and sequel from mickieashling .
JAN 09: Fiction and beautiful illustrations from essayel .
JAN 10: Forthcoming menage release from lc_chase .
JAN 11: Fabulous mix of SF and erotic romance from Sloane Taylor and Robert Appleton.
JAN 12: Follow the bizarre photographic history of Wind in Hair Guy with egret17 .
JAN 13: When only your family understands the joke, with charliecochrane .
JAN 14: A top 10 of gay books you should read from erastes .

JAN 01: A FREE short from me, revisiting Nic and Aidan from Sparks Fly.
JAN 01: Delicious m/m icons from luscious_words .
JAN 02: Why I want to be a Bond villain! by chrissymunder .
JAN 03: The world of inspiration between 'historical' and 'contemporary' with stevie_carroll .
JAN 04: Some fascinating Swedish proverbs from 1more_sickpuppy .
JAN 05: A round-up of a great year just gone from angelasstone .
JAN 06: The countryside and history that inspires author sandra_lindsey .
JAN 07: The challenge of trying to balance edits, with diannefox and anahcrow .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check up on the original post and the Guest Schedule for January HERE.

Want to join in but missed the original call? Email me at clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll happily find you a space ♥

RELEASE OF WISHING ON A BLUE STAR

Released today: Wishing on a Blue Star

Find it HERE at Dreamspinner Press.

Paperback $7, ebook FREE

A Special Project by Dreamspinner Press & ManLoveRomance Press. Edited by Kris Jacen, cover art by Catt Ford.

How much impact can someone have on your life if you've never met them face to face?

In this electronic age of E-mails, electronic publishing, and social networks, quite a lot.

Through his emails, stories and blog, author Patric Michael has touched numerous hearts, minds and lives from the start of his career and further as he now takes us along on his journey to battle cancer.

Along the way, Patric shows us a side of life that not many truly see-- how we are all a part of something larger than just ourselves, and how we are each touched by others for the betterment of all.

Now, those that have been touched by Patric and his words have joined together to give something back, to him and to us all through something he values highly – words.

In this compilation, short stories, poems, and anecdotes combined with excerpts from Patric's blog and a few entertaining, educational group posts reveal, and celebrate, the man who has touched so many hearts and minds.

This collection is a gift from all our hearts to celebrate Patric and give strength (and a little levity) to others. The price reflects this; no one is receiving royalties or payment from the sales. Use it to celebrate life, celebrate words, and possibly inspire someone who needs it.

Contributing authors: Jaime Samms, Jacqueline Lichtenberg, ZA Maxfield, C. Zampa, Lex Valentine, Patric Michael, Karenna Colcroft, Tame Adams, Victor J. Banis, Brian Holliday, Jambrea Jo Jones, Mary Calmes, Jan Irving, Jean Lorrah, Chrissy Munder, Moira McCain, Clare London, D.W. Marchwell, Taylor Lochland, Amy Lane.

And visit this post at Jessewave's blog for some more info about how the anthology came about and what it means to the authors to take part.

***


Clare: Forgive me a small personal message here?

Patric, thanks for the inspiration for this story and the kick up the virtual a*** on my writing - and my "real" life - every now and then! :) You've been a friend and confidante and supporter ever since I met you, fan-gushing over your book "Timeless". I love you and admire the way you've battled your illness, yet retained your sense of humour, your perceptive care and compassion for humankind, and always your hope. And still found time and generosity to share friendship with me. Thinking of you daily, as always.

♥

EXCERPT from my story "The Better Part":


In my final year—accompanied by much eye-rolling shock from both my Chemistry and my Geography teachers—I got an academic place at the local University. Never seen Dad look so pink and happy in his life as when I opened the offer letter. I was excited and proud and arrogantly sure I was on my way up in life.

I just had no idea how lonely it would be.

One Saturday midnight, Adam found me curled up in a shop doorway outside one of the seedier gay student clubs in the town. The rain drizzled down under my open collar, the street lights reflected in the puddles on the pavement, the occasional passing car raised spray from the gutters. It had been a long, miserable night, though I'd stopped specifically counting the hours after too many shots and plenty of blow. Adam stood there for ten silent minutes because I was initially determined not to acknowledge him and his disapproval. I stared at his shoes until my resentment and misery curdled in the pit of my stomach.

"What the fuck?" I muttered.

A young woman passing the doorway on her way home started at the sound of my voice and quickly crossed the road.

"Go home," Adam said.

"Trying," I muttered. My legs seemed to have been reworked in putty and mis-connected to my hips.

"Pick up your wallet."

I hadn't realised I'd dropped it, not that there was much in it to delight anyone else. Four pounds fifty, a discount card to the sandwich bar and a condom that was not-so-rapidly-but-relentlessly going out of date. The journey back to my flat was through a blurred, occasionally psychedelic haze. Took me four attempts to get the key in the lock, then I lost my wallet again, until I saw it on the toilet seat. I grabbed hold of it before it fell in. Then grabbed hold of the seat itself and threw up into the bowl.

Several times.

"Good God." Adam's voice sounded strangely tired.

"At least I'm not singing," I grunted, but wit escaped even me. The misery had become second-nature, a thick, heavy blanket over my heart and hope. I'd been here months, but no one had even tried to guess the truth behind my sharp humour.

"Give this up, Chas. You're better than this."

I frowned. "'m fine. Student life, 'n all. 'njoying myself."

There was a pause in the air as if Adam were considering a suitable response. Glancing around my modest little bathroom, taking it all in: the damp toilet seat, the chipped floor tiles glinting from the harsh fluorescent light over the shaving mirror; my inevitably flushed face and the crusty trail of another cheap takeaway dinner on the front of my shirt. I knew beyond a doubt that he'd seen the emptiness of both my fridge and my phone book.

I leaned back over the bowl and heaved again.

Adam sighed. "I think not."

I sighed. Bastard was right, of course.

"Find him, Chas. He's at this University too, isn't he? Call him up."

I knew who he meant. Billy Dean had got a sports scholarship to the University as well, but he was the year ahead of me. After he left school, I think we'd exchanged a couple of emails and circulated some stupid jokes at Christmas. Then nothing.

"'s over now. Schoolboy crush."

Adam's tone sharpened. "Don't be a fool. As if you don't know where he lives, what days he comes on to campus. As if you haven't always known."

I glanced up at him, my eyelashes wet. "No secrets from you, eh?"

It was a joke, though feeble, but Adam didn't smile this time. "No," he said softly.

VOTING AT LOVE ROMANCES FOR BEST OF 2010

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Well, even though it feels crass to ask for votes, I've done it before and I'll do it again right here :). Three of my books have been nominated in the Love Romances Cafe Best of 2010 Awards. I'm very proud of the books, and thrilled and honoured to have been nominated in the first place.

There are MANY categories, and I hope lots of people vote. You have until JAN 30 to vote through Dawn's blog - all the details are below. I've also included all the links for you so you can cherry-pick the categories, or just plunge right into all of them!

I've noted which categories I'm in and will be grateful for any support for mine - but there's no expectation. There are a lot of popular books and authors there. The voting is by comment on the blog rather than a more private email or poll, but you can vote anonymously, I believe. And I sincerely hope the authors won't be trawling for "who did/didn't vote for me".


Dawn's Voting Instructions for LR Café's "Best of 2010" Awards

**PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THESE RULES CAREFULLY**

VOTING BEGINS JANUARY 22ND, 2011 TO JANUARY 30TH, 2011 ONLY! No early voting will be allowed or accepted. Winners to be announced on the LR Café Loop on January 31st at Noon EST.

Voting will take place on Dawn's Reading Nook Blog. Each category will have a separate post and to vote, comment your choice in the comment area.

Link to Dawn's Reading Nook Blog is HERE .

Please be aware that whoever is in the lead is NOT the winner. The reviewers for LR&M Reviews will be casting their votes as well. Just because nominee A has %% votes and you think is the winner, until I announce on January 31st who the winner is, it is NOT a final tally. DO NOT GO OFF ANNOUNCING WINNERS. That is for me to do and I will disqualify anyone who does this before the official announcement.

You have from 6 AM EST on January 22nd to Midnight January 30th to vote (EST, USA). I will not count any votes after midnight on January 30th. So make sure you let your readers know to get their votes in early enough so it counts.

Have any questions, please let me know at dawn_roberto@yahoo.com; NOT on the loop message board please.

***

Here are the links for each category, so you can support your favourite author / publisher / book:

[image error] Best Book All Around 2010

[image error] Best GBLTQ Book 2010


[image error] Best Fantasy Book

[image error] Best Thriller/Romantic Mystery Book

All other categories, vote away! :)

Best Shapeshifter Book
Best Erotic Book
Best Series 2010
Best Vampire Book
Best Book Cover 2010
Best Historical Book
Best Publisher 2010
Best Science Fiction & Futuristic Book
Best Anthology
Best BDSM Book
Best GBLTQ Author 2010
Best Paranormal Author 2010
Best Paranormal/Urban Book
Best Contemporary Book

STAR CROSSED LOVERS

Today's guest is author Josephine Myles, another British resident, and enthusiastically so! She is running an entertaining and fond series on her blog of topical romance tropes, and today she examines one that many romance readers may view with caution :).



Bio: English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotic romance because she has a particular fondness for British slang, and claims there aren't enough m/m books out there catering to her tastes. She desperately wants to be able to paste a little row of cover artwork here, but to date has only had short stories published. She is currently working on the final draft of her first novel and getting stuck into writing a quirky little novella.

Vist Jo's website and blog to find out more.

Sez Clare: and here's a rather glorious row of covers that Jo's been involved in, looking rather fine, in my opinion...





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



When I originally picked today to blog over at Clare's it was because I wanted to do something to celebrate the release of Cosmo Jarvis' Gay Pirates (YouTube clip below) - a song I fell in love with the very first time I heard it. I didn't know what I'd write but wanted it to be in some way connected with the song, and how it's a great example of a gay romance.

Then it hit me: Sebastian and Cosmo Pirate are a perfect example of a classic romance trope: the Star Crossed Lovers. I've been making weekly blog posts poking affectionate fun at some m/m romance tropes, so here is a continuation of my Trope Tuesday , but on a Monday...

The Star Crossed Lovers

You know the "Star Crossed Lovers" when you see them: they're the ones who fall in love at first shag, the ones who would do anything for each other and are so sweet together it makes your teeth hurt. You might find yourself wondering what the rest of the plot will be if the two heroes have already confessed their undying love and you're only three chapters in. You probably won't, though, because you've read the blurb and you've seen the warning signs: our heroes may be perfect for each other, but the sadistic author is about to throw a whole load of trouble their way.



Authors are spoilt for choice when it comes to setting the world against those lovely boys. An evil, homophobic father is a frequent choice of villain, or failing that, an evil, homophobic pirate Captain. All the old heterosexual romance obstacles and barriers can be called out: differences in class, race, religion, wealth, age - you name it, if society doesn't approve of their union, it will feel like the whole world is against our plucky lovers. What's more, when the lovers are both male, there's a whole extra set of prejudices and even laws that can get in the way of their path to happiness. War is a frequent device to separate those two "Star Crossed Lovers", particularly if a civil war tests their loyalties and the two end up fighting against each other.



Yes, it will seem like the whole world is out to separate the perfect pair. Even the weather will be against them. Volcanoes will erupt, earthquakes carve up the ground between them, tidal waves carry them apart. There may be kidnappings, torture and death threats. We're not talking about a little bit of internal angst driving the conflict - fretting about their sexuality or whether people will accept them together - we're talking conflict on a biblical scale. This is not something a well-reasoned argument or even a quick bout of fisticuffs will sort out. This is two, tiny beings set against Fate and Destiny. They don't stand a chance. Handkerchiefs on standby, dear reader...



Of course, this being M/M romance, happy endings are in great demand. That's why we often end up with a rather bizarre twist of fate that somehow allows these two men to find a little desert island paradise where they can be together. The reader will cheer, but there will probably be that nagging feeling of "hmmm, that seemed a bit too easy" and they might be asked to turn a blind eye to numerous, gaping plot holes.



I think it's a shame that the "Star Crossed Lover" trope is rarely taken to it's Shakespearean conclusion, when the two end up like Romeo and, er, Julian, and pay the ultimate price for their doomed love. True tragedies tear at the heartstrings and can linger in the mind long after the final page is turned (or these days, clicked). We can imagine the "Star Crossed Lovers" together in some kind of gay heaven, like those gay pirates in the video, where they will no longer be persecuted for their love.


However, it takes a brave author to write a tragic ending these days. I wonder if some of the resistance to it is more than simply a concern about reader reaction, and perhaps a response to the longstanding trope across all mainstream media where gay relationships have always been doomed. M/M romance as a genre seems to be a reaction against the "bury your gays" trope that has held sway for so many years.



I usually end these trope posts by listing a few examples of stories I've read where I think the trope has been handled particularly well, but I need to ask for your help with this one. I'm not very brave at picking up stories with tragic endings these days, so perhaps those of you with more emotional resiliance can recommend your favourite "star crossed lovers"? Also, if you have any ideas for tropes you'd like me to look at in future posts, then do let me know - I'd be most grateful!




Movie stills from: West Side Story, Wuthering Heights, Romeo & Juliet, Brokeback Mountain, Were the World Mine.



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AND JUST FOR FUN, A FICTION PROMPT CALL...!!

Like to stretch your writing fingers after Christmas' excesses? Take the prompt "A NEW RESOLUTION" and write something for the visitors this month. It can be anything from a flashfic 3 sentences to a drabble of 100 or so, or even more. Any genre, any theme, any rating, any character(s). Maybe ones you already love, maybe the chance to try on a new character for size.

I'm holding a FREE FICTION DAY on the 28th, so send me new fiction - links to your existing work also welcome! - to clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll post it all then :).

♥


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Follow this month with Clare - and the goodies so far:

JAN 22: Sexy or sweet, men in fiction? dontkickmycane .
JAN 23: The release of my short story THREADBARE at JMS books.

JAN 15: Favourite worldwide travel with cdn_tam .
JAN 16: 10 cautionary tales from ZA Maxfield! zamaxfield .
JAN 17: The business/pleasure balance of writing from libby_drew .
JAN 18: Why M/M? And who wants to know? from jordan_c_price .
JAN 19: What makes fiction short and sweet for jenre .
JAN 20: The pursuit of beautiful things by wrenboo .
JAN 21: Bawdy and brazen humor in the new release from Rick R. Reed.

JAN 08: A great new novel and sequel from mickieashling .
JAN 09: Fiction and beautiful illustrations from essayel .
JAN 10: Forthcoming menage release from lc_chase .
JAN 11: Fabulous mix of SF and erotic romance from Sloane Taylor and Robert Appleton.
JAN 12: Follow the bizarre photographic history of Wind in Hair Guy with egret17 .
JAN 13: When only your family understands the joke, with charliecochrane .
JAN 14: A top 10 of gay books you should read from erastes .

JAN 01: A FREE short from me, revisiting Nic and Aidan from Sparks Fly.
JAN 01: Delicious m/m icons from luscious_words .
JAN 02: Why I want to be a Bond villain! by chrissymunder .
JAN 03: The world of inspiration between 'historical' and 'contemporary' with stevie_carroll .
JAN 04: Some fascinating Swedish proverbs from 1more_sickpuppy .
JAN 05: A round-up of a great year just gone from angelasstone .
JAN 06: The countryside and history that inspires author sandra_lindsey .
JAN 07: The challenge of trying to balance edits, with diannefox and anahcrow .

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Check up on the original post and the Guest Schedule for January HERE.

Want to join in but missed the original call? Email me at clarelondon11 AT yahoo.co.uk and I'll happily find you a space ♥

NEW RELEASE - THREADBARE

THREADBARE, my paranormal historical short story, is released today :).



Buy it in ebook at JMS Books.

I'm very fond of this story and hope that readers like it in its new home. I released it a couple of years ago in Masquerade, an anthology of four of my fantasy stories. After the anthology finished its contract, I was thrilled that JMS Books accepted Threadbare for re-issue. And also another story from the anthology, Precious Possession, which will be released in March.

The idea for Threadbare came to me after watching a documentary about the Victorian textile industry in England. Then followed some research about mill workers and quality fabrics, especially silk. And then the characters, the modest, naive businessman Edward and the astonishingly beautiful but chillingly unusual Mori... and the story was born.

It's not traditional happy ever after, but a heady mix of love and passion and need. And maybe that touch of angst that we like sometimes in our reading. Or at least, I hope some people do! :)

It's in every darned format you could ever want, and it's at a special reduced price for a limited time!

I'm offering a free downlaod of this to one of the commenters on the Birthday Blog entries this month - so keep following :).

BLURB: When Edward inherits the family textile mill from his deceased parents, he knows where his duty lies. As a young Victorian gentleman, he devotes himself to the family business and doing right by his customers and employees. What concern is it that he surrenders his own artistic ambitions and romantic passions?

But a hideous accident at the mill one day brings him into close contact with Mori, one of his most productive workers, a beautiful yet seemingly delicate and vulnerable young man. Edward takes Mori under his protection, bringing him back to his house. At last, Edward has found a friend and companion. His fascination for Mori grows swiftly into love, and he's drawn out of his quiet introspection into a world of delight and passion.

Yet Mori has a private task that both baffles and concerns Edward: the completion of a stunningly beautiful, abstract tapestry. Edward doesn't understand its significance, Mori's devotion to it, or Mori's strange behaviour when Edward tries to part the man from his mission. Mori loves him in return, he's sure – but can that ever be enough? As Edward is tangled more deeply and irretrievably into the web of Mori's love and mystery, what bittersweet price might he have to pay?

Note: this was previously included in my anthology "Masquerade", which is no longer available.

EXCERPT:


At midnight, I woke suddenly to find my guest out of bed and in my own room. There was only a single candle alight on my bedside table, sweeping large and mysterious shadows around anything that moved. Mori stood at the foot of my bed, barefoot and with the hem of my ridiculously large shirt hanging down below his hips, clutching his tapestry against his chest. I had brought it to my room to examine it further before I retired for the night. Did he think I'd intended to steal it from him?

I sat up in bed slowly, my heart thudding hard with the shock, but I was wary of scaring him in return. "It's safe with me," I said. "Go back to your bed, Mori."

But he didn't move away. He no longer seemed like a nervous, skittish animal. He stood calmly and gazed back at me. "I want to come to your bed," he said, softly. "I want to be safe with you, too."

I didn't know what to do. Is that so shameful, considering my more advanced age and my presumed wisdom? But I couldn't answer him; couldn't move either to encourage or dismiss him. Instead, I watched him lift the coverlet and slip into bed beside me, and I thought I'd cease breathing from the excitement and the fear. He pressed against me as if to meld our bodies together, and I could feel his heart beating under his narrow ribcage. His hand ran down my back and I arched against it. He kissed gently at my jaw, his lips very moist and sticky with his warm, eager breath.

"Mori..." I gasped. "You don't have to."

"I do," he sighed back. "It will make you happy. And it will make me happy."

He'd been obedient and grateful since I brought him home, and for a horrifying moment I thought he might be offering this purely as an obligatory part of his employment. If I were honest, I knew there were plenty of other factory owners who used their employees in such ways, both male and female, sometimes at a shockingly young age. But Mori was old enough to understand this, and I'd also given him the chance to refuse without giving me offence. Hadn't I? He seemed genuine in his desire to be beside me.

He knelt up, his hands stroking underneath my nightshirt, lifting it up over my head. I undressed him in the same way, though my hands were trembling. His eyes glinted in the shadowy dark, gazing at me. His body was smooth and slim, and his skin almost translucent. He was astonishingly beautiful. He kissed my shoulder and he whispered against me, and when he nudged my knees apart with gentle hands and dipped his head down, I felt the wet trail of his saliva along my inner thigh.

I held my breath, hardly daring to hope, and yet so very confused as to what I was hoping for.

His lips slid down over my half-erect cock, taking me into his mouth, hesitantly at first and then more boldly. He licked me, savouring me, and all I could do was listen helplessly to the soft, sucking sounds that came from between my paralysed legs. I felt myself swell in his mouth; felt heat in my groin that consumed me. When I came, I cried out shamelessly, for I'd never known anything like it. I think I gripped his hair too tightly, but he didn't protest. For several long, delicious moments he continued to lick at me, drinking me, caressing me. It was as if he cleaned me of the astonishing burst of hot, thick seed that had been brewing inside me for far too long.

And when he lifted his young head up to mine again, I saw his lips glistening and the pleasure in his half-lidded, smiling eyes.