Andrew Grey's Blog, page 23

Video Reading of In Search of a Story

Hello all.  While I was at BEA I did a video reading of In Search of a Story.  I'm trying something new and thought this might be interesting.  I hope you enjoy it.

Mistress Anya Awarded In Search of a Story 5 Drops and a Recommended Read

In Search of a Story is out and getting wonderful reviews from both the sites and individual readers. I’m so pleased the story seems to be touching hearts.

The writing was, well, it’s Andrew Grey so it caught me from the very beginning. The characters, and not just he MCs, were well developed and endearing (yes, even the nasty ones were needed). The situations, sadly, were all to real, but passionately shared. Whether it was sex (OMG *sigh*) or loss and tears, Andrew truly out did himself with In Search of a Story.

Read the entire review: http://apmassie.com/5-drops-review-in-search-of-a-story-by-andrew-grey/

Purchase a copy: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3825&osCsid=sttrcg4u002nqk8d2p0gfg3fo7

5 Stars for In Search of a Story

5 Stars from The Paranormal Romance Guild for In Search of a Story

“Mr. Grey has a way of telling a story that immediately grabs your attention, pulling you in from the first sentence and holding you until the very end.   His characters are real people, just ordinary folks living their lives with the same pain and joy that we all live with, their stories worm their ways into our hearts and we  forget they are characters and think of them as our friends.   Brad and Cory soon became men I wanted to get to know, I cheered and cried for them and hoped for the best for them.”

Read the entire review: http://www.paranormalromanceguild.com/reviewsandrewgrey.htm

5 Stars from The Paranormal Romance Guild for In Search of a Story

“Mr. Grey has a way of telling a story that immediately grabs your attention, pulling you in from the first sentence and holding you until the very end.   His characters are real people, just ordinary folks living their lives with the same pain and joy that we all live with, their stories worm their ways into our hearts and we  forget they are characters and think of them as our friends.   Brad and Cory soon became men I wanted to get to know, I cheered and cried for them and hoped for the best for them.”

Read the entire review: http://www.paranormalromanceguild.com/reviewsandrewgrey.htm

In Search of a Story Releases Tonight at Midnight

In Search of a Story releases tonight at midnight. This idea came to me partly from a session at a conference and partly because of a friend in the newspaper business. She helped me work through this idea. Thank you Hope!!!

He’s searching for a story but finds so much more.

Brad Torrence is next on the chopping block at the newspaper where he works. Hungry for any source he can find, he runs across an ad in the classifieds: For Sale: Nursery Items, Never Used. It’s the lead he’s been looking for. Thinking a piece about the loss of a child will give him the edge he needs to keep his job, Brad follows up. He doesn’t expect a single man to answer.

Rather than being offended, Cory Wolfe finds sharing the story of his grief and pain liberating. He’s even surprised by the spark that strikes, and one story leads to another.

Brad digs into his stories and Cory’s life, eager to know everything about the man who’s caught his attention. But when a lead points him to the hospital where Cory works, he unearths a mystery that might have been safer left buried. Brad’s search for a story could prove deadly….

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3825

Excerpt:

The man on his doorstep was as young as he’d sounded on the phone, with deer-in-the-headlights eyes and a nervous smile. “Hello, I’m Brad Torrence from the Crier,” he said and extended his hand. The kid looked a bit like an excited puppy.

“Cory Wolfe,” he said, and they shook hands. Cory stepped back so Brad could enter and then closed the door. He motioned toward the living room. He waited for Brad to take a seat and then he sat in his favorite leather chair.

“This is a great room,” Brad said with a touch of awe in his voice. Then he sat and waited. Cory got the impression he was waiting for something.

“You wanted to ask me some questions? I’m a little unsure why you’d want to interview me,” Cory said. “But I’ll try to help.”

“I probably should have been more clear: I was hoping to interview both you and your wife.”

Cory smiled. “Nope. It’s just me. No wife.” That simple statement sent a stab through his stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Brad said.

“Wait, let’s back up. There’s never been a wife. I think we have a misunderstanding of some kind. I’m not married and never have been,” Cory clarified. Brad became jittery, and for a second Cory thought he might hyperventilate.

“But the ad…,” Brad said.

“Yes. Like I said, I never had a wife, but I was getting ready to have a baby,” Cory said. “I had a partner a few years ago, but he wasn’t interested in children, though I was. That and, well, other things, doomed the relationship….”

Brad smiled and opened the notebook he’d brought, appearing distinctly more relaxed.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me questions?” Cory asked.

“I can,” Brad said. “Your ad caught my attention, and I thought there was a story behind it. I’ll admit that I was expecting to do a story about mothers recovering from grief after the loss of a child. My mother lost three babies after me.”

Cory nodded thoughtfully and then stood up. “Come on,” he said, and Brad stood up. Cory led him up the stairs, and at the small landing, he opened the door and turned on the light. He hated entering this room now. Brad stepped inside, but Cory remained in the hallway, physically unable to enter. “This was to be Adam’s room. I picked out the furniture, painted the walls. I spent days picking out just the right color blue. Then I asked a friend to paint the teddy bears on the walls, and we even added stars to the ceiling.” Cory didn’t look up. Unable to take any more, Cory stepped away from the door and waited for Brad to come out of the room. Then Cory turned off the bedroom light and closed the door. Without saying anything more, Cory led the way down the stairs and back to the living room, where he once again sat in his chair.

“Mothers aren’t the only ones to feel grief,” Cory said flatly.

Brad nodded slowly. “What happened?” he whispered.

Cory wasn’t sure why he opened up, but he did. “About a year ago, I found out my best friend, Eileen, was pregnant. She wasn’t married and was barely able to take care of herself. Eileen was wonderful, but there wasn’t a maternal bone in her body. She’d decided that she wanted to put the baby up for adoption, and I asked if I could adopt the child.” Cory’s voice broke, and he yanked a tissue from the box on the lower shelf of the end table. He never thought he’d keep tissues in various rooms of his house, but for months now he’d needed them. “Eileen was thrilled. She would still get to be a part of her baby’s life, and that was all she wanted.”

“You said his name was Adam?” Brad prompted.

“After we found out she was having a boy, I came up with the name, and Eileen liked it, so we started referring to him as Adam. I bought the nursery things and fixed up the room upstairs. Everything was ready.” Cory paused and blew out his breath. He needed to get himself under control. What he wasn’t prepared for was Brad to reach over and touch his hand. Cory hadn’t been touched in quite a while, and he liked it. The gesture was probably a breach of journalistic integrity and objectivity or something like that, but it was what he desperately needed.

“Please, take your time,” Brad told him. “I’ll listen.” Cory thought he might have seen tears in Brad’s eyes, but it was hard to tell through his own.

“Eileen was about eight months pregnant, and she was at home. I hadn’t heard from her that day, so I stopped by after work. I found her on her kitchen floor, where she’d fallen.” Cory figured he might as well finish the story and get it over with. “The autopsy showed that she had a blood vessel burst in her brain. It was probably a defect she’d had since birth, and it burst. They said she died pretty quickly.”

Brad had taken notes throughout his story, and Cory waited for him to finish. “Did you get any help? With the grief, I mean.”

Cory shrugged. “Some. I actually found a group for people who lost children in Harrisburg—eleven women and me. The thing was, at the time I didn’t consider my grief as bad as theirs. I wasn’t the one who’d carried the child, but….”

“You still lost a child just the same,” Brad said.

Cory nodded. He does understand.

In Search of a Story Releasing Thursday Night at Midnight

Last October I was at a conference with a friend, Hope.  I had finished a novel and was looking for an idea.  At the conference I attended a seminar on storytelling and the leader quoted Henningway's answer to the challenge to tell a story in as few words as possible.  His response was "For sale, baby shoes, never worn."  I was fascinated with the idea and after talking it over with Hope the entire ride home, I began this story.

  

He’s searching for a story but finds so much more.

Brad Torrence is next on the chopping block at the newspaper where he works. Hungry for any source he can find, he runs across an ad in the classifieds: For Sale: Nursery Items, Never Used. It’s the lead he’s been looking for. Thinking a piece about the loss of a child will give him the edge he needs to keep his job, Brad follows up. He doesn’t expect a single man to answer.

Rather than being offended, Cory Wolfe finds sharing the story of his grief and pain liberating. He’s even surprised by the spark that strikes, and one story leads to another.

Brad digs into his stories and Cory’s life, eager to know everything about the man who’s caught his attention. But when a lead points him to the hospital where Cory works, he unearths a mystery that might have been safer left buried. Brad’s search for a story could prove deadly….

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3825

Excerpt:

The man on his doorstep was as young as he’d sounded on the phone, with deer-in-the-headlights eyes and a nervous smile. “Hello, I’m Brad Torrence from the Crier,” he said and extended his hand. The kid looked a bit like an excited puppy.

“Cory Wolfe,” he said, and they shook hands. Cory stepped back so Brad could enter and then closed the door. He motioned toward the living room. He waited for Brad to take a seat and then he sat in his favorite leather chair.

“This is a great room,” Brad said with a touch of awe in his voice. Then he sat and waited. Cory got the impression he was waiting for something.

“You wanted to ask me some questions? I’m a little unsure why you’d want to interview me,” Cory said. “But I’ll try to help.”

“I probably should have been more clear: I was hoping to interview both you and your wife.”

Cory smiled. “Nope. It’s just me. No wife.” That simple statement sent a stab through his stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Brad said.

“Wait, let’s back up. There’s never been a wife. I think we have a misunderstanding of some kind. I’m not married and never have been,” Cory clarified. Brad became jittery, and for a second Cory thought he might hyperventilate.

“But the ad…,” Brad said.

“Yes. Like I said, I never had a wife, but I was getting ready to have a baby,” Cory said. “I had a partner a few years ago, but he wasn’t interested in children, though I was. That and, well, other things, doomed the relationship….”

Brad smiled and opened the notebook he’d brought, appearing distinctly more relaxed.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me questions?” Cory asked.

“I can,” Brad said. “Your ad caught my attention, and I thought there was a story behind it. I’ll admit that I was expecting to do a story about mothers recovering from grief after the loss of a child. My mother lost three babies after me.”

Cory nodded thoughtfully and then stood up. “Come on,” he said, and Brad stood up. Cory led him up the stairs, and at the small landing, he opened the door and turned on the light. He hated entering this room now. Brad stepped inside, but Cory remained in the hallway, physically unable to enter. “This was to be Adam’s room. I picked out the furniture, painted the walls. I spent days picking out just the right color blue. Then I asked a friend to paint the teddy bears on the walls, and we even added stars to the ceiling.” Cory didn’t look up. Unable to take any more, Cory stepped away from the door and waited for Brad to come out of the room. Then Cory turned off the bedroom light and closed the door. Without saying anything more, Cory led the way down the stairs and back to the living room, where he once again sat in his chair.

“Mothers aren’t the only ones to feel grief,” Cory said flatly.

Brad nodded slowly. “What happened?” he whispered.

Cory wasn’t sure why he opened up, but he did. “About a year ago, I found out my best friend, Eileen, was pregnant. She wasn’t married and was barely able to take care of herself. Eileen was wonderful, but there wasn’t a maternal bone in her body. She’d decided that she wanted to put the baby up for adoption, and I asked if I could adopt the child.” Cory’s voice broke, and he yanked a tissue from the box on the lower shelf of the end table. He never thought he’d keep tissues in various rooms of his house, but for months now he’d needed them. “Eileen was thrilled. She would still get to be a part of her baby’s life, and that was all she wanted.”

“You said his name was Adam?” Brad prompted.

“After we found out she was having a boy, I came up with the name, and Eileen liked it, so we started referring to him as Adam. I bought the nursery things and fixed up the room upstairs. Everything was ready.” Cory paused and blew out his breath. He needed to get himself under control. What he wasn’t prepared for was Brad to reach over and touch his hand. Cory hadn’t been touched in quite a while, and he liked it. The gesture was probably a breach of journalistic integrity and objectivity or something like that, but it was what he desperately needed.

“Please, take your time,” Brad told him. “I’ll listen.” Cory thought he might have seen tears in Brad’s eyes, but it was hard to tell through his own.

“Eileen was about eight months pregnant, and she was at home. I hadn’t heard from her that day, so I stopped by after work. I found her on her kitchen floor, where she’d fallen.” Cory figured he might as well finish the story and get it over with. “The autopsy showed that she had a blood vessel burst in her brain. It was probably a defect she’d had since birth, and it burst. They said she died pretty quickly.”

Brad had taken notes throughout his story, and Cory waited for him to finish. “Did you get any help? With the grief, I mean.”

Cory shrugged. “Some. I actually found a group for people who lost children in Harrisburg—eleven women and me. The thing was, at the time I didn’t consider my grief as bad as theirs. I wasn’t the one who’d carried the child, but….”

“You still lost a child just the same,” Brad said.

Cory nodded. He does understand.

The Fight for Identity - Releasing Tonight at Midnight!!!

The Fight for Identity releases tonight at Midnight.  This is the third story in The Good Fight series.  Now as a treat and by special arrangement, Rainbow eBooks has the story available today, one day early, along with a special short story, Takoda and Horse that is being offered for free.  Of course, The Fight for Identity will be available tomorrow at all the usual places including Amazon.  

Blurb

Will Martin’s racist father, Kevin, hates Native Americans and wants to keep them off his property, never mind that part of the ranch land is sacred ground for the Sioux. When they request access for prayer, Kevin refuses—but Will doesn’t share his father’s views. Ever since he first saw Takoda Red Bird during one of the Sioux sacred ceremonies, Will has been fascinated. He grants the tribe access.

Takoda defies Kevin on a regular basis. He often sneaks to the sacred site on the rancher’s land for prayer and knows Will has seen him there. When, out of spite, Kevin places the land up for auction, Takoda knows it is time for action and bands together with Will to stop the sale.

In the fight that follows, Will gets more than he expected. He starts out helping the tribe preserve their identity… and ends up finding his own.

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3804

Purchase from Rainbow eBooks:  http://www.rainbowebooks.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=10795&osCsid=4qqimv0rhnbqkkgeqh2jvc8vu2

Excerpt:

When Will opened his eyes again, movement caught his eye. A lone man sat cross-legged on the ground, gently swaying back and forth. He didn’t seem to be wearing a shirt, his skin almost providing a type of camouflage against the red-brown land. Slowly, Will led Midnight down the far side of the rise, closer to where the man sat. As he approached and dismounted, the man’s posture stiffened, but he made no move to get up.

“If you’re here to kick me off, you can just go about your business,” the man said in a deeply rich voice.

“Why would I do that? You aren’t hurting anything,” Will said. He didn’t come too close. “You might get trampled by the cattle if they wander this way, but that’s the only kicking anyone is going to do.”

The man opened his eyes, and Will stared into the deepest set of brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

“I know you, and I know this horse,” the man said, and he slowly unfolded his legs and stood up, tall and proud. “I saw this horse and probably you a long time ago.” He met Will’s gaze. “I was coming to say hello when your grandfather pulled you away.”

Will swallowed as his gaze traveled over the man’s body before quickly returning to his face. He didn’t want to be too obvious, but damned if this guy wasn’t some sort of god come down to earth. “I remember you,” Will said, his mind conjuring up the memory. “I was watching the ceremony when I was a kid, and I remember you on your horse, riding bareback. I wondered at the time if I could ride like that on Midnight here, but I never tried it.”

“How do you know it was me?” the man asked.

“I remember the scar on your shoulder. The boy I saw had the same one, but it was fresher then. Now it’s an old wound, but not then.” Will met the man’s gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Praying,” he answered. “This place is very special to me and my people. I come here sometimes to pray to the gods to help my people, but they don’t listen.” He sounded angry. “Instead, they let your father keep us away from this land and bar us from coming here.”

“He did that?” Will asked. Not that he was surprised. Thinking back, his father had probably stopped them from using the land as soon as Grandpa died. Even now, Will didn’t know why his father hated Native Americans so much, but he’d found out that the man he’d thought his father was through young teenage eyes turned out to be far different from the man Will saw through adult eyes.

“Yes. He stopped my people from coming here two years ago. Now I’m the only one who comes. Your father would call the police if he found me, but I don’t care. It’s more important to practice my people’s beliefs than it is to obey the wishes of some small-minded, hard-hearted white man.”

Will didn’t move, but Midnight began to stomp and pull on the reins. He was getting impatient. “My father isn’t so bad,” Will said.

“Then why does he keep my people from this place? We do no harm, and we only commune with nature and establish a connection to our heritage and customs. This place is sacred, and it figures into one of our earliest stories.”

“I know. My grandfather used to tell me the stories he knew. He said he had a friend who was Sioux, and he shared the stories with him. I think that’s why Grandfather understood and didn’t interfere with you.” Will began to move to appease Midnight. “He told me the day I watched you that you’re coming here was the same as us going to church.” The man nodded. “Then I give you and your people permission to come here and to hold your ceremony.”

Will led Midnight farther away and got ready to mount, but stopped when he heard the other man laughing. “I know it’s your father who owns the land, or thinks he owns the land. But no one can own nature or the land. Not even you.”

Will stomped over to where the man stood, knowing Midnight would stay. “Look, you can play the stereotypical stoic Indian all you want. But I meant what I said. I happen to believe you should be able to practice your beliefs. So you can either act like an ass or say thank you.” Will stared at the annoying man, wondering why he was bothering at all.

“Native American,” the man said. “I’m Native American, not Indian, and why should I say thank you for allowing my people to practice beliefs we’ve held and passed down for thousands of years?”

God, the man was a smartass. “Okay, then don’t practice your beliefs and stay away. It’s no skin off my nose,” Will said as he climbed back into the saddle. “I was trying to help.” Will turned Midnight’s head toward home and clicked his teeth to start the horse moving.

“You were,” the man said, and Will pulled Midnight to a stop. “I should be grateful. At least my people will be able to come here for the ceremony this year.” When Will nodded, the man extended his hand and said, “I’m Takoda Red Bird.”

“Will Martin,” he said as he shook the offered hand, once again looking the man over. He had to stop that, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“You know your father is going to raise hell if he finds out what you said,” Takoda added. “You don’t have to do this. Your father has something against my people, and none of us knows what it is, but you don’t have to provoke his temper. Your grandfather was a good man, and I believe he understood, but your father doesn’t. You don’t have to put yourself in harm’s way for us.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Takoda. I’ll deal with my father.” Will nudged Midnight, and he started up the rise. It was the right thing to do, and what his grandfather had done. When they reached the top, Will raised his hand in greeting, and Takoda did the same. As his grandfather would say, his dad would have two strokes and a hemorrhage if he found out what Will had done. But it was still the right thing to do. Too bad he had forgotten that no good deed goes unpunished.

The Fight for Identity - Releasing Thursday Night at Midnight!!!

A number of months ago, I read in the newspaper about a piece of land, sacred to the Sioux, that was going to be auctioned off piece by piece.   Part of their creation story takes place on this land. So once again, I got fired up and decided, in my own way, to write about that struggle. This is a story about the struggle for identity as a people as well as personally. I really hope you enjoy it.

          

Will Martin’s racist father, Kevin, hates Native Americans and wants to keep them off his property, never mind that part of the ranch land is sacred ground for the Sioux. When they request access for prayer, Kevin refuses—but Will doesn’t share his father’s views. Ever since he first saw Takoda Red Bird during one of the Sioux sacred ceremonies, Will has been fascinated. He grants the tribe access.

Takoda defies Kevin on a regular basis. He often sneaks to the sacred site on the rancher’s land for prayer and knows Will has seen him there. When, out of spite, Kevin places the land up for auction, Takoda knows it is time for action and bands together with Will to stop the sale.

In the fight that follows, Will gets more than he expected. He starts out helping the tribe preserve their identity… and ends up finding his own.

Preorder a copy from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3804

Excerpt:

When Will opened his eyes again, movement caught his eye. A lone man sat cross-legged on the ground, gently swaying back and forth. He didn’t seem to be wearing a shirt, his skin almost providing a type of camouflage against the red-brown land. Slowly, Will led Midnight down the far side of the rise, closer to where the man sat. As he approached and dismounted, the man’s posture stiffened, but he made no move to get up.

“If you’re here to kick me off, you can just go about your business,” the man said in a deeply rich voice.

“Why would I do that? You aren’t hurting anything,” Will said. He didn’t come too close. “You might get trampled by the cattle if they wander this way, but that’s the only kicking anyone is going to do.”

The man opened his eyes, and Will stared into the deepest set of brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

“I know you, and I know this horse,” the man said, and he slowly unfolded his legs and stood up, tall and proud. “I saw this horse and probably you a long time ago.” He met Will’s gaze. “I was coming to say hello when your grandfather pulled you away.”

Will swallowed as his gaze traveled over the man’s body before quickly returning to his face. He didn’t want to be too obvious, but damned if this guy wasn’t some sort of god come down to earth. “I remember you,” Will said, his mind conjuring up the memory. “I was watching the ceremony when I was a kid, and I remember you on your horse, riding bareback. I wondered at the time if I could ride like that on Midnight here, but I never tried it.”

“How do you know it was me?” the man asked.

“I remember the scar on your shoulder. The boy I saw had the same one, but it was fresher then. Now it’s an old wound, but not then.” Will met the man’s gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Praying,” he answered. “This place is very special to me and my people. I come here sometimes to pray to the gods to help my people, but they don’t listen.” He sounded angry. “Instead, they let your father keep us away from this land and bar us from coming here.”

“He did that?” Will asked. Not that he was surprised. Thinking back, his father had probably stopped them from using the land as soon as Grandpa died. Even now, Will didn’t know why his father hated Native Americans so much, but he’d found out that the man he’d thought his father was through young teenage eyes turned out to be far different from the man Will saw through adult eyes.

“Yes. He stopped my people from coming here two years ago. Now I’m the only one who comes. Your father would call the police if he found me, but I don’t care. It’s more important to practice my people’s beliefs than it is to obey the wishes of some small-minded, hard-hearted white man.”

Will didn’t move, but Midnight began to stomp and pull on the reins. He was getting impatient. “My father isn’t so bad,” Will said.

“Then why does he keep my people from this place? We do no harm, and we only commune with nature and establish a connection to our heritage and customs. This place is sacred, and it figures into one of our earliest stories.”

“I know. My grandfather used to tell me the stories he knew. He said he had a friend who was Sioux, and he shared the stories with him. I think that’s why Grandfather understood and didn’t interfere with you.” Will began to move to appease Midnight. “He told me the day I watched you that your coming here was the same as us going to church.” The man nodded. “Then I give you and your people permission to come here and to hold your ceremony.”

Will led Midnight farther away and got ready to mount, but stopped when he heard the other man laughing. “I know it’s your father who owns the land, or thinks he owns the land. But no one can own nature or the land. Not even you.”

Will stomped over to where the man stood, knowing Midnight would stay. “Look, you can play the stereotypical stoic Indian all you want. But I meant what I said. I happen to believe you should be able to practice your beliefs. So you can either act like an ass or say thank you.” Will stared at the annoying man, wondering why he was bothering at all.

“Native American,” the man said. “I’m Native American, not Indian, and why should I say thank you for allowing my people to practice beliefs we’ve held and passed down for thousands of years?”

God, the man was a smartass. “Okay, then don’t practice your beliefs and stay away. It’s no skin off my nose,” Will said as he climbed back into the saddle. “I was trying to help.” Will turned Midnight’s head toward home and clicked his teeth to start the horse moving.

“You were,” the man said, and Will pulled Midnight to a stop. “I should be grateful. At least my people will be able to come here for the ceremony this year.” When Will nodded, the man extended his hand and said, “I’m Takoda Red Bird.”

“Will Martin,” he said as he shook the offered hand, once again looking the man over. He had to stop that, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“You know your father is going to raise hell if he finds out what you said,” Takoda added. “You don’t have to do this. Your father has something against my people, and none of us knows what it is, but you don’t have to provoke his temper. Your grandfather was a good man, and I believe he understood, but your father doesn’t. You don’t have to put yourself in harm’s way for us.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Takoda. I’ll deal with my father.” Will nudged Midnight, and he started up the rise. It was the right thing to do, and what his grandfather had done. When they reached the top, Will raised his hand in greeting, and Takoda did the same. As his grandfather would say, his dad would have two strokes and a hemorrhage if he found out what Will had done. But it was still the right thing to do. Too bad he had forgotten that no good deed goes unpunished.

College Chemistry Was Never Like This

I wrote Organic Chemistry on a whim.  An internet friend had told me that her son has Asperger's Syndrome and that he never really got to see himself in a story.  So I set out to change that.  I am by no means an expect on Asperger's but I did some basic research, threw in some of my own imagination, and came up with Brenson.  By the time I was done writing the story, I'd pretty much fallen in love with the guy.  He's smart, sweet, to a degree very innocent, but also willing to open himself to love, once he pulled his mind out of his research and realized that's what's being offered.  Josh on the other hand was much simpler.  I'm a geek at heart and in creating Josh, I wanted Brendon to hit the boyfriend jackpot, so to speak.  There is another story in the series, Biochemistry.  It will be released later this year.  It centers on new characters, but both Josh and Brendon make an appearance.

Brendon Marcus lives for his work. A boy genius who fast-tracked his way to college professor by his early twenties, he doesn’t know any other way to be. People confound him. So when Josh Horton, the assistant football coach, pursues him, Brendon isn’t sure what to make of him.

Josh has his own problems. His successful parents aren’t particularly happy with his career path, and some of the players don’t like having a gay assistant coach. He begins to have doubts, but Brendon makes the world look a little brighter.

But when Brendon’s department head starts to make trouble, Josh and Brendon discover that standing up for each other is the first step to standing up for themselves.

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3775

Purchase from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Organic-Chemistry-ebook/dp/B00CHYPGZ6/ref=zg_bs_10169_17

Purchase from Rainbow eBooks: http://www.rainbowebooks.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=10733


       An hour later, he didn’t have much. His frustration was blocking his thought processes, he knew that, but he was so angry at himself. And to make matters worse, the text he’d received that had caused the whole collision earlier was some marketing thing from his service provider. Texting and driving was dangerous, Brendon reminded himself, but he shouldn’t walk and text at the same time—it could be detrimental to his research.

A knock sounded on his door, which Brendon ignored at first because he was just starting to make progress. It sounded again, and he reached behind him and opened the door before returning to his typing. “Can I help you?” Brendon asked as he finished getting down one of the ideas he’d had.

“I’m sorry, but I think you dropped this earlier.”

Brendon turned to see the huge man he’d collided with in the hall holding the notepad. Brendon nearly snatched it out of his hand and then looked through it.

“Thank you,” he said with a relieved sigh. It was all there, and as soon as he saw his writing, the ideas he’d had flooded through his mind once again.

“I found it halfway down the hall, and it took me a while to locate you. I kept looking for a student,” he said, and Brendon glanced up to find the man looking him over. “I’m Joshua Horton. And no, I’ve never heard a who.” Brendon looked at him blankly, wondering what he was talking about. “Dr. Seuss, you know.”

Brendon shook his head. “Never read any of that stuff.”

“No way,” Joshua said. “How could you have missed that?”

“When other kids were interested in things like that, my mother was helping me read Treasure Island.” Brendon put down the notepad. “I’m Brendon Marcus,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m an associate professor of chemistry.”

“My friends call me Josh or Freight Train. I’m the new assistant football coach,” Josh said as he pumped Brendon’s hand hard. When Josh released it, Brendon’s hand tingled, and he wondered where that had come from. Maybe Josh had caused nerve damage or something. “Sorry I bumped into you and spilled all your stuff. Did you get everything back?”

“I did now,” Brendon said with a smile of relief. “Thanks again. I had a bunch of ideas in there, and it was going to take a lot of time to try to recreate them.” Brendon wondered exactly how long he had to chitchat before he could return to his work. Eventually he began to shift in his chair. “Um, I need to get back to work now.”

“Okay. I should be going, then,” Josh said, and Brendon turned around and returned to his computer, but he didn’t hear Josh leave and eventually he turned back around. “Is there something I forgot?” He started to run through the social conventions his mother had taught him. Brendon never seemed to understand other people. He didn’t read facial expressions well, and vocalisms like sarcasm were simply beyond him. Lots of people thought he didn’t care, but he did care—he simply didn’t understand. Should he have offered Josh coffee? He didn’t think so. They really didn’t know each other. He reached for his wallet. “Do you need a reward?” He already had his wallet in his hand when Josh touched his arm.

“No,” Josh said.

Brendon looked at him, confused. “I need to go back to work, but you’re still standing here. Therefore I must have forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.” Brendon was becoming agitated as he twisted his seat around and stared up at Josh, the Freight Train guy.

“You didn’t forget anything, String Bean. I was just trying to figure out how to ask if you might like to get some dinner or something?”

Brendon blinked. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry and I have to finish my work.” Brendon turned around to face his computer again. If the man didn’t leave now, he didn’t know how he could get him to go. He heard nothing from behind him, and for a second he thought Josh might have left, but then he heard laughter. “I don’t think I said anything funny,” Brendon said, looking over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t asking you to get dinner now. I thought I could come back here about five o’clock, and we could walk someplace nearby to get something to eat.” Brendon felt Josh place his hand on the back of his chair. “You do eat, don’t you?”

“Of course I eat,” Brendon said. “Everyone has to eat.”

“Then would you have dinner with me tonight?” Josh asked.

“Okay,” Brendon said and then turned back around to go to work. “But I don’t eat squishy food or fishy food.” He began typing. “Or stringy meat.” He shivered at the thought of eating any of that stuff. “It all feels funny.”

“Okay,” Josh agreed. “I’ll meet you here at a little after five for a nonsquishy, nonfishy, no-stringy-meat meal.” Brendon nodded and continued working. “Okay, I’ll see you then,” he heard Josh say, but he was already descending into his work and he barely noticed when the door closed. Brendon continued working for about five minutes and then stopped, resting his fingers on the keyboard. He was having dinner with someone. Like, as a friend. Without thinking, he brought up the Internet and began searching for articles on the right social conventions for a situation like that. Did he need to bring a gift? Should he have money to pay? The sources he found said he didn’t need to bring anything unless he was going to someone’s home for dinner, in which case he should bring something small, but it also said he should be prepared to pay for his own meal. He decided he could handle that, so he went back to his work.

Organic Chemistry - College was Never This Fun or This Hot - Now Available for Kindle

Organic Chemistry, the first in a new series, was just released today by Dreamspinner Press.  I'm very much a geek at heart so this story is rather special for me.  I specifically wanted to write a story where the geek wins in the battle for love.  And, just so you know, college chemistry class was never this much fun or this hot.  Though I sure wish it had been!!!!

Brendon Marcus lives for his work. A boy genius who fast-tracked his way to college professor by his early twenties, he doesn’t know any other way to be. People confound him. So when Josh Horton, the assistant football coach, pursues him, Brendon isn’t sure what to make of him.

Josh has his own problems. His successful parents aren’t particularly happy with his career path, and some of the players don’t like having a gay assistant coach. He begins to have doubts, but Brendon makes the world look a little brighter.

But when Brendon’s department head starts to make trouble, Josh and Brendon discover that standing up for each other is the first step to standing up for themselves.

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3775

Purchase from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Organic-Chemistry-ebook/dp/B00CHYPGZ6/ref=zg_bs_10169_17

Purchase from Rainbow eBooks: http://www.rainbowebooks.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=10733


        An hour later, he didn’t have much. His frustration was blocking his thought processes, he knew that, but he was so angry at himself. And to make matters worse, the text he’d received that had caused the whole collision earlier was some marketing thing from his service provider. Texting and driving was dangerous, Brendon reminded himself, but he shouldn’t walk and text at the same time—it could be detrimental to his research.

A knock sounded on his door, which Brendon ignored at first because he was just starting to make progress. It sounded again, and he reached behind him and opened the door before returning to his typing. “Can I help you?” Brendon asked as he finished getting down one of the ideas he’d had.

“I’m sorry, but I think you dropped this earlier.”

Brendon turned to see the huge man he’d collided with in the hall holding the notepad. Brendon nearly snatched it out of his hand and then looked through it.

“Thank you,” he said with a relieved sigh. It was all there, and as soon as he saw his writing, the ideas he’d had flooded through his mind once again.

“I found it halfway down the hall, and it took me a while to locate you. I kept looking for a student,” he said, and Brendon glanced up to find the man looking him over. “I’m Joshua Horton. And no, I’ve never heard a who.” Brendon looked at him blankly, wondering what he was talking about. “Dr. Seuss, you know.”

Brendon shook his head. “Never read any of that stuff.”

“No way,” Joshua said. “How could you have missed that?”

“When other kids were interested in things like that, my mother was helping me read Treasure Island.” Brendon put down the notepad. “I’m Brendon Marcus,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m an associate professor of chemistry.”

“My friends call me Josh or Freight Train. I’m the new assistant football coach,” Josh said as he pumped Brendon’s hand hard. When Josh released it, Brendon’s hand tingled, and he wondered where that had come from. Maybe Josh had caused nerve damage or something. “Sorry I bumped into you and spilled all your stuff. Did you get everything back?”

“I did now,” Brendon said with a smile of relief. “Thanks again. I had a bunch of ideas in there, and it was going to take a lot of time to try to recreate them.” Brendon wondered exactly how long he had to chitchat before he could return to his work. Eventually he began to shift in his chair. “Um, I need to get back to work now.”

“Okay. I should be going, then,” Josh said, and Brendon turned around and returned to his computer, but he didn’t hear Josh leave and eventually he turned back around. “Is there something I forgot?” He started to run through the social conventions his mother had taught him. Brendon never seemed to understand other people. He didn’t read facial expressions well, and vocalisms like sarcasm were simply beyond him. Lots of people thought he didn’t care, but he did care—he simply didn’t understand. Should he have offered Josh coffee? He didn’t think so. They really didn’t know each other. He reached for his wallet. “Do you need a reward?” He already had his wallet in his hand when Josh touched his arm.

“No,” Josh said.

Brendon looked at him, confused. “I need to go back to work, but you’re still standing here. Therefore I must have forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.” Brendon was becoming agitated as he twisted his seat around and stared up at Josh, the Freight Train guy.

“You didn’t forget anything, String Bean. I was just trying to figure out how to ask if you might like to get some dinner or something?”

Brendon blinked. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry and I have to finish my work.” Brendon turned around to face his computer again. If the man didn’t leave now, he didn’t know how he could get him to go. He heard nothing from behind him, and for a second he thought Josh might have left, but then he heard laughter. “I don’t think I said anything funny,” Brendon said, looking over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t asking you to get dinner now. I thought I could come back here about five o’clock, and we could walk someplace nearby to get something to eat.” Brendon felt Josh place his hand on the back of his chair. “You do eat, don’t you?”

“Of course I eat,” Brendon said. “Everyone has to eat.”

“Then would you have dinner with me tonight?” Josh asked.

“Okay,” Brendon said and then turned back around to go to work. “But I don’t eat squishy food or fishy food.” He began typing. “Or stringy meat.” He shivered at the thought of eating any of that stuff. “It all feels funny.”

“Okay,” Josh agreed. “I’ll meet you here at a little after five for a nonsquishy, nonfishy, no-stringy-meat meal.” Brendon nodded and continued working. “Okay, I’ll see you then,” he heard Josh say, but he was already descending into his work and he barely noticed when the door closed. Brendon continued working for about five minutes and then stopped, resting his fingers on the keyboard. He was having dinner with someone. Like, as a friend. Without thinking, he brought up the Internet and began searching for articles on the right social conventions for a situation like that. Did he need to bring a gift? Should he have money to pay? The sources he found said he didn’t need to bring anything unless he was going to someone’s home for dinner, in which case he should bring something small, but it also said he should be prepared to pay for his own meal. He decided he could handle that, so he went back to his work.

Organic Chemistry Releases Tonight At Midnight. You'll Wish This Was Your College Chemistry Class

My novella, Organic Chemistry releases tonight at midnight Eastern Time from Dreamspinner Press. This story is set in my home town of Carlisle Pennsylvania and I used a bit of dramatic license to place my professor at Dickenson College. This story is fun and I had a ball writing it. So I hope you enjoy this excerpt and fall in love with Brendon and Josh just like I did.

Brendon Marcus lives for his work. A boy genius who fast-tracked his way to college professor by his early twenties, he doesn’t know any other way to be. People confound him. So when Josh Horton, the assistant football coach, pursues him, Brendon isn’t sure what to make of him.

Josh has his own problems. His successful parents aren’t particularly happy with his career path, and some of the players don’t like having a gay assistant coach. He begins to have doubts, but Brendon makes the world look a little brighter.

But when Brendon’s department head starts to make trouble, Josh and Brendon discover that standing up for each other is the first step to standing up for themselves.

Purchase from Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3775

An hour later, he didn’t have much. His frustration was blocking his thought processes, he knew that, but he was so angry at himself. And to make matters worse, the text he’d received that had caused the whole collision earlier was some marketing thing from his service provider. Texting and driving was dangerous, Brendon reminded himself, but he shouldn’t walk and text at the same time—it could be detrimental to his research.

A knock sounded on his door, which Brendon ignored at first because he was just starting to make progress. It sounded again, and he reached behind him and opened the door before returning to his typing. “Can I help you?” Brendon asked as he finished getting down one of the ideas he’d had.

“I’m sorry, but I think you dropped this earlier.”

Brendon turned to see the huge man he’d collided with in the hall holding the notepad. Brendon nearly snatched it out of his hand and then looked through it.

“Thank you,” he said with a relieved sigh. It was all there, and as soon as he saw his writing, the ideas he’d had flooded through his mind once again.

“I found it halfway down the hall, and it took me a while to locate you. I kept looking for a student,” he said, and Brendon glanced up to find the man looking him over. “I’m Joshua Horton. And no, I’ve never heard a who.” Brendon looked at him blankly, wondering what he was talking about. “Dr. Seuss, you know.”

Brendon shook his head. “Never read any of that stuff.”

“No way,” Joshua said. “How could you have missed that?”

“When other kids were interested in things like that, my mother was helping me read Treasure Island.” Brendon put down the notepad. “I’m Brendon Marcus,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m an associate professor of chemistry.”

“My friends call me Josh or Freight Train. I’m the new assistant football coach,” Josh said as he pumped Brendon’s hand hard. When Josh released it, Brendon’s hand tingled, and he wondered where that had come from. Maybe Josh had caused nerve damage or something. “Sorry I bumped into you and spilled all your stuff. Did you get everything back?”

“I did now,” Brendon said with a smile of relief. “Thanks again. I had a bunch of ideas in there, and it was going to take a lot of time to try to recreate them.” Brendon wondered exactly how long he had to chitchat before he could return to his work. Eventually he began to shift in his chair. “Um, I need to get back to work now.”

“Okay. I should be going, then,” Josh said, and Brendon turned around and returned to his computer, but he didn’t hear Josh leave and eventually he turned back around. “Is there something I forgot?” He started to run through the social conventions his mother had taught him. Brendon never seemed to understand other people. He didn’t read facial expressions well, and vocalisms like sarcasm were simply beyond him. Lots of people thought he didn’t care, but he did care—he simply didn’t understand. Should he have offered Josh coffee? He didn’t think so. They really didn’t know each other. He reached for his wallet. “Do you need a reward?” He already had his wallet in his hand when Josh touched his arm.

“No,” Josh said.

Brendon looked at him, confused. “I need to go back to work, but you’re still standing here. Therefore I must have forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.” Brendon was becoming agitated as he twisted his seat around and stared up at Josh, the Freight Train guy.

“You didn’t forget anything, String Bean. I was just trying to figure out how to ask if you might like to get some dinner or something?”

Brendon blinked. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry and I have to finish my work.” Brendon turned around to face his computer again. If the man didn’t leave now, he didn’t know how he could get him to go. He heard nothing from behind him, and for a second he thought Josh might have left, but then he heard laughter. “I don’t think I said anything funny,” Brendon said, looking over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t asking you to get dinner now. I thought I could come back here about five o’clock, and we could walk someplace nearby to get something to eat.” Brendon felt Josh place his hand on the back of his chair. “You do eat, don’t you?”

“Of course I eat,” Brendon said. “Everyone has to eat.”

“Then would you have dinner with me tonight?” Josh asked.

“Okay,” Brendon said and then turned back around to go to work. “But I don’t eat squishy food or fishy food.” He began typing. “Or stringy meat.” He shivered at the thought of eating any of that stuff. “It all feels funny.”

“Okay,” Josh agreed. “I’ll meet you here at a little after five for a nonsquishy, nonfishy, no-stringy-meat meal.” Brendon nodded and continued working. “Okay, I’ll see you then,” he heard Josh say, but he was already descending into his work and he barely noticed when the door closed. Brendon continued working for about five minutes and then stopped, resting his fingers on the keyboard. He was having dinner with someone. Like, as a friend. Without thinking, he brought up the Internet and began searching for articles on the right social conventions for a situation like that. Did he need to bring a gift? Should he have money to pay? The sources he found said he didn’t need to bring anything unless he was going to someone’s home for dinner, in which case he should bring something small, but it also said he should be prepared to pay for his own meal. He decided he could handle that, so he went back to his work.