Z.A. Maxfield's Blog, page 23

Teaser Tuesday – with author Sara York!

 

Writing is Sara York’s life. The stories fight to get out, often leaving her working on four or five books at once. She can’t help but write. Along with her writing addiction she has a coffee addiction. Some nights, the only reason she stops writing and goes to sleep is for the fresh brewed coffee in the morning. Sara enjoys writing twisted tales of passion, anger, and love with a good healthy dose of lust thrown in for fun.

 

Visit Sara York at her Blog or Website.

 

Here’s today’s snippet, see if you can guess which of Sara York’s books this teaser comes from. Email me your answer to zamaxfield at zamaxfield dot com. Please put Teaser Tuesday in the subject line! Last week’s winner: Natalija

Good Luck Sara York Fans!

 

~*~

Small, cute, and hot laughed and this time his smile didn’t instantly disappear. “Okay. Coffee is fine.”

“All right!” **** did a little fist pump. “There’s a Starbucks right across the street. My name is ****, by the way.”

“****,” the twink responded.

**** shook ****’s hand and loved the soft, silken texture of ****’s skin. He hoped he’d be able to see and touch other parts of the gorgeous man’s body sooner or later.

“Let’s go,” **** said as he walked out of the back, into the main area and out of the store. Every few steps he looked behind him to make sure the skitterish guy was still there. He had no idea why **** was so jumpy. This sweetie was fucking adorably hot and had to have other men after him all the time.

When they left Pleasures, **** stopped until **** was next to him before continuing to the sidewalk.

“It’s a nice day, huh?” **** asked as they waited for the light to turn.

“Yeah,” **** replied.

 

 

Sunday Brunch – March 16, 2013

Last week, we were all about the whips and chains! I’m so glad my authors didn’t all agree on one or the other. Diversity is more fun at the brunch table!

Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, and I hope you’re all getting your very American St. Patrick’s Day meal of corned beef and cabbage ready. I think this year I’ll make colcannon and see if the kids like it. With my offspring, you can’t go wrong with potatoes and butter, I wonder if that’s true if there’s cabbage mixed in?

I want to know what you’re planning for St. Patrick’s day celebration. Do you go out? Do you stay home? Do you watch The Quiet Man? Do you turn off the TV and let your  ”petty fingers” do the rest?

If I were a drinking girl, I’d be tipping a pint of Sam Adams or Heineken for for proving that some businesses can put principle over profit.

For a bonus prize: The best made-from-scratch Bloody Mary mix recipe — just the mix, not the cocktail — wins an “I heart St. Nacho’s” T-shirt like the one William, my lovely assistant (pictured here) is wearing!

 Either leave it  in the comments or email it to zamaxfield at zamaxfield dot com. I like ‘em rich and spicy, and I want to make them without all the additives you find in the mix bottles at the store. Help a writer out here! I’ll be in your debt.

Today’s question is also about liquor:

“It’s prohibition again, what are you trying to concoct in your bathtub?”

 We all know that if it’s prohibition time– my family is doing its part to help those in need. That’s right– my family used to help those in their time of need receive the life-saving benefits of whole grain alcohol from that wonderful land up north known as Canada. *grins* Once again, it means that I’ll be carrying on the tradition since I’ve been learning how to make wine, mead and spirits for the past couple of years. Don’t look surprised. You thought it was all research for books, I know, yet, I knew years ahead of all of you that this time was coming again. Which is why I stockpiled enough supplies to make the necessary arrangements for sacramental wine and mead.

The next thing on my list– spirits. Between you, me and the wall– it’s for cleaning and for cooking– but hey, you make sure the cook, the diners and everyone else gets a sip or two of the good ole bathtub vodka. Distilled by these hardworking hands– you can even use it to create special dishes like penne pasta with vodka sauce. I love my food, which does show up in my writing. Occasionally, my love for alcohol creeps in too. but I think I managed to keep that away from the Department of Revenue this time…What’s that noise? Did you hear that? Run for your lives– it’s the coppers! Don’t let them have the flask I gave you. Run! Run! Run! If they catch you– they’ll make you sing like a canary if I don’t skin you first. Now go!

Purchase Treaty Of Desire: Loose Id   Amazon  B&N   ARE 

My go-to booze of choice lately is gin, so that’s the easy answer. Although, actually, I think I’d do pretty well in a speakeasy. If I’d been alive in the 1920s, that’s certainly where I would have gone for my cocktail fix. I love the idea of glamorous people in hidden locations drinking and dancing and carrying on.

New York City loves a novelty bar, but I imagine the faux speakeasies now are not the same as they were during Prohibition. I went to a party once at a bar in the West Village that billed itself as a speakeasy, and certainly it was just as hard to find; I walked by it three times trying to find the place because the only signage was a tiny sign on a non-descript door, and then you had to go down a dark staircase and get past a bouncer. The place was quite posh, but it’s hard to get excited about paying $20 for a cocktail, no matter how skilled the bartender is. Still, it seems so classy, well-dressed people sitting around in dim lighting, sipping from martini glasses. (This is my life in my imagination.)

Not to peddle in stereotypes, but Brooklyn is also this hotbed of people making their own stuff, and alcohol is not an exception. I went to a homemade beer tasting once and some of the beers tasted pretty good, even though I was baffled how anyone in Brooklyn could have space in their living quarters to brew beer. (I mean, my bathtub can barely fit a person. I don’t have a clue what brewing beer involves, but I imagine it would need more space than that.)

Hopefully the US has learned its lesson where Prohibition is concerned and so that I never have to solve the problem of how to make gin in my bathtub.

But if you like a little baseball with your illicit cocktail, check out my story “One Man to Remember” in the Playing Ball anthology put out by Dreamspinner Press. It’s a Prohibition-era historical romance between a rookie baseball player and a sports reporter, and they do indeed visit many a speakeasy.

Purchase Playing Ball:  Dreamspinner Press   Amazon

I’m so happy to be here at Sunday Brunch! And maybe it’s because it’s brunch time and I have mimosas on the brain, but if it were Prohibition, I believe the drink I’d miss the most would be champagne. Or prosecco, cava, sparkling wine…I’m not picky! If it bubbles, I like it. I’m not sure it’s possible to brew sparkling wine of any type in a bathtub, but I’d be willing to give it a shot if that were the only way to get a flute full. Because champagne isn’t just about feeling fancy or even tasting great–it’s about celebrating life’s biggest (and smallest) moments.
 
Life is hard sometimes. We all know it, we all experience it, and we all (if we’re honest) have a tendency to focus more on the hard times than the good times. It’s human nature to notice when the going gets rough, while smooth sailing tends to go unremarked. We dwell on our problems, our mistakes, our regrets. But for me, an essential component of living a happy life is taking the time to dwell on the good stuff. At my house, we take every opportunity to break out the bubbly! Turned in a proposal for the next book? *POP* Settled a dispute between colleagues at work today? *POP* Walked the dogs a whole mile without the little one snarling at anything that could swallow him in two bites? *POP* *glug* *Ahhhhh*
 
One sip of dry, toasty, effervescent champagne and I remember that life is good. Savoring the flavor and the heady tickle of the fizz helps me savor my day with all its triumphs and accomplishments–some big, some not so big, but all worth enjoying. And if I can sip that flute of sparkling wine in a hot bath with a heartbreakingly emotional novel, then I’m basically in heaven. So that’s my advice to all of you: pop a cork, pour out some bubbly, and relax with a good romance.* The happiness that celebrating yourself brings will outlast the buzz from the alcohol.
 
Cheers!
 
Lily Everett
 
*Like, for instance, any of ZAM’s books! Or if you’ve already read all of those, you could try my latest, Shoreline Drive . It’s the second book in my Sanctuary Island contemporary romance series, but don’t worry, you can read it as a stand alone! Comment on this post with the name of your favorite cocktail, mocktail, wine, or beer, and I’ll choose one commenter to receive a signed copy of Shoreline Drive along with a custom Sanctuary Island beach tote.
 
Buy Links:   Amazon   B&N

 

 

Teaser Tuesdays Are Back – With Guest Lynley Wayne

Lynley Wayne is the pen name of a thirty-something female living on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. When not writing, she can usually be found reading and thinking up creative ways to avoid housework. She is married to a very understanding husband who doesn’t complain when she spends hours in front of the computer and he ends up having to fix supper on occasion. Or when she asks random off the wall questions. Or when she talks for hours about whatever story she’s working on. Yeah, basically he’s vying for sainthood.

Lynley strongly believes everyone is entitled to their own version of happiness, no matter how it may differ from the norm. She writes characters she wants to read and hopes others enjoy them as much as she enjoyed writing them.

While most people who know her wouldn’t guess, she’s a hardcore romantic at heart and loves nothing more than a happily ever after. Lynley may have come to romance later than some, but once she found it she never looked back. It was years later when she accidentally stumbled onto the male/male genre and knew it was where she was meant to be. From then on she’s spent endless hours writing about love in its many forms.

It is her hope that one day society will be able to look past the labels and see the person behind it. That they will realize we are all the same. Until that time comes, she will continue telling stories of a love others may believe is wrong, but she thinks is nothing short of beautiful.

*Lynley is a 2014 Lambda Literary Finalist.

Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:

I’ll post a snippet from one of Lynley’s Wayne’s books with the character names asterisked out.

Your mission is to guess which of Lynley’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to me,  zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. Winner gets an ebook. It’s that simple! Come play along…

Here’s Lynley’s snippet:

“Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can ask me anything.” ****** pushed his plate away, giving ***** his full attention.

“Well,” ***** fidgeted. “I mean, it’s not really my business, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Ask whatever it is you’re trying to. I have no secrets. Not from you.”

***** let out a sigh. “**** said you’re not close to your family, and there’ve been a few times you’ve alluded to something along those lines. Can I ask what happened?”

The pain was still too fresh most days. No doubt his face showed it. When ***** started to backpedal, that only confirmed it. “It’s okay; you don’t have to tell. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” ****** reached across the table for *****’s hand, needing the contact. “Like I’ve told you, I’ve pretty much always been aware that I am gay. **** says that’s why we became friends; like is drawn to like.” Reaching for his glass, ****** took a drink, wetting his suddenly tight throat. “I also had no illusions that my father would ever accept it. As far back as I can remember, he was always trying to ‘make a man’ out of me. While you learned to cook, I wasn’t allowed near a stove. According to my father, cooking is woman’s work.”

“I’m sorry.” ***** gave his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” ****** smiled. “Even though I’ve never been the least bit feminine, I think my father always suspected the truth. I’m not sure how, but as hard as he tried to make a man out of me, there had to be a reason.” Clearing his throat, ****** finished off the rest of his water and watched as ***** refilled his glass. “I didn’t exactly hide my sexuality, but I didn’t flaunt it either. I never introduced them to any of the guys I dated. I told myself it was because it wasn’t serious; we were having fun, nothing more. The truth is, I was scared. When I realized it, I knew it was time. I had to be honest with my family about who I am. I couldn’t continue living a lie.”

“That was very brave of you.”

 

Sunday Brunch with Friends…

Last week we talked about being busted in a BDSM club, and this week we take a more in-depth approach.

With the popularity of BDSM themed novels and the explosion of pretty velvet blindfolds, furry cuffs, and gray silk ties, a little fetish play seems to have taken the world by storm!

This week, I ask my pals the big question:

Whips or Chains? (Explain)

Leave your own answer in the comments section for a chance to win an ebook! Don’t be shy! Three great authors are standing by (and of course I’m waiting) to hear your response!

Last Week’s Winner:  Lisa G!

Whips, baby, whips.

Chains are hard, unyielding, and to a degree, inflexible hunks of cold metal. And while I do have a fondness for big hunks of metal, as anyone who has seen the scads of silver I wear on my hands can attest to, for me chain is an impersonal tool. It smells of the dentist’s office. The mental weight of it carries the taint of torture and bondage of the bad sort. The word that comes to my mind is brutish – an implement used to restrain dogs who’ve been mistreated instead of loved. There are those who love chain for just those and other reasons, but not me. It’s merely a device in the game.

Leather, however, is sensuous. It has its own warmth. The smell of leather is the smell of sex – like a lover’s skin in the afterglow. When you run it through your hand the texture licks your flesh like a ghost of a caress. It breaths through every sense and wakes up your body with a promise of supple, yet stern, pleasure.

It is flexible. It bends to your will. It becomes an extension of you. You hold the handle of a whip in your hand long enough and it begins to conform to you, give into you, becomes part of you. The strands of the flogger are like your own fingers clawing into your lover’s back. Leaving your mark on their skin.

It can be in simple of form as your belt used to bind or beat or as complex and wicked as a braided flogger. Leather has the potential to be the tool only a skilled master of a single tail whip can call to life; make speak with a gunshot crack as it splits the air at one and half times the speed of sound. In essence, as it once was part of a living, breathing animal, it never truly looses it soul. It lives again in the hand of a master.

And it’s just fucking sexy. ~ Author James Buchanan

Purchase Laying Ghosts: MLR Press   ARE   AMAZON

~*~

Whips definitely. Why? Because I’m the one holding it. I’m not being whipped and there’s this thrill that goes through me when I’m holding the leather of either my flogger or my whip in my hand. If I’m holding that whip then there’s at least one, if not two subs bare-assed in front of me waiting for the delicious sting of “Daredevil” which is what I call him. They are bound and breathless waiting for me. It’s a delicious feeling being able to give back to them just as they give to me.

Plus, I am against chains just on principle. LOL.

~Author Victor Alexander

Purchase The Beginning (Sons of Adam): R&P   ARE  Bookstrand   Amazon

~*~

Hmmmmm….

Whips or chains…. Whips or chains….

Metaphorically, that’s a tough call. I like bondage and spanking just as much as the next girl. Moving that up a notch, though, I’d say I’ll take the chains. A whip will cut the skin when used effectively, so I’ll stick to straining, arching, begging submission with Sir above me, a stern expression, and arsenal of toys and…. Oh, uhm… sorry.

I’ll take the chains.

~ Author J.P. Barnaby

Purchase In The Absence of Monsters: Wild City   ARE    Amazon

 

 

AND THE WINNER IS…

I know you probably think I forgot, but NO WAY would I forget to do this!

Thanks to Viviana, my very excellent Enchantress of Books blog tour coordinator, we have a winner!

The game is over, the numbers have been crunched, and the winner of the Amazon $50.00 Gift Certificate is

Juliee!!!

Congratulations, your winning gift certificate is on its way!

Many thanks to everyone who participated in this with a special thank-you to the reviewers,  bloggers, and friends who hosted me while I was on this journey!

XOXO, I love all of you!

Stay tuned, there’s more to come,

ZAM

Back to Sunday Brunch Blogging!

Hiya ZAMmers! I got pretty bogged down there for a bit, and was unable to get my Sunday Brunch posts up. Thanks to William Cooper, my awesome new “lovely assistant”, (photo below), I am able to get this started again.

I’m happy to report that I have three guests today, Cynnara Tregarth, Vicktor Alexander, and the incomparable, very busy Ethan Day!

I’m so lucky to have wonderful people who will share their thoughts with me.

Readers, please share your answers in the comment section for a chance to win an ebook from these authors!

Today’s question: You’re busted in a BDSM Dungeon. What were you doing?

When it comes to BDSM clubs and me– anything is possible. But normally– it’s me, a flogger, and a lovely male or female sub. Though I’m a switch— I submit very rarely and only with a chosen few. When I’m at a club- I’m normally a Dominant and I love to play and I love watching. Flogging is fun to do and I love teasing. It’s also one of the things I love writing about in my books.

If you don’t find me there, you’ll find me haunting rooms where I can see both Dominas and Doms doing their things, bringing subs and switches to fulfillment. From pony play to people on St. Andrew’s Crosses to medical fetishes– I love watching it all and sometimes being part of it, especially when I can learn new techniques to use for myself and my male. Plus, you never know what might be incorporated into a story line, like the time I helped a Dom tie up his sub on a gurney and helped do wax play. What a great experience, especially learning how to vary the drip pattern and to avoid burning the submissive. Very erotic and also so beautiful to watch.

~Author Cynnara Tregarth

to Purchase Pirate Queen’s Rebellion: Loose Id    ARE   Amazon  B&N

~*~

The police heard news that John Barrowman, Shemar Moore, Scott Hoying and Joe Manganiello had gone missing. After investigating their tweets and emails they discovered that they had been corresponding with author, Vicktor Alexander. Following the location their tweets and texts were coming from they tracked the celebrities to a BDSM club. They followed the sounds of groans, moans, and cries of ecstasy into a room where they found all four celebrities, plus Vicktor Alexander, engaged in what could only be described as a very complicated, very sensual game of Twister with Vicktor at the center of it all.

His tongue was “engaged” in a certain area of Scott Hoying’s body when the police first arrived so he was unable to answer any questions, and when the police tried to separate the men, they found that they were all tangled together. They were concerned when they noticed the ropes wrapped around John Barrowman and Shemar Moore’s limbs, but the happy smiles on both men’s faces led law enforcement to believe that perhaps they were not in danger. Even when Vicktor Alexander brought down the tail of his flogger on the flesh of the men’s asses they merely moaned happily,which caused the police officers to leave in a hurry.

Days later the police station received a fruit basket with a videotape inside. The video showed the entirety of the game of “Twister” between Vicktor and the four celebrities, but this was not what so intrigued the officers… well, not all of them, there were a few who grew quite excited by the images, it was what happened at the end that caused them all to stare at each other at wonder. Once all four celebrities had collapsed in a pile of sexual bliss. Vicktor Alexander turned to the camera, winked and shifted into a wolf before running off screen, his wolf howl sounding loudly through the speakers.

~Author Vicktor Alexander

To purchase The Beginning:   The Rooster And Pig   ARE   Bookstrand   Amazon

~*~

Okay, so firstly…aaaand that was fiRstly, not fisty…‘cause this homo don’t play that, mmmkay. I’m a person, not a puppet, so keep your hands where I can see ‘em. : )

So, fiRstly, I was totally there by accident! I can sense that your doubting the sincerity of that last statement, but I’m not lying, I swear! Not that I have anything against the BDSM, mind you. I’ve never tried it, so I refuse to knock it. That being said, it’s always seemed a little high maintenance, you know? A lot of setting up and tearing down…unless you happen to have one of those handy dungeons where everything can remain set up. But even then, there’s still gotta be a lot of clean-up, right? I mean, all those ‘toys’ that are used to slap, smack and get stuck up people butts have to make a sizeable dent in a dude’s sanitization budget.

It’s probably not the best fit for the guy who likes to screw on-the-go is all I’m saying. Not that I think you need all of the accoutrements in order to get your BDSM on – no reason people can’t MacGyver it and make do with what’s in the cupboard at home. Surely Martha would approve, no? : )

Anywho, I’m not the boy most likely to frequent the local BDSM club since I’m probably not going to partake in the shenanigans. I get antsy and start freaking out when my shoes are too tight, so I can only imagine what being shackled in a sling would do to me. Plus I have a tendency to talk even more (hold the snark people) when I get nervous and I doubt most people go to the BDSM club to have a chat. That doesn’t mean I’d never attempt to pay a visit, mind you, assuming it’s okay just to watch, though I suspect wearing a gag to keep me silent might send the wrong message, huh?

~Author Ethan Day

Zombie Boyz, Guess Who’s Coming At Dinner:  Wilde City   Amazon   ARE

And Heeeeere’s the promised pic of me and my sweet new PA, William, here we are in New Orleans. (The picture is from 2011. Can you believe it?):

 

Books To Love For Valentine’s Day

In Nick’s perfect world, Valentine’s Day would be struck from the calendar. 

Nick’s dreams of a Happily Ever After were shredded long ago and the last thing he and his customers need is a bunch of happy loving couples rubbing it in their faces. 

Bouncer Fat Boy Newman is willing to bet he knows Nick’s heart better than he does. He has just six days to change Nick’s mind about romance and the holiday and the perfect man to do it. 

Too bad it’s not him. 

Too bad Nick’s not going down without a fight. 

Too bad he cheats.

 Available at Amazon   All Romance Ebooks

~*~

Bradley Parker has waited twenty years for Mr. Right, and on Valentine’s Day, he finally finds him. It’s love at first sight, and Brad even loses his virginity to the man of his dreams. But when he wakes up the next morning unable to remember anything—even what the man looked like—his best friend, Leslie, is convinced he imagined the whole thing.

Brad knows he didn’t make up the best night of his life, but he has no idea of the danger he’s putting himself in as he struggles to recall the details of his perfect man. His search may lead him to parts of New York City he never dreamed existed and a war being waged in the shadows.

Available at Amazon   All Romance Ebooks

~*~

Sometimes the thing you hate the most takes you to the love of your life.

Dire Wolf Shifter, Angel, may be the youngest of four brothers, but that doesn’t make him the stupidest. He knows that Valentine’s Day is nothing but one big joke. It’s just a way for candy and card shops to make extra money.

How does he know this?

Because there is no such thing as true love. Every man he’s met has proven this by stomping on his heart, leaving him bitter and jaded. Fellow Dire Wolf, Baily, has always had a crush on Angel, but he never acted on it. As one of Angel’s older brother’s best friends, Baily had never thought the time was right or appropriate. But as he sees Angel hurting, Baily can’t stop himself from reaching out to the younger man.

Will Baily be able to show Angel that there is such a thing as true love? Or had Angel’s heart grown too hard?

Available at Amazon   All Romance Ebooks

 

 

Author Spotlight – Heidi Cullinan

It’s no secret I’m a huge Heidi Cullinan fan. The first book of hers I read was Special Delivery so it’s my very great pleasure today to announce the re-edited, re-released version from Samhain is available!

Special Delivery features one of the most breathtaking first lines I’ve ever read:

In the deserted men’s restroom at the back of Middleton Community College, Sam Keller knelt on the tile, braced his hands against Keith Jameson’s thighs and broke his mother’s heart.

After that, the book never lets you go. Revised, re-edited and re-released, it’s still the same beautiful, complex, compelling story that made me fall in love with this author in the first place.

Heidi will capture your heart, break it a few times, tape it back together, stomp on it, and then light it on fire and melt away any of your doubts. This book is a keeper.

Great new cover! Stay tuned for Double Blind and Tough Love…

SPECIAL DELIVERY

Release date: February 4, 2014

Book One of the Special Delivery Series

When your deepest, darkest fantasy shows up, get on board.

Sam Keller knows he’ll never find the excitement he craves in Middleton, Iowa—not while he’s busting his ass in nursing school and paying rent by slaving away in a pharmacy stockroom. Then Sam meets Mitch Tedsoe, an independent, long-haul trucker who makes a delivery to a shop across the alley. Innocent flirting quickly leads to a fling, and when Mitch offers to take him on a road trip west, Sam jumps at the chance for adventure. Mitch is sexy, funny and friendly, but once they embark on their journey, something changes. One minute he’s the star of Sam’s every x-rated fantasy, the next he’s almost too much a perfect gentleman. And when they hit the Las Vegas city limit, Sam has a name to pin on Mitch’s malady: Randy.

For better or for worse, Sam grapples with the meaning of friendship, letting go, growing up—even the meaning of love—because no matter how far he travels, eventually all roads lead home.

Warning: This story contains trucker fantasies, threesomes and kinky consensual sex.

Available February 2014 from Samhain Publishing and wherever books are sold. This book has been previously published and has been revised from its original release. 

Buy links: Samhain, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads

 

Sunday Brunch Blog – 2/1/2014

Today’s Sunday Brunch Blog has been moved to next week on account of FOOTBALL! I finally got my entire family interested in watching the commercials…ER…big, important game with me, and we’re spending the morning making chili and whatever else those guys want to eat. That’s right. You heard it here. It takes massive bribes of food to make my men watch football.

Am I the only one who wants to watch the damn GAME around here???

**crickets chirping**

This weeks questions is for the readers!

What’s your Superbowl Game Day routine? Do you have special foods you like to make? Do you watch just for the commercials? Do you take the opportunity to go shopping while the mall is empty?

Or like me, do you imagine watching your heroes pull off all that dirty, sweaty equipment at the end of the day so they can grab a hot shower and get warm!!! Oh, how I wish I could offer them all a cup of hot cocoa because the game is going to be so gosh darn cold!

Stay tuned for your regularly scheduled Sunday Brunch with my author pals Next Week!!!

Guest author – LE Franks!

This is so much fun! I get to find out all the new books my friends are writing this way. I’ll be covering Valentine’s Day stories soon, but this is a new one out from my pal LE Franks, and I wanted to give her an opportunity to tell you about herself and the book!

What inspired you to become a writer?

I was an early reader—my mom was an elementary school teacher and we always had books around. By the time I was in second grade, I was creating my own stories. By high school I had a strong voice—too strong in many respects. My AP English teacher would routinely give me A+++/D to average out my work to overcome the lack of proofreading. Who needs grammar when you have words?  I stopped writing my stories down once I left school—the stories just unwound themselves in my head, often going on for months. When my daughter turned ten I decided it was time to start again. Her birthday was rather a watershed time for both of us—spent on the Eiffel Tower in Paris. It’s wonderful how one’s perspective changes from up there.

6 Days was inspired by a bartender I met at The Hard Rock Café & Casino in Albuquerque, NM while attending the 2012 GRL Retreat. My main character’s profession, a mixologist, was inspired by him—one of the drinks my MC Nick makes is the one he made me in New Mexico.

If you could co-write with any author, living or dead, who would it be? 

I currently have a co-writer who is very much alive and I need to keep her happy until we finish our shifter series…and our hot marine saga…and, well let’s just say that Sara York can be kind of scary in that sweet southern way—she’ll look you in the eyes and smile the entire time she ripping body parts off you (one of my very most favorite things about her). So discretion being the better part of valor I’d be better off with one of the great dead storytellers…like Twain—I’d happily play ‘straight’ man to his genius just to watch him ply his craft.  But let’s be real. I think there is some distilling when you open yourself and your work to a co-writer. To be successful you have to be both open and defensive.  Sometimes the most valuable thing you get, regardless of outcome of your joint project, is a deeper understanding of your own work. Sara rocks, btw.

Where is your favorite place to write?

I just hijacked 25% of our master bedroom. I’ve got a corner walled off with two tall bookcases that I can see through so I’m still connected to the world but I have plenty of privacy when I put on my headphones. I have my desk, room for a futon and all my books and resource materials at my fingertips. Huge impact on my production with an inverse effect on my husband’s sleep—we may need to buy a bigger house because I have deadlines and two more jobs to keep happy. So I’ve been doing the 4:30am to midnight schedule with writing at both ends. Apparently they haven’t invented eyeshades dark enough or earplugs quiet enough to block the sound of my typing (and swearing).

Now for the fun questions!

What plans do your previous characters have for Valentine’s Day?

Pride of The Veld:

I think that Danie, Andrea, and Geo will be having the best time of it. They’ll have ditched South Africa by then and are now soaking up the sun in Andrea’s hometown in Italy. I suspect they’ll be celebrating by experimenting with the olive oil from the family’s groves and of course, since Geo has a sweet tooth, dark chocolate will be involved.

SNOW GLOBE:

Kris and Tyr are still working things out so you can expect that Tyr will be pulling out all the stops to woo Kris. Since neither are welcome back at the only diner in town they’ll try to drive to Minneapolis for dinner. If the weather is bad you can bet they’ll snuggle in front of a warm fire and with a copy of Dark Voyager (Kris’ favorite) and The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo (Tyr’s), and Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown (Bun’s) and have movie marathon

PRODIGAL WOLF – co written with Sara York:

The guys on Hilton Head Island universally avoid Valentine’s Day. After all, wolves don’t eat chocolate—right? But in secret, there may be some tiny expressions of love for each other—just don’t call it that. For example, you’ll find Ted in the kitchen baking everyone special Almond cookies I the shape of surf boards with pink sugar icing. Joey actually vacuumed the downstairs and repaired the hole he made in the fence around the back deck from the last time he drunk shifted. And Carlo actually dropped by the pack house voluntarily and spent the day catching up on the paperwork he’d been promising Angelo he’d do for months. And Angelo? He may have just made Carlo’s favorite dish, lasagna with homemade pasta from the old alpha’s secret recipe, and if they may have sat and eaten at the same table and shared wine from the same bottle, but no one could call it a date, could they?

If your characters were at Frisson, what drink would they order?

Kris is from Los Angeles. He loves his cocktails. He wants them sweet and flirty like he is after two drinks. Tyr’s happy just ordering Kris doubles.

Joey is just happy when someone hands him a drink—it’s hard to keep a shifter metabolism tipsy and it’s the state he has the most fun in. The other day he did have a whiskey ice cream float and it was pretty good—he’ll probably bug Nick until he gives him something white and creamy.

Underage Twinks Kevin & Grady, try to sneak in and order Coronas but FatBoy spots them right off—bouncing them to a kiddy table in the restaurant—while Nick serves them Shirley temples and chicken nuggets for their trouble.

Carlo is brooding in the corner. Simone the waitress is about smack him with her tray if he doesn’t start talking soon, telling her what he wants. Angelo knows how she feels, but orders for him anyway. Someone has to be in charge. They’ll have a couple bottles of Morreti.

Which one of your characters has the biggest sweet tooth?

Without a doubt it’s Bun, Tyr’s cousin—she’s still a child at heart and in mind, and her love of all things sugary is just more proof. Sit her down with a bag of gummy worms and she’ll be happy. For a minute. Then she’ll be bugging you to take her to see Kris.

If you could have any actors play the characters from 6 Days to Valentine, who would you choose?

Davis FatBoy Newman is pretty easy- Daniel Craig from his Tomb Raider days. Nick is more of a scruffy James Franco type. Sort of a clueless smart ass with a good heart.

Excerpt:

THE DAY AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

The man on the floor was hard to ignore. If I got up now, I’d be stepping on him—not that I planned on leaving anytime soon. It wasn’t every day a man fell at your feet, much less one of the pretty ones. I wasn’t complaining—I could use the distraction. February with its faux-holiday was always my own personal hell, and this week, with the tidal wave of red and pink already threatening to swamp me, things kept getting worse. Maybe my luck was finally changing. I hoped so.

I squinted in the dim light of the bar to get a better look. His strawberry blond hair was disheveled, uncovered now that the ball cap he’d worn into the bar was resting against the chrome leg of my barstool. He stared up at me with eyes like some cartoon character from a Looney Tunes classic. Comically huge saucers of Arctic blue overwhelmed a nose too pert for a man; his rosy lips forming a perfect O of shock and surprise completed the picture as he lay stunned.

I’d watched the cap spin merrily away as he landed face-first onto the industrial-grade carpet, and winced—not in sympathy for the blow to his face, per se. No, it was due to the knowledge that FatBoy Newman had thrown up on that exact spot the previous day. I groaned as unwelcome memories of FatBoy and the events of last night flooded my mind, distracting me from the blond.

FatBoy was the newest addition to our little Frisson bar family. He’d been working the door for a couple of months, doing his job by lurking in the background and monitoring the crowds stirring each other up on weekends. One minute, he would be wallpaper, and the next, he’d be hanging out at my end of the bar, playing a nightly game of twenty questions.

Last night it was a string of questions like “Marie Claire or Vogue?” and “Barbeque Beans or Pork & Beans” or, more disturbing, “Brad Pitt or Yoda?”

Normally, I would have blown FatBoy off as I do every other asshole annoying me while I’m working; even the bouncers who like to lean on the bar and steal olives and fruit don’t linger if I’m there. FatBoy was different. He might look like a giant hick with the brains the size of a pea and a case of ’roid rage, but for all I knew, he had balls the size of an elephant. He’d need them. He’d been pressuring me for weeks to date his cousin, ever since he figured out that I’m gay, and I’d been equally absolute in my refusal. I don’t date, no matter how smoky blue your eyes are when you ask.

Not that I tried to hide my orientation—it’s just none of your damn business and not a topic of conversation I usually led with. At six two with brown hair, green eyes, and a naturally muscled build, bar patrons just assumed I was straight; keeping things pleasant and light with our mixed crowd of tourists and local party boys and girls kept the mood fun and—most importantly—the tips pouring in.

I also wasn’t such a megalomaniac that I thought everyone wanted to sleep with me—though working the bar, I got plenty of come-ons and come-hithers. Despite the occasional tumble with Juan, I hadn’t met anyone who inspired me to make the effort. If you want to know the truth, in my heart of hearts, I was a romantic; I dreamed of being swept off my feet by the “one”. In the meantime, I kept my head down, mixing my drinks and keeping my dreams and hands mostly to myself.

Despite the nightly grilling, FatBoy wouldn’t have known any different if he hadn’t walked in on my attempt to bareback Juan, our bar-back, during a very slow Saturday afternoon. I’m kidding about the barebacking. Juan is a good kid, and I’d never risk him or myself that way, and our relationship was more about convenience than romance, but FatBoy did walk into the cold room just seconds after a collision had wrapped me around Juan’s wiry body, forcing our lips together. Fortunately, our tongues took the brunt of the accident, ensuring no lasting damage to our libidos.

No, Mr. Newman can take the blame for that particular injury and the subsequent ‘failure to launch’ sequence that resulted from it. Instead of backing out like a normal person, he stayed—leaning against the frame of the door and watching us quietly until I pulled away from Juan.

“Why the fuck are you still here? Can’t you see we’re busy?” I snapped in frustration.

FatBoy didn’t respond beyond a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—though he did lean slightly out of the way as Juan slipped past him, buttoning his jeans as he went. I reached down and readjusted my own cock, sighing deeply and glaring at him while I waited.

“Soooo, Nick. Boys, huh?” he drawled, settling back into his lean.

“Not boys, men. I’m not a pedophile, asshole.” As I stomped back to the bar, I was running through a list of unpleasant scenarios I could subject the prick to before I had to see him again. I was contemplating his fall into an active volcano when I felt his eyes on my back, the same silent force field I’d felt ever since he started working here.

I whirled around. “What? What! What? Did you need something, or did your calendar say it was ‘Be a dick at work day?’ ’Cuz I have to tell you, I’ve got a serious case of blue balls going on here, and unless you plan on dropping and giving me head right here and now, I’m pretty sure there is nothing you can say or do that I’m interested in.”

I might have caught a slight glimmer in his eyes when I said that—but really, who cared? It was going to be long days of skittish looks before Juan settled down enough to overcome his exaggerated fear of discovery and be willing to risk spending more time with me in the back. Something about losing his job and making his disabled mother homeless if he got caught screwing around at work—like that would ever happen…

“Blake was asking for you. I figured you’d rather I tracked you down myself instead of sending him into the icebox after you.” FatBoy smirked and pivoted, leaving me alone with the unhappy thought that I owed him one. With a silent apology to Juan’s fears, I wound my way back to the office to check on the latest from the boss.

So best efforts of ignoring the new bouncer aside, we were now out to the six five former linebacker from Tennessee—a Vol who’d majored in French poets of the seventeenth century. You haven’t lived until you’ve listened to FatBoy recite Molière in the original French, drunk off his ass, at four in the morning, in a thick southern drawl. Despite all of that, or maybe because of it, FatBoy was a bit of a prick—a trait I usually found entertaining when directed toward someone else, but after my fobbing off all the gentle nudges and hints about his cousin, he must have decided it was time to bring out the heavy artillery and press the issue once and for all.

In this case, he used his prickdom to force me into the drinking contest. He was, after all, he said, a gentleman of the South and therefore felt obliged to offer me a game of chance rather than the outright blackmail he originally had in mind—not that I believed he’d actually risk anyone’s job. But it did make me curious.

I still wasn’t sure what was so important about finding his cousin a date. I’d said no enough times that any other musclehead would have gotten a clue and dropped it long ago. FatBoy’s cousin must have been horribly disfigured or suffering from some social disease or on parole for unspeakable acts as a minor for him to be this relentlessly annoying.

More likely, his aunt was nagging him to death—afraid her baby was going to meet a big bad leather daddy now that he liked cock; I’d heard stories. I was just lucky to be the first gay he’d met. Not that I ever had that problem with my own family—I’m not sure they noticed the last time the door hit me on my way out.

All in all, I wasn’t surprised when he finally cornered me.

Terms of the bet were simple. We would each drink at the same time until we stopped. First one to pass out or throw up lost. Winner named his prize.

The reason I thought FatBoy might have been juicing—beyond the imposing build and lack of neck—was he’d overlooked the fact that I had total control over the very medium that would determine the outcome of the bet.

Buy 6 Days To Valentine at Wilde City Press