Kim Fielding's Blog, page 68
April 19, 2013
Welcome to Madison Parker!
I Love the 80s
When I look back at pictures of my parents in their youth, I can't help but ask, "What were they thinking?" Bell bottoms? Plaid? Bouffant hairdos? My parents went through middle/high school in the 60s. Two decades later, it was my turn to embrace the current fads, and boy did I think I was trendy with my leg warmers, my Swatch watch, my high bangs, and my earcuffs. The photo on the left is me in 1985. I'm sporting capris with scrunchy socks and a cutoff shirt. And the perm. Oh, my, my, the perm! Lol! It's all rather embarrasing now, but I do have fond memories of 80s pop culture, particularly the music and movies from that time period. Music has a way of conjuring up memories. When I hear an old song, I often recall where I was, what I was doing, or how I was feeling when I heard it in the past. For example, when I hear Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", I see a vivid picture of me sitting in my old kitchen listening to Casey Kasem's American Top 40 on the radio (I lived in Germany at the time, and we only had one American radio station, so it was always a treat to listen to his show on Sundays). Cyndi Lauper was so outrageous and, well, unusual at the time; I loved her! Michael Jackson, Sting, Duran Duran, Madonna, Huey Lewis & the News, and Bruce Springsteen were some of my other favorites. And the movies! The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Ghostbusters, Overboard, and Beetlejuice are among my top picks. My absolute favorite 80s movie was Splash, in which Alan (Tom Hanks) meets and falls in love with a mermaid named Madison (Daryll Hannah). Splash (1984) Movie TrailerAre you an 80s film buff? Here's a bit of fun—see how many of the following film titles you can name from their graphic images. There's one for each letter of the alphabet: 1980s Film Alphabet. Oddly enough, my son, who graduated from high school in 2005, is also a big fan of 80s movies and music. I suppose it's because he grew up watching/listening to me enjoying my favorites. So it felt natural for me to have Lucas, the main character in Play Me, I'm Yours be a fan of 80s pop culture.
Some of the 80s tunes referenced in the novel include "She Bop", "Hungry Like the Wolf", and "Dance Me to the End of Love". What are some of your favorite tunes from the 80s? Let me know in the comments below! 
Play Me, I'm Yours by Madison Parker Published by Harmony Ink Press Fairy Tate. Twinklefingers. Lucy Liu. Will the taunting ever end? Lucas Tate suffers ridicule because of his appearance and sensitive nature. When he’s not teased, he’s ignored, and he doesn’t know which is worse. His one comfort in life is his music; he feels unloved by everyone. What he wants more than anything is to find a friend. Much to his dismay, both his mom and a schoolmate are determined to find him a boyfriend, despite the fact Lucas hasn’t come out to them. His mom chooses a football player who redefines the term “heartthrob,” while Trish pushes him toward the only openly gay boy at Providence High. But Lucas is harboring a crush on another boy, one who writes such romantic poetry to his girlfriend that hearing it melts Lucas into a puddle of goo. All three prospects seem so far out of his league. Lucas is sure he doesn’t stand a chance with any of them—until sharing his gift for music brings him the courage to let people into his heart. Click here to read the first chapter.
Visit Madison Parker's Website at www.madisonparklove.com for bonus materials including character sketches, piano covers, music videos, and lyrics for songs referenced in the novel. Connect with Madison:
To celebrate the release of Play Me, I'm Yours, Madison Parker is hosting a giveaway. Enter to win your choice of a free copy of Play Me, I'm Yours or a $10 gift certificate from Rainbow eBooks by leaving a comment below along with your email address. For multiple chances to win, comment at each stop along the tour. Click here for the complete tour schedule. Winners will be chosen randomly on April 23.
April 18, 2013
LHNB Sneak peak: Cover reveal
Thanks to the lovely Eli Easton, my Love Has No Boundaries story now has a cover! Thank you so much, Eli!!
April 17, 2013
Time travel
I just arrived in Chicago and it's been a trip back in time. I was born in the suburbs here but moved when I was 8. I've been back only a couple of times, most recently 18 years ago.
So I get in the cab and they're talking about traffic on the Stevenson Expressway. I remember that from when I was little because the freeway ran pretty close to our house and my dad took it to work. Then I notice that the trees are leafless--the season is at least a month behind where I live in California. We pass the Field Museum, which I haven't seen for nearly 4 decades, but I recognized it at once. It looks almost exactly like I remembered. And finally I check into my hotel--the same hotel where I stayed on a visit to Chicago almost exactly 20 years ago.
So I get in the cab and they're talking about traffic on the Stevenson Expressway. I remember that from when I was little because the freeway ran pretty close to our house and my dad took it to work. Then I notice that the trees are leafless--the season is at least a month behind where I live in California. We pass the Field Museum, which I haven't seen for nearly 4 decades, but I recognized it at once. It looks almost exactly like I remembered. And finally I check into my hotel--the same hotel where I stayed on a visit to Chicago almost exactly 20 years ago.
April 15, 2013
Story teaser
I am still madly working away at my Love Has No Boundaries story. I'm at close to 25k words now. And here's a little (unedited) teaser for you:
The storm had wetted the sand much farther inland than usual, and it had tossed piles of debris. He poked his toes at the huge snarls of seaweed and inspected the chunks of driftwood. A few of the pieces of wood were manmade planks with chips of paint still clinging to them. He wondered if they came from a ship. Smaller detritus lay scattered on the sand as well: colored shells, polished stones, bits of glass frosted and worn smooth. He slipped a few of the prettier pieces in his pocket. Souvenirs, he thought. He’d found his own little treasure after all.
And then he caught sight of another pile of debris. He couldn’t quite make out what it was because it lay where the waves kept washing over it. It might have been seaweed, but appeared more brown than green. Perhaps it was an animal of some sort—a beached seal, maybe. With mixed curiosity and trepidation, Julian went to investigate.
When he came close enough to identify the object, his heart caught in his throat and he stumbled, nearly falling. It was a person.
Was it a fisherman drowned in the storm? How long had it been in the water and how horrifying would it look up close? Gracious gods, what was he going to do with a corpse? He felt as if he might be ill.
But he couldn’t just abandon the body. The tide was coming in and would surely wash the dead man away before Julian could fetch help. There was no way around it: Julian was going to have to handle the matter himself. At the very least, he must drag the corpse farther from the sea. And then… well, he couldn’t just leave it there until morning, could he? But it was too late to walk to the village. The sun would be setting very soon and the road was too dark to travel at night. Fine then. Perhaps Julian could cover the poor thing with a blanket—a sort of temporary burial—and then get assistance in the morning.
This was rather more adventure than he’d expected to have.
Julian crouched beside the body, shivering slightly as the sea lapped at his feet. The body was belly-down, barefoot, dressed in torn and sodden rags. Julian wasn’t certain, but he thought the person was male. His hair was long and tangled, too wet for its color to be discerned, and the strands covered the man’s face.
How terribly sad to die alone and nameless, to be tossed aside like rubbish.
Julian took a deep breath, grasped the corpse’s hip and shoulder, and gently turned the body onto its back.
The corpse’s eyes fluttered open. Julian shrieked and scrambled away. He lost his footing and fell, wetting himself thoroughly in the wavelets. And then he just sprawled there, gasping. Good gods! The man was alive.
So, what do you think so far?
The storm had wetted the sand much farther inland than usual, and it had tossed piles of debris. He poked his toes at the huge snarls of seaweed and inspected the chunks of driftwood. A few of the pieces of wood were manmade planks with chips of paint still clinging to them. He wondered if they came from a ship. Smaller detritus lay scattered on the sand as well: colored shells, polished stones, bits of glass frosted and worn smooth. He slipped a few of the prettier pieces in his pocket. Souvenirs, he thought. He’d found his own little treasure after all.
And then he caught sight of another pile of debris. He couldn’t quite make out what it was because it lay where the waves kept washing over it. It might have been seaweed, but appeared more brown than green. Perhaps it was an animal of some sort—a beached seal, maybe. With mixed curiosity and trepidation, Julian went to investigate.
When he came close enough to identify the object, his heart caught in his throat and he stumbled, nearly falling. It was a person.
Was it a fisherman drowned in the storm? How long had it been in the water and how horrifying would it look up close? Gracious gods, what was he going to do with a corpse? He felt as if he might be ill.
But he couldn’t just abandon the body. The tide was coming in and would surely wash the dead man away before Julian could fetch help. There was no way around it: Julian was going to have to handle the matter himself. At the very least, he must drag the corpse farther from the sea. And then… well, he couldn’t just leave it there until morning, could he? But it was too late to walk to the village. The sun would be setting very soon and the road was too dark to travel at night. Fine then. Perhaps Julian could cover the poor thing with a blanket—a sort of temporary burial—and then get assistance in the morning.
This was rather more adventure than he’d expected to have.
Julian crouched beside the body, shivering slightly as the sea lapped at his feet. The body was belly-down, barefoot, dressed in torn and sodden rags. Julian wasn’t certain, but he thought the person was male. His hair was long and tangled, too wet for its color to be discerned, and the strands covered the man’s face.
How terribly sad to die alone and nameless, to be tossed aside like rubbish.
Julian took a deep breath, grasped the corpse’s hip and shoulder, and gently turned the body onto its back.
The corpse’s eyes fluttered open. Julian shrieked and scrambled away. He lost his footing and fell, wetting himself thoroughly in the wavelets. And then he just sprawled there, gasping. Good gods! The man was alive.
So, what do you think so far?
April 14, 2013
Please welcome Pinkie Rae Parker
Finding Inspiration in History
For the professional historian, history (however one chooses to define the term) is a living, breathing entity. It thrives whether human beings are at their worst or at their best. It is both a lived experience and an intangible figment. Many people treat history as though it is an absolute, but the truth is much more complex. Like writing fiction, history, as we know it, is presented to us through an author’s interpretation. Tastes change over time, theories fall in and out of favor, and the narrative becomes something else altogether. Teasing out a thesis from an amalgamation of data takes dedication, and it is that determined nature that reminds me of writing for pleasure rather than for scholarly pursuits.
My day job requires a lot of time to be spent mulling around in dusty primary source material, and I often find that some of those documents produce rather inspiring ideas. Whether for fiction or non-fiction, the narrative must make sense, yet, even for historians, the result need not be dull. When I comb through French archival documents from the eighteenth century, detailing the sumptuous lives of the excessively wealthy, I can almost picture Versailles as it was when Louis XIV held court there. From these records, the daily lives of the aristocrats are laid bare through their purchases. Perfumes, paintings, and lavish feasts all provide a window with which one can envision to a way of living that we in the twenty-first century will never know or truly understand. The same can be said for almost any time period or class one can imagine.
If one is plagued by writers block, I recommend playing a little game I derived from an episode of Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The game is called “Anywhere but Here.” The object of this exercise is to place yourself (or your character) anywhere and anytime that you are not. The possibilities are endless, even if you only have the sketchiest details about who your character is or what your story might be about. If you want to write about a soldier, do not just think twentieth century. Think fifteenth century or even third! You have literally all of recorded human existence to play around with, so enjoy yourself (and always be respectful of cultures that differ from one’s own).
The minute details of the past are a delightful way to stumble upon some epic plot bunnies, but the task of finding out historical details (if one is hoping for historical accuracy) can be daunting. The solution is often to be aware of one’s limitations in source material and strive for an “alternative history.” However, for the romance writer looking to be historically accurate while keeping a plot interesting, I have the following books to recommend as excellent starting places:
- Eleanor Herman’s Sex with Kings is a richly detailed work chronicling the intrigue that abounds in the sex lives of Europe’s monarchies through the centuries.
- Roman Homosexuality: Ideologies of Masculinity in Classical Antiquity by Craig A. Williams is a fantastic read and provides a bevy of Classical sources that reconstruct how the ancient Romans viewed and practiced same-sex relationships.
- The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England: A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century by Ian Mortimer is a must-read for anyone wanting to write a historically accurate depiction of medieval English life. It is also a personal favorite of mine.
Details culled from the volumes above may provide a tiny spark of inspiration for some or possibly provide the plot necessary for a whole novel. What one may come away with (besides the awesomeness of learning new historical facts) is a story that may be a little quirky but very unique. History may only tell us stories about the past, but there is nothing that says that we cannot use it to make a few stories of our own.
- Pinkie Rae Parker
Pinkie's story "Joie de Vivre" will be featured in the upcoming Dreamspinner Press anthology, Closet Capers, which will be released on April 22nd.
Story Blurb:
Aspiring restaurateur Jules hopes to honor his aunt’s memory by placing one of her recipes on his menu. However, while visiting the farmhouse he inherited from her, he discovers her treasured recipe box has disappeared and encounters a host of needed repairs that make staying in the house impossible. When a childhood antagonist, Henri, reappears, can Jules take him up on his offer of help… and maybe more?
Buy Links:
Paperback- http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3770&cPath=55_767
E-book- http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3769&cPath=55_767
Author Bio:
Pinkie Rae Parker is happy to use the moniker passed down from her great-grandmother. Born and raised in the southern United States, Pinkie Rae is currently a cultural historian and graphic designer. She enjoys researching fashion and design in Europe during the eighteenth century and studying French. However, writing fiction is a passion that she has had since she was a teenager, and she now hopes to pursue writing for publication (outside of academia) as a full-time career.
Author Links:
https://www.facebook.com/PinkieRaeParker
http://pinkieparker.tumblr.com/
http://pinkieraeparker.wordpress.com/
April 11, 2013
What's new
I'm visiting L.J. LaBarthe today to talk about magic. There's an excerpt from Night Shift too.
What else have I been up to--aside from miserable spring allergies?
I just finished the second round of edits on Buried Bones, the sequel to Good Bones. And yesterday I saw the draft of the cover, which I love!I'm working on the galley proofs for The Gig. This is a short story that is a sequel to Speechless and also stars Dylan and Chris from the Bones books. And it will be free!I'm 12,000 words into a story for the Goodreads M/M Romance group's Love Has No Boundaries event. My working title is Beachcombing. There are pirates. This is going to end up as a long novella most likely, and it will be free too.I finished my first draft of a novella with the working title of Housekeeping. Poor Nicky lost his boyfriend, home, and job all in one day.I learned that Dreamspinner Press will be translating Brute into Italian.And I'm getting ready for some travel next week. I was born in the middle part of the United States, lived there for 9 years, then lived there again for 5 years in grad school. But I've spent most of my life on the West Coast, and I haven't even visited the middle part in ages. I guess I'm making up for that this spring and summer--I'll be making 3 separate visits to the middle.
What else have I been up to--aside from miserable spring allergies?
I just finished the second round of edits on Buried Bones, the sequel to Good Bones. And yesterday I saw the draft of the cover, which I love!I'm working on the galley proofs for The Gig. This is a short story that is a sequel to Speechless and also stars Dylan and Chris from the Bones books. And it will be free!I'm 12,000 words into a story for the Goodreads M/M Romance group's Love Has No Boundaries event. My working title is Beachcombing. There are pirates. This is going to end up as a long novella most likely, and it will be free too.I finished my first draft of a novella with the working title of Housekeeping. Poor Nicky lost his boyfriend, home, and job all in one day.I learned that Dreamspinner Press will be translating Brute into Italian.And I'm getting ready for some travel next week. I was born in the middle part of the United States, lived there for 9 years, then lived there again for 5 years in grad school. But I've spent most of my life on the West Coast, and I haven't even visited the middle part in ages. I guess I'm making up for that this spring and summer--I'll be making 3 separate visits to the middle.
April 3, 2013
Night Shift release day!
Night Shift is available for sale today!
You can comment here (yesterday's blog post) for a chance to win a copy.
Also, to celebrate I'm offering my second book, Flux , for free on Kindle! It will remain free through April 6. It's the second book in my Ennek series. The first book, Stasis , is only 99cents, and the third, Equipoise , is $4.99. Plus I donate all my royalties from the trilogy to Doctors Without Borders.
Here's the blurb for Night Shift:
Aside from a sympathetic parole officer, Aiden Finn is alone in the world. He knows this is his last chance—after a lifetime in and out of prison, one more mistake will land him there to stay. Unfortunately, his job as a night custodian at a motel is neither satisfying nor good for building his confidence, and booze and burglary are always just a step behind him.
Enter beautiful, exotic, and secretive Luka Gabor, the motel’s new security guard. He seems to know a great deal about literature, history, and travel but otherwise remains a mystery. Aiden has to admit, the sex has never been better, and he might even be feeling the beginnings of friendship. He dares to hope that this time, he won't mess things up—if lurking monsters don't ruin his plans.
April 2, 2013
Student bloopers and a giveaway
It's spring break and I've been grading midterms. As I sometimes do, I thought I'd share some of my students' gems of wisdom and creative writing. I've reproduced all of the student work verbatim.
But tomorrow is my release day! My novella Night Shift will be available tomorrow from Dreamspinner, Amazon, and other online sources. For your chance to win an e-copy of Night Shift, all you have to do is leave a comment below, telling me which is your favorite student goof. I'll randomly choose a winner on April 7 at noon Pacific time.
Outgroup homogeneity is:
…the spreading of similar or alike ideas to an outside group.
…the overall drop out of hate group members.
…people who are against gay people or who fear being around gay people.
…a group of people who hat homosexuals.
…a help group to help those who got out of hate groups and don’t want to be like that.
Klan units quickly arouse throughout the South.
The typical hate crime offender is white male, teens to early twenties, could be some kind of loaner with not many friends.
Without [women] to set up all the parties, get togethers, and hoedowns then nothing would ever get done.
The only difference from each other is that in the past not everyone was allowed to be everywhere and not everyone is not matter what skin color you are, but that is the only difference between both.
They aimed for civil rights activist and even boomed places like African American churches as well as Jewish synagogues.
The Skinheads were started in the 1960’s, in England by young white teenagers in their early 20’s.
David Duke is popular in the KKK movement. He believed all Jews were traders.
Lastly, women are more important to produce offspring’s.
Types of hate groups: Nazis, Ky Klux Klan, Red heads, Skin heads, anti-gay groups
Militias were kinda like missional organizations.
Farmingville is a small town where immigration within the town was exploided.
It appears the role women have in organized hate groups play a secondary role compared to men who take on leadership of running there hate groups and making things happen.
The Skinheads were founded in 1865 and peaked around the 1870’s.
Members of the Klan tended to consist of patriarchal men of high power such as Generals, Colonels, college educated men, officer raked military men, a Supreme Court Justice member and even a Presidents.
But tomorrow is my release day! My novella Night Shift will be available tomorrow from Dreamspinner, Amazon, and other online sources. For your chance to win an e-copy of Night Shift, all you have to do is leave a comment below, telling me which is your favorite student goof. I'll randomly choose a winner on April 7 at noon Pacific time.
Outgroup homogeneity is:
…the spreading of similar or alike ideas to an outside group.
…the overall drop out of hate group members.
…people who are against gay people or who fear being around gay people.
…a group of people who hat homosexuals.
…a help group to help those who got out of hate groups and don’t want to be like that.
Klan units quickly arouse throughout the South.
The typical hate crime offender is white male, teens to early twenties, could be some kind of loaner with not many friends.
Without [women] to set up all the parties, get togethers, and hoedowns then nothing would ever get done.
The only difference from each other is that in the past not everyone was allowed to be everywhere and not everyone is not matter what skin color you are, but that is the only difference between both.
They aimed for civil rights activist and even boomed places like African American churches as well as Jewish synagogues.
The Skinheads were started in the 1960’s, in England by young white teenagers in their early 20’s.
David Duke is popular in the KKK movement. He believed all Jews were traders.
Lastly, women are more important to produce offspring’s.
Types of hate groups: Nazis, Ky Klux Klan, Red heads, Skin heads, anti-gay groups
Militias were kinda like missional organizations.
Farmingville is a small town where immigration within the town was exploided.
It appears the role women have in organized hate groups play a secondary role compared to men who take on leadership of running there hate groups and making things happen.
The Skinheads were founded in 1865 and peaked around the 1870’s.
Members of the Klan tended to consist of patriarchal men of high power such as Generals, Colonels, college educated men, officer raked military men, a Supreme Court Justice member and even a Presidents.
April 1, 2013
April Fools
In honor of April Fool’s Day, I’m going to let you in on a little joke I’ve played on the poor protagonist of my new novella, Night Shift.
Here’s the thing. I have always loved the paranormal. Some of the first movies I remember watching as a young kid were the old black-and-white Dracula and Frankenstein films. (No, I wasn’t scared. Disney movies sometimes upset me, though.) I was never one to play with dolls very much, but I had action figures: a Planet of the Apes treehouse and a couple of the Planet of the Apes guys, one human and one ape. I also had a wolfman and a glow-in-the-dark vampire.
As I grew up, I still loved the genre. I am a big-time Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan (ah, Spike!). And Supernatural (ah, Dean!). My first novel with Dreamspinner Press, Good Bones, was about a werewolf, and I’ve written a sequel that will be released soon. And Night Shift also has a paranormal element.
In the paranormal books and movies and TV shows I love, nobody is all that surprised about the various supernatural creatures. For example, when Dylan’s boyfriend Chris finds out at long last that Dylan goes furry once a month, Chris is pissed off that Dylan’s kept the secret from him. But nobody particularly questions that werewolves exist. The reaction generally tends to be mild surprise, like discovering your neighbor is a Scientologist.
This brings me to Aiden Finn. As you read Night Shift—and I do hope you read it!—you’ll fairly quickly have some hunches about the true identity of Aiden’s new friend, Luka. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. But even though Aiden’s not an idiot, the truth doesn’t dawn on him until it’s almost literally biting him in the face. Because really, in actual, true life, would it occur to any of us that our new lover might be a supernatural creature? Of course not! Creatures like that are totally fictional.
That’s the joke I played on Aiden. Here he is, thinking he’s living in real life, when he’s only a hapless character in a paranormal romance.
At least as a character in a romance story, Aiden’s almost guaranteed a happy ending, so maybe he’ll forgive me.
You can preorder Night Shift now atDreamspinner Press. It releases at midnight EDT on April 3.
March 28, 2013
Please welcome Grace R. Duncan!
My guest today is Grace R. Duncan!
I’d like to introduce those of you who haven’t yet read Choices to Hamid and Isam, two of Teman’s gypsy clansmen. They are two of the men who guard the gypsy camp and friends of Teman and Jasim. This is the beginning of a story with them below. More will be available on my blog and website soon. In the meantime, do be sure to leave a comment below for a chance to win some swagand a chance to win a signed paperback copy of Choices!
Isam checked the sun for the umpteenth time that afternoon. It hadn’t moved so much as an inch, but he couldn’t seem to resist. He wanted the afternoon over.
“It doesn’t move that fast, you know,” Hamid said helpfully then chuckled. “What are you so anxious for, anyway?”
Isam sent him a sideways look. “I am tired of guard duty today,” he grumbled, though that was far from the full truth. He needed away from Hamid, not the duties. His closest friend and the man he was in love with was making him absolutely insane.
Because Hamid didn’t know he was in love. Hamid didn’t realize that when bending over to pick something up or stretching or whatever, it made Isam’s cock twitch and mouth water. He’d had to turn around and adjust himself more than once.
And that day was worse than most. Isam hadn’t had much time by himself the last few days and so his normal method of easing his frustrations over his best friend hadn’t been possible. But he was determined that night to find some quiet alone time and ease his tension.
Hamid snorted at him. “Tired of guard duty? You never tire of guard duty. Unless you have your eye on one of the cam—”
Isam growled. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”
Hamid grinned. “No.”
“I never actually did anything with it, you know,” Isam felt the need to say, even though he knew quite well that Hamid was aware of the truth. “The teasing has gotten old.” He turned his back on his friend and paced away.
He listened to the footsteps on the sand, then a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Hamid frowning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it really annoyed you.”
Isam shrugged a shoulder. “It does not matter—”
“It does. I’m sorry. You’re my best friend, I know I’m allowed to tease you, but I should also respect when there are lines not to cross.”
Isam forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you. I am fine, really.”
Hamid silently considered him for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright.” He glanced up at the sun then smiled. “It’s almost time. Why don’t you go. I’ll cover the last bit of time.”
Isam raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go on.” Hamid tilted his head and Isam smiled.
“Thank you. I will see you at dinner, then,” he said as he stepped away.
“See you then.”
Isam hurried to his tent, annoyed to no end when he got there and found his sister inside. “What are you doing here?” Sahla had her own space and it frustrated him when he found her in his.
Sahla looked up and scowled at him. “What do you mean? I have a right to be here.”
Isam’s eyes narrowed and Sahla’s widened. “You have your own tent. This is mine and I would like some privacy.”
Sahla grinned. “Oh! I know why you want privacy!” She laughed as she stood up and picked up her needlework. “Have you told him yet?”
With a sigh, Isam shook his head. “No, and you are not going to, either.”
“Why don’t you?” She asked, rolling her eyes. Isam noted that she still hadn’t moved toward the exit.
“You know why. Now get out.” He scowled when she slowlyput her things back in the basket. “Why do you insist on coming into my tent? What is wrong with yours?”
Sahla made a face. “Ommah is in there. And she insists on talking my ear off, asking me when I’m going to pick one of the handsome clan members and settle down.” She shook her head. “They are all either too old or young boys. Or prefer someone else.” She gave him a pointed look that had him rolling his own eyes.
“Why not find someone, then and shut her up?” He asked, ignoring her look.
She shook her head. “I already told you that no one here interests me. Besides, maybe Jasim will come back and—”
“He is in love, Sahla, I told you. He is not going to leave the empress to come back here.”
Sahla pouted. “How can he be a slave? Doesn’t he care about that?”
Isam sighed. “He is not. Not really. If he wanted to leave, the empress would not care.”
“Well, fine then. Jasim is taken. The only other one I would have wanted apparently doesn’t want me.” She sniffed and picked up her basket. “He is interested in someone else. Or so he tells me.”
Isam raised an eyebrow. “And who would that be?”
Sahla smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Sahla—” Isam scowled.
“Nope. I promised him I wouldn’t tell. You will find out eventually.” And with that, she flounced out of the tent.
Isam sent up a bid for patience with his sister. He loved her dearly, but she could get him to the point of breaking things with very little effort on her part.
The conversation did manage to derail the worst of his frustration from the day, but he knew that wouldn’t last. He tied the flaps closed on his tent and undressed quickly, settling back on his pallet.
With his eyes closed, he brought Hamid’s image to mind, the way his friend looked especially when they were at the oasis swimming. Hamid loved to wear nothing when swimming and they had, on more than one occasion, gone in late at night alone and naked. Isam had a particular memory he loved of Hamid’s long, lean form in the moonlight with water sliding over skin.
That was all it took for Isam’s cock to harden. He bit his lip to stifle sound as he moved his hand over his length, squeezing slightly at the base before he started stroking. He had a favorite fantasy he liked to accompany this and he brought that up as his hand moved over his length with more purpose. His other hand cupped and teased his balls as the Hamid in his fantasy approached him across the sand in the moonlight.
They stood just a foot apart, not touching, not speaking. Hamid’s look was heated, want clear in the hazel eyes. Isam’s gaze met Hamid’s and he dug deep for the courage to reach up and touch his friend’s face. Fingertips danced over damp skin then slid along a cheek to weave through curly wet hair.
A breath of time later, he was in Hamid’s arms, their lips locked in a battle of tongues and teeth and need. Hands mapped muscles and skin and their cocks ground together.
Outside of his fantasy, Isam’s hand sped up, soft grunts slipping out that he was unable to contain. His other hand rolled his balls through his fingers, then slid down to his taint to tease then press on the spot he knew would amplify the pleasure. Another quiet groan escaped and he bit his lip almost brutally to hold it all back.
“Isam…” Hamid whispered as they broke apart, both fighting for breath. Isam met his friend’s eyes and stepped back, taking Hamid’s hand and pulling him toward the blanket where they’d left their things. Hamid followed, eyes never leaving Isam and when Isam felt the fabric under his feet, he sat down and lay back, tugging Hamid with him.
“Hamid,” he murmured when the other man was over him, lips moving over chin and cheek, then making a wet trail over his neck. Hamid ground his cock into Isam’s, pulling a long, loud moan from Isam’s throat.
Isam let another sound out, despite his best attempts and he let go of his cock to slow himself down just a little. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could get time alone again and he was determined to make the most of what he had. His cock twitched in agreement and pre-cum beaded on the tip. He panted hard as he tried to cobble together a bit of control, but the fantasy still played on in his head and he couldn’t seem to stop it.
Hamid dragged his lips over Isam’s chest, teasing the skin and bringing goose bumps to the surface. Isam’s eyes slammed closed as one nipple was pulled between Hamid’s lips and tormented until Isam let out a groan loud enough to be heard across the water. His hands threaded through Hamid’s wet hair as his friend moved further along his body, brushing his lips over Isam’s stomach, causing the muscles to jump. He clenched his jaw, determined to keep quiet, to keep from alerting the camp of their activities but when Hamid paused, hovering over Isam’s cock, eyes full of more heat, Isam released a tiny whimper of need.
Hamid’s lips spread into a smile full of promise, then he opened his mouth and swallowed Isam’s cock in one swift move. “HAMID!” Isam’s eyes slammed closed as the shout let out that he couldn’t have held in for anything.
Isam had no idea he’d said his friend’s name out loud. He took his cock back into his hand and started stroking, this time much faster, unable to hold back. His hips rocked as he did, his other hand teasing his entrance, then moving back along his taint to cup his balls again. Pre-cum flowed from the tip of his cock steadily, easing his hand and every time he got to the tip, the pleasure sharpened further.
Hamid pulled off Isam’s cock and looked up at him, smile spreading at the shout. “Isam?” He called, and Isam forced his eyes open. He met his friend’s eyes and watched as Hamid lowered himself again to Isam’s cock.
Hamid’s tongue came out and he dragged it along the length, teasing another soft groan from Isam’s throat. It made a path over veins, finding every spot Isam had that would make him desperate for more. “Hamid…” he groaned again, hands fisting in the black hair.
“Isam…” Hamid whispered again before going back to what he was doing.
Isam’s hand was nearly flying over his flesh now. He could feel himself getting close, so very close and he knew he’d never get through his whole fantasy. Instead, he focused on the imagined feel of Hamid’s mouth on him and let himself go, let the pleasure start to flood him.
He didn’t register the sound he should have, didn’t notice the shift in light. So he didn’t know that he wasn’t alone when he moaned his dream lover’s name again. It wasn’t until he heard the gasp that he was brought out of his fantasy.
His eyes flew open to stare into Hamid’s. His friend was standing in the entrance to his tent, eyes wide and face a study in pure shock.
Isam lay there, his mortification taking over as he realized what just happened. But he couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to do anything. He just stayed there for a long moment, his cock still hard and still in his hand, his other hand between his legs, fingers at his entrance, and his eyes glued to his friend.
It took him quite a while to realize it, but when he was finally able to tear his eyes away from Hamid’s shocked face, they dropped to see… Hamid was aroused.
His eyes flew back up to meet Hamid’s gaze and they continued to stare at each other in suspended time. Oh no, now what?
Thank you again to Kim for hosting me today! I really appreciate the opportunity to share this story with two of my favorite characters.
* * *
Born and raised a gypsy in the late eleventh century, Teman values freedom over everything. He and his best friend, Jasim, are thieves for hire—until one night they're caught and their precious freedom is revoked. Given the choice between the dungeons or palace pleasure slavery, they become slaves, but Teman vows to escape someday.
Bathasar doesn’t want the throne. He supports his brother instead, which suits their sadistic father, Mukesh. When Teman, the handsome slave Bathasar has secretly been watching, saves his life, Bathasar requests a slave for the first time. Before long, Bathasar and Teman fall in love. But all is not well. One day Mukesh brutalizes Teman before the court, angering the empress of a neighboring nation. To appease her, he then offers her Jasim as a gift, and Teman decides to stay with Bathasar for now—despite the abuse he may suffer.
The peace doesn’t last. Mukesh plans to invade Jasim's new country, and Bathasar must find a way to stop the destruction. But if he succeeds, he'll ascend to the throne and have the power to grant Teman his liberty. Then Teman will surely leave him. What other choice could a gypsy make?
Buy it at the Dreamspinner Press site or through Amazon!
I’d like to introduce those of you who haven’t yet read Choices to Hamid and Isam, two of Teman’s gypsy clansmen. They are two of the men who guard the gypsy camp and friends of Teman and Jasim. This is the beginning of a story with them below. More will be available on my blog and website soon. In the meantime, do be sure to leave a comment below for a chance to win some swagand a chance to win a signed paperback copy of Choices!
Isam checked the sun for the umpteenth time that afternoon. It hadn’t moved so much as an inch, but he couldn’t seem to resist. He wanted the afternoon over.
“It doesn’t move that fast, you know,” Hamid said helpfully then chuckled. “What are you so anxious for, anyway?”
Isam sent him a sideways look. “I am tired of guard duty today,” he grumbled, though that was far from the full truth. He needed away from Hamid, not the duties. His closest friend and the man he was in love with was making him absolutely insane.
Because Hamid didn’t know he was in love. Hamid didn’t realize that when bending over to pick something up or stretching or whatever, it made Isam’s cock twitch and mouth water. He’d had to turn around and adjust himself more than once.
And that day was worse than most. Isam hadn’t had much time by himself the last few days and so his normal method of easing his frustrations over his best friend hadn’t been possible. But he was determined that night to find some quiet alone time and ease his tension.
Hamid snorted at him. “Tired of guard duty? You never tire of guard duty. Unless you have your eye on one of the cam—”
Isam growled. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”
Hamid grinned. “No.”
“I never actually did anything with it, you know,” Isam felt the need to say, even though he knew quite well that Hamid was aware of the truth. “The teasing has gotten old.” He turned his back on his friend and paced away.
He listened to the footsteps on the sand, then a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Hamid frowning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it really annoyed you.”
Isam shrugged a shoulder. “It does not matter—”
“It does. I’m sorry. You’re my best friend, I know I’m allowed to tease you, but I should also respect when there are lines not to cross.”
Isam forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you. I am fine, really.”
Hamid silently considered him for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright.” He glanced up at the sun then smiled. “It’s almost time. Why don’t you go. I’ll cover the last bit of time.”
Isam raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go on.” Hamid tilted his head and Isam smiled.
“Thank you. I will see you at dinner, then,” he said as he stepped away.
“See you then.”
Isam hurried to his tent, annoyed to no end when he got there and found his sister inside. “What are you doing here?” Sahla had her own space and it frustrated him when he found her in his.
Sahla looked up and scowled at him. “What do you mean? I have a right to be here.”
Isam’s eyes narrowed and Sahla’s widened. “You have your own tent. This is mine and I would like some privacy.”
Sahla grinned. “Oh! I know why you want privacy!” She laughed as she stood up and picked up her needlework. “Have you told him yet?”
With a sigh, Isam shook his head. “No, and you are not going to, either.”
“Why don’t you?” She asked, rolling her eyes. Isam noted that she still hadn’t moved toward the exit.
“You know why. Now get out.” He scowled when she slowlyput her things back in the basket. “Why do you insist on coming into my tent? What is wrong with yours?”
Sahla made a face. “Ommah is in there. And she insists on talking my ear off, asking me when I’m going to pick one of the handsome clan members and settle down.” She shook her head. “They are all either too old or young boys. Or prefer someone else.” She gave him a pointed look that had him rolling his own eyes.
“Why not find someone, then and shut her up?” He asked, ignoring her look.
She shook her head. “I already told you that no one here interests me. Besides, maybe Jasim will come back and—”
“He is in love, Sahla, I told you. He is not going to leave the empress to come back here.”
Sahla pouted. “How can he be a slave? Doesn’t he care about that?”
Isam sighed. “He is not. Not really. If he wanted to leave, the empress would not care.”
“Well, fine then. Jasim is taken. The only other one I would have wanted apparently doesn’t want me.” She sniffed and picked up her basket. “He is interested in someone else. Or so he tells me.”
Isam raised an eyebrow. “And who would that be?”
Sahla smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Sahla—” Isam scowled.
“Nope. I promised him I wouldn’t tell. You will find out eventually.” And with that, she flounced out of the tent.
Isam sent up a bid for patience with his sister. He loved her dearly, but she could get him to the point of breaking things with very little effort on her part.
The conversation did manage to derail the worst of his frustration from the day, but he knew that wouldn’t last. He tied the flaps closed on his tent and undressed quickly, settling back on his pallet.
With his eyes closed, he brought Hamid’s image to mind, the way his friend looked especially when they were at the oasis swimming. Hamid loved to wear nothing when swimming and they had, on more than one occasion, gone in late at night alone and naked. Isam had a particular memory he loved of Hamid’s long, lean form in the moonlight with water sliding over skin.
That was all it took for Isam’s cock to harden. He bit his lip to stifle sound as he moved his hand over his length, squeezing slightly at the base before he started stroking. He had a favorite fantasy he liked to accompany this and he brought that up as his hand moved over his length with more purpose. His other hand cupped and teased his balls as the Hamid in his fantasy approached him across the sand in the moonlight.
They stood just a foot apart, not touching, not speaking. Hamid’s look was heated, want clear in the hazel eyes. Isam’s gaze met Hamid’s and he dug deep for the courage to reach up and touch his friend’s face. Fingertips danced over damp skin then slid along a cheek to weave through curly wet hair.
A breath of time later, he was in Hamid’s arms, their lips locked in a battle of tongues and teeth and need. Hands mapped muscles and skin and their cocks ground together.
Outside of his fantasy, Isam’s hand sped up, soft grunts slipping out that he was unable to contain. His other hand rolled his balls through his fingers, then slid down to his taint to tease then press on the spot he knew would amplify the pleasure. Another quiet groan escaped and he bit his lip almost brutally to hold it all back.
“Isam…” Hamid whispered as they broke apart, both fighting for breath. Isam met his friend’s eyes and stepped back, taking Hamid’s hand and pulling him toward the blanket where they’d left their things. Hamid followed, eyes never leaving Isam and when Isam felt the fabric under his feet, he sat down and lay back, tugging Hamid with him.
“Hamid,” he murmured when the other man was over him, lips moving over chin and cheek, then making a wet trail over his neck. Hamid ground his cock into Isam’s, pulling a long, loud moan from Isam’s throat.
Isam let another sound out, despite his best attempts and he let go of his cock to slow himself down just a little. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could get time alone again and he was determined to make the most of what he had. His cock twitched in agreement and pre-cum beaded on the tip. He panted hard as he tried to cobble together a bit of control, but the fantasy still played on in his head and he couldn’t seem to stop it.
Hamid dragged his lips over Isam’s chest, teasing the skin and bringing goose bumps to the surface. Isam’s eyes slammed closed as one nipple was pulled between Hamid’s lips and tormented until Isam let out a groan loud enough to be heard across the water. His hands threaded through Hamid’s wet hair as his friend moved further along his body, brushing his lips over Isam’s stomach, causing the muscles to jump. He clenched his jaw, determined to keep quiet, to keep from alerting the camp of their activities but when Hamid paused, hovering over Isam’s cock, eyes full of more heat, Isam released a tiny whimper of need.
Hamid’s lips spread into a smile full of promise, then he opened his mouth and swallowed Isam’s cock in one swift move. “HAMID!” Isam’s eyes slammed closed as the shout let out that he couldn’t have held in for anything.
Isam had no idea he’d said his friend’s name out loud. He took his cock back into his hand and started stroking, this time much faster, unable to hold back. His hips rocked as he did, his other hand teasing his entrance, then moving back along his taint to cup his balls again. Pre-cum flowed from the tip of his cock steadily, easing his hand and every time he got to the tip, the pleasure sharpened further.
Hamid pulled off Isam’s cock and looked up at him, smile spreading at the shout. “Isam?” He called, and Isam forced his eyes open. He met his friend’s eyes and watched as Hamid lowered himself again to Isam’s cock.
Hamid’s tongue came out and he dragged it along the length, teasing another soft groan from Isam’s throat. It made a path over veins, finding every spot Isam had that would make him desperate for more. “Hamid…” he groaned again, hands fisting in the black hair.
“Isam…” Hamid whispered again before going back to what he was doing.
Isam’s hand was nearly flying over his flesh now. He could feel himself getting close, so very close and he knew he’d never get through his whole fantasy. Instead, he focused on the imagined feel of Hamid’s mouth on him and let himself go, let the pleasure start to flood him.
He didn’t register the sound he should have, didn’t notice the shift in light. So he didn’t know that he wasn’t alone when he moaned his dream lover’s name again. It wasn’t until he heard the gasp that he was brought out of his fantasy.
His eyes flew open to stare into Hamid’s. His friend was standing in the entrance to his tent, eyes wide and face a study in pure shock.
Isam lay there, his mortification taking over as he realized what just happened. But he couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to do anything. He just stayed there for a long moment, his cock still hard and still in his hand, his other hand between his legs, fingers at his entrance, and his eyes glued to his friend.
It took him quite a while to realize it, but when he was finally able to tear his eyes away from Hamid’s shocked face, they dropped to see… Hamid was aroused.
His eyes flew back up to meet Hamid’s gaze and they continued to stare at each other in suspended time. Oh no, now what?
Thank you again to Kim for hosting me today! I really appreciate the opportunity to share this story with two of my favorite characters.
* * *
Born and raised a gypsy in the late eleventh century, Teman values freedom over everything. He and his best friend, Jasim, are thieves for hire—until one night they're caught and their precious freedom is revoked. Given the choice between the dungeons or palace pleasure slavery, they become slaves, but Teman vows to escape someday.
Bathasar doesn’t want the throne. He supports his brother instead, which suits their sadistic father, Mukesh. When Teman, the handsome slave Bathasar has secretly been watching, saves his life, Bathasar requests a slave for the first time. Before long, Bathasar and Teman fall in love. But all is not well. One day Mukesh brutalizes Teman before the court, angering the empress of a neighboring nation. To appease her, he then offers her Jasim as a gift, and Teman decides to stay with Bathasar for now—despite the abuse he may suffer.
The peace doesn’t last. Mukesh plans to invade Jasim's new country, and Bathasar must find a way to stop the destruction. But if he succeeds, he'll ascend to the throne and have the power to grant Teman his liberty. Then Teman will surely leave him. What other choice could a gypsy make?
Buy it at the Dreamspinner Press site or through Amazon!
