Inspiration can come from anywhere, you just need to be open to it. I’ve had stories come from overheard snippets of conversation, the wording of submission calls, visits to sex toy sites (for research, I swear – my story, sticking to it), people I see on the street. Seriously, the characters and their stories can come from anywhere.
And I do love to people watch. Whether on the bus, in a store or restaurant, walking down the street. There’s inspiration around every corner and I keep my eyes and ears open for it. You never know when something is going to spark a character (or when that character is going to spark a series!)
For Bruised in particular, the inspiration came from this man I saw. Just a glimpse, that’s all that was needed. But I saw him and thought to myself, man that skin would bruise beautifully. And so Billy was born. Sometimes something like that needs to percolate, but this time around, Billy showed up in my brain pretty much immediately and it didn’t take long for Johnson to arrive in my head to claim Billy as his own.
As to where the inspiration for Johnson comes from, that I can’t remember. I imagine that once Billy showed, up, Johnson was percolated from a variety of sources that I wasn’t conscious of.
Here’s what Johnson thinks when he gets his first good look at Billy.
“Thank you, sir.” Billy headed in, which gave him a nice look at a tight little ass in tight little jeans. “I love going to trial, love the work, but the new guy bullshit, here call this guy, here file this deposition, here suck this ass thing? Gets old. Gets real old.”
“Funny, I never minded sucking ass.” Johnson winked and pointed out a table near the bar that was empty. It was busy enough that it boded well for the food even without Billy’s recommendation.
Billy started chuckling, cheeks pinking, sunglasses coming off. “Good to know. I don’t mind—if the ass in question isn’t an ancient, dried up skinny straight guy’s. Those? So ruin a good tongue.”
Johnson laughed, thinking that little splash of color looked good on Billy. “That definitely sounds nasty.”
The cowboy took off his hat, baring a head with hair cut so short it looked clear. The denim jacket was shrugged off, too, exposing a tight little body, pecs and abs clear and defined under the shirt. “No shit, Mr Bird. It is a scary situation.”
“I’ll bet. How long does the yucky ass sucking last before you’re not the new guy anymore?” Johnson figured Billy was definitely his type. Sitting, Billy spread his legs wide. Just look at that package… Most definitely his type. Johnson was glad he’d waited a moment to sit—he’d have hated to miss this view. He took one last look and sat across from Billy.
Those blue eyes shone at him, twinkling.
Smut fixes everything
Blurb for Bruised:
Johnson and Billy come from different parts of the country, different backgrounds and different places in their lives. Maybe different is exactly what they both need.
Johnson figures it’s got to be a sign when cowboy Billy shows up at his garage after hours, just as he’s about to go find someone to spend the night with. He’s horny enough that a lot of guys would look good, but Billy seems special somehow.
Billy thinks Johnson’s the hottest ticket he’s seen since he moved to California from Texas, and after a good meal and some good fun, he takes Johnson home. They both find out they’re getting more than they bargained for. Can Johnson and Billy figure out why they feel so connected and can they make it last once reality sets back in?
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.
Like the sound of Bruised? Buy it here: https://www.totallybound.com/bruised?utm_source=loveromancesandmore&utm_medium=blogtour&utm_campaign=bruisedblogtour
About 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, organising 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 pursuing the kama sutra by channelling 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.