Jaime Samms's Blog: Stories Between Men, page 12

The Opposite of Head Hopping

I call it that because the following little gem is pretty much an example of everyone crowding into one head. Mine. I found it while clearing out the folder containing all the detritus  snapshots, cuts, crit and copies of my latest submitted MS. Now that it is officially off on it’s first foray out into the wide world of publishing and gazing all hopeful-eyed at it’s first acquiring editor, as I do with all my stories, I went in to clean up it’s old room on my hard drive.

You would not believe some of the stuff I found in there  This MS has some…interesting shit stashed away in the depths of it’s overflowing file folder. And I’m not talking crumb-filled empty pizza boxes or baggies of the good stuff, either. I’m talking about some strange-ass shit that came out of my brain while I was in the throws of OMG-I-can’t-write-this-story-what-the-hell-was-I-thinking.

So, how about a conversation between what appears to be me and Stanley, one of the four main characters in the book (he’s a music agent who has handled some really big-name country and western mega stars, including his ex-wife’s career, and his best friend’s career. I wanted to know what was in his head, I guess, because he did go through that really awkward teen-age stage where he wouldn’t open his mouth to say boo to me other than to tell me he was bored or that he wanted the car keys to abscond from the story entirely)

M: First song you remember you couldn’t get enough of?

S: The highwaymen. No. Pancho and Lefty, when I was bout nine. Wasn’t till I was more like fifteen, I knew those two were doing the nasty.

M: So, you’re a fan of Old School? Willie Nelson and Kris?

S: Yea. Mostly because Vance and I, we grew up on that shit.

M: You and Vance.

S: Don’t.

M: why?

S: I thought we were here to talk about music.

M: I suppose we can talk about music, then. When did you start playing?

S: *big sigh* Let’s see….maybe…around nine or ten? Vance was already onto his second guitar. I played along on his castoff. He taught me my first chords.

M: He must have taught you a lot of things.

S: *shrugs* sure.

*Pauase*

Me: “Sure”? That’s it?

S: Music, remember?

M: Right. Sure. Okay…did you ever play in a band?

S: Well yeah. All through high school. I played guitar or bass. We had a girl drummer, and this skinny little mouse of a kid on keyboards. Kerry. He plays for *big famous band* now. Vance was out front, of course.

M: Of course. Did you get Kerry his gig, too?

S: Nah. He was shy, but wicked talented. Plus, he always had his shit together, you know? He didn’t need me. In fact, he pointed me in the direction of Vance’s first band members. Introduced us after he left high school to tour. We were in senior year when I started booking us real gigs. Ones that actually paid for themselves and left a bit of cash in our pockets, besides.

M: So Vance was your first.

S: *glares*

M: First client. He was the first artist you managed.

S: Yeah. I was dating Sherie by then.

M: Sherie. She’s one half of Sky Daughters.

S: Yes, she is.

M: With Nancy Tompson.

S: *frowning* Yes.

M: They’re good. I like their sound. Ballsy, for a couple of chicks. Even more so for a chick couple. How did that happen?

S: Geez, you’re a bitch.

M: Yes. Answer the question.

S: It isn’t a secret. Sherie was good on her own, but too mellow for real mass appeal. She needed a brighter voice to counter hers, and someone to be the front man. But she didn’t get along with any of the guys we auditioned. Or, probably more like she intimidated the hell out of most of them. She’s like that.

M: But not you

S: *grinning* No. Not me. I called her on her brooding crap fests. She didn’t pull that with me for long. When I finally got her to smile…*trails off*

M: Gonner, were you?

S: Yeah. Guess I was. Even quit Vance for a while.

Me: *raised eyebrows*

S: Vance’s band, Quit the band. I quit Vance’s band. Still found them gigs, but I was pretty into her, there for a year or two.

M: Until you found Nancy.

S: *deep sigh* No. Even after I found Nancy. I was still into her. She was just more into Nance than me.

M: That still hurts.

S: Will you get out of my head!

M: Doing my job, here, buddy. If you don’t tell me what’s going on with you, I cannot make this happen, and I’m going to have to make shit up. And believe me, I can probably make up way worse than what actually ever happened to you.

S: Well, maybe you’ll have to, because nothing is going on with me.

M: You keep letting Vance fuck you silly. Why is that?

S: I thought we were not going to talk about him.

M: I lied.

S: I didn’t. You wanted to know about my career.

M: Your career is boring-ass shit. You manage bands. You make stars. I get all that. Big wow. You fuck your best friend regularly, even though you *claim* there is no relationship there, and you get horny like a sixteen-yr-old virgin every time you hear Damian’s voice. *That* is my story, and I want it.

S: You’re like the worst paparattzzi ever!

M: You going to smash my camera and break my nose? Or are you going to tell me what I want to know?

S: *…*

So, technically, he never did come clean about why he let his best friend have his way with him so often, but he did, eventually, give in to his crush on the goth rocker boy, Damian, and the rest, as they say, is history. So now all we have to do is fix up the old room, dust out the cobwebs and move the next story in. Right now, I have Skate and Denny from Rainbow Alley and a new singer, Coby Birmingham vying for the good room. Not sure who’s gonna come out on top, though Coby is slated to move out by the middle of next month, so looks like I have my work cut out for me. Wish me luck!

 

Elisa Rolle Reviews Party!!!!!

It’s time for one of the biggest book giveaways I’ve ever seen. Elisa Rolle Reviews is celebrating her book review blog’s birthday and the close of her Rainbow Awards event this year by giving away a ton of books donated by their authors. Here are the rules:

(I know they seem long, but I just went through the steps, to see how difficult it was, and it took me less than five minutes.)

So another year is gone, and my Journal is now 6 years old Since end of November is also really near the time when the Rainbow Awards will wrap up nicely (on December 8th) this year I want to have a joint party! So I asked to many of the authors in this year contest to be generous and donate a book or two… and the answer was overwhelming: 243 among print and ebooks!

But this time you have to “earn” your prize and so there is a “little” treasure hunt: nothing complicated but you need to complete a chain made of Title-Word-Definition-Cover-Number. How? I will try to explain LOL

We have 243 book titles, you can find them here:

The Books: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1805679.html (mirrored here if you don’t have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359348.html)

from each title I extracted a word, but be careful, same word can match more title, BUT there is an unique matching (example, if I have two titles, Love Story and Story of Me, “story” match both title, but probably, from the first title I took “Love” and from the second I took “Story”. Your job to discover the right matching ). You can find the words here:

The Words: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1805826.html (mirrored here if you don’t have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359509.html)

to each word corresponds a definition. The definition refers to single word (even if the word is plural) or not conjugated verb (even if the word is a conjugated verb). You can find the definitions here:

The Definitions: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1806109.html (mirrored here if you don’t have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359969.html)

Once you have the matching Book-Word-Definition, you need to go and search for the Cover here:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.446587205375367.103212.100000722741394&type=1&l=1a717d4880

view the right cover, on the comment section there is a comment by me (Elisa Reviews) with a link to a post on LJ (Rainbow Awards: Current Submissions). Open the link and see what number was assigned to that book in that post.

Comment on THIS post (http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1806591.html mirrored here if you don’t have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3360138.html), sending me: Book Title-Word-Definition-Number. You can pick one book per day, if tomorrow there will be still available book, I will assign them. So you can send me more matching but first in-first out, you will win the first right matching still available book.

Exception, for the Book marked as New there is no Cover/Number, so once you have the matching Book Title-Word-Definition, you can leave the comment.

And now, lets the party start! Enjoy and good luck with your hunt!

__._,_.___

Free!!!!! Angel Requiem

You’ve got one hour! http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1952

Go! Download! Won’t cost you a penny, but it might addict you to Angels….This is the first book in the Wings of Faith collection, about Angels, Demons, and the life-cycles of the immortals.

Happy reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friend Release: Stamp of Fate by Nessa Warin

Nessa Warin is up next with her new release, Stamp of Fate. I have to say, I love this cover, like woah. Plus. Greek Gods. How can that be wrong? Right?

Sadly, i don’t have an excerpt for you for this one, but if you go to the buy page on Dreamspinner’s website, you’ll find on there, and it was enough to make me buy the book. Just sayin’

Buy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/stor...

 Blurb:  A dead body is never a welcome sight, but it’s especially troublesome when Tadd Leventis and Declan Anagnos return home to find one in their foyer. Most people know the dead woman as a curator at the local museum, but Tadd and Declan recognize her as someone from their distant past—Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare. To Tadd and Declan, it’s more than a murder. It’s a threat to the mortal lives they’ve worked so hard to build—and a wakeup call that their immortal lives are in danger too.

At Zeus’s request, they once again don the mantles of Ares and Hermes, but when they start investigating their fellow Olympians, Tadd and Declan discover things are far more complicated than they seem. As the body count rises, tracking the killer becomes more dangerous, and the investigation starts to strain their relationship. Can they patch things up in time to catch the killer, or will the killer catch them first?

Friend Release: Bound: Forget Me Not by Helen Pattskyn

First off, I want to thank Jaime for having me today!

I’m thrilled you could stop by, and I feel I must apologize for the late posting of this. I’ve been under the weather, so I’m behind on everything!

I’m out on the Internet this month promoting my new book Bound: Forget Me Knot, a very kinky little romance about two guys who meet at a science fiction convention. Jason Kennley is a sweet, geeky kind of kid, with an interest in BDSM—but even he doesn’t know how deep his interest runs until he gets “roped into” helping leather booth owner Henry Durand in a bondage demo. I got the idea for these two characters while I was sitting in a science fiction convention dealers’ room watching the people around me, and started writing it as soon as I got home. But within a couple of thousand words something interesting happened. I realized I wasn’t telling Jason and Henry’s story, I was just telling Jason’s story. The entire novel is told exclusively from Jason’s POV—which is unusual for me. In my fanfiction, I was something of a head-hopper (at least where the main characters were concerned) and my first novel flip flops pretty steadily between the two main characters’ heads throughout.

But sometimes you just have to let the story write itself…

Now that Bound is out I thought it would be fun to go back and re-write a few of the scenes from Henry’s POV… here’s the opening scene as Henry remembers it…

 

Chapter One

Henry frowned when he saw the kid standing smack in the middle of his setup. So far the weekend was not going at all according to plan. He snorted; he was sure David would say that was because he planned too much. Still, even David would have to agree that Derrik getting a migraine halfway here was…. He sighed. It wasn’t Derrik’s fault. And it wasn’t like Henry had never setup the booth by himself before.

Henry smiled when he saw the collar the kid was so taken by. It was one of his newer pieces, made of thick gray leather with four hand forged D-rings and a clasp that could be padlocked shut.

Not that there was anyone in Henry’s life he was even close to considering collaring. There hadn’t been in a long, long time. Life’s easier this way. Relationships, even the kind with clearly defined roles and expectations, only got muddled up in the end.

Henry considered clearing his throat to get the kid’s attention, but instead said, “Nice choice.”

The kid jumped and whirled around to face him—Henry had to bite back a chuckle. The poor kid looked like a scared rabbit. Or maybe somebody who’s gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Henry smirked. He was pretty sure this was one kid who liked to get his hand caught in the cookie jar. Besides the fishnet shirt that clearly showed of pierced nips, he wore jeans that looked painted on an a pair of gray bandanas looped through his belt. Left side. Assuming the kid knew what they meant, he was advertising that he liked to get himself tied up.

Or it’s just the eighties come to haunt me.

And suddenly he realized he wasn’t the only one staring. “See something else you like?” he asked the kid.

Crimson tinted the guy’s cheeks. “Yes. I mean no! I mean…” he floundered, dropping his gaze and looking more embarrassed than ever. “Sorry, I know you’re still setting up. I saw this and I guess I couldn’t resist.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” The statement came out before Henry had the chance to censor himself. This was his first time at a Michigan con and if he pissed off the wrong guy…but the kid didn’t look pissed off. If anything he looked…hungry. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what for, too.

Henry took the kid by the shoulders and turned him back around. “C’mon, let’s try this on for size.” He lifted the collar out of his pliant hands.

“I—”

“Jesus, boy, you got enough hair?” he snapped. “Lift that mop outta my way.”

“I… huh? Sorry, I…I should get back to work. I’m supposed to be helping with setup.”

Hoping he hadn’t totally miscalculated, Henry leaned in close. “I’m sure you can play hooky for a few more minutes.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s see what this looks like on you.”

“I… yeah… okay.”

In a gentler tone, he said, “Hair, boy.”

“Right. Sorry.” The kid obeyed at once this time, lifting the long curly black hair up off his neck. He practically moaned when Henry buckled it into place.

So he responds to a soft approach. Interesting. He laid his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “There, how’s the fit?”

“Perfect, sir.”

Sir. Henry smiled, wondering if his weekend had just taken a turn for the better. Assuming he doesn’t already belong to somebody. It was hard to imagine such a pretty little thing unattached. But damn, if he was mine, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight for a second!

The boy’s soft voice brought him up from his thoughts. “I’m sorry, sir, but I really can’t afford something like this. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

The guy was kidding, right? “Who says you’re wasting my time? ’Sides, last time I checked, looking was free.”

The saucy grin the young man shot over his shoulder caught Henry completely off guard. “I can’t actually see anything, you know.”

Jesus Christ, sugar and spice. This guy was going to keep some Dom on his toes, that was for sure. “I think I’ve got a solution for that,” he assured the boy and reached around to the table behind him for a hand mirror. “There you go. What d’you think?” Henry couldn’t help the warm feeling of pride that spread through his chest when he saw the way the kid marveled at his own reflection. “Kinda makes you look like you belong to somebody, eh, boy?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking… I erm…just…out of curiosity, how much is it?”

Henry hesitated. It was supposed to sell for three fifty. Three hundred to friends and family…but the kid looked so hopeful. So eager. And damn if he didn’t look good in that collar, too. “The hardware on there is all hand forged. I can’t go any lower than two hundred.”

“I really wish I could afford that, but I…I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to afford to school next semester.”

College kid, he should have figured. “Gotta have priorities, boy.”

The kid shot him a questioning look.

“School first,” he elaborated. “You’ll have time for stuff like this later.”

“Yeah. I guess.” But he looked positively heartbroken when Henry took the collar off his neck. He smiled anyway. “Thanks for letting me try it on…” his gaze flickered toward Henry’s name badge. He grinned when he read it.

Henry held out his hand, “Henry Durand,” he introduced himself properly.

“Jason Kennly.” The kid accepted his handshake. His grip was light, but not soft. It only served to confirm Henry’s notion that there was some spice mixed in with all that sugar. The only thing he didn’t know was which side he wanted to see more of. Which is getting a little presumptuous, he chided himself. Jason looked like he might be twenty five / twenty six—maybe. Henry was forty. What were the chances a kid as pretty as Jason wanted to hook up with some old dude at a con?

“Good to meet you, Jason,” he said anyway.

“You too. Well, I… guess I should get back before somebody realizes how long I’ve been gone. See you around the con, Sir,” he added with another puckish grin.

It sent a jolt of electricity straight to Henry’s cock. Damn. He just laughed and shook his head. “I’ll be right here, boy.” He couldn’t help the wink he shot at Jason as he added, “I might even let you model a few other things, if you like. Got a set of cuffs you’d look good in.”

Jason’s cheeks were as red as the ballroom carpeting beneath their feet as he beat a hasty retreat.

Henry chuckled softly—and then he tucked the gray collar back into one of the plastic bins under the table. If Jason still wanted it at the end of the weekend, he’d offer to set up some kind of payment plan, because after seeing the way Jason looked in that collar, Henry couldn’t imagine it on anyone else.

He didn’t want to.

And maybe that made him the world’s biggest idiot, because he didn’t know this guy from Eve’s housecat, but there was just something about the boy that tugged at his…loins. Or at least that was what Derrik would say. He’d  probably be right, too.

But what was the harm in offering a potential customer a payment plan?  Repeat business and customer loyalty were what paid the bills.

I love that we get to see another side to this story. I’ve bought the book. I can’t wait to read the whole thing.

(you can read the original version here http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3238)

Just click the little button that says “read an excerpt”)

Before I head out, when Jaime and I were talking about what I might blog about, I mentioned that I usually include a recipe in my weekly blogs and she asked if I’d share one here. This is for my grandmother’s very hearty (and very easy) chicken soup (which always causes fights in my house. My wonderful husband is a chef, and makes a very “restaurant style” chicken noodle soup. I make…well, this….)

When Helen mentioned recopies  I told her that I don’t cook. In fact, I’ve often been asked to just slowly back out of the kitchen and let someone who knows what they’re doing take over before everything goes horribly wrong…

So I’m glad she found me an easy recipe. With the way I’ve been feeling this weekend, chicken noodle soup is the perfect idea, too!

Like my grandmother, I don’t use a whole lot of exact measurements and I take a very easy going approach to most dishes. Most of the time, I use what I’ve got on hand, not a bunch of fancy ingredients.

With that in mind, you’ll need:

4-8 pieces of chicken; I prefer legs and thighs or even a whole fryer. Bone in, skin on. (This is the kind of soup you eat with a spoon AND a fork).

6-8 large carrots, “rough cut” (each carrot should end up cut into about 8-10 chunks)

1 medium/large onion cut in half (yellow or white are best, but red will do just fine)

2 or 3 cloves of garlic, cut in half

2 cartons low sodium chicken broth (I think they’re usually quart sized or there abouts)

2 Tablespoons parsley

1 Tablespoons dill (I probably use more, but I *really* love dill)

2 stalks of celery, chopped OR a half a teaspoon of celery powder OR a teaspoon of celery seed. (I don’t use stalks because I’m not crazy about celery and the rest of the head would just rot in my fridge; if you like celery, definitely opt for the celery over seeds of powder)

1 package of your favorite noodles; I prefer thick egg noodles, but whatever you like best will work just fine.

Thanks for this simple recipe, Helen!!! Even I can make this one, I think. 

Start out by browning the chicken in a skillet; this adds a little color to the meat and also gets rid of some of the fat because I drain it off (although if you really wanted to, you could just throw the chicken into the pot and let it cook).

 

Now, this is where my husband and I come to verbal blows. Grandma taught me that the best part of the chicken was in the bones, so she made soup with bone-in chicken. Hubby does NOT understand why I continue to cook it that way. I could say “tradition”, but seriously, I think it tastes better…or maybe it’s just nostalgia. *g* (He uses boneless skinless chicken breasts and cuts them up into small pieces….which is fine, but it is not what I want.)

 

For the rest of the process, put everything EXCEPT the noodles into a big pot and let it simmer, covered, for the next hour or so on very low heat. Because it’s a broth soup, it shouldn’t need too much babysitting—you could even put it into a crockpot if you had one big enough. The end result is a hearty “soup that’s a meal”. I pull out the onion and garlic before I serve it.

 

The trick to a good noodle soup is to cook the noodles separately and add them to each bowl as you serve it—otherwise you end up mushy pasta and cloudy soup.

 

If you’d like to see more of my family recipes, check out my blog—I update every Wednesday. Usually I talk about the nuts and bolts of writing or living the “creative life” (it’s not half as glamorous as it sounds!) or host guest authors. Find me on the web at helenpattskyn.com.

Friend Release: Chase the Stars by Ariel Tachna

Yes, I know, there have been a lot of these, lately, and I’m not done yet. We’ve been a busy bunch, I tell ya!!! It’s Ariel’s turn today, and I’m thrilled she’s released this book, because I’m really eager to read it, and the first book in this series, Inherit the Sky. I waited for that one, because I knew this one was coming, and well, I just like to read them back to back. I’m odd that way. But I can’t wait!!!!!!

Plus, I love this cover. Maybe its the sheep, so peaceful and all. Some day, I’m going to visit Australia.

Buy link

Blurb

Twenty-year-old Chris Simms is barely keeping his head above water. After losing his mother and his home, he struggles to provide for himself and his brother. When homophobes attack him, he thinks his life is over, but then he’s rescued by jackaroos from a nearby sheep station. He’s as stunned to be offered a job there as he is to discover both the station owner and foreman are gay.

For Chris, Lang Downs is a dream—one that only gets better when Chris realizes the jackaroo he’s crushing on, Jesse Harris, is gay and amenable to a fling. Everything goes well until Chris realizes he’s falling for Jesse a lot harder than allowed by their deal.

Jesse is a drifter who moves from station to station, never looking for anything permanent. Convinced Chris is too young and fragile for a real relationship, he sets rules to keep things casual. Watching the station owner and his foreman together makes Jesse wonder if there are benefits to settling down, but when he realizes how Chris feels about him, he panics. He and Chris will have to decide if a try for happiness is worth the risk before the end of the season tears them apart.

 

Excerpt

“Help me, please. Oh God, somebody help me!”

The shouts of the kid who half ran, half fell into the Yass Hotel drew Caine’s attention away from what should have been a quiet lunch with his lover and partner of three months.

“They’re going to kill him. Please, he’s all I have.”

“Who?” Macklin asked, rising from the table.

“These thugs.” The boy was crying now. “They said he was a poofter and they’d kill him for it.”

Macklin’s expression, never soft to begin with, hardened to stone. Caine swore Macklin’s shoulders grew broader as he approached the boy.

“Where are they?”

The boy had barely finished his answer before Macklin was out the door.

“Neil—”

“Yes, boss,” the jackaroo at the next table replied, already on his feet and following Macklin out the door before Caine finished speaking. Ian and Kyle, the other two hands who had come to Yass to help him hire new blood for Lang Downs, followed Neil without being prompted, bringing a smile to Caine’s face despite the seriousness of the situation. He still had trouble believing he had won their loyalty.

“I’m C-c-caine Neiheisel,” Caine said, approaching the boy slowly. His heart pounded in his chest so hard it felt like someone was squeezing his ribs tight, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t go with Macklin. He was useless in a fight, but that didn’t stop his body’s fight-or-flight response. He took a deep breath, shaking his hands slightly to clear the tingling from the rush of adrenaline. “You w-want to have a s-seat?”

“Shouldn’t we go help them?”

Caine shook his head. “Macklin and the others will t-t-take care of it, don’t worry. Wh-what’s your name?”

“Seth. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Macklin won’t stand for that kind of nonsense,” Caine promised, his confidence so profound that he got that sentence out without a stutter, even as upset as he was at the thought of that kind of homophobia in what constituted his own backyard and the danger it presented to Macklin and himself. “Where are you from?”

“Nowhere anymore,” Seth replied, his voice so bitter Caine wanted to pull the kid into his arms and comfort him. He remembered what it had been like to be a teenager, though, and refrained, figuring the embrace wouldn’t be welcome from a total stranger.

“What about your parents?”

“Mum died six months ago, and the no-good bastard she married kicked us out the day after the funeral,” Seth said. “It’s just Chris and me now, if that scary dude can save him.”

“That ‘scary dude’ is Macklin,” Caine said, “or Mr. Armstrong to you since you can’t be more than fourteen.”

“I’m sixteen,” Seth retorted quickly.

He was way too small and skinny to be sixteen. Not that Caine thought he was lying. It was just proof of how hard his life had been.

Caine had already decided that was going to change. His great-uncle, Michael Lang, had made a habit of taking in strays at his station, much to Caine’s good fortune. He wouldn’t have Macklin now if Uncle Michael hadn’t taken the foreman in when he was the same age as this kid. Now Caine just had to convince Seth that coming to Lang Downs would be the right choice for him and his brother. “So where are you staying?”

“We’ve got a room,” Seth said defensively.

Probably some flop in a drug house so cheap they could afford it.

“Are you using?”

“What? No!”

“Pushing?”

“Fuck no!”

That was good. Caine was all for lending a helping hand, but he would not have drugs on his land. He had too much to lose. “Good. Your brother’s clean too?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I don’t hire men with drug problems.”

“What?”

“If all you’ve got is ‘a room’ and no parents and no one but your brother, that pretty much means no future, at least from where I’m sitting. I run a sheep station north of Boorowa. I thought you might like a job.”

“You’re a Yank!”

“And you’re a brat who is about to lose the best chance to come his way,” Caine retorted. “Ask around if you don’t believe me. I’ve been here all week signing on jackaroos. I’ve got space for two more.”

They didn’t really. They’d hired the last of their crew this morning and planned to head back to Boorowa after lunch to pick up supplies and then drive back to Lang Downs tomorrow morning. Seth didn’t need to know that, though. Caine had already seen enough of the boy’s pride to know he wouldn’t take charity.

It wouldn’t be charity. Seth would work harder on Lang Downs than he had in his life. He’d earn every cent they paid him and his brother. He wouldn’t have many expenses, though, so he could put almost every penny away toward college, if he wanted, or into a savings account against the day he left Lang Downs and pursued a different path in life, and if he chose to stay, he’d have a family to replace the one he’d lost with his mother’s death.

 

Buy link

Friend Release: Mourning Heaven by Amy Lane

Yes, another friend release. Because holy hell, are there a ton of books coming out I want to read!!! This one, I am assured, has all of Amy Lane’s usual trademarks: a ghost of a chance at happiness for the heroes, a tragedy, the requirement that you bring your own shares in Kleenex and/or Xanax to the party, and, I was also assured, because I specifically asked, because I’ve read Amy’s stuff before! A satisfactorily acceptable conclusion.;)

I look forward to reading it with that sort of morbid fascination that one looks forward to…well, to reading an Amy Lane book, I guess, because it always turns out to be a singularly unique and fantastic experience.

Heroes fall.

Peter first came to the tiny backwater of Daisy, California, as a child, and he was sure of one thing: his cousin Michael would take care of him. When Michael started a friendship with the fragile, haunted Bodi Kovacs, Peter’s consolation in losing any claim to Bodi was that Michael would care for him too. But tragedy struck, and Michael ripped himself out of their world and threw away the people who loved him most.

Six years later, Michael is coming home in a box. All it took to destroy a hero was a town full of bigotry and hatred. Reclaiming him will take strength of heart that neither Peter nor Bodi had six years ago. Since Michael left, Bodi has been lost and alone. Peter can try to make Bodi his and take the role Michael should have had, but first he and Bodi have to confront the past. They will need to face Michael, the good and the bad, the beauty and the sadness, and see his memory truly for what it was and not what it could have been. It’s a simple act that may destroy them both: sifting through the flaming ruins of heaven is a sure way to annihilate a bleeding mortal heart.

And here’s the excerpt:

Telegram

Daisy, California. Population 2,726.

WHEN Peter Armbruster moved there when he was ten, it became 2,727. Children were born, old folks died, a few folks moved in. When Peter’s cousin, Michael, died in Afghanistan twelve years later, it was 2,813. Wait, no—2,812.

Because you had to count Bodi.

A month before he’d shipped out, Michael snuck his mom’s car out of the garage to help Bodi move all of his stuff from the bedroom of his old house to nobody-knew-where-at-the-time. As far as Peter knew, they went out the bedroom window, because Bodi’s mother wouldn’t have let Michael in her house right then, and Bodi himself was lucky all his shit didn’t end up on her lawn. The roar of Bodi’s Harley Davidson at two in the morning was pretty much the last anyone in Daisy knew for sure about where Bodi had gone—anyone except Peter. Peter had kept track. Bodi showed up in Arcata not much later, where he had opened a machine shop and was living in a flat above it, according to rumors. Although Peter was never sure of the identity of the occasional Daisy resident who had seen him, Peter knew that’s where he’d gone. Peter had checked those rumors out himself. He dreamed about Bodi in those six years, and always, always, he was somewhere other than Daisy, and he was happy.

The day Peter’s aunt Aileen got the news about Michael, she sat down abruptly on her front porch—not on the swinging seat behind her but on the boards. It wasn’t a collapse, per se, just a simple statement that she would take this news on her own terms, and Peter tried hard not to think bitter things such as that was how she expected the rest of the world had to live its life too: on her terms.

Peter helped her up and took the telegram from her nerveless fingers and then walked her into the house. Later, he’d start the neighborhood phone tree, wherein he’d call her best friend, who lived a mile away, and her parents—his grandparents—who lived down in Sacramento, and they would spread the word. Eventually, even Michael’s father, who lived up in Crescent City, would hear, although he didn\’t bother to show up at the funeral.

But in the meantime, it was only Peter James Armbruster and Aileen Catherine Armbruster in the silence of the house they’d shared for over eleven years. It had been that long since Peter’s mother had brought him to Daisy. He’d been ten, and his mother had been exhausted and grieving. Even if she didn’t have the means to raise him, she did have the love.

They’d heard from Ginnifer since then: she often showed up on Peter’s birthday, bearing cards and stories, and Peter had learned to love those visits—but also not to expect them. The last time she’d been there, she’d managed to hold on to a job and a boyfriend for a couple of months, and Peter could sense the relief in her, because the gypsy life she’d led hadn’t been of her choosing but more thrust upon her. Peter actually had more of a life in Daisy by then, and he hadn’t begged to go with her. He’d spent his first two years as a child pleading to leave with her. After Bodi arrived, he’d stopped begging, but just because he felt like he had chains that bound him to the wormshit of a mountain town didn’t mean that his mother’s absence hadn’t hurt.

And those chains that bound him hadn’t offered much comfort, either. After Michael had shipped out, it had mostly been just Peter and Aileen, echoing around in the big yellow two-story house that sat a block back from Zinnia Street, the main drag through Daisy.

Although it was maybe seventy-five miles from the ocean, Daisy was close enough to the foothills of Highway 120 to sit in the red dirt of the mountains. The dusty ochre-colored sunshine filtering through the blinds in the west-facing window tinted all of Peter’s thoughts and memories. That sanguine shade of light was omnipresent. It shined on the day his mother left him in Daisy, it shined on the day Bodi had left, and that light would forever bleed on the day when they found out Michael’s life had ended.

“Say it!” Aileen snapped as Peter put the kettle on the stove and, conversely, set about getting some ice in a glass. Ice water first, tea second. He had no idea why that made sense.

“Say what,” he muttered tonelessly. He knew what she was talking about, but he didn’t want to talk about it. His own mind was running a nonstop film loop of Michael, as Peter had known him. Michael had been four years older than Peter. When Peter had arrived in Daisy, Michael had been every bit as lonely living in that house as Peter had been in the six years since Michael had left. Peter had been an instant little brother for Michael. And Michael?

Michael had set Peter’s sun and his moon and his stars. He’d painted the sky black for the deep summer nights and initiated the breeze that breathed through Peter’s window into his sweltering attic room. Michael, with his dark, curly hair and his deep brown/green eyes (his father’s eyes—Aileen never let him forget it), had been everything Peter wanted to be. For Peter’s first two years in Aileen’s house, Michael had been Peter’s everything, and for the next four years, he’d been the other half of Peter’s everything.

And then he’d been gone.

“Say that I killed him,” Aileen spat now, wringing her thin, dry hands. She’d been pretty once. She had. She’d had blonde hair and a lively face, a wide smiling mouth, and sparkling blue eyes. By the time Peter had gotten there, she’d been middle-aged at thirty-four. Now she was ancient in her forties.

“A land mine killed him,” Peter said without emotion. “Just ask the DOD.”

“That’s not what you’re thinking,” Aileen snapped. She was crying. Her voice wasn’t breaking, and she wasn’t sobbing, but her eyes were red and her nose was swollen and there were tracks down the faint sheen of dust on her lean face.

“If I knew what I was thinking, Aunt Aileen, I’d tell you,” Peter said with resignation. For a moment, he watched his fingers pick at the cheap laminate on the wooden counter. He closed his eyes tight and saw Michael as he had been the morning before their entire world had fallen apart. He’d been happy that day: his face had been flushed and his hair had been tousled. Peter had been the only one to know why, but his smile—white teeth in a tanned face and green/brown eyes that crinkled in the corners, inviting people in—had been transcendent. Michael Hickham (unlike his mother, he’d kept his father’s name) had wanted the entire world to be as happy as he was.

Please note that there are internet issues beyond anyone’s control right now, and a buy link is unavailable. When it becomes available, I will let everyone know!! (Sorry, Amy!)

Friend Release: Scramble by Lex Valentine

Lex is ba-ack! We all know I’m a fan, and this new release of hers makes me think that ain’t gonna change any time soon. Her newest is an American Football story about two best friends, coming out in a challenging environment, and seeing each other through all of the things life has to throw at them, the good and the bad. Now I am also a huge fan of the whole friends to lovers trope, so this promises to be an excellent read. Of course, I will let you all know what I think once I’ve read it, but in the mean time, here’s the blurb, the pretty cover art, and a bit of a taste to whet your appetite. Sadly, we’ll have to wait until September 25 to get the book.

Blurb:

Evan McAdam has two constants in his life—football and his friendship with Reed Matthews. From the age of six, Evan’s played football alongside Reed. In his teens, he realized he was gay and loved Reed, but fear kept him from confiding his deepest emotions to his best friend. When he and Reed are drafted to the L.A. Stars, Evan decides to come out. His decision impacts Reed who’s been in the closet too. The two men struggle with secrets of unrequited love while facing the world as the first two openly gay NFL players. When injury forces Evan to retire, the love he bears Reed can no longer be hidden. But will Reed be able to reciprocate? Or will Evan lose both football and the man he’s always loved?

Excerpt:

Reed held his breath and watched the play of emotion across Evan’s face. He probably shouldn’t have been so blatant about what he needed, but he couldn’t stop himself. All he could think about was that Len lay dying and it could so easily have been him had he ever given in to Len’s whining about his use of condoms. Right now, he needed Evan to make him feel alive, to chase away the specter of death and disease. He needed to feel whole, and only Evan could give that to him.

“You’re overwrought. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Evan’s voice quivered a little, and Reed could feel the tension in his friend’s body. He could also sense an underlying current of fear in Evan’s voice although he had no idea what Evan could fear.

“Yes, I do. I want you to make love to me.”

There. He’d said it aloud. All his hopes and dreams since he was fifteen years old, laid out for Evan in words of one syllable. No mistaking them for anything except what they were, a blatant invitation for Evan to fuck him. He opened his mouth and made the invitation even more clear, the words driven by the emotion he’d held so long inside.

“I want you. I need to feel you touch me, taste me. I need to be with you. I want your arms around me, your cock inside me. I need to be with someone who cares about me. For sixteen years, it’s been you and me. Even Len and Bryce haven’t come between us. It’s always been you and me.”

Reed poked Evan’s chest with a finger when he said you and his own when he said me. Evan blinked and shook his head as if he were dazed. “I-I don’t understand. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a frown.

“It’s coming from deep inside me, Ev. Whenever something is wrong you’re there for me and vice versa, although God knows it’s usually me with problems not you,” he said with a tinge of bitterness at the life destiny had given him. “This time, I need more than just hand holding. Will you give it to me?”

He stared at the man he’d loved since they were kids. The man he’d shared everything with. The one he couldn’t imagine his life without. And he willed Evan to say yes.

A long soft breath escaped Evan, tension leaving his big body. “Yes. You know I love you. I could never say no to anything you ever asked of me.”

Reed pushed himself against Evan’s chest, his hands coming up to frame the handsome beloved face of his best friend. “Then just love me. Death is cold. I need to be warm.” He pressed his mouth to Evan’s, and a pleasure like none he’d ever experienced exploded inside him.

Evan’s lips were soft and warm, gentle in a way Reed hadn’t known men could be. He took control of the kiss, took control of Reed, his hands and his mouth leading Reed to ecstasy. Their tongues slid together, tentative in the way of new lovers but without urgency or fear, just a growing awareness and heat. Evan’s hands slipped over Reed’s shoulders and down his back, causing a slow burn in Reed’s veins.

The limo turned a corner, and they rocked, swaying with the movement of the car. Reed pulled his mouth from Evan’s, and they stared at each other, breathing hard.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” he asked as pain threatened. He needed Evan, but he could walk away if Evan didn’t want him.

The big man pushed a trembling hand through his sandy hair. “I want it,” he replied, reaching for Reed’s hand. He pulled it toward him and pressed it into his lap.

Beneath his fingers, Reed could feel the hard ridge of Evan’s erection, and his heart sang in triumph. The evidence of Evan’s desire was enough for him tonight. He didn’t need to own Evan’s heart although he yearned to.

And for those of you who would like to see a bit more of Lex’s talent in action, here is a link to the trailer. (Sorry I can’t imbed. This WordPress template apparently doesn’t play well with streaming video.)  http://youtu.be/DKf9I3q7Ei8

Friend Release: Z.A> Maxfield – Gasp!

A little bit of follow up from yesterday’s post about Z.A. Maxfield’s new release, GASP! I wanted to draw a bit more attention to it for two reasons.

1) I think it looks like a great book about a romantic lead who isn’t perfect or twenty-something, but still sounds really, really intersting, and

2) She’s holding a little party today to give copies of it away, so everyone should stop by her GoodReads group to see about picking themselves up a new book. Other authors in attendance giving stuff away: Myself, and Lex Valentine, for sure, and more besides.

GASP!’s blurb: Jeff Paxton came home from Afghanistan looking to put down roots. Instead his pregnant sister talks him into a job babysitting the volatile megastar Nigel Gasp. Nigel is stubborn, needy, and determined to be the center of attention everywhere he goes. Before long, Jeff realizes that something is bothering Gasp, and that keeping him out of trouble might be more difficult than he thought.

Nigel never planned on getting old. He simply assumed a hard drinking, hard partying lifestyle would take care of that. Now that he’s turning forty, he’s depressed and a little bit desperate. To Nigel, forty seems like a fine age to deposit his DNA and check out while he’s still on top.

The last thing Jeff needs is to fall in love with Nigel Gasp. The last thing Nigel expects is a whole new reason to live. But how can Jeff put down roots with a man who is never in the same place twice?

Love can be shocking. Gasp!

Sunday Entertainment: Sept 2, 2012

I haven’t done a Sunday Entertainment post in a long time, but I came across a few things this week I thought might be worth sharing.

First off, fellow author Rick R. Reed blogged about his friends and their beautiful wedding that he attended this weekend. I thought the sentiment was well worth sharing and he gave permission to pass his post link along, so go on and have a read about this lovely event, and Rick’s very personal feelings after having witnessed the romance.

http://rickrreedreality.blogspot.ca/2012/09/am-american-gay-wedding.html

Also, if you like Rick’s work, he’s got a recent release you might be interested in. I know I want to read it soon. It’s called Chaser, and it looks like one of Rick’s more romantic reads.

Give-away fun times over at Goodreads

My fellow (woderful and awesome) author, Z.A. Maxfield, is having a little party tomorrow and giving away copies of GASP!, he newest release. I’m going to be joining her, and it’ll be a lot of fun, so drop on by her Goodreads group and have a visit, any time tomorrow, Monday, September 3.

This book looks like it’s going to be a wonderful read. I can’t wait to pick it up!