The post-apocalyptic world has changed. Colors have changed.
The skies are now red, and the seas fandango pink.
There are those who’ve acquired skills as “squinters”. By narrowing their eyes, they can see people in different colors—colors by which they can define their mood.
Senlin was born a squinter. A child of the foster system, the lack of love has left him with casual views on sex.
When Sicong recruits him into SQX, a squinter organization, Senlin wants nothing more than to jump his bones, but Sicong’s detachment makes Senlin believe his feelings aren’t reciprocated.
Senlin and Sicong’s relationship begins to grow as they undertake missions together.
That is, until an enemy of SQX turns his attention upon them.
SIC HELD MY head in his lap. I looked up and saw, against the backdrop of the cardinal red sky, his angular face looking down at me. We were secluded by teal-colored woods around us. It was chaotic, for the forest was on fire, its color black and blue blending with red and teal. Despite the turmoil and the utter pain in my chest, I felt peaceful, as if all sounds had been erased except my shallow breathing
“Don’t fall asleep, Sen,” he said to me, both commanding and begging. “Don’t.
I lifted a corner of my mouth. I was too tired to talk.
Amidst all the distractions, I saw Sic squint his right eye. A subtle one; one he probably thought I wouldn’t notice.
I also squinted. Sic turned lime green when I did that, all over. I smiled because it was lime instead of tangerine or blue. I was sure I appeared the same to him.
It was a good day, regardless of the pain in my chest.
Book Trailer
About the author
Growing up in China, KEVIN CAUCHER never thought he’d grow up loving to write; never did he expect himself ending up in Australia either. He is now happily partnered in NSW Illawarra area and writing.
Kevin’s writing is mainly influenced by his growing up as a gay Chinese; he also sometimes pops out totally random stories that has nothing to do with his growing up.
When a drunken dare sees Mason Stubbs roaming lost in the Australian outback, he expects to perish under the desert sun. But then along comes trucker Jackson Cooper, intent on making his delivery to Alice Springs on time. The pair may not see eye to eye at first, but they’ll have to adjust to each other’s company. After all, there’s nothing but kangaroos for the next 200km.
Excerpt
Mason paused again and licked his lips. They were dry, as was his throat, but, fool that he was, he’d taken nothing with him when he left the tent. By some stroke of luck, he was wearing his hiking boots; even if they were paired with pajamas. Fuck. He was screwed.
At first he’d thought they’d find him in no time. Surely Alan and Paul had raised the alarm and the group was out looking for him? It had to be hours since he’d left, though, and so far no one had come to the rescue.
He sank to the ground, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his head on his knees. He was going to die out here. It would probably make the papers back home: “Twenty-One-Year-Old Brit Found Dead in Australian Bush.” The tabloids would be sympathetic. They’d interview his friends and concentrate on the tragic loss of one so young. Perhaps they’d even find some scandalous Facebook photo to plaster on the front page.
The less sleazy publications would take a harder line and talk of his stupidity and how he’d brought it on himself. They’d leave his friends alone and talk to his high school teachers, who would comment on his lack of discipline in class and how they’d always feared he’d come to a bad end.
He supposed the only plus was that he’d resisted Alan’s attempts to fill his backpack with sequined dresses and high heels. The tabloids would have lapped that up. The other papers would have doubtless interviewed some psychiatrists alongside his teachers.
A moment later, the loud blast of a horn filled the air, cutting off all reveries on his upcoming infamous demise.
Author Bio & Links
Asta Idonea (aka Nicki J Markus) was born in England, but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.
Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only between MM and mainstream works but also between traditional and indie publishing. Her works span the genres, from paranormal to historical and from contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring into her mind!
Author Name: Lisa Oliver Book Name: The Artist and His Alpha
Series: The Alpha and Omega Series
Book: ThreeEach book is a self-contained story and can be read as a standalone. Release Date: January 29, 2016 Pages or Words: 65,900 words Categories: Erotica, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Paranormal, Romance, Wolf shifters, True Mates, Alpha and Omega Publisher: Oliver Group Publications Cover Artist: Lisa Oliver
Blurb:Caden Wolfe lives his life hiding from the world. As an Omega with a brute of an Alpha looking for him, he can’t afford to take any chances. He is happy enough with his art, his one good friend Felix and his agent who adores his paintings. It’s a far cry from life on the streets and Caden is determined to keep working hard, and stay out of the spotlight.
Staying away from all things wolf is easy enough in the city, until he meets the one man with the potential to blow his cover and his way of life, out of the water.
Sean Black has it all – a brother for pack, a home pack that is still supportive but far enough away not to interfere with his daily life, a good business, and men who clamor for his attention every night of the week. The last thing he wants or needs is a mate, but after a brief meeting with a gorgeous artist, he realizes his life will change, and not necessarily in a good way.
A misunderstanding leads to danger for Caden and Sean has to make a choice. Can he give his Omega what he needs, or should he make sure he’s protected and then walk away?
A rogue Alpha with an agenda of his own, a trap, and trouble from the council are just a few of the things this couple will have to contend with if they are ever to have their HEA.
This week's prompt is to have a character listen to birds. Castien does just that and they help him finally find his balls
As the door
closes on Tian, I turn on Jandra.
“What’s going
on?”
Jandra smirks
and I hate her. The only thing that stops me slapping it from her face is the
knowledge that she is stronger than I, and would overcome me easily.
“Sit down
dear. Would you like to play chess? That always calm you.”
“I don’t want
to calm, Mother. I’m sick of being kept in the dark all the time. No one ever
tells me anything.”
“Stop being
such a child, Castien. No one’s interested in your tantrums.”
I have never
wanted so much to hit her. “It’s not a tantrum. I’m crown prince and Tian is my
betrothed. I have the right to know what’s going on.” I struggle hard to keep
my voice level and my anger under control. The last thing I want is to be
treated like a child, and both these women seem to have an inherent ability to
do so without even trying.
“Tian is my
betrothed. I’ve had precious little time to come to terms with what that
actually means. The last thing I need is secrets. I know something’s going on
and I need to know what it is.”
“You need to
know nothing.”
“So you say.
Holy Mother!” There’s no point in arguing with her but it sets my teeth on
edge. I stride over to the window and lean against the frame. A lemon tree sits
outside the window, filling the room with the scent of citrus. Bright birds
perch on the branches and their song soothes me. I envy them. They are free to
fly wherever they will. They are not bound with bonds of propriety and
tradition as am I. No one stops them loving as they will or bans them from
gatherings.
One bird in
particular catches my eye. Its plumage is brightly coloured and its song
particularly sweet. Yet the other birds appear to be avoiding it. In fact, most
of them edge away then fly off with fluting cries of warning. Why is this bird
so shunned by its fellows? I feel immediate affinity.
The bird
extends its wings and shakes its feathers. One or two fall and spiral to the
ground in a slow dance of brilliant light. A strange call draws my attention
back to the bird. It’s answered from above and I gaze aloft to see another bird
of the same kind dancing overhead. ‘My’ bird launches from the branch with a
cry of pure joy and I follow with my eyes as the birds meet in an explosion of
light that sends sparks falling like rain.
“Firebirds,” I
breathe as the blazing dance continues. The birds rise higher until it’s
impossible to see them.
My mother and
sister stand with me, watching the amazing sight. Just as I wonder if I can
bear the brightness there is an explosion of fireworks and streaks of fire as
the birds head off in opposite directions.
I have always
found it sad that firebirds must live alone so much of their lives. Other birds
fear them and their own kind avoid them lest they both combust. Only twice a
year do they come together in their mating dance. It’s no wonder they are so
lonely. Will Tian and I set the sky on fire? Will it keep us apart?
“No.”
“No what?”
Jandra askes in a long–suffering tone.
“No one
will keep us apart, no matter how bright we burn.”
“You make
no sense,” Jandra says.
“You have
never understood me.”
Gritting my
teeth, I turn and stride for the door, knowing she will follow.
“Where are
you going?”
“To the
Council Chamber.”
“That’s not
going to happen. You know that.”
She takes
me by my arm.
“Take you
hand off me.”
Jandra
seems surprised by the tone of my voice. I have to say, I’m surprised myself. I
wasn’t intending to be so cold. I’m calmer than I could ever have thought, and
more single minded than I have ever been. No more tantrums. No more arguments.
I am crown price and it’s time I started acting like it.
“No way.
Trust me, little brother, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Take your
hand off me.” For once I am able to meet Jandra’s gaze. She is as large and as
fierce as she ever was, but I’m no longer intimidated. What can she do to me,
after all? We’re not children anymore.
“When you
get over this tantrum and see sense.”
“Castien,
dear, why don’t you come and sit down?”
“I’m sorry,
Mother, but I don’t have time to sit with you right now. I have business to
attend to.”
“Yes,
right. Your business it to sit down and behave yourself,” Jandra snarls.
“I will
tell you one more time to take your hand off me, or I will call the guards. As
I understand, it is treason for anyone – including you – to lay hands on me. I
wouldn’t wish to see you in a cell, but if I must….”
“Don’t be
ridiculous. No one is going to throw me in a cell for this. Don’t get ideas
above yourself, little brother.”
It gives me
no pleasure to call the guards, but call I do. They respond immediately. “The
Lady Jandra had laid hands on me. As your Prince I demand you immediately
intervene to prevent this assault on my body.”
These are
all members of my own personal guard and I cannot deny it gives me a kick to
watch them take Jandra by the shoulders and move her away from me, tearing her
hand from my arm.
“Castien,
think what you are doing. You’re not a child anymore.”
“No, I’m
not, and it’s about time I acted like a man. Hold her here. If she tries to
leave take to the cells.”
She calls
after me as I sweep from the room flanked by my bodyguard. Did I hear him
mutter, “about bloody time”?”
Next week sparks will fly, but in the meantime check out the other flashers
Series: PerspectivesBook: ThreeCan be read as a standalone
Release Date: April 19, 2016 Pages or Words: 253 pages Also available in audiobook format with Guy Locke as the narrator Categories: Contemporary, Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance Blurb:
While most of his friends have moved on to “real” careers, Jon Buchanan is content skating through life as a part-time waiter and gay porn star. Firmly single thanks to a previous relationship disaster, he focuses his spare time on Henry, a dear friend dying of cancer.
And with Henry’s happiness paramount, Jon is on a mission to help Henry meet his recently discovered grandson.
Isaac Gregory hasn’t set foot outside for the past year. He has everything he needs delivered, and his remaining family knows better than to visit. When a complete stranger shows up claiming to be his grandfather—with a distractingly handsome younger man in tow—his carefully structured routines are shaken.
Despite his instant attraction, Jon senses Isaac is too fragile for a relationship. Yet tentative friendship grows into genuine companionship. And when Henry’s health begins to fail, they realize Fate brought them together for a reason. Excerpt:
Jon studied him, his gaze taking in…something. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.” His chest flushed with anticipation.
“How do you feel when you’re with me?”
Isaac tried to push aside the anxiety still attempting to blur his thoughts, an old friend that wanted to be part of the conversation. Only anxiety wasn’t allowed in, not this time. He shuffled through different words, emotions and adjectives, searching for the one that best described how he felt about Jon. How Jon made him feel, despite being a near-stranger, bigger, stronger and far more experienced in pretty much everything. Jon still made him feel… “Safe,” Isaac said.
Jon’s eyebrows crept up. The corners of his mouth quirked into something not quite a smile. “Really?”
“Yes. The first time I saw you on my security feed, I noticed how beautiful you were.”
His cheeks warmed.
Jon flat out grinned. “Yeah?”
“You’re kind and patient, and I feel safe because you don’t try to fix me, and you don’t act like I’m broken. My family thinks I’m broken, and I don’t want them to fix me. I just…” Something in Isaac shifted, accepting this new truth. “I need to feel safe, Jon. That’s why I hide. But you make me not want to hide.”
Jon’s eyes glittered. His expression melted into something so warm, so sweet, that it burned in Isaac’s blood in a way he didn’t understand at all. The strange sensation urged him to reach out, to initiate contact of some kind. Deep-rooted fear kept Isaac still, unable to make that first move. Unable to do anything except soak in the wonderment on Jon’s face.
“I think that’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever gotten,” Jon said. His voice was hoarse, strange. Almost difficult to hear, so Isaac paid more attention to his lips. “Is it cheesy to say your strength makes me want to be better too?”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m not strong.”
“You’re stronger than you think. You proved that by letting me and Henry in two weeks ago. You proved it again by going out to rescue a kitten. Twice, by the way. You told me you want to get better, get into the world, and that takes a fuck-ton of courage when you’ve lost as much as you have. I know it won’t be easy, but I still want to help you do that.”
Meet the author:
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop.
She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories.
A.M. Arthur's work is available from Samhain Publishing, Carina Press, Dreamspinner Press, and SMP Swerve.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder.
She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
The prompt I took this week was 'perish the thought'.
For those who are following 'Demon' don't despair. I haven't abandoned it. Tian and Castien will be back next week, but I wanted to try something different.
We've been studying monologues at our writing group and we have a writing task this week to write something with the title Loneliness at 83. I thought I'd share with you what I came up with. This is a flavour of the valleys.
Have you heard what happened at number eighty–three? Terrible thing. Who would have thought? He
was such a nice old man, always so polite. That’s important, that is, manners.
Not that the young thugs these days known anything about that. Those hoodlums
who stand on the corner, smoking and drinking. Terrible. Do you know that boy
from number fifty–two? He was one of
them, until I told his mother. Nice girl. She does her best, but with five
children and no man what can you expect really? At least they’re clean.
Anyway. Him at number eighty–three. He’s been there as long as I can
remember. He was here when my mother moved in, in nineteen sixty–three. He was
quite a looker back then, by all accounts. Never married. He was lucky to have
that lovely friend. Oh, he was a looker too. Still was at the end. He used to
walk down to the shops every morning. Always had a word. It was so sad when he
died last year. Pour old soul. Cancer, I think. They never said.
Loneliness, they said. That’s what did it. Turned his mind, you know?
He’d never been on his own, that I can remember. He had such nice friends.
Strange thing, though, they seemed to come and go then we never saw them again.
Her at number fifty–two is the same. Different men coming and going. But it’s
different there. She’s a bit, loose. No wonder her boys are out of control. The
latest one is in prison. Man that is, not her boys, although it’s only a matter
of time.
But it wasn’t like that at number eighty–three. They were all gentle,
his friends. Always had time for a chat. Most of them were English. One came
from France. Oh La La. What am I like? Our Dai always had it that they were…you
know…together. As in…together.Boyfriends. It’s nothing today, is it? They’re everywhere. Open
about it now they are. But it was different in nineteen sixty–three. Especially
here, in the valleys.
Marge in the corner shop has one. Her nephew. Gay as anything he is.
Lovely boy though. He still has it hard. His mother’s not very nice to him, so
he spends a lot of time with Marge. Works hard, love him. I like his hair.
Always a different colour. Always smiling, he is, despite everything. Those
thugs give him a hard time. Names and such. They spit on the floor. Not that
they’re only ones, mind. My Dai says he deserves it. Flaunting himself like
that. He wears nail varnish. And make up. Does a better job than the girls. I
thought he was…one of those. Boys who
wear dresses. But he doesn’t. Dai’s got no time for them, though. Gay boys.
There’s a lot of them like that around here. Not that Dai would hurt him. Dai
wouldn’t hurt anyone. That boy in fifty–two now, different story. I wouldn’t
put anything past him.
I don’t think him at number eighty–three was one of them, though. He
was such a gentleman. The Lord knows I never saw him wearing nail varnish. Always
neat, he was. He wore a cravat. You don’t see much of that these days. No, the
young folk don’t give much for dressing smart. Have you seen those trousers
they wear? Showing their pants all over the place.
Listen to me, getting right off the subject. Yes, we were all shocked.
You don’t think, do you? That something like that could happen practically next
door. No one knew. We should have, I suppose. When he stopped passing, I should
have knocked. There’s always so much to do, what with our Bron having the baby
now, and my Dai with his legs. I feel bad now, though. That I didn’t pop round
to say hello. I might have seen.
He’d been there for days, they said. Weeks maybe. Dead. It was the
smell that gave it away, in the end. Owen, who lives in number eighty–five –
that’s next door. They go odds and evens in this street. Well Owen said it was
really bad. His wife couldn’t hang washing out. She’s gutted, she is.
Inconsolable. To think they lived next door and never knew. It was Owen who
found him. Well kind of. He looked through the window – and there he was.
Sitting in a chair. He didn’t know at first. He knocked but there was no answer,
and then there was smell. Through the letter–box. He called the police, of
course, and they found him.
Nancy said it was a prostitute, but you can’t trust her. Terrible
gossip she is, and I can’t see how she would know. Besides, you don’t have boy
prostitutes around here, do you. Not down the docks. Gigolos they call them.
They’re usually rich, aren’t they. Well go with rich women anyway. So what was
one of them doing in number eighty–three?
It was bad, though, by all accounts. He had his throat cut. Who would
have thought that nice old man would be capable of it? But they say it was the
loneliness. He wanted someone to talk to, that’s all. There were two cups of
tea. And a plate of biscuits and he was acting like it was a friend. Like he
wasn’t dead at all. Funny thing, the human mind.
They’ve taken him away now, of course. Had whole teams of police and
the such in there. Had to fumigate the whole place. Owen’s not best pleased.
Got residue on the washing.
And now go check out the rest of the flashers and see what they've done with the prompts this week
Release Date: February 23, 2016 Pages or Words: 47,337 words Categories: Bisexual, Contemporary, Fiction, Ménage/Poly, Romance, *Trans, Asexual, LGBTQ+ Fiction Publisher: Samhain Publishing Cover Artist: Kanaxa Blurb: Sometimes letting things get complicated is the best way to figure it all out.
Mick Randall is on the run, from the biker culture he grew up in and his impossible vision of love. Alaska should be far enough to escape his old life—until he rolls into a wrecking yard and gets lost in a pair of pale, bottle-green eyes.
Scotty Bell has spent years learning to channel his fiery temper into the heat of a welding torch. His sexual heat has always been slower to ignite, but one look at Mick rouses confusion alongside desire. In all his life, he’s only been attracted to one other person—his best friend, Mercy Taylor.
Mick lands a temporary job at the yard, and finds an uneasy crash pad at Scotty’s place…where the ragged ends of his emotions get tangled up in Scotty and Mercy’s relationship.
But when Mick hears a Harley engine from his past bearing down on him, his first instinct is to go back to the half-life he’d been living. Lest his secrets destroy the only two people who’ve ever made him feel whole.
Warning: Contains references to abuse, subversive ideas about sexual identity and gender expression, and a free-range bisexual on a mission.
Author Name: Evelyn Elliott Book Name: Bad Magic Series: Spell Slave Book: OneCan be read as a standalone Release Date: October 28, 2015 Pages or Words: 161 pages, 55,000 words Categories: Bisexual, Fantasy, M/M Romance, Romance Publisher: Dreamspinner Press Cover Artist: Christine Griffin
Blurb:
Morality is relative. At least that’s what young sorcerer Regis Teller convinces himself. He’s done what he must to survive: working for a witch since he was nine, helping her throw the kingdom into anarchy, and taking his only comfort in her mysterious son, Crow. And soon, Regis is going to commit his first murder.
A do-gooder named Jonathan White has information the witch needs, and it’s Regis’s job to get that information and slit Jonathan’s throat. But then Regis actually meets Jonathan. And Jonathan is perfect—a hero with a passion for justice and little regard for civility.
Lucky for Regis, Jonathan has a weakness for attractive men.
Lucky for Jonathan, Regis is fast developing a conscience and a heart.
But for Regis, keeping both of them alive at their adventure’s end means breaking a magical oath and surviving his ruthless boss—all without telling Jonathan the truth. Falling in love is never easy, especially when everyone involved is lying through their teeth.
The first
swallow of spring draws Seanán back to the fae circle each year. There he
dances with the handsome fae lord, Iorweth. He knows the rules he must follow
if he wishes to be free to leave at the end of the night; however, Iorweth is
growing ever more inventive in his attempts to trick Seanán into breaking them.
“Seanán will be dancing with none but me.”
The words were softly spoken, yet the tone brooked no argument, and at this utterance,
the others scurried away and a new figure stepped into view.
A wave of contentment flooded through
Seanán. “Iorweth.” He accepted Iorweth’s proffered hand, and Iorweth pulled him
to his feet as if he weighed nothing. He gazed up at the regal figure. “I have
missed you.”
“And I you. Shall we dance?”
Iorweth swept Seanán into his arms and they
spun toward the edge of the clearing. The others made room for them and they
joined the chain, circling the stone in a dance of pure delight. The music came
from no discernible source, but it filled the air, bright and bell-like, and
between its magical refrains, the fae laughed, clapped, and cavorted in the
moonlight.
Seanán followed Iorweth’s lead. The rest of
the world melted away as he lost himself in the fae lord’s glimmering, emerald
eyes. This was the time of year he felt most alive. In the long months between
these meetings he survived on memories and dreams. They kept him going, but
nothing compared to being here in Iorweth’s arms. The press of his hand on
Seanán’s back—that was the brilliant reality. The rest of his life was
colorless.
Iorweth pulled him closer until their
bodies met. Warmth spread through Seanán and he sighed and rested his head
against Iorweth’s chest. Surely they had dancedfor long
enough. Surely Iorweth would soon take him to the stone. Yet, on and on they
danced. They twirled and dipped and swayed, never breaking from the circle. Seanán
should have felt dizzy. At the very least he should have grown weary. But when
he was with Iorweth, he always had boundless energy. So long as their hands
touched, Seanán believed he could go on dancing without pause, forever.
Author Bio & Links
Asta Idonea (aka Nicki J Markus) was born
in England, but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both
reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having
studied several foreign languages.
Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only
between MM and mainstream works but also between traditional and indie
publishing. Her works span the genres, from paranormal to historical and from
contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring
into her mind!
As a day job, Asta works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare
time she enjoys music, theatre, cinema, photography, and sketching. She also
loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel; all of which
have provided plenty of inspiration for her writing.
Release Date: March 29, 2016Pages or Words: 65,000 words Categories: Fiction, Lesbian Romance, Romance Publisher: Apple Blossom Press Blurb:
When Cecily Parker volunteers backstage at the Oakwood Theater, the only thing she wants is a few hours of relief from the doldrums of her upper class suburban existence. The last thing she expects is to be reunited with the only person she ever truly loved, a woman she left behind almost twenty years ago.
Rorie Mulloy has built a career as an award winning production designer in Hollywood, but her personal life is anything but a success. When she agrees to design the sets for a community theater production of A Streetcar Named Desire in Connecticut, she has no idea that the woman who broke her heart and ruined her for love will be assigned to her crew.
As the sparks are rekindled between them, these star-crossed lovers just might have a second chance at love. But only if they can overcome the ghosts of their past, and survive the sometimes comic cast of characters determined to keep them from their happily ever after.
Title: Home Author: Donna McIntosh Genre: Science Fiction, Thriller, Gay Romance Length: Novel Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing
Synopsis
LAPD Detective Sean Hennessey has one person he’s repeatedly tried to arrest and bring to justice: his nemesis, Mitchell Yates.
Yates has been in and out of trouble for years, always skating around the edges of LA’s underbelly; however, Sean can never pin anything on him.
But one night all of that changes.
Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, instead of arresting Yates, Sean is rescued by him and taken to Yates’ home—a satellite high above Earth. There, Sean discovers a world he thought possible only in Science Fiction.
Everything he believed he knew about Yates is turned upside down, and Sean must make a decision: to remain with the LAPD or join Yates and work toward intergalactic peace.
Let's start by telling us in 20 words or less what the book is about.
A
police detective begins a new life on a satellite with lover, and struggles
with ex-boyfriend, aliens, & vicious animals.
What was it that led you
to write in the genre(s) you write?
I
write M/M because that's what I enjoy reading.
Are your books character
led or plot led, or both?
Both
What is your favourite
part of the writing process?
Creating
the characters, leading them through many different situations, and bringing
them finally to a happy ending.
What is your least
favourite part of the writing process
The
waiting for a publisher's response after submitting a story.
Where do you get your
inspiration for your characters?
I
don't really know. They just come to me.
Tell us a little about the
characters in your book and their story. You can use more than twenty words
this time.
Sean
Hennessey is a L.A. police detective and has this one particular person he has
been trying to pin something on for years. He's always around when crimes are
committed and Sean is sure he's involved. This person is Mitchell Yates (Yana).
Yana
lives on a satellite in space, and works for a group called The Peace Keepers
who fight for intergalactic peace.
The
two of them meet, fall for each other, and struggle to maintain a relationship.
If you could have one wish
what would it be?
To
be able to lose weight and keep it off, while still eating ice cream, burgers,
& pizza, and not – repeat not – have to exercise.
What's your deepest fear?
Becoming
disabled and in need of constant care. Becoming a burden to my children.
If I came to dinner what
would you feed me?
Spaghetti
Which of your characters
would you like to be sharing the dinner table with us?
Sean
Hennessey, L.A. Police detective & Mitchell Yates (Yana) a fighter for
intergalactic peace.
Tell us in the character’s
own words, what he/she would have to say about you.
She
never lets us rest, she puts us through hell, but she gives us a happy ending.
What would they say (again
in their own words) about themselves, and their story that will make us want to
read about it?
Sean
Hennessey: I was given a choice of remaining in a routine, boring life in L.A.,
or joining a group fighting for intergalactic peace with my gorgeous green-eyed
lover. I chose wisely.
Mitchell
Yates (Yana): I finally found the man of my dreams. Now I have to convince him
to leave the L.A. police force and join me, living on a satellite, and the
sometimes dangerous missions we are sent out on.
Which other fictional
character(s) would you like to be present at the dinner party?
From
my book: The elders.
From
any other book/movie: Jack Twist and Ennis del Mar from Brokeback Mountain.
Walter
Skinner and Alex Krycek from The X-Files. Or maybe Indiana Jones.
What other authors would
you say have either influenced your writing or you would like to emulate?
Chris
Carter (X-Files), Annie Proulx (Brokeback Mountain), Richard Stevenson (Donald
Strachey mysteries).
Which character from
literature, would you most like to have invented?
Indiana
Jones, but I would have made him gay.
What do you prefer
writing. A one off novel, a series or short stories?
A
one off novel.
What kind of books do you
read (if you have time to read)?
Science
fiction, westerns, any M/M romances with happy endings. I also enjoy reading
about WW2.
Where do you see yourself
personally and professionally in 5 years time?
Hopefully,
still writing my stories and getting them published.
Do you have any other
projects in the offing we should look out for?
Yes,
I have another book that's been accepted by WIP called THE TEST. We haven't
started the edits yet, so publication date is still unknown. It's about three
college professors who find themselves the sole survivors after some unknown
calamity destroys most of earth.
DONNA McINTOSH was born in Elmira, New York, grew up in Phoenix, Arizona, married a Texan and has lived all over Texas for the last thirty-plus years. Donna has four children, ran a Day Care Center for many years and has written fan fiction since she was thirteen.
Donna loves long walks so her mind can ramble. She loves reading and her tastes run from Historical novels, to Sci-Fi, Westerns, Classics, all the way to WWII and biographies. In short, anything that catches her eye.
Donna loves total quiet, very little TV, occasional movies, wildlife, beaches, birds, cats, newborn babies, flowers, and great big smiles. Oh, and hugs!
She hates flying, total darkness, people who talk endlessly about themselves, intolerance, and bigotry.
Donna’s biggest asset? Her wild and endless imagination.
Her biggest flaw? She’s a Libran and simply cannot make a decision!
DONNA McINTOSH can be found at her website: http://donnamcintosh.weebly.com/
Author Name: Jessie G. Book Name: Talk Dirty to Me Series: Devils Pride MC Book: TwoSeries must be read in order Release Date: Mid-March (around March 15, 2016) Pages or Words: 78,000 words Categories: Bisexual, Contemporary, Erotica, M/M Romance, Mystery, Romance (Please note: Snake’s bisexuality is only mentioned. It is not gone into.) Publisher: Jessie G. Books Inc. Cover Artist: Andrew Reyna Blurb:
As a secret agent for the DEA, Snake’s gone deep into Devils Pride MC with the hope of bringing down the head of Miami’s lucrative drug trade and finds himself saddled with the club’s volatile and secretive SA instead. Unfortunately, after years as partners doing shit neither of them wanted to do for reasons neither of them felt comfortable sharing, Snake considers Trick his best friend. Now he’ll do anything to repair the damage his own necessary lies did to their friendship because, while Trick may have walked away from the MC, Snake needs someone he trusts to have his back.
Meanwhile, Snake’s contact at the DEA has him tied up in knots. The sexy voice and inappropriate comments have him walking around with a permanent set of blue balls. Life undercover is lonely and he lives for every phone call, but his own personal Deep Throat is skittish about committing to a date once Snake returns to headquarters. As far as Snake’s concerned, they only have one shot to build something together and he’s not willing to waste it.
Greg knows he’s not Snake’s type, or anyone’s for that matter. Former love interests called him plain, chubby, and boring. More comfortable in his tech cave than with people, he’s a grade A nerd who isn’t exactly GQ material. Normally he would never be brave enough to flirt with anyone—much less the very hot and very dangerous ginger who’d been starring in his nightly fantasies—but Snake needed something to keep him from getting lost undercover.
What started out as a helping hand quickly became an integral part of their relationship—if one could call a five year phone conversation a relationship—and Greg is terrified that once Snake’s sees the wizard behind the curtain, he’ll lose the only man he’s ever loved.
Now the DEA has called Snake home to plan the next stage of the mission, leaving Greg no more places to hide. When fantasy and reality collide, will it be everything Snake hopes for or everything Greg fears? The trick will be staying alive long enough to figure out the answer.
When entering this blog to post today, I noticed the 'Content Warning'. This has appeared every time I've ever entered the blog and I read it the first time, then forgot it. It is a relevant warning, that the blog posts are likely to have adult content that might not be suitable for under eighteens.It provides information and something far more important - a small measure of legal protection against any allegations of providing content unsuitable for minors.
Okay, I can accept that, see the sense. Still, my hackles rise.
What is the job of the writer? To entertain? Of course. To educate? If possible. To innovate? I sure hope so. To provoke emotion? If their writing is worth a damn. To shock? Many of the best do.
As I see it, the primary job of the writer is to entertain. The secondary, and just as important job, is to educate. By that, I don't necessarily mean to impart information, but rather to expand the mind by introducing new concepts, ideas, experiences etc. This process necessitates change. Change of perception, of ideas, of preconceived notions etc. Even a deepening of compassion and understanding involves some degree of change. And change is often uncomfortable.
Even more uncomfortable is being faced with situations that directly challenges us - our beliefs, our morals, our sensibilities, our experiences. Sometimes these situations are more than uncomfortable and can be downright traumatic. Horror writing, for example, relies on that shock factor.
The issue I'm brought to today, is how far the author should go to warn potential readers of any content they might find to be uncomfortable, offensive or traumatic.
I've been seeing a lot of this about recently. I've read discussions and conversations, and kept out of them because I suspect my opinion is somewhat controversial.
Last week, I read an article that students at some universities in The States have asked the governing body to include content warnings on the books they are required to study, to highlight any possible triggers. Triggers to what?
First, what is a trigger? As I understand it, a trigger is an image or reference to something that provokes a negative reaction in the reader. As indicated above, this is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact if a writer is writing about anything with any weight there are going to be scenes that provoke 'negative' reactions in a their readers and sometimes that is a deliberate thing (again back to horror, also to 'dark' fiction) How many times have we winced, cried, gasped or even cursed the writer when we've read really good books.
But what about victims of abuse or trauma? The problem with this is that, if the psychologists I've read are correct, then absolutely anything can be a trigger, from an otherwise innocuous scent that was around during the incident, to a type of dog, to a colour or article of clothing. All of these can come upon the person unexpectedly and none of them carry a warning. Life does not carry a warning.
Whilst I have a lot of sympathy for people who have suffered trauma and/or abuse - I've been there myself, on more than one occasion, actually - I don't think trigger warnings on books, films etc are ever appropriate. For one thing, how far do we go. I read a trigger warning on a book yesterday that warned that one of the characters briefly mentions abuse that happened to someone else some time ago. That's ridiculous.
I've read warnings about dubious consent on BDSM books where the blurb clearly indicates that might be the case. Warning against the obvious is pointless in the extreme.
Everyone has triggers. Everyone gets offended. Everyone finds some things hard to read. Unless you're reading horror, situations of abuse etc are rarely sudden. There are forewarnings, set ups and indications in most books when something is about to happen. If you think this is going to be a trigger for you, don't read on.
Another thing I've seen warnings about are content that might be offensive. I find these even harder to swallow. Everyone is offended by something and there is WAY too much notice being taken about things that are offensive, or likely to be offensive to someone or other. My opinion is that if it's not deliberately offensive then suck it up and behave like an adult. If you don't like a photograph, don't look at it. If you don't like what someone is saying, stop reading. If you don't like how someone is living their life, keep away from them. Don't expect to be warned every time you pick up a book or log on to a website.
It was recently suggested that there be a warning that content might involve practices of a 'real' magic nature eg Wiccan/Pagan ritual etc. This is simply nonsense and I absolutely refuse to do anything of the like, at least I see a warning that a book may include matters of a Christian nature.
I think by now my views are clear. I don't think warnings are necessary or desirable. They are indication of a growing trend that we should be uber conscious of how our actions, words, photographs etc might upset others. Take this down the road and we're talking a restriction of freedom of speech, act and thought. Obviously, in 'real life' no one should go out of their way to hurt people, but writers should absolutely be free to shock, offend and traumatise their readers, that's part of our job and always has been.
TITLE: Beneath The Surface AUTHOR: M.A. Church PUBLISHER: OmniLit / All Romance eBooks, LLC COVER ARTIST: Erin Dameron-Hill LENGTH: 37,000 words RELEASE DATE: April 01, 2016 BLURB:A whole different world
exists beneath the surface.
The last thing Nisha
expects while patrolling his territory is to find his mate, but his instincts
tell him the handsome human diving into the surf is the one meant for him. Two
bites and Kannon will be joined to him forever. But when Kannon’s father
disrupts the mating process, Nisha releases his claim, hoping beyond hope his
mate will one day return.
While free diving with
his father, Kannon is bitten by a seductive merman. Although he swore to never
go near the ocean again, the pull to return to the water and his mystery man
remains strong. Finally, after fifteen years away, an impromptu wedding brings
Kannon back to the Seychelles, and his destiny.
Kannon only plans to stay
on the island for a week, but this time Nisha won’t let his mate go without a
fight. Merfolk and human culture collide as the embers of Nisha and Kannon’s
mate bond ignite, and Nisha must complete the mating before it’s too late.
A whole different world
existed under the sea—lighting, sounds, even the feeling of otherworldliness.
No matter how clear the water, it still played tricks, even on experienced
divers.
The colorful tropical
fish, artifacts, and the remnants of history buried beneath the waves—along
with a mysterious landscape mostly untouched by humans—always gave Kannon a
thrill. Parts of the reef weren’t very deep, so he had no trouble freediving.
This year for vacation,
Kannon and his dad rented a boat and guide to take them to the reefs around the
Seychelles. This was by no means the first time he’d gone snorkeling. Growing
up along the California coast guaranteed Kannon was comfortable in the water.
The guide had warned
them to stay together, but Kannon had other ideas. Besides, he wasn’t going
that far off. After investigating the colorful reef fish and interesting coral
formations—and seeing his dad was distracted—Kannon slowly but steadily
wandered off on his own. An outcrop of rocks covered in algae caught his eye,
and he went to investigate.
Many of the multihued
native fish swam past him, curious as to what he was. It was funny how they
circled him. Kannon held his hand out. A few braver fish darted in, nibbled at
his fingers, and then swam off. God, what a rush it was. Nothing was better
than this.
He drew closer to the
outcrop, surprised it was much deeper than he’d first thought. Huh, not an
outcrop, but the mouth of an underwater cave. Cool. From a distance it appeared
to be nothing more than oddly shaped rocks. Peering inside, he was unable to
see past the murky blackness within.
Curious, he reached his
hand out, stretching toward the mouth of the cave. His scalp prickled. A tingle
washed through him. The water around him caressed his body as he hung
weightlessly, staring at the cave entrance as his dick swelled in his trunks.
What the…?
It wasn’t as if he made
a habit of getting horny while diving, so what the hell? Torn between desire
and unease, he hovered in the tropical water. Chills chased up his spine, and
goose bumps broke out over his body.
His heart rate sped
up—not a good thing underwater—and the feeling of being watched crept across
his nerves. Something was in there, and his mind screamed at him to get away
even as the urge to reach inside nearly overwhelmed him.
Kannon’s body swayed
dangerously closer. His nipples ached as the water flowed past, and he had to
force himself not to whimper as need struck him. He jerked back. There’s
something waiting for me, just waiting for me to reach in so it can... what? So
it can do what?
Jesus, he needed to get
a serious grip on his imagination, and crap, he had to surface too. Lack of
oxygen made the decision for him. All this panicking on his part had used up
his air—stupid of him.
He surfaced and shook
the hair out of his eyes. Wow, is that our boat way over there? Oh man, Dad’s
going to kill me. Worried about the fit his dad was going to have, he was
totally unprepared for the strange guy who popped up next to him, although
“guy” might have been overly nice.
Kannon yelped, but the
dude across from him just smiled. The androgynous, fey face wasn’t quite human.
The long pointed ears were a good indication, as was the glimpse of sharp
little teeth.
Oh, and the gills at
its neck.
Azure blue hair floated
in the water around shapely shoulders and cobalt blue eyes stared back at him.
It was a visage that was hauntingly beautiful, otherworldly, and a tad
disconcerting. The creature smiled slightly as if he agreed. It—whatever it
was—scared the bejesus out of him.
Then it reached out and
dragged Kannon under the water.
M.A. Church is a true Southern belle who spent many years in the elementary education sector. Now she spends her days lost in fantasy worlds, arguing with hardheaded aliens on far-off planets, herding her numerous shifters, or trying to tempt her country boys away from their fishing poles. It’s a full time job, but hey, someone’s gotta do it!
When not writing, she’s on the back porch tending to the demanding wildlife around the pond in the backyard. The ducks are very outspoken. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, and they have two grown children.
She was a finalist in the 2013 Rainbow Awards, runner up in the 2015 Rainbow Awards, and is a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.
