Cardeno C.'s Blog, page 45
April 18, 2017
Excerpts from BA, Julia, Kiernan and Sean
from Branded by Flames out now from Carina Press
Chapter One
“For fuck’s sake, man. If you set my yard on fire, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Shae pulled his welder’s mask up. “Go away. I’m working.” He didn’t really expect that to get Bryan moving, though, so he turned off the torch. “And if you raked the fucking leaves more than once a year it wouldn’t be a goddamned problem.” He steadied himself on the ladder and shot his neighbor a look. Couldn’t Bryan see he was attaching wings here? It was a delicate fucking process. “Besides, I haven’t set a real fire in, uh…ages.”
Bryan stared up at him, hands on his hips. It would have been a more effective look if Bryan hadn’t needed a haircut so badly. “Uh. Two months ago. Rosebush. And you can shove your opinions about the state of my lawn up your ass.”
Shae briefly contemplated lighting the torch again and setting the overlong hair on fire. It would take only a spark or two. This was the problem with having a best friend as his neighbor. He couldn’t get away with anything. “That wasn’t a real fire—more a singeing. Those don’t count.” Besides, you couldn’t weld without at least a little fire. Not to mention he was working on a dragon. They demanded fire. It was a thing.
“I’m serious, asshole. I will single-handedly beat you to death if you’re not careful. Someone could get hurt.”
Like it wouldn’t hurt, getting beaten to death. “Yeah, yeah. I’m busy. On deadline. Shoo.” On deadline and this dragon was being pushy, demanding his attention, insisting he get it done now. He’d barely slept in the last three days. The need to bring the dragon to life was riding him like an addiction.
“Deadline? I thought you were an artist. You artsy-fartsy types don’t do deadlines.” Now Bryan was stalling. Douche bag.
“Artists have deadlines, unlike shitty mechanic deadbeats.” He pulled down his welder’s mask and laid down another line of weld, making sure to cover Bryan with a shower of sparks. He was busy. Working. Making magic out of metal, for fuck’s sake.
Bryan jumped back. “Hey! Asshole! Don’t make me call the fire department.”
Like he had time for a visit from the fire department. Good thing he didn’t believe Bryan was really here for more than just conversation and possibly hoping Shae would have time for a beer while they watched the game on Shae’s brand-new sixty-inch curved TV. “You’re jealous because you don’t have a big torch like mine.” He was building a twelve-foot-tall dragon out of scrap for a ren faire outside Toronto. It rocked the fucking world, if he did say so himself, with its fierce face, its ginormous wings and about five zillion scales.
“My torch is plenty big, thank you very much.” Bryan flipped him off. “I’ll be back after the game with a couple beers.”
“Sounds good. I got a couple steaks, huh?” He could handle a nice red meat injection. And hopefully he’d be done by nightfall. Even if he wasn’t, he’d worked well into the night last night and wasn’t sure he could safely keep going much past suppertime today.
“Perfect. We can roast them on that giant barbecue you’re building.” Bryan cackled and headed back inside his house.
Shae patted the dragon on its mostly welded head. He needed to finish welding on the ruffles. He’d sand them to different textures later. The important thing was getting everything set in place. “Don’t listen to the asshole. He wouldn’t know art if you walked up and bit him in the ass.”
Shae started chuckling softly, as he imagined his dragon biting Bry’s round ass. They’d fucked a couple times, but man, the chemistry was non-fucking-existent and they worked much better as friends. That didn’t mean he couldn’t admire the view as Bryan sashayed his way back to his place.
He shook himself out of his woolgathering. The last thing he needed was to wind up at the ER for self-inflicted burns. They gave out Darwin awards for shit like that. It was easy enough to sink back into the work, to let the dragon-building take him over.
He added scales after he finished with the ruffles. They were going to shine like crazy when he’d polished them. He turned the music up in his headphones, the driving industrial beat the perfect accompaniment to his need to get the dragon finished. It was funny, though. He didn’t remember sirens in this song. Or flashing lights.
He looked up, lifting his mask, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Jesus Christ there was a fucking fire truck in front of his place and two fully dressed firefighters coming his way.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Hey, guys.” He waved and turned off the torch, biting back the swear words that wanted out. He had a fucking permit and he was goddamned busy. The last thing he needed was yet another interruption.
The taller of the two nodded to him. “Afternoon, sir.”
“Howdy. Let me guess, new neighbors?” Because Shae knew damn well that Bryan wouldn’t call, no matter what he’d said.
“We had a call…” The guy checked out the dragon behind Shae, really looking it over.
Shae watched, scoping the guy out just as closely. There were amazing muscles beneath the heavy gear, and Shae hadn’t seen a face that square and good-looking in quite a while. The guy ran a hand along the dragon’s flank, stroking it like it was real. Shae had to preen at that. He had to.
The firefighter finally turned his attention back to Shae. “We’ll have to see your permit.”
Shae sighed. As soon as he’d seen the fire engine, he’d known this was coming. He hoped they didn’t take any more of his time than they had to, hunky dudes or not. “Just a sec.” He shimmied down the ladder and turned the gas off. “Come on, guys. Into the studio, otherwise known as the garage.”
“You got this, Jake?” the second firefighter asked.
“Yep. You go ahead and talk to the folks who called it in.”
“On it.”
Jake the firefighter turned back to him. The man had green eyes. Like the leaves in spring, just out of the bud. “Lead on.”
“You got it.” Shae pondered storming to the neighbor’s house and educating them about the value of talking to your neighbor before jumping to conclusions, but really, that would make it longer before he could get back to work, and even with the distraction of the hot body in front of him, his fingers itched to be working. “You must be new, too.”
“Transferred in from Guelph. I take it this is a regular thing?” Jake looked around, clearly curious, interested.
“Used to be. Hasn’t been in a long time, though. Five years, give or take?” He’d finally trained everyone in the neighborhood not to panic over a little welding. Or else they’d gotten tired of fruitlessly calling him in.
“Yeah? Why’d you give it up?” Jake lounged against a counter, filling the space. Staring at him, the look almost a physical touch.
“Give what up?” It had been the neighbors who got used to the smoke, the flame, the smell of burning, who’d come to learn he had a permit and wasn’t doing anything illegal.
“Making art. You said it used to be a regular…” Jake laughed, the sound sliding along Shae’s spine. “I got the wrong end of the stick, didn’t I? You meant we haven’t had to come out here in that time.”
“Ah. Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.” He bent over to dig through his file cabinet, searching for the permit.
Jake made a weird noise, something between a cough and a groan.
“You okay, man?” He found it and pulled the folder out, offering it over.
Okay, firemen were hot, no matter where they were.
“Yeah. Just a tickle in my throat.” Jake stepped in closer than was necessary to take the permit from him, seeming to tower over him. And looking at him instead of the permit. At him. This hot, young firefighter. Fuck him raw. And also yum.
Jake finally examined Shae’s permit. “Looks good, man.” Jake took another half step closer and reached past him to put the permit on his workbench. Looking right at him, Jake smiled. “Sorry we bothered you.”
Shae had to swallow twice before he could reply. “No worries. Really. I needed to take a break anyway.” He took a good look, because damn. Stacked to the ceiling, broad shouldered and fine—jack-off material for miles. Of course he would totally tap that. Unless he was reading the signs wrong, all he had to do was say something. And if he was wrong? At least the guy was almost done and his embarrassment would last only a short while.
“I’ve got to get back to the truck.” Jake straightened, looking around. “I’d love to come back and check out more of your art after shift, though. The piece out on the lawn is incredible.”
That’s right. This hot young stud was so into his artwork that Jake wanted to come back and see more. He walked a little taller, knowing that Jake was looking for a reason to sniff around.
“Sure, man. I’m here all night.” Wait, that sounded pervy as hell, didn’t it?
Jake smiled, and the look went straight to Shae’s balls, like they needed another reason to tighten up and ache. “I’ll be back.”
“That’s what they all say.” Oh yeah. Fantasies for days. With him and Jake in the starring roles. Who would have thought it?
“You think I won’t be?” Jake grinned, but the look in his eyes was intense. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Sure you do. All guys do.” Shae knew damn well people said shit that wasn’t true all the time. To you and about you.
Jake straightened and flexed for him, and even in the full gear, that was a fucking sexy thing. “You’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys.”
“Have I now?” He chuckled softly and caught himself licking his lips, indulging in a little daydream of sucking a well-hung cock, one of those hands in his hair. It had been too long since anyone had been able to handle him that he’d given up thinking anybody would again. In the end, he could always trust himself to get the job done.
“If I’m the first guy you know who tells the truth? Then yeah, you have.” Jake looked him up and down. “We can talk more about that later this evening when I come back.”
So Jake really was going to come over? He’d believe it when it happened. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t encourage Jake, tilt the scales in his favor. “Works for me, man. I’ll be the one with the beer in the backyard.” And if everything Jake said made him want to roll over onto his back and pant like a dog, well, that could be his little secret.
“I like mine cold. The beer that is—I take my men hot.” Jake gave him another look, before he turned and sauntered out.
Shae leaned over, watching that hot ass go the entire length of the house and then the walkway. “Mmm-mmm. Tasty goodness.”
Not that this guy was going to tap him. Not on the first night and maybe not ever. He needed a certain kind of man with a lot of patience and a shitload of control to get him off. Someone who wasn’t a younger Dom. He’d done younger Dom—been there, done that and decided not to pay for the T-shirt. Still, he could pretend he was getting laid by Mr. Hot-As-Fuck-Firefighter, right?
The flashing lights turned off, and the truck slowly trundled down the street, taking the burning-hot firefighter with it.
Focus for work entirely broken, Shae went to get his equipment stored and cleaned up. He didn’t know if Mr. Hottie would be back, but if Jake showed, Shae wanted to be ready.
From Kiernan Kelly
From the Eye of Ra from Harmony Ink
Eye of Ra by Dakota Chase
Releasing May 16th, 2017
https://www.harmonyinkpress.com/books...
Blurb: Both Aston and Grant have a talent for finding trouble—it’s what landed them at the Stanton School for Boys—but this time, their mischief might send them to a completely different world.
When they accidentally destroy their teacher’s priceless archeological artifacts, he demands they replace them. And since the teacher in question is Merlin, refusing isn’t an option for the two boys. Thanks to Merlin’s magic, they’re about to become time travelers.
The first piece on their list is the Eye of Ra, a mystical amulet belonging to the young King Tut. Ancient Egypt is nothing like Aston and Grant expected with its war, disease, and lack of modern technology. To survive, they’ll have to befriend King Tut and learn to trust him—and each other. In a primitive world where death and danger wait around every corner, one thing is clear: revisiting history could cost someone their life.
Excerpt:
“Mr. Walsh and Mr. Vaughn? Kindly remain after class. I need to speak with you both.”
My stomach dropped into my sneakers as my fragile new hope died a swift but painful death. I was so screwed. He knew it was us all along and had just been playing with our heads, lulling us into a false sense of security. I was going to spend the next ten to twenty years of my life in the penitentiary with a cellmate named Bubba. I just knew it.
Vaughn and I exchanged a troubled glance and remained in our seats as the rest of the class filed out of the room. A few tossed us looks of sympathy as they left, although I had to wonder if they knew the seriousness of our troubles. They probably just thought we hadn’t done our homework or something. I could only wish it was something that trivial.
When the last student had gone, Ambrosius stood up and walked to the door, closing and locking it.
Locking it? My fear of being arrested was suddenly displaced by a new terror. What if Ambrosius was crazy and had decided killing us would be justified since we’d destroyed his office and his collection? After all, he did keep an office bursting to the seams full of old junk. Or, used to, that is. How much was all that crap we burned up worth, anyway? Thousands? Millions? People had been murdered for a lot less than that.
No, I told myself firmly, don’t be stupid. He’s a teacher, not a serial killer. He’s not going to pull a knife on you or anything.
I hoped.
He walked toward us, the look on his face unreadable, but I was happy to see that he kept both of his hands in plain sight and, unless he planned on beating my head in with the blackboard eraser, there were no weapons anywhere that I could see.
“Gentlemen, as I’m sure you’re well aware, we have a problem to discuss. I’ve pondered long and hard over it for the past couple of days, and I’ve come to a decision. Now, first things first… we all know who is responsible for the fire in my office, don’t we?”
I instantly opened my mouth to deny my involvement, but Ambrosius held up his hand and the lie died on my tongue.
“Please, do not insult my intelligence by trying to convince me of your innocence. We, all three of us, know the truth. The problem we need to discuss is what I should do about it.” His steely blue eyes looked from me to Vaughn and back again. “I could inform Principal Meek and the police that I sent you to my office just before the fire broke out. Such a course of action would no doubt result in your arrest, trial, and subsequent incarceration.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, sure that my worst nightmare was coming true.
“Fortunately for you, I am aware that the fire was an accident. You were arguing, and your tempers got the best of you. That you did not purposely set the fire is the only reason I have not yet gone to the police.”
“H-how did you know?” Vaughn asked, and I could’ve belted him a good one right there. He’d just admitted that, not only was Ambrosius right, that we’d been there, but that we’d been fighting and were the cause of the fire!
“I know many things, young man,” Ambrosius answered, waving the question away. “How I come about my information is none of your concern.” He perched on the edge of the desk in front of us, and folded his hands. Those hands looked ancient; his skin was as thin as tracing paper, and I could see the squiggles of blue veins just beneath the surface. “I know you didn’t mean to set the fire. Had you come to me straightaway, we would not be having this conversation. Accidents can and do happen, but you took the coward’s way out, hoping no one would find out. You have both been in trouble with the law before, several times, from what I understand. You must learn that there is a price we must pay for our actions.”
“I’m really sorry, Professor,” I said. I saw Vaughn nodding his head, and added, “We both are.”
“Being sorry will not replace the artifacts I have lost, nor erase the possibility that someone may have been injured or killed in that fire. That said, since I do believe the damage was the result of an accident, I have decided to give you a choice.”
“A choice?” I asked, exchanging a confused look with Vaughn. He didn’t know where this was headed any more than I did.
“Yes. Accident or no, I must demand either restitution or justice. You can either agree to procure items I lost in the fire, or you can go to jail and serve the sentence for whatever crime the authorities find you guilty of perpetrating.”
Procure the items? I couldn’t afford to buy a bar of soap, never mind any of the uber-expensive things Ambrosius had lost in the fire. Maybe Vaughn’s family had enough cash on hand, but mine didn’t. Heck, my dad was so fed up with me that even if he did have the funds, I doubted he would have paid up.
“I don’t have any money,” I confessed. “My family doesn’t either. I guess I could get an after-school job.” I tried to sound hopeful but failed. If Ambrosius’s collection was worth half of what I suspected, I’d never be able to earn enough to pay him back, not in one lifetime.
“Do you have any idea of the cost of the artifacts destroyed by the fire? They were irreplaceable. Priceless,” Ambrosius said, scowling at me.
“But you just said one of our choices was to replace them!”
“No, I certainly did not. You weren’t listening, Mr. Walsh, which I suspect is business as usual for you. What I said was that you could procure them. There’s a distinct difference.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“Me, either,” Vaughn put in. He’d been quiet up until then, and I wondered why. Surely Mr. Four-Names-And-A-Rolex’s dad would be able to buy him out of this mess.
“It’s quite simple, really. You will both go back in time to find and procure some of the items I’ve lost. Not all, since it would take many lifetimes to replace everything I lost, but some. Failure to do so will result in a telephone call to the police. The choice is yours, gentlemen.”
“You’re crazy!” I sputtered. “Back in time… what kind of a joke is this?”
“Oh, this is no joke, I assure you. Perhaps I should formally introduce myself. It might make things a bit more clear. You already know me by my surname, Ambrosius,” he said, as a wicked little smile tilted his lips. “My first name is Merlin.”
From Julia Talbot
From Packmate for Hire, releasing today at Amazon, Nook and Evil Plot Bunny! (buy link coming today!)
The bell over the door jangled, and Shon stiffened when three burly guys walked in. They were all gorgeous, one tall, dark and broody, one blond and buff, and one… Uhn. God almighty, one had auburn hair and gray eyes and the best smile.
He gave up on thinking they might be after him when one cuffed another on the shoulder and a scuffle broke out that included noogies and a nuclear wedgie.
That was no group of assassins or bounty hunters.
“You boys!” The blonde lady returned, laughing at their antics. “Rand, you’re acting like a five-year-old. And who is this handsome boy?”
The auburn haired man of amazingtude walked over to her and held out a hand. “Brendan Gray. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Leona. I’m Mairi’s second in command.”
“Hi, Leona.” The buff blond guy waved.
“Hi, Tate! You’re also acting like a kid.”
“The Alpha brings it out in me.”
Alpha. Oh, fuck his ass raw. Seriously? He stopped in Nowhere, Colorado and he ran into Pack? What the hell?
“I smell cinnamon rolls,” said tall, dark, and apparently Rand.
“You do. You boys want one?”
“And coffee,” Tate said.
“Addicts, all of you.” Leona laughed and bustled about, collecting coffee cups and plates as the guys settled in a booth, the Tate and Rand guys on one side, sitting very, very close. As in no space between them, hands under the table close.
Huh.
He really only had eyes for the one called Brendan, who looked just his type. Tall, manly, maybe a little lumberjack-sexual with his shaggy hair and three-day beard.
Yeah. He could get up on that and ride.
That was totally his problem, wasn’t it? He found something to get him in trouble wherever he went.
He didn’t need to be looking longingly at someone who was friends with an alpha. That was always, always a bad idea. Definitely trouble with a capital T.
Shon sipped his tea again, letting it calm him.
“So, what’s new, Leona?” Rand asked when she came back with the coffee.
Shon stiffened when she glanced his way, then put his head down in an obvious attempt to keep her mouth shut.
“Oh, well, not much. Mairi burned her hand on the bacon, and Winslow Isley slipped on and fell in his hot tub. He’s sore.”
“I’ll check on him today,” Rand said, sounding very grave all of a sudden, as if he took his job very seriously.
The Tate guy rose from the booth. “Mairi in the back?”
“She is.”
Tate nodded and walked off. The dynamics here were fascinating.
Leona stood and chatted for several minutes with the Alpha and his friend. Shon eavesdropped shamelessly until someone plopped a plate down in front of him which held a sandwich and fries.
“Mairi said your food was ready, so I saved Leona a trip.” The Tate guy stood just at the end of his booth, smiling down at him. “I’m Tate.”
“Uh. Shon. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. You’re new.”
Small towns. People just seemed to naturally expect to know everyone’s business just because they asked. Shon found that could be inconvenient when you had someone looking for you.
“I am,” Shon agreed as pleasantly as he could. He didn’t elaborate more, though.
“I’m not,” Tate said, his grin turning into a laugh. “Born and raised here, so I can be bored and curious. Sorry.”
“No worries.” He let a smile stretch out on his face. “I’m a writer. Thrillers. I’m just looking to hide out with my laptop.”
“Leona has a sister who rents cabins. Take the one the farthest from the road. It gets the best satellite wi-fi and you don’t hear the trucks and their loud brakes.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” Tate wandered off, thank God, and he was able to relax a bit.
The scent of wolf was so strong, it was all he could do not to grow whiskers and a tail.
He dug into his sandwich, the flavors all blending so well. The fries were hot and crispy outside, pillowy inside. The bacon on the club was thick and peppery and he moaned a little.
The best part, oddly enough, was the toast. Buttery and crisp, he thought the unseen Mairi must have griddled it just after she toasted it to soak up some of the amazing grill flavor.
Uhn. Okay, this was definitely all he would need in the way of a restaurant.
“More tea, honey? “Leona asked, stopping by to table touch after she left the assemblage of hotties.
“Please.” She was wolf, too. It was obvious now the alpha was here. Shon rolled his eyes at himself once she left. He sure could pick ‘em
From BA Tortuga
From Best New Artist, on presale at Dreamspinner Press
Kasey Tuffman wiped the sweat off his forehead with one of those ridiculous, pristine white towels they gave you at awards shows when you stepped offstage. Used to be he had a hat to soak up the sweat, but this damned haircut his new stylist had given him wouldn’t work with the old summer straw he preferred.
“Good job, Tuff,” said one of the lackeys from the label, a guy with a three-hundred-dollar pair of shoes, and jeans that came from Italy, for fuck’s sake.
“Thanks.” He was just glad it was over. He’d gone out there and sung his just-released sellout song as the last of the nominees for Best New Artist.
Best New fucking Artist. He might have been in Nashville less than two years, but Kasey “Tuff” Tuffman had been playing music in Texas since he was fourteen. Twenty freaking years ago.
His night was almost over. Alan Kingman was walking out on stage, boots clicking away, to announce the winner of the award Tuff was up for. The man would announce that Chase Ryan had won, and Tuff would make a suitably shocked face before walking offstage and out the back to his waiting limo.
Then he’d go to the house he’d been renting, grab a couple of beers, and get in the pool and soak.
He shifted from foot to foot, trying to look calm but hopeful like his coach had told him to. A media coach. Christ. Every little thing was arranged for you when you had a number one single and album.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” Alan said into the microphone. “Lemme get out my reading glasses so I can see that TV they want me to read.”
All Tuff had to do was push through this shit, and then he could breathe for a few days, focus on making a new album over the winter, get off the road, out of the bus, into the studio.
He wanted to go home for a week or two. See his folks and his sisters. Tuff missed Texas like an amputated limb.
“Anyway, whether you’re an eighteen-year-old with a voice like warm honey or a thirtysomething Texan who’s in touch with a more traditional sound, getting your first number one hit is something to celebrate.”
Shit. That had to be him. In touch with a traditional sound? Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo. That made him sound like a frickin’ elder statesman.
“Like they say in that old Alabama song about the fiddle,” Alan went on, “If you’re gonna play in Texas….” Alan squinted at the TV, then shook his head. “Whatever that says, screw it. And the winner is….” He ripped open the envelope, and the most comical look of shock crossed Alan’s face. “Kasey Tuffman!”
“What?” The word popped out of his mouth, the surprise immediate and real. Tuff’s heart fell right into his gut.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The label guy gave him a little push. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
It was supposed to be Chase Ryan. Not him.
Not fucking him.
Someone gave him a shove, so Tuff stumbled out on the stage, his new boots too stiff, and a titter passed through the crowd.
Goddamn it. His label rep had told him the deal. This was just a tribute to someone who’d been around as long as him and had just had his first national number one. No stress. Perform and leave. He wasn’t supposed to win anything or have to make a speech and act grateful for a crumb.
Especially not this. Best New fucking Artist, for chrissake. Like he was some wet-behind-the-ears newbie with a shiny guitar or a boy band bro-country kid the studio had plucked from a vocal program at the University of Tennessee.
Alan stepped away from the microphone to hand him the envelope, blocking the little gal who held the huge paperweight he was getting for selling his Red Dirt soul out to Nashville.
“Congratulations, Tuff. Twenty years of touring and sweating for pennies and it only took a new haircut to get you a fancy award.”
He shot Alan a glare. They’d known each other for years, and he was humiliated this had to happen in front of someone he so admired. “You ain’t funny, old man.”
Alan shook his head. “Not meant to be. I let them kill the music, son. Don’t let them do it to you.”
“Never gonna happen.” Except that wasn’t true, was it? Not really. He already felt like a sellout.
The haircut, the sparkly ass skinny jeans, the four-hundred-dollars Lucchese boots—all of that was the trappings of the label. Jesus, he’d bet this award was too. They’d bought him another few weeks at the top of the fucking chart.
Rage spurted through his veins right along with the blood pounding in his temples as a headache kicked in.
He took the award from the blonde with the fake boobs and capped teeth. Wasn’t her fault, so he gave her a strained smile. Then Tuff stepped up to the microphone, his speech crystalizing in his mind in those few seconds.
“Good evenin’, ladies and gentlemen.” Tuff took a deep breath. “I got to say, I never thought any of y’all would ever vote for me. I imagine I’m not the best of anything, and I figure while I am an artist, I sure ain’t new.” He waited for the camera boom to swing around, the hard focus right on him. Then he smiled, a real, Texas-sized smile, holding up the award. “So what do I got to say about this? How about I start with y’all can kiss my….”
http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com
Julia’s is http://www.juliatalbot.com
BA’s is http://www.batortuga.com
Kiernan's is www.KiernanKelly.com
Facebook:
Sean -- https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelW...
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April 17, 2017
Cover of To Touch You by Cardeno C.
I absolutely love it! The release date is May 4th and this is the blurb:
“His name is Salvatore Rossi. He’s a vampire. And he’s my true mate.”
By not relying on anyone except himself, Salvatore Rossi escaped a dead-end existence and reached the height of corporate success. But just when he has everything he always wanted, fate throws Salvatore a challenge he can’t solve alone and a young wolf shifter comes to his rescue.
Since childhood, Yoram Smith’s family was certain he would grow to become Alpha and save their beloved pack from its slow demise. When the time comes for a new leader, Yoram is forced to juggle his duty to care for a splintering pack with his duty to care for an absent mate, and his own strength suffers.
Being turned into a vampire didn’t alter Salvatore’s life philosophy: if you don’t rely on anyone, nobody can let you down. But when the boy who saved his life becomes a man who needs his help, the icy vampire must find his humanity.
Last but not least, keep an eye on my Twitter and FB between now and that release date. I'm going a big promo push for the Mates books and that'll include giveaways on some awesome blogs.
Have a terrific week.
CC
www.cardenoc.com
April 16, 2017
Setting the Mood by Christa Tomlinson
Writing is awesome. It’s also incredibly difficult. It requires you to pull what only exists in your head out and on to the keyboard or page. There are lots of things that help make this process a little easier. A good outline is beneficial. As is a giant mug of coffee. But for me, the most important thing to help me get in the write (get it?) head space is music. But not just any music. I have to have songs that match the mood of the scene I’m writing. For example, when I was writing Bad Boys Need Love Too, I listened to a lot of Joan Jett, Peaches and Garbage. Bad Boyfriend by Garbage was actually the inspiration for that story. Those songs all had a raw, gritty feel to them which perfectly matched the roughness of bad boy Gage as he corrupted I mean errr… persuaded Joseph into letting his hair down. The playlist is HERE if you’d like to check it out.
I also have a list of five go to songs for setting the mood. I pull these out when I need a song that’s proven to get me where I need to be. Or, when I’m too lazy to look for new musical inspiration.
1) Smexy Sexy times: Stroker Ace by Loveage2) Rough sexy times: Tainted Love by Marilyn Manson3) Anger: Shitlist by L74) Heartache: The Scientist covered by Willie Nelson5) Happy Fun Times: Twerk by Three 6 Mafia
My playlist for An Officer’s Submission was angsty and sexy. Two of my favorite songs for that playlist are from movie soundtracks. I wrote the Shibari scene to Silk Road from Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Eptesicus from Batman Begins. I loved the way both songs are soft and floaty and airy. They really helped put my head where I could “see” Logan concentrating on binding his submissive and Clay sinking into it until he was rope drunk. Le sigh…
Anyhoo, I’m always on the lookout for new music. Want to help me out with that? Comment below with a song to fit one of my writing mood categories: Smexy times, Rough Sexy Times, Anger, Heartache and Happy Fun Times. One comment/entry per person please. I will randomly select two entrants to win an An Officer’s Submission swag pack. Winners will be chosen next Sunday. Be sure to leave your email or social media contact info in the comments OR turn on the Notify me of replies option so you'll get a notification if you are a winner. You’ll win a signed copy of the book, as well as a book mark and dog tag featuring AOS’s cover art. You know you want it. So hit me with your song recs!
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Christa
Visit my website: www.ChristaTomlinson.com
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Book IV of the Cuffs, Collars and Love series is now available.Amazon- Amazon UK
April 15, 2017
Weirdness In the World by S.C. Wynne
My last post here was about the new MM Romantic Mystery series I'm starting. The first book deals
with a reality TV show, so maybe that's why I noticed this recent news report about a Reality TV show. Some contestants were hired to live in a remote place in Scotland for a year. But after four episodes, the network canceled the show and didn't bother to mention that fact to the people living in the wild.These poor people didn't even know Brexit had happened or that Trump was now president in the U.S. They came back to civilization after a year to find out they'd lived under those rough conditions for a show that no longer existed. lol
Thankfully there's been such an uproar the network said it would air the remaining episodes sometime this year. But it makes me wonder if the only reason they agreed to do that was because the news got out. Or maybe I'm just jaded. I can't even imagine going thorough what those people must have gone through only to find out you were doing it for no reason.
What would you do if that happened to you? I know I'd be furious and I'd want compensation for giving up and entire year of my life! I'm curious to see what happens next with this.
S.C.www,sc-wynne.com
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April 12, 2017
Here we go again by Felice Stevens
DON'T. JUST DON'T.
You aren't being literary or expanding people's interests. We who work in the romance field, who read the books and write the stories know why. We know romance is a billion dollar industry. And that's very enticing. You might think, "Hey. I'd like a piece of that. Why should those people get all that money?" So you want to be different. You figure you'll upset the applecart of HEA and break the main characters up. Maybe have them cheat, or even have one of them die, leaving the remaining main character miserable and alone.
DUDE. NO.
If the main characters don't end up together and in love, it's not a romance. Plain and simple. It isn't enough to say you did it because romance needs to change it up; that you don't like when the couple ends up together or that HEA is merely a trope and why read a story if you know how it ends.
Look. Happily Ever After isn't a trope. It's why we read romance. When we read a mystery, we know it's going to be solved at the end. It's the journey we read for; to see how the detective put the clues together and came up with the murderer.
Same with romance. We read romance for the journey of the main characters in love; to share in their pain and growth as the story unfolds. We feel for their struggles and cheer when they reach and conquer the height of the mountain. We want them to face almost insurmountable hurdles only to somehow, when all seems lost, figure it out and find love. We want a bit of escape from reality. None of the aforementioned reasons makes romance less of a genre than mystery or horror or fantasy.
Romance has always suffered the sneers and behind the hand snickers from those who think they are smarter, and too intelligent to read the "mommy porn." Most likely it's because it is an industry dominated by women, and therefore by it's nature, rendered second-class.
Except we aren't. Romance readers and writers are smart, savvy and aware. We are at the forefront of political activism and are quicker to see industry trends.
So when people denigrate romance and role their eyes, I don't argue with them. I let them speak, knowing that they don't know what the hell they're talking about. It's all good.
Just stay in your own genre, and leave the loving to us. Because there's nothing wrong with falling in love, and being happy.
Ask Andrew - The Thirty Year Question!
Are you where you thought you'd be 30 years ago or a totally different place? Would you say it's better or just different?
Kendra
Dear Kendra
Thirty years ago I was just starting out, my first year out of college and the world was so very different then than it is now. There was no internet, computers and their influence in our lives was in its infancy, At the time I envisioned my career on a completely different path than the one it took. Heck I couldn't have ever seen or understood the path it ended up on thirty years ago. And I had no clue that I'd become a writer. None at all.
As for other areas of my life, that very interesting. It would be seven years before I'd meet Dominic and society was a very different place with very different ideas. In some ways things turned out much better than I anticipated. But mostly its just different!!!! Lots of different. Buckets full of different. I never would have anticipated becoming an author or meeting all the amazing people who have come into my life because of that. Readers, fellow authors, publishers... all friends and extremely special.
So I'll take different and revel in it. I have wonderful people in my life that I never could have foreseen and I'm doing something that really brings me joy!!! Tons of joy! So I guess I love different. Heck bring it on.
Hugs and LoveAndrew
Ask Andrew is your chance to ask questions of a gay romance author. The questions can be about the writing process in general, writing sex scenes, gay men, sex, characters in romance, characters having sex... okay you probably get the picture. I promise to answer your questions as frankly and with as much humor as I possibly can.So if you have a question, please send it to andrewgreybooks@comcast.net. This is different from my usual email so your questions don't get lost. I will answer one question a week.
Please remember this is meant to be all in fun. (I was going to say good, clean fun, but who wants that.) So send me your questions and let's see what mischief we can get into.
Visit Andrew on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andrewgreybooks and you can join Andrew's fan group All The Way With Andrew Grey.
Follow him on Twitter: @andrewgreybooks
April 11, 2017
Promo Post with Ba, Julia, Kiernan and Sean
From BA Tortuga
Trey’s waited long enough to take what he needs.Trey Jamison leads an elite mercenary team that specializes in snatch and grabs. Things have been going well – well enough that he’s letting himself notice Kai Tanaka, fellow Texan and team long-range sniper.
Kai hasn’t made any secret of his attraction to Trey. But the boss is the boss, and it isn’t until the team gets compromised and Kai is captured during a job that Trey lets himself admit the feelings he has for his captured teammate.
This is a previously published title. The publisher has changed.
Setting his Sights is available at Evil Plot Bunny.
From Julia Talbot, writing as Minerva Howe
[image error] When Simon realizes his dearest friend Matthias is in danger from his reckless lifestyle, he decides to provide Matthias with an outlet for his self-destructive needs. While Simon would be more than willing to take on the task himself, Matthias has always fought their attraction to one another.
As Georgian London’s Mistress of Discipline, Felice Grey is happy to take on Matthias for one night as a favor to Simon—even break her own rules to let Simon watch. She never expects to feel drawn to both men, especially since Simon’s dominant nature makes it unlikely he’ll bend to her will.
Simon barely makes it through their play, and he knows it’s time to withdraw to his country estate in hopes that his two favorite people will find each other. Felice and Matthias must make a decision. Will they let happiness fall by the wayside, or pursue it and damn the risk?
Note: This is a previously published title. The publisher has changed.
The Mistress and Her men is available at Evil Plot Bunny.
From Kiernan Kelly
Jake Goodall is a Texas bull rider who’s used to keeping his preference for men under wraps. Brent Miller is as wealthy New York businessman who has never had to hide who he is from anyone. When Brent’s car breaks down in Jake’s hometown, the two of them begin a romance that might be hazardous to their health, in more ways than one. Danger lurks in the small minds of folks who’d rather not see Jake and Brent together, and sooner or later, fists are going to fly.From the prairies of Texas to the bright lights of New York and back again, from western rodeos to big city gay bars to a courtroom in Dallas, Jake and Brent try to work through all their problems despite the hostilities all around them. Jake knows he’s got it bad when he stays with Brent through thick and thin, but can the bull rider from the Lone Star State and the businessman from New York buck the odds to stay together?
You can pick Riding Heartbreak Road at Evil Plot Bunny.
From Sean Michael
Cardinal shifter Red works his tailfeathers off as a waiter at The Woods. He doesn’t mind working hard at the diner, but some of the customers have mean streaks and he’s an easy target. When wolf shifter Growler comes in one day for his lunch, he’s immediately taken by Red and even defends him from the porcine bullies giving Red a hard time.Red’s boss Reisha warns him about getting together with Growler. The guy is a wolf and Red’s kind are nothing but a light snack to wolves. Still, Red likes to make up his own mind, and sometimes a little danger is fun to flirt with, especially if it gets him what he needs, so when Growler offers to give him a ride on his motorcycle, Red is quick to accept.
Predator and prey usually make uneasy bedfellows, but that doesn’t seem to be the case for Red and Growler. Will they be able to fly in the face of convention and find the perfect nest together?
You can find Little Red Riding Hook at Evil Plot Bunny.
If you have any questions you'd like us to answer, or a theme for us to riff off of, please let us know!
Website:BA -- http://www.batortuga.com
Julia -- http://www.juliatalbot.com
Kiernan -- www.KiernanKelly.com
Sean -- http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com
Facebook:
BA -- https://www.facebook.com/batortuga
Julia -- https://www.facebook.com/juliatalbotauthor
Kiernan -- https://www.facebook.com/kiernan.kelly
Sean -- https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelWrites
Sean
smut fixes everything
April 8, 2017
Sharing an excerpt from a WIP by S.C. Wynne
I've just started a new romantic suspense MM series and I thought I'd share a tiny snippet with you. The first book deals with a Hollywood detective who's called to the set of a reality show where a man has been killed by a tiger. The series will have three books to begin with, all featuring different Hollywood Detectives and another MC in each who's also a part of the Hollywood scene.
Here's an excerpt from the first book Reality Bites:
My phone always rang when I was juggling a cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. It was like the universe waited for me the leave the damn coffeehouse before pressing send. I clamped my teeth on the paper bag that held my food and clumsily pulled my cell from my pocket.“Decker here,” I growled.“We’ve got a weird one for you, detective.” Lieutenant Bartlett sounded distracted.As I opened the car door, the plastic lid on my coffee popped off and java spilled down the front of my white shirt. “Shit.” I hissed as the hot liquid burned my chest.“Did I get you at a bad time?”“Not at all. I was just taking a bath in my coffee.” I set the half full cup in the holder and tossed the bag onto the passenger seat. I slid behind the wheel and wiped at the big brown stain on my shirt to no avail.“Anyway… you know that new reality show Don’t Die?”“No.” I didn’t watch a lot of TV, reality or otherwise.“Seriously? It’s a huge hit.”“Did you call to rag on me for not watching enough reality TV?” I started the car. “Where do I need to be?”“Zecker Studios down in North Hollywood. One of the contestants on Don’t Die got eaten by a Tiger.”I winced. “What the hell?”“I know.”“Shouldn’t you call Animal Control instead of me?” I pulled onto the street and headed in the direction of the studio. “What am I supposed to do, arrest the tiger?”“Very funny.”“I’m serious. Why am I going there?”“Because Max Thornton is in charge of the show and he’s a big deal right now.” There were muffled voices in the background. “Look, I have to go. Treat the guy nice.”“Wait. Do not hang up until you tell me why a man being killed by a tiger is a murder investigation,” I grumbled.“Thornton seems to think there’s been foul play.”I tried not to laugh. “Did you seriously just use the term ‘foul play’?”“Decker, get your ass over there and talk to the guy. That’s an order.”“You’ve got it, boss.” I rolled my eyes and hung up. Thankfully it was a Saturday, so the traffic wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I managed to stuff down most of my cinnamon raisin bagel, minus the cream cheese, by the time I reached the front gate at Zecker Studios. I flashed my credentials, and the guard waved me in. There were already several black and whites and a forensic team at the scene. I gulped the last of my coffee and headed into the big building.The first thing that struck me as I entered the hangar was the strong smell of urine and the five hundred pound tiger pacing back and forth in a long steel enclosure. Outside the cage was a body covered with a black tarp. The animal seemed agitated as it chuffed and growled with its giant head hung low.“He’s a magnificent beast isn’t he?” A woman with a large felt hat approached. “Look at him; it’s like he knows he’s in trouble.”I showed her my badge. “I’m Homicide Detective Cabot Decker.” I studied her as I tucked my ID away. Her hat was crooked, and she had strands of auburn hair hanging messily around her shoulders. “Mind if I ask you who you are?”She grimaced. “Sorry. Lucinda Pinwheel.” She held out her hand. “I’m Benji’s handler.” Up close the deep lines around her eyes and forehead were obvious. She’d looked much younger from a distance with her long hair and slender build. “Benji wouldn’t hurt a fly usually.”I glanced at the covered corpse. “Maybe he was having a bad day.” I moved to the body and lifted the tarp slowly. I held my gag reflex in check as I studied the bloody torn mess in front of me. There were obvious teeth marks around the throat and the head was almost severed from the neck. The smell of blood made my stomach roll, but I kept examining the corpse looking for anything that might be inconsistent with an animal attack.“Hey, Decker.” Officer Eugene approached. “This is some grisly shit.” He looked a little queasy as he spoke.“Yeah.” I dropped the tarp back over the body and pulled out my note pad and pen. “What can you tell me?”He put his hands on his hips. “That some people will do anything for money?” He shook his head. “How desperate would a man have to be to spend the night in a cage with a wild animal? Jesus.”“I didn’t mean I needed you to get philosophical. What do you know about what happened here?”“It’s pretty cut and dried. The guy was in the cage and the tiger went after him.”“Was he alone?”“You mean other than the tiger?”I sighed. “I mean were there any witnesses?”Officer Eugene pursed his lips. “He was alone when it happened. There’s supposed to always be a camera man with the contestants. But apparently the guy assigned to our victim had severe intestinal issues and was on the toilet when the attack occurred.”“I’ll need to talk to the camera man ASAP.”“He’s at the hospital.”I frowned. “Why?”“Dehydration and hysteria. He found the body.”“Got it.”Lucinda shifted uneasily. “I still can’t believe this has happened. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve worked with Benji’s for ten years and we’ve never once had an incident. He’s never even looked weird at a human before.”“Something triggered him.” I noticed a guy in an expensive suit standing a few feet away. He had his phone glued to his ear, and he emanated an air of confidence that told me he might be in charge. He was tall with broad shoulders and jet black hair, and as he hung up, he lifted his chin and strode toward me, holding out his hand.“I’m Max Thornton.” His grip was firm and his palms felt smooth against my calloused hands. His cologne was spicy, masculine and probably way out of my budget.“Detective Decker.” The intensity of his gray stare was unsettling. I didn’t get unsettled easily, but he radiated power and confidence like a convection oven. When his gaze dropped to the dark stain on my shirt heat filled my cheeks. “I had a run in with a cup of coffee.”“Looks like the beverage won.” His voice was deep and his gaze enigmatic.Something about him made me feel like Oliver Twist in front of the head master begging for more pudding. “I’m not really familiar with the concept of your show. Could you maybe fill me in? Why was a man inside the cage with a tiger to begin with?”He exhaled roughly. “Dale was one of ten contestants. Each week one of them is randomly assigned an animal and then they either spend the night in the cage or they decline and leave the show.” He flicked his gaze to the corpse. “Dale didn’t decline.”“Why would he do something so crazy?” I scratched my head.“Money. If they spend the whole night, they get lots of money.”“Wow. I think I’d rather be poor and alive.”Max smirked. “Looks like things are working out for you then, detective.” Smart ass I narrowed my gaze. “So why’d the animal attack him?”“Somebody must have provoked Benji.” Lucinda spoke up brusquely.Max turned to her with a grim look. “I hope you’re not suggesting me or any of my employees did that sort of thing?”She sniffed. “All I know is ratings are everything to you people.”He pulled his dark brows together. “Having one of my contestants eaten by a wild animal isn’t good for ratings.” He slid his gaze to mine. “Besides, ratings are already through the roof.”“I’m happy for you and all, but I need to figure out why I need to be here.” I tried not to sound heartless, but I still wasn’t sure why an animal attack was my problem.Max glanced at Lucinda. “Would you mind if I spoke to Detective Decker alone?”She shrugged. “No problem.” She pressed her big hat firmly on her head and wandered over to the cage where her tiger still paced.He turned to me and the pulse at the base of his throat beat swiftly. “The premise of Don’t Die is people take a huge risk and if they pull it off, they get a lot of money. The risk is exaggerated.”“Obviously not.”He winced. “What I mean is we take great care in picking animals that are gentle and have never been involved in anything violent.” He swallowed. “We take precautions like making sure the creatures are well fed and exercised.”“I’m no expert in animal attacks, but it was pretty clear from the body the animal didn’t just maul the victim. He… he ate parts of him too.”Max blanched. “But why would he? We feed the cats constantly to keep them satiated.”“Obviously this cat wanted seconds.”He gripped my arm which surprised me. “Listen, I don’t want to be dramatic, but as I told your Lieutenant; something seems off lately.”The feel of his fingers on my arm was oddly distracting. I ignored the fluttering in my gut and said, “Off how?”“I don’t know. Things keep happening.”“Elaborate, please,” I said gruffly.“One of the Burmese Pythons got out of its cage last week and almost strangled a camera tech. The snake’s cage is a double lock type of thing. How would he get out?”“Okay. But my pet iguana got out when I was ten. Shit happens.”He twisted his lips. “I want to believe this is an accident. I really do. But I have a bad feeling.”I chuffed. “Well, just because you have indigestion I can’t open an investigation for murder. This could easily just be a tragic animal attack.”His mouth tensed. “I understand you don’t want to waste your time. I don’t want to waste your time either. That’s why I hesitate to even mention the letter I got a week ago.”
There's just a little taste. :) Stay tuned.S.C.www.sc-wynne.comJoin My Newsletter
April 5, 2017
Writing with Riley: Time Management
I get asked often how I manage to do everything I do. How do I find the time? For me...the thing is, even when I have other stuff going on, I make the time. I know that sounds like a simple answer but it's true. First, I'll say I write fast. I'm no Devon McCormack or anything (Hi, Dev!) but I do write fast if I'm really feeling a book and that obviously goes in my favor. Writing is my job, my career, so I don't work outside of the home on top of it, which helps a ton. I get it. But I'm also a mom with a husband who works outside of the home so weekends, summers, Christmas break, spring break, every extra day off from school the kids get is something I have to work around as well.
The easy part first. When the kids are at school, I write. Sure I have appointments and things like that but I try to limit how many of those I schedule when it's my work hours. I try to do my best to treat my job as though I DO work outside of the home. Like I punch a clock daily, because my job is important and just because I work from home, doesn't mean it's not. If you work from home you understand this and you have to make everyone understand that your writing is a priority too.
I try to give myself goals. I need to write at least this amount of words per day. I have this many hours before kids are home so then I have a schedule. I typically check email, FB and such before writing. Then I jump in...and try not to get on again until I've written at least a 1000 words. Then I can check FB again real quick, before I need to get back to my document to clock in another 1000 words. I continue that way throughout the day.
My kids are on a schedule for bedtime. They go to bed at 9:00 PM every school night, so Sunday-Thursday, if I didn't get enough work done, guess who is writing from 9:00-11:00 PM before I go to bed? That would be me :)
I do a lot of my grocery shopping and things like that after the kids are out of school and when my husband is home. He doesn't have to shop during his work hours, and I try not to either. When I say that, I'm not trying to sound like I have animosity or anything toward my husband and his schedule, I'm just saying that my writing is my career so it needs to be treated as such, just like his does. Sometimes we all shop together after school, evenings, or weekends, or sometimes he'll stay home with the girls while I go, but again, that's something I try not to do between 8-1:30 because those are my work hours.
I'm also very, very, VERY lucky that I have an understanding husband. He works with me well. If it's Spring Break or summer, he works during the day, and then a few days a week, when he gets off, I take my laptop down to Panera and I write through the evening while he's ok kid duty. I can't lose days upon days because it's Spring Break. I still have a job to do. We keep a schedule that works well for us.
Every writer is different. I have friends who can go weeks or months without writing. They have to get hit strongly with an idea, out of the blue, and then can work like crazy on a book...and then not write again until the next hits. I'm pretty good at finishing one book and then already having the next idea in my head, or sitting down and saying, "Okay...time to figure out what's next!" and then figuring it out. I have to write. I would lose my mind if I didn't. In this post, I spent a lot of time talking about how writing is my career, but it's also my passion. My love. It's the one thing in my life that is totally mine--not my husband's or my kids'. It's a part of me, so it's easy for me to write five days a week. It's easy for me to make the time because I mentally and emotionally need to write. It literally keeps me sane. I don't say that being funny either. Writing helps me work through a lot in my life--current and previous issues, so I'm not just making the time, no matter how tired I am or how much I have going on, I want to find the time too, because damn, I love what I do.
That's it for me. Hit me up with any questions in the comments :)
Ask Andrew - Returning Next Week
Ask Andrew is your chance to ask questions of a gay romance author. The questions can be about the writing process in general, writing sex scenes, gay men, sex, characters in romance, characters having sex... okay you probably get the picture. I promise to answer your questions as frankly and with as much humor as I possibly can.So if you have a question, please send it to andrewgreybooks@comcast.net. This is different from my usual email so your questions don't get lost. I will answer one question a week.
Please remember this is meant to be all in fun. (I was going to say good, clean fun, but who wants that.) So send me your questions and let's see what mischief we can get into.
Visit Andrew on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andrewgreybooks and you can join Andrew's fan group All The Way With Andrew Grey.
Follow him on Twitter: @andrewgreybooks
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