Cardeno C.'s Blog, page 135

Reader Reviews by Cardeno C.

Happy Monday, y'all.

Last week, Dreamspinner Press had a great sale, so I decided some serious shopping was in order. There were books I knew I wanted on my wishlist, some writers who are auto-buys for me, and I also some bought certain books because readers told me how much they had enjoyed them. I was thinking you might also appreciate hearing from other readers about their favorite books too, so I posted a request on Facebook and a few reader reviews showed up in my in box.

I'll post those over the next few weeks and make the same request here - if you have a favorite book, please consider sharing your thoughts with other readers. Send me an e-mail and I'll post your review of a wonderful book so other readers can enjoy it. New release, old favorite, doesn't matter. As long as it touched you, made you laugh, or warmed your heart, someone else will appreciate reading it too.

Today, I'm going to share Marieke's review of Faith and Fidelity. I hope you enjoy it (both the book and the review). Leave a comment here, I'm sure Marieke will appreciate reading them.

Faith & Fidelity by Tere Michaels
If you are looking for fun and light reading, this is not your book.

Faith and fidelity starts with a tragedy and sucks you right in the world of pain of one of the main characters, Detective Evan Cerelli. He has been happily married for 15 years when his wife dies in a car crash and leaves him to care for their four children.

When he meets Matt Haight, an ex-cop who lost his job, his home, and basically his entire life, they become drinking buddies.
After many drunken nights, something starts to grow between them. Both straight their whole lives it takes some getting used to their new-found feelings. 
This part of the book is very endearing. Both men are willing but clumsy when it comes to making love. The fact that there are children involved in their lives makes it even harder for them to get this relationship on the road. 
After Evan gets shot on the job Matt steps up to take care of him. But some things happen and everything falls apart.

Thank god there is a happy ending because after all the tears and heartache you get from reading the feelings and actions of both these men, you’ll need it. Faith & Fidelity is very well written and the characters are strong and well defined. You grow to love the men and the children, you’ll feel the love they have for each-other and the kids. 
The struggle with being gay, grief, and in-laws has you captured from the moment you start reading. It will wring the tears out of you but in the end it will all be worth it.

Marieke

Thanks for sharing this review, Marieke. I've read this book (and the other two in the series) and I also enjoyed them very much. - Cardeno C. (www.cardenoc.com)

Leap and the Net Will Appear! by B.G. Thomas

So you dream and the way will be clear
Pray and the angels will hear
Leap and the net will appear
~ Christine Kane

So I was listening to an inspirational speaker one day about two and a half years ago… He wanted to know what it was that we did that made us feel wonderful. That when we did it, we felt connected to electricity or something. That something just started flowing and we hardly knew where it came from. And when we done, when we looked back at whatever it was, we could hardly believe we'd done it. 
Maybe it was dancing or cooking or gardening or painting and singing or…writing. 
He maintained that whatever that "something" was, it was what we were designed to do. And that when we weren't doing it, we were blocking ourselves from what the very Universe created us to do. Sound crazy? For me I guess not so much. His words shocked and invigorated me. I was one of those people—maybe you are too?—who could answer that question really only one way. It was when I was creating stories. 
All I had ever wanted to do was to tell stories, but I kept coming up with reasons why I couldn't. For instance, I told people that there wasn’t market for what I wanted to write. I loved adventure and romance and horror and Westerns. But at the heart of the best of these stories was a love story about a man and a woman. Try as I might, I couldn’t write about that.  
Think about it. Isn't love the heart of so many great movies a love story? Even the Indiana Jones movies or, goodness!, "The Abyss" or "Terminator" or "Avatar" or "Titanic." But for me, I wanted the story where Indiana Jones falls for a guy. Or a man comes back in time to save and world and falls for a man. Or two men fall in love on a doomed ship (but where they both live!).
As I went home that day I realized that what was really blocking me from my good, from pursuing my dreams, was fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of discovering I wasn't good enough. I knew it was time for me to believe in myself. In my hopes and dreams. Isn't it possible I had those dreams because I was created to have them? 
And after all, hadn’t I’d recently discovered the growing market of M/M romance? Saying there was no market for what I wrote wasn’t a reason any more. It was an excuse. 
So I went got online and looked for calls for submissions. I found one where the publisher was looking for stories about "things that go bump in the night." Love stories with vampires or werewolves or witches or ghosts. I knew they'd get a ton of those and figured I better come up with something that fit the theme, but was less typical. 
Well, I've been in love with Egypt since I saw "The Ten Commandments" when I was in fourth grade. I have a ton of books. I even got to go to Egypt for three days some years ago. I would write about a mummy! But not the boring zombie version. No! The Boris Karloff version where there was love and angst and all that. Where the mummy really wasn't so bad. Just looking for love. I researched the hell out of it, and began to write. My story began to unfold where two different men were trapped in hurtful and harmful relationships. Two men who, separated by thousands of years, only really wanted true love. And I found a way to bring them together. 
Then the Universe struck again. As I was writing I was listening to background music and was brought up short when I heard the following lyrics…
Right outta nowhere You open your heart
And that changes everything
You're going somewhere
And all you need to know
Is that you're free to go

And as the song concludes, the marvelous artist Christine Kane quotes an old Buddhist saying: "Leap and the net will appear." 
The words blew me away… I felt as if I were being given a message.  
So I wrote my mummy story and I sent it in and I got one of those automated replies where I was told to wait four to six weeks for a reply and if I didn't hear anything, to write them. But four days later I had my first contract! It was more than I could believe.  
And in two and a half years I've sold seventeen stories! Is that not a sign? Is that not confirmation? 
I've made it a mission in my life that when I hear people talking about their dreams, I step in and tell them to go for it. "Leap and the net WILL appear!" I cry.  
I’m on my way. I don’t yet have the following of writers like Zahra Owens or Cardeno C or Andrew Grey or Amy Lane. But I know my day is coming. I'll write that story that finally throws me into the lime light. And in the meantime I'm doing a lot of leaping and a lot of net landing and having a wonderful time. My life has turned into magick! I've met amazing people. Been blessed with incredible new friendships with people from all over the world. I've gone to New York City and met more wondrous and delightful people. Christine Kane even gave me permission to use her lyrics in one of my stories! 
All this magick due to an inspirational speaker, a singer, and a mummy. Oh. And in believing in myself and taking a chance. 
My first novel, "All Alone in a Sea of Loves" will be released from Dreamspinner Press on October 5th. I can hardly believe it. My heart is racing again as I type these words. 
Listen to me! Whatever your dream? Singing? Dancing? Cooking? Raising children? Teaching? Painting? Writing? 
Do it! Don't wait another day! 
Leap! The net will appear! 
 
Namasté,
BG Thomas
 

Bars and Cards and Conversations! (the strange life of T.C. Blue)

As so often happens in my life, most of the things I find interesting tend to happen in bars. Shocking, I know, but there it is. Tis spends time in establishments where liquid libation flows freely -- or at a small(ish) fee. It's a thing. Haha!
So Tuesday night, I was bored and sort of all wrote-out, and decided to pay a visit to a restaurant at which I worked for a not inconsiderable length of time. (I haven't worked there in years, but I do like to stop by every now and again to say hello to several former 'work-friends' and catch up with some of the regulars.)
The evening started out boringly enough, with me exchanging quips and commentary in the bar there with Evan, one of my favorite bartenders ever. We were good friends when we worked together and he remains one of the most ridiculous and amusing people I've ever known… and that's saying a lot. He's also one of those smart people who pretends to be stupid and that works for him because in addition to being smart, he's one of those smart people who doesn't necessarily make the same connections that the rest of the world does. It's sometimes a question whether he's pretending to be stupid or whether he just doesn't get something, and that's part of what makes hanging out with him so much fun. This post is not about Evan, however. (I tend to veer off on tangents, as anyone who's ever read my stories already knows! Haha!)
Now, the last time I was at the bar in this restaurant, I ended up having a conversation with a 76 year old man who was a staunch Republican. When he asked what I did for a living, I told him. He was a bit baffled by the concept of a heterosexual woman writing gay romance, of course, and couldn't understand why I would find even the idea of 'two men together' to be of interest, much less exciting. He may have started to grasp the concept when I told him that I found it appealing for the same reasons that heterosexual men find two women engaging in sexual activity to be exciting. This was after I mentioned my love of gay porn, though, so perhaps he was pretending to understand out of fear that I would start mentioning -- and describing -- favorite scenes… which I would absolutely do, if pressed. *toothy grin*
That was last time, though. This time…
Well, this time I found myself having a similar but also quite different conversation with another stranger. Actually, two strangers, as it was a married couple. They looked to be in their 50s and were, as is common at this particular establishment, very nicely dressed and clearly quite well educated. Here's how it happened…
So I'm bantering with Evan (see, there was a purpose to mentioning him after all!) and he asked me what I was working on. I told him about a few of my projects in progress and he pulled a disappointed and sad face so exaggerated that I wanted to buy him a balloon and give him a puppy. Then he asked me why, since I like writing about gay dudes, I wasn't including bondage and fisting and various other things in my stories. (I didn't ask him why he wanted to know, or even how he knew about these things. I figure that's his business, and there are so many different flavors of kink out there, it'd be more shocking if he didn't know of them. I admit to being curious as to why he seemingly assumes that all gay people share these kinks, but again, I didn't ask. I don't want to know that he's arrived at that conclusion through some sort of prejudice, because honestly, he had this look on his face that was both disturbed but curious when he asked, and I like Evan. I don't want to have to beat him with a stick for being a closed-minded asshat, if that is indeed what he is. This is one situation in which I can live with the concept of "don't ask, don't tell." Happily. Until such a time as I have the opportunity to educate him, or learn that he was fucking with me, because that's not outside the realm of possibility, either.)
So Evan asked me why I don't write BDSM and such, and I told him "That's not my world. I don't know enough about those things to write them responsibly. Besides, there are plenty of people who do write that. Pretty much every kink is covered, somewhere within the genre, and while they're all equally valid, I could never do them justice." Or not without a whole lot of personal research, which just doesn't appeal to me, to be honest. Different strokes and all that, right?
So a few other people queued up at the end of the bar and Evan sauntered off to take care of their drink orders, and that's when this married couple pounced… in the figurative sense, of course.
They'd been dropping eaves during my chat with Evan, and doing it really, really well. They were fascinated that I write gay romances, but even more fascinated by the idea that just because something isn't my cuppa, I don't label it as bad or wrong on general principles. That being so, I wracked my brain, trying to find a simple way to explain the why of it.
"It's kind of like playing cards," I said (and this is, of course, merely to the best of my recollection and encompasses the spirit of what I was saying, rather than being a verbatim account). They seemed confused -- the man moreso than the woman. "See, there are hundreds of card games as well as variations within the same game, but they're all played with cards, right?" They agreed that this is, indeed, so.
"Some people like poker, some people like blackjack, or whatever." (I don't play cards myself, but still.) "So let's say you're a poker player. Nothing wrong with that, is there? It's poker. But say you love five card stud. You enjoy it, it's fun, and it usually goes well for you. Now let's say you've got a friend who likes Texas Holdem' and you decide to give it a shot one day. You play a few times, decide it's not for you, and you go back to playing five card stud because that's your game. You enjoy it more than your friend's preferred game. Does liking five card stud make you better or more worthy than your friend who plays Texas Holdem'?"
Of course not, they answered. It just means the friend likes a different kind of poker.
"Exactly," I said. "Now, even within five card stud, there are variations, right? Something like… I don't know. Deuces and one-eyed Jacks are wild or whatever. But that's not your game of choice. Does that mean the people who play five card stud with deuces and one-eyed Jacks wild are in some way inferior to you?"
Of course not, they said. Again.
"So you've got cards, and you've got all sorts of variations on poker, and each of those variations is just as valid as the rest, as long as everyone playing knows the rules and wants to be engaged in whatever the game may be. Playing Texas Holdem' or five card stud, or blackjack, or whatever other card game, it's all still just cards. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
Unless someone's addicted to gambling, the woman said. Unless they can't help but play even when they know they shouldn't.
"True." (Me again.) "But that's the price of living, isn't it? Cards, alcohol, drugs… whatever is out there, someone somewhere is going to take it too far. But just because someone gambles away their house or car or life's savings, does that make every card game bad or wrong?"
Again with the of course nots.
"Okay. So replace 'cards' with 'sex'. Sex is sex. It's fun and people enjoy it, just as we're supposed to. But just like cards, sex has hundreds of variations, if not more. None of those variations are any less valid than whichever one you prefer. They're just different. So let's say that you two don't care for bondage. That's fine. You don't have to. But that doesn't mean that other people shouldn't enjoy it if that's what floats their boat. And that applies to any other kink out there."
What about pedophiles? (I was actually expecting this question. Honestly, I was just glad they didn't bring up bestiality, cuz that makes me a wee bit queasy.)
For the record, pedophilia isn't a kink. I believe it to be a mental disorder, and as such it's in an entirely different class than 'kink'. Same applies to bestiality, and I said so.
"The point is," I finally said (at this point, we were four drinks in), "I can't in good conscience cast aspersions, here. There is no one right way for consenting adults to express themselves sexually. The important words are 'consenting' and 'adults'. What some people get up to together may very well baffle the hell out of others. It might even seem weird or gross or whatever. But that doesn't matter. It's not up to me to say what other people -- by which I mean those who are not me -- can and can't do with each other as long as they're willing participants. Just like it's not my place to say that no man can ever have sex with a woman because some guys are rapists, you know? It's not the acts themselves that are wrong. It's when those acts are forced upon someone who's not willing that makes it wrong. Simple concept, right?"
They agreed that it sounded simple and we moved on to other subjects. They're actually a very nice couple and we ended up chatting away for close to two hours, in all. We may very well end up running into each other again, as they've recently moved to the area and that particular bar/restaurant is only three blocks from their new home.
I don't know whether our conversation gave them cause to think about everything, beyond that brief span of time during which we talked cards. I don't know whether they took what I said to its logical conclusion, meaning… consenting adults aren't always of opposite genders and it doesn't matter. Hetero, homo, whatever. As long as they're consenting, whatever happens is completely valid and acceptable, regardless of whether it mike make someone else uncomfortable.
I hope they did, and to be honest, it seems likely. They did compliment me on the sticker on my bag as I was leaving the bar. I'd forgotten it was there, honestly. I'd thought I'd removed after I finished canvassing for Marylanders for Marriage Equality on Saturday.
Is it strange that I have these sorts of conversations all the time? *ponders*
Anyway, who's up for Blackjack? Haha!

Welcome to Spicy Wednesday at Café Risque!Happy Hump Day ...

Welcome to Spicy Wednesday at Café Risque!

Happy Hump Day Everybody!  I can’t believe it’s September 19th already, but boy am I’m getting excited about the fall. Okay, so putting the seasons aside, I’m more excited about my BFF and favorite author in the whole wide world Jo Peterson’s new book called “Jess’s Journey” coming out in early October. Jess’s Journey is the next book in the Whispering Pines Ranch series and is the sequel to Conner’s Courage. She’s doing me a big favor and giving you all a sneak peak before it hits the shelves. Jo, you rock.
Blurb -At an early age, Jess Jenkins learned to take care of his family and friends and put their needs before his own. He dreamed of finding the same simple happiness his parents had and followed their example. Then Lorcan James broke his heart and an automobile accident broke his independent spirit. Now that’s all Jess is: a broken shadow of the man he used to be, still confined to a wheelchair after six months.
Jess is finally forced to put himself first and accept the help he needs on his journey toward recovery. Though pain, frustration, and depression leave him bitter and eager to push people away, his friends refuse to allow him to wallow in self-pity. Jack has only glimpsed the man beneath Jess’s angry shell, but he takes it upon himself to prove Jess isn’t broken. And Collin is determined to bring back the sweet man he once knew. The simple, happy life Jess has always wanted is there for the taking—all he has to do is open his eyes and see it.
Excerpt - CREAM walls were mixed with warm earth-tone shades of brown, yellow, and green that highlighted the bedding, furniture, and accessories. The room was designed to be soothing, cozy, and Jess Jenkins hated every detail of it. The small two-hundred-square-foot room had been his home for over four months, and nearly every waking moment of those 137 days, all he wanted to do was leave. Every thought and action he’d experienced was centered on one or both of two things: walking again and leaving the Tulsa Rehabilitation Center. Today he’d finally reached at least one of his goals—he was going home. Although he had worked his ass off to get to this point, and it was what he wanted, he was also scared shitless to leave. So much had happened since he’d gotten behind the wheel of his truck six months ago. What should have been a thirty-minute errand turned out to be a journey into hell.
Preparing to restart his life, Jess took in his suitcase sitting by the door and couldn’t help but reflect on how he had ended up here, a forever-changed man. From his earliest memories, he’d always been the kind of person who put the needs of others before his own desires. His mom had been the same way, always putting Jess and his dad before her own dreams. Victoria Jenkins had lived a good life, had found her pleasure in caring and loving those in her life, and Jess always dreamed of finding the same love and happiness out of simplicity. He hadn’t strived for something he thought was unrealistic or impossible. To own a small piece of land, to share his life and love with that one special person had been what he’d desired most in life; instead, he’d lived his life for others.College hadn’t been his idea; it had been his father’s dream. Since first tossing a ball with his dad on the front lawn, he’d loved football. Given his height, large frame, and powerful body, he was a natural defensive tackle and damn good in that position. Jess had been proud of the fact that he’d been scouted and his hard work on the football field had been recognized in the form of a full-ride scholarship to Auburn University. Yet, if he’d had his way, he would have declined the offer. Instead, he’d packed his bags, left the job he loved as a ranch hand, and headed to Auburn, Alabama, the fall after his senior year of high school. He left Pegasus, not out of any need of his own, but rather to fulfill his dad’s dream of seeing his son become the first one in their family to attend college. He never admitted it to his dad, but one of the happiest moments in his life had been when he blew his knee out during his sophomore year. One part of him had mourned the end of his football career; the other side—his true side—celebrated. The injury meant he could return to Pegasus and to his true dream: ranching.
Even Jess’s one long-term relationship hadn’t been about what he truly wanted but what he thought his lover needed. Jess rolled his wheelchair to the large window that overlooked the back gardens of the rehab center, a place he’d spent hours in, dreaming about the moment when he could return home. His gaze settled on the large oaks. Beneath their branches is where he’d sat and acknowledged his heartbreak and guilt over Lorcan James.
The first moment he’d spotted the tall, slender man with warm brown eyes and the most gorgeous fall of chestnut hair he’d ever seen, Jess had been smitten. Jess smiled when he remembered just how smitten he’d been. It had been obvious by the first words that had popped out of his mouth—“I think I’m in love.” He’d never seen a more beautiful man, in print, on screen, or in life, as Lorcan; to this day, it was still true. After long hours spent reflecting on his relationship, Jess realized it was the sadness in Lorcan’s gaze that had called to Jess. The pain in those tormented brown eyes prompted him to act. Even before they spoke a single word to each other, Jess had known Lorcan was in love with Quinn Taylor. It was written all over the younger man’s face each time he looked at the ranch owner. Still, Jess had pursued him. He hated seeing the hurt in Lorcan’s eyes, knew what it felt like to love the wrong person and, through that shared experience, they became not only lovers but also best friends. What they never found together was true love. It was the reason he’d cut him out of his life the way he had in a “Dear John,” or rather a “Dear Lorcan,” letter.
The special bond between them was what kept Lorcan at Jess’s side after his accident. Did Lorcan love him? Absolutely, as much as he could, and Jess in turn loved him, but not the way a man should love his partner. Lorcan would have never walked away; the man was just too caring to do something like turn his back on a friend. Their bond also would have resulted in Lorcan throwing away his chance at true love. Jess couldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t allow his friend to settle and put the needs of others before his own as Jess had done. The words he’d written in his letter still rang true.
Remember when I told you our hearts don’t always pick the right person for us? In your case, your heart picked exactly the right person for you. A year ago, Quinn didn’t deserve someone like you, but he does now, pretty boy. He has stood beside you the entire time you were standing by me. Quinn didn’t take my accident as an excuse to move in and try to steal you away. He was patient, loving, and a friend to you when you needed one the most. Even though he wanted more, he put you and your needs first. He’s a good man and finally became the man your heart always knew he was. Do you honestly think I would trust Quinn with your heart again if I didn’t think he was worthy? Never! I love you, and you will always be my best friend. You belong with Quinn. I always knew that. The accident was my wake-up call. Life is too short to settle, and next time, I won’t settle for anything less than someone loving me the way you love Quinn.
Knowing how things had turned out between Lorcan and Quinn and how Jess was able to concentrate on healing instead of worrying, reinforced his belief that committing those words to paper had been the right thing to do. Jess’s chest tightened with a twinge of loss as he continued to stare out over the garden, but he didn’t regret setting Lorcan free. This place, especially the majestic oaks, would always have a special meaning for him. It was where he not only dealt with his heartbreak at what he’d lost, but also where he set aside those feelings and his guilt. Please let me be selfish for the first time in my life. Jess nodded as the words he used to end his letter to Lorcan flittered through his mind. He was being selfish. He was putting his needs first.
Jess turned away from the window at the sound of the door opening and smiled up at Jack as he entered the room. Pushing the morose feeling aside, Jess concentrated on his excitement. “Please tell me you’ve got the truck running.”
“A little impatient, are we?” Jack laughed, then flopped down in the leather chair next to the bed.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What?” Jack asked, confused.
Maneuvering his chair until he was directly in front of Jack, he glared at him. “Sitting! I’m ready to go, dammit.”
Jack shrugged. “We have to wait for Dr. Savona to write the ’scripts for your meds.”He needed to leave before the fear and uncertainty, which had been simmering just below the surface, reared their ugly heads. Don’t go there. We’re going home. When Jack grabbed the remote off the bedside table and clicked on the TV, Jess wanted to thrash the man. If he thought it would do any good, he would. Jack didn’t let the little shit bother him, never raised his voice or took Jess’s verbal attacks personally. Irritating bastard!
“Can’t he just call them in?” Jess bit out through gritted teeth. “I’m ready to go.”
The urge to beat the man increased when Jack gave him an exasperated look and replied, “And we all know the world revolves around you,” before turning his attention back to the TV.
“Ugh!”
Jack ignored him.
Jesus, the man drove him nuts. He’d been like this since Jack first introduced himself as Jess’s physical therapist back at Monroe General shortly after Jess had woken from his coma. The man never cut him a bit of slack or felt sorry for Jess, and maybe that was why he’d been compelled to spill his guts to Jack about Lorcan shortly after they met. After working with Jack for little more than a week, Jack had asked, “I take it Lorcan gets the privilege of both your Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?” Jack had been teasing, but it had hit home for Jess, and the next thing he knew, he was sharing his fears with this virtual stranger.
Jack was no longer a stranger—coming to Tulsa with him as Jess’s private physical therapist and planning to continue that role once Jess returned home—but they no longer talked about Lorcan. In fact, they rarely talked about anything personal. Still, even though Jack drove him nuts, Jess had also come to depend on him. A sly grin curled Jess’s lip; he knew how to aggravate Jack as much as the man did him.Grabbing his exercise ball from the dresser, Jess threw it at the wall above Jack’s head, snatching it out of the air before throwing it again. Thump catch. Thump catch. After the tenth time Jess threw the ball and Jack still hadn’t responded—although his body had lost the relaxed look—Jess added a chant.
Thump catch. “Oh yeah!”
Thump catch. “God, I’m good.”
Thump catch. “Come to daddy.”
The volume went up on the TV, and Jack began to tap his fingers against the armrest, but he continued to ignore Jess.
Thump catch. Thump catch. You stubborn shit, ignore this. Jess sang to the tune of Max Davis’s song “It’s Hard to be Humble” at the top of his lungs, adding his own spin on the song.
“Oh Lord, it’s hard to be me, when you have to put up with Jack every day.”Thump catch.
“I can’t wait to get out of this place, ’cause I need a break from his face.”Thump catch.
“To know Jack is to suffer. I must have bad karma coming my way.”Thump catch.
“Oh Lord, it’s hard to be me, when I have to deal with him each day of the week.”ThumpJack snatched the ball out of the air, and in one fluid movement threw it into the open door of the bathroom, then went to his feet. “Good God, man. Are you a child?”“No, I want to go home.” Jess paused, then grinned up at Jack. “Okay, so that sounded like a petulant three-year-old.”
Shaking his head, Jack moved to the door. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do about getting them to call in your ’scripts.” He opened the door but before he stepped out, he gave Jess an evil grin. “Collin’s not here yet. Maybe you should call him and sing to him.”Jess laughed as Jack shut the door. If he could get Jack to do what he wanted, Collin would be a piece of cake. He pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and dialed Collin’s cell number. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Jess. I’m sorry I’m late. There was an accident and—” A loud thud came through the phone followed by “Shit!” from a distance.
There was a sound that reminded Jess of the flapping of wings, followed by another ripe curse, and finally Collin returned to the phone. “Sorry, I dropped my phone.” Cluck “No!
Come back here. Dammit.”
“Was that a chicken?”
“Yeah.” Collin groaned. “A truckload of them overturned and there are scared chickens running around everywhere. I was trying to help catch them.” Collin huffed out a breath.
“I’m not doing so well.”
The image of Collin blowing his bangs out of his flushed face had Jess biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the frustration in Collin’s voice. The kid had been born with two left feet. Collin had always followed his older brother Josh and Jess around when they were in high school. The youngster—in middle school at the time—wanted to play football, but Collin, although he tried hard, had zero coordination. Another image of clumsy Collin running around chasing chickens popped in his head, and Jess couldn’t hold back his burst of laughter.
“I probably should just get back in the truck and go around, huh?”
“That’s probably for the best.”
“On my way.”
Jess ended the call and burst out in another fit of laughter. Poor Collin. Jess was still laughing when Jack returned, but it died in his throat when Jack handed him his discharge papers and announced, “You’re all set to leave.”Sweat popped out on Jess’s brow, and his hand shook slightly as he accepted the form. His fear slightly overshadowed the excitement for a moment. Deep breath. Jess met Jack’s eyes, saw the compassion and understanding in his dark orbs. Knowing both Jack and Collin would be staying at the ranch with him until he settled in was the only thing keeping his fear from consuming him. Taking another deep breath, he folded the paper, tucked it in the pocket of his shirt, and nodded. He was ready to go home.

Roasted Chickpeas and Broccoli by Cardeno C.

Happy Monday, everybody. Today is a recipe day. This is one I got from Sam Shell and tweaked just a bit. Thanks, Sam! 
Ingredients
1 lb broccoli cut into large spears, stems chopped into 1/2 size pieces (Sam uses frozen, I used fresh, both worked fine)

a bulb of garlic, separate into cloves, skins removed (if any of the cloves are huge, cut in half length-wise otherwise leave them as whole cloves)

1 (15 ounce) can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon salt (I used garlic salt)

black pepper to taste

1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano (I used fresh once and it was good too)

2 teaspoons lemon zest (optional; I used more than 2 tsp)

1lb brussel sprouts (optional; Sam makes w/out these, but I love them so I add them)

1 cup dried cranberries (optional; recipe is good w/out these, but I like the zing they add)

1 cup vegetable broth

InstructionsPreheat oven 400F

Place broccoli (and brussel sprouts and cranberries, if using), garlic, and chickpeas in a 9x13 pan. Drizzle with oil and toss to coat. Sprinkle with salt, several pinches of black pepper, oregano, and lemon zest, if using. Again, toss to coat.

Bake for 15 minutes, take it out, and toss. Return to the oven for another 15 minutes, take it out, toss, and then add vegetable broth. Return to oven again for final 15. (That’s 15 minutes, toss, 15 minutes, toss and add broth, and 15 minutes for a total baking time of 45 minutes.)

Sam serves this with rice. I’ve served it with quinoa, with pasta, and with fake chicken. Hope you enjoy!

CC

www.cardenoc.com

Hot Silver Guys and the Men Who Love Them and Keeping a Character’s Integrity by Patricia Logan, Guest Author

You know, sometimes, as an author, a character will speak to you. He will inevitably tell you… “Hey, write a book about me, woman!” I try to ignore those crazy kids in my head but they don’t listen, the brats. As a reader, I admire authors who tell me about their characters and get deep inside their heads. Sometimes, it takes a whole book… sometimes (growls) it takes a whole series of books to learn about the characters and their hearts. I love those authors and I will become a forever fan because of it. I try to do the same thing… bring people into my story by telling their stories in a compelling way.

So I have this brat, Michael, a really nasty guy from “The Cowboy Queen” and he’s been in my head saying… “Patti, you’re not done with me yet!” I’ve been resisting because I really don’t like him… at ALL. And then, I have this wonderful older 40ish cop named Tyler Winston, who’s appeared in every book so far as a sweet, smart, handsome secondary character… the kind of guy who ties all the other books together with his wisdom, always on the case, the perfect cop.

As I was finishing up “The Cowboy Queen” earlier this year, a fan and fellow author, Seymour James, hits me up and tells me, “girl, you gotta give us Tyler’s story”… perfect except I write gay books and Tyler is… Hello? Straight and married… to a woman. I automatically dismiss this for several months and then… *drum roll* the brat, Michael starts speaking to me… “give me a story… give me a story…” He doesn’t deserve it, he was awful in his last book but whom but for Tyler, my hotter than hot, super cop, can whip Michael into line?

These voices in my head… oy vey! I was sitting at a beachside bar a month ago with my very own Master Po, GA Hauser, a good friend, who just finished shooting a full length feature movie for “Capital Games”, her first gay movie from the “Action” series. So, this grasshopper asks, A, did you ever have this dilemma? Silly, really, since I already know the answer… can you write a character who “turns” gay or is “gay for me” (a phrase that I despise). She’s done it several times and done it well.

“Of course!” she says, waving a hand over her microbrew. “An author can do anything and don’t you forget it, Grasshopper!” She’s mentored me, almost from the beginning of my writing career… (career… laughs lightly) and she’s broken every single rule of the game. She’s beat the critics, she’s turned out books with underage characters, she’s written twincest and other forbidden stories and guess what? It has all worked to make her a stand alone in this field.

So, I ask? Can I write a story for a straight guy who finds gay love? Yes… yes… yes I can!

My love for hot older guys is legendary. I post their hot pics daily on FB and other social media… everyone knows I love the silver guys. The thought of them with young pups and the lust the young ones have for them is pretty amazing when you think about it. Who doesn’t love a May/December romance? Yep. These guys are hot. I thought that my former Navy SEAL’s deserved a series of their own which is why I decided on the Silver’s series. I hope you enjoy my hot older guys!

Silver Bullets by Patricia Logan
Sexy, selfish Michael Francis has hit rock bottom. His boyfriend has dumped him, stolen all his money and his career as a super model has come to a screeching halt. Tyler Winston, macho Texas lawman, has lost the only love he’s ever had and the shocking memories of his long buried past have come back to haunt him. Set on a collision course, can these two broken men find common ground and begin to heal each other or will a ruthless killer part them forever?

Adult Excerpt (get the fans ready folks, this one's hot):
“It’s sexy, you all dressed up in your uniform. I love it when I see you with your badge pinned to your belt, knowing that you carry a gun and that you are so fucking powerful and strong under that suit.” Michael ran his hands through Tyler’s chest hair as Tyler crawled over him and straddled his hips, letting their cocks touch. Tyler grinned down at him, knowing from the twinkle in Michael’s eyes that many men had cop fantasies. Tyler wondered if he was a fantasy for his young lover. He reached down and circled both of Michael’s wrists in his large hands, drawing them over his head as he leaned down to take charge of Michael’s mouth. He kissed him long and deep, learning his mouth well until Michael humped him and groaned. 
“You got cop fantasies Michael?” Tyler growled. Michael nodded his head vigorously and bit his lower lip.

“Fuck yeah,” he panted.

“Want me to handcuff you and force you to suck my dick, scumbag? Lick my hot hole and fuck you hard against the bars? Huh scum, that what you want?” Michael was clearly into Tyler’s dirty cop talk and the whole role playing fantasy. He was whimpering and grinding his leaking rock hard erection against Tyler’s.
You can buy Silver Bullets here: http://www.amazon.com/Silver-Bullets-Series-ebook/dp/B0092UWWW8

COCK! (from T.C. Blue)

  
So, Kiernan's first post here at Cafe Risque shared a similar title, though hers was 'PENIS!'
Mine is slightly different in that I've titled it 'COCKS!' LOL
It's also different in that I'm not talking about how much we all love them, though if you're here and read within the M/M genre, you likely have a deep and abiding love of cock. I hope so, anyway. *grins*
What I'm talking about today is something a long-ago review mentioned. To be honest, I don't really recall whether it was a review of one of my books or a review for a book one of my friends wrote. That's how long ago it was. Heh-heh.
So here's the thing (and it's not just that it was mentioned in that ages-old review but that I've noticed it -- and done it -- myself).
There seems to be a convention of sorts within the gay romance genre where one guy has a fat cock and the other a longer, thinner one. I see it all the time. I write it all the time. I'm not sure where it comes from. (The convention, not the cock. I know exactly where the cock comes… from.) Or should I say I'm not sure from whence it originates? *ponders proper English/grammar* Even with this lack of knowledge, I feel this urge to explain. From my own perspective.
Now, having had sex more than once (even more than twice, hard as that may be to believe… oh, okay, I'm not giving numbers because it would make me sound -- deservedly so -- like a complete slut), I've had ample opportunity to sample the many sizes, widths, and qualities of cock. And if you think there's no such thing as 'quality of cock'? You and I need to have a long, drunken conversation one night. Seriously.
So, considering this wealth of research I took it upon myself to conduct in my more youthful days, I claim myself to be qualified to discuss the merits of various sorts of cocks and my own reasons for assigning the 'shorter but thicker' and 'thinner but longer' stereotypes to my characters. (This is obviously different in the threesomes I've written, and we're NOT getting into any research I may or may not have done that would apply to those instances! :P)
See, as far as I'm concerned, I like my guys to experience the best of both worlds. I don't want cock-drama rearing its ugly head(s). (Excuse the pun-ish nature of that comment. Please.) So my guys are always happy with whatever their partner has… or become happy with it, if they're not right at first. (At the risk of over-sharing, my favorite ex wasn't hung like a bull. He was actually smaller than average in that area. He was still amazing and the best sex I've ever had. The sex had nothing to do with why we broke up. The real reason is a story for another time, and trust me, that time will come. Let's just say there's a reason I don't write about cheating. Heh.)
So usually, in my couple-books, one guy has a fat cock that's not overly long while the other had a long cock that's not overly fat. Invariably, the one with the long cock loves the width of his (prospective) partner, while the other guy loves the gut-probing length of the first (Um, okay. Gut-probing may be a bit much. :P). It creates a balance between them -- length balancing width. An equality, if you will, just as one person being a great painter can be balanced by their counterpart being a great… cop or doctor or actor or singer.
So that's MY reasoning. It's all about balance.
Obviously, I can't speak for anyone else, but I'd love to hear what you guys think. Is it too predictable? Too trite? Too much a trope? Or am I just being too sensitive, wanting things to be perfect? How do you guys feel about this? Enquiring minds want to know! :P    ~Tis

Welcome to Spicy Wednesday withScotty Cade at Café Risque...

Welcome to Spicy Wednesday withScotty Cade at Café Risque!

Happy Happy Wednesday! The weatehr is simply georgeous here on Martha’s Vineyard and the crowds are starting to disapate allowing us to all breathe again. I hope everyone is enjoying this morning as much as I am and has coffee in hand. Just to prepare you, today I doing my first shameless plug for my new book called “An Unconventional Courtship” coming out in mid October. Just in time for GayRomLit, I might add. I know what you’re thinking, hocking his own wares, but hey we have to do what we have to do. So without further adieu let me bring to the Café Risque boards, Me!
Okay, so all kidding aside, for those of you who know me, you all know I left corporate America to purchase and inn and restaurant, but this book stems from my time in the corporate world. The characters are all real, good or bad, but of course I’ve changed their names to protect the guilty and the love affair is fictional, but all the rest of the characters can be found alive and well in corporations all across our great country. Here we go, I hope you enjoy.

Blurb:  Tristan Moreau loves his job as chief administrative officer and personal assistant to Webber Kincaid, President, Chairman, and CEO of Kincaid International. It would be the perfect job… if only he hadn’t fallen in love with his boss as well as the work. After two years, he’s still doing everything in his power to keep his feelings hidden—mostly because he wants to protect the reputation of his famous boss but also because he wants to keep his job. Webber Kincaid has stayed in the closet, using his best friend and confidante as his beard. Everything in his life was working out just fine until he met Tristan Moreau. Within months, Tristan stole his heart and became his lifeline. But Webber knows the rules of the workplace better than anyone, so he’s kept his distance. But two years is too long to wonder “what if?”—especially when business takes them to a private Caribbean island. When Tristan and Webber succumb to the tropical heat, their professionalism starts to backslide. It’s a seemingly impossible relationship, making a go at it under the paparazzi’s microscope. It may be the best—or the worst—business decision they ever made.
Excerpt:
TRISTAN had been studying financial reports since he’d arrived at work a little after seven that morning. He blinked a couple of times in an attempt to keep the lines from running together, but it was no use. Accepting that he’d reached his limit and needed a short break, he hesitantly put down his pencil, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. “I’ve got to get through this,” he whispered to himself as he ran both hands through his thick brown hair, stopping at the base of his neck and massaging the knot that had formed between his shoulder blades.One last squeeze to his tired muscles and he turned in his chair and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the credenza. He glanced around his spacious office and realized the sun had set and the moon was high in the deep blue Atlanta sky. What happened to the daylight? He lifted his wrist and stared at his watch as if what he was seeing was somehow wrong. Nine thirty-eight?Shaking his head in amazement at the time, he stared momentarily at the beautiful downtown skyline. He downed the last of his water and turned back to the work at hand. Spreadsheets and other paperwork, illuminated only by a small lamp perched on the corner of his desk, completely covered his work surface.He remembered switching the overhead lights off when he left his office somewhere around three o’clock to grab a quick salad, but when he returned he’d heard his phone ringing from down the hall and ran for his desk to answer it, never bothering to turn the lights on again. One call led to another, and then something else urgently needed his attention, and everything led up to this moment in time. Another Friday night working alone in my office. I’ve got to get a life.Refilling his water, he looked around again and decided that he didn’t mind the dimly lit office. He’d always hated the harshness of the overhead florescent lighting universally used in every office building in the world, and he cherished the times when his coworkers were gone and he could loosen his tie, crank up his small stereo, and simply get lost in his work. He turned again to his desk and the waiting pile of financials he’d been evaluating for the upcoming board meeting, along with the smaller stack of things to do that had been continually building up since the beginning of the week. Slowly pushing away from his desk, he walked over to the bookcase on the opposite wall and scanned his stack of CDs. He settled on Etta James, and in a few seconds, her soulful sound filled his ears as she sang “Sunday Kind of Love.” He kicked his shoes off and returned to his desk. Comfortably sitting cross- legged in his chair, he studied what was in front of him. He felt a twinge of anxiety realizing just how much work he still had left to do before the board meeting on Tuesday and the earnings release on Wednesday. I’ve got three full days if I work through the weekend and that should be just enough time to get everything done. He relaxed momentarily, and then looked at his to-do list again and realized he hadn’t even started on the script for the conference call with the industry analysts scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. He sighed and picked up his pencil.As he worked, the world outside of his office was silent with the exception of the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner and the muffled voices of the janitorial staff milling about emptying trashcans and exchanging polite conversation. Every single associate had left hours ago. Some early in the afternoon, excited to be heading out of town for the long Memorial Day weekend, while others who weren’t leaving town opted for a three-day weekend at home. Just before five o’clock, someone down the hall had shouted “happy hour downstairs,” which meant the Agency Lounge in the lobby of the Kincaid building would be hopping for the next few hours.With no plans to go away for the weekend because of his current workload, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t in the mood for happy hour, he hunkered down, resigned to a long night of burning the midnight oil. Time passed by slowly as he finished one task and closed the file, sorting through the untouched pile, categorizing file folders and prioritizing what he would attempt to finish tonight and what he would work on over the long weekend. Tristan was the ultimate professional. He’d graduated at the top of his class with a degree in business administration and was very career driven. Since taking this job, he’d kept his personal life to a minimum and didn’t allow himself many distractions from his work. He was learning everything he could about mergers and acquisitions and one day hoped to head the business development group at Kincaid International. The only caveat to his picture-perfect career was that over the last two years, after fighting it tooth and nail, he’d somehow managed to fall hopelessly in love with his boss. Of course his boss didn’t know Tristan was in love with him, and he never would. The pain from his first love, while no longer front and center, was still a strong enough memory after seven years to keep him from ever going down that path again. But not giving in to it didn’t make it any less real. He was resigned to the fact that all he could do was love from afar while taking advantage of any opportunity to work alongside him and that would have to be enough.With Etta James still singing in the background, he was completely lost in his work when the muffled sound of the phone buried in a mound of paperwork startled him. He glanced at his watch again, deciding on whether he wanted to answer it or just let it go to voicemail. Its nine fifty-five on the Friday night of a holiday weekend. Who could be calling at this hour?He dug through the paperwork so he could read the display on the caller ID, and then a slight smile formed on his lips. He quickly reached for the phone. “Webber Kincaid’s office, this is Tristan.”“Why in the hell are you still at work, Tris?” A strong familiar voice said wryly. “It’s ten o’clock on Friday night.”Before he could answer, the chastising voice added, “Friday night of a holiday weekend no less.”His smile broadened and his heart began to flutter. He shook his head in amazement as the caring voice on the phone sent the blood rushing right to his groin. God, after all this time just hearing his voice still does this to me. He looked at his watch again and did a quick calculation, “Good afternoon, Web,” he moaned with a smile on his face. “How’s Australia?”Webber James Kincaid was the chairman of the board, president, and CEO of Kincaid International Corporation and just happened to be his boss and the man he was secretly in love with. KIC, as it was commonly called, was a major advertising holding company owning about 40 percent of the largest advertising agencies in the world. With Webber at the helm, it had become a major force to be reckoned with and in the past five years had grown in leaps and bounds.Tristan’s official title was chief administrative assistant, but in actuality, he was Webber’s guy Friday. He’d worked by his side many long hours, innocently at first, soaking up the knowledge freely being passed on to him. But somewhere along the way, during the many hours they’d spent together, he’d fallen head over heels in love, and his job became every bit as much about spending time with Webber as it had been about learning all he could from the master. On a daily basis, he struggled to hide his feelings where his boss was concerned, and so far, to his knowledge, he’d succeeded. He didn’t even know if Webber was gay, but Webber’s sexual preference didn’t really matter. His boss would never know how he truly felt. Sure, Tristan’s career was very important to him, but the combination of his first attempt at love and the potential of damaging Webber’s reputation was what kept him at arm’s length. He couldn’t and wouldn’t risk everything he held dear for simple matters of the heart.So day after day Tristan told himself that he was content just to be near Webber and quietly take care of him under the cloak of doing his job. He knew he was being deceitful and cowardly, but at his weakest moments, he always thought back to his first and only love before Webber and how horribly that had turned out, and thinking about that made it all too easy to justify his actions. He constantly told himself that even if Webber was madly in love with him, it could never work, and he’d spent most of his waking hours convincing himself of that. Besides, it was much easier to love a man who didn’t have a clue how Tristan felt about him. No chance of getting hurt, no chance of betrayal, and never any chance of ruining his or Webber’s career. On a daily basis, he imagined what the board would say to such a scandal, not to mention how that scandal could hurt Webber, KIC, and its stockholders. He could never allow his feelings to jeopardize his heart or Webber’s future, so he’d kept everything on an even keel and his personal life to himself.He’d never actually told Webber he was gay, although he’d never tried to hide it because there was really nothing to hide. Once, out of the blue, Webber had casually asked him about his social life, and since he had none, it was easy to be honest, thinking it was better for both of them not to elaborate. And after that, Webber had never asked again.He was startled out of his thoughts by Webber’s voice. “Please go home, Tris, you’re making me look really bad,” Webber chuckled. “How long have you worked with me now, ten years?”Tristan laughed, “Just two.”
“Are you sure it’s just two years?”
“Yeah, but it does seem like forever, doesn’t it?”“How many times in the last couple of years have I preached to you about having balance in your life? All work and no play make for a very frustrating and lonely life.”Tristan smiled to himself again because he loved it when Webber called him Tris, and he thought to himself, you have no idea.There was a short silence on the line when Webber spoke up again. “I hope you mean ‘feels like forever’ in a good way?”Tristan laughed. “The very best, Web. I’ve learned so much from you; I can’t begin to tell you. I’m so grateful for this opportunity.”He knew he sounded sappy, but even after all this time, the sound of Webber’s voice and his concern for his happiness, in and out of his job, still sent butterflies right to the pit of his stomach. “So what can I do for you, boss?”“You can come downstairs and have a drink with me.”Tristan furrowed his brow. “Downstairs? I thought you weren’t due back from Australia until tomorrow night?”“Yeah, well, I flew in a day early and was on the way to the office to pick up my car when the jetlag took over and I realized I wasn’t the least bit sleepy. I decided to have a drink before I went home, and when I walked into the Agency, I ran into everyone still downstairs wrapping up happy hour. Hoping you were here having a little fun, I asked around, and one of the guys told me they left you at your desk hours ago, and knowing you, I thought I’d give it a shot and see if you were still there.”“Who made all the arrangements for your early return?” Tristan asked, ignoring the invitation and feeling a little jealous.“It was late when I decided and I didn’t want to bother you at home, so I called the pilot and made the arrangements myself.”Surprised and feeling a little relieved, Tristan said, “Really? It wouldn’t have been a bother, Web, it’s my job.”“Yes, Tris, I know it’s your job, but I can do some things for myself. And besides, I know you would have done it if I asked, but you already work too hard.”Suddenly realizing how that sounded, Tristan did a little backpedaling. “I know you’re not helpless and I know you’re very capable of making arrangements, but hell if you keep that up, why will you need me?”“That’s funny, Tris. Me picking up the phone to change one flight doesn’t mean I can function without you. Trust me, your job is very secure. Hell, you’re getting better and quicker at the mergers and acquisitions than the business development department.”Feeling a little proud and smiling again, Tris said, “Oh thank God, for a moment there I thought I might lose my job and have to start selling my body to make ends meet.”Webber laughed nervously but ignored the joke. There was an awkward silence and suddenly Tristan felt embarrassed and smacked himself in the forehead, a habit he was desperately trying to break, for making such a stupid comment. Webber must have heard the smacking noise.“What was that?” he asked. There was a short silence on the line. “Tristan, I know you pretty well, remember. Did you just smack yourself in the forehead?”“Guilty as charged,” Tristan admitted.
“Why?” Webber asked wryly.
“Because there’s no filter between my brain and my mouth.”Webber chuckled softly but apparently decided to pass on the opportunity to tease Tristan a little more. “So are you going to join me? I have something I want to talk to you about.”Relieved to be over that awkward moment and feeling the least bit curious, Tristan sighed. “Give me about fifteen minutes to finish what I’m doing and clear my desk and I’ll be right down.”“Good boy. I’ll see you in a few, and Tris?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t get lost in your work and make me call you again.” “I promise.”
“See you soon.”Tristan hung up the phone and sat at his desk, starry-eyed. He thought about how he’d gotten to this place in his life. He was in the middle of the corporate ladder, steadily climbing his way up, all the while wanting to climb his way onto his boss. That mental image of him on top of Webber sent the blood rushing right to his groin again, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he went downstairs and joined the man face-to-face.A little over two short years ago, he’d been the chief administrative assistant to the president of Media America, the most successful advertising agency on Madison Avenue in New York City, which just happened to be owned by KIC. He was excellent at his job and had earned the reputation of being smart, efficient, hardworking, and most of all discreet, which was very important for a person in his position in a publicly traded company. Word of his performance had obviously traveled to KIC because he’d been sought out by the human resources department and flown to Atlanta in one of the company’s private jets to meet with Mr. Webber Kincaid personally to interview for the position of his chief administrative assistant.Although he’d been happy in New York, with a close-knit group of friends and a rising career, he’d been twenty-eight years old and single, so he thought if he was going to do something like this, now was the perfect time. He decided to at least explore the opportunity and boarded the tiny corporate jet bound for KIC headquarters in the biggest city in the South. At one point during the flight, the pilot pulled back the curtain separating the cockpit from the cabin and explained in a thick southern drawl that they were crossing the Mason-Dixon Line and would soon be entering Georgia. He couldn’t help remembering the classic movie Gone with the Wind and laughed as he recalled Aunt Pittypat’s famous quote: “Yankees in Georgia? How’d they get in?” He snickered because being born and raised on Long Island, he really would be a Yankee in Georgia.Before his trip to Atlanta, Tristan had googled Webber James Kincaid and learned everything he could about his potential new boss. He started with his bio on Wikipedia and ended with the smallest accounts of his personal life on the various gossip sites. Of Webber Kincaid’s business accomplishments, he learned that he’d graduated with an MBA from Harvard and he and his father had run The Kincaid Corporation, as it was called then, together for a period of time. After his father’s untimely death, he took over the reins and five years later he’d taken the Kincaid Corporation public. It had become Kincaid International Corporation and traded as KIC on the New York Stock Exchange. At the ripe old age of thirty-four, Webber had become the youngest chairman, president and chief executive officer of a company its size in the United States. Tristan also learned that KIC continued to consistently outperform its revenue projections quarter over quarter and the industry analysts thought very highly of Webber and his capabilities, which kept KIC’s stock ratings very high.On the personal side, he learned that Webber was an only child, born on December 26, 1966, to Addison Winston Kincaid and James Michael Kincaid. His mother had died of breast cancer when he was just fourteen years old and after her death, his father had become the one constant in his life. For the next four years, they were virtually inseparable. Webber went to the office with his father every day and had been schooled by a private tutor until he went off to Harvard. The one tidbit of information that stuck with Tristan more than anything was the fact that Webber had never married, and he couldn’t deny that had set his mind to wandering. Could Webber Kincaid be gay? He started looking deeper into Webber’s profiles on the Internet, and the more he read, the more little snippets he found that separately, didn’t amount to a hill of beans, but when all put together, might lead one to believe he could be gay. And of course, no web site had actually outed him, which made him all the more curious.However, during the course of his research, he found many photos of Webber at special events and various fundraisers always with the same beautiful, buxom blonde on his arm. That had set off all kinds of alarms in Tristan’s head, so he investigated more thoroughly. Most of the captions said “Webber Kincaid and his longtime girlfriend Deanna Lynn.” But some of them fell short of calling her his girlfriend and referred to her as his longtime friend and companion. Just for kicks, he’d googled Deanna Lynn and found out that she was a very successful swimsuit model on the West Coast, and in addition to many of the same photos with Kincaid, she had a large portfolio of her own, as well as a life and a career apart from Kincaid’s.Satisfied that he’d found as much information about Deanna as was available, he went back to Kincaid’s photos and studied them carefully. He appeared to be over six feet tall and extremely fit. His hair was dark brown, bordering on black, with silver streaks and silver at his temples, and he wore it fairly long on top, combed straight back, falling into a natural part. His eyes were crystal blue and his face was long and slender. In the photos where he was smiling, he had these incredible dimples that reminded Tristan of Richard Gere or a very young Tony Bennett. He especially liked the photos of Webber with his senior staff ringing the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. There was just something about his smile. He seemed very proud and humbled to be there, and it showed in his every expression. As he stared at the photos, Tristan had found Webber extremely handsome and was instantly attracted to him, but as he’d later found out, nothing could have prepared Tristan for the real thing.On the day of his interview, he remembered walking into Webber’s office and instantly feeling the man’s presence completely encompass him, and all the fears of being a Yankee in Georgia had completely disappeared from his mind. He’d felt this immediate attraction to Webber Kincaid, and he was sure it was written all over his face and evident by the shakiness in his handshake and the rattling of his knees. “Oh man, I can see this being trouble,” he’d remembered saying to himself.After their initial introduction by the human resources representative, they were left alone, and he and Webber had talked about various aspects of the job. Tristan had done his best to impress him with all the right answers, but every time Webber spoke, Tristan had found himself hanging on his every word. And his smile melted Tristan’s heart over and over again. He found himself trying to say witty things just to see that smile again. Thinking back, he realized he was smitten from the very first moment.By the time their interview was over, he had no doubt that Webber Kincaid was sincere, confident, and caring, with no signs of being pompous or egotistical, which in Tristan’s mind was genuine. He was drawn to the man both on a personal and professional level and when they shook hands at the end of the interview, he decided that if he were offered the job, he would take it in a heartbeat.Almost two years later to the day, he turned off his stereo, stepped into his shoes, switched off the lamps, and waved to the janitor as he made his way to the elevator. On the ride down, his heart raced in anticipation of what Webber wanted to talk to him about.

Remembering 9/11

There have been many defining moments in our nation's history, times so potently charged with emotion that they sear themselves into our memories. We forever remember exactly where we were and what we were doing when the events occurred. The attacks of 9/11 are one of them.

I was driving in a car on the way to school (I went back to college later in life) when the first reports came in. A small plan had hit the Trade Center, they said. By the time I drove the half hour to school it was clear it was a much larger plane.

We jimmy-rigged a television in the library and watched in horror as the second plane hit, and then as the towers - incredibly, unbelievably - fell. I remember thinking the footage looked like a scene from a horror movie. The sight of the towers slowly collapsing in on themselves, billowing smoke and debris, people screaming and running...they're branded in my memory even now, eleven years later.

From the ashes came stories of heroism, of police, firefighters, and everyday people risking - and in many cases, losing - their lives in an effort to save others. Their actions gave me hope for our country.

In the days that followed, I remember the sense of community that stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We came together as a country then, flags waving, solidarity evident in everything from our clothing to our music. 

Incredibly, I discovered that we, as a country, do have a soul, even if its usually deeply buried under corporate greed and political dissension.

It was a defining moment in our history, and a telling of our character as a nation.

Thank You by Cardeno C.

Happy Monday, y’all. I’m going to use today’s post as an opportunity to thank the readers out there who support small, independent publishers and the writers who are fortunate enough to have our books published through them.
I’ve heard people say that writers write because we have to, that we do it for ourselves. I can’t deny that, for me, that’s true to some extent. I started writing because I wanted to share uplifting, positive portrayals of relationships. I had characters in my head talking to me and writing down their stories felt natural. I didn’t know about Dreamspinner Press then, or about all the other independent publishers who give a venue to gay romance novels. So I posted my little stories on the internet and hoped that they’d touch someone, somewhere. And that’s when that “writing for myself” thing changed a little.
I started getting e-mails from people who were reading my writing and suddenly my characters weren’t just talking to me, they were talking to Carissa or Tony or Tricia or Bob or Jenn or Sam. And, for me, that’s the moment when I stopped writing just for myself and started writing for other people too.
The people who told me I should consider publishing my books and told me about Dreamspinner Press (thanks Tisha). The people who help without hesitation when I need someone to translate a chat (thanks Barbara, Shirley, and GiveARush). The people who review a timeline I want to post on my website and remind about things I’ve forgotten about my own books (Anita and Amanda, thanks for everything). The people who give me suggestions that make my books better (Katie, I’ll continue working on those female characters). The people who buy my books right when they’re released, even if they don’t usually like paranormals (glad I could convert you, Sam). The people who e-mail me about my stories and their thoughts about them (Marc, Elizabeth, Tricia, Terri, thank you). And the people who take the time to write reviews or tell their friends about the books (Natred, James, Anisa, Kim, you’re the reason new people buy my books, which is what helps the new ones get published, thank you).
Of course, no thank you would be complete without a shout to L.A. Borgaard, who betas all my books and remembers details that my poor brain can’t keep straight. Kelly Shorten, the best website designer ever. And Paul Richmond and Reese Dante, covers sell books - thanks for making mine amazing. 
Those are just some names, some people. There are many others who have encouraged me or who’ve written a review on a website somewhere that I’ve come across and thought about and, hopefully, learned from. I’m grateful to them too. So, that’s it from me for today.
Thank you.
CCwww.cardenoc.com