Jaime Samms's Blog: Stories Between Men, page 9

Sunday snog and a brunch

First, the snog, because snogging is fun.

Check out Victoria Blisse’s blog post from more snogging!

I picked something from the soon-to-be-released book, Not as Easy as it Looks, about Don, Griff, and Howard, three guys trying to make life together work on Don’s farm despite the difficulties of three way communication and the financial precariousness of their farm.

I picked Don and Griff’s very first kiss, when they were just discovering all the things their childhood friendship is destined to become.

Griff’s smile, just his presence, had washed away the sick unhappiness of Howard’s departure and replaced that feeling with one of relief. Griff was back. Or maybe Griff had never left and it was only Don’s preoccupation with Howard that had made it seem that way.

Now, the sick rushed back tenfold, because Howard was just Howard. Sex was fun, but Griff was his. And Griff was the one about to leave.

A low growl issued from Griff’s chest and he turned. “You’ve got to be the densest person on the fucking planet.”

Don blinked at him. Griff never swore.

“I don’t understand.”

“Obviously.” He shook his head, tossing strands of gold and sunlight over his face and past the clear blue of his eyes, like wheat on the horizon. And that look went on forever.

Until Griff was too close to focus on and of much more immediate importance was the taste of the coffee they’d been drinking and the mint gum Griff always chewed. Eclipsing whatever was behind his eyelids—closed now because there was nothing to look at—was the feel of calloused fingers on his cheek, then his neck, and the slither of wet tongue into his mouth, past lips still parted in shock.

Griff was kissing him.

It was clumsy and wet and more real than any kiss Howard had presented him with. It was as strange as a boy stepping between him and threat and punching it in the face. And it was as ordinary as a boy climbing into the cab of his father’s truck like he belonged there.

He hadn’t even gotten his head around the fact of it before it was gone.

Griff watched him, eyes wide, fingers still lightly connected to his face.

“You… smell like horses,” Don said.

Blond brows collapsed in confusion and the blue clouded over.

“Howard never kissed me like that.”

“Holy fuck!” Griff spun and reached for the door.

Important to not: They’re teenagers in this scene. Clueless, head-over-heels-in-love pod-brained teenagers

And also, I visited Z.A. Maxfield’s blog for brunch today!

I talked a tiny bit about my Hagrid-like Magical Creatures, um, aspirations, and she entertained with Llama pronking and Disney clips. Check it out!

Posy Roberts! Don’t Drag Me Down

This last April as I sat around a table with Jaime Samms, B.G. Thomas, the Executive Director of Dreamspinner Press, and a few other authors, I was nervous. I was worried about my character Hugo Thorson in Spark, and I finally shared my concern.

I was worried that people would dismiss him outright because he performed as a drag queen. I was concerned that he wouldn’t be taken seriously or that he’d be disliked or that people would get so caught up on that tiny part of him that they wouldn’t give him a chance. I was being a chicken, and if Hugo were a real person, he would’ve told me I was treating him like shit at that moment because I had no faith in him. I was also demeaning something he loved, drag.

I had no idea at the time that I was sharing this with two authors who had already written about cross-dressers and drag queens. They let our Executive Director do the talking and she convinced me to keep Hugo just how I’d written him. Days later I read Jaime’s Lace and B.G.’s All Alone In A Sea Of Romance and saw I wasn’t the only person who had written male characters who weren’t afraid of a little lace and silk.

Spark is book one of my North Star trilogy, and I knew from the start that Hugo was going to be a drag queen. I also knew he was a very strong character who loved deeply, but love hadn’t always been so kind to him. Some of that was because of his drag act. There are a lot of stereotypes and prejudices against men who preform in drag that I learned about while doing my research.

If clothes make the man, what does that mean for a drag queen?

But Hugo wasn’t always a drag queen. When we first meet him in high school, he befriends the new kid at his job, Kevin Magnus. For all intents and purposes, Kevin is a straight guy, or so he thinks until he falls for Hugo. But they both have to remain closeted in their conservative small city. That means Hugo is very conscious of how he expresses himself, and he goes out of his way to make sure he’s not too demonstrative or too femme. At home he loosens up some, and Kevin not only notices it, but appreciates it. He likes the more relaxed Hugo.

After they go their separate ways for college, Hugo really explores his femme side and soon starts dressing up and going out to dance with a friend. That’s how his drag starts. Now that Kevin and Hugo reconnect years later, Hugo worries about how Kevin would take such news.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 18 of Spark. You can read Chapter 1 here.

How would he tell something like that to Kevin? Hugo in drag was so far from the tightly held, reserved kid Kevin knew and liked in Austin. Hugo knew he was jumping the gun, thinking about sharing his deepest secrets with Kevin already, and for some reason, he didn’t want to put Kevin off, to quickly warn him away with this totally queer part of himself. Not yet. There were friends in his life who still didn’t know about this part of him, and Kevin could easily be one of those people.

He’d quit telling boyfriends about drag early in a relationship after a close-minded guy named Doug had used the information to manipulate Hugo into always bottoming, saying Hugo wasn’t man enough to top. Hugo eventually put together that Doug believed the rumor, “all queens are tops,” and that apparently freaked him out enough to feel like he had to teach Hugo a lesson. Whatever that meant. It didn’t take Hugo long to realize the relationship wasn’t worth keeping, but when he told Doug he didn’t want to see him, Doug backhanded him, telling him he was sick in the head and a fraud who had misrepresented himself. The guy obviously had some issues he was dealing with beyond his belief in a simple assumption he’d made. After that, Hugo waited until he was sure if he really liked a guy before revealing his secret, and when he finally shared, he did so out of arm’s reach.

Michael knew about Miss Cherrie because they’d been together so long. He didn’t understand why Hugo had to play dress-up and pretty much tried to ignore that Hugo even did it, leaving the apartment so he wouldn’t have to see Hugo in makeup. “If I wanted to date a woman, I wouldn’t be gay,” Michael would say, but never with any heat in his voice.

Hugo had no idea why his mind had gone there. Probably fear. Sharing how he enjoyed the art of drag was just one of those things he worried about. Somehow, he knew if he and Kevin had any chance at a future, he’d eventually have to come clean. It certainly wasn’t something he looked forward to doing, and he’d avoid it for as long as he could.

Perhaps you can understand why Hugo feels so secretive about drag. So again, if clothes make the man, what does that mean for a drag queen? I think it means those men are stronger than hell. It takes balls to go out in a public that not only shames men for being too girly or not manly enough, but to do it wearing a dress, hose, and lipstick.

I have such strong affection for Hugo’s character, and part of that is because of what he’s endured in his life because of his drag. Yet he doesn’t give it up. He finds something from it that fills his soul and makes him carry on. So what will happen when Kevin finds out about it? That’s truly one of Hugo’s greatest fears in Spark because Kevin was Hugo’s true love. He was the one who got away, and now they finally have a second chance at love.

In their small-town high school, Hugo and Kevin became closeted lovers who kept their secret even from parents. Hugo didn’t want to disappoint his terminally ill father, and Kevin’s controlling father would never tolerate a bisexual son. When college took them in different directions, they promised to reunite, but that didn’t happen for seventeen years.

By the time they meet again, Hugo has become an out-and-proud actor and director who occasionally performs in drag—a secret that has cost him in past relationships. Kevin, still closeted, has followed his father’s path and now, in the shadow of divorce, is striving to be a better father to his own children.

When Hugo and Kevin meet by chance at a party, the spark of attraction reignites, as does their genuine friendship. Rekindling a romance may mean Hugo must compromise the openness he values, but Kevin will need a patient partner as he adapts to living outside the closet. With such different lifestyles, the odds seem stacked against them, and Hugo fears that if his secret comes to light, it may drive Kevin away completely.

Posy Roberts lives in the land of 10,000 lakes (plus a few thousand more). But even with more shoreline than California, Florida, and Hawaii combined, Minnesota has snow—lots of it—and the six months of winter makes us “hearty folk,” or so the locals say. The rest of the year is heat and humidity with a little bit of cool weather we call spring and autumn, which lasts about a week.

She loves a clean house, even if she can’t keep up with her daughter’s messes, and prefers foods that are enriched with meat, noodles, and cheese, or as we call it in Minnesota, hotdish. She also loves people, even though she has to spend considerable amounts of time away from them after helping to solve their interpersonal problems at her day job.

Posy is married to a wonderful man who makes sure she eats while she documents the lives of her characters. She also has a remarkable daughter who helps her come up with character names. When she’s not writing, she enjoys karaoke, hiking, and singing spontaneously about the mundane, just to make normal seem more interesting.

 

Read more at http://posyroberts.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/posyroberts11

Twitter: https://twitter.com/PosyRoberts

Sunday Snog: From Off Stage: Right

I haven’t done this in a while, but it seemed like a good day to have a Sunday Snog.

, since I havn’t even had a chance (what with the day job and all) to talk much about this book, I wanted to take something from it to share.

I decided to pick the first kiss between Lenny and Vance, secondary characters in Off Stage: Right, because I’m working on their book now, and after weeks of editing other stuff, this will get me back in the swing of their story.

Enjoy

Once more, Len found himself staring into Vance’s eyes, losing himself in their depths and wishing he could stay lost. Vance’s touch strengthened, traveled, finger-tips sliding along his jaw until they tingled at the back of his neck. A spray of goose bumps trickled up through Lenny’s hair and down his spine and a sound, the softest, neediest moan he’d ever heard, issued from his mouth. “

I know,” Vance said, his twang rounding out the two simple words to form a bubble of understanding around them, encompassing them and protecting the moment just before their lips met.

It was like the first drop of water to his lips after years in the desert. He reached greedily for the entire ocean of experience Vance seemed willing to provide, but found himself being held back.

“Easy, darlin’.” Vance pulled back from the brief kiss to look into his eyes again.

“Don’t stop,” Lenny begged, desperate for something, anything, to let him feel like he wasn’t going to be carried away on the wind and rain blowing in gusts against the window.

 

Looking for more of a snogging good time? Check out Victoria Blisse’s site and click on the links at the bottom of her post for more sweet, sexy kisses of all flavours.

Friend Release: Stockholm Syndrome by Sage Marlowe

I have Sage Marlowe visiting again because she has a new book out, and while I haven’t had a chance to pick it up, I have to say, it looks like a fantastic read. Knowing her work, I’m pretty sure I’m going to love this book when I get a chance to read it. Check it out!

Stockholm Syndrome

Gay MM erotic romance / thriller / suspense, super novel

Blurb

We don’t get to choose who we fall in love with—and sometimes we fall too far…

Daniel Eames is a bodyguard. Usually assigned to protecting politicians, he has fallen out of his boss’s good books after getting too close to his last charge’s son but when rising Hollywood star and Academy Award nominee Bryan McTiernan receives peculiar letters and requires the best possible protection, Dan is put on the job.

While he agrees that the letters are more than harmless fan mail, he finds it impossible to narrow down his suspicions and Bryan isn’t helping by alternately seducing and irritating the hell out of him. Against his better judgement, Dan falls for Bryan’s manipulations, but the more he gets to glimpse behind the façade of the young actor, the more he realises that something in Bryan’s past has a strong hold over him. While both Dan and Bryan are aware of this, neither sees the full extent of his fixation.

With the help of Gabe, a fellow bodyguard and friend, Dan pursues different theories and even hires a private investigator to learn about Bryan’s well-hidden past. What he discovers has the potential to destroy more than just a promising career and in the end, Bryan has to make a choice—allow for his past fixation to take him hostage again or run away and into Dan’s open arms?

Excerpt

I looked up from my desk and tossed aside the paper clip I’d been toying with. “Seriously, an actor? You know that’s not my usual clientele. Tell them to look elsewhere. Or send someone else, I don’t care. I’m not interested.”

Michelle met my scowl with perfect calm. “Bronson wants you for the job, Daniel.”

“Why on earth does he want me?”

“Make an educated guess.”

Michelle was my boss’s secretary. As she stood there in my office, arms crossed in front of her chest and hips tilted, I realised once again that she combined the looks of an Afghan with the personality of a Doberman. I let out a weary sigh. “Babysitting Hollywood wannabes really isn’t my field of expertise,” I pointed out. “And he’s on the other side of the fucking continent. Have they run out of bodyguards in LA?”

She snorted. “Hardly, and it’s not that they want to haul your ass over there because you’re so fucking fabulous either. They guy lives here in New York and you know, this is just a thought, but maybe Bronson wants you away from your so-called field of expertise after the, ahem, cock-up you made of your last assignment.” I didn’t like the sugary tone in her voice, but she ignored the indignant stare I shot her and added, “Besides, Bryan McTiernan is hardly a Hollywood wannabe. He’s establishing himself as a household name. His last three films were huge box office hits, he earned himself an Academy Award nomination last year and his current film will probably win him one of the little golden boys.”

“Good for him. If he’s such a big star, he ought to have at least a dozen bodyguards by now. Why don’t they take care of him?”

“Well, apparently Mr McTiernan has never been too concerned about his safety and doesn’t think he needs any security at all except for the usual muscle at big events. He wasn’t even the one who asked for protection. His management, however, has a different opinion. They want him to be safe and they’re willing to pay pretty much any price.”

My curiosity was raised, despite my better judgement. “If they really said that, the boy’s got to be worth something.”

“He’s just entered the eight figure league if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ten million bucks?”

She smirked. “Double that.”

Impressed, I whistled through my teeth. “Not bad. Tell me more. What’s his problem exactly?”

Michelle gave me the kind of knowing half-smile that made me think she’d read my thoughts. “Stalker,” she said.

I reached for my coffee and leant back, considering my options. When I’d started working in personal security a few years ago, I’d promised myself to never get involved with the Hollywood babes, no matter which place they called home, or with the rich and the famous. As far as safety was concerned, it was hard enough to protect someone who didn’t lead a life in the public eye, or had crazy fans that needed to be taken into account. But even I recognised a big fish when I heard about it and if the guy was worth that kind of money, then this case might be the perfect chance for me to prove my own value to my employer. I put down the cup and took a breath. “Is it serious?”

Michelle gave a shrug. “I really have no idea, but it sounds serious enough. Looks like his stalker is the kind who believes themselves to be his soul mate or some shit like that.”

“I see. What do we have?”

“A bunch of letters.”

“Okay. Threats?”

She shook her head.

“Personal contact of any kind?”

“No.”

I paused briefly, then I said, “Could be nothing.”

“I know. And yet it might be everything. Either way, it’s not as though you’ve got anything else to do at the moment, and as you can probably imagine, Mr B is dying to bag himself that assignment. You know you’re not in his good books right now. This could be your chance to jump right back into the first chapter.”

So my thoughts hadn’t been all that wrong. “Bronson can just go fuck himself,” I grumbled. “Why doesn’t he look after the kid himself if he wants the job so badly?”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “He wants you to do it, Dan, and he wants you to do it well. Extremely well. He can charge McTiernan’s management basically anything he wants for this job and they. Will. Pay. Having you as his watchdog is still cheaper than what they stand to lose if anything happens to him. And as for Bronson fucking himself—rumour has it that you are the one who will be seriously fucked if you don’t give Mr B a reason for keeping you, so do I really have to tell you that this is going to be a test for you?”

“Fuck. Really?” I’d suspected as much, but knowing I was officially on the boss’s shit list put a dent into my well-polished box of self-esteem.

“Really. As I said. He wasn’t impressed with what happened the last time.”

I bit back a groan. As if I needed reminding. “Fine. I’ll meet the kid. Make an appointment, would you?”

Smirking, Michelle turned and walked to the door. “Already did. You’ll see him at three. The address is in your phone.”

“Oh, what would I do without you?” I heaved a theatrical sigh.

“The same as you always do—try to knock down walls with that stubborn head of yours and collect bruises in the process.”

* * * *

At five minutes before three, I pulled up at the address Michelle had helpfully typed into my electronic calendar. I was surprised at what I found. Instead of the huge, overpriced villa or town house I’d expected, I parked in front of an apartment building that could have been the address of any average Joe. An up-and-coming Hollywood star was certainly not who I would have imagined to live in this neighbourhood. But then again, underneath the makeup, big hair and larger-than-life personalities the media created for them, they were all just ordinary people and the Big Apple took another shade off their shine anyway.

I decided to wait for a couple more minutes as I didn’t want to appear overly enthusiastic by showing up early. It was true, I basically had to take on this assignment, but that was something my client didn’t know. Besides, lingering around for a little longer gave me an excuse to check out the hottie who’d just come running up the street. Yes, running was the right expression. Instead of the moderate pace many joggers, myself included, employed, the guy approached at full speed. He slowed down a bit when he reached my car and looked straight at me in passing. He quirked a dazzling smile, then he shot me a wink and bolted up the stairs to the apartment building. I was still staring at the door after it had fallen shut. Weirdo. Extremely pretty, though, from what I’d seen. I shook off the incident, unclipped the seatbelt and got out of the car. Time for a first security check.

 

Buy links:

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ELMVRSC

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ELMVRSC

Total-E-Bound: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2244

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-stockholmsyndrome-1268591-340.html

And because she’s awesome that way:

Extra Excerpt!!!!!

“Okay then. How do you want to play this?” I asked when Bryan returned after his lengthy conversation on the phone. Judging by the furrows on his forehead he wasn’t too happy about the things that had been addressed, but he’d kept his voice too low for me to overhear anything specific.

His eyes narrowed. “How do I want to play this? It’s your call, isn’t it? I’m only doing this for Heidi. If I got to choose, you wouldn’t be here at all but long on your way back to wherever you’ve come from.”

“The way you insist on not needing me could almost lead me to believe you know something that you’re not telling.”

Bryan stared at me for several seconds before he answered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave him a disarming smile. “Nothing. I’m merely stating a fact. Although, should you really have any information about those letters, no matter how irrelevant it may seem to you, now would be the perfect time to admit to it. I’d be willing to forget the entire incident and you could save yourself a lot of money.”

Raising one eyebrow in arrogant indifference, Bryan gave a shrug. “I’m not paying for this. Heidi hired you, so be sure to send the bill to her.”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

“There never was a question, just you making an assumption. And unless you’re implying that I’m sending those letters to myself, which incidentally I’m not, I refuse to discuss this matter any further.” His so far non-existent accent had begun to surface during Bryan’s heated little speech. It was the first time something about him reminded me that I was dealing with a foreigner, although nothing about Bryan made him appear foreign to this country. Quite the opposite. He blended in well—almost too well, which could have been attributed to him trying a bit too hard to come across as an all-American boy. Not for the first time, I had to remind myself that I was dealing with someone whose job it was to sell people a fake reality, a truth he could bend to his liking, and it was a profession Bryan was good at as his two Academy Award nominations showed.

I sighed. The pretty exterior came with a hard core, it seemed, or rather with the kind of attitude that rich, spoilt, only children always appeared to have. I remembered the behaviour only too well, but refused to dwell on those memories now. At least that episode of my life had taught me some lessons in handling spirited youngsters.

 

About the author

 

Sage is a multi-published author of MM erotic romance novels and novellas and loves exploring the flavours of gay erotic fiction.

A willing slave to all the fascinating guys who keep queuing up and want their stories told, Sage can almost always be found cooking up the next hot story or daydreaming about new ways of rubbing sexy male bodies together to make the sparks fly.

 

Contact and buy links

 

Sage’s website & blog: www.sage-marlowe.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/sage.marlowe0

e-mail: marlowe.sage@yahoo.co.uk

Twitter: @SageMarlowe

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/SageMarlowe

Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/sagemarlowe

For all books published with Total-E-Bound, go to: http://www.total-e-bound.com/authordetail.asp?A_ID=224

For all books published with Siren-BookStrand, go to: www.bookstrand.com/sage-marlowe

 

August Al Fresco care of Victoria Bliss

So I thought August al fresco sounded like an awful lot of fun. Until I realized that apparently, my guys are shy. Do you know I could not find one instance in any of my books where they actually go at it out of doors? I thought that was just crazy weird enough that it will need rectifying in the next story I write.

In the mean time, I found a sweet, new kiss between two men looking to start life again in my short story Life After.

Now I know it’s not the good stuff, but I hope you feel the same sense of new things beginning that these two do.

“Not going back….” John concentrated on his coffee, imagining that scenario for himself. It appealed to that part of him that just didn’t want to feel sorry for himself anymore. “So.” He sat up a little and shook the fantasy off. “This business that runs itself, what is it you do?”

“I’m a landscaper.”

John lifted both eyebrows. “Convenient, since you live in an overgrown cemetery.”

“Yeah.” Kyle nodded. “It is. My granddad taught me everything I know about plants. He was caretaker here. He loved this job. So did I. So much I made it my life. At some point, I let it take over, got stuck behind a desk and forgot what it was I loved.” He pushed a pair of clippers across the table a few inches. “It’s good to get back to basics, sometimes.”

“I don’t know what basics even are anymore,” John muttered. “Maybe I never knew.” He clamped his lips shut, realizing the private thought had slipped out into their shared space. Kyle sat across from him, watching, waiting, but John had nothing to add.

Finally, Kyle rose, gripped the clippers and a pair of gloves, and John took a gulp of coffee and stood. His time was up. Shame he’d wasted the last, precious seconds of it pushing an interesting man away with a thick wall of self pity.

“Basics,” Kyle said, holding out the tools. “C’mon. I’ll show you how to trim that lilac of yours. It needs a good overhaul.” He strode toward the door, and then stopped. “If you have time.”

John smiled. The expression felt less and less out of place. He could easily find the time to study this man and his strange mix of rugged and vulnerable.

Being able to identify what a lilac bud looked like was not high on the list of things John ever thought he would need to know or care about. Even still, time flew by while Kyle showed him what to look for.

“You want to be careful. Lilacs bloom in the spring, but they set their buds now,” Kyle explained. “So you have to find the buds and not cut them off, or you’ll have no flowers when the snow goes.”

“Then wouldn’t this be easier to do in the spring?”

A little nod and a smile greeted that. “It would be.” The branch Kyle was trimming danced up as he released it and slowly pivoted. “But I didn’t want to wait that long for the excuse to spend more time with you.”

John opened his mouth, but found nothing to say. He closed it again with a bit of a frown.

Kyle shuffled closer to him. “Another line, I know.” That little one-shouldered shrug was beginning to grow on John. It seemed to fit well with the flop of hair that kept falling over Kyle’s left eye. “Can’t seem to help myself.”

Itching to reach up and brush the hair aside, John shifted his feet and stuffed the gloves into his coat pocket. He fiddled with the lock on the snips and finally glanced up. “Maybe, next Wednesday, instead of sitting here on a cold bench, I could help you,” he waved vaguely around the grounds, “with whatever you do.”

“You’d…have to wear more sensible shoes.”

John lifted one foot slightly, and as if just to prove Kyle’s point, his smooth leather sole skidded against loose, dry leaves. The other foot slipped out from under him. He flailed. One minute he was standing awkwardly scrambling for something to say, the next he was scrambling not to fall on his ass.

Kyle nabbed him out of the air, strong arms folding around his waist to hold him up.

His fumble for words disintegrated as the taller man’s dark eyes caught and claimed the last bits of his reason. “I…uh. Could do sens—”

Kyle’s mouth descended, full lips pressing against John’s partly open mouth. Finally, something he could deal with. Kissing he knew, and he did, parting his lips more and accepting Kyle’s silent invitation.

The kiss shattered him. If he’d thought Kyle’s good looks and impossibly deep, brown eyes had been disorienting, his kiss, his tongue sliding over John’s lips, and the tiny vibration of a moan the gardener let escape, were devastating. He was breathing hard by the time Kyle backed off. His fist, clenched around a bit of down-filled parka, took concentrated effort to unfasten.

“I had to check.” Kyle touched his cheek, lips curving, eyes softening under the hank of hair. “Wasn’t sure you weren’t just being polite. Humouring me.” His breath warmed the tip of John’s nose. He hadn’t loosened his hold much, either, and John feared the close proximity might make it obvious he had gone way past humouring. His interest was making his pants fairly uncomfortable.

John had always thought being a lawyer meant never being lost for words. Now, he found it damn hard to breathe, let alone speak. “I—I could have been. You might have gotten a face full of fist.”

“Okay. I was pretty sure I was right.”

A bit more of John’s mask crumbled; something light and airy managed to breeze its way through the cracks in his shell. If he wasn’t careful, this guy was going to break right on in and make him feel something again. And would that be so very horrible? “You were right,” he agreed.

His pocket vibrated. The phone inside his jacket, pressed between their bodies, demanded his attention.

So this is the fun part for you guys and gals, and where Victoria comes in:

Comment on this post to be in to win one of these fabulous prizes:

A Kindle  and  £50 worth of Total-E-Bound ebooks.

or 

£50 worth of Xcite ebooks

And be sure to check out all the August Alfresco posts at http://smutalfresco.co.uk and comment on each one to have more chances to win.

All terms and conditions are available at smutalfresco.co.uk and the winners will be announced on the 1st September at the website.

Book Talk: What there is by Kate McMurray

 

I’ve been on a spat of reading about sports guys recently. It was sort of accidental and started with Amy Lane’s The Locker Room. (More on that in another post). Then I read Tigers and Devils, and that was one of those books that I probably would have loved even more than I did had I read it before all the hype had built it up to a place I think no book can ever actually achieve.

Then I read a review for What There Is and was intrigued enough to buy it on spec, since now I had the sports guy bug. It’s short, sweet, and over. The characters are really sweet, both of them with unique quirks; the jock who can cook, and can cook well, even, and the numbers geek who loves sports. (Extra relatable for me, because most of my brothers are total intellectual nerds, but each of them has a certain kind of madness for their favorite sports team that is inexplicable to me.)

These sweet characters, Justin and Mark, are placed in an artificial relationship incubator, ie: they become roomies, sharing an apartment to live in the city close to their jobs, and conveniently,  both gay. This is not a new plot, because where you think it’s going? Yes. It goes there. And I give this book great props for making fun of it’s own premise by fully dragging out the porn plot cliche and holding it up for all to see.  Thankfully, the book itself stays on the sweet side of actual porn, and while I love a good sex scene as well as the next reader, I liked that this book made an effort to keep the love scenes actually about the love, and not all about the sex.

All in all, by the end, I felt as though I’d read a great character sketch of these two guys, and the outline for one hell of a novel. I’m sad there was no real connection for me to the characters, because they are both easy to like, and easy to root for, but I was left feeling like I couldn’t wait to read the book. I know. That sounds crazy, but there it is. It is a wonderful story with wonderful characters that should have taken the time to be a novel, I think. Still, I felt good and happy at the end, so I count it a win. Just not quite a slam dunk.

The Blurb: Former professional baseball player Justin Piersol needs a new life after a career-ending injury, and his job as a high school baseball coach isn’t exactly fulfilling. Still, things are looking up: he finds the perfect room in an apartment in Brooklyn with Mark, who writes a popular column on sports statistics.

 

Mark is nerdy and socially awkward and intensely shy, and he immediately develops a terrible crush on Justin, who barely seems to notice him. As they get to know each other, Justin admits he misses playing baseball, that coaching doesn’t scratch the itch. Mark confesses he thought he’d be married by now, that he wants a serious relationship. So they make a pact: Justin will help Mark find a man, and Mark will help Justin find something he loves more than baseball.

 

They put their plan into action… and then life gets complicated. Mark meets a nice guy named Dave, and Justin is suddenly crazy with jealousy. Justin realizes he wants to let go of the past and focus on the present, but as Mark and Dave become an item, Justin fears he’s too late.

And the link, because I do think it’s worth reading.

My day at a Glance

5:30: Try not to break the expensive iPhone when it makes that annoying get-your-ass-out-of-bed sound. Get up, shower, dress, eat, make lunch and get to the bus stop on time. Preferably with bus pass, phone (to listen to Amy Lane’s Promise books) and two shoes. That match

7:30: sitting at my desk ready to do the grunt work from hell. Seriously. No self-respecting artist of any kind should do the numbers juggling I do al

l day. Well, unless they like numbers. Me? They break my brain.

4:30 Get. Out!!!!!! With phone, becuae the bus ride home is a chance to indulge in more Amy Lane. Yay!

5:00: Greet the family and try not to step o

n any already irritated toes. People who spend all day every day together can get on one another’s nerves in an awful way, and you don’t want to be the innocent they unleash on because you said the one thing that turns out to be the hair-trigger that day. Something like “Hi, honey. How was your day?” Because being

that innocent sod sucks.

5:15: escape to cool basement office (ignore that musty smell. That’s the old tax returns waiting to be shredded. They aren’t going anywhere. They can be done another day) Open the computer and check the email, and see if anything on the interwebs blew up while I was away. Like, hopefully, sales of my books so I can not go to work tomorrow. Nope. No such luck.

6:00-ish: Emerge from the office to eat dinner

with the family, who all seem less hazardous now that food is in front of them. Enjoy some visiting and laughing and chatting.

6:45: No more laughing and chatting. Back to the office. Write 2000 words and a blog post and chat with a few people. Be social.

9:45: count your words. 1,687. Or there abouts. Close enough. Shut ‘er down and go the hell to bed. 5:30 comes damn early. Hope you’re in time to say good night to at least a couple of family members.

 

Ever wonder about the glamorous life of a writer? Well, there it is, folks. The glamour! The excitement! The…pfffft. The hard work and the time away from the fun stuff, the excitement when you can see the end of a book and the dread that as soon as you type the those two little words, you have to type “In the Beginning” when you sit down tomorrow.

Don’t ask why we do it. Just live with us for one day while we can’t. I double dare you! That will be answer enough. And if you think this is a complaint about being a writer, let me assure you, it isn’t. It’s a complaint about having to have a day job in order to be a writer, maybe, but not about being a writer.

I cannot type fast enough or well enough to keep up with the thoughts and images in my head. I struggle to stay present in my own life while my brain vacations in my stories. I’m a freak and an eccentric and I love what I do. I just wish there was more time in the day to do it.

All American Or Canadian) Boys in love with boys.

I had to share because I thought the video is fun and sends a positive, human message out to the world, that we all love, we all lose sometimes, but we all hope, always.

Also, if yo want to know more about Steve Grand, here’s a nice article on Buzzfeed:

and you can download the song here

And if your taste runs more towards bear than twink, there’ is always On My Way to Finding You by Canadian Drake Jensen. Be forewarned, this on’r pretty twangy, which i like, but others might not. But the video also features’ Drake’s husband, which i think makes up for the twang.

World War Z: Recap

I’ve been trying to think what I got out of going to see World War Z. Trying to decide if it was a bad movie, or just…a movie. It was no Avengers, that’s for sure, or Hobbit, or iron Man.

But somethings I can be decisive about:

1) I can now officially say I’ve gone to the movie theatre to see a zombie apocalypse movie, so that’s crossed off the list of pop culture things to do.

2) There is the certain knowledge that I would never survive a zombie apocalypse. Let’s face it, I’m no Brad Pitt.

3) I had a chance to hold my wonderful hubby’s hand for two hours. Crushingly, poor guy. He’s still flexing it experimentally a week later.

4) renewed certainty that I am emphatically a rom-com kind of girl. Well leaving aside both the Marvel Universe and Middle Earth, that is, and even more so if both parties involved in the rom-com are men. Give me Shelter!

5) And I now have about zillion more reasons to keep looking over my shoulder and to turn on lights before I go into any room.

6) and finally, proof that the allure of Brad Pitt is still a mystery to me. I will take a stern and aged Will Smith over unnaturally young-looking family guy Brad any day of the week.

will Smith from After Earth
looking like a stressed out
and aging soldier

Brad Pitt from World War Z. Convincing family man?

Not that I think Brad is a bad actor. I think he’s a pretty decent actor. I just don’t get all the hoopla is all.

All in all, The best part of the evening for me was spending it with hubs and having fun hanging out. I didn’t hate the movie. I didn’t love the movie. Given the choice of another zombie apocalypse or Iron Man? Or maybe Fili and Kili? I’ll take a Tony Stark marathon, thanks, topped off by a helping of dwarves and hobbits before I venture into another zombie-fest.

In the mean time, there is this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3T-evQZiQo

And the Winner Is…….

Drumroll…..KIMBERLEY!!!!!

Kimberley, you’ve won, so please drop back in and let me know your contact information so I can get you your prize!