Rick R. Reed's Blog, page 64

THROWBACK THURSDAY: My First Happily-Ever-After Romance, VGL MALE SEEKS SAME

Every Thursday, I use this blog to highlight a title from my list of books and stories already out there that you might have missed. This week, I'm throwing back to one of my very first HEA M/M love stories, VGL MALE SEEKS SAME. For those of you who don't know, the acronyyms stand for: happily-ever-after, male/male, and very good looking (a common abbreviation in gay personals ads). Rainbow Reviews had this to say about VGL MALE SEEKS SAME: 
"5 Stars!...A phenomenal story about the search for love and the one person we can connect with in every way..."--Rainbow Reviews
BLURBPoor Ethan Schwartz. It seems like he will never find that special someone. At age 42, he's still alone, his bed still empty, and his 42-inch HDTV overworked. He's tried the bars and other places where gay men are supposed to find one another, but for Ethan, it never works out. He wonders if it ever will. Should he get a cat? 

But all of that is about to change. At work, Ethan hears about a website that promises to deliver more than just the tawdry hook-ups associated with so many other sites. Ethan wants romance, and although he's always been a little shy about the whole cyber-dating scene, he figures he has nothing to lose. 


Well, maybe he does have something to lose: his self-esteem. After he posts his profile, he gets zero responses. But Ethan realizes one thing about the cyberworld that isn't true in the real one: Online, Ethan can be anyone he wants to be. 


And a new persona is born. The new Ethan is handsome (with someone else's pic) and the sudden recipient of dozens of online come-ons. What Ethan doesn't count on, however, is finding--among the propositions and the flattery--his one true love. Not just a gorgeous man, but one who suits him in almost every way. 


How does Ethan turn his budding cyber love into a real one? And can he hang on to his mystery suitor without turning him off with his deception? 

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EXCERPT...For years, Ethan had observed the hoopla surrounding the Internet and its supposed ease of getting people together for sex, romance, half price books, and even cut-rate psychotherapy, but never thought he would traverse its well-traveled highways to meet a man. Somehow, it all seemed too cheap and easy, almost tawdry. Ethan wanted to meet a man through a mutual friend, at a dinner party perhaps, where the assembled group (all attractive upwardly mobile professionals and artists) were enjoying paella and whimsical cocktails like sidecars or Tom Collins. Their eyes would meet over the olive tapenade and they would exchange phone numbers while waiting for the host to bring them their coats. Or, even better, they would meet in a bookstore (no, not that kind!) where they would both be reaching for a copy of the latest David Sedaris at the exact same moment and then would laugh and insist that the other take the shelf copy first. Or maybe he would discover his intended as he rode alone on Lake Michigan’s bike trail and his future beloved would help him when he got a flat tire. It was a story they would tell their grandchildren.
“Yeah, right.” Ethan blew out a big sigh and hit the TAB key to take him to the first box needing to be filled in. “That’s not the way it happens these days. These days, guys meet online. Period. Jane Austen would be appalled.”
Filling out the application to be a member of wingpeople.com was not all that different than filling out a job application. Ethan shook his head. That wasn’t true at all! Filling out a job application was much easier. At least a job application didn’t ask you about your most intimate physical dimensions, or if you considered yourself a top or a bottom, or “versatile.” A job application would never ask if you considered yourself to have a swimmer’s build, or if there was “more of you to love.” A job application would never ask if you “partied,” although they might test to see if you did, if they became serious about hiring you. Filling out paperwork for a job would never require you to tell, in great detail, what you were looking for in a potential mate.
But Ethan supposed all this information, all this nosy prying, was for a good purpose, which was to match you up with other like-minded souls. And Ethan actually adored the idea of that. He was not one of these middle-aged men he saw wandering around Halsted Street dressed in head-to-toe Abercrombie and Fitch, hoping to find a “boy” of no more than thirty years or so.
Ethan wanted a companion, someone he could relate to, someone with a bit of a shared history. He wondered if this route could ever deliver such a bird.
He wondered if such a bird even existed, or if it had gone the way of the dodo.
Finally, Ethan got through the laborious screens of questions and was ready to hit “submit.” He was even pleased with the photo of himself he had decided on using, dredged up from some of his event publicity files from his work folder. In the photo, taken just a few months ago, he was shown smiling with the director of the latest offering at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. He had simply cropped out the grinning, bespectled director and voila, he had himself a halfway-decent headshot. At least the picture was honest and, in its way, flattering. He hoped at least one or two men out there in cyberland would be inclined to agree.
He hit “submit,” wondering as he did if the obvious sexual connotations of the word had occurred to anyone else.
As soon as a “thank you” message popped up, telling Ethan his message was in the queue awaiting approval (which would take eight to twelve hours), sweat began to pop up on his brow. “Good Lord,” he wondered aloud, “what did I just do?”
He thought of the poor folks whose forays into dating sites and social networks like MySpace or Friendster ended up on Dr. Phil, or worse, Judge Judy, and the woe those people experienced when they exposed their more intimate sides to the world. They were idiots, as Judy and Phil would say, with no more sense than God gave a grasshopper. His little adventure could end up coming back to haunt him. What, for example, would Bubbles have to say about his profile once it was approved and active? Would he snicker behind manicured nails and call over the entire office to gape and guffaw at his photo and his predilection for forties noir classics? And that kind of information was the least of his worries—he had divulged to the entire world his sexual likes and dislikes, for cryin’ out loud.
He got up and got a Coke Zero and tried to reassure himself by saying that he was just flattering himself. Everyone was online these days and the truth was no one would really even care about him or his little profile. All he needed to really worry about was that some imagined man out there, reasonably good looking, well-read, and with a quirky sense of humor, would pause long enough at his profile to send him a message...
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Good Karma, Good Books: MEET CUTE by C.C. Dado

Every Wednesday, I put on my pimp clothes (I favor feathered hats and zebra prints with a little crushed velvet) and help promote the new or old work of some of my favorite fellow authors. Be sure to stop by every week and see what’s new. This week, I’m all about C.C. Dado's adorably titled, MEET CUTE. 

Here’s what C.C. has to say about MEET CUTE:

"This title was very important in the story because I redefined what a meet-cute is. Cute little glances across a crowded room followed by some quirky intro to some hot dirty dancing never happens to me, it's more like tripping and smacking my face in front of the guy I've been eyeing all night. That's my meet-cute." 

BLURB
Elliot Beck may not have been blessed with mad art skills, a crooner's voice, or a godlike physique, but he makes up for it with an abundance of quick-witted sarcasm, massive insecurities, and a love of bad boys.
After his best friend Trevor finds him naked and tied to his bed—abandoned by his latest troublemaker—Trevor convinces him to take a chance on a nice guy. When he has an awkward encounter in the men's restroom with a fitness instructor named Chase, he never suspects the Adonis might be his perfect bad boy.
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Why I Write

Today, I’m in a philosophical mood and asking myself a deep question: why do I write? I mean, it’s something I don’t have to do, right?

But perhaps asking that latter question gets to the root of things. Maybe I do have to write. Maybe I can’t help myself. When I asked that question, I tried to think of other things I had to do every day and came up with things like brushing my teeth, taking the handful of pills every day that keep me healthy and possibly alive, sleeping enough, eating right. Those things all keep me balanced and on the right path. I could choose not to do them, but why, when I would be harming myself?

I think I could make the same conclusion about writing, about living for a while in an imaginary world. Maybe I do have to do that, because if I didn’t, I’d be harming myself.

Consider: I’ve been making up stories since I was about six years old. And perhaps, if I’d had a different childhood, one that kept me free from bullying, incessant teasing, and loneliness, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today. Writing filled a void…it still does. It gives me control over at least a world in my imagination, often when any control of the real world seems increasingly out of my grasp. Writing, like reading, allows me an escape.

For those of you who might have thought the answer to this self-posed question might be something like fame or fortune, I really have to scoff at that answer. For one, although I’ve achieved a small measure of success, those things still elude me. And they eluded me before I’d had a single word published. Yet, I wrote and wrote and wrote…even when there was no promise of financial or public reward. Why? It’s work. It’s hard. It’s lonely.

Because I’m compelled to. Because I need to. Even if I had never seen a story or book published, I believe I would still be writing. It’s my safety release valve. It’s my gift to myself, even if I can find about a million things to procrastinate about before getting down to business. It’s my gift (or curse?) from a higher power. I honestly believe there’s a thin line between creativity and insanity…and perhaps it’s the writing, the telling of stories, that keeps me just a hair on the side of creativity.

In closing, I offer you a few word from a woman who I think also had to write, Pearl S. Buck:

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him… a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”

This post was originally published on the Dreamspinner Press Blog August 12, 2015.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: My Reality TV Romance, HUSBAND HUNTERS

Cover art by Paul RichmondEvery Thursday, I use this blog to highlight a title from my list of books and stories already out there that you might have missed. This week, I'm throwing back to a story that I got inspiration from the strangest place: HGTV's House Hunters TV show. I asked the 'what if?' question so many writers ask when starting a new tale. This time it was, "What if House Hunters replaced houses with men?" OnTopDownUnder Reviews called Husband Hunters:
"The ultimate friends-to-lovers story..."
BLURBYou never know where the love of your life might turn up. 
When Matt Connelly suggests to his best buddy Cody Mook that they head to downtown Seattle to audition for the gay reality TV showHusband Hunters, both agree the experience might be a lark and a chance to grab their fifteen minutes of fame. What they don't know is that the show, modeled after HGTV's House Hunters, will open doors of longing neither expected. For Matt, the secret love he has long harbored for Cody might be thrust into the spotlight. Cody might realize his search for his perfect-forever-man extends no farther than the man who's always been at his side. 
Husband Hunters promises laughter, tears, and, just maybe, a happy ever after. Will Cody and Matt's story be one of best-friends-to-lovers—or an outright disaster?
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EXCERPT“COUCH CRITIC” TV Weekly MagazineBy Amory Columbus
This week’s review takes a look at the latest entry in the reality television craze: Husband Hunters. For better or worse, reality TV and shows like this one have become a mainstay of twenty-first century entertainment delivered via the tube. Do TVs even have tubes anymore? I digress….
Husband Hunters is based on a simple premise, shamelessly modeled after another life-decision show: HGTV’s House Hunters. As we all know, that show takes us into the life of someone hunting for the perfect home. We get to stomp around with the potential buyer, testing the water pressure, checking out the backyard, searching for cracks in the ceiling. It’s all great fun and gives us a beginning, middle, and end, and leads up to a happy ending where we get to see the contented homeowner or owners all settled in their new nest, where they will live in residential bliss for many years to come.
Like House Hunters, Husband Hunters does much the same thing, focusing on someone who wants to find that perfect situation where one can be happy for the rest of one’s life—or at least the immediate future. But this show takes an even more modern twist, because it is about gay men looking for husbands. Along with the blossoming of reality television, the twenty-first century has also witnessed the blossoming of marriage equality, so that the premise for Husband Hunters is not only compelling but entirely possible—and legal.
Husband Hunters does not stray far from the show it’s modeled after in its basic premise. We have a gay man looking to get hitched and follow him as he spends three separate weekends with three potential suitors. We are privy to the conversation (easy or stilted), the gazes (soulful, embarrassed, or barely concealed boredom), the dinners, the breakfasts, and the activities the producers planned, designed to help the couples get to know one another. In recent episodes we have seen everything from a kayaking adventure on Kauai’s Wailua River to antiquing in St. Charles, Illinois, to attending the famous Sundance Film Festival. We are not privy to what goes on overnight between the “contestants.”
At the end of the three weekends, our single gay hero chooses one man to go on and… marry! Yes, darling, you heard me right. This ain’t your father’s Dating Game. In a fast-forward to a few weeks or a few months later, we get to be witnesses at a ceremony wherein the couple says their “I do’s.”
Cynical side note: one thing that not many folks know is that the network pays for the divorce if the couple decides to split up within one year. But that’s not something they talk about—it would be like focusing on a skid mark in a Fruit of the Loom ad. Yuck!
Anyway, your Couch Critic is here to answer the question: does this show make for good television? Like the show it’s modeled after, Husband Hunters offers us a complete story with a beginning, middle, and an end. You can’t help but get invested in our lovelorn single guy out to find the man of his dreams. Will he choose the hot but buttoned-down CPA from Santa Monica? Or will he go with the penniless but talented and oh-so-quirky tattoo artist from the Castro? Maybe the ginger bear with the amazing sense of humor will bring him his happily-ever-after. It’s fun to play armchair matchmaker.
But is it ethical? The Couch Critic has to wonder. I presume these guys actually spend more time together beyond the weekend portrayed on the show, just like the House Hunters in that other show must spend time looking at more than simply three options. But it rankles the romantic in me to see such a major life decision become must-watch TV. Can love be parsed into three six- or seven-minute segments?
Oh, what the hell! The romantic in me adores buying into the idea that love can and does happen surrounded by slick production values and ads for Kiehls, Subaru, and the Atlantis Cruise line.
If you can accept the premise and the ethics of a show that creates love and marriage assembly line style like I do, you too may be charmed by Husband Hunters. And you too, like me, may just find yourself more often than not grinning like an idiot or wiping a tear away as you watch the latest installment.
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Good Karma, Good Books: City of Jade by L.J. LaBarthe

Every Wednesday, I put on my pimp clothes (you should see me!) and help promote the new or old work of some of my favorite fellow authors. Be sure to stop by every week and see what’s new. This week, I’m all about CITY OF JADE by L.J. LaBarthe. 

Here’s what L.J. has to say about CITY OF JADE:
"This book has been nothing but a labor of love for me. Even as it has frustrated me at times, made me a little teary or made me laugh at myself, this story means a lot to me because it is written with love. I love the history of this period, the history of the different nations and dynasties, the clothing, the food, the nuances between trade markets. I love the characters as they came to me and the incredible photos I looked at of the sites they travelled through, photos captured in recent years by travelers in the regions and shared for all on the internet.

I am a historian, and a quote from David Eddings, says that “turn a historian over and you’ll find a storyteller.” I think that’s quite true, as history is the story of humans past and is endlessly fascinating. For myself, I find the Byzantine Empire of particular interest and the years of the Third Crusade as well. I did a lot of research for this book, and peered at maps, photos, and articles as well as reading blogs from archaeologists and travelers. I would love to follow this route along the Silk Road, but as much of it is in warzones now, that isn't really possible. 

While the book is a stand-alone novel, the characters and the story have stayed with me and I think of them often and with a great deal of fondness. I love the 12th century and the Byzantine Empire, and the history of the Silk Road, and the research was a joy for me which led to writing the book being even more of a joy."

BLURB 1131, The Silk Road. 
Gallienus of Constantinople, a scarred soldier who used to work the city gates, enters a new phase of his life when he meets and falls in love with Misahuen of Gyeongju. But prejudice of same-sex relationships dominates Byzantine society, and both the Emperor and the Church denounce such love. Should Misahuen and Gallienus be discovered, the punishment is castration or death. Fearing he’ll lose Misahuen, Gallienus decides to go with Misahuen when he leaves the city forever. 
A former farmer, Misahuen fled war-torn Korea and journeyed to Constantinople with a merchant caravan. He didn’t expect to take such an interest in a wounded soldier at journey’s end. But he understands the danger, so he and Gallienus join another caravan as guardsmen and begin a two-thousand-mile trip along the Silk Road. Now all they have to do is persevere to their final destination without the truth of their relationship being discovered and being killed because of it… or by the other dangers along the Road.
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THROWBACK THURSDAY: My "Brokeback Mountain" Collaboration with Vivien Dean: THE GHOST IN NUMBER 9

Every Thursday, I use this blog to highlight a title from my list of books and stories already out there that you might have missed. This week, I'm throwing back to an emotional and haunting (literally!) love story I co-write with the amazing romance writer, Vivien Dean, THE GHOST IN NUMBER 9. I like to flatter myself into believing the story has similar themes to the amazing short story, "Brokeback Mountain." Author Lloyd Meeker said this about the story:
"The author might not agree with me that 'The Ghost in Number 9' is a kind of closeted gay man’s 'Christmas Carol'...When the spirit world intervenes to guide someone into a happier life in this world, it’s hard not to see the similarities..."
BLURB For Tony and Carter, room number 9 in the Galaxy Gold motel on Seattle's seedy Aurora Avenue is a refuge. There, the two young lovers have found a place to hide away from a world that would condemn them for their love. Within the darkened, summer-hot confines of room number 9, Carter and Tony can explore their love and lust for one another, free of the burdens of the outside world. But room number 9 holds a terrible and tragic secret, one that dates back to the Galaxy Gold's opening back in 1962, when Seattle was hosting its World's Fair. There's a ghost in room number 9, and he has a message for Tony and Carter, a message about the consequences of shame and hiding love behind a closed motel room door. 
Will Tony and Carter listen to the ghost's message and have the courage to bring their love out into the open? Or will this long-ago story, one eerily similar to Tony and Carter's, be ignored? The answer awaits in room number 9... 
Genres: Gay / Paranormal / Hauntings / Ghosts / Interracial / Multicultural
Length: 11k words
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EXCERPT
...When he returned to the bedroom, a man was sitting in one of the chairs opposite the bed. His legs were crossed and he made Carter think of the TV series, Mad Men. He had that perfect Don Draper look: dark hair neatly parted at the side, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal hairy forearms, a pair of gray slacks, creased, and a pair of black wingtips. The man was smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air in rings. 
He looked over at Carter as though he had been expecting him. He smiled. 
For Carter’s part, he didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, run, or question his sanity. “How did you get in here?” 
The man sighed. “I’m always here. I was here when you and your boyfriend were fucking today and every time before.” 
Carter cast his gaze around for an unnoticed closet where the man could have hidden himself, but there was only the freestanding wardrobe in the corner and Carter doubted he could secret himself there. 
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’ll give you a minute to get out of here or else I’m calling the cops.” Carter edged a few steps closer, so that he could snatch his pants from the floor. He felt in the pockets, relieved when he grasped the outlines of his wallet and phone. 
He struggled into the khakis, almost losing his balance. All kinds of creeps walked up and down Aurora, at all hours of the day or night, and all Carter could think was that this one had gotten in when Tony left, forgetting to lock the door behind him. 
Yet, didn’t the door lock automatically? And what did the man mean about always being in the room? And while it was true there were prostitutes and thugs that regularly walked the lengthy north-south traverse of Aurora Avenue, none of them looked as neat (and neat was the best word) as this character. 
Carter shivered, even though the room had no air conditioning. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and put it on, buttoning it with trembling fingers. 
“You know what? Forget it. I’ll just leave and I’ll let the guy at the front desk know you’re here.” Why not? Carter had all his important belongings now. He needed only to slip into his wingtips. 
“Sit down.” 
“What?” 
“Grab a seat on the bed, bud. You know I’m not real.” 
“Not real?” Carter neared the man. “You look real to me.” He reached out to place a hand on the guy’s chest and it was like his hand passed through a fog of cold air...


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Good Karma, Good Books: DIVERSION by Eden Winters

Every Wednesday, I put on my pimp clothes (you should see me!) and help promote the new or old work of some of my favorite fellow authors. Be sure to stop by every week and see what’s new. This week, I’m all about DIVERSION by fellow author and very dear friend, Eden Winters. 

Here’s what Eden has to say about DIVERSION:

"My day job is in pharmaceuticals and the title for  DIVERSION , the first novel in the DIVERSION series started with an article about a gang who stole a tractor-trailer load of drugs from a truck stop. In reality, the heist took two and a half minutes to pull off. My version required five, because even I found two and a half to be a bit unbelievable, although it is true. And because I believe in good triumphing over evil, my thief turned out to be a good guy--now--a reformed trafficker who's working off a ten year sentence by teaching the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau the tricks of his former trade.

The title has duel meaning, as do all the titles in this series. This one because the series deals with pharmaceutical drug diversion, but also because the main characters are two undercover agents who agreed to use each other as a diversion while on assignment (at least, that's how it started out). The other books in the series are COLLUSION, CORRUPTION, MANIPULATION, and REDEMPTION ."

BLURBThere are good guys, bad guys, and then there’s Lucky.
Former drug trafficker Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter flaunts his past like a badge of honor. He speaks his mind, doesn’t play nice, and flirts with disaster while working off his sentence with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. If he can keep out of trouble a while longer he’ll be a free man–after he trains his replacement.
Textbook-quoting, by the book Bo Schollenberger is everything Lucky isn’t. Lucky slurps coffee, Bo lives caffeine free. Lucky worships bacon, Bo eats tofu. Lucky trusts no one, Bo calls suspects by first name. Yet when the chips are down on their shared case of breaking up a drug diversion ring, they may have more in common than they believe.
Two men. Close quarters. Friction results in heat. But Lucky scoffs at partnerships, no matter how thrilling the roller-coaster. Bo has two months to break down Lucky’s defenses… and seconds are ticking by. 
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THROWBACK THURSDAY: My Award-Winning Reincarnation Love Story, ORIENTATION

Every Thursday, I use this blog to highlight a title from my list of books already out there that you might have missed. This week, I'm throwing back to my very touching and complex love story that encompasses reincarnation, love across the years--and lifetimes, and a touch of the paranormal. JesseWave Reviews said of ORIENTATION:

"...The book is a gem and you won't find characters like these anywhere else...I stayed up all night to find out what would happen when the worlds in his story collided...if you're looking for an intricate plot and multifaceted characters who bring an array of complex human emotions to their story, then look no further..."

BLURB
Christmas, 1983: A young man, Robert, tends to his soul mate, Keith, who is dying from AIDS. Robert tries valiantly to make this a special Christmas for his lover, but loses the fight late Christmas night.

Christmas, 2007: Robert ventures out late Christmas night and finds a young girl about to fling herself into the unforgiving waters of Lake Michigan. He rescues her, and the two form a bond forged from an odd feeling they share of familiarity, and even love. Neither understands it, since Jess is a lesbian and Robert has never been attracted to women. But there's more...Jess begins having strange dreams, reliving key moments she couldn't know about in Keith and Robert's life and courtship. Robert and Jess begin to wonder if their inexplicable feelings might be rooted in something much more mystical than a savior/victim relationship.

As the two move toward and pull away from each other, Ethan, Robert's younger lover, plots the unthinkable. His crystal meth-addled mind becomes convinced there's only one way to save himself, and that is through Robert's destruction. Christmas 2007 spirals downward to a shattering climax in which both love and lives hang in the balance.

There's a murder attempt...salvation...redemption...

And a new love is born.

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EXCERPT
...Robert moved a little closer, cautiously. Another step, then another. He stood at the edge of the boulders, uncertain if he should step up on them. He could slip and easily fall—the crashing surf had coated the stones with a sheen of ice. And then he would be the one plunging into the icy water, not her. But worse was the fear that had already occurred to him—sudden movement might be just the impetus she needed to propel herself off the stone and into the freezing black embrace of the water. 
He cleared his throat, stalling for time and trying to think of something to say. “You know, I’ve heard that death by drowning and hypothermia are miserable ways to go. Painful. Suffocating. At least scoot yourself back up here and come home with me. I’ve got a medicine cabinet full of sleeping pills. You could take the whole bottle. Picture yourself lying on clean sheets in a toasty warm room, maybe with some of your favorite music playing. I could open a bottle of good wine for you. Then you could drift off in comfort. Why inflict any more pain on yourself? I know I wouldn’t.” 
The girl stared at him. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and took the opportunity to carefully ascend the boulders until he was standing above her, not three feet away. 
The girl barked out a brief laugh, mirthless. “Who are you? The suicide fairy?” 
Robert sat on the boulders and let his legs stretch out close to her. “Fairy…yes. But I really have a dislike for suicide. It’s for quitters. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that we never know what’s going to happen next. And that applies to the good as well as the bad. You’re young. Why cut yourself off from the possibilities that are out there, waiting for you?” 
“So much for your medicine cabinet full of pills.” 
“Well, I’ve seen too much death and too much pain. I know what you’re thinking of isn’t an answer. An escape, maybe, but not an answer.” 
The girl scooted up next to him. In the dim light, Robert could make out a pug nose and freckles, bow-shaped lips. This was a pretty one. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-three or so. He cocked his head. “Would you mind if I slid my arm around you? It’s so cold.” 
She smiled and shook her head. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” 
Robert took her question as a “yes” and pulled her in close to him, sheltering her as best he could from the wind and freezing spray. “If you mean, am I going to walk away from here and leave you alone, the answer is no. I couldn’t do that. I don’t have it in me. I’m all for personal freedom, but this is one I’d have to block.” 
She leaned into him, burying her head in his chest, and let out a muffled sob. Robert reached up to touch her spiky hair. She sniffed and blew out a big breath, pulling back from him. “Fuck. I can’t even kill myself.” She used his coat to pull herself up to a standing position and looked down at him. “You know, this is a stopgap. You can’t stay with me forever. Once you get me out of here, I can do it again. And yes, I’m gonna let you get me out of here.” 
“Promise me you’ll do it with a little more elegance…a little more style.” Robert looked up at her and smiled. “Those things are all we have to separate us from the beasts. Might I suggest a warm bath, a sharp razor, and the strains of “Con onor muore” from Madama Butterfly?” 
She shook her head. “I do believe you’re more nuts than I am.” 
“That could well be, that could very well be...”
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Good Karma, Good Books: SEEKING THE STORYTELLER by Jessica Walsh & Briana Lawrence

Every Wednesday, I put on my pimp clothes (you should see me!) and help promote the new or old work of some of my favorite fellow authors. Be sure to stop by every week and see what’s new. This week, I’m all about SEEKING THE STORYTELLER by Jessica Walsh and Briana Lawrence.

Here’s what Jessica Walsh has to say about SEEKING THE STORYTELLER:


SEEKING THE STORYTELLER is the first in a series of books, showing off the world Briana and I created through chatting online. Now we sell the book in person at several conventions with our crafts and cosplay.  We love fanart and have a section full of art done of the characters from our books on our site.

BLURB
I know of the Storyteller, it whispers into the man’s ear, I’ve met him. If you promise not to kill me, I’ll take you to him.

Alix Andre DeBenit and Randall Fagan are Hunters, part of a hidden network of humans who track and kill the monsters lurking in our world so everyone else can pretend they don’t exist. But when a living shadow mentions someone called the Storyteller, Alix hesitantly decides to learn more. They say the Storyteller lives in a massive library full of books that tell every being’s life story. He can read these books, rewrite them and change anything he wants, even if it’s already happened. That’s the power Alix wants, the power to bring his murdered family back and he’s determined to make the Storyteller do it. He just has to decide if working with the very creatures he’s supposed to kill is worth it.


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Throwback Thursday: OUT ON THE NET

Every Thursday, I plan on using this blog to highlight a title from my list of books already out there that you might have missed. This week, I'm throwing back to my very funny coming out story--told in blog form, OUT ON THE NET. Indie Reviews said of OUT ON THE NET:

"...a laugh out loud romantic comedy that is interspersed with touching moments and tells the story of a man who decides to open the door of his closet and step out of it on his wedding day..."

BLURB
Ray Tolliver has bad timing. Cold feet? It doesn't get much worse than accepting you're gay twenty minutes before your wedding to a woman, yet that's just what happens.
Join Ray as he recounts in his blog the hilarious and touching events that lead him on a journey toward true love. Although he originally starts looking for love in all the wrong places, will he eventually find another man who wants more than just quick sex? A man who appreciates romance, hearts, and flowers? Or will he find that self-acceptance and bliss do not always go hand-in-hand?

And what of Alice, Ray's lovely, jilted fiancée? Will she find it in her heart to forgive the man who left her at the altar?

These questions and more are answered in this unique love story, told in the form of blog entries. You'll laugh, you'll cry, but you'll come away with a renewed appreciation for the power and difficulties of loving not only others, but yourself...

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Amber Quill Press

EXCERPT
...I get the same question all the time—when did you know when you were gay? Aside from the obvious sarcastic response to such a query—“When did you know you were straight?” And aside from the obvious further probing of the asker—“Well, what do you mean? When did I know? Or when did I accept it?” 
Fine hairs. 
I knew, accepted, whatever…that I was gay when I was standing in the little room just off the altar at St. Alfonso Catholic Church in Summitville, PA at approximately 12:30 P.M. on a hot and humid July afternoon. I was wearing a white tuxedo jacket, white shirt, black tie and cummerbund, and black tuxedo slacks. My black patent leather shoes were buffed to a high gloss. My dark brown hair had just been cut and not a single strand was out of place. I could hear the soft talking and laughter of those who had assembled in the church as they waited for the proceedings to begin. A string quartet played Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” so gorgeously it brought tears to my eyes. 
I was thirty years old and about to be married for the first time. 
To a woman. 
The ceremony was due to begin in twenty minutes. 
That’s the moment I realized, accepted, knew for sure, that I was gay. I’d like to say it came to me in a flashing moment of clarity, like some blinding white light. Or that I fainted straight away, hitting the marble floor with a thud. Or that a chorus of angels came down from on high to reveal to me this alarming news in celestial tones. 
But all I did was say softly to myself, “Oh shit. I can’t do this. I’m gay.” 
My best man, Doug Taylor, primped in the mirror. He had no reason to primp. His reddish blond hair, freckles, and blue eyes were already the lustful design of every female in the wedding party. His body, buff, tight, and ripped, filled out his tux better than I could ever hope to fill out my own. 
Doug helped me realize the truth because at that moment—as God, literally, as my witness—I discovered I’d rather be marrying Doug than my bride, Alice, who was, I’m certain, waiting anxiously with her father at the rear of the church. Poor Alice’s anxiety was nothing compared to what it could have been had she known what was going through her groom’s head at this very moment. 
Doug turned to me. “Did you say something?” He smiled and I have to tell you, Doug has one of those smiles that light up a room. I also have to tell you that it wasn’t quite true what I said about Doug—I really didn’t want to marry him, but I would prefer that the wedding night be spent in his arms. 
Should I make Doug—my old college roommate at Ohio State University and beer-drinking buddy—the first recipient of my revelation? 
I didn’t think about it. I knew that, in moments, the anxiety would rise up, the adrenalin would kick in and I would be a mess—a trembling, heart-palpitating, sweating buckets mess. In moments, thoughts like how I was about to hurt Alice, disappoint my parents, stun the wedding guests, and perhaps ruin my life as I knew it would be taking turns tormenting my mind. 
But, as I said, I didn’t think about it. Instead, my mouth worked independently of my brain as I said to Doug, “Yeah. Yes, I said something.” I cleared my throat, and looked around the cramped little room, at how the sun’s beams shone in through the stained glass window of Jesus opening His robe to reveal His heart. 
I shrugged, and like a lemming poised at a cliff with a thousand of my lemming buddies waiting impatiently behind me, I jumped. “I said I can’t go through with this...”
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Amber Quill Press