Welcome Breathless Press Spencer Dryden today
Please give a warm welcome to author Spencer Dryden who drops by to talk about their new release from Breathless Press, Then, One Frozen Christmas Eve, now available.
Can you please tell us about your latest/upcoming book(s)?
"Then, One Frozen Christmas Eve" is part of a seasonal theme collection from Breathless Press. It is a story of a heating technician (Don) who encounters a woman (Becky) in danger of freezing to death due to her furnace failing on Christmas Eve. When Don learns that Becky has no place to go, he invites her to stay with him until the furnace can be replaced. Things heat up between them.
How did you come with the idea for this story?
This story takes place in my back yard, the frozen tundra of Minnesota, where furnaces fail as the temperature drops. The opening of the story is in the wake of a paralyzing blizzard followed by the inevitable cold. It is twenty-four degrees below zero. That's not the cold of some wussy Hallmark Christmas movie, it's mind numbing frost bite cold. I support my writing jones by doing handyman work. My stories have a back drop of reality. It's cold here and our furnaces fail at the most inconvenient moments. The love story in Frozen Christmas is the fantasy built on that reality. It was just one of my 'what if?' scenarios. What if a lonely heating technician doing emergency repairs on Christmas Eve encountered an attractive woman in danger of freezing to death if he doesn't take pity on her circumstances?
Who is your ultimate "book boy/girlfriend"? You know, that hottie you read about and drool over.
I'm a movie guy, so my movie gal is Eva Mendez. She's got that hot latina thing that a pasty old white guy finds so alluring. But to be true to the question of hottie from reading, I am going to be terribly self- serving. I can't write about a female lead until I am in love with her. I love all my female MC's, from the fierce Christina McArdle in "Bliss", the 6'7" Vanessa Cunningham in "Love Above See Level", to my latest love, Becky Thompson in "Then one Frozen Christmas Eve". They are all loveable creatures in their own way, each with their own special allure.
Who is your Celebrity crush? And what would you do if you ever meet them? Eva Mendez. I think I'd just drool like an idiot.
If you could collaborate with another author on a secret project, who would you pick to work with and why? I have done a fun collaboration already with my crit partner, Meg Amor. I wouldn't call it secret, just undiscovered. We have had a series of open conversations on her blog. She writes troika stories and M/M fiction. We have discussed all manner of things from penis size to pick-up lines. It's a lot of fun. It has forced me to examine why I like or dislike the things I do. Meg finds wonderful graphics to support our conversations.
Then, One Frozen Christmas Eve
Available at Publisher
On a freezing cold Christmas Eve, a broken furnace unites a lonely heating technician and his client who is forced out of her home.
On a snowy, frigid Christmas Eve in Minnesota, a heating technician makes an emergency call to a townhome without heat. Don is unable to repair the unit and tells Becky, the occupant, she must vacate the premises and stay in a hotel for her own safety. Becky breaks down and tells Don she has no money and no place to go. She has no friends or family locally and has maxed out her credit cards relocating from San Diego. Don invites her to stay with him until the furnace can be replaced.
Don is smitten by her good looks and warm, inviting manor. He begins to fantasize about a romantic connection, but is restrained by a crippling fear of his sexual inadequacy. Safe at his apartment, Becky turns up the heat on the shy divorcee. Can she melt his fears of intimacy and give him an unforgettable Christmas?
It was more than the combination of fear and hope in her eyes. I see that all the time as a heating and cooling technician. It was something else. Something erotic that made my cock stir as I stepped into her chilly townhome. My cock was buried under three layers of warm clothing—it was twenty-four cock-shrinking degrees below zero outside—but there had always been a path from eyes to cock. Usually it was a luscious pair of breasts pouring from a peek-a-boob shirt, or a firm, round ass that flashed the go code from eyes to groin. All fair-weather sightings. She was so deeply layered in mismatched clothing there was no sign of her sexuality, except for her sparkling blue eyes that quickly changed from fearful to full of mirth and a hint of lust. They were stroking my cock.
This surreal moment had been orchestrated by mother nature, who decided on December 23 to dump a paralyzing thirty inches of snow on Minneapolis, followed the next day, Christmas Eve, by an artic blast locals call a Polar Vortex. It drags extremely cold air directly from the North Pole. This isn't the cold of some cutesy Hallmark Channel romance movie where a couple trapped in quaint cabin by a winter snow rekindle an old love between commercials for Viagra and pain relievers. This is bone-chilling, mind-numbing, dangerous cold, where just a few minutes of unprotected exposure causes severe frostbite. It's one of the reasons we native Minnesotans aren't all that fashionable six months out of the year. We'd rather be warm than look hot.
My employer, a big heating and air-conditioning contractor, had cancelled all Christmas vacation requests the minute the snow started flying. Didn't matter. The airport and interstate highways were closed. Without a four-wheel drive tank like my service truck, negotiating city streets was difficult, if not impossible.
Heating systems were failing due to the extreme conditions. It made the cash register ring for my employer. As much as I hated it, the crisis offered me lots of overtime, earning pay at time and a half. I even volunteered to be on call for Christmas Day, which paid triple time. I didn't have anywhere else to go anyhow. My wife left me for my best ex-friend Ray six months ago. Sometimes in the quiet of the evening, I still heard her gasping in ecstasy as I came through the front door. I was home early, only to find her beneath Ray, her legs splayed wide as he rammed her furiously. She never made that kind of joyful noise when we made love. It took my breath and my heart. I had turned on my heel and walked out.
About the Author
Spencer Dryden is a new writer, but an old guy on the threshold of draining any reserves left in Medicare and Social Security. In real life he is a handyman, an at-home dad, inventor, and web videographer, living a quiet life in the frozen tundra of Minnesota (USA).
He earned an MBA from a prestigious Midwestern university, but is so far behind on the career earnings scale of his peers that the university has offered to refund his tuition if he will return his diploma and disavow his affiliation, lest he continue to denigrate the school's impeccable brand.
His first book, a novella, Bliss was published in April of 2014 in the Covert line at Breathless Press. It is a story of a woman's struggle with sexual shame. Press.http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=26&products_id=559
He can be reached at multiple locations:
Check out his website: http://www.fictionbyspencer.com/
He's on Google + : https://plus.google.com/+SpencerDryden
Tweet Him at: @SpencerDryden
He is a regular contributor to the multiauthor blog, Oh Get A Grip: http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com
And Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008150288001
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