Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Welcome to A Bear On Books

…on what makes a good book, and what I hate to see.
     I appreciate that Sue has asked poor little old me to guest on her big scary blog today.  Throw me in that briarpatch!   It’s alwas fun, scary and crazymaking to figure out what to talk about that won’t bore the bejesus out of the readers.  And that’s especially true when it’s a reviewer you are reading, not a professional writer.  All I can think about are those cowboys on the salsa commercial – “New York City???” and I am the salsa in question.
     So I thought I would talk about what I look for in a good book, what makes we want to review it and what drives me up the freakin’ wall.
     A good book – that is probably the easiest and hardest thing to pin down.  But I can tell you, every single book that I have reviewed, when I go back and look at the list, has a few things in common with other great books.
·         Characters.  I am drawn to authors that know the characters they are writing about, take the time to develop them and most of all, make ME care about them.  It doesn’t take War and Peace to make it happen for me either.  Rowena Sudbury did a very short work called Blue Moon, and she made me fall in love with Brad and Scott.  I got curious, then invested in the guys.  And  JR Barnaby has a six book series, Little Boy Lost, about two boys who fall in love and get separated.  I hate waiting for the sixth book, but I will buy it the first day it’s on sale and read it that very  night.  I CARE that much!
·         Plot.  Yeah, most of the books in this genre, when you take all the shifters, angst, and whatever else away, tell one simple story.  Boy meets boy.  Boys fall in love.  Boys live HEA.   And I am fine with that.  But the spaces in between finding out who the boys are, why they love each other, and were they will pick out china patters, that’s what keeps me interested.  Connie Bailey’s Moonlight, Tiger and Smokebuilds a complete world of underground societies, assassinations and children trained from age six as operatives.  Completely sucked me in from the first page.  Now, there are exceptions to the rules of HEA.  Wade Kelly’s When Love is not Enough breaks all the rules and grabs me by the heart and never lets me go when one of his three main characters commits suicide.   I had to know, WHY??  And as to the supposed big no no – cheating.  If it is real to the characters, why not?  Don’t add it just to be gratuitous, but men cheat, women cheat.  It’s real life.
·        Voice. Your style.  How you say what you have to say.  Don’t be afraid to let your personality shine through here.  If I am reading something a computer could have generated, and it is cold, removed and inaccessible, you can count on it never making it to my blog.  Amy Lane is a champion of showing her personality.  Really any of her books, but my favorite lately is Truth in the Dark, and try to remain separate from the narrative.  RJ Scott is a master, I think.  She writes in a clear voice but adjusts it to her audience.  The Christmas Throwaway sounds and feels different than Oracle and it is different than The Gallows Tree.  But ALL of them are strong and present.
     And that takes me to my pet peeves.  In no particular order, things over done and/or STOP!
·         “Padded”.  My dogs pad down the hall to be let out.  Babies pad when taking their first steps.  Please let men walk.  I bet 8 out of 10 books I read have men padding into the next room.
·         “Smirked”.  Really?  Grown men smirk during sex, during arguments, in the drive through lane at Taco Bell?  Really?  Really?
·         “Keened”.  I am going to get in SO much trouble her, but one writer used it and then EVERYBODY started using to describe a sound of need.  I always think of think of women rending their garments in grief when their men and sons come home on a shield from war.  Sorry.  A.  Personal.  Preference.
·         Alpha shifters six and a half feet tall and five and a half foot tall twink mates.  Shoot me now.  Always makes me feel like a perv and not in a good way.  More like in a, is he a daddy (not Daddy, daddy) and this is his son?, kind of perv.  And now I need a shower.
·         Straight guy gay for you lust at first sight.  Gonna get my ass kicked again.  I am a gay man.  I am 50 years old.  I have been with straight men.  I have had my heart broken by straight men.  I know many many gay men who have gone down that rabbit hole (so to speak).  It 99.99% of the time does not end well.  They don’t just fall in lust suddenly then have a HEA.  It takes time.   
      And please remember, all, these are just my personal preferences.  None of them kill a book for me.  I just notice things.
     So, Sue, ready to hide me from the angry mob?

Monday, 30 January 2012

Vintage Gay Memories

Sweet lad, tender lad,
Have no shame, you’re mine for good;
We share a sole insurgent fire,
We live in boundless brotherhood.

I do not fear the gibes of men;
One being split in two we dwell,
The kernel of a double nut
Embedded in a single shell.

Dear Peter,
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone. You hold me without touch, keep me without chains. I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.
Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am, and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be — but you’re on to me, and all over me.
You loved me ’cause I’m fragile — when I thought that I was strong. But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone. I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you’re everything I think I need here on the ground. But you’re neither friend nor foe, though I can’t seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down. You’re on to me, on to me, and all over
…Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long.

Sunday, 29 January 2012

Welcome to Lou Harper

Okay, Lou, anyone who can start their post here with a quote from Monty Python gets 5 stars.

Over to Lou Harper

"I object to all this sex on the television. I mean, I keep falling off."   (Monty Python)

My friend, and number one beta reader, Jo Myles, called Academic Pursuits "a cross between gay erotica and m/m romance," and I'm afraid she's right. It's not as far into erotica as an average James Lear novel, but not quite within the safe harbor of m/m.

Judging from perusing Goodreads, the m/m readership falls into two main camps: the purists and the naughties. The purists like romance in many forms, yet expect their heroes to be pure in body and soul. They are unforgiving of any hint of cheating or sluttiness. Naughties, on the other hand, embrace the bad boys, and sometimes stray into reading erotica, while remaining basically romantic. I suspect purists largely find their way to m/m via het romance/erotica, while naughties get there through gay literary fiction, erotica, and slash. Well, that's my theory, anyway.

Jamie, the protagonist of Academic Pursuits is definitely a naughty boy. He pursues men—gay and straight—without shame, with interesting and occasionally surprising results. Fortunately, he also has a good heart and a sense of humor.

Jamie Brennan is putting "cad" back into academia!

The son of a well-to-do family and blessed with both dark good looks and buckets of confidence, Jamie lives for the chase. He has a well-deserved reputation around college as a seducer of straight frat boys. No man is off-limits to Jamie—he’s happy to help fellow gay students out of the closet, too. He even has lustful designs on his oblivious English professor, so it’s no surprise that his amorous pursuits often land him in sticky situations.

There's just one flaw in Jamie's perfect world—Roger Hunt. The hunky grad student, who dresses more like a lumberjack than the talented artist he is, gives Jamie hostile looks every time their paths cross. Jamie tries to ignore Roger, but they can't seem to stop running into each other, and Jamie's beginning to wonder if it’s more than chance that continues to steer them down the same halls…

So dear reader, are you a purist or a naughty? Would you like to know if romance catches up with Jamie? To help you decide, here is a short—X-rated—excerpt:

It’s hard to talk with your mouth full of cock. And anyway, I was fairly certain Butch Hollins’s question regarding the origin of my skills of sucking said cock was a rhetorical one. So I ignored it and kept up the suction. I didn’t want him to come too soon, so I teased him a little. I pulled off and let my tongue play with his cockhead, dance around the rim, lick the shiny mushroom head. Up to that point, Hollins had kept his hands by his sides, but just then he placed one on the top of my head and applied a modest but determined pressure. I smiled to myself: my tasty frat boy had just stepped over an invisible line. To reward him, I ducked down on his shaft and worked it with my throat. He was a chubby six inches—big enough, and I was no size queen.

When his cockhead hit the back of my throat, Hollins sucked in air like he’d been holding his breath for the last few minutes. I assumed the dull thunk I heard was the sound of his head hitting the bathroom door. It was out of sync with the rhythmic thumping from the music of the party downstairs.

While I worked Hollins’s cock with my mouth, I used one hand to massage his balls and perineum, but didn’t venture farther. I didn’t want to spook him. You had to be careful with straight boys. I kept my other hand on my own shaft, stroking it at a steady rhythm. When I felt his balls tighten and draw up, I took him down as deep as I could and hummed around his cock. His hips bucked and his warm cum gushed down my throat. Those guttural grunts and groans he made pushed me that much closer to my own release.

Hollins lifted his hand off my head, but otherwise didn’t move away while I brought myself to finish. It didn’t take long. My spunk splattered on the tiled floor, with a few stray drops landing on the cuffs of Hollins’s jeans.

“Boarding school,” I said, standing and zipping up my jeans.
“Huh?” Hollins’s eyes were still glazed over.

“That’s where I learned to suck cock,” I elaborated.

Hollins said nothing. Clearly, he wasn’t the chatty-after-sex kinda guy. That was fine with me. I made a half-hearted attempt to clean up the mess I’d made. I dabbed at it with a wad of toilet paper, then I gave up. I was sure the floor had seen worse and probably would see more of it before the night was over. We were in a frat house, it was Saturday night and the party downstairs was just warming up.

I checked myself out in the mirror: there was a drop of spunk at the corner of my swollen mouth. I stuck my tongue out and licked it off. Tussled dark hair: check. Blue eyes above flushed cheeks: check. I looked my debauched best. It was time for me to take my leave before things got awkward.
“It’s been nice blowing you, Hollins. See you around, ’kay?” I said with my friendly, it’s-no-big-deal smile I kept for these occasions.

I gave him one last look from the door: He was a blond, corn-fed boy from the heartland. His normally uncomplicated face wore a slightly baffled expression. I gave him one last flash of my smile and left.

Lou's bio: "Under a prickly, cynical surface Lou Harper is an incorrigible romantic. Her love affair with the written word started at a tender age. There was never a time when stories weren't romping around in her head. She is currently embroiled in a ruinous romance with adjectives. In her free time Lou stalks deviant words and feral narratives.
Lou's favorite animal is the hedgehog. She likes nature, books, movies, photography, and good food. She has a temper and mood swings.
Lou has misspent most of her life in parts of Europe and the US, but is now firmly settled in Los Angeles and worships the sun. However, she thinks the ocean smells funny. Lou is a loner, a misfit, and a happy drunk."

Saturday, 28 January 2012

Back catalogue: Mr. Plum

I am very fond of this story because it features my favourite coffee shop on platform 4.

Mr, Plum published by Torquere Press

It was the color of the sleeve that Dave noticed, a deep plum that matched the stripe on the tie Tom was wearing. Dave always noticed things like that. He had a keen eye for detail. Dave was green with envy; he had never been given that sleeve. Plum was by far and away his favorite color, and yet the world and the coffee shop on the station had never seen fit to give him a plum sleeve on Dave’s morning drink.

He didn't get it this time either. His was red. It was a deep red and it wasn't bad, but it wasn't plum and it made Dave grit his teeth in frustration. He could hardly demand that Kai, the barista with a huge smile who made him industrial strength coffee every morning at no extra charge, hunt through cardboard sleeves until he found a plum one. Yeah, he could just see how well that would go down with the queue of bleary-eyed commuters behind him. So he just smiled thinly and, clutching his coffee, followed Mr. Plum, for want of a better name, out of the tiny coffee shop on platform four, to await the 8:50 to London Waterloo.

The lucky man wandered farther up the platform than Dave normally stood, his nose buried deep in his Kindle. He didn't seem to notice the covetous glances Dave had been casting at his coffee cup. The train arrived and they both got on, Mr. Plum in another carriage. Dave was lucky enough to find a seat, and he sat, sipping at his coffee, with the crimson sleeve around his cup. If the coffee tasted a little bitter to him, maybe that was just an added dash of sour grapes -- plum colored, of course.

Friday, 27 January 2012

A Ramble through Sue's Week

I have been conspicuous by my absence from my blog this week; partly because I have nothing to say, and partly because I've had a cold. I've spent much of my time curled up in my bed, being looked after by my kids. I've also managed to add a few thousand words to Empty Sands, pick my men for Morning Report (thank you, thank you DWS Photography for your gorgeous photos and my facilitator, Laura Harner) and finalise The Layered Mask... nervous, very nervous to be treading into the Regency genre.
So next week sees the publication of Light of Day, published by Dreamspinner on 1st February, and The Layered Mask, published by Silver Publishing on 4th February. WOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!

Right, I'm off to be fed and watered by a friend. Thank you to all my guests this week, and I look forward to next week, with Tom Webb from the review site, A Bear on Books, discussing what he looks for in the books he reads.

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Welcome to Theo Fenraven, JD and Kellan.

Theo Fenravens's interview is a new one for me. He is being interviewed by his characters, Kellan and JD from "Numbers".

Over to you, Kellan and JD.

Kellan: I'll start by thanking you for writing me so beautifully.
JD: For chrissakes, tiptoe around the guy, why don't you. *fixes Theo with a sharp eye* Let's just get into it, shall we? Where did you get the idea for the story?
Theo: *somewhat taken aback* I probably shouldn't have made you so mouthy, JD. If I ever write you again, I will rectify that.
JD: *irrepressible as always* Promises, promises. So, the idea? Did it fall out of a window like a drugged cat and bonk you on the head?
Theo: It actually started out as fanfic. I used to write it, back in the day, and it was probably my most popular work. After my first ebook was released, I took a long look at some of those pieces to see which ones could be adapted for publication, and the banter between you two was outstanding. It made me smile and laugh every time I read it, so I changed everything else and lucky for us all, it worked well enough that Dreamspinner took a chance on it.
Kellan: My only complaint with our story is that it's too short, but I admit the flow is excellent. Is the original still online somewhere?
Theo: Uh, no. All my previous work has been moved offline, just in case I decide I can plunder any more of it. ;/
JD: The idea of throwing out numbers as reasons why two people shouldn't get together is clever. How long did it take you to complete?
Theo: About two hours. I got the idea, starting writing, and it poured out in one piece. I don't even remember doing much editing to it.
Kellan: Are you always so fortunate?
Theo: Hell, no. Writing is hard for me. Real work. If I produce a thousand words a day, I'm well pleased with myself.
JD: So what are you working on now, and can I be in it?
Theo: *grins at JD* Dreamspinner just accepted a romantic thriller set in Florida centering around a major league baseball player who complicates his life in ways I'm not currently at liberty to say.
JD: *snorts* In other words, if you want to know, buy the book.
Theo: Release date is set for June or July, so you don't have all that long to wait. The working title is "The Blue Paradise."
Kellan: "Blue River" was released just last month. How's that doing for you? And do you have some strange attraction to the word 'blue'?
Theo: It got an 'A' rating at Brief Encounters and I've received positive reader feedback, so I guess it's doing okay, and no, I like the color blue but I don't fall asleep dreaming of it. Can I ask a question? *they nod* Are you two still together?
JD: It's how you left us, so of course we are. I think you should write another story about us because, let's face it, we are amusing as hell and I think readers would like to know more about our sizzling hot love affair. Whaddaya say?
Theo: *raises an eyebrow* I'll consider it, but don't hold your breath.
JD: We can't hold our breath. We're figments of your imagination. Sheesh.
You can find Theo's ebooks at MLRPress, Dreamspinner Press, and they're available (except for "Numbers") at Amazon and Barnes&Noble for your e-readers.

Theo's Bio: Theo Fenraven grew up in rural Ohio, and so, early writing featured horses, cows, and pirates in tree houses. An occasional cowboy or astronaut sometimes showed up by accident. Then he hit puberty and everything changed. His focus shifted to love, romance, and sex, and it's pretty much remained there ever since. He currently lives in NYC, has an okay job doing relatively unimportant things, and writes every chance he gets. His stories now reflect the drama and adventure of people exploring themselves and others. He apologizes in advance if the occasional cowboy or astronaut show up.

email: fenraven@gmail.com
twitter: @fenraven

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Welcome to Xavier Axelson: Lily

Today I have the gorgeous Xavier Axelson back with me, promoting his new book, Lily, published by Silver Publishing.


When Pryor's daughter Lily is taken by a wolf, Pryor is convinced she has turned into the creature he sees lurking in his woods.  He swears she promises to return to him. But is it his despair and desperation making him see things or is there something more lurking in the shadows of the forest?  When he meets Ned, a silversmith who helps him with a plan to bring his daughter back into his life, he begins to live again. But can his newfound love help ease the horror that may be waiting? What if the ultimate horror isn’t when Lily was taken but it’s when Lily returns and he realizes his nightmare has only just begun...

Book Trailer:

I am Lily's father, my name is Pryor. It was a year ago last Father's Day when she was taken from me. I still believe being Lily's father is the most important thing in this world.
Unfortunately, my daughter dwells in another world.
* * * * *
I glanced at the necklace. Ned's pressed close to me, but the necklace I hoped would bring Lily back to me felt closer. Ned was soft in his sleep; not the bull of a man he was when he's awake. I loved him soft and I loved him hard. It was his hardness that grounded me, that brought me in from the darkness. The necklace caught the light of the fading moon and I wondered where Lily was tonight.
The old clock on the nightstand hummed quietly; its vintage florescent glow a pale mockery of the necklace that lay beside it and yet I heard the clock, it won in that department. Time always does.
Ned moved against me, I could feel his arms pull me close, felt the bulge of his muscles, his arms thick and powerful. He had never loved a man before me. I had only loved Lily. Once she changed, I had little left to love; in fact, I was certain love had disappeared from my life all together.
The clock still hummed, never quiet; it's old and made noise as if time itself wanted us all to know that it was passing and with each minute Lily fell farther and farther into the darkness. The tears came then and at the same time Ned's cock pushed more firmly against my back. He grumbled, pulled me even tighter so that I could truly feel his penis--not hard, not entirely soft--on the edge of wanting. A tear fell and I gasped a little. Seeing the necklace; hearing the clock, feeling Ned's cock, his muscles, I fell away into him and closed my eyes.
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I was," I replied softly.
"No you weren't," his voice was sleepy; distant and yet he knew things, he knew I was awake, thinking about my lost daughter.
"It's Father's Day," I answered, skipping over my lie. "Do you think she will come?" I felt him nod and nodded in return against my pillow. Another tear fell.
"Come closer," he whispered.
"How much closer could I get?"
"Closer," he said again, a growl, a grunt; there was the bull I knew.
His lips brushed on my neck, a hand on my thigh stroking, touching, pulling a sigh from my mouth. I wiped a hand across my face.
"I never get sick of touching you," he whispered wetly, his tongue tracing my ear.
Smiling, I turned in his big arms and I could feel my thoughts ease. Ned had that way about him. 'Magic arms' I called him because he had this way of holding me that made me feel completely safe and for one man to be able to do that for another was amazing.
I kissed him and was happy to discover his breath was not bad but sweet, the trace of his toothpaste before bed still there and I smiled even as I kissed him. Ned sighed gently, his cock fully hard now, urgent, pressing. I reached down and stroked him through his boxers; he was already wet. I tried to pull my tongue from his mouth but he only pulled me closer, deeper; at one point I was almost certain one of us was going to stop breathing.
He finally relented but only because I jokingly squeezed his balls a little too tightly.
"Fuck, you make me nuts," he grumbled, we both laughed at his joke.

His hand reached for my cock; I slept naked so there was no flimsy cotton between his rough hands and my skin.
"You like that?"
I nodded, I did like it, I'd thought I wouldn't ever be able to like sex again, or any intimacy after Lily disappeared.
His hands were rough but I relished his edges; he touched me as if he knew me and, after a year, I guess he kind of did.
"You want me to suck it?" His voice was hoarse with his question; there was still a shy embarrassment behind it, as if he couldn't really believe he was going to suck cock.
"What do you think?"
My response excited him. I could see it in his eyes, even in the dark; the fading moon told me just enough.
When you had a daughter like mine, you learned a lot from the moon.

Xavier's Bio:
Xavier Axelson is a writer of erotica for Silver Publishing and Seventh Window Publications
He is also the Los Angeles Sex Advice Columnist for Examiner.com, contributes regularly to Queer Magazine Online, and writes a column for All Bear Online Magazine
Xavier has worked in the adult industry for over 15 years.  During this time, he has assisted countless people with exploring their healthy sexual needs, questions, and lifestyles.  He has trained as a dungeon master, worked for a notorious Hollywood Madame as a consultant and as a talent agent for the adult film industry. 
Xavier has several degrees in fields such as communications, library technology, and literature.

Where to find Xavier Axelson:

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Welcome to Josie: A Reader that every author wants

On my blog I have invited many authors to promote their books, but this time I have invited Josie, who is a confirmed bookaholic. She has introduced me to so many authors... yes, you S.A Meade, and Marie Sexton and Mary Calmes. Josie is the reader who introduced me to Bailey Bradford and Kim Dare and a love of shifter stories. She introduced me to CB Conway and Jet Mykles. As for BDSM... I could go on and on and on. Instead, why don't I hand over to Josie, and let her do the talking.

Over to Josie...

Hello I'm Josie. Over at Goodreads and on FB I am known as Josie Goodreads.

I am flattered that the wonderful Sue Brown has asked me to write about my taste in books, and what I look for in a book, but first of all I have to make an announcement……….I'm a bookaholic……….there I’ve said it. 

I buy 100s of books every year and read about 1 in every 10. I do plan to read all the books I buy, it's just before I've finished one book another gorgeous new cover is winking at me, and a tantalising blurb is whispering ‘buy me’ in my ear, then before you know it another book has appeared on my Kindle! So before I get started I wanted to say a big heartfelt sorry to every author who has spotted tons of their books on my TBR list at Goodreads, I will get around to reading them eventually, I promise.
I read exclusively m/m Fiction; I first discovered this back in 2009 when I was hunting for a Queer as Folk fan fic story which had been published. Prior to that I didn't know original m/m fiction existed, suddenly a whole new world of fiction opened up for me, this arrived at the same time as my first e-reader, a lovely Sony PRS505, and the world was suddenly my oyster.

The first book I ever bought was Impacted by Mickie B Ashling, (not the story I was hunting for btw) which shamefully is still unread today. Do I have the sequel, yes, of course, which leads me to my next big weakness...sets of books…series, I love a series, and invariably I'll buy all the books in a series, as they come out, before I've even read the first book!
As for my taste in books, well, m/m fiction has opened me up to a hither unknown direction for me, BDSM. I don’t read exclusively BDSM, but I do gravitate to that genre, which is something I didn’t realise at first. I also find I tend to stay with authors I know and love authors such as Sue Brown; she has three books in my top ten, Nothing Ever Happens, Chance to be King, and Morning Report. I adore Sue as she writes the most amazing angsty stories, she doesn’t shy away from the tricky subjects such as Infidelity (Nothing Ever Happens), Religious bigotry and Homophobia (Morning Report) and Domestic Abuse (Final Admission), yet all her books have a ‘Happy Ever After’, I need that in a book, well all except one, I still haven’t read Night Porter, I can’t until I have her much anticipated sequel in my sticky little paws. Light of Day is due out on 1st Feb from Dreamspinner. Mine is already pre ordered so I’ll start Night Porter a few days before the release date, that way I can run straight from one book to the other.
Apart from BDSM I love shifter stories, wolves, lions, were-cats, and let’s not forget cowboys, detectives, whatever really my taste in books is very wide, as long as I get my happy ever after I can read almost anything. Authors like Sue and all the other authors I read have opened up my world of fiction and given me so much pleasure I can’t imagine a time before m/m books. I have always read but before I discovered m/m books my world was full of Kings and Queens and Dragons and Warlocks, now it’s full of gorgeous hunky men, rose tinged futures, all fed with a healthy dose of angst….I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you Sue for letting me lose on your blog, it’s been a pleasure, and for anyone still reading here I’ll see you over on Goodreads or on Facebook. 

Monday, 23 January 2012

Welcome to Jamieson Wolf: The Genesis of Shadows

I have spent the past hour rambling over Jamieson's website. I am completely awed at the variety of genres he can cover. When I grow up I want to be like him!

Over to you, Jamieson.

Reaping Shadows started with an idea: What if a shadow was more than it seemed? What if our shadows, those oblong shapes that follow us, were alive? What if they had a function other than shadowing our living bodies?

From there, the idea grew. You can’t have a story without characters and those characters can’t move within the story without motivation. Darion came to me immediately and I knew that he would be death. Not Death, with a capital D, but one of many who were responsible for claiming the souls of those ready to pass on.

His Shadow would seek out those souls and Darion would follow. But what would happen if Darion found a soul he could not bare to take? What if he found a mortal who could see him and his Shadow? That’s where Kale came in.

The original story was only about 3,000 words or so. It didn’t delve too deep into who the characters were, but it was a hot love scene with kind of a Romeo and Juliet feel. I thought I was done with the story and that I could move on to something else.

However, when I submitted it to Breathless Press, I was told that it would have to be 10,000 words or over. So I found myself faced with a challenge and a question: I would have to write more of the story, but what would happen?

Never being one to shy away from a challenge, I set to work rewriting Reaping Shadows. The results surprised even me. Now, not only was Kale just a love interest, he was a player in a dangerous game inside of a dark underworld he had no knowledge of. The novel is told from Darion’s point of view; how to show Kale’s transformation through someone else’s eyes?

There had been a year between the first writing of Reaping Shadows and the rewrite. It was like discovering old friends again and I discovered more as I went along. The story within Reaping Shadows was not plotted, so a lot of it surprised me. However, I couldn’t be more thrilled with how it turned out.

Not only did I build characters, a system of Reaping, I built a world in which my characters could come to life in. As I wrote, I was constantly surprised, awed and thrilled. I can only hope you feel the same way when you read the novel.

You can get your copy here at Breathless Press

And DO let me know if you enjoy it. Without anyone to write for, writing would be half as much fun. 

Jamieson's bio: Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams.
He is a Number One Best Selling Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different genre's. 
Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer.
He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Mave, who thinks she's people.

You can email Jamieson or follow him on Facebook or TwitterYou can also check out his blog on Tumblr.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Six Sentence Sunday: Light of Day

My Six Sentence Sunday comes from Light of Day, the sequel of The Night Porter, due to be published on 1st February. 
“There’s a man at the door. He asked me to give you this.” She held out some paper towel folded into the shape of a cone.
Getting out of the hammock, Max took the paper cone and looked down at it blankly. Nestled inside the damp paper were small yellow flowers, already starting to wilt in the intense heat of summer.
“Is he the one, Max? The reason you’re here?” his mom asked curiously, the tip of one finger tracing the petals of one of the buttercups.
Nodding faintly, he swallowed hard, asking, “Was there a message?” 

Welcome to DC Juris

Oooh, I have DC Juris back again and sharing a brand spanking new virginal excerpt. This makes Sue a happy girl.

Over to you, Danny...

Hi folks! ::settles in::

Today I'm here to share an excerpt from my newest release, "Betrayed."

Now, for most of you who know me, you're used to lighter stories. Maybe some food play, maybe some twincest - but usually it's all done on a happy note.

That's not the case for "Betrayed." Well, it almost was the case. I submitted it to my editor at Breathless Press, and at first, it was met with a resounding "no." To be fair, it was more like a "tweak it and we'll talk."

To my astonishment, what my editor wanted as more darkness.

I'd written all the dark stuff originally, and then taken it out. My readers would never want something like that. They'd never be okay with all that doom and gloom.

But on the other hand, I had to see this story accepted. You see, it's a rewrite of the very first serious story I'd ever written. These characters had been with me since I was sixteen years old - that's seventeen years. I owed them publication.

So I put all the dark bits back in, and resent it. My editor loved it. Turns out, my readers love it, too. Even the ones who really, really don't like dark stories.

::smiles proudly:: So, without further ado, here's a you-won't-find-it-anywhere-else excerpt!

She held the coin up to her mouth and bit down on it. Apparently satisfied, she pocketed the payment and pushed the door open. “Take your pick.”
Meldrick wrinkled his nose at the assembled women. “Have you no men?”
“Ah. Come this way.” He followed her farther down the hallway to another door, this one blue. She opened it, and they stepped inside. Meldrick took in his surroundings, his cock going hard. Dozens of men filled the room, most of them naked, men of all heights and body builds, all skin tones, longhaired and shorthaired. Some lounged on luxurious-looking couches or chairs, some stood talking, others had paired—or trioed or quadrupled—off into corners and were engaged in pleasuring each other while a few looked on, cocks in hand. The room smelled of sweat and sex. Meldrick licked his lips and savored the hum of lust in his veins.
“See anything you like?” she prompted.
He didn’t see anything he didn’t like. “Are any of them inclined to do things outside the norm?”
“How far outside?”
Meldrick wrinkled his brow. “Mayhaps a little rough.”
She grinned. “Taram,” she called out.
A man on the other side of the room responded, standing quickly and moving toward them. He wore no clothing, except for a leather ring around his long, thick, erect cock. The man towered well above the rest of the men, with short hair, broad shoulders, a trim waist, and hips that Meldrick longed to dig his fingers into.
“You’ve been selected.” The woman gestured to Meldrick.
Taram looked him up and down, smiling. “Indeed I have.” He held out a hand. “I’m Taram.”
Meldrick glanced down at the man’s hand. He hadn’t expected to know anything about the person he ended up with. He shook Taram’s hand, though. “I’m Mel—” he faltered, realizing at last that he likely shouldn’t use his real name. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure no one had known his destination after the feast, giving out several different versions of his plans for the evening to those who had asked, and even stopping to buy a pair of gloves to hide the scar on his hand. Just in case. By royal edict, knights weren’t permitted in such places. And such places weren’t permitted to serve knights.
Taram shrugged. “You needn’t share your name. Come.” He took Meldrick’s hand and began to leave.
Meldrick pulled back. “You can bring someone with you, if you’d like.” He’d never taken part in anything like that, but the array of choices had his mouth watering and his inhibitions all but gone.
Taram’s ear-to-ear grin made Meldrick’s cock twitch. “Bizub,” Taram called out. “Join us.”
The man stood and came to join them immediately. He ran his hands up and down his body as he approached, toyed with his nipples, and bit his lower lip, his fat cockhead glistening. Much shorter than Taram, he had an almost feminine beauty to his round face, full mouth, and doe eyes. He fluttered his long lashes and smiled sweetly up at Meldrick.
“This is Bizub,” Taram introduced as he slid an arm around Bizub.
Bizub nestled against Taram, ran a hand up Taram’s chest, and Meldrick groaned softly.
“I assume you chose me for a reason?” Taram asked.
Meldrick gestured to the woman. “She said you don’t mind rough.”
Taram nodded. “Neither of us does. My only rule is that you don’t leave any marks on my face.”
Bizub chuckled. “He has to keep his pretty face safe for those who like him for it. I, on the other hand...” He trailed off and shrugged.
They each took one of Meldrick’s hands, led him through a door off to the left side of the room and into another, smaller room. Two torches hung in sconces on each wall, giving just enough light to see. A large bed stood in the middle of the room, piled high with pillows, silks, and furs. Beside the bed, an assortment of things—manacles, several cock-shaped items, bottles of oil, and what appeared to be a plug of some kind—had been laid out on a table. Though Meldrick had never seen anything like some of them, there was little guess as to what they were for. They entered the room, Taram first, then Bizub, with Meldrick behind them. Just inside the door, Meldrick grabbed Bizub by the arm, spun him around, and pinned him against the wall.
Bizub collided with a whuff and smiled. “You waste no time.”
“Don’t speak.” Cock straining against his breeches, Meldrick wrapped one hand around Bizub’s throat and squeezed experimentally, cursing the glove that hampered his ability to feel vulnerable skin and bone beneath his flesh. Bizub tipped his head back in response. Meldrick dipped his other hand to Bizub’s cock, started tugging with sharp, harsh downward motions. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Bizub was Faldor.


Two years after he lost his soul mate to the war, Faldor still pines for Meldrick. His world is turned upside down when Meldrick appears on his doorstep late one night, seemingly back from the dead. Finally escaped from a prison camp, Meldrick protects a dark secret—one that could rip their rekindled love apart if Faldor ever learned the truth. But the longer they're together, the more questions come up. What really happened two years ago? How did Meldrick escape the prison camp after so long? Is Meldrick still the man Faldor fell in love with? Can Meldrick reconcile who he is with who he was and move beyond his treachery, or will betrayal win?

Buy Link at All Romance eBook

Author bio:

A Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all of his charm, DC Juris is an out and proud transgender bisexual living in Upstate New York with his husband, four dogs, three cats, and a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people guessing about his sanity. He's still hopelessly single when it comes to the woman in his life, and he'll gladly entertain offers or applications for the position! In the rare event that he's not writing, DC can be found surfing the internet for random research, killing things on his Xbox, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or playing Farmville, to which he admits a complete and totally blissful addiction. You can keep up with him atwww.facebook.com/dcjuris, or www.dcjuris.com