Kerry Freeman's Blog, page 6

Wordy Wednesday: An Interview with N.R. Walker

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I’m so excited today to interview N.R. Walker, author of Taxes and TARDIS and the upcoming Point of No Return. Welcome N.R.!

Kerry: Hello N.R.! So happy to have you on the blog. I’ve talked several times about starting out in fanfic, and we used to run around in the same fanfic circles. What made you decide to begin writing original fiction?

N.R.: Thanks for having me! The main reason I started writing original fiction was because of time. I was spending far too much time writing fanfic, and realized I needed to either commit that time to writing original works for myself or to step back from writing all together. It was starting to affect my family time, so I needed to give getting published a shot or give it away. I have met the most wonderful people through online fiction sites, and it was my fanfic readers who encouraged me enough, in one way or another, to give writing original fiction a go.

K: How do you think writing fanfic has helped you?

N.R.: There is just no way I would have considered writing for publication without dipping my toe in the pool first, so to speak. Writing is an on-going learning process, and writing fanfic and having that immediate feedback from readers was a huge learning curve for me. I never actually started writing fanfic with the intention to write original stories, it’s just the way it happened for me. I found fanfic by accident, submitted my first fanfic without any real idea of what I was doing, and the rest is history. The more I wrote, the more I realized it was what I wanted to do.

K: Your first book Taxes and TARDIS came out earlier this year. I am huge fan of stories about geeks, and your book features a geek love interest. Are you a geek yourself?

N.R.: LOL Although I’ve never classified myself as one, a friend recently told me I was. [image error] I love watching sci-fi, love reading and writing, so if that makes me a geek, I’ll proudly be one. And for the record, I’m a bigger fan of Torchwood than Doctor Who.

K: Your new book Point of No Return will be released by Silver Publishing on August 18th. Where did the idea for this story originate?

N.R.: I had the basic idea of having two main characters being tough guys, who did boxing as sport. I loved the idea of having strong, masculine, kick-ass, gay characters. The idea for Point of No Return stemmed from that. My main character, Matt, does boxing for fitness at his gym and gets a new boxing coach, who he falls for. Boxing isn’t a critical plot point, but it is interwoven throughout.

I’m really excited about having Point of No Return released. I actually wrote and submitted it before Taxes and TARDIS, so I really do feel like it’s my first. And in my opinion, it’s the best thing I’ve written.

K: Describe Matt and Kira each in three words.

N.R.: Matt: Honest, loyal, torn. Kira: Gorgeous, strong, fighter.

K: Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do the characters do things you don’t expect?

N.R.: I always like to have little plot points, or milestones from beginning to end, which I aim for when writing to help steer my story, but essentially I let my characters have free rein. I have, on occasion, had to go back and change direction because one character has reacted in a way that would have changed the story. But all in all, they dictate while I type. LOL

K: Last question: what advice would you give a writer trying to get their first book published?

N.R.: Look around at different publishers, so you know what they’re looking for, and that what they publish, is what you can offer. Look for special submissions, where a publisher has put a call-out for something specific. Be prepared for concrit, and even rejections, but don’t let it stop you. And just keep writing.

Thanks so much, N.R.! Looking forward to reading Point of No Return when it comes out.

Buy at Silver Publishing on August 18th

Matthew Elliot is one of LA’s best detectives. He’s been labelled the golden boy of the Fab Four; a team of four detectives who’ve closed down drug-rings all over the city. He’s smart, tough and exceptionally good at his job.

He’s also a closeted gay man.

Enter Kira Takeo Franco, the new boxing coach at the gym. Matthew can’t deny his immediate attraction to the man his fellow cops know as Frankie. But in allowing himself to fall in love with a man known to his colleagues, Matthew risks outing them both. Matt and Kira work to keep their relationship and private lives hidden from Matt’s very public life, fearing it would be detrimental to their careers.

But it’s not the other cops who Matthew should be worried about finding out his deepest, darkest secret… it’s the bad guys.

Buy at Silver Publishing

Buy at Amazon

When Brent Kelly meets his new accountant, he doesn’t expect a cute geeky guy with dark-rimmed glasses and a TARDIS-blue shirt. He also doesn’t expect to be intrigued by him. Most certainly, he doesn’t expect to fall in love.



Brent Kelly is a laid-back tradesman whose only concerns are drinks with friends and which man to bed next. In need of a new accountant to sort out his nightmarish shoebox of tax receipts, he’s referred to Logan Willis. He doesn’t expect to be intrigued by the science fiction-loving, geeky guy with dark-rimmed glasses and a TARDIS-blue shirt. So his fascination with the soft-spoken Englishman surprises him, and their mutual attraction is completely unexpected. He most certainly never expects to fall in love. One a jock and the other a geek, both men know the differences between them are vast and could cause problems. But in this opposites-attract erotic drama, maybe it’s the differences between them that make staying together worth the fight.

N.R. Walker’s blog

N.R. Walker on Twitter

N.R. Walker on Facebook

Call Me Maybe Countdown #8: Prison Bus

Geir Halvorsen/Flickr

Would this be a metaparody?

Christmas in July: A new freebie from me

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A while back, I wrote a story for the Goodreads M/M Romance group. It was supposed to go up for Christmas, but I didn’t manage to finish it until January. So Kris, the organizer of the Create Your Own M/M Story challenge, decided to hold it for a Christmas in July treat.

For the Create Your Own M/M Story challenge, the members of the M/M Romance group vote on which prompts an author uses in a story. The prompts are usually a little nutty, and they didn’t disappoint me for my story. The prompts for my story were:

Setting: a shopping mall on Christmas eve and don’t forget the stressed-out staff and overly vigilant security! AND waiting in the queue at the best Christmas tree lot in the area

Background to one of the main protags: one has an unusual form of Christmas carol Tourette’s

Another character: an obsessively superstitious Christmas elf

A conflict: animated mistletoe that seems to delight in appearing above the strangest pairings in order to create the most fuss

An object/phrase/theme/whatever to be mentioned in the story somewhere: a tinsel g-string

My main goal when writing the story was not to make the Tourette’s a source of comedy. I wanted Zach to be relatable and sensitive. I didn’t want him humiliated.

You can download the story at Goodreads. Hope you enjoy it!

Blurb

Buford is Santa’s right-hand elf, and he knows Christmas success hinges on one thing: his yearly pre-sleigh-launch good deed. This year, though, he’s not having any luck finding a deed that needs doing.

Santa’s son Michael works at the mall while he studies business management and the cute cashier he manages. The cute cashier doesn’t seem to even notice Michael, making Christmas less bright than it could be.

Buford decides matchmaking will be his good deed. Can he get Michael and the cute cashier together and save Christmas?

Excerpt

The line for trees trailed into the parking lot, and it only inched forward every few minutes. Michael spent the time catching up on news from home and listening to Buford describe every inch of his new house. Michael understood why he needed to study, but he really wished this MBA thing was already over so he could go home.

Just as his homesickness reached its peak, he reached the end of the line. The selection was sparse, and Michael gave up any hope of salvaging his Christmas.

Then he found himself staring into the gorgeous brown eyes he’d been dreaming of for months.

“Zach.” Michael’s hands shook, so he clenched them into tight fists.

Zach brushed his hair to the side and muttered a line from “O Holy Night.” “Hello, Michael.”

All the other tree farm employees were watching the interaction warily. Mindful of his observers, Michael spoke carefully. “It’s great to see you. I didn’t know you worked here too.”

Hair brush. Muttered words. “Family business. I help.”

Another thing to love about him. Michael tried to quiet his inner Cupid. “I know a bit about that. Going to work at my family’s place after I graduate. A lot of tradition to uphold.”

A shy smile spread across Zach’s face, and his cheeks colored. “Nice to know we have somethin’ in common.”

Michael’s gaze followed the slow swipe of Zach’s tongue along his lower lip. Zach’s long, graceful fingers swept across his brow, brushing his hair and revealing another glimpse of his twinkling eyes. The motion was quickly followed by a soft line of “Silent Night.” But for the first time, Zach didn’t look away or cover his mouth with a shaking hand.

A jerk of his pants leg snapped Michael from his spell. He looked down, wondering what the hell was going on, and remembered. Oh, yeah, I’ve got an elf with me.

“Sorry, Bue,” Michael whispered. “What’s up?”

Buford winked. “I better get back to work.” Wink. “I’ve got that big deadline.” Wink. Wink. “You can pick out the tree without me, yeah?”

“Sure thing. Thanks for coming by to help.” Michael couldn’t resist a wink of his own.

Buford hugged Michael’s legs, and Michael bent down and hugged back. He waved at Buford until he couldn’t see the little matchmaker anymore.

Zach cleared his throat. “Um, is he your boyfriend?” Hair brush. Line of “Please Come Home for Christmas.”

Michael really hoped that last line was an invitation. “Bue? No, he’s just an old friend. We grew up together.”

Zach stared at his feet, but Michael thought he could see a slight upturn at the corners of Zach’s mouth. Zach turned and gave one of his co-workers a head tilt. The man, who was an older, taller version of Zach nodded in response.

“Follow me.”

Music Monday: Call Me Maybe Countdown #9

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Xesc Arbona/Flickr

Day two of the Call Me Maybe Countdown brings us some love for Furries and their friends. The Big Ten Mascots, that is. Sparty looks like he’s taking this thing pretty seriously, dontcha think?

Call Me Maybe Countdown #10: Abercrombie & Fitch Guys

Andrew Warran/Flickr

Strange things happen when I’m sick. I pig out on junk food. I sleep sitting up. I leave the TV on true crime shows all day. And right now I’m sick sick sick *cough* *sneeze* *sniffle* *wheeze*

In the midst of my respiratory distress, I’ve decided to do a countdown of my favorite “Call Me Maybe” videos on YouTube. Why? Maybe because the fever has already caused some brain damage. I’m really not sure. But it seems like a good idea.

Number 10 on my countdown may be a bunch of guys who apparently don’t now all the words. But, come on, they’re cute and shirtless. Who cares if they can lipsync? [image error]

 

Come back tomorrow for some furry love at #9.

Wordy Wednesday Guest Post: Beware – Characters on the Loose! by Adriana Kraft

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This week I’m so happy to have a post by Adriana Kraft, a married couple writing erotic romance together under a single penname. Take it away guys! [image error]

Sometimes I wonder if we create our characters, or if they truly are persons who have their own lives, in some other dimension, and if we’re lucky, we catch a whiff of it and get to put it on the page.

That’s certainly how I feel about Jen Andrews, heroine of the Swinging Games series my husband and I started writing over three years ago. For those who don’t know us, he and I co-write erotic romance under the pen name Adriana Kraft.

Quite naturally, when we got started with the series, we thought we’d invented her. Having a baby-boomer couple with their children grown who check out the swing lifestyle because the wife wants to explore whether or not she’s bisexual seemed like an excellent device to get a wide range of ménage scenes in front of readers to heat up their fantasy life.

And it has succeeded in that goal, for sure. By now Jen and Brett are seasoned  lifestylers who swing regularly with a few close couples, who host house parties, and who visit lifestyle clubs. And we have lots more adventures planned for them – a lifestyle cruise, a convention, a hotel takeover, for starters.

But first, they have to make it through their current bump-in-the-road. We thought it would be fun to explore with them what some hot three-way sex would be like with a single woman – the elusive “Unicorn” of the swing lifestyle. Enter Sarah Creston, newly widowed and ready to try her wings, looking for a gentle couple to be her mentors. So far, so good.

The Problem? Jen has a mind of her own, and now she has eyes only for Sarah – so much so, that Brett is starting to wonder just how this is all going to turn out.

That’s where Book Nine picks up the story. Released earlier this month at Extasy Books, Too Close for Comfort picks up the story when Sarah moves in with Brett and Jen for the summer.

Blurb

It all seemed so simple: Sarah Creston would move in for the summer, Brett and Jen Andrews could revel in their new threesome, and everyone else would understand. But now Donna and Ryan – their best friends and lovers – won’t speak to them, and Jen seems so infatuated with Sarah that even Brett is worried about the consequences.

Battered from the double whammy of her husband’s death and caring for her aging parents, Sarah Creston thrills to Jen and Brett’s exquisite care and ravishing sex. Now that she’s had her first taste of a woman, will she be satisfied – or will she want more?  Everything hinges on what Sarah wants.

Excerpt

“I could really get used to this,” Sarah whispered, stretching out over Jen. Heat poured through her body as Jen’s legs wrapped around hers like a vise.

“Me, too,” Jen murmured. “This is so good. You are so good.”

“We are so good,” Sarah echoed. “I fantasized about us making love for hours, but I didn’t think this was possible.” She checked the clock in Jen and Brett’s bedroom. “I was wrong.”

Jen giggled. “Delightfully wrong. We should probably get up and fix supper before Brett gets home.”

“Don’t you want one more?” Sarah pressed her pubic bone against Jen’s. “You’re still very wet. Brett won’t mind if supper’s a little late.”

Jen chuckled. “Particularly if he can have you as an appetizer.”

“Any time,” Sarah said, beginning to rock in earnest against Jen. “I never knew I’d become such a glutton for sex. I’ve been living with you guys for two weeks and I still can’t seem to get enough of either one of you.”

“Or us you,” Jen murmured, tightening her arms around Sarah and arching her lower body upward.

“That’s right. One more time. Let’s do it.” Sarah kissed Jen’s shuttered eyelids and began sliding her pussy across Jen’s clit.

“Oh yeah.” Jen let out a low moan. “You’ve become an artist with your pussy.” Jen raised her legs in the air and spread them wide. “Go for it, girl. Let’s come together.”

Gasping, Sarah increased her pace until she wasn’t certain if she could hear Jen’s pleasure moans or if those noises were coming from her own lips.

Buy Too Close For Comfort at:

Extasy Books

Amazon

Amazon UK

Find Adriana Kraft on the web:

Official Website

Blog

Facebook

Facebook author page

Twitter

Music Monday: Alex Clare

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In our day jobs, my husband and I both work with Microsoft technologies, but our home network is a motley crew. I’ve become a strictly Apple chick: laptop, iPad, and phone. Hubby got his iPad first, but his laptop is Windows, his phone is Android, and his browser (and mine) is Chrome.

We both agree that the only good thing about IE 9 is the commercial. More specifically, the song in the commercial. Now the song is on my “tunes I sing in the car while I pretend no one can see me” playlist. Here is a great unplugged version.

Wordy Wednesday: August Ice by Dev Bentham

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Today I’m happy to highlight a brand spanking new book from Dev Bentham. August Ice was just released by Loose Id, and you can find it at the Loose Id and Amazon.

Blurb:

It takes a special kind of person to work in Antarctica. Max Conway, an ex-Navy Seal, loves working at the bottom of the world. Like any other diver, he’s tough and hard drinking. Half the year he’s stuck in the States traveling the commercial dive circuit and hitting gay bars every night. The other six months he’s lead safety diver at McMurdo Station in Antarctica, reveling in the cold blue Antarctic Sea. The only drawback to life way down under is that Max feels like he has to tuck his libido into storage while he’s on station, stashing all those free condoms for use back up north. That is until Andre Dubois, a gorgeous French scientist, shakes up his world. Not only is Andre out and proud, he’s sober as the day is long. And the days are long during an Antarctic summer. Max must choose between his comfortable inebriated closet and a life in the sun with Andre.

Excerpt:

Deep blue in all directions. Light streaming in pale shafts from the ice ceiling to the ocean bottom, which burned with deep red sea anemones. A flock of penguins swam close, their sleek black backs brushing against him like a lover. He was swimming with them, pressed by slick feathers on all sides, no tank, no regulator, no cold. It felt like flying.

* * * *

Somewhere a door slammed.

Max Conway squinted one eye open, then shut it tight against the stab of light. He wasn’t underwater. Wasn’t even in Antarctica. Not yet. He lurched to sitting, and pain rolled through his head like a bowling ball. His mouth felt like he’d been eating mothballs, and his stomach twisted painfully. God, he hated mornings.

He swung his legs off the bed and willed his eyes open a crack. No wonder his head hurt. Someone had left the curtains open. Max could see through to the hotel pool sparkling in the sunshine. Pool? Hotel? He closed his eyes again and tried to reconstruct the night.

The last thing he remembered was doing shots with the guys at some dive bar Bones had found in the eastern suburbs. He sneaked a peak at the room. Beige carpet, a red-and-gold-striped bedspread, a carving on the wall that looked vaguely Maori—typical Christchurch hotel fare. The question was, how did he get here?

“Ah, you’re awake.” A man’s voice, sounding deep, soft with a trace of an accent. Max turned toward the sound, trying to ignore the lurch of his gut at the movement.

A tall, thin man stood at the end of the bed, toweling dry a mop of dark hair and watching him through startlingly blue eyes. He had a classic swimmer’s body—strong-chested and slim-hipped—unlike Max’s own diver form, packed thick with bulging muscles earned swinging around fifty-pound dive tanks. Lean ropes of muscle ran down The Guy’s arms. A tattoo of inky spikes that looked like loops of barbed wire encircled a biceps. Ringlets of hair curled around his nipples and trailed down his belly. A pair of worn blue sweatpants rode low on his hips.

Max licked his lips. It was hard to believe he wouldn’t remember having some of that. His gaze traveled back up The Guy’s torso to settle in those Antarctic Ocean–blue eyes.

He cleared his throat and managed to croak out, “Hey.”

The Guy gestured toward the bedside table. “There’s water. You feel terrible, yes?”

Max started to nod and stopped at the vertigo. He turned, expecting to see one of those weenie hotel glasses, but instead, there sat a large red aluminum water bottle.

“Thanks.” The water tasted sweet. Max chugged it and waited while the wave of dizziness washed over him. What was it Bones called this, the morning freebie drunk?

Bones. Christ. Had the guys seen him leave the bar with a man? How the fuck would he explain that?

The Guy was watching him. “I’m assuming you don’t want breakfast.”

Max’s stomach rebelled at the thought. He shook his head slowly.

“You’re welcome to shower. I’ll go to the lobby and get us some coffee.” He tossed his towel onto a chair and reached for a sweatshirt.

Max watched him smoothly shove his arms into the shirtsleeves, his torso disappearing beneath the bulky shirt. His head popped through the neck hole, hair already springing into curls. He caught Max watching him, and his lips twisted into a sardonic smile.

Max stood, let his body adjust to the change, and stumbled toward the bathroom. He made the mistake of looking in the mirror. He brushed a hand through his close-cropped brown hair. His eyes, usually his best feature, were so bloodshot they looked more red than brown. Tawny, that was what a guy in California had called them. Max snorted. Right now, they looked more like bloody shit. He turned on the water and stepped out of his boxers. Boxers. And he wasn’t sore anywhere. Maybe nothing had happened. Good. He hated to think he’d finally gotten lucky in Christchurch and couldn’t remember a thing. And that long, tall drink of whatever was something he was sure he’d hate to forget.

He turned the faucet to as hot as he could stand and stepped in. Jets of water stung his chest. The cascade of warmth felt good, not like that pathetic excuse for a shower at the place he’d been sharing with the guys for the last month while they trained and waited on the weather. He ran a hand over the stiff bristle of stubble on his chin. No razor, no toothbrush, and he felt like shit. Hooyah. He plunged his head into the spray, filled his mouth with hot water, swished it around to dislodge the sweaters on his teeth, and spit. The hotel soap felt tiny in his hand, but he lathered up the best he could, scrubbing from balls to bald as his old man used to say.

By the time he stepped out of the shower he felt human again, even if his head still ached and it would be a while before he wanted to eat. He pictured that sleek torso, those mariner eyes. Maybe he’d get lucky after all.

He looked for his jeans, which he was pretty sure he would have left in a heap on the floor. They hung neatly across the back of a chair. He was shrugging on his tee when The Guy returned carrying coffees.

He handed one to Max and produced creamers and sugar packets from the pocket of his sweats. He held them out. “I didn’t know how you like your coffee, or what passes for coffee here.”

Max shook his head. “Thanks. Black’s fine.”

The Guy shrugged with an elegant lift of his shoulders. He placed his own coffee on the desk and began opening sugar packets. “It’s all piss water anyway.”

Max watched long fingers tear another sugar packet and cleared his throat. “Look, I…um…”

Blue eyes shone from beneath incredibly long lashes. The man shook his head and focused again on his coffee. “You don’t remember anything from last night?”

Max started to protest, but what did it matter? He had to meet Smitty and Bones soon, and weather permitting, the plane would finally leave for McMurdo early the next morning. The best he could hope for from this particular encounter would be a quick fuck, after which he’d never see The Guy again. Not that Max ever kept in touch anyway. Love-’em-and-leave-’em worked for lovers, for family, for the whole fucking waste of humanity.

Max shrugged. “Sorry. I must have had one too many last night.”

Buy August Ice at Loose Id

Buy August Ice at Amazon

August Ice at Goodreads

Dev’s blog

Dev on Twitter

Music Monday: A theme song for René

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(I know it’s Tuesday, but my internet was down yesterday.)

I’m one of those authors that needs a theme song while I’m writing. It can be a song for one of the main characters or one that relates to the story as a whole. It’s just nice to have a song that can inspire you while you’re working and later remind you of your character or your book. Until recently, I didn’t have a song for my upcoming book. But that changed when I found the perfect song for René, one of the main characters.

René is a high school baseball coach from Mobile (pronounced Mo-beel), Alabama. He might be on the reserved side around his students, but he’s proud of who he is and who he loves. He isn’t used to having to hide his feelings. And if he wants to be with Matt, he’ll have to.

The first time I heard Christina Perri’s “Distance,” I knew it was René’s song. I’ll never be able to listen to it again without thinking about his story. And I love that.

11 years ago today…

Parisian Love Lock by Allen Skyy

“I am so sorry I’m late. I’m on my way. I promise.”

Standing outside the steakhouse, I was dressed in the red shirt and black leggings I told him I’d be wearing. It was the third time he’d called, sounding more desperate each time.

I nodded to my cellphone. “Okay. I’ll just go get a table, and you can meet me inside.”

“I’ll be the redhead.”

Over the next hour, numerous wait staff stopped to check on me. “You want something to drink, hun?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ll just wait.”

I watched the door, my heart pounding every time a ginger man walked in and then sinking each time he went to another table. The wait staff were now giving me sad, sympathetic looks. I’d talked to him for a month online and on the phone. I was sure he’d show up.

Wouldn’t he?

A tall, brawny man in baseball cap walked over to my table. “Kerry?”

I knew that deep twang. It had talked, laughed, whispered to me for hours and hours over the last month. My sinking heart was now light as air.

“Yeah.”

He sat down across from me. “Sorry I’m so late. I was working on a computer and lost track of time.”

“It’s okay.” Well, it was now.

–

My husband is a saint. No, really. Anyone that could put up with me for eleven years would have to be. And then he went and married me, if you can believe it. Now he’s stuck with me.

And he still never gets anywhere on time.

I love you, baby, and I’m looking forward to the next eleven years of our goofiness.

Now take me to breakfast [image error]