Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention? Message or email me and we’ll set something up.
My guest this week is Alexa Milne and the book is Sporting Chance, which has the utterly winning combination of love, Wales and rugby. I have no idea how I missed this one when it came out!!
Blurb
Sometimes keeping hold of love is just as hard as finding it.
Dan and Iestyn are looking for romance. A school trip, a love of history, a wedding, a tango, the game of chess, and their friends and family all help the two men to realise that they’ve finally found true love with each other.
Iestyn thinks that he’s completely ordinary and that Dan is the only out and currently gay rugby player anywhere. Being gay can be difficult enough. Being famous also has its problems. But being gay, famous and a sportsman can make finding love complicated. So when Dan Morgan meets Iestyn Jones and gives him his phone number, their road ahead has more than a few bumps to overcome.
Will Iestyn and Dan overcome the obstacles thrown in their paths? Or will fame destroy their lives as well as their love?
He really should have looked where he was going and taken more care. It wasn’t that he meant to show off in front of the kids when they’d goaded him into demonstrating how he could skate backward. But that was how he found himself crashing into another body, a rather large male body, then scrabbling, unsuccessfully, to try to get himself up as he apologised. Iestyn heard the kids laughing. How the hell was he going to get up and retain some sort of dignity? Whose bloody idea had it been to come on this skating trip from school, and why had he volunteered to go? He heard a voice—a rather gorgeous lyrical voice—say something, but he wasn’t sure what. He found himself looking up into the face of the most handsome man he’d ever seen.
“Would you like some help getting up?” the vision said, holding out a hand.
Iestyn took the help offered and let the good-looking stranger pull him to his feet. He was shocked to find, when he’d stood up, that the man appeared to be significantly taller than his own nearly six feet.
“Thanks,” he said, brushing the ice from his trousers. He glanced over to find the kids staring at him. “What? You’ve seen a man fall over before, haven’t you? Even a teacher.”
But they just kept on staring at the man who had helped him up.
I asked Alexa for a recommendation and this is what she said:
The book I’m going to pick is The Salisbury Key by Harper Fox. This is one of the first mm books I read and I was lucky enough to win a signed copy in a competition. I enjoyed the story because it wasn’t a straight forward romance and it was set in Britain. Some might think the relationship between the two main characters moved too quickly, but for me they worked. The story involved solving a mystery as well as archaeology. The sex was well written – there, but not intrusive to the story. Overall, it was a great read.
At the age of 23, social worker, Jeya Wellington was pretty much on her own. The devastating loss of her parents left her bereft and alone. Her best friend, Roman and his family have been like surrogates, but they could never replace what she lost. She needed a different connection. Shortly after losing her parents, she finds love and comfort in the arms of Rayne Watson, a correctional officer.
Rayne was exactly what she needed at the time, but now, two years later, Jeya wants out. She never expected love to come with bruises. She didn’t anticipate losing friends and living in fear. This was not her idea of true love. With the support of Roman, Jeya finds a way to leave. But Rayne isn’t letting go that easily. They made a commitment to each, and she has the tattoo to prove it – ‘Til Death Do Us Part.
Torn between the love she has for Rayne and the instinct to protect herself, is Jeya’s will stronger than her vow?
Excerpt:
It’s over.
Two simple words, intended to signify the end, were instead just the beginning. Jeya took a deep breath, and the pain that pierced her side served as the reminder she needed. She hit the send button. Unexpected relief instantly washed over her. “I did it. Step one. Now for step two.” Jeya placed her phone on the bed and stood up to double-check her suitcase. Going over the checklist in her mind, she felt confident that she had the essentials. A week away from home required more than she’d anticipated, but she had no intention of returning until the rainstorm had passed. Jeya took a second to acknowledge the double entendre of the word. Her girlfriend, Rayne, was definitely a hurricane. Her temper was unpredictable and left damage in its wake similar to that which Hurricane Gloria had. She knew she’d be safer at Roman’s house for the next several days.
The lyrics to “Dangerously in Love” cursed the air. The perfect ringtone to describe her relationship. She braced herself as she walked to the bed and picked up the phone. Jeya anticipated nothing less than an explosive response from her short-tempered girlfriend.
Renee Cronin is a self-professed devour of knowledge, and a voracious reader. She began writing in earnest in 2005, when the characters in her head became so loud she was forced to tell their stories, or risk getting swept away into the abyss of her imagination. Renee has since used writing as a personal outlet to express her feelings, ideas, views, thoughts, and opinions about the world and the issues that impact her on a deep personal and societal level. (And of course writing also quiets the voices in her head of the many characters that are yearning to have their stories told.) Renee’s inspiration to publish is in large part due to the overwhelming display of encouragement, and support from family and friends, who believe she has a gift with words that need to be shared with world. Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, she works in the social work field avidly advocating and supporting the varied needs of the people in her community. Renee is a bibliophile with a transcendent love for words. Her soul yearns for the acoustic stylings from a plethora of musical genres. As she continues on this journey of published author she hopes to keep her readers captivated and pining for more.
We asked Renee for a picture that really meant something to her:
This is a picture of my fiancé and I at a WNBA game on Pride Night. It was a little over a month after we became engaged. We are huge WNBA fans and it awesome that they have Pride Night.
Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention?
This week I’m hosting an old friend, both book and author 🙂 When I started reading m/m I stuck very carefully to historicals only with just the occasional dip into other genres. Branded, then the two Gold Warrior books, was one of my first excursions out of my rather narrow little comfort zone 🙂 I really enjoyed the adventure and physicallity of it, and it was surprisingly sexy too [you have to bear in mind that I’m a bit tone deaf to erotica and things that have other people fanning themselves and demanding cold showers leave me scrolling on to find where the plot picks up again]. So this book is both fun and a great adventure and has recently been reissued as a one volume edition.
Blurb:
Maen is a Gold Warrior, an elite defender of Aza City, respected by his fellow soldiers and favored by his imperious Mistress for services both in and out of the bedchamber. His loyalty and commitment are unwavering until he recruits Dax, a captivating and challenging Bronzeman who, despite his youth and inexperience, seduces Maen with his fierce hero worship. When they’re captured by enemies of the City, Maen risks everything to save Dax: his position, his faith, and even his life. But he loses his lover to the rebels and upon his return to the City is stripped of his rank.
In Aza, where a soldier’s only lawful devotion is to the City and his Mistress’s pleasure, the disgraced Maen is placed under the watchful guard of the arrogant Gold Warrior Zander and relegated to preparing a Royal History for the new Queen. But his discoveries cast a new and shocking light on the past and threaten to stir revolution in both citizens and rebels. With the help of the lively and inquisitive scribe Kiel, Maen initiates a chain of events that will change their world forever—and offer him the chance to regain both his honor and his heart’s desire.
Bio:
Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy.
Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
I read this story many years ago, but it lingers in my mind as a breath of fresh, vibrant air. It’s a sophisticated blend of murder mystery, the study of amnesia, and the broken relationship between two passionate men. There are no concessions to a romantic trope in sight, and the men are emotionally apart for much of the book. It’s ambitious in that it covers many years of their lives, both together and apart, through flashback and current events. It doesn’t shy away from depicting characters with a realistic, pragmatic and sympathetic range of flaws. They love, they care, they’re rash, they make mistakes both mild and major, they’re in pain for a lot of the book. Good grief, I can feel my throat closing in empathetic tension, just thinking about re-reading it!
That said, please stick with it! Through the anguish comes reward, for the characters and the readers. It’s the perfect mix for me: the struggle that makes the story a real life tale, but with the hope and eventual restitution that can be created in fiction. And blended with a well-drawn cop mystery? I was in heaven!
The prose is rich and rewarding, the dialogue excellently and plausibly drawn for all and every character, primary or secondary. I literally was hanging onto each word to find out what came next. And I was rooting for everyone’s peace and reconciliation, whatever their stumbling along the way.
I was even inspired to review on Goodreads, a rare event for me, Ms Lazy :D.
“A depth and richness that I haven’t found in a book for a long while. Anguished relationship, quirky and poignant use of the memory loss, sexy characters, lovely descriptions of and compassion for the characters’ development and redemption. Good pace, evocative settings.”
Thanks for the opportunity to revisit this title. I even discovered there’s another book in the same setting, but it doesn’t seem to be freely available at the moment. I’m off on the quest right now!
I am ridiculously British. To the point where even in my writing, it is glaringly apparent that I have spent the vast majority of my life on this damp cluster of rocks in the middle of a not especially welcoming sea. I even have, when I’m being all posh and shit, a BBC accent.
No prizes for guessing my writing’s like that too.
I am also bred from northern slum stock: my father remembers being moved out of the tenements after his four-year-old sister jumped out of bed and landed in the flat downstairs. Having more than two types of vegetable in a meal is ‘fancy’ and any meal without meat is a disappointing snack. And the only acceptable foreign food is curry.
The majority of me, including my author voice, stems from this upbringing. I don’t write the millionaire-meets-the-hooker trope, because a romance between the local drug dealer and a copper’s son is infinitely more interesting to me, especially the characters that would have to be involved. I love every minute of Red Dwarf, because the hero is a Scouser space bum who spends his existence playing the guitar (badly), riding around the ship on a dirty space bike (badly), and point-blank refusing to admit that his crewmates are his friends (badly). Because, you know, blokes. Not good at this emotional stuff.
Being British, I would never say ‘I love you.’ The nearest might be, ‘Yeah, well, you’re alright, I suppose.’ I would also never say ‘I hate you’ – that is measured on the scale from ‘he’s a bit of a knob’ to ‘he’s an absolute fucking cunt.’ The sentiment is there, but the words aren’t.
And that makes writing in a British voice both very difficult, and very fun. You’re massively open to misinterpretation of what you and your characters mean. What is affectionate between two British lads can often be viewed as rude, aggressive, hostile or even violent by outsiders. Show and not tell becomes not just a writing tip, but a writing necessity if you want your readers to follow the story, like the right characters, or even recognise subplots for what they are. It’s bloody hard, old bean.
But if you are like those lads, it can be very funny to watch the outsider struggling with what in the hell to do when they can’t read the situation. I’ve seen plenty of people on my Facebook struggling when I and another Brit – or even I and some of the most awesome non-Brits who really get this shit – start sounding off at each other. One of my oldest friends is a lad from Iowa with an intensely British sense of humour, and I’ve lost count of the number of times people have been thrown by our rude, aggressive, and very friendly and entertaining slanging matches. It’s hilarious, in a vicious little way, and something I do enjoy triggering on boring Sunday evenings.
It might not look like it but everyone’s having so much fun!
With Spy Stuff, I had an opportunity you might not expect out of a transgender character: I got to channel that entertainment.
Sure, Anton is firm in his identity as a boy. He knows what he is. But he’s also very new to other people identifying him as a boy. Because social transition isn’t just a transition in how a person presents themselves but, as a natural consequence, how others treat them. And as we all remember from being kids ourselves, boys and girls often act very differently in the presence of the other. So Anton’s a bit lost when it comes to the other boys for a while – is this friendly? Is this okay to join in with? Is he going to react in a way a girl might, and be teased or even found out for it?
And as the writer, I have to say, I enjoyed the shit out of those scenes: Anton watching warily from the sidelines while a personality smorgasbord of madcap British kids went for each other for…well, no real reason. From the habitual book-throwing at each other in morning registration to the technique of expressing happiness at the football results by jumping on each other, Anton is initially hesitant to join in for fear of reading the situation wrong, and being caught out.
In doing so, I found I’d managed to show one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from my own experience in transitioning: sometimes, acceptance won’t be found in the crowd with rainbow flags on their profile pictures and who can recite the entire alphabet soup…but rather in the daft, insulting, aggressive, volatile clusters of idiots who don’t damn well care what you are, as long as you don’t support Manchester United.
About the Book
Anton never thought anyone would ever want to date him. Everyone knows nobody wants a transgender boyfriend, right? So he’s as shocked as anyone when seemingly-straight Jude Kalinowski asks him out, and doesn’t appear to be joking.
The only problem is … well, Jude doesn’t actually know.
Anton can see how this will play out: Jude is a nice guy, and nice guys finish last. And Anton is transgender, and transgender people don’t get happy endings. If he tells Jude, it might destroy everything.
Matthew is an asexual, transgender author dragged up in the wet and windy British Isles. He currently lives and works in West Yorkshire, and has a special fondness for writing the rough-edged British working class society in which he grew up — warts and all.
He roams mainly on Twitter and Facebook, has a free fiction page, runs a blog chronicling his own transition from female to male, and has a website. His young adult backlist can be found on his JMS Books author page. And as a last resort, he can also be contacted at mattmetzger@hotmail.co.uk.
An Excerpt from Spy Stuff
Anton slowly relaxed as Jude started to brighten up and just … talk. Jude chattering, Anton was starting to realise, was a sign that everything was alright. And Anton desperately wanted it to be, so he simply clung on to Jude’s hand — even though it was raining outside, and really too cold to not be wearing gloves — and let the noise wash over him all the way home.
Which meant, when he let them into the house and the smell of Aunt Kerry’s drunk spag bol invaded their clothes, Anton was … actually in kind of a good mood. Maybe he could do this. Maybe Jude would listen, even if in the end he still decided dating a trans guy wasn’t for him? There was a chance, right?
So when Lily appeared in the doorway, took one look at Jude, and screamed, Anton laughed.
“What the hell!” Jude yelped as she tore back into the kitchen.
“She’s –”
“Mummy, Anton’s friend’s on fire in the hall!”
“– kinda weird.”
“No shi — er, hell?”
“Just ignore her,” Anton advised, hanging up their coats. A nervous swoop made itself known when Jude grinned and kissed his ear, but he laughed it off and pushed him in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get us drinks or something.”
“It’s your house,” Jude said, but wandered off obediently. Anton took a moment to simply breathe before following him.
Lily had firmly decided — despite having seen Jude before and not having really clocked his hair — that Jude was on fire, and Anton had to wrestle a cup of water away from her before it ended up on Jude’s head.
“Nooo, give it back!” she wailed, stretching up to grab his belt as he put the cup in the sink and rummaged in the fridge for Cokes.
“Yeah, Anton, give it back. I might start melting the counter,” Jude said, sliding onto one of the stools at the island counters. Aunt Kerry, busy with dinner, simply chuckled at the both of them.
“You’re being mean!” Lily yelled, stamping her foot, then turned on Jude, skidding across the tiles to grab at his trousers. “You need a fireman!”
“It’s always that colour,” Jude said in a serious voice, but he was wearing an ear-splitting grin, and Anton’s heart clenched hard at the sheer beauty of him, despite the battered face.
“No, it’s on fire!”
“No it’s not,” Jude said. “It’s ginger.”
“That’s not ginger, ginger biscuits are ginger!”
“They’re brown.”
“If they’re brown,” Lily said seriously, “then why are they called ginger biscuits, huh?”
“Because they have ginger in them.”
“Which makes them ginger and that’s not ginger and you’re on fire!”
“Lily, leave Jude alone,” Aunt Kerry interjected.
“Jew?”
Jude dropped his head onto the counter with a muffled cackle into both hands, and Anton couldn’t help but laugh at sight of him. “Oh God,” he said. “Come on, let’s go into the living room, and –”
“Noooo, you can’t, he’ll put the living room on fire!”
“Lily, seriously, stop it with the fire, he’s not on fire.”
“Jew!” she screeched, and Jude did a full body twitch like he was trying not to curl in on himself. “Jew!”
“Jude!” Anton corrected.
“Jude,” she echoed scornfully, throwing Anton a fabulously dirty look for a kid who wasn’t even six yet. “Jude!”
“What?” Jude managed, coughing and rubbing at his eyes, still grinning.
“Tell Tasha to stop it!”
Anton froze. Like a bucket of ice water being dumped on his head, every muscle seized up, and the Coke in the cans started rattling in his shaking hands. “Lily! Stop it!” Aunt Kerry barked, but Jude — oh God, Jude, totally oblivious Jude —
“Okay,” he said. “Who’s Tasha?”
Lily blinked, then flung her arm out, and pointed right at Anton. “Anton’s Tasha,” she said, like it was so obvious.
“Lily, that’s eno –”
“Anton was Natasha only then she became Anton and Mummy says I have to say he but I forget sometimes,” Lily continued in a loud, inescapable voice. It bounced off the walls and tiles, and one of the cans slipped through Anton’s hands and burst open on the floor. Coke was flung everywhere in long, fizzy bursts, soaking his socks and trousers, and through Lily’s indignant shriek and Aunt Kerry’s yell, all he could see was — was —
Jude.
The wide-eyed, confused stare that Jude was giving him. And the single word, that word, the word Anton hated.
“Natasha?”
Anton opened his mouth, found nothing coming up to save him, and did the only thing possible.
Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention? Message or email me and we’ll set something up.
My guest today is Alex Beecroft and I’d like to show a little love for her fantastic fantasy series Under the Hill. These two substantial books actually form one continuous very long novel so buy both and set time aside to wallow. Peopled with a band of very memorable characters, immersed in the beauty an perils of British folklore and with heroes I could really root for, these books were just about my favourites of the year of their issue. Great stuff.
The faeries at the bottom of the garden are coming back—with an army.
Fight a fire-breathing dragon with a wooden airplane? It’ll take a madman…
Check out the series links for the blurbs.
Bio:
Alex Beecroft was born in Northern Ireland during the Troubles and grew up in the wild countryside of the English Peak District. She studied English and Philosophy before accepting employment with the Crown Court where she worked for a number of years.Now a stay-at-home mum and full time author, Alex lives with her husband and two children in a little village near Cambridge and tries to avoid being mistaken for a tourist.
Alex is only intermittently present in the real world.She has lead a Saxon shield wall into battle, toiled as a Georgian kitchen maid, and recently taken up an 800 year old form of English folk dance, but she still hasn’t learned to operate a mobile phone.
Alex writes queer romance – that is, her main characters are typically gay, bisexual, transgender, pansexual or asexual men. Best known for historicals, she also writes Fantasy/SF and contemporary romance.
She is represented by Louise Fury of the Bent Agency.
I asked Alex for a recommendation and this is what she said:
Bone Rider by J Fally as my backlist book. It’s a really original sci-fi thriller in which a young man fleeing from his Russian Mafia lover accidentally bonds with some sentient alien armour and then has to spend most of the book fleeing from the army as well. The concept is great fun, the action is breathless and the heat level is scorching.
Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention? Message or email me and we’ll set something up.
My guest this week is R J Scott and I want to show a little love for her backlist title The Gallows Tree. This is a gentle romance with an American adrift in the green peace of England, an historic house in need of restoration and a creepy paranormal twist. Great fun with a few little chills.
Blurb:
Cody Garret is only just finding his way after an abusive relationship ended with his ex in prison. Coming to England to restore Mill Cottage is his way of running so he has time to heal. His goal is simple-hire a company to help make the mill cottage saleable then go back to the States.
What he doesn’t count on is meeting Sebastian Toulson-Brown, the brother of his contractor and the man who may be able to show him he can stop running.
But first Cody and Sebastian must deal with the ghosts of lost loves and the destinies that are woven into the story of the mill and the sycamore trees that stand on its land, one of which might be the gallows tree.
Excerpt:
Lower Ferrers. Please drive carefully.
A big speed sign with a 30 in the middle and another warning for horses sat directly under, and he immediately lifted his foot off the gas until he was driving at more like half what the limit was. He wanted to remember every image of the next few minutes of his life. He had finally arrived at the place his mom’s gran, his own great-gran, had left at the end of the war as a Yankee bride. The long curve of the road ran through dense trees that formed an arch of fall golds and browns over his head, and then suddenly, the village was laid out in front of him.
He couldn’t just drive in. He needed to stop and think about this final step. What if this was all wrong? This could be the worst decision of his life. What the hell did he know about renovation? He indicated and pulled off to the side of the road just past the signs and onto a widening in the narrow road next to a gate into fields. This was the England his great-gran had spoken about.
The village was stunning. Beautiful. Old houses with crooked roof lines staggered drunkenly up the road all built in a soft weathered brown and gray stone. Each had a chimney and seemingly randomly placed windows. Cody counted six of these cottage-style houses and above them the top of twisted chimneys on a far grander building. Great oaks and sycamore trees, now with leaves of fall gold and red, towered over the cottages and the twisting road that followed their path upwards. Cody listed adjectives in his head. This was much better than green. This was an idyllic, picture-postcard place, and it was everything he had ever been told about this English village. On the opposite side of the road was a larger dwelling, and he saw the sign outside that proclaimed it as the Ferrers’ Arms.
The inn with the slate roof was where he was staying with an open-ended booking. He didn’t know how long his stay would be. It could be a month or it could be the full six months. When he moved on depended on so many factors, not least of which was having somewhere to move to. He had a strange feeling inside, and he realized it was a sudden and renewed sense of enthusiasm.
Panic and fear still clung tight in his chest, but his breathing was steady, and the sounds of the village—sheep in the field, horses, birds—and the perfect stillness of the fall sky was utter peace. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. One minute he had been on the highway to hell, and within an hour, he was in the quiet and calm of a village that had been here for centuries. What was it people said? Stepping back in time or something like that. Standing here it certainly felt like he was entering another world.
Was it possible that by his arrival here in the village where his family had roots he was taking a controlled step away from his past rather than running blindly?
Bio:
My goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.
I’ve has been writing since age six, when I was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies and the mixing bowl. You can’t tell a six year old not to lick the bowl!
I was told to write a story and two sides of paper about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born.
As an avid reader myself, I can be found reading anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror. However, my first real true love will always be the world of romance. I love my cowboys, bodyguards, firemen and billionaires (to name a few) and love to write dramatic and romantic stories of love and passion between these men. (Yum)
With over 90 titles to my name and counting, I am the author of the award winning book, The Christmas Throwaway, which was All Romance Ebooks best selling title of 2010.
I’m also known for the Texas series charting the lives of Riley and Jack, and the Sanctuary series following the work of the Sanctuary Foundation and the people it protects.
I’m always so thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the following links below:
Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention? Message or email me and we’ll set something up.
My choice this week is the terrific magical steam punk novel, Mongrel by K Z Snow. It has everything – a well realised yet eerie world peopled with characters of surpassing oddness and plot, so much plot. Even the most sympathetic inhabitants of this world have flaws, even the most unpleasant have hidden depths. And the language – oh wow. I loved it to bits and, best of all, it’s the first of a series that are now being issued as a bundle. Really worth a go.
Blurb:
Hunzinger’s Mechanical Circus, a rollicking seaside carnival where imagination meets machinery, shines as the only bright spot in the dreary city of Purinton. A shadow is cast there one day when a tall, cloaked figure approaches the stand of Will Marchman, a young patent-medicine salesman. Fanule Perfidor, commonly known as the Dog King, isn’t welcome at the Circus. No resident of Taintwell is; they’re all Branded Mongrels, officially shunned. But Will is beguiled by the stunning, mysterious Perfidor. Their mutual wariness soon gives way to desire, and a bond forms.Soon the naive but plucky pitchman becomes embroiled in a dangerous quest. Fanule suspects Alphonse Hunzinger and Purinton’s civic leaders are responsible for the disappearance or incarceration of countless Branded Mongrels. But why? As Will’s passion and regard for his tormented lover grow, he’s determined to help Fanule get answers and prevent any further persecution… or worse. They just have to stay together-and stay alive long enough-to see their plan through.
Excerpt:
CLOUDS the color of soiled wool and urine threaded past a gibbous moon. The atmosphere may have produced them but the city had tinted them.
For Fanule Perfidor, the city was too close. Lying just to the west, that packed jumble of flaking bricks, weathered clapboards, and belching chimneys was a gritty distraction. Fanule sensed the pulse of life there. When the mania seized him, as it had tonight, he craved the city’s humid crush of bodies, the revelry that made them sweat and steam.
Wind slithered in from the sea and caught Fanule’s cloak, turning it, he imagined, into a black sail fluttering on a sturdy mast. He was a ghost ship plying moonlit seas and portending doom. He was at the mercy of the wind yet he was one with the wind.
He was a freak of nature and a force of nature. Perfidor, the Dog King. The epithet and the image it conjured made him laugh aloud.
The air’s agitation suited his mood. He strode rather than strolled down the boardwalk, his boot heels thudding with satisfying aggression on the planks. The crowd had thinned, but the remaining visitors made a wide berth around Fanule. Their aversion both amused and annoyed him. He considered sucking the light from the white globes atop the lampposts, just to see the silly humans’ reactions.
No, no, no. Can’t play. Must stay on task. Gods, look at that man’s legs; they could bind a body better than tarred rope! And then… no, must stay on task. But where to start? Where, where, where?
Fanule’s gaze darted along the overdone facades of the buildings he passed, all strung together like a lineup of gaudy, aging whores. Colorful pennants snapped above their roofs. How absurd to have elaborate cornices and quatrefoil windows, little gargoyles and square cupolas on structures so squat, so grayed by the hammering salt of sea spray. But, he supposed, fancy was the stuff of Hunzinger’s Mechanical Circus, the permanent carnival that stretched along and beyond the boardwalk and included whatever attractions were tucked behind those fancy fronts.
Look at the signs; look past the blazing and burnt-out bulbs and read the signs.
You can find the bundle here. K Z Snow can be followed on Twitter and Facebook.
My guest today is Hans Hirschi who has very kindly agreed to answer a few questions about his latest release Jonathan’s Promise. Don’t forget to scroll down for the rest of the blog tour schedule, excerpts and a link to a very generous Rafflecopter giveaway! But first the interview.
Welcome Hans.
The first time I interviewed you was in 2013 just before the release of your first published novel. Has your writing process changed much since then?
First, thank you Elin, for hosting me again. The most accurate answer would probably be a cautious yes. When I wrote Family Ties, quickly followed by Jonathan’s Hope, all in the space of five weeks, I had no idea what I was doing, what the whole writing process in the literary space was like. I had only written non-fiction prior to that date. So from a “crafts” process, I’ve learned a lot, from my editors, my publisher.
My writing process, in terms of the artistic aspects is still largely the same. Yes, I may plot a little bit more from a conscious point of view, e.g. knowing from the get go how Jonathan’s Promise would end. However, I still begin with an image in my mind and let the characters run with it, and I’m still the first reader seeing the story unfold in front of my eyes, with all that entails in terms of laughter, sorrow and the odd surprise I wasn’t prepared for.
How do you sustain the same tone for a character from book to book, especially when taking time off between to write other stories?
I hadn’t even considered this, honestly. First of all, I don’t write series, so Jonathan’s Promise was never even on the radar. When the boys came back, and I finally gave in and began to write, I was challenged with a timing question: when do I return? Do I return to a time after Jonathan’s father’s funeral (the end of the story), or do I return to the end of the book, after the epilogue, which is sixty years later. In the end, I did the latter, and the Jonathan’s Promise picks up around the time of the epilogue, so Jonathan is an old man, no longer an eighteen year old. So, to finally answer your question, it wasn’t a big thing, old men don’t really speak like their young selves, but to make sure I used the same terms of endearment within the couple’s conversations etc. I made sure to re-read Jonathan’s Hope. Turns out, my subconscious has a much better memory than my conscious mind does.
Now you are established in the genre do you have any advice for new writers? Is there any thing you wish that someone had told you?
There are a lot of things I wish I had known back then. I write gay fiction with a genre I’d call LGBT fiction, where the vast majority of people write gay romance. I usually feel like something the cat’s dragged in. However, even as someone who doesn’t write romance novels, I’ve been very warmly accepted by my peers, and I’m really grateful for that reception. I would’ve loved to have known about all those conventions back in 2013. I didn’t learn “that” lesson until a year later, and I missed out, because I’ve come to understand that much of a writer’s success in the industry lies in old-fashioned mouth-to-mouth propaganda, recommendations. And the readers who we meet at cons, the ones we form relationships with and with whom we communicate on social media in between the cons, they have huge networks and influence many people around them. I lost a good year there. Then again, I didn’t know what animal I was, and I had no real clue about what was out there, even though I had read a lot of books. I just didn’t connect the dots. Talking to colleagues has helped. So that would be my tip: talk to colleagues in the industry. It’s been my experience that authors are extremely helpful creatures! 🙂
What are you working on now? Can you tell us a bit about it?
I don’t have a WIP right now. I just sent a manuscript to one of my editors, a collection of LGBT shorts, very literary. We’ll see how I use those stories. The next project are my cons. After every book release, there’s lots of marketing work, and Jonathan’s Promise will be followed by Jonathan’s Legacy in the fall, the final piece in this unexpected trilogy. Once my publisher sends me back the edits, my work starts again, going through those and cleaning it up for publication. I have no writing plans right now, which is “odd”, but I tick differently than most others. I need to clean my head from an ongoing project before I can focus on something else. Once an image pops up, I’ll know if it holds up for a novel…
Can we have an excerpt please?
Sure. This scene shows us a glimpse of Jonathan’s “morning routine”. It doesn’t give away too much of the plot. After all, I want you to read it! 😉
“Jonathan woke up early the next morning. Outside, the night had not yet given up its daily rule, clinging on for all it had, growing stronger with the approaching winter solstice. Jonathan looked at his watch. Six a.m.? If only I could sleep a little longer. He got up and went through to the large en suite bathroom to relieve himself. He had to smile inwardly as he thought about how his body was falling apart for every year he got older. Even peeing was becoming a bit of a challenge, and he had to get up more than once during the night, feeling as if he’d drunk a couple of pints of beer. It’s just not fair.
But it was what it was, and there was nothing he could do. At least he didn’t have prostate troubles the way Dan had. Thankful for small mercies, eh? He looked up at the ceiling, shaking the last drops from his dick before flushing the toilet and washing his hands. He put on a robe and walked slowly downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee! I need coffee.”
Excerpt From: Hans M Hirschi. “Jonathan’s Promise.” iBooks.
TITLE: Jonathan’s Promise
SERIES: Jonathan
Trilogy: Book Two
AUTHOR:
Hans M. Hirschi
PUBLISHER: Beaten
Track Publishing
COVER
ARTIST: Natasha Snow
LENGTH:
214 Pages
RELEASE
DATE: March 31, 2016
BLURB:
Jonathan made Dan a promise – a promise that will affect the remainder of his
life. But what does he have left to live for?
When their grandson
Parker and his fiancé Cody move in with him, the three of them embark on a
journey to shed light on Dan’s roots.
A heart-warming sequel
to Jonathan’s Hope, Jonathan’s Promise deals with aging and the ultimate
consequences of wedding vows. Are we entitled to a second shot at happiness?
When is ‘for worse’ too much to handle?
In
this trilogy:
Jonathan’s Hope (Book
1)
Jonathan’s Promise
(Book 2)
Jonathan’s Legacy (Book 3)
“Jon?”
“Yes, Hon, what is it?”
“I’m tired.”
“I know. Just rest. You
need your strength for tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure I want to…”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just not sure it’s
worth it, Jon…” Dan started to cough. Jonathan rose from his chair at his
husband’s bedside to offer him some water, gently lifting and holding Dan’s
head while he took down the cool, soothing liquid.
When the coughing
eased, Dan patted Jonathan’s hand. He waited until Jonathan was seated before
he spoke further. “Thanks. I’m old, hon. And I’m tired. I’ve lived a long and
rich life, and you know what the doctor said. There’s only a very small chance
the surgery will help. The tumor’s already metastasized, and even with chemo
I’ll die sooner rather than later. Maybe it’s better to just get it over with.”
Jonathan began to cry,
tumbling forward in his despair. His head came to a rest on his husband’s
chest. They’d been a couple for so many years―six decades. How would he go on without
Dan’s strength? How could he survive without the man who’d saved his life?
“Hon, don’t worry about
me. I need you now, probably more than ever. I need to know you’ll stay strong
for the kids. They need you.”
Dan’s words began to
slur and his eyes closed. Even talking took so much effort. When he was sure
Dan was asleep, Jonathan left their bedroom and went downstairs, out to the back
patio, where he left the crisp, fresh fall air to dry the tears on his face. He
was tired, too. Dan’s cancer had come back. They’d thought he’d beaten it, but
the last screening showed the dark shadows in his bones and his lungs. After
three years of clear results, it had come completely out of the blue, and the doctor
said that it had also spread to other areas of the body.
That was just a few days
ago, and Dan had accepted the news with equanimity. He had made peace with
himself and the world around him when the cancer had first been diagnosed in his
prostate. Back then, there was still a sparkle in Dan’s eyes, a determination
to fight this, a will to survive. But at ninety years of age, Dan was tired,
and Jonathan knew―or rather he felt―that his husband was done. And he
understood, but that did not diminish the pain, the despair. Yes, he’d be
strong for the kids, the grandkids, but who’d look after him? Who’d make sure
he survived?
I’m an author. I write books. I write about things that are important to me: family, parenting, children, our environment, our world. Contemporary, fresh fiction with happy endings. It’s what I like to read myself. I write because I don’t have a choice. There are so many stories in my head, constantly forming, constantly trying to get out. Feel free to have a look on the other pages to learn more, listen to me narrate from those stories, and – if you like what you see or hear – follow the links to buy the books. I’d greatly appreciate that, as this is how I try to make my living.
I’m an author. But I’m also a forty something male who clings to the illusion of still being twenty-seven, despite my body’s daily reminders to the contrary. I’m married to the most amazing man, and together we have a beautiful son, Sascha. I consider myself a citizen of the world, having lived on two continents and traveled extensively through another three. I have friends all over the world. When I’m not writing, I like to do public speaking or training (where I have my professional background) to actually earn some real bill-paying money. Not sure this author thing is ever going to get me there…
Sometimes it’s really worth checking out backlists. There are some marvellous books out there but with hundreds of new titles every week it can be very hard to find them. Authors – have you got a title a year or more old that could do with a little love? Readers – have you got a favourite book that you think deserves some attention? Message or email me and we’ll set something up.
My guest this week is Sue Roebuck and I’m going to be showing a bit of love for her absorbing story Perfect Score. Starting in the 1960s and spanning over 20 years, the story of spoiled rich kid Alex and his connection to working guy Sam is complex and absorbing, with many challenges to face including marriage, separation and sickness, before they achieve their happy ending.
Blurb:
Feckless, exasperating Alex Finch is a rich, handsome and talented singer/songwriter who longs for two things: a career as a professional rock singer, and to have his love for Sam Barrowdale reciprocated. But drifter Sam’s two aims are simply to earn enough money to pay his sister’s medical bills and to hide from the world his reading/writing and speech disability. At this time the word “dyslexia” is generally unknown so to most people he’s just a “retard.” From the severe knocks life’s dealt him, Sam’s developed a tough outer coating and he has no time for a spoilt, selfish guitar player. Despite his defects, Alex’s love for Sam never wavers and when Sam unexpectedly disappears, Alex begins a somewhat bungling quest to find him, only to discover that Sam has a fearful enemy: Alex’s powerful and influential yet sociopathic uncle. As Alex spirals downwards towards alcoholism, many questions need answering. Just why did Alex’s evil uncle adopt him at age eleven yet deny him any affection? And what’s the mystery behind Alex’s father’s death? Both seem to face unbeatable odds. Are they doomed to follow separate paths forever?
Born and raised in the UK, but now living in Portugal, I’m a published author who is also addicted to reading beautiful books. My mind’s always a-bubble with ideas for new books.
As usual I asked Sue to recommend a book that she had found particularly memorable:
“I would like to recommend Alex Beecroft’s Shining in the Sun. I loved her contrasting main characters (a bit DH Lawrence…ish) with the upper class toff who hasn’t “come out” and the lovely golden-haired surfer who couldn’t come out any further if he tried. They were such memorable characters.”
Damn it, a man shouldn’t always have to be afraid-
Alec Goodchilde has everything a man could want-except the freedom to be himself. Once a year, he motors down to an exclusive yacht club on the Cornish coast and takes the summer off from the trap that is his life.
When his car breaks down, leaving him stranded on the beach, he’s transfixed by the sight of a surfer dancing on the waves. The man is summer made flesh. Freedom wrapped up in one lithe package, dripping wet from the sea.
Once a year, Darren Stokes takes a break from his life of grinding overwork and appalling relatives, financing his holiday by picking up the first rich man to show an interest. This year, though, he’s cautious-last summer’s meal ticket turned out to be more pain than pleasure.
Even though Alec is so deep in the closet he doesn’t even admit he’s gay, Darren finds himself falling hard-until their idyllic night together is shattered by the blinding light of reality.
When V’s life crumbles around her, she has two options: let it take her down with it or dive straight in
Virginia “V” Dunn is alone when her dog is hit by a car. Lucky’s back leg is shattered, and when she comforts him, his blood is wet on her hands. Suddenly, the monotony of V’s suburban life dissolves: Lucky is in a cast; her best friend, Eileen, is avoiding her; her mother’s drinking is getting worse; and her father is sick with a mysterious illness. Although V is surrounded by family, she is the loneliest girl in town.
As V begins to question everything—death, friendship, family, betrayal—she finds there are few easy answers. The people she thought she knew are strangers, and life’s meaning eludes her. Into this mystery walks the captivating Jane, and V soon realizes that the only way forward seems to break every rule, and go beyond all limitations.
Excerpt:
Sometimes the night never ends; it just breaks into light and we pretend. I am alive, though I tend to forget that when I’m pretending, and I’m fifteen. I have sweeping dark hair and hazel eyes that turn green when I cry. Sometimes I rub my hands together, maybe just to see if it’s really me. I wear the glasses I’m supposed to wear when I’m in the mood and when- ever I remember my sunglasses because the day hurts my eyes. Maybe the pretending has torn the edges of who I am, so the result is a frayed and sensitive me.
If the night never ends, who can see? The day boils down to pretending what is and is not there. Because she does not want me to, I do not see the black eye on my mother’s face as the bruise changes, fades a blotchy red to a tattered purple, then spreads to flat green.
Because he assumes nobody does, I do not see the increasingly bloodshot eyes of my brother as he stares past me at dinner. And I do not see the raised eyebrows on Baby Teeth’s face that settle more frequently into surprise as she watches and help-lessly learns this pretending game. I wish I could tell her she doesn’t have to play, though if she’s to survive life in this house, she will.
So I do not notice that on the days that we do not go to the hospital, she spends every afternoon at other people’s houses now. And I especially do not see the absence of my father at dawn when he does not kiss the sleeping Baby Teeth good-bye before he climbs down the stairs in his solid brown shoes and goes to work. And I do not see his absence as I pass his empty chair at night when I walk into the kitchen to feed my dog. The last thing I do not see is my tilting, limping Lucky as he waits by his empty bowl, or the image of the vile green VW that hit him.
So what do I see? That I have learned to pretend so well, I can do it with my eyes open. April has ended, and its cruelty too, I hope, when we weren’t looking, or were busy pretending, or maybe while we slept.
So it’s May. And what does it bring? April showers bring May flowers. Well, really. I try to remember, uncertainly, if there was a lot of rain last month. No. But please flower anyway, all over me. I’ll keep my eyes open. Maybe it won’t happen all at once, the way change seems to. Now that’s something. Change blooms.
Bio:
Stacey Donovan is a critically acclaimed author of fiction and nonfiction for adults and young adults. She is the founder of Donovan Edits, and has edited or ghostwritten more than twenty-five books, including three New York Times bestsellers and several nonfiction titles that have become leading works in their respective fields. Donovan lives in New York, where she continues to write and edit.
The book I’m going to pick is The Salisbury Key by Harper Fox. This is one of the first mm books I read and I was lucky enough to win a signed copy in a competition. I enjoyed the story because it wasn’t a straight forward romance and it was set in Britain. Some might think the relationship between the two main characters moved too quickly, but for me they worked. The story involved solving a mystery as well as archaeology. The sex was well written – there, but not intrusive to the story. Overall, it was a great read.
Author Name: Renee Cronin
I am ridiculously British. To the point where even in my writing, it is glaringly apparent that I have spent the vast majority of my life on this damp cluster of rocks in the middle of a not especially welcoming sea. I even have, when I’m being all posh and shit, a BBC accent.
My goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.
My guest today is Hans Hirschi who has very kindly agreed to answer a few questions about his latest release Jonathan’s Promise. Don’t forget to scroll down for the rest of the blog tour schedule, excerpts and a link to a very generous Rafflecopter giveaway! But first the interview. 
Stacey Donovan is a critically acclaimed author of fiction and nonfiction for adults and young adults. She is the founder of Donovan Edits, and has edited or ghostwritten more than twenty-five books, including three New York Times bestsellers and several nonfiction titles that have become leading works in their respective fields. Donovan lives in New York, where she continues to write and edit.
Elin Gregory 