Lex Chase's Blog, page 6
September 13, 2016
Skye Allen with The Songbird Thief
The Songbird Thief by Skye Allen
Where’s the harm in a little petty theft now and then? Fifteen-year-old Lee is about to find out. Lee has a gift—the ability to use her songs to enchant prospective victims, making them easy to rob—but it isn’t without a price. The source of this mysterious ability is revealed when Lee comes to San Francisco, fleeing her stepfather’s abuse: she is half fey. That’s a problem for Lee’s friend and secret crush, Sonja, since Sonja thinks entanglements with the fey only lead to trouble. As her adventure takes her deeper into the Faerie Realm, Lee discovers her power has the potential for more than fun and profit. Some would use it for evil, and only Lee can decide if there’s good to be found in her songs.
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Excerpt:
I know Sonja will be late even before the tired woman behind the counter yells my name to give me the message. My name is an all-access pass— Lee—but she still manages to make it into two syllables. I jolt out of my exhausted trance when I finally realize I’m the Lee she’s yelling for. I’m pretty sure I’m the last girl in California not to have a cell phone. It’s after one o’clock in the morning. I’m at the 24-Hour Chinese Food and Donuts on Harrison Avenue and Second Street. Transient central for San Francisco. I probably look like a homeless person, but I’m technically only between addresses for a few hours. I kick my duffel farther under the table and make my way up to the counter, watching my bag the whole time, and wait for the inevitable announcement—“Your friend is on her way.”
I sit back down and hug my wilted cup of coffee to my face. The strength of it surprises me, dark and oily. A man in a tight green dress flashes an incomplete set of teeth at me from the counter and holds up his own cup. He looks harmless, but he could get chatty. Social rejects get chatty late at night. Sure enough, he starts up in a groggy voice, “You sure are tall, honey. What are you, six feet?”
He’s off by two inches, but I don’t want to talk about my height. I touch my index finger to the rim of my cup and draw a line across the yellow Formica in front of me. It works better with actual spit, but I just got off a Greyhound bus. I don’t want to lick my fingers.
“Are you part black or Indian? I don’t mean anything by that. I’ve dated many gorgeous brown men. And with that cute short haircut, you could just about pass for one of them.” My new white friend chuckles.
I don’t know the answer to his question. I stare at the line I drew and wait for it to work. I don’t have a lot of magic, and whatever I do have is most likely evil, if I can believe Da. I discovered the spit trick by accident, and it doesn’t work for much, just redirects people’s attention when I don’t want it. That and the music thing. Maybe one or two other minor skills. That’s all I have.
I don’t know what else I’d have in the way of magic if it weren’t for Da. His house, his rules. He’s my stepfather, or he would be if he’d married my mother. We have no legal or blood relationship, not that it matters. I know kids whose real dads beat them up. Being related doesn’t do them any good.
But I’m still going to look for my real father. That’s why I’m here.
Skye Allen is the author of a young adult LGBTQ+ urban fantasy novel, Pretty Peg. Her short fiction has appeared in Toasted Cheese Literary Journal and Of Dragons and Magic and her poetry in Insomnia and Sinister Wisdom. She is also a musician and occasionally performs around the San Francisco Bay Area, where she lives with her wife, their cat and a flock of chickens. The Songbird Thief is her second novel.
August 22, 2016
New Stops on the Urban Fairy Tale Blog Tour!
Hello, Internet! I’ve got some amazing new stops for you on the Urban Fairy Tale tour! So let’s catch up!
First and foremost, in case you missed it, I was on Jeff and Will’s Big Gay Fiction Podcast chatting about GayRomLit and my love of insane TV shows. Of course, I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself….but. Let’s just say I talk with my hands. A lot. Just call me Bryan Fuller. Hah, I wish!
To recap, I was over at The Novel Approach and doodled up some exclusive artwork and where I recapped just how the fuck did I come up with this wacky series.
After that, I dropped by the Dreamspinner Press Blog with my Grandma’s very own recipe for Applesauce Cake! Guaranteed to stop Atticus Hatfield aka Snow White dead in his tracks. (SeewhutIdidthar?)
And then I dropped by Joyfully Jay talking about the origins of heroes and villains, and good and evil is all relative. Even the villains are the heroes of their own stories.
Following Jay, Charlie Cochet had me over at the Purple Rose Tea House where I chatted about a new face to the Fairy Tales of the Open Road universe, Cinderella herself and the concept of her ability to control time. As well as her passion for Pumpkin Chunkin’.
And today I’m over at Sinfully Gay Romance Book Reviews reading from Urban Fairy Tale! Fun! Excitement! My crazy hair!
And saving the best for last! I got my very first YouTube review from Christina’s Bookshelf! I’m totally flailing over here. It’s adorable, and I have so many feelings.
So when I feel down about myself? I need to remember Christina loved my book enough to make a YouTube review!
The Screw-Up Princess and Skillful Huntsman: Book ThreeA Fairy Tales of the Open Road Novel
About
Modern day fairy-tale princess, Taylor Hatfield, has problems. One, he’s a guy. Two, he’s an insomniac Sleeping Beauty. Three, his practically perfect brother, Atticus Hatfield, this generation’s Snow White, has been irrevocably corrupted by the Witchking. The Library, a clandestine organization, seeks to write “The End” on Atticus, and Taylor faces the impossible when his own parents endorse his brother’s demise. With his true love, the huntsman Corentin Devereaux at his side, they once again set out to find Atticus, but Atticus won’t go down without a fight.
The quest ends how it began. But instead of the quirky, corkscrewing Americana road trip, Taylor and Corentin must contend with the dangers of the urban jungle. With an unexpected ally at their side, they’re forced to question all they knew about the legacy of Snow White.
As the world of the Enchants and the mundane hang in the balance, Taylor knows what he must do…. Go pick an apple.
Book Info
Genre: Fractured Fairy Tale / Urban Fantasy
Length: Novel
Published: August 19, 2016 by Dreamspinner Press
ISBN: 9781634771573
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You say, but Lex! I don’t have an e-Reader! And I say, there’s an app for that!
Download a free app from Kindle, Nook, iBooks, or Kobo and you, yes, you, can read e-Books on your smartphone, computer, or tablet. (You know. That thing you play Candy Crush on.)
Apps are available for PC | Everything Apple Ever Created | Android | Blackberry, and Windows smartphones. Just visit your device’s app store or click on any of these handy dandy links.
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August 17, 2016
Origins of a Fairy Tale at The Novel Approach!
Hello, Internet! The Urban Fairy Tale blog tour is now underway kicking off at The Novel Approach! Join me as I talk about just where did this idea for a cracked out fractured fairy tale come from? Also check out some exclusive artwork by yours truly!
August 14, 2016
Viva La France! Lex Chase Translations!
Hello, Internet! Well, do I have news! In yet another hum-drum night in my writing cave, I got the notice that the entirety of Checkmate as well as the Screw-up Princess and Skillful Huntsman Trilogy are being translated into French with Reines-Beaux Press!
That includes:
Cashing the Reality Check
Conventional Love
Miracle in Axis City
What the Water Gave Me
Americana Fairy Tale
Bayou Fairy Tale
Urban Fairy Tale
I’m pretty freaking pumped! Pawn Takes Rook has already been translated into French with Reines-Beaux, and it’s exciting to see the others. Americana will be interesting since the book is well…so… American. Like if you want a red, white, and blue ‘MURICA book there you go. I’m not sure how it translates for a French audience.
Surprisingly, my books do well overseas which excites me to no end! I get to say “I’m big in Europe.” without sounding douchey and it actually being true!
So to all my overseas readers? You’re amazing, and enjoy! ♥♥♥♥♥
August 8, 2016
After all this time #ItsStillBeautiful
Hello, Internet! This week is a special time for Fannibals as we celebrate #ItsStillBeautiful! Organized by Hannibal Cre-ATE-ive on Tumblr, fans are joining with fanart, fanfic, and other fan works commemorating the series finale of Bryan Fuller’s brilliant series Hannibal. Fuller’s spin on the Hannibal Lecter mythos introduced a complex gay love story with two men seeing each other for what they are and embracing their “compatible perversities” according to The Vulture.
In a slew of television and film where gay characters are often side plots with tragic ends, Hannibal was a breath of fresh air. In its own way, it was a show about love without being a show about love. It was a show that the sexuality was overt, yet Hannibal and Will weren’t defined by it. Their relationship was toxic, unhealthy, yet only worked for them. (Also people looked damned delicious. Just sayin.)
I’m blessed to be an author with Dreamspinner Press. A gay romance publisher who pushes boundaries but the men in these books are front and center, and with heart and determination, earn their happily ever after. And with television still far behind the times, we need more shows like Hannibal which proved to the world what television could be in all its beautiful violence and savage elegance.
So, my contribution to #ItsStillBeautiful is me dusting off my skills and proving I still draw stuff on occasion. Murder Husbands who slay together, stay together.
Even if they can never escape each other.
“We’re Conjoined…” by Lex Chase
Photo courtesy of Madison Parker Photography.
Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” Now, she’s on a mission to make the world a hell of a lot more interesting.
Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. Her pride is in telling stories of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. If you’re going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love.
Lex is a pop culture diva, her DVR is constantly backlogged, she has intense emotions about Hannibal’s Hannigram, and unapologetically loved the ending of Lost. She wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind.
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August 1, 2016
Author of the Month at Divine Magazine!
Hello, Internet! Today I’m over at Divine Magazine as Author of the Month!
Want to know more about my writing process? (Omg! Longhand? Seriously!) Or what makes me tick? Do I really want to start a cult?
June 20, 2016
Author Highlight at A.O. Chika Books!
Hello, Internet! Join me today as A.O. Chika was kind enough to host me at her blog! I’m dishing about my short story Bye-Bye Birdie featured in the Dreamspinner Press June Daily Dose Anthology A Walk on the Wild Side!
As we all know, I’m no stranger to writing shifters. But what happens when I get the chance to poke fun at myself with my own shifter mythology? Check it out!
May 20, 2016
Featured Tea of the Day on Adagio Teas!
Hey Internet! Like tea? Like Fairy Tales of the Open Road? Adagio Teas has the Fairy Tales of the Open Road fandom tea at 20% off today! Created by the lovely DC, she lovingly evokes the charm and comfort of the Screw-Up Princess and Skillful Huntsman through her wonderful flavor combinations. A portion of all sales will go to the Los Angeles LGBT Center!
[Flash Fiction Friday] Antonia Aquilante Returns!
Hello Internet! Welcome back Antonia Aquilante as she presents her newest flash fic. Now this one? Damn. It’ll get you going for sure! Meet Ailill, a man satisfied with his destiny who has one final message for his bereaved best friend.
Untitled by Antonia Aquilante
Every century for as long as records were kept, and probably quite a bit longer than that, the ritual was performed. The magic of it sustained their land, protected it and them. But the person who performed the ritual had never survived it.
Ailill found himself content, proud even, to be chosen. His best friend was less sanguine about Ailill’s impending task, and his impending death.
“I don’t understand you! I don’t understand how you can be so calm.” Lorcan paced the secluded corner of the College’s walled garden, hands alternately waving and pulling at his thick red hair. The sun blazed off it, fiery like Lorcan’s temperament. “Why are you just sitting there?”
“What should I be doing instead?”
Lorcan stopped in front of Ailill. His mouth worked for a moment, but no sound came out. And then a rush of words. “You should be angry. You should be fighting or running or something. You shouldn’t just accept that in a few days you’re going to die.”
Overwhelming, almost heartbreaking affection for Lorcan welled up inside him as Lorcan whirled away in a swirl of green robes to begin pacing again. They were born within hours of each other and had been inseparable practically since then. Together through childhood and schooling at the College once their aptitude for magic was discovered. Together for every big and small moment, through joys and sorrows. They’d been each other’s first kiss. He knew Lorcan had hoped, perhaps, for more than that at one time, but romantic love was never to be between them. He’d always thought of Lorcan as a part of him, his other half.
His far more emotional half.
“Why are you smiling like that? What could you possibly have to smile about right now?” Lorcan asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“You.”
“Me?” Lorcan sputtered. “What I’m feeling? I’m funny?”
“You’re my best friend, and I know you. That’s why I’m smiling.”
“I just–I don’t understand you right now.” Bafflement clouded Lorcan’s eyes, but it couldn’t overshadow the anger, the grief. The fear. “I can’t understand how you can sit there calmly and tell me you’re going to die, and not do anything to stop it.”
“There’s nothing to do.” He grabbed Lorcan’s hand from where he waved it in the air. “We always knew this was a possibility.”
They’d known the time would fall during their lifetimes. It was taught as part of their history, something children learned, and when he and Lorcan were found to have magical aptitude, they’d learned more. The College allowed them to explore and hone their skills, to discover the aspect of magic they were most skilled with, and then taught them how to use it. The College always educated, but in the time leading up to when a ritual would be performed, it served another purpose as well: it prepared them all for the ritual. The College taught them more of its importance than the rest of the population ever knew, because whoever performed the ritual had to have power. The one performing the ritual was chosen from the College.
Lorcan drooped before his eyes. “I know, but…it didn’t seem real until now. I never thought one of us would be chosen.”
“I know.” He wasn’t sure he could say the same; it felt as if some part of him had known, or at least known there was a good chance he would be chosen. How that was possible, he didn’t know, but it didn’t much matter at the moment. He tugged on Lorcan’s hand, pulling him down beside Ailill and into his arms, and held him tight.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Lorcan whispered into Ailill’s shoulder. Ailill could feel Lorcan’s tears, hot on his neck.
“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, but it’s all right.”
Lorcan ripped himself from Ailill’s arms. “It’s not all right! It’s not going to be all right ever again.”
“It will be. You will be. I’m happy it’s me and not you.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because this is for me to do. I think it’s always been for me.” He was happy it was him and not Lorcan, but then he doubted it would ever have been Lorcan. Now that he’d been chosen, he somehow knew Lorcan was too emotional, too volatile to ever be the one. “I’m content with that. I have no regrets. I’ve had the best friend a person could ask for. I’ve loved Finella. I’ve learned and lived, and now I’ll do this. I’ll keep you and everyone safe by doing this.”
“And what about me?” The question was barely a whisper.
“You’re going to live.” Ailill only wanted Lorcan happy, if he had one wish for what he was leaving behind.
“How can I do that without you?” Lorcan’s voice broke on the question.
“I’ll always be with you. Always in your heart. We’re part of each other, remember? You have great things ahead for you, I know it. And love too.”
Lorcan shook his head.
“Yes.” Ailill took hold of Lorcan’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “I want love and happiness for you. We weren’t meant to be together that way. But there’s someone for you. I think you even know who it is.” He let his lips curve into a knowing grin. Perhaps he did have one regret; he’d like to see Lorcan stumbling his way into admitting his feelings.
But Lorcan would live and he’d love, and that was the important part.
***
Lorcan strode through the halls as fast as he could. He’d left Ailill at the entrance to the garden with a tight hug and a kiss when someone had come for his friend. It might be the last time he saw Ailill, and that didn’t bear thinking about.
The tears he’d tried–mostly unsuccessfully–to hide from Ailill began to leak from his eyes as he ran. The yawning emptiness of loss opened up within him, and Ailill wasn’t even gone yet. Only he was, because Lorcan wouldn’t see him ever again.
Lorcan couldn’t be here anymore.
By the time he reached the doors, he was running, heedless of whoever might be watching. His tears came hot and fast, and he stumbled down the lane to the gates. He had to get away; he didn’t know where he’d go–he always went to Ailill. A small sob escaped at the thought.
“Lorcan.”
His name brought him to a halt, and he blinked back tears to see Dallan standing in the lane. Tall and strong and looking so worried for him. Lorcan stared at him. Dallan shifted from foot to foot, then stood straight.
“I heard, and I thought you might need someone after you spoke with Ailill. I thought you might not want to be alone right now.”
He couldn’t find words for a moment, didn’t know what to say. Ailill’s words echoed in his head, wanting him to live and love and be happy. He wasn’t sure he could manage happy for a while, but now that Dallan stood in front of him, he knew immediately where he wanted to go.
“Lorcan?”
Dallan sounded uncertain, but Lorcan had no words to reassure him. He just walked forward until he was right up against Dallan and buried his face in his chest, wrapping his arm’s around Dallan’s waist. A heartbeat later Dallan’s arms came up around him and held tight. Lorcan let out a shuddering breath and leaned into him.
Nothing was all right, but someday it would be.
Bio:
Antonia Aquilante has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and at the age of twelve, decided she would be a writer when she grew up. After many years and a few career detours, she has returned to that original plan. Her stories have changed over the years, but one thing has remained consistent – they all end in happily ever after.
She has a fondness for travel (and a long list of places she wants to visit and revisit), taking photos, family history, fabulous shoes, baking treats which she shares with friends and family, and of course reading. She usually has at least two books started at once and never goes anywhere without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to ebooks, she still loves paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them residing in her home with her.
Born and raised in New Jersey, she is living there again after years in Washington, DC, and North Carolina for school and work. She enjoys being back in the Garden State but admits to being tempted every so often to run away from home and live in Italy.
She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the New Jersey Romance Writers, and the Rainbow Romance Writers.
April 28, 2016
[Flash Fiction Friday] M.D. Grimm with Anachronistic Eggs
Hello, Internet! Welcome to Flash Fiction Friday! Today, M.D. Grimm drops by with Anachronistic Eggs. Roddy makes a peculiar discovery in the cornfield. What could be in the eggs? And what would his husband say?
Anachronistic Eggs
by M.D. Grimm
Roderick—known to his friends as Roddy—scratched his head, puzzled at what suddenly appeared in his cornfield overnight. He hadn’t heard or seen anything last night, but this morning a surprise awaited him nonetheless. It wasn’t a crop circle, which he could have accepted. No, the objects sitting in a perfect circle of charred earth were the last things he ever thought to see, and he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Eggs. The objects were eggs. There were three of them and they leaned against each other in a tight cluster. But they weren’t like any eggs he had ever seen. They were bigger than ostrich eggs and their colors were… disconcerting. They shimmered blue and gold and silver, each egg having a different pattern or dominant color.
How long he stood there, he didn’t know, but finally Roddy gathered his wits and knelt beside the eggs. He reached out cautiously and lightly touched one with his fingers. The surface was rough and pitted, but warm, as if a heater sat inside. They were all like that. He didn’t feel any odd sensation after touching them, so he hoped they weren’t radioactive or deadly in any other way. Swallowing hard, Roddy carefully picked one up, surprised at how light it actually was. Given the size, he expected them to have the weight and density of a rock.
It took some time but he finally managed to carry all three back to his farmhouse. He sat them on the kitchen table. It was a good thing his partner and spouse, Luke, wouldn’t be back from his business trip until next week. Roddy needed time to wrap his own mind around the eggs’ sudden appearance, and Luke wasn’t one for flights of fancy. He was a stick in the mud but Roddy appreciated his practical nature, especially since Roddy often lost himself in his own head at times. In fact, Roddy had a sneaking suspicion of what the eggs might be, but it was out of the realm of reality and into the high fantasy.
Roddy touched the eggs again and became distressed when he realized they were cooling down, becoming cold. He didn’t know why, but he knew they couldn’t get cold. It was essential they stay warm. Roddy quickly stoked the fire in the fireplace and without a second’s thought, he placed the eggs right into the flames. The colors shimmered and danced, memorizing him. Then one of the eggs moved. Ever so slightly, the egg nearest him trembled and jerked once, then fell still. Roddy got the impression that the egg seemed it be settling more comfortably in the fire, like one does after stepping into a hot tub—there’s a moment of discomfort, then a soothing slide.
He wanted to spend more time with the eggs, oddly reluctant to leave them. But he had a business to run and his workers would be here any minute. He made sure the fire was built strong before leaving them, knowing he would check on them within the hour.
It was the day of Luke’s return home and Roddy didn’t know what he was going to tell his spouse. The eggs had stayed in the fireplace all week, and lately they had all begun to move and tremble, as if whatever was inside was trying to find a way out. Roddy wondered why he wasn’t scared. He was more excited and anticipatory than anything. What if it was an alien lifeform come to subjugate or devour the Earth? Even that thought never swayed him from his mission. He knew he’d become obsessed and he couldn’t care less.
Wouldn’t Luke be surprised? Roddy winced. Luke would be pissed off and might call the authorities. What was he going to do?
Roddy stood up from the fireplace when he heard Luke’s car pull into the driveway. Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the shaking eggs—that were clearly about to hatch—and went out to greet his spouse. But even as he reached the door, Luke opened it and smiled.
“Thank God I’m home. Don’t ever let me do that again.”
Roddy grinned. “Please. You love it. You know you do.”
“I—”
An explosive crack behind Roddy had both men jumping. Roddy spun around and gasped.
All three eggs shattered, the pieces flying everywhere. Luke and Roddy had to duck to avoid the shrapnel. Roddy’s gaze never wavered from the fireplace as his own suspicions were confirmed.
The creatures stumbled out of the fireplace, spreading ash and embers along the living room carpet. They bumped into each other, unable to walk straight, and their cries were almost like those of lambs. Big iridescent eyes shimmered, half blind, trying to focus on their surroundings. Each had its own color—blue, gold, and silver. Leathery wings were still curled tightly along their backs, indicating they still had some developing to do. But their black claws, sharp teeth, and wicked tails were present and currently causing a mess in the room.
Even as Luke fainted, crumbling to the floor, Roddy knelt down and called to them. He’d spoken to them all week long and it seemed to have paid off. As one they came, eagerly and with happy gaits, almost like prances. They regarded him as their mother and he realized he loved them immensely, as if they were his own blood.
Roddy rubbed them all, recieving happy coos and croaks for his efforts. They licked him and cuddled close, but soon began to whine for food.
“Shit,” he said. “How am I going to feed you? I suspect you three could each eat a cow.”
They cooed in response, gazing at him with loving and trusting eyes.
Roddy sighed. “How the hell am I going to raise three dragons in the 21st Century?”
