Category: Free gay excerpt

FREE Gay Excerpt, Filbert’s Cheese: A Gay Amish Love Story; Least and Most Gay Friendly Countries; Why Non-Binary Jack Monroe Thinks Twitter Is Abusive

Least and Most Gay Friendly Countries

For those of you who travel a great deal, Spartacus World recently released a new travel index for gay people. I left a few comments below. 

This year, Spartacus assessed 197 different countries and territories.
Canada and Sweden tied for first with 10 points each. They earned no negative marks and each received full marks for the new trans category.

Here’s more. Chechnya, of course, ranked the lowest. 

Apparently, the US dropped a few points. However, I can tell you first hand from my own personal experience that I’ve never found any issues of homophobia anywhere in the US when I’ve traveled. And I do at least four cross country road trips a year from Philadelphia, PA to Palm Springs, CA. So I don’t know how accurate this index is. In fact, I meet tons of other gay people on the road in hotels and restaurants in almost every state I pass through in the US…all gay friendly, never one issue. And I have no reason to lie. 

Why Non-Binary Jack Monroe Thinks Twitter Is Abusive

I’ve been on Twitter for ten years and it’s never been known as a safe space. Twitter is rough sometimes, and other times it can be downright vicious. Sometimes it’s sarcastic and funny. Other times it’s confusing. There are fakes, bots, and all kinds of creeps. You have to have a sense of humor and be willing to laugh at yourself on Twitter. And never, ever engage or be afraid to block. I remember one year a nasty, horrible romance book blogger had a roast on Twitter every Friday night, and she and her mean girl friends laughed at erotic romance novels, which made some authors totally freak out. I think that’s the meanest thing I’ve seen on Twitter because it caused so many authors emotional distress. And yet, in spite of all this, I actually like Twitter, and I’ve met some great people there. But it’s not for everyone, and most of all there’s no law that says anyone has to use Twitter.

With that said, Jack Monroe thinks Twitter is abusive and here’s why they are quitting. Notice how I make a point to use a gender neutral pronoun. I do that because I respect it, but I don’t think half the people I know on Twitter would even know what that means. 

‘I get viciously pilloried on a daily basis,’ they wrote.
‘[I’m] inundated with people who scream in their dozens about free speech while freely speaking at me that I am an atrocious person for daring to want to push outside of my “little woman” box.’

Here’s the rest.  I think it’s interesting and from the heart. They seem totally honest and complete.

FREE Gay Excerpt… Filbert’s Cheese: A Gay Amish Love Story 

I’ve always wanted to write a gay Amish love story, so I finally did it. In the past, I wrote an erotic Amish romance once in the Virgin Billionaire series, but this book is totally different from that. It’s more detailed, and it’s pg rated. One of the main characters is trying to learn the meaning of discretion, and the other is trying to figure out how he can come to terms with being gay and Amish. It’s not easy for either of them, especially when they clash. They come from two completely different worlds.

Keep in mind this is the raw, unedited version. 

When he reached the farm market, he found Filbert out front talking to his best friend, a hot straight guy named Niles. This Niles was definitely a guy Noah could have had a lot of fun with. Even though Niles wasn’t Amish, he was a typical heteronormative small town guy in his twenties living and working in a flyover state. From what Noah could figure out, Niles came from a fairly well off family in Charmingville, but he was still floundering around without any set goals in life. Niles had flair and sophistication, and he drove a nice little Fiat spider. Noah was glad he was around because if it hadn’t been for Niles, Noah would have been surrounded by nothing but people wearing Amish outfits, speaking with their strong Amish accents. There were tourists, of course, but he couldn’t count them.
As Noah walked up to them, he noticed Filbert was organizing a large display of brilliant pink Martha Washington geraniums that had just arrived the day before. There were other colors, too, that ranged from red to purple. In fact, the entire front of the farm market was one long expansive row of distressed wooden shelves filled with summer annuals that had recently arrived. In all the bright warm sunshine it reminded Noah of a magazine cover. Part of his job was watering all the flowers daily, which oddly enough he didn’t mind in the least.
He walked up to Niles and Filbert and said, “They’re nice. I love the colors. I feel like I’m on a movie set with all these flowers.”
Filbert said, “It’s that time of year again. We’re the largest seller of summer annuals in this part of the state.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Noah said. Filbert always seemed to feel the need to impress him. If he’d said the sky was blue that day, Filbert probably would have said they paid extra to get a bluer sky in Charmingville.
Niles looked nice that morning, in his skinny jeans, his white V-neck T-shirt, and sneakers. He reminded Noah of those sexy guys he saw all over New York with skate boards. He had the look of a hipster, but he didn’t go off the deep end with a weird hair style or tattoos.
“Good morning, Niles,” Noah said. “I like your jeans.” He looked down at the bulge in Nile’s pants and ran his tongue across his bottom lip in a ridiculous way.
“Hey, man,” Niles said. “Thanks. Got them at Wal-Mart.”
“I have to check that out,” Noah said. “I’ve never actually been there.”
Niles laughed. “You’ve never been to Wal-Mart?”
Noah thought he noticed Filbert roll his eyes, but he ignored him and said, “I never had the opportunity to go to one in New York. Maybe you could take me sometime while I’m here this summer.” He reached out and ran his fingers down the front of Niles’s T-shirt. “I like your shirt, too.”
Niles didn’t seem annoyed or offended by the way Noah had touched him, but the look on Filbert’s face was priceless. He even bit his bottom lip, so Noah touched Niles’s arm on purpose and said, “You’ve got such large muscles. Do you work out a lot?”
Niles shrugged. Like most straight guys he tended to be clueless about most things. He didn’t seem to even realize that Noah was trying to get into his pants. If he did, he wasn’t going to admit it. “I just work out a few times a week with weights in my basement, is all. I do my best.”
“Well, it’s paying off,” Noah said. He turned to Filbert. “Isn’t it, Filbert? Doesn’t he have a great body?”
Filbert forced another smile and said, “Yes. Please keep working out, Niles, with those great big muscles.”
Niles either didn’t catch the sarcasm, or he didn’t want to let anyone know he did. Noah caught it and he wasn’t going to let Filbert get away with anything like that. “There’s no need to get upset, Filbert. Don’t be so grumpy. You have nice little muscles, too. Where did you get your pants? Do they sell those special Amish pants in the local Wal-Mart, too?”
Filbert sent him a look and replied with more sarcasm. “I made them myself, Noah, by hand with a needle and thread. I even spun the cotton and dyed the fabric, because that’s what we Amish do.” Then he turned and said, “I have to go back now and get my cheese started for the week. I don’t want to run low on inventory this time of year.”
“Yes. Go make your lovely cheese, Filbert,” Noah said. He found a certain amount of delight in paying Filbert passive aggressive compliments.
Filbert’s face turned red. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Noah. Make cheese.”
It was a Saturday, which meant it would be a busy day at the farm market that time of year. The tourists and day-trippers were already starting to pull up and Noah hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet. As Filbert turned to leave, Noah glanced at a sign above the geraniums, pointed, and asked Niles, “What’s that about?”
Niles looked at a sign that was advertising a cheese making contest. “Every year there’s an event in town where several people compete to see who makes the best cheese. It’s held at the end of the summer on the town square. It’s a big event around here for Labor Day.”
Niles nodded. “Yes. They’ve been doing it for years. Cheese is very big in Charmingville.”
Noah laughed. “Don’t tell me. And Filbert wins the big cheese prize every year, because his cheese is perfect.”
Niles shook his head. “Not at all. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Filbert makes the best cheese in this part of the state and everyone knows it. People come to this market just for his cheese. But he never enters the contest.”
“Why not?”
“He won’t compete,” Niles said. “It’s an Amish thing. To focus on competition goes against the beliefs or something.”
“Well that seems a little unfair,” Noah said. “I mean, if he makes the best cheese he should enter. I’ll never understand how these things work in Amish culture. Just when I think I have something figured out, I’m wrong.” He also found it ironic that even though Filbert wouldn’t compete in the contest, he was always competing with Noah.
Niles shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I grew up in this area and I still don’t totally get it. I just try to respect everyone. There’s also a wet bottom shoo-fly pie contest every year, too. And Filbert just happens to make the best wet bottom shoo-fly pie. But he won’t enter that contest either. It’s not that he won’t compete at all. It’s that he doesn’t want to make the focus all about competition. With Filbert, he would be more likely to help someone out that he’s competing against. It’s something to do with sense of community as being more important than competition. Besides, he already knows he makes the best cheese.”
“What’s a wet bottom shoo-fly pie?” He almost giggled. It sounded a little dirty.
“It’s just shoo-fly pie with a soggy bottom,” Niles said. “You’ve never heard of that?”
“No. But I’ve been called a soggy bottom on occasion.” He didn’t think Niles would understand what that meant because most straight people don’t understand gay camp, but he said it anyway because it was too good to resist.
He was mistaken. Niles started laughing, and said, “I’ve heard that about you. It’s all over town.” Then he stopped laughing and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude.”
Kendle’s Fire
A PG Rated Gay Romance

Altered Parts: Limited Edition

In Their Prime by Ryan Field

Free Gay Excerpt: "Uncertainty" by Ryan Field

Free Gay Excerpt: “Uncertainty” by Ryan Field

Here’s a free excerpt from my upcoming release titled, “Uncertainty.” I actually do these things from time to time because it helps me with the very final editing. I have the book edited first, and then I do all the final revises alone. That’s the hardest part of indie publishing for me, and why I prefer working with publishers. I need to know that the final edits were done by me. And it never seems like enough. I don’t even have a cover yet for this one, but posting it here on the blog actually helps me see it differently.

This is a raw excerpt, so please keep that in mind.

Here’s the blurb.

When Gus Baldwin realizes that his gay dad is serious about marrying a much older man for safety and security instead of love, he concocts a plot that he hopes will change his dad’s mind. Even though his other dad has been dead for over a year, Gus wants his surviving dad to find love and happiness someday with a new husband. 

However, their financial situation is about as bad as it gets and they’re on the brink of losing their grand old Victorian home, and everything about their perfect lives is threatened. So Gus winds up putting his own marriage on hold with the guy he’s been in love with since high school. It’s so bad he’s even thinking of quitting college to help support his dad and his younger brother just so his dad won’t have to marry the older man. 

After Gus convinces his dad to take a road trip in their vintage 1950s station wagon to their getaway cabin in the mountains, along with his younger brother, his future husband, and their nineteen year old dog named Special, their lives change in ways none of them ever anticipated. And even though the future is still uncertain in some respects, they discover a few things about themselves on this trip they never could have predicted. 

Here’s the Excerpt:

Every year in June, Palmer Hill High School had an awards ceremony that focused on the achievements of students, faculty, staff, and parents. It was an end of the school year tradition held on the last day of school that had been going on since 1958. Almost everyone in the little town of Palmer Hill, Pennsylvania attended.
Even though the awards were the main focus, the program included local talent performing amateur acts that could range from Miss Ina Jennings, the school librarian, singing opera, to Mrs. Betsy Dare, the school nurse, doing stand-up comedy. Once in a while Ms. Sister Herbert…her legal first name was actually Sister…the biology teacher, gave a poetry reading. Last year one of the history teachers, Ms. LaTonda Shaqueille, read an excerpt from her recently self-published novel about the Alamo, which put a few people to sleep and tempted others in the back row to Tweet and Instagram.
In between the awards and entertainment, light refreshments were served in the main hall. Big Martha Jasper brought her homemade lemon squares, Elise Freemont came with huge trays of brownies, and Miss Johnson, the transgender gym teacher, brought gluten-free kale cookies that most people avoided. There was so much food baked by the hands of good natured Christian women everyone wound up taking something home at the end of the night.
There were also certain parts of the evening that everyone anticipated with smiles and whispers. Who would win Parent of the Year was one of them. It used to be called the Mom of the Yearaward, however, the award committee had changed that a few years earlier due to the fact that so many stay-at-home dads were now so involved with school projects. Even though Palmer Hill was only a small town in Pennsylvania, they prided themselves on being progressive in all things social and political. In fact, the school board actually gave Principal Mary Lucille a raise in pay after she came out of the closet and announced she was marrying a former nun named Joan Berkley, the town’s librarian, in the Gazebo at the town square. For one solid month, almost everyone in town had a rainbow flag hanging on their front porch in a show of support.
Another popular feature of the evening that kept everyone on the edge was a former Palmer Hill High School student and star football player, Gus Baldwin. Although Gus now attended the local community college where he majored in music, he still sang his version of Hallelujah at the end of the evening, right after they announced the Parent of the Year award. If Gus had had any say in the matter, he would have stopped performing after he graduated. However, his gay dad, Henry Baldwin, was the music teacher at Palmer Hill High School, and head of the Palmer Hill Glee Club, and he begged Gus to continue doing it every year. And when Gus’s other dad died suddenly in an automobile accident a year earlier, Gus couldn’t refuse.
The fact that Gus looked like Nick Jonas and sounded like Harry Connick Jr. drove most of the women to pull tissues out of their purses while he sang. The men tapped their feet and gazed at him. Little children would stop fidgeting and stare at the stage the moment he hit the first note. Gus’s smooth even voice, combined with his thick brown hair and tight slim body, brought the proverbial curtain down every year. The award ceremony wouldn’t have been the same without Gus, and it compensated for having to sit through Chester Bork’s awful accordion rendition of Stars Fell on Alabama, and curvy Misty Robinson’s fire baton twirling act.
During intermission that year, while everyone raced toward the lemon square table, Gus heard a text alert and he glanced down at his phone. He smiled when he read it. “Meet me in the locker room right now.”
He read it again, shook his head, and replied, “I can’t meet you now. I’m going to perform soon. I’ll see you later tonight after the award ceremony.”
Gus waited a moment, and then read the reply to his reply. He knew it was coming. “Get back here now.”
He smiled, turned, and headed back to the locker rooms where the football players showered. He knew it would be empty. They used the girl’s locker room as a dressing room for the awards ceremony because everyone claimed the boy’s locker room smelled too damp and musty. Principal Mary Lucille, who had always preferred the girl’s locker room anyway, claimed the scent of swampy young men in the boy’s locker room was so strong it made her left eye twitch and she refused to step through the doorway.
The smell of young men didn’t bother Gus at all. It made him feel comfortable in a way that was hard to describe. When he entered the dark boy’s locker room that night he took a deep breath, inhaled, and smiled. As he crossed to the back where the showers were located, he heard a locker door slam. He figured it had to be his boyfriend, Craig Hasselthorn, because everyone else was out front eating lemon squares and drinking surgery orange punch out of little cardboard containers.
“Where are you?” Gus said, as he rounded a locker room bench. He spotted a discarded jock strap on the floor. He hadn’t been back there since he’d graduated from High School and so many memories came rushing back to him.
“I’m back here,” Craig said. “I’ve got something real special for you.”
Gus followed the sound of his voice to a locker room bench near the shower room entrance and laughed. “Oh, I’ll bet you do.”
He found Craig sitting in the middle of the bench, with his strong, fuzzy legs hanging over each side, resting back on his hands. Craig wasn’t wearing anything except a jock strap and a great big smile.

Valley of the Dudes FREE Gay Excerpt; Drag Queen Ghostbusters Parody; George Takei Welcomes Gay Characters On Star Trek

Valley of the Dudes FREE Gay Excerpt

I haven’t done a free excerpt in a while, so it’s long overdue. I stopped because life was getting really busy and there was only so much time to fulfill work obligations and family obligations. But things have calmed down lately with the family obligations.

Here’s the blurb and I’ve posted the excerpt below at the bottom of this post.

I’ll post a new introduction to the book that explains more about it (and why I wrote it) tomorrow. And, I’ll put up links as soon as I get them. I don’t have them all yet.

Side note: this is a gay erotic romance parody.

This is the story of several talented young gay men, of their fight for recognition, and of the unexpected price they will pay for getting the fame they so desperately crave. Their lives are charmed in many ways, the secrets they keep hidden rule them, the sex never seems to end, and the gay lives they lead appear magical on the surface. However, beneath all the orgasms and glamour, are the addictions to alcohol, pills, and substances that help them survive in this jungle of ecstasy and fortune…the “Dudes” of the stars. They are the real secrets to success and exploitation and survival in the Valley of the Dudes.

Drag Queen Ghostbusters Parody

Speaking of gay parody…a huge part of gay culture that straight people don’t always understand, or want to understand…this looks like fun. And why not? They’ve been parodying us for years, especially in Hollywood. And it works. 

When there’s something strange in the neighborhood, who you gonna call? Jackie Beat, Lady Red Couture, Bianca Del Rio and Sherry Vine, of course!

The new Ghostbusters movie has been on everyone’s lips for weeks, so what better time than now to release a hilarious drag queen parody? Then, to add a cherry on top of it all, the video guest features RuPaul‘s Drag Race fan favorite Alyssa Edwards.

You can check the video out here.

George Takei Welcomes Gay Characters On Star Trek

In all fairness, I thought it was important to post this about George Takei as a follow up to other stories I’ve posted this week. He’s not okay with Star Trek making an existing character gay for artistic reasons, but he is okay with having gay characters on Star Trek. He claims that most accounts of what he said recently have been “misleading.” Of course I believe him, and I was hoping he would make a statement to clear it up.

Here it is, in part:

On the specific question of Sulu being gay, when I was first approached with the concept, I responded that I hoped instead that Gene Roddenberry’s original characters and their backgrounds would be respected. How exciting it would be instead if a new hero might be created, whose story could be fleshed out from scratch, rather than reinvented. To me, this would have been even more impactful. While I understand that we are in an alternate timeline with the new Trek movies, for me it seemed less than necessary to tinker with an existing character in order to fulfill Gene’s hope of a truly diverse Trek universe. And while I am flattered that the character of Sulu apparently was selected as an homage to me, this was never about me or what I wanted. It was about being true to Gene’s vision and storytelling.

You can read it in full here. It’s a long statement, and I think I agree with it. I was recently placed in a position with Valley of the Dudes where I was asked to change the characters, and I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t think it could be done. We compromised and we reached an agreement and I made a few changes that did work. Whenever something is complete, it’s not always a good idea to change it.

But most of all, I think Takei is spot on when he mentions that this kind of controversy makes for better sales. And they did get attention. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong, but it works.

So while I don’t think anyone will hold this against Takei for feeling the way he does about his art, I thought it was important to post his statement to clear up some of the rumors.

FREE Gay Excerpt Valley of the Dudes

You all know I only post things here on the blog that are SFW. But the book itself is an erotic romance. 

This is from Chapter One…

Rush Goodwin had lived his entire life in a small New England town. He was an only child living with his widowed mother and her spinster sister, and always dreamed of the day he would begin a new life in New York City.

He kept his wavy brown hair at a medium length and wore a thin, well-manicured layer of facial hair on purpose that looked more like five o’clock shadow than an actual beard which he trimmed daily to achieve a scruffy look on purpose. In the right light, his brown hair took on a reddish tint that grew more pronounced in the summertime. And when he wasn’t working, he often wore knitted caps on his head all year long.

He could get away with a lot: he had a handsome face, with a strong square chin, full lips,and deep brown almond-shaped eyes. Though he wasn’t extremely athletic, he had the tight,sculpted body of a young baseball player. When he walked into a crowded room, both men and women looked in his direction.

He didn’t want to move to New York because small town life was bad. Rush had been very fortunate. His mother and his Aunt Julia rarely discussed the fact that he was gay, but they’d accepted his lifestyle, quietly, without any arguments or complaints. They greeted his boyfriend,Harold, with smiles and invited him to dinner on Sundays. When Rush went away on long weekend trips with Harold, they didn’t roll their eyes and look in the other direction. But Rush was eager to experience more in life than what he’d always known. He craved these new experiences with such fortitude there were times he couldn’t sleep at night.

So one cold snowy day, not long after he’d received his law degree, he told his mother and his aunt he was moving to New York. (He’d been planning the move in his head for a while and he’d already passed the New York Bar Exam so that he could legally practice law in New York.)This happened on a Friday evening. They had just finished dinner and Rush was waiting for Harold to pick him up. Rush sat down on a footstool in front of his mother’s favorite wing chair and leaned forward. He told her he’d applied to an entertainment law firm, he’d gone on a series of interviews, and they’d offered him a job in New York. He even knew where he could sublet a small apartment; all he had to do was sign the lease. Rush said he hadn’t mentioned his plans earlier because he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d get the job. He’d just found out it was all definite that morning.

His mother stopped knitting and stared at Aunt Julia. She lowered the knitting needles to her lap and raised her eyebrows. Aunt Julia glanced back with large blue eyes as she sat in another wing chair beside a blazing fire, reading a novel she’d already read a dozen times. His mother pressed her lips together and turned her head toward Rush. “Are you absolutely certain about this?” she asked. “You already have a stable position here in Connecticut with an excellent law firm. This sounds awfully impulsive.”

Rush nodded and reached for her hands. “I’m sure. This is something I’ve always wanted to do. The only thing I’m worried about is leaving you both here alone.”

Rush had always been the man in the family. His father had been killed in a car accident when Rush was 12 years old. Since then, Rush had been the one who’d dealt with the plumber,the electrician, and the auto mechanic. The house where he’d grown up was one of those big old brick colonials, with white trim and no shutters. There were white dormers on the third floor and two wide chimneys on both ends of the house. It had been in his mother’s family for over 200years. Supposedly, the basement had been used as a shelter during the days of the Underground Railroad.

His mother took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ll be fine,” she said, nodding at her sister, raising an eyebrow. “But moving to a place like New York is a big decision.”

He smiled. “I know it is. This wasn’t an impulsive decision. I promise. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“I see,” she said. “When do you leave?”

He squeezed her hands and hesitated for a moment. Her face was still tight and expressionless. “In a couple of weeks,” He said. “I’m worried about you, though.”

“Ah well,” she said, taking a quick breath, allowing her face to soften. “We’ll be just fine.” Then she tilted her head to the left and asked, “What about Harold?”

Rush knew his mother was wondering about whether or not he and Harold were moving to New York together, as a couple. Rush had been with Harold since he was a freshman in college and he’d never dated anyone else. “I haven’t told Harold about this yet.” Part of the reason he wanted to move to New York was Harold. But he didn’t mention this to his mother or his aunt. His mother frowned and gave his aunt a look. She said, “I suggest you tell him as soon as possible.”

“We’re going to the movies tonight,” Rush said. “I was planning to tell him afterwards.” He released his mother’s hands and stood up. He squared his shoulders and asked, “So you’re okay with this?”

His mother shrugged and lifted the knitting needles. As she poked the tip of one needle into a loop of red yarn, she smiled and said, “If this is what you want to do, I’m fine with it. And you’re not moving to the end of the world. You’re only moving to New York. We’ll be just fine here in Connecticut.”

Later that night, while Rush and Harold were leaving the movie theater, Rush told Harold about his plans to move to New York. The theater had been empty and the few people that had been there were bundled up and trotting toward their cars to get out of the cold. Rush’s voice was low and soft and he spoke without a hint of concern. He made his announcement while they were crossing the snowy parking lot to Harold’s car. Harold was still talking about the movie. Harold stopped walking; he faced Rush and furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re doing what?” he asked. His head went up and his strong, patrician chin jutted out.

Rush took a deep breath and stared down at his shoes. In the years they had been together, Harold had always been the one who took control, in a very passive aggressive way. He’d practically planned every moment of their lives, and Rush had let him do it. “I’m moving to New York in a couple of weeks. I have a new job with an entertainment law firm that represents celebrities and I’ll probably sublet an apartment in Chelsea.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Harold asked. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looking directly into Rush’s eyes. He was reacting like a scorned employer when his best worker quits, not like a jilted lover.

Harold had a tendency to think everything that happened between them revolved around him. “It’s not about you, Harold,” Rush said. “It’s me. I’m restless. And you know I’ve always talked about moving to New York.”

There had been many times he’d mentioned how much he wanted to leave New England and move to New York. But Harold was a dentist, and he worked in his father’s established dental practice in New Haven. Whenever Rush suggested Harold could start his own practice in New York, Harold thought he’d lost his mind. There was no way Harold was giving up a successful position to start all over again in New York City. He told Rush they could visit New York any time Rush wanted. But they weren’t moving there full time.

“I know you’ve mentioned it,” Harold said. “But I never thought you were serious about it. After all, we can go to New York whenever we want. We’re not living in Kansas.”

This was part of the problem. Harold liked being a small town boy, and he never seemed to take anything about Rush seriously. But Rush didn’t want to argue. “Don’t be mad, Harold. This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I need to do this. If I don’t, I think I’ll suffocate here. There are times I wake up in the morning to face another day and I honestly don’t think I can breathe.” Harold removed his hands from his pockets and took a step forward. He put his arm around Rush and said, “Let’s get in the car.” Then he lowered his head and nibbled on Rush’s earlobe. “I know how to make you feel better.”

This was another part of the problem. Harold was extremely good looking. He stood over six feet tall, he had the defined, muscular body of a professional athlete from competing in triathlons, and he had droopy, steel blue eyes. His hair was sandy blond and his face looked as if it had been chiseled out of stone. Though Rush and Harold were two very different people who wanted very different things in life, there was a sexual connection between them that went beyond all sense of reason.

Rush pulled away from Harold and said, “I think we should both just go home and talk about this tomorrow. My mind is made up and I’m moving to New York. I have to do this.” He wasn’t officially breaking up with Harold that night. And he wasn’t moving to New York to meet new men. His restlessness went much deeper than that. But he wasn’t sure having sex with Harold tonight was a good idea.

Harold raised an eyebrow and smiled, and then he reached for the back of Rush’s head, in the middle of the snow covered parking lot, and kissed him on the mouth. When he finally removed his tongue from Rush’s mouth, he said, “Let’s get into the car. We haven’t fooled around inside the car in a long time.”

Rush was ready to take another step back. But when Harold reached down and placed his strong hand on the small of his back, he leaned into the left side of Harold’s strong body and followed him to the car. The best part about being with conservative, dependable Harold was that they were both adamantly monogamous, so there was no need for condoms, and it was safe and familiar.

When they reached the car and Harold clicked the locks, Harold opened the back door instead of the front door and practically shoved Rush into the back seat. Harold drove a large, black Yukon; the backseat was spacious and all the windows were tinted with dark film. If anyone had been walking around in the empty parking lot, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything that was happening in the backseat.

Harold followed him into the backseat and pulled off his coat. He leaned forward and switched on the engine to get the car warm. When he sat back, he grabbed Rush’s coat, unzipped it, and pulled it off his body. Rush’s pants were already tight and his erection pointed up so far it reached the waistband. Even if having sex with Harold that night was a mistake, things had already gone too far to end it.


The Rainbow Detective Agency: Rancho Mirage; FREE Gay Excerpt; Gay Night With New York Mets; Elton John Would Rather See A Drag Queen

The Rainbow Detective Agency: Rancho Mirage

This book almost didn’t get published. In fact, it almost didn’t get written. I was about 30,000 words into the 60,000 word novel when I did something stupid and lost the entire file. I hadn’t backed it up anywhere, which I usually do. I still don’t even know what happened or how the file got lost. I worked for days trying to recover the lost file, and nothing worked. And when I was finally ready to give up and shelve the book completely so I could start something new, I found a youtube video that helped me figure out a way to find it in the most remote part of my hard drive.

It’s also the last book, for now, in The Rainbow Detective series. It’s book number nine on Amazon, but it’s really number eight because Amazon includes the four book box set.

You can find Rancho Mirage here as an e-book, and in all the other places e-books are sold, like Smashwords, iTunes, and Allromanceebooks. And, this one will also be available in print eventually. I’ve posted a short excerpt from the novel, below.

Gay Night With New York Mets

I think this shows how far things have come in the world of pro sports. And, I think it’s helping to remove the stigma and shame that has always been associated with being LGBT. I don’t want to make it any more complicated than that. It’s a simple gesture with a strong message.

The New York Mets have announced that they will be hosting a Pride Night this summer in recognition of their LGBTI fans.
The announcement, which was made yesterday at a press conference in Queens, New York, yesterday, makes the Mets the first New York pro team in the city to host a Pride Night.
The Chicago Cubs have been running a Pride Night since 2001 and the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Francisco Giants organized similar events last season.

You can read the rest here. I understand the intentions are good and it seems to be getting a great deal of support.

Elton John Would Rather See A Drag Queen

This time Elton John is speaking up about how he would rather see a drag queen perform than see Janet Jackson lip sync. I’m not totally sure, but I think there’s a slur against drag queens somewhere hidden in this.

Don’t expect to see Elton John anywhere near Janet Jackson once the ailing pop diva resumes her Unbreakable concert tour in May.
‘You know, fucking music magazines writing a review of Janet Jackson saying, “This is the greatest show – four and a half stars.” It’s fucking lip-synced! Hello! That’s not a show!’ John tellsRolling Stone in a new profile.
‘I’d rather go and see a drag queen,’ he adds. ‘Fuck off.’

This is where I really don’t understand these celebrities sometimes. Elton John goes after another singer and the other singer goes silent. If I were Janet Jackson I’d probably respond with something like, “Interesting. I always thought Elton John was a fucking drag queen.” I don’t think I’d just sit back and smile. And I think Elton John would get my point.

In any event, Elton John never called me any names so I have nothing against him. I just thought I would point out how I might respond if I were Janet Jackson. It’s only normal.

You can read the rest here, where they also talk about Elton John’s feud with his 90 year old mum. Mum called his husband, “that fucking asshole David Furnish.” That’s a direct quote.

Excerpt From Rancho Mirage

There are no serious spoilers in this one. I made sure of that.

Chapter Six
With no time left to shower, Blair cleaned up in the bathroom first and then Proctor and Bob cleaned up at the same time. Although Bob was well spoken and he sounded fairly well educated he often said unexpected things that made Proctor smile. They were in the bathroom sharing the sink and Bob said, “Do you need a separate wash cloth to sink wash your nuts, man?”
Proctor laughed and said, “No thanks. I’ll just use yours when you’re finished with it.” The guy had just finished doing the most intimate things imaginable. He saw no point in avoiding sharing the same wash cloth. Even though the apartment was messy, it was clean and nothing in the bathroom was repulsive. The white tiled floor had been mopped, the toilet sparkled, and white pedestal sink didn’t have one single stain. In fact, the towels, unlike the rest of the place, smelled as if he’d used mountain fresh scent in the laundry.
When they joined Blair in the main section of the apartment he was already dressed and ready to leave. Bob mentioned he worked as a bartender part time somewhere in West Hollywood, and he put on a crisp white shirt and tight black pants. While they dressed Bob also mentioned he had a degree in fine arts with a theater concentration from a college in New York and he’d moved out to the west coast to pursue a career in acting. Blair rarely offered anything personal about his life to anyone and he stood near the door smiling and nodding. Proctor didn’t want to get to know Bob better so he just listened and smiled without offering any detailed information about himself.
Proctor found his pants and underwear on the floor next to his socks and shoes but he couldn’t find his shirt. There were so many articles of clothing on the floor it must have gotten mixed in with them and Proctor didn’t have time to waste looking for it.
“I can’t find my shirt anywhere,” Proctor said.
Blair laughed. “That’s a novelty. Usually you can’t find your underpants.”
Proctor sent him a look and didn’t reply. Blair often found it amusing to make cheesy bottom jokes about Proctor because Proctor didn’t have sex with strange men that often. If it had been up to Blair they would have had non-stop sex with strangers but Proctor never had the urge to be that promiscuous.
Bob went to the closet and pulled out a plain black V-neck shirt that went with everything. He handed it to Proctor and said, “Wear this. We’re the same size shirt and I kind of like knowing that you’re wearing my shirt.”
Blair rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that sweet and tender. It gives me the feels.”
Proctor knew Blair’s sarcasm and he didn’t want to encourage it. He took the shirt from Bob and said, “Let me buy it from you. I have cash.”
As he reached for his wallet in his back pocket, Bob stepped back and shook his head. “No way. When I find your shirt I’ll have it cleaned and then when I drop it off you can give me back this one. Even trade.”
 Proctor hated to owe anyone anything. He’d never been the type to borrow clothes, cars, books, or even money from friends. He didn’t even like it when people paid for him at restaurants. He preferred to pay his own way and not owe anything to anyone. However, he didn’t have time to argue the point and he could see Bob was not going to take his money.
“Okay,” Proctor said. “But don’t worry about my shirt. Whenever you find it that’s okay with me.” He slipped the silky black shirt over his head and detected a light scent of the body spray Bob had used in the bathroom a few minutes earlier. It wasn’t an offensive aroma. It was some kind of watered down masculine body spray that could be purchased in any drugstore.
A few minutes later, they exchanged contact information with their phones and Bob walked them down to the car. As he turned to get into his own car, he grabbed Proctor by the waist and kissed him on the sidewalk in front of all the cars moving up and down Fairfax. And when he let go and stepped back, he patted Proctor on the ass and said, “I’ll call you later.”
Blair laughed and said, “That’s a smart move, dude. He doesn’t like texting.”
Proctor glared at Blair, and then he smiled at Bob and said, “I’ll see you later.” He just said that to be polite; he didn’t intend to see him again for a while, if ever.
When they were finally on the road headed back to the office, Blair looked up from his phone and said, “He’s a nice guy. I like him.”
Proctor slowed down for traffic at the intersection and said, “He’s a very nice guy but when he calls I’m going to let him know this afternoon was a onetime deal. It’s not going to happen again.”
Blair shrugged and looked down at his phone again. He seemed to be having trouble tweeting something and it looked as if he were diffusing a bomb. “It’s up to you. But I like him and I wouldn’t mind hooking up with him again.”

FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt; Susan Sarandon, Hillary, and Gays; Gus Kenworthy and Russian Hotel Room; Nate Berkus True Story

Susan Sarandon, Hillary, and Gays

Susan Sarandon tossed a little shade in Hillary Clinton’s direction with a few honest, accurate comments about Hillary’s stand on gay rights. You can’t knock Sarandon for this one. For the most part, she’s right.

The actress and activist lent her star power to a Bernie Sanders rally in Iowa on Thursday (28 January) evening, where she blasted the former secretary of state for voting for the Iraq War, taking money from Wall Street and ‘equivocating’ on issues such as gay marriage.

‘It’s one thing to be for gay rights and gay marriage once everybody else is for it. That’s not difficult,’ she told a crowd of Sanders supporters.

Sanders, on the other hand, is ‘untainted’ and ‘has managed to consistently be on the right side of every issue the correct side of every issue that reflects my concerns,’ she later told

You can read more here. 

I know the comments about Hillary are true, but I’m not so sure about Sanders.  According to, Sanders was did not always support gay marriage…support being the key word.

But his record on gay marriage is more complicated than he now makes it sound. While Sanders generally opposed measures to ban gay marriage, he did not speak out in favor of it until 2009. That’s still ahead of Clinton, who released a YouTube video announcing her support in 2013, as well as most other Democratic Senators, but not as early as he’s now casting it.

So Sarandon is partially correct. But I do like…love…what Sanders said here:

“I’m not evolving when it comes to gay rights. I was there,” Sanders told the New York Times earlier this year.

That word. Evolving. It’s been used by Hillary too many times and I’m not too thrilled with it.  An apology might be more appropriate.

Gus Kenworthy and Russian Hotel Room

When Gus Kenworthy tried to check into a hotel room in Russia with his boyfriend he got an interesting surprise.

‘I had been in Russia the year before for the test event with my boyfriend and they wouldn’t let us check into the hotel room. They were like, “Two guys can’t be in the same bed,”‘ Kenworthy tells Attitude magazine.

Kenworthy, 25, came out publicly last fall and remained firmly closeted during that competition and during the Olympics.

‘It felt shitty,’ he said of being closeted at that time.

‘I wasn’t worried about being targeted necessarily, because nobody knew that I was gay but I still felt uncomfortable knowing how Russia, the country and the government, felt about me,’ he says.

You can read more here. Since coming out, Kenworthy has become somewhat of an inspiration and example to gay men all over the globe. And it’s really mostly about what he says and how he says it. It’s always good to hear from him.

Nate Berkus True Story

If you’ve never watched Nate Berkus on The Home Shopping Network, you’ve missed something interesting. He’s not only talented, but he’s also honest, up front, and you never get the feeling he’s pushing anything too hard.

Berkus also has an interesting story to tell, a story that trumps those of most people, gay or straight. I’ve known about it for a long time, but in case you didn’t…

It was a decade earlier that photographer Fernando Bengoechea had been swept out to sea when a tsunami struck Sri Lanka where the couple had been vacationing. Berkus managed to survive the disaster that took more than 30,000 lives but the pain long remained.

 ‘I didn’t know how to articulate what I needed from a new relationship,’ Berkus says in a new interview with his mentor Oprah Winfrey on an episode of Where Are They Now which airs Sunday (24 January).

When Tony was hospitalized, near death, in the summer of 2007, I remember catching an interview with Berkus late at night by accident, and at the time he was a huge inspiration to me. I thought if Berkus can go through all that, I can get through all this. And I did, partly thanks to many of the things he said in that interview. 

I also love his white sheets.

You can read the rest here.


Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming book in The Rainbow Detective Agency series, Rancho Mirage. It’s going to be the last book in the series…for now. And I wanted to tie up a story line with one of the minor characters. I tie up a few other things as well. The following excerpt is from a part of the book where Blair and Proctor attend a small LGBT business conference in Rancho Mirage, CA, where they get into a little more trouble than they expected. Blair is not too thrilled to be there either.

On the way down to the banquet room, Proctor reached over to adjust Bob’s black tie. “You look nice tonight, too, Bob. You certainly do dress up very well.” He said this on purpose. He adjusted Bob’s tie in a seductive way on purpose as well. He’d already complimented the way Bob looked and he’d been completely ignoring Blair to see if he could get a reaction from Blair.
Blair looked down at the floor and frowned. “No one said anything about how I look tonight.” He was talking to Proctor and everyone knew it.
Proctor smiled and reached over to adjust Blair’s tie. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix that. You look better than any man has ever looked in a formal tuxedo, and better than any man will ever look again.” Then he patted Blair on the cheek and smiled even wider.
“Oh, you are an evil, cruel man,” Blair said. He glanced at Proctor and almost laughed. “I see I’ve taught you very well. Now you’re beating me at my own game.”
“And you love every minute of it,” Proctor said.
Bob laughed. “Okay, guys. Calm yourselves. Before you rip off each other’s clothes, the elevator is about to stop and the doors are going to open.”
“They can’t help themselves,” Vina said to Bob. “They’ve been like this since the beginning. They argue, they insult each other, they complain, and then they make love. It’s their game. It’s what they do best. I’m used to it. You’ll get used to it eventually.”
Proctor and Blair exchanged a glance and shrugged at the same time, as if they had no idea what Vina was talking about.
Before Blair had a chance to reply, the elevator opened and Bob said, “Should I pretend I’m Vina’s escort tonight?” He smiled at Vina. “I don’t mind in the least. I would be honored.”
Proctor thought that was one of the nicest things he’d heard all week, however, he had other plans for Vina. “No. You’re with us tonight, Bob, and I don’t care who wonders about it. The whole point of Vina being here is to meet new people and have a little fun for a change. If guys think she’s with you no one will come over to her.”
“I don’t mind,” Vina said, with a shaky voice. “I’ll let Bob be my escort. It’s fine with me. Maybe I should take things slowly tonight.”
Proctor stepped out of the elevator and they all followed him toward the banquet room. “Don’t get nervous now, Vina. You’ve come a long way and this is no time to back out. I have a feeling you’re going to be very surprised tonight.”  Although Vina wasn’t a raving beauty there was something about her general appearance that exuded sex appeal. It was the kind of sex appeal that came from a combination of several small physical flaws. When her slightly crooked nose and all of her other unusual features came together they created a look that resembled a cross between a younger version of Donatella Versace, Lady Gaga, and Melania Trump.

“Should I say anything?” Vina asked, as they approached the banquet room.
“About what?” Proctor asked.
 “Should I mention I’m a transgender person to people?”
Blair smiled. “You take this one, Proctor. It’s too easy.”
Proctor knew what Blair was thinking. He put his arm around Vina and said, “Absolutely not. You don’t have to say anything to anyone. You are who you are and you have to learn how to be proud of that. If and when you get to know someone better you can tell them whatever you want. But in the beginning, just be yourself and that’s all that matters. Most people will figure out you’re a transgender person on their own and they’ll either love you for it or they’ll walk away. You don’t need the people who walk away. Let them go with pleasure.”
“That’s how I’ve always handled it,” Bob said.
They all looked at him and tilted their heads to the side at the same time.
“I’m talking about being gay,” Bob said. “I never came out of the closet. I never made any announcements that I’m gay. Here I am. This is who I am. If you don’t like it kiss my ass.”
Proctor smiled. “I like that. It’s crude, but I like it.” Even though they were only ten years apart in age, Proctor came from a time when coming out was looked at as a sign of pride and strength. It was peer pressure, too. You had to come out in order to be accepted in the gay community. However, he’d noticed that younger men like Bob were opting for a different approach and he couldn’t blame them. In fact, he was starting to question a few things in his life.
“Okay, enough talking,” Blair said. “We’re starting to overthink again. Let’s just get in there and get the bad food and listen to the bad music so we can get this night over with.”
“Stop complaining,” Proctor said, glancing into the crowded banquet room. “You might have the best time of your life.”
Blair reached around and grabbed his ass. “Not until we go back up to the room.”
As Blair had predicted, the food turned out to be overcooked beef, some kind of soggy vegetable medley, square potatoes, and a wedge of iceberg lettuce. They were seated at a table of eight near the dance floor with two other generic gay couples from California. One was a middle aged married lesbian couple where the older one wore a man’s tuxedo and the younger wore a frilly white little Miss Muffet dress. The one wearing the tuxedo was a dentist and the one in the Miss Muffet dress was, so she claimed, a stay-at-home-mom. It wasn’t until she showed Proctor photos of their “children” on her phone that Proctor got the full message. When she held the phone in front of him and started scrolling, all he saw were pictures of cats.
The other couple came from some little town in the mountains Proctor had never heard of…and didn’t care to hear more about…and they ran a touristy gift shop called Where the Ember Glows. They were the quasi, amateur creative gay types Proctor always ran into at these conventions and conferences. The older one was about fifty pounds overweight. He wore a tuxedo jacket he couldn’t button, a red plaid cummerbund, and a matching red plaid kilt instead of pants…a mistake. The younger one…and he wasn’t much younger…wore a black tuxedo with a rainbow cummerbund and matching rainbow tie. This guy looked as if he’d stepped out of a Disney movie. He was bean pole thin with a chin so long and pointy Proctor was afraid Blair might ask him if he wanted to build a snowman.
While the lesbian couple and the two guys from the mountain town were talking about how much they “adored” a political candidate, Blair leaned into Proctor’s side and said, “How much longer do I have to endure this nightmare?”
Proctor rolled his eyes. “Be patient, Blair.” He glanced over at Vina and saw she was staring at the dance floor with a sullen expression. He was so hoping she’d meet someone new and fresh that night and it didn’t seem to be happening. “The music hasn’t even started yet.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Blair said. “Let me see, will it be Barry Manilow or Air Supply?”
Bob overheard that comment and laughed. “It can’t be that bad,” he said.
Proctor remained silent. He knew it could get much worse.
Blair tilted his head and said, “You wanna bet?”
“Finish your dinner like a good boy,” Proctor said, pointing to Blair’s plate.
Blair pointed to Proctor’s plate and said, “You didn’t finish yours.”
“I’m allergic,” Proctor said, trying not to laugh.
Bob looked confused. “You’re allergic to beef.”
Blair jumped in before Proctor could reply. “He’s not allergic to anything. He just says that whenever he doesn’t want to eat something he doesn’t like. And people always believe him.”
Bob shrugged. “Well if you two aren’t going to eat anything can I have it?”
Blair picked up his plate filled with overcooked beef and switched it with Bob’s empty plate. “Here you go. Be my guest.”
As he sat there listening to Bob and Blair, and then listening to the two other couples at their table, Proctor realized just how diverse gay people really are. Even though Blair and Bob were a lot alike in many ways, even they had their differences. It made Proctor wonder about a lot of things in his life he’d always taken for granted. When he’d been younger he’d always just assumed that all gay people had similar interests and things in common and the older he grew the more he realized that wasn’t true at all. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything to Blair yet, but he was seriously thinking about changing the name of the agency. The Rainbow Detective Agency had seemed like a good name at the time, but he was starting to wonder whether or not it was too inclusive now with the world changing so fast.
When the music started to play, the first song turned out to be an older Ricky Martin song Proctor hadn’t heard since the 90s. He didn’t have to look at Blair this time. Blair poked in in the ribs with his elbow and said, “And there you go. Time to Macarena. Just hit me over the head with a two by four and be done with it.”
“Well at least it’s not Barry Manilow,” Proctor said.
“Don’t worry, that’s coming soon,” Blair said.
Proctor turned to Bob to see if he wanted to dance. Blair hated to dance and Proctor didn’t want to force him into anything else that night. He wasn’t sure how Bob felt about dancing so he decided to ask. However, as he looked at Bob he noticed Bob’s plate was empty. He’d eaten his dinner, Blair’s dinner, and he’d just finished Proctor’s dinner. “How can you eat so much and keep that fantastic body?”
Bob shrugged and said, “I never had a weight problem. I can eat as much as I want and I can eat anything I want. Do you want to dance?”
He asked so casually and without warning Proctor smiled. “Yes, I’d love to dance.”
As Proctor stood and reached for Bob’s hand, he was about to lean over and whisper into Blair’s ear. He wanted to ask Blair to dance with Vina if no one else came along. However, he didn’t get a chance. Right before he leaned over a tall, dark attractive young man walked over to Vina and said, “Can I have this dance? My name is Charlie Kilpatrick and I’ve been watching you since you arrived. I hope that’s okay.”
Vina shot Proctor a glance and Proctor smiled and sent her an encouraging nod.
Vina looked up at Charlie and said, “I’m a transgender person.”
Blair smacked his forehead and said, “So much for not saying anything at first.”
Proctor poked Blair in the head with his elbow this time.
Charlie said, “I know that. I told you I’ve been watching you for a while and it doesn’t matter one way or the other to me. I’d like to dance and get to know you better.”
“You would?” Vina asked, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.
“Yes, I would,” Charlie said.
Proctor smiled and winked at Vina. “Go dance with him. Have some fun.”
For a moment, Vina hesitated. She stared at Proctor, took a quick breath, and then she finally stood up. Proctor watched Charlie lead her onto the dance floor. When she tripped over her own feet…in her defense, she wasn’t used to wearing such high heels…Charlie smiled and helped her gain her balance without making a big deal of it. He simply placed his palm on the small of Vina’s back and they glided away from the tables as if they’d known each other for years instead of minutes.
The lesbian couple and the guys from the mountains stood up at the same time and they headed to the dance floor. Bob pulled Proctor closer and Proctor turned to Blair and asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind being left all alone here?”
“We can stay here with you,” Bob said. “We don’t have to dance.”
Blair shook his head and waved them off. “Go dance. I’m fine. I’m sure they’ll be serving the melted vanilla ice cream soon and I’ve been waiting for that all night.”

FREE Gay Exceprt; Strip Tennis with Rafael Nadal; Vestor Flanagan Alleged Male Escort; Venice Mayor Banning Gay Pride

FREE Gay Excerpt

Here’s an excerpt, at the bottom of this post, from When A Man Loves A Man, another book in the Glendora Hill series. It’s being released sometime this week and I’ll post more links and info when I get it from the publisher. I would imagine sometime next week. 

Strip Tennis with Rafael Nadal

Yes, this is pure clickbait. Yes, it’s stupid. But it’s also fun and life is short. Besides, another gay celebrity made headlines with a rant about politics and I’m staying as far away from that sort of thing for the next year as I possibly can.

I like things like this a lot better these days.

Rafael Nadal is having a bit of a moment (as if 14 Grand Slam titles and an Olympic gold medal haven’t been enough) as the new face (and body, mostly body) of Tommy Hilfiger underwear.

You can check this out here. I wish I could share the photos here, but I don’t have permission and bloggers can’t take those chances anymore unless they do have permission.

Vestor Flanagan Alleged Male Escort

Vestor Flanagan was the real name of Bryce Williams, the disgruntled employee who shot and killed two innocent people who worked at a TV news station in Virginia. This article alleges that he once worked as a gay male escort. It’s already been established that he was gay.

Now, People is reporting that before his career in television news, Flanagan “exchanged sex for money in the mid-1990s.” Sources say Flanagan worked as a male escort during a period of unemployment between 1995 and 1997, when he was in his early 20s.

You can check that out here, with a photo of Flanagan from what appears to be his escort days.

The comments are varied. A few people slammed Queerty for this article but I’m on Queerty’s side with this one. It’s creepy, it’s painfully sad, but also newsworthy. If Flanagan had been straight and he’d worked as a straight male escort that would have made the news, too.

Venice Mayor Banning Gay Pride

The mayor of Venice, Italy, Luigi Brugnaro, would like to ban gay pride events. His reasons aren’t as homophobic as you might think…but they are a little unusual and many are upset over it. In other words, I don’t think he’s anti-gay…at least I hope not…but it’s not totally clear.

“There will be no gay pride in my Venice,” Luigi Brugnaro told La Repubblica newspaper, before describing the event as both farcical and kitsch.

The rest is here. Of course there was a reply from gay activists.

And here’s the excerpt from When A Man Loves A Man

On the way home, he checked his phone again and there was nothing from Bobby Joe, not even a little smiley face text, which he often did when they were both at work. This wasn’t usual for Bobby Joe. The truth was Bobby Joe had always been the one who tended to be jealous and overly possessive of Clayton.
          The more he walked, the harder he thought. He wound up running again, wondering how long it would take him to get to Glendora Hill. He’d never even heard of the place, and as a country western singer he’d traveled through a good deal of Texas by then. He knew Austin fairly well, and he knew the roads that would lead him into the general direction of Glendora Hill. He could find his way to the little town with GPS on his phone, and ask for directions to the Marshall Ranch in town when he arrived.
          He decided Will was right. There was no good solid reason why he shouldn’t show up at the Marshall Ranch that weekend and surprise Bobby Joe. He would tell the family they were just good friends and he was in the area and stopped by to say hello. He didn’t even plan on spending the weekend. He only wanted to meet the family and show Bobby Joe it was okay to be seen together in front of them. No one ever knew he was gay unless he mentioned it aloud. If anything, other people usually could tell Bobby Joe was gay so his family had to suspect something.
          So he went home, showered, and dressed so fast he left the wet towels on the floor and shaving stubble in the sink. He put on his newest white shirt, his cleanest jeans, and his black cowboy boots with new heels. He didn’t plan to stay at the ranch for long, but he packed a vintage brown valise Bobby Joe had given him last Christmas with a few things just in case they asked him to stay. Then he turned out the lights, grabbed his cowboy hat from a hook near the door, and went downstairs to his truck.
          As he started the truck, he realized it was even hotter outside and he didn’t want to show up in Glendora Hill looking like a mess. The truck was old, a green 1962 Studebaker Champ he’d inherited from his grandfather when he’d turned sixteen. In spite of its age it only had 42,000 miles on the odometer. He drove it all over Houston and people constantly asked him about it. Some made him offers to sell it. His grandfather hadn’t driven it much, and Clayton never actually had to commute any long distances daily in his life. When he played his music in other cities he usually just rented a small car. It was cheaper and he didn’t have to worry. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to rent a car that day, which is what he would have preferred to do. He had to use the old truck and it didn’t have air conditioning.
          So he removed his white shirt and set it neatly on the passenger side of the bench seat. As he pulled away from the curb he noticed the two younger men who had been standing around the warehouse flirting with him the night before. They saw him pull off without his shirt. He glanced in their direction and one of them smiled and gave him two thumbs up. He wasn’t sure if they were a couple or just good friends. He’d started seeing a lot of younger gay men traveling in pairs and groups lately, more so than when he’d been in his early twenties. When he smiled at them, he clutched the steering wheel tighter, thinking about what Bobby Joe was doing to him with this family business. If he’d just been more like Will his life could have been so simple. He could have invited the two young guys up to the loft, played with them all afternoon, and kissed them goodbye forever at the end of the day. But he had to fall in love with Bobby Joe. He had to have morals and ethics. At times like this he wondered if he wasn’t doing everything all wrong.
          Music calmed him as he drove. The only thing he’d changed about the old truck was the radio. He had a newer system installed, with Bluetooth, so he could listen to his favorite country western bands. And sometimes, even though he would never admit this aloud to his brother or another living soul, he played show tunes from Broadway musicals just because they put him in a better mood.
           On the highway, he received a fair share of attention from truckers and others who passed and noticed the classic old pick-up and his naked torso. He paid them no mind; he focused on the road and never glanced sideways to acknowledge them once. For most of the trip to Glendora Hill he remained focused on his anger, and how frustrated he was about not meeting Bobby Joe’s family yet. He even imagined all the worst scenarios, one of which included images of Bobby Joe leading a double life and having a girlfriend in Glendora Hill so his straight, uptight, homophobic family would never guess he was gay.
          When reached the Austin city limits, something interesting happened. As he grew closer to Glendora Hill realizing he would see Bobby Joe again his anger turned into anticipation and he thought more about his appearance and giving Bobby Joe’s family a good first impression. He stopped at the last rest area before he had to exit and went into the bathroom to put on his shirt and check his hair. It felt cooler there, and not as oppressive as it had been in Houston when he’d set out on his road trip. At least he wouldn’t show up a sweaty mess.
          He climbed back into the pick-up and turned off the music. He’d checked a few maps of Texas and he had a basic idea where he was going. He also entered Glendora Hill into his GPS system on the phone, hoping he would keep a signal. Unfortunately, he lost all signals a few miles after he exited the highway and he had to stop off at a small service station to see if they had an old-fashioned paper map, or if they could give him directions to Glendora Hill.

After he filled the gas tank, he went into the service station and found an older man sitting behind a gunmetal desk piled so high with papers and junk he could only see the man’s head. The old man glanced up at him and said, “What can I do for you?” He didn’t have a tooth in his mouth and it looked as if his chin could touch his nose if he tried hard enough.
          Clayton smiled and said, “I’m looking for a little town, Glendora Hill. Do you have a map I could buy?”
          The older man laughed and rubbed his extenuated chin a few times. “Don’t have no maps here, fella. But I can tell you where to go. It’s about as simple as simple gets.” He spoke with a heavy country accent, this kind Clayton hadn’t heard in years.
          “I’d appreciate that,” Clayton said. “I’ve never been there before.”
          The man laughed louder, with one hand on his chin and the other on his stomach. “Then you’re in for a real treat. There’s no place like it.”
          Clayton didn’t ask him to elaborate, and the older man didn’t seem to mind. He went into a short but detailed explanation of how to get from there to the center of Glendora Hill barely stopping at the end of each sentence.
          It sounded simple enough to Clayton, and he didn’t ask for paper or a pen to write anything down. He thanked the older man and offered him a twenty-dollar bill for his help. But the older man lifted his palm and said, “No, thanks, fella. It’s on me.”
          When Clayton returned to the pick-up truck, he pulled out of the station and followed the man’s directions and made a right. This led him to an intersection about four miles away, where he made a left onto a narrow winding road with hills and valleys that never seemed to end. He drove along that road for another half hour until he reached an intersection where he had the stop sign. When he stopped he glanced up at a wooden road sign that pointed to the left and read, “Glendora Hill.” It was one of those old signs made of wood that had been around since the Second World War. The paint was chipped and he could hardly read the writing. He’d seen them before in other parts of Texas, which made him wonder what Glendora Hill was really like. The last time he’d seen a sign like this it led him to a small town that resembled a ghost town in an old western movie, complete with a dirt road. He wondered if this is what the older man at the service station had been referring to when he’d mentioned Clayton was in for a surprise with Glendora Hill.
          He looked at his cell phone again and noticed he was getting a signal now. So he checked the GPS to see if he was headed in the right direction, and then made a left at the intersection onto the road that would lead him into the heart of Glendora Hill.
          After he’d left Houston the sky had become overcast and it looked as if it might rain. It had remained this way for most of the road trip, until he reached the road that would lead him to Glendora Hill. As he drove toward the Main Street, the road grew more winding and narrower and the trees thicker. He also noticed the sky getting bluer and there wasn’t a hint of humidity or a single cloud. In fact, he’d never seen the sky so blue, and it even felt cooler. He thought this was because he he’d been driving uphill since he’d left the last intersection.
          The narrow winding road eventually gave way to a wider stretch. The trees disappeared and there were green meadows on both sides. A few miles after that, he noticed buildings and a few more trees. He figured this must be Glendora Hill, and his suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when he passed a sign that read, “Welcome to Glendora Hill, Texas.” 

The Rainbow Detective Agency Book 6

The Scottish Duke


FREE Gay Excerpt; Joaquín Ferreira Full Frontal Nudity; Ian Riesner, Yet Again

FREE Gay Excerpt

Here’s another free excerpt from the most recent book in The Rainbow Detective Agency Series, The Scottish Duke. The main objective I’d like to get through with this post is that if the sex scenes were taken out of this book…or any other book in the series…the storyline would still hold up on its own. And if you notice, there isn’t a shirtless man on the cover. I do that on purpose sometimes because I get really tired of those “other” authors who think they’re so grand because they don’t write about sex. If you ask me they’re probably the biggest pervs out there. At least I’m always honest about what I do. But I digress, with a big smile.

Here’s a Link. It’s also at most other online web sites where e-books are sold.

Amazon Link for Kindle Readers 

And here’s the blurb:

In this installment of The Rainbow Detective Agency, Blair and Proctor’s passionate relationship has moved forward to the point where they begin a small family and don’t even realize it. And that’s because they’re busy trying to solve the case of a well-known gay romance author, E. Q. Montana, who was so obsessed with Proctor he lined the walls of his unkempt West Hollywood apartment with Proctor’s photos. 

But E. Q. Montana wasn’t just any best-selling gay romance author. E. Q. had a few deep dark secrets and enemies of his own that Proctor and Blair have to figure out, one of which has to do with The Scottish Duke of Huntley. It’s a peculiar case of dangerous literary subterfuge, with sudden twists and vicious, ambitious authors, that has them both stumped emotionally and intellectually, and in the end Proctor’s worst nightmare comes true.

Joaquín Ferreira Full Frontal Nudity

In my ongoing quest to find more films with full frontal male nudity, this sounds more interesting than most of the things I’ve seen.

Even if you are not a fan of telenovelas and don’t understand Spanish, you are missing out on a riDICKulously good reason to watch Club de Cuervos. The 13-episode Netflix series, which centers on a family feud among heirs of a soccer club after the patriarch’s death, features Joaquín Ferreira in all of his jaw-dropping “desnudo” glory.

The Argentinean actor portrays “El Porto” and appears completely naked in a few of his scenes. “It was very clear that his character had to be the sex symbol that would have all the girls and gay boys attached to the TV screen,” Luis Gerardo Méndez, the series’ star and producer, explained about Ferreira’s audition, “and when he walked into the room, he got it.”

We actually just started Netflix binges, so I’ll have to check this one out. Anything subtitled is up in the air with me. I love foreign films, but I read, write, and edit all day and the last thing I want to do is read TV during the two hours a day I actually watch TV.  So I’m not going to run there too fast.

You can read more here.

Ian Reisner,  Yet Again

This article talks about Ian Reisner allegedly holding another event for someone who is allegedly anti-gay. In case you forgot, Reisner is the gay guy who had an event for Ted Cruz, he was practically kicked off Fire Island one weekend from the backlash, and he hasn’t handled any of this with the best strategy. (I’m really not judging him. I just think it could have been handled better.) With a simple search you can find out all the details. But you get the main point and why this is newsworthy.

It was just discovered that the ex-lovers-turned-business-partners also hosted a private fundraiser at their Central Park South penthouse for Tea Partier Sen. Ron Johnson from Wisconsin, raising more than $10,500, back in April.

Johnson, who describes himself as “a pretty traditional guy,” holds a zero ranking out of a possible 100 with the HRC for his stances on gay rights. He’s gone on record to say he believes marriage is between “one man and one woman,” and in 2013 he voted against the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, which protects people from workplace discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity.

But that didn’t stop Reisner and Weiderpass from posing for selfies with the gay-hating politician, or giving him $2,700, the maximum allowed under federal election law.

In case anyone wasn’t paying attention, Hillary Clinton allegedly went to Donald Trump’s last wedding because Trump allegedly gave her a huge donation. That’s politics.

I personally wouldn’t support any anti-gay politicians, but I don’t have all the facts here so I really can’t comment in detail on this one.

You can read the rest here. 

 The Scottish Duke…

Here’s the excerpt, from Chapter 8. I don’t think there are any big spoilers here, but you’ve been warned ahead of time. 

When the news about E. Q. Montana’s connection to Proctor went public, Proctor was setting up Chinese take-out on the kitchen table and Blair was sitting at the table tweeting on his new phone. Constance was next to the table waiting to see if someone would accidentally drop something good to eat. The new puppy had been fed and walked out back and he was resting in the corner on Constance’s cushion.
As Proctor set a container of pork fried rice next to Blair’s dinner plate, he smiled at Snowden and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a calm, easy puppy. I’ve known dogs and cats all my life, but this is unusual even for me. He’s so simple to train, too.” According to Jane, Snowden had only made one mess in the house all day.
Blair sat up and his eyes bugged out. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Proctor sat down at the table and opened the container of rice. “What?”
“You’re trending.”
“I’m what?”
Blair continued to gape at his phone. “You’re trending on twitter. Someone leaked the news that the famous male model, Proctor Gamble, was the muse for most of E. Q. Montana’s gay fiction and that E. Q. was so obsessed with Proctor Gamble his entire apartment was covered with Gamble’s photos. There’s even a fuzzy photo of the apartment.”
Proctor felt a pull in his stomach. He grabbed the phone from Blair and looked at the photo on Twitter. It was the photo of the one long wall in E. Q.’s apartment that had been covered with Proctor’s famous swimsuit poster. “How? Why? This wasn’t supposed to get this kind of attention.”
Blair shrugged and said, “I was hoping it wouldn’t happen.”
Proctor started reading the tweets about how much E. Q. had adored him. There were even links to gossip blogs that went into detail about E. Q. being a female to male transgender person. “I don’t believe this is happening. Who could have leaked this information?”
“I’m not sure,” Blair said. “It was probably someone connected to the police department, because of the photos. But I’m also sure that E. Q’s publisher had something to do with all this going viral. We’re talking about big money now. On his own, E. Q. was a bestselling genre author. With your name attached to his work now that’s going to make his books even more important.”
Proctor didn’t understand. He tilted his head and looked at Blair with a nonplussed expression.
“This is like hitting the jackpot in publishing,” Blair said. “If I’m right about this, and you know I usually am, E. Q’s romance book sales will triple from all the free publicity. It’s not going to hurt you either, especially since E. Q. left you in charge of his estate and all the rights to his books. There’s really nothing negative about it.”
Proctor wasn’t freaked out about being mentioned this way because he’d known what it was like to deal with this kind of media attention in the past. It wasn’t negative publicity either. In this case, he just wasn’t sure how to deal with being so closely connected to an author who had worshipped him from afar. It still made him feel creepy whenever he thought about E. Q. sitting alone in that dark, depressing apartment, staring at his images and writing love stories.
Proctor stood up and went to the other side of the kitchen to get his own phone.
“What are you doing?” Blair asked.
“I’m going to call my mom and dad,” Proctor said. “If this is trending on twitter there’s no doubt it will be in the mainstream news, too, at some point. I want them to know what’s going on beforehand so they don’t freak out just in case.” His mother was going through enough issues dealing with terminal cancer and palliative cancer treatments that would extend her life a little longer. He wanted to reassure them everything was fine and there was nothing about which to worry.
A few minutes later, he hung up with his dad and went back to the table where he found Blair eating fried won-tons with chop sticks. “I can’t believe you can eat.” He sat down and pushed his plate to the middle of the table. “I can’t even look at food now.”
Blair swallowed and said, “I’ll admit all this is unusual to say the least, however, it could be good for business. We were talking about getting publicity for the agency and this might be just what we were looking for. I know how you feel about self-exploitation, but life does go on and we didn’t bring this on ourselves.”
Although he knew Blair was right, he still didn’t feel comfortable yet with all this unplanned publicity. He thought he had left this kind of attention behind and that he would remain in the public eye on a much smaller scale for the rest of his life. “I hope it doesn’t hurt the agency,” he said. “I want The Rainbow Detective Agency to be a professional place of business. I don’t want it to be a media circus connected to a peculiar author who hung my old photos all over his apartment.”
“I thought you were flattered by the way E. Q. adored you so much,” Blair said.
“Don’t be cheeky,” Proctor said. “To be truthful, I am flattered. I’m more than flattered. I’m honored that an author who was as talented as E. Q. would choose me as his focus. And I know that this kind of thing won’t last long. The next new trend will come along and some idiotic reality TV show star will try to break the Internet with her ass again. However, I also know how the world can be. I’m an openly gay man and I still get a slap in the face every single day in one way or another. You can’t tell me you don’t get that yourself, Blair. And when the vicious and the sarcastic start making comments about this I don’t want the agency to suffer as a result.”
Blair didn’t make a silly comment this time. He seemed to understand Proctor’s feelings and he reached across the table and took his hand. “Hey, we’ll get through this. We’ll be okay.”
Before Proctor had a chance to reply, the doorbell rang and he looked at the clock on the wall above the table. “It’s almost nine o’clock. Who could that be?”
“I’ll get it,” Blair said. “You stay in here.”
A moment later, while Proctor was clearing the table, Blair walked into the kitchen with Howard Stumpf.  Proctor exchanged a quick glance with Blair and said, “Howard, I didn’t expect to see you again this soon.”
“I had to come by,” Howard said. Instead of the conservative business suit he’d worn the first time Proctor had met him, he was wearing jeans, a white polo shirt, and a pair of navy blue leather oxfords without socks. The white shirt accentuated the reddish brown tones in his thick hair and beard. He looked even more like a quasi hipster with good taste than a school teacher.
Proctor wanted to finish cleaning up the kitchen so he turned to Blair and said, “Why don’t you guys go into the living room and I’ll be there in a minute.” He also wanted to take Snowden outside one more time. Snowden had jumped off the cushion to check Howard out and Proctor wanted to continue the puppy training that Jane had started that day. Constance seemed oblivious to Howard. She took one look at him, yawned, and went back to the cushion.
By the time Proctor joined Blair and Howard in the living room, Blair had started a fire and he and Howard were sitting on the sofa drinking martinis. The moment Proctor walked into the room Howard stood up and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had to stop by and talk about everything that’s happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Proctor said. When he said this, he smiled. He didn’t want Howard to think he was being abrupt or glib.
“I think you should listen to him,” Blair said. Evidently, Howard had already talked over a few things with Blair. “The guy might make you feel a lot better.”
Proctor saw a third martini on the coffee table he assumed was for him. He picked it up and sat in a club chair next to the fireplace and smiled again. “I’m sure you heard about the big news,” he said. 
“The entire world now knows that E. Q. Montana based most of his main characters on me.”


Can You Be Addicted to a Person? FREE Gay Book Excerpt; The Great Gay Movie; Boyfriend Experiment in Russia

Can You Be Addicted to a Person?

Yesterday on Twitter I saw someone mention something about being addicted to a person. I’m sure it was in jest, however, it made me stop and think if it’s actually possible to be addicted to a person. I know people who are co-dependent. I think every married couple has a tendency to become that way over time. A family member was with his partner for almost 20 years and then they broke up but still remain business associates…a kind of co-dependency. But can you become *addicted* to a person?

I’m not sure that’s possible. I follow people regularly on social media because I’ve either formed a bond with them, I respect them, they make me laugh, or just because there’s something about them I really like. Sometimes they inspire me and they become muses. Especially on Twitter where you find yourself interacting with the same people who follow the same people. Maybe that’s an addiction…or a form of addiction. Again, I’m not sure. In almost every single case it’s more about respect and admiration. It’s not even fandom. I think fandom is a completely different thing.

The reason I’m getting into this right now is because in the fifth book in The Rainbow Detective series, The Scottish Duke, one of the characters becomes “obsessed” with Proctor Gamble, (Proctor is one of the main characters in the series), and as the book progresses it becomes apparent this was not as much obsession as it was admiration, love, and great respect. I don’t want to go any deeper because I would be dropping spoilers if I did. I just think it’s interesting to speculate about whether or not we can actually become addicted to people…or not. I did a simple search and some think it is possible.

In any event, I’ve posted a free unpublished excerpt below from The Scottish Duke, where I get into the “obsession” part…that really isn’t an obsession. It’s a 45,000 word novel and I’ll post more when I get closer to a release date. The first four books in the series are also being sold in a box set on Amazon and they are free with KU. Link, below.

The Great Gay Movie

This is being dubbed in some places as what could be “The Great Gay Movie.” I’ve been reading about it for a while now and I’m curious. I agree to a certain extent with The Great Gay Movie part. I’ve seen a lot of good ones, but none I can call great…yet. It stars Julianne Moore.

With the impending release of Freeheld, a fact-based story about New Jersey police detective Laurel Hester (Moore) who is stricken with terminal lung cancer and tries to secure her pension for her partner (Ellen Page), an auto mechanic, before she dies. As an attorney who represents the couple, Steve Carrell looks to have found a role that combines his singular brand of comedy (The Office) with his capacity for hard-hitting drama (Foxcatcher earned him an Oscar nod earlier this year).

I don’t know about great, but it sounds good. I like films like this set in New Jersey, partly because I’m from New Jersey and partly because it shows people that New Jersey is NOTHING like that reality show, The Jersey Shore The rest is here.

Boyfriend Experiment in Russia

I missed this one somehow. There was an experiment in Russia where two gay men walked around holding hands in public. It was filmed with a hidden camera. The results will make you wonder why people like Robbie Roberts still want to go there and support anything related to Russia.

A hidden camera captured an unyielding barrage of insults, slurs, skunk-eyed stares, and physical intimidation, culminating in one extremely tense confrontation.

To shed light on the reality of LGBT life in other hostile areas, Bird in Flight magazine decided to repeat the exercise in Kiev, Ukraine.

Things really didn’t go so well.

A group of neo-nazis or extreme-right men approaches the couple, asking them if they are patriots and getting aggressive.

You can read more here.  This is why I’m so adamant about NOT supporting Russia in anything. LGBT people in Russia deserve the same kind of support the US has given to people in other countries for treatment like this.

Free Gay Book Excerpt

After Proctor started his BMW, he entered the address where the detective wanted to meet him in West Hollywood in the GPS system. He knew he’d forget it if he didn’t. It was a part of town with which he wasn’t familiar and he’d never been to that particular apartment complex. In fact, there were many sections of Los Angeles with which Proctor had never been familiar because he’d moved to the west coast after he’d become a success. He knew the Hollywood Hills, he knew Holmby Hills, and he could find his way around Beverly Hills with a blindfold, but he’d never really become familiar with sections of the city like West Hollywood. He usually depended on Blair for things like this. Although Blair wasn’t as familiar with Beverly Hills, he knew every last section of Los Angeles, from the docks to the smallest fish taco joint in West Hollywood.
His GPS led him to a dingy white stucco apartment complex that looked as if it had been built in the 1960’s. It was the kind of place where someone either started out or wound up, a building where a young transient dreamer trying to break into show business would live with two or three roommates, or an older soul on government assistance who had discovered that most dreams don’t come true after all. The way the unkempt curtains and old blinds hung lop-sided in the windows gave Proctor an empty feeling in his gut. All the front doors were this hideous shade of dark orange, the trim around each window in bright green, and the chain link fence surrounding the pool had rusted over in most places and no one seemed eager to keep it up. After Proctor’s manager had run off with all his money and left him with practically nothing, this apartment complex was the worst of Proctor’s nightmares and why he was still so determined to make The Rainbow Detective Agency work.
When he spotted the number of the apartment the detective had given him at the back end of the complex, he pulled into a parking space not far from the door and climbed out of the car. He glanced around and saw no one; just more dirty windows with bad blinds and crooked curtains, flanked by that awful bright green trim that reminded him of a cheap swimsuit he’d once worn for a lesser known designer. The same designer had been asking Proctor to model again and he’d been thinking about it seriously. Proctor still worked out and had the body of a man in his twenties, the cheap swimsuit line actually did get a great deal of exposure, and they were willing to pay him quite a bit of money. He’d told them he would think about it and get back, and he knew he had to do that soon.
He walked up to the orange door and knocked. A second or two later, a tall man with dark hair wearing a navy sport jacket and light slacks opened the door and looked Proctor up and down. As the man stared at him in the most unusual way, Proctor squared his back and said, “I’m Proctor Gamble. Are you Detective Schechter?”
“Ah, yes,” the detective said. He stepped to the right so Proctor could enter. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice.”
As Proctor entered and looked around, he found a forensic team examining various sections of the small apartment. Then he blinked and pressed his palm to his throat. When he saw his own image plastered on every single wall, everywhere he looked, he felt a chill throughout his entire body.
At first, he remained speechless, gaping at his own likeness, some photos splattered with blood. Then he took a breath and said, “I don’t understand. What is all this?”
Detective Schechter escorted him to the other side of the small room, where a broken down table had been set up as a makeshift desk. On the table Proctor noticed an old fashioned desktop computer, with a huge monitor, a keyboard so old most of the letters weren’t visible anymore, and an eight by ten framed photo of Proctor when he’d done a headshot for publicity about ten years ago.
“I was hoping you’d know more about this,” Detective Schechter said. “Have you ever been here before?”
Proctor couldn’t wait to get out of there. If there was any truth to the old saying “someone just walked cross my grave,” he now knew what it was like to experience that. “Of course I’ve never been here before. Why on earth would I come here? I don’t even know what all this is about.”
Detective Schechter sent him a long, serious glance and leaned against a counter next to the makeshift desk. “I’m investigating the death of a best-selling writer known as E. Q. Montana. His real name was Elizabeth Stumpf. E. Q. wrote gay romance, with a pen name, and it seems that he based most of his characters on you.”
Proctor’s head started to pound. “He? I thought you said her name was Elizabeth.”

The Rainbow Detective Agency

Box Set

Four books in One


Peter Berg Slams Caitlyn Jenner; The Duggars Are Canceled; FREE Gay Excerpt

Peter Berg Slams Caitlyn Jenner

I think because I’ve known so many trans people in my lifetime this kind of thing bothers me a little less each time I hear it…only because I’ve heard all this negativity before and I’m just not sensitized to it anymore.

Actor/Director Peter Berg recently made comments on social media about Caitlyn that have many people both repulsed and resigned to the fact that ignorance and bigotry still exists.

Peter Berg posted an atrocious meme on Instagram that juxtaposes Jenner alongside a picture of double amputee war veteran Gregory D. Gadson, with the caption: “One man traded 2 legs for the freedom of the other to trade 2 balls for 2 boobs. Guess which man made the cover of Vanity Fair, was praised for his courage by President Obama and is to be honored with the ‘Arthur Ashe Courage Award’ by ESPN?”

You can read the rest here…he did post an apology on instagram.  But it’s that Ariana Grande kind of apology that falls short in sincerity. In other words, he didn’t just come out and say “I’m a fucking douche. I’m sorry for that.”

While there’s no way possible to ever thank and praise veteran, Gregory D. Gadson, enough for his bravery and what he did for the US, not to mention the sacrifices he made, I don’t think it’s fair to fault Jenner for going public the way she did. I never, ever take either situation lightly and I’m in awe of both Jenner and Gadson.

The Duggars Are Canceled

The Duggars have/had that reality TV show, 19 Kids and Counting. They’ve always been anti-gay, and without apology. I didn’t mind them too much and I never paid much attention to them. They are what they are. However, they also have a history of sex abuse within the family.

The cancelation comes after it was revealed that the Duggars eldest song, Josh, has a history of molesting little girls, including two of his own sisters. The 27-year-old former executive director of the antigay Family Research Council Action admitted to forcibly fondling his sisters 12 years ago in a statement released back in May.


“After thoughtful consideration, TLC and the Duggar family have decided to not move forward with 19 Kids and Counting,” the network said in a statement released earlier today. “The show will no longer appear on the air.”

I can’t help but think about how much this reminds me of the Pope and the Catholic Church. While they slam gays and try to block equal rights whenever they can, they’ve all got more than their fair share of skeletons in their own closets.

You can check this out here.  

Free Gay Excerpt: The Rainbow Detective Agency: The Scottish Duke

Here’s an excerpt from the most recent book in the Rainbow Detective series, The Scottish Duke Book Five. It hasn’t been published yet, but I thought I’d post the prologue.

This book is a stand alone and it has a lot of different elements I don’t usually get into. One, there’s a transgender character. I can’t go into detail about that without giving spoilers. Two, I get into the topic of writers writing gay fiction, pen names, fake identities, and how competitive it can sometimes become. In fact, the entire mystery revolves around a character who writes gay romance and will stop at nothing to become a best seller in the genre. I can’t go into detail there either because of spoilers.

In a small, dark studio apartment located in a quiet section of West Hollywood, the vinyl floors were ripped and cracked and the venetian blinds hung gray with age. The stove-top was littered with old magazines and the toilet in the only bathroom didn’t have a seat. There was nothing extraordinary about the apartment other than this: the walls were lined with images of Proctor Gamble. 
Every wall, not just one. It wasn’t even possible to see a hint of the drab gray paint showing through.
There were photos of Proctor as a young male model in swimsuits and photos of portraits that had been painted of him by pop culture artists. In some of the photos, Proctor wore designer business suits from the 1990’s and in others he wore sleek leather jackets with faded jeans. There were full body images, close ups of Proctor’s face, and there was even one rare magazine photo of him posing in his home with his Bengal cat, Constance. The newer photos were from newspaper clippings where he’d been mentioned as the owner of The Rainbow Detective Agency. Stippled in between them, were selfies Proctor had posted on social media that had been printed on flimsy white paper.
However, the centerpiece of this obsession was on the longest wall in the apartment. This wall was lined from floor to ceiling, one over-lapping the other, with the infamous poster of Proctor Gamble in a swimsuit. Even the one window on that wall had been covered up with the swimsuit poster.
This was the swimsuit photo of Proctor that had turned him into a pop culture icon and made his career as a world famous male model. At the time he’d posed for it, the men’s swimwear company that had hired him had placed him on a billboard in Times Square. Back then no one thought much of it. They all thought it was just another swimsuit campaign that would come and go like all the rest, including Proctor.
For some reason the swimsuit photo resonated with millions of people and Proctor’s entire life changed suddenly overnight. He was asked to do morning news shows, was featured on talk shows, and became one of the world’s highest paid male models and a pop culture celebrity without even trying too hard.
After that, millions of people fell in love with Proctor Gamble, including the middle aged man who rented the small studio apartment in West Hollywood that smelled like a swamp and was filled with images of Proctor. At a glance, there was nothing special about this man other than the fact that his apartment was covered with photos of Proctor. He had short brown hair, a medium build, and stood almost six feet tall. He had unusually small hands and feet. When he was dressed he wore dad jeans and plain white or checked short sleeve shirts, and always with sneakers and black socks from a discount store. He had no pets, no family, and no friends. If a stranger had walked into his apartment and taken one quick glance at the walls, the stranger would have gaped at him and wondered if there was something wrong.
When the guy was home alone he never put on clothes. He enjoyed exposing his sagging chest and his slight paunch to the perfect images of Proctor that followed him everywhere he went in the apartment. Sometimes he would stand in one spot staring at them for no particular reason. Other times he would smile and make faces at them, as if expecting Proctor’s photos to reply to him.
On a warm morning in the early part of a quiet week, a gun went off in the apartment and the man’s eyes grew wider. A second after that, the naked man fell and landed on his back. He’d been facing the longest wall, the one covered with the famous swimsuit posters of Proctor. As the naked man glanced up at the wall, he noticed a large splash of blood on Proctor’s face, and then saw spots of fresh blood on the posters surrounding that one.
He took one quick breath and gasped.
His body shuddered a few times and his eyes opened a little wider.
Before he closed his eyes for the last time, he smiled when he saw Proctor Gamble’s image looking down at him, as if he’d finally seen the face of God.

The Rainbow Detective Agency
Box Set
Four books in One

"Days of Love" Library of Congress Event; Another Brokeback Mountain; Straight Men Caught on Grindr; Free Gay Excerpt: Meadows Are Not Forever

Days of Love Library of Congress Event

2014 will go down as an “interesting” year for me for many reasons. After 22 years of being with the same person and living as if we were married, Tony and I were finally allowed to legally wed last January…in Vermont, and by a Vermont Supreme Court Justice, Beth Robinson. To add to the romance of being in Montgomeryville Center, VT, we were also part of a Hollywood documentary, The State of Marriage. I’ve posted about all that here a few times. 

Also in 2014, Tony and I had several intense family health related issues we had to deal with. I rarely post things that private in public when they first happen. I usually do eventually, but in the beginning I think it’s important to protect certain aspects of our private lives…all of us who are online, not just me.

While Tony and I were going through all this Elisa Rolle, whom I’ve met in person, was e-mailing me about a book titled Days of Love that would focus on gay couples, gay marriage, and long term gay relationships. There was so much going on at the time with family I almost didn’t participate. However, something told me this would be a book to remember someday. From a historical POV, this book would be something people could look back and reflect upon during the days when we were still fighting for legalized same sex marriage all over the world. So I put together everything Elisa asked for, I submitted it, and went back to dealing with life.

When I saw this in my inbox today I felt a sense of gratification, and it was a surprise I hadn’t expected. 
Just in case any of you are in Washington on that date!

This talk will encompass LOC’s acquisitions of Sylvester & Orphanos Publication Archives, of Stathis’s Christopher Isherwood Collection and his photographs. And Stathis told me Days of Love, which proudly display some of those photographs, will be featured as well.

It’s a great book that I believe will be around for a long time. And to be honored this way, in a book, for everyone who participated, as well as Elisa Rolle who put it together, it is a proud humble moment, indeed.

Another Brokeback Mountain

Apparently, one Brokeback Mountain in a lifetime wasn’t enough so now there’s going to be another type of film just like BM, with a dark storyline that exploits all the most depressing aspects of gay culture. This is the blurb that was released:

The project is based upon the true story of Oregonian father-and-son Joe and Jadin Bell. Jadin, a fifteen-year-old openly gay sophomore, took his own life after being both bullied at high school and struggling for acceptance from the people closest to him. In the wake of Jadin’s suicide, Joe is plunged into a sea of remorse and regret. Attempting to work through his grief, Joe sets out on a walk across America, hoping to promote awareness about the consequences of prejudice to anyone he encounters along the way.

So far the details are sketchy. The article I’m linking to only mentions the writers and the producer of the original BM…all people coming from a place of privilege. However, the people who commented on this news made some interesting statements. It’s a gay press; I’m assuming they come from gay people.

One said:

Brokeback Mountain was absolute rubbish!

Another said this:

These films are marketed towards straight people, I’m tired of ambiguous endings, HIV and death at the end. Gay films almost never have a happy ending.

And when I posted about this on social media last night one gay male author commented about why gay fiction written by gay people is never treated as seriously as films like BM.

I have no comment at all until I know more details about it, but I’d be willing to bet there won’t be a happy ending 🙂  You can read the rest here. 

Straight Men Caught on Grindr

This is about what happens when straight men get caught on Grindr…well sort of.

Gaybriel, dressed in a flamboyant pink shirt and sunglasses, and two bikini-clad beauties teamed up to trick the guys. The ladies would go down the beach and flirt with the gents, collecting as much information about them as possible before radioing it back to Gaybriel, who was waiting up the beach. When the guys eventually passed by, he would rush over pretending to recognize them from Grindr. Hilarity (and some awkwardness) ensued.

There’s more here, with a video. For those of you who think this is in bad taste, tricking the straight guys that way. Too damn bad. Get over yourselves. When I first started going out to gay bars in college, I pulled into the parking lot of a gay club one night and there were straight frat guys standing around a guy with a blindfold over his eyes. They’d brought the guy there to trick him into going to a gay bar. These “dudes” and “bros” thought it was hilarious, a gay bar and laughing at gays. And now I think this shit is just as hilarious.
Free Gay Except: Meadows Are Not Forever

(There is a happy ending to this story, a VERY happy ending) 

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            When they called his name, Cade was one of ten people left in the room. They’d collected the information sheets at the back of the room first and those up front wound up waiting all day. It was late and Cade’s feet were killing him; he had a sharp pain in the middle of his forehead. The pain was partly caused by his mother. He’d had to call her and let her know he’d be home later than he’d expected. He felt like he’d jumped right back into high school, when he’d had to call in and let his mother know everything he was doing. But he had her car; he had to let her know where he was. He could have lived without her harping about traffic, wearing his seat belt, and not talking to strangers. He was twenty-five, he’d been on his own supporting himself in Los Angeles for seven years, and she still treated him as though he were ten years old. If he’d been under less pressure he might have enjoyed the attention. It had been a long time since anyone had cared that much about him. But after what had happened in the men’s room, all he wanted to do was get this audition over with as fast as possible.

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                 He crossed into a smaller room and sat down on a folding chair that faced a long narrow table. The two guys in saggy pants he’d seen earlier that day were sitting on the ends of the table. Anderson Randolph sat between them. They didn’t look up when Cade entered. They were huddled together, conferring about something in hushed voices. At this angle, with the light hitting Anderson’s profile from the side, Cade couldn’t help notice how attractive he was. His short brown hair was shiny and a little messy on top. His tanned skin took on a slightly bronze appeal in this light. Cade guessed he was between thirty and forty; it was hard to tell nowadays because so many gay men didn’t seem to age until the last minute. (Cade had an older friend who’d once said, “I’d know them for years and they’d look exactly the same. Then one day they’d show up at my door and they’d be old men.”)
            Anderson’s body wasn’t bulky and outrageous, but there were definite signs of muscle definition showing through his tight black V-neck shirt. Although he wasn’t the rough, athletic type that usually made Cade’s mouth water, he had an aggressive, understated masculine appeal that made Cade stop and wonder what he might be like in the sack.
            When the three of them finally looked up at Cade, they each asked him a round of basic questions almost as if this was an interview for a regular job, not an audition for a reality show. They wanted to know where he lived full time, if he’d be available for travel at a moment’s notice, and if he really was single. The guy on the right with curly brown hair said they didn’t want any fakes…guys with boyfriends who were pretending to be single just to get on to the show. He also stated that if Cade was selected they would do in-depth background checks. So if there were any surprises in Cade’s past, it was best to be honest now. 

               The guy on the left asked, “Have you ever modeled or been filmed in the nude? Have you done anything professionally in the adult entertainment industry?”
            Cade gulped. He couldn’t lie. He squared his back and said, “I’ve never modeled in the nude and I’ve never done any porn films professionally. But I do work for a web site in the valley that’s considered all male entertainment. It’s called, and I’m the production assistant.” He was surprised at how good he felt after he told them the truth. Cade didn’t have anything to hide. He didn’t count the scene he’d done with the guys because he knew his face would never be shown in public. He worked hard and did a good job for an honest day’s pay. And if they didn’t like what he did, and they judged what he did, he decided he wouldn’t want to work with them either. 

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              After he told them this, the two guys on the end leaned in toward Anderson and they whispered to each other for a few seconds. They glanced back and forth at Cade a few times; they remained expressionless.
            Then the guy on the right asked, “Have you ever actually performed for this web site?”
            Cade couldn’t lie about that either. “Once,” he said. “But no one saw my face. The only shots the camera took were rear lower body shots, no head shots. I only filled in for an actor who didn’t bother to show up for work that day. My job has always been behind the scenes, not in front of the camera. And I’ve never used my real name. In other words, if you did a search for me on the internet, you’d come up with nothing.” 

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            They started whispering again, sending him quick glances, looking him up and down. Cade sat back and exhaled. He even smiled and extended his right leg. Anderson Randolph hadn’t asked him many questions: he seemed to be sitting back and evaluating with his tongue pressed to his cheek. Evidently, Anderson didn’t remember Cade or the cupcake incident from the airport. If he had, Cade figured he would have said something right away. For the first time that day, Cade felt so relaxed he fought the urge to yawn. All that worrying about being recognized had been for nothing.

             When they stopped whispering and turned to face him, there was a knock on the door. The guy on the right said, “Come in,” and a young woman entered the room carrying a small tray of large chocolate cupcakes. There must have been a mound of rich fudge frosting on top about three inches deep, set in perfect ridged swirls to form peaks. And each one had been topped with an expensive truffle.
            Unfortunately, the young woman didn’t notice that Cade had become so relaxed he’d stretched out his right leg. And when she entered the room with the tray of chocolate cupcakes, she tripped over his right foot. She caught her balance just in time and didn’t fall down. But the cupcake tray jerked and a half dozen chocolate cupcakes went sailing across the room toward the three men at the long table. 

             The guys on the end saw them coming and ducted just in time. But Anderson Randolph had been looking down at a stack of papers on the table he he’d missed the fall. Three cupcakes landed on the floor; two upside down on the table. And one lone cupcake flew across the table and landed right between Anderson Randolph’s legs.
            The two guys started laughing.
            The young woman apologized and bent over to retrieve the ruined cupcakes on the floor.
            Cade sat up straight and held his palm to his throat as Anderson reached down between his legs and slowly lifted the upside down cupcake from his crotch. 

            Anderson held the cupcake up and stopped moving for a second. His eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought and he tilted his head sideways. A minute later, he flung a glance in Cade’s direction. His eyes opened wide; his lips parted. He pointed at Cade and said, “You’re the cell phone guy from the airport. I knew I’d seen you before somewhere.”