Category: free excerpt

FREE Excerpt/New Release: Sheriff and the Outlaw by Ryan Field

FREE Excerpt/New Release: Sheriff and the Outlaw by Ryan Field

Here’s the next installment of the Glendora Hill gay western series, “The Sheriff and the Outlaw.” It’s a stand alone book that doesn’t have to be read consecutively with the rest of the series, but it does return the general storyline back to the first time the main characters met and fell in love. In some ways this could have been the first book, but we thought it would be interesting to create a book in the series that told more of the back story, with more detailed history about the main characters, Sebastian and Avery.

You can find it here, and here on allromanceebooks.  I’ll keep posting links in future posts as I get them. As always, the book will be up on the publisher’s web site, and distributed in most places where e-books are sold. It’s $4.99 at the publisher’s web site, which is important to remember.

Blurb:

When Sebastian loses his wonderful husband of ten years in an accident, he’s not only emotionally devastated, but also financially ruined. He can’t turn to family because they turned their backs on him when he told them he was gay, and Sebastian’s late husband owed so much he’s about to lose everything, including the mobile home he spent so many years making perfect. But just when Sebastian thinks there’s no hope at all, he inherits the meager estate of a distant uncle he’s never even met.
The fictional town of picturesque Glendora Hill, Texas appears to be perfect, which is exactly what Sebastian and his teenage son need after all the heartache they’ve gone through. But it’s not going to be easy. And as they begin to make new lives in this odd but friendly little town so far from their lives in Houston, Sebastian stops playing by the rules for a while. That is until the town’s cowboy sheriff, Avery Baldwin, confronts Sebastian about a few rules he’s overlooked.
As Sebastian rebuilds his life and the dilapidated property he inherited, with perfectly pruned shrubbery, a bright white porch swing, and two very strapping young studs he takes in as tenants, he also discovers a few secrets about his past through the one man who seems to understand him. And as the secrets of Sebastian’s childhood unfold and emotions he thought were dead forever begin to reawaken, he’s terrified of the only man who can actually help him move forward.

Excerpt:

I always state up front these excerpts are from raw versions and may contain a few issues…they work better with HTML than PDF files, which is why I post them. The final, published book is fully edited. The storyline hasn’t changed at all.

As the afternoon unfolded, Sebastian had to go into the garage and dig out one of his uncle’s old folding tables. When people started arriving, it seemed many of them had a covered dish in hand. Jesse Mae from the dry cleaners brought her famous ambrosia, with little marshmallows and pineapple. Erlene from the Country Way Beauty Shop where Angie had her hair permed and teased brought her famous fudge brownies, with walnuts and M&Ms. Sebastian lost track of all the food after Marsha from the Twist and Knit Shop handed him her famous meatballs in tomato sauce. There were enough desserts to fill a bakery in Houston, including a massive tray of Shiva cookies from Elsie Goldberg. Even Kick’s boss, Joe Hennessey, from the hardware store showed up with something. His wife, Dot Hennessey, handed Sebastian a covered baking dish and said, “It’s my famous stuffed mushrooms. Everyone in town will be expecting them.”  

            One of the few who didn’t show up with something to eat was Luanne from the dress shop. And that’s because she seemed to have both hands full with Judd on her arm. She literally clung to the man in a way so obvious Sebastian noticed other people murmuring about her. For a moment, as she walked into the tent area with Judd, the entire room went silent and glanced in her direction. At a closer glance, Sebastian noticed she was probably in her early forties. She wore a bright yellow dress with an empire waist, white vinyl pumps, and boxy looking purse to match. For the first time, Sebastian noticed her heavy make-up and the way all that mascara gave her raccoon eyes. From her long fake yellow fingernails to her teased bleach blond hair, Sebastian thought she would have made an interesting drag queen. In fact, she reminded him of a female impersonator he’d known in Houston named, Miss Demeanor. He wondered if Judd’s attraction to Luanne had anything to do with Judd asking him if he’d ever done drag, as if insinuating he would love to see Sebastian in drag.

            Luanne walked up to Sebastian and flung out her right hand as if she expected him to kiss it. When she saw he had no intention of either kissing her hand or shaking it, she brought her hand back to Judd’s chest, rubbed it, and said, “I’m so sorry we’re late, sugar. Judd and I got busy with something and the time just got away from us. You know how it is when there’s a big strong man around the house.”

            Judd and Sebastian exchanged a quick glance, and Judd seemed embarrassed by her actions and her attitude. But it was apparent that he was afraid to say anything aloud, so Sebastian smiled and said, “Don’t you worry at all, honey pie, sugar. You’re not late at all. And this party is going to go on for the rest of the day.” Then he turned his back on her and went over to check on the band. He’d run into her kind before, and he knew how to handle them.

            It was going on four o’clock in the afternoon and the band still hadn’t started playing. So Sebastian asked why and the drummer told him they were still waiting for the guitar player to arrive. He told Sebastian the guitar player was also the lead singer and they couldn’t start without him unless Sebastian was willing to just have the instrumental, and then he assured Sebastian the guitar player would be there by four o’clock and he’d never missed a performance in his life.

            Sebastian shrugged and moved closer to the buffet table he’d set up for the all the foods other people had brought. He was amazed to see that most of the food was being eaten, including the dishes he’d had catered. And he was even more amused when he overheard some of the comments.

            Angie was standing next to Dot Hennessey’s stuffed mushrooms with Normie Lynn from the bait and tackle shop. As Angie bit into one of the stuffed mushrooms, she made a face and said, “I can’t believe Dot brought his hot mess with her again.” Then she giggled and said, “I wouldn’t feed this to my cat. I’m glad I brought my mac and cheese casserole.”

            Sebastian smiled and moved to the other end of the table where Elsie and Dot Hennessey were talking. They were standing over Angie’s mac and cheese casserole. When Dot Hennessey took a spoonful of mac and cheese, she made a face, giggled, and said, “You could put up wallpaper with this clump of glue she’s trying to pass off as mac and cheese. I’m glad I brought my stuffed mushrooms.”

            Then Elsie waved across the table at Angie and said, “Hey sweetie. We’re loving this mac and cheese. It’s the best one you’ve ever made.”

            Angie waved back and said, “And these are by far the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had, Dot. You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

            “Thanks, hon,” Dot Hennessey said. And then she turned to Elsie and whispered, “Now I have to figure out where to dump this crap.”

            So much for everyone’s famous dishes. And these weren’t the only vicious comments Sebastian overheard as he made his way through the tent. He heard two women talking about how ridiculous the prices were getting at the beauty shop, and then kissing the owner when she walked over to them. He heard two men talking about whether or not unmarried Angie from the sheriff’s office had ever had a man, and snickering about what would happen if she did at this point in her life. But the most interesting thing he overheard by far that afternoon was when he walked up behind a group of women and found them whispering about Luanne from the dress shop. He’d only met them in passing and didn’t remember their names. But what they said made his jaw drop.

            “I wonder if the black widow slaps that big old cowboy around like she did with the last husband,” one woman said.

            “Probably not yet,” another woman said. “She likes to break them in slowly.”

            “She sure does like them big and dumb,” a third woman said. “He’s probably hung like a horse.”

            Sebastian smiled.

            “I just hope that sweet guy finds out about her before it’s too late,” a fourth woman said.

            Then someone else joined them and they changed the subject. Sebastian glanced at his watch and saw it was four o’clock now and the band still hadn’t started playing. He decided to go into the shop to check on Kick and to see if he needed any help. As he crossed through the tent, he couldn’t stop wondering what those women were talking about when they referred to Luanne’s former husband. There was something about her he didn’t trust, and it went far beyond the nasty way she’d treated him earlier.

Fangsters on Sale Saturday; Kevin Fletcher on Gay Fans; March For Marriage Dismal

Fangsters on Sale Saturday

Allromanceeblooks.com, my own personal favorite outlet for buying e-books, is having a summer sale, and tomorrow my book, Fangsters will be on sale at 50% off.

Here’s the link to the Fangsters page on Allromance.

Here’s the blurb:

At a glance, Anton Pagano looks and sounds just like any other twenty-something. He lives in a mansion in northern New Jersey with his mom and dad, and he’s never had to worry about anything other than his wardrobe, his latest new car, and the secret love affair he’s been having for years. However, Anton has more than just the love affair to hide: he belongs to a Sicilian vampire mobster clan that migrated to New Jersey in the late 1800s.

 When Anton’s dad, the head of their clan, decides it’s time for Anton and his vampire cousin Digger to get into the “family business,” Anton’s not all that excited about it. Until he meets a sweet, young human named Leo on his first night at work. They wind up spending the rest of the night together, but things get even more complicated when they bring Anton’s secret vampire lover into the picture a few weeks later.

 After a bloody battle with werewolves, and the beginning of what Anton predicts will be an all-out war between two vampire mob clans in New Jersey, Anton and his secret vampire lover decide it’s time to consider turning Leo into a vampire so all three of them can be together for eternity. But thanks to fate, nothing is as simple as it looks, and they wind up doing the one thing they ever wanted to do to Leo as a last resort.

I’m putting up a short excerpt below that’s never been published, and I’ll try to post more tomorrow. If you do a simple search for the book on Allromance tomorrow just use the title “Fangsters.” That’s how I got it. I don’t have any special access to these things. I get my own books the same way readers do. Allromance has a sensitive search feature and you have to be that specific with all books there.

Kevin Fletcher on Gay Fans

Fletcher is an actor on a UK soap, Emmerdale, that I’ve never seen. He’s been playing the part of Andy Sugden since most of us were kids and he recently commented on the way gay fans react to him on social media. I have a few thoughts on this topic myself because I’ve seen it happen with other male celebrities and it often makes me wonder about the double standards. Fletcher seems to take it all in his stride, though.

‘Most of my saucy comments are from gay guys. Some of them are pretty explicit in the things they say, especially on Twitter,’ the actor told The Sun this week.

‘There are some fan pages for gay men, who send the most crazy stuff. It’s funny. I’ve had women telling me I’m bloody gorgeous but I haven’t had any kinky pictures. Everything’s been quite tame… from the women!’

First, I follow a few male celebrities myself, one of whom is Trevor Donovan. From what I’ve seen, he gets as many “saucy” comments from women fans as he does from gay men. Like Fletcher, Donovan takes it in his stride and he jokes around about it. He’s good sport.

But I think it’s important to realize the fact that men like Trevor Donovan and Kevin Fletcher are also human beings. And the comments I’ve seen certain people make about them would be considered misogynistic if they were made about a woman…if not downright rude. And they come from women and gay men. At least from what I’ve personally witnessed and I’m on social media all the time.

More here about Fletcher. 

March For Marriage Dismal

According to all pieces I’ve read, the National Organization of Marriage’s (NOM) annual “March For Marriage” in Washington this week was dismal at best. I’ve read there weren’t huge crowds, at least not as large as NOM would lead people to believe. And the general theme of the event was about as interesting as spending a Friday night with Rick Santorum.

Today, a handful of people favoring the preservation of an abstract institution over the quality of actual human lives took to the west lawn of the U.S. Capitol for the March for Marriage, which was organized by the hate group the National Organization for Marriage. Usual suspects like Rick Santorum and Mike Huckabee showed up to spout the usual rhetoric: ensuring that gay people can’t get married is about love not hate, kids need a mother and a father, people need the religious freedom to discriminate against whomever they arbitrarily choose, and gay people are bullies for fighting back at the o.g. bullies who go out of their way to interfere with and cast judgement on their lives. There was also the repeated claim that gay marriage has never been enacted by popular vote, which is just bullshit. Shocking that the “traditional marriage” crowd would resort to lies to keep people persuaded.

You can read more here. This isn’t the only place where I’ve read the turnout was far less than what the people who hate to see gay people have equal rights had anticipated.

According to all polls, public opinion is shifting in favor of quality for gays. And that’s really what this is all about: equality and basic civil rights. The same equality that allows Mike Huckabee and Rick Santorum the right to worship as they wish and to march against gay marriage.

I’m actually very personally disappointed in Huckabee. I think Santorum is a fake who will do anything to advance his floundering political career. But I had more faith in Mick Huckabee and I’m actually hoping that he eventually changes his opinion. It’s happened before with other conservatives.  Former President Bush…the father…supported a same sex wedding in Maine last year. Being gay is NOT exclusive to one particular political party.

Excerpt: Fangsters by Ryan Field

Once again, this is a raw version, before edits, but the final book is no different in content.

Digger sat back in his seat and pouted, as if Anton had punished him for something naughty. Not long after that, they exited the Parkway and drove to a dark road at the edge of Atlantic City where the only signs of life were a few dark homes and a small unkempt strip mall that had a tanning salon, a convenient store, a barber, and a bakery. It seemed like an odd place for a meeting, even for Edwin von Sutton. These Pine Barren vampires were so low end.

            Anton parked in a head on space in front of the tanning salon and they exchanged a quick glance.

            “Are you sure this is the right place?” Digger asked. “I’m not sure I want to even go into a tanning salon.” The UV rays from tanning beds could be just as fatal to vampires as the natural sunlight. Digger could be irresponsible, but he wasn’t a complete fool. “Remember what happened to Nicky Pelora and that broad a few years ago.” Nicky Pelora had been one of the vampires in their clan, a hot lanky young guy who liked pussy as much as Digger liked dick. Nicky had been seeing a woman who worked at a tanning salon. One night after the salon had closed and they thought they were alone, they went into a tanning booth and climbed into a tanning bed naked. While they were screwing around, at the exact moment Nicky entered her, the owner of the salon came in to tan unexpectedly and he turned on the tanning bed with the computer at the front desk. The owner had no idea anyone else was in there, until the tanning bed switched on and the young girl started screaming. The owner found her naked in the tanning bed, without a trace of Nicky Pelora anywhere to be found. Nicky had turned to dust and disappeared while they’d been fucking. The girl had no idea what had happened or where he’d gone. And when she tried to explain all this, everyone thought she’d lost her mind and they put her in a mental hospital. She’d been there ever since.

            Anton checked the address again and said, “This is the place. Maybe von Sutton owns tanning salons? Nothing would surprise me with this clan down here. I feel like I’m at the end of the world.” He felt uncomfortable about this; his dad hadn’t mentioned anything about tanning salons. “Maybe I should call my dad and see what he thinks.”

            Digger opened the door and said, “Fuck that. Let’s just go in and see what’s up. If you call Angelo now he’ll think we can’t handle the job and we’ll both wind up looking like idiots.”

            Anton knew he’d made a good point, so he climbed out of the car and followed Digger to the entrance of the tanning salon. Though most of the lights were out and there was a “Closed” sign hanging in the window, they found the front door unlocked and entered with caution. It smelled of sweet tanning lotion and other fresh hells that made them both cover their noses at the same time. The hot pink walls screamed bad taste, the floors had been covered in dark gray industrial carpet, and the plastic palm trees in every corner insulted Anton to the point of hurting his stomach. When Anton glanced at the walls, he saw posters of attractive humans in bathing suits, lying around on beaches with white sand, smiling as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Even when he’d been a human, Anton had never understood the need to burn and darken his skin in the sun.

            They walked slowly to the middle of the reception area and a voice from somewhere in the back said, “I’m back here. Turn left and I’m at the end of the hall.”

            It didn’t sound like Edwin von Sutton. Anton had never met him, but he’d heard von Sutton had a thick German accent. The voice he’d just heard sounded young, and the accent was not German. “We’re here to see Edwin von Sutton,” Anton said. He didn’t want to go back in case this was some kind of a trap.

            “I’m here in his place,” said the voice. “He couldn’t make it tonight. I’m all alone back here and I’ve been waiting for you.”

            Digger said, “We can’t just stand here. We have to go back.” Then he took a step forward and started walking to the back of the tanning salon before Anton had a chance to stop him.

            Anton would have made whoever was back there come out front. But Digger had already gone back and Anton followed him, glancing into the dark small tanning booths he passed, checking to see there was no one hiding behind a door. He tried to breathe through his mouth because the sickening sweet aroma of cheap tanning lotions made him light-headed.

            At the end of the long dark hallway, they found a thick metal door ajar and saw a small light shining inside what appeared to be some kind of a storage room with a concrete floor and cinderblock walls. When they entered, they found a handsome young man sitting on one of those old fashioned gun metal desks that had once been so popular in schools and police stations. The young man had blond hair and wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt. His legs dangled from the edge of the desk and he was tapping the heel of his heavy black boot against the metal desk with an even beat.

            The moment Digger saw him, he squared his back and started to swagger in that fake-cool way that suggested he wanted to show this guy he was tougher and wouldn’t be intimidated. He walked up to the guy and said, “What the fuck, man? Where’s the fucking German?”

            Anton took a deep breath. He smiled at the guy and said, “You’ll have to excuse my cousin. He’s not very politically correct. He doesn’t mean to be offensive.” Digger had been around the older Italian vampires for so long he’d acquired their generational knack of always having to label people by their nationalities. The plumber was the “Pollock,” the baker was the “Jew,” and the guy who owned the dry cleaning store was always referred to as the “Chinaman.” In most cases, though not politically correct, no one meant any harm. But Anton would never have been this crude…or racist…and he felt the need to apologize for Digger.

            The guy smiled. “No offense taken, buddy. I’m cool. My name is Craig and I know who you are already.” He spoke with a soft even tone, almost too soft and even for Anton’s taste, as if he were about to pounce on them. The one thing that relieved Anton was he knew the guy wasn’t a vampire. But he wasn’t completely human either. He had an edge Anton couldn’t describe right away.
 
Allromanceebooks Link 

Famous Rejection Letters; Gay Fairy Homophobia; FREE Excerpt Chase of a Lifetime

Famous Rejection Letters

I don’t know why, but I can’t help finding the old rejection letters of people who went on to find huge success in life amusing. It shows that the gatekeepers don’t know as much as they tell you they know, and so much in the arts is subjective. The following link will take you to a site where there are a handful of these old rejection letters that people like Andy Warhol and yes, even Gertrude Stein received.

I think this shows unpublished writers so many things, but mostly that you can’t take any one person’s word too much to heart. I also think that nowadays with all the information we have it’s just as important for writers to vet agents as much as it used to be important for agents to vet writers. I came across an agent web site the other day where she disclosed she doesn’t own a TV. I don’t watch much TV myself, and I do think it’s dying out as a medium. However, the fact remains that TV is still a huge part of our culture, and whether you like it or not that’s not going to change any time soon. And if an agent isn’t interested in a HUGE part of our culture just for professional reasons, I would be very careful when querying her.

In any event, you can read more here.

The best advice I ever read actually came from a well known literary agent’s blog. She said something basically to the effect of this: “I’ve never had a big book through the query process. All the big books I’ve had came from finding the writer and nurturing him or her over a period of time.”

Gay Homophobia

A British camp comic, Alan Carr, claims the most homophobia he gets is from other gays. He’s now the face of a new PETA campaign in which he wears pink fairy wings. The slogan is: “Be a Little Fairy For Animals.”

Several people on social media spoke out against the advert, describing it as ‘homophobic’.

In response, Carr said on Twitter: ‘The “fairy” in the @Peta campaign refers to my Tooth Fairy DVD that’s all. Take my advice if you act like a victim you get treated like 1.

‘Don’t worry twitter they’ll be another bandwagon you can jump on in a minute zzzzzzzzzzzzzz ‘Hey and before all you oh so worthy gays get back on your high horse the most homophobia I get is from gays. #selfloathing

Posting a little later, he added: ‘Well that last tweet shut them up!! Ha!

I’m not sure you can be gay and homophobic at the same time. That thought lacks reasoning, and rings a little of sour grapes. But I do actually think that sometimes we all need a better sense of humor. And whether or not you’re laughing at Carr or with him, it’s funny.

More here.

FREE Excerpt Chase of a Lifetime Series

Because we’re approaching a holiday weekend for many, I thought I’d post a free excerpt today and tomorrow from a work in progress. This is from a new book in the Chase of a Lifetime series, tentatively titled, “Chase of a Rainbow.” Trust me, this is a very raw version. I’m only about 40,000 words into the novel and haven’t really taken much time to edit it. But I find that when I’m writing something from a series, the characters return to me faster than when I’m not.

No links. It’s not out yet. I’m shooting for a May release.

Chapter One

After Jim Darling-Mayfield inherited all of Carol Greene’s medical marijuana dispensaries, he decided the legal marijuana business wasn’t for him and he actively set out to sell them to someone who could appreciate that sort of business the same way Carol Greene had loved it.

            Jim and his husband, Len Mayfield, had inherited the dispensaries together, but Len had given Jim permission to do whatever he wanted because Len was now actively working again at the family business, Branson Communications, and he didn’t have the time or the inclination to deal with cannabis. Although Jim had a full time career in marketing, he worked from home most of the time and he didn’t have as much pressure as Len so he usually handled the smaller things.

            On a warm quiet night a few months after Carol Greene’s death, they were sitting in the family room of COAL Ranch…COAL was an acronym for Chase of a Lifetime…in Chatsworth, California and Jim was wondering if he’d ever get to bed that night. He’d put in a full day’s work in his home office on the third floor near the bell tower, he’d picked up their son, Culum, from school, he’d cooked dinner, helped Culum with his homework, and then put him to bed. And now he was working on a marketing project so he could sell the medical marijuana dispensaries to a guy who was the first serious buyer he’d found.

            Len and Jim’s assistant, Arturo, were sitting on the other side of the family room playing cards and half listening to Jim’s computer in the background. They were listening to the computer because Jim was working on a marketing campaign for the guy who wanted to buy the marijuana dispensaries. Jim specialized in high end online marketing and his clients involved people from all walks of online commerce. One of the stipulations in the medical marijuana dispensary sale was that Jim had to agree to continue marketing the dispensaries online for the next two years. He’d been marketing them for Carol Greene and he’d had excellent results. The new buyer wanted this to continue and he’d insisted on having Jim stick around after the sale.

            “Did Culum get off to bed okay?” Len asked, without looking up from the cards Arturo had just dealt him.

            “I read him the Berenstain Bears, tucked him in, and Clinger is next to his bed snoring,” Jim said, without looking up from his desk. Clinger was a large, beige Labrador who would growl at any stranger who came near Culum’s bedroom at night.

            “I’ll go in and check on him before I go to bed,” Len said.

            A voice from the computer made an unusual comment about gay sex and Jim glanced at the screen and frowned.  

            Len stared at the cards in his hands and asked, “And why are we listening to this crap on the computer tonight?”

            Jim sighed. “I told you. The guy who wants to buy the dispensaries has an online advice show about love and relationships for gay men. It’s his fourth webisode. I have to watch it. I really want him to buy the dispensaries and I want to impress him by showing him I watched. We don’t have time for anything as it is now and I want a simpler life, which means selling that business.” Since they’d moved to Chatsworth, they’d turned the ranch into a working ranch, they’d bought the ranch next door and turned it into a touristy gay dude ranch, and Len took over full time responsibilities for Branson Communications. They hadn’t planned any of this. The goal had been to move to Chatsworth and start a working ranch so Len could retire from investment banking and they could live simpler, quieter lives. Len’s ultimate dream had always been owning a working ranch. But then Len’s father passed away and he left Len a billion dollar communications corporation and Len couldn’t refuse. There was no one else to do it. Doris Branson, Len’s mother, knew nothing about business. And Len’s much younger brother, Caleb Branson, was now an ex Catholic priest who had come out of the closet and he was off somewhere in the world trying to find himself. Len had been estranged from his family for many years and Len’s mother and brother, Caleb, were willing to reconcile. Fate seemed to take control and Jim and Len found themselves in positions they couldn’t refuse even if they tried. Even the medical marijuana dispensaries happened by accident. Carol Greene had died saving their son’s life, and Jim felt a posthumous obligation to her heroic actions.

            Len reached for a card and said, “This guy on the computer sucks. I don’t even know what he’s talking about now. Put on some music.”

            Jim looked at the computer screen and frowned. Hal Robertson was a middle aged man with a paunch and no hair who had always wanted to be an A-list celebrity. In order to make a living until he became a star, he’d fallen into real estate and he’d done very well. His client list included major Hollywood celebrities and some of the most influential people in the world. But that wasn’t enough for Hal. He still wanted to be a star many years later and like so many others without talent he’d discovered the Internet as a viable resource. This series of webisodes he was doing concentrated on romantic advice to gay men who couldn’t seem to find the right person. While he sat in a chair in his home office in front of a webcam, viewers would chat with him and ask him questions on anything that ranged from gay sex to love. On that particular night he was answering a question about whether or not two bottoms can make a lasting relationship, Jim had a feeling no one else was actually watching Hal and he made the questions up himself.

            Even Arturo seemed to be having a problem listening to Hal that night. “I can’t believe he just said that. There’s something wrong with this dude.” Hal had just told someone two bottoms can make it work, but sometimes they need to invest in a double-headed dildo.

            Jim smiled. “Well, he’s not totally wrong. I don’t see why two bottoms can’t last if they have a double-headed dildo.” He was only joking around to see how Len and Arturo would react. He knew they both had strong opinions on this topic.

            Len sent Jim a look and asked, “How would you like it if I got a nice big double-headed dildo for us?” He didn’t mind the fact that Arturo was in the room. Jim and Len had been experimenting with three-way sex for a while now, and they’d recently invited Arturo into their bedroom. Arturo had been seeing Len’s brother, Caleb, for a short time, but after years of being a priest Caleb wasn’t ready for a relationship and he’d left the US for a while to figure out his life. It was ironic because Jim had always thought Caleb would be the one to get hurt by Arturo. When this happened, Arturo had been devastated and Jim and Len had consoled him. One thing led to another and they wound up in bed one night. But it was always clear there was no emotional romantic attachment other than friendship; just a physical act of sex between two grown, adult men.

            When Arturo heard Len’s comment about the dildo, he laughed so hard he lost a card in his hand.

            As Arturo bent down to pick up his card, Jim sent Len a glance and said, “You know that’s not going to happen. If you ever decide you don’t want to top anymore I’ll be more than happy, if you want, to become the top in this marriage.” He had to hold back a smile. He knew how Len would react. “I’ve been dying to top you for years, husband.”

            Len squared his back and said, “Well, you know that’s not going to happen any time soon, husband. Besides, you couldn’t go a week without getting tagged. You’d be climbing the bell tower.”

            Arturo dropped another card and laughed harder.

            Jim looked at the computer screen again and smiled. He couldn’t argue the point and he knew it. Although Jim could be versatile when he wanted to be, he’d always been honest with himself about sex. He liked being the bottom, he liked being more submissive in bed, and he even preferred being around aggressive top men like Len and Arturo when he wasn’t having sex. The thought of going longer than a week without having a man that way made his hands shaky just thinking about it.  

            On the computer, Hal started talking about how two bottoms in a relationship could use the double-headed dildo and Jim turned the volume up higher. Hal said, “The best way is for both guys to get on all fours and back into each other.”

            Len groaned aloud and said, “I think that’s the only way to go in that kind of situation.”

            Arturo laughed and said, “I’ve actually always wondered about this myself, to be honest. I once dated a guy who would only top and we didn’t even know what to do with each other. He kept trying to turn me around in bed, and I kept trying to turn him around. It was very frustrating.”

            Jim looked at Arturo and smiled. Although he hadn’t expected anything sexual to happen with Arturo when he’d first hired him fresh out of college, he wasn’t disappointed that it had happened. Arturo had that longish, messy dark hair, and always the scruffy dark beard. His torso was smooth and muscular but his legs were dark and fuzzy. There were times when Jim just loved rubbing his face up and down Arturo’s legs.

            Len looked at Arturo and said, “That happened to me once, too. I was like what the fuck, man? Turn over. Lift those legs up, baby.” Len tended to get overly aggressive and macho for show at times. Jim always thought it was his need to overcompensate for spending the majority of his life in the closet. He couldn’t help himself; it was the least of Jim’s worries.  

            “What did you do?” Arturo asked.

            Jim rolled his eyes. “Yes, what did you do, husband? Did he lift up his legs?” He didn’t show it, but tended to get a little jealous when Len boasted about past lovers.

            Len shrugged and picked up another card. “I gave up and found myself a hot little power bottom named Jim Darling who won’t put his pretty legs down.”

            Jim smiled and said, “You’re disgusting.” They had the same unusual sense of humor and it always kept them laughing about stupid things, especially stupid things regarding sex.
To be continued tomorrow…
 

Famous Rejection Letters; Gay Fairy Homophobia; FREE Excerpt Chase of a Lifetime

Famous Rejection Letters

I don’t know why, but I can’t help finding the old rejection letters of people who went on to find huge success in life amusing. It shows that the gatekeepers don’t know as much as they tell you they know, and so much in the arts is subjective. The following link will take you to a site where there are a handful of these old rejection letters that people like Andy Warhol and yes, even Gertrude Stein received.

I think this shows unpublished writers so many things, but mostly that you can’t take any one person’s word too much to heart. I also think that nowadays with all the information we have it’s just as important for writers to vet agents as much as it used to be important for agents to vet writers. I came across an agent web site the other day where she disclosed she doesn’t own a TV. I don’t watch much TV myself, and I do think it’s dying out as a medium. However, the fact remains that TV is still a huge part of our culture, and whether you like it or not that’s not going to change any time soon. And if an agent isn’t interested in a HUGE part of our culture just for professional reasons, I would be very careful when querying her.

In any event, you can read more here.

The best advice I ever read actually came from a well known literary agent’s blog. She said something basically to the effect of this: “I’ve never had a big book through the query process. All the big books I’ve had came from finding the writer and nurturing him or her over a period of time.”

Gay Homophobia

A British camp comic, Alan Carr, claims the most homophobia he gets is from other gays. He’s now the face of a new PETA campaign in which he wears pink fairy wings. The slogan is: “Be a Little Fairy For Animals.”

Several people on social media spoke out against the advert, describing it as ‘homophobic’.

In response, Carr said on Twitter: ‘The “fairy” in the @Peta campaign refers to my Tooth Fairy DVD that’s all. Take my advice if you act like a victim you get treated like 1.

‘Don’t worry twitter they’ll be another bandwagon you can jump on in a minute zzzzzzzzzzzzzz ‘Hey and before all you oh so worthy gays get back on your high horse the most homophobia I get is from gays. #selfloathing

Posting a little later, he added: ‘Well that last tweet shut them up!! Ha!

I’m not sure you can be gay and homophobic at the same time. That thought lacks reasoning, and rings a little of sour grapes. But I do actually think that sometimes we all need a better sense of humor. And whether or not you’re laughing at Carr or with him, it’s funny.

More here.

FREE Excerpt Chase of a Lifetime Series

Because we’re approaching a holiday weekend for many, I thought I’d post a free excerpt today and tomorrow from a work in progress. This is from a new book in the Chase of a Lifetime series, tentatively titled, “Chase of a Rainbow.” Trust me, this is a very raw version. I’m only about 40,000 words into the novel and haven’t really taken much time to edit it. But I find that when I’m writing something from a series, the characters return to me faster than when I’m not.

No links. It’s not out yet. I’m shooting for a May release.

Chapter One

After Jim Darling-Mayfield inherited all of Carol Greene’s medical marijuana dispensaries, he decided the legal marijuana business wasn’t for him and he actively set out to sell them to someone who could appreciate that sort of business the same way Carol Greene had loved it.

            Jim and his husband, Len Mayfield, had inherited the dispensaries together, but Len had given Jim permission to do whatever he wanted because Len was now actively working again at the family business, Branson Communications, and he didn’t have the time or the inclination to deal with cannabis. Although Jim had a full time career in marketing, he worked from home most of the time and he didn’t have as much pressure as Len so he usually handled the smaller things.

            On a warm quiet night a few months after Carol Greene’s death, they were sitting in the family room of COAL Ranch…COAL was an acronym for Chase of a Lifetime…in Chatsworth, California and Jim was wondering if he’d ever get to bed that night. He’d put in a full day’s work in his home office on the third floor near the bell tower, he’d picked up their son, Culum, from school, he’d cooked dinner, helped Culum with his homework, and then put him to bed. And now he was working on a marketing project so he could sell the medical marijuana dispensaries to a guy who was the first serious buyer he’d found.

            Len and Jim’s assistant, Arturo, were sitting on the other side of the family room playing cards and half listening to Jim’s computer in the background. They were listening to the computer because Jim was working on a marketing campaign for the guy who wanted to buy the marijuana dispensaries. Jim specialized in high end online marketing and his clients involved people from all walks of online commerce. One of the stipulations in the medical marijuana dispensary sale was that Jim had to agree to continue marketing the dispensaries online for the next two years. He’d been marketing them for Carol Greene and he’d had excellent results. The new buyer wanted this to continue and he’d insisted on having Jim stick around after the sale.

            “Did Culum get off to bed okay?” Len asked, without looking up from the cards Arturo had just dealt him.

            “I read him the Berenstain Bears, tucked him in, and Clinger is next to his bed snoring,” Jim said, without looking up from his desk. Clinger was a large, beige Labrador who would growl at any stranger who came near Culum’s bedroom at night.

            “I’ll go in and check on him before I go to bed,” Len said.

            A voice from the computer made an unusual comment about gay sex and Jim glanced at the screen and frowned.  

            Len stared at the cards in his hands and asked, “And why are we listening to this crap on the computer tonight?”

            Jim sighed. “I told you. The guy who wants to buy the dispensaries has an online advice show about love and relationships for gay men. It’s his fourth webisode. I have to watch it. I really want him to buy the dispensaries and I want to impress him by showing him I watched. We don’t have time for anything as it is now and I want a simpler life, which means selling that business.” Since they’d moved to Chatsworth, they’d turned the ranch into a working ranch, they’d bought the ranch next door and turned it into a touristy gay dude ranch, and Len took over full time responsibilities for Branson Communications. They hadn’t planned any of this. The goal had been to move to Chatsworth and start a working ranch so Len could retire from investment banking and they could live simpler, quieter lives. Len’s ultimate dream had always been owning a working ranch. But then Len’s father passed away and he left Len a billion dollar communications corporation and Len couldn’t refuse. There was no one else to do it. Doris Branson, Len’s mother, knew nothing about business. And Len’s much younger brother, Caleb Branson, was now an ex Catholic priest who had come out of the closet and he was off somewhere in the world trying to find himself. Len had been estranged from his family for many years and Len’s mother and brother, Caleb, were willing to reconcile. Fate seemed to take control and Jim and Len found themselves in positions they couldn’t refuse even if they tried. Even the medical marijuana dispensaries happened by accident. Carol Greene had died saving their son’s life, and Jim felt a posthumous obligation to her heroic actions.

            Len reached for a card and said, “This guy on the computer sucks. I don’t even know what he’s talking about now. Put on some music.”

            Jim looked at the computer screen and frowned. Hal Robertson was a middle aged man with a paunch and no hair who had always wanted to be an A-list celebrity. In order to make a living until he became a star, he’d fallen into real estate and he’d done very well. His client list included major Hollywood celebrities and some of the most influential people in the world. But that wasn’t enough for Hal. He still wanted to be a star many years later and like so many others without talent he’d discovered the Internet as a viable resource. This series of webisodes he was doing concentrated on romantic advice to gay men who couldn’t seem to find the right person. While he sat in a chair in his home office in front of a webcam, viewers would chat with him and ask him questions on anything that ranged from gay sex to love. On that particular night he was answering a question about whether or not two bottoms can make a lasting relationship, Jim had a feeling no one else was actually watching Hal and he made the questions up himself.

            Even Arturo seemed to be having a problem listening to Hal that night. “I can’t believe he just said that. There’s something wrong with this dude.” Hal had just told someone two bottoms can make it work, but sometimes they need to invest in a double-headed dildo.

            Jim smiled. “Well, he’s not totally wrong. I don’t see why two bottoms can’t last if they have a double-headed dildo.” He was only joking around to see how Len and Arturo would react. He knew they both had strong opinions on this topic.

            Len sent Jim a look and asked, “How would you like it if I got a nice big double-headed dildo for us?” He didn’t mind the fact that Arturo was in the room. Jim and Len had been experimenting with three-way sex for a while now, and they’d recently invited Arturo into their bedroom. Arturo had been seeing Len’s brother, Caleb, for a short time, but after years of being a priest Caleb wasn’t ready for a relationship and he’d left the US for a while to figure out his life. It was ironic because Jim had always thought Caleb would be the one to get hurt by Arturo. When this happened, Arturo had been devastated and Jim and Len had consoled him. One thing led to another and they wound up in bed one night. But it was always clear there was no emotional romantic attachment other than friendship; just a physical act of sex between two grown, adult men.

            When Arturo heard Len’s comment about the dildo, he laughed so hard he lost a card in his hand.

            As Arturo bent down to pick up his card, Jim sent Len a glance and said, “You know that’s not going to happen. If you ever decide you don’t want to top anymore I’ll be more than happy, if you want, to become the top in this marriage.” He had to hold back a smile. He knew how Len would react. “I’ve been dying to top you for years, husband.”

            Len squared his back and said, “Well, you know that’s not going to happen any time soon, husband. Besides, you couldn’t go a week without getting tagged. You’d be climbing the bell tower.”

            Arturo dropped another card and laughed harder.

            Jim looked at the computer screen again and smiled. He couldn’t argue the point and he knew it. Although Jim could be versatile when he wanted to be, he’d always been honest with himself about sex. He liked being the bottom, he liked being more submissive in bed, and he even preferred being around aggressive top men like Len and Arturo when he wasn’t having sex. The thought of going longer than a week without having a man that way made his hands shaky just thinking about it.  

            On the computer, Hal started talking about how two bottoms in a relationship could use the double-headed dildo and Jim turned the volume up higher. Hal said, “The best way is for both guys to get on all fours and back into each other.”

            Len groaned aloud and said, “I think that’s the only way to go in that kind of situation.”

            Arturo laughed and said, “I’ve actually always wondered about this myself, to be honest. I once dated a guy who would only top and we didn’t even know what to do with each other. He kept trying to turn me around in bed, and I kept trying to turn him around. It was very frustrating.”

            Jim looked at Arturo and smiled. Although he hadn’t expected anything sexual to happen with Arturo when he’d first hired him fresh out of college, he wasn’t disappointed that it had happened. Arturo had that longish, messy dark hair, and always the scruffy dark beard. His torso was smooth and muscular but his legs were dark and fuzzy. There were times when Jim just loved rubbing his face up and down Arturo’s legs.

            Len looked at Arturo and said, “That happened to me once, too. I was like what the fuck, man? Turn over. Lift those legs up, baby.” Len tended to get overly aggressive and macho for show at times. Jim always thought it was his need to overcompensate for spending the majority of his life in the closet. He couldn’t help himself; it was the least of Jim’s worries.  

            “What did you do?” Arturo asked.

            Jim rolled his eyes. “Yes, what did you do, husband? Did he lift up his legs?” He didn’t show it, but tended to get a little jealous when Len boasted about past lovers.

            Len shrugged and picked up another card. “I gave up and found myself a hot little power bottom named Jim Darling who won’t put his pretty legs down.”

            Jim smiled and said, “You’re disgusting.” They had the same unusual sense of humor and it always kept them laughing about stupid things, especially stupid things regarding sex.
To be continued tomorrow…
 

Depp-Kimmel Gay Kiss; FREE Gay EXcerpt; Neil Patrick Harris on Letterman

Depp-Kimmel Gay Kiss


There was a kiss between Johnny Depp and Jimmy Kimmel a short time ago that everyone seemed to find amusing, and they repeated the kiss once again this week.

Johnny Depp kissed Jimmy Kimmel on live TV on Monday – the second time in a row that the pair have kissed during an appearance by Depp on the show.

Depp came prepared with a stick of lip balm which he repeatedly applied during the interview to let Kimmel know what was coming.

You can read about it here, and see a clip.

I have to be honest. Normally I would take offense to something like this because even though it’s funny at times it does call attention to the fact that two men kissing is, and always has been, considered taboo (or laughable). There’s also the underlying hint of shame. But in this case I don’t find it offensive because it’s handled well, and because it is bringing something taboo out into the mainstream. As a kid I can still recall when it was considered taboo…or shocking…for people of different races to kiss on TV. It took time to break out of that mold. And I highly doubt that if a white man kissed Oprah Winfrey on TV now anyone would find it the slightest bit amusing. In fact, I would dare them to laugh.  

Now I’d like to see Jimmy Kimmel and Neil Patrick Harris kiss.

Neil Patrick Harris on Letterman

There were rumors going around that openly gay Neil Patrick Harris was a strong contender to replace David Letterman when Letterman retires in about a year. The rumors were put to rest recently when it was announced Stephen Colbert would replace Letterman instead of Harris.

Harris took to Twitter to congratulate the host of The Colbert Report who will take over for Letterman next year.

He tweeted: ‘I’m thrilled for @StephenatHome replacing Dave. He’s a fantastic choice. I’m a huge fan. Colbert is rad.

My first thought when I heard this was WTF? If you ask me, and not because Neil Patrick Harris is gay, I think CBS just handed Jimmy Fallon the title of King of Late Night Television on a silver platter. I would have chosen Johnny Knoxville. It’s time for something different.

In any event, you can read more here.

FREE Gay Excerpt

I have a new book coming out soon in the Bad Boy Billionaire series, Palm Beach Stud. I’ll update with links and more info as I get it, but here’s an excerpt and description. You can find it here at the publisher’s web site.

Description:

The interesting thing about true love is that it never really ends for those who know what it means to love openly and honestly with all their hearts. It’s something that’s hard to define, and yet it’s so deep in the soul it can’t be ignored. And Brady Bradley is no exception to this rule when he finds himself marrying a man he respects and admires, but doesn’t love as much as his first husband. Brady is one of those people who are damaged by love at a young age, and he’s never recovered. All he’s looking for with his second husband is trust, honesty, and a sense of emotional security he never could find with his bad boy first husband. But one week before the wedding, Brady’s ex-husband returns to Palm Beach with his new, younger boyfriend and a business partner who wants to buy Brady’s family home. Although everyone—including Brady’s family—loves his billionaire ex-husband, Brady only sees the man who cheated on him and ruined his entire life. Will Brady be able to move forward with his life and marry the sensible, practical man in a bowtie? Or will he wind up devastated again by the same brand of daydreaming that once left him wrecked?

Here’s the excerpt…raw version, but no much different than the published novel.

 

“Dude, where are you?” Lawrence said. He was shouting in the main hall now. Brady had been amazed at how much Lawrence had changed since Christmas. Lawrence had grown a few inches, his body had filled out, and his voice had taken on a stronger, deeper tone. He was now in the beginning stages of what Brady portended would be a very good looking young man with dark straight hair.
            Brady slumped down on the beige moiré wing chair to avoid being seen. He’d promised Lawrence he’d take him to the beach that afternoon and he’d been prolonging it for as long as he could. He loved his sixteen year old younger brother, but the ten year age difference between them often made Brady feel more like his dad than his brother. And all these wedding plans were starting to make Brady’s right eyelid twitch. He’d wanted a simple wedding, with just family and a few close friends. But when Michele heard he was engaged to be married to Farman, she’d insisted on a large wedding, at the house, where she could walk Brady down the aisle. For Michele it was more of a political statement than an emotional statement. She’d always supported Brady’s lifestyle as a gay man and she wanted all her friends to know this. If Brady had argued against having a large wedding with Farman, he knew this would have hurt his mother’s feelings, and she’d always been so supportive of his lifestyle he just couldn’t do that.
            Lawrence walked into the drawing room and glanced down at the sofa. He kicked the floor with his big sneaker and sighed aloud. When he turned and saw Brady in the wing chair, he frowned and asked, “When are we going to the beach?” Though he was on the verges of manhood, at that moment he still sounded like a little boy.
            “In a few minutes,” Brady said. “I have to choose a thank you note.” They had access to their own private beach, but Lawrence had insisted on going to the beach at The Breakers because there were more people his age…or at least he hoped there would be. He was straight and he’d reached that age where he’d just discovered girls. Farman’s law firm represented The Breakers and Brady now had full access to all their facilities whenever he wanted. So he’d promised to take Lawrence there at least once a week while he was home in Palm Beach.
            “How freaking hard could it be to pick a thank you note?” Lawrence asked. “Seriously, man, it’s getting late now.” He glanced down at the stack of samples and pointed to a pink affair with black letters. “Choose that one. It stands out from the rest.”
            Brady had narrowed it down to two by then. He’d been deciding between the white with gold embossed letters, and the cream with chocolate brown letters. He glanced at the sample Lawrence had just selected and made a face. “Oh, if that doesn’t scream gay wedding I don’t know what does. Maybe I should ask if they have it in bright purple.”
            “But it is a gay wedding,” Lawrence said. “What’s the big deal?” He really didn’t get it. He’d always known Brady was gay and he’d never been aware of the stereotypes Brady had faced all his life.
            “I don’t feel like explaining right now,” Brady said. He decided on the white with gold letters and stood up from the chair. “But there is no way I’m sending out hot pink thank you notes with big black letters, thank you.” Then he left Lawrence standing there with a confused expression and went to look for his mother in the conservatory.
            Lawrence followed him into the conservatory where they found Michele alone near a fountain that mimicked the infamous Manneken Pis in Brussels…the bronze statue of the little boy peeing. She’d recently had her medium length straight blond hair touched up and she was wearing a simple white dress with sensible high heels. When she heard them approach, she turned and said, “I think we’re all set with the florist. He just left and we finalized everything.” She spoke with a slight Boston accent, but nothing too pronounced.
            Brady knew if he didn’t stop her she would continue and go into a detailed explanation of the floral arrangements for the wedding, and since he didn’t really care, and he trusted her completely, he decided to change the subject fast. “I’m taking Lawrence to The Breakers. I promised him we’d use their beach today. Thanks for taking care of all this, mother. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” Unlike a lot of the people he knew his own age, he’d always called her mother instead of mom. She’d never objected.
            Michele frowned at Lawrence. He was now standing in the doorway the led into the conservatory gaping at his smart phone. “I don’t see why he insists on going over there to use their beach. It’s so pointless when you think about how many people would love to have a private beach all their own like we have right here.”
            “I’m bored,” Lawrence said. “That’s why I want to go there. I have nothing to do, and I don’t have any friends here.”
            “Can’t you just read a book, dear,” Michele said. “When I was your age my teachers gave us a reading list for the summer that kept me more than busy.”
            “It didn’t stop you from eloping and marrying Brady’s dad at sixteen,” Lawrence said. He tended to speak without thinking first.
            Michele sighed.
            Brady said, “That’s a horrible thing to say to your mother.”
            “It’s true,” Lawrence said. “I didn’t mean it in a horrible way.”
            Before Brady could reply, Michele reached for his arm and said, “He’s right. I’m not upset about it. I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t made the best choices in husbands.” She’d been married three times so far, and each time it had ended in divorce. Brady’s father, Rick, had been the first. He’d been a semi-professional race car driver she’d met the summer she’d turned sixteen and she claimed it had been love at first sight. She’d lied about her age and she’d told him she was nineteen instead of sixteen. When her father refused to let her see Rick anymore, she talked Rick into eloping and they were married in Las Vegas. The marriage to Rick lasted about two years…until Michele found him cheating on her with another man. How could she have known? So she divorced him and married a guy named Pierre Framboise. That marriage lasted four years…until he found Michele cheating on him with Lawrence’s father, Morton Johnson. So she divorced Pierre, married Morton, and they remained together for six years…until she found him cheating on her with another woman. The cycle never seemed to end.
            Brady sighed. He put his arm around Michele and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t have the best track record either,” he said. He rarely even mentioned Kevin’s name aloud. But he wanted his mother to feel less isolated.
            “I have a feeling all that is going to change,” Michele said. “I think Farman is the most perfect man I’ve ever met. And I think you’re going to live happily ever after with him, dear.” She hugged Brady and kissed his cheek this time.
            “Can we just go to the beach?” Lawrence said. “Or are you two going to join hands and start singing We Are the World?”
            Brady laughed and said, “You go out front and wait in the car. I have to go upstairs and change. I’ll be right down.”
            Fifteen minutes later, Brady found Lawrence leaning against his Porsche staring down at his smart phone. On his way to the car, he found his uncle, Jackson, sitting on a bench all hunched over looking at his own phone. Jackson had flown down from Maine to be there for the wedding. He was Michelle’s younger brother, and as openly gay as Brady. On that particular afternoon he wore a pair of navy shorts, a white polo shirt, and white athletic shoes. He’d been having a clandestine love affair for many years with a well-known…closeted…politician in Washington, D.C. and they often communicated through text messages now. Michele had only been eighteen years old when Brady had been born. Jackson was ten years younger, and looked more like Brady’s age.

 

 

  

MA State Rep. HIV+; Sally Field’s Gay Son; FREE Gay Excerpt Friday Sexual Transitioning

MA State Rep. HIV+

I think this is groundbreaking for several reasons. Massachusetts State Representative  Carl Sciortino recently disclosed he’s living with HIV, he resigned from office, and will soon be heading the AIDS Action Committee of Massachusetts.

‘As a gay man living with HIV, I am honored to lead one of the country’s oldest and most effective organizations in the battle against this disease which has raged on over 30 years,’ Sciortino said in a statement.

He mentions a few of his plans, which includes lowering HIV diagnosis rates.

But I think one of the least discussed aspects of this announcement is that he actually disclosed his HIV status in public. There’s been a long standing unspoken rule within the gay community that anyone who is HIV positive is mentioned with whispers and rarely does anyone ever talk about it openly. I will do a much longer in-depth post on this in the future from experiences I’ve personally had.

You can read more here.

Sally Field’s Gay Son

Although Sally  and I are not related at all (smile), this is interesting because Tony and I recently watched a Barbra Streisand concert on PBS where Streisand’s openly gay son, Jason Gould, sang a song with her. Gould came out at the age of 21. According to this Gould was diagnosed as HIV+ in 2003. (He’s very good, and the PBS special was actually very good…and I think most people who come to this blog know I’m not normally a huge fan of the torch song thing.) I think when we see high profile celebrities speak openly about *anything* LGBT related it helps people who haven’t come out…or are thinking about coming out.

Sally Field, best known for her title role in the 1960’s television series The Flying Nun, has written about her experiences raising a gay son along two straight sons in a letter aimed at bolstering support for the Human Rights Campaign’s (HRC) efforts to stop state legislatures passing laws that legalize discrimination against LGBTI people.

You can read more here. Field has always been active with social and political issues, and usually does it with grace.

FREE Gay Excerpt Friday Sexual Transitioning

I posted about my upcoming short that will be released by German publisher, Bruno Gmunder, yesterday. It’s a short sequel to my erotic romance, Fangsters: Clan of the Jersey Boys, and if I don’t post something about it now I might forget about it. Shorts tend to get lost in the proverbial shuffle sometimes…and they are actually my favorite forms of fiction, both reading and writing. The title is Sexual Transitioning. And it is subject to changes I might not be aware of because the publisher edits this one, not me. This is the raw version. A word of warning, though. If you haven’t read the novel, Fangsters, there might be a spoiler in this story. For those who have read Fangsters, I think this will only add to the original story line. 

The night Anton and Digger decided to turn Leo would haunt Anton throughout eternity. He hadn’t wanted to turn him that soon. He’d wanted to think about it and talk it over with Leo to see if he was ready to become a vampire. Of course Digger, always the bad boy careless one, shrugged and laughed it off. Digger acted on impulse and made all his decisions without taking consequences into consideration. He’d wanted to turn Leo much earlier and Anton had been the one who had refused.

            Anton hadn’t expected to fall in love with Digger and Leo at the same time. He knew Digger and Leo hadn’t expected they would fall in love with each other, and with him. The concept of three so completely different men loving each other this way could only be described as complicated at best under normal circumstances. But when two of the lovers were vampires it went beyond complicated and veered into pure unabashed confusion.

            The night they were on their way home from the nightclub where Leo had just won first prize for having the best ass in the gay bar changed their three-way relationship forever. If that truck hadn’t come from nowhere, or if Leo hadn’t walked into the middle of the street without looking, there would have been time to talk and plan and organize the future in a more coherent way. Leo would have had time to adjust to the idea being a vampire and maybe his transition wouldn’t have been so intense and violent.

            There were nights after the accident, after they’d turned Leo, where Anton and Digger would talk about what had happened and shake their heads. Digger remembered it differently than Anton. He didn’t remember the exact details. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention, which Anton knew wouldn’t have been unusual. Digger didn’t even remember Leo in the middle of the street dying, with his leg severed, losing so much blood he could barely speak. But Anton would never forget that night, not a single detail. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Leo look up at him and say, “I love you guys. I think I’m dying, Anton. I don’t think I’m going to live.” Anton would never forget when Leo begged him and said, “Hold me tighter, Anton. Don’t let me go. I love you both so much. Hold me. I’m so scared. I can’t feel my leg anymore.” Nothing in Anton’s mortal or immortal life had ever left such an impact on him.

            Of course Digger didn’t remember it happening the same way. No matter how many times Anton would disabuse Digger’s convoluted recollections, Digger would reply the same way. He claimed there was no way Leo could have spoken those words or said those things with his leg severed that way. Digger would look at Anton and say, “I should know. It couldn’t have happened that way. I worked in the emergency room in a hospital when I took that summer off one year. I saw how humans deal with pain, and I know there’s no way Leo could have been that conscious in that condition and said those things. It’s just not realistic. No sane person would believe it.”

            Anton usually let Digger get away with a lot, but not this. He wouldn’t back down. “I don’t fucking care where you worked one summer, or what the fuck you did in an emergency room. I was there, man. I held Leo in my arms and I heard him speaking to me, begging me. He knew he was dying. He did say those things.”

            Digger wouldn’t agree, but he would back down and change the subject with a dismissive tone. Perhaps because he knew he couldn’t win, or perhaps because he knew Anton needed to rationalize his motives for turning Leo that night. And it’s not that Anton had any regrets about what he’d done at the moment. He’d agreed to turn Leo at that moment to keep him from dying and to save his leg and he’d been prepared to deal with the consequences. It’s just that Anton never in his wildest dreams thought the transition from human to vampire would be so intense.

            After they turned Leo right there in the middle of the street, they brought him back to Digger’s apartment in Newark. They figured he would be safe there. Anton had to deal with some family business for his dad the following night, but Digger could stay with Leo to make sure he didn’t get into trouble until Anton returned. Newly turned vampires often have different reactions. Some are calm and slide right into their new immortal lives without a hitch. Some can be moody and won’t speak for days. Others can be nasty and all they want is to make the first fresh kill and suck human blood. Anton once saw a newly turned vampire crawl into a hole in the ground and refuse to come out for months. He drank the blood of voles and moles. It was always different with each human turned, and no one could predict the outcome. In Leo’s case, Anton didn’t think there was much to be worried about because Leo had been such a sweet, tender, kind human.

 

The Sweetest Apple; FREE Excerpt; Lambdas; Twinks, Whoa Dude!

The Sweetest Apple

Here’s the cover of my newest release in the Second Chance series, The Sweetest Apple. It’s the fourth e-book in the series, it’s a 27,000 word novella, and it’s being launched today as a .99 e-book in most of the popular venues where e-books are sold.

You can find it here on Smashwords, and I’ll update with more links as I get them. (It takes a while for these things to upload and I’m never sure how long it will be with anyone.) For those who aren’t familiar with Smashwords, there’s an adult content filter at the top right corner on the homepage you have to click in order to see erotic romances. It’s simple to do…as long as you know it’s there. (I didn’t at first.)

There’s also a blurb with all the links, and an excerpt. And I’m posting another free excerpt below right now that you won’t find on any web sites other than this.

Update: purchase link for allromanceebooks.com

Update 2: purchase link for Amazon (thanks to social media I found out before Amazon notified me this time)

FREE Excerpt

This is an excerpt from Chapter Four of The Sweetest Apple.

The one thing Matty would always remember about his first day in New Orleans would be the multitude of exotic tropical plants strewn throughout the new restaurant that had hired him fresh out of culinary school. He entered La Bonne Auberge through the front door, with his suitcases still in his hands, and glanced around at the narrow tables and rickety chairs shoved in between tall potted palms, rickety ficus trees, and bare wilted hibiscus trees that tried too hard to be topiaries.

The second thing he noticed made him wince, and then blink. The dark walls hiding behind all the trees had been painted in a poor version of the popular art of faux marble finish. The trim was another bad example of faux marble, only lighter and grayer than the walls. Instead of making the striations all go in one direction as with real marble, the artist who had faux finished these walls had taken it upon himself to turn, swirl, and feather his striations in so many different directions Matty wanted to grab a chair to keep from getting dizzy.

As Matty glanced around the main seating area wondering how people could actually sit in such small awkward chairs, he started to have serious second thoughts about moving from New York to New Orleans on impulse. He’d seen an ad for a job that had looked interesting a month earlier. The ad stated the job required chef skills and managerial skills to help a new restaurant owner get his business off the ground. What really impressed Matty the most was the ad also stated the owner wanted to give someone willing to work hard a chance to own a share of the restaurant. At the time, Matty was ready to leave culinary school and involved in a sticky relationship with the elderly male instructor who had paid his way through school. The elderly man had been suggesting Matty move in with him and they open a restaurant together. But Matty didn’t see himself sucking old balls for the next ten or twenty years of his life. So he jumped at the chance to get away from New York as fast as he could. Only he hadn’t done any research about this restaurant in New Orleans.

When he set his suitcases down on the crooked wooden floor, he heard a squeak and looked up to find the door leading to the kitchen open. A fair-haired young man wearing a white apron entered the main seating area and sent him a startled glance. A second later, the young man smiled and said, “I’m Archie Bartholomew. Welcome to La Bonne Auberge.”

Matty smiled and walked toward him. He extended his right hand and said, “I’m Matthew Allan. Everyone calls me Matty. It’s nice to meet you.”

Archie must have thought he was a customer. He lifted his chin and said, “I didn’t expect you this early. It’s nice to finally meet you.” They’d been corresponding through telephone calls and written letters. Archie had an e-mail account, but Matty didn’t actually get his own e-mail account until l998, about four years later.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Bartholomew,” Matty said.

“Call me Archie. Did you have a good trip down?”

  “Very nice,” Matty said. It was the worst trip he’d ever taken. He didn’t own a car, and in order to save money he’d taken a bus. The woman behind him had two of the most annoying children he’d ever come across. He still wasn’t sure which was worse: the whining or the crying.

Archie extended his arms and looked around the main seating area and said, “So what do you think of the place?”

Matty pressed his palm to his stomach and looked around again. Trying to be as tactful as possible, he smiled and said, “You have so many tropical plants.”

Archie’s face beamed with pride. “I wanted to go with that old Katherine Hepburn movie theme, from Suddenly Last Summer. I’m glad you noticed.”

“Wasn’t Suddenly Last Summer that dark movie with Elizabeth Taylor where she’s in a mental ward?” Matty asked. He wasn’t certain. He’d seen parts of the movie once and it had bored him to death. The thought of decorating a restaurant around that film seemed more like a self-indulgent mistake.

Archie smiled wider and rubbed his palms together. “Yes, it was. And I wanted the restaurant to have that look. I’m big on themes.”

Matty glanced at a drooping hibiscus in a black plastic pot and said, “Yeah, well. I see what you mean.” He figured he’d better change the subject fast before he got into trouble with his new boss. It was too late to do anything at that point. He needed the job to survive. “I haven’t even stopped at my new apartment yet. I came here first. I should go there and get settled first and I’ll be back in time to start work in about an hour.”

“Let me show you the kitchen first,” Archie said. “I can’t wait for you to see the specials I came up with for tonight’s crowd.”

Matty forced a smile and said, “I can’t wait,” in a deadpan tone he knew Archie wouldn’t pick up on. And as he followed Archie into the kitchen he mentally prepared himself for the fresh hells he suspected were waiting for him in there.

In spite of the poor design and uncomfortable atmosphere, in the weeks that followed Matty noticed how well Archie planned everything in advance and how accurate he could be with all the financial details involved in running a business. Archie knew how to deal with suppliers and how to negotiate for the best deals. He kept such impeccable records in the back office the shelves behind his desk resembled a public library. Archie even kept every receipt for every purchase he made, and he asked Matty to do the same thing so he could write them off as tax deductions. Archie tended to focus on all the technical details that Matty tended to ignore so he could focus more on the creative aspects of running a high end restaurant in New Orleans.

Archie must have noticed Matty’s flair for all things visual, because he didn’t complain when Matty suggested they remove a few of the potted plants to open up the main seating area. He didn’t complain when more people started eating there every night after Matty suggested they remove all the plants and repaint the walls a nice even shade of taupe with bright white trim. Archie did look at Matty sideways when Matty said they needed new tables and chairs, and he did frown a little when Matty suggested all the floors had to be refinished. But Archie never said no to any of Matty’s requests, and Matty knew it was because Archie smiled the most on his way to the bank every morning to make a deposit.

Within the first six months people were making reservations two and three weeks in advance. Instead of Matty acting as the only chef, they hired a chef so Matty could act as head chef, orchestrate the menus, and spend more time out in the main seating area developing relationships with customers. One morning Archie asked Matty if he could sing and Matty shrugged and said, “A little.” The next day Matty arrived and found a group of men setting up a baby grand piano near the bar. Archie hired a pianist who played a combination of clichéd swing for the tourists and solid New Orleans jazz for the locals. And on occasion, when he was in the mood, Matty would sit on the piano with a microphone and sing corny numbers like Hard Hearted Hannah, and Sweet Georgia Brown, which seemed to please customers.
 
2014 Lambdas
 
I have to admit that I’m not always that up to date with awards in anything. (I don’t even watch the Oscars) But when I spotted a few nominations for the 2014 Lambda Awards this year it was nice to see the names of a few authors I read and followed…and even worked with.
 
One nomination in particular really thrilled me because I read and reviewed the book here. (It’s nice to know that as a reviewer I was right on target with this one. I loved it.)
 
That book is Pretty Boy Dead by Jon Michaelsen, an author I’ve known since I first started working with the now defunct e-publisher loveyoudivine.com. Jon is a very articulate author who works hard for perfection. Before the book was released he asked me privately about the cover and I loved it the moment I saw it. You can read my full review at the link above, where there’s also a purchase link. I highly recommend it.
 
The second nomination that really got to me was for an author I don’t know too much about, but have been following on social media for the past couple of months. The author is T.J. Klune, and the book is Into This River I Drown. Although I haven’t read this one, I have read a few other things by Klune and I’ve always found his voice unique. It’s hard to explain. It’s just different and draws you in.
 
I’ve posted about Klune several times here on the blog because he and his fiancé, Eric Arvin, have been going through a serious crisis and that crisis hit home for me in so many ways I get emotional just thinking about it. And when someone has been through that kind of hell it’s nice to see the gods of karma working hard to balance all the bad things out with something nice, too. If you’re not familiar with Klune, here’s a link to multiple posts I’ve done since Christmas.
 
And third, I was thrilled to see that an editor I’ve been working with for the past year or so was also nominated this time. His name is Winston Giesecke, and his book up for an award is Team Players: Gay Erotic Short Stories. I’ve had short stories in several of his books, with German publisher, Bruno Gmunder, and I’ve posted multiple times about that here. I was actually thinking about being a part of Team Players, but couldn’t do it for lack of time and other deadlines I had at the time.
 
In any event, Winston has a knack for anthologies and I’m always thrilled to be a part of any of his books.
 
There’s a full list of all the nominations here. I noticed a lot of new names this time and that’s refreshing to see. Now if we can only get the LLF to take digital submissions next year for those millions of us who have made the complete switch to digital as both readers and authors.
 
Twinks: Whoa Dude!
 
It looks like good old Davey Wavey might have a little strong competition with this one. (When you’re on the wrong side of 30 it’s hard to compete with a twink 🙂 Johnny McGovern has a new web series out that explores hot gay videos and makes you go “Whoa Dude?”
 
“Whoa, Dude!” is slated to be a 16-part web series with a different theme for each installment. In each episode McGovern picks some of the best gay clips from the depths of the Internet and packages them for your enjoyment. Check out the twinks edition above and the military men feature below.
 
You can read more here, and check out the vids. I am getting more and more into the whole web series thing, but it takes a lot to make me say “Whoa Dude!” But these videos are very entertaining even if you don’t say “Whoa Dude!”
 
I even learned something new…Twerking.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Free Giveaway/Excerpt; Gay Kisses for Putin; Advertorials/TV Show Girls

Free Giveaway/Excerpt

There’s a free Valentine’s Day giveaway over at Queertown Abbey today, and an interview with author, TM Smith. I participated and I’m giving away a free copy of my latest tear-jerker in the Glendora Hill series, Cowboy Christmas Miracle. And I’m posting a never before posted free excerpt from that book below in this post.

You can read more here and see a full list of who participated, and to enter the free giveaway.

Gay Kisses for Putin

In a show of support for LGBT people in Russia and around the world, there’s a campaign today with protests, and anti-gay Russian President, Vladimir Putin, is being sent kisses from LGBTI people from all over the world. The point is to show how love…Valentine’s Day…can conquer hatred and fear.

From midday in London near the Russian Embassy, there will be a LGBT carnival with samba music and drag artists.


Some will also be wearing mocking the Russian president by wearing Putin masks.

To promote the event, they sent out an image of Putin kissing Russian Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev.

They (we) want Putin to know that the protests are NOT over because the Olympics are underway and Johnny Weir is still making news (ugh), nor will they ever be over as long as Putin promotes fear and hatred and Weir promotes apathy and idiocy.

You can read more here. The fact that this is such a widespread global effort makes it unique I think. I don’t remember seeing anything like this in the past and I hope it continues.

Advertorials/TV Show Girls

I’m a fan of the TV show, Girls, and I’ve posted about it several times on the blog. I like it for a variety of reasons, but mostly because it talks about books and publishing a lot. Last night I watched a recent episode where they discussed advertorials…and writers balancing a writing career and a full time job…not an easy thing to do.

For those who aren’t familiar with advertorials, here’s a good basic definition.

An advertorial is an advertisement in the form of editorial content. The term “advertorial” is a blend of the words “advertisement” and “editorial.”
 Merriam-Webster dates the origin of the word to 1946.[1]
In printed publications, the advertisement is usually written in the form of an objective article and designed to look like a legitimate and independent news story. In television, the advertisement is similar to a short infomercial presentation of products or services. These can either be in the form of a television commercial or as a segment on a talk show or variety show. In radio, these can take the form of a radio commercial or a discussion between the announcer and representative.

If you do a search about advertorials you’ll find a few interesting discussions, one of which had to do with a Scientology Advertorial in Atlantic Magazine, which many called unethical.

But the point of this post is about writers trying to balance writing careers with full time jobs. First, I don’t think it’s possible for any writer outside of a small handful of highly commercial writers like E.L. James or J.K. Rowling to not have some kind of supplemental income. I think the episode on Girls I watched last night handled the topic well. Not perfect, but well. Hannah, the main character, got a full time job at GQ Magazine writing advertorials. She’s thrilled about the money, the free food, and she even proves she’s going to be good at the job. But she’s also haunted by the fact that she might be giving up a career as a serious writer in order to take this job. The people in her department were all just like her and they all have a few reputable publishing credits. But after they took the job they stopped writing. Life happens. Dreams fizzle out. It’s not all that unusual to anyone over thirty years old.

As I said, they handled this well in the storyline, but didn’t go all the way. It’s a given that all writers need to work to make money. It’s also a given that the odds of making a decent living as a full time writer are slim…even today with so much happening in digital publishing. I faced this about twenty years ago and with me it wasn’t about working full time and writing as much as it was about what I did full time while I wrote part time. In other words, I worked for a short time as an associate editor for Playgirl Magazine, and for a publication called Astrology Your Daily Horoscope. I loved the perks and the money. I even loved working in the print magazine business. However, I just couldn’t figure out a way to focus on editing all day long and then going home and writing my own fiction part time at night and on weekends. So I ultimately decided that if I ever wanted to get published with fiction I would have to make a choice. The choice wasn’t about whether or not I wanted to work full time. I had to do something. My choice was more about what I did full time so I could write part time and not get burned out.

So I quit the editing jobs in publishing, and that wasn’t easy to do. I liked the concept of working in print publishing, but knew deep down that if I continued I would never write anything of my own. I just couldn’t separate myself from the editing to focus enough on my own fiction. So instead of working as an editor, I decided to open my own small business. I opened an art gallery in New Hope and focused on selling a wide variety of art that would attract the high end art buyer to the average home owner looking for a nice generic landscape. This gave me the opportunity to make money and at the same time write fiction part time during my off hours. I kept the gallery open seven days a week for ten years and wrote fiction when there weren’t any clients looking for art. It wasn’t always easy. We never took vacations. But it was worth it because I found that in doing something totally unrelated to books and publishing full time I couldn’t wait to get back to my own fiction and start writing part time. I also enjoyed the gallery. I wasn’t miserable.

This may or may not help anyone else out there facing this dilemma right now. But I do think it’s possible to have a writing career and still work full time doing something else you like to support yourself. You just have to do something full time that’s not going to burn you out mentally when it’s time to write. Some writers work in sales, some are real estate agents, and some even work full time in construction. It can be done. It’s just the way you do it that matters.

Free Excerpt from Cowboy Christmas Miracle

Keith asked him a few more questions about stress in his life, how hard he was working, and what kind of diet he had. He didn’t want to worry him, but he also wanted to be honest with him. “You said earlier today you wanted to make an appointment to see me next week. Was it about these symptoms?”
            Sebastian nodded. “I figured I would get an examination just to be sure there’s nothing seriously wrong. I really do feel fine most of the time.”

            Keith wrote a few more things on the clipboard and then he set it aside on a counter. He looked Sebastian in the eye and said, “I’d like you to see a neurologist. I can refer you to a colleague of mine in Austin. I went to medical school with him, he’s gay, and he’s the best I know around here.”

            Sebastian sat up straighter. “A neurologist? Why can’t you just treat me here? Are you telling me there’s something seriously wrong?”

            Keith had learned how to counsel his patients, not frighten them. “I’m not saying anything definitive. I’m a primary care physician and it’s my job to refer you to a specialist who is qualified in his or her field when I think there’s cause for concern. There’s probably nothing wrong and you’re fine. But after what happened today, and after you mentioned what’s been happening recently, I think you need to see a specialist, have a few tests, and rule out everything to be on the safe side. I can set up the appointment for you next week. I’d like you to see him as soon as possible and his waiting list is three months long.”

            “If you think it’s necessary,” Sebastian said.

            Keith patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Look at it this way. If your son or your husband told you what you just told me, would you want them to ignore the symptoms and wait, or would you want them to get more tests to be on the safe side?”

            Sebastian sent him a look and frowned. “Of course I’d want them to see a specialist. But please don’t say anything right now. I’ll tell Avery later. I just don’t want Kick to know about this. He would really freak out. Since he lost his dad he thinks his main objective in life is to take care of me and keep me from all harm and it’s just not natural. If he found out about this, he wouldn’t leave my side.”

            Keith had learned to remain impersonal in situations like this. He patted Sebastian’s shoulder again and said, “How you deal with telling your family is up to you. But I do think you should talk to your husband about it. I don’t normally tell patients what to do, but in your case I feel as if I should say something.” He’d seen the concern on Avery’s face. He’s seen the love in Avery’s eyes.

            Sebastian jumped off the examining table and said, “I will tell him tonight. I don’t want to go to Austin alone. I’d rather have Avery there with me.”

            “Good,” Keith said. “I think that kind of support from family is necessary. And I also agree with you about Kick. There’s probably nothing to worry about, so why freak the poor guy out.”

            Sebastian glanced down at his torn shirt and said, “I wish I hadn’t worn this shirt today. It’s ruined.”

            Keith laughed and said, “At least you’re okay.” Then he put his arm around him and said, “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I’m sure they’re all pacing the floors out there. And if you need anything let me know. You know where to find me.”

            As they crossed through the doorway, Sebastian said, “Thanks, Keith. I really appreciate you coming here today on such short notice, and I appreciate you getting me the appointment in Austin.”

            Keith patted his back and said, “That’s my job, landlord. And this was actually my first time here and I think I’m going to like it a lot. It’s the first time I’ve had such a good feeling in a long time.”

            “That’s so interesting,” Sebastian said. “I felt the same way when we first moved to Glendora Hill. Remind me to tell you the story someday. It’s very interesting, about how my uncle left me the building and a few little secrets.”

            By the time they reached the middle of the hallway, Kick noticed them and he started running to his dad. Keith stepped back and let Kick put his arm around Sebastian, and then Avery walked over and he started asking questions. When Keith assured Avery that Sebastian hadn’t hurt himself in the fall, Avery thanked him and he put his arm around Sebastian. As they headed outside, where the crowd was still waiting to hear what had happened, Sebastian glanced back and Keith and winked.

            Keith lifted his hand and made a telephone gesture, then he mouthed the words, “I’ll call you next week.”

            Although Avery had cleared all the people from the waiting room, there was still one person left behind. As Avery, Sebastian, and Kick headed out, Ben Sanders appeared in the hallway with his hands in his pockets and a great big smile.

            “You’re still here?” Keith said. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him. “You’ve been waiting for me all this time.”

            Ben shrugged and said, “I thought we were going to the Glendora Hill Diner tonight for dinner. It’s a little early, but I’m starved.”

            It was early for dinner, at least for Sebastian. He glanced at his watch and saw it was a little after six o’clock. In Chicago he’d never gone out to dinner a minute before eight pm. And if he did he never would have admitted that aloud to any of his gay friends. The gay men in his circles had dinner after eight, brunch after one on Sunday, and never showed up at a nightclub before midnight. But he was hungry, too, and he didn’t feel like waiting around until eight o’clock to eat. Ben looked so cute standing there rocking back and forth in his cowboy boots, he didn’t want to let him down.

            “Just let me go back and get my chart,” he said. He wasn’t even certain about who had opened the clinic or whether he was responsible for closing it up now. He figured the person he’d noticed at the front desk in the waiting room would know. “I’ll be right back.”

            “I’ll be here,” Ben said. “I can’t go anywhere anyway. You’re my ride. I left my car at the ranch.”

            There had been so much happening Keith hadn’t thought about how Ben would get home. He didn’t mind driving him back to the ranch after dinner. Only he hoped he wouldn’t run into Judd again. So far he’d been in Glendora Hill for less than twenty-four hours and he’d had the best sex of his life with Judd and the most embarrassing emotional experiences. The last thing he wanted to do at that point was go for round three.


Lesbian Rapist; FREE Gay Excerpt: Second Chance

Lesbian Rapist

This is an interesting case because it almost slipped through the cracks, at the expense of a victim who was left psychologically damaged for life. In 2010 a lesbian, Millicent Gaika, was raped because she was a lesbian. The rapist, Andile Ngcoza, claimed he raped her to “show her she was a woman.” He not only raped her, but beat, strangled and tortured her for five hours. He was convicted in 2011 but failed to show up in court for sentencing and then vanished for two years. Evidently, they caught him and he was recently sentenced to 22 years in prison.

In final court proceedings this week, prosecutors at Wynberg Magistrate’s Court not only pointed out Ngcoza had three previous sexual attack convictions including sodomy and double rape, but also presented a psychological evaluation on Gaika.

The report revealed the attack left Gaika with nightmares and alcohol abuse issues. She also reportedly nearly killed herself in 2012.

It’s a good thing I’m not a judge. He’d be in prison for the rest of his life.

You can read the entire story in detail here.

FREE Gay Excerpt: Second Chance

Here’s a free excerpt from my newest indie release, Second Chance, which will be an ongoing series for a while. The theme behind the series deals with gay men getting second chances in life…but only if they want them. It’s also about choices, and how we often wonder about them sometimes…and wonder how things might have turned out if we’d made other choices.

Here’s the blurb for the first book, a 21,000 word novella that will be priced at .99. The book will be up for sale this weekend, and I’ll post links to where it’s being sold later today.

In this first novella of the Second Chance series, an older gay man who has lived a closeted life for ninety-two years is presented with choices one last time. Who hasn’t wondered how things might have turned out if only they’d made one or two different choices in their lives? Who hasn’t contemplated what it would be like for the chance to do things all over again a different way, if only that were possible?

When ninety-two year old Andy Walker shuffles out to his beloved vegetable garden one morning in June, he gets the surprise of his life. He winds up in the last place he could ever imagine, with the man of his dreams telling him there’s still time for a second chance and there’s still time for him to choose a different path than the one he’s already followed…but only if he’s willing to take the risk and revisit one of the most pivotal and painful moments of his life. There are no guarantees or promises of happily-ever-after, and no one can make Andy’s choices for him. And if he agrees to return to the year 1950 when he was still young and strong and handsome, only he will know whether or not it’s possible to alter the course of his entire life thanks to one unusual encounter with a stranger named Chip.

Excerpt:

Even though Andy Walker would be turning ninety-three years old in a couple of weeks he wasn’t the kind of old man who could sit in a chair and stare out a window all day. In spite of numerous requests to move into one of those assisted living facilities from his only living relative, a seventy year old niece who lived in Chicago and visited two or three times a year, Andy planned to die at the ranch in Montana where he’d lived most of his life.

He still had decent eyesight, his hearing wasn’t that bad on a good day, and he only needed a cane on days when his hip really bothered him. He had a cleaning woman twice a week who did laundry, prepared meals, and went over the entire house. And a caretaker who mowed, weeded, white-washed, and handled what Andy didn’t feel safe doing anymore. He even drove into town two or three times a week in the same Jeep Cherokee he’d had for over twenty-five years.

Andy wasn’t a profound or deeply religious man. The one thing he’d noticed as he’d passed through life was the way he kept losing things that seemed so insignificant when he’d been younger, but continued to grow more important as he’d aged. He’d started out noticing he’d lost a cheap tie clip, or a pair of cuff links, or a page of sheet music he’d once enjoyed playing. Then one day he noticed he was losing his hair at the temples. By the time he noticed he’d lost the tight skin tone on his thighs and everything sagged and creased, he decided to hold on to the things over which he had control for as long as possible.

One of those things was his small vegetable garden next to the barn where Andy and his late wife had once boarded and trained horses. When Andy and Sarah June Walker had purchased the working ranch in western Montana many years earlier thanks to a cash wedding gift from his in-laws, Andy had always found time to plant a small vegetable garden in a long narrow section near the barn he’d surrounded with a white picket fence and chicken wire. The garden became his sanity sometimes. He would go there to forget about all he’d missed in life and all he’d sacrificed to do the right thing. In his case, doing the right thing had been marrying a nice girl he’d gotten into trouble one night when he’d been too drunk to remember what he’d been doing. When the baby that had changed the entire course of his life was delivered still born he was already married and there wasn’t much to do but settle into the life he’d chosen.

It wasn’t a bad life, not by any means. Although Sarah June never wanted another child, she made a good home, handled a good deal of work at the ranch that would have made most women scowl, and she had a sharp sense of humor that could always make Andy smile. He got her through breast cancer when she was in her forties; she got him through the burst appendix that almost took him at fifty-two years old. They had friends from Sarah June’s church with whom they went out to dinner, they had an annual Christmas party each year the first weekend in December, and they took a trip to Florida every winter when things were slow at the ranch.

When Sarah June first suggested they get twin beds because she claimed Andy tossed and turned too much in the middle of the night, Andy just shrugged and agreed. They’d been married fifteen years by then. He’d wanted to suggest it first but didn’t know how she’d react. A few years after that, Sarah June claimed it would be best for them to have separate bedrooms altogether because his snoring kept her up late at night. Andy didn’t mind this either. He moved into the guest room overlooking the barn that same night and never left.

It would have been a nice, easy life had it not been for the daydreams and the thoughts he often had whenever he saw one of the cowboys on the ranch wearing a tight pair of jeans move his legs a certain way. These thoughts had always been there, unnatural and cutting to the deepest part of his soul. And he’d always forced them out of his mind because he’d always been told they were wrong. And in the same respect, he’d always hired the best looking, most rugged, handsome young men to work at the ranch. Though he never actually admitted any of this aloud to anyone, he couldn’t help those strong feelings that stirred deeply in his body as he watched the rough young men lope to and from the barn with their scuffed up cowboy boots. In the summer he had to wear dark glasses a good deal of the time because the young men always removed their shirts on the hottest days, which could be both distracting and dangerous if he was working with machinery.

So Andy found two releases that kept him from acting on these strong urges: one release of a more carnal nature made him feel guilty when he was finished, the second made him feel as if he’d accomplished something worthwhile and created something no one else could. The second release was the garden, where he could turn nothing into something. It changed all the time; each year he planted a different variety of vegetables. And when he was down on his hands and knees digging in the dirt he found it was the only place he could forget all about his attraction toward other men and lose himself in something that was simple and mindless…and yet at the same time as natural as his attraction toward other men.

This particular year, he’d only planted a few tomatoes and peppers. There was only so much a ninety-two year old man could do, even if he was still as thin as he’d been when he was twenty-five. There was only so much he could eat. As it was he knew he’d wind up giving away most of the tomatoes and peppers at the end of the summer to his hired help and friends in town. But he didn’t mind because he didn’t garden to eat the vegetables. He gardened to grow and nurture and fill a void.

On a Wednesday morning in early June that year, only weeks before his ninety-third birthday, he set his coffee mug in the kitchen sink and headed out to the garden to see if the rains from the night before had done any damage. No one came to the house on Wednesdays. The cleaning woman worked at another house on Wednesdays and the caretaker came on Thursdays to mow and trim. He didn’t mind being alone, because no one would be around to remind him to take the damn cane that always seemed to slow him down more than help him move faster. All the people around him seemed to be fixated with him using the cane. Even the niece in Chicago ended her weekly Sunday afternoon phone call with, “And don’t forget to use that cane, Uncle.”

As he headed out the back door that Wednesday morning, he glanced at the cane leaning against the old Formica countertop that had been there since the 1940’s and flipped his middle finger. Then he lifted his head, squared his back, and headed down to the barn on his own two feet, the way he’d been walking around all his life. He’d learned that if he concentrated on his footing and looked down while he walked he didn’t stagger and sway as much.

At least he still had his mind after all these years. And he was only going down to the barn to make sure the slope that had been forming from weeks of heavy rain hadn’t washed out his freshly planted tomatoes and peppers. He could have waited for the caretaker to do it, but Andy had always found this particular caretaker to be clumsy and reckless and Andy didn’t want this guy’s big fat fingers bending or snapping the new plants.

As he rounded the corner of the huge barn that had once held more than forty horses, he grabbed the gate and held it tightly as he opened it so he wouldn’t slip in the mud. He wasn’t worried about falling and breaking a hip as much as he was worried about falling and breaking a hip and having to listen to everyone tell him it wouldn’t have happened if he’d had his cane. So he wound up taking extra precautions that morning.

By the time he reached the small garden with the white picket fence, he walked as if he were doing a slow two-step dance. At first, everything looked okay. Then he glanced to the back end of the small garden and noticed the slope had grown deeper and filled with water to the point where most of the plants on that end wouldn’t survive if he didn’t do something fast. He turned and made his way back to the barn taking quick short steps through the slippery mud. In the barn, he found a shovel and the cut-off bottom half of an old Clorox bottle he’d once used to spread rock salt in the wintertime.

The shovel helped him walk back to the garden without making him feel as if he’d been reduced to using a cane, and the Clorox bottle would help him scoop out the excess water and give the plants time to dry out. But when he rested the shovel against the white picket fence and leaned forward with the Clorox bottle in his right hand, he lost his balance, fell face forward into the trench filled with water, and then everything around him went blank.

*****

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in the middle of a large mirrored room, with silvery white floors, an open ceiling exposing the brightest blue sky he’d ever seen, and a few puffy clouds that reminded him of snow drifts. When he glanced to his right at one of mirrored walls and realized he was naked, he pressed his palm to his throat and blinked. He wasn’t a naked old man either. He saw the nude image of what he had once looked like as a young man in his early thirties. For a moment, he just stood there and stared at his thick dark hair, his lean chest and stomach muscles, and the firm skin tone on his legs.

But when he glanced straight ahead and realized he wasn’t alone, he quickly covered his private parts and flung another naked young man a terrified glance. The other naked young man sat shamelessly atop a long white table with ornately carved cabriolet legs and ball and clawed feet swinging his legs back and forth. His expression suggested playful arrogance, as if he were ready to take on a dare. He had dark unruly hair and rough stubble. His features were a combination of rough and tender, with a strong chin and soft eyes. The lines and details on the white table were as delicate and subtle as the lines that followed the naked young man’s muscles and curves. Although Andy knew he had never met this young man, he seemed oddly familiar and couldn’t quite place him. He reminded Andy of someone he’d known many years earlier, but not exactly.


The young man sent Andy a knowing smile and adjusted his position on the desk. As he spread his legs wider, he said, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We don’t wear clothes here. Everyone gets used to it in time.” He had a smooth even voice, the voice of a well-trained actor.

“Well I do wear clothes,” Andy said. “Can I get a robe or something?”

“It’s all relative, man,” said the naked man. “You’ll get used to it.”

Andy kept his palms over his private parts and glanced up and down at the young naked man’s strong fuzzy legs. “Who are you and what am I doing here?”

The young man smiled again and reached back with both arms to rest the weight of his upper body on his palms. He seemed as if he wanted to show off his private parts. “Welcome to The Department of Second Chances. You can call me Rory, Andy, and I’ll be your guide for as long as you’re here.”

“My guide?”

“That’s right, Andy. I’m your guide.”

Andy felt a sting in his chest. Oh, he’d always hoped he wouldn’t lose his mind in his old age. And now his worst fear had come true. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you, Andy,” Rory said. He seemed cocky now, with his head tilted sideways and one eyebrow higher than the other as if he were about to dare Andy to jump from a bridge.

“Wait a minute,” Andy said. “I know you. You’re that actor who once played James Dean, the one who was in the movie I just saw the other night on TV.” He’d always been bad with names of celebrities, politicians, and film titles. Andy had seen several of this actor’s films and he’d found him interesting in that scruffy, slightly messy way that had always attracted him the most. Although the actor was straight, he often played gay roles.

Rory laughed and shook his head. “Not really. I only look like him right now. We try to accommodate new arrivals by giving them guides that resemble people they are either attracted to or feel the most comfortable with. In your case, we decided this would be the best look since you’ve been so attracted to the young actor. We also know this actor reminds you of someone from your past.” He winked this time, as if he knew all of Andy’s deepest secrets.

Andy felt a pull in his stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. No one had ever confronted him about his deepest desires for men this way and he didn’t know how to react. There was a man from Andy’s past and the young actor did remind Andy of him, but Andy had never shared this information with anyone. “I only like the guy’s movies, is all. He’s very talented. I’m not attracted to other men.”

 “Awe c’mon, Andy,” Rory said, with the slick voice of a used car salesman. “There’s no need to play games with me, buddy. We already know everything there is to know about you. We’ve been keeping records from the day you were born until the day you died.”

“I Died?”

Russian Cops Gay Porn; FREE Give-Away FREE Excerpt

Russian Cops; Gay Porn

Evidently, the treatment of gays gets even worse in Russia than what we read about in mainstream headlines. According to this article in Gay Star News, Russian cops were recently fired for filming gay prison porn scenes and what sounds like the alleged exploitation of prisoners and gay men. According to another article, two films were made, on cell phones, and uploaded online. One involved a drunken prisoner, the other a gay rape scene.

On both occasions, the officers were stood filming the scenes on their phones.

You can read more here.

The officers were fired last year, and charged with negligence and illegal production of pornographic materials, punishable with up to two years in prison.

However, they eventually got away with fines of between 25,000 rubles and 45,000 rubles ($790 and $1,420), the report said.

And more here.

It’s hard to comment on this because there are so many different angles. But I do think it’s interesting that there’s a market for this kind of gay exploitation in Russia and I can’t help wondering if that has something to do with the fact that the Russian government treats gays so poorly. In other words, the more taboo something is the more in demand it usually becomes. Frankly, I’d like to know more of the back story. But I doubt we’ll get anything in detail on this topic from Russia.

FREE Give-Away FREE Excerpt

I’ll be posting about a free give-away I’m doing this weekend with a romance marketing company, Personalized Marketing. It’s actually a blog hop called Fall Into Romance, but I hate to call these things hops because they tend to freak readers out. It’s really just a way for readers to get a chance to win a few prizes. All you have to do is check for my post later this evening and follow a few simple directions. There’s also going to be an early bird contest today to win something for free. Read more to find out how to win a free e-book today.

From my inbox:

Early Bird Prize Contest…

Personalized Marketing is giving one lucky person who comments today only a choice of a Free eBook from one of the Guest List below. To be entered all you have to do is Comment today Oct 25th with the name of your Choice of Author and the Title you love the most!

The winner of the Early Bird will be announced the last day of the Blog Hop.. Good Luck and Have Fun!

As far as I know, and I didn’t know about this early bird contest until a minute ago, you can click this link, leave a comment, and choose an author of your choice for a chance to win a free e-book. It’s really a bonus prize for readers and no one knew about it until just this morning.

I’ll keep updating, and look for my post later this evening about the main contest where I’ll be giving away two free e-books from the Bad Boy Billionaire series. (Those books are also subject to change if the winner has already read them…it happens and I’m flexible about those things 🙂

Free Excerpt: Glendora Hill’s Sheriff and the Outlaw

This is from the first book in the new western romance series I’m doing for ravenous romance that’s going to be set in the fictional Texas Hill Country town of Glendora Hill. The series, unlike any other I’ve done in the past, will have books that focus on the little town of Glendora Hill, and each book will be told from a different POV by one of the characters who live in Glendora Hill. This first book, The Sheriff and the Outlaw, is coming from Sebastian Holt’s POV. He’s a recently widowed young gay man, with a teenage son, very little money, and he’s trying to start a new life in Glendora Hill on a limited budget. Many characters will be reappearing in each book. This excerpt, unlike most I post here on the blog, has been through one round of edits, but it’s still in revision.

 Chapter Seven

On the Friday of Labor Day weekend, a dozen more round boxwoods arrived at nine in the morning from a local nursery. Sebastian was walking Kick to the front door at the time, and when he saw the nursery truck pull up to the curb he groaned, put his arm around Kick, and said, “I’m not looking forward to doing that today in this heat.” He also wasn’t looking forward to paying for the boxwoods either. His funds were running low and he knew he shouldn’t have ordered more shrubs until the saddle shop was open and money was coming in. But everything in Glendora Hill was so perfect and manicured he didn’t want his place to look dowdy. He’d even repainted the white porch swing one more time that week so it would be brighter and shinier than the others in town.

          “If you want to wait, Dad, I can do it when I get home from work tonight,” Kick said. This was the last weekend before school started that Kick would be working full time at the hardware store. After that, he would work part time, on weekends and a few days after school, which would mean his paycheck would be less. He’d been saving his paycheck at the local bank all summer, in a savings account Sebastian had encouraged him to start as a college fund. One of the things Dan and Sebastian had discussed before Dan’s death was that they both wanted Kick to go to college and make something of his life. Sebastian was determined to steer Kick in that direction no matter what it took.

          “I thought you were going to the movies again tonight with your friends,” Sebastian said, watching the older man remove the most perfect boxwoods he’d seen yet. At least he was getting his money’s worth. They were identical to the shrubs he’d already planted along the front porch.  

          “I don’t have to go,” Kick said. “I can hang around here with you tonight and plant these. I don’t mind.”

          Sebastian pulled Kick closer and said, “I want you to go out and have fun tonight. This is the last weekend before school starts. Trust me, you won’t be having that much fun a week from now. Besides, I don’t have that much to do anyway. I just dread digging holes in this heat.” There had been a heat wave passing through all week. It was supposed to break that night, and Sebastian was hoping the weather reports were accurate. The grand opening for the saddle shop was tomorrow and although the shop was air conditioned, he’d planned several of the events outside in the driveway under a huge white tent he’d rented.

          “You sure?” Kick said.

          Sebastian gave him a push forward and smiled. “Get moving or you’ll be late. I’ll see you later this evening.”

          Kick hugged him fast and started down the sidewalk. As he crossed the street, he sent Sebastian a glance and waved.

          “Have a good day,” Sebastian shouted, and then he went down to meet the guy from the nursery.

          After he paid the man, he went around back to get the wheel barrow and shovel from the garage. There was a small pile of mulch next to the side door of the garage that had been left over from the previous plantings out front. He was glad he’d ordered a few extra yards of mulch just in case. The pile next to the door looked to be just the right amount needed to finish the boxwoods that would flank both sides of the front walkway.

          This time he decided to wear gloves instead of using his bare hands. The last time he’d planted something he hadn’t worn them and the blisters on his palms lasted for over a week. He knew he’d seen a few old pairs of gardening gloves in the garage somewhere when he’d been placing his uncle’s personal belongings in storage, only he didn’t remember exactly where he’d seen them.

          He rummaged around the dusty old garage, pushing spider webs away, making mental notes about how this mess of a garage would be the next project he would tackle.  But when he shoved a few old terra cotta pots on a shelf to one side, he spotted a black shoebox with a white label taped to the side that read, “Sebastian.” The gardening gloves were on top of the old shoebox and he was surprised he hadn’t noticed the box earlier. He must have been too busy cleaning up to see it. So much of that summer had become a blur because he’d been so eager to get everything in order.

          He pulled the shoebox and the gloves off the shelf and sat down on a wooden stool next to a stack of boxes that contained mostly old clothing that had belonged to his uncle. He’d planned to donate them to the Methodist church in town, but not until he went through all the pockets. Then he removed the lid from the box and gaped as he looked inside. It seemed to be filled with old photos of him that he never even knew he’d posed for. They were photos of him from the time he started kindergarten until the day he graduated from high school. All of them had something written on the back that stated where they had been taken, the date they had been taken, and Sebastian’s age at the time they’d been taken. As Sebastian glanced from photo to photo, as if viewing a consolidated version of his childhood, he remained gutted and slack-jawed.

          Sebastian knew his parents hadn’t taken these photos and sent them to his uncle. First, they didn’t speak to the uncle, and second, his parents never took more than one or two photos of him in his life. They’d always been the practical types: they took photos at major life events like graduations and weddings, and not even then most of the time. But never photos of him playing in swings or running onto the baseball field when he’d been in Little League.

          At the very bottom of the box, Sebastian gasped and shook his head. The photos of him continued through his adult years. There were photos of him with Dan and Kick playing catch outside their trailer in Houston. There were photos of him with Dan and Kick putting up a trellis in a small section of property behind the trailer that caused Sebastian’s eyes to sting. The memory of that afternoon overwhelmed him to the point where he had to stop and take a deep breath. Most of the photos of his life with Dan were digital, and the few he did have he wasn’t in because he’d been taking the photos of Dan and Kick.

          When he finally viewed the last photo in the box, he returned it to the box, closed the lid, and set it on a large cardboard box so he would remember to bring it into the house when he was finished planting the shrubs. But he sat there for a few minutes trying to figure out why his uncle had taken those photos, and why he’d kept them hidden in a shoebox all these years.

          While he was digging and planting the shrubs, he realized inheriting the property in Glendora Hill hadn’t been an accident. If his uncle had been watching him from a distance all those years, he’d known what he was doing when he left everything in his estate to Sebastian. Although he dreaded the thought of doing this, he would have to phone his parents at the ranch to see if they knew anything. He figured they would be the only people who might have a clue.

          But he had too many other things to deal with that Friday, and digging shrubs was more important than digging up the past. By the time he finished spreading a final layer of mulch around the last boxwood with a rusted old pitchfork, he heard a car pull up to the curb and a man said, “Looking good.”

          He turned and smiled before he even knew who it was. When he saw the sheriff smiling back at him, he said, “I do my best, sheriff.” He was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and running shoes because of the heat. He had a feeling the sheriff was looking at everything but the shrubs he’d just planted.

          “Not bad for an outlaw,” the sheriff said. “And you can call me Avery. Sheriff makes me sound so much older and meaner.”

          Sebastian doubted the man had a mean cell in his entire body. He stuck the pitchfork in the grass and said, “And you can call me Sebastian instead of outlaw. That makes me sound shady and sinister.”

          Avery smiled and shook his head. “I have a feeling you can be sinister when you want to be.”

          Sebastian could tell by his tone he was joking. “I have my moments. Will I see you tomorrow at the grand opening? It wouldn’t be the same without the local sheriff here.”

          Avery put the car in gear and said, “Oh, you can count on it.” Then he tipped his cowboy hat, hit the gas, and made a U-turn toward the other end of town.