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Archive for February, 2014

Holding Onto Hope Blog Tour

Welcome to the Blog Tour for Sid Love’s first novel, Holding onto Hope, which has one of the nicest covers I’ve seen for a long time.

Don’t forget to keep reading because there’s a terrific giveaway embedded in the post.

Holding Onto Hope by Sid Love

BLURB: Bradley Parker has waited twenty years for Mr. Right, and on Valentine’s Day, he finally finds him. It’s love at first sight, and Brad even loses his virginity to the man of his dreams. But when he wakes up the next morning unable to remember anything—even what the man looked like—his best friend, Leslie, is convinced he imagined the whole thing. Brad knows he didn’t make up the best night of his life, but he has no idea of the danger he’s putting himself in as he struggles to recall the details of his perfect man. His search may lead him to parts of New York City he never dreamed existed and a war being waged in the shadows.

EXCERPT:

“Okay, remember how I said it is huge?” Brad finally spoke, and Leslie nodded her head to let him know she was all ears. “Well, it is. Last night, something happened, something unimaginable… beyond any of my wildest dreams. I never thought….”
“Brad.” Leslie yawned. “To the point, please. I don’t have all day.”
“Okay, all right! What happened is….” He paused, plastering a big grin on his face. She tried very hard not to roll her eyes, letting him tell her at his own pace. “Last night, my dear, I finally got laid!”
When he broke the news to her, Leslie’s subsequent yawn was cut short by the initial shock she went through. Her body jerked forward, now fully awakened. There wasn’t any amount of caffeine that would have made her feel as lively as she felt at that moment.
This was definitely huge, and not just for Brad. Over the years, Leslie had constantly tried and consequently failed in hooking him up with several guys. Bradley Joseph Parker had the arrogance of a drag queen, she thought. He was too picky when it came to dating and relationships; never wishing to settle for anything less. He dreamt of a guy whose mere presence would take his breath away, who would be so handsome that every girl and every gay guy in the world would yearn to have him in their lives. “Such a guy would only belong to me, holding my hand in a roomful of envious people,” he would say with a smirk. “I would look around and say to them ‘Suck it up, bitches! He is mine!’”
Brad had wasted years with these stupid fantasies, and he had remained a virgin. So Leslie never thought the day would come when Brad’s whining would ever end.
But it had. And Leslie thought she would faint, even with the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
“Wha—?” She became aware of the fact that she had left her mouth hanging open for too long and shut it immediately. A smile crept across her lips, getting bigger by the second, and it turned into a cheek-hurting grin. “Oh my God! Shut up. Seriously?” She quickly sat up, hopping on the bed to cross her legs.
“Very seriously, Les.” Brad’s cute face beamed with wonder and excitement. Leslie couldn’t blame him. She remembered the day she had had sex for the first time, and even though it was a while back, she couldn’t forget the bliss she’d felt after finally losing her virginity or the hunger she felt for getting some more. Leslie was ready to bet that Brad was experiencing similar whirls of emotions in him.
“Last night, on Valentine’s Day…?” she asked.
Brad gave a nod. “On Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s so funny.” Leslie laughed out loud. Even though Valentine’s Day never meant anything to her, something this huge happening to her best friend did force her to consider it a special day. “Okay, you have to tell me everything, dude! Don’t leave out a single detail. I don’t care if it’s too much information. I just have to know. How long has this been going on between you two?”
Brad laughed. “Not too long. I just met him yesterday.”
“And you slept with him already?” Leslie’s mind was drawing up the picture of the perfect guy in her imagination, a guy who had managed to entice someone like Brad in such a short time. She was sure he would be down-to-earth, with an impeccably charming personality. “Way to go! I won’t deny it; I like the spontaneous Brad. Who is this guy, by the way? Do I know him?”
“No, you don’t.” His smile wavered a bit.
“Well, what’s his name?”
Leslie watched him hesitate for a moment. “I… don’t know.”
It took her by surprise.
“I think my devilish side just had a mind-blowing orgasm. You not only have sex with a guy for the first time, but you are also telling me it was simply a one-night stand?” She put her hand over her heart and mockingly said, “Mama Les is so proud of her boy!”
“But Les,” he knitted his eyebrows together as he stood up and came over to sit by her side. He took hold of Leslie’s hand, and she felt his grip tightening when he said, “It wasn’t a one-night stand. Definitely not, uh-uh.” He shook his head, and she immediately wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself. “It was special to me, and I could tell it was special for him too. Why else would he go to extremes to make that night an unforgettable memory? He lit up hundreds of scented candles in the room for me, and there were rose petals all over the bed where we did it.” Leslie didn’t miss the blush forming on his face again as he spoke. “There was champagne, sweet music, and he was a perfect gentleman. He kept asking me if I was sure about this.”
“WOW! Sounds utterly cheesy to me….” Leslie said, although she was quite impressed by all of it and maybe a bit jealous too.
Brad let go of her hand and sighed. “It was damn romantic.”
Leslie moved her gaze around the dorm room, scrutinizing it. “I am guessing it wasn’t here you did it then?” She inquired, turning to face him and watched him slowly crossing his legs like she had.
“No, he took me to his place.” Brad had his mouth open to probably add something more, but he stopped abruptly, scrunched his nose up, and glanced at her with some doubt. “I think it was his place… I don’t know. Where else would he take me?”
Leslie noticed uncertainty, even when he shrugged. What Brad was saying didn’t make any sense to her. “The champagne! Did you have too much of it?”
He frowned. “God, no! Why would I want to give him the impression I’m an idiotic drunkard on our first meeting?”
Of course she didn’t believe him. “Right, says the one who’d put Britney Spears to shame with his underage drinking. Seriously, dude, I’ve had to pick you up in a drunken state from God knows how many parties by now. So don’t shit me by saying you didn’t have any amount of alcohol in you last night.”
Brad reddened and carefully said, “I may have had a little bit of alcohol.”
Typical. Leslie rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you at Ian’s party last night?” She tried to keep her face straight as she asked. The party he had gone to was for all the single men and ladies from their college. Leslie knew exactly how that turned out every year by the end of the night.
He gave a nod in reply.
“Well, maybe you did it at his place?”
“No, it can’t be because we were partying at a nightclub last night.”
“Since when do nightclubs allow in a bunch of twenty year-olds?” she asked, certain they must have been stopped at the door for IDs. She couldn’t say about the others, but Brad’s cute baby face did give away his age.
“They don’t, but Ian somehow knew a few guys working at this nightclub that we went to, so we were able to sneak in.” He grinned.
Leslie suddenly wished she could have joined them. “Lucky you!” Now she couldn’t wait for May to arrive; that was when she turned twenty-one. She had been planning it in her mind forever. “So you met this mysterious guy in that club?”
“Yes, I think so.” Brad chewed on his lower lip.
“Well, what did he say to you? What did he look like?”
Brad turned sorrowful. “If I only knew….” He hung his head down and began to pull on his hair. “Fuck, Les!” He yelled, then looked up, scowling at her. “I can’t seem to remember any of it. The only thing that has managed to stay stuck in my memory is the mind-blowing sex that I had with him. I even remember all the positions we did it in, and God, that guy has the stamina of a wild lion, I tell you.”

BUY LINKS: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4633

Amazon Link will be sent out to you as soon as the book goes live there.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sid Love grew up in one of busiest cities in the world, Mumbai, listening to the excerpts of Indian epics from his father every night. While it served as an inspiration back in time, he has always had an ambitious mind. In 2007, when he had just turned sixteen, he decided that he would make his lifelong dream come true—to become a well-known, respected author some day.
Ask him and he would refuse to accept that he is obsessed with books. Or movies. Or TV shows. Addicted may even be the right word. He is a die-hard fan of Jane Austen’s romance novels and loves to reread them time and again.
You can find him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sid.love.16?ref=tn_tnmn or tweet him anytime: https://twitter.com/FatefulMercy, or simply e-mail him at sidlovethewriter@live.in.

26th – Sinfully Sexy – Monique – Guest Post
– Michael Rupured – Guest Post
27th – The Blogger Girls – Promo Spotlight
– Z A Maxfield – Promo Spotlight
28th – Fallen Angel Reviews – Spotlight + Review
GIVEAWAY
Tourwide – 5 E-copies of the book
$25 Amazon GC!
Raffle copter Code:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Raffle copter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0f7bf73/

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Description:
One October morning, high school junior Bryan Dennison wakes up a different person—helpful, generous, and chivalrous—a person whose new admirable qualities he doesn’t recognize. Stranger still is the urge to tie a red sheet around his neck like a cape.
Bryan soon realizes this compulsion to wear a red cape is accompanied by more unusual behavior. He can’t hold back from retrieving kittens from tall trees, helping little old ladies cross busy streets, and defending innocence anywhere he finds it.
Shockingly, at school, he realizes he used to be a bully. He’s attracted to the former victim of his bullying, Scott Beckett, though he has no memory of Scott from before “the change.” Where he’d been lazy in academics, overly aggressive in sports, and socially insecure, he’s a new person. And although he can recall behaving egotistically, he cannot remember his motivations.
Everyone, from his mother to his teachers to his “superjock” former pals, is shocked by his dramatic transformation. However, Scott Beckett is not impressed by Bryan’s newfound virtue. And convincing Scott he’s genuinely changed and improved, hopefully gaining Scott’s trust and maybe even his love, becomes Bryan’s obsession.

With a foreword by C. Kennedy

Book Links:
Dreamspinner ~ Goodreads

Excerpt:

I’D NEVER hidden in the high school boys’ bathroom, or any other bathroom, come to think of it, before. Not even once—from anybody or anything. I guess already being six foot two, and sharing no resemblance to a rack of bones, in my freshman year had kind of relieved me of the burden most ninth graders suffered of needing to hide from the terrible seniors—I’d already towered over most of them. But in more general terms, I didn’t hide because: A) I was too big to find any sort of a decent hiding spot in a men’s room, and B) everybody else was too busy hiding from me so all possible hiding spots were occupied. Nonetheless, here I was, cowering in a bathroom stall.
I needed to be alone for a few minutes. I needed to figure out what the fuck was happening in my life. I’ll put it this way: I was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that this weird personality change that had come over me went well beyond a desire for a red cape. Yeah, this was something far more complicated.
Inside the stall, the toilet had no lid to sit on, so sitting down on the toilet seat in a dignified manner, with my pants up, did not seem to be an option. On TV, I’d seen plenty of crafty characters hide in bathroom stalls by standing on top of the toilet seat so that if anyone looked under the stall to see if somebody was in there, no feet would be dangling down. But if I was to try that tack, I’d put my head right through the ceiling, as I’d grown at least two inches since freshman year. I guess six foot four wasn’t always an advantage. So I went with sitting cross-legged in front of the toilet. Unsanitary? Yes. Pathetic? Quite possibly. But it was the best I could come up with in the heat of the moment.
Strangely, when I finally got my long body folded into that bent-up position on the floor in front of the toilet, I could see that there was already someone curled up on the floor in the stall next to mine. So much for my solitary thinking time.
I directed my question to the lifeless body. “Excuse me… um… are you feeling okay?” I had no choice. I was called to respond to an insatiable drive within me to help those in need. And this guy had to be in major need or he wouldn’t be crumpled up into a fetal ball on the filthy bathroom floor. “Like… dude, want me to go get the nurse or something?”
I couldn’t see his face, as it was covered up by his arms. He didn’t make a sound.
“Is it your stomach? There’s a lot going around right now, I’d say. My mom is a nurse at County General Hospital and she told me that….” I let my words trail off, suspecting the guy wasn’t listening to me anyways.
“Just leave me alone.”
Well, that was a start, wasn’t it? I mean, we were communicating now.
Positive thinking, Bry.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I was afraid too. I was afraid the new chivalrous part of me wasn’t gonna let me leave the bathroom until I had gotten this guy onto his feet and smiling up at me. And class started in ten minutes, which didn’t leave me a hell of a lot of time to accomplish my lofty goal. “At least tell me what’s wrong.”
“Like you don’t already know.” His response was both muffled and pissed-off sounding, but, again, it was communication, so I felt thankful.
Thankful to whom? I had no idea. I was just thankful, period. (Try to hold off on the fucking analysis at this point, okay, reader?)
“Call me clueless, but I have no idea what is troubling you.”
He slid to the edge of my stall and stuck his head in. I saw a flash of blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched on an adorable nose—it was Scott Beckett, the kid from the cafeteria.
“It’s you.”
“Yeah, asshole, it’s me. So, go ahead, do what you came here to do. You going to give me a swirly? Make me lick the urinals…. What’s it going to be this time, Dennison?”
I had no idea how to respond. I’d never so much as laid eyes on this kid before, and he was acting like I’d been in on some kind of a bullying brigade directed solely at him. Either I had missed something major, or he had a very vivid imagination. “Refresh my memory, Beckett. Tell me what I did… uh, the last time.”
Still sprawled out flat on the floor beside me, directly underneath the stall divider, his pretty face screwed up into a tight knot, he squealed, “Fuck you, Dennison! Acting like you forgot is even more insulting than what you did to me in the first place. Like, I can believe that you and your buddy torture any kid who looks like an easy target, so you can’t remember all the evil details of each individual case, but what you did to me? Saturday night? Just… just fuck you!”
I nodded and then shook my head. I was clueless and confused… and starting to feel guilty. For what, I didn’t know.
Plus, Scott Beckett was just so… so interesting. So appealing.
Why would I ever try to hurt him?
“God, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought you were… and that’s sure saying something.” Scott dragged himself up off the floor. Once he was standing in the stall beside mine, he asked me, “So, other than last Saturday night, you usually play the role of the evil sidekick when you’re out in public. Where’s your buddy Wilson—the instigator?”
“Brandon Wilson?”
“Ya think? Let me guess… five, four, three, two, one… looks like he’s late, isn’t he? But I know he’s going to burst in here, conveniently, at any second now, right? Or maybe he’s waiting outside the door for an audio cue or something?”
I stood up too. What this dude was implying about my personal character was highly disturbing.
“Should I scream? Is that the signal—or are you going for the tears again, you fuckwad-asswipe?”
Signal?
Tears? Again?
Fuckwad-asswipe? Me?
“No, Brandon’s back in the cafeteria. Now listen, buddy, just do me a favor—”
“Did you just call me ‘buddy’?” He asked me so loudly that his voice echoed in the tiny stall.
“Just tell me what I did to you.”
His stall door slammed, indicating he was now out in the main part of the bathroom. So I came out of my stall as well. And Scott Beckett was just standing there in front of the sink, glasses in hand, looking up at me with round bright eyes, his pretty pink-skinned face saturated with the purest fury I’d ever seen, and it was all directed my way. I mean, this kid fucking hated me… and I didn’t know him from Adam. “I’m not about to do you any favors, Dennison.” His thin top lip curled up in disgust, and then he added in a low voice, “Besides, we both know what went down.”
With one last scathing look, he fled the bathroom. And I was even more flabbergasted than I had been five minutes before when I’d come into the men’s room to think.
That kid is completely full of bull.
Yeah, that had to be it: Scott Beckett was messing with my head. Right? But… but back in the caf, hadn’t Brandon suggested that we had done something to this kid… and that he seemed to be looking forward to the two of us finishing the job we’d started on him? And, for that matter, Jack had referred to the fact that Brandon and me had made more than one trip to the principal’s office in regard to bullying this kid.
I grabbed a hold on the sink, because the entire bathroom was suddenly spinning all around me. I was dizzy, but I was sure it wasn’t because of the shocking realization that I may have done something seriously nasty to Scott Beckett (that I somehow couldn’t remember) to make him hate me this way. No, it wasn’t that at all… convenient memory lapses don’t just happen. Most probably, I was dizzy because I was exhausted. I guessed that maybe I’d drunk more than my fair share on Saturday night, because, in truth, Sunday was mostly a blur too. Or maybe somebody had slipped me a roofie, which could definitely be the reason I was sick and dizzy and I couldn’t remember shit. All I had to do was just make it through the rest of the day, and then serve my detention, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. I’d tell Mom I was sick… that I wasn’t up for a big dinner. That was the truth too—I really wasn’t up for food or conversation.
Rest was all I needed… and tomorrow when I woke up, things would be crystal clear again.
But, shit, I hope Mom brings home those sheets.

Book Links:
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4726

About the Author:
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.

Author Links:

Home


https://www.facebook.com/mia.kerick

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Saturday Recs

Last week I was singing the praises of a romping sexy tongue in cheek historical series – the Magpie Lord by K J Charles – this week I am whizzing far into the future to talk about science fiction.

This week’s recommendation was plugged by Lisa Henry as being a good read. Thanks Lisa!

The Silvers by Jill Smith is set in two worlds. One is an ethereal realm on a far planet where life is incredibly simple and calm until a research team of scientists arrive. The other is Earth, not so different from our own but with space travel and higher forms of technology.

The action initially involves the friction between the passionate scientists and the Silvers, natives of the planet, who feel no anger or fear, who do not fight, who make themselves one with their environment, who feel no desire or envy. Obviously they can’t be human so they can be abused, beaten and experimented upon with a clear conscience, one might think. But the captain of the team, B, begins to have doubts as he notices their capacity for joy and curiosity. Part of the tension in the book is the gulf between the scientists who are objective about their experiments, as required by their sponsors, and those who begin to experience grave doubts about the ethics of what they are doing.

Due to a tragedy the action moves back to Earth where the silver Imms has to learn about fast food, animal sanctuaries and that people can do bad things with the best of motives.

Now, I’ll admit that I haven’t quite finished the book yet – I’m about 2 thirds of the way through, but I’m absolutely hooked and terribly worried that the two protagonists will never be able to have any kind of happy ending. However that doesn’t mean that there won’t be a rivetting and satisfying conclusion to the story. I’m trusting Jill Smith on this one.

PS Jill Smith also writes critically acclaimed BDSM M/M erotica with Lisa Henry so if you like that you may have to make the adjustment to the fact that there’s no explicit on page sex in this. I’m not feeling the lack, but that’s just me.

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Seeing DOUBLE
by Algenon Lusch

Book blurb:

The man-hunt is under way, and David’s keen to a snag a husband without having to complete every date of his 52 First Dates challenge. With several successful meets behind him, there’s a growing feeling of confidence that his search could actually work. But now that the novelty’s worn off, finding the motivation to keep going is about to become harder.

David finds himself trying to juggle meeting new men and providing a shoulder to cry on his to battered and pregnant friends. And, with a plethora of hotties vying for his attention, things are about to get more complicated.

Seeing DOUBLE is a 13,000K SHORT STORY, or about 37 pages, from the 52 First Dates series

Release date:

February 10th, 2014
Book 1: The Man PLAN
Book 2: Friends and FRENCHMEN
Book 3: Seeing DOUBLE

Excerpt:

I come to the end of Spitalfields and prepare to cross the road when my attention is caught by a sexy Mediterranean man walking towards me. The chiselled jaw that I know is there is hidden beneath thick scruff. Why do I know it’s there? Because I’m having a moment of intense déjà vu as Alex, Theo’s twin brother, strolls sexily towards me. Do these two just loiter in my vicinity to taunt/treat me? In the same way that we locked eyes all those weeks ago in Soho, we catch each other’s glance as the distance between us continues to diminish. The similarities between Alex and Theo are startling, even though I know they’re twins. This allure is the same too; both men exude intense sexuality.
As we pass each other, Alex smiles intensely, keeping his gaze on me until the last moment. I allow my heart to flutter as he walks by, and let a secret grin spread unseen.
“Wait, I’m not just gonna walk by you this time.”
I freeze as I hear Theo’s voice, though I know it’s not him but Alex. He reappears in my vision and smiles the smile I’ve seen before.
“This is the third time we’ve seen each other. Perhaps someone’s telling us something.”
“Maybe,” I grin back, clenching my jaw and feeling slightly fluttery. “I’m David by the way.”
“Alex,” he replies. I know. Now comes the conundrum; to let on that Theo and I have already had our own tryst, or to keep schtum. I decide on the latter for now. There’s no need to rock the boat before I work out where this might lead.
“I don’t normally do this, but do you fancy going for a drink?” Alex asks without removing his seductive eyes from my own. “I’ve finished uni work for the day and was just gonna head home otherwise.”
“Sure,” I reply, still feeling slightly stunned that not only is he asking, but that this scenario has happened in the first place. The twins have now each come to my aid after being stood up by the same guy.
“There’s a little pub down here. It ain’t anything special, but it’ll do for a quick drink.”
“You mentioned uni?” I ask as he turns back to where he’d been previously walking and we make our way to the pub.
“Yeah, I’m on my last year before starting clinical rotations. I’ve got a lot of reading to do.”
“So you’re doing medicine?” He’s hot and a doctor?
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I party as hard as I work.” He smirks at me with a knowing wink. “What about you?”
“Graphic designer. I know, I know, don’t roll your eyes. There’s a lot of us about, it’s practically a gay cliché these days.”
“No, no, it’s cool. Creative types….good with your hands and all that.” He gives me that knowing wink again, sending even more flutters through me. It’s strange. Whilst Theo brought out deep surges of lust, Alex is bringing out that and additional butterflies too. Maybe there is something different about these twins after all.

About the author

A. Lusch lives in London and has been though much of the same path as David – in fact – this series is based around true events.
Of course, there is MUCH more to come in the tale, but, don’t worry, now the scene is set, there’ll be many more dates per book. Is there a happy ending in sight? You’ll have to keep reading to find out.
A. Lusch fully believes in never settling, always striving for the perfect match, and never giving up on your man once you’ve found him – oh, and eating A LOT of donuts!

You may follow Algenon Lusch at the following links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AlgenonLusch
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlgenonLusch
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7191612.A_Lusch
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/A.-Lusch/e/B00EB6OWSU/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ALusch

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Saturday Recs

Another weekend, another recommendation.

There are times when I derive great delight in poking around the darker corners of the not quite M/M genre for things to read but there are others were I happily follow on with all the other readers in the pursuit of excellence. This is one of the latter cases.

K J Charles’s Magpie Lord series is taking us all by storm. Set in a Victorian England where Dickensian excesses of luxury, decadence, rectitude and squalor vie with the extremes of magical power, K J’s heroes straddle the all the lines. Lucien Vaudrey is an unrepentant remittance man, set out to China by his family to remove the embarrassment of his existence and left to sink or swim with only the assistance of his manservant Merrick. Over the years Lucien and Merrick have done anything and everything to stay alive – rent boy and cage fighter to name but two lucrative professions – but are back now with money to burn and more attitude than you can shake a stick at. If you did shake a stick, Lucien would sneer at you then Merrick would break both your arms – they are WONDERFUL!

Also wonderful is dear little, shabby genteel magician Stephen Day. He’s a genuine magical policeman dedicated to the pursecution* of warlocks, who gain their power by draining the life force of weaker magicians or the general public. Stephen has a very big grudge against Lucien’s family but also has a cash flow problem. When Lucien needs magical help to deal with a family curse, Stephen is in no position to refuse.

Ghosts, curses, family houses, locked room mysteries, predatory females, sneering villains – yep they are all there. Two diverse but loveable heroes – yep. The most memorable secondary character of the year – oh MERRICK.

If you don’t like a well thought out magical theory, you don’t like historical periods described with pinpont precision, you don’t like angsty boundary-crossing romance and you don’t like tense and exciting plots, well you may then enjoy what I’ve been told are red hot sex scenes. I found them to be plot relevant and character building, but that’s just me.

The books also have the most gorgeous covers.

A little bird told me that Book 3 in the series is now with editors so I’m curbing my impatience to get at the next instalment. Can Not Wait.

* pursecution = chasing, catching and clobbering

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readingTime for a very late recommendation. But since the reason I’m late is that I was READING I don’t suppose anyone will mind too much.

This week’s rec is a funny one. Have you ever read a review and thought ‘phwoar, that looks good’ but then had a good hard look at the book cover and title and thought “Yes but that looks like it’s going to be wall to wall erotica”? Yes, that’s what happened here.

The Naked Hero: The Journey Away by J K Brighton has all the trappings – broody looking nude with tats on the front, the word ‘naked’ in the title, a blurb that suggests all kinds of saucy goings on. I bought the book due to the reviews – Becky Condit and The Novel Approach – but put off reading it because I honestly didn’t expect to enjoy it that much. I can read a book without enjoying it and still be able to see what a cracking narrative it is. In this case I was expecting top notch writing with lots of angsty romance, plentiful sex scenes, and hardly any tennis.

Well how wrong I was!
The Naked Hero is about the challenges faced by a Lewis MacLeod, star of Scottish tennis, who won the Male Singles title at Wimbledon 2 years before. Handsome, tattooed, aggressively talented, Lewis came out in his speech while accepting his trophy. Since then the pressures of the professional circuit have got to him and his career is on a very shaky footing, especially since a one night stand led to an explicit exposé in a muck raking Australian newspaper. With sponsors pulling out and the tennis authorities accusing him of bringing the game into disrepute Lewis has to juggle his drive to succeed with his desire for a proper relationship.

There are two possible candidates for the ‘perfect man’ Lewis wants in his life. Lee is a male model who runs his own agency, providing escorts and eye candy. He is polished, almost as driven to succeed as Lewis, sexually rapacious and on the make. Scott is Lewis’s hero. Too old for the pro tennis circuit, he is working as a commentator for an American tv station.

The book details the pressures brought to bear on Lewis over the weeks running up to the Australian Open, the extremes of physical and mental fitness the young player has to meet and the blows to his self esteem and well being as plans come to bits and he’s left bereft. This is far more than the angsty romance that I expected – though angst abounds. The cast of secondary characters are superb and each serves a very valid plot driven purpose. The differences between what Lee and Scott offer, and are willing to offer, add to the tension. And finally, the biggest shock of all, there’s no on page sex. I’m assuming that this is the reason for some of the poor ratings on Goodreads because the book is excellent and doesn’t suffer at all from the lack of explicit rumpy pumpy.

Book 2 – The Journey Home is already available and I’m looking forward to reading it.

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Johann Andreas IV is a rich loser who has a raw deal in life. He is handsome, yet with a poor self-image, clever, but still uneducated, and despite being the heir apparent in his grandfather’s will, he’s about to be thrown out with nothing.
In the underground colony of his birth, two things matter the most to its denizens: a name, which will guarantee his wealth and status, and a designated branding tattoo, the only thing allowing Colony-Dwellers to live safely underground. Johann has one year to secure both.
His grandfather’s unexpected passing has propelled Johann to the foreground of his family. He must learn the family business within the year. He’s up to the challenge but one thing stands in his way; his mother has plans of her own…and they don’t include him.

Ashlyn Forge has called four different continents home, America, Europe, Latin America, and Asia. Having spent most of her childhood staying out of trouble in upstate New York, she now lives in Japan. She is currently working on her “Toys and Soldiers” series, which is set in a Sci-Fi Fantasy underground world. The books of the series are released out of order with the debut (book 1) “In Liam’s Wake” and “From Johann to Tannnenbaum” released in 2013. Book 2: “Beyond Riley’s Slumber” as well as “The Stuff of Dreams” and “Erosions” are slated for publication in 2014.

An Excerpt from From Johann to Tannenbaum:

Johann worked well into the night, having received a message on his interface around six o’clock from Kobal. Dinner was off, but they’d reschedule.
“Right.” Time and again he’d repeat that single-sentence text to himself and snort bitterly. “Yeah. Right.”
He was late in leaving the office, and, as anticipated, most workers had retreated to the area designated for staff by the time Johann arrived at the seemingly empty kitchen. When he saw the outline of someone sitting at the table in front of the food that had been set out for him, he approached with caution. It wasn’t a body he readily recognized.
Tanner sat hunched at the table, writing on a piece of paper.
Johann paused, thinking back to the days prior to figure out when or where the E had gotten that paper. He made a mental note to count his stack tomorrow.
“Hi.”
The E’s bald head snapped up, and he gave a weak smile. Tanner’s brown eyes settled on the paper once more. He studied what he’d written and pushed it forward.
Johann decided to sit and did so slowly as he picked the paper up. The very texture made him want to cry; it was from the office. By the Colony, how much more paper can be sacrificed for the good of communication? What he saw made him pause for some time. It was a picture. He’d seen E drawings before. Hell, when he’d called up Queen and Tanner’s profiles to see if they were single, he’d seen a few samples of Queen’s artwork. The man was a genius with a brush. Tanner, however…was much less sophisticated than the other E’s. When Johann lowered the paper and saw Tanner’s smug look, he focused on the picture again and finally laughed.
“So this is your way of giving me a message?” Johann pointed at the drawing. “I guess this is Queen?”
Tanner took the paper back, ran his thumb along the pen to change the ink color, and scribbled green hair on the stick figure.
“Ja.”
“Right.” Johann studied the message again and smiled in spite of himself. He turned the paper around to Tanner for inspection as he spoke. “So Kobal told Queen to tell me he wasn’t coming.” He pointed down to the second row of pictures to show Queen’s stick figure with a frowny face. He took on the same gruff tone the E was noted for. “So Queen said ‘hell no, I’m not going.’ So you’ve decided to come tell me. But that was a good three hours ago.” He got to the final image with the Tanner frowny face, made all too clear that it was Tanner because he’d drawn everyone else with exaggerated eyebrows, yet this stick figure was the only one without. “So you’re pissed because you waited out of the kindness of your heart and I took a long time to get here?”
Tanner only gave him that calm, pleasant look Johann had come to like. When the man folded his arms and sat back, Johann bowed humbly.
“So sorry.” He didn’t get a response, so he clapped his hands together and bowed. “So sorry. Sorry.”
In response Tanner pushed the tray of food forward and sat up with his elbows on the table as he pointed to what was on the tray.
There wasn’t much, but then again, Johann wasn’t surprised. Marian had brought the hammer down, and although Gulliver didn’t usually act all that servile to her, whatever Marian threatened to do must have convinced the cook to take heed.
The sight of the soup, bread, and yogurt caught his attention, and he nodded.
“Right. A hearty meal.”
With no way of making conversation, Johann waited for Tanner to leave. The E didn’t budge; he just sat and watched him. For an instant Johann missed Gulliver. Sure the man couldn’t talk, but at least he could understand.
Now Johann truly felt like he was talking to himself. He sighed and started on his soup. Halfway through, he noticed that Tanner had slouched lower to watch him, eyes on Johann’s mouth.
“Oh yeah, you guys don’t eat, huh?” At the curious look, Johann decided to offer some of his food. “Never? You just never eat? Not even for pleasure? Some of you eat for fun, don’t you? Here, try it.”
The gesture prompted Tanner to sit back and shake his head. He took interest in the bread roll next, and Johann studied him closely. As large as Tanner’s body was, despite all the power he exuded just by being there, he did appear harmless on many levels. There was a gentleness about him.
He didn’t think of it as much of a risk when he broke the bread and handed a piece over. Tanner looked at him cautiously and then took the piece. He seemed apprehensive, to say the least, but he took a bite and spat it out immediately.
Johann smiled and then laughed when Tanner looked from the bread roll to the paper he had scribbled on and nodded between the two.
“It does not taste like paper. Come on,” Johann mused.
When Tanner reached for the paper and threatened to take a bite, Johann sat up to snatch it from him.
“Stop already.” Johann chuckled. “Other than the fact that they both burn easily—”
Tanner made an attempt to snatch the paper back, but their fingers brushed, and a slight spark flickered between them at the contact.
Johann stood cautiously. “What the hell…”
He managed to catch a glimpse of Tanner’s eyes widening in fear before the paper caught fire.
No doubt in an attempt to shield Johann, Tanner pushed him back.
The very touch of the E’s hand on his skin made Johann howl.
Johann looked up from the burn mark on his chest. Tanner stood, both hands engulfed in flames, staring at the offending appendages, clearly at a loss of what to do.
A chime sounded, and the System’s voice boomed. “Fire. Oxygen depletion in five, four, three, two…

The kitchen door slid shut, and the lights dimmed. Tanner was the only light source then, his fists burning blue. Within a matter of seconds, there was no more air for Johann to gasp.

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My guest today is Indra Vaughan who has just published her debut gay romance novel, The House on Hancock Hill. It is set in Michigan, where Indra lives, and since it concerns the romantic adventures of a pastry chef, she tells me she wrote it in a state of constant hunger.

Thank you for visiting, Indra, and for answering my questions.
~~~

Elin: Can you tell me a little about yourself? For instance, do you have to have a day job as well as being a writer?

Indra: Well, I’m from Belgium. I lived there until I was 21, got a degree in Midwifery, then moved to England where I took a Bachelor in Traditional Chinese Medicine. I worked as a nurse for eight years, but when we moved to the US I had to give it up because my degree didn’t transfer. I did work here as a Case Manager for a while but it wasn’t the same. So this is when I started thinking about turning my writing into a full time project, and here I am. (It’s not a career yet, far from it, but hope springs eternal, right?)

Elin: When you aren’t writing, is there any other creative activity you enjoy? Have you ever written about it?

Click the cover for the link to this free read on the MM Goodreads website

Indra: I read a lot, but that’s sort of tied in with the writing I think. Apart from that I’m as creative as a mountain goat. I can’t paint or draw to save my life. In fact I can barely cut in a straight line with a pair of scissors.

I did write about knitting, once, for the Love Has No Boundaries Event on Goodreads. I pinch-hit a story about a guy who knits magical beanies. So if course I called it Genie in a Beanie, because how could I not.

Elin: What are you reading? Can you recommend something that you wished you’d written yourself?

Indra: I am currently reading the Infected series by Andrea Speed (and by reading I mean attempting to gather my courage to move on to the third book).
The book I wish I’d written… None of my favorites because then I wouldn’t have known the pleasure of reading them. So maybe Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin because then I would be all knowledgable about little writing tricks.

Elin: In that crucial inspiration stage of a new story which comes first? Plot, situation or character?

Indra: Usually the character comes first. I find if I have to go from a situation or a plot, the story doesn’t flow so easily.

Elin: Is there any genre you would love to write, ditto one you would avoid like a rattlesnake? What inspired you to write about The House on Hancock Hill?

Indra: I would love to write Fantasy. In fact one of my very first serious writing efforts years ago was a a Fantasy trilogy, which I believe has potential but I am just terrified to open that document. I remember at the end of it I became so frustrated I killed off my MC. Which posed a problem.
As for a genre I would avoid… I think never say never is a good philosophy, but I’m pretty certain I won’t ever attempt writing an autobiography. My life is just too plain boring. (And I like it that way.)

Elin: Put together your ideal team of men/women drawing from all and any walks of life, fictional or non-fictional who you would want to come to your rescue if menaced by muggers/alligators/fundamentalists?

Indra: Gina Torres – because even alligators quake in their leather at the sight of this magnificent woman.
Indiana Jones – he was my childhood hero and he would be excellent against the muggers and fundamentalists.
Kat Stratford in Ten Things I Hate About You – because that character opened my eyes when I was an 18 year old young woman. She made me realize looking pretty for a boy is not a goal in life.
Lucien Vaudrey & Stephen Day from KJ Charles’s Magpie Lord series – because they would kick ass (and maybe make out a little).

Elin: Villains are incredibly important in fiction since they challenge the main protagonists and give them something to contend with beyond the tension of a developing relationship. The cruel sea. The serial killer. The society itself. Your hero’s inner demons. What sort of villains do you prize?

Indra: The one I can relate to on some level, whether it’s an inner demon or a real one. I want to understand the villain’s reasoning, and not have him/her/it be evil for evil’s sake. Everyone who does wrong has some sort of motivation, and many believe they are doing the right thing.

Elin: What are you working on at the moment? Can you discuss it or do you prefer to keep it a secret until it’s finished.

Indra: I am working on three different things right now, but the biggest project is the Shadow Mountain series, which is a paranormal mystery. It takes place in a made-up town that sits in the shadow of a looming mountain, where people keep dying in mysterious ways. Lieutenant Hart, who is head of cold cases, investigates these deaths when he starts to see a pattern. He quickly finds out nothing makes sense, his dead father was involved in the mystery, and the guy he just hooked up with is keeping secrets from him too.

Elin: Could we please have an excerpt of something?

Indra: Of course. Here’s an excerpt of The House at Hancock Hill.

Excerpt:

Since the bakery had closed two hours ago, I considered not going inside the shop to check who it was, but the knock came again. I couldn’t remember any other time anyone had tried to get in at this hour, so I stuck my head through the kitchen door. A man was pressing a hand to the window and peering in. I didn’t need to turn on the light to see who it was. That build—those strong shoulders and narrow waist, sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jaw. An exquisitely tailored three-piece suit.
It was Tom.
If he hadn’t spotted me then, I’d have hidden in the kitchen and waited for him to leave. Swallowing hard, I wiped my hands on a clean towel, snatched off my chef’s hat, and quickly looked down. There was chocolate on my apron, a smear of marzipan on my sleeve. I had butter under my nails.
Well, he’d arrived unannounced, he’d have to take it or leave it. I unlocked the door and stepped back, pulling it open. On the threshold, Tom smiled at me in a way that used to make my heart swell.
“My God, Jason.” Tom said nothing else, and I couldn’t help it: it thrilled me to see him look at me like that.
“Tom.” I faltered. What could I say? Good to see you? I wasn’t sure it was. He grinned at me, and it was so familiar, it ached somewhere inside me even after all these years.
“I sent you an email a couple of days ago to say I was in town, but I gather from the look on your face you didn’t get it.”
“It’s been really busy.” With an apologetic little wave, I indicated the yellow and green Easter decorations, the chocolate ducklings arranged in a row according to size, the huge halved chocolate eggs filled with smaller sugar eggs.
“Well that’s great,” he said, smiling a warm, white-toothed smile. “I’m pleased. Is this a really bad time? I’d love to take a look around your bakery.”
“I—yeah, sure.” I stepped aside and let him in, locking the door again so no one else could wander in. At the back of the shop, I flicked the lights on and then watched Tom look around.
To see him here was surreal. He was part of a life that had been over for so long, I didn’t know if I was comfortable with him in my bakery.
Who was I kidding? Of course I wasn’t comfortable. Tom looked like he’d walked off the front cover of Forbes magazine, and I probably had flour in my hair. To be fair, he peered around with real interest. When he spotted the marzipan animals in every color imaginable, I thought he was going to press his face to the display window like a kid. Tom didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but I remember marzipan being his Achilles’ heel.
“Those look amazing,” he said on cue, and I laughed. “Did you make all this yourself?”
“I do the confections and Alice does the bread.” Tom beamed at me, and I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you can try one.” I stepped behind the counter and plucked a little pink piglet off the tray, handing it over with a smirk.
“Thanks, Jason. I’ll pay you.”
“No need. Go on, try it.”
Tom bit off the nose. For some reason I knew he’d do that. “Mmmm,” he went, closing his eyes and making a dramatic blissful face. “Oh my God.” He ate the rest of the piglet and licked his fingers. “That article wasn’t lying.”
I frowned at him and took off my stained apron, draping it over the cash register. “What article?”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Tom explored the rest of the display. “Just something I read awhile back. I can’t remember where, but it’s how I found out you owned your own bakery. Oh.” He straightened. “It was about opening a second one in Detroit and how it was quickly becoming a household name or something.” I hadn’t read the article, but I couldn’t say it didn’t please me to hear it. “Who was it that opened the other one? Denny Sherwood or something?”
“Sheridan. Denny Sheridan. Sherwood is the name of the bakery.”
“Right, of course.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Got to be tough to have a long distance thing going.”
Laughing at the badly hidden snooping, I said, “He’s married with two kids.”
Tom headed back my way and grinned at me with an open affection I wasn’t used to from him. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t give you a hug. Can I hug you, or are you still allergic to affection?”
A sudden lump rammed its way into my throat when I thought about how I’d kissed Henry in front of his clinic, visible to all and sundry. I shoved the image away. “I guess not.” It was still awkward to hug him. Maybe because it’d been so long since I’d seen Tom, and he’d just appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe I was forever going to be unable to adjust to holding someone shorter.
“You look good,” Tom said, and I let him go.
“You too.”
After a silence that had me look away first, Tom said, “Is there anywhere we can get dinner at this hour, or does everything close at eight?” He laughed, but for some reason his attitude grated on me. Traverse City wasn’t that small.
“I’m actually in the middle of making a chocolate Easter bunny. I can’t leave it overnight.”
“Can I watch?”
That was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t know how to say it without being rude, and I doubted very much the request would’ve bothered me if it had come from Henry. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”
The Easter bunny broke in two when I took it out of the mold. Tom was perched on the clean worktable behind me, and he laughed. It took me a good minute before I could turn around without showing moisture in my eyes. Tom slid off the counter and put his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down, so I probably hadn’t hidden my dismay very well.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’ll go grab my coat.” I went into the small office. It had a little mirror behind the door, and I quickly checked my hair. It did have flour in it. Ah well, at least the scar on my chin was slowly beginning to fade.

###

The House on Hancock Hill by Indra Vaughn
Pastry chef and bakery owner Jason Wood bakes a mean chocolate soufflé, yet his love life keeps falling flat. He’d blame his past if he wasn’t trying so hard to avoid it.

When his family’s farmhouse burns to the ground, he’s summoned to identify a body found in the ashes. Jason returns to Hancock, Michigan, and reunites with a childhood friend, small town vet Henry McCavanaugh. After fifteen years apart, their rekindled friendship soon develops into much more. But Jason’s baggage threatens their blossoming romance, and he leaves town unannounced to escape his feelings—and Henry’s feelings for him. He has learned the hard way if something seems too good to be true, it’s best to run for the hills. Jason stress-bakes more confections than he knows what to do with before wondering if he’s running in the wrong direction.

Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4667

You can follow Indra on her website – http://www.indravaughn.com – or on her Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/indra.vaughn.7

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Today my guest is Kit Moss, well known writer of historical novels and reviewer of everything LGBTQ.

Thanks, Kit, for agreeing to answer my questions. First of all, can you tell me a little about yourself? For instance, do you have to have a day job as well as being a writer?

CHM – I wrote my first short story when I was seven and the rest, to coin a phrase, is historical fiction. I actually spent my teen years writing what eventually became my first novel, AN INVOLUNTARY KING. I had to have that dreaded day job for a couple decades, with occasional publications in the LGBT magazines, but when I started reading one M/M romance after another, I began to want to read and write the same. It was also about that time I realized I was transgender, and now I have a mission in life… two actually… to write transgender novels and to correct the erasure of LGBT people from history by writing stories that plausibly illustrate how we might have managed to live and love in the past. I have a couple sources of income so I can make my writing a full time job.

EG: When you aren’t writing, is there any other creative activity you enjoy?

CHM – I dabble in song writing and have had one song recorded by a Celtic musician, and I love also to try my hand at various arts and crafts. I have a severe vision disability but perhaps my most creative effort is how I adapt these arts and crafts to my lousy eyesight. I hope to deal with that resourcefulness in future writing products, including a novella about a gay man with the same eye condition I have.

EG: What are you reading? Can you recommend something that you wished you’d written yourself?

CHM – I mostly read M/M and other LGBT but I am currently reading Barbara Hambley’s Benjamin January mysteries and also Edward Rutherfurd’s NEW YORK: THE NOVEL. I recently read two YA transgender novels that knocked my socks off, Zoe Lynne’s FREEING STELLA and Suzanne van Roouyen’s THE OTHER ME. As to books I wish I’d written myself, that’s easy. I just adore everything Tamara Allen has ever written, especially WHISTLING IN THE DARK and DOWNTIME. Both simply exquisite M/M romances.

EG: In that crucial inspiration stage of a new story which comes first? Plot, situation or character? Do your characters arrive fully fledged and ready to fly or do they develop as you work with them?

CHM – I’m with Balzac on this one. The proper way to write a story is to develop characters and come to understand them so thoroughly that you can drop them into a situation and let them tell you what they’d do to cope. I regard each new project as a chance to get myself a new set of friends to play with. The fictional neighborhood is growing almost constantly.

EG: Do you have a crisp mental picture of them or are they more a thought and a feeling than an image?

Frankie by Linda Laaksonen

Frankie by Linda Laaksonen

CHM – Oh I know exactly what they look like. I used to have a genius of a friend named Linda Laaksonen who managed to draw and paint them just as I picture them, but alas, she passed away too young.

EG: Is there any genre you would love to write, ditto one you would avoid like a rattlesnake? What inspired you to write about history?

CHM – I want to write mysteries and also paranormal so my storytelling can double as a game as readers work the puzzle out. I would avoid Christian novels like the plague. By that I mean all Christian novels, but especially the romance genre. I write historical fiction because I love history, but even more than that because historians have overlooked large swaths of humanity either because there was so little record of them or they simply don’t want to believe they existed, like LGBT people. I think historical novelists can fill in this willful erasure with plausible tales of how we managed to live and love in hostile societies.

EG: Do you find there to be a lot of structural differences between a relationship driven story and one where the romance is a sub plot?

CHM – I really enjoyed writing WHERE MY LOVE LIES DREAMING which is primarily a love story set against historical events, in this case the American Civil War, but I also enjoyed the primarily historical side of my new novel BELOVED PILGRIM. The particular Crusade it takes place in was pretty cut and dried; they started here and went there and then this happened from A to Z. That allowed me to focus on depicting the events and what living through it might have been like. I’ve gotten some wonderful comments on how I handled this. The love story is sweet but it is definitely not the point of the novel. The novel is about how the protagonist survived and grew through the awful events he experienced. I would say that having a romance as part of a bigger story makes you focus more on seeing it through a character’s eyes, while the romance is more about the relationship growing.

EG: Put together your ideal team of men/women – drawing from all and any walks of life, fictional or non-fictional – who you would want to come to your rescue if menaced by muggers/alligators/fundamentalists?

CHM – Oh my. I definitely would like Elias from BELOVED PILGRIM and Lawrence and Rory from AN INVOLUNTARY KING, swords drawn, at my back. I think you just explained a puzzle for me. I have long wondered why I always seem to write about war. Sword or cannon wielding heroes come in handy when threatened! Thanks for this.

EG: Villains are incredibly important in fiction since they challenge the main protagonists and give them something to contend with beyond the tension of a developing relationship. The cruel sea. The serial killer. The society itself. Your hero’s inner demons. What sort of villains do you prize?

CHM – What a great question. My villains seem to be people who use power for evil reasons, and I include intolerance in that. In M/M you run into the chance to write the threat of religious or social intolerance that threatens the individual or couple. My best villain though I think is Elerde from AN INVOLUNTARY KING. He is amoral, entirely self-serving but also entirely appealing, often turning out to be the readers’ favorite character. Drives me nuts.

EG: What are you working on at the moment? Can you discuss it or do you prefer to keep it a secret until it’s finished.

CHM – I am getting back to a novel I have started several times that blends historical, gay and paranormal, about a 10th century Cornish boy who “sees dead people”. The love interest is sort of his partner in crime investigation. Lots of colorful characters, a bit of satire, details of life at the time which is one of my favorites.

###

Excerpt from BELOVED PILGRIM by Christopher Hawthorne Moss

Meeting the Knights

Elias found himself embraced by a small cadre of knights a half generation his senior. He came to their attention one early morning as he and Albrecht practiced swordplay in the castle courtyard. Neither had noticed the gathering group, who watched as they matched blow for blow as they had with his brother not so very long before. They were startled when cheers rose from the sidelines, after a particularly hearty blow Elias landed with his sword on Albrecht’s teardrop-shaped shield cracked it in half.

A big man with a bushy black beard and likewise bushy black eyebrows sauntered over and put one hand on the shoulder of each combatant. “Well delivered, young Elias! And you, my friend, need a new shield. Without it, you are a sitting duck for whatever the paynim devils have in store for you!”

He introduced himself as Johannes Schwarzes-Tier, or “Black Beast.” His two companions were Alain de Bourges and Gerhardt von Regenheim. Alain offered to send his squire for an extra shield he had. “I would not wish your lord to be the loser for lack of your good right arm.”

While Albrecht and Renard, Alain’s squire, ran off to get the shield, Gerhardt, a smiling man with hair the color of burnished gold, deep-blue eyes, and part of his right ear missing, challenged Elias to a
bout with axes. The German knight got the better of Elias quickly, as he had never learned the technique of that particular weapon.

Gerhardt drawled, in his easygoing way, “Just remember that mighty crack you dealt to your squire’s shield. That’s how you manage a war axe. With well-aimed might. I will teach you.”

Alain suggested, “Peut-être the young man has more experience with a mace? Ah, I think he does!” he said, seeing Elias’s broad grin.

Alain’s mace was his practice mace, without the spikes he would want for killing. When one of the men standing about offered to lend Elias his battle mace, he started to protest, but Alain waved his concerns down. “I will give you that advantage, my friend.” Nevertheless, he eased Elias’s qualms by donning a thick-padded gambeson.

He and Elias squared off with several feet of ground between them. Elias knew how to use the weapon, though primarily for defense. The two moved toward each other, holding their maces with one hand low on the handle and the other cupped under the shaft, nearer the heavy iron head. Each tested the weapon’s balance by slapping its shaft onto that palm. The trick was to watch the opponent’s eyes to see where he was considering a blow. Elias managed to deflect Alain’s strike aimed at his right arm by getting the shaft of his own weapon up quickly enough to intercept the smooth round ball, though the weight of the blow shoved him back. He feinted, no mean trick with such a weighted weapon, and swung about to strike Alain’s thigh. Alain shouted with surprise. The site of the wound was under the padding, but nevertheless a small amount of blood ran down his leggings. He grinned and held his weapon out in front of him like a sword, danced back, and then forward so sharply that the round iron ball took Elias in the face. His nose erupted in blood. It was his first significant wound, but rather than cry out, he whooped with soggy pleasure.

“Look!” he cried, putting one glove to his streaming nose and reaching up to his mouth with the other, having dropped the mace. With triumph, he pulled out a tooth and held it aloft. “I lotht a toot!” he
crowed.

Blurb for BELOVED PILGRIM, 2nd Edition

By Christopher Hawthorne Moss

At the time of the earliest Crusades, young noblewoman Elisabeth longs to be the person she’s always known is hidden inside. When her twin brother perishes from a fever, Elisabeth takes his identity to live as a man, a knight. As Elias, he travels to the Holy Land, to adventure, passion, death, and a lesson that honor is sometimes found in unexpected places.

Elias must pass among knights and soldiers, survive furious battle, deadly privations, moral uncertainty, and treachery if he’ll have any chance of returning to his new-found love in the magnificent city of Constantinople.

Buy link:
http://harmonyinkpress.com/coming-soon-beloved-pilgrim-by-christopher-hawthorne-moss/

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The Bridge on the River Wye
by Adam Fitzroy

Blurb:

Chef Rupert’s picking up the pieces after a catastrophe; he’s lost his love, his business, his home and even his dog, and he’s trying to make a fresh start. Linking up with Jake almost on a whim he soon finds himself involved in a strange tale of organic farming, migrant workers, greed and even possibly murder – in the midst of which the attraction is still there, but Rupert’s not sure whether the feeling’s mutual or if he’s ready to try for a proper relationship again just yet …

70,000 words/256 pages
£3.75

Go here for an excerpt.

Available from Manifold Press.

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