Ethan Day's Blog, page 6

AS YOU ARE Now Available in print from MLR Press!!!

 

 

Julian gets his day in print!!! Released yesterday from MLR Press, AS YOU ARE finally has a place in paperback history! : )

Click Here to Purchase

You can see all the other great titles now available from MLR Press and their New Release Friday's here: Click Here 

Happy Reading!

June's Gay Day is here!!!

Sunday, June 12th is Gay Day at my Yahoo Group. Gay Day is the one day a month when the best authors in GLBT Romance stop by to post excerpts of their new and upcoming releases.

 

The following authors will be generously offering giveaways you can enter to win:

Elizabeth Noble – Marked Yours

C. Zampa – Candy G.

Tara Lain – Volley Balls or The Scientist and the Supermodel

S.J. Frost – Natural Instincts

Belinda McBride – A signed Uncommon Whore poster

JL Merrow – Camwolf or Sex, Lies and Edelweiss

Jambrea Jo Jones – Tell Me Now & Saddle Up 'N Ride

Alan Chin – Haji's Exile

Ariel Tachna – Choice from Backlist

Pia Veleno – Man Whore

William Neale – A New Normal

Barry Brennessel – Tinseltown

Simone Anderson – To Love Again

Serena Yates – Saving Zeke

Sebastian Blade – Redeem Me

Jaime Samms – As Advertised

Kimberly Gardner – Dressed to Thrill

Lou Harper – Hanging Loose

Angel Martinez – Boots

Charlie Cochrane – An 'I love Jonty and Orlando' T-shirt

Devon Rhodes – Stranger In Black

Z.A. Maxfield – Rhapsody For Piano And Ghost

Gale Stanley – One Night in Bangkok

&

Geoff Knight & Dare Empire is offering up FIVE books! Winners Choice of either

The Cross of Sins or Drive Shaft

 

The amazing Authors below will be popping in and out to chat & post excerpts from their latest books:

 

S.J. Frost – Black Heart Down

Alan Chin – Butterfly's Child

Willa Okati – Make a Right

Geoff Knight – Curse of the Dragon God

Lynn Lorenz – The Hearts of New Orleans Series

Charlie Cochrane – All Lessons Learned

Z.A. Maxfield – All Stirred Up

The day will run from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. CST in the Ethan Day Yahoo Group where we'll be posting excerpts, running contests for free books, and chatting about all the new and upcoming releases from your favorite authors.

 

I hope everyone will stop by to catch up with your favorite authors and join in all the fun!

Memorial Day Weekend Sale at ARe!!

 

ARe is offering a 50% Rebate on all purchases made via Paypal or Credit Card between

12:01 am on 5/28/11 and 11:59 pm on 5/30/11 (US/Central).

 

You don't wanna miss out on this! Stock up for your summer reading!!  : )

 

Ethan

 

Click Here to Visit ARe

I'm guest blogging at Jessewave's today!

I'm a little late getting this posted, but I'm blogging at Jessewave's today about Southern Decadence!

 

Here's the link:

 

http://www.reviewsbyjessewave.com/2011/05/27/southern-decadence-by-ethan-day/

 

Stop by for a bit when you have the time. : )

ALLY BLUE INTERVIEWS RICK R. REED ABOUT A DEMON INSIDE

Today the lovely and fabulous Ally Blue, author of The Bay City Paranormal Series, who I interviewed back at the beginning of the year, sat down with the sexy and talented Rick R. Reed to talk about his book, A Demon Inside. Dubbed the 'Stephen King of gay horror' by Unzipped Magazine, Rick boasts an impressive backlist that includes gay horror with a romantic edge, gay romance, and more recently, gay romantic comedy. While the genres may change, Rick's passion to explore the lives and loves of gay men within his fiction remain one constant for which we can all be grateful.

I give you Ally & Rick…

 

AB: The first thing that struck me about this book was your depiction of Hunter's grief for his grandmother — how he gets tired of the sympathy and irritated with the attention, and the numb feeling you get after a while. It was like you'd plonked yourself right down inside my brain during the days after my mom died. You described what I felt during her funeral service and afterward exactly. 

My question doesn't really relate to that, exactly, I just wanted to tell you how impressed I was with that bit Well, okay, I guess it kind of relates. It seemed to me that in a way, Hunter's grief for his grandmother set his entire adventure in motion. What do you think? How much — if any — do you think Hunter's deep grief for his grandmother played into his decisions down the road? I think it made him especially vulnerable to you-know-who…

RR: I'm so glad that my portrayal of grief resonated with you. Like you, I experienced many of the same things when my own mother died three years ago. I think the shock and pain of losing someone so close resonates not just for days or weeks, but for years afterward. The world we have become accustomed to is simply not the same place without that person in it. I wanted to portray how we experience many different things other than tears and sadness in the immediate aftermath of losing someone close to us; the experience can be exhausting and soul-draining, which is why Hunter felt irritated. And yes, I do think this loss, along with losing his parents at such a young age (and so violently) made him who he is and colored his choices as he moved forward, forced, finally, to be on his own.

AB: I thought it was interesting that while a lot of books follow hero's who are "regular guys" — or if they're rich, they're rich playboys, ha — but this book has a hero who is rich, sheltered, virginal and extremely innocent when it comes to the ways of the world. My immediate thought was that this adventure could not have happened to anyone but Hunter. Events in his life seem to push him toward Beaumont House, events that may not have happened to someone more worldly. What do you think? Would the story have been possible with a protagonist less sheltered and innocent than Hunter?

RR: I think you're right; the story is uniquely Hunter's. His innocence, naiveté, and his profound sense of loss all contributed to his making the choices he did, choices that some people may consider ill-advised or even stupid, but I think they make sense within the context of the character. Beaumont House was a terrifying place and of course he should have left sooner, but it was also a sanctuary for a wounded soul who really didn't understand the modern world that well and it also stood as a kind of metaphor for his ability to stand on his own. If he chose to flee, that would have been a smart thing to do, but in this character's mind, it would have also been a deep personal failure.

AB: To what extent do you think Beaumont House itself and the country setting became characters in their own right? I felt like they were characters of their own, in a way, especially the house. The demon-thing was a whole other story though! **shudder**

RR: I definitely think the house, with its history, its perhaps paranormal (and evil) inhabitant, and its remote location all made it a sort-of "character" in its own right. It certainly seemed to have a will of its own, and an ability to not only terrify Hunter, but also to antagonize him in many perverse and odd ways. The house and the demon were one and the same, reflections of each other. The country setting, while perhaps not a character in the same sense, did serve as an isolating factor for Hunter, making it even more problematic to leave.

AB: As I was biting my nails through the scenes of Hunter's encounters with the demon-thing (OMG that thing was HORRIFYING, argh!), I noticed the parallels between some of the ways it tortured Hunter and some of Hunter's real-life experiences. I won't say exactly what those things are, because I don't want to give spoilers *g*  But I did wonder how much of the demon-thing is created from the sufferer's mind. Not just Hunter, but those who encountered the demon before him. So, Rick, is this demon truly, objectively, observably real in real life? Is it a creation from the mind of the tormented? Is it a combination of the two? Or are we mere humans not meant to know such cosmic secrets? (yeah I'm a Lovecraft fan, so sue me; heh)

RR: Now, that's a question, as a creator, I really don't think I should answer. I deliberately left things sort of ambiguous when it came to deciding whether the horror was a real supernatural entity or if it was a manifestation of mental illness. And I also deliberately made it possible for a reader to see it both ways…almost. There are definite clues though in the book that reveal whether I think the horror was real or imagined. I will just say: Remember the photograph of the house that turned up in the beginning and then again at the end?

AB: Lastly but not leastly, what do you wish I'd asked? What do you want to tell people about Hunter, about the house, and about this book in general?

RR: I wish you had asked me how this book fit into my body of work. I have had many labels applied to my writing: horror, suspense, mystery, thriller, and increasingly, romance, and I think A DEMON INSIDE is one great example of what I am trying to do in a lot of my work, which is to merge romance with horror or the paranormal. At its heart, you could look at A DEMON INSIDE as a love story, between two men certainly, but also as a love story of the self and discovering one's own strengths and weaknesses. A DEMON INSIDE is the book I'd most recommend to ardent fans of horror and it also represents a direction I think I am moving further away from with the newer things I'm writing–I'm finding there's more and more to be said about the connections people make when falling in love–and that fascinated me. Love and terror are actually, in many ways, both physical and emotional, two sides of the same coin.

AB: I very much enjoyed reading this wonderfully scary book, and I enjoyed serving as the delightful Mr. Reed's interrogator *g*

RR: Thanks, Ally.

Click Here to Purchase Your Copy

Promotional Blurb:

Hunter Beaumont doesn't understand his grandmother's deathbed wish: "Destroy Beaumont House." He'd never even heard of the place. But after his grandmother passes and his first love betrays him, the family house in the Wisconsin woods looks like a tempting refuge. Going against his grandmother's wishes, Hunter flees to Beaumont House.

 
But will the house be the sanctuary he had hoped for? Soon after moving in, Hunter realizes he may not be alone. And who—or what—he shares the house may plunge him into a nightmare from which he may never escape. Sparks fly when he meets his handsome neighbor, a caretaker for the estate next door, but is the man salvation…or is he the source of Hunter's terror?

 

Excerpt:

It didn't take them long to round the curve of the driveway and all at once, Beaumont House stood before them. Just as Hunter had imagined, its imposing fieldstone looked solid and formidable against the bright blue autumn sky. Double oak doors, appearing in remarkably good shape, were outfitted with black wrought iron hinges and fixtures, all without a trace of rust. The windows reflected back the sky and the few clouds in it, looking almost black and empty. Hunter fancifully thought of them as eyes and shivered. Yet, not a single pane was broken or cracked. The glass did not even look dirty. He paused, staring at the house, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, but couldn't recall how he could have even seen the house before. Ian, beside him, was silent. In awe, Hunter said softly, "God, Ian, I never would have guessed."

Ian sucked in some air. "It is beautiful, isn't it? Even more than I remember."

Hunter took in more details: the roof was covered in black slate tile and again, looked in perfect repair. Black shutters fronted each of the windows. The house put Hunter in mind of what he imagined an English manor would look like and he briefly imagined red-jacketed foxhunters galloping through the grounds. There was a widow's walk around the rooftop and to one side, a rounded tower completed the imposing façade.

All of it looked move-in ready.

Hunter scratched his head and turned to Ian. "I thought you said the place was falling down."

"I assumed it was." Ian's expression revealed troubled thoughts beneath. He took in the house, eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, no one has been here for decades. The place should be in shambles, broken windows, doors off their hinges, weeds growing through the floors… Yet, it looks so well maintained." Ian paused. "I don't understand it. I took care of the property taxes for your family, but never paid out anything for upkeep. This is weird, Hunter."

Hunter didn't want to voice it, but he agreed. Aside from the overgrown vegetation outside the house, the place itself was almost pristine, as if someone still lived here, let alone not having been inhabited for more than half a century. Hunter began to wonder if all the overgrown trees and other flora could be tamed into a manageable yard and garden.

"The inside is probably a mess," Ian said, weakly.

Hunter began striding toward the house. "You do have a key, don't you? And I would withhold judgment on the interior if I were you." Hunter paused just outside the double doors, waiting for Ian to catch up. He took in the detail of the floor-to-ceiling French windows on the first floor, how each was topped with intricate designs in leaded glass.

Ian was making his way through the weeds, toward Hunter, cursing as he stumbled. "Yes. I have a key." He caught up and extracted a large, old-fashioned key from his jacket pocket, coated with rust. Hunter knew Ian could say nothing about the house, but also knew the lawyer would not deterred. "How do you propose to cut through all this?" He gestured at the trees and briars choking the lawn and driveway.

"Simple. I'm sure Wisconsin has a good supply of gardeners and landscapers, many of them, I'm sure, looking for work. They have skill. I have money. It could work. Can we go inside?"

"No guarantees this key will even fit." He came alongside Hunter and inserted the key into the lock. The doors effortlessly opened, aided by a gust of wind behind them. There was not even a creak.

Hunter was astounded. And chilled. The massive foyer, with its curving staircase up to the second floor, its crystal chandelier, its marble-tiled floor, and its mahogany paneled walls—was spotless. There was not a trace of dust or grime anywhere. The chandelier sparkled as it caught the sun's rays coming in from outside. The wood gleamed.

Hunter turned to Ian, confused. "Are you sure no one's been taking care of upkeep?"

Ian shook his head slowly, walking more fully into the foyer. Hunter lagged behind, following his gaze as he looked into the living room, or what Hunter supposed in those days had been called the drawing room. It too was perfection. The windows gleamed, spot-free, in the sun. The wood floors looked freshly polished. The large fieldstone fireplace—a focal point—appeared to have been freshly swept, with a stack of logs on the grate inside, awaiting the touch of a flame.

"I have never authorized a payment for upkeep. Not in all the years I've been responsible for your family's holdings."

Hunter felt a chill. "Well, someone must be taking care of the place. It couldn't just stay this way by itself."

"Indeed. But why?"

Hunter would have liked to tell Ian not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the truth was, he too was as disturbed by the appearance of the house as Ian seemed to be. Delightful and pristine as the place was, it simply wasn't—natural.

"I have no idea." Ian turned to Hunter. "This is giving me the creeps."

Hunter would not admit he was having a similar reaction. It would be all Ian needed to hear, enough for him to urge Hunter back into the car. "Who knows? Maybe there's some neat freak in the village who comes by and takes out his obsession on the house."

"That would give me the creeps as well." Ian turned, his gaze roaming across the drawing room and foyer. He looked pale. "This sounds completely strange and I hope you'll forgive me, but I don't want to stay here anymore. My suggestion is we both go outside, get in the car, and head back to the city. On Monday, I will make arrangements for a demolition crew to come in and tear down the place. Then we can see about selling off the land." Ian looked to Hunter, hoping, Hunter thought, for agreement.

"I want to see the rest of it. We came all this way."

"That's your right," Ian said softly. "But I don't want to stay here anymore. I'll be in the car when you're finished." He strode quickly toward the front doors, which still hung open.

Hunter watched him go, wanting to call him back. Ian paused, just outside the door and turned around. "Be careful. And be mindful that you may spend your trust fund allowance heating this place, lest you be entertaining any thoughts of moving in." And then he was gone.

Hunter swallowed, standing in the middle of the drawing room. Fingers of dread played up and down his spine. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck. It wasn't just the perfection of the place that made him feel so odd, it was another sensation, one he was just now becoming aware of.

He was being watched.

© Copyright 2010 Rick R. Reed

Click Here to Purchase Your Copy

GayRomLit's First Ever Author & Book Bonanza!!!

On Sunday, May 1st, the first official festivities of the GayRomLit Retreat get under way as many of the participating authors gather together in the Chatting with Joyfully Reviewed Yahoo Group where we'll be posting excerpts, running contests for free books, and chatting about all the new and upcoming releases from your favorite authors.

Organizers will be on hand to talk about the Retreat, which is being held in New Orleans, October 13-16, 2011. Reader registration will only remain open until June 15th, so don't wait! Stop by OUR WEBSITE for more information or to reserve your spot.

The thirty-six authors listed below will be participating in Sunday's chat and have generously offered up the following e-books as giveaways which you can enter for a chance to win!!

WILLIAM NEALE – HOME ~ CAROL LYNNE – SPRING

RICK R. REED – HOW I MET MY MAN & HOMECOMING

PD SINGER – CROSS THE MOUNTAIN ~ MARIE SEXTON – PROMISES

HEIDI CULLINAN – THE SEVENTH VEIL

KATE MCMURRAY – THE BOY NEXT DOOR

JP BARNABY – ENLIGHTENED ~ KC BURN – SPICE 'N' SOLACE

BELINDA MCBRIDE – BLACK WOLF ~ AMBER KELL – KEVIN'S ALPHA

TD MCKINNEY – PAXTON'S WINTER ~ KIERNAN KELLY – CORNFED

ROWAN SPEEDWELL – KINDRED HEARTS

EM LYNLEY – EMERALD ~ ETHAN DAY – CHOICE FROM BACKLIST

EDEN WINTERS – SETTLING THE SCORE

BRYL R. TYNE – FORSAKEN & TOUGH GUY

VIOLET SUMMERS –

BRITA ADDAMS – SPLENDID CAPTIVITY & LOVE IMMORTAL

SIMONE ANDERSON – TO LOVE AGAIN ~ AMBER GREEN – TURNCOAT

LYDIA NYX – FROM MOROCCO TO PARIS ~ MISSY WELCH – KLT23

DC JURIS – WHAT THE LADY WANTS & NO PLACE LIKE HOME

DAMON SUEDE – HOT HEAD ~ VJ SUMMERS – UNDER THE INFLUENCE

CLARE LONDON – CHOICE FROM BACKLIST

ANGELIA SPARROW – HOWL AT THE MISTLETOE

JAIME SAMMS – FIX THIS, SIR ~ JAMBREA JO JONES – TELL ME NOW

TREVA HARTE – MAXXED OUT ~ TRINA LANE – IN DREAMS HE CAME

TD MCKINNEY & TERRY WYLIS – PORTRAIT OF A KISS

JP BOWIE – BLOOD LURE & TRIP OF A LIFETIME

LYNN LORENZ – ROUGAROUX SOCIAL CLUB

In addition you'll be treated to excerpts from some of the latest releases like the ones provided by the following authors!

WILLIAM NEALE – A NEW NORMAL ~ TC BLUE – MANDARIN ORANGE

ANGELIA SPARROW – SWIMMING THROUGH THE NET

CLARE LONDON – THE TOURIST ~ BRYL R TYNE – AT DAY'S END

TRINA LANE – THE PERFECT BALANCE ~ BARRY BRENNESSEL – TINSELTOWN

CAROL LYNNE – CRIMSON MOON ~ PD SINGER – FALL DOWN THE MOUNTAIN

MARIE SEXTON – PARIS A TO Z  ~ BELINDA MCBRIDE – BLAQUE/BLEU

KIERNAN KELLY – A WEAPON OF OPPORTUNITY

AMANDA YOUNG – PRECIOUS ACHE

EM LYNLEY – THIEF OF HEARTS

The day will run from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. CST in the Chatting with Joyfully Reviewed Yahoo Group. I hope everyone will stop by to catch up with your favorite authors and join in all the fun!

Can't wait to see you there!

J.P. Bowie * Ethan Day * Lynn Lorenz * Carol Lynne * Amanda Young

Jealous…again!

I've been a little lax on my blogging lately, mainly due to the fact that I'm trying to finish a book. I never was any good with time management. Go figure, I know. I have the tendency to sucked into something and allow the rest of the world to fall away. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I like to think its part of what makes me a decent fiction writer. At least that's one of the things I tell myself so I don't have to feel bad about not keeping up with other things…like my blog. : )

So here's something both old and borrowed to make up for my shameless neglect. I've added the something blue via visual aids, though I'm not sure why I have wedding themed nonsense rattling around in my brain. Considering the subject matter of the post is Jealousy, it's hardly themed appropriate, but then again neither am I most of the time so perhaps it fits just fine.

 

 

Jealousy…why do you have to bother me?

Now I'll be the first to admit I'm far from perfect, but I have never suffered from nor understood this particularly annoying emotion.  Perhaps there's someone out there who can make me understand, but I suggest you come fully prepared to go to the mat along with a sales pitch unlike any other.

I've fallen for an unavailable man or two over the years and been envious of the person they were with, but I've never gone Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs over it.  I don't burst a blood vessel if I catch the guy I'm with checking out another man…he might catch me at some point and then what?  Those damn glass houses!

Before we continue I do feel I should also state that the first part of the following story all took place back in my early twenties.  I'm much nicer than I used to be.  Back in those days, the old me might have done something evil such as drink too much vodka, hop up onto the roof of someone's car while pointing at random guys and declaring, "I'd fuck you and you…"  True – that in itself was really only embarrassing to me, but I unfortunately decided to also point at other guys while declaring, "I would soooo NOT fuck you or you…"  Yeah…I was a real sweet heart in those days.

My first real experience with the green eyed monster didn't actually involve me personally, so to speak.  I know already that I'm going to get some unkind comments over this, but what the hell.  All I have to say is, unless YOUR  roommate comes home from a weekend trip to a hair show in Nashville with a complete stranger in tow, declaring they've fallen in love while moving this perfect stranger into your home…you aren't allowed to bitch at me.  Now that I've hopefully built up a little sympathy for myself…stranger guy also happened to have Tourette's.

I was a little surprised by how much I instantly disliked this man.  To be fair, my BFF's twitchy boy toy was not very friendly either.  I'm sure he'd been made fun all his life and perhaps that made him a little anger ball, because he was certainly never going to win Miss Congeniality.  I know it's not PC and I realize he couldn't help himself, but it's very frustrating when you're lounging on the couch trying to enjoy your favorite TV show while some dude you never intended on living with is sitting on the floor bumping the back of his head into the sofa and muttering, shit…shit…shit…periodically.  Pretty soon, you too might feel your own sanity slip as your normally Walt Disney-like personality slowly begins to get all Tim Burtony, while you imagine yourself picking up the table lamp sitting next to you and smashing him over the head with it.  Granted…I now know it was actually my roomie who deserved to be bludgeoned, but hindsight and all…you know.

Their relationship was tumultuous at best, and wound up only lasting a few months.  I was witness to things in that short amount of time, well…ever seen War of the Roses?  I'd never seen behavior like that, coming from my don't-ask-don't-tell family background.  The accusations of indiscretions, declarations of love, and instantaneous assumptions of guilt were enough to make me swear, *channeling Scarlett O'Hara clutching a handful of dirt*  "As God as my witness, I shall never date crazy as long as I live."

Something I also hadn't learned at the tender and impressionable young age of twenty one…never say never.  It wasn't long after their break-up that my BFF and I became Frenemies – apparently my lack of support during their relationship was unforgivable.

I used to think jealous people were just drama junkies, until I found myself dating one.  In my defense, he wasn't like the jealous people I'd known in the past.  He totally flew under the 'crazy' radar.  In his defense, he told me he was prone to jealousy when we started dating.  He was quiet and sweet…downright loving.  Not only was he interested in me, but he was very curious about my writing as well.  I thought I'd won the man-lotto, cause on top of his seemingly mature and manly demeanor, the sex was also fantastic.  I scoffed at his declarations of being a jealous man.  He was way to level-headed for such non-sense…plus I knew I'd never give him reason to be.

For several months I was walking around in a haze…seconds away from a sugary-sweet diabetic love-coma.  Then, it stopped.  He vanished!  I left a few messages and then stopped myself.  After all, (insert sassy head bobbing here) I was certainly not going to beg.  He finally did call, though.  When we met up to discuss, to his credit, he was completely honest.  I'd given him a rough draft of a book I'd been writing, the soon to be released, Dreaming of You.  He informed me that he'd stopped calling because the imaginary 'dream man' character in my fictional novel was nothing like him.  I kid you not, folks…not even I could make this shit up.  The man was jealous of my imagination!

While I did appreciate his honesty…I was also carefully sliding the silverware sitting on the table we were occupying away from him.  In the end, I of course had to jump off the express train to Crackertown, but I still to this day have never understood jealousy.  If there's anyone out there who can suss this one out for me, I'm all ears.

Ethan Day Interviews Josh Lanyon about Somebody Killed His Editor

We are here today talking with the Grand Poobah of gay infused mystery & mayhem, author extraordinaire…Josh Lanyon. He was kind enough to answer a few of my questions about Somebody Killed His Editor, the first book in his Holmes and Moriarity mystery series. As one of those unfortunate souls still grieving over the loss of Adrien, I will now admit that this book made for a giant step in my wound-licking recovery. It has everything any smart-mouthed little homosexual, such as myself, could ever want – a murderously yummy and delicious libation that was equal parts The Thin Man & His Girl Friday mixed with a dash of the back stabbing bitchery of All About Eve. I started to go back and add the word, 'gay' to that last sentence before deciding that was pretty well implied. : )

Ethan: One of the most interesting aspects of the book was that you set it within the confines of a murder mystery lit retreat – for who else other than those who write about it day in and day out could be so blasé about the fact that someone was knocking off attendees. It allowed for an infusion of wickedly funny humor which as you may have guessed, is something I particularly enjoyed. While I initially suspected you were merely attempting to make me happy…I decided to go ahead and ask all the same. Did you set out wanting to mix murder with laughs or was that something that fell into place naturally after creating all the who's that wound up populating your who-done-it?

Josh: Hey there, Ethan. Thanks very much for having me on the blog. This is such a treat. SKHE was my first deliberate attempt to write "funny." Meaning that the situations and the characters' responses were intended to be larger than life and hopefully amusing. You know, as opposed to the hard-hitting strict realism of my other crime fiction.

Ethan: I must say how much I enjoyed Christopher. He's a little bitter, stinging from the loss of a long-term relationship which sounded just awful whenever he described it. Yet he still longs for it in a strange way – I loved that juxtaposition – that something was better than nothing. He's none too happy to be forty, as if all but ringing his own death knell…the end is nigh. His professional life is tumbling down around him thanks to the waning popularity of his long running Miss Butterwith series, about a little old lady who solves mysteries with her cat. That right there was enough to get me laughing as the Angela Lansbury wisecracks began lining up inside my head. If you could, talk to us a little bit about where he came from? Were there any particular inspirations for this guy? And what, if any, experiences did you pull from your own life that made it into this lovably sarcastic, mass of yummy goodness?

Josh: I'm glad that you found Christopher's dilemma funny because it would be easy to veer into bleakness–I had to watch for that all the time. That, though Christopher's pain was real, he stayed entertaining. I think his situation is all too common, though maybe not in m/m fiction. The hard thing about the odometer flipping over isn't so much the wear and tear on the tires as the realization that you haven't traveled nearly as far or as fast as you expected. The forties are often a huge time of change. I have so many friends dealing with health issues, changing jobs, changing partners — and facing the fact that they're not going to be who they always wanted to be when they grew up.

Ethan: Another thing I truly enjoyed about Editor was the way you used the setting – tweaking the whole 'locked room' sub-genre in a way that opened up the story a bit by allowing for multiple changes in the scenery, while still leaving that sense of helplessness that accompanied being stranded in a remote location with a murderer. It gave the story a claustrophobic feel yet made more a much more cinematic back drop. I'm not a writer of mysteries, but I assume just like each of your characters, in the case of Editor, the setting became every bit as important. Talk to us a little about that decision, especially with regard to this being the first book in a series. Were you even planning this to be a series from the beginning, and if so do you plan on using this same formula for each book?

Josh: Yep, this was intended as a series from the first. I knew it would give me a venue to bitch about publishing and aging and the difficulty of building a life with someone when you're no longer a kid and you're sort of set in your ways. I hope most readers will find the mysteries competently executed, but each one is a play on beloved mystery trope. All She Wrote is a classic Manor House Mystery (except with Kit at the helm, it goes in screwy directions). The settings are crucial to the fun.

Ethan: You've also utilized one of my all time favorite themes with Editor, which is having Mr. Macho be the one clamoring for commitment while our lovably neurotic hero seems to be forever trying to wriggle out of it. At times, getting pinned down by the love of his life has Christopher more nervous than anything else. I love it when the guy who'd normally be the one everyone else was trying to land, becomes the one struggling to get what he wants the most. Was this type of role reversal an intentional choice or did it just come about naturally once you knew who your characters were?

Josh: I wanted to do something very different from the Adrien English series–something different from anything I'd done so far. I think making J.X. younger than Christopher was one of my better impulses because it gives him a vulnerability he might not otherwise have. Though he's more practical and experienced in a lot of ways, when it comes to their relationship, J.X. is the idealistic and romantic one.

Ethan: I absolutely love J.X.! The bantering between he and Christopher is the kinda stuff I live for. I've always thought a good banter was the best kind of foreplay. And J.X.'s success and enlarged ego makes for a perfect foil to Christopher's contrasting fear and bitterness over the way his life has turned out. J.X. is the all around good guy, the boy next door turned literary rock star. I love that the beyond the lust and sex there's also jealousy over the fact his best selling, full-throttle crime novels are now more popular than poor Miss Butterwith. It's nice when two men can still want each other while remaining competitive with regard to who's got the biggest…career. It's so much fun to watch that dynamic unfold. I've been in love with all my characters while writing their stories, but with some I've known from the beginning it was going to be a one picture deal. Others I could feel that a sequel had to be done. So I have to ask. Why these two guys for a new series? It's a very real commitment of time as an author. What was about them that made you realize you'd want to spend so much time with them?

Josh: Well, I knew it was time to bring the Adrien English series to a close. Er, a hiatus. So I knew I'd have room in my schedule for another series, and one thing I kept hearing from readers was that they wanted to see Adrien and Jake continue on solving crimes together. The AE series wasn't really that kind of thing, but I knew I could do that with a story where the romantic subplot revolved around two guys trying to build a life together, but there needed to be enough genuine differences and conflicts and complications to make that story interesting.

As you say, with the majority of stories we write, even if we don't wrap up the ending with ribbons and bows, the story is basically resolved. With J.X. and Kit I knew they might have a believably bumpy road, but not so bumpy that the story couldn't be a lot of fun and very romantic.

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BLURB:
The road back to bestsellerdom can be deadly.

Thanks to an elderly spinster sleuth and her ingenious cat, Christopher Holmes
has enjoyed a celebrated career as a bestselling mystery writer. Until now.
Sales are down and his new editor is allergic to geriatric gumshoes.

On the advice of his agent, he reinvents his fortyish, frumpy, recently dumped
self into the sleek, sexy image of a literary lion, and heads for a Northern
California writers conference to try and resurrect his career. A career nearly
as dead as the body he stumbles over in the woods.

In a weirdly déjà vu replay of one of his own novels, he finds himself stranded
in an isolated lodge full of frightened women—and not a lawman in sight. Except
for J.X. Moriarity, former cop and bestselling novelist. The man with whom he
shared a one-night stand—okay, maybe three—long ago. The man who wants to arrest him for murder.

Someone was howling—a thin, breathless cry that was, in fact, more breath than cry.

Me.

Far from splitting the night, my bleat barely carried three feet, so I had no trouble hearing my attacker's exasperated, "What. The. Fuck?"

I knew that voice.

I bit off the rest of my screech and sat up, wincing as pain shot up my spine. I was sitting in a puddle, ice-cold water soaking through my trousers. The last time I remembered being decked had been a playground rumble at Our Holy Mother. I'd been thirteen. My bounce had been better back then. Now I felt like I'd wrenched every muscle in my already worn-out body. And my back…I'd be lucky if I wasn't crippled for a month. I wiped the mud off my face.

"I am so going to sue your ass," I spluttered.

"Well, what the hell are you doing out here?" J.X. demanded.

No apology seemed forthcoming. Also, I couldn't help noticing, neither was help from the lodge. Were we too far away to be heard? Not a happy thought.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm going to my cabin."

"Crawling on your hands and knees?"

"I wasn't on my hands and knees till you knocked me down."

"You sure as hell were skulking in the bushes."

"I heard something—you—and I was making sure it was safe."

He continued to stare down at me. I wished I could see his face. His motionless outline caused my scalp to prickle. Then he reached down a hand.

His hand was warm on my chilled one. Again I was aware of his wiry strength. He wasn't much taller than me, but he was in a hell of a lot better shape. He pulled me to my feet and dropped my hand.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked, uneasily rubbing the twinging small of my back.

"Grabbing a log for my fireplace." He reached past me and picked up a nice stout sawed-off limb. "It's going to be a cold night." He picked up another log. "Here's one for you."

"Thanks." I stepped out of range, trying not to be too obvious about it. Not that I didn't appreciate the gesture, but there was something unconvincing in his manner. What had he been looking for out here?

J.X. still held out the log. I took it gingerly.

"I'll see you to your cabin."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." I remembered my minibar set up. "Hang on."

I limped back to where I'd set down the tray. Everything was as I'd left it. I lifted the tray and nearly dropped it. J.X. stood right behind me, log in hand.

I managed to save the gin. The tonic water, ice bucket and glass slid off the tray and landed in the mud.

"What is it with you?" I demanded and thrust the log and the tray at him. I knelt, gathering up the fizzing bottle and glass. The scattered ice cubes winked dully in the pallid moonlight.

"What the hell is this about?" J.X. indicated the tray.

"What the hell does it look like? I'm planning to drown my sorrows."

"That's not going to solve anything."

"I'm not trying to solve anything." I added pointedly, "I'll leave that to the experts."

"It's your head," he said. "Come on." He put his hand under my arm as I started to rise, and I nearly lost the entire load again.

"Do you mind?"

"Sorry. Jesus, you're jumpy."

"I can't imagine why." I rebalanced and set off—limping—down the path.

"Do you really have a bad back?" he asked, behind me.

"No, it's just something I say to get chicks."

He didn't respond, but as we reached the edge of the meadow, he caught me up so that we were walking side by side. "This way."

I followed him down the dirt path that cut across the open field toward the cabins. The sodden clouds had parted and a lackluster moon gilded everything in unnatural light. In the absence of the rain and wind, the stillness seemed uncanny.

© Copyright 2009 Josh Lanyon

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Author in Spotlight – J.P. Bowie

J.P. Bowie was born and raised in Aberdeen, Scotland. He wrote his first (unpublished) novel at the age of 14 – a science fiction tale of brawny men and brawnier women that made him a little suspect in the eyes of his family for a while.

  Leaving home at age eighteen for the bright lights of London, he found himself in the midst of a "diverse and creative crowd" that eventually led him to the performing arts. For the next twelve years he sang, danced and acted his way around the theatres of London and the provinces, appearing in shows with many famous British singers, actors and comedians. He immigrated to the US and made his home in Las Vegas, working for that illustrious duo, Siegfried and Roy.

  J.P. wrote his first gay mystery in 2000, and after having it rejected by every publisher in the universe, he opted to put his money where his mouth is and self published A Portrait of Phillip. Now several books, short stories and novellas later, he is writing m/m erotica almost exclusively. J.P.'s favorite singer is Ella Fitzgerald, and his favorite man is Phil, his partner of 15 years.

 

J.P.'s Links

website

blog

facebook

goodreads

 

*Bonus Question & Answer from my 5.4.8×5 Interview with

J.P. Bowie about his book – Nowhere to Hide

Ethan: You rode a fine line in several spots, threatening to, yet never tripping over the line into a bondage/torture scenario. There were even a few foiled almost's that never quite made it there. It made me wonder if at any point during the writing of this book, were you at all tempted to cross that line?

JP: Okay, I am not a big fan of hardcore bondage. I did at one point consider putting Mark in danger of just that, but personally I prefer the scent of danger, rather than the physical aspect of it. No gain from pain, say I!

Read the full interview HERE

 

 

The latest in Man-on-Man Romance from J.P. Bowie

 

In a time when vampires have gained civil rights and walk freely among humans, they must still overcome the factions who seek to take away those rights and return them to the role of the hated, and hunted.

Rob Lydell employed by Blood Relations, a philanthropic group of wealthy businessmen, is asked to negotiate a meeting with Gabriel Torrance, a powerful vampire. The object of the meeting is to improve relationships between humans and vampires, who have recently gained civil liberties.

Rob and Gabriel form a close relationship of their own, but not everyone is happy about vampire civil rights and Rob soon finds himself the target of attacks and threats, while the violence against vampires by members of so-called staker gangs increases.

As Rob and Gabriel's blood bond grows, they are startled to discover that the biggest danger they have to face may come from a power play within Blood Relations itself, not to mention some members of the Vampire Council who still regard humans as prey, rather than equals.

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When Peter Brandon, a gifted young artist awakens from a coma of three years, he learns that his lover, Phillip, was brutally murdered and no one brought to justice for the crime. With the help of Andrew Connor, his physical therapist, he slowly regains his strength, but it is not until he visits Phllip's graveside and receives an affirmation that his dead lover is somehow guiding him to the truth, that he feels the need to get on with his life.

Through mutual friends, he meets Jeff Stevens, an ex-cop now a PI, and together they discover that Phillip was not the victim of a random gay-bashing, but of a deliberate act to silence him. They unravel a web of lies, deceit and a friend's treachery. During their investigation, Peter and Jeff find a mutual attraction for each other, a situation that is thrown into jeopardy in their final face off with Phillip's killer.

A prequel to the Nick Fallon Investigations series but can be read as a stand alone.

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Book six in the My Vampire and I Series

Jared Lantos and Andrew Berés two vampires, once lovers, now foes, struggle to find love and forgiveness while battling those who would keep them from ever trusting one another again.

While awaiting to be tried for the murder of a fellow vampire, Jared Lantos meets Joey Ryan, a young mortal, and is immediately drawn to him. Despite his conviction that the life of a loner is what he craves, Jared finds himself falling in love with Joey. The loving bond between Jared and Joey is strengthened when Jared cures Joey's father of his dementia.

Meanwhile, Andrew discovers that the accusation of murder he'd brought against Jared was false, and seeks forgiveness from his one time lover. While in LA, Andrew chooses Tommy Cordain, a young fireman, to satisfy his need for blood, but against his better judgment, he is unable to forget the attractive young man. When the real murderer targets Andrew for the final death by setting fire to the hotel where Andrew is staying, Tommy rescues him, and Andrew is forced to have him remember their shared night of passion.

Believing they know who the real murderer is, Jared and Andrew confront the person, but the truth when revealed, is even more terrible, and could threaten the lives of their friends and lovers.

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J.P Bowie Interviews Claire Thompson about Cowboy Poet

Today I'm debuting the very first guest interview in this series, which was conducted by J.P. Bowie, who I spoke to a few weeks back about his book, Nowhere to Hide. You can find that post HERE. For now I'll you leave you to find out more about Cowboy Poet!

Ethan

COWBOY POET BY CLAIRE THOMPSON:

Tyler Sutton can run all he wants from his past, but he's still got himself to contend with. Clint Darrow, the foreman on a West Texas bull ranch, hides his dominant sensual nature behind the laconic, quiet persona of a true Texas cowboy. When Tyler meets Clint, the sexy cowboy senses Tyler's need for sensual surrender. Together they fire his dark submissive dreams into a flame of reality.

JP: When you set out to write this story, had you been researching cowboy poets? I mean, I didn't even know there was such a person (s).

Claire: I did, actually! My beta reader came across the term, I do believe (she is AMAZING with ideas!) and I started researching it and we thought, hey, that would be a cool idea for a story. A cowboy out in West Texas who is a poet at heart, with lots of secrets and poetic dreams… I did research the background of the genre (it's been around since there have been cowboys, but sort of died out in the 1940s, but there was a resurgence in the 80s, with festivals and contests springing up in local bars and larger venues all over the country. Today it's alive and well. Here's a link for readers curious to learn more. http://www.cowboypoetry.com/rmwhatis.htm#Brief

JP: Talking about research, how do you know so much about bull sperm?

Claire: The sum total of what I know is found in the novel! Hurrah for the Internet! I wanted to add an interesting plot diversion (or Macguffin, http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/macguffin, if you want to use the technical term), so the theft of something valuable on a cattle ranch made me think of sperm. Go figure…

JP: You put a lot of emphasis on the difference between consensual BDSM and one person being overly dominant, or the other being too submissive. Can you expand on the fine line that you draw here?

Claire: I wouldn't say the line if fine. I'd say it's big and fat! A consensual D/s (Dominance and submission) relationship is a love connection, pure and simple. Yes, there may be, uh, unusual kinks in that connection, but at its heart, it's a way of sharing and expressing love and attraction. Unfortunately, there are those out there who use the guise of BDSM to be bullies—to mask or subvert their own fear, hatred or self-loathing by lording it over someone either weaker than themselves, or someone who is searching for a D/s connection, but doesn't really know that that entails. I have woven this theme into a number of my BDSM novels. Especially for the non-initiated, there is a lot of confusion about consensual, erotic BDSM versus abuse. One has as much to do with the other as a kiss versus a sock in the jaw.

JP: It's made clear that Tyler is into pain, craves it as part of his sexual release. How common is this among those in the BDSM scene?

Claire: I'd say it's very common indeed. In fact, my personal view is there are very few actually submissives—that is, they truly and only want to 'serve and submit' to another. There are certainly aspects of that in BDSM, but remember too what BDSM stands for. The M is for masochism, and it's a very specific masochism, that is, seeking and finding pleasure through erotic pain. Pain is a misnomer in this case, or rather, it evolves into something different – a fusing of pleasure and pain, if you will, that transcends any erotic experience I can think of (I bet you can guess how I'm hardwired along the BDSM continuum, huh?)

JP: Um…yeah…When you finish a story like The Cowboy Poet are you tempted to continue the main characters' stories in another book?

Claire: NO. I am not. I get done with a novel, and I'm like, PHEW! I'm done! But sometimes…after a while, a month or even a year, if the characters have continued to whisper in my psyche, and if enough readers have said, Hey! Where the heck is the rest of this dude's story!, then I might give in and have a go at a sequel. But not too often. I've written over 50 novels, and the sequels can be counted on one hand. I like to move on! (I have a very short attention span. Luckily I type fast, so I can get through the story before my brain has moved on to something else!)

JP: Thanks Claire—we must do this again sometime!

Claire: Hey, this was fun. The questions were unique and original and I had lots of fun answering!

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Excerpt from Cowboy Poet:

The door opened onto a tack room, the warm smells of saddle leather and damp straw causing a sudden, sharp pain of longing for his own horse, left behind at the Double S. Beyond the room were the stables, and, as promised, a basket of carrots stood at the ready.

Taking two, Tyler headed toward the horses, one with a mahogany coat and black mane who stood regal as a king. Tyler offered the dark horse a carrot, which he accepted as his due. The other, a dappled gray, was pawing the ground nervously and tossing her mane, her large eyes rolling.

"Hey there," Tyler said softly. "You must be Gracie." He moved slowly toward her, his voice low and soft. "I know how you feel, Gracie. It's scary sometimes, the things we don't understand. But it's just thunder. Clouds bumping. Nothing to be afraid of, here all cozy in this nice dry stable." He reached toward her with a gentle hand, lightly touching her forehead with his finger, which he moved in a slow, easy circle. Gracie lowered her head, snuffling softly as she accepted the offered carrot.

"That's true, what you said." Tyler heard Clint behind him but didn't turn around. He continued to stroke the horse's velvet-soft head. "It's scary sometimes, the things we don't understand."

Tyler didn't reply. Clint continued. "Us cowboys, we grow up with this code, pounded into us from the moment we're born. You gotta be tough. To be vulnerable, to need another person, is seen to be weak, and no self-respectin' cowboy wants to be seen as weak. The way I see it, you and me, we was born with the deck stacked against us, seein' as we're already what you might call sexual outlaws—hankerin' after our own kind instead of the opposite sex. For you it's even tougher, at least on the surface, than for me. Because you've got this desire—this need—to submit to another person and to belong to him deeper than most folks will ever understand."

"I don't—" Tyler whirled toward Clint, ready to protest, but Clint silenced him with a hand and a word.

"Hush. Hear me out, Ty. Just listen for a little while, then you can tell me all the reasons I'm wrong."

Tyler turned back toward Gracie, who nuzzled her soft nose against his hand. Fine. He'd let Clint talk, then he'd set him straight.

"I've been payin' attention, Tyler. I know what makes you hot. I know what you need, maybe even better than you do at this point. But I also understand that it ain't somethin' that comes easy for a strong man.

"I think maybe you got the notion that what attracts you somehow makes you somethin' less than a man. The power you have in the situation is in your willingness to trust yourself and your judgment of the man you choose to give yourself to."

Tyler turned toward him. "Those are fine words, but I've been down this path before. I thought it was what I wanted—what I," he hesitated, stumbling over the word, "…needed, but I was just fooling myself."

He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to let that whole horrible mess come washing back over him like a mudslide. "Something's twisted inside me—something that yearns to be used rough and taken hard. But that doesn't mean a man has the right to humiliate me or take what isn't freely given."

Clint stepped behind him, and strong arms encircled him. Clint rested his head lightly against Tyler's back. "You been hurt, Tyler. Sounds to me like some kind of bully got ahold of you and took advantage of your nature. I'm right sorry that happened to you, but it's got nothin' to do with what you and I are sharin' right now. You ain't twisted and there's nothin' wrong with you. Let go of whatever shame it is you're holdin' onto. Shame's like a rock, Ty. It weighs you down. Toss it away now—you don't need it no more. Not with me."

Clint lifted his head and kissed the back of Tyler's neck, causing all kinds of mixed emotions to course through him. "As for me," Clint continued. "I don't hold much truck with any kind of disrespect. For me it ain't about one person usin' the other, or takin' what he wants 'cause he can. It's about connection. It's about trust. And trust can't be demanded. It's got to be earned."

Clint pulled Tyler toward him. "Now come on, the rain's let up and Gracie's fine. Come on back with me to the bunkhouse and I'll show you what I mean. If you can trust me, Tyler, I can help you get back that spark I know still burns inside you. I've got a single tail whip that will show you more than a thousand words could tell you."

Tyler followed Clint back into the bunkhouse, his mind still rebelling, but his body ready, willing and eager. A single tail whip! Unbidden, unwelcome, the memory of Wayne with the riding quirt in his hand as he held Tyler against the wall, his pants around his knees, burst into Tyler's mind. He'd nearly come just from the feel of the stinging leather raining over his body, something which had confused and upset him at the time.

How humiliated he'd been when, after the whipping, Wayne had jerked him around and pushed him to his knees. He'd nearly come from that whipping, but as usual Wayne had stopped too soon, too intent on having Tyler suck him off to pay attention to Tyler's reactions.

The whip, Tyler came to realize later, much later when he'd escaped Wayne's corrosive control, was merely a tool for Wayne. It was a way to get himself hard, and make himself feel superior. There was none of this poetry and connection Clint had hinted about. None of the passion and sweetness they'd shared the night before.

With Wayne, all too often Tyler had been left aching and on the edge, somehow certain there was more—there had to be more—and yet nearly always feeling as if the rug had been yanked from under him just before he'd achieved what his body and soul seemed to crave.

And yet even that, he was still ashamed to admit, was better than nothing. More than a lonely man who yearned for things he didn't understand could hope to find on a solitary horse ranch in the middle of West Nowhere. And so he'd stayed with Wayne, for far longer than he should have. Would he be there still, if Wayne hadn't forced the issue?

© Copyright 2010 Claire Thompson

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