Renae Kaye's Blog, page 18

What am I working on?

I have a theory – which you shouldn’t take too seriously, because what would I know?  But my theory so far stacks up.  The evidence is not conclusive, but it is an interesting conversation point.

What is the difference between an author and a wanna-be-author?  Talent?   Ideas?   Luck?

No – my theory is tenacity.  An author sticks at it.  An author is simply someone who managed to finish the job of writing a manuscript.

You can all argue with me about this – and I look forward to the debate – but at this moment, I stick by my statement.

Which means, at this moment, I’m firmly in the wanna-be-author camp.

I have lots on the go, but nothing finished.  There are two more releases of mine to come – Safe in His Arms which is about 6 weeks away from publication (watch this space for the cover reveal next week) and then another story called Shawn’s Law which will be coming in early 2015, but I’m still working on other stuff.


OMG - Cover hint for my new book!!  Cover reveal coming next week....


My problem has been too many ideas – and that has come from the readers. 

By far, the most-asked about book has been Loving Jay – will there be a sequel?  My answer, at the moment: no.  BUT I do have the beginnings of a book where Jay and Liam feature heavily.  It takes place about nine months after the end of Loving Jay.  It’s the story of Jay’s friend – Kee.  He’s had some relationship troubles, and has been out of the dating scene for a while, so hasn’t met Liam yet.  It turns out that Kee and Liam get along really well.  Therefore the readers will get look at how Liam and Jay are travelling in life.  Will Jay and his dressing room fit into Liam’s apartment?  How is Liam finding life as a “gay man”?  You will also get to find out why Jay is sulking in the bathroom.  I’ll give you a hint – Liam is denying him something extremely… ahh… pleasurable because he’s been a bad boy…

The second most asked about book has been The Blinding Light.  I was leaving this story alone, until someone said to me:  What’s Davo’s story?  The ideas flooded into my brain and I have about a third of this book finished.  Davo’s story starts when Maxine is three weeks old.  Davo is not really into the girly stuff – you know, like babies and domestic partnerships and clothes and dancing and anything pink and everything else that may get you labelled as one of those gays.  So when he sees Jake embracing family life, it scares the shit out of him.  Then Davo meets Lee.  **cue the romantic music and the white doves**

In 6 weeks, you'll get to meet Lon and Casey, my next couple.  I’m sure that when this book is finished, you will be asking me about their friends.  So, I’m busily writing more on their stories.  (So don't ask - because the answer is YES!)

Therefore you can see I’ve got a lot on my plate – and now the test comes.  Will I be able to knuckle down, finish these novels, and get them out to you?

Feel free to bug me about them every couple of weeks to make sure I’m doing my work.

News news news - and a poll

Okay people... I couldn't hold it in any longer!

I've been sitting on the news and if I don't tell you, then I'm gonna burst (and that could get messy).

Who likes audio books???

 If you answered yes, then you're in for a treat.  Both Loving Jay and The Blinding Light are going to be recorded.  I'm so excited, I'm doing happy dances in the car park! (Not a good look, people.  Shield the eyes of your young ones.)

So tell me?  Do you think the narrator of the book should be an Australian?

The other great news is this - Loving Jay is heading to translation territory.  That is going to be MASSES of fun!

The amount of times that Jay screeches "Oh my gawd!" in that book?  The Italians will be sick of their "Dio Mio!"

Always laugh, people.  xx, Renae.

Guest Interview - Suki Fleet and her new story

Hi Suki!

Thanks for joining me on my blog today to talk about your new novella Skeleton which is released on the 1st of October.

Blurb
Jan has given up on love, at least the romantic kind. He loves his five-year-old son Henry more than anything. 

But when Henry starts school, Jan is introduced to Matthew, a very sweet but shy young man who helps out in Henry’s class. Although he tries desperately to ignore his attraction, Jan finds himself falling for Matthew—he's everything Jan needs. 

But amid creepy silent phone calls and possible break-ins, things start to fall slowly apart for Jan. Matthew wants to trust Jan, but the skeleton Jan has been trying to keep buried in his closet and the guilt he feels threatens to destroy everything good in his life.
Skeleton sounds like a real suspenseful novel.  Tell us, how long was the story idea brewing before you got it down on paper?

About two weeks. I didn’t plan the suspense aspect—that just happened. Though I admit it does just happen quite a lot in my writing :P 

I like writing suspense mainly because I like reading it. I like not knowing what’s going to happen in a story. It keeps me turning the pages.

Do you plan your stories, chapter by chapter? Or just write as they come?

Skeleton just came in one. I had no real idea where it was going when I started writing only that Jan was going to fall in love with someone who helped out at his son’s school. The rest just fell into place. Normally it doesn’t fall into place quite so easily, so Skeleton is quite unusual for me in that respect.

This is Not a Love Story was not planned either but I knew where it was going from the start (I had the ending and those boys just had to reach it somehow).

I have planned stories in the past but I take care not to plan too much as it tends to kill my inspiration. At the moment I am writing Julian’s story (from This is Not a Love Story) and he is pretty down with this planning lark, so we’ll see how that goes.  How do you pick names for your characters?

Ah, now for the long explanation about what inspired me to write this story in the first place ;P 

Jan’s name is the Dutch form of John and pronounced “Yan.” We camp in the south of France some summers on a tiny campsite that is mostly populated by Dutch or French campers. Jan was the name of one of our neighbours (a young man of about 20). As soon as I heard him telling a bunch of French kids (in English as it’s the common language) about his name and I knew I was going to write a story. (I do find it strange he’ll never know he inspired this story.)

Mostly I’m either struck over the head with character names like that or I struggle with them. Romeo/Remee, Julian, Crash and Pasha from This is Not a Love Story all kind of hit me over the head with their names too.  This is Not a Love Story was brilliant.  It kept me going and going.  It was dark and angsty – not at all like what I write!  Now, this story Skeleton sounds deep and mysterious.  Do you think this is your favoured writing style, or just a coincidence?

Thanks dude :) 

I like dark and angsty, and deep and mysterious, but actually Skeleton isn’t particularly any those apart from mysterious. Perhaps the title is misleading? :P  There is quite a lot of sweetness in this one but Jan does have a skeleton he’s trying to forget and bury his guilt about. There is definitely a suspenseful theme going on in there, but mostly it’s pretty angst free (though this of course my angst scale which might be slightly skewed :P).

Do you have another book coming?

Wild Summer is my next release on the 23rd October 2014 from Harmony Ink/Dreamspinner. It’s a stand alone spin off about Crash one of the characters from This is Not a Love Story. You don’t have to have read This is Not a Love Story for it to make sense and it, again, is not quite so dark and angsty, mainly because Crash is not a particularly angsty character. Also, Wild Summer has one of my favourite covers so far J

Pick a favourite paragraph or quote from Skeleton to tease us with.

Beyond the distant trees, the sun is sinking, leaving fire-shot ribbons of blue, clouds like the tail ends of meteors.

Jan opens the gate and stops in front of the front door, pulling Matthew with him under the shelter of the overhanging roof.

“I want to know everything about you,” Jan admits, bringing his hand up to gently brush away the raindrops from Matthew’s cheek, while trying desperately to hold his gaze.

There is a fire in his veins, burning through the tips of his fingers, and he wonders if Matthew can feel it. He wonders if that’s why Matthew’s breathing changes, if he needs his inhaler.

Reluctantly breaking the contact, Jan pulls out his keys to open the front door.

It occurs to him that this is the first time he has ever brought home anyone he wants to sleep with this badly. For Henry’s sake, he always told himself he needed to keep this part of his life separate. But now, looking at Matthew half-drowned, shivering, and otherworldly in the most beautiful way, Jan thinks maybe he just hadn’t found the right person to bring home before.

 

Thanks for joining us today, Suki.  Before we go, where can we buy your book, and where can we send our deluge of fan mail to?

Buy Links:

Dreamspinner Press
Amazon.com
All Romance eBooks

Suki Fleet Wordpress:  http://sukifleet.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/suki.fleet.3

Email: randomlikejazz@gmail.com

The Table Scene

The Shearing Gun was successfully launched last week, and I can tell you, I’m getting better at this new release business.  Instead of rating 55 out of 10 on the hyper-o-meter like I was when Loving Jay was released, this time I sailed in at a smooth 9/10 rating.

I was excited and I knew what to expect this time:  an initial lull as readers made their way through the story, then reaction.  The nail-biting began as I waited for the reactions:

      “Holy fuck this is a great book!”

      “Oh my gosh Renae Kaye, The Shearing Gun is freaking awesome!”

      “Get out and buy The Shearing Gun by @renaekkaye from @dreamspinners It's bloody 
      brilliant.”

      “Just finished The Shearing Gun loved it so much. Hank and Quackle are adorable. I loved 
      visiting their world & felt like I had a real insight into Sheep Shearing.”

I finally relaxed a tad – people were embracing it with open arms.  I was a little doubtful the “shearing & sheep” bit was going to put people off, but you guys are seasoned pros. 

One thing that always surprises me as an author, are the scenes that stick in a reader’s mind.  Or the quotes.  I often write a line and then sit back, thinking, “Wow, that was a stroke of genius!”  Yet, when the book comes out, for one reason or another, that line is lost.

Conversely, the lines that were dashed out and never considered are the ones most laughed over.

As with The Shearing Gun.  It seems that the “table scene” has made an impression.  I really didn’t mean it to.  Not really. Truly.

For those who haven’t read my book (yet?), I’ll catch you up.  Hank is a farmer and shearer.  He’s deep in the closet.  The new doctor in town is Elliot (who Hank calls Quackle – Quack Ell, get it?), who has temporarily stepped back into the closet while he works out his contract in rural Western Australia.  A friendship starts up, followed by a slow burn of desire.

Hank fights it, every step of the way, until at last he cracks and gives in to the temptation that is Elliot.  After their first night together, it’s several days before Elliot can come out to meet Hank again.

The kettle was getting ready to boil and the mugs out when I jumped him.  I thought that was rather restrained of me.  After all, he had been at my house for a good thirty minutes and all I’d received was a wet kiss and a bit of a pelvic thrust.  Not nearly enough to satisfy three days of hunger.  It seemed that when it was a three hour drive to find sexual relief my libido was rather laid-back, but when it was a mere thirty minute drive, twenty if I sped, then my sexual hunger was all out of whack.

…

 “Do you want to christen my kitchen table, Quackle?  I think I would like to see you spread out on my table, so that every time I eat there I can think of you.”  He was groaning and writhing in my lap, sending sensations up my dick, but he managed to nod.  I stood up and steadied him on his feet.  I had a fantasy to fulfil and I hoped he’d cooperate.  “I need to get a couple of things out of the bedroom, but I’m going to be super quick.  Take your shoes off, Ell, but nothing else.  I’ll be back.”

Do you get the picture yet?

And afterward:

He winced a little and I was contrite.  “Shit, I did hurt you, didn’t I?”

He looked at me seriously.  “Hank?  Can you do me a favour, buddy?  Every time we have sex, I don’t want you having to ask me if you hurt me.  I’m a big boy now and I can tell you to stop if you are being too rough.  A bit of a twinge after going a round with you just means I have been well fucked.  I’m sure that one day we will get around to a slow and gentle fucking, but for now I am ecstatically over-the-moon about how you ravish me.  So stop worrying.  I haven’t broken a bone yet from sexual antics.”

Have I whetted your appetite yet?

Buy The Shearing Gun at Dreamspinner, Amazon or ARe.

Recap & milestones of my year

So this morning I woke up and something was niggling in my brain.  26th of September??

OMG!

Yes – finally it hit me (the coffee hadn’t reached my stomach at that stage).  It was my one year anniversary. One year ago I signed my first publishing contract!  Happy anniversary me!

Yes.  Exactly one year ago I was in a state of shock but excited and nervous all at the same time.  So here is a look back on my year and the milestones.

26th September 2013: Signed my first publishing contract (ever!) with Dreamspinner for Loving Jay.  Freak out!
27th September 2013:  Changed my FB status from “Trying Hard to be an Author” to “Soon To Be Published.” 


6th of October 2013:  Submitted The Blinding Light to Dreamspinner for consideration.  Rather bold of me.  Sign my first contract one week, send in another story the next week.


26th of November 2013:  Signed my second publishing contract for The Blinding Light.  In total shock.
28th December 2013:  Met my lovely, lovely editor, Liz Fitzgerald.  I have an editor now!  Sounds serious!


30th December 2013:  Submitted The Shearing Gun to Dreamspinner for consideration.


10th January 2014:  Finally received my ITIN (US tax file number).  The FBI now know that I exist.  Will the planet survive?


27th of January 2014:  Received my first drafts of the cover of Loving Jay.  Paul Richmond is a great guy!  Happy to work with me to get it right.  We’re serious now!  Covers???
18th February 2014:  Signed contract for The Shearing Gun.  Beyond shocked now.  We're flat lining.  The doctor can no longer find a heartbeat in Renae's chest.

8th March 2014:  Received the galley proof of Loving Jay.


March 2014:  Changed my FB status from “Soon To Be Published” to “Author at Dreamspinner.”  Hoping that it will not be changed to “Running and Hiding.”
March 2014:  Joined Goodreads as an Author.  All "real" authors do.

14th March 2014:  Received vellums in the post from Dreamspinner.  I’m to sign them so they can be pasted into the paperbacks of my books.  A “real” author’s signature?  Oh, my.

15th March 2014:  Submitted Safe in his Arms to Dreamspinner for consideration. 17th March 2014:  I create a website.  Inaugural blog soon follows.  All "real" authors must have a website, shouldn't they?

20th March 2014:  Loving Jay appears on the Coming Soon page of Dreamspinner. 

3rd April 2014:  Signed another contract.  This time for Safe in his Arms.   This is getting ridiculous now.  Me?  An author?  

10th April 2014:  Submitted my short story Bear Chasing to Dreamspinner for consideration in their anthology.

18th April 2014:  Good Friday.  Loving Jay is released.  OMG!  Freak out Friday!  Renae is unable to concentrate on anything.  She is zombie spin-out what-did-you-say please-repeat-that-for-the-fifth-time mode.


29th April 2014:  Receive my paperbacks from Dreamspinner.  Yay!  Spend the entire day “smelling” the books. 10th May 2014:  Signed the contract for the A Taste of Honey bear anthology.  Bear Chasing will be my first short story.

18th June 2014:  Submitted my story Shawn’s Law to Dreamspinner for consideration.  

7th July 2014:  Joined Twitter.  My inaugural tweet.  (@renaekkaye)  Now the world knows I exist.
14th July 2014:  The Blinding Light is released.
25th July 2014:  The Blinding Light hits #1 on Amazon.com.  


Un.Be.Lieve.Able. 26th July 2014:  Joined Café Risque as a weekly blogger.  There's no escaping me now!

13th August 2014:  Joined Instagram.  Just in case you are not sick of me yet.

17th August 2014:  Signed a contract for Shawn’s Law.  The world is going to change with this one.


18th August 2014:  My short story Bear Chasing was released in the Dreamspinner anthology A Taste of Honey.


18th August 2014:  Find out that Loving Jay is going audio!  Whoo-hoo.

19th September 2014:  The Shearing Gun is released.

26th September 2014:  Sit back and MARVEL at a year of changes!


Wow - how much growth have I come through and how many milestones could I have reached?  Any year after this is just going to be anticlimactic.

I wish to sincerely thank everyone who has helped me along the way:
    Dreamspinner Press
    Liz Fitzgerald - editor extraordinaire
    Paul Richmond, Maria Fanning & Bree Archer - cover artists rock
    Elizabeth, Rose, lyric, Polly, Petra, Ione, Sue, Anne, Hayley, Ariel, Andrew & all the others at DSP who help - my lifelines
    Nic Starr, Robyn Jones, Beany Sparks, Toni Griffin & Jack Byrne - Aussies who keep me sane
    Cardeno C. - for listening and helping
    BG Thomas - oh, man, we'll get to the hug in person one day
    All my friends on FB who laugh and cry with me, and give excellent advice.

BUT MOST OF ALL:  to the lovely reviewers and lovely readers who made this all possible.

But I hope to see you all still here in September 2015 - we've got at least two more stories to release in the next 12 months.  

Love them, no matter what

Here, on the release day of The Shearing Gun, instead of blogging about my newest release, I find compelled to blog about hopes and dreams for our children.
 
This morning, while clicking through links, I happened to stumble on a video tell me that “This lady kept a huge secret which she only revealed after the birth of her child.”

I was intrigued (good advertising people!), and clicked and watched.  The clip told me that the woman had just given birth to her fourth child.  She had three sons, and there were three other grandsons in her family.  She’d told everyone that she was having a boy, and then filmed their reactions at the hospital as it was revealed it was a girl.  The first girl born.

Her family were ecstatic.  There were happy tears flowing, shrieks of joy and overwhelming happiness on the gender of this child.

It was disappointing to me.

You see, because I’ve been through it.  I’ve lived it.  And what does it matter if your baby is a boy or a girl?  Shouldn’t you love the child no matter?  Be ecstatic no matter?

My father hoped that I was a boy.  I was the last child, and he was hoping for another son.  I’m sure he was disappointed that I wasn’t, but I feel he adapted well and I never felt l'd let him down.

But the greatest regret in my life was the hours after my firstborn’s birth.  My firstborn was the 19th grandchild born in my family.  Before the birth, the count overwhelmingly favoured the boys.  Only five girls and a whopping 13 boys!  My mother was desperately hoping for another girl to even the odds.
I don’t find out the gender of my children before they’re born.  I like it to be a big surprise during the birth.  I’m happy either way.  But I knew my mother wanted desperately for it to be a girl.  90 minutes after he was born, we were ready for that first phone call.  My family were amassed, waiting on the other end of that line.  I knew it.  I gathered my courage and dialled.  My mother answered, and I said, “It’s me.”

Then I had to swallow my emotions.  I was overwhelmed with pride and happiness.  I had a baby.  I had a boy!  I wanted to shout it to the world.  But at the same time I felt I had “failed.”  It wasn’t the girl my mother wanted.  The first words that wanted to come out of my mouth at that time were “I’m sorry.”  But with determination I pushed them back.  Because I wasn’t sorry.  I was proud!

I choked out.  “You have another little grandson.”

My mother burst into tears.  I know they were tears of happiness, because this had been a long stressful pregnancy for her, where she had been away and unable to support me.  She was glad that I was okay and that the baby was okay.  She had been worried, I know that.

But I also know in the tears, there was disappointment.

Five months later, my sister managed to do what I couldn’t – she gave birth to a girl amidst great fanfare and cheering.  I looked at my son and vowed to love him no matter what.

As a mother, I know about hopes and dreams we have for our children.  I have a friend with a son who has Down Syndrome.  While I was championing my child and proudly declaring that he could recited the alphabet song, she was clapping with joy that her son finally walked two steps by himself.  That really brings it home as to what we need to say to our kids.

I strongly believe that we shouldn’t feel or say, “I’m so glad you were a girl after three boys.”  Be proud to have a child.  Because if you pin your hopes and dreams on this one child, then you are bound to be disappointed.  Because they are not you.  They have their own life to lead.
In the same manner, I don’t agree when I hear parents say “I hope my kid’s not gay.”

Really?  I hadn’t given it much thought.  I hope my children grow up happy, find someone to love who makes their hearts burst with joy, and never know heartbreak.  I don’t care if it is gay or straight love.  I will admit I wish that whatever path they chose, it will be an easy path.  I don’t wish my child to be bullied, ostracised, marginalised or be on the end of any sort of sexist comments.

I guess when it comes down to it, what I hope for my children doesn’t have solid form.  It is an ideal – happiness, friends, satisfaction and the ability to care for others.  One of my favourite songs is a little known song called Prayers for You, written by Craig Bickhardt.  (http://www.craigbickhardt.com/).  This is the version of the song I know, sung by Karen O’Shea:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cuxwcYRPgfk.
These are my prayers
These are the things I wish for you
May you be strong
And happy whatever you do

May your heart travel light
On a long journey’s night
May a circle of friends keep you warm
May your mind be at ease
When you’re down on your knees
When your ship needs a port in the storm
May you find answers to
Each of my prayers for you

These things I ask
These are the gifts I cannot give
May love keep you
Young for as long as you live

May your dreams find a place
In the garden of grace
May they grow where you’ve planted the seed
May your faith be a flame
That won’t die in the rain
May you never want more than you need
May you find answers to
Each of my prayers for you

May your heart travel light
On a long journey’s night
May a circle of friends keep you warm
May your mind be at ease
When you’re down on your knees
When your ship needs a port in the storm
May you find answers to
Each of my prayers for you

These are my prayers
These are the things I wish for you
This song sums up my hopes for my children.  Notice there is no mention of gender, sexuality, jobs, looks, marriage, children, possessions, money, education or achievements. 



I guess what I want to say is this:  don’t love your children for what they are, just love them.


You wanted a girl and you got a boy?  Perhaps you should reflect on yourself a bit more.  Consider how your wishes make others feel.  I feel sorry for the six other grandsons mentioned in the video in my opening paragraph.  Will they feel they are not enough?  How will this girl feel?  Will she feel the weight of expectation on her to be girly and like pink?  What if she wants to like “boy things”?  Don’t feel bad if your child says they are gay.  Be happy that they have found that in themselves and that they are following the path they want to live.  Tell them that you love them.

The Shearing Gun - sneak excerpt

So today, between caring for my sick child and pouring endless cups of coffee for her Mummy, I suddenly realised that OMG - it's only 9 days until The Shearing Gun is released!  Only 9 more days to be nervous and only 9 more days to drive readers insane.  (*wink* - that's how authors get their jollies).  I promise to give another sneak preview before release day. (*wink* - see!  Author jollies again.)

The Shearing Gun can be purchased from Dreamspinner Press:  Link Here.

So without further ado, I would like to introduce you to Hank and Elliot.  Hank is my big, tough shearer who is so far in the closet, you need a smoke bomb and a ten-foot pole to yank him out.  Thankfully Elliot arrives on the scene to save him from being eternally alone.  

In this scene, Hank knows that Elliot's gay, but Elliot doesn't know that Hank's gay as well.  (Yeah - that closet is pretty big for ol' Hank.)  Paul, Hank's brother, knows that Hank's gay, but doesn't know that Elliot is. (Confused yet?)  Hank, the only person who does know all the gay people in the chapter, is busy keeping secrets from everyone.

Excerpt from The Shearing Gun:

I closed the gate, then pointed to the nearby dam. “Who’s up for a dip before lunch?” 

Paul frowned slightly in my direction, and Elliot looked surprised. “You swim in that?” he asked. 

“Hell, yes,” I replied. I was sweaty and I often took a dip before lunch. “I’ll even leave my pants on today just to stop your maidenly blushes.” 

Both my brother and Elliot looked discomforted. I laughed because I knew why, and neither could say anything. Elliot, I knew, fancied me and was probably looking forward to seeing me without my clothes. However, he couldn’t look his fill or show interest because my brother was there. 

Conversely, my brother thought that, since I was gay, I shouldn’t be undressing in front of any other bloke—straight or gay. He had this weird idea that I should actually cover myself up and not make myself “available.” But with Elliot within hearing range, he couldn’t tell me that. 

I left the two of them to make up their own mind and strolled toward the inviting water, taking off my sling as I went and unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t bother to look back, even as I heard the Rover start up and follow me down the hill. I sat on the edge of the dam, took off my boots and socks, and carefully looked for vicious thorns before I waded in—still in my pants as I’d promised. I struck out, making for the middle of the dam, before lying on my back and floating for a while. 

A nearby splash caught my attention, and I looked up in surprise. Elliot was wading in, still in his black jeans but without his shirt and sunnies. He was pale and lean, but my dick didn’t care if he was green and warty. Male flesh, naked and dead ahead, was all my nether regions cared about. I was infinitely alarmed. Usually I could temper my reactions to other men when I was around “work.” It was only in the darkness of nightclubs or the privacy of a house in the city that I let my dick do the thinking for me.

“Shit! It’s cold, Hank,” Elliot complained as he walked in. “Don’t you know it’s winter?” 

“Wuss,” I threw back at him, ducking down in the waist-deep water so my arousal couldn’t be seen. Elliot took a deep breath and plunged in, ducking under the water and coming up not too far from me. He surfaced with a flick of his hair and floated on his back next to me for a moment. “Good?” I asked. 

He didn’t bother opening his eyes against the midday sun. “Ask me again when I stop shivering.” 

“Oh, bullocks. It’s not that cold. You don’t even have goosebumps.” He sat up, still floating with his toes above water, but only his head sticking out. 

“You have goosebumps,” he pointed out. 

Yeah, but they’re not from the cold. 

“Put your eyes back in your head, Quackle,” I whispered low enough so my brother, sitting on the hood of my car, couldn’t hear. 

Elliot chuckled and swam around until his back was to Paul. His gazed flicked down, taking in the breadth of my shoulders and my nipples, tight with cold and arousal. He had a smirk on his face as he whispered back to me. “I’ll stop looking if you stop putting it on display. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” 

I don’t think I was doing a very good job of not smiling as I replied, “You can’t prove anything.” 

Paul chose that moment to bellow across the expanse, “Have you two pansies had enough yet? Can we go and get some grub before my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut?” 

I chose to ignore my older sibling and focused on Elliot. “So have you had enough yet, Quackle?” 

He gave a huge put-upon sigh. “Not nearly enough, but I guess we should go.” 

I bit my tongue and teased. “Can you control yourself enough to get out, or should I go and distract Paul for a bit?” 

He laughed and cupped a handful of water and threw it in my direction. I had to swallow hard. No fishing, Hank! 

“You know, Hank? You really shouldn’t tease a man who has easy access to Ketamine. One simple injection and you’re out to it. I could do all sorts of things then. I could make you sing soprano if I wanted to.” 

We were laughing madly as we sloshed out of the murky water. Paul was muttering to himself and had already decided he would drive back— he had impatiently taken his place behind the wheel of my Rover. My pants were soaked, so I tossed my dry clothes in the back and hitched a ride on the outside of the vehicle. Elliot followed suit, clambering up on the step behind me.

I’m pretty sure he checked out my arse the whole way home.

Five years ago - a look back in time

I once attended a parents group called MOPS.  One day, the twenty mothers present participated in an activity.  A sheet of card was taped to each person’s back, and we went around writing a couple of words on each other’s card: nice things about that person.

My card came back filled with the following descriptions: bubbly, hilarious, cheerful, always ready for a laugh, full of life, fun, honest, great smile.

Yes – it’s very true that I’m usually very optimistic about life.  When I’m nervous I take refuge in humour and jokes, and I don’t think the word “shy” has ever been used to describe me.  I’m upbeat and always try to see the bright side of the equation.  I love a good laugh and play the fool to get it.

It’s no shock to me then, that this wackiness comes through to my writing.  I want people to laugh.  I want people to smile.  I want people to feel good about themselves and the life around them.

My life hasn’t been a bed of roses, but I like to poke fun of the bad times, and turn them into good.

So as this post goes live, I’m recalling five year old memories. As I do at each birthday my children have, I remember their birth and all the feelings I had at that time.  I will look at the clock at 7am the morning of their birthday, and think about what I was doing x amount of years ago.
My daughter was born five years ago, at 9:30am on a Monday morning.  She came into the world after a difficult and prolonged labour.  I cannot stress to you how freakin’ looooong it was.  55 hours.  Yup.  I was in labour for more than two days before they finally delivered her.  During that time I only managed two two-hour naps.  So I was physically exhausted, emotionally exhausted and just wanting to sleep for days.

Instead I was handed a 4.2kg baby girl.  I was shocked!  I’d expected a boy and really couldn’t process the fact she didn’t have a penis.  Also – 4.2kg????  What the hell?  That’s 9lb 4oz in the old school measure.  How the hell had I grown something that big and pushed it out?

Her birth was a comedy of errors.  I swear that if it was made into a movie, no one would believe it.  I always tell the story in a humorous way – skipping over the “nearly died” bits and laughing at the others.  Here:  I’ll set the scene.  A small suburban maternity hospital.  Theatre room number one.  You could say that I was the star of the show, since I was the one in the middle of the room with all the lights trained on me.  The obstetrician had just started his shift and was called to take care of business.  Starting immediately after the birth of previously mentioned 4.2kg baby girl, I will describe what I saw:
                - Flashing red lights, furiously calling for the paediatrician
                - Two midwives working on my baby, while ignoring my calls about the gender of my newborn
                - One obstetrician looking intense, while working at my lower end
                - One junior obstetrician looking very stressed while pushing on my stomach
                - More flashing lights, calling for nurses
                - One father-of-the-child in a faint on the floor
                - One paediatrician (nearly hitting hubby's head) rushing in the door to the baby
                - Nurses streaming through the doors to help (hubby in the way)
                - One father-of-the-child being taken away in a wheelchair
                - More nurses, a quick head count, 15 people in the room
                - One midwife-in-training looking very pale while rethinking her future of midwifery

Poor Jessica.  I was the first birth she ever witnessed and it was a doozy!
Never fear, dear reader!  I’m still here to tell the story.  And I only lost a third of the blood in my body – and what’s a couple of pints between friends?  Around thirty minutes after they put me back together, a nice young man showed up and told me he needed to draw some blood from me for a test.  I was cuddling my child at the time and trying not to throw up the drinks they were giving me, so I wasn’t in the best frame of mind.  I looked at him and said, “Sorry.  I don’t have any spare.  If you need a test, there’s a couple of litres of the stuff on the floor for you.”

I tell this story, not to freak people out, but to remind them to laugh.  I could’ve dwelled on the bad stuff and been angry at the medical staff, but what would I achieve?  Nothing but depression and anger.  So I laugh at the funny bits.

I tell people that the birth of my first child was a planned caesarean, as he was feet first and couldn’t be born that way.  He was 3.5kgs, whereas my natural birth child was 4.2kgs.  Whoops!

I tell people that after my caesarean I was hooked up to three machines.  After my “natural” birth I was hooked up to seven.  Whoops!

I tell people I was in labour for so long, I forgot that it was Father’s Day and I never gave hubby his presents.  Whoops!

But most importantly I LAUGH. I tell people that the first impression of my newborn that I had, was that she looked too much like her father’s side of the family and I nearly demanded that they put her back. 

I tell people that my husband didn’t witness the birth of either of our children – he was too busy fainting both times. 

I tell people that I had a trainee midwife following my pregnancy.  At the birth she had the most important job – the camera.

I leave the depression for someone else.

So if you pick up one of books, please smile as you are reading.  You are not supposed to take the story seriously.  It is a sweet tale written to make you feel good, and cheer you up if you need it.  So I hope you enjoy my books and go away in a peaceful and happy frame of mind.

Don’t forget that Hank and Elliot’s story comes out in 13 days.


Pre-order from Dreamspinner.

Glossary - The Shearing Gun

As an Australian writer, there is nothing more frustrating than being picked up on my use of slang in my manuscripts.  My American editor is forever telling me that I can’t use a term, or I need to explain a term I’ve used in my stories.  The frustrating bit?  

I don’t even realise that I'm using slang!

When I told some Aussie friends and authors that I had written a rural Aussie romance, they were happily encouraging.  We are proud of our Aussie roots, and we like to show it.  But in writing a rural romance, there is the inevitability that slang is going to be used.

I floated the idea past my editor of using a glossary at the beginning of my story, and I believe she almost melted in thankfulness.  So I began to browse my story for words that would stump the non-Australians.  Sure there were some obvious ones: thongs, esky, smoko.  But there were some surprising ones that I had to enter too.

There was an outcry from my fellow Aussie authors.  They wanted a peek at my glossary.  So without further ado I present it to you.  Here are the terms you are going to need to know in order to read The Shearing Gun.
Anzac biscuits AFL – Australian Football League.  The country-wide league for teams playing Aussie Rules.
Anzac biscuit – a sweet biscuit made from oats and golden syrup, named for the Australian soldiers who fought in WWI in the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (Anzacs).
Blow or strike – when referring to shearing, a blow is a rounded, smooth movement of the shearer’s arm across the animal while removing the fleece.  A strike is a downward or upward movement.
Border Leicester – a breed of large sheep, grown especially for their meat.
Bottle-of-beer! – in the shearing shed, should the person sweeping the floor drop the broom, they are said to “owe” the shearers a bottle of beer.
Bull-bar – a large type of nudge bar, especially designed to protect the vehicle in the case of a frontal collision with large stock such as cows (and bulls).  See also: Roo-bar.
Bushie – a person who lives in the bush.  One who lives in the rural areas.  See also:  The Bush.
Caravan – a trailer home.
Chook – the Australian term for a chicken/hen.
Chook pen – chicken coop.
Classer – see: Wool classer.
Copper – a policeman.
Corriedale – a breed of sheep, good for both meat and wool.
Countryman  – a weekly newspaper publication for people in the farming communities. SAO biscuits Cuppa – a cup of tea or coffee.
Daks – pants.
Esky – a cooler box.
Footy – football, especially Aussie Rules.
Gas-bagging – slang for chatting, talking, gossiping.
Granny flat – a small apartment (usually single occupancy) built near to the main residence, but with independent access.  Mostly used for widowed, elderly parents.
Grub – slang for food.
Lubricate the arm – to have a few drinks at the beginning of the night, i.e. to loosen your drinking arm before getting seriously drunk.
Merino – a breed of sheep with extremely fine wool.
Missus – slang for wife.
Mongrel – usually refers to a dog of mixed breeding, can refer to a person as a derogatory term.
Mozzie – slang for mosquito.
Panadol – brand name of a common painkiller. Australian thongs Red turkey – slang for the ball used in a game of Aussie Rules.
Roo-bar – abbrev. from Kangaroo-Bar.  A large type of nudge bar, especially designed to protect the vehicle in the case of a high speed frontal collision with a kangaroo.  See also: Bull-bar.
Rousie – shortened term for roustabout, a farmer’s worker who helps with the livestock.
Pavlova – a dessert similar to meringue made with egg whites.  Historically fought over as to whether it is of Australian or New Zealand origin.
Potbelly – an indoor, wood-burning stove used for cooking.
SAO biscuit – a savory cracker.
Shearing gun – a super-fast shearer, capable of shearing a large quantity of sheep in a single day.
Singlet – tank top, undershirt.
Smoko – a short break, usually for morning tea or afternoon tea.  Slang for a smoking break.
Sunnies – sunglasses.
Taking the mickey – to mock or scoff.
The big smoke – the city, usually referring to the capital city of the state.
The Bush – slang for the rural areas.
Thongs – footwear, flip-flops.
Triple-zero – Emergency call number.  911 in US.  999 in UK.
Wether – a castrated, male sheep.
Wool classer – a person responsible for rating the quality of the fleece as it comes off the animal.
Woop-woop – a fictional town that is supposedly in the middle of nowhere.

Are you confused yet?  The Shearing Gun is now available for pre-order: (link to Dreamspinner here.)

Cover Reveal - The Shearing Gun

I'm so so so excited to reveal my new cover for my 19th of September release. 


              The Shearing Gun

Blurb :  At twenty-five, Hank owns a small parcel of land in Australia’s rural southwest where he supplements his income from the property with seasonal shearing.  Hank is a “shearing gun”—an ace shearer able to shear large numbers of sheep in a single day. His own father kicked him out when his sexuality was revealed, and since no one would ever hire a gay shearer, Hank has remained firmly closeted ever since.

Elliot is the newbie doctor in town—city-born and somewhat shell-shocked from his transplant to the country. When a football injury brings Hank to Elliot’s attention, an inappropriate sexual glance and the stuttered apology afterward kickstarts their friendship. Romance and love soon blossom, but it’s hard for either of them to hope for anything permanent. As if the constant threat of being caught isn’t enough, Elliot’s contract runs out after only a year.

 Excited?

Why did I write this story?  Well, back in the dark days (ie before Loving Jay was published) I was thinking about what to write about.  Country boys are always so sexy – but we don’t get a lot of cowboys in my section of Western Australia.  To the south of Perth is prime farming land.  We have huge industries in grapes, oranges, forestry and dairy.  To the south east it is sheep and wheat land.  To get your cowboys you need to go way way north.

But then I thought – why not shearers?  Do you get gay shearers?  You must do.  Not that very many of them would be out… <>

Shearing and sheep are in my blood.  My father was a shearer at one stage of his life (way before I was born).  He raised sheep my entire life.  I have brothers, nephews and even a sister-in-law who are all shearers. 

So please, sit back and enjoy Hank’s coming out story.


Available for pre-order from Dreamspinner within the next couple of days.  I'll post the link as soon as it's live.