Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, are you ready?
As writers and readers of romance,
Valentine’s Day is kind of our day, isn’t it?
Sure the retail marketers would have you
believe the day is all about buying chocolates and flowers and jewelry, etc,
for your loved one, but we know better, don’t we?
Valentine’s day is all about the love.
I’ll be celebrating by writing – two men,
one love, and the things that both hinder and help them and of course, a
happily ever after ending. Whether I’m doing a sweet contemporary, or a harder
core bdsm story, that remains consistent in my stories. My men love each other
and get their happy ending. Because for me, that’s what romance is all about,
just like Valentine’s Day – the love.
And then I’ll grab a beer, a romance to
read, and find myself a nice cozy spot to curl up in and read something yummy and loving and with that happy ending.
For me, a romance or two beats a bouquet of
roses or a box of chocolates any day and most especially on Valentine’s Day.
So I wish you love and many happy endings
this Valentine’s Day.
Thank you, Dawn, for having me here today J
Sean Michael
Often referred to as "Space
Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the
moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting,
organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring
on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While
collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles
away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the kama sutra by channeling the
long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago
A long-time writer of complicated haiku,
currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and
soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He'll stick with
writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they
spark.
Golden
Four years ago, after winning four Olympic
golds, two silvers and a bronze, Justin retired from swimming, and he's been
floundering ever since. For years swimming was everything and then suddenly he
was on his own, his Coach waving him off once he'd retired. Finding himself on
a balcony ledge on the fourth of July, contemplating doing something stupid,
Justin calls up Coach. To his surprise, Chris answers.
When Justin retired, Chris cut all ties
with the swimmer he'd fallen in love with, wanting to make sure that Justin
didn't stay with him as a lover just because it was ingrained to do whatever
his Coach told him to do. He's been waiting for a long time for Justin to come
back to him, so when Justin calls him, he immediately offers to share some midnight pancakes with his former swimmer.
When he finds out that Justin is lost,
drowning in a pool of self-doubt and the belief that his happy years are behind
him, Chris realizes maybe he made a mistake letting go all those years ago. He
brings Justin back to his place and gives in to the urges he'd ignored while he
was Justin's coach. Now he can love on Justin, give his boy the rules and
structure that Justin needs. As long as he can convince Justin that he really
does love the man.
Can Justin and Chris put the last four
years behind them and find themselves another golden moment?
Available February 20 from Torquere Press:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Justin sat on the edge of his balcony, feet
swinging, a half drunk bottle of bourbon in one hand, his gold medal in the
other. He could see the swimming pool, two stories down, and he wondered, not
for the first time if he would hit the water if he jumped.
There was a party going on behind him,
people dancing and laughing, celebrating the Fourth. There were fireworks going
off in the night sky, blue and red and green and white and...
God, it wasn't supposed to be this way. It
wasn't supposed to be empty and lonely and... He wasn't supposed to be
worthless. He wasn't supposed to be sitting on his balcony and thinking about
jumping. Was he?
"Jase? Honey? You okay?" Somebody
whose name he didn't know came out, smiled at him.
"No. No. I'm just watching." Go
away, leave me alone. Let me sit here.
He let the medal swing, the gold catching
the light from the tiny explosions. It took a minute, but the little girl
disappeared back into the apartment. He was so tired of lying. So tired of
fucking everything.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket,
opened it and dialed one on speed dial. Please, Coach. Just answer the phone. I
know you don't have to, but please...
"Chris Jarvis."
His eyes closed at the familiar voice and
suddenly he couldn't speak.
"Hello?" He could picture Coach
frowning as he said it, moving to check the call display, which Coach never did
when he first answered. "Just, that you?"
"Yeah. Yeah. I. Hey, Coach." I
miss you.
"Hey, Justin." Was it his
imagination, or did Coach's voice get warmer? "How's it going?"
"It's..." He looked out at the
pool again. He could probably make it. "It's going. Happy July."
Chris chuckled. "Happy July, kid.
Feels odd, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it does." Everything
did. Everything. "I didn't mean to bother you."
"If it was a bother, I wouldn't have
answered the phone."
"Yeah." Chris hadn't answered the
phone for the better part of a year, really, telling him it was time to move
on. He'd retired, with four gold medals, two silvers and a bronze and, after
two Olympic games, hundreds of competitions, thousands of races, and five
shoulder surgeries, he was done.
No more sponsors. No more early morning
practices. No more someone worrying about him. It was just this apartment and a
job designing web sites for a shoe company.
"You watching the fireworks?" At
least Chris wasn't in a hurry to get him off the phone.
"I'm on my balcony. You?"
"On the TV over the capital." He
could almost hear Coach's self-deprecating smile. "I was thinking of
heading out for a midnight snack."
"You always loved midnight pancakes." They'd eaten more syrup at one a.m. ..
"Like you hated our midnight snack attacks. The Denny's on Maple is open all night."
"I'm... I've been drinking, Coach. I
can't drive down." Wait. Had Chris invited him?
"I'll swing by and get you. Those
pancakes are calling my name."
"I... I'll be downstairs."
"See you in ten." Coach cut the
line.
He slipped off the balcony ledge, heading
through crowd in his apartment without a word. His roommates would deal. It
wasn't until he was all the way downstairs and waiting before he thought to
wonder how Coach knew where he lived.
Shibari Auction House: Leaf
When River calls his twin Leaf and says
"Brother, I'm in trouble," Leaf does the same thing he always does --
he comes to River's rescue. Leaf's twin is thrilled he showed up, and quickly
takes his clothes, tells him he's going to have a great time and leaves Leaf to
be auctioned off at the Shibari Auction House in his place.
Not quite sure what River has gotten him
into this time, Leaf is stunned to find himself auctioned off for seventy-five
thousand dollars. Not sure exactly what's expected of him, he tells the man who
won him the truth and finds himself treated more than fairly by James, the man
who bought a week of his time.
Has River left Leaf holding the bag? Or has
River inadvertently granted Leaf fantasies he didn't even know he had?
Available from Changeling:
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1989
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