Friday, March 28, 2014

Tease Me Thursday: Love's Landscapes Story

For this week’s Tease Me Thursday, I thought it would be fun to post a snippet from a free story I’m writing for the GoodReads M/M Romance group event, Love’s Landscapes.

In this bit, marketing ace Sean Whelan, who has been kicked to the curb by his business partner, tells his mother he has taken a menial job at Dippolito’s Italian Bakery.

~~~~~~~

“A bakery?” It was amazing how Sean’s mother’s voice managed to convey so many negative impressions in two words. It was a gift.

“An Italian bakery.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re Irish. And you stopped eating pastry when you started that running thing you do. Are you still running?”

“Yes, Mom. This is a job, a way to get out of the house and make a little cash. I’ll be decorating cakes.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“Are you doing this because you’re gay?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Comments welcome! Questions answered.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Sealed in Stone #30

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week.

I’m continuing with Sealed in Stone, M/M science fiction about Torrey and Willem, two human youths who love each other but must fight to stay together when Torrey becomes the Chosen of the alien Queen who rules over his people.

In this chapter, Torrey and Willem learn the outcome of the queen war. [Author note: I added a hanging to conceal the tunnel. I accidentally cut that detail when trimming down my word count last week.]

This week I chose: “Who is that?”  


Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sealed in Stone #30


“Oh. Fuck.” Blood, so much blood. Blood like a carpet. Bodies like stones. Willem tried to pull Torrey back into the tunnel, behind the hanging they’d had to push aside, but the other youth pushed past him and all but pulled him out of the opening. The corridor around them was silent.

“They’re not all Cyrrhi’s.” Torrey sounded terrified, but he seemed to be thinking clearly. His gaze skipped from warrior to warrior, seeing details Willem missed. All he saw was the blood and the gaping wounds, severed limbs and tangled entrails. “Another queen gained entrance.”

“Through the tunnel?”

“No.”

“Let’s go back.” Willem didn’t like this place. Too much blood, too much death, and it stank of the nomari.

Torrey shook his head. His lips trembled a little and Willem wanted so much to kiss away the fear, but when he tried to draw Torrey close, he met with resistance. “Willem—”

“Maybe they won’t find us.”

“You’re not thinking straight. Of course they will! They’ll find the tunnel, or break the door. There’s no way out, not for us. Don’t you see?”

“Of course I do. But I’m scared.” The situation Torrey described sounded hopeless.

“So am I. We can’t go back. We have to find out who won. If we go back, if we wait, we will be found anyway and we will look weak and worthless.” Torrey gave Willem a weak smile. “We don’t have much leverage.”

“Looks to me we don’t have any.”

“But we do. We are human and male. Warriors won’t kill us. They don’t kill males unless in the heat of battle or if ordered to do so by a queen.” He grabbed Willem’s arm and nodded toward a cadre of spear brandishing warriors just emerging around a bend a few yards away. “Whoever won this war, they will take us to Her. Do what I do. Be strong. And if you can, let me answer all questions.”

* * * *

The Queen’s audience chamber was crowded. It held more bodies than Torrey had ever seen it hold, even on the day of his ascension as Queen’s Chosen. The chamber smelled of blood, queens and fear—and victory. A queen war could not end otherwise. The triumphant queen became Queen and Her first acts were always to deal vengeance and death. The Queen seated on the throne this day wore a face filled with rage and her naked body was splashed with blood.

Cyrrhi.

He recognized many others in the room. Sovesa and two other trusted queens standing to one side, ringed by warriors. Hari, Nak and Aktu, naked and seated on the dais’ lowest steps. On the highest step sprawled the hacked and slashed body of a younger queen in full chitin armor, her thorax and belly pierced with spears and Cyrrhi’s foot upon her throat.

Torrey smiled with relief when he saw Cyrrhi. Her left shoulder and the breast below it were wrapped in a bloody bandage but she was alive. His allegiance was sound, and the pact that protected his kumbh and family remained in place. When the warriors had dragged him and Willem to the foot of the steps, he dropped to his knees before they could force him. Willem followed his lead.

“My Queen,” he said.

“Where have you been? My warriors tell me you crawled out of a hole. The same hole they came from.” She pointed to her left. Torrey twisted to see and his heart stopped for a beat. Willem gasped aloud. Shel and Lena hung from crude frames, displayed in chains. Both women bore terrible wounds and one, Shel, had been eviscerated.

“We were fleeing when we found it,” he said, but his mind was racing. Lena’s throat was cut. The nomari did not slit throats. Humans did.

“What were you fleeing? You were in the safest of places.”

“I did not believe that. The warriors fled. And Hari sought to harm me. That’s why we fled, to hide. It’s what we are taught to do when nomari swarm to battle.”

Cyrrhi’s eyes narrowed. Sovesa stepped forward. “Great Queen, this cowardly male lies. He plotted to destroy you so he might be with his lover. These female ri’im”—Sovesa pointed to Shel and Lena—“who entered the nom to kill you—may you heal quickly—are from his kumbh. Clearly they put him in your bed so he might open the doors to your enemies!”

Why would Sovesa say such a thing? Torrey fought to make sense of it. “My Queen! The Bhesarim are your most devoted servants! These women, Lena and Shel—”

“Attacked me in the Corridor of Drones. My warrior told me how they found you and now I know how they came to be there.”

Lena and Shel had attacked the Queen? How? And why? No wonder he and Willem were now under the same suspicion.

“If the females attacked you, my Queen, they did so in treachery against their kumbh—and for the advantage of another!”

“These useless males should be impregnated by vrnabi!” Sovesa eyed them with venom.

Beside him, Willem’s breathing turned ragged. Having your insides hollowed out by the larvae of giant wasps was the worst kind of death. He prayed Willem remembered his advice to be strong. Torrey sensed something more terrible happening than threats against both their lives.

“Be careful, my Queen. These females did not devise their plot alone. Who did they plot to put in your place? Not one of us, but one of you.”

Cunning touched Cyrrhi’s hard eyes. It took intelligence to become and stay Queen. She had that in common with the humans she ruled. She understood that kumbhs, too, waged dominance wars, and dominance was a game at which she excelled.

“You mean this one?” She kicked the corpse at her feet so it rolled down the steps to lie, sightless and gape-mouthed, at their feet.

“Who is that?” Willem whispered.

(to be continued…)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! If you’re looking for more fun, free fiction use the links below to visit the blogs of the other Wednesday Briefers.


Victoria Adams
Jim Dunaway    FLASH VIRGIN HERE

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Raine O'Tierney on Why Dachshunds are Good for Writer's Block

A majority of authors I know own cats, so I always cheer when we get to hear it for dogs! I love poodles, because that's the tribe of my lovely Cate, but I think Raine O'Tierney makes a great case for dachshunds! And hats. You must check out her hat parties! Take it, Raine...

~~~~~~~~~~

I like dachshunds. A LOT. In my humble opinion, they are the best dogs in the entire world, with their long little bodies and short, short legs. They would look ridiculous if they weren't so damned barrel-chested, standing proudly on that hill, sniffing every single acorn that fell from the trees. (Because, apparently, acorn smells are like snowflakes--each one different and worthy of attention.)

I come from a dachshund family. Both sides always had dachshunds, with proud, traditional German names like Oscar, Heidi, Hans, and so on.

My dachshund is named Klaus and he's amazing. He's a picky princess when it comes to his treats, he will only play with HEDGEHOG toys, he sleeps on his back with his legs in the air, and when he wants to go outside, he doesn't bark, but passive-aggressively licks you until you can't stand it.

And he's gotten me through a LOT of writer's block.

I don't know what it is about walking through the neighborhood, being led by a black-and-tan ball of fur that thinks children are the enemy and will bark at old ladies, but it ALWAYS recharges my creative batteries. Even when I have to drag my lazy butt out of bed because there are new acorns to sniff or cats to chase or snow to play in, I always come home with a brand new story idea.

Writer's block? Meet dachshunds. It's simple, really.

1) Acquire a dachshund. You should do this anyway, it's good for the soul.

2) Get the leash ready, 'cause dachshunds enjoy life and they will charge at it and leave you panting in the dust if they are off-leash.

3) Try not to laugh at their trot. Just try. You can't.

4) Return home, embarrassed because the dachshund has just hiked on someone's super expensive tires.

5) Plop down in front of the computer and realize, ZOMG. That thing you didn't know how to write? You can now write it.

Just don't let the dachshund have the keyboard. They are not known for being very good spellers.

(Thanks for having us, Tali! ~ Raine & Klaus) You're very welcome! Here, have a liver snap!



Blurb

Sweet Giordan, Please Remember by Raine O'Tierney

Giordan Stone is lucky, all things considered. Sure, he spent five years in a coma only to wake with a right leg that’s practically useless and no memories other than his name. But now he’s under the care of sassy southern surrogate mother, Chloe Devereaux, spending his days painting and healing. Giordan wants for nothing at all… until he looks out the window one morning and sees Chloe's gorgeous son, Shane, standing there. Something very familiar stirs in Giordan.

When he sketches, Giordan is able to go into an “art trance” where pieces of disjointed memory come back to him without time or place. More and more of these flashes are of Shane Devereaux and the intense, intimate experiences they shared together. Even though Shane keeps his distance now, Giordan is convinced his flashes are real. But he doesn’t have the whole story. Giordan is determined to fill in his memory blanks and convince Shane his feelings are genuine.

Excerpt

Outside, the light of the morning was a gentle white. He was ready to go with Chloe to the orchard and paint anything and everything. Maybe she’d take him all the way down to the end of the lane so he could sit near the creek that separated the Devereaux’s property from county land.

Giordan was daydreaming about smearing blues across fresh canvas when something down below caught his eye. He looked closer.

His cane slipped through loose fingers, but he didn’t hear it clatter to the wood floor. He didn’t hear anything. Suddenly, his whole attention was intensely focused on a man standing down on the walk. He was talking seriously with Chloe’s husband, Mr. Devereaux.

Giordan couldn’t have torn his eyes away if they’d been burning, because something about the man he saw there was familiar and that familiarity strained against the mental veil. A hot feeling spread over him, and he flushed, at once both embarrassed and curious. He wanted to throw open the window and call out to this stranger, but of course, he didn’t know his name. What in the world was happening to him? Did he know the man standing below?

Giordan opened his mouth and raised his fists to the pane to call attention to himself when Chloe caught his arm and placed the cane back into his hand.

He’d never seen the look on her face before, and it startled him into obedient silence. She placed a finger to her lips and motioned him back to his bedroom. Giordan snuck one final look at the man standing outside before Chloe hurried him on, faster than his aching side wanted to go. That deep, familiar feeling lingered inside him, and Giordan felt achingly disappointed at his missed opportunity.

Maman, who is that?” Giordan asked once she’d shut his door.

Her look softened and she placed a gentle hand against his cheek. “That’s my son, Shane.”

“Shane,” Giordan repeated. He was hoping once he had a name to go along with the handsome face that memories would flood in and everything would become clear. “But I know him, right?” he begged, certain she would confirm it. Seeing Shane’s face was like the trances Giordan went into when he drew: too familiar not to be real.

Chloe took one long, slow breath and replied, “Ah, not anymore, honey. It’s been a long time.”

“Well, then I’d like to meet him. I-I should reintroduce myself!”

“Giordan, I….” Chloe’s hesitation, much like the expression she’d had on her face, quieted him. She didn’t want them to meet. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”





Buy links


Bio

Raine O’Tierney is an always-writing, boundlessly enthusiastic, exclamation point addict! (!!!) She is known for declaring every day “the best day EVER!” and every thing her “all-time FAVORITE!” Despite this (obnoxious?) exuberance, she still somehow manages to have a wonderfully encouraging husband and writing partner, SiĆ“n, and an amazing group of friends and colleagues who continue to support (read: put up with) her. Raine spends her days working as a library lady, fighting the good fight for intellectual freedom.

Website and social media links

The Hat Party (LGBT Author Interviews) http://raineotierneyhatparty.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @RaineOTierney

Blog Tour and Prizes!

Sweet Giordan, Please Remember Blog Tour
March 17th--March 29th

Prizes:

*** Set of Sweet Giordan, Please Remember and Under the Table and Into His Heart ebooks
*** I Believe in the Sweetness Notebook
*** I Believe in the Sweetness Tote
*** 2x I Believe in the Sweetness Bumper Stickers
*** 2x Sweetness! Bumper Stickers

Please visit Home of the Sweetness to enter:

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Tease Me Thursday: Thick as Ice #2

For this week’s Tease Me Thursday, I thought it would be fun to post a sexier snippet from Thick as Ice, the sequel for Thick as Thieves.

In this bit, giant barbarian Vorgell finally has his partner Madd alone, or at least alone enough, and is pressing for action.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You know how I feel. I really need you, Madd.” He hoped it didn’t sound too much like a plea.

“I can see that.”

For once his partner didn’t mock his rampant urges. One never knew with Madd. He could be kisses and surrender one day and the next he would bite off the head of anyone—man or woman—who looked him in the eye. Right now they were both soaked through from the heat and their clothing stuck to their bodies, but Vorgell crushed Madd against him, lowering his head to pursue a kiss. As always, Madd tensed. Even after months freed from the love collar, he flinched. But then he relaxed into it, his mouth turning soft and welcoming Vorgell’s eager tongue.

“We did it,” Vorgell said when they parted for air. It pleased him to see Madd look like a man well-kissed.

“We’re fucking rich.”

“Yes. And I shall give you your share of the rubies only after you’ve delivered on my reward.” Vorgell straightened and canted his pelvis forward, pushing his engorged cock insistently against Madd’s belly.

From where she hunkered on the threshold, Petal huffed and looked away, her nose tilted with disdain. She preferred hunting to watching humans do undignified things to each other. 

~~~~~~~~~~~


Looking for more snippets from other authors? Check this list.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Sealed in Stone #29

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week.

I’m continuing with Sealed in Stone, M/M science fiction about Torrey and Willem, two human youths who love each other but must fight to stay together when Torrey becomes the Chosen of the alien Queen who rules over his people.

In this chapter, Torrey and Willem realize their situation is complicated and they must seek some answers.

This week I chose a visual prompt, a creepy beautiful cave. Just imagine it all black and glassy instead of calcium white. 


Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sealed in Stone #29


Music filled the shadows and moonlight trickled over wet walls, skimming mirror surfaces of water-filled hollows rising from the glassy floor. The cavern was beautiful, buried and still. Willem wrapped his arms around Torrey and tucked him close, pressing kisses to his hair, neck and quivering shoulders.

“We’ll be all right.”

“We have to believe that, don’t we?” Torrey sighed and pulled away. He twisted around until he sat with his back to the wall, looking across the chamber to where the two dead women lay in dark pools of blood. “The nomari don’t cut throats,” he said.

He smelled Torrey’s fear, felt it shaking in his bones. If Torrey, who knew the nomari so well, was afraid, then there was good reason. The bigger problem at the moment was the chamber’s chill. Stone held cold as inexorably as heat. Willem wondered if the abandoned human shelter and workshop had a few blankets at least, or maybe even an iron stove and some fuel.

“I don’t think the nomari killed them.” Torrey’s voice sounded small.

He meant Marda and Rue. Willem saw some sense in it. Humans were famously fond of slitting throats, and Lena and Shel were missing. There was also a newly carved exit to this chamber where none should have been. He pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Torrey grabbed for his wrist.

“Over there. I don’t know about you, but it’s dark in here and I’m damn cold.” Neither of them had on a stitch of clothing. “There’s probably blankets there, or clothes or something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

They walked wide of the bodies, which thanks to the cold did not yet stink too badly. Torrey searched the stores while Willem rummaged through chests of personal belongings. They found several blankets and used two to cover the bodies. A pair of trousers from one of the women fit Torrey and another pair, while not long enough, served to clothe Willem. They shrugged into triple ply cotton sweaters. The one Willem wore had probably belonged to Rue.

Torrey handed him a ration cake of dried fruit, oats, and honey. “Food from home.”

They both ate quickly, devouring the chewy food. “This is crazy. They shouldn’t be dead. No one should be dead. Do you think Lena and Shel—”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Nuptial madness affects women, too, not just men. It’s worse for them really. Women’s bodies are different. They hyper ovulate and secrete more testosterone as well as estrogen. They get dangerous pregnancies and… and they get aggressive during the phase and depressed after, more than men do. It’s why older women are preferred for being sent to work in a nom.”

“Shel and Lena are older. But would they kill their kumbhwomen, their friends?”

“None of us know what we’ll do during a nuptial phase. You were ready to kill Hari.”

He was never my friend. Besides, Hari had tried to make a move on Torrey. Willem still wanted to kill him. “Lets go. I don’t want to stay here, not with dead women.”

“If we stay the nomari will find us anyway.” Torrey leaned in, lifting his face until their lips touched. At least they had this, they had each other. If there was anyone or anything left alive in the nom, they had no way of telling. Even their kisses lacked heat now. “I think we should follow the new passage.”

Willem nodded. “We should try to find Lena and Shel. They could be in trouble. If nothing else, they can tell us what happened here.”

“Look for weapons.”

They found two knives that would be completely ineffective against nomari spears but would be better than nothing should trouble find them. Because they had no shoes, they took those of the dead women. Rue’s boots fit Torrey rather well but Marda’s sandals were too short for Willem, though he managed to get them on and they proved better for walking on rough stone than wearing nothing at all. More rummaging turned up a lantern filled with oil and a flint Willem was able to use to light it. The halo of light it provided would help them navigate the tunnel. Torrey filled a small pack with more of the grain cakes and two canteens of good water. Water collecting in cavern pools could be tainted with minerals and other poisons.

Stronger light filtered into the cavern as they left, telling them night had given way to day. Within the nom such things little mattered. Willem held the lantern in front of him as they ducked into the passage.

“Hold my sweater, and I mean hold it! You let go and I’ll stop. I’m not losing you, not ever again.” Willem caught Torrey’s hand and placed it at his waist and his garment’s loose hem.

“You never lost me.”

“That’s not what it felt like to me.” His heart beat a little faster when he felt Torrey’s fingers curl under his, grasping a fistful of fabric. He let go and put his hand out to feel the wall.

Very quickly they discerned the way had been hewed quickly. Even with the lantern to show the path, jagged stone walls caught at their clothes while the rough floor often caused them to stumble. The air within, however, was not stagnant. Willem detected how it flowed in the direction they traveled.

“There’s an exit somewhere ahead.” He kept his voice low.

“I don’t think this passage goes far, either. They cut it in just three, maybe four days.”

But had four women done it? Or just two? Light not cast by the lantern splashed the wall ahead of them. They’d found the exit. When they reached it, Torrey put his hand up to touch Willem’s cheek, a warm, human warning. Together they bent down to look out.

They were a short drop above a floor paved with golden glass, dead warriors, and blood.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! If you’re looking for more fun, free fiction use the links below to visit the blogs of the other Wednesday Briefers.


TC Collins

Monday, March 17, 2014

Guest Author JC Wallace on Curiosity, Fiction, and Sacred Geometry



Hi, everyone! I want to thank Tali for inviting me to her blog. Curiosity Killed Shaney is my first published novel and I am thrilled to share this story with all of you.

This blog tour got huge fast! There are awesome prizes that to be given away on 4/11. At the end of this post, you will find a link to enter!  Check in at www.jcwallacebooks.com for links to all of the blogs in the tour and you can enter as much as you like!


Sacred Geometry...How did it end up in this story and what the heck is it?

Sacred Geometry is a central feature in this story. Until I started writing this story, I had never heard of Sacred Geometry. So how did it end up in this story? Glad you asked! When I develop a story, I start with a basic idea of what I want to focus on, such as magic, or demons, or vampires or something paranormal. I then go online and plug-in search terms and see what comes up. From there, I read and read and read and hit on links until something catches my eye, something that might fit with the story. I am also look for something I haven’t seen before or an angle not covered in other MM books I’ve read.
                                                                              
So what caught my eye about Sacred Geometry? I stumbled upon a website called Esoteric Online, where I read an article called The Hidden Energy Science of Sacred Geometry: Ancient Traditions and Recent Breakthroughs by Robert J. Gilbert, PhD. In the article, Dr. Gilbert describes the basics of Sacred Geometry and touches on what it is.

Here is an excerpt from that website that really had me thinking of how to use Sacred Geometry in this story:

Perhaps the most fundamental — and essential — part of this spiritual knowledge is to know the actual patterns, the energy blueprints, which everything in creation is based on. Everything is based on a specific pattern; knowing that pattern unlocks the ability to make full practical use of it. This is true whether speaking of patterns of higher spiritual realities, psychological and behavior patterns, energetic patterns, or actual structures manifested in the physical world.” - Robert J. Gilbert, PhD.

Only through our knowing these spiritual and energetic patterns can we achieve our full potential: to become conscious, responsible creator beings in the world. In recent times, the term we use to describe these core spiritual, energetic, and physical blueprint patterns is Sacred Geometry.” - Robert J. Gilbert, PhD.


From there, the story really unfolded. If you’ve read the story, or do read it, you’ll see that I’ve used the idea of creation relying on energy blueprints and patterns and that those principles are what Shaney’s abilities are based upon. I tried not to make the story too technical and didn’t want it to be a study in Sacred Geometry. In fact, the story is only loosely based on Sacred Geometry and I really stretched my creative license to make the concepts fit with what I needed. So, please, if I got anything “wrong” it was intentional! And, besides, this was not a term paper!

I hope you enjoy the little bit of science I threw into the story and if you’re interested in reading more about Sacred Geometry you can google it online and find tons of info.

* * * *

Tomorrow, I visit the blog of AR Von where I will post my interview with Shaney! Hope to see you all there!







Blurb: Shaney's curiosity is always getting him into trouble, including stumbling into a ritualistic circle and being imbued with an energy that will eventually tear him apart. He soon finds out that Hudson, a man he cares for deeply, might be responsible for his misfortune. Add in the betrayal by his best friend Todd and the desire of a demented occultist named Silas to control the energy inside of him and there seems to be no way out. Can Shaney find a way to rid his body of the nefarious energy before he dies a horrible death?

Excerpt

Shaney peered cautiously around the aisle of junk peddled on late night television as items that that no one could live without. Yeah, right, Shaney snorted to himself. With anything but suave subtlety, he looked for his target through the open racks of clothes and tall shelves filled with shoes. Well, tall for him. Yes, he was short for a man. Hell, he was short for a pre-pubescent teenager. And in one of the cruelest twists of fate, at five feet six inches, Shaney was the shortest of his three siblings—three sisters, actually. Oh, yeah, as if that hadn’t been a wonderful childhood.
He sighed, reminding himself that he’d long ago come to terms with his lack of verticality—sort of. Silently, he slipped around the end of the shelf, moving slow and smooth, like the aforementioned cat. He worked his way toward the first rack of haphazardly piled shoes. Of course, he should straighten those up later. He stopped about ten feet from the rack, not daring to get any closer. As he peered through one of the shelves, he caught just a glimpse of his target’s red shirt. The man was rifling through the rack of sweatshirts.
If he could just get a bit closer, get a better look…
Shaney froze as the man—and, oh, what a man he was—walked out from behind that rack of shoes, a black sweatshirt in hand. Maybe if Shaney remained still, he wouldn’t be spotted out there in the open, drooling, because that was what he did when faced with the most gorgeous specimen of man known to humankind. The hunky man’s spiky black hair was longer on top and shorter on the sides. He had a five o’clock shadow at ten a.m. covering a strong jaw with—oh, hell—a dimpled chin and intense crystal blue eyes centered by the straightest, most slender nose ending over mouth-watering lips that were just waiting to be sucked and nibbled. That red T-shirt covered wide shoulders and biceps. Black jeans hugged a slim waist and caressed every single muscle with each confident, I-own-the-world step he took in black work boots. And talk about tall!
Shaney stopped breathing as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hunky came down his aisle. The man’s blue eyes scanned the store looking from something or…someone?
Me?
Time ceased and the world narrowed as those eyes penetrated straight into Shaney’s soul, connected with his very essence, and awakened Shaney’s cock within his pressed chinos. Those forceful eyes were staring and, wait...frowning, as the man came straight at him! Panic seized Shaney’s body. Oh, fuck! He saw me staring and now he’s going to kill the cat! Damn, Todd for being right! Unable to break from the intensity of that unyielding gaze, Shaney started to scramble backwards with no regard for direction—just away from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Angry.  Shaney sprinted in reverse as the man raised his hand and pointed a finger.
“Hey. You.”
Even faced with imminent death, the man’s voice vibrated through every nerve in Shaney’s small frame. If he had to die, let his death be at the hands of this god.
“Stop!”
Every cell in Shaney’s body followed the forceful order, but not before Shaney slammed into the shelf behind him. He gasped, the breath knocked from his lungs. He grasped for anything solid to hold onto as the useless treads of his sneakers slid on the waxed floor. Items rocked on the shelf, some toppling, others just threatening.
This is gonna hurt, Shaney thought and cringed until his hand finally grasped a shelf, and his other hand found purchase as well.
The enormous display shelf settled as Shaney struggled to steady his feet. He closed his eyes, sucking in large quantities of air. His hands vibrated against the steel of the shelf, unyielding in their death grip. The whoosh of blood in his ears cocooned him in silence and he almost forgot about…Shaney’s eyes popped open, and he jumped back in surprise to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Angry right in his face. And next, as is standard humor in classic Saturday morning cartoons, something heavy fell out of the sky, landed on Shaney’s head, brought him to his knees, then flat on his face. The only thing missing were those annoying little chirpy bluebirds circling his head. He’d have to settle for stars.


Curiosity Killed Shaney Blog Tour Giveaway!!
Shaney is so excited about his story being told that he is giving away some great prizes!
P.S. He’s really excited to give them away!
Prizes (see pics here):

1- $25 Amazon Gift Card
2 Curiosity Killed Shaney Ebooks
2 of Maximus’ “Duct Tape” T-shirts
3 “Freeze Warlock” Coffee Mugs
2 $5 Amazon Gift Cards

You can enter daily along the blog tour - as often as you like!


About JC Wallace

I have been writing all of my life, however it was just this year that I ventured out to be published. In my day job, I am a behavior analyst. At night and on the weekends, I write about all things men. I believe there is nothing hotter than two men finding and loving one another, whether for a night or forever. An avid reader of M/M romance, I love a good twist of a plot, HEA, HFN, or tragic ending.

I am owned by three kids, one grandchild and one on the way, two dogs and one cat. I live in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains in Northern NY


Saturday, March 15, 2014

Guest Author Elyzabeth VaLey on Blind Beauty's Inspirations

I love fairy tales and particularly enjoyed Elysabeth VaLey’s saucy M/F erotic tale The Golden Cock. So of course I am now reading her M/M second book in the Witches’ Mischief series, Blind Beauty. Here’s what the author has to say about how the series came to be, followed by a tempting excerpt.

~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been asked several times to explain my inspiration for Blind Beauty. How does a fairy tale become something naughty? How did Blind Beauty become the second book in a series? Well, there were several factors involved.

1.      I love fairy tales. Anything that involves magic and fantasy is at the top of my list, add to that romance (and some sizzling scenes) and you’ve got me enthralled.

2.      The Golden Cock. Have you read it? The Golden Cock was my first Naughty Fairy Tale and is now book 1 of The Witches’ Mischief Series. Initially, it wasn’t created to be a series, but the muse jumped in and started whispering naughty things in my ears.

Loosely based on The Golden Goose, it introduces the witch Soussanna (which you’ll see again in Blind Beauty) and tells the story of Brielle and Vincent, a man with a very –er- special gift between his legs.

3.      A review. Yep, a reviewer (this one to be exact) was curious to know what happened to the baby girl at the end of The Golden Cock.  That got my wheels turning.

4.      Many of my stories start out with a single scene and the birth of The Witches’ Mischief series was no different. Shortly after reading the review mentioned above, I witnessed a scene between Soussanna and her daughter. I’m not going to go into details because that particular scene takes place in the future, but suffice to say, some things I didn’t know about Soussanna were revealed and the characters from Blind Beauty were mentioned. Questions arose. Who were they? What did they do? How did they meet Soussanna and her daughter? What was their story?

5.      Research. I knew there were two men that needed their story to be told, but what was it? There are many fairy tales circulating around the world, but only one matched James and Richard. (Can you guess which one? I’ll give you a hint, though it’s titled Blind Beauty it has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast.)

Furthermore, The Witches’ Mischief series takes places in fictional England during the Regency period, so that also required some investigation.

6.      The Muse steps in. I had the historical basis, the fairy tale that ran parallel to James and Richard’s story… all that was missing was for me to open my ears and let the boys tell their tale…

Note: Both Blind Beauty and The Golden Cock can be read as standalone novels!



Blurb:
James Macintosh is hours away from his new home. He is ready to start a secluded life away from all the rumors, insults and disgusted faces concerning his appearance. However, a meeting with a mysterious woman and her child, mingled with a sudden harsh snowstorm will set him down a very different path than the one he had originally envisioned.

Richard Randywine is an accidental fugitive living with a band of rowdy thieves. A good man at heart, he has gotten used to hiding his emotions behind his strapping muscles and brute strength.  Yet, when the thieves ambush an unsuspecting rider, Richard is forced to drop his mask and step forward.
Will both men be able to see what lies before them or will they be blind to the possibility of happiness?


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Author Bio:
Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.
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Excerpt:

He climbed atop his horse, as told. His back molded to Richard’s, his body betraying him as it molded into the other man’s embrace. Richard pulled him hard against him, his body enveloping him in an almost suffocating hug.

“Go,” he whispered huskily into his ear, his breath fanning it. James pressed his thighs against Faith’s flanks, hoping the animal would understand, considering the strange position she was in. She did, for she set off at a trot in the direction Richard indicated. They galloped in silence, trees whirring past them, snow flying when they swept past. James eyes widened and he barely controlled the urge to order Faith to stop as he realized their impasse.

“Richard, the hoof prints, the snow.” James pointed at the visible trail. 
“They’ll track us down as easily as the king’s hounds trace a fox.”

Richard’s breath was warm in his ear. His hair tickled his temple and James had to suppress a shiver.

“I know.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a plan, besides wishing that they’ll wake up during the night and we’ll be miles away by then or that it snows heavily again.”

James wished he didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t relax. The problem wasn’t so much the thieves that could pursue them at any moment, but the man behind him. He was too close, too comforting, and all too desirable. James shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position. One in which he wasn’t pressed up tightly against Richard’s groin. One in which he didn’t imagine he felt the length of his cock hard against him. Because, he was convinced it was his imagination. Otherwise, how could a man like Richard be interested in him? It didn’t make any sense. In his experience, men like Richard were ladies’ men. They seduced, fucked and discarded women. He wasn’t a woman and he’d been rejected too many times in his life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more pain. Richard’s fingers brushed against his side, the fingers digging into his flesh and distracting him as arousal flared in every centimeter of his flesh.

“What got you into thievery?” he asked, attempting to forget how close their bodies were.

Richard grunted in reply and he fell silent once more, fishing his mind for a topic of conversation. It came up blank. He thought about asking Richard to stop. Faith was probably tiring though she didn’t show it and surely, they were safe by now. He should ask. James knew he should, but he couldn’t. He was losing his mind, falling prey to the liquid fire that was consuming him inside and outside. He wasn’t sure if the man was hard, but he was. His cock was stiff and throbbing, the idea of taking or being taken by Richard flashing through his mind every time Faith bounced.

What would it feel like?


Flesh both silky and hard as steel brushing against him, an intimate caress, deep and longing. They’d become one man, writhing, gasping, and moaning. James’ breath hitched, the tightness in his breeches becoming uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth together and grasped the reins so tightly the material cut into his hands. He scrambled to regain his bearings, to remember whom he was with and what had occurred in the last 48 hours. He couldn’t trust Richard, but neither could he trust his treacherous body. He was not a beautiful man. Surely the thief didn’t want him. The thief. That’s right, Richard was a thief. He had no morals, no scruples, no—James groaned as Faith skipped over a fallen log, throwing Richard’s body against him, the erection he was sure he was imagining grinding against his bottom.